Warnings: Tony Stark-x-Pepper Potts, Minor Character Death, Guilt Issues, Abandonment Issues, Orphaned!Peter, Adoptive Father!Tony, Severe Injuries, Superhero Accidents/Collateral Damage, Making Amends, Original Unimportant Characters
Summary: A diverted attack takes away the last Peter has, and it's all Iron Man's
Disclaimer: All characters are owned by Marvel Comics and their various writers. I make no profit from this work of fiction./p
BECAUSE WE NEED EACH OTHER
TONY STARK AND PETER PARKER
PART 3
"Aunt May would not have been happy with you."
"She wouldn't be the first to not approve of me."
"No, no. I mean," Peter's eyebrows furrowed, "You've really never made cookies, Tony?"
So began Peter's crusade. Every time he thought Tony had a moment of peace, he would pounce, begging Tony take him to 'the little store on the corner Aunt May always went to,' and every time Tony found some excuse to squirm away and avoid the issue. He couldn't admit to Peter that he didn't own any baking tools; hell, he didn't even own a set of measuring cups. There was never any need to fill his kitchen with anything other than basic equipment when he could fill his workshop. He hardly ever spent any time there anyway.
And while telling Peter that seemed a little blasphemous, but it had to be done. It wasn't often that Tony felt the sharp prick of being without (he was Tony Stark, after all, the most privileged. Take that how you'd like), but something about the boy put him in that spot more often than not. Peter's scrutiny of him stung a lot more than even Pepper's, and Tony was finding it harder and harder to be the take-no-prisoners, give-no-shits, driven man he had always been around him.
Then again, when had Tony ever found it easy to lay his soul bare to anyone, even his closest friends? Something as simple as admitting to never baking cookies had turned into the discovery of an ever-growing stain of missed childhood milestones. Or so it seemed. Overthinking was a destroyer.
It took three full days, a lot of begging, more than a little whining, and one or two incidents of UNFAIR ALLIANCES between Peter and Pepper for Tony to finally give in. They made an afternoon of shopping for equipment (which Peter was very particular about), finding ingredients (if it didn't match the colors of the packages Peter insisted Aunt May had used, it was not going in the cart), and hauling and setting it all up inside just right (with Peter's nod of approval at the very end). Tony had to admit full cabinets and new appliances did look nice, even if it was a pile of things he would likely only use once.
"Okay, so first, we gotta put all the dry stuff together in this bowl," Peter stood on a chair next to him and pulled all the ingredients close, "It's, uhh, two and three-fourth cups flour, two teaspoons of cream of tartar, one teaspoon of baking soda, and a fourth teaspoon of salt. Here," Peter thrust the cup scoop into Tony's hand, "You do the flour. I'll do the little stuff."
"You memorized the recipe?" He asked, digging into the bag of flour.
Peter nodded as he carefully measuring out his parts, "Yup!"
"Like cookies that much?"
"Uncle Ben did," The boy said matter-of-factly, "He loved Aunt May's cookies, so every few days we would make some more so we could always have some in the house," Peter smiled, "Every Monday and Thursday, and once every other week we would make my favorite."
"These aren't your favorite?"
Peter shook his head, "No, but these are my favorite to make. They're easy. Wait!" Peter grabbed Tony's hand and stopped him from dumping the heaping cup of flour into the bowl, "You gotta scrap the extra off. Like this."
Using his finger, he pushed the excess back into the bag. Tony watched with a cocked eyebrow.
"It's very important," Peter firmly stated, no doubt reciting what he had been taught, "Gotta be exact. Baking is like science you can eat!"
"Science we can eat," Tony repeated, "I don't think I would want to try all science."
"This science is good," Peter grinned, "Especially fried."
"Fried snickerdoodles?"
"Mhm! Fry 'em then put some vanilla ice cream on top. Mmmm~"
"I'll take your word for it."
"We'll make some next time."
Next time. Tony smiled a little at that.
Peter gave the flour a good stir, pushed the dry bowl aside, and pulled another closer, "So, umm," Peter scratched his head, "Oh! We need a cup of soft butter," The yellow sticks sagged slothfully against the bottom, "And, uhh, a cup and a half of sugar," Yellow was quickly covered by grainy white, "And two eggs! One for each of us."
He passed one to Tony and knocked the side of his egg against the bowl's edge. Tony watched as a tiny pink tongue poked out of the corner of Peter's mouth as the boy carefully wedged his thumbs into the crack he made and pulled the shell apart. The gooey insides seemed to fall in slow motion and plop helplessly onto the sugar below.
"Perfect! Your turn, Tony."
He followed his lead and was almost immediately made head stirrer while Peter poured the rest in. Soon, the bowl was filled with a soft sugary dough. Admittedly, Tony was expecting something lumpy and gray. His previous kitchen excursions had never gone so well before.
"Alright, Rascal, what now?"
"We gotta wait," Peter sighed crestfallen, "We gotta put it in the fridge and wait for it to cool down. It's too sticky right now. It takes forever."
"How long's forever?"
"Twenty minutes."
Forever, indeed. Tony learned pretty early on that for such a patient, easy-going kid, Peter and waiting didn't mix. He supposed that was across the board for every child, but Peter would make a sport of it if he could. Let's do this, Tony! No, that's boring. This instead. How long's it been? We still have THAT long? Maybe this. This will take up lots of time! Read? Nooooo. That'll make time go backwards! How long's it been NOW? That game will take too long. I don't wanna watch that! Ready now?!
Tony could say that he was no better. Everyone was on Tony's time, and woe betide anyone that thought the opposite was true. He should make Pepper a medal for putting up with his fits in the very few times he was made to wait. Maybe Peter was picking up on his bad habits, even though he had yet to witness that particular one.
"Let's play Hot Hands!"
"Hot Hands?"
"Yeah!"
"I don't know what that is, Peter."
"Harry taught me. I'll teach you," Peter climbed up onto the counter to sit in front of Tony, "I'll be the slapper. You gotta hold your hands like this," Peter showed him, holding his hands out with palms down. Tony mimicked the movement, "Okay, so I put my hands under yours. What you gotta do is pull your hands away when you think I'm gonna smack yours."
"You're gonna smack me?"
"Not hard! You're not supposed to hurt!" Peter argued, "But anyway, you gotta pull away. I gotta get the top of one of your hands. If I get you three times, you're it, and if you pull away three times without me going after you, I get a free smack and you're it."
"If you get me."
Peter grinned toothily, "I'll get you."
"Think you're faster than Iron Man, Rascal?"
"Smarter too!"
"That's it. Crossed the line," Tony dropped his hands and shook his head comically. Peter looked absolutely stunned, "Those were fighting words."
"No! No, they weren't!"
"I've been around a good while, and I know fighting words. We gotta settle this man-to-man once and for all."
Before Peter could argue, Tony scooped him up and headed to the living room, where he was dropped onto the couch.
"Alright, Rascal. Me and you. We're going a round."
Peter bounced once on the cushions before popping up and standing tall. He wasn't nearly tall enough to look Tony eye-to-eye, but he held himself as if he was. Hands on his hips and chest puffed out, Peter smiled broadly.
"You're gonna lose!"
"Fight of the century: Iron Man versus Peter Parker."
Peter bounced again, getting a feel for just how high he could go, "The fight of the century would be you versus Steve."
"Iron Man versus Captain America. I could see the appeal."
Peter smirked devilishly, "You'd lose."
Tony's hand went to his chest dramatically as he stumbled back, "I can't believe what I'm hearing! I'd whoop Cap's ass. I thought you were on my side, Peter! That really hurt!"
Peter's expression was caught between grinning wildly and frowning, merging into something Tony could only describe as awkward confusion, "I was just talking smack!" He pleaded, "It's what you're 'posed to do!"
"Smack isn't that low," Tony shook his head, "Peter Parker, dirty fighter extraordinaire."
"I'm sorry, Tony."
All too quickly, Tony accepted the apology, held his arms out for Peter, and waited for the embrace, which Peter readily fell into. He should have been more wary of Tony's swift forgiveness. With a twist, Peter found himself in a loose headlock on the floor.
"Cheater!"
Tony laughed lowly, "Now, you should know better than to trust your opponent. They'll do anything to get ahead."
"Dirty fighting! I'm telling Happy!"
His laugh rang out louder, "You go right ahead!"
Peter kicked out and tried to get away, "Then I'll tell Pepper!"
"Oh, no. No, no, no," Tony shook his head, "That's real dirty fighting right there. You already get her to guilt trip me. You're not going to be a tattletale too."
"Help! Help! Pepper! JARVIS!" Peter yelled as he kicked more.
"They can't help you," Tony tittered, blowing a raspberry into Peter's cheek.
"Ew! Tony spit!"
Tony's grip loosened just enough for Peter to squirm away. It was the only mercy Tony would allow. He expected Peter to take off, put some distance between them, and come barrelling back to try to take him on again. How wrong he was. The moment Peter was freed, he jumped up onto the couch and launched himself at Tony, thoroughly catching him by surprise and tackling him to the ground. The air in Tony's lungs came out in a rush, his chest was covered completely by the scrawny kid pinning him down, and his whole being was completely stunned.
"-Two! Thr-!"
Tony shot up before the number could leave Peter's lips. He grabbed the boy and put him in a tight hug, squishing him to his chest.
"Dang it! I almost got you!" Peter's yell was muffled into Tony's scruff.
Yeah he did, "You did not," Tony laughed, "Gotta get up earlier than that to get me!"
Arms pinned to his body, Peter could do little more than struggle and kick as Tony laughed and held him close. He couldn't outmatch Tony in strength, but he was slippery and if he could just make an opening, he could get away again. Peter kicked up as high as he could and caught his heel on Tony's jaw. Using what little surprise he gained, the tiny boy slipped down from the hoop Tony's arms created, hooked his knee around Tony's neck, and managed to pull himself up onto Tony's shoulders in one smooth move. Small soft palms covered Tony's eyes, and Peter tried to throw his slight weight back to topple Tony.
Unfortunately, Tony stayed quite upright.
"Fall down already!"
"You've been watching Natasha."
"Nat's been teaching me!" Peter grunted and gave another valiant tug backwards, but Tony only rocked slightly with the movement, "Come on! Fall over!"
"Training the next Black Widow, is she?" Tony covered Peter's hands with his own and shook his head, "Starting with thigh-grabs of all things. Scandalous."
"You gotta fall sometime!" Huffing, Peter threw himself back one more time, letting his weight hang precariously from Tony's shoulders when Tony didn't fall.
"I think we can go finish those cookies."
"Don't change the subject! You gotta lose first!"
Smirking, Tony finally gave in and fell back at Peter's insistence, but it was hardly a tally in Tony Stark's L column. Peter couldn't scramble away quick enough, being taken by surprise, and was pinned by Tony's head, shoulders, and back.
"One," Tony counted, and Peter grabbed at everything close to pull himself out from under him, "Two."
Peter gasped and tried to push him away instead, "No!"
"Three," The number left Tony's lips slowly and Peter flopped against the floor in utter defeat, "Ding, ding, Rascal. Told you you couldn't beat Iron Man."
Peter was quiet and motionless, so much so that Tony lifted his head to look at him. He expected to see a very disappointed and upset child, maybe even an angry one, but Peter stared blankly at the ceiling with his brows furrowed and a sigh on his lips.
"Maybe next time, Squirt."
"Next time," Peter started, "I'll ask Steve to fight for me. Then I'll win."
Tony didn't want to, but he grinned despite himself, "You're a brat."
Peter returned the smile, "You're a brat."
Tony hopped to his feet, leaving Peter on the floor for the moment, before turning, grabbing the boy's outstretched hands, and pulled him to stand upright. Peter held onto his fingers even after he steadied himself and let his weight rock back onto his heels. He playfully swayed and trusted Tony to hold him up.
"Let's go finish those cookies, Rascal."
Author's Note: I hope you enjoy the recipe. It was just one I found on the internet, but I heard it's pretty good! What I didn't mention is that you have to scoop the dough out, roll it into balls in your hands, roll it around in some cinnamon-sugar, and pop them in the oven for ten minutes.
Comments and Kudos are very much appreciated! Go make some cookies.
