That made Tony smile.

"I was thinking that if I became a foster parent, then you might be willing to come live with me. What do you think?"

"Really?"

Peter was searching his expression, carefully, as if uncertain that it wasn't some kind of trick – although he had to know Tony well enough by then to know that he'd never do something so horrible as to get his hopes up like that.

"Yeah. But unlike the other places, I wanted you to have a say in things. So I'm formally asking you if you'd like to come live here. With me."

The boy hesitated, and Tony watched Peter's expression as carefully as he'd been watching his own. It went from surprise, to disbelief and then to a happiness that was tinged with awe – and then, to Tony's dismay – they filled with tears.

"You want me to stay here?"

"Yes."

Peter pushed his bowl aside and lowered his head onto his arms and cried.

It wasn't the reaction that Tony had expected. He frowned, wondering if maybe Peter didn't want to stay with him. Maybe he liked it at the other home, despite the report that Tony had received from Romanoff that made it seem otherwise?

"Peter…" he set his spoon down and came around to the other side of the island so he could put his hand on the little boy's back, rubbing it, awkwardly. "Hey… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

The boy looked up, eyes red, cheeks wet and snot running from his nose.

"You really want me to move in with you?"

"Yes."

He'd thought long and hard about it, once he'd heard from Natasha. She'd been shaken when she'd woken him, having come directly to his place from sneaking into the foster home to check on the boy, and had mentioned that maybe she would see if she could become a foster parent, and try to get custody of the boy rather than leave him where he was, when he was obviously so sad.

Or maybe Clint, since he already had a big farm and a couple of kids that Peter could play with.

As much as Tony liked Barton, and Romanoff, he hadn't been wild about the idea. It took him almost a day of introspective scrutiny before he admitted to himself that he might not like the idea of someone else getting Peter to live with them because it was something that he was interested in doing, himself.

He liked Peter. Really liked him, too, and not just because the boy was so brilliant, and had big brown eyes that were sometimes so happy that it made Tony's heart soar. Peter was good. And deserved good things, and that just hadn't happened, yet. Tony was honest enough to admit that he wasn't the greatest role model out there, but he cared about the little guy, and maybe that was enough to make up for his lack of experience dealing with little kids.

The billionaire had discussed it with Pepper, of course, and had somehow convinced her that he was sincere, and wasn't crazy, and she'd done everything from there. He'd had the conversation Monday, and by Tuesday Tony was certified as a foster parent. Then Pepper had gone to a judge that she knew, and spoken with her, and a couple of city officials. Getting custody of Peter for Tony hadn't been easy, but proving that the boy would be better off with someone who was smart enough to understand him wasn't the hardest thing Pepper had ever done, and she'd handed the emergency injunction over to Tony Wednesday morning and told him that Peter was his – at least as far as foster care was concerned.

Tony had immediately made calls to have his spare room – and the rest of the apartment – made more child friendly, and had then gone over to Marples' house, personally, to collect anything that was still there that belonged to Peter.

He knew the really important things would be in Peter's backpack, but there were some clothes, and he pointedly asked for the tablet, the dinosaur cell phone, and Peter's father's watch. The phone and tablet were easy, but Marples didn't have the watch, and told Stark that quite frankly, she didn't believe that someone with the cleaning company stole it as Peter had claimed. She was certain he'd lost it.

That comment had left Stark fuming, but he couldn't do anything about it. He simply gathered the bag of items and left, pointedly leaving the front door wide open when he did.

He was a foster parent, now, yeah. But he could still be a petty jerk. At least with others. He was going to have to work on making sure that he didn't present that façade to Peter.

OOOOOOOOO

"For how long?" Peter asked.

Tony hesitated. He hadn't really thought of that. Then he shrugged.

"Until you get tired of me, I suppose."

"Or you get tired of me?"

"That's not going to happen, Peter," Tony told him. He scooped the boy up into his arms, ignoring the snot bubble that popped against his jaw. "I'm never going to get tired of having you around. I like your company too much."

Peter sniffed, his arms coming around Tony's neck.

"You mean it?"

"Yes." Tony brushed Peter's curls back from his forehead, and then reached for a dishcloth to wipe his face. "What do you think?" he asked. "Should we give it a try?"

Peter nodded, but couldn't answer around the lump in his throat. It was answer enough that he hugged the billionaire, tightly, and didn't let him go for several long minutes. Minutes that Tony spent simply crooning to him, and rubbing his back.

"Are we going to have Thanksgiving?" Peter asked, softly.

"Of course. Everyone's looking forward to it. If you're alright with them still coming over."

He nodded, again.

"Yeah."

Tony turned his head and pressed a kiss against Peter's cheek.

"Do you want to finish your ice cream?" he asked. "Or do you want to see your new room?"

"I get my own room?"

Tony smiled tenderly at him, still holding him.

"You can't sleep on the couch, can you?"

"I could."

Peter felt a surge of happiness. He'd sleep on the floor if that was what it took for him to be able to stay with Tony. He knew the state wouldn't allow that, of course, and knew Tony wouldn't, either.

"Well, you have your own room," Stark assured him. He set Peter down and picked up the spoon that had been dropped. "Come on, let's go see if you like it, or if we need to change some things up."

Peter was almost nervous when Tony led him across the living room and toward the closed door. He hung back, hiding behind Tony's leg as the door was opened. Tony smiled down at him, noticing what he was doing, but uncertain why he was doing it.

"It's okay, Peter," he told him, a hand going to the boy's shoulder. "Tell me what you think."

Peter peeked into the room, and gasped, his eyes widening.

There was a bed, of course. A huge bed, that was so high up there was even a small step at the foot of it to assist Peter getting onto it. There were a million pillows, and a blue comforter that looked warm and soft. The room also had a desk, and Peter saw that there was a display screen, but no keyboard or mouse – which told him it was almost certainly integrated into JARVIS, since Tony never used a mouse or keyboard. He either told his AI what he wanted to do, or manipulated the screen, manually.

The boy saw that his tablet and phone were on the desk, too.

"Wow."

Tony's smile widened.

"I wanted Ironman for your bedspread, but Natasha and Pepper both vetoed it. They called me a megalomaniac. Can you believe that?"

Peter had wrapped his arms around himself as he walked into the room, not missing the giant flat screen television on the wall, and the small table in the corner near the closet. There were several storage cubicles in different bright colors. He went over and looked in them, curiously, and found that they held toys and games of all sorts. Legos of every color and size, tinker toys, electronic gadgets and an entire bookcase that was filled with puzzles, boardgames and – of course – books.

"This is all for me?" he asked, noting that there were two chairs at the table, but one was much smaller than the other.

"And me," Stark told him, feeling smug and pleased at just how awestruck the child was. "If you're okay with me spending time with you. We don't always need to do your schoolwork – or my tinkering. Sometimes, we could just goof off. Together."

"Wow."

The closet was a walk in type, and there was a dresser in it. Peter opened every drawer and found it was filled with jeans and t-shirts, socks and underwear, sweats and his pajamas – and even a new pair of shoes sitting beside it. There was also a warm winter coat – and this time, he noticed it was red and gold – and galoshes, a hat, and even mittens and a scarf.

"Do you like it?"

Peter nodded, silently, and walked into the bathroom. He turned to look at Tony.

"Where are your things?"

"In my bathroom," came the reply. "This one is just for you."

There was a tub with a showerhead that Peter couldn't reach, and a sink that had a new toothbrush and paste – and on the edge of the tub was a little yellow duck.

"I get my own bathroom?"

"Yup. But you have to keep it clean. We didn't have time to retrofit the shower so you can get to it, but I'll get that taken care of after the holiday. Until then, you'll have to settle for baths."

"Okay." Peter never took showers, so that wasn't an issue – but he thought it might be fun to try. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Tony looked around the room. "Why don't you get settled in?" he suggested, deciding that Peter could use a little bit of time to adjust. "Then we need to go to the store."

"For what?"

"If everyone's coming over for Thanksgiving, tomorrow, we need to go buy a turkey and some other groceries. I wanted to wait, so you could come, too, and help me decide what we want to get."

"Can I help cook?"

"I'm certainly not going to do it all by myself."

Stark tousled his hair, and then left the room, and Peter looked around, uncertain what to do, first.

"JARVIS?"

"Yes, Peter?"

"Wow."

"Do you like your room?"

"It's incredible."

"Do you see anything that you need but was not supplied?"

"Not right now."

"Then settle in. If you need anything, ask me – or go find Tony. He's in the kitchen."

"Okay."

The boy ran his hand along the bed, and then stepped up the little step and climbed onto it. He wrapped his arms around himself, again, as he looked around, and for a moment allowed himself to believe that he was finally going to be happy. With a laugh that he couldn't hold back, he scrambled to his feet and started jumping on the bed, a display of pure exuberance that he couldn't help, just then.

Time enough later to face reality, after all, and he was a small boy, despite his brilliance. Even a genius could be forgiven for hoping, despite the evidence he'd already been presented with that life would almost certainly toss him another roadblock, eventually.