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A lot has changed for Peter Parker in the last few months.
Well, really, the last five years and several months. But to him, it's only been the several months.
It's been weird. But Peter is good at adapting; he's had to do a lot of it in his short life. Though even he has to admit that coming to terms with the fact that he was technically dead for five years—along with everything that's different now that he's back—has been somewhat of a challenge.
Perhaps one of the most interesting things he got out of the many changes is the fireball that is Morgan Stark.
Not having any siblings of his own—and wishing for years that he did—Peter had always wondered why his friends and classmates constantly complained about theirs, especially younger ones. Sure, it makes sense that they would probably get on your nerves sometimes, but having someone who looks up to you and wants to be your best friend sounded pretty cool.
Now he thinks he knows what his friends mean.
He loves Morgan to death, he really does. The girl is funny and sassy and somehow exactly equal parts both her parents. She adores Peter—because apparently while he was dust, Mr. Stark told her “bunches” of stories about him—and constantly wants his attention. She follows him like a little duckling whenever he’s around. It had taken some getting used to, but Peter quickly adjusted to having a tiny shadow. Most of the time, he doesn’t mind it. In fact, he revels in the knowledge that he’s a favorite of the girl and tries to do fun stuff with her like playing tag and hide-and-seek and sneaking juice pops whenever Mr. Stark isn’t looking.
But as of late, Morgan has gotten into a rather…annoying habit of attempting to sound just like Peter. She’ll try to integrate his mannerisms and tone into her own sentences, or just straight up copy his words.
Well, Peter can play that game, too. He gives it as good as he gets.
Morgans struts into the room, clambering up onto the chair next to Peter and leaning far into his personal space bubble to peer over his shoulder.
“What are you doing?” Peter asks, slightly amused.
“What are you doing?” she repeats back.
“Homework.”
“Homework.”
Peter raises an eyebrow. “You’re not doing any homework.”
“You’re not doing any homework.”
“Are you copying everything I’m saying?”
“Are you copying everything I’m saying?”
“Mo, you’re being silly.”
“Mo, you’re being silly.”
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
And so it goes nearly every time they see each other now. For some reason, Morgan finds it hilarious. Mr. Stark did too, at first, until he was forced to hear the same sentences repeated over and over and over again whenever both of them were around.
It’s become a game of sorts to the girl, Peter thinks. She’s always watching his every move, ready to parrot whatever he says with all the sass of a four-year-old.
Most recently, though, the little copycat has added a surprising new twist to her game.
Morgan and Mr. Stark had just picked Peter up from school the first time it happened. Peter was supposed to be going back to the lake house to spend the weekend with the Starks like he does practically every other week now.
Peter opens the back door of the Audi and pitches his backpack inside, sliding into the backseat after it. “Hey, Mr. Stark. Hey, Mo,” he greets, holding his breath the moment the words are out.
The dark-haired girl sitting in her car seat gives him a wide grin. “Petey!” she squeals joyfully, effectively deafening both other occupants of the car. “Finally! We’ve been waiting forever." She draws out the last word in her usual dramatic fashion.
Relief fills Peter when he realizes today is not a Copycat Day and he won’t have to worry about either staying completely silent or having to hear his own words echoed all throughout the rest of the afternoon and evening—hopefully their luck extends into the whole weekend as well.
“Forever is a long time, Little Miss,” Mr. Stark says from the driver's seat, putting the car into gear and pulling away from Midtown.
It’s still a little weird to see Mr. Stark behind the wheel, even though he's been the one ferrying Morgan and Peter around for the past month since school started—effectively putting Happy out of a chauffeur job. Peter was surprised that the head of security actually seemed a little disappointed about that, though he hid it well under remarks like, “It's about time someone relieved me from pick-up duty. I never want to see a carpool line again.”
Morgan crosses her arms over her chest in response to her father’s comment. “And it was a long time we waited.”
Mr. Stark just snorts and changes the subject, glancing at Peter through the rearview mirror. “How was school, kid?”
In the several months that have passed since Mr. Stark saved the world and almost died, Peter has come to terms with the fact that not only has he missed out on five years, but that in those five years, his mentor had become such a dad—both literally and figuratively speaking. The hug on the battlefield that day had been just the beginning.
As Mr. Stark recovered from his injuries sustained from wielding the Infinity Stones, it became very clear that his newfound emotional vulnerability with his family extended to Peter, too. There was less over-the-top sarcasm and distancing, more open affection. Even just mundane stuff like asking him how his day was or stopping by his apartment to say hi to May or inviting him over to the lake house or the city penthouse every chance he gets. It’s been everything Peter ever hoped and dreamed to have from his idol—sometimes he still finds himself wondering if maybe it is all just a dream. Or maybe he really is still dead.
“School was all right, Mr. Stark,” Peter answers, realizing how much of a pause there had been. Awkward. “I still just think it's stup—silly” —he quickly corrects with a glance in Morgan's direction— “that they made us start the whole year over. We've learned all this stuff already.” He knows that it's in part to give all the Blipped a chance to slowly integrate back into the world and come to terms with what happened without too much additional stress, but Peter thinks a distraction would be a good thing for most of them. Instead, he gets to sit in a classroom all day, bored, while Flash pokes fun at him. Sometimes he kind of wishes the bully wouldn't have been dusted—then he'd be in college by now and not bugging Peter and his friends anymore.
Mr. Stark just hums.
“School is so fun!” Morgan declares, who just started going to Pre-K a few days a week. She gasps suddenly, jabbing a finger at the car’s window as they pass a sign in the shape of a bright yellow “M.” “McDonalds! Mr. Stark, can we please stop?”
“Maguna, I thought I taught you better than that. Always Burger King. McDonalds is a disgrace to—”
If Peter hadn’t been wearing a seatbelt, his head would have slammed directly in the back of the seat in front of him. He grabs the car door handle to steady himself, wondering why his spider sense didn’t alert him to any incoming danger. “What—”
Morgan lets out a screech louder than the tires at the car’s sudden stop. “Why’d you do that?”
Mr. Stark cranes his neck around to peer into the backseat, eyes wider than Peter can ever remember seeing them before. “What did you just call me?”
“Please can we get milkshakes?” Morgan asks, already forgetting the whiplash they were just subjected to.
“Morgan. What did you say my name was?”
She gives him a look of total innocence. “Mr. Stark.”
“My name is Daddy. That’s what you call me. Daddy.”
“No!” Morgan says with a giggle. “It’s Mr. Stark!”
“Not to you, ma’am.”
A car behind them honks, and Mr. Stark turns his eyes back to the road and begins driving again.
“But Petey calls you that.”
“Yeah, but you don’t.”
“Why?”
“Because—”
“Mr. Stark.”
“Morgan.”
“Mr. Stark.”
Peter rubs a hand against his pants, interrupting awkwardly. “Mr. Stark—”
Mr. Stark groans dramatically, the sound long and loud.
Morgan giggles. “Mr. Stark, Mr. Stark, Mr. Stark!”
“I have a feeling this will not be going away any time soon,” Mr. Stark says with a sigh.
And true to the man’s word, it doesn't.
When they finally make it to the lake house—milkshakes in hand—and explain the situation to Pepper, the woman is quick to reassure them that this is probably just a phase and that the four-year-old will be over it by the next week at the latest.
It is not, in fact, over by the next week.
Morgan has decided in that little kid brain of hers that her father is officially no longer “Daddy,” but instead “Mr. Stark.” And no matter who tries to explain it to her or convince her differently, nothing can change her mind. This girl is a Stark through and through.
It might have been funny the first few times, but just like her other copycat tendencies, it quickly gets old for everyone around. Still, Morgan refuses to call her dad by anything other than “Mr. Stark.” They're really not sure if she's purposefully trying to drive them all up a wall or if she genuinely just thinks that since Peter uses that name, she needs to do it, too.
After school.
“Petey, I have to tell you something Mr. Stark did today.”
Family dinners.
“Mr. Stark, can I have some more s’ghetti?”
Bedtime.
“I want one more bedtime story, please, Mr. Stark.”
And every weekend morning like clockwork, Morgan will wait for Peter to greet the man first with his usual, “Good morning, Mr. Stark” before blurting out her own, “Mornin’, Mr. Stark!”
No matter how many times she does it, it just sounds…weird and wrong to hear that title coming from the four-year-old’s mouth. Is that how Mr. Stark feels when Peter calls him that? Peter hopes not. The man has never flat out told him he doesn't like being called that, or that he wants to be called something different.
One aspect of this whole situation that’s a little amusing is the way Mr. Stark’s eye twitches every time the formal title comes out of his daughter’s mouth. It's really kind of funny; that Peter can’t deny.
But it’s gone on too long now, and Peter knows it needs to stop. No conversation is going to convince Morgan why she needs to call her father “Daddy” and not by his real name, and knowing the girl, there’s no telling how long this might go on before she decides she doesn’t want to do it anymore and moves on to something else.
So Peter decides it’s time to take matters into his own hands.
It’s Saturday morning, and Morgan and Peter are sitting across from each other at the kitchen table eating breakfast when Mr. Stark stumbles into the room—bleary-eyed as usual. He automatically moves over to the counter, pressing a quick kiss to Pepper’s lips and gratefully taking the offered cup of coffee that's pushed into his hands.
Peter sees the mischievous gleam forming in Morgan’s eyes as she waits for him to give his usual greeting that she’ll immediately parrot.
The room is silent for a moment, save for the clinking of a fork against a plate as Morgan drags the utensil through her sticky syrup. Then Peter looks the little girl dead in the eyes before returning to his own breakfast and cheerfully saying, “Good morning, Dad.”
Out of his peripheral vision, he sees Mr. Stark choke on the sip of coffee he’d just taken, spewing caffeinated liquid across the countertop. He really hopes he didn’t misjudge this. Maybe it was a bad idea. Sure, everyone refers to Peter as Morgan’s brother, and Mr. Stark has flat out called Peter “my kid” plenty of times, but this is a big jump—they definitely aren't there.
Then again, it’s not a big deal, right? Peter only came up with this idea for Morgan’s sake…right? Totally. It was not some sort of test to see how Mr. Stark would react.
Said four-year-old is currently staring at him, eyes big and round, her shock evident at this unexpected turn of events.
Pepper is the first one to recover, an amused smile forming on her face as she swipes a towel from the edge of the sink and begins to mop up drops of coffee. “Well now, Morgan, it seems like you have quite the dilemma on your hands.”
Morgan’s narrowed eyes dart back and forth between Peter and Mr. Stark, her thoughts almost loud enough to be audible as she weighs her options. She pops a piece of syrup-soaked pancake into her mouth, chews for a second, and says, “Dad, can you bring me some more chocolate milk, please?”
Peter isn’t sure which one of them lets out the biggest sigh of relief.
“Coming right up,” Mr. Stark answers. His gaze flits over to Peter. “And good morning to you too, kiddo.”
***
If Morgan calling him “Mr. Stark” had taken him by surprise the first time it happened, Peter casually calling him “Dad” that morning was something closer to a shock to Tony. Yet he was unable to ignore the warmth that had risen up in his chest when it happened—once he’d finished recovering from hot coffee coming out of his nose, that is.
At first—just like Pepper had said when the situation was reversed—he was sure it wouldn't last. Peter was only calling him that to get Morgan to go back to it, because they all knew the problem had stemmed from Peter's dutiful tie to being respectful to the adults around him. It would fade soon enough.
But then Peter started calling him “Dad” even when Morgan wasn't around, the name rolling off his tongue more naturally every time he said it. And now Tony wonders if there was always something deeper going on here that no one else saw but Morgan. The way the girl has so easily fallen back into calling him by the right name only adds to his suspicions that this whole thing might have been some elaborate scheme by his too-smart daughter.
Morgan, for her part, seems quite satisfied with this turn of events. “If he’s my daddy, and you're my brother, then that means he’s your daddy, too,” he'd overheard her explaining to Peter while they’d sat on the front porch one afternoon, as if the teen didn't understand how familial relationships worked.
Well. Tony will have to make sure to give her an extra juice pop later.
“Should I talk to him about it?” he asks Pepper one day. “He shouldn't feel obligated to call me that if he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to, right? Do you think he wants to?”
His wife just laughs and shakes her head. “For as smart as both of you are, you really have a hard time seeing what's right in front of you.”
Eventually, Tony comes to the conclusion that if Peter is willing to let Tony be a father to him, then Tony is more than proud to call the kid his son.
So life goes on. Tony is now “Dad” to both an adorable, four-year-old sassy princess and a genius spider-kid.
He doesn't think he could be any happier.