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Maggie loping excitedly to the door is what alerts Tony that Peter’s home from school.
“Oof, hi, girl,” he hears Peter greet from where he’s lounging on the couch, working on a design.
“Hey, kid,” he calls.
“Hey, Tony,” Peter says, coming into the room with Maggie circling him, nipping at his hands until he scratches behind her ears. He drops onto the couch next to Tony, all sprawling, long limbs, and nonchalantly throws his legs over Tony’s lap. Tony just adjusts so that his tablet is resting on Peter’s shins.
“How’d your Spanish presentation go?”
Peter shrugs, smiling as he pushes Maggie’s snout away from his face. “Fine. I got an A.”
“Good job, buddy,” Tony says, turning half of his attention back to his schematics. “I got an email from Mr. Harrington about the decathlon meet next week, by the way, so I changed your training with Rhodey to Saturday.”
Something about that makes Peter turn his attention away from the dog and look at Tony. “Ok,” he says, voice softer than it was a minute ago. When Tony glances up at him, Peter just gives him a small smile.
“And I have a meeting in the Upper East Side tomorrow, so I was thinking you could come and we could get some city-driving hours under your belt,” he adds, offhandedly.
“Sounds good,” Peter agrees. Tony goes back to his design. He figures Peter will do his usual after-school thing; go get a snack or take a quick nap on the couch before starting his homework. When Peter doesn’t move for a minute, Tony peeks at his face to see if he’s asleep, but he isn’t—instead, he’s watching Tony.
Peter sees Tony looking and immediately turns his attention away, cheeks a little pink for having been caught. Tony chuckles and pats his knee in reassurance. Less than a minute later, however, he feels Peter’s gaze on him, this time unwavering even when Tony meets his eyes again. Tony lasts maybe two minutes before he looks directly at Peter with a raised eyebrow.
When Peter doesn’t immediately give in to his silent questioning, Tony holds out the bowl of fruit he’s been snacking on.
“Strawberry for your thoughts?”
Peter smiles lopsidedly and sits up. He takes a berry, turns it over in his hands once as if considering it, and then pops it in his mouth. Tony watches him while he chews, amused. Finally, after a long moment, Peter takes a breath likes he’s plunging headfirst into water.
“I’m proud of you.” He’s looking Tony straight in the eyes, no blushing or stammering or rubbing his neck like he does so often. The adamance in his words is as startling to Tony as the words themselves. At Tony’s stunned blink, Peter looks more bashful and glances away. “I’m proud of us,” he amends, “for making this work. I... if it had been left up to me, we wouldn’t be…” He hesitates, as if he doesn’t know quite how to describe what they are. “I guess I just wanted to say thank you.”
It's such a change from the playful—dare he say domestic—mood of a minute ago that Tony finds his head spinning a little. He wonders if Peter’s been thinking this for a while, or if it was brought on by something as innocuous as planning their week together.
“You don’t have to thank me, Peter,” Tony says automatically, still reeling, and then shakes himself a little before elaborating. “This is exactly what I signed up for, kid. I’d do it all again in a heartbeat.”
There’s something tender and revelatory in Peter’s face that Tony’s never seen before, but then he’s tipping forward and wrapping both arms around Tony’s middle. Tony responds in kind, enveloping Peter in a hug and resting his chin on Peter’s head. Tony’s about to tell Peter that he loves him, because as much as he tries, he knows he doesn’t say it as often as Peter deserves to hear it, but Peter speaks first.
“You’re a good dad.” It’s murmured into his chest, all muffled and warm and weighty like he’s been wanting to say it for months.
Tony doesn’t say anything because nothing could ever compare to having his kid, his perfect kid, tell him that he’s a good father. And besides, Tony’s voice doesn’t seem to be working quite right. He swallows hard and finally manages to mutter a strangled, “Peter.”
Peter picks up his head and smiles at Tony, this affectionate little smile that makes him look like the sixteen-year-old kid he is.
He leans forward and kisses Tony on the cheek.
“I love you,” Peter says as he pulls away.
Tony wonders if he’s been holding on to that one too—if there had been moments in the past year he’d looked at Tony and thought it and hadn’t said it—because it feels like a hundred ‘I love you’s’ all at once, like he means it with his heart and brain and blood and marrow, like only a child talking to their parent can.
There are a hundred terrible things that have led to this second, and heart-rending, crippling losses behind him, and if he thinks about all of them he could easily let them consume him whole, he could let them taint this quasi-sacred moment with a bittersweet taste that he can feel creeping up from his lungs.
Peter loves him. He has never loved Peter more than he does in this moment. He chooses to be happy and only happy.
Tony smiles at Peter, who’s watching him with an amused expression. Tony’s smile widens into a sharp, mischievous grin, and that’s all the warning Peter has before Tony is seizing his face between his hands and peppering quick kisses to every inch of the kid’s face.
Peter squawks, caught completely unaware. “Wait, Tony—” he hiccups, eyes screwed shut as Tony presses a kiss to his eyelid, but whatever protest he has is cut short when Maggie jumps on the both of them and begins licking them with enthusiasm, apparently eager to join in.
Tony releases Peter’s face and they both jerk away from the dog saliva, wiping at their faces with their sleeves.
“Ugh, Mags,” Tony says, but he’s laughing too hard for Maggie to be even slightly dissuaded. She licks his chin again before turning to Peter and doing the same.
“Maggie, get down,” Peter giggles, actually giggles like a five-year-old, which just makes Tony grin wider. He successfully wrangles Maggie off the sofa, and then looks at Tony, trying to pout but failing. Tony beams unrepentantly back.
“You’re goatee itches,” Peter grouses, and if he was trying to come off as too mature to be kissed by his dad, he definitely failed. Tony just laughs again.
He wants to hold on to this moment. He doesn’t want to just go back to doing homework and having Tony’s admittedly second-rate cooking for dinner. They could out tonight, maybe. There’s a great ice cream parlor near a park Tony knows, they could take Maggie for a walk. He’s about to suggest it when the emergency alert comes on, filling the room with swirling red lights.
“Boss, Sandman is running loose in Harlem,” FRIDAY reports.
“Again?” Tony sighs. He ruffles Peter hair as he stands, tapping on his watch to call a suit.
Then he glances at Peter, wide-eyed and eager on the couch. He hesitates a moment. Sandman isn’t a dangerous villain, really. More of a nuisance than anything. He looks back at Peter, then raises an eyebrow in invitation and taps his watch again. A panel on the wall slides open, revealing the Spider-Man mark 2 suit. Peter’s jaw drops a little.
“You are coming, aren’t you?” Tony asks casually.
Peter must know Tony as well as Tony knows Peter now, because he doesn’t give Tony a chance to doubt his decision by asking if he’s sure, just nimbly leaps over the back of the couch and says with an ecstatic grin, “Of course I am.”
Tony gestures toward the case and Peter hurries over, already stripping off his shirt. Tony rolls his eyes and turns around, walking toward his suit. Before he steps in it he feels Maggie’s cold nose against his wrist. He looks down and sees her watching him with huge, concerned eyes. She whines, gesturing with her snout towards Peter and huffing, as if arguing with his decision to let Peter come.
Tony kneels down and scratches her ears. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of him. I promise.”
She considers this for a moment and then seems to accept it by pressing her head against Tony’s sternum and letting him pet her. After a moment she turns and pads toward Peter. Tony watches in surprise as she nudges Peter with her nose and does the exact same thing, whining in concern as she looks at Tony.
Peter looks up and meets Tony’s eyes. There’s a fire in his gaze that has been missing for a long time, an almost cocky smile tweaking up one side of his mouth.
“Oh, I’m not letting anything happen to him,” Peter assures Maggie, scratching at her thick fur. She presses her head against his chest, too, and then backs away as FRIDAY opens the large glass door to the balcony.
Tony walks out in the suit, Peter tugging on his mask as he follows.
“Ready?”
“Ready.”
Iron Man takes off, Spidey swinging along behind, hanging onto the suit with a line of webbing. As Tony pushes his thrusters faster, he hears Peter let out an ecstatic, child-like whoop. Feeling a little punch-drunk with joy and adrenaline, Tony echoes it.
Behind them, in the open doorway, he hears Maggie howl in farewell.