Peter's birthday party, Tony decided, was going to be the greatest birthday the kid had ever had.

It had to be at the home, but Paisley had cleared one of the bigger rooms for it.

Peter was still asleep when Tony got there, carrying a box of decorations and a box of presents.

The woman shook her head in exasperation, laughter shining in her eyes. "Over the top much?"

He shrugged lightly. "It's my kid's birthday. I'm telling him about the adoption, so it's a pretty special occasion."

They brought Peter in near lunch.

Yellow and red decorations lined the walls, and brightened the table and chairs.

Peter didn't say or sign anything, but his eyes were wide as saucers as he moved slowly and carefully around the table piled with brightly wrapped presents to stand in front of Tony.

“What's up, buddy?” Tony signed.

Peter simply held his arms out, a silent plea to be held. Tony didn't hesitate to lift him up, grabbing the first of the presents from the pile.

"What is it?" Peter's face was adorably serious, eyes narrowed as he turned the small box over.

Tony kissed the top of his head. "Hey Pep, can you get a camera?"

She nodded softly, eyes shining. "Of course."

Then he answered Peter's question, tipping his head up with one finger to see the words he signed. "It's your birthday. They're presents."

The eight year old lit up like a christmas tree, eyes wide and round. "For me?"

Tony grinned softly. "Who else?"

The first present was a Lego set.

Peter's eyes were shining, and he couldn't seem to stop smiling, as if the small box was the best present he'd gotten in his life.

Tony hadn't gone overboard with the amount of presents, choosing to pick three- or five- meaningful ones.

He still had the best one waiting.

After Peter had pulled the paper off of the last gift, Tony beckoned him closer.

The boy frowned curiously at him, then lifted his hands.

Tony expected him to start signing, but then small fingers rubbed across his forehead, trying to erase the frown lines there.

A soft smile broke through, and Peter returned it hesitantly, then more confident as Tony lifted him into the air.

Pepper shot him a reassuring nod over Peter's shoulder before taking another picture.

The porch of the home wasn't much, but it was warm, with a slight breeze, and beams of sun lighting the trees.

Tony sank down into a rocking chair, letting Peter stand in front of him, one small foot digging into the concrete.

He lifted Peter's chin again, smiling briefly, then brought his hands up. "I have another present for you. If you want it."

Peter nodded excitedly, bouncing on his toes.

Here goes.

Making sure Peter's eyes were on him, Tony took a deep breath, and signed the words he had wanted to say for years.

"I'm adopting you."

Tony waited with bated breath as Peter stared at his hands, then him, then his hands, then him again.

He could have cried when understanding dawned on Peter's face, followed by shock, then at last blinding joy.

The boy nodded quickly, so quickly Tony was half afraid he'd get whiplash.

The eight year old darted forward, throwing his small arms around Tony, and squeezing tightly.

"Yes," he choked out. "Yes!"

The excitement didn't wear off, and Peter stayed awake longer than Tony expected.

It was after eleven that Peter started yawning, and trying to climb into Tony's lap.

Paisley, who had left them alone most of the day, offered the use of the spare room again, and Tony couldn't find the heart to refuse.

Not when Peter was staring up at him, eyes wide and pleading.

Especially not when it was Peter's birthday, and he'd just learned that he was going to be adopted.

So they took it.

Peter curled against Tony's side, fitting into the place he'd held all his life.

Tony ran his hand over Peter's soft hair, moving it in a soothing, repetitive movement.

"Love you."

The words were spoken in Peter's quiet, croaky, and hesitant voice that was so familiar, but the words-

Tony felt his heart burst.

He pressed a kiss to the side of Peter's head.

The boy wasn't looking at him, so he didn't have a way to say it back, but he hoped that Peter could feel the way his embrace tightened, and his head rested against Peter's.

Sleep wouldn't come.

He lay there for hours, listening to the soft breathing of his son.

His son.

It sounded so right.

He didn't dare to move, afraid that he'd wake Peter up, and so he stared at the ceiling, mind turning over the events of the day, and Peter's proclamation of love.

Peter had been four when he had first tried teaching him to speak.

He had the attention span of a squirrel, and the energy to match.

But Tony had sat with him for as long as he could stand it, trying futilely to teach the boy to speak.

It wasn't working, though, because every time he said something, the boy would try to copy him, but couldn't make the sounds.

He sat there for what seemed like hours, trying to teach his kid how to speak, but not knowing how.

Then he got an idea.

The vibration.

He lifted Peter into his lap, took his hand, putting it against his throat, and said the boy's name.

Peter jerked back in surprise, wide eyes  darting from his hand to Tony's face.

Then his mouth moved, but still no sound came out.

So Tony pressed Peter's hand to his throat, then Peter's other hand to the boy's own throat.

And said his name again.

Peter tried to copy him, frowning when he couldn't feel anything.

Tony repeated different words, hoping something would catch, but gradually losing hope.

Until, hours later, Peter finally said something.

"Tony."

The four year old gaped, hand patting his throat frantically, and looking to Tony for approval.

The older man had tears in his eyes.

He finally drifted off to sleep, dreams filled with the bright smile of his son.