Fandom:
Iron Man (movieverse)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Tony/Pepper
Summary: Tony takes advantage of serendipity.
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.
Yeah, cliché number two. But honestly I couldn't resist.
This story would in no way exist without the assistance, beta
efforts, and support of Cincoflex,
who is the best friend anyone could ask for. She also came up
with several of the concepts and phrases in this story, in the first
chapter especially, and has graciously given permission for their use
here.
And she did the banner! *grin* Ain't it pretty?
*********
Their footsteps echoed in the marble lobby of the big bank,
just like everyone else’s, but unlike most of the customers Tony
never bothered to keep his voice down. His ego liked watching
people turn around to see who was disturbing the hush, just as the
small wicked part of him liked to see Pepper’s near-invisible
wince as his words bounced off the ceiling. The bank manager,
however, never even blinked as Tony held out a hand and spoke.
“Gregory, good to see you.”
“Mr. Stark.” Ndibe gave him a wide smile and returned
his grip without hesitation, then shook Pepper’s hand as
well. “It’s always a pleasure to have you
here.” With practiced ease, Ndibe swept them off the main
floor and into his office. “How are you, sir?”
They exchanged pleasantries for a moment, Pepper smiling genuinely at
Ndibe’s gentle compliments. Tony kept his smirk to
himself. Normally he didn’t like people flirting with his
assistant, but Ndibe was married, and Pepper had admitted more than
once that she loved the man’s melodious accent. Tony liked
to see her relax on occasion, though it didn’t alter his plans to
tease her about Ndibe’s “crush” later.
“Ms. Potts says that you are here to see your safe-deposit
box,” the bank manager said at last, after coffee had been
offered and politely declined. “Shall I have it brought
here?”
“Nah, that’s okay.” Tony waved a hand and rose
from the seat to which he’d been shown. “Just give us
one of the rooms. I don’t think we’ll be too
long.”
“Of course.” Ndibe escorted them to the row of tiny
rooms used by customers who wanted to examine the contents of their
safe-deposit boxes in privacy, and as they entered another bank
employee followed them in with the long, heavy box. The woman set
it down on the table and she and Ndibe withdrew. It was all very
efficient, but Tony expected no less; Pepper had, after all,
called ahead. And while Stark patronship was enough to get
excellent service anywhere, Tony suspected that Ndibe would have done
much the same for any customer important enough to warrant his personal
attention.
“Okay, what have we got in here?” Tony asked, flipping open
the lid of the box. Beside him, Pepper riffled through a handful
of papers.
“Birth and death certificates, various securities dating from the
1960s, ditto some savings bonds, your great-aunt’s collection of
silver spoons, and your parents’ jewelry.” She
consulted one. “It doesn’t look like the box has been
opened since they died.”
Tony hid a small pang. “I did stop by right after their
deaths, but I think you’re right.” He started lifting
out the velvet boxes and bags inside, laying them out on the
table. He actually possessed several safe-deposit boxes in
several locations, but most of them held less personal assets, or
things like backup copies of Jarvis’ basic coding and plans for
various inventions. This one, however, had really been his
parents’.
It wasn’t quite impulse that had led him back to it; Pepper had
been going through an old box out of the storage sub-basement and had
turned up a photo of his father consulting the pocket watch that had
lived in his vest pocket. Tony’s conscious mind had all but
forgotten about that watch, but the sight of it had brought back
memories of how it had fascinated him as a small child; the solid
weight of it, the intricately engraved lid, the rich tick of the works
and the delicate pointed hands making the rounds of the face. To
him it had been an icon of manhood, one of the treasures that only
grown-ups could have--and something that would be his own someday, his
father had promised with a fond smile.
But by the time Howard Stark had died, Tony’s focus had moved to
electronics rather than simple gears, and in the initial rush of
disbelieving, furious grief he had locked away all the reminders.
There were more items in the house safe, but these were the most
valuable and some of the oldest.
And the sight of that photo had stirred Tony to hunt up the watch, to
feel its cool roundness in his hands again and remember.
He set aside the flat case that held the spoons and finally reached the
smaller box that he remembered. As he picked it up, he was aware
that Pepper had opened the spoon case and was murmuring in
appreciation, but his attention was on what he held.
The box creaked open, and there it was, gleaming gold. Tony
lifted it carefully out, the long chain trailing after, and with a
press of his thumb sprang the carved lid open. It was just as he
remembered--narrow black Roman numerals against a background of creamy
white, the slender hands frozen at 2:38; the tiny scratch along the
edge of the crystal that Howard Stark had refused to have fixed,
because--he claimed--it came from dropping the watch out of sheer
surprise when his wife had first told him she was pregnant.
Tony ran his thumb slowly around the curve of the casing, remembering
not so much incidents as feelings--the absolute security of his
childhood, the tall powerful presence that was his father and the
energy and safety that was his mother.
“Does it still work?” Pepper’s soft question
pulled him from reverie, and Tony snapped the lid shut.
“Probably, it wasn’t damaged in the crash. I think
I’ll take it to a jeweler first, though.” Come to
think of it, he could probably fix it himself if it were
broken, but somehow he felt that the watch deserved the attention of an
expert in the craft. On impulse, he turned it over in his
palm. “Check this out.”
“Hm?” Pepper stepped closer as Tony tried to open the
back of the watch, but his nails were too short to pry open the
lid. Grumbling, he reached for his pocketknife, but cool fingers
suddenly covered his.
“Here, let me.” Pepper took the watch carefully, and
slipped one nail under the catch. With a tiny pop, it opened a
fraction, and she handed it back.
Tony lifted the thin lid. Instead of a window to the works, the
back was plain unadorned gold, but between the lid and the base was a
scrap of paper, an old and faded photo. His mother’s face,
young, smiling, looked up at him from a cloud of dark hair, and slowly
Tony smiled back.
“Dad always kept this in here.” His voice was
soft. “I think it was from before they were
married.”
Next to him, Pepper sighed, a wistful sound. “She was beautiful.”
Tony nodded. “She was.” He snapped the lid shut
and put the watch back into its box, then slipped the box into his
jacket pocket. “Take it off the list of contents.
What else do we have here?”
Some of the jewelry he remembered, some he did not; there were
bracelets and necklaces from his mother, cufflinks that had belonged to
his dad. Some of the pieces were considerably older than his
parents. One small plush box held their wedding rings, and Tony
looked down at them thoughtfully for a long time before closing it and
setting it aside.
He’d refused to think about his parents for so long; not until a
gentle question in a firelit prison had he finally chosen to remember
them, looking back at last with the eyes of an adult. At this end
of history he didn’t really know what kind of a marriage they had
had, but he did know that they had loved each other. There were
enough memories of kisses and laughter, embraces and teasing arguments,
and just the simple solid security of a childhood that had known no
uncertainty.
He glanced up at Pepper. She was going through the items with
careful precision, making notes on the inventory list, smiling now and
then over a particular piece that pleased her eye. She never wore
much jewelry to work, though he’d seen her wear the occasional
elegant necklace or bracelet when a function called for it. Tony
suspected she spent her money on shoes instead.
Family. Love. Intimacy. Yinsen had made him very
aware of what was lacking in his life--made him admit to himself that
he missed them. Life had been so hectic since he’d gotten
back that Tony hadn’t had much time to think about those lacks,
but some things had become more clear nonetheless.
And some had remained so. Like red eyes in a smiling face.
Pepper walking into danger because he asked it of her. Choosing
to kill him, even, because it was the right thing to do.
Strength, loyalty, integrity. Did she have any idea of how much
he admired her? Tony was pretty sure she knew he lusted after
her, that wasn’t really something he tried to hide, but every
time he tried to bring up the subject of something more, Pepper seemed
to sidestep it with a practiced grace that made it hard to tell whether
she was consciously avoiding the issue or just clueless.
Tony supposed that a gentleman would take the hint, if it was one, and let the whole thing go.
Good thing I’m not a gentleman.
He began opening the bags and boxes, spilling metal and gems into his
palm for a quick examination. Most of it was gold; his
mother’s strong coloring had defeated silver.
“You should take these too,” Pepper said, pushing one small
container towards him. Tony opened it to find a set of diamond
cufflinks, elegant sparks that bespoke wealth without
ostentation.
“Good idea.” That box, too, went into his pocket, and
Tony watched Pepper cross it off her list, then circled around the
table to see what she was looking at. “Oh hey, I remember
that.”
He picked up the tiny box for a better look. The wide-banded ring
was gold and enameled black, a spiral pattern of leaves and coils set
with a round opal--an antique, almost Renaissance-style piece that
he’d only seen his mother wear a few times. “It came
from Dad’s side of the family. Belonged to his
grandmother.”
Pepper smiled. “It’s very pretty, I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”
“Here, try it on.” Tony pulled it free of the plush
and held it out, but Pepper gave him an admonishing look.
“Certainly not. It’s--” He grabbed the hand closest to him. “--Tony!”
“Come on, Pepper, what woman doesn’t like
jewelry?” He slid the ring onto her pinky finger, gripping
her wrist tighter to keep her from pulling away, but the ring was too
loose, so he moved on to the next one. This time it fit
perfectly. “There.”
Pepper succeeded in jerking her hand free. “Tony, this is completely inappropriate.”
He raised his brows. “How so? There’s no one
here but us.” Tony kept his eyes on her, waiting for her to
debate the issue, but she just tightened her lips and let it
slide. Piqued, he took her hand again.
“It looks pretty good, actually. Why don’t you wear
more jewelry, Pepper? You’ve got great hands, you should
show them off.” It was true; she kept her nails short but
manicured, and her long shapely fingers had figured in more than one of
his more pleasant dreams. And the ring stood out against her pale
skin, the opal glowing blue-green-pink in its setting.
“We’ve had this conversation,” Pepper said with
exasperation. “Professional appearance,
remember?” She tugged, but Tony closed his fingers, not
done looking. Or feeling; her cool skin was warming against his,
and he stroked his thumb over her knuckles, savoring the
softness.
Pepper coughed. “Besides,” she said, her voice a
little constricted, “I’m allergic to silver, and it kind of
restricts my choices.” She finally pulled her hand
free.
“There goes my piercing fantasy.” Tony watched as she
rolled her eyes and began to tug the ring off. It slid up to her
knuckle...and stopped.
Frowning, Pepper twisted it and pulled again, but it didn’t budge. “Um...”
Amused, Tony grabbed her hand once more. “If you keep
yanking, it’ll never come off.” He lifted her hand
for a better look. “It went on just fine...”
Her knuckle was already reddening from her attempts to remove the ring,
and Tony could see that it was starting to swell a little. He
looked past her hand to her face, and Pepper was blushing hot
pink. “PMS,” she muttered. “Water
retention.”
Tony bit back the quip that sprang to mind--one thing he had learned
was that it was not wise to tease a woman about period-related
matters--and shrugged. “Well, let’s try the obvious
solution first.” Folding back her other fingers, he slid
the beringed one into his mouth, wrapping his tongue around her knuckle
and smothering a laugh at her squeak. Pepper went from pink to
bright red, and he had to hold her still again, but nonetheless Tony
took his time, making sure that her finger and the ring both were
thoroughly lubricated before removing them from his mouth. The
ring tasted of old metal, but her skin had a flavor he couldn’t
quite name, something sweet and tempting.
“Tony--” He would almost have thought her disgusted,
but for the pulse beating rapidly in her throat. Tony smirked at
her and tugged gently on the ring. Unfortunately, it still
wouldn’t budge.
“For the record, you taste divine, but alas, no ring
removal,” he sighed, and reached for the handkerchief in his
breast pocket. “You have petite hands, but it looks like my
mother’s were petiter. Is that a word?
Petiter?” He started to dry her finger, but Pepper yanked
it away, snatching the handkerchief from his hand.
“No, it’s not.” She turned away, ears still heated, her movements jerky. “I can’t believe this--”
Tony picked up the empty box and added it to his stash, since it was
clear that the ring wasn’t coming off just yet, and went back to
looking through the collection. “Relax, Pepper. When
we get back to the house we can try KY jelly.”
As he expected, that produced a hiss of suppressed swearing, and he
grinned and went on sorting, listening to his assistant take
deliberately deep breaths as she tried to calm her temper. By the
time she’d stuffed the crumpled handkerchief into her pocket, he
had finished, and was repacking the safe-deposit box.
Pepper picked up the sheaf of papers once more, and cleared her
throat. “Did you want to take anything else?”
“Not unless you have a spoon fetish.” Tony replaced
the last few bundles. “Why is it that nobody collects
forks?”
His assistant, her composure restored, snickered.
“I’m sure I could research that question for you if you
really want to know.”
“Nah, I’ll ask Jarvis. It’ll give him something
to do.” He closed the box. “Let’s get out
of here.”
The woman was waiting patiently in the corridor outside to take the
safe-deposit box back to the vault, and as they left the room Ndibe met
them, still smiling. “I trust everything was in
order?”
The bank manager walked them out to the front door, chatting easily,
and shook hands once more as Happy emerged from the limo idling at the
curb to open the door. “May I offer my felicitations, Ms.
Potts, Mr. Stark?” Ndibe asked genially, which made Tony blink in
confusion and Pepper go dead white.
“It’s not--” she began, but another employee came up
behind Ndibe and tapped him on the shoulder, whispering urgently in his
ear. The man gave them one last smile and turned away, and Tony
frowned as Pepper whirled and all but ran for the car.
“Whoa, Potts!” He caught up with her at the curb, but
she dove into the vehicle before him, so Tony just slid inside after
her, shrugging at Happy in bafflement. The chauffeur merely
tipped his head and closed the door; it took a lot to ruffle him.
Tony turned to his PA, who was yanking once more at the ring, her face set. Alarmed, he grabbed both
her hands this time. “Hey, hey! That’s not
going to work. What the hell is the matter?”
“The matter, Mr. Stark?” she spat. “The matter is that Ndibe now thinks we’re engaged.” She shook the beringed hand in his grasp, which, he noticed belatedly, happened to be her left one.
Tony gaped down at it. He should be horrified, he thought vaguely, but the thought uppermost in his mind was actually what a great idea.
“It’s not an engagement-type ring,” he managed, ignoring Pepper’s attempts to pull free.
“That doesn’t matter--you heard
him.” Pepper sounded angry and a little panicked.
Tony looked up at her, intrigued by that panic, and let his forefingers
find the pulses on the underside of her wrists, stroking gently.
Her lips moved in a silent oath, and she drew in a breath.
“It’s a good thing he’s not inclined to
gossip--“
“Destination, sir?” broke in Happy’s voice from the
front of the vehicle. Tony didn’t take his eyes from
Pepper.
“Home. We have a date with some lubricant.” He
smirked at his now beet-red assistant, but Happy was used to such quips
and merely pulled the limo out into traffic.
“Mr. Stark, if you want to keep this quiet you had better shut up.”
“Ooh, you’re really pissed if you’re back to using my
last name. Why should I keep it quiet, Pepper? It sounds to
me like a pretty good thing.” Her pulse wasn’t
slowing under his touch; in fact, it seemed to be speeding up despite
his attempt to soothe.
She sucked in another long breath, held it, and then exhaled
sharply. Her hands relaxed in his, and Tony loosened his grip,
only to have them snatched away. “Tony. This is not
the time for one of your jokes. Do you realize what kind of
effect a rumor like this could have? Stock prices, the press, the
board--not to mention my credibility--“
Tony slumped against the seat, his mind turning over the possibilities rapidly. The idea of keeping Pepper, though, as a permanent part of all
his life, kept intruding. He hadn’t thought much beyond
coaxing her into a relationship, but contrary to all his past, the idea
of forever was...tempting.
And for Tony Stark, the best way to deal with temptation was to give into it.
Given how stressed his assistant seemed to be, though, now was perhaps
not the best time to broach the subject. “Pepper...Pepper,
take it easy. As you said, Ndibe doesn’t tell tales.
We’ll get the thing off as soon as we get home, and that’ll
be that.” He patted her knee. “I’m not
sure you’re right about the effect, though. The
board’s been trying to get me to settle down for years.”
Pepper grimaced, sitting back a little. “Not with your PA,
Tony. A sordid office romance is hardly the sort of thing to
reassure them.”
“Who says it has to be sordid?” Tony protested, surprised
at his own mild offense. “Dirty, sure, I’m all for
that, but anyone who thinks you can be sordid needs his attitude adjusted. I have wrenches...”
Pepper blinked at him, her cheeks pinkening again and the corner of her
mouth turning up. “Public perception is the problem, not
reality, as you well know.” She picked up the papers
she’d dropped on getting into the limo and stacked them
neatly. “And I can’t do my job if no one respects me
any longer.”
He had a hard time imagining anyone not respecting Pepper Potts, but the idea made him genuinely angry. The woman does the work of six people and keeps me in line. She’s worth a hell of a lot more respect than I am.
“If you were married to me, Pepper, they’d have
to respect you,” he said, pitching his voice to tease but very
curious as to how she’d react. To his delight, the roll of
her eyes was accompanied by a deepening of that telltale flush.
“But if anybody gives you any trouble, let me know. As I
said, wrenches.”
She sniffed dismissively, fished out her BlackBerry from her pants
pocket, and began scrolling. Tony put his feet up on the opposite
seat and folded his hands on his stomach, and considered the
situation.
The more he thought about it, the more the idea of being engaged to
Pepper appealed. Especially if there was going to be a wedding at
the end of it. One of the things Tony knew he feared was losing
the people he cared about, and Pepper was at the top of that
list. And she keeps her promises.
It was a worthy fantasy--his ring on her finger, her kiss on his lips,
and taking her home with him forever. He’d spent his adult
life avoiding romantic entanglements, but the idea of belonging to
Pepper felt nothing like a trap and entirely like something he should
be working on, right now.
But does she want you, genius?
He frowned. Pepper was attracted to him, no question about that;
but a marriage, a true one, would require more than that.
I want what Mom and Dad had.
It was a strange realization, given how long he’d refused to
remember, but nonetheless it was the truth. And something like
that had to have a firmer foundation than lust, honest though it might
be.
So break it down.
One--find out if she’s in love with you. If yes, then all
you have to do is talk her into a real engagement. If no--
The thought made his chest ache, but Tony didn’t stop. If no, then...you’ll have to woo her.
Which, he had to admit, he had no idea how to do. He could flirt,
sure, and while he didn’t usually have to put much effort into
seducing a woman there had been a few times when he’d played a
merry game of chase. But how do you offer a woman your heart?
Obviously, he had work to do. Tony closed his eyes, and began to plan.
When they got out of the limo, Pepper outdistanced him into the
house. Tony followed her to the kitchen, and found her rummaging
through the cabinets. When she retrieved a tall bottle and walked
to the sink, he snorted. “Cooking oil, Potts? If you
don’t want to borrow my KY I’m sure there’s some
Vaseline around here somewhere.” He thought for a
moment. “Or machine oil, if you prefer.”
Pepper shook her head, yanking a dishtowel from the rack where it hung
in snowy folds and tying it around her neck--to protect her blouse from
any splashes, Tony surmised. “Opals are fragile, Tony, and
this is an heirloom stone. I can’t even use
lotion.”
He drifted closer to watch as she trickled a generous splash of the
golden oil over the ring and her finger, and set the bottle down.
Because he wanted to, Tony reached out and took her dripping hand in
both of his, using his fingers to work the oil in under the ring and
ignoring Pepper’s abortive protest. He wasn’t sure if
she was more worried about his sleeves or the fact that he was touching
her again, but either way he wasn’t going to stop.
“You’re going to smell like a French fry.”
“As opposed to a machine shop?” she shot back, and he grinned.
“Some people find the odor of fine lubricant
arousing.” The oil was making her skin even softer.
“Now relax.”
He gripped the ring carefully and slid it up her finger, but again it
stopped at the knuckle, and no matter how he twisted, it wouldn’t
go further. Tony frowned. “I don’t want to hurt
you.”
Pepper brushed his hands away and took over, pulling much harder than
he would have dared, her lips in a tight line. Tony flinched as
she yanked, and when she had no more success he grabbed her
wrist. “Stop, Pepper. This isn’t working.”
She sighed, shoulders slumping. “I guess not.”
Tony gave her wrist a squeeze, and reached for the sink dispenser with
his other hand. “You can try again tomorrow.”
He pumped a dollop of detergent into his hand and began to lather it
with his fingers.
“Wait, no soap,” Pepper said in alarm, but Tony snorted again.
“I doubt once will hurt it much, Pepper, and anyway you need to
get the oil off. If necessary the stone can be
replaced.” He ignored her wince and scrubbed her hands
gently. “The swelling should go down
overnight.”
Pepper sighed again, a tired sound. “Three days,” she
said. “That’s how long it usually takes.”
Tony turned on the faucet and guided her hands to the water, rinsing
both pairs before letting her go and plucking the towel from around her
neck. “Three days, then.” He gave his hands a
cursory wipe and held out the towel, smirking again. “You
can wear a Band-aid over it if it worries you so much.”
She rolled her eyes, and took the cloth. Tony glanced at the
clock on the microwave. “Since we’re here,
Potts,” he went on, “why don’t we call it quits for
the day? By the time we get back to the office it’ll be
time to leave anyway.” It was a slight exaggeration, but he
really didn’t want to bother going back, and he was betting that
Pepper wouldn’t either with the ring still on her finger.
She hung up the towel, looking at the time herself.
“You’re right,” she said reluctantly. “I
can handle the budget reports by video, and there’s nothing else
there that can’t wait until tomorrow.” She looked
down at the ring still stubbornly clinging to her finger, and shook her
head. “It’s probably just as well.”
“Probably,” Tony agreed dryly, and picked up the oil,
turning to the cabinet to put it away. He felt Pepper’s
eyes on him for a moment before she spoke.
“Tony...it’s not...” She hesitated. “It’s not the idea,
you know--it’s just all the problems involved--” She
huffed a distressed breath, and that made him turn back. “I
mean, I’m not assuming anything but--”
“I know,” he said gently. Pepper was red once more,
and all he wanted to do was hug her until she stopped being so
embarrassed. For a moment, he almost did, but--No. Don’t screw this up. “It’s okay, Potts. I get it. I’m not insulted. Now go make your call.”
With a distinct air of relief, Pepper fled. Tony watched her
disappear, amused, and went to change clothes. Suit schematics
were calling him.
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