Breathe.
It was a command that Pepper had heard far too many times for her liking since the beginning. She'd told herself to breathe way back when, during those sleepless nights when most of the aching came from wondering if Tony would ever come around. She'd told herself to breathe whenever the notion of doing this on her own got to be too much, just because focusing on a single-word command was easier than letting herself fall apart.
Breathe.
Then, several months later, the command had turned over to Bruce when he was still the only one who knew that the pain was more than just mental. Again, the word only ever came out at night, when Tony was asleep beside them and Bruce's warm arms were around her, trying to get her through the uncomfortable episodes that came night after night. Listening to him say it was better. That way, she was sure that she wasn't on her own anymore.
Breathe.
Now it was Tony's turn to say it, but Pepper wished with everything she had that it was under different circumstances. It was too early; it wasn't right. His knuckles were white around the steering wheel as he just repeated it over and over, probably with the hopes that getting some air would soften some of the whimpers and cries of pain that Pepper just couldn't hold back no matter how hard she tried.
She tried to breathe, but she couldn't. Not now.
The trip from the car into the hospital was nothing short of a blur. It was a whirlwind of nurses and monitors and fluorescent lights, and somewhere in between Bruce came tumbling into the room in a windblown frenzy.
"I should have stayed." Bruce was muttering to himself as he took a place beside Pepper opposite where Tony was on the other side of the narrow hospital bed. "I should have been there. Dammit, I should have stayed." The words were laced with regret and self-doubt, and Pepper wasn't sure if it was his hand trembling against her arm or if she was just in too much pain to realize that it was actually her entire body that was shaking.
"Don't think it would have made much a difference if you were there, buddy," Tony said in a clear attempt to be supportive, but his tone didn't do anything but convey how guilty he felt for not being there, either.
"Doesn't matter," Bruce mumbled, then dropped the subject in favor of turning his attention back to Pepper instead. "How are you? Are you okay?" Dumb question. Clearly she wasn't okay; none of them were. The answer was only reaffirmed when Pepper didn't answer, and Bruce felt his heart leap worriedly and then snap back into place like elastic. "Pepper? Can you hear me?"
Pepper wanted to answer. She really did. But as it was, she was genuinely terrified that if she opened her mouth to speak, all that would come out would be another strained and rather bloodcurdling cry of pain, and she was the last person who wanted to hear that again. Her insides felt like they were tearing themselves apart with every contraction and, honestly, even every breath—no, Bruce, I'm not fucking okay.
She still nodded, though. He needed confirmation that she wasn't too far gone to not be able hear him, and she was at least capable of giving him that much.
"What's going on in here?" Dr. Montgomery swept into the room then, trailed by a couple nurses and what looked like a few dumbfounded medical students who stayed closer to the door. If it had been under any other circumstance, Pepper would have wanted the wide-eyed, untrained interns as far away from her as possible—if you think those amateur eyes are looking between my legs, you've got another thing coming—but as it was, she would take any and all options she could get if it meant making this agony stop.
"Kinda hoping you could tell me," Tony said, a twinge of bitter sarcasm making its way into his tone despite his best efforts. Pepper mistakenly tried to produce a laugh at his lack of poise, but instead all that came out was a vaguely mangled, suppressed noise of pain.
"That's the plan," the doctor basically muttered as she checked over Pepper and worked on getting an ultrasound going as fast as possible. "Pepper? Can you talk to me?"
Pepper would have shook her head 'no,' but that would have required a significant amount of effort that she wasn't prepared to take away from the task of staying reasonably quiet. She knew it didn't matter in the grand scheme of things, but even as all the other sounds and voices around her dulled to an unintelligible murmur, she held on tightly to the notion that she didn't want to hear herself scream.
They must have worked out that a fist-hand account wasn't an option, because when Pepper forced her eyes open again she could make out the movement of Tony's lips as he explained. Bruce was stiff beside her, a worrying amount if she'd been able to properly process it, but her mind didn't let her off its short leash long enough to focus on anything but the horror show playing out inside her body. Carefully, Pepper drew in a breath, hoping that some oxygen might help her tune back into the frenzy in the room around her—but then the doctor pressed the ultrasound probe a little too hard in definitely the wrong spot, and the scream she had put so much effort into stifling finally ripped out of her.
Everything faded to white noise then, and Pepper wasn't even sure if she was still conscious. Pain had consumed every part of her, a white hot searing sensation throughout every inch of her body—no, this couldn't be what unconsciousness felt like. It couldn't feel like this.
"Prep an OR." Somehow those three words cut through the fog as the doctor barked them, and Pepper felt herself well up with terror again, the dread rising and filling up all the cracks like smoke. "She's hemorrhaging, that baby needs to come out right now."
That was the last thing Pepper heard before she faded out again and her surroundings seemed to disappear. She didn't register any movement or a change of scenery, but the one thing she felt beyond the pain was the sudden rush of cold air against her hands when the warmth of Tony and Bruce's stiff grips was gone.
This can't be happening.
A breath.
It's too early.
Another breath.
I'm not ready.
Once the doctors, nurses, and other generally frantic members of the hospital staff had wheeled Pepper out of the room, Tony suddenly felt the weight of the crushing silence upon his shoulders.
The room just seemed so empty, and not only in the literal sense—he felt like the entire world had just fallen out around him, and all he was left with was static background and the sounds of his own heavy breaths whooshing in his ears. He hadn't felt this kind of empty, static void open up within in since… well, since Afghanistan, or since he watched Pepper fall 200 feet into that pit of fire, or since those brief moments not too long ago that he feared Bruce might leave him because of the very thing they were experiencing right now.
It was so consuming and overwhelming that Tony wasn't sure if it would ever end, or if he would ever get his own thoughts and emotions back in his own control. Whenever he took a breath it seemed to fill a body that didn't feel like his own, and his vague thoughts seemed to ricochet uncontrollably off the sides of his skull—god, is this was Bruce felt like?
Oh. Shit.
Bruce.
It wasn't until that particular thought crossed his mind that Tony remembered he wasn't alone in the room, and when he managed to come back to himself just barely, he realized that the rough, labored breaths he'd been hearing weren't even his own. They were Bruce's, and once Tony's eyes refocused he very much understood why the man was breathing so harshly.
"Bruce?" Tony would have cringed at the sound of his voice if he wasn't already so preoccupied. It was raspy, crackly, and filled with a disgusting amount of worry, but for the moment he was just happy to get words out. Bruce, on the other hand, wasn't having the same luck.
The man was standing, but only just barely, hunched over himself in a way that would make any chiropractor question his career choices. Bruce's hands were bunched into his unruly hair, and his knuckles were so white that Tony knew it could only mean one thing was happening. He just prayed that he wouldn't see any green beginning to spread over his boyfriend's skin.
"Bruce?" Tony said his name again, even though he knew it wouldn't snap him out of anything. "Come on, buddy, can you talk to me?" He wasn't dumb enough to ask if Bruce was okay. Clearly nobody was okay at this point, although Pepper probably took the cake.
Bruce just grunted, and the sound was definitely more beast than human. It made Tony almost hesitant to approach, but he had to if he didn't want to call up the Stark Relief Fund to rebuild the hospital after a certain green beast made it topple to the ground. That wasn't something Tony wanted on the news (especially considering how vulnerable Pepper was at the moment). It had just been so long since Tony had to talk Bruce down and out of a potential incident, and now really wasn't the best time to do it. At all.
"Okay… look, Big Guy, now really isn't a good time," Tony started, the sigh and exasperation audible in his tone. He wasn't totally sure who he was actually talking to here, but he supposed that speaking directly to the Other Guy couldn't hurt. "As much as I enjoy our quality time together, I need you to stay away for now, all right? We can chat about it later. Bruce, I really need you to fight this."
Tony took a step towards the other man, carefully lifting his arms to wrap Bruce's clenched fists in his fingers. His words probably weren't very soothing or helpful and he was sure that the touch wasn't either, but Tony needed to pull out all the stops here. His own insides felt like they were on the verge of boiling over, and he knew that he wouldn't be able to handle Bruce's doing the same.
The skin of Bruce's hands was taut and hot underneath Tony's touch, but that only made Tony grip tighter with the hope that the contact would help Bruce snap out of it. "Come on, Bruce, you're stronger than this," he said, but the fact that the man was on the edge of a Hulk-out given the current situation made him question that statement. "You can do this, bud, just focus. Focus on me, all right?"
For some part, it at least looked like Bruce was trying. His fists were still sealed shut like steel and he was still muttering unintelligibly, but the muttering was a good sign in Tony's book. Muttering meant he was still human enough to speak, until Tony recognized the tiny words as "I can't," repeated over and over like a broken record.
"You can." Tony said it on instinct just because it seemed right, but he yet again found himself with some doubts. "You can do this, babe. I need you to do this." A pause, and a tighter grip as Tony inched forward to press his forehead against Bruce's, feeling the heat scorch his skin. "I need you," he said softly, but with every bit on conviction he had left. "Pepper needs you. Come on."
Finally, those words seemed to break through Bruce's barrier, and slowly, painfully, he started to loosen. Tony could see the man's muscles physically retract back to a normal size, and if watching Bruce calm down from a near-incident wasn't so gross, Tony would have been intrigued. For now, though, he was just relieved when Bruce loosened the hands that were in his hair and lowered his arms, giving Tony the opportunity to properly hold his hands.
"I want to get out of here," the man panted, and the strain in his voice and breath made Tony almost wince in sympathy.
"Uh… okay," Tony replied, his gaze shooting around the empty room before it landed on Bruce again. "Like… out of the entire hospital? I mean, I want to go with you, buddy, but…" He didn't want to finish that sentence, because finishing it would mean acknowledging that Pepper was still in the operating room and they had no idea what was going on or if she was even okay. It probably wasn't the best idea to remind Bruce of that right now, and Tony could do without thinking about it, too.
"No," Bruce answered roughly, and Tony deflated. He didn't want to think about what was happening to Pepper, but that didn't mean he was ready to leave the hospital without her. "This room. I want to get out of this room, it's too small, and this is where it happened, and—"
"Okay." Tony could see that Bruce was starting to shake again, so he held the man's hands a little tighter and began to guide him out of the room. He had to agree that getting out of the room was for the better, just because the longer he was in there the more he could hear Pepper's screams echoing in his ears. "Let's go find somewhere to sit, and maybe get some coffee later or something. Hospital coffee tastes like shit, but I could probably go for some right now."
He continued babbling while they walked and eventually reached a place to sit and wait that wasn't too crowded. He draped an arm over Bruce's shoulders once they were about as comfortable as they were going to be, and once Bruce finally seemed to be calm enough with his thoughts to not need Tony's constant rambling as a distraction, he stopped.
They say there for quite some time, and for the second time in not too long, Tony was overwhelmed with sudden silence again. Silence meant that he didn't have anything to focus on but his own thoughts and anxieties, and even with Bruce' head resting warmly against his shoulder, he felt completely, devastatingly alone.
Pepper had always been the one who stood at his side, unwavering, whenever he was the one who needed saving (which, admittedly, happened much more often than the other way around). And even when he didn't, she was still there, the ever-present eye in the center of his constant hurricane, his rock, his ray of hope. Even after they'd broken up and Tony had fallen in love with Bruce—his other saving grace—she was still there next to him, holding him up. Tony may have been Iron Man, but it was likely that Pepper was more of a superhero than he could ever hope to be.
Without her, he felt naked. Stripped. Vulnerable.
Alone.
Clearly, though, he wasn't alone, as evidenced by Bruce pressed against his side. Bruce, the man who still loved him despite both of their flaws, and who probably loved Pepper in some of the same ways Tony did. What Bruce and Pepper had was different, but no less meaningful, and Tony felt something inside of him break yet again at the prospect of watching Bruce go through this alongside him.
"Tony?" Bruce must have noticed his unusual demeanor, but Tony was just glad to hear the man speaking steadily again after earlier.
"What?"
"You're looking a little pale there." Bruce lifted his head from Tony's shoulder, examining his boyfriend's admittedly slack and ghostlike expression. "And all this quiet is making me a little jumpy."
"Join the club," Tony mumbled. He wasn't sure if the 'quiet' Bruce was referring to was their own wordless company or the fact that they still hadn't gotten an update on Pepper or the baby, but he figured both were applicable. "But I guess no news is good news, right?"
"I guess," Bruce agreed half-heartedly. "Want to tell me what's going on in that big head of yours?"
Tony sighed, hesitant. Not really, he thought bitterly, but the insistence in Bruce's tone suggested that he was trying to return the favor from earlier. It was something he always did after Tony talked him down, probably because he felt guilty in his typical Bruce Banner fashion, but Tony had since learned the best thing to do was humor the man. So he spilled. "I just never pictured it like this," he admitted, weakly shrugging a shoulder. "The whole kid thing. I mean, I didn't picture it that much to begin with, since I'm really not the dad-type and we didn't think Pep could have them anyway. But still, I didn't think it would be like this." The side of his face burned where Bruce's eyes were glued to it, but Tony decided to avoid eye contact for the time being.
"How did you picture it?" Bruce asked gently, and the question as well as the tone made Tony very glad that he'd left his gaze on the floor. God, emotions were embarrassing.
"I dunno. Normal, I guess?" Tony tried to explain. "Like all that white picket fence suburban shit. You know, we'd be married, she'd get pregnant, be happy and glowing the whole time. I'd hold her hand in the delivery room while she probably yelled at me for something, then we'd have the perfect little chubby kid with the big eyes and the dimples and all that." He paused because his thoughts had gone a little too misty for him to gather, then shrugged again. "I also always thought we'd have a boy. Not that it matters. Girls are cool, too."
"They are," Bruce agreed, and if Tony had been looking, he would have seen the man try to smile. "Guess I threw a wrench into your imaginary plan, huh?" he added, clearly attempting to approach a joking tone but falling a few feet short.
"No." Tony knew Bruce didn't mean that, but he had to say it anyway. Bruce wasn't a wrench, or a distraction, or just an addition—he was just as much a part of this as him and Pepper were, and Tony almost felt sick at the idea that Bruce possibly thought that he wasn't. "No. It's not you. It's everything else." He inhaled a breath and licked his lips, dry from the stale hospital air, and tilted his head back to look at the ceiling. The fluorescent lights hurt his eyes, but it was easier to focus on the physical pain than the mental warfare going on inside him at the moment.
"I didn't think this would try to take her away from me." Tony finally said it, and the words stung like hell. "Away from us."
Bruce had set his hand on Tony's leg as the man spoke, and once those words left Tony's mouth, he noticed how tight Bruce's grip had become. He was fairly sure it might even leave a mark, and Tony suddenly regretted saying what he had.
"This isn't going to take her away from us," Bruce said firmly, seemingly refusing to let his voice waver again. "I won't let it."
"That's what I keep telling myself," Tony muttered, unable to help how hopeless his voice sounded. He briefly wondered what exactly Bruce meant by not letting anything happen, but when he really thought about it, he couldn't imagine that Bruce's methods of dealing with something happening to Pepper would be pleasing for anybody involved.
Tony inhaled another cleansing breath, and let it go as he dragged his eyes away from the blinding ceiling lights to look at Bruce. It was the first time he'd looked at his boyfriend in about an hour, probably, and he realized that Bruce's haggard expression and dark circles under his eyes was probably like looking in a mirror. "How did your lecture go?" he asked, since he'd really had enough emotions for the time being, and talking about them was only making the situation worse.
Bruce paused, then looked as if he were attempting a smile as he nodded sadly, getting the point. "Good," he answered simply. "I think they liked it. I had a chat with some of the people from the science department afterwards, they're looking for someone to teach an honors section of a biochem course in the spring." He paused again, contemplative, then shrugged. "I might take it."
"How's the pay?" Tony asked shallowly.
"I work for Stark Industries, and live with the CEO as well as the namesake, does NYU's pay bracket really matter?"
"Fair point." Tony had just been teasing anyway; he had enough money to last several lifetimes and then some, and planned on always supporting him no matter what, even if he didn't want or need it. "You should do it. It might be good for you."
"It'll get me out of your smelly lab, at least," Bruce joked, and Tony reached over to pinch his thigh. At the very least, it was refreshing to hear more than a concerned, monotone inflection in Bruce's voice, and to talk about something that might help bring their lives back to a somewhat normal routine. "It'll be interesting to see how students take to me," Bruce mused. "With… you know."
"I'm sure you'll get many questions about the other guy in your life. And I don't mean the Hulk." Tony winked, and Bruce rolled his eyes as he mouthed the word 'shallow' under his breath. "Professor Banner," Tony said, trying the words to see how they felt as he slumped back in his chair. "Hm. Can I call you that in bed?"
"I'll think about it."
Tony nearly continued on that note, but he stopped when he noticed Bruce's eyes dart to something behind him, and he turned around to find a young resident doctor standing there, looking tired yet hopeful.
"Ms. Potts is out of surgery," the young man said, but Tony held back any expression of relief until the doctor finished and he had all of the information. "She's still asleep, but you can see her if you'd like."
"Yeah," Tony said immediately, barely giving the doctor time to say anything more before he was standing up and grabbing Bruce's hand. "Yeah, I want to see her. What about the baby?"
"Dr. Montgomery is still in the OR with her," the doctor replied, and even his demeanor of carefully practiced calm wasn't enough to keep Tony's heart from sinking. "We'll continue giving you updates as they come."
Tony felt Bruce's hand begin to tremble just slightly within his own, so Tony squeezed firmly. Not the news he wanted to hear, but it was better than the alternative. He repeated that in his head like a mantra as they followed the resident through the maze of halls to Pepper's room, and Tony's nose stung against the smell of disinfectant until they pushed through a door and he was hit with a staggering amount of relief when he finally saw Pepper again.
She looked miles better than Tony had been expecting, although he didn't really know what he imagined walking into that room would be like. She was sleeping peacefully by the looks of things, though who knew what the hell kind of drugs they had her on to keep it that way, and there wasn't much more than a single needle taped to her arm that led to the IV bag hanging motionlessly at the side of the bed.
Sure, Pepper looked okay, but Tony still wished with everything he had that he didn't have to see her like this.
He walked closer and took a seat silently in the hard plastic chair beside the bed, lifting an arm with the intent to take her hand, but stopped himself short. She seemed so pale and so fragile, and as irrational as it was, Tony was almost afraid that if he touched her she might break.
"She should wake up soon." The doctor's words startled Tony back to the present, and by the way Bruce's hand twitched against his shoulder, he guessed that the other man was in the same position. "I'll give you three some privacy, but I'll be back a little later to take some more readings and check on the incision site. Dr. Montgomery will be in as soon as she's finished, and she can give you more details." The man exited the room them, leaving Tony and Bruce to their own devices. The room was quiet except for the sounds of each of them breathing and the thankfully steady blips of Pepper's heart monitor, and Tony found himself struggling to find something to say or do that would make this somehow less depressing.
"Well, this sucks." That was the only thing that came to mind, so Tony just said it, dryly and bluntly. The comment earned a snort out of Bruce, who then moved to unfold the other plastic chair in the corner of the room and drag it over to sit beside Tony.
"At least she looks okay," Bruce said, and if Tony wasn't so focused on watching every shallow rise and fall of Pepper's chest as she breathed, he probably would have commented on the glaringly obvious role-reversal as compared to earlier. Bruce sounded like he was trying very hard to remain optimistic, while Tony was left feeling utterly useless. "It could be worse. I'd just like to know what went on in there though, I mean, usually they don't knock people out for C-sections—"
"Bruce." Tony cut him off before he could go any further, and when he shook his head Bruce seemed to get the hint that the specifics of what happened when Pepper was behind those metal doors really weren't anything Tony wanted to think about right now. "Don't."
Bruce pressed his lips into a thin line and nodded silently. Some things were better left unsaid, and once Bruce set his arm warmly around Tony's shoulders, both of them let the silence swallow their words and resolved themselves to just wait.
Neither of them bothered keeping track of the time, but if Tony had he would have measured it by counting Pepper's steady breaths every second. At some point he'd decided that it seemed okay to take her hand, and he'd occupied himself by rubbing small circles over her knuckles until the door finally clicked open and disrupted his rhythm.
"How's everyone doing in here?" Dr. Montgomery asked, her voice gentle to minimize any disturbance her entry may have caused. Pepper didn't stir, so Tony just looked back at the doctor and shrugged indifferently.
"As well as can be expected." Bruce decided to speak for both of them when Tony didn't make an effort to form any words, and the doctor nodded understandingly as she walked over to Pepper's bedside and took a few readings. "How's the baby?"
"She's stable," Dr. Montgomery replied, and the steady tone of her voice as well as the actual words didn't do much to help Tony feel any better. Stable didn't necessarily mean good, but at least the news wasn't anything worse. "Her heart and lungs seem to be the problem areas, since as you know she's still a little underdeveloped for her age. I did what I could to fix them up, but we're going to keep a close eye on her for the next few days to see if she'll need anything else. It could have gone a lot worse, though. She's lucky, as is her mother." The woman offered a smile, and the gesture helped drain some of the tension in Tony's jaw and muscles. "I can give you a few minutes with her if you want," she added, looking encouragingly at Tony.
Tony finally lifted his head properly from Bruce's shoulder, and his eyes darted between the doctor, Bruce, and then Pepper while he contemplated the offer. He wanted to see his daughter, and it was probably the right thing to do at a time like this, but he couldn't shake the feeling that seeing that little girl when she was so weak and vulnerable would just make him feel worse. Seeing Pepper in that state was already becoming too much to handle; he didn't know if he could take much more.
But then he looked at Pepper again, and he knew that if she were awake she'd be telling him to go get his ass down there to see their baby and make sure for himself that she was fine. In fact, Pepper would probably be going herself, but that wasn't an option right now and the way Bruce was looking at him just proved Tony's point that he needed to do the right thing here.
"Okay," he said, setting Pepper's limp hand back down before he stood up. He briefly looked back at Bruce to silently ask if he was going to tag along, but after a beat of hesitation and a flash of what almost looked like fear across his features, the man mouthed 'I'll stay here'.
The walk from Pepper's room to the NICU was spent in silence after the doctor seemed to realize that Tony didn't seem up to talking, and even he felt strange in his own skin. It brought him back to the early days of Pepper's pregnancy when he'd kept his words and thoughts under wraps, and thinking about how it seemed to come full circle almost made Tony feel a little sick.
"I know it doesn't look like it, but she really is doing fine given the situation." Dr. Montgomery's words startled Tony out of his head, and he realized that he was suddenly standing in a room full of monitors and wires and tiny plastic cribs with even tinier babies inside them, and he felt his heart nearly stop when it dawned on him that the crib the doctor was blocking for the moment contained his own tiny baby. "I can't let you hold her yet, but you can sit with her for a little while."
She moved out of the way then, giving Tony access to the crib and the chair in front of it. He didn't look for a second, afraid of what he might see, but once he was sure that the doctor was far enough away he finally set his eyes on the crib's tiny, fragile occupant.
The vast amount of tubes and wires seemed to take up more of the crib's space than the small human inside of it did, but it took Tony less than a second to see past the monitors and the bandages and find himself completely infatuated with the presence of his real living, breathing daughter in front of him. She was small, too small, frail, and not at all how he'd pictured her; but she was beautiful, and most of all, she was his.
"Pretty," Tony murmured, lowering himself into the chair before the crib. "Just like your mom." Of course there wasn't any telling at this stage who she looked like, but even though Tony would never admit it to either of his partners, he'd been hoping that his daughter would resemble Pepper more than him. The little tuft of what looked to be lighter-colored hair on the top of the little girl's head was a start, at least. "Tough like her too, probably."
Tony exhaled a long breath and hung his head down for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts into something sensible since they'd decided to run haywire on their own ever since he'd gotten here. Honestly, he didn't know what he was feeling—he was happy but he wasn't, he was relieved yet still terrified. The only thing saving him here was the knowledge that the fragile life in front of him was too new to understand the weight and the pain upon her father's shoulders.
"Look, kid, we need to have a chat," Tony started, almost feeling silly for talking to someone who couldn't understand a word or even a noise, but he continued anyway. "You've gotta pull out all the stops and pull through this, all right? Your mom and me and your other dad really need you to be fine. Too much stuff happened before you were born for you to not be fine, and there's so much stuff you have to see, and you've gotta give it a chance."
He hesitated then, eyes flicking between his hand and his daughter. After a moment of contemplation he carefully reached out and ever so lightly touched the little girl's arm, the tip of his finger about the size of her entire hand. "You've gotta give me a chance to be your dad, okay?" he said quietly, barely above a murmur. "I didn't have a bunch of great people growing up like you do. My dad was pretty shitty—crappy—I mean, awful… you know what, you can't even understand me… yeah, he was shitty. Really not a stand-up guy, let me tell you. I might not be the greatest option either, but I at least want to try." He gently stroked her arm, and when he reached her hand, the little girl wrapped her puny fingers around Tony's much larger one and seemed to hold on with all the strength she had. It wasn't much, but all it took was that one, feather-light squeeze for Tony to know that he was completely smitten already. "Is that a yes?" he asked, a smile curling the corners of his lips, and it widened when the baby girl squeezed again. "Okay. Good. Glad we cleared that up."
He stopped talking then, because for some reason the silence actually felt comfortable for the first time that day. Somehow, despite the situation at hand and how imperfect every bit of it was, the grip his daughter had on his finger brought Tony back to a place of contentment, hope, optimism—a place he hadn't been in far too long, and he questioned how only a few minutes with that baby girl were enough to turn his insides to sap.
Eventually, though, a nurse came by and told him he had to leave and let the baby rest, and as much as he wanted to stay for every waking moment after this, Tony complied. He left the room with the image of his daughter etched clearly into the backs of his eyelids so he saw her every time he blinked, and when he finally made his way back to Pepper's room his relief was only heightened when he saw that she was awake.
"Did you see her?" It was the first question out of Pepper's mouth as soon as Tony sat down, barely giving him a chance to absorb the fact that she was awake and alive and still beautiful despite the pale skin and bags under her eyes, but Tony didn't mind.
"Yeah," he answered simply, a little surprised himself at just how calm and relaxed his voice sounded to his own ears.
"What's she like?"
Both Pepper and Bruce were staring at him expectantly, their eyes halfway between curious and terrified. Tony just smiled, the action feeling easier than it had in weeks, and reached out to take Pepper's hand firmly in his own.
"She's perfect."