Steel Meets Iron

Chapter 21

It was so good to be coming home. Raven missed being in Stark Tower, she missed her room, her bed, Timber, she missed her painted wall, she missed the view of the city, the sound of Tony's rock music, Pepper's clicking heels when she came home. She missed everything that made home home. The hospital was okay but she missed moving around as she pleased, she missed the space, the leathery couch, all her snacks and box juices. She couldn't wait to go home.

"Hey where are we?" She asked Tony when the car pulled up to somewhere that wasn't Stark Tower. "It's a museum," she said once seeing a sign. "Why are we here?"

Tony tried his hardest not to ruin the surprise. "Oh, I just thought we'd have a little fun before we go home." Raven looked at him wide-eyed and curious. "What? I thought you liked museums?"

"I thought the doctor said I'm not supposed to be overexcited about stuff?" She responded.

"Bah!" He waved it off. "A little surprise won't surprise." Happy opened the door for them. "C'mon."

Without thinking he scooped her up, carrying her to the entrance with such ease and naturalism, onlookers that recognized him had to look twice. Tony Stark casually dashing with a scrawny kid in dull cotton pants and top, hanging on to him, ankles locked and fingers clasped like a baby monkey. They were perfectly together like yin and yang.

"It's an art museum," Raven realized in awe.

"The Museum of Modern Art," he announced proudly. "Only found in New York," he added. "Well aren't you lucky?" Her gaping gaze made him laugh. "So where do you want to start?"

She turned her head, looking left and right. "That way!" She pointed randomly.

He never knew how much Raven loved art until he saw her face. With every notable art piece she gasped, 'aahed' and 'oohhed', eyes lighting up while her face bloomed. He envisioned contained awe and shy admiration, instead she bubbled over with glee, squealing at every art piece she recognized and knew and she knew so much. The same way he had built his first motherboard, his first motor, his first robot, how he knew every little gear and bolt she knew art. She was inspired by the most basic things that existed long before metal became his trade. They weren't just materials to her, they were bits and pieces begging to be made into something to be captured and treasured.

Although she had given his a specific direction to go to he had a destination already made out for them. Tony set her down and waited for her to see it, he waited for her to see what he had no idea even resided there. He waited anxiously as she looked at all the various paintings still not believing where she was, how she spun and drank each one of them in. Abruptly she paused and like she had opened a present he analyzed her face down to the breath that sucked her cheeks. She had seen it and the world had became quiet. Her face was unreadable and her eyes trance-like, Tony swore that she would faint, she didn't make a single sound, she just stared. Had she actually gone into shock? For a second Tony wondered if he should have brought her so soon after being medically cleared. Raven then walked up to Vincent Van Gogh's Starry Night silent as a phantom in march-like strides.

Tony was never one for art but he had to admit, it was one cool painting, all the shades of blue, the glowing balls of yellow, the shining moon and reflecting water. Any kid would fall in love with it. Yet when he looked Raven he didn't feel the simple childish adoration for the beauty, as always it was deeper than that, much deeper.

"It's even more beautiful in person," she murmured. She held his hand when he came beside her. "Nobody liked Van Gogh when he was alive," she told him, "they said he was crazy."

"Oh yeah?" He knew that much but went along with it.

"He drew what he saw," she continued solemnly. "When he was alive people drew the exact same thing they saw but Van Gogh didn't." Her voice became more lifted. "He said that nighttime was prettier than daytime. This was how he saw the sky," all the avid admiration came through her voice. "He didn't see black and white, he saw, this," she gestured to the painting like it was ultimate truth to the world. "Blues and yellows. Isn't it wonderful Tony?"