Burger King and Extra Olives, Please
Allay was one of Pepper Potts' favorite 21-and-over vicinities.
It wasn't outrageously exclusive, nor was the bill obscene. It was a personable setting, with an intimate feel to it. And of course, there wasn't any of the usual techno-rap-emo-dance garbage that thrived and reproduced in L.A. hot spots.
It was the place she went when her eccentric boss took some curvy, attractive Suzy Q. out for a spin.
It was the place where she contemplated most of the thoughts she rarely allowed herself to contemplate.
And most importantly of all, Tony Stark knew nothing of the place.
Still, Mr. Stark had lost a little of his hormonal drive over the past few months since his confrontation with Obadiah Stane— and by little, I mean an extremely marginal amount; after all, it takes a bit more than living in a terrorist cell for three months to beat out the playboy in a genius billionaire— and this had left Pepper Potts in quite desperate need of a nice night with the bottle.
"The usual, Miss Potts?" The bartender asked as Pepper situated herself on the cushioned stool nearest to the back end of the bar. She wasn't particularly keen on overzealous fans of her boss and their incessant questions, so she figured taking this spot would deter most of them away from her.
"Of course."
And so, for the first time that week, she ventured into a very dark, narrow corridor in her mind. She saw herself on the rooftop of the Disney banquet hall… dancing in the moonlight to the soft music from below with… with…
Tony.
She saw him returning with her martini… him kissing her softly… carrying her back to his room…
And then she saw herself—quiet and conservative as always— showing her half naked body out the door and out of his life.
That was how it went.
Tony Stark didn't have relationships, she knew. He had passionate one night stands that ended with both parties not particularly interested in one another.
Pepper Potts didn't have relationships, either. She lived, breathed and ate her work and nothing more. It was all she cared for.
But still, it was nice to dream.
"Here's your vodka martini, extra dry and extra olives, Miss Potts."
"Thank you."
The tip jar was always full when she left.
A/N: A little bit more angsty, because I loves me some angst (I'm a Zutarian, please. That's an Avatar term, if you don't know, lol.) And thanks to the reviewers, I appreciate your words very much!