"So Mr. Stark, was that Email serious?" came the chatty question from the leggy blonde handing out SI key chains at the booth. "About the kitties?"
"It was, um, Anne-Marie," Tony managed to sneak a peek at the name badge pinned on her expansive chest. It was worth checking out, and in the past he might have let his gaze linger, but not now.
"Ooooh, are there any left?" she cooed, sounding as if she was asking about cookies instead of live animals.
"Nnnnnno," came the truthful reply. Three of the kittens had been farmed out after careful 'vetting by both Tony and Pepper; the remaining three were now residents of the workshop with all the benefits and privileges therein.
Tony didn't want to admit to anyone how much bargaining and pleading on his part had gone into that arrangement.
"Oh too bad! I'm really, really good with cuddling kitties! They love to nestle right up in here!" Anne-Marie pouted, curving a slim hand towards her deep and generous cleavage.
Tony blinked, caught in the bizarre mental image of Ace popping out of her décolletage like some sort of furry jack-in-the-box, mewing indignantly over the tight fit.
"Mr. Stark." Pepper broke into his reverie, her tone arch. "The car?"
"Car? Oh! yeah, the winner. Check time," Tony nodded, and wagged a few fingers goodbye at Anne-Marie and her kitten-less canyon. Pepper gripped his elbow with more force than was strictly necessary as she guided him along. "Ow."
"I don't care if you are wearing sunglasses—staring is rude," Pepper huffed, steering Tony up to the platform as hundreds of cameras clicked around them, the flashes blinding.
"I wasn't staring," Tony felt compelled to contradict her. "Okay, maybe a little, but honest to God, Pepper; she did have them out there, practically in neon lights—and why do you care anyway?"
"Be-cause, Mr. Stark, if you'd told her you had the other three kittens at home then she'd ask if she could come over to see them, and that would lead to all sorts of . . . com-pli-ca-tions," Pepper replied, striving to smile even as she lectured him out of the side of her mouth.
Tony sighed and picked up the huge cardboard check, which was a beautiful piece of art in its own right, complete with a flourish-filled facsimile of his signature in the lower right hand corner.
He presented it to the winner of the Grand Prix, making jokes and drawing in the crowd, doing it all practically on automatic. Twenty minutes later when it was over, Happy and Pepper hustled him out and away, into the limo beyond the roar of the Long Beach crowd.
Tony let his head flop back against the velour seat and loosened his tie.
"I used to like . . . complications," he murmured wistfully.
On the seat opposite him, Pepper shot him an unreadable look and he shut up.
The car rolled along in traffic, taking detours and passing through unfamiliar sections of highway. Night was starting to fall, and the weather had gotten foggy and cold. Tony held his hands out and looked at them.
A matched set.
"Organs," he murmured.
Pepper looked up from her Blackberry and blinked. "I'm sorry?"
"Organic. Jarvis theorized that those . . . parts we saw in Diablo might possibly be organic and following on that logic, that would, could make those parts . . . organs."
"Organs," Pepper echoed curiously. There was a hint of a smile along the corner of her mouth, and Tony felt his own move to match it.
"Organs. What comes in pairs?" The minute he said it, he smirked, enjoying the wave of pink that delicately colored Pepper's cheeks.
She knew what came in pairs, certainly.
"Kidneys."
"Kidneys? Come ON, Potts—" Tony chided playfully. "Diablo has both an air filter and an oil filter—I can't think of any other circulatory mediums."
"Tonsils?" came her next offer, carefully avoiding any hint of impropriety.
Tony laughed. "If we think of lifting the hood as opening Diablo's mouth, maybe—but not too many living things have their entire guts in their mouths."
She gave an elegant shrug, waiting for him to state the obvious. Tony cocked his head and drew a breath before murmuring. "Lungs."
That wasn't what she'd been expecting, and Pepper blinked. Tony looked upward, at the roof of the limo. "Lungs. Enhancements to the air filter, drawing in more air for something than cooling. If they ARE lungs, then it's possible they separate air into its molecules and use the oxygen to enrich the fuel."
"Tony, you've been watching too many Next Generation episodes with Borgs in them," Pepper chided dismissingly. "It's not logical that a manufactured vehicle would have . . . lungs."
"There's a lot about Diablo that defies logic," came his counter as he leaned back and rubbed his chin. "And you have to admit, something is in there. Let's check it out when we get home, okay?"
But as they pulled into the driveway, Jarvis announced that a call had come in about a UN relief convoy caught in a mine field. Tony headed down and Suited up, taking off with the ease of familiarity, his repulsor streams trailing through the foggy night air.
Pepper watched him go, her arms full of Jack, her expression worried.
*** *** ***
Tony decided that landmines were the most insidious, passive-aggressive devices ever created in the history of warfare, and that Stark Industries needed to develop a way of detecting the most common plastics used in manufacturing them, pronto.
In the meantime, doing the repulsor version of Whack-a-Mine was getting old, fast.
*** *** ***
The storms rolled in, moving down the coast in a sweep of cold and fog, bringing with it chilly silver rain. For two days they pounded the windows and scoured the cliffs, drenching everything within sight and leaving a lingering chill through out the mansion that not even the central heating and fireplace could dispel.
Pepper fretted. Tony was due back soon, and although she'd juggled his schedule and was on stand-by, it was always an anxious time for her.
She worried that Tony was too fond of the risks.
He'd always been one to push the envelope; to glut himself on the adrenaline rush of doing the right thing via greater firepower. Pepper didn't try to pretend she approved of it whole-heartedly, but it was Tony's M. O. and always had been. The fact that he'd put some moral justification behind his zeal was good, but no less frightening at times, and Pepper stayed torn between being proud of him and being terrified for his safety.
She curled up on the sofa in the workshop, trying to type on the laptop, well-aware of the three warm little bodies piled up close around her in the semi-gloom. A few yards away sat Diablo still and quiet.
Pepper let her gaze flick to the car. There was something odd about it, and she looked over again a moment later, trying to figure out what it was.
Same rusted grille, same slightly dented hood, same curving windshield with a small crack in the lower driver hand side same—
She blinked and stared harder. From the rearview mirror hung a tiny gold rosary.
Pepper was fairly sure it hadn't been there before. She felt her skin prickle a bit, and froze, wondering whether to go look at it, or stay huddled with the Tiny Trio on the sofa.
Ace lifted his head and yawned, pink mouth and needle fangs flashing in the dim light. The simple reality of that sight grounded Pepper, and she snorted, feeling more sure of herself. This was the workshop, set in concrete both literal and metaphorical; there was nothing here in the least bit spooky.
She rose before her nerve failed, and locked her eyes on Diablo. "Okay, let's have a look," Pepper said.
Carefully, step by step she moved towards the car, trying to be nonchalant. As Pepper drew near, she felt an odd tingle in the air and looked up, checking the air conditioner vents, but they were silent.
Nevertheless, the slightly eerie feeling persisted, like a brush of hair across her skin, and Pepper hesitated, caught between pushing onward or retreating again. She took a deep, stabilizing breath and leaned down, reaching through the driver's side window to touch the little gold cross.
It was cool to the touch, and Pepper examined it in the low light, noting the filigree craftsmanship. She ran a gentle thumb over it. For a moment nothing happened, and then, faintly, the scent of cinnamon drifted past her nose.
Pepper froze.
For a long moment she stayed perfectly still, not blinking, not moving. A few seconds ticked by, and then the low and distant rumble of thunder broke the spell. Pepper let go of the crucifix with a jump, and drew in a sharp breath.
Jarvis spoke. "Mr. Stark's ETA is two minutes."
"Th-thank you, Jarvis," Pepper murmured and she scooted away from Diablo, not looking back at the car. "Lights please."
Obediently the AI turned up the workshop lights. Queenie skittered away to the comfy basket near the stairs while Ace and Jack blinked lazily at the brightness.
Tony dropped in with less grace than usual, thunking onto the concrete, his tired voice tinny through the amplifiers. "Suit off. Jarvis, draw a bath, pronto. Potts, stand back; you're not going to like the smell."
Pepper grinned despite herself and moved closer anyway, watching the dismantlers work to take Tony out of his armor. When the helmet came off her smirk deepened; his hair was a tangled mess, somehow sexier than when he had it nearly combed and clean.
"Warning you. I'm . . . ripe," Tony muttered. "To the extreme."
"Maybe we ought to tuck one of those little pine tree air fresheners inside your suit."
"I'd need the entire Great Northwest at the moment," Tony sighed, reaching to rub the back of his neck. "Next dismantling project, Miss Potts—land mines. I'm thinking of using satellites to map and pinpoint the damned things for easier disposal."
"Commendable," Pepper murmured, rubbing her nose a little. "Not to hustle you out of here when you're so obviously tired, but—"
"—but the eau de eww is getting to you too," Tony snorted. "Try flying in it. I'm sure I'll need to replace the air filters in the armor. Bath. I'll be back in twenty, so don't go anywhere, all right?"
It was closer to sixty, but Pepper didn't mind. The reassurance that Tony was home and still in one piece made it easier to concentrate on her laptop, and when she heard him coming back down the stairs without his usual bounce, she smiled to herself.
He had a towel around his shoulders, and his hair was still wet, but the kittens still came over to him, sniffing at his bare feet. Tony scooped up Jack, who purred like a motor. "Hello, chubby," Tony murmured affectionately. "Guarding those kibble bowls good, are you?"
Jack purred louder, eyes closing as Tony stroked him and came over to where Pepper was rising from the sofa. "Have you eaten?"
She looked startled. "Isn't that something I'm supposed to ask you?"
"Thought I'd beat you to the punch," Tony admitted. "Jack here says you're starving him."
"Riiiight,"
Tony gently cupped the kitten's head. "Would this face lie? Please—the boy's on the verge of keeling over. I'm thinking Mac and cheese would be good for all three of us right about now."
"Cats do NOT need macaroni and cheese," Pepper protested, but moved to the kitchenette and opened a cupboard. Several blue boxes were there and she took one down, moving through the steps with the ease of familiarity. "You're going to want--"
"—double cheese, yep," Tony grinned. "Don't lie; you love it too."
Pepper did. She filled a saucepan and set it to boil on the hotplate, and checked the fridge for milk as Tony settled himself down on the sofa with a groan. "Ohh, we're all domestic now. I blew up land mines, today honey. Anything interesting happen here while I was gone?"
"Diablo grew a necklace," she replied flippantly. "Unless you were the one to have him blessed."
She looked over from the pot; Tony's arched eyebrow was a wordless question, so Pepper pointed with her chin. "Take a look—on the rearview mirror."
Groaning softly, Tony rose off the sofa and lumbered over to Diablo while Pepper checked the water and added the noodles to it. She gave them a stir.
"Necklace?"
"A rosary."
"Nope."
Pepper looked up, exasperated, but Tony was in the driver's seat, staring up at the mirror, his expression serious. She stirred the noodles then set down the spoon and went over to the car, her gaze on the mirror.
There was nothing there.
Confused, Pepper reached up to touch the stem and the mirror under it, her fingers running along the edges. "It was right here, Tony!"
"What did it look like?" he asked, and Pepper noted there was no scoffing in his tone; no doubt.
"Well . . . it was little and gold. Filigree."
"Gold?"
"Yes," Pepper murmured, looking down at Tony, who had cocked his head thoughtfully. "Does that mean something?"
"That it was expensive?"
"Don't be flip," Pepper chided. "I'm telling you it was right there. I touched it."
"I believe you," Tony murmured softly. "And the noodles are boiling over."
Pepper gave a sigh and moved back to the hotplate, impatiently pulling the saucepan off of it and stirring the noodles with more force than necessary. Behind her she heard Tony climb out of Diablo again, his footsteps soft on the concrete. Pepper drained the noodles, added the two packets of powdered cheese, milk and butter, then stirred it up. "I don't make things up. I know what I saw and felt, Tony. It was real and it was there. Maybe Jarvis has it on the house surveillance video . . ."
She turned, pot in hand, ready to face Tony's expression, whatever it might be.
He was sound asleep, sprawled on the sofa, kittens already settling in on his stomach and on either side of his head as he snored, softly.
Pepper sighed, and pulled out a Tupperware container.
*** *** ***