Disclaimers: Owned by Marvel. Based on Matt Fraction. Woot.

Semantics

When Pepper arrives home, most of her annoyance with Tony has worn off. A few hours in a helicopter with the (comparatively more) sane Maria Hill and James Rhodes has done wonders for her temperament. Realistically, she knows they are going to be fine. She knows this because it is the only option. Yes, she'd prefer it if Tony could be just a tad more graceful or humble, but he is who he is, and who he is someone who creates, who builds. His ideas seem crazy to her now, but she knows that he will make it work somehow. All he asks of her is that she figure out a way to make it possible, give him a circumstance in which he can be successful. It won't be hard. The man can turn just about anything into a victory. Still, she's not regretting leaving him in New York after that disastrous potential investor's meeting. A few hours to herself to unwind, maybe get a little tidying done, sounds fantastic.

Which is of course why Tony is in the living room with his feet on the coffee table when she walks in.

"How'd you beat me here?"

Without even glancing up from the files he's reading, Tony answers, "The helicopter's top speed is about 200 miles an hour. Mine is Mach 5." Then he turns and grins over his shoulder at her, "You can do the math."

The worst part about being poor is that they can't actually afford a place to live. It's no where near as bad as it was when they were on the run from H.A.M.M.E.R., when even her bank accounts had been frozen by the government, but sharing a suite of rooms with Tony is a trying experience for both Pepper and the other residents of the Sooner Hotel. No one else has much of a chance at using the study downstairs. He leaves stuff all over their suite. Considering he has no money, he should not be capable of acquiring stuff, but he does and he can't be bothered to put any of it away. She hasn't seen him eat in three days and though they trade nightly on who gets the bed and who is stuck with the couch, Pepper is fairly convinced that Tony doesn't sleep at all anymore. (In fact, it's his night for the bed and she doesn't even care. She's taking it. She pays the rent, she paid for all the medical equipment he had needed as a broke vegetable, he's got his stuff all over the living room and he's managed to re-annoy her. He doesn't sleep anyway and he can suck it up.)

"You didn't bring your suit," she says, exasperated.

He looks at her oddly. "Of course I did."

"I didn't see it."

He turns back around to sit more comfortably. "This one's very inconspicuous." The words are innocent enough, but his tone is about as smug as she's ever heard him.

She isn't going to ask to see it only because she knows he wants to show off. And also, she doesn't care if this suit's roller skates are a quarter inch smaller in diameter than the last or whatever. It isn't just Tony getting under her skin; she's bothering herself, too. After all that they've been through, she doesn't want to be so on edge around him, but she's strung up on a tightrope of ignorance and intimacy. Because they are close and she does appreciate being able to just be with him, but at the same time, she knows that he doesn't know that anything has changed for them. Or maybe it is more than she's changed and he hasn't. The things she wants are off the table--they are stupid, self-destructive things to want, but she can't help it anymore--and he doesn't know they were ever on the table to begin with. He's learning about his life from newspapers and 'Tony Stark Bangs Long-Suffering Assistant' didn't quite make it to the tabloids.

She clears a space on the couch and sits down next to him. He is not going to lean his head against her shoulder, but a small part of her wishes he would. The rest of her is annoyed for even hoping.

When Pepper gets home, he's working on the problem of how to regulate replusor batteries. Making a minor adjustment to prevent a release of replusor waves is easy enough, but ensuring that they only power machinery that he is comfortable with them powering is another thing. He's already assured his investors--potential investors, whatever--that he can make it impossible for them to be weaponized. Now comes the tricky part where he makes that promise a reality. He's had a few quite hours to mull it over and has a few ideas to implement already, but without facilities, he can only go so far. After scribbling down a few notes, he allows his train of thought to meander off the tracks. As for where his mind has wound up... "I talked to Thor the other day," Tony says. Silently, Pepper glances at him. "I didn't know the two of you were so friendly."

"He's interested in you," she answers. "Lots of people are. Maybe I should start a newsletter."

"Well. As exciting as The Tony's Broke Times would be, he had a few interesting things to say about you, too." He puts down his notebook and twirls his pen. It has been a long time since he's been quite this analog.

Pepper frowns at him. "I'm not sure I want you and your superhero friends talking about me."

Tony shrugs. "If you hang out with them, its going to get back to me." Superheroes were a gossipy bunch. There was no getting around it. Everyone was pretty used to Pepper Potts being part of the Iron Man entourage by now. His crowded talked about her a lot more than she suspected, that he was sure of. He may have mentioned her around Avengers mansion a handful of times. Or more.

"Talking about you isn't hanging out," she says blandly. Something about the way she says it makes him suspect she spends more time with his people that he'd imagined. Her tone that of someone defending themselves without actually sounding like they were defending themselves.

Either way, how much or how little time she spent with the spandex set wasn't the conversation topic he'd had in mind. "This is getting really off-topic."

She smirks at that, as if to tell him that he isn't the only person who can derail a conversation. "Oh? I'm sorry. Please. Continue."

"I have a lot of respect for Thor. He's one of greats. And, you know, I try to take his advice. He's got this Other, Godly perspective that just never steers me wrong. And if he thinks I should do something, then I probably should."

"Wait, where's the on-topic part of this?" Pepper's smirk is gone and her eyebrows are raised.

So, in a very matter of fact sort of voice, Tony informs her, "He thinks you think you're my girlfriend. So, on the advice of the mighty Thor, I have to tell you, you're not."

She didn't laugh. The whole idea was so patently ridiculous that it should have sent her into hysterics, but she just stares at him. If he didn't know better, he'd think she was mortified. Pepper had been in such a mood lately that Tony had intended to insert a bit of levity into her day, but if she couldn't get a giggle out for the Norse God of Thunder misinterpreting their relationship...well, he didn't even know what to make of that. Thor giving him advice about her, that was funny.

"So..." she says slowly, "You and your friends talk about how everyone thinks I'm in love with you, is this what you're saying?" She crosses her arms and everything about her posture turns accusatory.

Tony feels the sudden need to explain himself. "...geez, Pep, it was a joke."

"So he didn't say that."

"Thor? No, we were just being idiots."

"What did he really say?"

"Oh, he called you my 'spirited, ginger woman' and when I told him you don't belong to me, he acted like you didn't know that. I misinterpreted it anyway because he meant as an employee and I was thinking--" he stops, abruptly. Well, he'd thought wrong, hadn't he? His thoughts, when it came to Pepper, always held an undercurrent of sexuality, of a love he couldn't express. It was only natural that he'd color what other people said about her with the way he saw her. "He doesn't know you that well anyway, so it doesn't matter. I told him he was wrong and that was that."

"I've been called worse things than your ginger woman," Pepper's smirk was back, maybe with a hint of genuine smile. It only lasted a moment before she sighed and her mouth turned down. "I'd rather someone think I'm your woman than your girl."

Tony nudged her with his elbow, smiling himself. "What are you talking about? Girl is much better, being a girl is a thing. There's 'Atta, girl,' 'that's my girl,' and come on--'Girl Friday?'" Another nudge. "A guy calls you his woman, it's idiotic male posturing talking. He thinks sleeping with you means he owns you." Their lives had been so dramatic for so long that it felt good to tease her. They were friends and it had been so long since they just had fun together. At least, it had been a long time for him. Nothing in what he'd read had suggested that any of the time he'd forgotten included a period of levity for himself and his ever loyal Girl Friday.

"I'm an adult. 'Woman' is respectful of that. If a man calls me a girl he's trying to demean me. He's calling me a child."

Well, that was an unexpected response. Tony raises his eyebrows. "You might be over thinking it just a little bit."

"Really?" Pepper drawls. "So when the General called me your 'girl,' he didn't mean to degrade me?"

Dismissively, Tony waves his hand. "He's one of those old school good ol' boys military types--"

"--who will never respect a woman's right to be in this industry," Pepper says, cutting him off. "He calls me 'girl' because he doesn't respect me."

"We're not in the industry anymore," Tony huffs with a roll of his eyes. Sooner or later, someone was going to believe him about his break with the military-industrial complex. This wasn't the first time he'd been uncompromising about his stance as far as weapons and military contracts went, and yet there was always an expectation of backsliding.

"Fine," Pepper concedes with her mouth twisting unpleasantly, "Then he's the type that doesn't respect a woman's right to leave her kitchen."

"I call you girl." Tony points out. "Do you think I don't respect you?"

Her silence tells him a lot. She doesn't know if he respects her or not. He gives her a lot of responsibility, yes, but he also teases her about her mistakes so much that she probably isn't sure if he actually trusts her with running his company or if he just doesn't care do it himself. As for Tony Stark and women, he doesn't exactly parade his romantic prospects around her, so all she has to go by there is his reputation--she's seen very little of how he treats his lovers firsthand. It's easy to see where she would get the idea that he doesn't respect other women. If he doesn't respect women, why would he respect her? Before the silence gets too awkward, she says, "Of course you respect me. But when do you call me girl?"

He shrugs. "All the time, Girl Friday. But mostly in my head."

"Any reason I'm a girl and not a woman in your head?" Pepper asks with an arched eyebrow.

"Because you're my girl." 'Girl' just seemed a better term, somehow. More innocent, lighter, without the weight and sexuality that woman had. Girl suited a naive love that he didn't want to indulge in too much. It almost divorced her soul and her spirit and her fire--things he was free to enjoy--from the curvy, mature body that he was not permitted to explore. If he called her his woman in his head, then he was staking a claim on her that he didn't have. "You'll always be my girl."

"But not your woman."

"Nope."

There is something heartbreaking in his easy smile.

"I'm taking the bed tonight," Pepper says flatly, pillowing her head on his shoulder.

Tony gapes at her. "We have a schedule. You love schedules."

"Try and stop me."

"I just might."