Thank you for reading and reviewing. This chapter was meant to go one direction, and went the complete opposite way. That's ok though. Writing this made me smile.
Pepper
Considering the unorthodox way in which I was hired, my new job was relatively normal. Mornings began with coffee- black only if he had a hangover, which was pretty frequently. Afternoons consisted of fulfilling the day's agenda, and later, I kept him company while I did his work for him.
After my first three days on the job, I was used to my new boss- well, he'd always been my boss, just more directly now- and he was used to me. The "Miss" had been almost completely dropped, and oddly enough, I knew plain "Potts" was a sign of endearment. He never called me Virginia though. He believed it made me sound like a little old lady.
I liked him. Genuinely cared about him. He was one of the oddest, most egotistical people I'd ever met, yet it didn't bother me in the least. That was just the way he was. Nothing could ever change that, and I accepted the fact. I knew he liked me as well; enough to prevent him from making any real advances toward me, though I have to admit I was terrified for a while that he would fire me if I didn't sleep with him. Hell, he didn't even need a bed.
"Potts- do you like my desk?" he asked one day, entirely out of the blue. It caught me off guard, and he noticed. I know he did, because he smiled. He had a puppy dog smile when he wasn't putting on affectations for an audience.
"Umm," I mumbled, thinking. It was a nice desk- glass, handsome hardwood-
Wait.
"I do like your desk- but not for that," I added, seeing the glint in his eyes.
"Oh come one, Miss Potts. You can be my really personal personal assistant."
I feigned innocence. "But I already am your personal assistant, Mr. Stark."
"Poppycock. You just can't admit to yourself that you are wildly attracted to me." That was beside the point.
I giggled. "Did you just say poppycock?"
"As a matter of fact I did. And as you are my employee, I have the right to fire you for making fun of me. So there," he finished, sticking his tongue out at me. I knew he was joking, but the professional side of me insisted on keeping a straight face. I failed miserably, but not before making one of those grotesque snorting noises. That only made me laugh harder- I had just imitated a pig after all. Five minutes later, I began to cry. Mr. Stark plopped himself down on the sofa next to me- a little too close, but under the circumstances, I didn't mind. He put his hand on my back, rubbing across my shoulders to calm me down.
"Potts- shh- you're going to hurt yourself-" he whispered, before opening a can of soda. He was smiling, trying not to laugh himself.
His comment made me conscious of an ache beginning to well up in my stomach. I'd laughed myself silly, and I couldn't stop.
"I- hee hee- ow- hee!- my tummy hurts!" I gasped between giggles.
The swig of coke he'd just taken went everywhere. Everywhere. All over him, all over me, all over the floor. God, his aim sucked. It was hysterical. I'd never seen a thirty year old laugh quite like that before. It was several minutes before either of us calmed down. When we did, I was nursing my aching tummy, and he was rubbing the bridge of his now clogged nose. I looked at him from the corner of my eye, and saw him doing the same to me. We both smiled.
"God, you are pale. I've never seen a woman as pale as you," he said.
I questioned him with my eyes.
"You're face is so red. It's amazing- kinda sexy in a weird way. Makes me think of-"
"Mr. Stark, my face wouldn't be so red if you hadn't made me laugh!"
"I made you laugh? You got the giggles over… what the hell were we even laughing over?" We both chuckled lightly. "Besides, it's not my fault you like a chili pepper when you laugh. You should more often."
"I should what?"
"Laugh. It's fun. It's nice. It's less formal. You are way too formal. Sometimes it's like you've got a rod shoved-"
"And when are these times, Mr. Stark?"
"When you're trying to be totally professional. You don't have to be, it's not like I'm going to fire you if you don't act perfectly all the time. Calm down, relax- you know, I'm a big fan of casual Fridays."
"How casual, Mr. Stark?"
"Um, bikinis are nice."
I gaped at him. "I am not wearing a bikini to work!-" His evil grin shut me up.
"See? You just yelled at me, and I have no intention of firing you. It's okay to yell at me, I really don't mind. It's unprofessional. I like it. Do it more often Potts." He paused for a moment, looking at my face. "You even have red hair. And little, reddish freckles. You match."
The way he jumped from one subject to another was a little confusing. His motor-mouth self couldn't stay interested in one subject for long.
"Hmm?"
He sat up straight, intent on something. "How would you like to have a nickname?"
"Mr. Stark?" What was he up to now?
"You know, a pet name. Something more friendly than 'Potts.' We've been together for almost three months- that's the longest relationship I've ever had with a woman."
Three months? Seriously? I was ready to tease him about that, but then I remembered something: he's my boss. No matter what he says about the worthlessness of professionalism, I like to at least preserve a façade of it. We weren't friends. Not now, maybe not ever. Being friendlier than necessary would be inappropriate.
"Whatever you like."
"You know, I could say something dirty about that: there is this one fantasy- you're turning red again! Does it hurt to turn that particular shade of crimson? Reminds me of a lobster."
Was that what he wanted to call me? Boss or not, there was no way in hell I was going to be called that. He must have seen the panicked look on my face because he started to laugh again.
"Don't worry. I'm not going to call you 'Lobster.' That would just be awkward, especially in public," he said, gesturing with his hands as though they were lobster claws. Then he looked at me appraisingly. "How about 'Pepper'?"
Seriously? He was going to name me after a plant? Then again, it wasn't nearly as bad as being named after a crustacean, so…
"Umm, sure," I answered. I literally had no idea what this meant or entailed.
"Okay then," he said, slapping his knees, then standing up. He stepped right in a spot of soda.
"Oh crap. Forgot about that."
I had too. My new blouse was covered with golden polka dots, and my left arm felt sticky. Hopefully, it was just soda and not mucus. I stood up also.
"I can have this cleaned," I said, motioning toward the sofa. I was about to ask after his shirt, but he was already pulling it off and handing it to me.
"Sorry about that," he muttered. He was embarrassed, and a little proud of himself too. Typical male- likes to mark things as his territory with bodily fluid.
"No need to be. We just got out of control, it's wasn't your fault-"
"Would you say that under entirely different circumstances?"
I said nothing for a moment, taking in his suggestive expression. There was something oddly harmless in his lechery. There was nothing in it; no offense or real sexual invitation meant. It was almost affectionate- I knew that he genuinely liked me. It lent me confidence to deal with an otherwise unmanageable person, and if he ever did anything that upset me, I knew he hadn't meant to. It became, in a sense, normal.
Something pulled me out of my reverie; I'm not sure what. Looking at his shirt, I asked, "Will that be all, Mr. Stark?"
"That will be all, Miss Potts," he replied, smiling back at me. As I began to walk away, he added, "but it's 'Pepper' tomorrow."
And thus I was baptized.
What do you think? I figured explaining her nickname would be the most logical place to go next. I hope this satisfies.
