Since neither had eaten a real meal since breakfast, they were hungry. Peter picked up the remaining wrapping paper on the floor while Tony heated up leftover ham, potatoes and then opened a can of green beans to round it out. Rolls heated in the oven added a little more to the meal and Peter watched with interest as Tony put loaded plates onto the table and a glass of milk beside Peter's place.

"We need to make a few decisions," the billionaire told the child after they'd seated themselves to eat.

"About what?" Peter asked, stuffing a roll into his mouth, hungrily.

"Chew that," Tony told him, immediately beset with visions of the little guy choking. "And don't take such big bites, okay?"

Peter nodded, chewing happily, but before Tony could continue the conversation, JARVIS interrupted.

"Call from Natasha Romanoff."

"Connect call," Tony said, simply speaking into the air. The good thing about having the technical capabilities that he had in his apartment. An advantage to JARVIS running it all. "Agent Romanoff?" he said by way of greeting. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," came Natasha's voice, cheerful enough that Peter smiled. "What are you guys up to?"

"We are having dinner," Tony told her. "Was Santa kind to you?"

"I found a necklace that will go amazingly well with the dress Peter got me."

"Nice."

"Are you working, next week?"

She wasn't one for small talk, Tony knew.

"I have some things to take care of at the tower," he confirmed. "Tomorrow, at least – maybe something on Tuesday, I'm not sure. Why do you ask?"

"Because we want to show Peter his new ball pit."

"You mean Peter Stark?" Tony asked, winking at the boy. "My son?"

There was a startled pause – even though she knew that he'd been planning to ask. She hadn't known about the name change, after all – or that it might happen so quickly.

"You did it?" she asked, somehow managing to sound awed, shocked and cheerful all in the same question. "You asked?"

"I did," Tony confirmed, winking at the boy, who smiled. "And Peter said yes. Pepper had us in front of a judge faster than I'd have thought possible, and he signed off on it. The details are one of the things that I'll be taking care of, tomorrow."

"Congratulations to you both."

"Thank you."

"Thank you," Peter added, roll finally swallowed.

"Peter?" Natasha said, and now she was addressing the boy. "Want to come to the compound, tomorrow instead of hanging out at daycare while Tony's working?"

The boy looked at Tony, hopefully, and Stark nodded.

"Yes. Please."

"Good."

"Do you want me to bring him up?" Tony offered.

"Nope. Someone will come get him."

"Someone I know," Tony clarified. "I'm not handing him over to a stranger."

"It'll be me, or Steve," she confirmed. "Pack for an overnight, sweetheart," Natasha said, again talking to the boy – at least Tony assumed that she was. "That way if we talk Tony into letting us keep you, you'll have something to sleep in."

The boy smiled, hopefully.

"Okay."

"We'll come get him early," Romanoff added. "By eight, or so."

"He'll be ready."

She signed off and Tony smiled at Peter.

"I think Natasha might have a bit of a crush on you."

Peter smiled.

"What did you mean when you said we needed to decide some things…?" Peter asked, curiously.

"I was going to say that you needed to decide if you wanted to hang out with me in my office, or go to daycare, tomorrow, but that isn't a question, now."

"Oh."

"Another decision was what do we want to do this week," Tony added. "Aside from spending time with the others at the compound, I want to spend some time with you. We could go somewhere, or we can hang out here, if you prefer. But we can worry about that, later." Their dinner was getting cold, after all. "Eat."

Peter did as he was told, willingly, turning his attention to his meal. He was hungry, and was a little numb, too. It had all happened so quickly, really. Christmas eve, he was a foster kid, and Christmas day, he was Peter Stark. At least he would be when all of the name change documents were filled out. He shivered, a mixture of anticipation, and eagerness, as well as hope and awe. He would look over at Tony, occasionally, as he made his way through his meal, and every now and then Tony would glance over at him, too, and smile.

"You could stay overnight at the compound," he finally told the boy, when they were almost finished eating. "If you want."

"Are you coming?"

"Yes. I'll put my suit on and fly out. That way I'm not home all by myself, tomorrow night. I'm used to having you around, after all. I'd miss you."

"Can I watch?"

"Watch what?"

"You fly in the suit. I saw it, once, at the expo, and that time at the compound, but it'd still be neat."

"Yeah. Of course." Tony smiled. "You'll see it often, I imagine. So many times, it'll be boring."

"Is it boring for you?" Peter asked.

"Nope. I get a thrill every time."

"Me, too."

Tony shook his head, and then stood up.

"Are you done?"

"Yeah."

"Still hungry?"

"No."

"Want dessert?"

"Not really."

"Alright. We're not going anywhere else, tonight. Why don't you get changed for bed, and we'll try out some of the new toys Santa brought you."

Peter hesitated.

"Can I play your piano?"

"It's not my piano, buddy," Tony told him. "it's ours. And yes, you can play it whenever you want – as long as it isn't the middle of the night when you're supposed to be asleep."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. Go get changed, okay? I'll clean up the dishes and meet you there."

"Okay."

He cleared the table and put the dishes in the dishwasher and was wiping the counters down when Peter came out of his bedroom wearing a new pair of pajamas that Tony had bought him. They were basically sweats and a long-sleeved sweatshirt and were soft and warm; designed for cold winter nights. They were also Ironman themed. Peter also had slippers on, but they were Captain America themed and the gold and red of the pajamas clashed a little with the red, white and blue shields on the slippers.

No sign of Batman.

"Looking good," Tony said, as he walked over and joined the boy at the piano. "Weren't there Ironman slippers to go with those pajamas?"

"Yeah." He didn't expound on why he hadn't bothered to match the slippers with the outfit, and Tony just shrugged and sat down, watching as Peter climbed onto the piano bench beside him. "This is a pretty piano. I like it."

"It looks the one my mom taught me to play on," Tony agreed, running his fingertips along the smooth finish.

"You know how to play?" Peter asked, impressed.

The guy was a superhero and he could play piano. Was there anything that he couldn't do?

"I haven't played in a long time," Tony told him. "But, yes. There was a time when I would have said I was pretty good."

Of course, he'd never in his life ever have admitted to being mediocre at anything.

"Wow."

"Don't sound too amazed," Tony told him. "It's been a while. I might suck."