Buffy meets Tony Stark. Disclaimer:
People other than me own anything recognizable.Word Count:
This is (hopefully) going to turn into a series of vignettes revolving around Tony and Buffy. Also, and this is important: I've never written Tony Stark. I'm not certain I captured his voice right, even though he is younger than the films. So constructive criticism would definitely help there.
She first met him when she was visiting her dad her first summer in Sunnydale. He wasn't that
much older than she was – five, eight years at most – but he was already garnering a lot of attention; and often in all the wrong ways. But they'd met in the age old Slayer way: Slayer sees hot older guy, Slayer dithers about saying hi because Slayer has a vamp boyfriend waiting for her to get back to the Hellmouth, Slayer decides 'what the hell? Can't hurt to make a new friend, and if he's yummy to look at, then go me!' and goes to talk. Nothing would come of it anyway. Then Slayer sees her nemesis, Vampire, trying to sneak up on salty goodness. Slayer bounces over in an over played yet always effective valley girl act.
“Hasn't anyone ever told you not to sneak up on your food?” she asked casually. Hot Guy and Vampire both looked at her; Hot Guy with a very confused expression, Vampire more annoyed before apparently deciding that he now an appetizer to go with his entree.
“Look at that; food that delivers itself!” was the not-so-witty reply. Buffy rolled her eyes before landing a solid punch to his chin.
“Sorry. I only deliver pain.”
Tony Stark was staring at the tiny girl who was fighting a guy that was nearly a head taller and had at least a hundred pounds on her... and winning
! The guy's face morphed into some hideous demonic visage, and Tony was too enthralled to even entertain the idea of leaving.
Buffy brushed herself off after staking the latest bloodsucker to see his intended prey still standing there. “Are you damaged?” she demanded.
“Excuse me?” the young man said, offended
“Totally damaged,” she muttered to herself. “Why else would you still be here after a vamp tried to make dinner out of you?”
“You piqued my interest,” he said.
“Okay,” she drew the word out in a skeptical manner, obviously doubting his sanity even more.
“How is it that you can fight like that? What was that thing? What did you do to it to make it go poof? It defies all
the laws of physics
...” he trailed off, his voice fading to a whisper as calculations and algorithms and formulae raced through his mind, vying for space with what he'd actually observed to be fact. He was brought back to his senses by the blonde, who was no longer using the peppy, bubble-gum blonde voice.
“Vampire. Wooden stake to the heart made him go poof. Vamps turn into dust if you kill them, and you can only kill them with a stake to the heart, beheading, fire or sunlight. Holy water and crosses work to make them back off enough so you can run, though.”
Tony assimilated this new information, already considering how to utilize various weapons to do the same thing that tiny girl had. Because he knew how much force was needed to push a wooden stick between ribs and into the heart. It was all calculable, and he knew he didn't have it. Yet. As soon as he got home he would begin a training regimen so that he would never be vulnerable to those monsters again.
“What else can you tell me?” he asked.
“You wanna know what goes bump in the night?” she questioned, disbelief writ in every line of her face.
“Wow. Most people don't bother, you know? They don't want to know, so they rationalize it all away as a trick of the light or choregraphed moves.” She appraised him again. There was more to this billionaire jet setter than he wanted the world to know. “How much time do you have?”
“Why don't I buy you dinner and you can tell me what you know?”