A/N: Guuuuys, I really wish this finale had something for you…other than irondaddy/spiderbaby squishy, sugary, mush, but let's be honest…that's where this all started anyway! (I'lll have to write something angsty and suspenseful next time just to redeem myself.) I want to thank all of you for your sweet and wonderful reviews and for simply reading my work.

Part 3

….

Peter is drenched in sweat by the time he makes it back to the hospital bed around 6:30am, the next morning.

'Don't even think about stepping a toe off of this thing without me or somebody else helping you out,' Tony's last orders still ring perfectly clear in the back of the teenager's mind.

He truly had made every effort to not disobey the man's instruction, but his bladder demanded the exact opposite and it's still much too early to bother anyone with his silly bathroom needs.

He's still ball and chain to the IV they stuck him with the day before and maneuvering and untangling himself from such a simple piece of equipment makes him even more winded.

"Ugh, this sucks," he breathes out, clutching his chest and bringing a knee up onto the mattress.

Footsteps…

He knows exactly who they belong too…

Crapcrapcrapcrap

Chest heaving, he somehow manages to pull himself up the rest of the way, setting his head back down on the pillow and pulling the blankets up to his chest right at the exact moment the door flies open and in walks Mr. Stark.

He knows-He knows- He knows.

"Hey Champ… you're up," the billionaire comments with a smile. Peter's wide eyes follow him as his mentor walks briskly towards the room's many cabinets, taking a sip of the black coffee in his hand.

"Y-yeah…I…uh…ssa-just a bit ago…actually."

Tony stops what he's doing at the stuttered response, setting the mug down on the counter before turning about face.

Peter gulps when dark eyes squint at him, but the casual walk towards the bed is ten times worse.

"Ya having some trouble breathing there, Pete?" Tony asks, hovering over the boy and looking straight down at him.

"I…uh-a little, but it's not that bad-"

"And your hair is sticking to the sides of your face because…..?"

"…because…I…I… just had this really bad dream!"

"Bad dream, huh?"

"Ye-yeah…really, really, bad one."

"Hate those."

"Y-yeah, me too…really…really…hate 'em."

Peter pulls the covers up higher, feeling somewhere between nauseous and panic stricken. The weakness in his body begs to be noticed as well and he almost hopes he'll pass out to escape Tony's piercing gaze.

"Well…..on an entirely different note," his mentor starts, backing away slightly, but maintaining eye contact, "Bruce will be up here in a few minutes."

"Doctor Banner?" Peter asks. "Why?"

"Oh…He's just gonna go over the basics of getting a catheter in you. You know…so you don't have to worry about getting up without assistance anymore."

Tony almost feels remorse when he sees the look on Peter's face. Almost.

"W-w-w-wait! Mr. Stark, wait! I don't need a-I'm not-Don't let him-"

Bruce walks in just then and Peter lets out a scream, blankets flying around as he moves to grip Tony's waist like a life raft.

"No-no-no-no-no, I'm sorry, Mr. Stark! I'll never do it again, I swear! I swear! Please, please, don't let him do it."

Bruce's brow furrows in confusion, wondering why in the heck his patient is looking at him like he's suddenly turned into the other guy.

"Tony, what did you say to the kid?"

"Oh, just what he needed to hear," Tony replies, gripping the back of Peter's neck as the boy stares up at him like a kicked puppy. "…That you're a good doctor and that I'm sure you'll do EVERYTHING in your power to make sure he gets better."

The kid's eyes almost kill him, if he's honest, so he turns to look back at Bruce instead.

"Okay?" his friend replies, scratching at his chin while he glances back and forth between the pair. "I'm just gonna…get another IV going for you, pal."

Tony turns back to Peter; the boy slowly releases his arms from around the man's waist, falling back a bit before glancing back up for an explanation.

"Alright I lied about the catheter. You know, another one of those tough love moments you sorely needed…but, I swear, kiddo, that is exactly what's gonna happen if you keep this up," the billionaire says, paternal instincts spiking when he watches Peter clutch his chest and breathe slowly through his nose. "What part of leftover antifreeze pockets clustered around your heart and lungs wasn't crystal clear to you?"

"Okay, okay, Mr. Stark. I get it; I'll ask you from now on," Peter says, putting out his hand and waving it up in surrender.

Tony dismisses the twinge of disappointment he feels upon hearing the formal name. It shouldn't surprise him at all; the kid would have to warm up to calling him anything different. At the very least, they had established they loved eachother. That was more than he could've ever asked for ….something unimaginable when he was Peter's age.

"You know, you're not too old to spank," he says then, grabbing the boy's airborne fingers and pulling them against his chest.

"Dad…"

Tony tenses up, lips parted with absolutely nothing to say as he stares down at what was steadily becoming his entire world.

"I'm okay," Peter murmurs, squeezing his fingers weakly around the calloused hand that's still holding on to his. "I'm gonna be fine."

'Keep it together, Tony…Keep it together for the love of-'

"Okay, Peter, let's get you set up here," Bruce says suddenly, taking down the empty IV bag and replacing it with another. "Another few days of bed rest and you'll be on your feet again."

Tony takes a deep breath and resets himself, more than a little grateful to his friend for the interruption. This kid's gaining way too much power over his emotions, and if he ever figures this out, it's over. The thought makes him hide a smile, despite it being a giant disadvantage.

As soon as Bruce is done with his work, Tony moves back to the nearby counter, reaching up above to grab a wash basin down from the top shelf. "Don't take this the wrong way, kid, but your hair is screaming for attention," he says as he grabs a white towel and throws it over his shoulder. "-Bruce says you can take a shower in a few days, but I think you'll feel a little more human if we wash your head at least."

Peter rolls his eyes and turns the other way as he sees the basin filling up with hot water. The urge to whine is there, but it will only make him feel more pathetic than he already is. "Man, I hated being treated like a kid…but this baby stuff…I just…"

"'Cannot even'?" Tony interjects, laughing when it makes Peter glare.

"C'mon, count your blessings. Little longer under that frozen lake and we'd be changing your diapers too."

It's said in jest, but Tony shudders inside at just how close he had come to nearly losing his kiddo to something so simple.

Wash basin filled, Tony carries it over and puts it next to the bed, setting a rinsing cup and a travel size bottle of shampoo that he'd been storing in his pocket beside it.

"Earlier, you mentioned you were feeling ashamed because it's me," he says when Peter doesn't reply. "I don't wanna make you feel uncomfortable, kid. If you'd rather have Banner-"

"No," Peter interrupts, shaking his head, "You can do it…I mean, if you really want to…even though it's super embarrassing…and probably a hassle for you,"

"Ugh, the worst," Tony says, pushing a button to lower the bed down flat. "I don't even know why I bother, to be honest…civic duties, I guess."

Peter sniffs and gives a shy smile, fingers fiddling with the blanket threads at his side.

Tony carefully replaces the pillow with the basin, lifting up Peter's head and placing it into the neck rest just above the water before wetting the teen's chestnut tresses. "Too hot?"

"-'s perfect." Peter mumbles, closing his eyes in contentment.

As he feels the cold shampoo hit his scalp, he's suddenly struck with the mere fact that this man…this legend whom he's adored since early childhood…, who once seemed completely out of reach to a poor kid living in Queens, was now washing his greasy hair and threatening to spank him. He can't keep from giggling at such absurdity.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Tony says.

Peter opens his eyes and studies the man's face, grinning from ear to ear, "I was just thinking if someone had told my seven-year old self that Iron Man would be washing my hair for me in the not so distant future, I would've never believed them."

Tony tugs playfully on a few soapy strands and Peter winces but the giggles only grow louder.

"Yeah, well, don't get used to it," he laughs, eyes going wide as he fails miserably at staying serious. "Sheesh, It's already too late, isn't it? I've completely spoiled the Spider-baby."

"Not a baby."

"Are to."

The door opens again and Pepper stands there at the entrance with a tray full of food, head tilted in utter fascination.

"Oh. Hi, Ms. Potts," Peter says, when he catches her out of the corner of his eye.

"Hi, Sweetie," she replies, never once taking her eyes off Tony…because if Tony Stark…thee Tony Stark whom she knows inside and out was truly here, washing this precious boy's hair, well then, she fully expects to look out the window and catch a few pigs fly by, complete with glittery, feathered wings.

Tony prepares for all kinds of different things to come out of his woman's lips as she continues to watch on, but perhaps she's saving them all for later when Peter won't have to be included in her barrage of teases.

"Make sure you feed him too," is all she dares to say, gesturing to the steaming bowl of oatmeal before walking back out into the hall.

He was toast.

'You wanted to go public,'he reminds himself. Pepper's most likely on her way to share her findings with the team right this minute.

Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist?

More like surrogate, protector, mentor, Daddy Warbucks.

He can hear it all now….

As he rinses the last of the soap from Peter's hair, he shrugs it off. This kid was worth it from the very beginning and he'd never put something as fleeting as image in front of his son. He would never stoop to that level. Flashes of his father's grim mask slice their way into his thoughts, but Peter's big yawn rescues him before it can consume his mind and heart.

"Breakfast first, then you're going right back to sleep," he says to the boy.

Peter doesn't even protest as Tony removes the bin and places a towel over his head, rubbing over the teen's scalp until his curls are sticking up every which way. Adorable? That didn't begin to describe what Tony's looking at right now.

Is this what it was to be unabashedly biased?

Was this what possessed all those ridiculous parents to plaster tacky "My Child is an Honor Student" bumper stickers to the back of their minivans? Because what's lying here before him is enough to send the billionaire down to his enormous garage right this second and stick one on each and every vehicle he owns.

Twenty minutes later, the breakfast tray sits empty and Peter struggles to stay upright with stomach full and his body good and ready for another round of rest.

"D-dad?" Peter says as Tony wraps the blankets back over the boy. "Is it really okay…to call you dad? It doesn't like…weird you out or anything?"

Tony grabs the boy's chin and shakes it gently, amused when the kid's pale face turns pink.

"I hate it when you don't call me dad," Tony says with a fake pout, "I thought we went over this yesterday. Do I need to have Bruce check your head again?"

Peter shakes his head as another yawn escapes him. "No, sir," he says through it.

"Good boy," Tony replies, ruffling the teen's damp locks.

"Dad," Peter says again, pink hue brightening, "C-could you a…maybe just stay a little bit longer?"

Tony doesn't hesitate. This kid is starved…absolutely desperate for something he's lacked for most of his life. He knows…he's faced the same starvation. His emaciated soul had begged for nourishment far longer than this child would ever have to endure. He would not deny Peter even another moment of what he needed.

"Scoot," he orders, helping the boy when he tries to lift his sluggish limbs. He's not even fully on the bed before Peter's tucking himself under his chin and burrowing into his black cotton t-shirt. Yep…starved.

He swears right then and there to make up for every bit of lost time.

It doesn't matter how old Peter is or will be; as far as he's concerned, that seven year old boy still trapped beneath the surface is who's really lying here curled up in his arms and if someone wanted to challenge him on spoiling the teenager, he's fully prepared to fight them to the bitter end.

"Pete, ease up just a bit, buddy," Tony chuckles into the kid's hair, taking a few deep breaths when he can breathe again.

"S-sorry," Peter replies, but the billionaire's shushing him even as he says it, "You know I hate that word."

"Sorry."

"Grounded," Tony says, flicking Peter on the forehead.

"Ow!"

"You deserved that."

Peter burrows into him a little more and Tony chuckles. "That's it. Your new nickname is Little Foot," he says, "Please tell me you've seen that movie…Land Before Time?"

Peter's eyebrows knit together and Tony gives a loud sigh.

"Well, I have," Peter says, "…but why am I Little Foot?" He's even more curious as to why Tony's seen such a movie, but he saves the burning question for another time.

"Come on, first five minutes into the movie, those precious little snuggle scenes? That's you, kid." Tony replies.

Peter gives him a playful slap but he can't deny the truth in it, so he hides his face.

As the old movie plays back in his head, he's suddenly reminded of all the emotions he felt as a child watching it for the first time. He had shed great big tears and clutched tightly to Aunt May's sweater as Little Foot begged and begged for his mother to get back up…but she never did.

He doesn't know why he's suddenly curling his fingers tighter into Tony's shirt…can't explain why such a thought would trigger such overwhelming fear into his heart.

"Don't go," Peter whispers, embarrassed when it reaches his mentor's ears.

"Pete, I'm not going anywhere."

"No…I mean…don't ever leave me, dad. You can't-"

"I'm never gonna leave you, bud. You're stuck with me forever,"

"Promise?"

"Promise."

...

A/N: So….I have A LOT of feelings…and I am terrified for Avengers 4….*sobs*

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