Chapter Text
Pepper froze as the elevator doors slid open, revealing the penthouse. When she reluctantly stepped inside, it felt like stepping back in time— but not in the oppressing way it had the night before. Because tonight, their old Christmas-tree stood in its familiar corner, bursting with all the decorations it could carry. Every ornament was a story, a memory. The lopsided crafts her kids had made were hanging proudly next to the elegant or outright tacky decorations she and Tony had collected on their many travels. An Eiffel Tower from Paris. The Manneken Pis from Brussels. A delicate dragon from Beijing. A tiny Formula 1 car from Monaco. And, of course, the sparkly pizza slice from Rome that had made Tony laugh until his sides hurt. At the tree's tip, the star drooped to the left, just shy of falling as it always had, and colorful lights blinked a lively rhythm.
Christmas music filled the room and the fireplace crackled softly, warming up the space with its golden streaks. Morgan's Playmobil— the one that looked like it was screaming for help the day before— was now sitting on the coffee table next to a plate filled with crumbs and a single half-eaten cookie. Pepper walked slowly to the tree, throwing her clutch on the armchair next to it, and soaked everything in. Her fingers reached for the sparkly pizza slice, almost instinctively, and she gave it a gentle push, watching it dangle and gleam as it caught the blinking Christmas lights.
Yesterday, the place had felt frozen in the moment they'd abandoned it— heavy with silence, cold and unwelcoming. But now… now it was alive, radiating warmth. Pulling her back to better days and filling her mouth with a bittersweet taste of burnt sugar, stale cinnamon, and clove.
“You always loved that pizza ornament,” came Tony’s voice from somewhere behind her, low and steady.
Pepper startled, her hand flying to her chest. She turned to find him approaching from the kitchen, dressed in a smart suit for whatever reason and with a glass of whiskey in hand.
“No, Tony. I loved the hand-painted porcelain Christmas ball we found in that little shop in Trastevere. You loved the pizza slice,” Pepper said with a sigh, turning her back to the tree. “I’ll go check on the kids.”
“They’re in our room,” Tony told her as she walked to the hallway.
“Our old room, Tony,” she mumbled in a half-hearted correction, mostly to herself.
Pepper stepped into the bedroom, her eyes immediately locking onto the kids. At first glance, they seemed half-asleep, but there was something off. She walked closer, standing right above them, noting how their bodies were too rigid, their breathing not as smooth and steady as it should be in sleep. Something didn’t feel right. Her brow furrowed as she scanned them, looking for any sign of fever or distress, but neither of them looked particularly pale or unwell.
She reached out and gently brushed her fingers over Morgan’s forehead, her pulse easing slightly when she felt cool skin. No fever. That was a relief… but something still wasn’t adding up.
Harley stirred, and his eyes flickered to hers, then, without warning, he shot out of bed and bolted straight for the bathroom. Pepper winced at the familiar sounds of throwing up, then Harley's groan and the flush of the toilet. Water running. A moment later, Harley emerged, his face wet, a few soaked strands sticking to the sides of his face. It was then that Pepper noticed he had a suit on, too. Her son. In a suit that she didn't force him to wear. She blinked, watching him flopping back onto the bed, covering his eyes with his arm.
“How are you, Harlbug?” she asked softly, her concern somewhat tamed now that she could see that whatever this was, it wasn't as serious as she'd feared.
“How do you think?” he grumbled, his voice thick with sarcasm. “Just what I needed. As if this Christmas didn’t suck enough already.” His eyes flicked toward Morgan, who was curled up with her back turned to them, eyes closed. “I swear, Morgan should come with a warning label: ‘I may infect all nearby individuals with whatever plague I’m carrying.’”
“I’m sorry you feel so poorly, honey. Lay back down, I’m here now,” she said quietly, her hand brushing through his hair, feeling his forehead while at it. Something about the whole scene didn’t feel right, but she let it slide. Even if these two were pretending just to get her here, she could understand it. It was the first holiday they'd had apart. She knew it would be hard. On all of them.
“I think it would be best if I took you two home,” she suggested after a pause, her voice soft but resolute.
Harley groaned as though her suggestion was the worst possible thing she could have said. “No, Mom. Seriously, you can’t. I can’t even lie down without feeling like I’m gonna hurl, and you want me in a moving car? Plus, it’s snowing like the world’s about to end.”
“You’re not wrong about that one,” she said with a quiet exhale, shaking her head. His tone was miserable, and the argument he made, though exaggerated, was sound enough that Pepper couldn’t help but sigh. She looked down at her son with a mixture of frustration and concern. She wasn’t buying all of it, but with the way this night had evolved, there was little to be done.
“So… is Dick all pissed off that you bailed?” Harley asked, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. Pepper gave him her best stern look, but it didn’t quite have the intended effect. It was hard to muster authority when her thoughts were spinning, and her heart wasn’t exactly in it.
“ Richard , Harley. The name is Richard ,” she corrected. “And no. You don’t need to worry about that.”
“Worry? Mom, c’mon! I low-key wish he—” Harley started, but caught himself mid-sentence. He shook his head and quickly shut his mouth, deflecting with a half-hearted grin. “Never mind. Hope we didn’t totally wreck your night.”
Pepper raised an eyebrow at his sudden change of heart, but she wasn’t about to call him out on it. "You didn’t.”
She hadn’t really decided how she felt about Richard bailing on her tonight, of all nights. It was like a heavy weight hanging over her— knowing what he planned. It almost felt like he’d been having second thoughts. Just like her. Maybe it was for the best. In a twisted kind of way.
“Scoot over,” she finally said. “I’ll lay down here with you two.”
Harley’s eyes went wide, his face screwing up in exaggerated horror. “What? No! No way in hell! It’s bad enough I’m stuck sharing a bed with the little germ factory, I’m not sharing with you, too. Ew. Go! Shoo! I’ll keep an eye on Morgan and call you if we need anything.”
Pepper gave him a long look, but was too mentally spent to fight him on it. With a sigh, she stood and glanced at the bottles of water Tony had thoughtfully brought for the kids. “Fine, I’ll check on you two again in half an hour. Try to sip a little water." At that, her eyes locked with his knowingly, and she added pointedly, "see if you can keep it down, okay? And call me if Morgan wakes up .”
She reached down, ruffling Harley’s blond hair before giving Morgan one last glance. Without another word, she made her way out of the room, avoiding looking at anything other than her own feet— too many memories looming, ready to pull her in.
As she rounded the corner into the living room, she found Tony sitting on the couch, his eyes fixed on the fire. A glass of whiskey still sat untouched in his hand, the amber liquid reflecting the glow of the flames. There was a second glass set on the table.
He turned as she approached, gaze shifting to meet hers. “Made you a drink. No Martini in the house, so you’re gonna have to do with some leftover Scotch.”
“Thanks,” Pepper answered quietly and moved to sit on the other side of the couch, far enough from him to make her stomach churn. She still hadn’t gotten used to the physical distance between them.
“How are the Gremlins?”
Pepper shook her head, pursing her lips as she processed the situation. “Better than I thought they’d be. But Harley won’t hear of driving back home.”
“I don’t think you’d be able to drive home anyway,” Tony said, pointing to the window-wall, where the snowstorm outside raged relentlessly. “It’s a miracle you managed to get here.”
Pepper nodded, a small frown crossing her face. “Had I wasted five more minutes, I might not have made it.” Her voice softened. “It’s really coming down heavy.”
Tony didn’t say anything at first, before a soft, distant smile tugged at his lips. “Reminds me of the blizzard a few days before Morgan was born.”
The words hit Pepper unexpectedly, and before she knew it, she was up on her feet— a physical reflex to the memory he had just cracked open. She moved to the window, looking out into the wild, swirling snow, hand instinctively settling on her stomach.
“I was so freaked out we’d be snowed in, and Helen wasn’t in the Tower,” she recalled softly, fingers absently caressing the spot where her cesarean scar had healed. It felt like a lifetime ago. It felt like yesterday.
Tony moved beside her, standing close but not quite touching. A short glance in his direction revealed the small smile tugging at his lips. “I would’ve flown her in with the Quinjet if it came to that.”
“Yeah, well, if you ever find yourself 40 weeks pregnant, we can revisit this discussion. And then you’ll recognize the reason why that didn’t ease my nerves in the slightest." She turned to face him, really seeing him for the first time in a while. The lines around his mouth. The creases at the corners of his eyes. Those familiar, warm brown eyes— just like Peter’s, just like Morgan’s.
“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, you know. For them,” he said quietly.
The words were a painful twist in her heart, and she tightened her grip around her glass. She took a sip, the heat of the scotch pooling below her chest— and when she spoke, her words dripped with bitterness. Not that she cared. “There was one thing you didn’t do.”
Tony’s whole face tightened at her words, his expression hardening. “Yeah, well,” he began, his voice a little sharper now as he swirled the liquid in his glass. “It’s not like I was clocking in at a nine-to-five and skipping Lamaze class for happy hour.”
Pepper shot him a sharp look, but Tony wasn’t done. “Saving the world, Peps. Kind of a full-time gig. And if I didn’t step up, who was going to? You think Fury was gonna strap on a suit and play hero? Capsicle, Rhodey, and Sam couldn’t be everywhere at once, Clint was playing farm-boy more often than not, Natasha could only do so much alone, Thor is based in another realm, and Banner— well, in between his calming teas and yoga classes, if he decided to ‘green up,’ he’d vaporize half the city.”
He let out a short, humorless laugh and shook his head. “Look, I know I wasn’t perfect. I know that. But it’s not like I could just call in sick when Thanos decided to drop by, or ask for PTO to ‘spend more time with the family.’”
“I never expected you to turn your back on the world, Tony,” she said, her voice rising now, the words coming faster, the hurt spilling over. “I simply expected you to be more present. To be there. For me. For them.”
“You think I didn’t want to be there? To be with you, with the kids? Of course I did. But while you were focusing on them, it was my job to make sure there was still a world for them to grow up in.” Tony’s voice was filled with familiar defensiveness at the words.
"Oh don’t you dare throw that in my face!” Her heart thudded painfully against her ribs as she fought the urge to shower him and his martyrdom with the scotch in her hands. “Because while you were making sure there was a world left for them to grow up in, I was barely hanging on, trying to ensure they actually grew up !” She let out a bitter laugh that carried years of resentment, exhaustion, and pain. “Feeding, caring, teaching, potty-training, birthdays, parent-meetings, playing Dad and Mom at the same time… All the while working like I wasn’t a single parent to keep SI afloat to fund your hero-journey, our life, and their college funds!"
Her voice cracked, but she pushed through, words spilling out in a rush— cutting and fiery. “You think you had to make sacrifices? Well, so did I, Tony. Every single day, I had to explain why Mom was an anxious mess, why Dad wasn’t coming home for dinner. Why Morgan’s tea parties didn’t matter enough for you to stick around. Why Harley had to learn to tie a tie for school pictures from YouTube, because you weren't there and I didn’t have the time to show him between board meetings and making sure Peter didn’t blow the Tower up with his experiments!”
Her chest heaved as she paused, gripping her glass so tightly she thought it might shatter. “And you know what’s funny?” She let out a hollow, humorless chuckle. “I understood. I understood. Because you’re Tony Stark. You’re Iron Man. The guy who has to fix everything, save everyone.” She paused, there, trying to keep her voice from breaking. “But what about us, Tony? Who was going to save us?”
The air around them thickened, stilled, and she couldn't look at him anymore. Silence strangled the room for several seconds, before Tony's voice broke it, sounding broken himself.
“Could I have done it differently? Maybe. Could I have been better? Absolutely. But know that everything I ever did was fueled by love for this family, for you, for our kids. And ironically, out of fear of failing you all.” Tony paused, fiddling with his glass, his eyes closing briefly. “I’ve been trying to save everyone else for so long, I didn’t even realize we needed saving, too.”
Pepper felt like she couldn't breathe. She stood there, staring at the raging snowstorm, blinking back tears. Tony's reflection in the glass stared at her with that vulnerability in his eyes, the one he reserved for her and her alone. The one that undid her. Each and every time.
She didn’t know what to do with the emotions crashing through her. She didn’t know if she wanted to scream at him, to slap him for all the years of pain and sacrifice, or to pull him close, bury her face in his chest, and never let go.
“I can’t do this right now,” she whispered— and, without another word, rushed out of the room.
“That doesn’t sound like they’re making up, Harley,” Morgan whispered sadly.
Harley swallowed hard, eyes locked on the ceiling, avoiding the sinking feeling in his gut. No, Morgan was right. It didn’t sound like they were making up, not by a long shot. But he couldn’t tell her that. “It’s fine, Mo,” he reassured, voice coming out too calm, too forced. “They’re just getting all the negative stuff out of their system. They’ll make up in the end, don’t worry.”
Morgan didn’t say anything at first, but then her voice came again, even quieter than before. “Reminds me of how they used to fight before the divorce.”
Harley’s stomach twisted into a knot at the words— a feeling he really didn’t want to deal with at the moment. He let out a slow breath and pulled his sister close, squeezing her, as if that could keep all the bad thoughts— all the bad memories— out of her head. His heart was racing, brain spinning with doubts. What if their plan didn’t work? What if this whole mess was well past any sort of mending?
“It’s not Christmas yet,” he said, the words sounding weak even to his own ears. “You asked Santa, right? I’m sure his magic kicks in around midnight.” He pressed his cheek against her head, breathing in the smell of strawberry and smoke.
“What time is it now?” she asked, her voice small.
Harley didn’t want to check. He didn’t want to face the fact that time was slipping away, but he reached for his phone anyway, trying to push down the lump that had settled in his throat.
“9 PM,” he responded quietly. He glanced at the text from Peter, trying to focus on that instead of the yelling in the other room. “Peter’s making good progress with Fri,” he added, forcing a reassuring smile into his voice. “Even if they don’t make up tonight, we’ll keep them in here till they do, alright?”
He winced as the fight in the other room hit a new peak, his fingers tapping out a quick update to Peter. But then, the sound of heels— fast and heavy— made his heart skip a beat. “Shit, Mom’s coming. Play possum!”
Harley shoved the phone under his pillow, his eyes wide as he turned his back to Morgan. He lay still, forcing himself to breathe slowly, praying Morgan would do the same. His stomach twisted when he heard Mom’s breath catch, followed by the soft sniffles he knew so well. It was hard, so hard to focus on staying perfectly still with that sound cutting through him, but he did his best. He needed to pretend to be asleep better than he had the first time Mom walked in.
He kept his eyes shut, not daring to look at her, but straining his ears. He could hear her movement— soft clicks as her heels came off, the faint squeak of the bed when she sat down, the mattress dipping a little as she scooted toward them, settling between him and Morgan. The warmth of her body reached him before the sweet scent of her rose perfume did. Damn it, what now? If she stayed here, their plan would fall apart. They couldn’t lock them in here alone. If she stayed here, no chance she’d be out there with Dad, making up. Shit-shit-shit-shit! He needed to think, he had to—
Then a slapping sound broke through his thoughts, the soft thwack of something smacking flesh. It happened again, and Mom muttered a quiet “Jesus.” The mattress trembled slightly, and Harley felt a smile of pride tugging at his lips despite the mess they were in. Morgan had figured it out. He followed his sister's lead, jolting slightly, kicking Mom’s ankle under the covers, then flopping his hand down onto her forehead, still feigning being fast asleep.
Mom’s frustrated “for God’s sake” preceded her scooting right off the bed. He kept his eyes squeezed shut and his breath steady, even though it felt like her gaze was burning a hole through both him and Morgan. To his relief, she let out a huff and left the room.
He cracked one eye open, and his heart sank when he saw her heading for the other bedrooms, not back toward the living room like he hoped. Panic flared in his chest, and his mind scrambled, trying to figure out how to keep things on track.
Grabbing his phone, he typed out a message to Peter in a hurry:
‘Emergency: Kill heating in all rooms except for Mom’s and Dad’s old bedroom and living room. Lower the temp to freezing for the rest of the penthouse.’
He stared at the screen, biting his lip, as Morgan sat up next to him, peering over his shoulder at the text. They waited, the minutes stretching. Finally, the reply came through.
‘Done.’
Tony was on his second glass of Scotch when he glanced at the clock above the fireplace. Ten o’clock. One grueling hour of replaying every word exchanged between him and Pepper. One hour of serious contemplation of smashing his head through a wall, which would be arguably easier than even attempting to fix him and Pepper.
Then came the sound of quick, frustrated steps, and Tony turned, half-expecting Harley. But it wasn’t his son. It was Pepper, walking into the room with a quilt draped over her shoulders like she was some kind of royalty. The X-Men design wasn't exactly the look one would expect for a queen, but somehow she still managed to look breathtakingly regal. Her face was taut with tension, the kind he knew all too well, and he wisely kept his mouth shut.
“The bedrooms are freezing,” she said, her voice clipped. "All of them except our old one, thankfully. I just checked on the kids. The rest of the house is like an icebox.”
Tony’s brow furrowed at the news. That didn’t make sense. “FRI, what’s going on with the heat?” he demanded.
“Systemic malfunction, Boss. Working to fix it and will update you."
Tony scoffed. “
Systemic malfunction
?” The disbelief practically dripped from his words. Systemic malfunction in a building designed by him to survive anything from natural disasters to alien invasions? The Tower wasn’t just a fortress. It was the pinnacle of smart architecture. The damn thing should’ve been able to predict a malfunction before it even happened.
“The blizzard is causing intermittent power surges in the secondary grid. It’s creating conflicting commands between the heating zones. I’ve isolated the issue to a feedback loop in the temperature control systems.”
Tony raised an eyebrow. “Feedback loop?” He repeated the words slowly, replaying FRI's answer in his mind. The words made sense individually, but not put together like that. Was FRI malfunctioning too? "Then why are some of the rooms fine?”
“The extreme conditions outside, combined with the isolated settings, are amplifying the glitch.”
“Amplifying the glitch.” Tony let the words hang in the air, still disbelieving.
“Yes, Boss. I’ve prioritized keeping the heat in the living area and the room Morgan and Harley are. I’m working on a temporary override to stabilize temperatures. ETA is approximately… 55 minutes.”
Tony frowned but he didn’t have the energy to look into it any further right now. “Make it faster, FRI. And keep me posted.”
“Of course, Boss.”
Just perfect. He let his head fall back against the couch. Things weren’t looking up— the night seemed to only be getting worse.
Pepper’s voice broke through the haze, her tone wrapped in cold frustration, seemingly echoing his own thoughts. “This day is just going…” she trailed off as she pulled the quilt tighter around her shoulders, shuffling in front of the fireplace.
"So… uh, did you get a hold of Richard?" Tony asked, hesitating just a bit. It wasn’t exactly a safe topic, but after everything that had gone down, the quiet in the room felt worse than discussing his ex-wife's new boyfriend. Plus he was sensing something was off there. Or maybe just hoped it was.
Pepper’s scowl deepened. "No. But maybe it's best that I didn’t."
Tony felt a jolt go through him like an electric shock. He swallowed hard before setting his glass down on the coffee table. His eyes tracked the back of her head, the delicate line of her neck, just barely visible as her slightly disheveled updo fell out of place, strands of hair escaping the tight knot.
“Does that mean you said—” he started, but the words caught in his throat.
“I didn’t say anything because he hasn’t asked yet," she snapped. There was a beat of silence before she continued, “I thought he planned to do it tonight, but honestly…”
Tony’s heart was thundering in his chest. “You’re having second thoughts?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady and casual, but failing miserably. Subtlety had never been his strong suit.
“I don’t know what I’m having,” she snapped yet again, but Tony knew her every tell. He could decipher every tiny edge in her voice, every subtle move of her hands. She was having second thoughts. He fought the urge to smile and kept his expression locked in neutral, though hope was clawing its way up his chest.
“The kids really don’t like him,” Pepper went on, her voice softening the tiniest bit. That’s an understatement , Tony thought, though wisely stayed silent. “And he’s way out of his depth with them, too. And…”
“And you don’t love him,” Tony said knowingly. It wasn’t a question. His stomach clenched as he watched her turn and grab her glass from earlier, downing half of it in one go.
“That’s hardly an issue,” she said hoarsely.
“Sorry, what?”
“That’s hardly an issue, Tony. I love you, and look where we are…”
The world seemed to tilt on its axis for a second. Tony froze, gaping at her, and noticed the way she tensed too, shoulders stiffening as if she’d just realized what she’d let slip.
“You love me?” he asked, the words tumbling out before he could stop them.
“I didn’t mean—”
“But you said—”
“I care for you—”
“That’s not what you said—”
“What I meant is…” Pepper trailed off, looking up at the ceiling as if it held the answers she didn’t have.
Tony waited, holding his breath. When she didn’t finish, he leaned forward slightly, prompting her with a gentle, “Yes?”
“That… That I…” She didn’t finish, but she didn’t need to.
Tony didn’t think, didn’t hesitate. He shot to his feet like a rocket. “I love you too, Peps.”
Her head snapped toward him, eyes narrowing, her expression somewhere between exasperated and panicked. “Tony… stop being so…”
“So what?”
“So insufferably persistent and childish! We’re not teenagers," she snapped. “I… Of course I love you! I’ve spent almost half my life with you! You’re the father of my children, my biggest love— my biggest mistake, too, so don’t you go looking at me like that. But that doesn’t change the fact that… we’re here. Divorced. In pain. With three kids suffering along with us. Love is not the only thing that matters, Tony. Love alone doesn’t equal a healthy marriage.”
“Maybe not,” Tony countered, his voice steady now, his eyes locked on hers. “But lack of love definitely equals an unhealthy one.”
Pepper’s jaw tightened, and she drained the rest of her Scotch in one swift motion, wincing as she set the glass on the table.
Tony walked up to her cautiously. His hand reached out, fingers brushing against hers, where they were clenched tightly around the edges of Peter’s old quilt, gathered on her sternum. The second their hands met, he felt her resistance falter. Her fist relaxed, and the quilt slipped from her grip, sliding off her shoulders and pooling around her feet.
“Tony, we can’t,” she whispered, her voice cracking.
“Why not?” he asked softly, leaning in just enough that their breaths mingled. His nose brushed against hers, and it took every ounce of willpower he had not to close the gap completely. The pull toward her was magnetic, unstoppable.
“Because I don’t know if—” she began, but Tony cut her off, gently pressing a finger to her lips.
“I know you don’t,” he said, his voice low and calm. “I’m not asking for promises. You said it yourself— we’re not teenagers. I’m not asking you to make up your mind about anything here and now. I’m only asking for this. For tonight.”
Pepper didn’t reply. Instead, she stared into his eyes for a few long seconds, her breath uneven, as though making up her mind. And then she leaned in and kissed him.
The moment their lips met, it felt like the world fell away. The familiarity of her taste, the warmth of her skin, the way she tilted her head just so— it all came rushing back. Tony exhaled sharply, his hands finding her waist as he pulled her closer, letting himself drown in the feeling of her, in the memories, in everything they used to be.
In everything he dared to hope they might be again.
It was well past midnight when Harley finally dared to creep out into the hallway. Mom had popped in to check on him and Morgan twice— once around ten and again a little after eleven. Since then, nothing. The yelling had stopped and no sounds could reach them from the living room. Were they still mad? Giving each other the silent treatment? Or, best-case scenario, asleep? God, let them be asleep . Preferably as soundly as Morgan, who’d been lightly snoring for over an hour, sprawled across her side of the bed like a starfish.
Harley's brow furrowed upon noticing the door to the living room closed. He reluctantly approached it and pressed his ear on the wood, but couldn't hear anything. He drew in a breath before reaching for the knob and turning it slowly, taking care not to make even the tiniest of sounds. He pushed enough to create a crack to peek through.
His heart skipped a beat at what he saw.
There they were, curled up on the couch like it was the ending of some cheesy rom-com. Mom was lying on Dad’s chest, her head nestled under his chin, his arms wrapped tightly around her. Peter’s old X-Men quilt was draped over them, and both of them looked completely, blissfully knocked out. Peaceful in a way Harley couldn’t remember seeing in a long time.
Harley took it all in, his stomach loosening just a little from the knot it had been in all night. “Jolly red, dude,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head with a faint smile, “you’re making me reconsider.”
But then his gaze drifted lower, and the smirk vanished in an instant. Mom’s dress was in a crumpled heap behind the couch, and Dad’s blazer, shirt, and tie were strewn haphazardly over the armchair by the fireplace, like they’d been thrown there in a hurry.
Harley could feel his face twisting in embarrassed discomfort, his hands flying up to cover his face as he took several steps back, whispering in a pained voice, “My eyes, my eyes, my eyes.”
He backed away as quickly— and quietly— as he could, back into the bedroom. Once inside, he made a beeline for Morgan’s side of the bed and gently shook her shoulder.
“Morgan,” he whispered.
She blinked up at him, groggy and disoriented, before rubbing her eyes. “What?” she mumbled. Then, as the fog cleared, her face lit up with hope. She sat up straight, clutching the blanket. “Did they make up?”
Harley opened his mouth, hesitating as he tried to figure out the right way to phrase it. He cleared his throat, his mind racing, before finally settling on, “They definitely made out.”
Morgan’s face scrunched in confusion before it clicked. Her eyes widened, and she let out a muffled gasp, covering her mouth with both hands.
“They kissed?” she whispered.
He shot a glance at Morgan, whose eager, wide-eyed nod made him smile. “Alright, it’s now or never. Ready for the great escape?”
Morgan bobbed her head as Harley peeked out the door of the bedroom, making sure the coast was still clear. He motioned for Morgan to grab her shoes while he grabbed his, then ushered her toward the door, whispering instructions as they tiptoed out into the hallway.
“Just keep walking, Mo. Don’t look around, don’t think too hard. The image in the living room is like Medusa— you stare at it too long, it’s gonna haunt you.”
Morgan giggled quietly but, thankfully, listened. They hustled toward the elevator, their socks barely making a sound on the floor, and Harley jabbed the call button. As the doors slid open, they darted inside, both glancing nervously back toward the living room.
The soft ding of the elevator doors didn’t stir a peep from their parents, still out cold on the couch. Harley let out a breath, and Morgan mirrored him. The second the doors closed, they turned to each other, grinning triumphantly.
“Mission accomplished,” Harley whispered.
Morgan held up her hand for a high-five, and he slapped it enthusiastically.
When the elevator doors opened on the ground level, Harley led the way to the office, where Peter and MJ were stationed. He didn’t bother knocking, pushing the door open with zero warning and startling the two inside.
MJ looked up from her sketchpad, blinking in surprise, while Peter raised his head over the edge of his laptop, eyebrows shooting up.
“It went way better than expected,” Harley announced, grinning ear to ear.
Peter shot out of his chair, nearly knocking it over. “For real?”
“For real,” Harley said, pointing back toward the elevator.
“They were snuggling!” Morgan added with an excited clap of her hands, hopping up and down like it was Christmas morning. Which, actually— it technically was now.
“Yup,” Harley confirmed, though his grin turned slightly awkward. “Uh, snuggled up asleep. Under your old X-Men quilt, by the way. Which, if you want my advice, Pete? Burn it. Burn it and don’t look back if we ever move back here.”
Peter’s face twisted like he’d just bitten into a lemon, and Harley knew his brother understood exactly what was implied.
MJ raised an eyebrow, glancing at Peter. “You had an X-Men quilt?”
“Oh, he sure did,” Harley said with a snicker, enjoying Peter’s mortified expression way too much.
Peter groaned, slumping back into his chair. “So glad my childhood bedding is the comedic highlight of the night,” he muttered.
“Dude,” Harley said, laughing as Peter’s face heated up. “What ‘childhood’? You were sleeping under that thing not even a full year ago!"
“Shut up and get over here,” Peter snapped, chucking a pen at Harley’s head. “I’ve made some progress, but we need to move faster if we want to get full control and override Dad’s systems anytime soon.”
Still grinning, Harley pulled a rolling chair from the other desk and wheeled it over next to Peter. He booted up the desktop and leaned back, waiting for it to start.
Meanwhile, Morgan skipped her way to MJ’s side, plopping down in the chair next to her and leaning over the notepad. “Can you draw me riding a unicorn?” she asked excitedly. “Oh! And make me holding, like, a giant sword!”
MJ’s lips twitched like she was considering it for all of two seconds before she nodded, a smirk forming on her face. “You know what? I think I can do that.”
Morgan squealed with delight. “Yay!”
“And then,” MJ added, glancing pointedly at Harley and Peter, “we can draw these two in the most embarrassing situations imaginable and laugh at them.”
“Double yay!” Morgan cheered, making Peter grimace and Harley snicker.