Work Text:
The Stark Tower is engulfed by the silence of night, its thick cloak dropped over New York and chasing away the last late workers from the streets. You gaze out of the window of your room, admiring the deep inky shade of the welkin and the sparkling stars sprinkled over it like glitter. The distant dong of the wall clock in the hallway advises you that it’s high time you go to bed. Yet sleep doesn’t come as easily as usual. ‘I should not have eaten that cupcake with extra chocolate.’ the little treat was a last minute splurge you grabbed while returning to the Tower after running late on an errand. It was definitely worth it.
With a sigh your run a hand through your hair and massage the back of your neck. Idly standing by has never been your favourite occupation, so the lack of anything productive to do irritates the living light out of you. Deciding a late midnight walk will distract and probably help you fall asleep, you exit the bedroom and stride randomly down the corridors.
Unknowingly, lost in haphazard thoughts and worries from the day, you find yourself in front of Tony’s lab. The inside is engulfed by a comfortable silence and the lamps are dimmed out, which adds a hazy feeling to the atmosphere. The fact that it’s currently unoccupied leaves a rather disappointed tingle in you. Truth be told, you wanted to spend some time with the dark-haired obnoxious male as it has been a while since you two had some quality time together – his work over the suits is just as demanding as your constant jogging around the city, carrying documents that need signing or editing. While you mentally debate whether it is wiser to go back to bed, unknowingly your feet carry you to the opposite end of the room and you push open a hidden door, which leads to a downward staircase. To the workshop. It is general knowledge that a better part of Tony’s time gets spend over various pieces of metal, so it’ll be no wonder if you find him down there. Your feet silently pad downstairs, the cool air easing your nerves.
The buzzing of machines and the clang of metal signalize that someone is filling their time with in a more productive manner rather than aimlessly striding around. Entering the code in the padlock, the door opens with a low whooshing sound and allows you to take a glimpse at the inner core of the workshop. As expected, the inside consist mostly of raw cement walls, varying in size and type cables and wires, and parts that will eventually be making up one of the suits. Your eyes travel around the room, taking into notice the newly added machines, before finally spotting your workaholic of a boyfriend. He is bend over his newest plaything, his whole attention engrossed in the working process. Enjoying the view of his broad back, nicely outlined by the grey top and his firm rear, you decide to admire him for a little while.
It never ceases to amaze you how his hands move with confident motions, as if he has absolutely no doubt in what he is doing or how it must be done; his self-confidence awakens rather polar feeling in your heart, as while you do fancy it while he works, it can also drive you insane when he talks as if the knowledge of the whole world has been entrusted into his brain. Another funny thing you spot is that every once in a while he either mumbles something under his breath or calls at J.A.R.V.I.S., with which he seems to be commenting his current occupation. The AI’s remarks, as snide and sarcastic as its creator’s make you chuckle, giving away your presence.
“Oh, Y/N! What’s wrong?” taking off his protective goggles, he casts a worried once-over look at you, obviously searching for any indication of illness.
“It’s all fine. I just stopped by to see what you’ve been up to.” gesturing at what he has been working on, you finally melt the distance that separates you.
“I’ve been banging my head against the concrete for a few days now… almost literally. It is a dead end.” he seems utterly disappointed with the current state of things.
The need to embrace and encourage him to not give up takes over, yet you simply suffice with placing a hand on his shoulder and squeezing lightly, knowing that Tony isn’t keen on physical interactions outside the bedroom.
“You will figure it out, champ. You always do.” a small smile finds its way on your face.
Unfortunately instead of easing his state a little bit, the words only serve to further agitate him as his face falls into a scold.
“How come you’re so sure? What if I fail?” anger quickly overpowers despair and now you can sense the dangerous vibes coming from the dark-eyes male.
Meeting his stare with confidence, you pat him reassuringly.
“You are just smart like that. Even if this fails, you will take it apart, rebuild it and eventually better it.”
Still not convinced, either do to his overworked mind not being able to grasp the concept of your words or simply his all-too-critical self cannot fathom what you’re saying, Stark snarls like an irritated pet and moves away from you. Hurt flashes in your eyes but he doesn’t even glance at you. Instead he bends over his work once again, tacitly dismissing you. Clicking your tongue and crossing your hands over your chest, you try to bite back a remark. But his ignorance urges you to snap.
“You know, being an ass isn’t complimenting your personality even the slightest bit.”
He either ignores you or simply misses to hear the words. Either way, that only serves to further enrage you.
“I just want to help you, Anthony. Is it that intolerable for you to simply accept? Or is it bellow your level to allow someone who doesn’t have your IQ capacity, anywhere near your work?” the words slip past your lips unwanted and by the time you assimilate their meaning, it’s too late to take them back.
The reply? A tired, defeated sigh. The desire to slap him swirls in the back of your mind, yet you know violence is not the answer.
From the very beginning you were aware he didn’t enjoy close proximity with other leaving creatures apart from the ones confined into the bedroom. You aren’t an exception, unfortunately. ‘Even his girlfriend cannot near him in his time of need. How ridiculous is that?’ fuming mentally, you tap your foot.
Obviously continuing to ignore you, Tony keeps on working on his newest, still unsuccessful, device.
“For the love of God, Anthony! Can’t you see that I care enough to try and pull you out of your shell?!” unknowingly your voice rises to a shout.
But once again you receive no reply. Groaning and throwing your hands up in the air in defeat, you start pacing around the workshop, desperate to get him to open up. And it’s painfully obvious that right now he needs someone near him, even if he won’t admit it. ‘Damn you, you prideful bastard!’
Eventually, seeing no way around it, you flop down on a free chair and stare at his back intensely. Time passes torturously slow yet you won’t back down, won’t leave him. Too many people have walked in and out of Tony’s life like he is a mere train station; whenever he needed them, they’d be nowhere in sight, not willing to actually pay attention to his inner battles. That left him emotionally scarred, doubtful. You simply want to be the one to make a difference. That’s why instead of leaving him to sulk in sorrow and most probably drown himself in whiskey, you jump on your feed and stride his way. With a single motion you grab him by the shoulder and forcefully turn him around. His confused eyes clash with your fiery ones.
“Listen here, Einstein. I will have none of this shit. Shove your pride somewhere else and let me in! Do I want that much?”
His raised eyebrow is the only indicator of his confusion. Either he is playing dumb or prefers to treat the problem like he treats all things that evoke painful emotions in him - as foreign, distant and unimportant. Unconsciously you lower your eyes, feeling disarmed by him and rather sad since he obviously shoves you in the pile with all the rest of his friends – close enough to care for you, not important enough to allow his walls to fall. A blue shine in the periphery of your sight catches your attention. When your eyes land on the glowing reactor in his chest, the desire to drag your fingers over the mechanism takes over.
Instead you place a hand over it. Tony intakes sharply, obviously not having expected the contact or simply not enjoying it. Both scenarios leave a bitter taste in your mouth.
“Is my touch so repulsive to you when it holds no sexual context?” the low whisper bounces off the walls like a dreadful omen.
His silence stands for confirmation. Stepping away and letting your hand fall down lifelessly, you find yourself once again fighting back tears. Tears of hurt, pain and disappointment.
Your erratic heartbeat seems to echo in the workshop like an accusation to both of you as the silenced prolongs. Gritting your teeth in order to prevent a whimper from slipping, you turn on your heel and stride off. Halfway out, Tony’s defeated voice trails after you.
“That’s not true, Y/N.”
Halting mid-step, your shoulders slump down in reconciliation.
“I take great joy in your touch, actually. It sooths me. Fights away the demons that poison me.”
“Then why do you keep on pushing me away?”
“I don’t want to hurt you, Y/N. I won’t be able to stand myself, knowing that I have disappointed you.”
With your back to him, you are grateful that the tears brimming your eyes stay hidden.
“I-I…” he sounds lost as his habitual arrogance seems to have evaporated. Now he’s open and vulnerable.
It seems that both of you aren’t as tough as you appear to be. Resembling a candy, on the outside you are hard, but only to protect the precious gift that lingers within.
“I’m going to bed Anthony. Feel free to join me whenever you are ready.”
The initial plan is to walk away, give him some time to think, to reconsider all those walls he has erected around his heart and eventually come to terms with himself, no matter what decision he makes. You aren’t supposed to stop at the door as if someone plunged the batteries straight out of your back. You needn’t take extra time to dial in the code in the padlock. Yet you do. Guess you are just selfish like that –want him to make up his mind immediately, be as spontaneous now as he is when it comes to crazy, life-threatening missions. ‘A fruitless hope.’ you think after the door opens with a low whooshing sound.
With your foot already over the threshold, it’s Tony’s voice, the silently whispered plea, that makes you halt yet once again.
“Stay.”
He sounds so broken, lonely and desperate that for the life of you, you can’t deny him even if you wanted to. And you don’t. So returning by his side, you listen to what has been the problem with the device and try to propose a solution. And to your utter amazement he takes it into consideration, until eventually, with a slight nudge of course, he pulls up the plans for the construction and gives them another look. Ironically it’s you who finds the mistake there as well; having in mind your lack of knowledge whatsoever in the fields of mechanics and robotics, the fact that you spotted the misplaced equation is mostly a result of an excessive amount of luck.
It is around three in the morning when Tony finally puts down the wrench and takes a sit in one of the vacant chairs, looking smug all over again. Like a man who has accomplished the unachievable. Against your will, your lips also drag upwards into a satisfied smile. The rather loud yawn that follows breaks the newly settled silence, making the male raise an eyebrow your way in amusement.
“I say we call it a day, or a night in this case, and go to bed.” another yawn follows, as if to confirm your words.
“Go rest, Y/N. I will follow in a jiff.”
“No you won’t.” the grumpy statement makes the playboy acquire a perplexed expression. “You will stay here until I come back in the morning, carrying a tray of food and a huge jug of coffee. You will either be passed out on that bean thing in the corner or be trying to beat your record at somnambulism. Either way tonight you most probably won’t be coming to bed with me.”
There’s no accusation or scold in those words as you are simply laying out the facts. It won’t be the first time to find him passed out from exhaustion in his workshop and it definitely won’t be the last. He is just geeky and devoted like that.
“Robo-nurd.” muttering to yourself, you place a kiss on his forehead, not minding that he’s slightly sweaty, and turn to leave.
“You are a really capable man, Anthony, and I’m very proud of you. Never forget that, champ. ” tossing over your shoulder, you take a few steps towards the door until his voice stops you.
“Y/N?” glancing behind you dye to the uncertainty lingering in his voice, you fight back yet another yawn.
“Hm?”
“Will you… can you... I mean… W-what I want to say is…” running a hand through his messy hair in irritation, Tony has your full attention right away.
With a deep sigh he looks at you with pleading eyes, yet you cannot fathom for the life of you what is that he wants. Eventually coming to terms that he’ll have to say whatever is bothering him out loud, he takes a deep breath and looks to the side, slightly ashamed.
“Will you hug me?” the words shoot so fast out of his mouth that you do a double take.
‘Did he just… asked for a real physical contact?’ dumbfounded for a second, you feel perplexed whether to throw yourself at him or laugh your head off.
The more you stay silent, the more agitated he gets. His eyes not even once stray your way, but rather move around the room.
Deciding action speaks louder than words, you walk back and stand before him, leaving him no choice but to look up at your face and meet your eyes. Right now he is your complete opposite – anxious, angry, sad, confused. And like always you accept him the way he is.
“Took you long enough, champ. And you didn’t choke on the words, which is always a plus.”
Sitting in his lap and wrapping your hands around his neck, you tug him towards you until his head rests on your chest, his hot breath reaching your skin through the thin fabric of the tee shirt. Shyly his hands snake around your middle and pull you in a desperate embrace. ‘He never knew how much he needed this. A simple gesture of love and understanding.’ the realisation makes you hug him even harder and burry your face in his hair.
“You will make me regret this later, won’t you?” his humorous and slightly resigned voice makes you scoff.
“What kind of a question is that Anthony?” faking hurt, you gently run your nails down his back, making him shudder. “Of course I will be teasing you! Do you know that I was on the brim of tying you to a chair so that I can freely touch you without your constant flinching like a scared bunny?!”
He slightly pinches your side, making you jump and as revenge you tug at his hair.
“Just so we are clear – I am no bunny. But apart from that - I like the way you had it planned out.”
He gently nibbles at your neck, making you giggle.