I don't know why I did this. Fucking plot bunnies.

…...

"We need to talk."

Maybe Tony had become desensitized to the phrase from hearing it for every decision he made. Or maybe it had never meant too much to him, always sailing right by his ears as he devoted his unflappable attention to whatever idea he had. As long as Pepper knew him, he never seemed to be the sort to 'talk'. Speaking, he certainly did a lot of; it was near-impossible to shut him up, in fact. Conversing was another matter entirely.

"You're right," he said. He lay on the love seat, robe lazily hanging open and a drink in his hand. "Talking is a cornerstone of a healthy relationship, and we need to stop growing apart. Talk to me, Pepper."

She sighed, continuing to walk toward her boyfriend holding a beige folder full of papers. The clacking of her high heels echoed through the living room of Stark Tower's penthouse. "You do enough talking for both of us, but talking about how great you are doesn't foster a healthy anything."

"I talk about how great you are, too. It's a fair exchange. Drink?" He didn't sit fully upright when she took her seat beside him, but did move a little where he lazily half-sat, half-lay to get a better position.

"Another thing you do enough for both of us. No, thanks. But, these papers. I'd like to talk about-"

"My latest brilliant idea?"

"Your attempt at creating a bigger egofest than the Stark Expo." Opening the folder, she let a bunch of papers spill out, long, rambling text documents interspersed with high-gloss photo prints. "This is going a bit too far."

He took a long sip of his drink as she spoke, then let out a pleased breath. "It's the twenty-first centry. This is an incredibly profitable sector that many people with a thousandth of my fame attempt."

"You aren't a cat that looks like it's playing a keyboard."

"No, I'm a world-saving super hero who defeated two crazed madmen in power armor and flew a nuke into outer space to save the world from invading aliens. I deserve an action figure. Always wanted kung fu grip."

"It's not just an action figure, though. This is extensive and actually sort of worrisome. Do you realize how many items are proposed here?"

"Don't you remember that website I showed you, selling those Iron Man shirts? I thought about it and realized; I'm Iron Man. I should get to do that." Finishing his drink, he lazily got up off the loveseat and headed toward the bar. "Then I dug a little deeper. Buttons, mousepads, mugs. It's not just a lunch box, a toy, and a box of Wheaties anymore. Do they still make Wheaties, actually? It might be the crazed inventor approach to food I'm taking where I don't get much cereal, but I never hear anything about that any more." Fresh ice cubes clattered into the glass, followed the cracking as they were embraced by warm, amber liquor. "But, I'm getting ahead of myself. Iron Man cereal can wait until I have a solid hold on the brand where it counts. If merchandise like that works for people who haven't actually done anything, imagine the money we can make selling merch for someone who saved the world. Little kids could wear toy Iron Man masks that change their voices and wear Iron Man t-shirts."

"Just how many places do you want your face to be?"

Coming back to the couch, he stopped just in front of her, knees pushing out slightly to get himself level. His hand waved in the general area of her chest, fingers outstretched and palm running in quick, sloppy circles. "I'd like it to be somewhere around-

With a shocked, indignant look on her face, Pepper scoffed. "If you finish that sentence, I swear to-"

"Not like that." He settled back down and took a sip. "On a shirt. In fact..." He pulled a bag from beneath the cushion beside him. "Here. Try this on."

Gazing at the bag with confusion, she accepted it and started to open it. Inside was a black t-shirt with the face of the Iron Man suit on it. Big, attention-getting letters on both the top and the bottom read, "Iron Man. Saved the world, and now your fashion sense". "I wish you actually had been coming on to me," she said, putting the shirt down.

"What, you're not going to put it on?"

"No, I'm not. This is where I draw the line on feeding your ego."

"Well, I just figured since you were my girlfriend and an important part of my business, you would be supportive in this new business venture."

"You're asking me to wear your face around in public."

"I'm asking you to be a loving girlfriend willing to support me in life and give me a thumbs-up. I did save the world, after all."

"Are-do you realize what you're asking me? This is not a normal thing asked of girlfriends. Or secretaries."

"I would dispute you on that last part. I was thinking of a company-wide memo about slowly phasing in a new dress code for all Stark Industries employees."

"You're serious. Oh God, you're serious about this. You want to see your face on the shirts of everyone who works for you."

"Is it a problem?"

"Would you wear a shirt with my face?" she asked, crossing her legs and gathering up the papers, which had slid off in the direction away from Tony."

"Uh, actually I'm sort of known for being immaculately and sharply dressed at all times, so..."

"Oh, now I see. So it is an ego thing and not just being supportive."

"Well no. But, look at the shirt. It's nice. Business casual. Come on, you'd look great wearing my face like that."

"Oh, so my face is just not pretty enough for a shirt?" She started to draw away from him, and was a bit tempted to throw the shirt in his face and storm out.

"It is, it is. I just can't do t-shirts at press conferences for obvious reasons. Otherwise, sure, I would wear a shirt that has your face on it all the time."

She leaned in to him a little and smiled. "What would it say?" she teased.

"Pepper Potts. Er..." He looked at her and tried to think of the most damage control-worthy platitude he could think of to help smooth the situation out a little. 'Best girlfriend'? No, that was defining her by her association to him. 'Boosts my ego without wearing a t-shirt' was even worse in that regard. "Shining brighter than all the letters in Stark Tower."

"If only you could suck up with the same flair you self-aggrandize with," she said, taking the drink from his hand and taking a very tepid sip before handing it back to him. "But fine, you're forgiven." She leaned in closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder.

"So you'll wear the shirt?"

"Not a chance."

"What if I wear one with your face on it? We can be the most embarassing couple at next week's benefit."

With a roll of her eyes, she leaned in and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Just shut up."