Marvel Oneshots

Sleeping on the couch

Tony:

The night had started off with so much promise. You'd been looking forward to this dinner for weeks—an evening out with Tony, just the two of you, no interruptions, no last-minute work calls. You'd picked out a dress you knew he loved, your excitement bubbling up with each second as you waited for him. But as the minutes ticked by and the waiter returned to your table for the third time, offering you a sympathetic smile as you assured him, Yes, your date is on his way, your heart began to sink. Forty minutes passed before you realized he wasn't coming.

The car ride back to Stark Tower felt like an eternity. Your phone buzzed with a single text from Tony: Running late, love. Sorry. But by then, the disappointment had already set in, heavy in your chest, each block bringing you closer to the same empty feeling that had started to haunt your relationship.

You headed straight to the lab the moment you arrived, walking in to find him bent over one of his holograms, oblivious to the time, to the world around him—to you. "Tony," you said, trying to keep the hurt from your voice. He looked up, startled, then flashed a sheepish smile.

"Oh, hey, sweetheart. I, uh... lost track of time," he mumbled, running a hand through his hair. "You know how it is with these things."

You stood there, feeling that familiar frustration building in your chest. "Yeah, Tony, I do know how it is. It's how it always is."

He blinked, as if genuinely surprised by your tone. "Come on, Y/N, it's not like I meant to ditch you. This project—"

"This project is always more important than anything else," you cut in, voice trembling slightly. "You didn't even text me until you were forty minutes late. Do you have any idea how humiliating that felt? Sitting there, alone, just waiting...."

He sighed, glancing away. "Y/N, you know my work is... complicated. Sometimes things come up that I can't ignore. It's not that I don't want to be there for you."

"But that's exactly what it feels like," you whispered, feeling the anger give way to sadness. "I just want you, Tony. Not the suits, not the genius billionaire—but you, with me, for me. Just one night, is that too much to ask?"

For a moment, he looked as though he might reach for you, that he might actually say something meaningful. But instead, he hesitated, and when he finally spoke, it was with a touch of exasperation. "Y/N, this isn't just about me or you. It's... a part of the package. I've got responsibilities, things that need my attention."

"Of course," you replied, voice hollow, all the fight draining out of you. Without another word, you turned on your heel and walked out, the sound of his sigh echoing behind you.

In the living room, you grabbed a blanket and curled up on the couch, willing yourself to let the anger fade, to just fall asleep. But the quiet of the tower seemed to press in on you, your mind replaying the evening in an endless loop, each memory chipping away at your heart. You wanted to scream, to cry, to make him understand, but it felt like no matter what you said, he'd always find a way to rationalize it away.

As the hours passed, your exhaustion finally began to win out, and you closed your eyes, barely registering the soft footsteps approaching you. You felt the couch dip as Tony knelt down beside you, a hesitant hand brushing a strand of hair from your face.

"Y/N?" he whispered, his voice soft and unsure. "Are you awake?"

You pretended to be asleep, unsure if you had it in you to face him just yet. He sighed, his fingers lingering on your shoulder, a touch so gentle that it sent a pang through your heart.

"God, I messed up, didn't I?" he murmured, mostly to himself. "Why do I always... I don't want to push you away. It's just... hard to stop, to slow down, when I'm so used to running."