"I don't have anywhere else to go, nor do I have an identity here. I do need time to adapt… but I have three conditions."
He held up a hand, counting them off one by one.
"First, I don't want to be adopted—by anyone. Second, once I've received the exoskeleton suit you promised, I'm free to leave. You won't restrict my movements. Third, this arrangement won't exceed a year."
"I'll prove to you that I'm safe—no matter where I go."
Their eyes met, neither backing down. Lemu's gaze carried a clear message—non-negotiable.
Staying indefinitely was out of the question. Nobody liked being watched or confined. The world was vast, and Lemu wasn't planning to waste his days as someone else's research subject. If anything, a slime should be free to explore.
Stark rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
From design to assembly, the suit would take roughly six months—nowhere near a full year. That left him with plenty of time to observe and assess the alien's true nature.
If something went wrong, the suit would also serve as insurance—a last resort if negotiations failed and conflict became unavoidable.
All things considered, Stark was already satisfied with the terms. It was better to resolve things diplomatically than to risk forcing an alien into outright hostility.
His smile softened, becoming noticeably more genuine as he extended a hand.
"Deal."
"And I hope there's no misunderstanding. I'm not trying to limit your freedom—I'm just concerned about safety. In fact, I'll even help you settle your identity and provide whatever support you need."
Lemu accept Stark's outstretched hand.
"Then I'll be troubling you."
Slimes were known to hold grudges—probably.
Pepper glanced between Stark and Lemu, her brow subtly furrowed. The conversation between the two felt oddly offbeat, like a mismatched rhythm that she couldn't quite put her finger on.
And that gesture—Lemu's polite.
Do Afghan people even have such traditions?
Pepper's thoughts spiraled as she studied the boy. Yet, the motion looked surprisingly natural on him, carrying a youthful sharpness that made her heart ache with nostalgia.
Ah, to be young…
With Lemu's situation temporarily settled, Tony Stark finally felt like he could breathe again.
What a colossal headache. No matter how he handled it, the kid was bound to be trouble. Keeping him around wasn't exactly convenient either.
Taking care of him personally? Absolutely out of the question. Babysitting wasn't in Stark's job description. Someone else would have to handle it.
Stark's eyes landed squarely on his assistant.
"Pepper, I'm giving you a new assignment." He pointed in Lemu's direction, issuing orders like a general preparing for battle.
"Keep an eye on him—24/7. Help him adjust to life in America. Your primary objective is to make sure he doesn't cause any trouble. And under no circumstances," Stark emphasized, "is he allowed in the basement. That's non-negotiable."
The basement, Stark's personal workshop, was sacred ground. It housed his DIY projects, including his cutting-edge tech and prototype machinery—his life's work.
Pepper nodded without hesitation. "Of course. Whatever you say, boss." She smiled knowingly. "I'm quite experienced in taking care of children. It's practically my full-time job already."
Stark snorted, waving her off dismissively. "Another job? Are you telling me my paycheck isn't high enough? When did you—" He paused, suddenly uninterested in finishing the thought.
"Never mind. I don't care. I'm giving you a 30% raise—effective immediately. Drop your other job by tomorrow."
He couldn't stand the idea of his assistant moonlighting elsewhere. It left a sour taste in his mouth—like some kind of betrayal.
Pepper tilted her head, her expression positively radiant.
"I've only ever had one job." Her voice dripped with sweetness.
Passive-aggressive Pepper unlocked.
Stark felt the words catch in his throat. If he denied it, it'd sound petty. But agreeing would make him look like a child throwing a tantrum.
Damn it. Should've kept my mouth shut.
Defeated, Stark rose to his feet and headed toward the basement, swiping a bag of blueberries on his way out like a man retreating from battle.
"Fine. Whatever. Pepper, handle the identity papers for 'Lemu Jr.' If you hit any walls, call me."
He didn't wait for a reply, already focused on his next task—building a new arc reactor. The old one, hastily assembled under duress, was crude at best. It was time to upgrade.
Meanwhile, Pepper wasted no time reaching out to her contacts at Immigration Services.
Getting a green card for someone without prior records wasn't a simple task. Without Stark's connections, the process would've been near-impossible, even with loopholes.
And even with those connections, there was still a price to pay. Lemu, acting as the applicant, would have to pledge a substantial investment to grease the wheels and ensure the process moved quickly and safely.
Still, Pepper knew that securing a green card was just the first step. It granted residency—not citizenship. Applying for citizenship would be an entirely different level of bureaucracy and red tape.
Roughly half an hour later, Stark's voice echoed through the intercom.
"Pepper, get down here."
She set her documents aside and headed to the basement.
Pushing the door open, she was greeted by an entirely unprofessional sight—Stark, shirtless and sprawled across a chair, waving her over like a man with no sense of decorum.
Yep. Definitely not a serious moment.
….
"Come here. Let me see your hands."
Pepper blinked in confusion but raised her hands obediently, unsure of what Stark was up to.
"Wow. Tiny hands. Very tiny hands," Stark commented, nodding to himself before flashing one of his trademark grins. "I need you to do me a little favor."
As Pepper stepped closer, her gaze fell on the glowing arc reactor embedded in Stark's chest. She had known about it before, but seeing it up close—actually seeing it—was an entirely different experience.
Her breath hitched. Was it awe? Or disbelief?
"Oh my god… That thing is what's keeping you alive?"
Keep the review and power flow in…