brovengers | This is the eve of "I don't believe"; that's all we've got in common, the sky above is fallin'.

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This is the eve of "I don't believe"; that's all we've got in common, the sky above is fallin'.

After his late night with Pepper, Howard's thoughts are a tangled mess. A half hour spent staring at the ceiling proves completely fruitless, and he crawls out of bed to reach the far end of his room where he's relocated enough of Tony's tech to make a provisional workstation.

He bites deeply into his lower lip as he reworks housings and solders electronics, letting the guilt and frustration of his numerous failures drain out into mental schematics; a vast network of facts and possibilities that block out the thought of self-loathing entirely. There's no denying that Anthony is the best the world has right now, and this should be his time, but fate wasn't exactly kind when it shoved Howard face first into the future, and he won't keep his sanity intact if he can't push the limits of his intellect. If that means the kid has to take a backseat, then so be it.

His finger slips. He slices the edge of his left hand against a section of metal, accidentally tearing out a few carefully placed wires as he yanks his wrist back in response.

Howard seethes, burying his face in the palm of his damaged hand and slamming his other against the surface of the table. "Son of a bitch."

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If it’d been solely up to him, Tony would have gladly taken to his workshop and sulked into a project for a week following his fallout with his dad. But Pepper being Pepper, she made it pretty clear he’d suffer in some not-so-subtle way if he didn’t at least put a foot forward in patching things up. He figured he'd do a toe, then call it good.

Tony showed up at the guest bedroom door just in time to catch the muffled curse beyond. With an eyebrow raised, he keyed in an override for the lock and nudged the door open with his shoe before sticking his head inside.

"Rough day?"

Howard sucks in a deep breath, trying to cool off before whatever mental fuses remain unblown check out entirely, but it's embarrassing to have him here uninvited, and it's an invasion to the sanctuary he's built to block out the world. So he doesn't notice it until after he's spoken that his tone is far more harsh than he'd intended.

"What is it you want, kid? I'm busy right now."

Ouch. He wouldn't admit--especially not to himself--that the abrasiveness in his dad's voice stung him, even when his chest tightened around the words as he digested them.

"Busy bleeding all over your connections? I'm sure that'll work out for you. Here." He snatched the lightly grease-smudged rag hanging out of his back pocket and tossed it onto Howard's desk.

His hand finds the rag, and he wordlessly wraps it around his palm.

"Thanks." He murmurs, which is as much of an apology as he can muster. Howard kicks the chair around so that he's facing Tony, giving him a quick once-over before continuing. "She put you up to this, didn't she?"

Apparently Tony has enough sense not to play dumb. He sticks his hands in his pockets and moves inside, letting the door fall shut behind him.

"I know you don't have to ask. Because you know who wears the pants in this relationship." And Tony's okay with that.

"She's a remarkable woman." He says flatly. It's not dishonesty that keeps the emotion out of his voice, but he'd rather treat it as a fact, instead of giving Tony a way to turn it into another excuse.

"Well, good on you. You came, you tried, I won't tell you what to do with your life. Mission accomplished, kid."

Considering how stubborn Howard had been the last time they'd butted heads, Tony is almost nonplussed by his willingness to let it go.

But then, he's probably more interested in convincing the kid to get lost.

Fine. But Tony's gonna make him work for it.

"So...what? That's it?"

Howard doesn't look surprised when Tony turns up his nose at the possibility of a peaceful parting. After all, Anthony's bouts of stubbornness play out like a child pushing and prodding at everyone within reach in order to get even the tiniest sliver of attention in response. He suspects that the fact that he's Tony's father only makes matters worse.

"I'm sorry, were you looking for something with a little bit more vitriol and spite?"

"Actually, I had this crazy idea you might be up for a chat. You know, throw a word or two around, face to face." Ironically, he's not looking at Howard. He finds a way to make every other feature of that bedroom more interesting. "I dunno. It's this thing family does sometimes," he added. "From what I hear."

Family.

He has to strain to keep from making any kind of expression to avoid possibly upsetting Tony any further. Like it or not, he's right, they are family.

"All right." He says, scooting forward in his chair. "What's on your mind?"

So far, Tony's been able to keep his Feelings from the task of making peace with this bizarre, time-twisted ghost. But the more time he spends mouthing words like "family", he's starting not to trust himself to hold it together. Because no matter how badly he'd like to deny it, this guy is his father.

He finally looks over his shoulder.

"I think we got off on the wrong foot. Let's start over, huh?"

"Why not?"

Howard lifts his arms in an exaggerated shrug. "Hello, my name is Howard Stark. I am the number one technological genius the US has under its belt, and somehow a little cube of pure energy managed to ruin my life by throwing me so far into the future that I'm already dead. --Oh, and I can't get a girl on my arm without her asking if I'm related to Tony Stark. Which is always fun."

"You ever think about coming out?" Tony raises an eyebrow as he turns back around to face Howard. "You'd make a few headlines, maybe get poked at by a few doctors. But at this point, I'm starting to think weirder things probably happen every day."

Truth of the matter is, he has. Multiple times. But he's fairly certain the issue of ownership when it comes to Stark Industries would be dragged out into an ordeal that neither he nor Tony would want to handle, even if he didn't want to take it all back. And unless he sees the kid setting his company on fire-- possibly literally-- he's just not willing to do it.

"Anthony, if I did that, S.H.I.E.L.D. would be jumping down my throat for telling the world about time travel." He says as he eyes the arc reactor's soft blue glow. "What about you, huh? Why go through all this trouble to take care of your not so old man?"

While Tony has no intention of letting this thing degenerate into the weirdest inheritance battle the world's ever seen, there's always been this growing part of him that wants somebody else to take the reigns out of his hands.

"They'd get over it."

He shrugs.

"And I dunno. Beats me. Maybe because it gets on your nerves."

"Cute."He scoffs. "But even I know better than to buy into that bushwa."

"So what's the real reason?"

"Then how about just 'I don't know'? How's that?" He knows the words he's looking for are here, they just keep straying right outside his grasp.

Tony pushes a hand back through his neatly combed hair, throwing a few strands out of place.

"Look. You used to talk a lot about legacy. I don't think I ever really listened to you, not until...things happened. Until I looked at you and remembered that I didn't really know my dad except through this company. So why don't we start there? I wasn't just razzing you when I said I needed help."

Howard's expression softens slightly. He's not without sympathy, after all; it's obvious there's a deep wound lying just beneath the mask Tony likes to parade around in. He can guess whose fault that is.

"Look, I might give you a hard time now and then, but it's only because you're more than capable of handling this on your own. I'm not pulling your leg when I say that you've got it in the bag. What good would I be if I spent all my time hovering over your shoulder, huh?"

"Don't get me wrong. 'Cause trust me, I don't want you hovering," Tony adds, because no, he doesn't work well under supervision. Bad things tend to happen to the people who get in his way. "But between turning Stark Industries into a beacon for clean energy and playing the superhero game, I'm not getting to put a lot of Stark into the business end of Stark Industries these days."

"And you'd be willing to just pass that part of it over to me?"

He gets why Tony's slowly tiptoeing towards the idea, but that doesn't mean he's sold on it yet. Howard Stark's not the kind of guy who needs validation on a regular basis (though it is nice when it happens) but in this case-- after being set down in the wrong time-space playground-- establishing both his purpose and importance seems more vital than it ever had before.

And he wonders if it's possible to matter at all if he simply picks up where the old Howard left off.

"I'm thinking about it. You might have to make it through a formal interview with Pepper first." Because all three of them know that despite what it says on the side of that building downtown, the decision isn't really his.

Of course, he doubts Pepper's going to put up much of a fight with the suggestion of letting Howard Stark lighten her workload.

"I don't know, kid." He scratches the back of his head. "I need some time to think it over. "

"Thanks, though. You know, for asking."

"Hey, take all the time you need." Tony offers his dad a slip of a smile that only pulls at a corner of his mouth. "You've got a lot of that now, don't you?"

Not that Howard Stark died a young man. But it sure as hell was long before his time.

Howard catches the half-smile, but he doesn't attempt to read too far into it. He tilts his chair back slightly, picks up a pocket screwdriver and raps it against the section of metal that had scratched his hand.

"More than I know what to do with, pal. Maybe I should be the one out there getting some awards for scuffling with criminals."

"Which isn't, for the record, always as fun as it looks," he points out. He pulls his hands out of his pockets and tilts his head, sweeping a glance over the mess of parts scattered across the desk. "What're you up to in here, anyway?"

"Cannibalizing your housekeeper's systems has given me a bit of an idea or two. I've taken a peek at that armor of yours, you use the same interface for the combat displays, don't you? Smart move, kid." Howard's tone is slow to change, but the more he talks about work the softer it is, the more praising he's willing to be. Even pretending for a moment that Tony's not his future son, but instead just one of his usual military team pals makes the whole thing easier to swallow. "My question is how much energy do those systems burn on average, and how much can we spare for some more firepower? I feel like there's some untapped potential here stuck behind some of those shiny upgrades you've given yourself."

The fact Howard's literally been turning things inside out since he moved in doesn't faze Tony for an instant, and mainly because he knows if he were in his dad's shoes right now, he'd be doing the exact same thing.

"The power pull on the HUD is negligible. Same with the pane displays in the house." He taps the faintly-glowing device in his chest. "But you're right. I mean, under normal circumstances I can't put a dent in the power supply. Plenty of room to plug in new toys."

"Under normal circumstances, sure, but..."Howard eyes the little circle in the center of Tony's chest again."What I'm more concerned with is when you're down and about ready to tap out. Power management is more crucial then than ever, and you might not be together enough to manually do it."

Which really is Howard's way of saying he's worried about the guy. Not that he can admit it outright.

Now, considering the tenor of their relationship so far, Tony is kinda thrown by the underlying concern that has to exist in Howard, somewhere, for a suggestion like this to come up.

He rubs a hand across the nape of his neck, mussing the hair line.

"Fail-safes I've got." Not that they're actually always fail safe. "There's an auxiliary power system that kicks in if there's enough stress on the reactor. If you'd like to have a look at it, be my guest."

"Hmph." He presses his lips together in a somewhat skeptical frown. Tony Stark isn't exactly the picture of personal safety, after all. "Show it to me. I want to make sure it's more than just passable. "

"I just think you'd do well with a bit of solar paneling stuck in the lower plates of that thing to build some reserves without costing you any time-- or blood-- while you're out on the field. Not the god-awful junk they have out on the market right now, mind you. A week or two in the shop and I'll find a way to make something far more efficient and compact that wouldn't even start to weigh you down."

Okay, so, despite the ridiculous--and honestly completely anticipated--implication that his stuff isn't up to snuff, Tony finds he's warming to a version of Howard Stark who can take an interest in his son's work.

Kind of bizarre to think this is the same guy who seemed like he couldn't be bothered to care his kid existed once upon a time.

"Uh-huh. Tell you what. I'll set you up here with anything you want, and you're on. Knock yourself out."

A slight grin makes its way onto Howard's face, and he folds his arms over his chest. "Sounds good to me. But we'll sort out the details later, you need to get some shut eye before the sun comes up."

"I'm not the one who's pushing ninety, old man," Tony snorts. To be honest, he doesn't have the slightest clue what time it is. Things like the Earth's rotation seem to like to keep out of his peripheral view when he's got his head in a project.

"Don't change the subject, kid. Out." Howard lifts a finger, pointing at the door. "If you want to think clearly, you're going to need a full night's rest."

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This is the eve of "I don't believe"; that's all we've got in common, the sky above is fallin'.

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