This is the end of 10-year-old Tony. This is also the part where I ask for your help. Or rather, permission to pick your brains. From this point on, I'm going to be time-hopping to the present. IF YOU WANT TO SEE ANYTHING - ANYTHING AT ALL - whether at a specific age or situation or if you just want it to happen, LET ME KNOW AND I WILL INCLUDE IT (so long as it's not explicit. I don't do explicit or noncon). Bring on the ideas! This fill is for you. uvu Anyways, i hope you enjoy this update!

**8**

Howard walks in on Tony sitting at the kitchen counter with Jarvis, cloth in hand helping the boy wipe the tears away.

"What's this?" he demands. He's wearing a brown suit and holding a glass of something alcoholic - must be on his way to work, Tony decides.

"I tripped on the stairs," Tony says, indicating a couple of the bruises from school, "and fell on my cast."

Howard's eyes narrow. "Why aren't you at school?"

"Class ended early," Jarvis lies. "A kind of school emergency. A student was beaten, I think. Triggered some sort of episode."

Tony wonders if that's really a lie, after all. It's awfully close to what actually happened.

"Hmm." Howard glares at Tony, who ducks his head. "And if I call the school right now, they'll confirm your story?"

"Would I ever lie to you, sir?" Jarvis asks, somewhat daringly. The elder Stark seems to consider this.

"S'pose not," he concedes. This is when Natasha walks in.

Natasha, wearing a maid's uniform, carrying a tray with a bowl of ice water and small towels. Natasha, proud, strong Natasha, head bowed demurely as she slips from the doorway to Jarvis' side. "Master Stark," she mumurs as she passes Howard, quiet and polite as can be. It's mind-boggling.

Howard just grunts. "It's not that bad," he tells Tony. "Toughen up. What do I always tell you?"

"Stark men are made of iron," Tony recites dully, wincing as Jarvis prods a bruise on his cheek. He doesn't much feel like he's made of iron. Made of foam, maybe. You can hit it all day and night, and it'll bounce back at first. But eventually it wears down and becomes this flat, ugly lump. That's kind of how Tony feels right now: flattened, ugly, lumpy.

"Good." Howard nods brusquely and leaves. Jarvis immediately turns on Natasha.

"What happened?" he asks, as though the sight of Tony's bodyguard in a maid outfit is perfectly normal. Tony wants to talk about that instead.

"He had a flashback," Natasha says bluntly. "There were - bullies. They attacked him, and he acted as though they were kidnappers."

And then he curled up in a ball and cried on her shoulder. For the first time, Tony starts to feel shame for his actions. Stark men are made of iron.

"Hell," Jarvis mutters. He turns back to Tony and places a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Are you sure you're alright, Tony?"

"'Mfine," Tony mumbles. "I was being a baby about it. I gotta - gotta toughen up."

The grip on his shoulder firms. "Don't you listen to a word that man says," Jarvis scolds. "He doesn't know what he's saying."

"Sure he does," Tony argues half-heartedly, shrugging with a nonchalance so forced it hurts. "He's an adult."

"And so am I, and so is Miss Romanoff. We know what we're talking about. Your father does not."

And Tony wants to believe it, so bad. "I guess," he allows. Jarvis smiles.

"That's it," he says. "Now, let's have Miss Romanoff clean you up, and I'll make some cookies."

One year later

Sometimes it feels like this - Jarvis harrassing Tony over his dental hygeine, Natasha crunching a cookie with smug delight as Tony whines about his single cavity - is what a family is supposed to be like. Ever since Natasha waltzed (barged, guns blazing) into his life it seems like his parents have made themselves scarce, but he doesn't really mind. Maybe he's just noticing their absence a little more now that he's got people who actually care about him.

"Mmm, snickerdoodles," says Natasha. Tony glowers at her.

"Don't need to tease," he whines. She only smiles.

"Sure I do. I've never had a cavity."

"Liar!" Tony cries, pointing an accusing finger in her direction. "Nobody's as old as you and hasn't had a cavity!"

Her smile turns into a smirk as Jarvis comes in with a tray of snack foods. "You can have an apple," she suggests sweetly.

"Apples have more sugar than your cookie," Jarvis points out. "He can have celery."

"Celery?" Tony complains. "Are you trying to kill me?"

"I've killed people with a cotton ball, Tony, you don't need to get all worked up about a stick of celery," Natasha drawls. She adjusts the skirt of her maid uniform, a common sight for both Tony and Jarvis. It's camoflauge to the highest degree: anyone who wears it is invisible to Howard and Maria's eyes.

"That is terrifying," says Tony. "You are terrifying."

"I try."

"Eat your celery, Tony," Jarvis orders, waving a stalk in front of the boy's face. "Or else."

"Or else what?"

"Or I'll have Miss Romanoff make you eat it."

Tony swallows and grabs for the celery stalk.