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Peter was a flurry of motion as he got ready to leave for school. Tony always did his best to be awake and in the kitchen as he ate; Peter was old enough to not need any help getting breakfast, but Tony figured it was one of those things parents did. He would usually just sit at the table, sipping his coffee and reading emails while Peter practically inhaled a few bowls of cereal and then wave him out the door as Happy picked him up.
This morning, Tony shuffled into the kitchen a minute after Peter. The coffee maker was just finishing, the smell waking Tony up a little as he passed Peter and ruffled his hair.
“Morning,” Peter greeted, pouring his cereal while Maggie buried her head into his side. He scratched enthusiastically at her ears for a moment, then retrieved the milk from the fridge. Tony filled a mug with hot coffee, then set the pot back onto the heater so it wouldn’t be cold by his next cup.
It was an intricate little dance that they did every morning, both weaving around the kitchen, dodging Maggie’s paws and waging tail, but they were good at it, used to the routine by now. Tony stepped out of the way just as Peter spun to add his milk before the fridge door could close.
Except this morning, Peter deviated from his typical course to the table. Instead, he took a moment to grab Tony’s full pot of coffee... and pour it down the sink.
Tony made a sound of distress. Peter looked at him and smiled.
“What are you doing?” Tony asked, staring distraught as the last of the liquid swirled down the drain.
“You already have some,” Peter said simply, taking his seat at the sun-drenched table.
“One cup,” Tony argued. “That’s not enough.”
“That’s plenty,” Peter contradicted around a mouthful of cereal.
“I’ll just make more.”
Peter snorted. “Good luck.”
Tony’s eyes went wide. He hurried to the cupboard that kept his stock of very expensive, high quality coffee beans. It was empty. He turned back to Peter, horrified.
Peter smirked and glanced pointedly at the ceiling.
There, in the corner, was the container of beans, held far out of reach by very familiar webbing.
“Are you trying to kill me, kid?”
“On the contrary,” Peter said, pouring himself another bowl of cereal. He had to eat at least three if he didn’t want to be starving by second period. “I’m trying to keep you alive longer. Coffee is really bad for you in large quantities, Tony. Especially if you have a heart condition.”
Tony sunk back into his seat, looking to Maggie for some kind of support. She came and laid her head on his knee, her lolling tongue getting his pajama pants wet.
“But, Pete, I need coffee to function,” he whined.
“And you have some.” Peter gestured at Tony’s still steaming mug on the table. “I’m not cutting you off, just helping you cut back.” He flashed a grin over at Tony. Tony pouted.
“I could just get in my suit and fly up there and get it,” Tony pointed out.
“You could,” Peter conceded. There was a beat. “But I would be very disappointed.”
Checkmate, Tony thought bitterly. He slumped in his chair and Peter smiled, knowing he had won.
He stood and took his bowl to the sink. Tony took a sip of his coffee, savoring the taste much more than he usually would.
Peter grabbed his backpack from an empty chair. “Alright, I’m off. Bye, Mags,” he said, accepting her slobbery kisses graciously. “Bye, Tony.”
Tony scowled at him. Peter laughed. He came back to stand by Tony’s chair, leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. Tony felt his face softening against his better judgment as he looked up at Peter smiling down at him.
“Bye, Tony,” Peter tried again.
“Bye, Pete,” Tony said, unable to smother the fond smile turning up the corners of his mouth.
“No more coffee,” Peter reminded.
“Yeah, yeah. Get out of here.” Tony swatted at him affectionately. Peter skipped out of reach and to the door, shooting one last grin over his shoulder.
After the door closed behind him, Tony looked down at Maggie as she ate her own breakfast.
“No chance you are actually a super dog and can climb walls like your favorite human?” Maggie looked up from her food and gave a short yip.
Tony sighed. “Didn’t think so.”
“Hey, I’m home,” Peter called as he entered, toeing off his shoes in the doorway and dropping his backpack on top of them. He stopped in the kitchen, dug some Goldfish out of the cupboard to snack on before dinner.
“Tony?” No answer. “Come here, Maggie.” Still nothing.
Eyebrows furrowing, Peter walked into the living room, wondering where his family was.
His question was answered as he saw Tony passed out on the couch, his head thrown back against the arm. Maggie was sprawled on the floor next to him, her own wheezy breathing a counterpoint to Tony’s snoring.
Peter grinned and pulled out his phone, snapping a few photos. Then he tiptoed over and draped his favorite flannel throw over Tony. His adopted dad shifted, curling one hand over the blanket.
Maggie blinked up at him tiredly as he stepped over her. He held up a finger to his lips and shushed her. She seemed to shrug and go back to sleep.
Peter grabbed his homework and settled in the armchair, quietly munching on his snack while Tony slept. Day one of Operation: Keep Tony Alive Forever was a success.