A/N: Here we are, folks! At the beginning of an entirely new story. Are you guys excited? I hope you're excited.

DISCLAIMER: MUAH-HAH-HAA! Yeah, right… Like I'd EVER have enough money to own anything but a bunch of DVDs and figurines. And nope, no profit made of this.

WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF CHILD ABUSE AND DOMESTIC ABUSE, adult themes, some coarse language… This WILL NOT be a smooth ride. BUT, fret not, everyone we care about WILL live through it. (Just felt the need to reassure you…)

Okay… It's ALWAYS nerve-wrecking to start a new story. So best just bite the bullet. I REALLY hope that you'll enjoy the ride!

Home for Christmas

The First Collision

Billionaire playboy Tony Stark was having a really, seriously, appallingly horrible day. He was nursing the mother of all hangovers and the gloominess from his latest fight with his ex-girlfriend Pepper Potts. (Weren't those fights supposed to end with their relationship? Well, he shouldn't have gotten together with a coworker. Some genius he was…) He honestly couldn't tell which… inconvenience was a bigger factor in the violently pulsating headache he had. He couldn't do a whole lot of thinking, period. Not until he'd get his hands on the biggest and strongest mug of coffee New York had to offer. The last thing he expected was that the day could actually get worse.

Tony's sullen train of thought came to a violent halt when he jerked forward on his seat as his driver, Happy Hogan, slammed the breaks. It was a tight competition which one of them cursed louder. The billionaire felt his blood run cold at the sickening thump of something hitting the vehicle.

The profane string of words leaving Happy was barely comprehensible. "He… He came out of nowhere, I swear…!" His driver had never, ever been so pale and wide-eyed. Under different circumstances it might've been comical. "I didn't see him…!"

Tony wasn't listening. Still feeling unnaturally cold, he dashed out of the car to see just how messed up things would get. His heart, which most people assumed didn't exist, skipped a beat at what awaited him.

A little boy with dirty face and overgrown, greasy brown hair had fallen to the pavement, and was currently crying inconsolably while cradling his left arm. There was a hint of snot and blood under the child's nose and he was trembling pitiably from pain, cold and shock. The boy's clearly injured limb worked desperately to hold on to a hideous, definitely unsanitary teddy bear the kid should've been too old for. Tony had hard time estimating the child's exact age, mainly because of his… limited experience with kids. (Which he wasn't planning on expanding, thank you very much.) Seven, or small for his age? The boy's entirely too thin clothes were as filthy as his face and had gotten too small long ago. The child's eyes were wide, glazed over and full of tears. It took Tony an embarrassing amount of time to realize that they were locked on a sandwich that'd been squashed by the car's tire. (Wasn't the kid supposed to feel lucky and relieved that he hadn't been squashed as well?) The boy's body was even thinner than his clothes. It must've been ages from his last proper meal. The whole sight was so damned miserable that the billionaire felt an unwanted twinge of ache and sympathy.

Tony approached slowly, his hands revealed in a probably hilarious placating gesture. He didn't know a damned thing about children. But he had enough common sense to put together that this one was scared and hurting. The last thing his pounding head needed was triggering more tears or panic. "Kid?" he inquired uncharacteristically cautiously. (This was like walking across a minefield…) "Are you… okay?" The boy whimpered and tried to wrap both arms around himself, only to whimper again from agony. "Sorry, stupid question." (Way to go, genius, a bitter voice sneered in his head.) "I can see that you hurt your arm. What else hurts?" Please don't tell me that he's dying, he mentally pleaded whatever or whoever was listening.

The kid sniveled. Those eyes were still hazy but they peered cautiously towards him before looking away again. (A new emotion just showed itself. Embarrassment. Downright self-loathing, on the face of a little boy.) "Back. And head. Arm's the worst, though." The words were barely audible. The child tried to wipe away his tears but more came immediately. "I… I'm sorry… I wasn't looking…!" The rest was unintelligible.

"You seriously need to learn to be more careful with traffic. This is New York! Do you want to get squashed like that sandwich?" Tony didn't mean to sound as sharp and accusative as he did. He regretted the tone the second the boy shrunk into himself, sheer terror making the already blanched face somehow pale further. The billionaire berated himself mentally and took a deep breath. "Now's not the time for lectures, right? We've gotta get you to a hospital."

"You're not taking that piece of shit anywhere before he pays me!" a new voice snarled. Loud and hostile enough to startle them both. Tony was fairly sure that the only thing keeping the boy from running away was paralyzing shock. The child's current condition didn't seem to faze the arrival much. "The brat had the nerve to steal from me. He needs to be taught a lesson!"

Tony kept his eyes on the little boy, who'd very clearly only taken that stupid sandwich to satisfy a desperate hunger. And his temper boiled. "You know what?" He turned a venomous pair of eyes to find a fat, tall man who looked distinctly like a rat. "Thank you, for your touching amount of concern for this child. How about I take care of scolding him after he's gotten proper medical care?" He tossed a twenty-dollar note at the disgruntled store-owner. "Maybe this helps with your hurt feelings."

The man muttered loudly and heatedly. But accepted the money, still glaring at the boy. "If I ever see that piece of filth again, I won't be responsible for my actions." With that threat the man stormed back to his store.

The child hadn't dared to breathe since the stranger's arrival. When the threat finally disappeared the boy started gasping, loudly and visibly painfully. The kid wasn't crying anymore but there was still moisture and sadness in his eyes. Along with so much shame that it seemed to nearly drown the child. "Th-thank you", the kid choked out, pointedly not looking towards him. "I know that it's wrong to steal. And stupid. Mom, May and Ben… They taught me so. But… I was so hungry."

Tony sighed heavily. "Hmph." This whole mess wasn't doing his headache any favors. He breathed in and out. "I just bought you a stupidly expensive sandwich. Are you gonna tell me your name?" He aimed for a light, joking tone but didn't quite succeed.

The boy flinched. His good arm squeezed the teddy bear tighter for comfort. "Peter", the boy whispered cautiously. Like giving that information was something dangerous.

Tony nodded slowly. This kid was so jittery…! "And I'm Tony."

"I know." Peter shuddered and hurried to continue, visibly terrified that he'd crossed a line. "I… I mean, your pictures… They're everywhere."

"Right…" Tony wasn't a fan of the fame his fortune brought along. Especially at times like this, when he sat on filthy pavement, in a tailored suit, next to a child his driver hit with a car. He needed coffee. And a painkiller. And a drink. He didn't care in which order he'd get them. Out of the pair of them he wasn't the one feeling more uncomfortable, though. "Look, I meant what I said earlier about the hospital. Let's go. Happy will take us."

Peter's eyes flew wider. The child shook his head fervently. "No, no…! I'm… I'm okay."

Tony stared at the boy incredulously. "Kid, you've got a broken arm, probably a concussion and who knows what other injuries. You're not okay. And you're going to a hospital, whether you like it or not."

For the first time Peter met his eyes properly, the boy's gaze full of naked despair. (It tugged at the billionaire's heart of cold iron, the man had to admit to himself reluctantly.) "Mr. Stark, please, no…! They'll… They'll find me. I mean, the… social people. And they'll send me away, to another fake-home. I don't want a new fake-home, not anymore. They're not safe!"

So, yeah. Tony seriously didn't have any idea how to proceed. "Are you… talking about social workers? They're supposed to find homes for kids who need them. That's their job. Why would you be scared of them?"

Peter tried to produce speech. And failed. The boy's head fell and shoulders slumped in defeat. The trembling from before worsened while pain intensified.

Tony sighed heavily. Again. (This kid was good at making him do that, it seemed.) "C'mon. Off we go. Let's have a doctor give you a look."

With an aura of dejection Peter struggled up and limped to the car where a still horrified Happy awaited. The second Tony sat down the boy scooted as close to him as humanly possible. The billionaire tensed up automatically as response to the unexpected physical contact. His chest tightened to a point where breathing didn't feel good. (One heck of a moment to teeter on the edge of having a panic attack…) "Sorry, kid. But… Let's not go that far yet."

Peter jumped further as though his close proximity had burned. The sting from the rejection was clearly evident on his shame-filled face. "Sorry, Mr. Stark", the boy murmured.

Tony… didn't know how to respond. All he knew was that somehow those few words succeeded in making him feel like the worst person on the planet. If it wasn't for Happy's frantic questions about the child's wellbeing the silence in the car would've been suffocating.

Peter didn't speak a single word more during the ride to the hospital. Tony's intention was to leave as soon as he'd handed his unwanted and unexpected charge to the capable hands of medical professionals. But he found himself waiting, Happy faithfully by his side. He told himself that he did so purely out of guilt.

Eventually a nurse took pity on him, or maybe she grew tired of his constant pacing and lingering looks. She whispered to him that Peter would be perfectly fine, given some time. The child sported a couple of broken bones, a mild concussion and a lot of deep bruising, and was lucky to not have it far worse. A couple of days at the hospital should be enough.

Peter's future was a far more complicated matter. Understandably a social worker had to be called in. She introduced herself curtly as Maria Hill before disappearing to have a talk with the medical personnel and the child. After roughly two hours Tony and Happy got sick of waiting. Following a lucky hunch, they made it to an otherwise empty hallway just in time to catch Maria, a nurse and a doctor talking. "… on the streets for six months …"

Tony felt his blood boil at that information. "What? How the hell can a child end up to the streets for that long?" Didn't his school notice or care? Didn't anyone care?

Maria gave him a dark look. "You'd be surprised. The system is so full of holes and flaws that it's criminally easy to slip through." She shook her head in disgust and frustration. "Short version? The social services failed him. But we'll do better, now."

Tony was glad that the kid would be okay and looked after, of course. But he couldn't shake away the vague squirming of unease in the pit of his stomach. Happy seemed to experience something similar. "You'll… find him a new home, right?" Happy didn't have a paternal bone in his body. And it'd already been announced by the police that there'd be no charges because what happened was obviously an accident. (Tony kept the knowledge of Peter's theft to himself.) But the driver must've felt… responsible. (Tony knew, because so did he.)

Maria didn't quite smile but the look in her eyes revealed that she understood. "We'll make sure that he'll find a safe place to stay. Right now he's getting the treatment he needs and is eating his first proper meal in a long time. This may sound horrible, but… He was lucky to meet you two. Otherwise he might've never made it away from the streets. And… Thank you. I heard that you're paying for his care."

Tony tried to find comfort from those words. He shrugged. "The least I could do, right?" He didn't expect the next words jumping out of his mouth. "Can I see him before we leave?"

The nurse seemed as surprised as he felt. It took a moment before she managed to nod. "Sure. He… did ask about you. I'll show you the way."

Peter had already finished eating what little the child could stomach when Tony entered the room. The boy had been about to fall asleep, his healthy arm cradling the teddy bear lovingly. But the child's eyes widened at the sight of him. "I… I thought you left", Peter sputtered.

"I am about to go soon. I'm already supposed to be at a meeting. But… I wanted to give you something, first." Tony didn't know what prompted the gesture even he hadn't seen coming. But he placed his business card to the table beside the hospital bed. "I know that they'll find you a cool new home. But if you need help, or something… Give me a call." He was almost sure that the child wouldn't. Maybe that was why he dared to leave the card.

Peter stared at the item longingly, surprised. Then chewed the inside of his cheek, obviously gathering courage. "Mr. Stark?"

Tony still had a headache and he was late. Which was why he sounded so irritable that he regretted it instantly. (Not that he would've ever admitted as much.) "Yeah?"

The words Peter wanted to say were loud and clear in the boy's eyes. ('Please don't go.' 'Take me with you.' 'I'm scared, please stay.' 'Don't leave me here.') But in the end the child swallowed thickly and dropped his gaze. Shoulders slumping. "Just… Bye."

Tony did his best to smile, even if the boy didn't lift his gaze to see it. "Bye, kid. Stay safe." With those words he walked away. Even if it was harder than it was supposed to be.

(He should've known that it wasn't the last time he met Peter.)

Tony and Happy just stepped out of an elevator when the billionaire's phone rang. It was Pepper. "Explain to me why I'm watching a YouTube video of Happy hitting some child with his car."

Tony grimaced, knowing that the bad day was only going to keep getting worse.

TBC

A/N: Oh boy… What a start! Poor little Peter! To imagine someone that heartbreakingly young living on the streets… (winces)

SO… What's the verdict? Any good, at all? Would you be interested to read more? PLEASE, do let me know! Hearing from you SERIOUSLY makes my day, especially when I'm only just starting a new tale. Just… thought I should mention… (whistles innocently)

AS FOR UPDATES: I'll TRY to update twice a week, on Mondays and Thursdays. (There'll be one week when I can only update once due to a holiday trip, though. I'll warn you when that comes.) The story will be otherwise completed by Christmas, but the epilogue will show up shortly after. How does that sound?

Awkay, I seriously need to go catch some sleep. THANK YOU, so much, for reading this first part! I really hope that I'll see you all again at chapter two.

Take care!