It was easily the favorite part of your day; waking up each morning and reaching out to feel the warmth of Tony next to you, waiting for him to wake with you and pull you in closer so that you could spend your last few moments of peacefulness together before the hectic day could begin. Some mornings he would wake first, not allowing you the same gentle awakening that you would; his strong arms would wrap around your waist almost desperately, pulling you in so tightly against him that you would open your eyes at the sensation of your breath being squeezed from your lungs. These were the mornings when a nightmare would be his welcome into the day, happening the most often after a particularly terrible mission or if he had come to bed too late in his exhaustion. But thankfully, more often than not, his first moments of daylight were gentle ones, and the two of you would take the time to just be. Any given day could absorb him in the lab, or Steve would have planned a particularly evil workout session for you, or the worst times being when a mission was called. The two of you agreed to never leave without a proper goodbye, because there was never a guarantee to return home, so when you rolled over this morning to find nothing more than cold sheets against your hand, you panicked in your half-awakened state.

"Tony?"

Nothing. You pushed up to sit, hastily rubbing the sleep from your eyes despite the slivers of blinding sunlight coming in through the windows to leave you squinting and struggling. With a quick scan your room in every direction, you felt even less at ease when there was no sign that Tony had even been there. Everything was neatly in place, and it looked as if he had made his side of the bed before leaving to go wherever he felt that he couldn't share with you.

"FRIDAY, where is he?"

"Mr. Stark is in his office. Should I call him for you?"

"No," you sighed, a heavy relief blanketing your body, "no, it's okay. I'll make my way there. Do you think it's okay if I do that?"

"He did not say specifically that he wanted to be left uninterrupted, so I can't answer that for you. However, I should advise that he appears to be particularly...solemn."

"Great. Okay, thanks, FRIDAY."

"Of course."

With an almost reluctant swing of your legs over the edge of the bed, you sat that way for so long that you had no idea how much time had passed when you finally decided to test your resolve to go to him. A few scenarios ran through your mind, and it slowly came to be that you wondered if maybe leaving him alone really was for the best; if he wanted you there, he would've woken you, right? But he was also the master of torturing himself for things that weren't even his fault; you worried that this was one of those things and that you could save him from so much anguish if you knew what was going on. No matter what situation ran through your mind, it always came back to the idea that if he wanted you there, you would already be at his side at his request. Wouldn't he?

"Okay, I'm gonna go," you decided with barely true certainty. "Yep, here I go...I'm getting up..." you stalled, yet to move.

"Miss, if it helps you in any way, I could tell you that Boss' heart rate is elevated from his norm by twenty beats per minute, and his respirations are quickening as we speak."

"How is that helpful...oh! Right, thanks, FRIDAY, that does help." You now had the confidence that it was the right decision to go, hearing that he was distressed somehow, so if he argued at all as to why you were there, you could ultimately blame it on FRIDAY. You were energized now, stumbling slightly on still fatigued legs to find your shoes, only to decide that they didn't matter when you could only find one. It took the quick swing of your door and your rushing gait through it to get Clint's attention from just down the hall, taking in his look of shock and ensuing laughter to realize that shoes weren't your problem; you had completely forgotten your pants.

"Shut up. Like you've never run around here with your ass out," you snapped at him, rushing back inside to be sure that you were fully dressed before trying to leave again. This time, however, you stepped through the door only to have the archer blocking your path.

"Name once."

"Tony's birthday party," you offered without missing a beat, "Christmas. Steve's birthday party. Easter. Halloween. Flag Day. Last Saturday. Yesterday-"

"I said one!"

"Whatever, Barton, I need to go. I can give you a detailed run down of every indiscretion later." You pushed past him, hearing his grumbling under his breath at your insinuation, but you couldn't focus on that right now; you knew that with every minute lost, Tony was sinking further into whatever abyss he had created for himself. It felt like every step that you took was moving in slow motion and the sound of your footfall echoed so loudly that it drowned out the pounding of your own heart in your ears. By the time that you reached his office door, you felt as if you had been running for miles and your breaths were panting as you stood in his doorway to find his back turned to you and his head lowered into his hands.

"Tony?"

"Hmm?" he startled, spinning his chair around frantic and clumsily at the sound of your voice, a pen cup tipping and spilling across the glass of his desk from the jolt. His eyes were reddened and his face looked as if he had aged years since you had fallen asleep next to him the night before. "Oh, hey, sweetheart. I'm sorry...I was gonna be back up there before you woke up...but I lost...I uh," he paused, sniffling quietly, "I lost track of time, I guess."

"It's okay, I was just worried."

"I didn't mean to worry you, I'm sorry." He spun his chair back around so that you couldn't see what he was doing, but his hands were working fast to gather up something and put it away before you could get next to him. He could hear your footsteps getting closer and began to wonder why he was so determined to hide this, but it only made his hands work that much faster.

"Tony, you don't have to show me what you're looking at," you said, trying to reassure him, "it's okay. I just wanted to be sure that you were alright. I'll go."

"No, wait!" he practically yelped, panicked and urgent to turn to get ahold of you to keep you there. "Wait, (Y/N), please, don't. It's not that I don't want to show you this, it's just...I'm not sure that you want to see it."

"I won't know until I get a chance."

A gentle smile was all he could offer, the best that he could do when his anxiety was pressing him to stay immobile and to keep you at a distance; it wasn't a conscious choice by any means, and he wanted nothing more than to keep you there, so he pushed back against the instinct until he finally won. You stepped closer and into his outstretched arm, readily allowing him to wrap it around you and pull you down onto his lap. "Okay," he began cautiously, "so you know what today is, right?"

"Sunday?"

"It's Mother's Day, sweetheart."

"Oh, shiiiit," you groaned, dropping your head down in regret for bothering him, "I forgot. Tony, really, you don't have to do this."

"Just listen, alright? I was looking through some of my old stuff, wanting to see what I had of Mom's, and I found this," he stopped, reaching down to a box at his feet. When he sat up straight again, he opened his hand to produce a small locket, fumbling slightly to open it and show you it's contents; on one side was a picture of a much younger Howard than you had ever seen, and on the other was a version of your husband that couldn't have been more than five years of age.

"Look at you," you whispered, taking it into your hands delicately, "you're so little."

"Yeah, I wasn't always this specimen that you see before you today," he smirked.

"Hmm, it would seem that the attitude hung on though. Even for a kid, you knew who you were."

"True. Can thank the old man for that."

"Mmm, well then thanks, Howard, from all of us," you smiled coyly, glancing at Tony before returning your focus to the locket in your hand. It was clearly expensive, and you didn't need to know it was purchased by the Howard Stark to know that. The gold still held its shine as it must have been on its first day, the chain sturdy yet delicate, and the pictures inside were protected by the clearest glass without a single scratch or sign of age. This was something that has been treasured by its owner, and you felt almost intrusive to be holding it. When you tried to hand it back to Tony, however, he put up a hand to stop you.

"I want you to have that."

"Why? No, Tony, it's you and your dad. This should be yours."

"It's not really my style," he shrugged with a grin, "and you know how much crap these guys around here would give me if they saw that around my neck. I know that I have textbook narcissism, but wearing my own picture might be pushing the boundaries."

"That's not what I meant."

"Okay, but get this...I was thinking that maybe you and I could put some new pictures in there. And maybe...by next Mother's Day...it would be only yours."

His words finally drew your attention away from the locket with a slight gasp that didn't escape his attention. He was about to continue, but now it was your turn to raise a hand to stop him, your eyes wide with both surprise and confusion as you spoke. Once again, your heart beat tried to wash over your senses to deafen you to your own voice. "I thought that topic was off the table for you...for us."

"I thought so too...but after what we just went through with the team splitting up, and almost losing Rhodes...I started to think about what's really important. Now that things are starting to come back around to kind of normal, and if you still think that I'm the one you want to give this a shot with, then I think I'm ready. I think that there's nothing in the world that could be more important." He reached out and took the item from you and held it up to give it another look, the tears building in his eyes again and this time he didn't try to hide or wipe them away. "I like to think that I made Mom happy, even with everything else."

"You did, honey. I'm sure of it."

"She had the patience of a saint."

"She would have to."

"Hey, now," he chuckled, giving you a playful pinch in your side, "you don't have to agree so quickly. Although, come to think of it, you seem to be pretty patient with me, too. That's gonna come in handy when junior is running around the joint."

"Junior? I thought you were against kids being named after their parents?"

"I've never thought there was anyone deserving of being named after, but that was before I thought that I'd ever have my own kid. Now it makes perfect sense."

"It's too early for this," you groaned, pushing out of his grip despite his attempt to hold you in place. His hands were strong and determined, but it was early even for him, and you could tell that he wasn't putting his all into it. "We're going back to bed, come on."

"But the sun's up..."

"Hey, if this is the last Mother's Day that I get to sleep in, then I'm taking full advantage of it."