Wardrobe Malfunction
He hated going to dinner events. Just a bunch of standing around with people he didn't care about and having to listen to them talk about things he didn't care about.
He hated going to speaking events because at this point in his life he could have said just about anything and the whole audience would break out in applause. He liked a good ego boost as much as the next man – okay probably more than the next man – but after a while it just got tiring to hear his own voice.
But what he hated most of all were red carpet events. Standing around in the hot sun all afternoon in a tuxedo, still squinting in spite of the sunglasses and having to answer the same stupid questions over and over again.
And what was making this evening even worse than most is that he was currently standing in front of a very irritating reporter who was not asking Tony Stark about Tony Stark or even about Ironman. This reporter had enough nerve to be asking about his assistant, even going so far as to suggest that she had been able to keep her job for so long because... well look at her.
He did glance over at her then. Hands still clasped together even though she was on the other side of the carpet talking to another reporter with a fake smile plastered across her face, fooling every one but him.
He was still holding onto her hand because he didn't trust her to not try to bolt back to the limo if he let go. She kept a hold of his because she was afraid she would find herself alone in the theatre because Tony had gotten distracted by some female reporter outside.
He was so relived that he finally got her to come with him – she was the only thing good about the evening – but it sure wasn't easy.
He had tried bribery but that didn't work because they both knew that if she wanted or needed anything she would have just had to ask him, he could never say no to her.
He tried flirting but that just got him a very loud exasperated sigh and quite a biting remark about him having better luck trying his lines on one of the many bimbos he had on speed dial. Little did she know there was only one person on his speed dial and she was definitely not a bimbo.
Her tried ordering her, as her boss and all, but that just got him a lecture as to how busy she really was and that nowhere in her job description was going out with him either mentioned or even implied. She even said that next time he tried to use that argument with him she would immediately go home, having suddenly come down with a nasty virus.
Finally he sincerely asked her to go with him because she was his friend and he didn't want to have to go alone. Even though that got him another loud sigh it worked!
The rest of the day she had to put up with getting a dress and some shoes together at the last possible moment and getting her hair to cooperate with her. All the while her laptop sat on the coffee table, e-mails filling up her in-box.
He knew she didn't want to be here even more than he did and he appreciated that she came anyway. He finally decided, without answering the reporter who was asking him questions that at any other time or place would have got him punched in the face that they had both had enough with the reporters and cameras and it was time to head inside.
He gently pulled on her hand and noticed out of the corner of his eye that as soon as he did so her other hand flew up to the top side of her dress.
Even before she could blink he had managed to gracefully put himself in front of her in a very light hug, giving her enough room in-between them to do what she needed to do.
She looked up at him with tears forming in her eyes and he managed a quick, silent "I'm sorry", not wanting to make a scene. To his credit he didn't even look down as she was quickly trying to get the side of her black, strapless gown back to where it was supposed to be.
She finally looked back up at him, letting her hands go back down to her sides.
She still had tears in her eyes that if they had been in private would have already fallen.
"Can we just go home now?" she asked in a quite desperate plea as she leaned her forehead against his chin.
"No one saw anything, you were too quick. I promise," he said trying to reassure her, putting emphasis on the first part of the sentence to let her know that he personally didn't see anything for fear of her never looking him directly in the eyes again.
She got what he was trying to say but she was still horrified. "You're not the only one here Tony. That's going to be all over You Tube before we even get home."
He leaned down to her ear so as to avoid the nosey reporters, "if anyone is going to catch a wardrobe malfunction it's me. I already saw three this evening and the other two were nowhere as quick as you. No one saw anything, as unfortunate as that is for me," he added on at the end hoping to lighten the mood.
She pulled back and looked at him as he was raising one of his eyebrows in a suggestive manner with that famous Tony Stark smirk on his face.
"Let's just go inside. I need a drink," she said, purposefully ignoring his remarks.
He let her out of the hug to wrap one arm lightly around her waist. "And I promise not to pull on your arms for the rest of the evening…," he said into her ear as they passed through the theatre doors and found their seats, "or at least until we get back to the house."