Tony had almost forgotten that. He was so absorbed in the memory that he quickly even recovered from the brief bout of indulgent preening that came with being someone's favourite-- rarely brief in Tony's case, but that was how visceral his reaction was as soon as she said Christmas. He already knew the story that was coming. He remembered what the store smelled like (plastic and lemon disinfectant) and how dark it seemed when they were alone without the rush of Christmas shoppers that had been there hours before and were all tucked in their beds by then, dreaming of sugar plums. He remembered how she was still in her pajamas and how there was a faded 'A' on the shirt that she had drawn on with marker. He remembered Pepper mumbling about not having any parties in her schedule the next morning while he blearily, cheerily sipped his B-52. All he contributed, though, was, "That's when we got Elizabeth," and the smile he had tried to force before had spring up unbidden for him to cover with a knuckle pressed to his lip.
Who knew about that? She was right, as far as Tony knew, he never told anyone, anyway. Not that anyone would even believe that playboy ladies' man Tony Stark was out all night in a toy store with an eight year old. When he looked at her and was actually seeing her again, Tony's brow was furrowed and his mouth open, not sure how to cope with this. Maybe a lot of things really were exactly the same.