A Slice Of Life, Death And Everything In-Between

A Birthday Bash

Prompt by @no one: I just wanted to write some fluff and this is the result, enjoy! <3

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"Dad?" Peter's voice is a mixture of amused and afraid, and Tony turns around at the sound. "What are you doing?"

The billionaire shifts to the side, allowing the mixture of blown up balloons and stuffed animals sitting next to him to fall to the floor. He stand up from the couch, grinning.

"What does it look like, buddy?" He asks, taking a step forward and nearly squishing a stuffed rabbit under his foot.

Peter blinks. "Well, right now it looks like a 8-year-old girl's birthday party just threw up in our living room."

"I'm offended, kiddo, this is obviously at least up to a 10-year-old standard."

Peter just rolls his eyes, walking to the kitchen and grabbing a bottle of apple juice, before hopping up on a stool and sitting. He kicks his legs, the front of his sneakers thumping against the wall.

"Is this a midlife crisis?"

"What?"

Peter takes a sip of his juice. "Is this like, what Ned was telling me about? His dad got to be 45-ish, and went off the deep end. He even bought a boat."

Tony laughs, coming over to stand beside his son and lightly flicks his ear. "Bud, I could buy a whole ocean if I wanted too, and no, this is not a midlife crisis."

"Are you sure, age regression is the first sign."

"Says the 15-year-old drinking a caprisun."

"Um, excuse me, sir, but this is a Khoolaid."

Tony holds up his hands, effective schooling his features into a serious expression. "Oh yeah, my mistake, sorry."

Peter giggles, scooting his chair over so that he is pushed against his father's side, leaning into the man. "Are you going to tell me about the balloons and stuff now?"

"Depends," Tony responds, reaching over to push a curl behind his son's ear. "Are you going to keep being a little shit?"

Peter nods, baby face serious. "When am I ever?"

"Uh-huh."

"Please?"

"Still thinking."

"Dad."

"Please hold for the beep."

"Dad, Dad, Dad, Dad, Dad,. . ."

Finally, Tony places a gentle hand over his son's mouth, effectively cutting off Peter's chanting. "If you are going to just waste air like that, I'm gonna put you on balloon duty."

Peter just groans goodnaturedly, pushing his dad's hand away and wiping at his face with a wrinkled nose. "Ew, you're hand tasted nasty."

"I don't even know how to respond to that."

"Dad." Peter says again, looking up at his father through his lashes, his doe eyes wide. "Please tell me now, I really really really wanna know."

Don't give in to the puppy dog eyes. Tony thinks. Don't you dare give in.

"It's Clint's daughter's birthday tomorrow." The billionaire says, cursing everything above for how fucking adorable his kid is. "And I wanted to surprise her with a little something."

Peter grins now, setting down his juice and getting to his feet. "Well, why didn't you just say so! I can totally help, what do I need to do?"

Thinking for a second, Tony gently steers his son toward the couch, sitting down beside the boy and pulling his against his side. Peter shifts, the leather squeaking underneath their combined weights.

"Start by gathering all the stuffed animals. " Tony instructs as he grabs a red balloon from the floor. "She doesn't like lions so if you find one, put it in the pile near the coffee table."

"No lions." Peter nods, already beginning to sort. "Got it."

"I'm gonna blow up some balloons and we can switch off jobs in a few minutes."

Sinking even further against his father's side, Peter just nods again, face creased in concentration and he inspects the stuffed animals in front of him. Tony watches his for a few more seconds, his heart filling up the like the balloons scattered around them, before lifting up a yellow decoration and blowing into it.

By the time Rhodey walks into the penthouse later that night, both father and son are leaning against each other, Peter snuggled against Tony's chest, the man's arm around his kid's waist, party decorations up to their knees around them.

Fast asleep.