fic: Succession, 1/2 -- Iron Man

[amonitrate]

Okay, I can't believe I finished this in time for Halloween night. This is entirely unbeta'd crack.

Warnings: an array of wrong and dub con, possibly shading into non con. I'd be happy to supply more specific warnings, just PM me.

Summary: Will Tony and Pepper survive the changes to their relationship after the explosion at the arc reactor? Crossover with Dollhouse. If you need a basic rundown, see here. I squicked myself and the Hive while writing this, if that tells you anything.

Succession

"But you'll die!"

"Just do it!"

And she did.



He was lying in the rubble of the arc reactor, a S.H.I.E.L.D. extraction crew going to town on the last bits of Mark III encasing him, an I.V. already in one arm, as he watched the paramedics try to drag Pepper away.

"No, no, I'm fine," she said, brushing them off.

"You're bleeding," Tony managed.

Pepper absently touched her forehead, her neck, where she'd been scratched by flying glass. "Oh."

"Miss Potts, I insist," Agent Coulson took her elbow, gentleman-like, and urged her back towards the medics.

"No, really, it's nothing--"

"It'll only take a moment."

"But Tony--"

"Mr. Stark will be fine, but you should get checked out," Coulson said.

One of the medics appeared on her other side. "If you'll just let us treat you--"

Pepper's head tilted to the side, her eyes narrowed. "I think a band aid will suffice."

The medic took a hold of her wrist, taking her pulse. "You were in an explosion, you should really come for a treatment now, Miss Potts."

Another medic leaned over Tony, fiddling with his I.V. These guys from S.H.I.E.L.D. all looked like they'd been grown in a lab somewhere. Nondescript Feds 'R Us.

"Is she gonna be okay?" he rasped.

"Of course," the medic said as everything started to blur around him. "Next time you see her, she'll be better than new."

Tony Stark was a problem. He'd been a problem since he was seven years old. He was erratic, irresponsible, completely hopeless with money, and was possibly the greatest mind of the last forty years. And what Obadiah Stane was, more than a financial whiz and steady hand at the rudder of Stark Industries, was a fixer. A very highly paid fixer.

It didn't take a genius to see that Tony had been in love with his assistant for years. It didn't take a genius to see that said assistant didn't intend on ever taking advantage of that fact. It didn't even take a genius to see how solving this little problem would be to the advantage of everyone involved, but especially to Stane himself. What did take genius was making it happen.

"Hurry it along? You don't hurry along a masterpiece. Do you skip to the end of Beethoven's ninth? No, you let it play out. The art is in the whole, in the journey. That's how this works. If you skip the middle part, bam, you're right in the middle of creepy love potion territory. This is science, not the majicks. Besides, that love potion thing always goes really wrong in the movies."

"Topher. Mr. Stane is a client of long standing. I think we can do as he asks. Unless, of course, you don't think you can--"

"Of course I can do it. But should I? Why's he so impatient, anyway? From everything he's said, it's playing out just as I--"

"It doesn't matter why. What matters is the technology he's supplied us with. Supplied you with, I might point out. And it's not such a big thing, is it? Just a tweak."

"A tweak. A tweak? This is delicate stuff here. The original personality, kept intact, with adjustments to specifications -- sounds easy, right? But as I told you at the time, working from scratch would have been simpler, and guaranteed the outcome. I told you it might take longer if I didn't do a full wipe, I told you that every time I mess with the original personality, the probability of resistance increases."

"He speaks very highly of you, you know."

"Stane? He's a stuffed suit with a pet genius."

"It's a small thing, and due to the short notice he's paying twice the usual fee. You'll have forty minutes to work. Will this be enough time?"

"Forty minutes? I can barely eat lunch in forty minutes, let alone... When's delivery?"

"Two hours. Hogan needs to have her at the tarmac for Stark's homecoming. Stane insists."

"Your eyes are red. Tears for your long lost boss?"

Her nose was red, too, and her hair was an unflattering shade of orange in the sun, but he didn't mention that. He'd given her an opening he was counting on her not to take.

She lifted her chin, obliging. "Tears of joy. I hate job hunting."

Good girl, he thought, looking past her to Hogan, standing unsmiling like some kind of spook by the car.

"Yeah, well, vacation's over."

She turned and waited for him to pass, then followed him to the car.

Happy Hogan watched Stane wheel up on his ridiculous Segway and tossed his cigarette to the pavement. Stane waited to speak until his back was to the glass walls separating them from where Tony stood by the arc reactor.

"The imprint go well?"

It wasn't like Tony was paying any attention. Or could read lips, if he was. But Stane had the kind of paranoia that powerful men developed as a reflex. It was too bad no one had ever taught Tony the trick.

"I haven't seen a difference, sir."

Stane's lips quirked. "That means it went well. Pepper going back to the house with him tonight?"

"I don't think so."

"Convince her otherwise."

Then he handed off his Segway and waltzed inside after the prodigal son. And when Happy tried to convince her that maybe Tony needed looking after on his first night back, it was Tony himself who demurred.

"What's the point of all this? I mean, don't get me wrong, from a neurological standpoint it's fascinating work, I'm not complaining -- the implications for further application are just about infinite -- but I guess I just don't see the why of it."

"He's paying us. That's all the why you've ever needed before this."

"Yeah, but I gotta understand the motivation. Otherwise I might miss something. I mean, ordering up this kind of thing for yourself I totally get. But for some other lucky schmuck?"

"It's a gift, Topher. People do still give gifts. He's known Stark since he was a little boy. Maybe he fancies himself a match maker."

"Hell of a gift."

"Yes. And gifts are often given for a reason beyond the altruistic. But whatever that reason is for Stane, it's not for us to concern ourselves over."

He didn't know what to do with his hands. He hadn't been thinking, hadn't had any kind of plan, he'd just seen her there in that very un-Pepper like dress and decided they needed to dance. There'd been a moment where he was sure she was going to roll her eyes at him and shrug him off but she didn't and that moment shifted to one where neither of them was doing much breathing, and then they were outside, and she was in run-on sentence mode, and he wasn't even sure what the big deal was, and then she grabbed him and leaned in and something in his mind just went blank, like an erased hard drive. Nothing there. Null set. And then that moment passed and other things happened and it's not like he forgot about it, exactly, but there were more pressing things to take care of and then Obadiah was dead. Obadiah was dead and he was Iron Man and there were more pressing things to worry about than whether or not Pepper had meant to kiss him.

"DeWitt."

"Topher."

"I won't do it."

"Oh?"

"It doesn't make any kind of sense."

"He's left you the funds to build an entirely new lab."

"Our actives have a contract. This..."

"You don't think it will work?"

"It'll work. But someone will catch on. Stark will catch on. Won't he?"

"That's not something we need to worry about."

"It will be if it leads him to us."

"It won't."

"You're so sure?"

"We have insurance."

"Hogan?"

"Among others."

"Hogan won't like it."

"Hogan doesn't know what the new imprint entails. And Hogan will do as he's told."

"You're not Iron Man."

There was a smirk, a definite smirk. Tony grinned, half relieved at the normalcy of it, half buzzed on adrenalin, half still confused about the entire thing. Wait, that was three halves.

"If I were Iron Man, I'd have this girlfriend who knew my true identity. She'd be a wreck. She'd always be worrying I was going to die, yet so proud of the man I've become. She'd be wildly conflicted, which would only make her more crazy about me. Tell me you never think about that night?"

He waited, making sure not to bat his eyelashes at her, which would just be over the top.

"What night?" Pepper didn't do coy, but damn that was close.

What night? What night? What other night was there, besides last night, and he wasn't planning on doing any thinking about last night any time soon.

"You know."

That not-quite-coy look turned a shade calculated, not that you'd know from her tone. "Oh, are you talking about the night where we danced and went up to the roof, and you went downstairs to get me a drink and you left me there by myself?" Okay, so, yeah, even her tone had gained a point by the end, there.

"Uh-huh." Right. So maybe there wouldn't be any talking about that night either.

Pepper's smile went a tad smug, and if Pepper wasn't ever coy, she was smug even less often.

"Thought so. Will that be all, Mr. Stark?"

They didn't talk about that night on the balcony, or the explosion at the arc reactor, but she did start hanging around the workshop more, setting up her laptop in the sitting area on the big leather couch instead of upstairs.

If she was working later, he couldn't tell, because she'd been working twelve-plus hour days for years. But it seemed like she was around more. Or maybe he was just noticing when she was around more than he had before.

He'd catch her, sometimes, smiling at him when she didn't think he was looking. He wasn't sure what it meant, and he couldn't read the smile, and when he'd turn to smile back she didn't look away, or blush, or get flustered.

And when he'd return from a mission, ten to one she'd be there, with a mug of coffee and an open first aid kit. She never asked him where he went, and he never offered, but she always seemed to know when he'd get back.

It took Rhodey about two months after the press conference to cool down enough to actually come over to the house in his civvies and just hang.

"Ground rules, Tony," Rhodey said, about five seconds after he'd walked through the door. "I'm here as your friend. So no business. That means I don't ask you about whatever the hell you're doing with that battle armor of yours, and you don't ask me what the military thinks about whatever the hell you're doing with the armor."

"Wow. Hi to you too. How have you been? I've been just peachy."

"Tony." Pepper slipped into the living room from the kitchen, beer bottles in both hands. Two in one hand, one in the other. "Hi Jim, it's good to see you."

He'd thought she'd already left.

"Doesn't he ever let you go home?" Rhodey asked as he took one of the offered beers.

Tony glanced sidelong at her, but she had that Mona Lisa smile again as she handed him the second beer and kept the third for herself. The bottle was cold and a little slippery and she'd already popped the caps off. They were both staring at him now, so he plopped down on the couch, sprawling with one arm over the back.Rhodey settled into the leather slingback chair with a sigh, taking a long swallow of beer. Pepper circumnavigated the big wood table to join Tony on the couch. If she'd leaned back against the cushions he could have run his hand up the bare nape of her neck.

He couldn't take his eyes off of the rim of the bottle as it met her mouth. He'd never seen her drink anything other than a martini or the occasional glass of wine at client dinners.

"So what's there to talk about, if business is off limits?" Tony blurted out. Jim rolled his eyes.

"There's that time you stole a police car and put it on top of the Great Dome. It made the New York Times, didn't it?"

Rhodey made a noise unbecoming to an Air Force officer and sat up. "You told her about that? Man, you were lucky they only called Obadiah. Lucky he didn't tell your parents. How much money did it take to convince them not to expel you that time?"

Tony's eyes narrowed. "As I remember it, you were right there with me. Funny how no one called your parents."

"Forty grand," Pepper said with a toothy grin.

"What?" Tony sputtered. "It wasn't that much."

Pepper nodded, her beer bottle dangling idly from between two fingers. "Forty grand even."

"How do you even know that?" Rhodey managed, after he'd stifled his unmanly giggles.

"The things I know about Tony Stark could fill a book," Pepper said. "Two, even. A multivolume series."

"Good thing your lawyers make everyone sign that nondisclosure agreement, then," Rhodey said, pointing at Tony with his beer.

"Good thing," Tony said.

It wasn't like he'd meant to be celibate or anything, it had just sort of happened. When he'd first got back from Afghanistan there had been building the armor, and after that had been using the armor, and wrenching his company back from Obadiah's buddies on the board. Not much time for casual socializing.

And yeah, he thought about Pepper in an inappropriate manner sometimes when she wasn't around, and when she was around he tried not to think about anything, because he was sure she'd notice. Pepper noticed things. But Pepper had made her feelings on the issue pretty damn clear, and he'd been bored, and Jennifer was a lithe, raven-haired aspiring actress a dissertation shy of a PhD in the history of medieval warfare, and they'd spent four hours arguing over siege engines in Whiskey Blue with a side trip to the lady's room half way through where he got the chance to practice a few techniques that he'd been half afraid might have got rusty since Ms. Brown. Turned out it was just like riding a bike.

He'd never actually learned to ride a bike, but that's the phrase people used, so he supposed it was appropriate.

"I think that's your phone," Jennifer said, dipping a finger into her ridiculous Godiva martini. Most of the aspiring actresses in this place tended towards vodka, straight up.

"What?" His phone, right. He tore himself away from the historian's evil attempt to drink her martini the long way and stabbed at it without looking. "Yeah?"

"Tony! Oh, I wasn't sure I'd get through."

"Pepper?" His watch said one-forty five. In the A.M. "It's...really really late. What's up?"

"Nothing, nothing. I couldn't get a hold of you at the house, and Jarvis said you were out, and it's late, and I got a little worried when you didn't answer your phone the first time, so..."

"Oh," he said. Across from him, Jennifer cocked her head. Her bare foot ran up his calf. "Uh, I'm fine. Better than fine. I'll, uh..."

"Where are you?"

"Just... out. In L.A."

"Beso?"

"No. What's going on, Potts?"

"I was just surprised, is all. You haven't gone out much since you got back, and when I couldn't reach you..."

Jennifer's toes circled his knee. He reached under the table and grabbed her by the arch, his thumb at the ball of her foot. She grinned and the foot flexed in his hand. He'd stopped listening to Pepper, who was apparently still talking.

"...and you've got that meeting tomorrow with Oscorp so don't do the all night thing, okay? Who are you with?"

"A friend. I'll get some sleep, promise. Can I go now?"

He didn't wait for an answer. Just pocketed the phone and called for the check.

"Hogan. You're not due to check in for another month. Has something changed?"

"She's been acting... strange."

"Strange how, exactly? Topher hasn't mentioned any spikes in her vitals."

"She's different this time. I didn't notice at first, but... well, I think she's living in the house."

"In Stark's house, you mean? That is interesting. Did he invite her?"

"That's just it. I don't think he's even noticed."

"But otherwise? Anything we should know about?"

"No... it's hard to explain. She's just different."

"That was the entire point of this operation, Mr. Hogan. You agreed to the position knowing your charge would undergo a few changes."

"I know, but--"

"Have they become involved? Stark and Potts?"

"Not that I've seen."

"Well, I'd be surprised if they did, at this point. But keep us informed, yes?"

"Yeah. Alright."

He'd been tinkering in the workshop all day when Pepper tapped his shoulder.

"You haven't eaten since yesterday, as far as I can tell. I've made us reservations. Go get cleaned up," she said, all business.

Reservations happened to be at Beso, in Hollywood. Definitely more upscale than their usual on the fly supper. When Happy dropped them off, Tony turned a raised brow on Pepper, who just smiled.

"I thought we needed a change of pace," she said.

"We could split the porterhouse," Tony offered, once they'd been seated.

"I'll have the scallops," Pepper told their waiter. Tony ended up with paella.

The first time Pepper's fingers brushed his, he glanced up quickly, surprised, but she hadn't seemed to have noticed. A glass of wine later, she punctuated some point by covering his hand where it lay on the tablecloth with hers, and let the touch linger, before pulling away to take another sip from her glass. So when she spoke, and it wasn't directed at him, he was more than a little thrown.

"Ms. Everhart. This is a surprise."

Tony glanced up from his plate to find Christine Everhart seated at the small table closest to their booth, dressed to the nines in a sleek white minidress with a fitted jacket.

"Maybe I could join you?" Everhart asked sweetly.

"Oh, I don't think that would be at all appropriate," Pepper said, casually pleasant.

"I only need a minute," Everhart said to Tony, ignoring Pepper. She stood up from her table and slid into the booth next to Tony and he scooted over without thinking about it because she was wearing the same perfume she'd had on at the benefit. "I've been trying to schedule an interview with you for weeks, but somehow you never have time."

"What's this about?" he glanced at Pepper, who wasn't giving anything away.

"I helped you out once, Stark. I think you can return the favor. I need some information, and I'm hitting dead ends everywhere I look."

Pepper sat back. "You have five minutes before I call security."

"Fair enough," Everhardt flashed a grin, then turned her earnest reporter face on him. "I'm investigating the Rossum corporation's ties to an illegal, black market organization called the Dollhouse. But Rossum's more secretive than Blackwater. An F.B.I. agent on their trail was suddenly fired and then vanished, about six months ago. I've seen the files he left behind, and it's not much to go on. But I'm hoping you might have had contact with Rossum. Or even the Dollhouse. It's your kind of place."

"My kind of...." Tony grinned. "It sounds like a brothel." Pressing Ms. Brown's buttons was always an adventure. Under the table, the toe of Pepper's shoe impacted his ankle in precisely the right angle to elicit the most pain.

Everhart continued, in no mood to let him push her buttons. "It is a brothel, more or less. Very high end, very expensive, very hush hush. The F.B.I. suspected some form of trafficking, at least until the entire investigation was disappeared."

Tony shifted in his seat. Pepper had folded her hands, watching Everhart.

"I've heard of them, of course. Of Rossum, I mean. I think we had a contract to sell them medical imaging technology. But that was probably ten years ago, now."

"And the Dollhouse?" Everhart pressed.

"Rumors, maybe. Locker room bragging. Frankly, I thought it was an urban legend."

"No one's ever approached you?"

Tony frowned. "Why would they? It's not like I'm ever wanting for... company."

Everhart cocked her head, considering him. Her thigh was warm against his, and she was wearing her hair down the way she had the first time she interrogated him in public. He stared back. What was she looking for, exactly? Did she think he was lying?

"They specialize in giving their clients what they want. Fantasies, no matter how elaborate or detailed or... realistic. You want a girl to fall in love with you and mean it? An exact recreation of your high school sweetheart?"

"He didn't have a high school sweetheart," Pepper pointed out, and the indulgent tone was odd, but she really hated getting ambushed by the press. "Hard to do when you skip high school."

"I... get the point," Tony said. Pepper wasn't smiling, but she wasn't kicking Everhart to the door, either, and it had been much longer than five minutes. Or it felt that way. "Sorry. It sounds to me like you know more about them than I do at this point."

Everhart gave him a sharp nod, disappointment clear in the set of her jaw.

"What about Stane?" she asked, just when he'd thought she was going to leave.

"What about him?" Pepper shot back. She'd lost all pretense at humoring the reporter. Tony wasn't sure he blamed her.

"Did he have any involvement with Rossum?"

Tony shrugged. "Maybe. I didn't exactly keep track of his personal business." And he was still paying for it.

"I assume you've looked into Rossum's investors," Pepper said.

Everhart nodded. "Rossum isn't publicly traded. I've got a few leads, but Stane invested heavily in biotechnology. So--"

"I can check with his estate," Pepper said with a tight smile.

Everhart blinked. "Thank you."

She fished a card from her purse and slid it across the table top to Pepper. As if they didn't already have all of her personal information on file from the first time she'd just happened to run into him in public. Naivete or ingrained professionalism? Tony couldn't decide.

With that, Everhart unfolded herself from the booth, straightening her jacket. "I'm sure I'll run into you again soon," she said, and dropping a fifty on her untouched table, headed for the door.

"Well," Pepper said, once they were in the back of the Rolls. "I wonder what she thinks she's onto?"

Tony shrugged. "Who cares?"

"And if Obadiah was involved somehow?" Pepper said, toying with the cuffs of her jacket.

"Like I said. Who cares? I have enough on my plate already, cleaning up the mess he left behind. Let Everhardt deal with Rossum."

"They did buy Stark technology," Pepper pointed out. "If Rossum is involved in the Dollhouse, if it exists, that might make us look bad."

"We sold them a glorified MRI ten years ago. I don't see how that's relevant to some kind of luxury bordello."

Pepper nodded.

"Look," he said, taking the opportunity to watch the neon drift by outside the window. "I've been meaning to ask you something."

"Yes?"

"Don't take this the wrong way. I mean, I'm glad and everything, but I think I need to know."

"Tony," Pepper said, even and patient. "Spit it out, whatever it is."

He took a breath. "Why didn't you leave, back when you said you would?" He couldn't help it; he turned to see her reaction. Which was pointless, because she didn't react. Much.

She tilted her head. "I think you already know."

"Pretend I'm not a genius," he said.

Pepper smiled, her hand finding his, warm and smooth. "Oh, Tony. You always did need everything spelled out for you."

With that she leaned in, her hand slipping to curve around his thigh, and what the hell was she doing? Tony tried to pull away but her other hand cupped his jaw, and then she was half in his lap, one of her legs between his, her knee nudging his crotch, pressing him back against the seat.

"Pepper..." It came out more like a squeak. "What're you..."

Her hands gripped his hair, and what the fuck she was kissing him, no ambiguity this time. He was too shocked to respond at first, his hands curled at his sides. When he didn't kiss her back, she made a little sound in her throat and then her teeth sunk into his bottom lip, hard.

Tony found something to do with his hands. He grabbed her shoulders and shoved.

"Ow," he said, the back of his hand brushing his lip, coming away smeared red.

Pepper pulled away, smiling, and sat back in her own seat. Like nothing had happened.

"Hogan, this had better not become a regular thing."

"I want to bring her in, DeWitt."

"The imprint isn't holding? Have there been side effects?"

"I don't know. No. But why does it matter now? Stane's dead. Shouldn't we--"

"His wishes on this matter were very specific."

"But she didn't agree to any of this. She doesn't even know it's happened, and neither does Tony. How do we know she'd be making the choices she's making if--"

"If she was herself? Mr. Hogan, it's very chivalrous of you to protect Miss Potts' honor this way, but we signed a contract with Mr. Stane. And she signed a contract with him as well, whether she read the fine print or not. Potts isn't to be restored until we receive word."

"Word? He's dead. Who's going to give you word?"

"While I appreciate your concern, I assure you the situation is under control. If you find it distasteful, you can be relieved of your duties and go back to being Mr. Stark's driver."

"No. You don't need to do that."

"Then we understand one another?"

"Yeah. I got it."

"Good."

Scotch seemed like the best course of action under the circumstances. After a couple of tumblers full, Tony was ready to laugh at himself for freaking out in the Rolls. Just because Pepper had kissed him. Hadn't he been the one lobbying for her to be some kind of loyal superhero's girlfriend?

Somehow the loyal girlfriend biting him in the back of his own car hadn't been what he'd had in mind. Not that he didn't go for that kind of thing; he did. But this was Pepper, and just a couple of months ago she'd protested dancing with him in public, and tonight she'd jumped him out of nowhere, and his mouth still hurt.

He downed more scotch, and the bite stopped throbbing, or he stopped feeling it throb, and his bed was large and empty and cool.

Not nearly enough time later he woke to the sound of rain.

Tony sat up. The floor to ceiling windows lit up automatically, revealing crystalline blue skies and miles and miles of sunlit ocean. Jarvis rattled off the weather forecast and the surfing conditions.

Not a raincloud in sight.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stared at his bare knees. He hadn't had that much to drink -- where had his pants gone? He was still wearing his dress shirt from last night, and his fitted boxers, but his pants were... folded neatly on the end of the bed.

Huh.

And it was still raining. Or. It still sounded like rain. No, no. Not rain at all, but--

Maybe after last night he shouldn't have been surprised to find Pepper lathering herself up in his shower. It wasn't like his shower left anything to the imagination -- he'd never seen the point of modesty in his own bathroom, so the enclosure was pristine glass, barely fogged by steam.

Her hair was a darker rose-bronze under the water, slicked back from her forehead. Without the armor of her suits she was small breasted and lithe. One slim hand pressed between her thighs, fingers disappearing, and her back arched, her ribs moving under wet skin.

Christ.

When he finally met her eyes, she was smiling that unreadable smile, her unoccupied hand cupping one breast.

"Good morning," she said.

"Jarvis, shut off the water." he managed.

"To the entire house, sir?"

Pepper let out a laugh. "Just the master bathroom," she clarified for him.

It was a mistake. Once the shower cut off he could hear her breathing, hear the wet sound her fingers were making.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Tony, really, you used to be smarter than this. What does it look like I'm doing?"

"It looks like my assistant is naked in my shower."

Her lips quirked. "Wasn't this what you wanted? Or was that speech you laid on me a couple of months ago just about a chaste lady and her chivalrous knight?"

"I don't--"

"Subtlety wasn't working. I tried subtle for years. I thought it would be obvious, after you got back from Afghanistan, but you were so wrapped up in your armor you barely noticed I was there. So," she shrugged. Slipped out of the shower and onto the ceramic tile floor, beads of water running down her flushed skin and pooling around her manicured feet. "I decided to step things up a bit."

"Pepper, this isn't-- I know things have been stressful, I know I've put you through a lot of--"

"You're not a subtle guy, Tony. Never have been." She took the last step into his space, and he scooted backwards, tripping over his own feet. "Jesus Christ, do you need an engraved invitation? What's the problem?"

His back hit the wall, his shirt already clinging to his skin from the steam. "Pepper--"

"Tony." She pressed against him, one hand curling around the base of his neck, the other smoothing down his hip to cup his ass. "You know you want this."

He didn't know what he wanted. She was warm and solid and her tongue found the hollow of his throat and wasn't this what he wanted? He'd thought it was. But there were rules about what one did with one's personal assistant, with anyone on one's payroll, and he was pretty sure this violated about thirty of them.

"When did you get so uptight?" Pepper said into his collarbone, her fingers working at the buttons of his shirt.

"Around the time you bit me with no warning?" he muttered, and she laughed, the fingers of her other hand digging into the spot where his ass met his thigh.

"I know for a fact you're a biter, so don't give me that. All those girls, so proud of how you marked them."

This wasn't how it was supposed to be. Tony tried to pull away, but she was stronger than she looked and her thigh was between his legs and he was such an idiot.

"Let go, Pepper." It shouldn't have come out like such a plea.

"No," she said, and then the back of his head hit the wall because she grabbed his dick through his boxers and squeezed.

"I don't want to... I don't want to hurt you," he choked, one of his hands coming up to push at her shoulder, but her skin was wet and he was sweating and she slid out of his grip like a debauched mermaid.

"What if I want you to hurt me?"

"Fuck," he managed, shoving at her one more time.

"That's the entire idea. You are incredibly slow on the uptake sometimes." And then she stopped talking, because her teeth and tongue were busy at his throat, and her hand had worked its way past the waistband of his boxers, and his dick wasn't at all worried about what his head did or didn't want.

His back stung. Tony leaned on the balcony outside his bedroom and let the constant ocean breeze hold him up. His back stung and he felt like he'd been disjointed and the sun was full on hot but he was shivering, just a little.

"You always did love the ocean."

He didn't turn but bare skin brushed the skin of his back and then Pepper was standing next to him, something in her hands. There was a familiar metallic flick and he couldn't help it, he glanced at her sidelong to find her lighting a cigar, as naked as he was. Well, almost. His discarded tie from the night before was draped over her neck, the ends dipping down between her breasts.

"Found it in your nightstand." She took a puff of the cigar and then held it out to him. "Here."

He took the cigar, welcoming the harsh smoke in his throat, the slight dizzy thrill of nicotine.

"This wasn't what I thought it would be," he said, not at all sure what he was trying to say.

Pepper took the cigar from him and pulled a long draw, blowing a perfect stream of smoke between her lips. "What did you think it would be? Roses and candlelight? Maybe a daring rescue before hand?" She let out a bright peal of laughter. "I never would have pegged you for a romantic, Tony."

"I'm not."

"Aren't you?" Pepper wasn't the best mimic, but he recognized his own words when he heard them. "'She'd always be worrying I was going to die, yet so proud of the man I've become.'"

She passed back the cigar and he was grateful to have something to do with his hands that didn't involve touching her.

"Are you?" he asked.

"Am I what?" They were facing each other again, his hip against the railing.

"Proud."

She reached out and ran her fingertips lightly over the arc reactor.

"I saved your life, didn't I?"

And then she sunk to her knees, and whatever he'd hoped she'd say fragmented.

"What the hell were you thinking, fucking Pepper? She works for you."

Maybe he should have called first. He'd shown up at Rhodey's door bearing Korean barbecue and enough vodka to anesthetize an elephant but apparently that wasn't quite enough to convince Rhodey to take his side. If there were sides. He still wasn't sure about that part.

"It wasn't my idea," Tony insisted. "It just--"

"Happened?" Rhodey had given up the pretense of eating and was just staring at him. "Your dick just happened to--"

"Yeah. Pretty much. Look, she started it. I guess I wasn't thinking, I don't know what I was thinking. I don't know what she was thinking. It was definitely a mutual session of not thinking at all."

"She works for you, Tony."

This was going so well. He'd forgotten what it felt like, to be fifteen years old and trying to explain himself. But Rhodey wasn't his goddamn advisor at MIT.

"You already said that. Look, I didn't... She was in my shower, okay? I think she's moved into that suite Obie used to stay in. Her stuff is in the dresser. And I know for a fact that room has its own shower, and there are three other showers she could have picked if for some bizarre reason that one wasn't working. But I woke up and she was in mine, and my pants were gone, and did I mention she bit me the other night?"

At that, Rhodey flat out lost it. Guffawing like a lunatic, like Tony had brought this to him to brighten his fucking day.

"Glad you find this so hilarious."

"You just sound... a little weirded out, is all. What's the big deal?"

Tony stabbed at a piece of meat with his fork until it fell into pieces. "Well, as you just pointed out repeatedly, she does work for me. I mean, if the company didn't require that kind of thing to be arbitrated in-house, she could sue me for sexual harassment, right?"

"I don't know about that, since she's the one who showed up in your shower." Rhodey took a shot of vodka, straight, at that, and Tony followed his lead. "Look, yeah, it's not the smartest move you've ever made, but it's not like you haven't been mooning over her for years.What're you complaining about?"

The vodka burned on the way down. "Mooning? What, are we in the fifties now?"

"I've known you since the only action you ever got was your own hand. So yeah, I recognize mooning when I see it. Did you ask her about it?"

"About what?" What this conversation needed was more vodka. Rhodey obliged, pouring them both double shots.

"Moving into your house. And the shower. And the biting." And finally, finally, Rhodey looked the tiniest bit like he was giving it all some thought. "It is a bit... out of character."

"I started to, and that conversation ended in screaming, and not the angry kind, so yeah. Not so much."

"That's... enough detail, thanks. So what're you going to do?"

Drink more vodka. "I dunno. I mean, it's Pepper. Right? Two months ago she gave me the 'You're not my Iron Man' line, so forgive me if I'm a little confused."

"Maybe she got tired of waiting for you to calculate the equation for the removal of your head from your ass."

Apparently the moment where Rhodey took him seriously was short lived.

"Great. Thanks. So you're telling me I got what I asked for so I should shut up already and enjoy it?"

"More or less, yeah. Look, if you don't want her living with you, just ask her to leave."

Turned out, there wasn't enough vodka in the world for this conversation.

"Real chivalrous," he muttered.

"What?"

"Never mind."

"You've got a reporter snooping around after you, Ms. DeWitt."

"Is this a secure connection?"

"Of course it is. Do you take me for an amateur?"

"No. But it's highly irregular for you to contact me in this way. Hogan informed me of Stark's little run-in with Christine Everhart. She's got nothing."

"She's resourceful. She gets information she shouldn't have access to. People talk to her."

"No one is going to talk to her about the Dollhouse."

"So your plan is to what? Let her play Nancy Drew until she gets bored?"

"If it comes to it, our pet F.B.I. agent can make a surprise reappearance and explain that the whole thing was a hoax."

"Oh, Adelle. You really are naive, aren't you? That'll just make Everhart dig deeper. She's a fucking terrier, that one."

"So what do you propose we do about the problem?"

"I'm not proposing anything. But you should know she's made a connection between Rossum and Stane."

"Playing a hunch. Will she find anything?"

"Of course not. But I can't guarantee Tony won't, if he gets off his ass long enough to look."

"So make sure he's distracted. Wasn't that the idea? As far as Everhart goes, we'll take care of it. We wouldn't want you to risk exposing yourself."

"How do I know you won't just pull Potts in for another 'treatment' and get rid of the problem that way?"

"You've been very generous to us over the years."

"That's not an answer."

"No, it's not."

"You try anything we haven't agreed on, there'll be repercussions."

"I don't doubt it. Now, if there's nothing else, we have a very busy schedule."

part two