irondad & spiderson oneshots

lxx. my son

Okay this is a request from LittleMissBrokeIt from like four months ago (sorry-) when my pfp was the pic at the bottom (don't look yet you hooligans, it will spoil the story so just don't)

"What the hell do you mean, you quit? You can't just quit!" Tony exclaimed.

"Actually Mr. Stark, I can. I can't keep up with that child of yours! He practically has super speed!"

"He's a kid, Ms. Hipher! Nannies are supposed to be able to handle the child they're nannying!" Tony snapped back, growing furious as he does down the road.

"Well I'm not nannying him anymore, so I don't have to handle him!"

"Listen here, you-"

The nanny hung up. "God- fuck!" Tony yelled, slamming his hand on the wheel.

What kind of person just left a six year old to roam around a penthouse by their self?

Sure Jarvis was watching him, but Peter was smart, almost as smart as Tony, even at such a young age.

Finally making it to the tower, the billionaire bolted to the elevator. "Up, Fri!" He snapped impatiently.

Friday did so, quickly and silently, choosing not to aggravate her boss any more than he already was.

Tony rushed onto his floor as soon as the elevator stopped, only to freeze in shock.

Peter. . . wasn't doing anything wrong. He was sitting on the couch and staring at the blank TV screen.

"Pete?" Tony asked slowly.

"Dadda!" Peter screamed, leaping off the couch and barreling into the man's legs.

Tony stumbled for a second, but quickly regained his balance and wrapped an arm around his young son.

"Hey buddy, look, you've gotta come with me, okay?" He said, crouching down.

Peter frowned, crawling into his father's lap, simultaneously knocking his father onto his bottom.

"How come, daddy?" The six year old asked, wide doe-eyes staring up into matching brown ones.

"Well, because Ms. Hipher quit, and I have to go to a super important gala, but I can't leave you alone." He explained.

Peter's frown deepened and his eyes shined with tears. "Does Ms. Hipher not like me?" He questioned quietly.

"No, no, of course she loves you, Petey! She's just old and cranky and doesn't like chasing around fun, energetic kiddos." Tony soothed.

Peter tilted his head. "She was mean."

Tony snorted. "I know bud. Now, let's go get you changed."

Peter frowned again as his father stood up, adjusting him onto his hip. "Why I gotta change?" He asked.

"Because." Tony responded, walking toward the young boy's room.

Peter lied his head on his father's shoulder. "Don't I look good?" He questioned.

"Well of course. But do you want to match daddy?" Tony teased.

Peter gasped. "Yes, yes, yes!"

||

Tony narrowed his eyes as he looked over his little boy. "Something's missing." He mumbled quietly.

Then he smiled, grabbing a pair of sunglasses and sliding them onto his son's face. "Perfect!" He exclaimed.

Peter giggled and sprinted over toward the mirror with a smile. "I look like you, dadda!" He cried, looking over at Tony.

The billionaire smiled warmly. "You do. Now let's get out of here buddy."

Peter smiled and reached up with grabby hands.

||

Tony stepped out of his car with narrowed eyes. How would this work? As he opened the back door for Peter, he saw his boy struggling with his seatbelt.

A grin tugged on his lips as he saw Peter's tongue sticking out of his mouth in concentration.

"Need help, Petey?" Tony questioned in amusement.

"No. I got it." Peter said firmly.

Tony leaned against the car with his arms crossed as he waited for his son to get himself out of his car seat.

As he stood there, he thought of how he would keep track of Peter. He couldn't just hold his hand. What if someone ran by and nabbed his baby because he'd only been holding his hand?

He definitely couldn't just sit him somewhere and look over every few minutes. That was so dangerous.

Maybe. . . Yep. He's carrying him. "I did it Dadda!" Peter exclaimed, jumping out of the car.

Tony immediately scooped him up and propped him on his hip. Peter smirked, happy he was getting his way.

He absolutely loved it when his dadda carried him.

Tony walked inside with a small smirk, unaware that his son was imitating the look.

"Mr. Stark! Mr. Stark!"

"Who is he?"

"Who's the boy?"

"Is this a publicity stunt?"

"Is he related to you?"

Tony stood before the crowd with a grin. "This," he started. "Is my son."