“He’s fine,” Tony said, noticing Peggy’s brief search for Steve. “I mean, he’s around here somewhere.” He made to gesture toward the small pseudo-headquarters, used to talking with his hands, but the new metal arm he’d used to replace the one he’d lost snapping Thanos out of existence still ached. “I didn’t kill him yet if thats what you’re worried about. I’m actually glad you’re here. You don’t know this yet, but in my timeline, we’re pretty much BFFs.” Trusting her not to know what that stood for, and since she couldn’t technically prove him wrong, Tony rubbed his shoulder absently and turned to the fridge.
“No, actually. There’s no alcohol in the house. I’m an alcoholic, see, so living with me–rent free!–” He called the last two words loudly around the corner, sure Clint, and at least a few of the others weren’t completely out of ear shot. “Isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. But I have wheat grass, Orange juice, and….” He picked up a colorful looking carton. “Pog. What’s your poison?” Prior to actually getting help, Tony never would have admitted something like that, but these days, he never did try and hide it; the whole world–at least in his timeline–knew exactly what a hot mess of a human being he used to be. Anyway, he suddenly had something to prove, even if he was the only one who knew it: his father was almost certainly an alcoholic–and the number one reason for Tony’s drinking–and he’d never gotten help. Asking for help is a weakness.
“Crazy?” He filled in the blank. “Yeah, this whole place is.” And they’d fought like hell to keep it. Peggy hadn’t just been dumped into the future; she’d been dumped into the post-apocalypse. Thanos was gone, but the world was still reeling. Thor’s luscious locks were only one of many mysteries. And his father? “Pretty shit at it, yeah.” Tony smiled sightly as he grabbed two cups from the cupboard. “Don’t know how you put up with him all those years.” He pulled up a seat for her at the table then sat across, offering his hand as an ‘official’ introduction. “Hi, I’m Tony Stark. I was born in 1984, which you haven’t seen yet. Hell of a year. I think you knew my dad. I’m the smarter, better looking version. Like an iPhone upgrade that actually matters–you’ll get that reference soon, I promise. I’ll get you a Stark phone, actually. You’re going to need it. Tiny phone,” he explained. “That fits in your pocket. Doesn’t need a cord. Also plays music. Connects to a thing called the internet that’s going to blow your socks off, but we’ll get to that.”
SHE HOLDS BACK A LAUGH at his antics , amused that he could be so much like his father but seem so disdainful of the man in the same breath. no , actually , she completely understood but loving & hating howard stark. ❛ well , i’m glad you’re taking care of yourself , then . . . orange juice sounds divine. ❜ she smiles gently & moves to sit at the table , gaze watching him move about.
❛ i knew howard better than anyone , ❜ she says , confidence in her tone. ❛ he was one of my best friends --------------------------------- him & jarvis. ❜ her head tilts a bit. ❛ A SMALL PHONE ? interesting. i’m glad howard’s genius didn’t die out with him. ❜ her tongue clicks gently. ❛ actually . . . you seem far smarter. howard couldn’t get his car to levitate , but you’re running around in a flying suit. a tiny phone sounds like the least interesting thing about you , stark. ❜