AN: Wow! The absolute outpouring of support for this work is completely incredible! I never expected it, really, I hope I continue to do you justice. Thank you so much for the favorites, follows, and reviews. To Nightwing5, thanks for thinking it's better than cheese. I mean, better than CHEESE? Are you kidding, that's like, so hard to do! To Me and Not You 1001, it's totally fine if Psych and Criminal Minds aren't your thing! You aren't obligated to read my stuff (and that fic is really dark anyway, and not my best lol). Thank you for liking this one though!

This chapter is pretty long because I feel like not a lot happens in it, but we do get a lot more of Tony and some Pepper, so I hope you like my fanons of how these guys would react to Tiny Tony! Please, send it requests! Seriously, I love writing this, but a girl only has so many ideas!

Tony was not happy about being woken up. He acted much like his normal self, blinking blearily and looking around but not really taking anything in, except for the fact that he reached out his casted hand for someone to take and kept the other thumb securely in his mouth. Clint was the one who took his hand, and after looking around for a few minutes while the others made light talk, he looked up at his archer friend, popping his thumb out of his mouth.

"Why are we at the toy store?" His voice was gravelly from sleep and his curly hair was rumpled. They were getting a lot of strange looks from mothers, presumably because of how Tony was dressed; he still didn't have shoes on; Steve couldn't help but blush at the indecency of how they must look. Clint beamed down at the boy.

"We're here for you, Mister Stark." Tony frowned, his nose scrunching up slightly, his brain still not fully awake.

"You took my credit card?" Clint snorted.

"Of course."

"Oh," was all Tony said before popping his thumb back in his mouth and moving a little closer to Clint's legs, looking up at the crowd of carts and people. He didn't like feeling so small. It felt dangerous. He tugged Steve closer to the other side of him, making sure Thor and Bruce were also close, and looked at the toys and clothes with little interest. Bruce sighed.

"We're here because you're going to need something to entertain you, Tony."

"Oh," Tony responded again, blinking a few times before perking again. "You mean toys?" Thor beamed and Bruce nodded. Tony nearly glowed with excitement, before suddenly remembering he was not actually a child. He shouldn't be this excited simply because of some little plastic toys. He deflated slightly. "I don't need them. C'mon Bruce, you think some kiddie toys can entertain the great Tony Stark?" Bruce frowned; Clint knelt down, whispering something in Tony's ear that made the boy light up, quirk his head, and drag them through the store. Bruce and Steve shared a look before they followed. They found Clint laughing and Tony snickering.

"Bruce, look!" Tony smirked as he held up a soft toy that was distinctly green. Bruce looked mortified. "A Hulk plush! I didn't know they even made things like this, it's incredible." He glanced around, picking something else up and laughing louder. "Steve!" It was a plastic replica of Captain America's shield, and Tony found it hilarious. Steve didn't know whether to be flattered or embarrassed at the paraphernalia, so he settled for blushing and crossing his arms. Tony smirked down at the two toys, taking in his friends' faces, and grinned. "I'm definitely getting them." Bruce looked torn between snatching the Hulk away and hiding his face in mortification. Thor was chuckling heartily.

Bruce was unable to talk Tony out of getting the plush Hulk, and Steve didn't even bother to try. Clint demanded Tony get a Nerf bow and arrows so Clint could teach him how to shoot, and, albeit begrudgingly, the boy obliged. Since he was already getting those, he threw caution to the wind and got a plastic Mjolnir (which Thor was highly amused by) and fake Widow Bites (which Tony planned to enhance as soon as he could) as well. Bruce wasn't particularly happy with his selection, but he couldn't say he was upset that Clint had convinced the genius to get some toys.

Clothes were harder, especially with the glares the mothers were giving them. Tony found it funny, snickering "They think one of you is the worst dad ever." Somehow they managed to talk the young billionaire out of buying a complete kid-sized suit by getting him collared shirts, vests, and some small band tees. They also managed to convince him to get shoes more sensible than dress shoes, despite a lot of grumbling and scowling.

Upon heading to the restroom to change into his new clothes, Tony was frustrated to find that his fingers were clumsier than usual. He felt like he had been adjusting well, but inside he was screaming, alarms ringing wildly. He was scared and his chest still hurt like an elephant had sat on it. The sizes and perspectives of things were all wrong and it made him dizzy. Not to mention the fact that now everyone was treating him like an actual child - talking down to him, babying him. He desperately wanted to be home with Pepper where things could resume some semblance of normal. It took a couple steadying breaths for him to feel calm enough to emerge from the restroom, grabbing his plush Hulk from Clint and smirking again at the look on Bruce's face.

At least Clint wasn't treating him any different. Bruce was nagging, which wasn't unusual, but was also even more cautious than he usually was, and Tony didn't like it. Steve kept staring at him like he was broken glass and needed to watch his step. Thor didn't necessarily act different, but he kept calling him 'young friend' or 'small Stark,' and yeah, Tony didn't really need a reminder that he was small, he could see that himself, thanks, and maybe, Thor, you're just a goddamn giant, because that's what you look like from down here.

He also quickly learned that keeping up with the others, which was a challenge on a good day owing to the fact that he was shorter than them anyway, was infinitely harder in child size. His legs hurt and the pain from his arc reactor made him want to cry, but he just held the Hulk tightly and snarkily asked why the hell they hadn't called a taxi. Clint said something about crying because of a little exercise and Tony felt his trademark glare find its way to his face, and started to feel more like himself again. So Clint was helping. The Bird Brain could be useful. Other than, you know, covering their asses in battle like no one's business. But honestly, he was practically running to keep up with the two blond menaces, and he was sick of being babied by Bruce, and he knew they all knew this, so where was the taxi?

But it was Clint who scooped him up and placed him on his hip, grinning like a maniac. Tony scowled. "Let me down."

"No can do, Small Fry."

"Barton, I swear to God."

"What? I have to get in my upper body exercises." Tony groaned, though, to be honest, he didn't really want to be put down. He felt more comfortable like this - he was closer to his normal height and things weren't so scary like that, and his legs weren't hurting anymore. He glared at Clint a bit more just for good measure before relaxing into the archer, putting his head on his shoulder.

"If you drop me I'll kill you."

"Looking forward to it."

Tony was completely mortified by the time they got back to the tower. The amount of people who told Clint "What a smart little boy you have!" was absolutely embarrassing. The only saving grace was that Clint seemed to feel about as awkward as he did, so he tolerated it, for the sake of his legs not being sore tomorrow. Yeah, it totally wasn't because he felt safer like this. That would really be embarrassing.

He squirmed out of Clint's grip as soon as they were in the lobby, and stalked to the elevator, taking way more joy than he should have in pressing the button and watching the numbers above the elevator change. He could hear the others chatting lightly behind him, probably about him, but he couldn't really bother to care what they were saying. Despite knowing she was at work, he couldn't help but hope that Pepper was home and he would be able to relax with her.

Instead, the first person he saw when the elevator opened was Natasha, which excited him far more than it should have. He ran over to her and she gave him an indulgent smile, which he responded to with a smirk, holding up his Hulk. "Natasha! Look what they had at the toy store." Natasha took a moment to take in the sight of little Tony, dressed up smartly and holding out a stuffed Hulk, before bursting into laughter, for a very different reason than Tony thought.

"They make things like that?" she finally asked, watching as the smirk morphed into a trademark Stark grin.

"They also had your Widow Bites. I'm going to improve them as soon as I get the chance, just as a challenge. Plastic is not an ideal material but I don't think you guys are going to let me near a welder."

"You would be right about that." Tony froze, blinked, and spun around, beaming widely.

"Pepper!" He almost wanted to laugh. It was strange to him now, how strong emotions were and how quickly they changed, and it was a bit scary. Pepper was smiling at him, shaking her head, her hands on her hips.

"Look what you've done this time, Tony," she teased, and he chuckled as he walked over.

"Aren't you supposed to be running my company, Miss Potts?"

"Well, the best way to take care of a company is to take care of the boss, Mister Stark." She laughed lightly and he felt his happiness grow, feeling more like normal. Pepper knelt to his height and fixed his vest. "Not wearing Gucci?" He faked a scowl.

"Steve wouldn't let me. He doesn't know fashion when he sees it." Behind him Rogers snorted. A small frown worked its way onto his face. "But really, I thought you had meetings all day today."

"I did," Pepper responded with a smirk. "I finished them." Tony rolled his eyes, grinning.

"How would I live without you?"

"You wouldn't."

"At least tell me you give yourself good bonuses."

"Very good. In fact, the other day you bought me a new car." Tony burst into laughter, leaning over to kiss Pepper on the cheek - he wasn't sure what her reaction would be to getting kissed by a five year old, but for now she didn't seem to mind his new situation. He was glad for that. It had been a serious fear that she would leave him, although why she would leave him now after everything he couldn't fathom. Pepper plucked the Hulk from his hand and examined it, eyeing him teasingly.

"Are you sure the tag isn't a choking hazard?" He heard Clint burst into laughter behind him as he rolled his eyes and shoved her arm, shaking his head.

"You're a demon. Demon woman." She stood and he took her hand as she offered it.

"So you've said. Let's get some food in you - I know you didn't eat last night, and you probably didn't eat breakfast either." She glanced at him. "That, by the way, will have to stop for the time being. Smaller bodies need more food." He grumbled good-naturedly, and tried not to dwell on the situation. It seemed a lot of changes were being made that he didn't have control over, which scared him. Not to mention the dangers of a tiny superhero billionaire; how many times had he been kidnapped when he was actually young? How many times had he been kidnapped since he'd become a billionaire? How many times had he been kidnapped since he'd become a superhero?

"Pizza?" he asked instead, glancing over at her again.

"Already ordered it," Natasha called, smirking at her when he looked over. He grinned.

"You're a godsend, Romanoff."

"Better remember it, Stark."

He and Pepper plopped down on the couch in the living room as the others claimed their own seats, and he was pleasantly happy to discover he fit perfect underneath Pepper's arm. She toyed with his curls, rubbing circles in his scalp as the others talked about something-or-another; he couldn't bother to add anything, for once. He didn't really trust his voice. He was content to simply sit and be surrounded by their voices and feel a little less scared. After all, his friends - he could call them friends at this point, couldn't he? - wouldn't let anything happen to him. They would look after him.

It was only five minutes later that JARVIS announced pleasantly that the delivery man was in the lobby, and Tony's groan of "Pizza…" elicited laughter as Bruce left to fetch them. It was thirty minutes after that when the pizza was entirely gone and they were bantering together, and Tony felt his eyes falling shut. It was an altogether alarming feeling, to be so at ease, hearing laughing voices around him and leaning into Pepper's gentle touch.

"Alright," he hear Pepper say close to his ear, jarring him awake and drawing attention to them. "Bedtime for geniuses." He took in his friends' smirking faces and looked at Bruce.

"She means you," he said snarkily, eliciting laughter as Bruce stuck out his tongue in protest.

"I mean you," Pepper admonished, but there was a laugh on her voice. Tony rolled his eyes, rubbing his chest in an effort to alleviate even a bit of the burning pain the arc reactor was now causing. "Bothering you again?" He nodded as she stood, offering a hand to him. "Come on then. Let's go take care of you." She gave a cheeky smile and he rolled his eyes again.

"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself." And that was apparently incredibly funny, as all his friends burst into laughter.

"JARVIS, how often has Tony hidden injuries?" Bruce asked with a small smile, and Tony glared at him.

"Including illnesses, Dr. Banner?"

"Traitor!" Tony shouted, glaring at a camera that was hidden (but he knew where all of them were). Clint fell off his chair laughing. Pepper just grinned and held her hand out more insistently, getting a sigh in response as he hopped off the couch and took it, tucking the Hulk under his casted arm.

"The doctors said you can give him some Motrin," Steve called, and Tony made a face while Pepper saluted. He didn't have the energy to question why they were headed down the hallway instead of going to the elevator which would lead up to his suite. He simply followed after Pepper obediently, rubbing his eyes tiredly and ignoring the pain in his chest.

It was an honest surprise when she led him to one of the guest bedrooms, which had been altered beyond its usually sparse furnishings. The beige walls were covered in blueprints, calming pictures, and - Oh my God, he thought - Avengers posters, mostly Iron Man. The twin bed (he was sure he had put queen beds in all the guest rooms, it must have been changed) was covered in red sheets and an Iron Man comforter which brought him far more satisfaction than it probably should have. He always was an egotistical bastard. The small desk had been replaced with a miniature workshop table, supplies, and tools, and he lit up at the prospect of still being able to do some of his work. On the dresser across from the bed was a large television and a stack of Disney movies - dear lord, he loved Disney.

"Every child's dream," Natasha teased from behind him, making him jump and glare at her smirk while Pepper laughed. "Does the room inflate your ego enough?"

"You're just jealous that they don't have you on a bedspread," he shot back. She rolled her eyes.

"I don't need my face on a bedspread to feel good about myself." Ouch, that stung. But whatever, he didn't particularly care what others thought of him, except Pepper, and Rhodey, and maybe Bruce. Natasha handed Pepper the pajamas they had bought earlier and a bottle of liquid Motrin which Tony made a face at. He grabbed his pjs and went to the bathroom to change, fumbling a bit with the buttons on the shirt. When he came out Pepper shoved a little plastic cup full of medicine at him. He downed it like a shot and crawled into the bed, tired and hurting, holding his Hulk close.

Pepper went into the bathroom and came back with a warm washcloth, unbuttoning his carefully done top, ignoring his protests, and laying it over the arc reactor. He sighed as she gently massaged the muscles around the foreign object, watching with a small smile as he relaxed into the pillows.

"Better?" she asked after a few minutes, getting a sleepy nod in response as his thumb found its way to his mouth. Normally she would tease him relentlessly about it - that was what made their relationship work - but it would be no fun if he was too tired to snark back. Instead she leaned down and kissed his forehead as he settled, watching his eyes fall shut and his breathing even out.

It was strange seeing her boyfriend like this. He looked so different from how he normally did, but in ways he was exactly the same. Well, he was the same. Perhaps more expressive than usual, but still Tony. Even so, it was awkward to think of this little boy as her boyfriend - even though she knew his real age, she felt like a cradle robber. That, of course, didn't stop her caring for him, and she knew how this could affect him, so she did her best to act as she normally did. She was pleased when that seemed to make him happy, and more pleased when he noticed her discomfort and didn't push her to be romantically intimate. She was fine cuddling, kissing cheeks, holding hands… but anything more than that would feel too strange. It was strange. But she knew anything she was going through was a million times worse for Tony.

Not only that, but she knew his childhood was less than stellar. The least she could do now that he was a kid again was surround him with love and normalcy, and that's what she planned to do. Or, that's what she planned to have the Avengers do. She still had work - blast Stark and his incredibly successful company that kept her constantly busy. Although how normal it could be living with a crew of super humans would have to be seen.

Tony woke up several times during the night, disoriented and in pain, yet always within minutes someone was there to calm the pain and soothe him back to sleep.

The first time it was Thor. He must not have been asleep too long, because it was nearly impossible to wake the Asgardian once he was asleep. He replaced the washcloth, took Tony's hand, and began to sing richly, in a language Tony didn't recognize. It was calming, and warm, and he was back asleep quickly.

The second time it was Steve, looking like a deer in headlights, and Tony happened to think through his tired haze that the others must've been playing a horrible prank on the poor captain.

Steve was clearly not as apt at this as Thor was. He took a cool washcloth and wiped off Tony's face before putting a hand on his shoulder and simply standing there, a comforting strength. Tony wanted to laugh, but instead he rolled over and drifted back off as Steve watched his back.

The third time was Clint, looking disgruntled and like he'd just rolled out of bed. He climbed under the covers with Tony and soothed his confused protests, rubbing circles into his back until he gave in and pressed close, falling asleep to the sound of Clint's heartbeat and the smell of his cologne.

The fourth time he woke up Clint was still in his room, sprawled out on the bed and snoring. Tony pushed himself off the archer's chest, disoriented, his own chest burning enough that his eyes began to water. It was much too hot in the bed with both of them, and somehow the covers had ended up across the room. He looked up as the door opened quietly and Bruce walked in with a small smile.

He was given another dose of children's Motrin and Clint was roused to return to his own room. His pajamas, uncomfortable with sweat, were traded for a large t-shirt and he was wiped down with a washcloth. The comforter was placed back on the bed and Tony was placed under it, cuddling his Hulk close.

Bruce didn't sing or climb into bed. Bruce told a story.

His voice was soft and soothing as he told of a hero in golden armor, who set out to eliminate war from the world. It didn't take long for Tony to fall asleep once more and dream of knights and battles.

He didn't wake up again until sunlight was streaming through the window. He rose groggily, responding to JARVIS's "Good morning, sir" with a very articulate grunt. He stumbled out into the hallway, hoping that one of the others was up; he wasn't confident in his ability to cook while standing on a chair.

He was rather surprised to see not one or two, but all five of the other Avengers in the kitchen, nursing coffees and chatting easily. Bruce and Steve were making something that smelled delicious; Clint and Bruce both looked worse for wear, and Tony felt a pang of guilt, but not much. Thor boomed a good morning and Clint grunted in his general direction and he decided that it was good enough for how early he thought it was.

He went over to where Bruce was standing in front of the stove, tugging on the back of his shirt. He was planning to ask when his next dose of Motrin was supposed to be, but instead his diaphragm decided to revolt, forcing the air out of his lungs with a small squeak. In the sudden silence of the kitchen he felt a mix of mortification and desperation; it felt like he had just been punched in the stomach by Thor without his armor, his lungs trying to invade a space that was currently occupied by the arc reactor, tearing themselves apart in the process. He heard Natasha laughing - "Hiccups, Stark?" He decided to gasp in a breath in lieu of gracing her with a response, only to have it forced back out again with another spasm that knocked him to the ground, the breath leaving him with a high-pitched sob. He sat on his ass, staring up at Bruce as tears gathered in his eyes, trying to catch his breath enough to ask for help.

He'd had hiccups before with the arc reactor, however, coincidentally, children had much less lung capacity than adults. He had no air - he was suffocating, suffocating in a child's body because of the hiccups. What a way to go.

His throat was closing in fear, only making it worse, and he couldn't help but remember the last horrifying time he couldn't breathe, only that wasn't because his own body was revolting but because his lungs were filling with water and drowning him from the inside. What a way to go.

It was about the third hiccup, when he braced himself with his casted arm and clutched at the reactor with the other one, and when tears began to stream down his face in pain and terror, that the others seemed to realize something was wrong, and were instantly on their feet, crowding him and yelling; and oh God, they were taking all the air. He needed that air! He flailed, trying to push them away, and thankfully Bruce seemed to realize he was panicking and got the others to step back.

"Tony," Bruce said very calmly. The physicist was always calm and careful, the exact opposite of Tony. That was why they got along so well. "Tony, is there something wrong with the reactor?" He managed to shake his head, trying to force down the next spasm he knew was coming as his diaphragm tried to escape his chest, trembling. "You have the hiccups?" Bruce cautiously asked instead, looking for confirmation. He forced a small nod before his air was knocked away again and he clutched at Bruce's shirt, desperate and scared. He was going to die because of the hiccups. He was going to die because of the hiccups. What the fuck?

Tony then discovered very quickly that, coincidentally, as children had smaller lung capacities they also had smaller oxygen reserves. His vision began to tunnel and he tried to focus on Bruce, to swallow down his panic. His friends wouldn't let him die because of a stupid thing like the hiccups!

...

Would they?

No, he wanted to go out in a burst of fire, doing something stupidly heroic like flying a nuclear missile through a portal into fucking space. Jesus, Tony, do you need to panic yourself more?

There were hands all over him and it was not helping. Someone was massaging the side of his neck, another pinching the skin between his thumb and forefinger hard enough to hurt, and someone was massaging his solar plexus, as if any of those would help. The worst was the person who was cupping their hand over his mouth. Hello, he was already having trouble breathing, you didn't need to finish him off! He hoped they were trying to help and weren't just winding him up; he really hoped it wouldn't result in him fucking suffocating in the kitchen after turning into a child and getting the hiccups.

The hiccups stopped quite suddenly and he could breathe. His lungs and chest were sore and he shoved the hand from his mouth as he pulled in desperate breaths. The other hands retreated soon afterwards, as did the tunnel vision, but he was already in full blown terror mode. He looked up at the worried and panicked faces of his friends, knowing he was still crying but too vulnerable to care.

"Tony?" Natasha asked quietly, and his eyes snapped to her. Natasha; Natalie; Black Widow. She was safe, she was good. She had red hair. Pepper had red hair too. That was good right? She wasn't big enough to drown him, though she probably still could anyway, but she wouldn't because she was safe. Even Hulk liked her. If Hulk liked her that meant she was good. Tony liked to think Hulk liked him too. No, not Hulk, Natasha, it was Natasha staring at him with well-veiled concern. Some part of him was mortified when he let out a strangled sob and leapt at her, clinging to her and crying hysterically, but it wasn't very big. He felt her tense under him before she gathered him into her arms, holding him close and rocking him slightly.

"It's alright," she muttered, and he could feel her voice vibrating in her chest. He could breathe, and Natasha was safe, so it was okay, it would be okay. He wasn't flying anything anywhere or surrounded by very large very angry men who might possibly accidentally drown him. He was with Natasha and she was good. She had already saved his life once, after all. Well, probably more than once. But he had saved the world once, so they were even.

And he knew he was doing that thing where he thought too fast and too much but the panic and terror were still fresh and he couldn't think slow enough to articulate anything more coherent than a whimper, which he knew would concern his friends who were used to the Stark Snark™ in every situation, but that seemed good enough for now. Natasha rocked and hummed, picking him up and going back to her seat as the others stared at them with some sort of... awe? Tony wasn't sure, he wasn't all that good at reading emotions since he wasn't all that good at feeling them. Natasha sat down with him on her lap as he clutched at her top, the only thing grounding him.

"It's alright," she said again, brushing hair back from his face and grabbing a napkin to dry his cheeks with. "Are you hungry?" He sniffled, managing to stop crying, and nodded, not trusting himself with words.

"I'm sorry," he choked out in a whisper only loud enough for her to hear, his voice breaking. She shook her head and gave a small smile, and he was somehow reassured by that.

"We were making pancakes and bacon," was her only response as she shifted him slightly, reaching out to retrieve Tony's Hulk from Clint, who had retrieved it.

"You okay now, Tony?" Bruce asked, concern lacing his normally flat voice. Tony looked over and managed a small smile, nodding.

"Thanks," he mumbled, rubbing his nose. "I've had hiccups before but it seems like they're more dangerous now." Clint snorted.

"Just a little," he muttered.