Heya! I just wanting to thank everyone before letting you read this chapter… I may or may not have cried tears of joy (I totally cried) when I saw all the follows/favorites the first chapter got, and the kind reviews made me squeal in happiness (yeah, I'm weird).

So, thanks to Aparecium Inkwell, Cate126, FallenAngelWings, Fan02, G. .97, HelloShootingStar, JollyRosieMe, Marshmallow016, MaryPrayther, PhantomGirl1223, Sherizal, .Scifi, TheLastOfTheRealOnes (I understood that reference), Toa Aerrow, YoungPrinceLou, alyssajade, buystoomanybooks (you can never buy too many books, don't worry!), fluffyunicorn2, msScorpia, sloth-eyes, Autumn CanterNot, , Emptyfridges, Kaekoa, OniHika68, Rainy Spirit, am1906, lovegoa and signofthetimeshs for following and/or favoring this story!

And mega-special thanks to Marshmallow016, Fan02 and for their lovely reviews!

You guys are amazing! Enjoy ;)

-000-

Being a Stark had a lot of advantages, that's was Tony tried to remember when he was attempting to cheer himself up.

He had the feeling that, since a few days, he had fallen in a vicious circle. His little naps with Peter seemed to be now a distant memory, not being able anymore to close his eyes without seeing Yinsen's lifeless body, the gigantic and gloomy Chitauri spaceship in that suffocating void, or Captain America's shield, abandoned next to him as he thought he was going to freeze to death alone. He didn't know what could have triggered such frequent and violent nightmares.

Well, actually he did knew. He was just trying to forget it, for his sanity's sake.

No, it wasn't Ross. This clown could harass him and call him several times a day to require information on the rogue Avengers, he still stayed -for now- harmless.

No, it wasn't a problem with Stark Industries. Pepper was still in charge of his company, and she was doing wonderfully well. She deserved to be the chief executive officer so much more than him; sales were soaring, popularity was constantly growing, the competitors were no match for the industry, in short everything was alright.

What Tony was desperately trying to make fall into oblivion was the brief but nevertheless noticeable sight of a certain Steve Rogers he had in the street, about a week ago. Here. In New York.

He was roaming in a supermarket that day, in disguise and devouring a muffin, because he had felt the sudden urge to take a stroll in the fresh (yet polluted) air and walk a bit, when he had seen him. Steve had seen him, too. The sight of the two men in itself could have been comical, if it didn't held the tragic backstory that explained their current situation. They were, at this moment, facing each other, gaping and frozen in astonishment. They were both wearing, ironically, the same disguise: a big sweat-shirt with their hoodies over their heads, and ridiculously over-sized sunglasses. That was maybe why they had recognized each other so quickly. The two of them stood there, motionless and waiting for the other to make a move. Then Tony had breathed deeply, and had forced himself to wave at his former friend before turning his back to him to continue his random purchases. Some raspberries there, extra-strong glue here, and he had rushed back to the compound to lock himself in his workshop.

Steve Rogers was in New York. And he hadn't missed the fear and uncertainty that had crossed the rogue's face. If he was here, then it probably meant that the others were with him. James Barnes, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff, Clint Barton and Scott Lang. Yes, he did know his name too, because he had made a point of learning more about the people whose life had been made unpleasant (and that was a euphemism) by his fault. This Lang had a daughter, and he was separated from her, because of him.

Everything was his fault.

Tony abruptly stood up from the stool he was tinkering on since the last few hours. His heartbeat was becoming erratic, and his respiration was so uneven that it was painful, blocked by the lump in his throat.

"Sir," F.R.I.D.A.Y warned him, "you are showing the signs of an anxiety attack."

"Yeah, I noticed," the forty-year-old man answered in a sucked breath. "I'm going to take a shower."

He went to the nearest bathroom and locked himself in. With a sigh, he moved beneath the flow of freezing water, finally taking control of his still frenetic breathing again. He liked hot showers much better, but right now he needed to wake up. Admittedly, a low temperature tended to make the organism sleepy, but it reinvigorated his mind. He didn't want to rest. To avoid nightmares, he had simply stopped sleeping. It was everything but the good solution, he knew it. He drank coffee, tinkered in his workshop with loud music, ran regularly, took cold and hot showers, his main motivation being now to evade as much as possible an unwelcome sleep.

Unfortunately for him, Tony wasn't a superhuman. Every three, four days, he ended up falling of exhaustion, and then the few next hours that followed were awfully tedious. He was aware that dreams, or rather nightmares in his case, didn't last for several hours but only a couple of minutes, yet the perceived sensation was entirely different. He would finally wake up, shaking like a leaf and spluttering, and he would began once again to fight against his brain that required more sleep (he would always end up losing, anyway).

He shut down the tap, and the flowing water stopped. Tony sighed, rubbing his tired eyes, when he remembered that he hadn't slept for four days and was probably to collapse with fatigue once more.

He closed his eyes against his will not even an hour later, when he made the mistake to sit on a sofa for a minute while answering one of Pepper's message. Sleep took him right away.

000

"I'm so sorry, Tony." Steve said while his world was falling apart around him.

His parents weren't dead in a car accident, because of defective brakes.

They had been murdered.

He felt anger take control of his body, even more powerful than pain, burning and uncontainable, and he-

"Sir, I received an alert from Karen." A familiar, reassuring voice intervened, a voice that wasn't supposed to belong to this scene.

Tony awoke with a start and instantly jumped on his feet, not wanting to fall asleep again, and blinked to chase the blurry memories out of his mind.

"What were you saying, F.R.I?" He asked.

"I received an alert from Karen, Mister Parker's artificial intelligence. It would appear he got harmed while he was stopping robbers."

He felt his heart stop for a moment and dread filled his stomach. He ordered:

"Give me his location, his vitals, and get my armor ready immediately."

"Mister Parker is currently near the intersection of the forty-first avenue and Parsons boulevard," he heard while feeling his suit surrounding his body in an almost comforting way. "He doesn't seem to be in immediate danger. According to Karen's report, he's suffering from dizziness, because of a blow to the head, and a cut to the left arm. The wound is still open and bleeding, but apparently didn't touch any vein or artery."

"So, he'll be fine, then," the billionaire mumbled, mainly to reassure himself.

"Yes, Sir. Peter will heal quickly, without any permanent damage. Karen simply wanted to warn you," F.R.I.D.A.Y explained softly, sensing its creator's distress.

And that Karen did well, Tony thought, slightly calmer. It was a good thing his machines were here, loyal (or almost always) and reliable. He propelled himself outside, towards the location given by Peter's suit. It was dark, and a full moon was lightning the sky up with a creamy white, quickly erased by the artificial lights of the city. He had to admit that it was a beautiful summer night, but he wasn't exactly able to concentrate on that detail right now.

He found Peter a short while after, having ordered his armor to fly at the maximal speed. The teenager was alone on a rooftop, still masked, and he watched his mentor land while holding his wounded arm.

"Hey, Mister Stark," he greeted, "I'm sorry for bothering you."

"What happened to you? I got an alert from your artificial intelligence, Karen, I think?"

Of course he know the name the kid had given his virtual baby-sitter, but he was hoping to make his protégé speak a bit more. The latter removed his mask with a grimace, and Tony observed that his right cheek was now colored with a dark red that would probably turn quickly turn to purple.

"It was really stupid, you know," Peter began with an embarrassed smile. "There was this robbery right down the road, in this grocery store, three men, two with knifes and one with a gun. What sort of gun, I had no idea, I don't know anything about weaponry. Maybe I should think about learning more about this, who knows? It may come to handy one day. Anyway, these guys just barge in and take a hostage, an old man that I had already met before and who's really nice -did I already tell you that he made me hot chocolate when I brought his cat back?- and start asking for wallets and mobile phones, so I-"

"Calm down, kid, calm down," Tony snickered, nevertheless reassured.

If the super-hero was still able to rant that much, then there wasn't really any reason to worry; and, he had to confess that he didn't find the young's babbling annoying… He found them refreshing, actually. He got closer to Peter, his armor retracting, to study the injury on his arm. The suit was teared, and stained with dark red, but when he gently moved the fabric he saw that the wound had already healed, only leaving a faint scar that would soon disappear too, thanks to the boy's enhanced healing abilities, who didn't move while letting the older man examine his arm. He cleared his throat, sheepish.

"Sorry, it must be the adrenaline, it makes me really talkative. Oh, and my arm only has a scratch, it'll heal fast. But I'm sorry for the suit."

"The suit isn't that important," the mechanic retorted seriously, "I prefer having you in one piece. Keep on talking, I want to know what happened. But don't forget to breathe, alright? It may be important."

"I'll keep that in mind." Peter affirmed, biting back a cheeky smile. "So when I took action, I wanted to concentrate on the one with the gun, and Karen had confirmed that it was the most dangerous one. I didn't encounter any problem with him, but the other two tried to harm the old man. I managed to stop one with my webs, but had to step between the second guy and the civil because I thought I wasn't going to have enough time. I took care of them easily enough, but still got a punch to the head and that wound. I didn't know if it was a good idea to call you, but anyway Karen did it by herself, and I'm a little scared of May's reaction when she'll see me so I'd rather like to postpone this moment as much as possible.

"And the robbers, they're…?"

"Nicely webbed up."

Spider-Man's smug tone didn't remain unnoticed to Tony, and he couldn't prevent himself from smiling fondly.

"Nice work, kid," he admitted, "but next time try to avoid any potentially dangerous object, alright?"

"Understood, Mister Stark!"

Peter looked overjoyed thanks to his hero's praise, but the latter suddenly remember his encounter of the past week, and, even if he felt bad for spoiling the mood, he forced himself to ask:

"Tell me, did you notice anything weird recently, during your interventions or your patrols?"

"Weird?" The teenager questioned, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Well..." The inventor hesitated, not wanting to reveal his face-to-face with Steve Rogers. "Things that aren't usual. Strange people, weird things occurring, you see what I mean."

The kid stayed silent for a couple of seconds, looking thoughtful. But he shook his head negatively before groaning, likely because of his throbbing head and dizziness.

"I don't think so," he answered truthfully, "I mean, I didn't see anything like that, everything seemed pretty normal to me. Why are you asking?"

Tony decided to evade the question, determined to make Peter understand him.

"If you see, if you hear, if you find anything, and I'm saying anything, that isn't normal, I want you to tell me, understood? Whatever I'm doing, wherever I am, whenever it is, even if you're not sure of yourself, call me. Promise me."

Peter didn't try to insist to learn more details about what was upsetting his mentor. Instead, he settled for staring at the older man, tilting his head, which made him look even younger than he already was.

"Okay," he finally said. "I promise."

Tony wasn't afraid of Captain America or his allies. He was afraid of the bad news they could be bringing.

"Hey, Mister Stark, do you think May'll kill me if she sees my bruise and my suit?"

The forty-year-old blinked, amused by the not-so-subtle attempt to change to steer the conversation away, and smiled, feeling affection swirling in his chest.

"The suit shouldn't be a problem, I can repair it easily. It'll be as good as new in a short lapse of time. But, as for your bruise… Hum, what flowers would you like me to bring to your funeral?"

000

Two weeks later, at approximately six in the evening, Tony was working on a new prototype of ventilation for the Iron Man suit. He had to admit that he was exhausted; he was still sleeping as little and as bad as bad as before. That's why he had decided to upgrade as much as possible his personal and protective cocoon, that he wanted to be able to make entirely hermetic on his command. But, for goodness' sake, he was so sleepy!

He was testing the prototype when he got a call from a very-not-dead Peter Parker. As usual, his heart began beating furiously, fearing that something had happened to the boy, but he shut down his imagination, apparently way too overflowing since the last months, and picked up the call.

"Good afternoon, Mister Stark!" The adolescent exclaimed loudly from the other side of the phone line. "No, it should rather be 'good evening' actually. It's great to be able to speak to you. Could I join you to the compound?"

"It's not that I don't appreciate your company, kid, but… Is there a special reason for this?"

"Remember when you asked me to tell you if I were to encounter something weird? I'd like to explain to you face-to-face, if you don't mind."

"… I'm sending Happy to pick you up immediately."

Half an hour later, the young man barged in the living room Tony was currently in, followed by Happy. The billionaire thanked his old friend, who greeted him with a wave of the and a grin before leaving. He made sure to breathe deeply and turned to Peter. The two of them sat up side to side in a sofa.

"Tell me everything," he ordered.

"It may be a mistake, because honestly it lasted like only for a second and I was swinging in the air during my patrol and- sorry, I'm ranting again. I think I saw Captain America and Black Widow. Not in their signature suits, okay, but dressed up like civilians. I'm almost a hundred percent sure it was them."

"How did you know it was them?"

"Actually, I mainly recognized Mister Rogers. By the way, I'm wondering how the other people didn't recognize him. He was sitting at a café terrace, so, obviously, I also looked at the person sitting and chatting with him. I think it was Mrs Romanoff."

Tony sighed, and took his head between his hands, massaging his temples as if to chase an oncoming headache. He glanced at his protégé, who was looking at him anxiously.

"Thank you," the inventor said to him as he posed his hand on the teen's shoulder. "Thank you for telling me."

"I promised," Peter answered, shrugging.

"Precisely. You kept your promise. Thank you for that."

The youngest bit his lip, uncomfortable, and seemed to be constantly shifting on the sofa. He briefly lowered his eyes before staring at his mentor.

"Are you going to arrest them?" He asked suddenly.

The forty-year-old man blinked, not instantly understanding the question. Then he did, and pure horror appeared on his face.

"No no no, no, I don't want to- I don't want to arrest them," he stammered uncharacteristically, before clearing his throat in an attempt to regain control of his voice. "It was never my intention. It's just that.. Listen, don't tell anybody what I'm about to tell you, alright?"

"I promise," Peter nodded.

"Not even your aunt."

"Not even my aunt," the boy parroted, trying to reassure the mechanic.

"I saw Captain America like, what, a month ago? He was shopping, like me, and our eyes met. I was thinking that maybe the other rogues were also with him, and I got worried."

"You were wondering that they were doing in New York."

"Exactly."

"So you asked me to keep an eye on what was happening in the streets."

"Yes."

"Because you were worried."

"What are you getting at, kid?"

But the teenager didn't answer right away. Instead, a huge smile appeared on his face and he breathed deeply, visibly more relaxed than a few minutes ago. He revealed:

"I was afraid you wanted to arrest them. I mean, I know that's what we're supposed to do, and, as a super-hero, I should want to stop them but… They, you saved us together. They made mistakes, but the Avengers are heroes, not criminals. And these Accords can really be unfair."

Tony tried with all his strength not to look too surprised. He didn't know what was astonishing him the most: the fact that Peter found the Accords unfair (not that he was wrong about that), or the fact that he thought the other Avengers had made mistakes without also accusing him. He shook his head, forcing a grin, and retorted:

"Oh, because you're considering yourself as a super-hero? When you still need a baby-sitter?"

"Wha-what?! But… but I don't have a baby-sitter, Mister Stark, and I absolutely don't need one!" Peter exclaimed, embarrassed and slightly outraged.

"What do you think I created Karen for, then?"

Oh, he could have a little fun, after all. He definitely wasn't feeling sleepy anymore, and loved to get on his intern's nerves. He snorted as he observed Peter stuttering, as red as a beet, while trying to explain himself.

"Karen helps me, I'll give you that, but she isn't my baby-sitter! By the way, if Ned hadn't hacked into the Baby-Wheels protocol, she wouldn't be there today, you know! You-" he stopped talking, seeing his mentor cracking up with laughter. "You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?"

What he liked the best, actually, was the fact that, in spite of the admiration Peter had for the Avengers, even for the rogue ones, the boy had trusted him and kept his promise.

Tony frowned. He was beginning to really get attached to the kid, and now it was too late to go back. He kept listening to his protégé's babbling, amused.

"What do you think they're doing in New York, Mister Stark?"

"I have no idea. And I don't think I want to know."

"Which means you're going to investigate, right?"

"Obviously."

"So… can I call you Inspector Gadget?"

"Don't even think about it."

That kid wasn't a random kid. It was Peter, and, for him, Tony was ready to make an effort for the Avengers.

000

His whole surroundings changed from an extreme to another. In a matter of seconds (ha, it wasn't like there was matter around him anymore, except for his armor, but even in his situation he still found a way to make a stupid joke), light was replaced by darkness, the deafening noise in his ears by the most absolute silence, and if a couple of seconds ago he was in a place he was familiar with, now he was lost in a foreign, and hostile environment. And the spaceship, enormous and grim, seemed to be floating in front of him, while these snakes-like monsters were coming and going around his powerless body.

He let the missile go. Everything caught fire, and he began to fall, fall, fall...

Tony jumped out of his bed, panting loudly. He was suffocating, he couldn't breathe, his lungs were burning, his vision blurred by the tears flooding his face and-

"Breathe deeply and take your pulse, Sir," F.R.I.D.A.Y intervened, a true wall of calm and serenity.

He did his best to obey, and placed two fingers in the crook of his neck to feel the erratic beating of his distraught heart. It had the effect of an anchor, an anchor that maintained him to reality, held him on firm ground. He stayed several minutes in this position, which wasn't enough to calm him completely but at least let him regain control of his body.

"Thanks, F.R.I.D.A.Y. I'm going to the workshop," he announced.

The artificial intelligence didn't answer, but when he arrived to his favorite place, the lights were already on, and he was welcomed by a joyful Dum-E, which made him smile despite himself.

"Hey, you" the mechanic mumbled fondly to the robot.

The machine chirped happily. Tony stretched, wondering what he could work on.

"What time is it?"

"It is currently eleven and forty-six in the night, Sir."

"I see. Any suggestion?"

"You could re-caliber the weights of the two gauntlets. During your last utilisation of the Iron Man armor, you complained that, because of an upgrade of the right propeller, this gauntlet were lighter than the other, which unbalanced you."

"Just say that I'm always complaining," the forty-year-old joked.

"It wasn't my intention, Sir," F.R.I.D.A.Y answered seriously.

He rolled his eyes, dismantled the metallic arms of his suit and began to work. It was actually quite simple, because he only had to add a few components in the other propeller and the two gauntlets were quickly of the same weight, without a milligram of difference. Now he wasn't busy anymore, he felt his respiration get stuck in his throat, and the remnants of his nightmares were coming back into his mind. He instantly asked his artificial friend:

"By any chance, do you have something interesting to tell me?"

"Mister Parker is currently fighting," the robotic voice answered after a short but hesitant silence.

"Is he doing okay? Is he hurt?"

"According to Karen, he didn't get any injury. But his opponent is in possession of a strange weapon, that they are trying to analyze."

F.R.I.D.A.Y got silent again for a few moments, and Tony stayed concentrated, ready to jump in his suit to join the teenager if he needed him, and the android added:

"Karen told me that Mister Parker wanted to warn you that this weapon was maybe of alien origin."

At these words, he frowned, and a bad feeling nested in his mind while an awful taste filled his mouth.

"What does this weapon look like?"

A couple of seconds elapsed.

"According to Mister Parker and Karen's description, this weapon is strongly similar to the Chitauri weapons used by Adrian Toomes and his team- Sir! Peter was hit! Communications got interrupted!" F.R.I.D.A.Y suddenly exclaimed, alarmed.

"What? Give me his vitals immediately, and get my suit ready!"

"I… I don't get any information from Karen anymore."

"Take me to his last known location, NOW!"

He had never flown so quickly and being so afraid. The landscape was blurred, erased by the speed of his suit, and while F.R.I.D.A.Y was desperately trying to get anything from Peter's artificial intelligence, he was freaking out. This couldn't happen, right? Not to Peter. He had probably found a way to pull through. He was smart, resourceful, bright. He couldn't be...

Tony stopped in his tracks, refusing to finish this thought, and wanted to shout in frustration. Why was he so slow? Why couldn't he protect the people important to him? Why, why, why?

He landed at the last place F.R.I.D.A.Y had been able to locate the young boy. He felt despair and dread fill his body when he understood the street he was in was entirely empty. There wasn't a soul in this place; only trash cans, a ground scattered with rubbish, defective lamps, but there wasn't any spider-kid in sight.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y, do a scan to look out for any sign of life," the frantic billionaire ordered. "Even if it means detecting a simple roach, got it? Spider-Man, are you here? SPIDER-MAN!"

"Sir," the artificial intelligence intervened, "a human silhouette is close to us and appears to be approaching quickly."

She was right. A few seconds later, a couple of seconds that seemed to last for an eternity, he saw Peter who, dressed up in his civil persona, was rushing towards him, looking more than relieved.

"Mister Stark!" He cried out, obviously overjoyed to see him. "I didn't-"

He was stopped in his tracks by Tony who, having (hopefully) rushed out of his armor, had literally tackled him, trapping his in a tight embrace. Slightly confused and embarrassed at the beginning, he then returned the hug and placed his arms around his mentor, feeling that the latter was struggling to calm down.

"Mister Stark?" He asked shyly.

"You're okay," the inventor articulated with a raspy voice.

It was both a question and an affirmation.

"I'm fine," the boy confirmed.

"Good."

The adult finally grudgingly released the teenager, but not entirely. He kept holding him at arms' length to look at him, trying to spot any injury or sign that would prove the other super-hero was in need of medical care. When he didn't see anything, he sighed, master of his breath at last.

"Tell me what happened. Was it because of the weapon you were talking about that the communications were cut?"

"Yes," Peter asserted. "This weapon, it… I'm so sorry, it's my fault, if only I had paid more attention!"

"Goodness, Underoos, calm down and explain. What did it do?"

"Well, when it hit me, it… it made my suit melt."

"Melt?"

"Yes. It was a sort of rifle, and the bullets it shot were probably made of something like acid. I didn't manage to dodge them all, so one of the bullet hit me, exploded against my suit, and my sixth sense started going crazy, so I got away and removed my suit as fast as I could. I think it was a good idea. I mean, the costume… it's only a heap of burnt and fuming fabric now. I'm sorry, Mister Stark. I know I should have taken better care of it."

"What about the guy that attacked you?"

"He probably ran away, Mister Stark. I'm sorry I couldn't stop him. So, while waiting for you, I got my backpack and dressed in my normal attire."

"Stop saying sorry, would you? You're okay, and it's the only thing that matters."

He was constantly saying mentally these words again and again, because his still scared mind was not sure yet it was really Peter in front of him, alive and healthy. He added:

"We'll find him, you can be sure of that. And I'll make you another suit, it's not a problem, and it will never be one."

"But," his protégé hesitated, "What about Karen? It's my fault if she… if she was destroyed."

"If I were you, I wouldn't worry too much. Karen's smart, after all that's her reason to be, and don't forget that I am the one that programmed her. She probably had time to redirect herself on one of F.R.I.D.A.Y's networks before your suit entirely disintegrated.

"Oh, I see. It's good, then. I was scared for her."

"Well, now you know."

"Yeah."

"What about you show me what's left of your suit? We should be able to take samples and analyze them to determine the components of the bullets."

"But if it is truly an alien weapon, won't it be hard to identify the components?"

"We've been in contact with aliens in the past, so maybe we'll be able to compare with another weapon."

"Ah."

Peter guided him to the crime scene, and Tony observed that the boy's description was quite exact. The only thing left from the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man suit was a pitiful bunch of suspect matter. An acrid and unpleasant odor was emerging from the former suit, so the mechanic tried not to inhale it too much. He whistled, impressed.

"It's a good thing you got out of your suit in time. Even with your enhanced healing abilities, I wouldn't have given you much of a chance. I would have had to send your aunt flowers again," the billionaire joked, trying to lighten the serious mood floating in the night.

"That's exactly what I was thinking. I believe she really appreciated the flowers she had received from you the time I got a cut at my arm."

"I'll keep that in mind. Maybe I should send her a bouquet right now, don't you think? She may get angry when she'll learn what happened to your suit… and when she'll imagine what could have happened to you."

He tried to repress a shiver.

"But you're the lucky one," Peter smiled, "because you can lock yourself at the compound, in your workshop. It's surely one of the safest places in the world. But I'll be obligated to get home, one day. And May will be here, waiting for me with a terrifying calm. I swear, Mister Stark, when she's angry, she's awfully silent, but it's even scarier that the best horror film you can think of."

"I believe you, kid. Sorry, but this time you're on your own. I can do with aliens, but I definitely can't win against your aunt. It's too much for me."

They didn't say anything for a while, enjoying the warm air and light breeze, then the young boy resumed, serious again:

"That rifle… It's unsafe, and in the hands of someone that could be even more dangerous. I thought for sure that we had got all the alien weapons back."

"We'll make sure to make it true, as soon as possible, and we'll ensure it stays that way."

He stopped talking, noticing the teenager's haggard look. He hesitated at first, but then placed a hand on his shoulder in a comforting way, and scrutinized him. The latter shrugged and bit his lips, nervous. He explained:

"I'm sorry, it's just that… I just realized that I could have..."

He paused, and replaced the end of his phrase by a gesture of the hand, designating what was left of his super-hero suit. Tony felt his heart break, instantly understanding what his apprentice meant.

"Hey," he whispered softly.

And that was the only warning he let out before his arms surrounded the teen once again to hold him against his chest. Peter didn't protest, and placed his head in Tony's crook of the neck, seeking warmth and comfort. They stayed this way for a long time, and only the friendly moon witnessed their affectionate hug.

"You know, the traffic control officer post is still available for you."

"No, thank you, Mister Stark," the kid snorted.

Being a Stark had a lot of advantages, that's was Tony tried to remember when he was attempting to cheer himself up.

But at least, when he couldn't manage to, Peter was there and never failed.

-000-

Yay! I did it! How was it?

I loved writing this chapter… but my favorite part was the hug. I had to write a hug for this story, so here it is!

I hope you liked this chapter, I think the next one will be the last (not sure yet!). But, if this is my first story, it certainly won't be the last! I love Tony and Peter way too much to stop now.

I also hope I didn't make too many mistakes! Feel free to comment and tell me what I could improve, that would be really kind of you!

Thanks again for the lovely reviews I got for the first chapter!

See you soon!