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Tony wasn’t having the best day. Granted, he wasn’t having the worst day, but he was incredibly bored. After that mess with the Infinity Stones, the whole world had started trying to clean and repair every mess the mass… disappearance had created. Insurance for car wrecks without drivers, programs to support those who were left without an income after a certain family member vanished. It took months of hard work to bring everyone back, and even longer to adjust to their return.
Every single day, there were new struggles. Today, it was getting over massive boredom after losing an argument with Pepper over whether he should take a break. Tony had gone to a few board meetings to discuss Stark Industries’ support of different charities to support education funding during reconstruction, then had a lovely lunch with Pepper at some healthy café she’d found on Yelp just a quick jog away. After all that was done, she insisted he take a shower and relax for the rest of the day while she got to work. She did use the excuse of Father’s Day to get him to calm down, but denied any possibility of her making Tony a father anytime soon.
“Too busy,” she said gracefully, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before gently pushing him out of the elevator. “Now go watch TV.”
Again: Tony was extremely bored. At one point, he’d even tried to learn how to make a no-bake cheesecake following a Buzzfeed video. He didn’t know where his measuring tools were and didn’t want to pause the video for longer than he’d like just to look for them, so he just tried to eye how much of each ingredient he added as he went. It didn’t really work out, so he just made himself a bowl of cereal and got invested in Forensic Files on the television. In the middle of his eighth episode, FRIDAY announced a visitor.
“Mr. Stark?” a curious voice called. Tony immediately perked up. Right! Peter came to the compound often ever since… Titan. He and Tony had some serious heart-to-hearts once he returned, and they were just about comfortable with each other’s presences enough to mess around with upgrades on their suits and other inventions in Tony’s lab. There were some issues that prompted May to visit along with Peter, during which she’d go over rules and how to prepare simple meals with Tony while Peter tested out some kind of project.
“On the couch, Pete,” Tony called out to his kid, swinging his legs over the couch and sitting up since he’d eventually sunken down to his side for a few hours. He lifted up a hand in a brief greeting as Peter came into the common room, brows raised slightly and lips pursed as if he didn’t really expect an answer from Tony. “What?”
“Nothing! Uh, why aren’t you in th-the lab? Doing… work?” the teen asked, clutching his backpack straps. Tony couldn’t really figure out the expression on Peter’s face. The surprise was still there, but his brows had furrowed a bit and his mouth was set in a firm line that made his cheeks look bigger. It was the face Peter usually made when he was trying to seem casual. His failed poker face.
“Uh, why aren’t you in the lab?” Tony mocked, raising a brow. Peter’s eyes widened then, and his mouth opened for just a moment before closing again. It was amusing to watch the boy try to keep himself from imploding, and Tony could almost hear the gears whirring, trying to come up with a usable excuse. Before the kid could completely combust, Tony snorted and patted one of the throw pillows on the sofa. “Pepper told me to take a break and stay out of the lab. I can’t do anything against that, you know how it is with women. They know everything, they’re great. Sit down, I’m watching Forensic Files and I swear this one guy is totally the killer, he–”
“Sorry, Mr. Stark, I can’t.” The answer was clipped and short, Peter shaking his head and not really making eye contact. Tony’s barely-contained grin dropped into a disappointed grimace.
“You can’t sit down and watch the rest of this half-hour episode with Tony Stark?” There was clear disappointment in Tony’s voice. What the hell was so important that he'd get ignored for it? “This is treason. A sin.”
“I-I've got, uh… homework. And I didn't eat anything at school, so I'm going into the kitchen.” Peter really had a specific facial expression for when he was lying. That's one thing the mask was good for. “I'm on a time limit, so I have to–”
“Whatever,” Tony sighed softly, turning to the coffee table in front of the soda to grab his empty bowl he'd used for cereal. He held it out and Peter came forward. “Take my dishes. You don't have to wash them, I just don't have the energy to get up right now. I'm taking a nap.”
Peter made a noise of agreement and took the dishes, peeking over the couch to watch Tony lay back down and shift onto his side with another sigh. The man listened to the narrator of the show drone on as his kid padded out the common room and into the kitchen. Teenagers. The only way to really combat his boredom at this point was to sleep, so Tony lowered the TV volume and adjusted the pillow beneath his head, not even staying awake for the end of the episode. It was totally that first suspect, anyway.
“Mr. Stark?”
“Mmh.”
“Mr. Stark, you slept for two hours.”
“Ehh.”
“Oh no, I set a fire. I'm in trouble, help.”
“I've burned. Let me rest in peace.”
“You're awake!” Peter's voice was far too cheery for a grumpy middle-aged man who'd just woken up from a nap. He barely got enough sleep as is, but he supposed that was his own fault. The teen placed a hand on Tony's shoulder and shook him lightly, which earned him a groan as Tony swatted him away. “Mr. Stark, uh, I need help with my homework. Can you come to the kitchen?”
“All that muscle and you can't carry a backpack here? My legs are asleep.” A beat of silence passed, aside from Forensic Files still playing on the TV. Something pointed suddenly poked at Tony's knee and he jolted his leg away at the sudden touch. “Ow. Rude.”
“Your legs are awake, too. Please? Just for a bit, it'll give you something to do! Ms. Potts said you were bored,” Peter said, repeatedly poking Tony's knee through his pants with the point of a toothpick. Why would he have a toothpick? At a pause, Tony moved his leg and sat up again, rubbing his face. “It won't take long.”
“Ugh. Fine, whatever.” Tony snorted at Peter's quiet cheer as he got up and stretched his arms over his head. The teen led Tony to the kitchen, practically bouncing with excitement. At least he wasn't literally bouncing off the walls like that one time when he met Thor. Tony yawned and rubbed his eyes, following Peter with crossed arms. Honestly, he shouldn't be having to use this much energy. "Hey, no running with toothpicks."
Peter ducked in front of Tony before he made it through the doorway of the kitchen, rushing in and out of sight. This homework must be important. And hard. Good thing Tony Stark was a genius. This worksheet will be filled out within the minute. He unfolded his arms and looked at Peter's backpack on the floor, then up to the teen, who had thrown out the toothpick and moved to stand behind the counter with a lopsided grin.
“Surprise! Happy Father's Day,” Peter stated, spreading his arms out to the treats on the countertop. Surprised, Tony looked at the food. There were a few dozen cupcakes in clear paper wrappers, flavors like vanilla and chocolate and red velvet and funfetti. Each one was decorated red and gold, several of them having the iced image of an Iron Man helmet staring back at Tony. He blinked, stepping forward to eye the cupcakes closer. Something registered in his mind and he picked up a cupcake, looking over the Iron Man design.
“Father's Day?” he asked, looking up at Peter. The kid seemed to flush and one arm fell back to the side, the other raising so he could rub the back of his neck. Tony looked at the counter behind Peter, whose gaze had turned to the floor, and quickly noticed baking materials that had yet to be cleaned; including piping bags. Did Peter ice these himself?
“W-Well, uh, y'know, I don't really have a dad. But if-if I did, then I'd want him to be like you. Since you're, uh. Like a father figure to me. Kind of.” Peter started to mumble at the end, obviously embarrassed. Tony peeled back some of the cupcake wrapper and took a bite at the same time the kid looked up at him. “So I made you stuff for Father's Day. Because you're like my–like a dad. Do you like it?”
“What brand is this?” Tony asked through a mouthful of red velvet. Mostly because he was still trying to figure out what to say. Peter opened his mouth to speak, closed it, and shrugged, wringing his hands.
“Uh, I made it from scratch. Buzzfeed videos.” The teen nodded and watched Tony devour his cupcake with his second bite, setting the wrapper on the counter. Tony really wasn't the most open or easy to read when it came to how he was feeling. Usually, he'd deflect emotion with a snarky quip. This time, though, his mouth was full of an Iron Man cupcake and his words were trapped in his throat.
“Do you take constructive criticism?” Tony brushed his hands together and pointed at Peter as he asked. Peter looked mildly alarmed, and he stiffened. He nodded quickly, and Tony would've felt bad for making his kid tense if he didn't want payback for being melted into a puddle of I'm a dad, I'm a dad, this kid called me his dad, I'm his dad. “This is… All of this. It's really good. Thanks, Pete.”
“Wha–Really? You think so?” Peter lit up, hands clasped together. Tony's chest tightened at the grin on the teen's face and it was so bright and cheery, he gripped the edge of the countertop to avoid falling onto the floor. He was weak. He was a weak dad who appreciated the hell out of his son. “Thanks! Uh, I don't really think that's criticism, though.”
“Sure it is. C’mere,” he beckoned, waving his free arm towards him. When Peter didn't move, taken aback, Tony gestured again, wanting Peter to get closer. Peter rushed around the counter, slowing to a stop in front of Tony and hesitating before wrapping his arms around the man and pressing his cheek to Tony's shoulder. “Not a hug. I was offering a cupcake.”
Peter quickly let go of him, looking up at Tony's outstretched hand that had swiped a cupcake. It had, in fact, meant to be a hug, but Tony felt like if he let it go on for more than a few seconds, he'd hold Peter for hours on end to revel in his newly-earned title.
“O-Oh. What?”
“They're good, did you try one?”
“Uh, no, not really. I was busy making them.”
Tony was having one of the best days of his life. As he leaned against the counter, his son sitting on one of the cushioned kitchen stools, he made a mental note to take free days more often. Father-son bonding days were definitely a must.