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Tony and Rhodey had, as usual, spent the first half of their winter break at Stark Manor. And it was time to leave before Tony went insane.
The boys were trapped in between Mrs. Jarvis handing over a container of cookies, and Obie insisting they make a new years resolution to stay out of trouble when Peggy walked over with Sharon perched on her hip.
Sharon clung to her, lower lip stuck out. “But why do you have to go now?” she asked Tony, her voice wobbling dangerously close to tears.
“Because,” Tony said, leaning in to flick her nose gently, “if I spend one more night in this house, I’ll go mad. Don’t worry, Rockstar. You’ll see me again before you know it.”
She pouted. “Not soon enough.”
Tony didn’t notice the calculation in her eyes as Peggy set her down. He just ruffled her hair, gave a breezy “later, kid,” and turned back to Rhodey, already talking about how fast they could ditch his dad’s place and head to Philly.
The second everyone went back to talking, Sharon slipped away. Tiny feet pattered up the staircase, down the hall, into Tony’s room. His half-packed suitcase still lay open on the bed, and Sharon grinned to herself.
“Mission: Tony Time,” she whispered. “Step One. Complete.”
She wriggled into the suitcase with surprising efficiency for someone so small, curling herself between rumpled clothes, spare Walkman batteries, and a mess of wires. She cringed at the too-strong smell of cologne, then tugged the flap down, zipped it almost shut, and settled in like a cat.
By the time Jarvis carried the luggage out to the car, no one noticed one particular suitcase was just a little too heavy.
The train rattled along the tracks, the kind of dull, endless noise that made everything feel even slower. Rhodey sat by the window with a book open, trying to ignore Tony, who was slouched across from him, sunglasses on, looking way too pleased with himself.
"I spy," Tony announced, drawling like this was the most serious game of his life, "something… green."
Rhodey sighed, glancing out the window. "Trees? Is it trees? Because that's the only thing there is out here."
"Okay, rude. Could at least pretend to be interested. Some best friend you are."
Rhodey laughed. "I hate you."
Before Tony could respond, the suitcase wedged between them gave a suspicious little thump.
Both boys froze.
Tony lifted his head. “…Did you hear that?”
Rhodey frowned. “Yeah. Sounded like it came from your bag.”
The zipper began to peel back. A tiny tuft of blonde curls appeared, followed by a triumphant little face. Sharon wriggled out, grinning ear to ear.
“Step Two: Complete!” she announced.
Tony nearly fell off the seat. “WHAT THE—Sharon?!”
Rhodey choked on his own spit. “Oh, hell no.”
Sharon climbed onto the seat beside Tony, still grinning like she’d just won a medal. “I did it! You didn’t even see me!”
Tony pressed both hands to his face. “OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, WE’RE DEAD. I’M DEAD. YOU’RE DEAD. EVERYONE’S DEAD."
Rhodey's voice went high with panic. "What the hell is she doing here?!"
Tony’s hands were flapping wildly. “I don’t know, I don’t know, oh god, Aunt Peggy’s going to kill me. And then my dad’s going to kill me for getting killed.. Ohhhh god.”
Sharon blinked up at him innocently. “I wanted more Tony Time.”
Rhodey ran both hands over his face. “This is it. This is how I end up in prison. They’re gonna put me on death row. ‘What’s your crime, Rhodes?’ Oh, just existing as a Black guy in 1986 with two random white kids on a train—one of whom is four years old and clearly missing from her actual guardian!”
Tony whirled on him. “Don’t say that! You can’t say that! It makes it real!”
Meanwhile Sharon had already stolen Rhodey’s sunglasses from the table, shoved them on her tiny face, and was digging through Tony’s suitcase. “What’s this?” she asked, holding up a little pouch of powder.
Tony practically launched across the seat to snatch it away. “Nothing! Definitely nothing you should be touching!”
Rhodey's eyes widened, he shot Tony the most murderous glare he could muster. “You brought that on the train?! With a toddler?!”
Tony sputtered. "You—You're acting like I fucking told her to come. Like I brought her. I didn't bring her! She brought herself! How was I supposed to know she'd sneak into my luggage?!"
Sharon sat back down, leaning against Tony, kicking her feet happily. “I’m a stowaway. Like a pirate!”
Tony dragged his hands down his face. “No, you’re like a walking obituary. My obituary. Do you know what your aunt is going to do to me when she finds out?”
“Say thank you?” Sharon suggested.
Rhodey barked out a laugh that was mostly hysteria. "How do I get myself into these situations…"
Tony pointed at Sharon, then at himself. “Do you see this? Do you see the stress you’ve caused? I was supposed to have a relaxing holiday where I eat Mama Rhodes’s cooking and ignore my parents’ calls. Now? Now I’m harboring a fugitive toddler.”
“I’m not a toddler,” Sharon corrected primly, pushing Rhodey’s sunglasses up on her tiny nose. “I’m four. That’s practically grown-up.”
Tony groaned and sunk into his seat.
Rhodey leaned forward, whisper-shouting. “Okay. Okay. This is fine. This is gonna be fine. We just… we just call your aunt. Tell her she’s safe. No big deal.”
Tony snapped upright. “NO! Are you insane? That’s the worst idea!”
“Why?!”
“Because if I call her, I confess to a crime! And then she shows up here and rips my spleen out with her bare hands!”
Sharon hummed thoughtfully. “I don’t think she’d do that. She likes you.”
Tony gave her a hollow look. “Not that much, shortstack.”
Rhodey threw up his hands. “So what do you suggest, genius?!”
“Obviously we… uh…” Tony’s voice trailed as he stared at Sharon, who was now happily braiding headphone wires into her curls. “We… hide her until Philly.”
Rhodey’s voice cracked. “Hide her?!”
“Yeah, just… keep her out of sight! Your mom will know what to do.”
“Tony, you’re trying to smuggle a child like she’s contraband!”
Sharon, chipper as ever, wriggled in her seat. “Mission: Tony Time. Step Three: Don’t Get Caught.”
Rhodey buried his face in his hands. “I hate my life.”
By the time the train screeched into Philly, Tony had gone through all five stages of grief. Twice. Rhodey, on the other hand, looked like he’d aged ten years in four hours.
Sharon bounced off the train platform like she was on parade, her little hand wrapped tight around Tony’s. Sunglasses still on, chewing on gum Tony swore he didn’t even remember owning.
“Act natural,” Tony hissed.
Rhodey shot him a murderous glare. “Natural?! I’m bringing home a four-year-old! To my mother! How exactly do I act natural about that?”
“Like this,” Tony said, straightening his jacket and strolling ahead like he wasn't smuggling a child across state lines. “Cool, casual, debonair. You gotta commit to the bit.”
Rhodey hissed after him, “This isn’t a bit, this is a felony!”
Sharon skipped between them, completely unbothered. “Felonies are bad, right?”
“Yes!” Rhodey said, voice cracking.
Tony ruffled her curls. “Eh, bad’s a strong word.”
“TONY.”
They turned the corner and there it was: the Rhodes townhouse, golden light glowing through the windows, Mama Rhodes standing in the doorway with her arms folded. She brightened when she saw her son—and then her eyes narrowed at the sight of the pint-sized stowaway clutching Tony’s hand.
“James,” she said, slow and deliberate, “what. Is. This?”
Tony puffed up like he was about to sell stock. “This,” he declared, “is your early Christmas gift! Limited run, can’t get her in stores.”
“TONY.”
Sharon tilted the sunglasses down her nose. “Surprise, I live here now.”
Mama Rhodes arched one eyebrow so high it could’ve cut glass. She turned to her son. “James.”
Rhodey, sweating bullets, stammered, “Okay, listen—it’s not what it looks like—”
Mama Rhodes didn’t blink. Didn’t move. Just stood there, arms folded, eyebrow sharp enough to be classified as a weapon.
Rhodey’s mouth opened and closed like a goldfish. “See, what happened was—”
Tony cut in smoothly, throwing an arm around Sharon’s shoulders. “She missed me. Can you blame her? I’m charming, I’m irresistible, I’m basically a jungle gym with a trust fund—”
“Anthony Edward Stark,” Mama Rhodes snapped, “shut your mouth.”
Tony did.
Sharon, still chewing her mystery gum, chirped, “Mission: Tony Time. Step Three: Meet the Family.”
Mama Rhodes’ eyes softened just a fraction at the tiny voice. She crouched down so she was level with Sharon. “Baby girl, what’s your name?”
“Sharon Carter.” She tipped the sunglasses down dramatically. “Future superspy.”
That earned a full laugh from Tony, but Mama Rhodes just sighed, holding out her hand. “Well, Miss Carter, why don’t you come inside and tell me how exactly you ended up here?”
Sharon happily slipped her small hand into hers, declaring, “I stowed away! In Tony’s suitcase. He didn’t even notice.”
Tony threw up his hands. “See? Totally not my fault. I was just too stoned to notice that—”
Rhodey groaned, cutting him off. “Ma, I swear, I didn’t—she just—she popped out halfway through the train ride—”
“James Rhodes,” Mama Rhodes cut in sharply, “you and I are going to have a discussion.”
But her face softened as she looked at Sharon again. “You eaten yet?”
“Nope,” Sharon chirped, letting her lead her inside.
“Well, we’ll fix that. You boys, put your bags down. We'll talk while this little one eats dinner.”
The smell of chicken and garlic filled the Rhodes kitchen, warm and grounding, but Tony Stark stood at the phone like a man awaiting execution. One hand hovered over the receiver, the other buried in his hair as he muttered under his breath.
“Maimed. Tortured. Hung upside down by my spleen. Yeah, that’s how this ends.”
She didn’t even glance at him. “Anthony, if you’re grown enough to smuggle a child across state lines, you’re grown enough to explain yourself.”
Tony’s voice cracked. “I didn’t smuggle her! She smuggled herself!”
“Mm-hm,” she said, not buying a word, giving the pot a decisive stir.
“Call.”
With a sigh, Tony dialed. The line rang once, twice—
“Carter,” came Peggy’s crisp voice.
Tony’s throat went dry. He glanced desperately at Mama Rhodes, who just pointed her spoon at him in warning. No escape.
“H-Hi, uh, Aunt Peggy? It’s Tony. Don’t freak out, but—” He winced as he heard her sharp inhale. “Okay, so, funny story—and by funny, I mean hilarious—you know how Sharon’s, uh, not home right now?"
“Yes,” Peggy said slowly, dangerous as a loaded gun.
“Well, plot twist! She… may have executed a highly successful infiltration mission into my suitcase.”
There was silence on the line. The kind that made Tony want to crawl into the oven with Mama Rhodes’ lasagna and never come out.
“She what?”
Tony panicked. Words tumbled out like marbles. “Not my fault! Totally not my fault! She’s a tiny ninja! Look, I didn’t even know until we were already on the train and then she popped out like—surprise, cousin time! And Rhodey’s freaking out because apparently this is kidnapping, who knew, and I thought it would be worse to, you know, return her on a different train, so now she’s here and alive and fed and absolutely thriving, and please, for the love of all things holy, don’t kill me.”
Mama Rhodes reached over and tapped his shoulder. “Breathe.”
Tony sucked in a huge gulp of air, then let it out in a rush. “See? Breathing. Totally calm. Not panicking. Completely fine.”
On the other end of the line, Peggy’s voice cut like glass. “Anthony Edward Stark. Put my niece on the phone. Now.”
Tony slapped a hand over the receiver and hissed at Sharon, who was still perched on a kitchen stool. “She wants you. Code red. This is it. Say goodbye to your favorite cousin.”
Sharon hopped down cheerfully, cookie crumbs dusting her sweater, and marched over. “Hi, Aunt Peggy!”
Tony and Rhodey both leaned in, straining to hear her side of the conversation.
“Yes, I’m fine. Yes, I ate. Mama Rhodes made cookies. …Mm-hm. Mm-hm.” Sharon’s face lit up. “Best mission ever!”
Tony winced like he’d been shot.
“Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Don’t worry, Tony took really good care of me. Well—Rhodey did. Tony just panicked a lot… Okay! Love you too, bye!” Sharon handed the receiver back, entirely unbothered.
Tony hesitated, then slowly raised it to his ear. “…Aunt Peggy?”
Her voice was low, terrifyingly calm. “Do not move. I am on my way.”
Tony squeaked. “Yes ma’am.”
The line went dead.
Rhodey leaned over to Sharon, whispering, “Told you she was gonna kill him.”
Sharon nodded sagely. “Step Four: Survive Aunt Peggy.”
Tony put the phone down slowly. “You’re both monsters.”
It was well past dark when Peggy finally pulled up to the Rhodes’ townhouse, the winter air biting against her cheeks as she strode up the front steps. Her knock was brisk, military precise.
The door swung open to reveal Mama Rhodes, calm as ever, dish towel slung over her shoulder. “Evening, Agent Carter. Come in.”
“Mrs. Rhodes, I presume. Thank you,” Peggy said, brushing off her coat as she stepped inside. “Where is she?”
“In the living room.” Mama Rhodes’ lips twitched like she was hiding a smile. “They’ve been… keeping busy.”
Peggy raised a brow but said nothing, heels clicking against the hardwood as she crossed into the next room.
The scene that greeted her was not the disaster she’d imagined. Instead, it was… homey. Comfortable. Sharon was curled up against Rhodey's side on the couch, half-asleep, her hair neatly braided back. She stirred just enough to giggle when Tony hit a sour note.
Because of course Tony Stark had commandeered a guitar.
He stood near the fireplace with Mr. Rhodes beside him on keyboard, both grinning as they powered through a Madonna song. Tony leaned dramatically into the music, hair falling into his eyes, while Sharon clapped weakly in support, her small hands barely making a sound.
“Encore,” she mumbled, not even opening her eyes.
“Your wish is my command, Rockstar,” Tony said, immediately shifting into another riff.
Peggy lingered in the doorway for a moment, arms crossed, her sharp expression betraying just the faintest curve at the corner of her mouth. It was chaos, yes. Unplanned, reckless, entirely too dangerous—but Sharon was safe. She was warm. And she was happy.
She stepped forward. The floor creaked, and Tony’s head whipped around mid-chord. His face drained of color so fast Peggy thought he might faint.
“…Aunt Peggy,” he squeaked.
Mr. Rhodes chuckled, not missing a beat on the keys. “Evening, ma’am.”
Sharon perked up, still sleepy but smiling. “Aunt Peggy! Tony’s a rockstar!”
Peggy arched an eyebrow at Tony, who was now fumbling through the easiest three-chord progression like it was rocket science. “Is that so?”
Sharon nodded, burrowing back against Rhodey’s side. “Best mission ever.”
Peggy let out a soft hum, stepping closer until she stood in front of the couch. Her sharp eyes swept over Sharon—braided, fed, blissfully content—before flicking back up to Tony, who was sweating like he’d just run a marathon in full armor.
“Well,” Peggy said at last, voice smooth as glass. “I suppose I should be grateful you kept her alive.”
Tony scrambled, nearly tripping over the guitar as he tried to set it down gently. “Alive, yes. Thriving, even! Look, she ate, she napped, she had a cultural experience—Madonna is culture—and not once did I let her anywhere near, uh… felonies. Except maybe the train thing, but that’s—”
“Anthony.”
The single word cracked like a whip. Tony froze.
Peggy crouched to Sharon’s level, brushing a hand over her niece’s curls. “Time to come home, darling.”
Sharon made a noise halfway between a whine and a sigh. “But I like it here. Miss Rhodes braids better than you do.”
Peggy’s brows lifted just a fraction, though her tone didn’t waver. “Is that so?”
From the kitchen doorway, Mama Rhodes smirked, arms folded. “She sat still for me. Can’t say I’ve seen her sit still for much else tonight.”
Peggy gave Mama Rhodes a polite nod, though her mouth twitched like she was swallowing back a smile. “Then I may have to borrow your technique, Mrs. Rhodes.”
"Roberta," Mama Rhodes corrected easily. "And any time. Though I'd prefer it not involve any more cross-state stowaways."
"That's fair," Peggy said dryly, before turning back to Sharon. "Up you get, superspy. We've got to debrief back in New York."
Sharon groaned, heavy-limbed, and buried her face deeper against Rhodey’s arm. “Don’ wanna debrief. Wanna stay on mission.”
“Sweetheart,” Peggy said, smoothing a thumb over her cheek, “the mission is complete. And you were brilliant.”
That earned a sleepy smile, though Sharon still clung to Rhodey like a barnacle. “So no more Tony Time?"
Rhodey looked down at the kid latched to his side and then up at Peggy like, please don’t shoot me, ma’am, I didn’t sign up for this.
Tony, meanwhile, was vibrating, hands flailing. “Whoa, whoa, whoa—let’s not be hasty here! ‘No more Tony Time’? That’s harsh. That’s cruel. That’s psychological warfare on a minor!”
Peggy gave him a look so sharp it could’ve drawn blood. “Anthony.”
He shrank two inches. “Right. Shutting up.”
Rhodey cleared his throat, carefully disentangling Sharon’s grip on his arm. “C’mon, kiddo. You gotta let go sometime. My arm’s fallin’ asleep.”
Sharon pouted but released him, slow and reluctant. Peggy scooped her up with practiced ease, settling her against her hip. Sharon immediately tucked her face into Peggy’s shoulder, already halfway back to dreaming.
Peggy adjusted Sharon’s weight easily, her hand smoothing over her niece’s back in absent, protective circles. When she looked up again, her expression had sharpened back into the kind of steel that could freeze a room solid.
Her eyes locked on Tony.
"Just so you know, Anthony, I already told her mother exactly what happened. She should be calling soon."
And with that, she turned and walked right out the door.
The door clicked shut behind them. Silence lingered for a beat.
Then Mr. Rhodes sighed. “Jim.”
“Yeah, Dad?”
“You’re grounded. Him too.”
Tony flailed. “I don’t even live here!”
“And yet somehow, you’re grounded.”