"Daddy, we 'ere yet?" Peter asked, shaking the car seat in front of him. "Daddy!"

"In a few minutes, bambino." Tony kept his eyes focused on the empty road. Hopefully, this meant the park wouldn't be too full.

"We shoulda 'eft earl–earlier."

"Petey, the park will still be there in 5 minutes."

"I know," Peter huffed, pouting.

Tony glanced at Peter through the rearview mirror. "Come on, we're almost there; no need to get sad. You don't wanna be sad for the park, do you?"

"No."

"How 'bout we play eye-spy until we get to the park?"

Peter contemplated the offer. "Okay. But I get to go first!"

"Fine by me."

They played the game for the remainder of the ride, which, as Tony said, was only a few minutes. Peter's mood had uplifted since his slight incident, and the 2-year-old was running as soon as Tony placed him on the ground.

Peter ran a bit more, arriving at the swings. He turned back to Tony, who was smiling at his son. "COME ON, DADDY!" Peter yelled, waving enthusiastically for Tony to join him.

Tony winced at the volume of Peter, but no one spared them an extra glance. Parents were busy taking care of their children or chatting with each other.

Thank god for that, Tony thought.

"I'm coming, Pete," Tony said quietly. He gave his son a thumbs up before running to him.

"Push me?" Peter asked with wide eyes. He looked up at Tony hopefully.

"What do we say?"

Peter thought about it for a moment. "Push me, please?"

"Yes, yes, I can."

They stayed at the swings for a little while until Peter got bored. Without warning, he jumped the swings (not that they were very high) and trotted to the sandbox.

"Peter, I swear to fu–" Tony said under his breath. Then he caught himself and bit his lip. "I swear to fudge." He followed Peter, who was innocently playing with the sand.

He approached the box, kneeling down in front of Peter. "We don't run off like that. Okay?"

"Okay." Peter didn't look up and he continued playing mindlessly.

Just as Tony was about to stand up, another kid said something.

"I saw you on my TV." The kid was 4 years old.

With this, Peter's eyes tore away from the bucket. "Daddy, you 'ere on TV?"

"It's… I… I'll explain at home, kiddo. For now, why don't we go somewhere else?"

"Okay!"

Tony picked Peter up and situated the toddler on his hip.

"Where are we going?"

"Uh… we're gonna get something to eat."

"Not 'ungry." Peter pouted. "Too early."

"Just for an hour, bambino, then we can come back."

"I wanna play!" Peter crossed his arms, visibly tensing up.

"You can play later."

"I wanna play now."

"Peter."

The toddler stopped complaining, but the pout on his face refused to leave. He also glared at Tony with as angry eyes as he could muster.

They walked for a few more minutes before Tony found a nice, hidden restaurant with food Peter would like.

"What do you want to eat?" Tony asked as he set Peter down on the high chair.

"I wanna play," Peter mumbled, staring at the ground.

"Peter, act nicely, or we're going home, okay?"

He looked up at his father. "Fine."

Tony looked at the menu. He carefully analyzed it, searching for what Peter would like, until his eyes fell on the perfect option. Hamburgers.

Fifteen minutes later, with both their plates ordered, a very confused waiter arrived with the food. He kept looking at Tony, trying to decipher why the man seemed so familiar. Luckily, the waiter never figured it out and walked away.

"What's that?" Peter asked, pointing to the cheeseburger in front of him.

"That, bambino, is a delicacy to this country. Wait, do you know what delicacy means?"

Peter shook his head.

"Food that's important and fancy, basically. And you're going to try it for the first time today?"

"Tas–taste good?"

"Of course it does!" Tony exclaimed. "Now, I'm going to cut this up for you, so you can eat mini hamburgers. That all right?"

"Uh-huh." Peter nodded.

Tony took the plate from Peter and carefully cut the burger into bite-size pieces. He then handed the plate to Peter, who instantly made a face of disgust.

"What is it?" Tony asked.

"Toma–tomatoes." Peter scrunched his face up, pushing the plate away. "I don't want it."

"What do you mean? Petey, tomatoes are great. They make the burger even better. Can't you just try a piece of it?"

Peter shook his head quickly. "No."

"What if I let you have dessert tonight?"

And, with that, Peter perked up. "Really?"

"Yes. But, you gotta eat at least ten pieces."

"But, Daddy!"

"So sorry, bambino, but that's the rule if you want extra dessert."

"Fine." Peter took the smallest piece and slowly put it in his mouth. His face didn't immediately show disgust, so Tony took that as a good sign.

"You like kiddo?"

"It's—" Peter opened his hand and shook it, as to say 'it's so so.

"I'll take it. Let's get to eating because I bet you want to go back to the park, huh?"

"Okay!"

Peter, despite his initial reaction, enjoyed the cheeseburger. Tony thanked god for this because having a kid who disliked burgers was just about the biggest disgrace that could be brought upon the family name.

"I did it, Daddy!" Peter exclaimed, raising both his arms.

"Yes, you did, bambino. I'm very proud." Tony ruffled Peter's hair.

"Extra cookies?"

"You bet!"

Tony called the waiter for the check, which didn't take long to arrive. He paid and signed, leaving a generous tip. And finally, right after leaving the restaurant, everything went to shit, per usual.

Tony scolded himself for not being more careful, for not wearing a better disguise. Clearly, the onslaught of reporters and paparazzi in front of the restaurant proved his current one wasn't good enough.

"Mr. Stark! Mr. Stark!"

"Is that a child with you?"

"Mr. Stark, is that your son?"

"How long have you had him?"

"Who is this?"

"Kid, is that your father?"

Tony pushed passed them, carefully holding Peter to not hurt him. Peter had his head stuffed into Tony's chest, protecting himself from the lights and loud sounds.

"It's all right, caro," Tony whispered. As long as he remained calm, everything would–

One of the 'fruit flies' tried to grab Peter. The man grabbed Peter's arm and tried to yank the boy. Peter screamed, and Tony felt himself push the man away with his spare hand, with all his strength, and then some more.

"I swear to god, if anyone comes near us again, I will personally sue you of everything you're worth. Got it?" There was a certain venom in his voice, and most instantly quieted down. Tony continued walking to the car, placing Peter in his seat quickly. Then, he got into his side, slammed the car door, and drove away.

—

After half an hour of driving, Tony and Peter finally returned home. Peter's eyes and cheeks were red from crying, while Tony's blood was boiling. At this point, he wasn't opposed to murder.

Picking Peter up from his car seat, Tony asked, "Are you okay, Petey?"

Peter swallowed thickly, refusing to answer. He held onto Tony tightly as they walked inside.

"Are you hurt? Can I see your arm?"

Peter let Tony examine his forearm, but besides it being slightly red still, there were no signs of serious injury.

"Are you sure you're not hurt?"

Peter nodded, sniffing his nose. "Scary," he mumbled.

"Yeah, it was. I'm sorry that happened."

"Again?" Peter asked, even quieter.

"Again? What do you mean?"

"Happen again?"

Tony shut his eyes. He didn't want to lie, but was telling a 2-year-old this would be a regular part of his life the best idea?

No, no, it was not.

"No, baby. Never again, I promise. Daddy'll keep you safe."

"Pinky?" Peter stuck his pinky out, looking at Tony with his 'Bambi' eyes.

"Pinky promise," said Tony, taking the pinky.

Peter sniffed his nose again and gave Tony a small smile. Better than nothing. "Cookie?"

"You can have as many cookies as you want."

—

Tony flinched as the phone rang loudly. What was going on?

He glanced around and saw the DVD symbol popping around the TV. They must've fallen asleep watching a movie. His suspicion was proven correct when he realized Peter was dead asleep, safely in Tony's arms.

Tony grabbed the phone, tiredly clicking 'accept.'

"I heard what happened, Mr. Stark," said Pepper instantly.

"Yeah, I know. I should've been more careful. Not the time to berate me, Pep–"

"I'm not berating you. Is Peter okay?"

"Scared half to death, but he's not hurt."

"Good. Now, I think organizing a press conference is the best course of action."

"Are you sure? Wouldn't it be better to–"

"Yeah, Tony, I'm sure. I've already done everything. Just need to get your approval. Yes or no?"

"If you think it's the best option, then okay. For when?"

"Day after tomorrow. Sooner rather than later. And for the love of god, do not show up late."

Tony didn't even get to reply with a witty comeback because Pepper hung up the call.

—

The press conference day came far too quickly for Tony's liking. As much as Pepper's confidence convinced him, introducing his kid to the world felt stupid. Peter didn't deserve this. He deserved a normal life.

"Remember, if you don't want to answer something, just tell me. And I promise you can have cookies after this."

Peter's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Yeah, really, bud. We're not going to be here long. I promise. Pinky promise."

"Okay."

He held Peter's hand tightly as they walked to the stage. The reporters (fruit flies) were already there. Some were staring at their phones, while others looked hopefully towards the doors, waiting for the arrival of Stark Senior and Junior. On the stage itself, there were two chairs.

"Lap?" Peter asked softly once they got to the chairs.

"Of course." Tony picked Peter up and set him gently on his lap. Some of the reporters cooed.

"Listen up," said Tony loudly. "If any of you have even a toe out of line, I will shut this thing down, and there will not be another one."

They nodded fearfully.

"All right, go on, ask your goddamn questions."

They all raised their hands like children in a classroom. Tony picked some woman he didn't recognize.

"Is this your son?" she asked.

"Yes. His name is Peter Stark."

He picked another person.

"How long have you known about Peter?" They asked.

"Since he was born."

"What happened to his mother?"

Both Peter and Tony tensed at this one.

"She's out of the picture." Nice way to say that Mary was long dead.

"Are we allowed to ask Peter questions?" One of them asked.

Tony pulled Peter closer. "Do you mind if they ask you questions?" He whispered.

Peter shook his head.

"Peter, what's your favorite thing about Tony?"

Peter thought about it. "Daddy gives me cookies."

Everyone cooed at that. Even Tony. (Especially Tony)

The questions went on, and no one misbehaved in the slightest. Tony made sure of that. Finally, Peter started getting tired of the questions. He asked Tony if they could go home. Tony agreed in a heartbeat, and soon they were stepping outside.

"Mr. Stark! Mr. Stark!" A woman yelled, running up to Tony. She wasn't holding a camera or notepad, just clutching her purse tightly.

"No more questions," Tony grumbled. Jesus Christ, were these reporters dead set on traumatizing Peter?

"I'm not here to ask you a question!" She said. "I'm May Parker, Mary's sister."

Tony stopped walking and turned back to look at her. "What?"

"I have proof." She pulled a paper out of her purse and held it to Tony. A birth certificate. "See, my last name was Fitzpatrick. Like Mary. If you need more proof, I have photos of her."

"You're… What? Mary's…"

"Yeah, that's me."

"Can I see the–"

"Photos?" May asked. "Sure." She took them out of her purse, holding them out for Tony to see. "This was us, as kids. And here's a photo of Mary on her 22nd birthday. Is that enough for you?"

"Wait, you're Peter's aunt?"

Peter frowned, looking at the lady. He looked so confused, and Tony couldn't help but find it adorable.

"Yeah, that's me," said May, smiling.

"Really?" The 2-year-old asked.

"Yeah, baby." Her eyes went back to Tony. "Look, I'm here because I want to know Peter. You can do whatever background checks you want, DNA swab, all the stuff, but my husband and I just want to know him."

"And your husband is?"

"Ben Parker. He's a cop in New York. I flew here when I heard about the press conference because I need to speak to you. Why don't I give you my contact information? So we can continue this some other time?"

"…Yeah, sure."

After that astounding encounter, Peter and Tony walked to the car.

"Daddy, was she my aunt?" Peter asked.

"Yeah, Bambi, she was. I think."

"We gonna see her? Again?"

Tony smiled, running his hand through Peter's curls. "Yeah, probably."