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

[fatherofinnovention]

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."

Comments

[fatherofinnovention]

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."

[not_iron]

"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.

[fatherofinnovention]

"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."