A/N: WEINGOBEOLVNSEL FINALLY DONE WITH THIS HELLBEAST it's 2 days late bc it took me these past 2 days to finally get this bad boy up and running,,,, as you can probably tell by the long ass length lmao
anyway, I AM GOING TO FINISH PEPPERONY WEEK EVEN IF IT'S LATE I'M ACTUALLY GONNA HIT ALL 7 DAYS FOR ONCE JUST 1 MORE TO GO LET'S DO THISSSS
in case you need some clarification as to what's going on in this au: ok so you switch bodies? with your future soulmate? before ever meeting or hearing of them? that's basically what happens here.
...but who ever said you and your soulmate necessarily exist in the same time period or are both actually alive...? ;))))
read on to find out the rest!
Pepperony Week 2017, Day 6: AU
Pepper's woken up by the floor.
She groans in pain as she pushes herself up from the hard wood, rubbing her head. Her fingers freeze in her hair when she realizes it's not her hair—her hair is long and smooth, this hair is short and sticking straight up.
"What the hell?" she mutters, but gasps at the sound of her voice. It's—it's not her voice, it's someone else's voice, someone who is male, what the fuck—
Standing up quickly, she looks around the room and finds it to be, well, not her room. Everything is different, from the color scheme, to the posters up on the wall, to the bed, to the knickknacks and other personal belongings scattered around the room.
She presses her lips together. Her hand that isn't her hand is darker and calloused as she lays it on her chest—her flat chest.
Then her hand slips down the waistband of her pajama pants—the amount of heat rising to her cheeks throughout this entire ordeal is nearly unbearable, mind you—and, yeah, okay, that's definitely not a vagina.
"Who am I?" she questions out loud, picking up the smart phone she'd knocked onto the floor when she'd woken up. She examines her reflection in the screen, only to find a boy staring back at her.
What. The fuck.
"Who are you?" she says, raising an eyebrow. She turns on the phone, unlocking it with her—his—whoever's thumb. There's a text notification from someone named "Rhodey."
Rhodey: Tony where are you? If you're late again you're gonna get detention!
Judging by the date on the phone's calendar app, it's a Tuesday, so it's a school day, explaining Rhodey's text. She frowns thoughtfully.
So she's in the body of a boy named Tony.
Suddenly, the bedroom door opens, and a middle-aged woman pokes her head in. "Tony! Why are you still home? You're going to be late for school!"
"Uh…" Pepper stammers, trying to figure out what to do. Is she supposed to go to school as this Tony kid?
(Is this dream all because of that "wish" she made, to go to school closer to downtown Los Angeles rather than her small town hours away?)
"Get your uniform on, come on," the woman, who Pepper assumes to be Tony's mother, says. "You don't have much time."
"Okay, I'll, uh, be down in a sec," Pepper says quickly. Tony's mother pulls the door closed and leaves then.
One frantic search for Tony's uniform and a quick ride with Tony's driver, Happy (yeah, she's not sure if that's his real name or not either), later, Pepper's at Tony's school, trying to follow the schedule he'd saved to his phone. His classes leave her mind swirling in confusion and she's pretty sure she failed his biochemistry quiz.
(But, again, this is just a dream, so it doesn't really matter.)
"You're acting really weird today," the boy she'd found out to be Rhodey says to her at lunch, studying her face. "What's up with you?"
"It's just…been one of those days," she says lamely, adding a small smirk to hopefully alleviate Rhodey's worries. "Tuesdays, you know?"
"Uh huh," Rhodey says slowly, before turning to talk to one of their other friends sitting with them.
Once school gets out, she accompanies Rhodey to get crepes at a nearby café. They're delicious and the man working behind the counter, Steve, is very friendly. He apparently knows Tony, prompting more awkward conversations, but Steve doesn't seem to mind.
Later that night, as she lies down in Tony's bed, she pulls out his phone and opens the app for taking quick notes and memos. He'd apparently written some things down here and there in it, probably ideas for future projects—he's something of a kid genius, apparently, specializing in math and science, which is why his classes were so hard for her—so she decides to leave a quick summary of her day before the dream ends.
Tony's held boobs before. He knows what they feel like.
He has not, however, ever felt them on himself.
But that's what happens when he wakes up, only to brush strands of red hair he'd found connected to his head from his face, and, yep, those are definitely boobs on his chest.
Oooookay.
With a small squeak, he realizes his voice is no longer his own, either, and this is one fucked up dream.
Whoever he is now apparently has a body mirror on her closet door, so he gets out of bed and stands in front of it, only to find a teenage girl looking back at him.
His—her—whoever the fuck—hair falls just below her shoulder blades, its color a bright strawberry blonde. He pokes at one of his boobs curiously.
This may not be the weirdest dream he's ever had, but it's definitely in, like, his top five.
"Who are you?" he says, his voice high and feminine. This girl's admittedly attractive, but he has no idea who she is.
Uniform skirts are uncomfortable as fuck, it should be noted. He's been wearing one for all of four hours and he's pretty sure he's never felt more chaffing than in said past four hours. Getting to school on time in the morning had been something of a miracle, thanks to a friend this girl—Pepper is her name, apparently—carpools with every day stopping by the house and pushing Tony to get ready quickly.
"Pepper," the redheaded friend says, sitting down next to her at lunch, "you've been acting strange all day. Is something on your mind?"
This particular friend is very attractive, but Tony can't exactly flirt with her in the current circumstances. He stares at her dumbly.
"I'm just hungry," he says. He takes a large bite into the pizza slice he just bought from the cafeteria. "Yum."
"Hey!" another voice says, this time a boy, who sits down on the other side of the redhead. "Guess who just bombed a precalc test?"
"Guess who just aced a Spanish quiz?" the redhead teases back, eying the boy over her water bottle as she takes a sip.
"You're killing me, Nat," the blond boy grumbles, propping his feet up on the table. He glances at Tony. "Remind me why I hang out with two of the smartest girls in the school?"
Ooh, a nerd. He and Pepper have a lot in common, then: good looks and good grades. He mimics the boy's position, kicking his feet up onto the table and leaning back in her seat. "Maybe hanging out with us makes you smarter."
The redhead—Nat—just looks at Tony. "Pep, your skirt."
It's sliding up his thighs because of his posture, so he quickly pushes it back down, smoothing it out. He ignores the heat that's suddenly rising to his cheeks.
"Pepper might have a point there, Clint," Nat says with a grin. Clint just rolls his eyes.
By the end of the day, Tony collapses onto Pepper's bed with a groan, feeling just short of exhausted. He's not really sure why this dream happened, or why it was so vivid, but, whatever, it's just a one-time thing, anyway.
…Right?
Three days later, Pepper wakes up to frantic writing in Sharpie all over her forearm.
Who are you?
Why is this happening?
Why does it KEEP happening?
WHO ARE YOU?
Tony wakes up days later to a hastily scribbled response on his hand.
Who are YOU?
You're the scientist here, FIX IT!
A week later, Pepper's asked out by at least three different people in the span of one day.
A week later, Tony's being interviewed by the local news channel regarding his recent thousand dollar—completely out of his own personal pocket, apparently—donation to a local charity.
Three days after that, Pepper's praised by her Italian teacher in front of the entire class for being suddenly fluent in Italian.
Three days after that, Tony's thanked by Bruce for giving him very helpful advice on how to ask out his crush, Betty.
Finally, they set up some ground rules on their phones.
Stop flirting with everyone at my school, Pepper types. It's creepy and, for the record, Natasha would never date someone like you.
Stop being so nice to everyone, Tony types. I have a reputation of being an asshole to keep up. AND I DON'T GIVE OUT FREE RELATIONSHIP ADVICE!
No showering whatsoever when you're in my body! And be careful of skirts! DON'T LOOK AT MY BODY –Pepper
Stay away from my dad, he's…complicated. –Tony
Stop making me sound smarter than I actually am! –Pepper
Stop making me sound dumb! –Tony
DON'T TOUCH MY COLLEGE APPLICATIONS –Pepper
DON'T TOUCH MINE EITHER –Tony
"That boy," Pepper hisses through her teeth as she edits the Google doc for homecoming dance planning that he'd left some not-so-helpful suggestions on.
"That girl," Tony mutters as he rebuilds one of his small robots she'd somehow managed to break.
Pepper, in Tony's body, smiles as she helps Steve out with some math homework during one of her crepe runs with Rhodey.
You and Steve have a nice thing going on, she reports back happily on Tony's phone. I'd say go for it now if you want something to happen between you two.
Stop messing with my relationships, Potts, he writes back on her phone during the next switch. How come I'm not allowed to flirt but YOU are?
I'm not trying to just flirt, I'm giving you a chance at a REAL relationship, she responds. Instead of a ONE NIGHT STAND.
It's not like YOU'RE in a relationship. –Tony
I'm single because I want to be! –Pepper
So am I! –Tony
Tony wakes up to the sound of his alarm. He groans—it's his own voice, thankfully—and reaches blindly for his phone, stuck under his pillow. He retrieves it and looks at the screen, squinting at the words.
It's a Saturday, so he should be sleeping in, but the label on his alarm indicates that he has a "hangout OR date" today.
(…What the fuck is a "hangout OR date"? Pepper fucking Potts, man…)
He turns off the alarm and goes to the notes app on his phone to evaluate how much damage Pepper's done this time.
You have plans with Steve today! You're going out to brunch with him. I'll leave up to you whether it's platonic or romantic; he seems like he could go either way, too.
Tony doesn't dislike Steve or anything, but they don't really have a lot in common. Steve transferred to his school about a year ago after living in Brooklyn his entire life and, yeah, maybe Tony had been one of his first friends after his big cross-country move, but he'd never thought about pursuing a relationship beyond that.
Ah, well, at least he'll get pancakes out of Pepper's little scheme.
Tonight is my school's homecoming dance, she also wrote. So it's a big day for both of us! Good luck with whatever you choose to do with Steve. :)
(He briefly pictures attending Pepper's dance with her, meeting her face-to-face for the first time, maybe even twirling her around a bit on the dance floor.)
After a few moments, he pulls himself up from bed to get ready for his hangout-or-date with Steve.
His mind changes constantly throughout his time with Steve. Initially, he'd decided on "hangout", but there are a few fleeting moments where it's undeniably and absolutely a "date" instead.
(At one point, Tony flees to the bathroom to continue reading the notes Pepper left on his phone.
I can tell you've never been on a real date before, her teasing voice reads the words in his mind. Just be yourself, first and foremost. That's why Steve wants to spend time with you! But if you need more help, here's some advice from the internet.
Following her words are links to several idiotic websites like wikiHow and Yahoo! Answers where morons asked for dating advice that would not, in fact, aid Tony in any way. She's definitely mocking him.
Aside from that, he struggles a bit with some of her words. He'd grown closer to Steve when Pepper had been in control, so, really, Steve probably wants to spend time with her.)
At the very least, he's enjoying hanging out with Steve, and Steve seems to feel the same about the entire thing.
As they're about to part ways in the parking lot, Steve and Tony share a quick hug before Steve offers him a small smile.
"This was fun, Tony," he says, his car keys jingling in his hand. "It's nice hanging out with you when I'm not working or smell like crepes."
"I think I have some news to break to you about the latter there," Tony teases, prompting Steve to laugh.
"Y'know, you've been a little different lately," Steve says, still grinning. "In a good way, I mean. High school changes everyone, especially senior year."
"Yeah, yeah, totally."
Steve presses his lips together for a moment. "Don't mean to overstep my boundaries here, but you like someone, right?"
"H-huh?" Tony stammers, gaping at Steve. "What are you…?"
"I assumed you'd changed because you settled with someone," Steve says.
"Uh." Tony thinks of switching bodies with Pepper on the regular. "'Settled' is a relative term…"
"Well, whatever it is," Steve continues, "I'm happy for you. You seem happy, too."
The conversation has now taken a complete turn for the absolute weird. Tony clears his throat, nodding once. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. Anyway, I, uh, need to get going, gotta work on some stuff with my dad today."
"Of course," Steve says, lifting his hand in a quick wave. "See you at school."
They both leave in their different directions then, Tony feeling more uncertain of himself, of Steve, of all of his relationships, of his future, and of Pepper than ever.
It looks like his time with Steve had just been a "hangout" after all. Tony's fine with that, honestly, because now Steve's put a totally different idea in his mind.
As he slides into his seat in his car and closes the door, he pulls out his phone. It's the early afternoon, so Pepper shouldn't be too busy with her homecoming dance stuff yet. He scrolls through his contacts until he comes across her name and clicks on it.
Her phone number's been there this entire time, yet he's never thought to call it. He never needed to, really—switching bodies has been a pretty strong enough form of communication, thank you very much. But today's been confusing and he's not sure what the future holds and, and—
He calls her number, pressing the phone up to his ear.
Pepper looks up from the coffee she's pouring for herself in her kitchen at the sound of her phone ringing.
She picks it up, answering the call with a yawn.
"Hello?"
"Pepper," Natasha drones from the other end of the line, "can I come over to your house to get ready early? I'm bored out of my mind."
"Sure," Pepper says, laughter filling her voice. "Why are you so bored? Aren't you with Clint?"
Another voice answers, "Yeah."
"Speak of the devil. Hi, Clint." Pepper sips at her coffee. "I'm assuming you're coming over to get ready with us as well?"
"I just have to change into a suit," Clint says, the shrug in his voice evident. "You two are going to take forever though, right?"
"If you're just going to complain, I'm uninviting you," Natasha says.
"It's not even at your house! You can't 'uninvite' me!"
"If you two are finished arguing, I'm going to get back to my coffee," Pepper says. "Come over anytime after ten."
"Roger that," Natasha says before hanging up.
A couple of hours later, Pepper gives herself a final glance over in her mirror. She's wearing a strapless dark red dress, the skirt falling just above her knees. She carefully pushes her hair, which Natasha helped her curl, over her shoulders, offering her reflection a small smile.
"Lookin' good, Potts," Natasha calls to her from where she's sitting on Pepper's bed, scrolling through something on her phone. "Too bad you don't have a date to ogle you the entire night."
"I'm perfectly okay with that," Pepper says confidently and, to be honest, the only person she can really see herself bringing as a date to her dance isn't exactly available, as he's busy doing his own thing in another city. "Besides, I'll have more fun watching Clint stare at you."
Natasha scoffs, rolling her eyes.
"Anyway, we should get going," Pepper continues. "We have to go make sure everything's in order."
"I still can't believe I let you sign me up for the stupid dance committee," Natasha grumbles, standing up and forcing her phone into her small purse.
"It's not stupid and it's a good final resume booster before college apps are due," Pepper says.
"Whatever."
Natasha moves toward her door first as Pepper pauses, looking down at her phone in her hand.
"I'll meet you downstairs in a sec," Pepper says as Natasha's halfway out the door. "My parents want to take pictures before we leave."
"Of course they do," Natasha sighs, but she's smiling. "Don't be long."
Once Natasha's out the door, Pepper pulls her phone up, quickly scrolling through her contacts. She pauses once she reaches Tony's. Neither of them had ever tried to contact one another before, since they don't have much reason to, but she calls his number anyway.
(She's curious about how his brunch with Steve went. That's it. That's the only reason she's calling.)
She presses the phone to her ear and waits.
Until—
The number you have tried to call is disconnected.
The automated voice in Tony's ear surprises him. His heart does a weird thing in his chest for a moment before he pulls the phone away from his ear, looking down at the disconnected call.
He tries calling her again, and again, and again, before giving up (with the full intention of trying again later).
Whatever. It doesn't really matter.
He'll just catch her up the next time they switch.
…They never switch again.
A week passes, then another, and another.
It's a month before Tony's finally accepting that it's over.
It's strange, really. Not too long ago, he would have been happy to finally be freed from this Freaky Friday bullshit, but now that it's actually gone, he doesn't know how to feel about it.
He feels empty. And confused. And maybe even a little misguided.
And he keeps replaying his conversation with Steve in his mind, about liking someone else, about settling with someone—someone who'd turned him into a better person, apparently.
It's strange, really.
He decides to go to her.
On one particularly adventurous Saturday, he packs a bag of some things and throw it into his car under the pretense of, "Yeah, I'm spending the weekend at Rhodey's," to his parents.
After searching on Google for a bit, he manages to get the address to Pepper's school. Once he gets there, he knows the way back to her house, where he can finally meet her face-to-face.
The drive passes slowly, though it's only about two hours long.
He cycles through different options of how to greet her in his mind for a bit, unsure of how to approach things. They're friends at least, right? Technically? (He ignores the complicated bundle of feelings Steve had inspired within him, deciding to put off unpacking it for another date.)
How does one exactly introduce himself to the person he'd switched bodies with regularly for weeks? Because of that, he already knows Pepper pretty well, and she knows all about him, too.
But does he really know her?
What would she say, anyway? Is she even interested in meeting him? Does she even like him, even as a friend? He's not exactly the most likeable person in the world, so it'd make sense for her not to.
But something inside of him hopes that she's just as curious about him as he is about her, enough to establish a real friendship outside of their brief body switching stint.
There's only one way to find out, he supposes.
He finally makes it to Pepper's school.
It's completely empty, which makes sense, given it's a Saturday, save for a few cars here and there. Though he'd intended on going straight from her school to her house, he's still not entirely sure what to say to her, so he pulls into the parking lot to think things over for a bit.
Once he gets out of his car, he walks toward the gym and finds the doors unlocked. Curious, he opens them, and enters, walking down the familiar foyer.
It's strange, having all these memories of living as someone else. He's never stepped foot onto this school's campus before, but he knows it well now, from the time he spent here as Pepper.
(He still has no scientific explanation for how any of these things could transpire.)
Then his certainty flies out the window when he comes across what should've been the other entrance to the gym, from inside the campus. It looks almost completely remodeled, with some sort of memorial on the wall. He looks around, eyebrows furrowed.
…Did he miss something here?
"Can I help you?"
The sudden voice startles him. He turns and finds one of Pepper's favorite teachers—Mr. Coulson—approaching him, holding a stack of files in his arms.
Except one of Coulson's hands is…not there. It's a prosthetic hand instead. Tony stares at it briefly before meeting Coulson's eyes.
"I, uh," he stammers, "am just…looking around."
Coulson eyes him curiously. "Looking around a school on a Saturday?"
"I'm…looking to transfer?" Tony says lamely.
"Who are you?" Coulson asks, stopping beside him.
"I'm Tony," Tony says, clearing his throat. "Tony Stark. I, uh, live back in the city, LA. I'm on my way to meet a…friend. Who goes to this school."
"Well, they wouldn't be here on a Saturday," Coulson says, reminding, but his voice is light.
"Y-Yeah, I know, I just needed some time to think before seeing her," Tony says with a shrug. He points up at the wall they're standing in front of. "When was this, uh, wall put here?"
"After the bombing," Coulson says, his voice quiet. His shoulders sag slightly, a shadow of sorrow hanging over his expression. He holds up his prosthetic hand. "I was one of the lucky ones. This wall was put up when they fixed up the gym as a memorial for all the students and faculty who died in it."
Tony doesn't like the direction this is going. He turns back to the wall, his eyes quickly scanning over the names on it. "When was this bomb exactly?"
"Just about three years ago," Coulson says. "It was on the night of our homecoming dance. It was awful."
His breath hitches when he sees Natasha's name. Clint's name isn't too far from hers. This isn't possible, there's—there's no way this is possible. How could they be dead when Tony had talked to them just recently?
"Pepper Potts," he says slowly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm supposed to meet Pepper Potts."
Coulson looks at him sadly, sympathy etched into his features. "I'm sorry. Pepper Potts died in the explosion."
There's—
There's no way—
This can't be happening—
But then his eyes find it, her name.
Nestled between two others.
"No," he says, shaking his head. The sight of her name imprints itself in his mind, but he shakes his head insistently. "No, this can't be—"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Stark," Coulson says softly. "She passed away three years ago."
No, no, no, no—
"I—I have to go," Tony chokes out, the water in his eyes nearly blinding him. "I can't—I need to go."
He hurries back through the foyer then, ignoring Coulson's calls after him. He screws his eyes shut as he throws the door open, sprinting back to his car and slamming the door after he gets in.
This isn't real, this isn't fair, this can't be.
His body shakes as he curls up on himself, not even bothering to hide his tears. Just when he thought they he could be reunited, he could tell her how he feels—
But his mind is still stuck on how this is at all possible. He'd been time traveling every time they switched? Back to a time three years ago?
How is that possible? Switching bodies is one thing, but this?
His hand fumbles in his pocket as he pulls out his phone, holding it up with a gasp for air between sobs. He somehow manages to get to the notes app open, pulling up all the memos she'd left for him. She'd left them for him just weeks ago, how could she have been dead—
They start disappearing before his eyes.
The notes are deleting themselves, live, as he watches, his mouth agape in shock. They don't stop until they're all gone completely, and he just blinks dumbly.
What…the fuck?
He can't bring himself to leave.
He spends the rest of his day in the parking lot of Pepper's school, reading article after article about the bomb.
It'd been planted by some loser named "Aldrich Killian," who'd since been arrested (Tony had debated paying him a visit in prison several times throughout the course of the day, just to make sure he truly understood what he'd done). He'd apparently gone to the school in the past, only to be expelled for a plethora of reasons that generally added up to him being a dick.
The sun eventually sets and he still hasn't moved, even by the time it's completely dark. His phone is dying now. He closes his eyes, pushing his head back against the headrest.
He still can't believe it.
If only he'd paid more attention to things, to the dates on Pepper's homework assignments, or the many news articles about her school three years prior. How could he have missed all of this?
And, better yet, if he's been switching bodies with a dead girl this entire time, why can't he switch with her now, even just once, just to see her again?
His legs are cramping up to the point of total discomfort now. He fumbles with the car door until it opens, pushing himself out of his seat and onto his feet. He groans at the soreness in his body as he stretches out.
As he gathers himself, the gym doors catch his eyes. He presses his lips together, debating.
Is her death still real?
There's only one way to find out.
He closes the car door behind him, locking it absentmindedly while walking up to the gym. The doors are unlocked still.
He pulls the doors open numbly, his eyes stinging and hands shaking.
He slowly makes his way to the opposite side of the foyer as he had before, his eyes locked on the memorial wall.
Though it only takes about twenty seconds to reach the wall, the walk feels eternal, as his heart thuds in his chest, filling his ears with a pounding sensation. His breath hitches. He clenches his fists down at his sides.
(He refuses to accept that she's dead.)
(He refuses to accept that he couldn't prevent this.)
(He refuses to…)
(To…)
(…)
By the time he reaches the wall, he blinks, staring at it blankly as the tension seeps from his shoulders.
…Whose name was he searching for again?
"Shit—fucking—Christ," he curses in one breath, shaking his head crazily. He slaps his hands against his temples, frustrated.
Her name—her name—he can't forget—her name is—
"Pepper," he whispers. "Pepper, Pepper, Pepper…"
(He can feel it, their interconnectedness fading.)
(The brief moment in the universe in which their stars are aligned, allowing them to pass through each other freely as they had.)
"Pepper, it's you, Pepper," he repeats, laying his fingers over her name on the wall. "I remember you, Pepper. I'm not going to forget."
He slides to the ground on his knees, exhaustion suddenly overtaking him. His hand moves down the wall with his descent, despite his effort to stay connected to her, her name, her—
But who—
It's always been her—
Pepper—
(Time passes through him and around him, ebbing and flowing.)
(She passes through him and around him.)
(He reaches his hand out to her, but she can't reach back to take it.)
(She calls to him; he calls to her.)
(The world around them is a watercolor painting of colors in every direction, their hands connected by a simple string.)
(He's not giving up.)
(He reaches.)
(And reaches.)
(Until—)
He wakes up with a gasp, bolting upright.
His hair spills over his shoulders, rising and falling slowly with each paralyzing, stuttering breath. He looks around, grasping the couch cushions with his hands as he registers his surroundings.
As his eyes travel around the familiar high school lounge, tears fill his eyes.
"Pepper," he chokes out, running his fingers through the familiar strawberry blonde hair, which is curled and rough, the scent of hairspray filling his nostrils.
And, and—he even has boobs again! Pepper's boobs!
"Pepper," he repeats with a cry, his—Pepper's voice quivering as he hugs himself. "You're still alive…"
He looks down to properly examine Pepper's outfit. It's a dress—dark red, strapless, the skirt riding up his thighs due to his unladylike position on the couch. He laughs, brushing the tears away.
"Pep," a voice drones from behind him, "your dress."
He turns toward the speaker, gasping happily. "Nat!"
"Geez, what's with you and showing off what's under your skirt these days?" Natasha says, rolling her eyes. "Do you want boys to ogle you?"
"Natasha," Tony sighs happily, hoisting himself up onto his knees on the couch to wrap Natasha up in a warm embrace, "you're alive!"
"Uh…thanks?" Natasha doesn't hug him back. "Did you have a nightmare or something? You were just dozing off."
Tony lets go of her then, taking a moment to study her. Natasha's wearing a dark, emerald green dress that's styled similarly to the one Pepper had apparently chosen to wear that day.
Wait. Meaning—
"Tonight's the dance!" he says, looking at Natasha with wide eyes.
"How'd you forget?" She offers him a small smirk. "We've been here since noon setting up. After we finished we came back here to relax for a bit, and then you dozed off. When I got back to the bathroom, you'd woken up and started acting…weird. Also, you fucked up your makeup."
Oh, shit, probably from the crying. But that's not important now! He glances out the windows. It's already nighttime. From what Tony read in the articles in his car, the bomb is set to detonate at about 8:30.
They're desperately pressed for time.
"Natasha, listen, I have something really important to tell you," he says as Natasha reaches into the bag sitting behind the couch, procuring a pack of makeup wipes. She seemingly debates handing it to him before just taking out a wipe and dabbing at his makeup herself.
"Is it related to why you're so happy that I'm alive?" Natasha asks absentmindedly, her attention focused on fixing his makeup.
"Listen," he says sharply, "there's—"
"There you two are!" Clint calls to them, walking in through the side door. "The dance just started, come on!"
Clint's alive!
"We're aiming to be fashionably late," Natasha says.
Tony lets out a frustrated groan. "There's a bomb!"
That shuts both Clint and Natasha up immediately. Natasha pulls the dirtied makeup wipe away from Tony's face, staring at him.
"A former student named Aldrich Killian put a bomb in the boys' locker room in the gym!" Tony continues, looking between them. "It's going to detonate at 8:30, killing both of you and Pepp—I mean, me! We have to stop it!"
Natasha's concerned gaze quickly turns suspicious. "How do you know about this?"
"I…had a dream about it?" Tony says lamely.
"We're supposed to base this off of your dream?" Clint says. "Also, wasn't that Killian dude expelled like a year ago?"
"He went out pretty epically," Natasha recalls. "From what I've heard, he holds a grudge against us to this day. And we all know how he felt about Pepper."
Wait, what? "Me?"
"Yeah, he was like, obsessed with you, remember?" Natasha says, tilting her head. "He tried to ask you out, like, five times. Got pretty creepy toward the end of it."
(Tony really wishes he'd squeezed in a quick trip to whatever hellhole prison Killian was being kept at before the switch, just for even thinking to come near Pepper.)
"Then Tasha gave him a black eye," Clint says with a proud grin, but it fades quickly. "Even if he hates us and the school…would he actually try to bomb it?"
Natasha presses her lips together, thoughtfully. "He was really good at chemistry."
Tony pushes himself up onto her feet, stumbling for a moment in the heels Pepper had apparently chosen for the day. "There's only one way to prove that he put a bomb in the guys' locker room."
Clint and Natasha share a brief look before turning to him with a nod.
As they set out, Tony makes it three steps before falling completely on his ass.
(Okay, sorry, Pepper, but he's gonna have to sacrifice the awesomeness of the outfit for the sake of saving her.)
He abandons her heels, running outside after Natasha and Clint barefoot.
They can do this. He can do this.
"Holy shit."
Tony shares in the sentiment of Clint's shocked words as the three of them stare at the locker they'd just opened, revealing a bomb with a timer ticking steadily. They've got about an hour left before it's set to detonate.
"You were right," Natasha says, breathless. "You've got scary good intuition, Pepper."
"Something like that…" Tony swallows nervously, watching the digital numbers decrease on the clock.
"We better call the cops now," Clint says, standing up straight. "We'll have to evacuate the dance."
"I'll do it," Natasha says, holding up her phone.
Tony allows himself to smile, relieved. Pepper and all her friends are going to live, meaning that, once they unswitch after this big mess, finally, they can meet.
…Though, there's the problem of the time difference between them. Three years. That might be a bit of an obstacle but, honestly, nothing can be as hard as undoing her death.
He sighs as the coldness of the tile floor seeps into his bare feet. Even if Pepper wakes up tomorrow with athlete's foot, it will have been worth it, in Tony's opinion. He'd be okay with her yelling at him every day for the rest of their lives over it, too.
(And, honestly, just knowing Pepper will still be alive after tonight is enough for him. Maybe they won't ever meet face-to-face and maybe he will never act on the feelings he now knows he's developed for her, but compared to the fact that she's alive, everything pales in comparison.)
Just as Natasha's about to call 9-1-1, a new voice emerges from behind them.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you."
The three of them turn at the words, Tony not sure who exactly this teenager is, but judging by the matching scowls on Natasha and Clint's faces, he has a pretty good guess.
"Killian," Clint hisses.
"You asshole," Natasha says, scathing, and Tony wonders if she's going to send him off with a black eye like she'd apparently done in the past. "What makes you think I'm not going to call the cops on you right now? You put a fucking bomb in our school!"
"Well," Killian says, grinning disturbingly; Tony fights back a shudder at the sight, "good thing I installed a failsafe, in the event that someone foiled my plan."
His hand moves in his pocket then, pushing some sort of button, because the timer suddenly stops. Tony flinches, expecting the bomb to just detonate then and there, but nothing happens.
Clint isn't one to wait, however, tackling Killian to the ground and landing a punch square on his jaw. He holds Killian down with a snarl. "What did you do?"
"You have seven minutes," Killian says simply. "It's now going by the timer I placed elsewhere in the school. You won't get there and deactivate it in time. And you definitely can't evacuate the school in time."
Tony takes a deep breath, staring Killian down. "I can. Clint, hold him there. Nat, call the cops. I'm going to deactivate the bomb."
"What?" both Clint and Natasha say, looking at him like he's crazy.
"I know what I'm doing, I swear," Tony says carefully. "You need to trust me. Get Killian and everyone else out of here as quickly as you can. The blast radius extends to everyone in the gym."
They're silent for a moment before Natasha looks at him in some sort of understanding. "Okay. We'll do it."
She catches Tony in a quick hug, squeezing her tightly before standing beside Clint. "We'll see you on the other side, Pepper."
Tony nods, turning his attention back to the bomb as Natasha and Clint drag Killian out the door, Natasha calling the cops on the way out. His eyes travel along the cord running down the lockers and out the other door.
According to his brain, he has about six and a half minutes left. He runs along the path of the wires, passing by a maintenance closet. He jumps in for a moment to retrieve whatever tools are there, shoving them into an empty trash bag and carrying it out with him.
Six minutes.
He runs through the gym foyer and out the doors toward the rest of the campus. He curses as he steps on a particularly sharp pebble, hopping on one foot for several steps before resuming a proper run.
Five minutes.
He runs by the lockers, looking up at the cord running alongside some of the school's normal ones, for the intercom. He quickens his pace.
Four minutes.
He runs by Coulson's history classroom. He pulls up Pepper's stupid strapless dress, as it's been sliding down during his running. He absentmindedly wonders how the hell people wear strapless shit.
Four and a half minutes.
He skids to a stop where the cord ends in a locker. Just as he's about to break into the locker, he realizes it's Pepper's with a sickening jolt. Ignoring his sudden spike of anxiety at the realization, he puts in Pepper's combo effortlessly and swings the door open.
Inside, sitting innocently on top of Pepper's textbooks, is what appears to be a kitchen timer. Using his tools, he pries the back of the digital timer open, using Pepper's phone's flashlight to look inside.
The wire's hooked up to the clock mechanism. He pulls the rest of his random assortment of tools out, digging further into the timer's inner workings.
Just when he thinks he's got it, he sees it—
The message on the inside of Pepper's locker door, written on one of Pepper's red sticky notes.
This is just step one.
Do you have time to go back and finish?
—A.K.
Tony stares at it dumbly, blinking once.
"Son of a bitch."
Three minutes.
"Shit—fucking—dammit!" he yells, the words sounding strange coming from Pepper's mouth rather than his own. He throws the tools down with a yell, abandoning the clock and wire as he turns on his heel and sprints as quickly as he can back to the gym.
Two minutes and forty-five seconds.
Of course it would be a trick, considering how psychopathic Killian appeared to be.
Two minutes and thirty seconds.
And to think he'd centered all of this around Pepper!
Two minutes and twenty seconds.
Why the fuck had all of the articles Tony had read about the bombing neglected to include this stupid backup shit Killian had had planned, involving a second timer, the connection to Pepper, and what he's assuming is a secret password to actually disarm the bomb?!
Two minutes and ten seconds.
Stupid, stupid, stupid—
Two minutes and five seconds.
There's no way he's going to know whatever stupid password Killian would choose.
Two minutes and four seconds.
Maybe Pepper would, but—
Two minutes and four seconds.
He's not Pepper.
Two minutes and three seconds.
All of this is just one giant mistake, something that never should have happened, she never should have died, he never should have switched places with her, she should have been spared.
Two minutes and two seconds.
Pepper deserves better.
Two minutes and—
Pepper's here.
…
Time halts as he does, skidding to a stop at the wall that would become the memorial wall in the future, after the bomb goes off.
Something within him…sparks.
The sounds of the dance and the people inside fade to nothingness as he looks around himself, alert.
She's there.
She's here.
He blinks.
"Pepper?"
Pepper comes to on the floor, not unlike her first experience waking up in Tony's body.
As she groans, she hears his voice rather than hers, and—
And—wait, wait—
She gasps, sitting up and looking around. She's…at school? In the gym?
In Tony's body?
Why is he—
How is he—
How is she—
The memories come flooding back and she gasps again, looking up at the wall beside her.
It's a memorial, dated to the night of the homecoming dance. There, in the middle of the list of names, is her own—Pepper Potts.
"I…" she mumbles, Tony's voice cracking with her fear. "I died?"
She pushes herself up to her feet, starting when a strange feeling suddenly overtakes her.
Like someone's watching her.
Like she's not alone.
She looks around herself, though the gym is dark and empty.
"Tony?"
"You're there," Tony says softly, Pepper's words reaching him through time. "You're—here, in my body, right?"
"Tony, where—I can't see you!"
"Pepper, I'm here, I'm—"
"I'm right here!"
Tony's eyes snap open at his words, as they passed through his own lips. He looks down at his hands, recognizing them as his own.
He's…back in his own body.
And—
He looks up.
Pepper's back in her own body, as well.
Standing before him.
He stares at her, his mouth hanging open.
"Pepper," he whispers.
His shock is mirrored in Pepper's expression. She stares at him for another moment before closing the gap between them, throwing her arms around his neck and pressing her face to his chest.
"Tony," she cries into his shirt, grasping at the fabric shakily.
"I'm…here," he says, unsure of what else to say, wrapping his arms around her small frame. He holds her tightly, resting his chin upon her head. "We're finally…"
"Together," she finishes tearfully for him, looking up at his eyes. "It took a lot just for this…"
He's not exactly sure whose time they're in right now, between the two of them. If anything, time has stilled completely for them, allowing them this brief, stolen moment. He pulls away from her.
"I came to find you after we stopped switching," he says quickly, his hands resting on her arms. "I ran into Coulson, he told me about the bomb at your dance. I—I tried to stop it. There's still time."
She smiles, placing a hand on his face. "Thank you, Tony. I…" She stops suddenly, looking down at her feet. "Wait…where are my shoes?"
"Uh, I left them in that lounge area," he says, scratching the back of his neck. "I couldn't run in them, sorry."
"Boys," she teases with a scoff, readjusting her dress with a subtle blush. She clears her throat. "How do I deactivate the bomb?"
"I think you need to enter in some sort of password on the bomb itself," he says nervously. "I'm not sure what it would be, but it sounds like it'd be something specific between you and Killian for, uh, reasons that will take too long to explain."
She thinks for a moment, nods. "I have an idea, then."
"Okay, good, good, but, uh, you have, like, just under two minutes left, when time starts working again, I guess," he says, blowing out a nervous breath. "And the school isn't evacuated yet, so—"
"So I can't run away," she says. "I wasn't planning on it. I can do this, Tony."
"I have faith in you," he says very seriously. "Oh, and just in case we forget for some reason—"
He digs into his pocket, digging out a Sharpie. He takes Pepper's right hand into his own, writing on her palm. "We should write our names down on each other. I started to forget, for some reason, I guess the magic was wearing off, so, uh, this is just a precautionary measure."
"Right," she says, taking the pen from him once he's done. She sets the tip to his skin, but pauses, looking up at him. "Tony, um, thank you. For everything."
"I wasn't really keen on the whole 'you dying before I got to actually meet you' deal," he says casually.
"Not just that," she says, smiling tearfully. "Just…for being you. You made me a better person."
"Come on, Pep, you made me a better person. People started to actually like me!"
She laughs at that. "You were always likeable from the start, Tony. I like you for you." She looks down at his hand, starting to write. "Maybe even lov—"
The pen drops.
It clatters to the floor, the noise filling the otherwise silent room. Tony blinks in surprise, breath hitched, as he stares expectantly at the space Pepper had occupied in front of him, only to now find it empty.
"…Pepper?"
He looks around the dark gym foyer before resigning his gaze to the memorial wall from the bombing.
Had he—had she—is she dead?
She's…still dead.
"Pepper!" he screams, looking this way and that. He looks down at his hand, only to find a "P" written there. He curses under his breath.
"I'm not going to forget you!" he yells to the damned wall, staring intensely at her name. "I won't forget your name! Pepper, Pepper, Pepper…"
He keeps repeating it in his mind as he bends down to pick up the Sharpie on the ground, bringing the tip to his skin to finish what she'd started.
What she'd—
She—
Who—
He blinks.
"Who…" Tears sting at his eyes. "Who is she? Who…who are you?"
He stares at the list of names, eyes searching desperately for the name.
It's like a word search with no end, and he can't—
He swears loudly, slamming his fist against the wall.
"I can't remember her name."
"Tony!" Pepper cries at the top of her lungs, but it's drowned out by the sound of the loud music booming from the other part of the gym.
She's back in her own body, in her own time.
On the night of—
She gasps, realizing. She only has moments left!
She takes off toward the boys' locker room then, her heart pounding in her ears.
Along the way, she encounters Natasha, panicked.
"Pepper!" Natasha yells, eyes wide. "Clint's got Killian, but the cops won't be here for another three minutes!"
"We only have one left!" Pepper yells back.
"I know!" Natasha exclaims, looking genuinely spooked. Pepper's never quite seen Natasha afraid before.
She decides she does not like the sight.
"Get out of here, Nat!" Pepper yells. "I'm going to stop this!"
"Pepper, no," Natasha protests, grasping her arm. "You're just going to get yourself killed—"
"I know how to deactivate the bomb!" Pepper insists. "Trust me, Nat!"
"Pep…" Natasha's eyes are glossy, but accepting.
"Try to get as many people out of here as you can!" Pepper says. "But, I swear, I'm going to disarm the bomb!"
Natasha nods wordlessly, releasing Pepper's arm. She holds up her phone. "Seventy seconds!"
"I can…" Pepper trails off, a strange anxiety suddenly filling her core. She looks at Natasha hopelessly. "I can't remember his name."
"What?" Natasha yells back over the loud music.
"His name, I—" Pepper shakes her head, trying to dismiss it. "Never mind. Just go, Natasha!"
With that, Pepper sprints to the locker room, her thoughts swirling helplessly.
His name, the boy, the one who helped her.
What is his name?
Who is he?
She skids to a stop before the locker with the bomb in it, looking down at the keypad connected to the side of it.
(What's his name, what's his name, what's his name—)
Her fingers shake over the buttons as she tries to—
(His name—)
Tries to—
(Who—)
She lets out a scream of frustration.
As tears spill out of her eyes, out of fear, and anger, and confusion, and grief for this stranger, she—
She opens her right palm, the smudged Sharpie trailing down her wrist catching her attention.
I love you.
She blinks, staring at it.
The words stay intact, despite the chaos around her.
They remain steadfast as she loses herself in them, for just one moment, one selfish moment.
They're his words.
His name—
"Stupid," she mutters, a smile forming despite her tears. "Idiot. How am I supposed to remember your name with this romantic bullshit?"
But it's just what she needs.
She wipes her tears with a confident grin, focusing her attention on the bomb before her.
She takes the keypad into her hands and types.
She reads it over once to ensure it's correct.
EXTREMIS.
(The name of a plan for taking over the world Killian had hoped she'd help him with, only to be turned down epically.)
(Then Natasha gave him a black eye.)
She thinks of the boy, the stranger who'd helped her know this threat was present at her dance.
"I love you, too," she whispers down to her palm.
Then she hits enter on the bomb's keypad.
Tony's always felt like a part of him is missing.
It's weird. The feeling started during his senior year of high school, constantly nagging at his mind. It insisted he's searching for something specific, a place, or maybe even a person, but he's had no such luck in life thus far.
He pushes it to the back of his mind today, though. It's December 16th, the anniversary of his parents' deaths, so it's not exactly a day for soul-searching.
"Want me to come with you?" Rhodey, his best friend of a lifetime, asks, concern lining his voice, as it does every year.
"I'll just go alone," Tony says reassuringly, offering him a small smile. Rhodey has a place in his mourning tradition, anyway, by going out for a meal at some point during the day each year, to take his mind off things. "How's military life treating you?"
"Better than MIT," Rhodey jokes, sipping at his coffee. "The food's better, actually."
"What? You're shitting me, right?"
Their banter is familiar and comfortable. It helps Tony relax.
A few minutes later, Rhodey leaves the table to go to the restroom. Tony checks his phone to catch up on the latest news, scoffing softly when a headline about a new conspiracy theory for the high school bombing ten years prior pops up.
He's not sure why people still talk about it so much. Sure, there'd been a time he, too, had been caught up in the hype of it all, about seven years ago, during his senior year of high school. He's not sure if he'd gone there to get drunk or what, because he didn't remember much of his trip aside from waking up in the gym foyer to the school janitor kicking him out.
The bomb had been disarmed by students, supposedly, just moments before it would detonate. People theorized it'd been a prank or even put on the government as some sort of message, but, as far as Tony can tell, it's just a tragedy that was mysteriously avoided thanks to a few intelligent and benevolent teenagers.
Everyone had made it out alive.
It's a strange story with a happy ending.
As Tony scrolls past the article completely, he overhears two people bickering just a few tables over from his and Rhodey's.
"Inviting high school teachers is weird," the male voice says. "Like, I get it, we're losers with hardly any family or friends, but doesn't that seem a little desperate?"
"You put Coulson on the list," the female voice insists. Tony imagines her rolling her eyes. "He was one of our high school teachers."
"Coulson's different and you know that. But May? Really?"
"In case you haven't put it together yet, Clint, they're literally together."
"…What? Nat, are you serious? Since when?"
The female, "Nat," groans. "I can't believe I'm marrying you."
"Nobody tells me anything!"
Before Tony can listen in on the rest of the conversation, Rhodey rejoins him at the table, looking apologetic as he holds his phone up.
"Duty calls?" Tony guesses.
"Yeah. Sorry, Tony. I'll catch you later, as soon as I'm free again."
"It's all good." Tony dismisses him with a wave of his hand. "Go out there and catch some bad guys."
"See you later, Tony," Rhodey says, catching him in a quick hug before leaving the restaurant.
The couple from before—who seem strangely familiar to Tony, but he can't quite put his finger on it—exits the restaurant just moments after Rhodey.
Pepper hides a yawn with her hand as she parks her car and gets out, taking her purse with her. Her heels clack against the concrete as she walks down the sidewalk, passing by several different people on her way.
Her phone vibrates in her purse and she takes it out. It's a message from Natasha.
Natasha: You're not going to believe this—Clint STILL didn't know May and Coulson got together! How?
Pepper can't help but laugh. Clint's as out of the loop as always.
She enters the florist shop finally, looking around at all the flowers with a small, reverent smile. The shop smells wonderful from all the different scents blended together. She gets in line between a man with dark hair.
(…He seems familiar, for some reason.)
She looks down at her right palm. It's strange—ever since her senior year of high school, she's had this burning sensation deep down inside that she's missing something. She's not sure if it's a thing, or a place, or maybe even a person, but whatever it is, she needs it back in her life.
(She wishes she could at least remember the name of whatever it is.)
The man in front of her pays for his bouquet of flowers and turns to leave.
They don't meet eyes.
But, as Pepper steps up to the counter to select her flowers, she glances back, just in time to catch the man's back before he's out the door.
Tony stops just before exiting the florist shop to look back at the woman who'd been standing behind him in line. Her back is to him as she orders her flowers, but something about the bright color of her hair screams familiarity.
He turns away and resumes leaving the store before it can become too creepy.
As Pepper's loading her purse and her flowers into the passenger seat of her car, she notices the man from before at his car, parked across the street.
The familiarity from before lingers. She tilts her head, trying to remember meeting or even just seeing him before today. She frowns thoughtfully.
He suddenly looks up in her direction, and—
They meet eyes.
Time seems to stop for a moment, the sounds of the city and traffic around them fading completely into the background, as Pepper realizes.
She's not been searching for a thing.
Or a place.
She's been searching for—
—a person.
He's been searching for a person this entire time, and that person is standing across the street from him.
Her hands still in their motions of putting her things in her car as she stares back at him, wide-eyed and mouth agape.
He's moving before he knows what he's doing, bolting down the sidewalk to the street corner to cross.
She's running, too, toward the intersection, so she can meet him.
They stare at each other expectantly as they wait for the light to change.
The moment the red hand becomes the white walking man, Tony runs onto the crosswalk.
Pepper runs as well, her right hand tingling and eyes burning.
(What does it all mean?)
Time stills once more as they meet in the middle, Tony nearly running into her and knocking her over.
He stands before her, mouth hanging open, unsure of what to say.
She mirrors his expression, a silent desperation in her eyes.
He swallows against a lump forming in his throat.
"Have we...met somewhere before?" he finally manages to ask.
"I…" She shakes her head, looking torn. "I don't know."
"You seem—"
"—familiar."
"Yeah."
They fall into a brief silence then, only to be broken by a car honking.
Right. They're kind of in the middle of the street.
"Here, let's—" He takes her arm gently, guiding her back to the street corner she came from.
She stiffens somewhat at his touch, looking at him in surprise.
"We've met before," she says with certainty once they're safely on the sidewalk.
"I think so, too," he says.
Her eyes are glossy, but she smiles brightly. His hand remains on her arm as he clears his throat, feeling heat rise to his cheeks.
(The familiarity transforms into something else—something safe, and warm, and fulfilling, and reassuring.)
Simultaneously, they ask,
"What was your name again?"