brovengers | 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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"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."

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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