snowdarkred

Title: Couch Therapy
Author:

snowdarkred
Word Count: 500
Pairings: Stephanie Rogers/Antonia Stark (AKA I can't resist genderswap.)
Rating/Warnings: PG, swearing.
Author's Note: I took a break from my Sherlock magic!AU and part two of the Iron Man/Cap America teen!AU to write this, because my brain needed a break. So here you go. 500 words of pre-femslashy fluff.

Summary: "I hate charity galas. Can't I just give the damn money without prostituting myself for the cameras?"

Couch Therapy

“Motherfucker,” Tony groaned as she collapsed on top of the couch. “I hate charity galas. Can't I just give the damn money without prostituting myself for the cameras? There's no point.”

Stephanie Rogers looked up from her sketchbook. “Went that well?”

“You have no idea,” Tony sighed. She was still wearing the sleek red dress Jan had designed for her, classic and tasteful that covered her numerous scars. Formal dresses these days seemed to involve more skin than cloth, but Antonia Stark couldn't risk showing the world just how capable her weapons had been. It was always a struggle to find something that wouldn't look horribly dated or hideous but would still hide what needed to be hid.

Stephanie put aside her pencils and rearranged herself on the armchair. Her eyes traveled the expanse of smooth silk and the muscles it clung to. Her hands itched to snatch her art supplies back and get to drawing.

“Tell me about it,” she said instead. It was always better to let Tony rant for a bit after one of these. If you didn't, it just simmered under the surface until she exploded, usually in the face of some over aggressive paparazzo with a microphone. Pepper had benched Tony from all social functions for a month over that.

Tony didn't hesitate to launch into a rendition of why Everyone In The Business World Today Is Full Of Massive Amounts Of Stupid, and how they all needed to Quit Playing High School. Stephanie watched as her friend flailed against the cushions, one heel still on and one leg thrown casually over the back of the couch. She was truly a sight to behold.

“And then, I shit you not, she turns to me and says, But Ms. Stark, I thought you were into that sort of thing.” Tony snorted. “And then there's this awkward pause where everyone tries not to think of the big red dyke in the room.”

Stephanie blinked, realizing that she had lost track of what her friend was saying. “Erm. Sounds awful.”

“It was!” Tony yelled helplessly. She sank further into the couch cushions, one hand held dramatically to her forehead. “If only Pepper hadn't sworn off going to these stupid things with me after that time Christine Everhart accidentally-on-purpose spilled wine on her dress in a fit of jealous rage.” Tony paused. “Also, there was that thing with the coffee, but that was a strange coincidence, I swear.”

“Tony, if you need someone to go with you, you could just take me,” Stephanie suggested before she could think it through. Oops. She was so doomed.

Tony brightened immediately. “Would you? That'd be fantastic. Can't bitch at me when Captain fucking America is standing right there. Well, I'm sure some will try, but they always do. Awesome.” She smiled at Stephanie. “Thanks.”

Stephanie felt her heart flutter. “No problem.”

This was going to be fun.