TONY

I love working on nothing at all.

It helps clear my mind, especially since the only times I can shut it off is while using hardcore recreational drugs or heavily intoxicated on alcohol… which neither is good for my long term health plan.

So most time, I have my music blaring, JARVIS ordered not to let any calls through and my hands just move over my tools – which results usually in things like JARVIS or others like Dummy – it can go either way, if not both at the same time.

Unexplained explosions or fires are now considered a natural hazard in my labs.

Only two people have unlimited access to my things, and one of them is too busy serving his mistress – Lady Liberty – so only one person can currently enter my abode with ease.

And how I adore her visits, especially when she's wearing those short skirts that when she sits up on my desk, my imagination does not need to interfere.

"Hello Pepper. Had a good day at work?" I ask generally, one of my hands going to caress her smooth exposed shin.

"Long day, actually. I just got off a conference call with a few of our overseas shareholders and I really wanted to come home for a bubble bath and a foot massage," she sighs, smile teasing at her lips.

My second hand moves to join the second, going to pull off her heels – only three inches this time – before I move my rolling chair back and then in front of her so I can easily start the desired treatment.

"I live to serve, madam. Have you informed the butler of your wished upon needs?" I joke.

"Actually, we need to talk first," she replies, pulling me forth with her foot, my grip on her ankle making it easier for her.

So I end up hugged between her thighs, my elbows resting over her thighs onto the counter beside her hips. I look up and we're only inches apart and I know this is dangerous because I won't be able to avoid her scrutiny.

And if someone knows me inside out, it's Virginia Potts.

"Did I do something wrong?" I find myself asking as I search my recent actions in which I've been worse than usual.

"I've been told by a little birdie – not Hawkeye – that you've been missing something."

I frown, because she's pretty much a fixture in our group unless she's at work or away on business. She could even be talking about my own creations tattling on me.

But missing what?

"I don't know Peps, everything looks in order, unless you mean corporation relat-"

She cuts me off with a well placed kiss on my lips. I try to return it fully, but she pulls back to talk again.

"You miss a part of your playboy days; the part where I didn't need to kick out the trash, they were courteous enough to leave as soon as you were both done and held no delusions as to their status in your life."

Which was entirely true, not to mention they were quite fewer than my usual hook ups. But still…

"I've got you now, and believe it or not, I'm content to finish my days like this," I tell her truthfully, smiling up into her searching eyes.

The she gives me her smile – the all-seeing, knowing smile – which tells me she can see right through my bullshit – as usual – and she won't put up with it because we both know better.

"I'm not breaking up with you, but I do know I'm not enough. The stimulation I can give you is at best only physical. Sure, I give you ideas, but you need more than ideas," she sighs against my lips. "You need an intellectual challenge along with a physical connection. And we both know where you can get it."

I move back, eyes wide.

Surely, she doesn't mean… but there's that smile again and it's not resentful in the least.

The woman is serious!

"Pepper, do you 'understand' what you're allowing here?"

"I do."

"Then how can you propose it?! As much as I would love the idea of rolling in the lab with the Doctor Banner, I will not cheat on you!"

She's shaking her head before I'm even done giving my outraged speech.

"Not cheating, and it only applies to Bruce. Any other man than him and I will have Miss Romanoff castrate you."

I can only stare at the woman who will eventually bare me beautiful children. If we can ever trust anyone to run Stark Enterprise in our place for a few months… just to remove a 'little' bit of stress during her last months of pregnancy… who am I kidding; she'll run it – pregnant or not – because she's the greatest gift ever awarded to me by the Gods – Norse ones excluded from this metaphor.

"What if he doesn't want to? He does respect you a lot," I point out, just to be difficult.

And to hear her brilliant rebuttal.

"I'll give a written consent, if need be. First, see if he's interested. If he's not, we'll see what the sex shop can offer, hmm?" she hums seductively.

Brain functions, down to seventy percent.

I move back in closer, standing up between her thighs, her arms settling around my shoulders perfectly.

"Can we get that consent notarized?" I quip.

"Only revoked. Start by seducing him, gently. If he's open to you but still reluctant; I'll explain it to him. But no matter what roads we do take, I will not lose you."

And I'd never allow it. Bruce is nice and all, but he doesn't understand all I've been through, unlike Pepper who's been by my side for eons now and has barely ever flinched at the horrors I managed to get myself into.

Especially the tabloids.

"Does that involve a threesome to prove we can all play along together just fine?" I can't help but ask, her lips a breath away from mine.

She laughs.

Just pushes me back, laughing that girlish laugh that is entirely pure and makes my blood pump faster since the first time I've ever heard it.

"Don't scare him off before you've even had him, Tony. Our dear doctor barely trusts the beast not to rip your head off when he's forced to change; how would the Hulk react with a bit of competition should Bruce's excitement bring him out?"

Oh, yeah. That little detail.

"Alright, you win for now, but I do expect it to be down in your written consent that it may happen," I tease.

She's walking, barefoot on my lab floor, on the balls of her feet, like a ballet dancer or as if she still had her heels on. What beautiful legs she uses to entrance me.

"Sure, let's put it at a twelve percent success rate for now. Possibly higher later."

And that's just plain mean for her to bring it up, so I pout as I make my way to her.

"Your own building Miss Potts, I promise."

She hums again and I easily lift her up bridal style, her arms setting around my neck effortlessly as our lips meet passionately.