gadgeteerphilanthropist:
iamthefirechild:
gadgeteerphilanthropist:
iamthefirechild:
“Hi, Jarvis!” Summer waved haphazardly at the ceiling. “Please don’t call me ‘miss,’ it makes me feel like I should still be sixteen and virginal. First name is fine.” She unslung her backpack as she stepped into the elevator, letting it rest at her feet while she examined the details of everything.
“I know I’m sounding like an idiot fangirl here, but I can’t even express how amazing this all is.” The close confines of the elevator, she hoped, wouldn’t last long, because she could already feel the empathic side-effects kicking in. ‘Thank gods for shields and iron control,’ she thought.
There was a beat of silence, and then Tony supplied, “Summer Rainault, Jarvis. He can’t hear things said outside the building too well.” The last he directed at Summer. ”And I wouldn’t say you sound like an idiot fangirl.” More like just an average fangirl, really. He’d met enough fangirls to tell the difference.
It wasn’t the shortest elevator ride in history, but then it was a fairly large tower, and guest quarters were just a few floors down from the top. But it also wasn’t terribly long. When the elevator dinged open, Tony stepped out and gestured down the hall to the guest suites. ”Take your pick.”
For simplicity’s sake, Summer picked the first door she came to, pushed the door open with a gentle kick, and dropped her backpack just inside. Then she stretched hugely, with a crackle of unwinding sinews, and turned back to Tony. “Now what?”
Arms crossed and leaning back against the wall beside the elevator, Tony replied, “Pretty sure that’s your call. You were the lotto winner, were you not?”
She gave him a very flat look. “All right. In for a penny, in for a pound. Just … wait there for a minute.” She went inside her room, and shut the door. Approximately a minute later, she came back out, looking exactly the same, and grinned at Tony.
“Last one to the pool’s a rotten egg!”
fenrir-the-monster-wolf:
iamthefirechild:
fenrir-the-monster-wolf:
iamthefirechild:
fenrir-the-monster-wolf:
Blue eyes were drawn towards the movement Michelangelo provided, and Fenrir donned a fake smile as the man set their food before them, flurrying away almost as fast as he had come. When they were once again alone Fenrir took one last sip of his wine, draining the glass and staring at it, still touching the cool, clear material.
“Revenge is one word for it. Destiny, I suppose, is another.” He waved it away. “Come. We should eat, before it cools.”
“Yes, Fenrir,” Summer responded wryly, already spreading her napkin across her lap. The next few minutes disappeared in the consumption of the delicious pasta, until initial hunger was sated. Laying her fork down, Summer picked up her glass and eyed Fenrir over the top of it.
Michelangelo notwithstanding, she could already tell that she was going to spend a lot of her daydreaming time thinking about Fenrir after he had to leave. However he’d been turned human, his human form was extremely attractive, and his polite, warm personality just made the attraction stronger. Touching him with her gift, of course, heightened it even more; but that was a side effect she was used to.
Pressing her lips together, she forced her gaze away and back to her plate. She could at least try not to ogle him openly.
Fenrir had been enjoying his veal Marsala innocently, and wiped at his mouth with the napkin, still looking down at the plate as he set his fork aside and swallowed.
“Are you going to finally tell me if there is something on my face? You have been staring at me all night. Perhaps there is something burdening your mind?” His eyes had a rehearsed innocent serenity to them, twinkling just right with the hint of mischief. He did so love to tease her a little; put her on the spot. It was rather… cute to watch.
It took Summer a split second to register the comment before she burst out laughing. “Fenrir!” She couldn’t say anything else for a minute between laughing and hiding her face. “Okay, you got me. I am watching you. There’s nothing wrong with your face, which is the problem.” Another bubble of laughter interrupted her.
He hid a slight smirk behind his hands, folded before his mouth as he feigned not knowing what she meant. “I am a problem?”
“Yes!” she giggled. Shoving the chair back, Summer got up again, stepped around, and pulled his hands gently down from his face. She so short, and he so tall, they were nearly at a level, and, oh so carefully, she projected her desire for him, taking care to shape it as a foreign emotion to him.
Slowly, she leaned forward to kiss him.
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