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[Ironman] Ch: 91 [Sudden date with Natasha]
🕑 Added 2025-05-16 23:13:43 +0000 UTC[Natasha’s Quarters] [Around 7 PM]
Natasha had just finished drying her hair, barefoot in a black tank top and joggers, scrolling through combat training schedules on her tablet while sipping tea. She was standing before her work desk.
The door opened with a soft hiss.
Before she could turn to see who it was, two strong arms wrapped around her waist from behind, pulling her gently back against a familiar chest.
“Hey,” Tony whispered into her ear, his voice low, a little breathless from the day’s chaos.
Natasha blinked, surprised for a second. He hadn’t messaged. No call. No ping. Just... showed up, smelling faintly of ozone and machine oil.
She leaned her head slightly, a faint smile playing at her lips. “Shouldn’t you be elbow-deep in weapon diagnostics or doing zero-G backflips in a mech?”
“Did that,” he murmured, resting his chin on her shoulder. “Calibrated, re-tested, exploded once, almost drowned... and now I need a break.”
He gently turned her around in his arms until they were face to face. His eyes were tired but warm, that rare version of him she saw when the mask slipped just enough to let her in.
She raised an eyebrow, both hands still resting lightly on his chest. “So? What’s up?”
Tony kissed her. Not rushed. Not playful. Just a slow press of lips that said I missed you, even if he wouldn’t admit it out loud.
Then, still close, he said, “Dinner. You, me. Off-base.”
Natasha blinked again. “Dinner?”
“New York,” he added casually, like he was suggesting ordering takeout. “I made a reservation.”
“You made a reservation?” she echoed, now fully stunned.
“I know. Terrifying,” Tony smirked. “Took me fifteen seconds. I even called myself a name in the notes. ‘Do not seat this man near candles.’ Real classy.”
She stared at him for a second, caught somewhere between suspicious and touched. “You’re serious?”
“I want one evening where we don’t talk about adamantium, space radiation, mutant genetics, or warlords. Just you. Me. Real food. Wine. Something resembling normal.”
Natasha’s expression softened. Slowly, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him again, this time deeper, with that slow burn that always knocked the wind out of him.
“You’re full of surprises today,” she whispered before biting his lower lip softly.
Tony leaned his forehead against hers. “I’m full of a lot of things. But right now, I’m full of one idea... dinner, you, skyline view, maybe some soft jazz if you’re into that kind of torture.”
She pulled back just enough to give him a teasing look. “You clean up nice, Stark?”
Tony grinned. “I’ll even comb my hair.”
“That’s commitment,” she said as she moved her head close to his neck and took a sniff before kissing. “You need to take a nice bath." She pulled back a little and looked at his usual jacket with a hoodie, "And wear something blue? It looks good on you. Makes you sexy." She winked.
...
[Tony’s Quarters]
Steam rolled along the ceiling of Tony’s bathroom as he stepped out of the shower, hair damp, towel slung low on his hips. His muscles ached pleasantly from mech training and lab work. Still, the second he’d felt Natasha’s kiss earlier, his brain had switched gears completely.
Dinner. A real one.
He walked to the sink, wiped steam off the mirror, and eyed himself. The stubble stayed. Clean shave felt too much like a board meeting. He brushed his teeth, ran a hand through his wet hair, and pulled open the wardrobe he barely touched.
The blue suit was still wrapped in plastic. He pulled it out carefully.
Dark navy. Tailored. Simple but sharp. Natasha had picked the fabric months ago during one of their rare downtime days. At the time, she said nothing, just handed it to him like it was a dare. He hadn’t worn it. Not yet.
Tonight was the night.
He slipped into the pants, adjusted the cuffs, and rolled on the shirt. The jacket came last. Smooth, breathable, stitched with micro-thread armor plating that nobody would ever notice.
He adjusted the collar, checked his reflection, and smirked. “Damn.”
Hermes chimed softly from a ceiling speaker.
“Transport is ready. Coordinates set. ETA twenty-three minutes to location.”
Tony tapped the comm.
“Notify Natasha. Tell her not to be late. I hate waiting. Even when she’s worth it.”
Hermes responded.
“Message sent. She replied with: ‘Try not to crash the car before I look hot.’”
Tony grinned as he opened his watch collection and put on one with a blue crystal theme. And as usual, it contains nanites.
After that, he walked out, the hallway lights responding to his steps. The elevator doors parted, and the platform lowered in silence, bringing him down to the landing pad.
His ride awaited: a low-profile Stark flyer, midnight-black, shaped like a luxury coupe but silent as a whisper. Fully cloaked, untraceable, and outrageously over-engineered for a dinner date.
...
[Natasha’s Room]
Natasha stood in front of the full-length mirror, zipping up the back of her dress. Black, thigh-high slit, off-shoulder neckline. Elegant but unpretentious. Practical where it counted. Her hair was pulled into a low knot, clean and minimal, a few loose strands framing her face.
Her lipstick was deep wine. Her heels were discreet but sharp enough to be a weapon if needed. She checked her nanite bracelet, then grabbed her purse, and turned once in the mirror.
She didn’t usually dress up. But for this?
Yeah, she’d make an exception.
Elena’s voice came through the room’s speaker.
“Your transport is waiting. And I must say... red on black. Bold choice.”
Natasha smirked. “Eyes off, Elena.”
“Don’t worry,” the AI replied. “I’m more interested in how many jaw drops you’ll cause tonight.”
She walked out without another word.
...
[Hanger bay]
Tony glanced at the time and smiled to himself. "Two minutes early. That’s gotta break some universal law."
Then the doors at the far end of the hangar opened.
She stepped in.
And for a split second, Tony forgot how to breathe.
His brain stalled.
Natasha walked slowly, heels tapping with precise rhythm, the hem of her dress sweeping just above her thigh. The black hugged her like it was sewn onto her soul: off-shoulder, slit up the side, elegance laced with danger. Her walk was confident, unrushed, like she owned every step.
Tony’s heart thudded harder, tripping over itself.
When she finally did glance his way, something in her eyes, cool, sure, and faintly amused, hit him square in the chest. His breath caught. The dress, the hair, the lipstick… God, the lipstick.
“Damn…” he muttered under his breath, louder than he meant to.
Natasha stopped just a few feet from him. "Is that the part where you say something witty? Or are you still rebooting?"
Tony blinked, then let out a short laugh, eyes roaming once, respectfully, but thoroughly. “You look… I mean, you already know, but...”
“I do.” She smirked. “But go on. I like hearing it.”
“You look dangerous, sexy, hot, breathless,” he said softly. “And I'm kinda having a harder time controlling myself from hugging you and kissing you.”
She stepped in closer, looking up at him. “You clean up nice.”
Tony leaned slightly, voice low. “You make that dress illegal.”
Natasha slid a hand along his chest, smoothing the lapel. “You’re lucky I like criminals.”
He took her hand gently, lifted it, and kissed her knuckles. No smirk this time. Just eyes locked on hers. Serious. Warm.
“Let’s go make New York jealous.”
She tilted her head, grinning. “Lead the way, Mr. Stark.”
He offered his arm.
She took it.
And together, they stepped into the flyer, the hatch closing behind them as the engines hummed to life and they flew toward their destination.
...
[Location: New York City – The Aurelian, Rooftop Restaurant]
Night sky, busy city, cool air...
Tony and Natasha sat across from each other on a private balcony terrace, half-wrapped in the hush of the evening. The table was tucked away from the rest of the diners, screened by a living wall of ivy and soft ambient light.
She swirled the red wine gently in her glass, eyes steady on his.
Tony watched her without hiding it.
"You’re staring," she said, lips brushing the rim of her glass.
"I am. Intentionally. Can’t help it when the view clears my mind."
She smirked. "That’s poetic. Did you rehearse that?"
"I ran through five lines in my head before landing on that one. Seemed like the least likely to get me kicked under the table."
Natasha leaned forward slightly, chin propped on one hand. "I’m still deciding."
Their first course arrived. Tony barely looked at it. Some fusion appetizer with shaved truffle and a glaze he couldn’t pronounce. What mattered was how she looked, biting into it, eyes closing just a second too long like the flavor surprised her.
"You always eat like that?" he asked.
"Like what?"
"Like the food’s passing a test it didn’t study for."
She raised an eyebrow, playful. "You’re charming when you’re tired."
He rested his hand flat on the table between them. She didn’t hesitate. Her fingers found his.
"I needed tonight," he said.
"I know."
"No labs. No mechs. No galactic risk reports. Just one dinner with you, and the city breathing below our feet."
"You’re getting sentimental," she said, but the softness in her eyes didn’t argue.
"I’m letting myself feel things. Don’t make me regret it."
Natasha ran her thumb across his knuckles. Her voice lowered, more serious now. "You’re allowed to feel. Even if the world keeps asking you to act like you don’t."
He looked down for a moment, then back at her.
"You’re the only part of this I don’t second-guess."
"And you’re the only part of this that lets me stop looking over my shoulder."
They continued to talk and soon...
Their mains arrived. Neither touched them right away. There was too much weight in the quiet now... good weight. Familiar. Intimate.
After a few bites, Tony reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, flat case. He set it in front of her.
"What’s this?"
"Something I built a while ago. Thought about giving it to you. Couldn’t figure out if it was too much."
She opened it.
Inside was a pendant. Minimalist design, the size of a thumbnail, with a soft blue glow in the center. She opened it, and a soft tune started playing as a tiny holo-screen appeared on top, playing all their past recorded memories.
Natasha quickly closed it as soon as it came to the part where Natasha was singing in the garden while feeding the birds.
"Ha!" Her eyes widened as she tried to hold her smile.
"Oh, yeah. You got a nice voice. Don't try to hide it," He winked.
The rest of the dinner moved slowly. No rush. No schedules. They talked about normal things like music she didn’t hate, weird food he’d never try again, and what Yelena would think after learning about this dinner date.
When dessert came, Natasha pushed her plate away.
"I’m full."
"You didn’t even try it."
She looked at him over the rim of her wine glass. "I’m saving room."
"For what?"
She stood slowly, walked around the table, and took his hand. Her eyes flicked to the quiet corner of the rooftop lounge behind them.
"For whatever happens next."
