Buying the ingredients was one thing. Actually it was pretty enjoyable, as far as shopping went for both Stark the younger and Stark the older. The younger of course, not even changing out of his red and gold pyjama bottoms, had a perfectly patching Iron Man hoodie, and a pair of shades because Tony's always right about the lights being too bright inside a supermarket (totally not true, it's the 'going in your father's footsteps' kind of thing), and the older in his Spider-Man sweats and a Spider-Man hoodie, together with some red and blue slippers and a pair of grey shades because it's Tony Stark, ladies and gentlemen.

The press still wouldn't understand the irony, but at least people were staring because the most famous father-son duo on the planet were in a local supermarket, shopping. Shopping. Tony Stark was doing something seemingly domestic for once in his life. Who would have thought?

"Okay, okay, Dad, we need rice, prawns, olive oil, wait didn't Steve say we still have some left?, anyway, mussels, calamari, maybe clams, does Pepper like them?-garlic, parsley-"

"Slow down!"

"Onions, tomatoes-" Peter looked up into Tony's frustrated eyes, as they searched aisle after aisle for the right rice.

"But what does the internet have on the perfect rice for paella?"

"Lemme check." Peter said, and he quickly typed in 'rice for paella' in Google, "so we've got-, wait, wait."

"Peter-"

"Okay, okay, hang on, bomba rice and arborio?" Peter said questioningly, "know anything about that?" Peter asked, smiling meekly.

"Ugh! Why, why, why the hell is Pepper's favourite dish Paella?" Tony exclaimed, letting out a frustrated groan, "why couldn't it be... I don't know...spaghetti?"

"Just because it's the only thing you know how to cook, doesn't mean it's what everyone likes." Peter said, comparing two boxes of rice, reading the descriptions intently. Tony groaned again, dumping his hands into his hoodie pocket and squinting his eyes at the boxes of rice, staring right back at him.

"And how do you remain so annoyingly optimistic, huh, kid? We're cooking PAELLA for Pepper, and neither of us have the faintest clue about what's going on!" Tony exclaimed, grabbing a random box from the shelf and dumping it into their cart.

"Hey! That's not the right rice! How do you-" Peter shouted, trying to take the box of rice out of the cart, but Tony pushed it forward quickly, grabbing Peters arm and pulled him away before he got another chance at searching for an appropriate substitute for the box of rice.

"I know everything kid." Tony said, moving onto the second item on their list, designed quickly on a piece of tissue with the combined effort of the entire team, on a mission to cook the perfect paella for Pepper Potts on her birthday.

"A second ago you told me how it was so unfair that Pepper's favourite food was Paella and you had no idea how to cook it! And I'm the only one that actually cares!" Peter complained, pouting at the box of rice sitting in their empty cart, walking dejectedly after Tony.

"You see? Sucks to be you, kid." Tony said, rolling his eyes.

They moved onto the fish section, and this time it was easy to pick out the best prawns and mules, but Peter still argued that Pepper might not be that big of a fan of clams, so before Tony dived deep into the freezer filled with packets of iced fish, Peter texted Nat to ask Pepper discreetly if she liked them.

Sticky-Boi: hey, could you ask pepper if she likes clams?

Spider-aunt: Sure. How's shopping going?

Sticky-Boi: good, Dad's moaning again.

Spider-aunt: She likes clams. Buy some good ones. Good luck :)

Sticky-Boi: thx. and btw, her favourite music's ABBA.

Spider-aunt: We know. All set-up at the Tower. Just need the food. Clint and Rhodey organized cake.

Sticky-Boi: Cool :)

By the time Peter looked up from his phone, Tony was no where in sight. Peter raced past the fish aisle in and slid across the slippery floor, earning some disapproving glances from a few old ladies shopping for some cheese. Smiling in return he sprinted past them, turning left and bumping straight into Tony.

"Jeez! Pete!" Tony shouted, nearly dropping the two bottles of olive oil.

"We don't need those!" Peter exclaimed in return, trying to grab them out of Tony's hands.

"How do you know?!" Tony shouted back.

"Steve said so!"

"Oh you're listening to Captain Righteous now?! I'm not your favourite anymore, am I?!" Tony shouted.

"What?! No! I'm just saying he was the only one that bothered to look inside the fridge this morning!" Peter shouted in return, grabbing the bottles out of Tony's hands and placing them back onto the shelf, squinting as the echo of glass against glass made a few heads turn their way.

"I'm disowning you, Pete." Tony said, pouting, pushing the cart dramatically and walking away.

"You love me too much!" Peter said, jumping onto Tony's back and hugging the man.

"Yeah I do." Tony said, sighing, "now, get off me, you're getting too heavy!"

"What do we need next?" Peter asked, peeking over Tony's shoulder at the tissue.

"Garlic, parsley, onions and tomatoes."

"The vegetable stand is over there." Peter said, pointing behind them.

"No. It's in front of us."

"No. That's where the bio and organic stuff is." Peter replied, tugging the cart away from Tony.

"Okay, FRIDAY scan area."

"Seriously, Dad? You're asking FRIDAY for help? We're just shopping!"

"Peter is indeed right. Fruits and vegetables are located in the north-east corner of the supermarket." FRIDAY responded.

"Hah! And who was right?" Peter said, grinning at Tony, who just rolled his eyes and went after the boy, shuffling his legs lazily.

"When I get my hands on you, you little piece of...shrimp." Tony finished silently, after a woman walked past them.

"Garlic, parsley, got it, tomatoes, how many do you think?"

"Four?"

"Aha. And onions. We have everything now." Peter said, looking once more at the list. They went towards the queue and stood in line awaiting their turn.

"How long do we have?"

"It's 7:30. Pep's gonna probably wake up at 9:00. I made sure she went to sleep late yesterday." Tony said.

"This can't go wrong. But we suck at cooking." Peter said.

"Speak for yourself." Tony said.

"Uh-huh. Are we totally gonna erase that one time when you-"

"Shut up."

"-burnt the kitchen."

"Nearly burnt it."

"I'm pretty sure you burnt it, dad." Peter said seriously, still eyeing the box of rice suspiciously.

"I hate you."

They managed to buy the items pretty smoothly as far as finding the two Stark's in a supermarket went. They loaded the bags into the car and drove towards the Tower, were they silently crept through the reception and into the private lift.

The team awaited them with anticipation, jumping from their seats the second the lift doors opened revealing Peter and Tony.

"We're gonna go set up the balcony for the party. And you guys get cooking." Nat said, smirking. She looked at them skeptically, "do us all a favor and try not to burn the kitchen."

She turned on her heel and disappeared through the balcony doors. Tony and Peter sighed heavily.

"Ready?"

"Ready."

They took out all the ingredients, while FRIDAY prepared the best recipe, and displayed it as a hologram in front of Peter and Tony.

"Jesus, what is this? Chinese?" Tony asked, frowning at the hologram.

"Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you have even the slightest clue about what we have to do?" Peter whispered, looking wide-eyed at the recipe.

"Truthfully or reassuringly?" Tony responded.

"Ugh. Yeah, we are totally and utterly screwed." Peter exclaimed. He let out a loud groan and opened the bag of rice letting the rice pour out straight into a glass bowl.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Tony exclaimed.

"Improvising. Dad, if there is one thing we're good at in this setting, it is improvising. Seriously, our heads would be in between two pieces of toast, while repeating 'I'm an idiot sandwich!' before Gordon Ramsey even sets his eyes on us!"

"Pete, you're a genius! I'll call him now." Tony suddenly said, taking out his phone, a glint of hope appearing in his eyes.

"WHAT?! GORDON RAMSEY? ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?" Peter shouted, shock and disbelief painted on his face.

"Yeah. He's my close friend. Actually met for dinner a month or two ago. Nice guy." Tony said matter-of-factly, searching through his contacts, one hand blocking Peter's attempt at stopping him.

"NO WAY! YOU ARE NOT CALLING GORDON RAMSEY!" Peter yelled, trying to snatch Tony's phone.

"Why? I'm Tony Stark, trying to call a good friend because I needs help in cooking."

"No. You're Tony Stark who doesn't even know how to break an egg!" Peter yelled in response.

"So what are you planning on doing, Pete?! Go on, show me, read this recipe written in some archaic Egyptian!" Tony shouted, smacking his phone right into the table with a loud bang, glaring at his son.

"IMPROVISE! IT TURNS OUT EVEN BUTTERFINGERS IS BETTER AT COOKING THAN WE ARE, CAUSE AT LEAST HE KNOWS HOW TO MAKE A COCKTAIL!" Peter yelled back, shoving two tomatoes into Tony's chest.

"DON'T YOU DARE BRING MY ROBOTS INTO THIS!"

"What in the hell is happening in here?" a calm voice interrupted them from behind. Silence filled the room, as father and son turned to face the person that interrupted their yelling. In the balcony doorway stood James Rhodes, eyebrows raised and shaking his head at the two boys' antics.

"Having trouble with cooking, I see?" he said, coming towards them, "tried reading the recipe, for once, like normal people? I know following a set of instructions isn't really your style, but cooking really doesn't leave a lot of room for creativity at an amateur level. Sticking to a recipe is the best course of action."

"And do you have a clue about cooking Paella, Rhodey?" Tony asked, sighing deeply, as he rested his head in his hands, leaning against the counter.

"Not a clue, Tones. Not a clue." he said, and with a smirk left the room.

"Let's make pizza." Peter suddenly announced, clasping his hands tighter and managing a smile.

"But Pepper-"

"Everyone loves pizza. And if she wanted to eat a proper Paella she would go to a restaurant, or ask your good friend Gordon Ramsey."

"Okay. Well then, you get the vegetables, I'll do the dough." Tony said.

"Do you know how to do it?" Peter asked, skeptically.

"Improvise."

They got to work, Tony taking out the flour, oil and yeast, while Peter started cutting tomatoes and cheese. FRIDAY prepared the easiest pizza recipe he could find on the internet.

"Okay, it says, mix flour, water, salt, sugar and yeast." Tony read. He opened the packet of flour and poured the entire content onto the counter.

"Less Dad."

But Tony already poured half a packet of yeast onto the flour. He grinned at Peter who was staring at him wide-eyed, long forgetting his perfectly cut pieces of tomato and pepper, and was trying hard to grab the packets out of Tony's hands.

"You want me to use my secret weapon, Pete?" Tony asked, smiling mysteriously, while holding the two packets out of Peter's reach. The boy's eyes widened in horror, as he started to back away from the man.

Tony grinned maniacally, putting the packets on the counter and preparing his white hands covered in flour.

"No. No. NO! DAD DON'T YOU DARE!" Peter said, laughing, a smile emerging on his face, even though he was more than terrified of Tony tickling him. But Tony took him from the sides, and in seconds Peter was flailing his hands helplessly trying to wrestle with the man, laughing hysterically as he was beaten to the ground, his grey shirt covered in flour.

"STOP, STOP, DAAAD, AHHH...PLEASE!!" he wailed. He tried to turn onto his stomach, but he knew that this would leave to Tony having a very easy access to his neck, which would lead him to a very early grave.

He tried to wiggle his way out, trying to find something on the kitchen floor that could help him find hope in his desperation. He had tears in his eyes from the excessive laughing, his whole body hurting from his head to his vulnerable feet from how how it was tormented by Tony's tickling. From between the flour and hair in his eyes he just caught sight of the half empty packet of flour that stood on the counter.

Peter knew exactly what he needed. He grabbed Tony's hand and carefully maneuvered his stomach out of harm's way, and propped himself up onto one knee. Tony was still trying to attack him with one hand, wrestling with Peter.

"Do you surrender?" Tony asked, trying to throw Peter back onto the ground, "who would have thought, that the great Spider-Man is ticklish! I'll tell all the bad guys that the secret weapon to defeating their favorite vigilante is by tickling him!"

Before Peter got tackled to the ground again, with one quick move he grabbed the flour with him, and fell hopelessly to the floor, as Tony expertly grabbed ahold to his neck. Peter was once again laughing crazily, trying hard to fight the man and stand up again.

"AHHHH DAAAD! STOOOP!" he yelled, laying on his stomach, head glued to the floor.
He freed his hands, grasping the packet of flour above his head and with last desperate attempt of saving himself from the evil clutches of one Tony Stark, he threw the flour straight at the man.

The world momentarily stopped.
One second Peter felt as the hands that were tickling his back stopped suddenly.
The next second, he heard a loud yelp of shock and anger, followed by a stream of curses.

Peter sat up and turned around to find Tony Stark covered from top to bottom in flour, eyes blazing with fury and frustration, fists clenched tightly, fuming at him.

"YOU LITTLE SHRIMP! HOW DARE YOU THROW FLOUR AT ME, YOU LITTLE PUNK! AHHH, ITS IN MY FUCKING EYE, AND ITS ALL YOUR GODDAMN FAULT!" Tony yelled. Peter nearly died of laughter, more tears appearing in his eyes, as he dropped to the floor, clutching his stomach, as it hurt from how hard he was madly laughing.

"Look at your face!" he exclaimed.

A second later the team ran in, their expression turning from a frown to laughing hysterically.

"Oh my God! Tony, look at yourself!"

When the laughing died down and Tony got tormented with the team trying to take as many pictures of him, Pepper ran in, face still looking sleepy, frowning in confusion when she saw her future husband white as snow, the team surrounding him with their phones up.

"What's happening here?"

Suddenly, silence filled the room. All heads turned to face Pepper, as the woman seemingly forget that today was her birthday and the reason for all this chaos.

She walked a few steps forward, eyes widening at the sight of Tony.

"What happened to you?!" she exclaimed, "and who in their sane mind would cover the entire kitchen with flour! LOOK AT THIS PLACE, LOOK! Can someone please explain to me, before I completely loose it and strangle that man here, what is going on?!" she shouted, glaring daggers at Tony, who paled even more under Pepper's patronizing glare.

From behind the team, stepped out Peter, hair half-white from the flour, smiling meekly at the woman, who's eyes slightly softened at the sight of her son, who was rocking on his feet, visibly ashamed.

"Well umm...we were...we were...kind of...kind of...well... umm... cooking-" Peter started.

"Trying to cook." Clint corrected.

"Well yeah, and umm... it was all for your birthday, so i guess...Happy Birthday?"

"Oh Peter."

"Oh, that's how it works, huh? Your son threw flour at me, I didn't even do anything!" Tony shouted, annoyed.

"You better shut up, Tony Stark, before I don't find a kitchen knife and decide that I would rather eat your head for lunch!" Pepper exclaimed, pointing a warning finger at him. Tony huffed angrily in response, glaring at Peter, as the boy smiled cheekily back.

"And, you two," Pepper said, looking at Peter and Tony, "are getting a lifetime cooking ban, and a broom and shovel, I want this place clean and spotless."

The team could hardly contain themselves, as they escaped to the balcony, erupting into fits of laughter at the sight of Peter and Tony being scolded by Pepper. They invited the woman to the balcony where they started the party.

Meanwhile, Peter and Tony, broom in hand, got to work cleaning the kitchen.

"On second thought, I think inviting Gordon Ramsey wasn't that bad of an idea." Peter said.

"Well yeah, until you decided that it was terrible." Tony responded, "no Paella, no pizza, looking God knows how long for the right rice for a dish we couldn't even understand a recipe off."

"I'm not cooking with you ever again, Dad. Or shopping. You're terrible. Worse than terrible."

"As if you were any better!"

"Yeah but I do realize that the proportion of flour to salt isn't necessarily 1:1, Dad."

Dad. Dad. He still beamed inside at the word, remembering the first time Peter called him that, leaving the lab sleepily, in a tired haze wishing him goodnight.

It was like a pill for all the chaos that happened around them. The one spark of brightness when the world was crashing and burning around them. The one spec of hope that entered his heart, reminding him for who exactly he was fighting for.

Tony Stark smiled. He was the luckiest man that ever stomped the world.

(A/N:) and...that's the end....the very end....and for me and all of you guys I ended this on a happy note, because I couldn't drown myself and everyone else further into the pits of misery, weeping like crazy.

So I hope you liked it, i know it's been too long and I'm sorry, but here it is, the last chapter. And I'm gonna write way more, I'm currently starting something new, and I'm also looking forward to hearing some fresh ideas from you guys, so if you have anything you wanna read about, write to me, I'm open to requests.

It's been a joy to write this fan fiction, it's actually been a year since the first chapter, so yeah, pretty long journey, and thanks to everyone who sticked from the very beginning.

Wishing everyone a wonderful day, and looking forward to hearing from you all!

AND TONY STARK DESERVES THE WORLD, AND NO CAN CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE, IF SOMEONE DOESN'T SAVE HIM FROM THAT SHIP IN AVENGERS: ENDGAME I WILL DO IT MYSELF.
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One last thing, ( just ignore this, it's just that my friend was being a pain in the ass) specially for Podobaski because she was bugging me about making Peter eat an apple in this chapter for whatever reason, is that yes Peter did eat an apple