Coming Back To You

A Real Homecoming

Peter carefully steps out of the jet, his legs feeling like jelly and his mouth so dry that it hurts to swallow. His small black suitcase is dragged behind him, bumping along the riffs in the ramp and rattling the clothes and other unimportant stuff inside.

He's going to see his Dad today.

It was a long time ago—years—that he had last seen him, had the man hold him close and kiss his head and make everything feel safe.

They had taken the boy right after school, while the other Kindergarteners were shuffling toward their waiting parents, his Dad being among the crowd, laughing with the other adults as he leaned against their parked red car

That was the last time the boy saw him.

Until today.

He had just made it completely off the jet when strong arms wrap around him, pushing his red tinged face against a firm chest. The smell is familiar, a tinge of metal and body spray, the voice whispering his name like a prayer being the same one that tucked him into bed every night for 5 years and motivated him to escape the hell hole he was taken too.

Dad. Daddy.

Finally the dam breaks, tears flowing freely down his face as the boy clutches his father close, feeling the scratch of his goatee against his forehead as Tony kisses him again and again, rocking them back and forth and holding his child so tightly it becomes hard to breathe.

But Peter doesn't care.

Finally the man pulls away, cupping his boy's face in his warm hands and wiping away his tears with his thumbs. His dark eyes are shining in the light of the sun and he smiles softly, tracing the outline of the kid's face with his fingers. The boy reaches up, his hands shaking, grabbing onto his father's and holding tight, not caring how young he looks as he babbles his daddy's name over and over. Raising his fingers up, the man runs them through Peter's hair. Giving into the impulse, the young Stark leans againsts Tony even more, feeling exhaustion finally begin to settle into his bones.

Without a word, the genius lifts Peter up into him arms, taking his still too thin weight easily and Peter clings to him like a small boy, tucking his hot face against his Dad's neck and nuzzling close. The billionaire huffs out a small laugh in response, adjusting his grip on his kid and the boy's suitcase as they slowly make their way to a long, black car waiting a few yards away.

Peter still doesn't know why they took him that day all those years ago. Whether it was for money or revenge, he doesn't think he will ever know. But he is safe now, he is safe and they are dead and gone and he will never have to worry again.

Because he is with his Dad again and his Dad will always keep him safe.