Guys, I really loved the response to I Want You to Love Me. I know that it's always awesome to see different minorities represented in works of fiction, but this showed me even more how important it is. Thank you so much for your response! I treasure every comment, even if I don't always reply. (I'm shy when I can't think of what to say, it's a thing.)

This fic takes place just a few hours after I Want You to Love Me. The title for both stories were taken from the lyrics of Keeper by Yellowcard, which is kind of my theme song for ace!Tony.

Thank you to AprilJoy for editing this story for me.

Warning: Really brief mention of past suicidal ideation. I don't know if that would be triggery or not to anyone here.

—§§§—

Rhodey is waiting for him as soon as he steps out of the elevator on the penthouse floor, but Pepper is nowhere in sight.

"Um," Tony says, frowns. "Where's—"

"She wants me to hear what you have to say first," Rhodey cuts in. "Because she doesn't want to get in another shouting match if it isn't really good."

If Tony hadn't just found the answers to questions he'd asked his whole life, he'd probably be more insulted than he is. He and Pepper haven't had a shouting match in more than six weeks, and for the record, Tony never started the shouting. He just… never knew how to avoid it. "It's good. Look—"

Tony's tongue betrays him and tangles in knots before he can get even the first words out, and the anxiety slams back into him like he calibrated the Mark V wrong. Because the Avengers, they're pretty much all shades of a Pride Parade, but Rhodey and Pepper are both about as straight as you get. If anyone's going to look at him like he's completely insane, it'll be the people who have known him to seem so sexually normal for more than a decade—in Rhodey's case, more than two. Maybe he's only got one chance at this. Maybe that chance passed five months ago, or maybe even years before that. He just doesn't have the words that can explain himself—

But he just found words for this, Tony realizes abruptly. They're in his back pocket.

So he mutely pulls out the flyer and hands it to Rhodey.

Rhodey takes it, but gives Tony a long, odd stare before actually looking down to read it. Then he frowns. "Is this from the parade that Pepper said you guys were going to?"

"Yeah." There. This is a safe—safer, anyway—place to start explaining. "Have you ever heard of asexuality?"

"Can't say I have," Rhodey says thoughtfully. "The absence of sexual attraction, huh?"

"I'm ace."

Rhodey's brow furrows. "And ace is—"

"Asexual."

Rhodey's lips curl up a little on the side, kind of amused, the expression he gets when Tony's making a joke that finally isn't actually going to blow up a car or something similar, and that's when Tony knows he doesn't get it. His heart sinks down to his toes and he's shaking his head before Rhodey even says, "You, Tony Stark, who went twelve for thirteen on the Maxim cover models, like, four years ago—"

"I was trying to be normal," Tony bites out, his voice shaking, and oh god, why did he think he could do this, why did he ever think he could do this—

"By becoming the biggest womanizer in the Western Hemisphere?" Rhodey says, the pitch of his voice rising in incredulity. That's the start of the panic voice, the voice of no Tony, stop it Tony, what are you doing Tony, keep your head down Tony, and that's just something he can't take right now.

"No one ever told me," Tony says. He can feel his eyes pricking, and oh shit, he is not going to cry, it's supposed to be okay, he knows he's not a freak—

But he can't control if Rhodey thinks he's a freak—

"Everyone walks around acting like you've got a frickin' rulebook in your heads," Tony snaps. "Like, oh, I should want this, but I'm going to act civilized around these women, and I, I don't have that rulebook, Rhodey, okay? I never had that rulebook, I just never wanted any of this, okay, like, I understand the whole 'drive for reproduction' thing in my head, I do—"

"Tony, what—"

"But I don't feel that, Rhodey, I just, you guys all act like animals and I just wanted to be normal so I pretended and I never stopped, and I'm not broken, okay, don't you dare tell me that I'm, I'm broken because I'm not!"

The silence rings in his ears as he stands, chest heaving, and Rhodey staring back at him, wide-eyed at the sudden hurricane of emotion that Tony hadn't even known he was holding inside. Shakily, Tony reaches up and uses both palms to angrily scrubs away a handful of traitorous tears that are trying to leak down his cheeks.

"I'm ace," he says desperately into his wrists.

He isn't expecting Rhodey's hug and he hiccups in surprise, but he's hardly about to argue. Rhodey's arms are strong, and he's safe in them, they haven't ever and won't ever go anywhere he doesn't want, so he hangs on like Rhodey's shirt is his lifeline and tries not to get snot onto it as the words stumble out of his mouth all out of order: "I wanted—I didn't want sex—I love Pep—I know it looked bad—I couldn't, I tried, Rhodey, I couldn't, I hated it and, and I couldn't—I would have killed myself—"

Rhodey's arms squeeze him tighter as Tony gasps and tries to hold it together as he realizes that yes, he probably would have killed himself if he'd forced himself to stay with Pepper. It was different with a thousand nameless faces, they were his masochistic penance for being a freak, but if it had been Pepper and nothing had changed, every night would have killed him slowly until a gun or a bottle of pills would have been a relief to end the constant roiling stomach and self-hate.

"Shhh," Rhodey says. "I got you, Tony, I'm right here, it's gonna be okay, I got you. Just breathe. You don't have to say anything else, I understand. It's going to be okay, you hear me?"

Tony nods helplessly and doesn't resist as Rhodey guides him into sitting down against the wall and takes a seat beside him. "Sorry," Tony says shakily, "I didn't know I was holding all that in."

"You're fine," Rhodey insists. "I didn't—wow. I had no idea."

"But you believe me?" Tony says hopefully.

Rhodey shakes his head, not like a 'no,' but like an 'oh my god, Tony.' He gets that reaction a lot, so it's pretty easily recognizable. "You know, I've seen you flip out maybe six times in my life? I guess it's seven, now. You don't get emotional like that, Tones, not for a prank. I believe you."

Tony sighs in relief and practically melts against Rhodey's side. "Thank you," he mumbles.

Rhodey hums and slings and arm around him, rubbing his arm briskly like he's trying to warm up. Then the motion slows. "Wait, so you didn't want to be with Pepper, right? Was it actually bad?"

"It wasn't her," Tony says immediately. "She's, uh, you know, aesthetically I can still say that she's one of the more beautiful women I've ever met, but it's just—I don't like sex. It's kind of messy, you know? Well, I mean, probably not, but it just doesn't get me excited and I have to drink to even really get into it, and I think it's actually kind of disgusting sometimes. Not always, but… doing it every night, with someone I cared about, would… suck. A lot."

"So being touched grosses you out?" Rhodey sums up. At Tony's nod, his arm stills completely. "Um. Is this okay?"

Tony gives him a look like he's being an idiot on purpose, which is probably a little harsh for the situation, but still. "Rhodey, as you've told me plenty of times, you are extremely straight. So we're two guys who are not sexually attracted to each other. I think I can handle a little hugging."

Rhodey gives him a look that looks a little too much like a kicked puppy for Tony's comfort. "But you don't have to anymore."

Well, when he puts it like that. Tony leans in a little more. "I like hugs," Tony says. "And handholding, and maybe kissing if it didn't lead up to anything. I just don't like groping and sex and that kind of stuff." He falls silent, and then finally admits, "Actually, the hugging thing's really nice. Most of the time… people touch me with an agenda. You know?"

Rhodey starts rubbing his shoulder again, so Tony assumes he gets it.

Which, of course, is when the door to the living area of the penthouse opens to reveal Pepper and he goes tense all over again.

Pepper's eyes were red, like she'd been crying, which immediately sets off alarm bells in Tony's head, because Pepper has almost inhuman control over angry tears. It's only for the sad stuff, like those animal abuse commercials, that she turns into a teary wreck.

Rhodey confirms it. "You were listening, weren't you."

Pepper nods, obviously trying to keep it together. Tony starts planning some way to get back at Jarvis for this, because this is obviously his meddling, but then Pepper steps forward, her feet bare on the carpet, and kneels in front of Tony. "I need you to know," Pepper says, voice trembling, "That I loved you. When we were together, I was with you because I loved you for you. Not because of any sex you could give me."

"That's really nice to know," Tony says softly.

"Why didn't you just say you didn't want to?" Pepper whispers. "That would have been okay. That's what people are supposed to do. They're supposed to make sure both sides want what's happening."

Again, that's kind of news to Tony. He tucks his knees closer to his chest and lays his forearms on them. "See, I didn't… get it. The way everyone else apparently does? So I had to teach myself how to say yes. And…" Tony rests his forehead against his arms and speaks to his legs. "I never really figured out when it was okay to say no."

"Always," Pepper says immediately. She edges around on her knees until she can sit on Tony's other side, her legs folded neatly beside her. "You can always say no."

"I just wanted to be normal," Tony says again, whispers it.

Pepper reaches across him and takes the now somewhat-crumpled flyer from Rhodey's hands. "You're…" Pepper looks at the flyer, then at Tony. "You're ace, right? Maybe you don't have to be normal."

"Yeah," Tony breathes. He raises his head and looks at her. "So you're okay with this?"

Pepper strokes his hair and Tony closes his eyes and sighs into the sensation. Pepper knows. It's okay. It can just be like this. "I'm perfectly okay with this, Tony." She takes a breath. "I thought, when you broke up with me just after we slept together, that maybe that's all you had wanted. That now you knew how Pepper Potts was in bed, I wasn't worth your time. And I'd expected to be treated better than all the other tramps you brought home—" Pepper catches herself before she can go into a rant that Tony's heard at least ten times, and simply says, "It wasn't like that at all, though, was it."

"Not even close," Tony confirms. "I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault. You didn't want it, that's totally fine, I'm sorry—"

"No," Tony says. "I'm sorry that I didn't tell you. I'm sorry that I let you think you didn't matter to me when you really did. If you were still mad at me now? I wouldn't be sorry. But I am for then."

Pepper's arms slip around his shoulders and neck and she hugs him close. This is a good place: between his best friends who know and don't care. Being touched but not being uncomfortable. "I accept your apology," Pepper mumbles into his hair. "And I apologize, too. For being so angry that I couldn't see how it was ripping you up inside. How's that?"

"I accept your apology, too," Tony says. Thank god, he has Pepper back.

It's quiet between them, peace settling in between the cracks in Tony's masks, until Rhodey says curiously, "So are you guys back together now? Just, celibate? Would that work?"

Tony can almost hear Pepper roll her eyes, but he personally thinks that's a good question. "A celibate relationship would be fine with me," she says. "I'm always busy with work, anyway. But…" Her voice goes quiet. "I don't know if I'm ready to try again, just yet. Tony, I was angry at you for so long, and I can't just let myself fall back in love with you without thinking about it first."

"Definitely," Tony says immediately. "I mean, I only figured out about asexuality today." Tony pauses, thinks about that, because wow. "I need to think too. About, you know, boundaries and stuff? Maybe a little distance would be good."

"Sounds like a deal," Pepper says. But she doesn't move, and neither does Rhodey, and Tony feels about as cuddly and warm as he ever has so he's not about to move either.

And he doesn't mean to drift off, but he feels safe and warm and flipping out takes a lot out of a person, okay, so he falls asleep on Rhodey's shoulder with Pepper running her fingers through his hair, and maybe everything's going to be alright in the world.

—§§§—

Six Months Later

The waitress sets a fresh mug of coffee in front of Pepper, nods politely, and moves back to the counter. On the way she shoots a look that can only be called a glare at one of the customers, who is slowly edging closer to Tony and Pepper's table with paper and pen in hand. It seems a little rude, but since Tony's about ninety-three percent sure that the glaring tactic, frequently employed by the staff of this little hole-in-the-wall coffee shop, is the only reason he and Pepper have yet to be accosted by obnoxious teenagers wanting a selfie with Iron Man. Or, even worse: accosted by some grown adult trying to tell Tony everything that was wrong with the last thing he said on live TV.

It got the waitstaff a pretty hefty tip each time, anyway, which Tony figured a starving college student could always use.

"What's with the sprinkles?" Tony asks, gesturing to Pepper's cup. "It's so… artsy." He takes his coffee black with two creamers, thank you very much, and god help anyone who screwed up that order. No one at this shop had, so far, so that was another reason for a tip.

"Not sprinkles, cinnamon," Pepper informs him primly, stirring the whipped cream and, ahem, cinnamon into her coffee. "It's a peppermint gingerbread latte."

Tony furrows his eyebrows. "Uh, Pep? It's April."

"And I have a credit card that could convince anyone. Thank you for that, by the way." Pepper resettles herself in her seat, shifting slightly so the person with the iPhone behind her to their left can't get a good shot of either of their faces. "Can I ask the reason for the sudden coffee date?"

"What, I can't ask a friend out for a coffee now?" Tony grins. "You love this place."

"I just think the headlines will leave the 'coffee' part of the 'date' out if I don't have my computer or a spreadsheet," Pepper says, but she's smiling, so she's teasing him, not really worried.

And that's his opening. "I'm not sure they'd be entirely inaccurate if they did."

It's been a long six months since the Pride Parade. Coming out hadn't even seemed like it had been a choice, just a natural progression of things, and though he was constantly under derisive review from some asshole who seemed to think they knew him better than he did, Tony had gotten positive feedback from aces all over the world and that was enough for him.

He wasn't alone, and now that he knew that, he'd built him up much more solid than he'd ever been Before. Before was what he called it now, back when he was careening about, trying to dance to music he couldn't hear and play the part of a playboy when he'd never read the script.

Pepper's stirring stopped and she gave him a look with both eyebrows raised. "A date? Well, I would have worn something nicer."

A grin curls the edge of Tony's mouth. "To, what, seduce me?"

"To give the cameras my good side," Pepper says wryly. The girl behind her to the left is lowering her iPhone, picture captured, and starts tapping her fingers frantically on the screen, no doubt texting her friends. Or the tweeting it. "Not everything is about you, you know," she teases.

"You got me," Tony grins. "Still narcissistic. That never changes."

"The world will end first," Pepper agrees. She starts stirring her coffee again, though it looks pretty well mixed to Tony. Probably one of those habit things, like the way she always massages her heel when she takes off her shoes, even when she was wearing flats. It's weirdly endearing. Tony loves watching her, just for the little things, when he knows he doesn't have to pretend he's looking for something else. "So, you want to try dating again?"

Tony's got this whole argument—well, proposition, except the non-dirty kind—planned out. "So I've thought about it. For, like, six months, and I know where my boundaries actually are. You've had time, too, and you've—well, I mean, I would assume you've been thinking about it—" Focus, Tony, this isn't that hard. He rubs the side of his nose. "What I mean to say is, what happened last time wouldn't happen now. I can speak up before my toes get stepped on and you'd actually know if you were stepping on my toes."

"It was a little more than bruised toes," Pepper says.

"Yeah," Tony admits. "I know. But I've accepted it. My whole life, it—well, it happened. I can't go back and fix it now."

Pepper takes a sip of her coffee, but the mug can't hide her smile. "Did you actually listen to Rhodey and talk to someone about this? I'm so proud of you."

"It was an online ace support group, not a damn therapist," Tony mutters. The waitress is coming his way again, probably wondering if he'd like a refill. It'd be nice, but he'd like some privacy even more, so he waves her off for now. "And maybe you're not as okay with what happened, but that's why… You know. I hear clear communication is a vital part of a functioning relationship."

Pepper stares at him. Then she snorts and shakes her head. "I can't decide if you sound more like you're reciting a textbook or like you've grown up."

"Grown up," Tony replies instantly. "But, uh, your thoughts? On possibly getting back together."

Pepper sets her mug down again with a clink. "I have been thinking about it, some. Mostly logistics." Tony quirks and eyebrow at that, but doesn't interrupt. "When it's really on the table, though… Tony, I love you. And that can be something between best friends, or that can be something between a couple. It works either way. But… I do have some concerns. One big concern, to be specific."

"I won't break up with you again," Tony promises. "Not without telling you why."

"I appreciate that," Pepper says patiently, "but that's not my concern. You're much more in control of your plans and relationship progression than you were. I'm worried—and I know how this sounds—about how it looks."

"How it looks," Tony echoes.

"You've come out as asexual," Pepper says. "You already get so much hate for that, so many people trying to tell you that you're lying or that it's just a cry for attention. I wouldn't want to get them any more ammunition."

"Thanks. But Pep?" Tony says gently. "You don't have to think about that kind of thing anymore."

"I always have to think about that kind of thing."

"No, no. Look." Tony reaches over the table and takes Pepper's hand. "There always have been and always will be those assholes who want to tell me who I am, why I'm a horrible person, or try to make me a symbol for their own views. Like all those guys who were pissed as hell when Steve came out as bi. But the fact is, I am asexual, and whatever they say and whatever points they make to supposedly disprove it, they're going to be wrong. And everyone watching is going to know that being asexual doesn't mean that I'm incapable of being in a relationship. I'll just be showing the world the difference between ace and aro."

Pepper's smile spreads across her face in a way that reminds Tony of the sun coming out. "I really like this new you," she says. "Not messing around with the press. Just being whoever you know you are."

"It's a lot easier," Tony says. "Now, is your concern satisfied or do I need to beat it back into a corner some more with my fabulously flawless logic?"

Pepper considers that. "If you're aware of the possibility of a backlash and willing to weather it, then so am I. Now. If we're going to have a good, well-functioning relationship with clear communication—"

"Are you teasing me? I feel like you're teasing me."

"Only because I love you," she says, patting his hand and withdrawing her own to fold her hands on the table in front of her. "We need some ground rules and boundaries."

Tony takes a breath. "Yeah. Okay. I have a question for you. So, see, I've talked to other aces who are in romantic relationships and there's this thing they do. When they're uncomfortable with that kind of intimacy but their partner isn't? An open relationship. It's a thing. Just throwing that out there." He sits back and crosses his hands over his chest, trying hard not to start tapping his feet nervously.

"Are you actually open to that idea or just saying it because you think you should?" Pepper asks him, raising an eyebrow pointedly.

Tony sighs. "Okay, I'll admit, I'm kind of possessive. So I don't love the idea. But if it's important to you, I can deal."

"No," Pepper says firmly. "You are not settling for anything, okay? Besides," and here she smirks, "I think you've still got a somewhat skewed picture of pretty much everyone with a sex drive. We can be just as varied as aces in how much we want. Because sure, it's nice, but it's not important to me. I don't have nearly enough time or inclination to go around finding guys to give me a part of a relationship that you're not comfortable with."

"That's nice to hear," Tony admits, relieved. "Okay. Boundaries? Kissing's good. Really good. Just, careful with the hands whenever we do."

"When did you figure that one out?" Pepper says coyly. "I didn't see that on the news."

"I can be discreet when I want to be."

"Fair. Are you okay with sleeping in the same bed? Just for cuddling," Pepper adds, like it wasn't already obvious. Tony wouldn't be surprised if she has a mental checklist she's going down, now, figuring out where the line is so they can work this out.

"Spooning's great, just with clothes."

"Then no robots in the bedroom."

Tony blinks, then pouts. "What? I need robots."

"Not in a place where I'm sleeping, you don't. I refuse to be ambushed by another cleaner bot playing with my hair ever again."

"That was one time, and I fixed the glitch."

Pepper tucks a strand of hair—mercifully attached to her head, but the cleaner bot had been a close call—behind her ear and fixes him with a stern stare. "No robots," she says firmly, and that's the voice Tony knows he won't win against. The sip of coffee Pepper takes is a last sign that this bullet point is not up for negotiation.

Tony grumbles, then sighs. "Fine. But they're allowed everywhere else in the living areas—"

"Except for the bathroom."

"Fine, okay, but everywhere else. I can't be expected to clean up all my own messes."

"Glad that's cleared up," Pepper says brightly. "Now, as good as this date has been, you kind of jumped this on me last minute and I'm going to be late for my lunch date with Natasha if I don't go now." She stands from her seat and pushes it in.

"Nat? I thought you guys did that on Thursdays."

"I'm very proud that you know that, honey," Pepper sighs, "but today is Thursday. Also, Natasha wanted me to tell you she still thinks you're a great kisser. Do you want me to send the same message?"

Tony almost chokes on his own spit and looks up in alarm to see Pepper's knowing smile. "Oh," he says. "Um, just to be clear, that was a one-time thing and a favor, okay, won't happen again—"

"I know." Pepper kisses him on the top of his head and collects her purse and phone.

"Well, in that case, yes, she is a very good kisser. That shouldn't be a surprise."

"It's not. I expect you to prove your prowess later, though," Pepper says. "Love you, bye."

"Love you too," Tony calls after her. Yes, he can say that again, and can say it without reservations. He's still smiling wider than he has in weeks when he flags down the waitress for his check, and if he writes out a tip that makes her squeak, well, he's having a good day.

—§§§—

Prompts are still being accepted at my tumblr, which is miniongrin. And yes, the reason Natasha knows Tony is a good kisser (and visa versa) is going to be the next installment in this 'verse.