Serious Trek 3: The Search for Beta
Jun. 11th, 2008 04:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seriousficI've written a Spider-Man/Iron Man crossover fic, slightly over four thousand words, that's just itching for a beta. It's Iron Man movieverse and Spectacular Spider-Man toonverse (in case you aren't watching, :(, picture a mix of Ultimate Spider-Man, Lee/Dikto, the movies, and lots of CAPS LOCK!) and very gen, although with some (predominantly Peter/Felicia) shippiness. Sample under the cut.
“They let me keep the ball,” Tony said, smugly tossing up the first baseball ever to see play in the new Yankee Stadium for Pepper to see.
They were in the new Monument Park, under the Batter’s Eye Restaurant which was providing the free meal. Tony would’ve found it as stuffy as any other museum, only an obsolete Iron Man glove (damaged while punching the Titanium Man through, oops, the bleachers of the new stadium) was in a display with some famous catcher’s mitts. Tony was still slightly worried… not that someone would steal it, but that a thief would set off the proprietary self-destruct. He probably hadn’t used enough gunpowder… ah, well, having the only monument capable of making like a Michael Bay movie was pretty cool on its own.
“You think we should start a collection?” he continued. “First football of the Superbowl, first soccer ball of the World Cup. Could be fun.”
“You hate soccer.”
“We’ll skip that.”
Pepper rolled her eyes and made room in her purse for the baseball. She was wearing a conservative skirt-suit, having decided that for her, dresses and Tony Stark didn’t mix. If only he would get a similar memo and stop wearing James Bond tuxedos. “Where’s your date, Felicity?”
“Felicia,” Tony corrected with a playful twist to his tongue. He purloined a martini from a passing waiter. “Probably touching up her make-up or something.” He shrugged dismissively. “You know how girls are.”
Pepper nodded with her customary sardonic sanguineness, slightly more sardonic than usual. “A little.”
“Don’t be that way. You’re different, you’re a wo-man.” He put the slightest inflection on the last word; what she’d come to associate with his Tony and Pepper, alone on a desert island lines. His voice a little deeper, a little more serious, a little harder to ignore.
“Uh-huh. Would you excuse me?”
“Sure. If you’re going to the buffet table, see if they’ve brought out some more of those little shrimp things.”
“They let me keep the ball,” Tony said, smugly tossing up the first baseball ever to see play in the new Yankee Stadium for Pepper to see.
They were in the new Monument Park, under the Batter’s Eye Restaurant which was providing the free meal. Tony would’ve found it as stuffy as any other museum, only an obsolete Iron Man glove (damaged while punching the Titanium Man through, oops, the bleachers of the new stadium) was in a display with some famous catcher’s mitts. Tony was still slightly worried… not that someone would steal it, but that a thief would set off the proprietary self-destruct. He probably hadn’t used enough gunpowder… ah, well, having the only monument capable of making like a Michael Bay movie was pretty cool on its own.
“You think we should start a collection?” he continued. “First football of the Superbowl, first soccer ball of the World Cup. Could be fun.”
“You hate soccer.”
“We’ll skip that.”
Pepper rolled her eyes and made room in her purse for the baseball. She was wearing a conservative skirt-suit, having decided that for her, dresses and Tony Stark didn’t mix. If only he would get a similar memo and stop wearing James Bond tuxedos. “Where’s your date, Felicity?”
“Felicia,” Tony corrected with a playful twist to his tongue. He purloined a martini from a passing waiter. “Probably touching up her make-up or something.” He shrugged dismissively. “You know how girls are.”
Pepper nodded with her customary sardonic sanguineness, slightly more sardonic than usual. “A little.”
“Don’t be that way. You’re different, you’re a wo-man.” He put the slightest inflection on the last word; what she’d come to associate with his Tony and Pepper, alone on a desert island lines. His voice a little deeper, a little more serious, a little harder to ignore.
“Uh-huh. Would you excuse me?”
“Sure. If you’re going to the buffet table, see if they’ve brought out some more of those little shrimp things.”
