Avenger's One-shots and Preferences

Mending Bridges-Tony Stark

This one-shot is partially inspired by the comic book version of Iron man where Tony was an alcoholic, and is also partially inspired by the sitcom Mom. It's another Tony father/daughter one-shot (I know I've given grief about writing these before, but this one I really wanted to do). Anyway, the reader in this one, being Tony's daughter, is a newly sober drunk and sees her dad Tony at an AA meeting one day, and they catch up and Tony tries to make amends for the harm he did the reader with his own addiction. We'll also have a cameo guest star from the Netflix Defenders series.

Plenty of mentions of addiction/alcoholism in this one and a bit of language. And if you ever feel you have a drinking or drug problem and want to get help, just remember you're not alone, and there's a support system out there that with people that will help you in anyway they can.

"Okay, sweetie," you say to your seven year old son as you drive him to his father's house, "you got all your things from school? Homework?" "Yes mom," (y/s/n) replies, backpack in hand, "Alrighty. See you Monday then." As soon as your boy gets out of the car you breathe in a sigh of relief. It was one hell of a hectic day, from trying to get your kid to school while fighting traffic to nearly being late for work, it just felt like everything was going wrong. The one good thing though was that your ex finally paid the child support he was two weeks late on. Yeah today was one of those days. "I need a drink," you mutter to yourself.

------------Time Skip------------------

"Hi," you wave to the little group of people you stood in front of, "My name is (y/n), and I'm an alcoholic." "Hi, (y/n)," they all respond. When you had said you needed a drink, what you actually meant was you needed a meeting, an AA meeting to be exact. "Well, today started off on the wrong foot," you admit to the support group, "though it has been feeling a lot like that lately. But it's still worth it, cause as of today, I am 90 days sober." The group claps for your accomplishment, "Thank you, thank you," you continue, "but, seriously, I'm grateful that I was able to get my life back together, and really I don't think I could've done it without this group to help me through it all. Really, I think the reason I wanted to get sober in the first place wasn't just because I was sick of the puking or the hangovers or how I was always one step closer to having my son get taken away from me. I think the real reason is I didn't want to wake up one day and realize I ended up like my dad. From as far as I could remember the man was constantly drunk off his ass, bringing home strange women, and never really having it in him to give a damn about me, his only child. I mean sure, there were other people who looked out for me when I was a kid, but...it's not quite the same as the person who's actually supposed to look out for you and teach you about life and stuff like that. Anyway, I didn't want to end up like that. Thanks for listening."

You take your seat as the support group claps. While listening to the next testimony you feel someone tap you on the shoulder, "Uh, I know it's none of my business, but aren't you a little old to be pinning your problems on your unresolved daddy issues?" You recognized that voice. It's been years, but it was a voice you never forgot nonetheless. Turning around you come face to face with the man you haven't seen in that same amount of time; he was wearing a cap and a jacket to keep people from recognizing him, but you knew him all too well, "dad?" "Hey, pumpkin?" Tony smiles, "Did you miss me?"

------------Time Skip-------------------

"Why are you here, dad?" you question with suspicion as you and Tony settle down at the diner and order your food and non-alcoholic beverages, "What were you doing at the meeting?" "Same reason as you," Tony answers, "Had to change meetings since someone at my previous meeting tipped off the paparazzi of my whereabouts, but the reasons are still the same."

"So after twenty some odd years, give or take, you decide to hop on the sober wagon?" "Well less than that," Tony answers, "As of today, I'm actually four years sober." Now that bit of news took you by surprise...but that didn't mean you were ready to let the past go, "And now that makes everything you ever did to me okay?" "Okay," Tony said, having a feeling you would go there, "I know I was nowhere near up and coming to receive the parent of the year award-" "Pfft, that's an understatement." "But, come on, it wasn't all that bad, I think you turned out alright."