Chapter Text
August
Tony Stark hadn’t had a one night stand in exactly 17 years, 8 months, and 12 days. He knew this exact number off the top of his head since he was currently staring at the product of it - all 5’8” of excitable college freshman that was Peter Stark - and would never, for a second, forget the moment the doctor placed the wriggling newborn into his arms.
Nor the moment that Sunset looked up at him from the bed and said, “He’s yours. I don’t want him. Send me papers, send me whatever, but I’ve already given my body over to him for 9 months, and I’m not wasting any more time.”
“8 months and 12 days,” Tony automatically corrected, not taking his eyes off Peter. “But, noted. I’ll have my lawyers draw the papers.”
Since that moment, it had been him and Pete. He’d lived through Peter’s obsessions with baseball, spiders, crime fighting, and a particularly unfortunate season where the only show he’d allow on the television was 101 Dalmatians.
And now he was going to college.
Where had the time gone?
Of course, as Peter was a Stark, and therefore contrary to his very core, he refused to attend Stonybrook University, where Tony had been on faculty for the past 12 years and where Peter would attend for free. No, the punk had gone and gotten accepted to Stonybrook’s rival, Fallwell State, because Peter felt the physics program was better.
Better, Tony huffed internally as he carried a Rubbermaid bin full of blankets and first-aid supplies and followed Peter into his dorm room. What does that even mean, better?
“Dad,” Peter’s voice broke his reverie. “What else did Aunt Pepper pack?”
“The easier question to answer, my boy, is what Aunt Pepper didn’t pack,” Tony snorted. “You have enough medicine and first aid supplies to last through at least two weeks of lab accidents, a bunch of packets of peanut butter because she’s evidently afraid you’re me and will forget to eat, and then she washed your sheets and towels in our detergent so that your bed would smell like home. And that’s just this bin.”
Peter simultaneously blushed and rolled his eyes. “She does remember that I’m only 45 minutes away from home, right?”
“Yes, but our calculations had you being only 12 minutes from home and you know she’s going to fret that those extra 33 minutes will mean you will perish.”
“She will not,” the woman herself announced as she entered the dorm room, brandishing bags of food supplies from Trader Joe’s. “And you can roll your eyes at me all you want, Peter Stark, but I am your godmother and the only one you’ve got. So, put that television down, take that box from your father, and make your bed.”
“Yes, Auntie Pep,” he replied, deploying his childhood nickname for her, knowing full well that it was her kryptonite.
She quirked her eyebrow at him and gave him a kiss on the forehead.
The next hour or so was full of settling Peter in, making sure that they left room for the roommate who had yet to arrive, and Tony specifically spent it trying not to cry. Focus on Peter and his excitement and this new chapter of his life. Do not cry. Do not cry. Do not - dammit, Stark, that choked up feeling needs to go.
Finally, every bin had been unpacked and Pepper felt the room was fully stocked and there was no reason for the adults to linger any longer.
“You are less than an hour away,” Peter reminded his father as they hugged. “I can see you in less time than it takes you to finish a day in Stardew Valley.”
“You are a menace and I have never loved you,” Tony responded to the insult. He kissed the top of Peter’s head emphatically and then pulled back from the hug. He grasped his son’s face in his hands. “Serious time, pal. This has the potential of being some of the most important years of your life, as long as you live them. You’re going to fuck up and I’m going to freak out and you’re going to learn shit and you’ll probably fall in love and Aunt Pep will keep me in my tree and everything is going to be great. Just… have fun, be wise, and make good choices.”
“I love you, too, Dad,” Peter replied and pulled his father back into a hug.
When Pepper had imparted her own wisdom (Do not - under any circumstances - pledge Sigma Chi or I will personally end you, and please make sure to eat at least one vegetable per day, and text your dad at least every other, or he’ll be a nightmare), she and Tony took their leave and wandered to their cars.
“He’s going to be wonderful,” Pepper smiled at her best friend.
“Oh, I know,” Tony said. “I raised him.”
Pepper rolled her eyes and climbed into her car. “Salmino’s? I could go for salmon.”
“Whoever gets there first, grab the fried calamari. We’re eating our feelings tonight.”
“I’m excited,” Steve Rogers said later that evening to his landlord/best friend, James “Bucky” Barnes, Esquire as the pair played a few rounds of Mario Kart. “I think teaching will be a good challenge, and I’m so fucking tired of not being able to pay rent without giving myself a few stress ulcers each month. It’s been three years since I had any sort of steady commission and this is the right opportunity at the right time and I can’t beat the rent.”
“Punk, I ain’t gonna let you pay me in repainting my house forever,” Bucky muttered.
“I know,” Steve grinned. “But I just can’t believe I have to do this much for this little pay.”
Bucky snorted. “Did you think that being an associate art professor at Fallwell State was going to lead to champagne wishes and caviar dreams?”
Steve flipped him off quickly before swerving into Princess Peach. “No, but I didn’t think I’d be teaching three classes and advising fifteen students and be required to sit on three committees.”
Bucky/Luigi raced across the finish line in first place and the pair decided to shut off the console.
“You got their names?” Bucky headed into the kitchen, pulled two bottles of Lagunitas IPA from the fridge and passed one to Steve as he sat back down on the couch and turned on an episode of Ice Road Truckers.
Steve pulled out his phone and scrolled a bit. “The first one I have tomorrow is Peter Stark, and Mikayla Anderson, Patina Shu, and Ryan Matheson. That’s all the hard science kids. Then a few English, and the rest are undeclared.”
He looked back up to see Bucky staring at him, mouth frozen open. “What?”
“Stark. That name don’t ring any bells?”
“No, should it?”
Bucky nodded. “The big case I did a few years back, the hit and run where the man died?”
“The one that...?”
“Yeah, that one, the widow was Stark’s best friend. Motherfucker hates me because I defended the asshat who killed her husband,” Bucky took a long sip of his beer. “Not that I blame him. At all. I should never have taken that case.”
Steve blinked at Bucky a few times. That case had destroyed Bucky. He'd almost surrendered his law license. Cary Burrowes had been behind the wheel of a car while both high on marijuana and texting when he slammed into the side of Harold Hogan’s car, killing Harold instantly. Bucky had taken the case because Cary was broke, and had been on the way to the hospital to see his grandmother who had just had a stroke. What happened to Harold was terrible, and Cary’s decision-making was certainly questionable, but vehicular manslaughter seemed too rough to Bucky.
And then Bucky had gotten to know Cary and had quickly began to pray he’d lose the case.
That feeling didn’t ease up any when he’d met Harold’s widow - Virginia Potts Hogan. She’d told the court to call her “Pepper” and talked at length about what a wonderful man her husband had been. She asked for justice, said Happy - that’s what they called him - wouldn’t want anything less. It calcified into complete regret when he heard that Pepper had just had a miscarriage and that’s why Happy had been on the road that night - he was heading to buy another heating pad since theirs had gone on the fritz.
His client, on the other hand, was only racing to his grandmother to make sure he’d get some of her inheritance, was one of the local pot dealers who sold to high school students, and basically was a walking description of an asshat who deserved to suffer for his choices. Bucky learned quickly that he needed to ask better questions during client selection if he was going to stand by the idea that he’d only defend people he believed were innocent.
Bucky had sought Pepper out right after the verdict, as Cary was getting led away in handcuffs, and apologized for taking the case. She had smiled, told him he’d just been doing his job, and not to worry about it. Her best friend, Tony, on the other hand? He’d nearly choked Bucky with his own tie and let Bucky know that Pepper may forgive him, but Tony never would.
Steve hadn’t been there for any of it - he’d just heard all of Bucky’s angst and internal struggles over the phone. That case had changed Bucky and still haunted him.
“No, but that’s old territory, pal,” Steve replied, hoping to stave off a long walk down memory lane that would do nothing but have Bucky in a shame spiral for the rest of the evening. “Now you’re winning awards for your case work on the Innocence Project and everything. It was one case and she already told you she’s not mad.”
“Oh, no, I know,” Bucky shook his head. “Just, you having the kid, it’s all a little… Anyway. I’ll be fine. What courses do they have you doing?”
The pair spent the next several hours going over Steve’s new life and by the time Steve made his way to bed, he was feeling simultaneously terrified and ready to start molding young minds the next day.
Ten Days Later
WhatsApp Chat: Dad&Pete
Dad: Welcome Weekend and the first week of class down. How did it go?
Peter: Fine. First week is all syllabi and meeting our advisor.
Dad: Did you get Sapenstein?
Peter: No, they do interdisciplinary advisors for freshman, so we meet faculty outside of our program. I got a guy in the art department.
Peter: It’s been fifteen minutes. Who are you googling.
Peter: Dad, I think this is a good idea. I’ll probably get Sapenstein once I start my major classes, but this year is all the gen ed requirements and art history is one of them. So, might as well get to know my professor. Broaden my horizons.
Peter: I’m calling Aunt Pep.
Dad: Calm down, I was just analyzing each of the art faculty for suitability. Who did you get?
Peter: Oh, there is no way I’m telling you now.
Dad: Did you get one of the new ones? They don’t have headshots yet.
Peter: Mine’s an adjunct and he seems nice. Friendly. He asked good questions and has a dog that hangs out in his office with him.
Dad: Sounds unsanitary.
Peter: Sounds like an art professor.
Dad: You know I’m going to figure out who you have.
Peter: Maybe I want to make sure you’re not going senile in your old age, empty-nester.
Dad: Whippersnapper, I’ll show you.
Dad: You said ‘he’, so that eliminates four of the adjuncts.
Dad: So, it’s Rogers or Mineharte.
Peter: Good deduction skills, Sherlock.
Dad: Sassing your old man is considered rude in many cultures, you know.
Peter: But in Starklandia it was how I earned my keep.
Peter: Clue - his office smelled like furniture polish.
Peter: Dad?
Peter: Are you actually doing work?
Dad: It’s Rogers. Turpentine. He’s the painter. Mineharte is a critic, not a working artist.
Peter: *slow clap*
Dad: Are you making all the appropriate Mr. Rogers jokes?
Peter: He’s, like, 30 and doesn’t wear sweater vests. Also, he’s a giant. Very different vibe.
Dad: Like Andre levels?
Peter: I don’t think he’s storming the castle anytime soon, no.
Peter: Over 6 foot, though. And built. MJ saw a photo and told me he’s swole.
Peter: I don’t know what that means, so don’t ask me.
Dad: And how is your lady love?
Dad: You know, not answering me isn’t going to deter me.
Dad: Pete. It’s been an hour.
Dad: I know she’s not your girlfriend, Peter. I’m sorry, I’ll stop.
Peter: She’s in your class, you know. Your intro one. With the other 200 freshman.
Dad: Seriously? I make, like, two appearances in that one. I let the TAs teach it. But now that MJ’s in there, I may change course.
Peter: If you torture her in any way, I will find out and I will report you to Aunt Pep.
Dad: I’m the very picture of professionalism, Peter Benjamin. I take deep offense at that.
Peter: I’m walking into Pizza Hut. Meeting some people from my orientation group. Talk later.
Dad: ly3k
Peter: ly3k2
End of September
“He’s fine, you know,” Pepper eyed her best friend over the edge of her wine glass. “It’s been a whole month and he hasn’t gotten arrested or died.”
Tony rolled his eyes at her. “I know he’s fine.”
Her smile softened. “It’s okay to miss him.”
“The house is too quiet,” Tony grumbled. “I’m used to having, what, six or seven teenagers here like all the time. I still have MJ’s favorite cookies in the pantry. It’s just weird and I don’t like it.”
The last words came out on a pout that had Pepper putting down her wineglass and gathering her octopus of a best friend to herself. “Change is hard, Dr. Stark.”
“That’s all you got? The great and wise Virginia Hogan only has ‘change is hard’?”
“Fine,” she kissed the top of his head. “You want ‘well, Tony I told you last year that this would be hard and it would be a good idea to have another project started to throw yourself into or maybe even - god forbid - some therapy’? Because we can go down that route.”
“Change is hard works just fine,” Tony conceded.
Tony and Pepper had been best friends their entire lives, literally. They were placed next to each other in the tiny newborn beds in the hospital and their mothers had become fast friends. Tony had no memories that didn’t include Pepper and vice versa. Pepper was the first person Tony had told he was bisexual, Tony was Pepper’s date to prom because the boy she really liked turned out to be a jackass. He was her first phone call after Happy proposed, and she was his when Sunset had told him she was pregnant. Pepper had basically lived with Tony and Peter for the first year of Peter’s life, and then again for the first few months after Happy had been killed. ‘Family’ didn’t really cover what they were to each other, but the English language was limited and that was the only word they had.
“Is it time to start talking about online dating?” Pepper said quietly and Tony shifted a bit in her embrace.
“Maybe,” came the mumble. He sat up fully a few seconds later and reached for his phone. “I’ve downloaded the app.”
“That’s a great first step,” Pepper replied.
“I’ll set up a profile if you will,” Tony said and Pepper blanched.
“It’s been four years, Pep. Happy would -”
“I know he would,” she said. “But I don’t know if I want to. I just don’t.”
Uncharacteristically, Tony was quiet at that and so Pepper took a moment to gather her thoughts.
“I loved my life with Happy,” she said quietly. “And I’ve come to quite enjoy the life I have now. I miss him some days so much that I’m in physical pain, but most days I like this life. When I meet a man to welcome into this new life, I’ll know. I trusted my gut with Happy and I’ll trust my gut again. But doing an auditioning process, which is what online dating feels like to me, just feels… No, if I meet someone again, I’ll know Happy has sent him to me. No apps. Just humans.”
Tony reached for her hand and threaded his fingers through hers. “I haven’t felt like anything was missing from my life, from our life, me and Pete and you, this little family we hobbled together. Happy was the best uncle I could have ever asked for for Petey, and you just knock it out of the park. But now…”
He shook his head, as though to clear it and nearly lept off the couch.
Ah, Pepper thought to herself. We have reached the emotional quota for the evening.
“Are you staying tonight or heading home?”
“I’ll stay,” she said, knowing that while he wouldn’t talk to her about his loneliness any more, he’d be grateful for another body in the house.
“Then I’ll get more wine for you.”