[Third Person's PoV]
"Say… Have you ever been dancing?" Tony asked as they floated in the quiet night sky, still invisible to the world below.
Momo raised an eyebrow, smiling softly. "What? Why do you ask?" Her voice was light, curious. "That seems kind of random, doesn't it?"
Tony smirked. "Maybe. But the thought just popped into my head. Look at us—flying above Paris, stars shining, city lights below… it's practically begging for a dance."
He reached out, gently taking one of her hands, the other settling respectfully at her waist. She blinked in surprise as he pulled her in just a little closer, heart skipping a beat at the way he looked at her—unapologetically warm and earnest.
"Friday," he called, "let's set the mood. Classical. Surprise me."
At once, soft piano notes drifted into the night, followed by the graceful swell of violins. A timeless waltz began to play, elegant and tender.
Down below, tourists glanced around in confusion, smiles tugging at their lips as they searched for the source of the unexpected music. Some lifted their phones toward the sky, thinking it might be a drone show or a hidden speaker. But the source remained unseen—just music on the breeze.
Up above them, something magical was happening.
With a flick of Tony's fingers, shimmering blue light poured from his suit's palms, coalescing into a glowing platform beneath their feet. A second formed a short distance away. Then another, and another—each one floating slightly higher or lower, like a staircase leading into the stars.
"May I have this dance?" he asked, bowing slightly with that playful charm of his.
Momo laughed, charmed and flustered. "You're impossible, you know that?" She smiled warmly towards him as she then said, "Alright, I'll accept this dance."
"Luckily for me doing the impossible is just my specialty" Tony quipped, stepping backward onto the next glowing platform, gently guiding her with him.
Together, they moved from one step to the next, waltzing through the sky. At first it was clumsy—Momo's foot caught once, and Tony awkwardly shifted his weight to keep her balanced.
"Okay, okay," he chuckled. "Clearly we're not sky dancers yet."
"I've never danced like this before!" Momo protested through her laughter.
"We're setting a new trend."
Bit by bit, they found their rhythm. Momo's hesitance melted away as she followed Tony's lead, their steps becoming more fluid, more natural. Their laughter faded into gentle smiles as they twirled and stepped, their silhouettes illuminated by the platform's glow.
They spun slowly across the air, the glowing platforms lighting up beneath them with each movement like stardust responding to their joy. Their movements created gentle ripples of light, painting abstract patterns in the sky—circles, arcs, spirals.
As the music swelled, Tony lifted her slightly, gliding across a wider, broader platform that had just appeared—one with enough space for more elaborate steps.
Momo giggled as he spun her out, her dress catching the wind like petals in bloom, then pulled her close again, her breath catching in her throat.
"You're a fast learner," he whispered.
"I have a good partner," she replied, her voice soft, sincere.
They danced and danced, sometimes slowly, sometimes with bursts of energy, laughter occasionally spilling from their lips when a step went wrong or a spin got too dizzy. But neither of them cared. It wasn't about perfection—it was about the feeling, the freedom, the connection.
The music shifted into a slightly faster tempo—still classical, but full of life. Tony responded immediately, taking her hand and guiding her in a quick spin, then ducking playfully beneath her arm before sweeping her into a dip. Momo squealed, surprised, and held onto him tightly, her smile radiant.
He brought her up again, holding her close.
"I don't think I'll ever forget this," she whispered.
"Good, then that means I'm doing something right" he said.
They continued their dance, now with perfect sync, every move filled with trust, every spin an echo of unspoken affection. The city glittered below them like a million candles, while above, the stars stood as silent witnesses to their moment.
Finally, as the music began to slow, Tony stepped back slightly.
"Let's end with style," he said with a grin.
He twirled her out, her dress flaring, her hair swirling like silk in the breeze. She looked over her shoulder at him, laughing, glowing in the moonlight.
And then—he pulled her back.
She spun into his arms, landing flush against his chest. One hand cradled her back, the other held her hand over his heart. Her breath caught again, their eyes locked, faces only inches apart.
Neither of them said a word.
There was no need.
Tony's feet gently lifted off the glowing platform as his thrusters gave a faint hum, guiding them upward once more. His arms settled more securely around Momo's waist, drawing her closer with the kind of care that said he'd never let her fall.
Momo's hands slid up his chest, fingers brushing over the arc reactor's soft glow. She didn't stop there—her hands passed his shoulders and crossed behind his neck, pulling herself into him as they rose through the cool night air.
The city of Paris slowly fell away beneath them. No more glowing platforms. No more people, lights, or distractions. Just the wind, the stars, and the two of them.
They turned slowly, gently, like leaves caught in a graceful breeze. Neither one moved to stop it. They weren't even aware of it anymore.
Momo stared into his eyes—blue, alive, burning with emotion. Her heartbeat drowned out everything else, thudding hard and steady in her chest, as if it was trying to reach out and touch his.
Tony looked back at her just as deeply. He searched her face—not for doubt, but for confirmation. Any flicker of fear. Any shadow of hesitation. But all he saw was warmth. Anticipation. A look of love so pure it made the breath catch in his throat.
Their foreheads brushed together. Close—so close their noses nearly touched. His breath mixed with hers, soft and uneven, just like the way his heart stuttered in his chest.
"Tell me if you want me to stop," Tony whispered, his voice almost lost in the wind.
"I won't," Momo said, breathless.
That was all he needed.
Tony leaned in, and Momo met him halfway.
Their lips met in a kiss—soft at first, almost cautious, like two pieces of a puzzle finally fitting together. The kind of kiss where the world falls away and nothing else matters.
The kiss deepened gradually, still tender, still slow, but fuller. More certain. It wasn't rushed or fiery—it was quiet, reverent, filled with everything they hadn't said, everything they were too scared to believe they deserved.
Momo clung to him gently, as if anchoring herself in that moment, while Tony held her as though she was something fragile, precious.
When they finally pulled apart, their eyes opened slowly, still close, still holding one another.
Neither spoke.
They didn't need to.
Both of their cheeks were flushed before they were drawn back in like magnets, unable to separate.
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