A/N: So there is almost certainly going to be a lot of domestic fluffiness going on – just so you all are aware.
OOOOOOOO
Peter was still sitting on his bed when there was a soft knock on his door and Tony peeked in.
"Doing okay?"
The boy smiled, and nodded.
"Yes. It's a lot."
The billionaire smiled, too, pleased with himself for making that happy expression happen. He walked into the room and Peter saw that Tony was carrying his backpack, which he set on the desk.
"I know. But you deserve it. Do you feel up to going to the store with me?"
Another nod, and a little bit of excitement. Peter scooted himself to the edge and hopped off the bed.
"Yes. What are we getting?"
"Well… let's go make a list. Come on."
They went out into the kitchen, and the bowls of ice cream that had been mostly untouched were gone. Now that he wasn't quite so dazed, Peter had a chance to look around a little more, but kitchens were kitchens to eight year olds. As long as there was a fridge, and a counter, life was right. He frowned, though. There was a coffee maker on the counter, and a block of wood that had handles sticking out of it – similar to the knife holder at the Tatro's and even Miss Marples – but something was missing.
"You don't have a toaster?"
Tony shook his head, smiling, as he picked Peter up to sit him on the island so he had a better view of what was going on.
"I do not. Think we need one?"
"How do you make poptarts and eggos?"
"And that's a yes…" Stark said, amused. "Don't fall off, okay?"
"Yeah."
Tony handed his personal tablet to Peter.
"Your job is to write out our shopping list." Since the boy had the typical handwriting of an eight year old – despite being brilliant – there was no way he was handing him a pencil and a piece of paper for that particular job. "And put toaster right on the top."
"Okay."
Tony opened the fridge.
"We need carrots. And milk."
"Can we have chocolate milk?"
"Put it on the list."
Peter practically shivered with excitement as he did.
"Meat… cheese… mayo…" the list went on and on, as Tony thought of things that they would need for their own personal meals for the next week. He didn't normally cook, but he didn't want to get into the habit of feeding Peter fast food and takeout every day, either, so what he didn't already know, he could learn. When they'd gone through the fridge, and then the pantry cupboards, he turned back to the boy. "Now… tomorrow the others are bringing dessert, cold side dishes and beverages. We're responsible for mashed potatoes, bread rolls and the turkey. Put that on the list."
Peter did as he was told, and shook his head, amazed.
"It's a pretty long list."
"Then we'd better get to it."
OOOOOOOO
"So… ground rules…"
Peter looked at Tony, waiting. He wasn't surprised, of course. They were parked in a huge parking lot, outside a multi-department store, and the place looked busy. Of course, there were a lot of people doing last minute shopping like Tony and Peter were, so it wasn't surprising.
"Stay close to you?" Peter guessed.
"Right beside me," he confirmed. If he could, he'd put the little guy on a leash, just to make sure he didn't lose him in the crowd. "Are you too old to sit in the cart?"
"That's for babies."
Too bad.
"Then stay close to me, okay? I don't want to lose you, now that I've got you."
That made Peter smile.
"Okay."
"If you see something that you want, tell me. Even if it isn't on the list. Don't be shy. Got it?"
Peter nodded, excitedly.
"Yes."
"Let's go, then."
OOOOOOOOOOO
He didn't do a ton of shopping for himself, and he'd never done any grocery shopping with a child, before, but Tony had a pretty good time.
It helped that Peter was very conscientious about staying close to Tony so he didn't have to worry about him. The boy wasn't always at his side, but if he wasn't, then he made sure to hook his fingers into the metal of the shopping cart basket and walk beside it as they went up and down the aisles. With Stark dressed casually and accompanied by a little kid, no one even seemed to recognize him, so they weren't in any real hurry.
The cart filled with the items on their list, including the toaster, but if Peter's gaze lingered over something longer than a casual glance, or he looked twice at something, it invariably ended up in the cart, as well.
When they'd checked out and had the back of the car loaded with shopping bags, Tony suggested that since it was getting late, maybe they should just stop and get something to eat rather than try to cook for themselves. Peter agreed, willingly, and Tony promised himself they'd start eating at home the next day, instead. A quick run through the drive thru of a burger place and they were pulling up in front of the apartment building, once more, with Peter holding a bag of burgers, fries and chicken nuggets in one hand, and a chocolate milkshake in the other.
"Got it alright?" Tony asked, opening Peter's door to help him out of the car.
"Yes."
The billionaire took his own shake when the boy handed it over, and they headed for the elevator.
"What about our stuff?" Peter asked.
"The valets will have someone bring it up and deliver it to the door." One of the benefits of living in a swanky apartment building. "I want to eat before it gets cold."
"Oh."
While they were eating, the copious amount of bags were delivered, but they waited until they were finished before putting them away. Peter wasn't a lot of help, but Tony made sure he watched, so he would know where everything was.
"We'll have actual meal times," Tony assured him. "Breakfast and dinner, at least – and lunch on days when you don't have school. But if you're hungry, or if you want a snack, then you can help yourself. Got it?"
"Yes."
"No cooking, though," the billionaire added. "Leave that to me. That way I feel needed."
Peter smiled at that, and he hugged himself, again, amazed.
"Okay."
They'd bought a step stool, so Peter would be able to see at counter level when they were doing something in the kitchen, together (like cooking) but it was simply tucked against the side of the island, for now. Tony hefted Peter up onto the island, instead.
"What do you know about cooking turkeys?" he asked the boy, as they contemplated the frozen bird that they'd purchased.
The store – well aware that there were always people doing things last minute – had started to pre-thaw a couple of dozen turkeys of all sizes for those doing their shopping later than they should be. Tony and Peter had contemplated every one available, trying to decide what size they needed and finally asking JARVIS how big a bird was recommended for the amount of people anticipated. Then they bought that size. It was still somewhat frozen, however.
Peter shrugged.
"Nothing."
"Yeah, me either. I seem to remember the cook would thaw it, pull something from its insides and then put it in the oven, early. They need a lot of cook time. JARVIS?"
"Correct, sir." The AI almost sounded amused to find Tony at a loss for something so mundane. "It needs to finish thawing, first. Put it on a pan in the refrigerator and you can check its progress in the morning."
They'd bought potatoes for mashing, but had cheated with the bread rolls, having opted for simply getting heat and serve rolls – although Peter had pointed to some roll your own and bake them croissants and had mentioned they were good when his mom used to make them. Tony had picked up a few tubes of them to make.
"Sounds good." He did what he was told, and then turned his attention to Peter. "Did you bring home any schoolwork?"
"Yes."
"Is it difficult?"
"No."
"Then we're not going to worry about it, tonight, okay? I think it's been eventful enough, for you. What do you think?"
Peter nodded.
"Yes."
"Are you tired?"
"No."
"Why don't you go get ready for bed, and then come back out here and we'll watch a movie."
That would be relaxing, and hopefully put him to sleep. Tony was tired, even if Peter wasn't, and was ready to get off his feet for a while.
"Okay."
Tony picked him up to put him onto the floor, but hugged him, for just a moment, before he did.
"I'm glad you're here, buddy," he told the boy, sincerely.
Peter wrapped his arms around Tony, hugging him, too.
"So am I."