Part 3

When the big day arrived, Tony poured himself a cup of coffee and set out to work. His attention wasn't focused solely on paperwork, though. Accustomed as he was to multi-tasking, he could easily handle diagrams, personnel evaluation sheets, a video of Tony Jr., learning to walk (a favorite), and JARVIS' commentary of the birthday party.

"Mr. and Mrs. Sanborn have arrived, Mr. Stark."

"Hm."

"They brought their grandson."

"Just as long as they take him with them when they leave..."

"They are handing a gift to Mrs. Stark. A box. According to my sensors, it is a deluxe set of Sesame Street puppets -"

"Good."

"-manufactured with non-toxic products -"

"Nice."

He wasn't really listening; JARVIS was taping everything for him anyway. He only paid attention when his son's name came up.

"Tony Jr. has just come second in a race."

"Great! What did he get?"

"A large box of Crayola crayons."

Tony shook his head in disapproval. "Oh, Potts, you really went crazy with the educational prizes, didn't you."

Then he paused. Tony Jr., had come up second. Why second and not…? But he quickly eschewed that thought. Second place was good enough, he told himself firmly. Yes, siree, Second was just as great as First.

He just needed to believe it.

Tony sighed. Keeping a lid on his competiveness felt like an uphill battle, sometimes.

He was still musing on this, only half-listening to JARVIS, when he realized his son's name had just come up.

"JARVIS? What did you just say?"

"There has been an accident," JARVIS said dutifully; "Tony Jr. -"

For a second Tony froze, gripped by a sickening feeling -fear and pain, the same feeling he got when Obie yanked the arch from his chest- and then the next, he practically bolted from his seat.

"- fell on the stairs leading to the -"

"Shit. Shit, shit -" Moving fast, Tony grabbed a first-aid kit from his workbench, then rushed to a lateral door. It was the shortest way to the garden area, even with two security check-points along the way. "Come on, come on," he muttered, willing the doors to open faster than they were programmed to.

Rhodey had anticipated that he'd be coming this way. He raised a hand the minute he saw Tony.

"Now, calm down -"

"Where's he?"

"He's ok, Tony; he skinned his knee, but he's all right."

Tony tried to push past his friend but Rhodey wouldn't let him.

"He's ok, I'm telling you." He put his hand on Tony's shoulder. The gesture was meant to calm Tony down, but it didn't work that way.

"Where the hell were you?" Tony lashed out. "You were supposed to be looking after them!"

"Yeah, I was, but they were running all over and I lost sight of him. I fucked up," he admitted. "I'm sorry."

Tony looked over Rhodey's shoulder. Tony Jr. was perched on a stool, solemnly holding a knee with both hands.

His first thought was, 'He's alive!' then, 'There's blood there.'

He looked around. Some of little Tony's friends were there, watching from a distance -probably intimidated by Tony Stark's sudden appearance.

There were no adults around.

"Where's Pepper?"

"She's getting the piñata ready," Rhodey said. "She doesn't know yet."

"Ok," Tony said. "Ok, good." Pepper was the most level-headed person he knew, except where her son was concerned. Better let her find out later, after the wound had been cleaned and dressed.

And that was up to him.

He took a deep breath. He nodded at Rhodey, who finally let him pass.

Tony casually held up the first-aid kit.

"Hey, champ. The Repairman's here."

"Hi, daddy," Tony Jr., said wearily. "I got tagged," he added as sole explanation.

"Oh. Well. It happens." He put the kit on the ground. "You know the drill, right?"

"Uh, huh." The boy shifted a little to allow his dad full access to his knee.

Rhodey stood by their side.

"You need any help?"

"Nah, we're fine. Thanks," he added quietly, 'cause Rhodey had, after all, done his best for the child.

"I'm sorry, man," Rhodey said again.

"Oh, it's ok," Tony said with a sigh. "This happens to kids all over the world every day." He opened the Stark Medical Kit for Children and took some cotton and a couple of brightly colored bottles from it.

He gently cleaned the wound, revealing a gash on the boy's knee.

"Whoa," Rhodes said, "That looks nasty."

"Thanks for the observation, Colonel," Tony said sarcastically. Looking at his son, he used his gentlest tone again. "Hey, Champ; how you doing?"

"I'm fine, daddy," the boy said solemnly. He was being stoic for his father, who in turn forced himself not to fuss.

"We'll take care of it in no time. Want to see the bubbles?"

"Oh, yes, daddy."

"It'll hurt a bit."

"I know." It wasn't the first time he'd gone through this.

"Here we go," Tony said, dreading this moment. No matter how gentle he was, and no matter how many times he'd changed the formula of that antiseptic, it always stung.

Tony Jr. winced. "Yikes," he blurted out, then valiantly pressed his lips together.

"You can yell if you want," Tony said kindly.

"YIKES!"

"There you go," Tony approved.

The antiseptic bubbled over, and Tony Jr., watched with interest.

Meanwhile, his father was watching him.

Looking at Tony, no one would have guessed the inner struggle going on. There were things he needed to say; things he shouldn't say, perhaps, but damn, he'd been holding back for three whole days.

He just couldn't keep mum anymore.

"So," he said casually; "You like Robocop, huh."

"Tony -"

Ignoring Rhodes, he insisted.

"So? Do you like the guy?"

"Oh, yes, daddy. He's cool. He traps all the bad men!"

"Oh, yeah? Can he make little boys' knees feel better too?"

Rhodey shook his head. "Oh, this is so wrong -"

Tony Jr., was frowning over the question. "I dunno -"

"I bet he can't," Tony said spitefully. He took a butterfly band aid and skillfully placed it on the boy's knee. "What about Iron Man?" he asked, "I thought you liked him."

"Tony!" Rhodey was growing more indignant with each question. "Come on!"

"What? It's true, you know; he used to say Iron Man was cool!"

"He is cool," Tony Jr. said tentatively. "But he doesn't have a gun. Robocop does!"

"Yikes." Tony was appalled. "Aw, son; guns aren't cool…"

"Yeah," Rhodey muttered. "Who needs guns when you can pulverize bad guys with your own hands, right, Tony?"

"Shut up," Tony hissed. "This is an important moment between father and son. You-know-who's got to learn that guns are not cool!"

Tony Jr., didn't know who Youno Whose was, but he did know his daddy was totally wrong here.

"Robocop's gun is cool!" he said. "It shoots bubbles when you squeeze it!"

"Bubbles? Really?"

"I saw it on TV!"

Tony pondered over this for a moment. "A gun that shoots bubbles. Interesting."

Rhodey rolled his eyes.

"I bet you're wondering why Stark Industries didn't come up with that one first, huh?"

"Shut up," Tony hissed again. He looked back at Tony Jr. "So. Would you like Iron Man better if he got a gun?"

"Tony, for God's sake, leave the kid alone!" Rhodes even stepped between the two to make his point. "Here, let me make your ego feel better. Tony Jr., tell me this: Who's cooler: Robocop or daddy?"

The boy brightened up. "Daddy's cooler!" he said enthusiastically.

Tony Sr., brightened up too.

"You really think I'm cooler?"

"Yeah!" And the child raised his tiny hand.

Tony high-fived his son. "Thanks, buddy," he said. He looked at Rhodey. "Did you hear that?" he said smugly. "My son likes me better."

"Yeah, yeah. Enjoy it while it lasts."

Tony Jr. was restless all of a sudden.

"Can I go now?" he said. "Mommy's gonna put up a piñata!"

"A Robocop piñata," Rhodey added pointedly.

"Oh," Tony said. He picked Tony Jr. and set him on the ground. "Go. And give it a good whack for daddy, ok?"

THE END