Chapter Text
Winter was harsher since Tony’s death. Everyone said so: people in the street, the weather app on Pepper’s phone, the Stark Industries’ scientists. The days were shorter, the nights were darker, and the air was colder. Even the snow seemed to fall only in suffocating sheets. It was as if the entire world had been thrust into mourning two years ago—and like Pepper’s own grief—this was now simply part of their reality. There was no lessening of the pain with each anniversary; the birds simply migrated a bit earlier each year and the flowers bloomed a little later.
Everyone adapted, of course, and Pepper attempted the same. She tried to stay positive and strong: for Morgan, for herself. She kept the lakehouse light and airy, to offset the dreariness outside and hold the ghosts at bay. She followed a daily routine, as much as one could with a seven-year-old, and accepted the help of others more readily than in the past. She visited a grief counselor and scheduled regular check-ins with her family and friends.
It all helped.
And yet, none of it helped quite as much as Morgan herself. Just her daughter’s mere presence—with all the chaos and laughter that came with it—was enough to fend off the evening chill. And sometimes, on the rare occasion that Pepper found herself alone in their house, it was all she could do not to chase Morgan down to wherever she was at that exact moment—to follow that feeling of peace as much as she could.
She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. But the urge was there.
Instead, most of the time when that happened, Pepper ended up exactly where she was now: sitting on the couch, glass of wine in hand, staring at the clock and counting down the minutes until Morgan got home.
Not long now.
Just a few more minutes, and then Pepper could see the very best of what Tony Stark left behind. A reminder that for all the sorrow, there was an equally bright beacon of light.
His Maguna, their Little Miss, and the new Earth to Pepper’s moon.
The door slammed open. “Moooom!!”
Pepper sighed in relief and strode towards the kitchen, checking her mascara in the reflection of the sink before dumping the rest of her wine down the drain. She smiled unwittingly at the feet pattering behind her, louder than they should be.
Two small arms wrapped around her waist. “Mommy! Can Uncle Happy stay for dinner?”
Pepper rolled her eyes, unsurprised. “That depends, Missy. Did you remember to take off your very wet shoes at the door?”
There was a squeak as the arms retracted. “Uh... yes!”
Pepper turned at the sound of chuckling as Morgan quickly retreated to the front door.
“Always the shoes,” Happy muttered, a lingering smile in place.
“Always,” Pepper agreed, exasperated. “And she doesn’t get that from me. Just wait—in a few years, when her feet are bigger, it’ll be like he never left. Mud across the floors, tech spread everywhere…”
Happy’s gaze flickered knowingly to the open wine bottle. “Christmas blues already, huh?”
Pepper shrugged, her smile warm but tired. “Something like that.”
“Are the Barton’s—”
He broke off as Morgan returned, sliding across the floorboards in her socks.
“Shoes off!” she announced proudly, pinning her mother with a look. “Now can Uncle Happy stay for dinner?”
Pepper arched an eyebrow, despite the three bowls already waiting in the fridge. “Well, that’s up to him.”
Morgan spun around eagerly. “You’ll stay, won't you?”
He looked questioningly at Pepper. “Is there enough?”
“There’s always enough.”
Happy pretended to think. “Hmm, well, I do have to… alright, I’ll stay.”
Morgan whooped. “Yes!! Okay, wait here, I’ll set the table!”
She ran towards the bench and Happy tilted his head at Pepper. “That she gets from you.”
Pepper quirked an eyebrow. “The ability to perform domestic tasks?”
Happy spluttered. “No! That’s not what I—”
Pepper laughed. “I’m messing with you. But you’re right: the gift of forethought, the concept of a dinner time? Tony could never.”
Pepper watched as Happy pierced another piece of food. “And what is this strange—”
“Uncle Happy,” Morgan said, rolling her eyes. “You know what that is. It’s an edamame bean.”
“Right.” He stared at the bean in mock suspicion. “And are we sure it’s edible?”
"Yes," Morgan replied, drawing out the word. “It’s a legume. They’re good for you.”
He frowned at her half-seriously. “What did you just call it?”
“A legume. Mum says they’re good for you.”
He shook his head at her, bewildered. “You know, I’ve never met a kid your age that knows so much about sushi food.”
Morgan giggled as Pepper mouthed the words ‘sushi food?’ across the table. Happy shrugged good-naturedly; Pepper suppressed a small smile.
“It’s not sushi,” Morgan said.
“Rabbit food, then.”
“Uncle Happy! It’s a poke bowl. With salmon. Rabbits don’t eat salmon.”
“Most seven year olds don’t eat salmon, either,” Happy pointed out.
“Well, I’m not most seven year olds,” Morgan replied haughtily, struggling with her chopsticks. “Am I?”
"Definitely not,” Pepper agreed. She wondered at what point she should pull out the forks. “So, how was boxing today? Did Happy show you any new moves?”
“No,” Morgan said, finally picking up an elusive piece of avocado. “But we worked on my roundhouse kick.”
“You’ve improved a lot,” Happy told her. “A bit less height, and a bit more power, and you’ll be good to go. Practice makes perfect, right?”
Morgan nodded enthusiastically, then glanced sheepishly at Pepper. “And I promise not to break any more vases while practising.”
“Oh really?” Pepper asked dryly. “And do you think you can keep that promise?”
“Um… I can try.”
Pepper rolled her eyes as Happy snorted.
“At least you’re honest, kid.”
“Right…” Pepper decided it was best to just change the topic entirely. "Did anything else exciting happen? Maybe something a little less-destructive?”
“Um…” Morgan tilted her head, considering. “The boy was there again. I heard—”
“The boy?” Happy leaned forwards. “What boy? There’s no boys. You’re too young for boys.”
“Relax, Happy,” Pepper said, rolling her eyes. She did not envy the first person to go on a date with Morgan. “It’s just a boy that visits Tony’s memorial, right Morgan?”
Morgan nodded. “He’s always there on Saturdays.”
“Every week?” Happy asked.
“Yes,” Morgan stressed. “He’s there when we walk past. Every week.”
Happy frowned. “But how do you know it’s the same boy?”
“Because he always wears the same jumper and jeans,” Morgan said, starting to sound frustrated. Pepper knew why: Morgan rarely threw tantrums, but when she did, it was always something to do with Tony. “And he always leaves flowers. It’s nice. He’s being nice. I know it’s the same person, Uncle Happy. I see him there every week.”
“Okay, okay,” Happy said, glancing at Pepper, slightly alarmed. “I believe you, kiddo. I’m sorry. You know I have to ask questions sometimes. It’s my job to keep you safe. And I didn’t know about the boy at the memorial—”
“Peter,” Morgan interrupted him, staring down at her food. She poked at a few grains of rice. “His name is Peter. He said it into the phone today. I heard him. That’s the exciting thing that happened.”
Pepper nodded slowly, choosing her words carefully. “That is exciting. Now we can stop calling him Memorial Boy.”
Morgan perked up instantly. “That’s what I thought, too! And Memorial Boy wasn’t a very good nickname anyway.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Pepper replied, shaking her head as Happy mouthed the name ‘Memorial Boy?’ back at her. A fitting revenge, she supposed. “Nicknames are definitely more your specialty.”
“And Uncle Rhodey’s,” Morgan agreed. “He’s pretty good at them too.”
“Well, maybe you can consult with him about it next weekend,” Pepper said. As always, she neglected to inform her daughter that Rhodey’s newfound love for nicknames was something of a recent development. “We’re both coming to your competition, remember?”
“I remember,” Morgan replied. She beamed, her usual brightness returning. “And then you can see my kicking without worrying about the vases.”
Pepper let out an unexpected chuckle. She turned to Happy and raised an eyebrow. “Is she this cheeky with you as well?”
“Honestly?” Happy asked, setting down his chopsticks. He gave her a wry grin. “She’s this cheeky with everyone.”
After tucking an exhausted—yet still unwilling—Morgan into bed, Pepper walked back into the living room to find Happy sitting bolt upright, looking far more awake than when she’d left him. And unfortunately, far more awake than Pepper currently felt.
It could only mean one thing.
With a resigned sigh, she crossed the open-plan living and dining space to collapse on the couch. “Out with it.”
Predictably, Happy frowned. “The kid. The one at the memorial. Paul.”
“Peter,” Pepper corrected. “What about him?”
“I don’t like it.”
“Happy—”
“He’s there every week,” Happy said. “Every week, Pepper.”
“Yes, thank you,” Pepper said dryly. “I’m well aware of that. I hear it enough from Morgan, I don’t need to hear it from you too.”
“You don’t find that concerning?”
Pepper arched an eyebrow. “A lot of people visit Tony’s memorial every week.”
His frown deepened. “At the same time we do?”
“There’s many possible reasons for that,” Pepper said, suppressing an eyeroll. “He could work or live nearby, or go to college around the corner…”
“Always wearing the same clothes?” Happy asked, unimpressed.
“Maybe it’s his favorite hoodie? Or maybe he only owns one?” She shook her head. “Again, there’s a lot of potential explanations.”
“Fine,” Happy relented. “Then what about why only Morgan has noticed him? As if he’s strategically positioning himself so I don’t see him.”
“Or you just avoid looking at the memorial the same way I do,” Pepper said, eyes flicking towards him pointedly.
Happy ignored her and leaned forwards, bracing his elbows against his knees. “He could be a threat, Pepper.”
“Maybe,” Pepper said. “But I don’t think he is.”
“Why?”
She sighed again. “I don’t know? Mother’s intuition? Or the fact that, as you said, he wears the same clothes every week, and if he was a threat, he probably wouldn’t be doing that.”
“He could just be an idiot.”
“He could be,” Pepper conceded. “But if he is, then I don’t really think we have anything to worry about.”
He continued to stare at her and Pepper finally rolled her eyes. “Happy, you can’t investigate every person that looks at one of us funny. I understand the instinct, I really do, but right now, he’s just someone visiting Iron Man’s memorial once a week. And I think Tony would be pretty annoyed if you scared away one of his biggest fans.”
Happy’s mouth twitched. “He’d be pissed.”
“Yeah, he would be.”
There was a pause, and then Happy slumped backwards.
“Fine,” he grumbled. “But I’ll be watching him from now on, and if he makes even the slightest move…”
“Then you can send your entire security team after him,” Pepper said. “But for now, leave him alone.”
Her thoughts shifted to Morgan, hopefully asleep upstairs.
“Besides.” Pepper gestured towards the ceiling. “I think it’s good for her, to see how much he mattered to people.”
Happy huffed. “Yeah, well, I can’t argue with that.” He stood reluctantly, slipping his phone into his pocket. “Also, are we meant to believe she actually overheard him? Are we sure she didn’t hack his phone or something?”
Pepper followed him back to the front door. “She’s seven, Happy.”
“Yeah, and?”
Pepper thought of her daughter’s ever-growing collection of technology upstairs; of what Tony was capable of at that age.
“...I have no idea.”
“That’s what I thought.” Happy opened the door, shaking his head. “I’ll talk to the others about Christmas and let you know. I assume it’ll be the same as last year.”
“Sure,” Pepper agreed, more for Morgan’s benefit than her own.
One stiff hug later, the two waved goodbye. Pepper stood watching as Happy’s car pulled away from the cabin, its headlights dancing across the surface of the lake. Almost in spite of herself, she smiled softly, the cool night air brushing gently against her skin.
[11:42PM] Tony's Favorite Chilli: Morgan and Happy practiced her roundhouse kick today
[11:43PM] Tony's Favorite Chilli: She promised to ‘try’ not to break anymore vases—devastating for you, I know
[11:45PM] Tony's Favorite Chilli: She also told Happy about Memorial Boy, which went about as well as you’d expect
[11:46PM] Tony's Favorite Chilli: His name is Peter, by the way
[11:46PM] Tony's Favorite Chilli: Morgan found out somehow
[11:47PM] Tony's Favorite Chilli: She’s so like you sometimes, in all the best ways
[12:02AM] Tony's Favorite Chilli: I miss you
The next time Pepper woke, she was clammy and covered in sweat. She blamed Happy for the nightmares, for shattering her fragile semblance of mental peace. Usually, the mere mention of something happening to Morgan was enough to set her off, and he’d done much more than that. He’d planted a seed.
Now—all thanks to him—she was dreaming of her daughter being snatched by a faceless figure named Peter on their walk home.
Pepper checked the clock beside her bed and groaned: 4:30 a.m. Barely even morning, and with her heart racing like this, there was no chance she’d get back to sleep.
“FRIDAY,” Pepper said, pushing herself upright. If sleep wasn’t an option, she might as well do something mildly productive. “Are the anti-vandalism cameras at Tony’s New York memorial still active?”
“Of course, Ms Potts,” FRIDAY replied serenely. “Is there something I can assist you with?”
Pepper pressed her hands against her eyes, wondering if this was any different to what she had warned Happy away from doing mere hours earlier. Except, perhaps, that she wasn’t intending to go and intimidate the kid. “The boy at the memorial Morgan sees each week. Peter. Do we have any footage of him?”
“Yes. We have approximately 140 hours of surveillance footage.”
Pepper’s arms dropped in shock. “140 hours?”
“Almost exactly.”
“But…” Pepper shook her head. “How long has he been visiting for?”
“About 18 months,” FRIDAY said.
Pepper sat in silence. That was a good sign: the boy had been visiting for longer than Morgan and Happy had been training at that particular gym, so it seemed unlikely he was there with any ill-intent. But to have been visiting for so long, with such regularity…
Well now, Pepper was simply curious.
“Can you pull up the footage of him from yesterday, please?”
“In the bedroom?” FRIDAY asked. Pepper thought she detected a hint of judgment.
“Fine.” She rolled her eyes. “On the downstairs TV. I’m up now; I might as well accept it.”
Hot drink in hand, Pepper settled in front of the television, careful to keep an ear out for any stirring upstairs. Apart from her own movements, the house was silent—another once foreign phenomenon that she was now accustomed to. The absence of a faint AC/DC song in the background still caused her heart to ache, though, and she was grateful when FRIDAY set the video footage to play.
The first thing Pepper noticed was that Memorial Boy wasn’t, in fact, a boy at all—he was a man. A young man, but a man. She recognised him easily, donning the same Led Zeppelin jumper and blue jeans that Morgan reported he wore each week.
The second thing Pepper noticed took until Peter was fully in frame, wandering forwards and standing in the middle of the memorial plaza—it was his expression. One which, to the untrained eye, looked appropriately saddened, underpinned by an almost benign sort of peace. The calm neutrality of someone with no skin in the game.
But Pepper knew better. She could spot the cracks a mile away, checking for them each morning as she stitched together the mask of a brave face. She saw them bleed through at the low points on those around her—Morgan, Happy, Rhodey, and Bruce—when they thought no one else was looking. Better yet, she saw them when her own image slipped, the pain laid bare, her lies crumbling away.
And now they were here—on someone that as far as she was aware—had never so much as met her late husband.
Pepper watched as Peter bent down to place several plucked flowers on the ground, a spot of colour amongst the cement and metal. In the background, she spotted Morgan and Happy walking past, Morgan briefly slowing to stare at Peter as he gazed up at the memorial.
“Would you like me to speed up the footage, Ms Potts?”
Pepper glanced up at the ceiling, distracted. “No… thank you, FRIDAY. That’s okay, I’ll just watch the whole thing. I’ve got time.”
She did. For over an hour, Pepper sat there, her eyes locked to the quiet grief of a stranger. Hypocritical, given all the times she’d told Morgan to honour Peter’s privacy, and yet, she was unable to look away. Only now did Pepper understand her daughter’s preoccupation with the young man on screen in front of her.
Because here, in what was perhaps the most obvious place of all, Morgan had found someone else who seemed to truly grasp the cost—and irony—of her father’s sacrifice. Someone else who knew that when Tony had snapped his fingers that day, ensuring the rest of the world permanently doubled in size, theirs was cut in half.
And that was enough to make Pepper want to watch him for hours, too.
But Peter couldn’t stand there in silence forever, and eventually, he turned to leave.
“Where’s he going?” Pepper muttered.
“To the cemetery,” FRIDAY said, ready from overhead.
Pepper paused, half-prepared to wave off the unexpected response. “The cemetery?”
“Yes. He visits the memorial every Saturday and then proceeds to visit the Harlem cemetery. He appears to place flowers there as well.”
Pepper stared at the screen, now empty apart from the base of the large statue, depicting an Iron Man gauntlet mid-snap. There was a hollow feeling in her chest, a consequence of realising that this trip to the memorial wasn’t a convenient place of respect on Peter’s way home, or even something of a weekly ritual in and of itself—rather, it was a single destination on a much larger pilgrimage of grief.
“Alone?” Pepper asked softly. “He does this alone every week?”
“Yes,” FRIDAY replied. “As far as I am aware, Peter is always alone.”
Pepper turned off the TV, gazing at where the morning light gently filtered across the wooden floorboards. Slowly shaking her head, she made a decision.
“Well, we’ve got to fix that. My meetings next Saturday morning—”
“I’ll move them now, Ms Potts.”
“Thank you, FRIDAY.”
Pepper stood, stretching as her thoughts turned to coffee. There was nothing to do now but wait—a skill she had, thankfully, honed to near perfection.
Still, one more question nagged at her.
“FRIDAY?”
“Yes, Ms Potts?”
“The footage,” Pepper said. “140 hours. Why is there so much of it? Shouldn’t it be deleted after several weeks?”
“It should be,” FRIDAY confirmed. “But that can be manually overridden if necessary.”
“Right,” Pepper said slowly. “And who overrode it this time?”
“I did,” FRIDAY said. “Morgan’s curiosity indicated the footage might be important in future.”
Pepper’s brow furrowed, though she supposed she couldn’t argue with that. After several moments, she simply shook her head and continued towards the kitchen. Not for the first time, Pepper wondered what Tony would say if he could see her now—finally reliant on his favorite beverage to function.
[10:31PM] Tony's Favorite Chilli: You’ll be glad to hear our daughter broke another vase today
The week passed the same way it always did: slowly, and then all at once. Pepper tried not to think too much about Saturday; about what she was going to say to this young man that didn’t make her sound completely crazy. In all honesty, she doubted there was any explanation avoiding that particular outcome. In some ways, the truth might be—
A knock at the front door indicated her time was almost up.
“Mr Hogan and Mr Rhodes have arrived,” FRIDAY announced, somewhat unnecessarily.
“Let them in, please,” Pepper said, moving towards the stairs. “Morgan! They’re here!”
“Coming!” Morgan called back, bounding down two at a time, hair only half-brushed.
Pepper shook her head. “What have you been doing?”
“I’ve been—Uncle Happy! Uncle Rhodey!” Morgan bounced to where the two men were entering the kitchen. “Are you ready?!”
“Are you?” Rhodey asked doubtfully, eyeing her hair. “Because that doesn’t look up to code.”
“It’s not.” Happy stared at her. “It needs to be a—”
“I know, I know, it needs to be in a ponytail,” Morgan replied. “But Uncle Happy, look!”
She pulled out a small object from her pocket, brandishing it at him. Pepper watched the two of them, bemused.
“It’s a new strap for your watch!” Morgan explained, shaking the small strip of leather. “I heard you tell Mommy that yours broke, so I had FRIDAY teach me how to make a new one.”
Happy looked gobsmacked. “I told Pepper that this morning.”
“Yes,” Morgan said, exasperated. “Which is why my hair isn’t done.” She glanced at Pepper. “But I can do it in the car, I promise!”
Pepper rolled her eyes, knowing she would have inevitably redone Morgan’s hair anyway. “Bathroom, Little Miss. Come on, I’ll help you.”
“I don't need…” Morgan trailed off at the stern expression on Pepper’s face. “Okay.”
She turned to Rhodey, desperate to get in one last discussion point. “But you and I need to talk nicknames later; I need your opinion on one.”
Rhodey looked at her fondly. “Sounds like a plan, Maguna. Maybe after you’re done with your hair?”
Morgan beamed. “Yes!”
“Thank you,” Pepper muttered to Rhodey, trailing behind Morgan as she wandered in the direction of the downstairs bathroom. She glanced at him apologetically; he wasn’t quite as used to their morning shenanigans as Happy. “Sorry about this.”
Rhodey just waved a hand, watching her go with a wry smile on his face. “I already know better than to expect anything but madness from the Potts-Stark household, Pepper.”
Pepper’s eyes narrowed, pointing a stern finger at him as she left the room. “I resent that.”
Rhodey shrugged at the sound of something crashing to the floor in the other room. “And yet, that doesn’t make it any less true.”
Pepper had never been more grateful for Morgan’s uncles-only pre-meet ritual. Walking to the memorial, it seemed luck was on her side for once; she had at least an hour before she was due back at the gym.
Peter was already there when she arrived, sans flowers this time. Instead, Pepper watched as he placed a coffee down at the memorial base, turning it just so. His mouth moved as he straightened—too quiet for Pepper to hear—and when he stepped backwards, she forced herself to do the opposite.
The second Pepper moved forwards, Peter spun around.
“Sorry, can I—Pepper?”
She froze, blinking, the two of them staring at each other.
A puzzled crease formed between Pepper's eyebrows. “Do I know you?”
Peter took another step backwards, flustered. “Oh no, of course not—it’s just… well, everyone knows Pepper Potts, right? I mean, you’re Pepper Potts. The Pepper Potts. And now you’re here, standing in front of me.”
Yes—that was the response Pepper had expected, more along the lines of what she was used to. Rambling and star-struck. Not Peter using her name with the cadence of a friend.
She gave him a weak smile, feeling slightly—and inexplicably—disappointed. “Of course. Sorry. Sometimes I forget my face and name are plastered everywhere.”
Peter cringed. “Really? That seems impossible.”
Pepper arched an eyebrow at him, and he quickly shook his head.
“Nevermind.” He glanced furtively down at his coffee, then at the empty space behind Pepper. “So… what brings you here? Apart from the um, the obvious.”
She tilted her head at him. “And by obvious, do you mean the fact that we're currently standing at my husband’s memorial?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yep, that’s the… that’s the one.”
Pepper looked at him for a moment longer before deciding to put him out of his misery. “Believe it or not,” she said. “I’m actually here for you.”
Peter seemed rooted to the spot, face flickering between hope and disbelief. “Me?”
“Yes,” Pepper replied, torn between avoiding his eyes or staring at him intently. “You. My da—my friend walks this way every week, and she mentioned seeing the same person visiting. I thought I’d come and meet whoever’s keeping Tony company.”
Peter frowned hesitantly. “Really?”
She nodded. “Really.”
“But you don’t even know me,” Peter said, watching her carefully.
It wasn’t a question, but Pepper still felt the urge to answer.
“No, I don’t,” she said, the words sitting heavy on her lips. It wasn’t a lie, but it felt like one. “But that doesn’t mean much. In my experience, most of the people grieving Tony are worth meeting at least once.”
He continued to stare at her. Pepper couldn't be sure, but the light seemed to have faded slightly from behind his eyes.
“Is that all?” he asked finally. “This doesn’t have anything to do with your daughter walking past, does it? Because I’ve seen her with Happy—uh, Happy Hogan, that is—but I promise I’m not like, stalking her or anything. I’m… I miss him, and I don’t really have anywhere else to go…”
He trailed off, and Pepper’s heart broke a little more.
“It’s okay,” Pepper assured him. “That’s not why I'm here. I don’t think you’re stalking Morgan, though I don’t love that people can recognise her on sight—”
“She looks like you,” Peter replied. A sentence that, under any other circumstances, would have been deeply unsettling. “You and Tony both.”
There it was again: the casualness with which he used their names, begging the question—
“Are you sure we don’t know each other? Did you know Tony?”
“No,” Peter said instantly, and then shook his head. “I mean yes, I’m sure. I didn’t know him. I just… looked up to him a lot.”
Pepper nodded again, her eyes shifting to the memorial she tried so very hard to never visit. It was the sort of thing Tony should have loved—a statue dedicated to himself—but actually would have hated, because it reminded him just how much people idolized the Avengers and everyone like them.
“So did I,” Pepper said. “He’d hate to hear me say that, but it’s true.”
She watched as the sun crept a few centimeters further along the steel rendition of Tony’s fingers, filling the silence.
“I’m Peter, by the way,” Peter said.
Pepper turned to find him a few feet closer, hand outstretched. She closed the gap and shook. “It’s nice to meet you, Peter. You can call me Pepper.”
He nodded, his eyes not widening in the slightest, his smile not quite reaching them. Then he ran a hand through his hair, the movement casting a swift shadow across Led Zeppelin’s face. “That’s kind of you Pepper. And look, while I appreciate you coming to check on me, it’s not necessary. I know I’m here a lot, but I’m okay.”
Pepper gazed at him appraisingly. “I’m sure you are, Peter. But you’re also still young and here by yourself every week.”
“Yeah, well…” Peter avoided her eye. “A lot of people were left without family after the Blip.”
“Yes,” Pepper agreed carefully. “But that doesn’t mean it has to stay that way. Especially when you’re so youn—”
“I’m not a kid,” he said stubbornly. “Everyone always thinks I’m a kid, but I’m not. I can handle things. If people just let me handle things…”
“I’m sure you can,” Pepper said. “But you don’t always have to. I’m sure Tony would have agreed.”
“He would have,” Peter said, still irked. “And then he would have ignored the same advice for himself.”
Pepper almost laughed. “Yes. I don’t doubt he would have.”
She observed him for a few more seconds—calming down, now—before checking her watch. Where had the time gone?
“I’m sorry; I have to run. But Peter—and I know how unusual this is—if there’s anything you need…” Pepper pulled out a business card, her personal number already scribbled on the back. “Please don’t hesitate to reach out. And I hope you don’t mind if I drop by occasionally.”
Peter shook his head. “Not at all.” He tried for a smile, the same sadness tugging at the edges. “It’s nice to have company.”
Pepper’s mouth twisted, the guilt gnawing at her for leaving so soon.
“Are you sure there isn’t anything I can get for you now?” she asked.
She was unsurprised when he shook his head.
“No, thank you,” Peter said, obviously trying a little harder to make his smile look convincing. “Really, I’m okay.”
Pepper nodded reluctantly, not believing it for a second. “Well, you have my number if you need anything.”
“I do,” he agreed, waving her card in the air. “Thanks. Have a good weekend.”
“You too, Peter,” Pepper said. She felt strangely dislodged by their entire interaction—as if she’d just overheard one side of a conversation. “Remember to eat something.”
He glanced at her, startled. But Pepper couldn’t help him—because she had no idea why she’d said that, either.
[11:02PM] Tony's Favorite Chilli: Morgan won the round and broke yet another vase today
[11:03PM] Tony's Favorite Chilli: So, suffice to say, she’s a Stark through and through
[11:07PM] Tony's Favorite Chilli: Also, I finally met Peter
[11:07PM] Tony's Favorite Chilli: He brought you coffee
[11:15PM] Tony's Favorite Chilli: He reminded me of you
Pepper should have known a business card with a hastily written phone number wouldn’t be enough. Peter impressed as someone with a big heart who liked doing everything himself, so when almost a week went by without Pepper hearing from him, she knew a more forceful approach was going to be necessary. One that ideally left her looking less insane and more like a concerned neighbourly-sort-of-figure.
And that meant she needed a plan.
“FRIDAY,” Pepper said, momentarily pausing her pen’s rhythmic tapping on the table. “When Morgan last saw Peter, he brought flowers to the memorial, but when I saw him, he had coffee—does he ever bring anything else with him?”
“No,” FRIDAY replied immediately. “He either brings flowers or coffee, mostly depending on what he passes along the way.”
Pepper shook her head, her pencil resuming tapping. “And he doesn't buy the flowers, does he?”
“Correct. He picks them from a nearby lot.”
Pepper nodded thoughtfully, feeling the pieces starting to fall into place. “What about the coffee—do you know his usual order?”
“Yes,” FRIDAY said, sounding mildly offended. “A triple espresso for Boss, and an oat milk latte for himself.”
Pepper stared at the ceiling in surprise, pen dropping loosely between her fingers. “He knows Tony’s coffee order?”
“He does,” FRIDAY confirmed. “But I should remind you that it’s been reported on by news outlets at least 57 times.”
“Right,” Pepper said, recovering quickly. “Just like everything else.” She shook her head and glanced out the window, taking in the crisp winter day beyond. “And what about this Saturday, do coffee or flowers seem more likely?”
“Flowers,” FRIDAY said firmly. “He never purchases coffee two weeks in a row.”
“Perfect,” Pepper replied, nodding. Then there was only one more detail to check before putting her ordering-coffee-to-the-memorial plan in action. “Last question: how neat is the barista’s handwriting at the cafe closest to the memorial?”
There was a beat of silence.
“It’s... quite average.”
“But it’s legible?” Pepper pressed, erring more on the side of crazy than originally anticipated.
FRIDAY sounded resigned. “Yes. Most of the time, at least.”
Bingo.
[1:35PM] Unknown Number: Hi Ms Potts
[1:35PM] Unknown Number: It’s Peter
[1:36PM] Unknown Number: Thank you for the coffee
[1:45PM] Virginia Potts: You’re very welcome, Peter
[1:46PM] Virginia Potts: And it’s Pepper, remember?
[1:52PM] Peter: Right
[1:54PM] Peter: The thing is, while I appreciate the offer, it’s really not necessary
[1:54PM] Peter: I have everything I need
[1:57PM] Pepper: It’s almost like you didn't read the barista's note
[1:59PM] Peter: I did. I just don't need anything
[2:13PM] Peter: What’s this address at the bottom?
[2:15PM] Pepper: A florist used by Stark Industries
[2:16PM] Pepper: We have an account on file that you’re welcome to use
[2:17PM] Pepper: It’s up to you. You don’t have to say yes or no, but it’s there if you’d like to
[3:32PM] Peter: Do you have any suggestions? I’ve never bought flowers
[3:41PM] Pepper: Tony always liked tulips
[3:47PM] Peter: Thanks Pepper 😊
[3:51PM] Pepper: No thanks necessary
[3:52PM] Pepper: But you’re welcome, Peter 😊
[3:55PM] Tony's Favorite Chilli: He’s a good kid
[3:56PM] Tony's Favorite Chilli: You’d like him
[3:58PM] Tony's Favorite Chilli: Even though you’d probably pretend not to
[9:25PM] Tony's Favorite Chilli: Also I removed the rest of the vases
[9:26PM] Tony's Favorite Chilli: So I think that means you win
It was another week before Pepper saw Peter again, owed only to the fortuitous cancellation of her morning Saturday meeting. Once again, she was barred from entering Morgan’s pre-meet ritual, the empty slot leading to an inevitable walk towards the memorial.
Peter wasn’t there when she arrived this time—but after a few minutes, Pepper spotted him in the distance, easily distinguishable by the huge quantity of tulips sandwiched between his arms.
He drew closer, struggling to wave around the bouquets. “Hi, Pepper.”
“Hi,” Pepper replied, stepping forward as he barely managed to stop them falling. “Would you like some help?”
“Oh no, I’m fine,” Peter said. He glanced down at the flowers, a flash of reproach on his face. “These aren’t all for Tony. I bought some for my aunt as well. I hope that’s okay.”
“Peter.” Pepper's voice was firm. “I couldn’t care less. Buy as many as you like. Buy everything and sell them back to the shop if you want.”
“I wouldn’t do that!” Peter protested, reluctantly passing some of the tulips to Pepper after another close call. She finally understood why he was finding it so challenging to juggle them: a small bundle of hand-picked flowers was tucked close to his side, and Peter was doing his best not to crush them.
He followed her gaze.
“Oh, those are for you,” Peter said, blushing slightly. “I wanted to—hang on…”
He hurried forwards and crouched, carefully arranging the tulips at the base of the memorial. Then, satisfied with the effect, he wandered back to the still-shocked Pepper and deftly swapped the bundles in their arms.
“For me?” Pepper repeated. She stared down at the endearing light blue of wild chicory and baby pink ironwood, stunned.
“Well, I…” Peter rubbed his neck awkwardly—a nervous tick, Pepper guessed. “I wanted to get you some too, but then you’d basically be buying your own flowers… and I know they’re not as nice, but I did ask the florist for advice.”
“They’re perfect,” Pepper said, completely taken aback by the gesture. “Thank you, Peter. You didn’t have to.”
“Neither did you,” Peter said. He shifted from one foot to the other uncertainly. “Do you really like them? Because I won’t be offended if you don’t.”
Pepper gave him her most sincere smile. “I do. I honestly can’t remember the last time someone brought me flowers.”
There was a pause; Peter pressed his lips together and glanced towards the memorial.
Pepper almost chuckled.
“Oh no,” she said. “I can count on one hand the number of times Tony bought me flowers—or, more accurately, had someone else do it for him. No, this actually has nothing to do with… well, not nothing…” she sighed and tried to explain. “It’s Morgan. I don’t know if it’s because she associates them with Tony’s funeral, or if it’s just the knowledge that the flowers are dying, but she hates seeing them wilt. So I don’t get them very often.”
Peter's mouth dropped open. “But I don’t want them to make her sad!”
“They won’t,” Pepper assured him, tightening her grip on the flowers, as if worried he might snatch them back. “I’ll keep them in my room.”
Peter hesitated. “You’re sure? Because I can take them if you want. I’ll think of something else.”
“No,” Pepper said firmly. “You don’t know this about me, but I can be very stubborn. And trust me when I say this, Peter: you’re not getting these back.”
His lips twisted into something close to a smile. “I believe you.”
Pepper nodded, satisfied, and the two fell into a comfortable silence. A mutual understanding of love and loss, a sweet ache now familiar to them both.
“Why tulips?” Peter asked eventually, his voice quiet, as if afraid to disrupt the softness settling around them.
“Tony’s mother,” Pepper replied, also gentle. “Tulips reminded him of her. They grew in the fields near her village in Italy.” She looked at the bouquet still cradled in his arms. “What about your aunt?”
“Similar," Peter said. "Her family was Italian, too. She always missed the wildflowers.”
“They’re beautiful,” Pepper agreed. “I tried planting some at home, but they refused to grow." She smiled ruefully. "I’ve never had much of a green thumb. A cactus or a tomato plant, I can manage. Anything else? No way. I tell myself I’m better at nurturing other things.”
There was a brief pause, and then they both spoke at once.
“Business.”
“People.”
And if Pepper’s heart needed another excuse to make room for Peter, that was it.
Pepper didn’t really understand the point of boxing. It seemed unnecessarily violent, with no life-saving purpose to justify it. But watching Morgan compete still felt like something to be celebrated—especially when she was beaming at them across the room, her face shining like an arc reactor.
“She looks so proud,” Pepper said. “Proud, and… strong. Confident.”
Happy grunted noncommittally, his lack of gushing about Morgan’s ability unlike any usual response. Pepper glanced at him cautiously, certain she was about to find him glaring at some other parent—only to find his intense gaze pinned on her instead.
She frowned. “What?”
“You know what.”
Pepper’s eyebrows raised. “No. I really don’t.” She looked back at Morgan, waving as her daughter sat back down at the edge of the mats. “Come on, Happy: what major security concern do you have now?”
“The same one,” Happy muttered, his face easing temporarily, unable to resist his own wave at Morgan. “This Peter kid. The armed and potentially dangerous hooligan you’ve been visiting alone.”
Pepper wanted to scoff, but settled for an eye roll instead. “Peter is neither of those things.” She frowned. “How did you figure it out?”
It was Happy's turn to roll his eyes. “Because I know you. And I know how difficult you like to make my job. A lonely kid with a name attached? It was only a matter of time.”
“It’s not a bad thing to care, Happy.”
“Right. Of course not. I’m just saying, maybe next time, I could—”
“No,” Pepper said, cutting him off, waving at Morgan again as she entered the mats for a third time. From a distance, the girl she was facing appeared almost triple her size. “I’m not having you scare him off.”
“At least let me take a look at him.”
“Nope.”
He stared at her silently.
Pepper sighed. “He’s just a normal kid, Happy. There’s nothing to worry about. It’s not even instinct anymore, okay? I’ve spoken to him, he has my phone number—”
“Why the hell does he have your phone number?”
A nearby parent looked up irritably, caught Happy’s eye—then turned hurriedly back towards the front.
“Because I gave it to him. In case of emergency.”
“Okay…” Happy took a deep breath. “And is there anything else I should know about?”
“Yes.” Pepper did a tiny cheer as Morgan struck a blow. “He picked me some flowers, which I’ve hidden in the back of the car.”
She gave him a pointed look when he didn’t reply.
“Happy?”
He grumbled reluctantly. “Noted. I’ll keep Morgan away from the boot.”
Pepper smiled. “Thank you.” She sent him another sideways glance, adding casually, “he bought Tony tulips, you know.”
Happy’s brow furrowed, and Pepper rolled her eyes again.
“His favorite flower,” Pepper clarified. “He asked me about Tony’s favorite flower.”
“Oh,” Happy said, his eyes still locked on Morgan. He raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound like an emergency text.”
Pepper ignored him. “He’s a considerate kid.”
“Or he’s smart,” Happy replied, his arms miming to Morgan from across the room, though there was no possible way she could be focusing on him right now. “And this is a calculated way to get close to you.”
Pepper stared at him skeptically. After several long seconds, he finally relented.
“Fine. That sounds… nice.” He shot her a quick frown. “But I still don’t like it.”
“Well, you don’t have to. You just have to trust me.”
“And you trust him?” Happy asked, leaning forward in his chair as Morgan turned on the offensive.
“I do,” Pepper said firmly, her eyes fixed on Morgan, ready to jump up. “I really, really—”
She broke off as Morgan, using the other girl’s weight against her, decided on a clean dodge. The girl stumbled off balance and fell, Morgan just managing to pin her down. Both Happy and Pepper leapt from their seats, and ten seconds later, it was official—Morgan had won.
Pepper and Happy cheered, arms waving frantically across the room, their previous conversation—and disagreement—entirely forgotten.
For all the parenting books Pepper had read before giving birth to Morgan, none of them ever discussed the possibility of having a child that was too observant. Just once, it would be nice to have a conversation with Happy that wasn’t immediately scrutinized by her daughter.
Today was not that day.
“What were you talking about during the last match?” Morgan asked as Happy pulled away from the curb, sticking her head through the gap in the front seats.
Pepper frowned at her. “Do you have your seatbelt on?”
Morgan rolled her eyes. “Yes. This is just for the drama, Mom.” She leaned back in her chair and repeated the question. “What were you talking about?”
Pepper didn’t so much as trade a glance with Happy—it was too risky.
“Boring stuff,” she replied, the lie sending a guilty wave through her stomach. “Stark Industries things.”
Morgan narrowed her eyes, mouth scrunched as she looked between the two of them. “But it looked serious.”
“Business is serious,” Pepper pointed out.
“Not that serious,” Morgan said dismissively, reminding Pepper so much of Tony that she nearly snorted. Based on Happy’s strangled chuckle next to her, she wasn’t the only one who saw the resemblance.
Pepper shook her head. She wasn’t exactly sure why she was withholding the truth from Morgan, but for some reason, the whole thing felt too delicate to share with her right now—her passionate, all-or-nothing daughter, who would undoubtedly jump at the chance to finally get to know the person she’d observed from afar for so long.
“I’ll find out even if you don’t tell me,” Morgan said staunchly from the back.
Pepper blinked, finding herself pinned by a frown through the rearview mirror. “And how exactly will you do that?”
Morgan glanced out the window as if she’d said too much. “I have my ways,” she muttered.
“I’m sure you do,” Pepper replied, chancing a glance at Happy, whose eyes flickered pointedly toward his watch. Pepper got the hint. “And I don’t suppose your ways have anything to do with asking our favorite AI?”
Morgan’s eyes widened as she continued to stare out the window. “No. Why would you think that? FRIDAY and I aren’t even best friends.”
Pepper couldn’t decide between rolling her eyes and laughing. “Well, that’s a shame. Who is your best friend, then?”
“Gerald.”
“Gerald?” Pepper fought the curl at the edge of her lips. “What about Mikayla?”
“Mikayla?!” Morgan echoed, indignant. “No way! She builds Lego wrong.”
“Right,” Pepper said, feigning seriousness. “And how does she do that, again?”
“She only builds the sets,” Morgan replied, shaking her head emphatically. “And then they just sit there in her room! The whole point of Lego is to make new things! But she never takes them apart, and it’s just… boring. She doesn’t get that sometimes you have to take things apart to build something better! Like with Happy’s watch—I used one of your old belts.”
Pepper paused, moving quickly between the five stages of grief for her old accessory, then wondering why she was even surprised. “Of course you did.”
It was all the permission Morgan needed before launching into an explanation of the fairly in-depth process she’d apparently undertaken that morning.
In the front seats, Happy and Pepper exchanged another look—one of exasperation and love, as familiar as the backs of their own hands. And one they’d shared often enough long before Morgan ever came along.
[9:45PM] Tony's Favorite Chilli: Our daughter is much shorter than most of her peers
[9:45PM] Tony's Favorite Chilli: She’s also conspiring with FRIDAY
[9:47PM] Tony's Favorite Chilli: Neither of which should be particularly shocking, but here we are
[10:32PM] Tony's Favorite Chilli: We should have spent more time in Italy
[11:12AM] Peter: Hi Pepper
[11:13AM] Peter: I may have a solution for the flower issue
[11:24AM] Pepper: Hi Peter
[11:24AM] Pepper: What flower issue?
[11:27AM] Peter: Morgan’s dislike of flowers
[11:28AM] Peter: What about a flower press?
[11:30AM] Peter: You could press the flowers together
[11:41AM] Pepper: That’s a great idea, I’ll get FRIDAY to order one
[11:42AM] Pepper: FRIDAY is our family’s AI 😊
[11:48AM] Peter: I know 😊 and I hope it’s okay, but I already got her one
[11:50AM] Peter: If you don’t mind
[11:51AM] Peter: I understand if you feel uncomfortable accepting a gift from someone you barely know
[12:02PM] Pepper: I don’t mind
[12:04PM] Pepper: I want to say you didn’t need to do that, but that feels hypocritical
[12:05PM] Pepper: So instead I’ll just say thank you. That’s very sweet of you
[12:09PM] Peter: Oh, it’s nothing!
[12:13PM] Peter: I can give it to you on Saturday, if that works?
[12:28PM] Pepper: Perfect!
The first time Peter called Pepper was the night of the flower press gifting. In a true ‘speak of the devil’ moment, the phone rang in the middle of another safety lecture from Happy—Pepper shushed him as quickly as she could, grabbing for her phone. She couldn’t explain the anxiety knotting in her chest as she answered, except that Peter had never called her before and it seemed uncharacteristic for him to suddenly do so, out of the blue.
“Peter?”
She was met with a faint gurgling sound; enough to send Pepper scrambling to her feet.
“Peter?” she repeated, her voice already steadily creeping towards frantic. In her experience, a life-threatening situation was far more likely than an accidental dial. “Is everything okay?”
Happy gestured for her to put the phone on speaker, and it was a mark of just how worried she was that she complied. More silence followed, and Pepper was a second away from snapping and asking FRIDAY to trace the call when Peter’s voice finally came through.
“Pe… pp… er?”
Pepper’s body turned cold, as if all the air outside had suddenly been deposited within. She glanced at Happy, somewhat reassured to see her own fear reflected on his face.
Tucking the phone between her shoulder and ear, Pepper strode towards the kitchen bench and snatched up her keys. “Peter, what’s wrong? Where are you?”
“Apartment,” Peter managed, and Pepper pulled the phone away from her ear to temporarily cover the microphone.
“FRIDAY—”
“He’s at an address in Queens,” came FRIDAY’s quick reply. “I’m loading it into your GPS now.”
Pepper nodded. “Thank you.” She looked at Happy, jerking her chin upstairs. “Can you stay with Morgan, I need to—”
“I should go,” Happy interrupted, for once looking loath to be the voice of personal safety. “We have no idea what the kid’s…”
“Pepper?”
Pepper briefly moved her hand. “I’m here, Peter. I’m on my way.” She shook her head at Happy, inching in the direction of the door. “He knows me, Happy. It has to be me.”
“He appears to be home alone,” FRIDAY said from above; Pepper could have kissed her. “If that makes you feel any better, Mr Hogan.”
“Not particularly,” Happy murmured, his concerned eyes still pinned to Pepper’s phone. A few seconds later, he nodded. “Okay. Go. I’ll stay here. But if anything happens—”
“FRIDAY will call the suit,” Pepper said as Happy followed her into the entryway. “Won’t you, FRI?”
“Already on standby.”
Happy nodded, hovering. “Be safe. I, uh… I hope the kid’s okay.”
Pepper wrenched her shoes on with one hand while pulling the door open, trying to keep her phone from falling off her shoulder. Everything was taking too long, and time was moving too fast, and Peter…
“Thanks, Happy.”
She practically ran to her car.
“Talk to me, Peter. I’m on my way, I promise. Just talk to me. And breathe. Focus on my voice and breathe.” Her voice wavered, a second too early to blame on the Bluetooth. “Please, Peter. Just… breathe.”
An hour later, Pepper arrived at what she assumed was Peter’s apartment with her internal organs seemingly rearranged: her heart in her stomach, her lungs in her throat. She hadn’t felt this fearful since…
Well, for about two years.
FRIDAY handled everything when it came to getting inside the building—Pepper had never felt less prepared to use human guiles alone. Once inside, she raced up the stairs two at a time, cursing the broken elevator, until she reached an unassuming-looking door on the second-to-top level, every muscle in her legs screaming in protest.
She gave one, two, three rapid knocks on the door—a simple courtesy—before going straight for the handle.
It was already unlocked; Pepper couldn’t decide if that was a good or bad sign.
“Peter?” Pepper called as she pushed into the apartment, dismayed when there was no response. “Peter? Are you here?”
After a moment of silence, she heard a barely audible groan.
Pepper rushed towards the sound, into what would logically be a bathroom. She was right, except this one had certainly seen better days—the room was covered in barely white tiles and dirty grout, with a half-broken medicine cabinet and too-small mirror on the far wall. The toilet was missing a lid, and the shower curtains looked about two seconds from being torn straight off.
Then there was the blood.
So, so much blood, splattered against the white backdrop like some horrifying abstract painting, smeared along the floor like entrails. And, in the center of it all—
“Peter!”
He was slumped against the edge of the shower wall, right arm wrapped in the curtain as if intending to haul himself up. He shook his head slightly at her voice, blinking upwards.
“Pep… per?”
The sound of his slurring spurred Pepper into motion, driving her forwards to crouch beside him, the knees of her tracksuit pants turning sticky and damp. Her stomach recoiled at the sight of a large knife discarded on the floor behind him, his left hand resting limp beside it.
“Stab… I was… stab—”
“Yeah,” Pepper said, faint even to her own ears. “I know. We need to get you to a—”
“No hospitals!” Peter yelped, cutting her off, more succinct than he’d been the entire night so far. Grimacing, he closed his eyes and hunched over. “Already… healing. My back… is…”
Pepper frowned and peered at the gash on his exposed back, uncomprehending.
“If it’s about the hospital bill,” Pepper started, her hands trembling as she fought the urge to try and lift him. “You don’t need to worry about it.”
“Not… that,” Peter muttered. “Just look.”
She shook her head. “I don’t…”
“You do.” He peered up at her intently from the floor. “Yes… you do.”
Pepper looked between the hole on Peter’s back, the size of the blade, the copious amount of blood, and finally understood.
“You’re… enhanced?”
Peter managed a nod, the wound stitching closed a little more even as Pepper watched.
“I broke my arm,” Peter groaned, pushing himself into a seated position. “I couldn’t get it out… the knife, I mean. I couldn’t get… the knife out.”
Pepper was still shaking her head, her heart rate slowly returning to a semi-normal rhythm at the knowledge he wasn’t about to die. “Do you remember calling me?”
“Sort of,” Peter blinked again profusely. “I don’t remember much. But I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry for bothering you—”
“Peter,” Pepper admonished. “Don’t you dare apologize. You were stabbed, for Christ’s sake. I don’t care if you… heal quickly, or whatever. I’m glad you called. You shouldn’t be alone. And I can help—well, I know someone who can help, her name’s Dr Cho...”
“It’s fine,” Peter said, moving his left arm gingerly. Pepper tried not to imagine what it had looked like an hour ago. “Really. I’m fine, Pepper.”
“But the blood loss…”
“I’ve probably already replenished it.”
When she continued to gaze at him dubiously, Peter reached out and grasped her hand, attempting a smile. It didn’t make her feel any better: his hand was almost completely red, the blood deep underneath his fingernails, the bruising on his left arm still fading.
“Food,” Pepper blurted out instinctively. “You need food. That helps, right?”
He nodded, his smile stretching a little further. “Yeah. Food helps.”
Pepper returned it, reluctant but grateful to have something to do. Something to focus on, some way to help. “Good. I can do food. And then you can tell me how, exactly, you got stabbed.”
“Uh…” Peter avoided her eye. “It’s not very exciting.”
“I don’t care,” Pepper replied, helping him to his feet. “You got stabbed, Peter.”
“Yeah, but I…” He broke off and glanced down at himself, surprised. “I’m almost naked.”
“That too,” Pepper agreed. Frankly, at no point had that registered to her as strange. There was a time when she was overly familiar with finding half-naked young men in the bathroom—and not by choice. “That’s not part of the story, then?”
“No, it’s…” he frowned. “Quick thinking, I guess… maybe it helped get the knife out.”
“With a broken arm?” Pepper asked doubtfully, too focused on Peter’s still pale face to really care. “Come on. Food. Do I need to get FRIDAY to order something?”
“Um… I have cereal.”
Pepper shot him a stern look. “I’ve seen Captain America eat; cereal doesn’t count.” She spoke down to her watch. “FRIDAY, can you order us four pizzas please?”
“I don’t need—”
“Make it six.”
For all his protests, Peter devoured every slice of pizza without hesitation. He didn’t even bother showering first, instead slipping into a threadbare dressing gown to cover his bare torso and legs—though that might have been more about Pepper’s insistence that he avoid standing for too long. The last thing she needed after an already stressful evening was to hear him collapse mid-shower.
“You don’t have to stay,” Peter said, now curled up on the couch with a cup of tea in hand, looking far more like the young man Pepper had first met. “I mean, I’m—”
“If you say fine one more time…” Pepper warned, shooting him a quick glare as she finished texting Happy. Peter smartly trailed off. There was a brief pause before she placed her phone down and turned her full attention back to him. “Now, the stabbing.”
Peter glanced away quickly. “Right. The stabbing. Well, you see, I—I take photos for the Daily Bugle, of… of Spider-Man, and sometimes it just gets… a bit dangerous.”
“Ah, of course.” Pepper closed her eyes and fought off a sigh. “Of course, you’re that Peter. Peter Parker, right?”
He looked down at his mug as he nodded. “Yep, that’s me. Peter Benjamin Parker.”
Pepper felt several layers of unease as she stared at him. “And Spider-Man didn’t stop them from hurting you?”
“Wha—no, he wasn’t there!” Peter hurried to explain. “He’s a—a really good dude, but he can’t be everywhere, and I just… got caught in the cross hairs.”
Pepper arched an eyebrow skeptically.
“It’s not his fault,” Peter stressed. “There were these guys and… and they wanted to know his identity, but obviously I couldn’t tell them—not that I know who he is, but I…” he stopped, placing his head in his hands. “This isn’t working, is it?”
“No,” Pepper said. “But you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
“I do,” Peter replied. “It’s just…”
“It’s okay,” Pepper said. “As long as you know you can call, if anything… well, if anything like that ever happens again.”
Peter nodded again, more reluctantly this time.
“You will call, won’t you?”
“I’ll try.”
Pepper almost rolled her eyes at how much he sounded like Morgan. “Peter…”
She waited until his gaze met hers, his eyes tracing the worried lines of her expression.
“Okay, okay. I’ll… I’ll call.”
Pepper’s face softened in relief. “Thank you.”
There was an ease to the silence that followed—comfortable, despite the bloodied knife in the sink and Pepper wearing Peter’s too-big tracksuit pants. Nostalgic, as though they’d been here before.
Pepper knew she’d have to leave soon, make the journey back home, but the countless questions—along with her ongoing concern—made her hesitate.
Most felt too hard, too unfair, to ask someone who had survived a stabbing that very evening—though Peter, truthfully, seemed fine now. Questions about where his friends and family were, or how he’d come by the abilities that let him heal so quickly. Others seemed trivial in comparison, like why he used a citrus-scented soap in winter or when he’d last changed his bed sheets.
Unwittingly, her gaze landed on Peter’s curled form, the sight of his Led Zeppelin jumper nudging her towards the middle ground. She settled on a variation of the question that had lingered since their first meeting.
“Did you really not know Tony?”
Peter looked at her in surprise, but Pepper pressed on. She hadn’t stumbled over her words in years and wasn’t about to start now.
“I’d understand if you did and just didn’t tell me. Being enhanced—I can’t imagine what that’s like: the fear of someone finding out, of your life being turned upside down. And I know Tony sometimes took kids like you under his wing—like Spider-Man, in fact—and he always kept their identities hidden, even from me. But if that was the case, you can be honest with me now. I won’t be upset; it won’t change anything. Your secret is safe with me. I’m just curious, because I have this feeling…”
Pepper couldn’t say more than that: she didn’t know how. She wasn’t sure what, precisely, she was feeling—only that she was feeling something. A sense that the young man in front of her knew more than he was letting on; that she was missing something crucial.
For a moment, she thought Peter wouldn’t answer.
“We met a few times,” Peter said at last, his voice quiet. “I wouldn’t say I really knew him. And he certainly wouldn’t recognise me if he saw me now.”
Pepper regarded him thoughtfully, a soft, lopsided smile forming. “If you met him more than once,” she said gently, “then you saw that he cared. That he had a heart. And that’s more than most.”
Peter gripped his mug tightly. “I don’t know how anyone even doubts… of course, he cared. He cared so much, he sacrificed himself for—for all of us to be here.”
He mulled over his words for a second before continuing. Almost stumbling, in his haste to get them out. “And I’m grateful for that, really, I am. But I just… I miss him so much. There’ve been so many times in the past two years when I could’ve used his advice or his help, and…”
“He wasn’t there,” Pepper finished simply, her voice steady and sympathetic, without a trace of pity.
“Yeah.”
Peter’s expression shifted, shame creeping into his features. Before he could overthink it, Pepper spoke again, guessing at what he was going to say.
“Do you know what the hardest part was when Tony died?” she asked, setting her phone aside.
Startled, Peter shook his head.
“The loneliness,” Pepper replied. “Not just because he was gone, but because grief is an emotion that demands to be shared—and yet, it seems that the closer you are to someone, the harder that is. It’s as if everyone is so aware of your feelings—of how your grief must surpass theirs—that they refuse to even speak about their own.
But, in my experience, grief is, for most of us, the same. Wishing the person we lost was still here, wishing we’d had more time. I know I feel that way about Tony every day, and I will for the rest of my life. Because I cared about him and loved him very much. So, why on earth should you apologize for feeling the same way?”
Peter stared at her, expression unreadable. He opened his mouth several times, looking like a lost goldfish, before finally deciding there was no easy way to say what he wanted to.
“Why are you being so nice?” he asked, then immediately winced. “I mean, to me, specifically. I don’t… I don’t get it. We’re talking about Tony, but you don’t even know me.”
Pepper tilted her head slightly, considering. Unlike with Happy, the answer came easily.
“Except I do, Peter. I know that you care enough about Tony to visit his memorial every weekend. That you’re kind enough to bring me flowers, and thoughtful enough to make sure Morgan can enjoy them too. That you’re honest enough to try to figure things out on your own, and stubborn enough to refuse help, even when you need it and it’s offered.
I know you’re smart enough to remember plenty of facts, but not quite smart enough to realize when it’s better to keep quiet. I know you built Morgan the flower press—very clever, by the way—and that you have important secrets worth protecting.
But more than anything else, I know that you’re alone, and you’re hurting. I know your grief, Peter. And for me, that’s enough.”
[3:48AM] Pepper: Just got home
[3:49AM] Peter: 😊
[3:49AM] Peter: Thank you
[3:51AM] Peter: And thank you for coming to check on me tonight
[3:52AM] Pepper: Anytime
[3:53AM] Pepper: Let me know if you need anything today, more food etc.
[3:59AM] Peter: Thanks Pepper
[3:59AM] Peter: I will
[4:03AM] Tony's Favorite Chilli: Hey honey, I’m curious
[4:04AM] Tony's Favorite Chilli: What’s more likely, that you and all the enhanced kids of New York know each other, or that I just met Spider-Man?
[4:10AM] Tony's Favorite Chilli: But didn’t I say you’d like him?
[8:24AM] Clint: Hey P, when are we going Christmas tree shopping?
[8:25AM] Clint: The kids are asking
[10:37AM] Pepper: Same as always? December 1?
[10:42AM] Clint: 👍
[10:45AM] Pepper: Also, I’ve been meaning to ask, do you think Laura would mind if I hosted this year?
[11:01AM] Clint: Mind? I think she might cry
[11:03AM] Clint: Are you sure tho? It’s a lot of work
[11:21AM] Clint: Laura wants me to pass on that I have woefully misrepresented the joy she gets from having everyone here for Christmas
[11:23AM] Clint: But srsly, it’s a lot of work
[11:38AM] Pepper: I’m sure
[11:39AM] Pepper: I think it’s time for Morgan to have a Christmas at home
[11:40AM] Pepper: But I’d still love to have you all over
[12:17PM] Clint: 👍
[12:17PM] Clint: We’ll be there
[1:53PM] Laura: I just spoke to Clint. Please let me know what you’d like us to bring for lunch. And if you need anything else just let us know, okay?
[2:04PM] Pepper: Thanks Laura
[2:05PM] Pepper: Maybe the cornbread for lunch?
[2:08PM] Laura: Done!
[2:42PM] Happy: Barton called. Let me know what you need
[2:56PM] Rhodey: Heard from Clint that you’ve offered to host Christmas, and I have only one question
[2:57PM] Rhodey: Why???
[3:05PM] Bruce: Hi Pepper, Clint called to tell me you’re hosting Christmas this year. What can I bring? I’m happy to make a casserole again.
[3:19PM] Pepper: Did you really just call everyone?
[3:28PM] Clint: No
[3:28PM] Clint: I’m not that old
[3:39PM] Clint: I texted them
Over the next two weeks, Pepper became accustomed to opening her phone to several messages from Peter. They were small, often last-minute requests—like an overdue bill or a hasty takeaway meal—usually followed by a slew of apologies, but Pepper didn’t mind. He was asking for help, and that was a start; on a handful of occasions, he even picked up the phone to call.
In turn, Pepper started dropping off a random assortment of groceries whenever she found herself near his area. Her strange inclination that he didn’t eat enough had only grown stronger now that she knew he was enhanced—and if Peter noticed that the care packages almost always appeared the day after Spider-Man was shown hurt on the news, he didn’t mention it.
There was just one challenge with Pepper and Peter’s budding friendship:
Morgan.
While Happy had relented with his questions after the stabbing fiasco—not that Pepper had told him the details—Morgan had only grown more insistent. True to her word, she’d figured out that Pepper knew Peter and was now adamant it was her turn.
Pepper was under no illusion—she knew their meeting was inevitable if she kept visiting Peter. Most of the time, she was in favour of it. She thought it could be good for them—particularly Morgan—to have someone closer in age to relate to, whose relationship with Tony was vastly different from everyone else’s.
Except Pepper couldn’t stop overthinking it. What if Morgan didn’t like Peter once they actually met? What if Peter didn’t like kids? Or—perhaps the most pressing question of all—what if he wasn’t interested in their unusual little family, forged in the wake of grief?
She wanted it to be perfect, to minimise any stress or expectation. And unfortunately, that meant waiting until after the holidays—a notoriously busy time, now made even busier by Pepper hosting their Christmas Day celebrations. Maybe, if all went well, Peter could join them for the next one.
In the meantime, Pepper focused on keeping Morgan distracted—not an easy task when dealing with a Stark, especially when she passed Peter every week at the memorial.
Pepper’s saving grace was the end of the boxing season. There was only one more training session before a self-imposed break. She just had to make it through today…
“What about this afternoon?” Morgan piped up from the back seat, her expression eager in the rearview mirror. “Can I meet him then?”
Pepper fought off a sigh. “No. We’ve been over this, Morgan. After Christmas, okay?”
Morgan pouted. “But that’s so far away.”
“I haven’t met him either,” Happy chimed in, earning a disapproving look from Pepper.
“Then why don’t we meet him together?” Morgan asked hopefully.
“That’s a great idea,” Pepper agreed, with mock enthusiasm. “For next year, Little Miss.”
Morgan huffed, turning to stare out the window, grumbling under her breath about moving goalposts. Pepper rested her head against her hand, subtly rubbing her temples. She had no idea where her daughter had even picked up that analogy—Clint’s kids, maybe.
Next to her, Happy shot her an amused glance.
It was going to be a long day.
Pepper hadn’t planned on visiting Peter that week. It seemed unfair to drop by on her own when a highly determined Morgan was being denied the same privilege. Besides, with her connection to Peter now noticeably less fragile, she didn’t feel the same urge to interrupt his quiet moments with Tony—even though he generally welcomed the company.
But when she stumbled across some of Steve Roger’s old detergent supplies at the cabin—left over from one of Tony’s projects, no doubt—she felt compelled to pass them along as soon as possible. Steve always said anything other than the specialty formula was too strong for his senses, and now that she knew what to look for, she’d noticed Peter’s subtle reactions too. The way his nose wrinkled at the smell of the tulips reminded her of Yin Yoga—not outwardly painful, but distinctly uncomfortable.
And it went without saying that the mild, woody scent was far better suited for winter than Peter’s citrus monstrosity, which, in Pepper’s mind, was now forever tied to flinching.
Peter was already smiling when she approached, presumably having spotted her arrival from several miles away. Another demonstration of his enhanced senses that Pepper spotted more and more often.
She waved. “Hi.”
“Hi.” His expression flickered with concern. “Everything okay?”
Pepper nodded, filing the information away to text in future, prior to an unexpected visit. Clearly, she wasn’t the only one whose mind went straight to the worst case scenario.
“Everything’s great. I wanted to bring you something.”
“You didn’t have—” he broke off, shaking his head wryly. “There’s no point in even saying it, is there?”
Pepper smiled. “Not in the slightest. But it’s small, I promise.”
She passed him a brown paper bag, which Peter peered into doubtfully. “That’s what you said about the sink, too.”
Pepper rolled her eyes. “You need a working sink, Peter. It doesn’t matter if you were the one who broke it or not.”
“They’re just so delicate,” he protested, pulling a bottle from the bag and turning it around. “I didn’t mean to…” his eyes turned wide as he looked up at Pepper. “Is this what I think it is?”
“If you think it’s some of Steve Roger’s detergent? Then yes. I found some at home and I thought you might appreciate it.”
Peter nodded mutely, unscrewing the cap and wafting the bottle carefully in front of him.
When he glanced up at Pepper a few seconds later, his eyes glistened, and he quickly ran a hand over them.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “My aunt used to have some of this at home; Tony gave us a whole box. And then he obviously used it in the labs and the tower, so it just… it smells like them. Like home. It’s a little silly.”
Pepper’s own eyes prickled as an old memory resurfaced—one she hadn’t called upon in close to seven years. Tony, sending out an email about how all the laundry in their personal penthouses and his labs needed to be switched over to the enhanced-friendly formula. At the time, it had seemed like a relatively unimportant request—just another small task in the vast sea of Stark demands. And frankly, it was below Pepper’s pay grade to worry about. But now, looking at Peter, it all made so much more sense. As did the extra supplies at the cabin.
Just in case.
“It’s not silly,” Pepper assured him, smiling comfortingly. “I’d forgotten he used it. After everyone Blipped, and the Avengers split… there wasn’t much point.”
Peter looked down and screwed the lid back on.
“I never heard much about what happened,” he said, shaking his head. “Obviously there’s the official story, but I know it’s never quite that simple. I want to say I can’t imagine a world without the Avengers, but…” he gave her a lopsided smile and shrugged.
Pepper knew the feeling—but she also had plenty of reason to hope it wouldn’t stay that way forever. Owed in part to the person in front of her.
“I wouldn’t worry,” she said kindly. “They’ll find a way to regroup; come back when there’s a threat. They always do. Despite what the news might want us to believe, there’s no shortage of people who want to make the world a better place.” She tried not to look at him too pointedly. “Right?”
He gave her a watery smile, stronger by the second. “Right.”
Pepper’s face softened in return, chest aching. She was just about to ask him if he’d like a hug when her phone started ringing—blaring—from her back pocket. She knew from the voice alone that it was Happy. And based on the volume, FRIDAY had overridden every single possible setting to get his message to Pepper.
Peter flinched at the sudden noise, stepping back involuntarily. Pepper didn’t blame him; the only thing stopping her from hurling the small object across the concrete was that she had practically frozen in place at Happy’s news.
“What do you mean she’s gone?”
Happy’s rationality was exactly why he was Head of Security, and she wasn’t.
“She’s not gone. Did I ever use the word gone? No. From what I can tell, she climbed out the bathroom window.”
“From what you can—you’re being too calm about this, Happy! Morgan is miss—”
“I know, Pepper. I know. But her watch is still on and she’s not moving very fast. This is my job, alright? She’s heading towards you, so try to keep a look-out.”
“What? Why would she be…” Pepper trailed off as her gaze landed on the young man in front of her. “Peter?”
It came out as both a realization and a question.
Peter’s eyes blinked open. “I can hear her. She’s a few blocks over.”
“How do you know?” Pepper asked.
Peter was pushing the detergent back into the bag. “I’ve heard Morgan every week for close to a year,” he said, his voice calm. “I know what she sounds like, even when she’s too far away for the words to make sense.” He met her gaze earnestly. “It’s okay, Pepper. She’s okay. We can go get her together.”
“No,” Pepper replied, shocked to hear the word come out of her mouth. “No, you should… you should go get her. You’ll be quicker by yourself. I’ll only slow you down.”
Peter’s eyes were wide. “But she’s your daughter and I—”
“I trust you, Peter,” Pepper said, ignoring Happy’s sudden commentary filtering through the phone. “She’s smart, but she’s only seven. She shouldn’t be wandering by herself. FRIDAY can let her know you’re coming.”
He nodded, passing Pepper back the bag. “I… yeah, okay. I’ll be as fast as I can.”
Pepper grasped his arm. “As fast as you can while being safe.”
Peter gently maneuvered out of Pepper’s grip, already backing away, bouncing on his feet as if readying to run. “I will. I always am, now. And I’m quick, but speed isn’t—it isn’t really my thing. I’m not Quicksilver.”
“Right,” Pepper agreed, not altogether reassured. She wanted Morgan safe, but at the same time, she didn’t want Peter exposing his abilities—especially while his face was visible. “Call me when you find her.”
He shot her a quick, tight smile; a betrayal of his own worry. He was somehow already several feet away.
“I will.”
And then he was moving. Really moving. Fast and fluid as he sprinted across the square, veering towards the footpath. Quick, but not quick enough to make anyone stare or pull out a phone. Jeans and hoodie aside, he was just a kid going on a run—nowhere near enough to garner the attention of New Yorkers.
Still distracted, Pepper held the phone up to her face. “Happy? Are you there? Peter’s going to—”
“I’m here,” Happy grunted back, the volume mercifully—and miraculously—corrected. “I heard. I’ll grab the car and swing around as quickly as I can, try to meet them halfway.”
There was a beat of silence, followed by the faint jingle of keys. Happy cleared his throat, his tone turning pointed as a beep signalled his switch from his phone to the car’s Bluetooth.
“So… just a normal kid, huh?”
Ten minutes and one phone call later, Pepper was hugging Morgan mid-scolding, and Happy was no closer to their location, the city’s traffic against him.
“I told you she’d be worried,” Peter said to Morgan, once Pepper had finally let go.
“And I told you she’d forgive me,” Morgan replied, though her expression quickly crumbled to guilt as she turned back to Pepper. “You will, won’t you? Because I am really sorry. It’s just... I saw him first, and it seems like he knew Daddy, so I had to meet him. But I kept my watch on for FRIDAY!” She peered at her mother anxiously. “Are you mad?”
“Oh, I’m furious,” Pepper assured her. “But I'm mostly just glad you’re okay. I was so scared, Maguna.”
“I know.” Morgan’s face was downcast. “I’m really sorry.” Her expression turned even more distressed. “You will forgive me, right?”
Pepper's frown softened. “Of course, I’ll forgive you, Little Miss. Happy might take a bit longer to come around; you slipped out on his watch. Do you know what might help, though?”
Morgan's eyes were wide as she stared at Pepper. “What?”
Pepper fought the twitch at the edge of her mouth. “Promising that you won’t do anything like that, ever again. Do you think you can do that?”
It was somewhat of an unfair request: at some stage of Morgan’s life, there would inevitably be a healthy dose of rebellion. But Pepper knew her daughter well, which was precisely why she ignored Peter’s skeptical look in favour of watching the cogs of Morgan’s mind turning.
Eventually, she met Pepper’s gaze once more—Stark brown on stormy blue.
“I promise to try.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Pepper caught Peter’s huffed laugh, followed by a snigger.
“Something funny?” Pepper asked, raising a knowing eyebrow. Morgan’s answer was as predictable as it was bittersweet.
Peter shook his head quickly, amusement lingering in his expression. “Nothing. Just... it’s a good answer.”
“It is,” Morgan said solemnly. “But Mommy still hates it.”
“I do,” Pepper agreed, slightly surprised by her daughter’s perceptiveness. “It’s probably my least favourite answer ever. And the one I hear most often from you both. So, what do you think that says?”
“That we’re upstanding, honest people?” Peter asked hopefully.
Pepper shot him an exasperated look. “Funny, but I don’t think it’s that.”
“Worth a try, Petey,” Morgan said with a small shrug.
As the pair shared conspiratorial smiles, Pepper sighed inwardly. She’d neglected to consider this outcome: two chaotic, kindred spirits feeding into each other’s antics. Apparently, she’d been worrying about all the wrong things—and now had entirely new ones to lose sleep over.
Why did I ever expect anything less?
Pepper could tell Peter wanted to stay until Happy arrived, but he seemed to grow more restless with each passing minute. She glanced at the still undelivered flowers, now back in his arms, trying not to feel too terrible at the sight of them.
“Peter,” she started kindly, taking advantage of the brief pause in his and Morgan’s conversation. “You don’t have to wait for Happy if there’s somewhere else you need to be.”
He looked between the pair, torn.
“Oh, that’s not…” his eyes landed on the flowers. “I mean, are you sure?”
Pepper nodded. “I’ve got it from here. I can look after the two of us.”
“I know,” Peter replied earnestly. “I guess I… nevermind. You’re right, I should get going.”
Morgan gazed up at him imploringly. “You’re leaving already? Before you meet Uncle Happy?”
“Morgan,” Pepper admonished. “It’s been over half an hour.” She looked at Peter apologetically. “I honestly don’t know what’s taking him so long.”
Peter shrugged, looking almost relieved. “That’s okay,” he said, suddenly much more cheerful. “I’ll meet him next time.”
“Which means there will be a next time, then?” Morgan asked. Her voice was half demanding, half eager.
Peter paused, unsure how to respond, sending a quick look at Pepper. Most of his expression was unreadable, but what Pepper did see was more than enough.
“How about I text you later and we can work something out?” she asked.
In that split second, it was as if all Peter’s uncertainty faded away. He beamed.
“That sounds great.”
Morgan whooped excitedly. “Next weekend?” she asked hopefully.
Pepper went to reply, but found there was no need—Peter was already crouching down to Morgan’s level.
“We’ll see,” he said, smile still in place. “I’m sure it’s a busy time of year for you with Christmas coming up. But we’ll work something out, okay?”
Morgan pouted. “Okay.”
“I’ll see you soon,” he reiterated, before scooping up the flowers and bag next to her. “Yeah?”
She nodded. “Yeah.”
Pepper smiled as Peter straightened.
“Thank you again, for…” she glanced at Morgan. “Well, you know.”
Peter waved her off. “I’m glad I could help.”
“I don’t doubt that,” Pepper replied easily. And then—she didn’t know what compelled her to do so—she pulled him into a quick hug. “Talk soon?”
Peter momentarily froze as Pepper berated herself for not asking first. Who cared if she’d had his blood on her hands? You always asked permission before—
He seemed to melt, before squeezing her back gently. “Definitely.”
“And if you ever want company in future,” Pepper said softly, nodding at the flowers, willing her voice steady. “I’m here.”
Peter nodded against her cheek gratefully, though he didn’t accept the offer. Pepper didn’t expect him to; not anytime soon, at least. But it wasn’t an empty gesture—Pepper knew all too well how isolating grief could be, and she didn’t want him navigating it alone any more than he already had.
Smiling distractedly, Peter pulled back, for once too preoccupied to notice the new addition approaching their group.
Pepper, on the other hand, sent the man over his shoulder a warning look.
Be nice.
“Uncle Happy!” Morgan cried, surging forwards to drag him towards Peter. “This is Peter! Peter, meet Uncle Happy.”
Neither man moved. Happy was too busy scrutinising Peter, and Peter was too busy impersonating a deer caught in headlights. Eyes wide, his resemblance to the friendly neighbourhood hero Pepper suspected he moonlighted as each evening was suddenly undeniable.
“Nice to meet you,” Peter finally managed, holding out a hand.
Happy raised an eyebrow as he shook Peter’s proffered hand. “We’ll see.”
“Happy!” Morgan frowned at him. “Where are your manners?”
“It’s fine,” Peter said, shaking his head. “He’s your Head of Security and he doesn’t know me; he’s right to be suspicious.”
That, more than anything else, seemed to win Happy over.
“See?” he asked, glancing meaningfully at Pepper. “He gets it.”
Pepper rolled her eyes. “Then can you be a bit less intense, please?”
“Intense?” Happy asked. “I’m not being intense. I shook his hand. I’m being nice, right kid?”
“Sure,” Peter replied hurriedly. “Super nice. It’s like talking to Mr Rogers.” He looked imploringly at Pepper. “But I really do have to go—”
“Oh! Yes, of course, you do. Go. I’ll see you soon.”
Peter nodded, giving them one last wave. “Bye! Nice to meet you both.”
“Bye Peter!”
He all but ran away. Pepper elbowed Happy in the side.
“What was that?”
“What?” Happy asked. “I was polite.”
“You were a brick wall, that’s what you were.” She glared at him when he continued to frown in the direction of Peter’s departure. “He’s gone, Happy. You can stop trying to intimidate him.”
Happy shook his head. “No, it’s not… I feel like I know him from somewhere. Like I’ve met him before, or something.”
Pepper felt herself soften. “I think he just has that effect on people.”
“I like him!” Morgan piped up. “I knew I would. Mission accomplished.”
Pepper’s eyes narrowed. “You’re still in trouble, Missy.”
Morgan opened her mouth and hesitated. Sensibly, she opted for another apology.
“Sorry.” She tugged on Happy’s hand. “I’m sorry, Uncle Happy.”
“It’s okay, kid,” Happy replied, still distracted. “Did he call Steve ‘Mr Rogers’?”
“Did he?” Pepper asked, aiming for innocence. Peter definitely had, but she didn’t want to give Happy any more reason to look at him twice. “I didn’t notice.”
She pretended not to see Happy’s expression of disbelief. Thankfully, Morgan changed the topic at just the right time, bending down to pick up a lone flower that had slipped loose from Peter’s bouquet.
She twirled it between her fingers. “Mommy?”
“Yes, Morgan?”
“What do you think Peter does for Christmas?”
Pepper forced herself not to react. “I don’t know, sweetie.”
“Before you came, he was always here by himself. Do you think he’s alone on Christmas, too?” Her brow furrowed. “I hope he’s not. Not on Christmas.”
Morgan had voiced Pepper’s own fear, and it was all she could do not to pull out her phone then and there. Bending down, she wrapped an arm around her daughter, trying not to think of Peter’s apartment.
Cold, sparse, and so very empty.
“I hope so, too.”
[8:43PM] Tony's Favorite Chilli: We lost Morgan today
[8:45PM] Tony's Favorite Chilli: She wanted to meet Peter so badly that she took matters into her own hands
[8:46PM] Tony's Favorite Chilli: I was so scared
[8:47PM] Tony's Favorite Chilli: And once it was all over, all I could think was—this wouldn't have happened if Tony was here
[8:50PM] Tony's Favorite Chilli: I know what I said, but sometimes I worry I can't do this without you
[8:50PM] Tony's Favorite Chilli: Or maybe I just don’t want to
[8:51PM] Tony's Favorite Chilli: And I can’t help but think about how much brighter her life would have been with you in it
[8:51PM] Tony's Favorite Chilli: Because you were made to be a dad, Tony
[8:52PM] Tony's Favorite Chilli: You were amazing at many things, but you were the best at that
[8:59PM] Tony's Favorite Chilli: So much so, that you apparently started becoming one even before Morgan
[9:07PM] Tony's Favorite Chilli: And I don’t know what to with about him, either
[10:12AM] Pepper: Hi Peter, would you like to come for dinner on Saturday night? I thought we could have homemade pizzas this time
[10:15AM] Pepper: I know it’s far, but I’d be more than to arrange someone to pick you up/drop you off
[10:18AM] Pepper: Please don’t feel obliged to say yes 😊
[11:49AM] Peter: Hi Pepper, thank you so much for inviting me, but there’s something I need to do on Saturday night—I’m so sorry! What about next weekend?
[11:55AM] Peter: I’m really, really sorry
[11:57AM] Peter: Please apologise to Morgan for me as well!
[12:10PM] Pepper: There’s no need to apologise! Next Saturday sounds perfect 😊
[12:12PM] Peter: Great, see you then 😊
[12:15PM] Pepper: See you then ❤️
A Saturday without seeing Peter felt strange. Pepper had spent most of the day trying to stop Morgan from dwelling on their Peter-less dinner plans, all while juggling last-minute changes to the Christmas lunch menu. Her one saving grace was the flower press Peter had gifted her—an item she’d decided to reveal only once she no longer had to worry about Morgan asking too many questions.
Or at least, not as many.
The truth was, Morgan would always ask questions; it was just who she was. But today, she’d surprisingly occupied herself, running back and forth as she sandwiched flowers and leaves between the two pieces of wood, only to re-open it an hour later to reassess which ones she really wanted to include.
It was sweet, and kept Morgan busy for most of the day. Though she’d disappeared to her room in the latter half, Pepper suspected she was now simply trying to replicate Peter’s design with FRIDAY’s help.
Pepper, on the other hand, was sitting on the sofa, reading and enjoying the silence. She knew there were other things she should be doing—apart from the tree they’d collected with the Bartons, the rest of the house was still entirely undecorated for the Christmas they were supposed to host in just one week. But in that moment, curling up with a book felt too alluring to pass up. Her phone was close by—just in case anyone needed to contact her—but for once, not even the nightly news could pull her away.
So, of course, she was halfway through the final chapter when FRIDAY interrupted her.
“Ms Potts?”
Pepper paused, struck with the sudden urge to run and check on Morgan. “Yes, FRIDAY?”
“I thought you should know that Peter Parker is on the property.”
It took Pepper a moment to process the AI’s words. “Peter?”
“Yes. He’s just passed the property border now and is heading for the house. He seems highly distressed. He should arrive in several—now.”
The doorbell rang, followed by a frantic series of knocking.
“Pepper? Morgan? Hello? Please tell me you’re—”
It was the fastest Pepper had ever moved to the front door. The entire frame was jolting with each of Peter’s knocks; when Pepper wrenched it open, it seemed like a miracle the whole thing hadn’t flown off the hinges.
“Peter? What’s—”
She didn’t have a chance to finish her question before Peter pushed forwards, wrapping her in a desperate hug.
“Oh, thank God.” Everything about him was shaking, clinging to Pepper like a lifeline. “I was so worried… but you’re here. You’re safe. You’re alive.”
Pepper recognised his fear; had felt it plenty of times herself. Any questions she had could wait.
“We both are,” she replied, squeezing him tightly. “Morgan’s upstairs. We’re both here. We’re both safe. It’s okay, Peter.”
Pepper held him for as long as necessary—until his limbs stopped trembling and his face grew less damp. Pressing him close one last time, she finally pulled back, swiping a quick thumb under each of his eyes, unable to shake the feeling that they’d been here before.
“Sorry,” Petter mumbled. “There was a crash on the 95 near Fort Lee. Drunk driver. And I just—you and Morgan.”
“The boxing season’s over,” Pepper said gently, unsure if he’d forgotten or if his worry was despite that knowledge. “We didn’t go into the city today.”
“Yeah.” Peter shook his head. “Right. I knew that, but… I don’t know.”
“It’s okay,” Pepper repeated, reaching around him to close the front door. “You’re here now. Would you like a cup of tea?”
He nodded, hesitant, before trailing after Pepper back into the kitchen. Pepper wasn’t surprised to find Morgan already there, hovering at the bottom of the stairs. It was a small miracle that she hadn’t pursued them to the front door—a clear sign that she was still making an effort with her good behaviour after last weekend’s adventure.
Her eyes flickered between the two of them, lingering on Peter’s red cheeks. “What’s wrong?”
Stepping forwards, Pepper attempted a smile. “Nothing’s wrong, honey. Peter was worried, so he came to check on us.”
Morgan’s expression remained anxious.
“Uncle Happy’s okay?” she asked. “And Uncle Rhodey? And Nathaniel's family?”
“They’re fine. Happy, Rhodey, Bruce, all the Barton’s—everyone’s fine.”
Morgan scrutinized Pepper for a second longer before nodding, the tension dropping from her shoulders. “Okay. Good.”
“Sorry for scaring you,” Peter added from behind Pepper. “I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“It’s okay,” Morgan replied sincerely. “Sometimes bad things happen and we have to check.”
Somehow, Pepper managed to keep her smile in place.
“That’s right,” she said. “Sometimes it feels better to make sure. Do you mind if Peter stays for tea, Morgan?”
Morgan quickly shook her head. “No! He can stay. I don’t mind.” She squinted at Pepper. “Can I show him my flowers from today?”
Pepper felt a burst of gratitude for her daughter. “That’s a great idea. I’ll put the kettle on.”
Morgan dashed back up the stairs. Pepper turned, intending to make good on her words—certain that Morgan would be expecting a hot chocolate—but found herself trapped at the sight of Peter, standing awkwardly in the kitchen. The questions were still there, bubbling beneath the service, a consequence of Pepper’s own concern.
Peter seemed to sense them all and then some.
“I’m really sorry, Pepper,” he said earnestly. “I should have called, but I didn’t think. I wasn’t even in the city; I saw it on the news. And I’d overheard at the tower you had a property out here, so it was like… I could either run towards it, or run away from it, and I…” he faltered and squeezed his eyes shut. “I couldn’t go there. I couldn’t see, not if…”
There was something in the way he said it that Pepper understood. Something about the tone of his voice, the pain in his eyes. And though she didn't want to push, Pepper was starting to think it might be the only way to encourage him to open up. Not as a demand, but a gentle reminder it was okay to be vulnerable, if he felt ready to try.
“Who was it?” she asked gently. “Your aunt or your uncle?”
He glanced at her, surprised.
“Neither,” he said eventually. There was another long pause. “It was my parents. 15 years ago today.”
Pepper felt his rebuff of the pizza party click into place. “Then today, when you were out of the city…”
He nodded. “I go to Kaaterskill Falls every year. They loved it there—swore it was the best waterfall on earth.”
Pepper smiled. “And is it?”
Peter didn’t hesitate. “Not even close. But it reminds me of them, so I suppose in a way, it’s earned that title now.”
Pepper laughed—and then there was nothing else to do except open her arms in offer of another hug, which Peter gladly accepted. It was shorter than the last, more tender; Pepper couldn’t resist teasing him a little at the end.
“So, how’d you get here from Catskill?” she asked, aware of the feet pounding back down the stairs.
Peter barely concealed his wince, palm moving to the back of his neck.
“Uh… Uber?” he asked optimistically.
Pepper’s mouth twitched. “Sounds plausible enough.”
He gave her a meek half-shrug. “That’s my specialty.”
He was saved by Morgan’s arrival, rushing forwards and thrusting, not one, but two precariously-balanced flower presses into his arms.
“I’m working on some flower streamers for Christmas,” she told him sincerely. “But I wasn’t sure if they’d dry in time, so I was trying to add something to speed it up.” She furrowed her brow up at him. “Do you think you could help?”
Peter stared at her for a moment, bewildered. Then:
“I’d love to.” A smile split across his face, spreading and gaining momentum with each passing second. “I’d suggest something absorbent to draw the liquid out. That’s probably the easiest way.”
Morgan bounced on her toes. “Ooh! Like those little packets Mommy says not to play with.”
“Exactly.”
Morgan ran over to the table, dumping both contraptions unceremoniously onto the surface. “I’ll be right back!”
Pepper cleared her throat as Morgan vanished, holding up the pizza stone in silent question.
Smile still in place, Peter nodded.
Pizza party it is.
Pepper couldn’t remember the last time her kitchen was overtaken with laughter. The kind of laughter that grew and expanded, filling the space like gas, winding its way into the smallest of corners. It seemed that no matter which way she turned or where she went, she couldn’t escape it.
And it was utterly wonderful.
“I told you it wasn’t going to fit,” Pepper told Peter, watching as he tried to fit yet another Mount Everest of a pizza into the oven. “That’s too many toppings.”
Peter looked scandalised. “There’s no such thing. I just need to—”
Pepper wasn’t quite sure how, but a second later, half of Peter’s pizza was on the floor.
Morgan collapsed into another fit of giggles. “Too much... cheese, Petey!”
Peter huffed. “Excuse me, it’s a perfectly normal amount of…”
Glancing down, he finally registered the sheer amount of grated parmesan on the tiles below.
“Oh.” His shoulder started to shake. “That is way too much cheese.”
The seal broke, setting the laughing gas loose a second time, and soon both Pepper and Peter were in a similar state to Morgan—even as they worked to clean up the mess on the floor.
“The one flaw in this plan,” Pepper admitted, wiping up the last bit of tomato paste, “was my failure to consider how much you need to eat. We might need to order some takeaway pizzas after all.”
“What about ice-cream?” Morgan asked hopefully. “We could get ice-cream.”
It certainly wasn’t the most nutritious of dinners, but this meal was serving a far higher purpose, and Pepper didn’t have the heart to argue. Morgan could have suggested they go to a restaurant on the other side of the world and Pepper would have considered organising the private jet.
“Oh, what the heck.” She smiled. “We can get ice-cream as well.”
“From the place with the weird flavours?”
Pepper made a face. “Sure. Though why you want to eat chilli-flavoured ice-cream is beyond me.”
“Chilli-flavoured ice-cream?” Peter stood, finally succeeding in fitting his mess of flour and vegetables into the oven. “That sounds… odd.”
“It’s good!” Morgan defended. “But they have heaps of others too. FRIDAY, can you put the menu on the TV?”
“Certainly.”
Peter looked shocked as the screen turned on, a brightly coloured menu appearing. At first, Pepper thought he was reacting to FRIDAY—most people were startled by the sudden input from a disembodied voice.
She needed to remember he wasn’t most people.
“Shoot,” he muttered, frowning at the top corner of the screen. “Is that the time? When did it get so late? I should really—”
“Peter,” Pepper interrupted. “If you think there’s any chance you’re making your own way back to the city this late, on a half-full stomach no less, then you’re out of your mind. You can stay in the spare bedroom, or I can organise a car to take you back, but anything else? Forget it.”
Peter bit his lip. “I don’t think—”
“Stay!” Morgan called from the couch, turning to stare at him from over the cushions. “There’s more pizza and we’re going to order ice-cream. You should stay.”
“But—”
Morgan put her best pleading expression on full-blast. “Please? I need your help to check the flowers tomorrow. They’re for Christmas decorations! High-stakes!”
Peter's eyes flickered back and forth between them several times before he crumbled. “Alright, fine. I’ll stay! But I can just stay in the shed, I don’t need to—”
“Absolutely not,” Pepper said, pulling the oven door open to check the pizzas. “We have a spare bedroom for a reason.”
“Really, Pepper, I don’t mind.” Peter glanced at Morgan, who had shifted half her focus back to the TV. “I don’t want to make anyone feel uncomfortable.”
“Don't be silly.” Pepper lowered her voice. “After how casual you were about the… sharp situation a few weeks ago, I’d feel a lot more comfortable knowing you’re inside with the rest of us, where FRIDAY can keep an eye on you.”
He wrestled with that for a few seconds before finally relenting. “Okay. If you’re sure it’s alright.”
“I am.” Pepper added another—more reasonably dressed pizza—to the oven, her voice returning to normal volume. “Though I’ll be even more sure if you can get Morgan not to order the chilli ice-cream.”
“Never!” Morgan spun back around and brandished the remote at her mother. “Don’t listen to her, it’s really good!”
“Ugh. Go on, then,” Pepper said, smiling. “Add some to the cart. You might as well add all the favourites so Peter can try them too.”
Morgan nodded. “Is there anything you don’t like, Peter?”
“Yeah… mint.” He winced. “Sorry. Everything else is fine, though.”
Morgan shook her head firmly. “Do not apologise! You’re allowed to have favourite foods, Petey.”
She turned back to the TV, muttering seriously as she looked over the flavours.
Pepper watched as Peter’s eyes widened.
“Uh, that was…”
“Scarily like me?” Pepper asked, huffing a laugh. “So I’ve been told. The puppy dog look and emotional guilt-tripping though, I take no credit for.”
“No,” Peter agreed knowingly, grinning at the back of the couch. “I can see she learnt that from the best.”
Pepper snorted.
“Yeah,” she said affectionately. “Yeah, she definitely did.”
Snow always made the world feel new, but the house Pepper descended to the following morning felt refreshed beyond the white carpet outside. Warm, with lingering scents of coffee and pancakes, coloured flowers littering the surface tops and hushed voices crowding the walls.
Calm. Peaceful.
Beautiful.
Pepper almost felt bad disturbing it, but it was too late—Peter had spotted her on the stairs.
He smiled. “Good morning!”
“Good morning.” Pepper resisted beelining for the coffee machine. “You’re both up early.”
“That’s my fault,” Peter said, chastised. “I’m not used to getting much sleep, so I tend to wake up after a few hours.”
“And I set an alarm with FRIDAY for whenever Peter woke up,” Morgan said, the bags under her eyes far too dark for Pepper’s liking.
“Which was…?”
Peter winced apologetically. “Around 4:00 a.m.”
“Ah.” Pepper chuckled, ignoring the thought of how tired Morgan was going to be later. “And what have you both been doing since then?”
“Planning,” Morgan replied enthusiastically. “We’ve been trying to work out how to quickly build eight more flower presses.”
“Oh, have you now?” Pepper asked, wandering towards the table. She paused at the sheer quantity of blueprints and calculations spread out before them. “And why, exactly, do you need ten flower presses?”
“What do you mean?” Morgan stared up at her in confusion. “To ramp up production, Mommy! You run a business, you should know this.”
“Not a pressed flower business,” Pepper said, amused. “Okay, let me rephrase my question: why do you need that many pressed flowers?”
“Morgan wants to make Christmas garlands,” Peter supplied. “If we can figure out how to make more pressed flowers quickly, and then also figure out how to string them together.” His eyes strayed to the half-torn pile of flowers sitting next to him, frowning.
Morgan gazed beseechingly at her mother. “Do you understand now?”
Pepper smiled wryly. “I understand that I missed a whole lot of action this morning.” She looked at Peter hopefully. “I don’t suppose there’s any pancakes left?”
His eyes widened. “Of course! I made enough for everyone; they’re in the fridge. And there’s coffee too, here let me get it.”
“Oh, you don’t need to—”
“I want to,” Peter said, jumping up. “It’s my way of saying thank you for letting me stay.”
“Not necessary,” Pepper told him, though she accepted his bustling through the kitchen without complaint. Behind them both, Morgan was glaring at one of the drawings, with what Pepper thought was too much intensity for a seven-year-old on a Sunday morning. “And you don’t have to rush out of here today, either. Stay as long as you like. We don’t have anything on, do we, Morgan?
Morgan shook her head, barely looking up.
“Yeah?” Peter asked, placing down the reheated breakfast in front of her. And coffee; thank God, coffee. “I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”
“Don’t be silly.” Pepper waved her fork at him dismissively. “We’ve got to finish decorating for Christmas—which you’re more than welcome to help with, though you don’t have to—but otherwise, we’re completely free.”
Peter grinned. “I’d love to help! Are you hosting Christmas this year, then?”
“We are,” Pepper confirmed. “Not a very big one, it’s normally just Happy, Rhodey, and a couple of the Avengers.”
“It sounds lovely,” Peter said earnestly. “That’s the best way to spend Christmas. Ours were always small, too.”
Pepper hesitated, but it felt rude not to ask.
“What do you do now? Do you spend it with friends?”
“Oh.” He shrugged, smiling in that fake way of his. “Sort of. I volunteer at a Community Centre in the morning; my aunt used to work there. And in the afternoons I—well, I tend to just… drop by the office, to be honest.”
Morgan finally looked up from her drawing, alarmed.
Pepper couldn't agree more. The office?!
“Well, you’re more than welcome to drop by here in the afternoon instead, if you’d like,” she offered gently. “There’s plenty of room, and we always have more than enough food.”
For several seconds, Peter simply stared at her.
“You… you’re…” he took a deep breath, collecting himself. “Are you inviting me to Christmas?”
Pepper nodded firmly. “I am. We’d love to have you. Though I should warn you, the kids will be all over you.”
“Please come!” Morgan said, pushing into the table and leveraging herself off the chair from sheer anticipation. “It’ll be so much fun! You can meet all the Barton’s! And Bruce and Uncle Rhodey, too.”
“I—uh—” Peter stammered. “I don’t know what to say.”
“That’s easy,” Pepper said. “Say you’ll think about it.”
He nodded as if in a daze. “Okay. Yeah, sure. I’ll, um… I’ll think about it.”
“Yippee!”
Grinning from ear to ear, Morgan grabbed two fistfuls of flowers, throwing them into the air. They landed, scattered across the floor, in a colourful kaleidoscope of mess.
Pepper couldn’t even pretend to be mad.
[5:03PM] Happy: Did you seriously let the kid stay overnight?
[5:05PM] Pepper: Are you spying on us now? How do you know that?
[5:06PM] Happy: Morgan texted me
[5:08PM] Pepper: Morgan doesn’t have a phone
[5:08PM] Happy: She has a FRIDAY
[5:09PM] Happy: You’re avoiding the question
[5:10PM] Pepper: Fine. Yes, I let Peter stay overnight
[5:12PM] Happy: Are you aware of how dangerous that sounds?
[5:12PM] Happy: And risky
[5:15PM] Pepper: We’ve been over this. He isn’t a threat
[5:15PM] Pepper: Also, you’re forgetting
[5:16PM] Pepper: I have a FRIDAY
[5:18PM] Happy: Not funny
[5:19PM] Pepper: It’s a little funny
[5:19PM] Happy: No
[3:32AM] Peter: Hey, about Christmas
[3:35AM] Peter: Are you sure I wouldn’t be intruding?
[6:22AM] Pepper: Not at all
[6:24AM] Pepper: It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve had an extra
[6:25AM] Pepper: If you want to come, you should
[6:26AM] Pepper: Don’t worry about anyone else
[9:49AM] Peter: Okay 😊
[9:49AM] Peter: Then I’d love to come!
[9:50AM] Peter: And I would say thank you, but…
[9:52AM] Pepper: Oh, you’re learning!
[9:53AM] Pepper: Yes, a thank you is completely unnecessary
[9:53AM] Pepper: But you’re welcome
[9:55AM] Peter: 🙄
[9:56AM] Peter: Should I bring anything?
[9:58AM] Pepper: You can cook something if you like, otherwise we always seem to run out of soft drinks 😊
[10:01AM] Peter: Soft drinks it is!
[10:12AM] Pepper: So… should I ask why you were up at 3am?
[10:19AM] Peter: Um…
[10:21AM] Peter: I was working
[10:29AM] Pepper: Ah, of course
[10:30AM] Pepper: Did you get any good photos?
[10:42AM] Peter: They’re okay
[10:46AM] Peter: I think Spider-Man was a bit tired
[10:48AM] Pepper: Maybe he should try to get some more sleep
[10:29AM] Pepper: Even superheroes need to rest now and then
[10:50AM] Peter: Yeah, maybe
[10:51AM] Peter: Unlikely
[10:51AM] Peter: But maybe
[10:53AM] Pepper: 🙄
[1:12PM] Pepper: Hi everyone, just a heads-up that I’ve invited a family friend so there’s going to be one extra at Christmas 😊
[1:16PM] Laura: No worries Pepper, thanks for letting us know!
[1:25PM] Happy: Who did you invite?
[1:25PM] Happy: It’s the kid, isn’t it?
[1:32PM] Pepper: Yes
[1:33PM] Pepper: It’s not up for debate
[1:33PM] Pepper: My house, my guests
[1:40PM] Happy: Is that why you asked to host this year?
[1:41PM] Pepper: Would you believe me if I said no?
[1:44PM] Happy: Probably not
Time in the lead-up to Christmas always reminded Pepper of Tony. Disappearing when it shouldn’t, and seemingly intent on reminding her that control was nothing more than an illusion.
But unlike in previous years, Pepper had no space for dwelling. Her life was the busiest it had been in months—between purchasing various presents, ensuring the house stayed semi-presentable and suitably Christmassy, and then actually cooking—she barely remembered to breathe, let alone think.
It was, in many ways, a blessing. For the first time in years, Pepper’s mind felt at ease. She could sit beside the Christmas tree, coffee in hand, the scent of pine enveloping her, and despite the long list of tasks, her body was relaxed. Languid. Still. Almost… quiet.
And yet, time refused to slow. One day, Peter was helping put up lights on the roof—or stringing up the homemade floral garlands—and the next, the doorbell was ringing to signal their first guests’ arrival.
“I’ll get it!” Morgan yelled, barrelling down the hallway from the other side of the house. “Wait! Don’t get it without me!”
“I’m not,” Pepper said as her daughter ran past, having made no move from the kitchen. “It won’t be the Barton’s yet, though.”
She was right—it wasn’t.
It was Bruce, followed closely by Happy and Rhodey. Exactly as expected. The Barton’s were always a little late, and with Peter’s early volunteering, he wouldn’t arrive for at least another half hour. Pepper hoped his late arrival would be for the best; that if she was lucky, she could fend off all the questions before he even made an appearance.
The trick, it seemed, was going to be avoiding saying it all twice.
Because as soon as the customary greetings were exchanged by the front door, the topic turned straight to Peter. Happy’s fault, but Pepper suspected Morgan wasn’t far behind.
“So where’s the kid?” Happy asked, glancing along the hallway as if he expected him to suddenly pop out from behind a wall.
Pepper rolled her eyes. “He’s not here yet.”
“Which kid?” Rhodey asked, frowning. “Maguna’s right there.”
“The family friend,” Bruce guessed. “Someone Happy knows too?”
“Not by choice,” Happy grunted. “A potential security risk.”
Pepper shook her head. “Ignore him. He’s in a mood. Come on in, I’ll explain once the others get here.”
“Did you hear that?” Rhodey muttered to Happy. “You’re in a mood.”
“Is that somehow different to the mood he’s been in his whole life?” Bruce asked, wryly.
“Ha ha,” Happy deadpanned. “Just trust me. You’ll see when he gets here.”
“No, they won’t,” Pepper argued back, turning towards the kitchen. “Because there’s nothing dangerous about him.”
Clint’s voice came from somewhere beyond the open door. “Nothing dangerous about who?”
Morgan squealed, dashing out past Clint and Laura in favour of their children. “Hi!”
“Hi to you too, little Stark.” Clint wandered into the house and repeated his question. “Nothing dangerous about who?”
Rhodey waved a hand. “Some new kid. Like that time you brought the girl along… Karen?”
“Kate,” Pepper corrected. “Seriously, Rhodey? You and Happy are both terrible at names.”
The men exchanged shrugs.
Bruce frowned. “I take it Ms Bishop isn’t joining us today, then?”
“Nope,” Clint replied, with poorly faked relief. “She’s with a friend. And FYI Pepper, all kids are dangerous. Don't ever let your guard down.”
Pepper sent Laura a questioning look as Clint wedged past her. He led the way to the kitchen, dumping various bags onto the counter.
Laura shook her head in response. “Don’t ask. Something to do with Cooper and the lawn mower.”
She gazed around the main room and smiled. “You’ve outdone yourself Pepper. This looks beautiful. Who made the flowers?”
“Thank you,” Pepper said, with a pointed look at Happy and Rhodey, both of whom had commented—at one point or another—that she was putting too much effort into the lunch. “And that would be Morgan and Peter.”
“Peter,” Laura repeated, her kind smile still in place. “That’s the family friend, then?”
Pepper nodded as loud laughter filtered in front outside. “Why don’t you all grab a drink and then I can explain? It’s a bit of a long story.”
“The best kind,” Bruce said, with a genuine smile.
Clint, somewhat predictably, rolled his eyes and murmured something under his breath.
Bruce glanced at him, both amused and exasperated. “Did you just call me a suck up?”
“What, me? Why would you even—”
Laura sent him a stern look. “Ten minutes. You promised me ten minutes of being polite, Clint.”
Clint sighed and rolled his eyes. “That I did. Why did I do that again?”
“Because you love me,” Laura replied, taking Pepper’s hand and pulling her towards the wine glasses. “And because you didn’t have a choice.”
“Ah. There it is.”
Laura pointed at him. “Ten. Minutes.” She directed it towards the other men, now snickering. “And that goes for you too.”
Happy’s grin faded as Laura turned her attention towards the drinks.
“Well,” he said sourly. “Now I really am in a mood.”
Rhodey clapped a hand on his back. “Good. Then Christmas has officially started.”
In spite of her misgivings, Pepper explained Peter’s presence ahead of his arrival with time to spare. She was nothing if not efficient, courtesy of the many years spent briefing Stark Industries employees.
Predictably, no one shared the extent of Happy’s concerns, though Pepper had to admit it was something of an unfair comparison; for the sake of Peter’s privacy, she’d left out any mention of his abilities. A decision that Happy blatantly disapproved of—based on his expression throughout her story—but one that Pepper stood by.
There were a million ways to justify Pepper keeping that particular piece of information to herself. For one, Peter didn't know these people. For another, he’d never done anything to suggest he was a risk to anyone’s safety: she was almost 100% sure he was Spider-Man, for Christ’s sake.
But in the end, it just wasn’t Pepper’s secret to tell. Nor was it Happy’s, and for all their disagreements, that was a view they seemed to share. Instead, the man settled for sending disapproving scowls Pepper’s way, which lasted all the way up until the point that Morgan’s excited shrieks from outside announced the appearance of their final visitor.
“Petey! Are those presents?!”
“What? No! No presents here. Your mum told me not to buy any presents, remember?”
“Yeah, but then I heard you talking later—”
“Sorry Mo! I’ve got to put these drinks inside, they’re super heavy. I’ll come back outside to meet everyone in a sec, okay?”
Peter bustled into the kitchen, grumbling to himself. “Ears like a bat, how did she even hear—”
“Hey Peter,” Pepper said smiling, and Peter spun around quickly, his arms full of colorfully wrapped boxes.
“Hey Pepper,” he said guiltily, before his eyes slipped to the others in the room. He gulped. “Hi, everyone else.”
Pepper raised an eyebrow. “I really did say no presents.”
“It’s Christmas!” Peter objected, smiling uncertainly as he returned several waves. “Also, in my defence, I was planning to just hide them under the tree so you wouldn’t know they were from me.”
Rhodey looked at him in amusement. “And where did you think we’d be?”
Peter shrugged. “Um… outside? I guess?”
Clint snorted. “With the kids? Absolutely not.”
“Yeah, I can see now that was a mistake,” Peter admitted. He glanced back at the door curiously. “I think they’re prepping for a snowball fight.”
“They will be,” Laura said. “We have one every year when it snows. It’s very competitive.”
Peter grinned. “Awesome.”
Pepper stood up, unable to suppress the instinct any longer. “How are you? Did you have time to eat something?”
“Uh… I think so?”
Pepper gave him a look. “You think so?”
“It’s been a busy morning,” Peter said, abashed.
Pepper grabbed the cheese platter, now even more intent on replenishing it. “Sit, I’ll get some more. Happy, can you handle the introductions?”
Laura stepped in before Happy—brow furrowed—could reply. “I’ve got it.”
“Thanks,” Pepper said gratefully, flashing Peter a reassuring smile as she retreated to the kitchen. It was only several paces away, but she was still concerned about leaving him alone: with Peter feeling like something of a spectacle. But at the same time, she suspected they only had a small window before the kids returned, either asking about lunch or Peter—or both.
Again, however, Pepper didn’t need to worry. Peter’s nerves seemed to ease with each exchange, including a somewhat random comment directed at Clint and Laura, expressing how impressed he was by the privacy surrounding their family. And when he leaned forward with the eagerness of a student in Bruce’s direction, even Happy couldn’t fight a small smile at his excitement.
“I just have to say, Dr Banner—”
“Bruce,” Bruce corrected, and Peter nodded quickly.
“Right, Bruce. I just have to say your work on anti-electron collisions is incredible. No one else even comes close. Really, it’s unparalleled.”
A fleeting look of déjà vu passed over Bruce's face. “You’ve read my work?”
Peter nodded again. “I’ve read all your papers, Dr—Bruce. I’m a huge fan.”
“And a huge nerd,” Clint added, without malice.
Peter laughed sheepishly. “Yeah, that too.”
“Thanks,” Bruce replied, his cheeks a little red. “It’s rare to meet someone genuinely interested in my research. Where do you go to college?”
Pepper suppressed a wince.
“Oh.” Peter appeared to momentarily shrink at the question before bouncing back. “I don’t. I’m taking some time off. Just working, you know how it is.”
Bruce smiled politely, but Pepper knew him well enough to read his confusion.
“What do you do for work?” Laura asked politely.
“I’m a freelance photographer,” Peter said, attempting an air of confidence. “But most of my pictures are purchased by the Daily Bugle. So, uh… almost the opposite of college, really.”
There was a beat of silence.
Rhodey broke first, his snickers quickly turning into a fully-fledged chuckle. “Well, I wasn’t going to say it…”
The rest of the room followed suit, and Pepper’s hand relaxed as she tore open another box of crackers. Still, she filed the college conversation away for later, somewhat bothered by Peter’s answer. For all the time they’d spent talking about the past, she realised she’d rarely asked about his future.
Refilled cheese board in hand, she returned to the others, squeezing Peter’s shoulder as she placed the food down. He responded to her questioning look with a reassuring grin, his eyes so bright that Pepper felt her breath catch. He looked so young, as if he’d aged backwards several years.
Even a decade later, Pepper couldn’t explain why that moment was the catalyst for what came next. All she knew was that Peter deserved joy, and seeing it so plainly on his face highlighted just how rarely it had been there before. It turned any flicker of shame at her own failures into resolve, and instead of sitting down, Pepper straightened back up.
“I’ll be back,” she said to the questioning looks. “I just need to check on something.” She glanced at the presents on the bench behind them, then back at Peter. “You can put those under the tree if you like. Just watch out for anything that looks like it’s been wrapped blindfolded; I can’t vouch for the safety of Morgan’s gifts.”
“Noted,” Peter said, adding cheekily, “but I thought we’d said no presents.”
“Yeah, well…” Pepper shook her head, exasperated. “Let’s just agree that it’s lucky you both didn’t listen to me, and leave it there, shall we?”
Light flooded the basement as Pepper wound her way downstairs. Subconsciously, she noted the evidence of Morgan’s out-of-bounds rummaging—upturned boxes and piles of tools scattered about. It was now more in line with Tony’s preference for the space than with Pepper’s grief-fueled tidying in the months after his death. Ignoring Morgan’s transgression—it was Christmas, after all—Pepper continued to the back.
The glass doors opened automatically as she approached. Pepper stepped into the only space truly off-limits for her daughter, her gaze drawn to the fabricator standing in silent vigil in the corner. Setting her shoulders, she closed the distance and pressed one of the few buttons she knew how to use.
“FRIDAY?”
The machine below whirred to life as she turned it on, just as it had two years prior, on the day of its last use.
“Yes, Ms Potts?” FRIDAY replied, voice strangely hushed in the lab dedicated to her creator.
“The final suit Tony designed,” Pepper said, spreading a hand delicately on the flat surface, the metal cool against her palm. “Are the schematics complete?”
“Almost.”
“Can you finish it using the previous designs?”
There was a brief pause.
“Yes,” FRIDAY said. “I can.”
Pepper nodded. “Good. If you start now, how soon can it be ready?”
The fabricator’s arms stirred.
“A few days,” FRIDAY answered. “Quicker, if I draw power from the main house overnight.”
Pepper shook her head, thinking of the peaceful scene she’d just left upstairs. “A few days is fine. It would have been nice to have it earlier, but… it’s not urgent. He’s not going anywhere.”
There was another pause. Pepper could almost sense the calculations occurring in the space overhead.
“Some manual wiring will be required towards the end,” FRIDAY said. “Based on my observations to date, Mr Parker should be capable of assisting. Otherwise, Dr Banner may be an alternative option. I would advise against allowing Mini Boss to help, though she will no doubt try.”
“Yes,” Pepper agreed dryly. “I agree. I’ll keep that in mind. Can you alert me when it’s done? Discreetly, please. I don’t want anyone else finding out.”
“Understood, Ms Potts. I’ll send a text to your phone at 95% completion.”
“Thanks, FRIDAY.” Pepper shook her head ruefully. “What would I do without you?”
“Find an alternative Christmas present,” FRIDAY said wryly, and Pepper laughed. “But I really have no doubt you’d manage just fine on your own, Ms Potts.”
Pepper directed a genuine smile at the roof. “Thank you. I can’t say I share your confidence, but thank you.”
The lightbulbs faded as Pepper left, shrouding the space in near darkness once more. But now, tucked away at the edge of the room, the fabricator stayed on, emitting a soft blue glow as it picked up speed with every second. If Pepper squinted hard enough, she could almost see a figure hunched over the side—and hear the whispers of the many Christmas arguments they never got to have.
Peter—along with half the cheese board—was gone when Pepper returned to the living room. Voluntary or not, he’d apparently been enlisted to aid with the snowfight preparations outside.
Rhodey raised an eyebrow as Pepper sat back on the couch, wine glass in hand. “So, that’s Memorial Boy, huh?”
“Or Peter.” Pepper took a sip. “But yes, that’s him.”
“And he says he knew Tony?”
“He admitted, very reluctantly, that they’d spent some time together.”
Rhodey nodded thoughtfully. “I can see the two of them in a lab together, forgetting to eat and sleep, running on caffeine alone.”
Pepper snorted. “So can I.”
“He’s smart,” Bruce agreed, watching Peter out the window as he tested a snowball against a nearby tree. “The anti-electron collision stuff… most college graduates struggle to understand it. And Tony said the same thing when we first met—he called it ‘unparalleled’. Right before he congratulated me on becoming an ‘Enormous Green Rage Monster’.”
“Sounds like Tony,” Rhodey said, smiling.
Happy was frowning at Pepper, his mind apparently elsewhere. “Why didn’t you tell me he was a photographer?”
Pepper blinked. “What?”
“Peter,” Happy clarified. “Why didn’t you tell me he worked as a freelance photographer?”
“Oh.” Pepper shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t think it mattered.” Her brow furrowed. “Does it matter?”
Happy stewed on his words for a moment.
Pepper narrowed her eyes in his direction. “Happy…”
“Fine. No, I guess not.” He sighed. “What the hell, it’s Christmas. And he’s a nice kid, alright? I can admit that. Does he remind me of Morgan sometimes, who’s almost two decades younger than him? Yes. But does he remind me of her in the same ways that she reminds me of Tony? Also, yes. Whatever.” He shook his head. “But I worry about you both, okay? It’s my job to worry, Pepper.”
“I know,” Pepper said patiently. “But we can’t spend our whole lives existing in bubble wrap, just because we’re a man down.”
He stared at her, shocked. Briefly, it occurred to Pepper that she’d never discussed Tony’s death so casually before.
That, perhaps, the pain was a tiny bit less than it used to be.
“She’s right,” Laura said. She nodded out the window. “Look at him. He’s a lost kid, Happy. He’s not a bomb waiting to go off.”
Happy rubbed a hand over his face.
“He can be both,” he muttered. Then he seemed to deflate, shaking his head at himself. “But maybe you’re right—”
There was a choked noise from Rhodey.
“—I’ll cut him some slack. Until the holidays are over, at least.”
Pepper rolled her eyes, though inside she was smiling. “How generous of you.”
When no one else spoke, all eyes turned to Clint, the only one who hadn’t contributed to the conversation thus far. He shook his head. “Nuh-uh. We promised no more sappiness this year. At least not until after lunch.”
Laura elbowed him with a smirk. “Come on. Share your thoughts with the group.”
“Ugh, fine.” Clint sent a glare around the room, settling on Bruce. Pepper thought of it like a default setting, as the only other Avenger present. “Let’s see. Can I imagine them both causing me a headache? Yes. Absolutely. No question about it.”
Laura nodded encouragingly, motioning with her hand to continue.
“Nope,” Clint replied, reaching for a cracker. “That’s as much as you’re going to get. No more until after lunch.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” Laura said, pointedly checking her watch. “Prepare for an emotional onslaught in approximately two hours’ time.”
“And is that before or after the snowball fight?”
“Well, it might not be much of a fight,” Bruce said, frowning as he stared out the window. “Given that Morgan and Peter seem to have some sort of catapult mechanism going on out there.”
“What?!” Pepper stood up, barely managing not to spill her wine. “I swear, I leave them alone for ten minutes…”
Clint cleared his throat, nodding slowly as he glanced between Pepper’s exasperated expression and the pair in question.
“Oh yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I definitely see it now. That’s some Stark-level frustration right there. Should I go ahead and draw up the adoption papers?”
Pepper sent him a half-hearted glare.
“Can it, Barton.”
Christmas lunch was always a study in organised chaos. Pepper doubted even Natasha Romanoff could keep track of all the conversations happening at once, converging and then diverging between topics simultaneously. Never one for a children’s table, everyone was intermingled in the dining room, voices broken only by the sound of cutlery.
Still, people had a way of self-separating. The younger generation settled at one end, while the older generations took the other. Pepper found herself sitting about halfway along the table, with Morgan on one side and Laura on the other. Across from her, Peter was wedged between Cooper and Bruce, shifting between a discussion on physics and the latest Star Wars reboot.
While Pepper had long ago accepted that Christmas would never quite be perfect ever again, she had to admit this was pretty darn close—even if it looked like there might not be enough ham, pear salad, or wine…
“Stop worrying,” Laura said, bumping against Pepper's shoulder gently. “You’ve done a great job; everything’s lovely.”
Pepper grimaced. “Is it that obvious?”
“Obvious and completely unwarranted,” Laura confirmed. “Remind me, how many events have you organised for Stark Industries by now?”
“It’s not the same,” Pepper protested. “That’s business. This is family.”
“Exactly,” Laura said. “Which means that even if something did go wrong, we’d all understand.”
Pepper huffed, though she knew Laura was right. For all their grumblings, no one at the table would blame Pepper if something went awry.
“And in all honesty…” Laura continued, smiling. “I don’t think it's the food people would be complaining about.” She glanced up at the dried flowers dangling overhead, the apparent cause of several earlier sneezing fits.
Pepper’s mouth twisted. “Would you believe this is less than what was originally planned?”
Laura raised an eyebrow. “Actually, yes. But only because Lila told me that Morgan originally wanted a thousand.”
“Yeah.” Pepper rolled her eyes. “She said she wanted it to ‘feel like the lantern scene from Tangled but with flowers’. I told her we wouldn’t be able to get that many done in time even if we wanted to.”
“A great film,” Laura said. “But maybe a little ambitious. Where did you get the flowers from?”
Pepper nodded towards Peter. “Peter picked them up from a local florist. I’m not sure if they loved him or hated him for leaving it almost empty.”
“You bought them?” Clint asked, staring at Pepper from around Laura, clearly listening to their conversation. “Why didn’t you just buy dried flowers?”
“Because Morgan wanted to dry them,” Pepper replied, as if it was obvious. “And because it’s Christmas and it was a nice project.”
“And because it kept her out of trouble?” Laura asked pointedly.
Pepper laughed. “That too.”
“Told you,” Clint muttered. “Monsters, the lot of them.”
Pepper raised her eyebrows, not letting the comment go this time.
“Cooper put the wrong fuel in the lawn mower,” Laura explained softly, looking like she was trying very hard to keep a straight face. She cast a quick glance past Pepper, confirming that Morgan and the others were still immersed in their own conversation. “He said he wanted to be helpful, but Clint thinks he did it on purpose.”
“Of course he did! He’s annoyed I grounded him before that party. The kid drives a car, he knows which fuel goes where.” Clint sent a glare at the other end of the table. “Not only was it a dangerous prank, it was also a good mower.”
“It was terrible,” Laura said bluntly. “You almost threw your back out trying to get it to start. I think the days of you operating a pull-start mower are over, Clint.”
He frowned. “I was fine. The point is, it worked before, and now it doesn’t.”
Laura simply shook her head. “Let it go, hun.”
Clint grumbled in obvious disagreement.
“Uh…” Peter shuffled awkwardly across the table. “Sorry to interrupt, but have you tried draining the tank?”
The three other adults stared at him.
“And if that doesn’t work,” he continued, “there are fuel flush additives you can try—I think? Or even install a new filter. I’m not exactly sure; Tony talked me through it a few times…” Peter’s cheeks turned pink, and he trailed off. “You probably know all this, though.”
“He doesn’t,” Cooper interrupted flatly. “I tried telling him that, but he didn’t listen.”
“We even found a YouTube video of how to do it,” Lila added. “But he doesn’t trust it.”
“It’s not that I don’t trust—” Clint waved them away. “You know what? I don’t have to explain myself to you.”
His children rolled their eyes.
“That’s a Dad line if I ever heard one,” Rhodey said, further down the table.
Bruce nodded. “That’s why he kept his family a secret; he didn’t want us to see him in normal—probably overprotective—Dad Mode.”
“I am not overprotective.”
Cooper snorted. “You wouldn’t let me go to a party.”
“Because you were grounded,” Clint pointed out. “And I think we’re veering away from the Christmas spirit here. Aren’t there presents? Let’s do presents. Where’s our Santa?”
He stared down the end, where Happy frowned. “Why are you looking at me? I’ve never been Santa.”
“I thought you might have finally decided to start.”
“I do many things,” Happy said. “But dressing up as Santa is not one of them.”
“Who cares about Santa?” Morgan said dismissively. Pepper wasn’t sure when, exactly, her daughter had stopped believing in the legend of the man who circled the globe to deliver presents, but she had. Pepper was just grateful it was a detail she mostly kept to herself. “We don’t need him when we have presents!”
Morgan gazed hopefully at Pepper, the question clear in her eyes. Next to her, the rest of the Barton clan mirrored the same expression, directed at their own parents.
Pepper looked around at the half-eaten food regretfully; maybe she hadn’t made too much after all.
“Alright,” she said. “As long as everyone is finished—”
The tables’ only response was a jarring scraping sound, as four chairs were hastily pushed backwards.
There was an agreed upon rule that the adults didn’t get presents—and yet, Pepper was unable to recall ever leaving a Barton Christmas without something in hand. It was an inside joke at this point, to see how many presents someone could hide underneath the tree without anyone knowing—one which, it seemed, Peter had planned to unknowingly contribute to. Last year, Pepper had even arrived home to find a gift from Rhodey hidden in the back of her car. But it also meant that Pepper wasn’t particularly surprised when she found a small, unfamiliar-looking box tucked away at the back.
Even if it was wrapped in the exact same paper stored away in the cupboard upstairs.
Turning it over gently, Pepper spied Peter’s name on the back, spelled out in careful lettering. The handwriting was neat, if slightly uncoordinated; one she recognised instantly as Morgan’s.
Pepper smiled, catching her daughter’s eye as she passed the final gift to Peter. For a second, Morgan’s expression shifted to trepidation and Pepper paused—but it was quickly overridden with excitement.
“That’s from me,” Morgan said, unnecessarily. Peter stared at her; it could not have been more obvious that despite seeing them earlier, he hadn’t expected to get any gifts. “I know Mommy got you the books and the old man jumpers, but I wanted to give you something as well.”
“Mo—” Peter protested.
“I wanted to,” Morgan replied stubbornly, all uncertainty vanishing from her face as she sat upright from within her own pile of presents. “No complaints.”
Pepper choked back a laugh at Peter’s expression.
“Just listen to her,” Rhodey said. “It’s easier that way.”
Peter struggled with himself for a moment.
“Uncle Rhodey is right,” Morgan advised him. “And you’ll like it! I promise.”
Peter relented and rolled his eyes, smiling. “Okay, fine. I accept your gift, Morgan.”
“Good choice,” Morgan said, beaming back.
“Well go on then, open it!” Cooper urged Peter, Nathaniel bobbing encouragingly from next to his brother. Laura looked close to reprimanding them for their impatience, but apparently decided better of it.
Peter glanced around, taken aback by their sudden focus. “Is everyone going to watch?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” Clint said. “You’re the last one and that's how it works. For some reason.”
“Another thing that’s easier to just accept,” Bruce said, with a smile.
“But if you don’t want to—” Pepper started, and Peter shook his head.
“No, it’s fine.” He turned the box over, pulling apart the wrapping paper gently at the seams, before carefully opening the cardboard flaps.
His mouth dropped open. “Ah.”
“What is it?” Nathaniel asked eagerly.
Peter glanced towards Pepper, unsure. She nodded encouragingly.
“Do you like it?” Morgan asked nervously.
“I love it,” Peter told her firmly—and, decision made, he pulled two items from the box. “It’s a Keep Cup and an access pass. Both um… for Stark Industries.”
As one, everyone turned to stare at Morgan in shock. Pepper now understood both her daughter and Peter’s hesitance. Happy, in particular, looked dumbstruck. “How did you…”
“I thought you could use the cup for your coffee on the weekends,” Morgan hurried to explain. “It’s better for the environment! And it has your name on the side, see: Peter Parker. All of Mommy’s friends have them. But then I asked FRIDAY what would happen if you needed to talk to Mom at work, and she said you couldn’t get in, so I thought you should have a key as well.”
“It’s perfect,” Peter said sincerely, though his eyes still looked uncertain. He was clearly putting Morgan’s own feelings above his own misgivings. Pepper felt a nagging in the back of her mind, but there was no time to investigate—Happy seemed liable to explode at any moment.
“That’s very thoughtful of you, Morgan,” Pepper said swiftly. She smiled briefly at Peter, trying to convey that he could relax. “Even though Peter isn’t an employee and hopefully won’t need to—”
Happy cut off her attempts at placating.
“It was you,” he said. He was staring at Peter with wide eyes; Pepper was forced to consider that maybe she'd misread his earlier expression. He seemed almost… flabbergasted. “That’s where I know you from. You were at May’s grave.”
“I—”
“You said you knew her through Spider-Man. But that’s not true, is it? You’re related to her.” He shook his head, his words quickly turning accusatory. “Who are you?”
Peter’s gaze went straight to Pepper. “I can explain.”
“Peter, it’s—”
“Argh, this is—it’s all so messed up.” He ran both hands through his hair, expression pleading. “It wasn’t meant to be like this. It wasn’t—no one was supposed to know.”
Pepper frowned and aimed for gentle, coaxing him through his distress the same way she did for Morgan. “No one was supposed to know what, Peter?”
He shook his head—Pepper could see him shutting down. “I should go. I should just—”
Morgan jumped to her feet. “No! You’re not spending Christmas alone.” She glared around the room. “He’s staying.”
“I’m confused,” Clint said, glancing between the four of them. “What’s happening?”
“May Parker was Happy’s girlfriend,” Pepper explained, though that almost exhausted all of the information she could offer. She felt terrible for failing to make the connection earlier, her only defense that Parker was a fairly common surname—and that, in general, she tried not to think about everyone else they’d lost. “But she passed away last year.”
“She was killed,” Peter corrected forcefully, the first time Pepper had ever heard him use such a tone. “Murdered by the Green Goblin.” He seemed to draw strength from somewhere. “It was my fault.”
Silence followed. Peter took a deep breath and met Happy’s gaze.
“I’m her nephew,” he said eventually. “I didn’t tell you then for the same reason I haven’t told you before now. Because it doesn’t matter. You don’t remember me.”
Happy’s eyes narrowed. “I never met you.”
Peter nodded. “Yes, you did. A lot, actually. Except then there were all these aliens and magic, so you forgot. Everyone forgot. And I promise I can explain it better, but it’s a super long story—and really depressing—and to be honest, I’d rather just not talk about it on Christmas. But I understand if that’s not enough and I can leave if you want me to.”
Pepper wanted to protest, but she forced herself to keep her mouth shut. Like with Peter’s enhanced genetics, this wasn’t her place to comment. Even Morgan and the Barton kids seemed to sense they should stay quiet. It was Happy’s chance to respond—and for all their disagreements, Pepper trusted that when it came to May, he would make the right call.
“What do you mean it was your fault?” Happy asked finally.
“I made a choice,” Peter replied simply. “Maybe if I’d made a different one, she’d still be here.”
Happy’s face was unreadable. “That day at the cemetery… you said the things they stood for aren’t gone; that all the people she helped would pass it on. So, this morning…”
Peter nodded. “I was volunteering at FEAST. I like to help, and it’s what she would have wanted.” He surveyed the room. “That’s partly why I’m here, too. I tried to stay away—I didn’t want to make everything complicated. But… I guess I’m not very good at being by myself.” He shrugged. “I do better around people.”
“May was the same.” Happy stared at Peter as if seeing him for the first time. “You’re really her nephew?”
“Yeah. Her and my Uncle Ben.” Peter looked suddenly exhausted. “FRIDAY probably has his biometrics on file if you want to run a facial comparison. You know how she loves a background check.”
“No,” Happy said quickly. His face twisted in confusion. “No, that’s—I believe you, kid. I don't know why, but I do. And May would have… she would have wanted you to stay.” He seemed to catch himself, glancing around furtively at the rest of the group. “Uh, if that’s alright with everyone else.”
The others exchanged looks.
Rhodey shrugged, though he was looking at Peter curiously. “I don’t mind.”
Bruce shook his head. “Me neither.”
“I genuinely have no idea what just happened,” Clint said.
“And I’m with Pepper,” Laura added, last. “If she says you can stay, that’s good enough for me.”
Peter looked to the woman in question, who met his worried lines with a reassuring smile.
“Of course you can stay,” Pepper said. “Did you think I fought to get you here only to have you leave because of some aliens and a magic spell? Bruce vanished for a whole year to another planet. No contact, and we still invited him to our wedding”
Bruce chuckled awkwardly. “That’s true. I did.”
“But”—Pepper directed a finger at Peter, perhaps somewhat less concerned by this new revelation than she should have been—“I will be taking you up on that full explanation at a later stage.”
“I think we all will,” Bruce agreed.
“Actually, I’m good.” Clint waved a hand. “You don’t owe us every bit of information about you, kid.”
Cooper rolled his eyes. “Of course, you’d be the one to say that.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Clint asked, frowning.
“Roni—”
Laura cut across Cooper before he could finish. “That it’s snowball fight time, I think.” She sent a pointed look at Clint. “Unless you’d rather make good on your earlier promise.”
Clint baulked. “Snowball fight it is.”
By some unspoken agreement, Pepper and Peter lingered by the tree as everyone else filed outside. Peter shifted from side to side, taking comfort in the encouraging smile Morgan sent his way as she left.
When the others were gone, he turned to Pepper. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? I practically lied—”
“No, Peter,” Pepper interrupted gently. “You didn’t lie. By the sound of things, you got in over your head. There’s a difference.”
Wordlessly, she held out her arms, and Peter stepped into the hug.
“We’ll figure it out,” she murmured. “But for now? We’re okay. I promise.”
She pulled back with a small grin. “At least until the snowball fight.”
Peter laughed, the sound light and genuine. Like his smile from earlier, it warmed Pepper more than the winter sun outside ever could—and was more than enough to cast any lingering questions or nagging thoughts aside.
If lunch was organised chaos, then the snowball fight was Wanda Maximoff's magic. Pure, unfiltered mayhem, with snow flying everywhere and shouts echoing across the lake.
It was without a doubt everyone’s favourite part of Christmas—when they were lucky enough to be blessed with snow. Clint specifically seemed to take great joy in hitting the children with a well-thrown snowball and collecting wins for the adult team. This year, however, with Peter and the catapult as an adversary, his sure victory was immediately contested.
“This bloody kid,” Clint muttered, crouching behind a hastily erected wall to save himself from Peter's onslaught. “It’s like he’s got eyes in the back of his head.”
“You recruiting?” Rhodey asked, bobbing up quickly to hurl a barely formed snowball at Lila's shoulder. “Ha! Take that!”
He swore as Morgan’s catapult swung back towards him. “I’m coming for you, Uncle Rhodey!”
Pepper shot the man a look from where she was methodically compacting more snow. “Don’t even joke about that. He’s not joining SHIELD.”
Rhodey rolled his eyes.
“Can you two stop joking around?” Clint asked, shooting a fully formed glare in their direction. “We’re getting absolutely destroyed! What the hell is Banner doing, anyway?”
Pepper risked a glance over the wall.
“The same as us,” she replied. “Cowering in fear.”
Clint shook his head. “None of this would be happening if I had my kit.”
Pepper paused in her snowball making. “Every year I’m concerned by how willing you are to shoot arrows at our children.”
“Modified arrows,” Clint said dismissively. “They wouldn’t hurt.” He frowned at the sky, then shook his head. “Fuck this. I’m going in. Bruce said to focus on the joints, right?”
Rhodey nodded. “Take those out, the whole thing comes down.”
“Okay.” Clint snatched up as many snowballs as he could carry. “Wish me luck.”
Pepper nodded, mock solemn. “Good luck. Watch out for Cooper and his revenge.”
“I’m more worried about Peter,” Clint muttered, steeling himself. “Kid’s got the reflexes of a young me.”
“What were you saying about adoption papers?” Rhodey teased. “Looks like Pepper’s got some competition.”
Clint’s only response was a withering look, followed by a rapid countdown. “Alright. Three, two… one!”
Pepper didn’t watch his progress as he vaulted over the wall, making a mad dash for her daughter’s latest invention. Whether he succeeded in his goal of hitting the joints was unknown, but he must have done something—the air was suddenly filled with disgruntled shouts.
“Stay here!” Morgan yelled. “Man the fort! I’ll be back to fix it!”
“This is it,” Rhodey said to Pepper. “You ready?”
Pepper nodded, serious now that victory seemed within reach. “Let’s do this.”
“I’d tell you to watch out for the kid, but you and Happy seem to have some sort of immunity.”
She stuck her chin in the air. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Rhodey rolled his eyes, but there was no time to argue. They pushed forward with the others, passing Clint mid-retreat. He was rolling through the snow, desperately dodging Cooper’s relentless attack.
Ahead, Peter was unleashing a long-range assault, his aim still locked on Bruce and Rhodey. Lila and Nathaniel darted in and out of the fray, either launching their own throws or resupplying their teammates with fresh ammunition. They were a formidable force, prepped for battle—except for the catapult with a missing arm, abandoned in the snow like a forgotten relic.
The adults had nearly reached the base of their fort when Morgan reappeared, shouting something indecipherable over the commotion. Only when she was a few feet away did Pepper catch the words.
And by then, it was too late to stop them.
“THERE’S A SPIDER-MAN SUIT IN THE BASEMENT, MOM! AN ACTUAL, REALLY REAL, SPIDER-MAN SUIT!” Morgan paused just long enough to suck in a breath. “FRIDAY IS BUILDING A SPIDER-MAN SUIT!”
Pepper froze, saved only from being struck by a flurry of snowballs by the mere fact that neither Cooper nor Peter wanted to be the one to hit her.
Now, Morgan’s discovery certainly wasn’t ideal—perhaps she shouldn’t have been so quick to brush off her visits to the basement—but Pepper could fix this. She was used to handling crisis situations. Cool, calm, and collected, Pepper could protect Peter's final secr—
“You’re building me a suit?” Peter asked, staring at her with eyes wide, half-forgotten snowballs falling to the ground next to him. “What…? How…?” He shook his head. “I don’t even know where to start.”
There was complete and utter silence; Pepper could hear the gentle lapping of the nearby lake.
Bruce held up an uncertain hand, as if he was a student in a classroom afraid of disrupting the lesson. “Uh… I can think of a few places.”
Peter's face turned to one of chagrin. “Oh shi—oops.”
“Yeah,” Pepper managed through restrained laughter. “Oops.”
Morgan stared at Peter with huge, round eyes. “You’re Spider-Man?”
“Um…”
“Woah, hang on.” Clint pushed himself up from the snow. “I knew it! This kid’s been cheating the whole time!”
“Cheating?” Peter looked affronted. “How have I been cheating?”
“You’re enhanced! I knew your reflexes were too good—”
“You compared him to a young you,” Rhodey pointed out, amused. He appeared completely unbothered by this new information; Pepper supposed he’d heard stranger things.
“Exactly,” Clint grumbled. “Too good! So, I think—”
A snowball—courtesy of Happy—hit Clint squarely in the face.
“No arrows, Barton,” Happy said, looking more at ease than he had in weeks. “The kid hasn’t hit me once.”
Clint spluttered. “On purpose—”
“Morgan! Now!” Cooper yelled, and Morgan sprinted forwards towards the catapult, a wave of white following in her wake.
Peter’s secret identity re-forgotten, the snowball fight resumed.
Somehow, Happy found Pepper in the resuming madness. “Hell of a day, huh?”
Pepper huffed. “You can say that again.”
They watched as Peter slung Morgan up on his shoulders, raising her away from Rhodey’s handfuls of snow.
“Let me guess,” Pepper said. “You figured it out earlier?”
Happy grunted. “An enhanced kid who knew May through Spider-Man? Wasn’t that hard to figure out. And, you know, he takes photos of the guy. The freelance photographer: Peter Parker. I knew it was important.” He shook his head, exasperated. “He’s got all the subtlety of a Stark press conference.”
Pepper laughed. “Yeah. Well, something to work on.”
Happy nodded. “And the suit—it’ll protect him?”
A smile played at Pepper’s lips. “Careful, Happy. You’re starting to sound like you might actually care.”
Happy looked close to protesting when Peter caught his eye from across the field. After a moment of hesitation, Happy nodded and raised his hand in salute—his version of a hug, if Pepper ever saw one.
Peter beamed back.
“Maybe I do,” Happy admitted grudgingly. “He’s got heart. He cares and he steps up. The world needs more of that.”
Pepper smiled. “It does. Though I’d prefer if he didn't get stabbed again while doing it.”
“Stab—?”
Morgan's triumphant yell broke off Happy’s reply. “FIRE!”
Pepper just managed to dodge the attack aimed their way, whipping around with narrowed eyes. In response, Peter called out a half-hearted apology, a distinctly mischievous smile spreading across his face. Happy immediately bent down to scoop up some snow.
“But neighborhood hero or not,” he said, forming a firm ball. “If the kid’s decided we’re free game, then we’re officially at war.”
[12:02AM] Tony’s Favourite Chilli: Hey, honey
[12:03AM] Tony’s Favourite Chilli: Sorry it’s been so long
[12:03AM] Tony’s Favourite Chilli: We hosted Christmas today
[12:05AM] Tony’s Favourite Chilli: Morgan covered the entire house in flowers and built a catapult outside, so nothing new there
[12:06AM] Tony’s Favourite Chilli: Peter came too—and he explained a few things, when everyone else was gone
[12:12AM] Tony’s Favourite Chilli: Honestly, I’m not sure where to begin, except that everything makes a bit more sense
[12:13AM] Tony’s Favourite Chilli: But we have him now and he’s safe, and I’m not going to let anything happen to him again
[12:14AM] Tony’s Favourite Chilli: This time, I’ll make sure he knows he’s family and that I’m here if he needs help
[12:14AM] Tony’s Favourite Chilli: That’s a promise
[12:21AM] Tony’s Favourite Chilli: Also, I have a confession to make
[12:22AM] Tony’s Favourite Chilli: I didn’t want to do this—to text you like some grieving widow who couldn’t process her husband’s death
[12:22AM] Tony’s Favourite Chilli: Except that’s what I was, and the counsellor suggested I give it a go
[12:24AM] Tony’s Favourite Chilli: Because even though I told you that we’d be okay and that you could rest, I guess I wasn’t completely ready to make good on those words
[12:25AM] Tony’s Favourite Chilli: There was just too much missing
[12:25AM] Tony’s Favourite Chilli: There still is
[12:26AM] Tony’s Favourite Chilli: But I’ve found one more piece of the puzzle, and while I’m still not okay, I think it’s time to let this go
[12:28AM] Tony’s Favourite Chilli: To talk to you in other ways, through the people and parts of yourself that you actually left behind, not the void of some phone screen
[12:34AM] Tony’s Favourite Chilli: But I want you to know that it’s always you, Tony
[12:34AM] Tony’s Favourite Chilli: Always
[12:35AM] Tony’s Favourite Chilli: I love you 3000