At the accusation, Tony's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he echoed incredulously, "Bratty?" Tony refused to believe it was bratty to assume Pepper was here to do her job. She didn't even like parties anyway. He was doing her a service, getting into that suit tonight. She liked taking care of him. They had an understanding. He wasn't bratty.
His indignance didn't last. Whatever the circumstance, Wanda was helping him out of his clothes, which he would take many kinds of abuses for. He didn't do much to help her, just smiled innocently and watched her progress, rolling his shoulders as needed. Acid pitted skin probably wasn't a good look for him, the wounds a spattering of black pits crusted with warped, melted gold flakes of the underarmor caught in the reaction, but the image didn't slow Tony from wrapping his good arm around Wanda again to pull her onto the bed next to him, tight against his hip, already nuzzling into her neck. "I could use another picture," he murmured, fingers dragging over her hip to curl into a fist around the fabric of her skirt, pulling it to skim higher over her thigh.