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“Isn’t he beautiful, Jarvis?”
The butler in question stepped closer to the windowsill that the young Stark was perched on and peered down at the bundle of blankets cradled in his arms with a smile.
“He is most beautiful, Master Tony,” Jarvis said, his heart softening when the boy -because despite what Tony would claim, seventeen was still a boy is his opinion- glanced up at him with proud, watery eyes.
Peter Stark had been an unexpected addition to the family, but an adored one by many. From the moment young Tony had learnt of his son’s existence he had poured over every book, studied every piece of parenting advice, and bought out almost every store with baby supplies as if it were a competition he was destined to win. The day he’d practically burst into the Jarvis household to proclaim the good news was one Edwin would never forget, much like the look of complete joy and fear and love and everything in between that had been plastered to his face as he told them. For the first time in many years, Tony Stark had found his purpose. His reason to fight.
And it came in the form of the beautiful baby boy resting peacefully in his arms.
“I could stare at him all day,” Tony murmured as he traced his thumb along the curve of Peter’s jaw adoringly. “It’s like time just… stops.”
Smiling, Jarvis leant forward slightly and watched as the baby’s nose scrunched up with a yawn, before a pair of dazed brown eyes blinked open to meet the two.
“Hey Petey,” Tony cooed, his smile widening when the baby locked onto his father with a pleased hum of his own.
“He has your eyes,” Jarvis observed warmly.
“Hm. And thankfully his mother’s nose,” Tony chuckled, bopping his finger against Peter’s undeniably cute button nose. At the action, Peter curled closer into his father’s chest, letting out a happy little coo as he did so.
“He’s truly something special, Master Tony,” Jarvis said, placing his hand over the teen’s shoulder as he added fondly “Much like somebody else that I know.”
Before Peter arrived, Tony might have scoffed. Might have brushed him away with a sarcastic remark or twisted his words into a joke of some sort. But now he only sighed, content with the world and with himself, and leant into his butler’s warm touch.
“He’s going to be the best of us… I can feel it,” Tony spoke after Peter’s eyes fluttered closed again in peace.
“With you as his father, I have no doubt.”
Glancing away from Peter for the first time since Jarvis had entered the nursery, Tony smiled up at the man with gentle, tired eyes. Eyes that were overflowing with an innocence that Jarvis once feared had been lost in his childhood, and alongside it, a love whose brightness rivalled the stars themselves. And who could blame him, when his son was one of the most precious lives to enter the Stark household in seventeen years? There were not many who could resist the charm of young Peter Stark.
All except for one.
“Tony,” Howard called from the open doorway, his voice alone shattering the once warm atmosphere.
Within seconds Tony had shifted his stance so he was standing tall instead of leaning against the windowsill, his hold tightening over Peter ever so slowly. “Dad,” Tony replied stiffly. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”
Howard stepped further into the nursery and glanced around at the painted walls and stacks of toys and vintage wooden crib that had once belonged to Tony many years ago. But where Tony looked upon the room with joy, Howard looked upon it with disappointment. With contempt. As he did with Peter, when his eyes finally returned to his son.
“I think we both know why I’m here, Tony.”
Both Tony and Jarvis’s spines went rigid, and the butler watched on with a carefully neutral mask as Tony stepped back in shock.
“You can’t take him,” he practically growled, clutching Peter closer to his chest. “We… we had an agreement.”
“Yes. And that agreement was that Mary’s son-“
“My son,” Tony cut in boldly.
Howard levelled him with an icy glare, before ploughing on as if he’d never spoken at all. “Mary’s son would be brought over for visits, so long as he lived with his mother. And I’ve just been informed by the Fitzpatrick’s that they will not be taking him in.”
“What?!” Tony cried, accidentally startling Peter from his slumber until the baby was crying in distress. On instinct, Tony spun around and began to soothe his son with gentle murmurs flooding from his mouth, appearing to Jarvis as so incredibly mature and yet undeniably young all the same.
“I need to call Mary,” Tony said over his shoulder as he continued to rock Peter from side to side. “There… there must be a mistake.”
“No mistake Tony,” Howard replied shortly. “Her family doesn’t want it.”
“Don’t call him that,” Tony snarled, forcing his voice to remain quiet so that the baby wouldn’t stir again. “His name is Peter, and he’s my son as much as he is hers. I don’t care what the Fitzpatrick’s want.”
“Well I’m sorry to tell you, but we don’t want him either.”
“I want him,” Tony said, voice strangely powerful coming from the seventeen-year-old as he turned to face his father again with his chin raised high. “I want him, and I don’t care what anyone else wants. Not her. Not the media. And certain not fucking you.”
Like a switch had been flipped, Howard removed his hands from his pockets and squared his shoulders, the authority drawing into his presence like a magnet until Tony looked like a cowering child beneath his father’s stare. Jarvis clenched his hands into fists behind his back, hoping- begging that Howard wouldn’t repeat the past on a new generation. He promised himself that he wouldn’t stand by this time. That if Howard laid a hand on Tony or Peter, he would intervene, loyalty be damned.
So Jarvis watched carefully as Howard stepped closer to his son, Tony twisting his torso until Peter was shielded from view and from reach with his upper lip twitching into a snarl. A warning. A threat.
But after levelling the teen with one final glare, Howard said sharply “We’ve let this go on long enough Tony. It’s time to end this.”
“Over my dead body,” Tony hissed.
“Don’t make this anymore difficult then it has to be.”
“You can’t take him away from me. He’s my kid- mine!”
“The sooner you let go the sooner you’ll forget about all of this.”
“No!” Tony cried, stumbling back into the wall and not even aware of Peter’s terrified whimpering below as he stammered “I don’t want to forget! Don’t- don’t fucking touch him!”
“Enough!” Howard snapped before edging dangerously close to the pair.
It was as if Jarvis could see everything happening in slow motion. Could see the tension coiling up in Tony’s shoulders and the reach of Howard’s hand and the tears flooding down Peter’s soft cheeks. What was about to happen could only end in disaster, so like all good butlers did, he stopped it.
“Jarvis.”
Edwin flinched instinctively at Howard’s cold tone, lifting his eyes slowly until he was face to face with his master, Tony’s panicked breaths hot on his back as he placed himself as a barrier between the fiery Starks. He knew he would get in major trouble for this. Possibly even fired, if Howard was angry enough. But he couldn’t just stand by anymore. He had to try and help, in whatever capacity he could.
“Sir… if I may,” Jarvis started softly, carefully. “Perhaps the transition would be… easier, if Master Tony were allowed one more night with young Peter.”
“He’s already too attached as it is. It never should have gone this far,” Howard snapped.
Jarvis could practically feel Tony’s hackles rising behind him, but he quickly replied, “It is impossible to rewrite the past Sir, but we can ensure the future to be far kinder on all parties, if you would grant them so.”
Sharp brown eyes bore into steady blue ones, and Jarvis didn’t let any emotion slip past his well-crafted mask as his master stared him down. For a moment, the nursery was so deathly still that he could almost hear Tony’s heartbeat hammering like a war drum just behind him. Everyone was holding their breath. Waiting… Waiting…
And then finally-
“Fine,” Howard scowled, turning on his heel and storming for the door as he yelled back harshly “I want bags packed and ready to go by the morning!”
The door slammed shut with a resounding thud throughout the air, adrenaline still pounding through Jarvis’s veins as he released a shaky sigh of relief. Everything felt a little too surreal right now. Like he was in a dream -or maybe a nightmare- that was holding his mind hostage. But then, drawing him back to the present, he felt something press against his shoulder blades and a hand clutch onto the back of his jacket in a desperate hold.
“Please don’t take him from me,” Tony whispered, voice breaking like fragile glass. “Please Jarvis, don’t take him… I’d do anything- anything… please…”
And I would do anything for you, Master Tony…
Inhaling sharply, Jarvis hardened his resolve from the overwhelming panic moments ago and said evenly “I cannot disobey your father’s orders, Master Tony. It would be wise to pack young Peter’s necessities now.”
An agonised cry became muffled into his back, and it took all of Jarvis’s will power not to break down right then and there. But he had to be strong. For Tony, and for Peter. So he held the tears away and urged Tony into the nearby rocking chair to unwind, to hold his son close and stroke his head and sing him lullabies in Italian like Maria once did for him. Tony couldn’t do so without tears slipping out in an almost constant stream, but he always smiled when Peter looked up at him, unaware. Unknowing as to what their future would become.
And while Tony sat in the corner and wrapped Peter in his everlasting love, Jarvis got to work dragging out a suitcase and packing all of the newly ironed baby suits and clothes into neat piles. After throwing in all the basics, he got Tony’s approval on which toys and books to pack and tried not to notice the way the teen’s breath hitched every time he asked. Because if he acknowledged the tears in Tony’s eyes or the sobs in his throat as he whispered his son’s name, Jarvis wasn’t sure he would have the strength to not crack under the pressure. Of the devastation that weighed in the air.
And still Jarvis worked, and worked, and worked. Like a bee buzzing around the hive, Jarvis darted throughout the mansion to make sure everything was prepared, leaving father and son alone to revel in each other’s presence.
The sun had long since set when Jarvis finally sealed the two suitcases closed and approached the pair in the rocking chair. Tony had fallen asleep almost two hours ago with his son still clutched tightly in his arms, protective even in slumber. He would make an amazing father. Jarvis could tell simply from the way Tony looked upon Peter with such care and joy and love in every waking moment, and there was not a single doubt in his mind that Tony would give his son the world, Stark title be damned.
So that’s why Jarvis gently shook the teen’s shoulder until Tony jolted awake with a gasp. His hands naturally pulled Peter closer, protective but not too tight, and whipped his head around to face the butler with wide, fearful eyes.
“It’s… It’s not morning yet,” he rasped, his voice wavering on a plea.
“I know.”
“B-But he said I’d get till the morn-“
“Please come with me, Master Tony,” Jarvis cut him off softly. “I have taken care of everything, I promise.”
Desperate brown eyes blinked up at the man, searching for help. Begging for it.
“The car is waiting,” Jarvis stated evenly.
Slowly, heartbreakingly, Tony’s shoulders sagged in defeat. Jarvis had always been Tony’s safety net, his most trusted confidant. For Jarvis not to fight meant there was little chance of Tony winning against his father’s wrath, and he couldn’t afford for Peter to get hurt in the midst of one of their arguments. He’d experienced that too much in his own childhood, and he would never allow it to infect his son’s childhood as well.
That’s why Tony didn’t resist Jarvis’s gentle touch on his back leading him out of the mansion. Didn’t notice the dead silent hallways or careful way that Jarvis carried the suitcases off the ground. Didn’t ask why there were two suitcases, or why Jarvis didn’t turn on the headlights as they climbed into the car. Tony was too despondent with the thought of losing son, that he didn’t even think to ask where they were going until they were well away enough from the Stark Mansion on a road he couldn’t even recognise.
“Jarvis?” Tony spoke up cautiously. “What are you doing?”
The butler’s steely blue eyes didn’t leave the road ahead of them, his lips set into a thin line and his hands clutched fiercely onto the steering wheel. “I followed your father’s order,” he answered stiffly. “I packed young Peter’s bags before morning…”
“Right… so what are we doing now then?” Tony pressed as something flickered in his chest. Something bright, something like hope.
“Nothing that is against your father’s orders…”
“That’s oddly cryptic for you Jarvis.”
The man clenched his jaw, thoughts racing past his eyes like lightning through the sky. And then softly, almost in a whisper, he stated “Your father never said anything about when he would have to leave… or where to…”
Tony’s heartrate picked up to an alarming speed. In fear or in excitement, he couldn’t quite tell. “Where are we going, Jarvis?”
For the first time in hours, Jarvis’s lips tilted up into the faintest of smiles. “I called your college friend, James, and he kindly offered you and young Peter shelter tonight at his grandmother’s house.”
“You… you what?” Tony stammered, lost in complete and utter shock.
“We will be meeting up with James shortly so he can drive you to her property, Master Tony,” Jarvis explained gently. “There, you and young Peter can remain together, undisturbed by your father’s wishes.”
With tears burning at the back of his eyes, Tony glanced over at the backseat where the two suitcases were lying and asked tremulously “And… And the two suitcases…?”
“For you and young Peter.”
“Oh my god,” Tony whispered, before dragging a hand anxiously through his hair. “And- and Rhodey he’s… he’s definitely okay with this?”
“Completely. He ensured me he wanted to help the both of you, and that he would not tell anyone of your whereabouts,” Jarvis assured, before adding on softly “Just as I will not tell either.”
Barking out a watery laugh, Tony pressed a hand to his eyes and allowed the cries to tear through him once again. Except this time instead of devastation, it was born out of relief.
“You… you did all of this… for me?”
Shooting an adoring glance at both father and son, Jarvis answered “Master Peter is quite persuasive, I’m afraid.”
Tony let out another shaky chuckle as he gazed down at his sleeping son and murmured “Yeah… yeah he sure is…”
Finally starting to ease up, Jarvis smiled at the pair and relaxed his grip on the steering wheel. They were far away from the Stark mansion now, and even if Jarvis was caught, even if he got fired tomorrow morning, he knew this was worth it. Seeing Tony and Peter together was like watching the stars rise with the moon. They were inseparable, locked in a beautiful harmony with each other. He couldn’t bear to watch them be torn apart.
“Thank you Jarvis…” Tony said, a tear sliding down his grinning cheeks as he added “You have no idea how much this means to me… to us…”
“You’re very welcome Master Tony,” Jarvis replied kindly. “Just promise me that you will take care of yourself and young Peter, and I will rest well all my life.”
“I will, I swear. I’ll be the best father for Peter, just you wait,” he stated proudly.
“Oh Tony…”
The Stark shot him a puzzled look, only for Jarvis to face him again with the same rush of emotions that Tony stared at Peter with.
“You already are.”
For just a moment, the two shared a glance that spoke a thousand words. Words of love and encouragement and faith. Words that would stick with Tony many decades into the future, and with Jarvis long into retirement.
When they finally arrived at the meetup point on the side of the road with one James Rhodes, their goodbye was brief. A tight embrace and a final promise on Tony’s part. “I’ll never forget this,” he’d whispered into Jarvis’s shoulder, grip still tight on Peter who had roused from his slumber amongst James transferring the suitcases to his own beat-up Ford. Like one final gift from above, Tony shifted the stirring boy into Jarvis’s arms and allowed him one last chance to hold him. To hold this precious baby that had given his master so much heart, and compassion, and purpose. Peter only gazed up with him with those big, gleaming eyes, but somewhere deep down, Jarvis thought he understood who he was, and how even though their meeting was short, how much he loved him. Both of them.
But then it was time to go, and Jarvis watched as Tony, his son in so many ways, buckled into the front seat with his own child wrapped safely in his embrace. Tony smiled, a free and joyous smile, and then the car turned out of the range of the headlights, covering their faces in shadows. The car took off down the road, and Jarvis waited until they were completely out of view before climbing into his own car and crying into the steering wheel instead.
Thoughts of Tony and Peter would stay with Jarvis long into the future.
Past the investigation into the missing Starks’ whereabouts that lead only to dead ends. Past the many birthday anniversaries that ticked by every year. Past the day his wife Ana fell asleep only to never wake up again. They stayed with him, in his memories, in his heart.
And one day, as he strolled through a quiet park in Queens on one of his many expeditions through the city, he would cross paths with a young boy with chestnut curls and a wide, beaming grin. The boy had lost his frisbee in a nearby branch that was just a little too tall for the tyke to reach, and Jarvis -though well past his golden days- was able to drag it down for him with a kind smile.
“Thank you so much, Mister!” the boy exclaimed excitedly.
“You’re very welcome young man,” Jarvis replied, only to feel his chest throb a moment later when he noticed a sticker against the boy’s knitted sweater with a name written in fine scrawl.
“Peter... That’s a lovely name,” he said fondly.
“Oh… thank you!” the boy grinned, noticing the tag still left of his chest and glancing up to ask, “What’s your name Mister?”
“Jarvis. Edwin Jarvis.”
“Oh cool! I’ve never met someone with the same name as me!”
It felt like Jarvis’s heart skipped a beat, which was not a great sign for someone with as old as he was, only for it to pound twice as fast as he asked “You… you have the same name?”
“Oh yeah! It’s my middle name,” Peter announced proudly. “Peter Edwin Parker. My dad says I was named after my Nonno.”
“Is that so?” Jarvis said, his voice shaking with tears that burnt at the back of his old, blurry eyes.
“Yeah. It’s pretty cool-“ Peter’s words were cut off abruptly as he noticed something past Jarvis’s shoulder, his curiosity immediately melting into another gut-wrenchingly familiar smile as he called “Oh, hi Dad!”
Slowly, Jarvis turned around, and felt his heart practically burst out of his chest at the sight of Tony. His Tony. His precious little Master, alive and well and an adult no less. But even with his broad shoulders and finely trimmed beard, his eyes shone just as brightly, just as soft and familiar as they had been from the moment they first locked eyes when Tony was only a baby himself.
Unbeknownst to Jarvis, the tears had startled to trickle down his wrinkled cheeks as his heart did flips inside his ribcage. And judging by the wide-eyed stare and slight gape of the young man’s mouth, he wasn’t the only one hit with sudden realisation.
“Jarvis?” he breathed out, deep and smooth but just as shaky as that same seventeen-year-old all those years ago.
Jarvis stepped forward cautiously, at a loss for words, before the man was struck out of his stupor and lunged forward with a choked off cry of joy. “Jarvis, Jarvis, Jarvis,” he muttered fiercely, his embrace almost bone-crushing if not for the adrenaline pumping through the elder’s veins.
With shaking hands, Jarvis coiled his arms around the man’s shuddering shoulders like he had that night on the side of the road, and closed his eyes with a sigh of relief.
“Master Tony…”
“Oh god…” Tony sobbed out, the smile clear in his voice as he stuttered “I-I kept my promise, just like you- just like you asked… I promise…”
Smiling into the man’s shoulder, the same man that had once been his kid, Jarvis celebrated his decision all those years ago to keep father and son together. To give Tony and Peter the life that they deserved, where they were together, and they were happy. A life that Jarvis wished he could have given to Tony himself, but was glad that Peter had been graced with if nothing else.
“You are a great father, Tony. Just like I knew you would be.”
Arms squeezing just a little bit tighter around his back, Tony chuckled warmly “Well… I had a pretty good role model, didn’t I…?”