Tony Stark x Reader

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He leafs through your notebook. It had notes written neatly, notes written nearly illegibly, and notes written in the margins. There were diagrams and charts and tables. Nobody could decipher it besides you (and sometimes not even you).
Tony lays the notebook in front of you and points. "This. How did you get this?"
"Cosine of that." You point.
"Duh. Oh my God. You're a genius." He grabs your face and kisses you. Your eyes shoot open, but he doesn't notice. "You're the hottest genius I've ever seen, by the way. Care to--"
"Strictly business, Mr. Stark." You sigh. It's the umpteenth time you've told him.
"Right. Of course, Miss Y/L/N. Of course.  Where's your product?" He asked, almost excitedly.
"I can't build it. I have no idea how to do that stuff. That's why I contacted you." You stand, coming to be just inches from him. You sit back down as he gives you a watered down version of what Flynn Rider called "the sexy smolder."
"I'll do it." He sits down on your desk. "Your work is brilliant, Miss Y/L/N."
"You can call me Y/N." You manage to get out before turning in your chair and standing.
"Y/N. I could get used to that."
"Don't."
He laughs. "Of course not."
"How much shall I pay--"
"None."
"I should have to pay you just for trying to read this jumbled mess. I have to pay you for making it."
"Take me to dinner."
You smile. "Yes. Dinner it is."
"I'll warm you up, sweetheart. Don't worry about it."
"Oh, I wasn't."
"Here, come with me to start working. I need you to interpret your notes."
"You just went through all of it."
"Okay. I want you to come. What do you say? Humor me?"
"Okay, Mr. Stark--" You turn to face him, holding out your hand.
Your hand hits his stomach and you look up into his face. "Um..."
He gives the smolder again. "Please. Call me Tony."
You step back, clearing your throat. "Tony." You nod. "I'll come."
You go, and soon you're going every day.
You sit in a chair two weeks later, your legs over one arm and your back leaning against the other, your notebook in your hands. "It needs to be five millimeters in diam-- Tony, should you be drinking while you work on something that requires this much precision?"
"I do my best work drinking. Want something? How rude of me, I apologize. Scotch--"
"I do my best work sober, thanks though."
"Suit yourself. Being sober sucks."
"You've got some problems, buddy."
"You're telling me, sweetheart."
"Let me do that part, Tony. I don't want you chopping your finger off."
"I won't. I've done a lot harder stuff more wasted than this."
You shrug and set your notebook down, picking up your reading book. "If you cut off your fingers I'm not taking you to the hospital. May I ask you something?"
"Shoot."
"When New York City was attacked, how did you get out of the wormhole?"
"I... fell." He says. "I fell through it."
"How did you survive?" You cock your head.
"Bruce--Hulk. He caught me."
"Oh. Okay." You look back to your book.
A saw starts, and then turns back off. You look up to see Tony with his hands on the table, his head bowed.
"Tony?" You sit up.
"Huh? Yeah?" He looks up.
"You okay?"
"Yeah. I... Yeah. I'm fine. I'm gonna get some more scotch--"
"I think we should call it quits for tonight."
"No. I'm not to a good stopping point, and--"
"Tony. Let's quit, okay?"
"No, I'm fine. How big did you say again? Five inches?"
"Millimeters."
"Right. Duh. Sorry."
"Bed, Tony. Go on."
"Y/N?"
"Yeah?"
"Stay the night?" He reaches his hand out.
You walk over and take it. He leans down to kiss you, but you hold up your finger. "Strictly business, Mr. Stark."
"Of course."

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A/N
Y'all remember that Bucky fanfic I was talking about writing? Well, I finished it (mark your calendars haha). Y'all should check it out 👌
https://my.w.tt/0ER5TgOIhO

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