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Tony stands in front of the bedroom door behind him. His arms are folded across his chest, eyes darting from each of them and back, and he looks so defensive they can’t help but wonder why.
Still, Clint doesn’t do much but just stare in awe that he was even alive. After 15 months of searching - 15 months - they’d almost given up and Pepper had already been making preparations for telling the public that Tony Stark was dead and for a state funeral to be planned for him.
But, here he was. Alive. Healthy even; though there were bags under his eyes and he looked a little tired and worn, but other than that he looked better than they’d ever seen him.
“Tony - ” Steve starts, taking a step toward him but Tony raises a hand to stop him.
“No, don’t, it’s okay.” He says, and god, hearing his voice is like meeting him all over again. He sounds as tired as he looks, “I know what you’re gonna say and I don’t want to hear it. Not until I’ve at least said my bit first.”
“I - ” Steve cuts himself off this time instead, probably deciding that it’s best not to argue and gesturing that Tony continue. Clint stands beside him, rigid and tense and likely thinking exactly the same things that Steve is; judging from the look on the Captain’s face.
Where the hell has he been all this time.
“First off,” Tony says, shifting in front of the door, keeping one hand on the handle behind him. Clint follows the movement with his eyes, frowning, “I want to say that I’m sorry.” Clint snorts softly beside Steve. Yeah, he was sorry. He always was but that never really helped did it. “I know I don’t usually say it and mean it, but I really am this time. I didn’t - this wasn’t purposeful or anything. Whatever you may be thinking.”
“Then what was it?” Clint says, speaking for the first time since arriving here. Tony looks at him and the guilt in his expression hits him but now that’s he’s spoken, he can’t stop. All the frustration, the grief and the anger from Tony’s missing status bubbles up inside him until he’s spitting out his next words with resentment, “Was it a joke? An experiment? What, did you want to see how the world would react when they thought the famous Tony Stark had died, that you had to fake your death to see?”
“I didn’t fake anything,” Tony spits back to him, “I … had to leave, okay. And if I wanted to see reactions like that, I’d’ve just looked at news footage from when I’d been kidnapped in Afghanistan,” He glares at Clint for a second before sighing, even seeming to just deflate afterward.
Steve takes another step forward, while Clint still fumes, “Tony. Just tell us, okay. I need to - Where have you been all this time? Why did you have to just disappear on us, what was so - “
“I can’t.”
Steve pauses. “What?”
Tony meets his eyes now, looking away from Clint and biting down on his bottom lip, “I can’t.” He repeats, slowly, “I can’t tell you. I’m sorry, I wish I could, really, but I can’t risk it.”
“Risk it?” Steve frowns, looking at Tony like he’s someone else, “What are you - ”
Clint begins to raise his voice, fists clenching, “What exactly are you hiding here, Stark?” Tony doesn’t look at him and instead flicks his eyes down, “Thought we were a team here, or was I wrong? We’ve been searching for you for over a year now, and you won’t even tell us what you’ve been doing in the meantime? Did any of this - did the Avengers even mean anything to -”
Tony shushes him with both hands raised, glaring a lot more angrily now, when his voice almost rises to a shout, and Clint snaps his jaw shut with a look of pure outrage.
“You don’t have to raise your voice, alright, I can hear you perfectly okay from here.” Tony says, shifting in front of the door again, “And - ”
“What’s behind the door, Stark?” There’s hostility in Clint’s stance now and maybe he’s right about that. Because from whatever signals Tony’s sending him are clearly giving the wrong kind of message. And Tony has been gone a year. More than a year really.
“What?” Tony asks, blinking sharply when Clint starts toward him, “I - Nothing.”
“Then why are you protecting whatever’s inside there?” Steve takes a step forward to intervene before anything happens but Clint tries to push past Tony despite his presence, shoving Tony out of the way easily.
Steve catches him when he falls against his chest and doesn’t even try to hold him back when he rushes at Clint and punches him before he can open the door anymore than he has.
Clint recoils, palming his cheek in shock at Tony’s sudden violence before throwing his fist back to aim for Tony’s face for some revenge when -
A cry cuts the air. Loud and full of distress. An infant's cry.
A baby’s cry.
Tony shuts his eyes for a second, not looking at either of them when he opens them again, before opening the door and stepping inside. The crying increases in volume when he does and muffles when Tony ignores them both and shuts the door after him.
They stand there for about a minute, staring at the door in mute shock.
Finally, Clint turns away and says slowly, “Was that … a baby?” Steve only nods slowly, “So that’s what he was - where’d it come from?”
“Your folks never give you the talk?” Steve asks him dryly, walking forward to open the door before suddenly hesitating. There must be a reason Tony doesn’t want them inside.
Clint must obviously sense his indecisiveness because he nudges him until he steps aside and opens the door himself. It’s a completely ordinary room. Well, ordinary with Tony’s standards.
There’s a bed in the centre - Queen-sized and fairly new-looking - there’s a lot of metal clutter, the helmet of an IronMan suit and … and a baby’s wooden cot in the corner by the window.
Tony’s sitting on the edge of the bed with said baby cradled in his arms, he’s cooing to it softly, ignoring the click of the door as it shuts after Clint.
“Get out,” He says softly when they don’t move. He doesn’t even look at them, just tries to calm the kid. Clint walks around the metal on the floor and heads toward him. His face is blank as he stares down at the baby and doesn’t react when Tony slowly looks up to stare at him.
It’s tiny. Seriously tiny, he could wrap his entire hand around it’s head. There’s a mop of thin black hair curled over it’s head and when it opens it’s eyes, they’re as brown as Tony’s are.
“It’s yours.” Steve murmurs, coming to stand behind Clint, “Isn’t it.”
Tony swallows, brushing his thumb over the baby’s forehead with a soft smile, “Yeah. She’s mine.”
She. Clint stares at her, watching as she mouths at the material of Tony’s shirt, as her tiny fingers wrap around Tony’s pinky and as she stares avidly when he wriggles it.
“How - ” Steve starts, but he seems to have lost the words to even show his shock.
“I was being serious, you know, before,” Tony says then, his eyes on the baby girl, “Get out. I know privacy is something I used to have to reinstate, but here I - ”
“We’re not leaving until you give us some answers.” Clint says firmly.
Tony snaps his head up just as the baby lets out another wail, similar to the one that had let Clint and Steve know of her existence in the first place, “I - look, you’ll get answers alright, but I really need to - ”
“Whatever you need to do, you do it with us in the room ‘cause I’m not budging.” Tony stares at him. The baby’s cries get louder and she sucks on her fist in despair.
“Clint … ” Steve tries to lead him away and out. They don’t know what Tony’s been doing but the least they could do is - Clint shrugs off his grip and stands resolutely to one spot.
Tony turns to look at Steve and then down at his child. His eyes are as teary as hers but he doesn’t argue, just murmurs a soft: “Fine”.
Clint folds his arms across his chest, waiting to see what exactly required so much privacy.
Without looking at either of them, Tony slowly lifts his shirt up with one hand, shifting the baby until she can be held firmly with the other, and he lifts her until her mouth can reach his right nipple.
She immediately latches on, contentedly humming whilst she nurses and Tony holds her there, wincing only slightly when she pulls a little too hard but otherwise tending to her fondly. Clint blinks sharply, turning to look at Steve but the Captain’s eyes are fixed to the baby. Or, more precisely, the baby’s mouth.
It isn’t a breast per say, it’s still a little flat but there’s a slightly pronounced bulge there that shows at least how Tony’s lactating. It’s impossible, entirely impossible, and yet -
“Loki.” Clint murmurs and though he doesn’t say anything, Tony’s flinch is answer enough, “It’s Loki's isn’t it. You and him always did have a - ” Clint laughs bitterly, “So this - the kid’s actually yours, then? Like, yours from the freaking-impossible-womb-yours? You ran away because you were pregnant, is that it?!”
Tony shushes the girl when she begins to show signs of distress at Clint’s tone and surprisingly, Clint grows quiet at that. Tony doesn’t miss that show of restraint but his smile isn’t returned when it’s shown.
Eventually, the baby turns her face away from Tony’s chest, nuzzling against him and smacking her lips but Tony doesn’t put his shirt down until she refuses to take his nipple in again. Then, turning her over, he gently pats her back, rubbing and smoothing over the white onesie she’s wearing.
“I’m sorry.” He says to them both, kissing the baby on the cheek when she eventually burps, “I really am. I could come up with a thousand excuses but you’d hate them all and … I honestly doubt you’d care.”
Clint looks away, looking around the room instead as though trying to find anything that belongs to Loki.
“How old is she?” Steve asks, sitting beside Tony on the bed and letting the baby grab his ring finger and pop it into her mouth.
Tony looks surprised at the question, “Er, 3 months,” He says, moving her closer so Steve doesn’t have to reach with his finger, “And a week.” He then adds, “I’d add the five hour labor but I don’t really think that counts.”
“You went into labor?” Steve gapes at him, “But - “
“I’m a man?” Tony raises an eyebrow at him, “Yeah. Apparently Loki’s got a spell for everything and, well, he wasn’t really comfortable with the idea of strangers cutting me open in a cesarean.”
“Ouch.”
“Uh huh.” Tony agrees meaningfully, wiping at the drool around the baby’s mouth, “Never thought I’d ever be going through with something like that in my life.”
“And,” Steve pauses when he feels the baby’s gums against his finger, grimacing at the feel of it, “What’s her name?”
Tony smiles at him then, genuinely, “Do you honestly care, Steve, or are you just biding time for me to get arrested?”
“No one knows we’re here.” Clint says curtly, sitting on Tony’s other side, “And no one will.”
Tony looks at him, “Don’t get me wrong,” He then adds, “I’m mad as hell at you. I mean, Jesus, Loki? What is wrong with you?” Tony just shrugs at him with one shoulder, biting his lip, “But since you’ve been missing, we’ve hardly seen Loki in a fight and when we have … he’s actually helped us.”
“I know,” Tony says softly, “I couldn’t get in the armor because of, well,” He looks down at his stomach, “So I made him promise to help if you guys needed it, seeing as I couldn’t.”
“Why didn’t you tell us Tony?” Steve asks him, wiping his finger on his trousers and smiling when the baby reaches for it back, “We would have - “
“Overreacted and sent me to Fury until the baby popped out?” Tony counters with a grin, “And then I would never have seen her again. Ever.” He leant back, lifting her up until he could kiss her nose, “I couldn’t let that happen. So I’m sorry but, I don’t regret it.”
Clint scrunches up his nose, giving Steve a look, “What about the breastfeeding?”
“Ew, please don’t call it that.” Tony rolls his eyes, “It’s a must, really. Breast-milk is the best milk you can give a baby when they’re born and if she’s my kid, then she’s going to have more than the ‘best’ every time.”
“And you couldn’t have just gotten milk from that breast-milk place where ladies donate it?” Clint asks, though the thought makes him a little queasy.
“Er, nope.” Tony gives him a look, “My kid, my milk.” She gurgles in his arms, patting at his nose, “Oh, and she’s called ‘Margaret’.” Steve looks at him, his eyes wide, “Kinda similar to Maria because, hey, I’m a momma's-boy, but also because Peggy was one of the best people in my life after my parents died. She deserves her name to be given to my child.”
Steve laughs, stroking a line over Peggy’s head, which is when he notices the pale skin she has. Her hair is as black as Tony’s but everything else, even down to her nose is completely Loki. Except the eyes.
Brown eyes. Like Tony’s.