Stay

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/48858832.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: Gen
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Iron Man
(Movies)
Relationship: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Character: Tony Stark, Peter Parker, Happy Hogan, Pepper Potts
Additional Tags: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Canonical Character
Death, regarding Peter's parents, Kid Peter Parker, Peter Parker is
Tony Stark's Biological Child, Traumatized Peter Parker, Human
Experimentation, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Feral Peter Parker, Tony
Stark Has A Heart, Hurt/Comfort, Peter is four but he has his powers,
Peter Parker - Freeform
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2023-07-25 Updated: 2023-07-26 Words: 5,962 Chapters:
2/?

Stay
by marvelousfan

Summary

That life-changing phone call came around noon on a Wednesday morning in early
September, 2005, though he didn’t know how much it would alter his world at the time.

It wasn't until he was lying there, on the floor, peering at the four-year-old who was hiding
under the bed, the child who had his eyes, who was traumatized and terrified and refused to
let anyone near him, that he realized just how real this was.

He had a son.
 The News

That life-changing phone call came around noon on a Wednesday morning in early September,
2005, though he didn’t know how much it would alter his world at the time.

Tony was asleep when it came, passed out on the couch he had planted in his lab for the very
situation he was in now, when he was too tired to make his way to his room after a long night
experimenting. He’d had quite a few drinks the night before, to top it off, so he had no plans on
getting off the couch for a few more hours, at least.

He ignored the call at first, brushing off JARVIS when he informed him of it, but when it came a
second time immediately afterwards, he sighed and ran a hand over his face.

“Fine, answer it.”

“Dr. Stark,” an unfamiliar, feminine voice spoke up, making Tony’s nose wrinkle in distaste at the
use of his doctorate, “My name is Cynthia Hanley, and I am with the New York Child Protective
Services. We have a child who has just come into our care whose mother left in her will that you
are the father.”

He sighed at her words and let his head drop back onto the armrest of the couch. He was familiar
with these calls. He got them every few months. Some women that he’d slept with at one point, and
even some he hadn’t, who later got pregnant often tried to claim him as the father, eager for the
hefty child support payment that they would receive.

They always turned out to be false. Tony may have slept around quite a bit, but he was always
careful.

Though, he had to admit that the situation seemed to be a little different than he was used to. From
the language the woman had used, this child’s mother was dead.

“Let me guess. You need a paternity test,” he said with a light huff, “I’m going to assume that you
won’t accept me sending you my own analyzed DNA?”

“To avoid legal ramifications, I think not,” Hanley said with a light puff of air, “I won’t ask you to
come all the way to New York, though. I know you’re a busy man. I can arrange for the paternity
test to be taken there in California and sent over.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sounds like a plan,” he said, slowly pushing himself into a sitting position, “Let’s get
this cleared up.”

There was not a doubt in Tony’s mind that the test would be false.

In fact, he was so unconcerned about the whole situation that it completely slipped his mind. The
only person he even informed about it was Happy, since the man drove him to take the test. He had
his cheeks swabbed and was in a meeting within the hour, showcasing the newest missiles he had
created.

The child in New York was nothing but a passing thought.

Until, of course, three days later, when he got a second phone call.
He was awake this time, tinkering with some wiring.

“Sir,” JARVIS spoke up, the blaring music falling away so Tony could hear, “Cynthia Hanley is
on the line.”

“Who’s that?” Tony asked, distracted.

“She’s from Child Protective Services.”

“Right, right. Put her through,” there was a gentle click, “Got the results?”

“I did, Dr. Stark,” Hanley’s voice sounded different from before, surprise coloring her voice, like
she had not expected the results, “According to the paternity test, you are the father.”

It took Tony a moment to understand that she had said he was the father. He was so used to hearing
the opposite that he only hummed at first before it registered. His hands jerked, sparks flying from
the wires as he snapped to attention.

“I’m sorry, did you say I am the father?” he demanded.

“It appears so, Dr. Stark. Do you recall a Mary Parker? Or perhaps Mary Fitzgerald?” Hanley
asked, her voice falling into a cool, professional manner, as if the entire world hadn’t stopped
spinning on its axis.

His mouth felt dry. The name dimly rang a bell, but he couldn’t put a face to the name.

“A picture might help,” he said weakly.

This was impossible. He couldn’t be a father. He couldn’t. Starks weren’t meant to be fathers. He
had learned that years ago with his own. He had long since told himself that he’d be leaving the
company to a high-raking employee, that all his money would go into the business or charity. The
Stark line ended with him.

It had to.

“Well, Mary Parker and her husband were killed in a plane crash ten days ago,” Hanley continued
despite Tony’s spiral, “Her son, your son, is four years old. His name is Peter. He was born on
August 10th, 2001.”

He did the math quickly. He was most likely conceived around November of 2000, maybe a little
later depending on if he was born premature or not.

Mary Fitzgerald. Mary Parker. Mary Fitzgerald. Mary Parker.

Oh. Oh, he knew who she was.

Mary Fitzgerald. She was an up-and-coming biologist. They’d met at a gala, and he’d been
impressed by her work. They’d talked over drinks, she complained about her ex-boyfriend, and
then they’d gone back to his place.

She’d been gone in the morning. Didn’t even leave a note.

The whole experience, compared to some of his nights, had been so unremarkable that he’d barely
remembered it. He never once thought about Mary Fitzgerald again.

How did their one little night, their brief moment together, result in a living, breathing child?
“Oh,” he breathed out, closing his eyes, “I’m a father.”

“How would you like to proceed?” Hanley asked.

“Can I meet him?” he found himself asking before he could even think about what that would
mean.

There was a brief pause on the other end, long enough for Tony to regret it already. He should just
sign away rights, shouldn’t he? That’s what Obie would tell him to do. He could set up a college
fund and sign away his rights and let the boy be adopted by a stable, loving home that could care
for him.

He couldn’t give him that.

Peter didn’t deserve his mess.

“Well, I’m afraid it isn’t that simple,” Hanley said finally, breaking through his thoughts, “You
see, Peter’s case is… especially difficult.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“When Mary and her husband, Richard Parker, went on the plane, Peter was left at home. Alone.
He was there for three days before he was discovered.”

Tony sat back in his chair and let out a breath. Three days, alone. Hanley said his son was four
years old. Tony didn’t know a lot about children, but he knew that four-year-olds shouldn’t be left
alone for that long. Even his own father hadn’t done that, ensuring that he had a nanny in place.

“We don’t know the extent that occurred while Peter was in their care, unfortunately. He is
terrified of strangers and refuses to let anyone near him. We haven’t even been able to get him out
of his house.”

“He’s four,” Tony shot back, eyebrows furrowed, “I don’t think he can make that decision.”

“Like I said, this situation is very unique,” Hanley said, “Though, I suppose with your family
history, you are one of the best people to understand this situation.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m afraid I can’t say much more over the phone. How soon can you be in New York?”

And Tony… well, Tony was never one to be patient.

“I can be there tomorrow,” he said.

“I’ll see you then.”

Peter Parker was enhanced.

His son was enhanced.

The little four-year-old child was enhanced, with strength possibly rivalling Captain America’s and
a curious ability to stick to walls. He had attacked the men who had tried to get close to him, had
scurried away from them on the walls. He was adamantly refusing to leave, hiding around the
house whenever anyone came by and not coming out again until he was alone.
“We found evidence inside the house that he was experimented on,” Hanley, who turned out to be a
short and plump middle-aged woman with shoulder length brown hair and thick black glasses,
informed him as they approached the Parker’s front door, “The police are already involved, but
even they can’t get the kid to come out. They tried to use a sedative on him, but it didn’t work. I
think he has an enhanced metabolism.”

He could hear Happy behind them, cursing softly under his breath as he looked at the house. He
could tell the man was tense. He had explained to him the situation on the flight over, at least the
parts about him having a son, and it was clear that happy was a little panicked about the possible
threat.

Particularly about the possible threat being a four-year-old child.

Quite the moral dilemma.

“We’ve had someone always stationed here since we discovered him. No one can stomach the idea
of leaving the kid alone, but no one can get him to come out. Officer Guffey just left.”

"How did you even get his DNA?" Tony asked, blinking at the door.

"One of the officers got it from a water bottle that we left out for him."

Hanley pushed the door open, and the three of them walked in. The entrance to the home was
entirely unremarkable in Tony’s opinion. The living room contained a couch, a recliner, a coffee
table, and a television. There was a picture of picture of Mary and Richard on their wedding day, as
well as multiple degrees framed and put on display.

There was absolutely nothing to indicate the bizarre situation that had occurred inside the house.

“Looks normal,” he commented with a frown.

“Most of the home does, as long as you don’t get into the basement,” Hanley commented, shaking
her head, “That’s where Peter’s room is, but he isn’t usually down there. Whenever I find him, he’s
usually somewhere in the main house.”

“Should we call him?” Tony asked a little uncertainly.

“It won’t do anything. He already knows we’re here, I’m sure, and he’s not going to come out
himself. We’ll have to look around. Be careful, though. Don’t approach him if you find him.”

Tony looked at Happy again, feeling incredibly out of his depth.

But Tony Stark was not one to back away from challenges.

He wandered the house with Happy trailing him, eyes flicking around for hiding places that a four-
year-old could fit into. He looked behind doors, in cabinets, even on the ceiling when he
remembered the child’s uncanny abilities.

Nothing.

“Boss, are you sure about this?” Happy asked him, keeping his voice quite so that Hanley couldn’t
hear as they entered what seemed to be the Master Bedroom, “This could be dangerous.”

“It’s a child, Hap. My child,” Tony said simply, quirking an eyebrow at him, “What else should I
do?”
Happy didn’t respond, but he didn’t look happy about the situation.

The bedroom they found themselves in was much like the living room. The large, king-sized bed
sat against the wall in the center, flanked by beautiful end tables. There was a mahogany dresser
across from it, with a flat screen television sitting on top of it.

It didn’t scream abusive mad scientists to him. It seemed like a normal bedroom, if a little
expensive.

Tony glanced around in the room for a moment before kneeling on the ground to look underneath
the bed. The blue comforter fell all the way to the floor, so he lifted it up to look.

And found himself staring at a little boy.

Peter was small, much smaller than Tony had expected. His skin was incredibly pale, and his
brown hair was long and dirty. His much-too-thin body was covered in an overly large white T-
shirt which was clearly in need of a wash. His brown eyes were wide and terrified as he stared at
Tony, curled in on himself as if to make himself smaller.

“Oh,” he said, blinking in surprise, “I found him.”

Part of him had still been under the thought that none of this was real, but here, staring at the boy
in front of him, he couldn’t deny it.

This was Peter.

This was his son.

“Hey, Pete,” he greeted him, keeping his voice quiet, as if approaching a wild animal, “It doesn’t
look too comfortable down there. Want to come out?”

Peter said nothing. He made no indication that he had even heard what Tony said, simply pressing
himself back against the wall and keeping his eyes trained on him warily.

He could hear Happy calling out to Hanley, letting her know that they had found Peter, but he kept
his focus on the boy.

He wasn’t good with kids, but he wasn’t one to back down from a challenge.

He adjusted his position so that he was laying on his stomach, propped up on his arms.

“I bet you’re hungry, aren’t you?” Tony said. He reached down into his pocket and pulled out the
granola bar that Hanley had given him before they arrived, mentioning that they always brought
food for the child. He opened the wrapper and stuck his hand under the bed, handing the food to
Peter.

“Oh!” he yelped, wrenching his hand back as pain blossomed along it, leaving the granola bar
under the bed.

“Boss, what happened?” Happy was by his side in an instant as Tony sat up, nursing his hand to his
chest.

“The kid bit me!” he exclaimed, eyes wide. He looked down at his hand, where teeth marks
embedded themselves into the skin, though luckily, he didn’t draw blood, “The kid actually bit
me!”
“I told you not to approach him,” Hanley said at the door, frowning at him, “You’re lucky that’s all
he did.”

“I didn’t approach him! I was just handing him the granola bar,” Tony defended.

“Just slide it under the bed,” Hanley said. She knelt to peer at Peter, “Sorry about him, kid. He’s
still learning. This is Tony. I told you he was coming yesterday. Remember?”

Peter made no indication that he had, simply staring at them cautiously as he took a bite of the
granola bar.

From his too-thin body, he clearly needed more than just the granola bar.

Hanley leaned back to look at Tony.

“I’ve been coming over for days, and he still doesn’t trust me,” she told him, “This is something
that will take a lot of time and patience.”

“We can’t just leave him here,” Tony argued.

“You’re right. That’s why we always have someone stationed in the house,” Hanley reminded him
of her earlier statement, eyebrow raised, “Now, I’m here for the next four hours, and then we’ve
got a police officer coming over to stay the night. The problem, I think, is that no one is here long
enough for him to get comfortable. We really need someone who can stay here until Peter comes
out on his own. With his abilities, there’s no other option.”

He hesitated at her words. He knew what she wanted. He knew what he should do. Peter was his
son. He helped bring this traumatized child into the world. It was his responsibility.

Tony was never great with responsibility.

But he couldn’t just leave.

“Okay,” he breathed out, rubbing the teeth marks on his hand as he stared at the bed, “Okay, I’ll
stay.”
 Progress

Hanley left around an hour later, promising to return in the morning. Tony and Happy brought the
bags in from the car, ordered pizza, and spent half an hour exploring the Parker residence.

The house was a decent size, with three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a full, finished basement.
The first and second stories were a typical, run-of-the-mill, upper-class home, complete with brand
new appliances and technology, expensive furniture, and ornate decorations. It was clear, however,
that something was wrong, namely in the fact that there was not a single picture of Peter in the
home, nor any toys or other indication that a child lived there.

In fact, with how utterly silent Peter was, it was easy to believe that the house was empty.

The basement was a whole different story.

The door to the basement was metal and, at one point, had been securely locked. Hanley told them
before she left that when the police first arrived there, they had gotten into the basement, and that’s
where they first found Peter. He had fled out of the basement and into the main house, where he
tended to stay now.

The basement itself was rather spacious, but it was crammed tight with lab equipment. There was a
cabinet full of all sorts of chemicals, a drawer full of documents that Tony resolved to read up on,
and a table with metal restraints attached to it in just the right places for a child. A cage with half a
dozen bright green and black spiders, all of which were dead, was nearly hidden in the back of the
lab, and there was a door to what seemed to be a walk-in closet, but it only held a single pillow and
blanket.

Tony knew, with a sinking stomach, that that was Peter’s room.

“This is crazy,” he muttered as he stared at the tiny space, “This is horrible.”

“Tony, are you sure about this?” Happy asked from behind him, “No one would blame you if you
backed out. This kid needs serious help.”

“He’s my son, Happy,” Tony said, emphasizing the word as if he could make it sound real to
himself.

“Do you even know what you’re doing, boss?”

“Absolutely not,” Tony said. He turned around and clapped Happy on the shoulder, “So let’s
figure it out together.”

Peter wasn’t under the bed anymore when he returned, but it didn’t take him long to find the boy in
the cabinet under the sink. He had to dodge a little fist when he opened the door to the cabinet, but
Peter didn’t leap out at him to attack. He just eyed him warily once Tony had backed away, his
little arms wrapped tightly around his legs.

“There you are, Pete,” Tony said, keeping his voice light and careful. He leaned back against the
bathroom wall and sat down, “You gave me a bit of a scare disappearing like that.”

Peter didn’t respond, just kept staring at him with those wide brown eyes. He curled in more on
himself, and in the new direction, Tony could see that he was trembling.
“This is all pretty scary, isn’t it?” Tony hummed gently, “Your parents haven’t come home, and
there are all these strangers coming in that you’ve never met before. I’d be scared, too.”

Peter’s eyebrows furrowed. It wasn’t a response, but it was an indication that he was aware that
Tony was talking to him. Tony decided to take that as a win.

“How about I introduce myself so I’m not a stranger? I’m Tony. I live in Malibu, and I run a
company called Stark Industries. That man out there is Happy. He’s my security guard. His job is
to protect me. He’ll protect you, too. I promise.”

He could tell that the child was listening to him, but he wasn’t responding, just watching him.

“I don’t know if the bathroom sink cabinet is the best place to be,” Tony pointed out, nodding his
head at all the plumbing that Peter was squished in with, “Why don’t you come out?”

Peter’s only response was to curl up even tighter.

“Alright, you don’t have to come out, now. Maybe later?” he suggested, though he received no
response.

Before he could receive anything else, Peter sucked in a breath and curled up tighter, his shaking
growing more pronounced moments before there was a sharp knock at the door.

“Pizza’s here,” Happy called out.

“It’s just the pizza guy, Peter,” Tony attempted to reassure him. He pushed himself to his feet and
slipped out of the bathroom, making his way to where Happy was tipping the pizza guy and
bringing in the food.

As Happy sat the pizza on the table, Tony rummaged through the cabinets in search of plates. Once
he found them, he made two separate plates: one with two slices, and one with a single slice. He
also fished out two water bottles, which had been left on the table by someone during a previous
visit and made his way back to the bathroom.

He should have expected Peter to be gone when he returned, but he sighed in disappointment
anyway.

“Peter,” he called out, “I’ve got some pizza. Are you hungry?”

No response.

He sat the plates on one of the endtables in the bedroom and drew a hand over his face.

“Peter,” he called again. He knelt to look under the bed once more, but he wasn’t there, “You want
to let me know where you are?”

Nothing.

He ducked back into the bathroom and looked behind the shower curtain, but Peter wasn’t there.
He looked behind the door, then headed back into the bedroom.

“You never, I always wanted to play hide-and-seek when I was a kid,” he commented, “It’s not as
fun as I thought it would be.”

After another scan of the bedroom, he turned to the closet door, swinging it open.
Peter wasn’t immediately visible. Mary had a lot of floor-length dresses hanging up, after all, and
there were several boxes impeding his vision in the closet. Just when he was about to turn around,
he caught sight of a pair of dirty feet sticking out, and he found himself nodding.

He reached out to move the dresses out of the way, but then he paused.

Was this what he should be doing? Peter was clearly scared. Should he be seeking him out like this,
pulling away at his sense of security? Was he doing more damage this way?

“Okay,” he breathed out, “You can stay in here.”

He walked back over to the end table and grabbed the plate with the single slice of pizza and a
water bottle. He took it over to the closet and set it down on one of the boxes.

“Here’s some food, Peter. We’ll be downstairs.”

He left the closet door open, but he left the room. He could hear the plate brushing against the
cardboard as Peter took the food, but he didn’t come out.

Tony left Peter alone for the rest of the night.

He spent the evening in the living room with Happy, responding to emails and working on some
schematics for his latest design. Happy had turned on the television and watched some sitcom that
Tony had never seen before, but he turned it off around ten, pulling out his CPAP machine and
getting it set up.

Tony considered heading upstairs to find a proper bed to sleep on, but he’d told Peter they would
be in the living room, and something told him it was important to stick to what he said.

He found some extra pillows and blankets in a closet, and they settled in the living room, Tony
taking the couch, and Happy taking the recliner.

(He tried not to think about the fact that he was sleeping in the house of his son’s deceased
mother.)

The combination of Happy’s CPAP machine and his racing thoughts made sleep practically
impossible. Tony had survived on little sleep before, though, so it wasn’t really a problem for him.

Until, at least, he realized that there was no coffee in that house.

“What kind of people don’t keep coffee in their house?” he groaned at six in the morning, when
Happy finally woke up.

“They experimented on a four-year-old child, and that’s what you’re concerned about?” Happy
cocked an eyebrow at him.

“I can be concerned about multiple issues,” Tony shot back, “Why don’t you go get us some
coffee?”

“I’m not leaving you here alone,” Happy responded with a quirked eyebrow.

“Well, I can’t leave Peter here alone,” Tony said.

It was decided, then, that they would have to make do until Hanley arrived.
Happy dug through the pantry and found some bagels. It wasn’t Tony’s favorite, but it would have
to do.

After heating up the bagels, he brought one up on a plate, as well as another bottle of water, and
headed back into the Parker’s bedroom.

He was ready to do another search for Peter, but he was pleasantly surprised to find him still in the
closet, hiding behind the dresses. He set the plate down on the box again.

“Got you some breakfast, Peter,” he said casually, “Eat up.”

He backed away from the closet and watched as the dresses slowly parted, revealing Peter’s little
face, eyeing him. He was still dressed in that raggedy shirt, but he was clutching a coat to his chest,
hugging it tightly. He reached out, took the plate and water bottle, and let the dresses fall back into
their place.

An idea popped into his mind.

He grinned to himself as he made his way back down to the living room and grabbed his phone.

“Hey, Hanley,” he said when the social worker answered, “You’re still coming over today, right?
I’ve got a favor.”

Cynthia Hanley arrived around lunch time with McDonalds and several shopping bags. Tony
clapped his hands as he took them from her, quickly starting to cart through them.

“Ah, coffee. Finally,” he said with a smile, handing it over to Happy to get it going, before he
grabbed what he was really looking for.

It was a large, stuffed brown and white dog. It had on a fake, blue collar, and it was soft to the
touch. Tony smiled widely at the sight of it. He’d had Hanley send him pictures of all the different
stuffed animals the store had before deciding on this one.

“I think it’s a good idea,” Hanley said, a pleased smile on her face, “Just be careful.”

He grabbed one of the cheeseburgers from the McDonalds bag and made his way back up the
stairs without another word, eager to present his gift.

And Peter was still in the closet.

“Hey, Pete. I’ve got something for you,” he said.

The dresses parted again, and Peter peered out at him hesitantly. His eyes fell on the burger. Tony
carefully stepped forward, moving slowly as he sat the burger down on the box and pulled his
hand back quickly before he could get bit like the day before, but though Peter tensed when he
drew near, he didn’t try and attack.

A small, thin hand reached out and grabbed the burger once Tony had moved away enough.

“That’s not all,” he said. He pulled out the stuffed dog and held it in front of him, “I got this for
you.”

This time, when Peter’s wide eyes fell on Tony, they had a flash of surprise in them, and maybe a
hint of… excitement?
Tony moved slowly once more as he held it out. He waited for a moment to see if Peter would take
it from him, but when he didn’t, he set it down on the box like he had done the food.

Peter grabbed it instantly.

Tony watched as the child held the stuffed animal in front of him, big brown eyes gliding along it,
fingers petting along the soft faux fur. A small smile appeared on his lips.

And Tony…

Tony felt like the angels had started to sing. He stared at the sight, at the beautiful sight of the boy
smiling at the simple gift and smiled so widely that his cheeks hurt.

“It’s yours,” he said, “I figured you’re probably a little lonely in there, so he can keep you
company.”

Peter looked back up at him. He hugged the dog to his chest with one arm, and with the other, took
a small bite of his hamburger. Their eyes connected, and though there was still that same hesitance
and wariness from before, there was something else there, too.

“Tony Stark, you better have a good reason for disappearing,” Pepper Potts demanded across the
phone later that day, when he finally decided to call her back after realizing how many missed
messages he had from his assistant, “Do you know how much damage control I’ve had to do?”

“Well, it’s nice to hear from you, too. I’m doing well. How are you?”

“Don’t try that with me, Tony. I am not in the mood.”

He sighed and leaned back on the couch, holding his phone to his ear. On the recliner, Happy sent
him an almost sympathetic look before glancing back at the television.

“Look, something came up,” he said after a beat, “Hap and I took a quick getaway to New York.”

“New York!? Tony, you have responsibilities here.”

“I’ve got a responsibility here, too,” he said, “Namely a four-year-old named Peter.”

There was a long moment of silence. Tony cringed at it, holding the phone slightly away from his
ear as he waited for the response.

“Tony,” Pepper’s voice was much quieter than he expected, almost a deadly quiet, “You’re not a
father.”

“Ah, see, that’s where you’re wrong,” Tony said, attempting to keep his voice as casual as he
could, but he couldn’t help the nerves from leaking through, “Got a paternity test and everything.”

“Tony,” Pepper emphasized, but she didn’t say anything else.

“The situation is a bit difficult. I’m not sure how to explain it all without you here. I don’t know
how long I’ll be here, so just… hold down the fort.”

“Obadiah isn’t going to be happy,” Pepper said, her voice sounding a bit weak with surprise,
unable to wrap her head around what he had told her.

“Obie’s not really my concern right now,” he said.

He was surprised by how much he meant that, surprised by how much space Peter had taken up in
his thoughts. He didn’t have a clue what he was doing, but there was something in the way the
child had smiled at him, so hesitantly, so scared, that had tugged at his heartstrings in a way that he
didn’t think was possible.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Tony,” Pepper said quietly.

“Not a clue,” he responded back, “I’ll talk to you later.”

He hung up his phone and leaned his head back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling.

“Am I doing the right thing?” he asked Happy without looking at him.

“That’s yet to be determined, boss… but your heart is in the right place.”

Tony blinked at his words and looked up at him.

That was a new one.

Peter came out of the room for the first time that night.

Had Tony not been kept awake by Happy’s machine, he wouldn’t have even noticed.

It was well past midnight when it happened. Tony was lying on his back on the couch, his eyes
closed, trying and failing to get some semblance of sleep.

It wasn’t until he heard a door open in the kitchen that he opened his eyes. At first, he glanced over
at Happy, thinking the man had gotten up, but he was still dozing peacefully in the recliner.

Shaking his head, he pushed the thought away and turned his head back, telling himself he had just
heard something.

A beat passed. Tony heard the door close, then the sound of something moving.

He opened his eyes just in time to see a tiny form crawling on the ceiling, a poptart in his mouth,
and one hand clutching tightly onto the stuffed dog that Tony had gotten him.

It was one thing to be told that his son could climb walls, but it was another to see a four-year-old
boy crawling around on the ceiling when he could easily slip and fall.

He couldn’t stop the gasp from leaving his lips as he sat up quickly, heart pounding in his chest.

“Peter-“

The child gasped, obviously not expecting Tony to be awake. The poptart fell from his mouth and
hit the ground with a dull thud, and Peter scurried across the ceiling towards the stairs and out of
sight.

It took Tony a minute to calm his racing heart, and when he did, he let out a low groan.

He just had to go and scare Peter, didn’t he? Of course, he did.

He pushed himself to his feet and walked over to the poptart package, which was lying abandoned
on the ground. He picked it up off the floor and felt how it crumbled in his hand, before he headed
into the kitchen to retrieve a new package.
He made his way up the stairs and entered the bedroom, knocking gently on the door to announce
himself.

“Hey, buddy. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said. He approached the closet again and peered in,
but he couldn’t see Peter in there. He cursed in his head at the revelation that the boy had changed
hiding spots again.

He was about to head back to the couch when he heard sniffling, which stopped him in his tracks.
He paused, listened carefully, then knelt on the ground and peered under the bed.

Peter was there again. He was clutching the stuffed animal tightly to his face, attempting to use it
to silence his cries. It wasn’t working very well.

“Hey, Peter,” he said quietly. He carefully positioned himself onto his side so he could see him
better, “It’s okay, buddy. I just got scared because you were on the ceiling. I hadn’t seen it before,
and I was worried you could fall,” he said, feeling incredibly out of his depth.

Peter looked at him with wide, watery brown eyes, face wet with tears.

Tony carefully slid the poptart package over to Peter.

“Hungry?” he asked him carefully.

Peter, incredibly, nodded. He brought out a tiny hand to grasp the sugary snack, his eyes glued
onto Tony as he sniffed.

It was the first time he got any kind of response, and Tony couldn’t help but grin.

“You don’t have to sneak any food, bud. If you’re hungry, come get something, or ask us for some,
okay?” Tony said, though he had a feeling that was asking a bit much of Peter now. He licked his
lips and smiled at him before shifting onto his back so he could look up at the ceiling. There was a
brief moment of silence before he said, “Have you heard how loud that CPAP machine Happy
has?”

He didn’t really expect an answer, but Peter gave a tiny, almost unnoticeable nod.

“I cannot get any sleep with that thing,” he said with a light laugh, “I don’t know how he does it.”

It was quiet in this room, though. Peter was silent, the only sounds being his sniffles, which were
slowly going away.

The floor wasn’t comfortable, but Tony had gotten practically no sleep in the last forty-eight hours,
and he could feel his eyes closing already.

But he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t sleep here, as much as he would like. Peter wouldn’t come out
from under the bed if Tony was in here, and he wanted the boy to have a little freedom.

So, with a sigh, he sent the child another smile and pushed himself to his feet.

“Why don’t you get some sleep, Peter?” he suggested quietly, “I’ll try and do the same.”

As expected, he didn’t get a response from the boy, but he didn’t let it bother him.

They still had a long way to go, but this was progress.
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