"We have to get going."

Everyone looked up at the voice. Natasha kept her gaze on the door as she spoke. "

"Tony-" Steve was cut off by Tony.

"No, Steve. I'm not going to be a deadbeat weight holding you guys down."

"You're not ready," Peter chimed in softly. "If you use your leg before it's healed it'll get worse."

"The food's running out, Pete." Tony squeezed his shoulder. "We need to go."

Clint smiled wryly. "There's not really any way, Tony. None of us can carry you, you know that. We can wait a couple more days."

Tony set his jaw. "No. Leave me if you have to, but this isn't safe for us to stay anymore."

There was a beat of dead silence.

Then-

A burst of voices.

"What the-"

"You think we would-?"

"No way-"

"I won't lose you too!"

The clamor died down at the last voice, and all eyes turned to where Peter was hugging himself, standing against the wall.

"I won't," he repeated softly, lower lip trembling. "I- I can't."

He turned and bounded down the steps.

Clint waved the rest of them back as they started after him. "I'll go. I have- I had kids."

They ignored the slip up.

"I'll go after him," he continued.

He gestured at Tony. "Talk some sense into him before we come back?"

The second Clint was out of earshot, Natasha rounded on Tony angrily. "You blasted blithering idiot!"

He lifted his eyes slowly, too tired to argue. "Nat," he began wearily. "You know I didn't mean it the way it sounded."

Surprised, they noticed that Natasha had tears in her eyes.

"You know I didn't mean it that way," he said cautiously. "You guys can go, and I'll stay and wait to heal. I can protect myself, and the building is well fortified against them. I'll be fine."

Natasha dashed her hand over her eyes, and straightened her shoulders. "I've already lost Yelena. And Nick, and Maria, and Phil. You're the last family I have left, Tony. Don't make me lose you too."

A look of regret crossed Tony's face, and he swallowed quickly. "Yeah, okay. I'll- I'll forget it."

She nodded brusquely. "Good."

Stooping briefly to kiss his cheek, Natasha left in the same direction as Clint and Peter.

Pepper crouched beside Tony, golden-red hair tied back in a messy bun. "Tony, please never say that again."

He smiled briefly, a small tilt of the corner of his mouth. "No promises."

Her eyes narrowed, and he held his hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay. Sorry."

Clint and Natasha came back in at dark, without the teenager, putting his fears to rest by assuring him that Peter was just on lookout, and not alone out in the city.

Guilt still tugged at his heartstrings at the thought of Peter's white face as he had run out.

Sleep wouldn't come.

Stars still showed their beauty, and the night was clear.

For something so beautiful, it was cold.

Impersonal.

The deep blue of night mixed with the last remaining tinges of pink from the sun.

Shot through with gold thread.

A slight creaking broke him from his reverie, and his head lifted to see Peter creeping in, and heading to his small pallet.

"Peter," Tony said softly, almost too softly to hear, but Peter looked up, and in the moonlight, he could see the teen's reddened eyes, and tearstained cheeks. "C'mere."

The teen hesitated, and Tony smiled softly at him. "Not gonna bite, kiddo."

A red flush crept over Peter's face, and he hesitated, but finally moved over, taking each step carefully.

He settled down against the wall, several feet away from Tony, idly playing with a stray rock.

A tinge of hurt tugged at him.

Was the kid really that mad?

It seemed like it.

"Pete... look at me, please."

It didn't work.

Silence fell.

Tony couldn't bear it.

The easy closeness they'd developed, the trust, the affection-

All of it seemed down the drain, and it felt like approaching a skittish animal

One wrong move and the chance would be gone, just like that.

"You know," he began softly. "My father wasn't really the best dad. He was cold. Calculating. He didn't really think of me as his son, just another investment. One that would take over his company later on. And he treated me like it. Never told me he loved me, never even told me he liked me."

He drew a deep breath.

Beside him he could sense Peter coming out of his shell slightly.

"He never wanted me around. Always yelled at me for not being perfect. I built a motor at the age of six. He looked at it once and told me the cover was uneven, and the wiring was faulty."

Blinking rapidly, Tony glanced sideways to find Peter watching him soberly.

"Called me a mistake once. Hit me a couple of times. I always thought just this once, I'd be enough. Just this once, he'd be proud of me."

The words fell from his lips like cold stone.

"He never was."

Inhaling sharply, he rubbed his hands over his eyes briskly. "Jarvis was my butler- my family's butler, and he was the only father figure I ever had. Cared for me when my own father didn't."

He let out a breath. "The point I'm trying to make is that my dad wasn't a good example for what a father- or father figure, should be. I'm trying not to be like him."

He turned to look Peter in the eyes, smile sad, but firm. "I'm sorry. For what I said earlier. It- it sounded bad, but I just want you guys to be safe. For you to be safe. And if that means I stay behind, then that's fine with me."

Peter shook his head slightly, eyes welling up, and then he threw himself at the older man, burying his face in his shoulder, and sobbing.

"Hey, hey- shh it's okay, bud. I'm sorry. I didnt mean to make you upset."

The teenager pressed his face into Tony's neck, breath hot against his skin. "I don't wanna lose you," he sobbed. "You're the only person I have left, and May made me leave, and she-"

A fresh round of sobs broke free, and Tony tightened his hold on the boy. "Okay. I- I won't make you leave, okay? I won't."

When even his assurance didn't stop the sobs shuddering through Peter's body, he tilted his head back against the wall, and just held him.

Peter probably needed the release, he thought tiredly.

He probably hadn't had time to grieve properly.

By the time the tears had stopped, Peter was a warm weight against his chest, eyes drooping, and limbs heavy.

"Just go to sleep, Pete," Tony whispered soothingly. "I'm right here."

He ran his hand over Peter's hair, fingers gently brushing his sweaty bangs away from his forehead. "I'm right here."

A breath rushed out, and Peter slumped further against his chest, cold nose pressing into his neck.

"I'm not leaving you," Tony whispered, resting his head back against the wall again, and closing his eyes. "Not leaving."