Chapter Text
Tony Stark had never intended to become a father. In fact, he'd never really intended to be anything at all.
He’d made an oath to himself, at the mere age of eight, that he would never inflict the kind of damage his father had done to him onto anyone else. Even at that age, Tony had understood the weight words carried, the implications actions caused, and how much influence something like a parent could have over someone, and had made the smart choice to never risk that himself.
And if that meant never having kids, then so be it; it wasn't exactly like Tony had dreamed of becoming a father at any point in his life anyway, even before his own had turned out to be nothing more than a useless piece of shit. Tony would live a (hopefully) short, solitary life, without the fear of fucking up someone's innocence preying over him, and die a lonely death at the end of it. It had all been planned out rather meticulously.
Until Tony met Pepper, and then his life quite literally did change forever - and for the better. He wasn't exactly sure what he'd done to deserve the presence of such an angel by his side, but Tony sure as hell wasn't going to take it for granted. And so things had changed, and the burning self-promise Tony had made, all those years ago, felt a little more fiery ever since that addition to his life.
Because suddenly the possibility of children was far more palpable than Tony could've ever prepared for. No longer was it just a faint, almost mythical idea he could throw into the distance and spend the rest of his life running away from; it wasn't just about him anymore - it was also about Pepper. But perhaps the thing that really terrified Tony wasn't the prospect of becoming a father after all, but instead the ounce of warmth that threatened to bubble inside him whenever he dared to picture such a tiny bundle of cells in his arms, one that had Pepper's beautiful blonde hair and Tony's deep, brown eyes. That was what truly petrified the man.
Tony wanted to be a father, for the first time in his life, and he hated himself for it.
The saving grace was that Pepper was hardly in a rush for children. They'd had long conversations about their lives, what they both wanted, what their shared life would look like - and children hadn't been anywhere near the radar. So Tony could relax, somewhat. He could ignore the growing desire within him, and even more pointedly turn a blind eye to the fear that came with it, and focus on loving his wife the way she deserved. Pepper came first, kids came second - if they ever did. That was the plan.
The very plan that was smashed into oblivion the moment Tony had met Peter Parker. Out the window it had been sent, utterly detonated, flying into orbit for the rest of eternity and never to be seen by Tony again.
The realisation had been like a bitch-slap to the face. Somewhere along the way, Tony had gotten the whole idea of parenthood extremely, detrimentally wrong, and now, he was facing the consequences of that in the form of a fifteen-year-old kid from Queens. Because being a father was never a decision Tony would make himself - oh no - it was the very opposite.
Tony hadn't chosen parenthood; it had chosen him, and it was perhaps the happiest accident of the man's entire life.
<>
“Hypothetically speaking, if you could have dinner with any three people in the world, dead or alive, who would you pick?”
Tony tried and failed to hold back a sigh.
“This was the 'urgent' question that just had to warrant a call at almost two in the morning, huh?”
There was a long pause.
“Yes?” Peter replied, sounding rather sheepish; if Tony could see the boy, he’d bet the tips of his ears were burning red as they always did when he was embarrassed.
This was how Tony had found at least three nights a week looking like ever since he’d finally made the internship with Peter official. The events at Homecoming had done a number on both of them, and ever since, as much as the man hated to admit it, he'd felt somewhat responsible for the kid. So, he'd bitten the bullet and invited Peter round for regular, weekly sessions down in his lab, either tinkering on Peter's suit and implementing an upgrade or teaching the kid some of the ropes to Tony's own personal projects. It had been...pleasant, and no doubt a big deal for Peter, whose face had beamed brighter than the sun when he first entered the lab, and had shown no signs of dimming as the weeks went by, the same awe-stricken look never falling from his face each time he was round.
Apparently, this additional time together had only increased the kid's insistence on texting and even calling Tony to update him about anything, at any time. Perhaps Tony should've put a stop to it the first time it happened, but Peter had sounded so eager to tell the man all about his day at school that he couldn't help but kick his feet up and listen to Peter babble on for twenty minutes before rushing off to start his evening patrol. Tony couldn't help it; something within him felt compelled to answer every time the caller ID of 'Underoos' was announced by FRIDAY.
But perhaps it had gone a little too far, seeing as now the kid had started to call in the middle of the night, nonetheless. It was hardly a disturbance for someone like Tony who rarely ever slept at what was considered the normal hours, but he was growing concerned that the fifteen-year-old wasn't getting enough sleep himself, and if Aunt May started to catch on as to why that was, Tony would be six feet under in a matter of seconds.
"You really should be in bed, kid," Tony couldn't help but say, bursting Peter's bubble of excitement momentarily, "I told you no more late-night calls."
"I know, Mr Stark," Peter sighed, "I promise, this is the last one, okay? But seeing as I've already asked the question, well, you may as well answer it anyway - then I promise I'm off to bed."
The hopeful tone in the kid's voice was too much, and Tony, for some horrific reason, couldn't bring himself to say no to Peter.
It was awful, really. The man was seriously at risk of becoming soft.
“Alright, kid, I’ll indulge you, just this once.” Tony kicked his feet up onto the desk, careful not to damage the various stray wires he'd been tampering with before the call had come through. “I can tell you’ve thought about this - what’s your answer?”
“Well, at first, I thought about all the Avengers, you know? Cause they’re cool and all that, and you too, Mr Stark, of course! But, seeing as this includes, like, the whole of history, I wanted to pick some more interesting people, cause like, that’s a lot of people to choose from, you know?. So, anyway, now that I’ve like, really thought about it, I’m going to have to go with Jesus, Luke Skywalker, and Mother Theresa!”
Tony rubbed wearily at his brow, “Kid, I’m not sure fictional characters count.”
“They totally do!” Peter protested, “If I can have dinner with a dead person, then I can definitely have dinner with a fictional character - it counts.”
“Alright, alright,” Tony relented, the corners of his mouth twitching. “But more importantly, Jesus? Really? You’re not some kind of extremist, right, Pete? Because I thought we'd talked about -”
“Oh, no, no, not at all,” Peter said sternly, “I just want to know if he’s like…actually the real deal, you know? Maybe he was just some guy, totally normal just with a really bad habit of lying.”
Tony breathed a silent sigh of relief. “Good, just checking. Why Mother Theresa then?”
“She’s helped a lot of people, and I guess I want to do the same, so I figured she’d have some pretty sound advice for me," Peter paused for a moment before gushing out, "And May would probably kill me if I didn't have at least one woman there, but I promise, Mr Stark, I promise I'm a feminist, okay? Women are like...awesome, and I totally want to have one at my dinner table."
"Relax, Underoos," Tony rolled his eyes at the kid's antics. "Nobody thinks you're a misogynist."
“Phew, that's good then. So, what about you, Mr Stark? Who would you pick?"
“Let’s see,” Tony hummed in thought, digging around in his brain for an interesting answer, embarrassed to find himself actually wanting to provide the kid with a half-decent one. After a moment, he clicked his tongue in satisfaction. “Okay, I got it."
Something that sounded suspiciously like a squeal came from the other end of the call. Tony decided to ignore it.
“First of all, my wonderful wife, Pepper,” Tony began, “Mostly because I love her, but I’m also terrified of what she’ll do if I don’t include her.”
“Smart move, Mr Stark.”
“Secondly, I’m going with Hitler.”
“Oh!” Peter's voice went up an octave, “That’s uh, that’s an...interesting choice.”
Tony shrugged to himself, “Call it morbid curiosity - and so that I can beat the crap out of him whilst I'm at it."
“Huh,” Peter said, “Never thought of it like that.”
“Thirdly, it’s gonna have to be Einstein.”
Peter hummed thoughtfully, “Wow, that is a good choice. I can’t believe I didn’t think of that!”
“Ouch,” Tony grimaced, “You’re making me sound like an even bigger nerd than you.”
“Hey!”
“Only teasing, kid.”
“That’s a great selection, Mr Stark,” Peter said happily, “I knew you’d have a good answer - see? Totally worth a 2 am phonecall.”
Tony swelled with pride, but only a little. He cleared his throat awkwardly.
“And on that note,” he swivelled off his chair and stretched, feeling all the aches and knots pull in his back, “It’s bedtime, kid.”
“Really?” Peter whined, but even Tony could hear the weariness creeping into his voice.
“Yes, Pete. Aunt Hottie would kill me if she even knew I spoke to you this late, especially on a school night.”
Peter sighed, grumbling something inaudible before bidding the man goodnight.
“Sleep tight, kid,” Tony said before hanging up, the lab suddenly growing empty without the post-pubescent teen's voice to fill it. The man convinced himself he was just tired, because there was no way a fully-functioning Tony actually missed the kid after a call that lasted less than ten minutes.
Tony hated kids. He hated everyone, actually. Well, everyone except Pepper, and on the odd occasion Rhodey, when he wasn’t being an ass, of course. But that was the end of Tony's emotional range; that was the limit - it always had been. And there was definitely nothing threatening to change that.
The lab had grown eerie, and Tony cleared his throat pointedly before bidding Friday goodnight and heading up to his room.
It was just a few extra calls here and there. Tony tried to tell himself it was nothing, that he was simply appeasing the hyperactive teen who adored nothing more than asking his mentor stupid, hypothetical questions - that none of it really meant anything.
Because Tony had made a promise, a promise to himself that he was not intent on breaking anytime soon - if ever.