Chapter Text
Tony Stark had never wanted kids.
It had been a fact he’d known for as long as he could remember. At first, it had been because he felt claustrophobic just thinking about being tied down to a tiny human for 18+ years. It wasn’t just any tiny human, either. It was a tiny human version of himself. As far as he was aware, nobody wanted that, least of all him. And once he became Iron Man, he knew that his life was far too dangerous to involve a child in. Even if a tiny part of him had wanted to.
It’s for the best, he had told himself. He wasn’t the kind of person you’d want as a father, anyway.
So, no, kids just weren’t a part of Tony Stark’s life plan.
And then he met Peter Parker, and all that went straight out the window.
At first, he’d tried to distance himself from the kid. The second he’d felt his stomach drop and his face go numb as the sight of the teenager getting vaulted across the airport in Germany, he’d known that he was getting way to attached way too quickly. So Tony Stark had done what Tony Stark does best: avoid the issue.
He’d assigned Happy to Peter, knowing that the man would keep the reckless kid as safe. From then on, he’d planned on staying as far away from the teenager as possible.
Attachment to anyone could only mean disaster. The Civil War and Siberia had taught him that.
But then Peter had gotten dropped into a lake. And then he broke a ferry. And then he crashed Tony’s own damn plane and almost died for it.
At that point, Tony decided that the “hands off” approach wasn’t really working for them.
He’d decided that the most obvious fix would be to offer the kid a place in the Avengers. He’d be able to train with, live with, and learn from what was left of the Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. If there was ever any position from which Tony could keep the kid safe, it was with him swaddled right in the center of the Compound. It was, as far as Tony was concerned, the perfect solution.
But then the kid had surprised him, again, and rejected the offer. What kind of teenager wouldn’t agree to join a group of fucking superheroes?
Apparently, the kid that Tony had somehow found himself responsible for. Wonderful.
So Peter had said no, and then his aunt had promptly discovered the true nature of Peter’s… afterschool activities, Tony was forced to scramble up a different plan.
And after being suitably chastised by Peter’s aunt, he’d done just that.
Every other Friday, Happy would pick Peter up from school and bring him back to the Compound. The kid would spend the weekend with Tony, working in the lab, training with Vision and Rhodey, and learning exactly what it means to be a superhero.
Tony spent the hours before Peter arrived that first Friday telling himself, repeatedly, that he would not allow his relationship with Peter be anything more than strictly professional.
And then the kid bounced into the lab, eyes bright and smile wide, and Tony’s heart decided differently.
Just four months later, and Peter had become constant in Tony’s life that he couldn’t imagine losing.
He had decided not to sell the Tower, in the end. If anyone asked, Tony told them that it was a prime real estate spot and so he had chosen to keep it in his back pocket, just in case. In reality, it was so that he would have a place to stay that was closer to the kid.
He spent most of his time there now, and he spent quite a lot of that time with Peter.
When he’d first returned from Siberia, the emptiness of the Tower had haunted him. It was the prime reason he’d originally wanted to sell it. The walls felt vacant where there used to be liveliness, and with Vision at the Compound and Rhodey at a rehab facility, the silence had driven Tony mad. The perfectly polished countertops and the undisturbed couches punched the breath out of him every time he entered a room.
And then Peter had waltzed into his life, and all of that had changed.
Tony had moved back into the Tower, much to Happy and the rest of his staff’s chagrin, and the kid had started coming over in between his biweekly Compound visits. It had been a tentative thing at first, since neither Tony nor Peter was entirely sure where they stood following the ferry incident. After a while, however, the billionaire had become accustomed to F.R.I.D.A.Y. informing him that Peter had crawled through a window and was doing his homework on his couch. If he was out, he’d just call the kid and tell him what ice cream flavor was in the fridge that week. If he was in his lab, he’d wander up and sit with him, occasionally offering help on a difficult math problem or science concept while doing some paperwork.
If you looked around the Tower, there was evidence of Peter even when the kid himself was absent. Pencils stuck between couch cushions, sticky notes littering the coffee table, a permanent stash of apple juice and pickles in the fridge, half finished puzzles or Lego sets on the counters, a beaten up hoodie hanging on the coat rack.
It was nice. It was comforting. It had become Tony’s new, and desperately needed, normal.
Today had evolved like many others. Tony had been sitting in his lab, tinkering with one of Dum-E’s joints, when F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice sounded over the intercom.
“Sir, Peter is here.”
Tony just nodded. “Does he have homework?”
“No, Sir. He wishes for me to inquire if he could spend the night.”
The genius stopped for a moment, pulling a wrench out from between his teeth. “It’s Thursday. Doesn’t the kid have school tomorrow?”
“No, Sir. Tomorrow is a Teacher Work Day.”
“Is his aunt okay with it?”
“Yes, Sir.”
A bright smile split Tony’s face at the prospect of spending his night with Peter. He didn’t let himself analyze the emotion for too long. He never did. “Perfect. Tell him to come down here. He can work on his web fluid while I finish up with this and then we can watch a movie.”
A few minutes later, the whirlwind that was Peter Parker came tumbling into the lab.
“Mister Stark!” Peter greeted, a little breathless. The kid had quit stuttering around Tony months ago, much to the older man’s relief. His wide-eyed excitement and wonder, however, had yet to abate. Tony had come to realize it had less to do with the Stark fame and more to do with Peter’s exuberant personality.
“Hey, Pete.” Tony greeted, forcing his gaze away from the kid and back to the robot in front of him. “Settle down anywhere. I should be done with this soon.”
He wasn’t.
At some point, F.R.I.D.A.Y. ordered pizza and had it delivered to the lab by a wide-eyed intern. Tony took just enough time away from his work to ensure that Peter, who was equally engrossed in tinkering with one of his web shooters, ate something, before returning his attention to the desk.
Hours later, F.R.I.D.A.Y. spoke up once again.
“Sir, I think it may be a good idea to stop for the night.”
Tony started. F.R.I.D.A.Y. almost never interrupted his work. She would occasionally contact Rhodey when he had gone a worrying amount of time without sleep, but it was very rare that should would take it upon herself to stop him.
Then he realized that the AI had set her voice to an unusually low volume setting.
A quick glance behind him revealed why.
Peter was curled up at one of the many work tables. His web shooters were perilously close to tumbling out of his limp grasp. His head was resting on the table, face soft and smoothed in sleep.
“How long has he been out?” Tony asked, matching F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s quiet tone.
“Approximately 43 minutes.”
“What time is it?”
“1:56 AM.”
“Oh.”
“Indeed.”
Tony stood and had to muffle a groan. His back ached at the sudden movement after having spent so long hunched over. He stretched his arms over his head as he made his way over to the sleeping teen.
At first, he planned to just wake the kid up and shove him into an elevator bound for his room. But somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. With a heavy sigh, Tony found himself slipping the web shooters out of Peter’s hands and transferring his head from the hard table to Tony’s shoulder. As soon as he was relatively confident that the kid was still fast asleep, the billionaire scooped the teenager into his arms and headed towards the elevator.
Thankfully, F.R.I.D.A.Y. anticipated his decision and had the doors open with the destination set as soon as he reached it. Tony leaned heavily against the elevator’s guard rail.
“Y’know, Peter,” Tony grumbled, making sure to keep his voice low enough that it wouldn’t disturb the sleeper, “you’re a lot heavier than you look.”
When he’d decided to make a room for Peter in the Tower, he’d put it in his penthouse. There were a series of guest floors underneath it, all of which would have acted as perfectly suitable places for the kid to sleep, but Tony had felt an inexplicable need to keep Peter close to him. At the time, he’d also placed the kid’s room as far away from the elevator as possible. If anyone managed the nearly impossible task of hacking into F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s systems and bypassing the countless security measures that surrounded the Stark Suite, Peter would be the furthest away from their only entry point.
Now, however, Tony cursed the choice.
The kid was heavy.
Okay, in all honestly, Peter really wasn’t. Being Iron Man meant that Tony kept himself fit, and the teenager was skinny. It was more the principle of the thing rather than the actual burden.
He’s not a burden. A small, traitorous part of his mind whispered. He’s never been a burden.
Tony shook the thoughts away as he shouldered Peter’s door open and gently deposited the teenager onto his bed. He took a few moments to tug off the kid’s sneakers, which were threadbare and had Tony planning a shopping trip ASAP, before pulling the sheets up over the sleeping boy’s shoulders.
He let himself have one last glance at Peter before slipping out of the room, imagining for just the briefest of moments if this is what it felt like to be a father.
It wasn’t so bad, really, but Tony found himself unable to imagine feeling this way about anyone else other than the exact kid that was currently drooling on a pillowcase a few feet away.
No, Tony Stark didn’t want kids.
But… he did want Peter Parker.
And hell, if that thought didn’t terrify him.