01 x  THE ONE WHERE DAD'S A SUPERVILLAIN

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"We can do this."

"Honestly, honey, it's just—"

"We're going to take them down."

As if conjuring a magic trick like a second-rate sorcerer, Tony's hands went behind his back to produce a bar of unopened chocolate. The plastic rippled loudly, on purpose, and Elle cast it a dubious glare. Even after ten years of being married to the man and fourteen years of knowing him, she could never understand the inner workings of his genius.

"Ta-da!" He sang.

Elle enacted the perfect face-palm with a soft groan. "See, this is why I can't ever trust your paternal instincts."

Tony's eye twitched. "It's bait."

"Oh," her small lips made an O, bricks of realization falling over her. "That makes sense."

"What did you think?"

"Truly? I thought you were having one of your fake pregnancy cravings." 

Elle received a sharp smack in the upside of her head for that one. Tony peeped from the edge of the porch swing with his hand shielding his eyes. Scanning the garden space that unfurled beyond and enveloped into the silvery lake, he ducked back down with a deflated sigh.

"No sight of them," he told her, wiping away imaginary sweat from his brow.

"You forgot your spy glasses."

"You're right," he pushed his lips out, discouraged. "I'll go get—"

"Oh, give it to me," she grumbled, grabbing the chocolate bar from his hands and sauntering away without giving the necessary scan of the playfield. 

Tony hissed, pulling the collar of his shirt as if speaking into a fixed intercom. "Woman down, I repeat, woman—"

"You're an adult!"

"And you're no fun."

Her blue eyes smouldered with resentment. "We find them, grab them and dunk them. End of conversation."

"You've been hanging out with Romanoff too much."

"Get over here, Stark!"

Tony slumped into himself in frustration, jogging down the stairs and following Elle's footsteps. He plunged behind her, lacing a hand around her elbow. "It was your body that produced twins, Elle. Your fault."

She rolled her eyes, tearing the foil of the chocolate bar with her teeth. "It takes two to tango, baby."

"You seduced me," he shook his head. "Your idea to have sex on a Friday night. Friday's are unlucky—ow!"

Elle's slender hand had cupped Tony's mouth to shush and push him against one of the looming redwood trees that rounded their homestead, past the wooden fences. He struggled with a slow groan of pain leaving him as the sharp bark bit into his skin, feeling something weird crawl against his leg. Please don't let it be a spider, or a scorpion, or a reptile or a—

Elle's head bobbed to the side, widening her eyes in delight. "Found them."

He shoved her hand off his mouth, accompanying her in taking a peek. On cue, she pointed a finger at the upturned paddle boat that rested on the banks of the lake, a trio of oars resting over the hull and sterns.

Under the raft, he heard the softest of giggles echo from the boat. A snuffle of whispers crossed their earshots and Elle counted three tones of voices.

"All three," she whispered. "Bingo."

"Alright, game plan," he fit his chin into her shoulder so that she could hear him clearly. "I turn the boat over. You grab Mags, I'll get the twins. Copy?"

She shot him a two-finger salute. "Paste."

"Hardy har-har."

"It's a tech joke," she smiled sweetly. "You don't like that?"

"Not funny, soldier. Let's go."

Careful to make any noise, they each took either side of the space and putting a good foot of distance between them. The grass crunched inaudibly under their feet, Tony tiptoeing to the gaping side where the barricade of the boat relaxed over a rock.  

Elle got into position, loosening her shoulders with a game smile. He held up three fingers, mouthing along. Two. One.

Tony gave out a warcry as he grabbed the tail end and flipped it over. The three, short figures underneath screamed in numerous shrill tones, laughter fastened with their thrilling delight. Two pairs of azure eyes and one pair of rust-coloured ones came into sight, all of them immersed into amusement and fear of getting caught. 

Margo Stark was the easiest to catch because Elle handled it. The ten-year-old had no chance of escape as her mother quickly swooped her into her arms, her brunette hair flailing around and blocking her sight. Loud hoots of cries left her but an unrestrained Elle flopped her askance over her shoulder. All done for. 

Elle groaned as her eyes fell on her husband. "What in the—you had one job."

"Wrong, I had two!" He tried to yell back. 

The twins were, easy to say, difficult. Because there were two of them and both were too mischievous for their own good. 

Honing their father's every feature and the ditto of the other, Chip and Poe Stark were the least likely to give in. The only way to differentiate between the other was the eyes, Poe's blue and Chip's brown nevertheless, Elle was always mistaken. 

Taking advantage of Tony's momentous disorientation, the four-year-olds had efficiently tackled their father to the ground, Poe leaping onto his shoulder to force his scruffy head to the grass and Chip had gotten the legs. Tony, unable to move and hurt any of them with rash advances, laid still with a grumble. 

"Goddamn it. Why is it always me?"

Elle gripping a squealing Margo raised her voice at the twins. "Emerson and Primrose, get off your father, now!"

"He started it!" Chip complained and Poe angrily nodded along with her brother. 

"A bath," he groaned, his answer stifled with his daughter's pressurizing hand on his face. "All I wanted was to clean your stinky butts." 

"My butt is clean!"

Tony's response was muffled due to the small palm the squished his cheek to the dearth. Poe was grinning wide, a smile that resembled her father in every way.

"I say we will not have it!" Chip cried out, pumping a fist in the air as if wanting to star in an advertisement.

Elle glared at the little boy. "We're having dinner in the city tonight at Uncle Rhodey's place. I do not want you two, stink bombs, capsizing it."

"Daddy threatened us to throw us into the river!"

"Me too," Margo joined in with a groan, who was currently facing the drawbacks of her mistake. She had gotten a splinter on her palm and shin. "Then again, he always says that."

"I'm this close to really doing it to these two," Tony's muffled threat ensued, gasping with wide eyes all of a sudden. "Chip, not my boys—oof."

"Get off him," Elle, the bad cop, murmured sternly. "Margo, take care of your sister, please."

"Oka—"

"Don't even think about running off," she warned her as she let her daughter's feet hit the ground. Meanwhile, Poe's hands moved quickly to sign to her older sibling, mouthing the expressions with a grimace.

"Yeah, I know," Margo drawled, helping Poe up from her father's back. 

Elle was a little distressed with sign language but very much aware of the worsening aphasia in her youngest whereas, Tony and Margo had caught onto ASL quick. Gifted with camphor intelligence and IQs that shot the stratosphere, they had no pressure in learning it. Multiple doctors had provided alternatives, solutions and treatment but, it was inevitable. Primrose was fated to be mute yet, it never stood in her way of being the most naughty in the Stark household.

"Ah, man," Tony groaned, clutching his nether region in excruciating pain, as Chip reluctantly released his clutch on his ankles. "Ow, never handling those two again."

"Chip, Poe," Elle ordered with hands over her hips in seriousness. "Shower in five. Margo, you too."

They started to collectively groan. "But—"

"No buts."

Margo's lips quivered as she pointed to her own butt. "Not even this perfect one?"

Tony started to chuckle at her comment. "Don't anger the momster, Mags."

Poe looked up her father who was relieving a crick in his neck gifted by his very own. Her tiny hands angrily moved to sign for him.

"No, you will not sit next to Uncle Rhodey," he stressed, his hands stringing together ASL actions fluently. Poe could still hear but it was habitual for Tony to reply with signs. 

Poe signed again, pouting. Elle caught onto a few words: eat, cake, half. Ah, Rhodey always gave his dessert to her. 

Tony cocked a brow. "Precisely why I'm not letting you. Now, scram."

The unhappy trio took off to the house, angry steps reverberating through the yard. As soon as the door bashed close and the usual coalition of arguments followed. 

"Ma, the heater's switched off!"

"Where's my towel, Margo?"

"Where you left it, dumbass."

"Language," Tony's yell added into the mix. 

"Ugh, Poe got her hair in clog hole!"

"Chip, give me back my underwear!"

"You know," Tony looked at Elle with lips pressed tightly together. "Mexico is right around the corner."

She laughed, interlacing her hand with his and yanking him forward to stumble up the porch stairs. "If we don't make it past midnight, I will take up that offer."

"You're a bad mom."

"Mhmm," she hit her lip, snaking her hands around his waist. "And you suggested it."

"Could've said no," he shrugged, eyes flickering down to her mouth. A soft exhale left her lips and he let out a defeated sigh. "But, yes sounds magnificent. I'll just dump the kids at Pepper's."

Elle deadpanned, unimpressed with his answer, slamming her hand over his shoulder. "Dickhead."

∞

After hours of scrubbing, cleaning and primping the kids like it was salon day, the Stark household had been immersed into the strangest phenomenons they had experienced in a while. Silence. Quiet, real silence. 

Tony, forced to stay still, hobbled down to the first floor and looked between the kitchen and the foyer that led to the backyard. No sign of Elle and the twins. He heard the soft strumming of a laser a floor down, the basement, where he realized Margo had taken residence. Margo: check.

Walking down to the living room located on the south end of the staircase, he saw the television on mute and a mush of even brunette hair leaning onto the cushion of the sofa. Wide blue eyes were hidden from sight, her arms safely swathing openly snoring Chip and Poe to her chest. 

One had snuggled on her side, bushy locks hiding Chip's face and on the other hand, Poe had straight-up sprawled over her. She sucked on her ring and index finger which Tony made a face at, pushing her hand away. A silent snort left Poe, drawing her fingers back into her mouth again. 

Tony sighed. Elle, Poe, Chip: Check.

"Daddy?"

"Yep?" His gaze flickered to Chip who had awoken with a sleepy daze, scrubbing his eyes. Tony, unable to hold back, ruffled a hand into his curls.  

"What if," he looked to a sleeping Poe and dipped his voice to a whisper, "what if Poe never speaks again?"

"Uh," Tony scratched the back of his ear, thinking of to sound knowledgeable and more like Elle. He bit on his lips, shaking his head. "Even if she doesn't speak at all," he tried to say, "she'll still be your sister. We just gotta have hope and make her feel useful."

"I tried to sign," he nodded. "But I don't think I get it right."

"You're your mom's son alright," he smirked to which Chip frown deepened a fraction. 

"Don't talk about Mom like that."

"Mommy's boy," he teased.

"She's cooler than you will ever be," he fought back and when Elle stirred with the commotion, they made sheepish faces and prayed that she went back to sleep. And she did, pulling Poe into a deeper embrace and instinctually patting her daughter's back. 

"You're always fixing stuff," he mumbled quietly, looking at his twin. "Can't you fix her?"

"She's not an android, Chippie."

"Oh haha," Chip grumbled in a monotone, "I forgot how to laugh."

"I mean it," Tony chuckled, seating himself over the coffee table nearby. "Rose could be going through a phase or maybe even shy. We just have to wait."

"I want to help," Chip attempted. 

"You just have to keep talking to her," the realist offered, shrugging. "Like Mags. Mags is always talking to her."

It was an astonishing truth. When the twins arrived, Elle and Tony had expected nothing but jealousy from Margo. To their surprise, the six-year-old had an unforeseen change in her behaviour, especially during the first few weeks of their arrival. I wanted one, she had squealed to her mother, but you got me two and one of each! Obviously, as the years rolled by, Tony wondered if he really wanted three of his dittos ganging up on him during times of trouble. 

"Because she's smart!" Chip threw his hands in the air to express his frustration. "She's smarter than all the kids in her class!"

"Because she's encouraging," Tony corrected. "She's helping Poe open up."

"I can encourage," he whined in reason. "I encouraged you to bake me cookies last week."

"Chip, you threatened to singe my eyebrow off before you told me so."

His son's smirk was so prankish; definitely got that from the dad. "Yeah, but you did it."

"Because you stole my razor when I said no."

Chip leaned into the sofa, folding his twig arms around his chest in a shameless endeavour to look cool. "What's your point, Stark?"

Tony, least bothered, placed his hand over Chip's face and smothered him into the sofa. "That's dad to you, Stark."

"Okay fine," he pushed his father's hand away from his face to shoot him a convinced glare. "I'll talk to Poe more. And you have to talk to Margo."

Tony cocked a brow. "Why?"

His smile turned sheepish. "Oh."

"Chip."

"Dad."

"What's going on?"

"I'm sitting here and listening to you."

"Metaphorically speaking."

"Meta-who-ha?"

Tony sighed, rubbing on his temples. Only four, only four, he chanted in his head. "Okay, fine, don't tell me," he grunted and—on an impulse—pressed a kiss onto Elle's forehead, repeating the motion on Poe.

He grimaced as Chip looked up at him, nailing Bambi's eyes and poked his bushy-curled head higher. With a smile, he grabbed his tiny head between his hands and placed a nice, long kiss. 

"Love you, too," Tony laughed into his hair. "Yell when your mom wakes up. Don't wanna be late to Rhodey's party."

∞

Pop music blared from the soundproofed walls of the basement, Margo's head bobbing to the beat and a screwdriver fit between her lips while her hands worked on perfecting wiring on some sort of a motherboard she was working on. 

Tony halted in his steps when he really saw what she was working on. His eyes twitched, rounding to the size of saucers and a whole episode of flashbacks coming to him. 

"Holy fu—!"

Before the cuss left her father's mouth, Margo had tossed her greasy towel at his face. It flopped over where she wanted, efficiently muffling his yell.

"Ssh," Margo ran to him, "you'll wake them up."

Tony ripped the towel off his face, channelling all his wrath to his face and trying to wear an expression of pure rage. Sadly, he ended up with the appearance that fluctuated between constipated and confounded. That being said, doing 'dad' work didn't come easy.

Right then, he realized how much Margo had come to look like her mother. Losing her baby curls to Elle's signature pin-straight brunette tresses, and blue eyes that were so blue, it was almost the mother and daughter carried the sky in their gazes. She was barely ten, already more of a genius than he was.

When Tony began to reap the benefits of Margo's gifted intelligence, he promised he would never take it too far. Without his notice, somehow slipping from his hands, here she was. Proving that she indeed was the biggest pain in his ass.

"Dad," Margo chuckled into her hands and snorted. "Stop."

"I am very, very—"

"—much in need of a bathroom?"

"No, I—"

"—need a doctor."

"Stop—"

"—being accurate?" She grinned. 

Tony pushed past her, seeing the blasphemous invention preparing itself to wreak havoc over the world he had spent way too much time trying to save. He let out a muffled, very dramatic cry and dropped his forehead onto the table.

"No," he sniffled. "This can't be happening."

"Aw, Dad," a hand slipped over his shoulder firmly, "don't waste your tears yet. But, yeah, isn't she beautiful?"

"I literally just stopped being Iron Man," he muttered. "Why me?"

She scoffed. "It's been five years, Dad."

"Just..." 

He made a motion of drawing a blank, letting out the highest exhale he left in a while. Pulling his shit together, he straightened his back and glared long and hard at the design that hardwired to life. This was not happening.

"You listen well, Margaret Howard Stark," he spun around and bent down so that he came eye-to-eye with the ten-year-old. Margo stumbled back in surprise and Tony grappled her shoulders tightly. Way too tightly. Margo almost winced, aquamarine eyes averring in shock.

"Do you know what that is?"

She opened her mouth with a smile. "It's—"

"No," he cut in, his voice deadly serious. "No, that is not what you're thinking. That, right there? That's the end of the world."

Truly confused, Margo blinked. "Uh-huh."

"I can't save the world again, honey. I'm getting old," he placed a hand over his head. "I've got two more babies to raise. Two, Mags."

"Yeah, Dad. I know," she enunciated back to him with a nod, trying to calm him. "I can count."

"That's not all. Iron Maiden," he breathed, more pained and even more dramatic. "I have to look after your mom, Elle, who, even though is book-smart, is not anywhere near streetsmart."

"Um."

"She can't fight for shi—znickles."

"You can say shit, you know."

"Don't deflect," he grumbled. "And language. You're still fucking ten."

"Okay, Captain America, nice parenting," she rolled her eyes. "Look, it's not a big deal. It's just an android I built from, I quote, scratch for my sister."

It was Tony's turn to blink. "What."

"It all started when..."

"No, no, no," he shook his head. "No flashbacks. Get to the point."

She grumbled, shrugged. "Can't a girl be dramatic around here?"

∞