#lovedu3000

       “Come, stop your crying. It will be alright.” He crouched beside her for a moment to brush the hair away from her face so he could wipe away her tears with his sleeve then he allowed himself to fall back onto his backside and sit down. There were very few things in life that hurt Tony more than seeing his baby cry. Kids fell, it happened, it was a natural part of growing up to skin your knees, but it still broke his heart. He took hold of her hand with his own and gave her a comforting smile, “Hold it tight.” 

“I’ve got ‘er Happy, you go get the grub,” Gwen smiled, appearing in the doorway beside them before she wanders to Morgan and kneels before her. “Hey kiddo, I’m Gwen. I think your momma said she mentioned me once or twice,” she gives the little one a wink before she holds out her arms to her. “Wanna go make some flower crowns or skip some rocks while Happy goes to get us some cheeseburgers?”

Peter has been staring at the closed front door for all but fifteen minutes, Pepper having disappeared behind it in a flurry of coattails, Stark-pad and a promise to call him come Morgan’s bedtime. The teen deftly chewed on the inside of his cheek, a low surge of panic rising within the pit of his stomach once he realized he had no idea when Morgan’s bedtime was. The sky outside was still a pallid grey, attesting to the fact that the teen had some hours to fill before the business woman would sweep in to relieve him of his new-found charge; though Peter still found himself fishing his cell from his pocket to be sure, a low breath escaping his lungs once he noted the time. Yep hours. Oh god.

Peter Parker has never ever been in charge of taking care of a child (with the sole exception of himself and let’s face it, he’s never done a stellar job at it). He has punctuated this very fact over the phone to Mrs Stark in all of thirty seven stammers; but with Happy strong-arming the delivery of the new Stark Tech range to the Electronic Entertainment Expo and with Rhodey out in Washington for his annual debriefing, Pepper wasn’t really stripped for choice when it came to keeping an eye on her daughter. As it were, one of Stark Industries’ biggest investors was caught in an intel laundering scheme; non-kid friendly damage control measures needed to be taken and though it was said in the kindest, most motherly of tones—Peter understood that he didn’t really have a choice.

Few people said no to Pepper Stark.

Plus it was a Saturday so Peter relented his excuse to memorise Decathlon flash cards didn’t hold much weight in the face of an international emergency. Which is why Peter currently found himself in the cosy, lake-side residence; gaze skimming over the message from May to ‘have a nice time’; before he stuffed his phone into the depths of his pack, surveying every nook and cranny for his current mission objective.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to spend time with the littlest Stark, Peter in fact was very curious about her, having only seen her in passing a few times since the Funeral. He was just worried that he would feed her something that she was highly allergic to, maybe break one of her arms, cause her to cry actual wet tears—really relevant, heart attack inducing fears. She was the last of Mr Stark after all and that was something which had to be protected. It was a responsibility that trumped the friendly neighbourhood (the planet really) and Peter couldn’t afford to suck at it.

Hesitating for a moment, Peter dropped his bag onto the couch before making his way toward the back door; finding the rooms a little too quiet to be housing a five year old and hoping beyond hope that he didn’t manage to lose the girl already. “Hello! Morgan? Are you out here?”

              “ fifteen pushups it is then ! ” she decided, flopping down onto the floor from her plank position, arms cradling her head as she watched morgan. “ i’ll just pass the time by watching and cheering you on from down here. ” while her training regime was often kept quite strictly, she could afford herself a rest day when left to her own devices. perhaps it was her cockiness creeping up--- being on a several year undefeated streak gave her somewhat of a reason to think she had no reason to continue besting herself. 

Tomorrow it would be ten years since the death of Tony Stark. 

Still, Peter managed a small but genuine smile, shoving his messenger bag full of textbooks haphazardly in a corner and flopping down on the couch next to one Morgan Stark. He rested his head on her shoulder, taking the opportunity to read what she’d been looking at on her phone just to be annoying.

Numbers. Equations. So random that anyone with out a background in quantum physics wouldn’t realize what they were looking at. But Peter knew, Peter had jotted down the same numbers and had worked out the same equations nearly ten years ago, and then he’d stopped himself. Because it wasn’t what Mr. Stark would have wanted. Besides it wasn’t fair to play god. How could he justify bringing back Mr. Stark to Peter Quill who’d lost Gamora, to Thor who’d lost Loki and most of his people. Who was he to pick and choose? So he had erased the equations, and forgotten the numbers and had refused to think about quantum physics for a long, long time. 

“Oh sis.” He sighed. “You can’t change the past.”

“ I  thought  you’d  gone  to  school? ”  That  was  what  he’d  been  led  to  believe,  that  was  what  Morgan  always  did  on  a  week  day  around  well  about  an  hour  ago.  Sometimes  Tony  took  her,  on  occasion  Happy  offered.  “ Did  Happy  not  show  up  or  something?  Doesn’t  sound  like  him. ”  Turning  his  attention  away  from  the  screen  he  spun  around  to  face  Morgan  and  folded  his  arms.  “ Or  did  you  play  us  off  against  one  another  so  you  could  ditch? ”