Tony shot up out of bed, crying out. "NO!" Sweat trickled down his face slowly as he ran a shaking hand though his hair, shakily. He was breathing rapidly, much too rapid to be healthy. He couldn't think, the only thing that went through his mind was the dream...or, more like the nightmare. It was so real...
His son, Peter, was cowering on the ground in front of a suit...Tony's suit...big bubbly tears running down his small, innocent face. Tony was unable to move, speak...do anything. The suit's hand was pointed straight at Peter. It's hand glowed and then there was a bright light...
The billionaire took deep intakes of oxygen, trying his best to lower his anxiety. He wiped the back of his sleeve across his forehead. After a few minutes of successfully calming down, he heard the quiet pit-pats of tiny feet walking down the hall towards his room. The door was carefully pushed open and a little head with a soft brown mop of hair peeked in. "Daddy? Are you okay?" Tony smiled weakly at his son as he waddled towards his dad, climbing onto the king-sized bed and into his lap. "Why were you yelling?" His son asked curiously. Tony hugged him to his chest, sighing thankfully that the boy was okay. "It was nothing, kid. Just a bad dream, that's all." Tony mumbled, looking down at his son 'reassuringly'. His son wasn't looking at him, though, he was too busy snuggling into his father's robe. He planned on staying up all night, but that was the usual plan, he had just fallen asleep that night in hopes of becoming more healthy. He gently leaned back on the bed with Peter in his arms, turning to his side, surrounding his adopted son in comfort and warmth and protection. No one will ever hurt his kid. No one ever.
