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darsynia · 2 years ago

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Modern Mythology | Ch2

(Tony Stark/OC; soulmate AU pre-Ultron, in 3 parts)

image from peakpx.com | gif from @marveladdicts

Summary: Abigail Carson takes a chance on a second job as a courier in the hopes that it’ll help her find her soulmate, whose words on her skin imply that he’s signing for a package she delivers. When she hears the words spoken by Tony Stark, though, Abbi has second thoughts. She’s practically a nobody!

Length: 4,678

MY MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

Taglist: @starryeyes2000 @raith-way @arrthurpendragon, @starksbf

Excerpt:

Abbi wrote, ‘Waiting???’ and held it up.

Stark’s expression sobered. “Fair point. I fought it first too, you might say. I liked what I had, but it wasn’t right, you know? You know.”

She did know, and his arguments were persuasive. They were also frightening. The whole idea of entering this man’s world was intimidating. Overcome, Abbi turned toward the high counter of the receptionist’s welcome area, crossed her arms on the surface, and dropped her head onto them.

Stark took the pen out of her hand before she could stop him. She let out a frustrated noise.

“You’re acting like I’m going to drag you up to the penthouse and turn it into a sex dungeon when you finally do say something to me. That’s not how it works, you know that, right? You say them, we get to know each other.” Abbi felt a gentle nudge on her shoulder and lifted her head to see that he was leaning beside her, less than an inch away. “I wouldn’t say no to the sex dungeon, mind you.”

Chapter Two: Seeds of Doubt and Hope

Abbi got another summons to Courier and Ives the following day. She was tempted not to go, certain that Stark was summoning her back like a liege lord whose chattel had not performed according to expectations. Somewhere deep down, though, she knew that assessment was unfair.

Soulmates were a fixture of human romantic life. Countless songs, movies, and television shows revolved around the drama of discovering one’s soulmate, sometimes resisting one’s soulmate, but finally, always, capitulating to fate. She had always really loved those kinds of stories, never realizing she’d be living one. The problem for Abbi was whether or not the words she’d heard were coincidentally the same as her soulmark or not. There were shows about that, too.

After dithering all morning about whether she ought to show up at the courier office, Abbi finally decided to go anyway. Her compromise was that she absolutely would not mention soulmates unless it came up because Stark did.

Mrs. Walsingham’s attitude was expansive and coy. “Your delivery was a hit, yesterday! You’ve got another package to drop off for Stark personally, and another box of illegal cigars-- I mean, excuse me,” the older woman coughed as if she’d swallowed a frog for ten whole seconds. “Another box of exotic tea for Mr. Michaels in the building across the street from the tower.”

“Is there a chance you would give these to Minthe?” Abbi asked with genuine hope in her voice.

“Young lady, the son of Howard Godblesshim Stark phoned me up personally, described you in very admiring terms, asked what your name was, and requested you and only you to deliver this item. If you don’t go I may have to exercise my ‘damaging the business’ clause in our contract!” The poor woman’s face was nearly as purple in the face as her favorite color, which today was streaked through her blouse and matching skirt as well as the jewelry.

“Yes ma’am,” Abbi said resignedly. “Can I have a second clipboard? Mine was… mislaid.”

“He said them, didn’t he?” Mrs. Walsingham asked shrewdly.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about!” Abbi told her, and fled as soon as she was given the replacement clipboard. One of the packages was moderately heavy, almost flat, and rectangular, and the other was lightweight and square.

The woman at the front desk did not let her leave the package, but directed her to the penthouse. Abbi flatly refused, saying it was inappropriate. She was directed to wait in the lobby.

Guessing that she might be waylaid, she pulled out her phone and called in to her paralegal job, notifying them that she might be back late. She had plenty of PTO hours, and both her boss and grand-boss knew about the side job (the magic of soulmarks, again). Something told her that Stark was going to try to wait her out, but he would be sorely mistaken if he thought she couldn’t sit quietly. After ten minutes of Abbi doing just that, her hands on top of the two packages in her lap, she saw that the front desk person was looking her way and speaking on the phone.

Two minutes later, she heard a now-familiar voice. “You really want to do this here, in front of witnesses?”

It was a shame she hadn’t opted for an elective procedure to wire her jaw shut, just to see the look on the man’s face, Abbi thought. She didn’t say that, though. She just stood up and held out the square package, sitting on the clipboard, on which she’d already written a note.

‘You don’t know me. I don’t know you. Sign the page, and we’ll both get on with our lives.’

Stark was wearing a suit today. He looked fantastic. Abbi resented herself for even thinking it, because liking him in any way was just going to make the whole situation harder. He held up the clipboard, facing her.

“I’m not the one preventing us from getting on with our lives. Our collective life.”

She snatched the clipboard away with a swift move he clearly hadn’t anticipated, backed away directly beside two tourists who were staring at both of them with wide eyes, and wrote out a new message under the first one.

‘Prove I’m your soulmate, then. Before I say anything.’

Abbi held up the clipboard for him to read. To her consternation, the words she’d written made Stark smile with an expression of absolute delight.

“You’re on,” he said. “One moment.”

He stepped away to use his phone, and Abbi frowned. She still had a second delivery! In frustration, she went back to her chair, where she’d left the second package, the ‘tea’ she had to deliver across the street. If Stark thought he could keep her waiting while he held a phone conversation, he was wrong. He might be a handsome billionaire, but she had to work for a living.

Her conscience pointed out that he’d probably designed enough patents to live off of the proceeds for the rest of his life, regardless of inheritance of business proceeds. Then her mother-conscience added that it seemed like Abbi was just scared of change. She agreed with both assessments.

Just as Abbi was about to grab the second package, though, Happy Hogan walked up from just a few feet away and blocked her movement.

“Fancy seeing you again,” he said with an easy grin.

“Your boss likes to throw his influence around to get what he wants, and I’m the low woman on the totem pole,” she said in irritation.

“Turns out that’s part of your job description. The promotional materials for Courier and Ives encourages clients to bond with their courier.”

“It says bond?” Abbi asked in surprise.

“It actually does, look,” Hogan said, holding up his phone. She walked closer to read what it said, and saw him look over her shoulder, nod, and then refocus on her.

“What was--” Abbi turned around and saw that Stark was standing there, off the phone, finally. He was holding the package she needed.

“Sorry to keep you,” he said. The words sounded sincere, but Abbi felt like there was absolutely something suspicious between the two men. With no proof, though, she was happy to get on her way. Pointedly turning her back on Stark, she spoke to Hogan.

“Mr. Hogan, it was nice to meet you twice. Have a lovely life.”

“I’ll wish you the very same thing,” Hogan said with a broad smile. There was an obvious double meaning to it, but she decided to let that slide now that she could be on her way.

She’d have to quit the courier job, but that was just the way it had to go. Even if it was just a bit tempting to wonder what a life as someone like Stark’s soulmate would be. He had clearly lived a full life without one, and with his wealth, he’d be able to do so again. In her mind, Abbi went over all of the reasons why inserting herself into Tony Stark’s life would be a bad idea. It was a long list, full of things like ‘mom would be pretty stressed out,’ ‘Stark’s well known for liking flashy, experienced women, which I am absolutely not,’ and one of the most important ones, ‘I hate the idea of acquiescing to ‘fate’ as if I didn’t have any choice in the matter!’

Her second delivery went as normal. The executive it was meant for accepted it graciously, his anticipation clear. She could hear him ripping open the white paper it was wrapped in even before her hand touched the doorknob of his office.

“Young lady?”

Abbi turned. “Yes, sir?”

“I’m sorry to say, this is not mine.” The executive held up a silk tie emblazoned with the Iron Man helmet.

“That absolute sneaky bastard!” she exclaimed. The next second, she was mortified . “Oh, Lord, I’m so sorry!”

“You came here after Stark? I tell you what, I’ll keep them. Go get the real one, tell him he can bill me for these.”

Abbi’s heart rate was still going strong. She knew her face had to be beet red. “Are you sure? This is the height of unprofessional, I--”

“I have a feeling it was on purpose. Not your fault he’s got a bit of the imp in him.”

Abbi’s feet hurt from how much force she’d put in every step by the time she walked back into the lobby of Stark’s building. Sure enough, he and Hogan were waiting in the pair of chairs she’d been seated at. The rest of the lobby was cleared of people, which also didn’t seem much of a coincidence.

“Hogan!” Abbi called out. She wanted to lay into Stark, but there was some part of her that was afraid of marking him with words she might regret. “You’ve been conscripted. A Mr. Michaels would very much like his box, please.”

Hogan held it up, and she glared at him. “For a good cause! I’ll head over.”

“Didn’t think that through, Abbi,” Stark said. His use of her name made her stop short and lay a hand on the nearest piece of furniture to steady herself. She saw him coming toward her, both hands casually resting in his pants pockets. “There’s no one else in here to address your comments to. You don’t happen to know ASL, do you? Now that would be an interesting soulmark.”

There was something so gentle in his eyes. It sparked a flurry of excitement in her chest, as if something inside her recognized it was Tony Stark fighting for their possible future. The problem was it was such an impossible future that she couldn’t understand how he couldn’t see that.

He’d also forgotten something. Abbi pulled the clipboard out of her inner jacket pocket and held it up. She wrote something on it so quickly that he didn’t get the chance to take it from her, even though he’d started walking over the second he saw it.

‘What will happen when I DO say something and they aren’t your words?’

“Not possible,” Stark said, confidence personified.

Abbi rolled her eyes and started to write something else, but Stark snatched the clipboard out of her hands and tucked it into his back pocket.

“Say them.”

She shook her head.

“Abigail Carson. Daughter of Demaria and Atticus Carson. Ambitious, fun-loving mother, practical, dutiful father. Honors student in high school, attended NYU for a pre-law degree, one year of law school Syracuse University before putting education on hold to care for your mother after the one-two punch of a cancer diagnosis and losing your father to a heart attack. Started work at a law firm in the interim, and moved in with your mother when the cancer recurred,” he recited, pacing in a tight circle in front of her. “Hardworking, dedicated, impulsive to a point, needs to let loose.” At this, he spread his arms out as if to suggest that a relationship with him might help with that.

Abbi wanted to ask what the point was of reciting some personal information he snooped around to find, but she wasn’t going to say something to him without thinking it through first, no matter how much he goaded her to do so.

“Anthony Stark. Son of Howard and Maria Stark. Ambitious, fun-loving father, practical, dutiful mother. Honors student in high school, multiple doctorates from MIT by his late teens, before I put more education on hold to care for my company at age 21, when my parents were killed in a car accident. Impulsive, dedicated, hardworking to a point, needs someone to ground him. That’s you,” he said, pointing at Abbi. “You wanted me to prove you’re my soulmate before you say anything? Who else would fight it this much?” He gestured to the lobby windows, where there was a small crowd speaking to the receptionist Abbi had seen earlier. “There are any number of women who would be desperate for this chance, not that I’m interested in any of them.”

He’d been walking in wider and wider circles, coming closer and closer to her. She took off her shoes, and when he turned to circle back around after saying that, Abbi pulled the clipboard free of his back pocket and ran to the other side of the free-standing arc of the receptionist’s welcome area in the lobby so she could write out another message.

“You little sneak! I love it,” Stark said, chasing after her.

All Abbi managed to write before he snatched it back was, ‘It’s been one whole day, chill.’

“When you’ve been waiting over ten years for someone, a whole day is a long time,” he said after reading it. He tucked the clipboard into his pants this time, waggling his eyebrows at her.

The pen worked on her hand, so Abbi wrote, ‘Waiting???’ and held it up.

Stark’s expression sobered. “Fair point. I fought it first too, you might say. I liked what I had, but it wasn’t right, you know? You know.”

Stark took the pen out of her hand before she could stop him. She let out a frustrated noise.

She tried to glare at him, but his personal magnetism seemed to be perfectly attuned to attract her, and she smiled begrudgingly, shaking her head ‘no.’

“Worth a shot.” He pulled something out of his pocket and set it on the counter beside her arm. She had to shift positions to see what it was.

When she looked, Abbi glanced quickly up at Stark.

“I have a whole package of these, I didn’t, like, get some loose out of a vending machine and let them collect pocket lint before offering them to you,” he assured her, holding up a plastic package with the Runts logo on them. Stark pulled out a banana one and popped it in his mouth, crunching down on it immediately.

He’d made the same mistake with the pen as he had with the clipboard, and Abbi grabbed it from his breast pocket, writing ‘Chewing???? HEATHEN’ on an unmarked part of her hand.

This just made him grin at her, sticking a second banana one in his mouth and capturing it in his teeth to wag it at her a bit. They were standing so close that she could smell the banana flavoring on his breath. The intimacy of that was a bit stunning for Abbi. Was this really her life? Standing in a lobby that should be teeming with people, desperately resisting making a move that would change her life forever, while this man who should have no vested interest in her whatsoever gently coaxed her into doing it?

Was it working? She felt less certain about her convictions now than she had when she’d walked in there.

“Uh oh, you’re thinking again. Quick, eat one.”

Because she still had the pen, Abbi wrote on the back of her hand, near her thumb.

‘You called me Iris, not Persephone.’

Stark rolled his eyes in mock ecstasy and leaned over, his spicy aftershave and banana breath taking over her senses, stand-ins for the reasons to speak and the reasons to stay silent. Being his soulmate would be bananas. “Smart women are so hot. Eat them and say it, Abbi. Come down to hell with me, help keep me warm.”

It would serve this infuriating, ridiculous man if she said what she was thinking right now. Wasn’t hell already warm? She wouldn’t put it past him to say something like that just to get her to correct him, but he had said earlier that he wasn’t interested in being marked with Greek mythology soulmark words.

Just to show him that she wasn’t afraid to compare him with Hades, Abbi grabbed the three Runts (none of them were banana, her favorite, but she suspected they were his favorite too. They were everyone’s favorite) and popped them in her mouth.

“Tell you what. I don’t want to wait another day,” Stark said enigmatically. “Here. Write one more thing. Final argument.” He handed her back the clipboard, which was warm from his body heat. His rich brown eyes challenged her, and Abbi felt like it really was her last chance to persuade him and herself. She could feel the tingles of excitement that spread every time their eyes met, could sense that she was giving in.

‘A fish may love a bird, but where would they live? You deserve someone from your world.’

When Abbi held up the clipboard, the slow, triumphant smile that grew on Tony Stark’s face made her fall for him just a little. It was just so confident, the exact opposite of what she had expected, that she was completely helpless to defend against him.

“Do you know how many women try to catch my eye? And here you are, fighting fate with all your might. I don’t remember the last time I was faced with the idea of having to woo someone. It’s a truly unique experience. Thank you for that.” He leaned his elbow on the counter, plopped his head onto his hand, and asked, “So, do you like flowers? Chocolates? A robot of your very own?”

She picked up the pen to scrawl out that he had completely missed her point, but before she could write anything, he took the clipboard again.

Abbi was so frustrated she said everything she was thinking.

“Look, I was just trying to do my job, but then you stole my cab, you stole my next delivery, you stole my pen, and you stole my clipboard four separate times, all so I’d HAVE to speak to you, so fine, I give up, here are the words you’re so desperate for!”

“Yes!” he said, and before Abbi could process that she’d said that all out loud, Stark had leaned over and kissed her very lightly and gently, pulling back to gauge her reaction.

“What--” she said, her lips tingling from the contact. A warm feeling of anticipation and pleasure had flared up in her gut. His reaction confirmed her fear and perhaps secret hope: she was definitely Tony Stark’s soulmate.

“Your words were a schematic to follow. I was probably supposed to let that happen over the course of a couple of weeks, but I’m me,” he said, grinning.

“But that was a whole paragraph!” Abbi said, aghast.

“I did goad you,” he said.

“Stark--”

“Tony,” he corrected. “Nothing has to change right away, Persephone.”

“I only ate three, she ate six, it’s a flawed comparison,” Abbi said distractedly. “Do you really have that whole thing written on your body somewhere? Why on Earth would you try to get me to say that?”

“Oh yes, it’s the number of seeds in dispute, not the idea that I’m the God of the underworld,” Tony said with deep sarcasm. Abbi’s face flared with a blush as she recognized exactly how much she found that unexpectedly attractive. “And, are you kidding? I just had to follow your instructions and be myself. Your words were very helpful that way.”

Abbi looked at him and saw that the vulnerability she’d seen before was still present. She wondered if he thought she’d still reject him. It happened-- there were people whose soulmates were too deep into addiction or destructive behavior, and they’d left, rather than watch their other half tear themselves into smaller pieces that couldn’t be repaired. Pepper Potts had left Tony Stark for much the same reason, and she’d been with him in various capacities for over ten years. The fact that she wasn’t his actual soulmate probably hadn’t made their break-up any less excruciating.

Something at the back of her mind was pinging for her attention, and as Tony’s phone rang and he answered it, she tried to find out what it was. When she realized, Abbi gasped.

“What?”

“You let me hand you things! You let me hand you multiple things! You don’t even know me!”

“Yes, you can open it back up. We’re going to. Yeah,” Tony said on the phone. He took her hand, rested it on his arm, and led her over to the elevator. “I need to open my building back up.” She let him lead her inside a car, still focused on the thing she’d realized.

“You don’t like being handed things. It’s in all the articles.” Abbi couldn’t let it go.

“Would it make more sense if I told you that Violet Walsingham is a family friend?” Tony asked. He took off his suit jacket and draped it over his arm, and started to pull his dress shirt out from where it was tucked into his trousers.

She backed away from him up against the elevator wall, suddenly frightened. What if this was how he picked up women nowadays? Getting her boss to tell him what to tell each courier! “Did she tell you my soulmark? What are you doing?”

“My soulmark is on my back. Violet did not tell me yours.” He turned his back on her and pulled the shirt up. “You’ll have to tug it up, it’s a bit tight.”

“Whose fault is that,” she couldn’t help but say, but Abbi reached out and lifted the shirt, only because she could see the final few words. They were in her handwriting. The whole paragraph was there. She wanted to touch them. She wanted to run away and never come back. She wanted to figure out what to do. As excited as she was about finding her soulmate, and finding out it was someone like Tony, it was intimidating as hell.

The elevator opened, and Abbi dropped the shirt like it was on fire. Tony chuckled and ushered her out. It was a living room, but the outside walls were windows, with an amazing view of New York.

“Wow,” she breathed.

“Violet found out I hadn’t discovered who my soulmate was, and once she got it out of me how specific my soulmark was, she decided to ‘help,’” Tony told her, gesturing for her to move farther into the room so she could see the view from up close. “She incorporated clipboards, only hired young, beautiful women from good backgrounds.”

“That’s sneaky. I shouldn’t reward either of you for that,” Abbi said, spinning around to look at him. He was unbuttoning his dress shirt, which made her widen her eyes even more, but she was mollified when he held up a t-shirt, implying he was just going to switch them.

“So how many employees of Courier and Ives have you met, then?” she asked, biting her lip.

“Thirty? Forty?” He shrugged.

“What?”

The elevator dinged, and Abbi looked over from Tony’s honest, direct expression to see that Happy Hogan was walking toward her, carrying her shoes.

“He let me hand him things,” she told Hogan.

“Yeah. He knew. So did I.”

“Your confidence is intimidating,” she griped, taking her shoes.

“That’s what makes you charming,” Hogan quipped, waving before heading back into the elevator.

Abbi noticed she was standing near a couch and let herself fall into it. “I don’t--”

“You want to go back to work? I can drive you,” Tony said. He came over and sat a respectful distance away. He looked less intimidating wearing the Iron Maiden shirt he’d changed into while she was talking to his buddy, but she was still barely coping. “As long as you come back.”

Then, another thought struck her. “Did you pay her?”

“Violet? No.” He scooted closer to her. “She got a successful, reputable business out of all of this. I doubt she’ll close up just because I found you.”

“You know all of this is insane, right?”

“So make it sane for me, Abigail,” Tony said. “What would do that?”

“Your phone number? A date, maybe? A primer on the uber rich?” she laughed. “I-- I think I could like you. I’m attracted. I don’t know if I feel some instant, powerful connection, but I don’t know how it’s supposed to work.”

“I can work with attracted,” Tony said warmly. “I can get you a phone--”

“Aht!” Abbi said, closing her fingers in on her thumb in a ‘stop’ gesture. “I have a phone. I want your number. I won’t share it with anyone.”

“Yes, Miss Granger,” Tony rolled his eyes. He put his phone number into her phone, and when she got it back, his contact was named ‘Soulron Man’ with emoji hearts surrounding the words.

“Does that mean I get to put myself into your phone?” she asked, wishing she could get used to the feeling that she was walking along a knife-edge ridge high in the Himalayas. At any moment something she said, did, or thought to herself could push her tumbling over into one valley or another.

“That’s a big step, honeybuns, are you sure you’re ready for it?” His eyes were practically begging her to object to the nickname.

“I-- can I go home? I took PTO for the rest of the day,” Abbi asked cautiously.

“Absolutely. Can I drive you?”

“To show off your restraint or your fancy cars?”

“Yes.”

The fancy car was a convertible, and Tony kept his hands to himself the entire ride. Abbi found herself relaxing just a bit around him, which was both a welcome relief and a trigger for more anxiety. Their conversation revolved around their parents, oddly enough, but when he pulled up to her apartment complex, he turned toward her with a serious expression on his face.

“Look, I’m a mess. It’s well documented. If you’re going to be a mess too, we’re going to have to work out some sort of custody arrangement.”

Despite herself, Abbi laughed. “Ironically, my mess is probably the polar opposite of yours? I feel deeply inadequate.”

“Having a paragraph of frustration etched into my back in your handwriting doesn’t encourage you even a little bit?” he asked. Abbi frowned. “No, wait--” he said, reaching out and grabbing her hand to squeeze it. “That made you feel anxious about what it says, didn’t it?”

She nodded.

“This is irony, that’s what this is. I have no experience with inadequacy.”

Abbi couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing. “Maybe we’re supposed to even each other out?”

“That… might actually make sense. So, dinner tomorrow? I pick you up here?” His thumb brushed across the top of her hand. It felt like a gentle knock on the door of her heart, and for the first time since she’d heard his first words to her, Abbi felt like she might be up for answering it.

Tony kissed her hand before she went inside. The sizzle of his lips against her skin made Abbi wonder how long their physical compromises would survive the tension that was starting to grow between them.

Her mother was asleep for an afternoon nap when she got inside. As carefully as she could, Abbi snuck into her room and spent the rest of the day completely unable to focus on anything. Taking PTO had been a really good idea.

She went to sleep that night with her heart full of possibilities and only a few concerns. They were big concerns, but they might not be as insurmountable as she’d initially thought.

Next chapter, Abbi goes on the most momentous first date anyone could possibly have, and the two of them bond through shared trauma.

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