Chapter Text
When May Parker died on a seemingly innocuous Thursday after ingesting improperly cooked puffer fish at one of New York's finest eateries, the first thing that Tony did (after suing the restaurant for all it was worth) was talk to Pepper.
He paced up and down their room, occasionally checking with FRIDAY to make sure that the kid - who had cried himself to sleep - was safe in the guest room. Eventually, after Pepper's seventeenth sigh (he was counting), he stopped right in front of her, dropped down to one knee, and declared:
"I'm adopting him." Saying the words out loud had a finality that Tony didn't expect. "The paperwork's already here, so all I have to do is give my signature. I know that you didn't sign up for this, for any of this, and we're gonna have a lot of lifestyle changes, and I need to baby-proof the Tower, but...." He cleared his throat, staring at her lap. "I'm adopting him."
And Pepper, bless her soul, just gave him a look through watery blue eyes that screamed of-course-you-dingus and nodded, pressing a kiss to his head.
"We're adopting him." She corrected, taking in her betrothed's (she'd been around Thor for way too long) wide eyes and open mouth. After everything they had been through, how could he possibly think that she wouldn't be in his corner? But then she realized that Tony had relied on himself and only himself his entire life, and the one time that he had let people in, it had backfired in the worst way possible.
Steve Rogers was definitely persona-non-grata in her book. (And she had several of them).
"He's a good kid." She told him, pulling him up until they were standing. Pepper looped her arms around his neck, pressing her head to the covered metal on his chest, taking comfort in the soft whirs she heard.
"The best." Tony muttered, his hands resting on her waist. "He doesn't deserve this, Pep. He's only fifteen! He's all that's good in the world, sunshine and happiness rolled up into a five-foot-seven ball of energy."
She opened her mouth to say something, but went on. "And now he's alone again, scared and hurting. God Pepper!" Tony let go of her and sat down on the bed, his head in his hands. "Why do bad things happen to good people?"
"He's not alone, Tony." Pepper sat next to him, taking his hand in hers. "He has you."
He snorted in that self-deprecating way that Pepper hated.
"He has you." She repeated firmly. "And me, and his friend Ned. Even Bruce and Rhodey care about him, you know they do. Yes he's scared, and yes, he's hurting, but with our help, he'll be alright. I promise."
"We're not his parents, Pep." Tony whispered harshly. "I don't know how to be a dad. I'm not even a good human being! He knows that. I can't be there for him like May and Ben were. I can't sprout words of love and affection because I don't feel - "
"Stop right there." Pepper commanded, turning Tony's head until he was looking at her. "Don't you dare tell me that you don't care for him. Because I know when you're lying Anthony, and you can't lie about this."
"I can't be his father." Tony swallowed the lump in his throat and ignored the tightening in his chest. He wasn't blind. He knew just how much the kid looked up to him. He was also well aware that in the seven months or so that he'd been around the kid, Peter had grown on him, crawled under his skin and into his heart, burrowing himself so deeply that he could never be extracted.
But he couldn't be what Peter needed. How could he when Tony had no idea what it was like to have a dad. Howard Stark's parenting style had been hands-off to say the least, non-existent to be honest. Tony had grown up alone, essentially raising himself - with his parents floating around in the periphery, always there whenever he screwed up and not a moment before.
"Be what you can to him." Pepper said in that infuriatingly calm voice of hers. "But be there for him, Tony. Because he needs you, whether he says it or not."
And Tony just nodded silently, his mind whizzing at a breakneck speed.
Pepper was right. Of course she was. Tony couldn't be Peter's dad, but he could be someone that supported him, gave him a shoulder to lean on, who was there when it mattered, who would pick him up when he fell down, guide him in the right direction.
Like a mentor.
Exactly like a mentor.
Nothing more, nothing less.
(Telling himself that didn't make it the truth).
I.
A week into Peter's stay with him, Tony realized that keeping things professional with the kid was impossible.
He'd expected Peter to push him away, to sulk and scream and do everything he could to leave. But as usual, Peter had a way of bucking every expectation. He'd been quiet, almost unnaturally so, after the funeral. He agreed to everything that Tony said with a yes Mr. Stark, movements mechanical and devoid of any emotion. It was so completely un-Peter, that Tony was worried.
And when Tony worried, good things tended not to happen.
It had taken seven days, but Peter was finally moving into the Tower. Officially, that it. His days in the guest room were over. The apartment in Queens was paid off, as were May's debts, and all loose ends were tied. Peter Parker's new guardian was officially Tony Stark, and the kid was too caught up in the events of the past week to really have that information sink in.
At least, that's what Tony believed.
He was scrutinizing his ward carefully, observing how Peter watched as all of his meager belongings were transferred into a room (the room that Tony had designed for Peter long before May had died) with detached, glazed eyes, watched as Tony's trusted staff set up his things in the ultra-modern, every-teenager's-wet-dream bedroom, before turning on his heels, and running straight past Tony (who was supervising) into the bathroom, to hurl the contents of his stomach into the toilet.
His feet carried him to Peter before his mind caught up, one hand running a hand over the boy's back, murmuring soothing things that didn't make sense to his own ears. He winced when the kid dry heaved several times, tears running down his face.
"I'm sorry Mr. Stark! I didn't mean to do that! I thought I could keep it in but then I saw the picture of Au...Aunt May and me and I just....I- "
"Shut up." Tony cut off Peter's hysterical babbling gruffly, staring into terrified, wet brown eyes that reminded him of a puppy's. A kicked puppy's. Truth be told though, Tony was glad that Peter still was capable of talking a hundred miles a second. It reminded him of what the boy had been like before all of this.
"I'm sorry." The kid mumbled, pushing himself up so he could stumble blindly to the sink and clean up.
"Stop apologizing." Tony glared at Peter who looked at him through the mirror. Jesus the kid looked like hell. Those normally vibrant eyes were dull and forlorn, his hair limp and slightly greasy. The clothes he was wearing looked to be baggier than usual. He stood with a hunch, his shoulders sagging, face completely pale.
"C'mere kid." Tony didn't give Peter a chance to protest, pulling him into a hug. His arms wrapped around the boy's shorter frame tightly, not even flinching when Peter's unnaturally strong limbs hugged him right back, clutching his shirt, wetness seeping through the material.
They didn't loosen their hold on each other for a while, not until Peter let out a garbled cough.
"We're there now, Mr. Stark. Right?" Peter's words were muffled by Tony's shirt, but he heard them nonetheless.
Tony just snorted. "Yeah underoos. We're there."
Peter remained silent, just pressing himself further into the older man's warmth. "Good."
And that's how Pepper found them two minutes later, a soft smile on her face as she took in her two favorite boys holding each other as though they were each other's life lines. Which, she supposed, they were.
She was jolted from her reverie when Peter gently extracted himself from Tony to give her a hug as well, murmuring a quiet thank you in her ear. It was the first hug she'd ever received from him, and she wasn't quite able to keep her lips from trembling, or her eyes from tearing as she buried her nose into the boy's hair, holding him close to her.
Her eyes met Tony's above Peter's head. Something that she wasn't sure she wanted to put a name to welled deep in her gut, traveling up until she had fire in her eyes.
We're going to be fine. She told Tony silently, her gaze as fierce as a lioness protecting her cub. He's going to be fine.
Tony just let out a laugh, startling Peter. Seeing Pepper, his future wife, holding Peter as if it were most natural thing to do filled with with unadulterated warmth. She hadn't even known him for that long, heck, neither had he, but Peter really was an expert at making everyone love him. He had never wanted children, and Pepper always had. They'd had the argument countless times, and Tony had always told her that any kid with his genes was doomed from the beginning.
Pepper firmly believed that nurture could override nature, and that he had nothing to be scared of.
With Peter....a middle ground had been reached.
"I'm not okay." The kid's voice was so soft, Tony wondered if he'd imagined it.
"We know."
"I'm not okay." Peter repeated, his eyes distinctly red. "But I will be."
Faced with that much conviction, all Tony could do was nod. He was proud of Peter. In order to receive help, one had to admit that they had a problem. Peter was much like Tony in many ways, never one to ask for anything from anyone until it was too late.
He really needed to get the kid to stop that. It would get him killed one day.
Not that he could talk.
"And we'll be here Peter." Pepper kissed his forehead gently. "Always."
She said nothing as the boy nodded into her neck, his body shaking ever so lightly.
Tony was there, next to them, his hand hovering protectively over Peter before he gave into instincts and smoothed his the kid's wayward locks. He let out a shaky breath, wondering when this child had become the most important thing in his life.
Who was he kidding? Only a mentor? Yeah right. He was blasted so far out of mentor territory that it wasn't funny.
Congratulations. He thought to himself ruefully, tugging both Peter and Pepper into his arms. It's a teenager.
"So..." Pepper gave him a look as they walked to the living room, letting the kid have a shower in peace. She glanced at the wet spot on his shirt and the sappy look on his face.
"Yeah." Tony shrugged, not quite able to keep his lips from curling upwards.
Pepper hummed, chuckling when Tony stuck his tongue out at her.
"We comforted a crying child." He let out a breath, bemused wonder in his tone. "And didn't screw it up."
"Parenting win." The woman agreed, sticking out her hand for a high-five which Tony gladly gave her. "The first of many, I hope."
"Yeah." Tony said, suddenly finding the leather of his sofa very interesting.
"The kid's favorite breakfast is chocolate chip and gummy bear pancakes." Happy's voice drifted towards them, startling the engaged couple.
"We need to get you a bell." Tony muttered, shooting the smirking man a glare. "And why would you tell me that?"
Happy shrugged, leaning against a wall with his arms crossed across his chest. "Tomorrow's Sunday. National Family Breakfast Day."
The man ignored Tony's that's not a thing to say, "Just thought it might pique your interest." He gave them both one last smirk and sauntered out of the room, a jaunty skip in his step.
"We're not making that." Tony said the moment Happy was out the door.
"No one said we were." Pepper bit her lip to stop herself from laughing.
"He has a super-fast metabolism. He needs carbs and fats and protein! Not sugar." Tony frowned. "Well not too much sugar." He amended with a cough.
"Okay." The woman humored her fiancé, lacing her fingers through his.
"I am not feeding him that!"
"I know."
"And stop laughing at me!"
(Peter might have pouted at the distinct lack of gummy bears in his chocolate chip pancakes, but he ate every single one that was placed in front of him with what may, or may not have been tears in his eyes. They couldn't have known that Sunday breakfast was a huge deal in the Parker household, because Peter had never told anyone except Ned how important it was. But they'd tried, tried for him, and he was so grateful for these people that he felt as though he could burst. And when he went back to his room, only to find a huge bag of his gummy bears on his bed, along with a note that said You have a dentist's appointment next Wednesday. Don't fight me on this, he nearly sobbed from laughing too hard. Tony and Pepper were not his parents. They were not Aunt May and Uncle Ben either. Yet...Peter knew that with a bit of time, they were going to be something much more than that).
(And for once, that didn't scare him).