Disclaimer: Uh, no.
A/N: So...this is set pre-Iron Man in the movieverse, from Pepper's POV. It just wouldn't leave me alone, so I wrote it down :) May be continued to...become a twoshot, I guess, to show how she dealt with Afghanistan - depends. For now though, it's complete.
Warning: This was written at 12:05 (am). It may be strange.
All Of Them
Pepper knows it was never just her.
She knows it's the same with all of them.
The same face that lights up in wonder and what must be false vulnerability when she opens the door.
(Her heels click down the stairs. Her chin's high, ready to hate him for skipping his latest meeting, missing his deadline for the missile plans, making her show his latest woman out the door because he simply does not care. Mr. Stark turns and a second before the public image of Anthony Stark reaches his face she sees real, genuine happiness. Like when she ordered pizza after a meeting for him – with his money – or when he beat Jarvis at chess (due to a "slight programming error", but the slightly displeased tone of his AI's voice seemed to be worth it) or when he came back from an afternoon of doing nothing but zooming around in his racecars. It's not even lust, or greed, or the pride that characterizes his every move. It makes her feel special – like he's showing her a part of his feelings no one else sees.
(But Pepper knows he does it to all of them.)
Annette. Priya. Rose. Monique. Christine.
The little things he does for her.
(The new shoes on Christmas – with a free load of suggestive comments she rolled her eyes at. The way he was so eager to show off the holograms for the Jericho – even before releasing it to the board for mass production. The upgrades he did on the alarm clock she took with her everywhere. The blue dress on her birthday she swore she'd never wear – knowing that she would.
(But Pepper knows that he isn't always there for her. Pepper knows that he does it to all of them.)
Liana. Elise. Kathy. Zara. Marian.
He doesn't remember their names - but she does.
She wishes she didn't envy them so much.
Didn't have a conscience, didn't understand loyalty and strength and independence. Didn't get so attached to things that are made to be broken.
She closes her eyes, tilts her head back, presses the heels of her hands into her eyelids.
They have something special. Fragile. Something approaching friendship while she holds it back and says "don't go too far."
Pepper calls him Tony in her head. Then tries not to blush because that's what she hates, that's what they all call him, as if they already own him, as if they're the ones he'll love for real this time. And Pepper isn't – won't – can't be like that.
He's such a child. Wanting attention – so much attention. Wanting love, but not the commitment that comes with it. Wanting presents, but not a two-way deal. Wanting the whole world at his feet, without giving anything in return.
Can he really help that?
Does he have to, when Pepper knows how much she loves him?