Chapter 9 - Dinner

                                    

                                          
"You were up in the tower by yourself?!" 
A frown flickers across the brow of Tony's beet-red face as he bursts into the kitchen, hands on his hips. You huff in irritation, slumping forward on the kitchen table and burying your head in your arms.
Damnit, Steve.
"Let it go, Tony," you grumble into your sleeves. "It's too early for this. And you're overreacting."
"I'm sorry, Miss Mumbles says what?" Tony seethes. "Because I know I did not just hear her tell me I'm overreacting. In my own kitchen."
You groan in annoyance, burying your face further into your arms. 
"Okay, that's it," Tony says angrily. "Up you go."
Confused, you start to peek an eye up over your arms when two metal hands suddenly grab you beneath your shoulders and haul you up into the air, keeping you hovering a few inches off the floor. 
"Damnit, Tony!" you shout as you kick your legs and squirm. But the grip of the Iron Man gloves beneath each arm tighten, and their thrusters engage further to lift you another inch off the ground. "Put me down!"
"No way, José," Tony frowns. "You and I are going to have a little - oh."
Tony falls silent, the caustic anger in his face softening as for the first time he sees the puffiness beneath your eyes. In the early morning light, it's easy to see the two bleak, sallow bags born from yet another sleepless night. A night spent tossing and turning with a single word echoing over and over again in your mind. 
Darling.
Tony flicks his wrist and nods, and the Iron Man gloves slowly disengage their thrusters, gently lowering you back to the ground before zipping off and away. But you stay rooted in place, glaring at Tony as the sharp edge of guilt and bitter waves of worry start seeping deep into your bones. Tony's eyes grow wide, and he holds up two gentle, coaxing hands in surrender.
"C'mon squirt," Tony says. "Power down, okay?"
You're confused for only a moment until you notice that Tony's worry has started to morph into wispy, black ribbons.
Fear?
 Your body goes cold as you realize that in your anger and exhaustion, you accidentally opened your Perception. You almost lost control. You haven't done that in a long time. 
Hands shaking, you close your eyes and take a few stumbling steps back as you carefully allow your Perception to close and your eye color to return. As you do, Tony sighs in equal measure relief and exasperation. 
"Can't do that to me, squirt," Tony frowns, grabbing an empty mug and pouring a cup of coffee. 
"You started it," you quip back.
Tony gives an indignant squawk as he walks over the mug and sets it down in front of you. "Look," he says. "Steve said he already had a talk with you. So even though I'm much more fun to listen to, I won't waste my precious words by being redundant. So all I'll say is...even if you do go up there alone, at least make sure one of us knows. Capiche?"
You scoff. "Sure, Tony," you snap. "I'll make sure to send up a smoke signal for Clint, wherever he is. Or I'll tap into field op comms to let Natasha and Steve know when they're out on a mission. Oh! Or maybe I'll interrupt you and Banner in the lab each time I need to go do my job," you seethe as Tony rolls his eyes. "You gave me an assignment, Tony," you plead. "So just let me go do it, okay?"
Tony eyes you skeptically. After an awkward, quiet minute passes, he reaches across the table and nudges your coffee mug closer to you. "You're cranky," he says.