Chapter 12
Tony rolled over in bed. It felt more lonely tonight, than it had when Peter bad been with him. There was an empty spot next to him, even though the child much preferred to be on top of him, leaving the thousand dollar sheets uncomfortably cold.
He sighed, staring up at the ceiling and wondering when he had become so softhearted.
He supposed it started at that fundraiser event nearly three years ago, when the boys snark and creative inventions had caught the famous mechanics eye.
He supposed it was when Harley had one the prize for first place, but there weren’t any parents in the audience to congratulate him, no dad to clasp him on the shoulder or mother to embarrass the boy by kissing him. There hadn’t even been any grandparents to pink his cheeks and coddle him.
He supposed it could have been when the dreams started, and then continued, and he realized he wasn’t getting out of this ordeal as easily as he had hoped. Or though he had hoped. He was happy he hadn’t been able to escape the kid. Harley has grown on him like a questionable haircut.
Whatever time it was that his heart had begun to thaw, Tony was sure that it had began with Harley and only intensified with Peter. The boys were too undeniably cute not to leave some sort of dent. It’s like they were changing who Tony was, molding him to a better, more loving person. Like they were sewing the man's heart to his sleeve.
Those kids were really dampening his image.
The alterations weren’t just cosmetic though, Tony could feel the changes too. There was a warmth his heart whenever he saw the boys smile, or heard their laugh. An uplifting tingle when he did something he knew Howard would said made a man ‘weak’ but was sure would have his mother grinning approvingly.
He felt it when he turned to his side and his heat tightened at the empty spot beside him.
It was ridiculous, absolutely laughable. It wasn’t like Peter had been taken to Alaska, the kid was right across the hall. He was sleeping in his own room, in his own bed, just like Pepper stressed he do. She had been a real party pooper when she heard Tony’s plans of letting the kid bunk with him. She had rambled on and on about ‘breaking barriers and habits and dependency and separation anxiety’.
Bullshit if you asked Tony.
Still, even knowing his concern and sorrow was in vain, he lay there and strained his ears to listen for the pitter-patter of little feet on the hardwood.
There was none.
Not for five minutes, or ten minutes, or an hour. And Tony was really starting to think that the kid wasn’t as invested as himself, and had long since fallen asleep. Maybe Tony wasn’t as much the kids hero as he had thought he was.
It was self deprecating, yes, but a reasonable thought. Tony had been giving himself too much credit, applauding himself before anything was done or finalized. Counting his eggs before they hatched, naming the baby turtles before they reached the ocean.
He traced his fingers along the chilled sheets and considered how they might always stay empty. How him and Pepper might never get that serious and how maybe Peter was more grown up than Tony had thought. He considers this, a life sleeping alone because there is no one who wants to fill the sheets, to sleep beside him.
It is with that thought, that he falls asleep.
It’s some hours later when Tony feels the silk sheets begin to slip from the bed. He’d been sleeping quite restlessly, tossing and turning and never really submitting to unconsciousness. It must have been all the turning that had pushed his sheets off the edge.
He tugged them back, wrapping them around his shoulders and snuggling further into the fabric. Rolling over, he sees it’s nearly two in the morning. Still, that’s only forty five minutes from when he first allowed himself to close his eyes.
He relaxes again, getting ready for another bout of trying to coax his body to sleep when the blanket moves again. It’s then that Tony realizes they aren’t slipping, they’re being pulled.
It panics him at first, being who he is and having his blankets removed in the early hours of the morning probably isn’t a good thing. It’s after he quickly reasons with himself, that Tony huffs a shirt chuckle.
The blankets are being tugged down which means that whoever is pulling them is either trying to nap on his floor, or are really short. Someone who fits the second of the criteria comes to mind.
“Pete?” He called.
The resistance on the sheets stop and for a moment, Tony is afraid he scared the boy.
“Mr. Stark?” The perp asked. Who, just as Tony had thought, is Peter.
“The one and only, what’s up kid?”
“Duh, duh mom’sters are comin’.” Peter whined, standing on his tiptoes, face inches away from Tony’s own. Tony sat up, the monsters?
“What monsters, Pete?” He asked, flicking on the light beside his bed. Light flooded the room, illuminating Peter’s baby face and allowing Tony to see the kids fearful. wide eyes.
“Duh mom’sters unda’ the bed.” Peter said, nearly rolling his eyes at the obviousness of the situation. Tony hesitated, something he found himself doing quite often when it came to children. He wasn’t sure how to handle this, did he tell the kid that monsters aren't real? That everything was safe in the Penthouse and Peter didn’t have to worry? Probably. That definitely what any other, well prepared parent would do, thats certainly what Pepper would do.
Tony’s definitely not Pepper.
No, Tony was selfish, self deprecating, lonely and cold. The sheets behind him only seemed to grow more and more empty as time ticked on and, honestly, screw following the parenting books.
“Do you want to sleep in here, Pete?” He asked instead. Which, in his books, was a much better alternative. “I’ll keep you safe from the monsters under the bed.” Tony held out his arms, inviting the toddler to be pulled onto the warm mattress.
“Uh-huh!” Peter smiled. “Cuz’ your a supa’ hero!” He exclaimed happily as Tony pulled up.
“That’s right kiddo, your a big Iron Man fan.” Tony replied grinning as he situated Peter into his side. Peter wasted no time in shaking his head, curls flying and bouncing at the movement. Tony couldn’t deny the pure hurt that he felt at seeing Peter deny his greatest invention, at watching this toddler, Tony’s toddler, deny the assumption.
“Not him, silly!” Peter corrected, still smiling and giddy despite Tony’s hurt feelings. “Your gonna p’otect me!”
And if that didn’t make Tony’s heart swell, then it must have been made of stone.
“Oh, Bambino.” Tony swooned, squishing the boy in a bone crushing hug.
They stayed that way for some time, Tony laying with Peters small form buried into his chest. The warmth was comforting, making up for those long hours he had previously been forced to endure by himself. He carded a hand through Peters soft curls, still slightly damp from his pre-bed bath and hummed an old Italian lullaby, a memory from his mom if he remembered correctly.
Long after Tony could have sworn that Peter was fast asleep, and when the man was nearly there himself, the boy spoke; voice soft and coated with sleep.
“What’s Babimo mean?” He asked around the thumb in his mouth, kicking his leg out into a more comfortable position. Tony was surprised, and snorted at the attempt at the name.
“Bambino, Peter.” He softly corrected. “It means ‘baby boy’.”
It was something Tony’s mother had called him, when he was still young enough to be considered one and before his father deemed the “babyish” title inappropriate. Tony had enjoyed the nickname and was sad when it was taken away from him. Still, even after his father had declared it ‘forbidden’ his mother had always been sure to make good use of the term when his father was at a meeting or away on a business trip. When he had used it to refer to Peter, it had escaped before he could think, like second nature.
“I called you that because your my baby boy.” He explained.
“A’e you gonna uh-opt us?” Peter asked. Tony’s hand stilled, causing Peter to look up at him at the sudden stop to the soothing motions. His deep brown eyes were big and wide, shining in the dark as they bore holes into Tony’s own.
By the statement, it was obvious that Peter didn’t know that Harley had already been adopted, or that Tony was already in the process of trying to gain custody over Peter. But, then again, this wasn’t a conversation that they already had and Tony was completely unaware of where Peters four year old knowledge of the system stood. It would be a much better thing to leave for Pepper to explain, or even Harley. But Peter hadn;t gone to them with this, he had come to Tony, and the man didn’t have the strength to deny the boy the right of knowing his own future.
But then, another possibility crossed Tony’s mind: Did Peter even want to be adopted by him? He hoped so, God, he hoped so. But if the kid by chance, didn’t want to, then it wouldn’t, shouldn’t be Tony’s place to make that decision for him.
“Do you want me to?” He asked carefully, chest tight as he waited for the answer.
“Yes, yes, yes!” Peter cheered, scurrying up and whipping around to face Tony. The man grunted when he got a very small and very bony knee to the ribs.
“Let’s go! Uh-dopt us now!” Peter demanded, grabbing at Tonys arm and attempting to tug him to the edge of the bed.
“We can’t do it right now, Pete, it's the middle of the night!” Tony laughed, smiling like a maniacal clown, chest light with cheer and pure happiness. Peter wanted to be adopted, wanted to be adopted by Tony Stark of all people.
“But we gotta!” Peter insisted, a whine sneaking into his tone. He was overtired, something that even tony knew didn’t mix well with small children. He had seen kids misbehave in public before, witness the small horror show that parents called ‘tantrums’.
“It’s three in the morning, bud.” Tony coaxed, pulled the boy back into his side and trying to lay him down. “It can wait.” No it absolutely could not. If Tony could adopt Peter right this very second, he would be down at the courthouse in a heartbeat, bed times be damned.
“Mistah Sta-ark.” Peter moaned. Tossing under the covers as he struggled to find his way out of them.
“Tell you what, kiddo: How about we go to bed now and in the morning, after the sun comes up, you, Harls and I will make pancakes for breakfast?” He waited in silence, scared the kid was going to scream or burst into tears or do something that would raise Tony’s stress levels, but instead, he was met with a quiet:
“Wif choco-chips?”
Tony laughed. “Sure, bud. With chocolate chips.”
***
-The court date is scheduled for tomorrow.-
Tony squinted at the phone, the room still dark, the tinted windows blocking the sunlight from outside.
Pepper had texted him, the buzzing of the phone against the wood of his bedside waking him and causing Peter to stir. He reads the message, heart picking up as the reality of the statement hits him full force.
Tomorrow, as in, twenty-four hours.
He could win or lose everything at that hearing and he pitied Pepper for having to do the worst of it all. She was doing the dirty work, preparing the details of everything while he sat on the side lines and ‘played’ with the boys. He would owe her a lot for this. Although, if they won, a dept such as that would be non-repayable.
“Mistah Stark?” Peter asked as he stumbled to his hands and knees. “S’it mornin’ yet?” Peter’s curls fell into his face, his eyes bleary and closing with sleep. It was quite obvious the kids body was not as ready to wake up as his mind was.
“Yeah, bud. It’s morning.” Tony answered. “Do you want to go wake up, Harls?” He asked, menacingly. Peter nodded, reaching out his arms as he asked to be picked up. Tony obliged, of course, and began to bring the boy down the hall to his older brother’s room.
As soon as the pair crossed the threshold of the door frame, it was like a switch had been flicked in Peter. The moment the kid laid eyes on the sleeping form of his big brother, he became a squirmy, wriggling mess in Tony’s arms. He shimmied himself out of Tony’s arms and onto the floor, taking a large breath and moving to run. And Harley, who used to wake up at the slightest of noises, continued to sleep unsuspecting.
The kid leapt, a flying bundle of small limbs and giggles soared onto Harley’s once peacefully sleeping form. The older boy startled, scrambling to sit up and check his surroundings, nearly knocking Peter off in the process. His fast breaths turned to snorting laughs when he realized the reason for his rude awakening.
“Pete!” He scolded, laughing all the same. “That’s as rude!” He smiled.
“It was funny!” Peter giggled.
“Do you know what your just earned yourself?” Harley threatened, hands raising menacingly. The shit eating grin on the teens face told Tony this wasn’t going to involve any real harm. Not that Harley would ever in a million years harm Peter.
Whatever it is that’s coming, Peter must have been completely informed and not at all on board as he hurried to slip away. Harley however, much bigger and much more coordinated than the smaller of the two, grabbed the toddler and hauled him back onto the bed.
“The tickle monster!” Harley howled, fingers jabbing at the boys armpits and tasing his sides. Peter writhed, giggling and squealing at the action. Both boys are laughing at their antics and Tony swore that it was the best sound he’d ever heard.
Of all the things that Tony was proud of, his famous pancakes were pretty high on that list. The recipe was initially something that he had found on-line and, after many times of making a batch for Rhodey and Pepper, he had modified some of the measurements and added chocolate chips to get ‘the perfect pancake’.
Peter and Harley approved of them immediately.
“Mi’er Sta’k, dese a’e sooo ‘good!” Peter exclaimed around a mouth full of pancakes. He didn’t so much care for the bacon, Tony noticed, as it lay discarded on the side of Peters plate. The boy eagerly went between shoveling mouthfuls of chocolatey pancakes and drinking from his sippy cup of milk.
Harley on the other hand, was more a meat eater than his brother and had already refilled his portion of bacon. Not that Tony minded that, of course.
“Thanks, Pete.” Tony laughed, ruffling the boys hair. Both Harley and Peter smiled at the action. “So kiddos,” he started, “we have to run some errands today.”
Actually, all they really needed to do was go suit shopping for the trial tomorrow and swing by the grocery store to pick up some more ‘Peter friendly’ snacks. If Tony had planned better, something that was quite a rarity, they would have scheduled a fitting for the suits days before, a week preferably: It took time for the tailors to customize the fit and, believe it or not, Tony actually disliked using his money to make things easier. But, things were what they were, they would have to make do with the time schedule they were stuck on.
“Whats a….. Eh-- air-and?” Peter asked, taking his time to carefully work his way through the pronunciation of the word.
“It’s when you have to go and do something that needs to get done.” Harley explains. “Not like going to the park but more like when we have to get refills on your inhaler.” The teen offers.
Tony holds his breath. He knows that little kids would much rather spend their day frolicking around the playsets at the park and that if they didn’t get their ways they could be very… vocal about it. He was already aware that Peter was better behaved than most, but it was better to assume the worst, right?
To Tony’s relief, Peter smiled. And said:
“As long as it’s all us togetha’.”
Damn these kids, they were starting to make Tony feel things.