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Kindhearted Woman Blues, Tony/Pepper, PG-13
Kindhearted Woman Blues
Tony/Pepper, Tony/OMCs, 2358 words, PG-13
Title from the Robert Johnson song of the same name.
Six months after he introduces Iron Man to the whole world, Tony goes through a phase in which he only sleeps with men.
He's always had the occasional encounter, Pepper knows well- every once in a while, it's a man's suit scattered in pieces across the living room, jacket on the piano, pants wedged under the couch. She once found a tie stuck in the ceiling fan, actually. It took her twenty minutes to get it down, balancing on a dresser at two thirty in the morning so that she could get it to the dry-cleaners in time for them to have it back by sunrise. Pepper's very dedicated to her job.
But this is different. It's been three weeks since Pepper's warily picked another woman's underwear off the stairs.
He doesn't treat the men any better, of course. Just spends one night with them, doing- well, it's not really Pepper's place to imagine exactly what- and then leaves Pepper to do his dirty work.
"So, do you know when he'll be coming back?" The latest one says, clutching the hanger with his suit. This one's not that bright.
"I'm afraid Mr. Stark won't be available for a while," Pepper says.
"So maybe, later this afternoon?" he asks. He's kind of cute, actually. Green eyes and shaggy bangs, muscled biceps Pepper probably couldn't get a hand around, and a six pack too. Pepper can understand what Tony saw in him.
It's not enough, though.
"I'm sorry, sir," Pepper says, "Mr. Stark will be very busy the next few weeks."
He takes the hint, finally. "Ah," he says. "I see." It's not often that Tony takes home the ones naive enough to be really hurt. Pepper doesn't enjoy those mornings.
"Look," she says finally. "Would you like a quick cup of coffee before you go?"
"The cab-" he starts.
"It will wait," Pepper assures him, and leaves him to get dressed while she makes a fresh cup of espresso.
When he leaves- Pepper never caught his name. It's probably for the best, anyways.
Well, when he leaves, Pepper heads down to bring Tony his third cup of the morning, along with some paperwork he needs to sign off on. Pepper learned to forge his signature years back, but she thinks letting him sign a few things and attend to some of these minor details is good for him. Makes him more responsible. Plus, having to do a little bit of paperwork reminds him of how much he should appreciate Pepper for her ability to juggle the rest of it, and that allows Pepper to justify the raises she gives herself.
"Good morning, Tony," she says, setting down the coffee just out of range of his elbow.
He grunts what is probably supposed to be a greeting, concentration still focused on his work. He has a streak of grease on the back of his neck, right underneath where his hair just barely curls. It' s grown a little long- Pepper makes a note to schedule him a haircut, then mentally crosses it out again. It looks nice.
"I've left some things for you to sign. They're not too urgent but try to do them on your next coffee break, all right?" Pepper says, watching his shoulders flex.
"Uh huh," Tony says, distracted.
"And don't forget, you have that meeting with the new CFO at two thirty," Pepper says to his back. That's pretty much futile, she thinks- and she's proved right when Tony spins around in his chair.
"Cancel that," Tony says, tapping a wrench thoughtfully against his chin. "And good morning, Miss Potts." He smiles up at her, the kind of playful smirk that means his work is going well and his night went even better.
She's already canceled it. Pepper smiles back at him. "You know, I actually liked that one."
"The meeting?" Tony asks, draining his cup.
"No. Your- friend." Pepper doesn't talk to Tony about his late night companions. Never has, even before their awkward dance. Or rather, their awkward moment on the balcony. The dance itself was- smooth, and warm, and Pepper has known since the day she met him that her boss was an attractive man, but feeling his arms holding her up, his hands on her bare back, his breath on her neck, their legs brushing gently as they swayed- feeling the movement of his chest as he breathed, slightly harder than normal, like his heart was beating a little too hard behind that glowing circle- well, Pepper's crossed several lines for herself already. She may as well cross a few more.
She can read the way he's taken aback in the hesitation before he collects himself and speaks, smooth as ever. "I liked him too. That's why I brought him home," Tony says, with that smirk that's almost a leer.
"I just think that he was a good person, that's all," Pepper says, thinking about the way he'd laughed at her jokes over coffee.
"Yes, well," Tony fumbles for words a little. "That's not what I was interested in, Miss Potts," and his bravado is back.
Pepper takes his empty cup from Tony's clutch, handle still warm from his fingers. "Lunch at one?" she asks, already on her way upstairs.
"I might- I'll be a little late," Tony yells up after her. Pepper leaves the door open when she goes.
The thing is, it's not just one type that Tony's looking for in his bed. Pepper escorts out tall men, short men, men with dreads and tattoos and stammering professors, uptight executives and rich stoners bumming around on their parents' dollar.
Pepper's vaguely uneasy at the way she can't pin down a pattern. Usually when Tony starts acting unpredictably, it means she and Rhodey are about to have to go into full-on damage control mode, complete with press conferences and lectures and powerpoint presentations for Tony with slides explaining why exactly declaring to the entire world that he's a superhero was a terrible, terrible idea.
This time, though, he's acting completely normal otherwise- well, normal for an eccentric playboy genius with an expertise in man-sized robotic suits. He still pours drinks down Rhodey's well-mannered, responsible throat; he still blows off his company like it's an inconvenience rather than the financial source of all his polished cars and one-of-a-kind suits.
He still shows up at the door of Pepper's suite when he's bored and lonely.
"I brought you coffee," Tony says, holding out a cup, and that's new.
Pepper knows that if she takes a sip now, there will be no getting rid of him until he wanders off on his own. There's a pile of newspapers sitting next to her uneaten salad in the kitchen, a bathtub full of hot water steaming up her bathroom.
When she takes the ceramic mug from him, his thumb brushes the back of her hand. One of them slips- it's hard to tell- and Pepper ends up with a few drops of scalding hot coffee on her wrist.
"Ouch," she hisses, and puts the coffee down quickly on the table in her hall. Tony grabs her wrist, cradling it in his damp hand- probably still wet from washing off the inevitable engine grease- and pulls up the bottom of his shirt up to dab away the drops, showing a slim expanse of his belly.
"Thanks," Pepper says, and then half-laughs. "Oh god, do you know how much that shirt cost you?"
"No," Tony says, letting her go. "That's what I have you for, Pepper. So how much did you cost me this time?"
She picks up the coffee from the table, rolling her eyes. "Several hundred. This isn't bad, actually," Pepper says, taking a hesitant sip.
"You think so? Thanks," Tony says.
"You bought it," Pepper says.
"Yes." Tony says, smiling. "Don't you love that coffee shop on Crescent?"
"The coffee maker's not that hard," Pepper says, "Aren't you some sort of engineer? You should be able to figure it out, with time and practice."
"Ha ha," Tony says, dryly. "Anyways, that thing's not a machine, it's a monster."
"It makes good coffee," Pepper says. "You spent almost three thousand dollars on it."
"Did I?"
"You did."
"Well, I'm not usually wrong," Tony says, biting back a smile unsuccessfully. "So I guess it's probably good for something." He puts a hand on her lower back and starts nudging her towards her living room, in an oddly formal gesture.
He slumps down in her favorite chair and kicks his socked feet up onto her coffee table. Her back feels bare when he touched it, even beneath her blouse.
"So," Tony says.
"Oh," Pepper says, "I meant to tell you. That little boy in Zimbabwe-"
Tony leans forward, suddenly tight around the mouth.
"The one in the fire, that you pulled out-" Pepper clarifies pointlessly- "He's going to live."
Tony sits back, absently rubbing circles with his thumbs on his pants.
"His face- they said they could do reconstructive surgery, for the burns. Expensive, but-"
"You said we'd pay, right?" Tony interrupts. "For anything- for the whole procedure."
"Of course," Pepper says.
"Good," Tony says. He's still staring at the her carpet.
"So," Pepper says, after a moment, "Was there anything you wanted in particular?"
"Can't I just enjoy your company?" Tony says, running his palm along the armrest of her chair. He springs up and pours himself a glass of scotch from her cabinet, and stays for another two hours, curled up on her sofa with his socks off and his shirt stained with coffee.
Pepepr had a boyfriend for the first two years she worked exclusively for Tony, until he'd started complaining about her long hours and erratic schedule. She hadn't been suprised when he'd broken it off. In fact, she hadn't even been that displeased, though she'd protested half-heartedly.
"C'mon, Pepper," he'd said, touching her arm, "You took this job as a giant fuck you- to me, to your friends- when was the last time you talked to your mom?"
He'd been pretty bitter by that point, but she's fairly sure he had also been right. Her mother had died three years after that, and she'd regretted the silence- even considered quitting, finding new friends, a life outside of Tony Stark's mansion. Then Tony had been captured.
She'd spent the time wandering around his home, waiting for him to slam the doors open and stride in. Sitting on his absurdly expensive leather sofas, calling everyone she had ever talked to of any importance. When he had walked off that ramp, all his weak spots had become glaringly obvious and Pepper had deleted her resignation from her secret flash drive.
Anyways, it's not like she hasn't dated since then. She has dates, a lot of first dates. Sometimes she even takes them home. She and Tony, for all that he's joyfully tabloid fodder, have always agreed on the importance of keeping one's untidy emotions to oneself.
Pepper gets word, later that summer, that one of the larger tabloids (actually the second largest, in terms of circulation) will be running a front-page article on the Tony Stark, billionaire playboy and national (crazy) icon, and his "gay sexcapades".
"C'mon, that's been an open secret since I was eighteen," Tony says.
"The business world is a conservative place," Pepper points out, fruitlessly.
Tony laughs, shoving the magazine back across the table. "I like to think that by now, I've run all the conservatives out of Stark Industries."
"It's been a long time since you haven't been discreet, though," says Pepper, eyeing him, hands tightening around her coffee cup.
"Well, I guess I thought it was time for a change," he says, meeting her eyes.
She's not surprised when he kisses her for the first time, coming home from the one-year memorial of Obadiah's death, leaning in towards her on his couch. She's not even surprised that she kisses him back.
Pepper's just sickly fascinated at the way she can eventually push him away.
"What?" Tony says, mouth bruised, one hand still wrapped around her waist.
"You need someone you can trust," Pepper says.
Tony fumbles for words. "I have- Rhodey, and- Jarvis-"
"You need me," Pepper laces her fingers together to stop them shaking, "and you know this won't end well."
"I love you, Pepper," Tony says.
He's staring straight ahead, but she can hear him breathing hard, one hand fisted on his knee. He's a good man, Pepper thinks, pressing her lips together sharply to fight back tears.
She puts a hand over his, nudging at his fingers until they fall apart, letting her grab a tight hold on his palm. They sit like that for a while, touching at palms and knees and shoulders, until Jarvis sends out an alert- there's a hostage situation in Beirut.
Pepper holds on just a second longer, then pulls her hand from his and stands. "Bye, Tony," she says. He's still sitting on the couch in front of her, shoulders hunched, looking small and wounded for another minute.
Then he stands too, and all of a sudden he's taller than her again, strong and smelling like sweat and grease and that cologne she bought him for his birthday. "Bye, Pepper."
When she hears the roar of the suit above the shaking of the house as he soars off, Pepper takes off her shoes and pours herself a drink.
"Good morning, Ms. Potts," Tony says, as she hurries downstairs. He's got one leg in the mangled-looking suit and the other planted on the floor beside him. It doesn't look particularly comfortable. "It is morning, correct?"
"Six thirty," Pepper says. Jarvis had alerted her to the problems with Tony's suit as soon as he'd arrived back from Lebanon. She had been making another pot of coffee, and spilled some on her skirt. She'll have to change at lunch.
"Anyways, I think someone got off a few lucky shots. Took out this knee," he says, yanking at the front panels. "Could you hand me that- no, on top- yeah that."
Pepper rolls up the sleeves of her cashmere sweater. She has work to do.
Tony/Pepper, Tony/OMCs, 2358 words, PG-13
Title from the Robert Johnson song of the same name.
Six months after he introduces Iron Man to the whole world, Tony goes through a phase in which he only sleeps with men.
He's always had the occasional encounter, Pepper knows well- every once in a while, it's a man's suit scattered in pieces across the living room, jacket on the piano, pants wedged under the couch. She once found a tie stuck in the ceiling fan, actually. It took her twenty minutes to get it down, balancing on a dresser at two thirty in the morning so that she could get it to the dry-cleaners in time for them to have it back by sunrise. Pepper's very dedicated to her job.
But this is different. It's been three weeks since Pepper's warily picked another woman's underwear off the stairs.
He doesn't treat the men any better, of course. Just spends one night with them, doing- well, it's not really Pepper's place to imagine exactly what- and then leaves Pepper to do his dirty work.
"So, do you know when he'll be coming back?" The latest one says, clutching the hanger with his suit. This one's not that bright.
"I'm afraid Mr. Stark won't be available for a while," Pepper says.
"So maybe, later this afternoon?" he asks. He's kind of cute, actually. Green eyes and shaggy bangs, muscled biceps Pepper probably couldn't get a hand around, and a six pack too. Pepper can understand what Tony saw in him.
It's not enough, though.
"I'm sorry, sir," Pepper says, "Mr. Stark will be very busy the next few weeks."
He takes the hint, finally. "Ah," he says. "I see." It's not often that Tony takes home the ones naive enough to be really hurt. Pepper doesn't enjoy those mornings.
"Look," she says finally. "Would you like a quick cup of coffee before you go?"
"The cab-" he starts.
"It will wait," Pepper assures him, and leaves him to get dressed while she makes a fresh cup of espresso.
When he leaves- Pepper never caught his name. It's probably for the best, anyways.
Well, when he leaves, Pepper heads down to bring Tony his third cup of the morning, along with some paperwork he needs to sign off on. Pepper learned to forge his signature years back, but she thinks letting him sign a few things and attend to some of these minor details is good for him. Makes him more responsible. Plus, having to do a little bit of paperwork reminds him of how much he should appreciate Pepper for her ability to juggle the rest of it, and that allows Pepper to justify the raises she gives herself.
"Good morning, Tony," she says, setting down the coffee just out of range of his elbow.
He grunts what is probably supposed to be a greeting, concentration still focused on his work. He has a streak of grease on the back of his neck, right underneath where his hair just barely curls. It' s grown a little long- Pepper makes a note to schedule him a haircut, then mentally crosses it out again. It looks nice.
"I've left some things for you to sign. They're not too urgent but try to do them on your next coffee break, all right?" Pepper says, watching his shoulders flex.
"Uh huh," Tony says, distracted.
"And don't forget, you have that meeting with the new CFO at two thirty," Pepper says to his back. That's pretty much futile, she thinks- and she's proved right when Tony spins around in his chair.
"Cancel that," Tony says, tapping a wrench thoughtfully against his chin. "And good morning, Miss Potts." He smiles up at her, the kind of playful smirk that means his work is going well and his night went even better.
She's already canceled it. Pepper smiles back at him. "You know, I actually liked that one."
"The meeting?" Tony asks, draining his cup.
"No. Your- friend." Pepper doesn't talk to Tony about his late night companions. Never has, even before their awkward dance. Or rather, their awkward moment on the balcony. The dance itself was- smooth, and warm, and Pepper has known since the day she met him that her boss was an attractive man, but feeling his arms holding her up, his hands on her bare back, his breath on her neck, their legs brushing gently as they swayed- feeling the movement of his chest as he breathed, slightly harder than normal, like his heart was beating a little too hard behind that glowing circle- well, Pepper's crossed several lines for herself already. She may as well cross a few more.
She can read the way he's taken aback in the hesitation before he collects himself and speaks, smooth as ever. "I liked him too. That's why I brought him home," Tony says, with that smirk that's almost a leer.
"I just think that he was a good person, that's all," Pepper says, thinking about the way he'd laughed at her jokes over coffee.
"Yes, well," Tony fumbles for words a little. "That's not what I was interested in, Miss Potts," and his bravado is back.
Pepper takes his empty cup from Tony's clutch, handle still warm from his fingers. "Lunch at one?" she asks, already on her way upstairs.
"I might- I'll be a little late," Tony yells up after her. Pepper leaves the door open when she goes.
The thing is, it's not just one type that Tony's looking for in his bed. Pepper escorts out tall men, short men, men with dreads and tattoos and stammering professors, uptight executives and rich stoners bumming around on their parents' dollar.
Pepper's vaguely uneasy at the way she can't pin down a pattern. Usually when Tony starts acting unpredictably, it means she and Rhodey are about to have to go into full-on damage control mode, complete with press conferences and lectures and powerpoint presentations for Tony with slides explaining why exactly declaring to the entire world that he's a superhero was a terrible, terrible idea.
This time, though, he's acting completely normal otherwise- well, normal for an eccentric playboy genius with an expertise in man-sized robotic suits. He still pours drinks down Rhodey's well-mannered, responsible throat; he still blows off his company like it's an inconvenience rather than the financial source of all his polished cars and one-of-a-kind suits.
He still shows up at the door of Pepper's suite when he's bored and lonely.
"I brought you coffee," Tony says, holding out a cup, and that's new.
Pepper knows that if she takes a sip now, there will be no getting rid of him until he wanders off on his own. There's a pile of newspapers sitting next to her uneaten salad in the kitchen, a bathtub full of hot water steaming up her bathroom.
When she takes the ceramic mug from him, his thumb brushes the back of her hand. One of them slips- it's hard to tell- and Pepper ends up with a few drops of scalding hot coffee on her wrist.
"Ouch," she hisses, and puts the coffee down quickly on the table in her hall. Tony grabs her wrist, cradling it in his damp hand- probably still wet from washing off the inevitable engine grease- and pulls up the bottom of his shirt up to dab away the drops, showing a slim expanse of his belly.
"Thanks," Pepper says, and then half-laughs. "Oh god, do you know how much that shirt cost you?"
"No," Tony says, letting her go. "That's what I have you for, Pepper. So how much did you cost me this time?"
She picks up the coffee from the table, rolling her eyes. "Several hundred. This isn't bad, actually," Pepper says, taking a hesitant sip.
"You think so? Thanks," Tony says.
"You bought it," Pepper says.
"Yes." Tony says, smiling. "Don't you love that coffee shop on Crescent?"
"The coffee maker's not that hard," Pepper says, "Aren't you some sort of engineer? You should be able to figure it out, with time and practice."
"Ha ha," Tony says, dryly. "Anyways, that thing's not a machine, it's a monster."
"It makes good coffee," Pepper says. "You spent almost three thousand dollars on it."
"Did I?"
"You did."
"Well, I'm not usually wrong," Tony says, biting back a smile unsuccessfully. "So I guess it's probably good for something." He puts a hand on her lower back and starts nudging her towards her living room, in an oddly formal gesture.
He slumps down in her favorite chair and kicks his socked feet up onto her coffee table. Her back feels bare when he touched it, even beneath her blouse.
"So," Tony says.
"Oh," Pepper says, "I meant to tell you. That little boy in Zimbabwe-"
Tony leans forward, suddenly tight around the mouth.
"The one in the fire, that you pulled out-" Pepper clarifies pointlessly- "He's going to live."
Tony sits back, absently rubbing circles with his thumbs on his pants.
"His face- they said they could do reconstructive surgery, for the burns. Expensive, but-"
"You said we'd pay, right?" Tony interrupts. "For anything- for the whole procedure."
"Of course," Pepper says.
"Good," Tony says. He's still staring at the her carpet.
"So," Pepper says, after a moment, "Was there anything you wanted in particular?"
"Can't I just enjoy your company?" Tony says, running his palm along the armrest of her chair. He springs up and pours himself a glass of scotch from her cabinet, and stays for another two hours, curled up on her sofa with his socks off and his shirt stained with coffee.
Pepepr had a boyfriend for the first two years she worked exclusively for Tony, until he'd started complaining about her long hours and erratic schedule. She hadn't been suprised when he'd broken it off. In fact, she hadn't even been that displeased, though she'd protested half-heartedly.
"C'mon, Pepper," he'd said, touching her arm, "You took this job as a giant fuck you- to me, to your friends- when was the last time you talked to your mom?"
He'd been pretty bitter by that point, but she's fairly sure he had also been right. Her mother had died three years after that, and she'd regretted the silence- even considered quitting, finding new friends, a life outside of Tony Stark's mansion. Then Tony had been captured.
She'd spent the time wandering around his home, waiting for him to slam the doors open and stride in. Sitting on his absurdly expensive leather sofas, calling everyone she had ever talked to of any importance. When he had walked off that ramp, all his weak spots had become glaringly obvious and Pepper had deleted her resignation from her secret flash drive.
Anyways, it's not like she hasn't dated since then. She has dates, a lot of first dates. Sometimes she even takes them home. She and Tony, for all that he's joyfully tabloid fodder, have always agreed on the importance of keeping one's untidy emotions to oneself.
Pepper gets word, later that summer, that one of the larger tabloids (actually the second largest, in terms of circulation) will be running a front-page article on the Tony Stark, billionaire playboy and national (crazy) icon, and his "gay sexcapades".
"C'mon, that's been an open secret since I was eighteen," Tony says.
"The business world is a conservative place," Pepper points out, fruitlessly.
Tony laughs, shoving the magazine back across the table. "I like to think that by now, I've run all the conservatives out of Stark Industries."
"It's been a long time since you haven't been discreet, though," says Pepper, eyeing him, hands tightening around her coffee cup.
"Well, I guess I thought it was time for a change," he says, meeting her eyes.
She's not surprised when he kisses her for the first time, coming home from the one-year memorial of Obadiah's death, leaning in towards her on his couch. She's not even surprised that she kisses him back.
Pepper's just sickly fascinated at the way she can eventually push him away.
"What?" Tony says, mouth bruised, one hand still wrapped around her waist.
"You need someone you can trust," Pepper says.
Tony fumbles for words. "I have- Rhodey, and- Jarvis-"
"You need me," Pepper laces her fingers together to stop them shaking, "and you know this won't end well."
"I love you, Pepper," Tony says.
He's staring straight ahead, but she can hear him breathing hard, one hand fisted on his knee. He's a good man, Pepper thinks, pressing her lips together sharply to fight back tears.
She puts a hand over his, nudging at his fingers until they fall apart, letting her grab a tight hold on his palm. They sit like that for a while, touching at palms and knees and shoulders, until Jarvis sends out an alert- there's a hostage situation in Beirut.
Pepper holds on just a second longer, then pulls her hand from his and stands. "Bye, Tony," she says. He's still sitting on the couch in front of her, shoulders hunched, looking small and wounded for another minute.
Then he stands too, and all of a sudden he's taller than her again, strong and smelling like sweat and grease and that cologne she bought him for his birthday. "Bye, Pepper."
When she hears the roar of the suit above the shaking of the house as he soars off, Pepper takes off her shoes and pours herself a drink.
"Good morning, Ms. Potts," Tony says, as she hurries downstairs. He's got one leg in the mangled-looking suit and the other planted on the floor beside him. It doesn't look particularly comfortable. "It is morning, correct?"
"Six thirty," Pepper says. Jarvis had alerted her to the problems with Tony's suit as soon as he'd arrived back from Lebanon. She had been making another pot of coffee, and spilled some on her skirt. She'll have to change at lunch.
"Anyways, I think someone got off a few lucky shots. Took out this knee," he says, yanking at the front panels. "Could you hand me that- no, on top- yeah that."
Pepper rolls up the sleeves of her cashmere sweater. She has work to do.