From the CA:CW scene

"Who's the homeless person on the couch?"

"Be nice dear, he's been studying abroad," Maria answered softly, her eyes closed as she tried to keep her focus on the music her fingers played as they danced across the piano keys. Any interaction between Tony and his father brought the risk of going nuclear, but she always held out the hope that a little music and a gentle tone would keep the mood at least civil if nothing else.

"Really," Howard scoffed, pulling a rumpled Santa hat off of Tony's face before he could stand, "which broad?"

"This one," you snapped in reply from your chair across the room, barely giving him more than a glance his way. Howard had never given you a second of his attention, so you felt no need to return a sentiment that didn't exist.

"Hmm," Howard hummed, unimpressed, "do me a favor, try not to burn the house down before Monday."

"Okay, so it's Monday. (Y/N), you hear that?" Tony smiled at you. It was a passing smile that lasted a mere second or two, and it didn't seem genuine, as it faded back to his trademark look of petulance as soon as his focus was back to his father. "That is good to know, I will plan my toga party accordingly. Where are you going?"

Maria had always been nice to you, despite the seemingly endless state of disgust that her husband seemed to hold for you. Sure, Tony had been with his share...really, most people's share of botched relationships and one-nighters, but you somehow seemed to hold on to his attentions, and it didn't escape her notice that this wasn't the first time she had met you. In fact, you had been around the family so much that she was offended for you that Howard didn't give you the respect to recognize you. "Your father's taking us to the Bahamas for a little get away."

"We might have to make a quick stop-"

"At the Pentagon, right?" Tony interrupted, leaning in closer to his mother. "Don't worry, you're going to love the holiday menu at the commissary."

"You know, they say sarcasm is a metric for potential. If that's true, you'll be a great man someday. I'll get the bags." At that, Tony now looked like he had completely shut down, leaning against the wall with his arms tightly crossed and his jaw tight with indignation. No one could shut him down like that man, and you, for one, were sick of it.

"Excuse me," you offered, standing to follow the senior Stark from the room, but Tony's hand quickly jutted out to stop you with a grip that you quickly shook away.

"Hey, don't worry about it. I'm used to it."

"That doesn't make it okay, Tony. Just stay here."

"What are you going to say?"

"I'm sure I'll think of something before I get there," you smiled, a tiny skip in your step as you left his side. Once you had crossed through the doorway and out of his sight, your confidence began to waver, however, but you held your ground until Howard reappeared. His stature wasn't nearly as intimidating when he didn't realize that he was being watched, but he still carried the arrogance that grated at your nerves and left you wanting nothing more than to slap the smug grin off of his face. "Hey, Moustache."

"I'm sorry?"

"Why do you have to be such a jerk to Tony all the time? Did you ever stop to think that maybe a good portion of his attitude towards you is your own fault for being such a shitty parent?"

"Who in the hell do you think you are?" he answered, taking a long step closer, but impressed that you didn't waver. "You have a lot of nerve talking to me like that in my own home."

"And you have a lot of nerve treating Tony like he's some annoyance that you've been burdened with, and not like a son who deserves your love and attention. You really have no idea how much he wants just one second from his dad that isn't berating him, or judging him, or telling him how much of a failure he is in comparison to you. If you weren't such a self-absorbed asshole, maybe you'd see it before it was too late. You'll be on your deathbed one day, looking back at your life, and it'll be too late because you'll have driven him away once and for all, and you'll have no one to blame but yourself. You would see that if you could look past your own shit for just a second."

Howard was actually stunned into silence, his mouth agape at your words, and you didn't know what to do next. He stood firm, suitcases in hand, statuesque with his chest barely moving with each breath. He had no idea who you were, but he was stuck somewhere between uncontrolled rage and respecting the hell out of you for your tenacity and convictions. If Tony were to pick someone to be with that he would bring home to meet, he would have to say that you were the first that he would honestly agree with. You were the first one to care enough to call him out. "Are you done?" he asked softly, clearing his throat almost nervously.

"Y-yes...I think...I think so."

"Okay, so I'll...I'll just be going then," he answered, moving to push past, but stopping abruptly right next to you. He never looked up, or motioned to connect with you in any way, his gaze fixed to the floor in front of him. "I'm sorry that you see me that way...(Y/N), was it?"

"Yes."

"Does he see me that way, too?'

"Yes."

"I suppose I'll have to work on that when we get back. I'll talk to him," Howard sighed, nodding to himself in resolve.

Neither of you were giving any attention to anything other than the hushed moment between you, not even the fact that Tony had watched the entire exchange with wide eyes and pride in himself for making you the one he had chosen to bring home; you were the first, and if he did this right, you would be the only one. He had never seen anyone stand up to Howard like you had, and for someone who had just met the man, it took balls. When his father took a step to leave, Tony rushed to back away and take his stand again at the door where Howard had left him.

"He does miss you when you're not here," Maria sighed, standing up from the piano to take her purse in hand, turning to her husband with a reserved smile at the sight of him. "Say something," she urged quietly of her son, "if you don't, you'll regret it."

Tony stood with a huff, crossing his arms even tighter, as if he were trying to protect himself from the inevitable refusal from his father, giving you one last look over the man's shoulder to give himself enough strength to form a coherent sentence. It pissed him off to no end how Howard affected him, but after what he had heard spoken between the two of you, he held a tiny shred of hope that things might yet change.

"I love you, Dad," Tony smiled simply, "and I know you did the best you could."