Ok. I have to admit something to you all-

I have a fantasy about Gwyneth Paltrow hosting her own cooking show. (You know. Like so many celebrities do these days. So it's not exactly out of the realm of possibility for her to be able to do someday, too!) So WHO do you think I would want as her first guest to appear beside her in the kitchen to help out, (even though he admits he's not the most talented person in that department)?

You get ONE guess. ;)

And TELL ME that wouldn't be the best damned cooking show episode you'd ever watch in your life?! Can you imagine?! Hell, I don't even care about what they'd be cooking! Do YOU?! Honestly, they could probably make cooking a bowl of ramen in the microwave entertaining!

ANYWAY-FOR NOW, this is the closest I can come to fulfilling my fantasy (with a touch of smut, for good measure, of course. So, as always, be of legal age, or be gone!)

So without further ado, it's update time! YAY!

Happy Friday!

And Happy Reading! :D

Pepper's standing, naked, in front of the the open fridge door, perusing its contents. And I am standing directly behind her, naked, taking the opportunity to feel her up. Hey. No sense beating around the bush. It is what it is. And I can't ever get enough of her.

"Hmmmmm," she hums in thought, trying to pretend she doesn't notice my hands sliding over her skin, following her every curve. I smooth a hand up her side and trace my finger tips around the curve of a breast, squeezing it gently in my hand before toying with the nipple for a moment. My other hand is on her ass. I squeeze that too, and groan softly, biting my lower lip, as I am thoroughly enjoying myself. God, if her behind was a piece of fruit, I'd take a huge bite out of it right now.

I take half a step back to admire its perfect shape before I step forward again to plant a kiss on one of her exposed shoulder blades. I run the other hand around her middle to the front of her body, and down to that sweet sweet center of hers, just to tease her. And myself. I cup her sex, making sure to envelop my fingers in her folds before I give that a little squeeze, too. Have I mentioned how much I love her body?

I stay on her sex, but I move the hand I had on her ass up her back to sweep her hair over to one side, exposing one very creamy, but lightly tanned and freckled, shoulder. I leave a playful, tongue-flicking kiss directly on the top of it. And leave plenty more from that spot all the way up her neck, where I finish by nuzzling her hair. She's not fooling anybody, by the way. I can see the effect I'm having on her by the trail of goosebumps popping up on her skin in my wake, and the coy smile she's trying to hide on her lips from all of the attention.

I inhale the scent of her skin deeply, and moan. "Mmmmm, I love the way you smell after we have sex," I purr, my words muffled, as I've still got my nose pressed against the nape of her neck, right behind her ear. She giggles.

"Well, for your information, I was supposed to be smelling like body wash right now, until someone decided to invade my shower," she jokes. She closes the fridge door and turns around to face me, smirking. She runs her hands up my chest, and then wraps her arms around my neck. I smirk back, and wrap her tightly in my arms.

"Well, figure out how to turn your sexy scent into a body wash, and everyone gets what they want," I offer. She laughs.

"And what would we call the scent of this body wash, pray tell?" she asks.

I pretend to think for a minute. "Lady Pepper's...sexy...sex kitten...vixen...wash," I rattle off.

She splutters. "Uh-huh," she says, trying not to laugh. "Doesn't exactly roll off the tongue, does it?"

I shrug. "Okay, so the name needs some work, but the idea's a gem," I argue. "And it would sell like hotcakes. Guaranteed."

She rolls her eyes and chuckles, turning back around to the fridge. She reopens the door, and starts pulling things out of it, and handing them to me.

I stack a carton of eggs, a bag of shredded cheese, an avocado, some tomatoes on the vine, and a package of sliced portabello mushrooms in my arms. "Omelet?" I ask, eyebrows raised.

"Awww! Look who's learning!" she jokes, with a teasing smirk.

"Oh ha ha," I snark, as I swivel around to the counter, and set all of this stuff down. "I knew what went in an omelet before I met you, I'll have you know."

"Really? Funny, it never appeared that way," she jabs back.

I give her a snide smile. "I spend time on one little flight back from Monte Carlo failing miserably at trying cook for you, and I get to pay for it for the rest of my life," I whine, sulking.

She gives me a sympathetic look. "It was a valiant effort just the same," she assures me. She pecks my lips. I might be pouting, but I'm not about to forfeit a kiss. So I peck her lips back. She pats my cheek and giggles when the kiss breaks, and I can't help but smile, too.

"Besides," I say, as she leaves my immediate vicinity to walk to the cook top on the other end of the island. I cross my ankles and lean back against the counter, bracing my arms on the heels of my palms. "I thought you liked cooking for me," I recall.

She pulls out her trusty non-stick frying pan it seems like she uses for everything. A whole kitchen full of top-of-the-line cookware, and she's using the same tired pan every time. I don't get it.

She puts it on the burner, and turns on the heat. "I do," she says. "I love to cook for you. I love to cook, for that matter. It's just more fun having someone besides myself to eat what I make," she explains.

She's found a bowl, and starts cracking eggs. I move from my spot. "Can I at least help?" I offer.

She stops what she's doing and turns to look at me, with wide eyes. "You actually want to help?" she asks.

I give her a perplexed look. "Uh...yeah? Why? Is that, like, verboten in your kitchen or something?" I joke, but I'm kinda actually wondering if it's over the line for me to have asked.

She splutters and grins. "No! Not at all! I just...," she pauses, looking at me with a very surprised smile, and shakes her head, like she's amazed that I even uttered the words. Hell, maybe she is. "Okay? I...guess you can...dice some tomatoes?" she offers.

"Tomato-dicing. Got it," I repeat. I start looking around. "So point me toward... the...tomato-dicer," I say.

She tries to hide a laugh by biting her lips together, and shaking head. Then she raises her eyes upwards. "Why am I not surprised?" she mutters under her breath, before turning her eyes back to me. She winces. "Um? By 'tomato-dicer' do you mean...knife?" she asks, still trying to stifle her giggling.

I roll my eyes. "Come on, Pep. Get with it. Nobody says 'knife', anymore," I tease, realizing once again just how inept I am in the kitchen. But in my defense, with cabinets full of every...kitchen-y...gadget you can imagine, why wouldn't I think she'd have a specific tool for this specific job? I've got a boat load of tools that only do one thing in the shop! Isn't this kinda the same thing?

She chuckles. "Fine," she says, with a playful smirk. "Now. Go get yourself a 'tomato-dicer', as you like to call it, out of the butcher block and get to chopping."

I march over to the butcher block and grab the biggest one I can find. Cuz' I figure more is better. Right? I pull out a heavy butcher knife with a very long blade, and grin at its heft. At the expense of sounding macho- that's a man's kitchen knife right there, my friend. "Yeah. That's what I'm talking about," I grunt, as I turn around to walk back to her, gripping the knife in my hand firmly.

She halts in mid crack, and eyes the knife. She eyes me, and then eyes the knife again. "Okay, it would help if you weren't gripping that monstrous thing like a serial killer," she informs me.

I splutter at her joke, and try to stifle my own smile. "Don't try to change me, baby," I reply, narrowing my eyes and trying to keep a straight face. I pause to turn my hand over to hold the knife the right way. "Some tomatoes need to die, today," I say in a husky voice, playing up the drama, of course.

She laughs. "Fine, fine," she says, waving me away. "Then go for it. Slaughter those tomatoes to your little heart's content."

I give her an overly-dramatic, borderline un-hinged, look. "Oh, I will," I say, eyes wild.

She giggles again, and smacks my shoulder. I flinch and smile at making her laugh. Then, I lean in to peck her lips again. She kisses me back before I leave her side to snag a cutting board from a drawer, and show these fruits who's boss.

I grab the tomatoes as I pass by, and take my place just down from her. I pull one off the vine and toss it playfully in my hand before I swiftly jab the point of my knife in its rosy skin. "Hey! You! Yeah, that's right. I'm talking to you," I grunt. "You ready to die? Punk?" I slam it firmly on the board, and slice it directly down its fleshy middle with a brisk flourish, inhaling sharply through my gritted teeth. Then I let out a growling "Ooooo-yeeeeeahhhhh, that feels gooooood." Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Pepper's watching my little display, and chuckling. I pretend like I didn't notice, though I'm fighting the corners of my mouth turning up at her amusement.

I turn each half sideways, and cut them up into pieces as requested. Then I shove the tomato bits to the side of my board with my knife blade, and grab the next one off the vine with a vindictive yank. "Ready join your little buddy, pretty boy? Huh?" I taunt with a growl, and proceed to follow suit with it, as well.

Suddenly, I see Pepper turn her full attention to me, and cock an eyebrow. I turn my head to look at her, and do a double take, like I had no idea she's done this. "What?" I ask innocently.

She's still trying not to laugh. "Um...is this a...sexual thing you're doing here, or..." she shakes her head and shrugs her shoulders. "Are you letting out some homicidal aggression on those poor tomatoes?" she jokes.

I shrug nonchalantly. "I just...really like chopping up tomatoes, Pep," I explain, trying to look like someone who's hiding a secret fetish. "What's so weird about that?" I ask with a defensive lilt.

She breaks her ailing poker face, and starts laughing at my charade. I laugh back. I put the knife down as she's now walking over to me. I wrap my arms around her middle as she approaches, and she pecks my lips. I gaze into those baby blues. She smiles back.

"We make dumb stuff fun, Potts," I remark.

She nods. "We certainly do. Although, I'm usually the spectator, and you're the goofball. So, technically it's you who makes dumb stuff fun," she corrects.

I teeter-totter my head from side to side. "Yeah, but if you weren't here, I wouldn't have anyone to be the lovable goofball for, so..."

We share an admiring gaze, for a moment, and then she looks at me curiously. "I'm sorry? Did I say you're a 'lovable goofball'? I thought I just called you a goofball," she teases, with a smirk.

"Aw c'mon, Potts. You know you love me. There's no sense in denying it," I joke back.

She chuckles. "You're right," she concedes. "I do love you. There's no denying it." And she leans in to seal it with a lingering kiss.

I moan in approval as it breaks, and rest my forehead on hers. After a moment, she turns her head to the side to survey my work. "I think you'd better get back to dicing, Mr. Stark," she tells me. "I'm almost ready for your murdered tomatoes, and you're nowhere near done."

"Alright, alright," I grumble. "But one last smooch before you go, huh?" I ask, leaning in expectantly.

"Okay, one last one," she agrees, meeting my lips with hers. She tenderly kisses me, cupping my cheeks in her hands. Then she breaks away, and tilts her head, giving me a curious look. I sigh.

"Alright, alright, I'm going, I'm going," I whine reluctantly. "Just let me..." I suddenly bend to grasp her behind in my hand, and give it a hearty squeeze, as I do the same to her front. She squeaks, and looks at me in surprise, her cheeks flushing. I pump my eyebrows, and lick my lips. "I am loving this naked cooking thing, by the way," I purr, with a smirk and a smolder.

"Hmmm, you don't say?" she says, her eyes darting down to what's between my legs, and back up again knowingly. Apparently, she's noticed a certain part of my anatomy has become somewhat...alert. He's not at full mast, mind you. But he's certainly...aware of the circumstances.

I bite my bottom lip and I nod, letting out a strained sigh. "Mmmm hmmm," I murmur in reply. "In fact, I vote we cook every meal this way."

She chuckles, and turns so we're skin to skin, front to front. She wraps her arms around my neck, and looks at me wantonly. "Well, get your kicks in now, Stark," she warns. "Because after the baby's born, it's bye-bye to the naked chef show, I'm afraid."

I frown, and pout. "But...we're still going to be like this with each other, right?" I ask. "I'm not going to be suddenly cut off from touching you?"

She smiles sweetly at me, apparently detecting my apprehension. "Of course we will," she says. "And those first few weeks, we know we'll be limited on what we can do together, but..." she leans in to give me a kiss for reassurance. "I know we can be creative in the interim."

I smile in relief, and nod. "You're damn straight we can be creative," I reply. "We are creativity masters."

She giggles and nods, and then swivels around on her heels, heading back toward the other end of the island. I watch those sexy hips sway away from me before I'm forced to concentrate on the task at hand, and take up the knife again. I restart the dicing, and we work quietly for a few minutes.

"I like doing this," I remark.

She gives me a sidelong look and a smile as she's started whisking the eggs she finished cracking. "Yes, you've mentioned," she says.

"I mean besides the naked thing," I say. "I like helping you. And it's something we can do together, you know?" I finish dicing the last tomato, and now I've gotta search for a bowl.

She reads my mind, spinning around to grab one in the cabinet behind her, and she hands it to me. I accept it, and put the bowl level with the edge of the counter, scooping the tomatoes into it. I swiftly hand her back the bowl and she gives me a nod and a smile in appreciation. She dumps them into her whisked eggs, and then starts dumping the mushrooms in after that. I find a towel to wipe off my hands, and walk to where she is.

When I'm done, I sling the towel over my shoulder, and lean my back against the counter to watch her work. "Plus, you get to give me orders, so..."

She scoffs. "What does that have to do with it?" she asks.

I shrug. "Well, I figure you were the one taking orders for so many years from me, that I..." I pause to find the words. "Guess I feel like I owe you one? Or...five thousand?"

She smiles. "It's not a debt to be paid, Tony," she argues. "It was my job. I was your assistant. Of course, it was expected that I'd follow your orders."

"I don't know," I say. "You have to admit I ran you ragged sometimes."

She chuckles. "Oh, I'll tell anyone who will listen that you did," she jokes. "That's not a secret."

I laugh at her needling me. But then go quiet in thought. "Well, just know," I say. She turns to look at me. I wince at what I'm about to admit to her. Or, more like how it'll sound really pathetic and adolescent. "I only did it because...I just wanted you around. Like, all the time," I reveal, rolling my eyes at my own embarrassment.

A soft smile spreads over her lips, and she looks at me knowingly. "I know," she murmurs.

I pull back in surprise. "You do?" I ask. "Did you...even back then?" I ask, gesturing with a jutted thumb to the past.

She chuckles, and nods. "And here you thought you were being so stealthy," she jokes.

I laugh. "Wow," I say in amazement. "And, yeah. I really did."

She laughs out loud. I grin.

Then I shake my head in disbelief. "And you didn't mind?" I ask.

Pepper bites her lips together, and gives me a mischievous grin, just waiting for me to put two and two together.

Suddenly, my eyes go wide, and I gasp. "Whoa," I say, breathlessly. She chuckles. She's probably laughing at what a moron I was, not to realize her motivation for sticking around. It was so obvious. Nobody in their right mind would put up with all of the shit I put her through unless...

"You wanted to be around me, too," I deduce. "That's it, isn't it?"

She starts laughing even more, and nodding. "And it only took you a decade to figure it out!" she teases.

I start laughing. "Hey. What can I say, Potts?! It's a 'cooking-naked-in-the-kitchen' day miracle!" I cry in astonishment, pumping a fist in the air, which earns a hearty belly laugh from her.

We fall to pieces laughing, and I pull her into my arms, to hold her close. She wraps herself around me, and we take a moment to enjoy each other until the laughter starts to subside.

When it finally does, I pull back to gaze into her eyes, and she's beaming, staring into mine. "I love you," I tell her. "I mean I really...love you," I repeat, my words emphatic.

She smiles coyly. "I love you, too," she replies, her voice a sweet, soft murmur. "I mean really," she teases.

I smile. And then I bend down so I'm eye level with her stomach. She lays her hand lovingly on the back of my head as I do it. "You heard it. You're my witness. Write it down in case she forgets," I say to our baby.

Pepper just giggles.