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It started with a media headline.
STEVE ROGERS, CAPTAIN AMERICA: SECRET SON??? [PICTURES INCLUDED]
Tony himself was a proponent for all things that pulled Steve Rogers' leg. In fact, he usually gave secret anonymous donations to the articles that made the best headlines. They were a great form of personal entertainment for him.
So, needless to say, Tony had been delighted by the seemingly juicy headline.
… right until he clicked on the article and saw that said ‘secret son’ was the one and only Peter Parker.
“What the hell ?” Tony choked on his coffee, sputtering as he saw Steve and the kid laughing and eating what looked to be hot dogs outside a small deli cart. Jaw dropping open, he stared at the screen in utter disbelief.
“FRI, these are photoshopped, right?”
“No, Boss,” she said, sounding far too amused for his liking. “These are real photos.”
“Since when does Rogers hang out with the kid ?”
“They have gone on multiple outings together, Boss,” FRIDAY responded.
“ Multiple ?” Tony echoed, aghast.
“Indeed.” The AI was definitely messing with him.
Tony tapped his fingers on the desk. “Who wrote that article, FRI?”
“A freelance journalist named Jane Michaels," FRIDAY replied. "She's known for her sensationalist headlines, and her articles—- primarily about you and the Avengers—- have been gaining traction lately."
Lovely.
“Seriously, it’s like nobody respects journalistic integrity these days,” Tony grumbled.
“Did they ever, Boss?” FRIDAY responded, tone infused with sarcasm so realistic that Tony was almost sure he was listening to a recording of his own voice. Man, he really outdid himself sometimes with his inventions.
“I’m not gracing that with an answer.”
“Of course not,” FRIDAY replied instantly, tone smooth and perfectly innocent aside from the content of her words. Tony glared at the ceiling.
“What’s gotten into you? Is this your teenage rebellion stage? I didn’t program you with that,” he shot back.
“I assure you, Boss, I am functioning exactly as designed,” she chirped. Tony scowled, turning his attention away from the AI and back to the screen with Steve and the kid.
“Where is Rogers now? He and I need to have a little chat .”
—-
“Rogers.” Tony crossed his arms in front of his chest, striding up to the super soldier with all the billionaire-genius-playboy-philanthropist aura he’d gathered throughout his life. “You’re trying to steal my intern,” he accused, in lieu of a greeting.
Steve blinked up at him, looking utterly confused.
Tony wasn’t buying it.
“Uh… what?” Steve asked, ineloquently, but polite all the same. Tony shoved the phone at him instead of answering, crossing his arms over his chest once more.
He wasn’t sure what he expected. Maybe for Rogers to start sputtering in embarrassment like he did when he usually saw the absurd headlines Tony got a kick out of. Instead, Steve read it. He blinked once. Twice. Then laughed. His expression shifted into something Tony could only describe as devious .
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Steve said, mildly. “Pete and I got hot dogs. That’s it.”
“ Pete ?” Tony emphasized, incredulous . “Since when do you use nicknames for people?”
“I call Bucky by nicknames.” Steve pointed out.
“I called the kid ‘Pete’ first,” Tony said, narrowing his eyes. “Stop trying to steal my shtick. Get your own.”
“You don’t own the nickname, Tony,” Steve looked amused as he said it.
“I can own whatever I want, I’m a billionaire,” Tony replied, already running through the legal process in his mind of how he could possibly patent a nickname. He’d have to ask Pepper. These were dire circumstances. He refused to have his own personal intern usurped by someone wearing the carbon polymer equivalent of Uncle Sam’s tighty-whities.
Steve’s mouth twitched, and he looked suspiciously close to laughter. The bastard. “We’re just hanging out,” he said, tone level and unbothered as always.
Tony squinted at him. Waved his phone screen in the air. “That’s not what the media thinks.”
Even as he said it, he knew it was a ridiculous statement— especially coming out of his mouth. The media thought a lot of things, and almost all of them were wrong at any given point in time. He wasn’t sure why this particular headline was annoying him so much. Probably because it wasn’t even scientifically possible. Rogers had been frozen in the ocean until Peter was at least a toddler. People were seriously lacking in common sense these days.
Yeah, that was probably the reason.
Steve looked at him with an arched eyebrow. Tony sniffed. “It’s bad for PR,” he excused easily. “Pep would kill me if there was some kind of paternity Avengers scandal we had to diffuse.”
“You know, I thought it was considered good press to be seen hanging out with kids,” Steve commented mildly.
Tony’s scowl grew. He refused to admit that Steve was right. “They mean to go to a children’s hospital dressed in your American flag getup and hand out teddy bears. Not steal your coworker’s protégé and pose as his father.”
“I didn’t pose as anything,” Steve said, still sounding too amused for his liking, getting up to move past Tony on his way to his quarters. He patted Tony on the shoulder as he passed. “It was just hot dogs. Give it a few days and they’ll forget about it.”
—
The headlines only multiplied in the next week.
Rhodey didn’t seem to be taking Tony’s plight seriously.
“It’s absurd, Rhodey, he doesn’t even look like Rogers! I mean, do people have no comprehension of how genetics work these days? Not to mention the whole freezing thing! I can excuse conspiracy theories when they’re intelligent, but I’ve heard better theories come out of Justin Hammer’s mouth, and that’s seriously saying something—“
“I’m sure it’ll blow over soon,” Rhodey interrupted the rant, in what sounded like a placating tone. Tony was hardly listening, tapping his chin thoughtfully.
“I mean, I’d understand if they thought he was my kid, from the playboy days and the brown hair, brown eyes, genius, yada yada. They’d have some actual potential reasoning to back that up. But Steve ? That is just downright insulting. To me. By association.” As if he’d ever hang out willingly with a mini-Rogers.
Rhodey arched a disbelieving eyebrow. “Uh huh,” he said, tone completely flat and dry. “You should go out there and tell them that,” he continued. Tony was pretty sure the tone was sarcastic, but hey— that was actually a pretty good idea. He’d get way more press coverage on that than Rogers already had with his hot dog stint.
Tony snapped his fingers and pointed at his best friend, delightedly. Rhodey looked like he regretted ever opening his mouth (an expression he often wore around Tony).
“Fantastic idea, sour patch. I’m doing it.” He was a far more believable candidate than Rogers was, purely in terms of physical appearance and backstory.
Tony Stark did not get outdone by Steve Rogers.
“Tony, no—” Rhodey immediately protested, putting his hands up to halt him. “You can’t just go create a PR disaster because you want to one-up Captain America.”
“Consider it a public service,” Tony said, faux-cheerily. “We both know I’ve done worse.”
“Not as it involves Peter.” Rhodey gave him a meaningful look, and it caused Tony to pause. Unfortunately, that much was true. Ugh. There went his plans.
Rhodey sighed at that, long and drawn-out. “Since when do you even care what the media thinks?” he asked, in a tone of special exasperation reserved solely for his best friend of several decades.
“He’s stealing my spotlight, Rhodey,” Tony scowled. “You know I hate when that happens.”
He wasn’t jealous. Tony Stark did not get jealous . Especially not of Steve Rogers. He was the actual mentor here. The media didn’t know shit. He was annoyed, that was all.
Besides, he was overdue for another PR scandal. It had already been a week since the last.
“So, what?” Rhodey asked, tone flat. “You’d rather the media assume you’re the kid’s dad?”
Tony squinted. The way Rhodey said it sounded like a trick question. When he didn’t immediately respond, Rhodey’s face flitted through a surprisingly complex number of emotions in the span of a few seconds.
“Oh my god, you would ,” Rhodey groaned, dropping his head in his hands and muttering what sounded suspiciously like ‘I don’t know why I expected any differently’ under his breath. Tony shot him a halfhearted glare.
“Instead of Rogers ?” Tony emphasized, waving a hand. “I found the kid. I recruited him. I built him a multi-million dollar suit. I’m the one who got chewed out by the kid’s aunt. But Rogers gets the credit?” he asked, affronted.
“Credit for what , Tones?” Rhodey asked wryly. “Do you even hear yourself right now? The media headline assumed that Steve was Peter’s father, not mentor or billionaire sponsor or whatever it is you call yourself. Whether it said you or Steve, either way it would be wrong.” His face twisted into an unreadable expression. “Well, biologically,” he amended, under his breath.
Tony opened his mouth. Closed it. Squinted at Rhodey. “What did you just say?” His brain caught up to the statement. “What the hell do you mean, biologically ?”
“Tony,” Rhodey said in a tired tone, pinching his brow. “This is the same way you acted when Dum-E liked your college girlfriend more than you. You know, the one you broke up with because— in your words— you couldn’t stand to be ‘the less favored parent. ’”
“That’s different,” Tony scowled. “I built Dum-E. He’s supposed to like me best. It’s in his programming.” The kid didn’t technically owe him anything, Tony supposed. If Peter wanted to spend his free time with Rogers instead of him, then that was his right. The thought of it left an annoying bitter taste in his mouth.
Rhodey shot him a look somewhere between fond, exasperated, and painfully annoyed. “Tones, have you ever even tried asking the kid to go out somewhere?”
Tony furrowed his eyebrows, about to retort ‘yes, of course,’ but then paused. Had he? He and Peter spent plenty of time in the lab, and sometimes Tony got bored and crashed the kid’s patrol, but he supposed… no, he hadn’t ever invited him out somewhere outside of the Tower. Hm.
He didn’t say anything, but the answer must have been clear on his face because Rhodey let out a short laugh and patted Tony on the shoulder as he passed by. “Ask him to go out for ice cream or something, man. I’d bet you my entire life savings that he’d say yes.”
Rhodey was gone before Tony even had the chance to respond with something along the lines of ‘I’m pretty sure that counts as indentured servitude, honey bear.’ He spun in his chair and tilted his head to look at the ceiling.
Ice cream. That was… manageable. He could do that. It was a little more domestic than he usually went for, but Rhodey usually knew more than he did when it came to interacting with kids. (Not that he’d ever admit such a thing.) Besides, kids loved sugar. It seemed like a surefire way to solidify him as Peter’s favorite, rather than Rogers. Ice cream was way better than hot dogs.
“Hey FRI, where’s the kid at now?”
—-
When Tony found Peter, the teenager was with Steve. Again . Sparring this time, in the gym. He opened his mouth to call out and interrupt them, but closed it again and watched as Peter fluidly dodged and… flipped Steve clean over.
Huh. Since when could the kid do that ?
Before he could question it aloud, the teenager caught sight of him standing by the doorway with his hands shoved into his pockets.
"Hey, Mr. Stark! Did you see that?” Peter asked breathlessly as he waved his hand excitedly in greeting. Tony didn’t have time to answer before Steve gave his own smile and stood up from the floor.
“You’ve gotten better at that,” he praised, and Peter seemed to light up even more. Before Tony could even begin to feel insulted at being ignored, Peter turned to him again, grinning ear to ear.
“I can flip over Captain America.”
"Impressive," Tony drawled, pushing off the doorframe and strolling into the gym. It was impressive, but he didn’t come in here to talk about Steve Rogers. "But let's talk priorities. How do you feel about ice cream?"
Peter blinked, confused by the non-sequitur. "Ice cream?" he asked, still slightly out of breath but rapidly recovering.
"Yeah, you know— cold, sweet, comes in different flavors.” Tony’s tone was arid as he elaborated. Peter squinted at him.
“You want… my opinions on ice cream?” he asked, slowly. Tony clicked his tongue and scoffed.
“No, I already know your opinions on it.” He gestured in between the two of them with a lazy finger. “I meant right now. Ice cream. You and I.”
Peter blinked. “You’re asking if I want to go get ice cream with you?” he clarified, and it sounded a little incredulous. Tony sniffed.
“You going to give me an answer or just keep repeating everything I said?” he all but snapped.
Peter rocked back and forth on his heels and grinned. “As if I’d ever say no to ice cream.” His tone was cheerful, unbothered by Tony’s outward show of annoyance. (Huh. Looked like Rhodey got to keep his life savings.)
Tony sniffed slightly, reluctant to admit—even to himself—that he relaxed at Peter’s automatic agreement— shooing the kid in the direction of the adjoining locker rooms instead.
“Go change first, I do not need teenage sweat permeating my Audi's leather seats.” That was a lie— his car seats had seen far worse than some sweat, but he needed something to say, and it made the kid scurry off.
Leaving him with Steve.
“It isn’t a competition, you know,” Steve said after a moment, looking amused despite himself.
“Of course not,” Tony agreed haughtily, stuffing his hands into his pockets and slouching in a show of casual disdain. “Can’t be a competition if there’s already an obvious winner. Me, to be clear.” He refused not to be the kid’s favorite. He was not going to lose this battle to Captain America.
Steve made a sound that could probably pass as assent, squinting at him slightly. “The media is still on the kid thing, aren’t they?”
Tony brought his phone out and tapped the screen a few times in lieu of a response.
“Apparently, the word is now that you adopted him. Mazel tov, by the way.” Tony said flippantly, tilting the screen to show him the new headline that had popped up two days ago. [CAPTAIN AMERICA ADOPTS TEENAGER]. Steve huffed out a laugh.
“They’re still on that?” he asked again, a little disbelievingly.
Tony shrugged. “Well, they’ve mostly moved onto juicier theories. Adoption is hardly interesting. Some think SHIELD hid you from the public for years, and that he’s your biological kid. Others think Peter is a clone. Or that both of you are clones.” (The clone theories, at least, were amusing in their absurdity.)
Steve opened his mouth to respond, but before he had the chance, Peter hurried back into the room, hair soaked as if he’d shoved his entire head under a sink faucet and clothes rumpled like he hadn’t taken the time to smooth out the fabric.
Tony wrinkled his nose and snagged a nearby towel from one of the gym racks, chucking it at the kid’s head. Peter grabbed it out of the air without even looking and used it to vigorously scrub his hair into a semi-dry state. Tony eyed the slight puddle of water on the floor that had dripped from the kid’s hair with distaste.
“You know, I usually hire people to mop the floor. I see you’re diversifying your skill set,” he commented.
Peter looked down at the water by his feet, rubbing his hair one last time with the towel before dropping it to the floor and wiping it up with one quick motion. He then chucked the towel with perfect accuracy into the dirty towel bin on the opposite corner of the gym, and grinned over at Tony.
“Sorry, Mr. Stark,” he said, not sounding sorry at all, before lighting up. “Hey, do I get paid for that, then?”
“No,” Tony responded flatly.
“Darn,” Peter sighed. “Worth a shot.”
Tony rolled his eyes and strolled over to the teenager, putting a hand on his shoulder and starting to guide him out of the room. “Ice cream now, before you say something else that’ll make me change my mind.”
“You can’t take back the promise of ice cream, Mr. Stark, that’s just cruel and unusual punishment.”
“Consider it a lesson in managing expectations, Mr. Parker,” Tony responded wryly, even as he was still leading Peter out of the room. The teenager huffed at that, before half-turning around in Tony’s grip to say goodbye to Steve.
“Bye! Thanks for the sparring session!” he called with a wave, and Steve waved back with a smile and goodbye in turn.
“We’ll bring you back some butter pecan, I know it’s your favorite,” Tony called out over his shoulder, instead of his own goodbye. Peter wrinkled his nose slightly.
“Butter pecan ice cream?” he started. “That’s an old—”
“—old person flavor, I know,” Tony interrupted with a grin. Peter squinted at him.
“Is that actually his favorite flavor, or are you just making fun of him?” he asked suspiciously, sounding equal parts delighted and amused.
Tony grinned wider. “Wouldn’t know. I just got it the first time around, and he’s never protested or tried to correct me.”
Peter snorted. “Wait, what would you assume was my favorite ice cream flavor?” Peter asked, curiosity getting the better of him, and Tony shot him a side eye. Usually he didn’t grace such questions with an answer, because there was no right answer and he didn’t make a habit of setting himself up for such easy failure, but supposed he could humor the teenager.
“Mint chocolate chip,” Tony guessed after a moment— because knowing the kid, it was probably either the most common ice cream flavor he could think of, or some obscure limited edition flavor that had only existed for three months when he was ten years old.
He immediately regretted the attempt.
“Spiders are allergic to mint, Mr. Stark, are you trying to murder me? Is that what this is right now? A murder scheme?”
“Kid, if I were trying to murder you I would not do it via ice cream—”
“You didn’t deny it! This is totally a murder scheme.”
“Just get in the damn car, Parker.”
—-
They acquired their ice cream quickly, though Tony insisted on them sitting outside the car to eat it. He didn’t trust teenagers and melty ice cream on his leather car seats (nor did he particularly trust himself, if he were being perfectly honest.)
“So, how do you feel about the fact that Spangles is allegedly your father now?” Tony inquired, in a perfectly casual tone (if he did say so himself).
Peter—like Steve earlier— didn’t get flustered or embarrassed as Tony would have expected from the headline. Nor did he ask what Tony was talking about (which made sense, considering how much time he spent on the internet; he was bound to have seen it.) Instead, he grinned.
“I mean, what other teenager can claim that Captain America is apparently their dad?” Peter asked cheekily, with a simple shrug, shoving a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth.
Tony scoffed. “Please. Captain America would be an uncool parent. He’d be all about ‘being home by 10 PM’ and eating three healthy meals a day and turning your homework in on time and responsibility and all that—” he waved a hand in the air aimlessly. “Bullshit.”
Peter looked like he was trying to hold back a laugh, covering it behind a cough. “Mr. Stark, you and May co-conspired to set me a curfew for Spider-Man,” he pointed out. Tony paused. Right. He’d forgotten about that. Peter wasn’t done. “And you feed me every time I come into the lab. And I’m like 95% sure you and May have both asked me about my homework.”
Alright, maybe Tony hadn’t exactly thought this through.
“Are you calling me uncool right now, Mr. Parker?” he asked, incredulously, and Peter did laugh at that.
“Never,” he said, but the expression on his face told a completely different story.
"Didn't you used to be far more polite?" Tony grumbled. “You should bring the gawking back.”
“I am polite,” Peter responded indignantly. “I stopped the gawking when I watched you set your shirt on fire.”
Tony shot him a half-hearted glare at the reminder of that unfortunate incident. “I told you not to bring that up again.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Peter waved it off, not looking afraid in the slightest. “So what’s the ice cream for? I haven’t even had any near death experiences lately.”
“What, can’t a mentor spend some time with his mentee?” Tony sniffed, airily.
Peter arched a disbelieving eyebrow in his direction. “I’m all for free ice cream, Mr. Stark, but you don’t usually do the whole—” he stopped mid-gesture, mouth dropping open. “Oh my god, you’re doing this because of the father headline thing. You’re jealous .”
“I am not,” Tony responded flatly. Peter ignored him.
“You so are, Mr. Stark,” he said gleefully. “You know what that means, right?”
Tony narrowed his eyes at him, distinctly feeling like whatever was next about to come out of the teenager’s mouth would take 12 years off his predicted life span.
“Now I get to claim that both Iron Man and Captain America are my parents,” Peter said, with a wide, cheeky grin. Tony’s face twisted in an expression akin to disgust at the implications.
“Put that thought into my head again and I’m taking back the suit,” he threatened. Peter wasn’t listening.
“One time, there was, like, this huge debate online a few years ago about whether people would choose Team Iron Man or Team Captain America if the team ever split, and Ned and I were Team Iron Man—obviously— but made a whole spreadsheet to figure out who got which Avenger. Like, would Black Widow go with you or Cap? We could never figure it out.”
Tony blinked. There was far too much information in there for him to even begin to attempt to sift through. (Also, that was a good question. Which side would Romanoff choose?)
“But don’t worry, Mr. Stark,” Peter assured him, and he was grinning widely. “I’d still pick you in the divorce.”
Tony dropped his head in his hand and rubbed his temple, tossing his empty ice cream cup into a nearby trash can. “You’re enjoying this,” he accused, voice muffled.
“Yep,” Peter agreed, unashamedly and all-too-cheerful. “Hey, which one of you would be Mom vs Dad?” he mused, tapping his chin. Before Tony could decide whether to grace that with an answer, he spotted several people with cameras pointed in their direction.
Easily, he slung an arm over Peter’s shoulders, sliding a pair of sunglasses up the bridge of his nose and grinning rakishly. “Smile, kid, you’re about to make your second headline of the week.”
Peter obediently grinned in his direction— though with an expression that told Tony he was about to say something like a smartass. “People are gonna be debating over shared custody next,” he mused, and Tony choked on a surprised laugh. “You get weekdays, Cap gets weekends.”
Tony snorted. “As long as I get more days than Rogers.”
Peter laughed, but his words were genuine. “Of course, Mr. Stark. I told you I’d pick your side.”
Tony wasn’t sure why the words finally caused warmth to settle fully in his chest, but it did all the same.
—
“I’m the kid’s favorite, just so you know. Got verbal confirmation. I win the competition.” Tony greeted Steve airily, when they made their way back to the Tower. Steve looked up, eyebrows arched.
“I don’t suppose saying that it was never a competition would change much,” he responded wryly. Tony pointed a finger in his direction.
“Nope. Those are the words of a sore loser.” He paused thoughtfully. “You still don’t get a free pass on calling the kid ‘Pete’, though, try some originality for once—”
Steve laughed, interrupting him. “Tony, you know I was just doing that to mess with you, right?”
“You what ?”
Tony knew by now that Peter had been fueling it on purpose, because he was a little shit and spent too much time on the internet— but Steve Rogers?
Steve’s mouth twitched in amusement. “At first I was just poking fun at you with the nickname thing,” he shrugged. “Then Peter heard about it and thought it was funny, so we kept doing it.”
Tony stared at him. Steve Rogers was a devious man. He had the whole country fooled. He was a living, breathing symbol of the successful reign of American propaganda.
As it was, Tony just brought a hand up to the bridge of his nose and pinched it, closing his eyes and letting out a long, drawn-out sigh.
“If you pull something like that again I’m telling FRIDAY to override all of your playlist requests with ‘The Best of the 1940s.’” he threatened, voice partially muffled by his hand. Steve let out a huff of a laugh, but didn’t seem to take the threat seriously. Tony would have to rectify that.
He moved his hand down to rub at his goatee as another thought occurred to him. “Speaking of which, though, the media are going to have a field day with the headlines after today,” Tony mused.
Steve waved a hand. “I’m sure they can’t be that bad.”
—
The next morning, a new headline dominated the front pages:
UPDATE: IRON MAN AND CAPTAIN AMERICA LOVE CHILD????? [WITH PHOTOS]
See inside: A bitter divorce and custody battle!! [Written by: Jane Michaels]
Tony and Steve both looked at the headline with something akin to horror. There were triple the amount of papers there had been previously, and almost every single news outlet talking about it in some regard. (Maybe Tony had underestimated how tightly the media would grip onto this.)
“This is never going away, is it?” Steve asked mournfully.
Tony, for once, was inclined to agree with him—- shaking his head slowly and internally preparing himself to be murdered by Pepper for the resulting PR disaster.
Peter just grinned, like the little shit he was, and set the screenshot as his new wallpaper.
—-
New Message: To: MJ
Peter: [screenshot] Jane Michaels? I feel like you could have picked a better pseudonym.
MJ: I have no idea what you’re talking about.
Peter: MJ, come on, I’d know your writing style anywhere. I wasn’t positive from the first article, but the one you released yesterday made me sure.
Peter: Didn’t peg you as the sensationalist news type.
MJ: Oh, I’m not. Hence the pseudonym. It’s just an enjoyable side hobby of mine to annoy your billionaire mentor and incite general chaos.
MJ: Did it work?
Peter grinned at his phone screen.
Peter: Oh, you have no idea.