“I can’t do this,” Kendis said as she closed her eyes. They took a deep breath and then another. ‘In and out,’ she thought to herself as she tried to force some type of calm. But why in the hell did Kendis think this was a good idea?

Kendis was no stranger to the red carpet, but this was the first time she had stepped out after her transition. Kendis heard the crowd’s roar and cameras’ snaps, muffled by the limousine doors.

Tony turned to her and squeezed her hand. “Say the word, and I’ll have Happy turn us right around.”

‘Remember why you are doing this,’ Kendis thought to herself. She was doing this for Tony because she loved him, and being part of his life meant a life under a camera lens. But more importantly, Kendis was doing this for herself.

The boy who lived was dead. In truth, he died the moment Voldemort had cast the killing curse, and in his wake, Kendis stood. She was done running from herself, and there was no other person Kendis would rather have beside her than her husband.

“No,” Kendis took a deep breath as she squeezed his hand. “We’re doing this.” 

“Tesoro, look at me,” Tony said, his voice uncharacteristically serious.

Kendis opened her eyes to meet Tony’s concerned gaze. “I can delete all my posts on Quickpix. I can put out a statement that I was trolling the public. Just say the word, and it’s done.”

Kendis felt her heart swell inside, and she couldn’t believe how lucky she was. For all the rumors that swirled around Tony and his constant bluster that he didn’t do emotions. In the end, she was grateful that she had married a good man. A man who was worth every bit of the struggle and challenges she faced ahead.

“I’m okay,” Kendis nodded. “Let’s go.”

“You sure?”

Kendis gave him a small smile. “Sure.”

“Shit! I forgot.” Tony said as he scrambled in his suit pocket.

“What?” Kendis asked, bewildered.

Tony took out a small box, and her heart started to pound. “Is that—”

Inside, she found earbuds that, unlike the typical white, matched her golden brown skin.

“I know loud noises can stimulate you, so I whipped up a little something.”

Kendis blinked, feeling her eyes sting with tears. They would not cry. They were pretty sure that Faiza would cheerfully murder them for messing up her hard work. Not to mention what Samantha, Pepper, or Marco would do to Kendis.

“I love you,” Kendis smiled softly at him as she took the earbuds and put them in her ear.

” The earbuds employ targeted auditory filtration using adaptive signal isolation. It selectively amplifies desired vocal frequencies while actively suppressing irrelevant acoustic input,” Tony explained excitedly. “The interface operates at near optical transparency—”

Kendis put a finger to his mouth. “Thank you.”

Tony kissed her finger, and she giggled as she moved it. 

“Ready?” Tony asked as she retook his hand.

Kendis took a deep breath and sighed. “Ready.”

“Just follow my lead and let me do the talking, amore mio.”

Then, Tony knocked on the partition, and a moment later, Happy was opening the door. Kendis was so grateful for the earbuds as she could see how frenzied the crowd had become as Tony gracefully got out of the car. 

Tony slid on his blue sunglasses and waved at the crowd; the cameras were rapidly flashing.

Kendis scooted to the door, and he turned to offer his hand. Her heart was pounding as she blinked against the blinding lights, and Tony helped her out of the car.

The earbuds made the screaming bearable as Tony and Kendis walked onto the red carpet. But in the time between her panic in the car and the time she stood beside Tony, her post-war media training snapped back into place.

“It’s like riding a broom,’ Kendis thought hysterically to herself as the paparazzi screamed their directions and questions as the cameras flashed. Kendis was suddenly thankful that she had put her foot down about not wearing heels.

It would be impossible to maintained her quiet, elegant mask if she tripped over the jumpsuit’s train. They thanked Merlin that they put their foot down about heels.

Kendis followed Tony’s directions as they made their way down the red carpet. Posing and following the shouted directions of the photographers.

Several reporters stopped them. Even with the earbuds in place, the lights from the cameras were overwhelming.

And she had a feeling that by the end of the night Kendis would once again have to spend sometime in a dark room to destimulate. But for the most part, Kendis just stood beside Tony and did her best to play the part of his pretty arm candy as he charmed the reporters. And thankfully, most reporters spoke to her only to ask about her outfit and who she was wearing.

They were near the end, with only a few people left they had to talk to before they could make their way into the venue.

“Who is this charming young woman?” one reporter, an old Black lady, asked her with glee.

Kendis itched to correct them, but Kendis didn’t want to add more attention than they already had on them. And Tony dating someone non-binary would definitely cause an uproar.

“This is Kendis,” Tony introduced her with a sly grin.

“Is the lady from your Quickpix?” The reporter asked gleefully.

“Yes, and isn’t she amazing?” Tony gushed, and then, to Kendis’ surprise, he turned to kiss her softly on the lips. If anything, the crowd seemed to go even wilder.

Tony dodged most of the questions about his relationship, and the reporter finally moved on to questions about what Kendis was wearing.

The most hilarious incident was Lance Bannon from The Daily Bugle, who accused Kendis of being a home wrecker because Tony was a married man. It took Kendis a minute to realize the reporter was referring to the blurry photo someone had taken of Tony and Kendis when they were in Vegas.  

It took everything for Kendis not to laugh out loud at such a ridiculous theory. The truth was slapping Bannon right in his face, but the bloke refused to see it.

The rest of their time on the red carpet went by in a blur. Tony was sparse with any information about Kendis despite their best attempts. He dodged their barely veiled interrogation tactics with a charming smile and a quick quip.

As they neared the venue entrance, Kendis believed they were in the clear, but then a pretty, blonde woman in her late twenties appeared.

“Christine Everheart, Vanity Fair.” Everhart looked Kendis up and down, and her eyes burned with barely concealed scorn and jealousy.

“Hey.” Tony gave a sloppy hello.

Everhart’s glare did not even faze Kendis. She spent six years under the tutelage of Severus Snape. And this bird had nothing on her old potions professor.

“Mr. Stark, you’ve been called the da Vinci of our time,” Christine asked, as she turned to shove her recorder in his face. “What do you say to that?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Absolutely ridiculous. I don’t paint.”

“And what do you say to your other nickname? “The Merchant of Death?”

Merchant of Death? Kendis barely repressed a shiver. It reminded her all too well of the conversation she had with Death back in her study.

“Well, Ms. Everheart. It’s an imperfect world, but it’s the only one we’ve got,” Tony shrugged. “I guarantee you, the day weapons are no longer needed to keep the peace, I’ll start making more useful things like toasters or coffee machines.”

Everhart scoffed and said, “You rehearse that, much?

“Every night in front of the mirror before bedtime.”

Kendis bit back a laugh at Tony’s quip. He was such a cheeky bastard, and she loved that about him.

Everhart glared at him. “All I want is a serious answer, Mr. Stark.”

His smile changed to a harsh, determined expression. After Kendis squeezed his hand, Tony glanced at her gratefully, then faced Everhart. “Okay, here’s me being serious. My old man had a philosophy: peace means having a bigger stick than the other guy.”

“That’s a great line coming from the guy selling the sticks.”

“My father helped defeat the Nazis. He worked on the Manhattan Project. A lot of people would call that being a hero.”

Everheart snorted, “A lot of people would also call that war profiteering.”

Tony took a step forward and grabbed her recorder and spoke directly into it.

“Tell me, do you plan to report on the millions we’ve saved by advancing medical technology or kept from starvation with our intelli-crops? All those breakthroughs, military funding, honey.”

“Tony,” Kendis called out to him. She could tell that he was he was really getting upset. She hadn’t known him long, but it didn’t take much to pick up on Tony’s daddy issues and how fiercely protective he was of his father’s legacy.

For people like Christine, things were black and white. It was easier not to see the shades of gray, especially with things like war. Kendis knew from personal experience that war was never that simple.

Kendis saw that other people were recording Tony and Everhart’s argument. She wouldn’t put it past a snake like Everhart setting this up so she could get a headline.

Christine Everhart reminded her too much of Rita Skeeter.

Kendis also saw how Everhart was looking at Tony. She wasn’t normally the jealous type, but it was the total disrespect to flirt with her husband when she was standing right there. And yes, it was illogical. There was no way Everhart knew they were married, but it was very clear that Kendis was Tony’s date. 

The reporter would look lovely throwing up some bat boogeys.

But Kendis was proud that Tony didn’t seem to notice at all. In the end, Tony just took a deep breath, and his earlier cocky mask slipped back in place. He squeezed Kendis’s hand again and then wrapped his arm around her. 

“You have the night you deserve, Ms. Everhart,” Tony said. He turned around and walked away, pulling Kendis along with him. Kendis briefly looked back to meet Everhart’s frustrated glare. Kendis smirked at the reporter as she followed Tony into the venue.