I think I need the whiskey, I think it might be love...

I've just had post, and it's addressed to my PA instead of me. I haven't seen her since she threw ice cold water over my head this morning. It's some massive box from some company I've never heard of. Begins with a 'H'. In a capital letters of course so they think they're important.

But it's brilliant to be woken up thinking you're in the Arctic. It was fucking freezing too!

Anyway. She's not taken those awful creations off her feet for the past week. I'm still annoyed with her about it, but I'm not going to say anything. It's Friday anyway, which usually means that I have a gala or a party or something awesome to go and do that isn't work. (Not that I do work)

This Friday night is reasonably the same. I have some stupid event to attend and the company will probably win the awards it's up for and then I'll have to make a speech about how thrilled we are...blah...blah...fucking blah and then get very drunk on whiskey, find myself a sexy woman or two to take home with me and screw till the morning light.

But I don't get Friday night without having the rest of the day first. Yay.

This is another day of meetings and boredom and following Pepper about like a well-trained dog until she gets annoyed and tells me to go away and let her be the responsible one. I think my record for making her that annoyed is about ten minutes. I just wasn't built for meetings, especially not with people I find boring about boring things. If I could have meetings about mechanics and designs and interesting things then I would go! I go to every single meeting with the R&D department here at the company but apparently that doesn't count for anything in Virginia Potts' head.

Where was I? Um...whatever it was obviously wasn't that important.

My mind is currently running away with itself today, I was up half the night in the lab with DUM-E. I taught the bot how to make smoothies, took a lot of work but now he can make me something other than toast for breakfast. Might even taste of something that's not machine oil, he keeps putting it on the toast. Next time he does that I'll feed it to Pepper.

So, today I'm not planning on doing my work as always and teasing her until she makes me go away. I need the day to get ready for this evening. She's just marched in here, horrible heels and wearing a dress that's showing off her legs, Pep really does have the best legs in the business. And she's daydreaming again. Brilliant.

I don't like this 'boyfriend' she has. He's eating her IQ points slowly. One day she'll come in here and have the same IQ score as one of those stupid blonde things I drag home on a night.

"Yo Potts, You in here for a reason or come to admire this sex god?" I ask her, forcing her to pay some attention to where she's walked into, leaning back in my chair and spreading my legs with a smirk.

"You're late." her attention is back on me in seconds flat, her lips pulled into a scowl as she gazes at me. Luckily for me, her gaze does wonder down to my crotch, but that lasts even less time than the time it took for me to see her scowl again: "We have somewhere to be." And Pepper's turned to leave before she gets distracted by what's between my legs again.

I'm going to milk this, watching her leave, and watching her ass wriggle, which it does and I'm not going to tell her because I enjoy the sight. Before something suddenly comes back into my mind to whack me around the back of the head: "I have post for you."

Pepper stops the doorway, looking around at me curiously: "You do?" Obviously it's got her attention. Was she waiting for this or something? Forcing myself to my feet I pull the box out from behind me, shoving it on the desk between us.

Her expression changes when she notices it, I've never seen that look before. And it's adorable, like someone's given a kitten its first bowl of cream. Pepper crosses the room again with a smile that completely replaces the scowl and there's a sudden spring in her step.

"It that from you?" There's an almost hopeful tone in her voice as she reaches for the box, pulling it closer as I relax back in my reclining chair. Her gaze runs over it, and I don't quite know why I like watching her eyes so very much. They're the most fantastic shade of blue-green and she's wearing her glasses. As much as I know my strawberry blonde hates her glasses and the tinnitus that keeps giving her headache they're just part of what makes her...Well, her. Most girls aren't any interest at all further than what's between their legs and what colour their hair is, but I could seriously write a book about all the things that make my pepper-pot special.

"Maybe?" I can't help but tease her a little as she pulls at the tag on the box, flipping it over in her hands from the side that's displaying the weird company logo that I can't recognise or know the name of.

It's that moment that she stops, and I can watch the blush filling her cheeks. It spreads from the spot each side of her nose, across her cheek and ignites each one of her freckles so they're all glowing. It runs all the way along to her ears. Seems the more she focuses on the words on the label the darker her blush becomes.

Most normal men would have taken that as a cue to leave, but I'm Tony Stark, so the word normal never reached my ears, or my brain, or any part of me particularly.

"Who's it from?" I can't help but ask, grabbing for the label but Pepper keeps it out of my grasp, shifting the box closer and reaching for the scissors from the pot of random crap on my desk.

She's not taking any notice, obviously that parcel must be important or just interesting. But I'm still not going to go away, I'm watching this. Running the scissors through the tape she slit it open, tearing back the packing and making short work of the cardboard box.

I'm glad I wasn't that box.

Pepper smiles as she pulls free a massive bunch of red roses. And I don't mean a dozen, I mean about three with strange green leaf things mixed in and wrapped in ribbons and it's stupid.

Stupid like the expression she's pulling as she pulls them all into her arms, hugging them to her chest as she buries her face into them.

I can't see Pepper for the flowers, but she's giggling. It's the sweetest noise, but it's not FAIR! Who's making her make this noise?! And it's not me.

"Who are those from?" I ask haughtily, leaning back grumpily in the chair and crossing my arms over my chest.

She gives a very long look as she peeks up at me from the bouquet: "My boyfriend!" she points out, not putting the bunch down.

"He bought you flowers? Seriously?" I ask, pretending not to care, or have noticed her reaction to the horrible things, they're starting to make my office smell weird. It's like she'd open a box of poison or something.

I never thought I'd get annoyed at a load of plant heads.

"Isn't that a bit of a cop out?" I carry on; leaning forwards slightly to glare at the murdered red blobs she was still holding: "All women want flowers, its dull. A real man would have made an effort."

"A real man?!" She scoffs, giving me a sideways look from over them: "Like who? You? Mr Stark, You're too busy being a billionaire playboy genius philanthropist to make a real man."

And then she's gone, marching off with an armful of roses and a huff. Her words hurt. A lot.

I AM a real man! I Am!

And I'll prove it to her. I can find something better than those stupid dead plants.