Lady: First Fic in Fandom!

[fancy-galloway.livejournal.com]

Title: Lady
Author/Artist: Fancy_Galloway
Summary: Steve's not a complicated guy, Toni defies definition and has had an effect on Steve's decision-making skills.
Pairings/Characters: Steve/Toni
Word Count: 749
A/N: It's my first time in this fandom darlings, be gentle.
Universe: 3490/Movieverse
Rating: PG ('cause Toni's got a potty mouth)
Warnings: uh...this was done at 0230 sans Beta because I really should be working on my thingathon for EMH, writing my actual thesis or preping for teaching naval history to teenagers tomorrow and needed to get something (hopefully positive) out into the universe.
Beta: I'd love to write more in this universe.  If anyone wants to be my Beta please volunteer!  If not I'll start hunting for one tomorrow.

 

Back where (when?) Steve comes from a lady wears skirts unless she really can’t, and nylons and sensible heels. She curls her hair just so and paints her lips and eyes and plays hard to get and rarely, if ever, curses.

By this definition Toni Stark is most definitely not a lady.

Her skirts—when she has to wear them or sees the advantage of showing some leg—are always too short. Her heels are always about two inches too tall for whatever situation she’s in—she’s got a thing about her height which explains a lot about the armor.

She’s started wearing thigh-highs just to tease him and tempt his nostalgia. He’s sure of this. No other reason a woman would wear thigh-highs with skirts that short.

Her hair is cut so short she couldn’t curl it if she tried. Jan calls it a pixie-cut and says it’s all the rage.

She wears dark lipstick that flatters her complexion and of course she’s obsessed with red. Her eyes are always smoky and dark and smudged.

She curses like a drunken sailor, with a temper, serving with Nick Fury, in a Russian winter.

She’s spread across magazine covers looking like sex-on-legs that can do calculus in her head while fixing your carburetor.

The guys on the helicarrier have her Rolling Stone photo shoot taped up in the locker room. He doesn’t look at it because a) he’s seen her in less b) he doesn’t need to have her staring him down while he’s changing c) he doesn’t want to get angry and tear it down like he did the MAXIM, ‘cause goddamnit guys she’s talking about Arc Reactor Technology so stop staring at her cleavage.

He still gets picked on by Clint and Nick for trying to defend the virtue of a woman who hasn’t had any since she was 15.

It’s easy to forget Rolling Stone (and the extra tight Captain-America-Is-My-Homeboy shirt she’s wearing in it) when it’s just them and JARVIS and the ‘bots in Malibu. It’s easy to forget because she’s wearing grease-stained baggy jeans that hang real low because at some point he’s pretty sure they belonged to Rhodey, and a tight-once-was-white tank that shows her arc reactor and her sports bra.

Her hair is sticking up in all directions around the goggles she’s using as a headband and her eyeliner of a day ago makes her look like a raccoon.

She’s ranting about Reed Richards and thermodynamics and is threatening to donate Butterfingers to some little league as a pitching machine.

She’s used the ‘F’ word 47 times in the space of 17 minutes and he thinks that might be a record.

He decides he’s going to marry her around number 62 when she’s got grease on her nose and she’s making disparaging remarks about Reed’s parentage and Steve has zoned out enough to think it’d be mighty boring to be married to Sue Storm whose not as much of a genius as Toni but certainly more of a lady.

He knows he’s officially had way too many weekends ‘hanging in the garage’ when that thought seems to naturally leap to his now being able to justify ripping down that damn magazine in the ‘carrier. Toni-Logic also leads to this meaning he might be allowed to deck Bill O’Reilly for the things he says about Iron Woman and Stark Industries.

Honestly, journalism these days.

Toni’s rant is now accompanied by pacing and her heavy boots stomp ungracefully along with her.

His mother would have passed out from shock if he’d brought Toni home back in the day.

He realizes he’s said this out loud when it finally registers that she’s stopped stomping and is staring at him with the same dumbfounded look she might give Paris Hilton if she started spouting off string theory.

“What!?” she asks incredulously and it occurs to him that deciding to marry a girl because she’s cursed 62 times in the space of 22 minutes and is too smart to wash off her own make-up is another thing that would have made his mother faint.

 “I’d have taken you home by now.” He explains as best he can, “Introduced you to my mother.”

Toni’s expression switches to that of absolute horror and asks “Why the fuck would you have done that?”

The same reason he rips down MAXIM magazines and wants to throttle pundits.

“You’re my lady. And that’s what you do.”

He’d just have to make a new definition.