Stitches⚣Stony

Twenty-Six

What's up my lovelies! I'm currently in fucking America yo! (Or well I'm on an 11 hour flight coming back from America and I'm spending the 11 hours catching up on all of my writing neglect eek) and what better way to celebrate me *haven* been in America, living the dream for 11 days, by updating my fucking favourite fic, and my baby.

I! Promise! You! I will have Steve chapters, I'm gonna have Steve's 10 year gap chapter but I'm merging it in with the plot! I'm trying to mature my writing style guys so don't shoot me yet tat you don't have your massive 4K Steve chapter or whatever, gotta focus on the star ya know. Co-Stars come next (;

Also I'm nearing 3K votes and that's fucking amazing? Tell yo friends, yo siblings, grandparents and postman to vote my lovelies

Heart. Of. Gold.

Tony wakes up

Somewhere, deep down inside of Tony believes that this will be a good morning, and maybe it's because he has seemed to wake up on his own accord, without finding himself tangled in damp, sweated bedsheets and with his heart in his mouth, words choked in his mouth and eyes glossy and wide. It's also a good start to know, that for once, he's woken up without a hangover, maybe a tinge in the back of his head, a day to wear his yellow specs and not the blackouts, and he has somehow made it into his own bed. That's always a good start too.

Because Tony never really grew out of that habit of falling asleep in the workshop, finding his head rested on big yellow files marked Important and Private in massive red block letters, his body bent over the workshop bench, a dirty blanket from his dirty couch in front of his make shift coffee table of bricks and wooden crates, draped over his shoulders by DUMM-E before making his way to his charger deck. He'd wake up with a crooked neck, dead arms and a dented line across his midsection, just under the rim of the Arc Reactor, JARVIS alerting him that he needs to get up and DUMM-E eagerly trying to shove foul tasting coffee at him.

Or, he doesn't even make it to his bedroom, nor does he find himself waking up in his workshop, but haven collapsed somewhere between the elevator to the bedroom, sometimes the livingroom, mostly the couch. There, he'd wake up in the worst state, because those types of states where he finds himself waking up on the sofa is only because he was too intoxicated to get to the bedroom, and that comes hand in hand with haven made a scene from one place to another. Which, unfortunately so, means a wake up call from Obie because bad press of Tony is bad press for S.I.

And Obie is never a pretty face to see in the morning, nor is he a pretty presence to have in his apartment, his building, his home.

"Good morning Sir, it is currently 7:41 in the morning. It is currently 78 degrees and raining. You have 357 emails awaiting your attention, 32 missed calls and 5 voicemails in your inbox. You have a meeting at S.I with the Board at 2 this afternoon and Ms. Potts is very eager with reminding you of the charity banquet dinner you are scheduled to attend this evening."