Work Text:
“Seriously, kid,” Tony muttered, rolling his neck and stretching his back, “what has gotten into you today?”
Peter threw another toy across the floor in answer, clearly deeming it unsuitable for his affections at that moment.
“You’re driving me crazy. Why are you suddenly being so disagreeable?”
At that, Peter looked up at his father with a pout, his lower lip wobbling dangerously as his eyes widened with tears. “M’not dis-greeble!”
“Pete, dude, you don’t even know what that word means.”
“But m’not it!”
Tony rolled his eyes when Peter lifted his arms and made grabby hands, his pout growing even bigger the longer Tony looked down at him without moving.
“Aw, man.” Tony shook his head at himself as he finally broke. He bent down and tucked his hands underneath Peter’s armpits, hoisting him up onto his hip with a practiced ease. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
“No m’not.”
Tony shook his head, straightening Peter’s shirt out where it had bunched up around his chest. “You’re in one of those moods today, aren’t you?”
Peter shook his head sagely and Tony huffed a laugh. “Not. You’re just mean.”
“I swear,” Tony said, blowing out a sigh, “if your Pops walks in and you turn into an angel, you’re grounded until you’re 50.”
As if on cue, a key turned in the lock and the front door swung open to reveal Steve. It was as though a switch had been flicked; in an instant, Peter’s pout was gone and he was all smiles and laughter.
Tony groaned as he struggled to keep a hold of the small boy trying to launch himself across the room. “You’re killing me, Pete. You are such a terror.”
“No,” Peter said, still all smiles on his daddy’s hip as he made pathetic little whining noises to accompany his grabbing hands. “‘M’not.”
“There’s my buddy!” Steve said happily before Tony could say anything more. His mouth was already stretched into a wide grin and arms automatically stretching out for his son. “Oh, baby, I missed you so much. Have you been good for your Daddy?”
“Yup,” Peter replied, squirming in Tony’s hold until he was released into Steve’s. Once in Steve’s arms, he settled down immediately, reaching out to run his hands though Steve’s beard and sighing in contentment. “‘M the best boy. Always good.”
Tony let out a loud bark of sarcastic laughter. “Oh, yeah, kid. Can’t wait till the frightful fours are over. Or till you’ve got kids of your own, even. Then you’ll get it.”
“Uh oh.” Steve turned and pressed a kiss to Peter’s palm, grinning when it made him shout in delight, before he grimaced at Tony. “Not a good day?”
“If you need me,” Tony said in lieu of an answer, turning on his heel and walking out of the room, “I will be in the bath with no toys, no children, and no bedtime. Good luck, darling, he’s all yours.”
//
“Knock, knock.”
Tony made some sort of grunting noise in response to his husband’s voice. He’d lost track of time a little after he’d left Peter in the care of Steve and gone off in the search of a bit of peace and quiet. It wasn’t that Peter was a bad kid, not in the slightest. Most days Tony liked to joke that it was impossible to tell that there was any Stark in him at all, given how quiet and kind he was, but then he had days like the one they’d just lived through where Tony couldn’t get Peter to do anything.
It had been a game to get him out of bed and a mission to get him to eat anything for breakfast other than dry cereal – because apparently Tony couldn’t even pour milk correctly. It had then been another serious task to get Peter down for his nap, and Tony had sort of gave up by mid-afternoon. No games were enough to hold Peter’s attention, nor any toys played with longer than a few minutes.
Never in the four years they’d had him had Tony regretted being a stay-at-home-Dad, but some days he reached his limit faster than others. Despite how much he missed Peter when the boy was away from him for even long enough to go to the bathroom, Tony was ashamed to say that he had started a countdown to when nursery started up again.
If the terrible twos had been bad, the frightful fours were hell. And Tony refused to let himself think about the teenage years.
“I’ve got someone here to say something to you, sweetheart,” Steve said softly, drawing Tony’s attention back to the moment. “You okay to let him in?”
Tony lifted his head from where he’d face-planted the bed and looked over to see his bedroom door cracked open ever so slightly. In the small gap, he saw a tiny little face staring in at him and couldn’t stop himself from smiling.
“Hey, kid,” he said, rolling over and beckoning for Peter to come into the bedroom. Sheer peace flowed through Tony from head to toe at seeing his little boy all soft and ready for bed. It was a stark contrast to the hellion that had destroyed his living room that same morning. “Isn’t it your bedtime?”
Peter nodded as he padded into the room, feet clad in alarmingly-fluffy slippers and his bathrobe hanging off one shoulder. “It is. But I wanted to say g’night to you, Daddy. Papa said you weren’t feelin’ good.”
Tony’s heart melted and he felt familiar guilt rise back up in his throat.
“Of course I’m okay, Pete,” Tony said, reaching out to brush some of Peter’s wet hair back from his forehead when he got close enough. Steve had very clearly won the nightly bath debate that evening – and Tony didn’t envy him the battle. “I’ve got you for a son; how could I ever be anything but?”
“I love you,” Peter said. His face was set into a very serious expression, one that didn’t quite match the ensemble of a stuffed penguin held in the boy’s arms and the cartoon trains all over his pyjamas. “Don’ want you to be sad.”
“Oh, baby.” Tony pushed himself up into a sitting position and reached out to lift Peter up onto his lap. He held his gaze as he cuddled him close, noses almost touching. “You’re the best kid in the world. You drive me crazy, but I’m never, ever going to be sad when I have you and your Papa.”
Peter smiled and leant forward to scrunch his nose against Tony’s, giggling when he pulled away. “We’re the bestest.”
Tony laughed loudly and pressed a kiss to Peter’s head, getting a clumsy attempt of a kiss from a stuffed penguin in return. “You got it, kid. We’re the best.”