Notice: I will be trying to do NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month), which is where you try to write 50,000 words in the month of November. I will be working on a personal novel, so my fanfiction here will be getting backburnered. I'll either be updating very sparingly and with short chapters, or I won't be posting at all until December. (Or I'll give up on NaNo and be back early ;p) But I will be back!

Shoutout to Teresa: Thank you for your kind words, I'm glad you're enjoying the story!

Tony crossed his arms, "You know I could just have FRIDAY call Peter back. Or turn off the suit."

I stood up, crossing my own arms, "I know. But you won't. This is between us. None of it is his fault."

"Isn't it? He should have made you stay at the tower."

"He's my friend. Not my babysitter. Not my keeper. Certainly not my guard. I am not his responsibility. He had no obligation to watch over me tonight. But because he is my friend and he cares about me, and he happens to be Spiderman, when I told him there was no way he could prevent me from leaving, he came with me so he could help keep me safe if needed—which wasn't needed, just gonna point that out."

Tony's expression darkened. "Fine. I'll leave Peter out of this one. But you still need to account for your behaviour, young lady."

I shrugged, "I know."

One of his eyebrows lifted, a look of surprise flashing through his eyes, "You're not going to argue your own innocence?"

I laughed, "Please, I'm not an idiot. I left the tower, at night, without directly informing you. I knew there would be consequences… I just didn't overly care. I was too busy fee— I just didn't care."

His eyes narrowed, "You were going to say something else there. What were you too busy with? What could have been more important than your safety?"

I pursed my lips shut and shrugged.

He sighed, running a gauntlet-covered hand through his hair. "Does it have anything to do with what you said on the phone before hanging up on me?"

Surprised by the sudden prick of tears in my eyes, I turned away from him, looking back towards the lights of Times Square. I gave a quick jerky nod.

He sighed again, "I think we need to have a talk. But maybe this isn't the place. Will you let me fly you back to the tower—or do I need to brave the hordes and walk you back? Then we can talk there, over a cup of hot chocolate?"

I thought for a moment, discreetly wiping my eyes before turning back to him. "Fine."

He gave me a quick studied glance before the mask re-covered his face, and he held his arms out to me. "Hop on the dad express."

I rolled my eyes, stepping into his arms and holding on. His arms wrapped around me as the feet propulsors kicked on, and we blasted off into the sky. I screwed my eyes shut, squeezing tighter to dad's armor, feeling him tighten his grip on me in return. Trying to ignore the feeling of my stomach having been left behind and the wind rushing against my exposed and oh-too-fragile body, I focused on remembering to breathe—and on not throwing up.

Finally, what felt like years later (though had probably only been a few minutes at most), we landed on an upper balcony of Stark Tower that led into our private penthouse. I stumbled out of dad's arms and crouched down to the ground, mumbling, "So much worse than a plane, SO MUCH WORSE THAN A PLANE."

He stepped out of the suit, crouching down next to me, placing his hand gently on my back, "You good?"

"Swell."

He chuckled, "Come on, let's go inside and I'll make that hot chocolate."

"And yell at me."

"How could I yell at you when you look so pathetic? Now up and at 'em, c'mon."

He stood up, strolling off into the building as his suit dissolved away. I groaned and stood up, following him. The penthouse was dark and quiet, the light from the kitchen bleeding out into the room around it. I settled down into a bar stool, resting my chin in my hands as I watched Dad prepare our drinks.

"Is Pepper here tonight?"

"Yep. Another reason for no yelling because she was heading to bed when I left. And I don't know about you, but I'd rather not make her mad."

I shivered at the thought, "Sounds like a plan."

He passed me a mug, spraying some whipped cream on the top. "Did you want to sit here or over on the couch to talk?"

I gave him a hopeful glance, feigning a yawn, "Maybe we can just do this tomorrow?"

He rolled his eyes, "Not a chance. You're not Cinderella, you didn't expire at midnight."

"Yes, I did. Now you're just talking to a pumpkin."

He laughed, "Well, as long as we're talking, I don't care if you're the princess or the pumpkin. So, which'll it be, couch or kitchen?"

I sighed, "Couch I guess."

"Good choice, Pumpkin." And he strolled over to the couch, sitting down and patting the empty spot next to him.

I reluctantly went over to join him. He took a sip from his mug, leaning back as he stared at me with an expectant expression.

When it was clear I wasn't going to be forthcoming, he sighed and began, "So. You wanted to spend New Year's Eve together?"

I nodded sheepishly, "It was always a family thing… I just kinda presumed it would be the same way here…but Peter pointed out that you have different social obligations and different traditions for tonight…and I shouldn't have presumed you'd have the same viewpoint as me."

His brow furrowed, "While Peter certainly does have a point, you weren't entirely wrong either. You're my daughter. You're one of the most important people in my life. We're still hitting all the new landmark events for the first time. I should have thought to ask if you had any expectations or wishes for it. Scratch that, I should have had the idea myself of including you in my plans somehow."

"Yeah, but if it was never a part of your life—"

"I'm the parent. This one was my responsibility."

He clasped my hands in his, "I'm sorry, Y/N. Truly."

I gave him a small smile, "Okay."

He sighed, letting me go as his head fell to the back of the couch. He ran a hand over his face, "I just wanted to be a better dad for you than Howard was…this was not a great showing."

I leaned my head on his shoulder, "Did Howard ever recognize or apologize for his mistakes?"

He peaked out at me through his fingers. "Not really, no."

I grinned up at my dad, "Then you're definitely better." I squeezed his arm, resettling my head into his shoulder, "I'm happy I found you. You've been a pretty great dad so far."

He shifted his arm to wrap around me, tugging me close, "I'm happy you found me too. And thanks, Pumpkin."

I huffed, "That's not going away anytime soon, is it?"

He laughed and tapped my nose, "Not a chance."

I sat up to re-grab my hot chocolate, then snuggled back against dad as I sipped on it.

He grabbed his mug too, taking a sip before exhaling. "There's something else I should probably tell you about."

I gave him a questioning glance upwards.

He tapped my nose again, a grin crossing his face before it settled into a more serious expression. "When we were talking this afternoon, about the party and the alcohol. You mentioned having to carry me to bed—"

"Dad, I was just joking—"

"I know, Pumpkin, but the thing is, a few years ago, that may have been a spot-on assessment."

"What do you mean?"

"Well… I told you before that when I was younger I wasn't really big on responsibility and I did a lot of partying, and that was a large part of my life for many years. And with that came a lot of drinking… I went up and down a lot with a drinking problem…I'm ashamed to say I was an alcoholic, just like my father was. It wasn't until becoming Iron Man, and being with Pepper—especially, the being with Pepper— that I really started taking the steps to distance myself from that behaviour. I got sober, and I've been sober now for just over a year…and I'm going to do my best to stay sober. Especially now that I have another major reason for doing so." He gave me a brief meaningful look before staring back down into his mug. "So yeah. That's something I thought you should know. And it's something I want you to keep in mind anytime someone offers you a drink, because the last thing I want is for you to take on that curse because of me…"

I gave a shaky exhale. Oh wow. That was some heavy information for 1 a.m. I leaned closer into Tony, "Thanks for telling me, dad."

He nodded silently, still staring into his drink.

I frowned and shifted to a more sitting-up position so I could look at him. "I'm proud of you, you know. Alcoholism isn't easy to deal with. And you've managed to get sober and stay sober for this long." I took his hand in mine, repeating, "I'm proud to call you my dad."

He smiled softly at me. "Thanks, Pumpkin."

I smiled back, then ruined the moment with a yawn, covering my mouth as I looked at dad sheepishly.

He laughed, "Time for bed?"

I nodded. "Definitely."

A fatherly gleam entered his eye, "Do you want to walk, or you want a ride?"

I grinned at him, lifting my arms towards him, "Ride please."

He chuckled, and stood up, bending down to lift me up, my arms going around his neck as he carried me through the halls to my bedroom, dropping me in my bed and placing a small kiss on my forehead.

"Goodnight, Pumpkin, love you."

I smiled sleepily at him, "Goodnight dad, love you too."

He closed the door softly behind him, and I forced myself back up, quickly brushing my teeth and changing into my pajamas before crawling back into bed and promptly falling asleep.