"Mrs. Jarvis, how come you and Mr. Jarvis never had any kids?"
Jarvis stopped dead, clasping Howard Stark's dry cleaning against his chest and catching his breath. Did the boy's impudence know no bounds? He leaned cautiously forward, peeking around the edge of the door.
Tony Stark was perched on a stool across the kitchen island from Ana, carving a sheet of rolled-out dough into bizarre shapes with a pastry knife.
"Well, now, Master Tony," Ana responded playfully, "when would we have time for you?"
"You have more time than Dad does. Maybe you're just better at your jobs than he is." His eyes lit up. "If you did have a kid, I'd help take care of him. Then you wouldn't need much more time."
From his position, Jarvis could only see Ana's back, and yet he observed the ever-so-slight pause before she answered.
"Sometimes life doesn't look like you thought it would."
Tony cocked his head at her, confused. She sighed, brushed the flour off her hands, and moved to one of the chairs by the kitchen table.
"Come here," she invited, patting her lap. The dark-haired 5-year-old clambered down from the stool and ran to her. She pulled his head to her shoulder.
Jarvis swallowed hard. He had seen her grant Tony brief hugs, or a pat on the head, but this went beyond anything he had witnessed. From the easy way Tony wound his arms around her neck, however, this was far from a first occurrence.
"Mr. Jarvis and I are a little too old to have children now," she said. "But I wish we could have had one just for you to play with. Someone besides the friends you have to make for yourself."
Tony went still. "You know about them?"
Ana nodded. "You're such a clever boy. I'm so very proud of you." She dropped her voice conspiratorially. "So is Mr. Jarvis, no matter how cross at you he pretends to be sometimes."
"Mr. Jarvis is proud of me?"
The look on the young face almost broke Jarvis' heart. He resolved to have a talk with Howard Stark about the time he made for his son, for whatever good it would do.
And he resolved something else.
He turned on his heel and carried the dry cleaning upstairs by an alternate staircase, so as not to pass the kitchen door. Then he went to his own bedroom and rummaged in the closet until he found a thin rectangular case. He dusted the top and smiled.
By the time he returned to the kitchen, Ana was placing a cookie sheet into the oven, and her small assistant was starting to roll out the next batch.
"Master Tony, there you are," announced Jarvis in his most official tone. "I've been looking everywhere for you."
"Really?" asked Tony, shooting an apprehensive look at Ana.
"Really," Jarvis insisted. "I thought it was high time a bright young lad such as yourself learned the game of kings." He held up the box. "Chess."
"You want to play with me?"
Jarvis' expression softened. "I would consider it an honor and a privilege if you allowed me to teach you."
Tony jumped down and raced to the table. Jarvis set out the board and began explaining the pieces and the ways they could move.
Just as they were about to start the first game, Ana set a plate of gear-shaped sugar cookies next to them. "Brain food," she said solemnly, but the corners of her mouth were twitching.
"Can you watch us play?" asked Tony. "Just one game."
"I don't see why not," she said, and slid into the chair next to Jarvis.
As Tony took his time selecting which cookie to eat first, Ana reached over and placed a quick kiss on her husband's cheek. When he turned to her, her eyes were misty.
"I'm very proud of you, you know," he murmured, taking her hand.
"I do, my love." She squeezed gently. "I do."
"Mrs. Jarvis?"
"Yes, Tony?"
"You'll always have me," he declared loyally.
She laughed and held out her free hand for his. "And you will always have us."
A brief flicker of fear crossed Tony's face, replaced with a grin backed by ironclad determination. "Yeah," he said. "I will."
