Chapter Text
"Mr. Stark, Mr. Stark!" The flashes of dozens of cameras and the chaos of just as many reporters calling for his attention is something Tony is starting to get used to, but he doubts he will ever get to the point where he will truly enjoy it. Sure, he loves basking in the attention, loves having the public eye on him, loves being in the lime-light; but does he love having to have bodyguards to keep the reporters at bay, love having to wear sunglasses so that he can even see, love having questions fired at him faster than he can answer? Not so much.
Still, he reminds himself, anything is better than being stuck in Obie's basement all his life, churning out weapon after weapon. Even a press conference over his latest weapon.
"Mr. Stark!" One reporter catches his attention, a young, pretty thing, with long, blonde hair and big, blue eyes. 'America's Sweetheart type,' Tony thinks idly. He leans over the stand, smiling lasciviously at her. "Yes, gorgeous?"
She blushes, but Tony has to give her points for keeping her composure, barely stuttering at all as she asks her question. "Mr. Stark, do you intend to ever reclaim Stane Industries for the Stark name from Obadiah Stane?"
Tony sighs as he straightens up again. He had hoped to be able to get through at least one weapon press conference without a question about his personal life. Still, he guesses it is to be expected, after the wonder-kid Stark had returned to the world after over two decades of hiding from the public eye. But, come on, really, he would have expected that after nearly four years of saying it over and over, people would start to understand that he really didn't want the company.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Obie stiffen, and realizes he has yet to answer the blonde reporter. "Nah." He says, affixing an easy grin. "I wouldn't want to handle all that business stuff, are you kidding me? I'd much rather be inventing stuff than organizing how it gets sold. Trust me, Obie here does it much better than I ever could." He claps Obie on the shoulder and feels him twitch with irritation. Tony smirks, knowing that Obie can't do anything at all about Tony's impudence without revealing Tony's nature, something Obie could never do.
Tony grins as cameras flash once more, him profiled against the new missile system behind him, grins because right now, he's on top of the world.
-_-_-_-_-_
Afterwards, before Obie can drag him away to the car, Tony accidentally loses him in the crush of people and slips away. He feels a hand gently grab his arm, and looks over to see the blonde reporter smiling coyly at him, and Tony leers back. She's quite pretty, for a Beta, and they slip off together.
-_-_-_-_-_
He gets off against an alley wall, her deft fingers bringing him to a climax as they pant and moan and push against each other. The back of his dress slacks are soaked, but she doesn't notice, too undone herself. He slips away before she truly comes back down from her high, and makes it back to the limo. Obie glares daggers, eyes promising painful punishment, and Tony smirks.
-_-_-_-_-_
It's in the tabloids the next day, of course, but it's not like anyone cares. Tony Stark being in the tabloids are nothing new.
It's just Tony's luck, though, that of course Obie cares.
-_-_-_-_-_
The dance floor is a sea of writhing bodies and scantily covered skin, while a beat thrums through the air and drunken couples fumble with each other. Tony leans against the bar, his tie undone and a smirk on his face as he observes the room. It's one of the few parties that Obie hasn't been able to weasel him out of, mainly because the invitation was from OsCorp, a company that they had tentative relationships, and one which Obie really wanted on his side. To refuse to come would just be bad manners, so here Tony is.
He throws back another shot, barely noticing the burn as he pushes Obie from his mind. Instead, Tony looks around the room. He's built quite a reputation for himself during his last seven years of freedom, and he knows he won't be short of willing partners. His eyes pause on a muscular man, Alpha through and through, sitting at a table a ways away. The man's eyes are firmly trained on Tony and he leers as he notices Tony Looking. Tony smirks in return and, with a wave of his fingers in gesture to follow, heads through the mass of bodies toward the back exit of the club. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices the man stand up from the table and follow.
Oh, yeah. Tonight is going to be fun.
Of course, he can't let the guy fuck him, but a handjob, or, hell, even a blowjob wouldn't reveal Tony's orientation, especially in the dark chaos of an alley fumble.
Tony's barely stepped out of the doorway when he's grabbed by the collar and pushed up against the wall, a hard mouth pressing against his hard enough to bruise. Tony moans into the kiss, giving way to the invasive tongue as his eyes slide shut. The man grinds against him, and Tony moans again, feeling himself harden. The mouth slides from him, to rest against his neck, biting and sucking in equal measure as Tony tries to remember how to breathe.
His shirt is ripped open, buttons flying everywhere, clattering along the alley street, as the mans' mouth descends to the joint of Tony's neck and shoulder, worrying the spot with his teeth. Tony's head flies back in utter abandon, and this is so hot and right and good and oh god do that again-
There's a sharp report, echoing loudly in the alley after the near-silence broken only by moans. 'Gunshot' Tony realizes distantly, still completely out of it. The man on top of him stiffens, then sags, his whole rest coming to weigh against Tony. The air leaves Tony's lungs in a rush, and he gasps for breath as the man slides down to crumple in a heap on the ground in front of Tony.
Dumbly, Tony realizes that the spreading pool around the man is blood. He stares, stock-still, until several dark-cloaked figures jump at him. Tony turns to run, realizing that there is no way he's going to be able to fight these guys, when there is a prick in his neck. It only stings for a moment before things start to go sort of blurry, and darkness encroaches on his vision.
He's unconscious before his body hits the filthy alley ground.
-_-_-_-_-_
Tony had thought that waking up after being knocked out might be a bit like waking up after not nearly enough sleep, or, at worst, perhaps like a hangover the morning after he had drunk himself into oblivion.
He was wrong.
It is much, much worse.
Tony tries to open his eyes, and that's a mistake, as even short glimpse of dim lighting sends spikes of piercing agony into his brain. He moans, loudly, and tries to curl up into the fetal position, only to discover that he can't move his arms and legs at all. He jerks on them, eyes still firmly shut, to discover that his hands and feet are tied with coarse rope to what feels like the arms and legs of a chair.
Nausea roils in his stomach, and Tony wrenches his head to the side far enough that most of his bile ends up on the ground next to the chair he appears to be sitting in, and not on him. He pants heavily as he struggles to get his stomach into control and, once that's accomplished, opens his eyes, much more slowly and cautious this time.
It still hurts like hell, but he can bear it slightly better. Through squinted eyes, Tony can see a dark figure, and he jerks back in his chair, not that it does any good, when the figure leans towards him. The person, whoever it is, chuckles lowly, maliciously, but does lean back.
Tony opens his eyes slightly more, and his surroundings came into focus. He's in a stark (ha ha) white room, that can't be much more than 10' X 10'. The only things inside appear to be the sturdy metal chair he is tied to, and the man in front of him.
Finally, Tony turns his attention to the man, whom he had been ignoring while he had been examining the room. The man is tall, with gelled-back brown hair and a ridiculously small, oiled mustache. He looks like a villain from a B-rated movie, and Tony can't help but roll his eyes. "Seriously?" He says aloud. "I got kidnapped by wannabe-impostor of the Godfather?"
The mans slick smirk disappears as he strides forward and backhands him, hard, across the cheek, sending his head snapping to the side. He must have bitten his tongue by accident, because now the coppery taste of blood is filling Tony's mouth.
"You will not speak to me that way." The man snapped, a slight Italian accent in his tone. "Or the consequences will be quite severe."
Slowly, Tony turns his head back to look at the man, severely unimpressed. Raising an eyebrow, Tony questions, "So, what do you want? Money, technology, military secrets, weapons, my company, sex, or just the sweet pleasure of company?"
The man looks slightly taken aback as Tony rattles off the list, and Tony smirks internally. 'This isn't exactly my first rodeo. He thinks. 'If you think you are the first person to have ever kidnapped Tony Stark, you are sorely mistaken.'
And it's true. Just in the last seven years, there have been 18 kidnapping attempts. Tony's always gotten out of them relatively unscathed, and he figures that's the price he has to pay for being such a high-profile figure in society, not to mention the mind behind some of the greatest weapons and weapon systems in the world.
"You, Mr. Stark," Slick has regained his composure, "are going to be held here until SI or your partner, Obadiah Stane, pays the 10 million dollars to return you."
"Look, I'm flattered, really, that you would think I'm worth that much," Tony says, "but you ought to know that SI put into place a no-ransom policy about the fifth time I got kidnapped."
Slick blinks, then his slimy grin comes back. "I'm sure they'll make an exception for you." He steps to the side, and, oh look! There's a camera on a tripod pointed directly at him.
Tony smiles his bright, fake, celebrity smile for the camera, and says, "Obie, if you're watching this; I want all my digital to go to JARVIS, I want my tool kit to go to Dummy, along with my smoothie machine, I suppose you can have my prototypes, but you had better-"
With a snarl of inarticulate rage, Slick steps forward and hits him again. 'Other cheek, this time, so at least both sides of my face match,' Tony thinks, rather hysterically.
His head is still really foggy from whatever drug they had used to knock him out, and the blows to his head are really not helping. Blackness is already dancing around the edges of his vision, and though he pushes it back as well as he is able, eventually, the void swallows him whole, and Tony falls back asleep.
-_-_-_-_-_
When Tony comes to for the second time, he is alone in the room. He cranes his head around, checking, just in case, before muttering quietly. "JARVIS, are you into their systems?"
A voice comes, just as quietly, from his wristwatch. "Yes, sir."
"Good boy." Tony leans back in the chair a bit, getting more comfortable, before he says, a smirk on his face, "Then let the fireworks begin."
Immediately, a klaxon siren starts wailing through the air. There are hurried footsteps outside his door, presumably his guards running towards wherever the source of the alarms is. There is a pause, then a click as his door unlocks and swings open.
That's when Tony encounters a problem.
"Uh, JARVIS? I'm still tied to this chair."
"I am aware of that, sir. Lt. Col. Rhodes is on his way to your position."
"Rhodey's here?" A wide grin spreads across Tony's face. "I thought he was still overseas."
"I'm on leave." This time, the voice comes not from Tony's watch, but the doorway in front of him, where Rhodey is standing, shaking his head.
Tony beams. "Honeysuckle! How nice of you to rescue me from these meany kidnappers." He pouts, and Rhodey chuckles wryly.
"Well, you and JARVIS did most of the work. All I had to do was stroll in, unopposed, I might add, and untie you." Rhodey strides forward and starts untying Tony's bonds. "Really, Tony," He says from where he is bent over, untying one of Tony's legs. "You've got to stop doing this. I'm your liaison to the military, not your bodyguard. Shouldn't Happy be doing this?"
"It's not my fault that I'm a super-celebrity genius that idiots try to kidnap! And didn't you hear? Happy's been promoted to my driver, and anyways, he's in Oregon, visiting his family." Rhodey unties his hands, and Tony rubs his aching wrists as he stands. "So who else besides my best friend is supposed to rescue me?"
The Alpha rolls his eyes, and Tony grins. "Now, come on, we'd better get going before Slick comes back."
Rhodey looks confused, but he follows Tony out of the room and down the hall.
-_-_-_-_-_
"Pepppppperrrrr." Tony drags her name out. He's lying upside down on the couch in his lab, his head hanging off the front and his legs hooked over the back.
"Tony." She replies, arching an eyebrow.
"PEEEEEEEPPPERRRRRR." Tony whines, and Pepper sighs.
"I'm not leaving until you sign all these, so you might get it over with." She sets down a file-folder absolutely bursting with papers on one of his lab tables.
With an unintelligible grumble, Tony swings his legs down and sits up, pausing for a second to avoid head-rush, before standing up and shuffling over to her. He flops down ungracefully onto a lab stool and drags the stack of paper over to himself.
As he begins signing papers, Pepper consults her clipboard. "You have a press conference tomorrow at 11, and Obie would like me to tell you that the Jericho prototype had better be done by tomorrow night. Also," Pepper flips through a couple of pages, "You'd better have a batch of suppressants ready to go, because your heat is in a couple of weeks."
"Yeah, yeah." Tony nods distractedly, focused on signing the papers. "Jarvis, you got all that?"
"Indeed, sir." JARVIS replies, and Pepper rolls her eyes.
"What's the point of you requesting me as a personal assistant if you're just going to ignore me and have JARVIS remember everything for you?" She asks, sounding slightly put-off.
Tony pauses in the stack of paperwork, looking up at her. "Pepper, you are irreplaceable! Sure, JARVIS might be great, but he can't drag me from the lab after I've barricaded myself inside for the past week. He can't bring me food from that awesome Italian place that refuses to do takeout. He can't tuck the blanket in around me when I fall asleep on the couch."
"Oh, I see." Pepper raises an eyebrow. "You don't need a PA; You need a Nanny."
Tony gapes at her, then puts a hand to his chest, mock-offended. "You wound me, Pepper, truly! I thought we were having a moment there!"
"I know that I, for one, was nearly brought to tears by such display of affection." JARVIS says dryly, then adds belatedly, "Sir."
"Why is it that everyone around me as suddenly turned so mean and sarcastic?" Tony pouts, folding his arms across his chest.
"We get it from you, you know." Pepper informs him as she gathers up the papers again.
Tony has just opened his mouth to protest when JARVIS says, "I wouldn't say that," "Thank you, JARVIS, see, he appreciates-" "Which is why I'm glad that Miss Potts did." JARVIS cuts him off to continue.
Tony stares at the ceiling, jaw hanging open, and then at Pepper, who's covering her mouth but not quite covering her smile. He throws his hands up in defeat. "Okay, fine, I give up. You obviously have me outnumbered and out-maneuvered."
Pepper laughs now, a bright, clear sound that makes Tony's heart pound. "Don't pout. You know it's true."
"Yeah, yeah, sure, whatever. How 'bout you just run back to Happy and leave me alone, huh?" Tony says grumpily, turning away to fiddle with something on another table.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Tony." Pepper says, sounding fondly amused. Tony hears the click of her heels as she leaves, and he watches her out of the corner of his eye.
Maybe, someday, in another life, something could have become of them. But Pepper has a Beta of her own, and though, rarely, Tony wished that he had never introduced Pepper and Happy, they made each other happy, and Tony wouldn't dream of taking that away from them.
-_-_-_-_-_
"I'm trusting you on this one, Tony." Obie's hand is heavy and oppressive on his shoulder, and Tony doesn't resist the urge to shake it off. Obie's eyes narrow at him for a second, but Tony ignores it. That doesn't even register on the radar of his insubordination, so he doesn't see why it should bother Obie. Obie's continuing, now, "As you know, I'll be in New York for a board meeting, but I know that nobody can do a better live demonstration of The Jericho better than you."
"Yeah, sure, I got this." Tony says dismissively.
"Alright," Obie grins, a slightly unsettling thing that Tony doesn't believe he's seen before; the smile seems to have layers of something entirely different than happiness. He shakes off his uneasiness as Obie starts to walk back towards the door. "And don't miss your flight! I really need you at this thing!"
"Sure thing, Obie." Tony calls back, rolling his eyes, before turning back to his project. As if he'd miss his flight.
-_-_-_-_-_
Later, he'll wish that he had.