a portion of a rhodey!fic that is being tossed out, in the game of Survive or Scrap, into the Land of Misfit Words. mainly because i have no idea what was - or is - the project for the fic. just. lots of playing with rhodey,

TETE A TETE
rhodey

But look:

You've known him since he was pre-scruff and when he was scrawn. When Tony was finally post growth spurt, but still plenty of complaints about the faults in Maria's genes. When Tony was post failed circuity projects, the stepping stones to something bigger, based off a someone named Jarvis. (JARVIS doesn't get completed until Tony's 22nd.)

(It was Tony's way to deal with the loss and grief and you know something about that yourself. You were three and a half and you lost your third favorite - but not any less loved - cousin. You collected dandelions, his favorite, for a year, with help of your sister, and your baby logic was convinced it would bring him back somehow, because he always held you close and blew the dandelions that you couldn't, because you didn't have enough strength in your baby lungs to do so.)

You've known Tony when he and you were newly postundergrad, and you were there at the funeral standing beside him, the both of you in your dark starchy suits. You caught how Tony kept twisting the brass ring around his finger, all throughout Obadiah's heartfelt speech. The brass rat circled over and over, as the eloquent words carried over the crowd, about Tony's parents, about how much they left behind, their legacies, and you remember how the crowd kept making indiscreet looks at Tony.

You hadn't missed it at all when Tony's movements with the ring became more aggressive, forceful, as the funeral procession towards the caskets began, as everyone said their good-byes to the beautiful and this-is-so-tragic-poor-young-Anthony, Mr. and Mrs. Stark. And you were there to stop Tony from making a scene, when the fourteenth person to place their hands on his shoulders, in a consoling gesture, also then tried to hug him. And you were definitely, definitely there when Obadiah gave Tony an out from the rest of the funeral reception, alcohol in his system, and a new car to boot ("Maria and Howard wanted... Well. It was, is, your graduation gift. I thought today would be a good day to do this. You've been through a lot, Tony.")

(Never mind the fact that Tony was a little more than freaked out by cars, given the nature of his parents' accident. He wasn't entirely OK with driving any time soon - another thing stolen from what should have been a normal rite of passage, what little normalcy he could have as a Stark.)

You were there, a year later, when post-seven drinks-Tony was doing stupid things with alcohol and repressed feelings on a weekend, many days after the Starks' death anniversary. When after a lack of emotion, or even any minimal indication that Tony was even aware of the date to come, which then had passed, Tony finally broke down, and you were there holding him. You were both on the ground, Tony curled up and shaking shoulders, and you had kicked away, with as much strength, frustration, and reach of your leg, the bottles on the floor and goddamn Tony, it's more than okay to fucking feel, don't let Obie convince you otherwise.

You're there, still, the next day and you go with Tony to pick up some flowers, a succulent or two (Maria's favorite), and drive him down to the graveyard. You're careful to keep a distance once you two get there.

(A few years later, and Tony is naturally still grieving, but he's starting to figure out some form of closure - as much as possible. He's impatient at how much time it's taking for him to not hopelessly want and think Maria's going to be there suddenly, the times when he gets home from a long day.)

Things get hard to define as post and pre when it's a few decades more, because things change, people get busy. There are days and weeks that go by sometimes where you don't talk or spend as much time as regularly, but that is okay. And then suddenly it's months, months, months, where you don't see each other at all.

Then, you're there, and you don't really know Tony as post-survivor of whatever hell he experienced in Afghanistan; all you have is his rushed, dehydrated, raspy whispering in the corridor, explaining the thing in his chest.

You're holding tightly to Tony's hand as you help him up from the wheelchair. You sigh, not really surprised, at his offhand comment about the medics on standby. More than that, you're so grateful that he's even making snarky remarks, and you're still a little pissed because the hoops you had to jump through to get here. But then you're standing there, as Tony makes his way to Pepper, and you don't care about that. You care about this, and you grip hard to the moment.

(You also grip hard to the moment Tony announces to the world he's Iron Man. Because you realize Tony means this. He actually means to be more.

You just don't quite know what that means.

Until.)

You're there, at what will top any of Tony's worst parties, the music is pulsing, and someone shoves into you as they rush by, and their drink drenches your arm. You sigh because you thought you were past this by now. You're patting yourself dry with a napkin when Pepper appears at your side, and actually tells you - she admits to you this: "I don't know what to do." And there's something so screwy with that. Not that Pepper has to always know what to do, but there is just something so screwy about the whole situation.

Not much after, you know how downhill it is about to get as you go down the steps to the shop. You can practically feel JARVIS's - how that is possible, you don't know - anxiety as you press in your code and eye the suit right in your view.

(You leave Tony on the ground this time.)

Another year and the anger is so there, at how Tony casually tells you he might have - very nearly - died in the New York events. Casually. As he offers you a few coupons for this shawarma place, because "hey it's not my fault you were too busy to come for a meet and greet." (The shawarma place? Has pretty good reviews, you find out later on Yelp.)

And then, here, today, you get why, maybe, Tony had been so casual.

The aftermath says it all, screams it almost. Obviously, you think, as you look through the photographs of the A.I.M. events. The scraps of Tony's suits scattered in the burnt debris - and that's not even exactly right, not exactly how to describe how it really looks in the photos. Metal carnage might be closer, if you're being poetic, but still not the right words of what's really here, of what really happened, of what was happening. Of, really, what is still happening with Tony, in certain respects.

You're a little more involved in the cleanup proceedings this time around. You have insisted on it, motivated particularly by what Killian did to Tony, to almost Pepper, the country, and just. Fuck. So maybe there's a conflict of interest, considering your involvement and contributions to the whole ordeal, but damned if you're going to let someone else handle this. This is... God, you just can't get over - how it gnaws at you - how you would come into the house, have casual conversations with Pepper, and you never knew the exact number of the suits just...breathing (hyperventilating) down in the shop.

You roll away from the makeshift scrapbook and the half written report on your laptop screen. You lean back in your chair, push the back of your head against the cushion, and press the heel of your hands against your eyes, rubbing. You eventually stop, relax your muscles, your hands, your fingers against the soft leather padding of the arms of the chair. You just sit there, breathing, and you hear the fan of your laptop whir on.

...

...

...

And then your phone goes off.

as clarification: i hadn't intended obie's giving the car to tony as any orchestration of ebil on his part at all.

and also i have a problem with making maria appear in fics in an awkward fashion. i'm unapologetic about this, for the most part.

theere's also a bonus!pepper portion of said fic because i really adore rhodey and pepper dynamics, but that's being scrapped out. ALSO NOT ENTIRELY SURE WHAT THE PROJECT HERE WAS. sooo. yeah. i just. i adore rhodey. also i'm frustrated because this reads off as if rhodey has to support tony 100% and he absolutely doesn't have to, nor should. but eh. whatev.

AHOYS TO THE NEXT. spring cleaning is loads of fun, guys. (not.)