AN: This is coming from a brain rattled with allergies, belonging to a person who has been bed-ridden all day. This arose out of my sheer boredom and lack of energy to do much else but write. Enjoy.
-O-O-O-
He felt sick. Strangely enough he was completely sober, staring through the vaulted windows of a conference room, watching a couple share a hurried kiss and cuddle before the next meeting. She was perched on the table, quite improper for her, ankles crossed neatly. Her perfectly manicured hands gripped his elbows, clad in an expensive business suit. They weren't even doing anything particularly interesting. Just staring at one another in that sickening way that lovers do. Now and then in the florescent light, Tony would catch her blush deepen and she'd look away shyly. He'd reach up a hand to comb a piece of hair behind her ear.
The wedding had been beautiful. Of course he'd gone. She'd invited him, and after six years of employment, especially in a position as close to him as a personal assistant, he'd gone. They were friends. That's what she'd said, at least. So why would he not go to a friends wedding?
She was gorgeous in that ivory colored dress, red hair all pinned up and fancy. She was ethereal that night. And happy. The happiest he'd ever seen her. And he couldn't help but be happy for her. Because she deserved him. And he deserved her. She deserved a man better than Tony himself, better than the drunkard who couldn't carry himself up the stairs at the end of the night. Who wouldn't treat her like a nursemaid. And he deserved the brightness in her eyes, the glow of her smile, more than Tony would ever be worthy of it.
But he'd never actually say any of this. He'd done everything he could to keep from admitting it to himself. But it was undeniable. He was in love with her. With something he couldn't have. And for a man that was used to getting everything he wanted, this put him in a strange position. He could continue with nightly conquests picked up after several sips from a martini glass. He could do so without any second thoughts. Because she wasn't his. Because he had no responsibility to anyone. Because he was rich, and he was Tony Stark, and he could do whatever he wanted. He wasn't supposed to settle down, wasn't supposed to be in any kind of lengthy relationship; he was celebrity after all. It came with the title.
But everything came back to her. Everything hinged on her presence in his life. Without her, he had nothing. It was almost pitiful how attached he'd become to her in six years. He'd never show it, never say it. But he knew it. And as much as the will to deny it bubbled inside him, he could not ignore the pull in his chest when he saw her kiss another man, no matter how small that tug was.
-O-O-O-
He knew what had happened before he'd even asked. She showed up to work five minutes late, showing no signs of dishevelment, perfectly primped and polished as always. But one thing could not be ignored. Anyone else would've never picked up on it. But he had.
She'd forgotten her earrings.
Throughout the years he'd seen countless pairs, none of which he remembered as particularly significant. There were long, dangly ones she wore at dinner parties. Tiny silver ones that went nicely and professionally with her work attire. A few different shapes of diamonds. She always wore them, even if she wore no other piece of jewelry. Always.
But this morning she'd been too bothered or too rushed to put them on.
She'd forgotten. Why?
It was only a few hours later when he entered her office, barging in without knocking as always. He'd caught just the tail end of a phone call.
"No," she'd said, "I can't. I'm sorry….Bye." She ended the call quickly, a little too quickly, and looked up at him expectation.
This was no business partner she was chatting with. This was her husband. Her husband of three years. He'd never known the two of them to have issues, not that he'd ever asked. He always assumed she was happy with her choice. Marriage was never a topic of corporate retreat small talk for them. She didn't bother in his business, and he didn't bother in hers. This was their unspoken rule.
Rules were made to broken.
"Everything ok?" he asked pointedly.
"Of course, Mr. Stark." She reached for a folder across the desk and began organizing it needlessly.
"Really?"
She gave him a look, eyebrows up and head tilted forward. There was a long pregnant pause.
"Its not any of your business," she said finally. She knew that he knew. In nine years, they'd developed a certain unique closeness. A certain intuitiveness about the other.
"Right," he said, and plopped into the chair opposite hers, ready for her to brief him on the week's events.
After nearly thirty minutes of planning and arranging, they finalized his next week's schedule. He didn't ignore the fact that her phone glowed three times during their exchange. All phone calls bearing his name scripted across the screen.
She ignored them all, never turning once to check.
When he rose from his chair, ready to retreat back to his office, he paused at her door for a moment. "You know..." he began, looking over his shoulder at her. "Even though this is coming from me—a single middle-aged guy who beds every hot blonde he sees—you shouldn't have to settle."
He watched her eyes mist suddenly, becoming a darker shade of blue. Before she could respond, he shut the door behind himself.
-O-O-O-
Fourteen days, six hours, and twelve minutes after he left her office, their divorce was finalized. She showed no signs of depression, no changes in her behaviors. He figured the marriage had gone dry long ago, and this was probably long awaited.
It wasn't until a week after their split was official that he got the details.
They were on a plane to Singapore. He'd asked for the cabin lights to be lowered, and had leaned back in his seat to attempt sleep, sunglasses over his eyes, feet propped up on the table between them. Pepper had turned her overhead light on, and was reading a thick paperback novel.
Her voice was quiet when she spoke at first. "Tony?"
"Hmm…?"
"What did you mean that day when you said I shouldn't settle?"
So much for sleep. He opened his eyes, wide awake now. He pushed his sunglasses into his hair. "What?"
"That day. In my office. You told me I shouldn't settle." He had full view of her now, her novel laid in her lap. They weren't boss and employee anymore. They were friends here.
"Because you shouldn't." His voice sounded even more sincere than he'd expected. He swallowed, watching her eyes on him. "You're great, Pepper. And settling for less than anyone who will respect you for all of your greatness is settling. And its not fair to you."
She looked away, staring into the blackness outside the window. "You're right." Her voice was still quiet. He didn't realize he'd leaned forward instinctively in his chair when she reached up a hand t swipe beneath her eye.
"I really did love him."
He felt a strange pang in his chest. "I know you did."
"We were just both always busy. We never had time together."
He wasn't sure how to respond, so he lowered his head. He let the darkness between them hide what he really wished he could say.
Finally, lamely, he spoke. "I want you to be happy, Pepper." It was foreign to his own ears. He had might as well lay out all his feelings for her. They'd always been close, but never intimate like this, and the emotion filling the cabin almost made him dizzy.
He heard her sigh heavily. Like frames on a movie screen, time seemed to jump, and before he was aware of it, he was holding her hand, fingers interlocked.
No more was said. They just sat there, hands clasped, both emptied and yet full of words that couldn't be said. Would probably never be said. It was easier to dance around happiness than to actually achieve it, he thought. Happiness was the one great goal, but fear of having it was enough to deter him from the prize.
She'd always be just within his reach, he thought. It was now his duty to reach up and close the gap.