August 29 - Ache
Title: Ache
Author: Vashti (tvashti)
Fandom: Iron Man (MCU), BtVS
Character(s): Tony Stark
Rating: FR-7/G
Summary: He watched until he’d drained his tumbler twice. When he started crunching on an ice cube, he decided he’d been sitting long enough.
Length: ~430 words
Disclaimer: Only the words are mine, and that’s probably up for philosophical debate.
Notes: AU for BTVS S2E9 "What's My Line Part 1". Takes place sometime in S3. Follows Long
Notes2: Go figure, when I have plenty of time to write, I can manage to get in around 300 words. No time to write? 1600, easy. *headdesk*
Tony settled back in his very expensive lounger that had probably been made or designed or bedwet by someone famous or important or, at the very least, mildly scandalous. The scotch, he knew, was forty years old.
"Alright, JARVIS. Show me."
The massive, superthin plasma flatscreen bloomed into life.
"Start time's getting better, but let's work on shaving a few more seconds off, 'kay buddy?"
"Of course, sir."
Tony sipped from his tumbler as familiar images flashed and moved, crawled and jumped, played and stared and made faces. Sometimes, when there was sound, Tony almost smiled. "The vocals are from your mother, but I am definitely the reason you have good taste in music," he murmured.
Occasionally documents floated onscreen, long enough for Tony to have read and memorized the old ones, long enough to pick out the particulars of the new ones. "Passes all his exams and fails all his classes. Most of his classes." Tony took a sip of scotch, eyes skipping over new docs with old information. “Dad would’ve had something to say about that,” he said, chuckling darkly as the display changed. “Lucky for you, you missed out kid.”
He watched until he’d drained his tumbler twice. When he started crunching on an ice cube, he decided he’d been sitting long enough.
Standing, Tony sucked another ice cube into his mouth and approached the screen. Sucking on it instead of crunching, he touched the screen, touched what would have been a cheek, and felt the faint, slightly pliant warmth under his fingers. It was nothing like flesh. It was nothing like skin. There were times, especially with the early pictures, when the itch he felt in his hands was the same one he got down in the shop. But he couldn’t hold a picture and feel its warmth. He couldn’t ruffle its hair. He couldn’t mock it’s t-shirt choices. Alright he could, but it wasn’t the same. He couldn’t rifle through his drawers and toss it a better one.
One of the new pictures flashed beneath his hand: him and the kid, last year at the school. Tony recognized the back of his own head. And there was his son’s pale, completely unimpressed face. This nearly adult version of him took after his mother. But the face that smiled and laughed and oh so seriously banged meaty fists against a poor, defenseless guitar - Tony had seen that face every day for years on his mother’s vanity.
“Goodnight, Danny.”
Tony turned away from the screen. “Hey JARVIS, gimme an update on the holographic displays. What do the projections say?”
Fin[ite]
Note3: i'm pretty sure there's another story lurking in me for this min-verse, but it probably won't manifest this FAD
Author: Vashti (tvashti)
Fandom: Iron Man (MCU), BtVS
Character(s): Tony Stark
Rating: FR-7/G
Summary: He watched until he’d drained his tumbler twice. When he started crunching on an ice cube, he decided he’d been sitting long enough.
Length: ~430 words
Disclaimer: Only the words are mine, and that’s probably up for philosophical debate.
Notes: AU for BTVS S2E9 "What's My Line Part 1". Takes place sometime in S3. Follows Long
Notes2: Go figure, when I have plenty of time to write, I can manage to get in around 300 words. No time to write? 1600, easy. *headdesk*
Tony settled back in his very expensive lounger that had probably been made or designed or bedwet by someone famous or important or, at the very least, mildly scandalous. The scotch, he knew, was forty years old.
"Alright, JARVIS. Show me."
The massive, superthin plasma flatscreen bloomed into life.
"Start time's getting better, but let's work on shaving a few more seconds off, 'kay buddy?"
"Of course, sir."
Tony sipped from his tumbler as familiar images flashed and moved, crawled and jumped, played and stared and made faces. Sometimes, when there was sound, Tony almost smiled. "The vocals are from your mother, but I am definitely the reason you have good taste in music," he murmured.
Occasionally documents floated onscreen, long enough for Tony to have read and memorized the old ones, long enough to pick out the particulars of the new ones. "Passes all his exams and fails all his classes. Most of his classes." Tony took a sip of scotch, eyes skipping over new docs with old information. “Dad would’ve had something to say about that,” he said, chuckling darkly as the display changed. “Lucky for you, you missed out kid.”
He watched until he’d drained his tumbler twice. When he started crunching on an ice cube, he decided he’d been sitting long enough.
Standing, Tony sucked another ice cube into his mouth and approached the screen. Sucking on it instead of crunching, he touched the screen, touched what would have been a cheek, and felt the faint, slightly pliant warmth under his fingers. It was nothing like flesh. It was nothing like skin. There were times, especially with the early pictures, when the itch he felt in his hands was the same one he got down in the shop. But he couldn’t hold a picture and feel its warmth. He couldn’t ruffle its hair. He couldn’t mock it’s t-shirt choices. Alright he could, but it wasn’t the same. He couldn’t rifle through his drawers and toss it a better one.
One of the new pictures flashed beneath his hand: him and the kid, last year at the school. Tony recognized the back of his own head. And there was his son’s pale, completely unimpressed face. This nearly adult version of him took after his mother. But the face that smiled and laughed and oh so seriously banged meaty fists against a poor, defenseless guitar - Tony had seen that face every day for years on his mother’s vanity.
“Goodnight, Danny.”
Tony turned away from the screen. “Hey JARVIS, gimme an update on the holographic displays. What do the projections say?”
Fin[ite]
Note3: i'm pretty sure there's another story lurking in me for this min-verse, but it probably won't manifest this FAD