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Avengers Cinema
For the 21st Century
Hello and a gift... 
13th-Jun-2008 09:45 am
Lestrade, Hot
Hey, I'm sporky, this is me, here's my gift. :)
Title:  Memories and Armour
Author: capt_spork
Rating:
PG
Summary:  Tony, a bottle of Glen Fiddich, and his memories
Disclaimer:
I don't own anything here. Nada. Zip. I'm not making anything off it either. Marvel is doing that enough for everyone. :)
Notes: Written for the RDJ FicFest, also posted at my journal. ConCrit is LOVE. Takes place after the end of the movie, about two/three days. After Obadiah's memorial service.

After it all - the fight, the press, the memorial service he had to sham his way through - when Tony ordered Pepper to go home and take a day off, neither of them were in any shape to battle it out, and so she left him obstinately staring out the panoramic view of his living room.  After a while (he couldn't be sure how long), Tony poured himself a couple of measures of Glen Fiddich and headed down to the Garage. The battered suit, wiring still pouring out of various torn panels, was piled on the floor in the centre.  He had yet to begin to work on it again.  The arc reactor that had saved his life (again) was sitting on one of the work-benches.  He stood over it, regarding the jungle of wires and parts of his mangled suit with a dark, cold glower.  Downing the scotch, he sat down and picked up a piece of his amour.  Useless now.  Just as useless as the amour he had carried around for years, until it had become so a part of himself the he could not tell where the armour ended and the miserable, pathetic, son-of-a-bitch began.

The constant stream of girls; Tony Stark, playboy; the parties; the wild life. It was him now. Or had been until his capture.  He had thought nothing of sleeping with any beautiful woman, especially those who seemed inclined to hate him.  Those he liked particularly, liked the challenge, and, if he was honest with himself, liked when they did hate him after.  It made it so much easier all round.  He was a charming, thoughtless, asshole, and that was all that was expected of him. Until his capture.  Until he was forced to look at his life, and suddenly the world and his place in it stood in black-and-white.  Until a world where a string of different girls whose names and faces melted into each other, and a party lifestyle that exceeded most of young Hollywood stopped being interesting.  Until he grew a conscience.  In taking responsibility for his innovations; no, for his weapons, Tony Stark had all but left behind that world.  All that was left was his Glen Fiddich, a half-full bottle of which he managed to locate in the Garage and pour another glass.

It felt good to be drinking this.  A little maudlin, maybe, but good.  This was the whiskey he drank for his parents’ deaths, that he used to toast them every anniversary.  And as odd as it seemed, even though Obi had tried to have him killed and then to do the job himself, Tony still couldn’t shake the memories he had of the man.  Good memories. Happy times.  Obi had taught him to swim, had given him his first hot-rod, had bought him his first drink.  He had memories of the man in sad times; a good man: helping him find his feet in the company, taking care of the company until his majority, taking care of him after his parents...  

Of course, that was tied in with his armour.  The daily armour which had started to fall into place after that.  Picking up beautiful girls to prove to himself. That he could.  That it had been a mistake.  It was just that he had needed someone.  A couple of years into it, Tony had realised that was exactly what it was about, but by then his armour was fool-proof, and there were expectations of him that were easier to fill then to dissuade.  He continued his life much in the manner that he had been going along, with the lifestyle that other men his age would have killed for.  Fear had begun it though, fear of himself, of what it meant that he reached out.   That he had tried to find comfort in a man who was like a favourite uncle, when his world changed utterly and forever.  Fear of what it meant that he had been rejected. That the following morning he had woken in his own bed, with a dreadful hangover, and Obi in the chair across the room having watching him through the night to make sure he would be ok. Obi, who had put him to bed, then sat up all night, taking care of him, after he, the son of his best friend, in a spectacularly drunken state had propositioned him and all but begged him to... Tony turned away from that particular memory, concentrating instead on the look of understanding and sympathy (but no pity) in Obi’s eyes, how he had gently ingored the whole situation, and how he had watched over him for years.  He took the glass of Glen Fiddich and drank, then poured the remainder of the bottle into the glass once more, raising it.

“A toast to you, Obi. To the man that I hope you really once were.” He downed the last of scotch, and turned to the suit designs, to see if there was any further improvements to be made.
Comments 
13th-Jun-2008 07:27 pm (UTC)
I love this, I really do.

The world needs more bitter Tony & Obadiah fic; it's just, out of all the relationships in the movie, I came away being inspired the most by that parent & child dsyfunction.
14th-Jun-2008 01:08 am (UTC)
Yeah, they have a messed up dynamic. Which was why I was very nervous about writing this, because I wanted the bitterness to come across, but also for the actual mourning for his friend to come across too.

The prompt was for Tony/Obadiah, which I shied away from really having anything real. Not because of a squick factor, but because I care too much about the characters and would be really pissed off if I couldn't do it justice.

Thanks!
13th-Jun-2008 10:04 pm (UTC)
Awesome. =) I really like your take on Tony on Obie after the movie. There's a good amount of wit, Stark-snarky-ness and angst. Very well done! =D

Love the alcohol additives too. This is a great way to imply how far Tony could really go down into the bottle before the second film.
14th-Jun-2008 01:12 am (UTC)
Thank you! My first angst-with-no-resolution!fic, my first Iron Man!fic, my first messed-up relationship!fic... I was scared how it would turn out.

I think Tony is interesting in how flawed he is and how unapologetic the writers are for it. The alcohol dependency is pretty obvious even in this film, so I suspect it can only become more so.
14th-Jun-2008 01:19 am (UTC)
There's always a first thing for everything and hey, I think you did awesome. No worries there. Tony was in character and his angst and reasonings and everything he did in your fic is realistic and realistic fiction is what I love most.

Personally, it's because Tony is so flawed that I love him for it. He's truly more than just the suit and though he did do some really "bad" things, he's willing to try and make things better.

The alcoholism was pretty downplayed in the movie but the hints of it, spoken and seen, really implies that it's really something major with Tony. I can't wait until the sequel when they say they're going to play more attention to it. =)
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