Tony Stark didn't cry. It was a well-known fact that Iron Man was indeed a man of iron, with a permanent shell that protected him both physically and mentally. He hadn't shed a tear since he was fifteen years old when a plane had crash landed; shoving him into a very different life that eerily echoed what he had had before.
So maybe that was why he was getting strange looks now. He never met their eyes, only ignoring the people that were imprinted on his peripheral vision. He looked as poker-faced as ever, custom pressed tuxedo sharp.
Words were being spoken, carried by the wind over to Tony and the crowd of people beside and behind him. Mostly they slid over him; only a few key words sticking out, hitting him like an arrow's head over and over.
Hero: got that, he'd heard it often enough. Seriously, get a vocabulary.
Courageous: yup. He had been all about courage, hadn't he?
Loyal: loyalty. Boy, did Tony know it.
Soldier: Of course he had been. It was in the name.
Friend: something Tony suspected he had never been.
The solemn voice stopped, leaving only the continuous blowing of wind. Tony blinked, jolting out of his stupor as the person to his right gave him a slight nudge. He glanced over to meet Bruce's eyes. Like him, Bruce hadn't cried at the ceremony, but like the others, Tony could see a faint glimmer casting a sheen over his eyes.
Bruce cleared his throat. "Tony?" His voice traveled around the hushed procession. "Is there anything you would like to say?"
Tony glanced around, and it was only then that he realized that he had captured the gaze of almost all in attendance. Tony hesitated as Bruce looked on. Finally he got out a simple, "No."
Bruce looked surprised, and a murmur passed through the people. "I..." Bruce stopped himself. "If that's what you want."
Tony only nodded this time, not trusting himself to speak. In his place, Bruce stepped forward, and the drone of speeches continued.
A few hours later, the crowd had mostly dispersed, leaving only a few still huddled on the misty grass. For the first time since arriving, Tony took a step forward, moving closer to what he now considered the bane of his existence.
Only to be stopped as an old woman walked up the side of the mahogany coffin, her hand trailing inside. Her white hair was arranged messily, her black dress looking as worn as she. Her shoulders shook, but Tony couldn't hear the tell-tale sounds of sobbing.
Tony stared at the scene for a while before turning around, letting his feet lead him away. Halfway out of the army of chairs and scattered pamphlets, Pepper's hand grasped his. He froze for a moment before shaking it off. He felt rather than saw her pull away, her arms reaching up to wrap around her.
No, Tony Stark never cried.
AN
I was having Stony feels last night, so I started writing this. Finished this morning.
I guess this doesn't have to be taken as Stony, but whatever, I liked it as a Stony fic.
So ta! Review please!
