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Peter doesn’t know what to expect when Pepper texts him to arrange a meeting, really. That she’s about to, like, really scarily eat him, maybe. He thinks of praying mantises biting the heads off males, and he makes his way to the texted address with all the cheer of a funeral procession. He shows up fifteen minutes early because he doesn’t want to know what would happen if he was late.
The address turns out to belong to a coffee shop, which isn’t exactly what he was expecting. It’s an independently owned place, about as far from a Starbucks as you can get. The inside is cozy and tidy and pleasantly lit with those weird Edison bulbs hanging bare from the ceiling. Hipster-chic, like just about every other coffee shop in the city, but like. Nice hipster-chic.
Pepper shows up at five minutes to 3. She looks like she just came from the office, shiny sensible heels, cream button-down blouse, ring glinting on her finger. Peter about has a heart attack in shades of guilt guilt guilt homewrecker holy shit before he realizes it’s on the wrong hand. She scans the room, face lighting up with recognition when she sees him.
“Hi, Peter. Thanks for coming.”
If professionally warm can be a thing, Peter thinks, that’s what this is.
“No problem.”
“Do you want a coffee?”
He lifts his mocha. “I’m good.”
He has the minutes when she’s standing in line to freak out about being called to a midday meeting with Pepper Potts, sinking into the slouchy-backed armchair he’d chosen and wishing he’d sat somewhere that gave him more of a spine. He drinks his coffee out of nerves, which makes him more nervous and means he has an empty paper cup and nothing to do with his hands by the time she comes back.
“So,” she says, sliding into the chair opposite.
They’re facing each other at an angle, thank god. It gives him a reason not to look her in the eye. He takes a pretend-sip of his empty cup.
Pepper makes a soft, frustrated noise. “Oh, for— I’m not here to do something as archaic as warn you off my man. Relax.”
Peter gives a weak, sheepish smile. He had actually kind of assumed. She sees it too. She smiles when he relaxes, and it makes her face look warm and open. She’s pretty, he realizes, and he doesn’t know why it should stun him as much as it does. Of course she’s pretty. Of course she’s beautiful, but when she smiles, it’s really—he gets it, he thinks.
“So you… know?”
“Tony told me.”
There’s a lot of emotions that come with that—shock, embarrassment, fear, a small, hard knot of anger that Peter doesn’t want to look at too closely. They all pile in and jam on top of each other, clamoring for a seat at the table.
He still really doesn’t want to meet her eyes.
Pepper has no such compunctions and studies him across the low, trendy coffee table until she decides something. She sighs. “I’m not going to say you have my blessing, because I think you’re too young, but you should know that Tony and I have an arrangement. You won’t be hurting me if you decide to pursue something with him, is what I’m saying.”
“Okay,” Peter says, I think you’re too young still stinging.
“Whatever’s between you and Tony is between you and Tony.”
“Okay.”
She shakes her head, makes another frustrated sound. “That isn’t why I came here.” Pepper covers Peter’s hand with hers where it’s resting on the armrest. “I actually just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
“That I’m okay?”
She takes her hand off Peter’s and makes a vague gesture with it. “I know it’s a lot. Tony’s a lot, and I’m not saying that because I don’t love him but because I know him. He can be a lot, and you’re so young, and I just wanted—” Her face does something there, scrunches up just a little, in the nose, and it’s the first time Peter’s seen Pepper look anything than perfectly, impeccably composed. She takes a deep breath and starts again, face all smoothed out. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
He has that same feeling again, the one of standing in the middle of something too big for him. This is an adult conversation, he’s pretty sure. Pepper looks at him across the top of her skim latte, watching him with compassionate, curious eyes.
“I’m good,” Peter says, because what else can he say?
He’s sure Pepper means well, but he doesn’t know where to begin unwrapping the unwieldy parts of his heart, the slivers that are equal parts I wished he’d call and I’m glad he didn’t. He doesn’t know how to parse those thoughts for himself, so he certainly doesn’t know how to explain them to someone else—Pepper Potts, no less. So he tells her the truth, or at least the part of the truth that doesn’t hurt to hold.
“I’m good, really,” he says with as much determination as he can muster. “Tony was really nice, and we had a good time. And it’s, like, really cool of you to check up on me. Like, really, really cool, but I’m fine.”
He smiles.
Pepper studies him for a while longer before finally nodding. “Okay.”
She leans back in her seat, slouching into the spine-sucking back of her own overstuffed armchair. She looks… tired.
She looks up at him, eyebrows raised. “These seats are terrible.”
Peter barks a laugh that’s probably louder than the situation warrants, relief flowing out of him like groundwater. “I know, right?”
They don’t linger, and Peter is grateful. Pepper finishes her coffee, and he stops pretending to drink his. Then she reaches across the table to give him her card.
“In case you ever need anything or just want to talk.”
“Thank you, really. That’s—” He doesn’t call her Ms. Potts, but it’s a near thing. “Thanks.”
“I mean it,” she says. “You can call.”
“I will.” He won’t.
They walk out the door together, a little bit awkward. Peter feels awkward. Pepper looks like she’s never met awkward a day in her life. He holds the door for her, and her eyes crinkle a little. They go their separate ways, but Peter stops.
“Pepper?” he calls, and she turns back.
“Yeah?”
“Why did you do all this? Call me here, meet with me. I know it’s not that you had the free time.”
She huffs a small laugh. “I really, really didn’t.” She trails off, thoughtful, and this time, when she looks back, Peter meets her eyes. “I needed to see it for myself—that you’re okay. I needed to decide something. And…” She pauses, and Peter waits. “I’ve been where you are, and no one checked in on me. Maybe I wish they would have.”
She’s far away, then, for a second, but she shakes it off, and the moment evaporates clean and easy.
“That’s all.”
Peter nods, dismissing her where she’s turned to him on a crowded Midtown sidewalk, the both of them taking up room while people flow around them like water. The fragile thread holding them together snaps and breaks. They both have things to do, after all.
“Thanks,” Peter says.
She smiles. “Don’t mention it.”
Pepper hails a taxi and whisks off in a flurry of blonde hair and smart businesswear. Peter is left standing on the sidewalk in his hoodie and jeans, cradling the business card in his hand like a strange, rare animal.