an: this week has been so long and terrible and I just needed some light in my life so I wrote this, because I love you guys and y'alls support of this story makes me so happy and I just kinda need that right now. So here's the (for real this time) last chapter of this fic. 100% fluff.

+1.5 / The Third Sunday in June

They both knew what day it was—the third Sunday in June.

Father's Day.

Peter usually spent Father's Day alone. It sounded sad, but his parents had passed when he was young enough that he'd never really established any meaningful connection to the holiday, so it didn't really feel as though he was missing out. After all, it was hard to miss something you never really had.

Howard Stark was so distant—mentally and physically. It didn't matter if he was thousands of miles away on a business trip or a few hundred feet away in his shop; he was never really there. Tony made his peace with it. If his dad wasn't around he wasn't going to cry about it, it was just the way things were. But it did make for a rather lackluster Father's Day.

Needless to say, it was an unfamiliar holiday for both of them.

Somewhere along the way, though, Tony and Peter had taken to spending the day together. It started with the cherry-red Porsche. Then, perhaps by chance or maybe by some subconscious desire on both sides, they spent the same day together the following year. And then the one after that.

Before they realized what was happening, it had become a tradition.

Still, they'd never voice the fact that it was Father's Day. It was just a random day that they happened to spend together. Annually.

But it was just a coincidence and nothing more. It couldn't be more than that, because if it was, they'd have to address a relationship that was still hard for them to put a label on. It was easier this way.

And then Peter broke their unspoken rules.

They were sprawled on Tony's extremely expensive couch, sharing half of Peter's less expensive blanket.

Peter yawned as the end credits scrolled across the screen.

Tony had fallen asleep about halfway through the movie, his head slumped awkwardly against the armrest. Peter prodded at him until he fluttered his eyelids open.

"Mr. Stark?"

The man finally lifted his shoulders off the couch, sitting up lazily as he regained his bearings.

"You missed the best part," Peter chastised, another yawn escaping his lips.

Tony snorted. "I've watched that movie at least a dozen times with you. I think I could recite the whole thing by now." He lifted his watch up to his face, straining to read it in the darkened room.

"Alright, kiddo, it's past my bedtime," he said, slowly standing up and starting for the stairs, "I'll see you in the morning."

"Wait—before you go," Peter rummaged in his bag, retrieving a red envelope.

"I, uhm, saw this and May thought it was so cute and that I should... here," he finally managed, practically shoving the thing into Tony's hands, "goodnight!"

He tried to leave before his mentor noticed that his face was flaming red, but Tony grabbed his arm, effectively thwarting his escape.

"What's this?" He dropped the kids arm to examine the item in his hand.

The boy rolled nervously between the balls of his feet and his heels. "You know, you're right. It's getting late. I should probably go to bed. Gotta get my full eight hours and all that."

"Pete," Tony said, but the kid had already darted from the room.

He ran his thumb under the envelopes seal, revealing a red and white card with a Superman logo on the front and the words "Not All Heroes Wear Capes".

He flipped it open. "Happy Father's Day to my favorite superhero."

Underneath the type-written font was a familiar messy handwriting.

"Capes are overrated. (Besides, the gold-titanium suit is way cooler.) –Peter P."

Tony coughed suddenly, attempting to release the heaviness that was settling on his chest.

A few feet away, a floorboard creaked.

"I can see you, kid," he called to the mess of curls poorly hidden around the corner.

Peter pushed himself more tightly against the wall and held his breath. He nearly jumped through the ceiling when Tony appeared in front of him.

He mumbled shyly, his eyes aimed toward the floor. "Too cheesy, huh?"

Tony didn't say anything.

"I know it's kind of weird and mushy but, even though I know it's not like a big deal... I just thought that—because, you know... I don't know what I'm trying to say."

A second later, a pair of arms circled tightly around Peter.

"Mr-,"

"Shh."

Peter's stiff body relaxed into the embrace, pretending not to notice the dampness on his scalp as Tony's forehead pressed into his hair.

Tony finally released him a moment later.

"Okay. Well, don't stay up too late. I promised May I'd bring you back in better shape than I found you."

His voice were steady as he patted Peter's shoulder, desperately trying to look composed, but the glint in his eyes gave him away.

"Love you too," Peter whispered, swiftly hugging Tony and then disappearing down the hall before he could protest.

Tony smiled and leaned against the wall, rubbing the cardstock between his fingers. He wondered when it had happened—when had the switch been flipped?

Because it wasn't just the third Sunday in June anymore.

And he hoped it would never be just that again.