Chapter Text
The Avengers Initiative had barely begun, and already, it felt like a disaster waiting to happen. They weren’t a team—they were a collection of individuals forced into the same space, trying and failing to function as one. And at the center of it all, making things even more unbearable, was Tony Stark.
It wasn’t just his attitude—though his insufferable sarcasm didn’t help—it was the way he seemed to keep himself at arm’s length from all of them. He joked when things got serious, dismissed plans he didn’t like, and made it painfully clear that he didn’t care what anyone thought of him.
So when he strolled into yet another strategy meeting late, coffee in one hand, sunglasses still perched on his face despite being indoors, Steve Rogers was already exasperated.
"You know, Stark," Steve said, crossing his arms, "some of us actually take this seriously."
Tony didn’t even glance up as he dropped into his chair. "Oh, my bad, Cap. I didn’t realize I had to schedule my personality around your approval."
Clint snorted. "I mean, it is kinda weird how you always act like none of this matters. Almost like you’re scared of taking things seriously."
Bruce shifted in his seat uncomfortably, while Natasha simply observed, watching Tony’s reaction.
Steve clenched his jaw. "Enough. We need to focus. If we’re going to function as a team, we—"
The conference room door suddenly swung open with a quiet thump.
A small figure stepped in, wobbling slightly on tiny, unsteady legs. A toddler, no older than two, with messy brown hair and wide brown eyes, clutching a tiny Iron Man plushie in one hand.
The room went silent.
The Avengers—Earth’s Mightiest Heroes—sat frozen as the child blinked up at them.
And then, to everyone’s shock, his entire face lit up with joy.
"Daddy!"
Tony shot up from his chair so fast it nearly toppled over. The cocky smirk, the nonchalant attitude—all of it vanished in an instant.
"Peter?" His voice was soft, full of warmth none of them had ever heard before.
The little boy let out a happy giggle, wobbling forward with his arms outstretched. Tony barely had time to react before Peter practically flung himself at him.
Without hesitation, Tony scooped him up, holding him close. "Hey, buddy," he murmured, brushing his hand through Peter’s messy hair. "What are you doing here, huh? You’re supposed to be with—"
"Mommy!"
Peter squirmed in Tony’s grasp, reaching out toward the door as Pepper Potts stepped inside. Her eyes immediately found Tony’s, concern flashing across her face.
"Yeah, yeah, I gotcha, kiddo," Tony said gently, shifting Peter in his arms before carefully passing him over to Pepper. The little boy latched onto her immediately, burying his face in her shoulder.
The Avengers were still staring, completely stunned.
"You have a kid?" Clint finally blurted out, his tone somewhere between disbelief and accusation.
Tony exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck as he watched Pepper soothe Peter. His walls were already starting to rebuild, sarcasm creeping back into his voice.
"Wow, Barton, really putting those legendary observational skills to work, huh?"
But none of them were laughing.
Steve’s eyes narrowed, his voice laced with something dangerously close to disapproval. "You never said anything about this."
Natasha crossed her arms. "Not a single word."
Tony bristled at their judgmental stares. "Yeah, because my kid isn’t a topic for team bonding, thanks. He’s my son, not a PR stunt."
Pepper, still rocking Peter gently, finally looked up. "And honestly, it’s none of your business," she added coldly.
But the tension in the room had already shifted. What should have been a moment of surprise and understanding quickly turned into something uglier.
Clint scoffed, shaking his head. "So let me get this straight—you’re keeping a kid hidden from the world, from us, because what? You don’t trust us? Or are you just that selfish?"
Pepper’s jaw tightened. "Excuse me?"
Natasha’s voice was quieter, but sharper. "He’s putting himself in danger every day, Pepper. And now you’re telling us he has a child? How irresponsible is that?"
"Unbelievable," Clint muttered. "You’re both putting that kid at risk, and you’re acting like we’re the bad guys for pointing it out."
Pepper’s eyes burned with fury. "Do not stand there and act like you care about Peter’s well-being while simultaneously attacking his father. You don’t get to make judgments about our family when you clearly know nothing about us."
"We’re just trying to understand why you think this is okay," Natasha pushed, her voice deceptively calm. "Because it sounds like you’re defending something indefensible."
Peter whimpered in Pepper’s arms, clutching at her shirt. "Mommy…"
Pepper held him tighter, her voice sharp as steel. "You don’t need to understand. You just need to back the hell off."
But they didn’t.
Steve, still looking disapproving, said, "If you really cared about keeping him safe, you’d reconsider bringing a child into Tony Stark’s world."
That was the final straw.
Pepper’s face went red with rage. "You arrogant, self-righteous—"
"Mommy!" Peter sobbed, suddenly overwhelmed by the yelling, his little face scrunched up as tears started falling.
Tony moved instantly, wrapping an arm around Pepper and pulling them both toward the door. "We’re done here."
Peter wailed louder, clinging to both of them as his tiny voice cracked. "Mommy, Daddy, go home! Go home!"
"Shh, baby, we’re going," Pepper whispered, pressing a kiss to his head, her fury not lessening but shifting its focus—toward leaving, toward protecting Peter from this toxic situation.
Tony shot one last, ice-cold glare at the team. "You wanna criticize my parenting? Fine. But don’t you ever think for a second that any of you have the right to interfere in my family."
With that, he turned on his heel, guiding Pepper and Peter out the door without another word.
The conference room remained silent long after they left, the echoes of Peter’s sobs still ringing in their ears.
And for the first time since the Avengers had formed, a deep, irreparable rift had formed—one that would never fully heal.