Disclaimer: Iron Man belongs to Marvel.
Summary: Eight year-old Tony Stark meets a future enemy and a future friend.
Tony put a hand to his head and ruffled his hair. His mother had just spent the last ten minutes slicking it back so that it looked what his father described as 'presentable', but he hated it and felt it made him look stupid. Aware that his parents would not be pleased, he focused instead on making sure his tie was perfectly in line and that every other aspect of his appearance was perfect. No such luck. He was uncomfortable. His suit was stuffy and his shoes were pinching his feet. He scrunched his face up and looked at the clock on his bedroom wall. It was ten to seven, and nearly time to go.
He headed to the door and exited his room, walking across the gleaming hallway to the marble staircase. As always, he used his fingers to make a tiny pair of legs run down the banister as he came down the steps. His mother was standing by the front door, arranging her pearls. When she saw his hair, she gave a sigh and frowned but did nothing to change what was done. Tony liked that about his mother. Somehow she just knew, better than his father, what he liked and didn't like. She understood that if he wasn't satisfied, he'd tinker and alter and, in this case, ruffle, until it was the way he wanted.
The door to the study opened and Howard Stark emerged, all black tuxedo and perfectly trimmed moustache. When he saw Tony's hair, he rolled his eyes and checked his watch. Tony had been smart, and had calculated that there would be no time between him leaving his bedroom and his father noticing his sticky-up hair for his mother to grab a comb and set about re-slicking it. Howard Stark realised this also, and marched right past Tony, opening the front door for his wife.
The Stark Industries Charity Gala was an annual event, and it was compulsory for Tony to be in attendance. Usually, if there was a good buffet laid on or people he knew to talk to, Tony wouldn't mind being there, but tonight was a night for his father to place his hands on Tony's shoulders and introduce him to old men who smelt of cigar smoke. He shook hands and smiled and answered questions about his engines and his future, just like his father had told him to.
Minutes felt like hours.
"Howard?" asked a familiar voice. Tony was steered to his left, but felt a sigh of relief pass through him as he finally recognised a familiar face. Obadiah Stane was making his way over. Obi had been a family friend for as long as Tony could remember and quite happily thought of him as an uncle. His father shook hands with the man. "Ah, Tony." he said, turning his attention downward, "You do look smart."
"It's a shame about the hair." said Howard.
"I like it," said Obadiah, "it looks like he's been working."
Tony smiled and, as his father steered him away again telling him that there was someone else he wanted him to meet, he saw Obi give him a wink.
Father and son walked across the entire hall, shaking hands and whispering quick sentences to men and women standing in their way. Up ahead, by what Tony spotted eagerly as the buffet table, a tall man in military uniform stood with his back to the crowd.
"Mr Rupert Rhodes?" asked Howard. The military man turned around.
"Lieutenant Colonel Rupert Rhodes." corrected the man, and smiled a wide smile. He took Howard's hand in a strong grip and Tony realised instantly that his father and this man were friends. "Nice party."
"I do my best," said Howard. "Rupert, this is my son, Tony."
Tony automatically put his hand forward to be shaken. The Lieutenant's hand was quite a considerable amount bigger than Tony's hard-working eight year-old palm and fingers, but the shake was a lot softer than anyone else's that night. This man was being nice to him.
"James!" called the Lieutenant. "Come over here a minute."
A boy walked over to the Lieutenant. He was wearing a grey suit and looked no older than Tony. He didn't know there were going to be other people his age in attendance tonight, so this boy's presence came as a pleasant surprise.
"This is my son, James Rhodes." the Lieutenant introduced. James looked at Tony. Tony didn't know what to do. Does he offer this boy his hand? Or is that just for older people? Tony took a gamble.
"I'm Tony." He said, offering his hand.
James Rhodes took it, shook it, and smiled.