Just to let you know I did not write this.
The late evening air is cool around Peter’s face as him and Tony make their way down the cracked sidewalk toward the Tower.
Swinging his arms as he walks, the young Stark shakes the goosebumps from his skin as his blue jacket rises up his side. Gathering the fabric in his overexcited fingers, Peter tries unsuccessfully to zip up the metal teeth for a full minute before giving up, looking over at Tony as they pass under a dim street lamp.
His Dad is in step beside him, dressed in a way too formal suit, his red tie swinging in the breeze. His face is relaxed, strides even and his dark eyes flickering over in Peter’s direction every couple of seconds. The light overhead casts a dull yellow glow against his carefully styled hair as he pauses, Peter having to stumble a few steps back at the abrupt halt.
“You having some trouble there, kiddo?” The genius asks, lips twitching in mirth when Peter shakes his head.
“Nope!” The 10 year old says, popping the ‘p’ and wiping the spit off his chin when it flies from his mouth. “I can do it Dad! I’m a big boy just like Robin! Did you see the way he flew off the roof with Batman and kicked Two-Face’s butt and—and then him and Batman rode off in the Bat-Mobile and. . . “
Peter continues to describe the movie they had just seen in excruciatingly painful detail, fingers twitching together and waving around in his excitement. Tony, finally seeing his chance, grabs onto his son’s jacket and zips it up tight, the young boy not even noticing as he babbles. Grabbing into his father, Peter swings their connected hands back and forth, jumping up every few steps and letting Tony pull him in the air with one arm.
His happy shrieks of laughter echo through the tall buildings around them.
They walk a few more blocks, Tony stopping only once to sign a few respectful fan’s autographs, giving a flashy smile and a witty comment to the ever apologetic parents. Peter just stays back, watching the always shining lights of the New York City skyline get brighter with each passing second. Finally, just after the sun’s last golden rays trickle under the dark horizon, the tall shape of the Stark Tower comes into view.
“Thank God. . .” Tony sighs, giving Peter a smirk when the young boy makes a face. “I was worried we wouldn’t make it back in time for your bedtime.”
Chuckling at the long, drawn out groan his son lets out, the Billionaire reaches over and tugs him against his side, ruffling his hair and ignoring the squeak his boy will definitely deny later. They walk around a tall building, the sounds of heavy machines and deep baritone yells increasing as soon as they round the corner.
A Construction Crew has set up at the last turn before the Tower, their neon vests glowing in the artificial lighting covering the street. One older man, small wisps of gray hair poking out from behind his large ears, looks over at the two Starks as they come closer.
“What’s going on here?” Tony asks, keeping one protective hand on Peter’s shoulder as the construction worker a few feet away pauses with his hammer in the air.
The man lets out a huff, setting down his tool with a clang and lumbering over to them, his dull blue eyes almost hidden beneath his work hat.
