A/N: This adorable little ficlet is dedicated to the wonderful @irondad_is_real_i.promise on Instagram, both for the idea and just because they are an amazing artist and writer and friend.
POCKET I FUCKING LOVE YOU SO MUCH ❤️💙❤️💙
Anyways, I hope yall enjoy and please don't hesitate to let me know what you think! 🥰
PS: Peter is Tony's biological son in this fanfic and is only 8-years-old.
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"Hi, buddy." Tony says, helping Peter into the backseat. He grabs his son's backpack, setting it on the floor before carefully buckling the young Stark into his booster seat. "Did you have a good day at school?"
Peter, instead of nodding and rambling happily away, stays silent, his mouth pulled in a small pout. Tony feels a frown of his own build up, and he reaches out, brushing back Peter's curls before resting his palm against the boy's forehead.
"You feeling okay, bug?" The billionaire asks, moving his hand down to cup Peter's soft cheek when all he does is nod. "Does your tummy hurt?"
"No, Daddy, just wanna go home." Peter mumbles, one small hand coming up to rub at his eyes.
Tony feels a hot spike of worry shoot through his chest but doesn't push it, just brushes the 8-year-old's curls back again with a sigh. Getting into the driver's seat, Tony glances back at Peter one last time before they pull out of the school's parking lot, eyeing his son's drawn baby-face with concern, before focusing on the road.
They'd barely made it a few streets over, stopping at a stoplight, when Tony catches the unmistakable sound of Peter crying.
Whipping around, the genius feels his heart break at the muffled sobs Peter's attempting to hide, his son's little hands digging into his eyes. Quickly merging into the turning lane, Tony pulls over into a gas station, ignoring the annoyed honk from the car behind them.
Tony, hands shaking, parks the car before immediately turning back around, practically crawling across the center console to reach his son.
"Hey, hey, baby." Tony coos, drawing the still crying boy into his arms. Peter hiccups, his little shoulders shaking. "What's wrong, Petey? Huh? Can you tell Daddy what's wrong?"
"N-No!" Peter says, turning quickly away when Tony attempts to cup his face again, doe eyes screwed shut. "Don't wanna, you'll-you'll be mad."
Tony swallows. "I won't be mad, kiddo. Promise. Did you get a bad grade?"
Peter shakes his head, his red-tinged face still turned stubbornly away. Tony bites down a harsh sigh, shifting as the leather headrest digs into his shoulder. Finally, the billionaire says fuck it and scoots fully into the backseat, sinking with his legs stretched out beside him.
Peter, his wide eyes glassy with tears, finally turns back and watches his father, not meeting Tony's gaze when the man reaches out again. He doesn't pull away, however and Tony calls that progress.
"Did someone say something mean?"
This time, Peter shrugs, reaching up and bites at the skin around his thumb. Tony frowns, instinctively grabbing at his son's hand and pulling it away from his mouth. He holds it instead, rubbing his own thumb across the soft skin of Peter's knuckles.
"Okay, um, did another kid say something mean?"
Peter shakes his head again and Tony feels his heart drop. Pressing a sweet kiss against his son's hand, the genius attempts to get the rage he can feel slowly filling his chest down to a simmer, gritting his teeth before speaking.
"Did-Did an adult say something mean, bambino ?"
And when Peter, his big brown eyes filled with tears, his button nose red from his cries, finally looks toward him and nods yes, Tony doesn't know how he manages to keep from literally snarling.
"Can you--" He asks once he knows he can speak without breathing fire. "Can you tell Daddy what they said, bubba?"
"I-I wanted to be the fairy princess, Daddy. In the play at the big boy library."
Tony vaguely remembers Peter telling him a few weeks ago about a kiddie play the school was setting up, his son's 3rd grade class getting to be some of the leads. Nodding for Peter to continue, Tony tries to keep his rage from showing on his face, just picturing what prick-headed teacher he's going to have to punch.
"But Mr. Jefferson said that I couldn't be the pretty pink fairy." Peter pauses to sob, his little face screwing up in tears again and Tony shushes him, reaching out to carefully pull his son against his chest. "Because I'm a boy and boy's can't be pretty pink fairies."
Tony brushes Peter's hair back, waiting until the 8-year-old calms down. Finally, Peter's cries turn into wet hiccups and the billionaire reaches down, cupping Peter's chin and raising his son's face up from his chest.
"Never repeat what I'm about to say, but that's bullshit." Peter giggles, and Tony smiles softly, wiping away the last of the little boy's tears with his thumb. Peter leans into the touch and Tony feels his heart melt. "You can be whatever you want to be, peanut. And if that means being a pretty purple fairy or whatever, don't let anyone stop you."
Peter nods, his big brown eyes so trusting and filled with love that Tony has to blink back tears of his own.
"You okay now, buddy?" Tony asks after a second.
"Mhm." Peter says, kicking his legs. His red and blue sneakers light up, reflecting his eyes as he gazes up at his dad. "M'Kay now, Daddy."
Pressing one final kiss against his son's temple, Tony releases him, clambering his way back up into the driver's seat. Buckling back up himself, the billionaire glances around at the thankfully empty parking lot before setting off back in the direction of Peter's elementary school, feeling his past rage mount up to its full height.
Mr. Jefferson, was it? Tony thinks with a sharp grin. I just can't wait to have a little chat with you.
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"And now we have Mr. Jefferson's -- oh, excuse me, I mean, Mrs. Kennily's -- third grade class performing The Dance Of The Pink Fairies. "
Shifting in the hard plastic chair, Tony claps loudly along with the rest of the parents in the gym, holding his video camera with his other hand.
Next to him, the rest of the Avengers sit, cheering just as loudly. The billionaire can see, when he glances over, the proud grins lighting up his team's faces and Tony feels the arc reactor buzz in response, his chest warm.
They all eventually quiet down, Clint letting out one last whoop that has Natasha smacking the back of his head, before the lights on the stage rise into existence, bathing the gym floor in a flood of soft gold.
Peter's classmates, each dressed up as a mix of little woodland animals, trees and mystical creatures, all parade out as one, finding their places on the stage.
And finally, his face lit up in a huge grin of delight, bounds out Peter.
His pink tutu is just a bit too big, his little sparkly pink fairy wings bouncing along with him as he skips out to his own place on the stage, near the very center. His plastic tiara shimmers in the lights above, his smile just as bright, waving around his fairy wand in a pattern that's clearly supposed to cast a spell.
"And to-to all the magical creatures, I say, uh, come alive!" Peter says, stumbling over his words for only a second before he raises his arms above his head.
The lights above flicker, the scenery behind the student's shifting, becoming something new and cartoony. Peter, his sparking eyes suddenly finding Tony's in the crowd, grins even wider at the whoop of encouragement the man lets out.
Tony, his face splitting into a bright smile of his own, ignores the looks the other parents shoot him, the rest of his team letting out their own cheers after a second. Peter bounds to the other side of the stage, his little tutu nearly slipping off and Tony lets out a fond chuckle, keeping his video camera focused on his son even as the rest of the kids start their own dances.
Because how happy Peter looks, how adorable his fairy outfit is and how proud Tony is of him is something that the billionaire will always want to cherish.
Forever.
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A/N: Thank you for reading! 💖💖💖