You’d been pacing the living room for hours. The TV was on, but you weren’t watching it. The news had stopped talking about the rescue. The car was late. Maybe something went wrong again. Maybe-

The front door opened, interrupting your overthinking.

You turned so fast you almost tripped over the couch.

There he was.

Tony Stark. Your dad.

He looked… rough. Thinner. His face had cuts. His eyes were tired, like he hadn’t slept in weeks. But he was standing. Breathing. Alive.

His gaze swept the room, his sharp, calculating eyes scanning like they always did, as if he was still there with danger all around, until they landed on you.

For a second, neither of you moved. Your breath caught. So did his.

“Dad?” Your voice broke as you said it.

Tony blinked. “Hey, kiddo,” he said hoarsely, trying for a grin. It didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You didn’t say anything. Neither did he. And then you ran to him. You slammed into his chest so hard you almost knocked him off balance. You wrapped your arms around him and didn’t let go.

For a second, he just stood there. Still. Like he didn’t know what to do.

Then he slowly hugged you back.

“Hey, hey,” he whispered, his voice a little shaky. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

You couldn’t hold it anymore. Tears started falling, fast and hot. “I thought you were dead,” you said into his shoulder. “I thought I lost you.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “I know.”

You clung to him like you were still afraid he might disappear. “They kept saying maybe they wouldn’t find you. I didn’t know what to do.”

His hand rested on the back of your head, gentle and unsure. “I didn’t think… I didn’t know you cared that much. With you know... me always being absent." He rocked you soothingly, like he used to when you were little. “I’m sorry,” he said. “For everything before. For not being… better," his own voice cracked with regret and shame.