I actually didn't write this fic - it was written by Kereia, based off of a prompt I gave: "Tony writes a love letter to Pepper. Or attempts to, anyway." She's not very familiar with , so she let me post it.
This was originally posted on livejournal, and has a sequel, also found under my account, called "All These Words."
---
Struggling With Eloquence
By Kereia
---
References for quotes:
[*1] Lord Byron to Lady Caroline Lamb, August 1812
[*2] Oliver Cromwell to his wife Elizabeth Cromwell, 4 September, 1650
[*3] Jane Austen, Persuasion publ. 1817
[*4] Gustave Flaubert to his wife Louise Colet, August 15, 1846
---
I never knew till that moment, the madness of -- my dearest & most beloved friend -- I cannot express myself -- this is no time for words -- but I shall have a pride, a melancholy pleasure, in suffering what you yourself can hardly conceive -- for you do not know me. [*1]
"This is supposed to be a world class poet? You've got to be kidding me." Tony grumbled over the printed page, then, closed the book with a decisive snap. "'This is no time for words.' That's very helpful, your Lordship." His voice was heavy with sarcasm, and he rolled his eyes in frustration.
Tossing the book back onto the pile inside the drawer, he reached for the swan feather quill and dipped it into the black ink well.
My
dearest Pepper, I'm not a man of many words-
He groaned and stopped writing.
That's terrible, he thought. Also, it's a lie. I love to talk. I'm so much in love with the sound of my own voice that I built an AI, so I could talk to someone even when I'm by myself."
He balled up the antique parchment he'd ordered from France and flung it against the glass partition that separated his study from the hallway.
He didn't quite know where he'd gotten the brilliant idea to write a love letter to Pepper, but at the time he'd been all exuberance and excitement, and since Tony Stark never did anything halfway, he'd imported the premium quill, the authentic ink, and the two-hundred-bucks-a-page-guaranteed-original-17th-century stationery, determined to write the best love letter in the history of mankind.
So far, he'd only managed to reduce the fifty page stack on his desk by half; the first twenty-five pages littered the floor of his study, baring various marks of his frustration and the clumsy words of a man utterly in love, but, for the moment, sadly lacking in basic vocabulary.
He'd even bought the books for inspiration.
Hidden in the bottom drawer of his desk were: The Book of Love: Writers and their Love Letters, which shared space with The 50 Greatest Love Letters of All Time, Love Letters of Great Men, and Love Letters: How to Write Them and When to Use Them.
Useless, the whole lot of them.
Thou art dearer to me than any creature; let that suffice. []…though I assure thee, I grow an old man, and feel infirmities of age marvelously stealing upon me. [*2]
"Infirmities? Yes, that should definitely be in there. Dear Pepper, I love you, but even though I am most definitely not a superhero, I still get injured a lot fighting the bad guys, so you shouldn't expect hot, wild, naked sex every night, because I might not be up to it. Love, Tony. P.S. We need to stock up on Viagra, 'cause I'm not getting any younger."
"I'm sorry to hear that. Though I'm sure Pepper will be sorrier."
Tony jumped at the sound of Rhodey's voice. "What are you doing here?"
Rhodey sauntered into the room, a broad grin on his face.
"We had an appointment, remember? I rang the bell for at least ten minutes before Jarvis took pity on me."
"Right. I told him not to bother me unless the house was on fire." When Rhodey snickered, Tony's eyebrows quirked up.
"Sounds like something's on fire, alright." The air force colonel surveyed the mess on the floor, his hands on his hips and an amused expression on his face.
"Very funny."
Rhodey spread out his hands. "Hey, I'm happy for you. You and Pepper, that's been a long time coming, and I'm glad you finally got it through that thick skull of yours that you need to grow up if you want to be with her. But that doesn't mean I won't tease you about it every chance I get."
"I'm touched. Really, I am." Tony tried to glare at his friend, but he couldn't suppress the pleased smile that tugged at his lips.
Rhodey fixed him with a facetiously solemn look. "You really need the Viagra?"
Tony sputtered. It was not something he did often. "No."
Rhodey shrugged. "Just checking." Then, he took one look at Tony's expression and startled… cackling was the only word for it, really.
"So, you're writing a love letter?" Crouching down, Rhodey picked up one of the discarded parchments.
With an expression of alarm, Tony darted forward and tried to snatch the rumpled letter away, but Rhodey stood quickly, put one hand firmly against Tony's chest, and leaned back, his eyes scanning the scribbled lines. He read them out loud.
Dear Pepper, I
know that I've been an idiot for most of the time you've known
me-
"That's good. Chicks dig honesty," Rhodey mumbled.
"Hey!" Tony stopped trying to wrestle the letter away from Rhodey and stepped back, affront written all over his face.
-and I know that seeing me chase every skirt in the country (and several outside of it) is the reason you're reluctant to admit that you're in love with me-
"A bit presumptuous, don't you think?"
Tony met Rhodey's skeptical look head on, all swagger and confidence.
"No. She's crazy about me and we both know it."
Rhodey just stared at him, and it was a testament to their friendship that he actually saw the tiny crack in Tony's mask of bravado – and decided to ignore it. He turned back to the letter.
-Although, you'll have to admit that the experience gained during those – let's call them practice sessions – will certainly be to your advan-
"Oh, god. This is a joke, right? Please, tell me that this is a joke." Rhodey looked horrified.
Tony had the decency to blush. "Well, she will benefit from it."
"Tony, you can't say that stuff to Pepper."
"I know, which is why I'm writing it down."
Rhodey pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed deeply. "This is so bad, man. You need help."
Following his words with actions, Rhodey slipped out of his uniform jacket and pushed up the sleeves of his shirt.
"Hey, now, wait a minute. I don't need your help for this. I read the books; I did the research, and I should really do this by myself."
While Tony didn't want to admit that his confidence had become a bit shaken since he'd started writing, he chose to consider it as nothing more than a minor setback. Accustomed to success, even under the most strenuous of circumstances, Tony did not consider the possibility of failure – not with something as important as this.
Being held prisoner in a cave for three months had stripped him bare of most of his billionaire playboy trappings, replacing his idleness with a mission, his lack of direction with a moral compass, and shifted his restlessness away from pursuing women to – well, pursuing one woman, actually.
Over the years Pepper had become his touchstone, and hers had been the only face that had brought him comfort during his abduction. Three months had been a long time to think, and somewhere between late night board games with Yinsen and the fabrication of his first metal suit, he'd realized that he loved her.
He also knew that his life style up to that point had been unsuitable to recommend him to her. Yet, she seemed comfortable enough with their occasional flirtations, during which both of them took care never to cross that invisible line that separated their professional masks from their real faces.
Afghanistan had forced him to grow up, and now that he was a changed man, he'd done everything in his power to prove to Pepper that he had no intention of ranking her among his many conquests. Instead, he wanted to have an actual relationship, and in the early hours of the morning, he was honest enough to admit that the very concept scared him shitless. He hadn't been in anything remotely resembling a relationship since he'd been in college. He didn't even know where to begin – except that the first step, obviously, had to be convincing Pepper that he was serious about this.
However, so far she had studiously ignored his more subtle efforts, and although he'd seen her look at him once or twice with an expression that made him both hot and hard- and so filled up with longing that he felt he would burst if he didn't pull her into his arms right this second- she had always darted away from him at the very last moment.
The worst thing was that he knew she wasn't intentionally teasing him. He knew her well enough to realize that the soft blush on her cheeks was as real as the fear in her eyes, and it hurt– God, he hadn't realized it would hurt so much- to know that she was afraid he would use her and discard her and trample all over her heart, when in reality, nothing was more precious to him.
Rhodey's voice interrupted his musings. "What books?" he asked curiously. Then, his eyes fell on the open drawer. "Oh, those books."
Before Tony could stop him, Rhodey began riffling through the stack – and he was snickering again.
"Man, Tony, you've got it bad."
Annoyed, Tony walked over and casually kicked the drawer shut, noting with a certain amount of satisfaction that Rhodey had to snap his hand back in order to avoid damage to his fingers.
"You know, while I am glad that I am such a big source of amusement to you, didn't you say something about us having an appointment?"
Despite Tony's attempt to crush his fingers, Rhodey still had that cocky smile on his face. It was irritating.
His whole life, Tony had always had the upper hand, the perfect comebacks, and the unflappable ego to pull of even the most outrageous publicity stunts. Being the butt of the joke was a new experience, and while his inquisitive nature was more than happy to take most novelties in stride- if he didn't try to examine the minutia of them- this was one he could do without.
"Oh, believe me, that's not really important right now."
Rhodey used the opportunity to pick up another piece of parchment from the floor.
My
dear Ms. Potts,
Ms.
Potts,
There was real frustration in the way Rhodey let his hand drop to his side. "Tony, is this supposed to be a love letter or a memo?"
Tony was about to protest when Rhodey steam-rolled right over him. "And what is this? This doesn't look like something you bought recently."
He picked up a dog-eared copy of Jane Austen's Persuasion and held it up, his eyebrows rising almost up to his hair line. "Did you actually read this?"
"Of course, I didn't," Tony snapped. "It was my mother's, and I remembered how she used to go on and on about the letter this Captain wrote to win over the heroine. It's really sappy."
"Uh uhm, sure." Rhodey flicked the book open at a marked page and began to read.
"I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever. I offer myself to you… [] I have loved none but you. Unjust I may have been, weak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant.[*3]
"You know, this isn't half bad, actually– a bit old fashioned, of course."
The truth was that Rhodey was right, and it wasn't the only letter Tony had found that expressed what he wanted to say, but it just wasn't them. He and Pepper had their own rhythm and "you pierce my soul" didn't fit into it, no matter how true the sentiment might be. He needed something with a bit more zest and life and honesty, something that would make her smile, and not laugh at him, and then discard it as one of his more elaborate pranks– something that she would know he'd written all by himself and only for her.
He told Rhodey as much, but his friend had already retrieved the evidence of another failed effort from the floor.
"This is bad," he mumbled under his breath, skimming over the lines. "And getting worse."
Tony had finally had enough. He snatched the letter out of Rhodey's hand.
"You know what, you're no help at all, and I am sure-"
"You're comparing her to your hot rod, Tony."
"That Roadster is a unique piece of engineering and almost as beautiful as she is."
"I agree with you, but it's also a lump of cold metal and wiring and I don't think Pepper…"
"I was trying to convey that she's special."
"You compared her eyes to fifty-five watt headlights."
Tony floundered under Rhodey's sardonic look.
The colonel nodded. "I rest my case. Now, let's see what else we got here."
"Let's not." Tony picked up the uniform jacket from his desk and shoved it into Rhodey's chest. "I am expecting a delivery in an hour, and you're having way too much fun to be productive. So, I'm kicking you out."
Rhodey laid a hand over his heart, struggling for a wounded look. "You're kicking me out? Your best friend? That hurts."
"You bet. Call Pepper to reschedule our appointment."
"Oh, I sure will," he said, mischief dancing in his eyes.
Tony's eyes widened. "You wouldn't dare tell her," he said, alarmed.
Rhodey chuckled. "No, I'm having far too much fun seeing the great Tony Stark struggle for words."
"Out." Tony pointed imperiously towards the door.
Rhodey's laughter echoed through the chrome and glass hallway long after he'd disappeared from sight.
Raking a hand through his hair, Tony sat down at the desk again and snatched up another book.
I will cover you with love when next I see you, with caresses, with ecstasy. I want to gorge you with all the joys of the flesh, so that you faint and die. I want you to be amazed by me, and to confess to yourself that you had never even dreamed of such transports... [*4]
Now, that is a love letter, he thought. However, it still wasn't what he was looking for. What he wanted to say was how much Pepper meant to him, not how eager he was to make love to her all night, though he was very, very eager.
What Pepper needed was an assurance of his honesty. She wasn't a frills-and-sparkles kind of girl who was looking for a grand romantic gesture, and seeing as writing a love letter was already pushing it, he needed to keep it plain and simple. Tony knew that the words were inside of him; he just hadn't found them yet.
With a frustrated growl, he picked up the quill again, dipped it into the inkbottle, and started anew.
Virginia, I
love you. I know that
His hand hovered above the page in hesitation. Slowly, a drop of ink fell from the tip of the sharpened quill and fell onto the parchment, devouring the middle part of I love you.
"Damn it." Tony flung the quill onto the desk and rose. This wasn't working. He was too agitated, too impatient, and far too tense. What he needed was a few hours to relax and order his mind; to get some perspective. And he needed to stop wasting parchment. It would be far more convenient to write the first draft on his computer, edit it, and only commit the final version to paper.
First, he needed to take his mind off the letter, though, and stop fretting about it. There was time. He didn't need to finish it today, or tomorrow for that matter; Pepper would still be here tomorrow. In fact, he could take the rest of the week to perfect the phrasing before he slipped it into her notebook when she went home on Saturday evening.
Satisfied with his plan, Tony headed for his workshop.
He called for the AI the second he'd passed the bullet proof glass security door and entered his sanctuary – the place where he always found solace whenever he felt troubled or when his brain conceived another idea, design, or improvement for the variety of technological gadgets that filled the cluttered space.
The peace he found here was something that few people understood. Every new idea was a spark inside of him that reverberated throughout his entire body urging him to do something, to use his hands and create. It was genius and creativity and magic and insanity, all rolled into one, and this was the only place where he could let it all out and lose himself in the visions his brain conceived.
Pepper had always understood this on some instinctive level, and he couldn't enumerate the times when she had simply slipped into the room with food and coffee (and the occasional bar of soap, attached to a stern note to use the small shower adjoining the work shop) without saying a word, respecting his need to go on for days at a time. Of course, she never hesitated to pull him out of his concentration when he was late for a meeting or needed to sign something that he should have signed three days ago, but that was her job, and he appreciated that she knew when to let him be and when to kick his ass.
"Jarvis?"
"Yes, sir?" The AI's voice filled the silent space, resounding off the gleaming walls.
"How's the render on those new gauntlets coming along?" Tony slipped into his chair and pulled up a screen.
"The render is complete and awaiting your approval." As the deceptively human voice answered his question, the specifications where displayed on one of the screens, and Tony nodded with satisfaction. "Looks good. Let's go with it."
"I am so glad to hear that, sir." Tony's eyebrows rose as he detected the faint note of peevishness in the artificial cadence.
"Something the matter?" he asked, having long ago chosen to stop wondering how or why the AI managed to convey rudimentary emotions, however simulated they might be.
"Analysis of your voice pattern indicates that your stress levels are elevated. I take it that your endeavor to compose a letter to Ms. Potts has failed."
Tony froze. "How do you know about that? I never told you."
The AI's voice sounded positively smug. "You did place the orders for the necessary utensils through me, sir, and considering that you put me under strict orders to keep both this and today's delivery away from Ms. Potts' notice, as well as your unusual lack of female company in the past three months, I am left to surmise that…"
"Alright, that's enough."
"May I offer assistance?" The AI inquired.
Putting down the tools with which he'd been fiddling, Tony ground his teeth. First Rhodey and now Jarvis. This is just great.
"No, thank you." He snapped. "I will write this letter by myself. I have constructed an armored suit out of scrap metal and my own missiles; I can write my own damn love letters. And I certainly don't need any help from an artificial butler, who doesn't even have a heart, much less any real feelings."
"As you wish, sir." Tony wasn't sure, but he could have sworn Jarvis sounded rather put out.
Tony picked up his tools again and walked over to the 1932 Ford Lowboy Flathead Roadster, where he proceeded to dissemble the engine block. The familiar motions calmed him significantly.
Overreacting. He knew he was doing just that, but he couldn't understand why writing a simple love letter had to be so difficult. Maybe it would be better, after all, if he just confronted Pepper straight on and told her how he felt – or he could just kiss her and see how she'd react, forgoing words altogether. Though, it rankled him that this would mean admitting defeat.
It's just a letter, for heaven's sake. If I can't even do that, how will I ever manage to convince her to stay?
And there lay the real crux of the problem. While he'd never been prone of swinging from one extreme to the other, his time in Afghanistan had caused a few one-hundred-eighty degree turns, and wanting Pepper by his side for the rest of his life was simply one of them. It terrified him.
It terrified him because he didn't know how to be a partner. He didn't know how to handle a long term relationship, he didn't know how to have a serious argument, how to compromise, how to make up, or how to make her feel loved and wanted and needed and welcome. He had mountains of money, in which Pepper wasn't interested, and he was great in bed, in which he hoped Pepper was very much interested, but beyond that there was nothing he could offer her but his commitment to learn.
Though he hoped that this would be enough, he began to realize that he'd need all the help he could get.
"Jarvis?"
Silence. Then, with a distinct undertone of reluctance, "Yes, sir?"
"Just out of curiosity, what would your suggestions be regarding that love letter?"
Immediately the screens at his workstation began to glow as columns of blue text scrolled past.
"I have taken the liberty of doing extensive research on the subject, and all publications agree that any sentiment expressed in a love letter should be honest and from the heart."
Tony rolled his eyes and flopped into his chair. "Yeah, thanks. I wouldn't have known that without you."
"Write what you know," the AI continued, unperturbed.
"I know physics, and engineering, a lot of weapons specifications, and the recipes to every alcoholic cocktail known to man, and I'm telling you, none of them can trump a simple glass of bourbon."
"You know that you love her."
Tony wasn't sure why he suddenly felt as if he'd been hit by a freight train. Maybe it was because he'd never actually said it out loud, and maybe it was the level, unsentimental tone in which Jarvis had rendered the statement – a simple fact, irrefutable and true. Whatever the reason, the impact left him reeling.
"Yes." He said quietly, and suddenly he longed for Pepper– physically ached for her to be in his arms, so he could hold on to her, bury his face in the crook of her neck, feel the warmth of her body against his skin, and the comforting rhythm of her pulse beneath his lips.
"Then that will be perfectly sufficient."
"Colonel Rhodes thinks it's a bad idea to compare her to the hot rod." Tony said, desperately trying to regain control of the conversation.
"Try to be more abstract, sir."
Unprompted by him, the keypad began to glow, displaying individual blue lettering, and an empty window popped up on the bottom screen, a straight bar blinking expectantly.
Tony cleared his throat and rested his hands on the keypad.
"Abstract?" he queried, skeptically.
"Yes, sir."
After a moment's hesitation, he tapped his fingertips intently on the keypad, filling the empty space on the screen with honesty and truth. It came easier to him now, as if Jarvis's words had unlocked a door inside of him, revealing something raw and fragile that was eager to be free and cloth itself in fluorescent words.
After a while, Jarvis interrupted him.
"Sir, while Ms. Potts is indubitably an intelligent woman, it is doubtful that she will be wooed by your excessive use of engineering jargon."
Tony blinked and shook his head, as if coming out of a trance.
"Excessive?"
"I'm afraid so."
He carefully read what he had written, frowned, and deleted the last two paragraphs. Drumming his fingertips idly against the arc reactor in his chest, he considered for a moment, then bent to his task again.
A few minutes later, Jarvis cleared his nonexistent throat.
"That will not do at all, sir."
"Why? This isn't technical."
"It's pornographic."
"It's from the heart."
"Medical science indicates that the human heart is located significantly farther north than the organ with which you currently appear to be thinking."
"I don't remember programming you to be a smart ass."
"It's easy to get confused, sir. Would you like me to throw up a chart?"
"NO!"
"If you prefer, I could ask Ms. Potts to prepare a lecture and provide her with the appropriate cue cards."
Tony closed his eyes and bent his head in despair.
The image of Pepper in a Victorian schoolteacher's uniform rose behind his eyelids– stern expression, high collar, disapproving stare, a corset snug around her-
His head snapped back up.
"Oh, that's kinky." He smirked. "I'll have to remember that." He wondered if there was a local costume shop that would sell an outfit like that.
It needs glasses. I bet glasses would look really sexy on her. And one of those sticks she can beat on the desk when I'm not paying attention to what she's saying.
"Jarvis make a note. I have to find Victorian school mistress garb for Pepper."
"Aren't you getting ahead of yourself?" the AI intoned, skeptically.
"Always look to the future, Jarvis. It's no use being stuck in the past."
He glanced at his watch and frowned, noting that the special delivery he'd ordered was running late.
"Jarvis, has there been any confirmation of the shipment yet?"
It took the AI only a moment to access the information.
"Confirmation of shipment arrived at 6 a.m., sir. Transport is on route."
Tony shifted in his chair, his excitement barely contained. He was quite proud of himself that, for once, he'd planned ahead. At his suggestion, Pepper had scheduled all inter-departmental meetings for today, which would keep her at the office until evening. Even though he eventually wanted her to find out what he'd done, he didn't want to make a big deal out of it.
"Let's hope she likes it," he murmured under his breath.
"I would advise asking her yourself, sir. Ms. Potts arrived ten minutes ago."
Tony's head snapped up, a look of consternation on his face, but Jarvis continued before he could say anything.
"May I suggest that you clean up your study, before she-"
"Oh, God."
Not listening to the rest of the sentence, Tony sprang to his feet, ripped open the security door, and dashed up the stairs. Taking two steps at a time, he reached the top and sprinted down the corridor, but when he came around the bend in the hall, he stopped dead in his tracks.
He stared through the glass partition into his unoccupied study- his clean, unoccupied study. His stomach plummeted.
Pepper must have found the letters and– and what? Thrown them away? Ripped them to pieces? Read them and laughed her head off because her boss was a hapless idiot when it came to romance?
He cautiously entered the room and walked around the desk to check the art deco platinum trashcan that he'd never had cause to use before. It was empty.
After a moment's contemplation he snuck back into the hallway– snuck was the only appropriate term, for he stuck his head through the doorframe, looking both left and right before leaving his study– and tried to saunter casually towards Pepper's office. Half way down the hall, he stopped and took a deep breath.
He was being ridiculous. If Pepper had found the letters, he'd have to face the music sooner or later, and Anthony Edward Stark had never shrunken away from adversity. He was determined to convince her that she was the only one for him, and if he couldn't convey it in a letter, then good, old-fashioned words would have to do the trick.
Straightening his shoulders he continued on with a purposeful stride.
Pepper's office was empty.
He continued walking.
The sound of soft laughter reached his ears as he neared the kitchen.
A sudden lump of anxiety rising in his throat, Tony paused and hovered in front of the archway that connected the kitchen to the hall. Inside, he glimpsed Pepper sitting with her back to him, reading a piece of paper she held in her hand.
She was giggling.
Fuck.
He watched her for several minutes, unable to make his feet move. His mind was busy throwing up different scenarios for damage control, but with every minute his nerves became more strained, and when Pepper raised a hand to brush away a merry tear, he couldn't stand it any longer.
Tony Stark did not blush easily, but as he burst into the kitchen, he was willing to bet that the color of his cheeks matched her hair.
"It's not what you think, Pepper. I swear there's a perfectly sound explanation for all of this." The words spilled out of him before he even reached the counter.
With a startled gasp, Pepper rose from the stool.
"Tony, good morni…" Her voice trailed off as his words sank in. "An explanation for what?"
---
Pepper was of the opinion that she'd gotten to know her boss fairly well in the seven years she'd worked for him. She'd seen him drunk, hung over, exasperated, flirtatious, playful, preoccupied, annoyed, and on very rare occasions, professional and contemplative.
Until today, she'd never seen him flustered.
"Tony?" she asked, waving her letter in front of his nose in order to get his attention.
His eyes fixed on the plain white sheet as if he were hypnotized. A second later, his whole body relaxed, and he dismissed her inquisitive stare with a wave of his hand.
"Oh, nothing really. What are you reading?"
He reached for the page, but Pepper quickly pulled it away. "What's going on?" she asked, not fooled for a minute.
"I told you, it's nothing. So, what is this? A love letter from a secret admirer?" he waggled his eyebrows suggestively, but something was off about him. Amused, Pepper cocked a slender eyebrow.
"What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into this time?"
He completely ignored her question. "It's not a notification for a tax audit, is it?"
Pepper hesitated. "No, it's a letter from my old college roommate."
"How is she?"
Pepper just looked at him and tried not to laugh. There had been many occasions when he'd tried to distract her from asking questions he did not want to answer, but he'd never been this obvious.
"You're losing your touch," she stated and hid a smile as she reached for the colorful assortment of business folders on the table.
When she turned back, she was completely unprepared to find him firmly inside her personal space, his dark eyes locking with hers. He didn't touch her, and he wasn't even displaying that familiar cocky smirk that turned her knees to jelly, but the warmth of his body and the scent of his aftershave was enough to make her feel unsteady. It would be so easy to close that gap and lean into him, to feel all that heat and strength wrap around her and lose herself inside his arms.
"I beg to differ, Ms. Potts," he said quietly, the deep cadence of his voice washing over her.
Pepper swallowed. There was a twinkle in his eyes. That was good. She could handle The Twinkle. Smiling sweetly, she planted her hand firmly against the arc reactor above his heart and pushed him backwards.
"I will find out sooner or later, so you might as well come clean."
"Not only do I not know what you're talking about, but I take offense at the suggestion that I can't go five minutes without getting into trouble when you're not by my side."
"I was gone for 14 hours and 33 minutes," Pepper shot back, amused.
"Which means you're back early. I mean, you're welcome to use my kitchen any time you like, but didn't you say something about having to spend the entire day at the office?"
"We finished early."
"You did?"
"We're efficient that way." She stepped past him and made her way to her office, knowing that he would trail after her. They fell back into their rhythm, talking back and forth about everything and nothing- comfortable and familiar– sharing a rapport that excluded the world around them.
Upon reaching her office, Pepper started up her laptop and sat down.
"You have a conference call with the board at five, and the gala at nine, and no, you can't weasel your way out of this one." She smothered his instantaneous protest. "It's a white tie event, which I know you hate, but it's the only way you're going to meet Asram Mashi while he's in the States, and you seem to want that silly little car pretty bad, so-"
Tony held up his hands, interrupting her. "Alright, first of all, a 1930 Bentley Mayfair Coupe is not a silly little car, it's a master piece. You'll understand that, once you drive it, sec-"
"I'm not going to drive it," she interjected, placing the folders underneath her laptop.
"Yes, you will, and you will love it." The corner of his mouth quirked up. "Second of all, a white tie event is torture. Couldn't you have bribed his assistant or something?"
She typed intently on her laptop, her eyes never leaving the screen. "No, I'm afraid this is going to be one of those close-your-eyes-and-think-of-England moments."
"Pepper, I never think of England."
It took a lot of effort not to look up at him when he used that tone of voice– husky and intimate and utterly seductive- but she was determined not to rise to the bait.
She knew he'd changed; she wasn't blind to that, and hyper-aware as she was of the man, it was impossible to misinterpret the desire in his eyes when he looked at her these days. However, even though she had long ago come to terms with the fact that she was hopelessly in love with her boss, Pepper found herself reluctant to leave the safety of their semi-professional relationship behind for the wild water rapids she'd have to brave if she became his lover.
The sex would be fantastic; she had no doubt of that, and sometimes she even believed that he might love her, but living with him from day to day would be fraught with peril, and if it didn't work out– well, she hadn't been bothered by the revolving door of women he'd previously entertained, but she knew that it would be unbearable to see him in the arms of another, now. In fact, the thought alone was physically painful.
"I asked Mira to press your 'Penguin Suit' as you insist on calling it, and-"
"That's because it makes me look like a penguin. I swear the last time I wore it, I even started wobbling like one."
"That's because the last time you wore it, you were drunk," Pepper shot back, her tone neutral. She'd always hated it when he'd indulged the liquor too much, and though he'd become far from abstinent, nothing could have matched her relief at noting that he needed a couple of days to make it through a bottle of scotch these days instead of the mere hour he'd previously required. Of course, even before Afghanistan, she'd never said anything, and sometimes she wondered if she'd been over-compensating to hide her attraction to him.
Yep, that's me. Pepper Potts, consummate professional.
"Well, be that as it may, I need a new one." There was a decidedly urgent note in Tony's voice, which caught her attention.
Curious, she looked up at him. "Why? What's wrong with this one?"
The way his eyes darted up to the right in counterpoint to the crooked smile on his face made Pepper brace herself for the lie that followed. "I don't like it. I need you to go out and buy a new one. In fact, have one tailored that doesn't make me look like a penguin."
He snatched her purse off the desk and held it out to her.
Automatically, Pepper rose and took it out of his hand. "Tony, if you want to have it fitted, you need to come along," she said, wondering why he wanted her out of the house.
He gave her a cocky smirk. "No, I don't. You have my measurements, Ms. Potts, and if there are any-"
"Does this have anything to do with those letters I found in your office when I came in?"
Her words had an interesting effect on him, to say the least. Tony's voice hitched and trailed off, and his eyes widened almost comically as his entire body froze. Pepper had the unnerving impression that she could have knocked him down with a feather. She suppressed the ruthless smirk that threatened to steal onto her face. It was a rare pleasure to catch Tony Stark off guard.
"What do… I mean, did you…" With an obvious effort, he collected himself. A soft, uncertain, almost insecure expression settled on his face and stopped her heart. Suddenly, it was difficult to breathe. She could handle Tony when he was irresponsible; she could handle him when he was reckless and juvenile or injured and morose, but to see him vulnerable pulled with such delicious longing at her heartstrings that she had to look away for fear of doing something she would regret later.
"Did you read them?" he asked quietly, and as his hand brushed against her cheek, she could feel the soft friction of his scars and calluses against her skin, sending an exquisite wave of warmth into her abdomen. Her heart took up a hard, staccato beat, and all she could think was, God, what is wrong with me? Virginia Potts, what are you waiting for?
He tried, she knew that he did. He didn't push her, at least not any more than she let him, and the fact that he seemed determined to make it her decision– to let her come to him- made it even more difficult to resist him. In moments like this, she really didn't know what held her back anymore, except that something did, and, though it was unbearably difficult, she steeled herself and looked up at him.
"No, I told Mira to clean it up." She gave a tiny shrug, hoping that the turmoil of her emotions was not evident on her face. "I just really wanted breakfast." She tried for a facetiously suspicious tone. "But given how you burst into the kitchen all 'I have an explanation', I think I should have read them. I'll have to ask Mira where she put them."
The familiar mask of casual amusement slipped back over his features. "That won't be necessary. Besides you need to go, now. I could use a new pair of shoes to go along with the suit, as well as those fancy French cuffs. Pick something tasteful."
He put a gentle but insistent hand on her back as he ushered her out of the office. "Also, while you're there, treat yourself to another dress for the gala."
Pepper froze in her tracks. "I can't go to galas with you. I only ever attend these things to explain why you're not there."
"Not true, we were both at the Firefighter's benefit."
"I didn't know you were going to show up there." She blushed as she remembered that night and, from the twinkle in his eyes, she knew that this had been his intention– a distraction that kept her from thinking about the letters and wondering why he wanted her to leave.
However, Pepper had not survived seven years as his PA by letting his evasive maneuvers catch her off guard. She dug in her heels and turned around, facing him squarely. "What are you up to?"
"I'm working on an improved propulsion system for the suit. I only just finished upgrading the gauntlets. They're being assembled and painted as we speak," he said, not even missing a beat.
"That's not what I meant, and you know it. Why do you want me out of the house?"
He looked at her all innocence, which was quite a feat considering who he was. "I don't want you out of the house, Pepper. I need you to go out, so you can buy some nice clothes."
If experience had taught her anything, it was that she wouldn't get the truth out of him unless he chose to tell her. He didn't shut her out often, but when he did, there usually was a good reason for it. Pepper took a deep breath, and although she resigned herself to go shopping, she gave him a good, measured glare to let him know that she had every intention of getting to the bottom of this.
"Alright, I'll be back at four-thirty." She darted past him and extracted the business folders from underneath the laptop, but his voice brought her up short.
"Take your time and cancel the conference call, will you? I won't have time for that, today."
"I'm not canceling the board meeting." He opened his mouth to argue, but she nipped his protests in the bud. "You had me reschedule it twice because of your missions, Tony. You're taking the call." Without another word, she stuffed the folders into her purse, slung it over her shoulder, and walked out.
The first time she'd given Tony an order, she hadn't even been in his employ for a full month, and she'd been more than a little shocked when the words had spilled out of her mouth. It had been during one of his working binges in the garage, and he'd been more obstinate than usual. To her relief, instead of firing her, he'd given her that crooked grin for the first time- the one that, she later noticed, belonged exclusively to her and no one else– and had done her bidding.
When Pepper walked up to her car, she noticed a van that was parked in front of the elevator. Happy stood in front of it, and as soon as he saw her, he quickly shut the vehicle's rear doors with an air of studied casualness that immediately roused her suspicion.
"Morning, Happy." She called out and pressed the remote on her car keys that would unlock the Audi.
Tony's bodyguard and driver gave a friendly nod in return. "Good morning, Ms. Potts. I didn't expect to see you here today."
Oh, you didn't, did you? So, whatever Tony is up to, it's big enough that he had to enlist Happy's help.
Curiosity gnawed at her as she replied to Happy's statement with a short explanation, but in her mind, she was making plans on how to best get to the bottom of the mystery that presented itself to her.
Waving goodbye, she got into the car and drove out on the street, her mind racing. While she couldn't be sure, she had gotten the impression that whatever had caught Tony's fancy, it would occupy him well into the afternoon. A glance at her watch told her that it was not quite noon yet. She had a few hours.
Pepper briefly considered rifling through Tony's private computer at his SI office, but just as quickly dismissed the idea. The computer had recently been linked to Jarvis, and she knew the AI would inform Tony immediately of what she was doing. In fact, Jarvis presented her with a number of problems.
Seeing as the car was equipped with a low jack, and her BlackBerry could be traced, she couldn't just park a few yards away and sneak back onto the estate, but had to actually drive to the exclusive mall where she bought most of Tony's formal wear. As the car sped over the city highway, Peppers' fingertips drummed impatiently against the steering wheel.
She'd have to leave her phone behind. The thought alone made her sweat, but it was the only way. For a moment, she shivered when she thought of the back log of missed calls and voice messages that would pile up, not to mention the fact that she would be unavailable in case of an emergency and, God knew, working for Tony, there had been more than enough of those in the past. Although she had to admit that the PR disasters had become infrequent now that the media was more concerned with the exploits of Iron Man than with the unprecedented low profile to which Tony adhered.
She pulled into the parking lot right in front of the Armani store, resolutely unclipped her Bluetooth, threw it onto the passenger seat, pulled her wallet and the business folders out of her purse, and left the rest behind.
Taking care of business first, she entered the store and greeted the manager who welcomed her with an amiable smile. Ten minutes later, she stood at the nearby bus stop, secure in the knowledge that Tony's suit would be ready when she planned to pick it up. Pepper had deliberately decided not to use a taxi, reminding herself that paranoia was indeed a virtue if she wanted to out-fox Tony Stark.
Pepper hadn't actually used a bus in years, and when she made her way down the aisle, she was glad to find the vehicle half empty. Slipping into a seat, she crossed her long legs and deposited her business folders next to her in order to keep the space empty for as long as possible. Once the bus had set off, she leaned her shoulder against the window and picked up the one on top.
Virginia, We've
known each other for a long time, and I'm sure it has not escaped
your notice that there are few things that I truly value, and none of
those can compare to you. Not even the Roadster, and you know that I'
d rather die than let anything happen to my 4-cylinder baby, and
that's exactly how I feel about you. I don't think I'd survive
if anything ever happened to you. I love that twinkle in your
eyes when you laugh, and when you're all fiery and mad, it shines
brighter than the headlights of that sublime piece of engineering in
my garage-
Pepper stifled a laugh as she smoothed out the creased parchment.
It had been a surreal moment when she'd found the letters in his study, almost as if she'd stepped into an alternate reality, because the notion of Tony Stark writing a love letter was something that was almost impossible to grasp.
However, skimming, utterly flabbergasted, over the first few letters on which she'd laid her hands, had convinced her that this wasn't a joke. The realization had sent her reeling, and she'd had to brace herself against his desk, too overwhelmed to remain calm.
Only Mira's appearance in the door had made her regain control, and after dispatching the housekeeper with a request to prepare Tony's clothes for the gala, she had hastily swept up the parchments, retrieved a few empty folders from her office, and had hidden in the kitchen. Her assumption that Jarvis would let Tony know that she'd arrived had been validated when he'd all but skidded into the room a few minutes later, making her flinch, even though she had expected him.
The simple fact was that she didn't know what to do. Even once she'd acknowledged to herself that Tony had long ago become much more than just her boss, she had sworn that she would never let him know how she felt.
Not that there should have been any reason to do so. Pepper had worked for him for seven years; she'd seen the best of him and the worst of him, and she knew that she would never be able to be with him and keep her self-respect and dignity. Back then, giving in to him had meant giving up on herself.
At first, the extent to which he had changed had thrown her off guard, but in the past few months, her weariness had slowly been surmounted by hope, and as she brushed her fingertips over the rough, solid texture of his letters, she knew that she had to make a decision.
Virginia, A
name of stately elegance,
A face so
sweetangelic
of cute impertinence
It's beauty bright with affluence
The bus meandered sedately through the traffic, and it wasn't until it reached the Malibu coast that Pepper could smother her giggles. She had to wipe tears of laughter from her face and take several deep breaths before she felt calm enough to brave the second folder.
Dear
Pepper, You are my anchor. Without you, I'd be adrift Dear Ms. Potts, I'm
sure you'd never expect to receive this type of letter from your
boss - Pepper, I know you're scared, but I swear
to you that I'll do everything in my power not to let you
down-
Pepper didn't stop until she'd read every single one of Tony's letters. She left the bus and sat on a park bench, not a quarter of a mile from the mansion, and by the time she finished the last one, she hardly dared to breathe. There was an odd pressure in her chest, and her hands were shaking as she closed the folders and cradled them protectively against her stomach.
In the past hour she had laughed and cried, caught up in an emotional roller coaster that left her filled to bursting with love and longing for this impudent, insufferable, adorable, and impetuous man that she had know for seven years, and yet, apparently, not known at all. The letters covered a wide range of awkward hilarity, elaborate repetitions, and so many mixed metaphors that even Pepper hadn't been able to untangle the wonderful mess of them. But in between the stilted phrases, the purple prose, and occasional tangents, there was more than enough profound honesty to erase any remnants of doubt that had burdened her.
He loves me. The knowledge- the certainty of it- wrapped around her like a soft, warm blanket, and Pepper wanted to snuggle into it and never let go. She swallowed hard, stood on trembling legs, and headed towards the estate.
When she'd left, she hadn't planned to enter the grounds, and her access card was in her car, but Jarvis opened the front door for her the instant she reached it. His artificial voice sounded concerned as he asked her if she was alright, but Pepper cut him off.
"Where is he?" she asked quietly, the folders still pressed firmly to her chest.
A moment's hesitation preceded the AI's answer. "He is in the master bedroom."
At any other time, Pepper would have taken this information, combined it with Tony's insistence that she leave the house, and concluded that he had another woman upstairs, but now, the thought didn't even cross her mind.
She heard a multitude of banging and clattering sounds as she ascended the stairs, and when she was half way up, a pair of men in overalls passed her by, each carrying a piece of dismantled furniture. They nodded to her, and the last of Pepper's defenses broke right there and then when she realized what was happening.
The landing was cluttered with boxes, buckets, pieces of foam, and wood and metal parts covered in plastic wrap, and when she reached the master bedroom, her legs simply refused to take another step.
The room had always seemed cold to her in its stark, sterile whiteness, the panorama view the only feature by which to recommend it. Now, it was stripped bare from top to bottom, and its walls were painted in cream and beige, the gradient broken by artfully placed streaks of rich, deep blue. Tony stood in the middle of the hard wood floor, his back to her as he critically inspected the work to which he had evidently contributed, judging by the drops and smears of color along his arms.
Pepper gave herself a moment to let her eyes wander from his thick, tussled hair, to the broad shoulders and slim waist below. Her gaze lingered on the firm curve of his ass, and suddenly the ferocity of her longing was replaced with playful impishness.
This particular view of him had inspired many delicious dreams- dreams that had always ended far too soon and suspiciously often in the very doorway in which she now stood. Until now, Pepper had never understood why, and filled with the soft glow that his redecoration had sparked inside her heart, she felt supremely silly for not figuring it out sooner.
"You really are an idiot, sometimes. You know that, right?"
Tony spun around when he heard her voice, his eyes wide with surprise. "Pepper, what-" He stopped and crossed the distance between them with two long steps. "Pepper, have you been crying?"
He gently cupped her face, and as she nodded silently, she could see a mixture of emotions run across his features before his expression settled on protective anger. "Are you hurt? What happened?"
She could only shake her head as she fell into his soft, dark eyes, and, smiling softly, she dropped the folders on the floor, threaded her fingers through his hair and drew him to her. She saw his eyes widen just before her lips met his, but then he pulled her close and slanted his mouth eagerly against hers.
His hands held her flush against him, and as Pepper wrapped her arms around his neck, she let herself sink into his warmth, a sigh spilling from her mouth into his.
It took some time before they untangled themselves, and by then, Pepper was flushed and dizzy and breathless and utterly unwilling to leave his arms. Her eyes found Tony's, and the look of quiet wonder and desire she found there made her bend her head and catch his lips in another kiss, this one deep and slow, though far too brief to still her hunger.
Tony's thumb stroked her cheek, and he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the pulse point on her neck. Feeling the heat of his breath and the wet brush of his tongue on her skin almost made her knees buckle.
"You did read the letters," he growled against her skin. "Why, Ms. Potts, I never would have taken you for such a lying little vixen." She could hear the laughter in his voice, and she smiled secretly as she reveled in the solid strength of his body.
Suddenly, Tony's head snapped back. "Wait a minute, did you just call me an idiot, when you walked into the door?"
Pepper smiled, and even though she knew it was silly, the memory of the letters was enough to make her blink away tears. Yet, in spite of this, she could not help but laugh. "Yes, I did. But I've been an idiot, too. So you're in good company."
Understanding shone in his eyes, and he kissed her again, gently, his beard rubbing deliciously against the edges of her lips. The kiss deepened quickly, becoming more passionate as he slipped his tongue inside her mouth, and Pepper, more than willing to embrace her vixen nature, happily gave as good as she got– and Tony gave all of himself.
When they broke apart, her hands where clutching at the material of his shirt, her breath came in hard, uneven pants, and she was quite satisfied to see that Tony looked just as dazed as she felt. It was as if she simply could not get enough of him. Pressing her lips briefly to the edge of his jaw, she leaned against him and rested her head on his shoulder, content, for the moment, to let the fire in her stomach simmer down and enjoy the comforting rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her hand.
"Do you like the new bedroom?" Tony asked quietly into her hair.
"I love it," she answered and raised her head to look at him. "I love all of it."