Thank you so much for your reviews for Chapters 1 and 2! Really makes it all feel worthwhile:) Enjoy chapter 3!
In walks Marcia Matheson, wearing a similar skirt suit to the one she'd worn when she did the first interview. She is pretty, plump, about ten years older than Pepper, and teetering on a pair of kitten heels. Her round face is glowing like an animal that's stumbled upon its prey already in a trap.
"Welcome to our home," Tony says warmly, and shakes her hand.
"You two seem a lot more laid-back than you were the last time I made a visit," Matheson observes in what Pepper immediately identifies as a self-righteous tone. Ugh, why hadn't she had the sense to sit in on the interview the first time? What on earth had he said to make this woman believe that they were—that they actually…
"And Ms. Potts, hello," Matheson said, breaking Pepper's train of thought. As they shook hands she added, "Casual Friday, is it?"
"She just came back from a run," Tony jumps in, planting a firm hand on Pepper's far shoulder. "She needs at least five miles a day or she gets stir crazy, this one."
Matheson's eyebrows rise. "I'm training for a half marathon now myself. You didn't seem dressed for running the last time we spoke."
"I was aware we were having company the last time we spoke," Pepper says icily. "I didn't even have time to shower before I heard you were on your way."
Tony shrugs. "And I told her that's the way I like her."
Out of pure shock (and—she'll admit to herself—a shiver of delight), Pepper hears herself say to Matheson, "Can I get you something to drink?"
"Glass of water would be great," the reporter answers as Tony leads her left into the living room. As they fade out of earshot, Pepper hears her ask, "Now, this painting wasn't here when I visited last time, was it?"
Pepper scoffs and rolls her eyes, then pads into the kitchen. As she dispenses a glass of ice water from the fridge, she does something she's never done before. She looks up at the ceiling with a note of desperation in her voice and whispers, "Are you there, Jarvis? It's me, Pepper."
"At your service, Ms. Potts," the AI answers, and Pepper knows that if bots could whisper, that's what she'd describe the automated butler as doing now.
"There's got to be something you can do to stop this," she whispers. "Turn on the in-house sprinklers, shut off the power, something."
"Regrettably, Ms. Potts, Mr. Stark has created failsafe override codes that only he has access to. Barring all events other than certain death, I'm afraid there's nothing I can do."
"Some help you are," Pepper mutters, and leaves the kitchen in a huff.
When she joins Tony and Matheson in the living room, they've just finished laughing about something she knows she shouldn't care about, but it still makes her feel terribly left out to come in on the end of a joke. She also doesn't like the way Matheson has familiarly seated herself in what happens to be Pepper's favorite armchair.
"Here's your water, I hope you wanted ice."
"Oh, I didn't, but thank you dear."
"Aren't you going to have something, honey?" Tony asks Pepper.
It takes her a moment to realize he's talking to her. "Oh… no. Why?"
"Well you're always so worried about staying hydrated after you exercise, especially after what happened to your mom last year."
He's really going all-in with this ridiculous charade, isn't he? His eyes are dancing with delight at making her squirm. Pepper bites her tongue so hard she swears she tastes blood, and then manages to get out, "I'm fine, I had a Gatorade when you weren't looking."
"That's all you were doing, I hope," Tony says roguishly. Pepper resists the very strong urge to slap him
"Well, Ms. Matheson, it seems like your article's got a lot of people talking," Tony says, reclining as Pepper sinks into the couch beside him. He's gotten so familiar with her in the two minutes that have already elapsed, but for some reason Pepper doesn't mind the physical intimacy as much as she minds the emotional. In fact, it's nice to feel his body heat against hers, his heartbeat thrumming alongside her own, reminding her that they are in this together.
Tony stretches his arm out behind her like a teenage boy at the movie theatre. He is warm against her shoulders and she feels him playing with a strand of her hair. It isn't the first time he's done it. Once, a year or so ago, he'd absentmindedly fiddled with her ponytail on the jet. They were both exhausted after a week of appearances in Europe, and she'd stiffened and brushed him away, but she's never forgotten what it felt like to be in Tony Stark's hands, to be one of the things he so dexterously touched.
Without realizing it at first, she loosens up and leans into his touch on the couch, her right shoulder resting in his left armpit. It's freeing, to not have to worry about what someone else might think, to just let go and act like he's just a guy and she's just a girl and they're just sitting together on a couch.
A gentle tug on her hair pulls her out of her thoughts. She looks at Tony, slightly confused.
"I said, it was your idea, wasn't it, honey?" Tony prompts.
"Yes," Pepper says, blinking a couple of times. "If it's going to be discovered, why not just put it all out there in the open?"
The look on Matheson's face is the one Tony gets when he's finally gotten a machine to work the way he wants it to. Beside her a recorder blinks with a mocking red light; she takes notes on a yellow legal pad. Pepper's stomach drops as she realizes that she's answered what apparently was not the correct question. Suddenly she feels like she's ten years old and has just been caught daydreaming at school, a disapproving nun looking down at her and the doodles in her composition notebook.
"I was talking about the art collection, Pep," Tony chuckles, a full-out grin threatening to break through.
"Oh!" Pepper feels herself turn crimson.
"Although, believe me, your enthusiasm to finally stand in the sun about our relationship is… heartwarming."
She narrows her eyes at her boss and clears her throat. "Yes, Tony's right, Ms. Matheson—"
"Please call me Marcia," the reporter says with a toothy smile.
"Ms. Matheson," Pepper repeats pointedly—she's never been a fan of familiarity, "Tony's house was such a bachelor pad before I started working for him. One or two big Rothko-esque behemoths on the walls. No character. He mentioned one morning that he wanted to make a good impression at a party he was hosting later that month, so I did some research and got some samples sent over. Needless to say the project sort of became my baby and now, well…" Pepper finishes by gesturing to the room around them grandly. It is one of her biggest accomplishments, and one she doesn't mind bragging about. She's worked damn hard on this collection, and it's as much her own as it is her employer's.
"You seem quite passionate about art, Ms. Potts," Matheson observes, not missing a chance to return the formality jab. Pepper likes it; it lets her know that she is still in control.
"Working for Tony makes me passionate," Pepper says, and the platitude comes a little too easily. She feels Tony stiffen with excitement beside her, his ears perking up now that she is finally playing along. What does she have to lose, really?
"That's why she's so great," Tony picks up. "We inspire each other. At work and… in other areas of life."
"How did it happen?" Matheson queries. "How did the inspiration begin? How did that spark turn into something more?"
"It was here," Pepper says, the sound of her own voice surprising even herself. "Downstairs in Tony's workshop."
"Do you spend a lot of time there, Mr. Stark?" Matheson asks Tony.
"Yes," Pepper answers emphatically, in what she imagines is a tone of voice that she would take if she was actually in a relationship with Tony and disapproved of how much time he spent tinkering. It scares her that it is not so different from a tone of voice she hears herself use every day.
"My work is important to me," Tony answers with a smirk, and an approving nod in Pepper's direction that she can just see dancing in his eyes. "And so is she."
Then his hand is on her knee, only thin lycra separating the skin of his hand from the skin of her thigh. She is hot and cold and it emboldens her. If he can mess with her, why can't she give it right back to him?
"I came downstairs and lit into him because he'd missed a budget meeting that morning, and suddenly he was kissing me." Pepper smiles, picturing the imaginary scene that's haunted her dreams once or twice and always makes her wake up trembling in a cold sweat. "I remember there was motor oil on his hands. He got some in my hair."
"It was the first time, but certainly not the last." Tony flashes a cheeky grin and Matheson erupts into giggles. "And I think it was all the more satisfying because we both knew it had been a long time coming."
Matheson is practically drooling. "Were there other… encounters before that night in the workshop?"
Tony shoots Pepper a sidelong glance, checking in, and suddenly she feels exposed, naked, like a raw nerve. Because if he does what she thinks he's about to do, then this isn't pretending anymore. This is real. He is about to tell a real, true story about their lives that only the two of them know and it feels like she is giving a little piece of herself away. But she's agreed to this now and Tony seems so sure that it will work, that they just have to ride the wave of being pop culture's flavor of the week, and it will all be over soon. So she nods.
"We… almost kissed. One night, several months ago—before we were together, I mean," Tony says, catching himself in time. He squeezes Pepper's knee, his hand still resting there.
"I had had a little to drink," Pepper admits. It's not entirely a lie. Historically, she's always taken two shots before any gala event at SI; it calms her nerves and gives her just enough reserve to schmooze with some of the people Tony invites to those things.
Tony turns to her. "Really? You never told me that before. And here I thought you were so big-eyed and flustered because of our magnetic attraction."
Pepper shrugs, slightly resentful at being referred to as "big-eyed", even though she knows it's true. Back when she modeled, the photographers had always told her to tone down her "crazy eyes."
"It was at an event," Tony continues, "an event for the company and she was there, looking… looking like… an angel, and I couldn't think of a better move than asking her to dance."
"I, of course, was having none of it," Pepper interjects. She can feel her ears burning red thinking about that night, though. About the way his eyes looked into her and saw her, really saw her for the first time. About how terrified it had made her. About how she went weak in the knees every time she remembered the way his eyes had devoured her hungrily.
"She was wearing this… incredible dress," Tony says, his eyes glazed over now. "She looks great in everything, of course, but this one was special. It somehow made her look like a woman and a girl at the same time. It was backless. And her hair was down, she never wears her hair down."
"It gets in my eyes…" Pepper hears herself mutter, but she is focused solely on Tony and the reverent way in which he finishes their story.
"We stepped outside and talked—because, let's face it, I needed it. The things I wanted to say to her, wanted to do to her weren't exactly appropriate for our current location. And out there on the balcony I had my shot. I should have kissed her. But I stopped. At the last minute I stopped and… I don't even know if I could tell you the reason why. It's one of my biggest regrets."
"But you made up for it," Matheson says.
"Beg pardon?"
"Your first kiss in the workshop. It sounds like you certainly repaid your debt there."
Pepper can only smile weakly because she literally cannot think, she literally cannot stop replaying that night over and over in her mind, analyzing it in detail, seeing it from his point of view now. He'd made passes at her for years, but to know he genuinely felt those things for her, to hear him say them out loud in a tone that is most certainly not a joke… suddenly this is very real.
"Oh no, I think it'll be a while before I repay her for that one," Tony says. He leans in to her then, his skin warm and his mustache softer than she expected, and places a wet kiss on her temple. His nose rests for a moment in the corner of her eye socket and she is sure she will never breathe again. When he pulls away she feels giddy, heady, like she's just stood up too quickly. It takes her a moment to realize he's still talking about her.
"…she's here when I get up every morning to brief me on my day—whether or not I listen is debatable—she's here working until well after I've called it quits. Every meeting, every trip, every mission, she is my go-to gal. I couldn't do any of it without her."
Pepper doesn't remember much of the interview after that.
