Perfectly Suited

[st_arkravinghazelnut]

Tony Stark was too old to play games. Every time he ran hot and cold with his partner was never a calculated power play so much as a deeply embedded habit built around mitigating whatever anxiety he’d built up. Even the old days full of ninja crawling out of bed just to avoid the morning after spiel were motivated by the intimidation (in part) of having them at all.

He’d gotten better at that part, though. Far better. Tony was curled up on the side of the long-suffering pink couch that wasn’t bearing a warped arm rest caused by some make-up rapporto sessuale from earlier in the evening, followed by a shower and the ceremonial poptart.

“You know—“ Tony brushed off some crumbs from his dark sweater, “You are terrible for my diet.”

Comments

[st_ormbreaker]

Thor straightens after Tony's gentle head-nudge and looks down at his fiancee. Or was it husband?

"There's few things I'd like more."

Thor nods his head back in the direction of the inn. "We should get back."

[st_arkravinghazelnut]

With a final pat to the larger man's cheek, Tony was suited up and making a steady ascent. "Race ya! Whoever crashes loses."

[st_ormbreaker]

"You're on, Stark."

Hand extended, Stormbreaker quickly snaps into his hand and just as quickly, the two of them speed off to the inn.