Tony stared dispassionately at all the people surrounding him, nursing his drink. It was like being at the biggest fucking family reunion ever except he didn't know a single person there. Thankfully Pepper stood at his side, dropping hints and helping him through, but he heard all the whispers – where has he been for the past five years?, only came home to inherit the company, looks just like his father there with his drink.

He had only been home thirty-six hours before his father died – Tony was there, but he was sure Howard hadn't even been lucid enough to recognize him. It didn't matter, not really – there was no love lost between them. But for some reason it hurt more than he had expected. And Obie was right there behind him with his hand on his shoulder, like he hadn't just tried to have him killed two days ago.

Now Tony watched him in that expensive black suit, exuding fake melancholy as he went from person to person, shaking hands, telling stories about Howard, and assuring them that nothing with Stark Industries would change but the name of the CEO – he had been running it for years anyway with Howard's compromised health.

Tony wanted to strangle him with his bare hands.

"Tony?"

He heard Pepper's voice and looked up at her, feeling like she had probably called his name a couple of times.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, swallowing the rest of his drink, letting the burn perk him up.

"I know you're tired, we only have to stay another half hour," she offered optimistically, far more sympathetic to him than she typically was. "Then we can go back to the hotel. You don't have any more events until the lawyer's meeting tomorrow."

"Thank god," he muttered, not really looking forward to that, especially since he hadn't had a moment alone with Obie yet.

"But I have to go to the restroom. Will you be okay here?"

"Yeah – yeah go," he encouraged, shaking his head, feeling stupid for not having thought about her at all. "I'll be fine. I need to talk to Obie anyway."

A guarded look came over Pepper's face but he shoved her off with the best smile he could manage – a half-hearted flop of a thing – and assured her he'd be okay. Even if he wasn't really positive he would be.

He hated the way his heart raced as he stood to approach Obie, the way every part of him longed to be back in bed with Bruce, the way he could feel the bruising on his neck with every swallow, the visceral fear coursing through his veins as Bruce turned into that monster. This was like a nightmare he couldn't seem to wake up from and he didn't feel prepared to deal with this – with any of this. But he also didn't have a choice.

Tony glanced around this pretentious roomful of people and realized for the first time – this was his life now. This. Once upon a time that realization would have thrilled him. Seventeen year old wannabe law major Tony who longed for the respect and power his father commanded. But now, when he knew how deeply his father's best friend had betrayed him? Used his company for a drug cartel, ran the whole thing behind his back, tried to kill his only son? All that respect, all that power was a lie. Where was the pleasure in that?

He forced himself to smile as he approached Obie, like nothing in the world was wrong as his whole reality was unraveling around him, and Obie smiled back as if he was the uncle and friend that he was supposed to be.

"Hey there Champ," he greeted with that big grin Tony used to love, managing to keep his disappointment to himself if he felt any at seeing him alive, resting a hand on his shoulder, thumb at his pulse point, and Tony managed not to flinch.

"Stane," Tony replied, not offering him any warmth or familiarity.

"Aw, is that how it's going to be?" he asked, mocking disappointment in that thick drawl of his.

"Yeah – sorry I'm not more excited," Tony growled under his breath, pulling at his tie and his shirt to expose the sharp line bruising across his neck.

"I must admit I am a little surprised to see you," Obie said as Tony rolled his eyes away from him, glancing across all the unsuspecting guests, guests who saw nothing but an amiable chat between family.

Tony snorted. "That's what happens when you're too big a pussy to do the dirty work yourself."

Obie's grip on his shoulder became uncomfortable as his hand clenched down.

"Son I have done more in my life than you ever will," he replied, voice low. "I destroyed your relationship with Howard, I fed him lies about you every second you were gone until he didn't care if he ever saw you again and he died thinking you were a worthless piece of shit who didn't give a flying fuck about him. Don't fool yourself, Champ."

Tony bit down hard on the inside of his cheeks, tasting cooper as he tried to maintain his cool. Every fiber of his being begged him to haul back and punch Obie across the face, break his jaw, make him feel a even a sliver of his anger – but this wasn't the time or the place. The last thing he needed was to be taken to court by the COO of the business he was about to inherit. But God – how could he? Tony knew Obie was a heartless bastard and it was true he had never had a great relationship with his father anyway but... fuck.

"You're fired," he spat out, immediately closing his eyes hard and restating, cursing his lack of tact in his anger. "Or you're going to resign, I mean. I'll give you a severance package and all that but you're going to sell your shares to me or let them be reabsorbed by the company or whatever but you're gone."

"You done?" Obie chuckled, removing his hand from Tony's shoulder and slipping it casually into his pocket, like this whole conversation didn't matter to him at all.

"I'm serious," Tony replied quickly, fingers so tightly balled into fists that they ached.

"Why would I leave?" Obie never rolled his eyes as a rule but he didn't have to – the derisive quality of his voice was more than enough to make Tony feel completely invalidated. "Because you said? I have as much – hell, more right to SI than you. I dealt with your deadweight father for years while you fucked around pretending see ghosts. I know more about SI than anyone – no one could replace me."

"I have someone in mind," Tony answered coolly as his eyes landed on Pepper shaking hands with a couple across the room, finally feeling a little of Obie's frustration in the length of his reply. "And it's simple – you resign or you get to go to jail forever for drug trafficking."

Obie huffed an incredulous laugh. "I'll just have you killed."

Tony shrugged. "Maybe I'll have you killed first," he suggested, totally nonchalant. "But either way, I have sealed proof resting with several different law firms across the country with explicit orders to be handed over to the DEA upon my death."

He could tell he struck a chord when Obie pat him a little too hard on the back with a laugh that was a little too strained.

"Proof? Sure, Champ. Whatever you say."

It wasn't exactly wrong of Obie to call his bluff – they didn't really have much to go on yet and there were only a few tangential links documented in paperwork and a personal statement from Tony himself collected and sent to a single lawyer. But now that Pepper had been given permission to look through anything she wanted – despite Tony having not officially been instated as CEO yet – she was working late to find missing data, connections, records where Obie fucked up. It was slow – painfully slow. It would probably take her months. But eventually they would have proof. Tony was sure.

"After I'm made CEO, I will expect your formal resignation," Tony muttered as Obie shook his head, walking away as if it was all a good joke – but Tony wasn't laughing.

His throat ached and he knew it was probably psychological but he didn't care, he wanted a drink. He cast his eyes towards the bar, thought of how his father would probably laugh, joke about a boy trying to be a man. Every memory of every hug his father had ever given him smelled like whiskey. The truth was alcohol never made his father a man – it was the only time it made that man his father.

Though he would never admit it, Tony was glad for Pepper's interruption and her hand on his shoulder forcing him to turn from the bar.

"You okay?" she asked quietly, a thread of concern worrying it's way across her pale brow.

"I will be," he grinned, a little too forced – sure it was obvious, "when you're COO in a couple weeks."

Pepper did this thing with her lips, pursing them in a way that Tony was starting to recognize as a sign that she wasn't planning to hold her breath and he supposed that was fair – though it did disappoint him.

"Let's go," Pepper said instead, moving her hand from his shoulder to his arm.

Tony was selfishly glad that she didn't let go. Part of him wanted to drink the bar dry, part of him wanted to run back to the Bruce's trailer – the last place he felt safe, part of him felt like saying fuck the East Coast enterly and booking the next flight to LA... but Pepper was there, grounding him, keeping him here. The only real option.

He didn't really know her, only communicated on the phone here and there through the years when it came to lawyers, but he had seen how she worked with him over the past two days and she deserved to be more than Obie's shadow. She was incredibly good, incredibly intelligent – he could see it, in the way her eyes narrowed at everything she looked at, taking it in, analyzing it – and she deserved to be COO. Hell, he was pretty damn sure Pepper knew more about SI than Obie did when it came right down to it, despite how long Obie had been involved by comparison.

Tony tried to ignore that Rhodey's little bodyguards followed them out, Pepper leading him effortlessly to the black town car that looked like every other damn town car there. Out of habit he stuffed his hand down the sides of the seats looking for a bottle but there was none – his father was dead, after all – and so he just slumped back in the seat, staring out the window like the dejected little kid he felt like at that moment.

"What did he say...?" Pepper asked carefully as the car rolled forward as per her instructions to return to the hotel. Tony couldn't fucking wait to be alone for one damn minute.

"Oh you know – the usual," he replied, deadpan, not bothering to tear his eyes away from the headstones as they passed by. "Vague threats, not so vague threats."

"Did he threaten your life?" Pepper needled, obviously concerned but Tony hated it. "You have a police detail. They should know. You should tell them. That alone –"

"No," Tony interrupted firmly. "This way is better. Better to beat him at his own game."

"I disagree. I –" There was a tremor in her voice and Tony didn't make her keep going.

"Hey."

He turned towards her, softening his voice, looking into her eyes and seeing how genuinely worried she was. She was in this now, too. She was gunning for his job – Obie had to know. She was going through his files, ratting him out. She was just as problematic as Tony was. Tony figured she had a right to be scared.

"He's been trying to get rid of me for years," he said, trying out a quick smile that was supposed to be reassuring but he was pretty sure by the strained one of her's it had mostly failed. "Pretty sure I'm going to survive this."

Thankfully Pepper got the message and glanced down at her phone after that poor attempt at a pep talk, allowing him to turn back to the window. Of course, he couldn't tell her the only reason he survived the paid assassin was because the guy he was fucking happened to be a goddamn monster but...

Tony found himself rubbing self-consciously at his neck. Regardless of what he might have said, what lies he might have told, Bruce had saved his life. Bruce blew his cover to save his life. It hadn't really occurred to him before that moment in his anger at having been deceived into believing Bruce cared about him, but after being surrounded by so many people who didn't give a shit about him... at least Bruce had cared that much.

Fuck. He found his hands wandering to the seams in the seat again, knowing there was nothing there but still. This shit was too much. He needed a drink. Or maybe a frontal lobotomy so he could completely forget what it was like to feel anything at all.