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The distant sound of gunfire wakes Tony up from a dead sleep. It sounds like it’s getting closer - which is not something he's new to, but right now he just can't handle it - and he rolls over onto his belly, whimpering. The cracking is so loud that it's making a dull pressure in his ears throb, and pain radiates up and down his head.
Suddenly, it stops.
A moment later, the door across the room opens. Steve - Daddy, no Steve comes into the room, eyes wide with concern. “Hey, baby boy. Are you still having lots of owwies?”
Tony whimpers again, pawing clumsily at his ears. The mitts over his hands prevent him from being able to grab anything, but it gets the point across. Steve’s mouth turns down, and he’s very careful when he reaches into the crib and lifts Tony up, pulling him into a gentle hug.
“Hey, it’s okay. You’ll feel better soon,” Daddy (Steve) says, pressing his lips to Tony’s forehead.
The pacifier strapped into his mouth prevents Tony from speaking, but he garbles words anyway, trying to explain that his ear really hurts and he feels hot and achy from head to toe. Daddy listens patiently as he carries Tony over to the changing table and sets Tony down on top. His face splits into a smile when he presses Tony's thighs open and pulls apart the diaper.
“Good boy. You went poo in your diaper and I didn’t even have to make you!”
Humiliated, Tony flushes. He doesn’t even remember that happening. It seems like his days are always like that now. They’re a blur of faceless people and childish indulgences, and the only consistent thing is Steve.
“Gonna get you all cleaned up and then it’ll be breakfast time,” Daddy - Steve says, rubbing Tony’s tummy. He changes Tony's diaper without comment, then looks at Tony consideringly. “Do you want to try it without your paci?” he asks seriously. “Can you be my good little sweetie?”
Very slowly, Tony nods. He hasn't had an opportunity like this for weeks. If he blows it, it'll probably be months before Steve gives him another shot. It's fine. He knows better than to mouth off and curse Steve the way he did when this all began.
“Okay.” Daddy (Steve) un-straps the gag. Tony’s mouth aches a little when the pacifier slides out, but not as much as his ears.
He can’t help the tears the well up in his eyes, and he says his first clear word in weeks. “Hurts.”
“Oh darling, I know it hurts. C’mere.” Steve scoops him up again, nuzzling Tony’s head with his nose. He grabs a blanket, draping it loosely around Tony’s shoulders as they walk out of the room.
Outside in the hall, it’s pandemonium. Hydra soldiers are sprinting up and down the corridor. None of them look at Steve (Daddy); they all keep their heads down and move even faster. They’re being directed by a red-haired woman with a mask over the upper portion of her face; she smiles at them, and her expression might even be kind, before her eyes harden when a soldier drops his gun.
She snarls something in a different language and hauls out her own gun.
“Natalia,” Steve says, sharp. “Not in front of the baby.”
She looks at them again and says something else, prodding the soldier in the shoulder. Daddy - Steve - Daddy says something back to her, his voice taking on a harsh cadence that makes Tony shiver even as Daddy’s hand protectively cups the back of his head and presses Tony's face into his shoulder.
Tony goes along with it. He doesn't want to look. He feels Daddy - Steve moving, but doesn’t care to look. His ear throbs and his whole head hurts, and he just wants to go back to his crib. He doesn’t even realize he’s crying loudly until Daddy starts petting his hair, trying to calm him down.
They end up in the kitchen. Daddy tries to give him a bottle, nudging the nipple against his lips. Tony refuses to drink it, turning his head away. There was a time not that long ago when that would’ve made Daddy (Steve) punish him, but right now Tony just can’t. Anything he drinks is going to come right back up and he just cries and cries.
Daddy doesn’t punish him. He just looks sad and rocks Tony back and forth. Tony hates that he’s making Daddy sad, and hates himself for caring that he’s making Steve sad.
“Sir,” someone says, barely audible over the sound of Tony’s wails.
“You can go with Natalia today, Buck,” Daddy says. “I won’t need you to babysit Tony today. He’s sick and I won’t leave him. You two are in charge. Make sure you bring back the archer today, got it?”
The Soldier nods, hollow-eyed and quiet, and slips out as quietly as he came.
Daddy lifts Tony up, tilting his head up so they’re looking at each other. “I hate that you feel this way, Tony,” Steve (Daddy) says.
For a split second, Tony panics. He’s not doing this on purpose. He wants to be a good baby (except he doesn’t? Only it gets harder to remember why he doesn't every day, when Daddy loves him and no one hurts him and he doesn't have to work to the point where he collapses) and he wants to be -
“I just hate it when you’re sick and I can’t help you. Makes me feel useless.” Steve sighs loudly. “But I know you can’t help it. You want to be good for me, don’t you?”
He brings Tony in for another cuddle, brushing his lips against Tony's hot cheek in a gentle kiss.
In spite of himself, Tony does. He wants to be good.
“Daddy?” he whispers, tongue numb, ears burning.
“I’m right here, baby. And I'm going to make you feel all better."
A young woman, dressed similarly to the soldiers from before, enters the room behind them, as though waiting for just that signal. She keeps a respectful distance until Daddy beckons her closer, and even then her movements are slow and exaggerated as she pulls some instruments out of her bag: a stethoscope, a thermometer, and more. Tony can’t help thinking about Bruce and he starts to cry again, slumping weakly against Daddy’s chest.
“How long has he been ill for?” the woman asks.
“About three days. He was fussy on Tuesday and got steadily worse. He keeps pawing at his ear,” Daddy says. His hands are gentle on Tony’s shoulders, but he watches her very closely.
“Probably an ear infection. I’ll have to take his temperature first.”
Daddy shifts him around, tugging his midsection up and back until the woman has access to his bottom. Tony wails even louder when his diaper is unlatched and cool air and an even colder hand touches him down there; he struggles uselessly as the thermometer is inserted into him, trying to kick his legs. He doesn’t like this at all. His face burns with shame and he can’t help protesting.
“Stop! Don’t!” The words come out clumsy and don’t make a difference anyway. All they serve to do is make Daddy lift his chin and look into his eyes.
“You get one pass because you’re not feeling well. Don’t make me regret taking your gag off,” Daddy says sternly.
Tony swallows, whimpering again.
The thermometer beeps and is promptly removed. As his diaper is pulled back up, the woman says, “101°. That’s not as high as I thought it might be.”
“It’s high enough,” Daddy says, clipped, and the woman blanches.
“Of course, Sir. I didn’t mean –”
“Finish your examination.”
Cowed, the woman nods, white-faced in her silence. She looks at Tony’s ear – which he really doesn’t like, the pain reverberating through his head until Tony’s sobbing with it – and at his throat, and then she listens to his heart and lungs for a moment, taking care not to touch the arc reactor.
“Definitely an ear infection. Bacterial, by the looks of it. I’m prescribing antibiotics to help get rid of it. Over the counter Tylenol will help with the pain and fever.” She scribbles on a pad of paper as she talks, then rummages around in her bag until she produces a couple of vials. “I’ll give them to you in liquid form to make them easier to take. Mix the antibiotics into his morning and bedtime bottles and he should start feeling better within 48 to 72 hours. The Tylenol can be taken as necessary.”
Daddy takes the vials with no comments; the woman seems relieved to be finished, quickly gathering her things together and packing up her bag. Her smile, when she glances at Tony, is a mixture of pity and sympathy, but it vanishes quickly when she catches sight of Daddy’s face. Her expression smoothes out into something bland and she gets up, leaving the room as quietly as she’d arrived.
“You need to drink your bottle this time,” Daddy says, reaching for the discarded bottle. He adds a few drops of the antibiotic and shakes it to mix the contents before pressing the nipple to Tony’s mouth.
Sucking makes Tony’s ear throb. He twists away, whimpering and pawing at his ear in discomfort. Daddy sighs and twists the nipple off, holding just the rim of the bottle to his lips. After so long of drinking only from bottles, Tony’s almost forgotten how to drink from anything else. He’s sloppy, milk sloshing down his chin, but the majority actually gets into his mouth and down his throat.
“This’ll make you feel better, sweetheart,” Daddy promises, petting his hair. “You’ll see. All those icky feelings will go away soon.”
Tony just blinks up at him, exhausted by the past hour and wanting a hug. Like he can read Tony's mind, Daddy sets the bottle aside and hugs him, nuzzling Tony’s hair, cuddling him until he falls asleep. He wakes up several hours later alone in his crib, but not for long. Before he can do much more than rub his eyes, the Soldier appears at the side of his bed.
His lips move, a question in a language that Tony doesn’t understand, then he switches to Russian. “ты в порядке?”
He always speaks to Tony in Russian. It’s comforting now. Tony lifts his hands up, not wanting to be in the crib, and the Soldier’s hands grip him under his arms. The Soldier lifts him very carefully, allowing Tony to wind his legs around the Soldier’s waist.
Running an empire is a lot of work, so – as the only other person that Daddy really trusts – the Soldier is most commonly Tony’s babysitter. Tony likes him well enough now; he didn’t at first, when the Soldier didn’t know what to do about him or Daddy and Tony didn’t want to be here. He leans his head against the Soldier’s shoulder and sucks at the end of the mitt on his right hand.
He’s so tired.
“Время перемен,” the Solider murmurs. He is unfailingly patient: even when Tony was punching and kicking with all of his strength, the Soldier would either wait out the storm or restrain him, depending on the day, and then carry on with treating him like a baby exactly as commanded – which, while infuriating at first, is comforting now. He always knows where he stands with the Soldier.
Because despite his terrifying reputation, he has never raised a hand to Tony or hesitated to comfort him when Tony was upset, even when the comfort wasn’t wanted. The Soldier would die to protect Tony and they both know that, and maybe sometimes Tony thinks it’s not even about the command now, but because the Soldier wants to, and that gives him a nice feeling in his tummy when he thinks too hard on it.
“Daddy?” Tony asks around the mitt, belatedly realizing that he referred to Steve as ‘Daddy’ when he’s not even here. He shouldn’t be doing that, he thinks. Steve should be ‘Daddy’ only when he’s in the room and can punish Tony for saying something different. But it’s so hard to keep the lines straight in his mind, especially when he craves a hug and Daddy gives the best hugs.
“занятый.”
Which is the only answer Tony ever gets, naturally.
He and the Soldier spend a lot of time together over the next four days. The Soldier just keeps saying that Daddy is busy. He feeds Tony his meals and gives him baths and changes his diapers and plays with him, though mostly Tony just wants to sleep now that the pain in his ear is fading away. He likes it best when the Soldier can be coaxed into squeezing into the crib with him, and Tony can fall asleep feeling like the safest baby in the world.
On the fifth morning, something weird happens. The pain is all gone and Tony wakes up hungry. He drinks his bottle eagerly and lets the Soldier feed him apple sauce and eggs instead of clumsily trying to do it himself – he usually just makes a mess when that happens, since the mitts (bright blue today, patterned with yellow ducklings) covering his hands prevent him from being able to do pick anything up.
But instead of playtime, the Soldier picks him up and carries him outside the room. Instead of turning right, they go left. Tony frowns, wrapping his arms around the Soldier’s neck. He’s confused and a little afraid. They never go left, and he figured out a long time ago that going left means that at some point you’ll run into an exit to the base.
The last time Tony escaped the room and tried to go left, Daddy caught him before he went more than a couple of feet and spanked him until Tony was in tears. Then he left Tony all alone with strangers for three days without even letting the Soldier come to see him, until Tony broke down begging and crying to see Steve - Daddy, now. Daddy told him if he ever tried to do that again, he would put Tony in a cell and never see him again. The thought is terrifying.
“No,” Tony says. “No!” He stretches his arm over the Soldier’s shoulder towards the nursery. The arm around his waist is too powerful to break free of even though he struggles. Tears well up in Tony’s eyes.
The Soldier doesn’t answer, just keeps walking until they reach a room with a black door. The door opens automatically at their approach. The Soldier enters and sets Tony down on the cold floor. Then he turns and walks out. Tony turns his head just in time to see the door closed behind them. Speechless, he stares at the door in bewilderment.
“What the - Stark?”
Tony’s head whips around at the familiar voice, though it’s been months, if not years, since he last heard it. Clint Barton is chained to the wall opposite the door. He doesn’t look very good; his purple uniform is in tatters, revealing all kinds of bruises, burns and welts. His face and mouth are bloodied and there’s a large knot on his forehead. He’s straining to reach a set of keys about four feet away from his hands, but he sits back on his heels to stare at Tony.
“Stark?” Barton says again when Tony doesn’t answer. “What the fuck happened to you? We thought you were dead!”
“Not,” Tony whispers. Though in those first few months, not for lack of trying.
“Obviously. Jesus, Hill’s gonna shit a brick when she sees you.” Barton shakes his head. “Well, what are you waiting for? Get over here and get these things off me before someone comes back. Let’s get out of here!”
Leave?
The idea fills Tony’s head with static and makes his heart race. There’s a window in the room, he realizes, which is unusual for the base. Not even his nursery has a window. The walls are painted with colorful pictures instead, and for Tony’s first birthday Daddy had painted on the ceiling with special paint that glows when the lights are off. Tony has a galaxy to look at now when he’s falling asleep.
He could. For the first time since he got here, he’s alone.
“Stark!” Barton barks, losing patience.
Tony flinches at the angry tone.
Barton stops. It seems to take considerable effort, but he takes a deep breath and tries to force a smile. “Look… Tony. I don’t know what Steve’s done to you.” He looks Tony up and down, for the first time seeming to take in the diaper, the mitts, the childish t-shirt. His mouth pinches. “Jesus fuck. I knew Steve was obsessed, but this is a whole new level,” he mutters, more to himself.
“Just come over here and push the keys closer to me, okay? You don’t have to do anything else,” Barton continues. He’s trying to sound kind, but the stress underneath turns his tone harsh. “I’ll unlock the chains myself, and then we can escape together.”
Escape. Tony looks again to the window. He could, maybe. His legs shake an awful lot when he stands now, and the last time he tried to walk his legs wobbled so bad he fell right into Daddy’s arms. Daddy just laughed and scooped him up and said he really was Daddy’s baby boy now, and Tony smiled at the delight in Daddy’s voice and got to have a cherry popsicle. Daddy and the Soldier carry him everywhere, so he doesn’t know if he could walk even if he wanted to.
Does he want to?
“It’s real easy. Just push the keys closer,” Barton says again.
Daddy takes care of him now. He makes sure Tony has everything he needs. He changes Tony’s diaper and gives him baths and rubs his legs and arms with lotion. He brings Tony presents and new toys. He dances with Tony and pets his hair, and when Tony feels icky Daddy always know how to make him feel better. He sings Tony to sleep and he gives hugs and he always smiles when he sees Tony, and that smile makes Tony happy. He says he needs Tony because Tony is his special little baby.
When Tony was all icky and his ear hurt, Daddy made him feel better. He hugged Tony and made him feel safe. And then he sent the Soldier to keep Tony company when he couldn’t be there, and now Tony doesn’t hurt. He’s not sleepy. He doesn’t have a headache from overworking. He didn’t have to be alone. He didn’t have to keep working through the pain. He got to relax and have fun and sleep.
He doesn’t have to work at all anymore. He doesn’t have to look after a company. He doesn’t have to protect people who don’t like him. He’s never hungry or tired. People don’t yell at him or blame him anymore because Daddy and the Soldier won’t let them. Daddy says Tony’s safe here, because Daddy and the Soldier will always love him, and Daddy always hugs him really tight when he says that so it’s true.
Tony still doesn’t like the diapers much, but everything else isn’t so bad. Daddy only spanks him when he’s being bad, and Tony really wants to be good. That’s all he’s ever wanted is to be good, and Daddy’s shown him how, and he doesn’t want to go back to being bad. And he loves Daddy and the Soldier. He doesn’t really want to leave them behind.
“Stark!” Barton snaps, losing patience.
“No.”
Barton’s expression turns incredulous. “What did you just say?”
Tony shakes his head, fresh tears coming to his eyes. “No.”
“You fucker,” Barton says, a look of horror crossing his face. “You can’t be serious. Stark! What about your friends? What about Rhodes? Pepper? All those innocent people that Steve has killed? What about them?”
Tony doesn’t want to be here anymore. It’s too much. He wants his daddy. “Daddy!” he cries, bursting into tears.
Barton starts cursing, the kind of language that Daddy washed out Tony’s mouth with soap for using, and Tony cringes away from him because Barton looks really mad. He’s yanking against the chains and yelling at Tony and lunging for the keys, but coming up so short that it just makes him even angrier. Burying his face in his hands, Tony sobs and starts to tremble.
The door opens behind them. The red-haired woman from before comes in, only now her face is uncovered and Tony recognizes her with a jolt. Natasha. Barton recognizes her too judging from his reaction. He goes ballistic, screaming and swearing and struggling. Tony trembles harder as she walks over to Barton, completely un-phased, and effortlessly pins him to the wall with one hand on the chains holding Barton’s hands and one hand on his chin, her body covering him.
“Natasha, you fucking bitch,” Barton snarls, jerking his head, as though he’d like nothing more than to bite her.
She whispers something in Barton’s ear and releases his chin; her hand slides down her body and into a pocket and returns holding a needle. Tony flinches as she cruelly stabs it into the side of Barton’s neck, remembering all too well what that feels like. His fear only increases as Barton slumps limply against the wall and she turns to look at Tony, and he whimpers in terror.
“That will be all, Natalia.”
Tony’s head whips around to face the doorway again. He makes a sound in the back of his throat, too far gone for words, and Daddy looks at him. Immediately the superiority and satisfaction in his face melt away, replaced by concern. He opens his arms and takes a couple steps closer, and Tony throws himself into his arms and outright wails.
“It’s okay, baby boy,” Daddy soothes, lifting him easily. “You’re safe now. Did he scare you? I won’t let him do that anymore.”
Tony just clings to him and cries, shaking all over. Daddy hugs him tightly, rubbing Tony’s back.
“Natalia, I want you to get Phil,” he says over Tony’s head. “Tell him that Clint is ready.”
“Yes sir.”
Natasha strides out of the room. She’s back in less than a minute with the last person Tony expected to see: Coulson, formerly of SHIELD. Coulson spares a small, sympathetic smile for Tony before walking over to Barton’s unconscious body. He picks up the keys and releases Barton from the chains, letting Barton crumple to the floor at his feet.
“Make sure he knows that he won’t be allowed to scare Tony again,” Daddy says. His voice has that firm, dark tone that usually means someone is going to get punished and Tony shivers harder. Daddy presses a kiss to the top of his head in apology.
“I will,” Coulson says. “I expect it will take about six months to have him fully trained.”
“You have five.”
“Yes sir,” Coulson says, tipping his head in respect. He makes a motion with his hand. A couple of soldiers walk into the room, lift Barton and carry him out. Coulson follows, smiling.
“There we go. All done,” Daddy coos, carrying Tony out of the room. They head back in the direction of the nursery, and Tony is immeasurably relieved to see the room again. But that doesn’t mean he’s ready to be put down either. He clings tighter and howls when Daddy tries, not even caring that disobeying could mean punishment.
But Daddy doesn’t seem to mind; he just smiles and coos over Tony some more, taking a seat in the rocking chair and rocking them and rubbing Tony’s back until Tony cries himself out. He offers Tony a normal pacifier then, and Tony takes it, sucking slowly as he closes his swollen eyes. His head hurts and he’s still shaking a little, fine tremors that he can’t stop.
“Can you look at me, honey?”
Tony obeys, looking up at his daddy through his eyelashes. Daddy smiles down at him. His eyes are warm and blue and comforting.
“That’s my special little baby. I’m sorry you had to go through that, Tony. Daddy just had to make sure that you wanted to be here with him.”
A thin whine catches in Tony’s throat. He holds on harder. Daddy chuckles and rocks them some more.
“Don’t worry. Now I know that you really do belong to me. I can keep you here and you won’t fight me anymore. Isn’t that right?” He chucks Tony under the chin. “And soon you’re going to have a little friend to play with! Won’t that be fun?”
A friend? Tony doesn’t understand.
“It’s Clint,” Daddy explains, chuckling at his confusion. “Phil’s been worried about him for a long time, but he’s been a sneaky little bugger to track down. Bucky and Natalia finally managed to corner him and brought him in. When Phil saw how you turned out, he decided that the same treatment would be beneficial for Clint.”
Tony remembers back to when he first came to be with Daddy. The restraints in his crib. The pacifier gag. The mitts that went all the way up his arms. The restraints that kept his ankles locked to his thighs to keep him from walking. The removal of all hair on his body, aside from his head, even his beard and pubic hair. Being changed out in the open, in front of everyone, every single day where people could and did stand around and watch because ‘babies don’t care where they’re changed, sweetpea’. He shudders.
“He’ll be a bit older than you, I think,” Daddy says thoughtfully, still rocking the chair. “You’re a bit littler than him. But not by much. We’ll start him off young, anyway, and see how it goes. I trust Phil and Natalia to set him on the right path.” He hugs Tony again. “Not you, though. You’re just mine. I wouldn’t trust you with anyone but Bucky.”
The Soldier. At the mention of him, Tony whines a little.
“You miss him, don’t you, baby? He’ll be back soon. I was busy getting Clint ready, which is why I couldn’t be around for the past couple of days. So I thought you and I could spend time alone this afternoon. You’ve been such a good little baby for me, you deserve a reward.”
A reward? That catches Tony’s attention. He tries to tug at Daddy’s uniform, frowning when his mittened hands can't grasp the material.
Daddy chuckles again. “That’s right. You remember what I told you when you came here, right? Bad boys get punished, even though Daddy doesn’t like having to punish them. And good little boys get rewarded. I’m really excited to reward you, Tony. I like it much better than having to punish you, don’t you?”
Remembering some of the punishments – the time he’d been forced to bend bare-bottomed over Daddy’s knee in the middle of the cafeteria and then was spanked until the will to fight drained away and he was left weakly sobbing stuck out vividly in Tony’s memory, though there had been worse – he nods vigorously. He doesn’t like it when Daddy punishes him. He wants to be good for Daddy.
“That’s my boy. Come on, now. You need a change first.” Daddy lifts him up. Tony grabs onto him again, but Daddy just carries him over to the changing table. He lays Tony down and removes the soiled diaper. Tony doesn’t remember wetting himself, but he thinks it might have happened when Barton started screaming.
He stays quiet, sucking on the pacifier, while Daddy cleans him up and puts him into a new diaper. Now that he’s laying down and the past hour is behind him, he’s tired. He thinks about closing his eyes, but Daddy is so excited about the reward that he doesn’t want to. He settles for rubbing clumsily at his eyes as Daddy pulls him into a sitting position. Daddy clicks his tongue.
“My poor little one. That was too much excitement for you, huh?” he asks sympathetically. “Now that you’re a good boy, that won’t have to happen ever again.”
Tony is a good boy. He holds his arms up pleadingly, loving the way that Daddy immediately scoops him up and hugs him. When they go to leave the room, Tony can’t help tensing a little. But Daddy turns right the way he’s supposed to, and Tony relaxes again.
They walk a long way, so long that Tony’s eyes drift shut and his head slumps down onto Daddy’s shoulder without his permission. When they stop, it takes a lot of effort to pry his eyes open. He blinks up at Daddy, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep. He whimpers his displeasure when Daddy tries to move him out of his comfy position.
“Ah, baby. Don’t give me those big brown eyes,” Daddy says, but he gives in, letting Tony stay where he is. “Look, sweetpea. See?”
Tony follows his daddy’s fingers. His eyes go wide when he sees what’s behind the glass. It’s a room with a bunch of people bent over computers working. At the head of the room, a very familiar woman with red hair is pacing back and forth. She’s wearing a suit and four-inch heels and Tony’s heart twists at the sight of her; for a split second, he regrets not seizing the opportunity to escape when it was offered up on a silver platter, because the wrongness of the situation makes him feel too flushed and hot.
But then Daddy hugs him and lifts him a bit higher so he can see better, and those bad thoughts slide right out of Tony’s head. He tries to point too, but with the puffy mitt on his hand all he can do is wave his whole hand excitedly.
“’epper!” Tony yelps, the word garbled by the pacifier. “’epper, Da’dy!”
Daddy laughs. “That’s right! That’s Pepper. I thought you’d like to see that she knows how to be a good girl, too. Just like you, honey.”
“Goo’ gi'l?” Tony repeats, gently patting the glass. It’s too thick and is probably soundproof anyway, but it makes him feel closer to Pepper.
“She does what I need her to do, just like you. It took her a little while to learn too, but Daddy doesn’t mind giving second chances every once in a while.” Daddy pats Tony’s bottom. “Of course, my little baby got more than just one second chance, but that’s our little secret.”
Tony just nods and pats the glass some more. “’epper?” he asks longingly.
“Aww, honey. I’m afraid that while Pepper’s a good girl, she’s not that good. Not like you. If she can prove herself to be trustworthy like you have, then you can see her.”
“Nooo,” Tony whines. “’epper!”
“I wouldn’t want her to hurt you, baby,” Daddy says gently. “Do you remember how Clint wanted to hurt you?”
Tony tenses again, nodding slowly.
“Pepper might do the same thing. And while Clint doesn’t know any better yet, Pepper does, so I would hate to have to punish her because she was bad. You’re my precious little baby so anyone who hurts you would have to be really punished. I don’t think you want Pepper to be punished like that, do you?”
Tony shakes his head. “No Da’dy. “No ‘epper.” he mumbles, crushed. But Clint was scary, and he doesn’t want Pepper to be scary, and he definitely doesn’t want Pepper punished for being scary!
“That’s because you’re such a little sweetie,” Daddy says, smiling proudly. “You’re always thinking of everyone else before you. I love you, Tony.”
“’ove you, Da’dy.” Tony yawns so wide the pacifier slips out. Daddy catches it easily and gives it back to him.
“I think it’s time for a nap, sweetpea. Wave bye-bye to Pepper."
"Bye, 'epper," Tony says sadly, waving at the glass. He wraps his arms around Daddy's neck and keeps watching her over his shoulder as Daddy carries him away.