"I can see what it says," Pepper said for the third time, "and it's a very nice replication of the invitation, yes, but I know the guest list inside-out and there is no Martha Jones on it, let alone a Martha Jones plus one."
The young woman pressed her lips together and shot a look at her companion. "Well?"
He shrugged, hands in the pockets of his trousers, and leaned forward. "S'funny, usually just showing the paper's enough. I don't suppose you know if you're psychically retardant? No?"
"Excuse me?" Pepper drew herself up, and was about to signal security to lead them outside when Tony appeared at her shoulder.
"Look, Potts, you promised me a dance and if you don't deliver soon then I will insist on it being the macarena. Oh. Is something wrong?" He slid effortlessly into friendly, professional concern, and the tall man with the untidy hair broke into a wide grin that made him look even more British.
"Look at that! Tony Stark himself! Pleasure to meet you, I'm the Doctor, and this is Martha Jones."
Martha lifted one hand in a slightly embarrassed wave, and Tony shook hands with the Doctor -- somehow, Pepper thought, the capital D was audible. When the handshake broke the two men stood looking at each other for a while, their postures almost mirror-images of insoucient charm, and Pepper realised that there was no way Tony would be turning these two away now. Sure enough --
"Potts," he said, waving two fingers carelessly. "I'd like some champagne."
Pepper knew exactly how this worked. She folded her hands in front of her. "Of course, sir," she said with her most graceful smile.
The Doctor's face settled into something bright and challenging. "Martha...?" He didn't sound too certain, though, and with good reason. Martha put her hands on her hips, displacing a couple of sequins.
"We're at a party. Being your maid once was quite enough -- I'm not about to go all Taming of the Shrew just because you've decided to get into a pissing contest. And yes. I'd like some champagne, thanks."
"Ah." He scratched his head. "Well, all right then. Two champagnes for us, please, Miss Potts."
"Certainly."
When Pepper returned with the drinks, Martha Jones gave her a look that very clearly said she considered her a traitor to the sisterhood, but Tony gave her a look that sparkled with mischief.
"You know," she murmured as she passed him his drink, "I should have left you standing here. Waiting. It would have served you right."
Tony slid his arm around her waist, pulled the empty tray from her hands and handed it to a passing waiter, and beamed at their gatecrashers. "Enjoy the party."
"Oh, we will. I love the macarena." The Doctor beamed back and the two of them melted into the crowd, and Tony laughed and tugged her closer.
"Very nice, Katarina -- what? Don't look so surprised, Potts, I'll have you know I sat through that whole play."
She raised an eyebrow. "Anything to help you win a pissing contest, Mr Stark."
"Hey." Tony released her and stepped to face her, his expression dropping from levity, his voice concerned. "You know I -- I don't think of you as -- you know what I'm saying, right?" His hand rested gently on her upper arm, and they were surrounded by beautiful people saying fascinating things, and Tony was looking at her like they were alone on that desert island. "All that lord and master bullshit, you know --"
"I know." She smiled and reached up to adjust the crease of his collar. "And I believe you'll be paying me overtime, this being a Saturday night."
"You know, I really should hire a personal assistant less demanding than you, Potts."
"You could hire fifty," she said, and let her hands rest on his chest, her index finger just brushing the edge of metal under his shirt. "You'd still be worse off."
Tony laughed and lifted his free hand to squeeze one of hers, and then the mischief flew back all at once, the familiar I've-had-a-great-idea glow suffusing his face. Pepper's heart sank.
"No, Tony," she pleaded, "it’s been a nice evening, don't, don't say it --"
He ignored her. He grinned. "Kiss me, Kate!"
Pepper smiled sweetly and upended his champagne onto his shoes.
how about both?
The young woman pressed her lips together and shot a look at her companion. "Well?"
He shrugged, hands in the pockets of his trousers, and leaned forward. "S'funny, usually just showing the paper's enough. I don't suppose you know if you're psychically retardant? No?"
"Excuse me?" Pepper drew herself up, and was about to signal security to lead them outside when Tony appeared at her shoulder.
"Look, Potts, you promised me a dance and if you don't deliver soon then I will insist on it being the macarena. Oh. Is something wrong?" He slid effortlessly into friendly, professional concern, and the tall man with the untidy hair broke into a wide grin that made him look even more British.
"Look at that! Tony Stark himself! Pleasure to meet you, I'm the Doctor, and this is Martha Jones."
Martha lifted one hand in a slightly embarrassed wave, and Tony shook hands with the Doctor -- somehow, Pepper thought, the capital D was audible. When the handshake broke the two men stood looking at each other for a while, their postures almost mirror-images of insoucient charm, and Pepper realised that there was no way Tony would be turning these two away now. Sure enough --
"Potts," he said, waving two fingers carelessly. "I'd like some champagne."
Pepper knew exactly how this worked. She folded her hands in front of her. "Of course, sir," she said with her most graceful smile.
The Doctor's face settled into something bright and challenging. "Martha...?" He didn't sound too certain, though, and with good reason. Martha put her hands on her hips, displacing a couple of sequins.
"We're at a party. Being your maid once was quite enough -- I'm not about to go all Taming of the Shrew just because you've decided to get into a pissing contest. And yes. I'd like some champagne, thanks."
"Ah." He scratched his head. "Well, all right then. Two champagnes for us, please, Miss Potts."
"Certainly."
When Pepper returned with the drinks, Martha Jones gave her a look that very clearly said she considered her a traitor to the sisterhood, but Tony gave her a look that sparkled with mischief.
"You know," she murmured as she passed him his drink, "I should have left you standing here. Waiting. It would have served you right."
Tony slid his arm around her waist, pulled the empty tray from her hands and handed it to a passing waiter, and beamed at their gatecrashers. "Enjoy the party."
"Oh, we will. I love the macarena." The Doctor beamed back and the two of them melted into the crowd, and Tony laughed and tugged her closer.
"Very nice, Katarina -- what? Don't look so surprised, Potts, I'll have you know I sat through that whole play."
She raised an eyebrow. "Anything to help you win a pissing contest, Mr Stark."
"Hey." Tony released her and stepped to face her, his expression dropping from levity, his voice concerned. "You know I -- I don't think of you as -- you know what I'm saying, right?" His hand rested gently on her upper arm, and they were surrounded by beautiful people saying fascinating things, and Tony was looking at her like they were alone on that desert island. "All that lord and master bullshit, you know --"
"I know." She smiled and reached up to adjust the crease of his collar. "And I believe you'll be paying me overtime, this being a Saturday night."
"You know, I really should hire a personal assistant less demanding than you, Potts."
"You could hire fifty," she said, and let her hands rest on his chest, her index finger just brushing the edge of metal under his shirt. "You'd still be worse off."
Tony laughed and lifted his free hand to squeeze one of hers, and then the mischief flew back all at once, the familiar I've-had-a-great-idea glow suffusing his face. Pepper's heart sank.
"No, Tony," she pleaded, "it’s been a nice evening, don't, don't say it --"
He ignored her. He grinned. "Kiss me, Kate!"
Pepper smiled sweetly and upended his champagne onto his shoes.