*Authors Note: Hey all! So first of all, I am super sorry for the huge hiatus there. Basically, school happened, and for me, it's really hard to juggle being a science major in college with my joy for writing. So naturally, I fell off of the face of the earth without a word. Because of this, I made this chapter extra long (10,000 words instead of the usual 6,000); hopefully that will somehow make up for the gap in story making!

As for future updates, I can't give you guys a set schedule. I'm starting a new job this summer, as well as moving in with my partner (it almost sounds like I'm a real adult?), so there's a bunch of unknowns this summer and therefore I won't be able to promise anything. However, I have not given up on this fic, and seek to finish it (hopefully in the next five years XD). Thank you all for reading and sticking by this process. Again, I'm super sorry it was such a long wait. Hopefully this chapter will make up for it!*

Tony woke up that Tuesday morning to a squirming body atop him, knobby elbows and knees jabbing into his ribs. For a moment, he froze up. He was in unfamiliar territory, and that humming noise above him must be a helicopter flying by, and the small body wriggling around must be some new type of torture the Ten Rings were introducing; what could that small body be? Were they trying to torture by small monkey?

But then the groans of "Mr. Tony, Mr. Tony, toast," reminded him that he's only in the guest room, that Peter's Iron Man was not a helicopter flying over Afghanistan desert, and the writhing monkey was only a five year old who, apparently, wanted toast.

The constant moving ceased at the feeling of the older man tensing up, but the weight of the child did not leave. Tony tried to breathe long and deep, attempting to trick Peter into letting him sleep in longer, because Tony was honestly not ready to take care of a child for a full day. Maybe, just maybe, if he pretended he was still sleeping, all his responsibilities would miraculously disappear.

"Mr. Tony, I know you're awake," Peter said, giggling as he pat at Tony's face. The mechanic groaned, eyes fluttering open at being found out. The boy cheered and began wriggling once more, bouncing up and down from where he sat on Tony's chest.

The air was suddenly knocked out of him as Peter got more enthusiastic with using Tony as a bouncy cushion, and large calloused hands shot up to grasp small arms, "Please stop Pete, just woke up. I have a," he yawned before continuing, "heart condition…"

"I want toast!" Peter protested, and evidently the child didn't give two shits about the man's weak heart if it meant he wasn't going to be getting toast. His grip on Peter stopped the boy from bouncing however, so at least that was a plus.

"'Kay, toast, I know, stop screamin'," Tony protested, turning his head on his pillow to glance at the clock positioned on his side table and jesus fucking christ it was six thirty in the morning, "God, why did ya wake me up so early?"

"Mr. Steve always wakes me up now," Peter informed him, confusion written on his face as if he didn't know normal people did not wake up at the ass crack of dawn. Tony had to get this kid away from Steve Rogers; the Captain was restricting the boy from getting a good sleep-in, teaching him horrible Captain America morals. A sudden nightmare-causing image flitted through Tony's mind: a future Peter, getting up early every morning to go on a morning run like his dear old pop, not knowing any better. An oblivious Peter, who had been raised on healthy eating habits and daily exercising. Tony shivered at such a horrifying image, knowing the idea would haunt him for many nightmares to come.

"Yeah, okay, but Cap has an unusual sleep schedule that most people don't follow. Because unlike Cap, we're sane," Tony grumbled, sitting up in the bed and causing Peter to crawl off of his body. Truthfully, the genius had no right to talk bad about sleeping schedules. Yes, the Captain got up early, but he also went to sleep early as well. Tony didn't 'go to sleep'. 'Passing out' was a far more accurate phrase.

"Toast? Please?" Peter pleaded, pulling the man out of his musings. And Tony really wanted to say no, because the bed was comfortable and taking care of the child was something he was not qualified for. If social workers caught wind of the Avengers leaving young, impressionable Peter Parker with notorious ex-playboy Tony Stark, they would all collectively have an aneurysm. And even though Tony had stated, several times he might add, that he was done with that lifestyle in front of heaps of reporters, it didn't seem to make a difference. He would still be seen as the man from his party days.

That being said, he wouldn't trust himself with a kid either. In fact, he was sure he was having an aneurysm right alongside the social workers, because taking care of a child was too much for his weak heart to handle. He would have gladly passed the torch to literally anyone. He trusted the homeless hippy that lived in the alleyway a few blocks down and only ate prunes more than himself when it came to child care.

But Tony was the only available adult unit left in the tower, and the child needed to be fed, no matter how badly Tony wanted to ignore it.

"Yes, yes, toast. Coming right up," he conceded with a sigh, bare feet meeting the guest room carpet as he sat on the edge of the bed. Peter squealed in delight, scrambling off the bed and sprinting out of the room, running feet thumping down the hall towards the kitchen. Tony followed behind the boy, albeit much slower and without an abundant amount of energy.

He paused to throw on a large shirt from one of the wooden drawers. He had no clue as to who's shirt it was; the guest room was a bed for the people that were too tired to make it up to their respective floors. Clothes were left behind all the time, and the next user of the guest room was allowed to borrow said clothes if need be. This rule had been implicitly made after Tony had a romp in the guest room, he and his partner having been too hot and bothered to make it up to his own floor. That morning, he had walked out into the living room with no clothes on, to the horror of the team enjoying their morning. From then on, the dressers were full of mismatched clothing items for all sizes, not-so-subtly urging Tony to leave his birthday suit for the bedroom.

And he really didn't have much of an issue with this new rule. Having clothes to walk out with meant he wouldn't have to walk bare into the chilly, colder-than-Peter's-boner-water air. And if it meant Tony could snatch up a white SSR shirt that was much too large on him and not get an odd look, well. That was just a small bonus.

By the time he reached the communal area, Peter had already pulled out his toys from the toy box to play with, obviously attempting patience as he waited for the older man to make his breakfast. Tony tried not to linger on the compromising position Scooby-Doo and Godzilla were placed in, even though Peter insisted they were "only fighting".

"JARVIS, coffee please. The usual," Tony requested, pulling the sandwich bread out of the fridge as he did so.

"Of course, Sir," the AI responded, the coffee maker chirping and whirring in what was probably a 'good morning' of sorts. It was one of Tony's latest creations, adding an AI to the coffee machine. So far, things had gone well. This was, of course, not counting the one time the poor machine had started stress-making cold coffee, traumatized by a loud argument between Clint and Tony a few feet away.

Removing the twist-tie from the sandwich bag, he pulled out a single slice of bread. It reminded him of when he was a child, watching Jarvis do the same with a small Tony insisting that all crusts be cut off in the background. Jarvis had done what the young Stark had requested without question, and those mornings were some of the few moments in his childhood where he had felt listened to.

"Pete, do you like your crusts on your bread?" Tony asked, the coffee maker gurgling happily in the background.

"Cut them off, please!" Peter called back from the living room floor, voice floating from the space obstructed by the sofa. Tony grinned to himself, taking some odd happiness in having to perform the same duty Jarvis had executed all those years ago.

The mechanic cut the edges off of the bread before finally placing it in the toaster. The red toaster beeped in delight, the piece of food disappearing into the slot as the appliance started the toasting process. And maybe the team didn't approve of the AI appliances, especially when it didn't toast Clint's beloved english muffins. But they had grown on Tony, as most things he built did. It didn't hurt that the buzzes and beeps of the appliances made them personable. He could especially relate to the cold coffee stress-making.

Tony's mind wandered as he leaned on the counter, staring at the empty space at the dining table on the other side of the kitchen. He had so much to do today. He had been slacking slightly on his Stark Industries responsibilities ever since Peter had become apart of the tower life. And not because he was parenting (which was not happening because he was not a parent), but safety measures and tiny flying suits had suddenly become much more important than any new version of the Starkpad or the SI smartphone. He had been ignoring Pepper as of late, pretending he wasn't seeing the frantic emails that his CEO kept sending him. He knew they were all about the new models, all about how many meetings he had missed. And he definitely knew that emails were most certainly not about her first date with Happy, even though Tony had said he was okay with it. Granted, most of the time when Tony said something was 'okay', it most certainly was not, so the new couple were right to be weary.

His brain was swimming with work, figuring out his plans for the day, until a child's disturbingly accurate sounds of play gunfire interrupted his train of thought. He realized exactly then what the full extent of Peter's existence in his every waking moment truly meant.

Oh god, he wasn't going to be able to get down to the workshop today, was he? Pepper was going to murder him.

"Hey Pete? What do you and Mr. Steve do on Tuesdays?" Tony asked, checking the goat themed calendar magnetized to the fridge to ensure that it was, indeed, Tuesday. The toaster beeped happily, the toast springing up from the slot Tony had placed it in. He pulled the food out of the toaster and set it on a plastic plate, thanking the appliance as he did so.

"Mr. Steve takes me to the park!" Peter exclaimed. This was quickly followed by the sound of plastic toy colliding with plastic toy; there must have been an epic battle going on.

Great. The park. Now Tony knew he wasn't going to be getting any work done. The R&D department was not going to be happy. Not that Tony had ever been affected by the glares the board gave him, but it always made him uncomfortable when someone expected him to care about something that he didn't.

Grabbing the butter out of the fridge and a knife from one of the kitchen drawers, he prepared Peter's toast with an inexperienced hand. It was toasty enough to be crunchy, which was a good sign. But the butter was melting in pools, and maybe butter pools was what Peter liked?

"Toast is ready, Pete," Tony announced to the unseen figure, who popped into view and dashed to the dining table at the mention of breakfast. He set the plate of buttered toast at the boy's seat. He watched as Peter picked up his toast, nervous that Peter wouldn't like it. He didn't want to see the look on the boy's face when he figured out that Tony was a sub-par adult, unfit to give Peter what he needs. Tony hastily turned to the coffee machine, too inexplicably nervous to watch the recognizable look of disappointment settle on Pete's face. The genius watched the last few drops of brown liquid fall into the pot, trying not to listen for cries of disgust.

"Mr. Tony," Peter whined, dread plummeting deep in Tony's stomach, "There's too much butter."

Tony gazed up at the ceiling, not sure whether he was asking JARVIS (or maybe a Norse god?) to spite him for messing up something as simple as buttered fucking toast. He did not have enough coffee in his system to deal with his own incompetence this early in the morning.

Desperately, his brain scrambled to find some solution to his error, because his legacy as a reluctant parental figure was not going to be butter-soaked breakfast.

In a stroke of genius, Tony victoriously grabbed a paper towel, walking over to where Peter sat. He took the towel and dabbed at the toast, Peter's brown eyes widening in absolute horror as the man did so, "Mr. Tony! What are you doing?!"

"I'm taking away some butter. See?" Tony explained, pulling the now soiled paper towel away to reveal a slightly less buttery piece of toast. Peter did not look amused, "There's less butter now. So, eat. Get that toast in your rumbly stomach."

"No," Peter protested, crossing his arms with a determined pout to his lips. And Tony, for the life of him, could not understand why 'no', because the toast looked perfectly fine. The butter pools were now gone, surely Peter could eat the toast.

"What do you mean 'no'? I thought you liked buttered toast?"

"You put paper towel on it! Now it's going to taste like paper towel!" Peter argued, squinting at Tony as if this was obvious physics; as if transferring taste between objects by touch was as real as gravity or Newton's Laws.

"No it's not," Tony tried to assure the boy, but Peter was having none of it.

"Is to!"

Tony sighed, running a hand through his sleep-mussed hair. He was tired, and he hadn't gotten his coffee yet. Arguing with a five year old was the last thing he wanted to do at the moment.

For a brief second, he considered calling Bruce. Tony didn't know a quarter of what Bruce knew on how to take care of a child; Peter's chance of injury would marginally decrease if Dr. Banner was there instead. But Tony was a Stark man, and Stark men were made of iron, and if a five year old could best the man behind the Iron Man suit, it would be high time to retire. He would be left alone to tinker with old cars, ridicule DUM-E, and mourn the good ol' days. And although there were worse things than a lonely retirement, Tony wasn't quite ready to accept this fate. He could not call Bruce Banner.

"Okay. Okay. I ruined the toast even more. Fine. What do you want instead?" Tony asked, taking the paper plate from Peter and setting it on the counter next to the coffee machine. He tried not to let the annoyance seep into his tone, because being a picky eater was nothing to be ashamed of, and getting angry at the kid because he didn't want 'paper towel toast' sounded like a waste of time.

"Uncle Thor's Poptarts!" Peter exclaimed, and Tony had a suspicion that Peter would have refused the toast no matter how much butter was on it, because the boy hadn't had an ounce of hesitation before answering. And Tony knew that if Cap had been there, Rogers would have said no and then proceeded to suggest an apple instead. But Tony didn't feel like forcing healthy things onto the small boy; he felt like giving Peter an actual happy, maybe-not-incredibly-healthy-because-of-it, life. And if he got into Pete's good graces by allowing him to have some sugar in the morning, it was no skin off of Tony's back. He was willing to allow such a sugar-filled breakfast as long as the boy would forget the butter soaked toast.

Tony grabbed a Poptart pack out of the brown sugar box, which was Thor's favorite flavor based on all the raving the Asgardian did about it. Sometimes, the mechanic suspected Thor only came back to Earth for the Poptarts, and not for his friends who lived on it.

Peter rushed back to his toys as the Poptarts were placed in the toaster. The beep the toaster made sounded annoyed, as if it didn't know why it had to cook something else when the bread had been toasted perfectly.

"Sorry little dude," Tony mumbled to the hot-rod red appliance. He then turned to the coffee maker, which had been patiently waiting for him to collect his coffee. He thanked the machine, pouring himself a mug full and sighing when the caffeine burned a hot trail over his tongue and down his throat.

He knew he had to call Pepper. But he had been avoiding doing such for as long as he possibly could. Because, well. She hadn't a clue of the reason he had been so radio silent. And he had a suspicion Pepper wouldn't react too casually to the idea of Tony Stark taking care of a small human. But not telling her that he was basically 3 days behind on his work would throw her off her schedule, and she would be consequently livid. Tony did not need a livid Pepper when he had a five year old to take care of.

"JARVIS, call Pepper, will you?" he requested as he took another sip of his coffee, the caffeine not kicking in nearly as fast he wanted it to be. Tony sat down on one of the bar-stools surrounding the pink granite island, feet resting on the last rung, not quite tall enough to touch the tile floor.

"Calling Ms. Potts," JARVIS announced from somewhere above Tony's messy brown head. The sounds of plastic toys smashing into each other acted as an on-hold telephone music of sorts, filling the communal floor with silence before the CEO of Stark industries graced the room with the all too familiar tone of frustration.

"Tony! Why haven't you answered any of my emails? I've been trying to contact you-" Pepper Potts began, and wow, it suddenly felt like he could breathe easier, despite the frantic tone. Pepper had always been able to calm him down, to ease him with her familiar worry-filled words. And after such a long time without talking, having been too preoccupied with Peter and the team, her voice was like crawling back into a warm bed after weeks of business travels. Tony hadn't noticed how much he had missed Pepper Potts. Sometimes, he conveniently forgot how much he loved having her in his life. The therapist thought this had something to do with not wanting to give himself good things. Tony just called it 'being busy'.

"Pepper, honey, nobody uses email anymore. That's only for 'Bed, Bath, and Beyond' newsletters or porn blog updates, which by the way I honestly don't know why I keep getting, because I unsubscribed forever ago-"

Pepper sighed deeply from the other end of the line, and for someone who didn't know Pepper, they would have assumed she was extremely angry. But having known Pepper for so long, Tony knew she was smiling alongside her eye rolling and exasperated exhaling. He allowed himself a small grin as he gazed into the coffee mug.

"Tony, I really don't need to hear about this again. What you subscribe to on your off time is not my business-"

"You mean unsubscribe from, Pep. Unsubscribe. I don't need porn when I have superheros working out in my gym," Tony pointed out, thinking of one superhero in particular. And he really shouldn't have said that, because Pepper Potts was not dumb. He had been caught by his CEO giving Cap's retreating form the 'I'm not looking but I totally am' on numerous occasions. And no matter how many times he had tried to deny her accusations of glancing at that American ass, she was sure on what she had seen; Pepper knew what Tony Stark looked like when he was checking people out.

Consequently, she was the only person that knew about his painful pining of the one and only Captain America.

"Funny you should bring up superheroes, because you answer Steve Rogers' emails whenever he sends you one," Pepper retaliated, smugness dripping through her voice from the speakers in the ceiling. Damn her.

"The "Star Spangled Man with a Plan' is trying his best, I've already told you. I'm only trying to meet him in the middle which, by the way, I am doing because that's one of the things you complained I wasn't doing. The fact that he's stopped ending his emails with "I eagerly await your letter" is progress," Tony protested, because he was not about to let Pepper use Cap to make a point about ignoring her many messages.

"Oh, meeting him in the middle? How's that worked out for you so far?"

"I dunno, how'd your first date with my head of security go?" Tony shot back, teasing without an intent to hurt. But suddenly, the mood shifted over the phone. And wasn't he just great at shifting the mood? Going too far was something he was an expert at; one of the very many things that eventually pushed Pepper away. And sure, maybe that had been a bit too harsh to say. Meeting in the middle had been a sore subject when it came to their relationship. It had been a major reason why Pepper slept on the couch most nights towards the end of their relationship; why they had such loud arguments when Tony came home late in an Iron Man suit with scorch marks.

Silence followed his unfiltered comment, and if he listened closely enough, he swore he could hear her sigh, which she had probably tried to cover with the palm of her hand to the receiver.

"Tony…" Pepper muttered quietly when the silence came too close to the line of 'blatantly awkward.' There was something just shy of mournful in her tone, and it unsettled him.

Tony was getting ready to crack some joke, to somehow release the tension in the air. Tension that, frankly, didn't need to be there, because Tony was over Pepper and was 'happy for Happy.' But before he could decide on which joke would ease the tension best, a voice floated in from the living room.

"Mr. Tony, what's a porn blog?"

He froze in fear. Oh shit. He had totally forgotten all about the 5 year old, only a room over.

"Tony? Tony, what was that?" Pepper interrogated, something akin to anxiety in her tone. Tony could almost see her leaning forward on her desk by her elbows, ankles crossing and ungodly high heels clicking together. Her perfect eyebrows were probably raised in the particular way that she reserved for Tony's many questionable decisions. The same expression had become known worldwide, when some photographer had been able to capture the moment Pepper realized Tony Stark was getting in a race car to 'recklessly drive fast' in the streets of Milan.

"Um, well, you see-" he tried, his voice feeble and quickly tapering off as Pepper quickly interrupted him.

"Is that a child? Tony Stark, do you have a CHILD?" Pepper's voice shrieked, and he had totally planned on not telling her about Peter. He had known she was going to react like this, had known she would immediately dive into all the reasons why this 'wasn't a good idea.' Although he agreed with her, Tony did not want to hear about all the ways she thought he was incapable; he didn't need to hear all of the things he kept telling himself.

"He's not mine!" Tony shot back, and it was imperative that Pepper know this, because although he had made many mistakes in his lifetime, accidentally creating a small human had gladly not been one of them.

"He's not- did you kidnap a child? Oh god I need to call Happy-" he could hear desk drawers opening and slamming shut, possibly looking for a Starkpad to contact her new lover with.

"What the hell, Pep? No, of course I did not kidnap a goddamn child! I'm only taking care of him because Cap is out on a mission, and for some reason, he trusts me with the kid!" Tony looked over to Peter at that moment, wondering if their loud conversation was possibly bothering the boy. However, he simply looked content. This could easily have been because there were Poptarts waiting in the toaster for him.

There was a gasp from Pepper's end, the noisy scrambling ceasing in the background as she locked on to what Tony had implied, "Steve? The Steve Rogers? As in Captain America? He thought it would be a good idea to leave you alone with a child?"

"Unless you know a different Captain America, then yes," Tony grumbled in response, taking another swig of coffee and deliberately ignoring her last question, "Cap insists on pushing his parental responsibilities onto me whenever he can. If I didn't know any better, I'd think he's roping me into a non-consensual parenthood," but of course, he did know better. He knew that Cap didn't see Tony in such a way that he'd want to 'co-parent' with him. Hell, Tony wasn't even sure the super-soldier knew gay parenting was basically accepted nowadays.

"What do you mean, his parental responsibilities?" Pepper questioned, hysteria slowly beginning to seep through her tone, "Why does Steve have parental responsibilities? Are you telling me Steve is a father?"

"No, no, trust me, Captain America is still very much a blushing virgin," Tony chuckled, restraining himself from adding that he would be happy to change this fact.

Knowing what she was probably thinking, knowing what conclusions she was coming to, Tony told Pepper all about how Captain Rogers had stumbled upon a newly orphaned child and had somehow thought it a great idea to take him home. He left out the details about the panic attacks and the general difficulty he had with being around Peter. But Pepper knew him well enough; she probably knew what Tony was going through without him saying.

"So you see, that's why I was calling you," Tony explained, wrapping up the past few weeks, "I'm taking care of Peter today, so I'm not going to be able to get any work done," he had pulled out Peter's Poptart during the story, the boy now sitting at the dining table a few meters away from the granite island, eating his Poptart with ravenous content. Tony knew he was going to regret giving the five year old a sugary breakfast later on, but the idea that Peter had been eating nothing but healthy apples and granola bars in his stay at the tower made any sugar rush more than worth it.

There was a pause from the other end of the phone; a deadly silence in which the world ceased to turn. Pepper hadn't spoken once throughout all of his explaining, and without talking to her face, he couldn't measure whether she was beyond pissed or cautiously indifferent. Tony waited with held breath, sitting stiffly on the bar-stool and staring down at the sparkling granite. His coffee rested on the counter next to the toaster behind him, having been forgotten in the bustle of Poptart preparing and conversing with his ex. The mug looked too lonely, and Tony really wanted to get up and grab it, giving him something to focus while he waited for Pepper to berate him or begrudgingly allow his procrastination. But he felt frozen in the moment, and moving out of his seat felt like an impossible thing in that moment.

The silence was finally broken by a long sigh, full of unhinged frustration. Tony grimaced in his luck. Berating it was.

"Tony, you can't put off your work today. I needed the new models for the Stark smartphone line three days ago. R&D is expecting a prototype; capable and functional. Please tell me you at least have the sketches," and damn if Pepper didn't sound completely done with the whole of Tony's existence. He couldn't necessarily blame her, she was CEO of a company where the inventor liked to create in sporadic outbursts. Therapists had concluded it was his way of distracting himself from emotions that his brain decided were better left in the subconscious. They had seemed very serious when they had told Tony as such, but quite honestly, his brain filing away unwanted emotions didn't really sound like a bad thing.

"I have time," Tony replied, avoiding Pepper's question because he in fact did not have a single sketch done, "I'll be able to whip it all up before the meeting in a couple of weeks-"

"The meeting is tomorrow," the woman deadpanned.

He sucked in a sharp breath through his clenched teeth. That didn't make sense at all, there was no plausible way he had lost his sense of time that much. Tony racked his brain, distinctly remembering he had set multiple alarms to remind him, fully knowing that he would forget.

"JARVIS, I had reminders in place, didn't I? Why didn't you tell me?" Tony spat, stress folding on itself and settling back on his shoulders. It was a heavy, familiar feeling, and not at all welcome. Something in the back of his mind supplied that this stress had not rested on his shoulders since spending all of his time taking care of Peter Parker, but Tony quickly ignored this.

"I did on numerous occasions, Sir. You insisted on muting the reminders with every attempt I made," Tony grumbled at this, JARVIS continuing to talk over Tony's unintelligent mumbles, "May I also comment that Sir's habit of projecting fault onto my software is considered unhealthy?"

"Go to hell, JARVIS," Tony barked, not needing the sass from his AI that he had lovingly installed.

"Sir," the AI curtly responded. Another sigh could be heard from Pepper as the conversation with JARVIS ended. Tony glanced over at Peter, who was still happily chewing at his Poptart. The kid seemed to be completely unaware of the predicament happening, his world having become zeroed in on the sugary breakfast, looking at the pastry as if it was his long-time lover.

"Tony, have you considered finding a babysitter?" Pepper asked through the speakers in the kitchen, "I'm sure someone will be available to watch over Peter while you work."

"Pep, honey, you're killing me here. I already told you, this is why I'm calling you in the first place. There isn't anybody here. I'm alone. With a child," and simply just saying such a thing brought shivers of fear down his spine. Tony was still trying is hardest to deny the reality that despite learning jack shit about parenting, the life of a child was in his calloused hands.

"Maybe call one of your teammates?" Pepper suggested, "I'm sure Bruce would understand. And he's got a soft spot for kids."

Tony sighed, "It's as if you assume I haven't already thought about calling him. Which is out of the question because I am not about to get in the way of whatever is going on with that lady friend of his that he's visiting."

"You mean Betty?" the abrupt excitement in Pepper's voice was obvious, no matter how hard she attempted to conceal it. Apparently, 'Betty' and Bruce was something to get excited about. And damn her because somehow, she always knew the latest scoop about every Avenger, as if they all went to her as their resident superhero therapist.

"Who's 'Betty'? He only mentioned meeting up with someone as he was leaving," Tony glared at the hidden cameras he knew were placed in the room, seeing as how he had done the placing, "Are you spying on us, Ms. Potts?"

"People just find a friendly confidant in me, is that so hard to believe?"

Tony mocked her, humming unsurely, as if he didn't always come running to Pepper when anything happened; as if he didn't know she was a good listener.

"You're full of crap, Tony. Call Bruce. You have to be at tomorrow's meeting with everything prepared, no exceptions. Make sure to get some sleep tonight," he knew that if he could see her face right now, she'd have a gentle smile playing on her lips, full of sympathy and care. This was the smile she usually had right before she gave him one of her light, barely there hugs that always made him feel like he was made of glass.

"Yeah, sure," Tony responded with a lazy wave of his hand to the empty air, as if Pepper could see it, "See you tomorrow."

The familiar click of Pepper hanging up was the response he got, and once again, he was alone with the five year-old child. Those big brown eyes blinked owlishly at Tony from his seat at the table, Poptart devoured without a crumb on his plate. A living human vacuum. Pete's mouth, when it came into contact with any sugar or pizza, could have been classified as the world's eighth wonder.

"Let's not mention 'porn blogs' to Mr. Steve, okay?"

"Okay!" Pete exclaimed, the widest smile Tony had ever seen forming on the boy's face, as if this was the most exhilarating thing he could agree to.

Once breakfast had been successfully achieved, the next step of the day was the park. A step that, at first, Tony thought could be put off until later in the afternoon so he could start working on the smartphone prototype. However, he was soon proven that, no, the trip to the park had to happen right then because apparently, Pete and Poptarts did not mix well.

"You're a monster, you know that?" Tony grunted as he tried to grab hold of Pete's flailing right leg, shoeless and soon to be sockless too, by the looks of it. How Tony had managed to put on the left shoe was a mystery.

"Monster, monster!" Peter screamed, sending his sock flying with a particularly strong kick to where the bearded man's face had been before he ducked. And damn it if Tony wasn't losing his cool, because machines never acted this way and it had taken seven fucking minutes to get that one sock on his tiny elusive feet and now he was getting aimed kicks to the face and of course Howard's wonderful parenting would automatically take over before Tony could think.

"Peter Parker!" and oh no, he had used the tone his dad would use; that deep, ground shaking tamber that lodged fear right in every throat of the children who heard it.

Peter's legs immediately went still, but the fear in his wide eyes was nowhere near worth the abrupt cooperation. Tony could see every moment of his childhood, such as a duck from a drunken fist, reflected in Peter's eyes; could see the pain Tony had felt when he would receive double the force of the second swing for ducking from the first.

Shoes and socks were quickly forgotten.

"Peter, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have yelled like that. Did I scare you?" Tony apologized, resting his hands on his knees instead of placing them on the boy, not wanting to scare him. He knew better than anyone how one comforting hand coming towards him could bring back memories. And Tony really hoped there weren't any memories to bring up for Peter, but he wasn't going to take his chances.

Peter responded with a quick and precise nod, large brown eyes still locked onto Tony as if in defense mode, watching the man's every move and assessing whether he was in danger. The older man's heart sank to the floor.

"I'm sorry buddy, I'm not angry with you. Dammit, Rogers should have never left me with you, I knew I'd only become another Howard-," and obviously, Tony had not meant, nor wanted, Peter to hear these words. The mechanic was still under the impression that the boy's hearing was selective like a machine, only hearing the things Tony wanted it to hear. Unfortunately enough, Peter was a human.

"What's a Howard?" Peter asked, voice hushed as if he were too afraid to give the man a reason to get angry. It was a scared tone, an anxious one; the same tone that Tony had used with Edwin Jarvis, asking questions about why Dad had been mad while the butler was bandaging him up.

For a second, Tony had to fight the urge to snap. The sudden need to get angry, to scare the boy off from ever asking about Howard again. It was the automatic response to anyone when they asked about his dad. But then, that's exactly what his father would have done. What his father had taught Tony to do. And although off-putting, adults knew how to interpret Tony's harsh words as his defensive nature. But a child knew no difference. There was no way in hell he was about to discourage Peter from asking questions.

"A… Uh. Hm," Tony dug his fingernails into his knees, thinking about all the words he could use to describe what "a Howard" was. Most were inappropriate for the current audience.

"Howard was my dad," was the only thing that could come out of his mouth. Really, it was the only thing Tony could say that wouldn't earn him a disappointed frown from the Captain, if the man was there. But then again, if Cap were there, Tony wouldn't be talking to the five year old or getting ready to take him to the park.

"Did he teach you to be angry?" and fuck, this kid was getting to the bottom of this faster than Rogers or Bruce or any therapist ever had. Peter blinked up at the older man, whose face had gone cold and guarded, staring back at the child as if he had been asked something as simple as 'do you like apples?' Peter must have sensed he had done something wrong, because next thing Tony knew, the tiny body wriggled into his lap, the back of his head resting up against the arc reactor. The movement shocked Tony out of his dark thoughts, and the man looked down to see Peter looking right back up at him, an awed look on his face as if he hadn't known the bearded man would look upside down at this angle. His tiny hand was holding the sock he had flung almost minutes before, offering it to Tony.

Tony took the sock and gently placed it back on Pete's foot, chin lightly resting against the top of the boy's fluffy head as he reached around the child in his lap, "Uh. Yeah, he taught me how to be angry. Howard taught me a lot of things. Best to save that story for another day."

Peter didn't speak for a second after that, a thoughtful look on his face as he surveyed the living room. It was almost comical, those tiny eyebrows slightly furrowed with a barely-there frown. Such a Steve expression.

Tony cursed his fluttering (albeit weak) heart at the thought of 'Steve'.

"Daddy is my favorite dad," Peter declared into the room, causing Tony to pause wiggling the other tiny velcro light-up Avengers shoe onto the boy's foot, "I love him very much."

Tony had almost forgotten he and the boy were part of the very exclusive 'my parents died to mysterious accidents' club. His heart sunk at the fact that maybe the boy was still waiting for his dad to come home, waiting for that plane that would never come back to land.

"Do you… miss your dad, Pete?" and he really had to tread lightly here, because he wasn't sure how aware children Peter's age were understanding of death and the permanence of it all. Tony had had the misfortune of being completely aware of what death meant, when his parents had bit the dust. More aware than he would have liked to have been, seeing as how his habit of excessive drinking had started then. A habit he was still trying to kick to the curb.

"I miss Daddy all the time. But he's coming back, he promised," Peter declared, determination so ingrained in his conviction, Tony didn't have the heart to tell the boy that Dad wasn't coming back, no matter how much Peter had loved him.

"You're a strong, brave monster," Tony said with more emotion than he had intended. But Peter grinned happily at that, kicking the air with his now shoe-covered feet with a delighted shout. All emotion the man had let through in those few couple of words was more than worth the little monster's joy.

Tony pursed his lips, stopping the smile that threatened to spread across his lips.

After Peter had finally gotten his shoes on, it didn't take long until the unlikely pair hit the streets, the boy's small hand wrapped in a death grip around Tony's three fingers. Those big brown eyes were flitting every which way, trying to take in every sight of the busy life that was Midtown Manhattan. And Tony couldn't blame the kid for attempting to choke the life out of his calloused fingers. To any human, the busy life of New York was overwhelming, much less for a kid whose only family remaining had been murdered by giant scary robots less than a month ago.

"You okay down there, Pete?" Tony asked, crouching down slightly as they walked in order for the small boy to hear him. Peter's head snapped to Tony in surprise, large brown eyes softening as he looked into the reflection of the man's sunglasses. He gave the taller man a couple of nods before once more turning his attention to their path ahead. Tony guided Peter through the crowd in weaving movements meant to avoid as many people as possible.

Truthfully, Tony hadn't been to many parks in the area over his time living in the tower. He never really had a reason to. Back when they were still together, if Pepper wanted to take a walk, they'd usually fly to somewhere scenic and breathtaking. Parks always had screaming and crying humans, and Tony didn't find relaxation from the symphony of squealing children. He always did his exercise in the Tower's gym, or when he began to feel too antsy, would take a suit out for a spin. So there really had never been a need to go to a park

Consequently, Tony had no fucking clue as to where he was supposed to take the small child.

There were so many parks in Midtown Manhattan. Chelsea Park, Bryant Park, Robert Moses Playground, St. Vartan Park, Madison Square Park, Bellevue South Park and then that one park by Hell's Kitchen. The reviews were unreliable and all over the place due to white soccer moms and what their idea of a "good" park was, and Tony was panicking. Because obviously Peter had a specific park in mind and the kid seemed so excited to go and scream along with the other small children. But Cap hadn't left a Post-It note with his signature smiley face in the right corner telling Tony what to do. It almost felt as though he had been set up, doomed to disappoint the child.

There was one clue, however, that Tony Stark was banking on.

When the team had first started living at Stark Tower, the citizens had gone haywire. There was an excitement in the city, everyone keeping their eyes wide open in hopes of catching one of the Avengers doing mundane, everyday things. The Whole Foods business had skyrocketed across America when Thor had been spotted eyeing the olive bar at the Whole Foods on West 24th street. The Starbucks on 7th street had never ceased to be crowded after Tony Stark and some unknown man (Bruce) were spotted buying a coffee and some green tea. And of course, the media flipped their shit when the adonis of a man, Captain America, was spotted running in Central Park at the buttcrack of dawn a few days after moving into the Tower.

But unlike the other Avengers that had been spotted, Rogers did not stop his daily runs in Central Park. The man had an ability to pretend something wasn't happening, and if the World War II vet ever felt too watched, he would simply take a run through the park's woods and leave the cameras behind him in a trail of his own dust.

Sooner than later, the media stopped covering Cap's morning run. Whether the news reporters were getting too tired at waking up at such an ungodly hour, or they were bored by the Captain's lack of reaction, Tony could only guess. But Rogers was left alone every morning to his run in Central Park, something he swore relaxed him and started his day off with a smile. Which Tony thought was absolute bullshit because who in their right mind enjoyed running? But then again, Tony's lung capacity was not the greatest, so maybe he was a little biased.

Cap was known to be a creature of habit. The super soldier loved his routines, loved having a schedule that he could rely on. He took pride in the places he considered his, from his room in the Tower, to the room he had commandeered as an art studio, to the alleyways he had been beaten up in back when he had been a scrawny kid in Brooklyn. So Tony felt somewhat safe in assuming that Central Park was the right park. Peter hadn't piped up about the walk taking too long, so he could only hope he was doing the right thing.

And the two made quite a pair. Tony looked as plain as he could, wearing a (borrowed) Brooklyn Dodgers baseball cap, a pair of unassuming, non-expensive jeans, a red Harvard University shirt he had picked up off the guest bedroom floor, and a pair of reflective aviators. Black tape had been placed over the Arc Reactor to hide the telling glow, a task that always left Tony feeling slightly nauseous and doused in a cold sweat.

Holding his hand was Peter, decked out from head to toe in Avengers merchandise. Something that Clint Barton had everything to do with.

When Clint had been assigned the duty of buying Peter clothes, they had assigned Natasha to go along with him, in hopes that her presence would mellow Clint enough so as to not pull his usual shit. However, when they had returned with twin smirks on their lips and many shopping bags in their hands, the team realized they had made a mistake.

So of course, Peter was dressed with a shirt of the Captain's shield, Nike shorts that had the "Just Do It" swish artistically placed to be Iron Man's smoke trail, and gym shoes with all the Avengers on them, lighting up with every step the walking advertisement took.

No one gave them a second glance, so Tony hesitantly allowed himself to be proud of not fucking up something as simple as dressing Peter for the day.

It was a perfectly warm, windy summer day in the city, something Tony could fully appreciate when Central Park finally came into view. Across the Columbus Circle, standing next to a FedEx office, the green trees of the park could be seen. Tony almost felt his shoulders drop with the feeling of relief when the screaming of children could be heard over the car traffic. He looked down to see Peter with a smile on his face, still gripping the life out of the older man's fingers. Despite how hard Tony looked at Peter, he could not find a smidge of disappointment on the child's face, and god he had never felt so relieved.

Once they crossed the street, Tony began to lead Peter to one of the nearest playgrounds, Heckscher Playground, at the entrance of Central Park. Because of course, he had assumed Peter would want to play with all the other young, chaotic children on the playground. Tony did not expect the noise of discontent that came from Peter.

"Where are you going, Mister Tony? We have to go see the berry lady!" and he knew kids spoke gibberish sometimes, but Peter really was not making sense.

"The… 'berry' lady?" Tony asked, the pair stopping in their tracks in the middle of the walkway because apparently, taking Peter to a playground was not what the child had in mind.

"Mister Steve and I always go see the berry lady. She's nice and old," Peter informed the mechanic with an air of certainty that Captain Rogers possessed most of the time. It brought a quick smile to Tony's face.

For a split second, Tony considered dissuading the young child about seeing the 'berry lady.' Work still hung over his head like an unwanted, depressive shadow, and going to the berry lady meant walking and taking longer at the park than he had planned. But then, Peter looked so set on seeing the berry lady, and who was he to stop a little man and his dreams?

"Alright then, berry lady it is," Tony announced, and they continued their walk.

For some reason, Tony had assumed the walk to the berry lady would only take a couple of minutes. For some reason, Tony forgot that Steve Rogers did not get tired of walking and a five year old boy had all the energy in the world. For some reason, Tony did not remember the fact that neither the Captain nor the small child would have a sense of exhaustion or time when it came to a stroll in the summer heat.

He, however, did not have the stamina of a super-soldier or a child; a fact of which he was painfully reminded of as the hunt for the berry lady began.

Tony had no qualms at first, when they walked by the Heckscher playground. He had already resigned himself to the idea that this was not the place they were supposed to be. But when they passed the baseball fields and then crossed the first street that ran through the park, Tony began to worry. Because this was taking much longer than he expected and he could almost feel the groan of his joints at the unexpected amount of walking. He was fit, sure, there was no doubt about it. It took a certain amount of muscles to do the superhero stuff that Tony did. But long walks when the stress was piled high did nothing good for his body.

He tried to last for as long as he possibly could along the walk that Peter was giving him. And Tony was proud to say that he had made it pretty far before considering turning around, probable upset child in tow as consequence. The Loeb Boathouse was in sight, and the ducks on the lake were quaking, and really, he had done good to warrant a turn-around. But just when he was about to break the bad news to the brown-haired boy, Peter suddenly began to tow Tony along with a new vigor. And just like that, they were suddenly on a bee-line path straight towards an old lady with a fruit stand, her back to the lake behind her.

"Berry lady! Berry lady!" Peter cheered as they moved towards the vendor as fast as Tony would let them. The woman turned her head at the sound of her name (was her name really 'Berry Lady'? Surely not), and a large smile that crinkled her sweet, wrinkly face appeared on her face as her gaze landed on Peter.

It was at this point that Peter let go of Tony's hand, rushing towards Berry Lady as fast as his little legs would let him. She crouched down to meet him as he approached, giving him a kind hug that was well received. Tony watched on skeptically, measuring the interaction between the two and preparing to rip the child out of her hands at any sign of creepiness. But nothing bad occurred, and once the hug was shared, the two began to hold an animated conversation.

"Did ya bring berries today? Did you bring the black ones? They like the black ones the best," Peter asked with excitement, clasping his hands together behind his back as if trying to contain his overflow of joy. Tony could see Pete's fingers wiggling however, obviously not successful in holding back his enthusiasm.

"Of course darling," and damn this lady was the classic Grandma neighbor, everything down to a 't'. Even her voice sounded like it had an overabundance of love and a need to make cookies, "How could I ever forget? You and your dad deserve nothing but the best berries."

And that was slightly confusing, because when had this lady ever met Peter's late father? Did this pair go back? Was this Peter's actual Grandmother? It was at this point, while Tony was caught in a rambling thought, that she finally turned away from Peter's beaming smile to land her gaze on him. Immediately, her brows furrowed in confusion.

"Well, you're not the strapping tall blonde I was expecting, now are you?" the woman said with a humor-filled smirk, and of course Cap would be flirting with old fruit venders in Central Park and making them lust after him. Classic.

"That strapping young blond would be Steve. He's out for a little, so I've been put on kid duty," he offered his hand, "I'm Tony."

The woman shook his hand with a firm grip, grin on her face as if she were making fun of how formal he had introduced himself. By the way her wrinkles curved perfectly to the smile as if she never stopped, he could only imagine how happy of a person this woman must be, "I'm Gladus. It's very nice to meet you."

And holy shit she totally looked like a Gladus. Tony would have guessed Margret on the fly, but 'Gladus' fit this woman like cookies and milk. Which he was almost certain this woman fed to her grandchildren when the parents weren't watching.

She let go of his hand and gave him the once-over. Tony looked down in momentary panic to see if the black tape had somehow peeled off the arc and revealed his telling feature, but there was no hint of light peeking through.

"I will admit, I'm very disappointed to see Steve is a taken man. But you're soft on the eyes too, so I'll let this one slide. You both make a wonderfully good-looking pair."

She winked at him as if they had just shared a secret, a knowing look in her eyes as if he had told her everything without uttering a single word.

Before he had time to soak in what she had said, and correct her that Steve was very much still on the market, most definitely not interested in Tony, and probably waiting on Gladus to make the first move, she turned to Peter, sweet smile still gracing her lips.

"Does Dad number two here like berries, too?" Gladus asked sweetly, and Tony was about to confirm that he thought berries were pretty alright, when his brain finally caught itself up to speed and realized what Gladus had really just said.

It felt as though the air had been punched out of his lungs, rushing out of him as if it couldn't get out fast enough. Dad? Gladus thought…. Dad? And 'Dad number two' implied there was a 'Dad number one,' which meant Steve Rogers, which meant Gladus thought they were both dads, which meant Gladus thought they were gay dads, and Tony Stark's weak heart felt ready to implode because damn it, he had not prepared for this sort of thing in a simple stroll through the park. But of course, nothing was ever simple in their life.

And it should have been easy to solve this issue; easy to let the old fruit vendor know that she was simply mistaken. But his brain conveniently forgot how to speak English at that moment, as it always did when he needed it to do its job the most.

"We. Uh," was all he could stutter out in his flustered state, in an attempt to inform Gladus that he was neither a Dad nor a human in a happy relationship. But before Tony could stumble through saying anything more, Peter gave her an enthusiastic nod, looking to Tony as if the mechanic made the world spin on its axis.

Everything suddenly felt full of cotton balls. His mouth went dry and the noises around them in the busy park went muffled. Because Peter had just confirmed to this stranger, albeit a sweet one, that Tony was indeed the second dad. He had also just assumed Tony liked berries, but that wasn't the fact Tony decided to focus on.

A father, in charge of the happiness and well-being of a child. A dad, who was in a happy relationship with a nice looking, dorito of a man. And fuck, if this wasn't sending Tony into a spiral because truthfully, he never imagined himself ever being called "dad" by anyone. He had never had that talk with anyone he'd ever been with; Pepper and him didn't get their relationship stable enough to ever reach that point. And Tony had never really felt the urge to have a child, or be looked up to in that sort of way.

He wasn't ready to have any claim over any child, no matter if they were Peter or not. All his mind could play back to him in that moment was the constant mantra of "Howard," over and over again, like his brain was desperately trying to remind Tony just exactly why he had such an aversion to the title. As if he could forget.

Surely, surely the kid didn't know what he was talking about. The title of dad was heavy and strong, and Pete was probably throwing the word around for every Avenger that took care of him. Surely, Peter Parker did not see Tony Stark, a piping hot mess, to be his certified caretaker. Hell no. Absolutely not.

It was obvious that Peter was simply being a small child with no idea of how the world worked. In fact, earlier that morning, he had talked about his Dad coming back, not understanding he sadly never would due to the plane crash. But Peter was obviously looking past the fact that his Dad was dead, and instead was thinking the man was coming back; so of course, the boy's idea of subjects involving "Dad" was skewed. Right?

"It's okay young man," Gladus said, comforting the pale adult that was clearly shaken, "I'm not an intolerant buffoon like some people these days. Two men are just as capable as a straight pair."

Tony gaped at her, mouth opening and closing, trying to find the words to tell her she had everything all wrong. That really, she was making everything worse, and that she should really stop pushing the idea of Steve and him together deeper and deeper into the recesses of his mind. But she looked so convinced in her statement, and Peter was looking at him with big brown eyes, and Tony literally didn't know what else to do but nod and stare at the both of them as if they had a third eye. His shock (and slightly dissociative state) left him with the ability to do only that.

In a haze, he paid Gladus the two dollars needed for the biodegradable basket of blackberries, and followed Pete as the boy ran to the edge of the lake to feed the ducks. Tony never really saw such an activity as feeding ducks to be so exciting, but here Peter was, throwing berries in the lake with such enthusiasm, as if his life would amount to this moment, and only this moment.

Watching Peter, Tony felt an odd light lift in his chest, coupled with a deep throb lower in his rib cage. Emotion only slightly notched itself in his throat. Not the kind of emotion akin to the coming of tears, no. It felt more like fear.

"Uh. Pete, buddy. Why'd you tell old Gladus over there that I'm your… Dad?" Tony asked the boy, trying to catch his gaze. But Peter continued on, throwing berry after berry into the lake with some sort of rhythm that he had in his head. Tony almost believed Peter was too deep in duck-feeding to have heard him, and was about to repeat the words, when Peter paused his berry throwing to shrug. His shoulders rose to dramatic heights and stayed at his ears for a considerable amount of time, as if he had just started to learn how to shrug from observing others, and hadn't quite mastered the subject.

And although the prolonged shrug was cute, Tony couldn't move on from the subject. Even if his brain pleaded with him to pretend it never even happened.

"Peter, listen," Peter stopped throwing berries to look up at Tony with big brown eyes, probably sensing the seriousness of the man's tone, "Am I… What am I?" and that was a damn stupid way to ask that question, wasn't it? Tony quickly attempted to correct himself, "I mean, do you want to call me Dad? Am I Dad?"

And damn it, Tony's weak heart was pumping against the arc reactor like it was trying to get out. He honestly didn't know what would happen if Peter said yes in that moment. Would he accept his fate of being Dad? Would he spiral into panic? Would he scold Pete with the whole of Central Park watching? Would he dive headfirst into the lake in hopes responsibilities stayed on land? Anything was fair game in that moment.

Peter looked like he was thinking very hard on this one, staring straight into Tony's gaze. And then the kid must have reached a conclusion, because he looked very self-assured with himself as he said, "No. No, I don't want to call you Dad."

And fuck him, because if this wasn't one of the most wild emotional roller coasters he'd ever been on.

"Oh, right. Okay," and he honestly wasn't sure what he was feeling. It was an odd mix of relief and something that could have possibly been disappointment. Sadness, maybe? It was hard to decipher the tight ball of feelings replacing his thumping heart in that moment.

Peter nodded, obviously seeing the subject as resolved and over with, "Did you want to feed the ducks?"

The biodegradable basket was offered to him, little hands barely able to encapsulate the whole thing. Tony wordlessly accepted it, throwing it into the lake, completely lost in attempting to stave off an odd sort of panic attack. It wasn't a feeling he'd ever experienced before. It was something of a panic, sure, but it was filled with emotions that he couldn't discern. And he usually ignored his emotions, but this lodge of something foreign-feeling would not let it's presence go unnoticed.

Despite the haze of quasi-panic, Tony was still able to hear Peter talking. And the boy was quickly, and concerningly, becoming a mini-Rogers. The little monster was lecturing him about why they had to feed the ducks berries instead of hot dog buns, because Mr. Steve said that ducks couldn't handle digesting bread, and of course Steve (damn it, Tony's fucking brain used that word so endearingly) was worried about the digestive systems of ducks.

It was here, with Peter and the ducks and their digestive systems, that he began to ground himself once more. Talk of Rogers and "Auntie Nat" and "Uncle Clint" seeked to bring Tony back to reality, and he soon found himself being able to enjoy sitting in itchy grass next to a boy he had only known for about a month, feeding fruit to the attention whore of birds.

And the pair sat there for a good amount of time, feeding the ducks until there were no more berries to offer. In fact, the idea of going back to the tower did not even cross his mind, until he glanced down to Pete, just in time to catch the boy from picking a berry out of the lake that the ducks had failed to consume, and eating it himself. It was a quick but challenging grapple of hands, Tony desperately trying to pry the berry out of the small human hands. By the time he succeeded in getting the lake-infested berry out of Peter's hand, the both had berry juice artfully covering their hands, and there were tears streaming down Peter's cheeks because "he was hungry and wanted a berry, too."

It was only then that Tony announced it was time to head back home for lunch. They both said goodbye to Gladus, who handed them both a wipe for the berry mess in their hands and a small basket of cut strawberries for the road. Peter squealed happily at the strawberries, forgetting all about the salty tears on his cheeks, munching on strawberries all the way home.

By the time they reached the tower once more (taking a little longer than expected, due to the fact that Peter decide it necessary to take a twenty minute stop at the park of screaming children, seemingly forgetting he was ever hungry in the first place), it was past lunch, and grumpy Peter made it clear that he would not be eating the mediocre peanut butter and jelly sandwich Tony had prepared unless they both ate lunch on the living room floor. And of course Cap would have never allowed such a rebellious act, but Tony wasn't up for forcing the kid to sit at the dining table, and therefore allowed the command with little , more than happy to procrastinate work and bring Peter out of his foul mood, decided to join the boy for lunch on the ground with his Godzilla, Scooby-Doo, and out-of-place Obama figurine. Tony could only assume this was somehow Clint's doing.

Lunch on the floor lead to Peter feeling cautiously chaotic with the rule-breaking high, because by the time lunch ended, jelly and peanut butter had somehow gotten itself all over the boys face and in his hair.

Bath time occurred early that evening because of this, beginning with an exhausting chase after the elusive five year old monster who 'didn't need a bath' and 'liked the pb and j on his face just fine.' And even though it turned out to be quite a struggle to get the peanut butter out of the child's hair, Tony was ready this time for the ornery splashes of bath water Peter sent his way.

The rest of the day went by smoothly enough, despite Peter seeming bored and agitated by Tony's lack of ability to entertain while working on the new Stark smartphone prototype for the inevitable meeting the next day; a task that was no longer avoidable, despite how much Peter disapproved. And it ended up being clear that Peter didn't have nearly the right amount of energy spent throughout the day, when the child didn't immediately go to bed after a "James Buck" story. Peter's plea to sleep with Tony and "his chest nightlight" was begrudgingly agreed to, and next thing Tony knows, Peter spends another night sleeping in the guest room with him.

They went to sleep that night, Tony staring straight up at the ceiling as Peter slept on his chest, breathing deeply and twitching with a dream. The word "Dad" rang through his head, bouncing around as if a happy, yet anxious animal. He falls asleep to Peter's breathing, a smile lightly on his face.

I hope you guys enjoyed! I especially loved writing Pepper, because of course, who doesn't love their friendship? As always, reviews, comments, and kudos are my bread and butter! I love hearing what you all have to say, whether it be constructive criticism or gushing about all the things you liked about it!

Onward to the next chapter! :D