Pepper is stunned. She walks into her apartment, drops her keys in the chinese porcelain bowl by the front door and manages to find her way to the sofa, collapsing onto it and grabbing one of the big pillows, hugging it to her chest.
She feels faint.
Never in her life has she *ever* yelled at Tony Stark, not in serious fury. She's snapped at him, and disagreed with him over the years, but always with the understanding that it was within her responsibilities, and not personal, per se.
But *this* . . .
Pepper fights the rising panic, squeezing the pillow tightly. "Nooo," she orders herself over the prickle of tears beginning to sting her eyes. "NOT going to cry, I'm NOT going to cry---"
But not crying means hyperventilating, and she's not thrilled with the idea of passing out, so Pepper snuffles deeply into the pillow, pretending the wetness isn't happening. Her shoulders shake for a long time, and periodically she comes up for air, eyes red.
Finally, an hour or so later, when she's down to a few hiccups and sniffles, Pepper wipes her face and lays back on her sofa taking stock of the situation.
It's doomed, she tells herself gloomily. I should have realized it before we even started. She had Tony Stark as her significant other without getting to anything significant, and now they're broken up, a mere three days later.
For a while she mopes, and thinks about whether or not to start getting a resume together, and then a chime on her BlackBerry alerts her. Pepper fumbles for it, feeling slightly panicky.
It's a message from Jarvis, and reads: Miss Potts, I have been coerced into passing along the following message. Tony says that it is *your* turn to buy him flowers or a plant.
She blinks; is this some sort of joke? Texting rapidly, thumbs moving in graceful speed, Pepper types back: All right, but tell him it's liable to be poison ivy.
Instantly she chides herself for being childish. Tony is clearly trying to apologize and here she is, smacking the hand reaching out for her. There is a pause, and then another message comes back. Tony says that is acceptable, provided you are willing to bring calomine lotion with you on Monday.
Pepper laughs, a snorty sniffly noise of relief and amusement. She smiles at the little PDA in her hand, and texts once more. Tell him message received. Thank you, Jarvis.
She takes in a deep breath of air, feeling much better. At the very least, she's not fired, and at best . . . well at best, it means maybe things are going to be all right after all.
Maybe.
Pepper closes her hot eyes and thinks of the destruction of the lawn, and suddenly she wonders what, exactly he's building that requires both plumbing AND cable.
000ooo000ooo000
Monday is overcast. Pepper struggles for the right outfit, and settles on a nice scoop-necked two piece skirt suit in off-grey, with black piping on it. She knows Tony likes this ensemble, and it fits with the weather.
The limo is waiting at the curb for her, and she slips inside with her briefcase, steeling herself for Tony's presence, but he's not there. She brings the partition down and speaks to Happy. "Where's Mr. Stark?"
"Already at work. Said I was to pick you up and deliver you to him personally, Ms. Potts," comes the calm reply.
Pepper loves that fact that nothing ever perturbs Happy; the man is as steady a rock as Gibraltar. She settles back against the seat, trying to relax a little. As the big car moves through the morning traffic towards Stark Industries, Pepper grows more nervous about facing Tony. She's spent her Sunday cleaning her apartment from top to bottom, burning as much energy off as possible, but even with that, she still feels unsettled, mostly because she's not sure at all about what reception waits for her.
He's been cool to her before; brusque and impatient. He's been forgiving and absent-minded before. He's even been sleepy, hung-over, drunk, melancholy, coy, flirtatious, manic, shy and confident, but right now Pepper isn't sure what she's going to confront when she steps into his office.
Pepper also hopes. One of the factors that makes Tony Stark so very dear to her is that he rarely holds grudges, and that while he was and often still is, a fuck-up at times, he strives to make good. His text message was a clear indication of that, and she feels ashamed at her lack of faith.
Loving Tony has always been easy; admitting it, allowing him to love her back is the hard part for the cautious soul that Pepper is.
Happy escorts her into the building and up to Tony's suite, silent but supportive. She wonders if he's under orders because Tony's afraid she won't come up on her own, and that nettles her a bit. She might not be relaxed, but she's not a coward. Exactly.
At the door to the suite, Happy gives her a quick nod and turns away, leaving her there. Pepper gulps in a deep breath, and reaches for the knob, opening the door. Her heart is pounding, but she's not going to admit it, not even to herself.
Tony looks up. He's got one hip on his desk, hands linked and resting on one thigh. Navy business suit, one of the good Turnbull and Asser ties, neatly knotted. His expression is . . . neutral.
Pepper stops, and fishes in her briefcase, pulling out a manila folder. With a slightly shaky hand she extends it to Tony, who takes it, and flips it open wordlessly.
He blinks. A slow smile crosses his mouth as he studies the single sheet within the folder, and he whistles. "Wow. And she's a redhead like you, too."
"I figured you'd prefer *this* poison ivy over the, um, real plant," Pepper mumbles. "Although if you need lotion, I'd really rather not know about it."
It's somehow just the right thing to say, and Tony laughs, the relief in his tone obvious. Pepper steps closer, both hands clinging to the handle of the briefcase in front of her as she clears her throat. "I'm sorry, Tony. You have every right to rebuild your house and lawn however you want it. Yes, a little advance notice would have been nice---"
Tony sets the folder behind him on the desk and holds out his hands to Pepper, reaching for the briefcase. She takes another step forward and lets him take it from her grasp, setting that aside as well before his palms come back to rest on her shoulders, drawing Pepper into that intimate space they've grown to share for so long now. "I have a proposition for you, Ms. Potts, and amazingly, it's not sexual or compromising in any way."
She arches an eyebrow at him, fighting a bit of a grin; Tony nods solemnly. "I *know,* hard to believe, but true. And no, before you ask, I'm not a pod person. Real Stark here."
Pepper bites her lips, mostly to tone down her smile, and Tony turns with her to face the desk. With a wave of his hand, the three-dimensional shape rises up from the computer base, the clean, neon green lines shooting up and connecting to create a gorgeous building. Pepper blinks for a moment, staring at it, unable to speak as she realizes what she's looking at.
Tony clears his throat. "One of the things that keeps *me* sane, sort of, Pepper, is being able to go do projects right away, without having to come here, or to some lab or workshop not right at home. I like to have the capacity to work with what I love right at hand, and it dawned on me that because I want you to be happy, you probably need the same sort of . . . freedom. So this is the prototype for a greenhouse that I hope you'll seriously consider using, because I could probably stand a few more green beans in my life, and *you* could probably use a place where you can lock me out and make faces at me through the glass . . ."
He trails off because Pepper has not said a word during his entire presentation. Nervously he shoots her a sidelong glance, trying to gauge her reaction.
"F-for me?" she squeaks, hands rising to her mouth. "Oh God, Tony! I-I-I can't."
He sees her conflict; the delight in her eyes warring with professionalism and pragmatism, and although what he really wants to do is slip his arms around her and kiss her senseless, Tony gives a dramatic little sigh.
"You can't? Great. You mean I have to take on hydroponics and evaluation of solar energy and crop rotation and vegetable gardening and nutrient formulas all by *myself?* Come on, Potts, think hard—I'm really good at swords, and not so familiar with ploughshares. Do you really, *really* want me to build this gorgeous state-of-the-art greenhouse just to mess this up?"
It's such a sweetly evil point of manipulation, and she laughs aloud, turning to him, throwing her arms around his neck, bouncing up and down a little. Tony hugs her in return, massively relieved.
His Sunday had been utter crap, and all Tony's hopes had been pinned on the success of this little presentation. He hugs her harder, and his hands begin to move southward, cupping and squeezing happily.
Pepper snorts into his collar. "Excuse me, but is this ass grab Jarvis approved?"
"Actually," Tony lies, "It is. Totally. I'm sure it's on the pink schedule."
"Ah," Pepper sighs with pleasure, "then maybe this is too—" she kisses him, taking his mouth with a sweet ferocity that stuns Tony, and he gives in immediately, because forceful Pepper is just the sort of thing that turns him inside out.
They lean back against the desk, kissing frantically, tumbling into the greenhouse projection, and the computer beeps, but they ignore it, kissing again and again.
Finally Pepper smiles down at him since he's practically pinned under her and runs a thumb along his lower lip to wipe away her gloss from his mouth. "Mr. Stark, your proposition sounds as if it has a lot of . . . merit. I'd like a few days to look over the specs and figures."
"Yeahhhh, sure," Tony pants a little, smiling up at her. "Mind you, this is a mutual enterprise. I'll build it, but it's up to you to stock the thing and make it return the investment, financially and emotionally."
Pepper nods, and rises, pulling him up again by his lapels. Her smile is luminous, and she feels giddy inside. Carefully she straightens his tie again, and brushes his shoulders. Tony lets her, preening under her grooming, his own smile intimate.
"We have to get to work," she murmurs, and he nods, a little regretfully.
"Meeting with the Mortensens today. That ought to be good," Tony smiles again. "And doing lunch with the colonel and his Poohbahs out at Edwards, so I might be late."
"Noted," Pepper tells him, and although her voice is professional now, there's a softness in her gaze that warms him from the inside out.
000ooo000ooo000
Jarvis has scheduled a movie date night for Wednesday. Given that both Tony and Pepper have opted to keep their newly created relationship private for the time being, this means either renting out an entire theater, or simply watching a film together at the mansion.
The latter option makes more sense, although Tony is fond of grand gestures, and files away the theater idea for another time when they become a public couple. The very thought of *that* is intriguing to him, and he wonders what it will be like to be like his parents were: adored and adoring, in a word, happy.
In any case, he makes it a point to text Pepper and let her pick the movie—a generous offer on his part, he feels. He gears for a chick flick, or some costume drama, since Tony deduces that's probably what Pepper likes. She seems just the sort to sit down with a box of Kleenex and some weepy film like The English Patient, or The Notebook.
Therefore when she requests Dirty Harry, he's taken aback juuuust a bit.
He texts back. Are you sure? The 'Make my day?' film? Lots of shootings, serial killer in it?
Either that or Escape from Alcatraz. comes the reply. He stares again at the screen and gives a little shake of his head.
You're kidding, right?
Eastwood, is all she types, and Tony can practically hear her dreamy sigh.
This annoys him slightly, since her selections are putting a crimp on his plans for seduction. To have Pepper moony-eyed over the former mayor of Carmel does not bode well for making out, and even if she IS in the mood, he's not about to let Clint be the man on her mind.
However, Tony ruefully acknowledges, watching a prison escape is far better than sitting through Steel Magnolias, so he agrees.
They get through Tuesday with a few moments of private sweetness; for lunch, Pepper sends him a chicken salad special from his favorite sandwich shop; SubStantial, along with a note that he pockets with a smile on his face.
Later, after Tony leaves for the afternoon for a conference at Cal Tech, Pepper goes down to collect the empty wrappers and finds a smudgy mustard heart drawn on the window of the glass door with lip prints in the center of it. She smirks as she wipes it clean again with 409.
A few stolen kisses in the elevators; a few carefully coded Emails, and by the time Wednesday arrives, both Pepper and Tony are full of anticipation. Tony in particular is full of nervous energy, all too aware of an undercurrent of sexuality in his thoughts that both amuses and annoys him.
The best part of his epiphany in Afghanistan was finding a purpose for his talents; a new direction for the moral compass of his nature. The worst part has been the loss of hedonism, and Tony is human enough to mourn slightly the end of his revolving door sexuality.
He loves Pepper; there's no hesitation in that fact, but for a man used to sex on a nearly constant basis, the shift from sinner to saint has been . . . uncomfortable. Tony has resorted to activies he hasn't done, nor needed to since high school, and despite a daily wank, it's all he can do not to pounce on Pepper the minute she steps into the living room.
And she's *worth* pouncing on, yes indeed. Pepper has on a button-down the front sleeveless sweaterdress in soft green with a roses pattern on it. It's feminine and a tad dressy; Tony's glad he took the time to shower and change into a black polo and chinos.
After all, it's technically their first date.
Pepper beams at him. "You cleaned up."
Tony preens a little. "I have less than pure motives, now fueled on by that outfit, Potts. You look . . . nice."
Point in fact she looks better than nice. Pepper looks delectable, and the little blush on her face only adds to the charm. She glances away, clearing her throat. "Um, thank you. So . . . movie?"
Tony gestures to the sofa; when Pepper sits down, he drops himself next to her and looks up at the ceiling. "Jarvis?"
A twenty-foot movie screen unrolls from a compartment in the ceiling, and further back over their heads, a camera lens telescopes out from another hidden panel. Pepper makes a happy little hum. "One thing about this house . . . you really do have the *best* toys."
"Most guys stop at home entertainment. I like to go big," Tony admits cheerily. "Yo, popcorn?"
Butterfingers rolls a minature popcorn wagon, and the scent of it fills the room. Pepper bites her lips at the sheer extravagence of it all, but Tony can tell she's touched by the ambience. He shoots a sidelong glance at her. "Clint would never go all out like this for you," he whispers loudly.
Pepper smirks. "You're not jealous, are you?"
"Of a geriatric spaghetti western star with stodgy politics? Please!" Tony mutters as he scoops a bagful of hot, fluffy popcorn and hands it to her. Pepper takes it and fishes a piece out, eating it delicately.
Jarvis speaks up. "Your movie will run approximately one hundred and twelve minutes this evening. Given that many couples spend time afterwards discussing the cinematic entertainment, I am alloting you both another sixty-eight minutes after the credits for this."
"Looks like your curfew is eleven," Tony sourly tells Pepper. "Robo-dad is being a pain in the ass."
"He probably wants you to keep your batteries to yourself," she agrees. "Given your propensity to push buttons."
"I'd hoped to push *your* buttons," he admits in a softer, more urgent whisper. "You're not the only one around here with a pink schedule, you know."
"Sounds more as if you've got a blue itinerary," she murmurs back, amused. Both of them are leaning much closer than necessary now, little puffs of breath against each other's faces. Pepper definitely feels tingly when Tony's arm slides around her shoulders.
"Funny you should say that, because 'blue' is definitely the color that's been—"
A sudden blare of music from the THX stereo surround sound system startles the hell out of them both; Tony rattles a pinkie in one ear canal and glares up towards the ceiling. "Jarvis? We might need closed captioning too now, thanks---"
"You are *only* permitted above the waist personal interactions this evening," the AI reminds them. "To that end I suggest you pace yourselves."
The lights go down, and on the screen, the leader for the film is coming into focus.
Pepper blushes, a warm pink color on her cheekbones. "Well, he's certainly taking his responsibilities . . . um, seriously."
Tony, however, shoots her a sidelong glance full of his own nearly-impossible-to-resist seriousness that he manages once in a while. "I just want you to know I *am* willing to do this right, if that's what you want, Pepper."
She ducks her head, aware of his unspoken reason for it in his dark eyes. Very gently, Pepper leans closer to him, and brushes her mouth against his cheek, moving closer to his ear. She whispers. "I want to be good for you too."
This startles Tony, but Pepper settles in against his side with a comfortable sigh, and the fit of her is so perfect that he gives a tight nod and turns his reluctant attention to the screen.