Disclaimer: Do not own!
Yes, I have written more PadLock. Damn. XD Just a cute headcanon that popped into my head.
Enjoy!
"She's been out there for a while..."
"I think it's getting worse."
"At least it keeps her away from us."
Tony listens impassively to the wary mumbling of the puppets, glancing outside into the garden. Paige paces erratically on the expansive lawn, her pastel hair writhing like snakes as she drags her fingers angrily through her scalp. Mud sucks at her boots as if it wants to pull her down into the earth as she moves back and forth, a tempest trapped in a (somewhat) humanoid form. The puppets watch her, fascinated in the way people are with car crashes, but they duck should she glance in the direction of the window, like animals hiding when lightning strikes.
Tony is completely indifferent to the unease of the puppets- more often than not; he tends to be the cause of it, actually. But Paige is another matter, and if this goes on for much longer than the consequences may be both hazardous and time-consuming. Clearly, something must be done.
Paige growls.
The garden is a good place for creativity, but it's so damn green. In her anger, her arms and legs bleed ink, staining the lawn with each footstep she takes. It is something she has never been able to quite control, despite her typically cheerful veneer.
Footsteps, heavy but calm, are audible over her frantic pacing, and she whips around, hackles automatically raised should it be a noisy puppet interrupting her. Not that she thinks they would dare, but they can be pretty stupid at times.
"What was it you once said, about needing to slow down?" Tony hums, as Paige finally stops walking.
Shaking her head, she thrusts an arm at the dirt.
"Why won't they grow?" Paige hisses, as though the plants are conspiring against her. She flings her arms around the entirety of the garden in a wind milling motion, splattering ink in all directions like rain. "They were supposed to have bloomed by now! I can't stand all this- green!"
Tony sighs. The wind is blowing more frantically than ever, whipping rainbow-colored locks every which way, the skirt of her dress fluttering excitingly. But there's a time and a place to think about things like that...
Paige glares at him, crossing her arms over her chest, which promptly begins to spread diluted ink across her front. She ignores it- she can make herself clean pretty much instantly if she wishes, and Tony knows from much frustrating experience that Paige is messy by nature. He clears his throat dramatically, prompting a surly glance from her.
"If I do this for you, will you stop all this mucking around?"
Paige glances at him, curious, head tilted to one side.
"What will you do?" she hums, pursing her lips.
In answer, Tony lifts a gloved hand. He barely needs to concentrate- although time is certainly a mystery; he knows it well enough to get the desired results. It is admittedly unusual that Tony is motivated by altruistic purposes, but not unheard of. His methods are simply more fun.
As Tony spreads his fingers, Paige claps her hands in delight. Clouds roll across the sky, parting to make room for the sun, which has not made its appearance since Paige's bad mood. As the rays filter down, a golden spotlight, the soil begins to stir. Green fingers coil forth from seeds, accelerating towards the earth at a rapid page, unseen beneath the dirt but twisting determinately towards the sky, hastened on as Tony envisions hands on a clock whirring forwards. Trees shudder, buds rapidly opening to reveal blooms of many colors, blossoms exploding from the branches and filling the air like confetti. Brightly-colored blooms (not one of them green) burst forth from the soil, opening like eyes. Soon, the garden is full to bursting with news colors, smells, the sun and slight drizzle casting a glow upon the place, giving it a dazzling glow. The whole garden smells like wet earth and blooms, and Paige shrieks with glee.
"I love it!"
The moment Tony lowers his arm, Paige flings herself into his arms with excitement, and he almost stumbles backwards. He sighs as Paige exclaims loudly in his ear, but the angry patches of ink are gone and she is smiling again, so he supposes it's a small price to pay. His hands loop beneath her thighs. Smirking now, Paige leans forward and presses an enthusiastic kiss to his lips, pulling away with a loud smack. She giggles and leans in to whisper;
"That's being creative,"