Bonjour, my lovelies! I come bearing an update. Huzzah. This chapter is pure fluff served with a side of goo, but I don't even care because I had a blast-and-a-half writing it. It was definitely a nice break for me after all the angst I've been churning out as of late. Hopefully, it's a nice break for y'all, too!

As much as I would love to own Tony and Pepper and Harley, I don't. Or Iron Man, for that matter. I just take out the characters and play with them every so often.

It was a long and unhappy thirty-six hour period, but like all things—it ended. Before Pepper, Harley, and Tony knew it, they were back on the jet for the quick return trip to Manhattan. "Did you remember to pack everything, Harley?" Tony asked as they boarded.

Harley nodded absently, half-asleep on his feet. He'd been understandably subdued since their trip to the diner, but he did seem—on the whole—more at peace. Tony didn't expect things to be magically fixed from here on out, of course, but he did have a feeling they'd made some pretty significant progress.

But this—this lethargy—that was different than quiet. Harley seemed run-down, maybe even a bit pale. Tony made a mental note to keep an eye on him as the day wore on. Pepper, too, seemed more tired than usual. It had been a difficult few days, Tony rationalized, but still. Something was definitely off with them

Harley curled up on one of the rows of seats and fell asleep just a few minutes after the plane took off. Pepper tiptoed over to him and covered him with her coat. She sat back down next to Tony and laid her head on his shoulder with a soft sigh. "Hey there," Tony said.

"Hi," Pepper answered, her voice a bit hoarse.

Tony frowned, "Are you feeling okay?"

Pepper nodded, "I'm fine," she answered, "Just tired, is all."

Maybe that was all; maybe she was just tired. But regardless, Tony couldn't help the sudden curl of heat in his chest. In spite of the good place he'd been in as of late, he did still have a decent sized list of neuroses. Germs and illness…Tony didn't exactly do either of those things. In fact, he tended to avoid them like, well, the plague. Pepper (Tony swears she can read minds sometimes) seemed to inherently sense his discomfort. She sat up, "Tony," she said, "I'm got getting sick. I promise. I just need a decent night's sleep, and I'll be good as new. Don't worry."

"No, yeah, I know," Tony said, "I wasn't worried for that particular reason, anyway. I was just checking on you."

Pepper knew Tony far too well to completely take his word, but she did her best to at least give him the benefit of the doubt, "Whatever you say, Tony," she said before she looked over at Harley, "He's so peaceful when he's asleep."

Tony looked over at him, too, "He is," he agreed, "It's lucky for him, really. Makes it easy to forget what a little terror he is the rest of the time."

"Oh, hush, you," Pepper chastised gently, "He's not that bad."

"He's okay," Tony shrugged, and laughed at the look Pepper shot him, "I'm kidding. He's much better than okay. He's fantastic; I'd go so far as to say superior, even."

Her eyes still on Harley's sleeping form, Pepper said, "I can't imagine our lives without him, now. It's funny. Three months ago, if someone had told me I'd be taking care of a ten-year-old kid in a few short weeks, I would've laughed at them."

"Life is weird that way," Tony agreed.

"I feel guilty, sometimes," Pepper admitted, "For being as happy as I am that he's with us, since the circumstances that brought him here are so terrible."

"Don't feel guilty, Pep," Tony told her, "What happened isn't your fault any more than it is Harley's. You're not happy about what happened; you're happy because you care about him. Feeling badly isn't going to change the past. You're there for him now, and that's what matters."

Tony had never told anyone this, but he sometimes felt guilty, too—albeit, for totally different reasons than Pepper. It was his fault that Killian had targeted that little area of Chattanooga. He may not have been completely to blame, but some of the blame still did lie on his shoulders. And what killed him most of all was that, maybe, he could have stopped it. He was there for Harley now, sure. But was being there now good enough?

Tony didn't know the answer, and he wasn't certain he ever wanted to know.

The fasten seatbelt signs lit up, "We're landing," Tony said to Pepper, "Should we wake up him up?"

Pepper shook her head, "We still have a good ten minutes until we're back on the ground," she answered, "Let's let him sleep."

So they did. They exchanged quiet conversation in the kind of short-hand that was part-and-parcel of a long relationship. This closeness—this intimacy—it was foreign territory for Tony. He still wasn't sure exactly how to let people in, but he couldn't help but think—as he ran his hands through Pepper's hair—he was definitely improving.

When the seatbelt light blinked off, Pepper stood and walked over to Harley. Shaking his shoulder lightly, she said, "Harley, sweetheart, we're back. You need to wake up now."

Harley mumbled something and pulled Pepper's coat tighter around him. Pepper jostled him again, a little harder this time, "Harley," she repeated, "It's time to wake up."

Harley sat up slowly and looked around, "Where am I?" he asked sleepily.

"You're on the plane, buddy," Pepper answered, "We're back in Manhattan."

Harley rubbed the bleariness out of his eyes and yawned, "Oh," he said.

Pepper pushed a lock of hair back off of his forehead, "Did you have a nice nap?" she asked.

Harley nodded and yawned again, "It was pretty good," he answered.

Tony watched the drowsy ten-year-old with interest, "Looks like someone may need to go to bed early tonight," he commented.

To Tony's infinite surprise, Harley didn't argue—and the threat of an earlier bedtime was usually anathema for him. He just sighed and said, "Yeah, maybe," before curling into Pepper's side.

Tony raised his eyebrows, "I'm sorry, but I am talking to Harley Keener, right? Or did aliens come and replace him with a pod-person while I wasn't paying attention?" he asked.

Harley half-smiled at the question, "Very funny, Tony," he said, just before his eyes fluttered shut.

Tony gave Pepper a bemused look. Pepper shrugged and said, "I guess he's just sleepy."

"Am not sleepy," Harley muttered, only half-awake at best.

"Now that's more like it," Tony observed, "Come on, Harley. Happy's waiting for us in the parking lot."

Harley looked up at Tony with heavy-lidded eyes, "Carry me," he pleaded, "Please?"

Tony sighed. How was he supposed to say no to that? "Alright, alright," he agreed, "C'mere."

He scooped Harley into his arms and groaned, "Jesus, you're heavy," he said.

"Don't be a drama queen," Harley mumbled. Pepper laughed out loud.

"Says the kid who's all but patented the Bambi eyes," Tony retorted, "Did you want me to get the kettle on the phone for you?"

But Harley didn't answer. He'd already fallen back asleep. In fact, he remained asleep as Happy drove them back to Stark Tower, and he hardly even stirred when Tony and Pepper tucked him into bed. "The last few days must have taken a lot out of him," Tony noted, feeling a twinge of guilt as he spoke.

Pepper nodded her agreement as she gave Harley's forehead a quick kiss, "It was a good deal for him to process in such a short period of time," she said, "He managed quite well, though. Better than I was expecting."

"What had you been expecting?" Tony asked.

Pepper smiled wryly, "The worst," she answered, as they walked back out into the hall.

"You know, your irrepressible sunny optimism was one of the first things that made me fall in love with you," Tony remarked.

"Oh, ha, ha," Pepper deadpanned, "Every relationship needs a realist, Tony, and you and I both know that we've had the 'one of us needs to be responsible' discussion before."

Tony cocked his head to the side, "Do I sense a lecture coming on?" he asked, "If so, we should take it into the kitchen. Because you know what goes great with a lecture? A bottle of wine."

"And what happens after the wine isn't bad, either," Pepper hummed, satisfied to see a definite blush creep into Tony's cheeks.

"Is that a suggestion?" he asked.

"Maybe," Pepper said lightly, "But you'll have to sweep me off my feet if you want to get to the really good parts."

Tony pressed a sudden, impulsive kiss to Pepper's mouth; it was fierce and warm and left her feeling like she'd drank too much on an empty stomach. She clung to him tightly, his familiar cologne and machine oil scent enveloping her, and—God—he was good at this. Tony pulled away to look at her, his eyes bright, "Is that what you had in mind?" he asked.

"Oh, Tony," Pepper murmured, "I'm completely swept."

Grey and dreary weather greeted Tony when he woke up the next morning. He didn't mind, though. He liked the rain, within reason. It was peaceful, definitely. Plus, it gave him an excuse to spend the better part of his day inside the lab. He rolled over, and was surprised to see Pepper sleeping next to him. It was right around eight, which was early for him, but Pepper was usually up and dressed by 7:30. She had relaxed, some, since Harley had come into the picture, but she was definitely still the early riser of the two of them.

Tony watched Pepper fondly as she slept. He loved that he was the only one who got to see her like this. She was so poised and smart and capable. The very definition of unflappable, really. Which made her great at what she did, but it also made her unbelievably intimidating. (Not that Tony would ever admit that to her.) But when she slept, Pepper unintentionally showed a totally different side of herself. All those hard edges, the strong armor she built around herself—it all disappeared. A rare, sweet softness took over, and Tony had half a mind to bury his face into her neck and stay there for the rest of the day.

But, unfortunately, there was work to be done. There were prototypes that needed tweaking, and Bruce had just dropped him a few blueprints the other day. So, Tony pressed a tender kiss to Pepper's forehead before he reluctantly eased himself out of the warm cocoon of covers for a shower.

Thirty minutes later, Tony was standing in the kitchen—reading the business section of the Times while he waited for the coffee to brew. Its heady scent was soon permeating the room and Tony was practically dozing where he stood, when the patter of footsteps shook him back to consciousness. He turned to look at the doorway just as Pepper came stumbling through it—tousle-haired and wan. "You going for the grunge look today, Pep?" Tony asked, "I like it. The nineties are making a comeback."

"Shut-up," Pepper grumbled, "I'm sick."

There it is, Tony thought. She could've denied it to the ends of the Earth, but Tony had known better. Pepper's admission, though, had caused an all-too familiar, unpleasant squirm in Tony's stomach. He did his best to shove that particular phobia aside; he can be sensitive and caring when he wants to be, contrary to what is extraordinarily popular belief. It's Pepper, he reasoned, and it's probably only a cold. It's not the plague. And besides, you love her. He set the paper down on the counter and wandered over to where she stood, "Oh, yeah?"

Pepper sniffled gently into the back of her hand, "Mhmm. My throat was kind of sore when I went to bed last night, but nothing awful. I really did think I was just overtired, same as I told you on the plane. But then, I wake up this morning, and I'm dying."

"Dying, huh?" Tony teased gently, "That's pretty serious. Have you at least finished all your paperwork?"

Pepper rolled her eyes, but still laughed huskily. Tony was so near and inviting and warm that she couldn't help but bury her face in the soft fabric of his tee shirt. Tony stiffened involuntarily, which Pepper noticed. Her face flamed (she hoped she could just chalk it up to the fever), and she said as she pulled away, "Oh, God, Tony, I'm sorry—,"

But Tony shook his head, "No, hey, I'm sorry. It's just…one of those things. I don't—it needs—I need work. Well, I need to work on it."

He mentally punched himself for being so inarticulate. His usual glibness had completely evaded him, apparently. So, he just settled for gently pulling Pepper back into his arms. She resisted for a moment, unsure, but eventually leaned into his embrace.

They stayed like that for a few long, lovely moments. That is, until Pepper inhaled sharply and broke away to sneeze.

"Gesundheit," Tony said.

Pepper pulled a crumpled tissue from her pocket, and blew her nose in response. Tony laid a hand on her forehead—warm and comforting in spite of the rough callouses, "You're kind of hot," he noted, "Well, not kind of, really. Always. Smoking, in fact. But I think you may have a fever."

Pepper sighed, "Possibly. Probably. I haven't checked. But it doesn't matter, even if I do. I still have a million things I need to do today."

"Hey, JARVIS?" Tony called, "Can I get a reading on Pepper's temperature?"

"Tony, honestly—"

"It's 100.9, sir," the AI responded in his customary flat tone.

Tony brushed a few loose strands of hair back from Pepper's forehead, "Alright, kid," he said, "You should be in bed."

Pepper stifled a cough in the crook of her arm, "Tony, I told you, I have too much work," she protested, though even she knew that the objection was half-hearted at best.

"I think I can manage to pick up the slack for one day, Pep."

Pepper raised her eyebrows sardonically, "Oh, really?"

"Ouch. I'm hurt, Potts. You don't trust me?"

Pepper just smiled and rolled her eyes. Tony laughed and said, "I'll take that as a no?"

"Definitely a no," Pepper answered.

"I don't think you give me enough credit," Tony said.

"I give credit where credit is due," Pepper responded primly.

Tony laughed out loud, and Pepper couldn't fight the grin that appeared on her face. However, rattling coughs quickly broke it in half. When she caught her breath, her teary eyes met Tony's dark brown ones. Sincere affection had replaced the usual sharp wit. She really, really liked that look.

"Hey, Pep?"

"Yeah?"

"Bed. Now."

Pepper sighed, "You got it, boss."

"I'll check on you in ten minutes," Tony told her, "And if you're working instead of resting, I'm locking your laptop until further notice."

Pepper followed Tony's instructions; she was too tired and sick to put up any sort of a fight. She wasn't entirely sure she believed Tony's promise to return. She loved Tony—so much it hurt, sometimes—but he wasn't exactly the most empathetic person around, even he would admit that. So, when he appeared in the bedroom twenty minutes later, she was actually quite impressed (even though he was ten minutes later than he said he'd be). But the cold medicine and fragrant paper bag he was carrying negated the delay almost entirely.

"Oh, darling," Pepper bantered weakly with a pet name they never used, "You cooked!"

Tony grinned, "All day, slaving over a hot stove, et cetera," he said, "It's chicken noodle. You want some?"

Pepper sneezed.

"Gesundheit," Tony told her, "So, that's a no, then?"

"Maybe later," Pepper said, "It was a very sweet gesture, though."

Tony made a face, "'Sweet' is not a word I ever expected to hear in relation to me," he said.

Pepper laughed, "Afraid it'll ruin your image?" she teased.

"Just don't let the press know how soft I've gotten," Tony said, with a mock shudder, "I'll never hear the end of it."

Their easy repartee came to an end when Harley poked his head in the bedroom. He was still in his pajamas, and he looked decidedly miserable, "I don't feel good," he croaked.

"Oh, Harley," Pepper said with a sympathetic frown, "Not you, too."

Harley looked over at Pepper, "Are you sick?" he asked her.

Pepper nodded, "Looks like we both are, kiddo," she told him.

"That's lousy," Harley moped.

"It is indeed," Pepper agreed, "Being sick's no fun."

Harley surveyed the room with a forlorn expression on his face, "I guess I'll go back to bed," he said quietly.

"Hey," Pepper called him back, "Where do you think you're going? You're welcome to get in bed with me, sweetheart. I'd love some company."

"You don't mind?" Harley asked, tentatively hopeful.

"Of course I don't mind," Pepper said kindly, "And maybe, if we're lucky," she shot a crafty look in Tony's direction, "Someone might be willing to take very good care of us."

Harley gave Tony a pleading look. Tony, in turn, sighed loudly and shoved Harley gently towards the bed, "Get over there," he said with gruff fondness, "But you know, that means this room is officially quarantined until further notice."

"I can live with that," Pepper said.

"Yeah, I bet you can," Tony grumbled, "Well, just call if you need anything. Or, y'know, tell JARVIS. I'm sure he'll pass along the message."

Tony was just about to leave the room when Harley said, "Hey, Tony?"

"Yeah, pal?"

Harley looked down at the bed shyly, "Sometimes, when I was sick, my mom would let me have ice-cream for breakfast," he said.

Tony raised his eyebrows, "Oh, did she?" he asked.

Harley nodded, "Yeah. And I was wondering—"

"What's your favorite flavor?" Tony interrupted knowingly.

Harley beamed, "Rocky Road," he answered, "Thanks, Tony."

Tony smiled, "You're welcome," he said, "But don't get used to it."

After Tony embarked on his ice-cream hunt, Harley sighed and burrowed further underneath the bedclothes. He peeked up drowsily at Pepper, who smiled softly. "Get some sleep," she told him, "I'll be here when you wake up."

That promise was all Harley needed to hear. He closed his eyes and drifted back off, buoyed by the knowledge that he was safe and warm.