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Time #1: After A Battle
“Mr. Stark?” Peter’s voice is high pitched with fright and Tony nearly falls from the sky at the sound, his repulsers attempting to stabilize him as the man faltered. “I-I need some help over here-- AH!”
Tony let’s out a curse, immediately turning around and blasting towards where his son is fighting, dodging gigantic evil robot claws along the way. The city zooms by below him in a stream of meshed grays and silvers.
Finally, he makes it to where the spiderling is, knocking away an alien as Peter aims more webs.
“Don’t worry, buddy, I gotcha.” Tony says into the coms, shooting a pulse light blue beam at the closest robot. It goes down with a high pitched whir. “Where are you hurt?”
“My-My side.” The boy gasps out, raising up one shaking, suit clad hand to wave up at the man. “But it’s o-okay, Mr. Stark, I can still fight.”
Tony shakes his head under his helmet, pausing in the air to give the spiderling a firm stare. “No can do, kiddie. Don’t forget, I can read your vitals in my suit. Go to the nearest rooftop and wait for the signal for when it’s safe.”
Peter, thankfully, actually listens to the genius for once, the sounds of his harsh breathing and tiny, gasping whimpers tearing at his father’s heart as the boy jumps onto a nearby roof.
Luckily, Tony can’t detect any blood and goes back to blasting all the robots as fast as possible.
Finally, Tony manages to get all the alien robo bastards taken down, flying over the remaining piles of still smoldering ash to where Peter still sits. The boy perks up a bit as Tony lands near him, but when the billionaire leans in closer, he can see that Peter’s doe eyes are bright with pain and fear.
“Hey, bambi.” Tony basically coos, stepping out of his suit the second it touches down and gently reaching out for his trembling kid. “You really got the wind knocked out of you, huh?”
Peter just nods, cuddling closer to the man and sniffling, reaching up and wrapping his arms around his mentor’s neck. Tony pulls him even closer, gently running one hand through Peter’s soft curls and using the other to feel along his ribs for breaks.
Finding none, Tony leans down and gently presses his lips against Peter soft cheek, the boy’s skin warm. Peter leans even further against him, sagging so that his other cheek is pressed up against the billionaire’s chest, the arc reactor cold against his heated skin.
“Come on, oh sweet Spider-Baby of mine, let’s go home and watch a movie.” Tony says as he gently begins to lead them back to wear his suit rests, his grip on his son never faltering even as the boy stumbles along.
Time #2: After A Nightmare
Tony barges into Peter room just in time for the boy to jerk up in bed, his eyes wide in fright as he lets out a sharp cry.
“Hey.” Tony whispers, stepping closer and raising his palms up in the universal sign of surrender when Peter flinches at the sound. “Hey, bambino, it’s okay.”
Peter’s eyes find his in the semi-darkness, the boy’s whole body starting to shake as he reaches out towards his father, his fingers curling as sharp sobs split the air around him. “Tony.”
Tony moves forward as fast as he can, knees knocking against the side of the spiderling’s bed as he leans down, gathering the crying boy into his arms.
Peter buries his face in the man’s chest, practically dragging his mentor down onto the ruffled sheets.
“Hey, hey.” Tony coos, brushing back Peter’s soft curls as he shifts so that his kid is leaned against his side, his knees touching Tony’s from where the boy is curled up under the covers “It’s alright, baby. I’m here, shh.”
“I-I was there.” Peter whines, gripping the front of Tony’s night shirt with white knuckles. “I was there again and-and I was leaving--fading away--”
“You aren’t.” Tony him off, pressing his lips against Peter’s cheek. The billionaire speaks against his kid’s wet, tear stained skin. “You aren’t there anymore, buddy. You’re alive and you’re whole and I’m never letting anything happen to you ever again.”
Peter just sobs harder in response and Tony clutches his spiderling closer, rocking them back and forth and pressing small kisses against Peter’s cheeks and temples.
It’s another 30 minutes before the boy calms down again.
Time #3: During A Movie Marathon
“Are you sure you wanna watch--” Tony squints at the TV screen from his place on the couch. “ Mamma Mia! Again, kiddie?”
“Yep!” Peter chirps from his cocoon of blankets, only his tousled bed head and rosy cheeks visible as he leans back further against the cushions. “And if we hurry, we might even be able to watch the second one tonight, too!”
“There’s a second one? Oh Lord, save me.”
Peter pouts, pointing with a blanket covered hand at the television. “Oh please, Mr. Stark, you love this movie too, don’t lie.”
“What? No, I don’t. I don’t even know what gave you that idea--”
“Friday showed me a video of you singing ‘Dancing Queen' in your lab a few nights ago.”
“What?!” Tony glares up at the ceiling as Peter giggles next to him, leaning against his side as the billionaire settles back down in his usual spot. “Friday, you betrayer.”
“You do have a nice voice, Boss.” Friday says and Peter laughs again, his whole body shaking against Tony’s arm. “ And Mr. Parker asked me so politely. ”
“Little shits, the both of you.” Tony grumbles, the insult losing its heat when he reaches around to wrap a gentle arm around his son’s shoulders, pulling the teen further against his side.
“But you love us anyways.”
“Can’t argue with that, bambi.”
Peter rests his head against his mentor’s chest, his doe eyes reflecting the flickering of the TV when Tony glances down at him. The sight of him, snuggled up under the blanket, safe in Tony’s arms, is enough to make the genius have to swallow an unexpected lump in his throat.
Leaning down, Tony ruffles the kid’s hair, Peter wrinkling his nose at the feeling but making no move as to block his father figure’s hand. Laughing a bit at the boy’s face, Tony presses a quick kiss against his cheek before turning back to the movie.
And if Peter snuggles closer and falls asleep halfway through, well, no one but Tony has to know.
He does, however, get plenty of pictures for May and for his own wallet. A cute spider-baby is not something that can be admired only once, after all.
Time #4: When Peter Is Sick
Tony presses the spoon closer to his son’s mouth, watching with a sinking heart as the boy turns his face away with a grimace of pain.
“Oh come on, bud.” The billionaire says, stirring the chicken and star soup currently sitting on his lap, shifting closer to the sick spiderling as Peter sniffs. “Just one bite, please.”
“No, Mr. Stark.” Peter says, his voice raspy and filled with mucus. Tony winces in sympathy at the sound. “Not hungry, hurts. Please.”
Tony sighs, setting down the bowl on the side table and pressing his now free hand against the teen’s forehead. The heat he can still feel radiating off his son pulls his lips in a frown and the genius gently brushes back Peter’s sweat soaked curls with his fingers.
“I know it hurts, baby, but you gotta eat. That’s how your body get its energy so you feel better.”
But Peter shakes his head again, his small body getting racked with a shiver so violent that his teeth chatter. Cooing softly under his breath, Tony pulls the blanket further up the spiderling’s torso, grabbing the spoon once Peter has settled back down.
“Please, bambo.” The man begs, holding up the utensil. He almost wants to start making airplane noises but refrains, knowing that Peter definitely won’t eat if he thinks Tony is making fun of him. “Just eat one bite and see how you feel. For me?”
That seems to gather the boy’s attention and he looks at Tony with doe eyes bright with fever and pain.
It makes the billionaire’s heart ache to see his normally cheerful and happy son so sick and hurting.
“Just one--” Peter whispers, cutting himself off to cough a little. “--one bite?”
“Yeah, Petey-Pie.” Tony says with a small nod, shifting the spoon even closer to the boy. “Unless you want more.”
That is enough to convince Peter apparently and he hesitantly opens his mouth, allowing his mentor to gently scoop some warm soup onto his tongue.
Grimacing, the spiderling swallows with a wince, his eyes scrunching up in pain for a few seconds before he relaxes.
Looking up at Tony’s questioning look, the young superhero opens his mouth again, reminding his father of a desperate baby bird.
“See, baby.” Tony says with a laugh. “I knew you were hungry.”
Peter’s eyes desperately say for him to shut up but Tony is too relieved to care. Leaning down, the billionaire presses a sweet kiss against his son’s cheek once the boy swallows, moving back just in time to see that Peter’s face has gone beet red from embarrassment.
He finishes the entire bowl though, and Tony presses another kiss to Peter’s other cheek in celebration, humming under his breath when the kid just leans further into him.
Gently helping the still shivering spiderling back under the covers, the man smoothes his thumbs across Peter’s temples as the boy closes his eyes.
“Get some rest, bubba.” Tony whispers. “You’ll feel a lot better when you wake up, I promise.”
But Peter is already asleep before his head even hits the pillow, his nose whistling in tiny, kitten like snores that never fail to make Tony melt with affection.
God, he loves this kid so fucking much.
Time #5: When Peter Is Sleepy
Tony has a lap full of a tired spider-baby before he could even blink.
Peter lands on the billionaire’s legs from where the man is lounging on the couch, a StarkPad resting across his knees. Tony startles a bit, nearly dropping the electronic as he reaches out to grab onto Peter’s upper arm, stopping the kid from rolling off the cushions.
“Whoah there, buddy!” Tony says, setting his pad on the side table, and pulling Peter up against his chest. “Warn a man before you attack him with cuddles.”
Peter makes a muffled noise of confirmation, smushing his baby face even further against Tony’s shirt, sniffling. Smoothing his son’s soft hair back, the billionaire hums under his breath.
“Comfy?” Tony asks, only partly sarcastic.
Peter nods against his father figure’s chest. “Hmm, very.”
“Okay, bambino. Just checking.”
The spiderling nuzzles closer, bringing his legs closer to his own chest and reaching to wrap his limp arms around Tony’s torso. Laughing a little, the genius scratches gently at the boy’s scalp, untangling knots as he goes, tucking Peter’s unruly hair behind his ears.
“Try not to actually fall asleep on me.” The superhero whispers, adjusting both of them so that he can continue reading from his StarkPad, his free hand still buried in Peter’s soft curls. “My back can’t handle carrying you to bed 2 nights in a row, Spidey.”
The only response Tony gets is a muffled snore, Peter’s breathing evening out as he slumps even further against his mentor.
Shaking his head with a sigh, Tony leans down and presses a sweet kiss against his son’s cheek, the boy’s breath tickling his forehead.
Peter snorts at the sensation, wrinkling his button nose before he turns his head into the crook of Tony’s neck, right where the billionaire’s neck meets his shoulder.
Tony rolls his eyes, lifting up Peter higher into his arms and goes back to reading his reports.
The sore back he does indeed get the next day is worth having his spider-baby safe and warm in his arms.
1: Tony Gets Son Smooched
By the time Bruce gets done patching Peter up, Tony is about to pass out from pure relief, stress and exhaustion all at once.
It was supposed to be an easy mission, one that would get the young hero used to the real deal stuff, and give him lessons in how to be diplomatic even when talking with potentially dangerous people.
Too bad the person closest to Peter had been the one with the knife.
God, Tony can still remember Peter’s sharp cry of pain, the way the knife had sailed through the air and lodged itself right into the boy’s shoulder.
The way the spiderling had gone down, blood streaming down his side as he had cried out Tony’s name, his arms outstretched.
The way the criminal’s jaw bone had broken under the force of the enraged father’s punches, how Peter had looked so small and pale, cradled in his dad’s arms as the man cried out for help. . .
Shaking his head to clear the darkening thoughts, Tony takes a deep breath and walks back into the med bay, keeping his chin held high even as his heart races.
“Mr. Sta’!” Peter cries as soon as he sees him, waving at his mentor as the man gets closer.
His smile is a little too wide, his doe eyes bright from the painkillers, but Tony doesn’t care.
“Hi, bubba.” Tony says, stopping at the head of the boy’s bed and gently reaching out to brush his kid’s hair back. “How are you feeling?”
Peter smiles even wider, pointing with a slightly shaking hand at his bandaged shoulder. “I got stabbed, Mr. Stark! See?”
Tony swallows, seeing Bruce enter out of the corner of his eye. “Yeah, I know, kiddie. I was there.”
“You punched the-the bad man, Mr. Stark.” Peter says, nuzzling back against Tony’s hand as the billionaire cups his cheek. “My side feels funny.”
Bruce speaks up from where he is adjusting some sort of dial on the side of the bed, directing his words more at Tony than at the slowly blinking spiderling. “It’s just the painkillers. They should wear off in around an hour and I’ll set him up on a more moderate dosage.”
Tony nods, giving his friend a grateful smile before turning his attention back to his son, watching as the boy starts to pick at the white cloth wrapped around his upper arm, his baby face drawn in confusion.
“Don’t do that, buddy.” Tony says, gently grabbing onto the boy’s wrist and tugging his hand down to his side. “Don’t touch those, okay? We need to keep the wound clean.”
“Am I gonna die?”
Peter’s suddenly innocent question, made somehow even worse by his dopey smile and his flowy movements, cuts straight to Tony’s heart and the genius has to take a deep breath before speaking.
“No, baby.” His grip on Peter tightens, and the man swallows. “No, you aren’t dying.”
“Promise?”
Peter blinks up at him, his eyes so trusting even drugged up that Tony has to lean against the bed to keep his knees from trembling. Sitting down in the chair Bruce drags up behind him, the superhero leans forward and cups his kid’s jaw, forcing Peter to look him straight in the eyes.
“I swear, Pete. Swear on my own life.”
Peter’s eyes suddenly widen and Tony had a second of heart wrenching panic, one that makes his blood go ice cold in his veins, before the teen lifts up a hand and brings it to Tony’s face.
“Mr. Stark?” Peter asks, his too bright eyes narrowed as he frowns. “Why a-are you crying?”
He is?
Reaching up to touch his own cheek, the man is surprised to find hot tears trailing down towards his chin, the sheer force of his own crying starting to get worse as he sits there.
Sniffling, Tony shakes his head, looking from Peter’s face to his hands, where they both sit clutching his son’s free one.
“It’s nothing, bambino --”
A sudden pressure against his right cheek cuts Tony off, however, and he watches in surprise and fascination as Peter leans back from where he had sat up. A proud, if not slightly drugged up smile is stretching the young superhero’s mouth and Tony’s lips starts to rise in return.
“You always k-kiss me when I’m sad.” Peter says, laying back against his pillow and shifting so that he is cuddled even closer towards the still shocked genius. “They make me feel safe. Thought it might help you-you too.”
Feeling his throat start to tighten, all Tony can do is reach out and gently pull the boy into his arms. Peter makes a slight noise of surprise before melting into the embrace, resting his head against his mentor’s chest.
“Thanks, kiddo.” Tony whispers, leaning back and pressing a soft kiss against his kid’s forehead.
They stay like that until Peter falls asleep, drooling a little against Tony’s shirt as the man rubs soothing circles into his back and brushes his curls from his face.
Pressing his face against Peter’s soft hair, Tony breathes in his son’s familiar smell, his cheek still tingling from the kiss the boy had dropped against his skin.
What he did to ever deserve a kid like Peter Parker, the billionaire may never know.
What he does know, however, is he will do everything in his power to keep his son safe and happy.
Starting with many more cheek kisses. That’s a promise.