Author's Note: Thank you for all of the lovely reviews! They're like a cup full of Ben & Jerry's New York Super Fudge Chunk after a lovely dinner. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. ...And now, back to your regularly scheduled 'ship.
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Tony Stark was generally considered (by anyone whose opinion counted) the model of the evolved male of the species. He was wildly brilliant, incredibly successful at whatever he chose to do, he was unbelievably affluent, he had a personal charisma that inspired others to go beyond what they'd previously imagined possible, and a magnetic draw that left members of the appropriate sex begging in his wake. While some believed that this was in fact, a mutant ability (and one, it should be mentioned that others desperately wanted as well, genome research being what it was), all respectable pundits did still consider him Homo sapiens sapiens, not Homo sapiens exultet.
Just at the moment, Tony felt like Homo sapiens idaltu, or perhaps even Homo neanderthalensis. He blamed it on his hindbrain – that reptilian bit that stored all the good instincts, like feasting and fucking and running the hell away.
The reason for his descent into the more Cro-Magnon spheres of his being could be attributed to a conversation that he had just lately overheard involving images of the apple of his eye and a baseball bat. There was something, some almost ineffable feeling that curled from the base of his neck to his gut that just yelled 'MINE' in the most primitive and guttural way, and this feeling momentarily overwhelmed him when he first overhead the above mentioned conversation.
It wasn't a rational thing. Rationally, he'd want to tease her, or find out more, or ask about the highly intriguing timeline that was mentioned. Rationally, he might be saddened that his past was destined to haunt him for some time, or he might be considering different angles with which to woo the family and loved ones of his dear, sweet, seemingly non-violent Pepper. Rationally, he had several different options and the freedom to choose his response.
Irrationally, there was a part of him that just wanted to mount her, right there in the back of the Bentley. For a very brief moment – the span of, say, three heartbeats – that part of him consisted of his entire being.
Three seconds later he still remained in his position and the phone conversation continued on, without interruption until its end. The moment the electronic beep signaled that she had indeed hung up, the words were out of his mouth before thinking, and the H. sapiens in him had taken over again.
"Baseball bat, huh? Sounds pretty extreme. And a little vulgar," he said with a small but growing smile on his face. It was a small smile that was quickly turning lecherous. "I'm okay with it, though."
Pepper sighed and stared straight ahead at the front seat. "Those were not my exact words," she bit out tersely.
Tony smiled widely before wiping the expression off his face, lest she glance over and think he was mocking her – unduly.
"What were your exact words, Miss Potts?" His voice was low and intimate and he was leaning over in his seat towards her, just slightly.
"I don't immediately recall." She was still sitting stiffly and exactly upright, clutching her phone in her hand.
"I see. Well, exactitude aside, I get your gist. Let's discuss timeline. A year ago would put us…" he trailed off to consider it, but was cut off by her soft voice immediately breaking through his thoughts.
"It wasn't a year ago."
"I'm listening." Oh, and he was. Listening, intrigued, and every molecule focused at attention, he was fully willing to soak up whatever she had to say.
"It was..." she trailed off momentarily, for drama or calculation Tony couldn't tell. "Ten months ago. More or less."
His brain did the calculations quickly. Ten months ago was February. From mid-December to mid-March he'd been in Afghanistan, building the Mark I, among other things. His stomach dropped. This was not a conversation he was prepared to have right now. "I was away then," he said vaguely.
"Yes," she said, turning to look at him for the first time since her sister had started laughing, which he had heard with crystal clarity over the phone. "You were." She reached over and gently took his hand in hers, but said no more, and looked out the window at the passing scenery.
Long moments passed before the silence was broken.
"Ten months. Ten months? Ten months, most of which I was present, accounted for, perfectly charming and totally attentive. Ten months and only now are we dating?" The incredulous tone was utterly genuine.
She looked over at him and gave a little squeeze of his hand as she fought to hide a smile. She shrugged.
"Not good enough."
She rolled her eyes. "What do you want me to say, Tony?"
"The truth."
"The truth? I had to know who you were."
"Who I am? Pepper, for God's sake, we've been working together for nine years. You may be the only one in this world who really does know me."
"And that's how I was able to recognize that you came back from Afghanistan a different man that's got nothing to do with post traumatic stress or momentary bouts of corporate insanity. I needed to know who you were now."
He swallowed past the lump in his throat and tried not to think about what it meant. "And, what if I hadn't come back changed?" He caught her eyes and tried not to drown.
She smiled a sad and painful looking smile. "I probably would have quit."
His stomach dropped again. God, this was a hellish ride into town. "I thought you hated job hunting," he said, his voice somewhat gravelly.
"It would have been less painful than the alternative." He held up the her hand, clasped in his and pressed his lips to the backs of her fingers for a moment. He then shifted her hand into his other one, and slid over closer to her, wrapping his now free arm around her shoulders and bringing her closer. He took a deep breath and kissed the side of her head, just above her ear.
They sat in silence for a moment, and for a very brief moment, he allowed himself to really feel the pain of that alternate reality that was, thankfully, closed to him now. He didn't let his mind stray back to the cave, but stayed present with her, in the car, just in that moment. Breathing in the smell of her, feeling her shoulders, her warm hand in his, all these things helped to ground him just in that moment, and it did successfully keep him from the cave.
After a moment he piped up, his usual humor coming to the fore again. "What about the baseball bat?" he asked, in a mock-wounded fashion.
"Well, maybe one for the road. I still find that Vanity Fair reporter rather annoying. But generally I'll leave the assault charges to you. You seem to be so good at gathering them up." The finger tips of both hands were drawing little patterns on his palm and the back of his hand. She looked over at him, and he was struck for the first time at how much his happiness depended on her.
"Hey, none of those have ever stuck," he pointed out softly, feeling like he was drowning in her eyes and sinking closer and closer to sweet oblivion.
"And that is because you have two judges in your pocket, in case of emergency." Her smile challenged him to argue, but he gave up his reputation of having an answer for everything and decided instead to kiss her.
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...yes, I swear, the lunch is coming soon...
