You're my escape- A Peter Parker Love Story

A Catastrophe

The heavy bass of an old song drummed through the loudspeakers at every corner of the room. Eliza, who sat in the middle of the room on a tall stool, heard it from every angle, and it hurt her head. She didn't understand how Tony could like such tasteless music. It didn't tell a story, it didn't make her feel anything. If anything it made her feel annoyed. But, sadly, she couldn't do anything about the music. Tony was very strict on his rules, one of which was that if she wanted to spend time with him in his work shop she had to endure his music.

She had been tortured before, relentlessly actually, but the Red Room Academy was missing an integral step in their torture schemes- obnoxious music played at high volumes. She was sure most of the girls would crack under such duress.

"You're being quiet," Tony noted as he messed with the electromagnetic mechanism in her batons.

Eliza raised a brow as she lifted her head to watch him. "Am I?"

"You normally talk about anything, or ask questions about what I'm doing," He told her as he walked beside her to grab a tool from another desk. She craned her head to watch him, then slouched back over as he moved to his original spot in front of her. "You're a very curious individual."

"I like to know as much as I can," she disclosed. "And you seem to know a lot about a lot, so I figured you were the person to ask."

"Ah," Tony's chin lifted up as he grinned madly at her. "There you go stroking my ego again."

Eliza tilted her head at the odd way he put it. He made it seem like his ego was a different entity from himself.

"Natasha tells me your ego doesn't need any help. It's already big enough on its own."

Tony laughed, which somehow quieted the music and sounded less irritating to her. Her back straightened up as she realized she much preferred the sound of laughter to old 80's rock.

"Was that a joke?" He threw his screwdriver up in the air, then caught it and pointed the flathead tip towards her. "Did you just attempt an actual joke?"

Eliza's face scrunched up in disgust. "No." She deadpanned. "Why would I use humor? In many forms it's a sign of a defense mechanism, used to distract from a person's true pain. Am I in pain?" She asked him rhetorically. "No," she answered her own question before he could get a peep in. "Therefore, I don't need humor."

Tony clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. His happy demeanor fell slightly as he set the screwdriver on the desk next to her batons and turned to give her his undivided attention. He clicked a button on his wristlet and the music cut out entirely, giving her a sense of relief.

"Humor isn't just a defense mechanism," he told her as if he were explaining the laws of quantum physics. "It's used to brighten a room, cure a crowd of the blues, lighten someone's mood. Here-" he stepped in front of her and lifted his hands to prepare her. "You're always frowning and you have the straight back thing going on- which, good for you, that's excellent posture- but, what if I were to tell you that laughter would help you relax. It'd give you a smile without having to force it- I saw that attempt of a smile you gave Natasha before she left."

Eliza bowed her head in shame.

"Humor can fix that for you," he told her. "Plus, humor isn't all about you."

"No?" She raised her head to watch as he went back to his desk. He picked up his screwdriver, then used it to uncap the blue glowing disk from her bracelet.

"Making other people laugh... that is the greatest treat." He lifted his head to stare at something in front of him.

Eliza's gaze shifted to see what caught his eye, but there was nothing in front of him aside from the giant wall of windows. His workshop faced the driveway, but with how far out they were, there were no cars coming or going, which left the driveway barren.