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It wasn’t the first time Peter had stayed at Tony’s penthouse overnight, but it was the first time on a school night. He’d come over the night before with a few bruised ribs and a dislocated shoulder and Tony had insisted he stay. Peter hadn’t complained, just shuffled off to bed looking exhausted.
“What time does Peter get up for school, FRI?” Tony asked as he climbs into bed himself.
“He requested I wake him at 7 AM.”
Tony groaned. “That is so early. Fine, get me up at the same time.”
Sure enough, his surprisingly restful sleep was interrupted by FRIDAY informing him that Peter was awake and starting to get ready for school.
Tony tumbled, half-asleep, out of bed and to the kitchen, not bothering to change from his pajamas.
The stuff he did for this kid.
After starting the coffee machine, and staring into the cabinets for nearly three minutes while he dozed on his feet, Tony started making French toast and scrambled eggs. He had a large stack already done by the time Peter came out, his hair damp from his shower, pulling on his socks.
“Morning,” Tony croaked. Peter stopped in the doorway, looking surprised.
“Good morning,” he said slowly. “Did… did you make me breakfast?”
“Yeah. You need to eat.”
“I could have had cereal,” Peter pointed out, taking a seat at the island. There was a small, half-smile curving one side of his mouth, like he couldn’t decide if he thought this was funny or sweet.
“Nutritious food is necessary for fast healing. Come on, eat up,” Tony said, sliding a full plate in front of Peter.
Peter stared at it, then looked up at Tony. “Thank you,” he said softly. Tony waved him off, pouring himself a cup of coffee.
Peter dug in to the food, making sure to compliment Tony as he did. That boy and his impeccable manners.
Tony still wasn’t awake by the time Happy showed up to drive Peter to school. He wouldn’t be until he’d had at least one more mug of coffee.
He blamed that for what he did next.
Peter was bent over his plate, shoving his last bite of eggs into his mouth.
“Come on, kid, we’re going to be late,” Happy said, looking at his watch.
“Coming,” Peter said, his mouth still half-full. He grabbed his plate as if to take it to the sink, but Tony stepped forward.
“I’ve got this, you go. Have a good day at school, bud,” he said, and then, without thinking or even being fully aware of his actions, he trapped Peter’s head with one hand and kissed him on the forehead.
Literally the second his lips made contact with Peter’s skin he was internally screaming WHAT. THE. HECK. ARE. YOU. DOING. But there was no way of making it so that didn’t just happen. So he just pretended like that wasn’t super weird and possibly creepy and Happy wasn’t watching with his jaw dropped and Peter hadn’t frozen like a deer in the headlights. He grabbed Peter’s plate, taking it to the sink to rinse off.
“Um. Thanks?” He heard Peter say behind him, but he was purposefully engrossed in washing a bit of syrup off the kid’s plate and didn’t turn around, opting instead to call a nonchalant “Bye” over his shoulder.
He waited a minute after the door closed.
“Are they gone?” he asked FRIDAY.
“Yes, boss.” She sounded amused and Tony pursed his lips. He really was too smart for his own good.
“Tell me that didn’t just happen,” he groaned, bending over so he could drop his head against the counter.
“If you’re referring to you kissing Peter on the head like a soccer dad, that did, in fact, happen.”
“What? Who even taught you that phrase?” Tony knew it was dumb, but he looked up at the ceiling, toward the nearest camera, in indignation.
“Colonel Rhodes,” FRIDAY said matter-of-factly.
“Betrayal,” Tony hissed. He sighed, picking up his mug of coffee and heading for the lab. “And I bet Happy’s going to text everyone about it, too. He’s such a gossip.”
“You already have three messages from Colonel Rhodes,” FRIDAY informed him. “The first one is a series of eight ‘laughing crying’ emojis, the second reads ‘If you’d told me you’d had a baby I would have brought a present,’ and the third reads ‘When do I get to meet my nephew?’ with another laughing emoji.”
“Right,” Tony deadpanned. “Thanks, FRI. I really appreciate the sympathy for my mortification. I will never be able to face Peter again,” he sighed, rubbing his temples.
“You also have a text from Peter, boss.”
“What? Read it,” Tony snapped, his stomach twisting in anticipation of Peter telling him he never wants to see him again.
“It says ‘Thanks for breakfast, Mr. Stark,’ followed by a red heart, a blue heart, a stack of pancakes, a plate with utensils, a smiling sun, a—”
“Yeah, ok, that’s plenty. Kid uses way too many emojis,” Tony pretended to complain, not bothering to hide his smile. No one would see it, anyway.