Every family has demons, but none of them seem to scream as loudly as they do in the Stark family.
Tony Stark is known for many things; a father being one of them. Before he was Iron Man, before he was the CEO of Stark Industries, before he was...
There is literally no one around who can drag him out of the mini bathroom he's planted himself in. I purse my lips at Pepper who is holding Dad's Iron Man helmet under her arm. She looks just as irritable and impatient as I do. I groan as he keeps gasping and mumbling. Pepper sighs and leans her hand against the doorway.
"Get up," she shakes her head, squinting at him.
"Oh, God," Dad moans, "I can't go through with it. I'm telling you," he leans up and his metal hands grab onto the edge of the toilet bowl.
"We don't have time for this, Dad! We have to go!" I snap.
"Oh, God, you don't wanna see that," Dad puts down the toilet's lid and flushes it.
"Ew," I scrunch up my face.
He groans as he stands up. He stumbles over to the doorway and stares at us as we blink at him, unimpressed with his dramatics.
He's breathing heavily as he asks, "Where am I? Do I look weird?"
I snort, "Don't you always?"
He ignores me.
Pepper goes on, "Ya, you look like you do everyday," which is, again, 'weird', "you look like you have a hangover."
I sigh and roll my eyes as I follow his stumbling body towards the back of the plane. He squints and tries to see himself in the reflection of one of the big windows. He doesn't look too disappointed with what he sees. I can't say the same thing for Pepper and myself. Oh. Wow. Talk about bitter. Yikes. Dad looks around the cargo hold with hazy eyes and a red face. He's mumbling different things, but I really can't hear a word he's saying and I'm not sure Pepper can either.
"I literally just almost died there," he breathes out, "Give me some toast! Give me some crackers! Ginger ale! Anything," he bumps my arm quickly.
"Oh right," I nod, scowling as he plops down on the bench, "because I just happen to have some toast and ginger ale in my backpocket."
"Advil," he does the little kid grabby hands in our direction, "Pep, give me some advil."
"I don't have advil. I've got motrin," she tells him as she helps him get situated on the bench.
"Motrin! I'm telling you there is something seriously wrong with,"
"Yes! There's something seriously wrong with you!" Pepper interrupts, yelling and leaning down to his eye level.
Dad continues, "With giving a grown man motrin."
"What's wrong with motrin?!" I ask in a high voice, "It's a brand name!"
"I am not on my cycle, Lisa!" Dad shouts at me.
We both let out a heavy breath, grumbling about each other. Pepper groans and rubs her forehead, irritatedly. The warning alarm goes off and it blares loudly in our ears. The pilot's voice begins to announce that we're getting close to the mission's drop zone.
Dad yells lowly as we pull him to his shaky feet, "Abort mission!"
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