anationaltreasure:
He’s so tired of circling the Howard Stark Fan Club every time he has a conversation about his father. Because the thing is, the thing is: Tony doesn’t blame him for being a terrible father, either. It’d be easier if he did, and a hell of a lot less important to him if he did, but he doesn’t.
Howard was a brilliant man, and he did so many things, created so many things that improved the world. It’s a monumental set of shoes to fill, it’s a legacy hanging over his head that sometimes feels like the Sword of Damocles, but he’d be damned if he’d have it any other way. Sure, it’d be nice to have more god memories than bad when it comes to the personal shit, but Steve’s right: he turned out alright. More than that, if Howard had been a better father, a better husband, a better part of their family, he has no doubt that the world would have suffered for it.
Tony loves his father, and he always has. It’s hard not to, and God knows he’s tried, but that’s the simple, inalienable truth. He loves and respects him, and more than that, he understands why Howard was the way that he was.
Doesn’t mean he wants to have a heart-to-heart with Spangly Britches about it, or that he feels obligated to to give him a hall pass to comment on shit that’s, frankly, none of his business.
Tony finally looks up, lower lip caught between his teeth, and regards Steve moodily.
“Are you finished? Because. Busy here.” He gestures to the work laid out in front of him, casual insolence in his expression and tone, designed to get under Steve’s skin. “As fun as this conversation is, I was over it, like, five minutes ago.”
Before it even started. Before Steve ever rose back up from the grave and imposed himself on Tony, on his life, on his career.
“And unless you can prove you’re more useful than my bots, which is not a – it’s not a tall bar to leap, if we’re talking Dum-E here, but I get the feeling you’d still trip – your presence is so not necessary. Especially if you’re going to nag. I have enough naggers in my life, thank you very much.”
tony has his issues, it’s not like steve (or the whole world) doesn’t know that and if he’s honest -- which he usually is -- sometimes he thinks howard might’ve done his son good to give him a kick in the ass once in a while instead of vanishing in the wars at peggy’s side. but howard made his choices, gave his sacrifice. it was unfortunate that tony was one of the few caught in the crossfire.
a part of him wonders what it’d have been like, watching stark grow up.
it unsettles him some days, thinking about the grand scheme of things. but today is one of those days where he uses that to his advantage in a way. tony bites, trying to agitate him, and steve’s attention is focused on the rather delicious lo mein he’s unboxing. stark sounds less serious when his words are punctuated by the rustling of plastic and steve’s got chopsticks between his teeth as he sets out their breakfast. it’s uncommon that’s for sure but he’d been running on the assumption stark might’ve been drinking. he’d learned that nothing was better for the hangover than chinese food.
“Not even close to finished.” there’s a smile around the chopsticks and he’s setting a box of something called kung pow chicken between them with a second set of chopsticks laid over the top. “Frankly I’m used to your indifference by now, and I gotta say I’m not surprised by it anymore.” now he’s snapping his chopsticks apart, meeting stark’s gaze with a pointed: if you don’t eat i’ll find ways to stay longer, i’ve got all day.
“I’m not here to be your nanny or hold your hand. I know you could just build yourself a robot to do the job better than I could.” a pause and he leans forward, pointing casually towards the mess of who in the blazes knew that stark is presently bent over. “What I still don’t get is why you made a robot that’s not smart, is it just to make you feel better when you’re yelling at something? I mean hell, it’s just you and a bunch of scrap metal down here that’s gotta get lonely.”
