A/N: this one was inspired by the line in the video montage at the beginning of the movie, about Tony being the prodigal son returning to run his father's company. As I am attempting to maintain to something like a pre-established timeline, it made sense to add my own little twist to this even.
And Obadiah's point of view is deliciously evil to write from.
Tony went through a rebellious phase almost immediately, making him a problem that had to be attacked from the right angle. And as he had a large personal stake in SI, knowing exactly what strings to pull with the Stark heir was imperative. Mercy wasn't even a consideration at this point.
The plans that had been laid out years ago – plans involving the use of Tony's name, and his brain, and his talents, all of them so precious as a viable commodity and not truly for any other reason – were suddenly in danger of becoming irrelevant. He turned away from them as certainly as someone would turn away from a dead end road and he started trailblazing a new one, blindly. He moved immediately to California from New York, not because had any intense desire to live in California, but living in LA meant that Rhodes wasn't too far away and the lieutenant so far was the only person not giving him angry lectures about his legacy and responsibilities whenever he showed his face. He started building a house there and bought another one to live in until the one he'd designed was finished. The interim house in Brentwood was bigger than the penthouse he'd been living in, but smaller than the home he was building. The neighborhood was good though, and the floors were all carpeted. All the better for soft little knees, and hands, and heads.
Obadiah put a spin on it of course. He'd had to. The media had picked up on things almost right away, put two and two together, and somehow gotten a sealed birth certificate out of it. Well, not an entire birth certificate, but they knew all they needed to which was that one Anthony Edward Stark was listed as the father of and held custody over one Anna James Stark. It was the kind of news that respectable journalists dug into and the kind that the not-so-respectable journalists had a field day with. A dozen women were interviewed, all claiming to be Anna's mother. Market analysts made doom and gloom predictions about the future of Stark Industries. The Board of Directors was absolutely livid; Obadiah who acted as their go between was just as livid. But then, he'd also been dealing with Tony Stark almost since before the latter could walk, and so knew better than to show it. He advised the Board to move Stark Industries' center of operations to LA – tell the investors that they were going to be able to get more advantageous tax breaks on the West Coast, that being closer to the Silicon Valley suppliers was going to save them money in the long run, say whatever well needed to be said in order to make this work because right now it didn't matter if Tony Stark was a genius or not. What mattered right now was that Tony Stark was a twenty-year-old genius and he had the bit in his teeth. Right now, the survival of Stark Industries relied in part on keeping the relevant Stark happy.
"See this?" One afternoon about a month after most of the financial sector and the military/politico/talking head types had been set on their ears, Obadiah relaxed on a brand new armchair in the family room of the Brentwood house, a copy of Newsweek in one hand and a tumbler of scotch in the other. Tony sat – sprawled – directly across on a similarly new leather couch that was already marked with the kind of stains most babies make. His eyes were closed, emphasizing the dark shadows underneath. When he finally deigned to crack his eyes open, Obadiah waggled the magazine with a sort of beset dignity. "Now you're the Prodigal Son."
Tony focused his eyes on the cover once the magazine stopped moving. "Prodigal means wasteful, not wandering," he muttered, rearranging Anna slightly in the crook of his arm.
"You're splitting hairs, Tony. In this case one is more or less the same as the other." Logic was just about the only thing that didn't set the kid's back up immediately these days, and even then he had an annoying tendency to ignore what he didn't want to hear. "We're talking about keeping several thousand people employed," he continued patiently. "And that's just under the umbrella of Stark Industries. Why don't you use that brain of yours to factor in what the loss of custom from your company is going to do to all our suppliers and distributors."
"Stark Industries isn't going to fold just because I'm not at the head of the company. Everyone would have been just as upset about the appointment of a twenty-one year old CEO."
In anyone without facial hair, that tone would be described as "pouty."
Obadiah took a slow sip of his drink, holding it on his tongue, savoring the smoky tang. The deliberateness of the action helped him control his tone. "No, the media would have been upset, and they'd probably have gotten the common folk out there just as upset. But as neither of those segments of the population have a terrible amount of influence over whether or not the US government seeks contracts with SI, the storm would have blown over. What won't blow over is if the people in New York and Washington – in short, the people who actually matter – start to believe that you're not simply taking a temporary leave of your senses due to stress."
Tony's frown was instantaneous at the mention of his mental state. "I'm not insane, I'm serious. I remember what it was like when I was young, okay? The only reason I saw so much of Dad was because I understood how to build things. If I had needed constant supervision in the shop, I wouldn't have been allowed down there. I want to be more accessible for Anna. I made a commitment to her, Obie. I made a commitment to myself when I gave her my name."
"No one is trying to argue that point. Least of all me." No, he has to remain the good guy, the go-to guy, the understanding ear, the steady shoulder. He also has to stifle the urge to roll his eyes when the kid snorts and starts to look mutinous. "I'm serious, Tony. Your parents would be proud of you for the way you've stepped up." Talking Tony around was in the kid's best interest. He needed someone to guide him. "You've done the Stark name proud. This time."
Tony, who had been relaxing his guard tensed up, startling Anna awake. "What does that mean?" he demanded as he quickly soothed her surprised wails into a sort of unhappy baby whimpering sound.
Obadiah watched this almost second nature reaction carefully, storing the scene away for later review. "You know it was your father's dream to see you take over the company," he said just a little absently. But the words found their target anyway and a glimmer of guilt moved over that fluidly expressive face. "Your father was so thrilled when you were born. You were your parents' miracle, even without your special talents. After you were born, he worked hard to keep the company at the forefront of the industry. You inspired him to pass on the best legacy he could."
Another slow, deliberate sip of Scotch. The words needed time to die in the air, to resonate in the ear. When Tony started shifting uncomfortably on the couch, Obadiah hid a satisfied smile.
"It's time for Anna's bottle," the younger man muttered, levering himself up off the couch. Obadiah followed Tony with his eyes for a few seconds, allowing him to leave to room before slowly following after. In the kitchen, Tony was shaking a bottle of formula with a kind of barely restrained violence.
Excellent.
"Tony, I'm saying all this to you as a friend, okay? Clearly, you're going to do what you think is right. That's a mark of a true man, the guts to stand by your convictions. But now that you've made your parents proud, maybe it's time to think about your daughter."
Tony's head jerked up; he looked absolutely stricken. "I am."
Obadiah placed his now empty glass in the sink, and pinned Tony under a steady gaze. Even while he manipulated the father, he couldn't help but notice the differences in the daughter. Where Tony had been a fussy child, needing nearly constant stimulation, Anna appeared happy enough just to be held. It was really too early to tell, of course, but hopefully the daughter easier to manage than the father.
"I don't doubt that you have good intentions, Tony. I know you want the very best for her, but maybe you should consider the possibility that the best for Anna may include a father who lives up to all of his responsibilities. The hard ones along with the familial. Becoming the CEO of Stark Industries will open up opportunities for you that your fortune alone won't be able to. Opportunities you can pass on to her."
That was probably enough for one day. Obadiah straightened up and tugged at his shirtsleeves. "Look, I've already talked to the Board and they're willing to make a few concessions if it means bringing you on board where you belong. So just think about what I've said, and we can talk more tomorrow. You can be a family man and a business man at the same time, and honestly, Stark Industries will start to fade unless you step up like your father always hoped you would." One last turn of the screw to make sure the words stuck. By tomorrow the kid should be in a position to be brought into line. "I'll make reservations for lunch at the West Beach Club."
Dazed, Tony nodded but said, "I'll have to bring Anna."
"That won't be a problem; I'll arrange for a private room. You go ahead and bring her. This does concern her too, after all." Obadiah cupped one hand to the small head covered in downy baby curls. "You're holding the next generation of Stark Industries in your arms, m'boy. The decisions we make in the next few weeks will shape the company you someday leave to her."
Anna James. What a name. It was the kind of thing only Tony would consider.
God save them from any more foolish decisions.
Tony tugs first at his tie, and then at the collar of his shirt before rolling his shoulders under the expensive Italian silk suit coat. Anna was fussy but he didn't dare pick her up because the last time he'd tried she'd spit up and he'd had to go change his shirt and Obie was already getting antsy to go.
As he watched Julie hoist Anna up and start burping her again, he tucked his hands into his pockets. He was having a hard time remembering why he'd agreed to any of this. Not the hiring of a nanny – that would have had to happen eventually, even if he'd just intended to be a simple engineer. But a CEO? Of a company that was in the process of relocating across the country?
"Tony, it's time. We've got a press conference to get to." Obie came up from behind him and slung an arm around his shoulders. "Com'on. The hardest part will be getting out the door. Everything will get easier after that."
"Why's that?" Tony reluctantly allowed himself to be led out of the nursery. That Anna was starting to calm down was what made it possible.
"Because you're doing the right thing. This is for the best."
Tony nodded, even though he felt a little hollow. Yeah, it was. Obie hadn't steered him wrong yet.