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Anthony Edward Stark-Rogers never thought he’d ever chance upon the day that he’d feel suffocated in his own lab, the one place he ran to calm himself and think clearly. He’d had the place originally made to suit his needs, his sense of space but despite how much he loved his boys and was proud of their great interest in technology and robotics, there were just too many people in his thinking space.
He let out a heavy sigh, arms crossed over his chest as he looked at the messy room. It had never been this messy when he’d been the only one in here and Tadashi wasn’t a problem since he was neat and clean but there was Peter and Hiro who just threw things wherever. And not even Dummy could keep up with the housekeeping.
Peter, their first child, was on his work table testing out his shooters and trying to make them more efficient. There was Tadashi who was working on some balloon head and Tony really had to wonder what the boy had up in his head because he’d just received a receipt for 500 meters of vinyl. And finally, there was Hiro, the youngest and probably the smartest, rebuilding his Megabot—a small robot that wobbled whenever it moved (for someone smart, Tony wondered why he couldn’t fix the annoying wobbling).
He loved his boys but this has got to stop. It’d been weeks since he’d last had a breakthrough for his suit and other things Steve requested of him. He needed his space and children or not, they were going to get kicked out of his man space.
“All right, Tinkerbells, out.”
Three heads looked up from their respective projects and turned to him with varying looks: Peter was amused, Tadashi confused and Hiro annoyed (most likely at the nickname but it was his in his right to tease his kids).
“I can’t breathe with you pixies here so out. None of you get to use the lab while I’m in it, capiche?”
The humor in Peter’s eyes faded and like his brothers, he stared wide-eyed at Tony, as if their father had just told them they were banned from the lab (which was kind of the case).
“Dad, you can’t—”
“—Seriously, Dad? You’re—”
“—you don’t even leave the lab!”
Ah, that was music to his ears and Tony didn’t bother to hide his smirk. He jutted his thumb to the direction of the door, loving the looks on his kids’ faces.
“You heard the boss, boys, out—before I tell your Uncle Clint you miss his tuna casserole—”
“That’s low!” Peter gasped but grabbed his materials and shoved them in his backpack, “that’s just low, Dad!”
Tadashi sighed and threw his balloon head into a box of vinyl and carried it in one arm while the other was pulling the youngest by the hood towards the door, following Peter.
“I’m telling you to Pops, old—” Hiro threatened but was cut when the doors closed after him.
Tony inhaled deeply, feeling his game coming back.
“JARVIS, put the last five minutes into storage, would you? File it under Dad Pwns All.”
“Very well, sir.”