Shadowplay | Tony Stark

FIFTY SEVEN - TRUST ME

"So, am I better company on a Friday night than Joss?"

Mila and Tony were sat at the bar, close enough to hear one another talk over the loud music and even louder conversations floating through the air around them.

They'd agreed to only have a couple of drinks that night since they didn't want to leave Peter on his own with Tristan for too long, but the more they fell into their old habits of talking the night away with a fresh drink in their hands ever twenty minutes, the harder it became to decide to leave.

The bar was particularly busy that evening and Mila and Tony were tucked away on two stools next to a juke box that didn't work anymore, not a single soul besides the bartender acknowledging them since they'd walked in two hours earlier.

"You're certainly prettier to look at than he is, that's for sure."

Mila laughed and sipper her beer, "That all I am to you? Something pretty for you to look at while you drink?"

While they'd walked into the bar holding hands, things hadn't gone any further than that. Their stools were so close together that Mila was practically sat on Tony's lap, though the only part of them that touched the other was their legs.

Things seemed normal that evening and Tony felt himself falling into what was perhaps a false sense of security at the intensity of their conversations and deep eye contact, reminiscent of the way Mila had looked at him across the table before he'd first kissed her all those months ago.

Tony shrugged with a smirk, "Could make use of you with my other senses too. Touch you, taste you."

Mila felt her heart rise up into her throat when Tony's hand crawled up her thigh. She knew he was only teasing her but the notion made her lose her breath and without thinking, she impulsively pushed his hand away from her leg, a flirty smile that had been on her lips a moment before turning into shock.

"Tony," Mila said with a small, awkward laugh as she pulled her gaze away from him, not having the nerve to look him in the eye.

He just cleared his throat, letting out a defeated sigh before turning slightly and resting his arms on the bar, staring up at the television showing a Spanish soccer game.

Sickness turned Mila's stomach as she watched his face fall and his energy dissipate. There was something chilling about how quickly he'd turned and Mila knew that the moment had changed from light to dark in a single motion by her own actions, guilt consuming her lungs.

Words choked on the end of her tongue and played silently on her lips, nothing breaking the barrier of stillness between them as Tony kept his eyes fixed on the TV on the wall, taking occasional swigs of his beer.

He was hurt. Mila could see it in on his face, even from the side. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were narrowed in attempt to hold back the defeat that would've perhaps drawn tears of exhaustion from his dark eyes.

"I'm sorry, I just-"

"What is it?" Tony interrupted harshly, turning back to face her with raised brows and straight lips, upset written clearly with colours of agitation and shading of discontent.

Mila's lips remained slightly parted as she fought to think of any words of explanation, her eyes pleading for forgiveness at the hurt she'd caused him but her mind equally trying to remind her of the hurt he'd caused her, too.

"I can't read you anymore, Mila. I used to be able to see you so clearly, feel you without needing to say a single word. I keep thinking I know what's going on inside your head but then it turns out I'm totally wrong, I just can't figure you out," his tone was desperate and he ran a hand through his hair in frustration, shaking his head, "I'm waiting for the right time, holding myself back day and night and it's killing me, and then whenever I think you see me the same way I see you, see the moment, you push me away."