Chapter 1
“Tony?”
“Tony Stark isn't available at the moment. Please leave a voicemail after the-”
Pepper keyed in a few numbers into the screen, overriding the locked light control flooding the dark room with too bright light.
There was a hiss of pain from somewhere in the area of one of the rootless sports cars parked near the back wall.
“That works too, I guess...”
“Oh LOOK, I guess he is here after all.” she stalked over to where Tony slumped himself to sitting position looking a little more than buzzed, going by his posture and the light scent of alcohol drifting from his person.
“Tony. You're going to be late.”
“Didn't the party start half and hour ago?”
“Later than you normally are.”
Pepper rolled her eyes as she worked on a pair of pearl earrings.
Tony in turn slumped back down onto the seat of the car with an audible groan.
“I already went to the ribbon cutting ceremony and the press conference and the photo shoot. They don't need me to hold their hand through the party too.”
“You know full and well that there are gonna be reporters looking for you. It's gonna be weird if you're not there!”
“Just say I fell down the stairs or something. I'm sure they'll love that.”
“You can't not show up to the party celebrating a museum about your own family!” she sounded more than exasperated. “First of all, it's a museum about my own family so I'm pretty sure I have more power in that regard to decide whether or not I go.”
Tony sat up once more.
“Secondly, maybe I just find it a little bit creepy just how obsessively they research my family in the first place? I mean, why is it that there are family pictures that even I didn't know existed blown up and framed for everyone else to see? How'd they even get it to be under the common usage laws?” he muttered, tone taking on a slightly bitter edge.
Pepper tilted her head fractionally, really observing the worn out man before her in silence.
“And you know what? I don't need a museum full of old shit to remember. I was there.” he said it with more force than absolutely necessary.
Not that he particularly cared at the moment, head resting against the huge steering wheel.
“Tony.” she walked over to the drivers door, getting down to eye level, arms on top of the windowless door.
Tony didn't answer, staring hard at the horn.
“As the CEO of Stark Industries, I'm gonna advise you to go.” he rolled his head sideways, resting his right cheek of the steering wheel while staring at Pepper like a kicked puppy.
She took a deep breath, looking up against the involuntary stinging in her eyes.
“But as a friend, I'll stick by whatever you decide to do.” she reached out to run a hand through his messy hair.
“But please don't do this to yourself” she eyed the bottle of Bacardi that nearly a third empty.
“You don't deserve this.”
Tony sat back up, eyes widening as he saw the water slowly filling in her eyes. But before he could say anything she stood back up and turned around, hastily wiping her eyes as she sped out of the lab, leaving Tony in silence once more.
-----
It was nearly two hours into the party before he drove up to the red carpet, leaving the attendant with his keys and a hefty tip before making his way up to the entrance, flat out ignoring the flashing lights and garbled questions being screamed at him.
Deep breaths.
It wasn't much better inside.
Inside there was music and far too many people. But he did see Pepper in the distance, and if his drunk brain had received the right ocular signal, Pepper had seen him too, doing a double take before returning to the conversation she was in. He wandered a bit, trying his best not too look too hard at any of the photographs.
He was present and that was what counted. No one said he had to enjoy it..
But the museum was huge and the pictures seemed endless.
Photos of what he could only assume were his grandparents. Extended family. Photos of a time before he existed.
Childhood photos of his own parents. Wedding photos from Maria and Howard Stark’s wedding day. Their house(s). Their cars. Anything remotely connected to the Starks. Newspaper clippings. Some video footage from when Stark Industries was still a weapons manufacturing company.
He didn't mean to stare, but he did.
Photos from his childhood. General information about him including some surprisingly personal things he had no clue was open to the public.
He kept wandering and kept staring, subconsciously noting the kindling of a small flame in his gut.
Photo after photo creating elaborate and almost perfect looking lives. The flame grew.
What few family photos he was aware existed hung up creating what looked to be a loving home with what was believed to be a warm and carefree childhood.
In the end it was a photo of Howard and Tony at what looked to be a science competition. Little Tony, smiling, holding up a trophy as Howard stood behind, hands resting atop the child’s shoulders. What looked to be a smile on Howard.
But it hadn't been the case. It was one of many memories burned into Tony’s head.
He was around seven at the time,personally invited to compete in the local middle school’s science competition by a encouraging science teacher. He grabbed the chance, throwing himself into his project, determined to win. And win he did. But it hadn't been enough for Howard. The prototype robot had short circuited after the judging period, and he had no idea as to why. But to kid Tony, it hadn't mattered. He had won so by default he had to be the best out of everyone there. But of course, it wasn't the case. Tony remembered the almost cold threatening weight of his father's hands and the silent car ride back home. In the end he left his trophy in the attic, along with the rest of his blueprints and prototypes, leaving them to fade away.
It had been a milestone for him. One of my stepping stones towards becoming the person he was today. He never asked his father to come to anything else after that unless absolutely necessary, and even then Howard failed to show ninety percent of the time. It was only a steady decline from there.
But of course, no one really knew.
Hell, not even Pepper knew the full extent of his glass castle background, and he wasn't entirely sure as to when he would feel okay with letting her know.
Or letting anyone know.
He had worked far too hard on his current persona of the genius asshole who was a little too full on himself.
His sarcasm and biting wit were his armor.
So when he reached an video alcove off to the side of the hall, he didn't even bother looking in, turning on his heels towards the concession stand.
One more hour and he'd let himself go back home to the safety of the forcible repression of his memories.
And maybe, just maybe.
One more shot. Just for the hell of it.