'interview process' - iron man movieverse - tony, pepper
Title: Interview Process
Fandom: Iron Man movieverse
Pairing: none (Tony, Pepper)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Language, emotional blackmail, dubious business practice.
Summary: How Pepper got the job. Maybe.
‘In the Chinese’. Eight letters. Seventh letter ‘i’.
Pepper glances up from the crossword she’s been not doing for the last fifteen minutes. The girl with the killer legs and the expensive dye-job sitting across from her is still flicking absently through the copy of People she found on the coffee table. Tony Stark smiles at Pepper from the front cover. Pepper wonders briefly if it’s a good or bad sign that the only publications gracing the waiting area of her possible future employer’s office are those which feature articles on him.
Unless it’s supposed to be an opportunity for research.
She decides not to think about it.
‘Eight letters,’ Pepper offers, ‘something about the Chinese. Seventh letter ‘i’.’
The girl looks up at the sound of Pepper’s voice, and Pepper waves her pen illustratively at the newspaper folded in her lap.
‘Oh,’ the blond says, blinking. ‘I’m not very good at those wordy things. Sorry.’
With that, she returns her attention to her magazine. Pepper watches her for a second or two, trying her best not to entertain unnecessary prejudices, then looks back down at the puzzle.
Of course. ‘In the Chinese’. M-A-N-
‘Miss. Potts?’
Pepper glances up in time to see a goddess in a pant-suit come sashaying out from behind the doors of the office, her Blahnicks trip-trapping on the floor, a quietly smug smile on her impeccably made-up lips.
Pepper follows her progress down the hall for a moment, then forces her attention back to the secretary who’d called her name.
‘Miss. Potts,’ she says, ‘Mr. Stark will see you now.’
Pepper stands, slipping her newspaper into her bag, and follows the secretary’s gesture inside.
The room is brighter, larger than she had expected. There’s a view of spires and low industrial buildings, and big black and white prints on the walls detailing Stark Industries’ history. Pepper’s eyes rest on a scale-model ground-to-air missile; a photograph of a classic car with flames painted on the bonnet; the mini-bar in one corner where Tony Stark is pouring himself a glass of what looks like scotch.
The air smells like expensive perfume on smooth tanned throats. The doors whisper shut behind her.
‘Drink?’
He glances back at her over his shoulder. There are lines on his face she hasn’t seen before; she supposes they airbrush them out in the magazines. He smiles.
‘Oh. Um.. no,’ she replies, momentarily thrown, ‘thank you, I don’t drink.. much.. during the day.’ She frowns a little. She can’t help herself. ‘You do know it’s three o’clock in the afternoon?’
‘Indeed I do,’ he says, placing the decanter back on the countertop and carrying his drink over to his desk where, still standing, he moves some papers aside with his fingertips and peers down at them.
‘Which is why I know you are.. are.. Miss..’ he narrows his eyes at the list, ‘Potts? Ah, yes.’ He smiles at her. ‘Virginia.’ He gives her a brief little toast. ‘Lovely name.’
‘Thank you. But.. please, Mr. Stark, call me Pepper. Only my mother calls me Virginia.’
‘Pepper,’ he repeats, tasting the word. He gestures at the chair closest to her, ice clinking against the sides of the glass in his hand. ‘Please sit, Pepper.’
Pepper does as bidden, placing her bag on the floor beside her.
‘So, Miss. Potts,’ Tony says, sliding into his own chair, glancing over at the computer screen beside him as he does so. He reaches out and taps a couple of keys, then returns his attention to her. ‘Why do you want to work for me?’
Pepper, who is used to these sorts of questions and, frankly, a little relieved to be finally getting onto familiar ground, straightens, gathering her hands in her lap.
‘Well,’ she begins, ‘as you can see from my resume, I have extensive experience in this area; for the last three years, I’ve worked almost exclusively for high-profile employers, acting as secretary and personal assistant as required. I have-’
‘I like that colour on you.’
Pepper, surprised, glances down at herself. ‘I- thank you.’
‘You’re welcome,’ Tony replies. He gestures at her with a tilt of his glass. ‘It brings out your eyes.’
‘Uh, thank you, Mr. Stark.’
‘Tony. Please.’
‘Thank you, Tony.’
He nods, and raises his drink to his lips. ‘Please continue, Pepper.’
It takes Pepper a moment to remember what she was talking about. ‘Um, I have extensive experience dealing with the media from a professional standpoint, and as you can see from my resume, I am highly qualified in managing the financial side.. of..’
The words die in her mouth. Tony’s eyes have wandered down her front and seem perfectly content to stay there. Uncomfortable, Pepper shifts in her chair. Clears her throat.
‘Mr. Stark.’
‘Hmm?’ He drags his gaze back to her face. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Miss. Potts.’ He waves a hand at her. ‘Do go on.’
Pepper fights to keep the anger she can feel bubbling under her ribcage from showing in her expression.
‘As you can see, Mr. Stark, I’m very highly qualified. I obtained my Master’s in Accounting at-’
‘Miss. Potts,’ Tony interrupts suddenly, ‘will you sleep with me?’
For the third time, Pepper stutters to a halt, staring at him.
‘I beg your pardon?’ She asks, hoping she’s misheard.
Tony swirls the melting ice in his glass and looks at her sideways, like it’s a perfectly reasonable question to have asked, like he’s discussing the weather or hockey scores.
‘Sleep with me. You know. Sex. Hypothetically, I mean. Not literally. Well, not right now, anyway. I don’t know about you, but I’ve got a meeting in half an hour-’
Pepper fumbles for speech, her stomach sour with anger and affront.
‘I- I- how dare you!’ She blurts out. ‘Please tell me this isn’t how you treat all your staff.’
He shrugs a little.
‘I can’t say it hasn’t worked out pretty well so far.’
Pepper draws in a breath, quite unable to form words.
‘You.. you.. well,’ she says, finally, ‘I don’t know what kind of company you’re running here, Mr. Stark, but.. but I won’t be a part of it. I’m a professional, Mr. Stark, and I won’t tolerate this kind of- of treatment.’ She reaches down to pick up her bag; stands. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to leave-’
‘Good for you,’ Tony interrupts, toasting her with his glass, leaning back in his chair. ‘Would you do me a favour? As you storm out, could you please tell the girl waiting outside that she’s no longer required? Except.. phrase it differently. Say something nice-’
‘I most certainly will-‘ Pepper pauses in the act of turning to leave as the words sink in, ‘not required? Why?’
‘Because,’ he sits up, ‘the position has been filled. Just now. As we were talking. By a very promising applicant with great..’ his gaze wanders downward for a second. He clears his throat. ‘Ability.’
It takes Pepper a moment to process this.
‘I- but you- I don’t want to work for you!’
‘Yes, you do,’ Tony replies, setting his glass down on the desk and reaching into his breast pocket for a cigarette.
‘No, I don’t!’ Pepper cries, exasperated. She says the first thing that comes to mind. ‘You’re.. you’re an insensitive sexist pig! Why should I work for you?’
‘Because,’ he says, placing the cigarette between his lips, ‘number one, you’re really very good looking. I do hope you realise that.’ He pauses for a beat, looking at her as she narrows her eyes at him. She opens her mouth to respond but he cuts her off.
‘Number two, you’ve already proven you’re going to be incredibly good at your job which is,’ he fishes a match out of the pot on the desk and points it at her, ‘let me remind you, to not take shit from anyone, even- and especially- me.’
He lights the match with a scrape of his thumbnail and holds it to the end of the cigarette, shaking it out with a practised flick of his wrist. Smoke plumes out on his breath, and a calmness settles in his eyes.
‘Number three, out of the twenty-one women I’ve interviewed today, you’re the first to call me a ‘sexist pig’ which I’m going to tell you now is..’ he thinks about it, ‘mostly.. untrue.’
He levels his gaze at her. ‘And number four, I won’t let you refuse.’
Pepper stares at him.
‘I- you- this is the most unprofessional interview I’ve ever-’
A smile eases its way onto his lips. ‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’
‘You.. you just-‘
‘Do you know how long I’ve been getting away with this, Miss. Potts?’ Tony looks at her steadily, his expression serious. He waves a hand, taking in the room; her affront; the entire situation in a single gesture. ‘This. All of it.’
Pepper, lost for words, shakes her head.
‘Well, I’ll tell you. For a long, long time I have.. been getting away with whatever I want, acting however I want,’ he continues. He plucks the cigarette out of his mouth and examines it, rolling it back and forth between his fingers. ‘Ever since my dad-,’ he pauses.
‘Ever since I can remember, I’ve been.. I don’t know. Above everyone else. Out of reach. No-one wants to risk their necks to stop me. I can’t.. No one’s willing to go that extra step, to pull me aside and say ‘Tony, that’s not nice, put that hooker down, we don’t do that.’ For god’s sake, I gave my entire fucking house a fucking personality just so someone would disagree with me once in a while-’
Something in his expression tightens, becomes hard, and he stops himself before he can continue. He looks back at her.
‘To answer your question, Miss. Potts, no, I don’t treat my staff like this, but I’ll have you know every single one of the women I’ve seen today didn’t dare turn me down when I propositioned them. Every. Single. One.’ He holds her gaze like it’s a life raft, and for the first time Pepper sees this for what it is.
‘Except you, Pepper. Every single one, except you. I need you. Someone like you, to tell me ‘no’, to stop me becoming..’ he frowns. ‘To stop me becoming something I don’t want to be.’ He sighs. ‘So.. yes, Pepper, you have the job. If you still want it.’
Pepper stands in front of him, trying to work out what she wants to say. Her mind is racing so fast she can barely keep up with it. Half of her is still insulted, deeply insulted, not just for her but for the girls who came before her, the girls he’s treated like this just because he can and because he wants to prove a point to himself. The other half is caught up in the darkness of his eyes, the way he’s looking at her, a strangely childlike honesty in his expression.
He needs her. Oh, god, she hardly knows him and he needs her so much.
Pepper pities him and hates him and wants to help him all at once, and she can’t for the life of her find the words to express it.
Three letters. Stars with ‘y’.
‘I.. I’ll think about it,’ she says, hating herself for being so pathetic, for getting so caught up.
Tony nods. ‘All right.’
Pepper turns a little, as if to go. She feels strangely disconnected, it’s happened too quickly, perhaps she’s still in the foyer and this is all a strange daydream-
‘And Miss. Potts?’
She looks back at him, sitting behind his desk, a lonely dark shape in front of the sunlit windows. His eyes meet hers.
‘Say ‘yes’.’
The carpet swallows her footsteps as she walks away.
Fandom: Iron Man movieverse
Pairing: none (Tony, Pepper)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Language, emotional blackmail, dubious business practice.
Summary: How Pepper got the job. Maybe.
‘In the Chinese’. Eight letters. Seventh letter ‘i’.
Pepper glances up from the crossword she’s been not doing for the last fifteen minutes. The girl with the killer legs and the expensive dye-job sitting across from her is still flicking absently through the copy of People she found on the coffee table. Tony Stark smiles at Pepper from the front cover. Pepper wonders briefly if it’s a good or bad sign that the only publications gracing the waiting area of her possible future employer’s office are those which feature articles on him.
Unless it’s supposed to be an opportunity for research.
She decides not to think about it.
‘Eight letters,’ Pepper offers, ‘something about the Chinese. Seventh letter ‘i’.’
The girl looks up at the sound of Pepper’s voice, and Pepper waves her pen illustratively at the newspaper folded in her lap.
‘Oh,’ the blond says, blinking. ‘I’m not very good at those wordy things. Sorry.’
With that, she returns her attention to her magazine. Pepper watches her for a second or two, trying her best not to entertain unnecessary prejudices, then looks back down at the puzzle.
Of course. ‘In the Chinese’. M-A-N-
‘Miss. Potts?’
Pepper glances up in time to see a goddess in a pant-suit come sashaying out from behind the doors of the office, her Blahnicks trip-trapping on the floor, a quietly smug smile on her impeccably made-up lips.
Pepper follows her progress down the hall for a moment, then forces her attention back to the secretary who’d called her name.
‘Miss. Potts,’ she says, ‘Mr. Stark will see you now.’
Pepper stands, slipping her newspaper into her bag, and follows the secretary’s gesture inside.
The room is brighter, larger than she had expected. There’s a view of spires and low industrial buildings, and big black and white prints on the walls detailing Stark Industries’ history. Pepper’s eyes rest on a scale-model ground-to-air missile; a photograph of a classic car with flames painted on the bonnet; the mini-bar in one corner where Tony Stark is pouring himself a glass of what looks like scotch.
The air smells like expensive perfume on smooth tanned throats. The doors whisper shut behind her.
‘Drink?’
He glances back at her over his shoulder. There are lines on his face she hasn’t seen before; she supposes they airbrush them out in the magazines. He smiles.
‘Oh. Um.. no,’ she replies, momentarily thrown, ‘thank you, I don’t drink.. much.. during the day.’ She frowns a little. She can’t help herself. ‘You do know it’s three o’clock in the afternoon?’
‘Indeed I do,’ he says, placing the decanter back on the countertop and carrying his drink over to his desk where, still standing, he moves some papers aside with his fingertips and peers down at them.
‘Which is why I know you are.. are.. Miss..’ he narrows his eyes at the list, ‘Potts? Ah, yes.’ He smiles at her. ‘Virginia.’ He gives her a brief little toast. ‘Lovely name.’
‘Thank you. But.. please, Mr. Stark, call me Pepper. Only my mother calls me Virginia.’
‘Pepper,’ he repeats, tasting the word. He gestures at the chair closest to her, ice clinking against the sides of the glass in his hand. ‘Please sit, Pepper.’
Pepper does as bidden, placing her bag on the floor beside her.
‘So, Miss. Potts,’ Tony says, sliding into his own chair, glancing over at the computer screen beside him as he does so. He reaches out and taps a couple of keys, then returns his attention to her. ‘Why do you want to work for me?’
Pepper, who is used to these sorts of questions and, frankly, a little relieved to be finally getting onto familiar ground, straightens, gathering her hands in her lap.
‘Well,’ she begins, ‘as you can see from my resume, I have extensive experience in this area; for the last three years, I’ve worked almost exclusively for high-profile employers, acting as secretary and personal assistant as required. I have-’
‘I like that colour on you.’
Pepper, surprised, glances down at herself. ‘I- thank you.’
‘You’re welcome,’ Tony replies. He gestures at her with a tilt of his glass. ‘It brings out your eyes.’
‘Uh, thank you, Mr. Stark.’
‘Tony. Please.’
‘Thank you, Tony.’
He nods, and raises his drink to his lips. ‘Please continue, Pepper.’
It takes Pepper a moment to remember what she was talking about. ‘Um, I have extensive experience dealing with the media from a professional standpoint, and as you can see from my resume, I am highly qualified in managing the financial side.. of..’
The words die in her mouth. Tony’s eyes have wandered down her front and seem perfectly content to stay there. Uncomfortable, Pepper shifts in her chair. Clears her throat.
‘Mr. Stark.’
‘Hmm?’ He drags his gaze back to her face. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Miss. Potts.’ He waves a hand at her. ‘Do go on.’
Pepper fights to keep the anger she can feel bubbling under her ribcage from showing in her expression.
‘As you can see, Mr. Stark, I’m very highly qualified. I obtained my Master’s in Accounting at-’
‘Miss. Potts,’ Tony interrupts suddenly, ‘will you sleep with me?’
For the third time, Pepper stutters to a halt, staring at him.
‘I beg your pardon?’ She asks, hoping she’s misheard.
Tony swirls the melting ice in his glass and looks at her sideways, like it’s a perfectly reasonable question to have asked, like he’s discussing the weather or hockey scores.
‘Sleep with me. You know. Sex. Hypothetically, I mean. Not literally. Well, not right now, anyway. I don’t know about you, but I’ve got a meeting in half an hour-’
Pepper fumbles for speech, her stomach sour with anger and affront.
‘I- I- how dare you!’ She blurts out. ‘Please tell me this isn’t how you treat all your staff.’
He shrugs a little.
‘I can’t say it hasn’t worked out pretty well so far.’
Pepper draws in a breath, quite unable to form words.
‘You.. you.. well,’ she says, finally, ‘I don’t know what kind of company you’re running here, Mr. Stark, but.. but I won’t be a part of it. I’m a professional, Mr. Stark, and I won’t tolerate this kind of- of treatment.’ She reaches down to pick up her bag; stands. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to leave-’
‘Good for you,’ Tony interrupts, toasting her with his glass, leaning back in his chair. ‘Would you do me a favour? As you storm out, could you please tell the girl waiting outside that she’s no longer required? Except.. phrase it differently. Say something nice-’
‘I most certainly will-‘ Pepper pauses in the act of turning to leave as the words sink in, ‘not required? Why?’
‘Because,’ he sits up, ‘the position has been filled. Just now. As we were talking. By a very promising applicant with great..’ his gaze wanders downward for a second. He clears his throat. ‘Ability.’
It takes Pepper a moment to process this.
‘I- but you- I don’t want to work for you!’
‘Yes, you do,’ Tony replies, setting his glass down on the desk and reaching into his breast pocket for a cigarette.
‘No, I don’t!’ Pepper cries, exasperated. She says the first thing that comes to mind. ‘You’re.. you’re an insensitive sexist pig! Why should I work for you?’
‘Because,’ he says, placing the cigarette between his lips, ‘number one, you’re really very good looking. I do hope you realise that.’ He pauses for a beat, looking at her as she narrows her eyes at him. She opens her mouth to respond but he cuts her off.
‘Number two, you’ve already proven you’re going to be incredibly good at your job which is,’ he fishes a match out of the pot on the desk and points it at her, ‘let me remind you, to not take shit from anyone, even- and especially- me.’
He lights the match with a scrape of his thumbnail and holds it to the end of the cigarette, shaking it out with a practised flick of his wrist. Smoke plumes out on his breath, and a calmness settles in his eyes.
‘Number three, out of the twenty-one women I’ve interviewed today, you’re the first to call me a ‘sexist pig’ which I’m going to tell you now is..’ he thinks about it, ‘mostly.. untrue.’
He levels his gaze at her. ‘And number four, I won’t let you refuse.’
Pepper stares at him.
‘I- you- this is the most unprofessional interview I’ve ever-’
A smile eases its way onto his lips. ‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’
‘You.. you just-‘
‘Do you know how long I’ve been getting away with this, Miss. Potts?’ Tony looks at her steadily, his expression serious. He waves a hand, taking in the room; her affront; the entire situation in a single gesture. ‘This. All of it.’
Pepper, lost for words, shakes her head.
‘Well, I’ll tell you. For a long, long time I have.. been getting away with whatever I want, acting however I want,’ he continues. He plucks the cigarette out of his mouth and examines it, rolling it back and forth between his fingers. ‘Ever since my dad-,’ he pauses.
‘Ever since I can remember, I’ve been.. I don’t know. Above everyone else. Out of reach. No-one wants to risk their necks to stop me. I can’t.. No one’s willing to go that extra step, to pull me aside and say ‘Tony, that’s not nice, put that hooker down, we don’t do that.’ For god’s sake, I gave my entire fucking house a fucking personality just so someone would disagree with me once in a while-’
Something in his expression tightens, becomes hard, and he stops himself before he can continue. He looks back at her.
‘To answer your question, Miss. Potts, no, I don’t treat my staff like this, but I’ll have you know every single one of the women I’ve seen today didn’t dare turn me down when I propositioned them. Every. Single. One.’ He holds her gaze like it’s a life raft, and for the first time Pepper sees this for what it is.
‘Except you, Pepper. Every single one, except you. I need you. Someone like you, to tell me ‘no’, to stop me becoming..’ he frowns. ‘To stop me becoming something I don’t want to be.’ He sighs. ‘So.. yes, Pepper, you have the job. If you still want it.’
Pepper stands in front of him, trying to work out what she wants to say. Her mind is racing so fast she can barely keep up with it. Half of her is still insulted, deeply insulted, not just for her but for the girls who came before her, the girls he’s treated like this just because he can and because he wants to prove a point to himself. The other half is caught up in the darkness of his eyes, the way he’s looking at her, a strangely childlike honesty in his expression.
He needs her. Oh, god, she hardly knows him and he needs her so much.
Pepper pities him and hates him and wants to help him all at once, and she can’t for the life of her find the words to express it.
Three letters. Stars with ‘y’.
‘I.. I’ll think about it,’ she says, hating herself for being so pathetic, for getting so caught up.
Tony nods. ‘All right.’
Pepper turns a little, as if to go. She feels strangely disconnected, it’s happened too quickly, perhaps she’s still in the foyer and this is all a strange daydream-
‘And Miss. Potts?’
She looks back at him, sitting behind his desk, a lonely dark shape in front of the sunlit windows. His eyes meet hers.
‘Say ‘yes’.’
The carpet swallows her footsteps as she walks away.