supercilious-pariah:

iamthefirechild:

Funny. She arched an eyebrow right back. “No longer capable of protecting yourself? You could hire a bodyguard.”

Come to think of it, although she’d been joking, what exactly was Tony Stark doing, just … running? Didn’t that Tower of his have basically every amenity known to man, and some only known to, well, Tony Stark, in it?

She looked him up and down, grinning. “Or you could run away. You’re all set for that.”

He squinted slightly.

“I am perfectly capable of protecting myself. I just don’t necessarily want to, right now.”

“Why would I hire a bodyguard? That just requires that I have to run at the same pace as them. What if they go too slow? Then I’m making them do a shitty job because they can’t keep up with me.”

He shrugged lightly, looking around for a moment before he looked back at her.

“What are you even doing?”

“People-watching. Making fun of you. Why?”

Oh, this was fun. He was supposed to be the most witty, smooth man in the world, and it was so /easy/ to make fun of him.

She rolled over, tried to get up, planted one hand on the end of her long braid, and sat down hard. “Ow. Swear words.” The second attempt went better, and she stuck her hands in her pockets as she sauntered over to him.

He was a long way up to look. At least eight inches taller than she was. Maybe more like a foot. She rocked onto her toes, slightly, smirking.

supercilious-pariah:

iamthefirechild:

Watching other people run always made her think she should be running herself. She didn’t, of course, but it made her think she should. Laziness was an indulgence. So she indulged herself, sprawling belly-down on a blanket near the path, watching other people run.

Or, in some cases, not run.

He’d /been/ running. Dampness still stuck his hair to his neck, shirt to his chest. She drew her gaze down the rest of his body, then back up. Headphones. Arc reactor.

Arc reactor?

“Bit risky, just running around the city, with the number of people who want you dead, isn’t it?” she called to Tony Stark.

Well. That got his attention.

He blinked, looking around to try and figure out exactly who had spoken to him. The voice was vaguely, vaguely, familiar, and female. Which at least, he hoped, it meant it wasn’t a Loki. Because that would be bad. Like many things.

Like swooping.

However he soon noticed the girl… woman… girl?… female laying on a blanket, an eyebrow arched.

“… well it is now, seeing as you just reminded the general populace that it wanted to kill me.”

Funny. She arched an eyebrow right back. “No longer capable of protecting yourself? You could hire a bodyguard.”

Come to think of it, although she’d been joking, what exactly was Tony Stark doing, just … running? Didn’t that Tower of his have basically every amenity known to man, and some only known to, well, Tony Stark, in it?

She looked him up and down, grinning. “Or you could run away. You’re all set for that.”

supercilious-pariah:

It was… weird.

Running again, that was. He had started running a lot more since he realized that he was a few steps above the average Stark, just to make sure that he would stay that way. Of course dying had definitely put a damper on his running but now? He didn’t have a reason not to run anymore.

So he had started running again, starting from his Tower and then running until he felt like he was tired, then turning around and running all the way back at a quicker pace as if to tell himself to put up or shut up. His muscles ached, but that was fine. It seemed that even in death the deal kept.

Perhaps that was the only reason why he was alive in the first place. 

Maybe he had never really died?

It was an odd concept, but one that was drowned out for the most part by the fact that though he had stopped to take a quick break his headphones were still distracting him.

He wasn’t listening to music, though.

Exactly what he was listening to? He didn’t really feel like explaining.

Watching other people run always made her think she should be running herself. She didn’t, of course, but it made her think she should. Laziness was an indulgence. So she indulged herself, sprawling belly-down on a blanket near the path, watching other people run.

Or, in some cases, not run.

He’d /been/ running. Dampness still stuck his hair to his neck, shirt to his chest. She drew her gaze down the rest of his body, then back up. Headphones. Arc reactor.

Arc reactor?

“Bit risky, just running around the city, with the number of people who want you dead, isn’t it?” she called to Tony Stark.