The night comes slow, dragging it's feet and keeping the blistering heat for as long as it may.
The sun is slow to dip below the horizon, moon reluctant to rise and the stars have yet to come out when Pepper comes to find Tony that night.
"Still awake?" she asks quietly, looking impeccable even in her messy bun and that over-sized tank that she stole from Tony, pale gray with a red and yellow trash can on it and blocky letters reading I AM IRON-CAN. It still makes Tony crack up every time he sees it, no matter how lame it is.
Tony closes his eyes and considers staying silent. He's tired, and it's late enough in the night that he can fake it, but it's a night where he welcomes Pepper's presence and so he answers quietly, "No."
His voice is hoarse and silent, an oddity in the stillness of the warm night.
He hasn't bothered to put his covers on, too hot, and his bright red Mickey Mouse shorts do their best to keep him cool.
Pepper lies down next to him and presses her toes against his, smooth feet bumping against each other and he laughs a bit when she hits a ticklish spot on the bottom of his foot.
"Stop!"
"Make me," Pepper grins at him, wild and roguish in a way that she rarely is. Must be his influence, Tony reflects.
He complies and rolls over, kissing her on the neck, where he knows that she's ticklish, and she rolls away from him, giggling.
He could drown in the smell of her shampoo, Tony thinks as they smile at each other, both a bit worn out from being tickled like that. "I love you," he breathes, carding his fingers through her hair, and Pepper laughs at him.
"I know," she says back, kissing the tip of his nose. "Are you going to sleep anytime soon?"
"Depends," Tony hums against her fingers when she rests a hand on his cheek, "Are you going to try and make me do more paperwork again?"
"No," Pepper laughs, "But Peter dropped by earlier."
"Peter, Peter, pumpkin eater?" Tony pouts, "And he didn't come see me?"
"We were in a meeting," Pepper reminds him, a gentle chiding, "He gave the receptionist a big bag of glow in the dark star stickers, said to give them to you. What are you planning to do with them?"
"Nothing much," Tony grins at her, "Why, you want them?"
Pepper rolls her eyes at him, "What would I even do with them?" At his thoughtful look, Pepper pokes Tony's stomach, "Don't even think about it."
"I didn't say anything, though!" Tony protests.
"I can see your brain thinking and churning away, don't think I can't," Pepper pokes Tony's forehead, and there is something soft and sweet to her smile that makes Tony kiss her fingers.
"Ah, yes," She giggles at him, sleep and fatigue ripping away any barriers or any semblance of formality, leaving behind a rarity, Pepper being completely with her emotions. "How could I forget?" Tony raises an eyebrow, "Nothing can get past the genius, Pepper. Secretly a superhero 24/7, the Great Pepper Potts can read everyone's minds and is omniscient."
"Don't forget omnipotent," Pepper grins at him, wide and crooked and utterly perfect.
"Ah, yes," Tony smiles at her, carding his fingers through her hair, "How could I forget? Pepper Potts, the All-Powerful." He hums the tune to a song only half forgotten, "I've been rubbing off on you."
"Oh no," Pepper sounds scandalized, "How terrible."
"It really is," Tony snickers, "I'm a bad influence."
"Terrible."
"Awful."
"The worst, truly."
"Glad you agree," Tony smiles at Pepper, "Do you want to put up those stickers right now?"
Pepper pretends to think about it, taking a long time before she drawls, "It's late, isn't it, Tony?"
Tony pouts at her, "We're awake, aren't we?"
"You need to sleep," Pepper smiles at him, "Big day tomorrow."
"Tomorrow's my off day!" Tony squeaks.
"You're trying to marathon all of Avatar: The Last Airbender in only three days, Tony."
He huffs at her, "That is a completely realistic goal and I stan it."
"That's... Tony, that's not what the word means."
"Yes, it is."
A sigh. "It's really not."
"It's slang!"
"Okay, I know that you spend a lot of time with Peter, but the word stan means..."
"Pepper, let me have this."
"You are misusing the word, Tony."
"Okay, fine, I'm an idiot," Tony pouts at her, "But I can still marathon ATLA in three days!"
"Look, Tony, if you spend ten hours a day on watching it, you'll still need four days to finish it."
"Okay, yes, but if I watch for sixteen hours a day, I can finish it in two!"
Pepper stares.
Tony shifts awkwardly.
"Tony..."
"I can do it."
"And I just want you to take care of yourself." Tony huffs even as Pepper takes his hand in hers and kisses his knuckles. Pepper's eyes are soft and her smile is crooked as she asks, "Can you do that for me?"
"You always have such high demands," Tony's knuckles stay pressed against Pepper's lips. She keeps them there and he does not choose to resist. "You could watch with me. It'll be like a date."
"Lack of sleep, moody attitude as a side effect?" Pepper smiles, "Sounds like you're trying to manipulate the situation into a bad break up."
"We're engaged," Tony smiles dozily at the tan line on Pepper's ring finger. She has tucked it away for safekeeping, but the tan line persists. "Kind of hard to break up."
"Go without more than 3 hours of sleep a day and see how our relationship fares in a week." Pepper laughs, but it isn't in earnest.
"If you start watching as soon as you wake and sleep as soon as you're finished the sixteen hours, that's still 8 hours of sleep." Tony points out.
"Accounting two hours so that paperwork doesn't pile up, one hour to shower, one hour for bedtime routine, one hour to exercise, around two hours to eat..."
"We can eat while we watch," Tony suggests.
Pepper laughs, the sound vibrating against the back of his hands, "You're crazy."
"You love me," Tony grins, wild and dopey at the same time, "So you're pretty crazy, too, right?"
"I guess I am," Pepper smiles at him, "You know, I'm feeling a bit tired..."
Tony quickly agrees, "You know, I'm feeling it, too. What a wild coincidence."
"Wild," Pepper giggles. "Have you brushed your teeth?"
"Of course," Tony says, scandalized. "Have you washed your face?"
Pepper raises an eyebrow, "Tony, you have a ten minute face cleansing routine, and you're asking me, who literally only has a two minute routine?"
"It's therapeutic," Tony pouts, "It's for my mental health."
"And you look very handsome," Pepper rubs a finger on the corners of his eyebrows, smiling, "Yes. I have washed my face."
"Okay," Tony smiles, "I guess we've both finished our bedtime routines, then."
"We should sleep," Pepper agrees.
"Yes," They close their eyes.
They fall asleep in minutes, tangled in each other's arms, and it's peaceful and soft and perfect.
(Until the middle of the night, when Tony rolls off the bed and Pepper is awoken by the thump. She thinks of leaving him there, then Tony rolls over and hits his forehead on the side of the bed. It starts bleeding, he is still asleep, and Pepper groans because only her fiance would get injured and stay asleep, forcing her hand in the middle of the night.
"You suck," she mumbles as she puts the band-aid on his forehead, still half asleep.
"I love you, too," Tony yawns.
The rest of their sleep is peaceful, though, so that should count for something?)
Tony is watching Peter play the piano.
There is a cup of strawberry slush in his hand that he drinks from a bendy straw (because who doesn't love bendy straws?) and Peter looks utterly absorbed in the music.
They are in the Avengers Compound. Tony doesn't spend nearly so much time here as he probably ought to (he wants to, sometimes, thinks he should, hates himself for not doing it, but Pepper's soft touches feel better when he knows they are alone in a little corner store and the Parker's little apartment is much kinder than the vast emptiness of whitewashed walls and expensive metal edges on bulletproof windows), but the Parker's apartment has no piano nor walls thick enough for him to buy them one, and thus Peter has come today to play the piano.
The sound of Peter playing is clumsy, his fingers tend to stumble when he sight reads, and he's sight reading Hey Jude, trying hands together for the first time.
Tony thinks that it sounds wonderful anyway, and tells Peter such when he finishes up and goes to sit next to Tony.
Peter smiles a bit at him, "Thanks," he says quietly.
Tony and Peter fall into light conversation, little matters that don't really concern either of them and that they don't need to remember, and somewhere it ends with Peter saying you would make a good dad.
Tony freezes.
"No," He says. It comes out almost brooding, and he can't fight down the urge to stare at his hands, calloused and scarred from little accidents in the workshop (a scar from when he got distracted with soldering, from an accident with summoning the Iron Man armor, so forth). "I wouldn't."
Peter scowls at him, "You're not doing that thing again, are you?"
"What thing?" Tony demands, knowing Full Well what Thing Peter is referring to.
"That self-esteem thing," Peter waves his hands vaguely, gesturing at nothing, "Where you get all down on yourself for no reason."
Tony gnaws on his straw, a nervous habit that he hopes doesn't stick with him (nervous habits get you injured in hero work). "Parenting is a big deal," he mumbles.
"You would be good at it," Peter answers lightly.
Tony shakes his head, "You have to... you have to put your kid above so much else, to be a good parent. You have to teach your kid how to prioritize and how to life, and you're dedicating a lifetime, you're dedicating eighteen years to shaping your kid, this isn't just telling someone something, you have to be amazing and empathetic and I just..." the straw bends between his teeth because straws are fragile and flexible, "I just can't do that."
Peter hums, "You're good at it."
"No, kid, I," Tony huffs, "Maybe one day. When I'm a better person, yeah? When I can hold kids and look at them, when I can be patient and ask things like why do you think that? and be willing to listen to an hour of toddler opinions, take note of everything, and then gently guide them to the right answer in a way that makes them think that they were the ones who had an epiphany. When I can look at a crying kid and empathize instead of trying to stick a band-aid over it and ignoring the root of the problem. When I can do..." he clenches his hand and unclenches it, "When I can be more."
Peter laughs a bit and rests his head on Tony's shoulders, "You know what to do."
"You forget things in the heat of the moment," Tony says quietly, "You get mad or you're tired one day and you say the wrong thing, and I'll forget that I ever called my kid stupid when they were five and I was tired, and they'll remember it when they're twenty-five on their wedding day."
Peter is quiet for a moment, and he says quietly, "You don't have to be one. I'm not saying that. I'm just saying, you're a better person than you think you are."
"Not good enough for a kid," Tony shrugs, and Peter's head bobs up and floats down with the movement.
"Yet," Peter smiles a bit at Tony.
Tony's chest is tight, but his lips smile back, "Yet," he echoes, a bit hesitantly.
Peter grins, "That's okay. Just means I get you all to myself!"
Tony sticks his tongue out, "I'm not your dad, kid," he grumbles.
"Could've fooled me," Peter laughs, "You bought half my furniture."
"Shut up," Tony grumbles.
Peter smiles at him, "It's okay. You're not my dad. But you're close enough."
Tony's face is red, and he can't think of a proper response. "Yeah, well," he clears his throat, "You're a good kid."
Peter laughs.
Tony thinks, he's not good enough to be a parent yet, but Peter is enough. He doesn't need a kid.
(At least, until Peter goes to college and Tony is left without him coming over all the time. Then... maybe. He's still got two years until that happens.)