So pleased with the feedback my first story got! Here's another one shot, enjoy!
Pepper was constantly amazed, even after working for Stark Industries for ten years, at how lonely Tony's enormous house could be. As Tony's assistant, she often found herself there as early as six o'clock to brief him on his schedule for the day—not that he ever wanted to hear it—and as late as one in the morning finishing up reports, making final adjustments to the schedule, sometimes just sitting alone in peace for ten minutes before she collected her things and made her way home.
No matter what time of day it was, she liked to work in the living room; the slow trickle from the waterfall was comforting, and the beautiful view out the window wall reminded her that there were perks to being… whatever it was Tony was, exactly. She couldn't seem to put her finger on it.
And of course, she had everything she needed at the tips of her fingers: if she was hungry or thirsty, she need only tell JARVIS, and she was amazed at the things Tony had programmed him to do. JARVIS had complete control over every room in the house, even some basic functions in the kitchen. However, no one could touch Tony's omelets.
A smile crept over Pepper's lips thinking about how gentle Tony was in the kitchen. In the same way he seemed to float in his workshop, barely touching parts that somehow ended up soldered together, he was remarkably adept in the kitchen, moving from stovetop to refrigerator to island as gracefully as a dancer.
Pepper shook her head and laughed at herself, knowing that Tony would mock her ceaselessly if he knew how she was thinking of him. But the truth was, there wasn't a moment she wasn't thinking of him. Especially after he had gone missing for three months in Afghanistan, she couldn't deny anymore that she cared for him very much. Maybe not in the lustful, romantic way that all those girls who leaned over handrails to get his autograph did, but she cared for him nonetheless. And every now and then, overtaken by unbidden secret desires in her dreams, she did care for him that way, usually in abandoned corridors at Stark Industries or up against the wall of his workshop. She shivered just thinking of it, the way he touched her in these dreams, tender and powerful all at once.
"Miss Potts."
Pepper jumped. JARVIS had startled her. "Sorry. Um, yes?"
"Reminding you of the meeting at Stark Industries in one hour, Miss Potts."
"Thank you, JARVIS." She knew what that meant. Game time.
Pepper grabbed the bag of dry cleaning from the hall closest. It was impossible to tell how long Tony would take to get ready for something. Once she'd come down to his workshop two hours before an event, only to find him already dressed and ready, continuing to tinker away in a tuxedo. Other times he was nowhere to be found fifteen minutes before they were supposed to leave, so she'd learned to prepare for every possible scenario.
Her heels clicked against the steps leading downstairs and the holographic keypad beeped as she entered in her code: 106.
"Tony?" Pepper called into the garage. "We've got that meeting in an hour." She tentatively stepped around one of the tables, then over a pile of scrap metal on the floor that looked like the chest piece to a metallic suit of armor. "Mr. Stark, are you down here?"
"Potts, that you?" To her left, Tony slid out from under one of his cars on a creeper.
"Do you always have to appear so suddenly and scare the crap out of me?" Pepper snapped, caught off guard. "We've got that debriefing in an hour."
"Why can't we just do it here?" Tony asked. He reached up to the worktable and grabbed a rag to wipe the oil off his face and neck.
Ah, the litany of questions. Tony's first step down the path of an argument. Pepper took a breath and prepared herself for battle.
"Because I scheduled it at Stark Industries. I scheduled it a month ago when you got back from Afghanistan and this guy, this… Coulson guy really wants to meet with you."
"You scheduled it the first time, why can't you just reschedule it?"
"Because I shouldn't have to, you should go to meetings when I schedule them."
Tony shook his head a little too cavalierly. "I've never been very good at going to meetings when they're scheduled."
"And I've never been very good at getting you to them, but that's about to change." Pepper extended the bag of dry cleaning. "Here."
"I don't want to wear that."
"You're wearing it."
"It's too formal."
"You're going into a business meeting. You need to look formal, as the CEO of your company, you need to look formal, Tony."
"I think I look fine now."
"You look…" Sexy, Pepper wanted to say, but of course she couldn't. But how could she think anything else when he was sitting there like that, with his strong arms and sweaty wifebeater, the blue light of the arc reactor shining through the thin, stained fabric.
"You look like you've been working on cars all day," she sighed finally, maybe a little too wistfully.
"You look nice," Tony countered with a wicked grin. He'd realized she'd been staring and now he was going to mock her for it. Oh, Lord…
"Come on, Tony, we really don't have—"
"Would you care to show me?"
"No, I'm not going to—what?"
"Would you like to show me, Miss Potts, what exactly you think formal dress is?" Tony said, making a circular motion in the air with his finger.
"This is… ridiculous…" Pepper could feel her cheeks getting hot, her ears getting red. She hated being looked at, most of all by him. In that way. With those eyes.
Tony rose to his feet. "Please," he said, so quietly, so simply that she wasn't quite sure he'd said it.
Pepper shrugged lamely. "Okay. Okay, okay."
Taking slow, embarrassed steps around herself in a small circle, she felt his eyes upon her, devouring her, drinking her in. Her heart pounded in her chest as she turned her back to him. What was he going to do? Did she dare to think—to hope—that he'd try and make a move? Would he start slowly, gently, placing a strong hand on her shoulder and whispering, "Shhh…" into the skin on the back of her neck? Or would he be raw, possessive, pulling her to him and gripping her tightly at her hips as he raked the stubble on his chin across her cheek?
But nothing happened. The only sound was the slow, methodic click of her heels against the garage floor. When she had rotated 360 degrees, she flopped her arms down to her sides.
"Done," she huffed, with just a twinge of disappointment, although she'd never admit it to herself. "Do you get it now? This," she gestured to herself, "is formal. That," she gestured to him, "is not."
Tony didn't answer right away. His brow was furrowed in confusion, and he was staring at her so intently that she feared he was staring through her, past her, his thoughts somewhere else.
"Yeah…" he said distantly.
Had she been too brusque with him? She'd been rude, hadn't she? But didn't he deserve it? Disengage, Potts, disengage. Pepper shook her head and cleared her throat. "Well, if you're quite done staring, I think it's time—"
Tony snapped back to attention. "Staring? Who said I was staring?"
Pepper faltered, but only for a second. "I—you were, I saw you! I felt you."
"Miss Potts, I know I am sinfully handsome but I'm shocked, frankly, that you think I would act in that way, especially towards you." He was mocking her now. "I mean, given my amazing track record with women. I'm strictly a gentleman, ask anyone who knows me."
Pepper let a smile turn up the corners of her mouth. "Really? Shall I call everyone blind or deaf in your address book?"
He smirked. "I don't think that will be necessary, Miss Potts. A simple admittance from you is all I require."
She loved sparring with him like this. It made her heart beat faster and her brain trip over itself trying to keep up with his wit. "An admittance of what, Mr. Stark?"
"That you… maliciously framed me for sexual harassment, clearly brought on by the intensity of your own feelings for me and your inability to resist my boyish charm."
"It'll be on your desk by five," Pepper intoned dryly. "Now will you get dressed for this meeting, please?"
She deposited the dry cleaning on the couch and had begun to turn away, certain that this ridiculous conversation was over, and then he said something that made her cheeks flush a whole new shade of crimson.
"You know, it only seems fair that if you get to dress me, I should get to dress you."
Pepper prided herself on how quickly she recovered, especially considering how far her mind was wandering… "I would hardly call it dressing you, Mr. Stark. I just pulled a suit and tie out of your closet, the first one I saw."
Tony eyed her silently for a moment; it made her uneasy again. What was he thinking in that moment of calculated quietness? Was he thinking about her skin, and how it would taste beneath his lips, or was he merely conjuring the words for his next sentence, which were much gentler than she'd expected.
"Quite right. You have impeccable taste, Miss Potts. Clearly you don't need someone else to pick out your wardrobe for you. Me, on the other hand…"
He gestured to his dirty wifebeater and she laughed, half out of nervousness and half out of relief that the conversation was back on familiar ground.
"You'll never make it on the best dressed list in that getup," she joked. "One hour," she reminded him.
"Yeah, yeah," Tony said, waving her off with a smile.
As Pepper ascended the stairs from the workshop, she felt a rush of blood to her head. What had just happened? She and Tony had sparred before, but it had never been like that. Ever since he'd come back he was much more serious—a jokester, still, but behind every smile there was some secret. There was more than meets the eye to him and it intrigued her. It fascinated her, terrified her, and made her proud.