It's been a bucket list dream of mine to post a fanfic online. I've been closet-writing them for years, and today I finally did it. :) At 3:00 a.m. lol. I am a contributing member of the Irondad & Spiderson fandom now😂 Gotta give back to all those writers who made me so happy by sharing their gifts, and their love for Peter and Tony.
Hope you enjoy!
The drizzle of rain out under the dull gray sky was a nice change to Peter's bland day. The sound of pattering on the roof of the bodega lulled him into calmer thoughts as he processed transactions, hands moving products from the conveyor to the scanner to the bags with practiced ease. He was on auto-mode.
"Have a nice day." He handed the old lady her receipt with a smile, and he watched her wrinkled face light up in return. It was those tiny, little things that kept him going when the job threatened to kill him for boredom and monotony. Grocery Clerk was quite a difference from Spiderman. But hey, it paid.
"I'm taking my lunch break," he called to his manager, Misha, flipping off the light for his checkout lane and heading for the back room.
"Alright. Have a good one."
Normally he worked after school from 3:30-7:00, part-time, but today was Saturday, so he was pulling a 9-5 shift.
As he clocked out he thought of a warm, toasted ham and cheese sandwich at Mr. Delmar's, and his mouth watered. The café was only down the street, so he had enough time to walk there, eat, and come back, all within an hour. It sounded like the perfect plan.
A shatter of glass pulled him from his daydreaming and, still on auto-mode, he went to the supply closet to fetch the broom and dustpan. He knew Misha couldn't leave the cash register unmanned and would appreciate the help, and you didn't earn Employee of the Month for nothing.
His stomach would have to wait.
He reached the aisle that carried vases and jars and sure enough, there was a pile of clear fragments at the end of the floor closest to the door. At least it wasn't the alcohol section; then he'd be cleaning up a red or yellow puddle along with the glass.
Way to be positive, Peter, he thought.
He swept the shards into a neat oval, the one who'd dropped the cheapie flower vase long gone—probably a kid rushed out by their parent. Figures.
A chiming sound rang out and he turned to the door with his pasted smile on, ready to greet the customer with a 'Hi, welcome in.' His smile faded and the words died out in his throat when he saw who the man walking under the dinging bell was.
It was only the person he'd thought of every day for the last three months. His feelings toward him resurged into a mix of hurt, irritation, and something else he couldn't quite pin down. Maybe plain sadness.
He'd missed him. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't.
"Peter," Mr. Stark said, looking surprised to see him. "What're you doing here?"
"I work here." He smiled thinly, his hand underlining the name badge on his stained green apron that had probably belonged to the past five employees. It was way too big on him.
Tony wandered closer. Peter noticed he was dressed incognito—blue baseball hat, band t-shirt and jeans, all dotted with raindrops. The sky had been pretty dark that morning. "Isn't a job a bit old for a fifteen-year-old?"
"I'm sixteen," he replied, and for a second, they were both back there. Standing on the roof of a building, a ferry sinking in the background along with Peter's hopes for a future with his mentor. He'd been lectured for a good five minutes, and then Tony had taken his suit and his dreams and shut them into the trunk of his overly expensive car.
Peter hadn't known whether they were done done then, but he'd treated the moment like it was it anyway. Mr. Stark and the suit went together. If the suit was gone, so was he. He'd stood on the curb in his pink Hello Kitty pajama bottoms and white tourist's T-shirt and tried not to let the shame eat him alive. "Bye, Mr. Stark. Thank you for...everything." His words were both sincere and laced with bitterness, but the man's reaction to them had surprised him.
"Do you think I'm completely heartless? I'm going to drive you home, kid."
"Oh."
"Get in."
He'd climbed into the front seat, careful not to scratch the leather or even breathe on it. They drove to his apartment in Queens in a heavy silence. Since Peter had already said goodbye, he figured there was no point in saying it again. He got out and stood at the edge of the pavement. "Thank you for the ride." His tone wasn't very thankful.
"It's not a problem. I'll see you around, kid."
Doubt it, he thought, his face unchanging.
"Bye." He'd felt like he had to say something. May had raised him too well for him not to say anything. He shut the door, careful to mind his enhanced strength.
The car pulled away before Peter even made it up the front steps.
He innocently thought things would get better after he took down the Vulture. Tony would be proud; he'd let him have his suit back...And things were better, for about a week. The man gave him the 'good work kid' speech in person, and offered him a shiny new suit and a spot on the Avengers. Peter had to turn it down, because he figured that's what Tony wanted for him. And he respected him. He also wasn't quite ready for that level of superhero danger yet...He was only a teenager, and he had to survive through high school, at least.
Tony sent him his suit back via brown paper bag delivered by Happy the next day, and Peter thought that, like last time, the man would come with the suit. But he hadn't seen or caught wind of Tony since. No visits as Iron Man while on patrols, no lab days or fake retreats.
He was gone. Like Richard and Ben, but not dead. He was gone by choice, which was almost worse.
It was worse, he decided on one afternoon when he needed help with complicated math problems and there was no one to ask. Or when he was bleeding a little too much from his upper arm but didn't feel like he could call anyone, so he did his best to take care of it in his bathroom at home.
Three months later, in the glass aisle of the grocery store, here they were. Seeing each other around. The pile of broken vase pieces rested on the linoleum between them, an ironic symbol of their relationship. And Peter was left to sweep it up. To clean the floor till it looked like nothing had happened there.
"You should've let me know you were looking for work. Your genius is wasted here, Pete." Tony looked around the place like at any minute Peter's brain was going to shut down from disuse.
Pete. The nickname made him blink. Like he could come in here after all his radio silence and pretend like not a day had passed. Peter wanted to insult him somehow, like, 'And yet you're here.' Or maybe, 'How could I have let you know I was looking for work when I don't even have your number?' But his ever-polite Parker genes and his excellent customer relations that had earned him Employee of the Month since the day he'd started there won out.
"It pays." He shrugged.
"I could pay you a lot more. Probably quadruple what you make here."
"I don't care about the money." His tone was flat, but the deeper message got across clearly.
It wasn't about you being rich, or famous, or Iron Man.
Tony would be lying through his teeth if he tried to say their relationship had been about nothing more than that.
The remnant of a smile left on the man's face faded, and he looked at Peter. Studied him.
Peter shifted his shoes, broom tapping the floor.
"Are those all you?" Tony suddenly pointed to the side wall where a few laminated, internet-printed certificates were taped up. His Employee of the Month awards. One, two, three, all with Peter Parker typed on the main line.
"What can I say? The old ladies love my smile."
That got a grin from Tony, his face relaxed for the first time since he came in, and Peter's lips turned up in response.
"I miss your smile, kid," he said.
Just like that, Peter's faltered. "No offense Mr. Stark, but I'm not the one who left."
The sting was registered, and Tony winced. "You're still too polite. You should've said 'full offense.'"
"Yeah, well, I can't insult you in case I take you up on that job offer someday and you become my boss." The olive branch was extended, however weak and wilted, and Tony reached out to grab hold.
"Smart move."
Peter glanced at his watch, already changing his plan from Delmar's to buying something from the refrigerated section for lunch.
Tony gestured to the floor sheepishly. "Apologies for my clumsy moment earlier."
Peter's eyebrows flew up. "You broke the vase?"
The man winced. "I came in to talk to you earlier but I saw you were busy wooing that old lady." Peter's cheeks went pink. "I figured I'd get flowers for Pep while I was here, but then I broke the vase and I got nervous, so...I left."
Peter laughed, the weight in his chest lightening.
"Figured I probably shouldn't start out our reunion by telling you to clean up my mess."
Peter looked down at the glass again and felt more fondly toward it, now. "I would've expected you to purposefully break it just so you could set up your dramatic entrance."
"Hah! That would be very me, wouldn't it?"
Peter's eyes sparkled. He'd missed this. His heart ached to talk with the man like they used to. To banter like they always did when they were together. It felt right. It felt...seamless. Like that was how they were meant to be.
"I wasn't lying when I said I missed having you around, Pete." Tony's voice was low.
There was the nickname again; it did swooping things in Peter's stomach. His fingers gripped the broom tighter. "You said you missed my smile."
"Don't correct me."
The teenager huffed a laugh, and Tony's expression softened. He took a glance down at his own high-tech watch, probably a housing unit for nanotech. "I should get back. Pepper wants to go over some boring business stuff, and I don't want her sending the Avengers to hunt me down. Don't think I'll try for the flowers again, though..." He eyed the vase's broken remains.
"No, you should," Peter encouraged him. "I know she'd appreciate the surprise."
Tony shot him a look. "I like how you assume such a gesture from me would be a surprise to her."
Peter giggled. "You just don't seem like the 'bring her flowers' kinda guy."
"Careful, you might lose your three-month streak if you keep this up." He pointed to his certificates on the wall.
Peter waved his hand. "Eh, I can let someone else have it next time. It's starting to get boring anyway."
"I see. The 'nothing to lose' attitude, huh?" He shook his head. "Well thanks for trying; I'm sure Pepper would've appreciated your effort. But I'm going home empty-handed."
"Wait." Peter went to the shelf and grabbed an intact vase, hoping it was the same kind as the one he'd been looking at. He handed it to Tony who took it with a puzzled look. "It's on me," he said.
"What? No, you're not buying this for me."
"I want to."
"I'm a billionaire," he protested.
"I don't care," Peter said.
Tony shook his head fondly, but he didn't try to hand it back. "Thanks, kid. I'll let Pepper know they're half from you."
"Nah, I'll let you take the credit. It was your idea, anyway." Tony looked at him for a long moment, something Peter could only describe as fondness on his face. "There's a flower shop just two doors down. For someone like Ms. Potts, I'd recommend a bold but simple flower, like white tulips. No red roses ever; they're way too cliche."
Tony eyed him like he was from another planet. "You really earn that Employee of the Month bonus, don't you?"
Peter sighed. "Every penny."
"So, white tulips," Tony repeated. "I'll have to try that."
They both knew what came in the charged quiet that followed—the goodbye. Peter didn't want to let the man out of his sight for fear he'd never see him again, but he tried not to let that brokenness show on his face.
"Are you going to be swinging by Manhattan any time soon?" Tony asked, his emphasis on the word swinging clueing Peter in that he was referring to his alter ego.
"Yeah, I think I might."
"Well feel free to drop in sometime. We can look at your suit; do updates, repairs."
He was opening the door, Peter noticed with a spark of hope. Giving them a chance. "Okay...yeah. Thanks."
Tony shook his head. "Don't thank me, kid. It's long overdue."
A customer walked through the door behind Tony and Peter flashed her a smile. "Hi, welcome in."
"Thanks." She smiled when she caught Peter smiling, his friendliness contagious.
He turned back to the man in front of him. "I'll see you soon." Tony said it like a promise, so Peter took it as one.
"Bye, Tony."
He didn't realize till a fraction of a second later that he'd called him by his first name. "Sorry—Mr. Stark."
"No," he waved a hand. "Tony's fine."
Peter nodded, small smile settling in. "Okay."
He watched his mentor walk out with a vase under his arm, back into the rain, and wondered idly how he'd gotten there in the first place, and how he was going to get his flowers home.
He still didn't have his number, he realized a little later, his chest sinking.
He finished sweeping up the glass and then checked his watch—12:45. More than half of his lunch break was gone. It was too late to go anywhere and make it back before 1:00, and frankly, the food on the refrigerated aisle sounded unappetizing. He settled for eating a bag of Fritos and a banana Misha didn't want and downing half of his water bottle, and then he went back to work. He'd stop by somewhere on the way home, hopefully before he passed out.
The rest of his shift was more checking out customers and showing old people over to the sympathy cards, even reading them out loud for one woman who didn't bring her glasses. She thought they were all precious, and Peter gagged inside. For a while up until the end of his shift, he helped a young mom get ten different balloons for her daughter's birthday party. It was menial but simple work, and luckily, with his run-in with Tony on his mind all day, it passed quickly.
He headed for the back room to clock out, legs tired but not as much as they would be without a spider bite to enhance them. He made sure he had his phone and wallet in his pockets, and then he headed out, waving to his replacement, Jeff, and to Misha who would be relieved by another employee any minute.
Before he could get out the door, though, something caught his eye.
A familiar brown paper bag, sitting on the conveyer belt of his closed checkout lane. As he neared it, Peter recognized the handwriting on the surface at once.
Sorry I made you miss lunch.
-TS
He unfolded the bag and inside were two sandwiches, wrapped in the familiar blue and white checked paper of Delmar's. Peter wondered if the genius had read his mind or if he actually remembered over all this time that it was Peter's favorite place to eat. Either way, it made his chest feel warm.
How had he dropped it off there? Was it after he took Pepper the flowers? But what about his meeting? And how had Peter not seen?
On top of one of the sandwich wrappers there were more words and a phone number scrawled in the same handwriting.
My number, so we don't lose touch again.
Despite himself, despite his unresolved feelings all newly tugged to the surface, Peter smiled—a real, genuine smile.
A day later, Peter was brave enough to text the number.
Tony?
He replied two minutes later.
Hey, Employee of the Month.
How did Pepper like the flowers?
She loved them, actually. They're looking lovely on the dining table right now.
He sent a picture. They really did look nice. Peter noticed that they were white tulips, like he'd suggested.
Pep says "You're so sweet, Peter." (She watched me type that over my shoulder to make sure I said it word for word.)
I'm glad you liked them, Ms. Potts.
Now she's asking why I can't be more polite and gentlemanly like you. This is backfiring
Haha, sorry Mr. Stark
You should be. Pep says "No, you should not be." Hey, you gonna come by for that lab time soon?
Yeah, for sure. Probably on Thursday.
Cool. I can have Happy pick you up from school and you can spend the evening here, if your aunt's alright with it. Then you don't have to change out of your suit to do updates and stuff
We can do pizza and a movie too, if you want, he added. Aw, Pepper says I'm lonely.
Peter didn't want the man to have him over just because he felt bad.
Are you sure? You don't have to do all that
His reply was immediate.
Positive, Pete. I want to.
Okay. That sounds good, then.
Great. Happy'll be there at 3:00
Thanks. You know I could take the subway though, right?
I know. But Happy's missed you.
You're joking.
Nope, it's true. I'm actually not BSing for once—he's mentioned on more than one occasion that it's quiet without you around.
You sure he wasn't saying that because he's glad I'm not around?
Trust me, he wouldn't even bother to bring you up if he really hated you, kid
I'm still not buying it.
You'll see. If he asks you questions on the drive over, you'll know I'm telling the truth. If he really does hate you, he won't say a word.
Alright...we'll see.
When Peter found Happy's car after school on Thursday, he braced himself for Tony's secret test. If he asked questions, they were good. If not...
He got in the back seat and Happy turned to give him his closest thing to a smile, which was a little more than a grimace.
"Hey, kid. Long time no see."
"Yeah, it's been a while." He set his backpack on the floor by his feet and put his seatbelt on, and then Happy pulled the car away from the curb.
Peter's stomach was doing nervous things, but he told himself to relax. It was just Happy.
Silence.
The car was dead silent for a solid fifteen minutes, in which Peter got progressively more anxious and eager to get out of the car. He stared out the window with his hands folded in his lap, his lips in a thin line.
Happy hated him. It was official. As disappointing as it was to know, he couldn't wait to tell Tony he was completely wrong about everything. That would at least get him some satisfaction out of this whole ordeal.
They pulled into the tower's underground parking, Peter ready to grab his bag and jump out of the car before they even came to a full stop.
Happy braked, Peter undid his seatbelt, and he grabbed his backpack in one hand, his other on the door handle.
"Hey, Peter."
He stopped to hear Happy call him anything but kid, his eyes widening as the driver turned around in his seat to face him. "It's good to see you again." Peter's tense shoulders relaxed, his hand loosening its vice grip on the metal of the handle. "It's been too quiet without you around."
"It's good to see you too, Happy." He smiled. "Thanks for the ride."
"Yeah, no problem. Anytime." Happy cleared his throat to excuse him, and then he got out of the car, waving before walking up to the private access elevator.
It took him up a couple dozen stories and let him off at the penthouse where Tony was waiting for him in the kitchen, eating some kind of sandwich.
"Hey, Tony."
He tried to hide how nervous he felt to be around the man like this. It was so much more casual than he was used to. So...normal. Like this was a usual routine for them.
"Hey, Pete. I got some for you too." He gestured to his sandwich, sliding a couple wrapped ones across the counter. "Dig in. So, did Hap ask you all the questions like I said he would?"
Peter thought back to that terror of a car ride and snorted. "No. He didn't ask me a single one."
Tony's whole body winced, his face pulling into a cringe. "Oh, crap. Sorry."
"But you were right, he did miss me."
The man's face recovered, eyebrows raising. "Yeah?"
"He said it was good to see me again, and that it was too quiet without me." He smiled. "Just like you said."
Tony breathed out in relief. "See? What'd I tell you? The man's a softie."
"Yeah, but your plan failed epically. I spent the whole ride sure that he hated my guts."
Tony smothered a laugh. "Sorry, kid. Forgot to mention it wasn't foolproof. So how's work been?"
Peter sat down at a stool with a sigh. "I got fired."
"What?" Disbelief filled his face. "How?"
He smirked without feeling. "They saw me passing merchandise to a customer to steal on the security feed."
Tony's mouth dropped open. "No."
"Yeah. I tried to tell them I paid for it with my own money, but they didn't believe me. And I thought Employee of the Month meant something." He folded his arms. "This is New York, for crying out loud. It's just a stupid three-dollar vase. If that's the worst I ever do, I'm still an angel."
Tony couldn't help but laugh. "Geez. Sorry."
"It's not your fault; I chose to do it."
"Kid, I feel bad. You gotta let me give you a job, now."
Peter pretended to think about it as he unwrapped his first sandwich. "Mm, okay," he accepted, and Tony lifted his hands.
"Really? Just like that?"
Peter picked up his sandwich carefully, trying to keep all the toppings from falling off. "Yeah. But I expect at least quadruple pay." Tony barked a laugh. "And while we're at it, I'm going to need full medical coverage. You know—Spider-Man-related injuries."
"Full coverage? Isn't that a little much?"
He shrugged. "You broke my vase and got me fired."
"You just said it wasn't my fault!" Tony spoke vehemently with his mouth half full.
"And you ditched me, so..."
Tony swallowed his bite and shook his head at him. "I've corrupted you, Parker."
"Nah, you've taught me."
"I'm not sure there's a difference with me. But you do know you have total access to the MedBay anyway, right? Free of charge?"
"Oh. Really?" He stuffed the rest of the lettuce leaf falling out of his mouth in.
Tony paled, and he set his sandwich down. "How many injuries have you treated in your bathroom at home?"
Peter shrugged a little. "Uh...I'm all good now?"
The man covered his face with a hand, the other arm folded over his middle. "Peter, I swear..."
"Well, you left! I wasn't going to just call you up and be like, 'Hey, I got stabbed, can you come pick me up?'"
The stricken look on Tony's face told him he was in for trouble. "You were stabbed?"
"Sort of. I mean, it was more like a bad cut. It was fine! I put pressure on it, stopped the bleeding and everything, and then my fast healing did the rest."
"Kid..." He ran both hands over his face, and Peter did his best to look innocent.
"I would've called you if I was dying or something."
"Would you?" Tony's tone took a serious turn, his eyes sharp. "How would you even know if you were dying? What if you were too out of it to call me?" Peter looked down at the counter, and the man let out a sigh.
"I'm sorry, it's..." He didn't finish. Peter wasn't used to hearing him be so apologetic. It wasn't like the Tony he knew.
"Wouldn't Karen tell you if things were that bad?" Peter asked lightly.
"Yeah, you're right." He lowered his voice from earlier. "I just...wouldn't want her to be too late."
Peter nodded, and his words from after the ferry came rushing back. If you died, I feel like that's on me.
The man leveled with him. "I was obviously unclear about this before, but no matter what happens between us I want you to call me if you're hurt. Okay?"
Peter's cheeks went pink. "Okay."
He settled for eating his sandwich for a little while, Tony seeming to have suddenly lost his appetite. He stared out the window instead, sipping at his water.
"You know, you lied when you came into the store pretending not to know I worked there. How did you actually know? Did you look it up, somehow? City employment records?"
Tony looked a little chastised. "Actually, I talked to May."
Peter blinked. That was not the answer he'd been expecting.
"I called her and told her I wanted to fix things with you, and asked her where I could find you. School's too crowded and full of kids with phones, and I didn't want to spring you at your apartment like I did the first time we met...Didn't want to do it as Iron Man either, so that ruled out patrols. So work seemed like the best place."
Peter was touched at the thought he put into talking to him. It almost made up for the three months he hadn't heard a single word from the man. "That's...very thoughtful, but...why did you disappear in the first place?" Something panged in Tony's expression. "You know, I failed two questions on my AP Calculus II test because I didn't have a genius around." It was only partially a joke, but he really had wished Tony was there. He liked learning from him, partly because it reminded him of when Ben used to help him with homework.
"I'm sorry, bud, I—" His soft tone and the sudden term of endearment took them both by surprise. Peter stared at him, heart thudding, half-eaten sandwich heavy in his hands. Tony looked at him, struggling to know whether to apologize or keep going like it hadn't happened. He decided to keep on with it. "I didn't want you to get hurt by me, so I cut it off before that could happen. It was a stupid idea, obviously, but...I didn't know what else to do." His eyes showed a glint of vulnerability that Peter pressed on.
"What to do about what?"
He looked at Peter differently for a moment. The look in his eyes was heavier than normal, and it made Peter set his sandwich down, realizing this was a vital moment.
"How I felt," he said simply.
Peter knew the words weren't comfortable to the man, but he waited patiently, hoping he'd finish. When he spoke again, the quiet severity of his tone caught Peter's attention.
"Peter, I care about you. I don't want anything to happen to you. But I didn't realize that leaving you would hurt you even more." He looked at him seriously. Remorsefully. "Your aunt called me first."
Peter's heart dropped. "What?"
"She asked me why her nephew was suddenly upset. Why he was depressed, why he wasn't talking as much, why he was so closed off." Tony's eyes shone with guilt, something Peter had never seen in him before. "I, being the idiot I am, wondered if it had to do with patrol injuries, or school, or just being a teenager." He took a shaky breath. "I didn't realize I was causing all that. I didn't even know...but May knew. She'd traced it back to the day I dropped off the face of the earth, and she accused me of ruining you." He laughed a little, his voice catching in an odd way, and Peter felt icy shock fill his chest. Was he going to cry..?
"She told me that you'd already lost two fathers and that if I was trying to pull the same stunt, she would...well, she'd basically kill me."
Peter let out a choked laugh, his voice sounding strangled to his own ears. "That sounds like May."
"Yeah. Well, I deserved it. She said I had obviously led you on for you to be acting so unlike yourself, but I didn't even know what I was doing. I didn't realize that I couldn't just pretend that you were my intern or protege while I was treating you like my kid." Peter's throat felt tight. There was more emotion coming from Tony than he could handle. So many personal things that he'd said about Peter, that he knew about him. He knew he'd been depressed when he left. He knew Peter had gotten quieter. He knew all those intimate details, and there was no going back from that. He'd never felt so seen by the man. It was unnerving, and a vulnerable place to be. "I left because I had no idea what I was doing, and I thought I was going to ruin you. My dad sucked, and I didn't want to be that for you. So I figured nothing was better than...this." He gestured to himself.
Peter shook his head, forcing the moisture in his eyes to stay back. "You're not as bad as you think." He gave a short laugh, and Tony's eyes sparkled. "I just shouldn't have expected you to be more than my mentor when that's not what you signed up for. I'm sorry."
"No, don't apologize." Tony's voice was firm. It wasn't up for debate.
"But you—"
"—I took the risk of coming to you. I did enough research to know your family situation; I should've realized what would happen. But I'm not sorry about it."
"What?" A sliver of hope pierced Peter's chest.
"I would never change what happened. Getting to meet you, mentor you...get you fired," Tony smiled as Peter let out a light laugh. "It's been one of the best things that's happened to me. And I want you to know, I'm staying this time."
Peter's heart beat harder in his chest, his hands feeling cold.
"What? Like..."
"Forever. If you want me to."
Forever. The word rang in Peter's head, much different from Tony's last forever when he took Peter's suit and walked away. He wondered if the man really knew what he was getting into. He swallowed thickly. "You don't have to just because you feel bad for me."
"I do feel bad for you," Tony said plainly, "but that's not why I'm doing this. I want to. I don't do anything I don't want to do, kid."
It was Peter's turn to reciprocate. To answer the offer. "But what are you...going to be? You know, to me?"
"Whatever you want me to be. You deserve that much, Pete."
Tears welled up in Peter's eyes and spilled over. Tony's face twisted as he watched him cry, the counter still wedged between them. Something always was—the glass on the floor, the suit, the counter. Symbolic blocks they could never quite get past. Peter wiped at his tears futilely, each one replaced by another, and Tony couldn't stand there and watch anymore. He moved around the counter, removing the last barrier between them, and rested a warm hand on Peter's shoulder. "Hey, bud. It's okay."
Peter turned to him, face breaking up, and he wanted to seek comfort in the man but didn't know if he could.
Luckily, Tony was one step ahead of him. He tugged Peter to him, hands moving from his shoulders to his back, holding him firmly against his chest. "We're there," he murmured.
Those two simple words were all it took for Peter to sink into the man's arms. He held on tightly, careful not to hold too tight with his enhanced strength, his face buried in his shirt. This was all he'd wanted but hadn't admitted to anyone for the last few months. A piece of him had died when he thought that Tony was permanently gone from his life, but now, he felt like he could be whole again.
He cried a little longer with Tony holding him, until he slowly got his breathing under control. "Did your dad ever do this?" Peter asked, and he pulled away to see the man's face. There was surprise there from his question, and also some deeper pain that he kept lidded underneath. Pain he'd probably never let anyone see before.
"Not that I can remember," he answered quietly, and Peter's heart sank.
"Then you're not like him."
"Huh?" His eyebrows knitted.
"You were worried you'd be like him, but you're not."
Tony laughed quietly, wistful smile pulling on his lips, and he ruffled Peter's hair affectionately with a hand. "Your genius and goodness is a scary combo."
Peter shrugged a shoulder innocently. "I'm just doing what you told me to."
"What..?" The man looked confused.
"Be better than you."
Tony deadpanned as he shoved his arm hard, making Peter grin. He went to take a drink of water, his eyes rolling over the rim of his glass. Peter reveled in his perfect jab proudly.
His eyes fell on his mostly-eaten sandwich, mind turning. "So you meant it about me being here more often?"
"Yeah. There's still much corruption to be done. I mean, teaching. Plus I think I owe you some lab time and movie nights for leaving you in the dust three months ago."
"True."
"But you have to follow my rules." Peter rolled his eyes, knowing full well where this was going. "No hacking the suit again." Tony leveled him with a look. "If you need help or you're hurt, call me. For heaven's sake, Peter, please call me. I have a bad heart as it is, I don't need you shortening its life."
"So that's it? Just keep the safety rules?"
Tony squinted up at the ceiling for a second. "Yeah. That sounds good. But break my rules, and I'm going to have to get your aunt involved."
"Savage," Peter muttered.
"Call it incentive." Tony nudged his shoulder. "Hey. It's only to keep you safe."
"Yeah, yeah..."
"C'mere." Tony tugged him into a hug again, and Peter happily accepted the affection. "How many more of these do I owe you? Or how often do dads do this sort of thing?"
Peter shrugged a shoulder, mind running the dad word over and over. "I mean, I'd take one every time I come over."
"That many? Wow. This is going to be a long...forever," he joked, and Peter laughed.
"It was your idea."
"I know. Gosh, I'm going to be so soft by the end of this."