#rdjxyn

[your-highnessmarvel]

Mundane

Requested by @greatkingunderthemountain​: I have an RDJ one in my head where she is a nobody that He Meets on one of the marvels Sets...she is in in her mid 20’s and he likes her because she isn’t Hollywood 😊

AN: OMG YAY MY FIRST RDJ REQUEST!!!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!

Warnings: none

*gif not mine

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MASTERLIST

The weather was hot in Atlanta Georgia. Robert was feeling the slick of the heat slipping down his back, parching his mouth, and gathering across his forehead. It was beginning to wear him down; muscles tired, eyes drooping. He needed a cold damn water bottle. 

“Alright, that’s it,” he mumbled, getting up from his chair, where he’d been sitting and watching Chris Evans drag out a scene like only he could. “If no one’s going to offer a water bottle to a hot old man, I’m getting myself one.”

No one seemed to notice or even hear him. 

Robert huffed. “Wow, I’m invisible.”

His irritability and the heat combined served to make him even more moody. He was never a hard actor to have on set, but today, under this indescribable heat,he’d had enough. 

“This is basically inhuman,” he grumbled as he made his way across set, wiping sweat off his forehead. He was bee-lining for the actor’s lounge where he could perfectly picture the fridge full of glorious cold bottles. But when he walked in and found the fridge empty, panic began to settle in. Upon seeing the basket of ice usually filled with sodas as empty as the fridge, Robert’s mouth began to feel sticky. 

Deciding to take matters into his own hands, he scrambled out into the sun, across the set, and out onto the streets of Atlanta. Looking around like a lost man in the desert, Robert found a Deli around the corner. Water called to him and he broke into a run. Who cares if TMZ snapped a pic of him running with a wild look on his face? A man had to do what a man had to do. 

He all but burst into the Deli, the bell above ringing, announcing his presence. The clerk looked up, sweat on his brows, and frowned deeply. 

“Water,” Robert demanded, his voice cracking. He sounded like Tom Hanks in Castaway. 

The clerk pointed slowly to the back. “Help yourself, sir.”

Robert rushed, pushing aside a client that was standing in the chip row. Ignoring the small “Hey”, Robert ripped the door of the fridge open, savoring the cold on his palms, grabbed a bottle, and twist the cap open. Water dribbled and poured down his chin as he gulped, darkening his shirt, cooling his chest. 

Finishing that bottle in half a second, he grabbed another, and this time, he sighed and leaned against the cold fridge door to savor that bottle. He’d buy the whole damn inventory if he had to. 

“That ought to give you a belly ache.”

Robert frowned and turned, breathless from gulping on a whole bottle, and looked to see the woman standing before him. She stood with her hip jutted out, arms crossed over her chest. Her hair in a braid, sweaty strands curling beside her rosy cheeks. Something in Robert’s chest shifted. 

“Who are you?” he asked defiantly, sipping on his water. 

Her left brow rose. “I’m Y/N.” When he shrugged, she added, “And you bumped into me without saying sorry.”

He was expecting some form of reconnaissance. Some sort of, “Oh my God, you’re RDJ.” Or maybe something along the lines of, “Iron Man!” He’d also heard variations of, “Aren’t you famous?!”

But she looked at him with the air of a woman who’d been bumped into by a savagely parched man. And she looked at him like he was crazy. Well, he was covered in water and sweat, breathless, gulping on water like he was straight out of the desert. 

“I was thirsty,” he said, still evaluating her. She was pretty, but not in the breathtaking, heart-stopping, Hollywood glam sort of way. She had a round chin and a soft jaw, her face still adorning the roundness of youth, even if she was clearly in her mid-twenties. Her hair was simply drawn back into a braid, and the color was vibrant against the color of her skin. But the thing Robert kept getting drawn back to was her eyes; intense and grasping, he was unable to look away. 

“And I’m hungry for some Doritos, but you don’t see me pushing people like they’re trash.” Her lips pouted. 

Robert smiled, easing up against the fridge door. Oh, this was good. “I never said you were trash, darling.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m still waiting for an apology.”

“I’m sorry, princess,” he said, bowing, smirking. 

“It’s Y/N,” she corrected. 

“Y/N.” He tasted her name in his mouth. “I like it.”

Then she gave him a once over. “You look like a crazy asshole.”

“That’s because I am,” he laughed. Then he pointed to the chips. “And you should go with Miss Vickies. Way better. Crunchier chip. Fulfilling taste.”

Her frown turned into a raised brow. It softened her face, and the darling shape made Robert want to run his knuckles against her cheekbones. 

“I didn’t know I was in the presence of a chip expert,” she retorted. 

Robert laughed, shrugging. “I am a man of many trades.”

She looked between him and the chips, weighing her options. Then she sighed. “Miss Vickies, huh?”

And the innocent, purely mundane way that she bit her lip, hesitating between her preferred choice and his suggestion, made his stomach twist. A magnetism pulled at his insides, urging him to her. Fingers inching, itching, trembling. And suddenly, for the first time in a really long time, Robert Downey Junior was nervous in front of a woman. All thoughts of water evaporated from his mind. 

Clearing his throat, he said, “Well, usually I pick plain, but if you’re having a rowdy night, I’d go with the party pack of sour cream.”

She wrinkled her nose. “It’s just me and my cat.”

He saw his opportunity. “You live ‘round here?”

“Yeah, south a few blocks.”

He nodded, fiddling with his bottle. “I’m sure your boyfriend is going to like sour cream.”

She smiled, a slow, slick knowing smile. Not looking at him, she laughed. “I don’t have a boyfriend.” And before he could ask, she said, “Or a girlfriend.”

That was it, right? She was basically telling him to make his move? Oh man, RDJ the man had courted many women. He was a stallion in flirting, but with her, with this seemingly ordinary yet magnetic Y/N, he couldn’t seem to distinguish his right foot from his left. 

He cleared his throat again. Awkward. “I - uh - I’d like to participate in your chip tasting with you.”

Idiot. 

She turned on him a questioning look, smirking lingering on her mouth. “Chip tasting?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m trying to ask you out.”

“I see.”

After a beat, he said, “Well?”

She smiled. “Bring your kind of chips, I’ll provide my own.”

He beamed from ear to ear. His heart swelled, a strange sort of heat spreading across his belly. “That’s - that’s amazing.” Then he took out his phone, offering his contact list so she could enter her contact information. “I’m off around seven.”

Handing him back his phone, Y/N smiled, still that knowing and slick smile. “Text me and I’ll tell you where the chip headquarters are.”

He laughed, but before he could ask her something else, to prolong his time with this strangely magnetic mundane girl, she was walking out. He followed after, but before he could catch up to her, the clerk yelled out for him. They both stopped, Y/N in the open door, Atlanta sun washing across her like the halo of an angel. 

“Are you going to pay for your water?” the clerk asked. 

Robert’s mouth hung open.

Then the clerk frowned, cocked his head. “Hey, aren’t you Robert Downey Junior?”

Before he could answer, RDJ looked back to where the girl was, to gauge her reaction, but she was already gone, the door swinging behind her.

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