three.
🔻
Natasha had been living with Tony Stark, his girlfriend, and his son for a week, and to her surprise, she was settling into some semblance of normalcy. Well, as normal as things could get for her. The very concept of "normal" had always been subjective, especially for someone like Natasha. She had been molded into a super-spy from an age far younger than seven-year-old Peter, that much was certain. But still, this felt different. Almost... familiar.
It reminded her of the time she’d spent with Yelena and their “parents” in Ohio, the brief period when they had lived as a fake family. Those fleeting moments of stability before everything went to hell, and she found herself back in the Red Room. So yeah, despite the fact this was a recon mission, Natasha couldn’t deny she was starting to enjoy it. Being Natalie Rushman wasn’t so boring after all.
Peter was an easy child to like. He was excitable, curious, and unfailingly kind—not to mention polite, a rarity in most children his age. Natasha found herself having fun playing with his action figures, coloring in books, and reading stories to him before bed. But what she loved most was teaching him. It didn’t matter what she taught—Peter soaked up knowledge like a sponge. If there had been any lingering doubt that he was Tony Stark’s son, Natasha could confirm he was firsthand. The kid was sharp. Quick-witted, observant, and far too intelligent for his age.
It wouldn’t be long before he figured out something was wrong with his father.
The palladium poisoning sat at the forefront of her mind. That was the worst part of the mission—knowing the man she was tasked with recruiting was slowly killing himself. Fury had assured her they were working on a solution, that they’d find a way to help Tony. Every day, it became clearer that Tony Stark wasn’t the man she had expected. He seldom brushed her off, never disregarded Peter, and actually took the time to listen—to Pepper, to Peter, and even to her when she offered suggestions on how to help his son.
It was... strange, but also refreshing.
She had learned other things about Tony too. Like how he was an abysmal cook. She had watched him destroy simple recipes in the kitchen more than once, but what stood out to her was that he tried. He cared. And wasn’t that what counted?
And then there was Pepper Potts. Natasha had always admired women who didn’t take any shit, and Pepper was a force of nature. The way Tony practically melted at her feet was both nauseatingly sweet and impressive. It was a complete 180 from the playboy image the media had crafted around him. Although, since his return from Afghanistan, there hadn’t been a single tabloid headline about his past exploits. Maybe Tony Stark had changed. Maybe he was capable of being more than what the world believed him to be. And if S.H.I.E.L.D. could find a cure for his palladium poisoning—or if Tony could—she was beginning to believe he could be a valuable asset to the team.
These thoughts occupied her mind as she moved around her one-bedroom apartment, tucked away in the far wing of Stark’s Malibu mansion. The apartment was modest, functional. Exactly what she needed to maintain her cover. Glancing at herself in the mirror, Natasha checked her appearance. She looked every bit the part of Natalie Rushman: dark-wash jeggings for flexibility, a simple black T-shirt, and flexible black sneakers. She needed to blend in, not stand out. Her combat boots stayed tucked away, ready if needed.
She reached the foyer before anyone else, which didn’t surprise her. For as well-behaved and polite as Peter was, getting a seven-year-old out the door on time was never easy. And this was Tony Stark they were talking about. The man was infamous for being fashionably late to nearly everything.
But today was important. Peter’s open house at his new school was today, and they were meeting his teachers, getting a lay of the land before he started next week. Natasha heard the telltale sound of rubber sneaker soles slapping against the hardwood floor before she saw Peter. He came barreling toward her, full of energy.
"Miss Nat! Miss Nat! We’re going to see my school today!" Peter exclaimed, his excitement practically bursting out of him.
Natasha crouched down to his eye level, her expression softening as she reached out to ruffle his messy curls. “That’s so exciting,” she said, offering him a warm smile. “Are you ready for it?”
Peter nodded enthusiastically, but then leaned in, his voice dropping to what he thought was a whisper. "I’m also a little nervous. But don’t tell Mommy or Daddy, or else they’ll get nervous too."
Natasha couldn’t help but chuckle at that, pressing a finger to her lips in a mock secretive gesture. “Your secret’s safe with me,” she whispered back, watching as Peter’s eyes lit up at her promise. His grin stretched wide across his face.
At that moment, Tony and Pepper appeared in the hallway, and Peter’s attention immediately shifted. He launched himself into his dad’s arms, Tony catching him with ease.
"Ready to go?" Tony asked, glancing between Pepper, Natasha, and Happy, who had just walked in through the front door.
Natasha stood up, crossing her arms loosely over her chest, a small smirk playing at her lips. She couldn’t shake the odd feeling that had been creeping up on her all week. This family dynamic—though messy and imperfect—was something she hadn’t expected to enjoy. But she did.
The drive to Pacific Coast Academy wasn’t long—just ten minutes without traffic—but the chatter in the car made it feel even shorter. Natasha sat in the front passenger seat next to Happy, who was focused on driving, his face set in its usual stoic expression. In the back, the real noise was happening. Peter, practically vibrating with excitement, couldn’t stop talking, and Tony—being Tony—matched his energy with ease.
“Dad, did you know there’s gonna be a science fair this year? I think I want to enter! Maybe I could make a rocket, or—oh!—maybe a robot! Do you think we could do that? I could use some of your scrap metal, right? Right?”
Tony laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “A robot, huh? What kind of robot are we talking here, Pete? Something that’s gonna take over the world? Or are we talking about a friendly, helpful one?”
Peter’s eyes lit up at the challenge. “I was thinking something cool! Like, maybe it could help with chores around the house! You know, like picking up toys, doing dishes…”
Pepper, who was sitting beside Peter, chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Peter, sweetie, We have JARVIS around the house to help, you’re supposed to pick up your own toys!”
“Mom!” Peter exclaimed, half-amused, half-exasperated. “JARVIS can’t pick up toys!”
“Not yet,” Tony chimed in, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “But give me an hour, and I bet I could figure something out.”
Peter giggled, and Natasha found herself almost smiling at the easy banter between them.
“Dad, you know what else? There’s this huge playground at the school! It’s even bigger than the one at the park. Can you believe that? And they have these huge slides and monkey bars! And the bro-brochure said they have an art room and a music room, and—"
“Wait, wait, slow down, Pete.” Tony interrupted, but he wasn’t annoyed—he was laughing. “Are you sure you’re not just signing up for recess? Sounds like a scam to me.”
Peter shook his head, his curls bouncing wildly. “No way! I’m gonna do all the stuff. Science, art, music—everything! Maybe I’ll even learn how to play the piano like Mommy.”
Pepper smiled fondly at her son, reaching over to gently ruffle his hair. “You’d be great at it, Peter. I’d love to teach you.”
Natasha, sitting up front, couldn’t help but glance at the rearview mirror to catch a glimpse of the interaction. It was hard not to feel something—whether it was admiration or something more complicated—for how this family operated. The way Tony genuinely engaged with Peter, the way Pepper offered her support without hesitation. It was a blatant contrast to the life Natasha had grown up with. But then again, that’s what made her good at her job—she knew how fragile all of this was. How quickly it could be taken away.
“So, a robot and piano lessons, huh?” Tony said thoughtfully, clearly trying to keep up with Peter’s enthusiasm. “We might need to add another wing to the house just for all these projects.”
“Can we?” Peter asked, eyes wide with excitement.
Pepper gave Tony a playful, knowing look. “Don’t even think about it.”
“What?” Tony shrugged, his grin mischievous. “It’s for Peter. I’m just trying to be supportive.”
Peter giggled again, completely on board with the idea. “Yeah, Mommy, it’s for learning!”
Natasha turned her head slightly, just enough to catch Tony’s eye. "You’ll have him building a whole laboratory by next year if you’re not careful."
Tony raised his eyebrows, a smirk playing on his lips. “What can I say? He’s got my brain. It’s only a matter of time before he surpasses me.”
Happy, who had been silent until now, threw in his two cents from the driver’s seat. “God help us if there’s two of you, Stark.”
The whole car erupted into laughter, including Natasha. It wasn’t often she let her guard down, especially on a mission, but moments like this—rare and precious—made it hard not to.
Peter, encouraged by the laughter, bounced in his seat, his energy still at maximum. “I wanna be like Daddy when I grow up! I’m gonna make cool things and help people!”
Tony’s face softened at his son’s words, the usual bravado slipping for just a second. “You’re already better than me, kid.”
There was a weight in those words that Natasha didn’t miss. For all his joking, Tony took his role as a father seriously. And for someone like him—a man who had built his life around tech, machines, and distraction—it was clear that Peter grounded him in a way nothing else could.
Peter beamed, blissfully unaware of the emotional shift in the car. “I’m still gonna need your help, though.”
Tony reached over and tousled his son’s hair. “Anytime, kid. Anytime.”
Pepper watched the two of them with a quiet smile, her hand resting on Peter’s knee, the picture of a supportive partner and mother figure. Natasha made a mental note of the interaction. This—this was what made Tony Stark different. He wasn’t just the arrogant billionaire Fury had briefed her on. He was a father, a partner, and despite his flaws, he cared. Deeply. And that’s what made a good team player.
As the school came into view, Natasha’s mind shifted back into mission mode. She scanned the perimeter, noting the visible security measures and making mental notes for later.
Pacific Coast Academy stood as an impressive private charter school in the area. With its sprawling campus, the school catered to students who either lived there as boarders or attended classes during the day, like Peter would. The good news was that it was home to many children from high-profile families, which meant it already had a decent baseline of security. Of course, "decent" was far from enough in Natasha’s world. When she was done assessing the school's systems, security would be more than just an afterthought. It would be a priority.
Peter’s teacher for the year was Miss Burns, a woman in her early thirties, with a warm and approachable smile. She seemed kind enough at first glance, but Natasha wasn’t one to take chances, especially when it came to Peter’s safety. Before they’d even arrived, Natasha had S.H.I.E.L.D. run a full background check. She had no doubt that Tony would be running his own deep dive into the teacher’s life as well, likely using tech that outstripped even S.H.I.E.L.D.'s capabilities, but still it eased her mind. Another reason Tony would be a major asset to the Avengers Initiative, if she could just ensure he stayed alive long enough.
Peter had immediately warmed up to Miss Burns, his excitement and energy bubbling over as he peppered her with questions and stories. Natasha stood slightly off to the side, her eyes constantly scanning the room. Her training kicked in automatically, surveying every inch of the classroom. She noted the number of students, the parents who lingered nearby, the placement of windows, doors, and possible exits. Every potential risk—sharp edges, electrical outlets, even the angle of the sunlight hitting the floor—was cataloged in her mind.
It might’ve seemed obsessive to anyone else, but Peter mattered. His safety wasn’t negotiable, not to Natasha, and certainly not to Tony. Her desire to keep them safe had started to blur the line between the mission and something more personal, but she couldn’t afford to dwell on that now.
She was snapped out of her thoughts when a small, warm hand wrapped around her fingers. Peter, his face glowing with excitement, looked up at her with wide, innocent eyes.
“Miss Natalie,” he said, almost bouncing on his toes, “I want you to meet my new teacher, Miss Burns!” His voice was filled with enthusiasm. “She’s really nice, and since you’re gonna come to school with me, I thought you should meet her too! That way you don’t get nervous about not knowing her.”
Peter leaned in close and whispered that last part in her ear, as if sharing a secret only they could know. Natasha smiled, the warmth genuine, but an uncomfortable twist settled in her gut. If only he knew.
Nervous was the last thing she’d ever feel, especially in a school. But the thought of what would come next—of Peter eventually learning who she truly was—left her with a quiet unease. She wasn’t just the nanny or bodyguard he knew as "Miss Natalie." No, if Tony Stark did join the Avengers, she would see Peter and Tony again, but not as Natalie Rushman. She’d be Natasha Romanoff—the woman who had been living a lie right in their home.
Pepper would likely understand, she told herself. Pepper knew Tony’s world well enough, knew how things worked. But Tony? He was harder to predict. And Peter… how would he handle it? He was smart, no doubt about that. But a child’s world could be fragile, especially when an adult they trusted revealed a hidden truth. She hoped it wouldn’t confuse or scare him too much. More than anything, she hoped Tony would see that she had never meant them any harm. She was trying to protect them.
Her thoughts weighed heavy, but Natasha quickly buried them. She had a role to play.
“I’d love to meet your teacher,” Natasha said, keeping her tone light as she willed away the unease. Peter beamed up at her, his hand tugging hers as he practically dragged her toward Miss Burns. The teacher smiled, though there was a subtle shift in her expression as Natasha approached. Even in civilian clothes—dressed as an everyday nanny in jeans and a simple shirt—Natasha knew she carried an air of intimidation. It was something she couldn't easily hide.
Luckily, Peter didn’t seem to notice. That was the most important thing.
“Miss Burns, Miss Burns!” Peter called out as they reached the teacher. “This is my nanny, Miss Natalie! She’s also my security guard, which means she has to come to school with me.”
Miss Burns, to her credit, smiled warmly at Peter, but there was no missing the slight tension in her posture. While personal bodyguards weren’t unheard of in the school, they were rare, and Natasha had a feeling she wasn’t what the teacher had expected.
Miss Burns extended her hand with a polite, if somewhat cautious, smile. “Nice to meet you, Miss Natalie.”
Natasha accepted the handshake, her grip firm but not aggressive. “Nice to meet you,” she replied. “You won’t even know I’m here if I’m doing my job correctly.”
Miss Burns’ smile widened a fraction, but she nodded. Natasha wasn’t surprised. She knew the presence of a bodyguard could be unnerving, especially someone like her. But if everything went smoothly, the teacher would hardly notice her, just as she’d said.
Still, Natasha felt the weight of the situation settle on her. She wasn’t just a nanny here. She was keeping Peter safe, and when the time came, someone else would take her place. Whoever S.H.I.E.L.D. assigned to the role would need to be discreet and capable. They’d have to slip into the background and become part of Peter’s world without ever becoming a distraction.
But for now, Natasha was here. And as long as she was, she would make sure that Peter—and the Starks—were safe.
As they left the open house, the afternoon sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the parking lot. Peter’s excitement from the day had yet to fade, his small hand still in Natasha’s as he chattered away. Tony and Pepper walked a few steps behind them, talking quietly, while Happy kept a careful eye on their surroundings. Natasha, always hyper-aware, scanned the area as they made their way toward the car. Something felt... off.
Her instincts kicked in before she even saw him. A man was moving toward them, his pace quickening, his eyes fixed on Tony. Natasha tensed, her grip on Peter’s hand tightening just slightly. She glanced at Happy, who caught her look and immediately shifted into a more defensive stance.
“Tony, hold up,” Natasha said, her voice calm but with an edge of warning.
Tony paused, his casual demeanor giving way to alertness as his gaze followed hers.
The man—a stranger in a plain suit—was cutting across the parking lot, his path direct and determined. He was closing the distance fast, too fast for someone who was just looking to have a friendly word.
Happy stepped in front of Tony without hesitation, his large frame effectively blocking the man’s approach. “Hey,” he said, his tone all business, “step back.”
The man slowed but didn’t stop, his eyes darting between Tony and the others. “I need to speak to Mr. Stark—”
“No one just walks up to Tony Stark,” Happy said firmly, his hand hovering close to his holster. “You’ve got about two seconds to explain yourself.”
“I’m with the district court,” the man said quickly, pulling out a folder of documents from inside his jacket, “I need to serve Mr. Stark—”
Happy’s hand shot out, stopping him from getting any closer. “He doesn’t like to be handed things,” Happy said flatly.
The man blinked, confused, his hand still holding out the documents. Before Natasha could intervene, Pepper stepped forward, her calm professionalism never wavering. She was still Tony’s assistant, after all, and she was used to running interference.
“Give them to me,” Pepper said, her voice cool but authoritative. She extended her hand, and the man, looking relieved, handed over the papers.
Natasha’s body remained tense, her senses on high alert as she kept Peter close, her eyes flicking between the man and the parking lot, looking for any signs of additional threats. One stranger was bad enough, but she didn’t trust that he was alone. Peter glanced up at her, confusion crossing his face, and she gave him a reassuring smile even as her mind stayed sharp.
“What is it?” Tony asked, watching as Pepper quickly scanned the first page of the document. His usual impatience was masked by the calm tone he used when something was bothering him.
Pepper’s eyes narrowed as she read. “It’s a subpoena,” she said, her lips pressing into a tight line. She handed the document to Tony without another word, her fingers brushing his as their eyes met in an unspoken exchange.
Tony took the papers without looking at the man, his face unreadable as he scanned the contents. After a moment, he let out a low, sardonic chuckle.
“Oh, this is just fantastic,” Tony muttered, folding the papers in half and handing them to Pepper. “Guess I’ve got a court date tomorrow.”
Natasha’s mind clicked into place. This wasn’t just any subpoena. She’d seen this play before. She had read through the same paperwork in the S.H.I.E.L.D. files—the government was going after Tony’s technology, his Iron Man suits. They wanted to force his hand, to make him give up his control over his own creation.
Pepper glanced at the paper again, her expression darkening. “This is about the suits, isn’t it?”
Tony nodded, though his usual swagger was now laced with frustration. “Yep. They want me to turn over the suits. ‘For national security,’” he added with a mocking twist in his voice. “Apparently, the government’s a little antsy about the idea of a private citizen having all this tech.”
Peter, his eyes wide with concern, tugged at Natasha’s hand. “Dad? What’s going on?”
Natasha knelt down beside him, keeping her voice soft. “Your dad has to go to a meeting tomorrow, that’s all. Nothing for you to worry about.”
Peter looked unconvinced, glancing up at Tony. “But... does that mean they’re gonna take your suits?”
Tony crouched down, his expression softening as he met his son’s eyes. “No one’s taking anything, kiddo. It’s just a lot of boring grown-up stuff, and I promise, it’ll be fine.”
Natasha watched the exchange carefully. Tony was a master of playing things cool, but she could see the frustration simmering just beneath the surface.
Happy, still standing protectively by the car, shot a glare toward the man who had delivered the subpoena. “You could’ve found a better time for this.”
The man stammered an apology before quickly retreating, clearly eager to get away from the tense situation.
Once the man was gone, Pepper folded the subpoena neatly and slipped it into her bag. “You know we’ll have to be there early,” she said quietly to Tony, her voice a little softer now, as if to ease the blow of the situation. “And we’ll need to brief your legal team tonight.”
Tony sighed, standing back up and giving Pepper a small nod. “Yeah, I know. Let’s just get home first.”
Peter, still looking worried, glanced up at his dad. “Are we still getting ice cream?”
Tony’s frustrated expression cracked, and he smiled, tousling Peter’s hair. “Yeah, buddy. Ice cream first, then boring grown-up stuff.”
⚙️
While having Natalie as Peter’s new bodyguard and nanny was undoubtedly helpful, today, Tony couldn’t have been more grateful for her presence. Court appearances like this were always a full-day affair—grueling hours of endless, bureaucratic drivel—and there was no way he’d subject a seven-year-old to that kind of soul-sucking environment.
The Stark Industries jet had taken off bright and early that morning, whisking them to Washington for a congressional hearing that Tony had already mentally checked out of. He knew what was coming: a parade of suits, too eager to poke at things they didn’t understand.
Pepper and Happy had joined him for moral support and, frankly, necessity. Pepper was his constant—efficient, reliable, and someone who could keep him grounded in moments where he felt everything could slip. Happy was there to make sure nothing actually slipped, and to keep them safe. Tony could’ve pulled Rhodey into the mess, but why bother? They had Natalie now. She was back home, keeping Peter entertained, probably building forts out of cushions and making sure the kid’s day was anything but boring. The idea of Peter laughing, carefree, while Tony faced down an army of bureaucrats, gave him some small sense of peace.
But only a small one.
Because his mind wasn’t here. Not really. Physically, sure, he was walking through the congressional chambers, the weight of the stares pressing in on him, but the rest of him? The important part? That was still back in Malibu, with Peter. He hated being away. Every minute in this circus felt wasted, like time stolen from him—time he could have spent showing Peter how to program his first AI or watching him carefully place LEGO blocks with that look of intense concentration kids had when they were in the zone. Time they both deserved after everything they’d been through.
But here he was, about to face a room full of people who, in his eyes, had no clue what they were talking about. People who only knew enough to try and dismantle something they could never hope to build or understand. People who wanted to use his genius, his blood and sweat, for something it was never intended for. Weapons. Again.
It was always the same. No matter how many times Tony had said no, how he’d shut down the Stark Industries weapons manufacturing division, it didn’t seemed to sink in. They didn’t understand. Or maybe they did, and they just didn’t care. Either way, it fucking pissed him off.
Tony leaned back in his chair, the famous Stark grin flashing across his face like armor. His eyes swept across the room, already filled with reporters, politicians, and their hungry eyes. They were all here for the same thing: a spectacle. And Tony, never one to disappoint, was more than ready to give them one. The Senate Armed Services Committee might’ve thought they had the upper hand, but Tony had been dealing with suit’s and egos for his whole life.
They’d dragged him away from Peter for this. They were going to regret it.
As he settled into his seat, his gaze zeroed in on Senator Stern, who sat perched at the head of the committee like a bird of prey, ready to swoop in for the kill. Tony had dealt with men like him before—self-righteous, deluded into thinking they held more power than they actually did. He didn’t even bother to mask the amusement in his expression as Stern leaned forward, eager to start the show.
“Mr. Stark, can we start with the fact that your continued ownership of the Iron Man suit poses a potential threat to the United States of America?” Stern’s voice dripped with the kind of arrogance Tony had come to expect from these types. The question wasn’t even a question, really—it was a statement, dressed up in formality.
Tony raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. Here we go. He didn’t bother hiding the eye roll.
“I disagree.” He gestured broadly with his hands, as if explaining something basic to a room full of children. “I am Iron Man. The suit and I are one. To turn it over would be to turn over myself, which—depending on what state you’re in—is basically indentured servitude or prostitution.”
He let the grin spread across his face, a challenge.
The room shifted, some reporters smothering laughter behind their notebooks. But Stern wasn’t laughing. His face was stone, the humor falling flat in the air between them. “Let’s move on,” he said, clearly trying to keep the upper hand.
Tony reclined slightly, folding his hands in his lap as if this were all a game to him—which, honestly, it was. They were playing right into his hands. He knew how this worked. He’d spent the better part of the last few months negotiating with a seven-year-old, after all. Stern, on the other hand, wasn’t equipped to handle a man who was used to far bigger problems than Washington could throw at him.
“Iron Man presents a potential threat to national security,” Stern continued, like a man grasping at the same tired argument. “We have foreign countries attempting to replicate your technology—”
Tony barely stifled a sigh. He could already see where this was headed. He glanced at Pepper, who was sitting beside him, composed and calm as always. Her presence reminded him of what really mattered—the family he had waiting back home. Peter. Peter was safe. And that was the only thing keeping him from walking out of this joke of a hearing.
He could feel the buzz of the arc reactor humming faintly against his chest, a subtle reminder of the countdown he tried so hard to ignore. He shifted slightly in his seat, his expression smooth and composed, but the familiar ache crept in, making it harder to maintain his nonchalance.
Stern, however, was relentless. The senator leaned in, his tone adopting that condescending air that Tony despised, the kind that made it sound like he was talking down to a child. “Mr. Stark, it’s not just about foreign countries attempting to replicate your technology. It’s about the threat you yourself pose with that suit.”
Tony’s smirk widened, but there was no warmth behind it now. “A threat, huh? A little dramatic, don’t you think?”
Stern didn’t flinch. “You fly around in a highly weaponized suit of armor, and you’re the only one who controls it. That’s not just dramatic, Mr. Stark. That’s reckless.”
Tony let out a breath, tapping his fingers lightly on the table in front of him, considering his next move. “Reckless?” He repeated the word slowly, almost tasting it. “No. You want to talk about reckless? Reckless is handing over this technology to people who don’t know how to use it. Reckless is what happens when you give my work to people who don’t care about the consequences. You want to lecture me about responsibility? Trust me, Senator, I know more about that than anyone in this room.”
He could feel Pepper’s gaze on him, steady and calm, like a silent reminder to rein it in just a little. Tony wasn’t one to play by the rules, but this wasn’t the time for a full-out battle. Not yet, anyway.
Stern leaned back slightly, clasping his hands in front of him, clearly unimpressed. “We aren’t talking about responsibility, Mr. Stark. We’re talking about security.”
Tony’s expression hardened, the humor fading from his voice. “No, Senator. We’re talking about control. And we both know that’s what this is really about. You want control of something that you’ll never fully understand. You want to regulate me. Control me. But here’s the thing…” He leaned forward now, his voice dropping just enough to make the room go still. “I don’t play well with others.”
Stern’s lips tightened into a thin line, his eyes narrowing. He glanced down at his notes briefly, then back up, his gaze shifting to the crowd seated behind Tony.
Tony noticed the slight change in the air. The shift was subtle, but he caught it. He was good at reading people, especially when they were about to pull a card they thought was a trump. His eyebrows raised slightly, an almost imperceptible sign that he was bracing himself for whatever was coming next.
“We’ve brought Colonel James Rhodes here today to give his expert testimony on the matter,” Stern announced, his voice steady, almost smug.
Tony’s smirk faltered, his confident posture stiffening for the briefest moment. Rhodey? He hadn’t seen him sitting there, hadn’t even realized they’d dragged him into this. His eyes shot to the crowd, locking onto Rhodey’s uncomfortable expression as he stood, his hands clasped in front of him, looking apologetic.
Tony’s heart sank for a second. He shot Rhodey a quick look—one that screamed, What the hell, man? Rhodey’s face, though composed, mirrored Tony’s discomfort. Tony knew his best friend wasn’t there by choice, but still, it stung. Rhodey, testifying against him? They were going to have words about this later.
As Rhodey made his way to the front of the room, Tony leaned back, arms crossing over his chest in a defensive posture. He raised an eyebrow at Stern. “Really? This is what we’re doing now? Dragging friends into this circus?”
Stern ignored the comment, motioning for Rhodey to take the stand.
Rhodey cleared his throat, his eyes darting toward Tony again before he began. “Senator, if I may,” he started, his tone more formal than Tony was used to hearing. “In my professional opinion, the Iron Man… weapon—” he paused, as if regretting the word already—“is a highly advanced piece of technology, and there are concerns about its proliferation.”
Tony didn’t let him finish. “Weapon? Really, Colonel? That’s what we’re calling it now?” His voice dripped with sarcasm, but there was a layer of genuine hurt beneath it. “It’s not a weapon. It’s a high-tech prosthesis, and I’m the one who wears it. You know that.”
Rhodey gave him a look—a familiar one. It said, Let me get through this, but Tony wasn’t ready to let it go. Not yet.
“Prosthesis?” Stern interjected, his tone incredulous. “Mr. Stark, the suit is capable of launching high-grade explosives and repelling entire armies. You expect us to believe that it’s just a ‘prosthesis’?”
Tony let out a short, sharp laugh. “I expect you to believe the facts, Senator. The suit doesn’t do anything on its own. It doesn’t get up and walk around, waving at people and causing chaos. I wear it. I control it. It’s part of me. If you take that away, you might as well take away my legs.”
Stern didn’t seem fazed. “You’ve used this suit to engage in combat operations. You’ve gone beyond self-defense—”
Tony interrupted again, “Yeah, and who did I fight? Terrorists. You want me to apologize for not letting them take over the world?”
Before Stern could respond, Rhodey jumped in, trying to regain control of the conversation. “Senator, if I could—” he began, but Stern wasn’t ready to let go.
“This isn’t about who you’re fighting, Mr. Stark. It’s about what happens when someone else gets their hands on this technology.”
Tony’s expression darkened. “No one else is getting their hands on it. That’s the point. I am Iron Man. There’s no separating the two.”
Stern glanced at Rhodey, giving him the nod to continue. Rhodey took a breath, then looked at Tony, his face a mix of regret and determination.
“Iron Man presents a potential threat to national security,” Rhodey said, though his voice softened slightly. “We have foreign countries attempting to replicate your technology—”
Tony let out a long, exasperated sigh, his hands now drumming impatiently on the armrest. “Oh boy, here we go,” he muttered under his breath.
Stern, sensing an opportunity, signaled to one of the aides, and the room’s screens flickered to life. Grainy footage began to play—footage of him using the suit to take out a terrorist base that had more of his black market sold weapons.
He leaned forward in his seat, clearly enjoying himself now. “Ah, yes. Crucify the man who solved the problem the government has been trying to solve for decades.”
Stern’s expression tightened, his jaw clenched, but Tony wasn’t finished. He turned to Rhodey with that same mischievous glint in his eyes. “You want to take this one, buddy? I mean, let’s be real—nobody’s even close to replicating my technology.”
Rhodey sighed, rubbing the back of his neck before nodding. “With all due respect, Senator,” he said, his tone resigned, “Tony’s right. None of the other attempts seem to pose a serious threat at this time.”
Tony flashed his signature grin, leaning back in his chair again. “Exactly. The Iron Man suit isn’t a threat. In fact, I’ve successfully privatized world peace. I believe the words you’re looking for are thank you?”
But Stern wasn’t about to give him any thanks. His eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward, speaking slowly, deliberately. “We’re not just talking about foreign threats, Mr. Stark. What if this technology were to fall into the wrong hands?”
Tony’s grin faltered ever so slightly, his eyes flicking toward the screen for just a moment before locking back on Stern. “It’s not falling into the wrong hands. Because no one else is getting it.” His voice was lower now, more serious.
Stern wasn’t convinced. “That’s a lot of trust you’re asking us to place in you, Mr. Stark.”
Tony shrugged, the smirk returning, though more subdued. “Trust is earned, Senator. And I’ve earned it. But if you think for one second I’m handing over this tech to anyone, you’re even more delusional than I thought.”
And of course, much to Tony’s dismay, Stern wasn’t finished. The senator’s lips curled into a smug smile as he made his next move. “Now, I’d like to call in another expert,” he said, the words dripping with self-satisfaction.
Right on cue, Tony thought bitterly, bracing himself for whatever nonsense was about to come next. The doors opened, and in swaggered Justin Hammer, a man Tony couldn’t stand on a normal day—let alone in a situation like this. Hammer strutted in like he owned the place, his signature, insufferable grin that looked more like a grimace plastered across his face as if he’d just been invited to a cocktail party instead of a congressional hearing.
“Tony!” Hammer called out like they were old friends, his voice far too loud for the room, clearly enjoying the attention. Tony didn’t even bother to look at him, keeping his eyes fixed ahead, his jaw tightening slightly. This was the expert Stern had dragged in? Hammer? Really?
“Hammer,” Tony replied flatly, his voice devoid of any warmth. He didn’t need to look at Hammer to know exactly how this was going to go down. Hammer was always trying to play in Tony’s league, but he was in a different stratosphere entirely. It was almost pathetic, really. Almost.
Hammer didn’t seem to notice, or care, as he took the stand, puffing out his chest like a rooster trying to show off in front of the hens. He launched straight into his self-congratulatory monologue about how hard his team had been working to replicate Stark’s technology. As if it wasn’t already common knowledge that every attempt had been a complete and utter disaster.
Tony, barely listening, leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms and suppressing the urge to roll his eyes. He let Hammer’s words wash over him, a background hum to his own thoughts. The guy just couldn’t help himself, could he? It was laughable. Every time Hammer opened his mouth, Tony was reminded of how utterly out of his depth the man was. He could talk all day about progress and breakthroughs, but Tony knew the truth. Everyone in the room knew the truth.
Hammer’s tech was garbage.
Tony’s fingers twitched, reaching for his phone in his pocket. He’d had enough. This whole thing was a farce, and he wasn’t going to let Hammer drag it out any longer. Tapping quickly, he issued a quiet command under his breath. “Jarvis, can you hijack this for me?”
There was a flicker on the screens at the front of the room. The grainy footage of failed attempts at replicating Stark’s suit suddenly filled the monitors—suits blowing up, misfiring, collapsing under their own weight. The chaos was on full display for the entire room to see. The gasps from the crowd were audible, reporters scribbling furiously as the spectacle unfolded.
Hammer’s face turned redder by the second, his grin faltering as he realized what was happening. Tony leaned back further in his chair, arms folded over his chest, his expression one of pure amusement. He glanced at Hammer, finally giving him the acknowledgment he craved, but there was no respect in his gaze. Only pity.
“Oops,” Tony said, his voice casual, almost bored. “Looks like your presentation went off the rails.” Tony grinned, twisting in his seat to look at everyone in the stands watching.
“If you look closely, you’ll see this is HammerTechs attempt at replicating the Iron Man suit,” footage of Justin and a controlled suit malfunctioning before blowing up played over the screen, “and if you look here— china, Japan, Europe…” Tony let his voice trail off as he flicked through a number of embarrassing attempts at recreating his suit.
Stern, his face a mask of barely controlled frustration, slammed his gavel. “Order! Order! Turn it off!” he barked, trying to regain control of the room, but it was too late. The damage was done.
“I am Iron Man,” Tony said, his voice cutting through the commotion like a blade. The room fell silent again, every eye fixed on him. “The suit is mine, and as long as I’m alive, it stays that way. I’ve pretty much ensured world peace, and I’m not about to hand it over to anyone—not to you, not to Hammer, and definitely not to the military.”
There was no mistaking the finality in his voice. He was done playing their games.
Tony stood, adjusting his jacket with a casual flick of his hand, his expression unreadable as he looked down at Stern and Hammer—both of whom were squirming in their seats, clearly outmaneuvered. He gave them one last look, a flicker of triumph in his eyes, before delivering his parting shot.
“You want my property?” he said, his voice calm, almost conversational. “You can’t have it.”
And with that, he turned on his heel, walking out of the room with his head held high. Pepper and Happy were right behind him, their expressions as impassive as his, neither sparing a glance at the chaos left in their wake. The flash of cameras and the murmur of the crowd were already building outside, but Tony didn’t care.
They had wasted enough of his time. Now, all he wanted was to get back to Malibu—to Peter. Where things made sense. Where his world was still his own.
As Tony exited the courthouse, the flashing of cameras greeted them like a wall of light. Reporters shouted questions, hoping for a soundbite, but Tony barely acknowledged them. Instead, he threw up his signature peace sign, the smirk on his face masking the exhaustion and strain he felt creeping into his bones. Beside him, Pepper remained professional and poised, her role as his assistant still front and center. No one outside of their inner circle knew about their relationship yet, and she was better at keeping up appearances than he was. Her presence grounded him, though; her calm energy kept him steady, at least on the surface.
Happy trailed a few steps behind them, scanning the crowd as always, his bodyguard instincts on high alert. When they reached the sleek black car parked at the curb, thanks to valet, Happy moved quickly to open the door for Tony and Pepper.
“Thanks, Hap,” Tony muttered as he slid into the backseat, Pepper following close behind. The door shut with a solid thud, muffling the noise of the crowd outside. For a brief moment, the world felt smaller, quieter.
Happy got into the driver's seat, looking back at them over his shoulder before closing the partition. “All right, boss. Are we heading straight to the airstrip?”
Tony was already loosening his tie, leaning his head back against the seat, the adrenaline from the day beginning to ebb. “Yeah,” he said, his voice slightly hoarse, “but give it a couple minutes.”
Pepper shot him a curious glance, but didn’t say anything. She knew better than to press when he was like this—his walls were still up. Happy didn’t question it either. They both knew Tony well enough to recognize when he needed a breather. It was the weight of everything finally catching up to him, the adrenaline running out, leaving him vulnerable to the gnawing ache in his chest. The palladium poisoning, the one thing he could never outrun, was starting to make its presence known again.
He winced inwardly, his hand instinctively brushing the arc reactor hidden beneath his shirt. It felt heavier now, the weight of his secret pressing harder than ever. He’d managed to push it out of his mind during the hearing, the adrenaline masking the physical effects. But now, sitting in the stillness of the car, the familiar nausea and fatigue crept back in. His vision blurred slightly around the edges, but he blinked it away, focusing instead on the faint hum of the engine beneath him.
Before Pepper could pick up on anything unusual, there was a knock on the window. Tony exhaled slowly, thankful for the distraction. Right on time. He knew Rhodey wouldn’t let him leave without a word.
Tony rolled down the window, leaning against the armrest as he gave Rhodey a pointed glare, one eyebrow raised. "Took you long enough," he said, his voice laced with mock annoyance.
Rhodey gave a half-shrug, his usual stoic expression softened by a hint of apology. “Had to let you steal the show first,” he said, his tone light, but the weight of their earlier exchange still hung between them.
Tony’s glare deepened, but it lacked real heat. “Nice testimony in there, Colonel,” he said, the sarcasm biting just enough to mask the underlying hurt. “Way to throw me under the bus, huh?”
Rhodey sighed, leaning against the car. “Tony, come on. You know it’s not like that.”
Tony huffed, sitting back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yeah, I know.” There was a pause, tension crackling in the air between them. Tony’s voice dropped, softer now, tinged with that vulnerability he rarely let show. “But it still sucks, you know?”
Rhodey looked down, then back up, meeting Tony’s gaze head-on. “I’m doing my job, man. Just like you’re doing yours. But you know I’ve got your back. Always.”
The silence stretched for a moment, before Tony let out a long breath, his frustration melting away. He couldn’t stay mad at Rhodey—not really. Rhodey was his brother in everything but blood, and deep down, Tony knew he would never truly betray him. Not when it counted.
“Yeah, yeah,” Tony muttered, his lips quirking into a small smile. “You’re still a pain in my ass, though.”
Rhodey smirked. “Glad to know I still have that effect on you.”
Tony rolled his eyes, but there was warmth behind it. “You got room for one more?” Rhodey asked, motioning toward the car.
Tony hesitated for a split second, pretending to consider it. “I don’t know… Do you think the jet can handle all that military-grade stoicism in one cabin?”
Rhodey chuckled, shaking his head. “Just let me in the damn car, Stark.”
Tony finally relented, nodding toward the backseat. “All right, hop in.”
Rhodey opened the door and slid into the seat beside Tony, the tension between them dissolving into the easy camaraderie they always fell back on. Happy glanced at them through the rearview mirror, then turned around to face forward.
“You good now?” Happy asked, ready to drive off.
“Yeah,” Tony said, leaning back again, his eyes closing for a moment. “Let’s go home.”
As the car pulled away from the courthouse, Tony felt the weight of the day slowly lift, though the familiar ache in his chest remained, a constant reminder of the ticking clock inside him. He stole a glance at Pepper, who had settled beside him, her hand resting lightly on his arm. Peter was waiting for them back in Malibu, and for now, that was enough to keep him going.
🕷️
Peter woke up to the quiet hum of the house. The absence of Tony and Pepper hit him first, and though he loved Miss Natalie, his heart ached just a little. His dad was gone for the day, and even though they had gone over the plan the night before, it still stung when he reached across the bed and found no one there. At least he knew what to expect. That helped, a bit.
The smell of French toast floated into his room, soft and sweet, coaxing his eyes open. He blinked sluggishly as a hand brushed through his tangled curls, and a gentle voice greeted him. “Good morning, munchkin.”
Miss Natalie’s voice was soft, almost like a lullaby, and Peter’s heavy eyelids fluttered open. Her smile greeted him like sunshine, warm and calm.
“I made breakfast,” she said quietly, her lips curling up. “Your favorite.”
Peter rubbed his eyes, slowly waking up, and the thought of French toast had him perking up just a little. He pushed himself into a sitting position, leaning into Miss Natalie’s side as she chuckled lowly, her hand gently rubbing circles on his back.
“Want a piggyback ride to the kitchen?” she asked, her head tilting as she looked down at him.
Peter nodded sleepily, arms raised in an unspoken invitation for her to pick him up. But instead of scooping him up like he expected, she laughed.
“That’s not how you get on my back, silly goose.” Her laughter made him giggle, a tiny sound that bubbled up despite his grogginess.
Miss Natalie stood, turning around and bending so he could climb onto her back. Peter gripped her shoulders as she hooked her hands under his legs, lifting him effortlessly as they made their way to the kitchen.
When they arrived, Peter’s eyes widened at the sight before him. A plate piled high with French toast sat on the counter, along with scrambled eggs, orange juice, and a bowl of fresh fruit. His stomach grumbled audibly, and both he and Miss Natalie laughed.
“I figured we could eat here at the counter, or…” She paused, her eyes glinting mischievously. “We could eat out by the pool and then go for a swim later. What do you think?”
Peter scrunched his face in concentration, as if deciding where to eat breakfast was the most important decision he’d ever made. His little brows furrowed as he thought hard about the options.
“Hmm…” He hummed thoughtfully before breaking into a small grin. “By the pool,” he finally declared. Swimming with Miss Natalie sounded fun, and besides, he loved being outside.
Miss Natalie smiled and nodded, grabbing the plates. Peter insisted on carrying his own, two small hands gripping the edges of the heavy plate. Miss Natalie looked hesitant for a moment but let him, keeping a watchful eye on him as they made their way to the back patio.
By the time they settled at the table outside, Peter was practically starving. He dug into his food with enthusiasm, syrup coating his face, fingers, and somehow, even his arms. Sticky sweetness clung to him, but instead of getting upset, Miss Natalie just chuckled.
“Let’s get you cleaned up before we throw you in the pool,” she teased, wiping a bit of syrup from his cheek. “We don’t want to swim with molasses, do we?”
Peter giggled, chewing on his lip as a question bubbled to the surface. He hesitated, unsure if he should ask, but the longing in his chest won out in the end.
“Do you know when my daddy’s gonna be home?” His voice was soft, hopeful. “Is it too much longer now?”
Miss Natalie’s face softened, and Peter could tell she was thinking, but unlike other adults, she was much harder to read. His dad was easy—Tony had been so tired lately that even Peter noticed the way his shoulders slumped and his smiles felt smaller. Pepper was a little harder, but he could always tell when she was frustrated; the corners of her lips would twitch ever so slightly.
But Miss Natalie…she was different. Peter figured it was because he hadn’t known her as long as his parents, but there was something else too—something that made her harder to figure out. Still, she was nice, and that was what mattered most to him.
Once breakfast was done, and the sticky syrup cleaned from his skin, Peter ran up to his room with Miss Natalie to pick out a swimsuit for their swim. Naturally, he chose the Iron Man suit—he was his dad’s biggest fan, after all. As Miss Natalie helped him get ready, rubbing sunscreen into his pale skin, she asked a question that made him pause.
“What do you think makes a superhero?”
Peter’s brow furrowed, and he thought deeply about it as her fingers worked the sunscreen over his arms and shoulders. His small lips pursed in concentration. After a few moments of silence, he spoke.
“I think you have to be the bravest ever,” he began, his voice thoughtful. “You don’t have to be the best ‘cause no one’s ever the best at everything. You can always get better. But you do have to be brave. ‘Cause doing scary things like fighting super villains means you have to be really brave.”
Miss Natalie nodded, a soft smile on her face, but Peter wasn’t done.
“You also have to have a really big heart,” he added, more confident now. “If you don’t have a big heart, then it means you don’t really care about what you’re doing. Daddy says some people do good things just for attention, and that’s not good. We should do good things ‘cause we’re good people, not ‘cause we want a treat or a prize.”
Miss Natalie’s smile grew wider, her eyes kind and full of something Peter couldn’t quite understand.
“Do you think your daddy is a superhero?” she asked gently.
Without hesitation, Peter beamed. “Of course! He’s the coolest, bravest, and most loving superhero.”
Miss Natalie smiled again, but there was something behind her eyes, something Peter still couldn’t quite figure out. But it didn’t matter. In his heart, his daddy was the best hero in the world. And as long as his daddy was out there saving the day, Peter would be okay.
Peter’s laughter echoed across the backyard as he and Miss Natalie splashed around in the pool, the warm afternoon sun reflecting off the water in sparkling waves. He had insisted that they play mermaids, something he loved doing. He had decided, after much debate, that his tail would be a bright red and blue, with sparkles because, as he explained to Miss Natalie, “heroes need to look cool.”
Miss Natalie had humored him, choosing a black tail with sparkles herself. At first, Peter had protested, wanting her to pick something more colorful, but she had smirked and told him, “Even mermaids can be stealthy.” He didn’t totally get what she meant, but her smile made him giggle, and he let it slide.
They swam around pretending to be underwater adventurers, Peter dramatically diving under the surface for a few moments before popping up again, shaking the water from his curls. He tried to stay under longer, to really be like a mermaid, but every time he did, a flicker of discomfort settled in his chest. The feeling of being surrounded by water reminded him too much of the cave.
Peter quickly pushed the thought away. He didn’t want to think about that, not here. Not when he was having so much fun. Miss Natalie was helping him get better at swimming too, and Peter was proud of how much he had learned in just one afternoon. With her patient encouragement, he had managed to kick his legs and move his arms just the way she had shown him, his small body slicing through the water better than it ever had before.
“You’re getting really good at this!” Miss Natalie said, her voice warm with praise as Peter paddled to the edge of the pool. His cheeks flushed with pride, and he couldn’t help the little grin that spread across his face.
“I had a good teacher,” he replied, pushing off the edge and swimming back to her.
They spent the next half-hour competing, seeing who could jump into the pool in the coolest way. Peter would clamber up to the edge, his little legs wobbling with excitement as he prepared for each leap. He tried to mimic Miss Natalie’s dives, but every time he jumped, his arms flailed, and he hit the water with a loud splash, belly flopping more often than not.
Miss Natalie, on the other hand, was graceful. She dove into the water with ease, barely making a sound as she slipped beneath the surface. Peter watched her with wide eyes, impressed by how smoothly she moved.
“You definitely won,” he grumbled, rubbing his stomach after yet another awkward belly flop.
Miss Natalie laughed, shaking water from her short hair. “Nah, you’re the winner,” she teased. “Your jumps had way more style.”
Peter giggled, though he wasn’t entirely convinced. He was about to ask her if they could race again when Miss Natalie suggested a breath-holding contest.
At first, Peter was excited. He had seen other kids hold their breath underwater and thought it would be fun to try. He dipped his head beneath the surface, closing his eyes tightly as the cool water enveloped him. For a few seconds, everything was fine. The world became quiet, and all Peter could hear was the muffled sound of the water around him.
But then, out of nowhere, the sensation changed. The weight of the water pressed down on him, and suddenly it wasn’t fun anymore. His mind flashed back to the cave, to the masked men, to the moments where his head had been forcibly shoved underwater. The panic hit him like a wave, and Peter shot back up, gasping for air.
His little chest heaved as the memories overwhelmed him. The coldness of the cave, the masked men’s rough hands, and the terror of not being able to breathe flooded his mind. Before he could stop it, tears welled in his eyes, and his face flushed red.
“Peter?” Miss Natalie’s voice was gentle, but the moment she saw his expression, her face shifted with concern. His small body trembled as he struggled to catch his breath, and his tears spilled over, hiccuping sobs shaking his frame.
Miss Natalie was at his side in an instant, lifting him out of the water as if he weighed nothing. His arms instinctively wrapped around her neck, his face buried against her shoulder. The cool air hit his skin, but all Peter could focus on was the warmth of Miss Natalie’s embrace.
“I’ve got you,” she murmured, her voice soothing as she carried him out of the pool. “You’re okay, Pete. You’re safe.”
Peter’s sobs were loud at first, his small body wracked with the force of them, but Miss Natalie’s gentle rocking and quiet reassurances helped. She sat down on one of the lounge chairs, keeping him cradled in her lap. He clung to her, tears dampening her shirt, but she didn’t seem to mind. She just kept rubbing his back, her hand moving in slow, comforting circles.
The pool, the sun, even the wet puddles forming beneath them didn’t matter. What mattered was calming Peter down, and Miss Natalie was patient. She whispered softly to him, reminding him that everything was okay, that he was safe now.
Peter’s breathing started to slow, and he matched his breaths with hers, the deep rise and fall of her chest helping to steady his own frantic heart. His sobs turned into sniffles, his little hands clutching her shirt tightly as the panic slowly ebbed away.
Inside the house, the air felt warmer, safer. Miss Natalie spoke quietly to Jarvis, her voice low but calm. “Jarvis, where’s Tony at in his press conference?”
Jarvis’s voice came through immediately, its smooth tone filling the room. “Boss is currently in the car, heading back to the airstrip, Miss Rushman.”
Peter’s ears perked up, and a flicker of hope blossomed in his chest.
“Jarvis, can we call him?” Miss Natalie asked, her hand still moving soothingly along Peter’s back.
The tears stopped entirely. Peter’s heart lifted, and for the first time since the water had overwhelmed him, he felt a spark of something good. His daddy.
“Yes, Miss Rushman. Would you like me to place the call now?”
“Please,” she replied, her eyes flicking down to Peter with a gentle smile.
In less than a moment, one of the large screens in the living room flickered to life, and there he was—his dad, Tony Stark, with Pepper and Uncle Rhodey just behind him.
“Hey, Pete,” Tony greeted with a smile, but his expression quickly shifted to one of concern the second he noticed Peter’s tear-streaked face. “Hey, squirt…what’s wrong?”
Peter’s lip trembled, the tears threatening to return now that he saw his dad’s face. He wanted to be brave, but remembering what had happened in the pool—the water, the panic—it all felt so overwhelming again. His throat tightened, and he couldn’t find the words.
Natalie spoke up, her voice steady and reassuring. “We were playing in the pool, and Peter got a little spooked by the water.”
Tony’s face softened, a look of understanding passing between him and Pepper. They knew. Of course, they knew.
“Oh, buddy,” Tony said, his voice warm and gentle. “I’m so sorry that happened.”
Peter sniffled, wiping his tears with the back of his hand, but they were still sloppy, his little face streaked with wetness. He felt Miss Natalie’s arms tighten slightly around him, grounding him, and he tried to breathe steadily.
“Do you wanna hear some good news?” Tony asked, trying to bring a smile back to Peter’s face.
Peter nodded, the tears slowing.
“We’re about to take off, and then we’re only three hours from home,” Tony continued, his voice soft and soothing. “Then we can hang out. How does that sound?”
Peter’s heart swelled with relief. “That sounds really good, Daddy. I miss you guys so much.” His voice was small but sincere. “Me and Miss Natalie were having a lot of fun in the pool, but then I got scared…”
Tony and Pepper nodded, their faces full of understanding. “We get it, buddy,” Pepper said, her voice gentle. “It’s okay to get scared sometimes.”
“I’ll tell you what,” Tony added. “We’ll have an awesome night when I get home, okay? Uncle Rhodey is gonna join us too. Isn’t that special?”
Peter smiled, the sadness fading into something softer. “I’d like that.”
“Good,” Tony said, smiling back. “Now, I’ve gotta turn off the phone for the flight, but I’ll call you back as soon as we’re in the air, alright?”
Peter shook his head quickly. “No, Daddy. It’s okay. I’m a big boy. I’ll be okay until you get home.”
Tony’s smile grew, pride shining in his eyes. “That’s my boy. I’ll see you soon, Pete.”
As the hologram blinked off, Peter let out a long breath. He felt a little lighter now, even though his heart still missed his dad. He snuggled closer into Miss Natalie’s arms, his small hands clutching her bathing suit as he let his breathing slow. He was okay. He’d be okay until Daddy got home.
“How about we make your favorite sandwich?” Miss Natalie asked, glancing over her shoulder as Peter trailed behind her into the kitchen.
Peter’s eyes perked up a little at the idea. He liked helping in the kitchen, especially with sandwiches. “Grilled cheese?” he asked hopefully.
Miss Natalie smiled and nodded. “Grilled cheese it is, chef. You wanna help me get the bread and cheese?”
Peter nodded quickly, heading for the fridge. He stood on his tiptoes to pull out the slices of cheddar, then scampered over to the counter where Miss Natalie had already laid out the bread. He carefully placed the cheese beside it, looking up at her expectantly.
“Good job,” she said, giving him a little nudge with her elbow. “Now, let’s get cooking.”
They worked together, Peter handing Miss Natalie ingredients while she handled the stove. The butter sizzled on the pan, filling the kitchen with that warm, toasty smell that made Peter’s stomach rumble. Miss Natalie handed him a spatula and let him carefully flip the sandwiches, guiding his small hand as he pressed them down to get that perfect golden crisp.
“Think it’s ready?” she asked, her voice playful as she watched Peter concentrate on the sandwich in front of him.
Peter squinted at it, then nodded seriously. “Yeah, looks perfect.”
Miss Natalie chuckled softly. “Alright, chef, let’s plate it up.”
Once the sandwiches were ready, they sat down at the kitchen counter with a couple of bowls of fruit, munching away in companionable silence. Peter’s legs swung back and forth under the stool as he bit into his grilled cheese, the warm gooeyness of the melted cheddar making him smile.
“This is the best grilled cheese ever,” Peter announced with pride, crumbs on his lips.
“I’m glad,” Miss Natalie replied with a grin, popping a grape into her mouth. “You’re a natural in the kitchen.”
Peter beamed at the compliment, finishing the rest of his sandwich quickly. After lunch, his energy began to fade again, the excitement of cooking replaced by the familiar drowsiness that always seemed to hit after he ate. Miss Natalie noticed, and instead of suggesting they do something more active, she held out her hand and smiled softly.
“How about we cuddle up on the couch for a bit and watch some Wonder Pets?” she suggested.
His mind drifted away from the TV and toward something else—something he had been thinking about for a while now. He hadn’t told anyone yet, but there was something about his dad that had been bothering him. Tony had looked really tired lately, more tired than usual. His smiles didn’t seem as big, and sometimes Peter caught him rubbing his chest when he thought no one was looking.
Peter wasn’t sure what it meant, but it scared him a little. What if his daddy wasn’t okay? The thought was like a shadow lurking in the back of his mind, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake it.
With his head still resting on Miss Natalie’s lap, Peter blinked up at her, his small voice breaking the silence. “Miss Natalie?”
Her hand paused mid-stroke on his curls, and she glanced down at him, her expression soft. “Yeah, munchkin?”
Peter hesitated for a moment, biting his lip. He didn’t like asking questions like this—he didn’t want to be a bother. But the worry had been picking at him for too long. “Do you think… do you think my daddy’s okay?”
Miss Natalie blinked, caught off guard by the question. Her hand resumed its slow, comforting movements through his hair, but Peter noticed her gaze shift slightly, as if she were thinking hard about her answer.
“Why do you ask?” she replied, her voice gentle but cautious.
Peter shrugged, his small fingers twisting in the blanket that was draped over him. “He’s been looking really tired lately,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “He doesn’t smile as much… and sometimes he rubs his chest like something hurts.”
A lump formed in Peter’s throat, and he shifted uncomfortably. “I’m… I’m worried about him.”
Miss Natalie didn’t respond immediately. For a moment, she just sat there, her hand still in his hair as her expression grew thoughtful. Peter couldn’t quite understand the look on her face, but it made his heart beat a little faster. He had learned to pick up on the way people acted when they didn’t want to tell him something, and right now, Miss Natalie looked like she was trying to decide whether or not to say something important.
She took a deep breath and smiled softly at Peter, her fingers still brushing through his hair in gentle strokes. “Your dad’s been working really hard lately,” she said quietly, choosing her words carefully. “Sometimes grown-ups get tired when they’re busy, but it doesn’t mean something’s wrong.”
Peter’s brows furrowed, his worry still etched on his small face. “But what if something is wrong?” he pressed. “What if he’s sick?”
She leaned down a little, her eyes meeting Peter’s, and gave him a reassuring smile. “Your dad is one of the toughest people I know,” she said gently. “If something was wrong, he’d take care of it. He wouldn’t want you to worry.”
Peter stared at her for a moment, trying to gauge if he believed her. Miss Natalie never lied to him—at least, he didn’t think she ever had. He trusted her, and even though the worry was still there, her words made him feel a little better.
“You think so?” he asked quietly.
“I know so,” Miss Natalie replied, her voice steady. “Your dad’s pretty amazing, right? He’s strong, and he loves you more than anything. He’d never let anything happen to himself if he could help it.”
Peter nodded slowly, relaxing a little into her lap. He still felt that worry tugging at the edges of his mind, but he trusted what Miss Natalie said. His daddy was strong. He was Iron Man, after all.