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“You didn’t ask Peter,” Morgan reminded, raising her eyebrows in a ‘come on, Dad,’ gesture that was uncannily like Pepper’s.
Tony sighed, looking across the dining table to where Peter was sitting, biting his lip to keep from smiling.
Morgan had thankfully moved on from her selfish toddler phase, where sharing was a punishment worse than death, and was now is a much nicer, but occasionally no less annoying phase of absolute equality. If Morgan got help cutting her chicken, Peter should get help too. She didn’t seem to care that he was nearly a full-grown adult, more than capable of cutting up his own dinner.
“Pete, do you need help cutting your food?” Tony asked flatly.
Peter smiled innocently up at him. “Yes, please,” he said, throwing a wink at Morgan as she giggled.
Tony pulled on his ear in retaliation, but dutifully leaned over and cut up the chicken, rolling his eyes as Peter smirked up at him.
“You’re doing the dishes tonight,” Tony grumbled as he finished and finally took his own seat. Peter shrugged, unrepentant.
The floor was littered with crayons and coloring books, a movie being ignored in the background, when Tony walked in. His kids were both lying on their stomachs, their feet in the air, as they traded crayons back and forth. Morgan had her tongue poking out between her teeth as she concentrated on getting the fish she was coloring the right shade of purple.
Tony paused in the doorway, happy to watch them for a moment, relish in the fact that this was real, in front of him, not just a dream to be snatched away when he woke up.
Peter asked for the purple crayon once Morgan was finished with it. Morgan peered at his picture, her lips pursed.
“Petey!” she cried, already laughing. “Monkeys aren’t purple!”
“They aren’t?” Peter asked, feigning a look of confusion. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” she insisted, “they’re brown!”
“Well, I want this one to be purple,” Peter said, shrugging. There was a light in his eyes as he teased her that made him look even younger than he already was, that made Tony realize that, blood related or not, he loved her as much as any brother loved his sister.
“Nooo,” Morgan giggled, abandoning her drawing in favor of launching herself at Peter for a playful wrestling match over the purple crayon, which Peter dutifully lost, quickly letting himself be pinned under Morgan with her arms around his neck.
“Psst,” Tony heard Peter stage whisper. “Ask Dad why he’s staring at us like a creep.” Tony rolled his eyes, snorting, as he stepped further into the room.
Morgan looked up at Tony, realizing he was there for the first time.
“Daddy, why are you staring at us like a creep?” she parroted, beaming at him. Peter looked slightly apologetic for teaching her the word ‘creep.’
“Because you’re just so adorable, little miss,” Tony replied, scooping her into his arms as he sat next to Peter, kissing her head as he did so. “And I like seeing Peter get taken down,” he added, dropping a hand onto Peter’s head and brushing the bangs out of his eyes. Peter smiled at him.
“Daddy, you need to kiss Peter, too,” Morgan huffed. “I got a kiss, so Petey needs a kiss.”
“That is the rule, isn’t it?” Tony said dryly. Peter’s smile turned almost apologetic. As much as he loved affection, Tony knew he always felt uncomfortable when he thought Tony was doing it just because of Morgan. The fact that he wasn’t Tony’s biological child always seemed to weigh on him more heavily then.
“It’s ok, Momo, I don’t even like kisses.” It was a vain attempt. Morgan was not one to be questioned.
“Yes, you do, Petey” she argued, then looked at Tony.
“Yes, you do, Petey,” Tony echoed, tugging on Peter’s sleeve until he leaned closer.
Tony pressed a lingering kiss to Peter’s temple. He heard Peter’s almost inaudible sigh, felt the way he leaned into the contact ever so slightly.
“You’re adorable, too,” Tony said lightly as he pulled away, making Peter huff in fond exasperation. “But I’ll keep that to myself in public, if you prefer.”
Peter hummed in agreement, laughing quietly.
“Anyway, it’s bedtime for the kiddies.” Tony stood, groaning a little. Morgan dropped her head on his shoulder, yawning.
“Will you tuck me in, Daddy?”
“Of course, baby.”
“And then Peter, too?”
Tony made eye contact with Peter, whose smile was soft and fond and wonderful.
Tony felt his own expression soften, his mouth turning up at the corner as they made eye contact.
“And then I’ll tuck Peter in, too, yeah,” Tony said, winking at Peter, who grinned back. “Read him a bedtime story, check under his bed for monsters, the works.”
Later, after Morgan had brushed her teeth and been read to sleep, Tony peeked into Peter’s room. The kid was already asleep, desperate to utilize his weekend hours to make up on sleep he’d missed during the school week. Tony crossed to the bed, pulling the covers up a little higher around his shoulders.
“Well, looks like you skipped the bedtime story, huh, buddy?” Peter snored in response. Tony leaned down and kissed his forehead.
“Goodnight, Pete,” he whispered, and left the room.