Fahrenheit
A little one-shot from the Iron Man universe. Tony/Pepper. :)
It's been a while.......
~~~~~~~~
With an ice-clinking glass of something strong and adult in one hand, and a fine Havana in the other, Tony Stark, after a day in his workshop tinkering with Version 4, creaked his slightly achy bones to the workshop shower, donned what he thought was an ensemble of elegant-casual, then went upstairs to stretch his regrettably average-length legs across his spotless sectional (whoops, there goes the ash) and contemplate the falling night outside the window, fancying he made quite a striking tableau for anyone who would happen upon him--deserving, really, of another five-page spread in GQ, though he would have to do something about that streak of grey that had decided to sprout from his left temple like a tiresome weed.....
Despite the fact that it was spring (in southern California, no less), and the weather that evening was more than warm for that time of year, there was a hearty fire in the living room grate, and the thermostat was turned to a balmy 26 degrees Celsius (79 degrees Fahrenheit for the less scientifically endowed); for after having endured the frigid cold (and worse) within the caves of Afghanistan, Tony Stark tended to prefer his environment well above 15C (or 60F, you peasants), and so he didn't at all mind the faint sheen of perspiration that misted his forehead, though his underarms--dammit, did he forget his deodorant?
"It's like a furnace in here. And what is that supposed to be?"
With a smile he could barely pretend to hide, Tony turned his head toward the source of the voice, and to the tall (almost lanky, really) cinnamon-haired schoolmarm who stood at the top of the steps with her arms crossed, he replied "What is what supposed to be?"
"That," Pepper said, gesturing a long narrow hand toward his postured frame. "You look like some cheesy ad for Chivas Regal."
"V.S.O.P., thank you very much, and besides, I like it warm," Tony answered before taking a long sip from his glass, smiled. "And anyway, what are you doing traipsing around here without your heels? I usually can hear you clacking and clattering all over the place about five minutes before you show up anywhere," he added, pointing his cigar toward the rather boring flats Pepper wore on her rather long feet.
"I wasn't aware heels were a part of my job description," Pepper replied, trying to suppress a smirk.
"You should know better then," Tony said, inserting the cigar in his mouth and grinning around it like an antihero. "Page 26, Section 2, Line 17: Assistant shall be required to wear high heels no less than three inches tall, and which cost no less than five hundred dollars a pair. I suggest you re-read your employee contract, for no doubt there are other things you're not attending to properly, which I can't name off the top of my head right now."
"And how am I to afford a five hundred-dollar pair of shoes?"
"What about that pair I bought you last month?"
"One of the heels broke off, remember? When I was helping you with that--with that whatever it was in your workshop."
"Oh, that's right. You need another pair?"
"I'd rather have the money, thanks."
"Oh come on," Tony said with mock irritation as he shifted on the sofa and another ash dropped from his cigar onto the cushion. "Aren't you the best-paid assistant in the state already? And we've had budget cuts, like everybody else. Or don't you read the news?"
"I hope you don't expect me to clean that up," Pepper answered, pointing to the small pile of ash on the cushion.
"Don't change the subject."
"You're the one who keeps changing the subject, since you never told me why you're lounging on the couch like that."
"Like what?" Tony grinned. "And don't give me that noise about Chivas Regal again either."
"If the shoe fits...."
"Sometimes you're so boring I could cry," Tony said irritably as he shifted again on the sofa and settled into a more conventional position. "Is this better, Your Highness? Or maybe...."
At this Tony leaned back on the sofa, propped his feet on the coffee table, and unbuttoned the top two buttons on his shirt while he said "Now then. Is this more like a working joe relaxing after a hard day at the office? Or should I have a can of beer in my hand too? What do you think? You want to fetch me a beer from somewhere, Ms. Potts?"
"I would, except I have to go somewhere," Pepper said, this time making no effort to hide her smirk.
"Well it must not be a date, because you certainly wouldn't change into flats for a date I hope," Tony observed, quirking a dark eyebrow at her. "Unless he's the type who likes to listen to acoustic guitar and go to poetry readings and things like that."
"Oh, so you know him then?" Pepper smiled, then turned round and stepped soundlessly out of the room before Tony could even reply.
"Dammit," Tony Stark said after while into the empty room, though only the falling ashes within the grate of the fireplace produced any answer.
It's been a while.......
~~~~~~~~
With an ice-clinking glass of something strong and adult in one hand, and a fine Havana in the other, Tony Stark, after a day in his workshop tinkering with Version 4, creaked his slightly achy bones to the workshop shower, donned what he thought was an ensemble of elegant-casual, then went upstairs to stretch his regrettably average-length legs across his spotless sectional (whoops, there goes the ash) and contemplate the falling night outside the window, fancying he made quite a striking tableau for anyone who would happen upon him--deserving, really, of another five-page spread in GQ, though he would have to do something about that streak of grey that had decided to sprout from his left temple like a tiresome weed.....
Despite the fact that it was spring (in southern California, no less), and the weather that evening was more than warm for that time of year, there was a hearty fire in the living room grate, and the thermostat was turned to a balmy 26 degrees Celsius (79 degrees Fahrenheit for the less scientifically endowed); for after having endured the frigid cold (and worse) within the caves of Afghanistan, Tony Stark tended to prefer his environment well above 15C (or 60F, you peasants), and so he didn't at all mind the faint sheen of perspiration that misted his forehead, though his underarms--dammit, did he forget his deodorant?
"It's like a furnace in here. And what is that supposed to be?"
With a smile he could barely pretend to hide, Tony turned his head toward the source of the voice, and to the tall (almost lanky, really) cinnamon-haired schoolmarm who stood at the top of the steps with her arms crossed, he replied "What is what supposed to be?"
"That," Pepper said, gesturing a long narrow hand toward his postured frame. "You look like some cheesy ad for Chivas Regal."
"V.S.O.P., thank you very much, and besides, I like it warm," Tony answered before taking a long sip from his glass, smiled. "And anyway, what are you doing traipsing around here without your heels? I usually can hear you clacking and clattering all over the place about five minutes before you show up anywhere," he added, pointing his cigar toward the rather boring flats Pepper wore on her rather long feet.
"I wasn't aware heels were a part of my job description," Pepper replied, trying to suppress a smirk.
"You should know better then," Tony said, inserting the cigar in his mouth and grinning around it like an antihero. "Page 26, Section 2, Line 17: Assistant shall be required to wear high heels no less than three inches tall, and which cost no less than five hundred dollars a pair. I suggest you re-read your employee contract, for no doubt there are other things you're not attending to properly, which I can't name off the top of my head right now."
"And how am I to afford a five hundred-dollar pair of shoes?"
"What about that pair I bought you last month?"
"One of the heels broke off, remember? When I was helping you with that--with that whatever it was in your workshop."
"Oh, that's right. You need another pair?"
"I'd rather have the money, thanks."
"Oh come on," Tony said with mock irritation as he shifted on the sofa and another ash dropped from his cigar onto the cushion. "Aren't you the best-paid assistant in the state already? And we've had budget cuts, like everybody else. Or don't you read the news?"
"I hope you don't expect me to clean that up," Pepper answered, pointing to the small pile of ash on the cushion.
"Don't change the subject."
"You're the one who keeps changing the subject, since you never told me why you're lounging on the couch like that."
"Like what?" Tony grinned. "And don't give me that noise about Chivas Regal again either."
"If the shoe fits...."
"Sometimes you're so boring I could cry," Tony said irritably as he shifted again on the sofa and settled into a more conventional position. "Is this better, Your Highness? Or maybe...."
At this Tony leaned back on the sofa, propped his feet on the coffee table, and unbuttoned the top two buttons on his shirt while he said "Now then. Is this more like a working joe relaxing after a hard day at the office? Or should I have a can of beer in my hand too? What do you think? You want to fetch me a beer from somewhere, Ms. Potts?"
"I would, except I have to go somewhere," Pepper said, this time making no effort to hide her smirk.
"Well it must not be a date, because you certainly wouldn't change into flats for a date I hope," Tony observed, quirking a dark eyebrow at her. "Unless he's the type who likes to listen to acoustic guitar and go to poetry readings and things like that."
"Oh, so you know him then?" Pepper smiled, then turned round and stepped soundlessly out of the room before Tony could even reply.
"Dammit," Tony Stark said after while into the empty room, though only the falling ashes within the grate of the fireplace produced any answer.