Tag Archives: rp: valentine’s evening

Valentine’s Evening || iamthefirechild

gadgeteerphilanthropist:

iamthefirechild:

“I don’t know, McDonald’s is pretty damn awful. That might be a tie.” The server came back, and she asked for a peach daiquiri, still frowning at the menu. “I think I will have to let you pick for me, Tony,” she said at last.

“Clearly you’ve never tried any of my attempts at cooking,” Tony remarked with some amusement.  He ordered coffee when the server came by, and glanced over the menu again.  “Any sort of food you’re particularly averse to?”

Summer couldn’t help but laugh. “Six months and you still have to ask me that. We’re so weird.” She closed up the menu, rubbing at her fingernails for lack of anything else to do with her hands. “I don’t like spicy foods,” she told Tony, “and there are a lot of things I haven’t tried. Not very helpful, I know.” Pulling her hands to her lap, she fidgeted with the edges of her dress. “Can I ask you something, Tony?”

Valentine’s Evening || iamthefirechild

gadgeteerphilanthropist:

iamthefirechild:

“It’s quiet, at least,” she allowed. “Nobody staring at me because you’re here.” She flipped through the menu, trying hard to keep her expression controlled. Okay, so maybe she still wasn’t used to the amount of money Tony could just throw around if he wanted. “And it’s far and away better than you trying to cook.”

Summer tapped her finger absently on the wine list. “Am I allowed to drink?” she asked, looking up at him over the little table. “Or shall we both abstain?”

“McDonald’s is better than me trying to cook,” he replied dryly as he glanced over the menu.  “So that’s not exactly a ringing endorsement.”  Well, at least he was self-aware when it came to his few and horrible attempts at cooking.

He made a loose, flippant gesture with one hand.  “Feel free.  I’m just going with coffee, though.”

“I don’t know, McDonald’s is pretty damn awful. That might be a tie.” The server came back, and she asked for a peach daiquiri, still frowning at the menu. “I think I will have to let you pick for me, Tony,” she said at last.

Valentine’s Evening || iamthefirechild

gadgeteerphilanthropist:

iamthefirechild:

Tony’s text had led to a massive ravaging of the closet. Summer loved pretty clothes, but she didn’t often indulge herself, and despite dating Tony (informally or no) for six months, she still often felt like she didn’t do him justice in the dressing up department.

Should it be the violet chiffon? Or maybe something more suited to her name? Something red; or was that /too/ formal? Maybe something low-cut over a plain skirt? Or more medieval?

Finally she gave up, dumped it all back in the closet, and spread the violet ruffles out on the bed. First choice was often best, and Tony rarely seemed to care what she wore. A shower, brush through the hair and then clipped out of the face loosely with a silver butterfly, long silver star earrings, a matching star on a black velvet band … She hoped she would pass muster. No shoes in the world would bring her close to his height.

There was no mistaking the sound of the Veyron, so she stepped out the door to meet him.

The grin Tony offered her as she climbed into the car was twofold.  Yes, it was mostly just the smile she got whenever he was glad to see her, and that was likely expected, considering he had planned this outing (shockingly enough).  But along with it was something of that grin he got when he was planning something, and he was thrilled that he was the only one that knew what.

“You look nice,” he commented, as the car pulled out of the parking lot.

There were longer drives.  But then, there were also shorter drives.  Driving time aside, the restaurant the car pulled up to about fifteen minutes later wasn’t the largest in existence and in some ways it resembled something from the Victorian ages, but there was still a valet to intercept them as they stepped out of the car.  Alexander’s catered to those who could afford the privacy they expected to get while they were there.

“You too,” she replied. He looked more than nice; she loved when he dressed up. Well, truth, she loved every possible look on him, though the Iron Man suit ranked lowest. Even there, though, it was … /right/. But tonight, he looked superb, and his smile had an edge of mischief she’d sorely missed.

“No more hints?” she teased. “You’re full of the mischief.” Stepping out of the car when the valet opened the door, she brushed her skirt out and deliberately gave a little swirl to her hair. She told the valet ‘thank you’ and reached for Tony’s hand, unable to shake a slight case of nerves.

Valentine’s Evening || iamthefirechild

gadgeteerphilanthropist:

Tony had texted Summer earlier in the day to let her know what the dress code was—formal, but not overly formal—and what time he would be picking her up—7:40, for an 8:00 reservation—and then he had gone about the majority of his day.

It was a fairly normal day.  He did some paperwork, babbled aimlessly at the dog, chased the otter down for a pair of keys, and very thoroughly made a mess in the workshop.

And then evening rolled around, as it is wont to do, and he wandered out of the lab to get ready so that when he pulled up at Summer’s apartment in the Veyron—let it never be said that he knew what subtlety was—he was showered, groomed, and well dressed.

Tony’s text had led to a massive ravaging of the closet. Summer loved pretty clothes, but she didn’t often indulge herself, and despite dating Tony (informally or no) for six months, she still often felt like she didn’t do him justice in the dressing up department.

Should it be the violet chiffon? Or maybe something more suited to her name? Something red; or was that /too/ formal? Maybe something low-cut over a plain skirt? Or more medieval?

Finally she gave up, dumped it all back in the closet, and spread the violet ruffles out on the bed. First choice was often best, and Tony rarely seemed to care what she wore. A shower, brush through the hair and then clipped out of the face loosely with a silver butterfly, long silver star earrings, a matching star on a black velvet band … She hoped she would pass muster. No shoes in the world would bring her close to his height.

There was no mistaking the sound of the Veyron, so she stepped out the door to meet him.