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It worked, just not as intended.

You have no idea how many of society's greatest innovations followed that exact statement. [A lot of them were his innovations.] What was it supposed to do?

I could just throw all the cars off the bridge. It's a valid option.

[He almost wants to tell her to do it, but then he thinks of the look that would be on Pepper's face when Stark Industries inevitably picked up the tab on the damages, and reconsiders his options.

He does have his suitcase suit, after all. It's very handy for getting out of tight spots.]

I'll counter that attractive but destructive proposal with a question: Are you afraid of heights?

[Picking up the tab is not something Lorna is especially concerned about. Collateral damage is generally a small price to pay. Not necessarily 'small' and for someone else to pay.]

No? No really.

Dropping aliens onto Manhattan!

Wait. That's been done. How about Evil Robots... Wait no. Also been done.

You know what? I'm just going to stick to playing Minecraft. I don't have enough money to get sued.

[Tony tosses down his suitcase and steps into it when it swings open. The suit unfolds around him, crawling up his calves, his thighs, engulfing his form until the face plate snaps into place and the transformation is complete. He reaches out, wrapping an arm around her waist and dragging her in close against the side of the suit.]

Hold on.

[The take off is a little rockier than he'd like, but soon they're zipping up into the air, getting a bird's eye view on the chaos below.]

Any reason in particular that the Men in Tac are after you? I'm assuming they're yours, since they aren't a brand of terrorist I'm familiar with.

[thats a nifty bit of tech that she wishes she had more time to look into, never mind the alloy and magnetic fields, but she’s distracted by the flying before she can really focus. Lorna’s not afraid of heights but this is an awful lot higher and faster than she’s used to]

Those guys? Sentinel Services. Your average government grown terrorists to keep the muties in line. Usually they don’t come out in force. Guess someone didn’t like my hair.

[There might be a little more to it than that, like a low level emp knocking the traffic grid and cell service down on the bridge. But that would be pure speculation at this point]

None you're apt to understand, Surfacer.

[An amused snort.] You'd be surprised, Buttercup.

There are very few things I don't understand-- the popularity of jazzercise being one of them. It's a genius thing.

I've seen geniuses before. They tend to be ruined very quickly in the Neath.

[He's not going to give this guy (guy?) the satisfaction of asking what the hell the "Neath" is.]

Please. If the 90s didn't ruin me, nothing will.

Which 90s? *He(?) sounds amused.* The 1790s, the 1690s, or just the numbers 90 through 99?

Or are you not from the 1890s? I won't tell if you won't, the Treachery of Clocks being what it is.

Punch our way through them? [It's not the most elegant of plans, but in her experience, a plan doesn't have to be elegant to work. Sometimes a shield to the face is all it took.]

No one would believe me if I told them how much repressed violence is hidden away under all that spandex. [But, damn, they might not have any better options.] I've still got repulsor power. I'll blast, you punch?

[She wouldn't call it repressed violence. Tho, he would probably be surprised at what she could hide under the spandex. Surprised and (hopefully) impressed.]

Sounds like a plan. [Flipping her shield back up into her hand, she nodded to Tony.]

[He would very much like to know what else she might have hidden under the spandex.]

I'll take the ones on the right, you take the ones on the left. First one out picks the movie next movie night!

[He dove into the fray of oncoming goons, repulsors working double time to lay them out as he steadily advanced down the hallway. Their comms had cut out abruptly mid op, telling him that their opposition had some sort of interference running and had figured out their comm frequency. That, plus the trap of goons that had been waiting for them once they advanced? Well, Tony was willing to bet there was a leak somewhere on their side. He'd find it once they got out.]

Gonna have to clean house once we get back into friendly territory, Cap.

[He plays his cards right and he might get to find out.]

How is a girl supposed to resist an offer like that? Get ready, Stark. Because next movie night? Is the night I finally get you to watch Gone with the Wind.

[And with that she's following, bearing to the left as she slams goon after goon with her shield -- leaving behind her a pile of unconscious HYDRA agents. Meeting back up again with Tony, she had to agree. There was no way this was all coincidence. The loss of communications, the ambush. No. The enemy had known they were coming. Someone had tipped them off.]

Looks like. [She knew it wasn't any of them. Or Fury. But what did they know about the other agents they worked with? Any one of them could have been a double agent.] And for the record? I won.

Wrong. Next movie night is the night I finally get you to watch Die Hard.

[The hallways wound around and doubled back on each other, a maze of concrete walls and ruined laboratories, but finally, finally, Tony pushed through a door and found sunlight waiting for them. Sunlight, and an end to whatever jamming frequency had been muting their comms. Abruptly, Tony's ear is filled with the concerned chatter of the rest of their team.] Sounds like everyone is fine-wait, what? How did you win? Is it opposite day? Because, you clearly lost.

I demand a rematch. [He gave a gesture back over his shoulder toward the complex, as if suggesting they should head back in and go again.]

[Die Hard. What was it with everyone and that movie? Try as she might, Stella just didn't get it. But it was fine, because she'd beat Tony and then he would see the glory that was Rhett Butler. Stella had had such a crush on him back in the day...on Clark Gable in general. They just didn't make them like that anymore.

Well...maybe they made a few like that. With a smirk, she ignored Tony's demands and started back towards the others and the waiting transport.] You should know by now, a lady never reveals her secrets. Now come on...the sooner we get home, the sooner we can wash all this away with a nice, hot shower.

I've had plenty of ladies reveal all sorts of secrets to me. [The slight leer in his smirk told all that anyone needed to know about the manner in which those secrets were coaxed out.] More than a few times in a nice, hot shower.

[He meandered after her toward the quinjet, cataloging the damage his suit had taken in the ambush. One of suit's knee joints had been damaged, making it difficult to move, and if he closed his faceplate he knew that he would only get static. It wasn't bad, would be easy to fix, but it did mean he would be riding the quinjet instead of flying straight back to the tower. The rest of the damage was superficial - a few dents and dings, here and there - and nothing to write home about.]

Hey Cap, what're you feeling for dinner? Thai, Mexican, Italian? We could branch out and try something new. Ethiopian?

Have you considered the fact that none of them were actual ladies? What is it Pepper used to say about 'taking out the trash'...? [She had heard quite a bit from Pep about Tony's romantic past. She had to say, some of her favorite stories were of how the redhead would throw them out the next morning.]

[Real ladies knew how to keep someone guessing. Kind of like what she did with you, Tony. The damage concerned Stella, but if Tony said he could fix it, then he could fix it. Plus, it was kind of nice having him on the jet with them. Moving over to sit beside him, she thought about his question.]

If I say Ethiopian, are we going to end up in Ethiopia.

Well, I know which sassy redhead in my life is getting a gag order for Christmas. For the record, I am deeply unsettled by you and Pep gossiping about me behind my back. [He knocks their shoulders together companionably, grinning. He obviously loves that they galpal and that he comes up at all.] We didn't end up in Japan the last time we got sushi, did we?

[It's not really an answer, and he knows it. He wouldn't mind whisking the Cap off to Ethiopia on a private jet, and would if she gave the slightest indication that she wanted to go - frankly, she (and the rest of the team) needs a vacation.]

[It's not. Just because they didn't do it last time, doesn't mean he won't do it this time. Besides, even though they didn't end up in Japan, it didn't mean they just went to the place down the block.] No. The last time we got sushi, you flew us back to Malibu so we could go to Nobu because apparently good sushi doesn't exist in New York?

Maybe I should request pizza and drag you to Brooklyn. No one does pizza like Brooklyn.

Okay, but my point still stands: we did not end up in Japan - and I thought you liked Malibu. [His grin slides into mischievous smirk territory, but his eyes are bright and fond.] You Brooklyn girls. Tell you what, doll, you pick anywhere in New York you want. We can even go dancing.

[Oh, Tony, no. She has a weakness for dancing. She used to love going to dance halls back before the war. No one except Buck every really asked her to dance, but she still loved it. The very suggestion brings a smile to her face and a little bit of pink to her cheeks.] Coney Island! I mean...I think there's still a dance hall on Coney Island. They do swing on the weekends...

You know...so I've heard...

[Tony laughs, feeling charmed and a little delighted. He selfishly wonders if there's any way he can sneak her out without the rest of the team tagging along, have her to himself for the night.] I guess I can suffer Coney Island for you. You gonna save a spot for me on your dance card, Captain?

[There's got to be some way to manage it; some moment when they'll all be distracted and then the two of them can slip away -- off to Brooklyn for the night.]

I'm sure I can find a spot or two to slide you into...

[He chokes on a surprised noise, eyes darkening a bit at the innuendo he reads into the words. Intentional or not, it does spark a mental image that's...powerful. He'll definitely be finding a way to give the team the slip.] Careful, Cap. Talk like that could give a guy ideas.

[For a moment she's confused by Tony's reaction. And his comment. But then it dawns on her...and as she realizes what she said, her face turns bright red.] What? No. I mean...I wasn't...not that I would particularly mind if you did, but that wasn't what...

[His eyes fill with interest.] What wouldn't you mind me doing, Miss Rogers? Getting ideas? [He turns his head, leaning in so his lips are nearly brushing her ear as he whispers:] Or sliding into a spot or two? [He knows he's crossing a line, but he's always crossing lines. Always pushing boundaries. Especially with her.]

Edited 2019-01-15 01:49 (UTC)

[Back before the war, she hadn't been all that great at flirting. And, to be honest, she still wasn't. She just didn't have the...well, she wasn't sure what. But there was something that Tony, Bucky, Nat had that she just...didn't.

Which made moments like this hard. In some alternate reality, she'd have a stunning response to Tony's questions. Something about how he should guess. But in reality, she found herself stammering. Come on, Rogers. Get it together.]

I...uh...

[Know what? Screw it. She was always better with action. Leaning forward, she pressed a kiss to Tony's lips. There. Hopefully that got the message across.]

[The stammering is sweet, it's why Tony does what Tony does. The endless flirting, the boundary pushing. He loves to make her stumble over her words and blush.

Only, now he's the one with cheeks tinged red in surprise. He isn't expecting her to kiss him, but it doesn't take him longer than a beat to get with the program. One gauntleted hand curls around the back of her neck with a gentleness that most wouldn't expect a weaponized robot suit to be capable of, keeping her close as he returns her kiss with gusto.

He ends the kiss by sucking her bottom lip between his, dragging his teeth over it before releasing it and leaning back.]

I think that makes the answer to my question a resounding both.

Seems like... [The words come out a bit breathless, the blonde working on re-catching her breath. With a small smile, she scoots closer to Tony, leaning against his armored torso.] How about when we get back, you join me in that shower?

[He casually drapes his arm along the back of the seat she's sitting in.] I would like that very much. [He's pleased, practically glowing.] But, don't think athletic shower sex is going to get you out of our date tonight.

[Looking at the mess in the kitchen, barely repressing a laugh]

I don't know, Stark. Think we may have to call a professional.

Captain America admitting defeat? [Tony tries to look shocked, concerned, dismayed.] Rogers, are you dying? JARVIS, he's dying. [The flat My condolences, Sir he receives in response is dry as the Sahara.]

[Steve laughs, tipping a small salute to the air where JARVIS lives. It is the air, right? Or should he be looking for some kind of sensor, or speaker? - never mind.]

When it comes to the two of us versus cake, I think the cake's winning, yeah. Unless you want to try a different recipe?

[The glare Tony shoots in the general direction of where he knows the nearest camera is -- well, if looks could kill it would be moderately uncomfortable and probably a bit itchy. He shouldn't have given JARVIS so much personality.]

I'm a genius and you're an All-American Hero. The cake shouldn't be winning. The cake should be begging us for mercy - it should be making itself. [His eyes narrow in consideration, critical gaze turning on the mixer and the destroyed counter. ] I could probably build a cake-making robot.

Plenty, none of which you'd enjoy. You wanna give me the damn wrench I asked for ten minutes ago?