Part of this is taken from idk-bruh-20's Irondad fic ideas #19:
It's an unwritten rule of the fandom that Tony loves to ruffle Peter's hair. One day, Peter shows up to the lab with his hair cut short. When Tony's like ? Where is the fluff ? Peter explains that May only knows how to do the one haircut, from back when she used to cut Ben's hair.
December 16th. The date had snuck up on Tony this year. This year had been good in so many ways. His relationship with Pepper was as healthy as it had ever been, he was in better shape now than he'd been in January, each of SI's quarters had been better than the last, and he felt like he'd made some excellent progress with his PTSD and other mental health work. And there was the kid. That genius-level baby superhero who had wormed his way into Tony's heart, despite all his attempts at staying aloof.
Who was he kidding? Once he actually started spending time with Peter, there were very few, very weak efforts. The boy was a ray of sunshine that had blasted its way into Tony's world without permission or care, and Tony was loath to close the curtains.
But today was still December 16th. And today, ironically, he'd gotten word that they were going to be revisiting the Accords again. They were calling for individual input on revisions, and for the contributing and affected parties to be brought together for a reconstruction sometime next year. Which meant he'd probably be seeing Steve again at some point. And if he saw Steve, he'd probably be seeing Barnes as well. The man who'd killed his parents on this date, twenty-six years ago. Tony winced, feeling a pinching in his temples.
He wasn't angry anymore. He hadn't ever actually been angry at Barnes. He'd been blindsided and hurt, and it was freaking HYDRA, not an accident? His parents had been murdered, by two hands that were right in front of him? He was already in a reactive state of mind after having to fight a battle against his friends. His family, for heaven sakes, just trying to keep them all safe. It was the worst kind of chaos and pain. But when Steve had admitted he'd known, Tony had just kind of lost it. And then things had gotten out of hand fast. Really, really out of hand. He already had so much trauma with people close to him leaving him, betraying him, not choosing him, and here was Steve (and half of the other Avengers) doing it all over again. Even as he fought against Barnes and Rogers, he'd pulled his punches. Even enhanced, he could have hit either of the men hard enough to end things several times. Only a minute into it he wasn't so much angry anymore as just trying to survive, and to hopefully incapacitate them, so the fight would stop.
No, the anger was gone, but the hurt, and the complete lack of trust: those remained. And today was December 16th.
His time at the mansion a few months ago with Peter had been good. Great, even, and he'd laid a few of his smaller demons to rest, he felt. But as he'd told the kid once, there was no timeline for grief, and Tony's was spiking horribly today. He missed his mom. She had been a bright spot in his life. Someone he knew was always in his corner, even if she wasn't usually strong enough to contradict Howard. Even if she was too busy to spend much time with him, he could feel her honest affection and love for him so many times, and he missed her fiercely this evening.
He stared at the bottle of scotch on his desk. Some overly-nervous business owner had sent it to him, and some idiot intern had actually delivered it to his office. Tony hadn't drunk by himself for over a year now. Hadn't been drunk in over a year. He drank very lightly at parties sometimes, but had started skipping it even then. He'd gotten used to avoiding that fog that alcohol gave him in large amounts. He didn't seek after the numbness and the blackouts anymore. He had a certain Spiderling that might need back-up at any given time in the evening or night. And it wasn't worth it to him to maybe not be able to help him because he was passed-out drunk. Pepper was a big fan of the new development, and if she knew someone had delivered one of his favorites like this instead of intercepting and rerouting it as they were supposed to, someone might be out of a job.
But somehow it was sitting on his desk. And it was December 16th. The bottle was staring at him, whispering half-truths about numbing his pain. About taking it away for a few hours until it wasn't December 16th anymore. Surely one night was admissible. Surely this night was understandable.
Usually he wouldn't be alone on the 16th. Rhodey, Pepper, or even Happy had always made it a point to be with him, to make sure he was safe, and to offer some comfort. But he'd been doing more or less fine earlier in the day, and he and Pep had been watching a movie together on the couch before she'd gone to bed early with a developing migraine. Usually if she went right to sleep she could keep it from getting worse. And now he was staring at the bottle, and the grief was suffocating him inside. He knew where a glass was, not that a glass was completely necessary. But maybe just one drink. Maybe a couple. Just to dull things. There was one in that cabinet just behind where the amber-colored liquid was beckoning him. He stood up, and walked around the desk. Just for tonight. He just… wanted to forget. That's all.
"Mr. Stark?"
What in the… "Peter?" Peter was dressed in his warm coat, thankfully, and wearing a beanie. His cheeks were slightly flushed with activity, and he had a stuffed backpack over his shoulder. He'd probably swung here.
"Hey! Uh, I know you weren't expecting me, but May's working tonight, and Pepper texted a while ago and asked if I wanted to come spend the night, and help you with some stuff tomorrow morning." Help him with some stuff? What stuff? What was she… oh. Tony sat back against the edge of his desk.
Peter looked a little hesitant. "She didn't mention it to you, I'm guessing?"
"She did not."
"Do you… uh, do you wanna watch a movie or something? Or you can do whatever you were gonna do, and I can just chill. You don't have to do anything with me." His face took on a determined air. "But I'd like to hang out with you, if it's okay with you."
Ah. It made sense now. "Pepper mentioned the date to you, did she?" he asked with resignation, bringing a hand up to rub at the bridge of his nose.
"Actually, no. I just knew this was it. I… I looked it up last year." He looked so earnest and empathetic, and a little nervous. Tony didn't answer, and the boy's gaze shifted to the bottle of scotch, then pointedly, he didn't look back at Tony. "So, um, can I stay in here, or do you want to go to the lab, or…" It didn't sound like Tony had much of a choice here, even if he'd rather be alone. Dang this kid. He wasn't going to be numbing anything tonight, was he.
"I have a few things I'd like to finish up in the lab, if you want to come," Tony said with a sigh. He tried not to sound annoyed, but he knew he wasn't completely successful.
Peter grinned easily, maybe in relief, his smile easily brightening the dark room.
Tony stood and gestured at the door. "Shake a leg, shorty."
"Mr. Stark." Zero amusement. "I'm almost as tall as you."
"Your point?"
They worked together for over an hour, troubleshooting some issues with Tony's "bleeding edge" nanotech suit. It was nearly ready for regular use, and they were both getting excited about it. As he went back and forth with Peter on some emergency response protocols, (like if he lost a portion of the nanotech for some reason, and what percent extra nanites they should build in to cover most situations, but not add too much bulk to the housing unit) Tony found himself actually enjoying the evening again, and mostly out of the funk that had brought him so close to drinking tonight. In his cheer, he reached over to tousle the kid's hair when he made a particularly snarky comment, but his fingers found rough material under his hand instead of sleek curls. He grabbed on, and playfully pulled the hat forward over Peter's eyes, causing it to come almost all the way off his head.
"Pete, why are you still-" Tony trailed off, his head cocked to the side in surprise. "What the actual… I mean, uh, what's with the haircut, kid?"
Peter sighed, rolling his eyes and grabbing at the beanie, which Tony held out of his reach while he waited for an answer. "I know. It looks dumb." Peter's hair was super short, a little longer on the top, but high and tight on the sides. It actually looked okay on him, objectively, but it was just so… not Peter.
Tony tried to neutralize his expression. He didn't need to give the kid any more of a complex than he already had, apparently. And it really didn't look bad, just… Tony imagined the feel of the soft brown curls as he ran his hands through them, anytime Peter was hurt, or maybe extra tired, and resting against him for their movie nights. Or just when he was teasing the kid and messed his hair up. He suddenly felt a little ping of loss that made no sense. It was Peter's hair; why should it matter to Tony how he wore it?
"What prompted the new 'do?" he asked casually, letting Peter pull the beanie back into his chest, and turning nonchalantly back to the adjustments he was making to the suit's coding. The boy pulled his hat back on.
"It was just getting really long," Peter said wearily, literally dragging his feet in overdramatic teenager fashion as he went over to the "snack center" to gather an armful of Red Vines, bananas, and peanut butter. He sat down with a thump, and opened the jar, reaching in with a plastic spoon. Oof, they were going straight to eating from the jar at 9 PM? There were some strong emotions involved here.
"So, it's not what you wanted, though?" Tony asked carefully, glancing at Peter's face out of the corner of his eye.
"No! Mr. Salvatore usually cuts my hair, and he doesn't charge us much, but he's been sick lately, and he's going to be living with his daughter in Maryland, I guess," he said morosely. Regular haircuts are kind of expensive anymore, but May can just cut it herself, like she used to. Ben taught her how to cut his hair. Unfortunately, this is the only cut she knows how to do." He bit off three Red Vines at once, and chewed them up somewhat violently.
Money (or lack thereof) was the reason Peter's head looked like he was an extra in a 50's sitcom? Well, that wasn't happening again. But how did he do it without Peter feeling like it was charity? He really wished the boy would relax and ask for money when he needed it for something. Especially something important like a haircut outside of May's skillset.
"Does it look that bad, Mr. Stark? That's not a very happy look on your face… It'll grow back fast, I just… Ugh, maybe she can learn to do a scissor cut," the boy muttered, his face visibly going through at least three stages of grief. "Or maybe I can learn to cut it…"
"No! Pete, no. It doesn't look bad. You could probably rock any kind of haircut, kid. And you should. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. It just… maybe doesn't seem like it's quite you , y'know?"
"Yeah, I know," Peter huffed, coming back to sit on the stool next to Tony now that he'd finished his snack. "You're right, it'll grow. I just hope it does before I go back to school in two weeks," he said, not sounding hopeful.
Aw, kid. High school was rough. Rougher for kids as smart and sensitive as Peter. Tony would have to brainstorm this issue. Maybe FRIDAY would have some ideas. Or Pepper. Tony's brain was so intent on troubleshooting both the suit and also Peter's seemingly-small problem, that he didn't think about the date again for quite a while.
"You sure you want to watch a movie, Underoos? It's nearly 11," Tony said as they took the elevator back up to the penthouse.
"Yeah, of course!" Peter said, obviously stifling a yawn. It's Sunday tomorrow, and we can sleep in, right?"
"Yeah, I suppose so. What do you want to watch?"
"Have you ever seen that old movie with the funny aliens, and Will Smith, when he was young?"
"Men in Black?" Tony asked incredulously.
"Yeah! That's it! Ned and I watched part of it on TV the other day, but I had to go home, and didn't get to see the first half, or the last, like, twenty minutes. Can we watch that?"
"Only if you don't call it 'old,'" Tony groused. "That came out after I finished my second doctorate."
"Well, it was before I was born, so…"
"You're gonna call movies from the mid-90's "old," you don't get to complain when I call you 'Spiderbaby.' Those are the rules," Tony said, deadpan.
Peter rolled his eyes as they walked into the living room, tossing his backpack down and heading for "his" room to change into pajamas.
"Fine, old man, I won't call your movies that."
"Brat!" Tony called back, the corner of his mouth kicking up. "FRI, bring up Men in Black. Obviously, a high-quality, widescreen version," he clarified.
"Obviously, Boss," she said. Did she sound amused? All this snark helped Tony see why some animals ate their young. Sassy AI's, sassy kids. Way too smart for their own good. Five seconds later that "sassy kid" launched himself over the back of the couch and nearly landed on Tony.
"Got a second wind, huh?" Tony laughed, pushing at the tangled limbs so they'd rearrange themselves into a semblance of order.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Peter protested archly. "I'm not at all tired."
"You break my couch I'm gonna dock your pay," Tony growled.
Peter laughed. "Joke's on you, since I don't get paid," the boy teased back.
Oh. He was right. Why wasn't Tony paying him, again? Hmm. He hadn't thought of it at first, since it was actually May's stipulation, and he hadn't officially hired him. Then when they finally did paperwork, HR had said they didn't think he could get paid for his internship to count for credit at the high school. Maybe there was a loophole around that. If he'd let Tony pay him for the valuable hours he put in every week, then maybe the kid could afford a haircut. And some other things. Tony was going to sick somebody competent on that internship paperwork first thing in the morning. And speaking of haircuts…
"Why are you still wearing that ridiculous beanie, bud? You know I don't care what your hair looks like."
"But I do," Peter muttered. "It's awful." Tony reached for it again, his eyes asking for permission this time. Peter sighed, and nodded slightly, and Tony pulled it off. He tossed it over the back of the couch, enjoying Peter's "hey!" look, and ran a few experimental fingers up and down the side of his kid's head. Not the same at all. Tony sighed a little sadly. But still, it was a nice sensation, and Peter still leaned into his touch, his eyes closing.
"It's not so bad," Tony said, "and it'll grow."
"That's the plan," Peter sighed, busying himself pulling blankets and pillows in so he had a little nest.
Tony smiled at him, and moved back against the couch, opening up his arm for Peter to lean in. FRIDAY started the movie.
As they watched a "young" Will Smith deal with a whole horde of strange aliens, Tony's fingers found the longer strands of hair at the top of his kid's head, and the repetitive motion of him stroking idly across it relaxed him (and, predictably, put Peter to sleep within about ten minutes.) He'd still have to finish the movie another time, Tony thought with amusement.
It was still December 16th, but Tony had found the temporary pain relief he'd almost sought in that bottle on his desk. But this time it came in the form of a gangly, protective, stubborn teenager. It's true, he came with a mildly disastrous haircut this time, but was still highly effective, and lacked the guilt and the hangover the scotch would have brought to the table.
Tony tipped his head against his sleeping kid's, slipping his fingers through the close-cropped hair, and checked the clock. 11:45. Another fifteen minutes, and he'd wake Peter enough to send him to a real bed. But at least until December 17th, Tony was going to just keep him close for a little while longer.