((A/N: This is the start of something that I've been considering writing for a while and the idea, along with a certain Mr Stark who wouldn't get out of my head. The next chapter of my other fic will be out soon, thank you for reading and enjoy my first attempt from writing within Starks Head!))
Lets just get this straight before we start, I Anthony Stark, do not give a fuck what my PA does with her life outside of the office, especially not what she does with her love life.
Why would i?
Its never been something I care about, I'm not allowed to, even when I get curious. The devil in Prada heels would unleash her powers on me if she even suspected I was wondering about it. And as much as I pretend I'm not bothered by her, she can be really quite scary. Its probably why she still has her job.
Anyway, My life has better things to contain, like science and experiments and not running my own company and a very nice new brand of whiskey I've discovered.
That's something I learnt within the first week of working in the same building as Pepper Potts, that you just don't ask her about relationships unless you want your head biting off, and I don't mean the one on your shoulders. Along with the fact she doesn't drink and doesn't smoke and will look at you like she's going to throw something heavy at you if you suggest it.
She's always completely confused me to be honest, because no matter what, she'd always at work on time, done up to the nines and giving me the unimpressed look of the day (she's got one for every day of the week, its usually how I work out which day I'm supposed to be on) before scolding me for whatever I've done now, because according to Virginia Potts everything is my fault. Don't tell her but quite a lot of the time it is, but who doesn't enjoy an argument over breakfast?
When I get breakfast. Which I don't seem to be getting yet! Next time I'm bored I'm making me a breakfast robot, even though DUM.E can do toast it doesn't mean I can eat it.
I swear that woman would still be at work even if there was suddenly an apocalypse and everything collapsed and died and turned into zombies, I'd still get a grumpy red-head dragging the covers off me at 8:05am. According to her it's never 8:00am because she'd always hoping I might possibly have gotten my own arse out of bed before she manages the five minute walk up the stairs. I never do, probably never will do because it's quite nice just to see her leaning over me every morning.
The only time it doesn't work is Shark week (also known as pepper-potts-is-on-her-period-shes-more-dangerous-then-normal-don't-go-near-if-you-want-to-keep-your-job-and-your-balls-week) because those are the mornings when she just pours cold water over my head and stands there glaring at me until I get my soggy butt out of bed.
But this morning is weird, which is probably why I'm talking to you about it. And someone said talking to yourself was useful psychology nonsense or rubbish or something. I might have to buy a diary if I keep this up.
She's not here, I'm 8:34am and Tony Stark is still in bed with last night's blonde trash on his arm. Yeah I call them trash, she started using it and its much easier than attempting to remember their names and I may have accidently called her Pepper last night whilst we were getting it on, and its not the first time I've done that to someone. Not my fault the silly girl looks so much like her, just not as pretty or ginger, and I can't play dot to dot with the freckles up her right arm in a business meeting with someone from china. Pep's make a slightly sideways bird thing, but this woman has had her blemishes surgically removed I'm certain of it.
And she's got breast implants. Seriously? It felt more like playing with lumps of jell-o that didn't want to be squished. I bet she looked beautiful without them, now she just looks like she'd going to fall flat on her face every time she walks.
What is it with women and plastic surgery? Some of the girls I've run into lately have been that filled with face glue I don't even get a smile out of them. Whats the point of something that doesn't even give you a proper expression when you're deep between its legs? I've always prided myself on making a woman scream, and when they're filled with botox they pull the same expression at me that they do when they're having a shit!
I think its one of the many things I find so entertaining about my PA, her expressions, especially her smile. Which I think I've only earned three times in the past god knows how many years, the latest one being when I finished all my paperwork without being asked or threatened. Pepper looked so delighted I thought she might burst. I can't remember the last time she'd actually been able to leave the office at 5pm on a Friday night.
I didn't particularly want her to leave, call me childish but I'm no good at entertaining myself, it's part of why I spend so much time out doing things or playing with the bots in the lab, means I've got someone to keep me company. Its probably part of the reason why I have JARVIS, so I've never completely on my own.
But anyway, Pepper's still not here, Its 8:39am and I've still got the trash on my arm…. Which probably means I have to get rid of it?
I'm not even quite sure how to do it. What do I do with it?
…
Sneaking out of bed was harder than I thought, I woke it up. But I've finally sent her packing with a fake phone number and assorted sympathies for the fact her hips are so sore.
I don't really care, I'm more bothered that I've actually dragged my own ass to the office, and that I've dressed myself and everything else. I'm sat in my office looking at my paperwork! I'm about to do it. Actually sign my name on something that I've read six times over.
Fucks sake Pepper where are you.
I'm actually starting to worry about her, its well over an hour past her usual turning up in my room time and still no sign. I'm not going to call her, that's just not my style. It'll sound like I'm desperate then.
If she wants the day off work it doesn't bother me, I'll just not pay her.
But the sound of heels on the tiles has just (finally) stopped me feeling sick, thank god, because I know those sounds all too well. That's the sound of my PA running down the corridor, hopefully with my coffee in one hand and my breakfast in the other.
"Mr Stark?" The door slides open and she's standing there, panting a little and her hairs a mess, it look like a birds nest all piled on top of her head. You wouldn't think I'd notice exactly what her hair and her dress and her make-up looks like every day, but I do. And today she looks like a mess and like she's in a complete daydream.
"Yes, Miss Potts?" My voice is sharper than usual and I'm not looking up at her, I don't like this, Pepper smells wrong, she looks wrong and her lips are ever so slightly swollen. She puts what she's brought me on the table and steps back. I'm still not doing to look at her.
"I brought the usual order, and cancelled this morning's meeting. It seems our client no longer needs to meet with you as we settled the business deal over the phone." She pauses, obviously waiting for my response but she's not getting one: "Our next meeting will be in three weeks when we've sorted the first or-"
"You're late." I point out bluntly, unable to keep it in any longer.
"I know" She's shifted awkwardly, cocking one leg slightly as she does, Pepper always does that when she's worried about something.
"Why?" I'm not going to ask anything else now am i?
"Because I am." Pepper retorts grumpily, turning away from me.
"That's not a reason pepper…"
"Why do you insist on getting one! I'm late, and I'm going to go and return to work as always and you're going to sit there and be useless as always." Usually by now we're arguing, I'm not listening and she's just getting frustrated, but I can't be bothered right now. Anyway, she gets more amusing the less noticed I take of her and right now she could do to cheer me up somehow, before I march off the lab and get on with whats in my head right now. (quantum physics, I've got something I want to try that came into my mind when I was with that trash.)
Hang on, she's just walked out of here without me even noticing! At least I got my coffee out of her, that's always a good th-
Or not. It's the complete wrong thing. Ew.
Which only means one thing, which is the same thing it always means and I swear she's done it on purpose.
Pepper Potts has slept with someone.
And it wasn't me.