Look, an update!

First, I am so sorry for the incredibly long delay between this chapter and the last. In my defense, I never lied and told you upfront that updates wouldn't be regular, far from it. I finished my Masters' degree, and I'm taking a sort-of year off next year. I say 'sort-of' because I'll still go to class in order to prepare for a really hard competitive examination in order to become a university professor. However, instead of preparing the exam in one year, I'll do it in two. So next year will be relatively laid-back and then the year after, things will get really serious. I don't know if that will help with the updates. Hopefully it will, but I don't wan't to make any promises. In the meantime, I'm in holiday, and I'll try to write as much as I can. As you'll see, this chapter is Tony's POV of the first four chapters. It ends the first part of this fic and sets up the second part. It needed to be done, so don't hate me too much it this chapter doesn't really makes the story go forward. Next chapter will make things move on and will be a bit more explosive, I promise ;)

With lots of love, Callie

PS: Thanks for all of you who favorited/followed and reviewed this last few months. You rock!

PPS: Okay, so, I've been trying for 24 hours or so to post the chapter on but the doc manager doesn't seem to accept anything over 2000 words. So I'll try cutting up in two parts. I am so sorry for all of you who have received a false alert on an update for this story. I'll try fixing it up later and put everything in one chapter.

Chapter 5:

Tokyo, A few years ago

Time, admitedly, is not linear. The idea of past, present and future is a mere illusion. Something our brain made up in order to deal with the chaos of reality.

Tony is not well-versed in quantum physic theories but he does enough to question it: if time is not linear, does it mean that he's paying for some 'past' mistake he hasn't done yet? Or does he have to look elsewhere entirely and start pondering about the possible veracity in hindu philosophy?

God, he's wasted. And Rhodey's nowhere to be seen. Wait, had Rhodey been there at all? He's not sure anymore. Well, if he is there, he'll probably turn up sooner or later, ready to give him a hard time about drinking too much and not waiting for him. Whatever.

He tries to concentrate in order to remember what happened last night. His headache is killing him and so the details are a bit fuzzy, but he's 84% sure he's travelled in the last two days. To another continent. He looks at his surrounding and finds a bottle of sake which content is spilled on the bedspread.

Japan.

That's right. The contract and buy out. He's supposed to meet them tomorrow. In… fourteen hours or so, according to the alarm clock. There's no way he is going back to sleep now.

He needs a shower.

Twenty minutes or so later, he puts on a nice suit with a new watch he's bought just before leaving the States. The bar restaurant is open all hours of the night and the day. Better go find some company to drink with. Surely Japan has a few more sights to offer than just the one from the penthouse.

To say that it doesn't take him long to find such a sight would be an understatement. She's got her back to him for a few seconds before she turns her head, looking nowhere in particular and he knows he doesn't have to look any further. God, those legs and that face. Yes, that face. He knows her from somewhere. Not that it's surprising. This is the best hotel Tokyo has to offer. He's bound to meet people he's already met before or heard about. But he's almost certain he hasn't been with her already. Has he?

Either way, he knows he's going be wrapped up in her in less than an hour.

He observes the woman for a moment before sitting on the bar tool next to hers. She has a laconic look about her. She doesn't look sad exactly… or maybe she does. He's seen that look before. That thought takes him somewhere he doesn't want to go so he approaches her and says something about her needing the whole bottle rather than just a drink. She doesn't smile or laugh. He moves on to ask her name and she introduces herself. The famous Pepper Potts. Well, not as famous as him, obviously, but still, she's on her way to become something big. Even Obadiah tried to poach her for Stark Industries. He tells her and compliments her legs at the same time. Never tell him he's not good at multi-tasking. She, however, seems less than impressed by his charm.

"Mr. Stark, I am flattered by your interest in VAST's endeavours. If you have any questions as to our line of work, please make an appointment with Mr. Wanamaker's secretary. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must leave."

Tough crowd. Maybe he shouldn't have made a remark about her appearance. He apologizes before asking her if she'd like another drink. He thinks he's lost her when she takes him by surprise. She says yes. To everything. She asks him to be discreet about it and he agrees. It's not as if being on the front page of the tabloïds is his favorite activity. But he understands that a woman with a status such as hers.. well, that's got career suicide written all over it, if anything about to transpire between them gets leaked. He wonders in the elevator if he should tell her about tomorrow. He decides against it before he hears the faint chime of the elevator bell. This is pleasure, not business. Also, he doesn't think that telling her would work out in his favor. Tonight or tomorrow. He begins his usual routine of feigning to care about her professional endeavours. She answers him briefly before pointing out that he should speed things up and that's when he really gets interested. She's a no-nonsense kind of girl trapped in an underwear model body, who doesn't mind calling him out on his bullshit. She reminds him of Rhodey, somehow. If Rhodey was a hot, tall red-head.

Yeah, let's not go there.

She drinks the content of her glass and sets out for the bedroom. No time like the present, right? He follows her to the adjoining room.

She's mind blowing. He takes his time with her, going down on her (and oh, she's a real ginger and Tony likes her a little more for that), and while she tries to remain her dry-witted self at first, it all goes to hell when he adds a finger and god, when was the last time someone streched her that way? It's exhilarating. He wants to do a lot of unspeakable things to her, even more so than with some of the pretty air-head girls that seem to like to blow him. A lot. Although, when she proposes a helping hand to his hard problem, he denies her because he seriously needs to fill her now. And that's when she literally gets on top of things. Well, on top of him. God, he loves a woman who can take charge. He knows she finds it amusing and he thinks turnabout is fair play and after some quick banter about condoms and her being full of him, she sinks oh-so slowly on him. Things then go from fucking great to amazingly fucking awesome. He knows that's probably terrible syntax but who cares because Pepper Potts is riding him like a pro (no offense to real professionals, he's got a lot of respect for them) , and they come together as he swears to every divinity (even that one with the hammer).

She stays on top of him for a few moments after that, trying to find her breath and he keeps her close. She smells heavenly, he notices. Even with sweat and the pungent smell of sex around them, she still retains a faint scent of fresh oranges which reminds him of California. Of home. His heart skip a beat and he needs to get away from her, just for a moment, and anyway, the now full condom is getting uncomfortable. He delicately rolls her off him before going to the bathroom. Once there, he sees himself in the full wall mirror, disheveled, well-fucked and something else on his face he can't pinpoint. He bins the condom, thinks about putting a towel on before deciding against it, and grabs two bottles of water. She's still laying on the bed when he comes back but sits up as he hands her a bottle.

He takes his place next to her and her back distracts him. He strokes her without really thinking about it. She's smooth and delicate beneath his fingertips, which is something he loves about women in general, but even more so in a woman like Virginia. He knows instinctively that she can be a hard ass and that she probably doesn't take shit from anyone. But remove the clothes, the inhibitions, the hunger for more, and she almost looks vulnerable. Not that he'd ever tell that to her face, or even think that she's some fragile little thing. No, she probably knows better than most and anyway, that's not the point. He just loves that women have this innate ability of soothing him just because they allow him to get close to them. To let him touch them. That same ability scares him too sometimes, and Virginia, whom he's only known an hour or so, whose hair smells like home, who is probably more like him than she'd ever want to admit, living at the top and yet looking as lonely as he is, well, she reminds him of those moments in the blue hours of the night that he abhors to spend alone. That makes him want to keep her close, just a little longer, before he does something that will make her despise him. Because they never stay. He doesn't let them get too close. They always want something from him. And while she doesn't look like the others, while he can guess some scars that may or may not match his, the stakes are too high and Tony is nothing but a skilled businessman, even if he cannot bear this part of him from time to time. And he can hear his father telling him he's too cheap and she's expensive and you spoil everything Tony. That's a bad deal. Don't go ruining yourself on something you can't afford.

He sees she is in deep thoughts and asks her about it. She wants to leave. He asks her to stay. She refuses and gets dressed. His father chuckles somewhere at the back of his mind. Fuck off, Dad.

He sees her leave and he remembers that odd poem he once read when he was still in boarding school:

Do you see her in the black of the night

Trying to kiss the soul you never had?

Do you hear her at the darkest hour

Whispering the love that drove her mad?

Do you feel her before the first ray of light

Writing blood serments all over your back?

She dances, she screams, her tears become sour,

And still, she becomes the heart you sorely lack

"Well, until next time, Miss Potts."

"Until next time, Mr. Stark."

He knows he is doomed the moment her light perfume vanishes with her.