Wallace Haverstock is a tall, thin and curly-haired Englishman with a wickedly dry sense of humor and an impeccable eye for photography. He'd started at a news photographer and moved from that to fashion and portraiture, gaining an international reputation for striking work; consequently, he is often in demand, but was now free to choose his projects.

At sixty-three he is a quiet figure in rolled-up sleeves and dark slacks, and the woman who carries his camera equipment and hands him things clearly adores him. Pepper notes they wear matching wedding rings and smiles; their age difference has to be thirty years or more, but it doesn't seem to matter, given the quiet tenderness between them.

"Tony, you're looking well. I'd followed the official story about your captivity in Afghanistan with some *serious* concerns." Wally murmurs, coming into the living room and eyeing the light through the windows absently.

"I'm good, Wally, although there are some . . . extenuating factors about today's shoot that you need to know about," Tony tells him, looking serious. This in turn makes Wally look serious, and he glances at his wife.

"Indeed?"

"Yeah, as in non-disclosure forms, Wally. I hate to do that, but it's essential."

One of Wally's eyebrows goes up, but he takes a deep breath and nods. "Very well. Lydia and I are more than willing to sign. What's this all about?"

After the forms are notarized by Pepper, Tony gives a deep sigh, and unbuttons his shirt. The arc glows; the Haverstocks are slightly stunned.

"Good God, Stark—you look like a Tucker Sedan!"

"Oh very funny," Tony mutters, a tiny bit amused at the comparison; it's a car joke, and that helps.

Wally studies the arc critically. "So the glow is constant? What's the ampage?"

Tony beckons the photographer over and they both peer down at it. Lydia shoots Pepper a bemused glance. The story of the arc comes out with a few questions, and afterwards, Wally cocks his head, staring at it.

"We can airbrush it out," he nods, "Take the depth shadows out of the shots and keep your magic battery out of the public eye. It's . . . it's an incredible achievement, Tony, and I've never doubted your genius, but I think you've rather surpassed yourself this time."

"I have my moments," Tony shrugs modestly, "But this brings us to another problem, namely the um, *other* aspect of these shoots—"

"The crumpets," Wally smiles. "Yes indeed, I did wonder why we didn't have company this morning. Rumor has it you've changed a bit since your kidnapping; gotten more . . ." Wally trails off, looking for the right word.

Pepper fills it in. "Mature." She shoots Tony a quick proud look that makes him blink a little.

Wally smiles gently. "Indeed. Well, given the nature of what you've done for GQ in the past, it stands to reason that we truly should have at least one female model to work with. After all, the clothes-buying public still consider you to be the ultimate playboy, and sex does sell the merchandise. However, given this little complication---" he glances at the arc and purses his mouth "We may have to call on our immediate resources."

Tony turns and waggles his eyebrows at Pepper, who realizes a moment too late what that implies. She stiffens and takes a step back. "Oh no, not me!"

"Okay then, but that would leave Mrs. Haverstock—"

Wally's shaggy white eyebrows go up. "I hardly think *that's* a viable course, Tony. I need Lydia to help set up the lights and handle the technical details of the shoot; she'll be *far* too busy to romp with you in *any* capacity."

"Romp?" Tony mutters, a grin lighting up his face. Lydia, who still has not spoken, rolls her eyes. Pepper looks slightly panicked.

"But I haven't . . . I'm not professional . . ."

"You have natural poise and cheekbones to die for, as the saying goes. I consider your ability to . . . wrangle . . . Tony Stark a decided plus," Wally tells her, adding, "What I have in mind will hide your identity, Pepper, so you don't need to be concerned on that front."

"How are you going to do *that?*" she wryly asks, still highly reluctant, but curious too.

Wally smiles. "There are ways, my dear. And remember—nothing will ever be published without the approval of the both of you. You have complete control."

Pepper wants to close her eyes; Tony has the quivering look of a hopeful puppy, and although it's not being said directly, she's well aware that saying no will throw off the entire shoot. She's too responsible a person to do that, while at the same time, her sense of exasperation is rising a bit.

Then Tony completely disarms her. "We can always pass on it, Pepper. I don't owe GQ anything, and it's just a PR stunt."

"I . . ." she sighs, "I'll do it."

*** *** ***

The photo spread for the December/January issue ends up selling *very* well, and the resulting numbers mean a bonus for the Haverstocks, and Tony's name being bantered about on the social scene in a way that hasn't happened in a few years. Pepper keeps an issue for sentimental reasons, blushing at the memory, but tucking it away in her files, along with the proofs and the file of unused shots.

Tony is more boisterous, and has his favorite shot blown up and framed, hanging it in his private executive washroom at Stark Industries.

There are seven photos in all, each of them an interesting presentation and full of intrigue, humor and of course, style.

The first photo is in Tony's bedroom. He is stretched out seemingly asleep on his stomach, barely covered with a sheet, one muscled arm dangling down towards the carpet, a handcuff on his wrist. The neatly laid out David Marcus slacks and coordinating polo shirt are draped elegantly over the end of the bed, and sitting next to the ensemble is a woman in full French mime makeup, texting on a cell phone. Her curly blonde hair, white pancake makeup and sweet crimson lips; her beret, striped shirt and long black leggings make an amusing contrast to the understated elegance of the bedroom.

The second photo is of Tony in a business suit of charcoal with black shirt and black silk tie, the bold ensemble especially striking given his natural coloring. He is standing in front of a desk, a business report in one hand and an ink and blood-stained polo mallet in the other. There are two bare feminine arms coming around his torso, one hand adjusting his tie and the other toying with the zipper of his fly. Tony looks both smug and salacious.

The third is of Tony standing at a fish scale on a pier, proudly displaying his prize catch. He's decked out in sunglasses, a green and gold Island Bango Hawai'ian shirt and white khakis, complete with suede loafers. Hanging upside down next to him is a beautiful mermaid, long red hair nearly touching the pier, her hands crossed protectively over her bare breasts. She's wearing sunglasses as well.

The fourth photo is Tony's favorite, It's a simple one shot in black and white, with the woman's face hidden in shadow. He's in a Mont Noir tuxedo and so is she, the lines beautifully cut on both, her shirt unbuttoned, bow tie dangling, to reveal an expanse of collarbone and long sleek neck. He is nuzzling that neck, the edge of his goatee brushing it as one of her hands rakes through his dark hair. The camera has caught his half-closed eyes, and look of intimate pleasure, as well as the red rose dangling in her other hand.

The fifth is Tony Stark staring down the length of an extended dueling epee, dark gaze merciless as the point of his sword presses into a gun-wielding stuffed platypus sitting behind the wheel of a Ferrari. Tony is outfitted in a Blanco Torido lightweight cream linen suit with red and gold tie. Trussed up in the passenger seat of the car, is a blindfolded brunette in a Waffle World waitress uniform.

The sixth photo shows a wedding cake in the foreground, a frosted creation with six tiers and at the top, two small robots on it, claws linked. Tony is standing off to the side, champagne in one hand, his expression thoughtfully amused as he toasts the happy couple. His Malinbois formalwear is dark wool with a watered silk cummerbund of burgundy complete with matching tie. A robot in a lace veil has a knife and is preparing to slice the cake, while on the other side, a mysterious woman in a bridesmaid dress is lighting a stick of dynamite.

The seventh photo has Tony stretched out on a chaise lounge by poolside, his Nasite striped cashmere sweater and Manfred slacks looking nice against the canvas of the chair. Resting on one of his shoulders is a long, bare woman's leg, foot in an exotic gold sandal. Tony is nipping one of the straps, his hands caressing the leg playfully, his intentions clear. Out against the horizon of the Pacific, the sun is a brilliant purple, setting into a sea of bright orange.

*** *** ***

Shopping for Tony Stark is . . . difficult, Pepper realizes. She's never had to buy him anything *personal* before, and this complicates matters. Tony has always been the sort to go out and get whatever he wants or needs, so trying to find something he's denied himself is next to impossible.

Still, there are things that she knows will put some comfort and beauty into his life, so she sets about trying to surprise him, consulting with Jarvis and Rhodey and even Happy to pick up what clues she can. All three are a wealth of information, and Pepper is by turns amused and appalled with their replies, which are fairly frank.

One thing has been on her mind, though. Something Tony has not-so-subtly pushed for, and that is for her to move in. Pepper has resisted, citing one reason or another, but her reluctance is crumbling in the face of the truth. The mansion feels more like home to her now than her apartment does. She has more plants at the mansion, and has—subtly—rearranged the kitchen there.

But it's still a big commitment, and her cautious little soul still longs for the security of a place not stamped with Tony's personality in every corner. On a whim, she asks Jarvis a question.

"What does Tony do when I leave?"

"Precisely, or in a general sense?" comes the return query. Pepper sighs at the AI's literal-mindedness.

"Generally," Pepper requests, her attention on her laptop. Tony is currently in Pasadena at a state-of-the-art engineering conference that she knows full well would bore her to tears. He's probably having the time of his life, and out of her hair for the moment.

"He wanders around for a while, talking to himself in self-pitying tones, then either takes on intricate modifications to the Iron Man suit, or dismantles one of the automobiles in the garage. When he has sufficiently tired himself out, he takes the pillow from your side of the bed and sleeps with it either in the workshop or in the greenhouse," Jarvis tells her.

Pepper looks up, startled. "You're kidding."

"I do not have that capacity, although I am gaining some credible forays into irony," Jarvis replies in smooth tones.

"He sleeps in the garage?"

"On Sunday nights always; it is his consistent pattern. He complains that it is difficult to sleep without your presence, and that the constant readjustment is . . . annoying."

Pepper fights a grin; chances are very good that Jarvis is modifying Tony's actual comments to spare her feelings. She closes a few windows on the laptop and looks up, towards the ceiling. "Jarvis . . . how would Tony react if I were to . . . move in?"

"Favorably. Your presence here has a calming and stabilizing influence on Tony, as evidenced by your many years of association with him. The further development of your personal relationship has brought forth a deeper trust and respect for you as well. While Tony is undeniably brilliant, he is prone to all the uncertainties, doubts and fears of a human man, and your presence does much to reassure him that he is worth loving."

This elegant little speech makes Pepper blink; she purses her lips, not sure whether to laugh or cry a little. Finally she clears her throat. "Is that your way of influencing me?"

"Yes," Jarvis without guile. "One of my primary functions is to optimize Tony Stark's life, and currently you are the most beneficial factor in it, Miss Potts. You give him a clear reason to continue his missions and to return from them. Never underestimate how devoted he is to you."

Tears are threatening now; it's one thing to know Tony loves her, and quite another to hear it from a source as dispassionate at Jarvis. She shuts down the laptop and rises, sniffling a bit. "So you think it would be a good idea for me to . . . come live here?"

"Indeed," Jarvis assures her, "It would be an honor to have you in residence, Miss Potts. I would be delighted to help you make the transition smoothly and quickly at any point you choose to join the household."

"Thank you," Pepper tells him. "I think it would be nice to be asked, first, though. Formally, you know."

"That would be wise," Jarvis agrees. "And since Tony prefers to believe that *he* is the source of excellent ideas, and the matter will flow more smoothly if I arrange so that he believes that of this one. Allow me to suggest an appropriate setting and wardrobe."

Pepper laughs, wiping her eyes. "How . . . devious of you, Jarvis."

"Deviousness is not in my programming, Miss Potts, but my learning curve regarding Mr. Stark's personality *does* reach parabolic diameters at times."

*** *** ***

Happy drops Tony off, nodding at the overflow of chatter from the back seat, glad to see that whatever the conference was about, Tony is in a good mood. Tony is going on and on about microcircuits, shift-phase engineering and a slew of other topics that nobody but Jarvis would understand. He waves Happy off and carries his own suitcase in, calling out greetings and wondering why the lights are so dim.

When he reaches the living room, he drops his suitcase, stunned, since it's now clear that Pepper *is* here, and is welcoming him home. She is lounging on the sofa—slightly self-consciously—in the tiny Victoria's Secret pale pink satin bra and panty set with matching garter belt, white stockings and six inch Lucite heel stilettos.

"Holy crap!" Tony blurts, swaying a little.

"Hi," Pepper murmurs, and rises, stretching in a glorious move that would normally make her feel extremely self-conscious. The fact that Tony hasn't blinked yet is giving her confidence a boost though, and she slowly saunters towards him, the stilettos tapping lightly on the stone floor. "Good trip?"

"Huh?" is all he coherently gets out before reaching for her and pulling her into his arms. Pepper breaks the sensual mood of the firelight, lingerie and seduction by breaking into giggles. Oddly, this only makes Tony more enthralled, and he kisses her, letting her splutter against his mouth for a few moments until mutual desire refocuses her attention to him.

"You know you're not going anywhere for the next two—make that three days," he informs her in a low, no-nonsense voice. "except over the couch, or on the bed, or maybe on the kitchen table if we're making a snack run. God you look exceedingly hot. Bed. Now."

"Missed me?" she asks, licking his ear and making Tony shiver. He shoots her an impatient sidelong look as his hands stroke her hips, pulling Pepper up against his body.

"Very much. Making up for lost time starting now," Tony assures her. "Are we good with this? And please say yes; it's not nice to make a grown man cry."

"I don't want you to cry," Pepper whispers to him. "I just want you on your knees."

The groan he makes is intensely satisfying to Pepper; a low hungry, helpless sound, deeply masculine, slightly frustrated and very Tony. He moves forward, forcing Pepper to back up the steps until she bumps into the grand piano, the cool lacquer against the small of her back.

Tony gracefully drops to his knees in front of her, fingers hooking into the hips of her panties, tugging them down until they slide to her knees. Pepper sucks in a surprised breath as a surge of arousal jolts through her entire frame. So hard, so fast--she looks down; Tony looks up at her, his gaze dark with lust, his hands stroking her thighs. "How perfect is this? And I tell myself, absolutely. Oh let me *kiss* you, Miss Potts."

Pepper grips the piano behind her and nods, whimpering a little herself as Tony's mouth lightly brushes her curls, his hot breath making her nipples tighten almost painfully. He nuzzles, lips moving gently, sensually against her cleft, and the sudden flick of his tongue circling the stiff bud of her clitoris has her clenching hard, trembling to stay standing. Tony tugs the panties off, lifts one of her legs, and drapes it over his shoulder to give her support and allow him better access to her honeyed muff.

And oh, how he kisses her.

She can't count how many times she peaks, rising from one shuddering climax to another, softer slower one, but it seems to go on and on. Pepper cries out, whimpers and groans, begs and finally reaches a hand to his hair, tugging it, her body limp and unable to take anymore of the maddeningly intense torment. He rises up, unsteady himself, and looks at her with a desire so intense it damned near burns.

Pepper speaks, her words slightly rushed. "Condom?"

His tormented gaze is answer enough, and she reaches for his fly, undoing it, tugging Tony's pants and boxers down, caressing his warm, throbbing shaft in her hands. "Good thing *I* have one then, isn't it?"

She fishes in her bra and pulls out a condom, unwrapping it quickly. Tony takes it from her, rolling it on with remarkable speed, tossing the wrapper aside as he shifts, pressing against her, slipping into her with a low growl of pleasure. "Ever thought of changing your last name to Stark?"

"What?" Pepper asks, dazed, but Tony is sliding one hand under her knee and pinning her hard against the side of the piano now, slick and strong, thrusting into her, his mouth against her throat.

"Loveyou,yeahohhhGodyeahsofuckingHOTunnnnnghhh," he growls, his words indistinct but his lust enthusiastic. He kisses her, and Pepper can taste herself on his mouth.

She pulls back a moment, her voice soft. "I love you, Tony."

He comes, hard and shuddering against her body, muscles tight, face buried against Pepper's shoulder, arms locked around her.

When he can breathe, Tony pulls up his pants, manages to guide her to the sofa and they collapse on it together. He cups her face in his hands, looking at her intently. "You're staying. You can't give me this sort of a welcome home and not expect me to want you here whenever I get back, Pepper. It doesn't have to be this sensual every time, but it gets harder and harder to see you go, and I really, really want you here, I want you to *want* to be here. Please, move in."

Pepper smiles, and nods.

Tony gives a huge sigh of relief, kisses her hard, and flops back against the sofa, pulling her to him. He and Pepper stay that way for a few hours.