When Iron Man 2 hit theaters, I wasn't entirely satisfied. I liked the movie a lot, but I felt that many of the topics were covered only superficially and so much more could have been made of it. So at the time I thought I'd just make my own part 2 with the things I would have liked to have seen, which includes Tony Stark's alcohol addiction.

I found it sad that Marvel didn't pick up on that in the movies, since it's actually a core issue in the comics (even though on the other hand, I can understand why they didn't. But I would have so loved to see RDJ perform that). Therefore, as the title suggests, this is a variant of the Demon in a Bottle story that has nothing to do with the comic in terms of content but borrows the topic of alcoholism and Tony's path to addiction.

Since English is not my first language, I hope it's good enough. I did my best and I hope you have fun. I can already promise that this will be quite a long story.

Reviews are very welcome.

Iron Man: Demon in a bottle

Chapter 1

„I'm sorry, but I think it's better for you to stop now, Sir."

„I guess that's my decision."

„No. You've had enough."

Tony Stark gave the barkeeper a withering look and pointed at his empty glass of whiskey.

„Do you think I'd pour myself another one if I were at home now?" he asked, the words heavily slurring.

„I don't know, Sir", the barkeeper replied visibly bored, while drying a couple of glasses with a dirty rag.

„Then let me tell you," Tony mumbled with a raised finger. He narrowed his eyes to slits to get his opponent sharp to some extent. „I. would. Do. It."

„Hm. But I think you're drunk enough."

„Enough?", Tony shouted indignantly. „You call that enough?" He pointed a bit uncoordinated at himself.

The barman didn't answer. He looked at Tony with an unimpressed expression.

„Do you even know who I am?!"

„Of course, Sir. You are Tony Stark."

„And Iron Man! Which means I drink for two! So would you kindly pour me another drink?!"

Tony shoved his glass forward. The barkeeper looked at him undecided for a moment, then refilled the glass with whiskey. „The last one, Mr. Stark."

„Thanks", Tony said satisfied, sipping from the scotch.

It was almost five in the morning and beside two young men, there was no one left in the bar.

Happy Hogan was already on his way to pick Tony up. But he wasn't going to miss that delicious last drink. Tony felt the urgent need to call Pepper, but she was a little bit on the outs with him since he had announced he was Iron Man in public.

It had been four months since then. Four months in which many people had camped in front of his house and put up signs with "I LOVE IRON MAN!" all over his lawn. He had had to hire extra security to keep them away from the house. People had even been following him around every time he had left the house. Gradually the siege had lessened, though. Tony had to admit he had enjoyed it – Pepper, on the other hand, had been anything but thrilled. She had more workload than ever before – if that was even possible.

Tony emptied his glass in one go und watched the bartender ask the two men to leave because he was closing up. Had it been the right decision to say the words that got so famous in the meantime?

The truth is… I am Iron Man.

It had changed so much. Too much… The way people looked at him. Expectant, demanding. He didn't know how to deal with it. With the pressure and the expectations on him. And… it had changed the way Pepper was looking at him. Tony couldn't bring this thought to an end, because Happy, neatly dressed in suit, entered the bar, and walked towards him.

"Good morning, Mr. Stark", he said tired.

"Mornin', Happy." Tony stood up, but was so drunk he only didn't fall because Happy reached out for him so quick-witted.

"I told you to quit three drinks ago", the bartender said by passing them on his way back to the bar.

Ignoring the remark, Tony held onto the barstool. Yes, he had definitely underestimated his alcohol level. He barely managed to stand upright.

"Sir?" Happy asked concerned. "Are you alright?"

"Course I am."

Happy Hogan supported Tony on his way to the car. Truly, it was nothing unusual having to pick up his boss drunk from some club or some bar or some party or some restaurant or even from places where you had to wonder where you got alcohol there. It had always been that way. Ever since he had been hired and, as he heard, even before.

Happy was kind of Stark's girl for everything, so to speak. He was his personal chauffeur and bodyguard, and part from that, he also had a friendly relationship with his boss. Sometimes they simply sat in one of Tony's cars and drove around, just talking and enjoying the speed or they were checking out girls at a party and making fun of people who were trying to be smarter than Tony. All in all, he loved his job, not to mention the generously payment he was receiving, so it was easy to deal with terms of more unpleasant things.

Happy made sure Tony was managing to get into the back seat of the car, before taking his seat at the wheel. He didn't say anything, when Tony didn't fasten his seat belt; the black Rolls Royce Phantom VII has just been cleaned and he didn't want to take the risk of a seat belt hindering Tony to get quickly out of the car in case of sudden nausea. To not overwhelm Tony's stomach, Happy was driving slowly and carefully.

Tony indeed felt a bit sick; he leaned his head backwards and had already loosened his tie. He couldn't tell how many whiskies he had downed. But it didn't matter anyway. All he wanted was that numb feeling, that feeling that he didn't have to do anything and didn't have to care about anything. He was aware of Happy repeatedly watching him through the rearview mirror, but he didn't care for that either. All he needed was sleep. Just sleep.

Tony didn't realize he was home until Happy was next to him in the back seat, reaching out to him. Happy then helped him to his bedroom. He took off Tony's shoes, before closing the door quietly behind him.

Virginia Pepper Potts looked at her watch with growing impatience. Ten minutes past eleven. Tony was late. Not that she was surprised. Quite the contrary, it was so well known that businesspeople mostly decided to be late as well. She got angry about this fact as she was always too early, she just couldn't help it.

Pepper sighed and searched for her phone in her purse. Tony was probably working in the workshop for hours not watching the time or he was still in bed, and she'd have to try a few times before he finally answered. He used to stay up very long at night lately. In fact, she wasn't successful until her third try. She knew him too well.

"Tony?"

She got nothing in reply except an obviously hungover croak. Ah, so this version today.

"Meeting, 11 a.m., Tony," she said in a snappy tone. "What time do you think it is?"

"…think it is…", Tony repeated slowly with a rough voice.

"Jesus!" Pepper exclaimed. "Get the hell over here!"

"Where is 'here'?"

"The Fortune Palace. Malibu. As I already told you yesterday."

"I don't think I can make it."

"I'm sure you can!" Pepper said sharply, looking around for possibly emerging business partners.

"I don't feel well, Pepper…"

"I don't care!"

There was a brief pause.

"All right then. Give me an hour."

"Are you out of your mi –"

"Just kidding, Pep. I'll get to you as soon as possible."

Pepper ended the call and frowned. This was so typical for him…

Tony lay in bed, trying to ignore the nausea and the headache. The meeting. He had completely forgotten about that. Forgotten? Had he even known about it? Very slowly, he straightened up.

"Good morning, Sir," the computer voice of Jarvis sounded through the room.

"Please spare me your mirth," Tony responded annoyed. What did Jarvis know about emotions, especially a hangover?

"I must say you are looking mighty fine today, Mr. Stark."

"Are you talking to me?" Tony asked, while getting out of bed. "What did I do wrong to make you so sassy? Save your sarcasm and tell Happy I have to go to this stupid meeting."

"Mr. Hogan is already waiting outside, Sir, as he knows better about your appointments than you do."

As fast as he could, Tony showered and slipped into a fresh suit. Then he stepped outside into the bright sunshine, immediately put on a pair of mirrored sunglasses, and got into the waiting car.

"Good Morning," Happy greeted him from the driver's seat.

Tony just sighed and his driver instantly understood: Don't talk to me.

At a quarter to twelve, Tony arrived at the restaurant to find an angry Pepper and three well-dressed men. Shit, he thought, what was this meeting all about? He waved his assistant over and gave the men a wide smile.

"Wow, that was fast," Pepper said sarcastically while taking off his sunglasses.

"Hey!" he protested, blinking, but Pepper's angry expression silenced him. "So… what do they want, again?"

"Are you serious?" Pepper asked, stunned.

"What if I say yes?" Tony said carefully.

"The new concept of Stark Industries? Energy technologies? New contract partners? Interested in investments? Does that ring a bell?"

"Well… not exactly…"

Pepper sighed and pushed Tony toward the waiting men.

"Hold on, hold on, ok?" Tony said. "We haven't worked out a new concept yet."

"You haven't done that yet, right."

After two hours the meeting was over – successfully. Tony leaned back and ordered champagne while the businessmen said goodbye with a satisfied expression. He simply had told them what they wanted to hear, the best method to close a deal for something that didn't yet exist.

"I hope that's all for today," Tony said, toasting Pepper, who didn't touch her glass, but clearly seemed a little more relaxed.

"Your plane for France leaves in an hour."

Tony looked at her outraged.

"No, not really," Pepper smiled.

"Uh, wait a minute," Tony laughed. "Did you just try to make a joke?"

"Pathetic, wasn't it?"

"It… wasn't that bad."

"Hm."

The two stared at each other for a moment. Once again, it struck Tony how attractive he found this woman. And how much she meant to him. Especially since his return from Afghanistan, the incident with Obadiah, and since she knew about his (now no longer secret) second identity. Pepper was always by his side and already had been for years. Tony couldn't say there were many people who met that criterion.

"You look very beautiful today, Pepper," Tony said with a charming smile.

"Um, thanks, Tony."

Pepper looked away a bit embarrassed, which in turn made Tony uncomfortable, and also made him hide behind his sunglasses again. There was an awkward silence, so awkward Tony downed his glass of champagne and immediately refilled it. Finally, Pepper cleared her throat.

"So… We're having the annual company party the day after tomorrow. In case you forgot."

"No, I didn't," Tony said, gratefully taking up the subject. "How many have accepted the invitation?"

"Too many." Pepper was anything but delighted.

"You'll come to the party, right?", Tony asked, therefore.

"Of course. Someone has to make sure the party won't escalate."

Tony had to grin involuntarily. All his parties – and even if it was just a company party – were something, people didn't forget... or they did, depending on how much they drank, and that was probably the only thing you could really count on at his parties.

A little later, Tony and Pepper had Happy drive them back to his house.

"I'm going to answer a few more emails," Pepper said, sitting down on her favorite spot on the couch in the living room.

"Ok."

Tony directly made his way to the bedroom, closed the door behind him, and then sank down against it until he was sitting on the floor. He felt his heart beating hard and way too fast in his chest. How many times they asked me about Obadiah, he thought with trembling hands. And all the things they wanted to know about my captivity in Afghanistan... What did it have to do with Stark Industries' future plans what had happened a few months ago? What an impertinence of this men to ask him about something like that in the middle of a business lunch. They couldn't possibly be taught any kind of decency. Tony leaned the back of his head against the door, staring at the ceiling above him, trying to calm himself. He felt terrible.