This is non-canon compliant, Peter is Tony's and Pepper's biological son, Civil War and Ultron never happened, and Infinity War is non-existent.

So basically I wanted irondad fluff, with a teeeeeny bit of the feels, if you know what I mean.

Okay okay I meant a lot of feels.

It's fluffy angst. Sort of.

Flangst?

Oh well.

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"What will I do while you're gone, dad?" Seven  year old Peter had whispered sadly.

"What do you usually do?" Tony asked gently, hugging his son close.

"Wait for you to get back."

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The seven year old had run to his room when they got the news, huddling under his blanket and stuffing his fist in his mouth to muffle the sobs.

No one gave Peter any details, only telling him that his dad wasn't coming home from his mission.

But they wouldn't tell him anything else.

So he waited, hiding in places that no one would think to look, and listening to the conversations that were supposedly not for his ears.

He kind of wished he hadn't done that.

Because his mom and Uncle Rhodey were scared.

They were never scared.

They said, in quiet voices, that his dad was missing.

No one knew where.

He might even be dead.

The team couldn't find him.

Aunt Nat had gone 'underground' to try and find him, whatever that meant, and Uncle Clint was with her.

Uncle Bruce was gone. He had left when they got the news, tints of green around his eyes.

His mom had cried, and held Peter close.

And Peter was scared.

He wanted his dad.

But his dad was very far away.

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Peter stopped listening in on conversations.

He couldn't listen to them losing hope.

He just wanted his dad.

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He barely ate, getting worried looks from Pepper and concerned inquiries.

He simply replied that he wasn't very hungry.

His dad might not have food.

He just wanted his dad.

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Months later, the team still searched, almost giving up after each failed mission.

Pepper took care of Peter.

It had been months since Peter had hugged his dad.

He'd had a birthday, and still his dad didn't come.

He was probably hurt.

His dad got hurt a lot. And it made him sad, which made Peter sad.

After the aliens in New York, his dad had bad dreams.

Peter would help with them.

He would curl up beside his dad, and listen to the beating of his heart.

His dad always said that Peter kept him sane.

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"Peter?"

The frantic call came from downstairs.

Seconds later it was repeated.

"Peter!"

Footsteps hurried up the stairs to his room, and Pepper stood in the doorway breathing heavily. "Your dad is okay."

The eight year old shot up, the pile of blankets falling to the floor. "Where is he?"

She hesitated. "Nat found him. She's bringing him home. You'll be able to see him tomorrow."

He was finally going to see his dad again.

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Nat called, telling Pepper they'd be there late that night, and telling her that Peter should try to sleep, because Tony was in bad shape, she told them quietly. He was hurt. And tired. And hungry.

And he might not feel up to seeing Peter quite yet.

Which Peter didn't understand. Why wouldn't his dad want to see him?

His mom had gotten off the phone with Aunt Nat, her eyes sad, as if she knew something Peter didn't.

"Mom?" Peter asked quietly. "Is dad okay?"

She had pulled him into a hug, crying softly into his hair.

"He will be," she said softly after she stopped. "He will be."

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Peter didn't want to go to bed.

Pepper tried reasoning with him, but he refused.

"I want to see dad." Peter whispered stubbornly.

Pepper rubbed her eyes tiredly. "What if I wake you up when he gets here?"

Peter started to argue, but stopped when he saw that she was almost crying.

Then he gave her a hug. "Okay," his voice was muffled.

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Someone was sitting on the side of his bed when he woke up, a hand running through his hair, another one cradling his face.

The hand was calloused, but gentle at the same time.

And Peter was suddenly wide awake.

He shot up, narrowly missing slamming into the person in the darkness.

There was a flurry of movement, then he heard his dad's voice. "Lights Jarvis. 12%."

The room lit up dimly, and Peter threw himself at his dad, burying his face in his dad's shirt.

His fingers gripped the back of Tony's shirt, and muffled sobs came from his mouth.

"Hey, hey, it's okay bud," his dad's voice was reassuring. "It's okay."

Peter shook his head,breathing in the warmth of Tony's hug. "'S not okay. I wanted you."

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Tony pressed a kiss to the top of Peter's head. "I know, bud. I wanted to come home."

Peter looked up, and Tony nearly started crying himself.

Well, more than he already was.

Peter eyes were red rimmed, and his face was tear stained.

He felt a twisted feeling of guilt when Peter buried his face in his shirt again. "I was scared," the boy whispered. "I thought you weren't coming back."

Tony held his son close, and started singing, a gentle lullaby.

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.
You make me happy, when skies are gray.
You'll never know dear, how much I love you.
Please don't take my sunshine away."

Tony looked down. Peter had stopped sobbing so hard, but was still crying softly.

Tony gently ran his finger under Peter's eye, wiping away the tears. "I love you Peter," he whispered. "I love you bambino."

Peter curled up in Tony's lap. "Love you daddy."

Peter rarely called him that. Only when the boy was tired, or particularly emotional.

He waited until Peter was asleep, then let him lean back onto the pillow, supporting his head.

Peter gave a quiet sound of protest, gripping Tony's sleeve without opening his eyes. "Don' leave."

Tony smiled softly at his tired son. "I'm not. Don't worry bud."

He moved around to the other side of the bed, laying down, and letting Peter curl up into his embrace.

The two slept soundly that night.

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Pepper came in quietly the next morning.

Tony was already up. Awake, rather, and Peter was sound asleep, head resting on Tony's chest.

Pepper smiled at the scene. "He missed you."

Tony glanced down, pressing a kiss to the soft curls. "Yeah. I know."

She sat at the edge of the bed, one hand playing nervously with the cuff of her sleeve. "He listened in on our conversations. He knew a lot of what was going on."

Tony met her eyes. "Is he okay? Are you?"

She sighed. "I'm fine. Now that he knows you're okay, he will be. He's barely been eating, or sleeping. We tried, but he wouldn't. When I asked him why, he said it was because you might not be able to eat."

Tony shook his head tiredly. "This kid, I swear. He's got a good heart. Way too cute for his own good."

Pepper patted his knee. "I'm going to make breakfast. I'll call when it's ready."

She had only been gone for a few minutes when Peter started moving around.

Tony looked down, preparing to make a joke about how late they were sleeping in, but it does on his lips when he saw tears running down Peter's face.

"Hey. Hey, Pete. Bud." Tony shook him gently, then harder. "Peter."

The boy gave a small whimper, hands reaching for something. "I wan' my daddy!"

Tony pulled Peter into his lap, sitting up, and cradling the small boy in his arms. "Peter, hey. Come on, wake up. I'm right here."

Peter's eyes shot open, and he shoved his palms into his eyes, trying to stop the tears.

Between the sobs, Tony could hear the words he was saying. "I want daddy. I want daddy."

Tony pulled Peter's hands away from his eyes. "Hey bud. It's okay, I'm right here. I'm right here."

Peter's eyes settled on Tony, and he fell back into his dad's arms. "I thought- I thought that you weren't here!" He sobbed. "I thought it was a dream!"

Tony pulled the blankets up into a pile, letting Peter be curled into a small nest between Tony's chest and the mound of cloth. "Shhh. No, I'm here. I'm here bud. And I'm not leaving you."

He began humming softly, hand rubbing circles on Peter's shoulder.

"Hey Jarvis?" He kept his voice quiet.

"Yes sir." The gentle voice sounded like home.

"Can you tell Pep, or rather ask her, to bring breakfast up here? I want breakfast in bed."

"Of course sir."

"Thanks buddy."

"Of course sir."

Pepper appeared in the doorway ten minutes later, a tray held in her hands. "Too lazy to eat in the kitchen?" She asked teasingly.

Tony pointed to Peter in his arms. "Quite the opposite, actually."

Her mouth formed an o.

Tony poked Peter's side, grinning when he was rewarded with a slight giggle. "You're still ticklish, is it?"

Peter emerged from the pile of blankets, shaking his head quickly. "Not ticklish."

Tony wrinkled his nose, faking disgust. "Who am I going to tickle now?"

Peter thought for a minute. "Mom."

Tony shrugged. "Your will is my command, milord."

Pepper's eyes widened in panic, and she moved away from his fingers. "Tony- don't you dare- TONY."

Peter fell back against Tony, giggling so hard he couldn't breath. "You hafta run!"

She made her way to the door, glaring lightheartedly at Tony. "I'm watching you," she threatened. "I know where you sleep!"

Tony waved his hand. "And you're welcome to join me."

She pointed two fingers at her eyes, then at him. "I'm watching."

Tony gasped exaggeratedly. "How horrible. You're... watching."

Peter popped up. "She means it."

Pepper pointed at Peter. "What the child said."

Tony narrowed his eyes playfully. "Better take care, Pete. I might... TICKLE YOU!"

Peter squealed as he tried to wiggle away from Tony, who refused to let up his onslaught. "You're on your own now!"

Peter then managed to land a well placed foot. All the air rushed out of Tony's lungs, and he doubled over, gasping for breath. "Foul...play..." he wheezed.

Peter draped himself over Tony's knees. "You asked for it."

Pepper disappeared, calling over her shoulder. "Once again, the child is right. It appears he inherited my common sense."

Peter spun towards the door. "Can we have ice cream for lunch?"

Her voice faintly echoed from the stairs. "I rescind my earlier statement. He has inherited his father's bad taste."

Tony  blinked. "Okay wow. Betrayal."