incitethemuse: Dreams.
There's a child crying down the hall. It's what wakes him up, and even if he lays in bed for a moment trying to figure out the source of it - when was there a child in the house? - he slips out of bed anyway and makes his way there in the dark. His mind still feels clouded with sleep, and he tries to ignore just how sore some of his muscles are, but the crying doesn't stop so that's the only thing he focuses on at the moment. His heart feels as if it skips a beat when he can't find the right door that leads to the baby crying, but just as he's on the verge of worrying, he finally finds the door that opens.
The child isn't crying by then, though. And he's not alone - standing by the window there's a woman, cradling the baby close, and for a moment Tony can only stand at the threshold in silence. It can't be, he wants to say outloud but doesn't. Part of him is afraid that, if he says anything, this whole moment will disappear, and he can't have that happen. Because, even if has never seen that baby in more than just photographs and home videos, he knows who it is. And he is painfully well aware of who the woman is. It makes him both sigh in relief, and suck in a breath when his heart feels as if it clenches painfully.
"Hi, Mom," he finally ventures, walking slowly inside.
Maria Stark turns around, and that smile on her face that Tony has missed so much for the past eighteen years makes him pause. If she notices, though, she doesn't show it as she looks down at the baby in her arms. "My grandson is beautiful, sweetheart."
Tony looks down at his son, and he only stares at him for a moment. Very deep down, some part of him is aware that he's dreaming, that his son is not an infant but a teenager instead, but that fact is easily forgotten as he watches him. The way Dylan smiles up at Maria, the way he suddenly seems so calm and happy, makes it hard for him to really focus because he's suddenly transfixed in how perfect his child is. "He has your smile," Tony suddenly says, and turns back to her. "He reminds me so much of you."
Maria smiles once more, and after a glance back at her grandson, she places him carefully in Tony's arms before kissing their cheeks. Tony looks down at Dylan, watching as his son slowly falls back asleep, and just as he's about to turn to say something to Maria he suddenly realizes she's no longer there. He looks around the room, he walks as quickly as he dares to the hallway with the baby in his arms, but she's not there anymore. She's gone. She's...
...with a small sort of gasp, Tony opens his eyes and just stays very still as his eyes focus on the ceiling above him. The light the television is emitting is enough to let him see the ceiling fan slowly moving above him, but Tony isn't really staring at that. He's trying to shake away that feeling. That grief he always feels grasping at him when he dreams of his parents, and the way that his heart feels a little heavier when he remembers his mother's smile. Her voice. It has almost been eighteen years, and suddenly even for just a minute she had felt so real. She had sounded so real, too; it had been like she had never been gone.
Eighteen years later, and Tony still has a hard time believing they are just gone.
The sound of a sigh makes him snap out of his thoughts, and sitting up slightly he suddenly realizes that Dylan is fast asleep on the couch next to the one he had been laying on. After a day of sailing they had started to watch a movie, but apparently Tony hadn't been the only one that had gotten tired after everything they had done throughout the day.
Picking up one of the throw blankets in the room, he moves over to his son and carefully covers him with it. The light of the television is enough to let him watch him sleep, and for a moment he's just as transfixed as he had been watching him in his dream. Dylan is not the baby he had been dreaming of, because his son is all grown up, but it still doesn't change the fact that he's still in awe at how perfect his son is. At the fact that he's a father, because he still can't believe that he has a son, and that his son is someone as great as how Dylan is. He can't quite explain how the impossible had happened, in how Tony Stark is now a father, but he doesn't care for explanations. All he knows is that, while one day it may have been impossible to imagine himself as a father, now he can't imagine himself not being one.
He can't imagine himself not being Dylan's father.
Brushing his son's hair gently away from his face, he feels a small smile tug at his lips. He may not be father of the year material, and maybe he's not really the type to be a father at all. But that doesn't change the fact that he still is one, and that despite the insanity that is Tony Stark's life he really wouldn't have things be any different.
The child isn't crying by then, though. And he's not alone - standing by the window there's a woman, cradling the baby close, and for a moment Tony can only stand at the threshold in silence. It can't be, he wants to say outloud but doesn't. Part of him is afraid that, if he says anything, this whole moment will disappear, and he can't have that happen. Because, even if has never seen that baby in more than just photographs and home videos, he knows who it is. And he is painfully well aware of who the woman is. It makes him both sigh in relief, and suck in a breath when his heart feels as if it clenches painfully.
"Hi, Mom," he finally ventures, walking slowly inside.
Maria Stark turns around, and that smile on her face that Tony has missed so much for the past eighteen years makes him pause. If she notices, though, she doesn't show it as she looks down at the baby in her arms. "My grandson is beautiful, sweetheart."
Tony looks down at his son, and he only stares at him for a moment. Very deep down, some part of him is aware that he's dreaming, that his son is not an infant but a teenager instead, but that fact is easily forgotten as he watches him. The way Dylan smiles up at Maria, the way he suddenly seems so calm and happy, makes it hard for him to really focus because he's suddenly transfixed in how perfect his child is. "He has your smile," Tony suddenly says, and turns back to her. "He reminds me so much of you."
Maria smiles once more, and after a glance back at her grandson, she places him carefully in Tony's arms before kissing their cheeks. Tony looks down at Dylan, watching as his son slowly falls back asleep, and just as he's about to turn to say something to Maria he suddenly realizes she's no longer there. He looks around the room, he walks as quickly as he dares to the hallway with the baby in his arms, but she's not there anymore. She's gone. She's...
...with a small sort of gasp, Tony opens his eyes and just stays very still as his eyes focus on the ceiling above him. The light the television is emitting is enough to let him see the ceiling fan slowly moving above him, but Tony isn't really staring at that. He's trying to shake away that feeling. That grief he always feels grasping at him when he dreams of his parents, and the way that his heart feels a little heavier when he remembers his mother's smile. Her voice. It has almost been eighteen years, and suddenly even for just a minute she had felt so real. She had sounded so real, too; it had been like she had never been gone.
Eighteen years later, and Tony still has a hard time believing they are just gone.
The sound of a sigh makes him snap out of his thoughts, and sitting up slightly he suddenly realizes that Dylan is fast asleep on the couch next to the one he had been laying on. After a day of sailing they had started to watch a movie, but apparently Tony hadn't been the only one that had gotten tired after everything they had done throughout the day.
Picking up one of the throw blankets in the room, he moves over to his son and carefully covers him with it. The light of the television is enough to let him watch him sleep, and for a moment he's just as transfixed as he had been watching him in his dream. Dylan is not the baby he had been dreaming of, because his son is all grown up, but it still doesn't change the fact that he's still in awe at how perfect his son is. At the fact that he's a father, because he still can't believe that he has a son, and that his son is someone as great as how Dylan is. He can't quite explain how the impossible had happened, in how Tony Stark is now a father, but he doesn't care for explanations. All he knows is that, while one day it may have been impossible to imagine himself as a father, now he can't imagine himself not being one.
He can't imagine himself not being Dylan's father.
Brushing his son's hair gently away from his face, he feels a small smile tug at his lips. He may not be father of the year material, and maybe he's not really the type to be a father at all. But that doesn't change the fact that he still is one, and that despite the insanity that is Tony Stark's life he really wouldn't have things be any different.