Disclaimer: All characters belong to Marvel Studios.

Author's Rant: Should've never watched this movie two times.

Chapter 1

He could blame no one but himself for this. He'd gotten himself into this mess and who's to say anyone would pity him? But then again, when it came to doing rational thinking before acting, he could definitely say that this was just fine.

It was currently fifty four degrees, damn near close to ass freezing. Dressed inside a wool thermal, two pairs of tube socks and sitting close to a heater, the man was shivering. The air condition was purposely colder than a witch's tits and the fellow caught in the midst of this unfortunate situation was clutching balls that shrunk into a set of ovaries. Thoughts of his insanity being gone beyond reasoning were long sense established.

He'd frankly lost his mind.

So why was he sitting there rocking to and fro with a powder blue quilt and sitting in front of an open freezer? Well, he had his reasons.

Anthony "Tony" Starks prided himself on being a man of all trades. A wealthy man, pulled up by his own boot straps into a recognized billionaire. A somewhat patient, calm, intelligent individual who could easily run circles around the smartest people in the world; then when it came down to always being ten steps ahead of everyone, he was pretty much flawless in that category.

However, today. Today was going to be one of the first of many where he discovers that not even he can predict the unexpected.

"I'm sorry, could you—could you repeat that. I think there was this buzzing, irritating sound of disbelief, floating round somewhere."

Pepper sat back against the maroon suave seat in front of her employer's desk, debating on a better approach to announcing her news other than direct. Bringing up her fingers to massage her favorite headache spot, Pepper drew in a low breath and released the rehearsed speech out slower and more comprehendible, "The birds and the bees were at play around sixteen weeks ago and—"

"Leave out the biological myth involved with the insects and raptors and get to the part that matters."

"Ok," She tried again. "You know when two adults get to know one another and it eventually leads to more cozy incidents where—"

"Skip about twenty years of education sweetheart."

"For God's sake Tony, I'm pregnant."

Tony paused, stared then suddenly reached inside his desk draw retrieving his transparent tablet, tapping in a few notes before glancing up to his assistant carefully, "I didn't know it was scientifically possible to be pregnant for 17 months, twenty nine days, and three hours."

"You want to add a few minutes in there?" Pepper straightened out her skirt, blowing out a short sigh. "You're going to make this difficult aren't you?"

"I wouldn't be me if I didn't," The tablet returned to its hiding place, than Tony reclined in his leather chair, rocking back and forth on the support with both sets of finger tips tapping their opposite. "So, who's the lucky sperm donor? Any competition? Someone who can make me feel less of a man?"

Pepper thinned her lips, "It's been twenty five days since you've been back in office, and my private life is far from being priority right now. So, if it's at all possible to squeeze in your signature here, here and here, than we can take a break to discuss my life."

"How's about a trade?" Suggested Tony. "I sign three you give me the dirty. Seems fair enough."

"Not entirely. I'll be sacrificing my freedom of speech in exchange for paperwork."

"And America will appreciate you forfeiting your privileges in the name of gossip." Tony scribbled something close to a legible John Hancock on the first three, than pushed them to the side, resting his chin on top of braided fingers. "Ok, humor me."

"After ninety three signatures, I'll tell you the secret to life."

Tony had the nerve to frown at that. "I discovered the answer's aged Scotch extra dry, extra dirty, extra burn." Can't say he wasn't at least trying to get the information out of her. Pepper was a tough battle axe when she wanted to be. But then again, Tony wasn't so easy to give up. "Is he mostly human?"

There was a long silent, pause of debate on whether the answer was worth giving. Pepper shrugged it off, "About ninety eight percent of him is. Two percent is up for deliberation when he's in heat."

"Yeah, ok, marvelous." A hundred percent of that Tony could've gone without. "About those documents?"

Pepper smiled, dark eyes highlighting her red hair, "Yes, we were talking about those weren't we?" She slide another handful of them, all turned to their desired blank spaces. Her finger pointed out all appointed areas needing a shade of black and blue ink, not missing a single mark. Safe to say they were going to spend the next two or so hours reading through and going over details, Tony was surely going to want confirmation on.

"Pepper," Somewhere between files twenty five and thirty eight—Tony miscounted when his palm cramped—he called his aid, not looking up. His serious tone did however draw Pepper's attention up to his creased brow, set in a focused row of wrinkles. "When are the dates?"

"May 19th 2012 and August 7th 2012, your invites have already been provided for both occasions."

Interesting. "What's his name?"

"Who?" Tony gave her a look. She smiled in return. "Promise not to laugh."

"Laugh?" After scratching down his name, the pen twirled between his fingers. A shaggy eyebrow arched and a peculiar grin spread his goatee. "I could use one."

Pepper chewed her bottom lip, tucking a lock of auburn behind her ear. "Elmo."

The silence to follow was deafening. It took close to ten seconds for that singular word to sink through Tony's unwavering skepticism. His mouth twitched, his eyes averted to the corner of his desk before falling back on Pepper's face. She was serious. "Elmo." He said more as a question.

"Elmo." She confirmed. "Elmo Valentine."

No. No, no, he wouldn't do that. It's too easy. Damn, too easy. "Occupation?"

"Librarian."

Strike two. "Age?"

"Thirty four."

Ok. He'll give her that one. "Hair color."

Pepper perked a delicate eyebrow. "Seriously?"

He cocked his own and waited.

". . . red."

Strike three. Tony looked up to the ceiling, blinking something close to a dose of incredulity, cleared his throat and shifted in his chair, all in single motion. His hand cupped over his mouth and dragged off the threatening smile. Almost. He needed only several seconds to collect his composure before dealing with this feathered issue daintily.

Pepper perched her elbow on the side of the armchair, cupping her chin as she deduced, "You're going to laugh."

"Laugh, who's going to laugh? I'm not laughing. I'm embracing amusement in the back of my throat." Tony shook his vocal chords loose with another clearing. "So you're getting married to a thirty four year old, red haired, librarian named after an outdated toy and a sexual holiday?"

"A popular puppet and Roman saint." She corrected.

"I'm wounded," Tony pressed a palm over his injured heart. "Insulted really. A billionaire owner of an international company, intelligence beyond that of Albert and can shoot lasers from his middle finger; versus Elmo, the thirty four year old, red haired librarian." He shrugged. "That's a direct attack on my manhood."

"A lethal blow for you," Pepper hummed amused, pushing another stack of documents forward. "Just a few more and you can go back to being hopelessly jealous."

"Jealous?" Tony shook his head, black pen scrawling his name over page after page. "Miss Potts, Tony Stark is many words, but jealous does not fabricate my character." Jealous. Him jealous? Miffed, a little stunned with a pinch of green eyed, but jealous? God forbid.

A lengthy silence hovered over that could only be described as intensified anxiety. On one end Pepper was between laughing or stroking Tony's bruised ego. Then there was Tony wishing he'd taken his glass of Scotch before coming to this "required" meeting his assistant had stressed him about. Important should have more than one definition. One based on actual informative necessity and the other pertaining to the shock that would come along with the information.

Pregnant. Damn. Pepper. His Pepper. The same knobby kneed girl with crab red hair and brown freckles was pregnant. Shit. How long was it going to take for that to sink in?

"Two more," Pepper leafed through the files for the final two sheets and laid them out. "Then you're completely free for the next couple of days."

"Fabulous," Snorted Tony. The next two signatures were even messier then the first million but Pepper would take it so long as she witnessed him doing the crime. "There, all better now. You need my seal of approval too?"

"Nope," She shuffled the stack neatly and propped them in a straight pile before standing, making her slightly protruding belly more obvious now that there was a reason behind it. "I'll give you a call should I need another day of Stark-Mania."

"My door's always open."

Pepper waved her good bye, storing the documents under her armpit, tracking for the door across the way. The click of her high heels echoed louder than usual for Tony.

So much farther away and twice as audible. It felt almost final.

"Pepper."

She stopped and turned, hand wrapped around the doorknob. "Yes boss?"

". . . Happy, content, delighted, ecstatic, cheerful, merry?"

There was a smile and a wink, "All of the above."

And he gladly returned it. "Good, go out and get yourself something pretty on me. Something that screams, I gained ten pounds, I'm looking forward to being psychologically unstable and couldn't be happier."

"Thanks, that did wonders for my self-esteem," She chuckled, tossing a final laugh over her shoulder. "Have a good night Mr. Stark."

"You too, Miss Potts." Soon to be Mrs. Elmo Valentine. What a name. "Jarvis," Tony called when he was sure Pepper had gone out of hearing range. "Analyze records for a Valentine, Elmo."

"Already acquired sir. I retrieved the information upon hearing of Miss Potts engagement." Tony refused to comment on that and waited for his request to be fulfilled. "According to the New York public records, Valentine, Elmo is a thirty four year old, librarian, born in New Jersey, a graduate from New York University—"

"Skip the sugar and get to the spice," Tony interrupted smoothly.

"So far there aren't any indications of criminal record sir. As far back as the turn of his eighteenth birthday, he hasn't even received a traffic citation."

He's safe than. Good. That was good. Pepper picked herself a decent fellow. Less worry on Tony's plate now that he knew the guy was nothing passed a puffball. With that out of the way, he had more pressing matters to address; one by the name of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Nick Fury was mad, he was pissed and quite frankly on the verge of cardiac arrest. A normal attitude this late in the evening in Tony's opinion.

The entire Avenger's gang sat around the transparent table in HQ, save for Thor and Bruce, both on personal missions home. Today's discussion was on a paranoid suspicion that there was a traitor amongst the operation, leaking secret information to a terrorist organization called HYDRA.

This really shouldn't come as any surprise since it is S.H.I.E.L.D. The entire employment was paved of intelligent spies and crooked agents. It was their job to lie, cheat and kill. Couldn't get much more suspicious than that.

The mission: Seek and destroy the device being created from S.H.I.E.L.D's files pertaining to ultimate weapon to take over the world and knock out the evil spy. A rather cliché plan but one needing to be taken care of nonetheless.

"So are we all caught up on details or do I need to draw pictures?" Nick questioned, eyeing everyone pointedly.

"If you have the spare time," Tony piped up, swirling the golden Scotch in his glass. "Maybe a few colored ones too."

"Save the ass cracks for the bathroom Stark. I'm far from in the mood."

Naturally their leader wanted to share his piece on the issue and shifted around to face the others, "No one knows how lethal HYDRA operates is as much as I do. So just to be on the safe side, I'll volunteer to take care of this myself and the rest of you can follow up on obtaining the traitor."

Stark hissed a disagreed sound, "Yeah, uh no. Just to be on the safe side, I'll tag along and play sidekick to Liberty Man and figure a faster way to infiltrate the campsite."

Steve frowned, expression grim. "That won't be necessary Tony. HYDRA is—"

"It will be necessary Steve because I know you." Tony stood from his chair, already heading for the door. "You'll crash in, announce yourself as the savor of all mankind, give a speech on evil wrong doers and wait for the enemy to return a long monolog about how he wants to molest you with a death beam." He reached the exit, looking over his shoulder. "I'll just be in the background, diffusing the Lucifer Cannon while you deal with the bad guys. Deal? Ok good."

"He's right Steve. Going in alone might be the advantage they predict," Nick surprisingly approved.

Natasha paused in wonder as her eyes followed after her teammate. "How did you know the name of the weapon?"

"Hacked into the system," Tony simply explained and stopped short, snapping his fingers. "Oh, you might want to rethink using Pentazole over Ethyl azide in Clint's arrows. Junior can't afford another diaper rash." The door slid shut behind him leaving a stunned group of people looking between each other.

Except Nick who was busily calling Hill to find the device used to filter out their data, again.

Clint sunk in his chair looking up to the dark ceiling, "That son of a bitch."

Safe to say this was going to be a very long night and getting longer.

Much to Captain America's wordy dispute on the subject, Iron Man refused to return any added say and just let his boosters do the talking for him already twenty feet above. After a couple of insults and man to man discussion on how irritable, irrational and irresponsible Iron Man was, the Captain concluded he wasn't going to win and Iron Man mentally tallied the score board in his favor.

The travel across the desert wasn't a long one. The night was cool, the sky clear and Iron Man found pleasure in teasing his leader for having to get a piggy back ride on their way. He vowed to take pictures and post them on Facebook for extra likes.

They arrived at HYDRA, did about seventy seven million dollars in technological damage, Captain didn't stray far from his script and neither did the enemy in charge. Iron Man nestled himself comfortably in front of the makeshift cannon supposed to bury half of the country in twenty feet of Winter—still confused on how this benefits the enemy but hey whatever stirred their pudding.

A couple of detaching tubes here, snipping of red and green wires there, a sprinkle of implanted viruses and just for kicks, picking up the entire weapon to discard about fifty miles away and blowing it up to pissed off HYDRA, finished up the night.

Captain American promised to return with more harm ensured but refused to kill off the enemy.

S.H.I.E.L.D. arrived an hour later to steal the glory and to give the super heroes enough time to escape the lime light before the media could get a chance to interrogate them.

Tony had to drag Steve away from the public eye and went so far as threatening him with the photos and video of him hollering at the top of his lungs something similar to a dog whistle during the rapid descent.

There was no further arguing from Steve that night. He didn't speak to Tony for two weeks. Tony appreciated the silence.

Meanwhile, Natasha and Clint had found the double crossing agent and politely kicked his ass through a five story window. Nick escorted the agent to jail himself, wanting some private time with anyone who dared to make him look like a fool.

Five weeks passed without an ounce of super criminal activity and to be honest Tony was flat out bored. Not even a high speed chase, a bank robbery or nada was heard over the police scanner. With there being nothing to occupy Mr. Stark's time, he sort out his second love: Tinkering inside his basement workshop, newly furbished and remodeled below the Avenger's Mansion.

Here was his toy land and he, their oversized tin soldier.

"A hundred bucks says I can get it working by lunch time."

"I'll take that and make it five. You can afford it." Clint said from up top somewhere, Tony couldn't figure out. Apparently a self-created nest. "Seriously? A bonafide villain detector? Nothing else better to do?"

Tony held up his bow torch, testing the flame strength, "Besides making your rash cream, no not really. By the way, apply to affected area twice a day and double if irritation continues." He flipped the mask down and went back to work.

"Really Stark, you're an asshole," Barton popped a green grape in his mouth. "How accurate?"

"Your ass cream?"

Clint choked on his grape, "The detector!" He snapped.

"Within half a mile," Sparks flew and Tony grinned behind his mask. "Gotta break records."

Clint whistled. "Hm, within half a mile? That five is looking like a nice grand."

"You doubt my abilities?" Tony muffled behind the mask.

Clint shrugged and chewed in thought for a while. From his perch he simply observed Tony hammer, drill and quietly fuss over the square shaped device, at times even tapping the thing. "Yo, you ever think about that fight we had with Loki last year?"

"I try not to dwell in the past," Because if he did, he'd remember every blonde, brunette and ginger he'd ever slept with. That could turn messy. On a serious note though . . . "Yeah, I do. Can't help but reminisce about the good ole days."

"Did Thor ever say what Loki's punishment was?"

"Negative," Tony pulled back his mask, wiping a greasy hand over his cheek. "I tried to get it out of him twice and even bribed him with a box of pop tarts. He wouldn't budge."

"Were they strawberry?" Clint asked like it mattered.

"Yep, extra filling," Tony dubbed the instrument in need of more tuning and reached for a monkey wrench. "It's a touchy subject." It really was. Whenever the subject was brought up, accidental or for laughs, Thor would disappear from company. His mood would change so drastically that the gloomy vibes would devour the mansion in clouds of gray. It'd been agreed not to talk about the subject of his brother and to change the discussion to something else. He'd caught on to the attempts and smiled sadly, praising the team for their efforts and saying they didn't have to change their conversations for him. He'd be able to deal with the matter in due time.

But they still refused to say anything about Loki in front of him. "It must've been pretty fucked up," Clint figured. "Maybe that's why he doesn't talk about it." Balling up the empty bag, Clint stuffed it in his pocket and rolled under the bar rile, landing on his feet next to Tony's work table. "I'm about to head up for a while. Nick's riding my ass about patrolling the new campsite."

"Tell him that rash's contagious." Tony called to the exiting man as he disappeared in the elevator. Clint flipped him off right as the double doors closed.

Now alone, Tony had some time to reflect on his own thoughts and take a break from this pointless project. He knew the thing wouldn't work. How silly was it to come up with something this comical? No, it was just something to play around with to keep his mind from doing what he hated most.

Contemplating about personal issues, over himself or anyone. Because of Clint, Tony wondered how the big blond god was doing when alone or when he went back home to Asgard. Was he just as troubled over his brother's wellbeing or wanted to stay tight lipped about the entire thing?

Who was to say? In the end, no matter how long it took, Thor would eventually get over what'd happened. Hell Tony was getting over some things himself. If he could do it, he was pretty sure Thor could too.

"God damn it." Tonight was supposed to be a five hour attempt on some decent sleep but no, Nick Fury had other plans.

A single bleep had appeared on radar a good seventy miles in the middle of New Mexico. It couldn't be a UFO like any other possible nerd would think. Nick assumed it an immediate to earth's population and demanded Stark be the one to patrol the site until he could get some men out there. Stark protested, he was pissed, but Jarvis had already set the suit up for him after the call had ended.

"Sir, we should be approaching the appointed site soon. Landfall is scheduled fifteen point three minutes."

"Lovely," Yawned Tony. "Any signs of life wandering the perimeter?"

"Scanners aren't indicating any danger besides the desert wildlife."

"What? No power hungry, humanoids hell bent on world domination?"

"No sir," Jarvis replied. "Sorry there isn't much to give your evening more meaning."

And Nick was worried? "Damn, remind me why I'm out here again?"

"To investigate possible celestial life forms and confiscate any evidence for—"

Tony sighed, annoyed. "That was sarcasm Jarvis."

"Of course."

Tony disconnected the link between him and the drone for a few minutes, mentally collecting the remnants of his mind that wasn't left back on his pillow at home. All he wanted, for once much to his own shock, was to sleep. Just a few hours, if only three, he wanted a decent shut eye. Wasn't he entitled to some form of rest? It wasn't as if—"Holy Shit!"

All mental complaining aside, Tony nearly lost half his entirety when his HUD flooded with unnatural readings and the surge of shooting fire came barreling down from above. The speed forces boomed loud enough to ring through Tony's armor and propel his body twenty meters back. He connected Jarvis back on line, as he immediately followed after the trail of comet fire heading straight for the earth's surface. "Jarvis, run protocol zero-nine-dash-two-six, and install rocket projection."

"Already initiating notification sir."

Looks like Nick wasn't hyped on paranoia after all. Boosters energized to half max, sending Tony in a spiraling spin fall, uni-beams expanded and prepared to take out the object soaring fast. "Jarvis what's the scan?"

"Massive readings of hydrogen, helium and nitrogen are emitting from the center of the mass in a standstill sir and . . . this may come off as odd but there appears to be a pulse."

"That thing's alive?" Tony questioned, stunned. The—whatever was about two minutes from impact. "Enhance visual."

"Increasing visual status to two hundred and fifty percent."

The HUD screen quickly amplified through five visual modes before the streak object could be seen. "The hell?" There was something—something squirming in what looked like thin fabric. There was no describing what he was looking at, nor time to be logical about his next move. "Jarvis engage maximum acceleration to Mach three."

"Sir, you're too close to ground level, such an increase in velocity could damage—"

"I know the risks. Just do it!"

Iron Man shot off with a boom. The ground shook and the armor rattled. This was dangerous, it was reckless. But hell he'd done much worse. The rapidity took him for a savage nose dive, arms clamped to his sides, in a torpedo form. He was gaining on the flyer, he was getting closer. He reached out his arms, only a foot away.

"Come on," Tony reached, he reached, just a little more, so close. "Got cha!" He enclosed his arms and waited. A split second and titanium was a skirting, flopping tangle of metal. Impact was harsh, the pain dulled my adrenaline. Bone deep agony roared like spit fire as Tony gritted his teeth, unconsciously clutching to the object to his chest.

The powdered sand was his bedding as he soon came to a sliding roll on his back, facing the clear night. The shock drained, realization slowly presented itself and all Tony could do was chuckle like a maniac. "Damn near lost it that time," he grumbled, looking left than right. He grunted sitting up the best he could. "Jarvis, detail damage report in full."

"General repairs are minimum sir, uni-beams are still at great condition and the exterior is dented. Thrusters are at fifty seven percent, just enough for a safe ride."

"Great, great, I think I broke a personal record for reckless endangerment." Still have to remember that skin can only do so much for alloy contact. Tony sighed, thanking his lucky stars that he'd been in the middle of nowhere when he impacted. The whole field was a jagged crater. Had it been Manhattan, Nick would've been hospitalized.

On a brighter note, he caught the thing, which was still moving around despite the heavy slam.

Tony flipped back his face mask and sighed. "Ok, so, let's see what nearly got me killed shall we?"

His hand hovered over the sheet. But it moved and wiggled again. Tony frowned, leaning away cautiously as he debated on taking more risks tonight before the decision was made for him.

The sheet kicked to the side. A tiny blue foot popped out. His eyes grew impossibly wide. A blue foot.

Curiosity ate Tony alive when the flimsy, linen tossed and flopped back over the thing. Tony's fingers caught on and pulled away and if at all possible, his eyes stretched.

Dark, red eyes swam in tears and skin the shade of the richest cobalt blended in with the coiling blanket as it squirmed and whimpered. It was, it was a—holy rays of shit.

When it looked up, a pair lust red eyes focused on him solely and for a moment Tony only stared back, stunned stupid.

Ah god damn.

~The child isn't Loki folks~