Work Text:
ONE - The Guy In The Chair Always Has The Best Ideas
Peter had a problem. A really big one. A problem that had been freaking him out and giving him anxiety for more than a month now: Mr. Stark was his father. Not his surrogate father (though Peter had come to think of him that way in the last year), but his actual, legitimate, biological father. When Peter had told Ned he couldn’t understand how this had happened, Ned had laughed himself silly and had started to explain the birds and the bees to him. Thanks Ned.
Mr. Stark was a billionaire. A genius. The head of a multi-billion dollar tech company (the biggest most innovative tech company on the planet). He was also Iron Man. Peter’s heart fluttered every time he thought about it. My father is Iron Man. He’d been certain he was over the whole hero worship thing after he’d started to spend time with Mr. Stark after the incident with the Vulture and the plane crash, but apparently not. Iron Man. I’m the son of freaking IRON MAN!
It didn’t help that Ned, who had never gotten over his hero worship of Iron Man despite that his best friend was Tony Stark’s official intern, didn’t think that this was as big of a deal as Peter did. To be fair though, Ned also thought Spider Man was on the same level as Iron Man and the other Avengers, and thought Peter should think more of himself.
“Dude, you’re Spider Man, and you’re a genius. You have the highest IQ at Midtown. I mean, it kind of makes sense, doesn’t it? If you’re Mr. Stark’s son? Just tell him already.”
It wasn’t as simple as Ned made it out to be. Peter wished it was. Peter was smart, but he wasn’t a genius. Peter wasn’t business savvy, he didn’t look sharp and he wasn’t able to banter back and forth with sharp wit like Mr. Stark could. And yes, he was Spider Man and had brought down the Vulture and had helped Mr. Stark in Germany, but there was a fact Ned had been overlooking: Peter wasn’t heir material. He was just Peter. He was apparently Mr. Stark’s biological son (what a shock that had been to find out!), but he was still just Peter. If Mr. Stark found out about this… if Peter told him about this revelation, then Mr. Stark would be disappointed to have Peter as a son. Peter had always wanted Mr. Stark to like him… to like Spider Man, and to like Peter’s ideas in the lab. He couldn’t stand to tell Mr. Stark now that he was his son and then have Mr. Stark look at him in disappointment.
“Dude,” Ned said as they sat in Ned’s room one Saturday afternoon. Peter had stayed the night to finish a joint project for robotics class, and was avoiding going home to his own apartment. He’d been avoiding May since he’d found out about his hidden relationship to Mr. Stark. He didn’t want to hurt her. His life had felt like it had been turned sideways and he didn’t want to do that to May too. “It’s really not as big of a deal as you think it is. I mean, it is, right? Because who wouldn’t want to be Iron Man’s son? But you’re already close to him. He’d want to know.”
“Sure, he’d want to know so he could kick me out. I’d lose the internship…” Peter would lose everything if Mr. Stark didn’t take the news well.
“He loves you. You’re being ridiculous. He wouldn’t kick you out. He’d probably be shocked, but who wouldn’t be to find out they have a son they didn’t know about but that they’ve already been spending time with?”
Peter rolled onto his side on Ned’s bed to stare at his friend, who was fiddling with the robotic arm they still had to finish at his desk. “How do you know? How can you just say that? You sound so sure.”
“Which part?”
“That he loves me. I’m just an intern. I’m a random kid that he snuck into Germany to help him fight Captain America.”
“Except you’re not,” Ned said.
“He doesn’t know I’m his son though.”
“Which is why you should tell him.” Ned picked up a screwdriver and started adjusting a piece on the metal release system on the arm.
“Neddd,” Peter whined, elongating his name. “You didn’t answer me. Why are you so sure he loves me? It’s not like he’s ever said it to me. Like I said, I’m just an intern, biology not included.”
“Huh, let’s see,” Ned said, staring up at his ceiling as if he was lost in thought. His tone was on the edge of sarcasm, but Peter valued what he had to say, especially since Ned was the only one who knew. Ned had been there in the lab with him when he’d found out. It was the one and only time Ned had been to Stark Tower with him. Mr. Stark had been away on business, and FRIDAY had given Peter permission to bring Ned up so they could borrow a soldering iron from Mr. Stark’s lab since Peter’s had broken and they had a robotics project due the next day. That had turned into them working on their project in the lab instead of just taking the soldering iron and leaving, which had turned into Peter cutting his finger on a sharp piece of metal and bleeding all over the place. Peter still wasn’t certain how FRIDAY knew, but she’d somehow analyzed the blood from his cut finger and then pulled up a DNA test on the holo screen in front of Peter and Ned. Both of them had spent a full minute just staring at it, slack jawed. ‘DNA confirmed, ‘Peter Benjamin Parker: Father - Anthony Edward Stark.’
“You’re an intern,” Ned said, bringing Peter’s mind back to the present.
“Yeah,” Peter said slowly.
“But you watch movies in his penthouse with him.”
Peter didn’t say anything to that, he just stared at his friend, who looked like he was willing him to get the point. When Peter didn’t, Ned said, “Do regular interns watch movies with their boss?”
“No-”
“And,” Ned said, cutting him off, “you stay the night over there sometimes. Regular interns don’t do that.”
“Ok but that’s because we work really late sometimes.”
Ned pointed his screwdriver at him. “Last week you stayed the night because you fell asleep against him, on his couch watching Star Wars.”
Peter’s face heated up. That’s right, he’d told Ned about that, hadn’t he.
“And you text him back and forth. A lot. His head of security picks you up after school four days a week for lab time. If you were a regular intern none of that would happen.”
“Yeah… yeah,” Peter said, “but you know I’m not a regular intern. I’m Spider Man.” At first the internship had been a cover so he could have time to go out as Spider Man since aunt May hadn’t known. That had changed a few days after the incident with the Vulture when May found out about his secret identity. Peter hadn’t been able to hide behind the guise of an internship anymore. To his surprise, Mr. Stark had started inviting him to the tower to work on his suit shortly after that. Working on the suit had turned into working on other projects in the lab, which had turned into just hanging out in the lab. From there they’d started to hang out in the penthouse, watching movies and eating pizza. Peter couldn’t remember the exact moment it had shifted from: ‘fake sorta real internship in the lab,’ to ‘friendship and hanging out’, but it had after just a couple of months. Peter really didn’t want to give that up by telling Mr. Stark the truth and then being rejected and kicked out of the tower and his life for good. “You know the internship isn’t real,” Peter said. “If I wasn’t Spider Man I wouldn’t be there at all.”
Ned gave him an exasperated look. “So you’re just never going to tell him the truth?”
Peter shrugged. He supposed he wasn’t. His dad was Iron Man, and he’d never get to tell anyone aside from Ned. He’d have to keep up this ruse of just being Mr. Stark’s intern, or his junior Avenger in training. Peter simultaneously was relieved at this thought and hated it at the same time. “If you were right,” Peter said, “I’d just tell him.”
“I am right. Remind me what I’m right about again?”
“Him, uh… loving me.”
Ned started tinkering with the robotic arm again. “Well, there’s one surefire way to tell.”
“I’m not asking him,” Peter said, voice flat.
“No, of course not, because that would be so easy.” Ned flashed him a grin. “You could just make him disgusting food. We’d figure it out real quick.”
“Make him- wait, what?”
Giving up on their project for the time being, Ned set it down and stared at his best friend. “You know… you know how when you’re a little kid, and you think you’ll do something good by making your mom and dad breakfast in bed? But you’re like, eight, so you bring them an undercooked egg and like… cereal in a cup with chocolate milk mixed with oatmeal… and it’s gross, and weird, but they still put on a fake smile and say, ‘Oh this is just what I was wanting for breakfast,’ and then they eat it even though they wanna puke?”
“Noooo- did you do that when you were eight?”
“Yes. Totally. I made a huge mess in the kitchen, but they loved me so they ate it and then helped me clean up the mess.”
“And you want me to make a mess in Mr. Stark’s kitchen and feed him undercooked eggs?”
“Dude, you spend time with him. You know what he likes and doesn’t like. Fix him something weird and just see what his reaction is. If he smiles and eats it, he loves you. It’d be such an easy experiment and you’d get results fast.”
Peter pondered on it for long moments. Mr. Stark wasn’t super affectionate like aunt May was. He let Peter fall asleep beside him sometimes on the couch, and sometimes he ruffled Peter’s hair, but he wasn’t big on hugs or cuddling like aunt May was. He gave Peter funny nicknames and seemed to like spending time with him, but he never verbally expressed his feelings towards people, or at least not that Peter had seen. Peter was sure that behind closed doors he told miss Potts that he loved her, but for Peter it had been hard to tell what exactly the man felt about him. If what Ned suggested was true, it would be a good way to find out for certain.
“So, I just make him something weird… gummy bears on top of cereal or something, and if he eats it, that means he loves me?”
“Exactly.”
“And you’re sure about this?”
“Last week my cousin made grandma a hamburger with a fried egg on top.”
“Your cousin’s in culinary school,” Peter said, exasperated. “That’s a legitimate meal.”
“Yeah, but grandma’s 87 and looked at him like he belonged in an insane asylum when he brought it to her. Then she smiled and ate it anyway.”
“And?”
“She waited until he walked into the kitchen to feed the rest to the dog.”
Peter gave a little laugh despite the nervousness he was starting to feel about this crazy plan Ned had come up with. It was such a simple way to tell for sure.
“So are you going to do it?” Ned asked.
“Maybe.”
“You are. You totally are,” Ned said.
Peter’s ears turned red. “This is a bad idea.”
“No it’s not. I’m your guy in the chair. I have the best ideas. Don’t make me list all of the times I’ve saved your butt in the last year.”
Peter closed his mouth. Making random food for Mr. Stark… it was going to be weird. Mr. Stark was kind of particular about what he ate already. Sometimes he went on a health kick and ate only organic, gluten free food. Other times he’d sit next to Peter and eat a cheeseburger while they were trying to figure out a difficult engineering problem for R and D. He already knew Mr. Stark didn’t like pineapple pizza, or sandwiches from Delmar’s smushed down flat like Peter did. Peter didn’t think bringing him those things would prove anything, because he already knew he wouldn’t eat those. This meant whatever Peter gave to him had to be something he might actually eat, or the experiment would be a bust.
* * *
Peter was nervous. Ned had given him a bunch of ideas, and they had eventually settled on a Pop-Tart sandwich, something Ned occasionally ate when his parents weren’t home to tell him he couldn’t. It was just strange enough that Mr. Stark probably wouldn’t want to eat it, but not so gross that he would outright turn it down on sight.
It had become normal for Peter to go up to Tony’s penthouse on his own to grab a bite to eat after school, so that’s what he did on Tuesday. Tony was in the lab waiting for him while Peter got into the cupboard of snacks that was kept stocked just for him. He found a package of strawberry Pop-Tarts, and pulled out a jar of peanut butter. As he spread the peanut butter on one Pop-Tart and then slapped its twin on top, Peter thought he’d like to try it himself, because it was basically an extra sweet peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He only made one though, and then carried it nervously to the elevator on a plate and down one level to Tony’s private lab.
“Hey kid, got a snack?” Tony greeted when FRIDAY unlocked the lab door to let Peter in.
“Uh, yeah Mr. Stark. I actually ate in the kitchen upstairs. I thought you might be hungry and brought this down for you.”
Tony looked up from the Iron Man boot he was working on. “Is it leftover pizza? There was some in the fridge from last night. I saved it for you.”
“No,” Peter said. His hands were practically shaking, his body buzzing with excitement and nerves as he set the Pop-Tart sandwich down on the workbench in front of Tony. Tony just stared down at it.
“Pop-Tarts?” he asked.
“Uh, yeah, yup. Pop-Tarts… and peanut butter.” Peter didn’t want to say too much about it. He didn’t want to try to convince him to eat it, because that would wreck the experiment. According to Ned, if Mr. Stark loved him, he would just pick it up and eat it. He would grin and bear it without prompting from Peter. Peter had done this a number of times with aunt May, because she usually burnt any kind of food she came across, but Ned had assured him that this was a thing adults did with their children. Mr. Stark didn’t know Peter was his child, but Ned had insisted this would give them the information they wanted either way.
“So, this is some sort of…” he trailed away, looking for the right words. “A Pop-Tart sandwich?”
“We um, made it in home-ec today.”
“I didn’t know you were taking home-ec.”
“I’m not.” Peter bit his lip. He really should have thought that one through before he’d spoken. “I skipped lunch and went with MJ since they had a substitute.”
“And they had you guys make peanut butter and Pop-Tarts?”
“Yup.” Peter had his hands behind his back, holding them so Mr. Stark wouldn’t see them shaking. He was rocking back and forth on his feet.
Mr. Stark stared at the plate of food, gave a small grimace, and then picked it up and took a bite, peanut butter squishing out the sides since the Pop-Tarts weren’t that easy to bite through. He chewed and swallowed quickly. When his eyes flickered up to Peter a moment later, he found Peter scrutinizing him.
“Not so bad,” he said. “Thought a private school would have kids learning to cook something a little more involved than this in home-ec." When he looked at Peter and found him still watching him, he took another bite and then grabbed a clean rag and wiped his fingers off on it. “You ready to work Underoos?”
“Yeah Mr. Stark,” Peter said. “We’re working on the new Stark Tablet today right?”
“Right.”
Mr. Stark gave one last look at the half eaten Pop-Tart sandwich, grabbed it and took another bite, and then hurried to start pulling out the tools they’d need. Peter really wasn’t sure if the man actually liked what he’d made, or if it was as Ned had said and he was just eating it to please Peter. He ended up finishing the sandwich a minute later, and Peter frowned at the empty plate whenever he caught sight of it for the rest of the evening. What was he going to tell Ned? His little experiment felt like it had been a bust.
* * *
“Show me the face he made again,” Ned said the next day at lunch.
Peter tried to imitate the grimace Mr. Stark had made before trying the Pop-Tart sandwich.
“And then he ate it all?”
“He said it wasn’t so bad. I dunno, maybe he actually liked it? I mean, it didn’t smell too bad,” Peter said, “and you eat it, so…”
“True,” Ned said. “It’s still a weird food though, and you said he’s particular about what he eats. At least he tried it.”
“But we don’t know if he tried it because it was me who brought it to him, or if it’s because he thought it looked good, or if he was just starving and didn’t care what he ate. Sometimes Miss Potts or Colonel Rhodes has to come drag him out of his lab to eat because he forgets. One time he was so hungry, Colonel Rhodes said he had pizza delivered to the tower, and he was so distracted by his work he had FRIDAY let the delivery guy come all the way up and into his lab.”
“Maybe I should apply to be a delivery driver,” Ned said.
“Normally he has them deliver it to the food box that’s installed just outside the elevator door in the parking garage.”
As they ate their lunch, both of them fell into silent thought for long moments. Just before the bell rang for 6th period, Ned said, “So try again.”
“Huh?”
“Try again with an even weirder thing. See if he eats it. Make it something he really wouldn’t try.”
“Yeah but-”
“But what?”
“Ok, you don’t get how nerve wracking this is.”
“Well, I’d do it for you, but he’s not my dad so…”
“Right.”
“It’s a lab day again today isn’t it? It’s the perfect time to do it.”
“Yeah. You’re right.”
Just before they left the cafeteria Peter stopped at a vending machine full of snacks and sweets and dug in his pocket for a five dollar bill. Ned watched as he hit the button for gummy worms and then groaned. “Dude, you’re doing the cereal thing?”
“I thought this was what you wanted.”
“Yeah, but…” he trailed away and then laughed as the package of gummy worms fell out of the machine and into the tray below. “Man, I wish I could see the look on his face when you bring this to him. You should get a video.”
“Ned, this is hard enough as it is.”
“Ok, but seriously. I’d pay money to see that.”
* * *
Peter was scrutinizing his secret father’s face as he stared down into the bowl of Cocoa Puffs cereal and gummy worms that his intern had just brought him.
“What’s… Pete, those are gummy worms.”
“Yeah.”
“Gummy worms,” Mr. Stark said again, looking up from the bowl and into Peter’s face. “In cereal. You did not make this in home-ec.”
“No, I just know how you forget to eat sometimes, and I figured you might be hungry, so I uh, I wanted to bring you something so you wouldn’t… forget. To eat.”
“Pepper got to you didn’t she?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Peter said, and it was the truth.
“Pepper or Rhodey put you up to this. You know I’m an adult right? I eat when I’m hungry. You don’t have to bring me food kid.”
“Sure, sure,” Peter said as he stared down at the bowl of cereal. This was something Peter would definitely eat. He liked to put gummy worms with just about anything else that was sweet. Ice cream, cereal, other candy, pudding, it didn’t matter. It appeared Peter had found something Mr. Stark would outright refuse however.
He was surprised when Mr. Stark picked up the spoon a moment later and took a bite. Peter looked up at him and found the man’s face scrunched up, like he found it disgusting, but then his eyes turned to Peter and he gave a sad sort of grin. It was really forced. Peter tried not to let his jaw hang open.
“Uh, if you’re not hungry you don’t have to eat it Mr. Stark.”
“No, no, my intern brought me food.” He looked back down into the bowl like he thought this was anything but food. “Never say I’m ungrateful.” He gave Peter another forced smile and then took another bite, gummy worm, milk and chocolate cereal going into his mouth and being swallowed quickly.
Peter watched as he finished the bowl. “You know, Pepper’s intern brings her coffee kid.”
“Miss Potts said you drink too much coffee.”
Mr. Stark pointed at him. “Caught you. I knew Pepper put you up to this.”
“She didn’t.”
“FRIDAY?” Tony called out to his AI, looking up at the ceiling.
“There is no such recorded conversation between Peter and Miss Potts.”
“What about with Rhodey?”
“No sir,” the AI said.
“Hm.” He gave Peter a scrutinizing look for a moment, and then said, “Got your web shooters with you? I have an idea for an upgrade.”
Peter moved to get his web shooters out of his bag. Mr. Stark had clearly not enjoyed the gummy worm cereal, and he’d eaten it anyway. He’d smiled through it even just like Ned had said. It could be a one-off though, couldn’t it? Peter was going to have to up his game.
* * *
“Popcorn and marshmallows,” Ned said.
“That’s not weird, that’s just good.”
“A butter and sugar sandwich.”
“I already gave him a sugary sandwich. Wait, what the heck is a butter and sugar sandwich?”
“Yeah, I’m gonna have to make you one when you come over. What about dipping french fries in a chocolate milkshake?”
“I’d have to convince him to dip them in there. It’d be different if I just stuck the fries into the shake, but he can’t exactly drink that through a straw can he?”
“Yeah, that one’s iffy anyway. We’ll think of something.”
* * *
Tony eyed Peter warily as he entered the lab with a bowl of something that he could only hope was edible. He’d asked Pepper and Rhodey if they’d put the kid up to bringing him food despite that FRIDAY had denied having recorded such a conversation, but they’d both told him no. Tony had described the strange and frankly disgusting food to Rhodey, who had only laughed and then told him that whatever Peter brought Tony would have to eat. He had to just grin and bear it or he would hurt the kid’s feelings, which was the last thing he wanted to do.
“What do you have there?” Tony asked as Peter approached. Cheese and crackers. A bowl full of grapes. A sliced apple. Just make it something normal for the love of-
“Sliced mango and Tajin.”
“Mango and what?”
“Tajin. It’s a seasoning that has like, chili pepper and lime. I think it has salt in it too.”
“And what’s it doing on top of that mango?”
“I made you a snack.”
“I ate lunch.”
Peter just shrugged in response, and Rhodey’s warning to just eat whatever he was brought came back to the front of his mind. He motioned with his fingers and said, “Hand it over.”
Peter slid the bowl of fruit dusted with red seasoning to him and Tony reached in and took a piece of the slimy mango. Considering the other things he’d eaten that week, he wasn’t expecting this to be pleasant. Down the hatch he supposed. It was slimy enough that maybe he could just swallow it whole. As soon as he started chewing however, his taste buds were pleasantly surprised.
“Hey, what did you say you put on this again?”
“Tajin,” Peter said, watching him closely.
“This is good.” He took another bite and said, “You did good kid.”
“Really?”
“Why do you sound surprised?”
“Oh, no, I’m not. Totally not surprised. Just, uh- glad you like it. Yeah, really glad.”
Tony smirked. The kid was often nervous at random times. Sometimes he was a ball of energy that couldn’t settle, rambling out interesting ideas and new ways to look at science and engineering problems, and other times he acted funny, like he was now. Tony liked what had been brought to him, but there was a faint frown across his kid’s face.
“Make this again sometime,” Tony said. If Peter kept bringing him this, he could live with it. It was better than the other strange things he’d come up with.
“Sorry Mr. Stark, all out of Tajin.”
“I’ll get some.”
“Oh, uh… great.”
* * *
Three lab days, three different odd food combinations. It was Friday now, Peter’s fourth and final lab day of the week (that was if he didn’t stay the night, which he often did on Friday’s). Tony had FRIDAY notify him when Peter entered the building and then again when he made it into the penthouse. Then Tony snuck up to the penthouse and peered around the corner into the kitchen to see what he was making so he could brace himself for it.
The kid had a box of pizza open on the counter. Pizza, thank God. He watched as Peter lifted a piece of pepperoni pizza out of the box, and then pulled his head back around the corner and moved into the elevator to go back to the lab. Peter must have asked Happy to stop off for pizza on their way to the tower. Finally, something normal. At least the kid had bought pepperoni instead of pineapple.
Tony relaxed as he entered the lab and waited with a smile for the kid to come down. He had a special project for them to work on until dinner, and then as was usual on Friday nights with Peter, he had planned on them watching a movie in the penthouse.
Peter appeared a few minutes later, not with a plate of pizza, but with a tall plastic cup and straw. Maybe he had just wanted a snack himself and had eaten in the penthouse and then come down with a soda.
“Hey Mr. Stark,” Peter greeted him with a smile that was… off. Tony smiled back at him until he noticed the determined glint in Peter’s eyes. That look couldn’t mean anything good, and Tony knew he was right as soon as Peter set the cup down in front of him.
“Hey,” Tony said, looking down into the cup. It was thick and brown and had chunks of something red. It smelled like pizza. Tony suppressed the urge to gag. “You’ve uh, got an interesting looking smoothie for yourself there kid.”
“Oh, it’s not for me Mr. Stark.”
Of course it’s not.
“Kid, tell me that’s not a blended up slice of pizza.”
“It’s a pizza shake.”
“What did you just say to me?” He was having a hard time not feeling a little hysterical with the teenager standing in front of him.
“It doesn’t have ice cream in it. Just a slice of pizza. I blended it.”
“Why?” Tony pleaded.
“Well, we usually work on something special on Fridays, right? Something that takes all of our attention and requires us to work with chipsets and boards, so our fingers have to stay clean. Like, last week we had to move into the clean room to work and wear the cleanroom suits. So I blended it up so you can drink it through a straw. No mess,” he held up his fingers to show his own hands were clean, “see?”
“That’s… inventive,” Tony said. “You know, I’m not really sure I’m all that hungry…” he trailed away as soon as he looked at Peter’s face. The kid was biting his lip and looking somewhere between nervous and curious. Instead of finishing his sentence, Tony took a sip of the disgusting ‘shake’, fought his gag reflex, and then gave a pained smile up at his kid.
“Let’s get to work. Clean room,” he said. He pointed at the blended up pizza. “That has to stay. Don’t want to spill it in the clean room. Chop chop.” Peter didn’t need to know that he hadn’t been planning on working in the clean room that day. Tony had taken a sip. He’d satisfied his obligation to grin and bear it like Rhodey had said. Now he needed to get as far away from the pizza that looked like barf as he could. If he had to take another sip to appease Peter, his soul was going to leave his body.
* * *
The blended pizza wasn’t the only thing Peter had in store for him that night. As soon as they got up to the penthouse, Peter informed him that he had brought ingredients to make dinner.
“We can just order in. Then we can get started on the movie,” Tony half pleaded with him. This kid was going to be the death of him, he was sure.
“It’s ok Mr. Stark, I’m making spaghetti.”
“Oh, well, that doesn’t sound too bad.” It was going to be bad. Tony knew better than to hope after the week he’d had. He watched as Peter boiled spaghetti pasta, and then closed his eyes tight and clamped his mouth shut, praying he could stay quiet when Peter opened up a can of fucking chili and heated it up to dump over the top of the pasta.
“Kid- I thought you said we were having spaghetti.”
“The corner store was out of spaghetti sauce, so we’re having chili-ghetti.”
“I’m pretty sure that counts as a lie. I feel lied to. I was promised spaghetti.”
“Well, I mean, it’s got meat in it, and it’s in a sauce, and there’s tomatoes in the chili.”
“It’s beans on pasta.”
“Right, chili-ghetti.”
“I’m uh… pretty full from that,” he shuddered, “pizza shake earlier.”
“You only had a sip.”
Tony stared at Peter for long moments and then said, “Look kid, I love you, but I’m gonna have to put my foot down. No chili-ghetti. We’ll order something in.”
“What?”
“Yep, executive decision, Peter is no longer allowed to make food in this house. My house, my rules.”
“What- did you-” Peter was staring at him with a shocked look on his face. What had he said that had caused that look?
“Sorry, but I need a diet of normal, average, bland food.”
“Yeah, I get that, but…” Peter looked down at the counter, half cooked chili-ghetti forgotten.
“What?” Tony asked. Now he was afraid that he’d done exactly what Rhodey had warned him not to do. He’d hurt his feelings.
“You said… uh…” Peter’s face heated up. “You said… you love me.”
Tony nodded. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s what I said.”
Peter looked up at him with that curious look on his face again. Then he gave a nod and said, “So… what are we ordering?”
“Burgers and fries. Plain cheeseburgers, nothing fancy. Not blended, not with gummy worms. That ok?”
“Yeah.”
Tony sent the order and then turned on the movie and they moved to sit next to each other on the couch in the living room, chili-ghetti forgotten on the counter. Peter fidgeted next to him and Tony worried he had scared the kid or weirded him out by telling him he loved him. It wasn’t something Tony said often. He said it to Pepper, and once he’d said it to Rhodey, right after Rhodey had woken up in the hospital and had been told he’d never walk on his own again without braces. It had just slipped out during his attempt to soften the blow to Peter that he wasn’t going to eat anything else the kid made.
“You ok over there Underoos?” Tony asked a few minutes into the movie.
“Yeah. Good. I’m good. Really good.”
He was rambling, something he only did if he was excited, nervous or upset. He didn’t seem excited.
“You’re awful quiet over there.”
“I’m your son,” Peter blurted out. Tony turned to look at him and raised his brows.
“I know.”
“Uh…” Peter trailed off and began fidgeting with his hands again. “Not like… not like I’m just here a lot… I mean, like, your, uh, I’m your- biological son.” He stumbled through it, and Tony raised his brows even higher, surprised.
“I know,” he said again. Peter’s head snapped up to look at him.
“You know? That I’m your- that we’re-”
“Yeah kid. You’re mine.”
“But how- uh, when…”
“A couple months ago,” Tony said, pausing the movie and turning to face Peter, putting his arm on the back of the couch. “Rhodey kept ribbing me, asking me if I was sure you weren’t my kid. He kept saying how much we looked alike, and how smart you were, and how much trouble you get into on a daily basis as Spider Man.”
“I don’t-”
“Pete, you flooded a subway last week.”
“Right, yeah.” Peter closed his mouth again.
“So I started really thinking about it. I ran a DNA test and it came up positive.”
“But you didn’t tell me.”
Tony swallowed. He hadn’t told Peter. Rhodey and Pepper had told him to tell the kid right away, but Tony had been afraid to scare him off. He’d been trying to work up the nerve to tell him for the last two months… to find a way to soften the blow, because being Tony’s son was not going to be easy. It wouldn’t be easy because being Howard’s son had been anything but easy.
“How did you find out?” Tony asked instead of answering Peter’s question. “You didn’t tell me.”
“I uhm,” Peter was looking down. He sounded sad. Damn it. “I cut my finger in the lab a month ago. I was cleaning up the mess and FRIDAY scanned my blood or something and compared it to yours and brought up a DNA test on the holo in the lab.” Tony would bet anything that FRIDAY hadn’t run another test, but had just brought up the one Tony had run previously. He was going to have to look into it and ask FRIDAY why she’d shown it to Peter without prompting.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Peter mumbled something, but Tony couldn’t understand it. “Can you repeat that?”
“I was scared. I didn’t think you’d want me. I was scared to lose the internship, and uh… this.” He motioned between the two of them. “I had to make sure you already… you know… loved me first.”
Tony looked up at the ceiling for a moment, thinking about the interaction they’d had twenty minutes earlier. Tony had told Peter he loved him, Peter had been surprised, and then after a few minutes he’d just blurted out that he was Tony’s son.
“I’ve loved you for a long time Underoos,” Tony said, voice soft. It caused Peter to look up at him again. “Since before I found out about you. I’m not good at the emotional stuff… like I’ve told you before. I should have told you before now.” Peter was staring at him, hanging on his words. “I didn’t tell you right away that you were my son once I found out, because I didn’t want to lose this either. I thought I’d scare you off.”
“No Mr. Stark, erm… I mean, no, you wouldn’t. Ned kept telling me to tell you, but I couldn’t until I knew for sure, so we had to do the food thing.”
“What food thing?”
“The food thing… the food thing little kids do, where they make something gross and then their parents just smile and eat it because they love them. Ned said that’s how it works.”
Tony just stared at him. “You wanna run that one by me again? Are you telling me all the disgusting things you’ve been bringing me all week was some sort of experiment you came up with to gauge my reaction?”
“I’m sorry. So so sorry Mr. St- just, really sorry.”
Tony let his head roll back. “Thank God.”
“What?”
“Kid,” Tony looked at him and then gave a little laugh. “When you brought me that blended up pizza, I thought my soul was going to leave my body. I didn’t know what the hell you were up to.”
“But you ate the stuff I brought you anyway,” Peter said.
“Yeah, because I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”
“What did you think I was doing?”
“I thought you’d lost your mind,” Tony said, “because who comes up with those crazy combinations anyway?”
“Ned. Except the pizza and chili-ghetti. Those were mine.”
“You and Ned were in on this together? You were scheming to slowly poison me to death with weird food?”
“Not, not poison,” Peter hedged.
Tony laughed again and brought his hand up to his chest over his heart. “I thought I was going to have to eat crazy concoctions for the rest of my life kid.” He looked at him. “I would if that’s what you really wanted, don’t get me wrong, but I’m glad I don’t have to. I don’t have to, right? You’ll be happy with burgers and fries when it gets here?”
Peter nodded. “You’re uh… you’re a good dad Mr. Stark.”
Tony begged to differ, but the kid was giving him that look again that he sometimes did, like he’d hung the moon and the stars, and who was he to correct him if that’s what he thought?
“Come here,” Tony said, holding out one arm. He was afraid his son would feel too weird about a hug… that he’d turn him down, or pull away, but he didn’t. He looked surprised but pleased as he leaned into him and wrapped his arms around him, returning the gesture. “Is this ok?” Tony asked.
Peter nodded into his chest. “Yeah, this is good.” They sat there like that for long moments until FRIDAY notified them that their food had been delivered. They went down to the parking garage to retrieve it from the food box together, and on the way back up to the penthouse in the elevator, Peter said hesitantly, “I don’t know how to tell aunt May.”
“I already told her.”
“You did? When?” He hadn’t seen Mr. Stark make any calls in the last half hour or text anyone.
“A few days after I found out.”
“But she hasn’t said anything to me about it.”
“I asked her to let me tell you.”
They grew quiet as Peter mulled this information over as they rose past level 42. “Is that why she started letting me stay the night sometimes?”
“I think so.”
“So… she’s ok with it?”
“She’s ok with it,” Tony assured him.
As they passed floor 87 Peter looked up at him and said, “I don’t know what this is supposed to look like.”
As the elevator door opened up to the penthouse on floor 93 a moment later, Tony held up the brown paper sack of food and said, “Right now, it looks like this Underoos. Burgers and fries and a movie.” They stepped out and Tony looked over his son closely. “I know you have a life apart from me already Peter. You have a home with your aunt, friends, school… I don’t want to take any of that away from you. I just want you to be happy. That’s all that matters to me.”
“So we just- keep doing lab days and movie nights?”
“If that’s what you want,” Tony said, leading him back to the kitchen so they could grab plates and start eating. “If you want to live with your aunt full time, or here full time, or some combination of those two, then that’s what I want. Aunt hottie wants you to be happy too. She said she was good with whatever we come up with.”
“That’s surprising,” Peter said.
“Is it?”
“Well, I mean… you know May. She’s always been super protective.”
Tony nodded. “Look. I’m not trying to scare you or sway you towards any specific choice, but I’m your dad. May hasn’t adopted you yet. You were just placed into her custody when she agreed to take you. If it was what you wanted, or if I felt like forcing the issue, my lawyers could get me full custody in under a week. I haven’t because-”
“Because why?” Peter asked. He paused, halfway through unwrapping his burger, looking up at Tony’s face… searching his features.
“Like I said… you have a life already. I didn’t think you’d want this life. Being a Stark isn’t exactly easy.”
Peter’s eyes roved around the massive fully kitted out modern kitchen.
“I don’t mean financially,” Tony said. “I don’t know that I can explain it to you.” He really didn’t want to in any case. He didn’t want to list out all of his flaws if Peter hadn’t already figured them out. He didn’t want to list the 101 reasons why Tony would make a bad father, and the 102 reasons why Howard had been a bad one. “All right, listen.” Tony set his own burger down and put both hands flat on the counter top. “I’ve been trying really hard to be the best mentor I could be, and then when I found out about this, the best father I could be. I’m going to make mistakes though. Big ones. Stupid ones. Just ask Pepper and Rhodey. They’ll tell you all about the laundry list of things I’ve done to make life hard. I want you here with me as often as possible, but I won’t force it on you, and I won’t drag you away kicking and screaming from May.”
Realization dawned on Peter then. He’d been scared to tell his father about the DNA test because he was afraid of being a disappointment to him… of being rejected. His father hadn’t told him because he was afraid of being a bad father. He was afraid of rejection and disappointment too. Peter thought back over all of their interactions though. Things hadn’t always been smooth sailing between them.
After Germany, Mr. Stark had practically ghosted him. So had Happy. Then Mr. Stark had taken away his suit after the ferry incident. That had been rough for Peter and had pissed him off, but they’d gotten past it and it hadn’t taken long at all for them to grow close after they’d started spending time together.
Mr. Stark sometimes patched him up after a rough night out as Spider Man. He helped with his homework if Peter was struggling with a math or science problem he couldn’t figure out. He kept a snack drawer stocked for him in the kitchen with his favorite snacks. He loaned him his hoodies when Peter was cold and had forgotten or lost his somewhere. He put a smile on his face and ate Pop-Tart sandwiches and blended pizza. There were so many good things, that the minor arguments and other issues they’d had seemed to be overshadowed by them.
Nobody was perfect.
Peter grinned to himself. “You know, I never got to call uncle Ben dad.”
“What?”
Peter looked up at him, still smiling softly. “Uncle Ben didn’t want me to call him that, even though I couldn’t remember my mom and- and step dad after I’d been with May and Ben for a year. Ben was great, but he said he didn’t want to replace my dad.”
The kid was giving Tony that look again like he was holding the moon up in the air.
“You want to call me dad?”
Peter nodded.
“I’d like that.”
“It’s ok? Miss Potts won’t mind? Or- do we have to keep it a secret?”
“You’re my son, not a secret,” Tony said. “Nobody’s going to mind.”
“Good, ‘cause I’m gonna tell Ned that my dad did not like the chili-ghetti.”
Tony pointed at him. “You’re going to invite Ned to dinner next week, and I’m going to take the two of you out to a French restaurant and order us all escargot. And you’re both going to eat it.”
“Snails?”
“You made me drink blended pizza that looked and smelled like vomit.”
“That’s fair.” Peter grinned as he took a bite of his burger. Ned had been right. Peter’s guy in the chair always came up with the best plans, even if his dad begged to differ.