Work Text:
Tony pauses in his work, vaguely feeling something was… Off.
“FRIDAY, time?” he asks.
“It is 6:32pm on Friday 25…” Friday reads out, as Tony squints, before remembering what it was.
“FRIDAY, isn’t Peter meant to be here today?” he asks.
“Mrs Parker said he had a dentist’s appointment today at 5:42, I could call now, if you wished?” FRIDAY replies.
Tony hums, before nodding.
“Sure,” he says.
The dial tone rings for a moment.
“Hello?” May asks.
“Hi, just wondering how the kid is; FRIDAY says he had a dentist appointment?”
“Oh, yeah, uh, orthodontists, actually; Pete needed to get Braces.”
“He OK?” Tony asks.
May chuckles, before speaking away from the phone.
There’s the distinct crackle of the phone moving.
“Hello Mithter Th’ark!” Peter greets, cheery.
Tony raises a brow.
“Hey kid! Interesting day?”
“I got giffen funny gath and then I woke up and now I haf bwaceth!” Peter cheers, “They’re wed and bloow!” Peter continues.
Yep.
That’s a lisp.
Tony’s smile morphs into a grin, a chuckle breaking free from his chest.
“Nice! Like your costume!” he grins.
“They’re my favourite colours!” Peter agrees, lisp still thick.
Tony has to fight the urge to beg May for pictures; he can see it later, anyway.
“So you gunna be able to be here for the weekend like normal, or does May want you spending any healing time at hers?” Tony asks.
“TONY’S!” Peter cheers, loud enough to make the call crackle.
“Well, he’s spending the night with me, but he should be able to come over tomorrow!” May says, “I’ll text if he’s still trashed from the anaesthetic.”
“That’s fine; I’m just as up to a movie-day with the kid as a science day,” Tony replies, “Though don’t forget that if there’s any trouble, there’s a Medical facility in the Tower that Peter’s also registered to, so you can bring him here if you get worried about anything.”
Peter babbles, as May says goodbye and hangs up, the traffic now moving a bit more.
Tony’s grin stays as he has FRIDAY shut the lab down so he can sleep in time for Saturday…
Tony has to take a moment when Peter smiles at him the next day.
If anything, the braces ‒ blue wire with red teeth-bits ‒ make Peter look younger , knocking him right from twelve-ish into ten.
It’s the cutest thing and Tony is suddenly so glad for May and American healthcare.
Indeed, the next morning starts with Peter’s arrival, FRIDAY detecting them when they reach the main road leading to them.
So Tony’s waiting for them by the time they arrive.
“May! Peter!” Tony greets, “You two good?!”
“Mr Stark!” Peter calls back, out and around May’s car in mere seconds, running up.
The smile he gets…
Oh boy, is he having a heart attack? It felt like that was a heart attack. Peter smiling in braces with his puppy-eyes already out and looking so happy and eager to see him of all people…
Jesus!
“Heyya, Underoos!” he greets, restraining himself from touching where his arc reactor used to be, to tell his heart to shut the fuck up in front of this kid!!
…
Tony glances at Peter's eager grin once more.
Friday, you Better record this…
Tony steps out to go and deal with something Pepper was demanding of him, so Peter continues working on his suit…
Until Dum-E drops a ball by his feet.
“Hey, Dum-E!” Peter greets, before looking at the ball, “You want to play catch?”
Dum-E bleeps, then spins in a circle, looking very happy at the prospect of a game.
“OK!” Peter smiles, “FRIDAY, can I leave my work for a bit?”
“Yes, Peter,” FRIDAY replies, as Peter picks up the ball.
For twenty minutes, Dummy and Peter are playing off against U and Butterfingers, until the doors open again as Peter just misses catching the ball.
He spins round to go and get it, only to find it bouncing, then rolling into the feet of the blonde now standing there, Peter recognising her and the two with her.
“C-Captain America, Sir!” Peter squeaks, “A-and Mrs Widow and the Arm-guy!”
Then, he registers exactly who it is, excitement thrumming through him, as the three adults realise who and what this is before them.
“I-I know you’re kinda meant to be locked up,” Peter babbles, lisp still thick, so he was stumbling over his words, “and I really kind of want to punch you, Mr America, Sir, but oh my god! I didn’t really think I’d see you beyond Germany and you were really cool, even though you were on the other side of the fight and I’m kinda wondering how the hell you’re able to carry the shield for so long, even though it’s light for me its weight about the same amount as a full computer set and oh my god your arm is so cool! I’ve been thinking over prosthetics every now and then ‘cause Mr Rhodey’s braces and the Arc Reactor also used to be basically a prosthetic for Mr Stark’s heart…”
Twenty-fine minutes later, Peter’s happily studying Bucky’s arm, though he still hasn’t realised all three bots were standing behind him, Dum-E flexing his claw and Butterfingers flexing his fingers. Steve’s also nursing a bruised jaw and Natasha’s sitting separate from them, arms crossed as she watches the bots and other superhumans.
All three bots would stop looking threateningly at their visitors as soon as Peter would start to look over at them, though they were still very protective of their fleshy, baby brother.
A baby brother who’s happily humming around the penlight in his mouth, looking at everything in Bucky’s arm, swapping a few things here and there to simplify it and make it work more smoothly, puppy-eyes narrowed slightly in concentration, though every emotion on his face was easy to spot.
Then, the lift dings.
Peter looks over. Grinning when he sees who it is.
“Mr Stark!” he grins.
Tony’s automatically activating his gauntlets.
“Kid, you’re meant to web up the intruders,” he scowls.
“Miss Widow gave me Churros!” Peter replies, motioning to the bag on one of the nearby tables,”You know they’re my ultimate weakness!”
Tony firms his jaw as he has to choose between destroying the people who betrayed him, or humouring his kid, who, with the lisp, sounded more like he was saying “They’we my uttermut weakneth!” voice cracking halfway through into a small, adorable squeak.
Finally, he disengages the gauntlets.
“We are talking about how friendly you can be with them later,” Tony frowns.
“I am the Friendly Neighbourhood Spiderman, though!” Peter chuckles, “Though, honestly, you should see Mr Bucky’s arm: it’s over-complicated in most parts ‒ which contributes to its weight ‒ and decimated in others where the over-complications have smashed it, it’s like when you try stuffing a suitcase with books and tech and stuff, then one or two get bent or torn from how much is in the case!”
Tony frowns, peering over Peter’s shoulder.
First there’s confusion.
Then realization.
Then, Tony chuckles.
“Yup, and you need to extract the extra, kid,” Tony chuckles, though, you seem to have not noticed the release mechanism right here.”
He just takes the screwdriver from Peter’s hand, sticks it in, and the arm disengages from Bucky’s shoulder, surprising the others.
“Now that’s what I call making someone armless,” Tony snorts, “So, with that little cheer-up from my kid and Mr The-Voices-That-Programmed-Me-Told-Me-To-Kill-You, what are you three doing here?”
Natasha and Steve glance at each other.
“We thought you should know the rest of what we found when we saw…” Steve pauses, glancing at Bucky and Peter, “I know it could have gone up with the rest of the HYDRA junk, but we don’t exactly want people putting their minds onto the internet, or figure out a way to do that to anyone…”
Tony crosses his arms, before glancing at Peter’s desk.
“Kid, headphones, your table, you can work on Buckbeak’s arm over there,” he says.
“But‒” Peter starts.
“Not kid-friendly conversation, go,” Tony says, sending Peter over.
The other three watch Peter go.
“So, what do you mean “minds put online”?” Tony asks, taking the chair Peter had vacated, “And why not just send a letter like last time you dun goofed, as the kids put it?”
Steve opens his mouth, but words don’t come for a moment.
“Tony …” Steve starts.
“Don’t Tony me! You put your shield through what, unti shortly before that fight, had been the only thing that was keeping me alive since a decade ago! Had you been a little higher or even a little harsher, were my heart only one percent weaker, I would have fucking died. Sure, it got me to stop acting out on what was basically the most game-changing information in my life, kinda a double-standard when you think it’s OK for Zola and Kitty-cat to try and kill the people who killed their family, then my actions, just because you know that person-?! Honestly, the only one I was truly sad to see murdered in that was my Mom, because she wasn’t an asshole who thought that tough-love meant doing what I was in my twenties, but with a lot more fisticuffs. Like I want Peter to be better than me, I will never stoop to my father’s fucking level. So when you did that? When you decided chucking away the work he’d done right after seeing him fucking die? When you basically looked like all you cared about was your own fucking feelings? When you knew what the fuck happened to them- How do you think I fucking felt?!”
Steve’s pale face is fixed on the red of Tony’s.
“W-what…” Steve stammers, finally catching up one detail amongst the many others, looking like he’s going to cry, as both Nat and Buck are staring at the pair of them, shock written on their faces.
Tony loosely shrugs, before crossing his arms and kneading the bridge of his nose.
“You are going to tell me what you mean by mind-uploading, then get out. I can tell I’m not the only pissed person here, given Dum-E’s been flexing his claw for the past five minutes and Butterfingers has started spinning about so he doesn’t charge over to hit you.”
Steve is still lost for words, before he beckons to Natasha.
“Arnim Zola created a computer in 1972 that was powerful and strong enough to act as a replacement brain for his own, into which, through a machine wired between a chair-thing and the new ‘brain’. The schematics was in his system, as well as a whole host of other things. We did just manage to grab some of those files, but that was before a missile blew the place up.”
“OK, so, why are you telling me this?” Tony asks.
“Shuri ‒ T’Challa’s sister ‒ was thinking a combination of your BARF system and that kind of tech could help remove the keywords programmed into Bucky’s head.”
Tony crosses his arms, silence reigning for a moment.
“Uh, Mrs Stark?”
Peter takes off his headphones.
“By the looks of this, it was basically made so that for the past seventy, eighty years? It’s been hurting Mr Barnes… I-I know you didn’t want me eavesdropping, but when I saw you getting angry, then looking really, really sad…”
Tony bites his knuckle, as Peter hesitates.
“Y-you could place restrictions, though; like, whoever’s using it has to send you details on any modifications made to the machine itself o-or records of if and when it’s used so it’s not simply being c-copied or something…” he says, “B-besides… If is was MJ or Ned who hurt me, but then I found out it was ‘cause they’d been hurting, too a-and things got out of hand?” Peter’s voice cracks partway through that sentence, cheeks colouring as he gives a half-shrug and smile.
Tony lets out a slow, even breath.
“Fine. But you’re not allowed to say about Peter to the others, his civilian self is in high school and last time I tried stopping him from fighting by taking away his suit, he just got his old one and half-killed himself taking down the Vulture because it was basically polyester and cotton. You are going to promise me that Shuri won’t make a replica so I don’t get to see any modifications made to my BARF tech, like Peter said… Also, given I kinda have a problem that Ultron was originally meant to solve but just made worse, I need T’Challa to help me persuade the UN to let you guys back into America, ‘cause I’m not just paranoid; given we had the Tesseract? Have the powerful thing from the Staff? Someone’s gonna want that. They’re going to do whatever they can to get it, and people will die if no one’s there to stop it, if we’re not there as a group…”
Twelve minutes later, Nat’s gotten the pair out to safety, promises written down and the tech in question with them.
When they go, Peter watches Tony, instead of the former Avengers members.
“Mr Stark?” he asks.
Tony turns, giving him the press-smile instead of his usual one.
“I’m fine,” Tony replies.
Peter immediately drops his tools, running over and hugging Tony.
“What’s this for?” Tony snorts.
“Because you need it!” Peter says, looking up, “Because you’ll always have me, Mr Stark!”
Tony chokes up at the smile Peter gives, wrapping his arms around his kid.
God fucking damn it… This kid…
Peter somehow manages to get Friday to secretly inform Pepper and Rhodey of what’d happened, the two swooping in to also provide their support, as T’Challa and Tony finally talk, working out their own version of the Accords ‒ the German Clause ‒ as well as getting Thaddeus Ross out of the way and the other Avengers able to return.
Thing is.
Peter’s still got his braces in when they return, lisp a bit better, though it gets more pronounced the more embarrassed he gets.
Like meeting an entire room of Avengers.
While he’s got Ned with him.
Both boys were over a dog robot Peter and Ned had been working on for their next science fair, now only needing to assemble the remaining half of the body and sew its "skin" on.
In the main lounge.
Where the Avengers were returning to.
“Oh my god!” Ned breathes, tapping Peter’s arm.
Peter looks at Ned, then at the gathered group, who are following behind Tony.
First, he registers the group.
Then, he spots Tony, who looks a blend of pleased, tired and exasperated, suit jacket open, tie loosened and top shirt buttons undone.
“Mr Stark! You’re back!” Peter grins, dropping his tools and running over to hug Tony, a little thing they’d developed as a way of saying I’m fine and safe, you’re fine and safe, fuck everything else. “Uh, if you need Ned and I to go to a different room, we’ll take a tiny while, though we kinda already lost three small screws and the entire lot of fabric we chose to cover PLUT-O…”
“Pluto?” Clint asks, looking at the various bits and bobs lain over the carpet.
“No, PLUT-O, Perfect Little Unique Toy One!” Peter grins, “Though, Pluto, yeah, after the god!”
Tony crosses his arms, picking out another part of what peter had said.
“You literally begged Pepper into helping you find a seamstress for the fur, then May’s been talking to me about helping you stitch the rest, how did you…?”
“Uh…” Peter quickly darts back, picking up the chairs slightly, scuttling about, before finding a bunch of gold fabric under a cushion, “Found it!”
Tony chuckles, as Peter quickly gets back to work, penlight back in his mouth as he’s using a little hammer to tap a scrap piece of metal into place.
The other Avengers settle around, as Peter helps Ned focus on their work, soon distracting his friend by talking about the latest lego set they were planning on trying later.
(Tony could only find the comparison of a pair of puppies, he couldn’t help it; with how his kid’s personality bounced through Ned’s and caused an increasing loop of delight and eagerness, Tony couldn’t. He was gonna die and go to heaven or limbo from these two. Jesus Christ if He Could Adopt These Two Kids…)
A little bark signals Peter and Ned are done, the furless anamatronic barking at Ned, then walking around, sniffing, before bouncing over to Peter and barking.
Peter and Ned fawn over it for a moment, before Peter whispers something, tugging a giggle from Ned, before the dog’s looking round.
When it spots Tony, it bounds over to him and barks.
So, as any good person would do when faced with a puppy-dog made by a pair of puppy-dogs…
…He flopped over to fawn over all three.
Fuck the fact its in front of the others who mostly know of him as Mr-Heartless-Ironman, these are his kids with what is basically his grandson and he will spoil them however the fuck he wants!