Author's Note: Greetings, fandom! Welcome to my first Iron Man: Armored Adventures fanfic. I am embarrassingly obsessed with this show. I was looking for something for my three year old nephew to watch one day and ended up liking it more than he did. I watched all 52 episodes in the space of a few days.

Then this sort of…happened. I actually started one like it months ago, but my computer wiped it and I had to recreate the whole thing. It all turned out for the best though, because this is the result, and I like it better. It's so hard to find well written fanfiction in this category, especially father/son stories, so here I am, writing my own instead.

I won't keep you. Thanks for clicking that little blue link! You won't regret it. I promise.

Tony Stark had really done it this time.

He winced as he streaked through the air, hand gingerly bracing his side. This wasn't supposed to happen. Not on a run of the mill patrol. He'd promised Rhodey and Pepper he'd keep it simple while they were gone, and he had. He'd been careful. Hadn't he?

A bank robbery in progress. No sweat. What could go wrong?

Famous last words. Seriously, how was he supposed to know one of the guys would have blades precise enough to fit through the rivets in his armor? How was he supposed to know another would rush in at the exact same moment, using the confusion to drive a particularly lethal looking mace into his chest plate? How was he supposed to know someone would toss a handful of dynamite sticks at point blank range straight after, and how was he supposed to know that would be enough force for a piece of his armor to crack?

What the hell were they doing with swords and maces in the first place? Maybe these weapons had special properties designed specifically to hurt him? He just didn't know. How could he?

Oh, right. He was Tony Stark. He was supposed to know. He was supposed to know everything.

Well, this was awkward.

What could go wrong? A lot, apparently. Whoops, sorry guys. Some shady looking people were robbing a bank and apparently, that's supposed to be more life-threatening than the gigantic explosions I've walked away from unscathed. My bad. Sorry. Next time, I'll definitely watch out for the societal reject with the dynamite first.

Oh God, that sounded so bad in his head, he didn't think he'd ever be able to say it out loud. Every time he started to think he was invincible, the world had a nasty habit of kicking him in the face until he remembered he wasn't.

Hmm. On second thought, maybe it served him right.

Tony gritted his teeth as the armor told him he had only 3% power remaining, running through his options as a sudden wave of dizziness swept over him. He was losing blood. Not enough to be lethal, but unless something was done soon, he'd pass out and some poor unfortunate bystander would have to dodge an Iron Man sized comet.

That was not an option. Next.

He didn't have enough juice to make it back to the armory, and even if he did, there would be no one there. Rhodey and Pepper had chosen to use their break from college classes to go on a tropical vacation, so they were halfway across the globe.

He supposed he could fly himself to an emergency room.

A cold chunk of ice lodged itself into his chest at the thought.

No. He would so rather bleed out.

He knew for a fact his dad was still at a meeting until later that night, so the penthouse he shared with him was currently empty. He wouldn't have wanted to walk in there spewing blood all over the place if he knew his dad was home, but with luck he'd be finished long before Howard returned. He wasn't going to lie to him about this whole mess, but that didn't mean he wanted him to see the carnage first hand. The man worried enough about his Iron Man misadventures as it was.

Tony had plenty of medical supplies stockpiled for occasions such as this, and though he was by no means a doctor, he wasn't without knowledge entirely. He'd patch himself up, then collapse into bed and face his father in the morning. He'd done it before, so this wouldn't be the first time.

As far as he was concerned, option number three took the cake. Howard was probably going to kill him when he found out, but he'd deal with the repercussions right after he dug the giant shards of metal out of his side, because wouldn't you know it: they really, really hurt.

Changing direction, Tony circled back around the building he'd just passed and headed for the penthouse. His side throbbed as he moved the wrong way, tugging at the metal in his wound, but he groaned and pushed back the pain, reaching out with extremist to shut off the alarm system when he reached his destination. It was rather high up on a cliff, and he really didn't have the energy to go all the way around to the other side just to use the door. Screw the door. There was a perfectly good window right in front of him.

Praying that it was unlocked, he pushed aside the glass and inwardly cheered when it moved, doing the same with the screen and carefully swinging his legs up. He gasped and nearly doubled over as he stood, shifting to take some of the pressure off his injured side.

Woo. He was dizzier on the ground than he'd been in the air. His thoughts were feeling sluggish too, and his motor skills had been reduced to that of a three year old. The pain was terrible now, crashing over him in waves. Maybe this was a bad idea.

Too late. He was already here, and out of power to boot.

Tony retracted the faceplate and ripped his helmet off with his right arm, left still clutching his side in an attempt to keep the chest plate from moving and causing further damage. He limped his way through the living room and down the hallway where the bathroom was, carefully retracting the gauntlets and grieves, and without preamble, the pieces of his armor clattered to the floor.

The only thing he couldn't remove yet was the chest plate. A few pieces of the metal trapped in his wound were still attached to the armor itself. He'd have to sever those connections first.

Oh joy.

Collapsing heavily onto the tile, he dug in the cupboard under the sink for the first aid supplies he kept stashed there. Crap. He really hoped there were some clippers here too, because if not, he'd have to drag himself to his room and back, and that would just suck. At present, Tony would be completely content to lie on the bathroom floor for the rest of his life.

Okay; first things first. Get those pieces clipped from the chest plate. Slowly, painfully, he lifted his left arm as high as he could manage, then rested it against the counter above him, craning his neck around to get a good look at the wounds. He hissed at the sight.

A jagged hole about half the size of his forearm extended from where his ribcage ended, to his hip bone; the armor had splintered into two large pieces, and though they weren't sticking straight out, they'd managed to lodge themselves into his flesh at a rather awkward angle. Silently, he thanked his lucky stars that they hadn't shifted a few inches further and speared him straight on. If that had happened, his vital organs would have been in jeopardy.

Judging from how much of the metal he couldn't see, he'd say the wounds were at least a quarter of an inch deep, and one of them in particular was long enough to be worrisome; about the length of his pinky finger. What he could see of his flesh under the plates was several ugly shades of red and purple, and blood ran in rivulets down his side, staining his jeans a deep crimson.

He'd been wrong before. Only one of the two pieces was still attached to the armor. Quickly, he picked up the clippers that, thankfully, had been with the rest of his medical supplies, and with a few careful snips, it was severed from the chest plate. He was really glad he'd thought to have these on hand. His armor was nigh on impossible to crack open without his own tools.

Nauseated at the sight of so much blood, Tony dropped the clippers, which landed with a rather loud thump upon the tile. He wasn't the squeamish type. In his profession, you couldn't be, but somehow the fact that all of it was his made it so much harder to look at. Head in his hands, he struggled to remain calm and think this through. He could feel himself panicking, and that was the last thing he needed.

Should he just pull them out, grab his needle and thread and hope for the best? Tony snatched up a pair of pliers and poised them over the shards, but nevertheless, stayed his hand. There was risk of infection if he wasn't careful, and though he didn't seem to be bleeding very badly anymore, that would all change the second he yanked those out. The wounds would have to be closed immediately. What if he passed out before he could do that?

Damn it. He was alone here, and in over his head. Why had he thought this was a good idea again? He must have a death wish or something. Even if he managed to pull those shards from the wound without passing out cold, he doubted he could stitch himself up without anesthetic. He hadn't realized the wounds were this bad before.

Yup. Pepper was definitely going to kill him.

Well. He could still call an ambulance.

Or he could call his dad. Tony doubled over in pain as he blinked back tears. Man, this was so humiliating. Even after everything he'd been through: near-death scares, encounters with alien lifeforms, saving the world. When it came right down to it, he was still a scared little boy who wanted his father.

And he didn't care. Oh God, what did it matter anyway? He'd screwed up big time, and even though it was selfish, Tony just wanted someone else to fix things for a change.

Before he could change his mind, Tony felt blindly along the floor for his cell phone. His helmet was out in the living room where he'd dropped it, but he remembered his phone falling out of his pocket when he'd taken his grieves off.

Howard always answered the phone when he called. Always. It didn't matter where he was or what he was doing, if Tony was calling him, it took top priority. This time was no exception. His father picked up on the third ring.

"Hey son, I'm just finishing up here. Do you want me to pick up a pizza or something on the way home?"

Tony froze. The moment he spoke, Howard would instantly know something was horribly wrong, and for a second, he lost his nerve. That was stupid. His whole reason for calling was to tell him something was wrong.

"Tony?" His father sounded worried now. "Is everything all right?"

"Could you come home? Please?" His voice sounded small and scared, and he hated that, but right then he couldn't seem to stop it. He was trembling now. God, what was wrong with him? Pull it together, Stark.

He heard rustling, and a door slamming in the background. "I'm leaving right now. What happened? Talk to me, son."

"Did something stupid. I…I'm in over my head. I thought I could handle it, but I was wrong."

"Are you hurt? Do you need me to call an ambulance to meet me there?"

"No! No hospitals. No ambulance, please. Please. I don't want to go there. Not ever. Not ever again."

"Tony…"

"I swear to God dad, if you call that ambulance, I will rip out the giant shards of metal hanging in my side right this second, and it won't be pretty, I promise you that." Tony knew he was being irrational, but even just the thought of having to enter those halls again made him quiver with dread.

He clenched his fists. No. Too loud. Too bright. Too cold.

No ambulance. No hospital. He'd die first.

More rustling and the rattling of keys as Howard's gasping breaths resounded over the phone. He must have literally sprinted down the stairs to be at his car already.

"Okay. Okay, calm down. I'm on my way. Listen to me, Tony. We'll figure this out. I promise. Have I ever broken a promise to you?"

"No."

"Then why would I start now? Stay on the line with me. I'll be there before you know it. Try not to move around too much, you don't want to rip new wounds before I get those shards out. Tony-"

Hand slick with blood, Tony lost his grip on the phone and it fell to the ground, though he could hear Howard's increasingly panicked shouts from the speaker even still.

He cocked his head and eyed the shards yet again. You know, the bigger piece of metal was almost shaped like Australia if you squinted. He giggled at the thought, recognizing hysteria when he heard it. Oh well. As long as he was losing track of any logic he had left, he should snap a picture and post it on the Iron Man fan page. #superheroproblems.

More hysterical laughter. Geez, his mind was already going. He must be losing more blood than he realized.

Who the hell was that yelling? It hurt his head.

Oh, right. The phone.

Bleary eyed, he picked it back up with a shaking hand. He should probably respond before…wait, who was he talking to again? Everything was hazy now. That was dangerous, wasn't it?

"Tony! Answer me! Damn it, Tony, I swear I will get half the city over there if you don't answer me in five-"

Dad. That was right. Dad was coming to save him.

Tony grinned. He tasted blood.

"Sorry. Dropped the phone. Hands are…slippery."

"I'm almost there, hang on."

"Don't freak out. It's not as bad as it sounds. Just a little…dizzy."

Vaguely, he registered Howard saying something about pulling up in front of the house, but he was only half listening at this point. He figured it was safe to hang up the phone though, so he did that and grabbed the pliers again, wondering if he should just yank it out before his dad came in. Then Howard could stitch him up and they could forget this ever happened. Right?

Ha. Even he wasn't quite delirious enough to believe that one. He knew he'd never live this down. Especially not once Pepper and Rhodey were back in the picture.

Tony rested his aching head against the cabinet and sighed into the paneling, relieved. Shutting his eyes was a terrible idea. He needed to stay awake, but it felt so good against his feverish skin. Just for a few seconds more, then he'd wake back up. Surely he deserved that much?

He was startled awake by the sound of the front door slamming. So that was a no then, right?

Tony smiled in spite of himself. His perception of time was a little screwed up right now, but he was willing to bet Howard had just set a world record.

"Tony!" A light flipped on and he heard his father gasp as the footsteps ceased. Though he couldn't see him of course, he could feel the shock in his silence. It occurred to him, for the first time, that he'd probably made a mess of the living room. Blood stains were hard to get out.

That was okay. He could pay for it.

The footsteps started again, and they thundered down the hallway toward him. Tony straightened too quickly in anticipation, and he hissed as a fresh spike of agony speared him in the side. Oh, ouch. Really ouch. Bad idea. Note to self: don't do that again.

Suddenly there was a hand touching his shoulder, prying the pliers out of stiff fingers wet with blood. Fighting the nausea and the dizziness, he forced his heavy eyelids open to find his father crouching at his side. The sight was almost too hard for him to bear.

Howard looked downright shell-shocked, face drawn with worry. His eyes were a stormy blue…and they were the most terrible things he'd ever seen. Wild, and filled with something dangerously close to panic.

"Oh, Tony." His father's voice was at once both concerned and exasperated. Ugh, he was really in for it now.

Howard smoothed his hair back, and that was all it took to break him. The tears he'd been holding through sheer force of will escaped, and he couldn't do anything to stop them.

"I know. I'm an idiot. C-Could you yell at me later?"

"Count on it, kiddo." Howard was already in action, peering at the wounds. He eyed the largest, 'Australia' shaped piece dubiously. "Well, at least this doesn't look as deep as it could be. If it were any worse, I would never risk handling this myself. You're still going to the hospital, but I'll fix you up first. It seems to have stopped bleeding for the most part, at least until we pull these out, but you've lost too much."

"Dad…"

"No buts, Tony. You're going. Now that I'm here, there's nothing you can threaten to hurt yourself with. I wasn't born yesterday, son. I know why you're so afraid. But avoiding the issue is not the way to go about it, especially under these circumstances."

Tony avoided his father's gaze, far too astute for its own good, and knew that he was right. Ever since his second run-in with Whiplash, he'd been secretly terrified of hospitals. The too-white walls, the smell of antiseptic, the alarms and monitors. Everything about them reminded him how close to death he'd come and yeah, he actually gave a damn. Tony Stark, Iron Man, was afraid of something. Avoiding the emergency room wasn't so much about hating the media as it was being reminded of his own mortality.

And his father saw right through him. As always. Wouldn't you know it.

Tony almost didn't realize he was still crying until Howard wiped the tears away, taking his chin in his hand and holding their eyes level so he would look at him. "I must be insane for going along with this. But, I don't think we have to call an ambulance. I know how much you hate the press, not to mention, it can't be safe for Iron Man's enemies to hear he's down for the count. I'll drive you and we can keep it hush-hush, okay? A good friend of mine is a member of the board. He'll help me keep it quiet. Nobody has to know. And I'll be with you every step of the way."

"I don't wanna stay there, dad. I don't know if I can." Going to the hospital to visit someone else, he could tolerate, but being a patient again at the same place he'd nearly died in multiple times over? His breath came in panicky gasps just at the thought.

"Let's see what they say first. Maybe I can pull some strings afterword and they'll let you come home with me. If not, I'll stay with you. We'll get through this son. I promise." He pressed a kiss to his forehead and stood, holding up a finger in warning. "Stay here. Try to move and I swear, I'll cut your trust fund in half."

Tony's lips twitched into a smile. For about a half second, but still, it was something. He guessed that's what his dad was going for. He always knew how to make him laugh. "Noted."

Howard dashed out and returned (again in record time) with a syringe full of something and what looked to be a surgical staple gun. He smiled reassuringly and winked. "You're not the only guy with tricks up his sleeve."

Tony choked out a watery laugh. "I'm not even going to ask where you got those. Seriously, do you know everything? Who just keeps that in their house?"

"Well, with Iron Man living under your roof, you can never be too careful. Besides, you're one to talk. I don't even think I want to know what's in your room." Howard's lips curled into a wry smile. Tony had the good sense to chuckle sheepishly.

Yeah. Some of them may or may not have been illegal, but hey, who was counting?

Howard made his way over to Tony as he spoke, pulling a bottle of disinfectant seemingly from nowhere. "You're lucky I had that short stint in medical school before I decided I wanted to be the tech guy instead. I'm not exactly an expert, but I know what I'm doing."

He crouched next to him and rubbed the spot above the wound with a cotton swab. "This will numb you. It's just a local anesthetic, but don't be surprised if you start to drift off a bit. You don't want to be coherent for this anyway." Tony eyed the syringe dubiously. Lidocaine? Maybe. Probably. Ugh, who cares?

Sighing with resignation, he looked away as the needle poked through his skin. Tony sucks at life part two: the stitching. Cue ominous music.

Some might argue that he couldn't possibly deflect all of his fears with sarcasm for the rest of his life, but that wouldn't stop him from trying.

It was a damn sight better than curling up in a corner and sobbing until he couldn't think straight.

Tony clamped his mouth shut and struggled against the tightness in his throat. Whatever else happened, he was going to hang onto the shreds of dignity he had left. He was Iron Man, and superheroes didn't break. Superheroes didn't cry.

Yet another tear escaped and he cursed under his breath, eyes slipping shut as he wiped it away angrily. He didn't feel like a hero. He felt like a stupid boy who'd bitten off more than he could chew. A boy, who played at being a man. A mortal in an immortal suit of armor. An angel without his wings. A sword without a scabbard. A king without a crown.

Who did he think he was kidding? Tony Stark was about as invincible as the Titanic, and he was sinking to the bottom of the ocean just as quickly as she had.

This was originally going to be a oneshot, but before I knew it, it was nine pages long with no end in sight, so I'll have to split this up into at least two parts. I'm not sure I'm entirely satisfied with it; the pacing feels off to me, but I can always modify it later.

Thanks for reading! I love reviews if you have the time. Stay tuned? :D