hackthis_archive (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hackthis_archive) wrote2008-05-27 11:34 am
hackthis_archive) wrote2008-05-27 11:34 am
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Iron Man – It Takes a Village to Raise a Tony Stark (Tony, Pepper, Rhodes, Jarvis - PG13)
Iron Man (movie)
Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Jim Rhodes, Jarvis, Happy
Rated PG-13
It Takes a Village to Raise a Tony Stark
There is a yellow post-it on Tony Stark's forehead when he wakes up at 6:00a.m. on Tuesday morning. According to Jarvis, it is sixty-eight degrees Fahrenheit or twenty degrees Celsius in Malibu. Sunrise will occur in thirteen minutes. There's a strong breeze on the water and conditions are excellent for surfing.
If Tony surfed.
At the moment, however, Tony's not really thinking about surfing. Tony's not even thinking about the surfing goddess who once tried to teach him how to surf and then ended up giving him this awesome blow job in the flatbed of her truck.
It was Hawaii; you had to be there.
At the moment, all Tony's doing is thinking about how he can't quite make out what the post-it says, because it's too early for reading comprehension. It's never too early for basketball though, so he balls up the post-it and tosses it into the void.
"Two points, Jarvis," Tony calls before closing his eyes and rolling over onto his side, onto something loud and crackly.
"Yes, sir," Jarvis replies dutifully.
Crackly?
Tony opens one eye and there's another post-it. And another. And another.
In fact, Tony's entire bed is covered with yellow post-its.
Tony knows when he's been bested.
He picks up a post-it and reads:
Your Social Security Number is 565-72-1434. – Pepper
Tony sighs and rolls over once, crackle, twice, crackle, floor.
"Ow!"
Rhodey calls when Tony's in the shower.
Tony's not actually using the shower for its intended purpose at the moment. He meant to when he went in the bathroom. He even turned on the shower and stripped down to prove it, but then the bathroom filled up with steam and Tony got distracted with drawing dirty pictures on the mirror and explaining them in detail to Jarvis. So, when Rhodey calls, Tony doesn't think anything of picking up the video call. Naked.
"Rhodey, what was the name of that girl we met in Barbados that could do that thing with the ping-pong balls?"
To Rhodey's credit he doesn't seem that phased that Tony's talking to him from the bathroom. In fact, when Tony glances over at the screen, Rhodey doesn't even seem to be looking at the video screen at all. "Tony, where the hell are you?"
"I'm in the shower. Well, not in the shower, as you can see—"
"Not that I want to see," Rhodey corrects, now somewhere off-screen.
"Aw, come on, I know I've got a big glowy hole in my chest, but I think I look pretty good all things considered. Definitely better than that one time in Aruba when I caught the clap and crabs on the same trip."
Rhodes makes a noise of disgust. "I feel like I need a HAZMAT suit just to talk to you."
"I'm really feeling the love this morning, you know. I think my big glowy heart is pulsing just for you."
Rhodey appears on the screen with his eyes partially-covered like he's never seen Tony naked before. Hah. "Please don't use the word 'pulsing' around me ever again, okay?"
Tony doesn't pout, but he wants to. "You're no fun."
"You're only mad because I don't blow ping-pong balls out my ass."
Tony smirks. "This is true."
Tony likes to drive to work so he can scare people half to death on PCH, and by 'people' he generally means Happy driving the Bentley along behind him. Today, however, Tony is inspired, and when Tony is inspired he lets Happy drive him to work so Tony can work his data pad without running his Audi off the road. That happened once. Twice.
Right now, Tony's brain is spinning in eight different directions, but there's something poking at him. It might be the post-it that Pepper stuck on the inside pocket of his suit. He can't help snorting softly to himself.
"Pepper says I can't live without her," he tells Happy. "She says I don't even know my own Social Security Number."
Happy laughs. "565-72-1434"
Tony glances down at the post-it in his hand and then at the back of Happy's head. "How did you know that?" Tony doesn't even try to hide his incredulous tone.
Happy glances at Tony in the rearview mirror. "I know lots of things, sir. It's why you keep me around."
Tony shakes his head with a laugh. "I know lots of things too, Hap. I know the date that I installed the stripper pole in the jet -- June 12, 2003."
"No, sir, "Happy corrects. "That was April 2, 2002."
"No, that's -- is that it?"
"Yes, sir."
"And how do you know that?"
"Because you said it was a birthday present for Colonel Rhodes, sir."
That does sound like something Tony would say. And do. "Rhodey's birthday is in April? I thought it was –- um, I dunno when."
"His birthday is in October, sir, you said it was an early birthday gift. The one that kept on giving."
Tony ponders this for a moment. As far as repeat gifts go, it's certainly better than a sexually transmitted disease.
Tony doesn't know what he would do without Pepper. He really doesn't. And to show his appreciation he walks into his office with one of her yellow post-its on his forehead. To her credit, Pepper doesn't even blink. "Good morning, Mr. Stark," she says, trailing him into the inner sanctum with an espresso shot and her PDA.
Tony tosses his jacket on the sofa, sits down at his desk and loosens his tie. "Good morning, Ms. Potts." Tony's delivery is perfectly deadpan. He takes his espresso, downs it in one and listens thoughtfully as Pepper runs down his schedule and they both act as though he doesn't have a piece of paper stuck to his forehead.
Tony likes Pepper's skirt. It could be shorter though. It always can be shorter. She could also show more cleavage. He likes the freckles. He wouldn't mind seeing more of them.
"And then Iron Man is supposed to sing Kumbaya on the beach for the Make-a-Wish Foundation and have a bonfire," she finishes.
Tony blinks. "Am I going to have a full backing choir? Because, you know, I like choirs when I sing."
"I think it's just supposed to be an acoustic performance," Pepper says mildly. "You and your guitar."
"Oh," Tony says, "well, I hope it's one of those two-neck guitars. I like those."
"I think you just like big things, Mr. Stark," Pepper mocks.
"Well, you know what my dad said," Tony begins
"Yes, Tony, I know."
"Peace is having a stick bigger than the other guy," Pepper and Tony parrot in tandem.
Tony smiles beatifically, the smile growing as Pepper leans over him slightly; she smells of lavender and one of the eight ice-blended mochas she drinks everyday.
"Well, sir," she says, yanking the post-it off his forehead, "perhaps you might use that stick to write down your Social Security Number every once in a while."
Tony calls the arc reactor in his chest Maggie. He named it when it was just a glorified magnet, Maggie the Magnet. And then he built his first miniature arc reactor, which he thought he should call Henry. No, he doesn't know why he wanted to call it Henry, probably in keeping with that male electronic personality habit -- but it was still Maggie, just an upgraded version of Maggie.
Now Tony's got a third upgrade of his arc reactor, but it's still just Maggie. She's the only woman in his life who doesn't have to be cleaned up after. Not that Tony has ever had to clean up after Pepper, but if Tony kissed Pepper then there would probably be a small explosion -- not unlike an arsenal of Stark Industry toys going off in a series of caves outside Gulmira -- and Tony doesn't need that. He doesn't have anybody else besides Pepper -- and most of the time Rhodey and Happy -- but people leave.
Maggie, though, Maggie won't leave him. And if she does, he'll be dead so it won't matter anyway.
Nobody ever said that Tony couldn't be a morbid asshole when he wants to be.
Tony Stark is Iron Man, but when he's at home, he's just God.
No, really, he is.
Tony created Jarvis, who knows everything, and Dummy, who well, there's no excuse for him, but he's kind of cute when he's not convinced Tony's on fire.
Tonight, Tony's tinkering around with Dummy's circuits, because what Dummy really needs is some sort of heat sensor or interface which understands the difference between fire and totalling a classic car. Only Dummy couldn't tell the difference.
"Jarvis, what's my Social Security Number?" Tony asks this not because he doesn't know, he's God, of course he knows. He just has to make sure that his son knows everything –-
Maybe he should've called Jarvis Jesus instead.
"565-72-1434, sir." Jarvis' tone is somewhere between matter-of-fact, omniscience and "you've got to be kidding me. You created me for this?"
Tony wipes his forehead with the back of his hand and then glances down at his palm to check, the numbers he wrote on his hand are smeared. They're probably on his forehead.
"Jarvis, do you know everything?"
"No, not everything, sir, just most things."
"Just most things," Tony mocks. "Do you know where Christine Everheart's birthmark is?"
"Sir, I try to stay out of your sexual exploits," Jarvis begins.
"Lies, all lies," Tony says.
"However," Jarvis carries on, "I do have video feeds of every room in the house, so if I were to run the video from your assignation with Ms. Everheart on the screen..."
Tony freezes mid-surgery as the unmistakable sound of a woman's panting fills his ears. On every screen of the workshop there's now an HD clear video of Tony and a woman – that is not Christine Everheart. Oh, thank God.
Oh, he's God, right.
It's not Tony's imagination that Dummy is trying to wriggle around to see a screen, any screen. "You don't have eyes," Tony reminds him. "You can't see anything anyway."
Dummy makes what can only be a sigh of the long suffering.
"Jarvis, I think if you want a future in blackmail, you should probably make sure to label your footage right. That's Miss Maxim July 2007. She was much more flexible than Ms. Everheart."
"I'll be sure to check my libraries again," Jarvis says dryly.
Tony smiles down at Dummy's circuits. "You do that, genius."
The last person Tony speaks to everyday is Pepper. Generally she's also the first person he speaks to everyday, too. Whether by phone or e-mail or post-it, Pepper is Tony's glue. Sometimes Tony has to wake his glue up to say good night though.
"I learned something new today," Tony says proudly when Pepper picks up the phone.
There's a pause. "Tony, it's a quarter to three in the morning."
"Okay, so, technically, I learned this yesterday."
Pepper yawns loudly. "Do I need to take notes?"
"No, it's my Social Security Number. You already know it."
Pepper's laugh is interrupted by another yawn. "Okay, impress me."
"565-72-1434," Tony recites proudly.
"Congratulations, Mr. Stark, do you want a cookie too? How did you graduate from college without knowing your Social Security Number?"
"I was seventeen when I graduated from M.I.T.," Tony points out. "I couldn't even drink legally, why would I worry about anything else?"
"And I'm sure you made your own alcohol to compensate," Pepper points out.
"Don't cloud the issue with facts."
"I was asleep when you called, how's that for a fact?"
"Why, Ms. Potts, are you trying to get rid of me?"
"I'm trying to get some sleep, Mr. Stark, so I can come in tomorrow morning and re-paper your bed with other basic facts about yourself that you should know."
"'Facts About Myself I Should Know' -- I feel like that could lead down a bad road."
"I can't imagine why."
"You wound me, Ms. Potts. You know, there are lots of better ways to wake me up," Tony says slyly. "I can think of a few off the top of my head."
"In your dreams, Tony," Pepper laughs.
Tony smiles even though Pepper can't see it. "I'll see you there then, Ms. Potts."
"I'm sure you will. I'll be the one picking up the dry cleaning and taking out the trash."
Tony's quiet for a minute. "Maybe we can talk about some new job duties, some that involve cutting down on the trash and getting a more efficient model. Stark Industries is supposed to be setting a good example."
Pepper doesn't say anything immediately, but her tone is quieter when she replies. "I think anything is possible if you try hard enough."
"Anything?"
"We'll see. Good night, Mr. Stark."
Tony shakes his head. Of course. "Good night, Ms. Potts."
-end-
Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Jim Rhodes, Jarvis, Happy
Rated PG-13
There is a yellow post-it on Tony Stark's forehead when he wakes up at 6:00a.m. on Tuesday morning. According to Jarvis, it is sixty-eight degrees Fahrenheit or twenty degrees Celsius in Malibu. Sunrise will occur in thirteen minutes. There's a strong breeze on the water and conditions are excellent for surfing.
If Tony surfed.
At the moment, however, Tony's not really thinking about surfing. Tony's not even thinking about the surfing goddess who once tried to teach him how to surf and then ended up giving him this awesome blow job in the flatbed of her truck.
It was Hawaii; you had to be there.
At the moment, all Tony's doing is thinking about how he can't quite make out what the post-it says, because it's too early for reading comprehension. It's never too early for basketball though, so he balls up the post-it and tosses it into the void.
"Two points, Jarvis," Tony calls before closing his eyes and rolling over onto his side, onto something loud and crackly.
"Yes, sir," Jarvis replies dutifully.
Crackly?
Tony opens one eye and there's another post-it. And another. And another.
In fact, Tony's entire bed is covered with yellow post-its.
Tony knows when he's been bested.
He picks up a post-it and reads:
Tony sighs and rolls over once, crackle, twice, crackle, floor.
"Ow!"
Rhodey calls when Tony's in the shower.
Tony's not actually using the shower for its intended purpose at the moment. He meant to when he went in the bathroom. He even turned on the shower and stripped down to prove it, but then the bathroom filled up with steam and Tony got distracted with drawing dirty pictures on the mirror and explaining them in detail to Jarvis. So, when Rhodey calls, Tony doesn't think anything of picking up the video call. Naked.
"Rhodey, what was the name of that girl we met in Barbados that could do that thing with the ping-pong balls?"
To Rhodey's credit he doesn't seem that phased that Tony's talking to him from the bathroom. In fact, when Tony glances over at the screen, Rhodey doesn't even seem to be looking at the video screen at all. "Tony, where the hell are you?"
"I'm in the shower. Well, not in the shower, as you can see—"
"Not that I want to see," Rhodey corrects, now somewhere off-screen.
"Aw, come on, I know I've got a big glowy hole in my chest, but I think I look pretty good all things considered. Definitely better than that one time in Aruba when I caught the clap and crabs on the same trip."
Rhodes makes a noise of disgust. "I feel like I need a HAZMAT suit just to talk to you."
"I'm really feeling the love this morning, you know. I think my big glowy heart is pulsing just for you."
Rhodey appears on the screen with his eyes partially-covered like he's never seen Tony naked before. Hah. "Please don't use the word 'pulsing' around me ever again, okay?"
Tony doesn't pout, but he wants to. "You're no fun."
"You're only mad because I don't blow ping-pong balls out my ass."
Tony smirks. "This is true."
Tony likes to drive to work so he can scare people half to death on PCH, and by 'people' he generally means Happy driving the Bentley along behind him. Today, however, Tony is inspired, and when Tony is inspired he lets Happy drive him to work so Tony can work his data pad without running his Audi off the road. That happened once. Twice.
Right now, Tony's brain is spinning in eight different directions, but there's something poking at him. It might be the post-it that Pepper stuck on the inside pocket of his suit. He can't help snorting softly to himself.
"Pepper says I can't live without her," he tells Happy. "She says I don't even know my own Social Security Number."
Happy laughs. "565-72-1434"
Tony glances down at the post-it in his hand and then at the back of Happy's head. "How did you know that?" Tony doesn't even try to hide his incredulous tone.
Happy glances at Tony in the rearview mirror. "I know lots of things, sir. It's why you keep me around."
Tony shakes his head with a laugh. "I know lots of things too, Hap. I know the date that I installed the stripper pole in the jet -- June 12, 2003."
"No, sir, "Happy corrects. "That was April 2, 2002."
"No, that's -- is that it?"
"Yes, sir."
"And how do you know that?"
"Because you said it was a birthday present for Colonel Rhodes, sir."
That does sound like something Tony would say. And do. "Rhodey's birthday is in April? I thought it was –- um, I dunno when."
"His birthday is in October, sir, you said it was an early birthday gift. The one that kept on giving."
Tony ponders this for a moment. As far as repeat gifts go, it's certainly better than a sexually transmitted disease.
Tony doesn't know what he would do without Pepper. He really doesn't. And to show his appreciation he walks into his office with one of her yellow post-its on his forehead. To her credit, Pepper doesn't even blink. "Good morning, Mr. Stark," she says, trailing him into the inner sanctum with an espresso shot and her PDA.
Tony tosses his jacket on the sofa, sits down at his desk and loosens his tie. "Good morning, Ms. Potts." Tony's delivery is perfectly deadpan. He takes his espresso, downs it in one and listens thoughtfully as Pepper runs down his schedule and they both act as though he doesn't have a piece of paper stuck to his forehead.
Tony likes Pepper's skirt. It could be shorter though. It always can be shorter. She could also show more cleavage. He likes the freckles. He wouldn't mind seeing more of them.
"And then Iron Man is supposed to sing Kumbaya on the beach for the Make-a-Wish Foundation and have a bonfire," she finishes.
Tony blinks. "Am I going to have a full backing choir? Because, you know, I like choirs when I sing."
"I think it's just supposed to be an acoustic performance," Pepper says mildly. "You and your guitar."
"Oh," Tony says, "well, I hope it's one of those two-neck guitars. I like those."
"I think you just like big things, Mr. Stark," Pepper mocks.
"Well, you know what my dad said," Tony begins
"Yes, Tony, I know."
"Peace is having a stick bigger than the other guy," Pepper and Tony parrot in tandem.
Tony smiles beatifically, the smile growing as Pepper leans over him slightly; she smells of lavender and one of the eight ice-blended mochas she drinks everyday.
"Well, sir," she says, yanking the post-it off his forehead, "perhaps you might use that stick to write down your Social Security Number every once in a while."
Tony calls the arc reactor in his chest Maggie. He named it when it was just a glorified magnet, Maggie the Magnet. And then he built his first miniature arc reactor, which he thought he should call Henry. No, he doesn't know why he wanted to call it Henry, probably in keeping with that male electronic personality habit -- but it was still Maggie, just an upgraded version of Maggie.
Now Tony's got a third upgrade of his arc reactor, but it's still just Maggie. She's the only woman in his life who doesn't have to be cleaned up after. Not that Tony has ever had to clean up after Pepper, but if Tony kissed Pepper then there would probably be a small explosion -- not unlike an arsenal of Stark Industry toys going off in a series of caves outside Gulmira -- and Tony doesn't need that. He doesn't have anybody else besides Pepper -- and most of the time Rhodey and Happy -- but people leave.
Maggie, though, Maggie won't leave him. And if she does, he'll be dead so it won't matter anyway.
Nobody ever said that Tony couldn't be a morbid asshole when he wants to be.
Tony Stark is Iron Man, but when he's at home, he's just God.
No, really, he is.
Tony created Jarvis, who knows everything, and Dummy, who well, there's no excuse for him, but he's kind of cute when he's not convinced Tony's on fire.
Tonight, Tony's tinkering around with Dummy's circuits, because what Dummy really needs is some sort of heat sensor or interface which understands the difference between fire and totalling a classic car. Only Dummy couldn't tell the difference.
"Jarvis, what's my Social Security Number?" Tony asks this not because he doesn't know, he's God, of course he knows. He just has to make sure that his son knows everything –-
Maybe he should've called Jarvis Jesus instead.
"565-72-1434, sir." Jarvis' tone is somewhere between matter-of-fact, omniscience and "you've got to be kidding me. You created me for this?"
Tony wipes his forehead with the back of his hand and then glances down at his palm to check, the numbers he wrote on his hand are smeared. They're probably on his forehead.
"Jarvis, do you know everything?"
"No, not everything, sir, just most things."
"Just most things," Tony mocks. "Do you know where Christine Everheart's birthmark is?"
"Sir, I try to stay out of your sexual exploits," Jarvis begins.
"Lies, all lies," Tony says.
"However," Jarvis carries on, "I do have video feeds of every room in the house, so if I were to run the video from your assignation with Ms. Everheart on the screen..."
Tony freezes mid-surgery as the unmistakable sound of a woman's panting fills his ears. On every screen of the workshop there's now an HD clear video of Tony and a woman – that is not Christine Everheart. Oh, thank God.
Oh, he's God, right.
It's not Tony's imagination that Dummy is trying to wriggle around to see a screen, any screen. "You don't have eyes," Tony reminds him. "You can't see anything anyway."
Dummy makes what can only be a sigh of the long suffering.
"Jarvis, I think if you want a future in blackmail, you should probably make sure to label your footage right. That's Miss Maxim July 2007. She was much more flexible than Ms. Everheart."
"I'll be sure to check my libraries again," Jarvis says dryly.
Tony smiles down at Dummy's circuits. "You do that, genius."
The last person Tony speaks to everyday is Pepper. Generally she's also the first person he speaks to everyday, too. Whether by phone or e-mail or post-it, Pepper is Tony's glue. Sometimes Tony has to wake his glue up to say good night though.
"I learned something new today," Tony says proudly when Pepper picks up the phone.
There's a pause. "Tony, it's a quarter to three in the morning."
"Okay, so, technically, I learned this yesterday."
Pepper yawns loudly. "Do I need to take notes?"
"No, it's my Social Security Number. You already know it."
Pepper's laugh is interrupted by another yawn. "Okay, impress me."
"565-72-1434," Tony recites proudly.
"Congratulations, Mr. Stark, do you want a cookie too? How did you graduate from college without knowing your Social Security Number?"
"I was seventeen when I graduated from M.I.T.," Tony points out. "I couldn't even drink legally, why would I worry about anything else?"
"And I'm sure you made your own alcohol to compensate," Pepper points out.
"Don't cloud the issue with facts."
"I was asleep when you called, how's that for a fact?"
"Why, Ms. Potts, are you trying to get rid of me?"
"I'm trying to get some sleep, Mr. Stark, so I can come in tomorrow morning and re-paper your bed with other basic facts about yourself that you should know."
"'Facts About Myself I Should Know' -- I feel like that could lead down a bad road."
"I can't imagine why."
"You wound me, Ms. Potts. You know, there are lots of better ways to wake me up," Tony says slyly. "I can think of a few off the top of my head."
"In your dreams, Tony," Pepper laughs.
Tony smiles even though Pepper can't see it. "I'll see you there then, Ms. Potts."
"I'm sure you will. I'll be the one picking up the dry cleaning and taking out the trash."
Tony's quiet for a minute. "Maybe we can talk about some new job duties, some that involve cutting down on the trash and getting a more efficient model. Stark Industries is supposed to be setting a good example."
Pepper doesn't say anything immediately, but her tone is quieter when she replies. "I think anything is possible if you try hard enough."
"Anything?"
"We'll see. Good night, Mr. Stark."
Tony shakes his head. Of course. "Good night, Ms. Potts."
-end-
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