Chapter Text
"That's me." Tony pointed to a sign that read: Anthony Stark, Stane Enterprises.
The man holding the sign stood blond head and linebacker's shoulders taller than his fellow chauffeurs. Expat probably, one of those guys who spoke six languages if his agency catered to Hightown's business elite. His expression remained neutral as he appraised Tony in a single glance.
Tony had chosen comfort for the long flight, old jeans and a hoodie. He knew he looked like he belonged on the graveyard shift in a lab with rattling air ducts and bad lighting, not flying first-class and riding in limousines. "Er... do you need to see ID or something?"
"That won't be necessary. Welcome to Madripoor, Mr Stark." The chauffeur folded his sign and stashed it in his uniform pocket. "A photograph was included with your itinerary. May I take your bag?"
Tony hesitated. The carry-on contained everything he would need to make his MDTECON presentation. Losing it wouldn't be a disaster, but it would be highly inconvenient. "Maybe I should see some ID."
"No problem at all, sir." Blondie whipped out his wallet and held it for Tony to inspect his license and employee badge. "Roger Smith of Asset Logistics Management, at your service. My company was contracted to provide you with transportation, assistance, and security for the duration of your stay."
"You're a bodyguard." Had that sounded surprised? He shouldn't have sounded surprised. Surprise could imply there'd been a mistake, and one phone call could end the VIP treatment before Tony had a chance to enjoy it.
"I am." Smith plowed ahead, "Allowing for customs and traffic, it could be a couple hours before we reach the hotel. If you wish to freshen up or grab a bite to eat, I suggest you do so now."
"I'm fine," Tony said, as the guy nearly wrestled away his laptop case.
"Then if you'll follow me please, sir." It was not a request, and Tony had to jog the first few steps to catch up before Smith could lose him in the crowd.
So far, the reality of having his very own bodyguard was not living up to the hype.
~~~~~
The car was okay, Tony supposed. More of an upscale SUV than a limo, it didn't have the crazy amenities he'd hoped to see. It was probably bulletproof.
Smith's driving at least left nothing to be desired. Smooth turns and braking, and very few hit potholes. Despite being intrigued by the color saturated cityscape crawling by outside, Tony caught himself nodding off more than once. The last time couldn't have been more than five minutes, but he blinked awake in a parking garage, Smith rapping at his window.
"Jetlag," Tony mumbled as he crawled out of the vehicle and straight into a luxurious stretch. His spine popped loudly enough to earn him a look.
"Perhaps you'd care for a massage." Smith lifted Tony's luggage from the back as if it weighed next to nothing.
Tony tried not to look too hopeful. "Really, that's one of the, ah, services you provide?"
"The Sovereign is a world-class hotel. I understand they have an excellent masseuse on staff."
"Oh, oh right." The first-class flight, luxury SUV, an attractive bodyguard, and now a world-class hotel, naturally. "Is that safe, though? I mean, in spy thrillers it's hotel staff or the next door neighbor or the delivery boy who turns out to be the first assassin."
"If it would ease your-" Unfounded and somewhat ridiculous went unsaid. "-concerns, I could remain in attendance during your session."
"That was a joke," Tony said. An attempt to cover up his little gaffe. "And you went and made it all weird."
"My apologies. This way, sir."
"Wait-"
Smith was either naturally zen or had acquired that placid expression through long and painful experience. Or drugs, maybe drugs. "Yes?"
Tony should probably admit to being a phony VIP. The longer he waited, the more awkward it could be when the truth came out. Still... it wouldn't hurt anything to see his room first, would it? "Sorry, never mind."
"It's no trouble, sir. This way?"
~~~~~
Tony changed his mind about coming clean when he saw the suite Ms Potts had booked on the corporate account. It wasn't the penthouse but it was damned close, room after room of plush, toe-wriggling carpet and crisp white linens. Home theater system. A full kitchen. His own sauna.
Smith noticed Tony's inspection and made a show of doing his own sweep before moving Tony's luggage to the main bedroom. He'd carried it up himself -- to the apparent relief of the bellhop, who must have figured Tony's clothes and ironically vintage suitcases into the odds of a decent tip.
Speaking of tips, this was the part where Smith might expect one, unless he intended to hang around. "So. How does this-" Tony gestured vaguely. Work?
"Sir?"
"I appreciate that you didn't kick me out at the curb."
Smith frowned.
"Kidding, I'm- It's a thing I do. Not very well, I've been told."
Still with the frowning, but now also waiting for the real punch line, it seemed.
Hm, how about... "I'd like to finish getting settled first, but how will I contact you if I decide to go out later? Should I expect you, or could it be someone else from your agency?"
Smith pulled out a pair of business cards and laid them on a dresser -- the extra no doubt anticipating Tony losing the first. He explained like he was reading the sales pitch straight from a brochure, "ALM agents strive for personalized service and strong client rapport. It helps me do my job if I'm a familiar face."
"Makes sense," Tony said. It sounded like a load of ego-stroking crap, but whatever.
"You have one agent assigned to your detail: myself. Likewise, I am assigned only to your detail. My attention is exclusively yours for the next four days. Sir."
"Great," Tony said. That answered that.
Smith wasn't finished, though. "I am available to you twenty-four seven. I go where you go, I sleep when you sleep-"
He was welcome to try adopting Tony's sleep schedule. Countless mere mortals had tried and failed. "If I go take a nap, does that mean you conk out on the couch?"
"Negative. Protocol dictates that until I have been dismissed for the night, I remain alert and responsive. I can either do that here, as unobtrusively as possible, or I can wait down in the car. It's your choice."
Yeah, Tony was pretty sure that, by now, Smith was hoping he'd pick the latter. He was shaping up to be that smartass, the one despised by every person who'd ever worked in the service industry. "No, no, it's fine. You can stay here. More leg room."
Smith raised an eyebrow at him.
Tony didn't say, I'd kind of prefer the company. He also didn't say, I'm not your typical client. "I'm not big on protocol. Sit down, kick your feet up, turn on the TV. Make yourself some coffee, grab a snack. It'll be like I'm a freshman again, only with a more attractive and hygienic roommate. Can I call you Reggie?"
"Er-"
"Done. And you're not allowed to call me 'sir' anymore. I bet I'm younger than you."
"Four years," Smith admitted.
Tony knew that. It was the second thing he'd checked on Smith's license. "Wait a minute. SE sent you guys my stats?"
A junior engineer just didn't rate the red carpet treatment. Tony suspected that, when he'd been tapped to take over MDTECON, someone had simply changed the name on travel arrangements made months prior. But maybe it wasn't an oversight. He was representing SE in President Stane's place, and the company did have an image to maintain.
Maybe Tony should have pressed for details instead of giving in to the repeated assurance that everything was being handled for him.
Smith had the wary look of someone who was about to cop to something they knew they shouldn't. "Unfortunately, we did not receive a full profile as requested from Stane Enterprises -- I have to assume due to the last-minute change of plans."
"Shit, you didn't. You internet stalked me?"
"Only what was publicly available," Smith said. "Which reminds me, do you have any food allergies or medical conditions I should be aware of?"
"That depends. Do you have any concealed weapons to declare?"
"Please, Mr Stark. I'm serious."
"So am I. Inquiring minds want to know."
~~~~~
Tony did some basic unpacking, then rewarded himself with what was supposed to be a power nap. He woke up in a dark room, splayed across a huge bed that wasn't his, his cheek mashed into a drool-soaked pillow.
Classy.
It was probably too late to check in at the convention center. Oh well, he'd shoot them an e-mail to let them know he'd arrived, pick up his badge and crap in the morning. His Friday schedule was open; the presentation wasn't until Saturday, 8 a.m. Somewhere in there was a dinner he'd be expected to attend, but he was already working on his excuse.
He found Smith parked in the breakfast nook off the kitchen, posture at odds with an ultra modern stool.
"Evening." Smith closed his book.
"Don't get up on my account." The book was in German of all things, some kind of technical manual. "A little light reading?" Tony asked. Shoot, that would have been a good place to work in another Reggie, and he'd missed it.
"Wouldn't call it light." Smith got up anyway and led toward the kitchen. "It's after nine. Are you hungry?"
"Very. Are you?"
"The room service here can accommodate almost any request, unless you wish to dine out?"
"If I take you out, are you going to sit there like a creeper and watch me eat?"
Smith clearly wasn't enamored with Tony's knack for leaving him stuck without a ready answer.
"No room service," Tony said, "but I don't want to get dressed up either."
"The hotel offers in-suite meal preparation for guests traveling without their own personal chef. Shall I-"
"Can you cook?"
Smith considered. "I live alone, and I manage to keep myself fed."
"Okay," Tony rubbed his hands together, "there's our plan."
"Mr Stark-"
"Tony."
"I do think you'd be happier with room service."
Shit no, not when Tony could argue the room charge, but he'd probably be stuck paying any additional hotel fees out of pocket. "You and me, grocery store, come on."
Smith leaned on the last syllable like a soldier taking orders: "Yessir."
Ha ha, real cute.
Five minutes of delayed reaction later, Tony's lizard hindbrain perked up and said, Actually...
~~~~~
Tony put Smith in charge of ingredient selection and sat back to watch the show. It turned the shopping excursion into a surgical strike; within thirty minutes they were back at the hotel with two bags and not a single microwavable anything.
Standing in the kitchen while he planned out the next phase of the operation, Smith idly shed his uniform coat. The shoulder holster was less of a revelation than a point for Tony on the imaginary scoreboard he just now decided to start keeping. He added a second point right away for the shoulders themselves... and what the hell, a third point for Smith's unfairly tight white undershirt.
"Let me know if I can help you with anything," Tony said. Anything, offer not limited to the kitchen.
Smith grabbed a cutting board and reached for the largest knife in the block. "Thank you, but that won't be necessary."
"Can I watch?" Come on, say it. Say 'like a creeper'.
The knife cleaved a head of cabbage in half with one blow, missing Smith's knuckles by millimeters. "Do as you wish."
Tony wished. "This is nice. I can't remember the last time someone made a home-cooked meal for me."
Some of the innate stiffness left Smith's posture; the next cuts were less forceful. "You live alone too?"
"Mmhm, have ever since my parents died -- save one unfortunate semester."
"Sorry to hear that."
"I'm not in a relationship, if that's your next question."
"It wasn't going to be, no," Smith said. "Not my business."
"Not exactly a secret to anyone who's found my social media accounts."
Smith refused to bite at that one.
"How about you?"
"Married to the job." Smith threw a bunch of stuff in a hot pan, and almost wiped his hands on his slacks before he caught himself and moved for the sink. "Long, unpredictable hours, lots of travel..."
"Pay's decent though, right?" Tony said.
Or not. Smith actually laughed, and continued chuckling to himself long after the humor of the moment should have worn off.
~~~~~
It was strange to be alone in the suite after Smith's dismissal for the night. Shortly after his parents' funeral, Tony had gone on a binge of inappropriate and puerile behavior. Part of it had been the sudden absence of parental oversight in his life. The rest had been him nursing the delusion that his new independence conferred on him the right to do whatever the fuck he wanted. He might have trashed the house if it hadn't been sold to settle the estate; he would have flunked out of college if not for the tireless efforts of a hidden benefactor.
Alone in an unfamiliar city -- and shoved without warning or preparation into a major professional responsibility -- Tony wasn't surprised that some of the old impulses would resurface. He wasn't going to, but he could throw his own party: crank some music, raid the bar, knock over some lamps. Stand on the balcony in a bath towel and serenade the neighborhood.
He showered and crawled into bed with his laptop, both pleased and disappointed that he'd made the responsible choice.
The next morning, Smith arrived in time to procure breakfast before driving Tony to the convention center. He'd switched from his chauffeur's uniform to a sedate but decent suit, making his tag-along presence feel more ordinary. Tony introduced him to the convention organizers as his assistant -- which had the unintended consequence of Smith running with the role like he knew what the hell he was doing.
Scratch that. He knew exactly what he was doing. Soon Tony was sidelined in conversations about schedules and room preparation and tech requirements. Then he gave up listening in to correct Smith's mistakes when it became obvious that the man wasn't making any.
"Want to do my presentation for me, too?" Tony asked, once they'd been released into the general convention populace.
"No, thank you," Smith said.
"You didn't write any of that down. Aren't assistants supposed to-"
"It's memorized."
"But-"
Leaning closer as they walked, Smith murmured, "Let's just say I have practice keeping track of details without leaving an incriminating trail."
"There's discretion and then there's paranoia."
"Lives hang in the balance in my line of work. I can never be too... discreet."
"Not my life," Tony said. "You must have figured out by now that I'm not-"
"Conspicuous enough to have enemies?"
No. Well, yes. "That too."
"Don't sell yourself short. Anyone with an invitation to speak at an exclusive defense tech convention has a few enemies somewhere. Half the attendees are being escorted by protection, in case you hadn't noticed."
"You mean all the ripped people running around in earpieces, sunglasses, and kevlar?" Tony grinned. "I thought those were cosplayers."
~~~~~
Tony wasn't under orders to sit in on any of the other presentations, but he took in a few anyway. It was probably one of those networking opportunities he was always hearing about, plus a chance to see if the competition had anything interesting in development.
Not that he claimed to know what SE had in development at any given moment. He was a components man, a medic for faulty bits and parts isolated from their surrounding systems. He rarely had access to the big picture; in fact, it was better that he didn't. Too many toes to step on by questioning design decisions that were way above his pay grade -- and set in stone long before they reached his department.
Tony remained seated when the Wai-Go Industries presentation ended with a round of applause. The lights came up in the hall, and he noticed that, once again, he and Smith were among the youngest and least influential looking members of the audience.
"Well?" Smith asked. It wasn't his way of saying Ready to go? or Aren't you bored yet? He seemed honestly interested in Tony's opinion.
"Zero for three."
"What was wrong with that one?"
Kronas Corp's presentation had been a conservative rehash, nothing new. Hammer's had been smoke and mirrors; they had fuck all and knew it. As for Wai-Go... "Too many acronyms," Tony decided.
"Comes with the territory."
"I suppose you know all about the defense industry."
"I haven't always been a bodyguard," Smith said.
Military. Made sense. "What unit?"
Smith shook his head.
"Branch?"
"Nope, sorry."
"Fine, fine." There were ways of finding out if Tony really wanted to know. "They don't have the power requirements figured out. It's like that joke about step one and step two, then step three is a row of question marks and step four is profit! They tried to disguise step three with a whole bunch of acronyms and tech jargon, but I don't buy it."
"Looks like a lot of the audience did." Smith nodded to the foot of the stage, where a small crowd was gathering for an informal Q&A with the speaker.
"Yeah," Tony said. "Suckers." He wasn't growing bored so much as antsy. Tense. This had been the final presentation for the day, and his was scheduled first thing in the morning. Despite the subterfuge, Wai-Go had given a slick performance, very assured and professional. A tough act to follow.
It might be time to return to the Sovereign for some practice and minor crisis of confidence.
~~~~~
"Reggie, I was thinking..."
"Sounds dangerous," Smith called from the front room.
"Can you stay the night? Here, I mean. In the suite." There wasn't an immediate answer. Which... right, Tony hadn't expected one. He began to lay out his argument. "I'd like an audience to practice on. You wouldn't need to pay attention, or even pretend to pay attention. Just, you know, be present in the bodily sense. We could order way too much food from one of those hole in the wall local joints-"
Smith appeared in the doorway. "I can stay."
"Changing here." Tony was finished with the shirt but was between pairs of pants. "I didn't hear a knock."
"Door was wide open." Smith kept his gaze above Tony's waist, but that was the only concession he made for modesty. "Besides, nothing I haven't seen a hundred times before."
Tony thought he had nice legs, or at least better than average. It was just a shame they hadn't seen much sun in the last, oh, sixteen months or so. "I think I've been insulted."
"I'll stay," Smith repeated.
"Thanks." Tony turned away to pull up his jeans, arranging his junk for comfort before doing up his fly. One final shimmy and he looked up and straight at Smith's reflection, watching him candidly from the mirrored closet door.
Dilemma: should he say something or was this a never mention it again situation? Which would be more awkward, a stupid joke or a bad pick-up line? Ooh, maybe a combination of the two.
Smith wasn't giving him anything to work with, just silence and an almost presumptuous expression.
No mention it was. "I need to set up, if you can handle dinner and drinks. And by drinks I mean alcoholic and not something hideously expensive from the minibar."
"On it." Smith supplanted whatever he'd been thinking with the faintest frown as he turned to go.
~~~~~
Smith had left the suite by the time Tony emerged with his laptop. In truth there wasn't much setup to do. He read over his cue cards for the twentieth time, scribbling a note here and there. At least he was hawking a project he'd actually worked on, even if it had been just an IR sensor array. SE was supposed to have functioning test models, but if there had been any live fire trials he hadn't seen the footage. It was possible that he never would.
Smith returned about twenty minutes later, humming as he let himself in. He had a bulging plastic take-out bag, a black duffel on his shoulder, and a bottle clamped beneath his arm. "Mission accomplished."
"Did you get one of everything on the menu?"
"Wasn't sure what you liked." Smith noticed Tony eyeing the duffel. "Overnight bag. I keep it in the car for just such an occasion."
Occasion, huh? It probably was more common than Tony realized for a bodyguard to spend the night away from home while on assignment. "And the booze?"
Smith put some wicked spin on the bottle when he underhand-tossed it to Tony, like a football. "Something hideously expensive from the car's minibar I thought you should try."
"Uh-"
"My treat, don't worry about it."
Tony unpacked dinner all over the coffee table. Screw plates, he was eating out of the cartons. "Thanks. I like this looser you," he said without thinking.
Again with that slight, almost puzzled, frown.
"Wait. I wasn't implying anything about your, I don't know, professional conduct or whatever."
"I know," Smith said.
"I'm just a long way from home... and you usually have this formidable thing going, and you must have expectations about me as a client that I'm not meeting..."
"It's okay," Smith said. "Every client requires a different approach, it just took me a while to figure out yours. And since we're being honest..."
We are?
"I don't get many opportunities to loosen up on assignment. I'm enjoying it while I can."
Tony pointed at him. "That sounds like a toast. We're going to toast to that."
"I shouldn't. Relaxed or not, I am on duty."
"Wrong. You are dismissed for the evening." Asking Smith to stay the night for no real reason had been kind of an asshole move. How's that for honesty? "Only please hang around long enough to do the audience thing because I could really use the practice."
Smith shrugged and began to roll up his sleeves. He'd already ditched his tie somewhere and loosened a few shirt buttons. "Guess I'll get the glasses."
This was good, this was great. Tony just had to make it through a couple hours without blurting something about how he'd failed in their moment of honesty to mention that he was still fantasizing about getting laid tonight.
Thank fuck he needed to stay sober for the big morning.
~~~~~
Tony ran through his whole presentation once, then several times doing just the speaking part. It too had been intended for President Stane, tailored to his speech pattern and weighty yet genial public persona. Tony still found it difficult to deliver some of the lines with a straight face, but he'd been forbidden to alter a single word.
Smith was a better test audience than the denizens of Tony's department, free with his suggestions and critical where Tony needed him to be. The prolonged and very focused attention made Tony increasingly self-conscious as the night wore on, until Smith took pity on his flagging performance and had them trade places for a turn. Smith read cards while Tony was supposed to be noting things like cadence and body language, but instead got hung up on how weirdly pretty Smith's eyelashes were.
He stayed put when Smith returned to the sofa, and they sat together in silence, picking through cold food cartons for an after-midnight snack.
"Done?" Smith finally asked, corralling their trash.
"Yeah." Tony had already risked straining his voice going on as long as he had. "If I crash now I can still squeeze in a few hours of sleep. Are you-"
"I'll wake you at five with a pot of coffee on standby."
Staying? Guess so. "You're an angel."
"Any other instructions?"
Tony cleared his throat. "That should cover it. I'll just-" Be in the bedroom, if you, you know...
"Good night Anthony."
If only it was so easy. Tony knew as soon as his head hit the pillow that it was a stare at the ceiling kind of night. The lights had gone down in the outer suite before Tony left his bathroom. He listened to Smith moving cautiously through his own bedtime routine, but that distraction lasted only a few minutes.
What the hell was he even doing? MDTECON amounted to a high-stakes marketing gig; there were dozens of SE employees more qualified and with better industry name recognition that Tony. Sure, he was being billed as the son of the company's founder, but in reality that meant fuck all.
It might be a test. President Stane had taken particular interest in Tony in the past... from a distance, and never acknowledging that he'd been the benefactor behind Tony receiving undeserved second (and third and fourth) chances during his precarious academic career.
SE was a different story, though. Tony had been made to earn the job, beginning with a long probationary period. He assumed that he was reasonably competent at what he did; he'd received satisfactory marks in most areas on his last evaluation. At any rate, he'd never shown an interest in moving up the corporate ladder, so it was unlikely that he was being groomed for "bigger things".
Now, sending him to MDTECON could be a snub. President Stane's sudden inability to attend had coincided with SE missing the short list for an important regional contract...
An impression of something not-right crowded in on Tony's rambling thoughts. He froze, senses alerted, and caught a stealthy rustling sound. Whatever had made it was close, inside the room, and it was moving.
Burglar? Assassin?
"Reg?" Tony whispered.
"Anthony?" Smith whispered back after the space of a few pounding heartbeats.
"What are you doing?" Way over there on the wrong side of the room.
Neither of them seemed to want to be first to raise their voice. "Sorry, I thought you were asleep."
Like crawling into bed with Tony wouldn't have woken him? "I'm awake now, so get your ass over here and make it up to me," he hissed, throwing back the comforter in invitation.
"What? No-"
Tony said, "What?"
"I can't sleep with you."
"Can't?"
"You know what I mean."
"Can't is not the same as don't want to. One is like wow, thanks for the offer but you're not my type, I'll pass. The other is chickening out at the last second-"
"Anthony. Thank you for the offer, but I pass."
Tony thought he would sound angry, not... deflated. "Then why are you in my room?" His expression probably matched. Maybe he didn't want to switch on a light after all.
"I wanted a window." Smith groped in that direction until he found the heavy curtains, parting them to reveal a slice of glittering urban night.
Bullshit. He hadn't been caught near the full-length glass -- or the bed for that matter. "There're windows all over. You didn't need to come in here to peep at the neighbors."
"Couldn't see over the balcony and didn't want to stand outside in my underwear." Smith beckoned, "There."
Tony slid out of bed and crept to Smith's side. "This had better be good. What am I looking at? Oh." Twenty floors above the street, it was difficult to tell how many emergency vehicles made up the cluster of flashing red lights. More than one and less than five was Tony's guess. He lost interest as soon as he realized they were stopped a couple blocks north of the hotel.
"It doesn't appear serious." Smith released the curtain and edged around Tony to leave. "I apologize for disturbing you."
~~~~~
Five a.m. came as a rude surprise. Tony didn't get the chance to come online slowly in a nice hot shower; excitement snapped him wide awake before he could even reach the snooze on his alarm. He followed the aroma of fresh coffee to the outer suite, where he discovered Smith on the balcony, of all places.
Even though there was plenty of room, Smith scooted left to make more when he heard the sliding door open behind him. He didn't turn or look back, just assumed that Tony was coming outside to join him.
The sky was just beginning to think about lightening. Tony stepped up to the railing, close enough to rub elbows with Smith and steal some of his body heat. "It's not so bad out here," he lied. He was shirtless, dressed in thin sleep pants to Smith's workout sweats.
"Give it a minute for the wind to get to you."
"Maybe it's a little nippy," Tony allowed.
"Mmhm."
"Did you get any sleep?"
"Did you?" Smith asked.
"I'll live."
Nodding, Smith headed back inside.
So that's how it's going to be.
Deprived of his windbreak, Tony stuck it out for several more minutes on pure stubbornness before scurrying for that hot shower. He ran through his presentation again over a light breakfast, while Smith pressed the lingering travel wrinkles from Tony's suit.
The dark wool number was another detail that had been settled last-minute, through a tailor referred by Ms Potts. The ensemble was flashier than Tony would have chosen -- would have been confident choosing -- for himself, but it had been hard to argue with SE footing the bill. Even if he blew the presentation he would at least look the part, upholding SE's image on the international business stage.
That thought was less comforting than it should have been.
Dressing was simple, applying the finishing touches was not. After four failed attempts to get his tie exactly straight, Tony gave up. Wandering into the main suite, he found Smith polishing dress shoes with the single minded ferocity of a parade ground veteran.
"Marines?" Tony guessed.
Smith shook his head, still refusing to give that much away.
"I'm not going up for inspection, you know. I don't need the super deluxe mirror finish that will let anyone standing near me to look down and see straight up my nostrils."
The brush in Smith's hand slowed. "No one will be looking up your nostrils, Anthony."
Did he mean that literally nobody would bother, or was that one of those indirect compliments? He could have just said, Nice slacks, the cut really flatters your ass.
"Did the military teach you what to do with one of these?" Tony waggled the tie. "Or did bodyguard school include valet lessons on the side?"
Smith wiped his hands clean on a rag. "Don't wrinkle it, give it here."
Tony waited until Smith was up close and personal, smoothing the tie around Tony's neck and positioning the tail. "Out of curiosity... have you ever slept with a client?"
The expression of focus deepened to a slight frown of concentration, and Smith fumbled the initial crossover. "Unprofessional, Anthony."
"I notice a distinct lack of denial."
"I have never slept with a client."
"But there have been offers. You've been tempted before."
"Hold still."
"I'm not mov-"
"Stop talking," Smith said, shaking out the failed first knot and starting over. His knuckles grazed Tony's throat.
Tony sucked in a slow breath. "What about former clients? I'm not suggesting- That is, tomorrow evening you're going to dump me at the airport and I'm going to get on a plane and we'll never see each other again. But hypothetically, if by some bizarre chance-"
"I've never been tempted to strangle a client with their own necktie before, either."
"Wow, now who's being unprofessional, Mr Bodyguard?"
"Anthony," Smith almost begged.
When was he going to come out and just say it? I'm not into guys or It's none of your business or even Having checked you out on multiple occasions, I've concluded that I wouldn't let you blow me if we were the last two people on Earth.
Oh, there was a thought. Smith using the tie to bind Tony's wrists behind his back, then pushing him down to his knees and-
"Finished."
"Yes. Well..." That was only the beginning; from there, the fantasy could progress in a dozen different ways. A veritable flow chart of future wank material.
Smith said, "No, I'm finished." He straightened the tie to his satisfaction, slowly skimming his hand down its length -- and Tony's chest -- before turning away. "You're on your own with the shoelaces."
"Fair enough," Tony mumbled. Yeah, use knotted shoelaces on the wrists, then the tie becomes a blindfold...
~~~~~
Over the next hour, Tony caught himself preening in whatever reflective surface caught his eye. The suit really commanded attention, his hair was behaving this morning, the beard was on the rakish side of scruffy, and Smith made the ultimate accessory in his understated I-could-fuck-you-up glory. The whole package gave Tony a boost of confidence that he didn't quite deserve, but was determined to milk for all it was worth.
They'd arrived at the hall early enough to set up and do a thorough equipment test. So far so good, although Tony almost would have welcomed a minor problem just to kill some extra time.
Aside from the spotlit stage, the hall was still dark. Tony couldn't see much beyond the first few rows of seats, but he knew that Smith was out there somewhere. Was it too much to imagine he could feel the man's eyes on him? Probably not. Observing from the shadows was part of the job description.
"Mr Stark?" came a voice over the speakers. The AV tech, calling down from her station. "You're all set."
Tony waved in acknowledgment and hopped off the stage. Smith met him in the wings, styrofoam coffee cup in each hand.
"When did you...?"
"During the projector test," Smith said. "It might be a little cold by now."
Caffeine was caffeine as far as Tony was concerned, especially given the night he'd had. "Thanks."
"Try not to spill it on yourself."
"You know... I was going to be fine until you said that," Tony grumbled.
Smith produced a straw and held it out to him.
"Really."
"Easier than swapping shirts in the bathroom."
Straw it was. "Voice of experience? How does that even work, with the almost inevitable size difference?"
"Not well," Smith smiled.
A demonstration might be in order, later.
Tony motioned to the empty floor. "Might want to claim your seat early. This is going to be a sell-out presentation." No, it wasn't. Hell, given a choice between sleeping in and listening to an hour long SE sales pitch this early in the morning, Tony's ass would still be in bed. He'd be lucky to have any audience at all to watch him fuck something up.
"I stay by the stage," Smith explained. "Widest range of vision, best view of potential trouble. I need to see it coming; reaction time is critical."
"Oh." That made sense, although Tony had been counting on Smith sitting front and center -- a friendly face to speak to in the crowd. Or not-crowd. Appallingly thin scattering of spectators?
"Anthony, you'll do fine." Smith sipped his coffee and let his gaze drift away. After a moment he added, "It'll all be over soon," in an oddly detached- no, distracted manner.
He probably meant the job. He was probably thinking ahead to his next client.
Tony refused to ask.
~~~~~
How sad would it be to bribe a member of the audience to throw their shoe at Tony just for a chance to see Smith in action?
~~~~~
Tony couldn't bear to watch the audience assemble. He hid in the wings, anchored by Smith's unflinching presence. There wasn't enough room to pace, but he tried for a while anyway, until Smith cornered him and took him by the shoulders and squeezed.
"Ow. Wait, actually... could you do that again? A little to the left. My left."
"Look at me, Anthony."
The little sound Tony made, somewhere between a whimper and a groan, summed up his mood nicely.
Smith squeezed again, hands spread so that Tony could feel the indent of every finger. "You're gonna be fine," he repeated.
"You don't know that."
"You look great, you know the presentation inside and out... you're gonna knock 'em dead."
"I want that in writing. All of it. I want a guarantee-"
"No time," Smith said, shuffling them around and lining Tony up with the stage. "That was your introduction. You're up."
Tony gulped and stepped out into the spotlight. His mic went live with the flip of a switch.
At least there were people in the audience. Not many, but enough for a modest round of applause.
"Distinguished guests, esteemed colleagues..."
Maybe this wasn't going to be so bad. He hadn't frozen up or forgotten his opening lines. In fact, addressing a bank of blinding lights was better than being able to see past the edge of the stage.
"...an industry-recognized leader, whose innovative approach..."
Even President Stane would have had trouble with that line.
"...we don't intend to overtake the other guys, we're here to blow them out of the sky. I present, the latest in our Freedom line, the multi-seeker, variable launch mode Interceptor."
Technically it was a whole system, not just a missile. Or, as Smith had pointed out: Interceptor is a missile type, not a proper name. And Tony had had to explain: They're doing the alphabet thing, I don't know. Hurricane was a literal disaster, never reached production. What else were they going to call the next one, Iguana? Not a lot of hardcore naturey words starting with 'I'.
Hurricane was also a fighter plane.
And probably much more deserving of the name than a small reconnaissance drone with an effective top speed of two miles per hour, Tony had said.
Next came the deluge of technical specs, fired at the audience with the speed and comprehensibility of a disclaimer squeezed into the last half second of a pharmaceutical commercial. Tony's tongue was in a knot by the time he reached the end, but he didn't need to consult his cards even once. Apparently his brain was more adept than he'd realized at capturing and regurgitating useless numbers.
Drop the lights, cue the swell of inspiring yet nationalistically neutral music.
Tony backed up, making sure he was clear of the screen. He even threw in some exaggerated arm gestures, which hopefully came across as more smarmy game show host than deranged windmill. "Ladies and gentlemen, the Interceptor."
And... roll video segment.
~~~~~
"I can't believe I did it, I pulled it off. I did pull it off, right?"
"Excellent job, Anthony. Congratulations." Smith tried to shake Tony's hand, like he was getting out of this without at least a manly shoulder slapping half-hug.
"Game show arms, too much or okay? Were you filming me? Tell me someone was filming."
"There you are."
Turning to the new voice, Tony recognized one of the handful of people who'd hung around to watch him bluff his way through an informal Q&A. "Yes, er, mister...?"
Smith drew away from Tony, noticeably stiffening.
"General Ross." Even out of uniform, there was no mistaking the expectation of deference in the general's bearing. He transferred an unlit cigar to the corner of his mouth and took Tony's hand in a brief yet crushing grip. "That was a fine show. Good to see you following in your father's footsteps."
Tony hesitated. "Thank you, sir." Was it his imagination, or was Smith trying to melt into the background?
"Learn from his mistakes and you might turn into something -- if you know what I mean."
"I-" Ross' words sank in, stopping Tony cold.
Fuck it.
"I believe I do, sir."
"Then I look forward to seeing you on the test range in the future. Keep up the good work. Oh, and send my regards to Obadiah."
"Yes, sir," Tony said weakly.
Ross' dismissal seemed complete, but in the second before he turned to leave, he lifted his gaze over Tony's shoulder. "Soldier."
Smith answered, "Sir," like he had a stranglehold on the word and didn't want to let go.
Ross nodded once, "As you were." Then he was gone.
If Tony hadn't been holding his own breath, he might not have noticed Smith let out a long, controlled sigh. "So... Army?"
"Yes," Smith said, with that same agonizing reluctance.
Tony's curiosity vied with his distaste for the general's dig at dear old dad. "You know that guy?"
"By reputation."
"He seemed to know you."
Smith took Tony by the arm and began hustling him for the door. "We should clear the room -- they'll be setting up for the next presentation. We can talk somewhere else."
That implied there was something to talk about.
Smith waited until they reached one of the main convention thoroughfares and were absorbed into the bustle. Even then, he kept Tony close and the conversation low-key. "The general couldn't have recognized me. I never served under him, and I don't recall meeting him before today."
"It's probably none of my business," Tony said, allowing Smith a graceful exit should he need one. However, if he did bail, that alone would say something.
"It's hardly a secret," Smith said.
Except for the part where you haven't wanted to tell me about your former career.
"So, the general knew your father."
Tony returned with a shrug, "It's hardly a secret."
~~~~~
Buoyed by success, Tony was too wound to cut the day short. It would have been a shame to leave the convention without hitting the exhibit floor proper, so he and Smith were waiting when the doors opened for the day.
Tony's experience manning the SE booth at a couple local conventions hadn't prepared him for the sheer excess that MDTECON offered. The floor was packed with slick displays assembled by companies he'd never heard of, offering everything from tactical gear to next-generation reactive armor systems that ran into the millions for a single application.
"The vendors in this room could outfit an entire army."
"It does appear that way," Smith said, looking less dazzled than Tony and more eager to get his hands on some floor models.
"I bet you could buy a tank."
"If you were willing to go bulk, you could probably get a nice bargain."
Tony rubbed his hands together. "Let's make it a bet. If you can convince someone to sell you fifty tanks, I will... treat you to a nice dinner on the town."
Smith's expression turned thoughtful.
"I was, ah, thinking of doing it anyway," Tony hurried to explain. "I know it's your job, but I would have been lost without your help. It wouldn't be weird, like a-"
"You're on."
"Really?"
"You should celebrate. And I'd already planned to drag you out of the hotel for your last night in Madripoor."
"Well then." Tony checked the time. "If you lose, you treat me. You have two hours."
~~~~~
Within forty minutes, Smith had two vendors engaged in a skirmish over which of them could give him a better deal on fifty surplus tanks. The T54s were cheaper, but the M48s would be delivered at no additional cost.
It was hard to argue with free international shipping.
~~~~~
Tony dumped his plastic bag out on the sofa. "Damn, you made out like a bandit."
"How do you figure?" Smith asked, passing him the overflow bag.
In Tony's experience, convention swag meant logo-emblazoned pens and lanyards, stress balls, maybe a cheap flash drive or two. "Look at this shit. It's like we raided the locker room lost and found at a major police precinct." He picked through the pile. "Gun holster, belt pouch thing... is this a taser?"
"A model not typically sold to civilians, yes."
"Awesome, an expensive taser. Scale model of an ICBM, hopefully-not-live grenade, Rambo's bandolier, more holsters... you don't have enough concealed weapons until you've run out of places to hide them, am I right?"
"Pretty sure you scored this anti-taser vest from the booth directly across from the one handing out the tasers."
"Well, all this-" Tony held back a pair of handcuffs to shove in his pocket. "All this is yours. Airport security would shit itself if I tried to take it with me."
"Thanks, Anthony. The next time I break someone's nose with this bizarre octopus-shaped knuckle duster, I'll think of you."
"Aw Reggie, you say the sweetest things."
Smith tried to hide a grin as he began to systematically re-pack the haul. "I'd like to go home for a bit, drop this stuff off and grab some fresh clothes-"
"Yes, go," Tony said. "Take your time, as long as you're back for that dinner I owe you. I'll kill a few hours in the sauna or something."
"Okay. See you at eight?"
"Eight o'clock. Er... where am I taking you?"
"I'll make the reservation." Keys in hand, Smith snagged his overnight duffel along with the other bags. "There's a place over in Lowtown that's on all the tourist itineraries, but even the locals consider it worth the drive. The Princess, look it up if you like."
Might not be a bad idea, if only to help Tony decide what to wear.
~~~~~
As predicted, Smith did casual extremely well, in dark jeans and a formfitting turtleneck. More limited in his options, Tony had guessed right in ditching his jacket and tie. They closed up the suite and headed down to the garage, where Tony moved right for the SUV's front passenger door and climbed inside before Smith could object.
"I had a feeling you were going to do that," Smith said. His greeting upstairs had been cool, almost brusque -- he couldn't be nervous, could he? -- but he rallied now to give Tony a lopsided smile.
It only took Tony six tries to get his seatbelt latched. "I'd like to be able to talk without shouting at the back of your head. Plus, the view's better up here -- through the windshield, I mean."
"Lowtown is a rough neighborhood, but parts of it are almost pretty all lit up at night. I'll take you the scenic route." Even as Smith said it, he double-checked that he'd locked the doors.
Rough didn't begin to describe it. They'd driven maybe twenty minutes before Tony noticed a marked change in the architecture outside, sleek office towers and townhomes blending in the space of a few blocks into older tenement-style buildings. The crowded street-level shops were plastered with neon lights behind barred windows. Those buildings soon gave way to ramshackle warehouses as the road narrowed and sidewalks and streetlights vanished.
Smith nodded to the left with his chin, making sure to keep both hands on the wheel. "Over there a few streets is the bay." It was the first landmark he'd pointed out since leaving Hightown; and Tony realized that, for the same length of time, he hadn't spoken except in monosyllabic replies.
After a couple more minutes of silence, Tony finally asked, "Is everything okay?"
"Yes."
"You seem-"
"Tense?"
"I was going to say distracted."
"I'd hoped you hadn't noticed."
They couldn't be lost if Smith knew where they were in relation to the bay. Unless he was wrong... but he'd be using GPS if he needed it, right?
Smith's eyes stayed glued to the road. "The car's been driving funny."
Ride quality had degenerated sharply since they'd crossed the invisible border into Lowtown. "You mean it isn't just the hundreds of potholes?"
"I don't think so, no."
"One of those bumps could have wrecked the alignment. I'd guess a flat tire, but this thing probably has run-flats."
"Affirmative." Smith slowed and put on his blinker -- not that there were other drivers around to see it. Then again, he was probably the kind of law abiding citizen who would signal turning in to his own driveway. "There's also a spare, and I'm afraid company policy says no driving on a flat unless there is a greater risk posed by not driving on the flat."
Had Tony called it or what? "You're going to stop and check it."
"Yes."
"In this delightful neighborhood?"
"I'm carrying a gun, Anthony."
"What about me?"
"You're staying in the car."
"What if someone out there also has a gun and decides to shoot at us?"
"You're staying in the bulletproof car."
"What if the car catches fire?"
Smith pulled into a clear area that might have once been a loading dock. "Anthony."
"Fine."
"We'll probably be able to press on for the club. Worst case scenario, we both wait in the bulletproof, highly unlikely to catch fire car until one of my associates arrives with a spare vehicle. So pass me the flashlight in the glove box."
"Is this a flashlight or a baseball bat?" Tony tested the metal monstrosity by pointing the blinding light straight at his face, as you do. "Ow."
Smith was too deep in responsible security professional mode to be amused. "Stay," he repeated.
"At least leave the keys so I can listen to the radio?"
Guess that's a no.
The car was so well insulated that Tony had to strain to catch the sound of Smith's deliberate footsteps, crunching on gravel. It was easier to follow the flashlight's beam as Smith circled the SUV once, then crouched beside the driver's wheel for a more thorough inspection. After a couple minutes he moved around the front bumper for tire number two.
Tony waved, trying to get Smith's attention. When that failed, he could have laid on the horn or pressed his face to the window, but texting was clearly the mature option. He pulled out his phone- To: Reggie. Message: Find anything yet? -and hit send before he realized that he had no signal.
Stupid dead zone. Should he delete or let the message send on reconnect and confuse the hell out of-
Something slammed against the rear of the car.
Tony's first thought was: accident.
No, he hadn't seen headlights or heard an engine. Whatever had struck him had been solid and heavy enough to rock the vehicle on its suspension, but there'd been no whiplash or breaking glass.
The flashlight's beam swept through the car, dazzling Tony's attempt to figure out what the hell was happening.
"Smith?"
The beam skittered away and disappeared. Tony's straining ears picked out a softer thump, Like a body, that was a body hitting the ground.
"Reggie? Everything under control out there?"
Any second, Smith was going to knock on the window, starting the hell out of Tony, and explain that he'd just wiped the floor with a hapless would-be car thief or something.
Any second now.
"Reg?"
No footsteps. There should be footsteps. Tony didn't think his breathing had grown harsh enough to drown out exterior sounds.
"This isn't funny damn it!"
Was it possible Smith hadn't noticed? No, not with the way the car had shuddered. He should be able to hear Tony shouting, too.
Tony reached over to punch the horn, but halted when he realized he might just succeed in drawing unwanted attention.
There -- Tony admitted the possibility that Smith had been taken by surprise and overpowered. Or maybe he'd had a freak accident, fallen and struck his head on the fender, and was lying on the ground in need of help. How long did Tony wait before he disobeyed and left the car?
He'd already waited too long. If Smith was hurt, Tony might need to drive him to a hospital. If Smith had been attacked, the assailant had access to the keys -- in which case getting out was no more risky than staying put.
Tony unbuckled and kicked his door open wide. "Smith?"
The flashlight was lying by the rear passenger tire, still on and shining up beneath the vehicle. Still no Smith; he must have dropped the light to... what, chase someone or something? Why not just switch it off?
No... he wouldn't be under the car.
Please don't be under the car.
"Smith?" Tony tried one more time. He was crouching for the light when he felt a sharp pain stab his hip.
What the...?
Falling forward on one hand, he groped with the other. There was an object, thin and cylindrical; even the slightest pressure let him know that the tip was embedded in his flesh, but he kept feeling until he reached something soft. Tufted fibers, short...
It was a goddamned tranquilizer dart.
"Oh, fuck."
How long did he have? Clearly not the seconds he'd come to expect from watching too many action movies, or else he'd already be face down in the dirt.
Tony yanked the thing out with a wince and stumbled to his feet. Adrenaline was probably helping, but he knew he wouldn't make it far if he ran. There was nowhere to run to.
The car. It wasn't secure, but it was safer than his other options. He dove inside, closed and locked the door.
His phone still had no signal, but maybe there was roadside assistance, a radio, sat phone, weapons... Pawing through the glove box, he tried to ignore the way his fingers didn't want to grasp things properly and his vision was beginning to fuzz around the edges.
No radio, no gun. Focus, he slapped his cheeks. Think.
Nothing beneath the seats.
Nobody approaching the vehicle that Tony could see.
Maybe Smith had gotten away -- or gotten far enough to dispose of the keys. Maybe he'd been able to get off a call for help, and all Tony had to do was wait it out. Just wait and hang on, hold on...
Just-
~~~~~