Prompt: Tony can do anything. Apparently not.

Saw the Avengers last Saturday. And honestly I can't think of anything to write about it. A lot of people came out of the theatre bursting with ideas, but I haven't a one. At least that I'm capable of doing. I contributed to that wonderful two hundred million dollar sum that they got at the box office. :D And I'm super excited it broke a record. Hands down, one of the best movies ever, and I'm definitely seeing it again. Robert was soooo, wow.

Just thought I'd let you guys in on some unknown info to you. This story, so far, has had (as of this moment) thirty-four thousand eight hundred and sixty-eight hits since it was uploaded. Thirty six favs and forty two alerts. And I just really really wanted to thank all of you for making it possible. This is the most popular story I have going, and I every time I go back and look, I get all excited and warm and fuzzy. You guys are awesome, and I will never be able to thank you enough.

So my friend, is painting me something Iron Man themed, and I have to say that it looks absolutely AWESOME. So not only am I writing her a Big Bang Theory fic with her in it (and me :D) I'm dedicating this chapter to her.

This is mostly dialogue than anything. Just sayin'.

Disclaimer: Me no own the man of iron.

Was he really?

No, that didn't seem like him.

Why would he?

What is it?

Would he care if I knew?

Should I go ask?

Curiosity go the better of Pepper Potts as she peered through the large window wall keeping her from entering Tony Stark's man cave. Whoever told Tony that these walls were sound-proof lied, because music blared right on through, lyrics muffled.

She input her number on the keypad, and was met with the ear-drum splitting guitar solo.

"Jarvis, volume twenty five percent please," she said, and the music lessened considerably.

"Don't turn down my music!" Tony bellowed, not looking up from his latest project.

"What are you doing now?" Pepper asked, walking over to the stool he was seated on. She took the one next to him.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" His voice was low, his intense eyes never moving from what his hands were working with.

"Making a mess?"

"Why do we always answer questions with questions?" He rubbed his nose quickly, leaving a small trace of clay there.

"If I had more time to think about it, I would've answered with a question."

"Wouldn't have doubted it."

He still hadn't even glanced at her. And truthfully, she still had no idea what he was sculpting with that clay.

"What are you making?"

"Figure it out Potts," he half smiled, pressing the clay very flat in one spot.

"Ummm," Pepper thought about it. The glob of clay didn't look like anything really, "Jello?"

"Funny." He deadpanned.

"I give up."

"That fast? Wow, you really tried Pep." He shook his head, glancing her way for the briefest second.

"I'm not good at guessing. Just tell me what it is."

Tony let go of a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, "It's a…"

"It's a what Tony?"

"I don't know," he finally admits and looks up at her, with that I-Just-Got-Caught-With-My-Hand-In-The-Cookie-Jar face.

Pepper bursts out laughing, "Seriously?"

"Go back upstairs Potts," he turns back to the clay and continues to fiddle.

"No," she giggles, "I think I'll help."

"I don't need any help."

"Agree to disagree."

He hums in reply. Not having a sarcastic remark to make back.

"What do you want to make?" Pepper asks after a minute.

"A car."

"Okay, so try," Pepper smiles encouragingly, handing him a new blob of red clay.

Tony messes with it for five minutes then holds up his masterpiece. Let me put this nicely: It didn't look like a car.

"Voila," he smiles widely, enough to crinkle around his eyes.

How can I say this gently? Pepper thinks.

"That's a car?" She laughs instead.

His smile quickly turns into a glare, "Thank you Miss Potts, that'll be all."

"Come on Tone, I'll help you," She smiles, "I took art class in twelfth grade."

"I skipped twelfth grade!" He bellows, and the sound echoes through the large room.

Pepper's shocked. What's gotten into him? She gets up and stands behind him, putting her hands on his shoulders.

"Why are you so sensitive all of a sudden?"

He doesn't answer.

"All these amazing things that you can do; fly, fight evil, save the day. Own a company, drive really fast cars, and have the coolest computer known to man," Pepper grins, squeezing his shoulders, "So you can't sculpt clay, who cares?"

He smiles so she can't see.

"What's up Tony?" Pepper's concerned now. He hadn't made any remarks in there.

"Ulterior motives," he grins wider.

"And what would those be?"

"Getting you to be all Pepperish over me. It worked."

She wasn't even going to think about where he got that word.

"How exactly?"

"Well, I'm hoping," he spins around on the stool to look at her, "that you won't say no when I tell you two simple little words."

Pepper raises her eyebrow in question.

"Dinner. Dancing."

"Oh, but you see Mr. Stark," she smirks, backing away from him, "I have work to do."

"If you," he says, dangerously, grabbing her arm and pulling her to him, "have time to play with clay, you have time to come with me."

"Think of all the e-mails that'll pile up," she whispers, grinning, "I can't neglect them."

"Don't make me fire you so your afternoon is free."

"You could try." And with that, Pepper swiftly moves toward the door.

"Pick me up at seven."

That night when he picks her up, there's a little box sculpted out of clay on her seat in the car. Inside are a pair of pearl earrings, and she feels bad about laughing at his "car."

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