|Waking Up in Vegas
Author: CrazyKatChan07 PM
Tony and Pepper go for a weekend vacation - and end up with a little more than they she wanted. Think The Hangover slash Katy Perry. Strong language. COMPLETE.Rated: Fiction T - English - Humor/Romance - A. E. Stark/Tony & V. Potts/Pepper - Chapters: 4 - Words: 10,386 - Reviews: 41 - Favs: 67 - Follows: 33 - Updated: 08-02-10 - Published: 07-12-10 - Status: Complete - id: 6133933
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
AN – Totally thought of this when I heard Katy Perry's song "Waking Up in Vegas" and how much it was really possible for the ever-cute Pepperony.
This will be a half song-fic – more using the lyrics to show the connections I had in my brain. There will be some chorus cut out and some mashing of some things.
And yes, this will be a semi-oneshot. It may take more than one chapter to throw out. Think of The Hangover, but with pop lyrics.
Waking Up in Vegas
/…you gotta help me out
its all a blur last night…/
Bright, horribly bright –
That musky, sweaty smell I so loved in the morning, his warm skin on my face –
The scratching of…cheap carpeting?
I was up and noticing how horribly my head was throbbing in seconds. The cheap carpeting was that of a car – a limo, to be exact.
And I was naked and sleeping in the floor of said limo with Tony.
Our only blanket was what looked like a tuxedo coat of his.
Weren't we supposed to be in a hotel room at Caesars? With a glorious view and a Jacuzzi in the middle so we could see the strip?
I knew coming to Vegas was a bad idea when Tony had begged me to come with him as a 'tiny vacation'.
Now I couldn't remember what the night before had been like past the 3 glasses of wine at the Delmonico.
"Tony!" I pushed him soundly, rolling him from his side onto his back and into the cold.
Just as I expected, he too was nude, and seemed a little less willing to wake up than myself.
All he did was groan and whine as he popped open his eyes.
My immediate estimation? He was more hungover than I was.
"Good…morning." He grumbled as he stared at me through his bloodshot eyes. I wasn't worried about him – he did paperwork and ran meetings half drunk. A hangover wouldn't be a problem.
"Whose limo?" He groaned out as he sat up, scratching around his chest piece without thinking about it. He seemed to do that every morning.
"I don't know. You tell me." I grumbled as he leaned over at least to kiss my cheek. Somehow I devised that this was some kind of joke played by him, and that we were just sitting outside of the hotel.
It seemed a bit wrong when I did look out – and saw that we were in a parking lot of some limo service that seemed to be outside of town. There was a line of limos off to our left and right, but beyond that – nothing really. Dirt, mountains and tumbleweeds.
"Tony. How did we get in a limo?"
"I don't remember anything past…uh, the club after dinner." He was rubbing his face with his hands, surely trying to fix the burning in his eyes from the long night.
"Well, someone has to find out how we got here. And…if I see right…I don't have any clothes in here."
I didn't. My bra and underwear – oddly, both cream colored and lacy – were draped over one of the leather seats. It looked like he had a full suit off to his side – bow tie included.
"Huh. At least I got lucky."
"What? Don't hit me, I'm just telling the fucking truth!"
"Go see if anyone is in the office. If we have to pay to go back, just give them my card-" I dug around in the tiny white purse I had off to the side – also, something I don't remember ever having – and handed him my credit card.
Normally he would refuse for me to pay for anything, but he didn't say much as he stuck the card in his mouth and pulled on the dress pants and tux shirt he had laying around before clamoring out of the limo, leaving me alone to put my under garments back on.
/…we need a taxi
cause youre hungover
and im broke…/
God, I hate the desert sun.
And these clothes smell funny…
What the hell is all over them? No, first priority, figure out where the fuck we are.
I walked over to the decent looking office building and walked right in the door. First thing I noticed – the clock on the wall said 9:47. Okay, so it's damn early for me to be awake and not unlike me to be this hungover on a Saturday.
"Can I help you, Mr. Stark?"
"Uhm, yeah, hi. …You know me?"
"Yes, sir. You rented a limo for…'as long as I fucking need it' at 5:13 this morning."
This kid was already grating on what nerves I had from the pounding headache and the ever-present need to evacuate whatever was NOT in my stomach. He couldn't have been more than 20, and apparently was pulling a long night shift. I'm sure he was really happy – just like me.
"Look, uh, can we get…said limo, to take us back to Caesars? I have a card…" I pulled it from my pants, but the kid held up his hand.
"Sir, if that's Miss Potts' card, it was declined this morning as well. I was told that if you did not appear from the limousine within the next hour that I would have to have the police escort you out. The only reason I did not before is because we know you can pay. Now, do you have another form of payment?"
How much had she charged that she couldn't even rent a limo?
"Sure. I'll go get my wallet."
I walked straight back to the car we had designated as 'our own' apparently and crawled back in to sit in the back seat. Pepper was sitting in another with my jacket wrapped around her front side to cover herself.
"Well, we won't be using your card – out of money. Oh, and we got here at 5am." I said as I handed it back to her and reached to feel for my wallet in my jacket.
"WHAT? What the fuck did we buy with MY card?"
/…I lost my fake id
but you lost the motel key
spare me your freaking
now don't blame me…/
"You're looking at me like I know what YOU bought with YOUR card. I remember as much as you do. Are you going to let me look for my wallet or what? We can just sit here – I don't mind the view, I mean, you do look nice in –sniff- lacy underwear."
I yanked the card back from his hand and threw his jacket at him, throwing it over his head for him to pull off. Both of us irritable and hungover wasn't going to get us out of whatever mess this was. As I tucked away my card again, I realized my driver's license was gone. …where the hell would that have gone to?
"Don't blame me for this shit, you're part of it little miss prim and perfect! You're hungover just like me. And it's kind of fun to see – never seen this side of perfection before…"
"Can it, Tony. Give me your damn wallet."
"Oooh, now you're cursing like me too. Am I a bad influence?"
I took his jacket back too and wrapped it around myself before getting out the limo as well. His wallet was in the same place it always was in his jacket – in his breast pocket.
And sure I was in only underwear and hiding under my boyfriend's jacket – which smelled weird, I might add – but I had to see what was wrong with my card. Maybe they'd let me use a phone – because I had no idea where mine was – to find out what was wrong with my card.
"Good morning Miss Potts. Oh, I do have something for you in the back. Let me go get it."
"…Where's your rest room?"
"Down the hall and to the right."
"Thank you." I blushed horrendously. The boy behind the counter was cute, and here I am in my underwear. I'm sure he knew what was going on in the limo before we passed out too. That looked even better, I was sure.
The bathroom was well cleaned and only one toilet in a decent sized room and a nice looking sink. Apparently this was more for the primping than the actual act of use. I decided to wash my face off – I felt horribly sweaty and disgusting, mostly because it was so hot in that limo.
As I ran my hands over my face, I felt something cut my nose. What I saw in the mirror that caused it made me realize something.
"Miss Potts? I'm leaving your dress on the door if you want to put it on."
/…why are these lights so bright
did we get hitched last night?
dressed up like elvis
why am I wearing your class ring?.../
It was starting to warm up in that damn limo. When was she coming back? When she did, I wasn't expecting what I saw.
Pepper was wearing a full wedding gown, train veil and all.
As soon as she opened the door, she threw my jacket and wallet back at me, in that order.
"WE GOT MARRIED."
"Could you say that a little softer, it is a little early-"
She held up her left hand – and I couldn't help but laugh.
She was wearing my gold MIT ring.
With some tape it looked like underneath so it would fit.
"We're MARRIED, Tony. The license is in your wallet! We got married last night!"
It took her saying that for me to realize that I was wearing my father's wedding ring – which I wore all the time anyway on my right hand – on my left hand as well. How did I not notice that?
She climbed in and sat down far away from me. Maybe I didn't like hungover Pepper – she was bitchier than normal.
I opened my wallet to find a marriage license – from the Las Vegas Hilton – and both of our full names and signatures.
"Yeah. We are."
"Is that all you have to say? WHAT IF THEY CALL THE PRESS TONY."
"OW. Softer tones, too much liquor, remember?"
"Apparently, because we're married!"
"IS that such a bad thing really?"
As I looked at my wallet again , I realized another odd piece of paper sticking out of the Italian leather – a receipt?
As I pulled it out, I realized what kind of receipt it was –
It was our wedding receipt.
All 15,000 dollars of it.
And – charged to one Virginia Potts' credit card.
That wasn't what made me laugh. It was what had cost 15 grand.
The Starfleet Wedding at the Las Vegas Hilton – we had a Star Trek wedding.
And I didn't even pay for it.
"What's so funny, Tony?" She barked before taking the receipt from me. Her face afterwards? So fucking priceless.
That was probably why her credit card didn't work anymore. But I didn't care.
I didn't mind getting married by a guy dressed in Starfleet colors and tags. Pepper, on the other hand, apparently did.
I just believe even drunk she would 1 – let us have a Star Trek wedding and 2 – pay for it.
That made my damn day.
Apparently, behind the receipt was a picture of our wedding – us, plastered drunk, a guy in a red Starfleet shirt, and an Elvis.
Why the Elvis was there, I don't know, but this was getting funnier by the minute.
She did pull out another receipt and handed it to me.
It was from some place called Celebrations – and it was for 20 grand.
This, I at least paid for.
There were a few things on it. 3, to be exact. One I somewhat could understand to be 500 dollar shoes, I saw something that said veil –
It was the receipt for her current outfit. I bought her wedding dress, she paid for the wedding. That made sense. She probably, even drunk, felt bad that I had been paying for everything so she thought she would take the wedding tab.
"So. We got married at…" I had to look at the receipt for her paying for the wedding again "…4 in the morning. An hour later, we got the limo. Makes sense."
"Yeah, but WHY ARE WE MARRIED."
"OW. Loud NOISES aren't NICE to people with hangovers! How can you stand it yourself!"
"I'm not as hungover as you, Tony. I just look like it."
/…don't call your mother
cause now we're partners in crime
don't be a baby
remember what you told me…/
We sat in silence for a minute. I was too shellshocked to berate him anymore, and he didn't seem to care about it as much as I did anyway. Why didn't he care? What was more interesting than 'I got drunk and got married?'
"We shouldn't have come this weekend."
"Why not? It's already proved to be the most interesting weekends we've had since you decided to open up about your crush on me for years."
"You really can still be an asshole, you know that."
"You still married me. Besides, you're the one that said it."
"Put your money where your mouth is. Though, now that I think about it, it didn't make sense at the time…"
"What are you talking about, Tony."
"I remember you telling me to shut the fuck up and put my money where my mouth is. I think we were in a club…it was loud."
/…shut up and put your money where your mouth is
that's what you get for waking up in vegas
get up and shake the glitter off your clothes now
that's what you get for waking up in vegas…/
At that moment, a door to the limo opened and a driver crawled into the front seat.
"Where to, Mr. Stark?"