She can't maintain a straight face. Pepper smoothes down the uniform skirt and looks up again at Tony, who has a grin as well. "I feel like we should have codenames too," he murmurs, adjusting the wire-frame glasses he's wearing. "Doctor Handsome and his ravishing nurse, Snuggles."
"If you ever call me Snuggles in public, you will lose a testicle," Pepper informs him.
Rebuked but not repentant, Tony purses his mouth. "So by your own words there, that frees me to call you Snuggles in private. Gotcha, and *no* take-backs, Potts."
Pepper gives an exasperated sigh and turns her glance upwards. "Jarvis, are you *sure* about this?"
"Research indicates that uniforms are among the best camouflage, and that the majority of people focus on the clothing rather than the faces associated with them, Ms Potts. Rest assured that by wearing this costume, you will be unremarkable this evening."
"Beg to differ," Tony murmurs. "Ms. Potts is never unremarkable."
"I meant merely in generally accepted secondary definition of the word. To quote: not noteworthy: not unusual, exceptional, or worthy of note. This is the purpose of the disguise," Jarvis expounds, but Pepper softly laughs.
"I understand and appreciate the nuance, Jarvis, truly. Tony?"
He looks different. The silver wire-rimmed glasses make him look more academic, and the clip-on ponytail matching his dark hair gives him a slightly rakish touch. A simple button-down shirt and slacks along with a leather jacket complete his ensemble, and Pepper likes the effect.
He waggles his chin a little. "I'm good to go, Nurse Snuggles. Shall we?"
"Tony—" This is a warning. Pepper glances at herself once more, noting the pastel scrub top over the white skirt, the pink button front sweater and sensible white shoes; anyone glancing at her would see a nurse just coming off-shift.
"Telling you, whatever the outerwear, you'll always be completely remarkable to me," Tony tells her as he herds her down to the garage.
Pepper ducks her face, blushing.
000ooo000ooo000
El Rosale is a family-owned Mexican restaurant off the Five, just north of Long Beach. It's doing brisk business, but by the time Tony and Pepper have parked and walked the block to reach it, there is a lucky lull in the flow, and they are whisked to a table near the front window.
Inside the scents of toasting corn meal and roasting chilies is enough to make Pepper's stomach rumble, and she glances over the menu eagerly, remembering many of the entrees from the numerous times Happy has made quick dinner pick-up runs here. "Oh it *all* looks good!" she sighs.
"I'm going for the carne asada," Tony tells her, "With nachos and a beer. How about you?"
"Quesadillas with guacamole on the side," Pepper decides. "Along with salsa and chips."
A young man takes their orders and brings them both beers a moment later, and a slightly awkward silence rises between them. Pepper looks over at Tony, suddenly aware that she's at a loss for something to say.
Tony clears his throat. "So honey, how was the clinic today?"
Pepper blinks a little, then looks down at herself and up again at Tony. She smiles. "Oh not too bad. We've had a run of croup with some of the babies, and Doctor Hensley is getting calls for sports physicals of course."
"Soccer, football, baseball," Tony nods encouragingly. "Gearing up for this year, sure."
"Mrs. Paulson's little boy, Charlie, threw up on Dottie," Pepper picks up her beer. "Not that I blame him. I've *warned* her about putting the tongue depressor too far back in his little mouth. How was *your* day, sweetheart?"
Tony smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling up. He reaches across the plastic tablecloth and takes Pepper's free hand, his grip warm as he holds it and leans closer. "The office manager is pissed because Duran and his team haven't run the quarterly reports yet, and Caroline from Accounting finally had her baby. A girl, Cindy: seven pounds, three ounces. Looks like a shaved pug."
Pepper splutters, a little beer making her choke. "That's a *mean* thing to say!"
"I'll Email you the picture and you can decide for yourself if I'm exaggerating," Tony promises.
The pause between them is warm now, and Pepper gives a sigh. "We're crazy, aren't we?"
Tony cocks his head, and even with the wire-rim glasses and ponytail he looks a little sad. "Nope; just nervous. At least, *I'm* nervous. You know me, Potts—I don't date. I'm not sure of what to do, and I really don't want to blow it. So maybe being Honey and Sweetheart is a little easier than being Pepper and Tony right now, you know?"
She squeezes his fingers. "I know."
It's easier when the food comes, and the conversation drifts from cooking to memorable meals to holidays, and after a while, Pepper listens to Tony talking about helping his mother make Cioppino for Christmas, his face more animated than it's been in a long time.
"She was incredible with most of it, but she hated cooking the crabs and lobsters, so she'd go out of the kitchen while Dad and I put them in to boil. I wasn't too crazy about that part either, but man, the taste!" In a very Italian gesture, Tony bunches the fingertips of one hand and kisses them, grinning. "It was great stuff; legendary I tell you. We'd gorge ourselves. Between that and the bread and the Panettone we were set until New Years."
Pepper props her elbow on the table and cups her chin in one hand, watching him. "Sounds fabulous."
"Great stuff," Tony repeats, and falters a little, sighing. "I haven't had any in . . . twenty-five years, but I still remember it."
"Do you have the recipe?" Pepper asks softly.
Tony looks slightly startled, and thinks hard for a moment. "I probably do in one of the old cookbooks or my mother's files. But it's not a dish for a single person, believe me. Cioppino is for the masses, mostly after Mass."
Pepper nods. It's on the tip of her tongue to suggest making it this year for the Christmas party, but she senses Tony isn't ready to do that just yet, and she doesn't want to stop him from sharing. It's been lovely just to listen to him talk about something dear and important to him.
"You like seafood?" he asks, suddenly very busy scooping up the last of his carne asada.
Pepper feels a quick thrill in her chest. "Yep."
000ooo000ooo000
By the time they've paid and packed up Pepper's unfinished quesadillas, it's gotten dark outside, and the coolness of night feels good after the warm restaurant. Pepper takes Tony's hand, feeling a renewed sense of giddiness inside.
"That was good," he tells her, and those three words cover more than just the meal, Pepper knows. She squeezes his fingers, and he returns the pressure, the corner of his mouth quirking up. He lets go of her hand and slips his arm around her as they stroll back to the car.
Tony pulls away from the curb smoothly and heads for the highway, negotiating the streets with easy grace as Pepper settles into her seat and watches the streetlights flick by. She risks a sidelong glance at Tony, who is doing the same.
"Take you home?" he asks, voice low.
Pepper shakes her head. "No," she says, very deliberately. "I want . . . I want to sleep with you tonight."
The car lurches for a second, and she almost laughs at that. Tony grips the wheel, nostrils flaring. "Oh."
"If it's too soon—" Pepper says, but he shakes his head emphatically.
"—No! No, it's . . . yeah, oh yeah. Good," Tony babbles, breathing deeply. "We've got the weekend, and I bought you a toothbrush, and it's good, yeah."
"I have a toothbrush," Pepper tells him. "And a change of clothes."
'Clothes?" Tony echoes, then nods. "Oh yeah. Clothes. Clothes are good."
Pepper laughs then, tossing her head back. "Okay, yes, clothes are good, and so is the *speed limit,* Tony---"
The speedometer drops from eighty back down to a legal sixty-two, and Tony gives a little squeeze of the wheel. "Sorry."
"It's okay," she tells him softly. "I'm . . . pretty revved for this too." Pepper pauses a moment and smiles more deeply. "You really bought me a toothbrush?"
Tony gives a little sheepish shrug. "Yeah . . . a stainless steel sonic one with adjustable head and a waterpic thingie and since I didn't know what toothpaste you liked I just got, um, a bunch."
"Tony!" Pepper splutters, amused and astonished at the degree of thought he's put into something as mundane as oral hygiene. An inkling of amused suspicion grows. "Did you get anything else?"
"Hey, I want you to be comfortable!" Tony blurts as they take the turnoff for the road that leads towards Malibu.
"What else?" Pepper asks, her voice a little more gentle now.
He sighs dramatically. "Promise you won't be mad?"
"That remains to be seen. How*ever* it would be ungracious of me, so I'll . . . try," she promises.
"Okay. I got you some slippers and a robe and some bubble bath and a hairbrush and fuzzy socks and um, that whole Victoria's Secret outfit you mentioned, but hey, that one was *your* fault because if you hadn't described it, it wouldn't have been on my *mind* when I was picking up the other stuff. Oh, and a coffee mug," he trails off.
Pepper says nothing, mouth open slightly. Tony shifts, and speaks up again. "Okay, before you get mad, no, I had no idea you and I would . . . you know, tonight. I just got thinking about the whole relationship thing, and figured it would be nice to show you that yeah, I want you around for MORE than just the physical stuff and what better way than to have some of *your* things with *my* things. That's how it works, right?"
She blinks a little, overwhelmed by not only the generosity, but the sweet, crazy *logic* of Tony's thinking. Pepper gives a slow, dazed nod. "Um, yeah, usually."
"Good. Got it right then," Tony replies, relief clear in his voice. "Given the law of averages I was about due for the upswing."
"Yes, but you don't . . . you don't have to *buy* me things, Tony. I appreciate what you've done, really, but from now on . . ." Pepper tells him softly, "I'm good in the stuff department. Really."
He's silent a moment, and she notes he's not quite sulking, but not quite happy either. Pepper drops her hand on his thigh, and the car accelerates again, making her stifle a giggle. "Am I distracting you?"
"*You* are playing with fire, Pepper Potts; be warned," comes his sweet, quiet threat.
Tingles of anticipation rise in her tummy, and she feels her breathing coming faster now.
The rest of the drive is quick and quiet; Tony focuses on driving, his natural skills making it a short trip. He realizes he's rushing, mostly because he's worried Pepper will change her mind, and *that* would be nearly impossible to smile and agree to at this point.
He wants her, yeah, no denying that, but it's more than just a physical thing. Tony realizes he wants her because she smells great, and because her hair is so soft, and he adores the way her waist feels in his hands---
God, because he loves her.
They reach the mansion, and the garage opens. By unspoken agreement, neither of them look towards the re-sodded lawn and drying cement foundation of the greenhouse. Instead, the car pulls in and Tony parks. Both of them sit in the car a moment longer, not looking at each other.
Then Pepper reaches for the keys and pulls them from the ignition. She gives Tony a soft, hesitant smile. "Let's go . . . brush our teeth."
It's the right thing to say, and Tony smirks, tossing his fake ponytail back. "Subtle there, Potts. Let me carry your bag in, and I'll show you your newest wonder device for oral hygiene."
"Be still my heart," She teases back, climbing out of the car.
*** *** ***
Tony spends a good ten minutes expounding on the beauties of the new toy, demonstrating all the bells and whistles for Pepper, who at the end of the lecture, solemnly promises to use it for good and not for evil.
Suddenly, Tony is very interested in the evil possibilities, and Pepper threatens him with the water pick. Slightly huffy, he gets his own high tech toothbrush, which is monogrammed with a gold TS of all things.
"We should use the same toothpaste," Pepper tells him. "If I'm using Colgate and you're using Crest, it's going to make kissing you taste strange."
Tony looks at her as if she's from another planet. "They're both mint."
"Not the same intensity," Pepper fusses. "Crest is really harsh."
"Harsh," Tony echoes, as if this is some foreign word.
"Burning," Pepper tells him. "Like triple menthol with crushed ice in it."
"Some youthful brushing incident scarred you, didn't it?" he murmurs, pulling open a drawer and revealing a collection of various pastes all still in their boxes. Ceremoniously Tony fishes out the Crest and whistles; Butterfingers rolls in, claw arm twisting with curiosity.
"You, take this despicable tube of minty-fresh *death* and dispose of it, pronto. Stand by in case there are more grooming products that require a bomb squad."
Pepper is torn between laughing and being really *annoyed* at Tony making fun of her. He waves to the drawer. "Choose a dentifrice, Snuggles—any one you prefer?"
She tries to glare at him, but Tony sweeps behind her and carefully wraps himself along her back, arms extending alongside hers as he waves his toothbrush. "And load me up with whatever you like. I'm here to protect you from the cavity creeps."
"O-kay, maybe it's not a shock to *your* system," she grumbles, reaching for a silver box, "But then again I bet *you* didn't have to wear braces and go through the agony of two years of tightening and bleeding gums."
In the mirror, Tony winces. "Ow."
Pepper exaggerates her shudder; the feel of Tony's comforting arms around her is so nice. Carefully she loads up her new brush and then Tony's with long lines of paste. "Exactly, so brushing is serious business, Mr. Stark."
"If it's any consolation, Ms. Potts, you have a terrific smile. I've heard testimonials."
The brush is already in her mouth, so she cocks an enquiring eyebrow. Tony starts to brush himself. "O'ey an Appy."
She rolls her eyes and focuses on brushing, amused to have Tony behind her scrubbing away at his own teeth, both of them staring in the mirror and foaming at the mouth now.
It's impossible to be serious, especially with white dribbles leaking out of the corners of their lips, and Pepper bends to spit, making her ass bump against Tony, who gives a frothy gurgle. "Ooooogh. *IKE at!"
Feeling mischievous, Pepper makes it a point to lightly grind against him as she rinses, and from the slightly dazed expression of the man, it's an effective strategy. With care she washes her new brush and straightens up, only to be trapped between the counter and Tony's torso. He puckers his white coated lips at her. "Oo are ery exy en oo ush."
"Rinse," she tells him, trying not to laugh as she steps out of the bathroom.
Tony does in record time, wiping his mouth on the hand towel and bounding out of the bathroom in happy anticipation, nearly colliding with Pepper, who is loitering outside the door.