Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The SHIELD facility is a horror movie set waiting for its jump scare. Pepper hurries through the corridors, the scent of polished metal mingling with the crisp night air seeping in from the vents. The walls, adorned with SHIELD insignia and muted gray tones, seem to pulse with a quiet intensity. She glances at her watch, the silver band catching the occasional flicker of fluorescent light.

Her heart’s doing the cha-cha as she steps into the meeting room—a slick, high-tech setup with a big, oval table in the middle, surrounded by black leather chairs that look like they were designed for some ultra-exclusive poker game under this moody blue lighting. The room’s got this polished, sci-fi sheen, with screens seamlessly built into the walls. On one side, Cap is standing tall, his uniform looking sharp as ever, but there’s weight in those blue eyes—something’s eating at him. Natasha’s sitting with that perfect posture, her red hair striking against the black tactical suit. Fury’s leaning back like he’s calling the shots, his eye patch throwing a deep shadow across his face. And then there’s Bucky, his metal arm catching the low light as he fidgets, his eyes distant.

"Mrs. Stark," Fury starts, his voice gravelly, cutting through the silence. "Sorry for the middle-of-the-night summons. I promise this is important."

"What's going on?"

Steve steps forward, his gaze softening. "We've got a situation It's... unconventional."

Natasha taps on a tablet, and up pops a flickering image. It’s Tony’s face, no mistaking it, and it hits like a gut punch. His hair a bit tousled, maybe in his thirties, his expression exuding a careless charm. It’s got the vibe of a mug shot.

"Meet Anthony Stark," Natasha says, her tone serious. "He's not the Tony we knew.”

Pepper's heart skips a beat. "Oh.”

"Exactly," Steve confirms. "Anthony is from a different universe."

Fury steps forward, his voice gaining weight. “In Anthony’s universe, he made different calls. Not the same guy you knew.”

Pepper sits down heavily, her mind racing. The room seems to close in around her, the leather of the chairs and the scent of freshly brewed coffee from a nearby pot blending into a sensory overload. She looks at Anthony's image, a face both known and alien, and feels a pang of grief, and bewilderment. "How?"

"Because," Fury says, his tone unyielding, "Anthony has information about a threat that affects multiple dimensions, which is the device he used to get in here. His knowledge could be crucial. But we need to handle him carefully, and we need to get a handle on his deal—he won’t stop dropping your name.”

Bucky shifts in his seat, his voice low but clear. "You'll need to figure out how to deal with him."

"Pepper, we need you,” Natasha says.

Her face is steady despite her trembling hands. "How?”

As the meeting continues, the team delves into strategies and potential outcomes. Steve explains the nuances of Anthony's situation, Natasha outlines the potential risks with her typical precision, and Bucky offers insights with a surprising depth of empathy. For Pepper, the night stretches endlessly, marked by the ambient glow of the room's tech and the constant whirl of thoughts.

As the meeting wraps up, Pepper lingers by the door, right on the edge of something new—where the past and present start to blur in ways she’s only beginning to get a handle on. The conversation’s still echoing in her mind as she gears up to meet Tony—Anthony, knowing this is going to push her in ways she never really saw coming.

-

The room is a whole different thing—none of that SHIELD-approved chrome and tech. Instead, it’s got this cozy, out-of-place warmth to it. The table’s round, solid wood, like something you’d find in a small-town lawyer’s office, not a secret base. The walls are bare, save for a couple of boring landscapes that probably came with the place. It smells like calm, with a hint of something sweet, maybe vanilla, and the light’s soft, golden—almost like it’s trying too hard to make the place feel less intimidating.

Pepper steps inside, her heels tapping against the floor, and she freezes when she spots him. Anthony. He’s sitting there, slouched over slightly, messing with some little gadget that looks like it’s from last century. His hair’s longer than Tony’s ever was, a little messy, like he’s been running his hands through it all day. And the clothes—black T-shirt, jeans—casual, he’s trying not to stand out. But then there are his eyes—those same damn brown eyes that could broker world peace—or just as easily start a war.

“Pepper,” he says, and it’s not the confident, cocky tone she’s braced for. No, it’s softer, almost like he’s unsure of himself. Like he’s walking on eggshells. Tony doesn’t walk on eggshells around people. He’s the guy who makes everyone else walk on eggshells around him.

She doesn’t know how to respond. Her mind’s spinning, trying to reconcile the man in front of her with the memory of Tony, her Tony. She steps closer, her movements, catches the way he flinches just a little, like he’s not sure if he should stand up or stay put. It’s such a subtle thing, but it hits her hard—Tony never flinched, not ever.

“Anthony,” she says, finally finding her voice. “I—this is... different.”

He gives her a half-smile, and it’s all kinds of disarming. It’s like looking at Tony before everything went to hell, before Iron Man and the weight of the world settled on his shoulders. “Yeah, different’s one way to put it. I’m not exactly nailing the whole first impression thing, am I?” He chuckles, nervous, then glances down at the gadget in his hands, a fidget spinner made from spare parts. It’s funny, it’s sweet, but there’s something about it—like he’s clinging to the one thing he can control.

She moves closer, easing into the chair across from him. It’s strange, the way he tracks her every move, like he’s afraid she might bolt. There’s tension in his shoulders, but also this quiet kind of longing, like he’s been waiting for her his whole life.

“You look so much like my husband,” she starts, her voice tinged with something she can’t quite name.

“Yeah, I get that a lot,” he says, trying for a joke but not quite sticking the landing. “I mean, I am him. Sort of. Just... a different model. Maybe a bit of an upgrade. Less charming, though. I think they dialed that down in this universe.”

Pepper almost smiles, but there’s too much… too much between them, too much unsaid. She watches as he fidgets again, fingers tracing the edges of the makeshift spinner. There’s something almost innocent about it, but it pulls at her in a way she’s not exactly loving.

“They said you wanted to see me." she sighs, cutting through the tension.

Anthony looks up, completely open now, like a turtle flipped on its shell. “Because it’s you,” he says quietly. “And I... I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. Not like this.”

Her heart skips a beat. Confusion pricks at her. There’s something raw in his voice, something that cuts through the layers of reality she’s tried to wrap around herself. It’s almost too much, so much like Tony, but not. “What do you mean?” Pepper asks. “Did—did something happen to your Pepper?”

Anthony’s eyes drop back down to the table, his fingers still fidgeting with the makeshift spinner. “She was the one who did it,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “Pepper was the one who snapped.”

Pepper feels the blood drain from her face, her breath catching in her throat. It’s like the air’s been sucked out of the room, leaving her grasping for something solid. “What?” she frowns, her voice shaky. “She—your Pepper...?”

He nods, and it’s like watching Morgan trying to be brave after getting her ears pierced, even though she’s barely holding it together. “Yeah. It was supposed to be me, but... she wouldn’t let me. She took the gauntlet and just—she did it. Saved everyone.”

For a moment, Pepper can’t move, can’t think. Her mind reels, trying to process what he’s just said.

“I... I don’t know what to say,” she admits. “That’s... that’s unbelievable.”

Anthony nods again, a sad, almost wistful smile playing on his lips. “Yeah. That’s my Pepper for you.”

There’s a long, heavy silence between them. Finally, Pepper clears her throat, trying to keep the conversation moving, trying to keep him from slipping away into whatever memories are haunting him.

“So... you and Pepper,” she starts, her voice gentle. “Not married.”

Anthony looks up again, his expression shifting from sorrow to something more curious, almost hesitant. “Your Tony,” he begins slowly, like he’s feeling his way through the words. “He was really your husband?”

Pepper nods, still reeling from his earlier revelation. “Yes.”

Anthony’s brow furrows, and he looks down at his hands, twisting the spinner between his fingers. “It’s different in my universe,” he says quietly. “People aren’t... married the same way. Well, we weren’t. We’re classified, you know? It’s... complicated. But it’s not like what you had.”

Pepper blinks, trying to wrap her head around what he’s saying. “Classified?”

He nods, still avoiding her gaze. “Yeah, that’s just how it goes over there. People get sorted into categories based on who they are. You’re either a Dom, a Sub, a Switch, or a Caregiver, and in my case? I got tagged as a Little—basically means I need someone to babysit me and change my diapers. Yey.” He scoffs, finally looking up. “You ever come across anything like that?”

Kinda. Sort of. Not the type someone makes small talk about, though. Pepper shakes her head slowly. “No, I haven’t. That’s... that’s a lot to take in.”

“Yeah,” he sighs, his voice barely there. “It is.”

Pepper sits there, her mind swirling in a chaotic storm of emotions. Another Pepper, another Tony, living out their own tragic story in some parallel universe. But what’s worse is the thought of leaving him here, alone, in this strange world that isn’t his, where he’s just a ghost in the machine.

She takes a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “Anthony, I...” Her voice catches, and she has to pause, gathering her thoughts. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I can bring you with me. I just—Morgan... she wouldn’t understand. She’s only nine, and she’s finally starting to feel okay again, you know? Seeing you, someone who looks and sounds just like her dad—it would just... it would confuse her. And I can’t do that to her.”

Anthony listens, his eyes softening as he nods. “I get it, Pep. I really do. You don’t have to explain.” He tries to give her a reassuring smile, but it comes out a little wobbly. “I don’t want to make things harder for you or for her. I’m not... I’m not trying to replace him.”

“I know,” Pepper whispers, her voice thick with emotion. “But still...”

She trails off, a pang of guilt that cuts deep. It’s not his fault he ended up here, not his fault he’s lost and alone in a world that’s not his own, not his fault that SHIELD is leveraging him for information in return for the resources he needs to engineer a return. And now she’s telling him she’s going to leave him behind, like he’s just some stray that wandered too close. It’s not fair, and it’s definitely not something Tony would do to her—any version of him.

Just as she’s about to say more, the door creaks open, and Fury steps in, his presence as imposing as ever. He glances between the two of them. “Everything alright in here?”

Pepper straightens up, her resolve hardening. She’s made her decision. “I’m taking him with me,” she says, her voice leaving no room for argument.

Fury’s good eye narrows slightly, clearly not thrilled with the idea. “Are you sure that’s the best move? This isn’t a simple situation, Mrs. Stark.”

Pepper stands up, squaring her shoulders. “He doesn’t belong here, not locked away in a SHIELD facility. If anyone’s going to figure out what to do with him, it should be me.”

Fury seems to mull it over for a moment, clearly weighing the risks. But he knows Pepper—knows she’s not someone who makes decisions lightly. Finally, he nods, albeit reluctantly. “Alright. But be careful, Pepper. You’re taking on a lot here.”

With that, Fury steps back, allowing them to leave. Pepper turns to Anthony, offering him a small smile. “Let’s get out of here.”

The walk through the SHIELD facility is quiet, the usual buzz of activity feeling muted somehow. They reach the parking garage, and Pepper unlocks her car, motioning for Anthony to get in.

As she starts driving, the silence between them is heavy, but not uncomfortable. Pepper breaks it, her voice soft.

“Morgan is our daughter,” she says, her eyes focused on the road ahead. “She’s... she’s everything to me. After Tony... after he was gone, she’s the only reason I kept going. She’s so much like him—brilliant, stubborn. But she’s also her own person, you know? She’s got this heart that’s just... pure.”

Anthony listens, nodding slightly as he absorbs her words. “She sounds incredible.”

“The best girl,” Pepper smiles, a bit sadly. “I’m taking you to Happy’s place. It’s not far from here, and it’s a lot less... intimidating. He’s got a guest room that’s pretty comfortable, and he’s someone I trust.”

Anthony looks over, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Happy?”

Pepper keeps her eyes on the road, her tone both practical and warm. “By the way, Anthony, you should probably buckle up.”

Anthony gives her a nod, fumbling a bit with the seat belt before securing it with a scrunched nose. He then turns to watch the city lights slide by. Pepper observes him for a second, a smile on her lips. Her Tony had always been a control freak about driving—only Happy could coax him into the passenger seat. Anthony, on the other hand, seemed perfectly content to let her do the job. She shakes her head, amused.

“There’s definitely a lot to get used to with you,” she murmurs, focusing back on the road. “Hey, just to clarify—when you said ‘little,’ does that mean Pepper was your caregiver?”

He hesitates for a moment, and Pepper starts to second-guess herself. “Yeah, but don’t sweat it, it’s really not your problem. It’s been three years. Trust me, I’ve got this whole ‘taking care of myself’ thing down. Got some help.”

It’s a bit of a head-scratcher, and she can’t shake the feeling that it’s rough Anthony’s been without his Pepper all this time. She’s curious if he managed to find someone else to fill that role. “Who’s been helping you then?” Tony remains unusually quiet, and Pepper senses this might be a sore subject for him. She chides herself internally, realizing she might have overstepped. “You don’t have to answer that. I’m sorry if I’m being intrusive.”

Tony’s shrug is… subtle.

“Are you hungry?”

“I could eat.”

Pepper nods. “Let’s stop somewhere—how about tacos?”

Chapter Text

Devouring the tacos with an almost reverent gusto, Anthony acts like he's uncovered the culinary equivalent of the Holy Grail. The crumbs clinging to his stubble aren't just out of character—they're an assault on her memory of Tony.

Tony's clumsiness was a different breed—like a brilliant mind tangled up in its own messy wiring, not some dog with a stick that's way too big for its mouth. Tony would've turned the silence into a roast, riffing on the tacos or Happy's décor. But Anthony? He's just eating.

Happy leans back, arms folded, studying Anthony with a skeptical eye. "So, what's the plan now?" he asks, his tone clipped.

Anthony pauses mid-bite, looks up with a devil-may-care grin. "Plan? Well, I was thinking of finishing these tacos, maybe catching some Magnum, P.I. reruns. You know, just the essentials. Unless you want me to map out my master plan for world domination? Right now, Hap, I'm kind of playing it by ear." He gives Happy a wink.

Pepper can't help but smile. "I think Happy's more concerned about where you'll sleep tonight. You've got a perfectly good guest room, Happy."

"I'd be honored to crash there." Tony swipes at his mouth, managing to spread salsa across his chin like a like a toddler's mess on steroids—Pepper's worst nightmare come to life. "Cheers for the tacos, Pep."

She nods, holding back the urge to grab a napkin and fix that mess. Damn it, she used to do that for Tony, and he'd always turn it into an excuse for a kiss. Great, Pepper, now you're stuck in nostalgia mode. "You're welcome. And don't worry, we won't subject you to any more interrogation tonight. But tomorrow? All bets are off."

"Interrogation?" He arches an eyebrow, mock horror spreading across his face. "I thought we were past that. I'm an open book, remember? Just a guy trying to figure out if tacos taste the same in every dimension."

Happy rolls his eyes, but there's a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, well, don't think that means you're off the hook. I still want answers—about this whole multiverse thing, about what you're really doing here."

"Alright." Pepper swallows hard, the words catching in her throat. "We'll take it one step at a time," she says finally.

Anthony nods. "Yeah. One step at a time. I can do that."

The room falls into a comfortable silence, the only sound the occasional crunch of taco shells and the soft hum of the city outside. Pepper watches him out of the corner of her eye, noticing the way he fidgets with the wrapper. "Hey, Anthony," she says suddenly, breaking the quiet. "You've got a little salsa situation... right here." She gestures to her chin, fighting back tears as he wipes his face with a napkin, oblivious to the memories tugging at her heartstrings.

"Quite the disaster, isn't it?" His eyebrows shoot up playfully, with that quirky, sweet charm, and wow—he's got an appetite. The tacos are nearly history now, only a few crumbs left. Whatever the other Pepper did to make those cheeks fuller and those eyes less baggy, she did well. It's tough to compare them so much, but—for a moment, just a moment, she lets herself think that maybe, just maybe... this? A walk in the park.

How hard can it really be?

-

"Uncle Rhodey called."

Pepper barely manages to crack open one eye, her vision blurry as she sees Morgan standing beside her bed, her small frame silhouetted against the dim morning light. The swimming cap perched jauntily on Morgan's head makes her look like a pint-sized, sleep-deprived swimmer. The alarm clock hasn't yet blared its harsh greeting, and Pepper's brain, still wrapped in the cozy fog of sleep, fumbles to process the early intrusion. "Morgan, what time is it?" she groans, her voice thick with slumber as she squints up at her daughter.

"Five forty-three. It's Saturday, so no need to jump out of bed like the world's on fire. Can I borrow your lipstick?" Morgan's voice is bright, eager, a stark contrast to Pepper's. The girl bounces lightly on her toes, excitement palpable even at this ungodly hour.

She slowly processes the question, shaking off the sleepiness that clings to her like a second skin. "Are your dolls throwing a gala or something?"

"Obviously," Morgan's face lights up with a glow of determination. "A fancy tea party, and they need to look fabulous."

Pepper's lips curve into a smile. "Alright, if your dolls are going to be the toast of the tea party, they might need a little lipstick magic. Just don't transform the playroom into a beauty disaster zone, okay?"

"Got it! Thanks, Mommy!" Morgan replies, already dashing towards her toy chest, putting to shame the slow pace of her mother.

Pepper stretches, her muscles protesting with a series of creaks and groans as she rolls out of bed. The morning light, a soft and golden glow, sneaks through the edges of the curtains, painting the room in hues of warmth that gently coax her from her cozy cocoon.

The light spills over the mattress, caressing the carpet and grazing the edge of her shoulder with its tender touch. She shuffles across the room, opens her dresser drawer to retrieve her lipstick. It's a silver tube of NARS, a red shade that has been a constant in her makeup collection—a favorite indulgence, with at least ten backups tucked away.

As she retrieves the lipstick, she glances over at Morgan. The room, while once meticulously organized, now bears the hallmarks of Morgan's chaos—an organized one, one Pepper has come to recognize and, in a way, appreciate. It's a trait she's learned to understand, much like the way Tony's mess was an art form unto itself. "I'm guessing your uncle Rhodey didn't call to ask you about your doll dress codes?"

Morgan looks up from her task, holding a doll in each hand. Her swimming cap slightly askew. "Oh, he asked you to call him back as soon as possible. And he mentioned he'd be here for my birthday next month."

Pepper raises an eyebrow. "That's great news. I'll have to make sure we plan something special."

"Yeah," Morgan nods vigorously. "He said he'd be here, but he didn't say why he needed you to call him."

"Alright," Pepper hands the lipstick over to Morgan, her smile widening. "I'll give him a call soon. Thanks for letting me know, sweetie."

-

The stair railing is cold when Pepper touches it, the chill biting into her palm as she grips it. The wood beneath her bare feet creaks softly. It's not just the cold, though—it's the thoughts swirling in her mind, thoughts that refuse to let go. Anthony. Her brain, on autopilot, starts playing a game of Pac-Man where each dot is his face, his eyes, his voice, all too recent and real. The memories bombard her, relentless. She needs coffee—desperately—before she can even begin to untangle this mess in her head.

She pads softly into the kitchen, the familiar space offering a momentary comfort. The stainless-steel appliances gleam under the morning light, the countertops spotless, everything in its place. She pulls open the cabinet with a practiced hand, retrieving her favorite mug—a simple white one with a small chip on the rim, a flaw that somehow makes it more dear to her. Tony dropped it like it was a hot potato when Pepper told him she was pregnant.

The coffee beans are next, her hand lingering over the container before she unscrews the lid and inhales deeply. She measures out the beans, pours them into the grinder, and the familiar whirr fills the kitchen, a sound that soothes her more than she'd like to admit. As the grinder quiets, she reaches for the French press. She pours the freshly ground coffee into the glass carafe, then boils the water, waiting with a ritualistic patience. The water bubbles up, steam rising from the kettle as she pours it slowly over the grounds, watching them bloom and darken.

Pepper closes her eyes for a second, letting the steam rise and warm her face, allowing herself this brief reprieve. The Pac-Man in her head momentarily slows, the dots fading into the background as she focuses on the simple task of making coffee. She stirs the brew gently, her fingers lingering on the metal spoon, then sets it down to steep.

The process is meditative. She pours herself a cup, the dark liquid filling the mug with a comforting warmth that spreads to her hands. She takes a sip, the bitterness washing over her tongue, chasing away the last vestiges of sleep and fog. She's going to need every drop of it today.

The shrill ring of the intercom suddenly breaks the silence, slicing through the fragile calm she's built around herself. Pepper nearly jumps, setting her coffee down with a shaky hand before walking over to answer it. She presses the button, her voice a little more strained than she intends.

"Yes?"

"Ms. Potts? There are some visitors here to see you. Captain America is here. Some of his friends are here too."

She closes her eyes, drawing in a slow breath before responding. "Send them up."

As she walks back to the kitchen after a couple of minutes, she hears the faint sound of footsteps approaching, each one echoing the growing tension in her chest. By the time the knock comes at the door, she's standing in the entryway, her fingers clenched around the handle, bracing herself.

When she opens the door, Steve is there, with Nat and Barnes flanking him like a grim honor guard. Their expressions are serious, no sign of the easy camaraderie that sometimes softens their presence.

"Come in," she says, stepping aside. The words come out smoothly, but inside, her nerves are coiled tight. The apartment feels smaller, the air thicker with their arrival.

They move inside, Steve giving her a brief nod of thanks. It's Bucky who hangs back, his eyes scanning the room.

Pepper can see the question forming before he even opens his mouth. "Where is he?" Bucky's tone is measured, but there's a hint of... something else too.

"Uh..." Pepper grips her mug a little tighter, letting the warmth seep into her fingers as she chooses her words carefully. "He's with Happy right now," she says, keeping her voice even, neutral. "I'm planning to visit him later today."

Bucky's brows knit together, confusion and something close to judgment flashing in his eyes. "I thought... I thought you were bringing him here."

"I can't, I'm sorry. Not with Morgan here, not right now. It's... complicated." She glances away.

Bucky nods slowly, not fully gentle, but accepting it nonetheless. "I understand," he finally says. "Complicated or not, he needs people who care about him around. People who can keep him safe."

She knows he's right, in a way, but the situation is more than just complex—it's an emotional minefield. "I'll bring him here when I can," she says, her voice quieter.

Bucky doesn't reply immediately, but there's tension, an unspoken agreement that this conversation isn't over. "Just... make sure he's okay. He's been through enough."

"If you need any help—" Steve doesn't finish the sentence, but the offer hangs in the air.

"Thank you, Steve. Really."

As the silence stretches, Pepper's eyes flick to Natasha, who remains very quiet, almost unnervingly so. She's cradling a coffee cup now, sipping slowly.

In an effort to fill the void, Pepper asks, "Did he ever tell you... what it's like where he lives?" Her voice falters slightly at the end.

Natasha finally looks up, her gaze locking onto Pepper's with an intensity that's almost startling. "We've seen it," she says, her voice low. "If that's what you're asking." Her tone is cool, detached. There's a hardness in her eyes, a shadow that tells Pepper there's more to the story.

Pepper's lips press into a thin line as she leans forward slightly, her eyes narrowing in on Natasha's expression. "Seen what?" she asks.

Bucky, who's been watching the exchange closely, suddenly interjects with a slight smirk, trying to defuse the growing tension. "Don't tell me you can't handle a little babysitting, Mrs. Stark."

"Babysitting—" Pepper straightens up, fixing Bucky with a look that's equal parts sharp and tired. "Barnes, I've babysat Tony for half his life. Believe me, this isn't about babysitting. It's about protecting my daughter from a situation she's not ready to understand."

Wow, damn. Pepper's not just talking about Morgan—she's laying it all out about herself, the damn barricades she's built to keep her world from going full meltdown.

Sure, she's itching to protect Anthony and be his rock, but how's she supposed to manage that when she can't even put him under her roof?

Natasha takes another sip of her coffee, her eyes distant, her expression unreadable. Whatever she's thinking, she keeps it to herself. Steve gives Pepper a look of quiet understanding.

Pepper wraps her hands around her coffee cup, the warmth seeping into her skin, grounding her in the present moment. She knows she's not alone, but there's a part of her that feels isolated. She takes a deep breath, forcing herself to focus on the here and now, on the people in this room who have fought their own battles, snap or no snap, and come out the other side. If they can do it, maybe—just maybe—so can she.

But the question lingers, unspoken, in the back of her mind: How much more can she take before the cracks start to show?

As the silence in the room stretches, the gentle patter of small feet against the hardwood floor breaks the stillness. The door to the living room opens, and Morgan strides in, her bright pink pajamas and colorful swimming cap giving her an almost comical, yet endearing, resemblance to a pint-sized inventor. Her eyes, round and inquisitive, dart around the room, absorbing every detail with the keen interest of someone who's used to being the spotlight.

She spots her Aunt Natasha and Uncle Steve and marches straight over to them. "Hey, Aunt Natasha! Uncle Steve!" she announces, her voice ringing with cheerfulness.

Natasha's usual composure softens as she crouches to meet Morgan at eye level, a genuine smile gracing her lips. Steve, too, drops down with a grin, his arms opening wide for the hug. Morgan leaps into it.

Morgan turns her attention to Bucky, her gaze fixed on his metal arm. "Sir," she says, her tone imbued with awe and unabashed admiration, "you've got a seriously cool arm. Did you design it yourself?"

Bucky's serious expression wavers, a flicker of surprise dancing in his eyes before he allows a small, amused smile to break through. "No, but thanks, kid." He turns to Pepper with a raised eyebrow. "Why does your daughter have lipstick on her forehead?"

-

The water's a brilliant shade of blue, alive with the chaos of kids splashing around. Sunlight streams through the tall windows, making every ripple glint like a disco ball. Pepper's at the pool's edge, her gaze zeroed in on Morgan.

The necessity to leave this serene bubble and head to Happy's apartment to see Anthony—feels like a looming shadow. She checks her watch, the hands ticking away with a march that underscores her growing anxiety.

Pepper crouches by the pool's edge, her voice soft as she calls out to Morgan. "Sweetheart, I've got to run a quick errand. I'll be back before you know it, just in time to catch the end of class, okay?"

Morgan, in the middle of perfecting a new stroke, glances up. Her face, still glistening from the water, lights up with a smile. "Okay, Mommy." Morgan replies, her voice carrying over the splashes and the hum of activity. "But don't take too long! I've got a new trick I'm dying to show you!"

Pepper's heart twinges, but she forces herself to return Morgan's smile with reassurance. "I promise I won't be gone long."

With a final, lingering look—capturing the image of her daughter's innocent joy—Pepper stands and begins to walk toward the exit.

Outside, the sun is high and unrelenting, casting long, sharp shadows on the pavement. Pepper slides into her car, the cool, leather seats offering a momentary respite from the heat. She turns the key, and the engine's rumble vibrates through the vehicle. The streets of the city unfurl before her as she drives toward Happy's apartment.

The drive feels endless.

Pepper steps into Happy's apartment, greeted by the inviting aroma of scrambled eggs sizzling in the kitchen. Anthony is at the table, focused on his breakfast. The sight of him—oh, this is actually happening—makes her heart do a little hop.

Happy, who's moving around the kitchen, looks up as Pepper enters. "Hey, Pepper."

"Hap, you're... wearing an apron. I dropped Morgan off at her class. Figured I'd stop by."

Happy gestures toward an empty chair beside Anthony, and as Pepper settles in, her phone buzzes with a new message. It's Rhodey: "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner." The message slams into her like a brick wall—no warning, no finesse, just an immediate crash. So Rhodey was in the loop about Anthony before she even got a whiff. Ouch, this stings.

Pepper's fingers tighten around her phone as she reads the message. She locks the screen with a firm press, slipping it into the table with a decisive motion. Turning back to Happy, she manages a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "Enjoyed having a roommate?"

Anthony, deep in the throes of his breakfast, finally looks up. Pepper shoots a look at his—now—empty plate. "I'm guessing you didn't wake up to a breakfast-in-bed service?"

Anthony's grin widens. "Nope. I made it myself."

Pepper's mouth opens in surprise, then closes as she tries to suppress a chuckle. What's with the big smile? She likes it. It's kind of adorable. "Well, I'm impressed. You've clearly got some skills."

The contented sigh he emits is almost theatrical, a nod to the satisfaction of a meal well-enjoyed. As he sets his fork down, his eyes flicker up to meet hers.

"Hey, Anthony," Pepper says, "are you still hungry? I mean, I could whip up something else if you need it."

Anthony shrugs. "Not about to launch into a second breakfast like a hobbit. I've had my fill."

As Pepper takes his plate with a small, approving smile, Happy emerges from the kitchen. "Alright, I'm off to work. See you later."

Pepper nods in acknowledgment, then turns her attention back to Anthony. "So, are you going to be alright on your own here?"

"Pepper, come on." Anthony's eyes roll in a dramatic yet endearing fashion. "This isn't my first rodeo, and it won't be my last."

"But—"

"I'm more than capable of handling myself right now."

"You swear on it?"

His mouth twists into a line, and Pepper's heart shrinks to the size of a peanut. "I don't want you to feel like you have to come here and check on me or anything. You're busy. I've heard—I mean, I've seen it. My Pep was busy too. Let's do it this way, if you've got a free moment in your schedule, just let me know."

"Let you know."

"Yes."

Pepper's not having any of this arrangement—she actually hates it. She also not a fan of the way Anthony sounds like he's put some serious thought into it. "How about this—I'll come here tomorrow afternoon when Happy takes Morgan out for ice cream. Monday, you can come to work with me."

Anthony's lips curve into a half-smile. "Pepper, relax. I get it. Besides, I've got to dive back into the project for Fury. I promised I'd get on it if they let me talk to you. I'm a man of my word, and this means tackling more techno-jargon."

Pepper sighs, her exasperation evident as she processes his stubbornness. "Alright then. How about I drop you at the compound? At least you'll have your team. They can keep you company and, you know."

"I wasn't aware I had an entourage."

Pepper's smile... happens. "Your team, Anthony. The Avengers. Tony used to work with them. They're probably dying to see you. They'll be more than happy to have you around."

"Ah, sure, I've worked with a bunch of clowns myself." Anthony's gaze softens, a touch of acceptance in his expression. "Alright, fine."

"Great. Let's get you sorted then. I'll make sure you're well looked after."

"Oh, I'm worried you'll stick me in a stroller if I get too tired. I'm just—look, I need some emotional backup, alright? And if the big, bad monsters start scratching at the walls, I might just soak your bed. But honestly, I'm good."

Pepper can't quite hide the blush creeping up her cheeks, worrying she might be laying it on too thick. "I apologize."

"Don't apologize—it's just," Anthony says, fiddling with his fingers as he stands up. "You're not her, that's all."

Oh.

And doesn't she just... get that, wow. "I'm not."

His eyes are wide, hair grazing his clavicle as he nods. "I'm gonna go get changed. Happy had me thrift for clothes yesterday, gave me some of his stuff—shirt, pants, the whole nine yards. They do the job."

"Oh, that's generous of him," Pepper says, though a jolt of realization makes her feel like a total idiot. She hadn't even thought about the fact that he didn't bring a single suitcase with him from SHIELD. Obviously, he didn't. Pepper sighs. "We can go shopping soon and grab you some more stuff."

Anthony shoots her a look, clearly uncomfortable. She gets it. "Alright, now I'm just trying to help."

He gives Pepper a hesitant nod. "Fine."

Chapter Text

So, here's the thing: Pepper knows Peter's a bit of a different breed—not your typical Avenger material. The kid's not exactly a super-soldier, a spy, or, you know, green and angry. He's younger, softer around the edges. And for Tony? Peter wasn't just another name on the team roster. He was... more. Pepper, being the sharp cookie she is—Tony would love that her mind is a jukebox of his old one-liners—figures it's best to give the kid a proper heads-up. She pulls him aside while Steve is busy playing interior decorator with Tony's setup in the compound. And she tells him straight. She puts her heart on the line because she knows, seeing the face of a dead mentor isn't something you just spring on a kid. It's called anticipation, and yeah, she's got it in spades.

"So, yeah, basically, not Tony. Not our Tony, got it, kid?"

Peter's eyes widen slightly. "I'm cool, okay? I'm not gonna, uh, freak out. Cap said he's, like, really sensitive or something." Peter leans in at the linen closet like he's about to pull off a high-stakes heist, eyes darting around for any sign of crowd. Pepper, meanwhile, watches him with amusement, adjusting the strap of her dress. Peter's mask is back on his face, still rocking his pajamas like he's in a superhero-themed sleepover. "Think he's gonna, like, totally lose it?"

"Why would he totally lose it now?"

"He's like a little kid, Mrs. Stark. I heard Wilson say he, uh, wet his bed at SHIELD and cried for hours until someone came to help him. So, um, I was thinking, if he's not at home, he might be okay now, but he could totally lose it later. Kids kind of do that, right? I mean, it's gotta be, uh, pretty scary, don't you think?"

Alright, what the hell? They let the crying go on for hours? What kind of sadistic nonsense is that? Pepper sighs, trying to brush it off—it's fine. She didn't know the full extent of Anthony's behavior, still doesn't, but this at least starts to fill in some gaps.

And wow, Peter has no idea how late she is to pick up Morgan because she's just crushing it in the "terrible mother" department today. Pepper nods, slipping into the most reassuring tone she can muster. "Yeah, it's scary, which is why I need your help. We're all going to do what we can to make Anthony comfortable. Talk to him, but steer clear of anything that might set him off. Think you can handle that, kid?"

Peter sighs, determination in his eyes. "Leave it to me, Mrs. Stark. I've got it covered."

-

All bets are off—Peter's got nothing covered. Morgan's pout could punch a hole through the stratosphere when Pepper's phone rings. It's Peter, and Pepper's face tightens as she yanks a frozen burrito out of the microwave for Morgan. "Mrs. Stark, I'm getting the feeling Mr. Stark isn't exactly a fan of mine."

The way he refers to Anthony makes Pepper's heart skid like slippers on ice, but she keeps juggling tasks. She plops the burrito in front of Morgan, who crosses her arms and avoids eye contact—because, of course, mean mom was fourteen minutes late to pick her up. Pepper sighs. "Come on, kiddo, eat your food. I'll make it up to you, I swear." Then, choosing her words carefully, she asks Peter over the phone, "Why do you say that, kid?"

"So, we head down to the lab, right? I'm showing him around, he's asking questions, and I'm answering. Then I go over to my workstation because I've got this project to finish before I head back to campus tomorrow, and, well, I start working. Then Mr. Stark turns to me and goes, 'You know, technically, this stuff is mine.'"

"He said that?" Pepper frowns. "That doesn't sound like him. Are you sure he wasn't just messing with you?"

"I'm sure," Peter's voice has a whiny edge. Pepper sighs, sitting beside Morgan and grabbing the burrito with her left hand. "I told him Mr. Stark was... a friend. And he was like, 'Good for you. Good for you.' What's that even supposed to mean?"

"Let's not get too upset," Pepper says, her voice soft. "We'll sort this out together. I'll be back tomorrow, and we can sit down and talk things through. How does that sound?" Damage control, patience, focus.

"Alright, I suppose."

"Good." She gently brings the burrito closer to Morgan's mouth. Morgan takes a reluctant bite, her sulky expression still very much in place. Pepper's gaze softens, though her tone holds a subtle warning. "Morgan," warmth mingling with the firmness, "that look isn't very nice, you know. I have to go now, Peter. We'll talk later."

"Oh, okay. Bye, Mrs. Stark."

Pepper slams the hang-up button, sweat starting to bead on her forehead.

Morgan's scowl hardens. "You made me mad."

"I know, sweetheart, Mommy got caught in traffic. I'm really sorry, and I hope you can forgive me. But I need you to eat this, even if you're still mad." Pepper watches Morgan take another bite, her frown softening. The sadness in her eyes hits Pepper like a punch to the gut—great, she's got her daddy's look down pat. "Alright, kiddo, what's eating you?"

If there's one thing Morgan isn't, it's secretive. Just ask her about anything, and she'll spill every detail. "It's this girl Sarah. She was saying some pretty mean stuff to a friend of mine earlier. Her two moms came to pick her up—did you know Mackenzie has two mommies?" She says, takes a bite, and Pepper grabs a chunk for herself, finally cluing in that this is the first real food she's had today.

"Didn't know that, no," Pepper replies. "What kind of mean stuff did Sarah say to your friend?"

"Mean stuff," Morgan shrugs, her voice small. "She said Mackenzie must be sad because she doesn't have a dad. She said her dad took her to a Yankees game and that Mackenzie would never get to go because only dads can take their daughters."

Pepper's heart sinks as she watches Morgan fiddle with her fingers, not meeting her gaze. "Well, Sarah doesn't know what she's talking about, does she?" Pepper sets the burrito on the counter and gently lifts Morgan's chin, trying to get her to look up.

"Mackenzie's perfectly fine with her two mommies. And you've got a mom who loves you so much. I'd buy the Yankees for you. That's how much I love you." She keeps her voice steady, though a lump forms in her throat. "Your dad can't be here, and I know you miss him. I know some people are mean. But you, Morgan, you carry him with you all the time. He's watching over you—and me. Your dad was a hero. The whole world should thank him. You can tell Sarah that."

"I don't like it," she whispers. Pepper tilts her head, puzzled. "I just... wish he was just my dad."

The feeling makes sense, it's something Pepper is familiar with. Morgan's therapist, Mrs. Cohen, says that Morgan has an impressive ability to express her feelings, is above average in intelligence, and has a natural empathy. Still, she's a child, she doesn't fully understand the magnitude of Tony's actions. All she knows is that her father sacrificed himself to make the world better. The whole world was celebrating—fireworks, families back together—but for Morgan, her perfect little life was turned upside down.

It was hell at first—what, did everything get better just because her dad was gone? Why? She was barely five, and for a long time, Pepper felt like Morgan understood just as much as she did.

But now, almost five years later? Pepper's had to step up—no other option. She nods, offers a sad smile, a soft pat on the head, and watches as Morgan lays her cheek back on the counter. No tears, just... quiet. "I love you too, Mommy."

-

Pepper replays the footage of her and Tony's small wedding in Kahala for Morgan. Morgan was just two then, wearing a flower crown, carrying the rings. Pepper knows every detail by heart—Tony's vows, Happy hoisting Morgan into the air, making airplane sounds in the background at some point, Tony looking like the world's biggest introvert, and the moment she realized, what Tony really just needed—he needed a break.

They watch the footage, and once Morgan conks out, Pepper tucks her in. The rest of the day melts into a blur of chores and fixing a proper dinner for Morgan, even though she's not really in the mood. Self-reassurance kicks in—it's all good. You're not a bad mom, it's just been a rough day. Pepper feels like a six out of ten until she devours a turkey sandwich at eight PM and then, bam—she's out.

-

Pepper lies in bed with her phone to her ear, the Senior Vice President of Global Operations on the other end, her voice as steady as she can manage while Morgan naps on top of her hand. The laptop, propped on the nightstand, displays the work she's juggling. Pepper shifts, trying to stay comfortable. "We're making headway, but we've hit a few snags with the new rollout. The integration with the new software platform is problematic. I need your team's help to sort it out."

"Got it," Charles replies. "I'll have my tech leads look into it. We're encountering similar issues. What's the status of the financial projections?"

Pepper checks her notes, Morgan snuggled against her. "We're on track, though we've had to make adjustments due to unexpected expenses last quarter. I'll send the updated figures."

As Charles starts to respond, Pepper's phone buzzes with another incoming call. She glances at the screen, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. "Hang on a sec, Charles. I've got another call coming in. Let me take this and I'll get back to you."

She switches over to the new call, putting Charles on hold. "Pep, I'm thinking. You mind if I borrow one of Tony's suits?" To her surprise, the voice on the other end is one she knows well, and it takes her a moment to, you know, catch her breath. Maybe too long. The voice insists, "Uh, that’s a hard no—don’t you even think about it, you son of a bitch?”

"Wait, um." Pepper hesitates, her chuckle tinged with anxiety. "What do you need a suit for?"

"Since I'm here, I might as well get my hands dirty. It's nothing too crazy—just some backup needed, and they're sending Cap, me, and, yeah, Bucky's tagging along too." Anthony's casual tone belies the chaos Pepper can almost hear in the background. Oh, no, God. She forgot how much she hates this—it's like Tony's got some cosmic joke at her expense. He sent Anthony for the punchline. "Could you, like, not freak out?"

Not freak out, sure. She won't. She can't. My God, she'll have to touch up her grays. C'mon, Pepper. Stop it. Anthony's an adult. Well, he... is. He can make his own decisions. He's fine. Anthony isn't Tony. "I'm in the middle of a meeting here, but sure, wear the suit—it's all yours. Just be careful, alright?"

"Yes, m-ma'am. Yes."

Pepper sighs and switches the call, "I'm back, Charles."

-

Pepper zaps through channels. Morgan, in her favorite bright pink getup, sits next to her, eyes glued to the screen, expecting a superhero cameo. They’re just biding time until Happy arrives to fulfill his ice cream promise. But it’s more than just that. Pepper knows exactly what Anthony slipping into a suit means—to people, to the world. She's on edge, genuinely terrified of how Morgan will take it. When the news anchor switches to a special segment, Pepper’s interest snaps into focus.

The camera zeroes in on a familiar face—Anthony, suited up as Iron Man, speaking into a microphone. Pepper's heart skips a beat. There’s something unnervingly familiar about the way he speaks, the way he carries himself. She glances at Morgan, who is now sitting perfectly still, her small hands resting in her lap.

“—and here we are,” the reporter says, “with the new Iron Man himself. Let’s hear what he has to say.”

Anthony clears his throat and looks directly into the camera. “I have nothing for you guys, just... new Iron Man, that’s me. I’m not the old guy. He was great though.” He lets out a light, almost nostalgic sigh.

Pepper's gaze remains fixed on the screen, can’t even blink. Morgan’s reaction is immediate and intense. At the mention of the new Iron Man, her eyes widen, her mouth falls open in a gasp of awe. She bounces on the couch, her excitement palpable. “Mommy, Mommy! Look! It’s the new Iron Man!” She squeaks, her voice buzzing with so much emotion it could probably melt through steel.

Pepper swivels her head, eyes wide and glassy, caught between the sting of tears and the pull of a smile that’s equal parts relief and something jagged. Morgan’s excitement hits another gear.

“My daddy has a twin!” She claps her hands, her face flushed. “I didn’t know!”

Pepper’s heart tugs. She can’t help but smile at Morgan’s innocent delight, even as a part of her feels a familiar ache. She pulls Morgan into a hug, her own eyes moist. “Yes, sweetheart,” she says softly, her voice steady despite the swell of emotion. “It seems like he does.”

Happy’s arrival is marked by the jingle of keys and his flat voice calling out, “Hey, Morgan! Ready for ice cream?”

Morgan breaks away from Pepper. “Happy, Happy! Did you see? There’s a new Iron Man! My daddy’s twin!”

Happy shoots Pepper a harsh look just as her phone buzzes on the couch. She snatches it up, answering in a heartbeat. "So, how’d she like my big debut?"

"Taking it pretty well so far." Pepper struggles to keep her voice even. "How did you know we’d be watching you?"

“Come on, I'm plastered everywhere—global coverage, Pep. If there's a screen, I'm on it.”

No one’s around to see it, but Pepper nods with a smile, trying to temper the warmth in her chest. “So, now that you’re a superstar, do you still want me to come over?’”

“Sure, why not.” Anthony’s voice drops to a softer, gentler tone. “I kept it on the safe side.”

Pepper chokes back the mix of shock and relief his words stir up. It’s his way of saying he’s tuned in, that he heard her on the phone, no major risks taken. “Thanks, Anthony.”

“Anytime. Catch you soon.” He hangs up.

Chapter Text

The lab's got that signature hum—wraps around Pepper like old habits. Air's laced with metal, oil, and a hint of something burnt. So familiar—so quintessentially Tony. But it's not him hunched over the workbench today, basking in the glow of a screen.

Anthony's deep in the weeds of some gizmo, cables splayed out like a spaghetti nightmare. His hands dance over the components, adjusting, fine-tuning, recalibrating. Pepper takes a moment to watch him, feeling that odd sense of déjà vu. It's Tony, but not Tony—like watching a familiar dance with slightly different steps. There's a flash of hesitation in how he's handling the gear, a quirk she can't ignore. Maybe she's overthinking it, but Tony never bothered with lab specs.

She clears her throat, stepping in a little closer. "You okay down here?"

Anthony looks up, eyes darting to her before locking back onto his work. "Yeah, all good," he says, casual, almost brushing it off. He's just dialed in, not rude.

"Okay." Pepper pauses, then crosses to the old futon in the corner, lowering herself onto it. The leather groans under her, a sound from a past life. She scans the room—cluttered workbenches, tools strewn about, half-finished prototypes gathering dust. It's all painfully familiar, yet it feels a lifetime away. This was Tony's world, one she steered clear of after he was gone because it cut too deep.

But now—now the lab's got a pulse again. Anthony's presence takes the edge off. Still weird, sure, but at least it's not hurting anymore.

She exhales, just barely. "So," she says, sliding into casual, "you met Peter."

Anthony nods, still not looking up from the device. "Yeah, we talked a bit."

Pepper watches him closely, trying to gauge what's going on in that head of his. But Anthony's a tough read. "He's a good kid," she offers, testing the waters.

"Yeah," Anthony mutters, his tone noncommittal. He finally looks up, meeting her gaze for a brief second before returning to his work. "Smart, too. Reminds me of someone."

There's a glint of something in his voice—a sharp bite that sends a shiver down her spine. He's tapping into a familiar frequency that's been off the air for too long. He has a Peter too, he has to. Right? "Tony thought the world of him," Pepper says softly, more to herself than to Anthony. "He saw so much potential in Peter. Wanted to protect him, to help him become something great."

Anthony's hands still for a moment, his eyes narrowing as if he's considering her words. But then he shakes his head slightly, dismissing whatever thoughts had crossed his mind, goes back to his work. "Sounds like him," he murmurs.

Pepper nods, her eyes drifting to the workbench, to the device that's been consuming Anthony's attention, letting the silence settle between them. "Hey, what's your take? Fury's livid—imagine that."

Pepper shifts on the futon, breaking the silence with a casual, probing tone. "Oh, let me guess—because you went on TV, and didn't say anything before claiming the Iron Man mantle?"

Anthony looks up briefly, his expression unreadable. "Made a splash, didn't I?"

Pepper arches an eyebrow. "Splash might be an understatement. But Fury's got no business telling you what to do."

Anthony smirks, his fingers deftly manipulating the device's components. "Fury can manage his anger. It's not like I'm reinventing the wheel here—just filling some big shoes. Or, you know, trying to."

Pepper studies him. "You don't have to fit into anyone else's expectations. Just be yourself—that's more than enough."

Anthony gives a nonchalant nod. "Sweetheart, cute as it sounds, 'being myself' is not the plan here. If I can avoid it, I will."

Feeling the sting of Anthony's dismissal, Pepper arranges her hands in her lap, a wave of unease washing over her. Her eyes scan the room, searching for something—anything—what's different? The question gnaws at her. She forces a small smile, trying to brush it off. "You sweethearted me. Funny. Look, I was thinking we could—"

Before she can finish, Anthony cuts in, his tone sharp, quick, definitely dodging something. "Oh, really? Hold that thought—I'm knee-deep in something over here."

Oh. "Oh."

"Later, Pep."

Ouch. What's that all about? "I'll just go. Head upstairs, make some tea or something, leave you to it. Do you—" Pepper clears her throat, her nod stiff, brushing off the hit. "Do you want anything? Coffee, maybe?"

"Uh," he taps his knuckle to his nose, a gesture she knows too well—a tell that something's not quite right. "Thanks, but I'll pass."

-

"Thought you'd be down there," Bucky says, striding past her to flop onto the other side of the couch. Pepper's gaze is locked on the TV screen she's not really watching. "What's going on? He's acting out on his precious Pepper?"

"He's fine, I'm just—" She rolls her eyes. "He didn't spend the whole night holed up in that lab, did he?"

"I'd be lying if I said he did," Bucky replies, stretching on the couch's backrest. "We played this virtual reality game Peter's obsessed with. Total madness, I'll tell you. He had a blast. We ordered Thai, and he was out pretty early—got himself a biological bedtime. I tucked him in."

A smile tugs at Pepper's lips. She sighs, scratching her elbow. "You tucked him in?"

Bucky gives a half-shrug. "Yeah, figured someone had to do it."

Fair point, Pepper muses, but the smile fades as she recalls why she's sitting here sulking in the first place. "Oh great, so it's my fault."

"Let's hear it, c'mon, you've got something to say."

"Anthony," she says, gnawing on her lip, her head falling back as she groans. "I don't know. He's just—God, it's like Tony all over again." Pepper does feel bad—saying it out loud feels wrong, because yeah, she misses her husband more than anything.

But also, God, she knows damn well how much of a chronic headache some of Tony's tantrums used to give her.

Bucky makes a noise, halfway between a sigh and a grunt. She can tell he sympathizes, even with that ever-blank expression of his. "Don't pout, you're a grown woman," he says, deadpan, which actually pulls a chuckle out of Pepper. Bucky nods, a ghost of a smile almost touching his lips. "Ask yourself, what did Tony—your Tony—really want most of the time?"

"To put me in an early grave—seemed like a plan for him most days."

"Come on," Bucky nudges. "You're too smart not to know. If today was day one, what would he want from you?"

Yeah, it's obvious. Bling, bling—attention. That's what he wants. "But why shove me away if that's what he's after?"

Happy bursts in, juggling bags with Morgan in tow, her dress smeared with the aftermath of strawberry ice cream. "Mommy, I'm here! Where's Uncle Anthony?"

-

If Pepper thought she'd seen Anthony in a mood before, she hadn't even scratched the surface. Morgan's been orbiting, all wide-eyed and glued to his side, her own personal rock star. She's nudging his leg, trailing him, grinning, please-look-at-me.

And Anthony? He's giving her a masterclass in the never-meet-your-heroes thing.

Pepper's got a front-row seat to the spectacle: Anthony slouched in the armchair, peanut butter jar in hand, while Morgan's camped out on the armrest, hanging on his every move. He's scooping out spoonfuls like he's auditioning for a food commercial, and Morgan's watching like it's the greatest tape on Earth. Actually, it's a hard watch for her. "You've got more hair than my dad did."

"Thanks," Anthony says, and Pepper braces herself, it's like she's handed a live grenade to a five-year-old. "I've got more hair than you, just so you know."

Thank God Morgan giggled, brushing her hair off her face with a palm, her happiness radiating—Pepper had never seen her this happy. She chirps, "You're funny, Uncle Anthony."

"Uncle Anthony might want to reconsider that peanut butter," Bucky says, nodding toward the jar. Anthony raises an eyebrow. Bucky adds, "A bit much, don't you think?"

It's subtle, but it's something, something Pepper hasn't seen before. Anthony looks... small, vulnerable, his eyes wide and unguarded as they lock onto her from across the room. He just stares, and Pepper's unsure what he's waiting for. Finally, he stands, sealing the jar and moving to the counter. Morgan trails after him like a little duckling, and Anthony, with a casual wave of his hand, says, "Go find your mom, kid. I've got work to do."

Just like that—she didn't even see it coming. Swear to God. Morgan's expression is enough, enough to make her wonder if this—if bringing her here—was really a good idea. Pepper feels a bit ill. "Anthony," she says firmly, trying to keep her voice steady. Anthony's jaw clenches, lips pressed tight, as he crosses his arms. Morgan shuffles over, approaching with defeat, and buries her face in Pepper's lap. "She's just excited to meet you," Pepper says, forcing a calm tone despite the tension.

"Who's excited to meet who?" Peter strolls in, impeccable timing as always. He stretches, yawning, and offers a grin. "Hey, Morg. Wow, that's quite the pout. What's got you all upset?"

"That'd be me," Anthony cuts in before Pepper can even find words. "Listen, I'm heading back down. Swamped, actually, but hey, Morgan—great meeting you."

He's halfway out, and Pepper checks Morgan—hoping for some sign of recovery. Now she's just embarrassed, looks embarrassed. Pepper throws a look at Peter, Happy, and Bucky—because seriously, what happened?

Bucky's the only one who actually stands, taking charge. "I'll talk to him."

-

It's a real mess, honestly.

Pepper's tossing and turning, her mind refusing to shut down. Anthony's been on a loop in her head, that look in his eyes like a splinter she can't get rid of. Finally, she gives up, slipping out of bed. Maybe a glass of milk will do the trick.

She's in the middle of pouring it when the intercom buzzes, cutting through the silence like a knife. It's 2 a.m.—who the hell shows up at this hour? She hesitates, her hand shaking slightly as she sets the carton down.

"Mrs. Stark, hi. It's Mr. Iron Man—you know, the guy from TV earlier? Oh my God, can he come up?"

Oh no, she's not very optimistic, is she? Already picturing Tony, all bloodied and battered, showing up at her door asking for help. He's here? Right this second? Are you kidding? Pepper's heart skips a beat. "Jesus," she mutters, trying to pull herself together. "Yeah, alright. Come on up."

The clock ticks loudly—2:03 a.m., and here she is, still waiting for Anthony. When he finally shows up, he's standing there in a sweatshirt, jeans, and... Captain America slippers? First thing he says is: "Sorry," voice low and to the point. No frills, just an apology.

And Pepper's just standing there, staring with her chest tight and aching. It's not an apology she's after, not really. What she wants is for him to just be straight with her about what's wrong. But Pepper nods, taking a deep breath. "You wanna come in?"

He just nods and follows her inside, then up the stairs, no questions asked. Pepper looks back and sees him scratching his eye, yawning, slippers barely scraping off the ground with each step. It's just knowing, that's all. Nine years with Morgan, she's got a knack for figuring out what people need.

When they get to her room, Anthony stops, staring at the bed like it's some kind of puzzle.

"Lie down," she says softly. "It's a good bed, trust me."

Anthony doesn't argue, just climbs in. She pulls the covers over him, and it's so natural, so familiar that it almost hurts.

Pepper leans down, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Goodnight, Anthony."

"I'm sorry," he repeats, his voice coming out in a ragged whisper this time. "Are you mad?"

Words fail Pepper at least eight times before she finds something to say. "I'm not mad." She crouches slightly, gently caressing Tony's face in the dim light. "Do you want to talk about what's going on?"

"Can't," Anthony says, sounding so distressed that she doesn't... know it already.

Pepper sighs.

"Pep."

"What, hmm?" she replies, leaning in. "I'm right here."

"I messed up."

It doesn't make much sense, but she's starting to get it—sometimes kids just throw out puzzles and expect you to piece them together. Pepper knows better than to dig for details. "Don't worry, we can fix it."

"Not this," he yawns again, holding her pinky between his thumb and middle finger. "Not this."

"Just," Pepper gives him a look she knows he won't catch, her mouth twitching with the effort of not crying. "Just tell me what I can do."

"Okay," he says, releasing her finger. "Could you leave a light on for me?"

"Sure thing," she says, hesitating as she reaches for the switch, carefully avoiding the big lights and flicking on a smaller one instead. "Call me if you need anything—I'll be downstairs." She gives him one last glance before stepping out and quietly closing the door behind her.

Chapter Text

She's laid out a spread that would make a Michelin-star chef do a double-take. Fresh strawberries, blueberries, and bananas are lined up, ready to be deployed into a fruit salad. Eggs and bacon are sizzling away, each crisped to precision. And there it is—the crown jewel—a jar of her homemade blueberry compote, something she's been perfecting for months now.

Pepper's hands work methodically—cracking eggs into a bowl, whisking them with a splash of milk, and seasoning them with a pinch of salt and pepper. She's already sautéed a batch of crispy bacon, its savory aroma mingling with the sweet scent of vanilla pancakes on the griddle. The smell of butter melting on the hot surface fills the kitchen.

As she flips a pancake, her thoughts wander to how the morning might play out. She's aiming for something special—a small but genuine gesture to set the tone for Anthony's first morning in her apartment.

The sound of shuffling feet interrupts her thoughts.

Anthony stumbles into the kitchen, wrinkled clothes, his hair sticking up. His eyes are still heavy with sleep, and he squints at the bright kitchen lights.

"Sleep like a baby, did you?" Pepper greets him with a a plate stacked with golden-brown pancakes in front of him. She's carefully arranged a dollop of blueberry compote on top, with a light sprinkle of powdered sugar for an extra touch. "I hope you're hungry."

Anthony blinks at the spread before him, his mouth forming an appreciative "o" as he sits down. Pepper bites her lip to keep from grinning too much. Sometimes he looks just like a little kid, and it's kind of adorable. "Thanks, Pep."

"Dig in, we've got a busy day ahead," Pepper says, her voice soft with warmth as she sets a bowl of fruit salad beside his plate. "Morgan's got a serious pancake obsession, but I wasn't sure what you'd like. I went with a bit of everything."

Pepper watches with amusement—fondness as Anthony digs into the pancakes. She leans in slightly, a grin creeping across her face. "So, here's the plan: you stuff your face with these, and then you join me at the office today."

Anthony glances up like he's trying to figure out if he's just been handed a challenge or a chance. "I've got stuff that needs doing."

"And we'll only be there for a few hours."

The way his lip curls when he's deep in thought—he's got Pepper hostage, hoping he'll say, "Yeah, alright, I'm in." When he showed up at her door last night, looking irreparably sorry, alone, and on the brink of exhaustion, it hit her—just how vulnerable the man she's dealing with really is. Now, she's unsure if he's really okay on his own like he claims to be. She's unsure where giving him space crosses into neglect.

If he needs to be tucked in, will he remember to go to bed on time? Or stay hydrated, or eat properly? Pepper wants to keep a close watch on him, to make sure he's not pushing himself too hard. "Just so you know," Anthony yawns and says, "Mommy only took me along when I pushed past my lab hours. Meetings? Never."

Pepper's mind is slowly clicking into place as she hears "mommy," and she keeps her face neutral. Her heart skips a beat when she realizes he's talking about her. Her. Somehow, somewhere. Okay, this isn't so bad. In fact, it's sweet. Really sweet. Strange, too—there's something in the way he says it that makes it sound treasured. The way he bestows this role on Pepper, it feels special, something she could never dislike hearing, not ever. "Smart woman, I'd say. I pushed Tony about meetings for over fifteen years. No luck."

"I can handle meetings," he sorta... offers, munching on something. "Just, you know, not the long ones."

"Not the long ones," Pepper repeats.

"You really don't have to do that."

"I know. But I want to."

-

Anthony and Morgan don't do breakfast together at the table, but they do share the backseat of the car in total silence. That is, until Morgan spots a billboard with Tony—well, Anthony's—face plastered on it, it says, Iron Man is back! Morgan almost falls off her seat, pointing, and Anthony quips, "Not my best angle."

-

He wrestles with his seatbelt as they roll into the parking lot after Pepper drops Morgan off at school. After a minute of struggling, he finally throws in the towel. Pepper reaches back from the front, and he lets her take care of it.

-

Anthony's drumming his fingers on the armrest, a full-blown "get-me-outta-here" percussion piece.

"I'm almost done with this investor briefing," Pepper, still focused on her screen, picks the phone in her desk off the hook. "Hungry?"

"Has your desk always been this off-center?" Anthony frowns, crouching to inspect under the table. "Some poorly leveled installation."

Her assistant picks up. "How may I help you, Mrs. Stark?"

"Karen, can you bring up some trail mix and sparkling water?"

-

An hour in, Anthony's already plowed through the candy stash and is now folding her unsigned contracts into origami masterpieces. "Get Bucky to pick me up," he says, a bit sheepish as he straightens up under Pepper's gaze. She knows she should've planned this better, but there's a twinge of jealousy worming at the request. "Tell him I need my gear, would you?"

What's Pepper supposed to do? She doesn't want Anthony feeling like he's chained to the desk. And she still needs at least another hour to wrestle through this paperwork. "Sorry, Anthony, I should've brought something to keep you busy. I'll text him. I'm sure I've got his number somewhere. Or I could just call Steve."

"I want Bucky."

Alright, he's clear on what he wants—good for him. The text Pepper sends to Bucky—because she does manage to find his number, is straightforward: “Anthony needs you to pick him up from my office. He says he wants his gear. I'm not sure what that's about. I'm sending my driver to get you.”

-

The display shows Karen's name. Pepper taps the screen, bringing the handset to her ear.

"Mrs. Stark," Karen's voice comes through. "Mr. Barnes is here to see you."

Pepper glances at Anthony, who's currently leaning back in the office chair, midway through folding yet another perfectly aerodynamic paper airplane. He looks up, surprised but mostly relieved. "That was fast," Pepper murmurs, amused.

"Send him in, Karen," she instructs, setting the phone back into its cradle.

Moments later, the door swings open, and there he is—Bucky Barnes, leather jacket, “been through worse” clenching of jaw. His eyes sweep the room, locking onto Anthony with a look that says he's already figured out the situation. In his hand, he's holding a baby bottle, filled with—exactly—plain, everyday milk. Or so it seems.

Anthony stares at the bottle, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. "What's that?"

Bucky strolls over to Pepper's desk, placing the bottle down with a thud. "Milk. Good ol' calcium boost," he says, his tone dry with just a hint of amusement—or maybe it’s just Bucky being Bucky. Either way, she’s not quite getting it. “Nat insisted.”

Anthony narrows his eyes, clearly not thrilled with the surprise delivery. "I didn't want that," he mutters, glancing between Bucky and the bottle.

Bucky doesn't miss a beat. "Yeah, well, you like it."

Anthony huffs, crossing his arms. "I asked for something else."

"You'll live, kid. Your toys are ready and waiting for you,” he says, clapping Anthony on the shoulder. "Let's get you out of here before you start alphabetizing Pepper's files."

Anthony hesitates, glancing at Pepper—sweet and not entirely sure leaving is the right move. There's something in his expression—maybe a bit of guilt, like he's abandoning her. But Pepper just offers him a soft, understanding smile.

"Go ahead," she says gently. "I'll be fine. I've got enough paperwork to keep me company."

And that pretty much seals the deal. With a resigned sigh, Anthony stands, grabbing the bottle of milk like it's some burden he's been saddled with.

He gives Pepper one last look before following Bucky to the door. Bucky lingers in the doorway after Anthony moves past him, holding Pepper’s gaze just a second too long. “What is it?” Pepper asks.

“I dropped him off at your place yesterday.”

Pepper’s lips curl into an involuntary smile. “Thank you.”

“He was just jealous, that’s all. Peter, Morgan—it's a lot for him. He’s been an only child his whole life. Look, I need to give you something.”

“Jealous?” Pepper blinks as Bucky saunters over to her desk, pulls a thick wad of papers from his pocket, and sets it down. She opens her mouth, then closes it, her eyes scanning the handwriting across the various colored sheets. “These are…”

“Anthony found SHIELD a long time ago. Longer than you’ve been told—maybe even longer than we know. And they kept him. They had to keep an eye on him. He could’ve been a threat. I knew he wasn’t. We gave him crayons and paper in the playroom every day, and he wrote,” Bucky says as Pepper’s eyes and hands roam over the notes, landing on words like “mommy” and “sad.” She feels a tight knot in her chest. “We convinced Fury to call you when Anthony stopped writing. It took a week—Fury still thought it was a trick. Anthony wasn’t eating, wasn’t playing. What I’m saying here is, he’s going to push you away sometimes and crave your attention while doing it. It might not make sense, but he’s just a kid. A kid who’s missing his mom. You think he will make any effort to make sense?”

He leaves Pepper to it, her thumb scrolling to a note with particularly wobbly handwriting: “They don’t leave lights on at night come pick me up.”

Then another: “Mommy I know you're busy with your Tony but I was wondering when you could come and pick me up.”

Pepper will—oh no, Pepper is going to throw up.

How could they—how could they keep this from her like this? Why would they?

More notes come into her line of sight:

“Mommy I’m mad at you.”

“I miss you, Mommy. I’m not really mad.”

“Fury is nice, but I wanna go home!”

“Uncle Rhodey doesn’t believe me. I know he doesn’t. He thinks I’m lying. Mommy, do you think I’m lying?”

“They told me to fix it but I don’t know how to fix it!”

Chapter Text

"Age regression is a coping mechanism," Grace begins, therapy-toned, a PhD in being unflappable. "It's when someone reverts to a younger state of mind, often because they're trying to escape overwhelming emotions or stress. It's like... slipping back into a time when things were simpler, more manageable. Think of it as a form of self-protection. The mind seeks refuge in memories of a time when it felt safer, in control, or more loved."

"Oh. Makes sense." Pepper nods, sitting across from her, trying to play it cool, but the way her fingers are twisted together says otherwise.

Grace tilts her head, like she's trying to crack the code. The question she just lobbed—what do you know about age regression—hangs in the air. Pepper's face flushes; yeah, she could've been clearer. Grace doesn't skip a beat. "Even the most high-functioning, successful types hit a wall where life just overloads the system."

"I mean, it's just... someone I know. I realize this is sensitive, and you're probably used to dealing with all sorts of confidential matters with the team—honestly, I can't even imagine. The thing is, I feel like I'm sharing stuff that isn't really mine to share. But I could learn from you. I've done some research, but..." Pepper looks down at her hands, her voice trailing off. The silence stretches. "So, this just... happens? Without them even realizing it?"

"Sometimes," Grace replies, her tone gentle. "It can be triggered by a specific event, something that stirs up old emotions, or it can build up over time, gradually pulling someone into that state. "It's not something they actively choose. That's what makes it so complex. The person isn't choosing to regress—they're slipping into it, almost like a survival instinct."

Pepper shifts in her seat, her fingers loosening. "So, it's not something they can control?"

"Not easily," Grace admits. "It's a deeply ingrained response, often tied to unresolved feelings or traumas from their past. Therapy can help bring awareness to it, give them tools to manage it, but it takes time. The goal is to understand what triggers the regression and work through those underlying issues."

Pepper nods again, her expression thoughtful. "I see."

Grace watches her closely, waiting for her to continue. When Pepper stays silent, she offers a small, reassuring smile. "It's not something to be afraid of, Pepper. It's just another part of how our minds work—how we cope with the challenges we face."

Pepper looks up, meeting Grace's eyes. There's a hint of vulnerability there, something she rarely shows. "Challenges..." she echoes, as if testing the word on her tongue. "With this person, I think it might be a little different."

"Different how, exactly?"

Tears well up in Pepper's eyes, and she uses the pad of her thumb to brush them away, managing a smile. "I don't know, it just is. He's not from around here. Being the way he is—it's not a coping mechanism, it's different. And Grace, sometimes—like, he's been here for maybe two months? And sometimes he'll look at me, and the way he does it, I can tell he sees me as this," Pepper hesitates, part of her scared of the type of judgment she'd not have the patience to deal with. The type that would never come from her therapist—for God's sake, Pepper. "This person who seems to be able to fix just about anything. You know? The only one who's ever trusted me this much is Morgan. Does that make sense?"

"It makes perfect sense, Pepper," Grace says gently, her voice layered with understanding. "Age-regressors often search for a sense of safety and stability in their environment. This usually leads them to seek out someone they can trust completely."

"Yes, I see," Pepper nods, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly, but the thoughtful frown still creases her brow. "But how? How can I... help?"

"Caregivers play a crucial role," Grace continues, her tone measured and careful. "They become the anchor, the person who provides that sense of safety and support. And it's not just about practical care—it's about emotional security. It's a role that carries a lot of weight."

Pepper shifts in her seat again, her hands resting in her lap, fingers loosely entwined.

"And Pepper," Grace says, leaning forward slightly, "I wonder if it's possible that what you're feeling isn't just about this person you're talking about—but also about you. Maybe you're projecting some of those feelings. You've been a caregiver for Morgan, right? Providing her with love and security. Is it possible that you see some of those same responsibilities when you look at him? That maybe you're feeling the need to take care of him, to protect him, in the same way?"

Pepper's eyes widen a fraction.

She's quiet, her gaze dropping to the floor as she processes. "I don't know," Pepper admits, her voice barely above a whisper. She looks up, meeting Grace's patient eyes. "I hadn't thought about it like that. But... maybe you're right. It's just, with Morgan, it's so clear. She's my daughter. I've always known it was my responsibility to take care of her. But with him, it's... it's different."

Grace nods, allowing Pepper to sit with her thoughts. "It's completely normal to feel conflicted, but it's important to recognize that these feelings are valid."

"I'll need to think about that," Pepper says, her voice firmer now.

Grace smiles gently. "Take your time, Pepper. These are complicated feelings, and it's okay to take a step back and reflect on them."

-

It's Christmas, and there's no time for reflection.

The Compound is starting to feel overcrowded, with Peter on his break, and Pepper, who can't bring herself to ask Anthony to spend Christmas at her place, knowing how much he's enjoying it there. On the other hand, Morgan is absolutely loving it. Two weeks with her favorite aunts and uncles, plus endless hiding spots to keep Pepper on her toes—just enough to drive her a little crazy.

Pepper barely glances up from her mug as she addresses the room. "Anyone seen Morgan?" She casts a quick look at Natasha, who's comfortably perched in the armchair, painting her toenails red, and shakes her head at the lack of a response. Pepper sighs, taking in her own satin pajama pants with a hint of self-disapproval. She then turns her attention to Sam and the random person next to him—someone she's pretty sure she's never laid eyes on before. "Morning, by the way" she adds, her tone deceptively light. "If you guys happen to spot a three-foot-tall terror in Spider-Man pajamas and pigtails, I'd appreciate you letting me know."

"Haven't seen her, but I'll keep an eye out," still focused on her toenails. The stranger beside Sam mumbles something about not knowing who Morgan is, and Pepper offers a polite smile, out of habit—not necessity.

"Thanks, everyone," she says, her tone brisk as she turns on her heel, heading towards the kitchen. The countertops catch the morning light just right, casting a dull shine across the room, and the scent of fresh coffee hangs in the air. Pepper's eyes scan the room quickly.

As she rounds the counter, she spots Bucky leaning casually against it, a mug in hand. He lifts his gaze, blue eyes meeting hers, and there's a barely-there smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Morning, Pepper," he greets, his voice low and smooth. "Looking for something—or someone?"

"Morning, Bucky," Pepper replies, her attention more on the nooks and crannies around the kitchen than on him. She opens a few of the lower cabinets, checking inside for any sign of her daughter. "Morgan again. Have you seen her?"

Bucky takes a slow sip of his coffee. "Can't say I have. But, if I were Morgan, I'd be somewhere that gives me a good vantage point—like maybe the pantry? Plenty of good hiding spots there."

Pepper straightens up, giving Bucky a grateful nod. "Thanks, I'll check there next. Do you know who that guy is?"

"What guy?"

"The one on the couch."

"I haven't seen any guy."

"Blond, blue eyes. Looks like Steve, actually. I just wanted to check if he's someone who's supposed to be up here."

She opens the pantry door, peering inside. "Morgan?" she calls softly, hoping for a small giggle or the sound of tiny feet shuffling, but the space is empty. Pepper's shoulders sag slightly. *Alright, where else could she be?*

As she walks past the kitchen again, Bucky grabs the empty mug from her hand. Pepper bumps her arm against the corner of the kitchen counter as she steps forward, wincing as the pain radiates through her skin. Bucky catches her little groan, then places his cool metal hand gently on the spot where she hurt herself. "Looks like you're out of luck. Let's go. I'll help you find her."

"You know, something's bothering me. I asked FRIDAY, and apparently, Anthony's been holed up in the lab since four in the morning."

"That's... not really like him at all," Bucky says.

Pepper agrees, "I know."

"We'll head over there and talk to him. Maybe Morgan's there."

-

Morgan is there, attempting to feed Dum-E a cookie while Anthony is engrossed in showing a holographic display to a blonde girl Pepper isn't familiar with. The holo displays a sketch of a new suit with round glasses. Pepper approaches, gives Anthony a quick kiss on the cheek.

The girl, glancing shyly at her feet, looks up as Pepper asks, "So, who's your new friend here?"

"Oh," Anthony says, taking a moment as if rummaging through his memories. "Sue."

"Susan Storm, ma'am. My brother and I are joining the Avengers. We got here this morning."

Pepper studies her with a curious gaze, a bit like she's examining a little bug, though she's not quite sure why. Bucky steps up, extending his hand for a shake. "Coworkers then. Welcome," he says with a, well, charm. "Anthony's already showing you around, huh?"

"I wanted to show her my prototype," Anthony half-whispers to Pepper, who grins with pride. "She can be invisible."

"That's awesome, isn't it?" Pepper says, glancing down as Morgan bumps into her leg. She quickly scoops her up into her arms. "Is that what you've been working on since early this morning? Your new suit?"

"Think so," he shrugs. "Sure."

Pepper considers pushing the issue but decides against it. Meanwhile, Morgan whistles with her fingers in her mouth, a trick she learned from Sam. Bucky glances up from where he's leaning on his elbow and totally flirting with Susan. "Uncle Bucky, can you make me pancakes, please?" Morgan asks. Bucky steps closer to Pepper, pulling Morgan over his arm and then behind his back. Morgan giggles. "No, mommy, save me. Where is he taking me?"

Pepper is so used to this by now that she doesn't even flinch. She turns her gaze back to Anthony, who's biting the inside of his cheek. Pepper knows exactly what that means. "Do you want pancakes too, honey?"

Anthony's eyes flash with... something.

"Come on," she encourages.

"Can Sue come too?"

Pepper nods. "Sue is welcome to join us."

-

Anthony finishes his plate, looking completely spent. Pepper taps Bucky's shoulder beside her, a subtle signal. "Go on, he's ready for a nap. Leave the curtain up."

It's quick, routine. Bucky shifts, scoops Anthony up in his arms bridal style, and Anthony rests his head on Bucky's shoulder. "Your Pep's getting a little too bossy, Anthony."

Pepper hides her smile behind a bite of pancake as Anthony responds, "Be nice to her."

-

Pepper hears Natasha's voice just as she steps back into the living room. “I don’t know, doesn’t seem right to me. Maybe Hogan, but that’s too much of a cliché.”

Pepper glances around the room—Steve, Peter, Bucky, and the rest of them, all there. She hesitates, now fully dressed in leggings and a gym top, ready for a run outside.

All eyes on her.

“Steve was talking about you,” Natasha adds, her tone casual.

“What was—” Pepper starts, shifting her weight slightly. She's not one to falter in front of an audience, but it’s been years since she’s spent more time outside the office than in it. “What was Steve saying?”

“I didn’t even—” Steve begins, fumbling for an explanation as he looks around for a way out. “It wasn’t about you, exactly. The subject just… came up.”

“He asked if we thought you’d be with someone again,” Peter blurts out, a little too quickly. “And then they were all, you know, talking about who they thought it might be.”

“Shut up, man,” Sam says, tossing a hand towel at Peter. “You’re going to get us in trouble.”

“No, no, I want to hear this,” Pepper says, her throat tightening. The subject has been a tough topic in therapy since Tony, and now it’s coming up in front of his coworkers, friends, and people she barely knows. Her hands are sweaty. “I don’t remember giving anyone a license to dissect my personal life, but sure, let’s hear it.”

“I’m out. I haven’t even said anything the whole time,” Clint makes a zip-mouth gesture.

“I’m not saying I agree with this, just to be clear,” Natasha tattletales, her tone clipped. “But Bucky said you were too stuck-up for casual dating.”

“Excuse me?” Pepper says, pulling her hair into a ponytail, her eyes narrowing. Bucky maintains an unflinching gaze at Natasha. “Stuck-up?”

“I heard that too,” Peter adds.

FRIDAY's voice cuts through the tension in the room, precise. "Mrs. Stark, Anthony's stress levels are elevated. His heart rate and breathing have spiked. He's in his room."

Pepper’s stomach drops.

"I'll handle it. It’s probably just a nightmare. Let me take care of it." Bucky is already pushing himself up, but...

Well, she’s already moving before FRIDAY finishes the sentence. “No, you stay. I’ll go.” The living room goes dead silent, the previous chatter erased as she bolts out.

As she reaches Anthony’s room, she doesn’t hesitate to push the door open. The sight inside hits her like a punch. Anthony is curled up in the middle of the bed, his face buried in the pillow, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. The sheets, once perfectly arranged, are now tangled and damp under her hand.

Pepper’s voice is gentle. "Hey, sweetheart. It's okay, I'm here."

Anthony doesn't lift his head, but his sobs grow quieter. She sits on the edge and reaches out, gently stroking his back. "It's okay," she repeats. "You're safe, Anthony.”

Her hand hesitates for a moment before she moves to untangle the covers, careful not to startle him. "Let's get you cleaned up, okay?"

Anthony finally lifts his head, his tear-streaked face looking up at her, embarrassed, relieved. "I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice shaky. "I didn't mean to... I just... I saw mommy. I couldn't stop it."

Pepper shakes her head, feeling sick just dismissing his apology. "No need to be sorry, honey. These things happen. We’ll just get you cleaned up and feeling better, okay?"

She helps him sit up, unhurriedly. With one arm around his ribs, she guides him off the bed and towards the bathroom. "Let's get you out of these wet clothes," she murmurs, keeping her voice calm and reassuring. "And then we'll get you into something comfortable." As they reach the bathroom, she helps him out of his damp pajamas, avoiding any unnecessary fuss that might make him feel worse.

Pepper wraps him in a towel. Anthony remains quiet, his eyes downcast, but there’s a small, fragile pace of peace settling over him now. Pepper pulls him into a hug, holding him close. "You're okay," she whispers against his hair. "And I'm not going anywhere." She feels his body relax against her. "Perhaps a bath could be just what you need right now?"

-

“All set, Anthony,” she says, tucking him in under fresh covers.

Anthony doesn’t say anything. Pepper sits beside him, her fingers gently combing through his hair until his eyes flutter closed again. She watches him drift off, her heart swelling with… emotions—love, because there’s just so much of it, and a deep, unspoken sorrow for everything he’s been through.

FRIDAY’s soft chime pulls her attention back to the present. “Would you like me to monitor his vitals more closely, Miss Potts?” the AI asks.

Pepper glances down at Anthony’s peaceful expression and nods, her voice barely above a whisper. “Yes, please, FRIDAY. Let me know if anything changes.”

Chapter Text

Bucky throws out, "Here's the deal—we're sitting down and we're talking," when Anthony crosses his arms, refusing to budge. "Come on, buddy, it's not that bad."

"This is beyond ridiculous. I mean, come on—" He rolls his eyes, scratching at his collarbone. "Pep, back me up here. Tell him I'm not putting on diapers."

It's a battle Bucky's fought—and lost—twice already this week. So, naturally, he ropes Pepper into it. Not that it'll help much when Pepper can't say no to that look Anthony gives her—"Pep's with me on this one. You've been having nightmares, and that's fine, really. Been there myself. No shame in wearing your truth. Own it," Bucky nudges harder. And Pepper? She's busy downing her smoothie, trying to keep her face neutral. Anthony's frown only deepens. "Uh-uh, you're not just here for moral support. Speak up, ma'am."

Pepper tries not to... choke. "What exactly am I supposed to say here? I don't mind changing the sheets," she offers, a bit uncertain, because really—she doesn't, and the last thing she wants is to embarrass Anthony. But she's also been telling Bucky these "accidents" can't be comfortable, to be interrupted so many times, night after night. And wow, Bucky is burning holes through her with that look. Fine. "But hey, sweetie, maybe you'd sleep better at night, wouldn't have to wake up so often."

"It's for babies," he grumbles, more pouty than assertive. And honestly, it's cute enough to make Pepper want to pinch his cheeks—almost, but she's got more self-control than that. Anthony inches closer, hesitating like this is some kind of choreography. Pepper's seen this play out a hundred times. He's got no problem parking himself on Bucky's lap—then again, Bucky's a super soldier. Pepper's workout routine doesn't exactly involve bench-pressing grown men. Still, she figures she can handle it if Anthony wants to sit on her lap for a bit, yes, she'd be fine, but he's clearly second-guessing. She subtly shifts her leg, making sure it's out in the open, highlighted by her brown leggings and well away from the table's shadow. He glances, thinks it over, and then shakes his head. "My range is, like, three to six. I'm not a baby."

Pepper figures this has something to do the classifications. Three to six—those must be the ages he regresses to. She gives him a half-smile. "Okay, listen up. Let me tell you something." She sighs. "Morgan was in diapers for three months last year. Same thing—nightmares. She was eight, not a baby."

"You can't tell Morgan," he murmurs, eyes fixed on the floor, where one of his foot is tracing nervous circles. "You can't tell anyone."

"There's no need to feel embarrassed." She rests a hand on his hip, giving it a reassuring pat. "I won't tell anyone. And neither will Bucky."

Peter bursts into the room like he's auditioning for Cirque du Soleil, flipping into a somersault before landing in the chair and shamelessly reaching for Bucky's chicken fingers. Bucky gives him a light swat, but Peter still manages to snag one, groaning like he hasn't eaten in days. "Ah, man, that's really good. I'm starving." He keeps trying for more, only to be blocked by Bucky's arm every time.

Meanwhile, Anthony's drifted away from Pepper, no surprise there. Instead of standing beside her, he's parked himself in a chair, arms crossed, eyes glued to the ceiling. Peter, ever the charmer, turns to Pepper, flashing the back of his suit, now sporting a red patch. And, well, would you look at that? He's giving her the full post-battle picture—blood and all. "Mrs. Stark, any chance you could patch me up here? Kinda hard to stitch what I can't see."

She's—well, let's just say years of being married to Tony Stark turned her into a pro at stitching things up, but it still catches her off guard how often Peter needs it, and how he acts like a gaping hole in his arm is no big deal. "Come on, kid," she sighs, already on her feet.

Tony chimes in immediately, "Can I come too?"

"Sure, honey," she nods.

"What about me?" Bucky mumbles through a mouthful of food, but Pepper just waves him off with a smile.

"Wait, no, hang on until I finish this."

"The kid's bleeding, for God's sake. What is wrong with you people?"

-

Stitching up Peter's shoulder goes about as smoothly as she'd expect—which is to say, not at all. Bucky sidles up behind her, leaning in just close enough. "You're terrible at handling zero pressure. Anyone ever tell you that?"

"I've got a needle in my hand, and I'm not exactly known for my gentleness. Anyone ever tell you that?"

Bucky sidesteps, landing right where Anthony's perched on the stool next to the first aid kit. "Haven't seen Morgan today," he says.

"She's at a sleepover—her friend's birthday." Pepper winces as she starts cleaning around the stitches. "You holding up okay, Peter?"

"It doesn't really hurt, Mrs. Stark," Peter says, trying to downplay it. "Thanks."

"Tell me you don't have another one to show me, right?"

"Just this one for today."

Pepper bites the inside of her cheek, resisting the urge to chime in. It's not her place, after all. But Bucky catches the slight tension in her face and speaks up, "Pepper thinks you oughta be more careful, kid."

"Because I worry, that's all," she explains, her voice softening when she sees Peter start to shrink into himself. "I don't mind patching you up every time you get hurt, really, it's no trouble. But last week, you showed up with a knife in your leg, Peter. I don't have the heart to keep seeing you like that, I really don't."

“I understand, ma’am.”

Bucky pulls out his flip phone, the old device in his hand looking alien to Pepper as he answers the call. “Yeah?” He listens for barely five seconds before he’s on his feet, signaling Anthony with a quick jerk of his finger. “Come on, boy, big explosion in Brooklyn, and—oh joy—a hole in the sky. Pepper, do yourself a favor and stay away from the TV.”

“No, wait—what?” She’s gripping the gauze, hustling to match Bucky’s pace, trailing just a step behind. “You realize Christmas is in three days, right?”

He glances back at her, visibly insulted, and Pepper instantly regrets her words—it came out wrong. “No, what I mean is…” She gestures, searching for the right words. “I’m just tired, okay? I’m done with all of this. I just want to enjoy the holidays, learn how to bake that pie I saw on the morning show, and... I don’t want any of you to leave.”

“It’s part of the job, Pep,” Bucky says, his jaw tightening. “Plenty of people back in Brooklyn are sick of this too, but they still need help. The team could use an extra hand.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Stark,” Peter says as he walks past her, heading toward the elevator. “But we’ll be fine.”

She glances back, arms crossed, holding her elbow. Anthony’s already suited up, but Pepper can see all of his face, standing a few inches taller than her inside the suit. Memories flood her mind, but she pushes them down when an image of Morgan flashes through her thoughts—those same eyes staring back at her. "Oh my God, Morgan's not home." Her throat tightens. "She's not home."

“Alright, I’m on it.”

“No, you can’t go. You just can’t.”

Anthony’s mask is on, and she’s trying to keep it together. She doesn’t want to say it outright, but the last time Tony left the house to save the day, he never came back. It’s a PTSD-triggering reminder she’d rather avoid. “Stay here. I’ll grab the car and go after her.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me, right?” The voice through the modulator makes the flashbacks worse. “I’m heading out. I’ll pick her up and bring her to you. You stay here.”

Bad idea, bad idea, she thinks, tucking her hair behind her ear, trying to keep her anxiety at bay. “Honey, she’s just a few blocks away. I can get to her in five minutes.”

“It’s not even close to Brooklyn. Seriously, what’s the issue? Let me take care of it.”

“No,” she insists. Anthony’s mask retracts, revealing his face as he locks eyes with her, like he’s stripping away layers.

“I’m not him,” Anthony says. “And you’re not mom.”

Pepper flinches—blinks. Then nods.

“I didn’t mean to suggest that—” Pepper stands there, feeling this sharp pain in her chest. It’s not fair. She wants to tell him it doesn’t matter if she’s his mom or not because she’s all in. Essentially. She cares. She’s doing everything she can to take care of him, and it’s just not right for him to talk to her like that. Why does he have to push her away like that? “I’m doing what I can, sweetheart.”

He scratches the tip of his nose.

Ah, no.

Eyelashes glistening with tears.

“You can trust me. She’ll be alright.”

Pepper sighs, shaky, and reaches up on her tiptoes to place a kiss on his cheek. “Just be safe out there.”

Chapter Text

Pepper's breathing is shallow, each inhale sharp and clipped, her pulse thrumming beneath her skin like a ticking countdown.

The television screen flickers, showcasing monstrous destruction—towering, impossible beasts leveling buildings, the kind of catastrophic images that tear her mind back to places she never speaks about. Her fingers twitch on her lap, too weak to ball into fists, and her legs are trembling, threatening to give out beneath her.

Happy's hand lands on her back, a warm and steady weight, grounding her in the present. "Hey," he murmurs, his voice low, calm—he's speaking to a skittish animal. "It's going to be okay."

The words barely register. Pepper's eyes are still locked on the screen, watching the chaos unfold in real time, but it's not the buildings crumbling or the smoke filling the streets that has her frozen—it's the thought of Anthony and Morgan somewhere out there in the middle of it. "Fifteen minutes," she mutters under her breath, her voice tight, brittle. Her hand reaches for the remote, silencing the noise, but her fingers are already dialing Anthony again.

Nothing. Of course, nothing.

"Alright, I'm done waiting," she snaps, the panic seeping into her voice despite her best efforts to keep it together. "Happy, we're going. Take me there. Now."

Happy's hand squeezes her arms gently. "I have to—listen, I have to keep you here. Orders, believe it or not," he says, trying to reason with her. But Pepper's eyes flash with anger, the feeling of betrayal stabbing through her chest. "For your safety. Anthony's got the resources to protect himself and Morgan. You? You're in panic mode. So is the rest of the city. It's not safe out there."

Pepper glares at him. "Exactly. That's my point. It's not safe for Morgan, and it's not safe for Tony either. You seriously expect me to just sit here?"

Happy meets her gaze steadily. "You? Yes. I'll go. Solo mission. End of discussion."

-

Now, sitting on the couch, Pepper's hands rest limply in her lap. She can't believe she went along with it. It's easily the dumbest thing she's ever done, and the regret sits heavy in her gut, twisting tighter with each passing minute. Not that she actually had a choice—Happy left her none. But the longer the silence stretches, with no word from anyone and the chaos on the TV screen beginning to subside, the more she realizes she should've fought harder. Should've gone herself.

She can't sit still anymore. With shaky fingers, she scrolls through her contacts and calls Bucky, fully expecting to go straight to voicemail. She's already bracing herself for the beep when—

He picks up.

"Didn't even break a sweat," he says, his voice casual, a little winded. "We're heading back now—got Peter with me. Your kids safe with you, mama bear?"

Pepper's grip tightens on the phone, her knuckles white as she sinks deeper into the couch, her other hand covering her mouth as she fights back tears. For a moment, she can't speak. Can't bring herself to admit what's gnawing at her from the inside out.

"Pep? You there?"

She forces the words out, though they come out weak. "I don't know where they are. Anthony still hasn't come back."

There's a pause. In that split second, deep down, Pepper knows something is wrong. She feels it like a coldness spreading through her bones. But there's that small, fragile part of her that hopes—prays—that Bucky will reassure her, tell her it's all fine, that she's overreacting. Instead, he asks quietly, "Morgan's friend, right? I need the address."

Her heart sinks, and she recites the address, voice is thick, choked. She isn't even sure how Bucky can understand a single word, but he does.

"Okay," he says, his tone unreadable. "I'll call you back."

"They're okay, right?" Pepper's voice cracks, desperation slipping through. "Tell me you honestly believe they're okay."

"Things will be fine. I—" He hesitates. Pepper's chest is like a vice, suffocating her. "I'll find them."

"I can't—" Pepper's words rush out. "Bucky, I can't breathe right now. You have to find them. I just—I can't do this. Please. Okay?"

"Who's with you?" he asks, his voice sharper.

"No one's with me." Pepper fiddles with the collar of her blouse, nausea rising. Her fingers are cold, so cold. "Oh God, I think I'm going to—no, it's fine. I'll be fine."

"Are you about to pass out?"

Maybe. Pepper squeezes her eyes shut, willing the dizziness away. "No, I'm not."

"I'll call Cho," Bucky says, and it sounds almost… distant now, so distant, and underwater. "Pepper. Hey, Pep? Damn it."

-

In the bed surrounded by bright white walls, Pepper stirs awake, her limbs heavy. Her head throbs, and for a moment, the world feels blurry and out of reach. But then, something soft brushes against her cheek, gentle as a whisper. Slowly, her eyes flutter open one more time, the harsh light from the room casting a hazy glow over everything. Her vision clears, and there she is—Morgan. Her little girl, all bright eyes and a beaming smile, perched on the edge of the bed.

Pepper blinks, her heart skipping a beat, disbelief clawing. She reaches out instinctively, just to make sure it's real. Morgan's small hands press into her face, the soft pads of her fingertips tracing the curve of her cheek like she's grounding them both.

"Mom, you woke up," Morgan whispers, her voice delicate.

Pepper swallows, trying to process everything, her throat thick. It's real. It has to be. Her mouth gapes with relief, and she allows herself to breathe. She blinks again, her gaze searching Morgan's face, soaking in the sight of her—alive, unharmed, here. "Uncle Bucky said I should take care of you," Morgan continues, her tone so matter-of-fact it almost makes Pepper laugh through the ache in her chest. "You want water or cookies first?"

Cookies. She smiles now.

Okay.

Okay, Morgan's here. Thank God. Thank God. Pepper doesn't realize she's crying until she feels the wetness on her cheeks, mixing with the warmth of Morgan's touch. Her body moves on autopilot, pulling Morgan into her arms, hugging her like she might slip away again.

"Oh, stay here," she breathes into her daughter's hair. She holds Morgan close, cradling her body against her chest.

Morgan giggles, the sound soft and light. Pepper can feel the vibration of her daughter's laughter against her collarbone, but her heart still races, the fear from earlier somehow clinging stubbornly to her like a shadow.

"It's not funny, baby," Pepper says, though her voice does not carry any sharpness "Your mom almost had a heart attack, alright? I'm never letting you go to sleepovers again." She squeezes Morgan tighter, planting a kiss on the top of her head.

"I'm sorry, Mom," Morgan murmurs, her voice barely audible as she buries her face into the crook of Pepper's neck, her small arms wrapping around her mother's shoulders. “Don’t be mad at me.”

Pepper presses her cheek against the top of Morgan's head, the scent of her shampoo filling her lungs. She runs a hand through Morgan's long, dark hair, gently untangling the strands as her fingers move. "What are you saying, sweetheart?" Pepper asks quietly. “Why would I be mad?”

Something isn't right. She can feel it in the way Morgan's shoulders tense.

Morgan pulls back just enough to look at her, her small brow furrowed as if she's trying to figure out how to explain something. Her fingers twist together, lacing and unlacing.

"The bad guys," she whispers. "Anthony went with them so they'd let me come home."

Pepper freezes.

The words knock the air clean out of her lungs. Everything else fades—the room, the walls, the light—and all she can hear is the sound of her own heartbeat, loud and erratic in her ears. It takes her a second to process, to make sense of what Morgan just said.

Anthony.

The bad guys.

Let her come home.

Chapter Text

Men in shiny suits sweep her eyes the moment she enters the room. It's predictable, really—people staring, people judging. She's lived in their crosshairs for years, worn it like a tailored dress and strutted through their opinions without a care. But today? Today, she's running on fumes and one bad decision away from flipping a table.

"Where is he?" she says, not even bothering with pleasantries. She's a walking, talking grenade right now, and God help the idiot who tries to pull the pin.

"Mrs. Stark, I would advise you to stay calm," comes the first voice, and of course it's Fury. Because of course it is. He's the kind of guy who thinks he has people figured out with his little dossiers and his surveillance reports, like he's got a cheat sheet to their souls. But no, not today, not with her. Fury has absolutely no idea how badly she wants to launch him through the nearest window for locking Anthony away for so long before even considering giving her a heads-up. Oh, yes, she can hold a grudge.

"More... prepared people are dealing with this now," Fury continues. "Anthony will be in good hands when we get to him—he'll be coming with us this time. It was a bad decision to leave him out here so exposed."

Pepper's eyes narrow. Oh, that's rich. A bad decision?

Steve stands up from his seat, wisely avoiding touching her—because Steve is a saint, a gentleman, and the quintessential good guy. Which, naturally, only pisses Pepper off more.

"Pepper," Steve steps closer, in that infuriatingly calm, 'I'm here for you' way that makes her want to scream. She's in a hospital gown, for God's sake, and she doesn't even care. All she did was tuck Morgan into bed and then storm right into this conference room. It doesn't matter that the thin cotton of the socks are sticking uncomfortably to her skin, pinching and pulling at her nerves. That same sensation is coiling inside her—worry, desperation, guilt. Stupid, stupid. She should've gone. She should've been there, not him.

"I can imagine how you're feeling," Steve starts. "But it's not your fault. Okay? You—"

"Don't." Her voice slices through the air like a razor. She doesn't need this right now. Doesn't need the well-rehearsed sympathy, because none of it fixes the fact that Anthony is out there somewhere—alone—and she's stuck here, trapped in a conversation that feels like an insult to the fire burning inside her. "Oh, you're out of your depth here, Steve. You have no idea."

"I know what it's like," he pauses this time, and Pepper can feel Natasha's eyes on her as she shifts her weight, "to feel responsible for someone like that."

"Like what."

"Listen," he says, clearing his throat. "You should be upstairs getting some rest. Bucky, give me a hand here."

"I'm not letting him," she points at Fury, her voice tight, teeth clenched, "threaten to take Anthony away from me. Are you not listening to him? I don't even know where Anthony is, or who he's with. He's worried about dragging him back to some cage and squeezing some stupid portal out of him? Want him to teach his ways? Oh, because that was so hard to figure out, right? Such a big secret. I couldn't care less what SHIELD wants. Anthony's not a lab experiment, and I'm sure as hell not letting him be treated like one."

"Alright, you've made your point," Bucky says, standing up and steering her toward the door. She's trying to hold back tears, her frown not really convincing anyone anymore. "How about we step outside and have a chat, huh?" Pepper presses her lips together, tempted to lash out at Bucky but settling for a half-hearted shove that doesn't even make him flinch. Instead, he simply takes hold of her wrist, not tight, just steady in the middle of her chest. "Come on, let's talk this out."

"Coming," Natasha says, making it clear she's tagging along.

"Count me in," Clint adds, joining her off the seat.

-

"HYDRA's got him," Bucky begins. "That's why Fury's acting the way he is. HYDRA wants the same thing SHIELD does, but they're a lot less polite about it. Don't worry, though—I'm the one going in after him."

"So am I," Natasha chimes in.

"I'm coming too," Pepper says. "He's there because of me."

"Yeah, not so sure about that," Clint cuts in, eyes locked on Bucky.

Bucky's hand grazes her elbow, a silent apology in his eyes. It turns her stomach. He sighs, long and heavy. "Look, these guys are the worst of the worst, Pep. Believe me, I've got the resume to back that up. And I'm telling you right now, what I'm about to do in there is not pretty. So, how about you sit this one out?"

Her hand trembles as it inches toward her face, wiping the tear from the corner of her eye with painstaking hesitation. After a long moment, she gives a slow, reluctant nod. "No, you're right. Morgan needs me."

"She does need you."

"Will you bring Anthony back to me?"

"Sure will."

-

Pepper swaps out her clothes, skips eating—glances at the calendar on her phone and realizes tomorrow’s the eve, and she’s somehow managed to lose half the afternoon and an entire night, passed out. The waiting is like standing next to a jet engine, drowning everything out. She distracts herself by braiding Morgan’s hair, trying to shove down the thoughts that are turning her stomach.

“Mom, is Uncle Anthony gonna be okay?” Morgan mumbles around her fingernail, and Pepper gently takes her hand, reminding her to stop that habit. “'Cause I’ve been thinking. I was kinda mean to him the other day. And now I feel bad… he saved me, and I didn’t even say sorry.”

“They’ll find him,” Pepper says, mostly to reassure herself, clipping a butterfly clip at the end of Morgan’s second braid. “Wanna tell your mom what happened?”

“He was making faces at me again, and I told him to stop,” Morgan says quietly. “I was being nice, but he wasn’t, and he asked Uncle Bucky for his bottle, and I called him a big baby.”

Pepper freezes mid-comb, her hand hovering over Morgan’s bangs. “Oh,” she winces, trying to keep her tone light. “A big baby?”

“Yeah, I know.” Morgan sighs, her eyes dropping to her lap. “I’m so sorry.” Pepper feels her heart shrink painfully. “Aunt Nat said he’s really like a big baby, and that I’m kinda his big sister now. So I should’ve protected him, right? From the bad guys?”

“No, sweetheart, that wasn’t your fault,” Pepper reassures her immediately. “Siblings fight. Happens all the time, actually. I’m sure Anthony will forgive you for calling him a big baby. But he’d never let you go with the bad guys—he’s a superhero, remember?”

“You know what he said to me,” Morgan looks up at Pepper, her wide eyes searching, “before they took him away? He said he did something wrong and he was going to make it right.”

It should add up, maybe even make perfect sense—but this doesn’t sit right with her. “Did he say anything else?”

Morgan shakes her head slowly, her eyes welling up.

-

They find Anthony.

He’s flown back in on Christmas Eve.

Pepper’s already in tears by the time he steps out of the helicopter, walking on his own two feet—one arm in a sling, and that nagging sense of déjà vu.

“They let me fly with the pilot,” Anthony greets her casually, bruises, scrapes, and scratches marking his face like battle scars.

Pepper can barely stomach it herself.

She swallows the lump in her throat, watching Anthony make an effort to keep steady. “I’m fine,” he manages, voice thick. “You should see the other guy.”

“Come here,” she says, pulling him into her arms as she watches Bucky step out of the helicopter. Anthony leans in, finding a spot on her shoulder to nestle his face. “Baby, I was so worried,” she whispers. “Look what they did to you. I’ll never let you talk to me like that again.”

Pepper fully expects Anthony to try to shut her out again, to brush off her concern. Nothing really prepares her for the way his voice breaks, nervously pressing against her neck. “I—I’m sorry, mommy.”