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Tony gets as far away from Peter’s door as the living quarters in the Compound will allow before making the call. Peter is finally asleep and Tony is determined he stay that way as long as possible. Anything to avoid facing his now family-less world.
It’s two AM in California, but Pepper answers on the second ring.
“Tony?” she asks, in that half-annoyed, half-concerned tone he is very familiar with. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he says, because it’s not the end of the world as she knows it. His entire galaxy is shifting right now, preparing to orbit a new central star, but hers will merely feel the aftershocks. “Maybe,” he adds.
“Do you need me for something?” she yawns.
“I need you to call Ian.”
He hears fabric shifting, the distinctive sound of a lamp clicking on. “I’m going to try to stay level headed and not ask what you did that would require me waking your lawyer up at four in the morning.”
“Thank you, but as usual, you would have every right to ask that.” Tony’s hand is starting to shake around his phone. He scrubs at a smudge on the window with his finger.
Pepper sighs with the air of someone who’s been in this position too many times. “What did you do?”
“It’s more like what I am doing.” And then he can’t stall any longer and the words leak out before he fully thinks them.
“I’m adopting a kid.”
The words sound more real out loud than they do in his head. He swears breathlessly. Pepper echoes it.
“Oh my gosh,” Tony whispers. He collapses sideways into the window and slides down it, smudging it further. “What was I thinking? I can’t... I can’t take a kid in, Pep, I’ll... I’ll hurt him or break him or something. I don’t know how to take care of anyone. I... I’m going to be sick.”
“Tony, calm down,” Pepper says, sounding anything but calm. “Take a breath.”
He does, chokes on it, and spends the next minute coughing into the mouthpiece while he clutches uselessly at the curtains.
“The press will never leave him alone,” Tony continues, his voice thin. He presses his forehead to the cool glass. “Some moron out for revenge will kidnap him and make me watch while he tortures him. Oh, lord, what have I done?”
“Tony, calm. down. You’re freaking yourself out for no reason,” Pepper chides. “Take three deep breaths, right now.”
He follows her, his head swimming as he gulps in air.
“There,” she says decisively. “Now, tell me what’s happening. What kid are you talking about?”
“Peter,” Tony murmurs. “His aunt died. I picked him up from the hospital and... Pep, I can’t just leave him.”
“That poor boy,” Pepper sighs. “He doesn’t have any other family?”
“No. It was just the two of them.” Tony pulls his knees up, leaning his elbows against them as he rubs at his temples.
“Tony... I’m not saying... Listen, if you’re sure about this, I’ll call Ian right now. But... Tony, you can’t just adopt some orphaned kid because he reminds you of you.”
And that was the crux of the matter, wasn’t it? Two orphan boys, both too intelligent and jaded to believe all the consoling lies that the strangers at the funeral utter.
Tony opens his mouth to say “That’s not why I’m doing this,” but all that comes out is a strangled “Why not?”
He won’t let history repeat itself. Not with Peter.
“He needs someone. Just like I needed someone. And there’s no one but me.” His voice sounds stronger than he feels.
“Ok,” Pepper murmurs. “Ok. I’ll call Ian, tell him to find a good custody lawyer.”
“The best,” Tony corrects. He’s still crouched in the corner like a child hiding from monsters, but his heartbeat is steady.
“The best custody lawyer,” Pepper amends.
They both breathe in tense silence for a second.
“Pep, what if this isn’t what he wants? What if he hates me?”
“I can’t think of a single kid that would rather be in a foster home than living with Iron Man, Tony,” Pepper says like it’s obvious.
Tony almost points out that Peter has never been one to follow statistics, but he doesn’t.
Tony spends the next five hours calling funeral homes, the hospital May is at, and the lawyer in charge of her will. Once the sun is finally up, he calls Happy.
“What’s up, Boss?” Happy says, clearly still half asleep.
“I need you to go the Parkers’ apartment, oversee the moving and cleaning crews.” He’s absolutely exhausted, and he knows he’s just getting started. After this call he needs to go back to Peter’s room, so that he’s there when the kid wakes up and remembers what happened.
“They’re moving? Why are they moving?” Happy asks.
“No, Hap... May Parker died yesterday,” Tony sighs. He has a terrible headache. He walks to the kitchen and switches on the coffee maker.
“Where’s the kid?” Happy doesn’t even bother trying to hide his concern. Tony’s lip twitches up. He knew Happy’s annoyance with Peter was just a sham.
“He’s... he’s with me. He’s going to stay with me.”
Happy breathes an audible sigh of relief. “Oh, thank goodness.”
“Don’t you mean, ‘what the crap are you doing taking in a kid?’” Tony says. His tone is joking but he’s completely serious. He’s already decided to keep Peter, and nothing anyone says will convince him otherwise, but he wants someone to be as freaked out at the prospect as he is. He wants someone to doubt his abilities, just so Tony can finally find the gumption to say ‘screw you, I’m going to the best adopted dad ever.’
He backtracks over the word ‘dad’ in his thoughts and changes it to ‘guardian,’ wishing his coffee was done so he could wash down the weird taste in his mouth.
“You’re all he has left, Tony,” Happy says quietly.
“Yeah.” He knows. He can’t seem to forget.
“Have them pack everything, stick it in storage. Pete can go over it... when he’s ready. Bring us all the stuff in his room,” he instructs.
“You got it.” Happy hesitates for a moment. “When’s the funeral?”
“Two days.”
“I’ll be there to pick you both up,” Happy says before ending the call.
Tony needs to get Peter a suit. Or maybe he’ll wear the one from Ben’s funeral and they can burn it after.
The coffee machine beeps and Tony pours a cup, trying to not remember the drive to his mom’s funeral.
Tony wishes he could say that Rhodes didn’t find out about the adoption for a week afterward because he was on some top secret mission and couldn’t be contacted, but in reality, Tony just forgot to tell him. He’s had a few other things to worry about, and it slipped his mind.
So when Rhodey shows up at the Compound six days after Tony picked Peter up at the hospital, Tony’s eyes go wide in alarm.
“Hey, Tones,” Rhodey calls from the entry and Tony flinches. It’s early morning, barely 6:30, and Peter, with any luck, is still asleep.
He peeks into the entryway and waves Rhodey into the kitchen. Rhodes raises an eyebrow but follows.
“Hey, man,” Rhodey tries again as Tony pours him a cup of coffee. He settles at the island bar, his leg braces whirring. “You’ve been quiet this week. I was starting to wonder if you were still alive.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. I’ve had a lot on my plate,” Tony says, leaning against the oven.
“Ross bothering you about the Accords again?”
Tony watches Rhodey stir two sugars into his coffee. “No.”
There must be something in his tone, because Rhodey looks up at him.
“Anything I need to know about, Tony?”
“Probably. You haven’t talked to Pepper this week?” Tony hedged, hoping she had already handled the whole ‘informing your best friend you suddenly have a teenager’ mess.
“No... What’s up?” He asks, his military training taking over. He sits up straighter, his chin raising defensively as he prepares for news of some threat.
Tony fidgets, tugging at his earlobe for a second. Then he takes a deep breath and just says it, cause he needs to get used to saying it.
“I adopted a kid.”
Rhodey blinks. Sets down his coffee.
“A kid, like a-a human kid?” He asks, blinking a lot and reaching up to cover his mouth with one hand.
“No, a baby goat. I wanted a lab assistant and I thought ‘who needs apposable thumbs?’” Tony scoffs, rolling his eyes.
“Alright, alright, I get it, you’re witty, shut up,” Rhodey snaps. “Jeez, Tony.” He closes his eyes and rubs his forehead.
Tony scowls. “I know, alright? I know I’m the worst person in the world for this job, I know I’m not cut out for it. I know.”
Rhodey frowns at him again. “That’s not what I was thinking, Tones,” he says softly. Tony looks away. “But suddenly having a kid to look after is a lot for anyone. And you already have enough on your plate.”
Tony gives him a measured look, then quietly adds, “He’s Spider-Man.”
It’s a good thing Rhodey hadn’t been taking a drink at that moment or he would have dropped the mug.
“Spider-Man is young enough he needs to be adopted?” Tony nods mutely. “Jeez. Tony.”
“Yeah.”
“No wonder you couldn’t let him go into the system,” Rhodey sighs. Tony’s muscles tense suddenly, his eyebrows furrowing.
“I wouldn’t have let him anyway,” he insists. He hopes it’s true.
Rhodey looks at him for a long moment, in that familiar ‘staring into your soul’ kind of way he’d perfected Tony’s sophomore year of MIT. “’Course you wouldn’t have.”
It’s too much faith in him, and suddenly he wishes Rhodey would have laughed. He clears his throat.
“His name’s Peter. If you stick around for a bit I’ll introduce you.”
Rhodey makes a show of settling in for a wait and Tony smiles.
FRIDAY announces that Peter’s awake at ten after seven. Rhodey frowns. “It’s a bit early for a teenager, isn’t it?”
Tony sighs. “He’s been having a hard time sleeping,” he whispers.
“Why are you whispering?” Rhodey says, matching his volume.
“Spidey’s got super-hearing.” Tony offers a crooked smile. He likes being able to show off Peter’s abilities a little, likes having an inner circle of people understand just how special the kid is.
Rhodey nods slowly in impressed understanding.
Tony starts rummaging in the cupboards, fully stocked for the first time ever, pulling down various ingredients for a waffle breakfast.
“Are you cooking?” Rhodey asks in disbelief.
“Well, yeah, he’s got to eat,” Tony says, glancing over his shoulder. Rhodey’s mouth is hanging open in shock. Tony rolls his eyes and starts mixing up batter.
Peter appears in the doorway five minutes later, when Tony has a small stack of waffles built up. Rhodey’s already digging into his own serving.
“Hey, bud,” Tony greets. Rhodey swivels in his chair to see Peter standing there, already fully dressed. He always gets dressed before leaving his room. Tony isn’t sure if he did that at May’s too, or if he doesn’t consider this home enough to walk around in his pajamas.
“Pete, this is my friend, Rhodey,” Tony introduces. Peter offers a polite smile.
“Colonel Rhodes. It’s nice to meet you,” he says quietly. It’s the most words he’s said at one time in days, and Tony blinks in surprise.
“You, too, Peter,” Rhodey says, shaking Peter’s hand. “Come sit by me, kid. Tony’s got breakfast for you.”
Peter looks a little trepidatious, but he takes the stool next to Rhodey and accepts the plate Tony pushes at him with a quiet thanks.
“Tell me about yourself, Peter,” Rhodey says while Peter pours syrup over his waffles. Peter glances at him, then Tony, then fixes his gaze on his breakfast.
“Um, I’m from Queens. I’ll be a junior in high school this year. I like science.” He takes a small bite, chewing like he doesn’t want to be noticed.
“He builds stuff,” Tony says, leaning against the island. Peter catches his eye and doesn’t look away.
“And I like taking pictures,” he adds, staring Tony right in the face.
Tony can feel the smile creeping onto his face before he can stop it. It’s a little of that familiar teenage sass Peter had displayed so easily the first time they met, the merest hint of his spark. Tony didn’t know he liked photography, because he had never asked Peter what he liked to do. He’d just looked him up, extrapolated from the data presented.
Tony ducks his head in a silent promise to do better. Peter looks away, takes another bite.
It feels like progress, even if it’s infinitesimal. Peter eats a waffle and half, and that’s progress too.
Peter comes to him two weeks before school starts.
“If you’re going to tell the press about me, I’d rather it be now than in the middle of school.”
Tony blinks up at him in surprise. They had never talked about what to do with the press, but Peter was smart enough to know that he couldn’t be kept a secret forever. The press would find out, probably soon, and Tony would take heat for lying to the world.
“Ok,” he says. “I’ll schedule the press conference.”
Peter nods. “Do I have to be there?”
Tony considers for a moment, thinks about how the only photos he has with his dad were taken by reporters.
“Do you want to be there?”
Peter shakes his head.
“Ok. Then no.”
“Thank you, Tony,” he says formally, then turns and goes to his room.
Tony wants to call him back, but doesn’t.
He schedules the conference for the next day, has Pepper handle choosing which news agencies get to be there. He spends the night making sure Peter’s internship alibi is so rock solid even he could believe it, takes as much information about Peter off the internet as he can without it seeming suspicious.
He actually writes out what he wants to say, plans on following it to the letter.
The reporters in the press room of the Compound wait with baited breath for his announcement. Tony Stark is famous for earth-shattering press conferences, and he isn’t going to disappoint them today.
After Pepper has introduced him, and reminded the people shoving voice recorders at her that he will only take questions after at least three times, Tony stands.
He reads from the cards in a daze, his lifetime of training in the public eye letting him glide through on memory alone until he reaches the all important sentence.
He hesitates. The cameras flash, the reporters lean on the edge of theirs chairs.
“After the tragic loss of a close friend, I filed for the adoption of her nephew and was approved.”
There is an immediate uproar. Tony takes the opportunity to try catch his breath.
He gives a brief overview of how he knew May Parker and her nephew, why Peter was in her care in the first place. He finishes with a strongly worded reminder that Peter was a minor and that any invasion of his privacy would be meet with reprisal.
And then the questions come. Most of them are about Peter’s private life: where he goes to school, what he does in his spare time, things like that. Tony answers some of them, with others he simply smiles sharply and stares at the reporter who asked until someone else raises their hand.
When someone asks if Peter will become CEO of Stark Industries, Tony says “If he wants to,” without a second thought. The reporters scribble furiously.
“Last question,” Pepper announces after nearly half-an-hour. Tony’s ready to sleep for a week, but he squares his shoulders and calls on the last reporter.
It’s a familiar, middle-aged man from The Washington Post. He stands and smiles at Tony, the wrinkles around his eyes deepening.
“How do you like being a dad, Mr. Stark?”
The air rushes out of Tony’s lungs. It’s the first time anyone has referred to him as a dad.
Peter barely talks to him some days. Peter wakes up crying in the night and Tony has to sit in his room and pretend he doesn’t know. Peter still eats half as much as he used to, he breaks curfew, he gets hurt more often on patrol.
And yet. The other day he brought Tony dinner when he lost track of time in the lab, and when he’d seen what Tony was working on, he’d pulled up a stool and helped, their heads bent together while they talked rapid-fire engineering. And he always asks how Tony’s day was. And his hair sticks up on one side when he comes out for breakfast in the morning.
Tony smiles, feels the crowsfeet at the corners of his eyes deepen to match the reporter’s. “It’s pretty great,” he says honestly.
The fallout from the press conference takes longer than Tony expects to die. To his embarrassment, the picture that led most articles was the one of him smiling as he admits that he’s enjoying fatherhood. Which means there’s absolutely no chance Peter hasn’t seen it, but he never brings it up, so Tony doesn’t either.
Half the reports are just slandering Tony, bringing up every terrible thing from his past to prove why he shouldn’t be allowed to have a kid. It’s the kind of insults Tony has been looking for since day one to give him the determination necessary to commit himself wholeheartedly to Peter’s wellbeing. He always functioned best on spite and caffeine, as Rhodey told him when Tony had graduated two years ahead of schedule just cause someone told him he couldn’t.
The other half are worse, if that’s possible. Instead of attacking Tony, they focus on Peter. They range from calling him the luckiest kid alive for getting adopted by a billionaire superhero, to hypothesizing that Peter was Tony’s biological son, to calling him all sorts of disgusting slurs, insinuating that he was some kind of gold-digger and the ‘adoption’ was only a cover for something else. Tony sues that paper for everything it’s worth, both to shut them up and to prove that he isn’t afraid of a lawsuit.
The buzz of the adoption is still going strong on Peter’s first day of school, but Tony’s threats were enough to dissuade most people. Happy only has to stalk menacingly toward the few paparazzi gathered in front of the school for them to scram. Peter wishes them both a quick goodbye and then scrambles out of the car, his face pale and hands shaking.
Tony gets caught on a phone interview. He keeps an eye on the clock, watching as the end of school creeps closer. He’s still on it when Peter is supposed to be back.
“Not to bring up your colorful past, Tony, but is Child Services aware of your inclination towards alcohol?” the interviewer asks. Tony grits his teeth, rolling his eyes.
“Everyone is familiar with that,” he says. “I assure you, Child Services has determined my home to be a safe environment for a child. They wouldn’t have given me custody if they hadn’t.”
He glances at the clock again. Peter should have been home five minutes ago.
“Do you find the stresses of raising a teenager are making you more inclined to seek relaxation through your old methods?”
“I didn’t realize this was a trial, Ms. Ramirez. But, if you must know, I’m completely on the wagon,” he sighs, not bothering to keep the annoyance out of his tone. “Are we almost done here?”
“Of course, just one last question.” She doesn’t sound very apologetic.
“Alright, what is it?”
“I’m sure you’ve heard the rumor that you adopted Peter as a publicity stunt. Many people are convinced that you two rarely see each other and you leave his care entirely in the hands of hired servants, going so far as to say that you live in separate houses.”
Tony was aware. It was absolutely ridiculous and made his blood boil.
“Is there a question in there?” he asks stiffly.
“My question is this: is this true, or do you actually care about the sixteen-year-old orphan that you’ve taken into your home?”
Tony nearly growls. “Of course I care about him,” he grits out. “He’s my kid.”
And then he hangs up.
Peter still isn’t home.
He calls Happy, only to be assured that Peter was dropped off at the door.
“FRIDAY?” Tony asks.
“Peter is on the ceiling in the hallway,” FRIDAY informs him. Tony leaves his office and sure enough sees Peter’s foot as it disappears around the corner.
“Pete? Come here, kid.”
There’s a long minute where he doesn’t show, and Tony thinks Peter just ignored him, but then Peter’s head pokes into view, his hair hanging down toward the floor.
“What are you doing?” Tony asks.
“Nothing,” Peter says, coming more fully around the corner before letting go and dropping to the floor, twisting at the last minute to land on his feet like a cat.
“Jeez,” Tony wheezes, pressing a hand to his heart in surprise. “Little warning next time, please.”
“Sorry,” Peter mutters.
“Did... did you hear all of that?” Tony asks, waving a hand at his office door descriptively.
“Um. I... I didn’t mean to. I was just coming to tell you I was here,” Peter says. He never calls the Compound ‘home.’
Maybe Tony should scold him for eavesdropping, but he doesn’t know how without sounding like a bad TV dad. So he just doesn’t. “Ok,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets. “How was school?”
There are the faintest traces of tears on Peter’s cheeks when he smiles.
“Good,” he lies.
Tony’s in the living room, pouring over schematics while he sips his coffee. Maggie, killing time while Peter’s at school, is sunning herself in a patch of morning light. Tony stills forgets that she’s there sometimes and jumps when he sees movement in the corner of his eye, earning him an amused stare.
Tony’s phone rings. Maggie jumps, rolling onto her stomach as she watches Tony with her ears back. Tony raises an eyebrow at her, pressing accept without looking at the Caller ID.
“This is Stark,” he answers coolly.
“Tony,” Steve Rogers says on the other end. Tony drops the tablet held loosely in his left hand, his fingers going numb. He pulls the phone a few inches away from his face so he can exhale all of his breath in a great rush.
“Rogers,” he greets once he’s collected himself. He would stand up and pace but he’s not sure he’d stay upright. He presses his knuckles against his sternum and rubs, phantom pain from his arc reactor shooting through his ribs.
Maggie is still looking at him, her head tilted to the side.
“I just wanted to give you a heads up to a situation we’re dealing with in Africa,” Steve says, in his ever familiar ‘Captain America giving orders’ voice. “It shouldn’t reach American borders, but if it does, it won’t be pretty. Thought you’d like to know so you can monitor the outcome.”
“Right,” Tony breathes. “Ok.”
Steve gives him some intel, sat cams to watch and things like that. Tony’s about ready to hang up when Steve says his name again.
“What?”
“We saw the news. About the adoption.” His voice is softer, a familiar hum, and Tony is suddenly back in Avengers Tower, his team sprawled on cushions around him in various stages of sleep, the TV replaying the menu of some movie Cap hadn’t seen before over and over. He and Steve are talking quietly as he nurses half a bottle of warm beer.
He can’t remember what they talked about.
We saw the news.
He blinks away afterimages of the TV screen, of Steve’s shield coming down on his chest.
“Yeah,” he says numbly. Maggie’s next to him now, nudging his knee with her snout. He puts a hand on her head and focuses on her panting breaths.
“We just wanted to tell you congratulations. Nat specifically told me to say ‘Always knew you had a heart after all, Tin Man.’ Her words, not mine.”
Tony shoots to his feet, his jaw clenched. So they were together. Tony had figured as much.
He stays silent. Steve seems to flounder for a moment and then gently asks, “His name is Peter, right?”
Tony wishes now more than ever that he had never done that press conference. Steve saying Peter’s name sends a shiver of protectiveness up his spine.
“Yes,” he grits out, because despite his PTSD and trust issues and abandonment issues and whatever other issues he has, he knows that Steve isn’t the bad guy.
“He’s lucky to have you.”
Tony snaps. “His entire family is dead, how is that lucky? I wish people would stop acting like he won the freaking lottery. He’s just trying to make the best out of the worst situation.” He’s breathing hard, and Maggie is circling his feet in response to agitation, licking at his hand in concern.
Steve is quiet. Tony is ready to hang up again, but Steve speaks before he can. “That’s all happiness is, Tony.”
Tony had forgotten how Steve’s World War II wisdom is so often like a sucker punch.
“I got him a dog,” he says without thinking. Maggie perks her ears up like she knows he’s talking about her.
Steve chuckles and the aggression melts from Tony’s muscles.
“She reminds me of you, a bit. If you were a hundred pound deerhound with the maternal instincts of a grizzly bear.”
Maggie lets out a small ‘woof,’ as if offended by his description. He looks down at her and shrugs.
“Is that so?” Steve asks, and Tony can hear his smile. “Does she help him?”
They’ve only had Maggie for a week, but he’s already seen Peter smile more than the last two months combined. “Yeah. She does.”
“That’s good. Sounds like you guys will be ok.” Tony swallows. He’s not so sure.
“I’ve got to go, Tony. It was... it was good talking to you,” Steve says, sounding hesitant.
“Right,” he agrees mechanically.
“Tell Peter that he’s got the best superhero in the world as his new dad,” Steve says quickly, and then the line goes dead.
Tony won’t tell Peter that, and Steve knows he won’t. That’s not why he said it.
Tony sits back down on the couch, his head swimming. Maggie jumps up to the other cushion and looks at him.
“Let’s not tell Pete about that, ok?” he says. She licks his cheek in answer.
“Ugh,” he groans in disgust, wiping the saliva away with his sleeve. “That’s gross.”
Maggie just offers her best dog grin in response.
Tony has a meeting in Queens that ends an hour and a half before Peter gets out of school. It’s just enough time that he would have to turn around the minute he got home, so he stays in the city. He gets a quick bite to eat, and then mulls over what to do. There’s a light dusting of snow falling, but it’s not too cold out.
He’s near Peter’s old neighborhood. It gets him thinking.
That’s how he ends up buying two bouquets of flowers and making the short drive to the cemetery the Parkers are buried in.
He knows Peter comes at least once a month to visit the graves of his family, but he never asks Tony to go with him. He hasn’t been back since the funeral in July. He still remembers the path to the plot.
May’s name and dates have been added on to the joint headstone she shares with Ben. Mary and Richard are next to them.
Tony swallows, sets the bundle of daisies on May’s grave and a dozen yellow roses on Mary’s. He doesn’t know what flowers she liked, but yellow roses were his Mom’s favorite.
He’s never been one for talking to graves, but he finds himself speaking.
“Hey May,” he says quietly. “And um, Ben. And all of you, I guess.” He scuffs his toe in the dirt of the walkway. “I don’t know if Peter’s told you about me, but um, I’m Tony. I’m... I’m looking after your kid, since you guys can’t be here.”
He swallows again, looks around the deserted graveyard. He feels pretty stupid talking to dirt. But this is Peter’s family. So he continues.
“He’s, uh, he’s doing ok. Better, I mean. He’s still pretty quiet most of the time. And he forgets to call sometimes. But he’s eating more now, and he gets hurt less as... our arachnid friend.” There’s no one around, but he figures better safe than sorry.
“I got him a dog,” he says, smiling a bit. He and May hadn’t been the best of friends, but they chatted often enough to know that May would be rolling her eyes. She’d known of Peter’s love of dogs even more than Tony had, but knew that a New York apartment and a dog didn’t mix well. “Her name’s Maggie. I think she helps him. We tried therapy, but Peter didn’t really take to it. We all know he’s not much of a talker when it comes to personal stuff.”
He’s quiet for a long minute. “I know you can’t actually hear me, ok? But I feel like I need to promise... all of you, that I’m doing everything I can for him. That his happiness is—gosh, it’s the most important thing in the world. And I know I’m not what’s best for him, but I’m trying to be. And that I... I adore this kid.”
He sniffs, checks his watch.
“Anyway, I’ve got to go pick our kid up from school,” he says.
He turns the heater on all the way once he gets to the car, knowing that Peter gets cold. He sits in the line of cars in front of Midtown Tech and thinks about how he said ‘our kid’ without realizing.
The last thing he wants after having his home broken into and being shot with a crossbow is to go on a talk show, but Pepper needs him to do some form of damage control and, well, he has a bad history with press conferences.
It’s just some local news station’s morning show, not some big name television host. He’d called them for the interview, and the poor secretary answering the phone had stammered out a small, “Mr. Stark, are you sure you have the right number?”
He informed her that yes, he was sure, and that he didn’t care how the news that he was alive and well got out, just that it did so people stopped asking.
The station was thrilled, of course, and bent over backwards to accommodate him. It wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be, but he would rather be at home asleep.
The hosts are nervous when the camera starts rolling, and Tony plasters on his million-watt smile.
“Mr. Stark, you’re here to talk with us about the recent home invasion you experienced, which was broadcast throughout the nation only four nights ago. It was clear on the footage that you were injured,” the bubbly blonde starts.
“Yes, I received a small wound to the stomach, but I’m healing up very well,” Tony says, smiling at her reassuringly. She takes a calming breath.
“And Peter was unharmed, correct?”
“Yes, thank heavens.” The thought still makes Tony’s stomach clench in fear.
“How is he handling this? I’m sure it was very scary for him,” the male host asks. He really had tried to remember their names, but it was five in the morning and he was still on painkillers.
“He’s a resilient kid,” Tony assures them. “He’s been more worried about me than anything.”
The woman’s face softens like she thinks that’s cute. Tony takes a sip of the surprisingly good coffee they provided him. He imagines they bought a particularly expensive brand just for today.
“Speaking of Peter, you did something a little atypical and posted a photo of him to your seldom used Instagram account. Can we bring that up?”
A photo appears on the screens behind them, of Peter hugging Maggie as she stands on her back paws. She’s taller than him like that, and her gray fur obscures half of Peter’s face.
“We wanted to thank those that had extended their well wishes to us, and reiterate that we are healthy and happy,” Tony says, smiling as he looks at the picture. It had been Pepper’s idea, and Peter had written the caption for Tony, because his first draft said “Yes, we’re alive. Leave us alone.”
“Now, we all want to know about this gorgeous dog here. She is huge!” The man exclaimed, looking at the picture. “How tall is she when she stands up like that?”
“Well, Pete’s 5’10, and as you can see she’s taller than him. About 6 feet, probably,” Tony speculates pleasantly.
“Wow! Tell us about her,” the woman prompts.
“Her name is Maggie,” Tony informs, rolling his eyes good humoredly. The name still struck him as odd for a dog, but now he couldn’t imagine her as any thing else. “We adopted her from the Humane Society of New York about six months ago. Well, I should say she adopted Peter. It was love at first sight, I think. Which is a fairly common reaction to him, actually.”
He doesn’t catch the implication until the blonde woman raises an eyebrow. “For you as well?” She asks innocently.
Tony keeps his smile fixed. “I first met the kid when he interned for my company. That’d be a strange reaction to an intern, even one as great as Peter. It was a bit more gradual for me,” he says.
He takes another sip of coffee, very aware that he’s just admitted to loving Peter on a news clip that’s bound to circle the globe within the hour.
He thinks of Howard, how he never said he loved Tony even in the privacy of their own home, and suddenly finds that he doesn’t regret it.
The guy gets them back on topic. “You said Maggie adopted Peter. Does she like you as well, or are you just the guy that feeds her?”
Tony laughs. “She’s definitely more of Peter’s dog, especially since he feeds her most of the time, but we get along well. We sort of have a mutual understanding. And besides, we have to kill a lot of time together while Peter’s at school.”
“And we could see that she is very protective. Let’s pull up that famous clip of her tackling the man holding a gun to your head.”
The studio darkens a touch, and the video rolls. Tony has never actually seen it, so he watches in abstract interest, paying close attention to make sure Peter’s heroism wasn’t visible on camera.
The lights come back on, and Tony turns back to the hosts, a small smile on his face. The questions start again. They ask what happened after the camera was destroyed, what the next day or so was like, what’s going to happen to the intruders. Tony answers dutifully, doing his best to keep his energy up.
“Well, thank you very much, Mr. Stark. I’m sure everyone will be very relieved to see you up and about,” the man says.
“Thank you,” Tony responds warmly.
“And we, and certainly the whole country, send our best wishes to your son.”
He thanks them again, and the cameras shut off. He gets through the remaining small talk by rote, eagerly escaping the moment he’s allowed. The drive back home is peaceful, the sky still mostly dark.
When he walks into the living room, he finds Peter on the couch, the TV turned to the local news station. They’d moved on to a cooking segment.
“Hey, kiddo,” Tony says, kicking off his shoes and coming closer. Peter scooches over, jostling Maggie’s sleeping form, leaving enough room for Tony to slouch next to him. “Why’re you up?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” Peter admits, which is a big step forward for them. “Figured I’d watch your interview.”
“What’d you think?” Tony asks, leaning his forehead against Peter’s shoulder. They had only had their big, emotional talk two nights ago, but already Tony can feel their relationship getting closer.
“Pretty good,” Peter hums quietly. “Glad Maggie got some of the recognition as the Best Dog Ever that she deserves.”
Tony grins into Peter’s shoulder blade. He stays like that for a moment, the morning show playing quietly in the background, Maggie’s leg twitching where it rests on Peter’s lap.
“It’s still early if you want to sleep. I can wake you in an hour or so for school,” Tony offers.
“How about you sleep, and I’ll wake you in time to drive me to school,” Peter counters.
“Sounds good to me,” Tony yawns. He resituates, laying his head back against the couch. Peter leans further back into the cushions and leans his head against Tony’s. Maggie snores her familiar wheezing snore. The sun slowly rises, and Tony sleeps.