Disclaimer: I only own the plot and my OCs. Anything you recognize as not mine belongs to Marvel Studios, Disney, and/or their otherwise respective owners.
Author's Notes: Holy shit y'all, I broke a personal record with this one-shot. 6k words! It's also my first Starker. I'm very proud of it. Just wish I could come up with a title that was cleverer than the song that inspired this one-shot, Brokenhearted by Karmin. Ah, well. At least you got something to listen to while you read, right?
Anyways, I hope you like it!
~TGWSI/Selene Borealis
~brokenhearted~
Getting drunk at his sixteenth birthday party probably hadn't been one of Peter's better ideas.
...Not that it had been one of his ideas in the first place. No, the blame there rested solely with Clint and Natasha. It had been a few months since the Rogues had been pardoned and the two former SHIELD agents had probably thought they were being clever – or at least funny, but Peter had seen them spike the punch. He hadn't said anything because he had figured 1) nobody would drink too much and 2) he probably couldn't get drunk anyways, but still, he had seen them.
The first signs of trouble had come about when everybody, Mr. Stark included, started drinking an excessive amount of punch. In retrospect, Peter probably should have said something then, but everybody was having a good time so...why would he? Besides to prevent Mr. Stark from consuming alcohol again, that is, but the man had said it himself to him once; he wasn't really sober, just refraining from consuming excessive amounts of drink.
The second signs of trouble probably should have been when Peter himself began to feel tipsy. He had an enhanced metabolism, he shouldn't have been able to get drunk...unless the stuff Clint and Natasha had spiked the punch with was really good. The kind that would set even Captain America on his ass. But the buzz had felt good and it had been his party, so he had decided to do whatever he wanted to instead of voicing his concerns. Which included getting drunk.
The third signs...they were pretty self-explanatory. In his right mind, Mr. Stark never would have flirted with him. Kissed him. Fucked him. And Peter, in his right mind, never would have accepted his offers, even if he had a crush the size of Manhattan on his mentor. But he hadn't said anything then, either. Not the things he should have said, anyways.
And now, here he was.
Pregnant.
Pregnant.
Preganana –
"Get over yourself, Parker," Peter whispered as he sat on the toilet, clutching the two positive pregnancy tests in his hands.
In his defense, he hadn't even known that he could get pregnant. Why would he? Before the spider bite, he had just been your average kid. And after it...well, after it he had changed, but there had been no major anatomical differences. No visible ones, anyways. Just an overnight six-pack and tiny, microscopic hairs and –
– Okay, so maybe there had been some major anatomical differences.
Still, what kind of person would have expected him to apparently grow a uterus and a shiny set of ovaries from the bite?
Besides Ned. Ned didn't count.
"Peter?" Aunt May asked suddenly with a knock at the door. He nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound. How had he not realized she was there? "Are you okay in there?"
"Um – yeah – I'm fine, Aunt May," he said as he hurriedly got up and flushed the toilet. Then, he silently cursed. What was he going to do with the pregnancy tests? He couldn't throw them in the trash. May would find out and...sue him, he didn't want her to know just yet. Not until he got his own head used to the idea. "Just – just give me a sec!"
"...You're not doing anything weird in there, are you?" she asked again. She sounded suspicious.
Did checking to see if he was pregnant count as "weird" if he was a cisgender male, he wondered? Probably. But he had better things to worry about.
Like where he was going to put these two damn pregnancy tests.
He looked down at the hoodie he was wearing and grimaced, before he shoved the tests into one of its pockets.
"No!"
"Uh huh, sure," May said. She didn't sound convinced.
But then she was walking away, and he couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief. Only to groan when he realized what he had just done a moment later.
Man, he was so –
"Nope, been there, done that," he muttered.
He had to tell Mr. Stark.
The thought occurred to him a couple of days after the tests. Well, didn't occur to him so much as he realized it was an inevitability. Sure, he may have only been two months pregnant (thank you, male pregnancy, for giving him slightly-earlier-than-usual symptoms), but Mr. Stark was the father of his child. Their child. He was going to find out eventually, one way or the other. There was no changing his name and running away to Seattle for Peter here.
Except. Except Mr. Stark didn't even remember the night of his sixteenth birthday. At least, Peter didn't think he did. The man had acted completely normal the next day, and Peter didn't think he would've if he had the same recollection that he did. Plus, he had mentioned that there were gaps in his memory. A lot of them.
"Hope I didn't embarrass you, kid," he had laughed when he had told Peter the last part.
No, Mr. Stark probably had no memory at all of what they had done.
...God, how was Peter going to tell him? "Hey, Mr. Stark, I know you don't remember this, but we had sex during my sixteenth birthday party and now I'm pregnant with your kid. Surprise!"
That didn't sound right at all.
"Hey, Peter, are you feeling okay?" Ned asked him. "You don't look so good."
Peter blinked, looking up from the meatloaf he had just been viciously stabbing with his fork. "I'm fine," he said.
Ned didn't look convinced. "You sure? 'Cause you've been throwing up a lot the past couple of weeks and I know you can't – "
"I'm fine," Peter repeated. Shit, MJ was giving them a weird look from where she was sitting across the table. He needed to change the subject. "Just...a little nervous. Mr. Stark said we're going to be working on some of the other Avengers' stuff today at the Compound."
It wasn't an outright lie; he and Mr. Stark were supposed to be working on Sam's and Nat's stuff at the Compound that day. Still, he felt guilty as he saw his best friend's face light up at the mention of the other superheroes. A guilt which only became more pronounced when he remembered what he actually planned to happen upstate.
He had to tell Mr. Stark.
"Have a bad day, kid?" Happy asked him later, once he had practically crawled into the backseat of the car.
"I'm fine," he insisted.
He just had to tell Mr. Stark.
"What's up, Underoos?" Mr. Stark said when he walked into his lab at the Compound. He was leaning back in his chair, glasses that he didn't need to wear perched up on his head. Peter's heart sped up in pace at the sight, and not just because of the news he was about to bear.
"Uh...not much," Peter said, fidgeting with the straps of his backpack. "Actually, I was wondering..."
He trailed off.
Come on, Parker, he thought desperately as Mr. Stark sat there, waiting for him to continue with a raised eyebrow, then with a gesture of his hand. You have to tell Mr. Stark. You can't be a coward. You can't be a –
"You were wondering what, kid?" Mr. Stark questioned him. His voice was laced with humor. And curiosity. And frustration. "Come on, don't be shy. Spit it out."
Peter hesitated.
Then:
"I guess...I was just wondering if you have stuff from any of the other Avengers we could work on as well today?" he blurted out. He cursed himself for saying the words as soon as he spoke them and desperately tried to get back to what he had been meaning to say, but his mouth was like a waterfall. There was no stopping what was coming out. "I – I mean, getting the chance to work on Sam's and Nat's stuff, it's great, don't get me wrong. I was just feeling..."
"Ambitious?" Mr. Stark supplied.
No. "Yes."
His mentor rolled his eyes. "Well Jesus kid, why didn't you just say so? Come over here, I got some plans for some other stuff, like Bucky's arm..."
As Peter walked over, his ears burning, he promised to himself that he would talk about him being pregnant with Mr. Stark's kid at the end of their lab session. He had to. He just...wanted to spend some time with the man working before he ripped both of their lives apart. Yeah. He totally wasn't a coward or anything.
Spoiler alert: Peter didn't tell Mr. Stark at the end of their lab session.
Surprise, surprise.
Two months passed by.
Every morning, Peter woke up telling himself that that would be the day he would tell Mr. Stark. Every night, he went to bed mentally saying he would do it the next day instead.
He didn't tell May. He was sure that she could have had some genius ideas, or at least advice, for how he should tell Mr. Stark about their baby...but he wanted to tell Mr. Stark first. Besides, he still couldn't completely forget how she had reacted when she had found out he was Spider-Man. Finding out he was pregnant too?
She might just lock him inside their apartment for the rest of his life.
This was what Peter thought about as he found himself in front of a toilet for the second time that day, this time in one of the boys' bathrooms at Midtown instead of the one at his and May's apartment. Shame coursed its way through his entire body; wasn't he a superhero, after all? Shouldn't he have the bravery to tell his mentor what was going on?
The urge to heave again temporarily interrupted his thoughts.
God, he couldn't wait until this part of the pregnancy was over.
When he was done, Peter stood up with a sigh and flushed the toilet. Afterwards, he turned around so that he could go over to the sink and wash his hands.
Only to be met with the sight of MJ leaning against the wall, her arms crossed as she coolly regarded him.
"Uh...MJ?" he asked. "This is the boys' restroom. What are you doing here?"
"You're pregnant," she said.
It wasn't phrased like a question.
Peter let out a laugh, one that sounded harsh and panicked even to his own ears. "Wait, what? MJ, I don't know what you're talking about. Guys can't get – "
"Transgender ones can," she replied without even missing a beat. "So can ones that go around fighting crime in a multimillion-dollar pajama suit, apparently. Why haven't you told anyone yet?"
He stared at her. "I'm not Spider-Man."
"Really? So you just occasionally skip class and Decathalon and get beat up for what, fun? Are you part of a fight club or something?"
"N – yes, yes I am. I'm not Spider-Man, MJ. I really don't know where you got that id – mmph!"
He was cut short by MJ walking across the bathroom and slapping her hand against his mouth.
He was tempted to lick it.
In fact, he did.
"You're gross, Parker," she said, though she didn't remove her hand from his mouth. "You're also Spider-Man. And pregnant. So, I repeat: why haven't you told anyone yet?"
This was when she finally took away her hand.
"What makes you think I haven't told anyone yet?" he asked.
"If you were telling people, you would've told Ned."
"Ned can't keep a secret to save his life."
"He hasn't told anyone about you being Spider-Man. Besides, he's still your best friend. You would've told him. Now, stop evading the question. Why haven't you told anyone yet?"
He hesitated.
"It's...complicated."
She stared at him, unblinking.
"Try me."
"Your life is officially fucked up. You know that, right?" MJ asked him ten minutes later.
"Tell me about it," Peter groaned.
They were both back in the stall this time. Peter was kneeling on the ground, his knees digging into the harsh tile. MJ was standing above him, one of her hands carding through his hair in a...strangely motherly way. It was something he would have expected May to do, not her.
Strangely, but not entirely unwanted.
"No, I'm being serious," she informed him. "You've had a crush on Tony Stark for years, he becomes your mentor, he has drunken sex with you at a party. Which is undoubtedly illegal, but anyways. He forgets he even had sex with you in the first place. And now you're here, pregnant. Definitely in need of medical advice too, but I have no idea who would have enough expertise here to give you it. I mean, how is the baby even going to come out?"
"I don't want to think about that!"
"Well, tough. You should've thought about that before you had unprotected sex." She paused. "Hey, what about Dr. Banner? Couldn't he help you?"
"He's still missing."
"Dr. Cho?"
"She's a surgeon, not an obstetrician. And all of her notes are uploaded into a database FRIDAY can access."
"That...sounds incredibly illegal."
Peter craned his neck to give her a blank look. The action almost made him dizzy.
"Alright, fine. We'll talk about the legality of it later. Just...there's really no one you can go to without informing Dr. Stark first, huh? Which you totally should, but..." She hummed. "You know, my mom's an obstetrician. She would totally kill to document a case like this."
Peter's head shot up.
"That's it!" he exclaimed.
"What, you want my mom to be your obstetrician?"
He shook his head. "No. No, I just need her equipment. If she has a portable ultrasound – those are a thing, right? – I could totally perform an ultrasound on myself. And if everything's okay, I'll tell Mr. Stark. If it's not...well, it's not. I just need you to get me it."
MJ scowled. "That's a stupid idea, Parker. How are you even going to learn four years of medical training in a couple of weeks?"
"I don't know, Google?" he retorted with a shrug. When her scowl only deepened, he looked up at her with wide, pleading eyes. "Please, MJ! Do it for me! Do it for the baby! You said it yourself, there's no one with the medical expertise for this. So why can't I do this myself?"
The two of them stared at one another.
Finally, after several moments, she sighed.
"Fine, I'll get you my mom's portable ultrasound. But I want it on record that I think you're being incredibly stupid, loser."
He was having a girl.
Peter looked at the grainy picture in awe, his eyes full of wonder. Although he couldn't see much of her, he could tell she was perfect. Five fingers on the hand that was splayed out and not currently pummeling his insides, five toes on each foot. A cute little nose. Everything the open-source, online textbook had said indicated a healthy baby.
"You know," MJ said as she set down the ultrasound wand – she had pointedly refused to let him do it himself, considering that it was her mother's equipment. "You don't really look pregnant."
He looked down at his stomach. It wasn't really...flat, per se, but it definitely didn't look like he was pregnant. More a post-Thanksgiving meal type of situation. His abs did nothing to help the look. They just looked stretched, not faded or diminished from the weight he was gaining.
"No, I suppose not," he said.
"Have you thought about baby names yet?"
Peter frowned. "No. Why?"
She shrugged. "I just figured it might be a good idea for you to have some baby names in mind when you tell Dr. Stark, assuming he has a good reaction. But he probably won't."
Ah, yes. Telling Mr. Stark. Something he had said he would do if everything turned out fine with the baby. Something he had to do regardless. But then he remembered how Mr. Stark had reacted with the ferry and...
"Yeah, he probably won't," he agreed.
Still, he allowed MJ to pull out several of her mom's books on baby names, once she had put away the portable ultrasound and Peter had cleaned himself up. The two of them poured over the volumes, and that was how Peter learned there were a lot of names you could name your kid. Thousands, in fact. Hundreds of thousands.
How the hell was he supposed to decide on one name from that many?
"How about Olivia?"
"No."
"Sophia?"
"No."
"Ariella?"
"Gross."
"Kinley?"
"That's a name?"
"...Arachne?"
Peter grabbed an empty water bottle off of his nightstand and playfully threw it at her. "Why you..."
"I'm kidding, I'm kidding!" MJ laughed, before a thoughtful look came across her face as she looked down at the book in her lap. "Hey, what about this one?"
Peter scooted over so he could see what she was pointing at.
"If I named her that, I would never live it down. Literally never."
"It's just a suggestion, Peter. You don't actually have to name her it. But...do you like it?"
"...Maybe?"
"So why not go with it?"
He had to tell Mr. Stark.
He was six months pregnant now. Thankfully, the nausea was gone, but his back hurt like crazy. His ankles were swollen. And he was horny.
So horny.
"What's the matter, kid?"
Peter looked up.
Speak of the devil and he shall appear, he wryly thought. Because there, standing in front of him, was Mr. Stark. The man was giving him a concerned expression, his dark brown eyes full with worry. Peter wanted to kiss him for it.
No. Bad idea.
"I'm fine, Mr. Stark," he yawned. "Just...tired."
"But not from patrol," his mentor pointed out.
Peter tried not to wince. It was true; he hadn't been out on patrol in a couple of weeks now.
"I've just been...busy. With schoolwork. And my new job."
That was also true. Around the same time he had stopped patrolling for the baby, he had gotten a job at Mr. Delmar's. It was more of a front than anything; he knew Mr. Stark would pay for whatever he needed as soon as he told him what was going on. But it felt nice to work when he couldn't do the work he actually wanted, so it was a fair tradeoff.
Mr. Stark gazed at him skeptically. "You know that I could get you just about anything you possibly wanted, right? A car, admission to MIT, El Salvador. You name it, I'll make it yours."
Peter's heart fluttered inside his chest.
"Well, some of us like to make an honest living, Mr. Stark."
"You shouldn't have to, though. Not at the expense of your own happiness," his mentor said. His expression softened. "But enough about that, because that hasn't really been bothering you. Something else is. It has been for a couple of months now. What is it, kid?"
Silence.
"Come on, Peter. Whatever it is, I can help you with it. You know that I can."
Peter practically shivered. How could he resist Mr. Stark when he said his name like that?
He opened his mouth.
Then, without warning, the red alarm went off in the Compound.
Red, meaning a highly dangerous event only the official Avengers – Peter was not one of them – could attend to.
Mr. Stark cursed. "Damn it, I swear to – "
"Go on," Peter said.
But Mr. Stark shook his head. "No, this is more important. I'll stay here. The others can deal with whatever's going on without me."
That was when FRIDAY spoke up.
"They really can't, Boss," the AI said.
Peter resisted the urge to laugh at how his mentor glared up at the ceiling in response.
"Go on, Mr. Stark," he said instead. "We'll talk about what's been going on later. After you get back."
Spoiler alert: they didn't.
What a surprise.
"You have to tell Dr. Stark, Peter," MJ told him at lunch, a few minutes before Ned arrived.
Peter hummed as he dragged one of his fries through chipotle mayo. It was weird, definitely not something he would have eaten before he had gotten pregnant, but hey. At least he wasn't craving dirt again. That one hadn't been easy to explain to Aunt May or Clint Barton, the latter of which had been unlucky enough to catch him eating it at the Compound a few weeks ago. "Do I, though?"
"Yes. Yes, Peter. You do. God, I shouldn't even have to be telling you this," she replied, throwing her hands up in the air in frustration. "Have you even told your aunt yet? 'Cause she's the first person you should tell, maybe even before Dr. Stark."
"Uh..."
"Peter."
"MJ."
His female friend gave him a look telling him how much she wanted to punch him right now. "Peter, you're eight months pregnant. For all we know, you could be having this baby any day now. You need to tell your aunt. You need to tell Dr. Stark. They're going to find out anyways when the baby comes out."
"I know, I know," he sighed. "I just need a..."
"Ultimatum?"
"Yeah, that."
"You know, giving birth should be enough of an ultimatum for you."
Peter didn't deign her with a response.
"Mmm, well, if you need an ultimatum, how about this," MJ proposed. "Either you tell Dr. Stark today when you go up the Compound, or I will tell your aunt."
Horror flashed through Peter's body.
"Wait, no, MJ, you can't do that!"
"Can't do what?"
Both of them spun around. Ned was standing there, a lunch tray in his hands and a look of confusion on his face.
Peter felt guilty as soon as he saw him. Besides Mr. Stark and Aunt May, Ned should've been one of the first people he told. Even before MJ, although she didn't count as she had figured it out herself.
MJ, for her part, seemed to have no such calamities. "Tell Monsieur Anholts about how our other partner for our group project isn't pulling his weight," she said, lying smoothly.
For a moment, Ned stared at the two of them. He didn't take French; he took Spanish only, unlike Peter who took both and MJ who only took the other Romance language. This was to their advantage, as he would have no idea that there was no group project in all actuality.
Sure enough, when the moment was up, Ned sat down with a shrug. "That's shitty. But Peter, if he really isn't doing the work..."
At the end of the period, while Ned went off to their next shared class, MJ pulled him aside. "Do it," she said, eyes flashing dangerously. "Or I will."
Peter swallowed roughly. He knew she would.
Still, that didn't stop his stomach from rolling with fear as he walked into the Compound three class periods and one car ride later. At least, he thought it was fear; it felt more deeper than that, though. More primal.
But as to why that was, he had no idea. Nor did he care to.
"FRIDAY, where's Mr. Stark?"
"He is in the lab, Peter," she informed him. "Would you like me to tell him you have arrived?"
Again, Peter swallowed. "Yes, please."
Like a dead man walking, he walked from the entrance of the building he was in to the lab. The fear in his stomach was now spreading to his lower back, though he tried to ignore it. Being afraid would be no good for what he was about to do now.
"Hey, kid," Mr. Stark said as soon as he walked into the lab, not once looking up once from the project he was working on. It looked to be some of Hawkeye's arrows. Or something. Peter tried not to think about what it exactly was, knowing that as soon as he began to think about the project his concentration would be lost and MJ would wind up going through with the ultimatum, no matter how horrible it was. "Hope you're in the mood for working on some of Clint's arrows, because he – "
"Mr. Stark, can we talk?" he blurted out.
The effect was both one he desired and one he didn't. Mr. Stark looked up, a concerned frown marring his perfect features. He could tell how incredibly nervous he was, Peter knew. He was just good like that, even if Peter's face and voice weren't both open books. "Sure, kid. What's up?"
Peter wet his lips anxiously.
"Well, Mr. Stark," he began.
Only to stop in mid-sentence, eyes widening.
As in that moment, from deep inside him, a popping sensation occurred. He could hear it, could feel it at the same time a strong and steady trickle of water came out of his body and went down his pants' legs.
No, Peter thought desperately. No, no, no...
"Kid?" Mr. Stark asked him. He was out of his chair and standing in front of Peter, the frown of concern now turned into a full-blown look of worry. "Peter? Are you alright?"
"No," he choked out.
It was the wrong thing to say, but he couldn't take it back. Panic bloomed across Mr. Stark's face, thoughts of the worst visibly going through his head. "I – shit – kid, what's wrong? Is something going on at your school? Your job? Is your aunt giving you a hard time?"
"No," Peter said again. "My water just broke."
It was one month too soon; he was only eight months, for Christ's sake! He was nowhere near ready to have a baby yet. He still had to tell Mr. Stark, but not like this; still had to tell Aunt May, and Ned, and Mr. Delmar, and the rest of the Avengers. Still had to –
Peter winced as the beginning of what he now knew to be another contraction swept through him.
From above, Mr. Stark's eyebrows furrowed. In any other circumstance, it would've been funny. Greatest mind in the entire world, and four simple words seemingly did not compute. Now, though, it was only irritating. Extremely so.
"Your what?"
"My water just broke," Peter repeated. "I'm pregnant, Mr. Stark. This wasn't really how I wanted to tell you. But since what's done is done, can you please take me to the medical – ah!"
He groaned as his knees gave out from underneath him from the pain.
However, before he could actually fall, Mr. Stark caught him. It was probably an instinctual move more than anything else, yet Peter couldn't bring himself to care as he both worked through the pain and remembered how those arms had felt wrapped around him eight months before. He also couldn't bring himself to care when his mentor positioned him in his grasp bridal-style.
"FRIDAY, tell Medical that I'm bringing Peter to them and we need an obstetrician or somebody – somebody equipped enough to deal with this and ready to sign an NDA, stat," the man ordered.
"On it, boss."
"And you," he continued, focusing on Peter, his eyes dark and dangerous like a storm. "Since when did you have the ability to get pregnant? When did you even get pregnant?"
Despite himself, Peter smiled through the pain. "It's a long story."
"Yeah, well, I got time."
"I'll tell you it later, T – Tony."
Tony. That was a mistake.
Any further conversation was miraculously prevented as another contraction wracked its way through his body.
Mr. Stark cursed, then ran out of the lab and down the halls as if he was running for his life. Peter wrapped his arms around his neck tightly, eyes squeezed shut as they passed by several confused ex-SHIELD agents and a few of the Avengers themselves.
"Tony, what's going on?" he heard Steve ask.
"Is Peter alright?" questioned Natasha.
They ignored them.
When Mr. Stark burst into Medical, there was already a hospital bed and a female doctor there waiting for them. His mentor set him down on the bed, before he began to move back. Peter didn't want him to go.
"Don't worry, kid, I'm not leaving you," the man informed him.
Oh. Guess he must've spoken that part out loud.
The doctor stepped forward. "Hello, Mr. Parker, I'm Dr. Cervantes and I'm from the local hospital," she informed him. "FRIDAY tells me you're in labor?"
He nodded jerkily.
"And how far along are you? Do you know?"
"Ei – eight months," he said.
For her part, Dr. Cervantes did not seem surprised. She merely nodded, while Mr. Stark looked like he was going to be sick. "And how far apart are your contractions?"
"I – I don't know."
"About three to five minutes, Doctor," FRIDAY interjected.
Dr. Cervantes turned her eyes to the ceiling. "And how long are they lasting for?"
"About sixty seconds."
The doctor's face drew up in a grimace.
"What?" Peter gasped wildly. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she said. "Is it alright if I take off your pants and underwear, Mr. Parker?"
When he nodded, she did as she said she would. The air felt cold against his skin, especially...down there, but he didn't have long to think about that as suddenly there were fingers poking and prodding.
"What the – ?"
"Mr. Parker, when I say push, I want you to push," Dr. Cervantes said.
If Peter's eyes were wide before, they were probably the size of dinner plates now. "But how is she going to come out? I don't have a – why can't we do a C-section?"
"We can't do a C-section, Mr. Parker. You are already in active labor," she explained smoothly. "Now, when I say push, I want you to push. Push!"
Peter screamed.
The pain was unlike anything he had ever felt before. Getting stabbed, getting shot at, having a building collapse on top of him...none of it compared. He wanted to die, wanted to –
"Stop!"
He breathed.
"Good. You're doing good, Mr. Parker," Dr. Cervantes said, but he saw how her eyes flitted over to Mr. Stark.
No, not Mr. Stark. Tony. The father of his child. His mentor.
God, how horrible of a person was Peter that he had kept this a secret for so long?
"T – Tony," he cried. "I'm sorry. So sorry."
"What? No, kid, you have nothing to apologize f – "
"Push!"
Peter screamed again.
"I can't do this!" he breathed when it was over. "I can't, I can't, I can't!"
"Yes, you can, Mr. Parker. I just need one more push. Come on, I know you can do it."
"I can't!"
"Come on, Peter. When was there ever something that you couldn't do?" the voice of Tony asked him. Peter blinked. He was closer now, and before Peter could stop him, Tony's hand was slipping into his. "I know you can do this, kid. You just need to have a little faith in yourself."
"Tony, I'll break your – "
"No, you won't," he said soothingly. "I know you won't. Now, come on."
"Push!"
He screamed, clutching at Tony's hand like it was a lifeline, but not hard enough that he would break the older man's arm.
And as soon as his scream ended, a piercing cry filled the air.
Tears were falling down his face as he stared at Dr. Cervantes. The woman was holding his baby, his daughter in his arms. She was just as perfect as she had been in the twenty-week ultrasound. No, more so. Ten fingers, ten toes. Wrinkly but precious pink skin. The little nose which he could already tell was his, though the cheekbones were undeniably Tony's.
"Congratulations, Mr. Parker," Dr. Cervantes said. "You have a healthy baby girl."
Peter gave a watery smile.
Before he promptly bursted into sobs.
"You called me Tony," the man in question said a day later by means of introducing himself into the room.
Peter turned his head to look at him from his spot perched next to their daughter's crib. Neither of them had been released from Medical yet; something-something about how even though he was enhanced and baby girl was looking to be too, given that her lungs had already finished developing, they still wanted to keep the two of them for observation. But that was alright.
It was hard for Aunt May to (justifiably) be mad at him when he was laying in a hospital bed. And it was even harder for the Avengers, who all pretty much crumpled at the sight of his baby.
Except for Tony, apparently.
"Mr. Stark," he greeted his mentor warily.
"Nah-ah!" Tony exclaimed. It was eerily reminiscent of how he had recruited Peter for the civil war a couple of years ago. Except now his eyes were not alight with amusement, but dark and swirling with anger. "You called me Tony. Which maybe wouldn't be that unusual since you were in childbirth, but you said you were sorry. You also said you were eight months pregnant. I did the math, Parker. That's my kid, isn't it?"
Peter hesitated.
"...I thought you didn't remember," he finally admitted.
Tony laughed humorlessly. "That's the thing: I don't. I had to have FRIDAY show me the footage. And if it wasn't for the fact that the evidence is currently sitting in front of me, I probably wouldn't have believed it." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Why didn't you tell me, Peter? Well, maybe not me, but your aunt at least. Or one of the other Avengers. Or just...somebody. Why didn't you tell anybody?"
"I tried to tell you," Peter said. "Twice. It just didn't work out."
"So you decided to not tell anybody?"
He shrugged. "I didn't want to upset you."
"Oh, we are so far past that that it's not even one astronomical unit away," Tony snapped. "You shouldn't not want to upset me, kid. I took advantage of you. I ra – "
"No, you didn't. I wanted it, Tony."
"Well, guess what? The law says that you can't consent."
"The law also says that I can't be a vigilante. Not that I have been for a few months, but still," Peter pointed out. He stood up on shaky legs. "Look, Tony, I didn't keep this from you and everyone else because I was scared of you. I don't really know why I did, but it wasn't because of that. I would've fought you off that night if it wasn't something I wanted. I would've beaten you black and blue. I would've broken bones. You know that I could."
Tony snorted. "You know the term 'power imbalance' exists for a reason, right?"
"You know you were drunker than I was that night too, right?" Peter retorted. "If I couldn't consent, then you couldn't either."
"Peter, that doesn't make any sense."
"Well, tough." He shrugged again. "I'm not asking you for a relationship, Tony. Not now. I love you – " he had the satisfaction of watching a myriad of emotions appear and disappear across Tony's face then, though he said nothing about them " – but I don't think I'm read for that yet. No offense. And I'm not asking you to take care of us, either. I got money. I have a job. I'm just asking you to stick around."
Tony gave him a look, like he would rather be doing anything else. Still, he hesitantly walked towards the crib, where their daughter was still sleeping softly. She hadn't woken up once, despite her parents' semi-fighting. "What's her name?" he asked softly.
Peter rubbed the back of his neck. "She doesn't have one yet. I wanted to wait to see if you had any ideas. Do you?"
"Kid, I literally just found out she's mine. What do you think?"
"Uh..."
He sighed again. "Well, what about you? Do you have any ideas?
"...One," Peter whispered. When Tony gave him a questioning look, he continued onwards, saying, "How about...?"
"Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear Natalie! Happy birthday to you!" Peter, Tony, Aunt May, Ned, MJ, and the rest of the Avengers sang.
Two-year-old Natalie May Stark giggled happily as she sat in her high chair, her dark brown curls done up in pigtails and equally dark brown eyes shining with joy. She didn't wait until after the song was done to blow out her candles, an effort she was quite unsuccessful in. Peter laughed at the sight, before he leaned down to help her.
"You know," Natasha mused. "I still can't believe you named her after me."
Tony rolled his eyes. "And I still can't believe you refuse to accept that we didn't."
The triple agent waved her hand. "Natasha, Natalia, Natalie. Same difference."
"I still can't believe Peter was pregnant," Ned stage-whispered.
"I still can't believe he didn't tell anyone until he was literally in labor," MJ added.
Everyone laughed at that.
"So, what's next for you, Peter?" Steve asked a few minutes later, once Peter had carefully cut the cake and divvied out the respective portions. "Besides college, that is. Is that still going good?"
"NYU's fine. As for what the plan is," Peter hummed, his eyes flitting over to look at Tony. The man was staring right back at him, his eyes filled with a promise for later that set Peter's skin on edge. "Well, I suppose we'll figure something out."
Yes, figure out something they would.
Word Count: 6,255