I'm sorry this one is coming out later than usual in the evening. My laptop has been fighting Windows updates for the last…4 hours? Something like that. Pleh.
As a reminder, I'm off the next 2 weeks in a row. I have a convention to run! Also a performance to give (which includes a parody of "My Way" but about Tony Stark). So it's going to be awesome and exhausting and probably the most fun I've had since long before the pandemic. Yay!
This chapter ran a little short, but I think it's what it needed to be. That's what I'm telling my weird perfectionism when it comes to chapter length, anyway. I hope you agree.
The song for this one is "Somewhere North" by Caedmon's Call. It's not a band I listen to (being kind of philosophically opposites), but this song is really good and sweet.
See you in three weeks! Keep the lights on for me!
Enjoy!
Chapter 13: Candid Photograph
Apparently the Avengers and assorted hangers-on were doing a Christmas Day brunch for those with nowhere better to be, or orders to stay clear of families on holidays since that was a SHIELD thing. Tony could understand it from a security perspective, but it also made him wary as he looked at Romanoff, Barton, Hill, and even maybe Steve Rogers gathered around his big table. How many of them were thinking they would rather be elsewhere?
On the other hand, he could hardly blame them. There was someplace he kind of wanted to be instead, too.
Pepper had said before that pulling the people you love close and having them all together was normal, and Tony was really grateful she'd said it or he would be a lot more concerned that he was getting too attached. But, damnit, seeing Pepper and May laugh like old friends, even hug, seeing Peter grin up at Pepper and the genuine light in her eyes as she interacted with him, it made something in his chest shine.
Lacking only Rhodey, that was everyone he cherished in the world right there. And JARVIS and the bots. And Happy on a good day, of course. Maybe Bruce a little.
If he could see them smiling like they were last night for the rest of his life, easy and carefree, safe, provided for, no danger on the horizon or in the sky, no fear of tomorrow, Tony knew he would experience true happiness for the first time.
It wasn't that he didn't like Rogers and the SHIELD agents and Thor, but they were more like colleagues. He could work with them, joke with them, watch their backs and let them watch his, but it was different.
Pepper would say he hadn't shown them his heart. Pepper would be right.
Anyway, Avengers Christmas brunch was turning out to be a lot like Avengers every-other-visit, with joking, some kind of competition — today it was who had brought the best cookies; Tony didn't know that was even the plan and so was at peace with having not participated — and a lot of loudness in spurts.
Also, evidently there had been a Secret Santa thing going on. Tony didn't remember being told about that, either, but Pepper, being Pepper, had covered for him. So as presents were exchanged, he found himself with a red box bearing a white bow intended for Maria Hill.
She gave him a knowing smirk when he handed it over. "There's no way you picked this yourself."
He made a jaunty wink at her. "That's how you know you'll like it."
"That is a fair argument. Point taken." She tore into it and gave an appreciative nod. "Very high quality, exactly what I would pick for myself. Nice."
"You're welcome."
"Thanks, Pepper," Maria called across the room.
Tony shrugged at the laughter. "Like any of you know what to get someone as sophisticated and terrifying as Hill," he said.
His buddy turned out to be Clint Barton. The box was wrapped a little unevenly, and whatever was inside had some heft when it shifted.
"If this thing blows up in confetti, you're cleaning it up," Tony warned.
Clint shrugged. "Would I really do that to you?"
"Uh, yeah."
"Okay, fair."
Tony opened it gingerly, but it did not explode. Instead, he found a huge bag of coffee beans — a specific kind you had to special order to get in the US — whose rough, homespun packaging looked as though it had been carried out of its native land under somebody's armpit. Which, given Barton, it probably had. But there was also a white coffee mug with what looked like a nutritional facts blurb on it.
Except it was nutritional "facts" about dads.
Including entries like "Unconditional Love, 1000%," "Unrivaled Skill, 500%," and "Wrong Answers, 0%." Tony could tell this one was custom printed because the bottom entry was, "Kickass World Saving, 1 And Counting."
"Excuse you," Tony said, trying to fight his grin. "I have saved the world more than once."
Barton just gave a little salute.
Then Rhodey leaned over. "I notice you're neither denying, nor freaking out about the 'dad' thing, Tony. Something you want to tell me?"
"Yeah, that it's a good thing we missed you yesterday or I'd have to explain to Peter why I killed Tony Stark's supposed best friend," he shot back.
But Rhodey just smiled. "Still not denying it."
Before that got out of hand, Bruce opened his gift from Steve and thanked him loudly and at length for the scientific texts, and Steve played along until people's focus changed.
Tony vowed to make sure the mug never made it to Queens, or anywhere Peter might see it, just in case. But was he going to use it? Absolutely he was.
Everybody got distracted by the frankly overwhelming weapons kit Pepper gave Natasha, so Tony wandered over to Steve who was staring at the sketch pad and paints Nat had given him. That wasn't something he'd seen coming.
"Didn't take you for an artist," he said.
"I'm not much of one." Steve shrugged. "But I always liked to draw. This is a lot. More than I could have dreamed of as a kid."
Tony frowned. Living in proximity to May and Peter had shown him a lot about how people who weren't multi-billionaires lived. He decided to change the subject before the guy went back down his understandably deep rabbit hole into the past.
"We'll have to add that to the museum about you. Bit of trivia about Captain America and his secret origins as an artist."
Steve wrinkled his nose. "I still can't believe there's a literal museum about me."
"Uh, yeah. Kind of a national icon, war hero, you know." Tony sniffed. "Dad and Aunt Peggy didn't want you to be forgotten."
"I didn't know you knew Peggy Carter." Steve was staring at him.
Tony let himself relax — he'd much rather talk about her than his father. "Yeah. She's my godmother. She was always a busy person, but she tried to make time for me when she could. She taught me how to shoot my first pistol."
She had also taught him how to look people in the eye when they were underestimating him. She and Jarvis together had taught him to ride a bike. She had looked at his projects and attempts at inventions and praised him unconditionally. She had hugged him when Jarvis died and stayed with him for a week. She had held his hand at his parents' funeral.
Steve chuckled. "I'm not surprised. She...she always was a damn fine lady."
Tony hadn't been too old when he figured out why Aunt Peggy got a particular look on her face when she was telling stories about Steve Rogers. And from the look on Steve's face now, he understood there was more to it than something one-sided. He was just as glad nobody else had made that connection. Aunt Peggy was a professionally private person, and if anyone had decided to highlight their relationship (or lack of a chance to have one) in the many biopics and straight-up fictionalized movies, she might have rampaged through Hollywood. Which would have been entertaining to watch, but still.
"Have you seen her?" Tony asked. "Since you've been defrosted?"
Steve nodded. "Fury told me. I try to see her whenever I'm in DC. I'd be with her now, but…"
"Yeah, I get it. SHIELD thing, right?" Tony thought that was probably an easier excuse than the fact that he knew Aunt Peggy would be surrounded by her kids and grandkids today. He hoped she was having a good day for them.
"Sure," Steve said.
Tony could tell just from his face that Steve had already been through one of Aunt Peggy's bad days when her Alzheimer's had gotten the better of her and her eyes slid over people instead of recognizing them. It hurt to be forgotten, he knew that first hand.
It hurt a lot more when Aunt Peggy looked at him and saw Howard instead. He knew it was wrong of him to avoid visiting her because of it, but he just couldn't take that most of the time. He'd make a trip every four or six months, but that was all he could stand.
At least he'd had a lifetime with Aunt Peggy. Steve didn't even have that.
"Hey," he said. "Maybe bring her something you drew next time you go say hi. She'd like that. She kept every one of my wiring diagrams from when I was a kid, and they were awful."
Steve huffed a laugh. "You drew wiring diagrams?"
"Well, yeah. What, you think I sat around drawing horses with too many legs or lopsided houses? Please."
"I guess I'm not surprised," Steve said. "You really think she'd like a drawing?"
"I think she will love anything you draw because it'll come from you." Tony clapped a hand on his shoulder. "If you ever want to stop by on short notice, just text JARVIS. He'll set it up. There's no reason for you to keep pining for each other these days."
Steve's face went a little red and he nodded. "Thanks, Tony. I'll...I'll take you up on that."
Tony smiled. He'd skipped the Secret Santa stuff, but this was better than giving somebody a box of stuff.
(Not counting his mug from Barton, obviously.)
After everyone else finished with their gifts, the group settled into a pool tournament. Tony didn't bother to participate because he hated losing at a game of angles and physics, and his brain's ability to compute the solution never did seem to compensate for other people's blind luck or weirdly intuitive trick shots. But he was happy to try to distract Rhodey until he lost horribly to Steve.
By then it was mid-afternoon and Tony found himself looking at his watch.
"Tony." Pepper's voice was soft as she slipped an arm around his waist. "It's okay. You can go."
"It's Christmas," he said.
Pepper raised her eyebrows. "Exactly."
"I haven't given you your present yet."
"I thought we weren't doing presents," she said, shaking her head. "I didn't really get you anything."
"You gave me yesterday," Tony said. "More than gift enough. I had to return the favor."
"Oh dear." She feigned trepidation. "It's not another huge rabbit, right? I'm fairly certain I'd have seen it if you tried to bring it in here."
Tony chuckled and shook his head. "No. JARVIS, go ahead."
"Of course. Miss Potts, if you would consult your phone, you will find Sir's gift in your email."
Pepper pulled her phone from inside her blazer without untangling herself from his side. She navigated to her email to read the new message.
"Oh, Tony." Her eyes got wide. "How...why…?"
"It's not a huge house, okay," he said quickly. "Downright modest. But it's way out of the city in upstate, about equidistant to the site SHIELD is setting up for us at the old Stark facility. It's got a lake and a fire pit and there's a ranch nearby with horses for riding in the woods."
Pepper's eyes were glued to the screen as she flipped through the pictures of the spacious interior.
"You gave me this year, Pep. You let me walk away and hide, and it's been one of the best years of my life," he said quietly. "And I realized that you don't have the chance to do the same. There's nowhere for you to go that you can stop being Pepper Potts and just be somebody tending a garden or sitting on a deck or, I don't know, fishing."
"Fishing, really?" she asked, and there was emotion and weight in her voice.
"Whatever, I'm not judging." He drew her in close without making her look away from the thirty or so pictures JARVIS had sent. "You needed space this year, but you never really got away. And you deserve better than to be stuck in this tower. So...I made you a…"
"You made me a miracle," Pepper said. She blinked. "Is this because you watched Miracle on 34th Street with Peter and May?"
"Um, no?" And even Tony knew that wasn't convincing.
She shook her head, smiling.
"Anyway. It's yours, one-hundred percent," Tony said. "I hope...I hope you'll use it."
"Tony." Pepper tucked her phone away so she could put both arms around him. "I love it." She kissed him soundly. "I love it so much."
Tony held her tightly. "Merry Christmas, Pep."
"Merry Christmas, Tony." She kissed him again. "Now, go see May and Peter. Oh, and Tony?"
She stepped back and he had learned to be cautious when she got that glint in her eye. "Uh oh."
"You better tell Peter who you are soon, because I'm not waiting another year to see them again. And don't you think Peter would enjoy visiting a house on a lake, too?"
Oh I am in so deep now, Tony thought. But he gave her a salute. "I'm not doing it today. But...soon. I promise."
"Good. Now get out of here."
And that is exactly what he did — waving at the assembled group and otherwise ignoring their teasing for abandoning them. Whatever. He had another Christmas party to attend.
Maybe...maybe next year, we'll celebrate together. And the thought was both warm and terrifying.
But Tony pushed any and all ideas about telling Peter his identity away, and by the time he got to Queens and ducked into his own apartment to change before heading up to the seventh floor, he was fully Tony Carbonell once more. Complete with a single gift in his back pocket he hadn't wanted to leave with the rest under the tree.
He tapped at the door. "Hey, Parkers. Got room for an interloper?"
May opened the door. "Hi Tony. Come on in. Maybe you can finally talk sense into him."
"Talk sense into who? Peter?" Tony blinked. Peter sat on the couch reading a book, still wearing his pajamas. Actually, May was in pajamas, too. "PJs on Christmas? And you didn't tell me?"
"As if you would ever wear PJs with us," May said.
Tony waggled his eyebrows. "Just for that, I'll show you." And he promptly turned and walked out the door, went back down to his apartment — oh my god seven flights of stairs, you are the absolute bane of my existence — and put on the set of matched pajamas that Rhodey had given him as a gag gift last year emblazoned with fake computer code. Really bad fake computer code. Complete with slippers that looked like the aliens from Space Invaders, he returned.
May was laughing even as she apologized. "You didn't have to go change your clothes."
"Apparently I did. Now, why is Peter being unreasonable?"
"I wasn't!" Peter replied, scrunching up his nose. "I just thought it was rude to open presents without you because you got us so many. I opened May's presents, but I wouldn't let her open yours until you got here, either."
"You see, it's totally unnatural," May said. "Imagine a kid sitting there with unopened presents on Christmas." She shook her head. "What is the world coming to?"
Tony grinned. "Patience, apparently. Well, since you've been waiting, let's get to it."
The gifts he'd had delivered were nothing extraordinary — that had been the outing the day before. Instead, they were simple things. For May, a few sweaters that were warm and soft but also stylish enough for her taste, a new toaster (she laughed), a monthly subscription to a massage parlor, and a basket of soaps and perfumes and lotions from Pepper. For Peter, there were more science books, of course, a starter book for learning Italian, a couple of Lego sets, a few components to add to the computer they had constructed in August, and a (custom-made) Iron Man hoodie.
Peter eyed the updated graphics card for the computer. "Is it okay if I install it right away?"
"Knock yourself out, kid," Tony said. "Might as well put it to use."
Peter grinned and dashed off to his room. Which also provided an opening for the last gift Tony had shoved in the impractical pocket of his pajama pants.
"May, this isn't...I know you don't need it, but, just...here." He drew out the envelope.
May eyed him with suspicion, then opened it. She frowned at the two bank statements. Then her eyes went wide. "Oh my god, Tony."
"Let me explain. The first one is just...you're not paying rent here anymore. Okay? I own the building. I'm not taking it from you. So this is the last six months you paid with interest. If you want to keep depositing rent, you can, but I'm just going to turn around and put it in this account. Use it for whatever you want."
May shook her head, but clearly she was a lot less bothered by that than the second piece of paper. "Tony…"
"He deserves to go to whatever college he wants. For as long as he wants." Tony shrugged. "If he decides to get three degrees, I want him to have options. I want him to have time. So this is just...a fund for that. For tuition, living expenses, books, supplies. Anything he could ever need. So he can have whatever experience he wants."
"What if he wants to become a mechanic, or take a trip around the world?" May asked.
"Then he'll have the best equipped shop on the planet or the best vacation anyone ever dreamed about," Tony said. "There's no strings. But we both know he's going to college. So I wanted to be ready. And then you...you don't have to worry."
May peered at him. "This isn't about Peter. You're…"
"You work so hard, May," Tony said. "And I know you love it. But I don't want you to have to work that hard if you don't want to. I don't want you to pick up extra shifts to make sure you're putting enough away to send Peter to college. You don't...if I had my way, you'd never think about money again. But we're not there. So...I can do this."
He really hoped May would accept it. Honestly, given enough time, he fully intended to take care of May and Peter as he did everyone else. He had enough money for a thousand lifetimes of wealth — he could literally never use it all. But he could give it to them to make their lives easy and carefree, and someday he would wear May down enough to let him do so. It wasn't about pride, his or hers, and it wasn't about not respecting her choice to work. She could live in his Tower living like a millionaire and work as a nurse at all hours if it made her happy. But he never wanted a shadow of fear about financial insecurity to even cross her mind ever again, or Peter's.
Financial difficulty had brought them to this building, and that was a blessing. And it would be the last time either of them ever had to face it.
And that was before any decisions about...well. Those thoughts weren't fully baked yet, and he wasn't ready for them.
May shook her head. "I...I should say no. I should give it back. But I won't. And you know why?"
Tony let out a breath of relief. "Why?"
"Because you aren't doing this out of charity. Or guilt. Or even a sense of obligation." She held his eyes. "You are doing this because it's how you show love."
Tony swallowed and sniffed. "Big 'l' word there, May."
"And you're also an idiot," May said, smiling. "But I won't refuse your way of showing you care, because I want you to know that I understand. And I love you too, Tony."
He cleared his throat. "I'm...going to go help Peter with his computer. Where we're not using that word."
"Oh, you better not," May said lightly.
"Huh?"
"He lied. Peter's not doing anything with the computer. He's wrapping your gift." She gave a smug smile. "He told me this morning he waited to wrap it because he wanted to steal the best paper-and-bow combination off one of the presents you gave us. I've just been buying time for him, really."
"Oh my god, you two are conspiring now. This is a disaster." But Tony was smiling. "Did you like your gift from him, by the way?"
May grinned. She reached into her shirt and withdrew the necklace she had yet to take off.
Tony had helped Peter design a locket for May that was big enough to hold a picture of Ben in one half and baby Peter with Mary and Richard in the other. Peter had asked Tony if he knew anyone who would make it, and Tony had offered to do it himself.
Peter didn't know that Tony did it out of a white-gold titanium alloy not unlike his suits so that the locket and the chain would be virtually indestructible, just that it came out silvery and beautiful. Peter himself had selected the pictures and cut them perfectly to fit.
"Thank you for your part in it," she said.
"Hey, I was just the fabrication unit on that," he said. "The idea and design and everything was all Peter."
"I love it. I will wear it for the rest of my life." May's vow was utterly serious. "Except in the shower."
"Yeah, it's pretty tightly sealed, but it isn't technically water-proof. Not that it would hurt the metal any, but you'd lose the pictures." Tony heard Peter coming and looked up. "Hey, Underoos?"
Peter held something behind his back. "Yes?"
"You did not need to get anything for me, kid." Tony tried to glare at him. "Christmas is for adults to spoil kids."
Peter shook his head, his wild hair fluffing in every direction. "No. It's to tell people you love them and to make them happy."
"There's that 'l' word again," Tony muttered and May laughed.
"Anyway, it isn't perfect, but I made it for you," Peter said. He pulled out a box that had been wrapped in the sparkliest of the papers from Tony's gifts, topped with a huge red bow. "I hope you like it."
"Aw, kid." Tony rose to meet him halfway. "It comes from you, so that's more than enough for me."
He opened it slowly, partially to savor the moment and partially to watch Peter squirm with anticipation. Under the paper he found a cardboard box that Peter had repurposed from building his computer.
"Well, that's not what I was expecting," Tony teased.
"Mister Carbonell!" Peter's exasperation was hilarious.
Tony didn't know why there was a flutter in his gut as he opened the box slowly.
Inside was a metal picture frame. The picture was one Tony didn't recognize, but he could tell from the angle that it probably came from JARVIS. He glanced up at May who gave him a thumbs-up. Then he realized that the frame was not something out of any store. And there was writing on it amidst the decorations of tiny nuts and bolts carefully soldered on.
Above the picture, it said, "You're really nuts."
Below it finished, "Bolt at least we're together!"
The picture itself was one of Peter and Tony in the workshop laughing at each other. There was grease on their faces, and their hair stuck up almost identically. Tony had an arm flung around the kid and Peter was still holding the screwdriver from successfully completing whatever they had been working on at the time.
Tony's heart invaded his throat.
"Do...you like it, Mister Carbonell?" Peter asked, shifting back and forth nervously. "I had to buy a metal frame and they're not easy to find because everything's plastic, but I found one at a thrift store. And then I soldered stuff on. Not in the workshop. But remember when you let me bring the smaller kit up here to fix something? That's when. It's…"
Tony wrapped his arms around the kid and crushed him to his chest. "It's perfect, Peter. Thank you."
Peter returned the hug. "You're welcome."
"Although." And Tony drew back, trying to maintain a straight face and aware that he was failing. "That's the last time I let you make such a cashewal excuse to borrow equipment."
Peter's dramatic groan, and May's, were well worth the pain of the pun.
