Chapter Text
Hello, Mr Stark.
Tony had had those words written along the inside of his left wrist since the moment he was born. It wasn’t something he had ever thought about, it was just a part of him. Just like his mother’s ‘What do you wa- Well hello there.’ and his father’s ‘Oh for heaven’s sake.’ He took it for granted, and never really thought too hard about what, exactly, it was or what it meant.
Then he started school, and he was surrounded by other kids who were fascinated by their soulmarks. Girls would sit in giggling groups secretly showing each other their wrists which were usually covered by the usual soft leather bracelets for people who hadn’t yet met their soulmate. Boys would brag that they knew exactly how they’d meet their soulmate. Teachers had to play constant interference with persistent kids who kept trying to steal each other’s bracelets, trying to sneak a peek at each other’s soulmarks.
That was when Tony realised that the words on his wrist were important, that they were how he would recognise the person who would be his equal and opposite in all things. He clung to the knowledge that there was someone out there who loved him, or would love him, when they finally met. As he became more and more aware of his father’s distance and his mother’s weariness, he held onto the meaning of his soulmark like a lifeline.
And then, when he was almost six, he woke up one morning with another set of words scrawled around his right wrist. Desperately confused, because he’d never heard of anyone having two soulmarks before, he went to his father because his father was the world’s best scientist and scientists were the people who asked questions and figured things out. Maybe his father could figure this out, too.
Excuse me, Mr Stark! I need to- I really need to speak with you-!
When he showed his father, however, all he got was a vaguely dismissive hand wave as his father went back to his work. “That’s normal.” He said absently.
Tony scowled up at him in slightly panicked, indignant confusion. “No it’s not! No one has two!” But Howard wasn’t listening anymore. Feeling horribly betrayed, and like it shouldn’t surprise him anymore even though it did, every time, Tony had kicked him in the shin and run to find his mother.
She, at least, had been more understanding. “Oh, sweetheart.” She’d sighed, with that tired, fond exasperation she always had whenever Tony complained about his dad. “Your father’s just bad at explaining things. It’s not normal for most people, but it is normal for Starks.” She told him, pulling him up onto her lap.
“What?” Tony questioned. “But Dad doesn’t have two.”
Maria flinched. Tony didn’t understand why, but he was distracted by her next words. “He used to. We- we both did.”
“Where did it go, then?” Tony wondered. Maria didn’t say anything for long enough that Tony started fidgeting. “Mom? If you had two soulmarks before, why do you only have one now?” He pressed. Then he saw the tears in his mother’s eyes. “What’s wrong? Mom? I’m sorry! I won’t ask again.” He babbled, not knowing exactly what he did wrong, but panicking all the same.
“No, no. It’s- it’s ok, sweetheart.” Maria assured him, smoothing a hand over his hair. “It’s just… sometimes soulmates die before you get to meet them, Tony. Sometimes, their words just disappear before you get a chance to hear them. That’s what happened to your father and me. We lost them before we met them and it-” Maria sighed. “Things have never been the same since.” She sighed, more to herself than the boy in her lap.
Tony was staring up at her in horror. “I don’t want mine to die before I meet them!” He cried. “Mom, I want to meet them now! That way I can make sure they’re safe! We could do that, right? Like Dad has all those guys watch me to make sure nothing happens, we could do that for them, too, right?!” He babbled.
Maria pulled him into a hug. “Oh, Tony, baby. It doesn’t work like that. You’re going to meet them when you meet them, and nothing’s going to change that. Not even all the wishing in the world.” She sighed.
The tantrum Tony threw that day was one of his worst, and he refused to speak to either of his parents for another week after that. Only Mr Jarvis was permitted to converse with Tony, and that was only because Mr Jarvis was being helpful. He told him there were clues hidden in every soulmark, that there were ways Tony could begin to look, if he wanted. He told him that if a person was born with their soulmark, it meant their soulmate had already been born. If it appeared later, that was the day their soulmate had been born.
Tony got in a lot of trouble with his father that evening for sneaking into the offices, hacking into government records and printing off the names and locations of everyone that had been born in the US over last night. Tony was furious that nobody but him and Mr Jarvis seemed to care that his soulmates were out there, somewhere, unprotected.
Over the next year, Tony drove everyone around him up the wall with his quest to find his soulmates. After a year, however, Tony was forced to admit that his mother had been right. It was going to happen when it was going to happen, and no amount of research into handwriting styles – he was, at least, pretty sure that one of his soulmates was female, that they were both left handed, and that neither of them was going to be a doctor – or birth records was going to get him anywhere closer to meeting his soulmates.
That was the moment that Tony felt the first flicker of resentment for his soulmarks. They were so annoyingly vague. A bland hello and a ‘I need to talk to you’, which could be said by anyone, anywhere. The resentment only grew as classmate after classmate – who were now a year older than him since he’d been moved up a year – asked him why he had two soulmark bracelets, if he was trying to start a new fashion or something, and he was forced to explain that he had two. Always, without fail, they would scoff, tell him to stop lying, and ask if he was just some attention hog. In the end, Tony stopped telling the truth and started lying with a cavalier grin. Yeah, it was a fashion statement. It was all about symmetry. Science had proved that humans found symmetry aesthetically pleasing.
Before long, everyone in the school was wearing matching bracelets, then everyone in New York, and then soulmark bracelets were being sold in pairs nationwide. Tony didn’t know whether to be disgusted by it – because they were all stupid sheep who had no idea – to resent it – because now he wouldn’t even get a clue if he saw someone hiding both wrists – or to be relieved – at least his soulmates wouldn’t suffer the same way he had, they wouldn’t have to make up excuses for wearing two bracelets. His mother insisted it was a good thing, his father didn’t care, and Mr Jarvis thought it was rather entertaining.
Having given up on finding his soulmates, he went back to trying to win his father’s attention, and failing. He built robots, he got bumped up another few years in school. He met a girl in high school whose wrists were bare and lost his virginity to her in the back of his limo because he could, because at least it got his father to look up from his work, even if it was only to shout at Tony. He began to realise that his parents had never really recovered from the loss of their third. They weren’t enough for each other and they knew it, and it turned them cold and bitter. He decided he wasn’t going to get hung up on his soulmarks ever again, and started flirting with any pretty girl – or guy, on occasion – who caught his eye just because he could. Most of them just smiled politely and told him they were sorry, but they were waiting for their soulmate. Some, however, were up for a quick tumble just to say that they’d slept with Tony Stark.
Tony graduated from MIT at seventeen with honours. His father called to congratulate him, which turned into an argument, which resulted in his mother stealing the phone and telling him – in the clipped tone he knew meant she was only minutes away from giving up on her family for the rest of the day – that they were so very proud of him and that they hoped he had fun celebrating. She hung up before he could even say goodbye. Which was a large part of the reason why he was getting thoroughly sloshed at his graduation party – surrounded by people more than five years older than him – a loud and bright center to the celebrations because if he pretended hard enough that he didn’t care, maybe it would make it true. That was when it happened.
“Hello, Mr Stark.”
Tony sat bolt upright and turned to stare at the woman leaning against the bar next to him. She was pretty, he thought appreciatively, with pale skin and dirty blonde hair and large breasts that were almost spilling out of her glittery top. Forcing himself to act cool, Tony grinned at her. “Well hello to you, too.” He greeted, watching her closely.
There was no interest, no curiosity, no spark of anything other than her frank appreciation sweeping his slightly rumpled suit. Tony looked her over again, and his hope died a bitter death when he saw that her wrists were bare and unmarked. “You look like you’re in a mood to celebrate.” The woman remarked, leaning in even closer and smiling, all slow and sensual.
Tony swallowed past his disappointment, threw back the last of his drink, and decided to hell with it. “You know what, I really am.” He told her, fiercely anticipatory. She lit up with triumph when he slid off his barstool and offered a hand. “Want to find a good hotel?”
“Absolutely.”
Two months later, that same woman, Miss Not-My-Soulmate, as Tony had privately nicknamed her in his head, turned up at Stark Manor, and when he finally tore himself away from his tinkering to meet her in the foyer, she stormed straight up to him and smacked him so hard around the face that he stumbled back into a wall. “What the hell?” He demanded, once hand jumping to his stinging cheek as he worked his jaw to ease the ache. Looking up at her, he wished he didn’t have a wall at his back so that he could get even further away from her. She looked like she was gearing up for another smack.
“This is your fault.” She spat at him, gesturing at herself.
Tony blinked at her in complete confusion. “What? Look, lady-” He began.
She cut him off with a sharp, derisive laugh. “You can’t even remember my name, can you?” She asked in disgust.
“Well, no.” Tony lied, rolling his eyes. “I’m Tony Stark, you really think you’re the only busty blonde I’ve fucked in the last couple of months?”
She sneered at him. “You’re disgusting.” She informed him. “You’re going to sign these-” she slapped a small stack of papers against his chest and jabbed a pen at his face “-I’m going to leave and then I’m never going to see your face again.” Tony was far too lost to even begin trying to figure out what was going on. For lack of anything better to do, he took hold of the pen and the papers, and looked down at them.
The entire world seemed to vanish from under him. His brain, which never stopped for a moment, was utterly still and silent, there was a distant ringing in his ears, and he couldn’t quite remember how to breathe. The neat, printed black letters spelling out ‘Voluntary Termination of Parental Rights’ swam in his view as though they were mocking him for not being able to make sense of them.
When he finally managed to force himself to breathe again, the world came back into startling focus, and his brain clicked straight into high gear. “What?” He managed to rasp out, raising his eyes to look at Miss Not-My-Soulmate, whose name was Moira, Tony’s brain helpfully supplied. Moira Lewis, twenty-four, from New Mexico and on a scholarship for the Cognitive Science program at MIT. Moira Lewis, who was still glowering at him and didn’t seem to find any pity for him in his state of distress.
“Sign the damn papers, Stark.” She snapped.
Tony’s brain spun, and he glanced down, only to look up again, frowning. “Why?” He asked.
“Because I wouldn’t trust you with a house plant, let alone a child!” Moira burst out.
“Yeah, well, there’s one thing we agree on.” Tony muttered, looking down at the paper’s to avoid her glare. “Look, you don’t want me interfering in the kids life, believe me, I don’t want to interfere either, but if you drag this through the courts, it’s going to get in the news.” He informed her, finally able to meet her gaze now that he was back on familiar ground. Don’t think about the kid. Don’t think about the kid. The mantra helped, a little, but it also made him want to take another look at Moira’s stomach, which he resisted, just barely. He doubted she’d appreciate it.
“I’ve booked a private hearing with only three officials in attendance, all of whom have signed non-disclosure agreements.” Moira explained sharply. “We go in, we get it done, we get out and never see each other again. You’re familiar with that concept.”
The dig was cheap, and Tony only rolled his eyes at the transparent attempt to upset him. He was plenty upset already, she didn’t need to try any harder. “You’ve gone to a lot of trouble for this.” He remarked, but he was also clicking the pen and moving over to one of the fancy tables sitting in the foyer.
“I want to make sure my child is never tarred with the same brush as you.” Moira informed him coldly. “I want to make sure you don’t get to turn up in fifteen years and drag them into your circus of a life. I want to give my child the best chance to live a good, honest life, and you have no part in that.”
Well, Tony couldn’t exactly argue with that. He thought about his own childhood, the constant attention, the bodyguards, the paparazzi, the backstabbing and false friendships and the betrayals. Feeling resigned and bitter and a little bit relieved, Tony went to sign the papers, and paused. Another memory from his childhood had reared it’s head, and he knew he was going to have to say something to Moira. “What now?” She demanded impatiently.
“I figure you should know.” Tony began coolly, glancing up. “It’s probably going to have two soulmarks.”
Moira snorted. “Right.” She drawled sarcastically. Then she caught the dead serious look on his face and faltered. “You’re not joking. Two soulmarks, really?” She demanded.
“Stark family curse, I guess.” Tony replied with a shrug that was not at all as casual as it pretended to be. “Just… if they do, don’t treat them like a freak, ok? Make sure they know they’re loved, no matter what, alright?” He asked, and he couldn’t quite hide the raw vulnerability in his voice.
For the first time that day, Moira softened a little. “No matter what.” She agreed solemnly. Smiling at her in a way that was more pain than anything else, Tony nodded and signed away his parental rights.
Four years later Tony’s parents died in a car crash, and suddenly, Tony had a company to run and Obadiah all but smothering him and the press clamouring for his reaction to this tragedy. It took everything Tony had to keep from informing the world that he felt it was good riddance to the old bastard. And the part of him that felt that didn’t stop him grieving, and he hated his father even more for that. What was worse was that Edwin Jarvis died only a few weeks later, and Tony was left to wrestle with the guilt of grieving more for his butler than his parents.
The next several months were a blur of alcohol, fast cars, and loose women. He worked too much and partied too hard. More and more, he found himself burying his head in coding new software without really letting himself think about exactly what he was doing until he tested it all one more time for errors and nothing came up. Suddenly feeling a little nervous, he clicked the compile-and-run button and waited, heart in his throat.
“Good afternoon, Mr Stark.”
Tony laughed in pure delight. “Hey, JARVIS.” He greeted.
“Do you require any assistance?” JARVIS asked blankly.
That would change, Tony knew. He’d written all the code. Made sure JARVIS could learn, could expand his own parameters, could develop things like empathy or a sense of humour if he felt like it. “All the time, J.” He answered, still laughing. “But never mind that right now. How’re you feeling? Everything running ok?”
There was a moment of silence. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. That’s good. Great. You’re going to be so awesome, JARVIS, just you wait and see. You’re going to be amazing.”
Another silence that Tony was started to suspect was JARVIS trying to parse his slang into something computer code could understand. “Thank you, sir.” JARVIS replied without feeling. But that would change. And if Tony’s laughter started to sound a little more like sobbing, well, JARVIS wasn’t going to judge.
More months ticked by, and Tony steadied out a little. He continued to work on JARVIS, adding more and more to him every time an idea struck, but it wasn’t obsessive like it was before. And JARVIS always reminded him to sleep and eat at appropriate intervals. He stopped getting quite so black-out drunk at parties, stopped driving at twice the speed limit and settled for just breaking it a little. Stopped fucking his way through any and every attractive person that entered his line of sight and started flirting just for the sake of flirting again.
During that time, his heart stopped jumping pathetically every time someone said ‘Hello, Mr Stark.’ because now, it seemed everyone was calling him that. Everyone was catching his attention that way, but no one’s eyes lit up with his reply, no one started gushing about finding their soulmate. They had absolutely no idea what they were doing to him. But even the repeated disappointments couldn’t stop him eyeing each and every one with curiosity. More often than not, he took them to bed anyway, just because he could.
So when he interrupted a business associate to ask him “And who’s this delightful creature?”, and said delightful creature, apparently called Lucy Silvers, replied with a flirtatious look and a teasing “Hello, Mr Stark,” it was just business as usual. Her handshake was firm, and he took a moment to eye her wrists. No soulmark-bracelets, because there were no marks to cover. Just a smooth expanse of soft, pale skin with the faintest tracery of blue veins. Tony decided he wanted to get his mouth on them at some point in the future.
He took his time giving the rest of her an appreciative once-over. Black strappy heels and toenails painted an emerald green to match the highlights of her dress. It was a slinky, black number with a slit reaching to half way up her thigh and showed off the green lining, an asymmetrical hem, no back or sides save for three delicate golden chains he could see disappearing around her ribs, and a v-neck that was showing plenty of cleavage. Her fingernails matched her toenails, and they both matched her eyes, and her hair matched her shoes; a satiny black that fell in soft curls around her shoulders and outlined her long, elegant neck.
The only things that didn’t match the theme were the two tattoos on her chest. One was about the size of a chestnut, sitting directly over the hollow at the base of her throat, above her collarbones. It was a circle full of sweeping, curling lines that looked strangely like fire, especially given the soft, mottled yellow-orange-pink colour of the lines. The colours of a sunrise, Tony thought curiously, though the pattern was more like sunlight on water. The other was as large as Tony’s fist, a bright electronic blue, peeking out from underneath the neckline of her dress from where it sat half on, but a little above, her left breast. The geometric lines and curves and angles looked oddly familiar to Tony, but he couldn’t really place them. They made him think about blueprints and designs and made his fingers itch to get back to work.
He couldn’t help but comment. “Nice Gallifreyan.” He remarked with a nod towards her chest as he tucked his hand back in his pocket. Hers, on the other hand, jumped to her chest as she tried – and failed – to look down to see what he was talking about.
“Oh, the sigils.” She realised after a moment. Then she shot Tony an amused but baffled little look from under her eyelashes. “Gallifreyan?”
“Don’t watch Doctor Who, then?” Tony questioned, even though the answer was obvious.
“Ah, no.” Lucy shook her head. “I don’t have much time for television.”
“You’re missing out.” Tony informed her. “Your tats just reminded me of the written language of the Time Lords. Well, the blue one, anyway. The orange one’s a little too swirly to be Gallifreyan. You called them sigils?” He questioned, half to make conversation, half because he was genuinely curious.
“Yes. Old charms that superstitious people once believed brought luck and love and money and all that ridiculousness. I just thought they looked pretty.” Lucy explained, reaching up to trace her fingers along the edge of the blue one in a way that had Tony’s eyes dropping to her fingers, and then to her cleavage, and then snapping up to her face again before she could get offended. Her eyes, when he looked back at them, were a little unfocused.
“Looks like they’ve got a little more meaning than just being pretty.” Tony probed teasingly.
Lucy snapped back to the present, and shot him a look that dared him to try harder. “Come now, Mr Stark, I don’t spill all my secrets to strange men the moment they ask.” She replied, eyes sparkling with mischief.
“I always did like a challenge.” Tony riposted, and he saw a flash of more intent interest in her eyes. His breath caught a little at that hint of something predatory and he decided that this one was worth pursuing beyond a little casual flirting. If he couldn’t get her to go home with him tonight, he was definitely getting her number.
“I shall do my best to be challenging, then.” Lucy replied, like she meant every word and expected to enjoy keeping her promise immensely.
Tony wanted. He grinned, not the one he usually showed women he wanted to bed that was all flash and dazzle and charm. This one was the one he usually wore when he was driving down empty roads at 200 miles an hour and knew he could die at any moment and was loving the thrill of it all. It was a little bit feral and a little too sharp for polite company. Lucy didn’t look like she minded. “I somehow doubt you’ll find it very hard.” Tony mused.
“I somehow doubt you’ll mind.” Lucy shot back.
Tony didn’t talk to anyone else all evening, and he hadn’t had as much fun in a very long time. He learnt a lot of interesting little titbits about her; she loved books, was well versed in mythology, read people easily, knew her sciences, had some very opinionated views on politics that had a delightfully Machiavellian bent to them, and she had a very strong sweet tooth. But any time he tried to ask about her past, she fed him some ridiculously vague half-truth and skilfully redirected the conversation. He managed to figure out that she had sibling, though he was still unsure as to the number, and that she’d been very well educated, but in what, or by whom, he still didn’t know, and that her family was very, very wealthy, though how they came by that money, she never said.
It was a dance – and they did a little bit of that, too, when the event allowed – that Tony thoroughly enjoyed. The mystery of her was enticing, and she played the game so skilfully he found he didn’t even mind too much when she ran circles around him and left him wondering when they’d changed the subject and why he’d never gotten an answer to his question.
For just a little while that evening, he managed to forget his grief, and while it left him feeling a little guilty afterwards, it wasn’t nearly enough to deny himself more time with Lucy. He made his invitation at the end of the evening, but she didn’t come home with him, nor did he get her number. However, she did take his and promise to be in touch.
The waiting was torture, but he didn’t have to wait long, since she called him the very next day. He was in the middle of tinkering with an old car he’d just bought at some charity auction thing, while also teaching JARVIS a little about prejudice, when his mobile buzzed in his pocket and made him jump. “Hold that thought, J.” He instructed casually as he struggled to extract his phone and answer it. “Hello?”
“Mr Stark.” Lucy’s voice sounded different over the phone, but still recognisable.
“You have my personal phone number, Lucy, I think we’re safely in first-name territory now.” He pointed out, grinning up at the underside of the car’s engine.
“And if I prefer to call you Mr Stark?” Lucy wondered innocently.
Tony bit his lip to keep from laughing at the idea that anything about Lucy was innocent. “I’d have to wonder if maybe I’d be wasting my time asking you out to dinner.” He remarked.
“Oh, that was quick.” Lucy said with a chuckle.
“I saw an opening and I took it.” Tony replied, unrepentant.
“Evidently.” Lucy drawled, and then went quiet. Tony felt the beginnings of disappointment and – strangely and a little alarmingly – hurt curl in his chest. “I confess, I’m wondering somewhat about your intentions, Tony.” Lucy said finally, and the disappointment vanished as quickly as it had come with her use of his first name. “Asking me out to dinner sounds a little more long-term than what I originally thought you were hoping for.”
Tony took a moment to think about that, then shrugged to himself. “I don’t really know. I just know I like your company, and would really like to put my mouth on you at some point.” He announced without an ounce of shame.
He was rewarded with a laugh that sounded like it had been surprised out of her, and was all the more genuine for it. “In that case I think our intentions may be somewhat compatible.” Lucy replied, sounding delighted.
“Only somewhat?” Tony teased.
“I do find your company mildly entertaining.” Lucy agreed with an air of mock-thoughtfulness.
Tony gave a dramatic gasp. “You wound me.” He complained.
“Oh, if only.” Lucy hummed.
“Ah! Cruel!” Tony accused.
Lucy gave a distinctly wicked sounding chuckle that sent pleasant shivers down Tony’s spine. “You already know me so well.” She purred, dark and full of promise.
“And suddenly, I’m even more interested in getting to know you a hell of a lot better.” Tony replied, aware and not caring that he sounded a little breathless.
“We’ll have to work on that over dinner then.” Lucy agreed mildly, and Tony felt for a moment like he was fifteen again, with the urge to punch the air and whoop. It was a little ridiculous, but he was enjoying himself too much to care.
“The things I’m thinking of learning aren’t really appropriate for the dinner table, but I’m sure I could manage dinner first.” Tony entreated.
“Nice try, Mr Stark.” Lucy replied.
Despite her words, dinner at a very upscale restaurant two days later did end with the both of them naked in Tony’s bed. Lying there, with Lucy’s warm, naked form pressed up against him, Tony thought he might be able to sleep without an alcoholic assist for the first time since his parents died. “JARVIS, lights.” He instructed, and the lights dimmed to just enough that the room wasn’t pitch black.
“What is ‘JARVIS’?” Lucy asked idly, sleepy and content.
“Oh, right, I haven’t introduced you. Lu, meet JARVIS, my electronic babysitter. J, this is Lucy Silvers.” Tony said, gesturing in the air with one hand that only JARVIS would be able to see with his motion sensors.
“Hello, Miss Silvers.” JARVIS greeted.
Tony felt Lucy shift and sit up a little beside him. “Hello, JARVIS. It’s good to meet you.”
“And you.” JARVIS replied, and Tony was stupidly proud of the little note of sincerity in that electronic voice.
“You sound very human, JARVIS.” Lucy commented, and Tony stilled beneath her. He thought he saw her look at him even in the darkness, and felt her hair brush his chest with the movement of her head. It tickled again when she looked back in the vague direction of the rest of the room. “It’s impressive.”
“Thank you, Miss Silvers. Mr Stark has been teaching me a great deal about humanity and communication. It is good to know that I am improving.” JARVIS announced simply.
Lucy was silent for a moment. When she next spoke, she sounded thoroughly impressed. “You are self-aware.” She stated more than asked.
“Yes.” JARVIS replied anyway, perhaps sensing the question in the subtext. Tony was suddenly remembering every movie he’d ever watched where AIs gained sentience and decided to subjugate-or-kill humanity, and wondered, with fear crawling up his throat, how Lucy was going to react to JARVIS.
He felt Lucy’s hand on his chest, followed by her hair, and then her breath on his neck as she lay back down, nestled against his side. “Don’t panic, Tony.” She chided. “I think he is remarkable.” She informed him softly, and Tony relaxed and allowed himself to fairly glow with pride. “You are remarkable. And clever far, far beyond your time.” She added, which sobered Tony up, not because of her words, but the tone she said them in. She sounded wistful and longing and sad.
“What’s so bad about that?” Tony asked reaching up to run a finger over her cheek.
Lucy sighed, and he felt it across his collar. “It makes me want you far too much.”
“I’m right here, maybe not quite ready to go again, but gimme five-” Tony replied flippantly.
Lucy pinched him. Hard. “That is not what I mean and you know it.” She informed him. Her fingers moved from his ribs to his arm, and then his wrist. Tony went still as she traced her fingers along the edge of his soulmark bracelet. “I want you, in ways I cannot have you. You are spoken for, or will be, and I won’t be here for long.”
Tony had his mouth open and words on the tip of his tongue when the last part of that comment registered, and he paused, frowning. “Please tell me that wasn’t meant to be as ominous as it sounded.”
Lucy snorted. “No. My apologies. I just meant that I’ll be leaving America soon.”
“Oh.” Tony murmured, an odd mixture of relief and disappointment settling inside him. “Where are you headed? And when?”
“…Norway. And I don’t know exactly when, but… I shouldn’t actually be here anyway. I suppose I’m running away, a little, or at least allowing myself the illusion of escape …” Tony felt her sigh, shrug, and then nuzzle her face into his shoulder. “Days, weeks, I don’t know. But soon, I’ll have to go home.” She concluded.
Tony thought about that, and stubbornly squashed the ache in his chest at the thought of her leaving. It was ridiculous. He’d only known her for a couple of days. And it wasn’t like she was his actual soulmate. “Well, then.” He began, voice a little rough, but not anything that gave away how much he already didn’t like the idea of her leaving. “We’ll just have to make the most of the time we’ve got.” He announced, rolling over so that he was hovering over Lucy in the dark, forearms resting against the bed and bracketing her ribs.
In the faint light, he saw her smile before she lifted her head to kiss him.
Lucy stayed for breakfast, chatted with JARVIS like no one except Tony ever did, scolded Tony on his eating habits – or lack thereof – and only left when JARVIS announced that Obadiah was at the door and pestering Tony to get to work. Tony called her and invited her back over the next day for a Doctor Who marathon, which devolved into a frighteningly serious discussion on the possibility of time travel.
One date led to another. They went out to the theatre, which Lucy enjoyed immensely, despite keeping up a running critique of the actors which was ruthless but surprisingly not cruel. She sounded, for the most part, like a slightly exasperated teacher. They spent a day in Tony’s lab, which was one of his most productive days since he’d built JARVIS. Lucy demanded Tony take her shopping, and Tony discovered that she was a complete diva about her clothes. The ones she eventually picked were, he had to admit, absolutely breathtaking, and resulted in Tony bribing some of the retailers to politely not notice how rumpled the pair of them were when they left the changing rooms.
The anniversary of Tony’s parents death came and went, and Tony mourned by retreating to his lab and blowing stuff up in the name of science, getting steadily drunker until Lucy showed up. And then he stopped drinking because Lucy was helping him blow things up, and the helpless rage and bitter grief stopped feeling like it was about to drown him. It didn’t stop hurting, but he felt like maybe he could make it out the other side now. When the anniversary of Edwin’s death came along, Tony actually asked Lucy to keep him company, and they spent the day on Tony’s sofa, drinking too much alcohol and watching crappy television.
Weeks passed by, and before Tony knew it, it had been over three months, and Lucy still showed no signs of leaving. He didn’t ask, though, because he didn’t want to remind her she’d been planning to leave if she had forgotten. He pushed aside thoughts of the future and the ticking timer counting away his days with Lucy, and just enjoyed what he had while he had it.
Eventually, however, the day came where Lucy left, and it hit with a bigger shockwave than Tony could ever have expected. He woke up one morning to find the bed empty beside him, and Lucy pacing up and down on the balcony in the early morning light. She was in little more than her underwear, which couldn’t be comfortable, but the cold didn’t seem to be bothering her. She just continued to pace.
Tony got up, pulled on some clothes – because Lucy might be out of her mind but Tony didn’t want to freeze his nipples off, thank you – and stepped outside. Even with clothes on, the air was chilled enough to bite as well as a little damp with early morning mist. “Lu? You’re gonna freeze out here.”
Lucy actually startled, and that’s when Tony realised that something was really wrong. He’d never been able to sneak up on her before. “I’m fine.” She said distractedly, after taking a moment to register what Tony had said.
“Obviously not.” Tony retorted, crossing the balcony to put his hands on her bare arms. Despite feeling cold to the touch, there were no goosebumps or shivers to indicate chill, so Tony guessed she would be okay for a little while. “What’s wrong?”
“I fucked up.” Lucy breathed, closing her eyes.
Tony would have smiled if he hadn’t still been worried. “Because this is the first time either one of us has done that.” He remarked, and when Lucy glared at him for his flippancy, he started stroking her arms. “Come on, stop angsting and spill already, and then we can move onto the fixing-it portion of the program.”
Lucy’s lips curled in a bitter twist that spoke volumes and told Tony she thought he was being sickeningly naïve. Worry flared again. “How, exactly, do you intend to fix the fact that I’m pregnant?” She asked sharply.
Tony stilled in shock, his heart doing something funny in his chest that made it a little hard to breathe. It reminded him of another revelation like this, but the sensation was worlds apart, despite being of equal world-shattering effect. He had to focus for several minutes to keep himself steady and actually think, but he managed it because if there was one thing that wasn’t a complete mess about Tony Stark, it was his brain. “Do you want to abort?” He asked carefully, doing his best not to sound like he had an opinion one way or the other, despite the way he felt strangely miserable at the thought.
It took Lucy a moment to catch up, and then she wrenched herself out of his hold in disgusted alarm, like he’d suggested beating a sack of kittens to death with a rusty crowbar. She actually looked like she might throw up for a moment. “No.” She spat out, glaring at him.
“Okay.” Tony breathed, hands up in a placating manner. “Not saying you have you or anything. Jeez, I’m not that awful. It’s just… I wanted to make sure we were both on the same page. No abortion. Okay. Good.” He rambled. Sometimes dealing with Lucy could feel like facing down a temperamental jungle cat. He really hoped his babbling was going to calm her because he didn’t think he could handle her throwing a fit when he himself was barely hanging on to his rationality. Don’t think about it. He ordered himself sharply when his mind veered a little too close to everything he was resolutely not thinking about.
Thankfully, some of the confrontational bristling faded from Lucy’s stance, and she swallowed hard as she looked away from him, wrapping her arms around herself in a way that Tony didn’t think was entirely because of the cold. “I know that that’s an option here, but I- No. I’m not going to murder my child.” She vowed, eyes coming back up and flashing dangerously.
“Technically it’s not murder-” Tony began, and all of that angry energy came back to Lucy. “Which is totally not the point, okay, I get it.” He changed tack quickly. “Are you going to keep it, then?” He asked.
All at once, the fight drained out of her and she curled in on herself, face twisted in a pained mask as her shoulders came up as if to ward off a blow. “I can’t.”
“Can’t?” Tony pressed, gentle and wary as he closed the distance between them again and pulled Lucy back into his arms. She went willingly, dropping her forehead against his chest and shuddering slightly.
“My father won’t let me.” She stated in a whisper. “I- I’d rather not even tell him. He…” She paused, then snorted with dark, derisive mirth. “Doesn’t approve of the fact I’m a woman, let alone doing anything so female as bearing a child.”
“What an asshole.” Tony muttered. Lucy gave a non-committal hum, and Tony didn’t press the issue. They both had their problems with their fathers, and they’d learned early on not to push too hard when those particular issues reared their ugly heads. “So.” Tony said, bringing himself back to the issue at hand. “Adoption, then?”
“I suppose it will have to be.” Lucy sighed.
Tony was glad she didn’t raise the idea of him keeping the child. Even just the thought had panic clawing it’s way up his throat, so he shook it off. What he couldn’t shake off quite so easily was the tiny twinge of sorrow he felt. “Lets-” He stalled, and tried again. “Lets keep it private, yeah? No public system. I’m sure we can find some people who want a kid and can’t have one for whatever reason.”
Lucy nodded, took a breath. “I think you’ll have to handle that. I’ve not been networking here like I should have.” She admitted, then glanced up with a hint of her usual spark of mischief. “Someone has been distracting me.”
“What a bastard.” Tony mused, playing along.
“Oh, he is.” Lucy agreed solemnly. “The absolute worst.” She shook her head in mock sorrow. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with him.” She sighed.
Tony pretended to think. “I think you should take him back to bed and teach him some manners.” He suggested.
Lucy arched an eyebrow at him, but she didn’t look worried or scared anymore, so Tony counted that as a win. In fact, she looked amused as she eyed him up and down, assessing him. “You know, I think I’ll take you up on that.” She decided, and slipped past him to head inside. Without looking back, she raised a hand and beckoned him with a finger over her shoulder. Grinning widely, Tony went.
The next morning over breakfast, Lucy forced him to sit down so that they could make an actual plan. “I think I ought to go home while I can still hide it.” She opened with. Tony started to speak, but Lucy cut him off. “Then I will come back to America, have the baby, and I can deliver them to their parents, whom you will find while I’m gone.” She concluded.
Tony nodded and took a deep breath. “I’m not going to see you again after this, am I?” He asked with a small twist of dark humour in his voice.
“No.” Lucy confirmed.
Tony allowed himself a moment to digest that and wrestle with the part of him that ached at the thought of never seeing Lucy again. “I’ll miss you.” He blurted out, then grimaced at himself as he ducked his head to hide his embarrassment.
Lucy laughed at him, not unkindly, and reached across the table to lift his chin with a finger. “I’ll remember you.” She said, with enough emphasis that Tony understood it wasn’t an idle promise, and yes, he liked that a lot better than how vulnerable ‘I’ll miss you’ made him sound.
“Yeah, that.” He agreed.
That afternoon, Lucy left, and within a few days Obadiah was making comments about how it was nice to see Tony again, and Rhodey was hovering like he expected an explosion, and Tony realised that maybe he’d gotten a little more wrapped up in Lucy than he’d thought. That revelation didn’t stop him from obsessing maybe a little bit too much with finding a suitable home for the kid to go to. He didn’t want to advertise that he’d knocked someone up – again – and was looking for someone to adopt the kid, so he was reduced to listening to gossip, which was painful, but he endured it because he really didn’t want his kid winding up in the foster system.
Relief came in the form of Richard Parker, an old buddy from MIT. And when Tony said buddy he meant one of the few people who didn’t either hate him or fawn over him, but tolerated him with neutrality, and was therefore one of the only people Tony actually had fond memories of. Tony heard on the grapevine his wife had been in an accident of some sort and was devastated because blunt force trauma to the stomach meant she was unlikely to ever conceive.
Tony dug into everything he could find on Richard and Mary Parker on the internet, and decided that they were good enough. No ties to anything unsavoury – except Oscorp, because yeuch – or illegal, no glaring domestic problems, a good support network and lots of friends and colleagues, and steady, well-paying jobs for the both of them.
Since he wanted to keep this as private as possible, Tony took one of his two-seater cars that could do three hundred miles an hour if he really pushed it, and pulled up outside Oscorp just as Richard was leaving at the end of the day. He wound down the window and knocked his sunglasses down to peer over the top of them as he leaned over and flashed a grin. “Hey, Dick.” He greeted.
Richard gave him an exceptionally deadpan stare. “Stark.” He replied drolly.
“Need a ride?”
“What are you, fifteen?”
“That’s what Rhodey keeps telling me, so it must be true.”
Richard considered him for a moment. “If I say no, you’re not going to leave me alone, are you?” He asked in resignation.
“Nope.” Tony replied, popping the ‘p’ obnoxiously. With a sigh and a look to the heavens, probably to pray for patience, Richard got in the car and tucked his briefcase in the well at his feet. Tony barely gave him time to put the seatbelt on before he was zipping out onto the road again as fast as he could in New York traffic.
“What do you want, Stark?” Richard asked after five minutes.
Tony ignored him until they were on emptier roads where he could drive a little faster, despite Richard’s growing tension. “So I heard your wife can’t have kids anymore?” He asked bluntly, because his emotions were a little too turbulent for anything tactful.
Richard cut a look at him across the car that was one part hard wariness, and one part open sorrow. “The doctors keep telling her to have hope, but we’re both biologists, we know there isn’t much hope.” He stated coolly.
“Yeah, I figured as much. You sound bummed about that. You thought of adopting?” He asked, not taking his eyes off the road, and upping the speed a little bit to help bleed off the edge of nervous energy that was starting to get to him.
“…We’ve thought about it. Why?”
“Cause I may have knocked up this lady who won’t abort but can’t keep it?” Tony confessed without any actual shame.
Silence swelled for long enough that Tony chanced a glance over at Richard, who looked stunned. “You… you’re asking me to raise your kid?” He asked, in a tone that suggested he really didn’t know what to make of Tony’s offer.
Tony pulled a face. “That makes you sound like some sort of long-term babysitter. No. I’m asking if you want them to be your kid.” He corrected.
“You’re absolutely sure you don’t want to keep them, then?” Richard asked quietly.
Tony barked out an incredulous laugh. “Hah. Have you met me? Ha-ha. Good one, Dick.” He said with scathing humour. When Richard only continued to look at him patiently through those ridiculous glasses of his, Tony rolled his eyes and answered him seriously. “No, me having anything to do with a kid would be a disaster. This would be a proper adoption. They’d be yours. I don’t want any rights or responsibilities or shit like that. The kid’ll be better for it.”
“That’s a lot to give up.” Richard remarked.
“For someone like you maybe.” Tony retorted without much heat. “Me? I’m just a fuck-up. A genius, but a complete fuck-up. I’d ruin a kid. Better they have as little to do with me as possible.”
“…Have you always been so self-loathing?” Richard asked, frowning a little.
“What are you talking about? I love me.” Tony deflected.
Richard gave him a look that said he wasn’t buying it for a second, but then he let it go and nodded. “I’ll have to talk to Mary about it, but I- I think she’s going to want to.” He announced, smiling a little. “Thank you, Stark.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Tony brushed the thanks aside, and turned the car towards Richard’s home. It wasn’t long before they were pulling up outside the cute little house, and Tony thought with a tiny pang of longing that it looked like a pretty awesome place to grow up. It was as Richard was undoing his seatbelt that Tony remembered. “Oh, hey, Dick.” He said quickly, and Richard paused. “Quick thing; this kid will probably have messed up soulmarks. Two of them.” He corrected, and saw Richard’s eyebrows fly up. “That’s not gonna be a problem, is it?” He asked, something a little hard, a little protective slipping into his voice without his permission.
Richard studied him, then smiled faintly. “Not in the slightest, Stark. If Mary’s willing, they’ll have a good home with us. I promise you that.”
“Yeah, ok, good.” Tony acknowledged, nodding. He waited until Richard was out of the car before leaning out of his window and saying “I’ll be in touch. Or Lucy will. Or both of us. I don’t know. It’s still a bit up in the air.”
“Alright. Hopefully I’ll speak to you later then, Stark.” Richard replied, nodding.
“Later.” Tony tossed a casual wave in Richard’s direction as he revved the car and shot off down the street, leaving a slightly bemused Richard to go and explain the situation to his wife.
Four months later, Tony introduced Richard to Lucy, who was hiding her baby bump with uncharacteristically loose clothing, and with all the finality of a guillotine, Tony’s life went back to normal. The only difference to life post-Lucy was that, six months down the line, in a drunken fit of angst on the anniversary of his parent’s death, Tony had JARVIS check up on his two children. The two that he knew existed, anyway.
He found out that night that he had a daughter, Darcy Lewis, who had turned six that year, and a son, Peter Parker, who was still only three months old. There wasn’t a name for whatever emotion was spinning a vortex in Tony’s gut, but it wasn’t pleasant, and he broke most of the plates and bowls and glasses in his kitchen in an attempt to vent it, but it didn’t work. In the end, lying on the floor of the kitchen, uncaring of the broken ceramics he was lying on, Tony told JARVIS to set up two college funds in Darcy and Peter’s names, and to have the bank send the information to Moira and Richard, respectively.
The next morning, he told JARVIS to keep track of Darcy and Peter and anywhere they popped up on the internet and put it all in a securely locked folder, along with the details of those accounts he’d set up. He then decided that he would never look at that folder again. Except, of course, when he was miserable and drunk and felt like punishing himself.