4. Double Date

Tony and Bruce might finally have found a way to locate Loki's scepter, and celebrations are in order. Pepper is happy that the Avengers' war with Hydra might finally be over, but her attention turns toward the still dormant spark between Bruce and Natasha when their celebrations offer a unique opportunity for a little matchmaking.

The screech of the fire alarms in Avenger's Tower was not an unusual sound in the life of Pepper Potts. She expected it, really, after years of living with Tony and Bruce and their never-ending experiments. Small fires were commonplace in their labs, but Tony had developed a quick response system that doused any blaze before it could become a threat. So Pepper had learned to ignore the sound over the years; the alarm rang often, but never for long.

The alarm had been blaring for two solid minutes when Pepper finally looked up from her morning coffee. Tony really should have been able to take care of whatever the situation was by now. And if not Tony, then Bruce should have handled it. She felt the first niggle of real worry and sighed.

"Jarvis?" she called to her empty office.

"Yes, Ms. Potts?"

"Why is the smoke alarm going off?"

Jarvis paused for a moment, evaluating. "There is a concentration of smoke in Mr. Stark's laboratory," he reported at last.

"And is Mr. Stark also in his laboratory?"

"Yes, Ms. Potts." The niggle was quickly becoming a low-burning fear.

"Is he alright?"

"His vital signs are slightly elevated, but within the normal range."

"Then why — nevermind. Call him for me, Jarvis. Tell him that my eardrums can't take much more."

Jarvis fell silent for an extended moment. "I don't believe he can hear me, Ms. Potts."

Pepper couldn't decide whether she was angry or worried as she swept out of the office. When it came to Tony Stark, there wasn't always a difference between those two emotions.

The fire alarm was a grating accompaniment to her elevator ride down to the lab, and Pepper was beginning to wish that she had a pair of earplugs as she finally approached the entrance. She wished even more fervently when she could feel the music in the lab vibrating through the floor and walls even before she could make out that she was hearing Black Sabbath.

The thin blanket of smoke crawling underneath the door caught her eye before she could work up a good righteous fury. It was dissipating into a haze around the doorway, and Pepper's irritation evaporated with it.

"Jarvis —" she began, but the doors were already opening. Pepper clapped a hand over her mouth and nose and took a step inside. "Tony?" she called, and was immediately seized by a coughing fit. The air carried an almost electric scent and the smoke was stinging in the back of her throat. Only it didn't smell like smoke at all. The mist clung to the ground like a high-stacked carpet and swished around her ankles as she took a few more steps. It was almost like…

"Dry ice?" she wondered aloud, and felt her irritation returning with a vengeance. "Tony!" she called, and started coughing again.

"Pepper?" She could just barely hear his voice above the cacophony of the music. She turned and finally saw him descending the stairs from Bruce's lab. The "smoke" appeared to be leaking from Bruce's lab and sliding down the stairs with him. Tony's broad grin suggested that the music had drowned out the definitive note of anger in her voice.

"Jarvis," Pepper called in a tight voice. "Turn the music down."

Tony's lips were moving, but she only managed to hear what he said after the music faded. " — and we're celebrating!" Tony finished, and winced when his shout was abruptly loud in the surrounding silence. "Is that the fire alarm?" he added, glancing upward in surprise.

"Tony," Pepper ground out. "What on earth are you doing down here?"

"One second, Pep. Jarvis? Kill the alarm, please."

"With pleasure, sir."

Pepper's ears were finally met with the blessed relief of silence. "Tony, did your dry ice set off the smoke alarm?"

"It looks that way," he observed with a shrug. "I didn't realize it would be triggered. Jarvis, make a note: I need to upgrade the system. If it can't distinguish between dry ice and actual fires, that'll put a damper on all my parties." His eyes strayed back to her and his lingering grin finally faded. "You're mad at me," he observed, and took a single, uneasy step backwards. "Why are you mad at me?"

"Maybe it's because I've had the alarm ringing in my ears for too long, and you weren't responding to Jarvis, and I was actually worried about you —" she trailed off with a huff.

There had been a time when Tony would have dashed away the moment she became agitated; now he stayed put and nodded carefully. She noticed the longing glance he cast at the door, but his urge to run away became endearing when he fought it. "I'm sorry, Pepper," he said immediately. He stepped forward to place a hand on each of her arms. "I didn't mean to —" But he halted in the middle of the justification and changed directions. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too, Pepper," Bruce's voice came down the stairs ahead of him. "We got a little carried away."

"Carried away?" Pepper asked, curious despite the lingering shakiness of a few minutes' worth of anxiety. "With what?"

"Celebrating," Tony explained, and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. "Honey, we've cracked a tracking algorithm that we think will lead us straight to Loki's scepter."

That explained the impromptu party. Tony, Bruce, and the rest of the Avengers had been after Loki's scepter for months, taking down dozens of Hydra bases all over the world in search of that one key piece. If they could find the scepter, then they might finally be finished with their globe-trotting war on Hydra. If they could find it, they might finally have won. Pepper suddenly felt a little more inclined to forgive Tony for his careless celebrating.

"You're sure it works?"

"Pretty sure. We're running it now. Hopefully we'll get a definitive hit on the location by tomorrow. But now, we celebrate." Tony grinned at Bruce. Bruce was too busy coughing into his sleeve to reciprocate.

"Tony, can we turn off the fog machine?" he asked with a rasp.

"Party pooper," Tony muttered. "Jarvis, you heard the man."

"This is how you're celebrating?" Pepper asked incredulously. "With a rave?"

Bruce snorted with laughter, but he deftly shifted it into another cough when Tony glared in his direction.

"I haven't even started the laser show yet," Tony muttered. "What would you suggest?" he added in response to her raised eyebrows. She decided to ignore the petulance in his voice. And he had been so mature just a moment before.

"I don't know," Pepper mused. "How would you like to celebrate, Bruce?"

Bruce looked so shocked by the question that Pepper nearly laughed. "I don't know," he answered after a moment. Of course, Bruce sometimes had to be cornered into offering his opinions.

"Wait," Tony interjected suspiciously. "You mean you weren't into the party in the lab idea?"

"Not particularly." Only Bruce would look so abashed about not enjoying something.

"Why didn't you say something?" Tony complained, looking taken aback and offended all at once.

Bruce rubbed at his neck for a moment before he finally offering a shrug. "Uh…I did."

"Alright, fine. I can take a hint," Tony went on, his petulant voice back in full force. "What would you like to do?"

"Tony, we don't have to celebrate at all —"

Tony shushed him loudly. "I'm trying to figure out what you like to do. Help me out, Pepper. Bruce likes old movies, peace and quiet…" He sighed in despair. "Yeah, this isn't going to work. None of these things are any fun."

"Tony —" Bruce tried again.

"Yeah, I know. If you had it your way, you'd drink tea and listen to some of that godawful opera…" Pepper saw the epiphany flare behind Tony's eyes. "Wait, that's it. Pepper," he said, spinning to face her, "Don't we have a box at the Met?"

Well this conversation had just taken an interesting turn. "Yes," she replied. "But I'm tempted to take issue with your use of the word 'we.' You've never gone."

Tony ignored that and forged ahead. "Let's go to the opera!" he proclaimed, and looked very pleased with himself.

Bruce's eyes met hers over Tony's shoulder. He looked incredulous for all of two seconds before breaking into a triumphant grin. "It's happening," he mouthed to her, and managed a tiny fist pump before Tony turned back to him. Pepper used Tony's preoccupation to return Bruce's victorious grin.

Tony was in full project planning mode now, and nothing could stop his momentum. "Bruce, do you own a tux?" He paused and shook his head as if to clear it. "Maybe those dry ice fumes had a bad effect — I can't believe I just asked you that question. Jarvis, get Bruce an appointment with my tailor." Jarvis acknowledged the command, but Tony was already onto the next item. "Pepper, buy yourself a gown. We're going to do this right. Also, we're having drinks after, because if I have to listen to singers shrieking for three hours, then I sure as hell have to drink myself into a coma so I can forget the trauma." Pepper should have been irritated by Tony's continued condemnation of high art, should have been too exhausted for an entirely new emotion to surface after the trying emotional gamut she'd been through that morning, but a softness stole over her that Tony noticed immediately.

His frantic energy calmed when he paused to ask her, "What?"

"I've always wanted to go to the opera with you," she admitted with a shrug. Tony's smile was soft and completely lacking in sarcasm or self-congratulation. It was her smile.

"Why didn't you say so?" he asked, gathering her hand into his. "I would have endured anything, even the fat lady singing, if I'd known you wanted to go."

"Why don't you two go?" Bruce interjected quietly. Pepper glanced his way and noticed that he'd wilted a little. His smile was kind, but shuttered.

"What?" Tony protested. "Bruce, we're supposed to be celebrating. Me and you."

"I don't want to third wheel your date…" Bruce started, and Pepper abruptly felt guilty about having a moment in the middle of things. She was on the point of insisting that they would all go together when Tony's gleeful grin distracted her.

"I would say that you could be my date, Bruce, but you know how jealous Pepper is. She'd vote me off the Stark Industries board and I'd die in the street. I don't even know my social security number." Pepper sighed, but couldn't quite stifle her laugh. Bruce looked as though he wasn't sure which part of Tony's troubling statement to touch first.

"How do you not know —" he started at last.

"Bruce, I'm sorry," Tony interrupted with a close-lipped grin, sarcastic in the extreme. "But we're just not meant to be." Bruce cast a glance at the ceiling and Pepper wondered if he was gathering his thoughts — or praying for patience. A tiny smile broke over his face at last.

"Alright," Bruce conceded. "Let's go. But I am not your date. Don't you dare say that to any reporters."

"Party pooper," Tony reiterated, but he grinned.

"You're very generous, Tony," Pepper interjected slyly. "But I'm pretty sure Bruce could do better than you."

Tony's attention shifted with the speed of a bullet. "Ha, better than me? Big words, coming from my girlfriend. Name one person who's a better date than me." Checkmate, his smile proclaimed.

"Well," Pepper started, not entirely certain how she was going to end the sentence.

"Is everything okay in here?" Natasha Romanoff's voice from the doorway was a sudden reprieve. She kicked at the dissipating swirl of fog around her ankles. "Normally you boys get the smoke alarm under control faster than that. Thought I should check in." She glanced at them with a smirk. "You having a party without the rest of the team?"

"Natasha Romanoff," Tony declared. "I didn't know you cared."

"Who said I cared about you?" she returned smoothly. "You alright, Bruce?"

"We're fine," Bruce answered. His faint smile quickly progressed toward a smirk. "More than fine, actually. Tony's going to the opera."

Natasha mirrored his smirk, and Tony tried for righteous indignation in the middle of the sarcasm storm. As Natasha congratulated Tony on his taste, Pepper was distracted by a horrible, wonderful idea.

She'd realized some time ago that Bruce and Natasha had a thing — an infatuation, a crush, feelings, whatever she wanted to call it — and she'd been hoping that they would make some progress with said thing. Judging by Bruce's stiff posture and the way he maintained a good two feet of distance from Natasha as she wandered closer, Pepper hazarded a guess that they still had not acted on it. Tony's silence on the subject was another mark in favor of their continued stalling; if he had caught wind of a romance, he would have been flinging jokes and insinuations with the enthusiasm of a chimpanzee with a pile of feces.

Of course, she reminded herself, Tony wasn't always the most insightful when it came to the softer emotions. This was the same man who had spent time with her on a daily basis for years before announcing that he loved her. It was a "sudden revelation" he'd said. Pepper had narrowly avoided banging her head into a wall.

On the other hand, she was usually right in her assessment of the feelings of others. She'd known how Tony felt about her before he did, and she was certain of Bruce's feelings for Natasha. Natasha herself had been a little harder to pin down, but Pepper was certain there were feelings on that side as well.

If she did this, she would be the worst sort of meddler. She'd be a child playing spin the bottle with other people's lives. But if she didn't…

She looked at the soft smile Bruce aimed at Natasha, and thought that it would be a shame if they never pursued whatever it was that hung between them. So she set her shoulders, took a breath, and pushed.

"I have a solution to our third wheel problem," she began. "Natasha, how would you like to come with us? We can make it a double date."

Bruce blinked twice before he finally looked as though he had processed her words. Then he looked as though he was hoping to sink beneath the floor. Pepper almost felt guilty for forcing the issue, but she caught Natasha's half-smile and all hint of regret evaporated. She knew they had a thing. The sudden tension in the room was just more proof that they hadn't acted on it yet — and more proof that they needed to.

"I'm sure Natasha doesn't want to go," Bruce said with a laugh that was just a little too cheerful.

"Why don't you ask me and find out," Natasha suggested evenly. Her face was unreadable. Bruce, on the other hand, was clearly cycling through a spectrum of emotions that ranged from confusion to something like panic.

"Um…okay," he assented at last, pulling off his glasses and folding the legs with precise care. He glanced up at Natasha uncertainly. "Do you?"

"Well, I've actually got something I need to do tonight —"

"See, I told you —" Bruce pointed at Pepper with his glasses, and spoke with the air of a justified man.

"— but it's nothing I can't get out of," Natasha finished with a shrug.

Bruce's triumph deflated and the look he wore wandered between happiness and disappointment. "Oh. Um. Good, I guess. Okay." Bruce looked as though he couldn't think of a single thing to say, but Natasha was already filling the silence by asking for details about their plans.

Pepper hated herself for meddling. She was too old and too sensible to be playing Emma Woodhouse with two friends. But as she watched the tension between Bruce and Natasha fade and settle into silent commiseration over Tony's vague and unhelpful answers to Natasha's questions, she felt certain that she would hate herself more if she didn't at least try to give them a push.

Pepper was more than satisfied with Tony's wide-eyed reaction to the gown she'd chosen for the opera. It was long and sleek, and a nearly electric shade of blue. More importantly, it was daringly backless. Tony loved her backless dresses. It took him a full two seconds to speak after she entered the room; Pepper mentally declared victory.

"Honey, you look stunning," he declared as he stepped forward to take her hands. "Let's go to the opera all the time."

"I'll hold you to that," she threatened, but her smile ruined it. Over Tony's shoulder, Bruce was staring out one of the windows of the massive multi-tiered space that served as the Avengers' common room. She couldn't see his expression, but even his back looked pensive. She pushed away the flare of uncertainty about her romantic machinations. She'd decide whether or not to feel bad about it later.

For now, she focused on the fact that she'd never seen Bruce in a tux.

"Bruce? You alright over there?" she called. He turned, blinking away his thoughts.

"What? Oh, I'm fine. Just uncomfortable." He grinned sheepishly and gestured at the tuxedo. It was quite a sight, Pepper had to admit. She was so used to seeing Bruce in a lab coat and glasses, that she almost didn't recognize him in a tailored black jacket and waistcoat. His hair was half-tamed with mousse as though he had attempted to comb it back, given up in the middle, and left it to curl as it would.

And he was wearing a bowtie.

Bruce tugged ineffectually at that bowtie as Pepper wondered whether Natasha had ever seen him dressed to the nines. It was a good look.

"Bruce," she started, stepping around Tony. "You look amazing." Bruce and Tony wore matching expressions of astonishment and it took the space of a few rapid blinks for Bruce to turn bright red.

"Uh, thanks?"

"No, really," Pepper insisted, perversely enjoying the scowl she felt rather than saw growing on Tony's face. "Turn around for me."

Bruce performed the most awkward spin she'd ever seen, but when she laughed, it was only because she was delighted with how wonderful he looked. He could use one last touch, though. "Hold still," she instructed, and reached up to ruffle his hair just slightly…

The curls loosened and fell more naturally. "Perfect," she declared, stepping back to admire her work. Even with her relatively limited knowledge of technology in this particular room, she thought Bruce resembled a computer error screen as he stared at her, and then at the floor.

"Thanks," he repeated. It still came out as a question and Pepper shook her head and smiled. She felt Tony's sulk growing behind her before she turned and saw it. She slipped an arm through his.

"You look good," she whispered. "And unlike others in this room, you already know it." Tony recovered his good humor immediately, and Pepper sighed. It never did take much.

"Now where is the final member of our opera squad?" Tony wondered aloud, glancing at the ceiling as though Natasha might appear in the rafters.

Although that was probably a distinct possibility given some of the stories Pepper had heard about the Avenger's missions. She threw a glance skyward as well, before rebuking herself for being ridiculous. Bruce was still staring fixedly at the ground.

The click of heels echoed in the hallway, and Tony turned immediately. "Along came a spider," he said by way of welcome. "At last, I might add."

Pepper knew she should turn and say hello, but she lingered for just a moment, her curiosity burning to see Bruce's reaction. He looked up at last. His eyes went wide, and his bowtie bobbed when he swallowed hard. If Pepper had held any lingering doubts about his feelings for Natasha, she would have banished them at the sight. His eyes flicked to Pepper's, and all she could read was a distant, formless panic. She hesitated for a fraction of a second before mouthing, "Perfect," in his direction, and giving him a discreet thumbs up. Bruce's confused stare cycled rapidly through a gape, a blush, and finally settled into a bewildered smile. Pepper turned to greet Natasha.

"Ms. Romanoff. So glad you could join us."

"Glad to be the fourth wheel, Ms. Potts," she answered with a demure smirk of her bright red lips. Her hair was pinned back into a loose pile of curls above a one-shouldered black silk dress that only accentuated an already incredible figure. The skirt was loosely contoured until it ended at the knees, and her black, peep toe heels gave her an extra four inches of height. In that get up, Natasha Romanoff was even more of a force to be reckoned with than usual. Pepper would have thrown Bruce another supportive look, but Natasha was far too observant for those sorts of games to go undetected. Natasha was already looking in Bruce's direction anyway.

"Bruce," she acknowledged.

"Natasha," he replied. He waited a moment too long, but he finally added: "You look beautiful."

"You don't clean up so bad yourself," she fired back, lifting an eyebrow at him.

Tony, ever the bull in a china shop, blundered right through their moment. "Car's ready," he said, his eyes glued to his razor-thin touchscreen. "Let's go see an opera." He offered Pepper a gallant arm, which she took with only a little sarcasm.

They made it three steps before Natasha announced that she'd forgotten her coat. "You go ahead," Bruce said, when Pepper and Tony turned back. "We'll take another car and catch up." He looked distantly confused, as if he wasn't in complete agreement with the words coming out of his mouth. Pepper stifled a grin and pulled Tony towards the door when he started to offer to wait. This matchmaking thing was entirely too much fun.

Pepper loved going to the opera. Sitting in a private box surrounded by the lush tones of a world class orchestra and watching the finest singers and performers in the world was her idea of a relaxing evening. The Metropolitan Opera was a particular favorite. She supposed it might have something to do with seeing the stars mingle with the lights of New York City as you approached, the glimmering spray of the fountain outside the doors, and the golden light that beckoned from the windows of the entrance. Even Tony looked impressed as they made their way towards the lobby doors. Pepper led the way to the box that Stark Industries had gained as part of an enormous corporate sponsorship deal; Tony glanced appreciatively at the prominent Stark Industries logo emblazoned on their programs as they found their seats.

"Would you look at that," he flapped the program in her direction. "I'm everywhere." His smirk telegraphed quite clearly that he was expecting a retort, and she was only too happy to provide one.

"Our company is everywhere," she corrected, thumbing through the program. "And if you'd had your way, there would be no Met sponsorship."

"This is why I signed my company over to you, honey. You have all the judgment and all the taste." She was just beginning to smile at him when he added, "Well, a lot of the taste." He caught her exasperated look and she saw the moment he decided against quantifying how much taste she had. Tony refrained from specific percentages these days, after a certain twelve percent remark had never stopped haunting him.

Pepper watched in amusement as Tony scanned the auditorium from the chandeliers to the plush crimson seats to the heavy golden curtains obscuring the stage. Below, the seats were half filled and the aisles were clogged with a lazy stream of opera-goers. The crowd glittered almost as much as the crystal chandelier overhead. A handful of the pit orchestra was warming up, and the sound of flutes and violins and timpani drums mingled with the steady hum of conversation around them. Tony leaned back in his chair and Pepper recognized his growing boredom in the sudden tap of his fingers against his armrest.

"What are we watching?" he asked with a yawn. Pepper refrained from pointing out that he had a program literally at his fingertips.

"La Bohème," she supplied instead.

"That's the one with the people who fall in love and die?" He paused and gave her a look. "You know, I think I just described the plot of every opera."

Pepper couldn't help her laugh. Tony grinned and pulled his chair closer to read her program over her shoulder. His beard scratched her shoulder when he finally rested his chin there.

"You smell wonderful," he commented with interest.

"Be good," she answered. "Bruce and Natasha will be here any time now."

"Where are they?" he complained, sitting up to glare at their empty seats. "I'm committing auditory suicide for Bruce's sake and he can't be bothered to show up? And how long does it take a super spy to find her own coat? She can find anyone in the world and she can't find that?"

"My ears are burning," came Natasha's voice from behind them. Pepper laughed at Tony's flinch of surprise.

Bruce's voice was next. "Sorry," he started as he hurried into the box, apologizing before he'd even found his seat. "I've been wanting to see the Met art gallery, so we stopped by before we headed this way. We got turned around on the way up."

Pepper glanced at Natasha's impassive expression as the two of them took the empty chairs on the right side of the box. She was sure that Bruce might have gotten lost inside the building, but she didn't believe for a second that Natasha had. Nevertheless, Natasha didn't contradict him, and the two of them fell into conversation over a single program.

"Bruce, I hope you appreciate this musical bullet I'm taking for your sake," Tony said in a pained voice.

Bruce looked him in the eyes quite solemnly, and his lips barely twitched as he replied. "Thank you, Tony."

Tony nodded and waved off the remark. "I'm an amazing friend," he sighed to himself. Bruce grinned and turned back to Natasha.

The lights dimmed and the oboe player far below led the orchestra as they tuned for the performance.

The first half of the opera ended with thunderous applause and the lights came up for the intermission. Tony, fast asleep against Pepper's shoulder, finally stirred. "Is that the end?" he slurred, rubbing at his eyes and blinking. Pepper felt a great deal of satisfaction in informing him that it was only the intermission.

"Oh God," was Tony's only response, followed by something about getting some drinks before he disappeared from the box. Pepper sighed.

Natasha said something to Bruce, too soft for Pepper to hear from two seats away, and she too slipped through the door to join the crowd flowing past. Bruce turned his chair to face Pepper and smiled. "You enjoying the performance?" he asked, grinning knowingly as she strained fruitlessly to smooth the wrinkles Tony's face had pressed into her satin dress.

"It's been a long time since I've seen La Bohème," she replied, finally giving up on her dress, and settling back into her chair. "So this has been wonderful. If only Tony had an attention span greater than a five-year-old…" she trailed off with a sigh. Bruce laughed and glanced through the program absently. Pepper's eyes wandered to the door.

"Where is Natasha headed?" she asked.

"Champagne run," Bruce answered, still buried in the program. He blinked and looked up. "Sorry, I should have asked if you wanted some."

She waved him off. "Tony will bring some." They fell back into silence and Pepper toyed with the idea of speaking bluntly about the situation brewing between Bruce and Natasha. The night was going well, after all. She still wasn't sure of the wisdom of poking at two so profoundly reserved people, but Bruce generally responded to open communication. The seconds ticked by, and Pepper knew that if she wanted to speak to him alone, she was running out of time.

"So," she started casually. "Are you going to do something about this?"

Bruce looked up from his perusal of the cast bios. "About what?" he asked, his eyebrows contracting in confusion.

Pepper took a deep breath before the plunge. "This thing with Natasha." she clarified, choosing a very careful, calm voice. She felt like a little girl in riding lessons again, trying not to spook a horse. Bruce spooked anyway.

"This — what?" His eyes went wide and his lips pressed into a thin line as he looked away from her. He pulled off his glasses and stared at them with unseeing eyes. "There's no thing," he said, finally, and his voice was somehow firm and incredulous. Pepper wondered if he was trying to convince her or himself.

"Oh, there is definitely a thing," she insisted gently. "I don't want to pry, but you two seem very happy when you're together. So," she repeated, "Are you going to do something about this?"

Bruce's face wandered through something like anger, but it faded before she could be sure. When he finally met her eyes, all she could definitively see was resignation. "I'm not saying that there is a thing," he started, and he sounded like a teenage boy denying a crush, "But even if there was…" he sighed heavily, and for just a moment, she saw past his wall of control and calm, and caught a glimpse of something empty in his eyes. "It's impossible, Pepper. You know that." His voice was flat and lifeless, drained of the energy he'd had only moments before, and Pepper fought hard against the swell of guilt in her chest. This was certainly not impossible, she reminded herself. Evidently, someone needed to remind him, too.

"That's exactly what I thought about being with Tony before it happened," she started earnestly. "Personally and professionally, we could never get on the same page."

Her words rolled off his stony expression, but she could tell that Bruce was listening. He wanted to change his mind, she was certain. "I think our situations are a little different," he said at last. He had slumped a little since she'd steered their conversation into dangerous waters, and Pepper recognized the wall he was hastily building around himself. Bruce always did have a way of defending himself against hope. She made one last attempt to halt his progress with the barrier.

"Are they?" she suggested softly. "A lot of things seem impossible until after the fact. This might not be as impossible as you think." Something flashed in his eyes; Pepper thought it might be hope.

She had one eye on the door, so she saw Natasha slide into the box a moment before Bruce did. She leaned in to whisper: "Besides, I'm sure she likes you." She sat back, and smiled in greeting at Natasha as Bruce stared at her in undisguised shock.

Natasha held out a champagne flute for Bruce; it took him a moment to click his jaw shut and accept it with murmured thanks. Natasha's eyes flicked quickly between the two of them, but she didn't ask any questions as she reclaimed her seat beside Bruce.

"Got you something," she said in a voice that was almost teasing.

Bruce looked dizzy. "What?" he managed, setting the champagne flute aside and staring uneasily at it.

Natasha dropped a plastic bag from the gift shop into his lap. "Happy Opera," she declared flatly.

Bruce stared at the bag as though it might rise up and bite him. He gingerly pulled out a paper-wrapped lump and pulled at the paper until a shining black mug was revealed. Keep Calm and Go to the Met was printed in yellow capital letters on both sides. "Mood control and opera," she said with satisfaction. "Your favorite things."

Bruce's smile was slow to appear, but it practically glowed once it did. "Thanks," he said softly, and rewrapped the mug with great care.

Bruce retrieved his champagne flute and raised it in toast. "To your impressive present-buying skills," he said with a crooked grin.

Natasha smirked, but shook her head. "We need a better toast."

"Here's looking at you, kid," Bruce corrected himself, and Natasha clinked their glasses with an approving smile. Bruce's eyes wandered briefly to Pepper's as he set his mug carefully under his seat. She just raised an eyebrow at him. He quickly looked away again, but it didn't escape her notice that he stared in Natasha's direction for the rest of the intermission.

Tony finally reappeared just as the lights were going down. He too was bearing a bag from the gift shop, and Pepper watched curiously as he unwrapped his package, drawing a multitude of disapproving stares toward his loud crinkling of plastic. "Okay, I'm ready," he said as he finally freed his purchase from the bag. Pepper could just make out the object in the dimming lights.

Tony had bought a pillow.

Tony mysteriously regained the ability to stay awake once they returned to the Tower and drifted to the bar in the common room. He insisted that he had enjoyed the opera as he mixed drinks.

"It wasn't so bad," he said as he pushed a drink towards Pepper.

"You mean you enjoyed the five minutes that you were awake?" she hedged with a wicked grin. Natasha smirked and Bruce was mostly successful with stifling his laugh.

"It was a wonderful five minutes," Tony shrugged. "And the nap was even better. Drinks?" he asked in Bruce and Natasha's direction.

"No," Natasha replied. "I think I'll turn in. I can only handle so much excitement in one night."

Goodnights were exchanged and Pepper was disappointed when Bruce didn't follow her. Natasha disappeared into the elevator, and Pepper noted with distant surprise that the floor numbers climbed past the domestic floors, toward the roof. Bruce remained at the bar, fidgeting uneasily with his bowtie for several minutes before he too offered a goodnight and disappeared into the elevator. Pepper couldn't help but notice that the elevator made the climb to the roof a second time.

"What are you smiling about?" Tony asked after a moment.

"Nothing," she shrugged. "The opera was fun. We should do it again." Tony's panicked expression was only slightly less satisfying than Pepper's certainty that Bruce and Natasha were going to have a fighting chance.

As Pepper left for Los Angeles the following morning, she felt certain that she would soon be on the receiving end of a call from Tony to announce that Bruce and Natasha were an official thing. She wondered how outraged he would be about missing the signs. It might be fun to mention it a lot for a while.

She did receive a call from Tony in short order, but instead of news about Bruce or Natasha, he was bearing news of the success of their algorithm, and the capture of Loki's scepter.

"We did it, Pepper. We got the scepter. It's all over." Tony was throwing an enormous party in the Tower to celebrate. "Can you come? I fixed the smoke detector problem."

"Tony, sometimes you say things to help your case, but you don't help your case at all." She meant to sigh, but smiled into the phone instead. "I wish I could come." Tony was disappointed, but he rallied his good humor and chatted absently for a few minutes until Bruce's voice asked him a question and pulled him back into whatever feverish project they had going. Stark Industries business monopolized her attention for a full three days after that.

Then came the Ultron crisis. News reports on the situation were sporadic and hardly ever confirmed, and Tony's brief messages didn't offer much clarity. She wasn't able to gather much beyond the fact that some of his Iron Legion bots had gone haywire and were causing damage. She didn't even have enough information to hold a press conference. Tony wasn't answering her calls; when she wasn't dodging reporters, she worried.

The first real news came in the form of viral videos from Johannesburg. The Hulk and Tony's Hulkbuster suit were recorded by a thousand phone cameras and news cameras as they smashed up half the city. The airwaves quickly filled with calls for the arrest of Bruce Banner, and Tony and the rest of the Avengers completely disappeared from any official radars. The lack of messages left her terrified.

The bizarre reports from Sokovia shortly afterward didn't help. Tony finally called her, and the exhaustion in his voice made her chest ache. She met him at the Tower, and didn't let him out of her arms for several minutes. She wanted to hear the entire story, wanted to yell at him for creating something as reckless as artificial intelligence, wanted to cry and hug him for much longer, but she forced herself to take things one at a time.

"I saw the videos of Johannesburg," she started, her arms still clutching at Tony's. She forced herself to loosen her grip. "Are you okay? Is Bruce okay?"

Tony took a moment too long to reply. His face went blank with the exception of the distant pain that flared in his eyes. "Pepper," he started, and the regret in his voice made her heart stop. "Bruce is gone."

Notes: I'm a terrible person, because I made an Emma Woodhouse reference connected to Pepper...and Gwyneth Paltrow played Emma in the 1996 adaptation. In my defense, I thought of the reference a millisecond before I made the actress connection. ;)

I'm an even more terrible person for this ending. But don't come after me with pitchforks and torches just yet — there's one more oneshot in this series!

Bruce: You want me to help you put Jarvis into this thing?

Tony: No. I want to help you write a review.

Bruce: I'm caught in a loop!

Tony: It's not a loop. It's the end of the chapter.

Please review!