Saving Tony (Tony Stark x Reader)

Chapter 39 - Lab Fires and Steak Dinners

"Hey, hon, hand me the z-modeler," calls out Tony.

"Uhhhh."

"It's in the name, sweetheart," chides Tony.

You purse your lips at his tone - bordering on condescension - and narrow your eyes at his turned back before retreating to the nearest workbench. You glance around, your eyes skimming over the plethora of tools and trinkets cluttering the space. You reach for a silver looking wrench shaped like an "x", because "x" is close to "z", right? 

Stepping up beside Tony, he holds out his hand, never taking his eyes off the metal piece he holds in place on the side of Rhodey's leg brace. You place the wrench in his palm, but immediately he looks over at the metal gadget, then up at you, arching a single brow.

"Let me ask you something, Doc," he says, angling his chin to look back at you. "Out of all the tools on that desk, why did you bring me the only one that looks the least like the letter z? What is this, a day care? Do we need to review the alphabet?"

You scoff and roll your eyes. "You're going to have to be a little more specific when you ask me to hand you things, Tony. You've got too many toys. How am I supposed to know which one you want to play with?"

Tony grumbles under his breath and sets down the wrench and the brace, grabbing you by your hips and kissing your cheek before guiding you back over to the same bench from where you had picked up the wrench.

"Try again," he says. "Key word: Z-modeler."

You furrow your brow and scan the tools one more time. But they of all look the same. Except for...

"Oh man," you groan, smacking your forehead.

Tony hums in amusement and rests his chin atop your head. "Figured it out, huh, smarty pants?"

"Shut up Tony," you growl, reaching for a tool at the top right of the table. It looks like a welding torch, and much to your chagrin a bright silver "Z" is stamped on its navy blue handle.

Tony laughs and nuzzles your neck affectionately. You turn and hand him the welding gun.

"Go stand over there," he says, pointing over towards the wall of Iron Man suits in the distance as he moves back towards the leg braces.

"Why?" you ask, ignoring him as you tag along behind.

"Because I asked you to," he replies, taking a seat and pulling down a large magnifying glass under which he carefully positions the leg brace.

"Wrong answer. Try again," you demand, crossing your arms.

Tony spins around in his chair as he drops a welding mask down over his eyes, his voice echoing behind the metal. "My lab, my rules Doc."