Chapter Text
Tony was late. That in and of itself wasn't exactly unusual, he was notoriously known for being slovenly as fuck, yet despite that, with some unsought but certainly warranted encouragement from Pepper and Stane's perpetual presence lingering over him- he really had improved on his tardiness.
Which was made this entire situation all the more embittering. Tony ran a fraught hand through his hair-scrambling to fucking figure his shit out. His stupid tie was being uncooperative, the word sleep had forfeited its meaning ages ago and for the love of god where the fucking hell was his-
"D-Dad?"
Tony paused, eyes encountering ones practically indistinguishable from his own. Peter was clutching tightly onto his favorite blanket - the dark blue one with infinitesimal stars scattered rather haphazardly across it.
He stared up at Tony with wide eyes and an incredibly disarming pout.
"Hey kiddo", Tony stated softly, lowering himself gingerly to get to Peter's level.
"What are you doing up so early buddy?"
"'M not really tired", Peter mumbled, raising his hands and wiggling his fingers- patently indicating that he would like to be lifted up.
Tony blinked. Once. Then twice before he decidedly thrust all his 'Pepper is going to fucking murder me and I'm still very much fucking late-" concerns to the back of his mind and lifted Peter up in his arms , the movement familiar in the way things exposed to reiteration typically were.
He adjusted his hold on Peter, positioning him so that he rested comfortably on Tony's side. Tony then proceeded to debate what his next move would be.
He could- technically- cancel the meeting, flag a 'Peter emergency' and Pepper would sigh, reschedule, and give Tony a penetrative look that made him slightly squirm and allowed room for filaments of guilt to tickle him even though he was well aware (they both were), that regardless, he would continue his customary behaviour.
He could choose to dip and Stane wouldn't even bat an eye, well accustomed to Tony's arguably insupportable antics. Undeclared disappointment would hang in the air, ever-present but never quite wholly expressed.
But there was something, something dense and profuse and weirdly potent- something he didn't quite have a name for- stopping him.
The brilliant idea that materialised in his head was that he should simply bring his kid with him to the meeting.
He glanced at Peter, whose head was resting snugly on Tony's shoulder, awake as much as a four year old could be at eight AM in the morning.
He looked utterly adorable, blown out pupils coupled with eyes still fuzzy from sleep, chestnut curls unkempt, tousled in varying directions. He looked absolutely perf-
"Incoming call from Pepper Potts, would you like me to accept?"
FRIDAY'S voice blared through the penthouse, reminding Tony that staring intently at your son did not, in fact, mitigate the fact that you were late and that he very urgently needed to get a move on.
"Decline. Decline, decline, decline- FRI , don't you dare answer that call", Tony swore and the hastening resumed, Peter still lazily soldered to his side.
Tony did a quick, concluding check, confirming he had everything before setting Peter down and inspecting him. When Tony deemed him satisfactory enough for a semi-public appearance (he had rumpled Peter's hair-if possible- even further and had run a hand over his pjs to passably smooth them over. He looked fine and additionally, he was also 4.), hefted him once more and at last, departed through the door- with Peter in tow.