Archive of Our Own

The kids are in town for a funeral
So pack the car and dry your eyes
I know they got plenty of young blood left in 'em
And plenty nights under pink skies you taught 'em to enjoy

There were, in truth, no weeds to pull.

Pepper knew that perfectly well when she stepped out into the garden. Still, she took her gloves, a small shovel, and the shears, and knelt beside the rose bushes. The garden did not need her work. It was clean, watered, cared for. But Pepper needed something to do.

Ever since all of her children had moved out, she had more free time than she knew what to do with.

At least her roses were benefiting from it.

A car passed on the road, its uneven engine sound something that would have driven her Tony completely insane. A dog barked at it once, then again, and then gave up. It was that kind of day, stretching lazily, warming everything in golden sunlight.

Her phone rang when she was at the second to last rose bush.

Pepper sighed, not particularly eager to answer. People were always calling them. People from church, neighbors, someone looking for Tony because something had broken, and it was obvious to everyone that he would know how to fix it.

She let it ring once more, straightening her back and glancing around. At the fence that probably needed repainting. At the driveway where, at this hour, Tony’s truck sometimes stood when he came home for lunch.

“Hello?” she answered, pulling off one glove.

There was a brief silence on the other end. The voice that spoke was careful. Practiced. They asked if she was Mrs. Stark. She confirmed. They asked if she was somewhere safe. If she could sit down.

Pepper frowned, pulling off the second glove with her teeth.

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I am. What is this about?”

The next words were just as careful. Each syllable measured.

They said her husband had been found in his workshop.

They said he had been found by a man who came to pick up his car.

They said it was a heart attack.

They said they were sorry.

They said she needed to come to the hospital. To identify him.

And for a moment, Pepper couldn’t understand it, pressing the phone tighter to her ear.

Identify him.

As if he were someone they didn’t know. Tony had lived in this town for forty years.

“That doesn’t…” Pepper started, clearing her throat. “That doesn’t make sense. He just had his check-up.”

The voice on the other end softened slightly, but the words did not change.

They repeated themselves.

Pepper nodded before realizing they couldn’t see her.

“Okay,” she said, her voice completely steady as she automatically trimmed one of the uneven rose branches. She couldn’t leave the bush like that. “Okay. I’m on my way.”

Inside the house, she washed her hands. Carefully. Thoroughly. The way she always did after working in the garden. Soap. Scrubbing. Rinsing. There was still some dirt under her nails. She scraped it out with the edge of the towel, grimacing. Dried her hands. Hung the towel neatly back on its hook.

She took her keys from the bowl by the door, the one only she ever used, grabbed her bag, and glanced at herself in the mirror. Her shoes and jeans were dirty, but she probably didn’t have time to change.

Pepper didn’t turn on the radio in the car. She didn’t call anyone. She didn’t even think in full sentences. Just fragments.

He forgot his lunch.

He said he’d be home before six.

His heart…

She didn’t finish that thought.

Because it had always been there. Quiet. Controlled. Not a problem, just a small inconvenience.

Not this.

Not…

The drive was short. It always was.

Pepper had done it so many times she barely needed to think. Left at the stop sign. Straight past the gas station. Right at the lights that were always too long on red. The hospital was a low, familiar building.

She parked crookedly in one of the spots near the entrance.

This was where she had spent weeks when Harley was born too early, too small.

This was where Morgan fought pneumonia so severe Tony spent the entire night in the chapel.

This was where they brought Peter when he broke his arm.

This was where, when Harley needed stitches in his calf, Tony held her hand so tightly she could still feel the phantom pressure days later, because he was convinced it was his fault, that he hadn’t watched him closely enough in the workshop.

This was where they met all of their children.

This was where Tony spent at least an hour every month complaining he didn’t need medical help while very clearly needing stitches or something just as serious.

Pepper turned off the engine and sat there for a few seconds longer, both hands on the steering wheel.

And then she opened the door and stepped out.

They were waiting for her.

Of course they were.

A nurse met her before she reached the desk, using her name as if she had prepared for this moment. Pepper nodded. She might have even managed something that resembled a polite smile.

She followed her.

Down a hallway she didn’t recognize. Or maybe she did, and simply couldn’t place it now. The lights were too bright. The air too clean. As if the corridor was only pretending to be real.

At some point, someone started talking to her. Explaining things. Words she was probably supposed to remember.

She didn’t.

But she nodded in the places where it seemed expected.

They stopped in front of a door that looked exactly like every other door in the hospital.

“This is where…” the nurse began, gesturing toward it. “Take your time.”

Pepper nodded, her hand hovering over the handle for a second before she opened it.

The room was completely quiet. And cold. Not freezing. Just colder than the hallway.

There was a bed.

And on the bed…

The door closed behind her, and Pepper walked over. Not rushing. Not hesitating.

Tony looked like he was asleep. Not bloody. Not broken. Not blue. Just… still. Too still. His face was relaxed in a way that was so rare, all the tension gone. No half-smile. No crease between his brows.

Tony.

Her Tony.

“Hi,” she said softly, taking his hand. “Hi, Tony.”

His hand was cold. Not unfamiliar. She had felt his hands cold before, when he worked late in the garage during winter. But this time, they didn’t warm under her touch.

She swallowed.

His hands were rough, like always. There was still oil under one of his nails. A small burn marked his wrist.

He hadn’t finished what he was doing.

Of course he hadn’t.

With her other hand, she smoothed his hair back the way she had done hundreds of times. She stared at his face as if he might wake up annoyed and say something about her fussing over him, about the doctors exaggerating, laugh that she had believed something like this even for a second.

He didn’t.

“You should be at work,” she said quietly.

Tony didn’t answer that either.

Pepper waited a moment longer. One hand still holding his, the other resting against his forehead.

She waited for a breath. A twitch. A mistake.

But Tony just lay there.

Pepper took a slow breath in and let it out. Then, very carefully, she smoothed the blanket over him, as if that mattered.

When she opened the door, the nurse was still there.

Pepper nodded politely.

“Yes,” she said, almost surprised her voice was still so steady. “That’s my husband.”

Pepper didn’t remember the drive home.

She knew she must have driven, because her car was in the driveway and her keys were in the bowl by the door. But the space between leaving the room where her Tony was and stepping into the house was… missing.

The house looked the same. The porch. The windows. The hallway and the kitchen. Nothing had changed to match how empty and out of place everything suddenly felt.

Tony should have been on his way home. Or in the garage, calling to explain why he was late.

But he was in the hospital.

In that cold, quiet room.

And Pepper knew that if she stopped, she wouldn’t be able to start again. So she wiped the table with her hand, clearing away dust that wasn’t there. Adjusted a picture on the wall that hadn’t been touched in fifteen years.

She glanced at the dresser where Tony always dropped his keys, like he was announcing he made it back. Aside from a few scratches in the wood, it was empty.

Pepper exhaled and reached for her phone.

Her hands didn’t shake.

Peter picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, mom. Hold on…” there was some rustling, like he was covering the speaker. “Yeah, I’ll be back in five. Sorry. Hey, mom. What’s up?”

Pepper leaned against the counter, trying to stay upright. Peter always sounded so bright. Always so happy when she called.

“Peter…” she said, closing her eyes. “Are you on campus?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, still sounding a little rushed. “I’ve got a lecture in like fifteen minutes, but if it’s something important I can leave. What’s going on?”

“Go pack a bag,” she said, squeezing her eyes tighter shut.

“What?” Peter asked after a short pause.

“Go pack a bag, Peter,” she repeated, forcing the words to come out clearly. “And please come home.”

“…Okay,” Peter said slowly, sounding very confused. “Did something happen? Is everything okay?”

“No,” Pepper said, swallowing. Her voice faltered just slightly. There wasn’t an easier way to say it. “Your dad… Your dad had a heart attack.”

“Mom?” Peter’s voice changed instantly, small, like when he was five and convinced there was a monster in his closet. “No. What? Did he overwork himself? What? No… Mom?”

“He was in the workshop,” she continued, her voice steady again. It was the first time she had said it out loud. “A client found him.”

“And now he’s in the hospital?” Peter cut in, like that was the only possible outcome.

“They…” Pepper went on, because she had to finish it. She had to say it. “They couldn’t save him.”

The silence that followed was so overwhelming that Pepper had to brace herself harder against the counter.

“…No,” Peter said, and she could hear him shaking his head. “No. That’s not… Mom. He’s fine. I saw him this weekend. He was fine. He just… He was fine.”

“I know,” Pepper said quietly. She didn’t argue. She had seen him herself just a few hours ago. Had spoken to him before noon.

“I just saw him,” his voice broke. “We… He helped me with the brakes, remember? He said… He said…”

He cut off, and Pepper felt her chin start to tremble at the sound of his uneven breathing.

“I’m coming home,” he said suddenly, and she could hear that he was crying. “I’m leaving now. I don’t care about the lecture, I…”

“Take a minute,” Pepper said gently. “Pack what you need. Breathe. There’s no rush.”

“There is,” he insisted, his voice shaking. “There is. I have to… I’ll be home as fast as I can.”

“Drive carefully, please,” she added, because all of her children drove exactly like Tony. Like there might not be a tomorrow.

“I will,” he said quickly. “Mom?”

“Yes?”

“I didn’t say goodbye,” Peter whispered, and Pepper tightened her grip on the phone so much she was afraid she might break it.

“I know,” she said softly.

Morgan didn’t pick up as quickly as Peter.

Pepper could picture her, surrounded by people, by noise, by a life where nothing had changed yet.

“Hey, sorry…” Morgan sounded like she was running, slightly out of breath. “I was just… Mom?”

Pepper’s chest tightened. Morgan was still so young.

“Sweetheart,” Pepper said, not knowing how to begin.

“…What happened?” Morgan asked immediately, like she knew her mother’s tones by heart.

“I need you to come home,” Pepper said, trying to steady her breathing. It was her breath that raced, not her heart.

“Okay…” Morgan said slowly. “I can come this weekend. I just need to…”

“No,” Pepper said gently. “I need you to come home now.”

“Why?” Morgan asked, and Pepper knew she was already running through a thousand possibilities. “Did something happen?”

“Your dad had a heart attack,” Pepper said. It wasn’t any easier the second time. “He didn’t survive.”

Pepper knew the sound Morgan made would stay with her. It would come back in her dreams.

“No…” Morgan whispered. “No… You… No… Mom…”

Pepper listened, her own throat tightening painfully, but she didn’t interrupt. Morgan needed this.

“He was supposed to come tomorrow,” Morgan said, her voice breaking. “To put up a shelf above my bed… He… Tomorrow.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Pepper said.

Morgan started sobbing, openly, loudly, like she had never learned how to hold it back.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she cried, like she needed something solid to hold onto. Any plan at all.

“I know, sweetheart,” Pepper said again.

“I’ll be there soon,” Morgan promised between sobs. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Yes, sweetheart,” Pepper replied. “Just be careful.”

Harley didn’t pick up the first time. Or the second. Not even the third.

But Pepper left a message.

“Harley. It’s mom. I need you to call me back,” her voice almost held. Almost. “Please.”

Harley was busy. Working. Meetings. Responsibilities. Pepper focused on the road outside the window. On the occasional passing cars.

He called back twenty minutes later.

Pepper answered immediately.

“Kiddo.”

“Hey, mom,” Harley said, sounding tired. “You called. What’s going on?”

Pepper could tell he already knew something was wrong.

“Your dad had a heart attack today,” she said for the third time, not softening it now. “One of his clients found him.”

“…Is he gone?” Harley asked after a moment.

Pepper had to pull the phone away from her face for a second so he wouldn’t hear the sound that escaped her.

“Yes,” she managed finally.

For a moment, there was nothing. No sound. Not even breath. And then Harley inhaled, and Pepper could read everything in that single breath.

“Okay,” he said slowly, controlled. “I’ll be there this evening.”

“You don’t have to…”

“I’ll be there this evening,” he repeated. “Don’t worry about anything. I’ll be there soon.”

“…Alright,” Pepper said, and despite everything, some part of her felt relief at his certainty.

“Have you called Morgan and Peter?” he asked after a moment, like he was ready to do it himself if she couldn’t.

“Yes,” she said. “I wanted you to hear it from me.”

“You did the right thing,” he said immediately, like he was the parent now.

For a moment, she could hear his breathing. Perfectly steady.

“…Are you okay?” he asked then, gently, carefully, in a way his voice almost never was.

Pepper turned away from the window, looking at the house that suddenly felt too empty, too unfamiliar, almost unsafe.

“Yes,” she said.

Harley didn’t argue, even though he almost certainly knew it wasn’t true.

“Hang on, mom,” he said finally, ending the call.

Morgan arrived first.

She pushed the door open with such force that for a second Pepper thought something else had happened. Another accident. Another call she wouldn’t want to make.

“Mom…” Morgan said, sounding like something inside her was missing. Like most of her was gone.

Pepper barely had time to turn toward her before Morgan was in her arms, clutching at her shirt, shaking like she was trying with everything she had to hold herself together and failing completely.

“No… No… No…” Morgan kept repeating, her voice still not sounding like her. “Mom… where is he? Mom… Where’s dad?”

Pepper held her as tightly as she could, swaying slightly, one hand moving up and down her back.

“At the hospital,” she said into Morgan’s hair. Hair the exact same color as Tony’s. Only Morgan had her hair from Tony. “Your dad is still at the hospital.”

“I just talked to him,” Morgan sobbed, and Pepper could feel her tears soaking through her shirt where Morgan had buried her face. “He was supposed to come see me… Everything was fi…”

Pepper had nothing to say. No answers. No explanations.

So she just held her and let her daughter cry.

Morgan had always been gentle. Not overly sensitive, not fragile. But always the first to laugh, the first to feel whatever came her way. Always with her heart on her sleeve. Pepper had spent years trying to nurture that softness while still protecting her from the world.

Now there was nothing she could do to protect her.

“You need to sit down, sweetheart,” Pepper said eventually. Not because she couldn’t hold her, but because the room had started to spin.

Morgan didn’t argue, but her grip didn’t loosen.

Pepper didn’t make her let go. They sank down onto the couch together, Morgan curling into her, almost in her lap, still crying in uneven, exhausted bursts.

Peter arrived not long after.

He came in the way he used to when he was little, running from the boys from the other side of town who used to throw frogs into his backpack until Harley got into a fight with one of them behind the butcher’s shop.

But this time Peter wasn’t spilling words and explanations.

He stopped in the doorway and found her immediately. His eyes were too wide, his face pale in a way that didn’t match the warmth outside. His hands were shaking so badly his shoulders jerked with it.

“Hey…” he said.

Morgan let out a broken sound that might have been his name.

Pepper lifted the corner of her mouth slightly, looking at him.

Peter crossed the distance in two, maybe three steps, and dropped down beside her without another word, their shoulders touching. He stared ahead, unfocused, then leaned his head against her shoulder.

Without thinking, Pepper pressed a kiss to the top of his head and started running her fingers through his hair. It was messy, stiff. He didn’t take care of his curls the way he should.

Harley arrived last.

After sunset.

After Pepper had suggested food and none of them let her stand up. After she suggested they should try to sleep and none of them moved.

Harley stepped inside, and for a second Pepper thought it was Tony.

Not in his face. Harley had mostly her features. And he was taller than Tony had ever been.

But in the way he looked around the room, taking everything in, cataloguing it, pausing before making any move.

Morgan was on her feet before Pepper could say anything, pressing into Harley the same way she had clung to Pepper.

Harley caught her easily.

“I’ve got you, Morguna,” he said, wrapping his arms around her.

Morgan wasn’t crying the same way anymore. Now she just sounded exhausted.

Harley looked over her head toward Peter, and Pepper saw the exchange that passed between them. The way her boys had always understood each other without words.

When Harley gave a small nod, Peter pushed himself up slowly, like every bone in his body hurt. Harley kept one arm around Morgan, but rested his other hand on Peter’s shoulder, giving it a light shake.

“It’s going to be okay,” Harley told him, and Pepper saw a tear slip down Peter’s cheek.

“You need to sleep,” Harley said after a moment looking down at Morgan. “You’re exhausted.”

“No…” Morgan shook her head immediately. “I don’t want to…”

“You’re about to pass out,” Harley cut in, tilting her face up to look at her. “Peter will stay with you.”

Morgan looked at Peter like she expected him to argue, but he was already reaching out, ready to take her from Harley.

“I don’t want to go…” she tried again weakly.

“We’ll just be upstairs,” Peter said softly. “Come on, kid.”

Morgan hesitated, but finally nodded and let Peter guide her toward the stairs.

Harley watched them until they disappeared around the corner.

For a moment longer, he kept looking that way, as if making sure they made it to their rooms.

Pepper looked up at him when he came closer, crouching in front of her and taking her hands in his.

He had such big hands.

Her little boy had the hands of a grown man.

“Where are the documents?” he asked.

“What?” Pepper said, confused, feeling her hands begin to shake.

“For the hospital. For the funeral home,” he said, his breathing unnaturally even. “The death certificate. They’ll need… we need to plan the funeral.”

“Harley…” Pepper sighed, lifting her hand to brush his cheek. “You don’t have to… It just…”

“I know,” he said firmly. “It’s fine. I’ll take care of it.”

“You don’t have to,” Pepper told him. They had time. “Your dad…”

“You just lost your husband,” Harley said, his jaw tightening. “I’ll handle everything. You don’t have to worry about anything.”

Pepper looked at him.

At his blue eyes. At his blond curls. At the way he was trying to be the man of the house.

As if it were his responsibility.

As if he were… Tony.

“Are you okay?” Harley asked, suddenly, something like concern slipping into his voice.

Pepper almost said yes. She didn’t want to worry him. Harley had just lost his father.

But nothing came out.

And that was answer enough for him.

He pulled her into him in one quick motion, and Pepper was so unprepared for it she didn’t resist at all. Harley’s shoulders were broad, and he smelled faintly of oil, like everyone in their family.

Pepper gripped the back of his shirt and closed her eyes, trying to match her breathing to his.

But all she managed to do was break, pressing her face harder into him as the tears finally came.

So clean the house, clear the drawers, mop the floors, stand tall
Like no one's ever been here before or at all
And don't you mention all the inches that are scraped on the doorframe
We all know you tiptoed up to 4'1" back in '08

Pepper woke the next morning before sunrise.

The house hadn’t woken up yet. No one was banging around in the bathroom. No one was running down the stairs. No one was making coffee in the kitchen.

The house wasn’t empty. Her children were sleeping just beyond the walls.

But something essential was missing, and somehow they were all supposed to act like nothing had changed.

Pepper reached her hand across to the other side of the bed.

It was empty. Cold in a way that meant no one had been there for even a second that night. The sheet was smooth. The pillow still full.

Pepper stared at her hand resting where his arm should have been.

Twenty-three years. More than that.

She had never woken up alone like this.

Not once.

Even if he came in the middle of the night. Even if he fell asleep in the garage and drifted in at dawn. Even if he woke before her. There was always something. Warmth. Movement. Presence. Him existing in the same space.

Now he wasn’t.

Pepper closed her eyes for a second and pulled her hand back.

Then she got out of bed in one motion.

Because lying there wouldn’t change anything.

Because there were things to do.

Because she had to prepare.

Because Tony…

Because Tony never stopped.

He always had something to do. A hinge to fix. A pipe to check. A roof to patch or a promise to keep.

Movement meant control. It meant things were still working.

So Pepper moved.

She made the bed. Precisely. Pulling the sheet tight. Arranging the pillows. Smoothing the blanket.

In the kitchen, the light was too bright. Or maybe her eyes just hurt. She blinked and went to the sink. There were no dishes. The counters had already been wiped twice the day before.

She wiped them again anyway.

There would be people. There were always people in situations like this. They brought casseroles. Touched your shoulder. Said things Pepper already knew she would not have the strength to listen to.

The house had to be ready.

In the living room, she straightened the stack of car magazines Tony kept buying, never reading, and never letting her throw away.

She adjusted the pillows on the couch and centered the vase on the dresser behind it.

The vase was uneven, streaked with ugly yellow lines of dried glue.

Pepper ran her finger over the rough surface.

Harley had been fourteen.

All too long limbs and sharp angles and restless energy.

And he knew perfectly well he wasn’t supposed to play ball in the house. He knew because both she and Tony told him five thousand times a day.

And he still did it.

The ball slipped from his hands. Hit the table. The vase hit the floor and shattered into pieces.

Pepper remembered Harley’s face. The way he froze when Tony looked up from the couch. The way Tony walked over slowly, picked up one of the broken pieces.

“You gonna fix it?” Tony asked, looking straight at Harley.

“What?” Harley said.

“You broke it.” Tony shrugged like it was obvious. For him, it probably was. If something broke, you fixed it. “So?”

And Harley did.

He spent hours in the garage, muttering, getting frustrated, refusing help. Pepper checked on him twice. Tony didn’t come in once.

But he worked in the yard all day, close enough to hear if Harley called for him.

The next day, the vase was back in its place.

Pepper never got rid of it.

It didn’t hold water anymore. She had tried once, and it slowly leaked onto the carpet. But it was perfect for the dried baby’s breath bouquet Peter had given her for Mother’s Day that same year.

Still useful. Just with a slightly different purpose.

Pepper moved on.

There were still pencil marks on the doorframe, signed with dates and names in Tony’s handwriting.

She ran her hand over them.

09.2008. Peter. 3'11''.

Harley had been going through his first growth spurt, and Peter wanted to be measured every month, just to make sure he hadn’t suddenly caught up.

“Don’t move,” Tony told him, holding the pencil above Peter’s head.

“I’m not moving!” Peter protested, stretching up on his toes.

“You’re standing on your toes, bug,” Tony said, tapping him lightly on the head with the pencil.

“I’m not!”

Tony crouched down so he was at eye level with the seven-year-old.

“You are,” he said seriously. “And that’s cheating.”

“It’s not cheating,” Peter groaned. “It’s optimization.”

“Yeah?” Tony snorted, pressing a hand to his head and pushing him down a couple of inches. “I’ll optimize you in a second.”

Peter opened his mouth just as Tony placed the pencil lower, near his ear, which would have made the measurement smaller than it actually was.

“Dad!” Peter groaned, sounding absolutely betrayed.

“Let him have it, Tony,” Pepper laughed, watching them.

“Nope,” Tony declared, marking his real height. “We measure what’s real. You don’t have to be like your brother, Petey. You’re great as you are.”

Peter still tried standing on his toes for a few years after that.

Something fell upstairs.

One of the kids was awake.

Pepper moved toward the stairs, holding onto the railing as she went up to check if everything was alright.

Her gaze caught on a chipped step. Barely noticeable. And Pepper looked at it longer than she should have.

Morgan had been small enough then to fit entirely into a laundry basket. Knees tucked to her chest, hands gripping the sides.

Harley and Peter had been at the top of the stairs, arguing over who should push her.

Pepper had been in the kitchen until she heard the crack of plastic and the sound of crying.

Tony got there before her.

He already had Morgan in his arms, that calm focus on his face.

“Hey… Hey…” he said gently, checking her face. “Look at me.”

There was blood. Not dangerously much. But enough that the boys, pale as ghosts, didn’t even try to explain what had happened.

It ended with three stitches on her chin and ice cream to make it better.

The boys tried to explain afterward. Talking over each other, waving their hands wildly.

Pepper had been ready to lecture them.

Tony grounded them for putting their younger sister in danger.

But then he had to turn away, covering his mouth.

Because he couldn’t stop laughing.

Because he thought it was actually a pretty good plan.

Pepper straightened, pulling her gaze away from the mark on the step.

Cleaning wasn’t going to help.

But maybe she could at least make breakfast.

If you could see 'em now, you'd be proud
But you'd think they's yuppies

She started the coffee automatically, even though she only drank tea. It was habit by now.

She set eggs on the counter. Bread. Butter, so it could soften.

She reached for the pan.

“Mom?”

Pepper turned over her shoulder. Harley was standing in the doorway, already dressed, ready for the day as if the hour didn’t matter. His hair was still damp, like he hadn’t had time to dry it.

“I just started breakfast,” she said, making a vague motion with the pan.

“I can see that,” he said, stepping closer and reaching past her so that his hand closed over the pan as well.

“Sit down.”

“You need to eat something warm,” Pepper said, frowning.

“And we will,” he replied, gently taking the pan from her hands and setting it on the stove, taking over without hesitation.

“Sit down, Mom,” he repeated.

Pepper hesitated for a moment, then sat at the table.

She wrapped her hands around the mug Harley set in front of her a moment later.

This was all wrong.

Sitting and watching felt wrong. She should be doing something.

Harley moved around the kitchen like he still lived there full-time.

He opened cabinets without looking. Reached for things knowing exactly where they were.

Pepper had taught him how to cook, but Harley had always tried to get out of it, even though he was actually good at it.

“I’ll get them,” he said, sliding the last portion of food onto a plate.

Pepper nodded.

Peter came first.

His hair was a mess, and he looked like he was still half asleep. Older than the day before. Like he had suddenly grown into the age he actually was.

“Morning,” he said quietly, taking a seat right next to Pepper. This time he didn’t lean into her, but his shoulder still brushed against hers.

Morgan looked younger than the day before.

Wrapped in Tony’s old MIT hoodie, the one he refused to let her wash, she looked about fifteen.

She sat on Pepper’s other side and, without looking, found her hand under the table. Pepper turned her palm so she could hold it properly and squeezed it gently.

“Eat,” Harley said, setting plates in front of them and taking one of the empty seats.

No one argued.

They started slowly. Then a little more.

“Did you reply to that guy’s email?” Peter asked suddenly, quietly, but in a completely normal tone. So normal it caught Pepper off guard.

“Which guy?” Morgan blinked.

“The one about that internship or whatever,” Peter said, gesturing vaguely with his fork.

“I told you,” Morgan sighed. “I’m waiting until I...”

“You’ve been waiting like a week,” Peter cut in. “You’re going to miss it.”

“I’ve been busy,” Morgan shot back.

“With what?”

“I have classes,” she gave him an unimpressed look.

“So do I,” Peter mocked.

“You go to community college,” Morgan fired back, and Pepper saw Harley roll his eyes at that.

“Okay,” Peter said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Wow.”

“I’m just saying,” Morgan muttered, pouring herself coffee.

“Oh no,” Peter scoffed. “You implied that my…”

“You’re doing your…” Morgan tried.

“Shut up,” Harley said without looking up from his plate.

They both went quiet, but Pepper could see the looks they were still throwing at each other.

When Peter reached for the salt, Morgan reached for the butter just to bump his elbow. He nudged her right back.

“Don’t start,” Peter muttered.

“You started.”

“I asked you a question.”

“You judged me.”

“I didn’t…”

Pepper couldn’t take her eyes off them.

The way they talked over each other. The way they fit together without effort. The way it was so painfully normal.

They weren’t talking about yesterday.

They weren’t talking about what was coming.

They were talking about classes. Work.

About how one of Peter’s professors contradicted himself. About Morgan’s roommate who left dirty socks on the floor. About traffic in LA.

About nothing that mattered.

About everything that did.

They sounded… Older.

Their voices deeper. Their words more certain. They had lives Pepper only saw pieces of. People she had never met.

They had jobs.

Deadlines.

Plans.

They drank coffee.

Adults.

All three of them.

Tony would have loved this.

The noise. The chaos.

The way they nudged each other, talked over each other, fit together so easily.

Pepper could picture it so clearly it almost felt real.

Tony leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, shaking his head with a smile.

“Would you look at you,” he would have said. “Drinking coffee like you’ve got something important to do.”

Peter would have told him to leave them alone.

Harley would have either said something sharper or not looked at him at all, just smiled into his mug.

“And still talking nonsense,” Tony would have added. “Unbelievable.”

Tony would have laughed.

God, he would have been so pleased.

Pepper smiled at the thought, watching her children who were no longer children.

“We should go to the funeral home today,” Harley said, clearing his throat, and the real world came crashing back so suddenly it almost knocked the air out of her.

Peter’s jaw tightened. Morgan looked out the window.

“After breakfast,” Pepper said.

Your funeral was beautiful
I bet God heard you comin'

The church was smaller than Pepper remembered.

Or maybe she had just never seen it this full before.

Every bench was taken. People stood along the walls. Pressed in near the entrance.

She recognized more faces than she expected. People from the hardware store. From the produce stand. People from the church council. People she hadn’t seen in years. People she had maybe seen once.

They had all come.

And that made Pepper want to cry more than anything else so far.

The casket stood at the front. No shine. No decorations. No carving. Just wood that Tony would have called perfectly sufficient.

There were no flowers, no arrangements. Just one photo of Tony, smiling wide, eyes narrowed in the sun. And a single bouquet of roses from their garden.

The immediate family sat in the front row.

Harley was beside her, his hand wrapped tightly around hers, Morgan pressed into his other side. Peter sat with his elbows on his knees, his leg bouncing, his eyes fixed on the casket without looking away even for a second. He barely blinked.

The pastor spoke in a practiced rhythm. One Pepper knew from the Sundays they sometimes made it to church.

“…a man who gave so much of himself…”

“…a presence in this community…”

“…a loss that will be felt deeply…”

“…the world is lesser without him…”

Pepper heard all of it.

But none of it settled.

Her eyes moved across the church instead.

In the second row sat Peggy Rogers.

Her hands were wrapped tightly around a rosary, knuckles pale. Pepper hadn’t seen her in months. Tony had fixed her porch after a storm last spring. Refused to take a single dollar. Pepper remembered standing in the kitchen, telling him he should at least take something.

He hadn’t.

By the wall stood two men Pepper barely recognized. Barnes and Wilson, she thought. They ran a small scrapyard outside town, if those were them.

They wore leather jackets and held their caps in their hands. They looked like they didn’t quite belong in a church.

Pepper was sure those were the men Tony spent evenings with when he said something had come up.

Near the aisle sat a young couple whispering to each other. The woman’s hand rested on a stomach that was only just beginning to show. Tony had helped them once with their plumbing. Wanda’s husband had been from out of the country and struggled with how things worked here.

The pastor kept talking.

“…good man…”

“…always there…”

“…this town…”

Pepper ignored him completely.

In the third row, a man wiped at his eyes like he didn’t want anyone to notice. Tony would have noticed. And he would have teased him about it every time they talked after. Tony and Rhodey were friends like that.

Near the back, a teenage boy tried to sit still the way he was supposed to, but his whole head trembled. Barton’s boy. Tony had been working on the car meant to be his sixteenth birthday present.

His father had been the one to find Tony.

The pastor kept speaking.

Words about heaven.

About peace.

About rest.

Pepper almost smiled at that.

Because Tony never rested.

Not really.

And if there was a place after this, he probably walked into it loud.

Talking.

Arguing.

Fixing something that didn’t need fixing.

Harley tightened his grip on her hand, and Pepper looked at him. At the way he stared straight ahead, jaw clenched, like he was holding himself together by force.

Pepper brushed her thumb over his hand, and she saw his whole face tighten for a second in response. He pulled Morgan closer, maybe more for himself than for her.

Peter still hadn’t looked away from the casket.

The pastor continued.

Something about memory.

About legacy.

Pepper didn’t feel like those words belonged to her. To Tony. Not now. Maybe never.

She focused instead on the sunlight filtering through the stained glass. On the dust moving slowly through the air.

The church was full.

Full of the things Tony had done. Small moments Pepper couldn’t even measure. She didn’t need the pastor to tell her that.

Beside her, Harley shifted.

Pepper glanced at him as he let go of her hand and stood.

His back straight. His head high.

The pastor stepped away from the microphone.

The kids are in town for a funeral
And the grass all smells the same as the day you broke your arm swingin'
On that kid out on the river
You bailed him out, never said a thing about Jesus or the way he's livin'

“Uh…”

Harley took a breath, looking at the microphone.

“My dad wasn’t…”

He shook his head, puffing his cheeks slightly, looking somewhere toward the back of the church.

“Tony Stark wasn’t…” his voice caught. “...Easy.”

A few people in the church let out quiet, almost surprised breaths of laughter.

God. That was true.

“He wasn’t…” Harley exhaled again, and Pepper wanted to get up and take his hand, make it easier somehow. “He wasn’t the kind of man who talked about things that mattered. He just… Did them.”

Pepper glanced at the casket, then back at Harley.

“He didn’t sit still. Ever,” Harley said, looking off to the side, in the direction where the workshop would be, as if he could still see it from here. “If something was broken, he fixed it. If someone needed help, he helped. It didn’t matter if it was two in the morning, or that he hadn’t slept…” his jaw tightened briefly. “Or that he should have said no.”

“I hated it,” Harley admitted, looking up toward the ceiling.

Pepper felt Peter shift beside her, finally pulling his gaze away from the casket, as if the words shocked him. Pepper didn’t think they should.

“I didn’t get it,” Harley continued. “I thought he… Let people take advantage of him. I thought it was stupid.”

He glanced at them for a second, but Pepper didn’t manage to catch his eyes.

“I got into a fight once,” Harley said.

Pepper knew exactly which one he meant. Of all the fights Harley had been in, only one had really been a fight.

“In high school,” Harley added. “Nothing serious. Just stupid.”

“The sheriff called my dad to come pick me up,” he went on.

Pepper remembered that call. The way her stomach dropped. The way Tony kissed her cheek and walked out without a word.

Harley gave a small, almost private smile, even though Pepper knew there had been nothing funny about that night.

“I was sure he’d be furious,” Harley said, shaking his head. “That he’d yell. Ground me. Lecture me. Make it a whole thing.”

“But he didn’t say anything,” Harley lowered his head, closing his eyes for a moment. “He checked if my busted lip and black eye were the only damage… And drove me home.”

Pepper remembered how Tony kept repeating that Harley was fine. Over and over. More for himself than for her.

“The next day, he woke me up before six,” Harley continued. “Told me to get dressed and took me to the workshop.”

Pepper remembered telling Tony not to go too far with punishment. He had promised her he wasn’t planning anything crazy.

“And he made me work,” Harley said. “Not on anything interesting. Not on projects or upgrades. Just… Helping people.”

He tightened his hands on the podium, rolling his eyes faintly.

“Fixing small things. Carrying stuff. Cleaning,” he listed. “Whatever anyone needed.”

“For months,” he added, shaking his head, a quiet, disbelieving smile flickering again.

“I was so mad,” Harley said, and Pepper remembered slammed doors and short answers at dinner. “I was sure it was completely unfair.”

He went quiet for a second, staring ahead, blinking.

Pepper didn’t even dare to breathe.

“Now I know it wasn’t a punishment,” he said finally. “He was trying to show me something.”

“What kind of man I should be.”

Pepper felt her heart pounding so loudly she thought Harley might hear it from the front.

“What kind of man he was.”

Harley clenched his jaw and looked at the casket again. Pepper followed his gaze. She knew most of the church did the same.

“I’m not him,” Harley said quietly, and Pepper’s throat tightened painfully.

“I can’t be,” he continued. “I’ll never be that good.”

A tear slipped down Pepper’s cheek.

“But I’ll try,” Harley said, and now his voice was steady. Stronger.

Pepper looked at her son. Her grown, impossible, good son, standing there, looking straight at his father’s casket.

“I’ll take care of it,” Harley said.

Pepper knew he wasn’t speaking to them.

“I’ll take care of them. You don’t have to worry anymore.”

Pepper had to lower her gaze. Her vision blurred with tears.

“You can rest now,” Harley said, with a kind of determination Pepper didn’t recognize. “For the first time in your life.”

A quiet sob escaped her before she could stop it, like if she didn’t let it out she wouldn’t be able to breathe.

Harley was beside her a moment later, taking her hand again.

And for a moment, Pepper could almost believe Tony was still there.

In him.

In all of them.

If you could see 'em now, you'd be proud
But you'd think they's yuppies
Your funeral was beautiful
I bet God heard you comin'

The house filled up much faster than Pepper expected.

Voices overlapped until it was hard to tell who was saying what. Those kinds of voices people used when they didn’t know what to say, but wanted to show they cared without imposing.

Hands landed on her shoulders. People pulled her into hugs that lasted a second too long.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“He was a good man.”
“He helped me when…”
“He’ll be missed.”
“If you need anything…”

Pepper heard every word.

She heard none of them.

She nodded. Thanked them. Shook hands and let it all wash over her the way the pastor’s words had.

Someone brought a casserole. Someone brought a cake. Someone brought something else entirely. The kitchen was running out of space. They told her she didn’t have to return the dishes.

Tony would have found that hilarious. He would have laughed that they wouldn’t need to cook for a month, and that they’d never run out of containers to send food home with the kids.

Pepper almost turned to him to say it first.

But Tony wasn’t there.

The kids were.

Peter stood near the entrance, greeting people, letting them in. Saying thank you. Listening to stories he had probably already heard, pretending they were new.

Morgan let people hug her even though Pepper knew she didn’t like strangers touching her. She thanked everyone like she wanted to thank every single person who came.

And Harley made sure everything kept moving.

He made sure people had somewhere to sit. That there was enough coffee. He stepped into conversations. Gently redirected the crowd when it gathered too tightly around Pepper.

Pepper stayed where she was needed. Listening to stories Tony had probably forgotten, but that meant everything to the people telling them.

“He stayed up all night fixing my truck.”
“Wouldn’t take a cent.”
“Showed up before I even called.”

At some point, she realized it was too loud. Too crowded.

And she couldn’t find any of the kids.

Not Peter.
Not Harley.
Not even Morgan.

She didn’t react right away. Just scanned the house again. Looking over shoulders, through doorways.

They weren’t there.

So Pepper focused back on the guests.

Her children were adults.

And she had a feeling she knew where they had gone.

Luckily, people started leaving.

More hugs. More words. More promises.

For a moment, Pepper stood there, looking at empty plates and chairs left out of place.

Then she moved toward the back door.

The air outside was softer. Cooler. Easier.

The sun was already lowering, the sky turning into that washed-out pink that only existed for a few moments before everything went dark.

All three of them were sitting on the steps leading into the garden.

Pepper leaned against the doorframe, watching them. Each of them on a different step, staring at the horizon in silence.

She walked over.

Without looking at her, they made space.

Pepper sat beside Morgan on the top step, looking out at the sky the same way they were.

Tony loved sitting there. Looking at the sky. The grass. Nothing and everything at once.

And the kids had always ended up there with him.

On those steps, Tony would sit with a book, doing voices for the characters. Not very well. But with enough commitment that Morgan would laugh and Peter would finally stop asking questions.

Harley always pretended he wasn’t interested. That Tony was making a spectacle out of nothing.

Even though most of the time they were reading something Harley had for homework, and he listened to every word.

On those steps, Tony gave first aid for scraped knees and skinned elbows.

“I think we won’t have to cut the leg off,” he would say, studying their faces. “At least not today.”

On those steps, Tony wrapped Peter in a blanket during that stretch of months when he had nightmares almost every night at six years old. He told him about constellations. About stars. About space. About how some things existed even if you couldn’t see them. How some things were bigger than they looked. How the world was beautiful and vast.

On those steps, Harley told Tony he had gotten into college and was leaving.

Pepper had been there. She saw how Tony listened. How he nodded. How he said he was proud.

And after Harley went inside, Tony sat there for hours, staring ahead.

On those steps, Morgan curled up in Tony’s lap and cried when their dog died. Years later, she sat in the same place telling him about boys and friends and things that felt like the end of the world.

And Tony told her they weren’t.

Pepper ran her hand over the spot where he usually sat, smiling faintly as her eyes caught on the railing he hadn’t sanded properly the first time. He said no one would notice.

Until she got a splinter.

The railing was perfect the next day.

The pink in the sky deepened.

Tony loved this time of day. Said everything felt possible. That the world was taking a breath before starting over again.

If he were here, he would be standing behind them, hands on his hips, shaking his head, so proud.

The kids are in town for a funeral
So pack the car and dry your eyes
I know they got plenty young blood left in 'em
And plenty nights under pink skies you taught 'em to enjoy

Life didn’t stop.

Pepper knew it never really did. But some part of her had hoped that this time it might.

For Tony.

Morgan was the first to say it.

The day after the funeral, she stood in the kitchen, staring into a mug she wasn’t drinking from.

“I have a test in two days,” she said flatly.

“Then you should go back to school,” Pepper nodded.

Morgan looked at her, searching her face. Like she needed to know Pepper meant it. That she wasn’t just saying it.

“You should go,” Pepper repeated, smoothing her hand, hoping Morgan wouldn’t feel like she was doing something wrong by leaving.

“I can stay,” Morgan offered. “I want to stay.”

“You have your whole life ahead of you,” Pepper said with a small smile, brushing her hair back. “Don’t stop it for me. But if you need me, I’ll be here.”

Morgan left before lunch.

Peter didn’t say it right away.

But Pepper knew he had something to say when he started rearranging the spices in the cabinet.

“I can stay a few more days,” he said, not looking at her. “But I already missed two days at work… It’s not that important, it’s just part-ti…”

“Peter,” Pepper interrupted gently. “I understand.”

He sighed, turning to face her.

“I don’t want to leave you here alone,” he said quietly.

“You’re not leaving me,” Pepper said, a soft laugh escaping her. “I’m a big girl. I’ll be alright.”

Peter looked down at the floor, unsure.

By sunset, he was already on his way back to college.

Harley stayed.

Pepper didn’t ask him to. She didn’t ask if he should go back either.

He just stayed.

Fixing everything he could.

He started with the workshop. Sorting tools. Organizing projects.

Finishing everything Tony had started.

He put things back together. Fixed what had been taken apart. One car after another. Returning them to their owners. Keeping the promises his father had made.

Then he moved on to the house.

Loose hinges. The step that creaked. The drawer that didn’t close properly.

Pepper watched him more often than not.

From the doorway. From the kitchen. From the edges of rooms.

He didn’t speak much.

But every time he caught her looking, he smiled at her.

In the evenings, they sat on the steps.

Sometimes together. Sometimes not.

And the sky was always pink just before sunset.

A week after the funeral, his phone rang.

Harley looked at it for a second too long before answering.

“Yeah,” he said, and Pepper saw the weight settle onto his shoulders.

“I know…”

“I said I’d be back next week.”

“Yeah. I get it.”

Pepper could only hear the faint voice on the other end, but she could see the tension in him.

“…I’ll be there tomorrow,” he said finally, ending the call.

For a moment, he looked at her like he wanted to apologize, even though he didn’t need to.

“You have to go back,” Pepper said, smiling.

“Yeah,” he nodded, pulling a piece of paper from his pocket, folded too many times. “I made a list. Stuff for the workshop, the house. Things that…”

“I’ll be fine,” Pepper said gently, cutting him off.

“I know,” he said, meeting her eyes.

But he still handed her the list.

The next morning, Harley was at the door before sunrise.

Pepper pulled him into a hug.

He hesitated for just a second before hugging her back. Tight.

“Call me if you need anything,” he said.

“I will,” she promised.

Harley nodded, stepping back.

And then he left too.

The house was quiet again.

Just… Hers.

Everything was still there. The vase on the table. The marks on the doorframe. The chipped step.

The life they had built.

And her children were back in theirs.

They had classes. Jobs. Places to be. People waiting for them.

Tony would have been happy.

Pepper knew that.

He would have teased them for being too good to stay in their small town.

But he would have been proud.

So proud.

And she was proud too.

So proud.