Chapter Text
Not long after the mess in Siberia, Pepper had much of Stark Tower and the Avengers compound redecorated. But even though everything looked different, that didn't stop Tony from seeing the shadows of his former teammates every time he walked into a room. It was both painful and stressful to the point where sometimes he would go days without eating just so that he didn't have to remember what it had been like when the others were there. Because it turned out that eating take-out all by yourself wasn't quite the same when you were used to sharing.
So this was a whole new experience. Walking into an unfamiliar kitchen was actually kind of nice. Tony sat down at the table and looked around the room. At first glance, he could pick out roughly four different machines that were in dire need of improvement. This was just a SHIELD safe house after all, though he suspected that it was one of the nicer safe houses. And really, considering that he no longer had to share a house with the rest of the ex-Avengers, he wasn't complaining. Sleeping outside in the mud was preferable to running the risk of bumping into one of them at any moment.
Not that that had stopped Steve. No, it was exactly the opposite. Steve was bound determined that he was going to fix things between him and Tony, and he'd thrown a little bit of a fit when he was told that Tony, Bruce, Rhodey, Peter, and Coulson were moving to another safe house. Fortunately, Tony hadn't had to actually witness the fit. But he'd heard about it secondhand. Apparently, Fury had taken more than a little delight in putting Steve in his place and reminding him that Steve didn't get a say in anything have to do with Tony anymore.
He put his head down on the table and sighed. That was true. But it was just as true that Tony still missed his daddy desperately. Fury had decided, and Pepper agreed, that Tony needed to be kept out of the limelight for a while. Others had stepped up to take his place, giving Tony a much needed break. But the downtime was just making him miss Steve even more. It was hard to let go and be Little when the only caregiver around was Peter. Fury, Coulson, and Bruce all registered as baseline. Rhodey, also baseline, had returned to Stark Tower to pack up a few things. Not that Tony would've wanted them to be a replacement, anyway - except maybe Rhodey, because he was awesome.
"Tony?"
The overhead light switched on. He didn't move as Bruce shuffled into the room, but the sound of the coffee machine being switched on definitely caught his attention. Tony lifted his head an inch, peeking at Bruce. The house wasn't stocked with the kind of coffee that Tony liked, but Rhodey had promised to bring some back with him. Until then, Tony was forced to drink subpar coffee or go without. Since the last time he'd gone without was when he was captured in Afghanistan, subpar coffee it was.
"Are you okay?" Bruce asked, taking a seat across from him. It would take a minute for the coffee to be ready, which was aggravating.
"I'm just peachy."
"You look tired," Bruce said.
Tony thought about denying it, but really. What was the point? "I can't sleep," he admitted, which was as much as he was going to say. Bruce did not need to know that he'd wet the bed for the past five nights, or that last night Tony had climbed into the crib that was pushed into a corner of his bedroom and cried himself to sleep.
Bruce sighed. "You need to be Little, Tony. You've pushed yourself to your absolute limit. Your body is at the point where it's starting to break down."
"I can't be Little. There's no one to help me," Tony said to the table, and wasn't that just galling to say. Life would be easier if he wasn't a Little period, but it still would've been better if he were an older Little and not a baby. Add in the fact that, every time he woke up, he was half-expecting to find that Bruce, Fury and Coulson had taken off again, and Tony wasn't exactly chomping at the bit to let his headspace take over anytime soon.
"Setting aside the fact that any one of would help, Peter adores you. He would gladly look after you for as long as you needed it."
Tony swallowed. "It's weird."
"What's weird?"
"He's so much younger than me, Bruce. He's just a kid. I can't put that on him. It's not right." The words spilled out, roughened by desperation. He'd still been Little when they left the last safe house. Peter had been fiercely protective, hovering over Tony and all but snapping at anyone who dared to come too close. At the time, Tony had clung to him, seeing Peter as the last caregiver who gave a shit about him. It was only once he forced himself out of his headspace that cold clarity set in: Peter didn't deserve to have that kind of pressure on his shoulders.
"Tony. For one thing, you haven't asked anything of Peter. He offered. I can't argue that he's younger than you, but that does nothing to change his biological drive. He's a caregiver, just like you're a Little. Age has very little to do with it." Bruce folded his arms. "You know that. He spent all of last night pacing around because he's so wound up with energy. He knows that you need him. It's bothering him."
"It is?" Tony frowned, feeling a renewed flush of guilt. "Maybe I should -"
"If the next word out of your mouth is leave, I won't be held responsible for my actions," Bruce warned. When Tony wilted, he softened. "Does it embarrass you? The fact that Peter is so much younger?"
"Maybe."
"It shouldn't. There's nothing wrong with that. He's over the age of eighteen, for one thing, which means he gets to make his own decisions. Besides that, he showed me the results. He matches best with young Littles. Littles like you." Bruce kept his voice gentle.
"That doesn't make it right," Tony pointed out. "He's already Spider-Man in his free time. Plus he has school. I've already dragged him away from his summer vacation."
"If I recall correctly, Peter was the one who did the dragging," Bruce said. "It's okay to be afraid, Tony. After what Steve did, no one could blame you for having second thoughts about developing that kind of relationship with another caregiver. But please don't be so quick to push Peter away. You need him, and frankly I think that he needs you."
"This is all feeling very after school special," Tony said.
Bruce rolled his eyes. "Yeah, okay, mock me if you want. That doesn't change the fact that you know I'm right."
"But I'm so much work," Tony mumbled, hunching his shoulders. He knew that. Everyone knew that. "And it's... it's weird."
"The only one who can make it weird is you and Peter. You seemed okay until you started second-guessing yourself," Bruce said. "Furthermore, I think you should let Peter be the one to decide whether it's too much work. He's a caregiver. You know what that means. You saw how wound up Steve used to get when you passed the two week mark without being Little."
Bruce had a point, much as Tony hated to admit it. "He could go home and find a Little there. One his own age. Who is cute and significantly less trouble than me."
"Maybe I don't want to. Maybe I want you," Peter said. Tony jumped. Bruce didn't, the bastard.
"How long have you been standing there?" Tony demanded, twisting around to glare at him.
"Long enough." Peter crossed his arms, a mulish pout on his face. "I came down to see if I could ask you some questions about my summer project."
"Great, let's do that," Tony said quickly, because this was not a conversation he felt prepared to have. Bruce sighed and stood up, waving Peter into his chair. Then he poured himself - and Tony, after Tony gave him some puppy eyes - a cup of coffee and wandered out of the room, leaving them alone.
Peter sat. Tony thought he might try to push the issue, but he didn't. He just dropped a college-level biology book on the table and pointed to one of the tables. It was actually kind of soothing in a way, to push aside everything else and just focus on science. And it was comforting knowing that Peter still saw him as a mentor, that Tony hadn't totally destroyed that side of their relationship with his behavior. He basked in the wide-eyed expression of wonder that crossed Peter's face every time Tony opened his mouth. The fact that he had resumed calling Tony "Mr. Stark" was just a bonus.
Of course, it couldn't last. Tony was still awkward in the cast on his broken arm, still not accustomed to not having the use of both arms, and he accidentally knocked his coffee mug over when he went to grab a pencil to scribble out an equation. Lukewarm coffee flooded over the side of the table and into his lap. He froze. Peter jumped up and hurried over to the sink to grab a dishcloth; at least someone's reaction time was decent, because Tony just kept sitting there. He felt like he couldn't move, even when Peter returned and started mopping up the coffee.
It was all just a huge mess. He couldn't keep the sob from slipping out.
"Tony?" Peter asked. His voice had changed, dropping into something much more soothing. So much for Mr. Stark. He stepped closer, hand raised in the air above Tony's shoulder.
"I'm s-sorry," Tony stuttered, pressing his hand to his mouth when another sob followed.
"Tony, hey. Don't be sorry. There's nothing that you need to apologize for. You haven't done anything wrong." Peter hesitated. "Do you want me to go get Agent Coulson or Fury? Or Bruce?"
No. Tony didn't want any of them. He wanted Steve... but he also wanted Peter. And he knew that he shouldn't, and that this had the potential to be so awkward when everything was over, but he was a weak man. He turned, wrapping his good arm around Peter's waist and pressing his face against Peter's stomach as he broke down into tears. Peter touched him then, gently running his hands over Tony's shoulders.
"Okay. Okay, shh. C'mere." Peter lifted him with such ease, sliding an arm under Tony's bottom and bracing the other across Tony's back. He carried Tony out of the kitchen and up the stairs without even breathing hard.
"S-sorry," Tony whispered again when they walked into his bedroom - though really, he might as well call it a nursery. The bed was the only piece of adult furniture in the room.
"I know, honey. I know. Let's get you out of those wet clothes and into something dry. Bruce said that we needed to keep a close eye on your health. It would be really easy for you to get sick. And I don't know about you, but I hate being sick." Peter made an exaggeratedly disgusted face. "Aunt May always makes me stay in bed for days and she keeps trying make me chicken noodle soup... except she's not a very good cook, so her soup always tastes funny. Don't tell her I told you that, though. She'll be mad."
He laid Tony on the changing table as he chattered, undoing the fastenings of Tony's jeans and pulling the wet denim, as well as Tony's boxers, off completely. Tony flushed with embarrassment, but Peter didn't skip a beat. He grabbed the baby wipes and set about cleaning Tony off, then - forgoing the baby cream for the moment - slid a diaper under his butt and pulled it up between his thighs. He knew exactly where the tabs were, sticking them together with the air of someone who'd done it a hundred times.
"I studied a lot," he explained at Tony's startled look. "I told you I wanted a Little of my own someday. I've read every book on Littles from the library at least twice. And I've looked up dozens of articles and how-to's on the internet." While he talked, he very gently helped Tony to remove the wet shirt he was wearing. He paused for a moment, looking into Tony's eyes. "I don't have much real-life experience, and I know I'm just a stupid kid with a lot to prove, and I know you've been hurt before. But I can take care of you, Tony. I swear. If you'll let me."