FIC: Chances Are; Tony/Pepper; PG13
Title: Chances Are
Pairing: Tony/Pepper
Rating: PG-13 for making out.
Summary: ...When she does gamble, she gambles big.
Notes: Huge thanks to thewlisian_afer for putting up with my agonizing. 1,445 words. No real spoilers, but set after Iron Man 2.
Pepper surprises herself in her ability to not think about things, sometimes. For instance, she gets through an entire date (she assumes it’s a date, they didn’t really talk much about it beforehand) with Tony without ever thinking about what it means that he’s smiling at her like that, or what it must look like that his fingers keep brushing over her knuckles, or even whether the champagne they’re drinking is one which means he’s expecting something of her later.
And then they’re back at Tony’s place.
On the couch.
Making out.
It’s good, too. Suddenly, she’s doing things she only ever fantasized about in passing. Like running her fingers through his hair while she nibbles on his lower lip. His goatee feels kind of nice; she’d always figured it would scratch more than it actually does.
The look in his eyes sends shivers down her spine, and she lets him press closer, but when his hand is working its way up her inner thigh, something in her brain clicks into motion and she says, “Wait. Wait, stop.”
----------
Contrary to popular belief, Tony Stark does not sexually harass Pepper Potts.
Or, well, okay, maybe by some definitions of the term.
He does not make lewd comments about her underwear, or whether she’s ‘red all over’, nor does he pinch her or smack her ass or grab her breasts or try to find ways to look up her skirt.
Every once in a while, he’ll say something like, “You look fantastic today.”
And Pepper will reply with, “That’s inappropriate, Mr. Stark.”
Or, on occasion, if he’s covered in grease and sweat, she’ll reply, “I can’t exactly say the same for you.”
Once or twice, she’s even just said, “Thanks.”
----------
He pulls away immediately, his eyes still dilated, his breathing as heavy as hers. He raises his eyebrows. He’s waiting. Just like she told him to.
“What - What are we doing, Tony?”
His mouth twists into a little smile, at that. “Has it been so long that you’ve forgotten? Do I need to illustrate the baseball metaphor for you? I can get JARVIS to pull up a diagram…”
“You’re insufferable.”
“And irresistible.”
----------
From the very first time they meet, he doesn’t look at her the way he looks at other women.
The first expression she ever sees on his face is one of slight surprise. She supposes it’s because he doesn’t expect an accountant named Virginia to look like her.
When she offers her hand to shake, completely unexpected, he takes it and brings it to his mouth. His lips are cool across her knuckles, and the look in his eyes is surprisingly playful; not the leer she was looking for.
“I’m sure you’ve heard a lot about me. Most of it’s true.”
“Guys like you are the reason I carry pepper spray,” she quips back before she has a chance to think, oh my god, did I just say that to the freaking CEO? She’s taking a risk.
But he laughs, and within five minutes she is “Pepper” Potts, and has just accepted a job as Tony Stark’s personal assistant.
----------
“Tony,“ she says with a sigh.
“Pepper.” He takes her hands in his. His hands are warm, and calloused from all the work he does with them. Not soft, like you might expect from a billionaire businessman who was born with the proverbial silver spoon. “What are you worried about?”
She makes a face. “I don’t want to be one of your women.”
----------
They look at her with resentment, or disdain, or sometimes even pity as she escorts them off the premises and out of Tony’s life.
It doesn’t bother her, none of it. Pepper doesn’t care what those women think of her, nor does she care that they know what his body feels like all around them, in them, and she doesn’t.
What Pepper knows is far more important. Why would she ever choose to exchange the trust, camaraderie, the long conversations about robots and business meetings and everything else under the sun, for one night, no matter how good the sex, knowing he wouldn’t even remember her name the next day?
She’s not going to be one of those girls. Instead, she is vital. Needed.
Pepper has always needed to be needed.
----------
She’s not even sure why she says it like that, and Tony looks a little baffled, too.
“You’re not. You’re, you know. Pepper. What would I do without you, right?” He offers her a smile, but doesn’t go in for another kiss like she half expects. He just keeps going. “It was what I was trying to say, when, you know… Well, you know.” He waves it off like now is not the right time to talk about that particular incident again. “I realized you’re important to me, well, I always knew you were important, but I guess not how much you’re important, and I need you around, and I want you. Around. For the…foreseeable future.”
----------
In some ways, Tony Stark speaks his own language. Pepper, for some reason she has never been able to comprehend, picked up on it almost immediately. It’s the whole reason why they work so well together - somehow, she just knows what he means, more often than not.
Even Obadiah and Rhodey, who’ve both known him longer, occasionally turn to her for guidance in translating the Tony-speak.
Sometimes she wonders if she doesn’t take the translation thing a little too far, thinking she knows the difference between his “impressing the board of directors” smile and his “impressing the model I want to sleep with” smile; his “I really am full of it” look and his “I’m talking like I’m full of it to protect myself” look.
And sometimes she knows there’s even more to it than that.
----------
Not many people would describe Pepper as a risk-taker. She’s far too practical, far too controlled, to enjoy the thrill of gambling the way Tony does.
But when she does gamble, she gambles big. She’s been gambling on Tony for over ten years, and that’s the biggest of all.
So when he’s run out of steam, talked about wanting and needing while not actually saying anything about love, but Pepper knows that’s what he meant, she gives in.
“I’m here,” she says. “I’m more than here.”
His expression changes, because he understands her language the way she understands his, though his eyes still look earnest, somehow. “You realize that doesn’t make a lot of sense, right? I mean, you are very here, but how can you -”
“Tony. Shut up.”
It’s always been easier to communicate to him without words, anyway.
----------
Pepper is warned in plenty of time to clear Tony’s schedule on the anniversary of his parents’ deaths. She is told to not expect to come to work at all that day, because Tony usually locks himself in his workshop and he’s unlikely to emerge until late the next day.
So when he calls her, asking if she minds coming over, it’s a real shock. She’s worked for him for six weeks and he’s never asked if she minds anything.
He’s not getting drunk, he’s actually working. The circles under his eyes suggest he’s been working on very little sleep, but he’s clearly been productive. He’s amiable enough, showing her some of the designs he’s working on, and explaining the tech behind it. She even understands some of it.
Eventually, they work their way around to the sitting area in the corner, and that’s when he opens a bottle of scotch, sharing it with her (she doesn’t bother to tell him that scotch isn’t really her liquor of choice; just gulps it down with him).
“What’re your parents like?” he asks, staring into his tumbler intently.
“Dad ran a travel agency; Mom was an art teacher. Dad died of pancreatic cancer about five years ago. Mom died of a stroke two years after that.”
His mouth twists slightly as he says, “I’m sorry.”
“So am I. They were very good people. I hope I’m half as good as they were.”
That’s when his gaze slides to her face, and he tilts his head slightly. She’s never been looked at in quite that manner before. Like she’s one of his machines.
“You are,” he finally says.
“You don’t know that. You didn’t know them, and you barely know me.”
He shrugs. “I will.”
“That’s quite a risk you’re taking, Mr. Stark.”
“I’d say it’s an even bigger one for you, Miss Potts.” His eyes suddenly have that playful gleam she’d seen the first time they met. “Fun, isn’t it?”
Pairing: Tony/Pepper
Rating: PG-13 for making out.
Summary: ...When she does gamble, she gambles big.
Notes: Huge thanks to thewlisian_afer for putting up with my agonizing. 1,445 words. No real spoilers, but set after Iron Man 2.
Pepper surprises herself in her ability to not think about things, sometimes. For instance, she gets through an entire date (she assumes it’s a date, they didn’t really talk much about it beforehand) with Tony without ever thinking about what it means that he’s smiling at her like that, or what it must look like that his fingers keep brushing over her knuckles, or even whether the champagne they’re drinking is one which means he’s expecting something of her later.
And then they’re back at Tony’s place.
On the couch.
Making out.
It’s good, too. Suddenly, she’s doing things she only ever fantasized about in passing. Like running her fingers through his hair while she nibbles on his lower lip. His goatee feels kind of nice; she’d always figured it would scratch more than it actually does.
The look in his eyes sends shivers down her spine, and she lets him press closer, but when his hand is working its way up her inner thigh, something in her brain clicks into motion and she says, “Wait. Wait, stop.”
----------
Contrary to popular belief, Tony Stark does not sexually harass Pepper Potts.
Or, well, okay, maybe by some definitions of the term.
He does not make lewd comments about her underwear, or whether she’s ‘red all over’, nor does he pinch her or smack her ass or grab her breasts or try to find ways to look up her skirt.
Every once in a while, he’ll say something like, “You look fantastic today.”
And Pepper will reply with, “That’s inappropriate, Mr. Stark.”
Or, on occasion, if he’s covered in grease and sweat, she’ll reply, “I can’t exactly say the same for you.”
Once or twice, she’s even just said, “Thanks.”
----------
He pulls away immediately, his eyes still dilated, his breathing as heavy as hers. He raises his eyebrows. He’s waiting. Just like she told him to.
“What - What are we doing, Tony?”
His mouth twists into a little smile, at that. “Has it been so long that you’ve forgotten? Do I need to illustrate the baseball metaphor for you? I can get JARVIS to pull up a diagram…”
“You’re insufferable.”
“And irresistible.”
----------
From the very first time they meet, he doesn’t look at her the way he looks at other women.
The first expression she ever sees on his face is one of slight surprise. She supposes it’s because he doesn’t expect an accountant named Virginia to look like her.
When she offers her hand to shake, completely unexpected, he takes it and brings it to his mouth. His lips are cool across her knuckles, and the look in his eyes is surprisingly playful; not the leer she was looking for.
“I’m sure you’ve heard a lot about me. Most of it’s true.”
“Guys like you are the reason I carry pepper spray,” she quips back before she has a chance to think, oh my god, did I just say that to the freaking CEO? She’s taking a risk.
But he laughs, and within five minutes she is “Pepper” Potts, and has just accepted a job as Tony Stark’s personal assistant.
----------
“Tony,“ she says with a sigh.
“Pepper.” He takes her hands in his. His hands are warm, and calloused from all the work he does with them. Not soft, like you might expect from a billionaire businessman who was born with the proverbial silver spoon. “What are you worried about?”
She makes a face. “I don’t want to be one of your women.”
----------
They look at her with resentment, or disdain, or sometimes even pity as she escorts them off the premises and out of Tony’s life.
It doesn’t bother her, none of it. Pepper doesn’t care what those women think of her, nor does she care that they know what his body feels like all around them, in them, and she doesn’t.
What Pepper knows is far more important. Why would she ever choose to exchange the trust, camaraderie, the long conversations about robots and business meetings and everything else under the sun, for one night, no matter how good the sex, knowing he wouldn’t even remember her name the next day?
She’s not going to be one of those girls. Instead, she is vital. Needed.
Pepper has always needed to be needed.
----------
She’s not even sure why she says it like that, and Tony looks a little baffled, too.
“You’re not. You’re, you know. Pepper. What would I do without you, right?” He offers her a smile, but doesn’t go in for another kiss like she half expects. He just keeps going. “It was what I was trying to say, when, you know… Well, you know.” He waves it off like now is not the right time to talk about that particular incident again. “I realized you’re important to me, well, I always knew you were important, but I guess not how much you’re important, and I need you around, and I want you. Around. For the…foreseeable future.”
----------
In some ways, Tony Stark speaks his own language. Pepper, for some reason she has never been able to comprehend, picked up on it almost immediately. It’s the whole reason why they work so well together - somehow, she just knows what he means, more often than not.
Even Obadiah and Rhodey, who’ve both known him longer, occasionally turn to her for guidance in translating the Tony-speak.
Sometimes she wonders if she doesn’t take the translation thing a little too far, thinking she knows the difference between his “impressing the board of directors” smile and his “impressing the model I want to sleep with” smile; his “I really am full of it” look and his “I’m talking like I’m full of it to protect myself” look.
And sometimes she knows there’s even more to it than that.
----------
Not many people would describe Pepper as a risk-taker. She’s far too practical, far too controlled, to enjoy the thrill of gambling the way Tony does.
But when she does gamble, she gambles big. She’s been gambling on Tony for over ten years, and that’s the biggest of all.
So when he’s run out of steam, talked about wanting and needing while not actually saying anything about love, but Pepper knows that’s what he meant, she gives in.
“I’m here,” she says. “I’m more than here.”
His expression changes, because he understands her language the way she understands his, though his eyes still look earnest, somehow. “You realize that doesn’t make a lot of sense, right? I mean, you are very here, but how can you -”
“Tony. Shut up.”
It’s always been easier to communicate to him without words, anyway.
----------
Pepper is warned in plenty of time to clear Tony’s schedule on the anniversary of his parents’ deaths. She is told to not expect to come to work at all that day, because Tony usually locks himself in his workshop and he’s unlikely to emerge until late the next day.
So when he calls her, asking if she minds coming over, it’s a real shock. She’s worked for him for six weeks and he’s never asked if she minds anything.
He’s not getting drunk, he’s actually working. The circles under his eyes suggest he’s been working on very little sleep, but he’s clearly been productive. He’s amiable enough, showing her some of the designs he’s working on, and explaining the tech behind it. She even understands some of it.
Eventually, they work their way around to the sitting area in the corner, and that’s when he opens a bottle of scotch, sharing it with her (she doesn’t bother to tell him that scotch isn’t really her liquor of choice; just gulps it down with him).
“What’re your parents like?” he asks, staring into his tumbler intently.
“Dad ran a travel agency; Mom was an art teacher. Dad died of pancreatic cancer about five years ago. Mom died of a stroke two years after that.”
His mouth twists slightly as he says, “I’m sorry.”
“So am I. They were very good people. I hope I’m half as good as they were.”
That’s when his gaze slides to her face, and he tilts his head slightly. She’s never been looked at in quite that manner before. Like she’s one of his machines.
“You are,” he finally says.
“You don’t know that. You didn’t know them, and you barely know me.”
He shrugs. “I will.”
“That’s quite a risk you’re taking, Mr. Stark.”
“I’d say it’s an even bigger one for you, Miss Potts.” His eyes suddenly have that playful gleam she’d seen the first time they met. “Fun, isn’t it?”