The typical disclaimers apply.

Before we get started, I wanted to respond to a couple of reviewers here.

Deadpool-rules: Until you mentioned it, I didn't even realize that was removing some of the formatting and transitions that I had in the story! Thank you for pointing that out to me and I will make an effort to correct that from here on out. ;)

Aolympia, katewalshs, Toni and Stark05 – thank you all for your continued words of encouragement as well! I really appreciate it! It helps to know that there are people out there interested. That is what keeps me writing!

And now on with the show…

Tony was jolted out of his haze as Jarvis indicated that he had arrived. He touched down gently, collapsing the suit into its case and heading toward the hospital entrance. He pulled his cap over his head and cinched his hoodie snugly around his neck, hoping to pull off an attempt at concealing his identity.

The nurse tried to explain it was past visiting hours. She was not unkind although she informed him dismissively he could come back in the morning. "Listen," he began, and immediately the nurse copped an attitude, smacking her gum and putting a hand on her hip. Lowering his voice, he began again, softer this time, "I missed seeing my son born. I'm his father, I'd like to see him now," he said. "Please," he added.

"Name?" she asked.

"I – I didn't have time to ask his name, I don't know what his name is, it was her decision."

"What's your wife's name?" she clarified. "Or girlfriend," she amended, realizing he was not wearing a wedding band.

"Potts," he answered. "Virginia Potts."

"Room 223, " she said, pointing down the hallway.

Tony picked up his case, and then turned and said, "Thank you."

She nodded and he turned back toward the door, set his case to the side and wondered when he'd become a basketcase. Probably about three and a half months ago, he mused. Who was this man flying from Malibu to San Francisco, taking more vacation time in three months than he'd taken in twenty years, a sonogram picture tucked in his wallet next to a hundred dollar bill.

As he remembered the grainy black and white picture of his son's profile, he was seized with anxiety. This is the real thing, he thought, rubbing his hands together in an effort to still the tremors vibrating up his arms.

Pushing the door open he saw Pepper propped up in the hospital bed, the lights dim, giving the room an aura of separateness from the rest of the hospital. Mike Andrews sat in a chair to the right of Pepper's bed, and they spoke in hushed voices, halting their conversation when they realized Tony had entered the room. A blanket was slung over Pepper's shoulder, but Tony saw a tiny, socked foot escape around the edge, then retreat again.

For as long as he'd known her, since the first day he'd met her, he'd been operating on a sense of containment. With her. Only with her. At first, sure, he flirted, he downright propositioned her. But she was the only one who evaded him. Over time, he respected that, and her for it. And so his affection for her…he pushed it down. It was an art form, his denial. In the end, it had been impossible. Trying to contain Pepper, and his feelings for her, had been like trying to contain the wind. It wasn't possible, and even if it was, the wind made his hands seem insignificant. He would never be able to hold it all. Seeing her in the bed, he wanted words to make everything right. Before he saw his son he wanted to be a normal, functioning human being. He did not want to be the coward who had not been able to commit to a woman who had always been too good for him. She smiled, and he wanted to go back nine months, to a lazy morning when a knock sounded on his door, to when he'd said, "I think what happened was a mistake..." He wanted, instead, to have said something charming and witty, or even the truth, "Tony's Love Shack how can I help you? Just so you know the daily special is a hunk of meat. Bone in."

Moving toward her, he squeezed in between Mike's chair and the bed, kissed her on the forehead.

"You made it," she said, smiling.

Her hair smelled like the ocean and baby powder. "Almost," he whispered apologetically.

Turning to Mike he said, "We need some time alone, Fabio."

"Sure," Mike answered, rising from the chair. "You did good, Pepper," he said, and then told her he'd come by in the morning.

When Mike left, Tony turned toward Pepper expectantly, twisting his hands together in anticipation.

Pepper looked up at him. "He's eating right now," she explained, gesturing with her free hand to her covered chest. "I just want to give him a moment to finish," she said.

"Oh, okay," Tony replied, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

She laughed nervously, and whispered in the quiet room, "Although, it's nothing you haven't seen before," the blanket falling, revealing inch by inch a baby's face that was instantly forever etched into his memory.

And just like that, he loved someone. That quickly, in the split second he saw his son's dark, spiky hair, his paper-thin fingernails, his tiny fist against his flawless baby cheek.

"Oh, Pepper," Tony whispered. "I never thought," and he couldn't finish, and he didn't even want to try and hold the wind anymore.

He reached up and cupped the baby's fragile head in the palm of his hand, ran a finger across his forehead and down his nose. Perfect.

"His name?" Tony questioned softly. "What's his name?"

"His name is Max," she said. " Well, I his full name is Anthony Maxwell Stark...for you. But I thought we'd call him Max."

"Maxwell…was the last name of your foster family. The ones…your family." He whispered to her.

"Yeah."

"It's…perfect, Pepper. You didn't have to name him after me, though…I mean, he…"

"He's your son. It's your name, it was your father's middle name…I just, I wanted him to have a legacy, a family. I wanted him to have –" but before she could even finish he was there, in front of her.

"Thank you…for everything. For him." Tony leaned down and kissed her on the mouth, sweetly, passionately, but briefly. She could do nothing but nod her slightly stunned response and wonder at the enigma that was this man.

The baby snorted and opened his mouth, a pitiful wail piercing the stillness of the room. "Is he okay? What's wrong?" Tony questioned neurotically.

Pepper laughed, "He's finished now."

"Oh."

"Now you can hold him," she said, laying the baby on her outstretched legs as she pulled the edge of her gown over her shoulder. Once secured, she gently lifter their son and placed him in his father's waiting arms.

Tony sat beside her, his son in his arms, the baby's head wobbling from side to side, while he tried to support him in all the right places. Sliding a hand under his son's head, Tony situated his small body in the crook of his elbow. Max squirmed and huffed his discontent, his little arms flailing spastically. The baby eventually settled into the warmth of his father's body and tears silently trailed down Pepper's cheeks at the sight of the tears she found in Tony's eyes as he held his son for the first time. It was a sight she would never, ever forget and it meant more to her than she ever wanted it to. Her heart both ached and soared at that moment, and it made her love and hate Tony all the more. She knew at that moment that her heart would never be free from this man as long as she lived.

After a moment he looked to Pepper, seeking confirmation that he was doing anything right. She smiled, blinking away her own tears, and shrugged her shoulders, which told him: Maybe. Maybe he was doing something right, and he decided to let it be enough for now.

"Pepper, he's…he's perfect. Amazing."

"He is. He looks just like you," she beamed at him, proud that she had done something right for him.

"He does. Lucky kid. It's kinda crazy, I…I can't believe he's finally here. I can't believe he's ours." He sat in the chair at her bedside, holding his son tightly. His son. He still couldn't quite believe it. A physical representation of both him and Pepper, evidence of the love they had shared, even if briefly.

"How was the…you know. Getting him out. Ugh. How was the birth?" he asked, looking at Max.

Chuckling she answered, "It was…fucking hell." He smirked at her language but made no comment. "Because I was so sick, I dilated quickly, there wasn't time for an epidural," she explained. "By the time I got to my room and the doctor checked me, I was already eight centimeters. He is apparently impatient like his father," she said glaring at Tony who only shrugged sheepishly. "It was all a whirlwind. He came so fast. And he has your huge head. Ugh. It wasn't fun…but it was so worth it."

"I'm sorry I wasn't here. I wanted to be," Tony said somewhat sadly.

"I know you did. And I am sorry too. But it's okay," she assured.

Taking a deep breath, he looked at the baby, leaned down until his cheek was against his son's, whispered in his ear, "Hello Max, I'm your dad. It's nice to finally meet you."