FIC: "The Man in the Red Suit" (2/2) - Iron Man movieverse (Tony/Pepper) - PG-13
Author's notes in Part One.
Friday evening, Pepper arrived at the venue hours ahead of time and secure one of the back maintenance rooms for Happy’s exclusive use. The “green room,” as she christened it, was barely larger than a cupboard, and fairly utilitarian-a couple of folding chairs, a laundry sink, a row of shelves housing various cleaning products-but it was quiet, and private, which made it ideal for whenever Happy needed a time-out.
Pepper ensured that she had the only key, and instructed JARVIS to page her over her Bluetooth earpiece whenever Happy needed assistance.
Iron Man arrived at the party right on schedule, rocketing into the room to thunderous applause and excited squeals from the kids. He installed himself in the corner of the main ballroom, beside the Christmas tree, and attended dutifully to the queue of kids lined up the entire length of one long wall.
Pepper, supervising from a distance, reflected that the event was almost certain to boost Tony’s good PR: the majority of the parents had brought cameras, and she saw several people snapping pictures with their phones as well. Each child got a small toy, a candy cane, and a photo with the man in the red suit.
Happy wasn’t as glib as Tony would have been, but he was good with the kids-he patiently coaxed smiles out of the shy ones, chatted easily with the talkative ones, and cheerfully answered questions as best he could.
Two hours in, when Happy took the first of his scheduled breaks, Pepper met him in the green room with a tumbler of ice water and a fresh cotton towel.
“Yowsa,” said Happy under his breath, as Pepper unlatched the gold faceplate.
“Pardon?” she prompted.
“I said, ‘you look very nice, Pepper.’”
Privately, Pepper agreed with him. Her hair was arranged in artful pincurls; eschewing the usual holiday black and jewel-tones, she’d opted for a classic shell-pink Dior gown, strapless, offset by a simple string of oyster-coloured pearls. “Thank you.”
She held the tumbler up, aimed the straw at his lips. “So this is how the other half lives,” Happy quipped. “Signing autographs, being served drinks by beautiful women… nice work if you can get it, right?” He drained the entire glass in seconds.
“How’s it going?” asked Pepper.
There were bright spots of pink on the driver’s cheeks, and his short hair was dripping wet. “Hot,” he replied, somewhat redundantly, swabbing his face with the towel.
She crossed to the laundry sink and refilled the sweating tumbler; Happy drank it even more quickly than the first.
“It’s like a friggin’ furnace in this thing.”
“I am doing what I can to regulate the suit’s internal temperature,” JARVIS remarked inside the helmet and in Pepper’s earpiece. “But without a continuous power source, options are limited.”
“It’s not your fault, JARVIS,” replied Pepper, who was perspiring more than usual herself. “The heat is on full blast in here, and there’s zero ventilation. But you’re doing great,” she assured Happy, patting the armour in the approximate vicinity of his shoulder. “Both of you.”
Outside, a group of kids had started chanting: “Iron Man! Iron Man! Iron Man!”
Happy sighed heavily.
“A hero’s work is never done,” said Pepper, and gave him a gentle but inexorable push towards the door.
*
“How am I supposed to go to the bathroom in this tin can?” asked Happy, when they met up for his second break. Even with the voice modulator, Pepper could hear a frantic edge in his tone. Probably all that water from earlier.
She frowned. “Actually, I’m not sure. Maybe you could ask JARVIS?”
There were a few seconds of silence, during which Happy stood with his head cocked slightly, presumably conversing with the AI inside his helmet. Then he nodded.
“So?” prompted Pepper.
Happy shook his head. “You don’t wanna know,” he said grimly, and walked out.
*
“Ms. Potts,” said JARVIS in her ear, about fifteen minutes later. “Your presence is required.”
“I’ll be right there.”
She fervently hoped Happy had managed to solve the bathroom situation on his own.
*
“What are you doing here?!” she demanded.
Tony, immaculate in black tie, was seated in one of the folding chairs, one arm draped over the back. “Merry Christmas to you, too,” he replied, grinning rakishly. “You look amazing, Potts. Why do you only ever dress like that when I’m not around?”
She was still too baffled by his sudden appearance to fully assimilate the compliment. “How did you get here?”
“I don’t know if you were aware of this, Pepper, but Iron Man can fly.”
There was a period of about five seconds, during which Pepper contemplated a variety of career-limiting moves. When she had calmed down enough to speak, she asked, “Why didn’t you call and tell me you were coming?”
He shrugged. “I had this idea that I was going to turn up at the last minute and save the day. You know, Christmas miracle-style. Then I get here, all set to make my dramatic entrance, and I find out from JARVIS that-guess what? You don’t even need me.” His tone was light, but Pepper could sense a measure of honesty behind the words.
“That’s not true.” The thought of how much she needed Tony Stark scared her at times.
His gaze flicked up to her face. “No?”
Pepper wondered when the dance music outside had gotten so loud-she could feel the pounding base line reverberating through her entire body.
“No,” she affirmed. “Of course we need you. Everyone here tonight is here because of you.”
He smirked. “Clearly. So I’m stuck in a janitor’s closet, missing my own party. I gotta say, Potts, not ideal.”
“It’s only for a few more minutes. As soon as Happy’s finished giving out the presents, we’ll get him out of here, and you can make as big an entrance as you like. I don’t think he likes being Iron Man very much,” she added.
“It’s a heavy cross to bear,” said Tony, gravely.
“Did you have time to finish your toast?”
Tony patted the breast pocket of his jacket. “Guaranteed all-ages appropriate.”
Pepper could have kissed him. Metaphorically speaking, of course.
“I’ll tell Happy to wrap it up. Do you need anything while you wait? Something to eat? A drink?”
“Vodka martini.” His face was still solemn, but there was mischief in his dark eyes. “Extra dry, extra olives. Extra extra dirty.”
Equally seriously, Pepper responded, “I’ll see what I can do.”
*
It took her a full five minutes to wade through the crowd to the bar, and another eight minutes to get Tony’s drink and escort it safely through the press of bodies. Happy had a woman on his knee who looked like she was a little too old to be giving Santa her Christmas list, but he didn’t look like he minded all that much. Pepper waved to get his attention, pointed at her wristwatch, and angled a thumb in the direction of the exit. Happy nodded: message received.
Pepper slipped into the maintenance room, which had now taken on the humid atmosphere of a sauna.
Tony was still there, tapping away furiously on his phone, so completely absorbed that he didn’t even notice her entering. He’d removed his tuxedo jacket and draped it over his lap, and was sprawled out on one folding chair with his feet propped up on the other.
Pepper was suddenly struck by the extraordinary and entirely effortless grace of him. She admired him so much: his unflagging energy, his boundless creativity, and the utter conviction with which he inhabited his own skin.
In spite of the drastic loss and change that had been wrought on his life in the past year, he was still fighting-was still convinced, despite the preponderance of the evidence, that humanity at large had a value beyond price. He’d been miraculously restored to her, not just once, but many times over.
He would never be whole, and he would certainly never be perfect, but he was her fixed point, as immutable as the first law of thermodynamics, as constant as the stars. Predictably mercurial. Dependably undependable. Tony-her Tony.
And it was ridiculous to keep pretending she wasn’t in love with him.
Finally admitting it, even if only to herself, was a kind of release; Pepper suddenly felt lighter and happier than she had in weeks. She hadn’t had a drink all evening, but she felt giddy, intoxicated. She was ready to sing and dance and shout at the top of her lungs.
Instead, she touched his shoulder gently, and put the martini into his hand.
“Thanks,” said Tony absently, without looking up-completely unaware that the entire world had just shifted on its axis, at least as far as one of them was concerned.
She leaned down, peered over his shoulder at the transparent screen. Schematics were scrolling by at a speed that made her feel a bit dizzy-although maybe it was the heat. She could tell Tony was feeling the effects as well: his thick black hair was sweat-damp. She wanted to sweep it back, rake her fingers through it.
A wisp of her hair brushed against his cheek, and he canted his head to the side, exposing the corded ridge of his neck. She contemplated biting it-not hard, of course. Just a little nip. His skin was dewy with perspiration, and she licked her lips as she wondered what it would taste like. He certainly smelled delectable: a heady combination of sweat, alcohol, expensive aftershave, and-a seasonal addition-peppermint and chocolate.
“What are you working on?” she asked, trying not to breathe him in too deeply.
“Just going over this fake Iron Man setup you guys put together.” He sounded impressed. “Pretty slick. I might hang onto it. It would be useful to have a stunt double.”
“For parties?”
“Sure. Parties, board meetings, court appearances. Alibis.” He flicked the screen, extinguishing the backlight, and stowed the phone in his pocket. He tilted the chair back, tipping his head up to look at her, his smile intriguingly inverted. “So… we have a little problem here.”
“We do?”
He pointed a finger in the direction of the air vent, waves of hot air shimmering above them.
“The heat? I know, I’m sorry, there isn’t anything I can-”
“Not that.”
He stood, and stepped behind her, moving close enough that his chin hovered over her bare shoulder. He pointed towards the ceiling, and she followed the sight-line of his arm to the overhead light fixture. Because she was looking directly into the light, it took her a second to identify the item in question: a cluster of pale berries and glossy green leaves, attached to the light fixture by a satiny blossom of ribbon.
“Ms. Potts, what is that?”
She heard herself say, in a surprisingly steady voice, “I believe it’s mistletoe, Mr. Stark.”
“I distinctly remember reading the minutes of the Annual Holiday Celebration Planning Committee meeting, in which it was specified that there was to be no mistletoe whatsoever on the premises. Is that correct?”
He was stroking the small of her back casually, carelessly-she wondered if he even realized he was doing it.
“Yes,” affirmed Pepper. She felt dazed and feverish; she resisted the urge to mop the perspiration from her brow. Tony suddenly seemed to be occupying most of the space in the room.
“In fact, I believe the exact words used were ‘an accident waiting to happen.’” His voice was pitched low, his breath hot against her cheek.
“Right.” Craning her neck for so long was starting to make her lightheaded, but she didn’t dare look away.
Regardless of how she felt, Tony Stark was still her boss, and she was still just his very convenient personal assistant. She knew she should back away, fend him off with defensive body language and a quick-witted retort. She knew this. But she couldn’t seem to muster the determination to follow through.
A droplet of sweat trickled down the nape of her neck and traced the curve of her spine, landing right onto Tony’s hand.
“What are we going to do about this?” he murmured, dangerously close to her ear.
“We could…” A series of increasingly elaborate and disastrous possibilities occurred to Pepper in a remarkably short period of time. “We should probably take it down,” she observed.
“Good idea.” He let go of her, and sprang onto the chair with an enthusiasm that Pepper couldn’t help but find slightly insulting. Obviously, the heat was making her imagine things. Sexy things.
She shook her head in an effort to clear it.
The elaborate bow immediately unravelled under his dextrous fingers, the sprig of mistletoe tumbling, jerking to a halt at a point just below Tony’s navel.
He looked down at it, then at Pepper, raising a single salacious eyebrow.
She folded her arms and shook her head, mock-sternly.
He jiggled the ribbon a little, the mistletoe bobbing and swaying at the end of it.
It was tempting to give in, just for the pleasure of seeing his reaction, but Pepper’s resolve held firm. “In your dreams, Tony.”
He hopped down and took a step towards her, right into her personal space. He touched her cheek with the back of his hand, the sprig of mistletoe dangling from between his fingers. She could feel her heart syncopating in time to the all-encompassing throb of the music outside.
She put a hand against his chest, intending to slow his approach, but found herself instead tracing the hard outline of the RT, faintly luminescent beneath the heavy white shirt front. Just one more example of how Tony’s ingenuity had managed to turn weakness into strength.
“Pepper,” he murmured. He had that look on his face that usually meant he was about to say or do something catastrophically inappropriate.
Which was the precise moment when Iron Man came bursting through the door.
Tony and Pepper broke apart instantly, as though someone had flipped a switch and changed their polarity. Pepper didn’t see where the mistletoe disappeared to; she was too busy trying to decide what to do with her hands.
“Hey, Pepper, I-” Happy paused, then flipped up the faceplate of his armour. “Boss! You made it!” The driver had never been a particularly demonstrative individual, but there was a moment when Pepper thought he might actually hug Tony.
“Yep.” Tony managed to fend Happy off with a well-timed handshake. “Imagine my surprise when I found out I was already here.”
Happy chuckled. “Don’t worry, boss, I don’t want to be a superhero any more than I did yesterday. I just want to get out of this thing.”
“You sure about that, Hap? Looks good on you.”
The driver shook his head emphatically.
Tony nodded. “In that case, I relieve you, sir.”
Happy gave a crisp salute-he seemed to be getting the hang of moving in the bulky armour. “I stand relieved.”
“Need any help? That thing looks like it’d be a bitch to take off. Is that the chestplate from the-”
“I am on hand to direct Mr. Hogan in the removal of his costume,” JARVIS reported in Pepper’s earpiece.
“JARVIS can handle it. Isn’t it about time for your speech, Mr. Stark?” Pepper prompted.
Tony took Pepper’s arm at the elbow, and gestured to the door with a debonair smile. “Lead the way, Ms. Potts.”
*
Pepper stood at the back of the room, trying not to betray her anxiety as Tony ascended the steps to the small platform stage.
A year ago, she would have found some way to derail this-wouldn’t have dreamed of simply standing idly by while her boss gave an unvetted speech, with a drink in his hand, to a crowd of employees armed with cameras. At the very least, she would have had JARVIS and the legal department standing by, ready to deal with anything that cropped up on YouTube.
Realistically, there was still a very real chance that this could go wrong. But the difference now was that, while Pepper didn’t always agree with Tony’s decisions, she was able to trust that he would at least make decisions. That he had, over the past year, gained a sense of agency and purpose in his life that had always been lacking. That he was aware of the impact of his actions.
He tapped the mic experimentally and scanned the crowd, smiling when he spotted Pepper. She nodded encouragingly: Go get ‘em, boss.
“It’s been an interesting year for us,” he began, “and I’m glad to be here celebrating the end of it with all of you. Each and every one of you is an integral part of this company. My dad always used to call it the Stark Industries family-and because of that, I grew up thinking of many of you here tonight as distant relatives.
“You know, when I was about five years old, I confronted my parents with the terrible truth that I had discovered: reindeer couldn’t actually fly. I won’t bore you with the technical details of how I figured this out-it had to do with conservation of momentum.”
The entire propulsion division roared. It was a running joke around the lab that Iron Man was only able to fly through Tony Stark’s sheer strength of will.
“So my dad explained, at considerable length, about recessive genes, and that only a few very select, very special reindeer were able to fly. And I got ticked, because I felt that the fact that no one had ever seen a flying reindeer was proof that they couldn’t possibly exist. Nobody had explained to me yet about proprietary technology.”
Another gale of laughter, even more widespread than the first.
“Then my mother said to me, ‘Anthony-’ my mom was the only person who ever called me Anthony, and only when she really wanted me to listen-‘Anthony, just because you can’t see something, doesn’t mean it isn’t holding you up.’
“Those of you who were lucky enough to meet her will remember that my mother was… well, she was a smart lady. And I’m a smart guy, once I’ve had my coffee in the morning, but it still took me a long time to figure out exactly what she meant. She wasn’t talking about physics-that, I’ve always had a pretty good handle on. She was talking about something more intangible.”
He paused, looking thoughtfully out over the expectant crowd. Pepper blinked several times in rapid succession, trying to forestall the onslaught of tears.
“This year has been kind of a roller-coaster ride for me, and through it all, I’ve known that I could depend on your understanding, your determination, and your support, to help me fly true. Because that’s what a family does, especially in times of crisis: it holds you up. So tonight is my small way of thanking you all for that.” He raised his glass, and the majority of the crowd followed suit. “To the Stark Industries family. Cheers!” He tossed back his drink.
There was a burst of applause, and Pepper let out a thankful sigh. The toast had gone off without a hitch. It was a Christmas miracle.
“And on that note…”
He’d set his speaking notes down on the nearest table, with his empty glass. Crap, thought Pepper. Tony was extemporizing. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw at least two of the company’s cadre of lawyers reach for their cell phones.
“…there is one more thing I’d like to say.
“Tonight has been a great evening, with good food, and awesome entertainment, and the best thing about it-apart from the fact that the boss is paying, of course-is the fact that you can kick back and enjoy it, knowing that someone else has taken care of all the small details.
“Well, I’m lucky enough that I get to live that way each and every day, because I have someone in my life who looks after all of those small details for me, allowing me to focus on the things that I need to get done. And it’s a pretty thankless job, most of the time, but she does it with grace and tact, and frightening efficiency, and an incredible amount of style.”
Pepper’s heart felt weightless, silently suspended within her chest-and then began to beat again with painful ferocity.
“And so I would like to say a special thank you to my outstanding personal assistant, Virginia Potts.” Tony pointed, and the entire crowd seemed to swell and surge in her direction. “Take a bow, Pepper,” he called.
Pepper rose to her feet with a gracious smile as the entire room, Tony included, erupted into wild applause.
*
In the wake of Tony’s speech, the crush of bodies began to thin out as young parents took the kids home to bed, and those without children went on to other holiday celebrations, leaving only the most stalwart partygoers to finish out the night. Pepper worked the room, exchanging salutations with most, handshakes with many, and hugs with a select few.
She was in the midst of being heartily congratulated by Clarice from Finance and Administration when her Bluetooth earpiece chimed softly.
Pepper jumped-she’d forgotten she was still wearing it. “JARVIS?”
“Your presence is urgently required, Ms. Potts.”
She’d already waved goodbye to Clarice and was cutting discreetly through the crowd, Blackberry in hand. “I’ll be right there.”
*
She yanked open the door and barrelled into the darkened room. “Happy?” she called, groping blindly along the wall for the light switch.
“Ecstatic,” replied a familiar drawl. “You?”
“Tony?!”
She located the switch at last. The light snapped on, and sure enough, there he was: hands jammed in his pockets, rocking on his heels, watching her with anxious eyes.
“Hi.”
“Hi,” she echoed.
She glanced around her at the discarded elements of Happy’s costume that littered the floor. She tried in vain for almost a full minute to figure out what the emergency was, before the truth hit her: there wasn’t one.
He’d paged her here for… what, exactly?
“Tony...” She was on the brink of an emotional outburst, ready to either laugh or cry-or maybe both. “That was a great speech. Thank you.”
“It’s true. All of it. I don’t know what I’d do without you, Pepper. And I know you don’t want… I mean, that you’re not interested in me that way. I get that. But I just wanted you to know… I really do think of you as family.”
“Wow.” It was all Pepper could think of to say. If he really felt like that…
“Yeah, it’s weird, right? You’re weirded out, I can tell.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Sorry. Just-just forget I said anything. Okay?”
Pepper crossed the room in swift, purposeful strides. She marched right up to her boss and, before she had time to second-guess or talk herself out of it, threw her arms around his neck and kissed him full on the lips.
There was a moment of stunned non-reaction from Tony, during which Pepper had ample time to wonder how catastrophic a mistake she’d actually made. Six months was a long time, particularly for someone as capricious as Tony Stark; just because he’d had those feelings for her then, it didn’t necessarily mean he had them now. Maybe he’d moved on. Maybe he meant family in the most platonic sense.
Fortunately, Tony, being a prodigy, tended to catch on quickly. It took him only a split-second to get over his shock; he grabbed Pepper firmly by the hips and leaned forward into the kiss, coaxing her mouth open with his own, his callused hands catching on the silky fabric of her dress.
It wasn’t the passionate, frenzied embrace she’d envisioned whenever she’d pictured this moment. Pepper had always imagined that, if she did one day take complete leave of her senses and capitulate to her boss, it would be hasty, and messy, and cathartic, and unrestrained.
But there was something very careful and deliberate about the way Tony kissed her-as though he was embarking on a new project, something difficult and delicate and infinitely complex. Something on which he intended to expend considerable time and the entirety of his attention.
Something worth getting right.
Predictably, it was Tony who spoke first. “Are you my Christmas present?” he murmured, smiling against her lips.
“That depends.”
“Oh, I’ve been a very, very good boy.” He punctuated the statement with an emphatic squeeze of her backside that effectively belied his assertions.
“But what do I get in return?”
“Don’t be greedy, Potts. You already got one gift from me, and I didn’t even make you wait until Christmas.”
“Hmm?” He was nuzzling at the juncture of her neck and shoulder in a way that made it extremely difficult to follow the thread of their conversation. “What are you talking about?”
He removed himself to look her in the face. “You said that what you really wanted was for me to act like a CEO. Remember?”
Pepper glanced away, chagrined. “I’m sorry about that.”
He shrugged. “It was a fair observation. And I figured, you do so much for me… it was the least I could do.”
“That’s why you’ve been acting so weird.” And, she realized, the reason he’d suddenly adopted a bizarre, holiday-themed wardrobe.
“If by weird, you mean professional and efficient, then yes.” He sounded slightly affronted. “Even with you throwing up roadblocks at every turn.”
“What roadblocks?”
“Oh, sure, you can look innocent all you want, but you texted me first during that ballistics meeting. I have the evidence.”
“You’re the one who offered to inspect my legs.”
He nodded. “That offer still stands, by the way.”
“So…” she stroked the back of his neck lightly with her fingernails, and was gratified to hear him sigh contentedly, his dark eyes slowly losing focus. “Does this mean I’m not getting a new Audi?”
“Would you settle for a slightly used superhero?” He grinned. “If it helps, I’ve got mistletoe in my pocket.”
“And here I thought you were just happy to see me,” she teased.
“I didn’t say all of that just to get you into bed, Pepper,” he told her, his tone disarmingly earnest.
She arched a single eyebrow. “Who said anything about bed, Mr. Stark?” she deadpanned.
“I just wanted you to know.”
“Okay.”
“Although, since you brought it up…” He clasped his hands at the small of her back and tightened his arms around her. “If you are my present, I think it’s only fair that I get to take you home and unwrap you.”
Pepper flashed him a sultry smile. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Friday evening, Pepper arrived at the venue hours ahead of time and secure one of the back maintenance rooms for Happy’s exclusive use. The “green room,” as she christened it, was barely larger than a cupboard, and fairly utilitarian-a couple of folding chairs, a laundry sink, a row of shelves housing various cleaning products-but it was quiet, and private, which made it ideal for whenever Happy needed a time-out.
Pepper ensured that she had the only key, and instructed JARVIS to page her over her Bluetooth earpiece whenever Happy needed assistance.
Iron Man arrived at the party right on schedule, rocketing into the room to thunderous applause and excited squeals from the kids. He installed himself in the corner of the main ballroom, beside the Christmas tree, and attended dutifully to the queue of kids lined up the entire length of one long wall.
Pepper, supervising from a distance, reflected that the event was almost certain to boost Tony’s good PR: the majority of the parents had brought cameras, and she saw several people snapping pictures with their phones as well. Each child got a small toy, a candy cane, and a photo with the man in the red suit.
Happy wasn’t as glib as Tony would have been, but he was good with the kids-he patiently coaxed smiles out of the shy ones, chatted easily with the talkative ones, and cheerfully answered questions as best he could.
Two hours in, when Happy took the first of his scheduled breaks, Pepper met him in the green room with a tumbler of ice water and a fresh cotton towel.
“Yowsa,” said Happy under his breath, as Pepper unlatched the gold faceplate.
“Pardon?” she prompted.
“I said, ‘you look very nice, Pepper.’”
Privately, Pepper agreed with him. Her hair was arranged in artful pincurls; eschewing the usual holiday black and jewel-tones, she’d opted for a classic shell-pink Dior gown, strapless, offset by a simple string of oyster-coloured pearls. “Thank you.”
She held the tumbler up, aimed the straw at his lips. “So this is how the other half lives,” Happy quipped. “Signing autographs, being served drinks by beautiful women… nice work if you can get it, right?” He drained the entire glass in seconds.
“How’s it going?” asked Pepper.
There were bright spots of pink on the driver’s cheeks, and his short hair was dripping wet. “Hot,” he replied, somewhat redundantly, swabbing his face with the towel.
She crossed to the laundry sink and refilled the sweating tumbler; Happy drank it even more quickly than the first.
“It’s like a friggin’ furnace in this thing.”
“I am doing what I can to regulate the suit’s internal temperature,” JARVIS remarked inside the helmet and in Pepper’s earpiece. “But without a continuous power source, options are limited.”
“It’s not your fault, JARVIS,” replied Pepper, who was perspiring more than usual herself. “The heat is on full blast in here, and there’s zero ventilation. But you’re doing great,” she assured Happy, patting the armour in the approximate vicinity of his shoulder. “Both of you.”
Outside, a group of kids had started chanting: “Iron Man! Iron Man! Iron Man!”
Happy sighed heavily.
“A hero’s work is never done,” said Pepper, and gave him a gentle but inexorable push towards the door.
*
“How am I supposed to go to the bathroom in this tin can?” asked Happy, when they met up for his second break. Even with the voice modulator, Pepper could hear a frantic edge in his tone. Probably all that water from earlier.
She frowned. “Actually, I’m not sure. Maybe you could ask JARVIS?”
There were a few seconds of silence, during which Happy stood with his head cocked slightly, presumably conversing with the AI inside his helmet. Then he nodded.
“So?” prompted Pepper.
Happy shook his head. “You don’t wanna know,” he said grimly, and walked out.
*
“Ms. Potts,” said JARVIS in her ear, about fifteen minutes later. “Your presence is required.”
“I’ll be right there.”
She fervently hoped Happy had managed to solve the bathroom situation on his own.
*
“What are you doing here?!” she demanded.
Tony, immaculate in black tie, was seated in one of the folding chairs, one arm draped over the back. “Merry Christmas to you, too,” he replied, grinning rakishly. “You look amazing, Potts. Why do you only ever dress like that when I’m not around?”
She was still too baffled by his sudden appearance to fully assimilate the compliment. “How did you get here?”
“I don’t know if you were aware of this, Pepper, but Iron Man can fly.”
There was a period of about five seconds, during which Pepper contemplated a variety of career-limiting moves. When she had calmed down enough to speak, she asked, “Why didn’t you call and tell me you were coming?”
He shrugged. “I had this idea that I was going to turn up at the last minute and save the day. You know, Christmas miracle-style. Then I get here, all set to make my dramatic entrance, and I find out from JARVIS that-guess what? You don’t even need me.” His tone was light, but Pepper could sense a measure of honesty behind the words.
“That’s not true.” The thought of how much she needed Tony Stark scared her at times.
His gaze flicked up to her face. “No?”
Pepper wondered when the dance music outside had gotten so loud-she could feel the pounding base line reverberating through her entire body.
“No,” she affirmed. “Of course we need you. Everyone here tonight is here because of you.”
He smirked. “Clearly. So I’m stuck in a janitor’s closet, missing my own party. I gotta say, Potts, not ideal.”
“It’s only for a few more minutes. As soon as Happy’s finished giving out the presents, we’ll get him out of here, and you can make as big an entrance as you like. I don’t think he likes being Iron Man very much,” she added.
“It’s a heavy cross to bear,” said Tony, gravely.
“Did you have time to finish your toast?”
Tony patted the breast pocket of his jacket. “Guaranteed all-ages appropriate.”
Pepper could have kissed him. Metaphorically speaking, of course.
“I’ll tell Happy to wrap it up. Do you need anything while you wait? Something to eat? A drink?”
“Vodka martini.” His face was still solemn, but there was mischief in his dark eyes. “Extra dry, extra olives. Extra extra dirty.”
Equally seriously, Pepper responded, “I’ll see what I can do.”
*
It took her a full five minutes to wade through the crowd to the bar, and another eight minutes to get Tony’s drink and escort it safely through the press of bodies. Happy had a woman on his knee who looked like she was a little too old to be giving Santa her Christmas list, but he didn’t look like he minded all that much. Pepper waved to get his attention, pointed at her wristwatch, and angled a thumb in the direction of the exit. Happy nodded: message received.
Pepper slipped into the maintenance room, which had now taken on the humid atmosphere of a sauna.
Tony was still there, tapping away furiously on his phone, so completely absorbed that he didn’t even notice her entering. He’d removed his tuxedo jacket and draped it over his lap, and was sprawled out on one folding chair with his feet propped up on the other.
Pepper was suddenly struck by the extraordinary and entirely effortless grace of him. She admired him so much: his unflagging energy, his boundless creativity, and the utter conviction with which he inhabited his own skin.
In spite of the drastic loss and change that had been wrought on his life in the past year, he was still fighting-was still convinced, despite the preponderance of the evidence, that humanity at large had a value beyond price. He’d been miraculously restored to her, not just once, but many times over.
He would never be whole, and he would certainly never be perfect, but he was her fixed point, as immutable as the first law of thermodynamics, as constant as the stars. Predictably mercurial. Dependably undependable. Tony-her Tony.
And it was ridiculous to keep pretending she wasn’t in love with him.
Finally admitting it, even if only to herself, was a kind of release; Pepper suddenly felt lighter and happier than she had in weeks. She hadn’t had a drink all evening, but she felt giddy, intoxicated. She was ready to sing and dance and shout at the top of her lungs.
Instead, she touched his shoulder gently, and put the martini into his hand.
“Thanks,” said Tony absently, without looking up-completely unaware that the entire world had just shifted on its axis, at least as far as one of them was concerned.
She leaned down, peered over his shoulder at the transparent screen. Schematics were scrolling by at a speed that made her feel a bit dizzy-although maybe it was the heat. She could tell Tony was feeling the effects as well: his thick black hair was sweat-damp. She wanted to sweep it back, rake her fingers through it.
A wisp of her hair brushed against his cheek, and he canted his head to the side, exposing the corded ridge of his neck. She contemplated biting it-not hard, of course. Just a little nip. His skin was dewy with perspiration, and she licked her lips as she wondered what it would taste like. He certainly smelled delectable: a heady combination of sweat, alcohol, expensive aftershave, and-a seasonal addition-peppermint and chocolate.
“What are you working on?” she asked, trying not to breathe him in too deeply.
“Just going over this fake Iron Man setup you guys put together.” He sounded impressed. “Pretty slick. I might hang onto it. It would be useful to have a stunt double.”
“For parties?”
“Sure. Parties, board meetings, court appearances. Alibis.” He flicked the screen, extinguishing the backlight, and stowed the phone in his pocket. He tilted the chair back, tipping his head up to look at her, his smile intriguingly inverted. “So… we have a little problem here.”
“We do?”
He pointed a finger in the direction of the air vent, waves of hot air shimmering above them.
“The heat? I know, I’m sorry, there isn’t anything I can-”
“Not that.”
He stood, and stepped behind her, moving close enough that his chin hovered over her bare shoulder. He pointed towards the ceiling, and she followed the sight-line of his arm to the overhead light fixture. Because she was looking directly into the light, it took her a second to identify the item in question: a cluster of pale berries and glossy green leaves, attached to the light fixture by a satiny blossom of ribbon.
“Ms. Potts, what is that?”
She heard herself say, in a surprisingly steady voice, “I believe it’s mistletoe, Mr. Stark.”
“I distinctly remember reading the minutes of the Annual Holiday Celebration Planning Committee meeting, in which it was specified that there was to be no mistletoe whatsoever on the premises. Is that correct?”
He was stroking the small of her back casually, carelessly-she wondered if he even realized he was doing it.
“Yes,” affirmed Pepper. She felt dazed and feverish; she resisted the urge to mop the perspiration from her brow. Tony suddenly seemed to be occupying most of the space in the room.
“In fact, I believe the exact words used were ‘an accident waiting to happen.’” His voice was pitched low, his breath hot against her cheek.
“Right.” Craning her neck for so long was starting to make her lightheaded, but she didn’t dare look away.
Regardless of how she felt, Tony Stark was still her boss, and she was still just his very convenient personal assistant. She knew she should back away, fend him off with defensive body language and a quick-witted retort. She knew this. But she couldn’t seem to muster the determination to follow through.
A droplet of sweat trickled down the nape of her neck and traced the curve of her spine, landing right onto Tony’s hand.
“What are we going to do about this?” he murmured, dangerously close to her ear.
“We could…” A series of increasingly elaborate and disastrous possibilities occurred to Pepper in a remarkably short period of time. “We should probably take it down,” she observed.
“Good idea.” He let go of her, and sprang onto the chair with an enthusiasm that Pepper couldn’t help but find slightly insulting. Obviously, the heat was making her imagine things. Sexy things.
She shook her head in an effort to clear it.
The elaborate bow immediately unravelled under his dextrous fingers, the sprig of mistletoe tumbling, jerking to a halt at a point just below Tony’s navel.
He looked down at it, then at Pepper, raising a single salacious eyebrow.
She folded her arms and shook her head, mock-sternly.
He jiggled the ribbon a little, the mistletoe bobbing and swaying at the end of it.
It was tempting to give in, just for the pleasure of seeing his reaction, but Pepper’s resolve held firm. “In your dreams, Tony.”
He hopped down and took a step towards her, right into her personal space. He touched her cheek with the back of his hand, the sprig of mistletoe dangling from between his fingers. She could feel her heart syncopating in time to the all-encompassing throb of the music outside.
She put a hand against his chest, intending to slow his approach, but found herself instead tracing the hard outline of the RT, faintly luminescent beneath the heavy white shirt front. Just one more example of how Tony’s ingenuity had managed to turn weakness into strength.
“Pepper,” he murmured. He had that look on his face that usually meant he was about to say or do something catastrophically inappropriate.
Which was the precise moment when Iron Man came bursting through the door.
Tony and Pepper broke apart instantly, as though someone had flipped a switch and changed their polarity. Pepper didn’t see where the mistletoe disappeared to; she was too busy trying to decide what to do with her hands.
“Hey, Pepper, I-” Happy paused, then flipped up the faceplate of his armour. “Boss! You made it!” The driver had never been a particularly demonstrative individual, but there was a moment when Pepper thought he might actually hug Tony.
“Yep.” Tony managed to fend Happy off with a well-timed handshake. “Imagine my surprise when I found out I was already here.”
Happy chuckled. “Don’t worry, boss, I don’t want to be a superhero any more than I did yesterday. I just want to get out of this thing.”
“You sure about that, Hap? Looks good on you.”
The driver shook his head emphatically.
Tony nodded. “In that case, I relieve you, sir.”
Happy gave a crisp salute-he seemed to be getting the hang of moving in the bulky armour. “I stand relieved.”
“Need any help? That thing looks like it’d be a bitch to take off. Is that the chestplate from the-”
“I am on hand to direct Mr. Hogan in the removal of his costume,” JARVIS reported in Pepper’s earpiece.
“JARVIS can handle it. Isn’t it about time for your speech, Mr. Stark?” Pepper prompted.
Tony took Pepper’s arm at the elbow, and gestured to the door with a debonair smile. “Lead the way, Ms. Potts.”
*
Pepper stood at the back of the room, trying not to betray her anxiety as Tony ascended the steps to the small platform stage.
A year ago, she would have found some way to derail this-wouldn’t have dreamed of simply standing idly by while her boss gave an unvetted speech, with a drink in his hand, to a crowd of employees armed with cameras. At the very least, she would have had JARVIS and the legal department standing by, ready to deal with anything that cropped up on YouTube.
Realistically, there was still a very real chance that this could go wrong. But the difference now was that, while Pepper didn’t always agree with Tony’s decisions, she was able to trust that he would at least make decisions. That he had, over the past year, gained a sense of agency and purpose in his life that had always been lacking. That he was aware of the impact of his actions.
He tapped the mic experimentally and scanned the crowd, smiling when he spotted Pepper. She nodded encouragingly: Go get ‘em, boss.
“It’s been an interesting year for us,” he began, “and I’m glad to be here celebrating the end of it with all of you. Each and every one of you is an integral part of this company. My dad always used to call it the Stark Industries family-and because of that, I grew up thinking of many of you here tonight as distant relatives.
“You know, when I was about five years old, I confronted my parents with the terrible truth that I had discovered: reindeer couldn’t actually fly. I won’t bore you with the technical details of how I figured this out-it had to do with conservation of momentum.”
The entire propulsion division roared. It was a running joke around the lab that Iron Man was only able to fly through Tony Stark’s sheer strength of will.
“So my dad explained, at considerable length, about recessive genes, and that only a few very select, very special reindeer were able to fly. And I got ticked, because I felt that the fact that no one had ever seen a flying reindeer was proof that they couldn’t possibly exist. Nobody had explained to me yet about proprietary technology.”
Another gale of laughter, even more widespread than the first.
“Then my mother said to me, ‘Anthony-’ my mom was the only person who ever called me Anthony, and only when she really wanted me to listen-‘Anthony, just because you can’t see something, doesn’t mean it isn’t holding you up.’
“Those of you who were lucky enough to meet her will remember that my mother was… well, she was a smart lady. And I’m a smart guy, once I’ve had my coffee in the morning, but it still took me a long time to figure out exactly what she meant. She wasn’t talking about physics-that, I’ve always had a pretty good handle on. She was talking about something more intangible.”
He paused, looking thoughtfully out over the expectant crowd. Pepper blinked several times in rapid succession, trying to forestall the onslaught of tears.
“This year has been kind of a roller-coaster ride for me, and through it all, I’ve known that I could depend on your understanding, your determination, and your support, to help me fly true. Because that’s what a family does, especially in times of crisis: it holds you up. So tonight is my small way of thanking you all for that.” He raised his glass, and the majority of the crowd followed suit. “To the Stark Industries family. Cheers!” He tossed back his drink.
There was a burst of applause, and Pepper let out a thankful sigh. The toast had gone off without a hitch. It was a Christmas miracle.
“And on that note…”
He’d set his speaking notes down on the nearest table, with his empty glass. Crap, thought Pepper. Tony was extemporizing. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw at least two of the company’s cadre of lawyers reach for their cell phones.
“…there is one more thing I’d like to say.
“Tonight has been a great evening, with good food, and awesome entertainment, and the best thing about it-apart from the fact that the boss is paying, of course-is the fact that you can kick back and enjoy it, knowing that someone else has taken care of all the small details.
“Well, I’m lucky enough that I get to live that way each and every day, because I have someone in my life who looks after all of those small details for me, allowing me to focus on the things that I need to get done. And it’s a pretty thankless job, most of the time, but she does it with grace and tact, and frightening efficiency, and an incredible amount of style.”
Pepper’s heart felt weightless, silently suspended within her chest-and then began to beat again with painful ferocity.
“And so I would like to say a special thank you to my outstanding personal assistant, Virginia Potts.” Tony pointed, and the entire crowd seemed to swell and surge in her direction. “Take a bow, Pepper,” he called.
Pepper rose to her feet with a gracious smile as the entire room, Tony included, erupted into wild applause.
*
In the wake of Tony’s speech, the crush of bodies began to thin out as young parents took the kids home to bed, and those without children went on to other holiday celebrations, leaving only the most stalwart partygoers to finish out the night. Pepper worked the room, exchanging salutations with most, handshakes with many, and hugs with a select few.
She was in the midst of being heartily congratulated by Clarice from Finance and Administration when her Bluetooth earpiece chimed softly.
Pepper jumped-she’d forgotten she was still wearing it. “JARVIS?”
“Your presence is urgently required, Ms. Potts.”
She’d already waved goodbye to Clarice and was cutting discreetly through the crowd, Blackberry in hand. “I’ll be right there.”
*
She yanked open the door and barrelled into the darkened room. “Happy?” she called, groping blindly along the wall for the light switch.
“Ecstatic,” replied a familiar drawl. “You?”
“Tony?!”
She located the switch at last. The light snapped on, and sure enough, there he was: hands jammed in his pockets, rocking on his heels, watching her with anxious eyes.
“Hi.”
“Hi,” she echoed.
She glanced around her at the discarded elements of Happy’s costume that littered the floor. She tried in vain for almost a full minute to figure out what the emergency was, before the truth hit her: there wasn’t one.
He’d paged her here for… what, exactly?
“Tony...” She was on the brink of an emotional outburst, ready to either laugh or cry-or maybe both. “That was a great speech. Thank you.”
“It’s true. All of it. I don’t know what I’d do without you, Pepper. And I know you don’t want… I mean, that you’re not interested in me that way. I get that. But I just wanted you to know… I really do think of you as family.”
“Wow.” It was all Pepper could think of to say. If he really felt like that…
“Yeah, it’s weird, right? You’re weirded out, I can tell.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Sorry. Just-just forget I said anything. Okay?”
Pepper crossed the room in swift, purposeful strides. She marched right up to her boss and, before she had time to second-guess or talk herself out of it, threw her arms around his neck and kissed him full on the lips.
There was a moment of stunned non-reaction from Tony, during which Pepper had ample time to wonder how catastrophic a mistake she’d actually made. Six months was a long time, particularly for someone as capricious as Tony Stark; just because he’d had those feelings for her then, it didn’t necessarily mean he had them now. Maybe he’d moved on. Maybe he meant family in the most platonic sense.
Fortunately, Tony, being a prodigy, tended to catch on quickly. It took him only a split-second to get over his shock; he grabbed Pepper firmly by the hips and leaned forward into the kiss, coaxing her mouth open with his own, his callused hands catching on the silky fabric of her dress.
It wasn’t the passionate, frenzied embrace she’d envisioned whenever she’d pictured this moment. Pepper had always imagined that, if she did one day take complete leave of her senses and capitulate to her boss, it would be hasty, and messy, and cathartic, and unrestrained.
But there was something very careful and deliberate about the way Tony kissed her-as though he was embarking on a new project, something difficult and delicate and infinitely complex. Something on which he intended to expend considerable time and the entirety of his attention.
Something worth getting right.
Predictably, it was Tony who spoke first. “Are you my Christmas present?” he murmured, smiling against her lips.
“That depends.”
“Oh, I’ve been a very, very good boy.” He punctuated the statement with an emphatic squeeze of her backside that effectively belied his assertions.
“But what do I get in return?”
“Don’t be greedy, Potts. You already got one gift from me, and I didn’t even make you wait until Christmas.”
“Hmm?” He was nuzzling at the juncture of her neck and shoulder in a way that made it extremely difficult to follow the thread of their conversation. “What are you talking about?”
He removed himself to look her in the face. “You said that what you really wanted was for me to act like a CEO. Remember?”
Pepper glanced away, chagrined. “I’m sorry about that.”
He shrugged. “It was a fair observation. And I figured, you do so much for me… it was the least I could do.”
“That’s why you’ve been acting so weird.” And, she realized, the reason he’d suddenly adopted a bizarre, holiday-themed wardrobe.
“If by weird, you mean professional and efficient, then yes.” He sounded slightly affronted. “Even with you throwing up roadblocks at every turn.”
“What roadblocks?”
“Oh, sure, you can look innocent all you want, but you texted me first during that ballistics meeting. I have the evidence.”
“You’re the one who offered to inspect my legs.”
He nodded. “That offer still stands, by the way.”
“So…” she stroked the back of his neck lightly with her fingernails, and was gratified to hear him sigh contentedly, his dark eyes slowly losing focus. “Does this mean I’m not getting a new Audi?”
“Would you settle for a slightly used superhero?” He grinned. “If it helps, I’ve got mistletoe in my pocket.”
“And here I thought you were just happy to see me,” she teased.
“I didn’t say all of that just to get you into bed, Pepper,” he told her, his tone disarmingly earnest.
She arched a single eyebrow. “Who said anything about bed, Mr. Stark?” she deadpanned.
“I just wanted you to know.”
“Okay.”
“Although, since you brought it up…” He clasped his hands at the small of her back and tightened his arms around her. “If you are my present, I think it’s only fair that I get to take you home and unwrap you.”
Pepper flashed him a sultry smile. “I’ll see what I can do.”