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TARGET LOCATED - RECLAMATION IN PROGRESS. STAND BY FOR RETURN ETA ** NO PR AT THIS TIME **
Huh - so he’d finally done it. All those years of wild goose chasing in the Arctic had finally paid off. Howard had located the Valkyrie - the plane that Captain Steven Grant Rogers had selflessly piloted into the ocean nearly five decades ago, saving countless lives with his noble sacrifice, yada yada yada.
Tony stifled the desire to make a smart ass response: “Way to Go, Pops” or “Roger on Rogers” and instead typed “ACK - standing by”. He’d only come into his father’s workshop to borrow a micrometer as Dum-E had apparently hidden his somewhere again. Tony was supposed to be monitoring the comm rig on a regular basis while Howard was out on his annual snipe hunt. He’d had been thrilled to take on the responsibility back when he was still a starry-eyed kid, but now? It seemed like a pointless waste of time.
He glanced up at the map on the wall, the current ten square mile search area outlined in red, with the previous years’ marks tracing back eastward across Greenland, growing fainter as they went. Howard was obsessed and had been since the war. No matter what else was going on in the real world, Howard always made time for his Arctic Expedition sometime between Memorial and Labor Day - five to seven weeks of fruitless searching. It was obvious that even dead and long gone, Captain America meant more to Howard than his own family.
Tony had always known he wasn’t ever quite good enough for his father; not worthy of the Stark name. God knows he tried; double majoring at MIT and graduating summa cum laude at seventeen. But even four years later, all Howard saw was his failures. The experiments that had gone wrong - but not what he’d learned from them. Impossible expectations leading to disappointments. Even the design work he’d been doing for the family business -- which he knew was years beyond any of their competitors -- seemed begrudgingly accepted at best. Howard didn’t even approve of Tony’s only friend, James Rhodes.
It wasn’t for what seemed the obvious reason. Dad was surprisingly non-prejudiced for someone of his generation; the Joneses and Moritas were frequent guests at the Stark home. It was that Rhodey stood up to Howard and wouldn’t let him talk to Tony the way he was accustomed to. Tony had told his friend not to bother, that he didn’t care, but he still spoke up. Politely, mind you; Mrs. Rhodes raised her boys to be respectful of their elders, but she’d also made sure they knew the difference between right and wrong. Her son thought the way Howard treated his son was wrong... but Tony had his doubts.
Rhodey had given him a hard time about going back to live with his parents; however, now that Tony had attained his majority, Howard had pressured him to come back to New York and start getting actively involved in Stark Industries. “Time to face up to your responsibilities, son. I haven’t built this business up from nothing to just give it up to the Board in a few years. Obediah excels in the role of a right hand man, but Stark Industries needs a Stark at the helm.”
Besides, it wasn’t a big deal. Tony would stay in the guest house while he looked for a place of his own and would barely have to deal with them. It would be nice to spend time with Jarvis and Ana, and maybe see Aunt Peggy -- she tried to make the trip up from DC at least once a month to have dinner with Howard and Maria.
Aunt Peggy ... he wondered if he should call her, let her know that Dad had at long last found Captain Rogers’ final resting place. Tony had pestered her for stories about “Cap’n ‘Merica” when he was little, had grown up with the posters on his bedroom wall. And as he’d gotten older, he wanted to know more about Steve Rogers, especially what he had been like before Project Rebirth. He thought he might have liked that guy - a scrappy runt who stood up to bullies no matter the cost. He might have liked him a lot.
And that was one of the many, many secrets Tony was keeping from his father - that he was attracted to men as well as women. At least he thought he was; he was still figuring that out. The posters and the newsreels and promotional films of Captain America had definitely been an influence. Tony wasn’t sure when hero worship had blurred into infatuation, but it wasn’t only Cap’s broad shoulders, amazing cheekbones and magnificent ass that had fueled Tony’s star-spangled fantasies. It was Aunt Peggy’s stories about how the inner Steve stayed the same good man, sincere and thoughtful, even after he’d been transformed into an Adonis. That was what made Tony wish he could have known the man behind the uniform.
And maybe that futile wish had carried over into his real life. Tony hadn’t really dated in college -- the age difference was a turnoff for most women -- but the few one-night stands he’d had were fun and he’d learned a lot. But there had been the time he’d drunkenly hit on a blond, blue-eyed hunk of a man at a dance club and they’d ended up frantically making out in a dark corner. That incident was seared into his memory, and he longed for more.
But being the son of Howard Stark meant being in the public eye; an eligible bachelor circled about by society matrons eager to to play matchmaker. The party Maria had thrown for his twenty-first birthday that spring was a perfect example. He’d been propositioned (indirectly and less so) half a dozen times within the first two hours; so when the next offer to “find somewhere quieter” came up, he acquiesced. The subsequent headlines splashed across the tabloids took him a little by surprise; he hadn’t realized the young woman had smuggled a video camera into the room. Maria was appalled, while Howard privately congratulated his son, simply cautioning him to keep a better eye on his surroundings before engaging in extracurricular activities.
As a result of the scandal, Tony found himself taking on the role of playboy as a defense mechanism as much as anything. The sooner he was identified as a love ‘em and leave ‘em type, the fewer women looking to marry into the family he’d have to fend off. It wasn’t what he wanted, but then again, since when had that ever mattered?
The next day, Tony went back into Howard’s workshop. He told himself it was to raid his stash of exotic solder alloys, but the first place he looked was the corner where the comm rig was set up. The light was flashing. Tony picked up the fax sheet and received the shock of his life.
SGR IS ALIVE - REPEAT - SGR SURVIVED CRASH. SEND JET TO UAK - ETA @ BASE ROUGHLY 72 HRS. KEEP UNDER WRAPS
Holy shit, Tony thought. That super soldier serum must have been a hell of a thing. He typed another ACK message, followed by “Additional instructions?” While waiting for Howard’s response, Tony discovered that UAK apparently was the international airport code for an airbase in Greenland he wasn’t even going to try to pronounce. The admin in charge of the Stark Industries air fleet thought he was joking, which was fair, as it wouldn’t be the first time Tony had tried to commandeer a company jet for a joyride.
Tony considered telling Obediah what was going on, but he had always disparaged Howard’s pet project, and besides, Stane was busy running the company while Howard was away. Instead, Tony got his mother involved. Terrifyingly efficient when she wasn’t crawling into a bottle, Maria Stark was someone everyone listened to if they knew what was good for them. Howard was indisputably the boss at Stark Industries, but Maria was the one who worked behind the scenes to help ensure his successes. New York society life was just as cutthroat as the business world, and dirty secrets abounded in both realms. Tony had inherited his finely honed sarcasm and ability to wield words as weapons from the formidable woman who had given birth to him.
After Maria made it clear that yes, Howard himself requested the jet be in Narsarsuaq three days from now, no she wasn't going to explain why, and if the admin wanted to keep his job, he’d start filing a flight plan ASAP, she joined Tony in the workshop to see what Howard wanted done next.