Idk. I'm inspired. I'm always inspired by the most random things. Like Tony Stark's perfect hair. Don't own it, blah blah blah really wish I did blah blah blah
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can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like
shooting stars?
I could really use a wish right now…
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I feel like the lowest scum.
Pepper Pots wavered almost unnecessarily in the third aisle of a local pharmacy down in the less accommodating parts of Los Angeles. Stark Industries was twenty blocks away, about a three-minute trip on the highway—depending on the speed of traffic—and two and a half hours by walking at the snail-like pace she had adopted in her five inch pumps which did nothing on the rocky, uneven sidewalk.
Suffice to say, she walked.
Not that Walgreens was any sort of exotic destination. In fact, there was one not even two blocks down from the sprawling tinted-window skyscraper with Tony's surname the crowned jewel tapered onto the top of it. She probably should have taken the lesser hike, but simply couldn't bring her flaming face to enter through the sliding doors she was so acutely intimate with. Tony had asked her to go there for a variety of reasons, usual mundane, useless things like whatever candy he was craving or just for his amusement, but she had gone enough times to realize that a handful of Stark employees—many with mouths larger than their heads—loitered there in their lunch hours.
And she would not want to be caught with them.
Good god, if Melissa Write from accounting saw her…
Her face burnt at the thought.
Look how far you've gone, Pepper. She sarcastically primed herself, cynically reprimanding everything she'd ever done. You're killing Tony Stark's baby.
She tried not to think of it as she grabbed the most expensive and "One-hundred percent guaranteed" Plan B, as she walked hurriedly to the checking counter, trying to keep her pace as brisk as possible.
Pepper tried to cross-examine her life to how it had sunk so far.
It was a quick combination of things she supposed, a correlation of unrelated events, or what she thought were unrelated events, that were tied to ridiculously to each other that happened to have stumbled upon the same evening.
It was Rhodey's birthday yesterday.
That wasn't anything new, it happened on the same day everyday.
However, Tony, being Rhodey's self-proclaimed best friend as well as the man-slut partying fool he was, had gone against the Colonel's pleads for a small get together of close friends for a end of summer cook-out turned celebrity hot spot out of his Malibu mansion. This combined along with;
a) Happy's uncanny technique to connive Pepper into anything, including ludicrous drinking games,
b) the incessant ability Tony has to stay trashed for two weeks straight,
c) those delectable Sour Apple Martinis that Pepper may/may not have indulged in earlier that evening when she saw the bartender concocting one of those devilish little things,
d) her outlandish schedule that usually flipped backwards in an attempt to fit Tony's schedule gave her little time for herself, and for that matter, any time to head over to the doctors and get another prescription for birth control,
And the fact that Tony Stark was sex on legs did nothing but aid the subsequent chain of events that carried on later that night.
Pepper had woken up that morning, regrettably, the same way she assumed many of Tony's night guests usually did. Jarvis' impressive opening speech, the pulling of the curtains, reading the time and temperature in that low, drowning voice of his, the perfect surf side cliff and sparkling infinity pool just below the balcony, and there's the buxom sun-tanned blonde who gets up with a mysterious gasp, sheets trailing down her smooth curves as she walks in wonder to the stainless windows and presses manicured hands to their warmed surface. The heroine then turns around to the empty, but not as extravagant as she thought bed, hunts around for clothes, and dons one of Tony's many button downs as she peruses through the wonder-like house of machine machinations and waterfalls. This is usually Pepper's cue to take out the garbage.
Except today, Pepper was the garbage.
She could have hurled if it wasn't for the fact that Tony was still next to her, groaning at the hangover he would soon be facing.
Aside from the deep, revolting horror sinking into her stomach and the quiet drone of that familiar mechanic voice, there wasn't much else she could do aside from gather her clothes off of the floor.
"The surf is mediocre, may I suggest a walk down towards the beach? The water temperature has reached a slight rise over seventy-one degrees—
"Jarvis." She hissed. "Mute."
The house AI became silent as she stalked around the room, snapping her fingers for the windows to reverse themselves to darkness.
She stood there, in Tony's white undershirt that still smelled like his shampoo, squinting into the dim light for the sparkle of her heels, probably looking particularly stupid. This wasn't what she had imagined. Sure, it was rather hard not to fantasize about her multi-billionaire, orgasmic boss, but he was Tony, and Tony was someone she knew, not just a face on a magazine. He was annoying, he had terrible taste in music, he couldn't keep himself alive without her to baby him, and his list of defects probably ascended all the data space in his house.
The problem was, he was also exceedingly handsome, a charming, witty and charismatic born leader as well as a genius engineer who, sadly, had a way with women. Including her. (This was not a fact she was entirely proud of) And if she really was to say it aloud, his astounding list of defects probably matched his many perfections hand to hand, and, in reality, he probably wasn't as horrid a human being as she gave him credit for. He did have some sort of moral astoundment, as he did have a relevation on Stark Industries' questionable moralities, and he did create a high-tech metal suit of armor to not only save himself but to save his entire country. Certainly that counted for something?
Pepper watched the boneless heap strewn in taupe colored sheets, a messy sprawl of muscles and lean tendons as the owner of the body made loud snores that could shake the entire house. The sign that he was even on his back probably meant that he was waking up soon.
She dropped to her knees and narrowed her bright eyes into the darkness below Tony's bed. Ah, there was one of them.
Retrieving the Steve Madden stiletto, she grabbed the pearl necklace off of his bedside table and silently tiptoed to the other side of his bed.
He was asleep, but judging from his incoherent mumbling from underneath the pillow he had pulled over his head, was probably pulling himself out of it. Or rather, the hangover that was two weeks in coming was dragging him from the recesses of alcohol induced sleep and was rearing its ugly head with vengeance. She may have held some sympathy for him on another occasion, but she was more concerned with the fact that she wanted to be out of here by the time those bleary, blood-shot eyes found her face instead of the usual faceless, nameless Victoria Secret model.
She was three steps out the door when she heard his sleepy, almost indecipherable voice. "…Pepper?"
The redhead stilled, her reflection caught in the glass of the hallways, a thin posture, swathed taupe fabric and the bright tangerine of her hair.
But she continued on, pace renewed.
"Happy?" She called, as she balanced her shoes in one hand along with her dress, finding her car parked still on the rim of the circle in front of Tony's mansion. Her hair, once a perfection of poppy-colored curls poised on the top of her head was now a mess of hairspray jumbled into a sloppy bun above her left ear, ends escaping down the nape of her neck and one shoulder pressing her Blackberry to her ear.
"Yes, I'm leaving right now." She stopped her brisk, uneven pace as she dropped her dress and shoes into the passenger seat of her Audi (or rather, Tony's, as he wouldn't let her drive her own car as it was an "unsafe piece of shit") "No… I uh, stayed over to clean up the mess."
"You know how Tony is." She began again, determined to make her alibi more like an actual excuse. "He passed out once everyone left and his house was an utter disaster."
Pepper started her car up, the pedal feeling cold against her bare feet, Tony's shirt a surprisingly comfortable makeshift dress. "I—well now I suppose that really isn't in the job description, is it?" She smiled uncomfortably as she pulled out of the circle. It felt terrible to lie to Happy.
"Yes, there's a board meeting at two, make sure to be at Mister Stark's house an hour earlier, because I'm certain we'll have to round up his ass to get out of—
Pepper's eyes widened; her foot floored the brakes.
The A4 came to a screeching, killed-the-brakes halt as her face lost all its color and she almost dropped her phone.
"Pepper? Are you alright?" Happy's voice came from somewhere near her thigh, where her phone had nearly crashed into the aggravating corner between the cup holders and her seat.
She picked it up shakily. "Yes…I'm fine."
Her clock read eleven forty-eight. But that wasn't the worst of it.
"Actually, Happy, could you take care of Mister Stark yourself? I just realized I have some…pressing matters to attend to."
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its starting at one point and kind of, recapping I guess. Sorry if its confusing! Tell me what you think :D everyone always has cute little stories about the little Starks running around, but I've yet to see one about their creation. Its always interesting to see the you know, dramatic part I guess (;
Anyway, tell me what you think!