A White Winter in Malibu

[not_iron]

He and his old man have eased into something resembling (if you squint) peaceful cohabitation. This doesn't mean Tony sees a lot of him.

But these days, the family commitment issues aren't all on Howard. Because when the mood catches up to him, Tony Stark will persist weeks on a diet of take-out food in his basement bunker, letting his tan wash out under the all-fluorescent lighting down there. Which means unless he's penciled an armor tech field test into the agenda, he also usually doesn't keep up with the state of the weather.

Today's a little different. Today he has the garage door open, because somebody--he hasn't determined whether it was Dummy or You--must have botched last month's maintenance on the ventilation system, so that in the middle of machining a replacement endoskeleton for the one he'd torqued driving his new prototype into the ground after a power failure, he comes so close to asphyxiating at his desk that he has to take a minute, after stumbling outside, to consider the merits of luring both robots into the driveway, pulling their parking brakes, and letting them roll off the cliff.

So it's by chance, really, that when the first sweat-chilling breeze of that freak winter slips a finger past his mansion, Tony is there to take the goose. He turns an eye toward the sky.

"JARVIS," he says, drawing out the AI's name and blinking as a puff of snow settles into his eyelashes, "Get me the weather report, would you?"

Comments

[fatherofinnovention]

Howard, meanwhile, is busy upstairs, pawing away at a cluster of wires housed just behind one of the panels lining the walls of his room. Thick, tinted goggles cover his eyes, and a pocket screwdriver is stuck firmly between his teeth. The phase of grief and frustration that initially consumed him has almost entirely passed, and he's taken to staving off the rest of his emotions by picking apart Tony's carefully calibrated computer systems at least once or twice a day. (When he's not busy catching up on how far Quantum Physics have come, or watching Dancing With the Stars for the cute broads in tight dresses.)

At first it was-- predictably-- a mess, but now that he's grasped the lifetime's worth of difference between the machines he fused together in dingy, makeshift government basements and the gleaming, overwrought tech of the New and Improved Stark Industries, the pieces scattered before him finally make enough sense to reconfigure without unintentionally killing the power, or sending the building into emergency lockdown.

He draws his hand back to grab the flashlight propped against his heel, jamming it awkwardly in the space between his neck and shoulder so that he can see well enough to reconnect one of the smaller cables to his personal laptop. But as he dips his fingertips back into the wall to fish it out, frost crawls along the skin of his knuckles, and he yanks his arm back in surprise.

"What the...." He mutters, suddenly noticing the sight of his own breath as it escapes his lips. This isn't his fault-- it can't be-- he hasn't even altered anything yet.

Howard pulls the goggles off, tossing them to the floor and shuffling downstairs with a somewhat mild expression. "Anthony -- pal, what the hell did you do?? It's freezing up here!"

[yes_mr_stark]

"Tony? Howard? Have you seen what's going on outside?" Pepper enters the lab pulling on a sweater and rubbing her arms, trying to get the chill out of her skin.

"It's.. snowing..." Her sentence trails off as her eyes wander to the map. "Oh my god. Is that.. Is that blizzard in L.A.? How is this even possible? Is this possible?"