He made some bad investments.

[letmetakeaselfie]

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.

Comments

[letmetakeaselfie]

"...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.

[efficacy]

"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."

[letmetakeaselfie]

"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.

[efficacy]

"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.

[letmetakeaselfie]

"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.

[efficacy]

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.

[letmetakeaselfie]

"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.

[efficacy]

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."

[letmetakeaselfie]

He can't even begin to prevent the responding grin that spreads across his face like wildfire. Both at the avocados comment and the pet name. Tony tips his glass to her and drinks down a good amount of his drink before moving to sit on the floor and ripping open the cellophane on the cards like a kid at Christmas. "I forgot, is it seven or ten?" He's shuffling expertly like a veteran dealer at the casino a second later despite the question, dishing out their cards on the table in front of him.

[efficacy]

"Ten for each," Pepper supplies as she follows suit and slips down to sit cross-legged on the floor so they can make better use of the coffee table, taking a delicate sip from her glass before chuckling. "God, I haven't played this game in... ages."

[letmetakeaselfie]

"Me either. College at least." He finishes dealing and reaches for his drink again, folding his legs and sitting up a little straighter. "...What kind of music do you like?" Since she didn't pick a thing on Netflix and all he's assuming music would be better.

[efficacy]

Pepper sets her glass on the coffee table and fans out the cards in her hand, arranging them idly. She arches a pale brow at the question, lips twitching. "Something a little less ear-splitting than Iron Maiden at top volume," she teases. "Classic rock, usually. Or just classic, for unwinding."

[letmetakeaselfie]

He smiles at her, some of it stemming from self-consciousness as he calls out to his A.I. "J-man. Queue up mp3 folder: Favorite Composers." Tony is leaning over the table so he can sip his drink through the straw while also organizing his cards arbitrarily. He's hoping this game comes back to them as they go and isn't lost in some distant drunken pocket of his memory banks. Edvard Grieg's In the Hall of the Mountain King comes on at a decent volume in sharp contrast to the slurping straw noise coming from Tony's side of the coffee table.

[efficacy]

Pepper tips her head at the familiar opening strains, lips curving further as she watches him warmly for a moment over the fan of her cards. "Well, well. You're certainly turning out to be a constant surprise, Mr. Stark."

[letmetakeaselfie]

That look she gives him shoots warmth up under his skin anew, glancing over from the shelter of his eyelashes before looking immediately back to his hand. Here goes nothing. "Can this be a practice round?" he asks brightly, pushing his already empty mimosa glass towards the center of the table with the popcorn bowl.

[efficacy]

"That rusty, huh?" She re-arranges another card with a smile before reaching out and bringing the straw of her drink to her lips for a quick sip. "Can't say you're the only one. Practice round sounds good."

[letmetakeaselfie]

"Pretty rusty," he pings back, already nodding in a satisfied manner to her agreement. "And you know, it's not that... surprising. That I like old movies or -- this music." And he's going to tell you why!!! "I'm older than you, my mom loved Katherine Hepburn. I mean, who didn't, but. Also, classical music and heavy metal share a lot of -- technical. Similarities."

Okay, he said his piece, though why that had bothered him so much is anyone's guess. He's discarding and getting a new card. His hand is junk, but he already looks disgruntled by his speech so at least he's not giving it away.

[efficacy]

"No?" she queries softly and curiously into the brief lull when he says that, lifting her gaze up to him on the heels of discarding a card on her turn. She listens to his explanation with a tiny smile that grows slightly the further he gets. "Technical similarities." Looking back down at her cards, she nods once. "Well, you've properly chastised me. When you put it like that, it no longer sounds surprising at all."

She glances up again, mouth curving into a slight smirk. "Though you're only like, four years older than me..."

[letmetakeaselfie]

"What, have you been surfing my Wikipedia page?" Four years seemed kind of specific for a random comment, or maybe she had just gotten a look at his SHIELD file. Either way. It's funny that she knew that off the top of her head. "We're talking about the difference between Yoko Ono and Watergate here. Those were some serious four years."

[efficacy]

"It seemed less harsh than five... or more," she quips back without delay, grinning. His birth date wasn't exactly a grand secret, but it's not like she wants to admit so readily she'd read up on him, at one time. When in doubt, re-direct the conversation. "But don't worry, I find the grey hairs very charming."

[letmetakeaselfie]

She always turns it around on him. The comment makes him forget it's his turn for too long, remembering to discard at the last minute. "I need a refill. You?" He picks up his glass and stands up, feeling that familiar crawl over his skin that means he won't be able to sit still a second longer. He needs like so much more alcohol to endure her poking fun at him. If that's even what she's doing. But she can't be serious... can she? He forgoes the champagne this time, vodka and juice is good enough for him.

[efficacy]

"Um." She glances at her own glass, a few sips worth of drink left in it. They probably shouldn't add even more alcohol into this situation, but she's reluctant to point it out; she knows she can be overbearing sometimes. Oddly, it's never particularly bothered her before, so why now? Telling herself to stop overthinking it, she points out, "Well, it would be a shame to see that champagne go flat... so, hold the vodka for me, please."

[letmetakeaselfie]

He smiles as he picks up her glass, tipping his head at her order. Hers ends up being mostly champagne with a few splashes of juice while his is at least 50% vodka. It really has less to do with her than it does his constantly intruding thoughts. Alcohol was always good for slowing himself down -- too good, he knew, if he weren't careful. Still. Tony sets her drink down in front of her without the straw this time, tossing a pillow down from the couch so she can get more comfy.

"You didn't sneak a peek, did you?" He sips his drink and sets it down too as he sits, putting his cards back in his hand and peering over them at her.

[efficacy]

She murmurs a soft thank you, for the drink and the pillow both, making use of the latter first before taking a small sip of the former -- it may not be real champagne but it is still very good.

"Mm. You found me out," she pretends to lament, sighing as she sets her glass back on the table. "That's the first thing I did when you turned your back on me."

[letmetakeaselfie]

"I knew it. Look, don't be intimidated, baby. I'm sure your luck will turn around." Thank god this is a practice hand, that's what he's really thinking. He stretches out one leg under the table, swapping cards around again before he discards and takes a sip.