Chapter Text
James is giving a tour with a bunch of green airmen the next time he sees Tony. There’s a mix of joy and dread in his heart. Tony’s up and walking around and looking as healthy as ever. But he’s about to blow through his minutes from strangled, barely-coherent, sob-heavy calls from Pepper on account of the fact that Tony won’t go talk to anyone, and Tony won’t leave his lab for days on end, and she had her entire hand in Tony’s chest just days ago because Tony won’t go to a damned doctor. The phrase ‘cardiac arrest’ is where he stopped trying to comfort her and just started agreeing that it was fucked up and Tony wasn’t okay and he didn’t know what to do about it either. According to Pepper, Tony has stopped drinking, which is nice to hear, but it sounds like he’s just substituted one crutch for another. Still, James gets a look at him and thinks that it would be easy to miss just from the way he’s strutting around.
Then Tony opens his mouth and starts up with the spring break story, and James suddenly remembers what it feels like to want to strangle him. Tony probably doesn’t even realize how far in the doghouse James is with the Pentagon on account of him. And while nothing happened with Ivan except for the most fun he’s ever had in a karaoke bar--apparently it’s a rule somewhere that you can’t be a Cher impersonator without having a great set of pipes--it wouldn’t take an investigator long to dig up a list of a half-dozen guys he has gone to bed with, with Tony Stark being number one with a bullet. The last thing he needs right now is Tony starting rumors. He gets rid of the tour group and takes a good, long look at Tony.
If he hadn’t been there, he wouldn’t know how bad Tony had looked when they first picked him up out of the sand. Tony’s putting up a good front. His clothes cover up the bulge of the arc reactor, and his face only looks a shade or two too tense instead of the knife-edge he was teetering on before. He looks almost like his old self when he tells James that he’s working on something big.
“I want you to be a part of it.”
James can recognize a peace-offering when he sees one, and he can’t help the smile that lights up his face. He might as well have been making his “give him time, give him space, let me talk to him” pitch to a brick wall on the ride back to base from the press conference. While he hadn’t exactly been barred from talking to Tony, he’d been essentially barred from talking to Tony. Something like this? It would smooth things over, get things a little closer to normal. Tony’s stock would tick back up. Tony would be back to working with a team of engineers instead of walling himself off in his lab. They can probably strong-arm Tony into a doctor’s office before his lungs give out or he electrocutes himself or any of the other nightmare scenarios that keep James and Pepper awake at night can play out.
“This...is not for the military,” Tony says slowly, like he realizes what bubble he’s about to burst. There’s something else there, too, but James can’t pick it out from the foreground of Tony’s sudden hesitance. “It’s different.”
He knows it’s irrational when his mind connects the dots between scuttlebutt that it was blackmarket American weapons that had been used to attack the convoy, and Tony working on something big that’s not for the military, and the clusterfuck that American mercenary operations have turned into, and the SHIELD agent--and God, has he heard some bad shit about them--who keeps sniffing around, and the way the MI people were calling him twice a day before he told them he was grounded. Tony may be a lot of things, but he’s not the sort of slime to crawl into bed with people like Aegis and Blackwater, and there’s nothing on the face of the planet that could change that. But James also knows he’s drawing a complete blank about what else it could be, because while he hasn’t worked with that many NGOs, he’s never even heard of one that could afford Stark Industries merchandise and wasn’t crooked as hell. And Tony should know by now that James doesn’t work on things on the sly; he and the Air Force are a package deal.
He sounds too bitter by half even to himself, and there’s an edge in his voice when he asks if Tony’s turned humanitarian now. Tony, on the other hand, sounds serious when he starts to argue, and there are alarm bells going off in the back of James’s head that he doesn’t want to be hearing.
“What you need is time to get your mind right,” he says firmly. Whatever is going on in Tony’s head right now, it’s a reaction to trauma and stress and anger, and once he’s started to put himself back together, they’re going to pretend this whole conversation never happened.
Tony gives him the sort of smile that he usually reserves for people who are trying to fuck him over, and James reminds himself of the shrapnel in Tony’s chest and the ruin he escaped from. Whatever the fuck is going on, Tony will sort himself out. He just needs time. Time, and a minimal number of opportunities to hurt himself.
“It’s nice seeing you, Tony,” he says, cutting it short. He’s not going to give Tony a chance to say anything else he’ll regret later, and he’s not going to give himself that chance, either.
He turns around and walks away, and it feels exactly like it did when he was evacuated from the battlefield before Tony was accounted for. He stiffens his spine and tells himself that it might hurt like hell, but it’s for the best. His stomach is clenched up like he just stepped out into empty space, and he can’t shake the conviction that Tony’s digging himself deeper into a hole. He doesn’t trust himself to continue the conversation right now. He’ll see Pepper later, talk to her about it. It’ll break their unspoken rule that they don’t discuss Tony during their booty-calls, but he’s got a very bad feeling about this whole thing, and the people who’d be interested in this have a habit of tapping phones.
*****
James is on his second beer when he gets a text from Pepper. He’d had an appointment to get chewed out properly by a full-bird colonel before the tour was even finished. Tony’s visit had raised hopes that nobody particularly liked him dashing, but there wasn’t a good way to spin their conversation. Tony doesn’t want to work with the military. James is not going to be able to talk him back into it. He suspects it’s going to be a while before they’re talking about anything again. Since his superiors can’t yell at Tony, they yelled at him for a bit instead. He’d hit the bar as soon as he was off and didn’t bother looking at the clock again until his phone chimed.
He’s looking at it now, and it’s early for her to be wanting him. Still, the text isn’t ambiguous. He has the bartender call him a cab and texts her back. He needs to talk to her anyway. Tonight’s maybe sooner than he wanted to do it, but it’s not necessarily a good idea to wait. James finishes his beer and slides out of his seat. He’s always been a bit of a lightweight, but he shakes it off quick once he’s up and moving. He’s got the whole drive to Pepper’s place to figure out what he’s going to tell her, and he does his best to concentrate in the face of the steady drone of the driver’s weirdly specific theories on why the Mets are losing this time.
He needn’t have bothered. The first thing he gets when he walks through the door is her practically vibrating in his arms. She spends the next ten minutes pacing and ranting about the lab and all the materials Tony’s ordering and how hard it is to even get Tony to take meal breaks anymore. The arc reactor gets mentioned at least three times. With what he needs to talk to her about, he’s grateful that he’s not the first one to bring up Tony.
“I had my whole hand in his chest, Rhodey,” she tells him, pointing to a spot on her wrist. “Up to here. And I just--that’s not--” She pushes her hair out of her face. “He won’t even go to a GP. He has a fucking cylinder that I can get my whole fucking hand in sitting in his chest, and he won’t see a doctor.”
“I know,” he says, wrapping her up in a hug. She melts against him and lays her head on his shoulder.
“I just don’t know what to do.”
“Me, neither.” James sighs. On the one hand, at least the thing keeping Tony alive is a better model. On the other hand, everything Pepper’s said in the last ten minutes. “He came to see me today.”
“At the base?” she asks. “He didn’t say he was going to. Does he want to start working again? Please tell me he wants to start working again. I mean, real work, not twenty-hour stretches in the lab with just JARVIS and twenty pounds of titanium for company.”
“He said he’s working on something big, and he wants me in on it,” James tells her.
Her face relaxes, and then she catches his expression. “That’s not good news? Why is that not good news?”
“He says it’s not for the military.”
Pepper rubs her forehead and mutters a few choice, unladylike words. She points at the couch. “Sit. I’m opening a bottle of wine. You’re splitting it with me.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He gives her a small smile, and she blushes a little and gets to work with the corkscrew.
“If it’s not for the military, then who’s it for?” she asks, levering the cork out.
“He didn’t say. I can’t imagine.”
She frowns as she pours the wine. It’s her favorite pinot noir--James can recognize the label by now--and she typically keeps that in reserve for Friday nights or special occasions. When she shoves a glass in his hand and settles in next to him, he doesn’t ask what the occasion is.
“Why would he go to you about it if it’s not for the military?” It’s almost a rhetorical question, and he shrugs.
“Look, I don’t know what Tony’s up to, but he seems serious about it,” James says slowly. “And I know he doesn’t just make stuff that blows up, but he’s really, really good at making stuff that does blow up. I…”
Pepper twists around to face him, and he can see she’s worried.
“Maybe be careful about those agents who keep trying to interview him?”
“What exactly do you think he’s doing that he needs to be careful about, Rhodey?” she asks carefully.
“Probably nothing.” He rubs his hand through his hair. “Almost definitely nothing. It’s Tony. You’re going to leave the office next week and find your Prius replaced with a hovercar or something, and I’ll feel like an idiot for worrying. But that pitch of his, with those spooks hanging around…”
“Right.” She leans back against him. “So what do I do? Stall them?”
“Works for Tony, why shouldn’t it work for you?” he chuckles. “Especially since it’s Tony they want to talk to. You’re just the person politely brushing them off and then apologizing when Tony doesn’t show up to the appointment they never confirmed.”
She shakes her head and slides her hand up his thigh, and he loops his arm around her shoulders. She feels comfortable against his side, and the wine tastes good on his tongue, and the way she bridled at the suggestion that Tony was up to something reassures him. She sees Tony every day. She’s had her hand halfway through his chest. She’d know if he was up to something that could get him snatched out of his bed by a bunch of black-ops agents. He kisses her hair, and she lets her hand wander a little higher. By the time they’re finishing their second glass, they’re both half-naked and almost ready to go. Pepper’s smiling down at him from where she’s straddling his lap, and he’s grinning up at her and cupping her breasts. She looks like she can’t remember the arc reactor incident, and he feels like he’s never heard the phrase “recalcitrant contractor” from someone who can have him reassigned to McMurdo.
When she takes him by the hand and leads him to the bedroom, it occurs to him that they’ve become a refuge for each other in more than one way. Pepper looks back at him, flushes a bit, and chews her lip.
“I was thinking of something a little bit...different tonight,” she confesses. “If you’re up for it.”
“How different?” James finishes unbuttoning her blouse, and she unzips his pants. They’re practiced now, familiar with each other’s bodies, and he knows when he runs his fingertips down her back and squeezes her ass, she’ll blush hot and get a little wetter than she was before. She knows that if she tweaks his nipples and rubs against him, he’ll be past half-mast before she even looks at his cock.
“I, um, have a strap-on. And I really was hoping you might be interested.”
“In…?”
“Getting pegged,” Pepper blurts, and her cheeks are scarlet now.
It’s not something they’ve done before--it’s not something that he’s done with anyone in a while--but anal’s not exactly something he’s averse to, either. He just hasn’t really been asked in a very, very long time.
“How bad do you want to do this?” he asks, trailing his hands over her hips.
“Really, really bad.” She rolls his balls in her hand and sucks at his nipples. Her eyes are going dark, and her blush is fading a little now that he hasn’t rejected the idea outright.
“Then let’s try it and see.”
The smile she gives him is bright enough to blind him, and he kisses her tenderly.
“Have you done this sort of thing before?” she asks, turning to sort through one of her dresser drawers.
“Not with a girl,” he says, his smile going sly, and her lips twist a little. “You?”
“Not, um, recently.” The blush comes back full force, and he thinks ‘really, really bad’ might have been an understatement. There’s a look in her eyes like she already knows exactly what he’s going to sound like when she makes him come from this and she can hardly wait to hear it.
When she holds up a dildo in silent question, he nods. “Sure.”
It’s actually a little on the small side, but given how long he’s gone without this sort of play, he’d rather err on the side of caution than have to stop before they’ve even really gotten started and swap it out for another. Pepper strips down in record time and chews her lip a little as she watches him undress, and he lets himself have a moment to just enjoy the hunger on her face as he takes off the rest of his clothes. It’s rare for them to skip the foreplay; she loves making a mess of him almost as much as he loves making a mess of her. But she’s in a hurry tonight, and once she gets dildo seated and the harness buckled on, he takes a long, close look at her and finds that he’s in a pretty big hurry, too. There’s something about seeing Pepper, with her slender frame and her graceful curves and her delicate breasts and her Toledo-steel bearing, standing there with a hard-on that pushes every button he’s got. He gives her a wicked look and gets on his knees in front of her, and she actually gasps a little when he takes the tip of the phallus into his mouth.
“Oh my god,” she breathes, staring down at him like the world’s suddenly shrunk to the point of just his mouth on the slim blue cock buckled around her hips. Her nipples are as hard as he’s ever seen them, and she’s already so wet that James can smell her--and fuck, but he wants to taste her so bad his mouth is watering. When he reaches out, takes her hand, and guides it to the back of his head, she makes a little keening sound in the back of her throat. He’s glad then that they went with the smaller dildo, because it slides into his mouth and almost to his throat with no effort at all. Pepper’s thrusting is slow and gentle, and her hands are loose on his head, almost cradling, and her eyes are wide and dark as she watches him suck her. James can feel her ass and hips--she’s small, but she’s strong, and he’s looking forward to that once they get going--flexing under his hands, and his cock is leaking and slick. The harness lets the dildo ride low enough that its flared base can press on her clit if she gets the angle right, and he thinks it might only take a stiff breeze to set them both off like a pair of rockets, and it only takes a few minutes before she swallows hard and points to the bed.
He pulls off and grins at her, and she suddenly laughs and covers her face. He gets to his feet, pulls her close, and kisses her knuckles.
“This was a good idea,” he says thickly. She snorts and looks him over, then licks her lips when she sees how hard he is. “How do you want me?”
“Hands and knees,” she tells him, and her voice is almost as rough as his.
She rolls a condom over the dildo and fusses with the lube while James makes himself comfortable. He hears the snap of a glove and thinks that Pepper being so damn thorough about everything is the reason he can agree to things like this without really thinking about them beyond whether or not he wants it. If she’s asking, she knows she wants it and she’s as prepared for a yes as she is for a no. The mattress shifts under his shins when she kneels behind him and nudges his thighs apart, and then there’s her hand on his ass and a gentle pressure at his entrance. She strokes and teases for what seems like an eternity, slicking him generously and letting him relax.
“Ready?” she asks.
“Yeah,” he manages, and he barely recognizes his own voice. He’s beyond ready. He needs it, and his cock throbs when she slides in the first finger. She gives him a second to adjust and kneads his hip, distracting him, until he relaxes around her. He groans when she slips out of him and then back in a few times, adding more lube with each stroke. He feels almost too slick by the time she thinks he’s ready for another, and he’s panting with need by the time she’s got two fingers deep inside him. When she brushes his prostate, his hands dig into the mattress.
“Can we skip to the next part?” he huffs, and she laughs.
“Not a chance.” She adds a third finger, though, and the stretch is beautiful. When she starts working him open, he can feel it with every fiber of his body, and now he’s regretting not asking her to pick a bigger dildo, because he wants her to absolutely fill him up when she slides in for real. After what seems like forever, she pulls back, and after a few seconds he hears the promising sound of her taking off the glove.
When she straightens up and spreads his knees a little more, both hands curl around his hips. James swallows when something blunt settles against his hole, pressing into the muscle ever so slightly.
“Good?” she asks.
“So good,” he sighs. He can imagine her smile at that, and then she’s pushing into him and every other thought is obliterated by it as she just keeps going, penetrating to the hilt in one smooth, relentless, almost agonizingly slow thrust. Her thumbs trace gentle, comforting circles on the back of his hips. He’s panting by the time her hips are resting against his ass, and it’s not from any stretch or fullness. It’s purely the fact that it’s her doing this to him, and it’s got him so wound up that he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to stand it when she pulls out.
“Still good?” Her voice is thick, and her hands are tight on his waist, and his cock is so hard it hurts.
“This was a really good idea,” he manages, and her fingers squeeze into him tighter.
He moans when she pulls back, but she slides back in almost immediately, with that same glacial slowness that almost undid him the first time. She falls into a careful rhythm, gradually giving him more and speeding up until she’s fucking him in earnest. The friction alone is almost enough to make him come, but then she cants her hips a little and reaches forward to stroke his cock, and suddenly he’s too overwhelmed to do more than just keep breathing. He’s not quite clear on exactly when he comes, but when he starts to think again he’s fallen onto his forearms, Pepper has him by the hips, and he’s clenched so tightly around the toy that it feels big inside him. His whole body is buzzing pleasantly, and he slowly relaxes against her until she slides out of him and eases him down onto the comforter.
James sees that she’s flushed, sweaty, and breathing hard, and she barely unbuckles the harness before she collapses next to him. He trails his fingertips up her thigh.
“You want me to…?”
She swats him away and shakes her head. “Already did. Twice.”
He moves up a little until he can rest his forehead against her shoulder. Pepper’s usually like a plucked bowstring once she’s climaxed, all vibration and energy, and the quickest he’s gotten to try giving her another one is ten minutes out. James is impressed she managed to keep pounding into him through it. He thinks maybe they should strip the blanket off so they don’t have to sleep in a wet spot, but he feels like an unstrung puppet. Pepper doesn’t look any more inclined than he is to move any time soon. He kisses her, and she reaches up to cup his jaw, then kisses back.
“That was one of the hottest things I have ever done,” she says. Her eyes are drooping, and her voice is soft. He just hums in agreement, because he can’t find the energy to talk. She rolls a little closer, and he meets her halfway. He realizes he’s drifting off too late to do anything other than dimly register that he can’t remember the last time he felt this peaceful.