Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or trademarks mentioned in this work of fiction. No profit is made from it.
A/N: I have a couple of other works I could be working on right now, but this idea got a hold of me and wouldn't let me go. It could potentially be continued if there is any interest.
Trigger Warning: Child abuse is a heavy theme and is mentioned though out this work, both physical and psychological. Please do not read this if it is going to be triggering for you.
"Dad…"
"Peter," Tony responded absentmindedly, fairly certain that his son's voice was in his head from lack of proper nutrition and sleep combined with entirely too much caffeine, but just in case it wasn't, he wanted to make sure that he responded. Howard had often gotten so lost in his own thoughts, in or out of the lab, that Tony could be standing beside him for hours before he was acknowledged. Of course, if Howard did come out of the spell and Tony wasn't there, and he always remembered when he had summoned his son, then Tony was in for much worse than standing at attention, sometimes until he was swaying back and forth, weak with hunger. Tony never wanted Peter to feel that way. From the moment May Parker, tired and radiant, had laid the baby she'd carried for him and Pepper in his arms he had sworn that Peter would know that there was nothing more important in his life than his son. Yeah, sometimes he got distracted, but even if he was distracted, Peter had always known that he would come up out of his work fog as soon as he could to talk to him.
And even if it wasn't that important and Peter left before he finally got out of his own head, Tony would always seek him out and they would sit down and talk about whatever it was that Peter had wanted to talk about, usually over whatever meal if was closest to. The times he wasn't there when Howard called were some of the only times that Howard actually laid a hand on him. He never left the marks where anyone could see them, of course. It wouldn't do to have Tony looking battered in front of the press. Whether they reacted sympathetically to a child they believed was being abused or they speculated that something was wrong in his child's brain that made him clumsy and prone to accidents it would be unacceptable. Tony was pretty sure that he made sure he was in as many papers and gossip rags as possible for so long because Howard had hated anyone other than himself being reported on at any time. Tony, and to a lesser extent, Maria, were just there to make Howard look more human. And if he put out cigarettes on his son's skin when he was particularly angry with him and if he sometimes left Tony bloody on the floor, it was no one's business but his how he was raising his offspring.
"Dad!"
The unpleasant memories and the phantom pain of the belt on his back from so many years before brought him out of his work haze almost immediately, so fast that he almost felt dizzy as he straightened up and turn around in his stool. He blinked a couple times to get his eyes to focus on the earnest face of his sixteen-year-old son in front of him, almost too close as if he'd been ready to set a hand to Tony's shoulder. Huh. Must be important to Peter then if he was actually going to insist that they speak right that minute.
"Son of mine!" Tony knew that his jovial tone and the wide smile on his face were a little forced. He could see it in the concerned wrinkle of Peter's eyes, but when he'd been old enough Tony and Pepper had sat him down and gently, kindly told him about Tony's father and why Tony reacted the way he did at times. Their son was empathetic enough, and socially adept enough, to know that repressing it and ignoring it were Tony's coping mechanisms and as unhealthy as they were it wasn't Peter's job, as the kid, to worry about them, even though he always did, "What's up, kiddo?"
"I, uh, I really need your help on something. I've been trying to do it by myself, but I can't quite get it." Peter's excess energy, so much like Tony's own, translated into nervous movement, shifting his weight, running his hands through his hair, wringing them, snapping randomly. When he spoke you could gauge how important the conversation was to him by how much he used his hands. Judging by the way he would reach out as if to stress his point, then pull his arms back in almost immediately, whatever it was, it was really important to his son. Tony put down the tool he still had in hand and made eye contact with Peter so that his son would know that he had his absolute attention.
"What's up, Pete?" He asked, before Peter could begin to ramble, "How can I help?"
"I need help with this…" Peter grabbed what had looked like an instrument case from his feet and set it on the table. Tony had wondered about the case, because last he knew Pepper had given up on Peter playing an instrument when he was five and Tony had helped him take apart the grand piano she'd bought him to figure out all of the components and how they all worked to produce sound. But, it wasn't an instrument at all. When Peter opened up the case Tony leaned in, fascinated, to look at the unique project it held.
It was a prosthetic. A child's prosthetic from the look of it. The arm had several points of articulation from the elbow, to each and every finger in multiple places. Tony could tell that it was meant to function very much like a flesh and blood arm. He picked it up carefully, in deference to work that had obviously already gone into it and looked at it from every angle. It was meant to be attached just below the shoulder, it looked like, but there weren't any straps that Tony could see that were meant to hold it in place. He looked down inside and huffed out a surprised breath at the work. The sensors were just incredible. It was meant to attach and, using a series of sensors, function just as any flesh and blood arm would. It kind of blew Tony's mind the obvious work and talent that had already gone into the arm.
"J.A.R.V.I.S.?"
"Yes, Sir?" the A.I. responded immediately.
"Get Bruce up here, would you? Tell him it's important."
"Of course, sir. Right away."
"Dad?" Peter asked, looking nervous.
"Peter…" Tony breathed, "This is incredible. This…what?"
Luckily his son knew exactly what he meant and immediately launched into the explanation that Tony was looking for, "You remember when we dedicated the children's ward at Nonna's hospital?"
"I remember."
"Well, when you and Mom were shaking hands and kissing babies or whatever it is you guys do at those things I talked to a couple of the kids who were invited. One of the was a little jerk. He was moody and had the biggest chip on his shoulder because we have money and I…"
Tony grinned, "You liked him right away."
"Yeah. He was fun once I got him to actually talk to me. We joked around until his group had to go back to their group home." Peter ran his hand through his hair, "I didn't think I'd see him again, but a couple of weeks later the decathlon team went to the middle school to help some kids with their science projects and he was there. He had the nastiest look on his face so no one really wanted to work with him, but he saw me and he remembered me and I was probably the only one who was going to work him anyway, so…He had these ideas for a new arm for himself. He lost his arm in a car accident when he was eight and he's been getting along without it okay since then, but he says he needs something better than he has now. He needs something he can actually use. And his ideas are great, Dad, but he doesn't have the money to fabricate what he wants. And we do, and we've gotten this far, but it's still not quite there in articulation and response time, and I want him to have what he wants so bad, but…"
"Pete, Pete! Breathe!" Tony reached out and put his hands on his son's shoulders. Once he'd gotten the steam going, he couldn't seem to stop and he was almost hyperventilating at the end, "Calm down and breathe with me, kid."
It took a couple of minutes, but eventually Peter calmed enough to breathe normally, and then he surprised Tony by throwing himself in his arms. Peter had always been a physically affectionate person. When he was little, he'd always wanted to be cuddled on Tony's lap or on Pepper's lap, he always wanted to be holding someone's hand, and he never hesitated to enthusiastically return a hug, but as he'd gotten older and he'd seen how physical contact could sometimes make Tony uncomfortable he'd taken to hip checking his dad, or putting a hand on his shoulder, not necessarily the big contact stuff, but when he needed it, Tony was not going to deny him the comfort.
"What's going on, Peter Pan?" Tony asked, gently.
"I think he needs the arm because someone's hurting him, Dad." Peter said quietly, still trembling, "We were doing so good and I was so excited, I put my hand on his shoulder and he made this sound. It was like kicking a puppy. I could see his back, it's all black and blue, but he ran away before I could say anything and I don't know what to do except make sure he gets what he needs."
"What's his name, Pete."
Peter relaxed in his arms so easily that Tony knew he'd understood what Peter was hoping for when he'd brought this to his dad. Tony had gone cold when Peter had admitted his concerns. For a second he was back in his father's office, unable to defend himself against the man, knowing it would only make it worse. He'd never wanted Peter to be touched by anything of the sort, but somehow it had found his boy anyway. And he wasn't going to let it break his heart. He refused.
"James Barnes. People call him Bucky. I have absolutely no idea why." Peter laughed a little hysterically.
"Pete," Tony pulled back a little, put his hands on either side of Peter's face, and waited until Peter placed his own hands on his shoulders. It was a position they had discovered through trial and error when Peter had a panic attack, "I am going to fix this. I promise you. No one's going to hurt him again."
Peter nodded and closed his eyes, a couple of tears leaking out of them. He was so strong and getting to be the kind of man that Tony was so proud to call him son, that seeing the tears brought a couple of his own to his eyes. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Peter's forehead.
"I know you will, Dad." Peter's absolute faith in him made his breath hitch a little.
"Am I interrupting something?" Bruce's voice broke both Tony and Peter out of their haze and they jumped away from each other, not quite embarrassed, "J.A.R.V.I.S. said you needed me for something important?"
"Yeah, Brucie-Bear! Totally need you for the most important thing! We're fabricating an actually useful prosthetic for a…"
"Eight." Peter supplied.
"Eight-year-old." Tony finished, "Pete has the prototype, but he was saying that it's still not where it needs to be for articulation and response. This could be a huge division for SI if we can make this work. Could you help Pete get started on some improvements? I have a couple things that I need to do real quick."
Tony could see on Bruce's face that he was picking up on the tension in both Peter and himself and was relieved when his best friend and colleague stepped into the room, nodding already and reaching out for the prototype. Tony handed it over and only waited long enough for Bruce to begin exclaiming over the work as he had before he slipped out of the lab.
"J.A.R.V.I.S., free up Pepper's afternoon, code Peter to let her know how important it is. Tell her he's okay and then have her meet me in the penthouse and get me one of the lawyers on standby in case we need them. And find the kid." Tony ordered as he stepped into the elevator.
"Already done, Sir" J.A.R.V.I.S. responded, rattling off the information for a group home in Brooklyn. "I've already contacted Ms. Moore. She is waiting for contact from yourself or Mrs. Potts-Stark. I alerted her to pull forms for emergency guardianship, information to follow. Mr. Hogan has been notified of the need for a driver and Mrs. Potts-Stark is already waiting for you in the penthouse. I feel I must inform you that she is not happy with you."
"Some things are more important than my wife being happy with me, J.A.R.V." Tony said as he walked off the elevator.
"Oh, are they?" Pepper asked, her tone cold as ice. She was beautifully put together, as she always was, her hair up in the French knot that he loved to loose it from, her suit a striking baby blue that complimented her complexion, her toe tapping in the nude shoe with the killer heel that he knew she normally would have kicked off as soon as she walked into their home, her arms crossed.
"This is, Pep," He said seriously, took her elbow, and led her to the bar before pouring a single finger of Scotch for both of them. Pepper looked surprised. Tony hadn't reached for alcohol for comfort since Peter was born. She watched him carefully and took a sip of her own drink only when he'd downed his and then put the glass down. He needed the drink to steady himself, but he wasn't going to let himself have anything more. He wanted to be sharp. He watched her get angrier and angrier as he told her what Peter had told him, her mouth pinching at the corners, her eyes narrowing. When he finished she downed the rest of her drink and turned around.
"What the hell are you waiting for, Stark?" She asked tensely.
Tony grinned, following in the wake of her righteous fury. He was quiet as she and Ms. Moore, their most competent and brutal lawyer, discussed the forms that were needed. Ms. Moore was certain that if they were able to get pictures of the abuse and send them to her that it would be no problem to get them emergency guardianship of the boy. They had a good reputation as wonderful, loving parents to a well-mannered, by all accounts wonderful, kind boy and, disgustingly more important, they had money to support the child. J.A.R.V.I.S. was forwarding her information about the boy as soon as he could uncover it and the forms would be completed before they even got there. Happy kept sending worried glances at him in the rear-view, not used to him being so quiet, but he wasn't able to speak around the fury in his throat. His knuckles were white and he was afraid that he was going to break his phone. Without missing a beat, Pepper took his phone from his hand and linked her fingers with his, squeezing just as hard as he was. He focused on the feel of her hand against his the rest of the ride, shutting out the rest of the world. His thoughts narrowed as they only ever did when he was working.
Bucky…Bucky…No one's going to hurt Bucky again…became the mantra in his head.
When they finally got to the group home Tony took three deep breaths, Pepper waiting for him, before he stepped out of the car when Happy opened the door. There was a woman who obviously hadn't bathed in a few days, in her bathrobe with a beer and a cigarette, sitting on the stairs. Tony and Pepper had taught Peter all his life that they didn't use their name to leverage anything in their lives. They used their wit, their gifts, but never just a name. They hadn't really earned the name, after all, they were born with it. But, Tony had to admit, it did come in handy at times. He put his sunglasses on, knew they cost more than the woman probably saw in a month though she wouldn't recognize that, and felt the mantle of "The Tony Stark" come over him. It had never been who he was, but he'd used it so long that it had taken love and genuine friendship from people like Pepper, Rhodey, Happy, Bruce and his wife Betty, and May Parker to make him see that he was so much more than "The Tony Stark." Peter's birth had put the final coffin in the persona of "The Tony Stark" being used with people he loved and who loved him, but he knew Pepper wouldn't begrudge him the use of the costume when he was feeling so vulnerable.
"Hi," He grinned charmingly, "Are you the head of this fine establishment?" He put enough charm in it that the lady sat up and attempted to straighten her robe.
"What's it to you?" She asked suspiciously.
"I'm Tony Stark and this is my wife."
"Virginia Potts-Stark," Pepper had put on her own public persona, iced over charm.
"Our son, Peter, told us about one of your residents and we just had to meet him. James Barnes? Likes to go by Bucky?"
"Oh!" Hearing their names, the woman stood and put out her cigarette. Comically, her hand went up to the hair that would need to be washed at least three times before it could even be made presentable, "I'm Barb Wooden, and yeah. Me, and my husband, Chuck, run this home. Yeah, Bucky stays with us, but really, if you're interested in a kid, you really don't want Bucky. Kid's a troublemaker. Has been since his parents were killed in the accident. Just screwed something up in his head when he lost them and the arm."
"All the same," Pepper said icily, "We'd like to speak with him if you don't mind."
"Oh, sure. Come on in. Pardon the mess. We weren't expecting company."
"Not a problem," Tony smiled again, completely aware that it was the smile that made him look vaguely shark-like, according to his wife and son.
They walked into the house, which was cleaner than expected. Whatever else happened to Bucky under this roof there were no cockroaches running rampant, no hoarder situation that would need to also be addressed. They were shown to the kitchen and offered drinks that they declined as they sat at the table, waiting.
"Just breathe, babe," Pepper reminded him under her breath as he gripped her hand as his only lifeline.
It was a good ten minutes before a kid was practically shoved into the kitchen in from of Mrs. Wooden. Tony took a lot in with his first glance. The kid, as expected, had only his right arm, as had been expected. He looked thin for his age, though maybe a little above average height. He was probably only a couple inches shorter than Peter and from the gaunt look of his face the light weight was due to lack of nutrition, not puberty. His long hair was wet, as if someone had made him try to comb the wild mess down. His clothes were clean, but not well-fitting, as if he'd been forced into someone else's clothes for the meeting. It was the body language, though, that worried Tony the most. He was curled in on himself, as if trying to make himself seem smaller and he eyed them warily, before blinking in recognition. Smart kid. Tony decided, he'd made the connection that they were Peter's parents. Then, he looked like he'd rather be anywhere else and wasn't that a mystery?
"We'd like to speak to Bucky alone, please." Pepper said, keeping her voice low and steady. His wife had always been more observant than he was and probably saw a lot more than he did.
"Well, you see…" Mrs. Wooden began.
"We insist." Pepper used her tone that made men who'd been through a lot more than Barb Wooden crumble and the woman scooted out of the room, glancing behind her suspiciously.
"Bucky," Her tone softened to the same voice she used when Peter was sick or worried about something, "Please sit down. We just want to talk to you, I promise."
The boy was still looking at them suspiciously, "Come on, kid," Tony worked to make his voice as gentle as his wife's, "You trust Pete enough to let him work on the arm with you. Trust us enough to talk with us for a few minutes?"
At the mention of Peter Bucky visibly relaxed and slunk to the table, pulling out a chair and sitting in it, slumped, looking down, and not at either of them. Pepper looked at him, then at Tony, and the helplessness in her eyes made Tony's heart clench and made it hard to swallow around the emotion in his throat. She wanted to help, but in this situation she just didn't know how. Tony looked at the boy in front of them and closed his eyes, trying to think of the questions he'd wished someone would just ask when he was a child, still fearing his father.
"Bucky," Tony said quietly, "Can you look at me?"
There was a shake of the head. Okay, Tony could deal with that.
"Can you look at Pepper?"
There was a pause before bright blue eyes looked up and met Pepper's.
"Good. You just look at Pepper, then. I'm going to ask you some hard questions. I need you to answer them with the truth. I know that you don't know us beyond Peter. And I know that this is going to be really hard for you. Do you want Pepper to hold your hand?"
The kid shook his head, breathing hard.
"That's fine. But, if you ever need anyone to hold your hand, you can say it. No judgment. Pepper's holding my hand right now, because I need her to." Their joined hands were laid on the table and Bucky's sight shifted to them, "No one is going to touch you if you don't want them to, even to hold your hand. Do you think you can answer some questions?"
The shaggy head nodded. "Yes," the voice was so quiet.
"Okay. We'll go as slow as you need." Tony searched his mind for anything that might make the next conversation easier to begin, "Peter brought your prototype into my lab today after you left the coaching session. He said you came up with a lot of the ideas, you just didn't have a lot of resources to help with fabrication. He's so proud of you. And I have to say that what I saw was very good work. It was stunning, really. My colleague, Bruce Banner, and Peter, are actually looking at it right now, trying to determine where improvements can be made to make it easier to use. You're very smart, Bucky."
Bucky flinched as if he'd been slapped at the compliment, then colored in a sweet way, "Thank you."
"I really think that your ideas could have a practical application for Stark Industries. How would you feel about that?"
For the first time, Bucky looked at him, and his mouth was open in shock. After a moment he came back to himself and looked back at Pepper, swallowing hard.
"Tony wouldn't say it if it wasn't true, sweetheart," Pepper smiled, "SI is his baby as much as Peter is."
"Peter was so impressed and happy today," Tony continued, "But he told me that when he tried to put his hand on your shoulder he saw something bad. Can you show us?"
Bucky breathed in harshly and pushed away from the table, though he didn't get up, shaking his head violently.
"Okay, okay…" Tony said calmly, "That's fine. Like I said, Bucky, no one is going to touch you without your permission. But, I need you to answer me truthfully. Did you get bruised in an accident?"
It took nearly five minutes, but Tony and Pepper just waited, Bucky looking back and forth between them before he finally lowered his head miserably and shook it.
"Okay…" Tony breathed, "Thanks for telling me. Did someone hurt you, Bucky? Someone here?"
Another five minutes, and then a nod.
"Another kid?"
A shake accompanied by a sob. Tony could see that Pepper was nearly trembling with the effort not to jump over the table and take Bucky in her arms, but her promise to the boy was more important to her than her own need to comfort him.
"Are the adults here hurting you?" Tony asked softly, as gently as he could manage.
Bucky began to breathe harder, but he finally nodded, "They get paid more for us, but they don't like broken kids."
Tony's own breath caught so fast that it made Bucky look up.
"You are not broken, sweetheart," Pepper said strongly, holding out her free hand, almost begging Bucky to take it with her eyes, "You are strong and beautiful. Never let anyone tell you otherwise." Pepper was crying by that point and Tony felt himself start when Bucky finally reached across the table and took Pepper's hand in his own. Pepper squeezed, but not too tight, she wanted him to know that he'd be able to get away from her if he needed to.
"Sweetheart," Pepper took over, "If you let us take pictures, we can get you out of here. Tonight. Right now. You can come home with us where no one will ever hurt you again."
"No!" The reaction from Bucky was instantaneous and unpredictable. His head flew up, his eyes wide with terror, and he pulled his arm away from Pepper and was out of the room before either of them could blink. Tony jumped up so violently that his chair flew backward into the cabinet and took off after him. He couldn't think of anything else as he followed Bucky and finally caught up with him at the top of a staircase. He broke his own rule and grabbed on to Bucky, pulling the boy's back to his chest and holding him tight in his arms.
"No!" Bucky screamed again, "I can't go with you! I can't!"
Tony just held him, murmuring nonsense into his hair until finally Bucky collapsed and relaxed in his arms, sobbing his heart out.
"Sweetheart, sweetheart," Pepper murmured, petting Bucky's hair as he cried, "It's okay. It's okay."
"What's going on, buddy?" Tony asked, feeling Bucky's panic begin to take hold in him, "Tell me, please. What's going on?"
"I can't leave them!" Bucky cried out, throwing himself forward into Pepper's arms and pointing at the door at the end of the hall. Tony felt like he was in a dream as he left Bucky with Pepper and made his way down the hall. He hadn't felt such dread weigh him down with every step since his father used to call him to his office for a beating. When he got to the door, he almost heaved a sigh of relief to find it locked. Then, without knowing what he was doing, he kicked the door open.
There were two other boys in the room. One about the same age as Bucky, if Tony had to guess, but much more compact, though he was no less emaciated, and in his arms was a kid who couldn't have been more than three, more skeleton than kid. The older was cradling the little one and looked between them with eyes that saw everything saw into Tony's very soul.
"It's okay," Tony got on his knees and held out a hand, trying to be as non-threating as possible, "We're here to help."
The older boy, his dishwater blonde hair, almost covering his eyes, stayed where he was, not moving, his breath heaving and his eyes darting around the room as if looking for an escape.
"Clint!" Bucky's voice sounded from the hall and Tony moved aside as Bucky broke into the room, his hands moving wildly. He was signing, Tony realized with a start. Because the other kid, Clint, couldn't hear him. Because he was deaf and either couldn't use or didn't have hearing aids. As soon as he saw Bucky, he relaxed and the two huddled together, looking worriedly at the little one in Clint's arms.
"An ambulance has been called and is en route, Sir, Ma'am." J.A.R.V.I.S. said quietly into Tony's earpiece, and he knew that Pepper was getting the same message in her own, "Mr. Hogan is detaining Mrs. Wooden. The police are on their way to your location as well as Mr. Wooden's workplace. Ms. Moore has all of the information I could find on all three boys. James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes, age 8, lost his parents in an automobile accident that also left him without his left arm. Clinton Francis Barton, age 8, was turned over to the system after his parents were killed in an alcohol related car accident, has one older brother, Bernard Barton, age 18, whereabouts unknown. Clinton is mostly deaf in both ears. And Steven Grant Rogers, age 2. Father was killed in Afghanistan, mother lost her battle with cancer 9months ago. The boy has been in and out of the hospital all of his life, no evidence prior to the mother's death, of abuse. He seems to have some undiagnosed medical ailments."
"He'll get the best of care now," Pepper said strongly. She crawled across the floor in her nine-thousand-dollar skirt, not caring a whit for it, and was patient and kind, when Clinton hesitated protectively and tried to shield Steven from her. Bucky got into his sight line and whatever he signed made Clinton relax because he handed the little one over to her. Pepper rocked the still sleeping, or perhaps unconscious, toddler in her arms, and pressed kisses to his face as she cried over him.
"Pep," Tony said quietly, "Let's get them out of here."
Pepper nodded and stood with Tony's help, not letting go of the little one in her arms. Tony knew the look in her eyes as she held him as tightly as she dared and looked back at the boys behind her, desperate not to leave them. They were going to be theirs. Pepper already thought of all three as theirs and no matter how hard they had to fight or how much money they had to throw at this, they were going to be theirs in fact as well as feeling. Tony understood. He felt the same way.
"Come with me, boys," Tony said quietly, "Please. We're going to get Steven some help and none of you will ever have to look at this place again. Please. You can come home with us. All of you. Just come with me now."
"You can trust them," Bucky said and signed to Clinton at the same time, "They're Peter's parents. They don't hurt when they touch." Tony's heart broke, and the tears streamed down his face, not that he cared, when both boys threw their arms around him and kept them around his waist as they all began to move as a unit through the house. Before they made it to the front door J.A.R.V.I.S. warned that press had gotten wind of what was happening and there were at least three photographers outside, along with two ambulances, three police cars, and Happy trying to contain it all.
"Hide your faces, boys," Tony murmured quietly before they stepped out the door. They'd had so much taken from them. Tony wasn't going to allow their privacy to be breached so soon after he found them, "I'll get you to the ambulance. I know it's going to be hard, but we need let Pepper to take Steven in another ambulance." Both boys tensed and looked at him with distrust in their too-old eyes. "But, we'll all go to the same place. I'll come with you. Pepper will go with him. Please. I know it's hard, but I need you to trust me for just a bit longer."
Clinton looked at Bucky and there seemed to be an unspoken conversation between them before, simultaneously, they put their arms back around his waist and buried their faces in his hips. Tony took off his jacket and handed it over to Pepper so that she could lay it over Steven to keep his face out of the press as well, then set his hands to the boy's backs. He nodded at Pepper and as one they moved out of the house and toward the ambulances with their flashing lights. There were other flashes as they moved, bright and obviously from cameras, but the boys kept their faces hidden and the ambulance attendants closed the doors as soon as Tony was in one ambulance with Bucky and Clinton and Pepper was in the other with Steven.
Things happened fast after that. They were taken to a hospital where the boys refused to let Tony out of their sight and his heart broke when he had to let them go and they cried through the police taking pictures for their case against the Wooden's. When the police were gone and the doctor's had pronounced both Bucky and Clinton, Clint, as he liked to be called, not in any danger (Dehydration they needed IVs for, malnutrition, and multiple contusions, a couple of fractures, that would heal with time.) Tony pushed the beds together in the room he'd demanded for them, and promised he would stand guard and find out how Steven ("Stevie!" Bucky insisted.) was doing. Finally, after the worst afternoon of his life, his boys finally fell asleep, cuddling close to each other. He was honored, and broken, that they trusted him to enough to keep watch for them. Pepper sent Happy to him a couple of hours later, refusing to leave Stevie. But, the news was good. Stevie had been dangerously dehydrated and malnourished, and had pneumonia, but he was responding well to treatment and he'd woken up briefly for a bottle and had then fallen back asleep against Pepper in the rocking chair that she'd been brought. Happy had taken a picture and Tony had seen on Pepper's face the absolute contentment of motherhood that he hadn't seen on her face since Peter himself was small enough to be rocked in her lap. Yes, these boys were theirs. All three of them.
"Ms. Moore has finalized the paperwork for emergency guardianship. The judge has signed off on it. There are private shoppers preparing rooms for young Master Bucky, Master Clint, and Master Stevie. Would you like me to ask Ms. Moore to begin official proceedings for adoption?"
"J.A.R.V.," Tony lifted his eyebrow, "You saw the picture. I know you did. What do you think?"
"Very well, Sir," J.A.R.V.I.S. almost sounded smug, "I had already informed Ms. Moore of such."
Tony huffed a laugh at the sass of his A.I. and then sat down in the chair next to the pushed together bed. Clint, who had yet to say a word, looked at him with eyes entirely too old, and held out a hand. Tony took the offered hand and then breathed easier when Clint closed his eyes trustingly. It was only a half hour later when Peter snuck into the room as took Bucky's hand when it was offered.
When both boys had fallen asleep again Peter looked at him, a radiant smile on his face, "This is a really good thing, Dad."
"Yeah." Tony agreed. He leaned his head back against the uncomfortable chair, exhausted but happier than he could remember being for a long time. "So, Pete…how would do you feel about getting three new brothers?"
