Congrats, It’s a Spider-Boy (Part 2)
Marvel MCU
7,022 Words
As promised, Peter and Tony go on a bonding weekend away.
Tony had hardly slept before the sun had begun its ascent into the sky, dawn spreading its rays further and further across the floorboards from the slightly parted curtains with every passing minute. The billionaire found it almost poetic, the previously pitch dark room becoming violet with warm streaks of pink and orange; a new dawn of its own broke last night, and instead of warm colors, Tony could still see the bright and sharp neon blue bands of DNA linking him to Peter before his eyes. Peter, no doubt still fast asleep in his room down the hall, had been a breaking dawn in the darkness of Tony and Steve’s falling out, even if Tony hadn’t known it until the metaphorical noon—midmorning really.
The mounting number of metaphors piling up seemed like a good indicator that he probably needed to eat something. Tony stretched as he sat up, and earned a few satisfying cracks in the process. He’d pulled on some socks before leaving his room, and still tried to tread carefully past Peter’s room. In case the kid—his kid, Tony reminded himself proudly, still had dialed up senses during sleep, he’d hate to wake him up.
First order of business upon entering the kitchen was turning on the coffee machine, before beginning what was probably somewhat of a ridiculous effort to make pancakes as close to silently as possible; ridiculous or not, Tony was determined to make a better breakfast than the one time he’d tried to whip up an omelet for Pepper, if one would be so kind to call the slightly burnt, very dry egg patty an omelet. Bacon was pretty safe, he figured, after all the only thing one needed do was drop a strip or eight in a pan and wait until the bacon was cooked however one preferred it. Tony took a sip of coffee, asked F.R.I.D.A.Y. to make sure his schedule had been cleared for the day, and flipped the first few pancakes onto a plate. Pouring more batter onto the large skillet, Tony checked that the pancakes wouldn’t burn if he took a few minutes to go wake Peter.
He still attempted to walk quietly down the hall and knocked quietly on Peter’s door in case the teen already happened to be up. Tony’s eyes took a second to adjust to being back into a dark room after he opened Peter’s door, and saw his son curled around a pillow. His son…Tony let out a content sigh. He sat gingerly on the side of the bed; Peter shifted and let out a breathy mumble as he curled more tightly around his pillow. Tony lifted a hand to brush though the sleeping boy’s brown locks.
“Pete.” When the teen didn’t react, Tony brushed a thumb over Peter’s cheek, “Peter, it’s time to wake up.” That time, Peter’s eyes opened slowly and locked with his as a lazy grin spread across his face. “Hey bud! Good morning,” Tony greeted softly, and felt his own grin pull at the corners of his mouth.
“G’morning,” Peter slurred, the pull of sleep still clearly tugging at his mind. Peter rubbed at his eyes, finally freeing his pillow, and the action made him look so much younger; Tony wondered if in a different life, he’d have seen Peter waking up at an even younger age, voice slurred with inexperience in speech instead of sleepiness, and tiny fists poking out of the cuffed sleeves of a fleece onesie. It didn’t do to linger on such fantasies, and Tony was determined to enjoy what time he had from then on with his baby.
He ruffled Peter’s already horrendous bed head, “I’ve got some breakfast waiting for you in the kitchen.”
Peter looked at the cup of milk quizzically, but before he could say anything Tony piped up after returning the milk jug to the fridge.
“You can have some coffee after your growing bones get some calcium; drink that milk up, spiderling.” The billionaire smirked at Peter’s feigned pout, which lasted the few seconds it took for Peter to raise his glass to his lips, and Tony returned his attention to the bacon.
The scene was overwhelmingly domestic, what with the finished pile of homework and the backpack on the far end of the counter and Peter eating his fill of pancakes and what bacon had gone into the pan first. Tony made a mental note to schedule a day with May to go to the courthouse and amend Peter’s birth certificate.
“Mr. Stark, is Ms. Potts having breakfast?” Peter asked, a bacon crumb at the side of his mouth. Tony hummed while grabbing a napkin.
“No, little Stark, Pep had to leave around four in the a.m. for a business meeting with some partner company reps in D.C.” He didn’t comment on Peter flushing pink at the nickname, but instead held out the napkin. Peter thanked him quietly and wiped his mouth. Tony turned his mind back to his mug of cooling coffee and took a long drink before topping it off again from the coffee pot. The rest of breakfast proceeded with comfortable silence, with brief interruptions of questions or reminders of forthcoming events, and soon enough Peter was packing away his homework and had changed into the clothes he’d brought along with him for the trip upstate.
Tony found himself operating on auto-pilot during the car ride to the Parkers’ apartment, the realization that it would soon come time for Peter to learn to drive at the forefront of his busy thoughts. Every so often he’d take a glance over at the teen, but Peter simply sat quietly, a content expression on his face as he watched the scenery pass outside the window. Yet, for all the quiet and peace that seemed to make the drive last forever, a moment suspended outside of the passage of time, the sun still did rise higher into the sky and it seemed that all too soon the traffic of the city began. Once an orange Audi was parked less than a block away, and the two had made their way to the door of the apartment, May swung the door open. An anticipatory grin stretched across her features, and Peter had to physically stifle the groan fighting to be born at the sight of May’s arms heavily laden with photo albums.
Tony was just happy he didn’t have to ask to see Peter’s baby photos like a creep. May locked eyes with him, and her grin seemed to only get wider. She addressed him with a sing-song voice, “Let’s begin. I’ll make copies but the frames are on your dime.”
He chuckled darkly, looking at Peter. May joined him with her own feigned evil laugh before Tony responded, “Frames won’t be an issue. You have 15 years to debrief me on.” Tony passed Peter to walk into the apartment, ruffling the boy’s hair in doing so, as May shuffled to the breakfast table and plopped down the first photo album. Peter was in for a long, nostalgic, and slightly cringe-filled Saturday; good thing he’d had a filling breakfast.
Days bled together in the weeks leading to Peter’s weekend with Tony, and with the arrival of the Friday they were to leave, Peter’s excitement was born anew. He’d rushed home from school, head full of details for stories to fill the car ride with, and upcoming events to share his excitement about. It would be the first day that week that Tony wouldn’t need to call him for an update; the billionaire had adopted the habit of calling daily, although the timing could be sporadic, to check in on Peter and hear about his day.
As he was stuffing his laptop charger into his backpack Peter felt a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. Tony really was trying where he could to be a father…
Just the previous week Tony had met May at the courthouse and they had done the necessary paperwork to get Tony recognized as Peter’s father; Tony had made a point that he didn’t have any intentions of changing Peter’s name however, since “The name he grew up with is already part of his identity, it wouldn’t be reasonable to change it.” They’d made plans to have Tony claim Peter to the public just before the Parkers’ lease on their apartment was up so that any paparazzi would have a harder time finding them once they’d moved. Peter figured it was about as close to perfect as the situation could be.
Tony wanted to claim him as a son in front of the world…
He’d finished packing just as a knock sounded from the apartment’s front door; he could hear May welcoming Tony in seconds later. With his backpack over one shoulder, he hefted his duffle bag’s strap onto the other and walked out of his room to greet his father. When Tony saw him he’d held his arms out wide, looking about as excited for the weekend ahead as Peter felt, and Peter dropped his bags on the couch to accept the hug.
“Hey kid, how was school today?” Tony asked, pulling back just enough to be able to look at Peter through his sunglasses. Peter shook his head in response.
“Good, but I’m saving the details for the car.”
Tony nodded, “Can’t wait to hear ‘em. You ready? Everything packed?” Peter gave him an affirmative ‘yeah’ and gestured to the dropped bags. “Alright, then, let’s get this show on the road. May, I’ll give you a call if we run into any snags on the way back Sunday evening.”
May simply hummed to acknowledge she heard him, far more occupied with giving Peter a hug and kissing his cheek, “Alright, call me if any crime fighting is done, young man. Have a good time, be safe, I love you,” May punctuated her reminders by kissing Peter’s other cheek for good measure, using one of her hands to cup and squish the boy’s face while she was at it. She didn’t acknowledge his pink dusted cheeks when he gave her another farewell squeeze before going to pick his bags back up; she was just happy her little boy hadn’t grown out of goodbye kisses, even if he might’ve been embarrassed Tony saw him get his face squished. Said man clapped Peter on the shoulder, took his duffle bag to carry and waved to her as he and Peter were walking out of the apartment. May sighed, a content smile on her face despite having no clue what to do with a weekend to herself; this would be good bonding time for Peter and Tony.
Tony chuckled quietly as Peter rambled on about his day, from thinking up a more water-resistant webbing formula during downtime in his chemistry lab, to having to pretend to be winded and tired after running a still questionably quick mile in gym. Tony interjected with a suggestion, “If you want to join a sport to get rid of some energy, gymnastics seems like a good fit. It’d be sorta like training for your spider-man business.” Tony glanced over to see Peter nodding. “Or a martial art, whatever. Male dancers are usually in short supply if you’d want to go down that road.” He remembered upon first meeting Peter that the teen had wanted to but felt he couldn’t play football. Peter tapped a finger to his lip, apparently really giving the idea thought.
“Gymnastics would be fun…” he trailed off as a wide grin broke out across his face, “I’d have to use a ton of that powder stuff so I wouldn’t stick to the bars.” Tony snorted and shook his head. His kid thought of everything.
With a couple hours until closing, Tony pulled the orange Audi into a space and parked in front of a white building spotted with blues and greens. Tony could hear Peter gasp as they exited the car.
“An aquarium?! Yes!”
After paying for tickets, which Peter appeared to vibrate with excitement while waiting for, Tony watched the teen go to each and every tank pointing out marine life he thought looked cool or interesting. The lights from the tanks cast the darkened rooms with an otherworldly glow, yet did nothing to dim the look of awe in Peter’s smile and wide eyes. Peter’s excitement couldn’t have been more endearing.
“Mr. Stark, did you see it? The stingray swam up to let me pet it!”
“Look, Mr. Stark, that sea turtle is huge! That’s so cool!”
“Oh! Tony, I found the octopus! It’s curled up in that little hole! That one there in the back—there—you see it?”
Tony had felt his heart stop for a moment when Peter had grabbed his arm in the shark tunnel, a large bull shark seemingly headed towards them only to swim overhead, following the shape of the tunnel and swimming away further into its tank. Peter had gasped, the sudden appearance of the toothy shark seemed to have surprised him, and Tony had heard a breathy “Dad!” leave the teen’s lips. As Peter’s wide eyes followed the retreating form of the shark, he felt Tony wrap the arm he’d been clutching around his shoulders. The brief moment of fear was soon replaced once again with awe as more sharks and some large turtles swam overhead.
Near the exit of the sharks’ exhibit was the transition to the penguins’ wing of the building, and Peter cooed at a few of the different chicks waddling about their enclosures, usually either chased by or chasing their parents. Peter watched a parent aggressively grooming a chick only for the chick to complain loudly and fail at trying to run from its caretaker; Peter had to giggle, reminded of May always fussing over his unruly curls on school picture days, but stopped when he felt a hand combing through his hair. Taking a moment to let himself savor the silent form of affection, Peter hummed and leaned into Tony’s hand. He made no move to reject his parent’s attention as the chick did, even if at one point he felt Tony had been overbearingly protective and it had ended with a dropped building and a downed plane.
But such things were in the past. He still felt Tony was very protective, but he knew Tony was just looking out for him, so here he stood letting his newly-found father pet his hair as if he’d been doing it since Peter was small. It was food for thought, how different his life would’ve been if he’d gone to live with Tony when his parents passed instead of May; he’d probably have been running around and tripping over things in the lab at a young age, and a lot less prone to stage fright. But he had Tony and May in the here and now, and Peter couldn’t ask for a pair of parents that tried harder than they did. He was brought out of his thoughts when he felt Tony tilt his head against his own.
“You know,” Tony started, and Peter could hear the grin in his voice, “I think the reptile and arachnid terrarium wing is next if you wanted to say hi to your cousins.” Peter snorted and lightly jabbed an elbow into Tony’s side, effectively breaking the little side hug they’d had as they walked on.
Peter settled into the car with a grin, “I kinda want to watch Finding Nemo now…” As he buckled his seatbelt he saw Tony in his peripheral lowering his sunglasses.
“Truly a masterpiece of cinema,” Tony remarked, nodding with finality. “We’ll watch it over dinner. What’re you in the mood for?”
Peter hugged the penguin and penguin chick plushies they’d bought to his chest, running a thumb over the faux fur feathers of the stuffed toys as he thought. “I’m not really craving anything in particular, what about you?”
Tony took a few moments to answer, tapping the steering wheel with one hand a few times, “There’s a sort of umbrella Asian restaurant a few blocks from the condo; we could just make an international take-out feast of it, get some lumpia, kimchi, steamed buns, the works. They do really good honey-garlic Korean fried chicken, too. How’s that sound?”
To a boy like Peter who had an advanced metabolism and loved Asian food of all kinds, that was apparently the best suggestion Tony could’ve made, and he could guess as much before Peter even opened his mouth from the boy’s delighted brown eyes and anticipatory grin. “Okay I should set a good example so we’re going to order steamed veggies, and we’re both going to eat them before getting any second servings. Capiche?”
Peter’s expression became one that even with his glance while driving Tony could tell was feigned seriousness and completely accepting of the condition before Peter replied, “Capiche,” with an obviously forced bored tone. Suddenly the car in front of them slammed on its brakes, and despite the Audi being programmed to automatically brake, Tony’s hand still shot out in front of Peter’s chest. Once the car ahead began moving again Tony let out the breath he’d been holding and he saw Peter relax in his peripheral. At least they wouldn’t have to been witnesses to report some kind of crash…
Tony heard Peter let out a small laugh in the passenger seat, “You do that thing May does when she drives. Ned and I call it a ‘parent reflex’,” he explained. Tony whistled a generic video game achievement tune, one from a vague memory of his and Rhodey’s MIT days, and tried to lower his voice an octave to emulate a game narrator.
“Plus 5 Parent Points obtained; Level Up!”
Peter snorted before pitching his voice and tone to what Tony always attributed most flight attendants’ speech as he added “Achievement Unlocked: Dad Reflexes, one out of one son shielded. Four vegetables needed to unlock Achievement: Healthy Eating.”
Tony shook his head with a fond smile, letting Peter’s add-on hang in the air a few seconds so changing the subject wouldn’t seem like a dismissal.
“You have anything specific you want to do tomorrow?” Tony glanced at Peter to see him shaking his head, still smiling. “Well if you had fun at the aquarium we can see about hitting up the zoo tomorrow, maybe after a lazy brunch?”
He’d had the boy at ‘zoo’ when out of the corner of his eye Tony saw Peter’s head whip around to look at him, eyes still discernibly wide with a gaping, open-mouthed smile to match. Peter quickly realized he hadn’t answered and cleared his throat, “Yeah, the zoo sounds awesome, let’s do that.”
Peter had been unpacking his duffle bag in his designated room when Tony had called him to come out. Two large white take-out bags filled to bursting sat on the marble-topped island in the middle of the kitchen. Peter came into the room just as Tony was opening the first bag, a freshly washed stack of the seldom-used condo’s plates sitting nearby on the counter. Tony seemed to be searching for a particular container in the bags, and after the man had let out an exclaimed “A-ha!”, Peter was having a stare-down with the steaming container of vegetables.
“Let’s get this part over with and get to the good stuff,” Tony said, wrinkling his nose but still smirking all the same as he handed Peter a plate and fork. Soon enough Peter had a small mountain of veggies on his plate and the end of a broccoli stem hanging out of his mouth as he got a can of soda out of the fridge. He could hear Tony bringing the bags of food into the living room as the opening theme of Finding Nemo filled the apartment. Grabbing an extra soda for Tony and his plate of veggies, Peter joined Tony on the wraparound couch. The billionaire had an arm around the back of the couch, the other jabbing at the plate of vegetables balanced on his lap; as Peter sat down he felt the arm on the back of the couch fall around his shoulder.
As dinner and the movie progressed, Peter leaned more into Tony’s side. Whether Tony had been conscious of it, at any times the titular character had been in danger the arm holding Peter’s shoulder would clutch him just a bit tighter. The rest of the evening was spent exchanging quips and passing food, and at Bruce the shark’s sudden appearance Peter jumped.
“I always forget when he shows up!” he cried, and pouted at Tony’s chuckling. Tony wrapped his arm back around the pouting teen and Peter settled his head back on Tony’s shoulder.
“Pete, there’s no shame in being zero to two losing to shark jump scares in one day.” Tony offered Peter another piece of lumpia, to which the teen broke his pouting to take and nibble on the food, a mumbled ‘Thanks’ meeting Tony’s ears. Tony ruffled Peter’s hair as he turned his attention back to the TV.
As the jazzy ending credits began to play, Tony sat up with a satisfying stretch. He made a note to order grocery delivery for in the morning as he and Peter took their dishes to the kitchen to wash. As the sink began to run Tony glanced over at the piano in the corner for a moment, and it seemed Peter followed his gaze.
“Do you play it or does Ms. Potts? The piano, I mean.” Peter inquired, taking up a dish towel to dry the dishes as Tony washed them. “It’s really pretty.” He added. A grin pulled at one side of Tony’s mouth; he’d said the same thing when Maria had first brought one into his childhood house.
“It’s mine. I haven’t played it in forever, though.” He paused to hand Peter a washed plate to dry, “Funny enough, my mom first bought one for our house because she missed playing at her parents’ before she was married.” Scrubbing the second plate Tony looked back over at the corner the piano sat in, no doubt needing to be dusted and maybe slightly out of tune from disuse. He’d lost his other one when the Malibu house fell into the ocean.
Peter laid the plate he’d finished drying on the counter to take the second one as Tony rinsed it off, still curious about the sleek black instrument. “Did she teach you to play it, or did you have lessons?”
“When our first one was delivered, Mom wasted no time showing me what songs she remembered how to play. I was still small enough for her to scoop up and set me on her lap, and she’d put her hands over mine to show me where to put my fingers and which keys to press. The boring stuff like keeping time and reading sheet music came later.”
Peter seemed content with that answer, and the pair went about finishing up doing the dishes quietly, only the clinking of ceramic and silver ringing through the space. After they were finished, Peter said he was going to go shower. Once he’d figured out which knob started the hot water and had grabbed a towel, he could faintly hear the tinkling of piano keys being gently pressed down the hall.
Tony expected the missed keys and such that came with years without practice, but it seemed like something to take up again while Peter’s hearing was muffled with the rushing water of a shower. He’d tossed the cloth he’d used to clean off the dust from the keys a few feet away before sitting down, and tried to recall the notes to songs he knew Maria had sat down and taught him. He hadn’t heard the shower turn off or the quiet footfalls approaching; he hadn’t even noticed a whole teenager sitting on the couch a few paces away until some time had passed and he’d had his fill, finally looking up and over to where Peter lounged. It had gotten quite dark outside while he’d been playing, and it seemed Peter had been there for a little while. Peter’s hair, still visibly damp but not dripping, had become even curlier from the shower and a lack of a brush; Tony stood up from the piano bench and ran a hand through it a few times. Peter had evidently been asleep for some time, as throughout Tony petting his hair, the boy did not stir. With a sigh and a lopsided smile Tony picked him up to take him to his room.
The penguin plushies were sitting together on the bed, carefully placed together against the far-side pillow; Tony had to resist a snort as he tried to pull back Peter’s blankets without waking the teen up. He’d managed to get Peter into bed and brought the blankets up to his shoulders, and as an afterthought removed the far-side pillow from the plushies to set down at Peter’s side, knowing the teen liked to curl around them while he slept. Tony took a moment to make sure Peter was tucked in, for the moment at least, and figured he could do some work on his tablet until he went to bed himself. Before moving away to leave Tony moved Peter’s bangs out of his face, and with a moment’s hesitation, leaned down and pressed his lips to Peter’s forehead. He tore himself away and sighed, “Goodnight, Son.”
Tony had expected a few things from waking up the next morning, like grogginess and a caffeine craving; he hadn’t been expecting the split second heart attack he’d had upon seeing Peter sleeping on the other side of the bed. The massive jolt he’d had must’ve been enough to wake the boy, as a couple sleepy brown eyes blinked up at him and Tony was able to take a breath.
“Hey Baby-Mine, didn’t like your own mattress?” Noticing the grey fluff poking out from under Peter’s arm, Tony noted he’d brought the penguin chick plushy with him.
“I had a nightmare and I didn’t want to wake you up…”
“Oh…” Tony trailed off; he knew how that was. “You wanna talk about it?” he asked, propping himself up on an elbow. Peter shook his head and hugged the plushy just a little tighter. Tony let out a breath through his nose. “Okay, well,” he paused to brush Peter’s bangs out of his eyes, “Would you want to discuss breakfast plans instead?” The mention of food seemed to brighten Peter’s mood as a grin spread of his face. “Look at me,” Tony continued, and Peter’s eyes met his again, “Wake me up next time, okay?”
“Okay.”
With a final ruffle of Peter’s hair, Tony untangled himself from his blankets and got up to go make breakfast. Once Peter was eating his fill of waffles and yogurt, thank goodness for the grocery delivery that came shortly after Tony and Peter had gotten up, Tony had started trying to find the spare sunglasses and sunscreen he’d packed. He’d set them on the counter once they’d been found so he could get his own breakfast plated up.
“What’re those for?” Peter inquired, gulping down the waffle that’d been in his mouth.
“You. We’re going out when the sun is high in the sky, so you’re going to need sunglasses for you precious little spider-sense eyes, and sunscreen because you are by no means tan or UV-proof, sweet child of mine.” Tony punctuated the explanation by shoving a yogurt-laden spoon in his mouth and taking a waffle off the waffle iron to plop on his plate.
Sure enough, true to his word once they’d finished eating Tony had Peter practically bathe in sunscreen while he took care of the dishes. He picked the bottle out of Peter’s hand once his limbs had been covered.
“Look at me for a sec.” was all the warning Peter got before Tony started spreading the sunscreen over his cheeks and forehead, and at Peter’s pout ‘booped’ his nose with a streak of sunscreen for good measure. He’d cupped the boy’s face in his hands to finish spreading it under his eyes and on his nose, and at Peter’s expense had to coo at how adorable the boy’s face was with his cheeks squished.
Despite the harsh sun, the day carried on much like the one before it with Peter rambling excitedly in the car and running to and fro from the exhibits with stars in his eyes. After a couple hours Tony had the boy slathered with sunscreen again and Peter pouted for all of ten minutes, ready to jump back into the fray of exploring the park instead of waiting for the sunscreen to soak in. They’d gotten some water while waiting on Peter’s skin protection regiment, and some shaved ice as an afterthought; suddenly Peter’s pouting became delighted humming once more, and Tony didn’t give a single care about what Pepper or May would say about him spoiling his baby boy. The resemblance was uncanny still when Peter had on a pair of his sunglasses, even if at the moment he’d been pale as a sheet.
They’d apparently come on a good day; there were only a dozen or so small families and a single field trip, so foot traffic hadn’t been obnoxious and they could walk at their own pace. Peter would excitedly gasp at the ‘cool’ animals, even if they were napping like the lions had been or cutely playing in a mud hole like the elephants; they’d had a good chuckle over a rhino aggressively defending its ridiculously small mud hole from other rhinos that had been headed to a bigger mud hole nearby anyway. Tony was glad to see Peter acting like a carefree kid, cooing over pandas rolling down a hill or jumping up and down with excitement because a tiger chuffed at him before promptly jumping into its pool.
Even if he was over a decade late, he was content to spend time with his kid in the here and now; he’d be able to do things with Peter that Howard had never bothered to do with him. The thought made Tony glance down at his watch; Peter had forty-five minutes until it was time for a sunscreen reapplication.
“You clearly want to ask me something,” Tony pointed out, briefly looking up from the tomato he was cubing. Halfway through the drive home and since they’d gotten to the condo, Peter would look over at him and open his mouth to say something only to close it and look away again. “Look, I know sunscreen is tedious but I don’t want to get an earful from May because our kid got sunburnt the first weekend he spent with me.”
Peter gave a little laugh at this, but no explanation. “Come on, kid, the sooner you ask the sooner I can answer.” Peter nodded at that, scratching the back of his head.
“I,um…this isn’t really the time or place, I think,” Peter shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”
Tony put down his knife and grabbed a towel to dry his hands, “I’m probably the worst person to tell not to worry about something, Pete,” he said, walking over to sit on the couch next to Peter. “What’s up?”
Peter brought his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, resting his chin on one of his forearms and pointedly not looking at Tony.
“I’m really happy you want to spend time with me, like, super happy, and I’m happy you’re being more physically affectionate with me, okay?”
Tony nodded before prompting Peter, “But?”
Peter brought a hand to the back of his head again, silent for a few moments. “Would you have still wanted to spend more time with me if you didn’t know I was yours? I’m not disappointing, am I?”
Frankly Tony was taken aback by the questions. He could see small signs of Peter getting more anxious with every moment he took to answer.
“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?”
“Yes, Boss?”
“Could you pull up those receipts for my Florida plans from my email and display ‘em for me?”
Wordlessly the A.I. carried out her creator’s request and several holograms appeared to shine out of Tony’s watch. Peter saw Disneyland, Epcot, and Universal Studios among the fold.
“So,” Tony started, and Peter heard no offense in his tone, “These, which were meant to be a surprise, are all dated about three months ago, scheduled for your Christmas break with four tickets reserved all around for you, May, Pep, and I over the span of two-ish weeks,” Tony made a ‘so-so’ gesture with his other hand. “With an Orlando resort suite booked as well. I can also pull up plans I made several more months ago for your birthday but that would ruin the surprises. I trust that answers your first question.” He turned to Peter who was staring at the holograms with a mix of surprise and relief. “Don’t think for a second I’m not delighted that you’re my son. I think you’re brilliant; you’ve certainly started out a much better person than I ever was. I loved you way before that test, but it would’ve been kinda creepy, you can’t deny, for me to have been as affectionate with a kid I wasn’t related to.”
That finally got Peter to crack a smile, “Yeah, May would’ve probably given you more than a side-eye.” Peter wiped at one of his eyes with his palm, incredibly relieved to have that confirmation. He willingly let Tony pull him into a hug.
“Don’t ever think that you’re a disappointment; I am so, so proud of you, okay?”
Peter just nodded into Tony’s shoulder. A loud rumble filled the room, and Peter felt his face flush as Tony pressed a kiss into his hair. “Come on and help me finish dinner. We’ll see what the spiderling can catch in his web.”
“…Thanks, Dad.”
Tony knew he was grinning like an idiot while giving Peter another squeeze, “No problem, Son.”
As they both got up to go back to the kitchen, Peter spoke up again. “Could I ask you something else?”
“Go ahead, anything,” Tony answered, clapping Peter’s shoulder before picking his knife back up to finish off the tomatoes.
“Could you tell me more about your mom?”
Tony looked up, quizzical but not opposed. “What do you want to know?”
Peter shrugged, while washing and tearing some lettuce. “Anything; I’ve heard about Howard in school but he doesn’t seem like the greatest family man. I don’t really know anything about my grandma.”
Tony let out a fond sigh, “Let’s see…” he started while dropping tomatoes into the lettuce Peter had torn. “Firstly, she’d probably want her grandbaby to call her ‘Nonna’; whenever Howard wasn’t home she’d call me ‘Antonio’ and its pet name variants, and if she’d known you, you would’ve grown up thinking your name was ‘Pietro’. Anyone who knew her knew Maria knew she was proud to be Italian.” Tony considered the boy for a second, “You would’ve been fluent in Italian and Spanish by now if she’d had any say in it, and aced all these Spanish quizzes.”
Peter watched Tony get a cucumber and some carrots from the fridge, and set the carrots to the side before continuing, “She’d have been thrilled you were a band kid, and she would’ve loved hearing you play, and playing duets with you.” The cucumber was chopped and added to the growing salad. “Whenever you learned to toddle she would’ve had you on the bench with her at the piano. She’d sing if the song she was playing had lyrics; I was always falling asleep on the music room’s couch when she’d play.”
The knife was handed off for the carrots so that Tony could start the chicken in its marinade. Peter washed the carrots before carefully trying to peel them. “Was she super domestic or really career driven?” Peter could recognize the look of reminiscence in Tony’s eyes that he’d seen in the mirror’s reflection of his own whenever he thought about Ben.
“Little bit of both; she took care of the behind-the-scenes work of planning Stark Industries’ charity events and parties, and usually gave the resident chef the night off because she liked making dinner at home. Mom made all her pasta and pastries from scratch.”
Tony took the carrots Peter had finished cutting and stuck them in a pan with a splash of water and some butter. Peter watched him take down cinnamon and brown sugar, adding healthy amounts of both once the carrots has started to soften. Peter felt a lopsided grin form on his face, “Would she have been okay with you and I doing our ‘hero’ thing?”
A few silent moments passed before Tony smirked, “Mom would’ve screamed, and she didn’t raise her voice often, but she would because she’d be worried. At the end of the day, though, she’d probably have some heaping plates covered in the fridge and a kind word for our efforts.” Peter nodded, an infectiously adorable grin on his features that reminded and reassured Tony just how much of a child Peter still was.
“I think I would’ve loved her.”
“She would’ve adored you, and spoiled you rotten to boot.” Thinking it might be a bit soon still to reciprocate and ask about Ben Parker, Tony made a mental note to ask in the future; he was eager to know about the man who raised his son.
Sunday morning was spent lazily, as Sunday mornings should be. At Peter’s request F.R.I.D.A.Y. began a playlist of the Star Wars movies while he and Tony tried to figure out how to make muffins. The A.I. had transferred the movies to the TV in Tony’s room, who didn’t care a wit about crumbs getting on the sheets as he and Peter had their breakfast in bed. They had agreed to deliver Peter back to May’s care after dinner, and every so often tore away from their blankets and the different cosmic bodies and planets on the TV to get more snacks or refill drinks. Pepper had called to video chat for the first time that weekend during a transition between movies; she’d asked how things were going, and jokingly asked Peter to forgive his ‘evil future step-mom’ for interrupting his marathon with his father before mentioning that they’d need to schedule him an appointment with a tailor among other reminders for Tony.
Peter had cocked his head to the side after Pepper hung up. “A tailor?” he parroted. Tony took a sip of his drink while nodding.
“Pep and I decided you would make social functions much more bearable, and it’d be better for you to have a selection of suits custom made for you to choose from—if you’d want to go, of course, no pressure.”
“Am I going to be looking like a mini-you? Sunglasses, the works?”
“If I have anything to do with it, absolutely.”
“Cool. Play the next movie, F.R.I.D.A.Y.?”
“Sure thing, Peter.”
It was late when May finally heard a knock at the door; not absurdly so, Peter still had time for any homework he might have needed to finish, but enough that she had long since done the dishes from her dinner and the sun first meeting the horizon. She’d opened the door and quickly tugged Peter into a hug, and complimented how cute the penguin plushies sticking out of his bag were.
Almost immediately Peter began rambling about what he and Tony had been up to since they’d left, and every so often she snuck glances at the proud father looking on from a few paces away.
When Tony announced he should’ve been heading home, May saw Peter’s expression fall. She’d offered the billionaire some coffee before he left, but Tony politely declined. May nodded, before inquiring if Pepper would be back the next day.
“No, Pepper’s going to be away for the week.”
“You should have dinner with us then. You’re family, after all,” May offered. Tony had clearly been flattered if his lopsided smile told her anything before he thanked her and accepted the invitation.
“I’ll pick Peter up from school, and any groceries you might need you can just text me and we’ll pick them up.”
May nodded her assent before announcing she’d be going to her room, leaving Tony and Peter to say their farewells as they would. Peter dropped his bags just inside the door to the apartment before launching himself toward Tony, wrapping his arms around his dad’s middle.
“This weekend was awesome,” he mumbled into Tony’s shoulder. Peter felt a sigh displace some of his hair before a hand cupped the back of his head and another wrapped around his back.
“Anything for my spiderling; get thinking on what you’d like to do on your next weekend with me.” Tony gave the boy another gentle squeeze, “I’ll see you tomorrow, and you can tell me all about your day.” Peter didn’t lessen his hold around Tony’s waist in the slightest, and Tony waited a few moments before prompting a response. “Pete?”
Peter tightened his grasp on Tony for but a moment, and Tony’s ribs were reminders that the boy had enhanced strength. He almost missed Peter’s comment.
“…Love you, Dad.”
The arms around Tony’s middle held fast as he pulled away from Peter’s embrace just enough the cup the teen’s cheeks in his hands. Peter’s round eyes must’ve come from Mary, but his baby boy shared the same shade of brown with him. Oh no, he scolded himself, he was not going to choke up now, not until he was in his car. Tilting Peter’s head up slightly Tony placed a kiss on the boy’s forehead before giving him one last goodbye hug, ruffling Peter’s mess of brown curls as he did. It would be a long day of meetings to wait through until he could see his bouncing baby spider-boy again.
“I love you too, Son.”
( @nxtalia-rxmanova and @demigodwitch22 asked to be tagged, I hope you all enjoyed reading!)