Tony was in a random bar down the street from the campus when he got Howard's first call. He ignored it and the two that followed, since his father was the very last person he wanted to talk to right now. He finally picked it up on the fourth call, figuring it was the only way to get the guy to leave him alone. But he didn't answer until he waved the bartender down for his fifth Jack and Coke.

"What is it, dad? I'm kind of in the middle of something."

"Where the hell are you, Tony?" Howard's voice came through the phone. Tony rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue at nothing in particular. "I've been trying to get a hold of you for almost an hour."

Tony scoffed into the phone. "Please. Barely half that. What do you want?"

"I want you to come home. Right now."

"It's Satur—" Tony caught a glimpse of the clock above the bar, "—uh, Sunday. I have class tomorrow. Besides, I can't drive right now. And since I can't just put on a jet pack and fly, and I'm not actually Superman, I ain't goin' anywhere."

Howard sighed sharply into the phone. "Is this the phone I gave you?"

Tony pulled the cell from his ear, examined it with one eye, and brought it back. "Stark Industries logo on the back; I'm going with yes."

"Knock it off, Tony. And stay put. I'm tracking your phone's GPS. I'm gonna send Milton to get you."

"Ooh, do I get to ride in the StarkJet or the Starkopter? What are you suddenly in a rush to see me for anyway? Did somebody die or something?" He felt like he was dying, he thought, as he tipped more liquor into his mouth.

It was silent on the other line. "We'll talk about it when you get here."

"Fine, whatever, dude."

Tony hung up and ordered himself another drink. It wasn't long before he passed out and when he next woke, he was in his boxers in his bed in the New York mansion, wondering how he got there and why the right side of his jaw was sore. Then he remembered Howard's call and later, flashes of being carried from a helicopter into the giant house. He grinned then grimaced at the realization that he finally got to ride in the Starkopter but didn't remember a damn thing about it. And then he remembered Pepper had punched him. He rolled out of bed to pee, ended up puking, and showered before dressing in jeans and a Van Halen tee then headed downstairs to raid the refrigerator.

He decided to cross through the dining room. He instantly regretted his decision when he found Howard in there. He was sitting at the head of the dining table, like a king lording over his castle, a stack of stapled, crisp white papers in one hand, a mug that had the Stark Industries logo across it in the other, and a laptop open on the table in front of him. Howard spotted him immediately and looked at him over the rim of his reading glasses.

"Well, look who's up at the bright and early hour of…" He set down the mug and checked his watch. He frowned and said, "three-fifteen in the afternoon."

Tony smiled at the disdain in Howard's voice. "Yeah, well, technically I was up forty-five minutes ago, but I had to puke, shit, and shower, so… You seen my phone? I can't find it."

"It's being fixed." He grinned at Tony's blank look. "You threw it against the wall when Milton tried to take it from you when he was putting you to bed."

Tony looked up, laughed to himself. "Oh, right." He started to turn to leave but Howard called him back.

"Sit down." He motioned to one of the chairs near him.

Tony sighed. "Look, I don't know what it is you want to lecture me about, but I'd like to get something in my stomach before you do. Unless you want my vomit all over that pretty little suit of yours," he added with a charming smile.

"Clara." A moment after Howard called for her, a woman in her fifties, clad in a blue and white maid's uniform shuffled into the room. "Go ahead."

Tony's eyes moved from Howard to Clara and back. "I can get the food myself."

"That's the beauty of being a success, Tony. You don't have to get anything yourself. You can pay people to get it for you."

"Hm, that's weird, 'cause the one lesson I remember you teaching me was that I was on my own. And anything I wanted I had to get myself."

Howard's dark eyes, an older wiser pair that matched his son's, narrowed at Tony. "Get him whatever he wants, Clara." He returned his attention back to the papers in his hand.

Clara turned tired gray eyes to Tony, waited patiently. Tony rolled his eyes and pulled out the chair at the other end of the six-seat table. "Two pieces of white toast, no butter, and a glass of water, no ice, please."

"Right away, Master Stark," she said softly.

"Don't call me…master," he mumbled after she disappeared. "So? What's the BFD that you had to drag me all the way up here?"

Howard lowered his reading glasses again. "BFD?"

"Big. Fucking. Deal?"

Howard scoffed, set down his stack of papers, and laced his fingers over his flat stomach. "You know, I wouldn't have had to drag you if you weren't drunk off your ass last night."

Tony thought back to the previous night, to before he got wasted; the way Loki looked so disappointed in him. Now he wished he had a glass of vodka in his hand. He focused on Howard. "You didn't drag me anywhere."

If Howard noticed the change in Tony's tone or demeanor, he didn't show it or he ignored it. "Why were you drinking, Tony?"

Tony's eyes went to the mug by Howard's papers. "What's in the mug there?" Howard's mouth tightened and he sent Tony an impatient look. Tony fanned out his fingers on both hands. "Why do most people drink, Howie?"

Howard groaned softly, rubbed his fingers over his forehead. "Please don't call me Howie. You know how much I hate that."

"Yep. I do know."

"Nice bruise."

Tony ignored Howard's comment. The room went quite as Clara returned, carrying in a plate of toast and a tall glass of water and set it in front of Tony. The minutes ticked by as he ate and drank. Every once in awhile, his and Howard's eyes would meet. When he popped the last piece into his mouth, Howard finally spoke.

"Better?"

"Nope," Tony said after swallowing. "So what is it? Whatever it is, I didn't do it, and if I did just wave a few hundred dollar bills at them and fix it."

Howard chuckled darkly. "Boy, I really made it easy for you, didn't I?"

Tony's laugh started low and short then grew, and grew, and grew, until he was practically rolling around in his chair, clutching at his stomach and fighting for breath. "Oh, man! You should've been a stand-up comedian, dad." Tony wiped at his damp eyes before setting them on the man across the table. "You didn't do shit for me. Can I go back to D.C. now?"

Howard was less than amused. "You're not going back. Not this week."

Tony chuckled again. "That's funny, too."

"I'm not joking, Tony," he responded with a shake of his head. The smile was wiped from Tony's face. "You're staying put, right here in New York, where I can keep an eye on you."

Tony snorted. "Keep an eye on me? Are you fucking kidding? I can't just miss classes. I'm not in high school. I'm working on a damn degree here!" Brushing Howard off with a literal wave of his hand, Tony pushed his chair back and got to his feet. "I'm not staying. I got things to take care of."

"Like what, your boyfriend?"

Tony stumbled to a halt and something twisted in his gut. Grinning awkwardly, he turned to look at Howard who had risen from his chair and was walking toward Tony. "What? How did you know about him? Is that why I'm here? Is that why you're making me stay the week?" He laughed; a dark, mirthless snort. "What were you gonna do, Howard? Buy me a couple hookers and make them fuck the gay out of me?"

Howard's palm made a loud echoing smack in the large room when it connected with Tony's cheek. Tony was so shocked by the slap that he lost his balance and tumbled into the chair he was sitting in just minutes earlier. He looked up at Howard with eyes wide and round with shock. "Shit. I'm sorry, Tony."

Tony recoiled from Howard when the older Stark reached out to him. Without Howard's help Tony straightened and rubbed at his sore cheek, tasted blood from the cut where his lip split in the corner of his mouth. "Don't worry about it," he mumbled. "Pepper socked one to me last night, too. So now I have a matching set. Excuse me."

"Where do you think you're going?" Howard wrapped his fingers around Tony's bicep and pulled him back. Tony shoved him away. "I told you. You're staying."

"What part of I don't want to be here are you not comprehending, Howard? Because I don't want to be here! I don't want to be anywhere in the vicinity of you." He moved his hands around, in every which direction, in the space between him and Howard. "I don't know what you hope to accomplish by keeping me prisoner, like, fuckin' Rapunzel in her tower, but believe whatever it is, it won't work. And you still haven't told me who fucking told you?!"

"Your girlfriend telephoned me last night!"

"I don't have a girlfriend!"

Howard groaned irritably and pressed both of his hands to his face. "Tony, I don't understand why everything has to turn into a fight with you. Why do you have to be so goddamn hard-headed?"

Pissed off to the point that his eyes were wet with angry tears, Tony scrubbed at his face, unconsciously mirroring Howard's earlier move. "Family trait," he muttered behind his hands.

Howard sighed. "Did you break up with Pepper for this…guy?"

"Oh, Jesus Christ, dad…" Tony's hands went into his hair and left it rumpled when he finally dropped them. "Pepper was never my girlfriend."

"Yes she was. That's why was I inviting her and her boring parents to my Christmas parties the last couple of years."

"No, you did that because that's what you do. You invite people to your oversized house, to show off your oversized cars and oversized shit, to feed your oversized ego. You assumed she was my girlfriend because you caught us making out on my sofa when you showed up announced at my dorm and invited her without asking me—as per usual."

"If she wasn't your girlfriend then what the hell was she?"

"I believe the term is fuck buddy." Tony shrugged when Howard frowned disapprovingly at him. "But there's also bed buddy, booty call, a friend with benefits, no strings attached—take your pick."

Howard grinned darkly. "You're pretty proud of yourself, aren't you?"

"Someone has to be—genuinely, at least. By the way, that guy, as you so passive-aggressively refer to him, has a name. It's Loki Odinson."

Howard started to brush that off but the name struck a chord with him. "Odinson? You mean that kid who got in a fight with his dad that day I came to visit? The senator's kid? That's who you're…who you gave up that red-headed piece of ass for?"

Tony snickered. "And you wonder where I learned how to treat women the way I do…," he muttered. "I didn't give up anything. Pepper never meant anything to me. She's better off."

"You're right on that account; she could do better, and probably already is doing better."

"That's not what I meant—"

"In fact, I don't see why you don't just end it with this Loki person now." He paused, holding Tony's gaze. "Clearly, you don't know what it takes to have a loving, nurturing relationship—why waste your time on one that won't go anywhere anyway? Or one that you'll end up screwing up, because, let's face it, Tony, that's what you do best."

Tony gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to strike out at Howard and to curl up into a ball right then and there. Because a small part of him, that stupid part that initially saw Loki as a challenge to conquer, the darkest side of him, knew Howard was right. Shut up. He said it in his head—unsure if he was saying it to himself or to Howard—but he couldn't seem to get his lips to move, as Howard droned on and on.

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.

"I don't know what you think is between you and this guy, but it ends now. It's probably one of your little dramatic stunts, like the car or that incident with the brandy, all those years ago. I don't know who you think is buying it anyway. You've been chasing anything in a skirt since you hit puberty. Cost me a lot of money to keep that shit out of the papers so you didn't ruin the good name of this company."

Shut up. Shut. Up.

Shut the fuck up.

"And what the hell for? Your pathetic little desire to humiliate and embarrass me, the one piece of family you have left on this planet? For Christ's sake, you're twenty-one years old; start acting like it, Tony."

Howard let out a surprised shout when Tony fisted his hands in his dress shirt and shoved him backwards until the elder Stark's back hit the mahogany-lined wall. All while a guttural growl emanated from his throat.

"Tony…!"

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!"

Howard's eyes went round as he struggled to find his footing. Somehow Tony had lifted him a good foot off the ground. His legs kicked out trying to find the floor, but only found empty space. Breathing was starting to get increasingly difficult with Tony's fists pressing deep into his chest. "Ton—…"

"Shut up! Just shut up," he whispered, shaking his head. "You…you're such an asshole." A tear rolled down his face alongside his nose, getting lost in the dark hair of his goatee, but it was ignored by both father and son. "I can't even…so much I want to say to you, I can't…put the words…fuck!" Where was Loki when he needed him? The thought made his heart hurt and he pressed further into Howard's chest. The elder Stark choked and clawed at his shirt.

"I can't breathe…" Tony eased off, stepped back, stumbling until he fell against the corner of the dining table. Howard gasped for air, glaring at Tony. "Are you crazy?" He unbuttoned his shirt, still trying to catch his breath. "You could've killed me."

"You should've let me…" Tony mumbled.

"What?" Howard rounded on him. "Why would I let you kill me? Fucking Christ, Tony, what the hell is wrong with you?"

"You," he said quietly, raising his swimming brown eyes. Howard went still. "You hate me so much, I hate myself for you." He snickered once, a short insincere snort. "Can't be easy having me as a son…I'm such a burden on you."

Howard grabbed Tony's shoulders and shook him hard. "Tony, I don't know… Why are you saying all of these horrible things? I don't hate you."

Tony's face scrunched into a frown and he shoved Howard back as he stood. "Liar!" Like a frightened little girl, Howard held out his hands to ward Tony off. "Don't even stand there, looking me in the eye, and deny the fact that you wish it was me in that car, not her!"

Howard's body went rigid at that. He straightened, aimed a finger at Tony. "Don't you bring that up now, Tony. Don't talk about her."

"Why not?! She was my mother, goddammit, just as much as she was your wife! Why don't I get to miss her, too?" Tony didn't move even as Howard rushed him, this time digging his fists into Tony's shirt, and shaking him violently.

"You shut your goddamn mouth right now! My Maria would still be here if it wasn't for your sorry ass!" Regretting his words instantly, Howard pulled his hands from Tony and turned his back to him. He kicked at the chair nearest him and silently scolded himself. He turned when a humorless laugh bubbled up from Tony.

"And the truth shall set you free." Howard's guilty face made Tony uncomfortable. And when Tony Stark was uncomfortable he made jokes, however inappropriate. "That was your favorite bible quote, wasn't it, Howie? Or was that just your favorite Jim Carrey movie quote?" He cursed the tears that filled his eyes, making it difficult to see anything.

"Tony, I didn't—"

"Could you do me a favor?" Tony's voice was tight, constricted with numerous years' worth of unreleased emotions suddenly wanting to burst out. But it was light at the same time, as if he was about to ask Howard to pass the salt. "Stop holding that against me?"

Howard stared, unmoving, unsure what to do—what he could do. He had never seen Tony so unraveled and it made him uneasy to watch.

"'Cause, uh, if you're going to keep throwing that in my face every few years, this is never gonna work, this father-son shit we keep trying to pretend isn't totally fucked up. And, you know, as much as you blame me and wish it was me instead of her…" His chin quivered and Howard had to look away, staring at the floor miserably. "The truth is you couldn't possibly know how much I wish I'd gone on that drive with her."

He laughed through the tears that filled his eyes, because how else was he supposed to deal with them? He plunged his hands into the pockets of his jeans and kicked his feet at the carpet. He brought one hand up, rubbing at his eyes, let out a rueful laugh.

"If you wanted me out of your way, you should have just let me finish the job when I was fourteen."

Howard covered his eyes with one hand, as if it would hold back the tears, and turned his back to Tony again. "Jesus fucking Christ, Tony, why are you saying this?"

Tony's hands were in front of him now, his fingers worrying together in a nervous habit that he often hid by snapping his fingers and making popping noises with his hands. "You want to know why? I'll tell you." He waited for Howard to look at him. "Loki."

Howard's eyebrows, graying now, drew together. "What…? What the hell does that—he have to do with anything?"

"Everything," Tony said on a small laugh. "You think this is a fluke. You think I'm with him to piss you off or whatever. Howard, I spent the last decade of my life hating myself and hating you for letting me hate myself because of…her. You don't even know the guilt I carry with me since that day twelve years ago."

Howard's jaw clenched. "I said I didn't want to talk about it."

"Fine, then. Just stick it back in that little corner of your brain where you hide everything you don't want to deal with. Including me." Howard's eyes slid his way. "And leave me in there with her." Tony stepped closer to his father, the tears gone now, but traces of their tracks still on his cheeks.

"What are you talking about?"

Tony swiped his fingers over his nose, sniffling. "I'm about to say some shit to you that you're not gonna like."

Howard turned his body so he could fully face his son. "What…?" He swallowed the lump in his throat. "Go on then."

"It's not a fluke. It's not a joke. Being with Loki? It's a necessity, like oxygen. I need him because for the first time in my life, I don't wake up every day wishing I was dead." Tony watched as Howard's jaw dropped and he raised a hand to cover it. "I might have fucked it up, like you said I would, because I was too scared to admit to a girl I don't give a shit about that I fell for another man." He sighed when his eyes filled again. "Fuck," he muttered, blinking them away. "I may have lost the best thing I've had since mom was alive. And the worst part of this whole thing is that the one person who might understand, who might actually be able to help deal with my feelings for Loki and help me to not fuck up…is you."

"Me?"

"You are the only person I know who has had a successful loving, nurturing relationship. And if what I've been feeling since everything went down last night, which I'm sure Pepper gave you a very one-sided view of, is anything like what you've been feeling since Mom died…" his voice broke, wavered. "Well. I'd hate me, too."

Tony felt himself completely break inside and with a strangled cry, turned and fled from the room, just missing the hand that Howard had started to lift to him.

Howard had Milton fly Tony back to D.C. that night. Tony still didn't get to enjoy the ride in the Starkopter. He'd passed out before liftoff from the half-bottle of Royal Crown he had swiped from Howard's stash. Because it was late, Milton situated Tony in a hotel, which only allowed Tony to raid the expensive liquor supply in the room's mini-bar. Milton decided to stay, to keep an eye on him, until he slept it off.

But that moment never came. When Tony Stark went on a bender, especially one with this much emotional fuel behind it, he went hardcore. Milton watched Tony drink himself into a stupor, trying in vain to get some type of food in his body, but Tony refused anything that didn't come in a glass, on the rocks, or in a bottle. Milton let him talk. He went into rants and rages about his father. He alternated between sweet, gentle words and harsh, cutting remarks about someone named Loki, whom Milton eventually concluded was the object of Tony's affections as of late. And that because of the possible loss of said affections, was the catalyst of the mess of the entire weekend.

As a longtime employee of the Stark family, going back to when Howard himself was Tony's age and Milton worked as personal valet to Howard's father, it broke his heart to see how the two men had crumbled under the loss of Maria. Howard's own father suffered from alcoholism and it seemed to be a tradition that was being passed down from generation to generation.

Often, Milton had to bite his tongue around Howard, specifically when the elder Stark would complain about and criticize his only child. Did the man not see how Tony longed for his attention and affection? Did he not see that everything Tony had studied, created, invented was all to make his father proud, to prove that he was capable of inheriting the family's legacy?

Did he not recognize his younger self in his heir?

Another tradition passed down in the family Stark? Narcissism. It was a front, of course. None of them actually believed the bullshit they fed themselves and others, but it was a coping mechanism to handle their total inability to deal with their emotions. The Stark men were a proud breed and kept many secrets even from each other. Milton was sure Howard didn't know his son was not the first Stark man to indulge in "the love that dare not speak its name"—as Howard's mother used to call it.

But it was not Milton's place to judge or divulge.

So he kept quiet, kept the Stark family secrets locked away in his mind. When he returned to New York on Tuesday, after leaving Tony to his vices at his dorm, Milton made no mention of Tony's binge or the state in which he had to leave the younger Stark to Howard. Tony's roommate, a large Norse god-like blond, was returning from class as Milton stepped out of the building. Milton wanted badly to warn him, to make sure he was able to care for Tony. But, as usual, as he was trained to do, Milton held his tongue and obediently returned home to his employer.