I've decided to try this story set. It's a list of small prompts that I felt that I should be dealt with sooner or later, and I figured it was later. All prompts come from Writing,com/apps

Also! I might throw in a couple of songfics here or there. Depending on how fast I can write these…

Prompt One: Write a story that includes fish sticks in some central way. Yup, that's right. Fish sticks. Frozen, fried fish sticks.

Disclaimer: I, OnAMission, do not own the prompt from which this story came, the characters in the story, or the small mention of a television show that went unnamed. Although, if someone were to offer me the chance to meet Tony Stark and get to see his amazingly AWESOME computer! I would definitely say yes. Now that you know there is no copyright infringement, On with the story!

What was that smell?

It was awful, whatever it was. That was sheer fact.

"Tony?" Pepper called out, laying her car keys on the table by the door, and taking off her jacket.

"He is currently in the kitchen Miss Potts," JARVIS voiced in that unmistakable British accent.

Her heels clicked on the wooden floor, through the living room and then under the archway to the kitchen.

Tony Stark was standing in front of his stove, back to his Personal Assistant, cooking.

Cooking.

He was cooking, which didn't register through her mind as a particularly good thing.

"Uh, Tony?"

Tony turned to face her, a smile brightening his face. The skillet he was holding turned right along with him, the light from the arc reactor glowing through his black t-shirt onto the golden looking sticks in the pan.

"Pepper! Are you early?"

She checked her watch. 7:43 A.M. Yes, she was early.

"Yes, Mr. Stark," she tried the sentence; it came out as more of a question.

Tony shook the sticks onto a plate that had been covered in a paper towel, "Sit Potts."

She sat on a barstool at the end of the countertop, and watched him put the pan and spatula into the sink.

"What have you concocted?" She asked with a small grin.

"Concocted? You make me sound like an evil scientist." Tony opened the fridge and pulled out a clear, purple bowl that had cling wrap covering the top.

"You're one bad flight test away from it," she winked. He knew she was kidding.

"Do you like fish sticks?"

"They're okay, I guess. Is that what you made?"

He nodded his head in answer and pulled two plates from the cabinet and a spoon from a drawer.

"When I was little, they were my favorite food. You could get me to do anything if you promised me fish sticks." Tony spooned some of the stuff in the bowl onto both of their plates.

"Does that still work?"

Tony let out a chuckle, "Not really. I make them myself now." He proceeded by sticking his tongue out at her.

"What else are you putting on the plate?" Pepper eyed the white glob that sat in front of her by a few fish sticks.

"Do you like vanilla pudding?" Tony asked while shoving a whole one in his mouth.

"Yes…"

"Then there shouldn't be a problem," he said through the fish. He closed his mouth and smiled, making the lines around his eyes wrinkle up.

Pepper dipped a fish stick in the vanilla pudding and stared at him, "And you've had this before?"

Tony swallowed "Nope, I'm waiting for you to test it first."

She took a small bite, and she didn't all together hate it, but she didn't love it either.

"It's okay…"

That was good enough for Tony to smother a fish stick in the pudding, and shove it in his mouth.

"I like it," he mumbled through the mouthful.

Pepper rolled her eyes, "Where did you even hear about this?"

"I don't know, I was surfing channels at like two this morning and stopped when I heard this British guy talking about 'Fish Fingers and Custard.' Well, I knew that fish didn't have fingers, so I figured those were just fish sticks."

Pepper listened to his explanation, taking another bite.

Tony scratched his chin, "And over in England, custard is just pudding. I think."

"So we are eating this at eight in the morning."

"There's no better time than the present Pep," he smiled again and grabbed his plate, heading back for the living room, no doubted down the stairs into the workshop all day.

To leave Pepper with the mess he'd made.

You know you want to review. You want to sooo bad. I can see your mouse inching toward the review button… Right down there.