I can't believe I had the courage to start off this one, it has been such a wild ride with a massive plot coming on its heels. It's been a while since I've written an in-depth threesome piece with complex characterization. Alas, I want to thank SainTalia for her encouragement and beautiful inspiration in Hardwired for making this possible. I simply wouldn't have done it without her. :)
Also, just a note, for those who are weary. I am not rewriting Iron Man 2 piece by piece, it'll probably be taking on Canon Divergence from very early on. If it is not already considered so with Tony's intense introspection and so forth.
But other than that, I do my honeys will enjoy this rare pairing I simply cannot get out of my head. I can't wait to continue writing it either.
Prologue: Iron-Red Dust
~ The Merchant Prince, now home to dust and the shadows of death, was a final ripple of intimate remorse and timeless, perfumed, sorrow. ~
Tony Stark was reeling internally. The overwhelming taste of transience at the tender age of forty, constructing a heady bitterness deep within the recesses of his brilliant mind. He was gazing distantly at the unassuming wooden cigar box, clenched in the quiver of trembling fingertips, as he wondered briefly just how many more depleted cores it would take to shatter the illusion he had forcibly convinced himself he could survive.
He could vaguely remember; the staggering palladium inserts having dwindled down from its customary ten to six before rising and falling once more to the measly four now staring back at him. Several holographic projections were polarising acetylene-blue particles in the air around him, eight transparent 22-inch, free-form, HUD monitors surrounding the large steel and glass desk he was seated behind as he barely noticed the twin row of cars and motorcycles stretching out before him.
Jarvis had already deconstructed the morning weather report several hours before, the Malibu coastline no likely glimmering evocatively in the early-afternoon rays as the untamed ocean tides continued its ebb and flow far below. Time had become a fickle mistress, emotionally dilated Türk Kahvesi brown eyes barely aware of the ever-busy machine parts bustling in the workshop and Dum-E and U flitting in and out of his periphery. His darling J was deliberately keeping the Bots and a maximum number of projects running, all in a bid to offer his creator a brief moment of much needed rest.
Dragging irritable, machine-oil and solder stained fingertips through impishly styled, gravity defying mahogany locks; Tony was well aware it had been over forty-three hours since he last experienced the desire to eat or sleep. A new sensation of blossoming mania was urging him to set aside all else in favour of securing the last of his encompassing legacy. Expanding on technological innovation was but a small reason why the dateline for the Stark Expo in Flushing, New York had been sped up.
Not that anyone else was aware of the real reason, mind.
With the increasingly visible rise of percentage in his blood toxicity, a disheartening 12% as of that morning; Tony was well aware he was starting to lose his fight with palladium poisoning. He could supress the inevitable and hope to tack on a few more months onto his life, yes. Nevertheless, sooner, rather than later; there would come a time where nothing preventative would even matter.
Barely even flinching at the stinging bite of blunt fingernails digging into the palm of his hand, a frustrated fist nearly cracked the one-inch thick glass expanse he has leaning against as he forced himself to take several slow breaths. This wasn't a time for self-pity, he knew. An overwhelming sense of loss invading the very depths of his soul as he struggled with the inevitability of what was to come. There was no viable way to break the chains of his mortality, in the end. It was—.
"How may I be of assistance, Mr Stark? The unexpected increase in your heartrate and—."
"Dying's a bitch, Jarvis." Tony interrupted sarcastically, reddened knuckles turning a stark white against the edge of the desk as he heaved himself onto unsteady feet. Smoothing down the wrinkles of an oil-stained long-sleeved shirt and navy-blue hoody, spots of impossible black were creeping into the periphery of his vision as a wave of nausea roiled unexpectedly through the pit of his stomach. Dark eyes were turning imploringly, helplessly, towards the closest camera sensor.
"…Sir?" Tony could sense a static pause of unease crawling through the concrete walls, a distraught frequency, barely audible to the human hearing range; indicating the electronic equivalent of despaired inhalation and rapidly expanding unease. Damn! That was one tease too far, he could literally feel the vibrations of howling anguish abruptly stalling the work in his mechanical paradise.
"Sir, I—."
"Sorry, buddy. That was…" He trailed off, unable to find the words to expound his thoughts but knowing instinctively Jarvis would understand. He always, always did.
"I have run simulations and possible permutations of every known element on earth. None of which, can serve as a viable replacement for palladium. Perhaps it is time to let—."
"No." The genius interrupted swiftly, already guessing what would come next as he took a deep breath to steady himself. "It's alright, baby. We'll figure something out." He soothed quietly, the lie manipulatively easing the perfumed sorrow encompassing Jarvis' reverberating presence. There was no need to make Tony Stark 'dying' more complicated than it needed to be, he didn't want others to know the inevitability of his fate just yet. Tony was smart enough to know how to take this fall on his own, with or without the emotional support of the only other person who seemed to matter to him in the world.
"Think you can manage on your own for a while?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Good boy. I've got to go see a man about donating an art collection." Placing one sneaker-clad foot in front of the other, an absentminded wave articulated his temporary good-bye as the genius billionaire left in search of a shower and more presentable clothes. God, Pepper would probably kill him if he so much as thought of leaving the house in his current state. Two days without a shower, little to no sleep or any real food to keep him going… he had lost more than enough weight to give away more than he was willing to share.
The inexorable decision to preserve his art collection through the Boy Scouts of America however, would probably light a searing fire beneath his PA's delectably curved backside. A bubble of amusement was cackling briefly passed dry lips, Tony shameless enough to admit he was doing it, in part, just to place himself at the centre of Pepper's flaming wrath. It was always a treat to see those delicate freckles darkening significantly or the downturn of frustration sculpting perfectly painted lips.
"Is Pepper in today, J?" Stumbling out of the shower in search of more business-appropriate attire forty-five minutes later, nimble fingers were shuffling through the contents of his neatly-kept, two large bedroom-sized, walk-in closet as he reached for the more eccentric dark mulberry and orange pinstripe custom Armani three piece.
See, he could dress himself appropriately without Pepper, okay? He just didn't like it.
The addition of orange and white sneakers and a perfectly matched tie, tethered the last of the outfit with a neat little, debonair, Windsor knot and dark designer sunglasses. Never let it be said that Tony Stark didn't look good in literally anything he wore, even the bold and bright colours opening up to a free-flowing wide cut trouser leg and a traditional double-vent blazer contouring to the sensual curve of his spine.
"If you are quite done admiring yourself in the mirror, Sir. I shall repeat that it is Sunday, and although Miss Potts usually takes the day off. She arrived a few hours ago from a friend's wedding to complete outstanding forms for the government hearing two weeks from now. She is however, currently indisposed."
"Indisposed?" He echoed briefly, sheer disbelief bringing a decisive halt to the last of the billionaire's fusing as he ruffled one last artistic caress through product shined mahogany brown strands in the bathroom mirror. God, he really needed some coffee. The near silent beat of footsteps, trotted seamlessly down the wide spiral staircase towards the first floor as he said nothing against the slightest spin of exhaustion swiftly greeting him at the bottom.
Dark eyes were instinctively roving the modern glass, steel and white leather lounge for the only other human he willingly allowed inside his private space. A slight feminine frame was partially spread out across a cream chaise lounge, a halo of long, effervescent rose gold strands feathered evocatively across a dark green throw pillow as Tony couldn't quite conceal the hitch of surprise stalling his very breath.
Indisposed, Jarvis had said. Pepper had clearly fallen into careless somnolence in resplendent repose, stretched (doll-like), on her side whilst the late-afternoon rays shimmered creamy-white across freckle peppered skin. A vast array of scattered papers, messy folders and a humming laptop not far from her on the floor, indicated, what the billionaire was sure, was but a small source for her current exhaustion.
The steady rise and fall of her breast, belayed a carefully rested state as dark eyes struggled to look away from the deep, shimmering, vintage 50's style dress partially hiked up her thigh. The rich royal-blue dupioni silk was flaring a tea-length skirt and frothy white underskirt in evocative waves around her frame, painting a hauntingly beautiful picture down to very professional curl of her hair and glistening gold dusting along, long, curled, lashes.
Only adding to the picture, were those sexy, fuck-me, five-inch black and red-soled Louboutin heels Tony loved so much. There was no denying that she was a woman of professional and natural grace, a violent clash of attraction, along with the sweet but bitter taste of a long-standing want, creeping unrestrainedly into the back of his throat as he wrenched himself away from the hauntingly beautiful sight.
Shit, he could barely remember to control himself at times. Every glimpse of her untethered beauty and soft femininity reminded him of thoughts he had been having for a very long time now, the long-standing truth he had realized himself about a year and a half ago and her soft deceleration of 'You are all I have too, you know.'
How could Tony have dismissed Pepper's constant devotion and unwavering loyalty to him for over eight painful years? She was clearly a very capable and strong-willed woman, ever assured in her awe-inspiring confidence and compassion. And she clearly had the will to drop anything and everything in order to return to his side, including what would clearly have been plans to enjoy herself at a friend's wedding.
Tony didn't like it when she had plans. He never did. It was—.
"J?" The billionaire called quietly, automatically allowing hurried strides to guide him towards the underground workshop in search of the soft woollen throw that practically lived on his leather couch. There must have been countless other blankets spread throughout the house, most of them without the smell of motor-oil and the workshop ingrained into its fibres. But, to Tony, the threadbare softness of regular use and genuine comfort it provided made it his first and last choice.
Even if he didn't want to admit it was because he couldn't remember where the rest were.
"Have U make a fresh cup of tea for Pepper when she wakes, make sure he doesn't break the upstairs kitchen while I'm away."
"Of course, Sir." Came the perfunctory reply. "Shall I include her favourite blend and sugar quantity as well?"
"Whatever she likes, Jarvis." When he reached the living room again, Tony carefully drew the tasselled edges over a delicate frame and three-quarter lace sleeves. Greedily drinking in the flicker of goose bumps shivering all the way down her skin at the foreign caress, heavy-lidded brown eyes couldn't help but follow the dusted constellation travelling, partially concealed by sheer fabric, all the way down the open neckline displaying a peak of voluptuously weighted breasts.
God, she was beautiful—. It made him ache with want and need, shuddering unexpectedly at the possessive sensation it invoked in the depths of his gut as he forcibly dug blunt fingernails into the skin of his palm. The grounding flash of pain was enough to settle his currently spinning emotions for a few minutes, lust fogging up the peripheries of his vision as turned on his heel and went in search of the keys to his Audi R8 Spyder.
And if he hit the high-way at dizzying speeds, allowing the sound and vibration of a sleek engine to boost the erratic race of sex in his veins, he barely noticed. Tony was allowed a moment of hedonistic indulgence every once in a while, he mused. With the howling wind and flitting thoughts his only companion, spikes of vibrant adrenalin were boiling possessively behind the strain of the Arc Reactor in his chest.
A genuine smirk of satisfaction was curling up the corner of a perfectly groomed goatee, coffee brown irises shimmering with sheer delight at the smooth acceleration beneath his feet. If he kept his thoughts carefully trained on the tasks that still had to be accomplished before his death, there was one truth he was assured he would be telling his dearest Pepper sooner rather than later.
If only for the peace of his and her mind, she deserved so much better.
. . .
Waking in unfamiliar places had always been a significant struggle for Pepper Potts. Drifting into gentle consciousness in the familiar depths of the Malibu mansion however, had become an unusual source of comfort she was desperate to experience. The continuous hum of open acoustics seeping through the walls, the solicitous vibration of a sentient AI's constantly running matrix in the downstairs server room and the soft scent of open ocean air, expensive cologne, workshop oil and metal was a well-known but soothing veneer.
Enveloped in the unexpected miasma of Tony's personal scent of fragrant bergamot, black pepper and spiced rum that day, long, gold dust, lashes fluttered opened with surprise as she blinked hazily at the sight of a very familiar blanket drawn comfortingly up to her shoulders. There was a shadow of movement in the corner of her eye, swiftly drawing coral-reef irises towards a displaced but slowly approaching U.
A low chuckle of amusement was lodging playfully in the back of her throat, a rapid series of excited beeps and riveting whines drifting over to acknowledge her newly awakened state as a silver tray swayed precariously in the grasp of the bot's claw. There was a delicate china saucer catching excess droplets of steaming hot tea running over the rim, the playful addition of a bow tie on the pincer a quirky little item Tony no likely couldn't resist.
"Good evening, Miss Potts." Jarvis' cultured voice skimmed welcomingly against the shell of her ear. "I trust you had a pleasant rest?" Quietly widening the small smile curling up the corner of lusciously painted lips, the ever-competent PA thanked her clearly proud helper for bringing her tea and answered Jarvis with well-practised but genuine graciousness. She was reluctantly folding back the warmth of the throw around her shoulders, having completely forgotten the over-dressed state she had stumbled into the mansion with.
The fact that she had fallen asleep around a pile of work that couldn't wait until tomorrow, clearly a warning she was running herself ragged. Not to mention, Pepper was going to need something much stronger than caffeine if she was going to parse the complex legalities of the upcoming Senate Arms Committee hearing. God, it was bad enough Tony wanted to open the Stark Expo an entire month early. Never mind the fact that the looming trail date was exactly 9 A.M in Washington the day after the official keynote speeches.
Curling elegant fingertips around the warmth of her tea-cup, the soothing taste of honey and cream was a rare indulgence she allowed herself to have before violently pushing back the mortification of having been caught so out of sorts. It wouldn't be the first time she had fallen asleep here, yes. But it was the first time Mr Stark had personally brought a blanket up from the workshop.
"Is Tony in, Jarvis?" She asked quietly, hoping to break the current inefficiency of her thoughts as she smoothed down the folds of her dress and walked over to floor-to-ceiling windows. There was a camera projection of her appearance materializing right before her, bless the darling AI for his insight as the patter of confident heels on marble floor tapped a familiar idiosyncratic beat belonging only to her.
Intelligent blue eyes were gazing nonchalantly over the rapidly darkening ocean-dusk, sleep-mussed, rosé-amber curls carelessly swept aside over her shoulder as long tresses tumbled evocatively all the way down her spine. The pad of her thumb was coming up to resituate an out-of-place smear of crimson on the corner of her mouth. Sleeping in full make-up had never been the best of ideas, she mused. Alas, when you are running on about twelve-hours total in the last six days, it was inevitable.
"I believe Sir has requested you be sent home for the evening, Miss Potts. Shall I call a car for you?" Shaking her head in the negative, the thirty-six-year-old gathered up the most important of her papers as she clicked a decisive rhythm towards the first stair leading downwards. Finding her eccentric boss was like following a trail of technological breadcrumbs some days, the rhythmic swivel of cameras following her every move towards the stairs as the muffled but leaking beat of The Clash slowly drifted against her skin. It had to have been blasting at deafening decibels to reach here—.
"Sir wishes not to be disturbed for the rest of the evening. I can call Mr Hogan to drive you home, Miss Potts. You seem exhausted enough."
"No, darling." She purred lowly. "I believe Mr Stark and I have some business to attend."
"If you insist, Pepper." The timbre of Jarvis' voice was tinged with the flush pleasure it always adopted whenever she called him 'darling' or 'dear'. The AI was always impossibly sweet, the encompassing reach of his personality violently breaking through the playful formality they hadn't really used for many years now.
"When's the last time Mr Stark had something to eat?" There was a hesitant vibration washing over her shoulders, prompting blue irises to look towards the closes camera sensor as she came to a halt on the centre of the stairs. It was never a good sign when Jarvis hesitated, it was an indication he was running intensive calculations to justify breaking his Master's confidence.
"Fourteen hours ago, Sir had half an apple and a bottle of water. Nothing substantial for close to thirty-eight hours now." Allowing a frown of concern to furrow her brow, Pepper requested the usual order of Chinese Tony would eat after days of nothing as she worried about his manic tinkering and decreased appetite as of late. It had been more than a year and half since the billionaire had been this neglectful, not since he had returned from Afghanistan and begun work on the Mark II.
Punching the last of her entrance code into the glass panel before her, a flutter of nerves resettled the folder against her side as rapping black Louboutin's glided smoothly passed Tony Stark's inner most threshold. She offered Jarvis a quiet nod of gratitude as he lowered music volume, watching with a smile of amusement as a definitive bang against the open Audi R8 hood startled the engineer from his deep concentration buried in the engine.
"Please don't turn down my music." Smiling serenely at his instantaneously disgruntled expression, Pepper Potts rose a single brow of disapproval at the beautiful Armani suit now partially ruined with smears of grease and engine oil. A pair of designer sunglasses was sitting jauntily atop of the genius' head, a quietly soft expression settling deep in haunting brown irises as a shiver of intensity crept all the way down the length of her spine.
She had been finding herself the focus of that gaze for several months now, each time settling a slow blooming warmth in the pit of her stomach as she offered a fondly exasperated twist of her lips in return. The clatter of a tool on a metal bench drew her attention back to Tony, nimble fingers swiping away the worst of the stains on his hands before he invaded her privacy and curled a warm grip around her upper arms.
"You look absolutely stunning, Potts. Why don't you dress like this every day?" Scoffing briefly at the claim, it didn't bear the discussion of strict formal clothes versus business appropriate when tension was this thick. Alas, his sincere compliment was a welcome flutter against her ribs. Nudging his looming presence away from her, her heels gave her a height advantage over his frame as she tapped the centre of the Arc Reactor to open up a gap between their personal space.
"Don't you dare get my dress dirty, Tony." She warned sternly, offering a nod of approval as he withdrew his hands and rocked impatiently closer on his heels instead.
"You need to sign—."
"I want a vacation." He spoke at the same time as her, smile broadening at the alarmed expression she threw in his direction. "I want to go see the races in Monaco. It's been over two years since I've gone, Pepper. Let's get away from everything for a while. I...just—." Blowing out an angered sigh at the abrupt change in topic, Pepper was curling long fingers into frustrated fists by her side as she prayed desperately for patience.
God, she could barely breathe. Yet, seeing the unusually sombre expression creeping over Tony's features; it was going to a nightmare turning down those pleading brown eyes now. She could barely find it in herself to refuse. He was tired, she could see. Not just physically but emotionally as well. And if anyone deserved a break, it was him. He had been working so hard to stabilize the unsettled relations between the East and the West, protecting the country and saving countless lives in the process.
Pepper couldn't have been prouder of him than she already was. So, with the drooping of her shoulders, rouged lips pulled into a gentle smile as she gave a quiet nod and said:
"I'll see what I can do." This was just like every other day, one crisis averted for another. Not to mention the hell in press and legalities she would have to transverse to please Mr Stark.
Luckily, the Monaco races were a week after the Stark Expo opening. It gave her more than enough time to plan a workable schedule.
Thank you so much for reading, I really appreciate it. If I may be so bold as to ask for a small little review for my hard work, I would be eternally grateful to you. It feeds my muse and speeds up updates, for the most part.
Any question, comments or notes my Honeys wish to make, please don't be afraid to ask or discuss. I shall always get back to you as soon as possible.
Yours Always
Chocolate Carnival