Title: Ten Things To Know About Tony Stark

Summary: ... these are ten things about Tony Stark... the end.

Disclaimer: I... still don't own them.

In response to the Ten Things challenge on the forum from Misgiving Writer :D

Tony was ten years old.

It was raining.

He was surrounded by his team mates, wearing the itchy, too-tight grey baseball pants and the scratchy shirt and the baseball cap.

After much consideration and insisting from Tony's mother, his father had signed him up for a recreational baseball team.

So here they were, at a little baseball field in Long Island, and Tony was up to bat next. It was the last inning, and the two teams were tied. He was really nervous. His dad (because his mom told him to) had taken the day off for his game. He wanted to make him proud.

The helmet was too big. It wobbled around on his head uncomfortably. The other boys seemed to be a lot bigger than him, but he knew for a fact that they didn't understand the science of hitting a baseball. They were too dumb to understand that.

He picked up the bat and went up to the plate. He could see his parents sitting in the bleachers, two bodyguards holding umbrellas above them.

They looked out of place in this environment. It wasn't their natural habitat. His mother was dressed in a nice red v-neck shirt and a black skirt with black high heels, her silky black hair up in a tight bun and a pearl necklace around her neck. His father wore a red tie and a suit. Tony smiled at them. His mother smiled back. His father checked his watch.

Tony looked at the pitcher as he threw the first ball.

"Strike one!" Tony shot a look at the umpire, who ignored him.

They pitcher threw another ball, and Tony forgot to swing.

"Ball!" he guessed it was a good thing.

The pitcher threw another, and Tony swung, just then realizing how awkward it was to swing such a large hunk of metal.

"Strike two!" he looked at his mom, who smiled encouragingly and gave him the thumbs up. His father was talking on the phone.

The pitcher threw again, and this time, Tony swung early, holding the bat in front of the ball until it hit it. Then he ran. He got to first base. The catcher scrambled to get the ball, and tripped himself up. He got to second base. The catcher tried throwing it to the pitcher, but the pitcher missed it, and it was sent rolling away. He was running for third. The pitcher picked the ball up and tried throwing to the third basemen, but he put too much force behind it and it flew over the basemen's head.

Tony ran for home.

And he got there. His team cheered and he was beaming. His breath was coming a little hard, but that didn't matter. He had just won the game for his team. The game was finished, and he could go home, and his dad might even be proud of him.

He looked over to his mom. She was standing and clapping, making the guard work to keep the umbrella over her. His father was gone.

Tony frowned.

He gathered his water bottle and went over to join his mother.

"Where's dad?" he asked, looking around.

"He, uh, he had to go to work, sweetie. But I'm sure he'll be proud of you," She told him, smiling reassuringly.

A terrible, wrenching feeling sunk into the pit of his stomach. His father had to go to work. He had to go to work, right as Tony won the game. He had to go work, instead of watching him play. Tony looked down, blinking at his feet and trying not to cry. It was ridiculous- so his dad had to go to work? So what? That doesn't matter? Who cares? But Tony cared. He got a homerun. He was trying to be the son that his dad wanted, but how was he supposed to do that when he was always being ignored.

"It's okay, Tony. Let's go celebrate! Would you like some ice cream?" Tony shook his head. His mom frowned.

"Let's just go home, mom."

Tony never touched a bat again.