Fic: Armored (Iron Man movieverse)
May. 9th, 2008 10:32 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seriousficTitle: Armored
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: implied Tony/Pepper
Word Count: 695
Summary: Pepper wonders what it takes to build an Iron Man.
Pepper watched through the glass walls of the tank. The contents were shifting like the sands of an hourglass, swirling around the armor. Occasionally obscuring the scorch marks and gouges that Obadiah had left in it.
Tony’s latest tasteless monstrosity slash gee-whiz gadget was a nanotechnological assembly line, a pool of microscopic robots that restored the armor to peak specifications. Filling in the bullet holes, repairing the wires, turning the suit golden and invincible and gleaming again.
The crane hoisted the suit out, once more perfect. But knowing Tony, he would deem it unsatisfactory and start looking to upgrade it to the bleeding edge of technology to deal with the new plagiarized technological monster that came along. She ascended the wooden stepladder to get closer to it.
The armor was everything Tony wasn’t. All surface, nothing underneath. A perfect metal man. No kidney that made the doctors tsk-tsk, no heart that was weak as a kitten’s. Knowing all that, it would be a fool who fell in love with the man underneath the armor, knowing he wasn’t a hero. Not really. Just because now when he didn’t come home at night it was because some sociopath with a grudge needed to be stomped on...
She reached out and touched the armor. The helmet looked like it was scowling at her. But the armor was good and thick. It would have to be, to protect him. Because he was fragile. He didn’t have Obadiah to rely. Soon, he might not even have Rhodes, if the military had their way. He might have to rely entirely on her. And Pepper didn’t know if she’d be enough.
Her hand trailed down the chestplate, trying to find a remnant of a bullet hole or a shrapnel hit, something that would commemorate how close Tony had come to death. But all she found was metal, cold and rigid. No give. Like the implant that broke up the contours of his chest, took that athletic physique and marred it like a black splotch in the middle of a Bierstadt painting.
At first, she’d thought Iron Man was another flavor of the week. Superhero du jour. Tony developed lifelong fixations on a dime. He built his home in Malibu when he was determined to be a champion surfer, spent a month in college determined to be the world’s best bartender. He would probably make the world’s worst monogamist if he ever tried, getting wrapped up in the mysteries and pleasures of a second woman just as he settled down with the first. There’d been that sweetheart in high school, the pre-nup deal in college, but since then it’d been one-night stands and publicity-friendly flings waged across exotic beaches and extravagant premieres.
It was only a flicker of patriotism that kept him coming back to weapons, time and again, and now that was… emboldened. Incorporated into this new, more direct obsession. Pepper had been a fool to think he’d give this up. Coming out to the press had just been dotting the last I. Who ever heard of a superhero retiring? Spider-Man had made it, what, a week after the “Spider-Man No More!” headline before he swung back into action to save that redhead actress?
Pepper ran a hand through her own strawberry-blonde hair. At least he had taste. Not that Tony didn’t have taste, but Christine Everhart? Pepper shook her head, and saw her reflection do the same in the cherry-red chassis. She gave the thing a good rattle with her knuckles. It was thick. It was tough. It would have to be.
“Little sexy, isn’t it?” Tony, with that insistent little-boy charm in his voice as he came down the stairs into his workshop. He was still working off a series of winces that would give a lifelong boxer pause, his body paying him back with interest for the pummeling it had taken through the armor. Unlike Iron Man, Tony Stark couldn’t be rejuvenated by a couple billion nanobots. “It’s okay. Girls go crazy for a sharp-dressed man, or so I’m told.”
She gave him her customary smirk. “It’s red. My favorite color.”
He returned it. “How ‘bout that, Miss Potts.”
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: implied Tony/Pepper
Word Count: 695
Summary: Pepper wonders what it takes to build an Iron Man.
Pepper watched through the glass walls of the tank. The contents were shifting like the sands of an hourglass, swirling around the armor. Occasionally obscuring the scorch marks and gouges that Obadiah had left in it.
Tony’s latest tasteless monstrosity slash gee-whiz gadget was a nanotechnological assembly line, a pool of microscopic robots that restored the armor to peak specifications. Filling in the bullet holes, repairing the wires, turning the suit golden and invincible and gleaming again.
The crane hoisted the suit out, once more perfect. But knowing Tony, he would deem it unsatisfactory and start looking to upgrade it to the bleeding edge of technology to deal with the new plagiarized technological monster that came along. She ascended the wooden stepladder to get closer to it.
The armor was everything Tony wasn’t. All surface, nothing underneath. A perfect metal man. No kidney that made the doctors tsk-tsk, no heart that was weak as a kitten’s. Knowing all that, it would be a fool who fell in love with the man underneath the armor, knowing he wasn’t a hero. Not really. Just because now when he didn’t come home at night it was because some sociopath with a grudge needed to be stomped on...
She reached out and touched the armor. The helmet looked like it was scowling at her. But the armor was good and thick. It would have to be, to protect him. Because he was fragile. He didn’t have Obadiah to rely. Soon, he might not even have Rhodes, if the military had their way. He might have to rely entirely on her. And Pepper didn’t know if she’d be enough.
Her hand trailed down the chestplate, trying to find a remnant of a bullet hole or a shrapnel hit, something that would commemorate how close Tony had come to death. But all she found was metal, cold and rigid. No give. Like the implant that broke up the contours of his chest, took that athletic physique and marred it like a black splotch in the middle of a Bierstadt painting.
At first, she’d thought Iron Man was another flavor of the week. Superhero du jour. Tony developed lifelong fixations on a dime. He built his home in Malibu when he was determined to be a champion surfer, spent a month in college determined to be the world’s best bartender. He would probably make the world’s worst monogamist if he ever tried, getting wrapped up in the mysteries and pleasures of a second woman just as he settled down with the first. There’d been that sweetheart in high school, the pre-nup deal in college, but since then it’d been one-night stands and publicity-friendly flings waged across exotic beaches and extravagant premieres.
It was only a flicker of patriotism that kept him coming back to weapons, time and again, and now that was… emboldened. Incorporated into this new, more direct obsession. Pepper had been a fool to think he’d give this up. Coming out to the press had just been dotting the last I. Who ever heard of a superhero retiring? Spider-Man had made it, what, a week after the “Spider-Man No More!” headline before he swung back into action to save that redhead actress?
Pepper ran a hand through her own strawberry-blonde hair. At least he had taste. Not that Tony didn’t have taste, but Christine Everhart? Pepper shook her head, and saw her reflection do the same in the cherry-red chassis. She gave the thing a good rattle with her knuckles. It was thick. It was tough. It would have to be.
“Little sexy, isn’t it?” Tony, with that insistent little-boy charm in his voice as he came down the stairs into his workshop. He was still working off a series of winces that would give a lifelong boxer pause, his body paying him back with interest for the pummeling it had taken through the armor. Unlike Iron Man, Tony Stark couldn’t be rejuvenated by a couple billion nanobots. “It’s okay. Girls go crazy for a sharp-dressed man, or so I’m told.”
She gave him her customary smirk. “It’s red. My favorite color.”
He returned it. “How ‘bout that, Miss Potts.”
