Chapter Text
The first time Peter met Morgan, he knew two things.
Number one: there was nothing he wouldn't do for this little girl. He'd kill, he'd die, and he'd live for her.
Number two: Morgan was Tony's daughter without a doubt.
~
Before.
Peter's room smelled different. Or maybe not the room, something in the room was different.
Familiar but not out of place. It was an artificial scent, kind of like perfume but not quite.
Peter sighed as he realized without opening his eyes. “Mr. Stark, why are you in my room?”
Tony made some kind of surprised sound. “How'd you know it was me? You didn't even open your eyes!”
Peter grumbled at the loud volume so early, begrudgingly prying his eyes open to glare at the man. And to check the time.
If he focused, he could also hear the man's familiar irregular heartbeat.
“You smell,” Peter deadpanned, “now, why are you in my room at seven in the morning on a Saturday?”
“I do not smell!” Tony defended, “I'll have you know I showered before I came here. You know, just in case Aunt Hot-”
“Finish that sentence and I'll tell Ms. Potts.”
“No, you won’t,” Tony didn’t believe him.
Peter held his gaze. “You want to take that bet?”
Tony clicked his tongue. “You're grouchy in the mornings.”
“I was up late last night and now I'm up early today. For seemingly no reason.” Peter narrowed his eyes at the man.
“Doing something fun hopefully.” Tony raised his brows. “I don't remember seeing any reports of Spider-Man being active.”
If having a panic attack and then spiraling until he finally passed out from exhaustion only to wake up four hours later to shower because he was covered in sweat and felt too uneasy to sleep- if that counted as fun, then, yes! Yes, he did have fun.
Peter didn't voice any of that, though. He couldn't voice it.
Sure, Tony made it abundantly clear Peter could come to him when he was hurt; hurt as in stabbed or shot (probably because it ripped the suit and he wanted to repair it). Or if he needed anything; anything such as a new phone or backpack because they got ruined on patrol.
Tony never meant Peter could go to him for shit like nightmares or panic attacks or any of the other shit he'd been dealing with for years before the man entered his life.
Peter was startled by Tony's flopping on the bed.
“-and I got as far as I could without having to call you to the lab but now it is absolutely necessary if I want to move on with this project.”
Oh, Tony was talking. “Plus, it's your suit and you're a genius so you should probably look at it.” Tony had his hands stuffed in his pocket. “To catch any mistakes I missed and all that.”
Peter blinked at him as he tried to piece together what he missed. “So, you want me to come to the lab?”
“Yep.”
“And you couldn’t have called?” Peter questioned, his brows pulling together.
Tony shrugged. “It’s faster this way. You know me, Parker, I need instant gratification.”
Peter already knew he was going to cave.
“So, are you going to get up?” Tony asked, poking and prodding at Peter’s foot. Likely to annoy him into sitting up.
It worked.
“Fine.” Peter swung his feet onto the floor and out of Tony’s reach.
“Also, I brought you coffee. You know, since I’m such a nice guy.”
“And you couldn’t have led with that?” Peter questioned.
Tony ruffled his hair as he stood up. “It’s only half-caf, though. You’re a growing boy and all; don’t want to stunt your growth or whatever.”
Peter rolled his eyes.
“At least I remembered to get it iced, though.” Tony patted Peter on the head one last time before leaving. “Now hurry up before I decide to drink it.”
It wasn’t an empty threat; evidenced by at least 15% of the drink being gone by the time Peter stumbled out of his room. “Hey! I did not take that long.”
“Hm? Oh, that was just the tax for getting it for you.”
Peter had a flashback to the many times he’d asked Uncle Ben to open a candy bar or soda for him. “Sorry, Pete, gotta pay the tax.”
Peter shook his head to clear the thought. “You don’t even like iced coffee!”
Tony just shrugged. So?
As Tony led him through the door. “Wait. How did you get in?”
“I used a key.”
“What key?” Neither Peter nor May kept a spare key, it was asking for trouble. “Did May give you a key?”
“No, you did. Listen,” Tony held up his hands, “it doesn’t matter how I got the key.”
Doesn’t it? Peter held back the words.
Because, no, he supposed it didn’t matter. “Do you just have no concept of boundaries?”
Tony paused, his brows pulling together as if he couldn’t understand where the question was coming from. In a rare, genuine uncertainty: “Have I made you uncomfortable?”
Peter considered it. “No. But you know, you could have just asked if you could have a copy of the key, right?”
Tony waved him off and continued leading him. “Waste of time.”
.
After.
“Relax, kid,” Tony muttered into his ear.
“I am relaxed.” Peter tried to wipe his hands on his jeans only to stick to them.
At least he had experience with children that he could fall back on. As both Peter Parker and as Spider-Man. Mentally, he thanked his past self for being open to babysitting for his neighbors.
“Uh-huh.” Tony cleared his throat. “Look, she’ll love you, Pete. Hell, I'm pretty sure she already does.”
Peter shot him an odd look. “She doesn’t know me, though?”
Tony’s gaze flicked to the side. “Well, that’s not… entirely true.”
Before Peter could demand an explanation— “PETEY!”
Peter had expected many things, he’d spent the past few hours since finding out Tony had a daughter imagining and wondering how they’re meeting could go.
Maybe she’d be shy or scared of him? Maybe she’d outright hate him? Or just be utterly indifferent to his existence?
None of the scenarios involved Morgan barrelling into him. Clutching and squeezing his legs before looking up and alternating between grabby hands and literal attempts to climb him.
“Morgan!” Tony cried, before turning to Pepper, “I thought we agreed to introduce them inside!”
Pepper made a helpless shrugging movement. “She caught a glimpse through the window and ran out!”
The rest of their conversation faded to the background as Peter focused on Morgan.
“You’re home!” Morgan beamed up at him.
For the first time since everything had gone down, Peter laughed. “I am!”
Morgan squealed as Peter lifted her into his arms with practiced ease. After a moment of squeezing him, she began squirming.
Peter let her down and watched as she ran to Pepper. “Mommy, can he meet Gerald? And have a popsicle?”
“Good news, Mr. Stark,” Peter started as he turned to Tony, “she’s definitely yours— why are you looking at me like that?”
Peter had seen that expression countless times, mainly on his Aunt’s face, but every now and then he’d catch it on Uncle Ben’s.
“Like what?” Tony asked, his head tilting to the side but never losing the expression.
Like you love me. Peter bit the words back.
Obviously, the look wasn’t for him, he realized. It was for Morgan.
“Time’s made you soft, old man,” Peter teased in a light tone that didn’t match how he felt at all.
Tony shook his head and slung his arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. “Nah, I’m pretty sure that was your doing.”
“Mine? Not Morgan’s?”
“You heard me, brat.” Tony wrapped his other arm around him.
Peter laughed but didn’t try to escape Tony’s hold. It was odd and not really normal for them— sure, Tony had been affectionate before the snap, but it was usually in the form of a hand on his shoulder as they walked, head pats, or the rare musing of Peter’s hair.
Not hugs and definitely not kisses pressed to the side of his head. We’re not there yet echoed through his head.
“What’s wrong?” Tony questioned, pulling back slightly.
Peter shook his head, quickly schooling his expression into something close to fine. “Nothing, just thinking.”
Tony looked concerned.
And wasn’t that another interesting thing? Tony who rarely showed his emotions was suddenly an open book— well, not an open book, but he was a bit easier to read.
“No!” Morgan pushed herself in between them.
“Maguna?” Tony asked, peering down at her.
“Get your own!” Morgan shouted.
Oh, there it was. He’d thought things had been going too good to be true. At first, Peter’s heart dropped.
“Morgan! That’s not-”
“Get your own Petey!”
Then, Peter was smothering a laugh with his hand.
.
Before.
“No!”
Peter paused at Tony’s yell. His spidey senses were quiet so he didn’t really know what to think. Tony sounded serious, but he wasn’t in danger.
“Sharing is caring, Tony.” Came the Colonel’s voice, amused and teasing.
“Get back foul beast!” Tony hissed.
“Um,” Peter announced his presence.
“Oh, hi, Peter!” Colonel Rhodes greeted.
“Peter, attack!” Tony commanded, pointing at Rhodes.
“Mr. Stark, I’m not a dog.” Peter folded his arms over his chest.
“Worth a shot.” Tony shrugged and then began yelling again as Rhodes reached for a blanket?
“Is that my blanket?” Peter questioned, recognizing the stitches.
“No, this is my blanket that you gave to me. It’s a gift, no take-backs,” Tony said like he wasn’t trying to kick Rhodes.
“Colonel Rhodes,” Peter started, “what’re you doing?”
“I’m tormenting Tony, you know, like how he’s been tormenting me for years.” Rhodes made another reach for the blanket.
“It’s mine!”
“So, I’m not even allowed to touch it?”
“No!” Tony tried to hide the blanket. “Get your own!”
.
After
“Don’t look at me,” Pepper said as she approached, “that’s all you, Tony.”
“Yeah, Mr. Stark,” Peter agreed, “she’s like a little version of you, it’s crazy.”
Tony grimaced. “Let’s hope not.”
“Yeah,” Peter found himself agreeing, “let’s hope she gets Ms. Potts’ sanity.” Peter paused. “Or is it Mrs. Stark? Or Mrs. Potts?”
“Just call me Pepper, sweetheart,” Pepper said with a kind smile.
“Yes, Pepper,” Peter agreed.
“Wow, okay, I see how it is,” Tony complained in the background. “Years, Pep, literal years of asking…”
Peter tuned him out.
Morgan shot him an odd look. Her brows pulled together and her lips pressed into a line; the expression was a perfect mixture of her parents.
Peter crouched so the girl didn’t have to look up at him. “So, what’s on the agenda today, Miss Morgan?”
“First, we have to meet Gerald.” Morgan held a finger to count one.
Peter shot Tony a look, wordlessly asking who Gerald was.
“Second,” Morgan held up another finger, “we have to get to work.”
“Anything else?”
Morgan nodded very seriously. “And then we have to party.”
Peter grinned at her. “Party? What kind of party?”
“Tea party but I don’t like tea so it’ll be a popsicle party.” Morgan turned to look at Pepper and Tony. “Please? Doesn’t Peter deserve a popsicle?”
Pepper laughed. “Peter? Sure. But if I remember correctly, you’ve already had one today.”
“It’s a special day, Mommy.” Morgan turned to Tony. “Right, Daddy?”
Tony looked between the three of them. “It is a special day…”
“One more popsicle, Morgan, but only because it’s a special occasion,” Pepper relented although she didn’t look bothered.
Morgan cheered. “Time for Gerald!”
Peter let himself be led by the over-excited child.
-
Before.
“How much can you lift?” Tony asked, seemingly out of nowhere.
“Uh, I’m not sure.” Peter pushed memories of a collapsed warehouse out of his mind.
“Do you want to find out?”
Never again.
“How?” Peter asked, not saying no and not saying yes.
“Come on.” Tony grabbed Peter’s arm and began walking.
Peter wasn’t sure why he allowed Tony to drag him out of his stool and through the tower.
.
After.
“You know, you don’t have to let her drag you around, right?” Tony said, after dragging Peter away while Morgan was distracted by Pepper making mac and cheese.
It was Peter’s tenth, maybe twelfth, visit to the Stark’s home. Each time, Morgan wasted no time grabbing Peter’s hand and pulling him to wherever she had decided to play.
Sometimes that was in the living room to watch her favorite movies, sometimes it was in the yard near the lake that Peter never let her get too close to, and sometimes it was to her playroom to play dolls or whatever game she wanted to play.
Not that Peter minded. “Hey, Mr. Stark, Pepper,” he’d greet and by then Morgan was running from wherever she had been.
“What’s on the agenda today, Mr. Stark?”
“What’s on the agenda today, Miss Morgan?” Peter would always ask as he hoisted her into her arms.
“I know,” Peter answered honestly, “I don’t mind. She’s not the first Stark to drag me around,” Peter joked with a pointed brow.
Tony shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Uh-huh.” Peter laughed before getting a hand clapped over his mouth. “Mm?!”
“Shh,” Tony shushed him, “she’ll hear you.”
Peter pushed Tony's hand off his mouth. “Who?”
“Morgan.”
Peter crossed his arms over his chest. “Why are we hiding from Morgan?” He whispered.
“Because if she finds you, she’ll take you and apparently you’ll let her without even trying to defend yourself.”
Peter rolled his eyes even as he grinned. “I appreciate you looking out for me, Mr. Stark, but I really don’t mind! I love Morgan and I love spending time with her.”
“That’s great, but-” Tony started.
It really did feel nice that Tony cared so much, that the man didn’t want him to feel like a glorified babysitter— not that Peter did feel that way. The past few visits, he’d been the one to ask if he could come over.
The last time Peter had gone over a week without visiting, he’d gotten a message from FRIDAY that was a drawing from Morgan. Specifically, a drawing of her by herself and crying with the words: visit soon?
And what kind of monster would he be to say no?
“Mr. Stark,” Peter interrupted, “I really don’t mind! I’m having about as much fun as she is,” Peter admitted.
Tony’s face softened. “Even when she makes you play dolls?”
“Especially when we play dolls.” Peter nodded. “I’ve come up with some pretty sick storylines and backstories.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard.” Tony grinned at him. “I especially loved the character who I’m pretty sure killed her husband.”
Peter shook his head. “I don’t know what you mean. That was spilled juice on the rug.”
“And her husband’s sudden absence?”
Peter couldn't refute that. “Well, you didn’t buy her any guy dolls! I had to think on the spot!”
“And so you decide to kill him?” Tony questioned.
“No! He just decided to go camping after we hiked up Mount kill a man tomorrow.” Peter couldn’t stop himself from laughing. “Besides, she thought it was hilarious.”
Tony laughed with him. “I know, I heard.”
“Mr. Stark,” Peter pretended to be scandalized, “were you watching us?!” He put a hand to his chest as he gasped.
“I wanted to know why my kid was laughing like a madman.”
“Morgan didn’t sound like that!” Peter defended.
“Who said I was talking about-”
“Hey!” The door to the room burst open. “What’s going on in here?”
Peter turned to see Morgan glaring at her father and pointing an accusing finger at him. “Thief!”
“Morgan,” Peter said, “that’s not nice.”
“I know,” Morgan agreed in a low tone, “stealing is very mean.”
“Peter isn’t an object, Maguna, he can’t be stolen.” As Tony said the words, the man tensed.
At the same time, Peter’s chest tightened.
In a way, Peter kind of had been stolen. For five years.
Hearing Tony’s heart begin to speed up and his breaths begin to get shallow and faster, Peter shoved down his own panic.
“Morgan,” Peter stepped in front of Tony, blocking him from her field of view, “is the mac and cheese ready?”
Morgan still looked suspicious. “Mommy sent me to go get you guys.”
“Okay,” Peter nodded, “well, why don’t you go wash your hands? Go- um, go ask Pepper if we can have some popsicles after. I already asked her today, so she'll say no to me.”
Morgan beamed and, like a woman on a mission, darted off to go get Pepper.
“Are you okay, Mr. Stark?” Peter reached out but faltered a few inches before making contact.
Tony pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to take in a deep breath. “I’m fine.”
“Is- is there anything I can do?” Peter asked.
“Can you-” Tony swallowed and opened his arms. “Can you come here?”
“Don’t touch me!”
That was…different.
Peter let himself get pulled into Tony’s arms, though.
Different didn’t mean bad, he decided as he thunked his head against Tony’s shoulder. Letting out the tension he’d been holding in with a sigh.
“I’m glad you’re here, Peter,” Tony whispered.
“Me too, Tony.”
Tony’s chuckle was wet. “I heard that.”
“Heard what, Mr. Stark?” Peter pulled back to look at him with an innocent expression. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Tony sniffed. “Little shit.”
“That’s me.” Peter looked down at his socks, mismatched- one Iron Man and the other War Machine.
“Kid?”
“Do you think…” Peter kicked an invisible piece of dirt. “Do you think I could stay the night tonight? May’s working and I don’t want-” to be alone.
“Of course, kid. I’ll show you to your room after dinner, okay?”
Your room.
Peter shoved down the hope that was flourishing. It was too easy to pretend, to act as if he really was Morgan’s brother and Tony thought of him as his kid rather than some kid.
But that wasn’t the reality.