This is my first story, and it was unbeta-ed, so please forgive any mistakes. I welcome criticism, so if you have any advice for me, please share it. I hope you enjoy this, and please review!
"Whiskey." Tony Stark slammed his empty glass down on the slick wood of the hotel bar. The bartender raised an eyebrow at the request. He would have expected Tony to be passed out on the floor by now, but he wasn't even slurring his words.
"Whatever you say, mate," came the dubious reply. Tony lifted the replenished glass of alcohol to his lips and took a big gulp. The fire felt good on the back of his throat, allowed him to believe that the scratchiness there might be from the drinks he'd had, and not something else. Tony knew he never should have come. It was Pepper's big night, and he didn't want to spoil it for her. Then again, that was the reason he had come in the first place. He wanted to see her pleased with him.
He picked up the glass again and swiveled around on his stool to look out at the party. It was full of rich people. Their jewelery glittered under the hotel lights. Pepper approached him, leading her new husband by the hand. "Tony," she said, smiling to all get out, "Tony, you've got to be in the picture." He smiles, if only to watch her smile in return, and sets down his drink. They hurried to join a growing group of wedding attendees, and Tony found himself dragged to what had become the front row of the group. He was standing next to Pepper, sandwiching her between himself and her new husband. Despite the close proximity he managed not to touch her, forced himself not to touch her, to maintain that centimeter of space between them. He knew that touching her, even for a moment, even an innocent brush of hands, would send him over what remained of the edge. He looked straight ahead, toward the cameraman. Everyone was ready now, standing in two ordered ranks.
"Everyone smile!" the camera guy said. So Tony did. He smiled like the poker player he was, he knew that no one, looking at the photographs later, would see through his facade.
Click.
It was over with, the moment captured for posterity. Gradually the people broke up into smaller groups, and Tony was shuffled in and out of the camera's view like so much luggage. Like a prop, he thought.
Click.
He wasn't sure how many pictures had been taken of him tonight. He didn't really care. But the muscles in his face were starting to feel stiff from smiling. From a lie.
Click.
If he thinks about it, his life has always been this way. He's always lived in front of a camera. His life had always been about looking good, about upholding an image. Admittedly, it wasn't that of a saint. But Tony liked to enjoy himself, and he was a genius, and a billionare, and if he wanted to go out and have a few drinks (or more than a few) with a hundred or so of his geographically closest friends, who was there to say no?
Click.
Pepper, that was who. Pepper was the one who'd always kept tabs on him, who wouldn't let him drive if she saw him drunk. The one who made sure all of his paperwork got finished and signed, who said all of the things that he should say. She was the one who kept him from self-destructing. But now she was gone.
Click.
But she wasn't gone, she was standing right next to him. And he was smiling and wearing this stupid tux with his hair slicked back, taking pictures. He could just see the magazine spread this wedding would get. Front page, probably. No one would notice the pained look in his eye. The only person who knew him well enough to see it was Pepper, and when she looked at these photographs, she wouldn't be looking at him.
Smile for the camera, Tony.
Why had he come tonight? Oh, right, he was self-destructive. He was a master at doing himself harm, and of course, Pepper couldn't stop him tonight.
Smile for the camera.
When this was over he was going to go flying. Straight up, maybe. See how far he could get. Or maybe he'd fly to Dubai. Throw together a party at the house there, and get really drunk. That sounded nice.
Smile.
Or maybe he'd just skip Dubai and go straight to getting drunk. There was enough liquor in his house to drown a whale; there was certainly enough to drown himself. Yeah. He'd just go home and start drinking. And then maybe he'd go flying. Or go for a drive. It really didn't matter what he did, because nothing could be as painful as this.
These pictures could have been perfect. He was wearing a suit and standing next to Pepper, who was wearing a white dress. They were standing in a ballroom crowded with their closest friends and most important colleagues. The decorations were perfect, the music was beautiful, the cake fantastic. The only problem was, there wasn't a ring on Tony's finger. Now, more than ever before, Yinsen's words back in Afghanistan haunted his thoughts. He had just lost the most important person in his life, and the worst part was, he hadn't even realized how much he needed her until now. And now it was too late. Yinsen was right. Now he truly was a man who had nothing.
Click.