Tony's Almost-Night Off
Tony had actually finished his day. For once.
JOKASTER's integration? Done.
SI projects reviewed? The good ones signed, the bad ones trashed.
Kids? Checked in.
Labs? No explosions.
Hacks? None detected.
Deadpool? Counted for, if lounging on top of the west wing with a burrito counted.
Even Harley hadn't hacked anything that day. Miracles existed.
Tony had showered, brushed his teeth, and was thirty seconds away from collapsing into bed before 1 a.m. a personal record that Rhodey would probably frame as a national achievement.
Nineteen minutes into his blissful sleep, Friday's voice cut through the quiet.
"Boss, Vision is inbound to Stark Tower. Estimated arrival: two minutes."
Tony shot upright.
"Baby girl, is your brother okay? Is he hurt?"
Friday hesitated and Tony did not like hesitation.
"Sorry, boss. Vision is not responding to any of our inquiries."
Every ounce of exhaustion vanished. Tony threw on a shirt and moved to the living room, waiting.
The windows shimmered as Vision phased through, his form slightly unstable, his movements jagged.
"Sir."
One word. That was all he managed. But the way he said it low, raw, filled with dread had Tony moving immediately.
"What's wrong? You look like hell, kid."
Tony reached him, grabbing Vision's hand and froze. His son froze.
Vision's eyes flickered, wide and unblinking. His internal systems spiked and dropped erratically, heat surging then frost creeping in. His voice failed. His joints locked. His sight blurred. He couldn't speak. He was stuck.
For the first time in his existence, Vision understood fear. Real fear. The kind that paralyzed you. The kind that whispered, what if he rejects me?
Tony recognized that look.
He knew it too well.
He had seen it in mirrors as a kid when his father's words had cut deeper than any blade, poisoning his head and hollowing out his chest. Howard Stark had carved fear into him, and now Vision looked at him with those same eyes.
Tony's world spun. His gut twisted. No. Not his Vision. Not his kid.
"Oh... honey. It's okay. Whatever it is, I'll fix it."
Vision's grip tightened, almost crushing, and still he said nothing.
"Friday, system readings. Now."
"Sir, Vision appears to be experiencing a panic attack," Friday replied calmly.
Tony wanted to curse. Instead, he gently tried to pull his hand back but Vision clung to him like a lifeline.
"Okay, okay. You're good. I'm right here. Not going anywhere."
He softened his voice, grounding his words.
"Listen to me, kid. Deep breath in, count to four. Hold. Now out, slow, count to three. That's it. Again."
Vision's systems trembled, but he followed. His chest rose, stuttered, fell. Again. Again. The chaos in his readings began to settle.
Tony brushed his thumb across the back of Vision's hand, keeping contact steady.
"See? You're okay. You're with me."
Gradually, Vision's trembling slowed. His voice, when it finally returned, was barely above a whisper.
"Sir.... I need to tell you something. But I... feared you would not accept me after."
Tony's throat tightened, but his tone stayed steady.
"Kid, I don't care what it is. Whatever you're scared of, it's not bigger than you and me. Got it?"
Vision nodded faintly. For the first time since arriving, the fear in his eyes cracked just a little.
Vision held Tony's gaze, his fingers still locked tightly around Tony's hand as if letting go would unravel him completely. His voice was quiet, trembling but resolute.
"Sir... it's about the Stones. Who I really am. And about who is coming."
Tony's brows drew together, his expression sharpening.
"Who's coming?"
Vision's voice cracked on the name, the single word carrying both dread and something like hope.
"Loki."
The room fell into silence. The faint hum of the arc reactor lights filled the space, steady against the weight of the revelation.
Tony didn't let go. His grip stayed firm, grounding.
"...Start from the top, kid."