The first day went very well.

Tony was unfortunately not there to see Peter's face when he first woke up in his new room, but a later recount from J.A.R.V.I.S. would confirm that he was, in fact, elated. For good reason. Tony had paid mind to make the bedroom of every child's family—within safety measures, of course.

Instead of the star-and-rocket patterned bed, the bed was a rocket, the foot raising up into a "control panel" filled with enough buttons and switches to make a N.A.S.A. scientist impressed. They didn't do anything (for now) but Peter's imagination could do wonders. The glow-in-the-dark stars had become little LED lights wired in the ceiling. One wall was essentially one giant whiteboard, underneath which was a cushion-topped set of cubbies for all of Peter's toys. The whiteboard had a bucket of markers of probably every color of the spectrum and then some. All of Peter's books and all the ones he needed were now in a "shelf"—except that it was shaped like a star, each point was its own holding place with a sliding cover, and Peter could spin it around to get the books he wanted. There was a TV with a Wii on one end, bean bags on the floor, all his posters and pictures lining the walls like a gallery.

Was it a little much? Yes.

Did Tony feel any ounce of shame for it? Hell no, it was a great room.

Maybe Peter had spent some good time just exploring the new wonderland, or maybe he went straight for the door to figure out where he was. He came out all the same, though, and Tony spotted him quickly. Still dressed in his clothes from the night before, hair now an absolute nest. Seeing the cushions and stars of his room become sleek tiles and glassy surfaces seemed to unnerve him. His little hand started to trail on the wall to anchor himself.

"Wakey, wakey, something-and-pancakey."

He hadn't meant to scare him, but the boy jumped about a foot in the air. Then wonder returned to his face when he saw what Tony had set out for him. The pancakes he made himself (he wasn't a five-star chef, but come on, he could do pancakes), but everything else—blueberries, strawberries, chocolate chips, whipped cream, syrup, so on—had been delivered right that morning. Tony nudged the three-stacked plate closer to Peter as a blank canvas.

"Go nuts." That reminded him—Tony pushed over the glass container of crumbled peanuts.

Peter pushed himself up and onto the stool. He was almost drooling. "Really?"

"Really, truly. As you can see, I'm pretty boring over here." Tony pointed down to his own stack, just blueberries and syrup. "So wow me."

Wow him, Peter did. Like—wow.

After the bowl of chocolate chips was emptied and no more pancake-top could be seen under the whipped cream, it only then occurred to Tony to make the first introduction.

"Hey, I have someone I want you to meet."

Peter was trying to figure out how exactly he was going to eat his new creation, so when he looked up at Tony, his fork had pretty much disappeared into the sugar. "Who?"

"J.A.R.V.I.S., introduce yourself."

"Hello, Master Peter, sir."

Peter went as still as a rock. He looked around the room just to confirm that yeah, no, there was no human being to see where that came from.

"Say hello," Tony told him.

He did, quietly. "Hello…"

"I am J.A.R.V.I.S, the artificial intelligence system that controls and protects this house."

"Oh…I'm Peter."

"It's very nice to meet you, sir."

He had to look at Tony for confirmation. He was obviously trying to fight down a smile now, still confused but excited. This probably being the first time that someone called him sir, that word that only grown-ups got called, also helped. He turned in his seat a little bit, like he could face the AI.

"Are you a robot?"

"In a sense, yes. You can think of me as a robot without a body."

"Like one of the things that we—like, at home, the box that let you talk to the people outside?"

"An intercom."

"Yeah."

"Yes, I am, but I don't just let you talk to people. I control the lighting, the air conditioning, the electricity, and security. I know who is coming into the building and who is leaving it. I assist Master Tony with his projects and experiments. I can answer any question that can be researched within reasoning."

Peter took this as a challenge. "Any question?"

"Within reasoning."

"Why is the sky blue?"

"The sunlight that passes through the Earth's atmosphere is scattered by gases and other particles, and blue light is scattered more due to its smaller waves."

"How many stars are there in the sky?"

"As of now, there is no certain answer, though research puts the number between two billion and six-hundred billion."

"What am I thinking right now?"

"That is not within reasoning."

Peter deflated, but asking "Can you turn the lights off?" and the kitchen immediately being turned to darkness made up for it.

"J.A.R.V.I.S. keeps me and you safe," Tony told him. "So if you ever feel like you're in trouble, just talk and he'll answer. Or, you know, if you just want to talk to him. Feel free."

Peter was absolutely fascinated now, and turned back to his conversation ("Can you see me?" "I am aware that you are in the kitchen.") while Tony went down to his pancakes. Given, that was just the basic introductory to J.A.R.V.I.S., but Peter would find out more and more with each passing day. He didn't know that—technically—J.A.R.V.I.S. would always be keeping an "eye" on him. Not like a camera, Tony would allow him his privacy, but he'd already instructed J.A.R.V.I.S. to be alert for things like crying, screaming, or any form of bodily harm. He didn't think that was too bad.

The boy and the AI talked much through breakfast, during which the lights came back on, the window shut close, and "Hakuna Matata" blasted over the speakers. Peter didn't get too far into his pancakes—unsurprising, considering the brick wall of sugar—but that was fine. He'd probably crash hard later, but who cared?

The conversation was cut short by J.A.R.V.I.S. announcing that "Miss Potts is at the front door."

"Let her in." Tony pushed off from the counter and waved Peter forward. He'd instructed the AI to give him a heads up when she arrived. "C'mon, got someone else I want you to meet."

Peter followed him to the living room, all the while looking up and down, left and right at every shining surface of the mansion. At five years old, he probably didn't even care about leather couches or glass waterfalls, he just knew that they cost a lot of money and looked cool. If not, all the balloons and streamers still hanging up did the trick.

Pepper, in a charcoal blazer and pencil skirt, so professional so early in the morning, was carefully stepping her heels over the balloons on the floor. For no reason besides nitpicking, she readjusted the gift boxes stacked on the table. She was tweaking the bow of one, a little square wrapped in newspaper cartoons.

"This is Pepper Potts—" Make that Person #2 he nearly scared to death that morning. "—she's my assistant and you'll be seeing her a lot."

Pepper gave him a flat look for the scare, but softened on Peter. She'd already gotten a good look at him last night as they were tucking him into bed, but seeing the big doe eyes open and looking up at her was something else. Tony guessed that she was thinking what he had: so small, jeez! Unable to decide whether to kneel down or not, she sort of awkwardly squatted while she smiled down at him. Peter came closer; not too close.

"Hello, Peter. It's nice to meet you."

"Hello." He scratched the side of his nose, like he did that first time, and asked, "What's a personal assistant?"

"Uh, well—I do a lot of Tony's paperwork, and I answer some of his phone calls. I schedule his appointments and I let him know if anything is happening at Stark Industries."

Peter nodded just once before looking up at Tony instead.

"Have you ever seen a movie where there's an old guy in an office, and there's always a lady with him writing stuff down and telling him stuff?" Peter nodded. "That's what she does."

Though irritated, Pepper just nodded along, then turned to the gifts behind her and picked up the newspaper-wrapped one. She checked it over for a second before she handed it over to Peter with a real, teeth-baring smile. "Here; got this for you."

Peter took it quickly enough and tore off all the paper with little trouble. Under the Californian sunlight beaming through the windows, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory gleamed gold.

"I heard that one was your favorite." As soon as she said it, Pepper's face fell. Regret took over. "Which means you…probably already have it, huh? I'm sorry, I'll get you another one."

"It has all the pictures," Peter exclaimed as he flipped through the pages. Tony wasn't well-versed in Dahl, but he recognized the classic pinpoint eyes and sloppy lines on the images. He'd seen Peter's copy before, and all the characters had been drawn in a neater, more rosy-cheeked way, not as childishly charming. "Thank you!"

Relief silently took over Pepper's face.

The door swung open.

"Tony, they just announced a recall on that spin-art toy, the battery compartment can overheat and burn—do not let Peter open it, I don't want him to get excit—hey, Peter."

Just as quickly as he came into the room, Happy pulled himself up short, back to professional Harold Hogan. Pepper looked like she was trying to hold back a smile, while Peter looked at the man he soooort oooof(…?) knew with curiosity.

"You remember Happy, right?"

Peter scratched his nose again. "You were in our apartment that—the first time, right?"

"Uh—Yeah. I'm Harold."

Tony scoffed. "Call him Happy."

"You don't have to—alright. It's nice to meet you, Peter. Officially, I mean."

Happy took one step forward, caught himself, and drew back. Peter was not an unobservant child, though, and held his arm out as an okay. The two shook hands with as much professionalism as a grown man and a five-year-old child could manage.

"Are you a personal assistant, too?"

"No, no. I'm Tony's chauffeur—uh, that means I drive his car wherever he wants to go. And I'm his bodyguard."

Peter's eyes went wide. "Cool!"

Tony, though still just as grateful as he was annoyed about having a bodyguard even after all these years, sent Happy a wink while he took the torn newspaper from Peter to toss in the trash. "Very cool."

"Have you beat anybody up before?!"

Peter answered "no" the same time that Happy answered "well" and Tony answered "oh yeah." The three of them gave one another amused but displeased looks.

"I just keep Tony safe from bad guys," Happy tried to explain. "I don't just go around and beat people up. So, uh—I got you a present. Except, I just found out that it's very dangerous, so I'm going to just—take it back. I'll get you something else. Just—"

So very awkwardly did Happy pluck the jade-colored box from the table. Peter shook his head.

"It's okay, I've got enough. Thanks, though."

"Yeah, no problem, kid. Uh—Peter."

"Real nice of you, Hap. Really is. Speaking of, check out all these other gifts! Second Christmas, sport, go wild."

All the others were from Tony himself. So yeah, he was technically sneak-bragging, but whatever. This was step three of the "Make Peter Feel Better than Little Orphan Annie Going into Warbucks' Mansion" plan and he wanted to keep the ball rolling. Even if that meant getting a little side-eye from Pepper and Happy when Peter started tearing paper like a ravenous wolf.

It was nice. Very nice. Homey. Just the three of them, watching the kid open his presents and ooh-and-ah. Thinking about it, this was probably what Christmas would have been like had Tony been with an actual family, which he hadn't. While Peter had been celebrating with the Parkers and May, Tony had treated himself to his favorite Michelin-starred restaurant in town and spent the night in the workshop playing "Jingle Bell Rock" over the speakers.

While Peter was opening Gift Number 7, an Apollo 11 Lego set of more than a thousand pieces, Pepper caught his eyes and nodded to her right. Happy was left to nod along to Peter's exclamations while she and Tony stepped off to the side for a second.

Though she gave the boy a fond look over her shoulder, Pepper's voice dropped quietly as she spoke to Tony. "You're not going to spoil him, are you?"

"Ah, come on. This is just his big welcome. I'm making up for lost time."

"How much did it cost you just to get that bookshelf in his room?"

"Not a dime. Made it myself. Bet you didn't think I could woodwork, too, did you?"

Pepper shook her head, still almost smiling. "He going to get everything he wants and more?"

"I'm going to stay away from the line between 'providing' and 'spoiling'. It's a thick line. It's one thing to give him the things I can afford to give him, it's another thing to make him think he's entitled to those things. I'll avoid planting bad seeds."

"That's very well-said. Almost like you…I don't know, read it somewhere."

Tony took a sharp glance at her. Definitely smiling now.

He sighed. "Happy told you, didn't he?"

"You left it between the couch cushions one day." Catching Tony's somewhat pursed mouth, Pepper softened her teasing look and told him, "I think it's really sweet. I can get you more, too, if you want."

"I might call it quits after this one, actually. One chapter is devoted entirely to comparing raising a child to planting an apple tree and watching it grow. An entire chapter, dedicated to one simile. I…"

Pepper shook her head, too, and they returned to watching the present-opening. Happy took out a pocketknife so he could snap away some plastic twine around one of the boxes, then just about had a heart attack when Peter's fingers suddenly came forward to help by holding the twine taut. Peter had to promise that Happy hadn't actually sliced one of his fingers off.

The arrival of another person surprised Tony. Said arrival not being announced by J.A.R.V.I.S., meaning that they were in the okay-to-let-in database, also surprised him. Seeing who it actually was did explain that, but was the most surprising.

Obie had a calm smile on his face as he shut the door behind him with his heel. One of his hands was holding a cardboard tray of four coffee cups, the other holding a folded-up bundle of red cloth. He walked in like it was any other day, not even glancing around at the streamers and balloons even as his footsteps sent several fluttering up into the air.

"Morning, everyone. I know someone here likes theirs with five creamers, six sugars, and a bit of cinnamon, but I can't remember who it is, so I'm just going to make you take the Walk of Shame forward."

Even Happy gave Tony a look from where he was kneeling on the floor with Peter, who was watching Obie with the same recognizing curiosity he had before. Even though Obie had done a little more talking to the boy than Happy had—which was to say, he had talked to Peter—Peter seemed more wary in the older man's presence. Understandable, maybe, since Obie was notorious for his severe face that was only softened by his smile.

Not wanting to address the elephant in the room outright, Tony turned to Pepper. "That you?" Pepper shook her head, and he hummed. "Definitely not me. Get your terrible coffee, Hap."

Obie held the tray out so Happy could take the cup, and while he was bending over, turned his eyes to Peter.

"Hey, kiddo. Sorry I couldn't make it to the party last night, but Pep said there was a do-over this morning, so here we go." He held the red cloth out to him. "Not much, but I swear it's comfortable."

Peter took it from him with a quiet "Thank you." Satisfied, Obie left them to go to Pepper and Tony. They both took their cups, too, but Tony couldn't help but level Miss Potts a look.

"You give him a heads-up?"

"I just said you might be a little late today," Pepper said. "I didn't—"

"I'm a party crasher, Tony. Don't take it out on her." Obie tossed the empty cardboard into the trash. "You seem displeased. Why's that?"

"Hm. See, you ask that, but this feels a lot like a peace treaty, so…"

"Yeah, I was being coy. Allow me to explain."

He said this after taking a sip of his coffee and immediately grimacing, so he beelined for the kitchen without awaiting Tony's answer. Now being pulled aside from being pulled aside, Tony just waved an 'okay' at Pepper and Happy before he followed. Peter was struggling to get a piece of tape unstuck from his finger.

Obie was already sprinkling sugar into his drink when Tony walked in. "Remember when I apologized for being an asshole about this whole thing, and then immediately returned to being an asshole about this whole thing."

"I vaguely recall that, yes."

"I'd like to extend Apology 2.0. I figure, since the kid's going to be around a lot, I might as well get used to 'im before I start making him feel bad. Poor little guy's been through enough, I don't want to add Big, Scary Obie in the mix."

"Good. Fantastic. Just—before we get into another repetitive talk that derails into arguing, why don't you just tell me point-blank what the deal was this time? I know I kind of slammed the door of my bedroom last time, but it's been just about radio silence from you for weeks."

"I'm not proud of it." Obie took a gulp way too big not to burn. He leaned against the counter and turned his eyes on Tony, softer than he'd seen them for a while. "So, first, I thought you were just saying 'nuh-uh!' and then we'd meet back up for an awkward do-over. Thenyou stayed in Queens and starting making plans and I started thinking, 'okay, so he's taking in the kid just so he can prove a point.' Then I saw how much effort was being put into this and I thought, 'well, shit, he's serious and I'm being an asshole.' That was followed by about a week of me being sheepish before I decided to show up."

"Can't say I don't appreciate the honesty…"

"Anyway, I hear you now. The kid's staying, this is happening, we're doing this. Fact of life, I have to deal with it."

Tony pursed his lips. "So are you going to give me the don't-screw-this-up talk, or what?"

"Do I need to?"

"That's a loaded question."

Obie shook his head and chuckled. Crossing the kitchen back over to Tony, he clapped a hand on his shoulder. "You know you're going to be busy, right?"

"Oh, yeah. Tell me about it."

"Yeah. So, I decided to—oh, boy. There a problem?"

Tony turned to where Obie was looking, and stopped. Where Peter once stood, there was now just a teetering lump of red cloth. Two long lengths were flapping about, and it took him more seconds than he'd admit to realize they were sleeves. Happy was fretting off to the side while Pepper was tugging it further and further down.

Finally, fluffy curls and brown eyes popped out. Peter spat hair from his face. The sweatshirt was so big on him his arms were all but swallowed up by the thing, and the hem brushed against his bare feet.

Obie grimaced. "That's the smallest one they had…"

"Ah, geez—Do you want to take it off?" asked Pepper.

Peter shook his head, still dusting hair away from his eyes and mouth. "It's okay. 'S like a blanket."

Pepper nodded. "Yeah, it looks really—" Peter turned around, and she saw the V-neck and drawstrings beneath his hair and Stark Industries written across the boy's back in white letters. "—oh."

Tony just waved at her to leave him be. Obie shook his head, amused.

"I was saying, since you're good to be busy for the rest of forever, I'm going to throw you a bone today. Stay here, do whatever you want, spend some time with your boy. I'll hold down the fort."

Tony hummed, unsure. "People have got to be asking questions now."

"Everyone buys that you're just taking a vacation, trust me. You don't mind if I borrow Pepper for the day, do you?"

"Not if she doesn't. Thanks, Obes." Tony clapped him on the shoulder, too, and went to rejoin the party. "'Preciate it."

Again: the first day went very well.

Peter opened all his gifts and took each one with the same amount of wonder and gratitude. In his room, they all went strewn about the carpet, remote-controlled cars overturned on their sides and LEGOs creating a minefield. For today, Tony took care of cleaning up all the paper and balloons and whatnot.

May and Ben call a little after ten, and Peter talks back via J.A.R.V.I.S. Richard had explained that he was out like a light last night, so they weren't so upset about not being called sooner. He didn't mean to listen it, but Tony grinned as Peter gushed and gushed and gushed about his new toys and his new room and the view from his windows. He did the same for Richard when he called next. From what he heard, they all only sound mildly concerned, overall just pleased to hear his excitement.

It wasn't exactly beach weather four days after Christmas, so the first thing they did after Happy drove them to Los Angeles (hello, ball cap and face mask) was the Griffith Observatory. Clearly, Peter's love of all things space went further than just Star Wars, because his eyes were never not wide open. If he wasn't smiling, he was gaping in awe. He didn't just like looking at the star displays and planet models, either—he asked Tony to read the plaques of information and listened to the recorded voices over the speakers.

After that was Warner Bros. Studio, and there was no less wonder as they looked at Loony Tunes cells, movie costumes on display, almost-empty soundstages, and so on, so forth. Instead of a fancy, expensive restaurant, they grabbed a quick lunch at one of many, many Californian taco trucks. They ate in the car so Tony could take his mask off, but driving through the scenic LA streets while Peter stood up through the skylight made up for it.

It was a little too short notice to go to any of the big amusement parks of Universal Studios or Disneyland, but it was a remarkably fun day regardless. Real fun, Tony would recall with fondness later. True, there was no one around to snark at or with, and he did have to mind what he said, but that was okay. Peter was funny enough on his own—May wasn't lying about him liking to make people laugh. He did it so often, he just said things to crack a grin out of Tony.

It did make him sad, in a subdued way that didn't take him out of the present, that he'd been deprived this for so long. Honestly, he didn't know whether he was upset with Mary not telling him about their son sooner. Some part of him felt wronged, because like she herself had said, he had a right to know that. It wouldn't have been an easy thing to do, though. Tony didn't even know how he would have reacted to the news.

In any case, it wasn't just the morality of keeping the secret from him. Yeah, his wanting to have a real relationship with Peter hadn't been an instant decision. Now that he'd made it, though, he felt some envy for Richard and Mary and Ben—envy that he was aware was childish, so he kept it to himself. Peter was sweet and friendly, he wanted to be with Tony and know him, but he just didn't trust him, and that made perfect sense. They weren't yet close enough for Peter to just ask him for things, even little things like "can we do this?" or "can we do that?" Tony had to feed him ideas, and when Peter agreed, it was up to him to see that he was just going along with it and didn't really want to.

They'd have to work on that, he guessed. He was still planning how his busy schedule could work now. He obviously couldn't ask Pepper or Happy to babysit because that wasn't their jobs, and he couldn't ask Obie to do it, no explanation needed. He'd have to split time with Richard, and if not, pay for a babysitter at Richard's house, because he really didn't want to let anyone else know the secret. It was called a secret for a reason.

Who knew, maybe he'd be able to install a babysitting program into J.A.R.V.I.S. one day.

They were both tuckered out a little before five, and resigned to ordering takeout once they got home. Peter could only play with his new collection of gadgets and toys for a few minutes before popping in The Great Mouse Detective. Tony knew the need for alone time when he saw it, and told him that if he needed anything, all he needed to do was talk to J.A.R.V.I.S.

Peter only did so once to ask if he should go to bed—it was eight twenty-two, not even ten minutes past the time he'd gotten from Ben—and Tony gave him the go-ahead, goodnight. Peter got in his pajamas, brushed his teeth, and tucked himself in. J.A.R.V.I.S. confirmed as much.

Sitting down in his workshop for the first time in a while, giving DUM-E a fond pat on the head, Tony mentally gave himself a thumbs-up. He'd thought Day One would be a disaster, but it was pretty great, if he did say so himself. All he had to do was keep up the good work.

Just one last time: the first day went very well.

The first night did not.

It was maybe a half-hour since Peter had said goodnight when J.A.R.V.I.S.'s voice cut AC/DC's music off short.

"Sir, you've instructed me to inform you if Master Peter is hurt or distressed."

Tony had been bent over his work desk at the time, but stood up pin-straight in less than a second. He yanked the pin he was holding between his teeth out. "What's wrong?"

"He's not physically harmed, but he is crying at the moment."

Shit, Tony thought as he scrambled up to his feet. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit…

He ran out of the workshop, up the stairs, through the living room, all the way to Peter's bedroom door before he pulled himself short. Not to doubt J.A.R.V.I.S.'s report, but he leaned forward just enough to let his ear hover close to the door.

The AI had been right; the sounds coming from within the room were not the loud, bawling cries of a skinned knee or bruised elbow. No, they were the sounds of pure sadness, quiet sniffles and hiccups of air. His face was no doubt flushed and streaked with tears, but Tony couldn't even make himself picture it.

Tony stood outside the door so long his shoes threatened to root themselves in the carpet. He couldn't make himself open the door, even when his mind was yelling at him to do it.

He just—

This was going to be his life now, he was taking care of his son, who was five, and five-year-olds weren't always going to be sunshine and giggles. Especially not a five-year-old who'd just recently lost his mother, and his friends, and his home…He knew that. He knew that he knew that, he'd had so long to prepare.

But the idea of going in just froze him. He had no idea what to say. He had no idea how close was close enough, or too much. His presence alone might make Peter feel worse, not better. While he stood there, unmoving, he swore he could feel the eyes of May and Ben and Richard and Mary watching him, urging him on. Telling him that he should just get in there and be a father.

It definitely would have helped to call May or one of the Parker brothers, but at the same time, how alarming would that have been for them? Even if they'd all agreed to this, none of them were at least a little unsure, and a nighttime phone call telling them that Peter was crying his eyes out, could the please help, wouldn't help at all.

The best thing to do was go in there and comfort his son, because just trying was better than nothing at all.

But Tony didn't do the best thing. Tony was unprepared, and scared, and—for once—stupid.

That was why Pepper showed up not long after.

It was very strange, seeing her outside of blazers and heels and whatnot. In simple jeans and a button-up, she already looked like a completely different person. Not that Tony was able to look for long, though. The second the door opened, she leveled him with a look of such crushing disappointment that he couldn't bring himself to take one step closer to her.

"You said he's not hurt?" She was already setting her keys on the table, not stopping to face him.

"Health-wise, he's fine."

Pepper didn't wait for any more explanation, or any debriefing before she opened the door, ducked inside, and shut it again. Effectively separating her and Peter from Tony.

He waited. Went to the sink to clean the oil from his hands. Waited some more. Spent some time looking out over the moonlit ocean, feeling sad for himself. Waited even longer.

The next time the door opened, Pepper was alone. There were no more sniffles or cries, but as she stopped just long enough to say "goodnight", a reply of "'night" came out as barely more than a whisper. Pepper shut the door softly.

She picked up her keys and moved for the door. Tony realized she wasn't even planning on giving him an explanation, which given, maybe he didn't deserve one. This was not something that was in her job description; this was not something you asked of anyone, ever, really.

Tony still asked, though. "Find out what's wrong?"

Pepper stopped while her hand was on the door handle. There was another withering look from her. Disappointed. Not surprised.

"He misses his mom, Tony," she told him. "He just really misses his mom."

That was the first night of the new life. Pretty damn bad, if Tony said so himself.