Chapter Fourteen
"Here's the thing," Leigh says, looking doubtfully at Natasha Romanoff's motorcycle. "It's not that I'm scared of the bike, it's that I'm scared of you and the bike is just along for the ride."
"I can respect that. Now, get on."
"Where are we going?" Leigh asks, resigned.
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Natasha (she practically orders Leigh to call her by her first name, but honestly, asking nicely would have been enough) takes her to a truly superb diner at the edge of the city. The questions she needs to ask Leigh have to do with the tower, the security there, the staff, and Leigh's own habits when she does go out. Leigh gets the impression that Natasha is thorough, dedicated, and angry.
"None of this is your fault. I think he's gotten into the habit of thinking that since the number of people who want a piece of him has been reduced by half, it makes him safer. Maybe it did, at first," Natasha says, gesturing with a french fry. "But the other factors- reduced security across the board, more resources, mental instability… it makes Tony, and by extension, you, less safe."
"So basically you got my email and did a research project?" Leigh asks, grinning.
Natasha does a little shrug and then her lips curve into a smile. "Basically."
"Well, I hope it comes with an essay page or a bibliography to hand over to Tony, because I'm not going to be able to explain this very well, and that's without the baggage of who'd be passing it along. I mean, whether or not it's true, no one wants to say to their loved one, 'Hey, you aren't protecting me.'"
Even the way Natasha Romanoff chews is beautiful, Leigh can't help but notice. "Oh don't worry," Natasha says blithely after swallowing a handful of fries. "You won't have to."
Something about the way she looks almost gleeful makes Leigh want to check her phone. When she pulls it out, though, she doesn't even get to see the screen before it's snatched from her fingers and tucked into Natasha's jacket (possibly inside her shirt, but she was so fast Leigh couldn't tell).
"What just happened?" Leigh asks a bit plaintively.
"Don't worry about it. You'll get it back later. Mind if a friend drops by?"
Leigh takes a sip of her milkshake. "Do I have a choice?"
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A half hour of talking about Leigh's childhood on the farm passes before the aforementioned guest shows up.
"So she does go out to enjoy herself sometimes," Steve Rogers says from somewhere behind their booth.
"Hey, Cap," Natasha says. Leigh can tell right away that the two of them have a close friendship. There had been a small edge to Natasha's demeanor since they got to the diner, and now, just like that, it's gone.
Then again, the woman has a reputation as a superspy, so it's very possible she's engineered the situation to make Leigh trust the two of them. Either way, it's working.
"Miss Balci," Rogers says, nodding.
"Ooh," Natasha says, holding a hand to where she tucked Leigh's phone. " Another message! And, 'Miss Balci,' really? Sit down, Steve."
"Any particular reason you called me down here?" Rogers asks, pulling over a chair to sit at the end of the booth. He's on Natasha's side, both literally and figuratively. Leigh is kind of fascinated and intimidated by their dynamic.
"Nothing in particular, besides Justin Hammer's brother in law trying to kidnap Leigh to lure Tony down to a shitty brownstone in Bed-Stuy."
"You're kidding." Rogers' tone is instantly low and angry.
"What time is it, by the way? I texted work saying the guy's a fraud, but that was about all I had time for," Leigh finally gets the chance to cut in. It's not like she has any kind of curfew, of course, but she did tell Tony where she was going, and that was two hours ago. "At this point, Tony's probably asking his AI where I am."
"He'd better be," Natasha says, shoving the remnants of her french fry boat towards Captain America.
"Natasha," he says, his tone halfway between a warning and a question.
Leigh sits up, realizing that her right shoulder hurts quite a lot, actually. "Okay, I recognize that the two of you have a ton of expertise in just about everything I do not, so I can't back this up with anything, but: if there's more to this than an extension of what I asked about in my email, Ms. Romanoff, I'd like to know that now."
Right as she seems to be about to answer, Natasha fishes out the phone she stole from Leigh and frowns at it before putting it back into her bra. "We should sit outside."
"If you were me, you'd take that as a 'yes,' wouldn't you, Mr.- uh, Cap?" Leigh asks Rogers. Even though they have the same wholesome vibe, it's just too weird to call him Mr. Rogers.
"I would."
"'Well, you'll have to wait and see." Instead of asking Rogers to move, Natasha just steps up onto the booth seat, shakes the tall back of the booth a second as if testing its strength, and then does an acrobatic move to hop over him. She goes over to the register to pay as if she hadn't just done something really cool.
"You really can call me Steve," Rogers says, standing up and pulling out money for a tip.
"Oh, let me do that, you barely ate anything!" Leigh protests. She angles her right hand down into the pocket of her skirt for her wallet and gasps. Immediately, Rogers is at her side, concerned.
"You're injured?"
"Hit the wall shoulder first when that Hammer guy attacked me. All the adrenaline from 'will I have to shoot this guy' and 'oh hey look, super assassin' kind of pushed that to the background."
"Let's get some fresh air, I'll take a look," Natasha says, coming over. Rogers helps Leigh up, and as they walk out to the sketchy-looking outdoor tables taking up the plot between their diner and a convenience store, Leigh tries to reach for her wallet again.
"Shit, okay, that's… definitely not good."
Natasha sits her down at one of the tables farthest from either building and sits behind her, setting down a glass of ice. "Well, given that this shirt buttons up the back, it's a good idea to see what's going on in there either way. I can't imagine how you'll possibly get out of it tonight otherwise."
Leigh can't see her, but the high level amused innuendo in her tone practically shimmers in the air beside them. After about two buttons, the constant low-level tugging pain lessens. After four buttons, Natasha folds the fabric back and immediately hisses in sympathy.
"Bad?" Rogers asks. He's seated at the other side of their round table, facing away.
"I wouldn't wear evening gowns for a few weeks, in this condition," Natasha says. She unzips something behind Leigh and grabs the glass she'd set down earlier.
"I don't know, if it's black and blue I could get a galaxy print," Leigh tells her.
"Company," Rogers says, suddenly.
"Hold still, okay?" Natasha says, when Leigh tries to look around at the road to see who is pulling up. "Here," she adds, and Leigh feels a cool, soft pressure on her shoulder. "Field dressing of sorts." Natasha secures the cold compress in place with some kind of stretchy wide fabric, finishing up right before Iron Man lands with a loud thump on the concrete beside their table.
Leigh's never seen him in the suit up close, only in videos, and never when she had feelings for him. The arc reactor is heart shaped. She has no idea whether he's done that for her (her practical mind rejects this immediately) or if it had been like that before.
As soon as he lands, Tony taps the glowing heart on his chest, and his suit seems to particulate and retract. Underneath it, he's wearing his typical 'lab' clothes, scruffy and casual, but his expression isn't casual. Tony looks harried and on edge.
"Stepping out on me?" he says to Leigh, upset but still able to joke, which she's grateful for. "Had me worried." He traces his eyes over her, catching the odd shape of her shoulder right away, starting to walk over.
"Not worried enough, seems like," Natasha says, getting up from behind Leigh. "What are you thinking, not giving her some kind of a panic button? Did you forget your reputation?"
"Nice to see you too, Nat," Tony says, pausing to look at her, then at Rogers. "Steve."
"Tony," Rogers says in the same dry, polite voice.
"Maybe I can get a cab, this is seriously uncomfortable," Leigh says, standing up and turning to step out of the wide bench seat attached to the table. Her shoulder protests painfully, and she stops, her left hand flying to clutch it. "Right, right. Forgot about that."
Natasha had braced herself to catch Leigh if she fell, but Tony shoulders her out of the way as if she's not even there.
"What happened?" he demands. In an apparent extension of the night before, Tony slides down his left hand to link with hers, as if they're not in public, as if he's not upset, as if she's not there with people from his past that he has a lot of baggage regarding.
"I-" Leigh tries to think of how best to explain.
"She hit the wall, literally, after being jerked around by Justin Hammer's brother-in-law," Natasha says harshly. "Who was looking for you."
"I'm sorry," Leigh offers, and all three of the Avengers object, with varying levels of vehemence. It's a bit much, and the cold pack is nice, but her shoulder hurts, so Leigh responds like a mature, adult woman and buries her head on Tony's chest. His free arm bands against her back, as if he meant it to be comforting, but it's shaking.
"Are you okay?" Leigh whispers to Tony. His chest contracts, and the sound he makes comes out as a choked laugh, but it doesn't feel that way to Leigh, crushed as she is against his chest.
"Where is he now?" Tony asks. He sounds furious, his voice without any inflection other than pure rage .
She'd been clutching his shirt fabric with her left hand, but now Leigh slides it to the center of his chest and presses her hand there, as if she could fill up the spaces currently occupied by anger with her comfort, instead. She doesn't move that hand, not to caress, not to ease the strange angle she's holding it to, as the seconds count by.
"He's in custody," Natasha says.
"Was it bad?" Tony's voice has a catch in it that makes Leigh shift against him to kiss him where she'd been resting her cheek.
"Decent chance Leigh was going to take him down if I hadn't shown up."
Tony's body goes completely rigid, at that.
"Don't. I carry a gun because I want to, because I'm ready to use it in exactly that kind of situation," Leigh says, pulling back from him so she can see his face. As she moves the hand on his chest, he looks down and smiles at it, making her heart do a ridiculous little swoop to see it.
Tony had opened his arms readily, but keeps her right hand clasped in his. The size differential between them means that her knuckles are starting to ache a little, but Leigh's coming to accept that this is part of loving Tony- sometimes that process is going to cause some pain. Still worth it, though.
Ever the peacemaker, Rogers speaks up. "It's good to see you, Tony, even if the circumstances aren't great. Thanks for the donation. It means a lot." He comes over to stand near them, and Leigh notices something.
"You're almost the same height!" she says, looking back and forth between the two men. "I totally thought Steve was taller."
She hadn't meant to call him that, but the strangest thing happens when she does: where he's holding her, Tony's thumb brushes a caress across her hand.
"It's the shoulders," Tony says, using his casual joking voice. "He's built like a cartoon come to life. It's an impossible beauty standard, I'm surprised no one's started protesting." He nods at Steve. "You're welcome."
Holding her arm in the same position for so long is starting to create a new ache in her shoulder, so reluctantly, Leigh tugs her right hand free. "Positional pain," she explains with an apologetic smile. Tony nods, then moves behind her to gingerly lift up the field dressing-style treatment Natasha placed on Leigh's shoulder.
"Can't imagine why, given what kinds of colors it's turning." He presses close behind her on Leigh's left side and just blatantly smells her hair, as if it's the only thing that will soothe him. "You're right," he says, presumably to Natasha. "Thanks for being there."
"Well, now that I have sort of a project going, I might need to stay in touch," Natasha says. There's a sweet kind of vulnerability to her words, which she seems to try to lessen by the way she moves her head as she speaks, the studied, teasingly casual tone she's using.
Tony lets out a breath. When he speaks, it's vulnerable too, but in his cocky, flippant way, instead. "That seems reasonable. Hey, Steve?"
"Yeah?"
"Let me know if you need anything else for that charity."
Steve looks down; his bashful smile is brief. When he looks up again, he's clear-eyed and grateful. "I will."
Leigh can tell that both Steve and Natasha are privately pleased about something, and she turns her head carefully to peek at Tony. He's smiling.
"Did I miss something just now?" Leigh says. It couldn't be that easy, could it?
"Okay, now it's ringing," Natasha says, pulling Leigh's phone out of her bra. Instead of handing it over immediately, she looks at it for a few seconds in surprise first. "You got in touch with Bruce?"
"Yeah, is that him calling? He's in town for a few days," Leigh says, taking it. "Hello?"
"Hey, Doctor Banner here touching base," he says. "Bit late for dinner, want to try again tomorrow?" Leigh reaches down for Tony's arm and checks the time on his watch. 7:34. Dr. Banner apparently lives on country time- dinner in the city tends to be late, Leigh's come to realize.
"Yeah, that would be perfect, thank you. Want me to call around, what? Five? Five thirty?"
"Yeah, great. Have a good evening, then." Banner hangs up without an actual goodbye.
Leigh tucks her phone into her left skirt pocket and then realizes that Tony, Steve (Steve! She can't imagine she'll ever get used to that, but she's trying), and Natasha (it's easier to be on a first name basis when your life depends on it) are staring at her.
"What?"
"What did you do to get Banner to open up so fast?" Steve asks.
"'Open up!' What, dinner?" Leigh's only half kidding with her casual incredulity there. She'd got the impression from Rhodes that what had happened on Sunday morning last week was very unusual.
"We're a little confused because the first time I met the guy, I had to bribe someone to bring him to me, and I took thirty of my closest armed and armored friends with me just in case he didn't like what I had to say," Natasha says sardonically. "What did you offer?"
"I offered to show him my soulmark," Leigh says truthfully. Natasha's response to that is… interesting, to say the least. She looks both amused and regretful, and she shrugs her left shoulder as if it has started to sting.
"Ah, well," she finally responds, as if Leigh's answer has put paid to her hopes of following her lead.
"You don't have one either?" Steve asks Natasha, gently.
Her grin is bright, almost too bright. "I didn't say that."
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Steve and Natasha had refused to allow Tony to even think about taking her back to the tower in his suit, so Leigh had gone with Steve in his car. Natasha and Steve had then spent a good eight minutes bantering back and forth about why he's in a car over his motorcycle today, and whether there's any point in a supersoldier wearing a helmet. Leigh had enjoyed watching their banter, especially as she was slowly coming to understand what it was that Tony had given up on purpose, all those months ago.
Somehow, Tony is waiting in the elevator when she gets into the tower. He insists on taking her up to his penthouse for a shower, bribing her with the fact that he just got the bathroom remodeled. Leigh's very grateful for his help unbuttoning her blouse, even if it does mean that Natasha will look smug the next time they see each other.
"Honestly, I just want to curl up in bed, you don't need to-"
"You think you know better than me when it comes to blunt force trauma? Get in the shower," Tony interrupts.
Leigh secretly loves when he gets bossy.
(She's only going to let him know about liking it in bed, though.)
Tony's shower is the kind of thing people design for rich apartments in movies, Leigh thinks. It's large, square, and as far as she can see, has two modes- rain, and pedestrian. If she wasn't so tired and beat up after the day she's had, she might consider making a joke about it. As it is, though, Leigh steps into the shower on rain mode and just basks in the heat.
There's only one problem.
"Tony?"
He comes through the open door to his bathroom so quickly that Leigh's sure he'd been standing there hoping. The only reason she can see him is because, while the glass walls of his lavish shower room (it's a room. It's big enough to be a room in any other building, and just because it's a room inside another room in Tony's tower doesn't mean it's any less room-like, Leigh decides) have fogged up, she'd left the door open, giving her a glimpse into the rest of the huge bathroom. So when he comes to see what she wants, Tony's framed by the fogged glass except for the rich colors of his bathroom tile.
"I can't get my hair wet with only one arm," Leigh tells him. The funny part is, it's the truth- her arm would get tired and then sore, and she'd have two sore arms, without his help.
"I live to serve," he declares, but then walks right into the shower fully dressed.
"Tony! You had better not have any electronics on you right now!" Leigh protests. He hadn't been wearing the ARC reactor when he met her in the elevator, but she supposes that it kind of has to be waterproof, or Iron Man would have a rather obvious weakness.
"You and your ridiculous hang-ups," he tuts, pulling down one of the shower heads from above them and using it to wet her hair. "There," he says, but though he allows the sprayer to slot back up into place, he doesn't actually stop stroking his hands through her hair.
"It's helping a lot, the heat, I mean. So you were right, and thank you," she says, turning around to look at him. Her mouth goes dry.
Tony's in the process of running a hand through his hair when she sees him, and it's a professional porn movie quality image, right there. His feet are soaked, his jeans wet in large sections at the front, and his shirt is completely soaked, clinging to his muscles lovingly.
"You look like a sea nymph or something, with your long hair and rosy nipples," Tony says. He closes his eyes right away, scrunching up his face. "You're injured, and I'm-"
"Incredibly sexy standing there all wet like that," Leigh says bravely. "I think what I need for optimum shoulder healing is to watch you take that shirt off."
She can't believe she actually said it!
"For… healing," Tony asserts, a speculative look on his face. "I could probably do that."
Leigh watches as Tony does just what she was hoping he'd do, reaching up with both hands to pull the shirt off of his back first, revealing his biceps as the sodden shirt slides down. The glimpse of his toned stomach beforehand has her leaning back on the wet wall of the shower to support her legs. By the time Tony has the shirt off, she's biting her lip, because now the steady scatter of water droplets are going to work on the denim of his jeans, which are slung low on his hips by now.
Leigh wants, and the thing is, she can have, but she's still caught up in the newness of it all, so she covers her face as she says, "This is- I'm physically drained, honestly, but I sure would love to touch you."
Tony's quiet, and she lowers her hands (because peeking is just not sexy) . His eyes are dark, intense, and full of a really powerful kind of joy.
"Leigh, I… First of all, yes. YES." He starts toward her, and she can't get over how much she likes this image of his feet with the wet denim framing them. "The shower is where I saw your words for the first time. If you're asking to-" he falters.
"Wash away that memory? I can't promise that, but if it doesn't work, we can always just try again," Leigh says, pushing off from the wall with just her left hand. Somehow her nakedness doesn't leave her feeling as exposed as she thought it might, though some of that could be her wet hair draped across her shoulders and chest.
She reaches out toward the waistband of his pants, feeling like some braver, sexier version of herself. Tony sucks in a breath and then rests a hand on both of hers.
"I need to-" He backs up toward the back wall of the shower, tugging her with him. When he's close enough, Tony puts his left hand palm flat on the tile, and the thin film of warm water that flows down it cascades around his hand. It's a gorgeous image, like something out of a fancy magazine article, but then again, Tony is like that, all of him, she thinks. "Do you want me to keep my hands to myself?"
"No," Leigh asserts. A squirmy, unsettled feeling rises in her and she shoves it down. "You touch what you want, but if you distract me, I'm not responsible for any hitches in rhythm."
Her face flames, but Leigh's tired, affectionate, and really into him, right now.
"Holy shit, okay," Tony mutters.
"I might be considering this my revenge against that guy trying to throw me around in a criminally abandoned house earlier," she confesses, reaching for his waistband again. The wet denim is tough to unbutton, but she manages.
"'Criminally abandoned?'" Tony asks, clearly amused.
"Those brownstones are historically relevant and letting them fall into that level of disrepair is a discredit to anyone who cares about good design," she grouses, sliding down his zipper.
"Things I did not expect to love together: rants about architecture, and a sinfully gorgeous woman undressing me," Tony says, hoarsely.
Leigh steps closer to him so she can reach down his body more easily, but her mind is caught repeating the compliment on some kind of encouragement loop. "Yes, well." She slides his jeans down. "We all have our quirks."
Tony's boxer briefs aren't completely soaked, but they're wet enough and therefore tight to his skin enough that she can't pull them down one-handed in good conscience.
"Can you-"
Tony steps to the side and strips off both jeans and boxer briefs with an alacrity that is truly impressive. More impressive is the way he keeps his eyes fixed on hers for those actions, as if he's hungry for the look in her eyes as she sees his fully naked body for the first time.
"Somewhere there are drawings on some artist woman's sketchbook of you, I guarantee it," Leigh says softly. "I'm not even jealous, you're-" she can't say it, it's ridiculous, but Tony's expression tells her he got the message, paused as he is with one hand clenched into a fist at his side, the other holding his wet clothes in preparation for throwing them aside. A work of art, Leigh finishes in her head. It still makes her blush, just to think it. "C'mere?"
He tosses the clothes and moves toward her, fully erect, unashamed. It is, as he once said to her, painfully hot.
Leigh reaches up and touches his face first. "Only one hand today, sorry," she says, and then Tony does the thing he'd done at the diner. Leaning back against the wall of the shower, he reaches over and twines their fingers together, his left to her right. She smiles, leans over to kiss his chest, and Tony gasps, actually gasps.
"Your hair," he whispers. Leigh looks down and her wet hair has cascaded around his cock. Tony bucks his hips. "Not asking for this, not today, not with an injured shoulder," he tells her, the words almost a chant, The streak of desire in his tone is broad.
"Someday," she promises, and uses her left hand to pull her hair back over her injured shoulder. Its wetness and weight acts like a kind of warm compress. There are quite a few somedays she can see potential for, right now, truth be told.
Leigh squeezes their joined hands and looks away from the warm anticipation in Tony's eyes down to his cock. She reaches down to grasp him at the root, not rough but not gently, wanting the shock of it, loving the hitched gasp from his reaction. Gathering some of the precome that's already waiting at the tip, she looks up at Tony's face, and sees that he's closed his eyes. Leigh sets a rhythm based on the squeeze and tremble of his hand in hers, the rock of his hips, and the vehemence of his swear words.
She's pretty damned turned on, but it's fueling her, rather than making her desperate. Tony's getting close, she can tell by the way he's stopped caring about the way the flood of water from the wall pulses against his hair where he's thrown his head back.
Tony's talking but she can't quite understand him, doesn't know what kind of praise or condemnation he's calling for, but the intonation is tuned to pleasure, and that's enough for her. She wonders if it's like this for him working on his suits- he can tell what they need, where they tremble and require support, where they are flooded with energy and want a steady hand. Leigh wants to learn Tony like that, not just here, not just sexually, but all of him.
The thought makes her speed up, adding an urgency to her movements. Tony responds right away, chasing her with his hips, rocking their joined hands along with her movements. Then he's coming, a cry of pleasure that could be her name drawn from his throat. Leigh gentles her hand until she feels like she can stop without stealing any of his pleasure.
He pulls her to him and presses a weak kiss to her hairline. It makes her feel powerful.
"Fuck, that was quite an understatement," Tony says. A sort of delighted shudder goes through him, and he closes his eyes for a few seconds.
Leigh laughs out a, "What?"
"'I would love to touch you,'" he quotes back, dragging her to follow him out of the shower. He hits the controls that turn it off and pulls a few towels out of an actual towel warmer.
"I did. I do!" she protests, as he starts to dry her off. Embarrassingly, she's gripped by a huge yawn almost as soon as he's finished wrapping her in what she's pretty sure is his bathrobe.
"I owe you a verbal run-down, and then a physical run-down of just how much I liked that, but I think we're both very tired." He looks down at her. "Thank you for that. How's that for an understatement?" Tony says. "Stay?"
"I'd love to."
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Tony's gone when she wakes up, but he had persuaded her to take some painkillers the night before, and she'd slept in. What surprises her is that, instead of leaving a note, Tony's left a pile of clothing on a chair at the end of the bed. It's made up of things she doesn't need to move her right arm much to put on, including the only other bra she owns with a front closure.
Leigh decides he did a decent job, once she's got it all on. She's wearing a white blouse with purple embroidery on the sleeves, a lavender skirt with darker purple detailing, and a pair of cute white lacy slip-on shoes. The breezy handkerchief hem of the skirt makes up for the slightly longer sleeves of the shirt (which she wouldn't choose to wear in early August, but that's to be forgiven).
Her phone rings from Tony's nightstand, and Leigh's swept away by that image for a few seconds before she picks it up.
"Hello, Bruce Banner here, calling a bit early."
"Oh, hello, what can I help you with?"
"A restaurant was recommended to me as a great lunch option, but since it's a bit fancy, I thought maybe we could move up our chat?"
"That's a practical choice I can get behind, Dr. Banner," Leigh decides on the spot.
"You're at the tower? I could swing the taxi by to pick you up. Half hour too early?"
"Nope, that's fine," Leigh tells him. She'll have to get some painkillers to bring with her, but that's about it for preparation.
"Great. See you in about 25 to 40, depending on how much I look like I can afford a taxi outside this hotel they've got me staying at. Bye."
Leigh smiles, gathers up her things, and texts Tony.
Leigh: Bet you'd have picked something uglier than this if you knew you were dressing me up to see your friend
Leigh: I hope purple isn't his favorite color. He's moving the chat up to lunch
Tony: I'm sorry, were you trying to get me jealous? I can't hear you over the sound of your hand on me in the shower.
Leigh: I wasn't, actually, just trying to be more interesting than 'going to head out for lunch, thanks for picking out an outfit'
Tony: Protip: next time do that with pictures of you putting on the outfit
Leigh takes the elevator down to the lobby, but she still has fifteen minutes to wait, so she texts Tony again.
Leigh: This isn't too fast, is it? I didn't expect both Rogers and Romanoff to kidnap me to a diner, yesterday.
Tony: It's fine.
Tony: I've been thinking about it. We're not all living together, I don't have to take orders from them, we won't be up each other's ass like we were before
Tony: ...here's where you make a joke about being up America's Ass
Leigh: The first rule of Fuck Club is You Don't Talk About Fuck Club, Tony. You should know that!
Tony: I
Tony: I should probably tell you I make FRIDAY read out your texts when I'm welding
When Banner pulls up, Leigh's still laughing, but she can't bring herself to explain why.
Note: So I don't intend to have an intense sex scene in every chapter, but this one presented itself and demanded to be written. I will say right now I have the intention of writing a one-shot fic of Tony's PoV during that scene at some point in the near future.