Fic: Minigolf (Tony/Pepper)
Title: Minigolf
Prompt: Pepperony 200, #192. Minigolf
Rating: PG-13 (mild language)
Word Count: 750
Summary: Pre-movie. Tony (slowly) starts to realize what he’s missing.
Author's Note: A bit more light-hearted :) One-shot.
This is ridiculous. It’s so ridiculous that it actually takes ridiculousness to an entirely new level, and not for the first time in the past twenty minutes, Pepper decides that someone needs to voice that opinion, since she seems to be the only sane one left in this group.
“This is ridiculous.”
“Oh, come on, Potts, lighten up.” Tony swings his putter, coming within inches of hitting Happy in the back of the head, but neither man even seems to register that. Pepper flinches, but her boss just keeps going. “Didn’t you just say we’re ahead of schedule? If the Japanese hit poor weather on their way over, might as well take advantage of it.”
“Their being behind schedule doesn’t mean we need to take half an hour out of your day--which is packed, already, I might remind you--to do...” She trails off, looking around at the rather dingy miniature golf course, and flinches slightly. There’s no possible place to conceal themselves from the paparazzi, should they come calling. “This. It’s entirely unnecessary.”
“Of course it’s unnecessary, Potts, it’s entertainment. Meant to entertain, from the Latin intertenere, or to hold inside. It means doing something entirely unnecessary for the purpose of having a damn good time, in case you’ve lost your dictionary.”
She gapes at him for a few seconds too long, because she’s the Liberal Arts major here and he’d just pulled out a Latin derivation on her. “Mr. Stark,” she manages after a moment, but he’s already holding out another putter and a neon pink golf ball. A tiny scowl furrows her brow. “No. That would take this from unnecessary to entirely inappropriate.”
“Inappropriate--Potts!” Tony’s eyes are wide and guileless. “I’m respectfully inviting you to participate in a popular summer pasttime. This isn’t sexual harassment.” He’s incapable of being serious when he’s in one of these moods, and she knows it, waiting. She’s not disappointed. “What would be ridiculous would be for you and Happy to follow me around while I play miniature golf with myself. That wouldn’t attract any attention at all, would it, Pepper?”
His grin is teasing and a bit infectious, and she can feel herself starting to cave. “Fine,” she mutters, snatching the iron from his hand a tad too violently. “But you’re buying us all ice cream after we’re done.”
“Already planned on it.” Tony exchanges a quicksilver grin with his bodyguard-slash-driver, who had simply shaken his head ‘no’ when offered a club... and who hadn’t had to argue at all. Pepper bites back a very unprofessional glower and steps to the beginning of the first green when Tony gestures. “Ladies first, Miss Potts.”
“Why thank you, Mr. Stark.” She looks down at the club in her hands, then at the (rather long) distance between her hands and the ground. Behind her, Tony withholds a smirk at the prospect of watching her bend over in those heels for half an hour. But to his surprise, his prim and proper assistant calmly toes off her heels, setting them aside for a moment.
She settles her weight on the rough turf, digging in her toes and swinging a few times to get her balance. But Tony can’t look away from the pair of long, elegant feet resting on the green, toenails painted bright red. She swings one more time and then putts; the ball sails straight down the middle of the green, ending up inches from the hole, and she beams, straightening and glancing back at Tony with a raised brow. “Your turn.”
Swallowing hard, he nods and takes her place as she saunters barefoot the rest of the way down the strip of turf, shoes dangling from one finger, and hopping up barefoot onto the bricks lining the green. He’s struck, for a brief second, by the idea of her walking around his house that way, or strolling along his beach while he surfs... and wonders how that can possibly be sexier than anything he’s seen for a long, long time.
His first stroke sends his ball the entire way down, right past hers, to bounce off the green and into the foul-smelling water alongside.
Prompt: Pepperony 200, #192. Minigolf
Rating: PG-13 (mild language)
Word Count: 750
Summary: Pre-movie. Tony (slowly) starts to realize what he’s missing.
Author's Note: A bit more light-hearted :) One-shot.
This is ridiculous. It’s so ridiculous that it actually takes ridiculousness to an entirely new level, and not for the first time in the past twenty minutes, Pepper decides that someone needs to voice that opinion, since she seems to be the only sane one left in this group.
“This is ridiculous.”
“Oh, come on, Potts, lighten up.” Tony swings his putter, coming within inches of hitting Happy in the back of the head, but neither man even seems to register that. Pepper flinches, but her boss just keeps going. “Didn’t you just say we’re ahead of schedule? If the Japanese hit poor weather on their way over, might as well take advantage of it.”
“Their being behind schedule doesn’t mean we need to take half an hour out of your day--which is packed, already, I might remind you--to do...” She trails off, looking around at the rather dingy miniature golf course, and flinches slightly. There’s no possible place to conceal themselves from the paparazzi, should they come calling. “This. It’s entirely unnecessary.”
“Of course it’s unnecessary, Potts, it’s entertainment. Meant to entertain, from the Latin intertenere, or to hold inside. It means doing something entirely unnecessary for the purpose of having a damn good time, in case you’ve lost your dictionary.”
She gapes at him for a few seconds too long, because she’s the Liberal Arts major here and he’d just pulled out a Latin derivation on her. “Mr. Stark,” she manages after a moment, but he’s already holding out another putter and a neon pink golf ball. A tiny scowl furrows her brow. “No. That would take this from unnecessary to entirely inappropriate.”
“Inappropriate--Potts!” Tony’s eyes are wide and guileless. “I’m respectfully inviting you to participate in a popular summer pasttime. This isn’t sexual harassment.” He’s incapable of being serious when he’s in one of these moods, and she knows it, waiting. She’s not disappointed. “What would be ridiculous would be for you and Happy to follow me around while I play miniature golf with myself. That wouldn’t attract any attention at all, would it, Pepper?”
His grin is teasing and a bit infectious, and she can feel herself starting to cave. “Fine,” she mutters, snatching the iron from his hand a tad too violently. “But you’re buying us all ice cream after we’re done.”
“Already planned on it.” Tony exchanges a quicksilver grin with his bodyguard-slash-driver, who had simply shaken his head ‘no’ when offered a club... and who hadn’t had to argue at all. Pepper bites back a very unprofessional glower and steps to the beginning of the first green when Tony gestures. “Ladies first, Miss Potts.”
“Why thank you, Mr. Stark.” She looks down at the club in her hands, then at the (rather long) distance between her hands and the ground. Behind her, Tony withholds a smirk at the prospect of watching her bend over in those heels for half an hour. But to his surprise, his prim and proper assistant calmly toes off her heels, setting them aside for a moment.
She settles her weight on the rough turf, digging in her toes and swinging a few times to get her balance. But Tony can’t look away from the pair of long, elegant feet resting on the green, toenails painted bright red. She swings one more time and then putts; the ball sails straight down the middle of the green, ending up inches from the hole, and she beams, straightening and glancing back at Tony with a raised brow. “Your turn.”
Swallowing hard, he nods and takes her place as she saunters barefoot the rest of the way down the strip of turf, shoes dangling from one finger, and hopping up barefoot onto the bricks lining the green. He’s struck, for a brief second, by the idea of her walking around his house that way, or strolling along his beach while he surfs... and wonders how that can possibly be sexier than anything he’s seen for a long, long time.
His first stroke sends his ball the entire way down, right past hers, to bounce off the green and into the foul-smelling water alongside.