Disclaimer: I do not own Iron Man, Pepper Potts, Tony Stark, Gwyneth Paltrow or (sadly) Robert Downey Jr. Marvel owns some of them; the rest are owned by themselves. :D No infringement is intended.
A/N 1 - Written a while ago, after Iron Man 2. This was my first fic in the Iron Man universe.
A/N 2 - I...don't even know where this came from except...I had a dream. This isn't quite what I'd dreamed, but it's close.
Unbeta'd. All mistakes are my own.
"I'm trying to do right by Pepper." - Tony Stark, Iron Man 2
Pepper never intended to admit it to him, but she loved watching Tony Stark work. She thought he was at his sexiest when he was in the grips of manic creativity, tearing things apart, putting them together, then ripping them apart again; when he forgot to sleep or eat or bathe or stop and was completely focused on making whatever vision had captured his imagination a reality.
More than once she'd watched a droplet of sweat meander its way down his neck and wondered how he'd react if she retraced its path with her tongue.
Of course, the very real possibility he was covered in something that would quite likely kill her - or put her in the hospital - tended to prevent her from making her fantasy a reality.
That, and it seemed a little too kinky to be so aroused by a drop of sweat...not to mention that until very recently she didn't exactly have that kind of access to his neck. Although she was sure Tony wouldn't have objected.
She also never intended to admit it, but the things most people hated about Tony Stark were the things she (secretly) loved. His arrogance. His flippancy. His ego. His genius.
Although she didn't particularly care for his penchant for doing stupidly dangerous things, she had to admit she even loved his fearlessness. It had saved his life in Afghanistan. It had made him Iron Man. It was also what had finally made him kiss her on that rooftop and propelled them into this new aspect of their old relationship.
Now he was trying to be the lover he assumed she wanted. Asking how she felt. Reducing his time in the workshop so he could spend more time with her. Making the effort to remember her favorite - and not so favorite - things.
It was charming and adorably sweet, and she loved him for it. But she knew he wasn't going to change entirely. He was still Iron Man. More importantly, he was still Tony Stark.
He would still forget her birthday and she made a note to ensure she always had her prescription cream on hand for when he decided to feed her strawberries. He would still be gripped by inventive genius and spend days locked in his workshop - or destroying it and the entire house around them.
He would still be a media-hound; he would still attract and flirt with beautiful women. He would still party a little too hard and drink a little too much. He would still be irritatingly arrogant and reckless and foolishly risk his life - and she would still yell at him for scaring her so much.
He was still Iron Man, and she would still worry until he returned, battered and bruised with his dark eyes telling her she was the only thing in his life he wanted - no, needed - at that moment to bring him back to sanity after whatever madness he'd just faced.
She wouldn't have him any other way.