he doesn’t know why he decided to stay so much longer this time. he doesn’t even if actually get up. he’s tired. he’s too old for this. and his bones only agree as they ache in protest from his position on the grass, legs folded up as he twists blades of green through his fingers with a sigh. he reaches over and picks up the bottle of lagavulin he’d bought especially for this occasion, tossing it between both hands before tipping a portion into the lid and leaning over to pour it over howard’s grave. ❛ well, dad… if you’re doing it… ❜ he murmurs before sighing and bringing the bottle up to his lips, tipping back and closing his eyes as the whiskey burns down his throat, settling in his chest and enveloping his pain and misery like old friends.
she’ll watch on for now, knowing that the second she calls his name, either something quite horrible will happen or something wholly beautiful will. shield should have known he’d be here. and yet, they allow her to come here every year on mother’s day and her birthday. the only explanation maria can come up with is that it’s simply become routine for all of them, the organization hardly thinking tony stark would show up there; even though he’s done it every year. it’s just that maria usually comes the day after. until now. but her mind is made up; to hell with shield. ❛ — anthony? ❜ she’ll call his name out cautiously, slowly approaching the man from behind after he’s taken a swig from the bottle in hand. the defining moment comes now, and she’s afraid. afraid he’ll reject her, deny her presence and leave.
the second he hears her voice, he stiffens, and it’s then that maria almost wishes she’d said nothing. what if he turns...
he sniffs softly, clearing his throat and thumbing over the lip of the bottle, shaking his head gently before looking...