The last couple of days have been a whirlwind of emotions for both Tony and you. Him, who had just found out he had not been as careful as he’d thought during one of his flings, and you, who now simply appeared to be the child of New York’s wealthiest man—more commonly known as the man of iron. Tony was detached, as if there was some kind of barrier separating you, that neither of you had figured how to bring down.

He was cold—not because he wanted to. Howard Stark had never been the best example of how a father figure should behave, and Tony was absolutely clueless on how to act with his own child.

He didn’t want to be like Howard. He didn’t want you to grow up feeling distanced, he didn’t want you to grow up having to achieve unimaginable scientific objectives in order to earn mere a nod of approval from him. And he most definitely did not want to send you away to some boarding school. All of these fears, and Tony had no idea how to act upon them.

Pepper, being her usual self, had done everything in her reach to help—the both of you. She had kindly smiled, putting a hand behind your back as she led you through the tower. She had placed a hand on Tony’s arm, gently rubbing her fingers to ease the tension in him. She had single-handedly dealt with all the paperwork and required DNA tests.

The blue-coloured holographic screens reflected right back at Tony’s eyes as he stood with one hand under his chin, elbow rested on his other arm. His workshop was unusually quiet; he was playing no music, not wanting to disturb you as you worked on what appeared to be a school project. The Revengers had busied themselves with something else, avoiding the tower and offering Tony some time to deal with his newly-found kid.

The man’s brown eyes drifted to you, deep in focus, fiddling with some wires that looked too cheap and broken to be able to function. Your brows were creased, and some of your hair was falling in front of your face. You look simultaneously so concentrated, yet incredibly at ease. Boy, did you look like him.

Some adjustments here and there, and the small device in your hands released a beeping sound, signalling its activation. You smiled, proudly, eyes locked on the invention. Tony turned around, walking over to your desk, which was located a few metres away from his.

“You did that with school supplies?” He inquired, having a look at the object, “isn’t this something… Quite impressive, kid, those wires look absolutely burnt.” You were his child, no DNA tests needed, just a few broken cables, and enough skill to make them work.