Blind Dates (1/1) plus bonus niblet
A niblet first, because it wouldn't get out of my head.
Title: Anything and Everything
Author: ninamazing, or Nina
Fandom: Iron Man (I AM TAKING THE PLUNGE! \o/ )
Word Count: 275
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: mild, for movie the first
Characters: Tony/Pepper, etc.
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She was the final employee of the Coconut Gentleman's Club to be a notch in Tony's bedpost, but the first to put up a fight when Pepper met her in the morning.
"He must have a gajillion fancy shirts," she said, and Pepper tried not to notice all of the places where the dancer's glittery eyeshadow had spread.
"Yes," she answered, keeping her voice even, "he does. But as it turns out, not enough to give away to everyone who might want one."
"It smells like him," the woman offered, and it was the strongest effort of Pepper's week to keep her eyebrow down.
Body odor and engine grease and more money than God, right? Pepper almost said, but instead forced a smooth smile.
"I'll need it back," she repeated.
"I'll give it back to him next time," the Coconut returned. It was the second strongest effort of Pepper's week not to roll her eyes.
"I don't think it's wise to count on a next time," she said.
"You don't understand -"
"No, you don't understand," Pepper interrupted. "This is an Armani. Part of a limited edition spring line that took no fewer than twenty-nine phone calls and a hell of a lot of hand-shaking to acquire. It belongs in the Stark household, and if you don't believe me you can ask dear Giorgio himself. But don't you dare take it up with Tony, ever. Now put on your clothes."
Inside of ten minutes Pepper was back in her office, sipping her third pre-noon cappuccino.
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And now, like, the actual fic. Yep.
Title: Blind Dates
Author: ninamazing, or Nina
Fandom: Iron Man
Word Count: 1157
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: set mid-first movie
Characters: Tony/Pepper
Excerpt: As chance would have it, the next one is another cute reporter: she's all orange curls and sass and knocking back whiskey sours like it's a competition, so Tony competes.
Author's Note: Edited and brought to life by noblealice, whom I happen to fucking love.
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It is the former college roommate of Pepper's former college roommate's husband, whom nobody bothered to mention was also Pepper's former college roommate's ex. Pepper might have thought they were discounting her memory, but Alice and Steve have known her for more than a decade. Pepper called their bluff.
"I was only with him for about a week," Alice protested. "You must remember that too."
Pepper shrugged. "It felt like longer. You were noisy."
"Hey!" Steve rubbed Alice's arm, and a spark of something flitted across Pepper's vision - this morning, in the shop, sidling up next to Tony with his favorite wire stripper; the pale/black/pale of their hands on the tool as he took it from her. She hated Steve and Alice both, suddenly, and just to spite them (however that works) she slipped into strappy Jimmy Choos and went.
They were in fact counting on her memory, on perhaps her nostalgia, and on - most insultingly - her desperation. Pepper very much wants to vomit after the first cocktail, apologize, and get the hell back to her laptop, but it's not in the cards.
Loud Castoff has done well for himself, got an MBA at Harvard somehow, and spent twenty minutes yammering Stark Industries stock forecasts at her while she tried to price his suit. Zegna, last year's fall line. She'd suggested a few to Tony for a flurry of meetings with the new director of DARPA, but he found out she was female and declared them not flashy enough. Pepper smiles to herself.
Harvard misinterprets it. "It would be hilarious, right? If you weren't so fucked? I mean - what are you guys gonna do?"
He wants her to say she doesn't know. He wants her to say Tony's insane, Tony's stupid, Tony's a liability; she'd be shouting back all the words lawyers have been flinging at her for years, all the words she hears in the shadows as they bounce off Tony and back to Obadiah, making him angrier. He wants her to say Stark Industries is doomed; the triple sin of a CEO kidnapped, tortured, brainwashed in captivity is too much for even Wall Street to tolerate.
"I guess it's a good thing with your job you're not involved in too much of the strategic decision-making," Harvard jokes, filling in her silence. "Just keep the appointment books, eh? And even that must be a real doozy."
Pepper smiles, again. This time it's the smile she used to give junior supermodels when Tony wasn't coming back, when Tony was in fact already out of the country.
"Yeah. You know what, Harvard -"
"Brian, my name is Brian -"
"Yeah, well, I don't get paid to remember your name, because you haven't spent your life building and inventing the technology that keeps this country and everyone in it in one piece. I don't get paid for anything right now, actually, as this was supposed to be a date. A nice date even. Goodbye, Brian."
Another spark goes off in her mind - that goofy, inviting smile of his when he's just finished a prototype and it's 3:23 a.m. and there's literally no one else to show it to, so it's gotta be you, Potts, and take special note of that badass precision work on the turbines.
Pepper grabs the glass of wine and takes it with her; it's a gorgeous syrah from a vineyard practically down the street, and Harvard - Brian - can be the one to deal with furious restaurant staff, tonight.
Tonight, she, Pepper Potts, is going home, drinking quietly in the back of a cab, wondering just what, exactly, she might possibly be thinking.
As chance would have it, the next one is another cute reporter: she's all orange curls and sass and knocking back whiskey sours like it's a competition, so Tony competes. Comes very close to winning, too. He forgets, though; loosens his tie, unbuttons his shirt. When she catches sight of his chest her eyes gleam front-page victory.
He holds up a finger. "Proprietary, honey. Personal, I mean. I've got this malfunctioning laser pointer -"
"Are you kidding me? That's the Heart Reactor, isn't it?"
"I - what? No. No. I have most certainly never built anything called ... that."
She's grinning, like this is funny. He can't believe a moment ago he almost kind of maybe wanted to fuck her.
"Makes sense, doesn't it? It powers your heart." Jesus, she's well-connected. Or smart, and painfully persistent. Or both.
"I didn't say it did that. I didn't say it existed. What part of 'malfunctioning laser pointer' -"
"Laser pointers don't look like that."
"Oh, we've gone to engineering school, have we?"
Sassy Reporter's smile is, well, sassy. Her lips are puffed, ready, adorned with the finest crimson; the whiskey's cast a telling tinge to her skin that reminds him of Pepper.
Pepper drunk would be much more fun. That's a thought; he's got to hold on to that one for later.
"Are you this charming with all the girls?"
"Most of the girls don't ask this many questions, to be honest with you. And they tend to be really amused by my laser pointer."
Sassy's got a notebook out; shit they're fast. When did she start taking notes? He'll have to get Pepper to have someone from Legal scare her away, tomorrow first thing.
"So you deny that what I just saw was the miniaturized Arc Reactor you built to heal yourself and power your escape from Afghanistan."
"There's a little thing called a non-disclosure agreement, sweetheart, which technically you have to sign to even sit here, with me, at my favorite table in my favorite bar. We're not talking business. I've said nothing." Tony signals, and the bodyguard is there, driver waiting.
"I didn't see Vanity Fair signing an NDA."
"I gotta go. No fucking comment. Try your source at Gossip Girl."
The dusting of freckles, which he had found so cute when they first sat down, now was fire engine red and making his eyeballs ache. He turned away from Sassy Reporter, and let himself be hustled into the limo and its all-too-welcoming cushions. If he falls asleep they'll just carry him upstairs, drop him on the four-poster; and in the morning Pepper will give him a lecture about unhealthy sleeping habits and rumpling $8000 suits and how to get drool off your chin before the urgent board of directors review. He's looking forward to it already.
"'M not drooling," he insists, rubbing his cheek against the cushion. Yes. Very convincing.
+
Poll Anything and Everything, Blind Dates
Title: Anything and Everything
Author: ninamazing, or Nina
Fandom: Iron Man (I AM TAKING THE PLUNGE! \o/ )
Word Count: 275
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: mild, for movie the first
Characters: Tony/Pepper, etc.
+
She was the final employee of the Coconut Gentleman's Club to be a notch in Tony's bedpost, but the first to put up a fight when Pepper met her in the morning.
"He must have a gajillion fancy shirts," she said, and Pepper tried not to notice all of the places where the dancer's glittery eyeshadow had spread.
"Yes," she answered, keeping her voice even, "he does. But as it turns out, not enough to give away to everyone who might want one."
"It smells like him," the woman offered, and it was the strongest effort of Pepper's week to keep her eyebrow down.
Body odor and engine grease and more money than God, right? Pepper almost said, but instead forced a smooth smile.
"I'll need it back," she repeated.
"I'll give it back to him next time," the Coconut returned. It was the second strongest effort of Pepper's week not to roll her eyes.
"I don't think it's wise to count on a next time," she said.
"You don't understand -"
"No, you don't understand," Pepper interrupted. "This is an Armani. Part of a limited edition spring line that took no fewer than twenty-nine phone calls and a hell of a lot of hand-shaking to acquire. It belongs in the Stark household, and if you don't believe me you can ask dear Giorgio himself. But don't you dare take it up with Tony, ever. Now put on your clothes."
Inside of ten minutes Pepper was back in her office, sipping her third pre-noon cappuccino.
+
And now, like, the actual fic. Yep.
Title: Blind Dates
Author: ninamazing, or Nina
Fandom: Iron Man
Word Count: 1157
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: set mid-first movie
Characters: Tony/Pepper
Excerpt: As chance would have it, the next one is another cute reporter: she's all orange curls and sass and knocking back whiskey sours like it's a competition, so Tony competes.
Author's Note: Edited and brought to life by noblealice, whom I happen to fucking love.
+
It is the former college roommate of Pepper's former college roommate's husband, whom nobody bothered to mention was also Pepper's former college roommate's ex. Pepper might have thought they were discounting her memory, but Alice and Steve have known her for more than a decade. Pepper called their bluff.
"I was only with him for about a week," Alice protested. "You must remember that too."
Pepper shrugged. "It felt like longer. You were noisy."
"Hey!" Steve rubbed Alice's arm, and a spark of something flitted across Pepper's vision - this morning, in the shop, sidling up next to Tony with his favorite wire stripper; the pale/black/pale of their hands on the tool as he took it from her. She hated Steve and Alice both, suddenly, and just to spite them (however that works) she slipped into strappy Jimmy Choos and went.
They were in fact counting on her memory, on perhaps her nostalgia, and on - most insultingly - her desperation. Pepper very much wants to vomit after the first cocktail, apologize, and get the hell back to her laptop, but it's not in the cards.
Loud Castoff has done well for himself, got an MBA at Harvard somehow, and spent twenty minutes yammering Stark Industries stock forecasts at her while she tried to price his suit. Zegna, last year's fall line. She'd suggested a few to Tony for a flurry of meetings with the new director of DARPA, but he found out she was female and declared them not flashy enough. Pepper smiles to herself.
Harvard misinterprets it. "It would be hilarious, right? If you weren't so fucked? I mean - what are you guys gonna do?"
He wants her to say she doesn't know. He wants her to say Tony's insane, Tony's stupid, Tony's a liability; she'd be shouting back all the words lawyers have been flinging at her for years, all the words she hears in the shadows as they bounce off Tony and back to Obadiah, making him angrier. He wants her to say Stark Industries is doomed; the triple sin of a CEO kidnapped, tortured, brainwashed in captivity is too much for even Wall Street to tolerate.
"I guess it's a good thing with your job you're not involved in too much of the strategic decision-making," Harvard jokes, filling in her silence. "Just keep the appointment books, eh? And even that must be a real doozy."
Pepper smiles, again. This time it's the smile she used to give junior supermodels when Tony wasn't coming back, when Tony was in fact already out of the country.
"Yeah. You know what, Harvard -"
"Brian, my name is Brian -"
"Yeah, well, I don't get paid to remember your name, because you haven't spent your life building and inventing the technology that keeps this country and everyone in it in one piece. I don't get paid for anything right now, actually, as this was supposed to be a date. A nice date even. Goodbye, Brian."
Another spark goes off in her mind - that goofy, inviting smile of his when he's just finished a prototype and it's 3:23 a.m. and there's literally no one else to show it to, so it's gotta be you, Potts, and take special note of that badass precision work on the turbines.
Pepper grabs the glass of wine and takes it with her; it's a gorgeous syrah from a vineyard practically down the street, and Harvard - Brian - can be the one to deal with furious restaurant staff, tonight.
Tonight, she, Pepper Potts, is going home, drinking quietly in the back of a cab, wondering just what, exactly, she might possibly be thinking.
As chance would have it, the next one is another cute reporter: she's all orange curls and sass and knocking back whiskey sours like it's a competition, so Tony competes. Comes very close to winning, too. He forgets, though; loosens his tie, unbuttons his shirt. When she catches sight of his chest her eyes gleam front-page victory.
He holds up a finger. "Proprietary, honey. Personal, I mean. I've got this malfunctioning laser pointer -"
"Are you kidding me? That's the Heart Reactor, isn't it?"
"I - what? No. No. I have most certainly never built anything called ... that."
She's grinning, like this is funny. He can't believe a moment ago he almost kind of maybe wanted to fuck her.
"Makes sense, doesn't it? It powers your heart." Jesus, she's well-connected. Or smart, and painfully persistent. Or both.
"I didn't say it did that. I didn't say it existed. What part of 'malfunctioning laser pointer' -"
"Laser pointers don't look like that."
"Oh, we've gone to engineering school, have we?"
Sassy Reporter's smile is, well, sassy. Her lips are puffed, ready, adorned with the finest crimson; the whiskey's cast a telling tinge to her skin that reminds him of Pepper.
Pepper drunk would be much more fun. That's a thought; he's got to hold on to that one for later.
"Are you this charming with all the girls?"
"Most of the girls don't ask this many questions, to be honest with you. And they tend to be really amused by my laser pointer."
Sassy's got a notebook out; shit they're fast. When did she start taking notes? He'll have to get Pepper to have someone from Legal scare her away, tomorrow first thing.
"So you deny that what I just saw was the miniaturized Arc Reactor you built to heal yourself and power your escape from Afghanistan."
"There's a little thing called a non-disclosure agreement, sweetheart, which technically you have to sign to even sit here, with me, at my favorite table in my favorite bar. We're not talking business. I've said nothing." Tony signals, and the bodyguard is there, driver waiting.
"I didn't see Vanity Fair signing an NDA."
"I gotta go. No fucking comment. Try your source at Gossip Girl."
The dusting of freckles, which he had found so cute when they first sat down, now was fire engine red and making his eyeballs ache. He turned away from Sassy Reporter, and let himself be hustled into the limo and its all-too-welcoming cushions. If he falls asleep they'll just carry him upstairs, drop him on the four-poster; and in the morning Pepper will give him a lecture about unhealthy sleeping habits and rumpling $8000 suits and how to get drool off your chin before the urgent board of directors review. He's looking forward to it already.
"'M not drooling," he insists, rubbing his cheek against the cushion. Yes. Very convincing.
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Poll Anything and Everything, Blind Dates