"Your hands are clean, right?"

"You watched me wash them."

"You haven't been picking your nose since then?"

Peter giggled.

"That's gross."

Tony smiled, and rolled up the sleeves to the dress shirt he was wearing, thinking that as soon as the meatloaf was in the oven, he was going to go change into something more relaxed. He had many more suits at the compound than he did t-shirts or sweatshirts, in deference to the fact that he liked wearing suits because they reminded the people around him that he was a businessman. The t-shirts that he liked to wear, occasionally, reminded them that he was a quirky genius, but now he was also a dad who would need some relaxed shirts out there – just in case anything happened that had him out there unprepared.

First, though, they had to get the meatloaf mixed up and put in the pan and then into the oven.

"You sure you want to do this?" he asked his son. "It looks pretty slimy."

Peter looked at the large bowl in front of them. There was a couple of pounds of ground beef, some finely chopped onions, an entire package of crackers and three raw eggs. JARVIS had given them the recipe, but had failed to mention until that minute that the preferred method of mixing it altogether was bare fingers, to ensure the mixture was thorough.

The boy looked excited.

"Yeah."

"Alright."

He made a motion with his hand, and Peter slipped his bare hands into the bowl making an interesting face as he began squishing it all together, allowing the meat and raw eggs to slide between his fingers.

"It looks like playdough," Peter observed. "But it doesn't feel like it."

"JARVIS? Are you recording this?"

"Of course."

"Make sure we send a copy to Pepper, will you?"

"Yes."

Peter smiled, watching what he was doing, at first, but then getting a little more confident when nothing terrible happened and the bowl didn't tip over. Only then did he look up at Tony, who was making sure the pan was ready for the finished product.

"Pepper is pretty smart, isn't she?" he asked. "I mean, not like you, but smart in other ways."

"She's a genius," Tony agreed. "Why?"

"I was just curious."

Uh huh.

"Because…?"

"May used to say that smart people can't date idiots."

"She said that, huh?"

Peter nodded.

"She brought home a lot of idiots," the boy said. "I wasn't sure if that made her dumb, or if it made her a hypocrite."

Tony smiled.

"Where did you learn that word?"

"Hypocrite?"

"Yes." Peter was a genius, yes, but his vocabulary wasn't at the college level. When it came to math vernacular, yes, and tech. But like Tony was already well aware, Peter didn't have the literature/ English down, yet. "That's a big word."

"I looked it up. One of her boyfriends used it." The boy shrugged. "His name was Will. He was okay."

"Yeah? What happened to him?"

Peter shrugged, again.

"They argued a lot, and he finally left."

"She dated a lot?"

He wondered if this was something for the psychologist to know about.

"I think so. I don't know if they were all boyfriends, or just friends that she did it with."

Tony didn't ask for clarification on the usage of the word it. He knew what the boy meant.

"That's probably mixed enough, buddy," he said, noting that the mixture looked consistent. Gross, but mixed up. Hopefully it would look better once it was baked. "Don't touch anything."

Peter smiled and made a show of wagging his fingers in Tony's direction, playfully.

"You could date Pepper, right?"

"What?"

"I mean, she's smart and you're smart, right? So you could date her. And do it wi-"

"Did you have this conversation with her?" Tony interrupted.

The smile faltered, and he realized that he might have been a bit short.

"No. I was just wondering."

Tony reached for a dish towel, but then decided that the mess on the boy's hands was going to need more than that. He moved the step stool in front of the sink, and turned on the water before plucking his son from the chair he'd been kneeling on and positioning him at the sink.

"Wash your hands." He pressed a kiss against the boy's temple. "I could date Pepper," the billionaire said. "If she was interested. Not because she's smart enough, though. Because she's great. A person doesn't have to limit themselves to people that are smart, or pretty, or even rich. They can date anyone – if that person makes them happy."

"Oh."

"Why the questions?" Tony asked, using his own hands to wash Peter's, and making a point to make sure they were soapy, first, and then rinsed off. "Or do I even want to know?"

Peter looked up at him.

"I was just thinking that if you want to date someone, it would be nice if you dated someone I liked."

"And you like Pepper."

"I like Natasha, too," Peter said. "But that wouldn't work out, very well."

"Why not?"

Not that he didn't agree, but he had to know why Peter didn't think so.

"Because she's an avenger, too. And she's gone a lot. If you was gone a lot, and she was gone a lot, I'd be left behind, a lot."

Oh.

"What makes you think I want to date anyone?"

"I overheard the guys talking about you," Peter replied. "Before I moved from Eric's – and before you took me. They said you dated a lot. And had a lot of girlfriends. But I haven't seen you date anyone."

"We talked about that. I want to spend time with you, right now." Tony helped the boy dry his hands on the dishtowel. "I want you to understand that you mean more to me than anyone."

Which made his son smile.

"I do."

"Yeah?" He settled him back on the barstool. "You sure?"

Peter nodded.

"You could be off with Natasha and Clint and them, going on their mission, but you didn't."

"Because I want to be with you."

"You could be with me and Pepper…" Peter pointed out.

"You're like a dog with a bone," Tony told him, smiling.

"What does that mean?"

It sounded bad, but Tony was smiling, so it couldn't be.

"It means that Pepper and I will allow things to progress between us and whatever happens will happen – and you may not have this conversation with her. Understand? I don't want you mentioning dating, or doing it, or anything like that when she's around."

"Why not?"

"Because it's grownup stuff, and you're not a grown up."

"Oh"

"And, besides," he added, hugging his son to make sure Peter understood that he wasn't mad, or even a little annoyed. These were conversations that a kid was supposed to be able to have with his dad, as far as Tony was concerned. "She's used to being single, and we don't want to scare her off with the idea of a ready-made family. Understand?"

Peter hugged him back, but shook his head when Tony released him.

"Not really."

"I'll explain it to you when you're thirty," he promised. "Hand me that spoon so I can get this meatloaf in the oven."

OOOOOOO

While they waited for the meatloaf to bake, Tony and Peter sat at the kitchen table and played checkers. Natasha had taught him the game, telling him that it was a prerequisite for all avengers, because it would teach him strategy and patience. Peter wasn't very good at it, because he didn't have much patience and knew very little about the need for strategy. He tended to be reckless with his pieces, and almost always was inevitably defeated.

He was learning, though, and more importantly – as far as any of them were concerned – he was having fun. The boy was eight, after all. There was plenty of time for him to learn. They all (especially Tony) wanted him to be a kid for a while, first.

At the moment, though, Stark had something else in mind when he had Peter at the table all to himself. He chatted amicably about the Mars rover project, and then a couple of other classes, and then as he was taking one of Peter's red pieces, he looked at the boy with a slightly more serious expression in his eyes.

"I was wondering what you thought about seeing a doctor…"

"My arm doesn't hurt too much," Peter assured him, moving it to prove that to him.

Tony smiled.

"Wrong kind of doctor. I was thinking that it might be a good idea for you to see a psychologist. A child psychologist," he added.

"What for?"

"Do you know what a psychologist is?" Tony asked.

"No. A doctor."

"Right. But not one that works on hurt people."

"Oh."

Peter was watching him, now, and Tony hesitated, trying to make sure he worded things right, so the boy didn't think that he thought he was crazy, or something.

"They are doctors that people talk to. To tell them about their lives, and what's going on, so if they need someone to help them talk it through, the psychologist can do that."

"Like a shrink?"

"Kind of."

"I'm crazy?"

"No. Of course not."

"But shrinks are for crazy people. Everyone knows that."

He'd seen all the movies.

Tony shook his head.

"Shrinks are for adults who have mental issues," he agreed. "But a child psychologist…" and he made sure Peter understood there was a difference. "Is for kids who have had a rough go of things, and maybe need someone to talk it through and maybe make them feel better."

"I can talk to you."

"About anything," Tony agreed, immediately. "But I want to make sure that you have everything that you need to be amazing. A psychologist might help us figure out why you don't sleep all night, sometimes, and might help us understand some of those dreams that keep waking you up when you do manage to sleep."

"Oh."

"You're not crazy," Tony assured him. "And you don't have to talk to the psychologist if you aren't comfortable with him or her. But it's something that I was talking to Pepper about, and we think that it'd be good for you."

"Pepper's okay with it?" Peter asked, skeptically.

"She is."

"When?"

"As soon as we find the perfect person." The billionaire smiled. "What do you think?"

"I guess it's okay."

"That's great." He didn't make a big deal out of it, though. "I'll talk to Pepper on Monday and let her know you're good with it."

"Okay."

Tony reached out and ruffled Peter's hair.

"You're so cool."

Which made Peter smile, happily.

"Yeah?"

"Of course. Make your move, kid."