#🌿tony stark — interactions.🌿

[storyuntrue]

While   Tony   could   very   well   fix   the   coffee   machine   in   his   workshop,   it   would   take   far   too   long,   and   he   needed   a   cup   as   soon   as   possible.   And   while   he   could   use   the   one   upstairs   too,   it   was . . .   well,   upstairs   and   he   didn’t   want   to   go   there   while   covered   in   grease   and   dirt.   Taking   a   shower   would   also   mean   taking   too   long,   and   a   cup   of   coffee   was   detrimental   for   him   to   get   within   the   next   hour.   

Which   had   him   making   his   way   down   the   street,   on   foot,   nose   stuck   in   his   phone   until   he   found   a   well   reviewed   coffee   shop   within   the   near   vicinity.   Uncaring   of   the   way   he   looked,   hair   disheveled,   bags   under   his   eyes   from   days   of   staying   awake,   working   on   the   latest   project,   grease   stains   on   his   pants,   hoodie   and   skin.   He’ll   just   pop   in,   order   like   ten   shots   of   espresso   and   be   out   in   a   few   minutes.   

What   he   hadn’t   expected,   as   he   pulled   the   door   open   and   found   his   way   to   the   counter,   and   finally, finally   tore   his   eyes   from   his   phone,   was   to   be   hit   with   a   sight   of   a   tall   glass   of   water   waiting   for   his   order.   “I . . .   uh . . .   Hi,”   Tony   breathes   out,   his   mind   short-circuiting   as   he   takes   in   the   clear   eyes   and   sharp   cheekbones   of   the   barista.   

@respondedinkind

[dreamnotnapper]

my mcu hypfx is currently kicking my ass so maybe its time for this blog to be multifandom..

[storyuntrue]

Tony   couldn’t   get   enough   of   the   man.   One   glance,   a   fleeting   moment   which   turned   into   an   obsession,   that’s   all   it   took.   He   blamed   the   fact   that   the   man   —   Khan   —   looked   back   with   so   much   emotion   within   his   sharp,   clear   gaze,   that   Tony   couldn’t   even   begin   to   unwrap   all   that   was   shown.   And   he   did   try.   It’s   the   reason   why   he   was   entering   the   brig   alone,   after   most   of   the   crew   had   gone   to   sleep.   There’s   a   phaser   attached   to   his   hip   set   to   stun,   what   for   he’s   not   entirely   sure.   It’s   not   like   he   was   afraid   of   @respondedinkind,   quite   the   opposite.   Not   to   mention   that   he’s   locked   in   a   cell,   unable   to   escape.   More   than   likely   unwilling   too,   from   what   Tony   has   heard.   Still,   he   was   not   an   idiot,   and   precautions   being   taken   was   always   a   smart   move.

The   harsh   overhead   lights   make   the   man’s   complexion   seem   all   the   paler,   a   stark   contrast   to   his   black   uniform.   He   doesn’t   know   what   to   say,   mouth   suddenly   dry   and   tongue   stuck   to   the   roof   of   his   mouth.   He   barely   even   blinks,   just   drinking   in   the   sight   of   him,   and   wondering   how   that   one   singular   moment   caused   numerous   dreams   to   haunt   Tony   every   single   night   since   then.   

“Who   are   you?”   That’s   the   question   he   eventually   settles   for;   no   amount   of   dry   information   about   the   tall   man   in   front   of   him   enough   to   quench   the   curiosity,   the   need   for   more.   

[storyuntrue]

@mistrdctr: you ever put your arms out and spin really, really fast? (For Tony)

“I   used   to   do   that   when   I   was   a   kid,”   his   response   follows   a   thoughtful   hum,   head   tipped   back   as   he   observes   the   night   sky   through   the   window.   As   much   as   he   loved   New   York,   the   light   pollution   hiding   away   the   stars   was   kind   of   a   deal   breaker   to   him   returning   to   this   town.   “Then   I   got   too   busy   with   school   and   university   and   working   for   the   company   day   in,   day   out.   And   then   nothing   could   compare   to   the   feeling   of   flying   in   the   armor,   so   I   never   tried   it   again.   Why?   Do   you   propose   we   do   that   now?”  

[storyuntrue]

His   curiosity   with   Stephen’s   scars   has   been   growing   exponentially   every   single   day.   Whether   there   was   a   free   minute   when   he   was   in   the   sorcerer’s   presence   and   said   sorcerer   didn’t   pay   attention,   Tony’s   gaze   would   always   wander   to   his   scarred   hands,   fascinated   by   every   quivering   movement   they   made.   

He’s   not   entirely   sure   why   he   was   so   downright   obsessed   with   those   scars.   Well   aware   of   the   accident   Stephen   got   himself   into,   Tony   has   to   wonder   whether   their   symbolic   nature   for   his   survival   was   the   reason   that   drew   him   in,   or   whether   it   was   both,   medical   advancements   at   managing   to   reconstruct   them,   and   medical   failures   of   not   doing   that   job   well   enough.   His   knowledge   in   the   medical   field   was   lacking,   by   his   own   standards,   but   he   had   to   wonder,   considering   his   abilities   with   the   technology,   if   he   would’ve   been   able   to   do   a   better   job,   given   the   time   and   the   needed   resources   to   figure   it   out.   Yeah,   sometimes   his   ego   was   too   big,   even   he   had   to   admit   it.   

Lost   in   his   ponderings   over   whether   he   could   have   changed   the   course   of   fate,   Tony   doesn’t   even   notice   himself   that   he   reached   out   to   graze   his   fingertips   over   Stephen’s   hands.   So   the   sudden   way   Stephen   recoils   leaves   Tony   genuinely   surprised   over   what   happened.   He   didn’t   mean   to   spook   the   sorcerer;   he   didn’t   mean   to   touch   him   in   the   first   place.   But   he   let   his   mind   wander   and   his   body   worked   in   accordance,   he   supposed.   “It’s   okay.   I   didn’t—   Sorry,   I   didn’t   mean   to   overstep   any   boundaries,   I   was   just. . .”   He   has   no   explanation   as   to   why   he   touched   him,   so   he   leaves   his   words   hanging.   

The   response   he   gets   is   quite   the   opposite   of   what   he   expected   though,   and   shock   returns   to   Tony’s   gaze   as   it   jumps   back   to   meet   the   clear   blue   of   Stephen’s   eyes.   Slowly,   a   lopsided   smile   curls   on   his   lips,   and   with   a   small   nod,   Tony   reaches   out   again,   his   fingertips   barely   ghosting   over   Stephen’s   scarred   skin.   “Is   it   good   sensitive   or   bad   sensitive?”   He   asks,   his   voice   barely   above   the   whisper.   “Cause   if   it’s   unpleasant,   I   can   stop.”  

@mistrdctr cont.

[storyuntrue]

@theirmadness: singing in a marilyn monroe voice: happy birthday, mister stark.... [ from nat ]

The   slow   smile   on   his   face   widens   with   every   note   her   voice   carries,   dark   eyes   glinting   and   trained   solely   on   the   redhead.   “My,   I   think   I   just   got   the   best   birthday   present   ever.”   Tony   makes   a   show   of   sweeping   his   eyes   over   her   body,   the   skin   tight   dress   doing   wonders   to   highlight   the   voluptuous   curves.   “Is   there   any   way   I   could   get   you   to   sing   to   me   every   night?”  

[storyuntrue]

@domuslux: “Next time you’re going to run off and nearly get yourself killed, don’t come pestering me after.”

He   can   easily   admit   that   this   was   not   his   brightest   idea.   Going   in   alone   to   try   and   defeat   a   handful   of   magic   wielding   bad   guys   was   probably   on   his   top   ten   most   stupid   things   that   he   had   done   list.   But,   in   his   defense,   as   small   as   it   may   be,   there   was   no   time   to   lose   in   deciding   what’s   smart   and   what   wasn’t   —   there   were   civilian   lives   at   stake   for   chrissake.   So   what   if,   after   the   throwdown,   he   had   decided   not   to   go   to   a   hospital,   but   to   one   of   the   couple   of   people   he   knew   who   could   check   him   out   if   there   was   any   magic   to   the   injuries   he   sustained.   Considering   Stephen’s   greeting,   he   should   have   gone   to   Wong   ( his   reply   would’ve   probably   been   worse   than   that ).   

So   there   he   is,   clutching   at   his   bleeding   side,   looking   at   the   sorcerer   with   a   single   eyebrow   raised   —   there   was   a   cut   in   the   middle   of   the   other,   and   moving   it  hurts   like   a   bitch.   

“I   would’ve   expected   a   bit   more   appreciation   for   fighting   magical   goons   so   that   you   don’t   have   to   move   your   tight   ass   to   deal   with   it   yourself.”   A   grumble   through   gritted   teeth,   he   heaves   a   breath,   and   fuck,   he   really   needs   to   move   this   along   if   he   wants   his   plan   to   not   bleed   out   onto   this   ancient   carpet   to   remain   in   tact.   

“Could   you   just   please   check   if   I   don’t   have   any   curses   cast   on   me?   Promise,   as   soon   as   you   do,   I’ll   be   out   of   your   hair.      Help   a   guy   out   here,   and   I’ll   even   go   to   the   hospital   right   after   like   a   good   boy.   Scout’s   honor   and   all   that   bullshit.”

[storyuntrue]

There’s   only   so   much   schmoozing   and   picture   perfect,   plastic   smiles   that   he   could   do   before   a   break   was   in   order.   While   he   was   trained   on   what   to   do   and   what   to   say   in   order   to   grease   up   potential   business   partners   and   investors,   in   reality   he   hated   most   of   those   evenings.   Of   course,   alcohol   was   a   delightful   crutch,   but   it   didn’t   always   help.   Ergo,   him   slipping   away   into   the   cool   of   the   night   for   a   breather,   no   longer   than   ten   minutes,   he   promised   himself.   

It   seems   that   some   luck   has   been   on   his   side,   for   on   his   little   sneak   out   escapade,   Tony   ran   into   the   one   person   he   had   actually   wanted   to   talk   to   this   entire   evening.   So   of   course,   instead   of   sneaking   away   before   he   could   be   spotted,   he   made   his   presence   known,   and   received   a   retort   not   a   moment   later.   One   which   caused   the   engineer   to   break   out   into   a   grin.

Hands   stuffed   into   the   pockets   of   his   slacks,   Tony   crosses   the   remaining   distance,   coming   to   stand   beside   Stephen,   dark   gaze   never   leaving   the   tall   figure   of   the   other.   “I   think   you   did   fairly   alright for yourself.   Couldn’t   find   a   moment   to   get   you   all   to   myself   for   a   conversation.   So   while   you’re   no   match   for   me   when   it   comes   to   soaking   up   the   attention,   you’re   getting   there.”   

@domuslux cont.

[storyuntrue]

@sugarspicesins: i hate that i think of you. - natasha @ tony

All   her   words   do   is   make   him   grin.   Where   she   saw   devastation,   Tony   saw   an   opportunity.   A   way   to   build   something   new,   something   that   could   make   them   potentially   happy,   or   at   the   very   least   be   incredibly   fun   for   a   few   months.   “You   only   hate   it   because   you   don’t   know   something   I   do,”   he   chirps   back,   moving   closer.   “So   I’ll   let   you   in   on   that   secret,   just   to   make   you   feel   better   —   I   think   of   you,   too.”   

[storyuntrue]

@ofaflower: you’re holding a fucking screwdriver to my throat! (Stephen to tony)

Though   Tony   hears   the   words,   it   still   takes   a   minute   for   them   to   connect   to   their   meaning.   His   mind   still   very   much   filled   with   sleep   and   dreams,   he   has   to   shake   his   head   quickly   and   violently,   before   he   pulls   the   screwdriver   away   and   tosses   it   to   the   side   of   the   bed.   “Shit,   I’m   sorry.   I   didn’t—   didn’t   hear   you   coming   back.”   

It’s   the   house   that   keeps   him   on   the   alert.   He’s   pretty   sure   it’s   haunted,   though   Stephen’s   not   quick   to   agree   with   him   on   that   one.   But   all   the   banging   and   random   noises,   disappearing   or   broken   stuff   and   the   cold   spots   he   had   experienced   had   left   the   mechanic   feeling   pretty   jittery.   And   yes,   while   a   screwdriver   is   useless   against   a   ghost,   one   being   kept   under   his   pillow   helped   him   sleep   at   night   better.   

Though   that’ll   have   to   be   revised   after   this   night,   considering   that   not   five   minutes   ago,   he   had   pinned   Stephen   down   for   trying   to   cuddle   up   to   him,   straddled   him   and   pressed   the   tip   of   the   screwdriver   right   to   the   skin   of   his   throat.   It’s   too   close   a   call.   “What   are   you   even   doing   back   home   so   late   anyways?”  

[storyuntrue]

Tony   has   to   wonder   where   the   animosity   was   coming   from.   It’s   not   like   he   was   hounded   out   and   taken   away   from   his   fiancée   to   come   help   out   with   a   universe   ending   crisis.   Oh   wait,   he   was.   And   he   was   met   with   attitude   instantly,   as   though   he   had   invited   himself   to   this   bullshit   trip.   It   set   his   teeth   on   edge,   curled   fists   not   betraying   the   slight   tremor   in   his   left   arm.   

“What’s   your   problem?”   Tony’s   blunt   about   his   approach;   wanting   the   air   to   be   cleared   between   them   before   they   could   reach   their   destination.   With   a   team   breaking   at   the   seams,   they   won’t   last   two   minutes   before   the   mad   titan.   So   fixing   this,   the   friction   between   them,   and   fixing   it   as   soon   as   possible,   was   the   only   solution,   the   only   right   outcome.   “Come   on,   man,   lay   it   on   me.   What   the   hell   have   I   done   to   deserve   this   prissiness   coming   from   you?”   

@theirmadness cont.

[storyuntrue]

TAG DROP! TONY STARK.