Setting: 2008 Movieverse
Pairing: Tony/Pepper
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Yeah, they're mine. NOT!
Synopsis: Tony Stark never has a simple problem.
As with most problems in Tony Stark's life it started off with a woman.
Three women, to be precise.
The first, a model of rather dubious fame, happened to be occupying the passenger seat in Stark's sports car as they drove rather erratically down the street one evening.
The second, a self-confessed soccer mom, happened to be driving the minivan that was proceeding at the legal speed limit along the same street.
The third was a college student who happened to walking along the sidewalk with her boyfriend and witnessed not only the accident, but captured the image on her cell phone camera of Tony Stark leaping from his car, pants unbuttoned and falling around his ankles.
Which then made the rounds of not only every Internet blogging site but more than a few major networks and entertainment television shows. Which prompted a special meeting of the Board of Directors of Stark Industries and a long conference call with Pepper Potts, who promised to find a driver for Tony Stark within twenty-four hours. Which resulted in a call to a slew of private drivers and companies, all of whom declined the assignment no matter how high the pay or the benefits Pepper could offer.
All but one.
Harold "Happy" Hogan hadn't ever planned to be a driver, much less Tony Stark's driver. He was quite happy being a retired boxer and running his own little gym. But, again, the interference of a woman would change his destiny as much as it would Tony Stark's. Fortunately it happened to be the same woman.
"Pepper Potts." The tall redhead extended her hand, watching it be swallowed up in the ex-boxer's mammoth grip.
"Pleased to meetcha." He released her hand, gesturing towards the small office at the back of the gym. "We can talk back there."
Pepper nodded, maneuvering her way past the punching bags and the small ring that held a pair of pugilists who seemed more determined to get on "Dancing With The Stars" than actually hitting each other.
Happy stopped by the ropes. "If you two don't start throwing punches I'll come in there and show you how it's done!"
The two young men immediately began pummeling each other with a ferocity that reminded Pepper of her last press conference. She followed him back into the office, sitting down in the single wooden chair.
"I'm not sure what you're here for." The dark-haired man spread his hands as he settled into his own chair. "I ain't no pretty boy driver."
"That's not what I need." She frowned, searching for the right words. "I need someone… special to help out Mr. Stark with his needs."
Happy grinned. "I heard a lot about his 'needs', Ms Potts. And I know he don't need my help with that."
She smiled back. "We need a driver. A good driver. A driver who's not going to be… intimidated by Mr. Stark."
"Intimidated?" A confused look appeared on his face. "I don't get it."
"Tony Stark can be rather… intimidating when he wants to be." Pepper tilted her head to one side. "He's a certified genius but that doesn't mean he has a lot of common sense or knows when to stop. At anything."
"Ah." The thick-necked man nodded. "He likes the wrong ladies."
"At times." She ran her hands over her knees, smoothing out invisible wrinkles in the black skirt. "And he doesn't know when to concede an argument."
A sly grin appeared on his face. "He been punched out, then?"
"Technically, not out." They exchanged knowing glances. "And in view of his recent… incident the Board of Directors wants him to be a bit more restrained both in his choice of women and his drinking habits."
Happy sat back in the creaking wooden chair. "I ain't gonna stop him from drinking, Ms Potts. As long as he ain't driving."
"Which is my point." She nodded. "You're not part of the establishment; you're not going to be intimidated by paparazzi and snarling reporters. And you're not interested in playing games to get a book out of it or betray a confidence. You're big enough to help him out of a situation if he gets into one and keep him from getting into one if need be." A smile touched her lips. "You also have permission to manhandle him if necessary."
His eyes widened. "I do?"
Pepper nodded. "Mr. Stark is a valuable asset to Stark Industries and, as such, should be protected. Even from himself."
"Ah." Happy crossed his arms. "And if he orders me otherwise?"
"Technically you don't work for Stark Industries or Tony Stark." The redhead grinned, unleashing a smile that sent his pulse racing. "You work for me. As a private contractor employed by the Board of Directors with me as their representative."
"Oh." He blinked wildly for a few minutes before responding, his thick meaty fingers drumming on the scratched wood surface of the desk. "This is a helluva job."
"You bet." Reaching for a scrap of paper on the desk Pepper scribbled a series of numbers. "This is your starting pay. Subject to bonuses and the usual increases as time goes on; full benefits as if you were an employee of SI." She slid the paper over and got to her feet. "The offer is on the table for twenty-four hours, as of this minute. Call me if you're interested." Her eyes narrowed. "It goes without understanding that this is confidential. If I hear any of this on the news or on someone's blog you'll have to fight to find someone to rent you a bathroom."
"Understood." Happy didn't move. "Thanks."
"Thank you." She paused at the doorway. "I hope you consider taking the job. I think Tony would like you." Then she was gone.
The heavy-set man stared at the card for ten minutes before picking up the phone and dialing the number. Then he walked out into the gym and proceeded to spar with five opponents who all ended up on the mat; gasping for breath before he left the assistant manager in charge and went home.
The next day he picked up the Rolls Royce from the motor pool at Stark Industries and drove it to the house in Malibu; Jarvis almost eagerly allowing him through the gates and up to the front door where two figures stood, waiting for him.
"Who the hell is this?" Tony Stark stood by the car, his hands on his hips and staring over his sunglasses as Happy got out and opened the rear door for the pair. "A goddamn babysitter?"
Hogan shrugged, stretching the dark jacket to its limits across his broad shoulders. "I'm your private driver, sir."
Stark snorted. "I don't think so." He spun around to see Pepper walking towards him, tapping frantically on her Blackberry. "What's this?"
"Happy is going to drive both of us to work. And then take you wherever you want to go. Including back here, if you wish." The tall redhead nodded politely as Hogan opened the back door. "You're not driving yourself for the next two weeks. We'll see how things go after that."
"'Happy'? What, you got the other six dwarves on standby? I don't think so." The inventor repeated. "I can drive myself, thank you very much."
"I'm sure you could. Except that Jarvis has disabled each and every one of your cars until you comply with this restriction." Pepper slid in across the leather seat, her full attention on the minute screen.
"Jarvis? What?" He glared at Happy for a second then got into the car. "Explain to me how you got Jarvis to go along with this. And what's going to stop me from canceling it when I get back here?"
"Jarvis, as per your programming, is logical in all things. Including being programmed with Asimov's three laws, one of which means that he won't allow you to come to harm due to his actions or inactions." She didn't move as the limo began to move. "Keeping you alive would fall under those instructions."
Stark huffed, sitting back and crossing his arms. His eyes met Happy's in the rearview mirror. "Do you like to drink?"
"At times, sir."
"Don't call me 'sir'; I'm not in the military." The edges of his mouth twitched. "Like girls?"
"I like women." He grinned as he pulled the car into traffic, smoothly navigating the morning rush.
"Redheads?" Tony looked sideways, noting Pepper's stoic expression.
"Never had that much of a choice, sir." Hogan chuckled.
"Well, we'll see what we can do about that." Sitting back Stark glanced over at his assistant. "Let me guess – I can't fire him."
"Not unless you fire me."
"Damn." Tony looked out the window and then reached for the small bar in front of him. "Might as well put him to work, then."
Pepper scowled as he quickly poured an obscene amount of Scotch into the glass. "You have a meeting at eleven with Obadiah."
"Then I'll need this even more." He drained the glass, smacking his lips soundly as he refilled the drink. "Happy, this could be the beginning of a beautiful relationship."
"Yes, sir."
Within the first two days Happy carried Tony Stark home twice, having interesting discussions with Jarvis over the boxing merits of Muhammad Ali vs. Joe Louis and watching reruns of his favorite fights while his boss slept it off in his own bedroom; drooling into the expensive sheets.
Within two weeks Happy had brawled with three ex-boyfriends "defending" their girlfriend's honor; two paparazzi who got too close to the car and deflected the blows of four women who didn't quite understand what Tony Stark offered in the way of a short-term relationship.
Within the first two months he had become proficient in dealing with the "morning delivery", as Pepper discreetly called it, driving the sleepy and usually disgruntled women anywhere they wanted to go while Tony hid down in the workshop.
And within the first two years he had so many bonuses and raises that his gym not only grew but thrived, launching two franchises and a series of after-school programs for troubled youth who wanted to take it into the boxing ring instead of out on the streets. All in all he never regretted taking Pepper Potts's up on her offer.
Until the day when he raced Tony Stark to the private jet, waiting patiently on the tarmac and carried his clothing onto the plane past an irate Colonel Rhodes. And he drove back to the house, took Pepper Potts home (after discreetly tucking a birthday card into her briefcase; he kept track of such things) and went to the gym for his daily workout. It was well after midnight when he arrived back at his small apartment; after noon when he woke to a frantic phone call from the woman who had changed his life.
Because it had all changed again.
The next three days flew by in a burst of racing to pick up Pepper, take her to Stark Industries; the airport; the residence where Jarvis would patiently debate the merits of boxing versus mixed-martial arts fighting while he waited in the car and watched the frantic woman work the phones.
The next three weeks he carried the sleeping body of Stark's personal assistant from the back of the car where she had been tireless working on new connections, new leads, either into her apartment or into Stark's home – tucking her into bed and making sure to lock the door on his way out and leave her cell phone where she could reach it.
The next three months he spent more time working the punching bag and teaching kids the difference between a block and a punch; one ear always open for the tell-tale ring of his phone calling for his help. The paychecks had stayed constant despite objections from the Board of Directors who saw no use in keeping a personal driver for a man about to be pronounced dead. But Pepper Potts had pointed out that Happy Hogan worked for her and she needed him and if they wanted to fire him then they'd have to fire her as well.
He's in the gym when the cell phone blared from his hip; breaking his routine on the speed bag. The battered leather snaps back, almost catching him in the face as he grabs for the too-small rectangle, fumbling with thick fingers to get it open.
"Hogan."
"Mr. Hogan, I have a request from Ms Potts. Please hold." Jarvis's voice is quicker than usual as if the computer program was actually excited about something. "There is news about Mr. Stark."
"What?" The boxing gloves bounce off the floor as he runs for the locker room. "Put her on the phone!"
"He's alive, Happy!" His favorite redhead is hiccupping, crying and laughing at the same time. "He's alive!"
"What do you want me to do?" The locker flies open to reveal his chauffeur's uniform, still neatly pressed and in the dry cleaning wrap.
"I need to be at the airport in a few hours." She hiccups again. "The Air Force is flying him back."
"I'll pick you up at the house, then." He feels as if he's gone five rounds with Ali, Fraser and Tyson. Sitting down on the bench he rubs his chin, a goofy smile on his face.
On the way to the Malibu house he stops and restocks the private bar in the car; making sure that there's plenty of ice. And tosses two boxes of tissue in the front seat.
Three hours later he's driving to the airport, Pepper Potts in the back of the car. She hasn't stopped crying and he's almost run out of tissues to hand back. A few paparazzi tried to follow them but he lost them easily, ducking into side streets and racing a few lights. He's not going to let Tony Stark arrive to a media circus if he can help it.
The C-130 rolls to a stop on the tarmac; the ambulance crew leaping forward to roll a stretcher out of the wagon and towards the plane. He stands by the car and watches the redhead step forward with a stoic smile on her face as if the last three months hasn't happened.
Tony Stark strides down the steel plates as if he had just been gone for a day on another one of his jaunts; a bit of a swagger to his step. But Happy isn't fooled – he's seen too many body blows to not recognize the slump in his boss's shoulders and the stiffness in his walk. There's something wrong, more than just a few months in some terrorist's mountain camp. Then they're on the move and headed for the first fast-food hamburger joint in sight; Pepper bashing away at her minute keyboard with a passion he hasn't seen in months and Stark staring out the window as if he's still not sure he's actually home.
"Happy?"
"Yes sir?" He looks in the rear view mirror to see the smiling face of his boss.
"You still like redheads?" Tony glances to his side; the woman ignoring him as she sets up the news conference. Reaching forward he grabs a bottle of water, snapping the plastic cap off and downing half of it in a single gulp.
"Yes, sir!" The ex-boxer grins.
"Me, too." Stark settles back in his seat with a look that Happy remembers from his own professional days. Tony Stark is getting ready for a fight.
And he doesn't look like a man who's going to lose.