It is easier to get forgiveness than permission. -Stuart's Law of Retroaction

Howard Stark had a black 1990 Mazda Miata MX-5 before the US or Japan marketed them. Zero to 60 in 9.4 seconds. The keyword, of course, was had. Howard Stark also had one very determined son. After he was cleared from the hospital for minor head and neck injuries as a result of running a red light young Tony Stark knew the real pain was just about to begin.

He would ask Tony to sit on the couch in the den while he paced in front of him, scotch glass in hand. It was empty, but when Howard made the approach for the tumbler and poured himself a glass the alcohol wasn’t the only smell to hit the teenager’s nose. No, his senses were heightened to the point where he could detect disappointment in the air. It was a thick and horrible aroma.

"Anthony," he inhaled after a drink. The exhale never came because his son interjected.

"Look, it’s not totaled, Dad! Just the side’s a little...dented! The cops were able to drive it off the scene!"

"That woman hit you at over fifty miles an hour!"

Tony didn't respond, just sunk back into the couch and lowered his head slowly. It was still a little sore but he hadn’t noticed until then. What happened next Tony never expected. Howard Stark set down his scotch glass and sat next to his son then proceeded to hug him.

"You’re my only son, Tony. My only child."

His son still hadn't moved. He finally lifted his head a little and clapped his dad on the back, "C'mon. You’re sounding like mom." They both chuckled and found they sounded exactly the same. Howard finally exhaled and sat back.

"I only mean I don’t need to lose a child." Tony lifted a brow. "A teenager."

"Good to know you don’t want to start over," Tony smirked.

"No. One day everything that's mine now will be yours. And I've become comfortable with that," Howard said contently and reached for his drink. Tony was puzzled by this...it was rare for his father to ever mention his own mortality. He was a corporate giant and everything Tony hoped to live up to. Talking about death just seemed alarming, but the family had a close call.

"...Maybe you just weren’t meant to have it," Tony started. Howard furrowed his brow. "The Mazda, I mean...given the fact you helped forge the retaliation against Japan and all..."

Howard laughed, not out of humor but amused at his son’s attention to detail. "The things we do for our country don’t dictate the cars we drive. You have a lot to learn about economy. They were the ones that sold me the model before it hit the market." He was suddenly somber, "I'll always have that on my shoulders...but the world keeps on turning."

Silence ensued for a moment. "So, you're saying the basis of forgiveness is economics?" Tony smiled prompting Howard to do the same.

"Money isn’t everything, Tony, but it certainly has its place."

"So, everything is cool? I'm forgiven?"

Howard shrugged, "I think you’ve learned your lesson. I will miss that car, though. I've already put in an order for a new one."

"Any chance I'll ever get to give it another spin?"

Howard smiled over the rim of his glass, pat his son on the shoulder and stood, "No chance, kid."

50%? Huh. Room for improvement.

Hey Pepper. No going evil on me.

Is it ever okay to be a vigilante?

We're going with the real home run hitter questions, tonight? Okay, I'll play along.

I can say I ask myself this often, if what I'm doing is right. While I'm sure I blow the competition out of the water with my innovative mind and, well, dependency on my own technology I wonder if the world is ready for it in many ways. For example, I was (brace yourselves, public reprimands from myself be here) naive and distracted enough to realize my own company was dealing under the table with a major terrorist circuit across Afghanistan. My COO and father's best friend locked me out of my own company for a period of time and tried to have my killed. That part wasn't in the papers? Right. Moving on.

A lot of people in the media find me to be a particularly lively story. A billionaire who inherited his father's empire and could give a damn about world peace. That puts me out of a job. Suddenly, after three months of captivity, I come back to Malibu and start flying around and start correcting things. They say I'm not in a place to judge and always seem to bring up mental instability. Of course I'm going to say it's bullshit. "Good" and "Evil" are terms I don't necessarily agree with, but in print they sound like a great deciding factor like it's always been there in black and white and we're obviously missing something. Suddenly you're stopping some bastard from throwing himself into traffic and harming other people and you might as well be getting pulled over from the police for driving drunk. Radical actions like this that the everyday man and instated authority can't prevent are likely to upset the public. That's the curse of vigilantes.

If any man or woman has a love for something so great that they can spot flaws they should do all that is in their ability to bring them to attention. I'm not saying let's all rally in the streets and start anarchy because there's no advances in that. If people live or operate in a community it's important to know that aside from all the living they're doing there are threats against their way of life whether it be halfway across the world, downtown or in the corporate world. Some people have to be willing to defend or correct their people and the established way of life. We are given the benefit of the doubt, but someone is going to have to grow the balls and take a stand. But then again maybe I just like to raise a little hell and kick some ass.

32.2 Talk about a time when you were pursued by someone who you weren't interested in.

Conferences brought promises of a thriving corporations and new allies. Stark Industries had promised to take a new direction. The future was bright- all he had to do was lay relatively low as Rhodey and Pepper had reminded him. The possibility of an affair was an additional plus and not so out of character for a man of his reputation. During the times he wasn’t secured behind a binding tie for the sake of being serious Tony Stark made himself a familiar face at high profile parties and chic bars. Anywhere women who enjoyed a good time congregated Tony was willing to step in and let the ridiculous ones fight over him. He’d then play the worthy cynics for all they were worth and see if he had any luck.

The floor of the club shifted from one dull pastel color to the next. He had to check the crowd to make sure he had not sauntered into a gay club and that he hadn’t ended up traveling back through time. No, women were still toddling around in their short cocktail dresses with various accessories piled on (some more than others). So far he had no biters. This, however, did not discourage him in the least. If anything if left him a nice window of time to make his way to the bar and order himself a scotch. He found the oasis nearly empty. It seemed it was still early and the women had gravitated towards the bathroom to apply their makeup and check themselves in the mirror. The men hadn’t even bothered to arrive yet.

( As he took a seat, Tony took notice of an older woman across the bar )

Muse: Tony Stark
Fandom: Iron Man (movieverse)
Word Count: 829

TEN misconceptions others have had about you

1. I don't make time for fun.
2. I am the Board of Directors' bitch.
3. I follow every order/request Pepper gives.
4. I never enjoyed the nickname "The Merchant of Death"
5. That I don't appreciate the arts.
6. That I am talented in the arts.
7. I can't sleep at night without being "rocked".
8. My assistant dresses me.
9. I am just like my father.
10. I have never failed.

TEN things you do better than anyone else you know

Not in any particular order.

1. Blowing shit up.
2. Being innovative.
3. Saying exactly what I mean regardless of reception.
4. Getting Rhodey to lighten up.
5. Solidly employing the Press.
6. Calculating the odds/doing the math...however you want to put it.
7. I have a way with women.
8. Getting Pepper to make that face.
9. Winning at life in general at strategy games. If you beat me once I guarantee it won't happen again.
10. Persuasion.

Needs-a-Hug!Tony drabble for ironmonger from here

"Only one night, Obadiah...please. Caroline will be back in town tomorrow and anyone else watching him puts him at risk."

Obadiah Stane had faced many challenges in his lifetime in the business world. He helped usher in a new age for industrialists and weapons developers alongside his lifelong friend Howard Stark. Babysitting, however, was never an issue until Howard and Maria had gone to a Biological Weapons conference in Columbia. Due to the threat of activists Howard had taken no precautions and left his son and legacy at home. Obadiah could never for the life of him understand why Maria couldn't have stayed home. His place at that conference was reserved as well, but Howard saw fit to put his wife at risk instead while leaving him to stay at home and hold down the fort.

"Bored," the young boy sitting at the table tossed his head back and groaned. A newspaper was in front of him along with various activity books that were easily discarded. Most, in fact, were completed. As if the boy knew the older man was lost in thought and ignoring him he raised his voice, "BORED."

"Bored already, champ?" the iron-monger-turned-babysitter forced a smile as he stood up from the couch and strode over to the table. "You raced through those things, didn't you? Heh." He ruffled the boy's hair wondering subconsciously just how sharp that little mind would get, "How about some TV?" He picked up the massive remote which woke up the television, scrolling until he found The Muppets. Tony had already shown his disinterest by leaving the table and heading in the opposite direction of the TV.

"I wanna work on the hotrod," the child insisted on his way to the garage. Obadiah stayed quiet.

"Well, sport, I think you'll have to be with your dad for that one. That's his baby." It had only taken a few of his large strides to catch the boy by the arm. He wondered if the man's affection for that car rivaled the love of his son. Judging by Tony's request the loves of his life incorporated each other.

"I want Daddy and Mommy to come home," he tried to get his arm free but all effort was in vain. That didn't mean he was prepared to stop.

"And I want to be at that conference. Anywhere but here," Obadiah muttered under his breath, but the boy didn't miss a thing.

"Lemme go!" he squirmed, "Uncle Obi, lemme GO!" The squealing grew progressively louder until finally Obadiah's ears had had enough and he retracted Tony with such a force that the boy was swept off his feet and skid across the floor on his bum.

Silence.

Tony's large, brown eyes swelled up. This was no longer the same kid who had built a circuit board single-handedly nor rested in the arms of the president within the first year of his birth. This was not the brainchild of the nation. For the first time Obadiah had seen him, Tony Stark was actually acting his age: five.

"B-b-..." Tony started, unable to sound out the rest of his words due to the quivering of his lower lip. "D-d-d..." There was the first teardrops, but no actual cries emitted from the boy yet.

"Ah, don't cry," Obadiah sighed torn between irritation and pity for the kid. The pouty-lipped 5 year-old took a few shaky steps forwards. The man crouched down and pulled the boy towards him, burying his small head in his massive shoulders. For now he would ignore the tears and snot soaking into the fabric...he hadn't realized how tiny the kid was.

"It's alright. I got you. Uncle Obi's gotcha."

When Tony's breathing had regulated from the muffled bawls to something steady he moved the boy an arm's length away and pulled out the kerchief in his pocket to wipe his face. Tony wrinkled his nose, head moving about (obviously Maria had a gentler touch), but stood obedient.

"There. Feel better?" He waited for the wobbly-headed nod before scooping the boy up in one gesture and slinging him over his shoulder. The fit of sniffled immediately turned into giggles.

"I think we can still catch the Murpets, if you're interested."

"It's MUPPETS, Uncle Obi!" Tony giggled as he was slung back onto the couch cushions, bouncing as he landed. This was something Howard would never allow on his watch- but what Howard didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Now the boy was sitting still, large eyes transfixed on the television obediently. The smart-ass would wear away with some light coaxing as it turned out. Anthony might have been a genius, but he was still a kid. Obadiah just smirked and went to pour himself a scotch once he was sure the boy was settled.

"You gonna watch with me?" Tony asked once Obadiah's back was turned.

"Oh yeah. Just getting something to drink."

"Ok. Good," the boy sounded appeased and returned to the television program quietly. Stane just smirked and returned to the couch with his scotch to catch the end of Alice Cooper's performance.

That's right. You're going to need me. You don't even know it yet.

Wildly Inappropriate!Tony drabble for senseofliberty from here

Judging by the sunlight that let itself in through the massive windows of the room it wasn't too early...probably around 9 AM. Rachel Conway lay curled up in her bed with a pillow nestled close. She smiled at nothing in particular, just the feeling of overall comfort with no obligation nor clothing.

"Morning, Miss Conway."

"Morning, Mr. Stark," she smiled a moment longer before her eyes shot wide open.

Rachel froze with the sudden realization that this was not her bed at all: the voice next to her confirmed that entirely. Quickly she tried to replay what happened the night before.

Tony Stark had called Rachel Conway in the dead of night three days beforehand. She couldn't tell if the bold move was driven merely by his personality or (as the subtle slur in his voice indicated) by alcohol. Irritated, she notified him she would gladly accept pages of his autobiography for editing purposes by e-mail or postage, but he refused insisting the contents were to be seen first-hand and in person. Of course when she suggested he come to visit him he declined on the grounds he was a busy man. Grudgingly she boarded a plane to LA a day later. Despite the bad feeling in her gut she was nonetheless intrigued by the billionaire and open vigilante. He even arranged for a car to pick her up at the airport and return her to his Malibu home. Following a exorbitant dinner along with countless glasses of wine and scotch she...well, that was where the memories had ended. She hadn't remembered seeing a single scrap of paper the entire night.

"Ohh," she half moaned to herself before swiftly turning and slamming the nearest pillow down on the side of the bed. How DARE him!

No response. Not even an "Ow".

Rachel tilted her head as she lifted away the pillow to reveal a small intercom device that showed a projection of a man lifting a welding mask from his face. It was Tony Stark. "You'll find that doesn't work. Don't worry. Nothing happened."

A sigh of relief on her part.

"Literally. Nothing. I mean you were ready to pass out by the time I got the pages out. You'll find them scattered around the bedroom," he muttered, a certain irritation lingering in his voice.

"Oh," she flushed, leaning up to see that the bedroom floor was indeed littered with close to 200 sheets of paper. She noticed a smirk appearing on Tony's face as she sat up and quickly she gathered the sheets tightly around her body, scowling as she drew her knees up to her chest. "Then why am I...naked?" she asked with a furrowed brow.

"Well, I didn't think you would be comfortable sleeping in an outfit like that. They're being dry-cleaned as we speak. You should have brought pajamas."

"You undressed me?" she sounded shocked.

"Absolutely not!" he turned his attention away from whatever he was working on just off screen to assure her he was serious. "That was Pepper, my assistant."

She hung her head and exhaled once more in relief. "Well, I apologize for the mess, but I really should be going." She kept the sheets wrapped around her as she stepped out of the bed and started to pick up the papers off the floor.

"Don't worry, I've decided I'll e-mail them to you instead. Miss Potts will show you out. We should do this again sometime." A grin and Stark disappeared from the monitor. She dropped the few papers she had gathered on the floor and sighed, "So where am I supposed to find this Miss Potts or her clothes? Clutching her makeshift toga around her waist she peeked out into the empty house and ventured a few steps further. She found her freshly-pressed clothes hanging just outside the door and gave the bedroom a second glance before deciding to change somewhere more private.

She hadn't fund the note tucked into her blouse until she was in the car assigned to take her to the airport. It was on his official stationary: Thank you for the wonderful time, Rachel. I look forward to working with you in the future.

-T

Following this.

( Morning...or at least he thought it was morning... )

For iron_bodyguard on this drabble post :) Enjoy.

------

"Ride's here, Stark."

"Oh thank god."

The voice came from inside the first holding cell of the station. It wasn't from the crack-head nestled in the back corner of the cell, the man with defeat evident on his face or the guy who had cried his makeup and his fake eyelashes off. No, it was from the one pressing his face against the bars with the askew tie and the unbuttoned shirt sleeves.

Tony Stark looked like shit, to be frank. His eyes were bloodshot, hair quite askew like he had just greased it up with camel spit to one side. His knuckles were white, hands firmly gripped around the iron poles of the holding cell. When the prodigal son leaned away in relief the red imprint of the horizontal bar was still visible on his forehead. The cause of his alleviation was a police officer escorting a tall, decently built man with cauliflower ears, a nose that had taken a beating and an expression void of amusement plastered on his face: Harold Hogan...or just Happy for all ironic purposes.

"As I said before, Los Angeles County takes DUI very seriously, Mr. Stark. If it happens again we won't be so generous." The deputy fussed with the lock before sliding the bars open. He was surprised he had kept himself collected- Stark was perfectly composed mentally...the strong scent of scotch, vodka, an inebriated lady-friend and the breathalyser told a very different story.

Fifteen minutes after Stark had stepped out of the cell he stumbled alongside Happy towards the car. Evidently it was going to be a silent trip, but Tony wasn't having any of that. "Have to pick up the Rolls tomorrow," he smoothed his hand over his eye. No response again, Happy just trudged on. Underneath his eyes were tell-tale dark circles of a disturbed sleep. The Hawaiian shirt he had tossed on was off by two buttons at the bottom and beige cargo shorts out at such an early hour was simply unnatural.

"I would have called Pepper, but I like to divide my time equally between you two. Keeps us close." Tony slouched into the back seat of the car, head pressed against the window smashing the bit of upturned hair back against his head.

"I would say you've outdone yourself, but somehow I'm not surprised," the chauffeur, no the long-term friend, replied with a brief snort. Driving drunk..stupid thing to do. Waking him up at 3:00 AM was an even worse decision. "If you want me to actually get you places remember I need the sleep." He was in no state or mood to lecture Tony. No, he didn't even want to know the whole story- he heard enough on the phone from the officer.

No matter how long one was around Tony Stark (regardless of a strictly-business relationship or something friendlier) one learned never to be surprised if they could help it. Happy wasn't willing to lose any more sleep once he got home of awe that Tony could talk his way out of a serious offense with such ease. They might as well have let him depart with complimentary bottle of wine. His eyes drifted to the review mirror and he noticed Stark had passed out with his mouth open. Happy snorted, amused.

Never failed. It was impossible to stay mad. Luckily Tony had missed the opportunity to smugly make his usual point.

Apparently the heat makes people crazy.

That's debatable.

...I'll just pretend that first one isn't creepy.
Very likely.
No use hiding it.
Without a proper date?
105%.
...Not good for business. Sorry.
*grins* Only if it's a challenge.
Pepper!

MEMO deliver to care of PEPPER POTTS takingouttrash via TONY STARK.

MESSAGE not encrypted or unable to read. See ATTACHMENT.

( URGENT )