Work Text:
“Okay, so. Little staff rumour going around.” Tony points at the glass walls of his office. Pepper follows his finger, finding an empty corridor. “I’ve bet money on it being true. $55. So has Brenda.”
Pepper raises her eyebrow. “I’ve never met a Brenda who works here. And I didn’t realise you actually spoke to any employees below this floor.”
Shifting his arm so it’s now pointing at Pepper, Tony smiles. “You mean you didn’t realise I spoke to any employees besides you .” He jabs his finger forward.
“Yeah. Because you don’t .” Her eyebrow raises higher.
“Sure I do. We have a groupchat.” Tony picks up his phone and shows her his blank screen. “Didn’t add you because you’d be too good of a moderator.”
Pepper almost rolls her eyes. Almost.
“I’m not going to pretend that was a compliment,” she sighs. Tony blinks innocently, but his smile gives him away.
“Meaning is in the eye of the beholder.”
“I have never heard a saying said so incorrectly.” The exasperation leaks into her voice.
Tony raises his hands defensively, like there’s anything to be defensive about. “I’m an innovator, okay? Nothing wrong with a little tweaking .” His hands make a pinching shape, and Pepper doesn’t know if she should find it off-putting or funny. Either or, she settles with.
“Speaking of tweaking ,” Pepper says, squeezing her voice to imitate Tony, which is to say, imitate a really annoying know-it-all. “I’ve got your Tuesday schedule, two weeks from now, and let me tell you. It’s a trainwreck.”
“No, no, no.” Tony flaps his hands like an overgrown bird. “No work talk! You’re not my P.A. right now. You’re my confirmer of scuttlebut.”
Pepper feels her frown like thunder. “Scuttlebut? Are you being seriou-.” She interrupts herself. “Actually, don't answer that. You never are.”
“Actually, Pep, I’m very serious about this.” He puffs his cheeks and crosses his arms, matching her indignation. But, of course, it’s just a mimicry. “I’ve got $55 on the line!”
A frustrated groan bursts out of her, a bit too loudly, and a bit too suddenly, but all it does is make Tony smirk again. “Are you going to bother telling me this definitely true and interesting staff rumour, then?”
He does a 360 swivel in his ridiculously ergonomic swivel chair, then claps his hands on his desk. “Miss Pepper Potts of Pasadena.” The alliteration does not make her smile, for the record. Tony lets it linger nonetheless, then continues. “Can you confirm that you are, in fact, named after the Beatles’ magnum opus: Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Band Club?”
Her mouth drops open, stupidly. She blinks five times, in quick succession. Then, she bursts out laughing.
Tony fist bumps the air, then claps in victory.
Between the shaking shoulders, and her jumpy diaphragm, Pepper can hardly speak. She waves her hands in front of her face, attempting a cool down. And just as her giggles subside, they come back in full force. All she can do is rest her hands on her knees and go through the motions.
Tony continues to sit, patiently, smugly, like a cat catching a fish.
“Give me the money, Sgt. Pepper,” he says, elongating the last syllable of her name into a sing-song.
The laughter subsides until all that’s left is a little quiver in her voice, and standing up straight, she fans her red face.
“Oh, Tony, I would love to give you the money.” The smile on her face is threatening to break it in half.
Making grabby hands, Tony gets halfway out of his seat. “Get your purse out, Pep. No time like I’m-right-o’clock.”
She settles herself entirely, and crosses her arms, shifting away from Tony’s incessant limbs.
“I didn’t even make the bet with you! Go find Brenda.” Pepper rolls her eyes, still smiling. “And you wouldn’t even get the cash anyway.”
Tony stops. It’s his turn to blink. Five times in quick succession.
She shakes her head, fondly. “No, Tony, I am not named after a Beatles album. And also, it’s club band , not band club.”
Without any sense of irony, or shame, Tony starts pouting. He turns his eyes downcast and heaves a sigh so heavy, Pepper can see his blazer grow tight around his shoulders for a second.
“Stop acting like a kicked dog!”
“Pepper, I am a kicked dog. You’ve ruined my dreams.”
“Sorry to hear that your dreams are so… stupid.”
“ Stupid? ” Tony exclaims.
“Yes, stupid! God. You’re the CEO of a company, and this is where your mind wanders on your downtime?” There’s a tone of bemusement in her voice.
“Hey, y’know, your parents should take it as a massive compliment that I assumed their infatuation with the Fab Four.” Tony drags his finger across the desk, keeping up his pout.
“Any white couple over the age of 50 has an infatuation with the Beatles. How astute, Tony!” She claps once with her clipboard in hand. “And ‘Pepper’ isn’t even on my birth certificate. It’s Virginia . Named after the state .”
Unphased, Tony rolls his eyes. “Well, that’s a lot less cool than sgt. Pepper. I’ll tell you that.”
She doesn’t respond, and just crosses her arms, waiting for Tony to get serious again.
There’s a few moments of silence, unavoidably awkward.
Tony stops tracing the wood grain, and looks up at Pepper again. “How come you got that nickname, then?”
She’s taken aback, and it shows on her face, the whites of her eyes becoming a little larger.
“Oh. It’s, uh.” Pepper never stutters. Never .
She clears her throat. “I get freckles in the summer. My dad says it looks like someone took a pepper grinder to my face.” Instead of meeting Tony’s gaze, she stares resolutely at the spot on the wall above his right shoulder.
“You’re turning red, Pep.” She can hear the smile in his voice.
Re-adjusting her clipboard so it’s held horizontally against her hips, Pepper chews her bottom lip for a second. “It’s just that.” She pauses, trying to hold eye contact for a moment. “It’s just that you never really ask my questions like that.”
Tony looks confused. “Like what?”
“Like serious questions. Sincere questions.” Giving up on eye contact, she looks out the floor to ceiling window on her left.
Tony doesn’t say anything, but turns his head as well to look out the same window.
“I didn’t think I was being sincere,” he says, quietly. Maybe to himself.
“You can be, though. You’re capable of it.” She doesn’t turn her head. There’s a crane in the distance, and a little man stands on the platform it holds.
Tony exhales a laugh through his nose. “I never noticed before. But, yeah, your dad was right.”
Pepper turns away from the window, back to Tony. He’s staring at her cheek. She prods at it, and feels the rush of blood again.
“He’s always giving people nicknames.” She says it with nostalgia, past sunsets colouring her tone.
“Must be a Pasadena thing.” Tony raises his eyebrow.
“Like you know anything about Pasadena, Tony.” Pepper raises an eyebrow back.
“Let’s pretend I do.” He gets out of his chair, and walks around his desk. “Let’s pretend I grew up on avocado toast and yoga in LA.”
Pepper cuts him off. “You grew up on French press coffee and taxi cabs, here, in New York.”
Tony stops in front of her. In the Blahniks she’s wearing, she’s a centimetre or two taller.
“Well, I’m pretending . Let’s say we were neighbours.”
“You would’ve been one hell of a neighbour, Tony.”
“I’d play my dad’s records loud enough that you’d hear them through your walls.”
“Sounds like a dream. Blasting what? Rubber Soul?”
Shaking his head vigorously, Tony puts his hands in his pockets. “Hell no. Probably their louder stuff. The White Album?”
Pepper furrows her brow as if she can actually hear the disturbance he would’ve been. “Considering how much you listen to AC/DC, I’m not surprised you’re a Helter Skelter guy.”
The face Tony makes is some attempt at looking impressed. “You know your stuff, Potts.”
“My parents are a white couple over the age of 50, remember?” She checks her Patek. This conversation has cut into her email catch-up.
Tony groans, like a child. “Don’t check your watch! Don’t put that dread in me.”
“The stock market doesn’t wait for you to get back to work , Tony.” She taps the face of her watch.
“Fine, fine. At least I’ve had some insight here.”
“Yes. I hope your thirst for knowledge has been quenched for the day.” She says it flatly, because she knows Tony will find that funnier.
“You cut short my Pasadena roleplay, though.”
“We’ll continue it later, after your meeting with Volkswagen.”
A huff escapes him. “I don’t even know when that is.” Then, he waggles his brows. “But, yep. Let’s continue this later .”
All Pepper can do is pinch the space between her eyebrows. Hard. “You’re so gross, sometimes.”
“Always for you, sergeant.”
With all seriousness, Pepper wags her finger at Tony. “ Do not start calling me sergeant. I swear to God.”
Smirking, Tony leans close. In response, Pepper holds up her clipboard between them. Muffled behind the divider, Tony sing-songs “you’ll have to make me.”
She drops the clipboard to her side. “Ugh, whatever. I’m going back to my office. We’ll fix your schedule after you wear yourself out.”
Tony follows her to the door, a step behind. As she opens it, she turns to him.
“I’ll see you-“
She’s greeted with a face moving closer, eyes shut and lips pushed out.
On instinct, her clipboard collides with Tony’s face.
“Ow! Pepper! I was just joking!”
Already walking down the corridor, she turns her head over her shoulder. “I’ll see you later , Tony.”
She makes sure he can’t see her smile.