Archive of Our Own ^beta

When the team trudged their way up to Tony’s penthouse after the battle with the Chitauri, they expected eccentric decor, maybe a robot or two, and Tony’s sharp tongue. What they didn’t expect was a little boy sprinting into the room, tears streaking his small, dirt-smeared face.

He froze mid-step, his brown eyes scanning the unfamiliar faces with growing panic. He took a cautious step back, arms folding over his chest as though it might protect him.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he said, his small voice trembling but trying to sound authoritative. “Daddy’s gonna be really mad if he sees you, so… you should just leave.”

Natasha, ever the diplomat, crouched slightly, softening her posture. “Hey, it’s okay,” she said, voice gentle. “We’re not here to hurt you. Maybe we can help. Who’s your daddy?”

The boy’s glare intensified, though tears continued to pool in his eyes. “Daddy said I can’t talk to strangers.”

The team exchanged confused glances. Steve, still holding his shield, shifted awkwardly, while Clint quickly motioned for everyone to hide their weapons. He stepped forward and crouched to the boy’s level.

“Hey, kid,” Clint began, his tone casual. “I get it—stranger danger. You’re right not to trust people you don’t know. But maybe you can tell us your dad’s name? We might know him.”

For a moment, it looked like the boy might relent, but his small fists clenched tighter, and he shook his head furiously.

“There’s no need for further interrogation,” a calm, robotic voice interjected from the ceiling. “I’ve already contacted Sir. He is en route.”

“Who said that?” Thor asked, looking around for the source of the disembodied voice.

“J.A.R.V.I.S.,” Steve muttered, recognizing the voice from earlier.

Before anyone could process further, the elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, and Tony Stark came barreling out. His tie was loose, his armor still battered from the battle, and his eyes immediately locked on the boy.

“Peter!” Tony’s voice was sharp with worry as he crossed the room in long strides.

Peter’s reaction was instant. His face crumpled as he let out a choked sob and bolted toward Tony, throwing himself against his father’s chest. Tony caught him effortlessly, his arms wrapping around the boy as though he were the most fragile thing in the world.

“Where were you?” Peter’s words were muffled as he buried his face in Tony’s neck. “It was so scary, Daddy.”

“I know, buddy. I know. I’m sorry,” Tony murmured, one hand smoothing down Peter’s wild curls. He pressed a lingering kiss to the top of his head, his grip tightening protectively. “I’m here now. You’re okay.”

The Avengers stood frozen, shock rippling through the group.

“What…?” Clint broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper.

Tony finally looked up, his expression shifting from worry to sharp irritation as he took in the room’s occupants. “Great. Just what I needed—an audience.”

Steve stepped forward cautiously. “Tony… you’re a dad?”

Tony’s eyes flickered down to Peter, who was still trembling slightly in his arms. He pressed another kiss to his temple before answering, his tone dry. “Yup. Been one for six years now. Surprise!”

Peter sniffled and lifted his head just enough to glare at the team. “They’re strangers, Daddy. You said strangers aren’t allowed here.”

“You’re absolutely right, kiddo,” Tony agreed, shooting the Avengers a pointed look. “And yet, here they are, violating every single house rule. Rude, isn’t it?”

“Very rude,” Peter mumbled, leaning back into Tony’s chest.

Natasha crossed her arms, trying not to smile. “You didn’t think this was worth mentioning before now, Stark?”

Tony shrugged one shoulder. “It’s called compartmentalizing, Romanoff. You should try it sometime.”

“Tony,” Steve cut in, his brow furrowed. “Is he… okay? Where was he during the battle?”

At the question, Tony’s jaw clenched. “In the care of someone I trusted, who clearly decided her job wasn’t worth sticking around for.” He glanced down at Peter again. “You’re not hurt, right? Tell me if anything feels off.”

“I’m okay,” Peter sniffled, wiping at his face. “But…” He hesitated before continuing, his voice dropping to a whisper. “She ran away when those things started flying through the air. She said I’d be safe here, so she didn’t take me with her.”

Tony froze, his expression hardening. “Meredith left you? Alone?”

Peter nodded, his small hand clutching Tony’s shirt. “She said she’d come back, but she didn’t.”

Tony struggled to tamp down the fury crawling up his chest, his jaw tightening. Meredith had been entrusted with his son’s safety—her one job—and she had failed in the worst possible way. He would see her again, but it wouldn’t be in a conversation. No, he’d be staring her down across a courtroom, making sure she paid for her negligence.

“She shouldn’t have done that,” Tony said tightly, pressing another kiss to Peter’s temple. “She’ll never do it again, I promise you.”

The rest of the team stayed silent, uncharacteristically unsure of how to proceed. Tony looked at them again, a sharp edge returning to his voice.

“Alright, show’s over. You’ve all seen the kid, you’ve processed the shock—now leave.”

“Tony—” Steve started, but Tony cut him off.

“Not now, Cap,” Tony said firmly, his eyes flicking to Peter. “We’ll talk about this later. Right now, I have a very important six-year-old to take care of.”

Reluctantly, the team began to file toward the elevator, their steps heavy with questions left unasked.

As the doors closed behind them, Tony let out a long breath, holding Peter just a little tighter.

“You okay, Pete?”

“Yeah,” Peter murmured, his small fingers clutching at Tony’s shirt. “Don’t let them come back, okay?”

Tony smirked faintly. “Don’t worry, kiddo. Nobody’s getting near you without going through me first.”