Multifandom Oneshots (II)

Tony Stark x Reader

Tony Stark is, by far, the best boyfriend you've ever had, and you're more than happy to tell why.

There's the anxiety:
You stare at him. Your heart's racing and your chest feels tight. You know you're shaking.
"What?" He asks. "What's wrong?"
"Call for pizza?"
"I'll do it, baby. Don't worry." He kisses your forehead.
"I'm sorry--"
"Don't apologize. It isn't your fault. You like pepperoni, right?"
"I'm sorry." You say again when he gets off the phone.
"It's okay, baby. It should be here in twenty minutes."
You nod and curl up on the couch.
Is this really what you've come to? Too scared to call for a fucking pizza?
You know Tony's watching you, so you try your best not to cry.
Good God, what's wrong with you? It's a five minute conversation on the phone, and you can't do it? Can't you do anything?
Oh, that's right. You can't.
You forgot. Your bad.
"Baby." Tony says.
You shake your head. If you talk, you'll cry. Then he'll be even more adamant about you getting help.
He comes and sits beside you, wrapping his arms around you. You try to pull away, but he pulls you back.
"I'm sorry." You say, starting to cry.
"Don't be. I love you." He holds you tightly. "It's okay, honey. I love you."
Why should he, though? He's amazing, and you're you. He can talk to people on the phone. You don't love yourself, and neither does anybody else, so why the hell should Tony Stark?
You start crying harder.
"It's okay, baby. I love you." He kisses your head, his arms tightening. "And I'm not letting you go until you say you love me too."
Why should he want your love? He could get anybody else's, and they're all better than you are anyways.
The doorbell rings.
"Okay, I'm gonna let you go to go get the pizza, but I'll be right back."
"Shut up, for Christ's sake." You snap at yourself as he goes to get the door.
He returns with a box of pizza. He walks past you, puts it down, and returns.
"Up you go." He says, proceeding to pick you up off the couch and carry you to the dining room table.
You stare at the slice in front of you.
"You've gotta eat, darling." Tony says gently.
You eat, if only to satisfy him.
Everyone says you marry someone like your father, but Tony orders your food for you, so he's already ahead on that one.

There's the depression:
Tony comes in the bedroom in the afternoon, dressed for success, as always. "Hey, baby. You okay?" He asks.
You were staring at the wall, but when you heard him come in, you closed your eyes. "Mhm." You mumble from the bed.
"You sure?"
"Mhm."
"Gonna get out if bed?"
"Uh-uh." You hum. You're too tired.
The door closes, but you're too weary to open your eyes again, so you leave them closed.
The closet door opens, so you force your eyes open. When Tony emerges from inside, he's back in his pajamas. "Hey, JARVIS? Do me a favor and cancel all my plans for the day."
"Sir, may I remind you of your meeting with--"
"No you may not." Tony interrupts, coming to lay beside you. He wraps his arms around you.
"You should probably go to your meeting." You whisper.
"It's nobody important."
"It's the President of the country, sir." JARVIS says.
"And the President can hold his horses. I have more important things to do."
"This is the kind of stuff that gets you in trouble." You remind him.
"That's okay. Trouble's my middle name."
"You don't really have more important things to do. You're just laying here."
"Just laying here with you. You trump the President any day. I told you I'd be here for you. That includes when you're laying in bed."
"I'm okay, love."
"I see right through you. Take a nap."
You do, and when you wake up, you do feel a bit better, so you watch a movie.

Can't forget the panic attacks, though:
You sit in the living room, waiting on Tony.
He comes out, looking dashing, as usual. "Are you sure you--Oh, wow. You look.... wow."
"Do I look bad?" You ask, getting concerned.
"No no no. No. You look amazing." He comes up and kisses your cheek. "You look great, baby. What about me? Does my tie make my eyes pop? It's the look I was going for..."
You laugh. "Yes."
"You sure you wanna go? We don't have to."
"You have to."
"I have to. Just long enough to make an appearance. You don't have to."
"I can do it, Tony." You say fiercely.
"I know you can." He smiles, looking like a proud parent.
He looks even more like a proud parents when you manage to get through the doors. "Is this one of the times you want contact?" He asks quietly as you're glancing around, fighting down panic.
You nod, your eyes stinging.
He slips his arm around you as people rush up to him.
"Tony, can you tell us about your time in Afghanistan?" A man with a microphone says.
"Mr. Stark, I understand that you and the other Avengers are at odds, particularly Captain America. Can you tell us about it?" A woman shoves a microphone in his face.
"Tony Stark, can you tell us about your relationship with Y/L/N?" Another woman says.
No. No he may not.
But he does, and you almost cry. "I cannot tell you about Afghanistan. I'm not at odds with Captain Rogers. My relationship with Y/N is absolutely wonderful. Can you guys back up, please? A little breathing room? Thank you--Hey. Leave the lady alone." Tony says expertly.
"Miss Y/L/N, can you tell us what it's like to be in a relationship with America's Most Eligible?" A woman demands of you, half tackling you in her eagerness.
"Hey, Tony?" You whisper. You're going to activate the safe word. You can't stay in here another second. "I left the oven on."
"Back up, guys. Please. We have to go." Tony says. He turns you around to walk out. "Excuse us. Coming through. Excuse us. Excuse us."
Tony holds out his arm, and people look a him like he's crazy.
"Mr. Stark--" A woman begins.
You stare at Tony, unwilling to take your eyes off of him. He's your security blanket. If you look away from him, you'll lose is.
The Iron Man suit comes flying onto him. He grabs you and flies through a window.
"Are you hurt?" He asks as soon as you're clear.
You shake your head as he lands in the parking lot and opens the car door for you.
You start crying as soon as he closes the door. By the time he gets in the car, you're gasping for air, feeling like you're dying.
He reaches over and grabs your hand as he screeches out of the parking lot. "It's okay, baby. You're okay." He says.
When you get home, he pulls you out of the car and sits you on top of a little sports car.
"Hey, it's okay. You did well. You did really well. I'm so proud of you."
You slide off the car and wrap your arms around his neck, gasping into his shirt.
"Yeah. It's okay. It's all right, baby. I'm proud of you." He tells you over and over.
"I'm sorry." You say once you've calmed down.
"For what?"
"Making you leave. You can go back."
"No. I don't want to."
"And for crying."
"Don't apologize for crying."
"For freaking out."
"Don't apologize for that either."
"For getting makeup on your shirt."
He looks down at his shirt and shrugs. "I've got more."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. I love you."

Then there are the days when you control everything, and you're, for the most part, okay, but he doesn't feel the best:
"What's wrong, Tony?" You ask.
"I want you to be happy." He looks up from his glass of whiskey.
"I am."
"We both know you aren't."
"I'm all right." You shrug, perching on the edge of his desk.
He holds out a glass to you. You shrug, so he pours you one. "This sucks."
"What sucks?" You ask.
"Everything."
"I know." You agree.
"I'm sorry I suck."
"You don't."
"Yeah I do."
"No you don't." You give a little half smile.
He shrugs.
"You're the best, Tony. I'm lucky."
"No. I'm lucky." He leans over and kisses you.

But when you're both okay, that's when it's the best:
"Babe." He says.
"Hm?" You look up from your book.
"Let's do something."
"Let's do what?"
"Come on. We'll drive until we see something."
"Pack a bag?"
"Sure, why not?"
He laughs, hugging you and spinning you around. "I love you."
"I love you too."