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Jim gets the call at four in the morning, his phone flashing The Starkster. He’s had two hours of sleep and he’s sore and covered in bruises. He takes the call, acerbic words heavy on his tongue.
“James,” Tony says, and Jim swallows down the words. There’s an edge of panic in the pronunciation of his name, loud and clear even with several hundred miles between them and over the phone. Tony rarely calls him by his given name. It’s all Rhodey, honey bear, Rhodes, and sometimes, Jim but never James.
Jim drags a hand over his face, sitting up. “What’s wrong?”
Tony doesn’t answer for a long moment; Jim imagines worst case scenarios and waits. “Can you—I don’t know how to--, can you come?”
He lets out a pent-up breath.
Jim got back from Afghanistan three hours ago, flew in with the armor because he has a de-brief in the morning, because it’s faster, (because he likes flying the armor better than sitting in a plane), and because there’s a press conference. He needs sleep. He considers telling Tony all these things, throwing in some expletives for good measure.
“Please.”
Jim closes his eyes for a moment. “Yeah, I’ll be there in fifteen.”
Jim imagined many things, but not this: Tony Stark is standing in the living room, unnaturally still, his eyes wide and frantic, holding a baby. He’s got both hands around the child, just under its arms.
Jim says the first thing that comes to his mind: “You’re holding it wrong,” and quickly adds, “It’s not a bomb, it won’t explode in your face.”
Tony looks guilty and caught and no less frantic for it. “Thank God you’re here.” He takes two quick steps and pushes the baby at Jim.
Jim reaction is pure instinct, settling the baby against his shoulder, supporting it with both hands.
“Where the hell did you find a baby?” He feels a frown pull at his face, and it doesn’t help the headache building behind his temples.
“Not important. Focus, Rhodey. It’s a-- baby and unless you speak gibberish, we’re gonna have a hell of a time figuring out where its parents are.” The word baby comes out like it’s a foreign language, hesitation and awkwardness on both syllables.
“I’m fluent in gibberish,” Jim shoots back, and it gives him a sense of normalcy to tease Tony. “I understand you, don’t I?”
The baby starts screaming. For something so small, it has amazing lungs and vocal capacities. Jim wants to wince and cover his ears; instead he lifts the baby and peers at it.
“Oh God, make it stop,” Tony commands.
“How—“ Jim starts, but then swallows dryly. “We’re going to need diapers.”
Tony’s scrunched up face of confusion would be amusing any other time. “What—how can you tell?”
Jim focuses on his breathing. The alternative is to hit Tony, and he tries not to do that. “If you want to sniff its a--- backside to check, be my guest.”
Tony takes a step back, then another. “All on you, Rhodes.” The derisive tone of his voice almost covers the panic with which he’s looking at the baby.
Sometimes, being Tony Stark has its advantages. Within five minutes (during which the baby continues wailing, no matter that Jim walks with it and talks to it), someone’s delivering a whole bunch of diapers.
Jim squares his shoulders. He’s faced battle more times than he can count, risked his life for his country and he’s been friends with Tony Stark for years. He’s come through it all relatively unscathed for the most part, surely he can change a diaper.
Jim looks down at the baby. It blinks up at him, seemingly content in his arms for now. “Have you called the police?” If someone’s missing this baby, surely they’ve reported it. And if no one’s missing the baby--- Jim keeps his hands from tightening over the small body, but barely. “Or child services.”
Tony stills, then, very quietly, he says: “It was abandoned.”
For all that their friendship is based on insults, ribbing, mutual respect and a shared love for engineering and blowing shit up, sometimes Tony breaks Jim’s heart. Tony is painfully obvious and easy to read, if you know what to look for.
“Okay.” Jim nods, slowly, deliberately. The baby feels tiny and frail in his arms, like he could break it all too easily. He knows he could, too. “Okay. We’ll figure it out.”
Jim’s always wanted a kid or two. He imagined himself settling down with a nice, as-of-yet unidentified wife. He’s getting too old for active duty, and if it weren’t for the armor he would have gotten a medical discharge or a desk job months ago when shrapnel damaged his thigh muscle. It’s healed up well and the armor easily compensates, but technically, he’s no longer fit for active duty.
He’s thought about settling down. Considering he’s in weapons procurement, his job should be that of a paper-pusher anyways. He gets enough excitement just being friends with Tony Stark.
He’s always wanted a child, but he never imagined that this would be how he’d end up with one: unplanned and unasked for.
He never imagined that Tony Stark would be the one to give him a child (and he’s going to have nightmares for thinking that sentence), and it’s unexpected, but not entirely unwelcome.
He settles on Dana Antonia Rhodes and spends hours walking through his apartment, whispering to her.
“It’s okay, Dani, it’s all going to work out.”
Dana seems to need the encouragement less than he does.
Adoption, Jim knows, is riddled with bureaucracy. He doesn’t know whether to be thankful that Tony’s money makes it easy to skip a large number of hurdles, or really pissed off at the fact that the majority of people in this business seem to be placing their own financial wishes over the well-being of a child, which they really should. Tony’s money should not make this smooth sailing. The fact that Jim took one look at Dana and fell head over heels in love with her and that he would do anything for her, that’s what should matter.
At least, he thinks, she will never have to worry about money. Tony’s fallen into the role of the cool uncle before Jim’s so much as decided to officially adopt Dana, showering her with presents and making the most ridiculous plans.
Jim’s spent an evening making sure those plans included a generous college fund. One of them has to be responsible, and it’s never been Tony.
Pepper hugs him when the phone call comes that the procedure has gone through and he is now, officially, Dana’s father. There’s still paperwork to do – there always is – but he can smile at his daughter now and call her “my baby girl” and know that for all intents and purposes, it’s true.
He hugs Pepper back, and Tony comes in; there’s a manic expression on his face. “I heard—“ he says and Jim laughs and holds out a hand to Tony.
“Yeah,” he confirms, unable to keep the smile from taking over his features. “Yeah.”
They stand like that for a long time, the three of them, hugging and holding on.
It isn’t all roses, of course. Jim’s been in the military for long enough to be used to strange hours, to be able to fall asleep immediately and everywhere and to wake up at the slightest sound, the merest hint of disturbance or danger.
Those skills certainly come in handy while trying to raise a baby, but all of Jim’s training has him ill-prepared for the exhaustion that comes with looking after Dana twenty-four seven.
When his parental leave is over, he hires a nanny – Pepper vetted her and Tony’s paying her, granted, but Jim’s the one who takes a good look at her and decides that yeah, she’s good enough for his baby girl, and as much as he loves Dana, going back to the office and a few hours of quiet – and when did he start thinking of the air force as quiet? – do him a world of good. He feels more rested, these days, and more balanced.
He’s prepared to turn his whole life upside down to be the best daddy possible for Dana, but he’s relieved that he might not have to.
Captain America is found, and the Avengers are formed, and Tony – the cool uncle, who’d seemed to have perhaps found his own balance with Pepper and Stark Industries – calls Jim once or twice daily, at the strangest hours. Sometimes it’s when Dana’s just gone back to sleep and Jim’s been hoping, praying for a few hours of shut-eye himself.
“I think Cap hates me,” Tony says one night, strangely quiet, and Jim cradles the phone against his ear with one hand and Dana against his body with the other and closes his eyes, his head hitting the back of the couch.
He knows Tony, knows what to do and what to say when he gets like this and he wants to punch Howard Stark in the face. He vows to be a better father to Dana and sets forth to build Tony up again.
Sometimes, it feels like he’s looking after two children, not just one.
Jim’s visiting Tony in the mansion and he knew that the Avengers had moved in, but he hadn’t quite been prepared for the extent of their presence in Tony’s house. Bruce Banner seems very polite, shaking his hand and smiling at Dana before disappearing.
Jim settles Dana a little higher on his hip and musters the rest of them. Natasha Romanoff he’s met before, but she’s never seen Dana and he’s amused to find her eyes fixed on his child. He knows the effect Dana’s big eyes and blonde curls can have; he’s fallen prey to it himself, after all. Still, it is amusing to see it in others.
Clint Barton – Hawkeye, his mind supplies - and yes, he’s read up on all of them. He might be working a desk job now and not technically belong to S.H.I.E.L.D. in any fashion, but he still has clearance up to level 3 – raises an eyebrow from the couch and goes back to reading a magazine, a faint trace of either amusement or mockery playing around his lips. It’s not something Jim wants to examine too closely right now.
Tony comes bounding down the stairs, a whirlwind of words and gestures. “Hello Dani, babe,” he croons and takes Dana from Jim. “Hey Rhodey,” he adds, almost like an afterthought, and Jim smiles ruefully and watches his best friend disappear with his daughter, talking a mile a minute.
Jim’s made Tony read several books and quizzed him on the contents to make sure he’s actually read them – he still suspects that Tony just had JARVIS read him the cliff notes - but in the end, it doesn’t make a difference. He’s made sure that Tony knows how to deal with Dana when Jim’s not around to keep an eye on the two of them, and he knows that Tony would never consciously do anything to hurt Jim’s daughter. Jim is the one who does all the parenting, which means Tony doesn’t have to worry too much about screwing Dana up – they both know that Tony does worry, and neither of them mentions it – and it’s an arrangement that works well. Tony loves Dana, Jim knows, but he would be constantly on edge if he were the one to raise her. Jim has a solid foundation to build on with Dana, Tony has none of that.
Jim hopes, sometimes, that being around Dana will help Tony let go of some of his own fears.
Jim makes his way to the workshop, where he knows he’ll find Tony and Dana surrounded by projections of stars and galaxies and none of the heavy machinery or dangerous toys Tony has around anywhere near his daughter.
He leans against the door and watches Tony dance around in between stars with the girl, pointing out this or that cluster and telling her about all the things he’s going to invent and all the places she might get to see when she’s grown up. It takes him a moment to realize that he isn’t the only one watching.
Steve Rogers is standing in a corner, eyes following Tony’s every movement and his expression is one that tells Jim he’s just seen a side to Tony Stark he never thought existed. It makes sense. Not many people know that Tony is not only a drunk eccentric genius asshole (an assessment Jim feels perfectly comfortable making, because he knows the guy) but also someone who cares – sometimes too much, Jim thinks darkly and pushes the image of Obadiah away – and loves and does what he can to protect himself and those limited few he’s allowed close.
Jim remembers Tony’s tone of voice when he mentioned that Captain America might hate him, and smiles to himself. It won’t hurt for Steve Rogers to see this side of Tony.
Rogers looks somewhat uncomfortable for a moment; Jim has none of his apparent concerns about eavesdropping himself. Tony’s done it often enough that Jim considers this payback, if anything at all, but Rogers doesn’t have that history with Tony, so he takes a step forward and breaks the spell Tony and Dana are under. “Stark,” he says.
“How many times have I told you to call me Tony, Cap?” Tony replies once he’s caught himself, hiding his surprise quickly enough by nuzzling Dana’s neck and making her laugh and squeal and grab at his hair. Rogers seems both pole-axed and fascinated at the same time.
“I didn’t know you liked children,” Rogers mutters, shuffling his feet a little and blinking at Tony and Dana, and Jim knows Tony’s answer before it’s even left Tony’s mouth.
“I don’t,” quick and sure. “But this is Dani and she’s Rhodey’s baby and I found her and she’s—she’s gorgeous, isn’t she?” Jim will never not love the quick and tender look Tony gives Dana, then. “Aren’t you, little girl?”
Rogers looks smitten, and Jim’s not sure whether it’s with Tony or with Dana, or both.
“Wait, you found her?”
Tony nods, slowly, and the expression on his face goes from tender to dangerous and dark to a little lost in a matter of seconds. Jim doesn’t know Rogers very well, but he can read the understanding dawning on his face well enough when Tony says: “Yeah. She was abandoned.”
“Oh.” Steve puts one hand on Tony’s shoulder, squeezing a little. They still haven’t noticed Jim’s been watching them. “I’m sorry.” It shouldn’t make sense for him to say that, but it does and Jim sees Tony’s face light up for a moment, before Tony nods again. He’s happy for his friend, but he’s known Tony since college and the man has left him hanging one too many times for Jim not to interrupt them that very moment and take his revenge for that one time Tony whisked Lisa Simons away from him.
“The two of you aren’t going to start making out where my daughter can see you, are you?”
Steve Rogers blushes, but the look he gives Tony is more hopeful than anything else, and Jim knows Tony’s seen it, too, if the sudden expression of glee is any indication. Maybe his revenge turned out to be doing Tony a favor, then, but Jim can’t find it in him to mind.
He wants Tony happy. And Steve Rogers seems like someone who could take care of Tony, too. Jim has his hands full with Dana for now.
Things calm down a little after that – and by ‘calm down’ Jim means that Tony calls him a little less often, and also Dana starts sleeping through the night, which does wonders for his peace of mind and energy reserves. What he doesn’t mean is that things calm down for the Avengers: quite the opposite. There’s Loki, first, and once they’ve dealt with him, for the time being, there’s an alien invasion that the Avengers barely stop in time. The news coverage of those events is good, and Jim watches it all on TV and thinks that he should be there. He has the suit and with it the responsibility to do what he can. He should be out there, helping them, or back on base, coordinating air force support with the Avengers, or out there, giving air support. He’s a pilot and a fighter, and he has a duty to his country.
Dana Antonia Rhodes gives a wail and he picks her up and rocks her, slowly wandering about the living room, his eyes trained on the TV screen. A particularly loud explosion makes her cry harder. He looks down on his daughter and smiles.
He has a responsibility to her, too. And, he thinks, in a way, he’s helping his country by raising her. It’s one more child social services do not have raise on the taxpayers’ money, after all.
He knows a justification when he sees one, though.
The next morning, he calls Nick Fury and a month later, he’s on S.H.I.E.L.D.’s payroll rather than the air force’s. Dana and he move into the mansion with the rest of the Avengers.
Jim Rhodes becomes a part-time Avenger, and there’s a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent looking after Dana every time he goes out. He trusts Agent Coulson most with his daughter, but the others are competent as well. They can protect Dana during his absence.
Every time he leaves, he’s scared for her sake, scared that something will happen to her and equally scared that something will happen to him. She’s been abandoned once, he doesn’t want to do it to her again. Still, he’s never been one for sitting on his ass and this is the best way he knows how to combine his responsibility to his country with his responsibility to her.
She’ll never have a normal life, he thinks, growing up with the Avengers—but he can’t imagine that she’ll mind.