Long sentences/speaking in italics is for the other end of a phone call and also talking from the TV. As usual one-three words in italics are for emphasis -just to clarify.
1991 was a busy year. Tony and Matthew both graduated from MIT and Matthew's training intensified, whereas Tony…well, he began to party and drink. Countless times he had had to call Aunt Peggy to go and talk some sense into his brother. Then December hit. Matthew had been planning to drive over for Christmas with the family, but Tony had already been there. He was recovering from a major hangover, promising to look after the house when his parents went away for a few days, saying they'd be back by the twentieth if everything went to plan.
"Agent Carbonell."
"Yes?"
"Director Fury needs you."
"I see. Thank you." Matthew said as he headed to speak with the bald man in his office. Knocking twice on the door, he entered when given permission and took a seat in front of the solemn man. Several awkward moments of silence passed before anyone spoke, "So…are you Uncle Nick or Director Fury? Because I'm getting mixed vibes."
"I really wish I wasn't the one to tell you this." The man murmured before getting up from his chair and walking around to the one beside Matthew all while ignoring the blond's comment. Placing a comforting hand on his knee, Nick leaned forward and gently held one of the man's hands, "Matthew…there's been an accident. Your parents were in a car accident and…I'm sorry to say, neither of them made it." He froze. Why wouldn't he? He'd just learned that his parents were dead. His mouth was slightly agape with the shock and horror as several tense moments passed by.
"Oh god." Was the first thing he muttered, taking his hand away from Nick's and running both of his own through his hair, gripping tightly to his dark blond locks. He stood up and began to pace, his hands trembling at his sides as he clenched them and unclenched them repeatedly, "Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. No. No. No. You're lying. This is a horrible, horrible prank."
"Matthew."
"Fuck. Shit. No. No. What am I going to do now? I'm barely an adult. I don't know how to do anything."
"Matthew."
"Oh god. Tony isn't even an adult and he's already an orphan." As he spoke those words he froze and turned on his heel to stare at his eye-patch wearing uncle with wide and horrified eyes, "Oh god, Tony…you didn't say anything about him. Is he…is…is he dea…dead?" He choked on the word as he brought his hands up to his mouth. Nick sighed silently, concerned and soft eyes fell on the panicking young man as he walked over and hugged him.
"He's fine. He stayed home. He's currently at your home."
"I need to go get him. I need to see him. I need to go, Uncle."
"I know. I know. Ssh. It'll all be alright." He stepped out of the hug, placing his hands on the tall blond's shoulders and staring into his blue eyes, "Agent Coulson offered to drive you there. It's a five-hour drive, but he can probably cut an hour or so off the trip. If you're okay with being in a car, that is?" Matthew just nodded as his mind blanked. Fury rubbed his back once or twice before Coulson knocked and came inside.
"Hey, Matt." Coulson murmured hugging his best friend. The two had done some of their training together and had become great friends. Though, Phil was five years older than Matthew. "Let's get you home." He gently led his friend out of the office and once Matthew was outside, Phil was called back in,
"Agent Coulson, there's something I need to ask you."
"Sir?"
"About an hour away from Stark Manor, there's something I need someone to check out. If it's not too much hassle, I'd like you to. Like I said, if you're going that way, what's an extra hour?"
"I see. I'll check it out if you give me the information and I'll crash at a hotel." Coulson answered mentally noting to check if his work-emergency-overnight bag was still in his car as Nick handed over a small file.
"Thank you, Agent."
—LINE BREAK—
"I can't get a hold of Tony." Was the first thing that Matthew said when he finally spoke about forty-five minutes into the drive. Coulson had assumed that's what the man had been doing on his phone.
"I'm sure he's fine. He rarely answers the phone anyway." Phil murmured and was glad to see a small smile on his friends face at his last comment,
"I hope so-" He was cut off by the ringing of his phone, hastily grabbing the technology, he answered, "Tony!" He yelled through it,
"You haven't heard from him either, I guess then."
"Who is this?"
"James Rhodes, Tony's friend."
"Oh. Hi. Yeah." Matt stumbled not sure what to say as the two rarely if ever spoke.
"I was calling to see if you'd been in touch with Tones. I've called both of his mobiles at least a hundred times, even tried the landline. My ma's called him on her mobile and our landline quite a few times too, she's freaking out. I've left a shit ton of texts, I've actually run out of them now, same as calls, which is why I'm using the landline." Rhodey paused to take an audible breath cutting through his rambling before continuing, "I'm sorry about your parents. We saw it on the news just now and whilst they didn't say anything about Tony being involved in the accident, that doesn't mean he wasn't and now he's not responding to us and we're all freaking out, is he okay?" Before he could continue with his rambling, Phil took hold of the phone (despite driving as he's a bad boy) as he had heard the majority of it,
"Hello Mr Rhodes, my name is Phil, I'm currently taking Matthew home, I'm a friend of his, you see. Tony is currently at home, he was not involved in the accident, please don't fret, he's perfectly fine. If you would like I can give you a call back on my phone once I see Tony so you can have more clarification that he is alright?" There was a silence on the other end,
"That would…that would be great. Thank you, sir. My ma and I would appreciate it so much."
"Not to worry, Mr Rhodes. I highly recommend that you make yourself and your mother some chamomile tea to help calm your both down and I'll be in touch within the next few hours."
"Thank you, sir. Thank you so much." The man on the other end said, his voice barely a whisper as relief flitted through it. The call ended and Phil handed the phone back to Matt, who was staring at him with grateful, albeit worried eyes. That alone caused Phil to speed up, though he made sure that Matthew was alright with it given that his parents and just died in a car accident. Matthew's response was merely for him to go faster.
"Tony!" He shouted once again as he answered the phone,
"I'm sorry, darling, it's me, Aunt Peggy. I've just seen the news and…I am so sorry my dear boy. I've booked a flight and should be with you both in the next few days. I know you might not want me-"
"No!" Matthew quickly interrupted, "No, please, we will need you." He could picture the sad smile on the British woman's face,
"I'll be there soon. I love you and give Tony my love as well." The call ended briefly, but there wasn't much to say. His parents were dead. At least his aunt would be there to pick up the pieces.
Phil broke countless speed limits, but by the time he was driving up the driveway of Stark Manor, the sun was rising and they'd made it there in just under four hours. Surprisingly, Matthew turned to Phil, though it was obvious that the twenty-two-year-old wanted to run inside,
"Do you need a place to stay?" He asked quickly, eyes darting to the front door,
"No, it's fine. You go be with your brother. Fury wants me to check out some twenty-year-old archer circus guy. If you need anything -and I mean anything, please give me a call." The two shared a brief hug and Coulson watched as Matthew ran inside as fast as he could, almost tripping up the stairs. He waited ten minutes to see if his friend would come back outside in case something was wrong and when he didn't he called the Rhodes, telling them the two brothers would be alright before he headed off to scout out the area that held one Clinton Francis Barton.
—LINE BREAK—
A few hours earlier.
Tony waited for a good twenty minutes after his parents left before he put some music on, hooking it up to the loudspeakers that echoed all throughout the quiet Stark Manor. He stripped his jeans off and in only his socks, boxers and t-shirt he grabbed a beer bottle and began to dance like a lunatic around his house, using the hastily emptying bottle as a microphone. He had a laugh. He enjoyed the emptiness of the house and used it to the fullest. At one point he crashed onto the couch after gathering all the empty bottles and placing them on the coffee table. With a box of pizza and another full bottle of beer, Tony turned the TV on and faintly listened to the news as he searched through the TV guide magazine.
"…Behind me lies a tragedy. Tonight the country and the world has lost a legendary man and a wonderful, charitable woman. Roughly half an hour to an hour ago a car accident stole the lives of Howard and Maria Stark…"
Tony froze. Eyes glued to the screen unseeingly. The bottle in his hand cluttered to the ground spilling beer everywhere. He stood up not knowing what to do or how to react. Then his eyes caught the picture of his dad. He lost it. He picked up the empty bottles and one by one, he threw them at the wall. Shards of glass scattered everywhere, some pieces cutting into him, but he didn't care as he kicked, punched, upturned and threw pieces of furniture about. He tugged at his hair. Screaming. Shouting. Crying. The one thing he didn't touch? His mother's grand piano.
Stumbling outside into the garden, he fell to his knees and leaned backwards as exhaustion settled in. A bottle of his dad's whisky opened and sitting loosely in his hand as he threw his head back and swallowed harshly whilst staring at the sky, careless of the liquor spilling down his cheeks.
"You bastard!" He screamed to the sky, "You killed her! You killed her! You stupid, selfish, bastard. You took her from us. You killed her with your fucking drunk driving! I hate you. I hate you so fucking much."
With no one around for miles, Tony let all of his anger towards his father out, curses upon curses were hurled into the cold and silent night as the starless sky stared down on him. He went to have another swig of the burning liquor but nothing came out. Peering drunkenly into the bottle, the seventeen-year-old poured it upside down and watched as a single drop fell out and onto the grass. Rage welled up inside of him and he staggered to his feet and with surprisingly good aim, he chucked the empty bottle. It crashed through the glass door, shattering both itself and the door. Swaying, he made his way through the door, stepping heavily over the wooden frame that remained intact.
Exhaustion smacked him in the face and he felt himself falling on all fours onto the bed of glass. He stared in drunken amazement as crimson began to stain the floor before whatever strength he had left vanished and he fell completely into the sharp and transparent material, luckily nothing was badly cut (his face and neck narrowly avoiding the shards). He stared at the piano that sat innocently to the left of him, undamaged and untouched, tears silently streamed down his cheeks and he closed his chocolate eyes for a mere second and somehow passed out.
Anyway,
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