So, I've decided that, since I wrote this story with barely a hint of a plotline in mind, it will be marked COMPLETE. Because technically it is, but I'll probably return to this when I feel like writing about our favorite egotistical playboy philanthropist again. OR, y'all could comment a plotline I could use for a oneshot! :D

But yes, in the meantime, so long and goodbye.

Rich Asshole Meets Pizza Delivery Girl

Joe's Pizza was first established in 1975 by an Italian dude named Joe Pozzuoli. There were only three establishments to be found in the entire world: at the corner of Bleecker and Carmine street, 150 East 14th Street, and 216 Bedford Avenue. Joe, though old as all hell, still operates the whole business.

The pizzeria was labeled as "Best of New York" and listed as one of the "Best 25 Pizzas on Earth". But though it was the quintessential New York slice, there were still complaints on the service and the employees.

To put in simpler words: the pizza was great, but the people were shit.

I tried to be above and beyond everyone else. Eventually, the customers had to realize that getting to eat good pizza wasn't worth being treated with disrespect. Unfortunately, there was very little I could do to uphold the actual reputation of the restaurant, because technically I wasn't a part of said restaurant. I was just a delivery girl. Once, the manager had tried to get me onto the cashier, but that had ended with a very long line of unsatisfied and hungry customers. We had all agreed to just let me stick to delivering the pizzas.

Some people think that the delivery business is as easy as pie. In some situations, it probably is. But delivering pizzas in New York? It was like trying to get past a stampede of cattle. And with all the honking and the cutting, and the cab drivers yelling, "What are you doin'?" in their typical NYC accent, it was pretty hard to keep up the good vibes until the pizza was dropped off.

Then there was the problem with the people who complained about you being "late" when you had promised to have the pizza delivered by 5pm and you were in fact just that good of a buzzer beater. It was those times when it became particularly difficult to maintain the smiling facade and polite tone that I could, miraculously, conjure up.

I was on my way to deliver a box of fresh mozzarella pie, just cruising through traffic lines, when this goddamned motherfucker cut in front of me (FROM BEING PARKED BY THE SIDEWALK) and took my place in the line just as the light turned red.

Before he crossed the intersection, I managed to land a light tap on his fancy ass hood. "Nice job, asshole!" Rich asshole. I'd bet a hundred dollars that he was one of those types who sat on someone else's shoulders and called themselves tall.

When the light turned green again, I raced past the intersection. I had approximately five more minutes before my time was up and before the customer would be well and justly angry.

As I was turning down E 14th street, I caught sight of the familiar shiny, black, rich person's car that had cut me off. Sneering behind my helmet, I put my motor into high gear and zipped up from behind the limo. I was fucking close to knocking the guy's side mirror out, but I swerved just enough to miss, and before long I was in front of him again. I took a second to flip him The Finger over my shoulder before getting back on track.

The pizza wasn't going to deliver itself.

Tony was not having a good day.

He hadn't gotten any sleep the previous night. And while he was content with just staying in his lab and tinkering with a few experimental modifications on his suits, he had been forced to take a shower and get changed for a meeting with Fury. (Pepper had to practically drag him out of the room, telling JARVIS to keep the doors locked until he came back from said meeting.)

It had been a month since Loki's army had nearly destroyed New York. The city was being restored, the people were moving on with their lives, and Fury was trying his darnest to keep another catastrophe off their hands. He had conducted the meeting with Tony to discuss preparations, should another evil megalomaniac appear out of nowhere and try to take over the world. To Tony's dismay, Fury had suggested that he convert the Tower into a dorm of sorts. (Fury had phrased it as "living quarters" but Tony caught on pretty quickly.)

A dorm.

For the Avengers.

Tony was forced to agree to the proposition. He didn't like the idea, but it was a good idea. The Tower would be in close proximity to the Helicarrier, so SHIELD would be able to easily contact them should something go wrong. They would have a bunch of Stark Tech at their disposal, transportation-wise or weapon-wise.

It was a good idea.

But that meant that Tony would actually have to LIVE with people. Pepper had gotten used to his habits – eat, go into the lab and tinker, eat, sleep; she was always busy as well. The Avengers wouldn't understand like she did. They were going to be nosy and impatient. They were going to want to know about the nightmares.

... But he supposed that they could be good fun too. There was definitely the possibility of late night movie marathons, with the cinema smelling of butter popcorn after years of being uninhabited. The gym would finally get some noise in it. Tony would actually have to stock up the pantry every few weeks, because God knows that Steve ate like a fucking bull. So did those SHIELD assassins.

Oh shit.

Tony was going to have to live with Romanoff's bossy ass.

He was so busy sulking over preparations and the possible floor renovations that he barely noticed that they had entered Manhattan's East Village, a place he liked to call Hippie Street. Riots were going on most of the time, but Tony remembered when he had entered one of East Village's night clubs. Met a girl. Had some awesome sex.

He also remembered a girl, a different one from a different time, with a mop of blond hair and tawny hazel eyes. She worked at Joe's Pizza – or at least that was what he assumed when he saw her wearing the employee's shirt and pants.

She could also fly.

Which was why Tony could barely believe his eyes when, as they were passing through East Village, he noticed the very same girl, with the very same mop of blond hair, standing on the doorstep of one of the buildings lining the street. She had a helmet tucked into her side, and she was wearing a different shirt, but Tony was more than sure that it was her.

"Stop the car."

Happy did so immediately. As soon as they had stopped moving, Tony got out of the car and was striding across the street, not caring how it had just rained and how his shoes probably cost a couple thousand dollars. Happy was calling for him to wait up, but Tony was already so close.

He deducted that the girl was making a delivery. She had just handed over a box of pizza to a grim-faced old woman, who had promptly shut the door on her face, when Tony reached her. She turned around and he stood stock-still, watching the way her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open in surprise. "Shit," he heard her mutter.

"You're the one who saved me," he said, still a bit astonished that he had found her without even having to try. "After the Battle."

She stared at him for a moment more before her attention moved to the side, taking in Happy's wide figure behind him before flicking over to the car. Her eyes narrowed. "And you're the asshole who cut me off in the street."

"Well, to be fair, I wasn't driving. It was my bodyguard, Happy."

"Your bodyguard's name is Happy?"

Said bodyguard suddenly spoke up from behind Tony. "Right here, miss," he said, polite as ever. "And Mr. Stark was the one who gave me that nickname. My real name is Harold."

Her eyebrow went up. "I think I'll stick with Happy."

"You want to come with me back to Stark Tower?" Tony interrupted, eager to get things back on track. People were starting to take notice of his presence, and he didn't want to make a scene – at least, not with her in the middle of it. "Have a few drinks, maybe play some ping pong, and then you tell me more about your powers. What's your name by the way?"

She brushed past him, and Tony didn't miss the way her perfume smelled like a strange mix of ginger and vanilla. Simple. Comforting. He turned and saw that she had already mounted her rented motorcycle. She started the engine, and Tony quickly moved to stand in front of the vehicle to keep her from driving away.

A groan escaped her lips. "What do you want?"

"Let me take you back to the Tower," he said. "Please?" Shit, he did not say that often.

"Why?"

He blinked. "You saved my life. I want to know more about you."

"What, so you can relay all the shit I tell you to Fury?"

"He knows everything he needs to know about you. He doesn't care that you used your powers in the Battle – I confirmed that with him."

"You confirmed with him?"

Geez, she really does not like Fury. "I swear that you won't find any trouble at the Tower. Honestly, I just want to talk." Pepper would kill him if he tried to sleep with her anyway.

"Look, dude, I have a job. I've got pizzas to deliver and I need the money."

"I'll give you three grand if you just come with me."

Her eyes flashed. "I'm not taking your money!"

"Why not?"

"Because!"

"Oh my God, I am not having this conversation right now." He ran a hand over his face to gather his bearings. "Fine! Here, you work at Joe's, right? The one down Bleecker and Carmine? I'll give the manager a call, tell him to excuse you for the rest of the day, maybe even give you a raise. Now will you please just fucking come with me to the Tower?"

A deal like that would have made anyone else heartily agree. Hell, even the question of being invited to Stark Tower for free would have made other women's knees quiver in excitement. But even after hearing about a raise and Tony putting in a good word for her, she still looked reluctant. He wasn't sure whether she despised him or whether she just really wanted to deliver those pizzas.

Finally, after a minute of silence, she said, "Do we convoy?"

"No, get in the car."

She looked appalled. "What about my ride?"

Tony thought for a moment before turning to his bodyguard. "Happy, you don't mind driving it back to Joe's, do you?"

Tony was sure that he did mind, but the only sign of Happy's irritation was a brief twitch of his eye. "No, sir."

"I'll be sure to have called the manager before you get there."

Hesitantly, the girl threw Happy the keys to the motorcycle, and Tony quickly ushered her into his car's passenger seat, getting his keys from Happy as they went. He got into the driver's seat, started the car, and began cruising them back to Stark Tower. For some reason, Tony felt nervous. His hands were clammy, and he found that his eyes kept darting to the side. He was offered a bit of relief when he saw that she seemed just as tense as he was.

"Is there any particular reason why you want me to drive back with you to Stark Tower?" she asked, breaking the silence.

"I don't know your name."

She looked at him weirdly. "You could just ask me."

He just shrugged. If he were to be honest with himself, he didn't know why he was so hell-bent on taking her back with him, either. Maybe it was because she had saved his life. He wanted to know more about her, more than just what Fury had in his files (which Tony hadn't even seen yet.) Yeah, he thought to himself. That's probably it.

And yet, on their way back to the Tower, he still didn't ask for her name.

P.S. I don't own Joe's Pizza, nor do I know if their service is shite or not. Just putting that out there.

P.P.S. You can give my OC whatever name you want in the meantime, but take note that I DO have a name for her. I'll probably mention it in the next chapter... whenever I decide to put up a next chapter, that is.