Five
Tony is fifteen and going to college. He should be excited. He’s wanted to go to college since he was in kindergarten and realized all the other kids were dumber than he was, that no one was going to understand him when he talked about circuit boards or engines except his Dad.
He should be excited. Tony wants to be excited.
Sandy is sitting on his suitcase, hands over her ears as she chants “No!” at a volume that could make a bomb sound discrete. It's not like this is the first time Sandy’s had a massive meltdown. It is the first time Tony hasn’t been able to help fix it, though. It’s not like he can just not go to fucking MIT and she covered her ears about ten minutes ago to avoid hearing any argument he had. Which, honestly? 10/10 tactic. Tony kinda wants to use it the next time Dad gets on his ass about something. Unfortunately, it’s being used against him and Tony has no fucking idea what he’s supposed to do about the wailing six year old trying to pack herself in his suitcase so he doesn’t leave her behind.
“Master Anthony?”
Tony has never been happier to see Jarvis in his entire fucking life. The man descends from the heavens like an aggressively posh angel, and Tony thinks he just might cry with relief. Dad’s useless when it comes to dealing with Hurricane Cassandra, and Mom’s not that much better, but Jarvis? The man’s a damn magician.
Already, Sandy’s lowering her hands from her ears and bringing them to wipe at her eyes as Jarvis asks, “Now what seems to be the trouble, Miss Cassandra?”
An unintelligible string of sad baby noises later has Jarvis nodding wisely and suggesting she comes with Tony to help him settle into his dorm. Sandy magnanimously accepts his terms.
(And Tony won’t admit it, but something loosens in his chest at the idea, too.)