Shadowplay | Tony Stark

FIVE - A PARTING GIFT

"Mommy!"

Mila instantly stepped back from Tony, swallowing once when she heard her son's voice calling her from upstairs, the sound almost feeling like two hands grabbing her and shaking her to start seeing clearly again.

"I should, uh..."

"Yeah," Tony blinked quickly, nodding and looking away from the woman in front of him, scratching the back of his neck, "Yeah, you should."

Mila just nodded, heading towards the kitchen door with her head down and an incessant twist of embarrassment crippling her insides, cursing at herself inwardly.

"Hey Mila?" Tony called out.

She stopped with one hand on the doorframe of the kitchen and turned back to look over her shoulder. The way she saw Tony couldn't have been more different to the way she saw him just ten seconds ago, only adding to the awful sensation she felt building up inside of her, desperate to pretend like the entire thing had never even happened.

"Yeah?" She said, plastering a false smile on her flushed face.

Tony was stood with his hands in his pockets, an apologetic smile tugging on one side of his lips and sleep washing through his eyes, clear that he needed to rest his mind.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that. I crossed a line and it was unnecessary and stupid and I'm so sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I-"

"It's fine," Mila said quickly, hearing Tristan call her once more from his bed, "Goodnight, Mr Stark."

Tony watched as Mila disappeared up the stairs, staying quiet as he listened to her calming her son. He couldn't quite hear what they were saying, but he made out the sweet sound of a lullaby being sang before a door closed, the house plunging into a dark silence.

He flicked off the lights downstairs and headed to bed. The sheets were crisp and cold, making Tony shiver as he pulled them up over his body. He lay under the sliver of white light from the moon that crept around the curtain, staring at the ceiling knowing that any hopes of a good nights sleep were now nonexistent.

His thoughts continued to plague him while he listened to the wind whistle outside, making the windows howl and bricks rattle. Tony wasn't sure what had come over him downstairs and why he thought for even a second that it was a good idea to try and kiss Mila.

He didn't know the girl, not that being a stranger had ever stopped him before, but it wasn't as if the pair had met at a bar and decided to go home together, in fact, it was the opposite.

Tony kicked himself while he lay wide awake, growing angry for viewing Mila the same way he'd viewed other women. She had been kind to him, and not because she wanted something in return, but because her heart was crafted from the finest gold, not in search of it.

He was used to sleeping with women just because he could, acting on their advances if they'd approached him in a club or at a party. Tony couldn't remember ever having to particularly charm a woman, always recalling women being the ones to make the first move on him rather than the other way around. The thought that he'd influenced Mila that night made his stomach turn, drowning him in guilt that he'd perhaps edged her conscious towards something that never would've crossed her mind had he just acted the way he knew he should've.

When the sun rose the next morning and burned through the window onto Tony's face, his first thought was a prayer that there wouldn't be even an ounce of awkwardness between the two of them.

He crept across the hallway and took a shower before getting dressed into his own clothes, leaving the ones Mila had bought for him folded up neatly on the foot of the bed.