Almost A Little Too Late - A Little!Peter Parker Story

Just A Little Paper Cut

A/N: Hi hi y'all! I know it's been a few months since I've written for IronDad but I've slowly been chipping away at this Little!Peter & Caregiver!Tony fanfic for a while and I finally found the time and motivation to finish it LMAO I hope you all enjoy! If you have any questions about the Verse or want more of it, please don't hesitate to let me know, this was such a fun fanfic to write! 💖🥰

A NOTE: This fic is PURLY 100% PLATONIC 👏🏻 Meaning that no part of it should be seen or interoperated as kink, slash or St*rker. Any gross and/or rude comments will be deleted and you will be blocked. Thank you.

Peter's Little-Age is 5-years-old, while his normal/Big-Age is 15-years-old.

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Peter's been teetering on the edge of his Little side since he blinked awake this morning.

Sitting up in bed, the spiderling's eyes had widened at the familiar press of his thumb in his mouth, his normal pacifier sitting on his nightstand a short ways away. Hesitantly, Peter had removed his finger, a whimper rising in his throat that he'd hastily shoved aside. He can't regress today, can't let his Little side win because he has to go to school, has to ace his Physics exam and hopefully seal his spot as co-captain of the decathlon team next year.

Not to mention the Spider-man suit that's still hanging, untouched for the past few days, behind his door.

So, Peter had pushed through, had forced himself to get up — like a big boy — and get dressed, brush his teeth, comb his hair. All the while, he could feel his regression rear up; the urge to suck his thumb, sob when the buttons of his jeans wouldn't connect, smear toothpaste along the mirror because Peter loves to color and maybe Daddy would color with him today after school cause that would be so fun and—

Safe to say, it was an exhausting morning.

May had, thankfully, left for work a little earlier than normal, a sticky note in her neat scrawl stuck to the fridge, reminding Peter to eat breakfast and to text either her or Tony if he needs anything. The sight of the cute little smiley-face — one of the only art pieces May apparently perfected — had nearly been enough to send the boy over the edge completely and he'd reluctantly crumpled it despite the guilt that had jabbed his heart.

Grabbing a poptart from the panty, Peter had sat down at the kitchen table, trying to ignore how difficult it was, to get into the chair by himself. His high-chair, the one with the little stars and turtles, sits tantalizingly close in the corner and the boy forces himself to glance away from it, feeling the ache in his chest grow.

His phone had dinged then, and Peter carefully pulled it from his pocket, not even bothering to wipe the crumbs from his mouth and hands. Tapping at the screen, the boy squints, a grin a mile wide forming at the glow of Tony's name across the screen.

Morning, buddy. The text says, the blue arc reactor heart getting smudged with strawberry filling as Peter ghosts his finger over it, a happy babble exploding from him before the Little could stop it. You still swinging over here after school right? Movie night and all that?

Swallowing, Peter forces his hands to move, to type out what he hopes is an age-appropriate response and not a complete giveaway to his father-figure just how close he really is to regressing into his Little headspace. Sure sounds good, we can watch disney movies!

There's a split second of hesitation between Peter's text and Tony's and the Little feels his heart start to crawl up his throat, praying with everything in him for his dad to fall for the ruse, at least long enough for Peter to finish the school day. Tony, thankfully, sends back a single thumbs up and an arc reactor heart and Peter sighs, stuffing the rest of his poptart in his mouth and grabbing his backpack from the floor.