Work Text:
“I don’t see why I can’t just have Happy,” Tony said as he slid his arms into a dove-grey silk shirt. “I like Happy.”
Without looking up from her Starkphone, Pepper said, “After the incident last week, it’s clear you need better protection. I’m not willing to risk you.”
Tony’s hand hovered over the case on his dresser for a second before plucking a set of cufflinks from within. With a few deft movements, they were glittering at the cuff of his sleeve.
He whirled around to give Pepper his best unimpressed look. “So you’re hiring the latest fad? It’s tacky. If we’re hiring someone everyone is going to see, we might as well pick up a bouncer from a nightclub. Besides, I was barely even scratched.”
Pepper raised an eyebrow at the row of staples across Tony’s abdomen as he rushed to button his shirt and slacks, then sighed. “I did not hire a werewolf because it’s fashionable. He came very highly rated and I think he’s a good fit with the rest of your security team. You’ll like him.”
“Yeah, and I’m sure he’ll like chewing on my Giacomettis.” Petulant frown firmly in place, Tony jerked his head over to the shoe closet as he looped a tie around his neck. He had carefully cultivated a reputation of being hard to work with, how had she managed to get one of the few werewolves in the security sector to sign on?
He had seen those high ratings in the guy’s file. Exemplary record with the military– before his lycanthropy manifested of course, heavy involvement in classified operations before his discharge, and glowing reviews from a series of highly confidential clients. Tony had taken a peek behind all the “redacteds” and found the usual, though guarding the President, that was a surprise. Roger Grant seemed almost too perfect.
“Don’t make me send you back to the company’s sensitivity seminars,” Pepper threatened as she hid a smile behind her hand. He always appreciated the way she tried not to laugh at his awful jokes, he wished things had worked out between them. “Finish getting ready. I need you out of here in five minutes.”
Grabbing his jacket off the hanger, Tony said, “Shouldn’t I get a say in who we hire as my bodyguard, since it is my body he’ll be guarding after all?”
“He’s already waiting in the lobby to accompany you to your meeting with the senator. You’ll just have to live with him until this mess blows over.” Pepper stood gracefully and exited the room.
“Holy—” That was a full-shift werewolf alright.
It—he was waiting for Tony just outside the elevator doors, sat at attention in a navy blue tactical vest with a silver star over the heart, leaving no doubt that this was Tony’s bodyguard to be. His nose was working overtime, taking in Tony—and everyone else’s scent.
Tony forgot what it was like to actually encounter a full-shift werewolf. It came with an odd prickle of fear—an instinctual reminder that humans were not always at the top of the food chain. Not to mention tat Grant was huge, practically the size of a pony. Sandy brown fur, piercing blue eyes. This was who would be following Tony around? He supposed there was the intimidation factor at least.
Grant stood as soon as Tony stepped out from the elevator, turning his intelligent blue eyes on Tony, so un-wolf-like that Tony was instantly reminded that underneath that fur was a person.
With some difficulty, Tony tore his gaze from him and back to his phone. He flicked through a few emails. There was something about the annual arctic expedition, a co-funder pulling support, he’d have to follow up on that.
“Mr. Stark.” Grant’s voice rumbled like a prolonged growl. “I’m Roger Grant, I’ll be your bodyguard.”
Tony could never get over the oddity of someone wolf-shaped speaking, not that he had much opportunity to see it. Theoretically it shouldn’t be possible; their mouths just weren’t the right shape, but like many aspects of lycanthropy, it was shrouded in mystery, since the survivors of the experiment and their descendants were understandably a little reluctant to be studied.
“Not that I need one.”
“He does,” Pepper interjected.
Grant dipped his massive head. “I’ve been briefed on the threats against your life.”
“I’ve had threats against my life since I was five. I can deal with it,” Tony said, waving dismissively. All this business with threats was truly old hat. He didn’t know why Pepper was getting so touchy about it.
Pepper glared. “Tony, we discussed this.”
“And I said—”
“I’ve been contracted for a period of three months with options to extend should it prove needed. I will be protecting you regardless of how necessary you find it.”
“Thank you,” Pepper said with obvious relief. “Now we should get going. We have to meet Senator Blanch in thirty minutes and traffic is terrible this time of day.”
Grant easily fell into step with Tony, trailing slightly behind as they walked to the car.
Tony watched him out of the corner of his eye, before casually commenting, “Shouldn’t you be terrorizing little pigs and girls in red capes?”
“Tony!” Pepper said.
“It’s alright, Ms. Potts. I can handle it,” Grant said. To Tony, he added, “I took care of that before I ate the boy who cried wolf.”
Despite himself, Tony held back a smile. He reminded himself that there was a reason he didn’t want any bodyguards besides Happy, who mostly just did the driving. They did nothing but make his life harder. The sooner he could drive Grant off the better.
“So, what unit did your grandfather serve in?” Tony asked innocently.
Grant’s ear flicked. “What?”
“Well, there’s only a few that were involved in Hydra’s experiments—the 92nd, the 69th, the 107th – I just wondered which one your grandfather had been in,” Tony asked.
After a moment, Grant replied, “The 107th.”
“Did he tell you that you might suddenly turn into the big bad wolf in stressful situations or did you have to figure that out yourself after you enlisted?”
“My personal history is hardly relevant, Mr. Stark.”
“Come on, Lobo, I can hardly trust someone I don’t know with my life, can I?”
Grant doesn’t say anything for quite some time. They are already in the car and driving off, before he asks with an air of confusion, “Lobo?”
“What? Does that not work for you? How about Cap? That was your rank, wasn’t it? Did the boys back in the service call you that?”
Immediately, Grant’s ears pressed flat. “I’m nobody’s Captain anymore.”
Cheerfully, Tony replied, “Well, I like the sound of Cap, so I think I’m going to stick with that, Cap.”
Grant—now dubbed Cap—remained silent at that. His ears stayed flat, expressing his displeasure.
Deciding to press his advantage, Tony asked, “So, Cap, why did you go into body guarding rich assholes like me?”
Predictably, Grant didn’t answer. Were Tony’s attempts to annoy him paying off already? This was easier than Tony thought.
Then Grant surprised him, but sighing and replying, “I couldn’t go back to the army and, well, it seemed like the thing to do. A way to save lives.”
Tony laughed at the irony. Protecting Tony was hardly saving lives. “You heard about why Pepper thinks I need extra protection? Not the who, but the why.”
Damn Calloway. There had been a reason Tony got out of the weapons business and sealed away all of his in-progress designs.
Grant nodded his head. “Of course I did. I check out all my potential clients.”
“And you still signed on?”
“Mr. Stark, I know what people are saying, but it’s not your fault.” Grant turned, pinning Tony in place with those bright blue eyes of his. “Those plans were stolen from you. You’ve done everything you could to reclaim them, short of going out there and taking them yourself.”
Tell that to the mothers whose sons were killed by his weapons. “You don’t carry much with you, do you? Do you even have a change of clothes in those pockets?”
“I don’t shift if I don’t have to, and if I have to, well, pants aren’t going to be my biggest problem.”
“So, why full-shift? Do you really stay like that all day?”
The file on Roger Grant made a note that his choice to remain full-shift had to do with severe facial scaring, though there was no picture included. However, Tony suspected there was a reason beyond that. It was a well known fact that psychological triggers could make it difficult for werewolves to shift forms and constant stress lent itself rather well to remaining in wolf form. In short, Grant was likely suffering from PTSD.
Tony continued, “Must be difficult, not a lot of accommodations for someone with paws instead of hands. Opening doors must be a bitch.”
To Tony’s surprise, Grant’s jaws dropped open in a lupine laugh before he snapped them shut and resumed his serious demeanor. “I get by. You’d be surprised how many of them are automatic these days.”
Tony hadn’t exactly been keeping track, but he had to guess not enough. Maybe five times out of ten, optimistically, Cap could just press a button to get in to a place, but Tony could picture him politely waiting for someone to follow in the other five times.
Life hadn’t always been like that for him.
“It’s like a whole different world now, huh?” Cap started at that, fur bristling. Tony quickly continued, “Before your latent lycanthropy decided paws were the way to go, you probably didn’t even notice if a door was automatic or not.”
“Before…right.” Grant let out a canine sigh, his ears and tail drooping slightly. “No, not much is how I remembered it.”
For the first time, Tony wondered what Grant looked like under all that fur, he wanted a human face to put to him.
They arrived at their destination. Grant hopped out of the car first, scanning the scene for any threats, before letting Tony out of the car. “After you, Mr. Stark.”
“Call me, Tony.” If Grant was going to be guarding him—just until this blew over—he couldn’t keep calling him ‘Mr. Stark.’