Work Text:
The first time Pepper saw Peter Parker, he was among one of eighteen attachments sent by SI’s Chief Communications Officer.
The email was the usual quick, professional summary she’d come to expect from Nicole: “Inauguration of Oregon arc-power plant picked up by LA Times and a dozen local west coast news channels (highlights attached). Brazilian President’s press conference on the upcoming SI tour picked up by BBC, AP, AFP and Reuters (highlights related to “major investments in remote regions of South America” attached). NYC tabloid requests comment on 'exclusive' about Tony’s personal life, coming out tomorrow (sourcing dubious, but do raise it with him if you have time). Tuesday's press release draft is also attached for final comments.”
She skimmed through it all, saving the tabloid for last. Her relationship with the tabloids was a malleable thing. Reading about Tony’s love life had amused her when she was his PA, annoyed her as Tony’s partner, and then hurt as Tony’s recent ex.
Now, two years on from their breakup, Pepper had almost come full circle back to amused.
Almost, but not quite.
The Bugle didn’t have much — just a photo of Tony squirting condiments on some university student’s hotdog, and the absurd claims of that student’s classmates that Tony Stark had bought the boy a penthouse.
Pepper studied the baby face in the picture. Cute enough, but far too young and — well — male for Tony. Tony slid along the Kinsey scale far enough to sleep with men when the mood struck, but he had never dated one. Even when Tony’s love life had just been a series of one-night stands, the men were never invited to sleep in the bed.
Besides, Pepper would know if Tony were seeing someone seriously. Tony would have told her.
The whole thing was absurd.
“No comment on the Bugle story,” she wrote.
Poor kid, she thought idly, before closing the tab and opening another email.
“We’re leaving.”
Pepper ignored Tony and smiled at the various diplomats milling around them. “I put this on the schedule months ago,” she said through her teeth. “Suck it up and shake their hands.”
“No,” Tony said simply, eyes glued to his phone. “Wheels up in 10 or I’m flying the suit back.”
And then he turned and left.
Pepper wanted to throttle him.
I bend over backwards to accommodate your whims, but you won't move an inch for me if it inconveniences you. I’m your CEO not your fucking secretary.
She didn’t say it, of course. Saying it had gotten her nowhere when Tony had been in love with her; it wouldn’t get her any further now.
He wasn’t even there to say it to.
She made her excuses and bowed out. Following in Tony’s wake, as always.
Tony was on the phone when she got to the plane. Engine running. He barely looked at her as she walked in, just took it upon himself to close the cabin door.
“Wheels up,” he told the pilot.
“Ignore him. Tony—”
“Wheels. Up,” Tony insisted, pointing at the cockpit. The pilot darted a look between them and nodded, following Tony’s order.
Of course.
“What is going on?”
Tony ignored the question and waved a hand to shush her. His full attention was back on his phone.
“I’m on my way,” he said to whoever was on the other line. (Probably another Avenger. Probably just another world-on-the-line crisis. Pepper wished she didn’t want to scream.) “No, I told you it’s fine. –– It’s nothing. Just glad-handing corrupt politicians.”
She tried to keep her resentment down to a simmer. She’d spent months getting this deal together because Tony was the one obsessed with expanding his arc-power energy project outside the US-European markets — but sure. Call it ‘glad-handing’.
“I’m going to work on a statement with Pep now. –– Of course I need to, don’t be stupid. These assholes don’t… –– Even if it does blow over, I still want to be there. –– But what if May or Ned… –– Of course you can handle yourself but this is different. –– Well, I’m already on my way, so too bad. –– Ditto, babe. See you soon.”
Babe?
Pepper strapped herself into her seat just as the wheels lifted off, trying and failing to make sense of the situation. She opened her inbox and found a new press summary from Nicole, sent 15 minutes ago.
This time, it was a preview of all the morning's papers, and the entire email was dedicated to Peter Parker.
Peter Parker, handing keys to a red sports car to the Stark Tower valet. Peter Parker, smiling at Tony in the Met Museum. Peter Parker, walking out of Masa. Peter Parker, in the passenger seat of Tony’s Audi. Peter Parker, wearing sunglasses that Pepper recognized all too well.
This time, Pepper did more than skim. And in the time it took for her to read them over, her inbox had another 56 mails in it. Her CFO and her CIO and every single one of SI's board members, all professionally panicking. Asking Pepper ‘what should we say’ and ‘why are people even talking about this’ and ‘is that boy legal’ and ‘did you approve his spending out of company funds’ and ‘why isn't there already a statement out’ and—
And ‘the markets are about to open’.
“Hey, May,” Tony was on the phone with someone else now. “Peter says he’s fine, but you know what a terrible liar he is. Can you go check...? –– You were? Great. –– No, let me send a car so you can go through the garage entrance. Paps are camped outside the building like fucking vultures. –– Yeah, I’m on my way now. I’ll go in the front to give them a different show. –– Thanks. See you soon.”
Even after hanging up, Tony's phone still had his full attention. He didn't even look up. Didn't spare her even a single word of explanation.
He’d been sleeping with someone for months and hadn't told her. He'd set up some boy in a multi-million dollar penthouse and hadn't told her. He'd done whatever he wanted — just as he always did — and then let it blow up in her face.
And now that she was expected to solve it, he said nothing. No information. No excuses. Nothing.
Just furious texting.
Pepper didn’t lose her temper often, so watching herself snatch the phone from Tony’s hand and toss it across the plane was an almost out-of-body experience.
Did I really just do that?
The sound of the phone clacking against the cabin door was a resounding yes.
At least now, Tony looked up.
“Seriously, Pep? What are you, seven?”
“What did you do?” she said.
“What did I do? Absolutely nothing.” The glare he fixed her with was cutting. “We have that in common.”
“What?”
“The press has had this story for almost 16 hours. Not only did you not shut it down, you practically gave them the green light. ‘Representatives from Stark Industries refused to comment’? What the actual fuck? You know full well that’s like waving a flag at a bull.”
“I didn’t—”
“You didn't? Really? Then who screwed up? If not you, who am I supposed to fire? Nicole? Some other useless peon? Tell me exactly.”
Pepper closed her eyes and counted to five. When her anger settled down, she forced herself out of her chair and picked up Tony’s phone.
Tony was right about one thing, at least — that had been incredibly childish.
And Pepper had always taken pride in her professionalism, no matter what insanity Tony put her through. Whether she was kicking co-eds out of his bedroom or booking troops of call-girls for his parties or organizing body clean-ups after an Iron Man fight left civilian casualties — she was a professional.
Just because she was hurt was no excuse to diminish herself.
She held out his phone and matched his gaze. “Nicole did her job. She flagged the initial coverage and I dismissed it out of hand.”
Tony refused to take the phone from her, which — well, that did hurt. More than anything else. Not that she'd ever let him see that. She tossed the phone on his lap, as if she didn’t care, and took the seat across from him.
“I dismissed it,” she continued, “because I thought there was no way you’d be seeing someone new without telling me.”
“Please,” Tony scoffed. “I’ve been far from celibate—”
“Not fucking someone,” Pepper interrupted, voice hard. “But if you were dating someone, I’d have thought you’d at least have the decency to let me know.” Tony shifted minutely in his seat, and Pepper knew she’d hit a nerve. “What I didn’t consider — and I admit, this is on me — was the possibility of you setting up some college student like a mistress.”
“Jesus, Pep,” Tony shook his head and grabbed the phone. Fiddling. The way he always did when he was hiding something. “He’s not a mistress. It’s Peter.”
“You say that like I should know him.”
“Peter. I told you about him months ago. I told you I’d taken an NYU student under my wing. Why else did you think I was spending so much time in the village?”
“Keeping track of your social calendar is not my job anymore—”
“Great. We agree on something.”
“—but last I checked, ‘under my wing’ wasn’t your code for ‘by the way Pep, I’m sleeping with the boy’.”
“He’s not a b—”
“But whatever,” Pepper interrupted. She really didn’t want to hear what Peter Parker was. “Next time you decide to set up a kept boy, girl or Kree, you tell me about it first. At the very least, we should have had a press statement drafted in advance.”
“Or you could just ask me before you jump to conclusions.” Tony was glaring at her again. “Besides, he’s not– He’s just Peter. My– my boyfriend, partner… person. Whatever the modern term is.”
“Tony,” Pepper sighed. “You don’t need to pretend with me.”
“If you had asked,” he continued, ignoring her. “I would have told you I already have something drafted. It needs to be reworked but—” Tony pulled up one of the plane’s holographic displays and started flicking through files. He opened a text, and swiped away several paragraphs before Pepper could read them.
“Add in some legalese about respecting his privacy,” he said, pointing vaguely. “Not that they won’t try to find their way around it, but at least that way I can say they were warned.”
Pepper skimmed through the text. It was bullshit, of course, but well-written bullshit.
“‘Greatest mind of a generation’? Seriously?” she said. “You know this will just make it worse for him in the long run.”
Tony looked confused. “It’s the truth.”
“Quit the act — it’s not cute.”
“What act?”
“Tony, just because I’m personally livid that you set up a boy in a penthouse doesn’t mean you don’t have the right to. You’re not the first billionaire to do it and you won’t be the last. But all this—” she pointed at the text, “—this is going to make it harder to back out of it when the time comes. The press won’t let this die. They’ll keep track of him the way they did to me.”
“But,” Tony’s eyes skimmed over the words again, as if looking for a hole in his code. “But it’s true.”
Pepper shook her head. “Tony—”
Tony waved the text to the display across the aisle. “Just work on the legal aspect, and don’t send anything out until I read it over.”
“Fine, if—”
“I need to work on his security. Remind me not to forget about May.”
“Next year?”
“No, his aunt. Security is going to be a bitch in her building. I might try to move her somewhere else.”
“Are you sleeping with her too?” Pepper muttered under her breath.
All she got in response was another darted look and a pointed finger.
During their six-hour flight, Stark Industries stock dropped 100 points. She spent the trip in the cramped office area on the phone with investors and board members. Reassuring them all, one at a time.
“You know what Tony’s like.”
“He could set up a harem and it still wouldn’t make a dent in his disposable personal income.”
“There’s no such thing as bad press — you know, I think Tony lives by that axiom.”
“We dropped 1000 points after he pulled out of weapons manufacturing and look at us now.”
“It’s nice of you to think of me, but I’m fine. Tony and I have always been great friends.”
And, worse, “Peter? Of course I’ve met him. He’s a very promising bio-engineering student. He’ll be well looked after at SI once this is over.”
By the time she was done, they were landing in New York and the ludicrous statement Tony had insisted on was public. Pepper already knew she wasn’t going to sleep for the next 20 hours, and the thought alone was almost more exhausting than the reality.
She folded herself into the chair beside Tony, too tired to be angry any more. She kicked off her heels and dropped her feet in his lap.
“At least tell me he signed an NDA,” she said, eyes half closed.
“He didn’t sign an NDA.” Tony had one hand automatically rubbing her heel, the other still flipping through displays of… a drone system? Whatever.
“Of course not,” she sighed. “You know I’m going to have to meet him.”
Tony nodded, distracted. “Of course you will.”
“I’m serious, Tony. He needs to know how to behave.”
“He’s not a dog—”
“No, a dog I could train.” She was trying to keep her earlier anger at bay, if only because she really needed to nap before they landed. “A dog can’t sell a tell-all to the Bugle. Next time, get a dog. In the meantime, I need to know how bad it is going to be when he opens his mouth—”
“That’s not going to happen,” Tony interrupted. His tone brokered no argument which—
Was fine, actually. She was too exhausted to fight.
“I just need to meet him.”
Tony went straight to the boy when they landed.
Pepper watched him speed off in the Maserati he'd had waiting on the tarmac, leaving her and their staff in silence and dust.
Whoever Peter Parker was, he'd made thorough work of Tony. The last time Pepper had seen Tony on the hook like this, it had been hers.
She wondered how quickly the boy had taken Tony to bed.
If he were smart — and he’d have to be to keep Tony Stark’s attention for more than a single night — he would have waited. Months, ideally, if not years. He would have played the friendship card; played it as if he didn’t want or expect anything more. He would have leaned in close, bitten his lip idly, and then moved back as if he hadn’t noticed Tony’s attention.
(As if just the sight of Tony Stark didn’t stir the blood.)
He would have let Tony build the idea up in his head. Let him think he was the one in pursuit, and not the other way round.
That’s how she had done it, after all.
Pepper shook off the thought and got into her own car.
Her mind flashed back involuntarily to the way she’d thrown Tony’s phone, disgusted with herself. She’d been hurt. Angry. With Tony, and with herself.
Because she was the one who had left the door open for Peter Parker.
She was too close to Tony to imagine him vulnerable to pretty, young, smart things. But she wasn’t close enough, anymore, to even notice there was someone new in his life. Some boy had managed to sink a hook into Tony and reel him in — all before she knew he existed. She hadn’t seen him coming, hadn’t even seen the signs before it was too late.
Unless there were no signs. Unless Peter Parker was just that good.
Whatever it was, it would be fine.
If a clever twentysomething wanted to cash in, and Tony wanted to enjoy their company and their body — that was fine. Tony could afford it. SI could afford it. And if Peter really was a “once in a generation mind”, the way Tony insisted, he should be easy enough to cajole into a job at SI once Tony moved on.
This whole thing wouldn’t last long.
Things with Tony never did.