Chapter Text
Tony was all too aware he had been an idiot. Anyone could have guessed the day might end something like this. He was craving some quiet time—it was no wonder Peter had reached his breaking point.
“Mo?” Elena walked up to them with a puzzled frown. “Mom?”
“It’s alright, El. Morgan’s—” Silvia’s eyes flitted to Tony. “Peter wasn’t feeling well, that’s all.”
“Oh.” She eyed her mother and Tony dubiously, before turning to Morgan, who looked both confused and pensive, eyebrows quirked and bottom lip pushed out.
“Morgan, it’s almost time for Selena to leave. Why don’t you two go play outside for a few minutes?” Tony said, finding his footing again.
Morgan looked up at him in surprise—it was rare he use her proper name. His serious tone must have registered too, because she didn’t make a fuss or ask any more questions. Taking Elena’s hand, she gave a tug to get her friend moving. At the end of the hall she stopped, however. “Peter’s OK, right?” she asked timidly.
Tony managed a small smile. “He will be. Don’t worry about it, baby.”
Once Morgan and Elena were out of sight and ear shot, he turned to face Silvia, crossing his arms over his chest, feeling defensive. Tony knew he had not handled the situation well. “It’s not normally like this.”
“That’s good,” Silvia replied with a faint smile. There was no accusation or judgement in her voice as she continued: “There’s some great resources to explain autism to younger children, if you… need it.”
“I don’t know if she’ll remember to ask…” he said dumbly—that was not what he was expecting.
“It might be good to talk to her about it even if she doesn’t.” Silvia nudged her glasses up her nose, mouth twisted to one side. “It’s going to come up eventually. Kids pick up on things, you know, whether they have a name for it or not, and they don’t always come to the right… conclusions. You might not want to miss the chance to explain things yourself. Just a word of advice.”
Tony scrubbed a hand down his face. He thought about Morgan complaining to him that Peter didn’t know how to play house with her, or the time Pepper told her to stop playing with the zipper on her coat before she broke it, and she cried, and claimed it wasn’t fair because Peter was always doing it and didn’t get in trouble. “I need to go check on Peter…” That was true enough. “But… thank you. Maybe you could give me some pointers?”
“Pepper’s got my number. It was nice meeting you, Tony.”
“You too.”
Tony stopped to grab a snack for Peter in the kitchen, before heading upstairs. He had to knock on the bedroom door with his foot. “Pete?”
Picking up on a quiet whine from inside, he didn’t wait for a verbal invitation to open the door.
He had to step over a notebook on the floor, and make room on the bedside table to set down the mug. As he sat on the edge of the bed, Tony noticed Peter’s phone almost slipping to the floor, and placed it on the bedside table too. “Kiddo, can you come out from under there so I can make sure you’re alright, please?”
After a long minute, Peter surfaced, and with some encouragement pulled the Spider-man mask off to reveal wet, reddened eyes and a pink nose.
“There’s my Spider-baby.” In what had become a practiced movement, Tony smoothed his hair back and rested a hand on his forehead, feeling for any unusual warmth.
“I’m not sick,” Peter whispered like a confession.
Tony nodded. “But you’re not feeling well.”
Peter only curled in on himself, avoiding Tony’s eyes.
“What did you eat for lunch?”
“Um. A hot dog.”
“Just the one?” Morgan had wolfed down two hot dogs even after grazing on snacks through the morning—and she was seven and without an accelerated metabolism.
“Stomach hurt,” Peter mumbled, shrugging.
“Why don’t you try to eat something now?” Tony scratched lightly at his scalp in a soothing gesture. “Hypoglycemia is probably not helping… anything.”
After a minute, Peter agreed with a small nod. Plush antennae peeked out under the covers as he sat up to recline on the pillows.
“Take it easy—drink slow.”
Peter’s lips curved into a wan smile as he traced the ceramic ears on his favorite mug, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the small chip in one. He remained withdrawn, however, as he sipped at the strawberry milk and got through half a granola bar before finally raising his eyes to Tony’s, expression painful in its earnestness. “Mr Stark, I—”
Tony cut off the apology he knew was coming. “I think we’ll skip the balloons next year, hm?” he commented instead.
Peter ducked his head. “It… it wasn’t just the balloons,” he admitted.
“No, I didn’t think it was.” Tony sighed, urging him to finish the granola bar with a touch to his hand.
“I shouldn’t have come to the party,” Peter blurted out after two bites, crumpling up the wrapper. “I only upset Morgan, and embarrassed you and Miss Potts, and—”
“What? Peter, that’s not true—”
“It is.” Peter looked at him with wide, tearful eyes. “I’m sorry, Mr Stark. You’ve been so good to me, and I… I should have w-warned you—I t-try to… to be… normal, but I can’t get it right. I always m-mess up.” Tony rescued the mug when Peter pulled at the duvet in an attempt to cover his face as he started crying.
“Spider-baby. Peter…” he said helplessly, “You don’t need a warning because you’re—”
“Autistic,” Peter choked out, almost inaudible.
“Autistic,” Tony echoed, and then repeated again, louder, because he never wanted Peter to feel like he had to be ashamed of himself. “You’re autistic.” It wasn’t a question, or even an assumption anymore.
Sniffling, Peter lowered the duvet to reveal his tear streaked face. With a white knuckled grip on the covers, he opened his mouth as though to speak, but didn’t. ‘I’m sorry’ was all he said in the end, voice shaking.
“Kid, what are you apologising for?”
He made a sound somewhere between a faint laugh and a sob. “… Me?”
“Oh, Pete. Come here.” Tony moved around to sit against the headboard, and pulled Peter into his arms. “I’ve really made a mess of things, haven’t I?” he muttered under his breath.
An arm around his middle and his head on his chest, Peter made a questioning sound in his throat.
Tony considered his words for a minute, wanting—needing—to get this right. “We maybe... probably—definitely should have talked about… all of this, before.”
Peter’s fingers twisted in the material of his shirt. “I thought maybe you knew, but I wasn’t… sure.”
“I had my suspicions that you were on the spectrum.” He felt Peter stiffen minutely at the phrase. At the start he had thought the kid was just nervous, a bit awkward perhaps, but it soon became apparent there was something more to it. “I did some research, because I wanted to do whatever I could to make things easier for you. But I did a pretty shit job—”
Peter shook his head emphatically, and held onto him tighter. “I noticed, Mr Stark,” he said in a small voice. “That’s why I thought you knew. But I thought you… didn’t want to talk about it. Ben didn’t.”
It was some relief to know he had done something right, accounting for Peter’s differences and difficulties. The comment about Uncle Ben gave him pause, however. “He didn’t?” Tony asked curiously.
One shoulder rose and fell in a tiny shrug. “He said it didn’t matter, because it didn’t change anything.”
“Well… it doesn’t change how I feel about you…” he replied carefully. “You’re still Peter.”
“That’s what Ben said.”
Something in Peter’s tone and the renewed fidgeting with his shirt made him ask: “And what do you think?”
“I am still Peter, but… it does matter, sometimes…” Peter said quietly. “Like today.”
Tony ran a soothing hand up and down Peter’s back. “Yeah. I dropped the ball today,” he agreed with a sigh.
“No, no. What?”
“I left you alone, Underoos.”
Peter pulled back from their embrace. “I’m sixteen, Mr Stark,” he said brusquely, his face red.
“I didn’t mean it like that… my favorite young adult,” Tony teased, and was gratified when Peter’s scowl relaxed into an annoyed pout. His own smile faded, though, as he summoned every ounce of emotional maturity he had developed over the years to explain: “I don’t want you to feel like you’re on your own, Pete. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t talk to me, or come to me… ever again.”
He pressed on over Peter’s vague protesting noise—he knew he had screwed the pooch with the whole Homecoming fiasco. “Not as Spider-man, and not as Peter. You’re… you’re my kid.” The emotion getting the best of him, Tony sniffed and cleared his throat.
“Tony,” Peter whimpered, reaching for him again.
Tony pressed a kiss to the top of his head before tucking him under his chin, and tightening his arms around him. “I did all this research, but it didn’t occur to me that probably the first thing I should have done is talk to you. If you ask Pepper, she’ll tell you that’s just like me,” he added wryly.
Peter breathed out a weak laugh against his chest.
“But we will talk about it from now on, OK?” Tony nosed at his curls, smelling shampoo and the distinct, synthetic scent of the Spider-man suit. He was determined to make things right.
“Will Morgan be mad if I skip her birthday party next year?” he asked after a couple of minutes, voice still thick.
That surprised a chuckle out of Tony. “Jesus, I might just skip it too,” he said, a hand coming up to play with Peter’s hair. “Little monsters, the lot of them. Their parents too.” He toed off his shoes with a theatrical groan, and settled into a more comfortable position. “I’m joking. Mostly.”
With his arms around him and a hand on his back, he felt Peter’s faint laugh rather than heard it. “I don’t know about the others, but… you’re… you’re a really great dad, Mr Stark,” he said, hesitant and shy and so clearly heartfelt it made emotion clog up Tony’s throat again.
“I don’t know about that, Spider-baby.” He dropped another kiss on the top of Peter’s head. “But I know I’ve got the two best kids in the world.” Tony didn’t know how he ever got so lucky, to have everything he did.
Peter sniffled, arms tightening around him. “That’s such a dad thing to say.” He could hear the smile in Peter’s voice, even if he couldn’t see it, with his face squashed against his middle.
“That means I’m doing it right, right?” Though he was joking, it was something he worried about constantly, doing right by his kids.
Even though he giggled in response, Peter still sounded a little weepy, and tired, and it didn’t come as a surprise when his body soon grew heavy with sleep. Tony didn’t stop stroking his hair, however, knowing the touch was soothing and relaxing for Peter.
Communicating through the Stark watch on his wrist, F.R.I.D.A.Y informed him Pepper had taken Morgan out for a drive—which explained the unusual silence in the house. He didn’t know how much Morgan or Silvia might have told Pepper about what had happened with Peter, but her thoughtfulness and take charge attitude never ceased to amaze him.
Between asleep and awake, he thought about the kid in his arms, and the little girl who had just turned seven, and the beautiful, wonderful woman he got to call his wife. It seemed unreal this was his life.
About half an hour later, hearing Pepper’s car, Tony carefully disentangled himself from Peter, thankful when he didn’t wake up.
Before he left he made sure the BB-8 plush was back in his arms, and pulled the duvet up high like Peter liked it.
—
“Daddy!” Morgan greeted him in a loud whisper as he cracked open the door to the mudroom and peered inside. Disregarding the red rubber boot still on one foot she ran over to Tony for a hug. “We went to the duck pond!” she informed him in excited, but still hushed tones.
Tony brushed her hair back from her face, smiling at she wrinkled her nose in response. “Did you take the pond ducks some birthday cake?”
Morgan rolled her eyes and wiggled out of his embrace to finish taking off her boot. “Mommy said ducks can’t eat cake.”
“Sounds tragic.” Tony rose to his feet and gave Pepper a kiss on the corner of her mouth, where it was dimpled in contained amusement.
“They got their fill of grain—they’re good.”
“We saw a frog too!” Morgan exclaimed as she peeled off her damp socks—then clapped a hand over her mouth. “And beetles and snails!” she added, pitching her voice lower.
Brow furrowed in confusion, Tony looked to Pepper for an answer as the three of them moved on into the house. “I told her we had to be extra quiet in case Peter was resting. And we had plenty of loud time all day at the party, didn’t we?”
“I guess.”
Tony found Pepper’s hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles, over the wedding band. He hoped it said enough in that moment about his admiration, his gratitude to her.
Pepper pulled him into a quick kiss. “Don’t give me too much credit,” she whispered. “I had to promise her cake at dinner too.”
“She was going to get that anyway,” Tony said, eyebrows raised.
“Yes, but she doesn’t know that.”
They shared a quiet laugh, and a meaningful look as they both went serious when Morgan eyed them suspiciously.
—
A short while after, F.R.I.D.A.Y informed him Peter had woken up, but he didn’t come down until almost dinner time, while Tony was relaxing with some engineering schematics in the front porch with Morgan next to him playing with some new dinosaur figures and a zombie doll. The cooking noises coming from the kitchen that reached him through the open window were combined with the murmur of conversation.
Tony hadn’t quite realised the tension that had settled on his shoulders until it eased somewhat when Pepper called him and Morgan in for dinner and he saw Peter, looking a bit wan, but cheerful enough. He smiled when Tony ruffled his hair in greeting, and devoured three grilled cheese sandwiches and a big bowl of tomato soup without needing any encouragement—which seemed like a good sign.
“Best. Day. Ever!” Morgan declared when Tony brought the last of the cake out of the fridge for dessert.
Peter laughed when Morgan dug straight into the leftover piece the moment he handed her a spoon.
“Hey, Madame, the cake is for you and Peter,” Tony reminded her gently before she could make a bigger dent.
“Oh, no, that’s alright!” Shooting him a vaguely alarmed look, Peter shook his head, and nudged the plate toward Morgan. “You eat it, Mo. It’s your birthday, and your birthday cake.”
“It would still be very nice of her to share, hm?” Pepper said in a suggestive tone, tucking a bit of hair behind Morgan’s ear.
Licking traces of frosting off the spoon, Morgan shook her off, a small line between her eyebrows.
“Honestly, it’s fine, Miss Potts.” Peter sent Tony a pleading look, rubbing his palms and pulling at his fingers. “Mr Stark, seriously. I don’t even know if I’ll like it. And there were some cupcakes with sprinkles left over, right? I can just have one of those. I’m sure they’re good.”
Tony noticed how Morgan tracked Peter’s nervous fidgeting, a thoughtful purse to her mouth. She didn’t comment, though, to his relief. He needed to prepare for that conversation. “You didn’t have any cake at the party?” she asked Peter instead.
“Um, no. I wasn’t very hungry then,” he replied. “But it’s OK, Mo—”
Morgan shook her head, and dug out a generous spoonful which she held out to Peter. “Here.” She didn’t admit a negative for an answer, waving the spoon at him impatiently. “You have to try it. It’s my birthday, you have to do what I want.”
That drew a small laugh out of Peter. “OK,” he said, taking the spoon. “Thank you, Maguna.”
Pepper caught Tony’s eye then: she gave a minute tilt of her head toward, a faint, soft smile playing about her lips.
Tony knocked their ankles together under the table in response, not bothering to hold back his own smile.
“Well?” Morgan demanded.
“It’s good,” Peter answered, cheeks still bulging with cake.
She sniffed, nose upturned. “It’s the best.”
“Uh—”
“The only acceptable answer to best cake ever is… ” Tony interjected, teasing. “Double coffee chocolate with chocolate fudge frosting. And since neither of you have tried it, you’ll have to take my word for it. I win. Discussion over.”
Both of them stared at him, mouths agape. The mix of shock and indignation and amusement on their faces made him laugh, and warmth bloomed in his chest as Morgan started to argue and Peter tried to reason amid giggles.
“Pep?” Tony turned to her, grinning.
She made a face, even as her eyes shone with mirth. “You’re way off—The best cake ever is coconut with lemon cream.”
—
Predictably Morgan didn’t make it through the movie they put on after dinner, running out of energy at last after a long and exciting day. It came as no surprise either when Peter headed up to bed soon after, though it was far from his usual Saturday night bedtime. Tony was feeling pretty knackered himself. Pepper, on the other hand, as usual, seemed as composed and able to hold up against anything as ever.
Peter was already settled in bed when Tony headed upstairs to check on him and say goodnight.
“Everything OK, Spider-baby?” he asked.
“Yeah. Just texting May goodnight,” Peter replied. Finishing up, he set his phone down on the bedside table and shifted to rest on his side, propped on one elbow.
Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, Tony combed his hair back from his forehead, running his fingers through his curls. “Feeling better?”
“Yeah, thanks. Just a bit tired.”
“I bet,” Tony said with a quiet chuckle. “It’s been a long day. You know how rare it is for Morgan to fall asleep through a movie—she will literally hold her eyelids open like some Clockwork Orange shi—shenanigans.”
Peter laughed. “Miss Potts says she gets it from you.”
“She’s probably right,” Tony sighed, eliciting a giggle from Peter. Overflowing with fondness, he thumbed at his left eyebrow, where the hairs grew out wild. He was so glad Peter was in his life. It was hard to find the words, even though it had got easier to communicate with the years. “Morning lab session sound good?”
Peter’s eyes widened in excitement. “That would be awesome. I was thinking we could try…”
All it took was fifteen minutes discussing chemical engineering for Peter to lose any lingering tension. Smiling, he played with Tony’s watch on his wrist, even holding onto his fingers as he made a point.
Tony remembered the first time Morgan had grabbed his finger in her own tiny hand, and the first time she took his hand and held it. Although he hadn’t got to know Peter as an infant or a young child, it brought the same feelings now, the same impossible warmth in his chest.
“We’ll trial it tomorrow,” Tony promised easily. “But first, sleep. Pepper has the coffee rationed, you know.”
With a giggle, Peter lay back against the pillows— Tony noticed the BB-8 plush hidden under one of them. “You mean your breakfast smoothies aren’t enough?”
“Not in any way, shape, or form,” Tony deadpanned, tousling his hair. “So we better go to sleep. Love you, kid.”
He faltered for a second—the words had slipped out. It wasn’t the first time he had said those words to Peter, but it had been a moment every time before, a conscious decision to work through all his personal issues to communicate.
Peter broke into a shy, delighted smile. “I love you too,” he said, round eyed and so painfully earnest it made Tony’s chest hurt.
Tony reached out to rest a hand on his head for a second before switching off the bedside lamp. “Night night, Spider-baby.” he whispered, teasing.
Peter’s smile didn’t falter even as he rolled his eyes.
As he was about to close the door behind him, however, Peter called out: “Tony?”
“Yeah?”
Duvet under his chin, Peter blinked at him in the gloom. “Are you… are you going to tell Morgan?”
Tony went over to him and sat down again without hesitation. “We won’t tell her anything you don’t feel comfortable with, Underoos. But I think it might be a good idea to… have a little talk with her.”
“What if—”
“What if…?” Tony prompted when Peter fell silent, eyes downcast.
“It’s just… kind of scary.” Snuffling, he rubbed at one eye in a would-be nonchalant gesture. “Her friend, Elena… asked what was wrong with me. Not… not what was wrong, just what was wrong with me.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you.”
Peter raised suspiciously bright eyes to Tony.“What if Morgan thinks there is? What if she—” He broke off with a stuttering inhalation.
“Pete. I can’t promise Morgan won’t… do any of the things you’re scared she’ll do, because she’s seven, and kids are weird and stupid and unpredictable. But if she does, we’ll work on it, OK? Pepper and I.”
“I don’t want to be more work,” he mumbled dejectedly, squeezing his eyes shut in an obvious attempt to contain tears.
“Kiddo, that’s what you sign up for when you have a kid—or two—” Peter’s eyes snapped open, wide and glistening. “A whole lot of work,” Tony continued, grinning as he poked him in the side over the covers. “Never ending work.”
A wavering smile spread across his face. “What were you thinking?”
“I have no idea.” Tony combed a hand through Peter’s curls, then bent down to kiss his forehead. “But it’s the best thing I’ve ever done in my life,” he said honestly, cradling his face with one hand.
Peter turned his face into Tony’s palm, eyes slipping shut for a second. ‘Tony’ was all he said.
Tony leaned in for a long hug.
After a short theoretical discussion on the differences between BB-8 and R2D2 to come down from the overload of emotion—and a last forehead kiss—Tony headed over to the master bedroom. He caught the sounds of Pepper getting ready for bed from outside the door, and opened it to find her showered and in her pyjamas, plumping up the pillows.
Theatrically, Tony walked over and let himself fall back onto the end of the bed with a groan.
Pepper paused, looking down at him with raised eyebrows and an unimpressed expression. When Tony groaned again, she couldn’t back her laughter. Laying alongside next to him, she reached out to run a hand through his hair. “Did you put the kids to bed?”
“Mhm.” He strained his neck to glance at the clock on the bedside table: it was barely eleven. “It’s been… a very long day.”
“Yes, it has.” She leaned in to press a lingering kiss to his cheek. “But you’re doing amazing, sweetie,” she said, a playful lilt to her voice.
Tony looked up at her with an amused snort, but quickly sobered. “Do you really think so?”
“Yes, baby.”
“I made a mistake, not talking to Peter about his autism,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Turns out that was stressing him out like crazy. We still have a lot of talking to do...”
Pepper didn’t ask for him to elaborate, no doubt piecing together past bits of conversations and comments with the day’s events. “We all make mistakes, Tony. This isn’t an exact science.”
“Parenthood?” Tony hazarded in a low voice.
She caressed his face, thumbing under his bottom lip. “Mhm.”
“I was always so scared. I don’t…” His jaw clenched despite Pepper’s gentle, understanding touch—this was a conversation they had had before, more than once. “I don’t want to be like my dad.”
“You’re not,” she replied firmly. “Those kids—your kids—adore you, and they know how much you love them.”
Tony raised himself up on his elbows. “I’d do anything for them, Pep. They’re my—you and the kids, you know you’re my everything,” he said fervently, honestly.
Pepper’s eyes were impossibly soft as she leant in to kiss him. “I know. You’re a good man, a good father, a good husband. Do you have any idea how much I love you, you impossible man?”
“Miss Potts, I wouldn’t be anything without you.”
Pepper hummed, scratching at the stubble along his jaw. “I think I’ll take about 12% of the credit.”
Tony chuckled, reaching out to sweep her hair over her shoulder, stroking the soft skin of her neck. “You’re never letting that go, are you?”
“Nope.”
The next day would surely bring its own set of challenges, but Tony had never felt so at peace, never imagined it was possible for him to feel like this, complete with his family in a way he never had before.