Please NOTE: I've edited the Prologue since I was unhappy with Friday's age. I've changed it and some parts of the chapter to those who already subscribed when it wasn't yet altered, she is six and the story will be more concerned with Fluff and the complexities of Tony and Pepper's relationship.

I apologize for any convenience.

Sometimes Friday and JARVIS will talk in code, it'll be denoted as: {.}

Other than that, please enjoy.


Chapter 1: La Petite Mademoiselle

There was always one sure-fire way to ruin Pepper Potts' day. And more than once, it had to do with the unpredictable antics of her other half. The fact that Tony Stark had contacted her in the middle of an annual fiscal meeting with nothing but the words: "Hi Honey! I'm kinda in a pinch right now. But do you think Baby Dior will still deliver at this time?" Left her with no other option but to pinch the bridge of her nose in sheer exasperation.

Her own disbelievingly hissed, "WHAT?!", no likely startling more than one SI board member from the company's soaring financial report. She had to excuse herself soon after that just to wheedle the story out of Stark in the privacy of her eighty-seventh-floor office. Dealing with a panicked Tony was never a good sign, especially when the forty-two-year-old CEO could barely decipher enough manic words to know there had been some kind of accident in the lab and he had, somehow, managed to create a daughter.

"Not just any daughter, Pep." He pointed out, hoarsely terrified. "Ah! Fuck—! Our daughter."

How the hell he had managed that, she was almost too afraid to ask. Never mind possess the current brain capacity to believe. Which was why she contacted Bruce to find out what the hell was going on, hoping desperately her lover's increasingly frantic rambling was nothing more than an accidental chemical spill causing hallucinations. Or too much alcohol flooding his system after too many years without.

Alas, knowing her luck as she did, very rarely did the fates grant her reasonable hope.

Now the pulsing beat of a migraine was the very least of her worries, the idiosyncratic click of five-inch black stilettos swiftly guiding her towards the private Penthouse elevator as she listened intently to JARVIS' objective report pertaining to the current situation.

Dr Banner had already affirmed that Tony hadn't been kidding, nor was he drunk. There was indeed a young girl down in the labs with him and she had, unbelievably, been born of advanced medical equipment from Seoul, FRIDAY's unexpected entanglement in an experimental derivative of her parents' combined DNA and a careless spill of coffee.

A fucking spill of coffee! That was so like Tony, it wasn't even funny. Here the last living Stark trespassed into the territory of the gods, carelessly tearing apart the fundamental fabric of the universe by doing the impossible. Once again. And all by dropping a porcelain mug containing a liquid shot of his greatest vice.

Fuck! The series of deep breaths hissing painfully through the clench of her teeth, did absolutely nothing to abate the racing thoughts threatening to consume her mind. Pepper had no idea what to expect when the elevator doors chimed open, perfectly manicured aquamarine nails smoothing down the invisible wrinkles of a dark grey pencil skirt and a silk, cream coloured, cowl-neck blouse.

The cinch-waisted Prada jacket that completed the ensemble, having been left behind in her haste as she wove a frantic warpath through twelve complex floors and the twisting, twining, labyrinth of the R & D department. A cascade of rose-amber curls was spilling in several untamed sections from the elegant updo it had been twisted into, her usual calm demeanour spiralling in frazzled tatters towards the ground as her heart beat a frantic tattoo against the blood and bone of its prison.

She had just gained a daughter, for the love of God, in the space of a single afternoon.

It wasn't that Pepper never wanted children with Tony, no. She very much did, even helping the billionaire distance himself a little more from the double-edged sword attached to the Iron Man icon. She just hadn't expected something like this to be sprung upon her so quickly, never mind the damage control she would have to do in order for this to work. It would probably force her to dig into long forgotten illicit contacts, illegally shifting government documents in the national archives and creating enough falsified information to support the unexpected surfacing of a Stark lovechild.

The fact that Friday was wholly and completely theirs however, DNA proof and all, was a completely different story. It was going to be like trying to untangle the cosmic, gordian, knot of crazed media, bad press, good press, international, national, state and company politics—.

Straightening her back in preparation for the coming confrontation she could feel bubbling beneath the surface of her skin, manicured nails were digging brief pinpricks of pain into the palm of her hand as she stepped primly into the Tower Penthouse. Her spine was infused with the strength of Stark forged iron. A press of blood red lips, painted with the irreversible ire of a frantic search through several lab floors that yielded no sign of her elusive lover.

Pepper eventually found Tony on the ninety-sixth floor, coral-reef green irises widening in sheer surprise at the unfolding sight before her. Several steps were faltering the determination in her stride, the entire world coming to an abrupt halt as time and reason rudely shifted into intangible particles around her.

That was…it was just too—.

The genius engineer had clearly not heard her come in, too engrossed in his current task as he stood in the centre of their penthouse lounge. A vast white leather couch was spread in a half-moon circle around two lone figures, the late afternoon sun dusting floor-to-ceiling glass in fractured prisms of light as a calloused right hand carefully wiped a silk handkerchief beneath a little girl's tear-rouged eyes and runny nose.

Another steady hand was curled preventatively around the circumference of a small wrist, a wry smile clearly having caught the autumn imp using the sleeve of a far-too-big sweatshirt to erase the gooey streaks of her upset.

God, it was one of the most darling things Pepper had ever seen. Large innocent eyes, a perfect silhouette of Tony's own; gazing up at the engineer with such unbridled trust that an answering tender affection was already bubbling to the surface in sincere (so rarely seen), coffee brown irises.

A fiery glow of copper locks was flowing in natural disarray towards the former AI's hips, several stray strands sticking to the wetness of freckle-dusted cheeks as a tiny, button, nose wrinkled with childlike displeasure at the sensations bombarding her skin.

Pepper could no longer deny it. This could be no one else but her child, even with her eerie stillness and childlike whimsy woven through brilliant peacock green and gold irises. There was a fountain of genius knowledge hidden just beneath the surface, the uncontainable reach of a sentient AI flickering to life in the refraction of a human soul.

Friday was an evolution. Something new. And irrevocably theirs. The little one had clearly gotten her unique colouring from Pepper, yes. But from Tony she could see the older man's playful mischief, golden heart, diminutive stature, manic genius and perfectly mirrored expressions.

It was almost too sweet to stand, like looking into a mirror of truth and finding her family exactly as she imagined them to be. A small smile was already shattering the razor edge of her professional veneer, blissfully loosening the deadly tension drawn between her shoulders as the Stark Industries' CEO didn't dare to move.

She didn't want to shatter the familial moment.

It wasn't until Tony took notice of her in the corner of his eye, that a grin of pure relief and sheepish apology ticked up the corner of a perfectly groomed goatee. He looked fairly unsettled and unsure of himself, almost drawing in upon himself with a reflected terror she rarely saw crossing his features. But before he could part his lips with a single apology, Pepper made sure not to startle Friday as she unstuck her feet from the floor and came close enough to brush a quick caress over soft red hair.

Winding her arms fully around Tony's waist a few seconds later, a hitched breath of surprise whispered humid-affection against the side of her cheek as her heels gave her a solid five-inch advantage over her beloved's unsuited Iron Man form. She was returning his tender expression with a quiet hum, warm lips pressing an affectionate kiss to the side of his temple.

"Thank you, Tony." She said quietly, very aware of the frown of confusion that furrowed the billionaire's brow as he laid his head against her shoulder. It was almost as if he didn't quite understand the reason for her gratitude, nor the quick and abrupt cool of her temper.

Pepper didn't mind though, dragging the pads of her fingers through soft mahogany locks until a small hand crept into the line of her sight. Small nails were curling possessively in the fabric of Mr Stark's shirt where her arms were situated, an equally furrowed tangerine brow drawing a musical chuckle from the older woman's lips.

She was winking playfully at Friday's adorable display of jealousy; the motherly warmth of her smile slowly softening the last visible upset clinging to her features as Pepper reluctantly drew a few steps away from Tony. She was sinking gracefully to the ground on the pinpricks of black stiletto heels, a tender palm carefully cupping the lay of freckled cheek as she revelled internally at the little imp's instinctive lean into her caress.

"Hello, Friday." The brilliant smile her words tickled across soft-porcelain lips, lit up the darkest recesses of the room much like Tony's rare, genuine, expressions. She wanted to capture that brief split second for an eternity, making sure to keep her gaze steady and unwavering regardless of the spritely figure standing shyly but so bravely before her.

When a familiar, accented, voice replied with "Good evening, Miss Potts," Pepper didn't think twice about accepting Tony's hand helping her to her feet or holding out her free palm for Friday to latch onto. It didn't take long for delicate fingers to curl around hers, a pointed look at the odd one out in their little trio, prompting Tony to take their daughter's other hand as she, predictably, led them towards the kitchen.

"Have you two decided what you wanted to eat, yet?" At the frown of confusion giving way to pure delight across Tony's features, wary coral eyes turned swiftly towards Friday who was now staring blankly at her creator's sudden manic switch in emotion. It was—.

"No, Tony." Pepper echoed firmly, already well aware the outrageous food suggestions the billionaire was about to make. "We are not feeding Friday pizza, ice cream or take-out for her first meal. She needs something nutritious. We also don't know if she has a sensitivity to certain types of food. I don't want to make her sick."

"Miss Potts is correct, Sir." JARVIS, ever the voice of reason, interrupted. "Introducing Young Mistress Friday to sustenance she will be able to easily digest has already been suggested by Doctor Banner. Something simple and home cooked should suffice." Unable to contain her grin at the genius' honest-to-god pout at his oldest AI's barely disguised reprimand, Pepper brushed a comforting palm along Tony's shoulder as she walked passed him on the way to the fridge. In the corner of her eye, she could she him help Friday onto one of the breakfast nook chairs before taking an expectant seat himself.

The most important thing to do after dinner, she decided, was to wrangle JARVIS' into helping her trawl through hours of online shopping. There was no way she, nor Tony, was going to dress their darling in anything but the best. Her mind was already spinning through hundreds of colour combinations, luxurious fabric textures, leading high-fashion brands in kids clothing and several children shoe designers she always secretly adored.

All the while, delicate hands were going through the familiar motions of preparing a quick evening meal. Even though it was already passed seven p.m., Pepper decided fluffy omelettes with cheese, bacon, onions and a vinaigrette dressed salad would be the easiest as well as safest choice. She knew after this, Tony was probably going to have a field day introducing his daughter to take-away and unhealthy treats…never mind the infamous Ben & Jerry's Stark Raving Hazelnuts that came out earlier that year.

God, for a man that swore off dairy so seriously after his Palladium Poison scare in 2010, he certainly jumped right back into the swing of things by adoring his ice-cream a little too much. There was a steady dwindling supply hidden inside the freezer that JARVIS kept generously stocked. A saccharine vice she herself indulged in whenever Tony wasn't looking or off playing with Bruce in the labs. It wouldn't do to boost his ego any more than it already was, not at the expense of her dark, dirty, little secret.

Listening to the billionaire's steady chatter informing Friday of any number of strange quirks to expect from being human and answering any curious question that fell from her lips, Pepper was assured things would be alright. Even through the difficulties that was sure to come to light, the impact such an unexpected change would have on their lives and the complex legalities she was sure JARVIS was already ploughing through with manic intensity.

. . .

"Keep an eye on her, J. Alert me if she wakes." Tony noted quietly, a restless hand scrubbing through the muss of his hair and trying to rub some life back into the exhaustion marring his features. JARVIS' pragmatically returned, "Yes, Sir," barely registered through the race of his thoughts as unsteady footsteps wandered aimlessly on the top floor of the penthouse suite.

Pepper was already seated in the living room downstairs, a glass of wine in hand, barefoot and scrolling through countless online shopping websites with a glee he hadn't seen from her in quite a while. Tony was surprised she wasn't as furious with him as he first thought she would be, her reaction to Friday having been one the greatest highlights of the evening so far. After the taste of her homemade omelettes, of course. And that quiet, soft, smile she directed at him whenever she thought he wasn't looking.

There was a vulnerability and fierce protectiveness in that expression, an emotion he himself was struggling to accept even if Friday was but a few hours old and already carving her way into the depths of his damaged heart. Not that she didn't have a place before, mind. Tony adored all his precious creations.

But this felt different,more aggressive than anything he had ever experienced in the presence of someone that wasn't Pepper. Even then, the dependency and complex emotional entanglement that had formed between the two of them, had taken over the span of a decade to reach its ever-evolving crescendo.

It almost seemed like a cruel joke, the sudden appearance of a daughter throwing Iron Man's entire life into wild disarray. Yet, the innovative engineer couldn't find it in himself to care. It didn't matter that his usual routine had been completely overturned, never mind the fact that he would have to take on the life-long responsibility of raising a tiny, detached, piece of himself. Friday was already far more precious than the universe itself, an elemental truth that both soothed and terrified him in equal parts.

The only thing that didn't sit well with him was the darker side of his emotions. The uncertainty, fear and shame of his own shortcomings that chased up forgotten ghosts of the past. Tony Stark hated failure, it rankled something fierce in the back of his mind. A vicious terror that he would never be a good or gentle father, one that could a raise his child without stunting their emotional growth or shattering their inherent innocence.

Having grown up in an icy environment and years of emotional neglect himself, there was no doubt the forty-four-year-old's psyche had been damaged at an incredibly young age. It didn't help that he had been a precocious genius either, especially if it had taken a three-month soiree in an Afghan cave, in his late-thirties, to learn the true value of emotional depth and empathy.

Even today Tony still struggled with some of those demons, never quite able to shake the inadequate fractures cracked through his soul or the ability to leave well enough alone. He didn't know if he had the strength to avoid the same mistakes his father made, nor overcome the bitter, addictive, darkness that twisted so violently through the Stark bloodline.

Edwin Jarvis had been the only true parent he had growing up, him and Ana having filled the role that neither Howard or Maria were particularly good at. Their son however, had a prearranged code worked throughout his very DNA. It was fact that Stark's would place desperate obsessions before anything else. The reason why Tony regularly run off to save the world in a weaponized red and gold suit, danced on the edge of death to fix unmendable mistakes and oftentimes found himself casting furtive glances at the bottle—.

"Fuck!" Swearing violently at the realization just where his feet had led him, a self-depreciating grimace was marring previously blank-kept features. No matter how many times the genius engineer may have claimed he wasn't nostalgic or attached to his past, this room was one of the biggest, never trespassed, spaces in his life. It was also the representation of a self-effusive lie.

The only way Tony knew his emotional state was tipping over into dangerous territory, was if he came here to dwell on the flow of his thoughts. Or as Pepper preferred to call it, sulk.

Unable to push back the chuckle of amusement brewing, vibrant-bright, in the back of his throat; trembling palms were wrenching open the imposing double doors as the light flickered on the moment sneakered feet crossed the threshold.

A sizable private office was opening up before him: artfully arranged with two floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, old rolled up weapon blueprints, family photographs on the marble mantlepiece, leather furniture, dark wood trim and a stunning view of New York spread out beyond a colossal custom-built, eighty-year-old, antique desk.

This was what he liked to call 'Dad's Archives'. It was the part of the man Tony Stark despised but could never let go of. The shadows these objects cast were long, shattering the casques of greater men daring to stand in the way of Howard Stark's legacy. There was no mercy or compassion to be found on the other side of that desk, he knew. Only the bitterness of regret, a sharp sting of disappointment and the pain of his own childhood that, even now, soured the taste of happiness in his life.

Paying no mind to the swirl of heavy emotion following dutifully in his wake, the forty-four-year-old picked his way across a plush cream carpet to the priceless crystal decanter on a low coffee table. He was sinking thoughtlessly into the black leather couch situated directly opposite, silently thanking his ever-capable Pepper for making sure the scent of old cigar smoke and scotch never quite penetrated the mint and grapefruit diligence instilled through regular cleaning.

A deafening clink of crystal glass was echoing mournfully in the shell of his ears, prompting no respect for his current surroundings as the engineer's back came to rest against the arm of the couch and he stretched sneaker-clad feet across acres of priceless leather. He was crossing his legs absently at the knee, a lazy flick of his wrist swirling a vortex of amber-gold in the depths of his glass as he absentmindedly played the age-old Russian Roulette of either drinking the alcohol or staring at crystal prisms fracturing ambient light.

His mind was already eons away from the current unease dripping down his spine, restless fingers flying across the newest iteration if his SmartGlass phone as he flicked the glass palette to display JARVIS' digital report regarding Friday's now documented existence.

The holographic screen was shamelessly reflecting their baby girl's forged birth certificate, dancing in bright blue particles before Türk Kahvesi irises. The data stream was densely packed and complex, highlighting the fact that (going by Bruce's estimate), their little girl was physically at the age of six or so.

J had taken violent advantage of that fact, placing her birth date during the latter part of the three-month gap Tony had been held captive in Afghanistan. It was a significant enough time in both their lives to make sense. Where Pepper had carefully been avoiding media scrutiny in her search for her missing boss. Also, giving rise to media speculation now that she could have 'concealed' the highly-noticeable third trimester of a pregnancy to further protect Tony as the father of the child.

Afterwards, it would also make sense that they obscured their daughter from the rest of the world until it was safe to reveal her identity. The fact that he took up the mantle of Iron Man during that time by sequestering himself away in Malibu to build the suit, was another advantage they could ply the media with for sympathy.

"Well done, J." He breathed quietly, rubbing a tired palm across his forehead as he turned his attention to the AI's closest camera sensor. "Can you file this and keep it from being discovered for a few days? We still need to lay some breadcrumbs for the press to trace, with difficulty, if they start digging for proof of her existence."

"Yes, Sir. I shall encode both hard and soft copies until such a time as Miss Potts or yourself wish to release the information."

"Good. Make sure there were times, biannually, where Pepper or I disappeared for several days or weeks from social engagements and work. You can use the Full Wipe-Protocol across SI Servers: emails, location locks, security footage, documents etc. You know the drill. Cross reference any time both Iron Man or I was absent from important social events and Pep wasn't involved in earth shattering business deals that would be too difficult to refute her not being there." At the AI's gentle hum of agreement, dark eyes were tracing the elegant scroll of data as JARVIS got to work.

It wasn't until he noticed a peculiar hitch in the screen that he realized the system was hesitating to say something, something that was important enough to interrupt the seamless flow of his work. All the while, Tony's own mind was already spinning around the twenty-odd subroutines of trouble it could cause.

"Spit it out, J." He hissed irritably, deciding he had enough of idling as he brought up amber-rich nectar to wet the parch of his throat.

"How will we account for Young Mistress Friday's unusual accent, Sir? An Irish caretaker, tutors or—."

"We buy an Estate in Ireland, JARVIS." A familiar tone interrupted. "Preferably one that has been on the market for the last eight years or so. We can always alter the Bill of Sale's acquisition to a false date. There are plenty enough corrupt officials and excellent lawyers to acquire private Visas for high-profile celebrities in the country, especially if it were to fall under the Stark Industries flagship."

"Pepper, that's—." Startled that he had been tracked down to the monument of his internal shame, the brewing anger he had been expecting her to display the whole day was but a brief flash in the depths of her gaze. A soft, sad smile was pinching the corner of her lips instead, the moment she noticed a suspiciously empty tumbler hanging from calloused fingertips.

"Haven't you always wanted a medieval castle, Mr Stark?" She returned teasingly, swiftly shielding her sorrow behind an impenetrable wall of steadfast determination as bare feet slid seductively over soft, cream, carpet. Tony's eyes were automatically tracking the natural sway of her hips, drawing his full attention much like iron locking onto a magnet. It wasn't until she carefully shoved his legs aside and joined him on the couch, that he noticed the late hour ticking away on the antique clock beside them.

It was already 1:45 a.m., the red marks beneath stunning blue eyes an indication she herself hadn't been able to find rest either.

"You want to talk about it?" She inquired softly, already well aware why he had retreated here. The offer was a tempting one. Tony never really hid anything from Pepper, only the darker and more self-destructive thoughts he knew would cut her deeply. So, he shook his head in the negative. Violently sliding the empty glass of scotch across the side table as if it had seared his fingers, the forty-four-year-old found himself instinctively shifting forward so he could bury his forehead in the crook of his beloved's neck. Just so that he could simply forget all his troubles for a little while.

"I love you, Pep." He whispered quietly, winding a tight grip around her waist as she tutted softly before pressing an affectionate kiss to side of his temple. She was shifting her trapped arm upwards, teasing prickly nails across the downy hair at the base of Tony's scalp. He was practically purring at the soothing caress, relaxing fully into her encompassing embrace as her mere presence chased away the darkest of his thoughts.

"You may not see it, Tony." She said softly, earnestly. "But you are a good man, a great man. You will be a magnificent father. Of that, I have no doubt." The billionaire pretended not to feel the sting of emotion in the corner of his eyes, merely accepting the words for what she intended them to be:

Truth and comfort.

It wouldn't do to dwell of the past, after all. They had a daughter to look after now.

. . .

"Are you sure you want to spend the day with Tony?" Nodding shyly at the incredulous question falling from Miss Potts' lips, Friday kept sharp peacock irises trained on manicured fingers fussing with the buckles of charcoal Mary Jane shoes settled on her feet. She was seated on Boss' bed, legs swinging absently back and forth as her Mamaí (3*) went through the newly established routine of making sure she was dressed for the day.

It hadn't taken a day for either of her creators to realize that whilst she learned and adapted at lightning speed, Friday couldn't be bothered to comply with the norms of society. That included getting dressed, bathing, eating or sleeping and attempting to stay out of Sir's running projects whilst simultaneously chattering with JARVIS in constant, complex, computer code.

Miss Potts' seemed unfairly gleeful that she was reflecting some of Mr Stark's behaviour as a child, almost as if the former AI's actions was proving some theory she had been working on ever since she had first seen them together. Friday didn't mind the comparison much, she was inordinately proud that she could relate to her Daidí like that. It also helped immensely to have his grounding presence so close to her, especially with the abject chaos the penthouse had descended into over the past few days.

A brand-new room was being refurbished and constructed right beside the master suite. One that was irrevocably hers, even down to the complex holographic interface JARVIS' insisted on being installed in the walls and the expensive decorators Mr Stark couldn't leave alone. Friday didn't quite feel comfortable enough with the thought of leaving the California King she shared with Ma'am and Sir for the past few nights, however.

Being in such close proximity to either of them made things a little easier on her, oftentimes settling down the constantly shifting tide of data affecting her matrix or easing the confusing emotions overwhelming her synthetic mind at irregular intervals.

"I hate to interrupt, Miss Potts." Her brother's apologetic voice suddenly cut through the haze of her thoughts. "But you have a nine-thirty scheduled." Watching curiously as a frown of discontent furrowed the older woman's brow, warm hands were helping her down from the high bed before Pepper sunk down on the prim points of her heels to smooth out the wrinkles of her daughter's short blue plaid skirt and resettle a cascade of fiery orange curls down her back.

"Are you warm enough?" Snuggling into the soft sensation of a fluffy, cable-knit cashmere cowl-neck jumper, swaying copper strands were tickling softly across her cheeks as she nodded happily behind the twine of a turquoise-tasselled scarf Miss Potts' had wound around her neck. She was shifting her stance to get used to the black stockings accentuating the stylishness of the outfit, having learned from Boss that it was better not to object when Mamaí started dressing her up or coaxing her into doing unplanned activities.

It won't end well, he always said. I don't want tears on either side, I can't deal with crying women.

She had taken his advice to heart, even if the AI couldn't really find it in herself to mind the fussing. Friday liked having Miss Potts and Mr Stark's sole attention trained on her, it made her feel a little less insecure, alone and trespassing in a completely different iteration of the world. Thoughts like these, always made her feel very uncomfortable, however. The pained prickle of emotion in the back of her eyes shattering any semblance of—.

"Damn it!" Watching curiously as Miss Potts tapped the suddenly fizzing screen of the phone she had been typing on, peacock irises shifted her attention towards her brother's closest camera sensor as she asked curiously where Boss was. The older man was usually here watching the proceedings with quiet contentment, insistently shoving one of the vast rainbow collection of teddy bears he had bought for her in her direction.

Miss Potts' always colour-coordinated one with the outfit Friday was wearing, tenderly grabbing the matching turquoise bear now as a little furrow settled between blonde brows. Friday always noticed the appearance of that expression, it tended to crop up whenever she talked to Jarvis. It was a strange little quirk, something Boss insisted was nothing but Pepper's way of showing exasperated fondness. He himself was a recipient of that pinched-lip, narrow-eyed and mock-angered glare most of the time…even at higher degrees than it was now.

But Friday was afraid one of her creators was upset at her inability to talk to her brother like a normal human, not relying on the coded algorithms and twining matrix she had been born to thread through his existence ever since conception —.

{Sir is already in Lab A5, Young Mistress Stark.} J returned the string of data just the same, echoing a comfortable flood of affection in the back of her mind as she nodded and made sure to stay half-a-step behind the deadly click of five-inch, four-figure, heels.

"Do you think you can remind Tony to drop you off in my office before the Avenger meeting later this afternoon? Also, don't forget to eat…either of you. I'll be asking JARVIS to keep an eye." Smiling through her 'Yes, Miss Potts.', Friday shyly took the hand proffered as they rode the elevator down to the working labs on the team floor.

It was lucky there were no one present that day, Boss the only one busy with official 'Avenger' related business and designing the latest schematics for the Mark 44 before machining. The rest of the team were scattered across the rest of the continent, absorbed in new assignments or caught up in running private errands. She herself had yet to be introduced to the rest of the world, never mind the infamous Colonel Rhodes she had always been told to keep a close eye on.

Proof of her existence had already subtly been worked through the official channels, even if Mr Stark had yet to have Jarvis release the encryptions surrounding the data. They were waiting for the right moment, he said. Something Friday could appreciate immensely, especially if it meant she had a while longer to learn how to act human in front of others and get used to being so small and vulnerable—.

"Ah! There you are! My two beautiful girls! I was wondering when I'd get too see you again." Jerking slightly in surprise when she noticed they had already crossed the threshold into Daidí's main lab, the smile that crossed her features at the hypnotic dance of countless holographic screens in the air was already spreading a heady warmth in the pit of her stomach as she rushed forward.

Only to crash unexpectedly into Boss' legs.

"Easy there, baby girl. We'll get to everything in a bit." There was a spark of amusement flickering in dark brown orbs, a warm palm cupping the back of her head as she grinned up at the brief display of affection between Mr Stark and Miss Potts as they shared a brief 'good morning' kiss and her Mamaí bent down after, to leave a gentle peck on the skin of her forehead.

"Behave, you two. I'll see you later." And then she was gone, vanishing on perfectly poised strides, an unshakable executive veneer, clicking heels, a cloud of perfume, beautifully tailored clothes and meticulously styled rose-champagne curls. It was—.

"She's beautiful." Friday said softly, truthfully.

"That she is, Friday. But so are you." Unexpectedly happy at Boss' easy reassurance, peacock gold irises turned eagerly towards the schematics that was just outside her reach on the other side of the work table. Seeming to notice her growing interest in the complex calculations, Tony brushed a careful palm against the crown of her head before heading in the direction she was so fascinated in.

"So, baby girl, what do you want to play with today? J? Some programming? Mathematics? Code? Happy? Or do you want a puppy? A—."

"Can I help Daidí with the suit assembly?" Nearing dropping the precision tool he had just picked up, a rich rumble of laughter was echoing pleasantly through the previously silent recesses of the lab. Of all the things she could have asked for, Tony mused. She had to ask for that one.

Friday was his little girl, alright. Of that, there was no doubt.

Unable to conceal the smirk curling up the corner of a meticulously groomed goatee, calloused fingertips beckoned his daughter closer as he cleared a stool for her to sit on and dragged it right next to his own. It was an absolute joy to see the shining, childlike, curiosity turned towards every move his fingers made. Her concentration was so intent that Tony was sure her mind was far, far ahead of her body's tiny six-years of appearance.

It was one of the most adorable things he had ever seen, especially as she efficiently scrolled through the latest schematics with just as much, if not more so, understanding of the contents than JARVIS and him who crafted them.

"Alright, Fri." He finally relented, unable to resist those large, green-gold eyes staring hopefully up at him. Was that the infamous puppy-dog eyes? Because if it was, Tony had no idea how Pepper had ever denied him anything when he used his own. She must have some kind of inherent immunity in resisting cuteness…something he himself was going to have to work on if he hoped to survive his way to fatherhood.

"If Pepper asks, you kept JARVIS busy. You had nothing to do with the soldering, wiring, or bolt tightening…" Friday nodded her head in eager understanding, inordinately happy to be exactly where she was and doing what she had always dreamed to if she were capable. There was nothing sweeter to her, not with Boss right beside her and Jarvis, like always, keeping diligent watch from above.


3* Mamaí – Mommy in Irish.

Thank you so much for reading, I do hope my Honeys found it enjoyable. If there are any questions or comments you'd like to make, please feel free to. I always make sure I reply as soon as I can. :)

It's always a pleasure chatting plot points or what you found the most enjoyable.

Yours Always
Chocolate Carnival