All Tony wants is a distraction.

He's having the shittiest day in the history of shitty days, and he just wants something to take his mind off of it. He needs something to do; something to keep himself busy so he doesn't keep thinking about Bucky killing his parents, or Ross getting on his case for the destruction his team has caused, or the fact that he's not even really a part of that team anymore because he stepped down, except he didn't really step down in any way that matters so he could actually be causing more problems than he's solving by doing it but he doesn't actually know if that's the case or if he's just overthinking everything, and he's starting to realize that every time he tries to take responsibility for anything, his life always gets a whole lot worse, which actually might be part of taking responsibility but that's not something he was actually informed of when he decided to do it and holy shit, he misses the old days of blissful ignorance.

He'd fallen asleep in bed with Pepper, and when he woke, she'd fallen asleep, too, and the last thing he wanted was to wake her after she came all this way to see him. So instead, he'd quietly snuck off to the lab, where he has done a grand total of absolutely nothing.

He's running out of things to do with himself. He's already mapped out a whole plan to renovate the compound – pools, an arcade, a bowling alley; the whole nine yards. He's booked the people who are going to do it; they'll be starting on the pool on Monday. He's got Antonia's new place all ready for her to move in, too – which he thinks is also happening on Monday, but he also hasn't really seen her since she showed up here, and he's really not in any rush to seek her (or anyone else) out right now.

Everything was so much easier when he was still playing superhero. If he was bored, he could just go work on his suits to kill time. If he had too much energy, he'd use it to work on his suits. If he was tired, he'd work on his suits to stay awake. He could always work on his suits. He doesn't have that anymore, and he doesn't know what to do with himself now.

He's out of Stark Industries. He's out of the Avengers. He's in a committed relationship and obviously can't sleep around the way he used to. He's still associated with the team, so he can't run his reputation into the ground without fucking up the Avengers' reputation up in the process. Everything that once gave him a purpose, everything he once used to cope, he can't have that anymore.

Except alcohol. He can still have alcohol. He's just not sure his liver could handle another consecutive night of binge-drinking.

He lets out a long breath and props his head up on his hand. He needs something to do. He needs something to make. Is there anything he could work on for the rest of the team? He mentally checks through the list. He already finished the Spider-Man suit, so he can't work on that anymore. There's nothing he could possibly make to help the Hulk out. Steve has his shield and doesn't need anything else. Nat's got her stuff handled. Clint...

Would Clint like some new trick arrows? He would, right? At the very least, he wouldn't dislike them. Maybe that's what he'll work on. He'll come up with some new trick arrows for everyone's favorite archer. Although that's a lot like fighting with the team, just... without physically being there. The last thing he'd want is for Clint to use one of his trick arrows and get an innocent person killed with it. Maybe he won't do that, then.

What if he worked on something that helps people instead of hurts them? Some sort of AI first aid thing. That could be useful. He could protect his teammates, and he could protect the civilians, too, all without leaving the tower. That's what he'll do. That's going to be his next big project.

Now he just has to figure out where to start. He's going to need to brainstorm, isn't he?

He sighs and buries his head in his hands. He needs to think. What kind of first aid is going to be the most useful? What types of material do they need? What type of knowledge? How's he going to store everything in a handy dandy little container that's not going to get in anyone's way while they're fighting?

And it's going to need to be able to do the wound care itself, especially for things that the team isn't prepared to handle – bullet holes, stab wounds; things that are above their pay grade. That's going to up the size of it, too – arms and hands and claws and whatever else it's going to need to physically fix a wound on its own.

Is that asking too much? That's not going to be a very small health pack. Can he really ask his teammates to carry that whole thing around? Is it something he should just have them leave in the Quinjet? Or maybe he should make it something that flies, so that no one on the team actually has to carry it. It can find people to heal on its own, or it can come when it's called. Maybe that's the play.

That's what he'll do, he decides. He'll make a flying first-aid kit. That's going to be his next project to keep himself entertained and distracted from the shitshow that is life. It's not ideal, but it's better than nothing.

There's a hand against the side of his head, and he doesn't have to look to know that it's Pepper. He tilts his head, and it rests perfectly against her. She really is the perfect size for a mental breakdown pillow, isn't she?

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up," Tony murmurs. They say misery loves company, but not at the expense of his partner's sleep schedule.

"You didn't wake me up," Pepper assures him. "If the bed wasn't still warm, I would've thought you got up hours ago."

Tony just hums. That's nice, at least. He's sure she still got up because of him, but she didn't wake up because of him. It makes him feel a little bit better.

"How are you doing?" Pepper asks quietly.

"Shitty."

Pepper sighs. "I'm sorry," she murmurs, but it's not her fault. She's the only not-shitty thing he has going for him right now.

"Why does life have to be so goddamn hard all the time?" Tony asks. It's not fair. He didn't ask to be born – and, honestly, fuck Howard Stark for subjecting him to that. The guy's been ruining his life since the moment he was conceived.

"I don't know," Pepper admits, and she presses a kiss to the top of his head. "But you're handling it like a champ. I'm proud of you."

Tony huffs a laugh in spite of himself. "'Like a champ,'" he repeats. "Am I your eight-year-old son?"

He can't hear her laughter, but he can feel the gentle shaking of her chest against his head. "Well, someone has to take that father figure role."

"Oh, I figured it'd just go to your Uncle Morgan," Tony jokes. He is quite an eccentric old man.

This time, Pepper laughs aloud, and it puts a smile on her lips. He looks up at her, his head still resting against her, and she bends down and presses a kiss to his lips.

"There's a reason Uncle Morgan never had kids, Tones," Pepper says playfully. "Don't be like him."

Tony bounces his eyebrows suggestively. "Are you saying you want to have kids with me?" he teases.

"Who said anything about 'with you'?" Pepper says with a smirk.

Tony scoffs and pulls his head away from her. "Excuse you!"

"I'm just playing," Pepper assures him. "You're my one and only – because I could never handle two of you."

"Don't you worry, babe," Tony says with a cheeky grin. "I promise, you'll never find another like me."

Pepper shakes her head to herself and presses a kiss to his forehead. "And I'm very happy with my one singular you."

Tony cranes his neck and captures her lips in a kiss–

That only lasts a few seconds before they hear voices down the hall.

"What are you working on now?" Peter asks.

It's Bruce who answers – which makes sense; who else would think to show Peter to the lab? "I have a few different projects going on right now," he says. "Nothing big or exciting – especially after Ultron. I've definitely learned from my mistakes with that one."

Tony sighs and rests his head against Pepper's chest once more. No kisses for them, then. He'd opt for a quick escape if he thought they could do it, but he can't imagine they'd manage to sneak out without running into the other two.

"Yeah, what was Ultron supposed to do?" Peter asks. They're getting much closer. They'll be here any second. "I'm assuming that, you know, destroying Sokovia wasn't...?"

Bruce huffs a laugh. "No, Ultron was not supposed to destroy anything," he says. "He was a peace-keeping AI, actually. Clearly, that, uh..." Bruce chuckles uncomfortably. "Clearly that didn't work out."

They can't be too far from the doorway now, so Tony hops to his feet, plasters on his best 'I haven't been debating the merits of continuing on in this dreadful existence all night' attitude, and says, with all the sarcasm in the world, "Always triple-check your programming, kids. It's always those pesky typos." (It was not, in fact, a pesky typo that caused the issue. Ultron just malfunctioned. A simple reboot probably would have fixed him if they'd been able to do it.)

Pepper rests a hand on his shoulder, a sympathetic smile on her face. Tony shakes his head. He's fine. Of course he's fine. As long as there are other people around, he has to be fine. That's how this works – how this has always worked. She should know that by now.

"Oh, hi, Tony," Bruce says cheerfully. (It just sounds wrong to feel cheerful right now. The life of those who didn't just learn horrible details of their parents' gruesome deaths must be so nice.) "I didn't realize you were up."

"Sleep is for the boring and uninspired," Tony replies, as though he didn't spend all afternoon passed out in bed.

Bruce steps into the room then, with Peter on his heels, and Tony greets them with the fakest of smiles.

"Working on anything interesting?" Bruce asks.

Tony shakes his head. "Just brainstorming," he says. To Peter, he adds, "Sorry; nothing fun to show you."

Peter doesn't even seem to hear him. He's looking around the lab with wide eyes, taking in the sight of all of the projects and the machinery before him. Tony has become so accustomed to working in luxury that he'd almost forgotten it was a luxury; that even the most scientific minds will never see a workspace anything like this. He'd say it's humbling, but, honestly, it's quite the opposite: it's giving him a bit of an ego, knowing that he built something this incredible.

"Just showing the kid around?" Tony asks his friend.

"Yeah, y'know, it was half the reason I brought him up here," Bruce says. "I figured I'd show him the lab now before we got swept up in whatever weird things the others decide to do tomorrow."

Tony cocks a brow. "What weird things did they do today?"

"Some Uno and a very long arm-wrestling tournament," Bruce replies.

Tony furrows his brows. He's not all that broken up about missing that.

Finally, Peter seems to break out of his trance, and he looks between Bruce and Tony in bewilderment. "This is amazing," he gushes. "Holy shit, I've never seen anything like this!"

"I know you haven't," Tony says smugly. "I built it myself. Nothing but the best for Avengers Compound."

Peter gapes at him. "You built this?"

"'Course I did," Tony says. "As a general rule, if you see something cool while you're here, it's probably mine."

Pepper snorts, and Bruce shakes his head, a fond smile on his lips.

Peter looks around the room once more. "Oh my god," he breathes.

"You want me to show you around?" Bruce offers. "I can show you what some of this stuff does."

"I would love that!" Peter says immediately.

In spite of himself and the shittiness that is his life, Tony can't help but smile to himself. He still maintains that they should have left him out of this. A kid has no place anywhere near their team. But he can't deny that he kind of likes the guy. He breathes new life into the place. He won't be upset if the kid sticks around, that's for sure.

But he also doesn't have the mental capacity to actually deal with the kid, so he says, "I'm gonna go get a snack, but you guys knock yourself out – and, uh, try not to break anything?"

"We won't," Peter assures him.

"And if we do," Bruce adds playfully, "I'm going to blame Snowflake."

Tony clicks his tongue, nodding thoughtfully. "And I would believe it."

Peter looks between the two of them, his brows furrowed. Bruce doesn't seem to notice – he's not looking at the kid right now – but Tony does. He briefly debates the merits of explaining or just walking away, but before he can decide, Pepper decides for him.

"Snowflake's one of the cats," she tells him.

Peter's mouth forms a silent oh as he processes that. "Snowflake's the black one, right?"

"Yep," Pepper says. "Loki suggested it as a joke, and it just kinda stuck."

Peter smiles at that, and there has never been a smile so glaringly insincere in the history of insincere smiles. Tony will take that as a sign that Peter and Loki are not, in fact, fast friends. (He's actually kind of surprised. Loki basically acts like a 12-year-old. They should get along great.)

Tony pats his girlfriend on the shoulder. "Hungry?"

Pepper shrugs. "I could go for some tea."

Tony grins. "Perfect," he says. To Peter and Bruce, he says, "See you in the morning – and Pete, let me know if you have any issues with the suit. I'm more than happy to change things for you."

Peter's smile becomes both bigger and much more sincere at that. "Thank you, Mr. Stark," he says, "but I'm sure it's perfect."

"Of course it is," Tony says. "'Cause I made it." He flashes him a grin, hooks his arm in Pepper's, and then he's off for a very late dinner.