one.
⚙️
Summer was winding down, a fact that weighed on Tony this morning. It wasn’t the usual melancholy over the end of beach weather or warm nights on the deck—it was something bigger. A new chapter was about to start. School. Peter was seven now, and as much as Tony wanted to bury the Afghanistan kidnapping in the rearview mirror, it seemed like only yesterday. It was time for Peter to start having something close to a normal life. And apparently, that meant school.
Tony had been firmly in the "let’s hire a private tutor and call it a day" camp, but Pepper—smart, endlessly patient Pepper—had sat him down. She'd gone on about how isolating Peter from kids his age would be a disservice, in the long run, to both of them. Peter needed friends, she'd said. Tony had grumbled, but deep down, he knew she was right.
Sure, they’d made a couple of playground friends, but that was only on the days Tony wasn’t too swamped with work to take him. Two days a week at best, and even then, it wasn’t a guarantee Peter would run into anyone his age. He needed structure, routine—things Tony had never really appreciated as a kid. Still, Pepper had hammered it in with that steady, knowing look of hers. Peter needed more. And Tony? He had a job—a very demanding one running the number one tech company in the world, thank you very much. Peter couldn’t always be underfoot, as much as Tony liked having him around. Neither he nor Pepper would get any work done.
So, school it was. A private one in the Malibu area. Tony had done his due diligence, of course—he wasn’t about to let just anyone teach his kid. He’d personally vetted the place, and as it turned out, one of Peter’s first friends in the Malibu community was attending too. Hudson. Peter and Hudson would be in the same class. That little detail made Tony breathe easier. The kid was nice, and Hudson’s dad was one of the few people Tony didn’t mind hanging out with.
But before Tony could send Peter off to school, there were... security measures to consider. This was Tony Stark's son, after all. Peter would need a bodyguard. One who'd go with him to and from school, blending in without being obvious. It wasn’t negotiable. Tony wasn’t about to lose his kid again.
"Sir, this is your reminder to test your palladium levels and finish that juice you've left on the workbench."
JARVIS’s voice broke through Tony’s thoughts, the AI as punctual as ever. Tony sighed, scrubbing his hands down his face. Right. The juice. And the palladium poisoning. Fun times.
It had started a few weeks ago, after they got back from their Lake Tahoe trip. Tony had been changing out of his bathing suit when he noticed it—veins, dark and ominous, running across his side. They were stark against his tan skin, like something out of a horror movie. Once back in Malibu, he’d locked himself in the lab and run a full series of tests. And there it was—the palladium in the arc reactor lodged in his chest was slowly poisoning him. The thing keeping him alive was killing him, too. How’s that for irony?
With a deep, frustrated sigh, Tony pulled open a drawer, grabbing his palladium blood-testing kit. The juice—nasty, vile stuff that tasted like week-old celery—sat untouched where JARVIS had said. He pinched his nose and downed the rest of it in one go, grimacing at the taste. "Great," he muttered. "Just great."
He pricked his finger and waited as the machine beeped. JARVIS chimed in almost immediately. "Blood toxicity is at 34%, sir. Up 5% from yesterday."
Of course, it is, Tony thought bitterly. At this rate, he didn’t have much time left. Not if he couldn’t find a replacement for the palladium core soon.
He sank back into his seat, eyes drifting toward the clock. Two hours until the meeting with Peter’s potential bodyguard. Two hours to pull a miracle out of thin air and find a solution to the slow death ticking away in his chest. No pressure, right?
Tony rubbed a hand over his arc reactor. It was just another day in the life of Tony Stark—genius, billionaire, superhero, and, apparently, slowly dying man.
Tony let out a long breath, eyes fixed on the array of holographic displays in front of him. Equations, data streams, and 3D models floated mid-air, each a possible solution, each a dead end so far. He knew he was running out of time—not just for the meeting in two hours, but for his body. The ticking time bomb in his chest was an ever-present reminder that for all his genius, for all the things he’d created, this one might get him.
He swiped through another set of simulations, fingers moving faster than his mind. Palladium replacement options. He’d tried dozens by now. Vibranium was out, too rare and dangerous to get his hands on, and most other metals couldn't withstand the power output. Each time he thought he was close, the toxicity levels spiked, and he found himself back at square one.
“Okay, Stark. Come on. Think.”
He cracked his neck, forcing the tension out of his muscles as his eyes darted to the clock on the wall. An hour and forty-five minutes left. Pepper and Peter were still out, probably sipping overpriced juice and eating waffles while Tony sat here trying not to die.
Pepper. She had no idea what was happening. Neither did Peter. Every time Tony looked at them, the guilt crept in, gnawing at him like a persistent itch he couldn’t scratch. He knew he needed to tell her—needed to tell both of them—but how do you explain that the thing keeping you alive is also killing you? And what would that do to Peter, knowing his dad—who had barely been in his life for more than a few months—was falling apart?
He clenched his jaw, frustration bubbling to the surface. Not yet. Not until he had something. Some kind of solution. He had to fix this before they ever needed to know.
The display flickered, bringing him back to reality. He waved a hand, dismissing another failed model.
“Damn it!” The words left his mouth harsher than intended. He pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling. He hated this feeling—helplessness. In every other aspect of life, he could take charge, fix the problem, but this… this was different. This was his body betraying him.
“JARVIS,” Tony said, rubbing a hand over his arc reactor.
“Yes, sir?”
“Run the test again, using the Mark 4 palladium core specs, but increase the power threshold by 10%. Maybe the problem isn’t the toxicity rate but the lack of stabilization.”
JARVIS paused for a moment before responding, “Simulation running, sir.”
Tony stood up, pacing the lab as the holograms flickered in the air behind him. He was restless, the anxiety kept at bay only by the act of working. He didn’t have time to stop and think—not about the way his body was slowly giving out, or the way Peter’s wide eyes would look at him if he ever had to explain what was going on. Peter didn’t need that on his plate. Hell, Tony didn’t need that on his plate.
He paused in front of one the iron man suit, eyes tracing the sleek metal frame. Being Iron Man was supposed to make things simpler. Solve problems, save lives, be the hero. But he wasn’t just Iron Man anymore. He was Peter’s dad. And if he couldn’t figure this out, he’d fail the one person he couldn’t afford to fail and the world.
“Simulation complete,” JARVIS announced.
Tony turned on his heel, moving back to the display as the results appeared in the air. A long list of data scrolled before him, and his eyes immediately scanned the toxicity rate—45%. And climbing.
“No, no, no,” Tony muttered under his breath, his heart sinking. Another failure. He closed his eyes for a second, fighting the urge to slam his fist into the table. There was no time for tantrums. He had to think. He had to—
“Sir,” JARVIS interrupted, “Miss Potts is on her way home with young Mr. Parker. Estimated arrival in fifteen minutes.”
Fifteen minutes. Of course. The meeting. The bodyguard. Everything else he should’ve been focusing on instead of his impending doom. He didn’t have time to keep working on this right now, not with Pepper and Peter expecting him to be... well, Tony Stark. Not the guy with a dying heart, not the guy who was falling apart. Just Tony. The genius. The dad.
He exhaled, long and steady, and closed out the simulation with a quick flick of his wrist. “Okay, pack it up for now,” he said, his voice tight with forced calm. “We’ll have to figure this out later.”
“As you wish, sir,” JARVIS replied.
Tony walked over to his desk, grabbed his jacket, and threw it on. He glanced at the now dimmed holographic displays, feeling a knot form in his stomach. He hadn’t made any progress today. Not really. But he couldn’t let Pepper see that. Not Peter, either.
He looked at his arc reactor again, tapping it once—out of habit, more than anything. “Just hold on a little longer, okay?” he whispered, more to himself than to the piece of tech lodged in his chest.
The door to his lab slid open, and Tony started walking toward it, pulling on his best casual grin. He had a meeting to get through. A bodyguard to hire. A son and girlfriend to protect.
And no time left to waste.
Tony found himself in his personal gym, a space that, until recently, had been more for show than anything else. For years, it had mostly been Happy’s domain—a place where the former boxer kept his skills sharp. Tony still remembered the day he met Happy Hogan. He’d been scouting for a bodyguard when he stumbled upon Happy's sparring match in a grungy gym. Despite leaving his professional boxing days behind, Happy had kept up his training, and Tony admired that dedication. The boxing ring in Tony’s massive Malibu home had been installed for him. Tony sure as hell wasn’t using it. Well, he pretended like he knew how to box—threw a few punches here and there—but never seriously. At least, not until he became Iron Man.
Now, things were different. There was a certain level of fitness he had to maintain. Even in a suit of armor, the man inside still needed to be sharp, fast on his feet. Not to mention the combat skills he’d been working on lately. He wasn’t about to let someone else get the drop on him again. Not after Afghanistan.
Today, though, the gym wasn’t for training—it was where the meeting was taking place.
As Tony stepped into the spacious room, he saw that everyone was already there. Peter and Happy were on the mat, playing—or at least what Peter considered playing. The seven-year-old was trying to “attack” Happy while the former boxer patiently guided him through basic self-defense moves. Peter, dressed in his little workout clothes, was all determination, even if his punches were still more flailing than effective. Happy humored him, of course.
Off to the side, Pepper sat with her Stark tablet in hand, probably going through her endless to-do list. Tony couldn’t help but smile as he watched them, a warmth spreading through his chest that had nothing to do with the arc reactor lodged there. This was his family. Their family.
He made his way over to Pepper, settling onto the couch next to her. Without saying a word, he leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. It was automatic now, the small touches, the easy intimacy that came with being together.
“Well, hello to you too,” Pepper said, smiling softly as she looked up from her tablet.
For a brief second, Tony felt a flicker of panic. Could she tell? Did she know? Was there something about him—something in his eyes or the way he carried himself—that screamed, I’m dying? He thought maybe she saw through him, like he had a flashing neon sign over his head broadcasting his secret. But before he could overthink it, Pepper’s gaze shifted, and she opened her mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by JARVIS.
"Sir, Miss Rushman has arrived at the front door. Shall I let her in?"
Tony glanced at Pepper, their silent communication as seamless as ever. Was this really happening? Were they actually about to send Peter to school—and get him his own security detail? Pepper’s small, affirming nod told him that, yes, they were.
“Go ahead, JARVIS. Let her in,” Tony said, his voice steady, even if his thoughts weren’t.
Pepper stood, smoothing out her skirt as she headed toward the front entrance to greet Natalie Rushman. Tony knew she had already vetted Miss Rushman extensively—Pepper had a talent for background checks that could rival the CIA. He’d gone over the details himself, and Happy had put her through the wringer as well. This would be their first official face-to-face meeting.
With Pepper off to meet the new hire, Tony turned his attention to Peter. He leaned over and called him, “Hey, buddy, c’mere.”
Peter scrambled off the mat, a little breathless but full of energy as always. He jogged over, bright-eyed and slightly flushed. “Yeah, Daddy?”
“You ready to meet her?” Tony asked, keeping his tone casual.
Peter nodded enthusiastically, his curls bouncing with the movement.
Tony’s grin softened. “Remember, if you don’t like her, you can tell me and Mommy, okay?”
Peter nodded again, a little more seriously this time. “Okay.”
Without thinking, Tony pulled his son into a tight hug. Tighter than usual. Peter didn’t squirm or complain; instead, he hugged back just as tightly, his small arms wrapping around Tony’s neck with a trust that always hit Tony harder than he expected.
The gnawing guilt twisted in Tony’s gut, but he shoved it down. He wouldn’t ruin this moment. He’d hold on to Peter as if it might be the last time—because part of him couldn’t shake the idea that one day, it might be. He still had a few weeks, at the very least, before the palladium poisoning got out of control, but the clock was ticking. Every second with them mattered.
Pepper returned shortly thereafter, with Natalie Rushman trailing behind her. If this had been the same Tony Stark from pre-Afghanistan, he’d have made a snarky comment by now. Natalie was exactly the type of woman he’d have flirted with, used his typical charm to make some kind of suave comment about her looks. But now, as he stood next to Pepper, that part of him felt foreign. He wasn’t the man he used to be. His focus was on Pepper, Peter, and the life they were building. Besides, his first thought about Miss Rushman wasn’t anything about her looks—it was whether she could protect Peter the way he needed.
That didn’t mean he didn’t notice her, though.
Natalie Rushman looked like she fit the part perfectly—bodyguard but approachable enough to blend in. She moved with an easy, measured grace, every step confident but not forceful. Her long, curly brown hair framed her face , falling just past her shoulders, a sharp contrast to the shorter, more severe styles Tony associated with women in her line of work. Still, something about her seemed... carefully constructed. Nothing felt accidental—from the subtle but polished look of her makeup to the functional clothes she wore: a sleek black blazer over a fitted shirt, paired with dark jeans and boots. It was all professional without being too formal. Just enough to say “I’m in control,” but not so much that she’d stand out as a security detail.
Her features were striking—sharp, high cheekbones and piercing green eyes that seemed to take in everything. And yet, her expression was open, almost disarming. She had the look of someone who could slip in and out of a room unnoticed if she wanted to, but she also radiated a sense of quiet strength. Tony wasn’t easily impressed by people on first glance, but something about her... intrigued him. She seemed capable.
Tony stood as Pepper led her over. He extended his hand, watching her closely, studying her every movement. “Tony Stark. Nice to finally meet you in person.”
Natalie took his hand in a firm, no-nonsense grip—none of that polite, half-hearted handshake nonsense. Her hands were calloused, more so than he expected, and Tony’s mind briefly flicked to how someone got hands like that. It was a grip that said she knew how to handle herself, even if she wasn’t flaunting it.
“Natalie Rushman,” she replied smoothly, her voice professional but warm enough to put people at ease. “It’s a pleasure.”
For a moment, their eyes met, and Tony could have sworn he saw something flicker in her gaze. It was gone just as quickly as it came—a flicker of something deeper, something more guarded. But then her smile widened, and she turned her attention to Peter, crouching down to his level with practiced.
“And this is Peter,” Tony continued, breaking the tension. “The most important person in the world obviously.”
Peter peeked out from behind Tony’s leg, his curiosity getting the better of him. He gave her a small wave, his voice a little timid. “Hi.”
Natalie’s smile softened, and she crouched down, making sure she wasn’t looming over the boy. “Hi, Peter. It’s really nice to meet you. I hear you’re pretty awesome.”
Peter looked up at Tony as if waiting for confirmation, and Tony chuckled, ruffling his hair. “She’s not wrong, kid. You are pretty awesome.”
That seemed to break the ice. Peter stepped forward a bit more confidently, his small hand reaching out to shake Natalie’s. She took it, her expression gentle, and Tony watched carefully, noting how natural she was with him—nothing about her demeanor felt forced. There was a quiet competence in the way she interacted with Peter, like she knew how to navigate around kids and their energy without overwhelming them.
Tony found himself relaxing slightly. He wasn’t the easiest man to convince when it came to trusting someone with his son, but Natalie Rushman—whoever she was beneath that polished exterior—seemed like someone who could handle the responsibility. And that was more than enough for now.
They had a job to do. And so did she.
🕷️
Peter was really excited about school starting soon. According to his mommy and daddy, and the big calendar that hung on the kitchen wall, he had just two more weeks before it started. Peter could hardly wait. Well, mostly. There were some things he was nervous about too. On one hand, he remembered how much he loved kindergarten before… before everything happened. But on the other hand, he was kind of scared because he was skipping first grade altogether. Plus, school meant being away from Tony and Pepper for a whole six hours every day.
He frowned, his little fingers twirling around his fork as he poked at his spaghetti. The last few months hadn’t been just him and his parents, with no interruptions—his daddy still had his work—but he had gotten used to always having either Tony, Pepper, or even Uncle Rhodey or Uncle Happy around. School meant none of them would be with him, and that made his chest feel tight.
At first, Peter didn’t understand why his daddy was going to hire a nanny. Nannies were for kids whose parents were too busy for them, right? And Tony and Pepper promised they’d never be too busy for him. His little brow furrowed as he thought about their explanation again.
“It’s just necessary for our lifestyle, buddy,” Tony had said, patting Peter’s head.
Pepper had leaned down, giving him one of those warm smiles that made Peter’s heart feel all gooey. “Your daddy might need to go off and do some Iron Man things at any moment, and I’ve been taking on more of the work at Stark Industries. It’s not that we don’t want to be with you; it’s just that sometimes things happen quickly.”
Peter sighed, kicking his legs under the table as he remembered their words. It made sense… sort of. Even Uncle Rhodey had his own job. He couldn’t just come over and hang out with Peter whenever Peter wanted. And Uncle Happy? Well, he had to take care of his mommy and daddy’s security, so he couldn’t always be with Peter either.
That’s where Miss Natalie came in. She wasn’t just a nanny—she was going to be his security, just like Daddy had his. When Tony put it like that, Peter didn’t mind too much. Plus, he’d met Miss Natalie earlier that afternoon, and she seemed… nice. Peter liked her. She was calm and strong and made him feel kind of safe, even though she wasn’t as familiar as everyone else.
He looked around the dinner table, watching Tony twirl spaghetti on his fork while Pepper sipped her wine. Happy was there too, grinning as he finished his plate. Peter’s gaze dropped back to his own bowl, the rich smell of spaghetti and meatballs—a favorite of his—filling his nose.
Tony cleared his throat, catching Peter’s attention. “So, Squirt,” Tony said, his gaze warm but steady, “what did you think of Miss Rushman?”
Peter paused, thinking hard. He looked down at his spaghetti, twirling the noodles as he thought about how to say it. He peeked up at Tony, grinning wide. "I think she's really pretty... and really, really nice. Plus, she’s super cool in the boxing ring!"
Peter’s eyes lit up as he remembered watching Miss Natalie earlier. To show Tony she could handle herself, Miss Natalie had sparred with Uncle Happy. At first, Peter thought Happy would win because Happy was huge compared to Miss Natalie, but in just a few seconds, she took him down! Peter had gasped, wide-eyed, as it happened. It was cool, really cool. Happy had been laughing afterward, so Peter knew everything was okay, but still—wow.
Tony chuckled at Peter’s enthusiasm. “Yeah, she surprised Happy, didn’t she?”
Happy nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, she’s tough, kid. But that’s a good thing, right?”
Peter nodded quickly. “Yup! I think she’s awesome.”
Pepper smiled warmly at him from across the table, her voice soft and kind. “So, would you like her to be your new nanny and security guard, sweetheart?”
Peter felt that warm, fuzzy feeling in his tummy again. Pepper always made him feel safe and loved, just like Tony. He thought for a moment, trying to sort through all the feelings in his head. He liked Miss Natalie. She made him feel safe, and she seemed strong enough to handle anything. He didn’t have to be scared if she was around.
“I think so... yes,” Peter finally answered, looking up at Pepper with a small smile.
Tony grinned at him, satisfied. “Great. We’re going to have her start tomorrow, and we’ll do a trial run for the next two weeks before school begins. If you still like her by then, we’ll make it official. But until then, you can tell us if you change your mind, okay? Your voice is the most important here.”
Peter nodded seriously. He knew that if Miss Natalie made him uncomfortable, Tony and Pepper would listen. That was one thing he didn’t have to worry about. “Okay, Daddy. I understand.”
“Good,” Tony said, ruffling Peter’s hair affectionately. “Now finish up those meatballs, Squirt. You’re going to need your strength if you want to keep up with Miss Natalie tomorrow.”
Peter grinned and took a big bite, excitement bubbling up again as he thought about what tomorrow would bring.
The next day arrived faster than Peter had expected. The morning sunlight filtered through his bedroom window, making the day feel bright and full of possibilities. But as much as he tried to be excited, his stomach still fluttered with a mix of nervousness. Today was the first day that Miss Natalie would be staying with him, watching over him while his parents were away.
Tony had an important meeting at Stark Industries, and Pepper needed to go with him. Uncle Happy was busy with security stuff, and Uncle Rhodey was back on base. It meant that today was the perfect day for Miss Natalie to start her “trial run,” as Daddy had called it.
Peter sat on the edge of the couch, his feet barely brushing the floor as he kicked his legs. He knew Miss Natalie was awesome—he had seen her take down Uncle Happy in the boxing ring—but still… she wasn’t his mommy or daddy. He hadn’t spent as much time with her yet, and that made him a little nervous. He glanced over at Tony and Pepper as they finished getting ready by the door, both of them looking as calm and collected as ever.
Or, at least, they seemed that way.
Peter didn’t know that deep down, both of his parents were worried sick about leaving him. Tony’s mind was racing with a million thoughts—what if something happened? What if Miss Natalie couldn’t handle it?—but he kept his usual cool front for Peter’s sake. Pepper wasn’t any better, her heart heavy with anxiety, though she made sure to keep her smile warm and reassuring.
Peter didn’t see any of that, though. He only saw their smiles, so he told himself it would be okay. If they weren’t worried, then he shouldn’t be either, right?
But still… the uneasy feeling in his tummy didn’t quite go away.
When it was time to say goodbye, Peter lingered in his hug with his parents just a little longer than usual. His small arms wrapped tightly around Tony’s waist, and he buried his face in Pepper’s side, soaking in the comfort they always gave him. He knew he was seven now, and seven meant you weren’t supposed to cry when your parents left—but that was easier said than done.
Tony ruffled Peter’s hair one last time, his voice soft but encouraging. “You’ve got this, Squirt. We’ll be back before you know it.”
Pepper knelt down and gave him a gentle kiss on the forehead. “Miss Natalie’s going to take great care of you. We’ll be home soon, sweetheart.”
Peter nodded, trying to be brave, even as his lip wobbled a little. They smiled at him again, and then, after another moment of lingering, they finally pried him away and left.
Peter stood frozen for a moment, staring at the closed door. His chest felt tight, and the empty space left behind by his mommy and daddy seemed too big. The tears he had been holding back started to collect in his eyes, and his throat felt thick.
When he turned around, there was Miss Natalie, crouched down to his level just a foot away. Her face was kind and calm, and she wasn’t rushing him or telling him to stop being silly. She just held her arms open for him, a quiet invitation. Peter didn’t think twice. He barreled into her arms, his little body shaking as he sobbed.
Miss Natalie’s arms weren’t the same as his mommy’s or daddy’s—they didn’t have the same familiar warmth—but they were still safe. She held him tightly, one hand gently rubbing his back as the other cradled his head. She didn’t say anything, just let him cry until all his tears ran out, the soft sound of her steady breathing calming him down bit by bit.
Eventually, Peter sniffled, pulling his face away from her shoulder. He looked down at her gray T-shirt, noticing how wet it was from his tears, and his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
“I’m—I'm sorry, Miss Natalie,” he whispered, his small voice shaky. He tugged nervously at the hem of his own shirt, glancing back up at her with wide eyes. “I didn’t mean to ruin your shirt…”
Miss Natalie looked down at her tear-soaked shirt and smiled softly, shaking her head. “Hey, it’s just a shirt, Peter. It’ll dry.”
Her voice was calm, soft, but not in the way grown-ups usually talked to kids like they were babies. Peter liked that. She talked to him like he mattered. Like he was more than just a little kid who cried.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she added gently, brushing some hair out of his face. “It’s okay to be sad. I’d be a little sad too if I had to say goodbye for a bit.”
Peter blinked at her, his tears slowing down as her words sank in. He gave a small nod, feeling just a bit better now that she didn’t seem mad about the tears.
“Really?” he asked, his voice small but hopeful.
“Really,” Miss Natalie said with a kind smile. “And you know what? I think you’re really brave for telling me how you feel.”
Peter felt a little warmth bloom in his chest at that. Brave? That was something his daddy would say. He liked hearing that.
He wiped the last of his tears with his sleeve and looked up at her again, this time with a bit more confidence. “Okay.”
Natalie gave him one last reassuring squeeze before standing up and holding out her hand. “How about we go do something fun? You can show me around the house, and maybe later, we can play in the gym. I saw you watching me and Happy yesterday—I bet you’ve got some moves, huh?”
Peter couldn’t help but smile at that. “Yeah, I do!” he said, bouncing on his toes. “I can show you!”
Taking her hand, Peter felt the tightness in his chest start to loosen. Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad after all. He still missed his mommy and daddy, but with Miss Natalie here, it didn’t feel so scary.
🔻
Natasha had ended up in weirder situations than this, she supposed. But sitting cross-legged on a plush, fuzzy carpet in a brightly lit, colorful playroom in Tony Stark's Malibu mansion definitely ranked high on the list. Usually, she was swapping out handguns and switchblades, not handling glitter glue and crayons. Yet here she was, in the heart of domesticity, playing nanny to a seven-year-old boy. It felt... strange, but Natasha had never been one to shy away from strange.
The mission itself was straightforward, even if the context wasn’t. She was here to observe Tony Stark— to peel back the layers of the narcissistic, egotistical playboy the media had created and see what kind of man he really was. Fury’s orders were clear, and Natasha followed orders. Always. For the next two weeks, she would be Natalie Rushman—an overpaid bodyguard and nanny for Peter Stark.
As Natalie, she had a dual purpose: project competence to the adults, while remaining palatable to the child. It was a careful balance. Everything about "Natalie" had been carefully curated—her demeanor, her backstory, even her wardrobe. She was supposed to seem capable but non-threatening, efficient but warm.
She’d met Tony, Pepper, Happy, and Peter the day before for formalities, but today was her first real day on the job. Pepper, Tony, and Happy were over at the Stark Industries complex, leaving Natasha alone with Peter for some “quality time.” They say the best way to learn about someone is through their home. Tony’s mansion was an extension of his personality—opulent, filled with technology, and just the slightest bit sterile, like it hadn’t fully settled into being a home yet. Then again, neither had Tony. Not completely.
Her biggest hurdle wasn’t Peter, or even Tony. It was JARVIS. The AI was everywhere, surveilling the mansion, always watching. She didn’t intend to do anything illegal or harmful, but knowing someone—or something—was constantly monitoring made everything less straightforward.
For now, though, she was focused on the playroom. It was far too big, and far too full of toys for just one child, most of which Peter hadn’t touched. Instead, he was laser-focused on a cart of art supplies, his small face furrowed in concentration as he carefully colored inside the lines of his drawing. A plush Iron Man toy sat beside him, the first time he’d put it down since his parents left.
Natasha glanced at her own coloring sheet, a mermaid she had absentmindedly been filling in. A far cry from hacking into security systems or tracking a target across continents, but the simplicity of it was almost refreshing.
“Miss Natalie, your picture looks so beautiful!” Peter piped up, craning his neck to see her work. His little voice was so full of genuine admiration that Natasha couldn’t help but smile.
“Thank you, Peter! I’m coloring it just for you,” she replied softly, knowing she had no use for it otherwise. The compliment was simple, but the purity behind it struck her in a way she hadn’t expected.
Peter's eyes lit up, his wide, toothy grin almost too much to look at head-on. He was so open, so unguarded, that Natasha had to avert her gaze for a moment. There was an innocence to him that made her chest tighten. How did this kid come from Tony Stark?
“This one’s for Daddy, but my next picture is going to be for you!” Peter announced with an air of seriousness before his brow furrowed in thought. “But... I also need to make one for Mommy and Uncle Happy because I don’t want anyone to feel left out.”
Natasha blinked, momentarily thrown off by the boy’s thoughtfulness. Most kids would be content to scribble something for their parent and call it a day, but Peter Stark was different. Compassionate, intelligent, perceptive— these weren’t things she had anticipated from a seven-year-old, especially one who had been through what he had.
She had been through the file on Tony and Peter countless times, memorizing every detail—every fact that had been deemed relevant. She knew they had been kidnapped together, tortured, that Peter had developed a fear of water and cars, and that he was Tony Stark’s biological son. She knew the basics—his birthday, his height, his weight. What she hadn’t known, or could never have guessed from the file, was just how much of a sweetheart Peter Stark was.
She had expected a brat. The son of Tony Stark? It made sense. She had been prepared to deal with a spoiled, entitled kid. But Peter wasn’t any of those things. If anything, Natasha found herself enjoying the time she spent with him. It wasn’t hard to see why his parents so clearly adored him.
Peter had a kind heart. He used his manners, always said thank you, and genuinely seemed to care about the people around him. He was funny, too, in a way that only kids could be—his jokes often didn’t make sense, but his delivery was so earnest that Natasha found herself laughing anyway.
She wasn’t used to this—feeling... warmth. And yet, here she was, coloring mermaids in a Malibu mansion with a kid who had seen more horrors in his short life than most adults. Natasha didn’t allow herself to think too hard about it. It’ll get old eventually, she told herself. The novelty will wear off, and she’ll get bored.
But a small part of her, the part she rarely listened to, wasn’t so sure.
Her mission, after all, was to evaluate Tony Stark. The man behind the mask. The man behind the public façade. Was he someone S.H.I.E.L.D. could trust? Public opinion was a resounding no. But Natasha knew better than to base her judgment on media portrayals. Stark had been making changes—drastic ones—since his return from Afghanistan. He shut down the weapons sector of his company and pushed for clean energy, but still... Natasha was trained not to trust first impressions.
Fury wanted her to figure it out. She was here to observe, to determine if Tony Stark could be a member of the Avengers Initiative. And while Natasha had assumed her answer would be a firm no, something told her it wasn’t going to be that simple.
Natasha’s mind drifted, her fingers still moving methodically over the mermaid’s scales, blending blues and greens together with more precision than a child’s coloring book probably deserved. Peter’s focus was impressive for a seven-year-old. His concentration on his picture of Iron Man was fierce, his tongue poking slightly out as he tried to stay within the lines. She could appreciate that—attention to detail, even at his age. He didn’t seem to do anything halfway, which was something she had not expected from a child of Tony Stark.
It had been hours since Tony, Pepper, and Happy had left, and Natasha found herself losing track of time in Peter's company. For someone who had lived a life shaped by deception and control, playing the part of Natalie Rushman was oddly... simple. Deceptively so. Peter was not the kind of kid who required grand gestures or constant attention. He was content in his own world, working on his crafts, occasionally checking to make sure she was still with him in the room. He was self-sufficient in a way that made Natasha’s heart ache a little, even if she would never admit it.
"Miss Natalie," Peter said suddenly, breaking her from her thoughts. "Do you know how to build Legos?"
Natasha raised an eyebrow, her lips quirking in the faintest smile. “I’ve built a lot of things in my life, Peter. Legos? I can’t say I have but I think I can manage.”
The boy's grin stretched wider, and he hopped off his chair, running over to a large set of drawers by the wall. He rifled through the bins, finally pulling out a massive box of Legos that seemed almost too big for his small frame to carry. He waddled back, dropping the box in front of her with a heavy thunk.
"Okay!" Peter clapped his hands together. "We're going to build a big tower, but it’s gotta be bigger than the last one I built with Uncle Happy. He said it was the biggest tower ever, but I think we can beat it."
Natasha’s smile widened at the challenge.
“All right,” she said, moving to sit on the floor beside him. “Let’s beat Uncle Happy’s record.”
Peter beamed, immediately dumping the contents of the box out across the carpet. The room was soon filled with a scatter of colorful plastic bricks. Natasha couldn’t remember the last time she had done something so... mundane.
Peter handed her a few pieces, already starting on the foundation. “You gotta make the bottom really strong,” he explained seriously, as if this were the most important mission of their lives. “Otherwise, it’ll fall over when it gets too tall.”
“Good thinking,” Natasha agreed, impressed with his methodical approach. “Stability is key.”
For a while, they worked in comfortable silence. Natasha found herself getting oddly absorbed in the task, piecing together colorful bricks, following Peter’s lead as they started to build higher. Peter would occasionally glance up at her, a satisfied grin on his face, as if thrilled to have someone on his side in this monumental undertaking.
Then, without warning, Peter let out a small giggle. Natasha glanced at him, one eyebrow raised.
"What’s so funny?" she asked, amused by the sudden outburst.
“You’re making the face Daddy makes when he’s working,” Peter explained, scrunching his nose in a mock-serious expression. “Like this.” He furrowed his brow dramatically and narrowed his eyes in a way that made Natasha snort softly.
“I do not make that face,” she retorted, though she knew exactly the look Peter was talking about. She’d seen Tony pull the same expression on the news or during press conferences when he was in deep thought—focused, driven as if the rest of the world ceased to exist while he worked.
“You totally do!” Peter laughed, his eyes bright. “It’s okay though. Daddy says he doesn’t know he’s making the face either.”
Natasha’s retort died on her lips, replaced by a moment of quiet reflection. She hadn't realized just how much of Tony Peter had absorbed into his own personality. That attention to detail, the focus, the determination—it was all Tony Stark, just in a smaller, less jaded form.
She helped him attach another row of bricks, her mind wandering back to the task at hand: Tony Stark. She was here to observe him, to determine if he could be trusted, if he could be part of something bigger. But the more she learned about Peter, the harder it was to see Tony as the shallow, egotistical man Fury had sent her to evaluate.
If this boy was a reflection of Tony Stark's influence, maybe there was more to Tony than she had originally believed.
“Hey, Miss Natalie?” Peter’s voice broke through her thoughts again, and she looked down to see him holding up a small Iron Man Lego figurine, its little plastic arms reaching upward. “Can Iron Man fly to the top of the tower when we’re done?”
Natasha felt a strange warmth spread through her chest. There was something about Peter’s earnestness, his pure love for his father’s alter ego, that made her feel... protective. It was a foreign feeling for someone who had spent most of her life pushing others away. She was a weapon, designed for efficiency, not warmth. But here, with Peter, she found herself lowering her guard in ways she never had before.
“Of course,” she said, gently taking the figurine from him and holding it above the growing tower. “Iron Man can fly wherever you want him to.”
Peter’s eyes sparkled with excitement as he watched her move the tiny figure through the air. “You’re really good at this!” he exclaimed.
Natasha chuckled. “Well, I’ve had a lot of practice doing complicated things.”
Peter nodded seriously, like this made perfect sense. “I bet you’re the best at everything you do.”
The comment made Natasha pause. If only Peter knew the truth behind that statement.
“Maybe,” she said after a moment, her voice soft. “But everyone’s good at different things, Peter. You’re really good at building towers, and that’s just as important.”
Peter beamed, clearly pleased with the compliment. “I like spending time with you,” he said suddenly, without any pretense or hesitation.
Natasha blinked, taken aback by the sincerity in his voice. How could this kid get under her skin so quickly?
“I like spending time with you too,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. It was the truth, no matter how much it surprised her.