I'm glad you all enjoyed the fluffier chapter last week! This chapter is pretty fluffy too but don't worry, we're getting back to the gritty stuff soon enough. ;)


"Sir, Captain Rogers is on the line," JARVIS said over the pulsating blare of Tony's music, causing Tony to drop his soldering iron onto the counter with a loud clatter.

"What's he want, JARVIS?" Tony grumbled as he replaced the iron back onto its stand. "I'm a bit busy at the moment. Pete's been waiting for these boots for a long time, and—"

"He says his inquiry is in regards to Master Peter," answered JARVIS. "Something about a baseball game."

"Baseball game?" Tony muttered. "Okay, fine, put him through."

"The Captain is asking if he could speak with you in person, sir," JARVIS said a moment later.

Tony let out a heavy sigh as he glanced over at the clock. He had promised Peter he would take him to Delmar's after school today, and he had only about thirty minutes before he needed to leave.

"Yeah, okay," answered Tony. "But tell him it's gonna have to be quick, it's almost time for me to go."

"Very good, sir."

Admitting he was not going to get anymore work done for the time being, Tony unplugged the soldering iron and turned off his work lights. He'd managed to get one of the boots completely finished at least. Maybe he and Peter could finish the other one after he was done with his homework for the night.

He'd just stepped into the living room when the elevator doors opened. "Hey, Tony," Steve said as he tentatively stepped into the apartment. "Thanks for letting me come up."

"Yeah, sure," Tony said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "JARVIS said you needed to ask me something about Peter?"

Steve smiled, reaching into his back pocket and producing what appeared to be a pair of event tickets. "Director Fury got me two tickets to the baseball home opener of the Mets. He said if I was a Brooklyn Dodgers fan as a kid that I was supposed to like the Mets now, so… Anyways, the game is in a few days, and I was wondering if I could take Peter with me. He told me he's never been to a baseball game before, so I thought he'd enjoy it. According to the weather, it's supposed to be a nice day."

"Aahh…" Tony mumbled, his heart thudding madly against his chest piece. "It'd just be the two of you? Would you have any extra security?"

Steve knitted his eyebrows together. "Um… I mean, it's a baseball stadium, so I'm pretty sure they have some security there, and—"

"Yes, I know they have security people there for the players, Rogers," Tony interrupted. "What I meant was, would you have any other security with you?"

"Well, no," Steve said slowly. "Why would I? It's just a baseball game."

It's just a baseball game. But nothing's just nothing anymore. Is it?

"Because it's Peter," Tony said evenly. "And if I'm gonna let him go anywhere with you, especially somewhere where he's going to be surrounded by literally thousands of potentially drunken or otherwise out-of-control strangers, I need to know that he's gonna be safe."

"Tony," Steve said, his blue eyes full of hurt. "You know I can keep Peter safe."

"Can you?" Tony snapped, and Steve's head jerked back as if he'd been slapped. Tony breathed in, pressing his fist to his chest as he asked again in quieter voice, "Can you?"

"Yes, Tony," Steve replied angrily. "I can. And I thought we were past this. It's been over three months now. I'm not sure how many more times I need to apologize before you'll believe me—"

"Yeah, well, so did I," mumbled Tony. "Look, I'm sorry, okay. What I said was out of line. I just…"

"Just… what, Tony?" asked Steve.

But Tony only shook his head, unable to put his conflicting thoughts into words at the moment. How could he tell Steve that the conversation he'd had with Nick Fury back in January had been a lot more unsettling than he'd wanted to admit? How could he tell Steve that there were still security guards stationed outside both entrances to Peter's school because Tony was too paranoid to not have them there? And that he was delaying his heart surgery until school let out for the summer because the last time he'd left Peter in someone else's hands, Peter had been kidnapped?

"Look, if it makes you feel any better, I can ask Director Fury if he can have a couple of SHIELD agents stationed nearby," Steve said. "Would that help?"

"I'd feel better if they were my own guys," Tony replied. "Rogers, you gotta understand. It's nothing personal." Well, maybe it is just a bit personal. "If it'd been Bruce who'd been here that night instead of you, I'd still feel the same way. I just gotta make sure that Pete's safe, and—"

"I'm sure that would be fine, Tony," interrupted Steve. "But here's something that you might want to consider. The more paranoid you are about Peter's safety, the more you're gonna make him worry about you. And forgive me for saying so, but Peter already worries about you enough. He's just a kid, Tony. And even if he is your son, he still deserves to just be a kid sometimes."

"Pardon me for interrupting, sir," said JARVIS. "But it is time to pick Master Peter up from school."

"Tell him we're on our way, JARVIS," Tony said, pawing through the mess on the counter for his glasses and car keys.

"Will do, sir," answered JARVIS.

"Is that your way of asking me to come with you?" Steve asked, frowning as Tony walked quickly past him towards the elevator.

"Yep," Tony answered as the elevator doors opened. "Why, you got something better to do?"

"Well… no, but—"

"You wanted to watch Peter be just a kid, right?"

"Tony—"

"Just get in the elevator, old man. Pete's waiting."


"Really?" Peter exclaimed around a big mouthful of his flattened ham sandwich, causing Tony to chuckle. The three of them were crowded around one of the two tiny tables tucked away in the front corner of Delmar's Deli. "That sounds like so much fun! I've never been to a baseball game before. Uncle Ben was a hockey fan, and we used to watch the Islanders on television, but we never got to go to one of their games since the tickets were so expensive."

"Well, these were a gift from Director Fury," Steve said with a big smile. "We'll be right along the first base line, which is a great place to watch a game in the late afternoon."

"Oh, I can't wait to tell Ned about this!" Peter said, practically bouncing with excitement as he took a big sip of his fruit punch. "He'll be so jealous!" He leaned in towards Steve, lowering his voice. "Ned's dad is a Yankees fan, but Ned told me he's always liked the Mets better."

Steve let out a laugh. "I promise I won't tell anyone," he said as he stuffed the last of his second foot-long sandwich into his mouth. "My friend Bucky and I had another army friend who was from the Bronx, and he was a Yankees fan. But we didn't hold it against him. Or, not too much, at least."

"Hey now! No one brings up the stinkin' Yankees in my place!" came Mr. Delmar's voice from somewhere near the back of the store. "That's akin to blasphemy, I tell you!"

"Sorry, Mr. Delmar!" Peter called back, winking at Steve. "We won't let it happen again!"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll let it slide this time, young man." Mr. Delmar said, tossing a bag of gummy worms towards the table, which Steve easily caught. "Just make sure there's not a next time, yeah?"

Taking another bite of his sandwich, Peter glanced up at Tony. "Have you ever been to a game, Dad?" he asked. "Maybe Mr. Fury can get another ticket so you can come too!"

Tony raised an eyebrow, trying and failing to imagine Howard Stark actually enjoying himself at a public sporting event, even less so with a small Tony in tow. Tony honestly couldn't recall a single time that Howard ever took him anywhere just for fun, unless you count dropping him off at boarding school. Anything considered even remotely fun was Jarvis's job. Or, at least it was before Rhodey took over.

"Nah, it's okay," he said, ruffling Peter's hair. "My dad was always too… busy for things like sports teams. Besides. I've got a lot of work I need to get done before I'm laid up for most of the summer."

"Mmm," Peter grumbled, looking unconvinced but thankfully dropping the subject. "Okay. I'm full. Can we go feed the pigeons now?"

"Pigeons?" asked Steve as he got to his feet, a puzzled look on his face.

"Yeah, Rogers," Tony said, clapping his hand on Peter's shoulder. "You know, pigeons. New York has a few of them."

"Okay," Steve said slowly. "Um…"

"Am I missing something?" Peter asked as they left the store and headed down the street, towards the small park where they always sat while Peter fed the pigeons.

"Nope, don't think so," said Tony. "What makes you say that?"

"I don't know," muttered Peter. He stuck out his bottom lip. "Just that you guys are talking in some weird, grown-up code or something. I don't like it."

"It's nothing, Peter. Just your dad trying to prove a point," Steve said as they arrived at the park, which really wasn't much more than a pair of swings and couple of benches. Tony watched with pride as Peter tore off a piece of bread and tossed it towards the pigeons bouncing along the sidewalk, smiling as they all immediately flocked towards him.

"And I think I got it," Steve added pointedly, laughing as one particularly fat bird grabbed the rest of the bread right out of Peter's hand and bounced away.

"Are you sure, Rogers?" Tony asked. "Because I can always send a few Lego sets down to your place for the kid to put together, and then have you find all the random extra pieces with your feet. Did you know that Legos grow fangs in the middle of the night?"

"They don't hurt that much," Peter protested. "And I don't leave them all over the floor. Not all of the time. I've told you, it's like they just escape on their own!"

"They don't hurt when you step on them because your feet are made out of rubber bands, kid," Tony said, clapping Peter's shoulder. "They just bounce right back."

"Hmph. Very funny, Daddy."

"You just wait," Tony said as they started walking back towards the car. "Once you're a bit older, you'll see. Not that I want you getting any older, mind you."

"I'm not sure you can help it, Tony," said Steve with a grin.

"I didn't ask for your opinion, old man," Tony retorted. "In fact, I've decided that this child can remain just like this for at least the next ten years. Then we can just skip the whole high-school, angsty-teen phase and go directly to the time when kids start liking their parents again."

"But, I'm not ever gonna not like you, Dad," Peter said as they arrived at the car. He looked up at Tony, his brown eyes wide behind his glasses. "I promise!"

Tony's heart lurched as he shook his head. Is it possible to love this kid any more than I already do? Ignoring Steve for a moment, Tony pulled Peter into a hug, leaning down to whisper in his ear. "I don't know what I did to deserve you, Pete, but whatever it was, I'm really glad that I did."


"I'll be waiting right here as soon as the game is over," Happy said as he pulled the car up to the curb about a block away from Citi Field. "If for some reason you need to leave earlier than that, you call me. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Happy," Peter replied, trying hard to not sound snarky. "We'll see you later."

Peter had asked if he and Steve could ride the subway to the game, thinking it sounded fun since Steve hadn't ever ridden on the trains before. But Dad had vehemently said no, insisting that Happy drive them to the stadium instead. And it's not that Peter disliked Happy. He'd actually gotten a lot closer to Happy ever since the whole thing with the Mandarin, and to Pepper too, since she was staying in New York more often now. But sometimes his father's overprotectiveness was a bit much.

Not that Peter could blame him all that much. Peter did have a tendency to get himself into situations where Dad—or Steve—had to come to his rescue, and Peter knew that Dad cared about his safety first and foremost.

But still. It would've been fun to ride the train to the game.

"Bucky and I used to try and get to a couple of Dodgers games each year," Steve holding out the tickets as they entered the stadium. "When we couldn't afford the tickets, we'd listen on the radio or watch through the knotholes in the stadium walls." He shook his head, gripping Peter's shoulder as they wove through the crowd to their section. "Bucky loved baseball."

"They let you watch the game through the walls?" asked Peter. "That kinda sounds like fun!"

"Well, we weren't really supposed to be watching through the walls," Steve admitted with a wry grin as they took their seats. "It was Bucky's idea. He was always a bit of a troublemaker."

"He sounds like a fun guy," said Peter.

Steve nodded as he let out a heavy sigh. "He was. The best friend I could've asked for. Got me into all kinds of trouble, but then was always there to get me out again."

"That sounds a lot like my dad and Colonel Rhodes," Peter said. "From some of the stories my dad's told me, they're both lucky to still be alive."

"I am not surprised about that in the least," Steve said, laughing. "I can only imagine the amount of trouble those two could get into if left to their own devices."

Their conversation paused for a moment as the announcer came over the loudspeaker, asking for people to stand for the playing of the national anthem. Steve immediately shot up from his chair and removed his hat, standing ramrod straight as he saluted the flag.

Wow, Peter thought. He really is Captain America.

The actual game was enjoyable enough. Steve bought Peter a Mets baseball cap, which helped shield his eyes from the bright sun as the afternoon wore on, and bought them both a bunch of food: hotdogs, popcorn, snow cones, and root beer, which were all really yummy, even if Steve said the hot dogs in the old Dodgers stadium were better.

Peter was also glad that none of the people around them were too rowdy, especially since the Mets weren't actually playing all that great. But he didn't much like the sudden deafening cheers from the crowd that made him jump, one time nearly into Steve's lap, and as the afternoon wore on, he felt himself wishing more and more that his dad was with them. Steve was fun, and Peter enjoyed spending time with him. But he still wasn't his dad.

"You know," he said to Steve as the bottom of the ninth inning began. "Maybe you just need to find a new friend to do stuff with. Someone like your friend, Bucky. I mean, New York's a big place. There has to be someone here who'd wanna be friends with Captain America besides Bruce and my dad."

"Yeah, I wish it was that simple, Peter," Steve replied, his lips curling into one of those sad-looking half-smiles that he often did.

"Well, what about Mr. Morita?" asked Peter. "Didn't you say you knew his grandpa or something? Maybe he could be your friend."

"Mr. Morita is a very nice man, Peter," said Steve. "He's actually asked me to film some promotional videos for the high school students at your school, which I'll be starting on in the fall. But… the problem is that Bucky's death was my fault, and I didn't do all that well with living without him. And when I crashed that plane into the ice, I was ready to die. I thought I would die. And then… when I didn't… well, I'm still not sure how to really live quite yet. Does that make any sense?"

"You mean 'cause you don't understand how to work a computer, and stuff like that?" Peter asked, scrunching his nose. "I thought you were getting a lot better the last time I helped you."

"No, it's not quite that," Steve said with a chuckle, grabbing Peter's shoulder as the batter hit a base hit and the crowd erupted yet again. "I mean, I feel like I'm just kind of drifting along right now, not really sure of what I'm supposed to be doing. Director Fury's told me that he's gonna have some missions for me with one of the SHIELD tactical teams in the next few months, so I'll be making some trips to D.C. every now and then, but—"

"Well, isn't that what you're really good at?" asked Peter. "Maybe it'll be fun!"

"Yeah, I guess," Steve said, squeezing Peter's shoulder again as there was another base hit and roar from the crowd. "I just don't know if it's what I want to be really good at anymore."

"What do you wanna be good at? I mean, you're pretty good at drawing, maybe you could just do that? There's people out there who pay a lot of money for good artworks."

"Nah, I don't think I could make a living as an artist, Peter," Steve replied. "Besides, I'm technically on SHIELD's payroll, so if Fury sends me somewhere, that's where I have to go."

"Hmm," said Peter. "Well, maybe you'll meet a new friend on one of your missions. D.C.'s a pretty big place too. I've been there a couple of times with my dad when he's had to talk to the Senators about the Damage Control stuff."

"Maybe I will," Steve said, winking, but Peter could tell he was just saying it to placate him. "And, I think that's it," he added as the final batter swung and missed to a bitter chorus of boos from the fans, leaving two runners stranded on second and third. "We should call Happy now."

"Yeah, okay," Peter said as he pulled his phone from his pocket, pressing the button for Happy's number who, not surprisingly, was already waiting in their arranged pickup spot.

"I hope you had a good time, Peter," Steve said once they'd arrived back at the Tower. "Even if the crowd got a little loud at times."

"Yeah, it was fun," Peter replied, bouncing on his feet as the elevator opened on Steve's residential floor. He was eager to see his dad. "Thank you for bringing me."

"You're welcome, kid. I'll see ya later."

Dad was sitting in the living room when the doors opened to their apartment, a pile of what looked like blueprints for a new Iron Man suit strewn across the couch that were quickly forgotten as soon as Peter stepped into the room.

"Pete?" Dad said as he rushed over to him. "You okay? You look like you swallowed something sour."

Peter wrapped his arms around his father's waist, sighing in contentment when Dad hugged him back. He wasn't quite tall enough to reach the arc reactor like this, but he could still hear its comforting hum. "No, I'm okay," he said. "But I don't think Steve is."

"Oh?" Dad asked, running his hand through Peter's hair. Peter loved it when he did that. "What's wrong with the old man? Is he bummed just 'cause his team lost the game?"

"No, he misses his old army friend that died," Peter said sadly. "And I told him I thought he needed to try and make a new friend, but he just shrugged and said he wasn't sure that he knew how."

"Well, not everyone is as good at making friends as you are," Dad said. Pulling back, he kissed the top of Peter's head. "But right now you need a bath, bud. You smell like a bad combination of peanut shells and old sunblock."

Peter giggled. "Yeah, okay. Help me wash my hair?"

"You bet. Just holler when you're ready."


"Daddy?" asked Peter later that night, after he'd regaled Tony with nearly every single detail of the baseball game—including the massive amounts of food he and Steve had eaten—while they completed work on Peter's new Iron Man boots. Peter had begged and begged and begged for Tony to install the repulsors to make them flyable this time, to the point where Tony had honestly given it some serious thought… for about ten seconds. As hard as it was to resist his little boy's pouty face, Tony was nowhere near ready for Peter to go flying around the Tower quite yet.

"Yeah?"

"Those pictures you were looking at when I came home, they were pictures of a new Iron Man suit. Weren't they?"

Tony tightened his arms around Peter, closing his eyes as he inhaled the scent of his freshly washed hair. He was already starting to dread the day when Peter would decide he was too old to cuddle to sleep like this anymore.

"Yeah, that's right," Tony answered. "Bruce drew the pictures. He's helping me with it."

"Bruce?" Peter said as he lifted his head, his adorable nose scrunched in confusion. "Why is Bruce designing an Iron Man suit?"

"Well…" Tony said, pursing his lips. Surely Bruce wouldn't mind him telling Peter. "It's a special suit that we're designing together. Once it's done we're gonna launch it into a low orbit so it could be available anywhere if I'd need it."

"Oh. But what's so special about it? You've never had Bruce help you before."

"'Cause it's designed to subdue the Hulk, Peter," Tony said grimly. "Bruce wanted it, just in case something happened and he got… out of control."

Peter's brown eyes widened as his lower lip started to shake. "You mean, you'd have to fight the Hulk? But I didn't think anyone could fight the Hulk besides another Hulk!"

"And that's exactly why we're gonna build it," Tony assured him. "So we don't need to find another Hulk."

"But, but, you could get hurt, Daddy!" Peter cried. "The Hulk is so strong, he could kill you!"

"Shh," Tony whispered, pulling Peter's head back down onto his chest. "This is a last resort-type thing. You know, something you have just in case but hope you'll never need to use. Like a fire extinguisher."

"But, Dad, you use your fire extinguisher all the time—"

"Ah, ah, we don't need to bring that up," protested Tony. "And my… accident rate has gone down significantly since you came along, so—"

"It has?" Peter asked. "Yikes, Daddy!"

"Well, I have more reason to be extra careful now, don't I?"

"Yeah, I guess. But still. I hope you don't ever actually have to fight the Hulk. I mean, wouldn't that mean he wasn't nice anymore?"

"Like I said, Pete, it's just meant to be a precaution. And it was Bruce's idea. He wanted to make sure he could be subdued if he ever got out of control."

"Mmm. If you say so."

"I do say so, so there's no need to worry about it." Tony tightened his fingers into Peter's curls, rubbing his scalp the way he knew Peter liked. "Now, go to sleep, young man."

"Uh huh. G'night, Daddy. Love you."

"Love you too, bud."

Peter was asleep about ten minutes later. Tony waited about twenty more minutes before carefully rolling him over onto his bed, kissing his forehead as he adjusted the blankets and tucked George under his arm. Returning to his lab, he finished inputting the rest of the Hulkbuster design into the computer, putting JARVIS to work developing a three-dimensional model so he and Bruce could get started with the actual building as soon as possible. There was only a little over a month to go before his surgery, and Tony wanted to get as much done as he could beforehand.

Once JARVIS was busy computing and building, Tony turned next to studying the Extremis. Ever since he'd figured out a way to neutralize and remove it from Pepper's body, Tony had been fascinated with it, thinking there had to be a way adapt it so it could be useful without the potential danger of exploding.

If only I could use this to create a suit, he thought. Wouldn't that be nice during a fight? He'd have to build some sort of transport device for the nanoparticles, and have it on him at all times, which could prove cumbersome depending on its size. But being able to summon his armor immediately instead of having to wait for it to come crashing through a building or fly across half the country would be very handy.

And maybe, if it worked, he could even build something for Peter as well. The boy's love of his "toy" Iron Man boots notwithstanding, Tony would feel a lot better if he had a better way of protecting Peter when he wasn't around, even if that involved encasing him in his own suit of armor if the need arose.

"Miss Potts is on the line, sir," JARVIS said, startling Tony from his thoughts.

"Yeah, JARVIS, put her through," answered Tony. He smiled as Pepper's beautiful face filled his viewscreen. "Hey, honey. How was your day?"

"Not too bad," Pepper replied, brushing some hair out of her eyes. "Busy though. Moving a huge company like this across the country definitely isn't for the weak."

"Which is why you're the perfect woman for the job," Tony said. "Pete's sure looking forward to having you around more often though. How much longer do you think?"

Pepper sighed, ruffling through some papers strewn across her desk. "I'd say at least two more weeks. I'm meeting with a few people tomorrow who're still on the fence about transferring out to New York, and then we still have to decide on severance packages and housing, and—"

"Don't forget to tell the waverers that D.C. is an option too," Tony said. "The building there should be done by the middle of next year from what the contractors tell me."

"Yes, thank you, I will tell them," said Pepper. Shoving the papers aside, she leaned closer to the screen. "Have you scheduled your pre-op physical yet?"

Tony frowned. "Um…"

"That's what I thought," Pepper said with a rather smug look in her eyes. "It's Monday at 11am, and I've already given Happy the address."

"Aw, honey. What would I do without you?"

"Let's hope you never have to find out," Pepper retorted.


"Five more minutes till showtime, Mr. Stark," said the pre-op nurse, patting Peter on the shoulder as she tucked warm blankets around his father's legs. Peter tried to smile at the kind lady, who'd already allowed him to stay in the pre-op room a lot longer than he was supposed to, but it likely came out as more of a grimace. He was so nervous that his stomach was hurting, but he was trying hard to hide it since Dad looked so nervous himself. Even so, he knew deep down that Dad could tell anyway. Dad always said he was a terrible liar.

"Don't those hurt?" Peter asked, gingerly pointing to the freakishly long needles sticking out of various points on his father's chest, shoulders, and forehead. "They're so big!"

"Nah," Dad replied in a raspy voice as he squeezed Peter's hand. Peter squeezed back, trying to ignore the fact that Dad's hand was shaking. "Dr. Wu says they help him use less anesthesia drugs during the surgery. And less drugs means a quicker recovery time, so…"

"Well, then I guess that's a good thing," Peter said. "Even if they are scary-looking."

"Well, I'm pretty scary-looking anyway," Dad said. "Aren't I?"

"Only when you're mad at me," Peter replied, again trying to smile. "You always make this face, like you've tasted something really yucky, and—"

"Do not talk about food right now, young man," Dad protested. "I haven't had any coffee or eaten anything in over twelve hours."

"Whoops! I forgot, Dad, I'm sorry!"

"Nah, don't worry about it, Pete. I'm not even remotely hungry right now anyway."

Peter's lower lip twitched, and he pulled up his father's hand, kissing his knuckles. Dr. Wu had taken the time to meet with Peter earlier while the nurses had been helping Dad get ready, trying to reassure Peter by telling him he'd performed hundreds of heart operations on people far less healthy than Tony Stark, and they'd all survived. But even Dr. Wu had admitted that he'd never performed a surgery such as this, where it would be a race against time as soon as the arc reactor was removed from Dad's chest. Because even though he was going to be on the bypass machine, the piece of shrapnel could still cause a lot of physical damage to Dad's heart if Dr. Wu couldn't get it out fast enough.

"Hey, Pete. You wanna know something kinda funny?" Dad asked.

"Sure?"

"Remember when I told you that I met Maya Hansen and Aldrich Killian on the same night?"

"Um, yeah?" Peter answered, wondering why in the world Dad would bring those horrible people up now, of all times. "In Switzerland, right? But, Dad, they were both bad guys. Why would you think that's funny?"

"Because that's also the night I met Mr. Yinsen, who helped me escape from the cave in Afghanistan," Dad continued. "And Mr. Yinsen was the person who actually first introduced me to Dr. Wu."

Peter's eyes widened behind his glasses. "Really? You met all those people on the same night? I guess that is a little bit funny."

"Yep. And I'm pretty damn lucky that Dr. Wu agreed to do this for me."

"Why?" asked Peter. "I thought Pepper asked him. And we're paying him, aren't we?"

"She did," Dad said with a soft smile. "And yes, we are paying him, because good surgeons get paid well to be good surgeons. But he didn't have to say yes. I wasn't exactly… on my best behavior that night in Switzerland. But now, after this is all over and done with, I'll actually be able to say that the good things to come from that night finally outweigh the bad."

"It's time, Mr. Stark," came the nurse's voice from the doorway.

"Yeah, let's get this show on the road," Dad replied. He winked up at Peter, squeezing his hand. "Go find Pepper and Rhodey now, Pete. Tell them I'm fine and I'll see 'em soon."

"O—, okay," Peter stammered across the large lump in his throat. "I'll see you soon too, Daddy."

"Come with me, sweetheart," said the nurse, holding out her hand. "I'll take you to the waiting room."

"Yeah, okay," replied Peter, blinking back tears as the nurse led him down a short hallway to the private waiting room. They were in one of the large hospitals in Manhattan that had private surgery rooms with the waiting rooms off to the side, so the people waiting could watch the surgery if they wanted. Peter hadn't yet decided if he could stomach watching his father's chest being cut open, but he had to admit that this hospital was a lot nicer than the one in Queens where Auntie May used to work.

Stepping into the waiting room, Peter headed straight for the window, watching as Dad was wheeled in. Pepper and Colonel Rhodes came up on either side of him, with Pepper wrapping her arm around Peter's shoulders as Dad flashed them all the thumbs up sign.

"He says he's gonna be fine," Peter said as a single tear rolled down his cheek. He impatiently brushed it away, not wanting Pepper or Colonel Rhodes to see him crying.

"Yeah, he is," Pepper said, hugging him close. "He's got a lot to live for, Peter."

Peter brought his shaking hand up to the window, giving Dad his own thumbs up sign just as Dad's eyes fluttered closed. "Yeah," he whispered. "He does."


Holy shit, this hurts! Tony thought as his mind swam back towards consciousness, his muscles going rigid against the searing hot pain shooting through his chest and down his arms and abdomen. I thought the goddamn four-inch needles were supposed to help with the pain!

"Don't try to move yet, Mr. Stark," said the commanding voice of a nurse. "We're still getting you set up in your room."

"No worries 'bout that," Tony croaked through his sore, dry throat.

"Don't try to talk yet either, Mr. Stark," the nurse said. "We'll get you something to drink in a few minutes, and then your son can come in once we've got you completely set up. He's been asking to see you."

Blinking open his eyes, Tony could just make out the top of Peter's curly head through the window on the door across the room. Tony could tell he was bouncing on his feet, like he always did when he was impatient. "Can't he come in now?" Tony whispered, frowning at the horrible taste in his mouth. What the hell had they shoved down his throat?

The nurse sniffed, pursing her lips as she tucked a big red pillow in the shape of a heart over Tony's chest and down his left side, covering most of his incision. "Can he be careful?" she asked.

"He'll do whatever you tell him," Tony muttered through gritted teeth. "He's a good kid."

"Well, all right then. But if he gets too rowdy, we'll have to ask him to leave."

"He's not really the rowdy type," said Tony, watching as the nurse walked over to the door and whispered something to Peter before allowing him in.

"Hey, Daddy," Peter whispered, his scared brown eyes sweeping across the mass of bandages covering Tony's chest. "How do you feel?"

"Like the Hulk decided to curl up and take a nap on my chest," Tony answered, relieved when the corners of Peter's lips twitched into a small smile. "How're Pepper and Rhodey doing?"

"They went downstairs to get something to eat," Peter said. "They asked me to go with them, but I'm not that hungry."

"Mmm. Well, don't go too much longer without eating something," Tony said. "You tend to get grumpy if you go without food for too long."

Peter bit his bottom lip, looking up as the nurse re-entered the room. "Can I lay down next to my dad?" he asked in his squeaky, little boy voice. "I promise I'll be careful, I'm just really tired. I was too scared to sleep well last night."

"I'm sorry, honey," the nurse said with a shake of her head. "But your dad needs to rest too, and we can't have you—"

"I'll be able to rest better if he's with me," Tony interrupted, as firmly as he was able. "Pete will be careful, won't you, Pete?"

"Yeah!" Peter exclaimed. "I promise I'll be careful! Please?"

"Well, if you're sure," the nurse said slowly, and Tony let out a sigh of relief. I swear, there's not a single person out there who can resist this kid of mine.

"Oh, thank you!" cried Peter. With the nurse's help, Peter crawled up onto the wide hospital bed, burrowing down on Tony's right side with his head resting on Tony's shoulder. Tony turned his head, breathing in the comforting scent of Peter's hair, and felt his tightly clenched muscles start to gradually relax. This was much better than any painkiller.

"That better, buddy?" he whispered.

"Uh huh," Peter whispered back, his little body already going slack. "Loads."

They were quiet for a few minutes, the beeping of Tony's heart monitor the only sound until Peter piped up again. "Daddy?"

"Hmm?"

"I can hear your heartbeat. Your real one."

"Oh? And what do you think?"

"I like it. It sounds strong."

"Well, that's a good thing," Tony said. He brought up his right hand, weaving his fingers into Peter's hair. "Dad's are supposed to be strong, right?"

"Yeah. And you're the strongest."

Tony smiled and closed his own eyes. "Yeah, I am."


Tony smiled as he watched Peter tip his head back against the headrest of the rented convertible, letting the warm, salty air blow through his curly hair as he drove them out towards the site of the destroyed Malibu house. Work crews had finally cleared away most of the wreckage, loading everything they'd deemed salvageable into crates that Pepper then had shipped out to New York. Some of Peter's books and Lego sets had made the trip, as well as the Star Wars lamp from his bedroom. But there were two things that Tony wanted to see if he could still find, now that he was finally recovered from his heart surgery.

"Enjoying yourself over there, buddy?" Tony asked. "I told you convertibles were nice."

"Uh huh," answered Peter as he opened his eyes. "But I don't think riding in a convertible in New York would be as much fun as it is here. The traffic's too bad there for it to be fun like this."

"Mmm, maybe not in the city," Tony said. "But upstate is different. You get thirty minutes north of the city, and it's like a completely different place."

"Can you take me sometime?" Peter asked eagerly. "I've never been upstate before!"

"Sure, buddy," answered Tony, swallowing hard as he pulled the car into what used to be the large, circular driveway. He'd tried to tell himself that he wasn't going to get emotional about this. It was just a house, after all, and not even technically his since his father had built it. There were plenty of memories Tony had of this house that he would prefer to just leave buried.

But even so, it had been the first home he'd shared with Peter, and the first home he'd shared with Pepper. And even with all the lousy memories he had of Howard Stark raging at him for one damn thing or another, his ever-present bottle of whisky clutched in his hand, it was also the home where his mother had taught him to play the piano, and where he'd played dress up in Jarvis's clothes. And where he'd built the two robots that he and Peter were now there to search for.

"Do you remember what they look like, Pete?" Tony asked, trying to keep his voice light. Peter could detect even the smallest intonation difference in Tony's voice, and there was no sense in burdening the boy with more things that no one could change.

Peter shot him one of his 'duh' looks, causing Tony to laugh. "Yeah, Dad."

Tony clung to Peter's shoulder as they carefully made their way over the leftover mountains of destroyed concrete and plaster. He'd barely begun scanning one of the piles when Peter tugged on his arm, pointing.

"I think I see DUM-E, Dad! Over there!"

"Son of a gun," Tony muttered under his breath. "And Rhodey says that I have nine lives."

It took over an hour, but they were finally able to excavate both DUM-E and U out from underneath the piles of rock and get them loaded onto the trailer hooked onto the back of the car.

"So," Tony said once they were back in the car. "You wanna fix up DUM-E for me once we get him home, Pete?"

"Yeah!" Peter exclaimed. "Can I?"

"I wouldn't've asked otherwise," Tony replied, ruffling Peter's hair and chuckling as a bunch of plaster dust landed on his shoulders. Kid's curly hair was like a magnet for it, apparently.

"Dad?" asked Peter as he tightened his seatbelt. "Are we gonna rebuild the house?"

"Actually, no," Tony answered. He sighed, looking out over the sprawling ocean, blinking against the brightness of the sunlight glinting off the clear blue water. "Pepper and I decided that we're gonna stay in New York full time now. I'll still have to make trips out to D.C. every now and then, 'cause I gotta make sure those government types don't get off track with anything. But other than that we'll be in New York full-time, barring any unforeseen changes. Is that okay with you, Pete?"

"Well, yeah, New York is home," Peter said. "But are you okay with that, Daddy? You always said this place was more relaxing than New York."

Tony smiled. "My home is with you and Pepper, kid. So yeah, I'm okay with it. And, on that note, since you said you'd never been upstate before, I just might have given the go ahead to start overhauling an old warehouse of my dad's into another home for us. Somewhere we can go on the weekends to get out of the city, where I can teach you how to build a bonfire and ride a bike, stuff like that. How does that sound?"

"Really? That sounds great!" exclaimed Peter. "When will it be done?"

"Maybe around next spring or so." Tony checked his watch. "But first, I think we need to get back to the hotel and get you cleaned up, young man. We have guests arriving later this evening."

"Guests?" Peter asked. "Who? And what for?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe… Ned and his parents."

"What?" shrieked Peter. "They're coming here? Really?"

"Isn't it your birthday next week, Peter?"

"Well, yeah, but—"

"And Pepper and I thought you might enjoy another trip out to Disneyland," Tony said, laughing at his son who was bouncing up and down in his seat like a pogo stick. "Sort of a swan song to our time in California. Was that assumption correct?"

"Yes!" cried Peter, releasing his seatbelt and launching himself into Tony's arms. "Oh wow, thank you, Daddy! Ned always said he couldn't wait to go to Disneyland again!"

Tony hugged him tightly, kissing the top of his head. "You're welcome, bud. Now, we better get going, Pepper's waiting for us."

"Yeah, okay," Peter said, his smile so wide it threatened to split his face. "We don't want to keep Pepper waiting."

"You're learning, kid," Tony said as he started the car.


The first snowflakes of the late fall were swirling outside the darkened windows of the lab as Tony and Bruce stood in the middle of the room, putting the finishing touches on the nearly-finished Hulkbuster armor. Peter was sitting over at the counter, surrounded by his homework, which, by Tony's observations, he'd finished nearly thirty minutes ago. Tony couldn't fault him, even though it was a school night and he ought to have Peter getting ready for bed. He knew how much the kid enjoyed watching he and Bruce work.

"All I'm saying is that it might be a good idea to switch up the colors a little," Tony said to Bruce, tapping buttons on his monitor. "I mean, what if the Hulk considers purple more calming? Or a nice, soft blue? One of Pete's favorite colors is blue. Or even yellow! Pepper loves yellow."

"No, no, no, Tony," Bruce said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I really don't think the paint color is going to make one bit of difference if we ever have to actually use this thing. For all we know, the Hulk could be colorblind."

"Wait a minute, you don't know if he's colorblind or not?" Tony asked, earning a muffled giggle from the direction of the counter. "How can you not know this?"

"We don't really have all that great of communication skills, Tony," Bruce shot back. "Small talk isn't really our thing, ya know?"

"Oh, well, something to work on," Tony replied as he crumpled one of his holographic projections into his hands and tossed it towards the holographic trash can. "All right then, Iron Man red it is."

"Glad that's finally laid to rest," Bruce muttered.

"It'll probably be done in about a week, pal," said Tony, clapping his hand on Bruce's shoulder. "So I'll go ahead and arrange for the orbital launch with the bigwigs in D.C. and then we can go from there."

"Sounds good, Tony," answered Bruce. "And with that, I'm heading back downstairs. I'm beat. Goodnight, you two."

"And it's time for you to head to bed too, young man," Tony said pointedly, looking over at Peter with one eyebrow raised. "How long have you been done with your homework?"

Peter's eyes widened and he ducked his head, his round cheeks reddening. "Um… not that long…"

"Ah huh," Tony said with a chuckle. "C'mon, buddy, it's a school night."

"I know," Peter grumbled. Jumping down from his chair, Peter gathered his schoolbooks into his arms and turned towards Tony just as three huge, nearly blinding bolts of lightning appeared right outside the windows of the lab, followed immediately by the loudest crack of thunder Tony had ever heard in his life. His heart leapt into his throat as Peter cried out in fear, his schoolbooks clattering to the floor as he practically jumped into Tony's arms.

"Daddy!" Peter shrieked into Tony's chest. "What was that?"

"It's okay, Pete," Tony said in a low voice, blinking as he looked through the windows, out towards his old Mark VI landing platform. "I've got you, buddy."

Any response Peter might have made was cut off by the appearance of another beam of light, wider than the lightning and coming straight down onto the landing platform. Tony jumped back in surprise, tightening his arms around Peter as the light faded to reveal the tall, caped figure of Thor.

"Daddy?" Peter squeaked. "Is that—?"

"Yeah, it is, Pete," Tony murmured. Gripping Peter's shoulder, Tony walked over to open the door.

"Greetings, Stark, young Starkson," Thor said as he stepped inside the lab. "I trust you both are well?"

"Dude, you just scared the hell out of the kid," Tony said, glowering at the taller man. "What're you doing here?"

Thor let out a heavy sigh as he sank onto one of the chairs in the lab, setting his hammer down onto the floor with a loud clank. "I'm afraid that I require your assistance, Stark."

"My assistance?" asked Tony. "For what?"

"Malekith of the Dark Elves has stolen the Aether," Thor said grimly. "And I must find a way to get it back, or the very fabric of reality could be at stake."


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