Tony Stark (cutsthewire) wrote in thedisplaced, @ 2018-07-21 20:19:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log/thread, julia wicker, tony stark / iron man (mcu) |
WHO: Tony Stark (MCU) & Julia Wicker
WHAT: Tony and Julia grab lunch in the form of dinner and realize it might be their first actual date
WHEN: Thursday afternoon, July 19
WHERE: Málaga, Spain
WARNINGS: None
STATUS: Complete in gdocs
Lunch abroad had been Tony's idea. It might have seemed like more of a grand gesture had it not required Julia opening a portal for them to travel through. But gone were the days when Tony could sweep a date off her feet or overcompensate for the fact that he was not going to call her the next day by setting out on his private jet. Not that he was that man anymore. Still the impulse to show off remained, accompanied by a desire to see Julia's face in the glow of a Spanish sunset. And so, "let's grab lunch" had turned into "let's grab dinner... in Spain." He had a place in mind, but looking across the white linen-covered table at Julia after ordering their selection of tapas in near-perfect Spanish, he sensed he might have overdone it with the venue. He always did know how to read a room, even if he did not necessarily let it inform his actions. But in this instance, he went with what he thought would make Julia most happy, which, he discovered, was what he wanted most himself. A crooked grin formed on his face. "What do you say we wrap this up and see for ourselves why they call this area Costa del Sol?" They didn’t actually go on a lot of dates. The occasional movie nights at his place weren’t dates so much as they were promises to take a break from whatever projects they were working on. This was actually alright with Julia. More than alright, it was perfect. Dressing up and getting made up wasn’t an obligation but a novelty. The tapas were perfect. Watching Tony speak Spanish was a delight. This was almost a new facet of Tony. There were some things he had a very present and delicate ego about, but his ability to belong anywhere was a remarkable, quiet feat of social confidence that Julia had not quite seen the extent of. “I think that sounds perfect,” she said. Because it was. When their plates of food arrived, Tony charmed the waiter into boxing them up to go, despite the impropriety of it. Before long, they were walking along the Port of Málaga with a bag full of food and an open bottle of wine. The weather was cooler than Texas by about twenty degrees, though the humidity made it feel about the same. But the view was definitely improved. The streets were teeming with tourists and locals enjoying the last hour of daylight in the 3,000 year old city. “What do you think?” Tony asked, motioning towards a covered seating area overlooking the many boats and ships at port. “Chairs or sand?” He looked further down the walkway where there was beach access. “I so didn’t dress for sand,” she said, her smile wry, leaving the possibility that she could be convinced if the mood really struck him, despite the style of the dress she wore forcefully saying otherwise. Her heels looked like they required a series of enchantments to walk in. She still wasn’t as tall as Tony in them, despite the ridiculous inches they added to her height. Her hand was slipped into his. Tony looked her up and down, a little more attentively then the way he had at the beginning of their date. She was dressed to kill, and it reminded him of the 24 hours they spent in the brig of the cruise ship. The memory made him smile, as he gave a small shrug. “There’s no dress code in either place. Shoes are not required.” His own footwear was a particularly colorful pair of his usual, designer sneakers, somehow perfectly situated for any occasion. Hand in hers, he led them over to a vacant table at the water’s edge. “How about food first. And then we take whatever’s left of that bottle of wine down to the beach and hope there are no bylaws prohibiting it.” “You’d talk your way out of it,” Julia said, rolling her eyes, as if the thought irritated her. Anyone else wearing sneakers to a nice date would have elicited mild feelings of murder, but Tony could have made them look black tie if he wanted. It was more attitude than anything. So all he got was the occasional eye roll. She didn’t fight him on his suggestion, letting him lead her to a table and having a seat. It was then she was surprised by a thought, “Is this our first date?” If movie nights didn’t count, bringing him by sushi when they discussed their feelings for one another didn’t count, getting stuck in the brig together was before all of that and most certainly didn’t count, the self defense lessons, the working on projects together… For some reason the thought amused her and she was unable to hide her smile. “Sin duda,” Tony replied. He had talked his way out of much worse. When they were seated, he set the bottle of wine on the table between them and pulled out four containers, one by one. The server had even thrown in two sets of silverware. He had more than earned his hefty tip. Julia’s question caught him by surprise. “You think?” he asked, before quickly replaying all of their time together in his mind. “I suppose that depends on the sort of activities you would classify as date-worthy.” He handed Julia a fork and knife and began opening up the containers as he spoke. “Movie nights? Night caps? The occasional party? Bedside vigils when one of us turns partially into a bird? I can’t believe that is actually a thing, by the way.” “Twice,” Julia frowned. “Parties have dates as nouns, not as verbs. Movie nights are basically mandated breaks. Bedside vigils are just good boyfriend behavior.” Julia paused. They’d never used labels. Before Tony could beat her to the joke she said, “And I’m an amazing boyfriend.” Tony cracked a lopsided smile at Julia. If her joke had been a question, then his smile was the answer. “One of us has to be.” He reached out to stab a piece of fried fish with his fork. “Alright, so my dating game is weak,” he confessed with a wave of his hand, the movement causing the buñuelos de bacalao to fall off of the fork he was holding and land in the box of patatas bravas. “My track record should speak for itself.” Even with Pepper, it had been mostly work and quiet nights in. “It does,” Julia agreed, but she was still smiling. “You’re always there for me when I need you, even if it’s something small like backup at a party, you have a similar drive that matches my own and don’t make demands of my time you’re not willing to give yourself and I never feel like an obligation.” Julia watched the fried fish fall onto the wrong plate. “Every relationship should be so lucky to start in a brig. Really sets the right tone. Also dates should be special.” Julia poked her fork at another plate and took a bite. Tony’s smile softened into something more wistful. Back when they made the decision to acknowledge their attraction to one another, he had been concerned that he could never be what she wanted or needed. He was not sure he had it in him to be what anyone wanted or needed. But to his surprise, being with Julia felt natural, almost effortless. She knew what made him tick and did not hold it against him. Instead, she understood it like no other person in his life had. “You make me sound like an amazing girlfriend,” he joked, but his eyes held hers in a way that he hoped would convey that he felt the same way too, appreciated her for all the same reasons, even if he could not say it in as many words. He rescued his fried ball of cod and shoved the whole thing greedily into his mouth. After a moment to chew and swallow, he asked for some clarification. “Define special. Is it the destination? The activity? The clothes? The eats? Do we need to lay down some ground rules for what makes a date a date?” Julia grinned at his joke. “It’s a date when we both make at least a minimum effort to go out somewhere and do something together that isn’t based on some kind of danger or emergency. More of a guideline than a rule. Obviously there are exceptions.” Deciding that the fish did look good, Julia tried a bite and was pleasantly surprised. New York City might have been cosmopolitan but there was still a giant world out there to explore. Tony had picked well. “So it’s contingent on going out?” He stabbed one of the sauce-covered bits of potato with his fork. “So if we decide to stay in some night and I whip up some pasta with my Nana’s special sauce recipe, that’s not a date.” He took a bite and chewed. “Lay some of these exceptions on me.” “Can you actually cook?” Julia said, she was half teasing and half serious. “I was going to say cooking would be an exception but I wasn’t sure if you made anything beyond waffles out of a novelty iron.” “Hey, my waffles are superb.” Tony finished the rest of his patata. “I believe the answer to that question must be given in the form of a demonstration.” “I believe you’re right,” Julia said. It was almost a bet, except the stakes if Tony lost would be a hilarious story about their relationship that would haunt him for the rest of his days. Remember the time Iron Man tried to cook pasta? Of course if he won their mildly competitive challenge she would have to concede he could cook, but she’d be getting a lovely dinner out of it. “Okay, so feeding you a delicious home-cooked meal--my ability to do so, to be determined--is an exception.” He set his fork down in the one of the boxes and rubbed his hands together. “What else you got? What do we have to do to make movie night count?” “You really want movie night to count? Is there a specific number or ratio you’re trying to meet?” she teased. She thought about it. “I don’t know. I like movie nights as is. That when one of us can’t see straight or forgot to eat for the last day we can still get together and there’s no stress.” Julia gave a small shrug and took another bite. Afterward she said, “You’re still an excellent girlfriend.” “Oh, so stress is another requirement for a date?” Tony quipped, even though he knew what she meant. “Then I’m not sure this qualifies either.” There were no glasses, so Tony picked up the wine and took a pull straight from the bottle. He gazed across the table at her for a moment before picking his fork back up and sampling the food from the other boxes. “More dates, then?” It seemed worth asking. He enjoyed spending time with her regardless of the situation. “I’ll try to be higher maintenance,” she teased. Thinking he had picked out a very good looking bite on his fork, Julia poached it with her own and quickly ate it with a not-quite suppressed look of satisfied triumph. “More dates,” she agreed. Julia reached for the wine bottle to take a drink. Once they’d had their fill of food, they pitched the containers and headed down to the beach access. The sun was sitting low on the horizon, obstructed by palm trees and high rises, but the sky was a magnificent display of orange and blue. Tony held onto Julia’s hand in one hand, the half-empty bottle of wine in the other as they walked along the shoreline. He lifted the bottle to his lips before offering it to Julia. “I may have gotten roped into going camping with Peter, his friend Henry, and Henry’s father next weekend.” Tony’s tone was upbeat and irreverent, as usual, but the look on his face betrayed his sense of wondering what he had gotten himself into. Julia lost nearly five inches in height when she took off her heels to walk on the beach next to Tony. Her fingernails were always painted, with rings and small tattoos on her fingers, but her toes were bare. The ornaments on her hands helped her focus when she cast. Her feet didn’t get the same consideration. Julia took the bottle and sip before handing it back. At the mention of camping, she barely avoided snickering, having to look away for a moment so that her look didn’t completely betray her. “You have to do it. It’ll be a bonding experience. The more disastrous it ends up being, the stronger the bond.” “Do I?” Tony looked down at Julia quizzically as she handed him back the bottle. “Big camper yourself?” She may not have lived the pampered existence Tony was accustomed to, but she did not exactly strike him as the camping type either. “A bonding experience,” he repeated. “Surely there are better ways of bonding than putting yourself at the mercy of the elements in the middle of nowhere.” “You’re the one who who wanted to be the eccentric rich guy with a ward. Occasionally you have to water them, feed them and take them camping.” Julia smiled broadly as she leaned in to snake an arm around his waist. “It’s a weekend, right? I think you’ll make it.” “Somebody had to look after him.” Tony draped his arm over her shoulder and pulled her close. “I already had a head start.” He was nonchalant about it, but the reality was, not only did he feel responsible for the kid, he had grown fond of him too. And not even in that way a person might grow fond of the stray dog they put out food for and let sleep on their porch. Anyone else might call it paternal, but Tony had no real basis for comparison. “So what do we think of Málaga?” He made a broad, sweeping gesture of the beach, the port, and the sea beyond with his hand holding the wine bottle. “Nice views,” she said, eyeing him. Tony looked down at her out of the corner of his eye. He had to agree. |