AN: Here we go again. I'm hoping you'll enjoy this. I'm relying on you to tell me if this gets unrealistic because it is quite a different concept. I don't want to have the characters do or say anything they would never do. Tony and Pepper's relationship is, in my opinion, forever and always a rocky one. There will never be a perfect life for them with marriage and the whole shebang. Things with Iron Man, SI, and SHIELD are always putting them in danger and complicating things. They aren't your typical couple, and I think a lot of fics such as these can be impractical.

Anyways, I've said too much already. *zips lips*

Also, my other IM fic, The Key for Winding Up My Heart, is still in process. I've received a few reviews there as well because of the popularity of Mind and Hand. I haven't abandoned that project yet, but I need suggestions for it. If read that story, and you'd like to give a suggestion, PM me.

-O-O-O-

December, 2007

Yellow - Coldplay

-O-O-O-

"These or these?"

Pepper looked up from her paperwork in her lap to see Tony standing in front of her dressed to the nines: a pinstriped suit with black lapels, a red and gold tie around his neck over a crisp white button down. However, his shoes were the one thing about the wardrobe that didn't fit. They were both different. Pepper raised an eyebrow at him, and he gestured to his feet.

One shoe was a black and grey skate sneaker with a white sole. The other foot sported a black sneaker with red piping. Their respective mates hung in Tony's hand, hooked by their tongues with two of his fingers. Tony Stark was the only man she ever knew to ask her opinion on shoes, instead of the other way around.

She pointed her pen towards the grey sneakers. "Those."

He leaned forward, using her shoulder for leverage while he tugged off the rejected shoe.

"Is there any fuel in this joint?" he shot at a passing lighting assistant, who looked stunned like a deer in the headlights, trying to work out what he'd said.

"He means coffee," Pepper translated, "And yes."

"Get me some, would ya? Thanks, love." He shot her a wink before sauntering off towards the camera.

Pepper smirked and shook her head, watching him walk away. GQ had been hounding them for months for a photo shoot, and Tony's schedule was finally clear enough. Though, after this, he had a conference call with a company in Japan and a luncheon with Ballard Power Systems where he was expected to present a draft of a new, more efficient fuel cell, which he had yet to finish—or even begin.

She watched from her spot on the sofa, near the table stacked with various snacks and coffee for the crew. He was hamming it up for the camera, making silly faces, them serious ones, and a few that Pepper recognized from late nights spent wearing very little clothing as they worked their way through a bottle of wine.

After a few moments, she rose and prepared him a cup of coffee at the table. Two creams, and three sugars. Much too sweet for her own taste, but he insisted on drinking it this way.

In nearly ten years, she'd never been offended by anything Tony asked her to do. Some might look at the way Tony treated her as ill-mannered or indifferent. But this was her job, regardless of the status of their romantic relationship. Her duties ranged from arranging meetings, managing his schedule, preparing paperwork to making his coffee or picking up his lunch. Even the occasional dry-cleaners run wasn't beyond her, and she had lost count of how many times she'd handled his drunk party guests the morning after. She remained professional and sophisticated throughout it all. But one thing that irked her nerves, one thing that made her want to throttle him was the flippancy with which he treated the company. He was late for meetings, countless flights, sometimes purposely ignored the schedule she'd so meticulously organized. But she could never stay mad for long. She'd never had the propensity to yell or argue. Her anger—when applicable—was much more quiet and contained.

She turned from the table, pressing a lid to the paper coffee cup. Her designer heels clicked across the concrete flooring as she made her way over to him where he was getting his hair rearranged by a makeup artist. He batted her hands away when he saw Pepper coming.

"Oh, thanks beautiful." He took the cup from her hands and sipped it, testing the taste and temperature. Perfect as always. "Hey, could you do me one more favor?"

She nodded. "Sure."

"Join me over here." He tugged her forward in front of the camera. Her heel caught briefly on the white fabric laid against the floor, but almost as if he'd planned it, his lips caught hers when she fell against him.

"Great! Let's get some more of that!" the camera man asked, egging them on.

But Pepper pulled away, blushing. "No, I don't think so." She tried to make a break for it, but a camera flash caught her by surprise.

"Come on, Pep. Just a few." He took a long swig from his coffee cup before passing it off to someone to hold. His hand held tight to Pepper's making sure she didn't try and escape again.

"Oh, you're going to pay for this," Pepper sing-songed through smiling teeth, faking it for the camera.

"I hope so," he answered, tugging her closer by the hip and the camera shutter whirred again.

It was no secret to the world that Tony and Pepper had been exclusively dating for almost twelve years. She'd caught quite a bit of heat in the beginning. They were articles questioning her qualifications, insinuating that Tony had only hired her on a whim for his own personal pleasure. Even worse were the ones that had accused him of hiring her out of pity.

But over the years, they had become quite an iconic couple, almost as popular as Brad and Angelina. That wasn't to say that everything was always perfect. There had been several break-ups which never lasted too long. There had been that very nasty affair a few years ago, but the press had made things seem worse than they had actually been. The couple had resolved the issue long before the Associated Press had lost interest.

After a few more shots, some getting rather heated, Pepper hurried away back to her spot on the sofa. She heard Tony negotiating with the camera man which shots he would include in the magazine. That was something Pepper always admired about him; he was very defensive about what was and was not publicized about her.

The cameraman called it a wrap, and Tony and Pepper made a quick exit for the Bentley outside where Happy was waiting. Pepper typed away on her Blackberry, while Tony took a phone call from Japan.

There were often times like this, where both of them were completely absorbed in work, entirely separate entities. It didn't mean their relationship was weakening; it was just part of the job.

But today, as Tony communicated rapidly in Japanese with the business man on the other line, his hand came up to brush against her forearm before dropping to her thigh. She accepted the touch, but didn't respond, focused on the email she was finishing. It wasn't a seductive touch, but simple and tender.

She had tuned out the conversation he was having next to her, not that she could understand it anyways. But his fingers drummed against her thigh, trying to get her attention, and she looked up.

"What's in the books for February?" he asked, holding the phone against his shoulder.

Wordlessly, she bent to retrieve the tablet from the side pocket of her purse. Without releasing the hold on her phone, she tapped the fingers of her free hand against the screen until she reached the calendar. She slid across the months over to February, passed it to him, and went back to her phone. Working with Stark Industries meant she was always equipped with the latest technologies, and some that hadn't even been on the market yet. Long before Tony's decision that the company would reduce paper consumption, Pepper had kept an electronic schedule. It was much more compact that way, and easy to edit on short notice.

Just as they reached the gates of the mansion, he ended the call and handed the phone and tablet back to her. "I'm going to need the jet ready on February second for Japan. Take note of that."

She did so, quickly and efficiently before Happy even had time to stop at the front door.

"Thanks, Hap." Tony stood from the car, but bent to stick his head back inside. "Hey, Rhodey and Liz are coming over tonight, right?" he asked her.

"Yes, indeed they are." She nodded and smiled. Rhodey and Lizzie had married last year and Lizzie was already six months along with their first child.

"Cool. See you later." He slammed the door and blew her a kiss through the window. She shook her head and went back to her phone.

She was headed back to headquarters to meet with accounting and PR. Tony hadn't been bothered to attend one of those meetings in five years. But it was his fortune, his company, and he could have it the way he wanted as far as she was concerned.

She'd become accustomed to quite an upscale lifestyle because of her job. She never took it for granted, though, that she had a chauffeur almost anywhere—though he preferred the title of "driver" rather than "chauffeur," just as she preferred "personal assistant" over "secretary." She still drove herself most places, except when it was more convenient to call for Happy.

Designer suits and shoes had become the norm, and lavish excursions throughout the world. She'd visited nearly every continent now, either on business with Tony or on vacation with him.

Over the past ten years, things in her personal life had changed dramatically. Both of her parents were lost in a car crash five years ago. Peter had been gone more than ever; after the events of 9/11, he'd felt it was his duty to re-up. He hadn't been home for three months, and that was only for one week's time. But he had permanently moved to California after their parents' death, only a few miles away from Pepper herself.

Happy pulled up to the building that housed her office, and she stepped out, telling him thanks and to have a good day. She enjoyed Happy's company. The two had gotten rather close over the years, but their conversations nowadays were few and far between. Things were always busy and Tony always had one thousand things going on at once.

Her meetings filled up the rest of her day, and she took her own car back to the mansion around five o'clock. When she arrived, Tony was in his workshop, as per usual. She didn't bother to disturb him and began to prepare dinner.

When she'd first moved from LA to Malibu, in order to be closer to him after taking the job, Tony had insisted she live with him. But she needed a place of her own, time to herself. If she had to spend every waking hour with the man, she might just tear his head off. But overnight stays at the mansion were frequent, and she saw her own place only three or four times a week. He'd even come to stay over a few times, but she got the sense that he didn't like to be tied down to a strange place that wasn't his own. She assumed it was an old habit he'd picked up back in his glory days as a playboy in college. He preferred to stay at his own place when taking a girl home, that way he could keep the dominant hand, and make her leave whenever he felt fit.

The girls had stopped—or at least their frequency had hit a steady decline since they began dating. But the alcohol was still a constant battle. Countless times she'd have to pick him up off the floor after one too many drinks, or drag him home from a party, and cover his rear once the press wanted answers. She'd seen the mansion in various states of disarray: broken glass, slashed furniture, people passed out in the yard. There had even been one morning when she arrived to perform her usual damage control and she'd found the Steinway grand piano completely smashed right down the middle, and she'd yet to work out how they could've managed that one. She'd walked in to the middle of one too many couples in the throes of passion in one of the guest rooms.

Customarily, she'd go home to her own apartment when Tony threw these parties, once the fun became a little too wild for her taste. Then, always prompt, at eight AM sharp, she'd see them all out the door with a complimentary handful of aspirin and a bottle of water.

Her reverie was broken when Tony's hands came to rest on her waist, leaving grimy fingerprints on her beige colored blouse.

"Gee, thanks," she sighed, looking down at the motor oil stains.

"No prob. What're ya cooking, good looking?" He reached over and grabbed a slice of tomato from the cutting board she was working at.

"Chicken alfredo and salad. Do you think you can manage putting the bread in the oven?"

He wasn't listening, or at least pretended not to be, and pulled a Gatorade from the fridge.

"Did you go to your luncheon today?"

He gulped the first half of the bottle down before answering. "What luncheon?"

She groaned and began furiously chopping at the lettuce. "Are you serious? There's a schedule for a reason, Tony. Can I not leave you alone for one day and expect you to get things accomplished?"

"Hey," he said, pointing the top of his sports drink in her direction, boosting himself to sit on the black marble counter, "I got a lot of stuff done today. I cleaned out the fuel lines on the Audi, replaced the rotors on the hot rod…"

"Something not pertaining to cars would be nice…"

"Oh!" He said, holding up a finger proudly. "I updated JARVIS's software. It was horrible. I went three whole hours without someone to talk to."

"Oh, you poor baby."

He pointed at her lettuce, now in tiny little bits from her manic chopping. "If you wanted that stuff that small, you might as well just pull out the blender and hit puree."

With a huff, she tipped the cutting board into the sink, washing the wasted vegetables away. "I'll call them tomorrow and try to reschedule. And I will make sure you go this time."

"Mmm…I love it when you're forceful…" he drawled, taking another swig of his drink and pulling her between his knees with his free arm. She propped her hands on his shoulders, inspecting his dirty face. His goatee was smeared with motor oil, and two identical smudges of grease above his eyebrows indicated that he'd been in deep concentration. He had a tendency to use his thumb and forefinger to rub at those areas when he was thinking.

"You smell," she told him.

"I love you, too," he quipped.

She pulled away from his grasp and went back to chopping vegetables for the salad. "Go take a shower. Rhodey and Lizzie will be here at eight."

He leapt off the counter and exited the kitchen, but not before giving her rump a quick, affectionate squeeze.

-O-O-O-

"Sir, Colonel Rhodes and his wife have arrived," JARVIS's staunch English voice informed them at eight on the dot.

Pepper was first at the door, ushering them inside, ooh-ing and ahh-ing over Lizzie's protruding baby bump.

"Women," Tony sniffed, nodding towards where Lizzie and Pepper were on the sofa, cooing over the ultrasound pictures.

"I'm not going to lie, man. I went shopping with her for the nursery yesterday. I think I might be getting sympathy pains," Rhodey said, handing a bottle of champagne over to Tony.

"Don't tell me you're sprouting a uterus now," he replied, shoving the bottle in the ice bucket on the dining room table.

Ten years had completely changed Tony's feelings towards Rhodey. He couldn't quite put his finger on the moment, but because he'd been so close with Pepper, the two had fallen naturally into friendship.

"I'm telling you. Kids change things. You and Pepper have been together how long?"

"Twelve years," he said, leaning his palms against the table, staring over at the redhead and her friend. Now they two women had struck up a conversation about stretch marks and tea tree oil.

"Has she ever said anything to you about marriage or kids?"

"Now I know you've got a uterus. Are you sure you aren't the one that's pregnant? There's a guy I read about in Arizona…"

"Miss Potts, the bread in the oven is ready," JARVIS's voice interrupted, and Pepper rose form the couch to fetch their dinner.

-O-O-O-

After a few glasses of champagne and apple juice for Lizzie, the couple left for home.

With their friends gone, Tony and Pepper retired to the couch, watching television. Tony curled up against her from behind. His hand ran along her abdomen, slipping under the soft silk of her blouse, running against her even smoother skin. He'd had an idea rolling around in his head all night, but he wasn't quite sure how to get it across to her yet. Twelve years was an immense amount of time to be devoted to one person and practically statistically impossible for him. He'd wanted to take a step forward, but he wasn't sure in what direction. Tonight had confirmed it. He just needed to find the right time.