AN: Hey everyone! I'm starting uploading old Febuwhump.

These I felt like could be grouped together. All separate stories, in different AUs, with Peter torturing Tony with his love for animals.

Peter was trying to torture him or maybe, he was trying to give him a heart attack. That was the only explanation Tony was willing to accept when he brushed the blinds aside and looked out the cabin window to see Peter, at the edge of their campsite where the trees got ticker, crouching down and inching his way across the dirt, with his hand stretched out, towards an actual mountain lion.

Tony dropped his coffee, shattering the mug, busted out of the cabin and had a gun pointed at that animal in under five seconds, but it's Peter's eyes that went wide, as if the gun were pointed at him, as if the real threat in this situation were Tony and not the overgrown feline.

"Mr. Stark!" said Peter. It was a whine, and it was a plea. "You can't shoot him! And stop moving so fast, you'll scare him away."

"Good," said Tony. "He doesn't belong here."

Peter scrunched up his face. "But this is his home. We're the intruders."

Tony exhaled, pointed the gun to the sky, shot up into the air and watched with relief as the cat scampered away from his kid and into the trees.

"Aww he was almost going to let me pet him. How many people can say they've pet a mountain lion?"

"Uh, none. They're all dead."

Peter grumbled a string of somethings about enhanced healing and super strength as he sat down at the picnic table and pulled out his phone. Tony ignored it. He'd never been a fan of teenage attitude, especially when it was directed at him, and since the boy's aunt died, since they got a bit more comfortable with each other, he'd been getting more than he ever signed up for. He guessed it couldn't be helped.

It was Peter's job, as Pepper liked to remind him, to be a teenager, and it was Tony's job to be a parent. Lucky for him parents had their own arsenal of torture weapons. He sat down across from Peter at the table.

"So, kid, I think it's time we had the talk."

"What?" Peter's head was still in his cellphone.

"You know, the birds and the bees and all that jazz."

His phone slipped through his hands and fell on the table, and his eyes went wider than when the gun had been pulled. "Umm that's okay, see we watched this video at school and it pretty much explained everything."

"Well you can't learn everything in a video," said Tony. "I remember one of my first times in college–"

"-oh my god Mr. Stark I will literally do anything to get you to stop talking right now."

He threw his head down on the table, next to his phone, and covered it with his hands. Tony grinned, victorious in parental embarrassment that would have even made May proud, but after that, he did stop talking. That wasn't actually a conversation he wanted to have, either.

Tony's win lasted up until it got dark, up until it was time to make a fire and he had to confiscate all fire-making supplies from Peter before he burnt the entire campsite to ashes. Then after the fire Peter retreated to his tent. He claimed that was real camping. Tony's luxury cabin was cheating, and it took every strength of Tony's being not to force him to sleep inside, where it was safe from mountain lions and… sleeping on the ground.

He did set up some high-frequency waves to keep the any unwanted guests from coming around again, though. He didn't tell Peter. He suspected he still had plans to try and befriend the mountain lion, and Tony didn't think he could survive the whining if he completely crushed that dream.

That night Tony woke up to pounding on his window. It was raining. Hard. But also, there was a Spider-Kid sticking to the side on the cabin, knocking and yelling.

"MR. STARK!"

"What the hell?"

"MY TENT COLLASPED!"

With inward groan, Tony went upstairs and to the front door, opening it and letting a completely soaked to bone Peter Parker into the foyer.

"Why," started Tony. He took a breath. He continued. "Didn't you just come inside?"

Or in other words, why did Peter have to wake him up at all? Why wouldn't he just quiet slip inside and collapse on the couch in front of the fireplace without pulling him from sweet, restful sleep? Phrasing was everything, though. He has read more than a couple of parenting books that was supposed to teach him proper communication.

"…the door was locked."

Tony looked at him, and Peter shuffled his feet awkwardly.

"Umm it wasn't?"

"Why would I lock the door when you're sleeping in a tent outside?"

Peter shrugged and Tony sighed, turned around and started to head back towards the stairs, where his bed was waiting for him. His hand was on the railing when thunder crackled loud and monstrous, and a strain of wind hit the cabin, just as loud, just as monstrous.

"Wait," said Peter. Tony turned and Peter's eyes were darting all over the place. "I thought maybe you wanted to play a game of pool?"

A strange request for the middle of the night, but then Tony remembered the pool table was in the basement.

"You're afraid of thunderstorms? And not mountain lions?"

"I'm afraid of tornados," Peter corrected.

Tony opened his mouth to tell him there were no tornados, just wind and rain and thunder and lightning, but particularly gusty winds pelted the cabin and Tony couldn't help wondering how it must sound to Peter with his advanced hearing.

"Go get dried off, I'll get some blankets, and I'll meet you in the basement."

Peter let out a breath of relief and nodded, while Tony said goodbye to every hope he had of getting a good night's sleep before they drove home in the morning.

Peter's snoring was also torturous. It reminded Tony of how tired he was as they treaded down the interstate, as he stayed awake to drive them home and Peter was possibly, from the way it looked, having the best sleep of his life. His head was pressed up against the window, his mouth hung open slightly, and Tony couldn't help it. He took his phone out and snapped a one-handed picture.

And he almost felt bad about waking him up when they pulled into a gas station off the freeway. Almost. He knew if he didn't they would be stopping exactly fifteen minutes later so Peter could go to the bathroom.

The kid perked right up, rubbed his eyes and once he was out of the car, looked around. "Oh my god, this is the biggest gas station I've ever seen."

Peter has lived with him for exactly one year, and the things he chose to get excited about always take Tony by surprise.

"Can we get snacks?"

Tony handed him one of his cards. "Go wild."

"Yes!" He took off across the parking lot.

"Hey," Tony stopped him when he got half way there. "No coffee, no energy drinks, got it?"

Peter's shoulders slumped, but he nodded and disappeared inside.

There were worse things than Peter snoring, like him being hyped up on caffeine and stuck inside a car.

Tony filled up the gas tank and watched as a medium sized, orange and white stray cat laid hopefully near one the trash cans. He resisted the urge to go fed it, and blamed Peter for that instinct entirely. Once he was done with the gas, he got back in the car, and waited. Waited for a worrying amount of time. He was about to march into the gas station and drag the boy of there when suddenly he popped out of nowhere, appearing on the other side of the car with a giant white grocery bag filled with only god knew what.

"I got you something," said Peter, as he buckled his seat. He bent over and rummaged through the bag that now sat at his feet. Eventually he pulled out a black coffee mug. It had gold letters on it, and they spelled out 'the best dad.' "For the one you broke."

Tony took it hesitantly. It was the best gift anyone had ever gotten him with his own credit card.

"-Look I know I annoy you sometimes," he said. "And I know you planned this whole weekend to distract me, May's been gone a whole year and I don't know – I don't know how I would've had survived it without you. I guess I'm just trying to say thanks, dad."

It happened so fast, like life, that Tony almost missed it. That a few hours ago he was Mr. Stark and now he was dad. The best dad, according to the mug, and this must be some kind of new torture. Tony Stark sitting a car, trying not to get choked up by a stupid, cheap gas station coffee mug. His eyes didn't know where to go, so when they trailed out the window, they landed on that cat again. It stared back at him.

"Damnit," he said. He got out of the car, stalked across the parking lot, scooped up the probably flee invested cat, brought it back into the car with him and plopped it down in Peter's lap. "There. A new friend."

"Oh my god really?!" asked Peter. "I can keep him? I love him!"

Peter's excitement over his new pet was enough to get him through the thought of telling Pepper they would now be sharing the penthouse with a cat, or at least that's what he told himself. To his shock, she didn't mind it much after making the point to Peter that the litter box was his responsibility.

Tony never used his new coffee mug. He put it up, on shelf, behind protective glass in the workshop, so it could never get broken.