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Pepper has noticed the changes.
She always knew Tony was a good person, or she wouldn’t be working for him. She knew what there was underneath, and she became fast friends with Rhodey and heard all about that person that Tony has been trying to hide, the one who he really is. The one that had a security blanket all through college. The one who still drinks a glass of milk in the morning before his coffee. The one who likes to sing in the shower. The one who presses reverent fingers to a photo of his mother every day before he leaves his apartment.
Tony is a mess of contradictions, of thinly veiled worries and fear. Tony puts on a mask and expects everyone to accept it, and most people do. Well, people who don’t know any better. She’s felt strangely like she’s known his heart since the beginning, since the interview, since his eyes went downcast and he cleared his throat and ran his hand through his hair—but she hates the way that sounds. She’s better than that.
But she knows it’s true, anyway. And this baby—Peter just brings out the best in Tony. Peter doesn’t fall for any of his shit, Peter isn’t here for Tony’s false faces or walls he puts up. Peter doesn’t allow any of that, and Tony doesn’t seem to be trying. He wants to be who he really is, for this baby.
And it’s...unfortunately...messing with her.
Be professional, Virginia. Don’t go falling in love with the first handsome man you meet.
Well. He wasn’t the first one.
~
She doesn’t mind doing eighty percent of Tony’s work, especially considering the reason he’s busy is a precious little munchkin that’s currently hell-bent on walking everywhere he goes, whether he’s good at it or not. But it also means, along with doing eighty percent of the work, that she’s at the penthouse a lot more than she used to be. And she was already there a lot.
She tries not to think about it.
But she thinks about it a lot.
And she also spends a lot of time trying to tell herself not to think about it.
Virginia. Virginia, are you listening to me?
She scans into his apartment, shaking her head at herself, and holds the pile of proposals close to her chest. Obie told her to pass it all off to Tony, told her to tell him to pick three and can the rest. She doesn’t know what it is about Obie, but the way he says things sometimes—especially to Tony—well, she isn’t fond of it.
All the lights are on, and she knows he’s here because Jarvis would turn them off if nobody was home. She hasn’t seen Tony in about six hours, which is pretty long for them for when the sun is still out.
No, no. She’s not thinking like that. She’s not thinking like that at all.
“Tony?” she calls, in a rush of breath, glancing around. Peter’s toys are splayed out all over the carpet, and his glow worm is placed precariously on top of the easy chair.
“He is in the office, Miss Potts, with Peter.”
“Thanks, Jarvis,” Pepper says. She dumps her purse and her bag onto the chair but keeps the proposals, and starts heading that way.
She’s had a bit of a ringing in her ears since all this started. Since that first phone call, introducing the idea of Peter into their lives. It started low but has been getting louder and louder as time’s moved on, and when she walks down into the hallway and turns into the office, the ringing reaches a crescendo.
Tony is sitting in front of his computer. Shirtless. With the baby on his chest. Peter is in his little Mickey Mouse pants and his purple socks, and he’s knocked out, sleeping peacefully close to Tony’s heart. His little hands are balled into loose fists and he looks like the picture of perfection, and Tony—Tony. Tony is wearing black jeans and has his legs kicked up on the desk and both arms are wrapped protectively around his baby and—Tony—Tony.
She’s slipping into a deep abyss. She stands there like the world’s biggest idiot, gripping the doorframe and, thankfully, still holding on to the proposals.
“Hey!” Tony half-whispers, and now he’s smiling, Jesus Christ, he’s smiling. “Sorry, Peter was having a whole morning and I still like to do this skin to skin thing to calm him down—I know it’s a newborn thing, he’s almost nine months, whatever, but it still helps the bond and he almost always conks right out when I do it. Who knows.”
She stares. For one billion years.
He narrows his eyes. “You okay?” he asks, gently, too gently. “Have you eaten anything yet? I know how you do that. I’ve got eggs and shit in the fridge. Uh. Stuff for smoothies. Lots of baby food if you’re into that.”
“Uh.” Her voice cracks on the single syllable. Then he grins because he knows, he knows, he’s dealt with this enough and my God, now she’s one of them. No no. She’s gotta reel this back. She has to—she has to right herself.
Images present themselves—
No, no. They’re not welcome here.
“Pep?”
“I’ve got the proposals,” she says, too loud, and thankfully Peter doesn’t wake up at her outburst. “For, uh. The stuff.” Softer, but stupider. “You know.” Not helping.
“I do know,” Tony says, and his smile is more wicked this time. “You can leave ‘em on the desk right here. I’m finishing up the ten hour rehash Obie sent over for the new line, then I’ll start on this. Or maybe lunch together? More fun?”
She just pictures him traipsing around the penthouse shirtless. She’s never seen him shirtless before. Has she? No. Definitely not. She shouldn’t be seeing that. This shouldn’t be happening.
Peter looks so, so sweet. And he looks more protected than any baby has ever been ever and Pepper turns, walking down the hallway away from all this. “Fine!” she calls. Unsure of where the hell she’s going or what she’s agreeing to.
Just. Away.
~
Pepper hears the music coming from the workshop and she isn’t daunted. Tony always plays music loud, but Pepper is ready to chastise him, because she knows Peter is in there and the music is too damn loud for the baby. Tony should know that. As much as he loves ZZ Top—it doesn’t need to be this loud.
Jarvis scans her handprint and she holds her chin high, ready to say what she’s got to say, but when she steps inside—
The music is louder, absolutely, than how it was in the hallway. That’s just—how those things work. But Tony—Tony isn’t mindlessly working on one of his cars or upgrading the bots or working through spec layers, he’s—dancing.
And he’s dancing with Peter.
Peter, who is wearing one of those headphone sets that babies wear at races or concerts. Peter, who is balancing on Tony’s boots while Tony holds onto his hands, gently bopping him back and forth. They’re listening to Gimme All Your Lovin’ and Tony sings the words down at Peter, tracing his thumbs back and forth across Peter’s knuckles. Peter is beaming up at him, laughing and shrieking and babbling in his half formed language. Tony steps back and forth, gentle and cautious dancing, and Peter tries to mimic him, bending his knees fast, over and over.
The door hits Pepper and knocks her further into the room.
The music is so loud that Tony doesn’t hear her, and she watches as he swoops down, hoisting Peter up into his arms. He starts smothering him with kisses, still dancing, and Peter laughs and laughs, hands immediately going to Tony’s facial hair like they always do. Tony spins around.
GIMME ALL YOUR LOVIN, ALL YOUR HUGS AND KISSES TOO
Tony tickles Peter, makes him laugh, and skids across the floor back and forth like Tom Cruise in Risky Business. Pepper can tell the way he’s holding onto Peter is safe and secure, like he knows there’s a possibility of dropping him and he’d never, ever let it happen. He keeps kissing him, and Peter holds onto his father and gazes at him for a moment, like he’s the best thing he’s ever seen in his life. He looks so, so adorable in his big headphones, and once again, Pepper is staring.
She doesn’t know what’s going on. Tony is a beautiful man—
No—
But he is—
No, he’s your boss—
Virginia. Virginia.
She sucks in a deep breath and tries to recalibrate. Tony is—a handsome man, but this—is this about what a good father he is? Is this about what a good father he is against society’s expectations? Him being the exact opposite of what the tabloids said he might be? Does she want a baby? Is she bad at her job? Is she trying to sabotage herself? Why is she standing here watching?
Horrifyingly, Tony spins again and spots her. Peter starts laughing and reaching out towards her, which he normally only does for Tony, and it’s like a spear in her heart. Tony raises his eyebrows, lowering his gaze, and he actually starts dancing towards her, making Peter wave as they approach. The waving is new, and still not completely perfected, and Peter is swooping back and forth in Tony’s arms, trying to mimic his dad’s movements, his dad’s waving, and he’s giggling and grinning and Tony is singing—
“Gimme all your lovin’, all your hugs and kisses too! Gimme all your lovin’, don’t let up until we’re through!”
He reaches her, and immediately transfers Peter into her arms, the baby still dancing. Peter seems content to be with her, holding onto her shoulder and still bopping back and forth, and he dissolves into hysterics when Tony starts dancing more intensely right in front of them, bending his knees and swaying his hips to the music. He’s got his eyes closed for a second, just dancing, so she outwardly stares, listens to the unadulterated joy and admiration close to her ear.
Then, Tony opens his eyes again, and takes one of her hands and one of Peter’s, drawing them closer and into an awkward, swaying circle. She just lets him tug her hand back and forth, their arms like a gentle wave.
Her face is burning up. Her mind a mess. Peter is still laughing hysterically, and she can feel his joy, how much he absolutely adores what’s going on here.
She’s drifting towards something she shouldn’t.
But then the song ends, and she blinks back to life, the silence wrapping her up and pulling her back towards sanity.
Come on, now, Virginia.
“Uh, Jarvis, turn it down to a three,” Tony says, letting go of their hands.
“Wow,” Pepper says, clearing her throat and rubbing Peter’s arm. “Thank you for the, uh, unscheduled performance.”
“Oh, it was scheduled,” Tony says. “Just not on your schedule.”
She smiles, her heartbeat slamming in her ears. “Glad you’re going with the headphones now.”
“Need to protect the precious cargo,” Tony says, grinning at Peter. “I’m becoming more and more aware of how loud I play it.”
“Peter has blessed you with enlightenment,” Pepper says.
“Amongst everything else,” Tony says. He swoops in close and Pepper tries not to gasp as Tony presses kiss after kiss to Peter’s cheeks. Tony is so close to her that she can see all the fine details of his hair, and she’s never really looked before, not this close. Not this close.
Everything about him is—
No, no.
He leans back, running a reverent hand along Peter’s cheek. He smiles at Pepper, wide and sweet, and she can’t help but smile back, blowing out a breath.
“What d’ya got for me?” Tony asks, holding Peter’s hand. Tony gives Pepper one of those open and honest looks, the kind of look that most people don’t see, and it’s been making her heart flutter more and more lately.
Jesus Christ.
“Or did you come for the dance party?” Tony asks, smiling again.
“I, uh, came to yell at you for the music,” she says. “But then you were doing the right thing and he had his cute headphones on and you were dancing and he’s so happy—”
Tony looks smug now, and he raises his eyebrows, motioning for Pepper to hand Peter back. She does, and Peter is pleased as punch about that—he tries to lay his head on his dad’s shoulder, but the headphones prevent him, so he nuzzles into his neck instead.
“I got this,” Tony says.
“Yes,” Pepper says, her mouth dry. “You—you do. You’ve got this.”
~
Pepper focuses on other things. She overworks, she takes on things that Tony doesn’t need to get done for another couple of months, and she plays telephone between Tony and Obie, unable to tell whether something is going on between them or if they’re both just busy.
But Tony almost always insists on her presence for Sunday night dinners, when both May and Ben can attend. Sometimes Rhodey is able to make those, too, and he always hypes Tony up and makes him ten times more obnoxious than he’d usually be about asking, so Pepper gives in and goes. She brings work, and tries to keep her focus on that while Tony falls deeper and deeper into her subconscious, and she doesn’t allow herself to think about it. It. Any of it.
This particular Sunday, Peter is running. He’s been slowly getting better and better on his feet, and a few days ago Tony called with pure excitement and panic in his voice, because the running had started and now it seems it hasn’t stopped. Tony’s acting like he’s used to it now, almost nonchalant, which Pepper takes as him trying to tamp down on his fear of something happening. As if that’ll stop it.
Pepper secretly looks up Peter’s progress, how he’s hitting his milestones, and he’s definitely above the average baby, which doesn’t exactly surprise her. Tony keeps touting that idea, that he’s raising a little genius, but she thinks he actually might be.
She tries to watch the baby while Ben cooks, and Tony and May look at swim school listings on the computer. It’s Tony’s idea—another precaution, another just in case, and Pepper doesn’t even think about the fact that he’ll have to go into the pool with Peter, since he’s still so young. She doesn’t think about that. At all.
Peter has no idea, of course. Peter is currently racing around the dining room table, yelling, and each step makes his voice go up an octave, up and down, up and down, like someone is shaking him. Tony has literally set up a baby perimeter around the table so Peter can’t touch the chairs and knock them over into his path, and Pepper watches Peter go.
He’s got the biggest smile on his face, and he’s wearing the little koala pajama set Tony got on their last outing, with the hood with the ears and everything. It’s too cute, unbearably cute, especially since Peter is actually wearing the hood up instead of letting it sag at the back of his neck.
“How’s our koala?” Tony calls, from the living room.
“Still running,” Pepper says, smiling to herself. “He seems—steadier.”
“He’s getting a lot of practice,” Tony says, with love and exasperation.
Pepper snorts as Peter rounds the corner again, still yelling, grinning right at her like he knows she’s watching. She smiles back, nearly debilitated by the koala pajamas and Peter’s cuteness combined. He makes his way around the right side of the table, and she sees disaster incoming before her brain can properly register it.
His glow worm is right in his path. He must have—he must have kicked it on one of the last roundabouts, and he’s so focused on his yelling, so sure of his path that he doesn’t seem close to stopping.
Pepper launches herself towards him, her heart in her throat. “Peter!”
But he trips, and his tiny body is tipping towards the ground, face first. His excited yelling stops.
Pepper is panicking, trying to move faster than she’s ever moved. But he’s too far away, already falling, his hands flailing. She knows, any moment, that the room will be filled with crying, and God fucking forbid, a bruise on his precious little face.
Tony.
He swoops in, a flash of color, he’s moving so fast, and he literally grabs Peter up and hugs him to his chest right in the nick of time, before Peter hits the ground. Tony lands hard where Peter would have, and he’s got his eyes tight closed, like he isn’t sure his lunge worked. Pepper stops in her tracks, taking it all in—Tony is splayed across the floor, half in the entrance from the living room and half out of it, and he pulls back, looking at Peter’s face.
Peter and Pepper are both wearing matching expressions of shock, and Peter stares at his dad like he has no earthly clue where he came from.
“That’s almost a dislocated shoulder for daddy,” Tony says, gritting his teeth. “Yeah. Almost. Maybe still.”
Pepper still stands there, and she sees May walking up behind him, her mouth hanging open. Tony groans as he sits up, adjusting Peter in his arms, and Peter laughs when he realizes everything’s okay and Tony’s holding him, leaning in and snuggling into Tony’s neck.
“How the hell did you do that?” May asks, glancing up at Pepper. “Tony. You. You, you—”
“It was like you teleported,” Pepper says, softly. “You weren’t there, then you were—”
“Well, my little koala was plummeting,” Tony says, pressing a couple gentle kisses to Peter’s head, just above where the fuzzy ear on the hood is. “You know. Dad senses. Whatever.” He looks up at Pepper and grins. “Guess I’m a superhero now, huh?”
There’s something happening in her brain. Again. There was no scenario in which anybody stopped that baby’s fall. Not even her, and she was closest. Tony was all the way over at the goddamn desk, in the corner, in the other room. Multiple obstacles in his way.
And yet.
“What’s going on?” Ben says, coming into the room behind Pepper. She turns, away from the burning hot sear on her vision, and sees Ben standing there, wearing a ‘kiss the cook’ apron and two oven mitts.
“Nothing, Mr. Mom,” Tony says, struggling back to his feet with Peter in his arms. “Just the crazy wild animal in my house.”
“Oh,” Ben says, nodding at the both of them. “Alright. Well, we’ve got about twenty minutes. Bread’s still baking.”
“I’ll come help you,” May says, brushing her hand over Tony’s shoulder as she moves past him.
Pepper sighs, and when she looks back she sees Tony looking at her. “Sorry, I didn’t, uh—that I wasn’t able to get to him in time.”
“Nah, don’t worry about it,” Tony says, shaking his head. He rubs Peter’s back, smiling down at him. “I’ll always catch him. That’s my job, that’s what they pay me for. Huh, munchkin? Bad baby?”
Peter giggles, absentmindedly grabbing at Tony’s goatee.
Pepper sighs, and doesn’t say anything else.
~
It’s right in here.
Pepper is standing there, discussing the upcoming Nightingale presentation with Tony and Obie, and she had left the floor plan listing in the next room. She’d forgotten it, somehow. It’s right in here. Peter is in the playpen, hovering back and forth above his array of toys, and Tony follows Pepper out of the room, leaving Obie and Peter behind.
Moments. That’s it. Moments.
Tony stands next to her, peering at the paper. “Bad placement for Doctor Robbins,” he says, hands on his hips.
“Why?” Pepper asks. “Something I don’t know?”
“He doesn’t like—”
Hysterical, horrific crying.
Tony doesn’t even take a breath, rushing back into the other room. Pepper quickly moves after him, and when they get back in there she sees Obie, standing over the playpen. Peter is sitting now, his face screwed up with sadness and streaks of tears. He looks so small, smaller than usual, and she’s heard him cry on more than one occasion, but there’s something different in this.
“Obie,” Tony says, out of breath, getting to Peter and hoisting him into his arms. He holds him close, and takes a couple steps back. “What the hell happened?”
Obie barely looks at him. “My watch alarm went off, scared the little tike,” he says. “That’s all.”
“I didn’t hear anything,” Pepper says, staring at him.
“I turned it off real fast,” Obie says, glancing back and forth between them. Peter is still crying, shaking and huddling into Tony’s chest, and everything about this is rubbing Pepper the wrong way. Obie clears his throat, raising his eyebrows. He looks down at his watch, his face a mask. “But this is where I leave you, Tony. Now that you’re...otherwise engaged. We’ll finish things off tomorrow, when you find the time.”
He’s swift in leaving, and Tony doesn’t say anything—he just moves over to the closest chair and sits down. He holds Peter tight, one arm wrapped around him and the other cradling the back of his head.
“That was...that was strange,” Pepper says, looking over at the door that Obie left through.
Tony doesn’t respond. He leans in close to Peter’s ear, rocking him back and forth. Completely focused and intent on his son. “It’s okay, Pete. It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you, Dada’s got you, we’re okay, we’re okay.” He presses the bridge of his nose against Peter’s temple, breathing him in. “I love you, okay? I love you.”
Pepper hasn’t heard him say it before, and she feels frozen. This kind of reaction from Peter would have knocked Tony out in the beginning, would have sent him careening into a panic attack full of doubt. But now—he’s completely in charge. A stalwart, soothing presence. A reminder to Peter that he’s safe, and loved, and protected. No matter what happened to cause this.
Peter’s crying is tapering off now, still loud in pieces, scattered hiccups, and he clings to Tony like he’s his last lifeline. Tony keeps whispering to him and kissing him and Pepper almost feels like she’s intruding, close to excusing herself when Tony looks up at her.
“I know we had a whole day of work planned, and usually I can deal, but this feels—”
“No, no,” she says, shaking her head. “None of it is—pressing, the gala is a month out, we can—still get on that another time. And all the other stuff is half done, I’m not too worried about the walkthrough of the new department, we can—we can push that.”
She’s never this light and flighty with him, she always tries to be more stern to fight against his nature of not wanting to do work—but the way he’s holding the baby, the strange set of circumstances, Peter’s terrified crying—Pepper can’t hold to her normal standards.
Tony gets up, still clutching at Peter, and he leans in close and kisses Pepper on the cheek.
She tries to wrack her mind, tries to remember if he’s ever done that before.
She knows he hasn’t. She knows.
He lingers a little bit, and then leans back, nodding at her. Peter readjusts himself and buries his face in Tony’s neck, his sobs still coming but practically silent now. Pepper wonders what the hell Obie did to make this happen. And why. It couldn’t have been his watch. Peter’s heard all kinds of noises, living with Tony.
Tony clears his throat, and Pepper feels half insane, her mind running in twenty different directions, worse than normal.
“Tomorrow, Miss Potts,” Tony says. “We’re gonna get it all done. Today I’m gonna spoil this little monkey because I’ve never seen him cry like this—” He shakes his head, like he’s wondering the same thing that she is about just what happened. She hopes he can’t see what else is in her head. He keeps talking. “But tomorrow. Me and you. We’ll get it all done, I’ll papoose it up. Deal?”
“Deal,” Pepper says, holding her head high, trying to keep it from falling off her shoulders.
She helps him gather up Peter’s things and walks him out, watches him dote on Peter and tickle him and kiss on him. Watches him dry his tears. Watches as Happy picks the two of them up, watches as Tony holds Peter like the precious cargo he is.
He waves from the window, making Peter’s hand wave too.
She stands there, after the car is gone, and she knows she’s fallen.
Virginia, you can’t do this.
But it’s already done. There’s no more fighting it. It’s as ingrained as anything else is that’s been a part of her for this long, and she knows she can’t pry it loose.
It’s him.
And it can’t be him.
But it is. It’s him.
“Shit,” Pepper whispers, the wind whipping her hair out of her eyes.