Chapter 1: The Birthday Party
The muzak in the elevator was Tchaikovsky. When it was just Tony riding, he usually had JARVIS blare something AC/DC, but once Pepper had expressed her dislike for heavy metal, he'd reprogrammed the software to put on something classical whenever it registered her biological scan. Tony eyed Pepper's small black suitcase.
"How'd you manage to fit everything into one small bag?"
"It's only a three-day trip," she said.
"Right, but in my experience, women usually need to rent a cargo plane if they're going anywhere for longer than a night."
She raised an eyebrow.
"Well, I'm not like most women."
"Damn right, you're not," he said quickly. "You're much better."
"Mmm. Better, how?"
"In—in good ways. That, um, that 'cargo plane' thing wasn't a good thing to say, was it?"
"You think?"
"I was just saying, you know, women have a lot more stuff to pack than guys do. Like makeup. Uhhh, hair dryers. Stuff like that. Let's see, what else—?"
"I'd quit while you're ahead," she advised him. Tony ran a hand through his hair.
"You know what, just forget it. Forget I said anything. Let's talk about something else. Like the party! Yeah, so, did you place that order for the food yet? 'Cause I'm thinking—"
"I'm your girlfriend, not your party planner," she said dryly.
"—'cause I'm thinking maybe we should just skip dinner and go straight for the happy hour; am I right?"
"Tony—" she said. The elevator slowed to a stop, the doors opening with a gentle ding.
"I'm still making up the guest list, but if you need a ballpark, I'm thinking somewhere in the realm of six hundred, maybe seven; we'll probably need more hors' d'oeuvres—"
"Tony, wait. We need to—"
"—that's okay, though; you know, I can never resist those little tiny crab cakes; it'd probably be better to have more of them anyway. Ooh, d'you reckon we'll have enough cake? Or should we just assume that people are gonna be so drunk that they're not even gonna notice if they don't get a piece?—"
"Tony, wait. We need to talk about this." She sped up and planted herself in front of him. "Would you listen to me, just shut up for half a minute and listen to me!"
"—'cause those kinds of parties are always the best; alright, alright, what is it?"
"I don't think this is a good idea."
"What, you think we should have enough cake for everybody? Eh, you're probably right; it's a pretty risky business; I mean, if you're invited to a birthday party, you kind of expect there to be cake—"
"No, that's not it; stop; that's not what I'm saying; I'm saying that we should postpone the party," she said, talking over him. He stopped.
"What?"
"Just until this whole business blows over."
"You can't possibly talking about that whole curse thing?" he said. "I didn't think you were superstitious."
"You don't know what you're up against here. Maybe it's all just a hoax, but what if it's not?"
"It's totally a hoax. What, do you think someone's going to slip a voodoo doll under my pillow or something?"
"Well, I doubt that when Fury said 'stay safe,' he meant 'throw a birthday party with six hundred people the following weekend.'"
"Seven hundred," he corrected, as they exited the Tower. "Oh, come on. Since when have I ever listened to what Fury says?"
"About as often as you've listened to what I say," she said. At the curb, a car was already waiting for her. The driver came up to take her suitcase, but she kept her gaze focused on Tony.
"Nothing, literally nothing is going to happen, okay?" he said. "I don't believe in curses."
"And just because you don't believe in something, that makes it not true."
"Aren't you gonna miss your flight or something?" He gestured to the car.
"Just postpone the party; you don't have to cancel it—"
"—Also, if you could get in touch with the caterer; tell him we're gonna need more cake, enough for two hundred more, but if he can still shape the thing to look like my suit, that'd be great—"
"—Tony, listen to yourself; you're talking fast again; when you try to talk over me I know it means you're scared, so please, show some wisdom for once in your life—!"
"—g*d, wouldn't it be cool if the cake could actually shoot lasers out of its hands? Maybe I should—"
"—because if you don't postpone it, then I will; I swear to g*d—!" She took out her phone.
"—oh, come on; don't do that; everything's gonna be okay; it'll be fine, I promise—!"
She hit a button. Tony was speechless for a second.
"Did…did you really just…"
"What do you think?" she said icily.
"How did you even get the guest list?"
"You forget, I'm your party planner."
"Oh, come on." He blew out a breath. "Dammit. Why? Why would you do that!?"
"I'm trying to keep you safe."
"But nothing is going to happen!"
"You don't know that!" Pepper took a deep, calming breath. "The guests have all got a memo saying that the party is rescheduled three weeks from tomorrow."
"What if I send out a memo saying the party's on?" he said.
"Then I'll send another one," she said.
"You'll send a memo after my memo cancelling your memo?"
"As many as it takes." Her green eyes bored into him like lasers. "This party will not happen. Not this weekend. I don't care what you do, or what I have to do."
There was a long pause. Tony stared at her.
"You're worried about me."
"Oh, no, of course not. I'm just worried about keeping my job."
"I thought your job was being my party canceller, I mean, planner."
"No, my job is to save you from your own stupidity," she said. "Tony, if something were to happen to you, I don't know what I'd—"
"You'd be the next CEO of Stark Industries," he said.
"I—no, that's not what I meant—"
"Yeah, I know." He lowered his voice. "Look, it'll be okay. A few weeks here or there won't matter, I guess."
"Swear to me you won't change anything," she pressed.
"I won't. I promise."
"You'd better not."
There was another pause.
"Nothing's going to happen to me, you know that?" he said.
She closed her eyes briefly. He reached out to brush back a lock of her hair, but the driver suddenly cleared his throat.
"Oh, right. You have to go." He stepped back. Pepper climbed inside, the driver shutting the door. He watched the car disappear around the building, before he went back to his lab. He snapped at Dum-E and flopped onto his stool, barely listening as JARVIS tried to update him on the progress on the Mark-Whatever suit.
Dammit. Why did he always have to be such an a**hole?
