Who: Frank Castle & Pepper Potts When: June 29th Where: Pepper's condo What: Have dinner. And a little more. (Continued from here)
She chose to ignore the comment about the money. True, it was expensive, but that was because Pepper worked her butt off every day and was paid handsomely for it. Unfortunately, since she had no time for anything, her money went into possessions. The only reason the couch looked so new was because it'd hardly been used.
"Wouldn't you like a tour first?" He was uncomfortable but she found it a bit endearing. Not only that, but he seemed to have some sort of an opinion of her that she didn't' know if she deserved. She'd worked hard to get to this level of comfort.
"Sure," he answered, mildly relieved by the suggestion. It had been so long since he'd been in a regular home that a tour might do him good. He shrugged off his heavy canvas trenchcoat, holding it awkwardly as he looked for a place to set it down. "Do you have a coat rack or something? This thing gets kinda hot..."
Smiling, she reached for it and put it in the foyer closet. "Follow me," she said, quietly walking away from him. "As you know, this is the living room. and over here," she said, walking down a brief hallway, and opening a door, "is where the bathroom slash laundry room is. At the end of this hall is my bedroom."
Motioning him back towards the living room, she walked with up a small flight of stairs which lead into a kitchen. "Now, please don't ask me why my kitchen is upstairs or why stairs go into it. It was like this when I bought it, and I have to admit, it was kind of a selling feature," she whispered conspiratorially. There was a sliding door attached to the kitchen and she opened it. "Here's another reason why I parted with my hard-earned money." The view off her patio was breath-taking, and with the sun setting, the sky was lit up with oranges and reds, mirroring onto the beach.
Frank raised his eyebrows and whistled low. It wasn't often that he got to see the beautiful side of the city, and he'd nearly forgotten that it even existed. But, he thought, if he had to see it again, he couldn't have picked a nicer spot, or nicer company. Smiling slightly, he glanced over at Pepper. It was hard to believe that there was still a woman in the world capable of making him make a fool of himself, but she was certainly that woman.
"Nice place," he said, cheerfully ineloquent, arms folded across his broad chest. He couldn't really think of anything to say. As far as he was concerned, the fact that there weren't guns and explosives tucked into every available corner made it a lovely, quaint sort of place.
She laughed. "Yes, I suppose nice is a good way of describing it. I'm so busy with work that when I do get some free time, I like to make sure it's as relaxing as possible."
She walked back into the house, leaving the door open for the breeze. "So, Mr. Castle, I believe as the guest, you have the say in what we eat tonight."
He looked mildly surprised for a moment, then went to the fridge and tugged it open. "Oh god, I don't know, honey. I'll eat just about anything you put in front of me." He scanned the contents of the fridge, then moved to the freezer. "It's been a while since I had chicken..."
In truth, it had been a while since he'd had much of anything other than MREs, but he wasn't about to tell her that. He found them a perfectly serviceable meal, but most other people thought that they were either creepy or depressing or both. He was content with letting Pepper think he just ate a lot of sandwiches or something.
"Chicken it is," she said, reaching around him into the freezer. Pulling out the chicken breasts, she grabbed a plate and set the meat on it. She set the microwave on defrost and turned back towards the fridge. "Are you the kind of man that will eat salad, or do you believe potatoes suffice?"
"Potatoes are fine," Frank answered, sitting gingerly in one of the pretty little chairs clustered around a small table. He felt like if he shifted wrong it would snap like kindling, so he was very careful to sit very still. "I haven't had salad since--"
He cut himself off, snapping his jaw shut so hard that his teeth clicked together. He'd been about to say 'since my wife made me eat it', but he didn't want to talk about Maria, and he was sure that Pepper didn't want to hear about her. "I haven't had salad for a long time," he amended, blue eyes hard and bright.
He was hiding something, she could tell but the look in his eyes prevented her from asking. Putting on a smile, she reached under the sink and pulled out some potatoes. "Then potatoes it is."
Organizing herself, she began to peel the potatoes, half leaning towards the counter, half leaning towards him. "So Mr. Castle, what's your story? From your tone of voice earlier, I can only assume you know of me, but I'm afraid I don't know much about you other than your S.H.I.E.L.D. involvement. Care to fill me in?"
Oh God, here it went. He'd tell her a few things, she'd get scared, she'd kick him out. Frank sighed and scratched the back of his hand. He wasn't used to explaining himself, but Pepper deserved something.
"I... well, I guess at S.H.I.E.L.D. they call me a vigilante. It's a fair enough name. I hunt down men and women who break the law, violent offenders, murderers, rapists, drug dealers, members of the mob." He paused, cleared his throat. This was all so simplified. It made him sound like a crazy person. "I don't trust the court system, or the cops. So I handle things myself."
She nodded. "Kind of like Mr. Stark," she said, finishing up with her potatoes. "I mean, not exactly because I guess he's been, oh what's the word, endorsed, by S.H.I.E.L.D. But he basically does the same thing. Saves the day. Thinks he's above the law. You know." She was talking way too honestly, but she felt comfortable why not.
Finishing the potatoes, she reached on the counter and pulled out a bottle of red wine. "Now, I don't know about you, but when I cook, I drink. No comments about the suppressed alcoholism. Would you like a glass?"
Frank raised his eyebrows, surprised. She'd... taken that incredibly well. Of course, he hadn't mentioned that his idea of 'handling' things was putting a bullet through the brain of the offender, but that wasn't exactly table talk.
"Yeah, sure," he said, accepting a glass from her. It had been a while since he'd had wine as well, and he sipped it carefully. Pepper bought the good stuff, but he wasn't really surprised by that. "Thanks. You really don't have to do all this..."
"Of course I do. It's the polite thing to do after someone interrupts their day to help a, who they thought was, a complete and utter stranger." Pouring herself a glass, she took a sip. She loved that warm feeling, after such a long, hard day.
Going out on the patio briefly, she set the grill on, and came back into the kitchen. The chicken was almost defrosted so she set about cutting the potatoes and seasoning them. "I really hope you like this. I only ever cook for myself or Tony and really, he wouldn't even notice if I gave him a piece of tire as a meal. He'd eat it, and get right back into his workshop."
"Then he's an idiot," Frank said. It wasn't much of a stretch for him to call Stark names; the two of them had never really seen eye to eye on matters and held one another in mutual loathing. But his opinion of the man went down even further as a result of Pepper's off-hand remark.
"Do you need help with anything? I'm not a terrible cook..."
Shaking her head, she took another sip - okay more like gulp - of her wine. "No, please. Again, you're my guest. It wouldn't be right to ask you to do this."
Turning, she leaned on the counter, and gave him a goofy grin. "Is it really that hard for you, to just sit back and let someone take care of you? Trust me, I do this every day for Mr. Stark, I'm sure I can do it right now."
"I'm not a helpless twit like Stark," Frank answered. It had occurred to him that he should lay off Stark. Pepper was obviously a loyal employee and he didn't want to piss her off or anything. But it was hard to resist taking shots at the guy. He was just so fucking smug!
"Sorry," he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "I'm not used to polite company. And your boss kinda rubs me the wrong way."
She smiled understandingly. "Lots of people seem to find he grates on their nerves. I understand that I'm the first assistant in almost ten years that has lasted long enough for a three month-review."
She'd learned a long time ago that Tony's battles were his own, and it just wasn't worth the energy to do much else other than portray herself as positively as she could. She'd gained back quite a few estranged business contacts that way.
"You are a rare woman," Frank said, and his tone was entirely admiring. He had never met a woman who was so cool, so collected. Even besides being lovely, she was soothing to be around. Strange. "He doesn't know how good he has it.
She snorted. "Whatever," she said, with a light tone. Pouring herself another glass, she offered him the bottle. "He's my friend, you know? Not just my boss, but," her thought was interrupted by the sound of the microwave. She pulled the chicken out, and started to season them as well. If she'd known this was going to happen, she'd have marinated them this morning, but he looked he wouldn't care what the tasted like.
Stepping out on the patio again, she put the chicken down, set the heat and walked back in. The potatoes were on the grill as well, the chicken was done, so she sat down across from him and stretched her legs onto the chair next to him.
"I don't remember what I was talking about," she admitted.
"Stark," Frank answered, reaching out and tweaking one of her toes. Maybe it was a little bit forward, but she didn't look like she'd mind all that much. "But let's change the subject. I don't like him, he doesn't like me. We'll just leave it at that." Honestly, he would have listened to her talk about anything. It was rare that he got to be around an intelligent, articulate person who wasn't lecturing him about what he chose to do with his life.
Wrinkling her nose, she pulled her toe away. "Don't, that tickles." Brushing her hair out of her face, she took another drink of her wine. It was starting to go to her head and she was reminded that she hadn't had anything decent to eat in at least two days. No wonder she was feeling it now.
"Well, what would you like to talk about. New rule: guest picks the conversation topic."
"We could talk about you being ticklish," Frank laughed, pleased by the little revelation. She really didn't seem like the kind of person that would respond to having her foot tickled, but then again, she didn't seem like the kind of person who would invite strangers back to her nice apartment for dinner.
"How about you just tell me about yourself," he suggested. "How'd you end up working for Stark?"
"Well. I suppose the first thing to say is, my name? It's not Pepper. It's Virginia." She enunciated the name, showing how much she disliked it. "I really can't even remember how I got that name. I must've been, what, four?" She tried to remember. "I dunno, I guess my parents had a grocery store when I was really young, and for some reason, I decided to climb into the bulk pepper. Did you know you can actually cause a nosebleed from sneezing so much?" She shuddered at the memory. "Anyways, since then, I've been called Pepper."
"As for working with Tony, I just applied. Nothing spectacular. I shot him down at the interview, he found it amusing and hired me on the spot."
Frank snorted and shook his head. She certainly was an interesting girl. "Pepper suits you better," he said, leaning back in his chair. The chicken was beginning to cook and it smelled incredible, and suddenly he wasn't quite so irritated with himself for accepting her invitation. "All right, your turn to pick a subject..."
"Yeah, only my mother gets away with calling me Virginia." Thinking for a moment, she pulled a blank. She was always so prepared for anything, and this whole mysterious stranger thing was amusing to her. "Okay. I guess I should be asking more about yourself? Or, at least the skull on your t-shirt," she said, pointing at it.
"The skull?" Frank glanced down at his shirt and snorted softly. "You wanna know a secret about this skull?" He leaned forward, propping his arms on the table and arching his eyebrows. "You gotta swear to never tell anyone this, okay?" He waited until she nodded, then continued.
"At first, all I had was a black shirt. It wasn't very... intimidating. So I got some silver tape and taped a skull onto it." He glanced down at the shirt and snorted softly. "I've refined the design a bit since then. That first one was ugly as fuck."
She laughed so hard she almost fell off her chair. "Duct tape? Seriously? Oh, that is made of WIN, Mr. Castle." And then she remembered he was being serious.
"Um, I mean, wow. That's intense. Black shirts can be intimidating though but a skull. Brilliant idea." Was this her third or fourth glass by now? She noticed he'd been drinking his very slowly, but she couldn't help herself. She hadn't been this relaxed in ages.
Jumping up, she excused herself. The food was done, and plating it she brought the plates to the table. "All done! Enjoy."
"Thank you," he answered, smiling as he cut into his chicken. It was perfectly cooked and tasted incredible, and he was silent for several minutes as he devoured it like wolves would come steal it if he didn't eat quick enough. With the chicken vanished, he slowed down enough to talk between bites of potatoes.
"It's okay if you laugh at me," he offered, glancing up at Pepper and winking. "I come off as kinda ridiculous when you put me in a nice kitchen and set food in front of me."
She giggled as she shook her head. She'd barely touched her own food, as she was finding that she was no longer as hungry as she thought. Probably that bottle of wine, she thought. Her current glass had emptied it, and she was sitting there debating opening another.
"No, it's nice. I like seeing someone enjoy something I've mad. Though," she picked up a napkin and leaned over the table, "you do have something...here." She dabbed his face until the mark was gone, and leaned back to her spot. "All gone."
Frank stared at her for a second, shocked into motionlessness. When was the last time he'd had someone do that? Christ, not even his wife had tried that with him, respecting his masculinity a little bit more than that. Part of him was irritated with Pepper for treating him like a kid, and part of him was just... weirdly pleased that she felt comfortable enough to wipe his fucking face for him.
It's the wine, Frank, he told himself, downing the rest of his wine in one big gulp. She's had a little too much to drink, that's all. For some reason, that rationalization disappointed him, which in turn told him that it was probably time for him to leave. "I should go," he announced, starting to stand up.
"I scared you, didn't I?" She stood up hurriedly, a frown across her brow.
"Oh don't go, please. I've really enjoyed your conversation and you haven't even finished eating and for once I'm not talking about work and I have no idea what I'm doing here, but I'm enjoying myself, did I already say that? And now I'm rambling. Oh god."
She bit her bottom lip and tried to steady her thoughts. "Frank," she said, "please stay."
He studied her for a second, unsure of what to say. It wasn't just that she'd wiped his face, although that was a little bit weird. It was... everything. The prospect of a decent meal had managed to blind him temporarily, but now every time he thought about the fact that he was in some woman's apartment, he felt a deep, primal need to bolt and not look back.
"I shouldn't," he said. What the hell was it about her that rendered him so fucking helpless? It wasn't just that she was pretty; he saw a thousand pretty women on the street every day. "I'm not really a safe guy to be around."
"Why do we keep going back to this topic of safe? And how come you're safe to be in the neighborhood but the neighborhood isn't safe to be around you?" She paused, trying to unscramble that sentence out of her head.
"Look, just... at least sit down, and finish your meal?" She suddenly felt tired and didn't want to argue. If he didn't want to stay, that was fine with her; she had another bottle of wine. It was just bizarre to her though, how sad she knew she'd become if he walked away.
"Look, honey," Frank sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, wondering how to break it to her. He was fairly certain that she hadn't made all of the connections that he'd intended her to make. Otherwise, wouldn't she have been a bit more wary around him? "I don't know what you think it is that I was doing out there, but if you hadn't walked in front of me, I would have shot a man right between the eyes. I'm packing six guns right now, not including the rifle sitting in a guitar case in your front hall. If I was having a bad day - which I'm not - but if I was, I'd probably have at least four grenades on me as well. Is it starting to make a little more sense now?"
She couldn't help it. She laughed so hard, tears started to stream for her eyes. "And I don't think YOU understand Frank. I work for freaking IRON MAN. I'm not deluded enough to think that all he does with his enemies is battle pokemon cards or something. In the last six weeks, I've been chased all around Malibu by a man in a giant robot suit, I've had to blow up a building AND then organize it's reconstruction. I've had to get security clearance higher than the President's!" Her voice had been steadily increasing, but not in a threatening way. She was just so incredulous that this person had read her completely wrong. "And seriously. Who am I to judge?"
Frank snorted and arched an eyebrow, thoroughly insulted that he'd just been compared to Iron fucking Man. As far as he was concerned, Iron Man was just another queer in a fancy suit; his opinion of Tony Stark was so low that it might as well have not existed. "Sweetheart, Iron Man has got nothing on me." And he stopped there. There wasn't any point in arguing with her about it. Let her boss give her the rundown. He wasn't in the business of terrifying innocent women.
"You know," he said, voice deceptively mild as he poured himself one last glass of wine. "Most people do feel that they have a right to judge a man who executes criminals without giving them the benefit of a trial..."
"I'm not most people, you know." She said, walking right up to him. "I'm Pepper fucking Potts."
Reaching up, she got up on her toes and then kissed The Punisher. In her kitchen.
Frank stood very still for what seemed like a very long time, stiff and confused and unable to make sense of the fact that Pepper had not only essentially told him to shut the fuck up, but had then proceeded to make him shut the fuck up. She smelled like wine and perfumed soap and dryer sheets and he wanted desperately to put his arms around her and pull her tight against his chest.
If she had been any other woman, he might have done just that. It wasn't that he was unused to female company, although that was part of it. Sure, there had been the occasional woman since his wife's death, but those encounters had been... cold, somehow. Businesslike. And, in spite of her reputation, Pepper made him feel anything but businesslike.
He processed all of this in less than a second, and then his hands were resting gently on her hips and he was kissing her back.
She worried for a brief second, when he didn't move, that she had read this situation so completely and utterly wrong. She literally melted with relief when she felt his hands and knew, definitely, that yes, yes he was kissing her back.
"You're too tall for me to do this in the kitchen," she manages to say in between kisses. "This may sound cliché, but it really would be that much better if we were on the couch or the bed."
Frank stared at her for a moment, thought about the couch, and shook his head. "No couch, and... I think the bed might be a little too personal, if you know what I mean," he answered gently. He glanced around and grinned. "Try this."
He lifted her easily, catching her around the waist and holding her against his chest as he swung around and walked a few paces to the island in the middle of her kitchen. Sitting on the counter, her head was a few inches above his own, and he leaned in between her spread legs, broad hands cupping her ass as he kissed her again. "Better?"
She was becoming a real pro at giggling. When she'd had the island installed, she'd never considered how useful it really could be. "Much," she said, deepening the kiss.
It'd been a least a month or so since she'd kissed anyone (Tony not including) and she'd forgotten just how sensual it could possibly be. Plus, she never would've imagined how soft Frank's lips could be.
Pushing her body as close as it could get to his, she folded her arms around his neck, her fingers gently touching his head.
Slowly, his arms tightened around her slim waist, pulling her closer against him. She was so fucking small, it was like holding a bird and he could swear he felt her heartbeat against his chest as he kissed her. His hands stroked up and down her spine, itching to drift elsewhere. That, though, was something that he would not do. She deserved better than that, at least.
Pepper thought she was close before, but she didn't realize how much closer she should've been until he pulled her right up to his chest. It was odd being a bit taller than him - even in her highest heels, she still would be shorter - but she relished it as much as she could.
Pressing her breasts towards his head, she leaned down and began running soft kisses along side his neck.
Frank sighed softly and cupped the back of her head, threading his fingers through her soft hair. He'd have to put a stop to this soon; she was drunk, after all, and much too good for a one night stand. He wanted to take her out, buy her dinner, be seen with her, although if he was truthful with himself, that was partly because he wanted to annoy the shit out of Stark.
Smiling to himself, he planted a hand in the small of her back and tilted her away from him. His lips rested briefly in the hollow of her throat, then grazed along her collarbones, each in turn. Her skin was soft as silk, and his fingers crept beneath the hem of her shirt, resting just above the waistband of her yoga pants.
She nearly forgot to breathe as she felt his lips on her body, and when she felt the warmth from his hand on her body, she couldn't help herself.
Moaning, she took his head with both hands, and fiercely placed her lips on his, the intensity having increased with every new touch.
When she moaned, he knew he had to stop. God knew he would have liked to keep going; he had a feeling that her casual workout clothes would have looked even better on the floor of her kitchen, but if there was one thing that Frank Castle had retained from his former life, it was the almost pathological respect for women that his mother had instilled in him.
"Stop," he murmured, pulling back and opening his eyes again. Christ, she was lovely with her hair mussed and her cheeks pink.
"Stop?" Instant panic set in and she had a hard time trying to quell the tremor in her voice. Trying to calm her breathing down, she raised a shaky hand and tried to smooth down her hair.
"Do you not like it?"
"A little too much," he laughed, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Unable to help himself, he kissed the tip of her nose. "Let me buy you dinner some time." He had no money, but he knew where he could get some. Fury wanted him to play superheroes? Then he could goddamn well pay for Frank's dates.
Biting her bottom lip, she looked at him. Was this really a good idea? Making out with a random stranger, okay not the best idea, but going on an actual date with said person?
Go big or go home. "My cooking's that bad huh," she said, stealing another kiss. "But that's fine. I'll let you take me out." Reaching over beside her, she fished a card out of her random drawer.
"I really don't want you to leave at all, I think I've said this before. I wouldn't even mind if you stayed the night. But," she added quickly before he had a chance to say anything, "I understand. So, here's my card. It's got my personal phone number and email on it."
Sighing, she trailed a finger down the front of his shirt. "Again, this sounds cheesy, but I really did have a good time with you tonight. As random as it all was."
"You know... yeah. So did I." Frank shook his head, smiling gently again. Fucking strange, but there it was. You save a pretty girl in a bad neighborhood and end up asking her out on a date. Things could have gone much, much worse.
Frank tucked the card into his back pocket and leaned in, kissing her gently one last time. "I'll call you as soon as I can," he promised. "I've got a few people to take care of, but then I'm all yours." For at least a day, he amended silently. As pretty as she was, he wasn't going to let her interrupt his work.
Jumping down on to the floor, she sighed. "Come on, I'll walk you out." She wasn't so drunk that she couldn't remember her manners. Of course, she was drunk enough that she had an excuse to hold onto his hand and not have him shake it off. If he tried, she'd pull the drunk card.
Getting to the door, she reached into the closet and pulled out his coat. Holding it, she tried to smile. "Don't forget to call me."
"I won't," he promised, swinging the heavy black coat across his shoulders and kissing her on the forehead. He lifted the guitar case easily and winked at her. "Start thinking about where you wanna go. I know fuck-all about nice restaurants."
"Who said it had to be nice?," she lifted her head up, demanding a proper kiss goodnight. ,"I don't really care where we go. I'm sure we'll have fun regardless."
"Mm, yeah, but I kind of want to see you in a nice dress." He leaned in close and kissed her with a tenderness that surprised him. "Sweet dreams, Pepper." Frank hesitated at the door, then turned away. There was a man out there somewhere that demanded his attention.