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“Alright, so another one down,” Tony declares and crosses off Platypus from his gift shopping list. Next to him Peter is carrying about 6 shopping bags full of presents and things he desperately needs for his overall happiness like the newest Baby Yoda droid. Tony has never pretended to be immune to any of his kids’ wishes and so this happening is very much expected from all the people in their lives which means he doesn’t even have to feel guilty about it.
“Any ideas for what to get your sister?” Tony asks for probably the hundredth time to which Peter, once more, responds with a shrug. “I don’t think Pepper will be happy with more than we already got her.”
“But it’s not the perfect gift yet,” Tony complains, dragging Peter towards their relatively unremarkable black car parked at the curbside. “That’s all just stuff I panic bought because the perfect idea has not yet come.”
“Yet she’ll still get all of that,” Peter points out and throws the bags on the backseat. “Speaking of, what are you getting me? Are you freaking out about me this much, too?”
Tony glares at the teenager innocently blinking back at him – because it’s been a long, long time that Peter has had to look up at him, both metaphorically and literally. “I thought your present was the green doll you picked out because it’s the only way you’ll ever be happy again,” he mocks.
“It’s not a doll,” Peter gasps in outrage, “It’s The Child!”
“Which is a very fitting doll to get This Child,” Tony deadpans. “Speaking of you, child, how ready are you to stop for sandwiches?”
“For the record,” Peter says, crossing his arms, “I take offense to that. But in my bottomless generosity, I’ll let you apologize with Delmar’s sandwiches.”
“I’m so very lucky.”
“I feel like your heart isn’t really in that.”
Tony laughs at that – deep throated and full-bellied – and pulls Peter into his right side to press a kiss to his curls that he doesn’t even pretend to hate. “I really love you, kid. Now, let’s get sandwiches.” He throws the door closed with his other arm, internally cringing at the loud clonk of metal on metal. Before he has time to dwell on that, his gaze falls back on Peter who is preening at him as if he has just given him the most precious gift in the world.
“I really love Delmar’s,” he grins but doesn’t object to Tony putting his arm around his shoulder while they’re walking along Queens’ busy streets to the Deli store that Tony had made sure had stayed open after the Snap for Peter to come home to. He has to begrudgingly admit that the sandwiches aren’t half bad but, to uphold his image and keep some of his leverage, he still makes sure to never be the one suggesting they go there.
“And I really love gift shopping with you,” Peter adds after they’ve already walked a couple of meters, past stressed business people and happy children with cotton candy and so, so many Santas. “It’s way more relaxed than I imagined and it feels so… normal,” he smiles, “I could get used to this.”
“That’s probably because you’re getting a ton of presents without us calling them presents,” Tony says. “I like it, too,” he quietly adds, careful to walk around a small snowman someone had built on the sidewalk, “I’m glad you’re here to go Christmas shopping with me.”
Peter looks to the side to meet his gaze and even though his words are teasing, his eyes tell the tale of a barrel of emotions that Tony can’t even begin to start naming. “Is Pepper that bad at Christmas shopping?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t know. She still refuses to go shopping with me. I always ended up with Uncle Rhodey and that, let me tell you, wasn’t nearly as much fun.”
They walk in silence for a few minutes after that, enjoying each other’s presence. Right before they get to Delmar’s and on the verge of the atmosphere shifting entirely, Peter speaks up. “I like that you call him Uncle Rhodey,” he admits, “It sounds so much like a family.”
“We are a family,” Tony smiles, taking his arm from Peter’s shoulders and using it instead to open the door, “Though I thought you’d find it weird.”
“Oh, it’s definitely weird,” Peter laughs freely and waves to Mr. Delmar who has already spotted them from down the street, “I’m just saying it’s also kind of nice, dad.”
“Whatever, you heathen,” Tony throws back with an eyeroll. “And good morning to you, Mr. Delmar. The regular for us, please.”
“Double for me, please” Peter interjects innocently, and adds, “What? I had to carry all the bags and now I’m exhausted. I deserve a double portion.”
“I didn’t even have time to argue yet! Calm down, neglected brat,” Tony protests, plopping down on the uncomfortable plastic chair unceremoniously. His prothesis hits the Deli table with a loud clang, almost crushing the cheap thing. Out of reflex he pulls it back with an “Ouch.”
“Are you okay?”
Any trace of mischief has vanished from Peter’s face and he stares at him with wide eyes full of trepidation.
“I’m fine, buddy,” he reassures him gently and, as if to prove his point, reaches out to ruffle the kid’s hair with his metal arm. “Everything’s okay. It didn’t even hurt. Guess that’s something neuroscientists should study – why do we say ‘Ouch’ when we’re not hurt?”
Peter completely ignores his words and instead takes his arm in his hands to study it in search for any possible lesion or dent or whatever the kid thinks a tiny table would do to his very expensive, self-engineered vibranium limb. He lets him anyway, having had far too many of these encounters to know that the kid needed to make sure for himself.
Ultimately, though, he tugs his arm from his grasp. “It’s fine, I promise you, Pete,” he says softly, “Believe me, this arm can withstand a lot. Remember how I beat you in arm wrestling?”
Bit by bit, Peter seems to climb out of his shell once more. “I’m still 110% sure that you cheated.”
“Peter,” he groans, “we talked about anything being about 100%.”
“Oh, so only Morgan can love you 3000%? I sense blatant favoritism.” He snags a French fry from Tony’s plate that Mr. Delmar just set down before thanking the man for the food and starting to divulge his own sandwiches.
They banter their way through the meal and it’s already getting dark outside, the day close enough to being over that Tony is almost inclined to enter it as a win – just a nice, boring day spent with his kid without superhero shenanigans. His messy kid that has spilled half of the mayonnaise onto the table and then tried to wipe it away with some nearby paper packaging. His lovely, normal kid that was definitely not suited up to jump from maniacally high buildings.
Of course, he shouldn’t have entertained the thought because, of course, it’s in that moment that the screen flickering in the background turns to breaking news of a developing bank robbery. And, of course, before he can even blink, his kid has jumped up and is headed to the door.
He runs behind him, cursing at the lack of balance he still struggles with when running. He reaches him in the alley were Peter’s already in the nanite Spider-Man suit, face covered but eyes big. Tony grabs his arm and pulls him deeper into the alley. Once they’re hidden from sight, the mask retracts.
“I know what you’re gonna say,” he says before Tony has the chance to open his mouth, “But I gotta go, Mister Stark. They need me. I can help them.”
And – he’s right, Tony realizes then and there as he looks as his child ready to save the city at the cost of his own health and he nods. Slowly, because it hurts. Because every fiber in his being is yelling at him not to let him go. To shield him from everything. But he nods. And he pulls Peter close into a hug, taking in the smell of his hair as if it was his last chance.
(He ignores the voice that says that it very well might be.)
“I know,” he says, “ruffling his hair and takes a step back – probably the hardest step he’s ever had to take. “Be careful. And let me know if you need anything. I’ll stay in the city until you’re done.”
Now it’s Peter’s time to eye him in concern. “Promise me you won’t try to step in. You haven’t trained since –“
“Don’t get mortally injured and I won’t,” he interrupts him. “Go.”
“I’ll do my best.” And just like that the mask is back on his face, Spider-Man gives him a tiny salute and runs towards the end of the alley. With one last look back he goes for a jump and –
Promptly smacks against a street lamp.
Tony groans, just as Peter yells a “I’m fine, Mister Stark, don’t worry,” climbing the street lamp without breaking his stride making Tony wonder just how often this has happened before. He doesn’t look back when he jumps now and Tony doesn’t look but he hears whooping and sinks back against the brick wall with a deep exhale.
He pulls out his glasses, puts them on and leans his head back against the cold stone. “Keep me updated, F.R.I.D.A.Y.”
This was going to be a long day.