Parental Instinct
Tony Stark was a lot of things.
A genius. A billionaire. Occasionally a war criminal depending on the news cycle.
But he was not a dad.
Or… he hadn't been.
Now?
Now he woke up and immediately wondered whether Harry had eaten. If he'd slept. If he'd remembered to turn the stove off after making one of those weird British bean things at 2 a.m.
It was disgusting.
He'd become soft.
He was Googling vitamins.
"Morning, gremlin," Tony said, sliding a smoothie across the kitchen counter.
Harry eyed it suspiciously. "Is this poisoned?"
"It's mango and protein."
"So… yes."
"It's good for your brain."
"I am the brain."
Tony resisted the urge to pour the smoothie directly into the trash. "You need real nutrients. You're built like a scarecrow in leggings."
"I'm aerodynamic."
"You're malnourished."
"I'm efficient."
Pepper breezed in, heels clicking, elegance incarnate. She kissed Tony on the cheek, then leaned down and gently smoothed Harry's hair.
"Eat your fruit, darling."
Harry blinked. "Yes, ma'am."
Tony watched him take a sip like it was divine commandment.
"Are you serious right now?"
Harry sipped louder.
That afternoon, Pepper cornered Tony in the office.
"I've been thinking," she said, tapping a stylus against her tablet.
"Oh no."
She gave him the look.
Tony raised his hands. "Sorry. Continue."
"Harry's not a kid."
"I know that."
"But he's never had family. Not really. And now that he's letting people in, you need to actually show up."
"I am showing up."
"Tony, you bought him noise-canceling socks."
"They were highly rated!"
Pepper sighed. "He doesn't need gadgets. He needs stability. Real support. Maybe a little structure."
Tony blinked. "You want me to give someone structure?"
She gave him a tight smile. "Scary, I know."
Later, Tony tried.
Sort of.
He handed Harry a list.
"What's this?" Harry asked, upside down on the couch, legs over the backrest, Bucky reading beside him like this was a normal Tuesday.
"Daily structure."
Harry squinted. "'Eat breakfast. Touch grass. Minimum three hours without hacking someone?'"
"I'm helping you build habits."
"I have habits. I'm extremely habitual."
"You cannot call 'stealing everyone's hoodies' a lifestyle."
Harry raised a hand. "Objection."
"Denied."
Bucky reached over, tugged Harry's hoodie back down over his exposed stomach, and muttered, "You're cold-blooded."
"I'm cozy. This is cuddle thermoregulation."
Tony threw his arms up. "I give up."
Pepper, from the hallway: "No, you don't!"
That night, Tony stood in the doorway of Harry's room.
Harry was curled up under a pile of blankets, curled around a pillow shaped like a fox. His breathing was even. Peaceful.
There was a notebook on the floor filled with equations and scribbled insults in Latin.
Tony smiled.
Then quietly picked the blanket off the floor and covered him properly.
"Night, kiddo."
From the hallway, Pepper whispered, "You're doing good."
Tony whispered back, "I have no idea what I'm doing."
"That's how we know you're trying."