A Slice Of Life, Death And Everything In-Between

A Sloppy Bank Robber

Prompt by @no-one: I just wanted to write something lol

Peter, buddy, you really need to clean your shoes off lakjsdlkfj ENJOY THE FLUFF :D

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"Underoos?" Tony's voice floats up the stairs and the spiderling reluctantly pauses his game, setting down his XBox controller with a sigh. "Come down here, please."

"Coming!" Peter yells, sitting up in his gaming chair and stretches, scratching at the back of his neck.

Staying at the Tower with his mentor-turned-adopted-dad was the best part of Peter's weekend. Getting to go out as Spider-Man and spend time with Tony?

Nothing could beat that.

Ever.

Making his way across the hall and bounding down the stairs, the boy comes to a quick halt as he enters the living room. Tony is standing near the window, his arms crossed over his black band t-shirt and his eyebrows raised.

The New York skyline, outlined in baby blue as the morning turns midday, is spread out behind the man and Peter squints against the glare of the sun as he crosses the room.

"What have I told you about running?"

Peter groans, rolling his eyes goodnaturedly. "Not in the house."

"That's right." Tony smirks, reaching over to gently ruffle Peter's curls as the boy gets closer. "I knew I sent you to that smart school for a reason."

"Oh, har har, very funny." Reaching up to smooth down his tousled hair, the teenager tilts his head. "So, what did you need? Forget how to turn the TV on?"

"Now who's the funny one, mister?" Tony reports back, but his eyes are sparkling and Peter laughs as the man pulls him against his side. "No, actually, I wanted to talk to you about something."

Poking his dad in the stomach, Peter grins up at the man when he lets out a startled curse. Tony, after poking Peter back and causing the spiderling to stifle his giggles against the back of his hand, gently steers them both to the kitchen, stopping near the fridge.

"So, my amazing and wonderful son," The genius says, pulling Peter back from where the 15-year-old was leaning against his side, his head resting against his father's shoulder. "You have spider powers."

"Wow." Peter snorts, hopping up onto the counter and swinging his legs, his heels bumping against the cabinets with muffled thuds. "Really working that genius brain of yours today, huh Dad?"

Tony reaches over and lightly flicks Peter's ear, ignoring the yelp the boy lets out. "Let me finish before you start running your mouth, buddy."

Waiting until Peter nods, Tony leans down and opens the drawer under the sink, pulling out a rag and a small bucket. Setting the container on the counter, the billionaire hits his son's hand away when Peter makes a grab at it, glaring at the boy when he laughs in response.

"Oh yeah, you're laughing now, kiddo." Tony smirks, stepping back and watching as Peter's face falls slightly in confusion. "Not for long though, not for long, trust me."

"What--?"

Holding up a finger, Tony points to the rag and bucket, his voice now stern. "Let me finish, Peter. You have spider powers. You swing from webs and have super strength. But what else, oh tell me what, Petey-Pie, am I forgetting?"

Shit.

Suddenly understanding, Peter gulps, all his earlier amusement gone in a flash. "Uhh."

"Don't 'uh' me, bambino. " Snapping his fingers, Tony makes a 'get down' gesture, nodding when Peter immediately hops off the counter and stands in-front of him, his head lowered. "You know the answer."

"I-I can walk on walls."

Giving a sarcastic clap, Tony turns on the faucet, holding the bucket under the spray. "Good job, bud. Yes! You can walk on walls and on the ceiling. Would you care to look up and tell me just what those are?"

Grimacing, Peter briefly glances above them, already knowing the mess that stains the normally white walls. Looking back at his dad, Peter fidgets, wringing his hands as Tony crosses his arms.

The genius raises an unimpressed eyebrow, propping himself up against the side of the sink.

"Well?"

The Dad Voice has come out full-swing and the teenager flinches a bit at the sound of it. However, a small bundle of warmth pools in his stomach as well, and Peter has to bite his lip to stop from smiling.

Tony Stark really is his dad now, huh?

The sound of Tony clearing his throat shakes Peter from his thoughts and the boy jumped, glancing up to see his mentor's dark eyes clouded in annoyance.

"Those are uh-those are footprints." Peter finally squeaks out, cursing interally when he stutters. "On the-the ceiling."

"Whose footprints, Pete?"

"Mine." Peter fiddles with the hem of his dad's old MIT sweatshirt, wringing out the fabric. "They are my footprints."

A sudden, warm hand engulfs his own and Peter reluctantly stops his fidgeting, raising his eyes to meet his father's as the genius leans closer. His gaze is gentle this time and Peter nearly sighs in relief at the sight.

"Do you wanna tell me, bambino , why the hell your footprints are all along my kitchen ceiling?"

Peter blushes. "I got h-hungry, after patrol last night, I mean, and-and I didn't want to wake you up or anything by accident because it was kinda late--not that late, but still, um, y-yeah."

Tony just stares at him, one finger raised in question.

"So you mean to tell me," The billionaire finally says, his words slow. "That you got home last night from Spider-Manning, got hungry, and decided to walk on the ceiling to not wake me up?"

"Uh, y-yes."

Tony laughs then, a short, bubbly laugh that Peter mimics after a second, both of them starting to crack up. Leaning against the counter for support, Tony finally manages to catch his breath after a second.

"Spider-Baby, what the hell am I gonna do with you, huh?" He gasps out, reaching over and gently brushing a stray curl behind Peter's ear.

The teenager leans into the touch, doe eyes still alight with mirth. "Help me clean the ceiling off?"

Tony snorts this time, grabbing the rag and dunking it into the now filled up bucket, filling the water with soap. Picking up the container by the handle, the superhero holds it out toward his son with a flourish. Peter grabs it, grumbling.

"You make the mess, kiddie, you clean it." Tony says, turning around and beginning to make his way back toward the living room. "Have fun, Pete."

With a sigh, the spiderling carefully surveys the dirty, shoe-print covered ceiling before picking a random corner and making his way over. Gripping the bucket with one hand, he hoasts himself up onto the wall and across the kitchen, using his legs and feet to push off.

He has just started scrubbing, the leftover water on the rag dripping to the tile floor below, when Tony's voice comes through the doorway again.

"Oh yeah, if all of that dirt isn't scrubbed up by dinner time, I'm taking away your XBox and telling Aunt May."

Peter just groans.