Chapter Text
January 2001
Happy was very unhappy with him (and Tony'd be remiss if he didn't admit to laughing at the irony of that statement). This was a fact he'd be able to uncover using his intellectual prowess... and also because he could practically feel the driver's disdain from where he was reclined in the backseat.
Happy wasn’t the only one who was grumpy with him. Pepper was mad, Rhodey was mad, hell, even Obie was mad.
According to them, he was “drinking his life away” and a “borderline alcoholic”. Personally, he preferred the term “alcohol aficionado”, but Pepper, Rhodey, and Obie hadn’t been impressed when he told them that.
And yes, maybe if the four people in his life that he actually cared about were all telling him the same thing, there was a chance there could be a small problem. But the fact of the matter was that Tony just didn’t want to deal with it.
He was happy with his life. With his comfortable cycle of drink, no sleep, lab, repeat. It probably wasn’t healthy, and in the one session that he’d been able to tolerate with the therapist that Rhodey had forced upon him, she suggested that they were coping mechanisms, but Tony had brushed that idea off just as quickly as the woman had suggested it.
He didn’t have anything to cope with. Sure, his dad had hated the very air he breathed, and yeah, both of his parents were dead and he’d probably spend the rest of his days withering away in a mansion, but that was nothing. He was super duper, one hundred percent fine.
But still, there was the persisting feeling that something wasn’t quite right with the way he lived. Something was missing, but he didn’t know what, and it bugged him to no end.
Ugh, this was why he’d asked Happy to bring him to his favourite skeevy bar. He was desperate for a drink.
“I’m going to park 'round back, okay? Don’t trash the place until I get back,” Happy said, only half joking. Tony rolled his eyes as he got out of the car. One time. He’d only trashed a bar one time. Plus those other three times. And then there had been those other two. Okay, so six times in total, but still. He was living life in the fast lane and all that jazz.
Tony shook his head, focusing instead on his desperate need to get blackout drunk. The bartender. Yes the bartender could help with that.
And help they did, because soon Tony was perched on a stool, sucking down a glass of the finest whisky this place had to offer (not very fine at all), and surveying the bar. The amber liquid burned the back of his throat, but it comforted him too. This was a familiar routine, after all.
There were a few creepy men hunched in the back of the venue, eyeing a group of young women who looked like they were having the time of their lives. Tony made sure to give the freaky men a satisfactory glare before shifting his gaze to a group of rowdy teens. He chuckled to himself. No way those kids were over twenty-one. Who was he to judge though? Lord knows what he had been up to at their age.
And as his eyes travelled around the dimly lit bar, he saw her, the main contributor (apart from himself. He’d say he helped a fair bit) to The Night That Changed Everything. She was perched on a stool in the corner of the room, her curly hair brushing her shoulders as she leaned down to take a sip of what looked like a gin and tonic. Her make up was smudged and her glittery dress was rumpled, shedding sparkly flakes every time she shifted in her seat. But she was gorgeous, so Tony swaggered towards her, and that was the beginning of The Night That Changed Everything.
Her name was Mary Parker. She was a biologist-he’d actually read one of her papers once, and had been intrigued by the science behind it. Intrigued enough to dig a little deeper, though he’d lost interest eventually. Machines were more his speed, and living things tended to squelch more than he appreciated.
She lived in Queens, New York, but was in Malibu for a work conference. She told him about how she'd just gotten off the phone with her husband–Rob or Ryan or Richard or something–and how it had been a less than pleasant call. Something about RobRyanRichard's desire to start a family conflicting with Mary's desire to put her career first. Typical couple stuff that Tony had long ago added to his mental list of Reasons to Stay SINGLE. Anyway, they were on a 'break', which was a stroke of luck if he had ever had one, because Mary was smart, drop-dead gorgeous, and practically single. Exactly his type.
Before he knew it, they were both drunk out of their minds and on their way back to his mansion, tangled up on the plush leather of the backseat in Tony’s car, the divider having been firmly (and pointedly) shut by Happy.
They wasted no time once they crossed the threshold of the mansion, giggling and stumbling their way down the hall towards his bedroom, shedding items of clothing like loose skin as they went.
She’d pushed him down onto his king-sized bed, and that had been that.
When he’d woken up the next morning, butt-naked and wrapped in his silk sheets, the bed was cold and Mary Parker was gone. Tony had searched the house, still half-asleep, in his boxers, encountering a disgruntled Happy and a very flustered Pepper, but no Mary Parker.
When he’d finally woken up enough to use his big genius brain, and asked JARVIS what'd happened to her, the AI had informed him that she’d left thirty-seven minutes after Tony had fallen asleep early that morning. JARVIS had wished her a pleasant day and given her Tony's personal number, which Tony was not appreciative of. His AI had taken to handing over his highly-coveted number to any and all of the women he brought home, which had caused more than a few problems. As far as Tony could tell, the machine did it out of spite.
He passed it off as a one-night stand, which was fine. He’d bailed on a fair few of those himself, and he tried his hardest to push Mary out of his mind. It even worked, for a while.
Time marched on.
Tony designed and manufactured more and more weapons.
And time marched on.
He attended those dumb board meetings with stuffy old men and uncomfortable chairs.
And time marched on.
He forgot about Mary, and that entire night. Most of it was a blur anyway.
And time marched on.
~~~
August 10th 2001
Eight months later, and his brain was almost Mary-free. Her face only sprung into his mind when his gaze found a shade of green that matched her eyes exactly, or he came across a particularly clever paper about the intricacies of biology. Eight months later, and he could barely remember the woman from The Night That Changed Everything.
But soon enough, The Day That Changed Everything rolled around, and he just so happened to be sitting in yet another board meeting, Obie on his right, Pepper on his left, like two guards keeping an eye on a prisoner in case he tried to flee.
Tony sure felt like a prisoner as he listened to the old men drone on and on and on about how the stocks of the company had risen by a couple of points last night, and the different marketing techniques that they could use to make them go even higher.
He wondered if he had done something truly terrible in a past life. He must have, to be forced to endure even a second more of Mr I-Only-Speak-In-Monotone and his merry band of morons. Pepper dug her pointy elbow into his ribs, and Tony jerked out of his trance, realising all too late that he hadn’t been listening to the past twenty minutes of Mr Monotone's pitch. He panicked for a moment, wondering if that was the reason she had decided to poke him with her bony extremity, but then he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket and noticed that it was also vibrating the seat. Very loudly.
Mr Monotone was looking pointedly at him, and Tony struggled not to roll his eyes at the man while he declined the call, barely glancing at the number. Mr Monotone looked sufficiently satiated, and continued talking for another minute before Tony’s phone went off again. He took the time to look at the screen properly, and saw that it was the same number as before, calling him for a second time. There weren't very many people who had his personal number, though the number had increased since JARVIS' spiteful behaviour began. Was something going on?
Well, now was as good a time as any to find out, so he stood up, clocking a raised eyebrow from Pepper and an irritated look from Obie, before walking out of the conference room. “I’ll be back soon… probably.”
Tony hadn’t seen the number before, so he assumed it was just a misdial, but… how often did the same misdial-er call twice in a row? He answered the call gruffly. “Stark speaking.”
“Um, so sorry to bother you, Mr Stark, sir, but this is New-York Presbyterian calling,” a timid, female voice said on the other end. Tony’s eyebrows furrowed. Why was a hospital in New York calling him? The city was literally on the other side of the country.
“What do you want?” he snapped, the rudeness unnecessary, but he was shaken. Hospitals weren’t his thing - they hadn’t been since he’d entered one on a cold December night to identify the bodies of his mother and father.
“Mr Stark, you have-uh, there’s a… I’ll let Doctor Estrada explain everything, shall I?” there was a lot of shuffling and some quiet conversation which Tony couldn’t quite make out, before another woman’s voice filtered through the speakers, more matter-of-fact than the last.
“Tony Stark?”
“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”
“This is a very sensitive situation, sir. I ask that you treat it as such.” God, her chastising tone reminded him so much of Pepper.
“Will you quit the stalling? What situation are you talking about? What’s going on?”
“Do you know someone by the name of Mary Parker?” the doctor sighed, sounding tired and drawn. Well, that name was like a slap to the face, and Tony sucked in a sharp breath. His lungs were struggling to function. Was it the shock? Could shock do that to someone?
He finally managed to force a normal breath, but his words were strangled nonetheless. “Ah, yes. Yes I do. Is she… there? Is she hurt?”
“Mr Stark… Ms Parker arrived here in a taxi early this morning. She was in labour, but there were several complications during the delivery process. Ms Parker died shortly after the child was born,” Doctor Estrada said, delivering the news professionally, with just the right amount of sympathy in her tone to grate at Tony's nerves. He had the feeling she’d performed this script before, to many other people, and it just made his lungs contract further.
“W-why are you telling me this?” he stammered, though the answer was drumming itself into his chest with each beat of his pounding heart. Yours. Yours. Yours.
And then Doctor Estrada delivered the final blow. “According to Ms Parker, the child is yours, Mr Stark. She was in a lot of pain, but she seemed to be certain of that, at least. The fact that she was able to provide your personal phone number lends some legitimacy to her claim. Enough for me to be making this call, at least.”
Tony couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe. A kid? He had a kid? His own flesh and blood was floating around somewhere in New York.
Oh God.
“Mr Stark? Mr Stark, I’m going to have to ask that you calm down, sir. Breathing is rather important for one’s survival,” Doctor Estrada said. Tony snorted a wheezing breath at her dry humour.
“Is there… does the kid have anyone else?”
“No, we don’t think so. Ms Parker’s husband died in a plane crash three months ago. Mr Parker has a brother and a sister-in-law, but as Mr Parker is not the child’s father, they aren’t his blood relatives and are not the preferred guardians in this case.”
“So... so what will happen?” Tony asked, voice trembling slightly. He felt like someone had just taken a baseball bat to his gut, knocking the wind out of him. This kid had so much bad luck it wasn’t funny, and that was probably proof enough that the kid was his.
“There are a few options in this situation. The child could go into the system, in which case you could choose whether or not you want to remain anonymous. The brother and sister-in-law of Mr Parker are also an option. Alternatively, the child has a father who is alive and well,” Doctor Estrada said, the hint in her tone not at all subtle.
Tony’s breath hitched, and there was a strange burning in his eyes. This lady-this crazy woman-was suggesting that he, Tony Stark, a world-renowned playboy and party animal, take custody of an infant child. Was she insane? He couldn’t look after a baby! Those things were like glass, so breakable, and he could barely remember to feed himself let alone a whole other human.
And yet.
And yet, and yet, and yet.
He couldn’t help the lurch of protectiveness in his chest when Doctor Estrada talked about putting his kid into the system, or with the brother and sister-in-law.
“What? Me?” he asked, the question getting half-stuck in his throat on the way out.
“You’ll be surprised how fatherhood can change a man, Mr Stark.” When Tony remained silent, she continued. “Of course, before anything is made official, we’ll have to perform a paternity test, just to ascertain whether Ms Parker was telling the truth. I’m sure you understand.”
And Tony hadn’t even considered that. Of course, this whole thing could be fake. He’d certainly encountered a fair few desperate women who’d tried to claim that the child in their womb was a product of a steamy night that they’d once shared.
But something was different this time, Tony knew. He could feel it somewhere deep in his gut. He’d never been called by a doctor about this kind of thing. It was always a lawyer, or the woman herself, because hospitals were ridiculously thorough and could smell a pregnancy scam from miles away. And no one had ever offered a paternity test before, he’d always had to request that one be performed. And of course, there was the big kicker: Mary Parker was dead, so she didn’t have a reason for falsely claiming to be the mother of Tony Stark’s child. There would be no big payoff, and even if there was, she’d have no way to collect it.
Either the woman on the phone with him was an incredibly good actress, or he really did have a child.
It was in that moment that Tony made The Snap Decision That Changed Everything. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Have a paternity test ready.”
Tony could hear the smile in Doctor Estrada’s voice. “That’s fantastic, Mr Stark. I must warn you though, your son was born a month prematurely, and is currently being kept in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit– the NICU for short. He seems to be healthy enough, but it is protocol to monitor all premature babies until we are certain that their lungs can function well enough to support their bodies. Try not to worry though, he’s strong. I'll be seeing you soon.”
And then the woman had the audacity to hang up on him. After reducing his life to nothing more than singed pieces of things that he once knew.
But then the reality of her words hit him, two things drilling themselves into his brain, one after the other.
The first was that Doctor Estrada had said “your son”. He had a son . A mini-him, existing and very real. God, was the world even ready for a second Tony Stark? He really hoped the kid had been blessed with his good looks and absolutely none of his personality.
And the second thing was that his son, the mini-him, was in the NICU, born an entire month premature, and struggling to breathe.
At the moment, Tony could relate. He slid down the wall, hands in his hair, until he was crouched on the floor with his knees folded in towards his chest. He had a son.
He took a few deep breaths. He had a son, and that son needed him. After taking a few more deep breaths to collect himself, Tony burst back into the conference room where Pepper and Obadiah were trying to flatter Mr Monotone into not being mad that Tony had completely ditched them.
He winced, he’d be getting a stern talking-to later for that from either Pepper or Obie, maybe both.
“Tony! What do you think you’re doing-” Obie began heatedly, but Tony cut him off with a half-hearted wave in his direction. His mind was slipping into business-mode, and he was already running through everything he needed to do in order to see his son as fast as humanly possible.
“Ms Potts, you’re with me. Get my jet ready and tell the pilot to set the course for New York,” Tony ordered, already turning around to walk back out the door as Pepper gathered her things, confusion lending her usually smooth movements a jerky, hesitant quality. “Ya know what? Call Rhodey too, he’ll want to be here for this. Have him meet me at whichever airport is closest to his current location. Malibu or New York, I don’t care.” Pepper nodded, already pulling out her phone, and in that moment, Tony had never been more thankful for her. The way she could sense the urgency in his tone and did as he asked without once questioning why, despite the fact that his requests were often beyond bizarre. Like now.
He paused in the doorway of the conference room. “So sorry about this whole thing gentlemen, but I’m having a personal emergency. Maybe we can reschedule?” Tony called, knowing full well that these guys would probably never want to see him again. He wasn’t really complaining though. The thought of seeing Mr Monotone again made him want to bang his head against a wall. “Obie, I’ll call you later,” he said, smiling arrogantly at the fuming older man, before sweeping out of the room with Pepper right behind him, her heels clicking loudly against the polished floor.
Happy met them out the front of the large skyscraper that had been Tony’s prison for the last two hours, and he silently thanked Pepper for thinking about how they’d actually get to the airport, and calling Happy. It had completely slipped his still-addled mind, and he added it to the list of reasons he should not be a father. It was a long one, and growing steadily longer by the minute, but he still climbed into the car.
Tony wondered if it was selfish, his desperate need to save baby Stark from the foster care system. Who was he to have some kind of saviour complex? The kid would probably be better off without him as a father. Tony Stark was wild, known for partying and drinking and irresponsible decisions. No matter how much he wanted to deny it, he just wasn’t father material.
But there was a flutter in his heart at the thought of a little boy, his companion in the large, lonely mansion on top of the hill.
Maybe it was selfish, to want this child as much as he did, but Tony Stark was a selfish man through and through.
A few minutes of tense silence passed as Pepper furiously tapped out message after message on her phone. Then, she flipped it shut with a snap, took a deep breath, and turned towards him. “Would you mind telling me what the hell is going on, Tony?”
“Do you remember Mary Parker?”
“What?” Pepper asked, her eyebrows drawing together in confusion as she struggled to put a face to the name.
“Mary Parker.”
“Was she one of your… nighttime companions?” Pepper asked, looking a little bit disgusted. She never had approved of his gallivanting, as she put it.
“Yes, she was. I just got a call from New-York Presbyterian saying that she recently gave birth to my son.”
“What, another pregnancy scare?” Pepper sighed, rubbing her temples. “No offence, Tony, but these aren’t exactly a rarity with you. They’re always fake.”
“No, no it’s different this time. The whole thing is different,” Tony insisted, shaking his head, as if to dispel all of the doubt that Pepper was casting on the little image he had in his mind, of himself, looking happier than he ever had before, cradling a tiny bundle in his arms.
“How do you know that, Tony? She’s probably just trying to get herself a nice, tidy sum.”
“No, she isn’t. It’s different, I swear.”
“Oh yeah? This has happened before-”
“It’s different because she’s dead,” Tony snarled, perhaps a little too harshly, given Pepper was making some solid points.
Pepper’s eyes widened in surprise, and she sucked in a small, shaky breath. “Oh.” She sat there for a few minutes, fidgeting minutely, which was strange. Pepper wasn’t a fidgeter, that was Tony’s job. Pepper was cool-headed, no matter what the situation was. She glanced up at him. “So… what are you going to do?”
Tony just looked at her, and her eyebrows drew together. The woman had been working for him for years, and could read every expression on his face easily by now.
“No, Tony, are you seriously thinking about raising a child? You don’t even know how to look after yourself, let alone a baby that’s completely dependent on you!”
“Believe me, Pepper, I am well aware of that, but… I can’t just let him go into the system either. I don’t want his only adult role models to be losers who’re only in the child-rearing business for the pay check!”
“Him,” Pepper said softly, a small smile on her face. “You have a son?”
Tony deflated a little. “Yeah, yeah I do.”
“And you're sure he’s yours?”
“Almost one-hundred percent. They’re going to be giving me a paternity test when I get there, just to be certain.”
“Oh, Mr Stark, you’re really doing this,” Pepper said, and he could practically see her questioning his sanity.
But see, he knew he was crazy. He knew that the decision he was making right now was not one that any sane person in his situation would ever consider, and even now, he was second-guessing himself with each minute that passed.
Could he look after an actual child - a living, breathing human being that required constant attention and had very specific needs? Was he capable of being a father when his own one had failed him in so many ways?
Well, hopefully.
What he did know for sure was that he wanted this child, his son, more than anything, so he barely hesitated before locking his jaw and nodding resolutely at Pepper. She must have seen the determination, the absolute devotion, in his eyes, because she seemed to relent.
“Tony Stark’s going to be a dad,” she whispered, causing them both to smile like loons.
~~~
They arrived at the airport, greeting a confused and slightly pissed off Rhodey, before boarding the plane and taking off within the span of ten minutes. Oh how Tony loved having his own private jet - public airlines were a nightmare he never wanted to experience.
After seating himself in a comfy chair and ordering a cheeseburger from the singular flight attendant, he brought the Colonel up to speed on the situation, and just why he’d been dragged out of a semi-important meeting with a few low-level Air Force operatives.
By the end of the explanation, Rhodey’s expression had changed several times, ranging from fed-up with Tony and all of his shit (“you knocked someone up? Tony!”), to surprised, and then finally coming to a stop on happiness.
“I’m gonna be an uncle,” Rhodey said, and Tony took it as the sign of support that it was.
“Probably,” the billionaire added, still painfully aware of the small possibility that this whole thing might be an elaborately constructed sham. Or that his son might die before Tony could ever meet him. Tony and Pepper had done way too much research on premature babies during the drive, and had effectively terrified themselves out of their minds. “Uncle Platypus, it has a nice ring to it.”
He barely managed to dodge the pillow aimed directly at his face.
The entire flight took five hours, and Tony, exhausted from the day’s shocking revelations (and the forty-eight hour period he had gone without sleep beforehand), fell asleep about two hours in.
Just a little while before he conked out completely, he heard low murmuring and he, being the nosy person he was, tuned in to the conversation.
“I’m still struggling to process it. Tony Stark has a kid, and he’s not recoiling at the idea,” Rhodey said. “I’ve known that man for sixteen years, and he’s always insisted that children were over exuberant balls of snot and terrible drawing skills.”
“I think he’s… excited about it. I could see it in his eyes. But it’s the most adorable thing, and maybe this will finally teach him some of that much-needed responsibility that Mr Stane is always going on about,” Pepper said, and Tony had to repress a shudder at the barely-held-back “awww” in her tone. He was not cute!
“I’m the weirdest mix of excited and terrified and right now. I’m gonna be an uncle, but dear God. Can you imagine a mini Tony Stark running around? There’s no way he’ll get his mother’s temperament - Tony’s genes are way too stubborn to let Ms Parker’s do anything,” Rhodey chuckled, and Tony couldn’t help but agree with him. A mini-him would be… an experience, to say the least.
Before he could hear anymore of their whispered conversation, Tony gave in to the lull of sleep.
~~~
They touched down in New York and Tony was up and running off the plane before Rhodey and Pepper could blink. He hailed a cab and plonked himself down in the backseat, waiting impatiently for the other two to catch up. As soon as they were comfortably situated Tony was tersely ordering the driver to go, oblivious to both Pepper and Rhodey as they apologised profusely to the driver for his undoubtedly rude tone. He was too busy bouncing in his seat like a restless toddler to be polite . He had a son to meet.
The traffic was terrible, but that was to be expected. Why did his kid have to be born in the city renowned for its congestion on the roads? It would almost be faster to get out and run to the hospital.
Tony’s leg jiggled nervously for half the ride, before Pepper placed a calming hand on his knee. The jiggling slowed, but the movement itself did not stop. Instead, it progressed to his hands, where he tapped out a jerky rhythm onto his forearm for the rest of the drive.
Tony couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this strongly about anything. There were so many emotions swirling around his brain; happiness, excitement, disbelief, self-doubt. He usually just numbed it all with a drink or two (or five), but he needed to stay sober right now. In fact, he’d probably have to stay sober for at least the next eighteen years, and eat at regular intervals, and sleep at normal times.
Jesus Christ, he didn’t even know if the kid was his yet and he was already committing to changing his entire lifestyle for the little guy. If the kid was his though, well, he could imagine that there’d be nothing he wouldn’t be willing to change for him.
After a long, long car ride, the driver pulled up in front of the hospital, and Tony didn’t hesitate to jump out, stopping only to shove a few hundred dollar bills into the man’s face and ignore his spluttered “thank you,” before he was off again, striding towards the doors as Pepper and Rhodey trailed behind him.
Once he was inside, a part of Tony’s mind screamed at him to sprint through the hospital and not stop until he found his son, and the other part was telling him to run right out of the doors he’d just come through and never return.
He pushed both of those thoughts away, concentrating on behaving like a proper human and finding the doctor that had contacted him. He was Tony Stark , and he was in public. The media could be anywhere, which meant he had to act like there wasn’t any intense emotional turmoil going on inside of him. It was fine. Everything was fine.
Tony wasted no time in hurrying towards reception, ignoring the other people in the waiting room, who were staring at him with open mouths and wide eyes. This was already a PR disaster and a half-Obie would be so mad-but for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to focus on that right now.
The young woman manning the desk glanced up at him, blue eyes widening as she did a double take, and then a triple take, finally realising that yes, it really was Tony Stark standing in front of her. He really should have remembered to bring a pair of sunglasses.
Almost as soon as the thought ran through his mind, Pepper materialised at his elbow, handing him a pair of blue-tinted aviators. He took them wordlessly, flashing her a grateful smile, before slipping them on his face and returning his gaze to the receptionist.
The badge pinned to her black blouse informed him that her name was Charlotte. Tony put on his press smile (polite but keeping a tight lock on his true emotions and intentions) and leaned nonchalantly on the bench.
“Hey, Charlotte, is it?” he asked, pausing and waiting for her hesitant nod. “Yeah, I’m here to see Doctor Estrada, and I'm on a bit of a tight schedule, but you can make it happen quick smart for me, can’t you?”
The girl nodded again before picking up the clunky phone on her desk, dialling a number and shooting a few words down the line that Tony couldn’t be bothered to listen to, before putting the pitiful excuse for a device down and looking back up at him.
“Doctor Estrada will be down soon. You’re welcome to take a seat over there while you wait,” she said pleasantly, gesturing towards a row of seats along one wall. Tony gave her a quick nod of thanks before wandering over to chairs. They were covered in an awful, teal-coloured plastic that looked like the kind of thing that would suction-cup itself to his thighs if it were just a few degrees warmer.
He was too nervous to sit down anyway, and resorted to pacing up and down fretfully while Rhodey and Pepper watched from their uncomfortable seats, not even trying to stop him. They knew that fidgeting was one of the few healthy ways he had to deal with stress, and he was really stressed. God, he hated hospitals.
Minutes passed, or they could have been hours, Tony had no concept of time anymore, and eventually, the matter-of-fact voice that had ripped his life to shreds over the phone was back, except this time she was right behind him.
“Mr Stark?”
He jerked around to find a no-nonsense woman staring back at him, her dark eyes the picture of concerned professionalism. Tony started towards her, his steps uncoordinated and stiff, not even paying attention to whether Rhodey and Pepper were following.
Doctor Estrada shook his hand, her firm grip grounding enough to tether Tony’s mind to his body for a little longer. She turned to introduce herself to his companions, and then led them through a few bland corridors, decorated only with hotel-style art hung every few meters on the seemingly endless stretch of wall. Tony’s eyes were fixed on her hair, which was pulled into a neat, low ponytail. A few of the black strands were sticking out at odd angles, and they contrasted starkly against her white coat.
Eventually, the group reached an unremarkable door. Judging by the plaque on it that read ‘Dr. Emilia Estrada’, Tony gathered that it was her office, and his guess was proved to be correct when she pushed the door open.
Pepper and Rhodey took the chairs next to Doctor Estrada’s desk, and Tony, being the child he was, swung himself up onto the examination bed, grinning at the loud noise that the crinkly paper made when he settled his weight on it.
There was a heavy silence for a moment, punctuated by the occasional sounds of Tony shifting on the bed, before Doctor Estrada cleared her throat awkwardly.
“Right, well, I suppose I'll cut right to the chase. I need a swab from the inside of your cheek for the paternity test, and we’ll be able to get the results back to you within a few hours given your son’s status as a… priority patient .” Tony had never been more grateful for his fame and reputation. “Now, the question is-”
Doctor Estrada was cut off by the loud ringing emanating from the old phone on her desk, and Tony suddenly felt bad for breaking up the board meeting with his own ringtone. He felt like he was about to rip his own hair out at the interruption, and he imagined Mr Monotone had felt similarly crazed.
“Excuse me, I need to take this,” The woman said, putting the phone to her ear. “Hello? Charlotte, I’m in the middle of an appointment. This better be important.” There were a few seconds of silence, in which Doctor Estrada’s face changed from slightly irked to downright murderous scarily fast. “They’ve done what ? Hang on, stay calm, I’ll be right there,” she slammed the phone down and turned to the trio. “Colonel Rhodes, do you mind if I borrow your expertise for one minute? Mr Stark, it’s probably best for you to stay here with Ms Potts,” the doctor ordered, and Tony was left marvelling at her ability to take control of whatever situation was unfolding as she walked swiftly out of the room, Rhodey trailing cluelessly behind her.
They returned about fifteen minutes later, looking harried and shutting the door quickly behind them. An anxious and frustrated Tony was bouncing infuriatingly on the bed, sending annoyed glares at Pepper every few seconds, who was pointedly ignoring him. They'd had more than a few fights in the past fifteen minutes, all of which consisted of Tony trying to leave the room to hunt down his son while Pepper steadfastly refused to let that happen.
As soon as the other two were settled, Tony was firing off questions. “What’s the problem? What’s going on? Is it the kid?” he asked frantically.
“No, no, your son is fine, Mr Stark. It was the paparazzi. Apparently someone in the waiting room called in an anonymous tip that you were here, and so they had all crammed themselves into the room when we showed up, but we managed to get them outside,” Doctor Estrada said, rushing to assure him of his son’s well-being, though the news she brought wasn’t exactly great. He’d probably be trapped in this hospital forever now. "The morons," Doctor Estrada continued, her tone exasperated, "no respect at all. Do they not understand this is a hospital?"
“You might not be able to leave for a while though, Tones, especially if you’re planning on walking out of here with a baby,” Rhodey interrupted, putting voice to Tony’s worries. “There must be a hundred different news stations camped out there.”
“Yes, but we’re working on getting them removed from the premises, which should give you a little room to breathe. If that doesn’t pan out, there’s a back exit that they don’t know about as of yet," Doctor Estrada said. Tony just nodded, still trying to calm his racing heart. His son was okay, everything was fine.
“That’s one good receptionist you’ve got there. She was fending off those vultures left and right, and not once did she crack. It was pretty impressive, the media are very good at getting what they want from people,” Rhodey said, his tone impressed.
“Charlotte? Oh yes, she’s very good at keeping a cool head in high-pressure situations. She would make such a good surgeon, but we lost her to law school,” Doctor Estrada sighed morosely. “Anyway, you don’t have to worry about leaving for a while yet. Your baby will need to stay in the NICU for at least a week so that we can monitor him and ensure there aren’t any complications we haven’t picked up on yet. Most parents in this situation don’t want to leave their child, so there’s a fully functioning bathroom and kitchen off to the side, as well as pull-out beds.”
Tony nodded, and realised with a jolt that he’d never even asked if his son had a name. A fantastic start to fatherhood, Tony, stellar effort, really, he thought to himself.
“What’s he called?” he blurted out suddenly.
“I beg your pardon?” Doctor Estrada asked, raising a slim eyebrow.
“My son, what’s his name?”
“Oh, Ms Parker didn’t choose a name before she passed away, so it’s up to you, Mr Stark.”
And shit, it really was up to him. Everything from this point onwards was up to him.
He had to care for a baby, raise him to be a good man, look after him when he was sick, comfort him when he fell over and grazed his knees, applaud his mediocre drawings... unless his kid turned out to be artistically inclined.
Oh God, his child could be artistically inclined. How was he supposed to support a kid whose passion was art when Tony himself could barely draw a stick figure without stuffing it up? There was a reason he’d expanded JARVIS’ abilities to create blueprints for him.
What if his son loved sports? Tony was not an athletic man - all of his muscle came from the heavy lifting he did in the lab. Oh no, he’d have to teach his child how to catch! How does catching work again? He’d forgotten how to catch!
The sheer unknown of just who his child would grow up to be scared him beyond belief, but no matter what his son ended up enjoying, Tony would be able to adjust. Winging it was his specialty, and he was a genius for a reason. It couldn’t be that hard to teach himself how to paint, right?
He was terrified, but his father had once told him that fear was a necessary component of perfection. If that was true, Tony would be the best damn father in history.
After getting his cheek swabbed, he was not allowed to see his baby. No, he had to wait for the results, both because the hospital legally would not allow him to skip this dumb process, and because Pepper and Rhodey didn’t want him getting attached to a baby that may not actually belong to him. Bold of them to assume he wasn’t already attached.
He didn’t know what he’d do if those results came back negative. The little images he’d conjured in his mind of nurseries and father-son activities, of a child all to himself, would be washed down the drain, and he’d be left with nothing, which wasn’t new.
He had realised, sometime during all this, that before-before meeting Mary Parker, before the call, before the baby-he had really, truly had nothing. He lived alone in a big mansion on a hill, haunted by phantoms of his parents and the occasional one-night stand to try and fill the silence that had been left behind when they died. Yes, Pepper was there during the day, and sometimes Rhodey and Obie and Happy, but they all went home to their own places at night. It was just him and his ghosts in his huge house on the hill, but maybe his son would be able to change that... if the kid really was his son.
Tony shook his head, ridding himself of the swirling whirlpool that was his mind. He needed to distract himself, he needed…
He needed to choose a name. That seemed like a sufficient distraction, and so he opened up his phone, and typed out a list. It was ordered, with pros and cons for each name. The whole process was kind of cathartic, the organisation helping to soothe his wild thoughts.
Soon enough, he’d narrowed the list down to the top three, but there was an equal number of pros and cons for each one, so he turned to Pepper and Rhodey, AKA his professional decision making squad. They’d been waiting patiently with him in Doctor Estrada’s office while she went about her rounds, and now it was time for him to put their presence to good use.
“Guys, baby Stark needs a name, and I’ve got three contenders. I need you to be the deciding votes,” he said, interrupting the relaxed silence for the first time since they’d been left alone in the office.
Rhodey and Pepper looked surprised. They probably thought he’d been designing a new weapon or something, with the intense way he’d been staring at his phone. “Alright, what are they?” Rhodey questioned, looking almost apprehensive.
“Right, first up is Edwin-”
“Nope,” Pepper cut in immediately.
“What! Why? Edwin Jarvis was my butler, and probably more of a father to me than my actual dad.”
“I know Tony, but Edwin is a very… old fashioned name. Your child will be bullied horrendously if he’s called Edwin. Besides, it doesn't really work with your last name,” Pepper explained patiently, and Tony had to admit that she had a point.
“Alright then, the next one that I thought of was Mark. Now, I know what you’re thinking-”
“ No, Tony!” Pepper and Rhodey shouted together, struggling to hold back their eye-rolls at his childlike nature.
“Jesus Christ, Tones, It’s like you’re trying to condemn this kid to a life of harassment at the hands of his peers. Mark Stark? Really? I cannot believe your immaturity extends to picking your own kid’s name,” Rhodey chastised, though he looked like he was fighting to contain his laughter.
“Fine, fine, I thought rhyming was cool now, but apparently not. You guys better like this next one, because I don’t really have any others. Ready?”
Pepper and Rhodey nodded eagerly.
“Peter Stark,” Tony said, grinning shyly as he looked up at his two best friends, who seemed to be waiting for a punchline that would never come. He’d saved his favourite for last. The name was from Peter Rabbit - a book his mom used to read to him when he was younger, about a mischievous little bunny. Knowing the Stark genes, baby Stark was going to be a cheeky little one as well.
Rhodey and Pepper shared a warm look. “It’s perfect, Tony,” Pepper said with a soft smile.
Another hour passed and the trio spent their time picking out baby clothes and nursery furniture online. Tony wasn’t sure of much in his new venture as a father, but he did know that his kid would be the most spoiled child in existence.
Moments later, Doctor Estrada bustled in with a smile on her typically stern face. “The results came back,” she revealed, as soon as she had all eyes in the room on her.
Rhodey and Pepper instantly straightened in their seats, and Tony sat up from where he’d been sprawled across the examination bed. He clasped his hands in his lap, for once perfectly still, and Pepper reached over and squeezed his knee lightly, her warm palm resting there, a comforting spot of warmth.
“Why do you all look so serious? It’s positive, you are the father, Mr Stark,” Doctor Estrada said, her small smile growing as she handed the results page to Tony to check over. He did, barely able to make sense of the graphs and chart through the buzzing joy in his head.
At the smile that broke on his face when he looked up from the page, Rhodey whooped and Pepper breathed out a small sigh of relief before laughing wetly. Tony didn’t pay any attention to them though, because he was suddenly overwhelmed by the explosion of happiness in his chest. It was nothing but warmth and light and oh God he could feel his eyes burning with unshed tears, but he didn’t have it in him to care because he had a son.
“Would you like to see him?” Doctor Estrada asked kindly, her smile wrinkling the corners of her eyes.
“Is that even a question?” Tony breathed, leaping up from the examination bed. “His name is Peter, by the way. Peter Stark.”
“That sounds lovely, I’ll put it on his chart when we get there,” she said, her tone silently amused. Tony hardly noticed though, because he was going to see his son.
After a tantalisingly long walk through even more bland hallways, and a long ride in an elevator, they reached the NICU. Tony would finally get to meet his baby .
Doctor Estrada ordered them to wash their hands thoroughly at the entrance to the ward, and it finally dawned on Tony just how unwell his child could be. He hadn’t actually gotten many answers on that, partially because he was too scared to ask, and now the fear was wrapping itself around his chest, squeezing the breath out of his lungs.
They entered, and all Tony could see were rows and rows of cribs, some open-topped and some full-on incubators.
Doctor Estrada must have seen the anxiety mounting in his chest, because she spoke up. “Some babies are born even earlier than Peter, and need an incubator to survive. Your son will be in an open-topped crib, as he’s really just here for observation, Mr Stark. I must warn you though, he’ll have a nasal cannula, but that’s just to support his lungs for a little bit. They’re the last thing to develop in the womb, so most preemies have at least low-grade asthma as children, but, for Peter at least, there won't be any serious long-term effects. There's also a risk of impaired eyesight or hearing, but he’s one of the healthier babies we have here at the moment. I wouldn’t expect many complications in his development. He’s a strong little fella, and already has most of the nurses wrapped around his finger.”
Tony’s stomach twisted anxiously at the possibility of the future health issues his baby might face, but at the mental image of his son charming everyone around him, he couldn’t contain a smile. That sounded like his boy.
Doctor Estrada stopped at a crib in the furthest corner of the room, close to the small kitchen area and bathroom. “This is him. Don’t be afraid to pick him up, but be mindful of his machines,” she said, before turning her attention to the chart hanging off the end of his crib.
Tony wasn’t paying attention to her, though. Instead, his gaze was fixated on the tiny, tiny figure he could see through the clear plastic sides of the crib. He approached slowly, scared that his footsteps would somehow disturb the child. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was aware that Rhodey and Pepper chose to hang back, but he didn’t care about his perfect, brilliant friends right now.
He peered over the edge and was met with bright, intelligent blue eyes staring back at him. Their colour might have shocked him, but he’d done his research. A lot of babies were born with blue eyes, because they hadn’t been exposed to any light and the pigment in them hadn’t had a chance to change to their actual colour.
Peter was so small . His chart said that he was sixteen inches long, and weighed three and a half pounds, but it looked like a light breeze could blow him off the face of the planet. He was wearing a diaper that dwarfed his small body, and there was a blue blanket in the crib with him, but he’d obviously tried to kick it off and had managed to get it twisted around his tiny, frog-like legs. There was a single curl of soft, brown hair growing out of his scalp, and Tony couldn’t help but reach out and stroke a calloused finger along Peter’s soft cheek.
He was perfect.
The baby blinked slowly, but otherwise didn't move. Tony wasn’t surprised, the kid was barely a day old. Hesitating only slightly, Tony slowly, slowly picked his little son up, mindful of the oxygen cannula that wasn’t as scary as he had thought it would be, and the heart monitor attached to Peter’s (tiny, tiny) chest.
The baby was so light, and Tony’s heart skipped a beat when he felt the weight in his arms because there was no way that was healthy, but he fit into his daddy’s arms like he was made to be there, and the billionaire turned to Rhodey and Pepper, holding Peter close to his chest like he would never let him go again. Tears were building in his eyes, and though Pepper and Rhodey looked blindingly happy, he bet his expression could outshine their’s a hundred times over.
Tony looked down at the little baby in his arms, who was staring up at him in awe, as if his father’s face was the most miraculous thing he’d ever seen. “Hey, Petey, I’m your daddy. That’s right, baby, daddy’s finally here,” he crooned. Right there, surrounded by Pepper and Rhodey, with the comforting weight of Peter in his arms, he felt calm and so, so happy.
He had Peter now, who was his and his alone.