Spoilers: Pre-Iron Man 1, so no real spoilers.

Disclaimer: I'm only borrowing Tony and Pepper. I'll give them back. Eventually.

A/N: I know there are many other stories about how Pepper began working for Tony, but I couldn't resist writing my own take on it. :) Any similarities to other fanfics with the same theme are unintentional.

As always, I thank my Lord Jesus Christ for his incredible mercy and grace and his many blessings. I would be utterly lost without him.

Repartee

It took Pepper fifteen minutes to find a parking space. Fifteen minutes.

If she wasn't so ridiculously early, her interview would have ended before it even began, because no one wanted a personal assistant who couldn't even manage her own schedule.

But, thankfully, she was ridiculously early - she'd known how busy the Stark Industries' parking lot was likely to be and planned ahead. Of course, all that careful planning had nothing to do with her nerves, because she wasn't nervous. Nope, not at all. Really.

Taking one last deep breath, she checked her reflection in the rearview mirror. Her hair was pulled back into a sleek French twist, and her makeup was carefully understated with a lipstick that was just a shade darker than her natural color, a touch of mascara, and a little powder on her cheeks. Thankfully, both her make-up and her hair looked just as neat as they had when she'd left her apartment. Satisfied, she straightened the jacket of her gray business suit and smoothed out a few stray wrinkles in her skirt. She wanted to project an image of absolute professionalism - especially considering Tony Stark's reputation. She needed him to see her as a prospective employee, not a prospective…anything else.

Knowing that she was as happy with her appearance as she was going to get, she reached for her purse and her binder, then opened the driver's-side door.

It took her almost another ten minutes to reach the top floor of the Stark Industries building, but she still had five minutes to spare when she strode up to the desk and alerted the secretary of her arrival.

She fought down the urge to fidget as she took a seat in the lobby, setting her purse on the floor by her feet and placing her binder in her lap, her fingers curling around it automatically. It held her cover letter, another copy of her résumé, and several references. Stark Industries already had all of that on file, but she wanted to be prepared if they didn't have the documents immediately available for review.

Her eyes drifted to the wooden doors across the room, the doors of Tony Stark's office. They were surprisingly simple, almost plain despite the obviously high-quality of the wood - though she supposed, they might represent Howard Stark's taste, rather his son's. The Tony Stark she'd heard about in the news seemed partial to extravagance and excess in just about everything.

Of course, she imagined that he was under a great deal of pressure, so it was understandable that he needed to find…creative ways to unwind. Besides, it wasn't as though he didn't have the money to afford his lavish lifestyle. He could spend his wealth however he saw fit. (Those arguments seemed a little weaker after she'd Googled his name a few days ago, but she clung to them anyway.) In any case, she was determined to reserve judgment until she actually met the man. After all, the entertainment news media was notoriously unreliable.

They seemed to be wrong about one thing, at least - Tony Stark apparently was capable of keeping to some sort of schedule, because at precisely 1:00, the secretary told her that Mr. Stark was ready to see her.

Pepper adjusted her hold on the binder and picked up her purse, then stood and strode through those wooden doors as confidently as she could manage.

Unfortunately, it didn't take long for that confidence to wilt a little.

The office was massive - possibly bigger than her one-bedroom apartment - and the entire back wall was a series of windows overlooking the city beyond. The carpet was a dark blue, and the walls were covered in wood paneling, the same wood that had been used for the doors. Two large columns framed a sleek-looking black desk, and there, sitting - slumping, really - behind that desk was the man himself.

Tony Stark was wearing a rumpled, dark blue suit with a loosened gold tie hanging around his neck, and the white shirt beneath his jacket was unbuttoned at the collar. He was spinning in his plush, leather chair, pushing it idly with his toe while he stared up at the ceiling, his eyes hidden behind a pair of aviator sunglasses. His hair was sticking up at odd angles like he'd run his hair through it several times - or maybe someone else had - and day-old stubble marked the skin around his carefully-sculpted goatee.

Perhaps the entertainment news media wasn't so far off after all.

Squaring her shoulders, Pepper cleared her throat.

The chair stopped spinning, and Mr. Stark cocked his head at her curiously. A moment later, he was pushing his sunglasses down his nose, giving her an appreciative once-over that made her want to grit her teeth.

She gave him a tight smile in return. "Mr. Stark," she greeted. "I'm Virginia Potts. I'm here for my interview."

He was still staring at her.

"Hm? Oh, the interview. Right." He seemed to shake himself a little, then sat up straighter, taking off his sunglasses and dropping them on the desk with a careless flick of his hand. He waved at a nearby seating area. "Pull up a chair."

Pepper hesitated for a moment, then picked the chair closest to her and dragged it over to the empty space across from him. She sat down, tucking her skirt around her legs and setting her purse on the floor beside her. The binder she kept in her hands, however.

"Thank you, Mr. Stark. If you'd like," she began, "I have a copy of my résumé here, and-"

"Uh-huh," Mr. Stark said, cutting her off and motioning with his fingers in the universal gesture of "give it over."

Pepper pursed her lips faintly in annoyance, but opened the binder and pushed it across the desk for his inspection. He wasted no time flipping through it, skimming every page, the fingers of his free hand tapping the desk in a rhythm that only he seemed to hear.

Pepper folded her hands in her lap and tried not to let the silence get to her. It wasn't that hard…barely half a minute had passed before Mr. Stark was closing the binder and leaning back in his chair.

"So, Miss…Potts, is it?"

"Yes."

"I just have a few questions."

"Of course."

"Are you married?"

Pepper frowned. "No."

"Divorced?"

"No."

"Widowed?"

She arched her eyebrows at that, half-tempted to call up some crocodile tears just to see how he reacted to a crying, hysterical "recently bereaved" woman. The man had no tact whatsoever.

Professional, she reminded herself. She was a professional.

"No," she said evenly, "I'm not a widow."

"Are you seeing anyone?"

Okay, professional or not, this was just ridiculous.

"I don't see what that has to do with-"

"That's a 'no,' right? Because I'm taking it as a 'no.' What size do you wear?"

Her eyes narrowed. "If I were interviewing for a photo shoot that might be an appropriate question, but-"

"Have you done any? Photo shoots, I mean? You look like you could have. You're tall enough. Probably very photogenic."

His lips curled into a thoughtful smile, his gaze running over her figure again with blatant interest.

Pepper huffed, rolling her eyes. She had done some modeling in college to cover expenses, but she had no intention of telling him any of that. "Mr. Stark-"

"In fact, how 'bout a private modeling session, just the two of us?" He grinned. "Model anything you like. Though, personally, I'm partial to-"

"Mr. Stark," she bit out again, not allowing him to finish that sentence. She could already guess what he was "partial" to.

She took a deep breath and tried to get the interview back on track. "I graduated summa cum laude from Harvard, with a Masters in business. I've worked as a personal assistant for the last five years. Most recently, I worked for Mr. Abramo Costa, an artist whose paintings were exhibited in New York's Lehmann Maupin Gallery-"

"Uh-huh. That's all very nice, I'm sure. I just have one more question."

She grit her teeth. "Yes?"

"Do you have any plans in say, fifteen minutes or so? Because I have plans. Several of them. I'd like them to include you."

Pepper sputtered, her mouth opening and closing at the sheer audacity of the man.

Mr. Stark arched an eyebrow. "Something wrong, Miss Potts?"

Pepper felt herself flush, anger tingeing her cheeks pink, and her hands curled into fists in her lap as her control finally snapped. "Yes, something is wrong! You! You're ridiculous! If your ego was any bigger, it wouldn't fit in this room! I'm not going to be objectified by a pompous-" She caught herself just in time, some part of her still trying to cling to that professional image, "…by a man like you. You're lucky I don't sue you for harassment!"

Stark snorted at the obvious verbal editing. "No, tell it to me straight - what do really you think of me?" he drawled sardonically.

"Believe me, you don't want to know what I think of you, Mr. Stark. This interview is over. I withdraw my application."

She scooped her binder up from the desk and stood, grabbing her purse and heading quickly for the doors.

She had almost reached them when his voice called out to her once more.

"Miss Potts."

She spun on her heel, thoroughly prepared to give him another piece of her mind, but the words died on her lips when she saw the way he was looking at her. He looked…thoughtful, almost pleased, and there was something in his eyes, something that made him look like the shrewd businessman he was supposed to be, despite his disheveled appearance.

"The job is yours. You start tomorrow, 8am sharp. Don't be late."

Fin

A/N: Thanks again for reading, and I hope that you enjoyed it! Please let me know what you think.

Take care and God bless!

Ani-maniac494 :)