Weekend at Happy's >> Tony Stark & Child!Reader

Title: Weekend at Happy's


Paring: Parent!Tony Stark & Daughter!Child!Reader


Warnings: written from the perspective of a child, mentions divorce, angst. Fluff.


Spoilers: set within and after Captain America: Civil War. There may be spoilers!


Requested by: S1Black1Fox (I hope you like what I've written for you!)


Author's Note: This is written from the perspective of a child, but seeing I'm almost twenty years old, it's been a while since I've been around kids, let alone being one. So please forgive me if I get stuff wrong!


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When your Mommy and Daddy split up, one took you, the other the company. Every day was like Christmas with Dad; even if his facial hair wasn't white, or long like Santa Claus, he did his best to make you try to forget that your family was different to before. You were seven years old, and certainly not an idiot; after all, your father was Tony Stark, and your mother was the hard-working Pepper Potts. But everything was changing again, but bigger.


But all you wanted to do was have someone play dolls with, and nobody was able to do that.


Since your Dad was an Avenger, and was always zooming around the world in his shiny red and gold suits, he was never home enough to play with your toys and wind-up cars. You might be of age to go to school, but you were yet to go to school with other kids your age, and instead learned with F.R.I.D.A.Y and your long-distance teacher on the computers.


You'd met Steve Rogers before, but he wasn't able to play with your toys. Neither could Natasha, or Clint, or even Thor. Uncle Happy said that the Avengers were having some troubles, and that they needed to fix them before they came to play with your new doll house. He didn't mention where Thor was, but you knew the god was probably in his castle playing dolls with his brother. It was okay. Even though you didn't have a brother, you knew it was important that Thor played with him a while, even if you couldn't join in.


Maybe who you missed the most was Fun Wanda. She wasn't like the other Avengers; she was younger, and her eyes lit up like there was fairy magic in her. She had shown you some of her special things – how colours came from her fingers, and made things she didn't touch do things. She was just like a princess; her hair was long, and her fingers, too. They were good fingers for braiding hair with the flowers she made from her special gift. She had laughed when you had first called her Fun Wanda; her face lit up like something from a story book.


On the eighth day without seeing anyone but Uncle Happy, you packed a bag. Stuffed into your lamp-shaped backpack were a few of your favourite toys, the book you had been reading with Sam ("'The Story of Doctor Dolittle' is awesome, you're going to love it! he'd said, and then only had time to read only half to you) and a pair of spare socks. But before you could sneak out to find someone to play with you, you were stopped. By Uncle Happy.


"Where do you think you're going?" He asks you, raising a brow.


"Out," you reply. "To someone who will play with my toys with me."


He extends a hand to your shoulder, and reroutes you to face inward the apartment. "________, it's not that I don't want to play toys with you...I'm busy. I need to make sure you're safe." Bulging out from the zipper is your novel, complete with the bookmark Sam left in it. Happy notices it, and adds, "How about you sit down, and I'll read?"


"No thank you," you shake your head, defiant, but still polite. "I want Fun Wanda, and Steve, and Clint who makes monkey faces with me over the table," you feel tears welling in your eyes, and you add, "I miss my Dad, and Mommy."


Uncle Happy doesn't say anything while you hiccup through your tears, almost like you're a little baby again, and wailing to get your way. But you've tried crying to bring your parents back together. It hadn't worked the first time.


The phone in his hand vibrates, and once again, he must take the call. "Sir? Sir – okay. Yes. I'll send a plane at once. Yeah. All right. yes, stay still." He takes the phone from his ear, and with a flurry, he's texting, and tapping at the holo-screen of the modified phone with graphs in big words you haven't get gotten the hang of. "Okay. One has been dispatched. Sit tight."


You swallow, watching Uncle Happy. "Was that my Dad?"


He nods, slowly.


"Why didn't you let me talk to him?" you ask him. "You always let me speak to Dad when he's on the phone."


The bodyguard and close friend of Tony Stark took a moment to consider his words. Then, "I know, ________. Your dad just needs to focus on coming home first. It wasn't a good connection, you wouldn't have been able to talk long."


You cross your arms. "Why won't you let me go find anyone to play with?" you ask him, but before he can speak, you add, "I'm seven, not an idiot. I know there's something going on." You point to the TV in the corner, virtually untouched since you'd been left in the apartment with Uncle Happy. "I might not have access to the internet here, but the news last night said something about the Avengers."


Happy nods. "There's...a problem." He admits, and adds, "You remember that time I took you to the supermarket, and we only had enough money to buy one tub of ice cream, but you wanted mint choc chip, and I wanted vanilla?" He asks.


"Yeah, but I had Dad's bank card. We ended up buying both." You remind him.


Happy agrees with you, but stroking his chin in thought, he adds, "Uh, how about...pretend we didn't have the card. And that you had no choice but to have vanilla ice cream even if you didn't want to, because I said so." He tells you.


You stick your tongue out. "Bah! It's yucky."


He nods. "But I like vanilla, and it wouldn't bother me that much. See, the Avengers sort of have to all agree on a certain ice cream flavour, otherwise they can't be Avengers anymore without being thought of as bad guys."


Your eyebrows skyrocket. "But they're not bad guys! They're the good guys!" you protest. "How can they be bad guys just for wanting their own ice cream?"


Happy takes a deep breath. "Um, in real life, it's not ice cream they have to agree on. It's a set of rules that mean they must work under the order of the government. Sort of like the police, except they've got Thor." He tells you slowly. "Got it?"


You shake your head, but then nod quickly. "N-yeah. But that's not right. The Avengers are supposed to be heroes for the people, Happy, not the government! What if the government do bad things, like when the snake-people were inside Mr. Coulson's house?"


Happy frowns. "Do you mean when HYDRA infiltrated S.H.I.E.L.D.?" He asks.


You nod. "If the bad people are in charge of the Avengers, how can they save the day? How can Daddy save the day?" You swallow, looking down. "I don't want Dad to be a bad guy."


Happy puts a hand on your shoulder. "He isn't a bad guy, ________." Despite focusing on other things, there is still residue of tears in your eyes, and wiping them away, you take your backpack off, kick your sneakers off, and retreat to your bedroom. "________? Are you okay?"


You shake your head. "I want my Dad."


-


When your Mommy and Daddy split up, Steve had given you a toy rabbit, named Rabbit. At first, it had smelt of Captain America, but after time, it had lost the red, white, and blue scent. Instead, your bunny smelt of bacon (often your rabbit joined you for breakfast and fell into the serving plate. Such a naughty bunny), and was the one thing that helped you to go to sleep.


But tonight, after the day of boredom and a botched-up escape plan, your mind was still buzzing, and the smell of your rabbit wasn't helping. Instead, in the light of your glow-in-the-dark stars, the buttons on rabbit's eyes were lit up, full of ideas.


"I wonder when Dad's going to be home," you whisper to Rabbit, as quiet as you can be. Uncle Happy is in the next room, reading from his newspaper like a Proper Adult that your Dad really isn't. "I wish the Avengers weren't fighting with each other. It makes me think about how Mommy and Dad fight. They're always loud."


You lay there, waiting for Rabbit to comfort you. But your stuffed toy doesn't reply to you. It's only a toy.


When you wake, there's a hand on your head, softly parting your hair from your face. You blink slowly, and waking, see whose hand it is who is calmly bringing you to the land of wakefulness. Slowly, a sleepy smile comes over your face, and at once, you sit up, and give him your biggest hug that you can give.


"Dad!" you cry out. "I missed you!" There are cuts and scrapes all over him, like he's been go-karting without you. But still, he has a big smile, and he's holding you tight too. "Uncle Happy told me about what happened with the Avengers."


He raises an eyebrow. "Did he?"


You nod. "Yeah. The whole Avengers had to agree on one ice cream flavour, but not everyone liked what they had to choose," you tell him, "But it wasn't about ice cream."


Your dad hums, looking down at you with his warm brown eyes full of love, "That's right. But uh, I'm thinking of taking some time off all the superhero stuff, ________. I think I should go into a different business."


"You won't be Iron Man anymore?" You frown.


"Yeah, I'll still be Iron Man," he tells you. "But I'll focus on other stuff. How about you, and I have all day to do what you want. Disneyland, or pancakes, or –,"


"Can you play with me?" you ask him.


Your dad, the legendary Tony Stark, the invincible Iron Man nods. "Sure, kiddo. Want to play house, or science, or –,"


"Science!" you shout, and wriggling from his grip, go to get your toys to set up the scene for the pretend laboratory. "You can be my assistant, Daddy. We're going to make stuff to make people fly!"


He grins. "Woah! Sounds cool!"

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