Chapter Text
Tony hadn’t always wanted children. In fact, for most of his life, he was very, very against the idea. Howard had been a shitty parent, and that sort of thing tended to leave some pretty deep scars.
He was terrified that he’d just end up the same way. And he couldn’t do that—he couldn’t bring a kid into this world just to fuck it up.
No, if Tony wanted to do any sort of good in this world, he wouldn’t have a kid.
Except the universe threw one at him anyway.
Peter—all brightness and goodness and light and bravery. He didn’t mean to love Peter. He didn’t mean to claim him as a part of his family. Of course he didn’t. That would just ruin Peter—the last person on Earth who deserved to have his life destroyed by Tony Stark.
But for some reason, Peter stuck around, and what’s more, he actually seemed to want to. As they’d grown closer, Tony slowly began to realize that maybe he was doing okay. He could see Peter’s growth with his own two eyes and he felt pride. And Peter smiled at him and came to him with some of his problems and seemed genuinely happy in Tony’s presence.
They were good for each other, Tony was pretty sure. Pep and Rhodey and even May seemed to insist so, but still lingering in the back of his mind was Howard’s voice, reminding him of who he was destined to be.
But then in a white hospital room, coming away from the brink of death, Peter had all but told him. And again, trapped in a dark cell, clinging to each other because it was all they had left, it had become so painfully obvious that Tony might as well have been hit by a brick wall.
A brick wall that read: Hey you idiots, you see each other as family. You love each other like family.
He was a father figure, and he had been for a decent while, maybe without even noticing it.
And something in Tony felt deeply relieved, because he’d already taken to thinking of the kid as a son, but if Peter thought of him as like a parent, then he didn’t have to worry so damn much about it. He loved Peter and Peter loved him and that was that.
Peter made him realize that he wasn’t Howard, and he never would be, and somewhere along the way, he’d stopped hating the idea of having a baby with Pepper. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he wanted it. He wasn’t Howard and he never would be.
Then Morgan came into his life—into their lives—a noisy, adorable, moody, gross, beautiful, perfect baby girl. A tiny little bundle of a human that Tony absolutely adored.
Peter was a godsend. Tony had seen firsthand and through the Baby Monitor protocol just how good Pete was with kids, and apparently infants were no exception, even baby Stark children who were just as stubborn as their fathers.
Morgan never cried for Peter. It was like somehow, she already knew that he was her big brother, in every way except biologically. It was one of the greatest feelings in the world, knowing Morgan would always be loved. So, so loved.
He needed her to know she was loved. He needed that for both of his kids.
It had been months, but at night, he could still sometimes hear the echoes of Peter sobbing for him to abandon him in that cell, saying that he wasn’t important, as if Tony’s whole world wouldn’t implode without Peter. He made a promise to himself to make sure Peter always knew he was a part of this little family Tony had concocted. And he made a promise that Morgan would never, ever feel that way. If there was one thing he didn’t want Morgan to get from Peter, it was his lack of self-preservation and that massive guilt complex.
They were working on it.
Slowly. Together.
Morgan’s existence turned their weekly sci fi movie marathons into Disney nights, something Peter didn’t seem to mind too much, although he kept insisting that you’re never too young to get into Star Wars. Tony had convinced him to wait on that one until Morgan was old enough for Peter to give her a proper education (the same one he himself received over a year ago). He could Peter was already planning on making his child as nerdy possible, which was far from a bad thing. He could imagine his two little dorks running around and causing chaos together and he loved it.
Morgan would have the childhood he never really got. Her parents and her honorary big brother would see to that, he had no doubts.
They were currently on their fourth Disney movie of the day and Morgan had drifted off in his arms. Peter, who had been curled up on the couch next to him since the moment they finished dinner, was starting to drift lazily against his shoulder. Pepper sat on his other side, asleep, hand still gripped loosely in Tony’s.
Tony didn’t know he could feel this complete.
“I need to get the baby to bed,” he murmured, although a large part of him absolutely did not want to move from this spot, ever.
But he was a full-blown parent now. Peter—Peter had mostly been raised for him. His parents for a short time, then May and Ben for longer. Tony would bet his entire fortune, his company, and all of his suits that no one on this planet had ever raised a better kid.
And Tony was happy to step up in other areas. May was raising Peter, just like she’d always been, and she was doing one hell of a job. Tony had started out, in a sense, raising Spider-Man, providing Peter with superhero guidance, and superhero guidance only.
Now… well, they’d evolved well beyond that.
Peter was his kid, and he was more than happy to be there for every possible moment of the kid’s future.
And now he had another one, one he’d get to be there for for every single moment.
The future he saw for himself—Morgan’s first steps, her first words, Peter’s band concerts and graduation, Morgan’s first day at school, helping her with her homework, moving Peter into college, countless birthdays and science fairs and recitals—he’d never wanted something so badly.
He was so, so ready to be a parent.
And that meant being responsible and getting his kiddos to bed. He’d come back for Pep after.
“’M not a baby, Mis’r Stark,” Peter said drowsily against his shoulder. Tony was surprised to see his bleary eyes still focused heavily on Tangled.
Tony chuckled lightly. “For once, underoos, I wasn’t talking about you.”
“Oh, yeah,” Peter said. He sat up slowly and blinked lazily down at the sleeping baby in Tony’s arms, face and expression of warm affection. “You’re being very responsible.”
“Mhm,” Tony hummed. “You should hit the hay too, spiderling. Natasha told me she’s got something special planned for your training tomorrow and that sounds exhausting just thinking about it.”
“Wait, did she say what?”
“Nope. But it can’t be a walk in the park, that’s for sure. Good luck.”
“You don’t know that,” Peter yawned. “Miss Natasha loves me. Maybe she really will take me… Take me to the park.” He was practically nodding off between each word.
“Alright, kiddo. Sure. Time for bed anyway. You’re practically asleep already.”
Peter yawned again and stood up, stretching. “Hmm. You might be right.”
“I’m always right.”
“Usually,” Peter agreed.
Tony got off the couch as well and wrapped an arm around Peter’s shoulder to steady him as he guides him to his room. The kid was walking with his eyes practically closed and he nearly fell flat on his face when he tripped on the leg of his pants, but Tony made sure to keep him steady and upright.
And Peter trusted him to.
“Alright, kid,” he said as they stepped up to Peter’s door. “This is your stop.”
“Thanks, Mis’r Stark,” Peter said. “’Night.”
“Night, kiddo.”
“Love you,” Peter said, and Tony’s chest filled with warmth, just like it did every time.
“Love you too, Pete.”
“You’re a good dad,” Peter continued, once again half-speaking through a yawn. “Got both of your kids to bed.”
“Thanks, Pete,” he said, and he can feel his throat tightening with emotion. Peter’s never been that direct before, never actively referred to himself as Tony’s kid, even if both of them already saw him that way. Still, it didn’t sound weird when he said it. “Love you,” he said again.
“Love you too.”