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“I can do it,” Tony insists, batting Peter’s hands away.
“I’m not saying you can’t, I’m just saying that maybe I want to instead,” Peter tactfully lies, coming to stand on the other side of Tony as he hovers anxiously.
“Nope, kid. You can do the ironing for your college graduation, ok? But it is the duty of a parent to iron the horrific polyester monstrosity that they call a high school graduation gown.” Tony double-checks the setting of the iron again, just in case. His kid is not walking across the stage with a half-melted gown.
Peter’s lips purse and he turns away, walking towards the living room with a too-casual shrug.
“Ok, you win.”
Tony blinks, watches out of the corner of his eye as Peter lays on the rug next to Maggie, his chin supported on his palm as he pets her.
“Seriously? I was expecting at least eighty-six more seconds of arguing before you gave in,” he says, trying for nonchalant and landing closer to apprehensive.
Peter shrugs again, his shoulders staying bunched around his ears in a gesture too rigid for what was, only seconds ago, a casual conversation.
Tony flicks off the iron.
Peter glances at Tony as he sits on the floor in front of the couch, then rolls his eyes.
“I thought you wanted to do the ironing,” Peter says, focusing entirely too much on a knot in Maggie’s fur.
“I do,” Tony assures him. He does. He’s missed so many of the landmark moments in Peter’s life, so he’s determined to be as involved and extravagant as possible for the ones he gets to be a part of. And graduating high school is a big deal, even if Peter always snorts derisively when Tony says that.
“I just think maybe we’re not both talking about ironing anymore,” Tony finally murmurs, when Peter remains silent.
Peter rolls over onto his back, turns his head away so Tony can’t see his face. His shoulder is pressed against Tony’s knee and it shakes as he inhales.
“What if I don’t want to go to college?” Peter says.
Peter, the kid who only a few months previously had nearly cried with joy as he got his acceptance letter from MIT; the kid who had spent the last month chattering with Ned about their dorm room, making plans for whose posters would go where; the kid who stayed up until midnight to sign up for his first semester of classes, who was undeterred when the system crashed, who only laughed at Tony’s half-asleep complaining.
Tony takes a deep breath and tamps down the simultaneous waves of relief and panic.
“Yeah?” He asks, his voice soft.
Peter strokes Maggie’s ear. She watches him with half-lidded eyes, like he’s the best thing in the world.
“Maybe...,” Peter hesitates, clears his throat. “Maybe I want to stay here. With you.”
Tony closes his eyes as the unspoken declaration of “I don’t want this to end,” ricochets around his ribcage, exquisite and painful.
If he could—if it wasn’t horribly, unforgivably selfish—Tony would tell Peter that he wants him to stay. That the thought of Peter leaving sends white hot flashes of fear and aching loneliness through him.
The love he feels for this boy is a living thing, carving out a home in his chest.
Tony swallows the words away, sighing as he shifts. He reaches out and cards a hand through Peter’s hair, brushes his thumb against the shell of Peter’s ear.
“Where’s this coming from, buddy? I thought you were excited.”
Peter turns his head, giving Tony a glimpse of his red-rimmed eyes before he buries his face against Tony’s knee. When he speaks again, his words are weighty, like he’s thought them a hundred times but never said them aloud before.
“I’ve already left enough family.”
It takes Tony’s breath away like a punch to the gut. He flounders for a moment before finding his voice.
“Oh, Peter,” he sighs, and Peter presses closer to him. “Hey, sit up for me, ok?” Peter makes a noise of protest. “Yeah, come on.”
Tony hooks a hand around Peter’s arm and drags him up until they’re sitting side by side, then taps Peter’s chin until he looks at Tony, his eyes dark and haunted.
“Kid,” Tony mutters, ducking his head so he’s on Peter’s level. “It’s not the same thing.”
Peter gives a jerky nod, turning away again. Maggie seems annoyed that her petting has been interrupted, because she comes and plops down in Peter’s lap again, her long legs sprawled across Tony’s knees.
“I know.”
Tony can tell there’s more Peter wants to say, so he waits.
“It’s just,” Peter says abruptly, slumping into Tony’s side. “It’s just that my life has been turned upside down four times now. I don’t want to do that again. I’m sick of things changing.”
Tony thinks for a minute, resting his arm against the couch cushion behind him and raising a hand to squeeze the back of Peter’s neck. He could feed him some line about how change is the only constant, about how by trying to stop it you’ll just make yourself miserable. But Peter knows that. Like the kid said, his entire life has been a process of moving on, of accepting and adapting.
“Listen, about MIT. Just try it for a semester, ok? Less, even, if it’s making you really miserable.” Peter peers up at him, seeming a little surprised by Tony’s non sequitur. Tony sends him a small smile, rubs his thumb against the knob of Peter’s spine.
“The thing about college, kiddo, is that people build it up to be this huge deal, where everything’s different and you don’t know what’s going on, but you get there and you go to class and you eat the same crappy ramen you insist on eating here and suddenly it’s just... life. That’s life and you’re in it.”
Peter twists his mouth to one side like he doesn’t believe Tony. He’s playing with Maggie’s collar, trying to distract himself from whatever’s going on in his head. Tony presses just a little closer.
“What if it isn’t?” Peter whispers. “What if it always feels wrong?”
“Then I will be here, waiting, with open arms,” Tony says, feeling unexpected tears burn behind his eyes. He fights to keep his voice steady. “And we’ll try something else.”
Peter glances at him out of the corner of his eyes. Whatever he sees in Tony’s face must convince him that he means that completely: Tony will never rest until Peter is happy.
“For what it’s worth, buddy, I really think you’re going to love college. I would just tell you to screw the whole thing if I didn’t honestly believe that.”
Peter huffs a small laugh. “Yeah?”
“Absolutely.”
“Ok,” Peter declares with a short nod. “Ok.”
“That’s my boy.” The smile that he gets for that is worth the pain that has been slowly building in his back from sitting on the floor. “Alright, Pete, we’ve got to get a move on. We’ve still got to pick a tie that will go with that hideous blue gown and heaven knows how long that will take.”
Peter snorts, trying to push Maggie off his lap so he can stand. “Would be faster if you didn’t have a million ties.”
“Which you will be thanking me for when you look better than everyone else tomorrow,” Tony snaps goodhumoredly. “Now come help me up.”
Peter rolls his eyes but takes Tony’s hand and hoists him to his feet. Before he can let go, Tony reels him in for a hug, which Peter immediately returns.
“Just cause you’re going to be eighteen doesn’t mean you won’t be my kid anymore, ok? You’re always going to have me,” Tony murmurs.
Maggie butts her head against Tony’s hip, yipping softly.
“And Maggie. You’ll always have her, too.” Tony says, grinning into Peter’s hair.
Peter laughs, buries his face more firmly against Tony’s chest.
“Well, as long as I have Maggie,” he quips, but he doesn’t let go of Tony. Tony laces his fingers through Peter’s hair and holds him for a long moment.
“Whatever else is going on, I'll be your constant,” Tony vows solemnly. “Understand?”
Peter’s arms tighten around him and he nods into Tony’s shoulder.
“Alright.” Tony pulls back, cupping Peter’s jaw for a second. “You have made me such a sap,” he tells Peter, his tone somber.
Peter grins at him until Tony lightly shoves him away, making him laugh.
“Go pick your ten favorites and bring them in here. I’ve still got to iron this thing.”
Tony’s life since he picked Peter up from the hospital that fateful night has been a whirlwind of fear and pride, grief and joy, self-doubt and overwhelming, sometimes devastating amounts of love.
The moment Peter comes hurrying up to him after the graduation ceremony—his currently-empty diploma holder clutched in his hand—somehow surpasses all of it, all of the highs and lows and long nights and bad days and lazy Sundays and games of fetch with Maggie in the park.
Peter’s cap is knocked off as he throws himself into Tony’s waiting arms, but they both ignore it. The crowd around them is raucous and celebratory, people bumping into them as they unite with their families and friends. Tony hears cameras clicking and for the first time in his life hopes that someone is taking their picture, because this moment needs to be captured, preserved, cherished.
“I’m so proud of you,” Tony says, his voice thicker than he thought it would be. “I’m so proud of you.”
He’s so proud he could burst with it.
He also thinks his heart might be breaking.
What is he going to do without this wonderful kid at his side every day? How can he go back to eating his meals in his empty lab, with his AI as the only person to talk to? How do you just keep going when the entirety of your heart is two hundred miles away?
He is going to miss Peter with his whole being, every moment of every day, and he knows that it is an ache he will have to simply endure, rather than accept.
Tony’s eyes burn with tears and he presses his face into Peter’s hair, desperate for this moment to never end.
But, as all parents learn eventually, the moment always ends. And the next one is just as good.
“It’s just high school,” Peter mutters, embarrassed, into Tony’s neck.
Tony pulls back, cupping Peter’s face in his hands and looking at him for a long moment.
“No, it’s not. You know that, right?”
Peter’s bottom lip trembles. They haven’t outright talked about it, but they both know that there are four people missing right now. That that first hug that Tony was more than happy to accept should have been Mary Parker’s. Or May’s. Not his.
“No one else could have gone through what you’ve been through and still be standing here, Peter Parker,” Tony whispers, pressing his forehead to Peter’s. “I am so proud of you.”
Peter takes a shaky breath.
“Thanks, Tony.”
Tony pulls Peter into his arms again, pressing a kiss to his temple as he does. “I love you, buddy. More than anything.”
“I love you, too,” Peter says, his voice hoarse. “Thanks for being here.”
“Like I would have missed it,” Tony replies, and neither mean the graduation.
Ned comes and pulls Peter away eventually, for pictures together and with MJ and the decathlon team. Rhodey, Pepper, and Happy excuse themselves so they can make their way to the penthouse to get dinner—and the graduation presents Peter didn’t know existed—ready.
Peter appears at his side after a few minutes, his cap back on, if slightly crooked, and his eyes light and happy. Tony throws an arm over his shoulder as they walk to the car.
“I thought you might want to stop by the cemetery, before we head back,” Tony suggests softly, hesitant to bring it up in case he shatters Peter’s good mood.
But Peter looks up at him, a soft smile on his face and his eyes full of gratitude.
“Yeah. Yeah, I want to.”
The drive to the cemetery is quiet, but Peter’s eyes never take on that haunted look that tends to appear in the silence. He seems content, his gown now a little rumpled from all the hugs.
The Parkers’ graves are clean and sunlit. The dead flowers that Peter left last time they came have been cleared away. Peter takes a minute to arrange new bouquets over the proper graves and when he’s done, Tony kneels next to him on the grass.
Peter leans into Tony’s side.
Peter doesn’t say anything, just sits for several minutes, looking at the epitaphs of his parents, his aunt and uncle, engraved in stone. It’s a solemn sight—a kid in a graduation gown, kneeling at not one, but four graves. Tony watches, his heart aching, as Peter reaches forward and brushes his fingers against each name.
Eventually, Peter takes a deep breath and turns to Tony.
“I’m ready,” he says. Tony has a feeling he doesn’t just mean to leave the cemetery, but to leave home, to go to college and discover himself, what he wants and thinks outside of this, outside of being an orphan twice over and outside of being a superhero and maybe even outside of being Tony’s kid, just for a little bit.
And when he’s tired, or scared, or hurt, he’ll come home, with stories about his classes and his friends, with piles of laundry and bags under his eyes, and he’ll fall into Tony’s arms just like he did today and find that he still fits perfectly. That he always will.
Tony holds that image in his head, of his boy coming back to him, as he smiles at Peter and says, “Me, too.”
When they get home, Maggie meets them at the door.