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Tony had believed his parents’ deaths was the single event that divided his life into ‘before’ and ‘after’. But then came an ill-fated business trip overseas and suddenly his life was now characterized before and after Iron Man. That was until the day a social worker flanked by two police officers appeared on the front steps of his Malibu mansion, cradling a two-week-old baby in her arms. His baby to be more exact, a fact he didn’t come to terms with until the third positive paternity test. The mother had died from complications relating to the birth and in between her last few breaths uttered the name of the father to one of the nurses.
He flat out refused to let them enter his home, threatening to drown their entire respective departments in lawsuits until Pepper appeared at his side, taking complete control over the situation.
He could barely recall the events of the days following the visit, mostly filled with paternity tests, meetings with his PR and legal teams, and stacks upon stacks of paperwork and documents. It ended with him having to swallow the biggest pill in his life and not a moment later his son was placed in his arms for the first time.
“Peter,” He whispered, calling out the sleeping little babe by the name his mother gave him before passing away. Peter let out a little yawn before fluttering his eyes open, glancing up at his father. And at that moment, Tony’s previous life faded away as his new one began.
And it was by no means an easier one as evident now by the wails emitting from his three-month-old baby.
“Baby, you’ve got to sleep,” Tony cooed, bouncing Peter in his arms as he paced back and forth around his bedroom. The tiny babe refused Tony’s begging. Instead, he cried harder causing his pink face to become beet red, terrifying the single father.
“Shh,” Tony whispered, sitting down in the rocking chair in the corner, hoping the motion would put Peter at ease.
The entire ordeal had been going on for almost an hour at this point. Started with Peter waking up crying just a few minutes after Tony had laid him down in his crib and it got worse by the minutes. He was at a complete loss on how to calm his son down. He examined every probable cause - dirty diaper, hungry, sick - but none seemed to be the reason for this situation. He was entirely out of solutions and at this point he wondered if either one of them was going to get any sleep until morning.
“Oh, baby, I wish I knew what was wrong,” Tony confessed, repositioning Peter until he was resting on his chest, being careful of his arc reactor. The baby grasped the front of his shirt with both his hands, his tiny body trembling with cries. Tony closed his eyes, cradling Peter close as gently rested his cheek on top of the baby’s head before starting to rock back and forth.
“Close your eyes, sweetheart. Just close your eyes, baby. Daddy’s here, you’re okay,” Tony murmured. He continued his mantra softly and unintentionally his words began to be replaced, by those once spoken by his mother.
“Chiudi gli occhi mio tesor, dolce amor, dolce amor,” Tony hummed, memories of his mother singing those same words to him springing up in his mind as Peter’s grip loosened while his crying started to simmer down.
Tony smiled warmly, pressing a kiss to the top of his baby’s head and rubbed a gentle hand down the small back. “Chiudi gli occhi mio tesor, dolce amor, dolce amor, fa la nanna sul mio cuore, dolce amor, dolce amor.”
A few minutes later, his voice began to taper off as he glanced down at the sleeping baby in his arms and for the first time that night he allowed himself to breathe. He closed his eyes, resting back more easily on the chair, softly running his fingers over Peter’s tiny curls. He didn’t feel quite ready to let go of his son just yet (and he knows he’ll never be).
Tony gives a silent prayer as he carefully stands up from the chair a few minutes later, trying not to jostle Peter around too much. He tiptoes towards the crib a few feet away, holding his precious cargo close. He can’t resist pressing his lips to Peter’s forehead before laying him down in his crib. Peter lets out a small breathe, nose scrunching for a few seconds before he relaxes.
Tony breathes a sigh of relief, reaching down to stroke his baby’s cheek gently. “I love you, bambino.”