Work Text:
December 2006
Rolling your hips back into his, your lazy smile widened as you felt his hands tighten on your hips. His chest was flush against your back, the scent of sweat and expensive cologne teasing at your senses as his body moved with yours. You could feel his stubble scratch lightly against your jaw as you let your head fall back against his shoulder, raising your arms to reach back and run your fingers through his hair.
“You should be careful, Mr. Stark.” you murmured in his ear, loud enough to be heard over the music. “People might start thinking you’re taking advantage of your staff.”
His voice was warm caramel as he snickered, sending a shiver down your spine as one hand dipped lower to smooth over the bare skin of your leg. It paused at the hem of your dress, turning to skim his fingertips over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. This wasn’t how you’d expected the Stark Industries Christmas Party to pan out, but you definitely weren’t complaining.
“Come home with me?”
“Too far,” you said, turning in his arms. His touch went immediately to your waist, and you caught his smile, the hungry look in his eyes, before you brought your lips to his. Tony returned the kiss eagerly, his teeth grazing your bottom lip for a second before his tongue slid over yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers curling in his hair. “Bathroom?”
Tony laughed, his forehead bumping against yours. “Fuck, I love you.”
You grinned back at him, a thrill curling through your belly as his hand slipped up to your ribs, his thumb tracing the underside of your breast. “Tell me that when you’re sober.”
* * *
February 2009
Tony leaned into your side, hooking his chin on your shoulder. He was warm, the scent of alcohol teasing at your senses as you pulled the car into traffic. His voice was soft and worn with exhaustion, barely more than a whisper in your ear over the quiet music from the car’s radio. “I love you.”
You nodded patiently, holding back a good-humored eyeroll. “Tell me that when you’re sober, Tony.”
He groaned, the sound turning to a chuckle as he slumped back against his seat. Still, you felt his hand on your knee, his thumb brushing over it softly. You glanced at him as you reached a red light; his eyes were closed, a small smile on his face. “One day you’re going to say it back.”
That night in the club had ended prematurely; you’d run into a coworker on the way to the bathroom who’d had so much to drink that she’d been struggling to stay conscious and standing. So, Tony had called his driver to take the two of you back to your place, and you’d instead spent the night watching Friends reruns to stay awake and making sure she didn’t throw up in her sleep.
Tony had taken the abrupt change in plans in stride, waiting on the icy sidewalk with you for Happy to bring the car around, your drunken friend half-asleep on your shoulder and the arm you had around her waist the only thing keeping her upright. He’d kissed your cheek goodnight as an irritable Happy had loaded your friend into the car, his lips warm on your frozen skin before you’d climbed in beside her and he’d returned to the bar.
Since then, you’d become something like friends.
He would visit you in the lab, asking for your thoughts when he was stuck on an idea, or casually suggesting a tweak to your latest piece of programming. Inexplicably, he always seemed to manage to visit exactly when you were about to take a break, and he could convince you to draw out a five-minute coffee break to a half hour with just a smile. The idea of continuing what you’d started that night had never been touched on, but nights like this, where you were pulled out of bed when he called, drunk off his ass, for a ride home, he’d say those same three words, and you’d always reply the same way.
“One day you’re going to say it without a bottle of whiskey in your system.” you retorted, amusement belaying your tone.
“Tequila.”
“Jesus, Tony. Were you partying with a sorority or something?”
He shook his head, leaning forward to turn up the radio. “Please. It was the Maxim Valentine’s Party.”
“Romantic,” you said drily. “You and that many ex-girlfriends in one room? That must have been dramatic.”
“Girlfriends?” he scoffed, shaking his head. He smiled at you, watching you out of the corner of his eye. “You know you’re the only one for me. Long term, anyway.”
You snorted. “The hell are you doing out tonight, anyway? Aren’t you supposed to be flying out to Afghanistan in the morning?”
His hand squeezed your knee. You hadn’t bothered redressing when he’d called; you’d just thrown a coat over your pajamas. You could feel the warmth of his hand through the thin cotton of your pants. “Have you been checking up on me, Y/N?”
You rolled your eyes with a smile. “You do remember that I’ve been running the final diagnostics on the Jericho for the last two weeks, right?”
“And here I thought you were trying to get an invite,” he joked. “Private jet, champagne…”
“—Desert heat. A war.” you finished for him. “I think I’ll miss this one. Sorry, Tony.”
He sighed as though he was disappointed. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”
“In a bathroom in a club in Upper Manhattan.” you replied teasingly, smiling as he chuckled quietly. You curled your fingers around his, taking his hand gently and moving it back to his own lap. His hand tightened on yours for a second before he let you pull away. “Go to sleep, Tony. I’ll wake you when we get there.”
* * *
September 2012
You yawned as you groped blindly for your phone, the obnoxious buzz of its vibrations against your bedside table enough to stir you out of sleep. Wincing as the light of its screen blinded you, you swiped to answer, holding it to your ear. “Hello?”
“Hey, sweetheart.”
You rolled onto your stomach, propping yourself up on your elbows. “Tony? Is everything okay?”
“Hmm? Yeah.” he sounded distracted; somehow both exhausted and wired all at once. Still, you could make out the slight slur in his voice; he’d been drinking. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Tony, you’re calling me at—” you moved the phone so you could read the screen, blinking a few times before making out the time and bringing it back to your ear. “—Four-thirty in the morning. What’s going on?”
“Nothing, I just…” he sighed.“I can’t sleep.”
“So, you decided I shouldn’t either?” you joked through another yawn. When he didn’t reply, you softened your tone. “I’m joking, Tony. What can I do?”
“I don’t… I can’t turn my brain off, I just—”
“Tony, it’s okay…” you said soothingly, listening to his breathing until you heard it return to a steadier rhythm. This wasn’t the first time he’d called since the attack on New York, and you’d begun to recognize the rhythm despite what you were sure was his efforts to keep you at arm’s length. He was living in Malibu full-time now, but once every few weeks or so you’d get a call like this. He’d be too tired to be awake, too wired to sleep, and you’d become like a nightlight to him, helping him relax long enough to let sleep take him. “What do you need me to do?”
“… Talk to me? Please?” his voice was small, needy. “About anything… anything other than me.”
A small, rueful smile touched your lips, and you wet your lips with the tip of your tongue. You reached up to switch on the lamp on your bedside table, frowning as the sudden light burned your eyes. You picked up the book beside it after a moment’s consideration. “You ever read Jules Verne?”
“I… yeah. Yeah, when I was a kid, I think.” Tony said, his tone almost confused at the choice in topic. “Why?”
“I found a first edition the other day. Journey to the Center of the Earth. It’s just as good as I remember.”
“You think so?”
“Absolutely.” you fingered the pages thoughtfully, smoothing your hand over the cover. This early in the morning, it was hard to think of a topic you could talk to him about that wouldn’t require an answer. As silly as it felt, this was as good an option as any other you could possibly come up with. “I could… I could read it to you?”
There was a pause, and you just made out the clink of glass against glass as Tony undoubtedly poured himself another drink. “I love you, Y/N.”
You breathed a smile, ignoring the bookmark stuck about halfway through the book and instead turned to the first chapter. “Tell me that when you’re sober.”
You cleared your throat, making yourself comfortable on your side and tucking your phone against your ear.
“Looking back to all that has occurred to me since that eventful day, I am scarcely able to believe in the reality of my adventures…”
* * *
May 2015
The steady beep of a heart monitor was what slowly stirred you awake, and you frowned as you opened your eyes. Sterile white walls and the cold metal of medical equipment greeted you, and you swallowed thickly as you tried to clear your head. A flash of color caught your attention, and you turned your head to the side, smiling softly up at the oversized bouquet of orchids on the table beside you.
You could feel the back of your left hand itch, and you glanced down to see an IV needle sticking into your skin. The urge to scratch at it – and your confusion over how you’d ended up in a hospital bed in the first place – was almost immediately forgotten when you noticed the man beside you.
Tony was sitting in a chair by the side of the bed, his arms folded on top of the blankets and his cheek resting on his forearm. You felt yourself warm at the sight of him; you couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen him so peaceful.
“Tony?” Reaching out tentatively, you touched your fingers to his arm, snatching your arm back again as he jerked awake.
He blinked, a crease in his brow as he woke. His expression softened into a smile however as he met your eye, and he straightened slowly. “Hey.”
“Hi.”
“You’re awake.”
“So, are you.”
He chuckled sheepishly, clearing the sleep out of his voice. “Yeah… Sorry. It’s been a long few days.”
“Few days?” you repeated, confused. “What… why am I in here?”
He bit his lip, leaning back in his seat. His body language shifted, and he folded an arm over his chest, rubbing his other hand through his hair. “What do you remember?”
Your brow furrowed as you dredged up the memories. “I… we were at the party. In the tower. You guys were taking turns trying to… to lift Thor’s hammer. There was…” you turned your eyes back to Tony as the pieces fell into place. “Tony, what was that thing?”
“Ultron.” he said with a sigh. “Not the version we intended, but…”
“And it… it attacked us?” you asked, answering your own question as your memory solidified. “It attacked us. With the Iron Legion… I tried to stop one when it attacked Maria—”
“And got thrown through a window for your trouble.” Tony finished for you. He reached up, brushing hair away from your forehead with his thumb. His hand ghosted down the side of your face to your shoulder, and you reached up with your right hand to catch hold of it. His fingers squeezed yours for a moment before he pulled away. “Couple of broken bones, some blood loss. A pretty nasty cut by your ear. But you’ll be okay.”
“And the others?”
“Everyone’s fine. There’s some fallout from… everything… but we’ll be okay.” he sighed. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.”
“For what?” you asked incredulously. “For the attack? Tony, I worked on that code, too. There was nothing in there that—”
“Y/N…”
“Tony.” you said firmly. You reached out carefully, sliding your hand over his where it was clutching at the sheets beside you. His fingers relaxed, and he let you curl yours around his palm. “If it’s your fault, then it’s my fault too.”
Tony’s lips twitched in a brief, rueful smile.
“How long have you been sitting there?” you asked softly.
He shrugged a shoulder, glancing towards the clock on the wall. “A while, I guess… I don’t know.”
You swallowed, your heart swelling in your chest. He was avoiding your eye – and from the state of his clothes, you would guess he’d been there for hours at least.
“Tony?”
“Yeah?”
The words came easily after so many years. “I love you.”
Surprise lit in his eyes, an almost disbelieving smile breaking over his features despite himself. He wet his lips, and he bit his lip as he finally found a response. “Tell me that when you’re sober, sweetheart.”
You scoffed a laugh despite the butterflies in your belly at his expression. “I’m hardly drunk, Tony.”
“No,” he said, standing. He leaned over to press his lips to your forehead, the touch lingering for a few second before he straightened. “But you do have enough painkillers in your system to qualify as a party. Hungry?”
You raised a brow with a smile at the sudden change in topic. “Starved.”
“I’ll get the doctor in here to check you out, while I get lunch.” he said softly. “I’ve missed you, Y/N.”
“Since your move to Malibu, or since the party?”
He squeezed your hand. “Always.”