four.
🌶️
Pepper paced in the kitchen, the sounds of Tony’s chair scraping against the tile still ringing in her ears. His bad mood had been an irritating, persistent fog hanging over their household for weeks now, and for the first time in a long time, she had no clue how to break through it. What was worse, she felt useless—helpless, even. Usually, she had a handle on his moods, could anticipate his shifts in behavior before they became a problem. But this time? This time, it felt different.
She had noticed the signs, sure. She had seen this coming, at least the version of it she had dealt with before—the dark cloud, the withdrawal, the irritability. But this time, it hit differently. Maybe it was because she cared more now, not just as his assistant but as his girlfriend. And it wasn’t just about managing Tony’s moods to make sure the company ran smoothly anymore. This was personal. It was about Peter.
Before, when Tony would spiral—whether it was a fourteen-day bender or some other reckless streak—Pepper knew how to work around it. She could pick up the slack at Stark Industries without missing a beat. But now, Tony's mood wasn’t just affecting the business; it was affecting their family. And while she understood he was under a lot of pressure, the man had been through hell over the summer, after all, it didn’t make it any easier to watch him shut himself off from them, especially from Peter.
Tony had thrown himself into his work with the kind of single-minded intensity she’d been begging him for years to muster. Ironically, it was exactly what she’d always wanted—Tony focusing on the company, taking his responsibilities seriously—but at what cost? He’d been spending all night in the lab, reappearing only for breakfast with Peter before crashing for the rest of the day, leaving her, Rhodey, Happy, and Natalie to fill the gaps. If Pepper didn’t love Tony so much, she might have found it poetic. But right now, it just hurt.
Thank God for Natalie, Rhodey, and Happy. They were doing everything they could to keep Peter distracted, to make sure he didn’t feel too neglected by his father’s frequent absence. Between outings to the park and movie nights, they managed to keep the little boy entertained, though Pepper could tell Peter was starting to feel the weight of Tony’s distance. The kid wasn’t oblivious, and that worried her. No matter how much fun they had with him, no one could replace his dad.
Natalie had been a godsend. Unflappable, calm, and almost eerily in tune with Peter’s needs, she stepped in seamlessly wherever she was needed. If Pepper weren’t so caught up in trying to make sure Peter was okay, she might have paid more attention to just how well Natalie was handling everything. It was as if she had anticipated this shift in Tony better than Pepper had. That alone should have rubbed her the wrong way, but Pepper pushed that thought to the back of her mind. She had more important things to focus on.
The final straw came at breakfast. Peter, with his wide, hopeful eyes, had asked Tony to take him to the park. A simple, innocent request, one that Tony used to jump at before his mood had darkened. But this morning, Tony barely glanced up from his phone.
"No can do, kiddo," Tony said, his voice distracted and distant. "I’ve got a lot of work to get done. Maybe Natalie or Mommy can take you."
Pepper's stomach tightened at the way Peter’s face fell, his little shoulders drooping in disappointment. She shot Tony a look, but he was too absorbed in his phone to notice. Peter tried again, whining softly, "But Daddy!"
That’s when Tony snapped. It wasn’t a full-blown outburst, but his tone was sharp enough to startle Peter. “I said no, Peter!”
Pepper’s heart clenched as she saw Peter’s eyes well up with tears, his bottom lip quivering. She was on the verge of intervening when Natalie swooped in, gently guiding Peter out of the room before things escalated further.
"That was not okay," Pepper said, her voice too calm for how furious she felt. She locked her eyes on Tony, but he still wouldn’t look at her.
Tony sighed, his hand coming up to rub his temples. “I messed up. I know that. I just... I really need to—” He stopped, looking conflicted, his face tight with frustration. “I’m going into the office for the day,” he muttered, standing abruptly and scraping his chair back before walking away.
Pepper stood there, watching his retreating back, anger and hurt swirling inside her. “Come back with an apology and a better attitude, Tony,” she shouted after him.
She slumped into one of the chairs at the table, rubbing her hands over her face. This was getting out of hand. She could deal with Tony being distant, with him throwing himself into work—it was his coping mechanism, after all. But snapping at Peter? That was a line they couldn’t afford to cross. The boy had been through enough already, and he didn’t need his father pushing him away, too.
Pepper knew that Tony wasn’t doing it intentionally. He was struggling. She saw it in the way he stared off into space sometimes, as if he were still trapped in that cave, haunted by things he couldn’t talk about. But that didn’t make it any easier to watch Peter suffer because of it. Something had to give.
Pepper sat at the table for a moment longer, her mind spinning. She could hear the faint sounds of Peter sniffling from down the hallway, a sound that tugged at her heart. Tony had no idea the damage he’d caused with a few short words, and though she knew it wasn’t his intention, she couldn’t let Peter be the collateral damage in whatever storm Tony was brewing in his mind.
She stood up, pushing the chair back quietly, and made her way to Peter’s room. The door was ajar, and through the small opening, she could see Natalie sitting beside Peter on the bed, talking to him softly.
She knocked gently before stepping into the room. Peter’s head buried in his pillow, his little body curled up tight, and Pepper’s heart ached at the sight of him so upset.
“Hey, buddy,” she said softly, walking over to the bed and sitting down beside him. Natalie glanced up, her eyes meeting Pepper’s in silent understanding.
"I’ve got this, Natalie," Pepper said gently, offering her a small smile. "Why don’t you take the day off? Go relax."
Natalie hesitated for a moment, then nodded, standing up from the bed and giving Peter’s back a comforting rub before heading toward the door. “Call if you need anything,” she said quietly before slipping out.
Pepper turned her full attention to Peter, reaching out to rub soothing circles on his back. “Hey, kiddo. I know you’re upset. I’m really sorry about what happened.”
Peter sniffled and lifted his head, his red-rimmed eyes meeting hers. “Daddy doesn’t wanna take me to the park,” he said, his voice small and filled with hurt.
Pepper’s heart twisted, and she leaned forward, brushing his hair away from his damp forehead. “Daddy’s... going through some things right now,” she explained carefully. “It doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to spend time with you. He loves you so much, Peter.”
Peter’s lip trembled again, and Pepper pulled him into a gentle hug, holding him close as he cried quietly into her shoulder. She rocked him softly, her mind racing with how to fix this, how to make him feel better. After a few moments, Peter pulled back, wiping at his face with the back of his hand.
“How about this,” Pepper began, her voice brightening. “Why don’t you and I spend the day together? Just the two of us. We’ll do something special—whatever you want. You get to decide.”
Peter’s tear-streaked face lit up a little, his brows furrowing as he considered the offer. “Like... ice cream for lunch?” he asked, his voice still thick with tears but already perking up at the idea.
Pepper smiled warmly. “Absolutely. Ice cream for lunch, and then maybe the park? We can do anything you want.”
Peter’s eyes, still puffy from crying, brightened at the mention of the park. “Really?”
“Really,” she said, giving him a playful nudge. “Today’s all about you.”
Peter wiped the last of his tears and nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Pepper’s heart swelled at the sight. She stood up, holding out her hand for him to take. “Come on, let’s go get ready. We’ve got a special day ahead of us.”
As Peter hopped off the bed, grabbing her hand with his small one, Pepper felt a sense of purpose wash over her. Tony might be dealing with his own demons right now, but she could make sure Peter didn’t feel abandoned because of it. Today, she would make Peter feel like the most important person in the world—because to her, he was.
⚙️
Tony couldn't have left his home fast enough. The sight of Peter, eyes welling up with tears—because of something he had done—made him feel like complete and utter shit. And he deserved it. Hell, he knew he did. It gnawed at him, that quiet guilt, the kind that crept in and made a home at the back of his mind, whispering incessantly. He’d screwed up, again.
The last place he wanted to be was the office. But there he was, pulling into the private employee garage, into his reserved spot, hands tightening on the wheel as the engine hummed to a stop.
It was Sunday, so Stark Industries was practically a ghost town. Sure, there were always some people working, but they were like him in this regard—obsessives who locked themselves away, oblivious to the day, the time, or the last time they’d taken a bathroom break. Which meant one thing: he wouldn’t be bothered. At least, not for a few hours.
He needed that. Needed time to clear his head, to stop replaying Peter’s teary face on an endless loop. The guilt was suffocating. Every mistake cut deeper now, because it his time was ticking.
Tony slammed the car door shut with a little too much force, the metal clang reverberating through the empty garage. His steps echoed as he made his way toward his personal lab, a private sanctuary in the Malibu complex. It was where he could pretend—just for a little while—that he had a solution. To everything. The palladium poisoning was getting worse, that much was obvious. His hands were shaky, his energy waning. But he was stubborn as hell. He would take another stab at the reactor problem, just like he had countless times before.
Hypothesize. Test. Fail. Repeat.
And when that didn’t work, well, he'd lay on the floor and stare at the ceiling like a damn idiot, wallowing in self-pity. Maybe throw something, because that was productive, right?
God, it was pathetic. He knew it, too. The weight of it pressed down on him, an invisible anchor dragging him further into the abyss of his thoughts. He had time left with Peter—weeks, maybe months—and he’d be damned if his final days with his son were spent with him acting like a complete asshole. He wasn't going to be his father. He refused to be that guy.
So he buried himself in his work, tinkering with the reactor in a futile attempt to stay alive long enough to be better. For Peter.
The hours blurred, slipping away unnoticed until the familiar voice of JARVIS cut through the fog of Tony’s thoughts.
“Boss, there are visitors in your office,” JARVIS announced.
Tony groaned from his spot on the floor, eyes still locked on the ceiling. “Tell them to go away,” he muttered, voice rough, tinged with exhaustion.
“I’m afraid they’re staying and won’t leave until you join them,” JARVIS replied, almost apologetically.
Tony sighed, dragging a hand down his face. Of course they were.
He knew who it was, could probably guess without a second thought. Pepper, maybe Rhodey—Peter. The weight of the day pressed on his chest a little harder. There was no escaping this. Not today.
With a grunt, he pushed himself up from the floor. His body protested, aching in all the usual places, a stark reminder that he wasn’t actually invincible.
"Fine," he grumbled. "Give me five minutes." Five minutes to pull himself together, slap on the mask that said ‘I'm fine’ when he was anything but. Five minutes to get back into dad mode and pretend he wasn’t falling apart.
Because Peter needed him. And Tony? Well, Tony couldn’t afford to let him down again.
Tony grumbled under his breath, wiping the motor oil from his hands onto the worn denim of his jeans. "Put it on standby and lockdown mode, J," he instructed, giving the lab one last look before heading out.
His office was eight floors up, and as the elevator carried him there, his mind buzzed with a thousand possibilities. Who the hell was up there? The idea of it being Rhodey or Happy wasn’t comforting—if anything, it made his stomach churn. They would’ve heard from Pepper by now, heard how badly he’d messed up with Peter. How he’d made his son—his son—cry. That gnawing guilt resurfaced, twisting his gut as he thought about how either of them would show up just to give him a lecture about what a shitty father he was turning out to be.
But neither Rhodey nor Happy would head straight to his office. They knew better. It wasn’t exactly his favorite place; Pepper used the space far more than he ever did. Hell, he thought as the elevator doors opened, maybe he should just make it hers.
That was the last coherent thought Tony had before pushing open the double doors and stopping dead in his tracks.
“Honeybear, I swear if that’s— huh?!”
Tony Stark was rarely lost for words, but today was apparently the day for miracles. There, sitting at hisdesk, was a man. Not just any man, but one wearing an eye patch. A fucking eye patch. Tony blinked, sure he was hallucinating. He’d been working non-stop, not sleeping, barely eating—the palladium poisoning, or maybe sheer exhaustion, was finally driving him mad. Yeah, he thought. That’s it. He was hallucinating pirates.
Tony turned around, ready to leave before this delusion could get any weirder, but the pirate spoke.
“Tony Stark,” the man’s voice was calm, even amused. “Man, have I been waiting to meet you.”
Tony froze. His eyes narrowed, and he turned back toward the desk, gaze fixed on the man. “I don’t know what kind of messed-up game my brain is playing right now, but you’re a little far from the ocean, Captain Hook.”
The pirate chuckled—a deep, knowing sound that grated on Tony’s already frayed nerves. “She was right,” the man said, almost to himself. “You’re kinda funny.”
Tony’s snark flared as a defense mechanism. “Who was right?”
The pirate didn’t answer immediately. His one visible eye shifted to something—or someone—behind Tony. He didn’t like how that felt, the way his skin prickled with a sense of danger, so he turned around just in time to hear a familiar voice.
"Me."
Tony blinked. Natalie Rushman? Only... something was off. Wasn't she a brunette this morning? His eyes darted between the pirate and a newly redheaded Natalie Rushman—or whatever the hell was going on here.
“I’m going crazy. Yep. This is it,” Tony muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair as he laughed—a sharp, almost manic sound. His eyes flicked between the two again, unable to make sense of what he was seeing. His laugh grew louder, ringing hollow in the silence of the room as he shook his head. “Hallucinating pirates and hair dye. Great. I’ve finally lost it.”
He made a move for the door, but Natalie—or whoever she was—stepped in front of him, pressing a firm hand to his chest. It was more strength than he expected.
“Sit down, Tony. Hear us out,” she said, her voice the same as it always had been, but now laced with an authority that didn’t belong.
Tony’s eyes locked on hers, and for the first time since stepping into his office, his gut told him this wasn’t some stress-induced hallucination. His brain clicked into overdrive, processing a hundred details at once. The eye-patch guy. The hair. The shift in her demeanor. His eyes darted from Natalie to the pirate—who was sitting comfortably in his chair, as though he owned the place.
“Alright, fine,” Tony said, backing up a step. His defenses were up, but his curiosity, that old, familiar itch, was starting to surface. “I’ll bite. But someone better start explaining. Fast.” His voice was sharp, cutting through the room like a knife, and the easygoing, sarcastic front he’d maintained was now cracking, giving way to the anxiety bubbling beneath the surface.
He dropped into the chair across from them, fingers tapping restlessly on the armrest. “Well go on.”
🔻
Getting the day off hadn’t been in Natasha’s plans. Not at all. But in her line of work, unexpected opportunities were rarely wasted. This one, in particular, couldn’t have played out more in her favor if she’d tried.
She’d been monitoring Tony Stark closely since she’d first arrived at the Malibu mansion nearly two weeks ago. The signs of palladium poisoning were subtle at first, easy to miss if you didn’t know what to look for. But Natasha did. She noticed it even before it had become serious. Now, though, it was impossible to ignore. The dark circles under his eyes. The tension in his shoulders. And the mood swings — those were the most telling. Tony had become irritable, more withdrawn, and far less like the man she’d initially encountered.
It reminded her of the version of Tony Stark she’d expected to find: the arrogant, playboy genius the media loved to paint him as. But seeing him fall into that persona again, after having witnessed the progress he’d made, left her disappointed. Still, she understood.
Tony wasn’t acting out of arrogance or entitlement; this was fear. A man who had everything, but knew his time might be running out. The weight of it was crushing him, and Natasha could feel the tension radiating from him, not just affecting his work but spilling into his relationship with Peter.
Peter had picked up on it, too. The seven-year-old was far too perceptive for his age, a trait Natasha admired and pitied in equal measure. He’d noticed how tired his dad was lately, how his temper flared more often. He’d seen it, and though he didn’t fully understand why, the worry in his eyes whenever Tony got snappy was unmistakable.
When Pepper offered her the day off, Natasha didn’t hesitate. She’d been planning for this moment. Tony’s poisoning was accelerating, and time was running short. This mission had taken a turn she hadn’t anticipated, and she needed to adjust.
“Hey,” she said into the secured line, dialing a familiar number as she paced her room, grabbing a small bag. “Fury?”
On the other end, Nick Fury’s voice crackled through the scrambled signal. “You better have a damn good reason for calling me this early, Romanoff.”
Natasha rolled her eyes. Typical. She didn’t bother responding to his attitude. Instead, she got straight to the point. “Did you find what you were looking for?”
A brief silence lingered over the line before Fury answered with a curt, “Yes.”
Good. This was playing out just as she had anticipated. Natasha smiled to herself as she zipped up her bag. Everything was falling into place.
“Jarvis?” she called, her voice calm, but her mind already calculating her next move. “Where’s Tony?”
“Mr. Stark is en route to the office, Miss Rushman,” the AI’s smooth voice chimed from above.
Perfect. She returned to her call with Fury, knowing the Director was likely tapping his fingers impatiently on the other end. “Meet me at Stark Industries in two hours.”
Fury grumbled something unintelligible, but eventually replied, “See you there.”
Natasha clicked off the line and slid her phone into her pocket. All that was left was to wait for Pepper and Peter to leave for the day.
With precision and ease, she reached up and tugged off the wig that had become an unwelcome part of her daily routine. Dark red waves fell loose over her shoulders, and she felt an immediate sense of relief. The transformation from Natalie Rushman back into Natasha Romanoff was jarring, but somehow comforting.
She quickly changed out of her nanny persona’s modest attire, slipping into her preferred tactical gear — black form-fitting pants, a tank top, and a sleek zip-up hoodie. These clothes felt right. They were hers. Every time she looked at herself in the mirror over the past two weeks, she’d seen Natalie Rushman staring back — a polished, put-together nanny with just enough of a tough edge to play the part. But standing in front of the mirror now, Natasha was reminded of who she really was.
An assassin. A spy. A woman with blood on her hands, far more than Peter could ever imagine. She had a ledger full of red, and no matter how hard she worked to wipe it clean, the stains never quite faded.
Her reflection stared back at her, expression unreadable. She’d handled dozens of missions, ones far more dangerous and mentally taxing than this. Yet somehow, being in this house, under these circumstances, twisted something inside her in a way she hadn’t expected.
Peter. That boy had wormed his way into her carefully guarded walls without her even noticing. He was sweet, too young to fully comprehend the danger that had once loomed over him — and still did. He deserved better than a world filled with secrets, assassins, and hidden agendas. And maybe, in a way, that was why it hurt more than she’d expected.
Natasha was good at keeping her emotions in check, but this mission was testing her. Living under Tony’s roof, seeing the man behind the mask, caring for his son… it had cracked open something she hadn’t planned for. She didn’t allow herself the luxury of caring too much. It made the job harder, clouded her judgment.
But Peter had a way of reminding her that there was still something human inside her. It wasn’t something she liked to acknowledge often, but in moments like this, it was impossible to ignore. He was a good kid, and Tony — despite everything — was trying to be a good father.
And after this afternoon, after the confrontation with Tony, everything was bound to change. Natasha had no idea what the fallout would look like. She wasn’t afraid, but she knew better than most that change was unpredictable. And when it came, it often left a path of destruction in its wake.
Glancing once more at her reflection, Natasha steeled herself. Today was just another mission, she reminded herself. Just another day in a life filled with deception and half-truths. But deep down, she knew it wasn’t that simple anymore. Not with Peter. Not with Tony.
Not with the truth about to come to light.
Ambushing Tony wasn’t going to go well, Natasha had a feeling. He had been in a foul mood from the moment he left the house that morning, the rare snap at Peter signaling just how frayed his patience was. The look on Peter’s face had been enough to make Natasha bite back her own frustration. Peter hadn’t deserved that. But Tony wasn’t thinking straight. The poisoning was taking its toll.
The fact that he’d rushed into the office, without his usual grumbling or excuses, was a red flag. Normally, Tony had to be dragged out the door, his reluctance to leave Peter almost endearing if it hadn’t been so clear that the man hated being anywhere else. Today, though, he had bolted. It told her everything she needed to know: his mood was spiraling, and fast.
Director Fury sat comfortably in Tony’s chair behind the desk, his usual authoritative presence filling the room. Natasha didn’t miss the way Tony’s jaw clenched at the sight, though he said nothing. Instead, Tony settled into one of the chairs on the other side of the desk, a silent guest in his own office. That alone was surprising. He wasn’t fighting Fury for control, wasn’t making a scene. It was a small victory, one Natasha hadn’t anticipated.
Maybe, just maybe, this would go smoother than expected.
She moved to stand beside Fury, her posture straight, unwavering. Tony’s gaze flicked to her, sharp and scrutinizing, peeling back the layers with those calculating eyes of his. Natasha knew that look well — the look of a man trying to understand how deeply he’d been betrayed. But she held her ground, her expression cool and controlled, as always.
"My name is Nick Fury," Fury started, his voice as gruff and unapologetic as ever. "And you already know Natasha... or maybe you know her as Natalie Rushman."
Tony’s eyes narrowed, his full attention shifting to her. Natasha didn’t flinch under his scrutiny, though she could feel the weight of his stare. He was processing, assessing the situation with the precision of the engineer he was. She could see the thoughts flickering behind his eyes, connecting the dots, questioning how long she had been lying to him, to Peter, to Pepper.
Did she feel bad about it? Maybe. There was a part of her, a small part, that regretted deceiving them. Especially Peter. But she was Natasha Romanoff — the Black Widow. She had a job to do, and sentimentality couldn’t cloud her judgment too much. Still, something in her softened for a fraction of a second. She offered Tony a barely-there apologetic glance. It was gone just as quickly as it came, but she hoped he saw it.
Tony was uncharacteristically quiet. Natasha could feel the tension brewing, a storm waiting to break. She nudged Fury gently, encouraging him to keep going. The silence was unnerving — Tony wasn’t a man known for holding back. If they didn’t get everything out now, they might not get another chance before he shut them down completely.
"Natasha here has been assessing you," Fury continued, his voice steady as he tossed a sleek gray folder onto the desk. "For a project."
Tony’s brow furrowed as he eyed the folder. Natasha recognized it immediately — the same one Fury had handed her over a year ago when this mission had first been conceived. Stamped across the top in bold, almost nondescript lettering were the words “Avengers Initiative.”
Tony picked up the folder, flipping it open. His eyes scanned the contents, and the room fell into an intense, almost stifling quiet. But it wasn’t the kind of tension Natasha had anticipated. It wasn’t fury or indignation that filled the air. It was curiosity, contemplation.
Fury continued, his gravelly voice the only sound in the room as Tony read. "The Avengers Initiative is a non-government-sanctioned response team. Designed to keep Earth safe from... well, from things we don’t even know about yet. A team made up of individuals with unique qualities. Qualities that go beyond what any standard military personnel could offer."
Tony thumbed through the pages, his face impassive, though Natasha could see the wheels turning in his mind. He was taking it in, processing the proposal, but there was no telling how he’d react once the reality of it hit him.
Fury pressed on. "We need people who can handle the unknown. Who can think on their feet, adapt in real-time. People who aren’t afraid to get their hands dirty, and who can see the bigger picture. You fit the bill, Stark. But we had to make sure you were up to the challenge."
Tony’s eyes flicked up from the folder, finally meeting Natasha’s. He cleared his throat, his voice low and hoarse when he finally spoke. "So, what? You’ve been... spying on me? For some top-secret superhero boy band?"
Natasha’s lips quirked slightly at the sarcasm, but it didn’t reach her eyes. "It was never about spying, Tony. It was about making sure you were ready."
"Ready for what?" Tony shot back, tossing the folder onto the desk with more force than necessary. "To save the world? So you lied to my face while pretending to be my son’s nanny?"
There it was. The anger. The hurt. It flared briefly, but Tony reined it in, his expression hardening as he leaned back in his chair.
Natasha didn’t flinch. She’d expected this. "You have every right to be angry. But this isn’t just about you, Tony. It’s about something bigger. Something we can’t afford to ignore."
For a moment, the room fell silent again, the weight of her words hanging in the air. Tony’s eyes flicked back to the folder on the desk, then to Fury, and finally to Natasha. His voice was quieter when he spoke again, almost resigned. "And what if I say no?"
Fury leaned forward, his voice steady, unyielding. "Then we keep looking. But we both know you’re not the kind of man who walks away from a fight. Especially not one like this."
Tony nodded, though the movement felt heavy, like he was still processing. His eyes flicked up to meet Natasha’s, guarded and calculating. “And what did you come up with in your assessment, huh?”
Natasha, unfazed by the tension radiating from him, calmly flipped to one of the last pages of the file in front of him. She knew he could read the words himself, but there was no harm in telling him directly. “I recommended you for the program. Recommended Iron Man as well.” She glanced between Tony and Fury, both of their gazes now locked on her. “But there are caveats.”
Tony’s brow arched. “Caveats? You don’t think I’m good enough for the program?”
Natasha exhaled, rolling her eyes at the typical Stark response. “I know you can read, Stark. Look at the first two lines on that page,” she said, her tone flat. “I did recommend you. Both you and Iron Man. The caveat isn’t about your capabilities.”
Tony’s raised brows silently prompted her to continue, but his impatience was palpable. He wasn’t going to let this go until she got to the point.
“The caveat I’m talking about,” she continued, her tone measured, “is your son.”
Tony’s face darkened, and he leaned forward slightly, his posture defensive. “What about Peter?” His voice was sharp, protective.
Natasha raised her hands slightly, a placating gesture. “Relax. The caveat is that I’m worried about him, Tony. I know about the palladium poisoning.”
Tony’s eyes widened, caught off guard. She could tell he was about to protest, but she pressed on before he had the chance. “We have something that can help, temporarily at least. But between the poisoning, being CEO of Stark Industries, being Iron Man, and raising Peter…” She shook her head. “You don’t have enough time. Something has to give. And I’m not going to let you sacrifice your son.”
Tony’s reaction was immediate, his voice rising in a mixture of anger and disbelief. “You think I’d sacrifice my son? After everything I’ve been through with him? After everything I went through to keep him by my side?”
His words hit like a punch, but Natasha remained steady, her expression unchanged. She had expected this — the explosion of emotions, the defensiveness. She knew Tony Stark well enough to understand that he needed to yell before he could listen.
“No one’s suggesting you’d give up your son, Stark,” Fury interjected, his voice low but firm. “We’re saying this is a big deal. The Avengers Initiative isn’t just a title — it’s a commitment. We’re willing to have you on as an advisor, on a reserve basis.”
Tony crossed his arms, his expression indignant, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips. “So what I’m hearing is you want me on the B-team?”
Both Natasha and Fury rolled their eyes in unison. Fury leaned forward, the usual edge of sarcasm in his tone. “Yeah, sure, if that’s what you want to call it.”
Tony opened his mouth to argue, but then stopped. Natasha could see the gears turning in his head. He wasn’t someone who took being sidelined lightly, but there was a glimmer of something else in his eyes — contemplation, calculation.
“What if I… gave up something else?” he asked, his tone quieter, more thoughtful.
Natasha raised a brow, surprised. The only logical thing for him to give up was his role as CEO, but could Tony really walk away from Stark Industries? Before she could voice her thoughts, Fury spoke up.
“Well, then we could revisit things,” Fury said, watching Tony closely.
Tony nodded absently, rubbing at his arc reactor — a nervous habit Natasha had noticed him developing over the past few weeks. “Well, if I don’t die before then, consider me in. Because in a few weeks’ time, I won’t be CEO of my own company anyway.”
Natasha blinked, taken aback. Who was he planning to hand his empire over to? Pepper? She was about to ask, but Fury beat her to it.
“That reminds me,” Fury said, reaching down and pulling out a metal box from beneath the desk. Inside were several vials filled with a strange green liquid. He lifted one of the vials, holding it up for Tony to see. “Give me your arm.”
Tony recoiled slightly, puffing out his chest in a defensive stance. “Absolutely not. I’m not letting you stab me with some mystery concoction. I don’t even know what that is.”
Natasha stepped in quickly, her voice calm but firm. “It’s a temporary treatment. Not a cure, but it’ll relieve the symptoms for a while.”
Tony eyed the vial skeptically, but after a long pause, he extended his arm, albeit reluctantly. Fury administered the injection without hesitation, and Tony winced, but almost immediately, Natasha could see the relief wash over him. His muscles relaxed, and a low sigh escaped his lips.
“Well,” Tony said, rubbing at his arm, “this definitely helps. But I’m still on borrowed time here. I don’t know how long I’ve got left to be your ‘little advisor.’”
Fury nodded, his expression unreadable as he leaned over and grabbed another box, this one cardboard with a lid. He slapped it onto the desk, the gesture heavy with significance. “Look, Stark. I don’t know how much this will help, but it’s from your dad. He said one day, a box like this would be important. Maybe it’ll help you figure something out.”
Tony’s eyes widened slightly, his hand hovering over the box but not yet touching it. Fury stood up, leaving Tony’s chair as easily as he’d claimed it earlier. “Looking forward to working with you, Stark.” And with that, the agent was gone.
Natasha glanced at the box, then at Tony. “Looks like you’ve got some work to do,” she said, her tone soft but firm. “We did our part. Now it’s time for you to do yours. You have a little boy at home who needs you to figure this out.”
Tony didn’t respond immediately, his focus still on the box in front of him. Natasha waited for a beat, but when it was clear he was lost in thought, she turned and followed Fury out the door, leaving Tony alone with the weight of what came next.