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He’s exhausted and in spite of his latent exasperation he’s thankful. Stephen’s had a long day protecting realities - once more, what will you do. Coming home is a breath of fresh air or more like, a breeze of laughter he can’t help but let out thinking of what will invariably come his way the second his husband hears he's home.
He portals his way into the living-room and all but collapses face first on the couch, the only thing he does before that is change his clothes back from the robes to casual sweats and a hoodie. He needs the most comfort he can get if he is to entertain the foolish thought of not passing out from sheer fatigue.
Peter’s already sitting on the couch when he gets there but even then, Stephen only waves weakly before face-planting in the cushions.
Peter puts down his chemistry book long enough to ask, “Fri, can you warn Dad, please?”
“Of course, Peter,” the AI answers and you can almost hear her fondness for all parties involved. “Mr. Stark will be right up,” she says after a beat and it’s enough for Peter. He scoots back to sit next to his father and puts a light hand over his wrist, a contact to ground him as much as he can, then he goes back to his studying.
Tony enters the room on sauntering feet, trying just a little too hard to fight off the concern that never leaves him when it comes to Stephen coming back from “work”.
He sits on the coffee table, puts something next to him to free his hands and passes them in Stephen’s hair, from the nape of his neck to the top of his head, scratching and soothing. Stephen almost purrs under the attention, that magical kitten.
“Can you sit up, bumblebee?” Tony asks after a while of the same hair-petting and a bit of time spent rubbing Stephen’s shoulders.
Peter snorts in his book but otherwise doesn’t say or do anything, just keeps one hand on his father’s wrist still.
Stephen hums under his breath, in agreement or annoyance it’s hard to tell but he eventually does it. He squeezes Peter’s hand faintly before winding his arms around one of his knees, drawn up against his chest. His eyes are a little bleary but he smiles at Tony in what he hopes is a reassuring sight.
“There you are,” Tony murmurs before turning to what he’d dropped on the table.
Stephen rolls his eyes before huffing. He knew this was coming. Tony had been doing this for months but he still couldn’t for the life of him figure out why or what good it did him.
“Here,” Tony hands him a piece of dark chocolate, “You eat it or I’ll make you.”
“Can I have some?” Peter chirps in and this time Stephen chuckles, that too was expected.
The boy’s eyes shine bright when Tony tosses him the tablet without arguing in the slightest, “Help yourself, bug,” he winks at him before focusing back on Stephen, “I said eat .”
He’s tempted to argue but in the end the sorcerer forces himself to take a bite of the offered candy. It’s not like it tastes bad but he would definitely prefer being left to pass out on the couch like he’d intended - or better yet, he should have portaled right to bed.
He chews slowly and with exaggerated ruminations of his jaw, looking Tony straight in the eye the whole time. He smacks his lips together when he’s done and makes a show of sucking on his fingers until they’re all clean and he takes them out with a loud pop.
“Now, it’s all gone so will you please finally tell me why you’re obsessed with making me eat chocolate every time I’m tired?” Stephen asks, crossing his arms again to hang loosely around his bent leg.
Tony’s eyes widen and he looks to the side, “‘Cause it’s good for you, that’s why.”
“Oh yeah? And where did you get that exactly?” Stephen pushes, curious about the way Tony’s avoiding his gaze.
Peter snorts again and this time both men turn to look at him.
Stephen smirks, “You happen to know something I don’t, young man?”
Without missing a beat, Tony cries out, “Don’t ‘young man’ him to get information!”
And Peter just laughs, and laughs, until he looks first at Tony then meets Stephen’s gaze, “Let’s just say that if Moony had his say in this he’d find you a little too nosy.”
Peter winks at him like he’s going to get what he means by that but Stephen is completely lost this time.
“I’m sorry, what?”
Peter looks at him like he’s grown a second head, his chemistry book well and truly forgotten at his side. “Oh come on! Moony? It’s a Harry Potter reference, Pop! I can’t--”
“What?” he interrupts, glaring at Tony as if on instinct, those Harry Potter jokes are starting to get old. “But what does that--” he starts, but then he remembers.
They’ve forced him to sit through the whole saga of movies and a certain scene comes back to him. It clicks. It’s his turn to look from Peter to Tony, “You’re telling me you’ve been forcing chocolate down my throat this whole time because some fictional werewolf-wizard-whatever said it was an antidote to fatigue?”
Peter is shaking with the force of his unrestrained laughter. Tony is silent. And Stephen huffs, “I can’t believe this. C’mere, you beautiful idiot.”
And Tony goes willingly, he doesn’t care if Stephen makes fun of him if he’s going to hold him like that. Tony rests his head on Stephen's shoulder and pulls his tongue out to Peter petulantly.
It only makes Peter's laughter double in intensity.
"And I'm the kid, huh?"