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For all the ways Rhodey mentally prepared himself to find his best friend the weekend after his breakup, he somehow missed adding singing along to 90s pop to the list.
“Noone’s gonna care if you don’t ca-all when you said,” Tony screams off-key in a fake British accent along with the vocals blasting through the workshop.
Bit of an obvious choice, Rhodey thinks, recognising the lyrics, but keeps that to himself. What he calls into the room instead is, “Anyone home?”
“Platypus, so good you’re here!” Tony’s voice comes from somewhere behind half a mountain of old Iron Man suit parts that currently take up most of the workshop’s assembly platform. “Come ‘ere, you have to check this out!”
Rhodey obediently steps towards the source of the noise and finds his friend in dirty black jeans and an even dirtier undershirt in front of a virtual wall of holographic screens, motor oil and a smug grin decorating his face. “All these little things…” he hums, swinging his hips and suggestively wiggling an eyebrow at Rhodey when he comes into view.
I don’t care, Tony’s attitude says.
I care way too much, Rhodey reads in his always-too-expressive eyes, in the way he pops the consonants just a little bit too hard, and in the half-empty bottle of Bourbon he’s gripping loosely. Rhodey notices the last thing with a tinge of sadness―Pepper had just gotten Tony to limit the hard liquor exclusively to weekends and parties. But then, if Pepper were still here, none of this would be happening.
“Tune it down a bit, FRI,” Rhodey orders and feels his ears ringing with the sudden lack of noise when the volume drops to less assaulting levels.
He steps through the virtual screens and lays a hand on Tony’s shoulder, taking in the blue-tinged landscape of multitasking spread out in front of them. The engineer has set down the bottle and is now modifying the design schematics for a pair of glasses that’s inexplicably named BARF.
“These VR glasses or something?” Rhodey asks, frowning at the specifications.
“You wish.” Tony twists around on his swivel chair and snaps his fingers at Rhodey. “It’s better. Way, way better. But that’s not for tonight.”
He hits a virtual enter key and then minimises the screen with a flick of his hand, apparently forgetting what it was he’d wanted to show Rhodey originally. Instead, he offers the bottle.
The sadness in Rhodey’s chest spreads like cold water, settling in to stay, but he accepts the drink, because tonight it’s either both of them getting hammered or Tony inevitably kicking him out after two hours to continue alone, and that’s not happening on his watch.
So, minutes after midnight, they find themselves driving down the seemingly endless and fortunately empty forest road connecting the compound to the city, more than a little shitfaced. Tony has backtracked another few decades in music history and is now letting Black Sabbath blast into the woods and probably traumatising half a dozen wild bird species.
“This is fun, honeybear!” he shouts, taking his hands off the steering wheel for a dangerously long few seconds to punch Rhodey in the shoulder. “It’s been so long! The taste of freeedom, baby!"
Rhodey doesn’t call him out on his lie; he doesn’t have to. Nor on the drunk driving, because apart from being the world's first self-made superhero and holder of four PhDs, Tony Stark is possibly also the world’s most high-functioning alcoholic, and even in this state, Rhodey knows with certainty that he won’t crash them.
Instead, he just watches him, and waits. For the end of the night, the end of the charade, and the inevitable breakdown.
*
The woman on the porch has voluminous, dark red curls and is wearing nothing but an oversized AC/DC t-shirt, and for a very weird moment, Happy has a vision of Natasha stealing some of Tony’s clothes. Then her face comes into view and he sees that she’s got at least 15 years on Nat. Well.
When she kisses Pepper good-bye on the lips, he turns reflexively to check the opposite side of the street for paparazzi. Not strictly necessary in this part of the city, but old habits die hard.
“Nice evening?” he asks conversationally when Pepper deposits first her oversized handbag, and then herself, into the backseat.
“Very nice,” his boss responds with a sweet smile on perfectly red-painted lips. “This was long overdue.”
Happy winks at her through the rearview mirror and pulls out of the parking space, joining the early morning traffic jams of tiredness.
“Thanks for picking me up,” Pepper says. “I’d have taken a cab, but I got a high-level call with China in twenty that I wouldn’t want any of the taxi drivers to overhear.”
“No worries,” he assures, then curses when he narrowly misses a blindly opened door of an SUV half stopped on the sidewalk. “Amateurs,” he hisses.
By the time they leave Douglaston, Pepper is already scrolling through her phone, the relaxed smile from earlier replaced by a tightness around her lips and a slight crease on her forehead. Happy doesn’t have to ask what she’s doing. He’s well aware of her morning ritual―knows that she’s going through the email alerts she set for the mention of Tony Stark, knows that the tensed facial expressions will only disappear once she’s positive that Tony didn’t get killed, kidnapped, or taken into police custody the previous night.
“Pepper…”
“Stop reading in cars, I know I know,” she waves off without looking up.
Happy wasn’t about to say that, but he doesn’t disagree. Instead, almost softly, he adds: “He’s fine.”
“Yeah.” She nods and closes her eyes briefly, exhaling. Glances back down at her phone.
“I texted with Rhodey this morning. Long night, they’re both hungover, but otherwise alright. Now stop before you actually make yourself sick.”
Relief blooms on her face for the fraction of a second before she catches herself and covers it with professional indifference. “Good to know,” she says, in a tone as if he’d told her there might be snow tomorrow.
And if Happy was any other person, he’d probably let out a sigh loud enough to wake the whole block. But he’s a boxer-driver-forehead-of-security and friend, so he just takes a deep inhale, in through the mouth and out through the nose, and turns on the radio.
And quietly smiles to himself when his boss declines the offer to drive her back to Douglaston tonight.
Because Pepper and Tony might not know it yet, but there's a small piece of jewellery hidden away in the pocket of his suit jacket, the weight of which tells him their story's far from over.