Psych/Iron Man movie FF: Ask me no questions [Shawn Spencer/Tony Stark; NC-17]
Reposting from 
oxoniensis's Porn Battle VIII
Title: Ask me no questions
Fandom: Psych/Iron Man movie crossover
Pairing: Shawn Spencer/Tony Stark
Rating: NC-17
Length: 1,900 words
Disclaimer: Psych belongs to Steve Franks and the USA network; Iron Man belongs to Marvel.
Spoilers: Psych to S1 probably, Iron Man for the movie.
Summary: Pepper goes on vacation and hires Tony a temp. Prompts were genius, temp, originally here.
Tony doesn’t really believe Pepper’s going to take the vacation she’s been threatening until the day that it happens. She had marked it on every scheduler in the house, plus left increasingly alarming notifications with Jarvis, and began reminding him herself at regular intervals from three months prior. Still. He doesn’t actually factor it into his reality until he walks into the kitchen that morning and there’s a man playing with a yo-yo at his breakfast bar.
“Hey,” the guy says, and he’s pretty good at pretending nonchalance. He’s wearing jeans and a green t-shirt; skinny body and a badly-shaven face. He doesn’t look much like a thief, but then Obadiah hadn’t looked like a murderer. Appearances can be deceptive.
“Hi,” Tony says. “You want to get out of my house? You know, before I have to decide whether to call security or just throw you out of the door myself.”
“Well, sure. You could do that. I mean, I could turn out to be a super-villain who used my amazing powers of mind-manipulation to convince your bodyguards to let me in, and then talked your awesomely smart computer to let me stay, and I could be waiting to steal your new robot-suit and kill you while you sleep.”
“Yeah?” Tony asks.
“Or maybe the temp agency sent me. That’s option B. Less interesting, more truthful. Isn’t it weird the way that happens? It’s Shawn, by the way. With an H, not an E. Spencer has an E - that’s my last name - but I guess if you check your messages, you’ll probably find that out yourself.”
Tony fires up his emails, and sure enough, the final one from Pepper (marked “Last reminder, Tony, so stop ignoring me!”) told him that he was going to be followed around by a kid called Shawn for two weeks. It also asked him to be nice.
Tony frowns. “I don’t like new people.” He pours himself a coffee, and goes down to the workshop. He tosses, “No calls unless it’s Fury with an update on that lizard thing,” over his shoulder.
He catches the flash of a smile on the kid’s face as he walks downstairs, and he’s almost tempted to turn around. But there’s work to do. Even if he doesn’t need to figure out how to on modify the suit to take on dinosaurs, there’s still the kinks to work out of the stabilisers, and reviewing the new plans for Rhodey’s suit. He doesn’t have the time for distractions.
*
Day three, he finds Shawn in the workshop. Shawn has his head tilted sideways, looking at Dummy.
Tony coughs. “He’ll shoot, you know.”
Shawn scoots backwards in a hurry.
“Admittedly, he’ll shoot foam,” Tony continues, “but the point stands. How the hell did you get in here?”
“Pepper told me to clear up after you if you got busy and forgot. The coffee cups were disappearing. Naturally I suspected they were growing a rebellion force down here, ready to destroy us by sheer force of numbers. And look - I was right.”
“Not what I asked.”
Shawn shrugs, looking innocent. “Pepper gave me the code?”
“No she didn’t. I know this partially because Pepper wouldn’t do that, but mostly because Pepper’s access codes are disabled until she gets back.”
Shawn shrugs again. “Luck?” He picks up seven mugs, balancing them on a tray he’s found somewhere. He carries it one-handed upstairs.
Tony asks, “Are you an assistant or a waiter?”
“I like to think of myself a good multi-tasker,” Shawn says. The door clicks closed - locked - behind him.
*
Day seven, and Shawn has found a dress shirt. He’s wearing a suit, and still manages to look like he belongs on a beach or a college campus somewhere. He’s leaning against the wall of the conference room, and dragging Tony’s attention away from where it’s supposed to be. Pepper manages to be both a beautiful and alluring woman, and yet somehow unobtrusive when she chooses. Shawn is - presumably - not trying to make Tony want to strangle him. But there you are. He’s distracting. Tony’s easily distracted, especially by people he hasn’t figured out yet.
Shawn coughs. “That’s just wrong. I mean, I get that if you want Mr Stark to forget your economic promises to the developing world, this might seem a good way to go about it, but that’s not really your plan, is it George? Because it would be a pretty dumb plan.”
The room silences. Things like this are the reason the board hates him.
“Shawn?” Tony asks.
“Subsidies. Page one-hundred-ninety, halfway down the page. Your copy has a coffee-stain by it.”
Tony flicks through to the page in question. He finds the coffee-stain, and the clause Shawn means.
“What do you know,” Tony says, “Shawn’s right.” He ignores the huff of indignation behind him. “So, George. Is this incompetence or malice? Think carefully before answering. Either way I need your resignation before the end of the day.”
Tony walks out of the office with Shawn trailing after him. He pushes his files into Shawn’s hands. “What did you do?” Tony asks.
“I have a good memory,” Shawn says. His eyes are oddly serious, above a smile that is trying to make Tony look at that and nothing else. This has to stop.
*
Day ten is when Tony snaps. Shawn is sitting cross-legged on Tony’s chair in the workshop. He’s sipping a pineapple smoothie through a straw, and there’s a smashed surveillance device under the desk. Shawn’s hands slide across the screens Jarvis is displaying for him.
Tony shoves the chair back. “Okay, who the hell are you? Did Fury send you? Or someone else?
“Shawn Spencer. No. Pepper. Did you hit your head? Because I can call someone. Happy can have a car ready in about thirty seconds - do you know how fast those things go?”
Tony leans over Shawn in the chair, his hands braced either side of Shawn’s head. Shawn swallows. Tony’s mixed up between loving the effect and wondering how he accidentally hired a bored genius to temp for him. Once upon a time, he would have called it serendipity, and fucked the kid over the desk. He’s a little more suspicious now.
Shawn says, “Hey, now, man, it’s… There was a bug!” He waves his hands wildly. “Not like a mosquito bug, an electronic one. It was listening to you. And… stuff. I don’t know - that’s what I’m trying to find out. Even I need a little time to work on a theory.”
Tony raises his eyebrow. “And you know this, how?”
Shawn smiles, and there’s an edge to it that Tony recognises from his reflection in shattered glass. “Because I’m very, very smart. Someone doesn’t like you - would you like to help me find out who?”
Tony laughs. “Kid, calling up the list of people who don’t like me would break Jarvis’s servers. I’ve got better ways to spend my time.”
Shawn tilts his head in question. Tony pushes the chair back against the wall. Shawn’s mouth slips open in an ‘oh’. But (and Tony’s own genius intellect pulls up that first remark about truth) Shawn wasn’t lying about being smart. His arms stop their jerky explanation and drop to Tony’s fly.
Tony’s had sex in more confined places than a desk chair, but Shawn twists, and they’re clearly going to need more space than this. He gets his hands under Shawn’s ass and lifts him up. He half-carries Shawn to the crash mats, where there is space to lay the kid out and look at the sprawl he makes.
Shawn blinks, and pulls Tony down to him. He’s noisy, and messy, and this is why Tony sometimes likes to fuck men. Shawn curses when he gets his hands caught in his own belt, and Tony pushes his hands away. Tony gets the ubiquitous jeans off Shawn’s hips, and then the shirt.
Tony drags his own clothing off with practised ease, and Shawn’s fingers press against each inch of skin. Tony gets the slightly unnerving feeling of being memorised. Shawn murmurs, nonsensically, “close your eyes”. Tony obliges anyway, and finds himself turned over. Shawn kisses him, and then mouths the crook of his neck, and the hollow of his throat.
Tony watches Shawn’s fingers skate around the edge of the arc reactor casing. Shawn laughs quietly. “You are absolutely the coolest boss I’ve ever had. And there’s been a few - I was Clooney’s personal trainer, you know.”
Laughing, Tony gets his hand into Shawn’s boxers. “I’ve seen Clooney naked - I wouldn’t get too excited about that.”
Shawn looks at him. Yeah, Tony thinks, I can bullshit with the best of them. And Shawn’s the best. Shawn is hard and pressing against Tony’s hand. Shawn says, “C’mon, Tony, we’re not delayed-gratification people.”
This is true. Tony wraps his arms around Shawn’s waist and pulls him down. All they need is the rub, up and down, of Shawn’s body sliding against his. Sometimes it doesn’t need to be complicated. Warm and sticky, Shawn slips down beside him.
“So,” Tony says, “when you took this gig, was it about me, or my other job?”
“I don’t know,” Shawn says, “take me flying before I leave and I can let you know.”
*
Day thirteen and a half, Shawn is lying asleep beside Tony in the bed. He sleeps like someone who normally sleeps alone, limbs akimbo under the sheets. Tony has one of Shawn’s hands in his, looking at his fingers.
Shawn stirs. “I just want you to know,” he says, “that while I’m not normally a morning person, if you’re measuring my hands for my very own robot-suit, I can deal with that.”
Tony looks at him.
“I’d be a great superhero,” Shawn says. “As long as no one told my Dad. Then I’m pretty sure I’d be a dead superhero. Have you ever found a good answer for the whole illegal vigilantism hindering the work of real cops thing?”
Tony says, “You have poker hands. You play?”
“Only when I’m broke. No challenge. You?”
“I like something riskier,” Tony agrees.
“I knew there was a reason you were the only superhero I liked,” Shawn says. He rolls over in the bed, coaxing Tony’s morning wood to full awareness. Shawn magics the lube out of thin air, fingering himself open before kneeling over the top of Tony.
Tony’s done the research now: Shawn’s test scores, his criminal record, and a job history that proves him right on that multi-tasking thing. The Santa Barbara Police Department, and some unspecified reprimand. Something maybe related to the Gus/Jules/Dad whose calls Shawn ignores when he thinks that Tony’s working.
Tony’s got no room to help anyone else with their issues. He holds onto Shawn’s hips when he lowers himself down. Tony whispers, “Last day. You want to go for a fly after breakfast?”
Shawn’s laughter is breathless but delighted. He fucks himself open on Tony’s cock, grinning to himself.
Tony asks, “So, is this your best temp job?” He’s seen the list, but he fancies his chances anyway.
Shawn thinks about it, because he can, and because it makes Tony pull him down harder. He’s speeding up, and Tony smiles to himself because it’s as much about the promise of flight as Tony’s palm around his cock. Shawn bends down to kiss him and says, “Top five, definitely.”
FIN.
oxoniensis's Porn Battle VIII
Title: Ask me no questions
Fandom: Psych/Iron Man movie crossover
Pairing: Shawn Spencer/Tony Stark
Rating: NC-17
Length: 1,900 words
Disclaimer: Psych belongs to Steve Franks and the USA network; Iron Man belongs to Marvel.
Spoilers: Psych to S1 probably, Iron Man for the movie.
Summary: Pepper goes on vacation and hires Tony a temp. Prompts were genius, temp, originally here.
Tony doesn’t really believe Pepper’s going to take the vacation she’s been threatening until the day that it happens. She had marked it on every scheduler in the house, plus left increasingly alarming notifications with Jarvis, and began reminding him herself at regular intervals from three months prior. Still. He doesn’t actually factor it into his reality until he walks into the kitchen that morning and there’s a man playing with a yo-yo at his breakfast bar.
“Hey,” the guy says, and he’s pretty good at pretending nonchalance. He’s wearing jeans and a green t-shirt; skinny body and a badly-shaven face. He doesn’t look much like a thief, but then Obadiah hadn’t looked like a murderer. Appearances can be deceptive.
“Hi,” Tony says. “You want to get out of my house? You know, before I have to decide whether to call security or just throw you out of the door myself.”
“Well, sure. You could do that. I mean, I could turn out to be a super-villain who used my amazing powers of mind-manipulation to convince your bodyguards to let me in, and then talked your awesomely smart computer to let me stay, and I could be waiting to steal your new robot-suit and kill you while you sleep.”
“Yeah?” Tony asks.
“Or maybe the temp agency sent me. That’s option B. Less interesting, more truthful. Isn’t it weird the way that happens? It’s Shawn, by the way. With an H, not an E. Spencer has an E - that’s my last name - but I guess if you check your messages, you’ll probably find that out yourself.”
Tony fires up his emails, and sure enough, the final one from Pepper (marked “Last reminder, Tony, so stop ignoring me!”) told him that he was going to be followed around by a kid called Shawn for two weeks. It also asked him to be nice.
Tony frowns. “I don’t like new people.” He pours himself a coffee, and goes down to the workshop. He tosses, “No calls unless it’s Fury with an update on that lizard thing,” over his shoulder.
He catches the flash of a smile on the kid’s face as he walks downstairs, and he’s almost tempted to turn around. But there’s work to do. Even if he doesn’t need to figure out how to on modify the suit to take on dinosaurs, there’s still the kinks to work out of the stabilisers, and reviewing the new plans for Rhodey’s suit. He doesn’t have the time for distractions.
*
Day three, he finds Shawn in the workshop. Shawn has his head tilted sideways, looking at Dummy.
Tony coughs. “He’ll shoot, you know.”
Shawn scoots backwards in a hurry.
“Admittedly, he’ll shoot foam,” Tony continues, “but the point stands. How the hell did you get in here?”
“Pepper told me to clear up after you if you got busy and forgot. The coffee cups were disappearing. Naturally I suspected they were growing a rebellion force down here, ready to destroy us by sheer force of numbers. And look - I was right.”
“Not what I asked.”
Shawn shrugs, looking innocent. “Pepper gave me the code?”
“No she didn’t. I know this partially because Pepper wouldn’t do that, but mostly because Pepper’s access codes are disabled until she gets back.”
Shawn shrugs again. “Luck?” He picks up seven mugs, balancing them on a tray he’s found somewhere. He carries it one-handed upstairs.
Tony asks, “Are you an assistant or a waiter?”
“I like to think of myself a good multi-tasker,” Shawn says. The door clicks closed - locked - behind him.
*
Day seven, and Shawn has found a dress shirt. He’s wearing a suit, and still manages to look like he belongs on a beach or a college campus somewhere. He’s leaning against the wall of the conference room, and dragging Tony’s attention away from where it’s supposed to be. Pepper manages to be both a beautiful and alluring woman, and yet somehow unobtrusive when she chooses. Shawn is - presumably - not trying to make Tony want to strangle him. But there you are. He’s distracting. Tony’s easily distracted, especially by people he hasn’t figured out yet.
Shawn coughs. “That’s just wrong. I mean, I get that if you want Mr Stark to forget your economic promises to the developing world, this might seem a good way to go about it, but that’s not really your plan, is it George? Because it would be a pretty dumb plan.”
The room silences. Things like this are the reason the board hates him.
“Shawn?” Tony asks.
“Subsidies. Page one-hundred-ninety, halfway down the page. Your copy has a coffee-stain by it.”
Tony flicks through to the page in question. He finds the coffee-stain, and the clause Shawn means.
“What do you know,” Tony says, “Shawn’s right.” He ignores the huff of indignation behind him. “So, George. Is this incompetence or malice? Think carefully before answering. Either way I need your resignation before the end of the day.”
Tony walks out of the office with Shawn trailing after him. He pushes his files into Shawn’s hands. “What did you do?” Tony asks.
“I have a good memory,” Shawn says. His eyes are oddly serious, above a smile that is trying to make Tony look at that and nothing else. This has to stop.
*
Day ten is when Tony snaps. Shawn is sitting cross-legged on Tony’s chair in the workshop. He’s sipping a pineapple smoothie through a straw, and there’s a smashed surveillance device under the desk. Shawn’s hands slide across the screens Jarvis is displaying for him.
Tony shoves the chair back. “Okay, who the hell are you? Did Fury send you? Or someone else?
“Shawn Spencer. No. Pepper. Did you hit your head? Because I can call someone. Happy can have a car ready in about thirty seconds - do you know how fast those things go?”
Tony leans over Shawn in the chair, his hands braced either side of Shawn’s head. Shawn swallows. Tony’s mixed up between loving the effect and wondering how he accidentally hired a bored genius to temp for him. Once upon a time, he would have called it serendipity, and fucked the kid over the desk. He’s a little more suspicious now.
Shawn says, “Hey, now, man, it’s… There was a bug!” He waves his hands wildly. “Not like a mosquito bug, an electronic one. It was listening to you. And… stuff. I don’t know - that’s what I’m trying to find out. Even I need a little time to work on a theory.”
Tony raises his eyebrow. “And you know this, how?”
Shawn smiles, and there’s an edge to it that Tony recognises from his reflection in shattered glass. “Because I’m very, very smart. Someone doesn’t like you - would you like to help me find out who?”
Tony laughs. “Kid, calling up the list of people who don’t like me would break Jarvis’s servers. I’ve got better ways to spend my time.”
Shawn tilts his head in question. Tony pushes the chair back against the wall. Shawn’s mouth slips open in an ‘oh’. But (and Tony’s own genius intellect pulls up that first remark about truth) Shawn wasn’t lying about being smart. His arms stop their jerky explanation and drop to Tony’s fly.
Tony’s had sex in more confined places than a desk chair, but Shawn twists, and they’re clearly going to need more space than this. He gets his hands under Shawn’s ass and lifts him up. He half-carries Shawn to the crash mats, where there is space to lay the kid out and look at the sprawl he makes.
Shawn blinks, and pulls Tony down to him. He’s noisy, and messy, and this is why Tony sometimes likes to fuck men. Shawn curses when he gets his hands caught in his own belt, and Tony pushes his hands away. Tony gets the ubiquitous jeans off Shawn’s hips, and then the shirt.
Tony drags his own clothing off with practised ease, and Shawn’s fingers press against each inch of skin. Tony gets the slightly unnerving feeling of being memorised. Shawn murmurs, nonsensically, “close your eyes”. Tony obliges anyway, and finds himself turned over. Shawn kisses him, and then mouths the crook of his neck, and the hollow of his throat.
Tony watches Shawn’s fingers skate around the edge of the arc reactor casing. Shawn laughs quietly. “You are absolutely the coolest boss I’ve ever had. And there’s been a few - I was Clooney’s personal trainer, you know.”
Laughing, Tony gets his hand into Shawn’s boxers. “I’ve seen Clooney naked - I wouldn’t get too excited about that.”
Shawn looks at him. Yeah, Tony thinks, I can bullshit with the best of them. And Shawn’s the best. Shawn is hard and pressing against Tony’s hand. Shawn says, “C’mon, Tony, we’re not delayed-gratification people.”
This is true. Tony wraps his arms around Shawn’s waist and pulls him down. All they need is the rub, up and down, of Shawn’s body sliding against his. Sometimes it doesn’t need to be complicated. Warm and sticky, Shawn slips down beside him.
“So,” Tony says, “when you took this gig, was it about me, or my other job?”
“I don’t know,” Shawn says, “take me flying before I leave and I can let you know.”
*
Day thirteen and a half, Shawn is lying asleep beside Tony in the bed. He sleeps like someone who normally sleeps alone, limbs akimbo under the sheets. Tony has one of Shawn’s hands in his, looking at his fingers.
Shawn stirs. “I just want you to know,” he says, “that while I’m not normally a morning person, if you’re measuring my hands for my very own robot-suit, I can deal with that.”
Tony looks at him.
“I’d be a great superhero,” Shawn says. “As long as no one told my Dad. Then I’m pretty sure I’d be a dead superhero. Have you ever found a good answer for the whole illegal vigilantism hindering the work of real cops thing?”
Tony says, “You have poker hands. You play?”
“Only when I’m broke. No challenge. You?”
“I like something riskier,” Tony agrees.
“I knew there was a reason you were the only superhero I liked,” Shawn says. He rolls over in the bed, coaxing Tony’s morning wood to full awareness. Shawn magics the lube out of thin air, fingering himself open before kneeling over the top of Tony.
Tony’s done the research now: Shawn’s test scores, his criminal record, and a job history that proves him right on that multi-tasking thing. The Santa Barbara Police Department, and some unspecified reprimand. Something maybe related to the Gus/Jules/Dad whose calls Shawn ignores when he thinks that Tony’s working.
Tony’s got no room to help anyone else with their issues. He holds onto Shawn’s hips when he lowers himself down. Tony whispers, “Last day. You want to go for a fly after breakfast?”
Shawn’s laughter is breathless but delighted. He fucks himself open on Tony’s cock, grinning to himself.
Tony asks, “So, is this your best temp job?” He’s seen the list, but he fancies his chances anyway.
Shawn thinks about it, because he can, and because it makes Tony pull him down harder. He’s speeding up, and Tony smiles to himself because it’s as much about the promise of flight as Tony’s palm around his cock. Shawn bends down to kiss him and says, “Top five, definitely.”
FIN.