The total profits for the garage sale ended up at nearly one hundred and seventy two thousand dollars, and the media was playing it up as another one of Tony Stark's outrageous follies, interviewing buyers who gloated at having a second-hand appliance 'personally repaired by Tony Stark!'

"I'm never using this for cooking!" One rich matron declared to Hollywood Access, "It's going in my bedroom!"

Tony sneered at the screen as he peeked up from Diablo's tail lights. "What was the point of buying it if you weren't going to USE it?" he argued back for a moment.

"Psychologically speaking, it's known as the 'glamour effect, sir," Jarvis told him. "The mistaken belief that items you have touched, used or in this case repaired hold some permanent mystical connection to you, the world-famous Tony Stark. Your tactile imprint is akin to the King's Touch."

Tony looked impishly at his right hand, which was currently covered in engine grease. "In that case, there are a lot of breasts out there—"

Diablo rumbled warningly just as Pepper came down the basement steps, and Tony guiltily wiped his fingers on his jeans. She had a clipboard in her hand and her expression hinted that she had less than happy news.

"We're getting cited for Diablo," she announced. "He needs to be smog inspected."

"Ah," Tony sighed, "Yeah, part of making him street-legal. All steps in responsible ownership."

"Speaking of responsible ownership," Pepper murmured. "We take the trio in tomorrow for their um, minor surgery."

Tony's face fell. "So soon?"

"Better for them to never know what they're missing," Pepper advised, tongue firmly in cheek.

"The boys will know," Tony muttered balefully. "And they'll hold me responsible!"

"Mr. Stark, their little gonads aren't even half the size of a kidney bean," Pepper pointed out, "And Queenie's ovaries are probably no more than peppercorns. Minor surgery."

"Size isn't supposed to matter," he deftly countered, "and while I know why it's being done I'm not exactly cheerleading the process. The thought of knives along that section of anyone's anatomy is cringeworthy."

"Noted," Pepper sighed. "I'll take them in if you'd rather not go, Tony."

"No, no," he muttered, "I'm the kitty daddy and I'll go."

Pepper moved closer to him, handing him the clipboard and pointing to the line near the bottom. She took advantage to murmur softly, "So far the press from the garage sale is supportive, and Mr. Kelley has gotten offers to be a guest auctioneer at a couple of state fairs. I think he's flattered."

"Good, good," Tony replied, "at least that worked out. Smog inspection---the big D isn't going to like that."

The car rumbled in agreement, and Pepper laid a hand on Diablo's back panel soothingly. "Looks like everyone in the basement is due to see the doctor. Maybe I better check your records too, Tony."

"No, no,no,no—Not getting anything snipped and certainly not getting anything up my tailpipe. No."

"Says the man with a portable nuclear reactor imbedded in his chest," Pepper murmured serenely. "Getting a vasectomy along with the boys would be quite a show of solidarity, now wouldn't it?"

"Love them, but not willing to go quite that far," Tony muttered. "Call me selfish, but no."

"Fair enough," Pepper responded. "We'll pass on the physical for now, and oh, and I have a small . . . request to make."

"Mmm?" Tony looked up from the clipboard at her and she couldn't quite meet his eyes, which he found both suspicious and arousing.

Demure Pepper always brought out his stalking instinct.

"I'd like to take Diablo for a drive this week."

Immediately the sound of 'I Can't Drive Fifty-Five' blared out of Diablo's speakers for a moment until Tony shot him a glare and the volume went down immediately. He turned back to Pepper, who was smirking. "Explain?"

"Is one required?" she countered coyly. "It's not as if you don't have a car or two to spare."

"I do, but this is a special car," he replied slowly, having fun drawing it out. "A car that we've just determined isn't street-legal. Where were you thinking of taking him?"

"Out," Pepper replied. "If the answer is no, just say so, Tony."

He put on a pout, batting his eyelashes at her in a flirtatious move that backfired when she burst out laughing. Amused himself, Tony ran a finger along Diablo's side panel. "Tell you what—you can take him. You can drive him . . . if I can come along."

"Oh I don't think that would work," Pepper countered. "You think anyone going under eighty is repressed and an affront to your personal need for speed."

"True, because most of them are."

"Tony . . ."

"Look," he offered, "We'll get the kittens taken care of and leave them with the doc, and then take Diablo for whatever drive you want. I'll stay quiet and enjoy the ride, okay?"

Pepper stared at him, weighing the offer. She suspected that Tony knew very well what she was going to do, and the fact that he was willing to let her do it spoke volumes about both trust and something more.

Something beyond just being friends.

She drew herself up and nodded. "Okay."

"Okay? So . . . we have a date tomorrow?"

"It's not a date," Pepper corrected."We're going on an outing."

"Rrrrrright. An outing," Tony mouthed, trying not to smirk. "An ouuuutttting."

"Since we're going to need the cargo jet, then yes," Pepper replied serenely, "an outing. I'll make sure we have the clearance. Will that be all, Mr. Stark?"

"For now," he murmured softly, watching her go. As Pepper passed through the glass security door and up the steps, Tony shifted his gaze to Diablo, his glance keen and speculative. "You. You have some explaining to do."

'Girls Just Want to Have Fun' came from the car's radio speakers.

Tony snorted. "Sure, but why do I get the feeling this is a bit more than that?"

The music shifted to 'Suspicious Minds' and this time Tony rolled his eyes.

"Look, in all the years I've known Potts—and that's been several now—she's never shown the slightest interest in driving, racing or speed above and beyond its use to get me to some place on time. What's with the thrill of driving you?"

Diablo gave a low rumble, and very faintly, the sound of 'Born to be Wild' echoed through the garage, making Tony shake his head in disbelief.

*** *** ***

The desert out beyond Barstow was flat enough and far enough from civilization to suit Pepper; she had the jet lower Diablo on a cable platform, quietly directing the operation as if she'd been doing it all her life. Tony sat beside her in the car, whining a bit about how he could have carried Diablo out here in his Suit, and Pepper ignored him, one hand on the wheel, one hand on her headset.

"All right, set us down just here—" she directed firmly, "and thank the marine base for the clearance for me, Josh."

"No problem Miss Potts," came the amplified voice of the pilot.

Next to her, Tony looked out across the desert, his fingers twitching slightly in anticipation. He knew that the zero to sixty time for a 'Cuda was just under a minute, which for a manual car that wasn't bad, particularly a US non-racing model. He also knew that the top speed for the vehicle around him was about a hundred and forty if it was just off the factory floor and in prime condition.

The sentience though—that might change things, and Tony felt reasonably certain that Diablo would have a few surprises.

The cable platform met the desert floor with a flush of sand and dust; by remote, Tony unhitched the anchor bars and chains from around Diablo's chassis. The car rolled off the platform and halted about twenty yards from it as overhead, the cargo jet recoiled the platform up into its underbelly and the doors closed once it was inside.

The pilot spoke again. "All clear, have fun and watch out for coyotes."

"Will do, Josh, and thank you," Pepper called back before clicking the headset and taking it off her head. She handed it to Tony, who shot her a dry look.

"What am I supposed to do with this?"

"Glove compartment I guess," Pepper replied absently as she placed the key in Diablo's ignition. "Do you have your seatbelt on?"

"Yes, mom," Tony quipped back, rolling his head towards her. "Will you just relax? I have been known to race a car or two in my day."

Pepper didn't even look at him. She wrapped her long fingers around Diablo's steering wheel, sighing gently. "Okay, Diablo. I'll let you handle the speed, but you've got to let me do the steering, okay? I've got to have some modicum of control here, otherwise I'll . . . well, I'll have a very hard time with it."

"She will," Tony chimed in. "Potts isn't a complete control freak, but she is used to the reins of power."

Overhead the cargo jet was already a distant dot in the sky, and the bright sun of mid-afternoon blazed all around them through the untinted windows. Pepper took in a deep breath and squinted out through the windshield. She slipped on a pair of sunglasses.

Tony fought a pang of lust. Pepper in sunglasses was hot.

"Okay, let's . . . drive," she murmured. Smoothly, Diablo rolled out, the warm heavy rumble of his engine vibrating through the chassis, and Tony leaned back in his seat, smirking.

Then Diablo accelerated, and the jump slammed them both back into their seats as the car took off with all the fearlessness of a rocket.

Pepper cried out; not in fear, Tony realized a second later, but in delight. He shot a sidelong look at the woman, stunned at her crow of triumph. She was grinning, and relaxed, her grip on the wheel light and loose.

"All right Diablo, good start, good start! Now let's really crank it, what do you say?"

Dumbfounded for a moment, Tony felt Diablo increase his speed yet again, and the rumble sounded organic now, in low panting. It was like riding a rocket tiger, and the speedometer was jumping past ninety while behind them they left a dust trail pluming as thickly as the tail of a comet.

"You're getting off on this!" Tony accused over the sound of the engine, feeling rattled on both the physical and emotional level. "Admit it!"

"Shhhhhh, just enjoy the ride!" Pepper called back, and turned her attention to the wheel. "Go, Diablo, Go!"

The car took Pepper at her word and roared on, racing up the long miles in a rumble of bounces and thrums as the frame shuddered in the speed. Inside, Tony was dimly glad for the seatbelt, and realized that for all his love of velocity, most of it had to do with being the one in charge of it. This passenger business wasn't nearly as much fun, although the look on Pepper's face quelled his urge to whine about it.

She was gorgeous, smiling, bouncing—he definitely liked the bouncing when it came to her--and in general, having the time of her life. A girl on a rollercoaster; a bareback rider on a bronco.

Tony bit his lips, feeling a rush inside himself that he couldn't define; couldn't avoid or dismiss anymore. There were no seatbelts for insight, though, and the tumble of feelings within his soul couldn't be neatly held back now.

"Pepper—!" he blurted. Before Tony could get a word out, the radio blared, the music so loud he could practically feel it on his skin.

Not rock this time, not even English. Confused, Tony stared at the radio grille, wondering why the hell Diablo was playing opera. Not playing it; blasting it in full stereo. Now Pepper looked confused, and glanced over at Tony.

"Why is Diablo playing Celeste Aida?"

"No fucking clue," Tony lied, cluing in immediately. The most romantic of all Verde's arias, the one where the warrior secretly in love with the slave girl sings about how he adores her and would win battles for her—

Shit.

The damned car had figured it out before he had.

Love.

He was in love with Pepper.

Not just lust, not just fun for the sake of fun attraction, or even friendship with benefits, but---

Tony slumped a bit, stunned, and let the seatbelt hold him down while Diablo warbled on and took a gradual turn to the right.

Pepper began to sing along with Jose Carreras, her hands expertly turning the wheel, and the sound of her voice mingling with the Italian tenor made Tony shut his eyes, overcome for a long moment.