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16th May, 2001
Anthony Edward Stark.
A great name given to a man destined for great things.
Or a name burdened on him by the man who expected great things from him.
Stark men were made of iron. If his father had ever bothered to teach him anything- ever decided to impart any wisdom to him in his seventy-four years it was always that.
Stark men were made of iron .
That meant no crying, no whining, no tantrums. Nothing. Stay strong always. Thirty-one years living off this stupid phrase meant he’d built walls around himself. Iron walls. Reinforced every time something dared to weaken them, crack them, bring them down.
Nine years after he died Howard Stark still had his stone-cold grip on Tony’s life.
The only way to get out, even if only for a few blissful hours, was alcohol.
His great escape ever since he’d had his first sip all those years ago during his first year at MIT.
Alcohol and women. Which usually led to one-night stands.
But Tony had always, always been careful.
That night, however, was not him being careful.
Mary Fitzpatrick was different. She was smart, and pretty, and didn’t even want to sleep with Tony. Initially, of course.
Wasted or not, he didn’t forget the woman. She left him in the hotel room, and he could hardly remember anything other than her first name but he wouldn’t, couldn’t forget someone as enigmatic as her.
Tony moved on though. He moved away from that night, from Mary. When he wasn’t drinking he was building weapons, furthering Stark Industries into the twenty-first century, but never farther enough from Howard.
He was tinkering when he’d gotten the call. The call that would change his life. A bleak day in May is when his PA, Pepper walked into his lab– annoyance clear on her face and shoulders stiff as she walked up to him and roughly pushed a phone into his chest.
“Ms. Potts… What–” He sputtered, clutching the phone before it clattered on the ground.
“Answer it.” She replied, pinning him with a cold glare.
“What–?”
“Answer it now, Mr. Stark. Just– please.”
He put the phone to his ear, “Hello?” He asked, cooly.
“Stark? Tony Stark?” Replied a voice, it was familiar but he had no recollection of where.
“This is he, may I ask who’s speaking?” He asked, his usual air of confidence rising when people asked him who he was. He glanced over at Pepper, furrowing his brow when she looked tense, gnawing on her bottom lip instead of sending him the usual over-exasperated look she usually does.
“This is Mary Fitzpatrick,” She said. Tony remembered her, Brown hair, and blue eyes, one-upping him the whole night from the science quips to the bedroom. “We met in December in Manhatten… I was–”
“No– I mean, yeah. Yes, Mary, I remember you.” He said, his confusion growing by the minute.
“I wasn’t going to–” He heard a muffled sigh, “I wasn’t going to call you or tell you but I figured you had to know– I mean it's half yours so, why not! You know? Er, whatever… I’m pregnant. It’s yours. I’m five months along. I live at 106 Jewel Avenue. Big building– You can’t miss it. If you want to you can come over next week? Just in case…?” She tapered off, not sounding quite sure herself.
It's funny how a single phone call can change someone's life. One day it's a police officer calling to offer condolences about his dead parents. The next it's a woman he knew nothing about calling to tell him she’d been pregnant with his fucking baby for five months.
She hung up. He kept the phone to his ear. A little part of him hoped she’d call back to say ‘April fools!’ a month late.
“Mr. Stark…?”
He looked up at Pepper, his mouth hanging open a bit. He wanted to play it off. He wanted to tell her he was fine but his voice wouldn’t leave his throat. He opened his mouth and closed it, floundering, fumbling for the correct words.
He breathed in.
“What the fuck.” He exhaled, slamming the phone on the workbench, and dragging his hands over his face. He looked back at Pepper. “I have a kid.” He continued, something he never thought he’d say. Ever.
Pepper grimaced, placing her hand on his shoulder as he had a mini freak out in front of her.
He was a father. He was going to be a father.
He sat there for what felt like ages. Pepper told him something and left the lab, leaving him slumped over the workbench.
He couldn’t be a father. Stark men aren’t father material. They’re inventors. They’re pioneers in the field of science. They’re mongers, they are anything but fathers. Take Howard, for example. Tony couldn’t remember any time his father had shown affection or gratitude. He’d never appreciated Tony.
Tony was a chore. A chore Howard had to fulfil for the continuation of the company. To him, Tony was an invention for the future– just like all his other inventions. He had his mom, sure. He had Jarvis and Ana, he even had Aunt Peg. But Tony had always craved approval from the one man everyone expected him to be like, the man they expected him to surpass.
This kid, this baby, His baby. He didn’t want it to turn out like him. He didn’t want to be like Howard. He didn’t want the kid's life to be like his. Its first circuit board at four, first engine at six. Then what? He’s going to pop it in say forty years, leave a whole company to the kid with some unresolved trauma?
But he wasn’t going to abandon the kid.
Tony looked up from where he’d been staring a hole into his worktop. He’d spent his whole life living up to his father. He wasn’t about to spend the rest of it being him.
Before he could rationalise the thought, or even try to pace himself, he was out of his lab, running up the stairs and into the living room where he saw Pepper, same as ever, doing paperwork.
“I need to go. There. I want to uh–” He cut himself off, sighing and moving a hand through his hair.
Pepper smiled, the same way she did when he was being uncharacteristically sincere while hungover out of his mind. “I wrote the address down and called her back, she says Tuesday is fine.”
“Tuesday.” He repeated, nodding his head. Up, down, up, down. The ringing in his ears had subsided but he could still hear his heartbeat, fast and loud. His hands were clammy and he was breathing heavily.
It was almost like muscle memory, the way he swiped a bottle from the liquor cabinet and rushed upstairs, drinking away all his trouble, going with the bottle.
A tendril of shame rose in him as he took another swig. He couldn't help but let out a small laugh in his misery, ‘If I can’t stop drinking I’ll be just like him.’
The next day he threw out all his alcohol. He’d miss it, sure. But he wouldn’t regret it.
On Sunday he walked into his workshop after two days to find a small book about parenting on his desk. He smiled at the ‘From, Pepper.’
Tony spent the whole day reading it cover to cover.
On Monday he was restless. His fists clenching. More than once his feet had taken him to the empty liquor cabinet, and he spent a good two hours pacing around the mansion, compensating for the alcohol with caffeine.
Tuesday had him up at eight, and out of the house by nine and in New York by three in the afternoon, by mid-afternoon, he was knocking on Mary’s door, at least what he hoped was her door.
She swung it open, looking troubled until she took a look at him, then her face morphed into shock. She looked the same, Tony noted. The only thing that had changed was her hair, it was shorter. His eyes travelled down, towards her swollen stomach, that's one more change.
“Mr. Stark… I didn’t think you’d come.” She said, moving out of the way to let him in.
“I wanted to see. For myself.” He replied, removing his glasses and running his hand through his hair for the hundredth time today.
“And?” She prompted, closing the door. They both stood awkwardly in the foyer.
“And it's real…” He laughed, breathlessly. “Are you going to raise it?”
She smiled. “I’m not sure. That's why I called you. I wanted you to be aware of him at least, now that you’re here I need to make sure you're up for raising a kid.”
“I am,” He swiftly replied, “I know I’ve been… Unstable all these years and I know it's hard to believe I’ve changed in, what? Two days? But I’m in. I’m all in. Whatever you want.” He said, pausing for breath.
“It's a boy?” His voice cracked on the last word.
Her eyebrows raised as she realised what she just said. She nodded slowly. How she stayed so calm– he had no idea. All he knew was he was having a little boy.
“I wanted to get coffee, actually– Would you like to join?” She asked, moving to grab a scarf off a nearby hook.
His eyes stayed trained on where she stood for a moment before he looked at her, puzzled. “I thought pregnant women weren’t allowed coffee?”
She let out a laugh, “Relax, Stark. It's decaf.”
Mary blew on her cup, took a sip and put it down. They were at a small coffee shop, a hole-in-the-wall shindig in a small corner of Queens. Nobody was there except them and an elderly barista.
“Wanna talk about it?” He asked, looking at her. She had that same troubled expression when she opened the door for him.
She sighed. “My fiance, Richard.”
Tony baulked at her. Unexpected father and now adultery?!
She quickly shook her head. “He proposed to me a couple of days after… Us. I didn’t even know about the baby at the time. We were on a break, right? So when I told him, he was… Closed off. We fought, and he tried to get over it but couldn’t. He's staying a couple of blocks away with his brother and his wife.”
“Yikes.”
“Tell me about it.”
He breathed in the scent of coffee, gulping before he looked at her again. “I threw out all my alcohol,” He said. She looked puzzled but nodded. “I threw it all out. I meant what I said about me being all in. I–” He laughed, “I even read a goddamn baby book.”
She smiled, “I don’t doubt it. And I’m thankful, Tony, I am. I don’t know what I’d have done if you didn’t come over today.”
He smiled back at her. For the first time since Friday, that little knot in his stomach loosened up. Yeah, they’d be fine.
21st July 2001
Telling Rhodey was his priority after he’d found out.
His best friend had taken it just as well as he had.
There was disbelief, anger, disappointment, sarcasm– and then a small smile, a head shake and a, “I see you're serious about it man, you're going to be a good dad.”
He’d informed Happy, but the man, as articulate as he usually is was left shocked.
Obie was another obstacle. Tony was about to tell him, he was. But when he’d walked into his office, he’d found paparazzi pictures of him and Mary. When asked about it, he’d gotten a lecture on how discreet he had to be. How careful and fragile his public life was.
Telling Obie could be put on hold.
May went by quickly enough. He’d spent it discussing custody with Mary. He wanted to be with the kid, of course. So did Mary. The Malibu-New York commute was difficult, Tony could afford to live in New York, so he’d been trying to find a house there.
June and July were spent redecorating a room in the Malibu mansion for the kid. The walls were a soft blue, he’d picked out a couple of red pieces of furniture, and he’d bought a buttload of clothes and toys for him.
Pepper sighed at him fondly every time he asked if it was enough.
The only thing left was a half-built crib in the middle of the room, Tony and Rhodey had tried to build it– even Pepper had tried to figure it out but it was impossible to navigate.
August 10th 2001
He’d been tinkering in the workshop when he’d gotten the call, straight to his personal cell.
He’d furrowed his brows as he read the unknown number, picking up hesitantly. “Hello?”
“Tony Stark?” Asked the woman, she sounded panicked–and just as hesitant as him.
“That's my name, don’t wear it out.” He grinned, brow furrowing, who was she?
“Oh jeez–” He heard a disgruntled sigh, “Mr. Stark, my name is May Parker, Mary’s sister-in-law. She's just gone into labour. You need to get here.”
He nearly fell out of his chair, fumbling with the phone before hanging up. He couldn’t think straight. He didn’t know what to do. The baby wasn’t supposed to be here until next month.
He was due back in Malibu the day after. If she’d gone into labour just forty-eight hours later, Tony might’ve missed the birth of his son.
Arriving at the hospital had been a blur, finding the room was a blur, he saw a couple outside the doors, a woman whom he assumed was May with a man who must’ve been Richard’s brother. She smiled at him reassuringly as he was guided into the room.
Mary looked like she was in excruciating pain. But she still smiled at him. He tried to smile back, but it became more of a grimace. He clutched her hand for support– for her or him he wasn’t sure. He needed it as much as she did.
Holding his son for the first time was incredible. He’d seen the little guy being wiped down and handed to Mary. His brain was a puddle of emotions. He couldn’t hear a single coherent thought. He stared at his son. His boy, crying as Mary soothed him. He couldn’t hear anything around him until the boy was picked up from Mary’s arms and rushed out of the room.
Tony baulked at the door closing before looking at Mary. She looked the same as ever, calm and collected. He, however, could notice the tension around her shoulders. She smiled. “They’re going to run some tests, maybe stick the little guy in the ICU. He was born early. It’ll all be fine, Tony.”
Tony let out a startled laugh. “Oh, I know. I almost shat my pants hearing you were in labour.”
Mary laughed with him as she reached out to pat his arm. “You did good, Stark.”
“You too, Fitzpatrick.”
The door swung open, Tony looked up to see a dishevelled man standing there, his eyes staying on Mary’s form, unmoving.
“Richard! What are you doing here?” Mary asked, trying to push herself up but giving up soon enough.
The man neared and Tony took that as his cue to leave, smiling quickly at Mary before patting Richard on the back twice, then booking it. Outside he saw May and her husband. They smiled at him and pointed in the direction of the doctor headed his way.
It’ll all be fine.