To understand means to perceive the intended meaning of.

     Children learn to understand as they grow. The brain will begin to develop and information will be retained - this tastes nice, I can't eat that, I want to get over there quickly, but how? From the lessons pushed toward them by their parents to their own self-exploits stemmed from natural curiosity, they will learn. They will grow to understand. Understanding comes after the initial curiosity, after the finding of something new. When you know nothing, you want to fill in all the tiny cracks and holes with as much information as possible. You want to fill full until you become curious about something new. Tony Stark was an unusual child. He understood many subjects, and he was curious to understand more. At the young age of four, he built his first circuit board. It was an astonishing sight, truly becoming of the offspring of a well-known genius. Tony had just been curious. If he closed this circuit, what would happen? What if he opened it? His intellect surpassed the children in his age group by light years, but as he explained to the butler at the age of five, he just wanted 'to understand'. He was just 'curious'.

     What he couldn't understand was his dad.

     No matter how hard he tried or how many times he asked the butler or his mother (when she was lucid enough) the answer was the same: I don't really understand your dad either, Tony. He's always been his own person, he'll come around. So, Tony waited. And waited. He expected his dad to 'come around'. To show him he knew his son was even alive. To be an actual father toward him. Jarvis had no problem doing that; they played games when the man wasn't busy, and he showed the butler his latest project (it was an engine). His mother gave him the occasional pat or kind word, but he knew something was wrong with her and he never took it at face value. Jarvis was more of a parent than his actual parents had the capability to be.

     He made it his goal to understand. To sate his curiosity once and for all. He would conduct experiments and tests on his dad. He would figure it out and get an answer and finally...understand. After all, if he was going to be smarter than his dad he'd have to know the man first. How was he supposed to be the best Stark he could be if he didn't understand the man of the house? This is his goal; his dream. He wants to be on equal footing with his dad until he pushes just over the edge and revolutionizes the world. 

     He had been working on the engine when he glanced at his watch. It was time to experiment. He gathered the blueprints and trotted down the multiple staircases of the manor. He sidestepped Jarvis as the man adjusted a caddy of cleaning supplies in his hand. The man - his only friend - hesitated in his wiping to watch him jog by. Tony could feel the butler's eyes on his back the whole way down the hall. Jarvis hated the experiments, but it was the only way he could gather data. If no one would give him answers he'd find a way to get them himself. And he had, it just didn't make the one person he respected happy.

     Tony shook his head and squared his shoulders. With the blueprints in hand, he took a deep breath and listened at the door. The muffled voice of his dad filtered through the thick wood and Tony gulped. He couldn't deduce whether or not the man was having a heated discussion or speaking leisurely, but it was time to gather data so he steeled his nerves and knocked. He tensed as the voice cut off jerkily, alarms ringing in his head as he tried to backtrack. He could understand tomorrow. What's one more day after years?

     Before he could begin to plan his escape, his dad grunted, allowing his access. If he turned and ran now, his dad would come looking for him. He didn't want to interrupt the man any more than he was now, but if he stayed... Tony swung the door open and stepped into the sterile lab. Unfinished projects and tools were littered on the two workstations beside his dad. He used to think of the lab as a mad scientist's lair, complete with trapdoors and a roiling pit of acid. His dad told him to stop thinking nonsense. Tony's sneakers squeaked on the shiny floors and he wondered if Jarvis had mopped recently. The spacious room seemed to close in on him as he stared up at his dad.

     Howard Stark was not a small man in any sense of the word. Tony was at a disadvantage due to his own height, but he knew his dad was tall and strong. His hands were the size of mallets and his white coat was hiding plenty of muscles from labwork. He pushed his goggles onto his forehead and his thick peppered hair was slicked back with sweat. Tony's eye flitted around as he shifted from foot to foot. The lines on his dad's face deepened as he barked, "What, boy?"

     Tony held back his flinch as his eyes snapped to the older. His tongue had turned to ash and he couldn't form words. His dad's eyes had a glint that made his stomach turn uncomfortably. Tony's eyes landed on the small glass of amber liquid beside the diagram spread on the light table. He leaned forward in curiosity. What was on the blue paper? What was that liquid with the awfully sweet smell? He snapped back when he dropped his own blueprints on the shiny floor.

     Tony found his voice when his dad raised an eyebrow. "I-I'm making an engine and I wanted you to look the sketch over." His dad thinned his lips, dark eyes radiating his disapproval. "Sir," Tony added with a squeak.

     His dad looked him over and Tony tried his hardest not to fidget under the gaze of those dark eyes. When he held his larger hand out, Tony quickly dropped the plans into his waiting palm. Tony couldn't help but notice how his dad's hand seemed to dwarf his own. Tony frowned at his limb. He couldn't wait to grow.

     He was brought back to reality when he heard a grunt and something clinking. Tony tilted his head as his dad knocked back the amber liquid in the glass, ice cubes skidding around as he set the empty glass down harshly. It was a safe liquid, he thought. But food and drinks aren't allowed in the lab, right? As he was about to voice his question, his dad held a hand up.

     "What is this?" he whispered. Tony furrowed his brow. Didn't he just say it was a sketch of an engine? "This is not work fit for a Stark!" Tony yelped when the glass his dad had just finished was sent flying over his head. It shattered against the door, falling onto the ground in a million pieces. Tony whipped his head back to his dad as he struggled to stand. Tony turned on his heel but he was rooted by the shouts. "Stay right where you are!" he bellowed.

     Tony held his hands palm up to show surrender, though he couldn't understand why he was surrendering. He wasn't fighting anyone. You only surrender in a fight. He dropped his hands in confusion, only to raise them again when his dad shook him by the shoulders roughly. "Do you get it? Or are you washed up after making that simple circuit board?" His dad laughed curtly and he flinched. That board took weeks to finish... "These sketches look like a kindergarten art class stomped all over the paper for fun! You worthless piece of..." Tony flinched at the words his dad shouted at him. He tried to cover his ears, but they were held tightly at his sides. They were growing numb as spittle landed on his cheeks, the discomfort making his eyes water as he sniffled.

     His dad paused. "Are you...Are you crying?" he spat. Tony's eyes widened as he was shoved back. He cried out as his hands fell into the glass shards. He was too frightened to examine the wounds he knew were forming as his dad went into hysterics. "Crying! You're crying! I have a damn pansy for a son!" Tony jumping, shifted the shards as his dad kneeled down in front of him. He grabbed his son's chin hard enough to bruise, and his breath smelled sickly sweet as he said, "Stark men are made of iron. I don't want to see a single tear after today or I'll do something for you to really cry over. Do. You. Understand?" Tony took a shaky breath as he nods. "Repeat it!"

     "'Stark men are made of iron'," he mumbled.

     "Again!" Tony furrowed his brow until the hand on his chin tightened. "Again!"

     "'Stark men are made of iron, sir," he parroted loudly.

     "Good." His dad stumbled back to his stool. "Don't you ever forget that. You will live by it until you die. You will say it anytime I ask, whether it be in passing or before bed, and I'll have that infernal butler ingrain it into you as well. Even in hell, you will live by these words. I don't want to ever find you crying like some girl in my house again. Understood?" he growled. Tony nodded quickly and the blueprints were thrown into his face. "Disappointment," he grunted. "Get out, boy."

     Tony didn't need to be told twice. He scrambled to his feet with the sketch and sprinted from the lab. He half-sobbed, stopping before his tears could trace his swollen cheeks. He didn't want to disappoint anyone. He was trying to make him proud. That's what the engine was for, but all he ended up getting was glass in his hands and words that shook his very core. He couldn't believe anyone could sound so disgusted with another. He didn't know what half of those words meant, and his usual curiosity would've piqued by now but it only brought cool dread. If the unknown words managed to make his stomach turn along with the known swears, how would he feel after getting the definitions?

     He flinched when he collided with a hard chest, whining softly when his hands grazed over his pant leg. A bottle of cleaning ammonia rolled by his feet and concerned brown eyes tried to get into his line of sight. Tony flinched away when Jarvis reached out, sucking in a harsh breath as his hands began to shake.

     "What happened, young sir?" Tony hesitantly raised his hands, ignoring the tears rolling down his cheeks. Jarvis gasped softly, dropping the rest of the supplies as he gingerly looked over the bleeding cuts. He tensed when Jarvis opened his mouth, but the butler only said, "Let's get these cleaned up. I've just finished a batch of cookies. Perhaps we can sit and talk with a warm snack."

     Tony nodded numbly and allowed Jarvis to lead him away. He tried to wipe his tears, but Jarvis gently shook his head. He glared at the shards in his hands as his tears continued their descent. Stark men are made of iron. He was already breaking the rule...though, technically his dad said he couldn't see him cry. So, in theory, he could cry whenever the man wasn't around. Finding a loophole in his dad's words brought more peace to his racing heart than he thought it would. He could feel his breathing slow and the rising panic withered away as they enter the grand kitchen.

     Jarvis hoisted him onto the granite countertop of the island. Tony held his hands up as the butler brought over a serving tray and tweezers. "Now, try to keep still, young sir. I'll do my best to make it as painless as possible."

     Tony nodded and set his jaw as the first shard gave way to Jarvi's steady hands. He did his best not to wince and not a single tear was shed. When his mom walked in with red eyes and a tall glass he waited for her to say something. Anything. "Oh my, what happened, Tony?" or "What can I do to help?". Deep in his subconscious, he knew she'd give him a simple frown, a bat of her lashes, and walk away to do whatever she does in her room. It was still grounding when she did exactly that as Jarvis continued to pick out the shards. He hissed at the burning on his palms, turning wide eyes up to the butler as Jarvis smiled apologetically.

     "Apologies," he murmured. "I need to clean these so they do not become infected." Jarvis turned his smaller hand in the kitchen lights. "Oh dear," Tony blinked as Jarvis reverently poked the cut in the center of his left palm, "I believe this might require stitches."

     "No," Tony breathed as the trembling started anew. "J, seriously?" he whined.

     "Now, now. Don't fret. I'm sure the doctors will make it quick. If you're feeling better, we can leave now. Let me just wrap this up." Tony huffed at the pun and held out his right palm. As Jarvis wrapped the limb in tight bandages, he couldn't help but glance back. Toward the lab. Toward his father. The blueprints laid forgotten on the hallway ground and a sliver of hurt struck his heart. He was barely saddened by his injuries, Jarvis would make sure he would heal, but he could feel tears forming at the thought of the toxic reaction a piece of paper had ignited. When Jarvis dropped his hand Tony hobbled over to the discarded blueprints. He had to make at least one person proud. "Young sir..."

     "Please, just look at them," his whispered as he pushed the sketch into the older man's hands.

     "I regret to say I don't think like an engineer, young sir." Tony's face fell and he hung his head. "But, I will take a look and give you my honest opinion. How's that?" Tony grinned. He rocked on the balls of his feet in anticipation. He drummed his bandaged hand on his thigh until Jarvis's face broke into a pleased smile. "This is amazing, young sir."

     Tony felt heat rise to his cheeks. Jarvis rolled up the prints and ruffled Tony's hair. "Ah, it was nothing, J. Just had to get an idea and go with it, I guess."

     "And went with it you did. Now," Jarvis clapped, "let's get that hand stitched up."

[--]---][---[--]

     He still didn't understand Howard. It was the one thing that nagged at him. The one thing that managed to get under his skin. He would pick at it and pick at it until it bled with answers. Until he understood. He tried more experiments, more tests. He tried to get the man to notice him and pay attention. To please him. Any sort of positive reinforcement that he was doing something right for once. He would get answers. His curiosity would be satisfied until he found something to focus on. He would understand.

     He would understand even if it killed him.