Tag Archives: phone tag

Phone Tag (@ Summer)

gadgeteerphilanthropist:

iamthefirechild:

“Do I have a choice about listening? No, skip that.” Summer rolled her lips together, considering Tony’s body and the thing that wore it like a suit.

Like Tony wore his suit.

She flinched away from that thought. “What do you want? To give him back? What do I have to do?”

All gods save her from this temptation … 

He scoffed, jet eyes rolling towards the ceiling for a moment.  “Please.  That offer isn’t on the table.  After all, I had grown so tired of my worn out wardrobe.  This new outfit is so refreshing, and so well tailored.”

He leaned down towards her again, lips ghosting past her ear.  “I can taste what it is you seek, and I can give it to you.  And I ask so little.”  He leaned back enough to look at her properly.

“Ten years.  I will give you that.  Ten years with perfect control,” he stroked the backs of his fingers along her cheek, “and more than just a pretty face.  No more headaches, no more having to fight to keep the clamor out, no more being the puppet to the moods of those around you, no more what ifs and doubts whenever you see yourself in the mirror.  Ten years with that?  It could be a life time.”  He grinned.  “And maybe I’ll even move on, to a new host somewhere else, since this city holds so few job opportunities for me.”

“Ten years ago I’d have taken you up on that offer,” Summer said slowly. “And I’d be dead now, wouldn’t I. I know now how fast that time can fly.” She held still, looking up at what used to be Tony, offering her the fulfillment of her secret desires.

She kept talking, working through it. “‘No more what ifs and doubts,’ you say, but that runs deeper than just the way I look. The root of it is what I think of myself, and you didn’t offer to change that. I wouldn’t take it if you did. It wouldn’t be real; I /have/ to solve that for myself.”

She rubbed the back of her fingers against her mouth thoughtfully. “Actually, I nearly think you have, not even meaning to. If … whatever you are, with no reason whatsoever to flatter me, says ‘pretty,’ I have to believe it, don’t I? You’ve given me something without even meaning to.”

Phone Tag (@ Summer)

gadgeteerphilanthropist:

iamthefirechild:

gadgeteerphilanthropist:

iamthefirechild:

Summer sighed, folding her arms. “I have to admit, I was hoping that when you had something to say to me next it would be a little more …” she flicked a hand, looking for a word, “informative than ‘kinda miss you’. But apparently I’m a sucker and can’t stay away from you. And you’re being more than usually weird.”

Crossing the room, she dropped herself heavily into the sofa and looked at Tony upside down. “So. You missed me, kinda.”

“I’m usually weird?” he asked, with an exaggerated pout.  “You’re hardly the one to judge who’s normal, yeah?  I could be any Joe next to you.”  He grinned.  “But, yeah.  You’ve been missed.  More than you might expect.”

And then he was leaning over her, arms bracketing her to the couch, brown eyes bleeding to a mirrored black.  “No wonder you hunger for more control; more power.  You can’t even feel him right now.  He’s fighting; screaming.  It’s impossible to get this fucker to just go to sleep in here, and you can’t even taste his terror?  Here you are, spitting in his face just one more time, because your feelings were hurt.  Is it any wonder it takes my intervention to get him to just text you?”

“Wh-hat?” Summer flinched back from Tony, from the being who had … replaced Tony, shoving herself into the cushions. Away from those black eyes, framed in a loved face. “What are you?” Her voice shook. “T-tony?!” Heedless of the cost, she flung her senses wide open, finally noticing what she should have seen the moment … no, should have sensed hours ago.

“What have you done to Tony?!”

“Like I said, he’s still in here.”  His grin widened.  “You can feel him now, can’t you?  You know I speak the truth.  As for me?”  He laughed, cheerful and so like Tony on his increasingly rare good days, and leaned down closer to her face.  “I’m from the land down under.  A salesman, if you would.”  He finally stood, folding his arms across his chest, but still looking down at her as his tone softened.  “You could probably benefit from what I have to say.”

“Do I have a choice about listening? No, skip that.” Summer rolled her lips together, considering Tony’s body and the thing that wore it like a suit.

Like Tony wore his suit.

She flinched away from that thought. “What do you want? To give him back? What do I have to do?”

All gods save her from this temptation … 

Phone Tag (@ Summer)

gadgeteerphilanthropist:

iamthefirechild:

Summer sighed, folding her arms. “I have to admit, I was hoping that when you had something to say to me next it would be a little more …” she flicked a hand, looking for a word, “informative than ‘kinda miss you’. But apparently I’m a sucker and can’t stay away from you. And you’re being more than usually weird.”

Crossing the room, she dropped herself heavily into the sofa and looked at Tony upside down. “So. You missed me, kinda.”

“I’m usually weird?” he asked, with an exaggerated pout.  “You’re hardly the one to judge who’s normal, yeah?  I could be any Joe next to you.”  He grinned.  “But, yeah.  You’ve been missed.  More than you might expect.”

And then he was leaning over her, arms bracketing her to the couch, brown eyes bleeding to a mirrored black.  “No wonder you hunger for more control; more power.  You can’t even feel him right now.  He’s fighting; screaming.  It’s impossible to get this fucker to just go to sleep in here, and you can’t even taste his terror?  Here you are, spitting in his face just one more time, because your feelings were hurt.  Is it any wonder it takes my intervention to get him to just text you?”

“Wh-hat?” Summer flinched back from Tony, from the being who had … replaced Tony, shoving herself into the cushions. Away from those black eyes, framed in a loved face. “What are you?” Her voice shook. “T-tony?!” Heedless of the cost, she flung her senses wide open, finally noticing what she should have seen the moment … no, should have sensed hours ago.

“What have you done to Tony?!”

Phone Tag (@ Summer)

gadgeteerphilanthropist:

iamthefirechild:

She dropped onto the landing pad, half-consciously mirroring Tony’s favourite landing pose. Setting fingertips to the door, Summer squared her shoulders and steeled herself. ‘I’m annoyed with him,’ she reminded herself, before pushing the door open.

“Hey.”

“Afternoon,” he greeted, and then knocked back the last of his drink.  “Do please contain your enthusiasm,” he added wryly.

He gave her a quick once-over, assessing what he had to work with.  Pretty woman, with the predictable desire to be more so.  And something deeper, as well.  Something that felt like spiraling, a need for control and power, to keep other minds out.

“After all, not like I forced you to show up,” he pointed out, with a cheerfully casual, “Get a taste of undercooked brain today?” along the same lines as ‘someone piss in your Cheerios?’

Summer sighed, folding her arms. “I have to admit, I was hoping that when you had something to say to me next it would be a little more …” she flicked a hand, looking for a word, “informative than ‘kinda miss you’. But apparently I’m a sucker and can’t stay away from you. And you’re being more than usually weird.”

Crossing the room, she dropped herself heavily into the sofa and looked at Tony upside down. “So. You missed me, kinda.”

Phone Tag (@ Summer)

gadgeteerphilanthropist:

iamthefirechild:

Summer jumped when her phone buzzed. Tony’s tone. She’d almost given up hope of hearing from him again, and her hands shook when she clicked open the instrument.

[text] Thought we talked about this. Just this once.

She considered the screen for a long moment before hitting send. Five minutes later, she was in the air, streaking up the front of Stark Tower.

He grinned at his phone, and slid it back into his pocket.  Wonderful.  It wouldn’t have been hard to find her if she had insisted on it, but he rather liked this tower.  It would just be more fun to play the game here, where it was comfortable.

-Sir, Miss Rainault has arrived on the premises.  Are you certain you—-

“Mute.”

Jarvis’s voice died away.

He watched the door, leaning back against the edge of the bar and sipping his drink.

She dropped onto the landing pad, half-consciously mirroring Tony’s favourite landing pose. Setting fingertips to the door, Summer squared her shoulders and steeled herself. ‘I’m annoyed with him,’ she reminded herself, before pushing the door open.

“Hey.”

Phone Tag (@ Summer)

gadgeteerphilanthropist:

He really knew how to pick them, sometimes.  The last few hosts had been nothing to write home about—chosen out of proximity and necessity—but this one?  Hell, the penthouse alone made it worth it.

He was pouring himself a drink at the bar, when the phone in his pocket buzzed.  Was someone calling.

Ah, no.  Just an alarm.  Well, so much for that meeting.  What else was on here?

He scrolled through messages, lingering over a certain conversation.

…It was time to play a game.

[text] Hey.  Kinda miss you.  Come over?

Summer jumped when her phone buzzed. Tony’s tone. She’d almost given up hope of hearing from him again, and her hands shook when she clicked open the instrument.

[text] Thought we talked about this. Just this once.

She considered the screen for a long moment before hitting send. Five minutes later, she was in the air, streaking up the front of Stark Tower.