fic: Four Times Pepper Regretted Answering Her Phone and One Time She Didn't

Title: Four Times Pepper Regretted Answering Her Phone and One Time She Didn't
Author: erethesunrises
Fandom: Iron Man
Characters: Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Tony/Pepper hints
Summary: Pepper is always at Tony's beck and call but sometimes she rather resents it.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Don't own it.
Beta: The lovely and wonderful fiery_twilight.
Notes: Got the inspiration and started writing it after seeing The Soloist so yes, that is where the violin bit comes from.


“You were a model.” It wasn’t a question; it was a statement, one that sounded oddly accusatory. Why did she answer her phone every single time he called? She could have just let him leave a voicemail and she wouldn’t have to bother with his asinine statements. Two times out of three it was something completely unnecessary and unrelated to Stark Industries. So why did she answer it?

“Excuse me, Mr. Stark. I’m on my way to a meeting right now.” She stated firmly, hoping that he would get the hint and speak to her about this later. Or never.

“So you’ll be a little late. This can’t wait, Miss Potts.” His voice did not sound amused at all and it really rather frightened her. She had never been a professional model and it had only lasted for a year or so. How had he found out anyway? Oh, right. He was Tony Stark. He could find out anything. “You used to be a model and you never told me.”

“I didn’t think it was of any consequence. It had nothing to do with my job with Stark Industries.” Her words were simple and clipped, clearly conveying to him that they shouldn’t be having this conversation.

“Not of any consequence? Pepper Potts, I am surprised at you! You know how fond I am of models, how much I appreciate their works of art. And you didn’t think to tell me?” Before she could say anything else, he spoke once more. “Well, this is unacceptable. And I expect to be compensated.”

She was ready to hang up on him, but found that she was having too much fun with this game they were playing. That’s how it always was with him and her. She refused to back down and take the easy way out by hanging up; she could hold her own, after all. “Oh, really? And what exactly do you expect for compensation?” She spoke softly, slyly, and all too temptingly.

“Well.” The odd-pitched tone of his voice proved that she had the upper hand for now. He cleared his throat. “I expect pictures. Ooh, and a runway walk in my living room. We could even make it a lingerie fashion show.”

“I was a model, not a stripper, Tony!” That was clearly not the right thing to snap loudly while walking through Stark Industries because there were several whispers and stares all around her.

He chuckled low in his throat and she knew he felt exceedingly arrogant at this point. “Okay, okay. Get back to your meeting, Miss Potts. I’ll see you later. I’ll have Jarvis design a runway for you.” She could practically hear the smug grin on his face as he hung up and left her flustered as she walked into the conference room.

-

In all of her time with Stark Industries, Pepper Potts had never had a sick day. She took strict actions to avoid getting sick but whenever she couldn’t control it, she simply toughed it out. She remained secluded so as to avoid getting anyone else sick but she continued with her work, always getting what she needed to get done despite a throbbing migraine or repetitive sneezing. Some raised their eyebrows at this lifestyle, figuring that one’s own health was more important than work but clearly none of them had ever been Tony Stark’s personal assistant.

However, each tradition must come to an end at one point or another. It had started off how every normal day started, sick or not With a slight fever, she walked into the Malibu mansion of Tony Stark and prepared to get to work. Not even an hour into phone calls and paperwork, the intercom sitting beside her suddenly blared out with Tony’s voice. “Hey, Pepper, I need some help down in the garage.” Placing a hand to her head which was already pounding, she forced herself down the spiral staircase into the garage. It was Tony’s comfort zone, she knew, a place where he could escape from what everyone expected of him.

When she stepped inside, she saw him working on his suit and curiosity struck her as to what he could possibly need of her. Before she could find that out, though, she felt her knees give out beneath her and somewhere she thought she heard a voice screaming her name. The next thing she knew was that her eyes were fluttering open as she laid on one of couches back upstairs in the house.

“I called Happy to take you home.”

Hearing that voice, Pepper craned her neck and saw Tony leaning against the doorway, arms folded across his chest. “You didn’t have to do that.” She stopped short, pausing at the weakness in her voice that she didn’t even realize she possessed. “I’m fine, Tony.”

“You have a 103 fever!” he cried out incredulously, walking forward to stand in front of her as she rolled herself up into a sitting position.

“And how would you know what my body temperature is?” she asked, half-curious and half-appalled, not really wanting to know what had happened while she was unconscious.

“I took it, obviously. You know, with a thermometer,” he said, leaning down to wave the thermometer on the coffee table in front of her face. “What did you think I did?”

“Well, I don’t know! I don’t exactly peg you as the type to make chicken noodle soup or tuck someone into bed,” she retorted, lying back down as a dizzy spell overwhelmed her. When Tony said nothing, she looked over at him to find him watching her. A scarlet hue passed over her features and she looked away, letting her eyes slip shut.

Happy arrived fifteen minutes later, and although Tony wanted to carry Pepper out to the car, she insisted that she could walk by herself and brushed off Tony’s arms inclining towards her body. However, he did get the pleasure of her leaning against him as they made their way in the direction of the car, however, which she had a nagging feeling that he was secretly excited over. It caused her to roll her eyes but when she dragged herself into the back seat of the car, instantly flopping onto the back seat, she caught Tony’s face before the door shut; it startled, but didn’t surprise, her to see genuine concern on his face.

The moment she had walked through the door of her apartment, there was one thought going through her mind: sleep. It seemed like ages before she got there but the moment she did, she collapsed onto the bed and she was asleep the minute her head hit the pillow. After what felt like only a couple of minutes, a piercing noise seemed to ring throughout her room, her head immediately beginning to throb as her eyes shot open. Recognizing the ringtone, she sat up far too soon and after the dizzy spell, began to seek her phone. The moment she answered it, an all too familiar and obnoxiously loud voice spoke up.

“Striped or solid, Pepper?”

“Mr. Stark…” her voice was low and husky but not in the way that he would have liked to hear it. It sounded as if she was threatening him which she knew wasn’t the first time but did he have to call when he knew she was sick? The lowness of her tone was also contributed to the fact that she was ill and felt absolutely horrible. About ready to hang up on him, he spoke up again and she found herself unable to put down the ridiculous phone.

“For a tie. There’s an event tonight and I just don’t know which one looks better with the suit.” He sounded perplexed but there was a teasing tone that Pepper recognized in his voice which made her fall back onto the pillows, gripping the phone as tight as her sickness would allow her.

“I’m sure they both look fine, Mr. Stark. I am going back to sleep now.” And with that, she hung up.

The next thing she knew, she awoke with a start, hearing her front door closing and the sound of a plastic bag rustling in her kitchen. Before she could scramble out of bed, Tony walked in holding up two ties for her, dressed in a hand-tailored suit. Groaning, she raised her hands and massaged her temple before looking over at the clock: six forty-three in the evening. “Tony,” she moaned, unsure if this was just a dream or if her boss was really standing in her bedroom. “How did you get in here?”

He opened his mouth and then closed it, pausing in contemplation. “Well, with my key, obviously. Really, Pepper, I know you’re sick but if you start questioning who I am tomorrow, we’re going to have a problem.”

“What…what key?” She couldn’t remember making him a key for her apartment for the life of her. Perhaps it was the sickness. Why couldn’t he just let her sleep?

“The key I made, silly.”

“When in the world did you get a copy of my key to make a copy for your key?”

“I don’t know. It was several months ago. I just saw your keys and figured I’d better have a copy in case there was ever an emergency. Like now.”

“Several months ago?” She paused to take all that in and then she processed the word ‘emergency’. “Emergency? Picking out a tie is not an emergency, Tony!” She cried out as loud as she could, voice hoarse with frustration. “I’m sick, Tony. You were the one that made me come home. Let me sleep.”

“Right. Sick. Hold that thought.” Before she could say anything, he disappeared from her bedroom. He returned with a plastic bag in hand and set it on her bed. “I think we’re going to go with the solid tie, Pep. Now get some sleep; I expect to see you bright and early tomorrow morning.” He left in a flash and she was forced to question the sanity of her boss and the sanity of herself for working for him. Those thoughts soon disappeared when she found a package of chicken noodle soup and a plastic spoon in the bag.

-

With her legs crossed delicately at the ankles, Pepper busily typed up a letter from Tony to a foreign businessman, Tony believing that he didn’t actually have to write the letter himself for the point to get across. She didn’t mind. It was busywork, rather on the dull side, but she would do everything and anything that he asked of her. Her Achilles’ Heel, she often thought. As the phone rang, she finished up a paragraph before adroitly picking up the phone. “Pepper Potts, Assistant to Mr. Tony Stark of Stark Industries.” She answered mechanically, the introduction all too familiar on her lips.

“Pepper, let me play something for you.”

“What? Mr. Stark, what are you talking about? Play something for me?” She was thoroughly confused which wasn’t that rare when it came to him and phone calls to her. She often wondered what he was doing when he made these calls. Counting the tiles of his ceiling perhaps?

“Play something. A violin, to be precise.” The problem with these calls was that he always sounded serious, making her question whether or not he actually had a point to make.

“You don’t know how to play the violin, Mr. Stark.” She said matter-of-factly, balancing the phone between her shoulder and the side of her head, returning to typing up the letter.

“How would you know? I have many secrets, Pepper.” That sly tone of his clearly gave away that he had something hidden up his sleeve. This made her perk up, wondering just what he was planning this time. These phone calls were a waste of her time but she could never force herself to end them before finding out what they were about.

Pursing her lips, she removed her hands from the keyboard and leaned back in her chair. “All right. Let’s see what you’ve got, Mr. Stark.” She heard him fumbling on the other end of the line and she was prepared to stifle back her laughter, bracing herself for what was to come. Until…a soft melodic tune came from the phone, the sound of a violin forcing her speechless; it was beautiful. Letting her eyes drift shut, she let the peacefulness of the music wash over her. The moment it stopped her eyes shot wide open. “I…” Unable to find the words, she listened carefully and was able to make out what sounded like his own stifled laughter. “Tony.” She muttered between her teeth, clearly annoyed. “That wasn’t you.”

The laughter got louder. “No. It was Beethoven.”

-

She was in the middle of grocery shopping because, despite the theories people seemed to come up with concerning her, she did have a life of her own. Strolling casually down the cereal aisle, she glanced at all the several boxes lined up together and heaved a sigh. It was nice to get time to herself, even if it was to run errands. She had entertained ideas of quitting Stark Industries but at the end of the day, she could never fathom working anywhere else. However, she had to draw the line somewhere in order to lead her own life. This was where grocery shopping came in. And getting the car washed or going to the movies. It was her time. That is, until Tony called which he always seemed to do, always knowing when she was trying to get away from everything.

She pulled out her phone as it rang, unable to just let it keep going. The one time she had done that was when Tony had to tell her something crucial about the company, something actually relevant. “Mr. Stark.” She responded, trying to sound like she wouldn’t hit him over the head the next time she saw him if he said something completely idiotic.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, drawing out his words to accent the idea of ‘thinking’. Her silence gave him the green light to continue. “About possibly getting a dog.”

“A what?” Yes, a slap-over-the-head would certainly be in order for the next time she saw him.

“A four legged furry creature. You know, man’s best friend.” He muttered and she could picture his brows rising, eyes rolling. He was horrible at trying to hide emotions with his voice.

“No, I know that, I just – ” Pausing, she took a deep breath and entered the dessert aisle. Immediately she went for the ice cream, knowing she’d probably build up an attitude by the end of the day that could only be solved by the cliché of all females: ice cream. “I’m just trying to comprehend what you said. A dog, Tony?” She found no need for formalities out of work, his first name rolling off with ease.

“I think it’d be a good idea. I mean, look at me.” He paused. “Metaphorically, speaking. You can’t actually look at me right now. I mean, well – ”

“Yes, Tony, I get it. Please continue.” Grabbing a bag of bagels, she continued on her way through the grocery store.

“I’m lonely. A dog would be fun. I could, y’know, play with him and stuff. He’ll be my best friend. In dog form. What do you think?”

“I think he’d die within the first week.”

“Pepper!”

“Tony!” She snapped right back, raising a brow as she made her way for the check-out line at the front of the store. “You can barely take care of yourself, how do you think you’d handle taking care of a dog? They’re needy and require a lot of attention that you don’t even give your work half the time.”

His silent pause told her that he was considering what she said, which was a feat for him. Hoping he’d listen to her words of wisdom, he finally said, “We’re going to the pound today.”

“Yes, Mr. Stark.” She hung up and turned the cart around, heading for the aisle of dog food and bowls and other essential pet items.

-

It had been six months since Tony announced to the world that he was Iron Man. Six months of action figures and news anchors excitedly reporting about the world’s ‘superhero’. They treated it like he was some invincible film star, playing a role where he could never get hurt. But she knew better. She knew from the times he stumbled into his house, bleeding in various locations, with her taking on the role of physician, a task that was not in her job description.

She sat completely still, gripping her cell phone tight in her hands as she watched the news. Ignoring the commentary, she simply watched the live feed of Iron Man solving some world catastrophe that would earn him the title of hero in yet another devastated country. She had tried calling him, knowing he wouldn’t pick up, but hoping that he’d forget and pick up anyway, just so she could hear his voice to know that he was all right. She never let on what these mission did to her, never voiced her concern. There was the occasional lecture or scolding but she couldn’t bring herself to tears in front of him.
And then there was an explosion on screen and Pepper assumed that Tony had caused it. But for the first time she took in the words of the news anchors and she felt the air rush from her lungs.

“…it’s hard to see because of all the dust but there’s no sign of Iron Man anywhere…”

Standing up, Pepper intently watched the screen of the television, mouth clamped shut as she fought back the tears. All she could make out was rubble and debris but no iron suit or clanking or any indication that Tony was all right. Her hands were shaking and she looked down to her phone, hoping more than anything that there would be a ring and she’d see his name, hear his voice telling her that he had flown away without anyone noticing him.

It seemed liked hours. She hadn’t moved, hadn’t taken her eyes off the screen even until they abandoned the story for another, something about a celebrity scandal. Her voice tuned out all sounds and she looked down at her phone again, surprised to see a drop of water hit it. Reaching up, she felt her cheeks and shivered when she noticed they were damp. “Tony, come home.” When she glanced at the clock, she realized it had been hours and willing herself not to become hopeless, she cried harder.

The phone rang. Pepper’s eyes shot open as she pushed herself off the kitchen counter, reaching desperately for her phone. The name read ‘Tony Stark’. The tears came and she answered the phone, “Tony!”

“Hi, Pepper.” The voice sounded odd, as if it was all around her, in her head and occupying the room she was in. Her lips trembled and she stood up, looking over towards the doorway to see him in his armor, helmet off and face bleeding badly.

“Tony,” she breathed.