Work Text:
Pepper’s day isn’t going well. Safe to say, finding Tony sitting in her office chair with his grease-stained jeans lounging on her desk is the exact opposite of what she needs. Stark Industries has been a whirlwind these last few months, with data leaks and product delays and personnel changes complicating an already eventful transition as SI readies to merge with a small tech company that had the potential to grow into a competitor. She’s spent most of her day dealing with a mind-numbing emergency meeting which could have easily been solved with a single email and to make matters worse, she had to quell the PR department’s worries over the public’s opinion on the return of the aptly named Rogue Avengers, and how that might affect SI’s image (and more importantly their stock prices). She’s been putting out fires all day, both metaphorical and literal when she had to visit Tony’s lab to discuss an issue in R&D that needed his attention and found him too invested in his work to pay note to the flames dancing across his desk from the very piece of equipment he was tinkering. An incident which ended in an argument, as too many of their conversations do these days, what with their schedules keeping them apart – the accords have him busier than her sometimes.
No, what Pepper needs right now is a long, blissful, prune-your-fingers soak in the en suite Tony had designed to her exact specifications. She wouldn't call it an exaggeration to say the look Tony has on his face is the exact opposite of that. Considering the way their last conversation ended (see: not well) it’s a surprise he’s here at all. Tony’s a sulker, after all. Worse still, he’s wearing his IdeaTM face. Specifically, the type of idea that it’s almost impossible to convince him against. Key word: almost.
“Whatever you’re going to say,” Pepper cuts in before he can open his mouth, “don’t.”
“I-”
She raises her eyebrows, causing him to reconsider his wording.
“I was just thinking…” he gives her enough time to stop him and, upon only receiving the slightest pinch to her gaze, continues, “how lucky I am to have you.”
Her shoulders ease against her will. As familiar as Pepper is with Tony’s sweet talk, that doesn’t mean it’s not nice to hear. But butter never melts on a silver tongue.
He carries on, encouraged by her silence. “In fact, the only way I could be luckier is if I had…two of you?”
This causes her pause, makes her mind glitch like any laptop she gets her hands on (much to Tony’s annoyance). No matter the ring on her finger, the media will always see Tony Stark as a notorious bachelor and avid flirt. And while, sure, the last part remains true, Tony is the one who fought through all of Pepper’s doubts and fears and second-guessing and proved to her how much better they were together. And while every rumour rag that dares consider itself journalism is convinced a man like him could never be happy with monogamy, she knows him better. Honestly, considering his work-addled focus and his collection of trust issues, it’s a miracle he’s even allowed himself to open up to her. The thought of him trusting anyone else that completely is laughable, frankly. Which is why Pepper is so confused. He cannot possibly mean what she thinks he means. And yet…
“If this is your way of asking to clone me, I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.” She half jokes, in an attempt to cover her confusion.
Tony chuckles to himself. “Not quite, but close.”
Clearly her thoughts are beginning to show on her face as he coughs once, twice, and pulls his legs off her desk, strewing what she knows are very important (and now dirty) papers across her pristine office floor. He sits up straight before standing, leaning against the desk in a mock-casual pose and then changing his mind and taking the few steps it takes to reach her. At this point, she’s beyond worried. A fidgety Tony is never good. The last time he was this nervous he had accidentally sent a text meant for her to her mother instead and though she never learnt what it said she could hazard a guess based on the hour long phone call he had to have with her to apologise.
Tony’s fingers twitch by his sides, a sign she knows means he’s fighting to reach for the sunglasses tucked in the neckline of his shirt. He calms his hands by reaching for hers and readies himself with a large breath.
“What do you think of kids?” He asks, way too casually for what he’s implying.
Pepper isn’t sure how many times she blinks in response but it doesn’t clear up the image in front of her: Tony, looking equal parts hopeful and honest, jaw clenched but hinting towards a smile. If she didn’t know he’d been clean for the last four months she would ask if he’s been drinking. At this point she’s so baffled she has no choice but to answer honestly.
“I think–I think they’re like tiny adults and that makes them kind of hilarious.” And cute, but she elects not to mention that in case it turns out she is having the conversation she thinks she’s having. Maybe all the mindless meetings have caught up with her. Maybe in a moment her vision’ll clear and she’ll be back in the uncomfortable office chairs that SI dolled out way too much money on because Tony decided to try his hand at “helping” with the latest remodel. If she focuses hard enough, she thinks she can hear McCleary or McCafferty (or whatever SI’s new PR head is called) still droning on about analytics. Maybe that’s just the ringing in her ears. Tony gives her hand a squeeze. Maybe this really is happening.
“I know the timing’s not great but I overheard some of the techs down in R&D talking about all the ways their kids annoy them and I realised…I want that.”
“If all you want is to be annoyed, I’m sure I can manage that on my own.” She snipes, but her tone is eased by the smile beginning to mirror his own.
“I’m serious, Pep. I’ve spent my whole life either trying to live up to my father’s shadow or trying to outrun it.” He swallows the emotions threatening to dampen his eyes. “I convinced myself that the only way to distance myself from him was to push everyone else away and, well,” he rubs his finger over her engagement ring, chuckling slightly, “clearly that went well. The more I let people in, though, the less bad it all feels. The less like him I feel. If I really want to be different, break the cycle and all that, then I think this is how.”
He gives her a coy look and she knows whatever he says is going to make her laugh, no matter how ridiculous or unfunny it is. “Besides, I’ve kept myself alive. How much harder could a kid be?”
Damn him. “I kept you alive.”
“Then it’s a good thing I won’t be doing this alone, huh?”
It’s a good speech, she’ll give him that. But that’s what Tony excels at. She’s seen the man end a spam call having sold stock in his own company. If they’re going to do this – and she can’t believe they’re even entertaining the thought – then they need more than words. Tony has always been a man of action and seeing is believing so…
She pulls her hands free and walks away.
“Pep, I know this is a lot but—”
He’s cut off by her unceremoniously dropping a potted plant into his arms. A plant that, as of two seconds ago, lived by her office door.
“Um.” He says.
“Okay.” She says.
“Um,” he repeats, eloquence clearly at its limit, “this is a plant.”
“You really are a genius. Remind me of your IQ?”
“IQ is an outdated and limited frame of reference to measure intelligence which is ‘inadequate in explaining the multidimensional aspects of human intelligences’” He intones dully.
“Was that a quote? That felt like a quote.” It’s strange for her to hear him denounce the worth of his IQ, considering how often he uses it to win arguments.
“This is a plant.” He repeats again for good measure, as if now second-guessing her IQ. “You know I meant like an actual kid kid, right? I don’t wanna be one of those crazy plant parents. I mean don’t get me wrong, I like having plants around, love it, actually, couldn’t live without at least one near me at all times.”
“How many plants are in our apartment? Since you love them so much.”
“Twelve?”
“Try zero.”
“No, there's definitely at least one in the bathroom.”
“That’s made of silk.”
“No it’s not, I’ve been watering it.”
“No, you haven’t.”
“I could've been!"
“Yes. But you haven’t.”
He seems pretty intent to continue this needless spat, so she cuts in before he can get too amped up.
“It’s a test, Tony. Keep this alive for a month and then we can talk about…something more.” God, she can’t even bring herself to say the word.
“One month?! I mean–one month? Is that all? Easy, easy, peasy, squeezy…”
He continues his nonsense muttering as she ushers him out. She needs to re-print and re-sign the papers he’s messied so she can officially clock out for the day. She calls the elevator and starts to walk away when he yells out, clearly having forgotten something important.
The sound of F.R.I.D.A.Y. alerting them to the elevator’s arrival is ignored as he presses a chaste kiss to her cheek. After years of dating, such a simple act shouldn’t give her butterflies and yet it’s exactly what she needs to unknot the stress that’s been tightening her spine. Damn him.
“There’s Chinese in the fridge, whenever you get done,” he says, stepping into the awaiting elevator, “but no sweet and sour, sorry.” His last words are sped up as if he thinks saying it fast will save her anger. Damn him, indeed.
Pepper spends every night sleeping in the same bed as Tony. Though what with her early mornings and his late nights, they spend most of their time there alone. And yet, spending the night elsewhere always feels different. At home, Pepper can smell his aftershave on the pillows, feel his dip in the mattress, and trip over his shoes in the middle of the floor. She can never get a good night's rest without at least the illusion of his presence. Tony owns a number of apartments around the world to assist in impromptu holidays, but even small comforts like her favoured brands of coffee and soap can’t distract from how unlived in the whole place feels. It’s why she and Tony work so well. She has a tendency to over-organise ‘to the point of insanity’ (his words) and he only remembers to clean up after himself when it becomes a direct threat to his safety (also his words). It doesn’t help how little they’ve managed to talk since she left New York. Sometimes he’s a little more Iron Man than Tony Stark, and that feeling has only grown since the Avengers’ initial split. He said he needed to take care of some hero business while she was away but apart from knowing it’s not mission-related, she’s completely out of the loop. She’s been fairly busy herself, after all.
For the last month she’s been back at their Malibu office, working out some issues that could only be handled in person because of a strong case of the flu that seemed to have knocked all of her most trusted employees out for the count and left their subordinates struggling to keep up with the workflow. Considering the company they’re absolving is based in Malibu also, she took it as a sign to visit a place she once considered home.
She wouldn’t have even remembered the challenge she’d set if it wasn’t for a few overlapping events on her last day before returning to Manhattan. It started with a member of the board announcing the birth of their child and ended with her finding out the plant in the office she had commandeered for the week was fake. She was determined to never let Tony know she had tried watering it. On top of that, she spent the flight home battling nausea, likely from the chinese she ate that morning even though she knew it was bordering on too old.
All that being said, she’s glad she forgot, otherwise she’d have risked getting her hopes up. This way she only has a day’s worth of disappointment to contend with. The shriveled plant sits in the same place Tony dropped it the first night, notably nowhere near any sort of lightsource what with it trapped halfway behind the couch.
“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?”
“Ma’am?” Ah, so he knows he’s messed up. Tony only ever asks F.R.I.D.A.Y. to address Pepper like that when he thinks she might be on the warpath. He really should know by now that fake-nicities are more likely to set her off than anything else
“Where is he?”
F.R.I.D.A.Y. is intuitive enough not to need clarification on a question as simple as this.
“The med bay.”
Pepper sighs. “Of course.”
Tony has this infuriating habit of hiding in the med bay when he’s worried she might be mad at him, as if the chance of an injury would sway her into tampering her temper. As if she hasn’t yelled at him in life and death situations before.
Pepper doesn’t even consider the med bay might actually be in use. Even if she had, she wouldn’t have expected it to be housing a strange and clearly unwell teenager.
The boy has a mop of brown hair stuck to his forehead and there’s an MIT hoodie peaking from under the covers. It looks a lot like the one Tony’s been looking for for the past few months. His skin is visibly clammy and he seems ill at peace even while asleep. Tony doesn’t look much better, now that she’s dragged her eyes away long enough to notice. His beard is slightly overgrown and the bags under his eyes imply stress and not a lack of sleep. He’s quite skilled at not letting his sleep schedule (though schedule seems a strong word) affect his appearance.
Pepper’s heels sound especially loud as she enters.
“Pepper!” Tony whispers, an honest to god smile breaking out on his face. God, the audacity of this man. “You’re back. Just in time for the main event.”
She allows herself a moment to calm herself; she cannot, in good conscience, wake a clearly suffering child. Dear god, there is a child in their med bay. Why is there a child in their med bay.
A look of dawning horror mars Tony’s face. She has only a moment to appreciate that he’s not going to beat around the bush before he does just that.
“I’m sorry about Planty McPlantface.”
All the words Pepper had been preparing to whisper-yell at him die in her throat, replaced by a single, strangled: “what?”
“The plant,” Tony clarifies, the sincerity in his voice catching her off guard almost as much as the words themselves, “I really did try to keep it alive but…” He trails off, eyes darting to the still-unnamed child lying between them. Which, again: why is there a child lying between them?
“Tony.” Pepper says, voice deceptively calm in a way he has come to know and fear. “Who the hell does this child belong to?”
“Oh!” His expression clears. “Me.”
Pepper is used to Tony not making sense. He talks in circles on topics you’d need at least two degrees to even begin to comprehend. Try as she might, there will always be a part of her fiancé that she will never quite understand. But nothing has ever confused her as much as his most recent declaration. Not when he announced, unplanned, on live TV, that he was done making weapons. Not when he announced, unplanned, on live TV, that he was Iron Man. And not even when he announced, unplanned, on live TV, that they were getting married before actually proposing to her.
“He’s yours?” She clarifies. Now that she looks closer, they do share a fair few similarities. And it would explain his recent and quite sudden interest in parenting. Considering his past, it was always a possibility that—
“Just temporarily.”
Pepper has officially lost the plot on this conversation.
“Anthony.” He visibly gulps. “Who. Is. This. Child?”
“This is Peter.”
“Good for him. And who is he to you?” Somewhere in this discussion her voice has shifted to that of her work persona. The version of Pepper Potts who was never called Virginia and has never stumbled over her words and would never water a fake plant.
“He’s…Peter?” Damn, this man. And damn his genuine confusion. When Tony considers something obvious it becomes akin to a rule of the universe and he can lose all sight of other’s understanding.
“And why is he here?”
“Oh, he’s sick.”
“Try again. Why is he here? As in: here specifically. As in: in this state of the art medical bay. As in: what happened in the month I was gone to cause…this?” Before he can utter any more nonsense she adds a caveat. “Explain it to me like I’m a child – a foreign child.”
For what it’s worth, Tony seems to give it some thought. She can see him pulling away from the moment and reminding himself of everything Pepper does and does not know.
“Okay. His aunt had a family emergency, nothing too serious and I won’t lie I didn’t fully listen to the specifics but the gist is that she needed to be in Italy but Pete had school and his little brainiac group and whatnot and it was all really last minute and she didn’t want to impose too much on anyone else and, you know, we have the extra space and the kind of safety precautions needed to keep this utter danger magnet alive while he’s gone so she asked if he could stay here since he already has a room and all and I figured why not, what’s the worst that could happen but it turns out the worst that could happen is some bullying, a near suspension, some attempted curfew-breaking, forgotten homework, midnight study sessions, and this apparently ‘impossible to get sick, don’t worry about me Mr Stark’ kid getting the flu.”
Tony is panting for breath at the end of his explanation and by the time Pepper has processed everything he’s said he’s almost breathing normally.
“I mean this in the least insulting way possible, but why the hell is he staying with you?”
“I told you—”
“No, no. You said why he needed a place to stay. But why here, Tony? You said he has a room? How do you know this kid? How do you know his aunt? Why does she have your number? Why did you say yes? Was it just to prove something to me? The plant would have proven something to me!”
“I know! And I tried, okay? But it’s kind of hard to keep track of two other living things on top of myself.”
“I don’t care about the damn plant, Tony!” Pepper yells, breaking out of their steadily increasing whispers. She feels like they’re talking in circles and yet nothing is being said.
The boy in between them—Peter, apparently—shifts at the sudden increase of noise. Tony’s eyes snap towards the movement. Peter blinks stiffly before his eyes flutter open, slightly dazed.
“Loud.” He mutters. Tony’s eyes soften at the boy’s tired tone. Peter looks straight at Tony, smiling dopily and ignoring Pepper’s presence completely.
“Sorry, buddy. Just a little domestic.” Tony runs a hand down Peter’s forearm absentmindedly and Pepper swears she can feel her jaw dropping because…what? “Wanna say hello to the missus?”
Usually Pepper would correct him, make some joke about him not making an honest woman of her, just yet. Right now, the thought doesn’t even occur to her. Tony isn’t one to hand out affection easily, even to those in his inner circle. She’s not sure he even realises how big a deal this is.
Peter shifts his entire head along with his gaze. His groan makes clear how much effort the single action takes. When he catches sight of her though, his eyes widen, shocked by her presence. As if she’s the outlier here.
Peter's hand twitches as he mumbles out an attempted introduction: “‘lo, Ms Ptts, ‘m Pet’r-Man.”
“Ah, let me translate,” Tony interjects, eyes never moving from Peter, “I believe that was: ‘Hello, Miss Potts, I’m Peter also known as local vigilante Spider-Man and if I wasn’t so out of my mind on specially enhanced cold meds I’d shake your hand. Also Iron Man is my favourite Avenger, just in case you were wondering.’”
“Pshh.” Peter blows out. Or attempts to, at least. His lack of control over his mouth makes it sound more like he’s blowing a raspberry which devolves him into a fit of giggles.
The new information halves Pepper’s indignation before tripling it. Pepper knew Tony was mentoring Spider-Man. Key word: mentoring. As in giving advice and providing tech and medical attention when needed. Not…not this.
This being Tony lightly bickering with the boy over why he’s not allowed to like Captain America more than Iron Man. Good God, did Tony just refer to himself as Peter’s ‘old man’? The way Tony’s face freezes minutely implies he also takes issue with this title. Unfortunately, it’s not for the reason she thinks.
Peter asking Tony: “So you admit you're an old man?” in a tone that implies a long-running joke is not the direction she thought this conversation would go. Then again, she couldn’t have predicted a single moment since she stepped off the elevator. Everything went downhill after Tony named the plant. Scratch that, from when she gave him the damn thing. Or maybe when she found him lounging in her office spouting ideas of parenthood.
Their bickering is broken only when Peter yawns large enough for his jaw to audibly crack. Pepper holds back a laugh at the purposefully exaggerated look of worry Tony shoots his way. She’s worried if either of them remember she’s here it’ll break the moment and, confused as she may be, she can’t look away. She may not know what she’s seeing, but she knows it’s important. A missing piece of the puzzle Tony’s been building these last few months slots into place.
“Okay, okay,” Tony says, “sleep time for spider kids.” He cuts off Peter’s complaints at the nickname by gently shoving his face into his pillow.
“Not tired,” Peter mutters, eyes already shifting shut.
“Mm, I see that.”
He hesitates a moment before brushing his fingers through the kid’s hair, sighing as the tension eases from Peter’s frame. Peter mumbles something about cheating and betrayal before sleep swallows him. Tony’s eyes crinkle in a way Pepper knows few have been allowed to see.
“His Aunt taught me this trick a week back. Kid had a bad nightmare and needed to call her to calm down. She said playing with his hair always knocks him right out.”
Pepper gives lets him bask in this moment of peace a while longer before she presses him for answers. She hates herself a little when she does.
“He’s Spiderman?”
“Spider-Man.”
“That’s what I said.”
“You missed the hyphen. He’s very protective of the hyphen. And I could hear that—”
“Tony,” Pepper refocuses him, “he’s Spider-Man?”
“Yeah.” A single word shouldn’t hold that much weight.
“He’s just a kid.”
“Yeah.” Tony’s voice is a little wetter this time. He pulls his hand back to wrap around his own wrist.
“Tell me about him.”
She can tell this is the right question from the way he immediately lights up.
“He’s a total whizz kid, genius even at a genius school, you know? His IQs probably higher than mine. Or, well, mine at his age.”
“IQ is ‘inadequate in explaining the multidimensional aspects of human intelligences,’” Peter quotes. Or at least, she thinks he does, considering he devolves into snores about halfway through his sentence.
Tony rolls his eyes. “High out of his mind and still trying to impress his girl. Even made me read some paper just cause she mentioned it.”
“Sounds like someone else I know.” Pepper says. “I take it this was the ‘hero business’ you were taking care of?”
“Well, parents are the real heroes, right?” He asks, smile toying with his lips. She opts not to remind him how many times he’s teased Clint for saying exactly that. “Babysitters fall under that category, too, right?”
Pepper lets the joke wash over her as she watches Tony watching Peter. “Babysitter, huh? You’re really going up in the world.”
“What can I say, the fridge privileges are worth it.”
They sit in silence for a moment, simply enjoying each other's company for the first time in too long. She can tell Tony is holding something back but she’s happy to wait for him to get his thoughts straight.
“I really am sorry about Planty.”
“That’s Planty McPlantface to you. Get his name right.”
Tony shakes his head, trying to keep his laughter in. “Yeah, I don’t know what to tell you. Kid thought it was funny. Some internet thing, I dunno. It made him smile.” Pepper wonders what all Tony would be willing to do as long as it made Peter smile. “I tried, Pep. But…I guess you were right. Maybe I’m just not ready yet. Maybe I’ll never be—”
Tony cuts himself off as Peter starts to shiver. He has F.R.I.D.A.Y. up the temperature of the room before grabbing an extra blanket out of the cupboard – then an extra-extra blanket to be safe. If there was a third, she think he'd grab that too. She thinks he might be muttering something about making Peter some soup.
God, this man. Pepper can’t believe she’s going to marry this idiot, let alone start a family with him. Though it does make her feel better about taking the pregnancy test she bought this morning.