AN – Alright! I want to get to the cute stuff already, where they're a happy family. I have a great plan for an ending conflict.
Yo Gabba Gabba is hilarious. Particularly Biz Markie doing beat boxing.
If you want to listen to the classical piece I did while writing this, or at least the second part, it is Expression by Helen Jane Long. It's GORGEOUS. Enjoy. =)

Chapter 12
The Kids Are Alright
Or, Expression

"Is my tie alright? I mean, does it go with all of this-"

"Tony, you look fine. It's the same color, it's fine. You're both fine. We're all fine." Pepper was touching up spots from my last foray in the suit while Emily was most interested in her Gabby Gabby show. Green rooms were never green, they were just…rooms. Rooms to get touched up in. Rooms to fuss over clothing.

"Don't you need to go for make-up, Pep?"

"Yes, I do, but I'll be fine. I put enough on this morning…"

"OW, that one's still open."

"Papa-purple!"

"Yep, you're wearing purple."

"NO. Purple!" She was pointing to the screen, where the background behind the hopping kids was purple. At least she was learning. And now, with that tutor to help her learn more English, she was doing alarmingly well. Like, picking up on things I didn't think she would be able to. She pointed at my chest and said arc last week. It was surreal.

The world knew about her existence in a hushed sense now. A month had passed since she ran in on our press conference, and since I started my other job again. Pepper seemed happier to come home at night, and wanted to play with Emily before bed. I guess while I was gone that night, something changed. Whatever it had been, I know I didn't mind.

"Come on principessa." Up in my arms she went and out the room we go – to another room with a white screen, ten bright lights, and a camera man waiting for us. The interview was done, now the photos were the last part.

The photographers only asked for one thing – that we dressed alike.

So she was in a lavender dress, and I was wearing my favorite royal purple dress shirt and white tie. Even Pepper wore a purple blouse. We were a family. A creepy middle-class soccer family.

At least that's how I felt about it. Having never been in something like that, it was creepy to me. I saw these pictures all the time on people's desks at work, and they always made me want to throw up at how cute they were. Now I understood why they did it. It was, I guess, a sense of bonding. A togetherness. Whatever it was, it was pretty damn cutesy and I wanted to go home, but this was the last part.

"Miss Potts, Mister Stark, sit down on those pillows in the middle…one of you hold Emily…look at me, that's great – alright, first take!" And the blinding lights I always hated made me see circles of light for days.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Meet Emily Stark, the Iron Man's daughter from a one night stand with recently deceased Russian Model Ilya Lyubochka. Tony took custody when Ilya passed away and her mother put out the suit claiming the child to be his, and that's how the story goes. Do we have an Iron Girl on our hands? The pictures show…"

"Wow this reporter is terrible. But the pictures look good. Really like the one they chose for the front." Nothing like Sundays. Not much to do, not much anyone can make me do in particular. Pepper, on the other hand, was a little more interested in something on her laptop, and Emily was back playing with dolls while singing something to herself. A normal Sunday morning + me in pajama pants sucking down my second cup of Columbian. I knew there was a reason I had this stuff shipped for an ungodly amount…

I scratched at the edge of the reactor before leaning over to sneak a peek at Pepper's laptop. She was on some sort of forum it looked like-

"What are you reading?"

"Oh, just the comments on our story in People. One woman thinks I'm a completely changed man from my old ways, and says she's proud of what I have become. Another thinks that the real me has long since been kidnapped and I'm really just a robot now trying to cover myself with the press.

"I could be a robot, Pepper. You wouldn't even know."

"Sure, because you wouldn't be cold or make weird noises when you move or not eat or anything like that."

"Fine, fine. Hey, did we get any of those pictures sent to us?"

"Nope, they said we could have prints made later if we wanted. Do you want to?"

"Oh yeah. I'm going to need one for my desk downstairs…go right next to my parents." I took a long sip of my coffee, kind of quietly inching away. It was odd to think of myself as a father like my father was my father. But I wasn't like him. I was around. I loved Emily. I didn't blow her off and not tell her about it. Well, she is 5. He probably didn't blow me off when I was 5 either.

Down went my coffee cup on the table, and down went me – crawling over to my very amused daughter and her box of Barbies and clothing for them. She was busy dressing and undressing them while having a very significant conversation to herself about something.

"What are you doing, Em?"

She kept on mumbling on about something. I did notice one Barbie though – a Ken doll, with dark hair. The hair looked thoroughly messed, but there was something black on his face. I tried to rub it off with my finger, but realized it wasn't coming off. It was sharpie all over his chin and cheeks, and there was a blue smudge on his chest too. Wait a minute.

"Emily…is this me?"

I turned the doll to her and looked at her with a funny angry look, and she looked from the doll to me, then pointed and let off a stream of half Russian half English words. I heard Papa, arc, and beard. Hell, I didn't know she knew beard.

Then she fervently started digging for something in the box. Hopefully some clothes for said Me Barbie because I was a little naked and cold, if you know what I mean. Instead, she pulled out a redheaded Barbie that was half clothed in a black skirt and falling off white shirt, which then she prattled on about Mama and put some black shoes on the Barbie.

I did think it was somewhat funny that I was nude and Pepper at least had clothing on. What did that say about her thoughts on me, I wondered. The child's psych said even the smallest details mean something to her. Then, as she went on her tirade, she started making kissy noises and pushing the two dolls together. Okay, so…

"Jarvis, if you would, please."

"Little Miss Stark is going on about her mother and father in love, and as well how they do not fight. And that father stays at home with her."

Definitely an improvement from playing mean model.

I started digging around in the box once she had started grabbing at something else on the floor, I guessed looking for Pepper-Barbie's second shoe. If we bought a Ken doll, it meant there had to be some sort of clothing for me. As much as real me enjoyed the nude, I was a little done with the naked Barbie-fest.

"Here." Pepper was holding a piece of fabric so tiny – it seemed to be made out of a specific material…and when I looked at it in my hand, I realized what it was.

I pulled the tiny wife beater on the Tony-Ken doll and the blue dot was just in the right place. It had little black spots on it even.

"We made Barbie clothes while you were on your last mission. I made it out of one of your old shirts." Pepper was now sitting behind and between the two of us, holding out a little plastic shoe to Emily who took it with a very enthusiastic and accented thank you. Pepper also handed me a pair of black pants to go with my dirty tank top, and my doll version finally looked right. Well, other than the 5-year-old version of my goatee.

Pepper asked if she could have her Barbie, and she fixed the little blouse. We locked eyes, and for a moment I wanted nothing more than to dart out and kiss her as hard as I ever could, to show her how much I loved all of this. A quiet Sunday morning, playing with Barbie dolls. 3 years ago I would have said you were crazy to think I would be doing this instead of working through a massive hangover while hiding away in my workshop so I wouldn't have to deal with the still sleeping model in my bedroom.

The quiet moment was dashed by a very loud Emily making sound effects as she poked her small arm in between us with a little girl doll that was dark headed and dressed in a blue dress.

"Look, look – family!" Emily cried, giggling. I thought about crying for a moment, but Emily caught my attention. She took Pepper and I's dolls from us and configured them together, arms out, with a little Emily doll in the middle. It was made to look like Pepper and I were hugging Emily between us.

"See?" She held up the mass of arms and plastic for both of us to see and giggled more, her mouth going on a mile a minute. I scooped her up into my arms and tickled her some, making her squeal louder, while Pepper moved closer and laid her head on my shoulder. I reached out for her, and she reached out for me, and we wrapped ourselves around our daughter just like the dolls she was still holding did. It was nothing more than a quiet simple moment of love. That Emily decided was too long.

"Breakfast?"

…definitely, definitely my child.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

AN - WOOOO. Fluffy cute stuff. Had to get that out of the way. And yes, I had a Barbie doll that I made my father when I was like, 7. He was the Prince from The Little Mermaid, and my mother was the Ariel doll (would make sense if you saw my parents – he's black headed, my mother is a VERY fiery redhead) and I colored his beard and everything. My mom still has them. I'm 20 years old and they're still in my closet at home.
ATTENTION ALL PEOPLE WITH SOME SORT OF ARTISTIC ABILITY – I would LOVE a drawing of the picture they put on the cover of People. I have the idea right in mind, but I didn't write it down here. I'll do something for it – I just have no art skill and would love drawings. =)