I have so much planned, and I have no idea when I will be finished, but there's just a warning to you that after this update, updates will potentially put on hold under the end of May. I have my AS level exams in under 2 months and I need to do as best as I can for these in order not to have to repeat them next May.

But anyway, an update and my my my y'all gonna hate me

I really hated how this chapter came out so I'm sorry for his shit that it has turned out

Just as things were going smooth the author decides to be a bitch xx

'Tony, Tony, Tony. M'boy, Howard is not going to be pleased."

Tony's head pulses harshly against his temples, an ache that Tony has grown accustom to over the last year or so of being involved in the party scene, fairly new to the party scene but very knowledgeable about the alcohol. His body aches, a dull type of ache that settles into his bones, down the muscle of his legs, a swirling nausea at the top of his stomach and sharp pain in his neck from where his body is angled in an awkward position on the hard, fine wooden floors of Stark House, Malibu, California.

Stark House is so much prettier than Stark Mansion, in so many different ways. It's newly furnished, with modern decor that decorates each room and surrounded by windows, and bright, natural light that gives the entire house a beautiful, handsome, gentle vibe. The house itself is positioned on a cliffside, overlooking the beautiful private white sand beach below and the dark blue waves of ocean that stretches out for miles and miles, a perfect view with a perfect sunset every evening and sunrise every morning.

Tony had taken it upon himself to snatch the keys to Stark House the evening that he had left for MIT, with his suitcases in the trunk of one of Howard's magnificent cars that he's sure not to miss and AC/DC blasting at a high volume as he drove the distance from Rhode Island to Massachusetts. He had swung the keys around his index finger, a smirk playing on his lips as he leaned against the doorway into his best friend who sighed and groaned and grumbled about spending their Spring Break in Malibu.

But Rhodey was always easily manipulated when it comes to Tony Stark, and there it began their calendar countdown to Spring Break. Tony hadn't forgotten, checking his calendar as often as he could remember to do so until the weekend came and soon enough, Tony was throwing a suitcase or two into the trunk of the same car and set out for Malibu with his best friend in the
passenger seat and Metallica blasting, desperate to enjoy the weekend.

And that's all that Tony can remember.

His memory does not stretch further than pulling up to Stark House in Malibu, California with Rhodey in the passenger seat and cases of beer and spirits in the back seat of the luxurious sports car. They had planned to spend the weekend confined to the Malibu house and Tony suspects that he played by that rule, just not in the way that Rhodey approved because as much as Tony promised the weekend to just be the two of them, he has a big mouth and word gets around rather fast.

"-Don't touch him. Remove the rest, I don't care what happens to them or where they end up, just get them off of the property."The shadow that had been casted over Tony shifts away, a beam of sunlight lining through the massive, stretched out windows and onto Tony, casting the light upon his rugged, hungover features.

He's half awake, half tempted to roll over and press his face into the cold, fine polished wooden floor to ease at his pulsing headache, but there's a hand grabbing at the scruff of his shirt, pulling him across the wooden floor and tugging him harshly up into a seated position with his back against a sofa. Tony's head lolls forward but there's a hand in his hair, stretching his neck back as cold, harsh, sharp water is thrown into his face.

Tony gasps at the contact, eyes flung open in his shock and mouth agape with his sharp intake of air. There's water droplets caught to his eye lashes, locks of his hair stuck to his forehead and he can feel the cold water drip off of his chin and onto the bare flesh of his chest, bloodshot red eyes flickering up to look at his assaulter and feeling his stomach drop.

"What did we agree, hmm? You would stop these silly, immature games in exchange for my absence of your life."

"This doesn't look like an absence of my life, Mr. Stane."Tony hisses, his throat raw and his mouth dry with the vivid taste of cigarette ash and vodka left on his tongue. The room won't stop spinning, his mind running to catch up on current events and every time that he blinks he sees double.

"And this looks like another one of your silly, immature games, m'boy."There's a sly twist of his lips, as if this moment is something that he has been anticipating since the moment he left him stranded in that hotel room, their promise something to be broken because Tony never changes his habits and Stane knows all of his weaknesses.

Whatever happened on this weekend, it has left Stark House in an awful state, the house far away from its immaculate portrayal and now left behind as if struck by a hurricane. There are bottles of all sorts of alcohol littering the wooden floors, broken glass on marble counter tops, rips in expensive leather couches and what smells like Tony's usual scent of weed, alcohol and sex.

To Tony's surprise, only two of those scents are coming off of him, still fully clothes in jeans and a shirt that is way too tight and way too flimsy, the soft blue light of his Arc Reactor shining through the flimsy material and brightening the dark material of Obies suit. His jeans are stained and so is his shirt, with liquids and dirt but he doesn't care.

"-to pick up your pieces."Tony only hears the tail-end of what Obie is ranting about, monologuing the hardships of being Howard Starks right hand man which also means being limbered as being Tony Starks personal babysitter."I do this all for you, m'boy."

"You do it for the heavy pay check, don't try and act like you have my best interests at heart."Because if Obie has his way, and Tony knows this to a tee, he would have thrown Tony under the bus a long time ago, grasped at his opportunity to have his surname beside the word Industries instead of Stark and sit back and watch the money roll in.

But he doesn't have his way, and despite the fact that he is Howard Starks right hand man, he lays no trust with him. Tony may be well kept out of his fathers business and the company that he is soon to inherit, but he knows that Howard doesn't trust easily and Jarvis is always too keen to warn Tony to keep one eye on Obie at all times, even from a young age.

And a long time ago, Tony use to laugh at Jarvis' scepticism or his fathers paranoia or how his mom use to always linger in the door frame any time that Obie was caught alone in a room with Tony. Now, Tony wishes that he took all of those hints, the red flags, to heart because he wouldn't have ended up in so many of the situations that he has in the past, and he wouldn't be here right now.

"Tony, of course I have your best interests at heart."And Tony would almost believe him if it wasn't for the access information of his background, with the way that his head is titled almost sympathetically or his brow creases in concern, an action that Tony use to take to heart.

"You settled this agreement, Tony, not I. You came to me and begged me to give you this chance, to redeem yourself, as a new young man, but yet again you have proved to me that you are nothing but an immature boy who is just begging to be put into his place."Obie's voice is a sneer in his face, lip curled up, his large meaty hand curled around Tony's hair and jostling his head back and forth painfully."But Tony, I'm too late to save you this time."

There's a phone screen being flaunted into his face, a headline caption of some tabloid that Tony knows of but doesn't know enough about. His vision is blurry, the pixelated words on the stupid IPhone blurring together, paragraphs smudging and lines adjoining but Tony can read the headline clear enough that it makes his stomach drop and the photographs along side the article to cause his throat to close over.

Tony's face has had a habit of being plastered over tabloids and 60 second gossip intervals between television programmes, but Obie and the impressive Public Relation team that he set up for Tony's best interest at heart was always quick with smudging NSFW photographs and distorting stories. Tony loved the attention, he still loves the attention, but-

"This wasn't my fault."He whispers, lips barely moving, tongue heavy and numb. His eyes keep flickering to the photographs attached to the tabloid article, with Tony draped over a lap of a man that he doesn't recognise, his hands curled in a blondes hair, his back pressed against a chest of one Tiberius Stone with an outward look of pure bliss on his face but his eye so far away and empty.

They're insider photographs and Tony knows exactly who took them.

"It is never your fault."It's mocking, of course, because Tony has lead his life believing and being told that everything is his fault, in manners that don't show him off in a good light and make him out as the spoilt little brat that the media loves to portray him as."And I'll fix this, for a price, however."

"Then don't fix it."Tony is quick because Obie's prices are never cheap, nor do they do good for Tony.

"The problem is, you see, is that I have to fix this. For the sake of the company, of course, but you need me to fix this."Obie flips the godawful phone around in his hands, almost teasing him.

And Tony hates it when other people are right, because deep down, Tony knows that he needs this fixed. It's not only flashing S.I into a bad light, but it's putting his place at MIT on the line, a place that Tony so desperately needs to keep.

"What do you want."His voice is a murmur, barely a whisper and lips still touching, but the growing smirk that rises on Obie's lips is clear enough that he heard Tony. They brush over Tony's payment in exchange for Obie's clean up and then he's leaving, rubbing his thumb I've Tony's high cheekbones and brushing off the knees of his suit before leaving Tony in the rubble that is his own mess.

Eyes closed, head bowed, Tony remains on the floor for a little while longer, the pulsing headache at his temples rising and the churning of his stomach continuing in a way that has Tony deep breathing to stop himself from throwing up because he is not weak. He takes his time but eventually Tony is pulling himself up to sit on the ripped sofa, and swaying to stand up onto his own shaky legs.

The room spins for a moment or two, but eventually settles enough to allow Tony to make the distance from the living area to the stairs, eyes scanning over empty bottles, plastic Cubs, confetti, articles of clothing and garage that litters the floors, furniture, draped over chairs and banisters. Jarvis would go nuts if he saw the state of Stark House and his mother would have been dragged by the ear.

"I can't remember, was this supposed to be a weekend of just the two of us or did I spontaneously agree to having 300 of your dearest, closet friends tagging along?"

"300 is a little downgrading, 400 at the least."

"You look like shit."Rhodey deadpans in true James Rhodes fashion and it's familiar, comforting  and it doesn't make Tony feel as if he's hit rock bottom, yet.

"I feel like shit."Tony sits down on the stair with a heavy sigh, giving up on his attempt to make it up to the bedrooms that are sure to be as ruined as the rest of the house. Rhodey stands in all his immaculately, a black plastic bag in his hand and Tony can't even help the silly sort of smile that appears on his face."Cute, James Rhodes to the rescue with his black plastic bag. Call me in a week when you finally finish cleaning the place, Honeybear."

"This isn't for the garbage, it's for you after I kill you and I need to dispose of your body."

"I know that I'm below the height of the average male but I think you'd need at least 3 plastic bags to wrap my body in."He isn't that small, a little below the average height but he makes up for lack of height with his overlarge ego. Tony groans, leaning his face into his hands."If you're going to kill me, do it quick, it feels like someone is dancing on my brain and I think I'm going to puke which is not something that Starks do."

"Starks don't cry, Starks don't puke, is there anything that Starks actually do?"

"Complain."He groans, wanting so desperately to be handed painkillers ( which he will profoundly refuse to take but he offer is great ) and a blanket and left to die for the next 24 hours.

"That sounds about right."There's a clunk, the plastic bag dropped to the floor as Rhodey emerges closer to the stairs and nudges at Tony not unkindly."You might be small but you're fucking heavy and I'm not carrying you up a billion flights of stairs. Get up."

Like predicted, the second floor of Stark House is just as bad as the Ground Floor. Rhodey grimaces at the state while Tony keeps his eyes trained on where his feet at taking him, careful not to step on stray pieces of broken glass or trip over his own two feet. Tony's bedroom is locked, just the way that he hoped it would be, with a key hidden at the top of the doorframe.

The room is as untouched at the last time that Tony spent the night here, in Stark House, a year or two before he was accepted into MIT and he and Peggy spent week of summer just chilling. It had been a good week, Tony loved the beach and he loved the ocean and Peggy use to tell the most amazing of stories that kept his mind away from he haunting family that he left back in New York.

"I suggest taking a shower."

"I suggest you shutting up. Please."Tony tacts on at the last minute when he realises that Rhodey is his only hope of getting him from the doorframe to the glorious bed."Plus, I'm really not up for you seeing my dick. Not today."

"Oh I've seen it, I expected better."He dumps Tony onto the bed, watching how the younger male seems to just stretch out on the silk sheets, his body glistened by the streaming sunlight that shines through the large windows that stretch from wall to wall, leading to view of the magnificent beach and ocean below.

"Lay down with me."Tony pats the space beside him on the bed, making a show of shuffling just a smidge to give Rhodey more room even though the two of them know that Tony will flop a leg over Rhodeys body and sleep like that.

"Only for 10 minutes because I need to head out."He's already complying, toeing off his shoes and getting onto the bed.

"To see Momma Rhodes, I know, I know. Just until I fall asleep."Tony has a leg thrown over Rhodey, shuffling into his personal space until his cheek rests upon Rhodey shoulder and the mans arm is draped around him, pulling him towards his body in that protective sort of way that Tony loves to be held.

I decided to end this chapter here because I have dramatic shit planned for the next couple of chapters that will fucking ruin all of us

Please tell me your opinion on this chapter!

What do you think I have planned?

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Peace✌🏼