STARK STRUCK (Tony Stark × Reader)

42. Aftermath

Y/n's POV

Right now

"And did anyone notice Clint?" Nat nods at him, slouching on the couch, "he turned ninja mode,"

"Someone had to take charge, you know?" Clint shrugs, his feet on the table, as he sits on the nearby couch.

The Avengers are sitting around lounging in the common room, which is lit by their chattering and giggling. Tony is sitting on the bar stool across the room, and he reaches for the nearby bottle of alcohol.

You approach him, putting a hand on his shoulder gently, "weren't we supposed to be leaving for Malibu?"

He smiles up at you, wrapping his arm around your waist, gently caressing it, "we are, sweetheart."

"I was starting to doubt it..." You glance down at the bottle in his hand, then eye him for drinking before driving.

"Come on, it's me. I can handle a car when I'm ten down. This is just one..." He pulls on your waist a little which makes your hand instinctively rest on his shoulder.

You shake your head at him in amusement and the conversation pulls your attention making you look away from him.

"The real fun began when iron woman showed up" you hear Clint chuckling.

You can feel Tony's prideful grin beside you, while Steve continues, "when I saw her jetting around, I thought Tony made a clone or something."

You snicker, walking up to them, resting your hands on the back of the couch everyone was around, leaning on them, "and that clone crashed into the nearest building on her first flight, did you forget?" You say making everyone laugh.

"A little trial and error, Y/n..." Tony says taking a sip from his drink, and you look over your shoulder at him. At this point you're flirting with each other with every glance and each smile, it's pretty obvious and undeniable. "Sometimes you gotta crash before you could fly," He smirks in his glass and you roll your eyes at him playfully.

You wrestle with the repulsors, lurching out of the building like a drunk pigeon. Before you can catch your balance, you slam into the ceiling, sparks flying as you wince. Your pupils barely adjust to the light entering your squinting eyes, when you see the open blue sky swallowing you whole. Your heart stutters, and you cut the repulsors entirely.

Brilliant. Now you're free falling like a bag of rocks.

"Well, this is going well," you mutter through gritted teeth. The repulsors go on and off like a broken light bulb as you try and figure your way to control this complex suit while simultaneously dodging the robots firing and firing back as much as you could.

"Hey! Breathe, sweetheart!" You hear Tony's voice in your helmet, smooth and annoyingly calm. He's whooshes at your falling side, flying with ease. "Stop moving your hands like you're swatting flies. I thought you were smarter than losing your focus."

"Thanks, Einstein," you shoot back. "Didn't realize falling wasn't the goal." You shake your hand as though smacking a TV remote that's not working, still not having a straight trajectory.

"Wow, sarcasm while dropping to your doom. Adorable," he rolls lazily to hover in front of you. His movements are maddeningly graceful, as if he's showing off. Which he totally is. "Relax your wrists," he says, his tone smooth, as he teaches you. "Small movements. You're not conducting an orchestra here."

You huff, adjusting slightly, only to spiral sideways. "Small movements, he says," you mutter and huff. "Sure, let me just not die while I figure out your flying toaster."