Chapter 14
Pepper is all of Sakura’s politeness and bedside manner. Pepper is pantsuits and dresses and tall shoes and hair pulled back carefully, or arranged perfectly, and all of her is never even slightly disheveled.
If there was one word to describe Pepper Potts, one would be torn between using ‘competent’ or ‘professional’.
She nods decisively and smiles demurely. She walks calmly and collectedly to every destination perfectly on time. Everything she does is precise, measured, and with complete control of her body.
So when Tony walks into his modified workshop to find her there, one foot up on the bench and both hands lacing up her boots, he stops. Stares. Is everything but speechless.
“Aaaaaand I’ll have to call you back, Rhodes—no, no, it’s very important, can’t miss it, what was that? I’m going through a tunnel.” He hangs up the phone without looking away from her, eyes assessing. He squints, moves further into the room, and walks around her.
This is the curiosity that lead to countless inventions.
She glances over her shoulder at him without straightening up, smiles.
“So, Pep. You’re here. Why? Yet to be determined. No, no, I’ll figure out. Just give me… a minute…” He eyes her intently as he fiddles with half-finished robotics on the desks. “Ah! I’ve got it. Someone from HR went too far. I’ll get the suit, we’ll take him down together. No, wait, you wouldn’t be putting on Kevlar for internal relations; if you can deal with me not signing form A line seven for X amount of time, nobody else can push you to violence. I’m the epitome of procrastinating work in favor of real-work. The King, if you will.”
He popped a grape into his mouth from some stash or another.
“Oooh,” He pointed. “I know, I know exactly what this is. You’re getting back at me for something. I’ve done something wrong, I just know it. The task now is to figure it out.”
Another grape.
“I missed an anniversary of something?”
Pepper smiled in real amusement and fondness, moving from boot to thigh to fasten clever straps.
“It’s got to be something big if you’re using the under-Suit armor. I wear that under my usual suits, did you know? Suits, not Suit-Suits. And designed it, of course. The very best. I can’t think of why you’d need it but not me. Are you going somewhere dangerous? Dangerous enough that you need military-grade—
“Well, the military wishes they had prototype-Stark-grade armor, actually—“
“We should really get on that, where’s my copyright team? I’ll make a note. ‘Military-grade’ just won’t do as a term anymore. Mm, not really the top-ranked in the hierarchy of quality anymore. What do you think, Pep, Stark-grade? We should coin it. I’m coining it.”
He tapped away lightning-quick on the tablet in his hands.
“Coined.”
Pepper straightened, drug her hair up into a high, tight, efficient tail. For a moment, her forehead felt empty. Her smile turned a bit wry, then fell as she focused.
“We’re going to Asgard.” She said succinctly.
“Right, of course, Asgard. I’ll get the Suit—wait.” She watched him ramble before visually registering what she said. It’s hard to maintain anything but a grin whenever he’s so ready to get her wherever she wants to go, no questions asked.
His loyalty is a powerful thing.
Electric blue eyes regarded her cautiously and curiously, up and down. She was indeed dressed in the long sleeved, knife and bullet and fire proof polymer. It was a bodysuit that hugged her curves from throat to wrists to ankle. Over it at the feet, the ultra-light weight and nigh indestructible combat boots.
Over her torso, a thick black vest. Pads and plates blended near-seamlessly with the mesh. It resembled a familiar suit of armor with every dimension reduced for flexibility. Made of the not-plastic he’d invented they slid under each other like scales. It weighed next-to-nothing and restricted her movements even less.
Still, she took the time to test her movements carefully. The slightest change to her reach or balance could be disastrous when fighting against gods and immortals.
Strapped to her thighs and the various, interlocking defenses, an array of combat knives weighted for throwing. This particular set was obviously for Natasha because the balance was perfect. She didn’t recognize the alloy of the metal.
While Tony was actually struck speechless, she moved each limb a little, testing the new attire and how it moved with her. The gloves were Natasha’s as well, she thought, as she pulled them on. They were almost leather, soft to the touch. No doubt she’d have to use a chakra scalpel to cut through whatever special synthesized molecule thing it was actually made out of.
The plates, silver and gleaming on the knuckles, were probably meant to be painted later. That was alright. She’d take them as-is.
Pepper pulled a little on the edge of the second glove and tightened her fist, memorizing the feel. It was a familiar pose.
Privately, she wanted to fly through the air and punch something or someone hard enough to make mountains on the other side of the globe—whichever globe she happened to be on—sit up and take notice.
Her muscles were carefully relaxed but wanted to tense up with manic energy. She was so beyond ready to see some action. If it was in defense of one of her boys, then, well, all the better.
It would hardly be the first time Sasuke was internationally-wanted and stuck in a jail cell by the people he’d managed to betray.
Perhaps they deserved it this go-around, as well.
Pepper, unlike Sakura, grew up with an average knowledge of the cultures and myths and religions across the world. History and literature classes in college supplied the basics. Knowing her most important person was on a team of super powered monsters, aliens, and spies was enough to prompt her to learn the rest re: Norse legends.
Thor and Loki existed. Thor called down thunder and wielded a magic hammer. Sasuke was Loki and the thought of any of those myths being true—Tony’s files said he was really an ice giant instead of Aesir, so the familial lies and judgement were likely, at the very least—made her spitting mad.
(A small part of her was scared, horrified for him, true, but most of it was overshadowed by a far-reaching and blazing fury.)
Beyond that, the creeping suspicion that she’d garnered as she went over literally every available scrap of information from SHIELD, Tony, and JARVIS made her want to retch a little.
Her horror and rage had given way—more overflowed into—a simmering, righteous fire of wrath and determination.
She’s not a scared-little girl anymore. Hasn’t been for a while now, actually.
Tony picked his jaw up off the ground, moved it a little while obviously trying and failing to come up with anything to say—index finger curling and uncurling as he started to make a definite point and decided against it last second—and finally clamped his mouth shut.
“Okay.” He said.
“Okay?” She questioned, faintly incredulous.
“I’ll get the suit.” He repeated and walked off with a purpose. There was the quality to his steps that spoke of action and agency. Most everyone in the building would recognize the determined glint in his eyes and move the hell out of the way.
Fortunately, he didn’t have to go through the building.
The suits were right there.
Tony brushed hands over the pieces of armor at one of the work stations and they sprang to life, even as he looked up and met her gaze. The Mark IX, newly built, flew piece by piece—nearly smacking him a few times, but his eyes didn’t leave hers until they glowed white-blue through a metal mask.
“Let’s do it.”
She grinned, fierce and so ready.
All of the Avengers had their own floor in the tower. Tony followed her into the elevator and she put in the code for Thor’s.
Team Seven belonged together.