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The angle was wrong for the sun to shine right into the bedroom window but the light reflected from the building in front was glaring enough that Tony grimaces as he plants his feet on the soft carpet next to the bed, the chill of the floor warded off by the thick fabric.
He idly wonders if he can get the stubborn woman to invest in some blackout curtains, but he can already imagine her list all the numerous points against it. All valid enough that it wouldn't be worth the effort it would take to convince her.
After all, it was a rare enough occurrence for him to be in her room at this time of the day.
Standing up, Tony makes quick work to slip his watch back over his wrist, pulling his socks on while keeping his pants from sliding down his legs, and put on the wife-beater he favors that has the extra thick fabric in front to obscure the light emitted by his arc-reactor.
Eyeing distastefully the shirt that had ended up on the floor earlier that day he shakes it out, trying to get rid of as much of the wrinkles as possible.
A muffled laughter makes Tony look up, meeting the amused blue eyes of his favorite reporter who has apparently just woken up. Tony watches as she puffs up the pillow and wraps her arms around it before resting her head on it, primed to watch him dress.
“You know the suit is going to cover it,” Christine points out. Tony rolls his eyes and shrugs it on and says. “I know, that’s not really the point.”
“There is a point?” Christine smirks as she shifts and rests her head in her hand. She shakes her head as she watches Tony tug at the sleeves, mild irritation tugging the edges of his mouth down. Rolling onto her back, Christine scoots back towards the headboard and remarks, “you are such a snob.”
“And you’re not?” Tony shoots back as he looks around.
“I've said it before and I’ll say it again. You can always leave a change of clothes here.”
“Right, because no one would notice if I showed up dressed differently than how I was when I went out.” It is obvious what Tony thinks of that, the mockery clear in his voice.
“It wouldn't raise any eyebrows either,” Christine points out. True, Tony concedes, and his teammates would already know if they could get their head out of each other - not finishing that thought, thankyouverymuch.
Except...
How had they thought they could keep it from him. Jarvis gives him eyes everywhere. Not to mention subtlety isn't exactly their strong suit, at least not for the behemoth of a man, or god as the case may be, and the ferocious appetite he apparently has to anything in life, or Rogers for that matter with his supposed 40’s era sensibilities that turned out to be less than archaic.
He’d been more than surprised, downright shocked really when he realized the good Captain and the God of Thunder was apparently bumping uglies together. Obviously, at all those late night sparring session more happened than what they had let everyone believe.
He can deal. Tony is a lot of things, but he tries not to be a hypocrite. If his teammates want to do the horizontal dance with each other he isn't going to begrudge, or judge, them that.
And if Rogers doesn't think he can tell him then it is his choice. See, he can be mature Pepper. That people thought he wouldn't notice what is essentially happening under his very nose rubs him the wrong way. Willful ignorance was bound to cause pain and he has permanent scars to attest to that. Accusing him of being paranoid and then not expect him to be hyper-vigilant is just downright stupid.
Watching and learning is what he does. What he has always done. It’s how he realized that the twosome, had turned into more-some. Some digging later and it turns out everyone was playing tickle the sausage with each other.
How they made it work was something he hasn't figured out yet. Thor, Rogers, Barton, Romanov, and his little science bro, Banner.
Five, an odd number, that. At this point, he wouldn't be surprised to find out that Agent is in on it too. Everyone sans him. How fucking typical is that.
What did they have that he doesn't?
“Tony?” Christine’s voice brings him out of his thoughts. Looking over his shoulder he can see the small line between her neatly plucked brows. She had tucked the sheet around her, sitting up with her legs folded underneath her, head cocked to the side.
“Yeah?”
“You OK? You went waaay away there for a minute,” she asks, waving her hand about her head. Tony purses his lips, turning his attention to his shirt, mumbling something incomprehensible even to himself.
“Come again?”
“Am I really all that unattractive?” Tony throws over his shoulder nonchalantly after a lengthy pause while he buttoned up his shirt, inwardly cringing at how pathetic that came out. Christine snorts where she is once again gone back to lying prone on the bed.
“Not really the person you should ask that,” she says as she stretches, watching him go through the motion of putting himself back together.
“They do know that nothing gets by me, right?” Who ‘they’ were, did not need any clarification. “They are living in my Tower, for fucks sake!” Christine’s mouth quirks in clear amusement and if it had been any other time, that alone would have drawn Tony back to the bed.
“Yes, and you are one paranoid fucker. It is a known fact,” she states as she settles the sheets around her provocatively unashamed of her nudity and taking delight as Tony looks her over.
Tony hums, momentarily derailed from his train of thought. The sound of his cell phone jars him back and he shakes himself and quickly tucks his shirt into his pants and does them up.
“It’s not paranoia when it’s true.” Picking up the tie he had spotted earlier on the night table he quickly loops it around his neck.
“Anyways, if they are all banging each other, either they don’t give a shit about ‘big brother’ or they're rubbing in the fact that they haven’t invited me.” He can practically see his words go through Christine’s head and the moment it clicks what he is actually saying.
It visibly perks Christine right up and she sits up, the sheet forgotten where it pools around her waist. Tony smirks and preemptively says, “And no, you’re not allowed to write about it.”
She pouts but Tony can see in her eyes the acceptance. What they had worked only as long as both adhered to the few rules they've set up and for whatever reason, he’d found out over time that Christine is very reluctant to go against them, even if it meant losing out on some really great stories. He isn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Christine shrugs and leans over, grabbing a hold of his tie and tugs him down before licking into his mouth. If he wasn't already previously engaged he wouldn't mind getting back between those sheets and into her warm welcoming body but alas, responsibility calls, or has left several voice messages in the form of one formidable Pepper Potts.
“Their loss,” Christine whispers against his lips. Tony grins and pecks her before straightening up, looking for and finding his jacket before shrugging it on.
Trailing his fingers against the edge of her jaw he watches her flop back against the pillows, for all the world with no intention of leaving anytime soon.
Putting his sunglasses on he fished his earpiece and slips it into the shell of his ear before leaving the tempting and very much delectable woman behind, calling up his driver as he does and lets Jarvis know he is on his way back.
“Do you wish me to inform Ms. Potts, Sir?” his AI inquires and even through the small earpiece Tony can hear the amusement in its voice.
Shaking his head, Tony makes his way down the stairs that lead to Christine’s small but surprisingly cozy apartment while trying to tame his hair into something less of a ‘spent the last couple of hours fucking through to shear bliss’-hair and more the proper business look he knows Pepper prefers when he is on official Stark business.
The last thing he needs is for her to shit kittens because he got some ‘piece of tail’ quote and un-fucking quote.
Pushing open the emergency door that leads to the back alley of the apartment complex, Tony is not surprised to find his car waiting for him, his driver slash bodyguard holding the door open, a flick of his eyes acknowledging Tony before going back to tracking his surroundings.
Even though, these days, Happy Hogan rarely works as his chauffeur having been offered a promotion and accepting it, Tony's knee-jerk reaction was still to expect his familiar silhouette standing there. In spite of the time passed since Happy hanged up his hat, in a manner of speaking, Tony finds himself thrown for a loop seeing someone else in his place more often than he cared to admit. Apparently, some changes are harder for him to assimilate. It lasts only for a split moment, not even noticeable to anyone but Tony himself.
Between Jarvis and Happy and with Tony’s approval, Alex, last name unpronounceable, has practically been handpicked to take over most of Happy’s former duties which were harder than anyone would think. Alex is a ruthless, efficient and above all unflappable specimen of a man that had slid right into the vacant spot with barely a hiccup.
Seeing the ever-vigilant eyes of his ‘Driver’ roaming the surrounding Tony keeps the comment that wants to slip out where it belongs, in his head. Alex precautions weren't unwarranted even by Stark standards if the last couple of months had been any indication with two failed kidnapping attempts, and boy had that been a bitch to convince Happy to keep from Pepper.
His Head of Security of all things personal (and Tony just knows that he was in cahoots with Jarvis) is a stick in the mud when it came to his safety and the compromise had been Alex, a competent scary son of a bitch that can rival Captain America in size with a humor that is downright morbid and who would say fuck you right into the Boss’ face if the request Tony gave went against his main order: that of keeping Tony alive and as safe as possible, and not necessarily in a language Tony knows.
Slipping into the cool interior of his tricked up car, if the weight he could see on the wheels is any indication, Tony makes a mental note to find out what Happy and Alex has been up to and what they had done to his poor beauty as Jarvis had been surprisingly mute on the whole affair.
Fishing out his tablet as Alex rounds the hood of the car and gets behind the wheel, Tony pulls up the briefs he needs while letting Jarvis screen through the undoubtedly irate calls of his acting CEO.
He can already feel whatever good his time spent with the blond vixen had done for his state of mind is draining away as the cloak of being Tony Stark comes around him again.
The End.