My Iron Dad Secret Santa piece for @tonystarkbrokemyheart!! They asked for domestic Tony and Peter and I was very happy to provide :) They mentioned how their siblings will make sure to take off toppings and such that they don’t like, and so I drew Peter giving Tony all the mushrooms off his pizza~
The New York skyline photo is from Unsplash user fezbot2000. I was originally going to paint it out but I decided I actually really liked how it looked as-is!
Thank you @irondadsecretsanta for organizing this whole ordeal! You are the real MVP!!
Happy almost-holiday season! We are happy to announce the launch of the Iron Dad Secret Santa 2019!
This post will contain information on this event, including dates and how to sign up. Be sure to REBLOG this post and invite your friends to join! The more in this event, the merrier.
What is this?
This event is a Secret Santa event, also known as an anonymous gift exchange! If you sign up, you will create a gift for someone in the Iron Dad fandom, and receive one in return! These events are a wonderful way to spread holiday joy.
How to Participate?
Sign up using this form. This is a Google form, and it will ask you to provide information regarding the gift you are willing to create/give, as well as the gift you would like to receive.
Sign ups close on November 8, 2019 (11:59PM EST).
You will receive a message between November 9th and November 16th with the name of who you will be creating a gift for. (If you do not receive a message from me by 11:59PM EST on November 16th and you signed up, message me!)
Create your gift based on what your giftee asked for!
All gifts are due on December 22, 2019 before 11:59PM EST! Send a screenshot of it to be via messaging by this date. (This is to ensure everyone will be able to receive a gift & that someone didn’t disappear!) If you do not send me a message before 11:59PM EST on December 22nd, you will be removed from this event.
Post your gift on December 26, 2019 between 00:01AM EST and 11:59PM EST. You must post on Tumblr (if you are gifting a fanfiction, your Tumblr post should include a link to your fic AO3). Please also use the tag #irondadsecretsanta, tag us @irondadsecretsanta, and tag your giftee!
Please post to our collection on AO3 if you are writing fanfiction.
Who can participate?
Anyone who appreciates Tony Stark’s bond with the IronKids (including Peter Parker, Harley Keener, and Morgan Stark). [Note: your gift can include any of the IronKids, it does not have to include all three.]
Absolutely no shipping of Tony with Peter, Harley, or Morgan! This event is for the platonic / familial relationship ONLY.
Rules
Sign up before November 8, 2019.
Turn on your anonymous asks (they should be kept on between November 8 and December 26!).
If you contact your giftee, you must do it anonymously! Half of the fun is not knowing who your secret Santa is!
Create a previously unposted piece of fan content (including fanfiction, fan art, fan video, gif set, graphic, etc).
Fanfiction must be more than 1000 words long (there is no maximum).
Your content must have Tony and one (or more) of the IronKids (Harley, Peter, Morgan) as the focus.
Send in your fan content by December 22, 2019 at 11:59PM EST.
Post your gift on Tumblr on December 26, 2019 between 00:01AM EST and 11:59PM EST.
Absolutely no shipping of Tony with Peter, Harley, or Morgan! This event is for the platonic / familial relationship ONLY.
If you can no longer participate, but have already signed up, message this blog as soon as you can!! Please only sign up if you are able to participate. We understand that life happens, and things change unexpectedly, and that’s okay. We just need to know as soon as possible so we can find someone else to create a gift for your giftee.
If you have any questions, ask!
All this information can be found here as well, in case something isn’t loading right for you!
EDIT (11/11/2019): Pinch-hitter sign ups are now OPEN! See this post for more details.
Summary: 3 times Peter made Tony watch Star Wars and the 1 time it was Tony's idea.Or: Peter Parker is unapologetically a geek and Tony quickly realizes that there's nothing he wouldn't do for him.
A/N: this is part of the @irondadsecretsanta and is my gift for @aslanscompass. It was a ton of fun & I wish you all a wonderful Christmas <3
Check out all the other AMAZING fics HERE !
FF.net I ao3
--
i.
Tony was wary when he answered the call at 10 past eleven at night.
He had learned early on that late night calls from teenage vigilantes were never a good sign and that, really, a call at any time from a teenager was a rarity and should always raise a red flag. So, yeah, he was wary but he felt like he was entitled to.
Next to him his fiancée was curled around the dark green plush blanket like a cat and regarded him, staring at the lit up screen of his phone, in amusement. “Don’t yell too much.”
He rolled his eyes and accepted the call, “No promises.”
“Mr. Stark?” came the breathless voice of none other than Peter Parker through the speakers and already he could feel his blood pressure rise and tried to breathe out deliberately slowly.
Calm, Stark, you’re calm.
“The one and only,” he answered and was almost proud of how calm and collected he sounded. Oh how deceiving voices could be.
“Oh!” The kid sounded actually surprised and paused for a second in which Tony could only hear the telling thwip thwip thwip of hectic webbing.
Not the best sign but he was calm. So very calm.
He was also already on the way to the nearest window, two steps from calling a suit. Pepper behind him was now openly laughing but he didn’t look back because –
“Great! I might need a little help here. Something.” Thwip. “Something came up.” Thwip. “Sorta.”
“Sorta?” Calm.
“I mean.” Thwip. “It definitely came up. Yup.” Thwip. “Definitely. How far are you from Queens?” Thwip.
“Three minutes,” he sighed, giving up on the act of sounding completely aloof, half waving to Pepper before turning around, stepping into his suit and jumping out of the window. There went the nice, cozy night he had planned.
“Kid? You still there?”
There was a long moment of no rambling and no thwiping and it was unsettling. If Tony knew that getting late night calls was a bad sign, he was sure as heck that random pauses in late night calls where close to the calling of the apocalypse.
If anyone was going to test his body’s ability to handle stress it wasn’t his own superhero gig or some spandex wearing traitor, it was a goody-two-shoes kid dressed up as a spider.
“Okay, great. You keep doing that and tell me what’s going on.”
Just keep talking, kid, tell me you’re alive.
Peter started talking and while he sounded a little too excited for his taste he let the familiar sound calm him down. As long as Peter was talking, Tony could convince himself that he didn’t have to panic just yet.
He could already see Spider-Man flipping towards another building when a message from Pepper blinked up on his HUD.
Get home safe. Both of you. I’m heading to bed. Love you.
..
“That was wild, Mr. Stark! Like, super wild. Super mega wild. Super-duper mega –“
“Wild?” Tony suggested in mock seriousness, setting down on the landing pad and watched Spider-Man land gracefully behind him. The second the kid had solid ground under his feet he ripped off his mask and took in a big gulp of air. His hair was mussed, cheeks red and his usually light brown eyes dark, pupils dilated so much not much of the iris was left to be seen.
Typical signs of an active sympathetic nervous system, his mind supplied unsolicited.
“Steady,” he ordered roughly when a bony shoulder bumped into his arm but there was no real force behind it when he reached out to wrap an arm around him to do the steadying himself. As soon as he had him under control he led them to the kitchen to get one of the nutrition bars he had started keeping in stock for Peter’s mutant metabolism.
“S’rry.” The kid grinned up at him sheepishly, rubbing at the mess of curls on his forehead in a poor attempt to tame them. “What’re we gonna do now?”
He raised an eyebrow in silent amusement. “It’s midnight, buddy. You should probably get to bed sometime soon if you wanna make first period.”
“But –“ Peter looked disoriented for a moment, eyes flying back and forth between the clock and Tony felt for him when his searching gaze fell on him. He looked so hopeful, as if he was lost and Tony his compass and he was so certain that he would lead him back home. The genuine trust in his eyes pierced through him and immediately he felt lacking. Thank goodness that deflection was his second nature.
Shoving two granola bars into Peter’s hand, he took a step back to give himself some space to reorient.
“You’re too excited to sleep?”
There was a vigorous nod that had crumbs falling everywhere.
“Figures,” he sighed, “The aftereffects of adrenaline are never fun.” He watched the teenager devour the second bar in mere seconds, mind whirling with doubt. “Do you want me to stay with you until you are tired enough to go to bed?”
Wide eyes found his and, mouth still full, Peter gave a timid nod, uncertain question marks clear in the twinkle of his eyes and the way he cocked his head to the side slightly.
“Okay, let’s make some tea and put on a movie. What do you wanna watch? Frozen?” He turned around to start rummaging through the kitchen for herbal tea.
That must’ve been enough for Peter to finally swallow his food and get his bearings. “How do you even know about Frozen, Mr. Stark? Are you a fan?” he quipped.
He half-turned, kettle in hand, grinning when Peter plopped down on the couch and immediately tucked himself into the blanket Pepper had neatly folded and stashed on the arm rest before she had gone to sleep. “Have you been outside last year? Show me someone who doesn’t know about Frozen.”
“Fair point,” Peter agreed easily, mind obviously already a step further. “What’s your favorite Star Wars?”
“Uh,” Tony put the kettle on the stove, “I have seen about as many Star Wars movies as I’ve seen Frozen movies.”
“You –“ The way Peter turned must put a painful strain on his neck but he looked too scandalized to notice. “What?”
The kettle whistled and he put in two bags of Pepper’s herbal tea before replying, “I have never watched Star Wars.”
“Oh my –“ For the second time that evening Peter looked utterly confused which, for a kid that smart, was especially amusing. “What rock have you been living under? I thought everyone knew Star Wars. Especially old people.”
“Hey!” He admonished but had to admit that it lost much of its brunt when he put down two steaming glasses of tea and started tugging at the blanket to cover Peter’s foot fully. “Be nice to me.”
“I’m being super nice, Mr. Stark. ‘Cause I’m gonna introduce you to a galaxy far, far away. The best galaxy.”
Tony watched in amusement as Peter ordered F.R.I.D.A.Y. to put on Episode IV and then looked eagerly back at him. “You’re gonna love it.”
“This is supposed to make you tired, squirt,” he reminded him, tapping his knee gently.
“It will,” he promised, “Star Wars always calms me down.”
The way he said it made Tony pause, made his heart ache with the harsh reality this kid had had to face and how bright he still was despite of it. Instead of an answer he pushed the glass of tea into his hands and made sure he was all tucked in before starting the movie.
Surprisingly enough Peter wasn’t lying. Halfway through the movie his breathing had evened out so much that Tony thought he was already asleep, cheek mushed into one of the big pillows, curled in on himself.
When the movie was over he stirred, slurring “G’nna watch the rest t’morrow?”
“Maybe let’s split it up a little, whataya say?” He reached out to brush some of his curls from his forehead, surprised by the gentleness of the gesture. “But we can watch them together if you want to.”
“Promise?”
“Pinky promise, kiddo.”
--
ii.
With Peter it wasn’t exactly hard to notice when something was off.
Even Tony, who admittedly was often too caught up in his own world to be fine-tuned into other people’s feelings and was much more comfortable fixing a cranky robot than moody human, could see it from a mile away. Or maybe that was a new kind of sense that began and ended with Peter Parker’s wellbeing. Oh well, he tried not to dwell on that.
The thing about Peter was that, when he was fine, his entire being radiated contentment, his voice tripped with excitement and his eyes shone with laughter. On a good day he was the picture perfect golden retriever puppy and similarly receptive to hugs and hair ruffles.
Today, though, his usual exuberance had visibly deflated and when he came to the workshop he punched in his code and then continued to scuff towards his workstation with only a passing hello. That was not the Peter Tony knew and, frankly, it was worrying to see someone normally so eager and lively so … lacking of life for lack of a better word.
The thing about Tony was that he was, by his own standing, probably the least equipped to deal with someone having a bad day. Heck, his own bad days usually ended in working through every meal, chugging coffee by the gallon and seeing no sun light for hours on end and even he knew that wasn’t healthy.
So he kept quiet at first and let Peter work in hopes of it calming him down because what did he know about healthily dealing with teenage angst on a Wednesday?
He kept a close eye on him, though, because for how much Tony didn’t think he was equipped to handle Peter’s bad days he also wanted to chase the shadows from his face and the hardness from his stance however cliché that sounded.
He wanted to help, he did. He just didn’t know how. So he watched from afar and contemplated.
When Peter dropped the screw driver a third time and was getting more and more agitated with the web shooter he was working on, Tony decided to stage an intervention ‘cause what the heck. He hated seeing the kid so down.
Rolling his chair over to the teenager’s work bench he picked up the tool before Peter could. “You wanna tell me what’s up, squirt?”
Peter glared, which was about as intimidating as a golden retriever puppy glaring, “Nothing,” and reached for the screw driver. Which Tony pulled out of reach at the last moment. Which made him look even more like a puppy. It was all in the big brown eyes, he decided then.
“You’re a terrible liar.”
“I have a secret identity.”
“Which I found out about in like a day.” He leaned back with a grin and started throwing the screwdriver in the air and effortlessly catching it.
“You’re Tony Stark,” the kid gave back with an eye roll, catching the tool before Tony had the chance to. “But I’m fine, honestly.”
“I mean,” he crossed his arms and watched him turn back to his web shooter rather listlessly, “considering that you not being fine usually means you’re bleeding out in an alleyway I’m not entirely reassured.”
“I’ve never bled out in an alleyway.”
“Yeah, because I flew in to get you before you could.”
“Why do you even care?” Peter snapped at him, a flicker of teenage annoyance dancing in his eyes before vanishing in the time it took Tony to ponder the fact that even this seemingly perfect kid could be annoyed. Finally. “Sorry,” he sighed, proving yet again how much better he was than literally anyone else, “I’m just annoyed.”
If that wasn’t a break-through, than he didn’t know what was. Silently patting himself on the back, Tony reached out to turn Peter’s chair so he was facing him and gently took the screw driver from his hands, putting him down on the work bench before giving the kid his full intention.
“What are you annoyed about?”
He shrugged indifferently, not meeting his eyes, “I don’t know. I just... Ned and I got into an argument and he was being so… so stubborn about it. Like, it wasn’t even that bad but he just wouldn’t budge.”
“Oh no, a stubborn teenager. Someone call the zoo we’ve found an endangered species,” he deadpanned.
Peter glared again but Tony could also see him bite down on his lower lip to keep it from curling upwards.
“Sorry, sorry. What did you and Ned fight about?”
“It wasn’t a fight… not really,” he corrected, “And it was dumb. Like, really ridiculous to be so annoyed about it. It’s not… it’s just stupid.”
Cocking his head to the side ever so slightly he raised an eyebrow and repeated calmly, “What did you argue about? I mean, if you don’t wanna talk about it that’s fine but if it’s got you so up in arms about it maybe you should is all I’m saying.”
“You’re gonna think it’s stupid,” Peter pouted.
“Maybe,” Tony shrugged, “But it’s still okay to be angry about something stupid sometimes. You don’t wanna know about half the things Rhodey and I fought about back in the days. Still do, actually.”
“Now I kinda do,” Peter grinned, then paused. “We argued about the Jedi code.”
“You… argued about the Jedi code,” Tony repeated dumbly, “Like… The Star Wars guys running around in wardrobes? They have a code?”
Big brown eyes flew up to meet his, full of indignation “Of course they have a code! There’s actually a couple different versions of it which is what we were arguing about because he said –,“ Peter stopped speaking midsentence, mouth slamming shut audibly. “It doesn’t matter… You don’t… you don’t have to listen to this, honestly, Mr. Stark.”
He made sure to school his expression and started speaking deliberately slowly, “Peter. I know I don’t have to listen to this. And, as you’ve pointed out before I am Tony Stark and you know I rarely do anything I don’t want to but, kid, you gotta know at this point that I like having you around and I like talking to you. That doesn’t just hold true when you’re your usual bubbly self but also, and especially when you’re not. This is clearly important to you. And if it’s important to you, I’m interested.”
He waited until Peter gave him a nod of understanding, timid as it may be, and leaned back in his chair again, “So tell me about this discourse in the Star Wars fandom.”
The kid didn’t have to be told twice and Tony felt his soul settle when he watched him perk up and dive into what must’ve obviously been weighing him down.
“Okay, so the Jedi code most commonly used goes like: There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge etcetera which, you know, it’s mostly meant to be used as a mantra for meditation to, like, get to a place where you don’t let your emotions overtake you and stuff. And I get that, I do.”
When Tony gave an earnest nod to show he was listening, Peter continued. “But it wasn’t always like that. It used to be: Emotion, yet peace. Ignorance, yet knowledge, and so on. And I like that one better because it acknowledges the fact that Jedi do have emotions like everyone else, too, right? I think that’s important! And this whole black-and-white view of ‘There’s no emotion whatsoever’ makes me so mad!”
He was gesticulating wildly, cheeks reddening with fervor as he spoke.
“Putting aside how hypocritical the whole thing sounds, you can’t make people think that having emotions will put them on a direct path to the Dark side when so much of the goodness of the Good side comes from how much they care. It’s all about controlling those emotions enough to not make bad decisions based on them but – Why can’t there be peace with emotion? By giving their Padawans the feeling that they’re in the wrong for being… well, for being people they just make it so much easier for them to fall to the Dark side!”
“It just – it makes me mad how black-and-white they want to make the world seem. And by doing that they start lying to themselves and to their students and what good does a code do when it’s impossible to hold yourself to it? You can’t just go around telling people there’s no Death but the Force when that is, objectively, a lie. Whereas Death, yet the Force acknowledges that people die but gives you the closure of knowing where you’ll find them again and the belief that they’re still with you, somehow. I think … I think that’s beautiful.” Once he was done he slumped together on his chair.
“Feeling better now?” Tony asked, reaching out to pat the top of his head.
“Yeah, a little,” he sighed, “I’m annoyed that we even argued about it but I also don’t like how he wouldn’t even listen to my point of view, ya know?”
“Well, did you listen to his side?”
“I mean,” Peter blinked up at him sheepishly, “Kinda?” The corners of his lips tugged upwards and he gave a shrug, “Maybe not as much as I should have,” he admitted with a sigh. They fell silent for a moment, Tony giving Peter the time to work through the wall his mind had built up.
“Guess I’m gonna text him an apology for not listening and that it’s okay that we have different opinions.”
“Atta boy!” Tony grinned at him and while he knew none of Peter’s maturity was his doing, his heart still swelled with pride of how good Peter was.
“Can we watch Star Wars now?”
“You got your homework done?”
Peter rolled his eyes. “Yes.”
“Hungry?”
He laughed, exasperated, “Nothing some popcorn couldn’t fix.”
Tony smiled, then sobered and gave him a once over. “You okay?”
Peter nodded, a lone strand of curl bobbing back and forth, smile soft and true. “Yeah.”
Well, that settled it. He clapped his hands once and got up from his chair in a swift motion. “Then let’s watch... What comes after Episode six?”
“Episode one!” Peter jumped up, grabbing his wrist like a child pulling their parent towards a candy store, “You’ll finally meet Anakin. And honestly that’s exactly my point! Maybe if they hadn’t told him that all emotion is bad –“
He let himself be dragged upstairs and listened to him rambling over the Jedi code and he realized, in that instant, that he was truly, irrevocably happy.
--
iii.
“I cannot believe I let you put me into this,” he complained, his voice breathy and rough.
Peter pulled on his white robe and fastened his light saber in its holder for the umpteenth time. “To be fair, you were the one who wanted a mask. I wanted you to go as Obi Wan.”
“He is blond, Peter,” he shot back like he had the last hundred times they’d had this conversation. He looked around through the dark lenses of his mask, the HUD he had installed blinking up to scour the crowd for possible threads, and sighed, “I miss the days where I was oblivious to Star Wars and didn’t have an annoying teenager dragging me to these things.”
“No, you don’t.”
He was glad the mask hid his smile at the easy banter. It was bad enough Peter knew exactly how wrapped around his little finger he was, he didn’t have to show it time and time again.
“Okay, I don’t. But you still owe me one.”
“But Mr. Sta-a-ark,” he said, dragging his last name for at least two more syllables than it had and looking as pitiful as if he’d actually just lost his hand, “I’m already being punished enough. We’re going to MOMA next semester.”
Despite himself, Tony could feel the fondness shine through as he chuckled, “Excuse me, are you actually voicing dislike in something? Are you actually my Peter Parker or have you officially become a rebel now?”
The kid giggled, honest to god giggled, and shrugged, “Guess there’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, Mr. Stark. I do dislike things!”
“Really? Name three.” He raised an unimpressed eyebrow, leveling Peter with a glare before realizing that the gesture was completely lost in his costume. Not even the tone translated. He really needed to figure something out for that next time. He couldn’t have his natural charm get lost in the Dark side.
The thought made him stop dead in his tracks – thankfully still unseen by the Jedi next to him. Next time? He hated this costume with a passion why would he consider wearing it again?
Unbeknownst to the inner whirlwind that were his thoughts, Peter actually answered his question after floundering for a bit.
“Well, I don’t like bad people. And hurricanes. And MOMA. Even though, MOMA really never did anything to me, I’d just rather go somewhere else y’know. I mean, it’ll probably be kinda nice anyway? So yeah, maybe I don’t not like MOMA. But – I still don’t like, uh, racists?”
Ah, yeah, that was why he was actually thinking about a next time in this ridiculous outfit. Because of Peter freaking Parker.
“Those are all very good things to dislike, Mr. Parker, but I was actually hoping that all people with a little decency and common sense disliked those things,” he teased. “Just admit that you do not have a single mean bone in your body and that it’s physically impossible for you to dislike anything.”
“That’s not –“
“I love your cosplay, man!” some guy in a badly made Yoda costume whose ears were precariously close to falling off the side of his head and were only held in place by a few strands of grey fuzz interrupted him and the disturbance would have annoyed Tony had Peter’s face not started positively lighting up at the compliment.
“Thank you!” he replied easily with a face splitting grin, “I love yours, too. What’d you use to make the ears?”
“Just papier-mâché”, Yoda replied, obviously taken aback by the interest in his own costume by someone with an obviously home-made light saber. He seemed excited, though, and started rambling about something until he let his eyes wander to the side and took in Tony’s appearance for the first time.
“Oh my god,” he gasped, yes, gasped, and gaped at him like a fish pulled out of water, “That is the best father and son costume ever! Can I take a picture of the two of you?”
And before Tony could so much as utter a word, Peter had already nodded his consent and leaned against him with a huge grin on his face and the other kid was fumbling for his phone and started snapping pictures of them. And then a selfie, because of course.
“Is this real life?” he breathed out almost silently.
“It might just be fantasy,” his sassy AI replied instantly, earning him another gasp and round of big, wide eyes from Yoda.
“Did your mask just reply to you? And did the eyes light up? How did you do that?”
“It’s just a, uh,” very high-tech AI system that was talking back to him, “it’s like Google glasses.” He cringed internally and could feel more than see Peter snicker against his side.
“Oh, like the ones Tony Stark always wears?”
By now Peter was having to work so hard on holding back his laughter that he had gone almost rigid, grinning from ear to ear and happily answering for him. “Yes, yes, Tony Stark is totally wearing Google glasses.”
“Ah, well, I think yours are cooler anyway. I mean you’d never find Tony Stark at the Star Wars midnight premiere.”
Oh, don’t I wish, he thought, ruefully imagining how comfortable he could be on his own couch right now.
Peter, though, Peter was loving this which made him reconsider his earlier statement about the mean bones in his body.
“Yeah, you’re way cooler than Tony Stark. Right, dad?”
Oh for goodness sake. That sassy dad should not do the things to his heart that it was currently doing. That could not be healthy.
“Sure,” he cleared his throat to get rid of the pesky emotions in there, “I mean, Tony Stark is a pretty cool guy but, uh, yeah, so much cooler.”
And, as if someone had heard his prayers, the doors to the movie theater were opened and a reverent murmur went through the crowd before people – droids and aliens, Jedi and Sith alike – started wandering in and taking their places and finally, finally the thing they were actually here to see could begin.
Tony would complain about that day to anyone who would listen (and to some, like Pepper, who wouldn’t) but when Peter sent him one of the pictures the Yoda guy had taken, he framed it and put it up next to the picture of him and Rhodey proudly presenting Dum-E in his lab.
Until, of course, when he broke it in a moment of uncontrollable grief because looking at all he used to have just hurt too dang much.
--
iv.
“You coming, kiddo?”
The voice came out of nowhere, startling him so much he almost toppled over the front porch’s wooden railing he was leaning against.
“Wha-“ he whirled around and his heart simultaneously sang and sank, “Oh, it’s just you.”
“Yeah, just me. Sorry to disappoint.” The quip fell from his lips easily but his mentor’s dark eyes shone with concern. Somehow that made the lump in his stomach grow even heavier.
“That’s not – I mean, uh, I’m not –“ he stumbled over his words, cringing at how high-pitched his voice sounded even to his own ears, “Sorry. I’m –“
He stopped midsentence when he realized that he wasn’t sure what he wanted to say and just shrugged, coupled with a small smile that was definitely fake and evidently did not convince Mr. Stark of anything.
He was still coming closer, slowly and careful of the shiny prosthetic that sat where his arm used to be.
The image made Peter sick and he tried to focus on his face instead. There were a few more wrinkles than he remembered, especially around his eyes and mouth – from laughing no doubt. He was sporting more grey hair, too, and he looked comfortable in his dark blue cardigan where he used to wear suits or band shirts. He looked exactly like someone who lived happily in a lake house.
“You okay, squirt?”
He snapped out of his spiraling thoughts and, on reflex, started nodding.
“See,” he stopped when he was next to him and leaned against the railing, too, facing Peter who turned to face the small boat that was moving ever so slightly with the lake’s small ripples. “I don’t believe you.”
Huh.
“You’re not okay.” It was a statement, leaving no room for him to argue.
“But –“ He was cut off and a part of him was glad for it because what was he going to say anyway? He was a bad liar and Mr. Stark good at reading him. That, at least, was something that hadn’t changed.
“None of us are really okay and that’s okay,” Mr. Stark said and turned to watch the lake now, too. “Or so I’ve been told repeatedly. But, as I’ve also been reliably informed, we have to talk to each other to get better.”
He shrugged and crossed his arms in front of his chest, tugging both hands under his arm-pits to keep them from shaking.
“No talking, I take it?”
He shrugged again.
“Would you let me hug you?”
His head snapped up instantly. The question came as a surprise but sounded honest and hesitant and attentive and it made his head spin. But, when he took a moment to think about it, he ended up nodding. He didn’t think there was a whole lot he would refuse the man for a while.
Almost immediately he was being wrapped into a strong healthy arm and pulled close until Mr. Stark could bury his face in his hair and take in a deep breath. He couldn’t help but notice how heavily his mentor was leaning against the railing while holding him but he also noticed how his entire body seemed to loosen as the hug went on, how tension and worry slowly sept out of his stance.
Peter noticed the same for himself, too, and somehow that made him want to cry.
The arm around him was steady and it held him together when everything had seemed to fall apart and his head was spinning and he felt his eyes tear up and his heart beat speed up and he suddenly wished that he could stay here forever.
Which was ridiculous. Mr. Stark just wanted to give him a quick hug and go on with his day. He couldn’t know how liberating his touch felt, how cared for and valued and loved Peter felt just by being in his arms and he couldn’t just tell him. He couldn’t –
But it felt so nice.
“Hey, hey, bud,” Mr. Stark sounded worried and it felt like he wanted to pull away and Peter’s breaths started coming in quicker at the thought. There was a sound somewhere in the back of his throat and Mr. Stark stopped pulling away but still loosened his grip.
“It’s okay, kiddo,” he shushed him and Peter had to swallow down a sob because this was getting ridiculous but it felt so nice, “It’s gonna be okay, I promise. It’s gonna be okay.”
After a moment he had caught himself enough to not start breaking down and gave a nod. “I’m –“ he sniffed and whispered, “Thank … Thank you, Mr. Stark.”
For a moment it seemed like his mentor wasn’t going to say anything but then he gave a small smile and pulled him into his side instead. “Anytime, kiddo. Now let’s watch Rogue One. The Force is telling me it’s time for a high stakes-tragedy-comfort movie.”
Despite himself, Peter let out a wet giggle. “There’s never a wrong time for Star Wars, Mr. Stark.”
“I know, I know. It’s tradition. Or so you keep telling me,” he said and the fondness in his voice almost made Peter cry again.
He didn’t, though.
They went back into the empty lake house – May, Pepper and Morgan were having a girls day apparently – made themselves comfortable on the big couch and put on the movie as if they had never done anything else. They moved like a well-oiled machine, like a team that had been working together forever.
Peter was curled into Mr. Stark’s side and his thumb was constantly caressing his knee and it felt wonderful. It felt like home.
The lump in his throat never left.
Somehow it kept growing with every passing minute and with it the loneliness and while he felt right at home it also felt like he shouldn’t. His body felt out of place, as if all the pieces of him had never truly reintegrated, leaving him with holes in his being that he wasn’t sure how to fill.
He watched Chirrut Îmwe blindly walk across battlefields and single-handedly eliminate an entire garrison, trusting the Force to keep him safe and the blazing desire for that kind of certainty hit him unaware.
Maybe that was the whole problem, he realized slowly, as he watched Galen’s message to his daughter and that was when the first tear fell, silent and painful.
Ever since he had come back barely anything had seemed certain anymore. There had been things he had believed to be unchangeable but then a mad Titan had snapped his fingers and his beliefs had turned into dust alongside his body and half the universe and then he had come back and everything had been different and even things that appeared to be the same just weren’t.
May had been gone, too. They still loved each other the same way they always had. Unconditionally. Unquestioningly. Easy. She never had to miss him, never faced a world without him in it. She was the only constant he could claim but everything else –
He couldn’t understand how it had been five years and Mr. Stark had a wife and a kid and a lake house and how he could have still missed him with all that. How he could’ve even had the time. Why would he miss Peter of all people? And, and…
Mr. Stark’s affection was different now. Fiercer, gentler, more… more parental. Or maybe it wasn’t different but he was more open with it. He looked at him the way he looked at Morgan and he couldn’t make sense of that. He couldn’t.
Why would anyone miss me?
He kept circling back to the same question.
Whywhywhywhy- Why me?
He didn’t notice he started full on crying until suddenly the screen in front of him was blurry and his cheeks were wet and his breaths came in rough. He tried to breathe through it, to keep his body calm and steady so Mr. Stark wouldn’t notice but it made his lungs feel like they were on fire trying to keep it all in.
As if he had read his thoughts Mr. Stark’s hand moved up from where it had been resting on his knee and started rubbing slow circles into his scalp. He didn’t move otherwise, made no attempt to pull away and when he spoke his voice was barely more than a whisper.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Did he? He knew if he started talking, he’d start spiraling and he’d lose the last ounce of self-control he was clinging to. He didn’t want that.
He shook his head, but his body started shaking more violently anyway when he couldn’t breathe through the sobs anymore.
“Shh, that’s okay, buddy, that’s fine,” Mr. Stark murmured, “But stop trying to bite down on your tears. I know how much that hurts. It’s okay. Let it out. I’m here.”
He kept talking – quietly, soothingly, calmly – and at some point Peter’s body decided to listen and he stopped trying to keep quiet and when the first sob broke through his lips he buried his head in Mr. Stark’s stomach and let himself cry.
It hurt and more often than not Mr. Stark had to remind him to slow down his breathing so the oxygen could reach his brain and it didn’t seem to ever stop. But it was also freeing.
Every sob that tore through him gave voice to a pain he had buried inside like needles in his soul that he was pulling out one after the other. For the first time since he had come back he felt like he could breathe again.
His lungs were finally uncurling fully, the weight that had been sitting on his ribcage was gone. He could breathe and at first he gulped in the air like someone pulled from certain death through drowning. He felt like he had been suffocating for weeks and this was the first time someone had pulled his head above water again.
“Slowly, squirt, slowly. Breathe nice and slowly, the air’s not going anywhere, I promise.”
And if Mr. Stark promised to keep his head above water it must be right. After all, Mr. Stark always kept his promises.
They didn’t exchange anything other than those small reassurances and soothings until the end of the movie. And Peter shed a few tears when the inevitable happened but he was tired and cried out and so emotionally drained he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to feel again.
Still, when Princess Leia appeared on the screen he felt the same flutter of hope in his chest that he always felt when he watched it and his soul settled.
“Hope,” she said on screen and the single syllable word echoed through his body, spreading like a bonfire and melting places that had been numb for days.
Everything was going to be okay.
When the credits started rolling, that’s when Mr. Stark started talking again starting with a cough to clear his throat that sounded like he had been crying, too.
“I know you may not want to talk about it, Pete, but I feel like we should.” He sighed and he sounded sad and strong at the same time. More importantly, though, he never stopped running his fingers through his hair. “You may not have heard but I’m a responsible adult now. Someone who makes kids talk about their problems.”
Peter snorted and Mr. Stark gave a chuckle.
“Granted, Morgan’s tears are usually about whether or not we’re letting her have that second juice pop but we do talk about that.”
“You give her the juice pop, don’t you?” His voice was scratchy but Mr. Stark didn’t comment on that. He laughed quietly.
“It depends, honestly. On whether or not Pepper is around when the tantrum starts.”
“You’re a great dad to her,” he whispered in reply and if he had thought he had calmed down just half a minute earlier then his heart felt like splitting open again now. He couldn’t put the finger on it, didn’t want to admit to himself that it was jealousy of the time they had that he would never get. He hated himself for thinking about it. If anyone deserved a family it was Mr. Stark and Morgan was the sweetest child. It was just –
Morgan belonged with her family, she was a Stark through and through – stubbornness and smarts and all. And Mr. Stark belonged with Pepper and his daughter, too. He knew that. He wanted that for them.
He just – he had thought that he had kind of belonged with Mr. Stark, too, but how could he now that he had been gone for five years? How could he ever belong anywhere ever again?
“As they say; practice makes perfect,” Mr. Stark spoke, completely oblivious to Peter’s thoughts, “Guess it gets easier the second time around.”
For a moment he forgot to spiral into self-doubt and angst and stopped. A Second… Second time? Huh?
As if he sensed the wordless question, his mentor pulled him closer and buried his face in his hair again. It seemed to soothe him as much as it calmed Peter. He seemed comfortable this close. Happy, at home.
“See, squirt, I know that I didn’t raise you. I would never take that honor and privilege from May and your Uncle Ben and your parents. They made you in the person you were when I met you and that person was already better than anything I could have ever hoped to achieve. But then,” he paused as if unsure how to continue, “We did meet and I did get the honor of being in your life, of mentoring you, of caring for you. I made a lot of mistakes at first and – My biggest mistake was trying to keep you at arm’s length.”
“I don’t – I don’t understand,” Peter whispered, pushing himself up far enough to meet his mentor’s eyes that were glistening with unshed tears. His gaze softened even more when he saw his own tear stained cheeks and red rimmed eyes and there was a shadow of anguish and a spark of love in them.
“I know,” he sighed, never breaking eye contact but shifting them into a more comfortable position, “You can’t understand because I never told you. Not really. But, Peter, you have to know, that you’re my kid. You are as much my kid as Morgan is. You made me want to be a dad, made me want to prove that I could because I wanted to be one to you and I didn’t want to fail you. And –“ he stopped and a shudder went through his body, “And then I did. I failed you and I – I never forgave myself for that. And I never stopped missing you. God, I missed you so much, Pete.”
But … “Why would you… Why me?”
“Because, Peter. Because you’re my boy and I love you and the world was so much darker without you in it and because every awful moment would’ve been less awful with you and every good moment would’ve been perfect. I – I kept going, I went on because I had to. Because there were Pepper and Rhodey and then Morgan. I had to keep going but that doesn’t mean I didn’t miss you every single second of every single day.”
“I’m scared that I don’t belong anymore. That I don’t belong anywhere anymore,” he admitted finally. The shameful confession uttered so quietly that the words almost got lost in his mentor’s heavy breaths on his cheeks.
“Oh,” Mr. Stark looked at him stunned, like he had grown a second head for a good moment before leaning forward and pulling him back in, holding him tighter than he had ever held him. Both arms folding across his back with the prosthetic cutting into his skin but it didn’t matter, it didn’t. Because he felt held together in place, in a place where he belonged and where he was wanted. He was being anchored and kept from drifting off into the infinite vastness of space and he was so incredibly grateful.
“You belong here, kiddo,” he took in the fierce words in his ear, let them run down his back and warm him like a hot shower after a cold day. “You belong with me and you belong with May. You belong in Queens and you belong here, in this lake house that has been planned with your bedroom in mind. You belong with your family and, for as long as you let me, I will never let you go ever again.”
He cried some more after that – cried himself to sleep that night in fact – but Mr. Stark was there the whole time, holding him, whispering reassurances and tickling a wet smile out of him eventually. The next day was a little bit better. The self- doubt didn’t evaporate, didn’t leave right away.
Some days were worse than others, some were better. Some the voices in his head had him going mad with why’s and what-if’s and some days he couldn’t even hear them over Morgan’s giggles and May’s bad jokes and Mr. Stark lecturing Dum-E.
Coming back wasn’t easy by any means and it did take a while but a couple of weeks later, he jumped out of Happy’s new SUV, running up to the front porch and flying into Mr. Stark’s waiting arms, and his thoughts hummed happily with only one thought.
Here is my gift for @garbotuesday for the @irondadsecretsanta event! I hope you enjoy this!
Link to the fic AO3!
~~~~~
The fifth one this week.
Mildred thought to herself noticing the scrawny teen enter the lobby of her motel. He was drenched to the bone and she watched as he took a few moments to shake off the excess water, before realizing he was creating a puddle of mess on the floor. In an instant, wide, forgiving eyes looked up at her and before the boy could stammer out an apology, Mildred motioned him forward with a pudgy finger.
The young teen walked over to the desk, timid and afraid. She offered the most reassuring smile she could before leaning in, resting her arms on the counter. “What can I do for you, hon?”
“I – uh – I need a place to stay, ma’am,” The boy said through chattering teeth. He sniffled, running a shivering hand beneath his nose.
She tried not to frown. “I see, hon. For how many nights?”
The boy swallowed, reaching into one of the pockets of his soaked, tattered jacket. A moment later he pulled out a few crumpled and torn bills. She watched as the boy took a careful glance at the sign placed on the counter, stating the 59.95 per night rate. He bit his lip, starting to count the meager amount of money in his hands.
Heart aching, she reached out, gently grabbing at his wrist. Too thin. He jumped, tightening his grip around the money and holding it close to his chest, as if she intended to snatch it away from him.
She loosened her grip, giving off the most reassuring smile she could, hoping it would put him at ease. His eyes darted around the lobby, most likely eyeing an escape.
She took a deep breath before saying, “I asked how many nights, sweetheart, not how much money you had. Don’t worry about that for right now. You just tell me how long you need a place to stay for, darling.”
The boy glanced from the door back to her. She noticed the tears at the corner of the boy’s eyes and the sadness behind them only demonstrated just a little of the pain he must being going through.
“Just a couple days, ma’am. Please.”
Mildred patted his hand softly, pulling back to grab one of the keys on the board behind her. “Let’s start with a week, honey and go from there, okay? Room thirty-two. Free breakfast served from 6 am to 9 am.”
The boy’s eyes widened at the information and Mildred couldn’t ignore the loud grumble coming from his stomach. She hobbles around the counter, carefully approaching the boy.
“Let’s get you settled into your room, hon. A shower would do you good as well and in the meanwhile, I’ll whip up a meal for you.”
The teen shook his head, stammering, “You don’t have to do that. I’ve got snacks.” He motioned towards the bag in his hands, unconsciously pulling it closer to his side.
Mildred eyed the tattered duffle bag in his hands and fought the urge to wrap the boy in her arms.
She smiled, showcasing her tired wrinkles. “Which you can save for later. No arguments now. Shower, meal and sleep.”
The teen offered her the tiniest hint of a smile which was more than she could have asked for that night.
A few hours later, after her new resident was settled in for the night, Mildred had been reading her book when the bell above her door chimed once more. She glanced up.
Now, this is interesting.
While this was a relatively small town and her, herself, being a relatively simple woman, she still had no trouble recognizing the rather frantic man in her motel lobby.
Tony Stark made a beeline towards her counter, face etched with a mixture of panic and determination. She set her book off to the side and straightened herself up in her chair, her spine disapproving of the action.
“And what can I do for you, sir?” She asked, crossing her arms in front of her, trying to convey as much calmness as possible while internally all her signals were set off.
“There’s a boy here. Peter. Peter Parker. Short, skinny. H-he’s got black, curly hair. He must have checked in a few hours ago. You have to tell me which room he’s in,” He replied, voice rough and scratchy.
Mildred mouth formed into a tight line and she had to bite her tongue. She was used to her establishment being used for certain unvirtuous gatherings but it was mostly kept to the middle-class men deep into their midlife crisis who were able to snatch up the girl offering the cheapest price.
She certainly was not used to billionaires and especially those that toyed with being a superhero on the side.
She slid off her chair, standing straight and pointed a finger into the man’s face.
“You listen to me right now, Stark. I don’t know what plan on doing with that poor young boy but it ain’t happening. You’re better off turning around and walking out this door right now and I can forget this ever happened,” She spatted out.
Stark shook his head, fumbling around in one of his coat pockets as he replied, “No, please! He’s – he’s not – you have it wrong!”
She watched as the man pulled out his phone, frantically skimmed through it and a moment later he shoved the device into her face. She took a step back before being met with another version of the boy standing her lobby just a few hours earlier. He’s standing next to Stark, who has an arm wrapped around the boy’s shoulders, holding him close. They are grinning widely, holding up a framed certificate.
Stark took a deep breath and explained, “He’s one of my interns. His aunt just died. I’ve been trying to track him down for days. Please. I know he’s here and I know he’s scared. He needs me.”
Mildred swallowed heavily, her thoughts racing through her mind. She was not a naive woman by any means, but there had been times that others have gotten the best of her before. And while Stark could be one of those people, deep down she knew he was telling the truth.
She sighed deeply before nodding her head. “Room thirty-two.”
~~~~
The second the door to the motel room opens and Tony sees Peter standing there, he fights the urge to collapse into tears.
“M-mister Stark?” Peter stammer out and before he gets another chance to bolt, Tony steps forward and wraps his arms around the teen, pressing his face into the curls. He takes a deep breath, trying to ground himself in reality, facing the fact that his kid was back in his arms. He hears the unmistakable sound of Peter sobs and tightens his hold, pressing a kiss to his head. He thinks he might never let go of him.
“Jesus Christ, Peter. Jesus fucking Christ. Do you have any idea the hell I’ve been in these past couple of days?” As soon as the words leave his mouth, he curses himself. Peter had gone through worse. Much worse than him. The kid had been dragged to hell and back, over and over.
He hears Peter trying to sputter out an apology and shushes the kid gently. “It’s okay, bud. It’s okay. Just thank God, you’re okay.”
Peter wraps his arms around him, crying into his chest and Tony presses another kiss to his head.
He doesn’t know how long they stand near the entrance of the room but eventually, he peels the teen off of him in order to take a good look at him. He gently cups the kid’s face with both hands, using his thumbs to wipe away his tears. He feels the heat radiating off Peter’s skin and listens to the wheezing coming from his chest. It’s no surprise the teen has fallen sick after wandering around in the frigid air for the past week.
“Come here, kiddo.” Tony pulls the kid back into his arms. Peter shivers slightly as he leans in to Tony’s side. Tony doesn’t hesitate before guiding the teen back to bed, helping him get settled underneath the covers before crouching down beside him. Peter stares back at him with wide, pleading eyes that are swollen and red from crying.
“I’m sorry,” Peter whispers as Tony begins to thread his fingers through the boy’s tangled mess of curls, trying to gently ease out some of the knots.
“Shh, none of that right now, bud. If anyone needs to apologize, it’s me. I should have been there for you and I wasn’t.”
Peter shakes his head, bottom lip trembling as he replies, “You were out of the country. You couldn’t have known.”
“Phones exist, kiddo, and somewhere along the way I failed to teach you that you can always reach out to me for anything.”
It’s quiet for a few moments before Peter lets out a loud sob. “I was s-so scared.”
Tony crawls up onto the bed and a moment later he’s cradling the boy in his arms.
“She was gone. Just like that. A-and they wouldn’t let me see her. I begged and they still wouldn’t. They tried to make me go with them but I couldn't. I just couldn't,” Peter cries, voice stuttering and raspy.
Whoever they were, Tony was going to rip them into shreds.
Tony rocks Peter in his arms, murmuring, “Easy, kiddo. I know it’s hard, but I need to you relax a little. You’re already having trouble breathing.” He gently rubs circles on the kid’s back, hoping to ease the tension in his muscles. He wants nothing more to get Peter back home with him, but the last thing his kid needs is to be whisked away in the middle of the night. From his best guess, this was the first solid bed Peter would be sleeping on in days.
Tony gets lost in his thoughts and when he glances back down at Peter, the kid is tucked into his chest, sound asleep. He lets out a deep sigh of relief, before tightening his grip and continuing to rock him gently through the night.
~~~~~
The next morning, Mildred watches out her lobby windows, holding her breath as Stark leads the child to his car.
The boy looks worse for wear, with a pale sickly face accompanied by dark circles under his eyes but he's at least in clean, dry clothes. He has to stop walking for a moment when he begins to cough and needs to catch his breath but Stark is there holding him close and rubbing his back. She watched as Stark help him into the passenger seat, tucking a blanket around him before buckling his seatbelt in. She sees him press a kiss to the side of the boy’s head before turning around. Before she knows it, he’s heading towards her and she scrambles behind her counter. She takes a seat right as he steps into the lobby, greeting with a smile.
“Peter told me you didn’t make him pay anything last night,” He says while pulling out his wallet. Before Mildred can say anything he pulls out a check and holds it out to her close enough for her to read the amount and her eyes widen.
“That is too much,” She says with a shake of her head, backing away slightly.
Stark huffs out a laugh, licking his lips before saying, “I have the wildest idea Peter isn’t the only lost kid out there you’ve helped out. Consider this a donation to your cause. Please. It’s the least I can do.” He places the check on the counter and she shakes her head once again, this time in disbelief.
“Thank you,” She whispers, grabbing the check and carefully tucking it into her pocket.
“No, thank you. If you hadn’t taken him in last night, I don’t know where he’d be now.”
She glances behind him, to the car where Peter is settled in. She smiles softly before stating, “Promise to take good care of that child from now on Stark.”
My Irondad Secret Santa gift to @ironfamjam! I really hope you like it, the prompt that I did was any au so I did a fantasy kind of au. Maybe because I wanted to draw Peter with super curly hair... maybe because I wanted to play with cape physics... Idk if it’s irondad enough, if not, the context is that Peter is the crown prince with Tony as his (adopted or bio) dad and he may or may not have magic. I kinda based it off of my own fantasy au but it can be up to interpretation lol. @irondadsecretsanta
Summary: Christmas had always been a quiet affair for the Parkers and when Peter met Tony Stark, he didn't think anything would change about that. Tony proves him wrong.
Word count: 2951
This is my entry for @irondadsecretsanta! I wrote this for the amazing @whumphoarder, happy holidays. <33
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Winter had always been Peter's favorite time of the year. Ever since he could remember, December was the time of fairy lights, hot chocolate and May's burnt Christmas cookies. Ben would take Peter to pick out a Christmas tree and all three of them would decorate it afterwards. His uncle always picked Peter up to put the star on top even when Peter was already a teenager.
And then it was just May and Peter.
They spent their first Christmas after Ben's death in a diner down the street after May burnt the turkey, both of them silently wiping away tears. Neither of them really was in the Christmas spirit.
After that, May tried to give Peter a proper Christmas every year. The weeks leading up to the holidays she would take countless double shifts in the hospital to afford at least a Lego set for her nephew. It was different from what they were used to, but they made it work.
When Peter met Tony Stark, he didn't think anything would change about that.
But after the whole showdown with the vulture, the two of them got a lot closer than either of them originally anticipated. Peter regularly went to the compound for upgrades and after a while, he would spend whole weekends with Tony tinkering in his lab.
They didn't spend Christmas together, but they got each other presents and for New Year's Tony even invited him and May up to the compound.
Barely half a year later, Thanos invaded the earth. Then Titan happened.
When he woke up, five years had passed and Tony almost lost his life defeating Thanos. And now, December 23nd, he is sitting in the Stark's living room, surrounded by fairy lights in each corner of the room when a little thatch of brown hair comes rushing in and barreling into his legs.
"Petey!" Morgan climbs up on the spot next to him with a serious look on her face, skipping the greeting to focus on more serious matters. "Gerald needs a bell."
Peter grins. "Oh yeah and why is that?"
"Because someone's got a little bit too deep into the Christmas spirit while shopping," Tony calls. He enters the living room with a bag so huge he has to use both arms to carry it and drops it onto the dining table with a huff. "Isn't that right, Madam Secretary?"
Morgan just giggles.
Peter picks her up and walks over to Tony, sparing a glance into the overflowing shopping bag. "Jesus, how much did you buy?"
"Don't ask me, I just paid for the stuff. But someone else here was very convinced we could not celebrate Christmas without these," - Tony pulls out a box with obnoxiously white and pink Christmas balls - "very beautiful Hello Kitty decorations."
Morgan hides her face in Peter's neck with a mischievous smile and presses her cold nose against his skin. He wraps his left arm around her waist so he can look through the bag with the other hand, pushing through numerous fairy lights, candles and Christmas balls.
"Well, I don't see a bell," Tony quirks an eyebrow at him and Peter shrugs. "The Chef said Gerald needs a bell and I do agree. He does need a bell."
Tony scoffs. "You're supposed to agree with me here, you know?"
Peter just smiles while Morgan throws her arms around his neck in a strangling hug.
"Unbelievable, betrayed by my own blood. Savages, both of you." Tony says and wraps his arms around his daughter, pulling her away from Peter and tickling her sides.
Morgan squeals loudly and wiggles out of Tony's grasp. She slaps his hands away when he playfully jabs her side again. "Can I go look for Uncle Happy?"
"Sure you can. But don't talk him into Juice Pops before dinner, Mom sees everything, you know that!" Tony calls after her, but Morgan was already dashing out of the living room in search of her uncle.
Peter stifles a laugh and Tony turns to the teenager, clapping a hand down on his shoulder. "Yeah, laugh it up. Don't think I'm letting you off the hook, you'll help me unpack all of that."
Peter whines, but starts to take the decorations out off the shopping bag and throwing them onto the dining table. He's at his fourth packing of fairy lights when he speaks up. "Not to judge but, uh, where do you plan to put all of that?"
"The basement," Tony picks up a ginormous, fluffy elk with a Santa hat and examines it with a skeptical frown. "Pepper is going to have a fit when she sees all of that stuff, so let's pick up the pace, kiddo."
Peter grins, but keeps unpacking silently.
To be honest, Peter enjoys the overbearing Christmas spirit the Stark's have going on. And that does include all the unnecessary Christmas decorations, so he actually doesn't mind helping Tony unpack everything. Peter just hopes that May will think something similar when she joins them on Christmas Eve instead of finding it too overbearing. She was at a staff training in New Jersey over the weekend, which is why Happy had picked Peter up from school and brought him to the lake house to spend the days leading up to Christmas there.
"- Hey, kid, you listening to me?"
Peter jerks up, blinking at Tony. "Sorry, what? I- I didn't catch that."
"Yeah, I noticed," Tony smirks, but his smile is soft and his eyes held a fondness that was reserved only for his kids. "I asked how your Spanish exam went. You tired, kid?"
Now that Tony mentioned it, Peter realizes that he was tired. He had been generally exhausted for the past two weeks, but between finals and patrols he had paid that not a lot of thought. Now that he could relax, the ache in his bones became unpleasantly obvious.
"Worn out from finals, I guess." he admits sheepishly.
Tony nods and walks around the table to Peter. "Yeah, you look it." he mutters, running his flesh hand through the teenager's hair. Peter makes a sound of protest but it quickly dies down when he leans into the comforting touch. He reminds Tony of a kitten. "You wanna catch a quick nap before dinner? I got the rest of this. And
don't worry, I'll cover for you with Madam Secretary."
Peter chuckles quietly, feeling drained all of the sudden. "You sure?"
"100%. Now go before I change my mind." Tony says and gives Peter a gentle push towards the hallway before turning back to the dining table.
Peter just gives him a mock salute in return.
He can hear Morgans‘ enthusiastic chattering outside when he walks down the hallway to his room and closes the door behind him, blocking out the noise. He shuts the window for good measure as well and pulls the curtains closed before crawling under the covers. Peter falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.
X
It’s already dark outside when Pepper comes home from work. Tony had thankfully managed to clear all evidence of their Christmas shopping, stuffing most of it into already overbearing corners in the hope that his wife wouldn’t notice that way.
Morgan had claimed the hideous elk they bought as hers though, dragging both Happy and the stuffed toy into the living room to play while Tony prepared dinner.
After hearing his wife greet Morgan and Happy in the room next door Pepper joins Tony in the kitchen, giving him a peck on the cheek. “Where are you hiding Peter?”
“In his room, catching up on sleep before dinner.”
Pepper hums and leans over her husband’s shoulder to peek into the cooking pot. Tony turns around, putting his hands on Peppers waist and gives her a kiss to greet her properly.
“You’re just trying to keep me away from your chili, aren’t you?” she grins up at him, wrapping her arms around Tony’s neck.
“Well, is it working? It’s the only thing I can cook, you know.”
Pepper just chuckles quietly before going in for another kiss.
Tony breaks the embrace first, picking up the wooden spoon from the counter and holding it out to his wife. “Don’t let the food scorch while I go and wake Peter.
He hands the spoon over to Pepper and sticks his head into the living room to tell Happy and Morgan that dinner’s almost ready before heading down the hallway to
Peter’s room.
Tony stops in front of the door and knocks. “Peter,” he calls out. “Dinner’s ready.”
When he doesn’t receive a response, Tony huffs and opens the door. Unsurprisingly, Peter’s room is immersed into darkness, lights shut off and the curtains drawn. It’s only from the faint light in the hallway that Tony can see the bed and Peter, completely hidden under his comforter.
Tony makes his way over to him and peels the blanket away from the heap that is Peter. Woken up from the sudden movement, the teenager blinks up at him owlishly. “Good morning, sunshine,” Tony says and sits down on the edge of the bed. “Dinner’s ready. You want to try and emerge from your cave?”
Peter groans. He sits up and rubs his eyes, curls falling loosely into his face. “I slept. Why am I still so tired?”
“Burden of being a teenager, huh?”
Peter just glares at him halfheartedly and Tony pats Peter’s calf through the blanket. “C’mon, chop chop. Dinner’s getting cold.”
With a sigh Peter moves to get up from the bed and Tony waits until he’s on his feet before leaving the room.
In the kitchen Pepper was already serving the food while Morgan’s sitting at the table. Morgan beams as Tony enters room and he blows a raspberry on her cheek while passing by her seat. She giggles, but is already distracted when Peter shuffles into the kitchen.
“Petey”, she cheers and Peter tries to smile. “You’re awake!”
If you can call it that, Tony thought. In the bright kitchen light the kid looks the worse for wear, two shades too pale and deep bags under his eyes. But even though the kid’s obviously exhausted, he still tries to keep up his banter with Morgan and sits down beside her.
Tony keeps up conversation with Pepper during dinner, she tells him that Happy had to leave before dinner because he was needed in town, but he can’t help glancing back at Peter every now and then. He’s barely touching his food and when everyone else is already finished, not even half of it is gone.
“Didn’t you like it?” Morgan wonders loudly, suspiciously eyeing Peter’s plate.
Before Peter can response, Tony chimes in. “Morguna, why don’t you go in the living room and pick out a movie we can watch,” he gets up and loops an arm around Morgan’s waist, picking her up. “That sound like a good idea?”
“Yeah!” she cheers and Tony presses a series of kisses onto her cheek before she runs into the living room.
Pepper had already begun to collect the dishes and Tony quickly jumps in to help her with dish washing. Peter now gets up as well, bringing the last bowl over to the sink before asking if he can help out.
“Oh no, sweetie, I’ve got it covered.” Pepper assures him with a smile.
Tony goes to ruffle Peter’s hair, but halts when he comes into contact with his skin. He runs his hand through the kid’s hair until he can cup the back of his head and holds Peter in place to put his lips onto his forehead.
Peter balks, but Tony doesn’t pay that any attention and instead moves back with a frown and replaces his lips with a palm to the cheek. “You’re warm.”
“What’s going on?” Pepper asks over the running water, turning her head over her shoulder.
“Kid’s coming down with something.”
“I’m not,” Peter protests, moving back so he’s out of Tony’s reach. “I’m just tired, okay? Finals were exhausting and- and patrols just take longer now because apparently no one got the memo that you don’t do crimes on Christmas and-”
“Woah kid, hey,” Tony interrupts Peter, putting his hands down on his shoulders. “It’s fine. Let’s just take it easy tonight. C’mon, we’re going to sit down on the couch, I’m sure Morgan needs help picking out a movie.”
He guides one hand down to the small of Peter’s back and steers him towards the living room, but not before throwing a subtle look over his shoulder to Pepper. She looks after Peter concerned before catching Tony’s eye and giving him a meaningful look.
Tony gets Peter settled on the couch and tellingly, Peter lets Tony manhandle him for the most part. He’s just opened out a blanket and places it over Peter when Pepper joins them and sprawls out on the seat next to Tony, pulling Morgan into her lap after she chose Nightmare Before Christmas for them to watch. Tony snorts at the irony of that.
Peter curls up onto the couch, rearranging the blanket until it covered most of Tony’s lap as well before putting his head on Tony’s shoulder. Tony moves his arm around Peter and runs his hand through Peter’s curls, discreetly pulling out his phone to check Peter’s temperature.
He rarely uses FRIDAY these days, but for occasions like this he still had her installed in the lake house. Tony didn’t need her to power the suit anymore, so she was more of a convenience than anything else.
Peter’s temperature sits around 99.8 and while that wasn’t exactly a fever, it was an elevated temperature. Tony frowns as he looks down at Peter, brushing hair away from his forehead.
“What?” Peter suddenly asks, almost slurring with tiredness, and looks up at Tony blearily.
“Hm?”
“I can feel you starring at me,” he mumbles quietly to not distract Morgan from her movie, closing his eyes again and cuddling into Tony’s chest. “S’creepy.”
Tony snorts in amusement and lowers his cheek onto Peter’s head. “Go to sleep, kiddo.”
“M’kay.”
Sometime during the movie Morgan had moved to lay on both Tony and Pepper’s laps, snoring quietly and outstretched like a starfish which, to be honest, was pretty impressive given the little space she had. Pepper was leaning against his metal arm, playing with Morgan’s hair in her lap while Peter was asleep on Tony’s chest
Tony was drifting off himself when Pepper leans in. “I’m going to bring Morgan upstairs and then go to bed,” she whispers. “You want me to wait for you?”
Tony glances at Peter, then shakes his head. “No, it’s okay.”
“Alright.”
Pepper gives Tony a goodnight kiss before lifting Morgan up into her arms. She stirs but doesn’t wake and Pepper carries her out of the room, giving him and Peter a
soft smile before closing the door behind her.
X
When Peter wakes up the next morning it’s to a splitting headache.
He opens his eyes with a low moan, blinking until his vision clears up and realizes that he’s, in fact, not in his bed. He’s sprawled out on the couch, curled up to Tony with his head on the man’s chest.
Tony’s still asleep so Peter tries to sit up without waking him, but as soon as he moves pain shoots through his head and he flinches, letting out an involuntary groan.
“Peter?” Tony asks groggily, propping himself up onto his elbow. But as soon as he sees Peter, grimacing in pain, he sits up abruptly and puts a hand on Peter’s back. “Hey, kid, talk to me. What’s wrong?”
“Headache.” he croaks out and Tony puts the back of his hand to Peter’s forehead.
“Shit. Friday, temperature.”
“102.4° Fahrenheit, boss.” the AI answers and Tony pats Peter’s shoulder in sympathy, the teenager whining quietly.
Tony gets up from the couch. “Sit tight, kid.”
He disappears into the kitchen and Peter falls back onto the couch, curling up around a pillow and squeezing his eyes shut.
He must have dosed off again because he startles at the sound of the curtains being pulled shut. When he opens his eyes again, the room his comfortably dark and he watches Tony sit back down on the couch holding pain killers and a glass of water.
“Here,” Tony hands both over to Peter. “How are you doing? You feel like eating?”
“Not really.”
Peter takes the painkillers and drinks about half the glass of water before he puts it down on the coffee table. Tony’s not taking his eyes off him, face set into a worried frown.
“C’mon, say it.” Peter sighs.
“Say what?”
“That you were right and told me that I was coming down with something beforehand”, Peter settles down against the back off the couch and Tony moves to sit beside him. “I’m ruining Christmas.”
Tony ducks his head to meet Peter’s eyes. “You’re not ruining anything, kiddo, okay? I’ll take care of you and you’ll be fine by tomorrow, just wait. We'll make it work, I promise.”
Tony puts an arm around Peter and pulls him back against his side. Peter cuddles up to him again, resting his head on Tony’s chest while he pulls the blanket back over Peter. “You just rest now. I’m not going anywhere.” At the end of the day, Peter is still sick on Christmas Eve. He's running a decent fever and Tony dotes on him like a mother hen, making him broth and massaging his scalp to try and ease the headache while Morgan brings him Juice Pops he can't eat because he's nauseous. He wouldn't have it any other way.
My very tiny, very cute taglist of very tiny, very cute people (let me know if you want to be tagged for future works): @baloobird @toomuchtoread33 @fourleafchloe @gabesgoldwings @starbirks @yepokokfine @thatmarvelstan @autisticbabynurse @crytallized @mysterio-is-a-little-bitch @sbiderman-ironcan @iron-damn
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Merry Christmas! 🌲☃️🎉
Hey, @zuusiee I'm your Secret Santa for @irondadsecretsanta!!! Merry Christmas again!
I wrote a piece of fanfiction for you, I really hope you enjoy and this is what you expected your gift to be. I let myself get a little carried away... but in just to spray the iron dad love.
I had to kill Aunt May, I'm really sorry about that. I'm just cannot allow Peter to be adopted by Tony if May is alive. I really hope you can forgive me for such sadness and hurt on such a glorious holiday. It ends happy though. Without further a do, lets get to the gift.
#irondadsecretsanta
Summary:
More than a month since May's death Peter is having a less than stellar day at school in the hopes of making it through the day so he can get to the apartment where he's been living with Tony since his world came crashing around him. Meanwhile, Tony has been advised to adopt Peter to assure him he won't leave him.
