April 1990
Stark Industries HQ, Los Angeles.
Tony's hand moved precisely, assembling the prototype for a new missile his father designed.
The low hum of machinery was the only sound as Tony lost his focus on his work until the door to the workshop was slammed open, accompanied by a loud shout.
"Tony!"
Without looking up, Tony recognized the voice. "Not now, pipsqueak! And how many times have I told you not to disturb me when I'm working? This is my workshop, not your playground."
Ethan, like the boundless spirit of energy he was, ignored Tony's reprimand. He skidded in front of Tony's workbench, his tiny fingers approaching the screwdriver.
Tony was quick enough to snatch it before disaster struck.
"Hey, hey, whoa! Watch it, squirt," Tony said, half annoyed and half irritated. "These aren't toys."
"But they do like toys." Ethan pouted.
Tony ran a hand through his hair. He didn't know how to explain to the three and half year old that these toys could potentially blow up if handled the wrong way.
Well, he shouldn't, or he might be interested in blowing this thing up.
"Well, they aren't. So hands off, alright?"
"You never let me touch anything," Ethan complained, kicking the workshop bench with his small chubby legs in frustration.
"That's because I'd rather keep this place in one piece." Tony shot back with a smirk.
Ethan didn't seem to take Tony's word seriously.
"What are you building?"
"A missile," Tony replied, focusing on assembling the prototype and thinking of ways he could improve it.
"What does it do?"
"It explodes."
"Like fireworks?"
"Yeah, just like fireworks," Tony replied, a bit amused.
"Woah! It 'splodes." Ethan's eyes lit up. Eager to work on something that explodes. He asked, "Can I help?"
Tony snorted, "Not unless you want to blow up the house."
Ethan giggled, thinking Tony was joking. But Tony wasn't joking, not entirely anyway.
Still, the kid was persistent, darting his hands toward the wires and tools.
Tony had to keep pulling him back, over and over again, until he finally had enough, not getting a moment of peace.
"Alright, enough!" Tony scooped Ethan up and placed him on a nearby stool. "Stay here and just watch. No touching, deal?"
Ethan folded his arms and pouted. "But I want to help."
Tony sighed, irritated. "Trust me, kid, you're helping by not helping."
That shut Ethan up for a few minutes, but he broke the silence again.
"Why do you always like to stay cooped up here anyway?"
Tony paused, looking down at the half finished machine prototype. He hadn't thought about it before. It was just something he did, something he was good at.
"Never thought about it," Tony replied after a moment. "Guess I just like building stuff. Figuring things out."
Ethan didn't understand much, but thought for a while before replying, "Dad said you're really smart. Smarter than anyone."
Tony paused, his hands hovering over the prototype for a moment before he resumed working, his expression unreadable.
"Does he?" he murmured.
"Yeah," Ethan replied, oblivious to the tension his words created. Then, with a cheeky grin, he added, "Except me, of course."
That diverted Tony's attention, and he saw the cheeky grin plastered on Ethan's face. Tony replied, half amused and half mocking "Maybe in the next life, kid."
Ethan pouted again. "Dad did say we're going to do something great one day."
Tony snickered, "Yeah, sure. That's Dad, alright, always so generous with the compliments."
Ethan tilted his head, confused. "But he always says that! He's just busy."
Busy.
That's one way to put it.
Tony clenched his jaw. Ethan's childlike admiration for their father was hard for Tony to stomach.
He wanted to explain that Howard's praise came with strings attached, it was always about pushing Tony harder, making him better, without ever acknowledging who Tony as a person already was.
Tony didn't realize that Howard saw a reflection of his younger self in him. It wasn't that Howard failed to acknowledge Tony as an individual, he simply wanted Tony to surpass him and avoid repeating his own mistakes and regrets.
"Yeah, he's always busy. Well, I don't really care what dad thinks." Tony said, though Ethan was too young to understand.
Instead, Tony sighed and changed the subject as he finished assembling the missile. "Do you want to check out how this baby explodes?"
Ethan's eyes gleamed with excitement. "Really? You'd take me?"
"Yeah, come on. Hurry up, squirt." Tony grabbed a smaller prototype of the missile for safety concerns.
Of course, he still got an earful from his mother when Ethan spilled the beans later in his excitement. Howard surprisingly said nothing, but Maria was furious that Tony had taken his three-and-a-half-year-old brother to witness a missile test.
*****
May 29th, 1990
The Glasshouse, New York
The venue hummed with celebration. Soft golden lights bathed the elites, old friends, and corporate magnates in a warm glow.
Tony stood near the bar, sipping his drink. James Rhodes stood beside him, glancing around.
"Nice party your folks put together," Rhodes said, eyeing the elegant decor.
"Yeah, if you're in this kind of thing," Tony quipped. "Trust me, I'd rather be anywhere else."
Rhodes chuckled. "I know you would."
"Let's go," Tony suggested, tired of the polite handshakes and small talk.
"Where?"
"Out of here," Tony replied.
Rhodes was exasperated.
"Tony, you do realise that the party just started, and you already want to ditch it?"
"Aren't they celebrating my birthday? The party should follow wherever I go." Tony sarcastically replied. He always hated it, parties like these were for his parents, not him.
Just as Tony was about to convince Rhodes, he felt a hand on his shoulder.
"You look sharp, kid. Happy birthday."
Tony turned to see Obadiah Stane, his father's longtime friend and business partner, holding a glass of whiskey.
He had a warm smile, much warmer than Howard's, and far less burdened by expectations.
"Thanks, Uncle Obie."
"Twenty years old. It's a big milestone." Obadiah said, taking a sip of whiskey. "Soon you'll be running this place, making decisions for the Stark industries. Your old man must be proud."
Tony forced a smile, glancing towards his parents. His father, Howard, was deep in conversation with several military officials, while his mother, Maria, occasionally looked his way with a soft smile.
"Yeah, proud," Tony muttered. "Or maybe, just wanting me to finally live up to his name."
Obadiah chuckled, "Howard's hard to read, but trust me, Tony, you've already impressed more people than you realise."
Before Tony could reply, a sharp voice came from behind. "Happy birthday, Tony."
Tony froze.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rhodes hurriedly escape toward the group of Air Force officers, abandoning him.
He glanced back once, giving Tony a look that conveyed you're on your own.
Tony turned to face his Aunt Peggy Carter, who, despite her silver hair, still carried herself with the same steely grace she had in her younger days.
Even Obadiah quickly toasted her and excused himself. Peggy wasn't an easy company for anyone.
"Thanks, Aunt Peg," Tony smiled, trying to sound casual.
But there was an edge of fear in being around her. He had been caught red handed by her fooling around more than he could count.
Especially for him who could fool around with girls as easily as tinkering with machines.
Peggy raised her brows, studying Tony with a judgmental gaze that made him squirm. "You're behaving yourself tonight, I trust?"
Tony put on a wounded face. "You wound me, Aunt Peggy. I'm on my best behavior."
Before Peggy could reply, a small voice cut in. "Brother, didn't I tell you not to leave me alone?"
Tony scoffed, "I thought you'd enjoy the company of the old folks."
"I didn't." Ethan retorted with a hint of disdain. But when he noticed Peggy's gaze, he quickly switched to a cute, innocent expression. "Hello, Aunt Peggy."
"How's my little nuisance?" Peggy asked, ruffling his hair. Ethan pouted but didn't argue.
Rest of the evening, Tony found himself bombarded by Ethan's endless questions.
Even after reuniting with Rhodes, Tony couldn't shake off his younger brother, who clung tightly to his jacket no matter how many times he tried to escape.
*****
December 16th, 1990
Stark Mansion, Manhattan
Ethan stood frozen as his father and brother shouted at each other. His mother held him, trying to intervene, but the argument only escalated.
He couldn't remember exactly what his brother Tony said.
He couldn't stop himself from crying.
He did remember his mother, Maria, warning Tony, "Say something. If you don't, you'll regret it." To which his brother stormed out of the room.
Maria sighed as she held Ethan in her arms and patted his back, soothing him. She said, "Don't mind your brother, Ethan. He's got a lot of growing up to do."
Ethan nodded and hesitantly asked with hopeful eyes, "You'll be back before my birthday, right?"
Maria nodded, pinching his nose. "We'll be back before the 24th, sweetie."
"Pinky Promise?" Ethan still asked.
"Pinky Promise," Maria replied with a soft smile.
Ethan nodded, pleased, as he watched his parents get in the car and drive off.
Upstairs, Tony watched too, holding a bottle of whiskey.
Later that night, the news broke.
'Howard and Maria Stark died in a car crash.'
Leaving one with a promise unfulfilled.
The other with endless regret.