Chapter Six
Leigh actually heads to sleep after Branson's voicemail, skipping dinner. She dons the noise-canceling headphones he'd stocked in the bunker as a concession to the idea that the future occupants might need the illusion of privacy. Her hair is braided up tight again, tucked around her head like a protective serpent.
Bottom line, Tony has to make this better.
Telling himself it would have happened anyway, as Branson had hinted at, well. Whether that's true or not, it happened this way, and this is what he has to deal with. He huddles over by FRIDAY's speaker all evening and into the night, organizing things for the morning.
First, Tony sends a team of twenty guys to Leigh's apartment to pack everything up and take it to New York, to the tower. She'll say yes in the morning, and if she doesn't, he'll find her somewhere to live, without her ever having to deal with that landlord again. Packing sucks, she'll get over it.
As a giant 'fuck you' to the press camped outside of Leigh's apartment, Tony makes sure the moving guys have a few full sized sheets made of that anti-paparazzi material that ruins flash photographs.
He pays overtime for some of his tech guys to convert Bruce's old lab next to his into a virtual workspace for her. A late-night call with Branson allows one of his movers to drop by and pick up some of Leigh's work things, but not all of them, because Tony hopes that things will die down eventually. Charriotte deserves to have the facility upgrade whether or not she'll ever be able to work there again, honestly, so for good measure he hires a legal team to get that in motion.
Branson is insufferable about the situation. He's a smart man, and the whole office had known about Leigh's laryngitis fakeout. The thing is, Tony actually doesn't want to tell Harriot what Leigh's first words were to him. He doesn't want her boss to lose any respect for the kind, competent person she is at work, because her decision to use them as a weapon against Tony is their business alone.
He walks over to the air mattress at around one in the morning, ostensibly to check on her, but it's really just to ease his conscience. Tony's no stranger to nightmares, and he knows their signature. Leigh hadn't borne those signs the night before, but tonight she has some new burdens, ones Tony's hefted onto her shoulders.
Leigh's sleeping face is serene, he's relieved to see. She's huddled herself up against the wall, which tells him that her bed is probably set up that way. In another life, or perhaps far in the future, the space left beside her on the mattress would be enough for him to occupy, but not tonight. Instead, he lays down right on the rug beside it, pillows his head on his arm, and closes his eyes to wait for his turn.
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Tony wakes up disoriented. His hips don't hurt, his neck doesn't hurt, and he's lying on something softer than a rug on top of the lakebed. He's under a blanket.
When his eyes adjust to the low light, he understands that he's on the air mattress. He would never choose to sleep in this position, meaning- meaning that Leigh had probably rolled him up onto the mattress, covered him with a blanket, and left him to sleep. And Tony, the man of nightmares about fighting aliens and dropping out of a portal in the sky, of calling his suits to protect him in his sleep? Didn't wake up enough to remember.
Fear grips him for a bizarre second. Is this an insidious way of lowering his guard? Are soulmates designed to showcase human weakness? But he rejects this almost as quickly. Thanos is both dead and finished, and the Titan hadn't seemed to be bothered by either state of being. The insidious part is simple: Tony failed, and now he gets to attribute his future happiness to an action by Thanos, his mortal enemy. It's causal. If (Tony fails) then (he gets a soulmate). If he rejects her, it's still a gotcha. A lose/lose.
Except, from where Tony is, literally tucked in by a person that's becoming very important to him, it doesn't necessarily have to be that way. If you are happy despite all efforts to poison that happiness, aren't you the victor in that scenario? It's a new thought, and Tony's not sure whether he's grasping at straws or a complete genius (there are levels of genius, and relationships were never his strong suit). He's not ready to accept that Thanos has done something valuable with soulmates, but he's not (as annoying as it is to even think the cliche phrase) going to look a gift horse in the mouth. At least not right now.
He sits up slowly, looking for Leigh. Tony spots her sitting in the corner in a camp chair, her feet up on the other one, reading quietly on the kindle paperwhite he'd stuck in a pocket on a whim.
"FRIDAY, what time is it?" he asks.
"It is 7:45 in the morning. You have forty minutes before the magnetic locks disengage. A helicopter will arrive five minutes beforehand, and you and Miss Balci will trade places with the security team that will pack up and dismantle the bunker, if that's all right with you, Boss."
"That's up to the other boss," Tony says, looking over at Leigh. She rewards him with a shy smile at the term, then gets up and pushes a button. The Keurig starts up, and he mouths a 'thank you.' "Can you make sure someone returns the rental van and gets my StarkPad back where it belongs?"
"Already done."
"Speaking of already done," Tony says to Leigh. "I made a command decision to pack up your apartment." He stands by the coffeemaker waiting for her reaction.
"Thank you. With less than an hour to go, I'll see what kind of last-minute moving van I can get," she says, making a face.
He'd forgotten she's not calibrated to billionaire like he is. "No, I'm saying it's probably done by now. On one of our trucks."
"...overnight?" she asks, disbelieving.
"Money can't buy happiness but it sure as hell eliminates the shit that makes us miserable," he quips. His coffee is finished, but Tony pauses, looks at her stunned expression, and holds his hand out. Leigh's brow furrows for a second before she gives him her mug, and he hands her his full one.
"Did you do this because the truck is on its way to New York City?" Leigh asks him, lifting the new mug for a sip.
He didn't, but it's an easy way to break it to her. "Yes."
"I don't know anything about New York City," Leigh says. Her eyes are guarded.
"I can show you." Tony wonders if what he pictures when he says that (Leigh's face when she sees the view from his penthouse, sharing some of the good restaurants with her, maybe even taking her somewhere with the suit) is the same as what she pictures (thrift stores? Museums, almost a guarantee. Broadway? Tony winces inwardly).
"What about my five cats?" she asks, biting her lip and looking at him with crystal sincerity.
He almost, almost tells her, curtly, that he had them euthanized, because he knows she's kidding. He had been on the video call when his people first went in so he could ensure they took a ton of photos to recreate her apartment in New York. He knows for a fact that she does not have cats.
"No cats."
Leigh's solemn demeanor fractures into laughter. "Aww, I was just about to tell you I named them all after the Avengers. All but you," she says.
Her amusement is infectious, but Tony's immune. Being reminded of the Avengers means being reminded about the text message he'd gotten from Steve and Nat, six months ago. No messages for months beforehand, none since.
'Barton's gone rogue.'
There's an inbox specifically designed to keep all attachments that Dr. Bruce Banner sends in his emails, no matter how long they sit unread.
Another inbox (the one Tony's most ashamed of) is set up to use FRIDAY to scan the sporadic emails that Natasha sends him. The AI calculates a non-committal, cooly caring response to send in return, without any input from him. Nat has to know, but she keeps emailing.
Tony thinks FRIDAY keeps the five emails he's gotten from Steve Rogers over the course of their association in an old file folder marked as something else. He's never searched for them, because then he might read them, and he can't do that without feeling things he'd rather not feel. Things he's feeling right now.
Fuck, he misses them.
Fuck.
Leigh gets up and hands him her still-warm, half full coffee cup, and he drinks it, keeps swallowing until it's gone. When he looks for her afterwards, she's putting on the overalls and jacket she'd been wearing when he'd first seen her on-site two days ago.
"Do you want me to avoid mentioning them, Tony?" Leigh asks quietly.
He wants to say yes.
He needs to say yes.
"No."
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They hear the helicopter before the ceiling hatch releases. Tony can see that Leigh's anxiety level has skyrocketed, but he's never really given that much of a shit what the press thinks. Advising her on how to handle it when she is someone who does care is tone deaf. Especially since they're only swarming because of him in the first place.
So, Tony feels like the two of them are oddly disconnected from each other as he stands on the collapsible step stool waiting for the seconds to tick down so he can open the hatch. When it unlocks, he pulls himself up and out, sitting with his legs in the opening for a short while as he looks around. His plan with the local police has succeeded, after a fashion- the press were trespassed off of Tony's property, which extends to thirty more feet from the bunker. The airspace above them is also restricted, with his helicopter exempted, of course. So, there's no camp of vultures nearby. They're located far enough away that Leigh should be able to relax when she sees things aren't as bad as she'd been expecting. No matter who Tony's neighbors are, the chances they could turn down the amount of money those guys probably threw at them for access is basically nil. He doesn't blame them much.
"You ready?" he calls down.
"Almost," Leigh responds. She sounds like she just got done laughing, and when she walks over to stand under the opened hatch, she's not wearing the overalls anymore. Her skirt looks different, too.
Tony leans over to help her climb up. Once she's standing beside him, Leigh straightens up and lifts one leg to brush her hand over it, like she's trying to hide something. Her ankle-length skirt is now a miniskirt; he assumes the bulk of it is hiding under the work coat she's still got on. His guys come over with a ladder, and Leigh waves Tony on first. She's still got her hand on her leg, as if she'd injured it and she's trying to keep the blood from staining her skirt, but the expression on her face is barely-concealed amusement, so Tony's at a complete loss.
Leigh climbs down the ladder and jogs over to get into the helicopter, and he climbs in after her. They settle in with their seatbelts, and the stomach-dropping lurch of takeoff tells Tony that the hard part is over.
He looks over at Leigh. She's obviously terrified.
It hits him: she wasn't afraid of the press at all. She's afraid of flying.
"Hey, you still with me?" he asks her, pitching his voice in the middle of comforting and teasing.
"Oh sure, yep, you've got it," she mutters.
"You could have told me."
"Yeah, I could have. I mean, pile on the dramatic irony, right?" The helicopter banks into a turn, and Leigh's face loses all color. Tony unbuckles and scoots right up next to her, pulling her to his chest. "No, no, no, buckle back up, that does not make me less nervous, God!" she complains.
"Nope, get it all out. Tell me exactly how much you hate this. Swear, even," Tony tells her. She's trembling in his arms, clutching handfuls of shirt fabric. "It helps, didn't you watch Mythbusters?"
"That was pain, Tony," Leigh complains.
"I'm definitely a pain," he teases. "Fine, if you won't unleash a blue streak, tell me what's up with the skirt." Leigh laughs into his chest, warm puffs of air that help him feel useful in his self-appointed task to soothe her.
She pulls back and says, "I knew they'd be trying to take high quality photos to check for soulmarks, so I thought I'd help a little." Leigh rests her left ankle on her right knee. There, written in blocky handwriting, are the words 'Fuck the press.'
Tony reaches out and spreads his thumb across the letters. It's the sort of thing he would have done shortly after his parents died, rebellious, using his antagonists against themselves.
"I seriously considered using a Bible verse to make them have to look up a verse telling them off, but I needed to pick something you'd actually say," Leigh tells him. She sounds uncertain, and Tony looks from the defiant words on her leg to her face.
"It's perfect," he tells her. The helicopter turns again, only slightly. Leigh gasps. Her hand is resting on his arm from her change of position, and her fingers curl into a defensive fist around his shirtsleeve. "What can I do?" Tony asks, tipping his head to the side.
Leigh closes her eyes tightly. "Distract me. Oh,stars, helicopters are like airplanes on speed, way more responsive, I can feel every little adjustment."
She's got a death grip on his sleeve, so Tony takes his other hand and smooths it along her arm, across the coarse fabric of the work jacket. The tension on her face eases a tiny bit. He slides that hand up, taking a chance, rubbing his thumb on her neck. Leigh lets out the breath she was holding.
Desire tightens in his gut. Tony continues the sweep of his thumb along her neck, watching her tension unspool as his ratchets up. He presses a little harder with the next caress. Leigh's fist loosens, and her hand grips his arm instead of his sleeve. The helicopter jumps, like it's skipped over an air pocket, and Leigh startles, turning her face into his hand, her lips on the base of his thumb.
She lets out a breath, and the heat it generates for him isn't only centered on where he's touching her. Tony's breathing hard. He feels like a complete ass, because while he's enjoying everything about this moment, Leigh's probably just trying to cope with being frightened. He's taking advantage. Tony starts to pull his hand away, but Leigh opens her mouth to object. The movement strokes his thumb along her lip, ramping up his arousal like an uncontrolled burn.
In any other situation, Tony would be like his old self, pulling her roughly to him, mastering her, taking what he wanted. But Leigh is like spun glass right now, delicate, breakable. He has no idea how to handle a woman like that. He's never cared to try.
Leigh opens her eyes. Tony's hand is cupping her cheek, his thumb resting on her lower lip. He takes a chance and moves it, the angle opening her mouth just a bit. Her eyes flutter closed for just a moment, a sign that she's affected, that she might want- Then Leigh's hand on his arm tugs him toward her.
All self-control gone, Tony leans in and drags his thumb down, opening her for him. He's eager and desperate; none of his feelings about Leigh are subtle, and neither is this kiss. Tony loves the warm, startled way she kisses back, her hand at his chest. Leigh's every bit as dynamic now as she has been for the past two days, pushing against him, then yielding sweetly. He's greedy, sucking on her lip, even though it could be too much, too soon for her.
The little whimper she lets out is everything. He's burning up and she's melting into him, her hand caught in his collar now, hanging on. Tony takes the way she moves closer as a cue to be bolder, letting himself taste her. Leigh answers the brushes of his tongue against hers, once, twice, more confident each time. It's perfect, she's perfect, and he never wants to stop.
"Descending into the airport now, sir," the pilot says over the PA system.
Leigh pulls back immediately but lays her warm hand on his cheek like an apology, resting her forehead near his collarbone. Tony turns his head just enough to whisper in her ear.
"Well, you wanted to be distracted. You're welcome." He hears the huskiness in his voice and wishes he could know how Leigh's body is reacting to it. One of Tony's favorite things to do in bed is to watch for and feel those reactions in a partner.
"We haven't landed yet, and if you die because you're not buckled in I will figure out how to haunt you!" she hisses, once again caught up in her fear.
"You've got to tell me whether you'd rather yell at me about buckling or have me buckle up because I'm game for either," Tony tells her. She glares at him and points, forcefully, at the nearest seat with a belt. He buckles in, but a minute later they're down, so technically he chose both options.
He doesn't get to tell her that, though, because Leigh does not waste time getting out of the helicopter. Tony's barely standing when he hears her already speaking to someone. Their voices are chased away by the rotor sounds, so he gets out and starts looking around.
Then he sees them. Rhodey and Leigh, shaking hands.
"No, no, no, break it up!" Tony says, waving his hand like an angry monarch. "You: over there," he points to Rhodey and gestures off into the far distance. "You- back in the helicopter. No fraternizing."
"But I'm scared of the helicopter," Leigh says, backing away from him towards Rhodey. "And he's a pilot."
"You got to professions?" Tony literally can not believe it. They're allies already.
"Hey, good to see you, man," Rhodey says with an easy grin. "Been a while."
"Yeah, I'm not the one dodging calls- or, at least, I wasn't, until yesterday." Tony lifts his chin and looks Rhodey in the eye. "Don't tell me you're here to gloat."
Rhodes shoots a look over at Leigh, his brows furrowing, before he shakes his head. "Did you listen to the messages I left for you?"
Tony makes a noise that's somewhere between 'profoundly hurt by the implication that I wouldn't' and 'of course not.' There's only a five percent chance those messages weren't about soulmates. Then again, Tony's always been the kind of guy who breaks all the rules about odds.
"Anyway, c'mon, the plane's ready to leave." Rhodes gestures toward the private plane and starts heading over to it, and Leigh smiles sweetly over at Tony before she follows. She's putting up a good front, but he can tell that she's still anxious.
Before they walk inside, she turns to tell him, "I'm at least grateful that we did the vehicles in this order. You'd probably have to tranquilize me to go from plane to helicopter!"
"You'll be able to sleep through the flight if you want. Pretty sure there's a bed," Rhodey says as he steps inside.
Tony takes that as a subtle threat even if his friend hadn't meant it that way. Rhodey knows what he used to get up to on this thing.
Leigh stops in her tracks once she gets three feet into the plane. Her hands scrabble at the buttons of the heavyweight jacket she's wearing, and she strips it off as if wearing it in a place like this is actively shameful. Tony snags it from her nerveless fingers, watching her remember that she'd tucked up her skirt, and self-consciously tug it down.
"I didn't realize…" she says, quietly.
Tony hands the jacket to one of the stewardesses, suddenly wishing there was a way to skip Leigh ahead through whatever existential crisis she's having. He walks up behind her and places his hand at her back, close enough for her to sense its presence, but not actually touching.
"You don't have to be Amelia Earhart, you'll be fine," Tony says, leading her to a seat. He sits down across from her as she buckles.
"No, that was an Orphan Annie reaction, there. I've worked for wealthy people before, but-"
She's interrupted by Rhodey laughing as hard as Tony's ever heard him, his eyes wide, hands clasped together. "Oh, this is going to be fun as hell, Daddy Warbucks."
"Pipe down," Tony tells him. To Leigh, he says, "You were saying?" But Leigh is almost a shadow of her vibrant self, eyes wide, shrinking into her seat.
"Aerophobia?" Rhodes asks her. Despite being a pilot, his tone is kind.
"Yep," Leigh says, leaning her head back on the seat and closing her eyes.
"I didn't mean to-" Rhodey says, probably meaning his earlier laughter, but Tony shakes his head.
"Rhodey's right, there is a bed, if you want to try to sleep through the worst of it," he offers her.
Leigh opens her eyes and stares at him. "A bed." She states it like he's teasing her.
Tony can't put his finger on what her issue is, but it's starting to trigger his need to be defensive. He reminds himself that she is very afraid right now, so he just lifts both hands in mock surrender. "You can get drunk instead, if you'd like that better."
"What if I want a shitty package of peanuts?" she asks, a bit of the fire he's used to seeing back in her voice.
"Sorry, nut free plane."
Rhodey starts coughing vociferously. Tony really hopes the source of his laughter isn't R rated.
"I guess money can't buy everything," Leigh says primly. The act doesn't quite work, because he's been around her long enough to know when she's holding back a laugh. The intimacy of that knowledge sits pleasantly in his chest.
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Leigh does end up getting some sleep on the flight, mostly thanks to the headphones one of the flight attendants donates to the cause. The young woman even gives up her StarkPhone so that Leigh, whose own phone is waiting for her in her new apartment in the city, can listen to music. Tony and Rhodey mostly speak about inconsequential things, using low voices even though it's obvious to Tony that Leigh has drifted off by halfway through the flight.
As they descend into New York, Rhodey nods over at Leigh's leg, a confused, amused look on his face. Tony follows his gaze and laughs.
"Her concession to being hounded by the press the second we got out of the bunker," he explains. The only thing visible is 'press,' so Tony gets to tell Rhodey the entire line, which his friend greatly appreciates.
"Tony, I truthfully did not come to gloat, man. I wanted to make sure you were all right. It's… look-"
Rhodey sits forward in his chair, tossing a look in Leigh's direction, probably to make sure she's still asleep. Tony's not sure what kind of deep truth is about to be imparted, but he doesn't feel quite as resistant to it as he might have been if he'd been trapped with basically anyone else for two straight days.
"You've never been the type to hang out with a large group of close friends, but it's felt like your sphere has shrunk down to just me, and sometimes not even that, lately. I genuinely didn't know what kind of shape you'd be in, after forty-eight hours," Rhodey says quietly. "I thought at the very least you'd be manic, with your asshole switch flipped past eleven."
"How does it feel to be wrong?" Tony asks smugly.
"Might want to check that last one," Rhodes cautions. "But nah, I'll cop to that. Glad to see it. But I guess if you spent that time with a woman willing to write swear words on her body to troll the press, it's not all that surprising." He looks down at the floor, glancing over at Leigh without turning his head. "Especially if she looks like that."
Tony gives himself permission to look over at Leigh, taking in the dusting of freckles over her cheeks and nose, the way her chest rises and falls with her sleeping breaths. The hair around her face has loosened from her braid a bit, with one lock pulled free and resting in a loop against her cheek.
"One more thing. If I promise not to give you shit about it: is she your soulmate?"
Tony's eyes immediately seek out Leigh's right wrist, where it looks like she's placed two large square band-aids over his name as a precautionary measure. He thinks she probably expected to hide them in the work coat.
"No comment, is the agreed line," Tony says, sitting back with a deliberately insufferable smirk. He knows the smile he's wearing is insincere, knows Rhodey recognizes that too.
"There's no shame in being happy, Tony."
"Speaking of which, how's that going, Colombo? Last I tried to contact you, you were on vacation." Rhodes isn't really a vacation guy, not that Tony hasn't dragged him on a few despite that.
Rhodey's smile is just shy of self-satisfied. "It was a long time coming. We had fun."
"Yeah, not as easy to answer when the shoe's on the other foot, is it?" Tony can't resist goading him.
"Hey, you're the one who always told me to keep the soulmate shit to myself. I'm happy to compare notes, but I'm just following orders, Mr. Stark."
Seconds later the plane touches down, and Tony glances at Leigh to see if she'll wake up with the bump of landing. She does. Initially confused, she seems to get nervous and agitated as she looks around at the unfamiliar surroundings. That is, until she sees Tony. After she locks eyes with him, Leigh lets out a breath, possibly of relief, and her death grip on her chair arms loosens.
It's maybe too much responsibility for him.
"Wow." Tony compensates with a shit-eating grin on his face. "I can't believe you slept through that. There could have been Langoliers or something."
"Your Stephen King is rusty- the sleeping people are safe," Leigh says, stretching her arms above her head, then languidly pulling them back, hands fisted, back arched. She's not doing it to be alluring, but it is, very much so.
The seatbelt light goes off, and all three of them stand up to disembark, now that the ground crew is attaching the stairs. Leigh's strange, uncomfortable look is back, but Tony assumes it's flight related.
"I'm gonna drive back, got something to pick up for Leshia," Rhodey says.
"Miss, 'I'm not one for soldiers?'" Tony asks pleasantly.
Rhodey gives him a hard look. "That's the one."
"It was lovely meeting you," Leigh says, holding out her hand to shake Rhodes'. Rhodey takes it, shakes, then turns her hand to the side, looking at the cluster of bandaids on her wrist.
"Might want to get that looked at," he says, hiking an eyebrow at Tony.
"If you're looking for a soulmark, you're a few feet too high," Leigh tells Rhodey, pulling her hand free.
"Oh, I disregarded that one," he tells her, heading for the door. Rhodey turns around, nodding at the flight attendant who opens it for him. "It's not in Tony's handwriting." He nods at Tony and jogs down the stairs, out of sight.
"I like him," Leigh says.
"That's because I'm a good judge of character," Tony says.
At the bottom of the stairs, there are two cars, one of the black ones that Happy drives him around to events, and the new Tesla he hasn't gotten to drive yet. Tony tells Leigh he'll be right back, and he walks over to speak with the chauffeur. Hogan's away on a special assignment for much of the summer. The two people in the back seat roll down the window so he can see that, yep, they're passable. Tony pats the top of the car and jogs back to Leigh.
"Ready?" She nods. Tony doesn't end up doing the chivalrous thing, because the guy who brought the car opens the door for her and helps her in, but that's fine. He settles into his seat and starts adjusting things. "Comfortable?"
"Astonishingly so," Leigh says in an awed voice. "This is… really something."
"Yeah, I sprang for the Founder's edition. Though, I think Elon might have comped it if I'd pushed," Tony admits. He starts navigating the complicated process of driving a car out of a space designed for airplanes, grateful that Leigh doesn't resent not being his focus of attention.
When they're finally on an actual road, Tony looks over. Leigh looks stunned.
"Yeah, I was looking forward to this," he says, satisfied. The car was definitely worth the wait. "Handles just like I was hoping."
"Y-you didn't know?" Leigh questions, her voice a stutter of surprise.
"It's new. Was delivered last week, but I was busy," Tony explains, brows furrowing a little. "Teslas, there's no dealership."
"I think I knew that, but I never really thought about the specifics. What was in the other car? Things you'd brought back with you on the plane?" Leigh tells him, hovering her hand a quarter inch above the dashboard like she's petting a cat.
"No, that was the decoy."
"Is there a working-class-to-billionaire dictionary you could order for me, maybe?" she laughs. There's a brittle quality to it that makes him look over. Leigh's a little wild around the eyes, one hand firmly planted around her braid, as if she's holding on for dear life.
"The press is still camped out. I sent one of the cars I use for events, when I'm not driving. There's a blonde woman and a man with a goatee in the back."
"You had them on retainer?"
"You okay?" Tony asks, instead of answering her. If she weren't so on edge, he might have made a quip about her being a nervous passenger, but Leigh's natural fire and confidence seem to be significantly dimmed. They have been ever since the helicopter.
Leigh leans back and makes a little surprised face at how comfortable that action is. "Tony, don't take this the wrong way, but: I can't go home. I can't go to work. I'm in a different state than my driver's license or any property I own. I hate flying, but that's what I've been doing for the past two hours."
"Okay, okay," he says, laughing only because she's got a wry, 'can you believe this' expression on her face that seems to beg for a sympathetic reaction. "Well, that's why I did it this way. The press doesn't know this car. They'll be watching for the decoy, and we'll sneak in, hop on the private elevator, and get you into your new apartment."
"Private elevator?" Leigh asks, like she's not sure if he's finally started to make shit up.
"Is it going to freak you out if I tell you I built the entire tower? Or that I live in the penthouse?" he teases, reaching out and tugging on her braid.
She shakes her head, chagrined. "Those I knew. Though, I'm probably not picturing it properly."
Tony thinks about the landing platform on the upper level, the curved walkway designed to take off his suit without forcing him to slow down at all, the spectacular view. "That's a given."
"Honestly, today, I don't need much. Coffee and a bed, that's about it," she sighs, turning her head to look out the window. "Oh, stars, I forgot where I was," Leigh breathes, now stunned for a completely different reason. The curve of her neck is gorgeous, Tony thinks, thinking back to their kiss. There's so much he wants to show her, so much he wants to do with her. Some of those things are even unrelated to the constant, low-level desire to touch her again that he's had since the helicopter.
"Wait till you see the view from your apartment," Tony tells her.
"Wait! I thought it was going to be on the ground floor, like my old one," Leigh protests. He believes her for three whole seconds before she turns her head and he can see the impish twinkle in her eyes.