A Bird Without Wings (Discontinued)

That's when I know (Everything is all right)

The day passed quickly, with Peter being there.

With every quiet laugh, and every shy smile, the realization that Peter was his kid now, and couldn't be taken away ran through his head.

Each time he would pull his son close.

Peter, equally as clingy, didn't mind in the slightest.

Eventually, they were left standing in the living room after a grand tour, with Peter staring out the windows in awe.

Being on the 75th floor had its perks, Tony admitted.

Soon enough it was dark, and Peter was trying to hide yawns.

"Alright," Tony clapped his hands together, moving to Peter's side, and tapping his cheek gently to get his attention. "Bedtime for small people."

Peter nodded, shoulders falling slightly.

Tony waited patiently as Peter brushed his teeth, changed, and climbed into bed before tucking him in, and resting his hand on the small shoulder.

"Love you," he signed. "Sleep tight."

His son reached for him as he stood up, small fingers catching the hem of his sleeve. "Stay?"

Making a big show of pursing his lips, putting his hands on his hips, and scowling, Tony wrinkled his nose.

Then, scooping the boy up in his arms, laughing all the while, he bounded down the hallway into the living room, and dropped onto the couch.

Peter climbed carefully onto his chest, small fingers poking at Tony's nose. "Play?" He asked softly.

A small smile lifted the corners of Tony's mouth, and he rolled over, dropping Peter onto the cushion beside him, and standing up. 'We're building a pillow fort.'

The boy's eyes lit up, and he threw himself at Tony's legs, wrapping both his arms around as far as they could reach.

Their creation was immense, making use of the collection of cushions and throw pillows, and dragging out the stockpile of blankets.

When they finally flopped down inside of it, Peter draped himself over Tony's chest, nestling into his arms. "Goin' to sleep."

"You do that, kiddo," Tony murmured softly, fondness softening his smile.

In less than five minutes, Peter was out cold, and tiny snores were the only sound that broke the silence.

The rhythmic sounds lulled Tony into a warm drowsiness, and soon he was asleep too.

Later that night, Pepper entered the apartment, footsteps light.

She rolled her eyes fondly as she saw the mess her boys had made, then the look of fond exasperation melted away into a soft smile.

Peter was wrapped around Tony's arm, thumb in his mouth, and a small line of drool trailing down his chin.

Tony had his arms wrapped around his son, head resting back against a pillow, and his expression was relaxed, and open.

He finally looked peaceful, something that had been taken from him in Afghanistan.

She knelt, kissing Peter's forehead, and pulling the blanket over both of them.

Then she left, pulling the door shut, and heading home to her own apartment.