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When Tony was born, his mother didn’t get to hold him. It wasn’t until hours later, after he’d been washed and dressed and photographed that she was allowed to see the child she’d wished for her entire life. He was beautiful. When Tony was four and he built his first circuit board, all he wanted to do was show his father. To make him proud. He ran into Howard’s office beaming; he left with tears burning his cheeks. He found his mother who wiped his tears and cleaned the tiny cuts on his hands, picking out the shards of her son’s first creation. Even broken, it was beautiful.
Tony was ten when he realized he didn’t just like girls. He would never tell Howard, he knew how his father felt about
those
people; Howard was always more open with his opinions after his fourth glass of whiskey. You’d think Tony first crush would be on Captain America, with the way Howard made him decorate his room, but Tony’s always liked his best friend Bucky a bit more. With his dark hair and piercing eyes, Bucky was
beautiful.
Tony was 15 and he was at MIT. He was 15 and for the first time he had a friend. James Rhodes, his roommate and the first person who listened to his ideas and appreciated them. When Howard sent him a letter with a check attached, Tony thought it was over,
nobody
would turn down that much money. But Rhodey did, he burned the little piece of paper and mailed back the ashes. Friendship was
beautiful.
Tony was 17 and his parents were dead. His dad was dead. His
mom
was dead. Howard was drunk and he’d lost control of the car, they died on impact. At least his mom didn’t suffer he told himself. He had no family left; so he drank. He drank and he used and he fucked. The high was
beautiful.
Tony was 21 and he had a company to run. He let Obie make all his deals, preferring to invent himself. For years he created weapons to protect America, continuing on his father’s legacy. He’d finish one project and start on the next right away. But his best work was for himself. He brought life into the world with nothing but his brain and his hands. Dummy, his first and then Butterfingers and U, and finally JARVIS. He loved them more than anyone or anything. They were
beautiful.
Tony was 38 when he woke up in a cave with a car battery attached to his chest. From that moment on, his life would never be the same again. The months he spent in that cave was time he’d never forget. Meeting Yinsen, losing Yinsen, finding out that the weapons he’d created to protect young Americans were being used against them,
becoming Iron Man
. When he really thought about it, being kidnapped was a blessing in disguise; if he kept going the way he was, he’d be dead by 40, but now he had a second chance. Tony loved being Iron Man, he loved the rush of air around him when he flew, he loved saving people, and he loved the suit. The suit was
beautiful.
Tony was 43 and he’d saved the world. He flew a nuke into a wormhole expecting to die.
Ready
to die. But he didn’t. He lived and everything was
fine
so why didn’t it feel like it? Anxiety seemed to control his every decision, driving him further and further away from the team. And then Ultron happened, what was supposed to
protect
the Earth turned against it and it was all because of the Witch. If she hadn’t played up Tony’s worst fears then he wouldn’t have rushed and it would’ve been fine. Ultron was supposed to be
beautiful.
Tony was 45 and the team was gone. Bucky Barnes was back from the dead and Steve would stop at nothing to protect him. Little things like 117 countries or Tony’s feelings didn’t matter. All that mattered to him was Bucky. Standing there in Siberia, watching the video, Tony confirmed what he’d known all along, there never really was a team. But still it hurt. He’d grown to trust Steve, even seeing him as a friend, but none of that mattered now. Tony had a lot of time to think while he was stuck on the freezing ground in a broken suit. He thought about Steve and then he thought about
Bucky.
He knew it wasn’t the silent man’s fault that his parents were dead, that it was Hydra controlling him and he
was
sorry for blasting off his arm. Maybe it was the blood loss, but after all those years, Tony still thought Bucky was
beautiful
.
Tony was 46 and he was rebuilding. There wasn’t anything in existence that would save his chest now, so Tony did what he did best, he saved himself. With the help of Doctor Cho, he reworked the Extremis and rebuilt his ribcage. It didn’t matter that the team was gone. He didn’t need any of them, he had his own team, no, his own
family.
The ones who’d been by his side from the beginning, Rhodey, Pepper, Happy, and the ones who’d joined him along the way, Harley and Peter. Together they rebuilt the Avengers into a real team, recruiting Hope Van Dyne, Stephen Strange, and T’Challa to join them. He didn’t know what Steve had hoped for with his letter. Tony had read it and shred it, he didn’t need false apologies. He always felt like he had to chase his old team so he could catch up, the feeling of being free was
beautiful.
Tony was 48 when he met James Barnes. For real this time. After Shuri got rid of his triggers and he was pardoned, Tony offered to let him stay at the compound. When things had settled down after Siberia, he’d dug deeper into the Winter Soldier program and was horrified by what he found. He knew what it was like to be held against his will, and he couldn’t imagine going through it for over 70 years. So he borrowed Rogers’ tactic and wrote a letter. He told James that he’d forgiven him months ago, that he was sorry for destroying his arm, and that if he wanted it, there was a room with his name on it. He didn’t expect much to come of it, but to his surprise James agreed, and within a week the compound had a new resident. After the initial awkwardness they’d become fast friends, spending hours down in Tony’s personal lab working on a new arm that would blow the old one right out of the water. Six months on and you couldn’t really say they were
just friends
anymore. They had their first kiss up on the rooftop on a night where neither of them could sleep. When Rhodey pulled James aside the next day to tell him that he’d kill him if he broke Tony’s heart, James only smiled. He’d killed hundreds, maybe even thousands, but he could never break something so
beautiful.
Tony was 50 and his life was great. He had a gorgeous husband and two little girls, Maria and Rebecca who they’d adopted a couple of months after getting married. Being a father was the best thing that had ever happened to him, and he’d destroy anyone who tried to hurt his family. Luckily, with James’ serum and Tony’s extremis they were physically around 30, the perfect age to keep up with their daughters. Tony and Steve had managed to form a tentative friendship, they knew that it’d never be perfect but they’d try for James’ sake. Peter and Harley were at MIT together, sending daily updates and spending their breaks at the tower with the rest of the extended Stark-Barnes-Parker-Keener family. (Though if you asked Tony, he’d tell you that it wouldn’t be Parker-Keener for too long; Peter was going to ask Harley to marry him over their winter break.) All in all, life was pretty
beautiful.
Tony was 95 and he was dying. The Extremis was wearing off, and he knew his time was coming to an end. But he didn’t mind. He’d lived a long, full life and would die surrounded by the people he loved. James was dying too, the Hydra serum was similar to the original but not strong enough to keep him going for as long as Steve. When they’d retired from the Avengers, they did it together. It turned out that they were destined one last adventure though, because when they died they did that together too. Tony never thought he’d live past 30. He certainly never believed that he’d find love or settle down. But he did. And when he was buried next to the love of his life, right under his name, his headstone read Wherever He Went, Whatever He Did, He Made Life
Beautiful.