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Pepper is sifting through the afternoon mail when Tony enters the kitchen in search of a snack.
A black square envelope sticks out among its white rectangular counterparts. Tony would be intrigued if he didn’t recognize the paper nor the faint smell of ash and something chemical that always accompanied any missive from the Jones Family.
He grabs a bowl of blueberries to pick at while looking over Pepper’s shoulder, “Another invitation to a full moon party? Or is it a seance this time?”
Tony spins away as Pepper tuts before pulling the invitation out. Rather than the expected thematic black cardstock, the invitation is a soft gray, and Tony can see the fluid and beautiful penmanship he’s come to expect from the hand of Mrs. Michelle Parker Jones.
Pepper clears her throat and recites, “The Jones Family invites you to celebrate our beloved child’s first birthday. Mark the day in blood and libations as we honor the past, present, and future Jones Family. Please refrain from bringing explosives and chemical weapons as we will have more than enough to share.”
Tony snorts while tossing up a few blueberries in succession. He misses the first handful but manages to catch the last two and gives Pepper his signature smirk. “Yeah Pep, remind me to keep my heat seeking missiles at home. Wouldn’t want them to get the wrong ideas.”
Pepper rolls her eyes and fans herself with the invitation, trying and failing to look nonchalant, “we are free that weekend, you know.”
Tony chokes on a blueberry and coughs to clear his throat. “What? You’re not booked with a hostile takeover?”
“Ha ha,” Pepper mocks, “I only schedule those for Tuesdays.” Pepper grabs a pen from the lovingly named Crap Drawer, and opens her datebook to write down the details. Tony remains frozen until she starts filling out the RSVP slip.
“You can’t be serious—you want to enter the Den of the Devil? House of Horrors? Casa del Muerto?”
Tony leans his hip against the counter watching as she checks the “Attending” option and writes the number 2 with a flourish in the “Number of Guests” space.
“No one but you calls it that,” Pepper responds, using his chest to click the pen closed.
“Happy calls it that!” He corrects, making a grab for the RSVP slip.
Pepper gracefully bobs and weaves away, sauntering out of the kitchen with a wave of her hand. “We’re going and we’re bringing something nice.”
Tony hangs his head and goes to look over the damn invitation. There’s a small Jones Family crest at the top and associated embellishments. The cardstock is nice and heavy, and the black ink seems to deepen the longer he reads the words. His fingers graze over the backside of the invitation and he flips over to see a larger version of the crest in the center with what looks like latin script underneath.
The unfamiliar words curl over one another and the ink seems to thicken and bubble. And does he smell smoke again?
“Tony!”
He jolts and drops the invitation, bewildered.
Happy yells again and Tony rubs his eyes before following Happy’s voice somewhere in the front of the house.
The next few weeks, the only mark of the Jones Family in his crisp modern home is the black envelope hanging on the fridge thanks to Tony’s second favorite refrigerator magnet, a neon pink and yellow pina colada monstrosity from the first time he and Pepper traveled for fun and not for work.
Tony doesn’t dislike the Joneses: they’re likable and odd. But the amount of explosions and weird smells that emanate from the house keep Tony relatively far from the property when he can help it. Though the family has all the class and breeding of their pastel counterparts, they’re rarely invited to the various golf and tennis tournaments the other families pretend not to obsess over. Peter and Michelle never seem to be put out by it, and their open dismissal of the status quo makes Tony like them more than he lets on.
Tony flicks the invitation every chance he gets, and given how often he’s in the room searching for snacks, there’s a slight dent from his index finger.
He goes to flick it one evening and it’s gone. A bit perturbed that his routine has been interrupted, Tony heads towards the foyer to complain through the house until Pepper finds him.
She’s already on her way down the grand staircase fiddling with a pearl drop earring. He would say she’s dressed to the nines but she never wears this much black. In any other color, her dress would be considered a summer dress—it’s sleeveless and shows a delicious amount of her decolletage, but in black it’s more of a statement piece.
“Are we going to a funeral for someone we hate that I forgot about?” As he offers a hand like a gentleman they pretend he is. She takes it and kisses him on the way down the last few steps.
“Wrong occasion bub,” she untucks the invitation from under her other arm and presses it against Tony’s forehead.
“That’s where it went! It’s been my sparring partner these last few weeks, strengthening my paper football muscles to god tier levels!” He performs a few flicks to show off.
She tucks the invitation back under her arm and rolls her eyes, “What good is the muscle if you still can’t aim.” He pouts. She kisses him again and wraps her arms around his shoulders.
“Please go change, I don’t want to be late,” Pepper orders as she kisses him a third time and plays a little grab ass that gets Tony hopping up the stairs.
“I’ll get you for that Ms. Potts,” Tony calls from their balcony.
“I’m counting on it.” Pepper has the audacity to wink.
Tony would play scandalized if he wasn’t a little eager to see how frisky she was willing to get in the ten minute drive over.
He changes quickly into a charcoal gray suit with a matching shirt. Tony almost reaches for the tie but thinks twice and ultimately forgoes it as he doesn’t want to give anyone an opportunity to reel him in by the neck.
With a black pocket square to finish the look, Tony bounds down the stairs to see whether Pepper’s willing to be fashionably late.
The way her eyes rove over him before he leans in for a kiss tells Tony he has a 50/50 chance.
They’re only mildly unfashionably late by the scoff Happy gives as he holds up a huge gift box wrapped in shimmery black paper. He’s got his two arms around it and is adjusting his hold slightly every few seconds. His chin barely makes it over the top edge.
“Hey Pep, you feel like walking or want me to drive you over?”
Tony would easily butt in to ask why Happy, his head of security, is asking Pepper and not him, the man Happy’s tasked with securing, but Pepper cuts in to ask for a ride.
“I don’t want to lug that box to the car, let alone up the Jones' hill,” she explains as she motions for Happy to pass the box over.
There’s a metallic tang that sounds when she gets a good grip and Tony realizes he doesn’t even know what he’s giving the kid.
It takes him another second to realize he doesn’t know what the kid’s name is either.
He’s about to ask Pepper but she turns to him and unceremoniously drops the present into his arms and he has to engage his thigh muscles again to carry unexpected weight.
“Ooof! Pep–!”
Tony’s not as tall as Happy, so he can’t get his full chin over the top edge, but Tony’s able to shift the box a little to see Pepper walking away, motioning him to wait for the car.
Tony busies himself with guessing what gift is metal, that big, and suited for a one-year-old child of darkness when Happy honks and gets out to help Tony put it in the front seat.
As Pepper settles in next to him, Tony mentally prepares for the circus that awaits them and starts collecting fun and exciting stories that hopefully hold a candle to at least one of the absurd stories Peter Parker Jones will undoubtedly share.
The ride up is quick given that they’re nearby neighbors, but the car inches up the hill slowly to avoid all the hearses and oldsmobiles illegally parked along the sidewalk.
“Must be a big party,” Happy remarks as he finally pulls up to the curved driveway.
Pepper goes over both of their appearances before turning to Happy to confirm he’ll get them in a few hours.
Tony pats Happy on the shoulder in thanks and is about to make a parting joke when the door is wretched open with a deep groan.
Anyone who claims Tony yelped would be patently wrong and summarily sued out of hearth and home.
Pepper and Happy still snicker behind him.
Smoothing his lapels, Tony steps out ready to make a pointed dig, but it dies on his tongue.
Pepper follows with a joke at Tony’s expense, fiddling with her dress and bumping into his back since he hasn’t moved a step.
She’s about to elbow him forward when she hears another groan. Pepper’s eyes track up the large frame, and she has to lean her head back a ways to make eye contact with the attendee.
“Oh, hello there,” Pepper says, ever the cordial guest. The attendee inclines her head.
Tony mumbles something under his breath before Pepper lightly swats his shoulder and he follows with, “–Yes, hello, there….big fella—lady!—uh miss.”
The attendee’s top lip curls and she rolls her eyes. She lifts a large hand and Tony thinks she’s going to crush him and Pep like bugs when the arm fully extends to the front of the house.
The attendee groans again when Happy gets out of the car to hand over the kid’s present.
She takes it from Happy easily and gives it a good shake.
Tony winces at her strength, but Pepper looks on admiringly. “I assure you, nothing but the best for the Jones child.” The attendee nods and gives it to another waiting staffer who disappears with it somewhere.
The attendee, whose name tag Tony finally reads as Lucille, groans something else and Pepper flashes a smile, “We will enjoy ourselves, thank you Lucille.”
Tony turns to ask Pepper how she discerned what Lucille even said when a saber whistles through the hair and lands between his feet.
“TONY! YOU’VE ARRIVED!”
Tony should have yelled and jumped back, but after a year of dodging sabers, maces, lances, arrows, and that one time a live grenade, he now just rolls his eyes. Tony easily frees the saber from the cobblestones and throws it back at their host.
Who catches it in his teeth with glee.
Tony offers his hand to Pepper and plays off his skillful throw as they walk up the path to the door. Peter tries to talk through the metal in his mouth, indistinguishable and confusing, but Tony chalks it up to the man rather than the blade.
Tony wants to bet Pepper that Peter will swallow the sword before realizing it’s impeding his speech when his wife floats through the doorway and places a gentle hand on his shoulder.
Mrs. Michelle Parker Jones is always stunning and tonight is no exception. Her slim figure is pronounced in her favored black ensemble and her composure only highlights her husband’s eccentricities.
She whispers something in his ear and slides the blade between his lips, the metal of the blade reflects the light almost as beautifully as the familiar web diamonds and pearls adorning her hand and wrist.
The look that passes between them is electric.
Peter drops to one knee and Michelle raises a perfect brow while running the edge of the blade across his proffered throat.
Tony swears he hears Peter purr.
Peter adjusts his hips surreptitiously—or as much one can on their knees—and brings the hand that’s holding the saber up for a kiss.
“Cara mia,” Peter begs.
“Beloved,” comes Michelle’s breathy reply.
Tony fights the urge to make a face, and clasps his hands behind his back to stop himself from ruining whatever moment is building between them.
Peter looks up at his wife and at her heavy stare starts removing each of her fingers from the blade’s handle with a little kiss and suckle.
At Peter’s final kiss against her pinkie, Michelle smoothly releases the saber into Peter’s waiting hand before grasping his chin, her blood red nails a perfect compliment to his flushed cheeks.
“Begging on your knees, Peter? Oh that does bring back memories.” Michelle smirks, releasing his chin to caress his face.
“Every day of my life,” Peter nuzzles her hand before giving the edge of her palm a bite, “or every hour if you let me.”
Michelle releases a light chuckle as Peter sinks his teeth back into her palm and shakes his head like a dog, her hand his prized treat.
“Down boy,” she murmurs and he releases his hold. She uses both hands to hold his face, bringing him up as she leans in for a kiss.
Tony hears Pepper sigh wistfully and he tags it mentally as “To Be Dissected Later.”
Entranced in the kiss, Peter tries to roam his hands against her back only to realize the saber incapacitates one. Peter flings the saber over his shoulder without another thought, and the corresponding cheer tells Tony Peter hit a fantastic target.
Pepper sighs again and Tony goes to clear his throat—they can’t just stand in front of the Joneses as they paw at each other, there’s a child’s birthday to celebrate!
Michelle pulls away from the kiss. Peter tries to follow but her hands against his chest stops him.
Peter nods unperturbed and adjusts his arms so Michelle can nod in Tony and Pepper’s direction.
Gone is the electricity and wanting, and all that remains is allure and poise; Michelle really is the consummate hostess.
“Peter, Michelle, thank you for inviting us!” Pepper greets as they climb up the final stone steps.
The Joneses give her a blinding and quiet smile, respectively, yet both feel equally welcoming.
“Of course we would invite our closest neighbors and first friends!” Peter releases Michelle to lean in to give her a kiss on both cheeks, which makes Pepper giggle. Tony smirks at her reaction and she steps on his foot quietly.
“We enjoy you, Pepper. You are always welcome in our home.” Michelle goes to kiss Pepper on the cheeks as well and they share a warm familiar smile.
Michelle’s dark eyes cut to him directly and a different smile graces her features; it's almost a smirk, “Tony. How are you this evening?”
Tony smirks back, leaning in to kiss her cheek politely, “Doing fine Mrs. Parker Jones. Excited to see what qualifies as a good time on this side of the hill.”
Her smile turns a little sharp but remains playful, “Make sure you can keep up.”
While Tony normally gets the weapons flung his way courtesy of Peter, he knows the best person to spar with, at least verbally, is Michelle. And from her quick responses, Michelle seems to enjoy it as much as he does. It’s an understanding they’ve come to after multiple conversations across the threshold when Tony returned the various historical torture implements lobbed at him by her excitable husband.
He’s about to respond when Happy clears his throat to offer Pepper the coat she left in the car. At Pepper’s nod, he passes it over to an attendee who gives Pepper a coat check ticket and tells Pepper how to retrieve her wrap at the evening’s end.
During the exchange, Michelle looks over Happy with interest, whether like an experiment or a new form of deadly disease Tony can’t decide.
“Are you participating in our revelry this evening, sir?” Michelle tilts her head.
“Oh! Uh, me? Um, no—I can’t! I mean I won’t—I mean I wasn’t invited!”
Tony looks over his shoulder at Happy with a grimace.
“Please join us, the more the merrier! Peter Parker Jones!” Peter puts his hand out to shake Happy’s.
“Happy Hogan,” Happy nods and pulls his hand back swiftly, keenly aware of the stories Tony’s shared about Peter’s eager handshakes.
Peter returns to his default hold on Michelle’s waist, who leans into his touch, “And this is my wife: the indomitable, the incomparable, the illustrious Michelle Parker Jones.” He kisses her cheek and follows the line down her neck to the junction with her shoulder.
The blush that graces Michelle’s features isn’t bashful or shy, but pleased and a bit proud.
“Good evening, Mr. Hogan,” she nods in his direction, placing a delicate hand over Peter’s heart. Peter immediately stops kissing her neck and smiles at them without shame as if he wasn’t devouring her in front of guests, thrice over.
The web of pearls and diamonds on Michelle’s hand still glitter and sparkle as brilliantly as it did the first day he met her.
Tony knows it’s one of her favorite pieces, though he normally doesn’t see it during his weekly drop-offs. He surmises that Michelle likely favors it for important or sentimental days rather than random Thursday afternoons.
“Please join us, we have more than enough food and drink for another guest.” She gives Happy a small nod and Happy shrugs in acceptance.
Peter’s face breaks into a bigger smile and he laughs loudly. He turns to yell something quick and in another language at someone in their home before pulling Michelle closer to him to beckon the three of them inside.
“We’ll find you somewhere soon for a toast! Enjoy yourselves!” Peter yells at their retreating figures. Tony turns around to respond when he catches Peter dip Michelle low, murmuring something against her ear before kissing her across her cheeks, lips, down her neck and—
Pepper slaps the back of his head to break his attention, “Come on you creep, you got enough of a look when we walked in.”
Happy laughs before darting away somewhere and Tony would’ve wondered where he went except he’s too busy taking in the home around him.
Tony doesn’t know who Peter or Michelle knows in the Building Department, but he’s sure that some of these features are not up to City code.
The ceilings are high and vaulted, with gargantuan windows letting in the soft moonlight rays. The shadow of the family crest and credo shines against the dark tiles and when Tony looks up the shadow’s origin is from a rose window, an ominous beacon though he still doesn’t know what the words mean.
As they make their way through the house, the noise of the party increases and Tony knows this won’t just be some mansion party with booze and drugs.
Ancestral oil paintings catch the bouncing light from swaying chandeliers, various large tapestries are slightly askew as various partygoers flit to and fro, and laughter and cheers echo through the halls.
The party is in full swing and Tony does a full turn to catch a glimpse of the conservatory full of couples gliding to the music from the twelve string orchestra, the banquet hall bursting with food and drink, and what looks like a sword fighting tournament starting up in the hallway leading to the library.
“Thank God Lucille took the gift, we wouldn’t have made it through without breaking anything,” Pepper laughs as she dodges two sisters dancing with daggers in their mouths.
“Yeah, wouldn’t want the gift to come with a side of flaming arrows,” Tony muses as he sidesteps an errant arm thrown out and the subsequent spill from the smoking goblet, its owner laughing and downing it all in one go.
Pepper smiles and kisses his cheek softly, “we’re going to have fun tonight, even if we stick out like sore thumbs.”
Though they’re classically dressed for the invitation, Tony knows the cut of his suit and the fabric of her evening dress are too on trend compared to the crushed velvets, rich silks, and heavy embroidery that the other attendees have donned for the occasion.
“At least Peter and Michelle won’t lose us in the crowd!” Tony jokes as grabs two glasses from a passing waiter.
Pepper peers at the green liquid and Tony gives it an experimental sniff, “Poison or alcohol?”
Pepper shrugs, “Alcohol can be poisonous if you didn’t know.”
Tony just smirks and clinks their glasses together, “See you on the other side, babe.”
Tony doesn’t know how many hours have passed.
There has been dancing, singing, an acrobat show, a fire show, and the sword fighting tournament finale.
He’s not wearing his suit jacket because it caught fire but can’t remember where he threw it after dunking it in a passing ice bucket.
His shirt has various spills, stains, and marks from various guests who have smeared food, makeup, or ash across his shirt. Tony’s momentarily thankful he didn’t go for a white button-up tonight.
He knows he’s sweaty in three different places and if he didn’t lose his jacket he’d use his pocket square to dab at his forehead and neck. Tony opts for an abandoned dinner napkin and tucks it into his pocket for future use.
Looking up to steady his breath, Tony sees the stars twinkle through the ceiling of the conservatory. He eyes the open joy and merriment in the room and chuckles at the condensation creeping up the glass walls as a result of the endless partying.
Pepper’s angelic laughing catches Tony’s attention and he tries to swivel his head to follow it, but the abrupt movement rattles his vision, and Tony has to hold his head to keep it from spinning.
Pepper’s voice rings out again and he hears the tail end of it. He peers around various trios and couples along the edge of the dance floor attempting to spot her strawberry hair before finally making eye contact when she completes another circuit around the room. Her eyes twinkle and she gives him a wink before returning her focus to her partner, Ned Leeds, whose ruffled shirt and embroidered jacket makes him look twice as dashing.
It’s not a romantic or intimate dance, rather they’re swinging in circles and yelling gibberish every other eight-count, but the carefree look on her face makes Tony feel a little put out—he wants to be the one who makes her feel this alive and uninhibited.
The song ends and they all clap heartily, Pepper wiping her eyes with mirth and gesturing to Ned that she wants something to drink. Ned bows to her and takes up another partner, a blonde wrapped in black tulle whose piercing eyes would make Tony worry about Ned if not for the blissful smile immediately gracing Ned’s features.
Tony grabs a water goblet and bisects Pepper’s trajectory to a banquet table, wrapping her up with one arm and offering the drink in the other.
“Bless you Tony,” she smiles eagerly, grabbing the cup and taking a hearty drink.
“Having fun out there?” He kisses her cheek.
“Yes! This is nothing like the parties for the company, with all the stuffy suits and doublespeak,” Pepper rolls her eyes and she straightens up, her CEO side peeking its head out.
“We do aim to please,” Michelle’s soft voice seems to cut through the raucous noise behind them.
They turn to greet their hosts, and Tony can’t help but prod, “Long time no see, Michelle, I was wondering where you two ran off to.”
She smiles with one side of her mouth, “It’s a large estate, easy to get lost with all the excitement.”
Tony opens his mouth to keep teasing but Pepper pinches his side slightly. “Are you taking to the floor again, Michelle? One more waltz before winding down?”
“A final dance after we have our toast,” Michelle holds out a hand to Pepper, “would you mind doing me a favor before we start?”
Pepper squeezes her hand, “Of course.” Michelle pulls her close as they make their way out of the conservatory, with Pepper only having a moment to shove her cup back at Tony and give him a wink.
Tony, feeling his age and a little drained from the festivities, leans against a wall close to the entrance of the conservatory where it’s less crowded. He holds Pepper’s goblet against his heart, missing her like the dufus he is.
“You doing okay, old man?” Ned’s voice is a little slurred as he appears on Tony’s right side. But when he turns to respond, Tony notices Ned’s looking no worse for wear even if he’s been in every dance since Tony and Pepper arrived.
“We can’t all possess the magical ability to dance the night away, Mr. Footloose,” he nudges Ned’s arm.
Ned doesn’t seem to catch the reference and bobs his head slightly to the music, “It wasn’t always this good before.”
Tony wants to ask Ned where he’s taking this but he continues, lost in memory, “Ol’ Petey and Chelle always had each other, but it wasn’t always like sailing in the Triangle, wasn’t always that good. They deserve this after everything.”
Tony sees the jolly facade crack, “Peter lost his family a long time ago, and he didn’t think there would be more than just him and his Aunt May,” Ned pauses to grab a goblet from a passing waiter, “But Chelle, she came in and changed it all for him.” Ned smiles into his drink before drinking it in one and throwing it somewhere behind Tony. “Made sure he knew us Joneses were as much his family as we are hers. Gave him a web of cousins and relatives that love him almost as much as she does.”
The revelation that Peter is a Jones through marriage and not genetics surprises Tony a little; the number of openly loud and excitable Jones relatives he’s met tonight skew toward Peter’s side of eccentric rather than Michelle’s whole “queen of the damned” thing.
Ned reflects quietly for a bit and Tony’s about to offer some platitude or a water when Ned turns to look Tony straight in the eye, “Peter tries to hide it, but I can tell sometimes he still feels lonely. The only Parker Jones in the sea of Joneses. When they came out here, it was a fresh start. I’m glad he met you.”
“He just likes using me for target practice,” Tony minimizes with a wave of his hand.
Ned smiles like he knows all Tony’s secrets, pushing off the wall and moving to rejoin his family. “Whatever you say. Either way, I’m glad you’re here. You don’t want to miss this.” He throws a secretive smile over his shoulder as the crowds part and the dance floor empties.
Coos, oos, and aahs build as Tony spots the tops of Michelle’s and Peter’s heads as they reenter the conservatory.
Tony gets off the wall to try to see their child, curious that he hasn’t met the kid before this moment. He half expected the Joneses to be tossing the baby around like a beach ball.
Through the arms of the crowd he can make out Michelle’s floating gait and Peter’s confident step. Peter has one arm around Michelle and is holding their child in the other but Tony still can’t see the kid at all.
Right as he starts to make out a black bootie, Pepper tugs his arm.
“Pep!” Tony groans and tries to see through the crowd again, but the trio is too far away.
“Sorry Tony, I wanted to make sure we get a good view!” She tugs him along and slots them in at the edge of the orchestra. A violinist huffs, but lets them be.
“Where’d you even go with Michelle anyways?”
“None of your business,” Pepper swats at him playfully, “now shut up, or we’ll miss the good part!”
Though the location is slightly better, he can only see Michelle’s side profile, and the edge of Peter’s frame. Tony can tell Peter’s changed outfits, but can’t make out the ensemble.
The little family stands tall before the horde of Joneses, and the faces he sees reflect the awe and affection Tony’s beginning to feel himself.
Ned peels himself from the crowd to offer his goblet to Michelle; whatever murmurs remain die out when she raises it.
“My family,” she turns from one end of the room to the other, “I thank you for joining us in our revelry, our devilry, and our gluttony.”
Waves of boisterous laughter and cheers go through the crowd and Michelle gives a sly smirk.
“Tonight is a day of memory, of pain, of pleasure, and of celebration. We have come together to bear witness to the might and virility of our family, so that all know we will never be stamped out. We have been called tricksters, cheats, bandits—all lovely compliments.”
A few snickers break the silence.
“But we have also been called scum, leeches, and bottomfeeders by those who have no comprehension of how vital we are to the ecosystem. Our family has existed as a parallel, a reflection, an unwanted match. Though we may not have always been welcome, we have always been necessary. For every day, we bring night, for every rose they bloom, we grow thorns, for every life, there must be death.”
Cheers reverberate through the room and someone starts to chant in Latin, the noise building to a furor, the tension and excitement crackling in the air.
Michelle raises both arms, “We are Joneses, and we gladly feast on those who would subdue us.”
The cheers explode and Michelle’s eyes gleam with love for her family.
Tony is in awe of her. This isn’t just a birthday party, but a testament to her family’s perseverance, longevity, and strength.
Michelle hands her drink to Peter so she can hold their child close to her cheek.
“Tonight is our beloved Dahlia’s first birthday,” Peter’s voice comes out soft and teary once the crowd settles down. “She is a Parker Jones through and through. She is an extension of my exquisite wife and my entire soul.”
He presses a kiss to his wife’s waiting mouth and on their child’s forehead. Michelle rotates so that Dahlia gets a full view of all those gathered in her honor.
Peter continues on but Tony’s not listening, because the first thing he realizes when Michelle faces their daughter his way is that Dahlia Parker Jones is a fat baby. She has full cheeks, meaty hands, a round tummy, and thick thigh rolls. She’d be comparable to a putto in a Baroque painting if she wasn’t shrouded in her family’s signature color.
The second thing Tony realizes is that Michelle is radiant though her expression remains aloof. Tony determines the change is in her eyes: rather than cool and observant, they’re dancing and bright—a look that’s more typical of Peter. Well, Tony reasons, she is a Jones.
“Isn’t she perfect?” Pepper whispers and waves a few fingers as if Dalia is looking.
“She’s fat,” Tony whispers.
Pepper sighs happily, “Exactly, fat and perfect.”
Tony smiles to himself and kisses Pepper’s temple in concession before turning to listen to the rest of Peter’s speech.
“—You all have welcomed me as a Parker Jones the moment I entered Chelle’s life, and I am honored to give you a life in return. Blood for blood works best in the family, right?”
Dahlia claps as her family laughs at Peter’s joke and he turns to face his wife and daughter.
“Michelle, cara mia, I could never ask for more in life and death than to be by your side always. You are my everything and you have given me more than I could ask for in Dahlia. No man could be tortured in life better than I because no one else has you. I am forever your humble and willing servant.”
Michelle reaches a hand to pull Peter close, whispering something against his lips before consuming him in a kiss.
Peter pulls away a little dumbstruck and smiles widely at Dahlia who babbles happily. “Tonight, my little one, we dance in your honor. Tonight as a family, we dance the Mamushka!”
The crowd cheers as the musicians play the introductory notes and Ned makes it to the floor again. Pepper pulls away from Tony to pass Michelle a tambourine and deposit Dahlia in the lap of a beautiful woman with long hair and glasses wearing a velvet maroon flared pantsuit.
When she returns, Tony wants to ask Pepper if she knows who she even gave Dahlia to when Michelle starts to play her tambourine. Immediately, he’s distracted by Peter and Ned’s opening dance moves, then by the slapping, and then the knife throwing.
God, he forgets sometimes how odd his closest neighbors really are.
As the witching hour comes and goes, Tony decides he’s man enough to admit he wants to leave early. He busies himself trying to locate his jacket and his wife and his head of security.
He manages to find all three, but realizes belatedly that his jacket has a hole burned through the back when he puts it on and smells the singed fabric. Pepper huffs a laugh against his neck and Happy goes to find Lucille to bring the car around.
Peter and Michelle stand at the doorway, a bookend to their welcoming pose, looking ethereal in the moonlight with Dahlia babbling and giggling between them.
Pepper kisses Michelle and Peter on both cheeks and kisses Dahlia on the forehead, “Tonight was amazing. Thank you for letting us be part of it.”
Dahlia gives Pepper a smile and she coos, “Happy Birthday my darling Dahlia, may you dream of storms and sulfur tonight.”
Tony shakes Peter’s hand, and kisses Michelle’s cheek, “Not so bad for new blood.”
“We are happy you deigned to come,” Michelle smirks.
Tony rubs a soft finger against Dahlia’s fat cheek, “Happy Birthday, butterball.”
Peter’s laugh is startling in the dead of night and he claps Tony on the shoulder, “Still on for crossbows on Thursday?”
Tony squints to play it cool, “Double or nothing, Parker Jones.”
Peter smiles brightly, “You’re on.”
Tony nods once more to Michelle, “I’ll see you around.”
“Not if I see you first.” They share a smile.
Pepper blows a kiss to Dahlia as they slide into the backseat. Dahlia’s goodbye giggles ring in Tony’s ears as Happy drives down the lane.
“Did you have fun tonight, Hap?” Tony asks, snuggling into Pepper who’s already half asleep.
“Oh yeah, that whole family, they really are a scream.”