Part Ten: Resigned Decision

                                    

                                          

Cold nipped at Tony's appendages, annoying him into consciousness. With a huff, he looked down to see a small scrap of fabric covering not even half his body. Following the rest of the blanket, his eyes landed on Pepper, snuggled in a pile of warmth, the fabric tucked around her. For a moment, Tony contemplated tugging back his half of the covers then pretending to be asleep when she would inevitably wake up, but decided against it seeing her peaceful face. 
Rolling his eyes, Tony rolled out of bed, quietly making his way out into the hall. Tugging open the linen closet, he was met with empty shelves. With a heavy sigh, Tony resentfully decided to make his way down the stairs and to the laundry room, where, last night, he had conveniently forgotten to empty the dryer. With all the blankets in it. Of course. 
Creeping as quietly as he could, Tony made his way downstairs, eying the door to the laundry room. He paused, seeing faint light streaming from a crack in the TV room's door. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Tony padded to the door and gently pushed it open. Peeking inside he was met with the words 'are you still watching?' shining from the TV screen. A faint grey glow washed across the room. Entering, Stark's eyes landed on a petit frame tucked into a ball on the couch. Peter laid fast asleep against the cool black leather with a fuzzy blanket draped over him. Dark brown curls fell neatly across his eyelids as his mouth hung slightly open, chest slowly rising and falling as he breathed. Tony noticed a faint trail of drool running down his chin. An amused smile played on Tony's lips at the sight.
Padding over on silent feet, Stark knelt beside the couch, analyzing Peter. Tony hadn't realized how sickly Peter looked during the day until now. Snuggled up on the couch, he looked utterly peaceful - not a shred of worry in his expression.
That - and he looked adorable.
Tony swept the hair out of the kid's face and tucked it behind his ear. He loved the kid so much. It wasn't fair that Peter had endured so much. He was so young and full of promise - he deserved the world. He deserved to have his mother and father, uncle and aunt. Anyone.
Tony sighed quietly and pinched the bridge of his nose.
He loved Peter like he was his own son, so, to him, Peter was his family. But he knew Peter didn't feel the same way. Not entirely at least. Yes Peter felt close to Tony, but Tony knew that the two of them viewed family in different ways. To Stark, family was whoever he cared for - which was few people, but to the kid, family was whomever he was related to - everyone else was just a 'friend' and nothing more. Peter would never accept the Starks -  Tony  - as his family. It hurt like hell to know that the kid was waking up every day thinking that he had no one. Tony wished, prayed, hoped to God that one day Peter would see the family knelt right in front of him now.
Tony took a deep breath and wiped the mist away from his eyes. Standing, he tucked the blanket around Peter and walked to the door. Pausing once to look back at the sleeping boy, he exited the room turning out the light and gently shutting the door.
. . . 
The world was a haze.
He stumbled and crashed into the accent table. An array of decorations, including a vase went crashing to the ground. The sharp shattering sound blended with the lights, swirling into a sickening mixture. All the colours were neon and floating across his vision. Everything was distorted, twisting and swirling. His vision lagged behind his eyes and his mind was like puddy. Sticky and unable to keep a stable shape. It felt like it was slowly falling apart, piece by piece tearing away from the lifeless lump. 
He couldn't walk, shambling aimlessly down the hall. His feet barely kept him moving. His legs gave out and he fell hard to his knees. His mind buffered, struggling to keep up with the present. Reality was distorted, twisting, spinning, fading in and out... in and out... and in... and...