"An *official* relationship," Tony muses. "As opposed to those that don't have the secret handshake and decoder ring."
Pepper smacks his upper arm; lightly but with enough force to show she's annoyed. He gives a tiny flinch. "Hey, I'm already wounded, you know."
"Tony—" and her tone makes it clear that the time for making jokes is over. The worry in her eyes tells him that she's having difficulty with the concept, and he wants to hear whatever it is Pepper's got to say because he wants to get back to the kissing as soon as possible.
"Sorry, didn't mean to play for sympathy there. Official relationship. Yes, I think that's a good idea. I'll order a tree for the front yard so I can carve our names in it."
Pepper sighs, and Tony does too, and follows her out of the kitchen, into the living room. It's a lovely night outside beyond the window, with a gibbous moon glowing over the water of the Pacific. Pepper sits down on the sofa, tucking her feet up under her. Tony sits next to her, trying to be patient.
She looks at him for a moment. "Let me just say this because I've thought a lot about it during the plane ride and I want to make sure you hear it. I've worked for you a long time, and those years showed me a lot about you, Tony. The bad side and the good side. I wasn't hired to judge you, and I've tried not to, but it hasn't been easy. Then you got kidnapped and it was like something broke inside me. For nearly a hundred days, Tony, I went through the motions here and the thing that ate me up wasn't anger or fear or sadness. You know what it was?"
He answers because he knows.
"Regret," Tony replies in a low whisper. That had been one of the harder revelations for him too, back in Afghanistan.
Pepper slowly nods. "Yes. I regretted that I never . . . I never did anything. I never kissed you, or told you how good a man you are. And when you came back, I promised myself that I would, but I was . . . scared."
He's staring at her intently now, eyes dark and liquid in the low light. Pepper swallows hard, blinking a little. "I'm not *brave* Tony. I'm a good little girl who's always walked the straight and narrow. I follow orders and do my job, but I'm not the kind of person who takes chances, like you. *I* don't have the courage to just jump into things and trust that they'll come out okay."
"What about now?" Tony asks, in a very soft, hesitant voice. She reaches out and takes his hand, slipping her fingers between his, the grip cool and secure.
"Now, I've changed. Just a little bit. Just like you. You grew. I grew. And if I have to keep sending you off to go battle evil, I want to do it knowing that at least you *know* what I feel, Tony."
It's a brave little speech, delivered in a whispery voice that cracks, and Tony closes his eyes because it's almost too much. Blindly he reaches for Pepper, pulling her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her slenderness and burying his face along the side of her neck.
They sit together a long time, holding each other, saying a thousand different things in the wordless language of touch. It's not sexual per se; just a sweet overload of caressing and sighs. Pepper is close to crying; he can sense that, just as he understands it's out of relief and pleasure rather than sorrow or pain.
This is good, he thinks. This is nothing he's ever done before, but it's so intimate and soothing that he feels the knots and aches ebbing away as he holds Pepper. Tony had no idea that simply *holding* a woman—THIS woman—could feel like liquor to the soul; a languid warmth he savors.
He speaks, voice low, his nose against the side of her hair. "I like how you feel. In all senses of the word, Pepper. And I'm pretty sure you've picked up that I definitely have feelings *for* you. I *have* tried to bring it up a few times."
"A few times," Pepper agrees, her words slightly muffled since her face is against the side of his neck. Tony can feel her smile against his skin, and it's a nice sensation.
"So . . . the talking is over now?" he asks hopefully. "We can get on to the gettin' it on?"
Pepper pulls back a moment, and she's giggling although her eyes are slightly wet as she shakes her head. "Tony. Do you know *how* to have a relationship?"
This is not familiar territory, and he treads cautiously. "No?"
"That's right. No, you don't. For most people in the world, it runs longer than one night. I want *this* one to run longer than one night."
"No argument there," Tony agrees gruffly. "So?"
"So I had Jarvis draw up . . . a timeline. For us." She shifts out of his lap to sit next to him on the sofa.
Tony says nothing.
Pepper takes a deep breath. "I just figured that since we're both in the same boat—you've never really done the courtship thing, and it's been well, a while for me too, that it would make sense to have some sort of a sensible, logical guideline so we don't rush into things and . . . . Tony?"
He arches an eyebrow at her, still slightly stunned by this proposal. "Let me get this straight, Ms. Potts. You had *Jarvis* chart out the timeline for our *relationship?*
Pepper blushes. Bright red and unmistakable.
Tony gives a deep sigh, and scrubs his face with one hand before muttering, "Oh *this* I have to see. Please, break out the schedule; I'm *dying* to get a look at the schematics of love as defined by my technoDomo."
"As you wish, sir," comes Jarvis's smooth voice. A projected screen lights up on the wall opposite the sofa, and words begin to scroll across in formal lettering.
Projected Timeline for the courtship of Virginia Potts and Anthony Stark: Three months.
"Whoa, Three *months* before getting around to The Farmer in the Dell?" Tony demands. "Time out! Jarvis—exactly how long have I *known* Potts?"
"Four years, eight months, precisely."
"All right, I demand some sort of credit for that time, to be applied to this scenario."
"Miss Potts?" Jarvis asks softly. She's biting her lips in an effort not to snort; she gives a little nod. "I think he makes a fair point, but base it on factors other than professional interaction."
"Recalibrating. One moment, please," Jarvis responds, and for a second no one speaks. Tony looks at Pepper and shakes his head sorrowfully. "You didn't think you were going to get full cooperation on this did you?"
"No, but I left enough room for you to carve it down," Pepper replies, reaching over and tracing her fingers along his stomach.
Before Tony can respond, the scrolled letters change on the wall. Amended Timeline for the courtship of Virginia Potts and Anthony Stark: Six Weeks.
"Half. Not great, but better," Tony grumbles. "At least that's *something.*"
The screen shifts. Week One: suggested scheduled displays of affection and quality time.
"Seriously?" comes his disbelieving little hoot.
"Quite, Mr. Stark," comes Jarvis's chiding tone. "Courtship is a complicated affair, and filled with certain protocols you have bypassed far too often. You are human being, and not a Cocker Spaniel; there is far more to love than sniffing rumps and mounting them, sir."
Pepper is smothering her giggles against her cast, her thin shoulders shaking at this. Tony is as bright a red as she's ever seen before, and looks as if he wants to flee the room. Instead he crosses his arms and gives a defiant glance towards the ceiling. "I programed you, and by God I can *de*-program you."
"Of course you can sir, but you will not."
"Because . . ?" Tony rolls out with gritted teeth.
"I have arranged to download various household surveillance segments onto YouTube at the first attempt to dismantle my programing."
Tony freezes; Pepper is wheezing by now, her lashes wet, her stomach aching as she laughs. Tony holds out for a moment, then drops his face in his hands and for a long while the two of them snort and snicker and cannot make eye contact without laughing again.
Finally Pepper wipes her eyes and speaks up, albeit in a strangled sort of voice. "Oookay then. I guess we do it *Jarvis's* way."
"Not that we have a choice," Tony whines. "Who would have thought that the Forbin Project would come to pass so soon?"
"I have no desire to dominate the world," Jarvis protests. "I merely wish to insure a sucessful merger of two strong-willed and recalcitrant participants."
"Strong-willed?" Tony demands, arching an eyebrow.
"Recalcitrant?" Pepper questions at the same time.
They glare at each other, accusingly, like two delinquents sitting outside the principal's office.
Jarvis clears his throat. "My purpose is to negotiate, not mediate. Left on to your own devices, the statistical probability that two of you will mis-manage this affair and each of you will end up deeply hurt stands at over ninety-two percent, with a half a percent margin for error on either side."
The living room is silent as both Pepper and Tony take in this estimation, both of them a little stunned. Jarvis speaks up again, more encouragingly this time. "However, given the depth of intention on both sides, and the heartening start as I have documented this evening, those probabilities will change."
"So you're saying if we tried to do this on our own, we'd fuck up?" Tony demands bluntly, no humor at all in his voice now.
There is a tactful moment of silence again; then Jarvis speaks once more, quietly. "The language is crude, but the assessment stands, sir. Given how important this particular . . . endeavor is to you, and to Miss Potts, I am---"
"—Excuse me, but *documented?*" Pepper squeaks, slightly outraged. "You . . . videotaped us?"
"No, Miss Potts, I have merely transcribed your conversations for data analysis and posterity, as per my programming. The file is confidential, and accessible only to Mr. Stark and yourself."
"It had *better* be," comes her firm little threat, and Tony shoots Pepper a worried and slightly admiring look.
"Way to take charge—but may I remind you that in fact *you* brought him into this, Potts, effectively making him nanny, watchdog and third wheel in this situation?"
"It seemed," Pepper growls back, "like a good idea at the time."
"And I assure you it still is," Jarvis responds. "I have your best interests at the core of my programming."
Tony sighs. "He has a point; when I put him together, that was one of the fundamentals." Leaning back, he glances up at the wall and thrusts his chin out. "Okay Jarvis, let's see what you've got. If you think you can steer this relationship over the rocks of adversity, AKA my faults and various failings too numerous to list here please, go ahead. What's the schedule for week one?"
"Thank you," Jarvis murmurs, and the projection along the wall changes to a standard week calendar, with small boxes, each labeled.
Pepper studies it for a long moment, and gradually her expression begins to shift back towards amusement as she reads it aloud. "Monday, eight fifteen, goodmorning kiss; ten twenty-eight to ten thirty-eight, ten-minute coffee break with affectionate interactions; four seventeen, delivery of flowers for Miss Potts—flowers?"
"Certainly. I have taken the liberty of ordering your favorites in a small but tasteful arrangement for your desk," Jarvis responds, a trifle smugly.
Tony rolls his eyes. "Isn't it amazing how thoughtful I am, when prodded by a computerized romance coach? Can I get a definition of just what affectionate interactions are, please? I'm hoping that includes a sweet couple of ass grabs—"
"Tactile stimulation on that scale does not come into the schedule until late in the weekend," Jarvis chides. "Further, I suggest you keep your blossoming relationship discreet until such time as I deem it wise to reveal."
"Is there . . . any room for impulsiveness?" This comes from Pepper, who is studying the rest of the week's schedule. "Not that I am . . . usually," she admits weakly. This has Tony rolling his eyes again, even as he sneakily slips an arm around her shoulders.
"Within your voluntary program, there *is* a workable degree of . . . spontaneity," Jarvis grudgingly admits. "Although Mr. Stark's well-established habit of pushing boundaries, as demonstrated by his current arm position, will require some . . . monitoring."
"You're a total sucker for my bad boy ways," Tony assures Pepper, who glares at him. "Admit it."
"Oh of course," Pepper nods with dry sarcasm, "it's been the magnet drawing me to you for all these years, how could I forget?"
"Good point," Tony concedes. "While *I* am forever fascinated by your demure resistance to my overtures."
This makes Pepper's mouth twist a bit, and she carefully unpeels Tony's arm from her shoulders, making a production out of setting it back on his own thigh. "Since we have a full schedule for tomorrow, I'm going home."
"Hey!" comes the immediate protest she knew would happen. "The night is young, and we don't have to start the program for another ten hours!"
"You," Pepper points out gently, "need rest, and we both need time to think, Mr. Stark." Turning to him, she lays a hand against his chest, partially on the arc and partially over his left pectoral. "This could be a huge mistake, Tony."
There's something in his eyes that gleams for a moment; a sweet glance of shyness from deep within him, and he slowly shakes his head. "No. No more regrets, Miss Potts."
Tony walks her to the car, oddly formal; making it clear that for the first time, he's taking this all seriously. He opens the door for her with easy good manners, and Pepper hesitates.
It's all he needs, and Tony cups her cheek, kissing her with just enough restrained passion to leave her dizzy and smiling. She drops into the seat with a bounce, and he laughs, closing the door after her. Carefully he squats down to look into the unrolled window. "I have to ask—what made you *do* this, Pepper?"
She pauses, looking at the steering wheel for a long moment, her jaw working a bit, then turns her head to catch his gaze. "A hundred little things. Cheeseburgers and flashdrives and band-aids and chocolate cake, Tony. Jokes nobody else would get. Acts of magnificent generosity and cardboard boxes on porches," she whispers. "Goodnight."
His heart is thudding hard as he watches the red tail lights fade off into the night.
000ooo000ooo000
Pepper sleeps surprisingly well, considering all the things churning through her mind. She gets up and dresses carefully, feeling it's important somehow, to make the day a little special.
When she checks her BlackBerry, Pepper notes with amusement that Jarvis's schedule has been discreetly merged with her official one, with only the font color—pink no less—to indicate it. She is looking forward to that good morning kiss, and when she enters the mansion, her stride into the living room is skittery.
Tony is not there. Neither is he in his bedroom or kitchen. She descends the stairs to the workshop in the garage, her stomach slightly nervous now, and spots his back as he works with some sort of projected design for what looks like . . . a building. The minute he sees her through the glass wall he snaps some command to Jarvis and the hologram disappears.
He looks guilty, and she wonders about that briefly, but as she passes through the door, Tony studies her from head to toe and whistles in admiration. "What's the occasion? Oh yes—the day you finally submitted to my devilish charms."
"Do you have any other kind?" Pepper muses with mock innocence. Tony opts to take this as a compliment, and arches an eyebrow at her.
"Keep being mean, and we'll just cross that good morning kiss off the list. I can play hard to get, Miss Potts."
"Since when?" she replies, and softens the remark with a gentle smile. "Besides, we have an eight-twenty helicopter flight to Palm Springs so you can bid on that Duesenberg you want so much."
"No time to waste then," Tony murmurs, and reaches for her, pulling her into his arms. For a moment they both look at each other with shy hesitation; searching each other's faces. Pepper tries to shift her glance downward, but Tony catches her chin and leans into her, mouth meeting hers gently. She can't help it; a happy little whimper is muffled between them, and Tony's answering growl blends with it for long, sweet moments.
A sudden blast of arctically cold air jets out from the air conditioner vent overhead; startled, Tony and Pepper break apart, glancing upward.
"Ahem," Jarvis replies. "Your car and flight are waiting."
"We're bus-y," Tony tries to argue and kiss at the same time. Another frigid blast hits them, and Pepper laughs despite herself.
The idea of Jarvis defending her honor *is* amusing, if slightly frustrating. Tony, however, is decidedly put out. He winks at her outragously and whispers, "We'll smooch in the car."
"Don't you think we ought to follow the rules for at least the first day?" Pepper counters, bracing herself for another blast. Tony works his jaw back and forth for a moment, clearly torn. Finally he nods, tightly.
"Fine. Sure. Although it goes against every bone in my body," he admits. "Against *some* more than others."
Pepper blushes a little and turns so he doesn't see her smirk. "Your sacrifice is duly noted, Mr. Stark. Let's go buy an antique car, shall we?"
He follows her up the stairs, eyes noting her luscious behind, murmuring, "Thank God *looking* is still a freebie."
000ooo000ooo000
The Palm Springs mansion is much more ostentatious than Tony's home, and the owner of the 1935 SJ is clearly nervous to have the head of Stark Industries visiting. He's loud and flashing big white teeth as he escorts Pepper and Tony down to where the big car is displayed neatly in a glass-fronted garage.
Tony is making small talk; mostly about bodywork and other such car-related topics. Pepper watches him schmooze a bit with the other man. She likes doing it. Tony so often is worth watching. He's graceful and his body language tells her in a thousand little ways exactly what he's thinking, whatever his words might say. At the moment, he really, REALLY wants this car, but he's not about to admit that to Mr. White Teeth.
Pepper watches him walk around the car, examining it, making a quick joke here and there. Then he turns his head to catch her eye, and that bright, straight gaze sends a pang through her, because she knows his exact thought.
You and me, Potts, opening this baby up on the highway just to see what she can do!
She looks down, feeling a bit of heat on her face, and waits for the bargaining to really begin. As the two men begin to banter back and forth, Pepper wanders over to the side of the garage, and looks out, towards the front lawn of the mansion, taking in the xeriscaped beds of cacti and succulents. She feels a surge of interest in them, and wonders if Tony would mind, terribly, if she took a closer look. Since the two men are now peering under the gleaming hood of the Duesenberg, Pepper feels safe in wandering a bit.
Stepping out, she studies the layout of the succulents, noting the uniformity of the design. Nothing unique here; a standard bed along the edges of the driveway with landscaping stones filling in-between the plants. It's nothing particularly special, and Pepper wonders if the gardeners who tend to it are aware that some of the plants are dying. She gracefully squats down and checks; the echevera are bedded too shallowly, and the exposed roots are baking in the sun.
Pepper glances over her shoulder; Tony and Mr. White Teeth are still under the hood, so she reaches in her jacket pocket for a pen and digs a little trough in the sandy soil. At three inches, she stops, and gently transplants the most exposed one, carefully covering the roots and patting the soil down. She wishes she had a little water, to make the soil compact a bit, but sighs and rises instead, shaking her pen clear of dirt.
Tony is standing there, watching her. He says nothing, his glance shifting to the plants at their feet, and Pepper feels compelled to explain. "It was . . . suffering."
"Suffering."
"Well it's just that the roots were exposed and in this sunlight, that could be fatal. I simply . . . replanted it, that's all," Pepper murmurs, "It's not a big deal. Are you getting the car?"
Tony is still staring at the echevera, but her question breaks him out of whatever reverie he's in and he nods. "Yep. If I throw in a few thousand over the asking price we can drive this baby back to Malibu. What made you notice the roots?"
Trust Tony to focus on the picayune.
Pepper sighs. "I was just interested in the landscaping. It's very water-conservative, which is a plus, but I think the seller's gardening service is substandard, or is ripping him off."
"Misplant, have them die, sell new plants?" Tony asks, looking at the rest of the succulents with new interest.
Pepper nods. "He probably doesn't know or doesn't care, but considering all the work that goes into doing a nice layout like this, it seems a waste." She draws a breath, and glances at him, daring to ask the question that's been bothering her for days. "Tony—why don't you have any plants? At the house?"
He looks up, startled. "I don't?"
Pepper wants to laugh at his expression. "Um, no. Nothing *inside* the house, anyway."
"Wow. I did not realize," Tony murmurs, thinking hard, "that that WAS the case. We'll have to fix that, huh?"
"We don't *have* to," Pepper backpedals, slightly startled. "If you don't want them, it's okay—"
"—no, no, plants are good. We need some. Big ones maybe, with leaves. And stems," Tony interrupts, his expression intense.
Pepper flushes, aware that it sounds as if she's hinting for them, and she shakes her head. "No! I was just curious—"
"And I am too, now. Maybe my decorators were allergic," Tony supplies. "In any case, we're getting some. Ah—" This last was to the approaching Mr. White Teeth.
A few minutes more and the deal is done; Pepper notarizes the agreement, and follows Tony to the Duesenberg, where he settles behind the wheel with a slightly contented expression. The car moves down the driveway, and Pepper looks around belatedly for seatbelts that aren't there. "Tony—"
"I know, I know, we're noncompliant, but the damned things weren't required in nineteen thirty five, and at the moment we have a bill of sale, so I think we have a thirty day window."
"Getting pulled over is actually the *least* of my worries," Pepper tells him dryly. "I'm more concerned about your habit of ahhhhhhhhh----!"
Cheerfully Tony floors the accelerator, sending the big machine forward in a smooth rush of speed. The wind makes a tangle of Pepper's hair and she curses, albeit under her breath. Tony is laughing delightedly, his concentration on the road in front of them.
Contrary to popular belief, Tony Stark does *not* drive like a maniac. He *does* however, drive like a stunt professional, and that includes hairpin turns, bootlegger reverses and acceleration above and beyond all posted speed limits. Pepper has both hands braced on the beautiful polished walnut glove compartment, eyes tightly closed, a sense of fatalism throughout her demeanor.
This is a part of Tony's makeup that she's not thrilled about, but has learned to live with. There are a lot of those, in fact, and the years have given her some sense of resignation to them. She's aware of his utter joy in driving, and has always been impressed that he is in fact, an excellent driver. Even the crash that brought him to Doctor Granger's emergency room all those years ago was the other driver's fault.
They've reached the access for the Five, and Tony sends the big car soaring up the ramp, throttling it back to let the engine roar. They fly up and merge onto the highway; Tony slows down enough to let the other drivers note and admire the big car while Pepper catches her breath.
Never boring. Sometimes dangeous as hell, but never boring: that's life with Tony Stark in a nutshell, she thinks.
Pepper smiles, and tries to smooth her hair back down.
000ooo000ooo0000
By the time they make it back to the compound, it's nearly lunchtime, and Pepper has to juggle a few agenda items so that nobody's feathers are too ruffled. She has a quick meeting with Legal about updates to SI's hiring policies, and Tony has a celebrity golf tournament and a shareholder's dinner to attend, so they only have an hour.
She orders lunch from El Rosale, and brings Tony's chile rellanos down to the garage. Once again Pepper catches the hologram of something out of the corner of her eye before Tony shuts it off and comes to open the glass door for her full hands.
"Nice! Extra rice too—thanks," he murmurs, taking his plate from her happily. She nudges his shoulder to hand him a few napkins as well.
"So what are you working on?" she asks, casually.
Tony avoids her gaze, and concentrates on one of the chilies. "Nothing much," he lies. Pepper can *tell* he's lying because he's fighting against fidgeting. "Hey, I want to get rid of the basketball court—think I could get it dug up and leveled by the weekend?"
"The basketball court? Tony, that's a major project, and besides you love that thing. Wasn't it one of the reasons you chose this place?" Pepper demands, looking up from her forkful of chicken mole. Tony deliberately stuffs an entire chili into his mouth to avoid answering.
Now she's suspicious. Pepper sets her plate down and crosses her arms, waiting.
Tony chews, slowly.
The standoff continues.
Finally Pepper sighs. "Fine. If you're serious, I can call around for a contractor to tear it out." She frets; the basketball court is a regulation sized one, off-set from the main house, in a little natural depression on the other side of the garage. Pepper remembers being goaded into games of Horse more than once with Tony and Rhodey out there, using her natural height and grace to off-set their supposedly superior sports skills.
Good memories.
"Great," Tony interrupts her reverie. "Hey, what's next on the calendar 'o love? Because after missing our coffeebreak, I think we're entitled to double up on the next session—" he sidles over to her, waggling his eyebrows enticingly. Pepper hands him her BlackBerry and goes back to her chicken. He checks it.
"You get flowers, and I get . . . nothing, apparently. Sexist, I say. Jarvis?"
"Sir?"
"There seems to be an imbalance in the proportion of affection ratio in your calendar. I'm registering a protest."
"*You* are the pursuer, sir, and traditionally, your efforts are supposed to be greater in the beginning of the courtship."
"That sounds susiciously like * work,*" Tony gripes, only to get a dry glare from Pepper.
She takes the BlackBerry from him. "Sorry to put you through all that *effort,* Tony. Have a good golf game." Pepper scoots out the glass door and up the stairs before he can reply.
Tony waits until the heels of her sexy shoes are out of sight, then speaks up in a low, urgent voice. "Great, I pissed her off just enough so that she won't ask about the basketball court again, right?"
There is a telling pause, and Tony fidgets a little. "Er, right?" he repeats weakly, suddenly aware of the larger situation he's just created.
"I will order a much bigger bouquet of flowers," Jarvis diplomatically offers.
Tony sets the rest of his lunch aside, suddenly not hungry, and thinks that maybe romance is harder than he thought.
000ooo000ooo000
Pepper tries not to fume. She shows up for the meeting at SI early, and spends the extra time clearing out various emails. Tony's remark shouldn't bother her . . . but it does. The man has always had everything come easily to him, and Pepper is annoyed to think that he assumes she will too. In truth it *was* hard, making the choice of a relationship with him, and now having him treat it cavalierly doesn't help.
She listens with half of her attention to the proposed amendments to Stark Industries policies, aware of some ironic overtones in the loosening of fraternization issues, and escapes afterwards, knowing she's going to be a little late for her new cast. In the parking garage, Pepper reaches her car and slows, looking at the man leaning against the door, waiting for her.
"Hi. I'm an idiot," Tony tells her, and she bursts into unexpected giggles because he's actually wearing one of those stick-on name tags.
It's got 'idiot' printed in the box.
"That looks really silly, and you need to take it off before your golf game," she murmurs gently, reaching for the tag. Tony catches her hand and brings it to his lips, kissing her knuckles. His mouth is hot, and Pepper feels her knees weaken a little at the brush of his mustache.
Yes he's an idiot, but he's good about making up for it once in a while.
"I got you something," he nods at her car. Pepper glances in, expecting flowers—after all, that's what's on the agenda.
On the passenger seat is a huge Jade plant, potted in an octagon stone urn bigger than a baskeball. Pepper goggles for a moment, stunned at the beauty of the gift. She opens the car door and bends down to examine it.
When she straightens up, she catches Tony looking at her, eyes actually on her face instead of her bottom. "I don't know what to say, except 'thank you," Pepper murmurs, moved.
A plant. Not flowers, but something that shows he actually *listened* to her. She's ridiculously happy.
"So. This is plant number one," Tony mumbles. "I hope it's okay, and you're not allergic or any—"
He doesn't get to finish; Pepper lunges for him and kisses him soundly, hands cupping the back of his head. This is the cue for him to kiss back, and by God, Tony does, not about to lose the glorious opportunity. His actions have always spoken more eloquently than words, and this frantic tangle is a thing of sweet, awkward joy.
When they both reluctantly pull apart to draw a breath, Pepper shivers a little because it's so very, very good. She whispers softly. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," Tony mumbles back, eyes closed, "and we are *definitely* getting more plants. Yeah. Absolutely."
Pepper laughs softly, and pulls away from him, her eyes bright. "Whatever you say, Mr. Stark. Now go play eighteen holes and help rake in those new investors. I've got a doctor's appointment."
Tony draws a deep breath and nods, checking his watch. "Okay then. Oh, and there's a speeding ticket in my Email for this afternoon. We blew by some radar checkpoint; go figure."
Pepper nods, grinning wryly.