"Chew your food," Steve said, quickly, worried that the little boy was going to choke trying to talk with his mouth full.

Sam looked at Peter, speculatively, and then at Natasha, who frowned, understanding immediately what he was thinking.

"No."

"What? Aw, come on Nat. The guys are already going to be here. It's not like we're setting the game up, or anything."

"They're playing for money and Tony wouldn't approve of exposing to Peter to any of it."

"I already know how to play," Peter pointed out, uncertain what Sam was trying to talk her into, but wanting to make sure she understood. "I'm exposed."

"See?" Sam said. "He's exposed. We're just going to experiment. To see what he can do. We're going to experiment, tomorrow, anyway, right?"

"On his abilities," she said, with a scowl. "Not on his gambling prowess."

"We're experimenting on me?" Peter asked, interested.

"On your belly," Romanoff told him. "Yes. Not how well you play cards."

"Those are abilities, too," Wilson said, reasonably. "Help me out, Steve."

Rogers shook his head.

"Peter's just a little guy. He shouldn't be gambling."

"What if we just had them playing for candy?" Sam looked at Peter. "You'd play poker for candy, wouldn't you?"

"Yeah."

The boy looked eager.

"They're not going to want to play for candy," Natasha reminded Wilson. "We can set something up for him, later."

"Please, Natasha?" Peter begged, his eyes large and hopeful. "I could do it. Really. It isn't even dangerous."

"It is dangerous," she disagreed. "Tony will kill all of us."

"What if Stark says it's okay?" Sam asked. "Fury and the guys play for chips. Theirs can be money, Peter's can be worth m&ms or something."

"Plain or peanut ones?" Peter asked, looking interested.

"Whichever you want. I'll call Tony and ask. You just look cute in case he wants to talk to you."

"Okay."

"Sam…"

Steve didn't look convinced – although he did look a little curious.

"We need to know what he can do, right?"

Peter was still holding his taco, but he looked at Rogers, excitedly, and Steve found that he wasn't immune to that hopeful gaze.

"You really want to play?" Steve asked. "You don't have to, you know? Just because Sam wants to see you do it."

The little boy nodded.

"Yeah. Please?"

Steve looked at Natasha.

"What do you think?"

She couldn't say no. Not with Peter looking so hopefully at her. But she wasn't willing to take the heat for something like that.

"If Tony agrees."

Peter made a happy gasp and turned to Sam.

"No. Finish eating, first," Steve said, well aware that the distraction would be too much for Peter and he'd never eat his dinner. "Then you can call. And chew your food," he added. "And you have to have at least three tacos and you can't gobble. Fair?"

Sam wanted to protest, but Peter was too used to obeying – especially since it was Captain America.

"Okay."

OOOOOOOO

"I can't believe this…"

Tony raised an eyebrow, looking at Pepper as he rolled up his sleeve.

"What can't you believe?" he asked. "That I'm making you dinner? Or that we're not having macaroni and cheese and chocolate chips?"

She smiled.

"You don't make him macaroni and cheese and chocolate chips. Do you?"

"We had it, once," Stark confirmed. "It wasn't bad."

"Ugh. That's ghastly."

Tony didn't disagree.

"He's a little boy."

"You're doing amazing with him."

"It's a learning process, believe me."

"I do." Pepper looked around the kitchen, noticing that there were all kinds of little signs that the house was inhabited by a youngster. Including the childishly drawn pictures that were attached to the metal front and side of the refrigerator and the stack of boardgames that were sitting on the table. "But you're a quick study."

"Thank you." He washed his hands and pulled a couple of salmon filets from the fridge. "You'll be pleased to note that there are no chocolate chips in tonight's menu."

"That's a relief."

They chatted about her day, for the most part, as he cooked them a simple and grown up meal that both of them knew Peter would have turned his little pug nose up at if Tony had offered it to him. Pepper, however, was impressed and didn't bother to hide it. Tony had waved her back into her barstool when she'd offered to help him set the table with fancy china that she didn't even know he'd had, and had put her red roses in an ornate vase that sparkled in the light of the two candles that he lit.

He'd even offered her his arm to escort her the twelve feet to the table, and had kissed her hand, lightly, when he'd released her to pull her chair out.

"We're doing it properly," he told her, draping a napkin in her lap. "It's a real date, right?"

"Yes."

He smiled at that, and went into the kitchen, again, returning with two dishes, both already plated with the salmon, roasted potatoes, and steamed vegetables that he'd prepared. She watched him set them down, and then he opened a bottle of wine and poured for both of them.

"No chocolate milk, either," he said with a teasing light in his dark eyes.

"I'm developing a taste for it."

"I'll serve it at breakfast."

Pepper smiled, taking a sip of her wine.

"I'll still be here in the morning?"

"If you want." He reached for her hand. "We can call it a sleepover, to keep it from being weird."

"We should discuss this," she said, taking hold of his hand. "Now. Before we allow things to go too far."

"I want them to go far, though," the billionaire said. "You're amazing, Pepper. And wonderful, and brilliant, and while I'm not ready to plunge headfirst into asking you to marry me, I'm absolutely willing to address the idea that you and I are a better match than you might think. And prepared to argue with you about it, if need be."

She didn't look too surprised by the statement. And he was privately relieved to see that she didn't look annoyed, or disgusted, either.

"Then we should discuss it," she told him, emphasizing the word that she'd already used, once. "Because I don't feel like arguing with you."

"That's good." He sat down, but he didn't release her hand. "You go, first."

That way he could counter any argument that she made.

Pepper smiled.

"I have a confession to make."

"Oh?"

A nod and her smile turned slightly amused.

"I saw a recording of a conversation between you and Peter that you probably didn't intend for me to see."

"Why am I suddenly nervous?" he asked, only half-joking. "What conversation? When?"

"You sent it to me," she replied. "Technically, JARVIS did, but you told him to. You and Peter were making meatloaf, and you wanted me to see you doing it."

"Okay…"

Pepper smiled at the slightly guarded tone in the single drawn out word.

"And Peter asked you about smart people only dating smart people – because that was what his aunt had told him. Smart people can't date idiots."

His expression grew slightly pained, and her smile widened because she knew he was remembering the conversation, now.

"His aunt wasn't the greatest role model."

"No. And I was very impressed with the way you explained just how wrong she was without crushing his memories of her. She was someone that he loved, even if she did and said a million things that obviously confused him."

"She was wrong," Tony agreed. "But he was right. I could date you. Not because he likes you, but because I like you." He hesitated, and she saw him steeling himself. "Very much."

Her expression softened, and the hand he was holding tightened, slightly, in his grip.

"Tony…" she said, her tongue moistening her suddenly dry lips. "I-"

"Incoming call from Sam Wilson," JARVIS announced – almost sounding apologetic.