Impress Me

He called it “taking a break” when Pepper had packed her things for an impromtu and long-overdue trip to anywhere with a WiFi signal. They decided to keep the break-up under wraps to cause less ripples in an already undulating business. She could still conduct work calls and meetings as CEO while not having to hear his voice filter down the hall or have him “accidentally” send a bouquet to her office.

Again.

For the last few months, Pepper had trained you to fill in for whenever she might take a week off. The job was fairly simple since she still managed the heavier portions from her computer abroad: you scheduled her teleconferences, oversaw supply chain production goals, and managed any new damage control or PR concerns in quick order before moving them along toward her.

That was right before Scarlet Witch accidentally caused an international incident in Lagos, Nigeria.

While Potts handled the widespread aftermath and financial responsibilities, Tony pretended not to spiral. The MIT presentation had distracted 23% of his bandwidth, just enough to stop thinking so damn much about Pepper and how the team was a sitting duck for government inquiry. Then, he’d learned about someone who hadn’t made it out of Sokovia and, well…

He was fraying.

He’d avoided you as much as was possible since Potts had taken her “trip”; something about seeing anyone who wasn’t Pepper

His Pepper

Sitting in that office just felt very wrong. Like having the Iron Man suit in pastels or shaving off his goatee.

If he did manage to talk to you, it was while looking at a holographic or typing fervently on tablet and in one word sentences. Generally, he communicated via texts or through F.R.I.D.A.Y., whichever seemed most emotionally distant at the time.

After several days of this odd dynamic, today was different.

Knock, knock

Hey, Proxy Potts, he began, frowning down at the tablet in his hands as he leaned against the office doorway any word yet on that next shipment of high-voltage Wakandan circuitry? Oh, and also, when do you get back to just being her secretary? I’m kind of over this whole set up.

The morning had promised to be smoother, at first. Smoother than any you’d had so far as the Proxy Potts of the tower. You’d gotten a better feel for how these meetings went, albeit the tension between the Avengers after Lagos still took getting used to. There were a lot of unresolved moving parts to that and you were just here to facilitate business operations in tandem with giving Ms. Potts a personal opinion on how the team, as a whole, was doing.

While it was an amazing opportunity, it was a stressful job. You needed a bit of a break.

You found that break when some guy named Impala67 matched with you a few nights ago and it had been going very well.

Apparently, the picture you’d meant to send along with the vivid description of how lucky he could get tonight hadn’t gone through when you tried to send it earlier. Annoyed and in the middle of the morning meeting, you tried to send the picture again, not realizing that you’d added something to the “Send To” textbox. The message sent immediately this time.

Did…Did you just…Was that text to the guy you were seeing tonight or to—

Every phone around the Conference Room table pinged. Each phone belonged to an Avenger. Steve paused his presentation, assuming it was a group text for some inbound trouble. Tony stopped trying to stay awake by petulantly flicking through holographics on his tablet. Natasha simply glanced at her screen and unlocked it, her phone already on the table near her tapping fingers. Clint checked his phone, hoping it was a mission so he could get out of this room. Wanda reached into her pocket as Vision blinked at the message now popping up in his field of view like an overlay.

And now each Avenger had opened the work group chat to see you, the temp CEO in Potts’ “extended trip abroad” in a sundress that was both hiked down and up enough for it to need an age-restricted rating.

OH, HEY, Delete that..! I didn’t— You scrambled on your phone to unsend the message but it was too late. You wanted to sink into the floor and then somehow keep going just as someone clear their throat.

You chewed your cheek, shaking your head as the elevator climbed up to the 75th floor. Between dodging a senator’s calls for a premature guarantee of long-term confinement for “certain super-abled people” and managing a shipping miscalculation from Taiwan, you had gotten to your front door before realize your phone was no where to be found. After a long string of expletives could have put Rogers back on his heels, you returned to the tower.

The elevator doors opened to an eerily quiet floor. The only staff who took care of the administrative floors were gone by now and the silence was unsettling in a place that usually bustled with anxious energy.

Then you heard it. The sound of glass lazily colliding with wood. You noticed that a sliver of the sunset outside was shining through your half-open office door. The one you were certain you’d closed and locked before you’d left for the day. A cold sweat crept down your neck as you silently walk toward the door. It could be a cleaning person taking their time—no harm in that. Maybe…maybe Pepper had come back early without telling anyone. You grimaced at that, knowing it held about as much water as vibranium sieve. A pang of fear vibrated down your arms. Or it was someone who had an interest in the CEO’s documents outside of business hours. This was a building filled with AI security and super heroes, what idiot would try to rob or infiltrate a place like this? You crept closer until you reached the doorway, glancing at a glass pane opposite the desk. The sunset outline someone sitting in the desk chair holding what looked to be a glass in their hand. A liquor bottle stood on the desk next to them. This seemed less like a heist and more like a pensive tableau. Then you heard a sigh.

You. The voice came with a frown, an edge of challenge making Tony’s eyes light up. He leaned on the office doorway like he owned it because, well, he did. Just who I wanted to find. Not that it’s difficult since you seem to keep to this lair. He stepped into the office, leaving the door open a crack. You know, you’ve been in this office longer than I’ve had patience for most of my world-saving projects and yet you still haven’t seemed to find any niche or flow. He walked toward one of the floor-to-ceiling windows, hands in his pockets as his voice lilted petulantly. Call me conceited, it’s been said before, but I would have assumed someone in your…position would have tried harder to be memorable. To make an impression. He shrugs, still staring at the skyline. So what’s it like? Being utterly forgettable in a building of timeless individuals? He finally turns to you, clearly stifling a smirk. The glint in his eye betrays him, though. You’ve seen the threat annoyance brings to his eyes. This is different. Your performance review is coming up soon. I’ll be conducting it, given your boss’s— he wafts his hand in the air dismissively—absence. It should probably be soon. Preferably over a glass of over-priced bourbon. He crosses his arms and leans against one of the walls When would you like to schedule that?