incitethemuse What do you dread? rp for im_ironman
The talk with his dad had Dylan nearly shaking with frustration and anger. He'd never been much of an angry kid, but then he always was one who had a slow boil. It took a long time to push his buttons, but when they got pushed hard enough he came out swinging. His mother and his father both seemed to be quicker tempered so he wasn't sure why he was different. Trying to focus on the final exam was difficult when all he could think of was Tony on another bender. Maybe he was taking it too personally, but Tony's casual self-destruction didn't feel all that self focused.
Instead it was the people who loved him who had to watch him do this. Granted, Dylan hadn't had to deal with it as long as Pepper, Rhodey and Happy, but he was already fed up. Maybe it was the reminder of time lost. Eighteen years with his father. The fact Tony had nearly died more than once over the summer, and now this December slump back into drinking to excess. Part of him wanted to say fuck it. It's not his business. Everyone who knew Tony knew he had shit he had to deal with. He had been through a lot, and he had always partied hard. He'd been partying hard when he was younger than Dylan was now, but it offended Dylan to see him using his grandparents deaths twenty years later as an excuse to act like that same petulant addict teenager.
He finished the final and hoped he didn't bomb it. Once out of the class, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and walked to his car. The drive to the local market didn't take long, and it calmed him a little to pick out fresh produce to cook with. Then as he was paying he thought about how long it had probably been since his father ate properly and his anger surged again. The drive out to Long Island wasn't made fast. Even if he had kept the sports car he wouldn't have driven fast because he was dreading this confrontation. He was the child, but with Tony he felt like the parent. Because when it came down to it, December was all about the Stark bloodline, and now Tony couldn't dwell on it ending with him. Yet he didn't seem to be acting any differently. The scare he had given Dylan and his words about how he hadn't wanted to put Dylan through the same thing he went through all felt like lip service. Because it was just a matter of time before the drinking or the Iron Man shit or fuck the combination of both was going to do just that. Tony was trying to test his mortality, and Dylan felt disgusted watching him from the sidelines.
The Prius was parked in the driveway at the Stark home, and he grabbed the grocery bags. When Happy greeted him, Dylan shook him off from taking the bags. "I got it. Do me a favor, take the night off. Don't come back unless I personally call you back." The look on Happy's face told Dylan he was overstepping, but Dylan pressed forward. He was the Stark heir right? Wasn't it time he got a bit of that sense of entitlement too. "Please. I need some time with my dad, and he's about to get real defensive and pissed, and he'll just try and use you or Pepper to fix what I'm about to do, and I'd rather he just deal with me tonight."
"You'll call if you need anything?"
"Yes. I promise. Can you let Pepper know what is up and tell her to call Rhodey if she needs more info." He just couldn't deal with talking to them all about the tantrum he was about to throw to hopefully wake his father up. Because deep down, even if he called it an intervention of sorts, and it was, it was also a teenage tantrum. Well, Tony had missed his toddler years so he could consider this a gift of Christmas pasts. He passed his grandparents portrait once he was in the house and paused in front of it to look at them for a moment. Frozen in time just like his father. Maybe Tony was showing the years, but he was still emotionally stunted at the age he lost Howard and Maria.
It wasn't until he heard his father walk in that he looked away from the portrait and over at his dad. "Hey. I figure pasta and salad would be cool, yeah?" He studied Tony's expression for a long moment before walking past him toward the kitchen. "You look like hell, Dad. Is your stylist on vacation?"