A/N: Well, clearly seeing IM 2 was the kind of inspiration that 4persephone and I needed, as this is the third story we're updating in less than 24 hours. Though, I must admit that sym and n1f here have been sitting around mostly finished for more weeks than either of us will admit. But here is your n1f fix, so you can stop sending the death threats to my dear compadre. *wink* Though I did tell her that I enjoy the part of the review system where I get the compliments and she gets the threats for more.
There are things we talk about and things we don't. Barriers we shore up so that we can continue to be what we are to one another...
Of course there's also the stuff we don't talk about because, frankly speaking, you're a pig.
Like that shirt on your bedroom floor? It's been there nearly three days...a precise fiveinches from the laundry shoot. Don't even get me started on the ring of beard and mustache trimmings that wind up in the sink.
Service announcement, Stark - I don't want to know how the pale yellow silk panties ended up in your freezer! So please refrain from sharing while dishing us each up a bowl of ice cream at one o'clock in the morning during Major Report Week...
You have no grasp at all of how much overtime you're supplying to my therapist.
The alarm on Pepper's BlackBerry goes off, pulling her back from her writing. Looks like her lunch break is over. 'No rest for the weary,' she acknowledges with a small groan. The contents of her and Tony's inboxes isn't going to magically shrink if she keeps on ignoring them. Not any more than the low grade ache in her lower back.
She looks at what she wrote, frowns a bit, then hits the 'x' in the corner of the window without adding more or saving the file. It's official...no more writing vignettes in the middle of epic-level PMS.
It's just…she's desperate to write something new. Something meaningless. Because her stories are slowly reaching the point of no return. She's been patient, and good, and posting things in order and she's run out of any stories that take place before Afghanistan. Pretty soon she won't be showing people stories that dance around things, but ones that slog through messy topics and emotions. She wants to skip it altogether, but people are already asking in reviews why she hasn't covered the one event that makes Tony Stark a figure worth writing about in the first place. She hasn't mentioned Afghanistan, she's never written about Iron Man, and she's never even used the word hero except in Tony's dialogue.
And now she's circled around and around and around the topic until it seems as if it's all anyone is interested in anymore, because if her run of the mill stories are so "awesome," then what could she do with "really sensational material."
But for her, the only sensations those times cause are of worry and grief. And one bright, blinding moment of joy before chaos became the SOP.
Writing a bitchy PMS-ing piece almost seems like a better option.
She works through the inboxes and is almost an hour into culling the bi-monthly departmental memos by order of importance – interesting, boring but necessary, he'll never read it in a million years – when the seat next to her jostles a bit and a steaming mug is more or less thrust in her face.
"It's decaf," Tony assures her when she stares blankly at the mug. "Come on, we both know your blood sugar's taking a nosedive right now. You didn't even notice when I asked if you wanted a snack."
Pepper takes the mug as she scoots her laptop off onto the couch on her other side. "This is that chocolate raspberry tea I've been trying to find for ages," she almost accuses after taking her first sip. If he's managed to track down a flavor of tea she'd thought had been discontinued, then he's about to ask her for something big.
He shrugs and hopes she takes his words at face value because no matter what he tells her, that tea had not been easy to find. "I figured it wouldn't hurt to have a stash tucked away for the occasional pick me up." She raises an eyebrow. He just shrugs again and asks to move the conversation away from anything he might have done, "So...what's on the schedule...for the rest of the afternoon? Anything interesting?"
"Memos," she says, handing him a stack of file folders nearly an inch thick. "Those are just the ones I've printed out so far." She takes another cautious sip of her tea and stares at the cinnamon cranberry bagel spread with cream cheese that sits on the table in front of her. "What do you want?"
"Wow." Tony carefully leans back into the sofa and lets out a deep sigh. "Paranoid much, Potts? Talk about a loaded question."
"Yeah well, you're being nice to me."
"This is a bad thing?"
"Bad, no. Suspicious, yes. Don't even get me started on the Spain incident." The last time he was "nice" to her he'd conned her into something that ended...interestingly.
Tony rolls his eyes. "You're going to have to stop holding that against me, eventually. Besides, it wasn't as if you didn't get something out of it." He rubs his face and takes a sip of his own - caffeinated - coffee. "I'm starting to get a little stir crazy. And while normally, I'd take one of the bikes out for a spin..." He winces at just the thought. "My ribs just won't take it at the moment."
Her face slides into something that may actually be sympathy. "You could always call up Rhodey and challenge him to a death match on the Gamecube or something..."
'Don't want to hang out with Rhodey,' Tony's inner voice whined... 'Want you to play hooky so I can play hooky with you.'
Turbo was bored with paperwork...and to tell the truth, so was Fanny. He knows that she hates "death by papercut" Thursdays...had watched her type about it for half an hour last night. And the worst of it was, there wasn't a single thing on the task list that couldn't stand to wait. Hell, she'd admitted that herself. Not that he was supposed to know that.
He looks at the stack of file folders sitting on his knee and at the computer sitting at her side. What if tonight he could persuade her to stay and talk to him instead of going home to let their alter egos take the heat?
"How about I agree that I will read these on one condition."
The way Pepper immediately tenses is a little amusing, but more so, it's an example of the kinds of conditions and compromises and deals he usually makes.
"I will read these and anything else you decide to print out. However, you are going to take a break and eat your bagel. And then you're going to order something in for dinner and we're going to have a battle royale to decide which of us is the better robber baron." Her blank look makes him shake his head. "I might be able to excuse you for never having heard of 'Operation,' but it's downright un-American to have never heard of 'Monopoly.'"
"You want to play a board game?" she questions in disbelief.
"Not just any board game." Tony is quick to correct her. "The Antique Cars Edition that Rhodey brought over for me recently."
Pepper snorts. "That was meant as a White Elephant gift, you know."
"No...the homemade IronMaid deck he taped to the top of the box was meant to fill that function."
Pepper finally gives in and reaches for her snack. "You'd be a much richer man if you'd let your attorneys start the process getting a trademark for your alter-ego, you know."
"True enough…I suppose that a portion of the proceeds could be set aside for charity." He pouts a little. "I still can't believe you can't find any more of the good Iron Man lunchboxes..."
Pepper's lips quiver in what may be a firmly repressed smile. "We've been over this before with the bobbleheads, Tony: it's not my fault when high demand items end up running out of stock."
"So call up the manufacturer..."
"I did."
"And?"
"They said they're netting much bigger profits from manufacturing paraphernalia for the Twilight franchise at present. They're not really interested in producing another lot."
Tony blinks. "You're telling me I'm losing out in sales to a whiny teenage girl and a sparkly vampire?"
Pepper stares at him for a moment. "You know more about Twilight than I expected you to."
"I might have...err...accidentally downloaded the movie..."
"That doesn't explain why you watched it."
Tony gets a little red. "Okay changing the subject..."
"Just tell me you don't have High School Musical or Camp Rock anywhere in this house..."
"Camp what?"
Pepper's lips quirk. "Thank God. Are you sure you don't need to spend a few hours doing something a bit more manly than playing board games?"
It's the kind of opening Tony would normally let slide, and exactly the kind of opening that he suspects Turbo is expected to take advantage of. "Well, I can think of a few things that you and I could do together that'd require more testosterone than Monopoly, but they're not the sort of thing you normally volunteer for." He waggles his eyebrows at her as he waits for a response. Is Pepper or Fanny going to pick up the gauntlet?
From the spark in her eye it looks like Fanny's the one who opens her mouth to say something, but it's Pepper who closes it and focuses on the pile of file folders on his knee. "Even if I were going to stay late tonight for games and junk food, you'd still need to read through and sign off on the paperwork."
"Pen." He takes a clipboard and scrawls his signature where she's marked. "Since it's my game I get first pick, and I want to be the Scotty."
Pepper raises an eyebrow at that. "As opposed to the automobile?"
He waves his hand, "Can't always be that predictable you know. You'd get bored if I did."
Pepper sips her tea and thinks to herself that she wouldn't mind if he were occasionally just a little more predictable. "Fine, but I get the top hat. Now scoot. It's only three o'clock. We can both get at least two more hours in."
He grumbles. "Like there's anything either of us really needs to be doing this close to end of day."
Pepper raises as eyebrow, "Last I checked, department memos are necessary..."
"Yes, but ones for a meeting five weeks from now are not."
"Those memos for the meetings next month are each department's best chance to entice you into actually making an appearance." No matter how calmly the words are said, Pepper still colors... "Besides, I...um...need to recheck for email."
"Waiting on something important?" He quirks an eyebrow as he asks.
Pepper tosses her head and says lightly - though with a touch of defiance. "Not that it's any of your business, but I have something like a standing date with an online friend to chat most Thursdays."
"Ahhhhh." It's amazing how much meaning he can pack into just one simple word.
"It's not what you think."
"Mmm-hmm." Two syllables or less seem to work best. In his experience, Pepper-babble tends to reveal far more than prodding.
Her eyes narrow in his direction. "I'd think you'd be adult to realize that men and women are capable of talking without wanting to get into each other's pants." Then she mutters, almost too quietly for him to hear, "After all, we're in the same boat."
He ignores the tag for the time being, focusing on the first part of her defense. "I never said anything about anyone's pants."
"You didn't need to. Your tone did," she mutters.
"Actually I had assumed your friend was a woman." He lies back dryly.
"Well, since we're using internet handles, maybe they are. But man or woman, they're a good conversationalist and that's all that really matters." Pepper sniffs, and picks up her laptop with an air of determination.
Not that Tony's particularly ready to pick up on the cue.
"So...." He perches himself on the edge of the table expectantly...
"So?"
"Tell me more...what's this friend of yours like...?"
"No. Last I checked this is not a made for TV movie and you're not my BFF."
"Yes, but you're a valuable asset, Pepper. Can't have you getting your heart broken by some creep you met online." What will she say to that? Will she defend him? Or rather, Turbo? Does he want her to? Once again he's struck uncertain by how important he really wants his alter-alter-ego to be to her.
"Turbo's really more of a geek than a creep..."
"You're hanging out with someone named Turbo?" He has to make himself react the way he would if he weren't the guy at the other end. Though the sentiment isn't totally false; his pleasure at being defended is equally balanced by hearing himself being called a geek.
"I told you, it's an IM handle. He likes fast cars, thus his name." Pepper stares at her computer screen - glares at it, actually - and pounds on the keyboard a little harder than strictly necessary.
"And what's he like? How did the two of you meet?"
"God, could you sound anymore like a big brother?" Pepper snorts in response.
"No offense, Pep, but I don't exactly think of you as my baby sister." The words come shooting out of his mouth before he can even consider them.
Pepper's fingers pause their staccato tapping, though she doesn't look up from the screen. It seems his brief moment of honesty has frozen her in place. It's starting to look like that's her natural response to his being honest.
"It's harmless..." she finally says. "He just interjects an occasional slice of humor into the end of my day."
Apparently ignoring the comment outright seems to be her current strategy. He shouldn't be surprised. Shouldn't be frustrated. But he is. He wants to grab her by the shoulders and shake her and ask just what the hell it's going to take for her to look at him and see someone worth taking a chance on.
He settles for running one hand through his hair and finishing his coffee. "I hope that you're being careful, despite the elation your nighttime chats are causing. I can't tell you the number of times I've heard complete wackos described as being 'such a nice guy.'" He already knows she's being careful, but she doesn't know he knows, and he wants her to know that her safety matters to him.
Her smile's a little wry. "In case you haven't noticed, my picture's in the dictionary next to the word careful, Tony."
"Good." He stands up, cup in hand. "I'd hate to have to take time out of my heavily supervised schedule in order to train a new you. If doing so is even possible."
Peppers snorts, mutters something under her breath that causes Tony to fight back a cough. It sounds suspiciously like "You're misrepresenting who exactly trained who..."
Feeling just a little bit lighter since that was the kind of comment he'd expect from Fanny, Tony says, "Well, I'll leave you to it then. Be warned though, come five o'clock, I'm dragging you downstairs for our battle royale." Perhaps with a beer or two in her, she'll be more accommodating in the snark department.
"Kiss Park Place goodbye," she warns as he disappears from view.
"Arrogance. Fall," he hollers back.
That's the last thing either of them say till the takeout arrives.
"Park Place...with a hotel...that comes to...more than you have in cash." She looks over his property cards thoughtfully. "But we can discuss real estate..."
"I thought you'd never played this game," Tony mopes, just the faintest bit pathetically.
"I never said that. I reacted in surprise when you mentioned that you wanted to play what is traditionally a slow-moving and occasionally tedious game. You're the one who assumed I hadn't played before." Pepper finishes off her second beer of the night. "Now. We can discuss terms for your unconditional surrender, or we can do this the hard way."
Tony raises an eyebrow. "And what exactly does the hard way entail? So I can make an informed choice..."
Pepper's lips quirk. "We drag this out for every agonizing second until I own everything in your possession, including a few things outside of the game set."
"Pretty sure of yourself, aren'tcha? I've got a pretty good amount of my own property up ahead."
"At the rate this game has been going, I'd have to land on each of your properties twice to be in the state you are now." Pepper fans herself with a stack of 100s.
"I'm starting to think you missed your calling, Potts. You'd make a killing in real estate."
"Instead I make a killing for you." She shrugs. "Now lets see those properties, Stark. You still owe me $250."
"I'll give you my two railroads. You'll make more in rent when you have the full set."
It's the property she would have asked for, but having it offered to her out of hand is a little unnerving. "That sounds suspiciously like a concession." Pepper stands and takes her empty bottle over to the kitchenette. Placing it into the recycling bin, she starts up the espresso machine.
He frowns a little. "You're having coffee at this hour? You'll never sleep tonight."
"Got to start sobering up enough to drive...it's already nearly 9 pm."
Tony frowns harder and rearranges his properties since they're all he has left, especially if she leaves. "Live a little, Potts. Nine is not late. And if you really think your driving abilities are impaired, I have more than enough guest bedrooms to accommodate you."
"I really shouldn't ..."
It's more of a concession than he'd been expecting, and it spurs him on. "Why not? We both know you have a spare suit in your trunk and it'll spare you a long drive before our hideously early start tomorrow morning."
Pepper snorts at that description. "Tony, 7:45 is not that bad..."
"Sure, if you go to bed before 9 PM it's not," he teases. "Some of us have lives, Pepper."
"Of course, sir. How could I have missed that?" She looks pointedly around the messy shop, almost making Tony break out in delighted laughter.
He loves her snarky side, more than it would be healthy for him if she knew. "Seriously, Potts...if you're tipsy enough to need coffee, you're tipsy enough it'd probably be wiser to crash here...especially on a major league ball night. Every idiot and their brother's gonna be leaving the stadium about now to get drunk..."
Pepper's mouth tightens as she looks at the espresso machine, but Tony knows it's the propriety of staying over that has her hesitating, not an actual dislike of his company.
Finally – it seems like an eternity that she keeps him waiting – she shuts the machine down and turns. "If I hear one word about you making breakfast for me in the morning, I'll just wait until everyone's home before I leave."
"I don't cook breakfast," he shoots back dryly. "I blend."
She snorts. "I stand corrected." She grabs another beer out of the mini fridge and comes back to the table. "So can I ask a weirdish question...?"
"You can ask..."
"Why the sudden 180 on wanting company? I mean last week you couldn't wait to get rid of me. Practically booted me out the door at 6 pm."
To Pepper's surprise Tony went suddenly, radiantly pink. "Like I said, some of us have lives." Not terribly exciting lives, but lives nonetheless. "So do we agree my railroads are a fair trade, or do you want to throw in my firstborn as well."
"I'd consider a straightforward answer a fair trade," Pepper murmurs, taking a sip from her drink. And just like that, the evening isn't about the game anymore. Or at least, not about the board game. Verbal games are something else entirely. "You're honestly telling me that you have a life now?" Her voice holds distinct skepticism.
"Maybe it's not exciting and glamorous as it used to be, but it's also a lot less cluttered with empty pursuits and vacuous hangers-on." Tony can't help but feel just a little defensive. Getting Fanny's honesty over an internet connection is a hell of a lot different than sitting across from a very calm Pepper Potts as she starts poking at the life he's trying to build for himself. You'd think she'd appreciate better than anyone his restraint in finding company.
"I'm not criticizing, Tony...I know and respect...the changes you're making. But You've also been Quasimodoing so unless..." Her eyes narrow. "Wait a minute..."
"What?"
Her eyes narrow then she smirks. "There'd be signs around the house unless…you've found yourself an E-friend."
"I don't know what you're talking about." Tony picks up the dice and throws them, despite the fact that it's Pepper's turn. However, as he doesn't really want the night to end with Pepper storming out of the house – it suddenly strikes him how very upset Pepper might get about his alter ego – the best strategy seems to be to forge ahead.
Redirect.
Obfuscate.
"Let me guess...techgeek group? Automotive advice community?"
He puts his nose up in the air. Sniffs. Reaches desperately for the first excuse his mind can conjure. "Haiku writing group actually."
Pepper blinks. "Haiku?"
"Jarvis got me interested."
"Indeed, Mr Stark is quite talented at the genre..." The AI inserts generously.
"Haiku?"
"We're allowed hidden depths, Ms Potts. I may not share much of my stuff, but I feedback generously." It was technically true. Wrong literary forum, but true.
He glances up at Pepper through the fall of overgrown hair that covers his eyes as he bends over the board to move. She's studying him, and not because he's moving out of turn. Her eyes are sharp, but apparently the corroboration from Jarvis is enough to keep her from pursuing the line of questioning.
"So do you actually tell anyone you meet online who you are, Tony?"
"Does anyone?"
"You know what I mean."
He shrugs. "Sometimes even I enjoy a little anonymity." She keeps looking at him. "What? Tony Stark can't even pretend he's a regular, boring old Joe?"
"This from the man whose official theme song was practically Wagner's 'Flight of the Valkyries'?"
If he were in the mood to be tickled by her whimsy – very apt whimsy – he'd find this conversation amusing. Instead he snipes back, "I prefer Holtz's 'Mars - God of War,'" and tries not be stung by the truth behind the words. Then he sighs because Pepper's face is open and free of condemnation. "You know, I doubt you grasp how jealous I could be of 'normal' people sometimes."
"No ego there, Stark..."
"This has nothing to do with my brain, Potts. Hell, it has nothing to do with my money."
"Does it have anything to do with not being able to follow the script?"
"It's about being known...or at least having it assumed that I'm known, by frickin' everbody."
"But you've never does anything to avoid the spotlight, Tony!" Pepper sounds...exasperated. Not upset with him, and not judgmental, but there's a good dose of "this is how it is" in her voice. "You couldn't even manage the secret identity part that's de rigueur for every other superhero."
"I never had the chance to. I've always been Tony Stark. I've never gotten to be just Tony." He shrugs. "I mean for god sakes I was six when I first landed in popular mechanics. Six. And it didn't stop there. Make a name for yourself or they'll make it for you. I learned that much early." He shrugs. "At least online if people decide I'm an ass its because they've actually interacted with me."
He knows that he's whining, hates that he's whining. But it doesn't make it any less true on some level. At least when he's Turbo on some level he's essentially unshackled. A person he wants to be.
A shameless flirt. A car lover. And apparently, a geek.
"That difference must be stunning." Pepper smiles and kicks him lightly under the table. "But seriously, Tony. You need to get out more. I don't care if you take to donning blond wigs and skulking around the corner Starbucks. I worry about you all alone up here in this house."
"I always thought I look better as a brunette actually."
"Tony..." Her tone holds the slightest bit of warning.
He holds his hands up in surrender. "Point taken. Would you go on and roll again already."
"Point taken or point disliked?" She picks up the dice and holds them in her hand. When Tony refrains from saying anything else she sighs and rolls the dice. "Just be careful about cyber sex...you put out and they lose all respect." The warning should be teasing; they sounds resigned. Not that she actually thinks he'd engage in cybersex - the man never did anything halfway. But she can tell a losing battle when she sees one.
If he were really upset, he'd shift headquarters to New York or something, rather than staying in what is arguably the paparazzi capital of the world.
He might be upset about something, and a lack of privacy or a surplus of notoriety might even have something to do with it. But there was a root cause here somewhere that he wasn't willing to discuss, even with her.
She rolls the dice and move. Community Chest. Yet again. Tony stares in disbelief. "Okay, I don't know how, but no way you're not cheating..."
"The word you're looking for, Stark, is 'lucky.'"
"Lucky. Really. You ought to tell me how I can...get lucky." This at least is firmer ground. Tony knows just how to flirt with Pepper in order to get her to splutter and blush.
She steadies herself with another sip of beer. "You just needs a good...chest..." She finally responds back.
'Well helloooooooooooooo, Fanny.'
Tony makes it his mission for the rest of the evening to get as many risqué comebacks as possible from his lovely assistant.
"'nother beer?" he asks as he gets to his feet.
"Okay, friends don't let friends drive drunk." Tony snatches the set of keys out of Pepper's hand – an action that only proves his suspicions to be true. Normally Pepper was too fast for him, her cat-like reflexes bred from years of dodging pawing hands. And no, they hadn't always been his own.
Ignoring her protests about propriety and appearances, he steers her out of the garage and towards the small elevator because he didn't really want to test her sobriety on the stairs.
"I am not drunk." Her words are just slightly slurred, "I am at the very worst mildy intoximicated..."
"Mmm-hmmm. I'm sure that excuse would fly with the police. So we'll spare them option. What I can't figure out is how I lost so badly to a lush." Tony has to steady Pepper as the elevator starts to move. The hand on his arm at first grips tightly, but has somehow turned to an absent minded caress by the time they reach the second floor.
"Mmm...anybody ever tell you that for a guy you have really nice skin?"
"Just the ones trying to get me into bed." And the irony here was that getting her into bed was his goal at the moment. Just without any company.
She snickers at that honesty. "Seriously…really nice tone. You must use a lot of extra lotion or something."
It's true...the shop tends to dry out his hands and arms, both from the chemicals and the heat of his soldering tools. He has to wash off grease and apply aloe-infused body butter with a fair amount of regularity. Not that he'd ever admit to wearing something called aloe infused body-butter.
"Gotta have smooth hands if you're going to glad hand anyone," he agrees smoothly as he escorts her out of the elevator. Her steps are more or less straight, and not the least bit wobbly even with her heels still on. It's a little scary really, because he's probably left this version of Pepper behind on numerous occasions at numerous parties for numerous other women.
"Okay, Ms. Potts. Here we are." Tony pauses outside the room Pepper uses on the infrequent occasions she does indeed need to stay over or change at his house for an event.
"Thanks for seeing me in, Mr. Stark. I had a lovely evening." The words are a mockery of what she might say to someone after a first date. Especially with the way her hand is still on his arm, still shifting back and forth in a maddening caress.
"Sleep well, Pep." The instinct to lean in and kiss her cheek is purely impulsive.
"You too." She doesn't move her feet, but somehow she's still much closer to him than she'd been just a moment before.
"What are you doing, Pepper?" Tony whispers, unable to look away from the eyes so close to his own. What she's doing is eviscerating him, because he wants this so much but not because her judgment might be impaired.
"I'm not sure," she admits.
He nods in response, and forces himself to step back. "Get some rest okay? We've both had a fair amount to drink."
He grins a little, "I'm declaring a rematch in the morning."
"Sure." She nods, though he can't tell if she's processing the words. Her eyes at least look as if the mind behind them is a million miles away. "Tony -"
"Pepper?" The hesitation costs him, but at least his reflexes don't fail him. He sees her coming, just like he's seen a thousand other women coming. And because she's more than a pair of legs he wants draped over his shoulders, he turns his face those few inches that are necessary to separate innocence and intimacy.
Her lips land on his cheek, and for the tiniest instant he think he hears her sigh. He certainly knows that he sighs, mostly because of how good she feels.
Before he can truly capture the moment and lock it away in his cerebral cortex, Pepper's gone. Her ponytail actually flicks against his neck before the door to her guest room closes firmly.
He stares at the door, wondering where this unfamiliar impulse to be...chivalric...has come from. If he had any sense, he'd knock on the door and give her another chance to make both of them very happy. To give them both the chance not to be alone tonight..
Problem is, he needs her to be around for a lot longer than a single night.
"Sleep well, Pepper," he repeats to the empty hallway.
Or perhaps not so empty. From behind the closed door he can hear a faint reply. "Sleep well, Mr. Stark."
There's no one around to see his bittersweet smile - so they're back to 'Mr. Stark,' huh? - but Tony allows it to spread across his face anyway.
Perhaps he's made a bit more progress with Pepper than he'd thought. That in itself is enough to make him start plotting his next story with careful deliberation.