Vogue | Tony Stark

FORTY FIVE - HOPELESS

"Sir, you have a visitor."

Tony rolled his eyes at Jarvis' interruption, eyes fixed on an intricate hologram replica of the arm of his newest suit, steady hands tweaking the finest of details.

He had been working in his workshop all day. In fact, Tony had been down there every day since Estélla left, only taking breaks to eat and sleep, which were few both few and far between.

Watching her leave had been hard, but Tony chose to put his faith in the fact that it wouldn't be forever that time, and that Estélla had every intention of coming back into his life once her own world calmed down a little. He wasn't exactly sure when that would be, but Tony didn't want to screw up this second chance, and so he kept his distance just like she'd asked, even though all he wanted to do was talk to her.

The only person that knew what had happened between him and Esté was Rhodey, and Tony wouldn't have spilled the details if he hadn't been in the middle of the situation himself that night of the party. Telling Rhodey everything made Tony feel a little bit better, the Colonel being able to reassure him with kind words and a sense of hope that Tony couldn't always find himself.

Footsteps caught Tony's attention when they eventually came into earshot, the sound of sneakers against the cold floors pulling a sigh from his lips as he stretched his arms above his head and cracked his neck, staring at the mock-up of his suit.

"Rhodey, I hope you've brought me some beers, I think I've fixed the problem."

"Sorry to disappoint."

Tony spun round instantly on the balls of his feet, eyes wide when the reply came from not James Rhodes, but Estélla.

She was stood shyly in the doorway, lingering like she was too afraid to take any steps further. Her skin was bare and her summer freckles brought out the deeper threads of blue in her pale eyes, her hair naturally wavy down to her chest.

"Not at all," he said, looking her up at down with a raised brow, "Why are you dressed like...me?"

Tony laughed as he examined her outfit: a pair of old sweatpants and a beige Fleetwood Mac t-shirt that was far too big for her.

She blushed at his comment, looking down at herself and shrugging her shoulders with a breathless laugh.

"I was just at home and I, I wanted to say thank you for the flowers. I didn't change, came straight here," she said shyly, waving her car keys in her hand.

Truthfully, Esté wasn't sure what her plan of action was once she reached Tony's place. The flowers were just an excuse to see him, she supposed, but once she'd said her thank-you, Estélla had no idea what was going to come out of her mouth next.

"Wow," he smiled, "You must've been really eager to say thank you. But you're welcome."

She nodded, biting down on the inside of her lip as she stared across the room at him. He was leaning against a workbench and there was a broken suit held up by robotic arms in the middle of the space, a scattering of drawings on construction paper and holograms of things that Esté didn't understand floating around themselves.

Tony was in sweatpants too, an Iron Maiden shirt covering him with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows and his hair tousled. He looked at her with a gentle glint in his eye, contentment clear in the calmness of his face and his relaxed smile, happy to just be looking at her.

"Well I uh, I'll get out of your way. Sorry to interrupt you."

"Stella wait," he called out quickly, swallowing as the pain crushed him when she turned her back, "I was just finishing up for the night, actually. Do you wanna go upstairs, I can make us some coffee? Tea or something?"