Chapter Text
“Siri, hack the pentagon.”
“I’m sorry Tony, I cannot-”
“Siri, hack the FBI.”
“I’m sorry Tony, I cannot-”
“Bank of America, at least? General Electric? Ohio?”
“I’m sorry-”
“Forget it.”
He sat back in his chair and stared blankly at the holographic monitor in front of him, flipping a stylus in his right hand. A data analyzing program ran in the corner of the screen, blinking through numbers faster than Tony could read them.
It had been two months since what Tony fondly referred to as the Ultron-pocalypse. Maybe a little over two months-he hadn’t really been keeping track. The others had mentally retreated from world-saving for the time being to focus on the new Avengers training grounds, location top-secret (Wisconsin). Tony had made a more literal retreat to his recently completed home in Malibu, and was attempting to bury himself in projects. It was working, sort of.
“So,” he said to the empty room. “Anything on the books for today, then?”
“Could you rephrase your question?”
“Siri, read today’s calendar.”
“One event: United Nations Celebrity Charity Ball, Valencia Hotel, San Francisco, five p.m.” Her friendly yet professional voice emanated from his surround sound speakers, not unlike an omnipresent Pepper Potts.
“Shit.” He tossed the stylus across the room, where it bounced off the wall and into a trashcan, clanging amidst the silence. “Thousand points,” he said absently.
“Could you rephrase your question?”
“Don’t worry about it. I should probably go to the charity thing, huh? On one hand, ‘United Nations Charity Ball.' I mean, ugh. But on the other, I haven’t seen the guys since the last time we saved the world. Might make for a nice reunion.”
“Is that so?”
“What about it, Siri? Wanna come? I’ll download you onto my phone and you can ride around in my pocket. You’ve got to promise not to fall in love with me though. I am not Joaquin Phoenix and I’m not interested in reciting poetry to each other.”
“Could you rephrase your question?”
He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “Yeah, I thought so.” Two months? It felt like less.
“Were you-”
Tony jumped and turned around.
From the doorway, Pepper smiled. “ . . . flirting with Siri, I was going to say. Sorry, did I scare you?”
“No. And I was not flirting with Siri, since it is a robot incapable of human emotions.”
“Ouch. Poor Siri.” Pepper walked to his desk and, reaching through the holographic monitor, laid out a set of papers in front of him. “Thank you letters, for the-”
“The UN thing tonight?” He searched wildly through his drawers. “My best handwriting, then.”
“You remembered. I’m impressed,” she said, holding out a pen to him.
“Siri reminded me, actually. Thank you Siri!” he called, with the last part directed at the general ceiling area.
“Could you rephrase your question?”
Tony shrugged and began signing the papers below Pepper’s snowy cursive. “Still working out the kinks.”
Pepper leaned on the desk, watching. “So, are you going tonight?”
“Maybe. Haven’t thought about it. Did I RSVP?”
“How would I know? I’m not your assistant anymore.”
“A decision I regret daily. Do you know how hard it is to run my life? Do you have idea what a complete pain I am to work with?”
“Yes. And I think you should go. It’ll be a nice opportunity to see your team.”
“Nice as in a controlled and carefully monitored setting under heavy military protection?”
“Exactly the kind of nice you and your friends need sometimes.”
“They probably won’t even come. Got better things to do, training the next generation of superheroes or whatever.” He finished signing and slid the pile across the desk to Pepper.
“Actually I was just on the phone with Steve, and he said-”
“Steve Rogers? You know he threw me across the room the last time we hung out.”
“He’s an inspiration to us all. Anyway, he said that he’s taking all the new recruits. I, for one, am looking forward to meeting them.”
“Yeah?” Tony pushed on the edge of the desk with his foot, spinning the chair. “Fine. I’ll meet you on the jet at four-”
“Two.”
“Two? Fine, two. You’re going to be the death of me, Miss Potts.”
“Arriving on time never killed anybody.” She paused, holding the papers in front of his desk. “Seriously though. You’re going to be . . . okay, right? It’s been a stressful month. No one would blame you if you didn’t go. It’s just a charity ball, anyway.”
He took a moment to, very seriously, thank the world for the gift that was Pepper Potts.
Outwardly, he smiled and waved her away. “You know me, Pep. I’ll be fine. Charm some politicians, sign some autographs. Might even make a speech.”
“Good. I’ll count on it.” She smiled brilliantly for a moment, and then turned on her heel.
“And for the record,” she said, just as she exited the room. “I miss him too.”