I Was Joking

Grandpa Stark doo doo doodoo doodoo

December 16, 1978

Howard scribbled mercilessly on his desk's surface, mumbling nonsense in the crack of dawn. The man who was claimed to be a genius had yet another breakthrough in his work, and had to write it all down before it escaped him. So once the ink ran dry in the twentieth pen he had used in the course of his latest all-nighter, he had done the only natural thing and gone into a near frenzy looking for a new one.

"Where's the pen, where's the pen, c'mon, I thought I had another one here, where's the motherf*cking PEN?!", the man shouted, not aware of how his noise was affecting the other members of the Stark household.

For example, a young eight-year-old boy with light brown hair that split down the middle, and big, round, light brown eyes that revealed every emotion, nearly every thought going through the child's head. The model image of an innocence that was deteriorating far too soon for Howard's liking; but the man had no clue what to do about it. Wasn't like he had any example or instruction to go by; kids don't come with operation manuals, and Howard, while being a man of many things, a mind reader was not one of them.

"...F-father?", the boy asked quietly, cracking open the door to his father's personal lab. "WHAT?!", he shouted out of frustration, flinging some papers towards the door when turning towards it. Upon realizing who it was, the man sighed before taking a seat. "Shouldn't you be in bed?" "Couldn't sleep.", Anthony answered quietly. The fear of being startled was still evident in his eyes. "And I wasn't being much help.", the elder thought aloud with a roll of his eyes. The boy meekly shrugged his shoulders. "Oh come now, don't be so modest."

"Were you working on something?", the little boy asked, still standing at the door, since he wasn't allowed in. "Not anymore.", Howard responded, annoyed with himself. "...Were you looking for something?" The man shrugged, seeing no harm in answering at this point. "Something to write with, but it won't matter now. It's all flown out the window, like those fat birds I see you sneaking bread to.", Howard responded, turning to face the boy. "I'm sorry. For getting in the way.", Anthony responded, looking at the floor. Howard wanted to say something, but his throat got caught at the sight of looking at a younger version of himself. 'Congradu-f*cking-lations. You're the one thing you swore not to be.', he thought to himself.

"...You should go back to bed. Got a big day of school tomorrow; need to remember all the important stuff, like the quadratic formula and Millard Killwhore.", he described, starting to pick up the papers he threw. "Fillmore?", Anthony asked with a raised eyebrow. A glint of amusement could be seen in his big brown eyes. "Him too. Now, off to bed with you.", the father remarked, waving him away. Anthony ran down the hallway, returning with a thick red crayon. He turned back towards the entrance, holding it out to the man. "What use could I possibly have—", he asked with a raised eyebrow, only to cut himself off when his son pressed the item into his palm and pushed the hand towards his chest. "Shut up and take it." Howard gave a soundless chuckle, looking at his boy with a glint of pride, that he hoped was visible enough for him. "Well, if you insist. Now go."

And so, in the span of that morning, the founder of Stark Industries used that red crayon to break the secret to time travel and the afternoon to construct a portal. This was his surefire way of finding Steve Rodgers, he thought before stepping through.

Present Day

"Howard.", he heard his son say, low and slowly, like it was vile in his mouth. What did he do to make his son hate him so?

The man looked around at his surroundings in awe. It certainly wasn't the time period he was hoping for, but he'd certainly take it. It looked like a technological wonderland. But eventually, his eyes landed on Anthony, as he exited that metallic suit around him. The man looked far too much like himself; the tough jawline, the graying hair, the hardened and shielding eyes.