Antonia Maria Stark. Beautiful, extremely intelligent, incredibly immature, and...pregnant? She stared at the pregnancy test. Then she shook it, for good measure. But no, still stubbornly showing a plus sign. Pregnant. Oh God.
“Toni?” a voice called through the bathroom door. “What’s the result?”
Toni walked slowly to the door and pulled it open. Wordlessly, she handed the test to Pepper, who was standing on the other side. Pepper looked at it, then at Toni.
“Alright then,” said Pepper, collected as always. “What are we going to do about this?”
It was just some one-night stand. It was New Years, and Toni was stupid drunk, and there was this intelligent and beautiful man, and she slept with him, because that was the sort of thing she did. Curse you, open bar!
“How am I pregnant, Pepper? I’m on the pill!” Toni wailed, her hands running over her face. “This cannot be happening, oh god.” She sat down on the nearest surface, and put her face in her hands. “I cannot be pregnant. I am the world’s most unqualified person to be a mother.”
Pepper looked at her. “Toni,” she said, “You’re freaking out unnecessarily.” She put the pregnancy test down next to Toni. “You have options. You don’t have to keep it, or you can give it up for adoption.”
For the millionth time that day, Toni thanked whatever powers that be for Pepper Potts. She was an oasis of calm in the midst of the storm that was Toni Stark. Then she sat there breathing deeply for a while.
In the end, she decided to carry the baby to term. She spent the next nine months completely sober and hiding from the press, which were both incredibly hard, and so out of character for her that there was a rumour she’d died.
When the baby came, she called him Peter. She gave him away, and she never looked back.