Disclaimer: Most of the characters and situations in this story belong to Marvel Comics, Fairview Entertainment, Dark Blades Films, and other entities, and I do not have permission to borrow them. No infringement is intended in any way, and this story is not for profit. All others belong to me, particularly Cedric, and if you want to borrow them, you have to ask me first. Any errors are mine, all mine, no you can't have any.
Note: If you think you recognize the artist, you're probably right--and I expect at least one of you to know him. *grin* Yes, I know, but I don't think there's anyone left to mind if I borrow him for a little while.
Cincoflex is the best of betas and the best of friends. And special thanks to cluesby4 for her expertise--and her willingness to share it!
*******************
The mission had gone smoothly, for once. Tony let Jarvis handle the driving, tired and bruised but not really hurt, and used the return trip for thinking. Nick Fury had been pestering him again lately, showing up uninvited in Tony's New York penthouse during his last lightning trip to the East Coast, but Tony had turned him down cold. He found Fury's idea of a strike group intriguing, though he had no intention of admitting it to the man's face; but at the moment he had enough on his plate.
Maybe when I'm done cleaning up Stane's mess. It was easier to think of Obadiah by his last name, to relegate him coldly to the status of an enemy. Eventually, Tony knew, he was going to have to come to some kind of terms with the memory of his mentor-turned-killer, but he was still too angry.
He's dead, Tony reminded himself as Jarvis flew the suit over horizon-spanning expanses of cloud. Dead and gone. By Pepper's hand, at that, and if he still turned up in nightmares from time to time, Tony supposed it was natural.
"Your blood pressure is high," Jarvis commented coolly in Tony's ear. "Is something troubling you?"
Tony took a deep breath and let it out slowly, consciously relaxing. "Memories, Jarvis, that's all." He turned his head to take in the endless sea of sunlit cloud, mountain-tall peaks of brilliant white set off by the deep blue of the pure sky overhead. "Nice view."
"Aethereal," Jarvis agreed. "Ms. Potts has asked me to remind you that you do have a meeting with the SI legal team prior to your appearance before the Defense Appropriations Committee."
"Nggh." Briefly Tony considered pretending to be more injured than he was, just to get out of both, but gave it up. For one thing, Jarvis had undoubtedly already tattled to Pepper; for another, she'd just reschedule the whole thing anyway, and was probably ready to do so just in case he had been seriously hurt.
Sometimes her efficiency was a pain in the ass.
"Where is Pepper right now?" Normally she just called him when she wanted to harass him about something.
"She is currently on the set of Oprah. The taping began ten minutes ago."
"No kidding? Can you hack it?" Tony wasn't surprised that the talk show host had requested Pepper's appearance; his personal assistant had been on Oprah's show once before during a segment on career women, though the only reason Tony remembered it was because of the irrational annoyance that had seized him when his lover of the moment had made a disparaging comment about Pepper's interview.
His HUD flickered, and then began displaying the show in question. Oprah was laughing, presumably in response to something Pepper had just said; Pepper herself sat opposite, poised and relaxed, her business suit neat and trim and her heels delicate and high. She looked, Tony concluded, entirely edible.
"So, tell me what we're all wondering," Oprah continued, smiling. "How did this come about? Tony Stark's playboy reputation doesn't leave much room for serious relationships."
Pepper shrugged one shoulder, managing to look unconcerned. "It was entirely his idea," she said, her lips pursing in a small smile. "I was definitely surprised."
The audience laughed. Oprah leaned a little closer. "Was it romantic? Or more like a business proposition?"
"Definitely the latter," Pepper replied promptly, which brought more laughter, and a wince from Tony despite the fact that it was exactly what had happened. "But--" Her mouth softened. "Tony can be very romantic when he puts his mind to it."
The audience cooed. Tony grinned in the confines of the helmet, pleased. Between the flowers in her office, the chocolate and fruit he kept sending to her apartment, and the public kisses, he seemed to be succeeding.
"As you know, Pepper here was on our show a while back to discuss women in the workplace," Oprah said to her viewers. "Pepper, how has your engagement affected your working relationship with Tony?"
Pepper's long fingers tapped on her knee. "It hasn't really. Mr. Stark and I have been working together for quite a few years now, and our patterns are fairly established." She smiled again. "I still have to drag him out of his workshop on a regular basis, and he still makes me go to budget meetings as his proxy."
This won more laughter from the audience. Oprah smiled. "And do you plan to keep working after the wedding?"
"Certainly." Pepper smoothed the nap of her skirt and said nothing more, and after a moment Oprah continued, her voice dropping to a confidential level.
"Ladies have been dishing about Tony Stark for the last twenty years--the man's known for his, let me say, extravagance. Now that he's settling down, can you tell us--is he really all that?"
Pepper pinkened beautifully, glancing down. "All I'm going to say is that his reputation isn't exaggerated."
The audience whistled and cheered, and Oprah laughed again as the picture began to flicker. Then it dissolved into snow and disappeared.
"My apologies," Jarvis said. "I have lost the signal."
Tony shook his head, amused and annoyed both at the questions, and proud of Pepper for handling them so well. "I'm going to have to update your stealth routines."
"Ms. Potts was remarkable," Jarvis said. "All her replies were the strict truth, yet concealed the true circumstances perfectly."
That stung. Tony grimaced. "Yeah, well, Pepper's great at misdirection."
"When do you intend to reveal your intent concerning your engagement?" the AI asked in a tone of scientific curiosity.
"When did you--oh. Rhodey." Tony would have shrugged if the armor had permitted it. "I dunno. When the time's right, I guess."
The truth was, he had no idea when--or how--to tell Pepper that he really wanted to marry her, but improvisation was one of his strengths. "Consider that proprietary information, Jarvis. I don't want you blowing my cover."
"As you wish," Jarvis replied, and if there was an overlay of doubt in the AI's tone, Tony ignored it. "Are you aware that you and Ms. Potts were mentioned on last night's Entertainment Tonight?"
Tony snickered. "Since when do you watch gossip TV, Jarvis?"
"Since Ms. Potts asked me to monitor news concerning yourself--approximately six-point-three-three years."
"Huh." Tony blinked. He knew he was fodder for the news services at any time, but he hadn't been aware that Pepper had recruited Jarvis to help her wrangle them. "So?"
His HUD came to life again, a standard shot of himself striding from limo to building, Pepper on his arm. Tony didn't recognize the clip specifically. A woman's voice cut in. "--And rumor has it that Pepper Potts isn't really Stark's fiancée at all. Sources say she's being paid a huge bonus to act the part so as to reassure the public of Tony's sanity."
The clip ended and was replaced by a still photo taken during his first press conference on his return from Afghanistan, one that showed his injuries to best advantage. "Given that many also claim that Tony's personal assistant is a lesbian, there may be more to this than meets the eye. In any case, it's said that the entire thing was the idea of the SI board of directors. Observers expect a blowup soon. In other news--"
"Off," Tony ordered, more than annoyed. He knew better than to take the innuendo seriously, but the implication that Pepper would lend herself to that kind of scheme made him angry. "Does Pepper know about this yet?"
"I included the clip in her morning report. She viewed it at 7:21 a.m."
Tony's mouth twisted as he thought. "Jarvis...what's our ETA?"
"Ninety minutes. You will return home before Ms. Potts does."
"Good." Normally Tony preferred to see her waiting for him after a mission, but he had a plan. "I need to make a phone call."
The music surrounded him, thrummed through him like a living pulse, let his mind flow faster through the intricacies of his latest idea. It was as much a tool as any of the devices scattered around his workshop, and it never failed to jar him when it stopped mid-phrase. As it just had.
"Don't turn off my music," Tony said automatically, not even bothering to look over his shoulder at Pepper. She never obeyed, but it was part of the ritual nonetheless.
"Tony." The wrath in her tone brought his head up. Tony ran down a quick list of his recent activities, but nothing stood out as being outrageous enough to anger her. Pasting an innocent look on his face, he turned.
"Something wrong?"
Judging from the flash of her eyes, there most definitely was. "Care to explain the alteration to my schedule?" She waved the BlackBerry she was holding.
Oh. "Pepper, I've been up for at least thirty-six hours, you're going to have to be more specific." Actually, Tony knew exactly what she was talking about, but it was a poor day when he couldn't yank her chain a little.
She huffed. "I'm scheduled for a sitting this afternoon. For the painting I didn't agree to do."
"You didn't disagree either." Tony smirked at her.
"I don't have time for this--" she began, and he reached out and caught her hand, ignoring the grease he was transferring to her skin.
"Yes you do, that's why I had Jarvis handle the scheduling. Pepper, look. Tierney really wants to do this, and he even agreed to come here to do it, which is pretty much unprecedented. Adding that item to the next press release will give us extra credit, because trust me, there are members of the Fourth Estate that will remember that he did Mom's portrait." He squeezed her fingers, which she was trying feebly to pull free. "In fact, it's probably the best thing we could do to demonstrate that we're serious."
He winked. "Besides you moving in with me, that is."
Pepper made an exasperated noise. "I'm not sure this is necessary." She pulled harder, but Tony didn't relinquish his grip, instead nudging the ring with his thumb. It fascinated him, he had to admit, the wide circlet that signified his claim on her, however spurious it actually was. It was atavistic of him, but he liked seeing a mark of possession on her. And it's not like she doesn't already own me.
Whether she knew it or not, Pepper had laid her stamp on him, and he didn't want to lift it.
"I think it is." He cocked a brow. "Remember that Entertainment Tonight soundbite?"
Pepper grimaced with reluctant distaste; she hated the gossip shows despite her skill at making use of them. "It's just one..."
"And these things spread, you know that." He reached for a rag with his free hand, and loosened his grip enough to dab at the smudges on hers. "Look at it this way, it's easy and doesn't involve me groping you in public."
She blushed, and took the rag. "You'll never get it off like that." Jerking her hand free, she wiped the grease away. "All right. Though what you're going to do with another portrait--I guess there's room in storage."
Or in my bedroom. Tony let his victory stand, satisfied. "If you like it, Pepper, you can keep it. Think of it as an investment if you want." He took the rag back.
Pepper looked down at him, her mouth softening into an expression that almost seemed wistful. "Tony..."
He raised his brows encouragingly, but she only shook her head and turned back towards the stairs. Tony watched her step out through the door, and opened his mouth, but before he could order Jarvis to restart the music, Pepper tapped the lock panel and it blared out again.
He grinned, and turned back to his work.
Three hours later Jarvis alerted him to the limo approaching the mansion, and Tony scrubbed up hastily before jogging upstairs. He'd sent Happy to fetch Tierney, wanting to give the old man every courtesy; he respected Tierney's talent, and besides that was grateful for the glimpse of his mother in her youth.
Hogan gave the little man a discreet arm to help him up the stairs to the door; Tierney was fragile with age, bony and slightly stooped, but his eyes were bright and clear and his hands steady. He peered up at Tony with a dry smile. "Anthony, you're looking well."
Tony reflected wryly that Tierney was about the only person who could get away with calling him that--not even Pepper dared. "Allan, it's good to see you again." He shook the long-fingered hand extended towards him. "Come on in."
He led Tierney inside, leaving the door open so that Hogan could bring Tierney's supplies in from the trunk. Pepper was waiting in the living room, and whatever residual annoyance she might have felt towards Tony was nowhere in evidence as she came forward to greet the artist. "This is my fiancée, Virginia," Tony said with genuine pride. "Pepper, Allan Tierney."
The old man's face lit at the sight of her, and Tony smothered a grin. Tierney had made his reputation on his paintings of beautiful women, and obviously Pepper met his standards. "It's an honor, Mr. Tierney," Pepper said softly, letting him envelop her hand in both of his.
"My dear, I am so glad to meet you." Tierney beamed. "Anthony's taste is as impeccable as his father's."
Pepper blinked, but her smile didn't waver. Hogan appeared with the equipment, a case in one hand and a canvas in the other, the folded easel under one muscled arm.
"Where do you want to set up, Allan?" Tony asked.
"I need southern exposure," Tierney said, still holding Pepper's hand. "Yes, sunlight will be best."
Pepper glanced over at Tony, who nodded. "The white guest room," he said. "This way."
He led the small cavalcade to the little-used room, listening to Tierney politely refuse Pepper's offer of refreshment. She would do just fine, Tony knew; her innate graciousness was an asset, and he judged that Tierney was half in love with her already. I'd be jealous if I didn't know better.
Tierney's love of beauty was what had drawn him to painting in the first place; he adored the women he chose to paint with the pure passion of an aesthete, free of lust or yearning. It was part of what made his work so compelling.
Tierney nodded in approval when they reached the room, which held a bed, a dresser, and an armchair. They were clean and dust-free, but Tony didn't think the room had actually been used in over a year. The wide windows, though, filled the room with light. "Yes, yes, this will work," he said, and at Tony's nod Hogan set down his burdens and melted away.
"I'll leave you to it," Tony said cheerfully, and did so, knowing that Pepper and Tierney were both in each other's good hands. Besides, he preferred to leave rather than being chased out; the old man never let anyone watch him paint. Pepper already looked interested in the process, and that pleased Tony. She's always looking to learn.
And she was sharp. Sooner or later, he knew, Pepper was going to ask him how he knew so much about Tierney when the portrait of Maria Stark had been painted before Tony was born. Resigned, he headed for the elevator to fetch his answer.
The sub-basement of the mansion was set up for storage--it had temperature and humidity controls, and was quite a bit larger than might be expected even for a billionaire's home. But then, Tony thought as he walked down the main corridor, even other billionaires didn't quite have the collection of stuff that he possessed. Artwork and records, to be sure, along with antiques, but there were also engines, plane parts, a couple of vintage motorcycles, and various inventions--some dating from his father's day.
That was also part of the reason for the triple security of the house. Items that one of the members of the Manhattan Project had worked on--even discarded ones--could not be trusted to an ordinary storage facility or the dispassionate care of Stark Industries. The sub-basement was hard to get into--and first one had to know it was there. Tony wasn't sure that even Obadiah had known of its existence.
Pepper knew, of course, he mused as he unlocked one door. She was the executor of his will and the one person he trusted absolutely. And Rhodey knew the codes, though he'd never actually entered the place. If we all buy it at once, though, it'll be up to Jarvis to decide who gets in. And given how he'd programmed his AI, Jarvis was more likely to seal the doors forever than to let anyone enter.
That suited Tony just fine.
The overhead light came on automatically as the door opened, and Tony stepped inside the storage room. The cases that held the various paintings stored there had been designed not by his father, but by his mother, who had possessed a strong appreciation for art, though her tastes did not match those of her son. Tony wasn't exactly sure what some of the cases held--though no doubt Pepper could call up an inventory for him at a moment's notice--but he did remember where his goal was, because he'd put it there.
Tony found the case, lifting it out of its rack and laying it on the stand built for just that purpose. He opened it, and looked down at himself.
He hadn't even known who Tierney was when the old man had called him, a month before his twenty-first birthday. And Tony hadn't been inclined to listen to him, either, but Obadiah had talked him into the portrait that Tierney had promised Howard Stark years before.
The young man in the picture stood in front of a background as stormy gray as his mother's was velvety crimson. He had his hands in his suit pockets, deliberately casual, but his posture bespoke tension, movement held in check. His face was smooth, bony even--still hinting at childhood behind the faint smile.
It was undeniably Tony, but a different Tony--not just younger, but harder. It was odd to think of it that way, Tony thought, but it was true; there was arrogance there, confidence in his own power, but...it took him a moment to figure it out. I refused to admit there was such a thing as suffering.
He'd known pain by then, to be sure; his parents' sudden death had shattered something in him that had never quite healed completely. But the--the kid, Tony admitted ruefully--in the painting hadn't let anything touch him. He was carefully shielded against whatever life might throw at him, armored with money and power and his own hard shell, despite the gleam in his eyes.
The portrait had hung in the main boardroom in Stark Industries' headquarters for four years, Tony recalled, opposite that of his father, though the picture of Howard had been done by a different artist. Tony had removed both in a fit of petulance one day, and Obadiah had claimed Howard's portrait and hung it in his own office. It was currently in company storage with the rest of the furnishings from that room.
His own image, however, Tony had brought home and put away, and as far as he knew Pepper had never seen it--he'd taken it down before she'd been hired.
Bemused, he lifted it from its case and took it upstairs to his workshop, knowing that Jarvis would lock the doors behind him. Tony propped the painting against one wall, and promptly forgot about it as he began dismantling the engine of his latest vehicular acquisition.
The sudden cessation of his music made Tony look up again. Pepper was stepping through the door, a tray in one hand, and judging from her expression she was no longer pissed, for which he was grateful. Tony set down a wrench. "How'd it go?"
"Pretty well. I think." Pepper set down the tray. "Mr. Tierney seemed pleased, anyway." She put one hand on her hip and regarded him. "You didn't eat lunch, so come have supper."
His stomach was growling. Tony pushed to his feet and sniffed; chicken noodle soup, it smelled like. "Did you eat?"
"I had a late lunch." Pepper watched him approach the table where she'd put the food, probably to make sure he actually sat down and started eating. Tony complied; Pepper made a mean soup. "He wants a sitting every day for at least two weeks. I told him I'd try."
"Mmm," Tony said, his mouth full with his first spoonful. He swallowed. "Talked you into it, didn't he?"
Pepper sniffed, but her lips curled up. "He's very charming, in his own way."
Tony nodded, and kept eating. Pepper drifted across the shop, idly examining his latest efforts, and Tony concentrated on the food. He really was hungry. When's the last time I ate?
He'd just figured out that it had been dinner the night before when he saw Pepper crouching down to look at the portrait he'd forgotten. Tony stopped mid-chew, then continued, wondering what she saw in his post-adolescent face.
Pepper glanced back over her shoulder. "May I?" she asked, and Tony shrugged acquiescently. She picked up the canvas and straightened, turning so that the light fell fully onto the image.
She looked at it for a long time before setting it back down where she'd found it. Tony took a swallow of water and watched her as she came back over to where he sat. When she said nothing, he raised his brows in inquiry.
"It's good," she said thoughtfully. "He really caught the humor in you."
Tony blinked. Humor? He hadn't seen that at all.
"You look so young," Pepper went on, then blushed. "I mean--"
"I do, yeah," Tony broke in, grinning a little. "I'm trying to remember how he got me to hold still long enough to finish the thing."
That made her chuckle. "Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like to have known you then," she said whimsically. "But I don't think we would have gotten along."
Tony regarded her, intrigued by the concept. I have no idea what she was like at that age. He wanted to think he would have admired her then as now, but he was ruefully aware that at age twenty-one his main interest in any female around his age was pretty much limited to whether she was hot. "How old would you have been? Seventeen?"
"Something like that, yeah." She shrugged. "I was busy with my senior year and working two jobs."
His mental picture rearranged itself to a slender girl busy with books and trays, hair pulled up in a messy bun, big eyes shy. Setting down his spoon, he slid off his stool and went over to the painting, picking it up in turn and regarding it. "I was a prick," he said truthfully.
"You were, what, twenty? Twenty-one?" Pepper said, following to look over his shoulder. "You were hardly more than a kid, and your parents were gone. It was kind of natural, Tony."
The feel of her just behind him set all his nerves alert. "Maybe."
She laughed, and her breath brushed his ear and made his skin prickle delightfully. "I was no prize at that age either. It takes time to grow up and learn grace."
"I can't imagine you as anything but graceful." Tony set the painting back down but kept his eyes on it, afraid she would move away if he turned.
"Not the same thing. And as a matter of fact, I was a terribly clumsy kid. It took me years to grow into my legs."
Pepper was still there, and Tony turned just his head, so he could see her as well. "Yeah? I'll bet you were cute, though." He tried to imagine that too, the long-limbed girl-child with strawberry hair, tackling the world with her brains and her courage.
She was smiling, as if at a happy memory. "I had my moments."
That did it. Tony pivoted, catching her gaze with his, and just like that the tension was back, singing in the narrow space between them. Pepper's smile faded and her lips parted, and Tony inhaled, savoring the scent of her that filled the gap, not letting her eyes move from his. He held on with all his will, leaning forward, this time he was going to make the connection and--
Pepper blinked, and stepped back. "I need to get back to work," she said, her voice tight. Tony rocked slightly with her sudden turn, all his senses reaching out for the woman now making her hasty way towards the stairs. Disappointed arousal cramped his breathing for a moment, but Tony was nothing if not a fast thinker. By the time she was opening the door, he was heading back to his interrupted meal.
"Were you a waitress during college?" he called after her, as casually as he could manage, as he resumed his seat. "Because I can just picture you all dolled up in a frilly apron."
Pepper glanced back, and the embarrassment on her face faded, replaced with mischief. "Not exactly." She slipped through the doorway, pausing just long enough to speak once more. "I was a model."
Tony froze, soup spoon halfway to his mouth as she disappeared up the stairs. His brain was suddenly running in high gear, tumbling over a thousand imaginings of Pepper stalking down a catwalk, posing for photos, seducing the camera--is that where she learned to walk in those heels?
It took him a few minutes to break the spell she'd laid on him. He cleared his throat. "Jarvis, run a search for any available photos of Ms. Virginia Potts. Advertisements, head shots, anything."
"Actually, sir, Pepper has authorized you to access her personal photo file." The big screen on the wall beyond his workbench lit up. "To, and I quote, 'save me time since I know you won't leave me alone until you see them'."
"She knows me," Tony commented under his breath, then raised his voice. "Let's see them, Jarvis."
A file icon appeared on the screen. "In what order?" the AI inquired. "By agency?"
"Chronologically, oldest first," Tony instructed. He pushed the soup bowl absently aside and leaned forward.
The picture that flashed up on the screen didn't exactly kill his lust, but it did throttle it back, because the girl smiling back at him couldn't be more than fifteen years old. It was the kind of image found in department store catalogs, a tall teen in jeans and a winter coat, her red-blonde hair in two braids. She looked impossibly young and even more innocent than Pepper usually managed, despite her bright blank grin.
Tony stared at her. The image was making a lump rise in his throat, and he didn't know why. He cleared it with a short cough. "Next picture, Jarvis."
There were a dozen more in the same vein, all winter clothing for teen girls. Tony told Jarvis to transfer control to the keyboard under his soup bowl, and clicked through each one, studying them, looking for some hint of the Pepper he knew. But the traces were scant; she might have been a cardboard cutout, presenting the same untouched glossiness in every shot.
The next photos were a little older and a lot more sophisticated. They were all close shots, selling cosmetics; Tony barely noticed the occasional brand logo, too taken up with Pepper's features so dramatically highlighted in the flashier styles of the time. She normally wore very little makeup, which made the contrast all the sharper, and Tony zoomed in on exaggeratedly fringed eyes and lids blotted with a rainbow of colors and tried again to find her.
There were hints in the curve of her lips, the tilt of her head as she regarded the camera. A bit of secret humor, a touch of the searching look that he saw more often these days--all combined with a blatant commercial seduction meant to sell whatever she was wearing. Tony had dated many models, and he was familiar with how they could put up a professional mask without a moment's thought. Until now, he'd never bothered to try to look beneath.
Past the makeup ads, though, were more clothes, and this time he pegged her age at twenty at least. She was taller, cooler, more confident, obviously practiced in the smoky glance and sauntering stride of the living mannequin. This was an adult, and Tony's libido stirred again as she showed off dresses and blouses, skirts and jeans so tight they should have been illegal. Even when her hair abruptly became a sleek short cap of shimmering red, his attention didn't waver. If there's a lingerie series in here--
But the next set made him blink, because they were mostly of her feet. "Huh," Tony said softly, watching her ankles and toes showcase high heels of almost every description. She comes by her fondness honestly.
The shoes ran out, and that was all. Tony propped his chin in his hand and paged slowly back through, watching Pepper grow younger, thinking. I figured she was uncomfortable with Vee's shoot because she wasn't used to it. After all, Pepper usually managed to avoid the cameras that were trained on him every week, and even when they caught her she was almost always in the background. But if she did all this, then...
...Then she must have another reason.
Tony pursed his lips, considering. Remembering. When he'd looked at the proofs, he'd seen more than he'd expected to in his own face. Is the same true for her?
Had Pepper feared what the camera might reveal?
It was an idea worth considering. Tony tapped the keyboard one more time. "Jarvis, copy all to my private server, folder name Pepper Two."
There was already a Pepper One folder, storing a handful of e-mails and other messages that for one reason or another had amused Tony enough for him to keep them. However, Tony figured that some of Two would be worth looking over again. In private. Lack of lingerie notwithstanding.
He regarded the blank screen for a moment. "Run that search," he said finally. "Check for anything in the SI files as well. Dump them all in the folder and I'll look at them later."
"Very good, sir," Jarvis replied. "Shall I inform Pepper of your new trend towards voyeurism?"
Tony let the corner of his mouth twitch up wryly. "Smartass."
Odds are she knew I'd do it anyway.