(no subject)
Title: Drabble #1
Author: wrigleyfield
Fandom: Marvel Movieverse
Pairing/Characters: Tony Stark/Misty Knight
Rating/Category: PG
Word Count: 786
Spoilers: None
Summary: Tony asks Misty to marry him. Just because.
Note: Written for taintedlust for a 'give me two characters and I'll write a marriage proposal drabble' meme.
Assumptions made: Her prosthetic is a Stark creation.
"What?"
"You heard me."
"No, Mr. Stark." And suddenly the slick metal arm had disappeared from underneath his fingers and the tools he held between them. "No, I really don't think I did. Either that or I heard you incorrectly. In fact, I'm positive I heard you incorrectly."
"See, I like the way that sounds coming from you. What about, 'Mrs. Stark'?" Tony grinned at Misty. "How does that sound. I think it has a ring to it."
Misty glared back. "'Mrs. Stark-Knight. Or Knight-Stark. And they've got a ring to them all right. The ring of bad writing."
"So you're saying yes."
"I'm saying I'm still pretty sure I didn't hear you correctly." It sounded almost as if it would have been in his best interest had she not heard him correctly.
Tony, normally one to put his best interests first, continued to throw caution to the wind. "I asked you if you'd marry me."
"Yeah, see, there it is again." Misty kept her arms crossed across her chest despite the open panel just above the wrist of her prosthetic where he'd been working. A single eyebrow raised, which didn't help Tony at all. He only found it attractive. "You saying the words 'will you marry me'. In that order.
"Do you want me to get down on one knee?" he asked, still smiling as he ran a hand through his hair.
"I want you to cut that mess on your head," she replied. "But then, we've been over that."
"Which one do you want? Stark-Knight, or Knight-Stark?" Because Tony could focus like no else.
"My arm's not going to check itself, you know." And so could she. One of Tony's many justifications for raising the question in the first place. "Why the hell would you ask me that anyway?"
Tony looked at her quizzically. "Because I like you."
"Oh, because you're still in eighth grade. I get it."
"I skipped the eighth grade."
"Of course." There was silence for a moment before Misty finally laid her prosthetic arm back across the table so that Tony could reach it, perhaps realizing that she was perilously close to unplugging herself from the USB connection and possibly loosing all the data on her arm as a result. Tony knew she couldn't live without her music collection. "Let's try this again. Why?"
"Because," Tony started again, picking up a small welding tool. "You like Frank's and PBR. You like cars. You know that a shortstop isn't a midget stop sign. You can shoot a gun. You've got your own business. You haven't tried to sleep with me."
"Oh, that's romantic," Misty said with a sarcastic nod. "Get down on your knee and wow, I might just have to say yes."
He shrugged. "It's true. It's all good. I think I love you, Mercedes Knight."
"Confidence inspiring."
"I know I love you."
"And I think you need a reality check."
"Yes or no?"
Another pause. "I don't know. I have to think about it."
"It's better than no."
"I know better than to upset the man who's welding my arm back together." For the first time since he'd asked the question, Misty smiled. It made him feel a little better, watching her rest her cheek on her free hand and smile at him in an almost bemused way. "What about a test run?"
Tony looked up from his work completely. "A test run?"
"Yeah. For all you know, you might hate the way I brush my teeth. Or breathe when I sleep. Or tap my pen when I'm thinking. And I," --here she stopped, glancing around the room pointedly and raising her eyebrow again-- "might hate the way you live in the Hamptons all the time. We'd have to talk about that."
"Penthouse on the Upper East side? Maybe in the Dakota?" he offered.
"Try a brownstone in Brooklyn. It can be a nice brownstone." Misty shook her head. "What I'm saying is that we should live together first."
"Is this the part where we fall asleep together and wake up to read the Real Estate section of the Sunday Times the next morning?"
"Something like that. It's the part where you realize that I'm saying maybe we need to move in somewhere and you need to ask me that other question again in a few months." She smirked slightly. "Maybe with a ring this time."
Tony had the decency to look sheepish at that. "It was kind of spontaneous."
"I could tell."
"It's going to be a nice ring."
"It had better be."
"Does that mean you're saying yes?"
"I'm not making any promises. Though," she pointed to his hair. "Cutting that might help."
"Consider it done."
Author: wrigleyfield
Fandom: Marvel Movieverse
Pairing/Characters: Tony Stark/Misty Knight
Rating/Category: PG
Word Count: 786
Spoilers: None
Summary: Tony asks Misty to marry him. Just because.
Note: Written for taintedlust for a 'give me two characters and I'll write a marriage proposal drabble' meme.
Assumptions made: Her prosthetic is a Stark creation.
"What?"
"You heard me."
"No, Mr. Stark." And suddenly the slick metal arm had disappeared from underneath his fingers and the tools he held between them. "No, I really don't think I did. Either that or I heard you incorrectly. In fact, I'm positive I heard you incorrectly."
"See, I like the way that sounds coming from you. What about, 'Mrs. Stark'?" Tony grinned at Misty. "How does that sound. I think it has a ring to it."
Misty glared back. "'Mrs. Stark-Knight. Or Knight-Stark. And they've got a ring to them all right. The ring of bad writing."
"So you're saying yes."
"I'm saying I'm still pretty sure I didn't hear you correctly." It sounded almost as if it would have been in his best interest had she not heard him correctly.
Tony, normally one to put his best interests first, continued to throw caution to the wind. "I asked you if you'd marry me."
"Yeah, see, there it is again." Misty kept her arms crossed across her chest despite the open panel just above the wrist of her prosthetic where he'd been working. A single eyebrow raised, which didn't help Tony at all. He only found it attractive. "You saying the words 'will you marry me'. In that order.
"Do you want me to get down on one knee?" he asked, still smiling as he ran a hand through his hair.
"I want you to cut that mess on your head," she replied. "But then, we've been over that."
"Which one do you want? Stark-Knight, or Knight-Stark?" Because Tony could focus like no else.
"My arm's not going to check itself, you know." And so could she. One of Tony's many justifications for raising the question in the first place. "Why the hell would you ask me that anyway?"
Tony looked at her quizzically. "Because I like you."
"Oh, because you're still in eighth grade. I get it."
"I skipped the eighth grade."
"Of course." There was silence for a moment before Misty finally laid her prosthetic arm back across the table so that Tony could reach it, perhaps realizing that she was perilously close to unplugging herself from the USB connection and possibly loosing all the data on her arm as a result. Tony knew she couldn't live without her music collection. "Let's try this again. Why?"
"Because," Tony started again, picking up a small welding tool. "You like Frank's and PBR. You like cars. You know that a shortstop isn't a midget stop sign. You can shoot a gun. You've got your own business. You haven't tried to sleep with me."
"Oh, that's romantic," Misty said with a sarcastic nod. "Get down on your knee and wow, I might just have to say yes."
He shrugged. "It's true. It's all good. I think I love you, Mercedes Knight."
"Confidence inspiring."
"I know I love you."
"And I think you need a reality check."
"Yes or no?"
Another pause. "I don't know. I have to think about it."
"It's better than no."
"I know better than to upset the man who's welding my arm back together." For the first time since he'd asked the question, Misty smiled. It made him feel a little better, watching her rest her cheek on her free hand and smile at him in an almost bemused way. "What about a test run?"
Tony looked up from his work completely. "A test run?"
"Yeah. For all you know, you might hate the way I brush my teeth. Or breathe when I sleep. Or tap my pen when I'm thinking. And I," --here she stopped, glancing around the room pointedly and raising her eyebrow again-- "might hate the way you live in the Hamptons all the time. We'd have to talk about that."
"Penthouse on the Upper East side? Maybe in the Dakota?" he offered.
"Try a brownstone in Brooklyn. It can be a nice brownstone." Misty shook her head. "What I'm saying is that we should live together first."
"Is this the part where we fall asleep together and wake up to read the Real Estate section of the Sunday Times the next morning?"
"Something like that. It's the part where you realize that I'm saying maybe we need to move in somewhere and you need to ask me that other question again in a few months." She smirked slightly. "Maybe with a ring this time."
Tony had the decency to look sheepish at that. "It was kind of spontaneous."
"I could tell."
"It's going to be a nice ring."
"It had better be."
"Does that mean you're saying yes?"
"I'm not making any promises. Though," she pointed to his hair. "Cutting that might help."
"Consider it done."