Vogue | Tony Stark

FIFTY EIGHT - MEMORIES

"Wanna grab lunch? I could devour a steak sandwich right about now."

Tony was stood in the kitchen with his head buried in the screen of his laptop, working from the kitchen counter on something that Esté didn't understand. Sure, he might not have been away fighting things that most people wouldn't believe were real, but that didn't stop him from continuing to prepare in case he ever needed to again.

Esté had just returned from a hot yoga class with Katy and Alicia. It was snowing outside and the cold air was welcoming to her after working up a sweat in the studio, a long walk home feeling like a reward rather than another workout.

She showered and changed before coming downstairs with her hair slicked back in a pony tail and a bare face, dressed in grey jeans and a white tank top, the necklace Tony's parents had bought for her sitting prettily on her chest.

"I can't, actually," she said, pouring herself a glass of water and downing it in a few gulps, "I have a, a thing I have to get to."

"A thing?" Tony's interest peaked then and he turned away from his laptop, "What thing?"

"It's nothing, don't worry about it. It's not work, it's just a...thing."

Tony tilted his head, a questioning gaze directed towards her, "You can tell me if it's work, honey. I never expected you to take this long off."

Esté sighed with a slump of her shoulders. She didn't like lying to Tony, and although she wasn't technically lying, not telling him the full truth made her skin burn and stomach turn, an innate urge inside of her to never be anything but honest with him.

Tony had been having suspicions that Esté was slowly easing herself back into work. She'd often sit upstairs on her laptop for an hour in the evening and disappear to answer phone calls every now and again, never telling him what they were about.

He didn't ask, of course, not wanting to pry. Tony knew by then that if Estélla wanted him to know something, she would tell him, only her nondescript answer to his question forced him to press a little bit harder that morning.

"It's not work, honestly."

"Then what is it?"

She chewed nervously on her bottom lip, brows knitted together as she stood with her hands resting on the kitchen counter behind her, tapping her nails on the work surface as her eyes squinted and shoulders curled inwards.

"I've bought a house."

Tony stared at her for a long moment, her answer being nowhere near as dramatic as he was expecting, nor was it worthy of the tiptoeing around the subject that Esté had been careful to do.

"Alright, why couldn't you have just told me that?"

"Because," she sighed again and threw her head back, "It's my house, my old house. The one I used to live in as a kid on the Upper East Side."

"Wait, you've bought your old place?" His face lifted and tone matched inquisitively.

Esté just nodded, "It came on the market a few weeks ago and when I saw it I...I just had to buy it. Do you think I'm crazy?"

Tony laughed, shaking his head as he pulled her into a hug, swaying side to side with her in his arms, "No, I don't think you're crazy."

"Really?" She looked up at him with big blue eyes, so hopeful for reassurance.

"Really."

She smiled, "Will you come with me to pick up the keys? We can grab a steak sandwich on the way."