After perhaps an hour she finally slips from the bed. She notices she has a bit more control over her body as she walks into the bathroom than she did when Tony had showed up on her doorstep, and her stomach is faintly interested in the concept of soup. But eating is the last thing on her mind as she looks at herself in the mirror. The woman looking back is pale and tired. But that's not unusual, she's seen that before. What is unusual is the fact that for the first time in her life, she knows that her uncle was right. She does favor her mother. She can't help turning side on to the mirror, can't help studying her body with almost a detached eye. And then she turns away with a shudder and puts everything but the anticipation of a shower right out of her head.

Panic won't help her, a fit of crying will only wake Tony up and make him uselessly protective. It's better to focus on what is happening now until she gets the call. After she hangs up, she can react accordingly. In the meantime, she has an entire box of photographs she hasn't looked through in years and a new pair of photo albums to file them in.

The shower feels good...unknotting the tension from her shoulders. The water stings a little against her skin, and yet she actually welcomes the sensation. In about fifteen minutes she's washed herself clean and managed to haphazardly wrap a towel turban style around her head. When she gets into the kitchen she eats the soup, then makes some salad and a plain turkey sandwich. She caries the whole pile of food out into the living room and finds the box and photo albums. Three hours later she's finished most of the first album and she can hear Tony coming down the hallway. She looks up from her place on the couch and smiles as he collapses at the other end. He's barefoot and his button-up shirt is undone past his arc reactor. His hair is tousled and he yawns before focusing his eyes on her.

"You said something about cherry pie earlier?"

She smiles. "In the kitchen on the counter." Then she goes back to laying out the jumbled pictures in some semblance of order, hoping to make another layout in her head before she seals them in place beneath the plastic sheeting. She can hear cabinets and drawers opening and shutting, followed by the sound of her refrigerator being raided. When Tony comes back with what seems like half of what remained of the pie and a huge glass of milk she's not terribly surprised. He sits down more carefully this time, choosing to move closer to her so he can watch as he eats.

"How long you been at this?" he asks, his eyes taking in the way she's spread out about two feet in all directions. He understands the chaos, but wonders how long it takes her to create it. If this were his garage, a mess this size would have only taken minutes.

"Two hours at least." It's not exactly a lie.

Tony shoots her a look that says he doesn't entirely believe her, but then his eyes stray to the floor and he breaks into a broad grin. "You know, Pepper, while I've often imagined you naked, this was not exactly what I was referring to." He holds up a photograph of a red headed baby no older than two. Pepper had been holding a fork in her hand, and she had a pot on her head.

"Eat your pie," she tells him as she tugs the picture out his hand.

He reaches down again and snags another. "Is this why you always wear your hair so long? 'Cause I've got to tell you, 'Annie,' I can almost see you singing 'Tomorrow' when I look at this. And you certainly have the temperament to railroad rich, eccentric billionaires."

"See, if you were eating your pie right now, your mouth would be full." But she doesn't sound upset and she doesn't try to take the picture away. "Just make sure you put that back where you found it, please."

He carefully puts it on the floor. "Ah come on, Pepper, I'm only due. I don't want to know how many embarrassing pictures that you've managed to find of me over the years of me."

"Believe it or not, Tony, the only embarrassing pictures of you that I've found are after you turned twenty one and started drinking in public." She glances at him. "You generate enough work to keep me from idly poking through your things, Tony. And if I were looking for the naked baby pictures, I'd want time to linger."

He smirks a little. "You'll never find them. I was quite thorough in creating a hiding place for incriminating childhood material." He takes a bite of pie and sighs in pure bliss, then points at one on the ground with a particular candor. "I'm assuming that's your mom and dad?" he says a little softly, pointing to a pale blonde with a willowy figure and a red haired man in his twenties. The woman was standing in front of the man, adjusting his tie even as they both turned toward the picture. His uniform was a little faded but even Pepper could make out the clear emblem of the United States Marines.

"Yeah..." She smiles and picks the photo up. "They loved each other so much."

"I didn't know your dad was in the service." His voice is curious.

She nods. "Twenty-three years. He died when I was seventeen. He loved the life almost as much as he loved my mother. Of course it meant we moved around a lot, but you learn to be flexible after you relocate enough times. Also you learn to be a bit more open minded when you live in places all over the country."

"Yeah?" Other than the year he spent traveling after his parent's death, Tony's never lived anywhere but Malibu. He'd always felt bound to this place. It was one of the reasons he bought it. There was something about this particular plot of land that made him feel anchored. It was a little hard to explain.

"Japan was my favorite post. I loved all the old shrines. It's also why I'm so addicted to Sushi. Not that I ever eat it much." She shrugs a little. "Dad was in special ops. He was killed during a recovery extraction of somebody in Asia…though they refused to ever tell me exactly where. My uncle convinced me to set up a marker for him next to Mom, though we never got a body back. I like to think that's exactly where he's happiest. Even if I rarely get to visit them." Tony knows how it feels, knows how after awhile the memories become bittersweet, cherished but rarely pulled out because it's too hard to set them aside again.

"Where are they?" he asks softly as he cuts another bite of pie. He doesn't want to pry into her life, but she's accompanied him on a few excursions to the cemetery where his parents are buried so he thinks she'll understand.

"A little country cemetery in southern Rhode Island. It's where my dad grew up and where my uncle Thomas lived. I still have a house there...well a farm actually, though it hasn't been operational in years, and I should probably sell it." She shrugs a little and laughs. "I mean let's face it, I may be flexible but I can't imagine I'll ever reach a point in my life where I want to settle outside a city and devote my life to raising milk cows."

He laughs and just looks at her. "Never thought about setting up a summer house? Or using it as your retreat when you retire and decide to become a full-time photographer?"

"Full time? Not likely. As I said it's a hobby. I enjoy monkeying with different lighting and angles, yes, but I'd probably get really sick of it if I had to do it everyday." She picks up another picture and hands it over. "This was my Uncle Thomas...he and Dad owned the farm." She laughs aloud. "Their grandparents came from Ireland, and I swear he cultivated the accent just to get himself laid. I'll say this much though, he defined the concept of Celtic blarney."

"Is that where you learned how to shut down someone before they got too deep in the BS?" He examines the picture respectfully before handing it back.

"He certainly helped me cut my teeth. Though in truth I learned a lot of my coping skills from some of my less pleasant ex-boyfriends." She smirks. "I'm quite sure one of them is still spending most of his free time trying to figure out where his limited edition copy of Playboy actually is."

"You're evil." His eyes are full of admiration though, for knowing where to hit where it would hurt. "Remind to lock up my collectables later."

"What makes you think that they're all still there?" The smile she shoots back is simply nothing but evil.

He starts making a quick and frantic inventory somewhere in his head. He's gotten through the comic books – some of which are arguably worth more and are far more rare than the Playboys – when Pepper starts giggling. "Evil and cruel," he tells her, though he offers her a bite of pie. "Forget locking anything up, just remind me not to piss you off." She accepts the bite from his fork, then steals another from his plate with her fingers. The result of course is a red sticky mess that she proceeds to clean off with her tongue and a far too innocent grin. "Feeling better?" he asks as he tries to keep his mind on the straight and narrow.

She weaves her tongue a little further between her fingers, delicately lapping the web of skin between forefinger and thumb, "Yeah...clear headed and calm. I think the drugs they gave me yesterday have all worn off. I'm a little sore at the biopsy sites but other than that...?" She shrugs and goes back to sorting through photographs again.

Tony contains a groan, then finishes his pie before she can offer to help. "Where did all of these come from?" he asks to distract both of them. "Is this one those projects that just sit around until you find the time to do them, or is it a recent interest?"

"I've been sorting through the house these last few weeks. Getting to little projects I've just kept putting off. This was one of them, and I guess your commenting on my photos in the other room made me decide to tackle this particular chore on the list."

Something in her tone makes him freeze and sends shudders through him. There is an implication in her tone that she accepts that she might be running out of time.

Actually, the implication is that she believes she's probably running out of time.

"What other chores have you tackled?" he asks, striving for the same light tone he's been using, because he doesn't want to put her on her guard or anything.

"The usual spring cleaning. Sorting through my closets. I think last week I outfitted an entire rack's worth of business clothes at the local Goodwill. I cleaned out my fridge and mailed out a few presents I'd set aside for old friends from college... That sort of thing. Oh and I finally caved and updated my will, because it's been six years, and unless I choose a beneficiary like the art program I did, most of my money and art collection would have probably ended up being seized by the federal government if something happened." She continues on relentlessly, unaware of the pressure that's building in his brain. "Just that kind of stuff, you know...responsibilities that nobody else but me can or should be asked to deal with."

Tony sets down his empty plate, then brushes the photographs on the couch onto the floor. He drags her into his lap and kisses her just to shut up all the stupid things he wants to say.

He wants to ask if she thought to leave anything for him or if he's going to have to bribe someone in order to have some small piece of her for himself. He wants to yell at her for what he sees as giving up hope, because she'd held out hope longer for him than she has for herself. He wants to assure her she isn't going to die, that her fate is still abstract and far in the future.

He doesn't say any of those things. But when he breaks the kiss, the question, and the anger, and the assurance all still leak through somehow as he says, "Pepper, if anything happens to you – now or fifty years from now – I'll be the one to take care of anything you leave undone." And that actually shocks her. As much as it pisses him off. She's looking at him like he's some kind of foreigner from a previously unknown country.

"Tony, I didn't...." The words die off. She wants to tell him she's not prepared to die. But the truth is she is. Because it's her life and her history, and she's been only partially tethered here for years. It is one thing to know you are needed to hold someone's life together, and it's another thing entirely to be the one in need of the tethering. And if she does have cancer....

Well Pepper knows that she's not her mother.

The thoughts catch in the back of her throat and steal the air from her chest. And just like that she's eleven again. Back in a hospital room with a woman who'd been her whole world, even as she slowly faded. "So tired, sweetie. Mama's just so tired." It had been one of the last things her mom had ever said...before her end. The words had been apologetic but resigned. An acknowledgement that sometimes you failed even when you did your best. Her mother had fought so hard, through surgery and chemotherapy. She'd fought like a lion because of what she'd been leaving behind: a child who needed her desperately, a man who had loved her completely.

She'd fought and she'd failed, and she'd had far, far more to give her strength than Pepper did if she was about to face the same battle.

And if that test came back negative... Some things were simply destiny.

"No." Tony takes her face in his hands and shakes it a little. "Pepper, no. You don't get to stop fighting before battle's even been sounded." And she starts to cry then, because there's nothing else to say. Nothing that can possibly make either of them feel any better. It's her fault she got this way. It's her own damn fault. Tony just wraps her in his arms and holds her. He bottles his own fear and everything that stems from it and allows her to face hers. "Shh, Pepper. I'm not going anywhere. I'll be here for you. If you need to stop being strong that's alright, but don't resign yourself to dying. Please."

And then the fury hits her, but it's aimed at him. At a weakness she's allowed through her own passive acceptance. "I'm not impossible, do you understand me?" she finally manages to speak through gritted teeth. "Impossible is exactly what's going to kill me, if things stay as they are." And then she's wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him like there's no tomorrow. She's kissing him as the alternative to forgetting how to breathe.

He lets her kiss him because he feels so damn guilty for that "impossible" remark that he'll hopefully be living down for the rest of his life. He kisses her back because he needs this too, this reassurance that she's alive and he's alive and they need each other. When she pushes at his shoulders and presses him back, he willingly goes because he would give her anything.

She's moving slow and a little clumsily, but not because of pain. She's just very, very aware of every delicate spot that's dotting her body. "I love you," she murmurs into his hair, and she tries to straddle his lap and sink into his chest. But her hip twinges at the stretching motion, causing her to end up half sprawled across his lap. "This is so completely and utterly not fair," she all but whines as his hands rub against her back. She's finally trying to do this...living on instinct for once in her life. And the universe... The universe is a complete and total bitch that is making a mockery of her honest intent to seduce him. Tony groans and bounces his head ineffectively off the couch cushions. Then his hands tighten around her waist and he holds her down on him when she would have rolled off in disgust and embarrassment.

"Your hip?" he asks breathlessly.

She nods. "I'm about two thirds as flexible as I regularly would be." She tries again to straddle his hips, but the muscles just can't take that degree of stretch without spasming uncontrollably. "The universe hates me. Absolutely fucking hates me."

"Oh, I don't know about that." He opens his eyes to look up at her. "Is not being on top a deal breaker? Or are you open to a different position?"

She snorts at that. "I'm on top of you because you're too heavy to crawl under...well that and the couch is a hell of a lot more comfortable than my hardwood floor." She uses her hands to brace as she slides herself backward, wincing a little as she comes to rest on the low lying coffee table. For some reason, Tony looks amused as he stands and then pulls her to her feet.

"That's not quite what I meant," he admits as his hands glide over her bottom, then slide lower to cup the back of her thighs. "There's more than deviations of the missionary position, Pepper." He turns her around then presses his hips tight to her bottom. "Though if you're not comfortable with it..." He forces his hands away from her body though he doesn't step back.

Her response is to snort and lean forward and kiss him full on again. "Have I ever struck you as a person who can't handle damn near anything you throw at me?"

"People have limits when it comes to sex, Pepper," he mutters against her lips. "Especially when it comes to new partners. I mean, if you don't want to find yourself face down on your bed, you do have one good hip. That leg would go around my waist just fine."

The only response that he gets is a low groan. "Pick, Stark…I'll choose which way we do it next time. But I'm through with thinking." And then she starts peeling her robe off her shoulders. When Tony laughs it sounds a little strained. Then he pulls her close and kisses her while slowly walking her backwards towards her bedroom. "Are you okay?" Some small, still functioning part of her brain peeks out from behind her Id.

"Just regretting my choice in pants this morning," he assures her as he bumps his hips into the softness of her belly. "Something I will remedy when we're in your room."

"Thank god," is her candid reply. "Because I only currently have one bag of ice in my freezer. If we'd had to cool this off there'd be none left for you." When Tony kisses her again they lose some momentum and end up bumping into the wall. He curses, then swings her up into his arms and a few seconds later they're in her room and he sets her down carefully on the edge of her bed. For a moment there's something hot and dangerous in his eyes, but he banks it, and there is Tony Stark standing in front of her with a look she recognizes. Anticipation and...planning.

That look makes her shudder, from her head to her toes because she knows Anthony Stark, probably better than he knows himself. And what that looks means, in most contexts, is that he's going to be lost in a project for at least a week. What that look means in this context...? Well she's definitely in trouble.

"I love this house," he informs her bluntly. "Love the air and the light and the way it feels ten times bigger than it is. And this room...." He smirks, "I think I like it most of all." He looks around him then, with a gleam in his eyes. "Do you know what this room tells me about you, Pepper?" He gestures to the multitude of pillows, the fuzzy blanket and at the brightly colored green silk sheets. "It tells me you've got a very, very heightened sense of touch..."

He sinks one hand into her hair and carefully pulls her head back. As the tips of his fingers trail down her exposed neck, his lips hover above hers. He doesn't kiss her, but she can feel every inhalation and exhalation that passes his lips. "I'm not going to rush," he warns her as he hooks a finger in the strap of her pajama top and slowly drags it down her arm. "Because we have now, and I don't feel like wasting it." His fingers come back up, skim across her chest, dip into the shallow cleavage at the v-neck of her top. She shudders hard as his fingers contact skin, and his nostrils flare at that new information.

"God...I barely have to touch you...barely have to breathe." He traces the edge of the lace. "Tell me something, Pepper...could I have made you come? If I had been just a little more free with my hands when we danced, could I have made you come?"

"I don't know..." Her words are a squeak. "We were in public...that kind of takes the edge off." It's not entirely true, but she'll be damned if she reveals such a blatant disadvantage.

"And yet you let me get you alone on the roof?" That definitely warranted more attention later. One thing was certain, he was sure that she was never, ever going to get to wear that dress in public unless they were together. While he'd always considered himself to be progressive, she was playing havoc with his sense of possessive jealousy.

"Your skin is so soft," he marvels, and his head dips down to suck at the soft ridge of her clavicle. She smells like scented soap and shampoo, and her flesh is warm and silky under his tongue. He can feel her trembling and he smiles to himself because he knows it's because of what he's doing to her and for no other reason. After one last kiss he steps back slightly and reaches for the hem of her top. Her hands follow, and try to help, but he just hangs on and shakes his head. "Am I going to have to make you sit on your hands?" he teases. "Or are you going to let me do this?"

"Two person activity," she murmurs a little rebelliously, and then he laughs when she actually does shift to sit on her hands. "Six plus years, Stark. Please show some compassion for my desire to maintain a little of my sanity."

"If you maintain any sanity at all, I'm not doing my job." He sets his palms against her bare sides so that the removal of her top becomes a caress. His eyes stay on hers, even after he's unveiled her breasts. He seems more interested in watching her reaction to him than anything else. "Hey, I need your hands for a minute," he reminds her as he nears her shoulders. She scowls at him through her growing lust but is obedient, and he glides his hands up her arms to the wrists. Her pajamas fall on the bed behind her and he links their fingers as he looks down at the skin he's bared. "Giving and receiving is also a two person activity," he tells her in a voice gone husky. "Especially if the woman doing the receiving has to fight her own impatience to give. But just because you're not actively touching me, Pepper, doesn't mean that you're not giving me a gift as well."

She seems to consider this a moment, before she nods slightly. "Point taken...but this sentiment will eventually come back to haunt you. I have limits."

And then to his utter amusement she actually deliberately sits on her hands yet again. "You might have limits now..." It's a promise that's also a little threatening. But then he's kissing his way between her breasts, slowly and with great delight. She is perfect. All of her, from her hair to the toes he can feel curling against his shins. And it's not the form of her body that makes her perfect, it's the honesty of her response that seduces him.

His hands gently cup her, tenderly squeeze just enough to imply his strength against her softness. But he is so very careful because doesn't want to risk hurting her. His lips ghost over the bandage on her left breast, acknowledging its existence but not lingering. "I love you," he whispers against her. He looks up at her through his eyelashes as his lips brush against her nipple. "I want to hear you," is the request/demand he makes of her before he takes her into his mouth. Sound spills from her lips – a high, desperate moan as he suckles. Her back arches and her hips twitch forward in a perfect arc, all without her consent.

He smiles around her breast, nipping at it carefully. "That's it Virginia, let it out." Then he pulls back from what he's doing, just enough to blow a stream of air across the nipple, and she writhes as his hand starts tracing the skin of her sides. "I was wrong, Pepper. I was so, so unbelievably, unforgivably wrong. Impossible people don't move like you do, and they certainly don't groan in a way that's anywhere near this greedy." He takes the other breast in his hand, squeezing it quite deliberately more firmly. "So what do you like, Pepper...light or firm? What really turns you on?"

"Firm," she whispers. "And...and..." He raises an eyebrow and lightens his touch until she thinks she might be imagining it. "And I like watching you," she finally gets out. "Your eyes are..." She shakes her head, trying to force the words to come together. "I like knowing that you like watching me."

He circles her nipple with just the lightest brush of his fingernails. Watches her pupils dilate. "You like firm better or you like it because it's faster and thus less intense?" He bends again to suck the breast that he's holding, this time letting his hand sink below the waist of her silk capris. There's nothing below them, and he groans with the knowledge. "My Lord...you were built as the perfect answer. Do you have any clue how much you tempt me?" If anything, her skin is softer here and he can't help but run his fingers back and forth over the same two inch patch over and over.

"Lie back," he tells her as he abandons her breast for her lips. "Just...yesss...." His hands brace her until her back meets the mattress. As he slowly pulls the drawstring of her pants loose he sinks into her mouth, tasting as deeply as he can of her. When he feels her hands pulling at his shirt he doesn't try to stop her because he wants it off too, wants to be able to press as much of his skin as possible against hers. She accepts his bulk against her torso with an almost delirious relief, though he's very careful not to place his full weight on any of her injuries. The gap left in between is enough for her to be enacting a desperate, rocking thrust and retreat against his now need soaked hand.

"Tell me what else you need, Pepper. Do you need more?" He straightens a third finger and shudders as her body accepts it, though she's already so tight. "Do you need a new sensation?" He flutters the pad of this thumb against her clit, and feels his own body rock with lust as she gasps and holds onto him so tightly he can feel her fingernails stabbing into him. "Harder? Deeper? Do you want my tongue in your mouth? On your breast? Against your core?" The pace of her thrusts changes, becoming slower but harder, her hips circling as if looking for some needed touch. "Tell me, Pepper."

"Need you in me," are the words she finally gets out. "Want this to be for both of us...

not just me." But the words themselves are just too much, for a body held on a precipice too long already. "Oh...oh my god...." And then she is coming. And it is agony and relief all rolled up into one.

"I'm...I'm sorry. I tried. I really tried. I wanted..." She manages to gasp out after a moment. She wants to sit up or roll away but lacks the necessary muscle control.

Tony though just leans forward and kisses her. "For what? Who says you can't have that plus this on it's own?" He twitches his hand inside her, rolling his knuckles toward the hard knot of nerves. "That was one, Pepper. It doesn't make it us finished..." His head falls again to her breast. He teases her with the hard, fast suckling she requested earlier before he moves down her body. More of his own hunger is showing now, his hands are greedier. When he pulls his fingers away from her she groans in dismay, but he just hooks them into the waistband of her pants. He stares at her and waits until her eyes crack open before he slowly pulls them down her legs.

He cups her right foot in his hands, digs his thumbs into the instep and grins as she presses back against him. "I have been staring at your legs for years," he tells her – in case she missed it – while he massages the ball of her foot. Then he sets it against the edge of the bed and kisses her ankle. "Your legs, and your high heels, and the area right above your legs..." He kisses the inside of her ankle. "I think I've actually dreamed about fucking you while your heels are still on. Except in the dream they were more like spurs." His fingers probe the muscles of her calf and he grins as she tenses.

"Tony," she murmurs in a voice he's never heard. "I am about ten seconds away from pinning you to this damn bed. Now will you please stop talking about fucking me and fuck me already!"

The words are punctuated by a firmly delivered smack to the side of his head.

"Hmmm...and here I thought we'd taken the edge off." He kisses her knee, rubs his rough cheek against the inside of her thigh. "God, Pepper...you smell delicious." And he leans forward and quickly drags his tongue up her entrance before she can protest. Her reaction is instantaneous; she lets out a surprised shriek and her hands tangle in his hair before he can do more than swirl around her clit a few times. "Oh shit...." She's trembling. "Tony...!"

He pries her hands loose and steps back far enough that he's safe from her while he unbuttons and unzips his jeans. She's watching him with anticipation out of pleasure-drugged eyes as he steps out of his pants. She whimpers in frustration when he reaches for a pillow instead of for her, but he makes his intent clear as he lifts her hips high enough to slip the pillow beneath them. And then he's placing the foot attached to her good hip back on the edge of the bed. She reaches for him like she wants to touch his erection, but he knows his control is challenged enough without that, so he places a palm on her belly to hold her still as he works the head of himself inside of her....and stops. It's worth resisting the screaming need to thrust that's ringing in the back of his head to see her reaction.

"I'm going to kill you," she says in that voice again. And he knows, beyond all doubt, that she absolutely means it.

"Fitting I suppose," he replies with a single thrust. "I mean, if anyone deserves the privilege, it would most definitely be you." He pulls out, inch by painstaking inch, circles his hips and then bottoms out again.

Pepper's still pinned by her belly, unable to move. It doesn't stop her from griping the sheets on either side of her with enough force to tear. "Come to think of it, killing may be too nice...I'm going to make you suffer instead."

He pulls out, circles again. Then smirks. "You just try to bring it on." He already has the upper hand in their dealings, and he plans on keeping it for a good long time. This time when he thrusts back in, he moves his hand, allowing her to buck up into him. Their gasps combine; a little bit more of his control slips when she wraps her leg around his waist and arches into him as he retreats, maintaining the contact.

"Pepper…" His hands sink into the mattress to either side of her head as he finally stops teasing. His rhythm is hard and fast and punctuated by the way her hips sometimes leap up and grind against him.

And she is so hot, and so tight, and so wet that he can't regret anything except it's taken them so long to get to this point. So he reaches between them and starts mercilessly circling her clit in time with his gradually intensify thrusts. When orgasm hits, it hits them nearly together. She thinks he may have broken first by perhaps a second, but she can't tell the difference. The uncontrollable jerking of his hips seems to be precisely the necessary impulse she needs to throw her over the edge. When it's all over they're both breathing in short bursts, and his legs are shaking so badly he can barely stay upright. "Are. you. all right?" she manages to gasp out. Now she's limp and boneless as she sprawls on her back.

"No." He shakes his head as he slowly leaves her, drawing soft moans from them both. Then he collapses onto the bed next to her. "I am fucking amazing. You are amazing." He kisses her damp brow with all the energy he can find...which isn't much.

"You look ready to pass out. Lay down." And this time the tone is all too familiar and he just wants to laugh. Pepper giving orders at work is precisely two tone levels above Pepper giving orders in far more pleasant places.

That fact, he suspects, is going to get him in mammoth trouble the next time she has a cold at the office.

"How's your hip?" He helps her move into the center of the bed so she's no longer hanging half off of it.

"It's twinging occasionally. I don't really care." She looks at him with what can only be described as mirth in her eyes. "The next time I espouse the wonders of celibacy as a lifestyle, I want you to show a little mercy and just kill me."

"Then you really wouldn't be able to have sex," he teases. "Can I just confine you to my bed until you come to your senses?"

She snorts. "If you think you can out stubborn me."

"What makes you think I want to?" He pulls her close and settles his head against her shoulder. "Are you going to be insulted if I pass out?"

"I'm going to be insulted if you don't" she informs him severely after a moment. "Because I'm going to in about another two minutes."

He just smiles and turns his head enough to press a kiss into her shoulder. "Love you," he murmurs as he drags a displaced sheet up to cover them.

She doesn't say it back. But only, he realizes after a moment, because she's already unconscious.