[FIC] Holy Ghost and All
Title: Holy Ghost and All
Author: RD
Rating: R
Pairing: Tony/Pepper/Jarvis
A/N: A fic where Pepper knows this is nine kinds of wrong.
The worst thing she caught him doing, on a level of moral degradation at least, was having sex with Jarvis. Of course, intercourse with Jarvis was physically impossible (though that excuse had never hindered Tony before), but Pepper had walked in on him jerking off rather emphatically to Jarvis' dulcet tones. She was a professional, and mostly averted her eyes, and stepped back, waiting outside until Tony-
She thought of slippers and puppies and warm mugs of tea. Nice, safe, comforting things. It didn't occur to her to indulge.
It was the beginning of a chain of events. Pepper didn't sense it as a start, because she had to live one day at a time in Tony's presence. She could never second-guess him, and even something so base as sex could mean nothing or everything with him. Pepper just supposed this was inevitable. Tony was an egotist, and narcissist, and any number of other -ists that didn't exactly throw him into a good light. Jarvis, being created in Tony's image, was inexorably going to be somewhere down the line on his list of sexual conquests.
"I believe Mr. Stark is quite finished," Jarvis told her a moment later, and he sounded, she swore, distinctly smug.
*
And then, the worst thing she caught him doing was bringing himself off, utterly wanton, by his own hand. Pepper suspected he had some exhibitionist blood in him, as Tony had never been private about his private life, and this was pushing the boundaries - she wondered if he was naked for himself, or for Jarvis, or for her.
Things needed to be done. He couldn't very well sit around jerking off all day when Pepper had three piles of mail with his name scrawled on each envelope. Pepper coughed, and things converged, and much to her displeasure, Tony managed to come saying her name.
"I'll come back when you're decent," Pepper muttered, wishing she had gone sooner.
Tony rolled to face her, breathing through his mouth. "Better had," he said, and then: "Pepper-?" But she only heard it underneath the click of the door closing behind her. She waited, and thought blankly on how much Tony complicated things.
"I think he likes you," Jarvis told her, quietly sly.
"I hate you, Jarvis," Pepper replied conversationally.
"Duly noted."
*
But the worst thing she caught him doing came after a whole string of fairly dire happenstances, with bullet-holes and blood, torn muscles and tempered egos. Pepper felt like the worried girlfriend left at home that Tony dreamt of, only with less benefits and more nagging. She reminded him daily of his death wish, but Tony brushed it off, saying he was far more of a masochist, and then getting lost in a tangent about a fabulous dominatrix he knew in his youth.
She went down to the workshop one previously inconspicuous morning with a mug of coffee and a stack of freshly printed photos for autographs - a habit of Tony's that Pepper deeply disapproved of. Tony was sitting at one end, cross-legged, on his office chair, and the suit was pottering about at the other, apparently doing a bad imitation of a human walking. They both waved at her. Pepper didn't quite drop the coffee, but the photos were long gone, pooling around her feet; a hundred Tony Starks gurning up at her.
"I'm teaching Jarvis how to pilot the suit," Tony explained, not moving to help her tidy up. "He's pretty crap."
"If I may interject, your first attempts with this equipment were rather more embarrassing, sir," Jarvis said. It was strange to hear his voice coming from the suit, contained in some hidden speaker, rather than booming out omnipresent around the house.
"I dread to think what hijinks you boys will get up to," Pepper said, smiling wryly.
"Hijinks? Me? I don't know what's led you to such a scurrilous conclusion, Ms. Potts," Tony replied, barely even feigning innocence. He threw a spanner in Jarvis' general direction, smiling like the Cheshire Cat as the suit's arm whipped out and grabbed it, mid-spin. "He's learning. You're learning!"
"Simple mathematics," Jarvis countered smoothly.
She had no idea. Pepper realised by now that Tony was in some kind of bizarre relationship with his in-house security system - a perfectly timed midlife crisis, she suspected - and knew just as well what that said about Tony as a people person. He wasn't one, of course. People were for business handshakes or nameless fucks; computers were his source of conversation. But Pepper didn't care to analyse this. It still wouldn't have prepared her for seeing her boss getting brought off by his own metal suit.
She wasn't spying, because that would be rude, and she wasn't watching, because that would be voyeurism, but Pepper hovered for a while outside Tony's workshop, just looking through the glass. Tony was standing, his jeans low and his hips stark, the suit behind him, practically holding him up - Jarvis, Jarvis behind him.
"Softer," he hissed. Pepper wondered whether it was cold, or warm, or if Tony could even tell the difference right now.
"Yeah," Tony sighed. "Yeah, softer."
*
The worst thing she ever caught him doing, though, she never technically caught him doing. But she knew he was behind it, because it made her flustered, and Pepper was always cool and collected and perfectly coifed around everyone except Tony - and only then when Tony was flirting with her. He wasn't. He spent his time doing deceptively innocent pastimes, like pretending to read the Bio-Mechanical Enhancement Programme's annual report, and designing new and increasingly florid versions of his suit, and making omelettes for Pepper when she was taking dictation. The last of these was unusually sweet, but couldn't quite be classed as flirting. Tony was too obvious for such subtleties.
"You're softening me up," Pepper accused mildly, as Tony made her a blissfully perfect coffee. "You're never this nice."
"I'm always this nice. You're just never around to see it."
"And I'm always around." Pepper sipped, and tried not to curl her toes. He was good. "What are you up to?"
"Such suspicion," Tony sighed dramatically, and sat down next to her, his chin in his hands. "Can't I treat my favourite assistant once in a while?"
"The last time you said that, I almost filed a lawsuit against you."
"My hands are naturally grabby. It's a sad affliction, but has perks nonetheless."
"I'm sure," Pepper murmured, smiling into her mug.
It wasn't Tony acting differently that made her notice something amiss - it was Jarvis. Jarvis was smart, that was a given, and had inherited some of Tony's flair, unavoidably injected between the lines of coding. He was civil to Pepper, and she in turn saw him as a work colleague that she would gladly go for a cocktail or two with, were he in possession of a body. And a liver to destroy.
She'd never had cause to wonder if he had a sex drive. Pepper doubted any sane engineer would programme their AI with hormones, but Pepper had always doubted Tony's sanity anyway.
Apparently, Jarvis had a crass side. "You're looking very pert this morning, Ms. Potts," he told her smoothly, one November morning, instead of the usual weather report.
"Jarvis?"
"Your breasts, Ms. Potts. A crude if effective indicator of the weather."
"My breasts are none of your concern," Pepper muttered, and pulled her jacket tightly across her chest. Jarvis said nothing, but she felt - and had never felt before in his constant presence - watched. She wasn't sure how much that rankled her.
She accused Tony of setting Jarvis on her tail, and he denied everything. "It's not my fault if men, women and computers alike lust over you," he said, pointedly not looking her over. "And that blouse really does bring out the best in your breasts."
They were double-teaming her, and honestly, that just wasn't fair.
*
It was the worst thing she caught him doing, because it affected her. It made her feel concerned and betrayed and turned on and, in some absent and peripheral way, adored.
He'd done it so that she could see. Tony knew she checked on his workshop last thing before she left, because Pepper had the added worry of the suit - whether it was locked down, whether it was safe, whether there were merely bullet grazes or entire limbs mangled. So he took them there.
The girl, the redhead, was slight and pale. She had freckles across her back, that Pepper could see, and hair that fell down in a single, elegant curve between her shoulder blades. She was taller than Tony - not by much, but enough that he had to look up to kiss her standing. The man was blonde and lean, high and English; that much she could hear in his faint murmurs. They pressed together, the three of them, skin against concrete floor and metal benches, coming down on the floor at the feet of the suit, proud and erect like some ancient idol. Tony ran his fingers through her hair, kissed him, licked at the curve of her neck, touched him on his thin stomach.
Pepper wondered if, like her, Jarvis was watching and seeing himself.
She left the house shaken. She looked at her bare back in the mirror that night, and tried to count her freckles.
*
By chance, the worst thing she caught him doing was offering her an invitation. It was one of those nonchalantly important moments in life, which Pepper might've missed if she had simply turned her head in the other direction. As it happened, she looked at Tony - and in truth, she was always going to have looked at Tony, because he pulled her gaze like an orbit: her star, her centre. Her thoughts seemed to have been converging on him too much lately. He was teasing her, seducing her, confusing her, all the while with something utterly serious in his eyes. And Jarvis had his role too, to sexualise Tony for her, to make her wonder - what if? What if we-?
He called her over with the incline of his head. The suit's fingers twitched, and Pepper wondered whether it was just a glitch in the circuits, or whether it was Jarvis, anticipating. Tony generally didn't allow for glitches.
"Mr. Stark-" she said.
"Pepper," he said.
"This is going to be one of those awkward moments, isn't it?" Pepper said, turning away from him. "Where you want something to happen, and you think I want it too, but I don't know, I can never be sure with you-"
"Pepper."
"Because this, this is all something beyond me. You can do anything you want, but I'm just-I can't, because I'm not you."
"Pepper," Tony said to her. "You're flustered. Stop that. It's very unbecoming, you know. You've got a far better vocabulary than that."
"You're making me nervous."
"I am? Do I intimidate you, Ms. Potts?"
"Not generally, Mr. Stark," she replied truthfully.
He offered her his hand. It was scarred and dry and open. Pepper bit the inside of her cheek, and took it. It was probably the worst thing she had ever done, but she decided not to regret it anyway.
"He's very good," Jarvis said from behind her. "I've been assured many times that had I a nervous system, I'd be ever so appreciative."
"You scare me, sometimes," Pepper told Tony. It didn't come out as casual as she'd meant. He smiled with his eyes anyway.
The suit didn't whir or clunk like Tony's household AI, but moved with a sleek hiss of air and the slightest creak of metal against metal. It made no sound at all against skin. Jarvis put his hand against Tony's arm first, as if to reassure Pepper that this was perfectly normal. It wasn't. She'd never had sex with her boss before, and had never even considered having sex with a robot. Tony told her constantly that it wasn't a robot, because it was under his control, but Jarvis was powering it now, and Tony's management of the thing was slipping further down the line.
"It's fine," Tony said. "We've saved the world. This is nothing." His tact was a rare and powerful thing.
Tony kissed her. It was much like Pepper had imaged, only so much better for its actuality - the warmth of his lips, the rasp of his beard, his hands staying restrained by her waist. She hadn't imagined Jarvis running his hands deftly through her hair, but it was pleasant enough. She didn't complain. "Do you give them all this much attention?" Pepper asked, as Tony unbuttoned her blouse, stroking her skin on the way down.
"Not nearly," he replied, kissing her stomach.
"On average, his encounters last approximately twenty-seven minutes and twelve seconds, from entering the bedroom to climax."
"See?" Tony looked up at her as he slid her skirt down past her knees. "Jarvis knows where it's at. I'll even let that insult to my prowess slip."
"Too kind of you, sir."
The suit's empty gauntlet pinched carefully at the hip of Pepper's knickers, pulling them down. She breathed in sharply, and gripped Tony's shoulders for support or reassurance. He gave both, his hands steadying her and his mouth curving up at the corner, pleased and curious.
She didn't ask him how this would affect their professional relationship, because he'd lie.
Jarvis touched her left breast and Tony held the right, and Pepper felt almost cleaved. There was only one mouth to kiss her, though, one life-worn set of palms to leave an imprint on her skin, so she held Tony, and let Jarvis go on with just gentle words of encouragement. "Softer," she whispered, the word so familiar.
"Softer," Jarvis echoed.
"Yeah," Tony finished.
*
The worst thing she caught him doing was not even trying to leave the morning after. "Well, this ruins everything," she muttered, put out.
"I've ballsed it up by not treating you like one of the girls? Christ. I didn't know you went for the love-'em and leave-'em type, Ms. Potts."
"I don't, Mr. Stark."
"I'll consider myself formally warned," Tony murmured, smiling to himself.
She put her hand on his bare chest and felt it rise and fall comfortingly. The glow of the arc reactor lit up his face in the dim morning light, showing her every tired line, every speck of stubble, every crease of his smile. The suit was propped in the corner of the room, arms crossed, facing the bed. It seemed to fit, Jarvis watching them, just as Pepper seemed to fit against the curve of Tony's chest.
It was, absurdly, just the worst happily ever after.
Author: RD
Rating: R
Pairing: Tony/Pepper/Jarvis
A/N: A fic where Pepper knows this is nine kinds of wrong.
The worst thing she caught him doing, on a level of moral degradation at least, was having sex with Jarvis. Of course, intercourse with Jarvis was physically impossible (though that excuse had never hindered Tony before), but Pepper had walked in on him jerking off rather emphatically to Jarvis' dulcet tones. She was a professional, and mostly averted her eyes, and stepped back, waiting outside until Tony-
She thought of slippers and puppies and warm mugs of tea. Nice, safe, comforting things. It didn't occur to her to indulge.
It was the beginning of a chain of events. Pepper didn't sense it as a start, because she had to live one day at a time in Tony's presence. She could never second-guess him, and even something so base as sex could mean nothing or everything with him. Pepper just supposed this was inevitable. Tony was an egotist, and narcissist, and any number of other -ists that didn't exactly throw him into a good light. Jarvis, being created in Tony's image, was inexorably going to be somewhere down the line on his list of sexual conquests.
"I believe Mr. Stark is quite finished," Jarvis told her a moment later, and he sounded, she swore, distinctly smug.
*
And then, the worst thing she caught him doing was bringing himself off, utterly wanton, by his own hand. Pepper suspected he had some exhibitionist blood in him, as Tony had never been private about his private life, and this was pushing the boundaries - she wondered if he was naked for himself, or for Jarvis, or for her.
Things needed to be done. He couldn't very well sit around jerking off all day when Pepper had three piles of mail with his name scrawled on each envelope. Pepper coughed, and things converged, and much to her displeasure, Tony managed to come saying her name.
"I'll come back when you're decent," Pepper muttered, wishing she had gone sooner.
Tony rolled to face her, breathing through his mouth. "Better had," he said, and then: "Pepper-?" But she only heard it underneath the click of the door closing behind her. She waited, and thought blankly on how much Tony complicated things.
"I think he likes you," Jarvis told her, quietly sly.
"I hate you, Jarvis," Pepper replied conversationally.
"Duly noted."
*
But the worst thing she caught him doing came after a whole string of fairly dire happenstances, with bullet-holes and blood, torn muscles and tempered egos. Pepper felt like the worried girlfriend left at home that Tony dreamt of, only with less benefits and more nagging. She reminded him daily of his death wish, but Tony brushed it off, saying he was far more of a masochist, and then getting lost in a tangent about a fabulous dominatrix he knew in his youth.
She went down to the workshop one previously inconspicuous morning with a mug of coffee and a stack of freshly printed photos for autographs - a habit of Tony's that Pepper deeply disapproved of. Tony was sitting at one end, cross-legged, on his office chair, and the suit was pottering about at the other, apparently doing a bad imitation of a human walking. They both waved at her. Pepper didn't quite drop the coffee, but the photos were long gone, pooling around her feet; a hundred Tony Starks gurning up at her.
"I'm teaching Jarvis how to pilot the suit," Tony explained, not moving to help her tidy up. "He's pretty crap."
"If I may interject, your first attempts with this equipment were rather more embarrassing, sir," Jarvis said. It was strange to hear his voice coming from the suit, contained in some hidden speaker, rather than booming out omnipresent around the house.
"I dread to think what hijinks you boys will get up to," Pepper said, smiling wryly.
"Hijinks? Me? I don't know what's led you to such a scurrilous conclusion, Ms. Potts," Tony replied, barely even feigning innocence. He threw a spanner in Jarvis' general direction, smiling like the Cheshire Cat as the suit's arm whipped out and grabbed it, mid-spin. "He's learning. You're learning!"
"Simple mathematics," Jarvis countered smoothly.
She had no idea. Pepper realised by now that Tony was in some kind of bizarre relationship with his in-house security system - a perfectly timed midlife crisis, she suspected - and knew just as well what that said about Tony as a people person. He wasn't one, of course. People were for business handshakes or nameless fucks; computers were his source of conversation. But Pepper didn't care to analyse this. It still wouldn't have prepared her for seeing her boss getting brought off by his own metal suit.
She wasn't spying, because that would be rude, and she wasn't watching, because that would be voyeurism, but Pepper hovered for a while outside Tony's workshop, just looking through the glass. Tony was standing, his jeans low and his hips stark, the suit behind him, practically holding him up - Jarvis, Jarvis behind him.
"Softer," he hissed. Pepper wondered whether it was cold, or warm, or if Tony could even tell the difference right now.
"Yeah," Tony sighed. "Yeah, softer."
*
The worst thing she ever caught him doing, though, she never technically caught him doing. But she knew he was behind it, because it made her flustered, and Pepper was always cool and collected and perfectly coifed around everyone except Tony - and only then when Tony was flirting with her. He wasn't. He spent his time doing deceptively innocent pastimes, like pretending to read the Bio-Mechanical Enhancement Programme's annual report, and designing new and increasingly florid versions of his suit, and making omelettes for Pepper when she was taking dictation. The last of these was unusually sweet, but couldn't quite be classed as flirting. Tony was too obvious for such subtleties.
"You're softening me up," Pepper accused mildly, as Tony made her a blissfully perfect coffee. "You're never this nice."
"I'm always this nice. You're just never around to see it."
"And I'm always around." Pepper sipped, and tried not to curl her toes. He was good. "What are you up to?"
"Such suspicion," Tony sighed dramatically, and sat down next to her, his chin in his hands. "Can't I treat my favourite assistant once in a while?"
"The last time you said that, I almost filed a lawsuit against you."
"My hands are naturally grabby. It's a sad affliction, but has perks nonetheless."
"I'm sure," Pepper murmured, smiling into her mug.
It wasn't Tony acting differently that made her notice something amiss - it was Jarvis. Jarvis was smart, that was a given, and had inherited some of Tony's flair, unavoidably injected between the lines of coding. He was civil to Pepper, and she in turn saw him as a work colleague that she would gladly go for a cocktail or two with, were he in possession of a body. And a liver to destroy.
She'd never had cause to wonder if he had a sex drive. Pepper doubted any sane engineer would programme their AI with hormones, but Pepper had always doubted Tony's sanity anyway.
Apparently, Jarvis had a crass side. "You're looking very pert this morning, Ms. Potts," he told her smoothly, one November morning, instead of the usual weather report.
"Jarvis?"
"Your breasts, Ms. Potts. A crude if effective indicator of the weather."
"My breasts are none of your concern," Pepper muttered, and pulled her jacket tightly across her chest. Jarvis said nothing, but she felt - and had never felt before in his constant presence - watched. She wasn't sure how much that rankled her.
She accused Tony of setting Jarvis on her tail, and he denied everything. "It's not my fault if men, women and computers alike lust over you," he said, pointedly not looking her over. "And that blouse really does bring out the best in your breasts."
They were double-teaming her, and honestly, that just wasn't fair.
*
It was the worst thing she caught him doing, because it affected her. It made her feel concerned and betrayed and turned on and, in some absent and peripheral way, adored.
He'd done it so that she could see. Tony knew she checked on his workshop last thing before she left, because Pepper had the added worry of the suit - whether it was locked down, whether it was safe, whether there were merely bullet grazes or entire limbs mangled. So he took them there.
The girl, the redhead, was slight and pale. She had freckles across her back, that Pepper could see, and hair that fell down in a single, elegant curve between her shoulder blades. She was taller than Tony - not by much, but enough that he had to look up to kiss her standing. The man was blonde and lean, high and English; that much she could hear in his faint murmurs. They pressed together, the three of them, skin against concrete floor and metal benches, coming down on the floor at the feet of the suit, proud and erect like some ancient idol. Tony ran his fingers through her hair, kissed him, licked at the curve of her neck, touched him on his thin stomach.
Pepper wondered if, like her, Jarvis was watching and seeing himself.
She left the house shaken. She looked at her bare back in the mirror that night, and tried to count her freckles.
*
By chance, the worst thing she caught him doing was offering her an invitation. It was one of those nonchalantly important moments in life, which Pepper might've missed if she had simply turned her head in the other direction. As it happened, she looked at Tony - and in truth, she was always going to have looked at Tony, because he pulled her gaze like an orbit: her star, her centre. Her thoughts seemed to have been converging on him too much lately. He was teasing her, seducing her, confusing her, all the while with something utterly serious in his eyes. And Jarvis had his role too, to sexualise Tony for her, to make her wonder - what if? What if we-?
He called her over with the incline of his head. The suit's fingers twitched, and Pepper wondered whether it was just a glitch in the circuits, or whether it was Jarvis, anticipating. Tony generally didn't allow for glitches.
"Mr. Stark-" she said.
"Pepper," he said.
"This is going to be one of those awkward moments, isn't it?" Pepper said, turning away from him. "Where you want something to happen, and you think I want it too, but I don't know, I can never be sure with you-"
"Pepper."
"Because this, this is all something beyond me. You can do anything you want, but I'm just-I can't, because I'm not you."
"Pepper," Tony said to her. "You're flustered. Stop that. It's very unbecoming, you know. You've got a far better vocabulary than that."
"You're making me nervous."
"I am? Do I intimidate you, Ms. Potts?"
"Not generally, Mr. Stark," she replied truthfully.
He offered her his hand. It was scarred and dry and open. Pepper bit the inside of her cheek, and took it. It was probably the worst thing she had ever done, but she decided not to regret it anyway.
"He's very good," Jarvis said from behind her. "I've been assured many times that had I a nervous system, I'd be ever so appreciative."
"You scare me, sometimes," Pepper told Tony. It didn't come out as casual as she'd meant. He smiled with his eyes anyway.
The suit didn't whir or clunk like Tony's household AI, but moved with a sleek hiss of air and the slightest creak of metal against metal. It made no sound at all against skin. Jarvis put his hand against Tony's arm first, as if to reassure Pepper that this was perfectly normal. It wasn't. She'd never had sex with her boss before, and had never even considered having sex with a robot. Tony told her constantly that it wasn't a robot, because it was under his control, but Jarvis was powering it now, and Tony's management of the thing was slipping further down the line.
"It's fine," Tony said. "We've saved the world. This is nothing." His tact was a rare and powerful thing.
Tony kissed her. It was much like Pepper had imaged, only so much better for its actuality - the warmth of his lips, the rasp of his beard, his hands staying restrained by her waist. She hadn't imagined Jarvis running his hands deftly through her hair, but it was pleasant enough. She didn't complain. "Do you give them all this much attention?" Pepper asked, as Tony unbuttoned her blouse, stroking her skin on the way down.
"Not nearly," he replied, kissing her stomach.
"On average, his encounters last approximately twenty-seven minutes and twelve seconds, from entering the bedroom to climax."
"See?" Tony looked up at her as he slid her skirt down past her knees. "Jarvis knows where it's at. I'll even let that insult to my prowess slip."
"Too kind of you, sir."
The suit's empty gauntlet pinched carefully at the hip of Pepper's knickers, pulling them down. She breathed in sharply, and gripped Tony's shoulders for support or reassurance. He gave both, his hands steadying her and his mouth curving up at the corner, pleased and curious.
She didn't ask him how this would affect their professional relationship, because he'd lie.
Jarvis touched her left breast and Tony held the right, and Pepper felt almost cleaved. There was only one mouth to kiss her, though, one life-worn set of palms to leave an imprint on her skin, so she held Tony, and let Jarvis go on with just gentle words of encouragement. "Softer," she whispered, the word so familiar.
"Softer," Jarvis echoed.
"Yeah," Tony finished.
*
The worst thing she caught him doing was not even trying to leave the morning after. "Well, this ruins everything," she muttered, put out.
"I've ballsed it up by not treating you like one of the girls? Christ. I didn't know you went for the love-'em and leave-'em type, Ms. Potts."
"I don't, Mr. Stark."
"I'll consider myself formally warned," Tony murmured, smiling to himself.
She put her hand on his bare chest and felt it rise and fall comfortingly. The glow of the arc reactor lit up his face in the dim morning light, showing her every tired line, every speck of stubble, every crease of his smile. The suit was propped in the corner of the room, arms crossed, facing the bed. It seemed to fit, Jarvis watching them, just as Pepper seemed to fit against the curve of Tony's chest.
It was, absurdly, just the worst happily ever after.