penistower | He made some bad investments.

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He made some bad investments.

After working with her at the Battle of New York, Tony had come to respect Rescue -- and the woman behind the suit, of course. But to say they were friends was a gross overshot. Pepper and he could get along. They both had tough shells and were ready equipped with all sorts of sarcasm and wit to deflect any unwanted attention. Because they were essentially Iron Man and Iron Woman, however, the press had their own ideas about the relationship between the pair.

Nick had phoned earlier to tell them about a recent threat, and words came out of his mouth that Tony was pretty sure he misheard. So he made the other man repeat them like, three times. But they didn't change. SHIELD wanted Rescue and Iron Man to shack up, publically. "Officially" so that when the bad guys came they'd have two heroes to contend with, but also so they'd think they were each other's weakness. Since they were only teammates, what could be the harm?

Before he knew it, a press release was set for the morning and Pepper Potts was on her way over to the Tower to move in. He had about a thousand rooms in the place, but if Dr. Doom did find his way inside they should be together just in case. It's all very -- sudden for a man who's never even had a girlfriend. And he still doesn't, but he has to convince the world he does. #Awkward.

"Welcome to Stark Tower, Ms. Potts. And please..."

"Wipe your feet," Tony interrupts JARVIS and his big, sweeping introduction, lifting his eyebrows as he watches her arrival. Should he help her with her stuff...? Probably. After a beat's hesitation, he moves to grab the larger of her two bags.

"Enjoy your stay," JARVIS corrects steadfastly, much to Tony's chagrin. But he offers up a meek little smile for her all the same.

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The bowl of popcorn between them on the couch creates some buffer in between them, but it's not enough to keep her from being intently aware of his presence all of the sudden. Thankfully, he draws their attention back to the movie, and Pepper strives to shake off the haze.

"Well, who could blame the girl," she comments with wry playfulness, watching the scene unfold.

"Yeah? You like him?" He can see the appeal, he supposes, though now he's paying way more attention to this part than he ever has. There's a brief interlude for ~emotions when she gets a letter from her dad but then it's to Daniel Craig in a tomb this time, doing his thing. "I guess no one." He thought way too long and hard about that one.

"Do you like him as Bond though?" That's the real question.

She purses her lips and bobs her head to the side slightly, giving a little mmh of eventual agreement. Her mouth twitches at Tony's own reply and the consideration he put into the issue.

"Sure. I mean, he's definitely not the worst Bond, even if he doesn't quite fit the same mold with the other ones," she says after a moment.

Tony nods in agreement, moving the bowl to the table on a whim, especially since they'd eaten mostly everything edible, a few unopened and burnt kernels at the bottom. When he leans back his thigh presses against hers, and it's somehow as gratifying as he thought it would be. He thinks about waking up tangled with her and tries to identify the feelings suddenly racing through his chest like a stampede of water buffalo.

"He's okay," Tony offers, flashing a somewhat toothy smile her way before turning back to the screen, his arm flopping over the back of the couch so that if she sat up or moved towards him even an inch her face would line up with his shoulder.

Pepper tries to act casual and keep her eyes on the television, but the warm press of his thigh against hers irrevocably causes her gaze to dart from the screen down to where they're touching and back up again, tamping down on the odd quiver that rattles her insides at the sensation. It simultaneously makes her want to press closer and pull away. She ends up doing neither, staying where she is; the contact begins to feel more natural sooner than she'd thought and she relaxes again, leaning further into the backrest -- and incidentally Tony's arm, feeling the warmth of it right across the top of her shoulders. She gives no indication of being aware of it though in reality she's hardly aware of anything else. Really, this movie is passing her by in a blur and she can't even recall what happened two minutes earlier on it.

He too is barely paying attention, for once not 100% invested in Angelina Jolie's every move. Instead he's engrossed in Pepper; in what she'll do next. It's entirely foolish, but with her next to him like this -- it feels like a real date. Like they're really... Heat rushes to his face at the thought, the inner push and pull almost too much for a second. Tony wants to wrap his arm around her properly and do all those sweet things dating people do, and it scares him; enough to want to pull away entirely at the same time. "What's your favorite movie?" he asks suddenly, licking a stripe across his dry lips.

The abrupt question snaps Pepper out of half-formed ideas and the strongest desire to inconspicuously lean sideways and further into him, perhaps to wordlessly encourage him to wrap his arm around her shoulders -- startling a little when she realizes the direction her thoughts had taken as if on their own. It takes a beat for the question to fully register, her brain shooting blanks for a few seconds.

"Um," she starts intelligently, inwardly admonishing herself. "I really love old movies from the classic Hollywood era. I don't know if I can pick one favorite. Give me anything with either Hepburn or Grace Kelly." She's silent for a moment, shrugging a bit. "But I like these sort of more contemporary feel-good adventures, too."

"Bringing up Baby?" he suggests brightly. What!! He knows Hepburn. Well, some of it. That was his mom's favorite, and a bit of color lingers on his cheeks at the realization. But hey, leopards are cool. More smoothly than he feels capable of at the moment, his hand comes up, resting along the back of the couch and thus her shoulders. It's very much that first date guy, his fingers brushing the top of her arm as though it's all very casual and unintentional. Just stretching etc etc. But the truth is it feels right. It feels like exactly what he wants to do.

"Love that one," she says with a pleased, beaming smile that crinkles the corners of her eyes, glancing at him. She feels his arm along the back of her shoulders, but it no longer feels off in any way; in fact, it feels startlingly natural to have it there. With some curiosity, she admits, "I didn't think that would be quite to your taste."

"I've seen it... a few times." She's learning all sorts of fun Tony Stark trivia and he still doesn't feel as though he has a grasp on who she is, and so he purposefully keeps his mouth shut about his mother. She would have loved Pepper but -- wait, what does that have to do with anything? "You'd be surprised. Does that also mean you're a Hitchcock fan because..." Well, he might have a thing for those movies himself. "To Catch a Thief is a classic."

"You really need to stop naming all the movies I like," she chuckles, shaking her head a little, but she's actually very pleasantly surprised. Angelina Jolie's adventures are less than a side thought by now, unfortunately. "I'm not sure if a fan is quite the right word for it, but yeah. To Catch a Thief and Rear Window are probably my favorites from him."

"Why?" he can't help but ask, the movie lost on him now as well. They have so much more in common than he ever would have thought -- so much more to talk about. "Rear Window, huh? I wouldn't figure you for the murder mystery type." He tips his head, getting that look he gets when he's overthinking something simple, gears turning far past the practical solution.

"Killing the dog was just overboard. Don't you think?" He's not really the murder mystery guy. If only because it makes him think about that night. Something he's trying desperately not to think of now.

"Because," she starts with a hint of a smile, though she quickly realizes she has no better reason than the fact that it's only serving to deepen this... interest, attraction, understanding-- whatever it was that was making itself known between them. This is still just a ruse, after all. She can't very well say any of that aloud, so she lets it be, hoping he'll take the lone word as answer.

"I guess I'm not, usually. If there's a type for that. I like some types of them," she latches on to the other topic, wincing when he brings up the dog. "Yeah, it was bad."

"Oh," he answers dumbly to her one word explanation, blinking a little as he turns back to the screen. He still sees none of it, his fingers turning to brush gently against Pepper's arm. It could be unintentional, that is until he does it again. "What should we do... next? And please don't say kick my ass again." He's still sore from last night ok :(

She lets out a short, breathy laugh at that, grateful for the distraction from the pleasant way his fingers brush against her arm. "No, I think we could both benefit from something a bit... gentler, today." She bites her teeth immediately, trying not to blush. It was completely innocent but the choice of words had a twinge of slight suggestiveness to it. "Um. Know how to play any games? Cards, maybe?"

A little heat creeps up his throat at that, though there's nothing actually wrong with the turn of phrase. "Cards." Does he even own a deck of cards? He doesn't think it's a bad idea despite his abruptness. "...I mean, yeah. I know -- poker? That's not that great with two. Gin, maybe?" He licks his lips unconsciously -- it might still be early but he wouldn't say no to a drink.

"How do you feel about mimosas?"

Her contemplation on the card games is interrupted by the abrupt question about mimosas, blinking rapidly a few times in surprise. "I... positively, in general. But isn't it..." A little early, she means to say, but didn't people have mimosas on brunches all the time? They already had breakfast, sure, but what would be the harm?

Arching a brow slightly, she asks with a small smile, "So gin and mimosas? Is that the offer on the table?"

"...Yeah. Maybe gin in mimosas. But also gin rummy." He turns towards her again and wow -- this. This is a nice view. It also gives him this warm thrumming buzz just under his skin. That can't be normal.

"Eh, I'm not sure how well gin would go in mimosas..." she chuckles, wrinkling her nose a little. "Rum, maybe. Regardless -- sounds like a plan."

"I was thinking like, orange-cranberry. Gin and juice is a classic." Don't break his heart right now, Pepper!! "I can make yours with rum. I might even have some of that flavored stuff." Left over from some party what seemed like a million years ago now, surely. "Okay, I'll just-- get that going. And hope I have cards." The credits roll on screen, not that he's looking, pressing just a little closer into her space. He really doesn't want to pull away despite his words.

"Flavored rum? No thank you. Flavored vodka is fine, but rum should taste like... rum." Important distinction, okay! "No, no-- orange-cranberry sounds fine. I mean, if you really don't have any champagne..." she trails off, giving him a jokingly coy look under her lashes, the corner of her mouth twitching. She doesn't miss his reluctance to move, nor him in fact leaning a bit closer -- she just doesn't exactly... mind.

Edited 2016-01-16 21:39 (UTC)

"Who am I? Of course I have champagne." He makes a face at her, going a little cross-eyed from proximity. Truth be told he meant rum/vodka/gin in addition to champagne, but he realizes he'll probably sound like an alcoholic if he says that now. #Yolo. His nose brushes her cheek and that's about the time he realizes he's in very dangerous territory. He reels back all too quickly then, pointing to the remote with one hand while the other combs back through his hair. "You can pick out something else, if you want. Or music or-- Yeah."

He moves away, glad enough to slip behind the bar, especially when it feels like some sort of deranged homecoming. Which is where he finds the cards, go figure. "Make a wish," he announces before popping some Korbel, filling two glasses halfway and going back in to hunt down vodka matching Pepper's specifications. Clearly she doesn't get a choice in this matter. At least for the first drink.

Pepper realizes how close they've drifted herself a little belatedly, breaking out of the odd daze when he pulls back. Feeling a bit of color rushing to her cheeks, she glances at the remote with a quick nod. She's not sure about music -- would that make this too... date-like? She browses through Netflix for something mindless to put on for background noise, but it's a halfhearted effort. She's turned a bit so she can see both the screen and Tony in her field of vision, chuckling a little at his comment and propping an elbow over the back of the couch.

"You know that's technically just sparkling wine since Korbel is Californian and champagne comes from the Champagne region of France," she points out with a smirk, unable to resist.

"Yes, dear." He rolls his eyes good-naturedly as he finds some citron vodka and pours that in before padding to the fridge for their juice and some garnishes. Though he doesn't cook, he's a master with paring knife, making up a few orange peel twists for their drinks. "Straw or no straw?" He's leaning towards straw, plopping one in each drink expertly before he hears the answer, wiping his hands with a dish towel and carrying them over to the sofa, yet unopened deck of cards clenched between his teeth.

"Some things California does right," he finally says as an enter back into the factoid she'd offered earlier. He feels like he at least has to defend a place he'd called home for so long even if their pizza sucks. Leaning back against the cushions, he takes a long sip and closes his eyes. Perfection. Remembering himself, he offers the drink sideways to clink his glass against hers in a belated toast.

She's about to decline the straw, but he's already popping them in the glasses and she bites back an amused smile. She's starting to get used to these little things that strike her as impractical -- or something else -- as likely just results of his brain working too fast to wait.

"Yeah. Avocados," she retorts with a small grin as she takes one of the glasses from him and takes a sip. Definitely tasty. Smirking, she taps her glass against his. "Nicely done, sweetie pie."

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