Author's Note: Truly, thank you all for the kind reviews. I'm so glad my little daydream is as enjoyably to you as it is me.

The Epiphany of Wrongs and Pancakes
III. Twenty Questions in Three
By: StriderX

Pepper held her breath, begging not to trip as she walked out to the deck—she knew he was watching her every move with more then normal interest. This concept was one that was both deeply exciting to the girl in her, but utterly terrifying to the woman. What she had successfully fended off for nine years was finally happening…without protest. She couldn't explain it…it just felt right. And in one of the few times in her life, she had no idea how to react.

So, she did what anyone in her situation would've done: she poured herself a tall glass of orange juice, a short mug of coffee, and sat down, undyingly curious to see what would happen next.

In an eternity of three minutes and twenty-three seconds, the glass door slid open and Tony emerged pushing a metal cart elegantly covered with two plates (each holding three pancakes and a little ball of butter), a big bowl of strawberries, a plate of little sugar cookies (he knew she loved those), and three small glass pitchers (hot syrup, bubbling chocolate sauce, and fresh whipped cream—a little odd in a pitcher, but okay).

She giggled as he filled the table with the most beautiful breakfast she'd ever seen. With the sun shimmering over the blue horizon and the soft soundtrack of waves kissing the beach, all that was missing was—

"Oh!" Tony yelped, running back inside. In an instant, he reemerged with a short glass vase filled with white lilies and beautiful pink and yellow orchids. As he placed it in the centre of the table, her grin finally escaped. Now, this was completely perfect.

She couldn't help herself. "Oh, Tony, this is gorgeous!" her voice was surprisingly quiet, stunned.

He smirked proudly while sitting across from her; never once did his eyes leave her face. Nothing in him cared that he was being a little too forward. "Well, let's just hope it's edible."

She giggled again, pushing a stray bang back behind her ear. For a moment she looked over the rail and to the crystal ocean below. "What a beautiful day."

He followed her gaze, but part of him was still staring at her. "Yeah…" but not as beautiful as you, he added mentally.

Abruptly, she turned back toward him, glaring him down as if she'd really heard that last part. A thousand times in a second Tony ran through his mind; he had just thought that, right? Then, just as quickly, she smiled again and moved her attention to doctoring up her pancakes. He watched in utter fascination. Pancake, butter, strawberries, syrup. Pancake, butter, strawberries, syrup. Pancake, butter, strawberries, syrup. And finally, with a guilty little smirk, a perfect dollop of whipped cream right on top.

"Wow," he whistled. She looked over at his plate (still just pancakes and butter) as if signaling his turn. He took the hint and happily spooned out some strawberries over the cakes, smothered them with chocolate sauce, and topped with a significantly less perfect plop of the fluffy white. She was still smiling, but shaking her head with a slight roll of her eyes. Undaunted, he grabbed his fork and nodded. "Yum!"

In silence, they ate, simply enjoying each other's company and the perfection of the whole morning. For the first time in a long time, neither of them could think of what time it was or where Tony was undoubtedly supposed to be. For once, it really was just the two of them and a simple summer breakfast. There was still half a pancake on her plate when she put down her fork and relaxed in the cushioned metal chair. He was still trying to get up all the chocolate sauce without actually licking the plate.

Finally, he looked at her, same boyish grin coating his face.

"Thank you, Tony, for this," Pepper began; suddenly feeling entirely comfortable. "It was wonderful."

Tony put down his fork and leaned back in his own chair. "Pepper, what's your favourite colour?"

Her delicate eyebrow's arched slightly, surprised by the seemingly random question. "What?"

"It occurred to me this morning that after all these years, there's very little I know about you. Your favourite colour, for one."

"Oh," she honestly did have to think about it for a second. As simple as it was, it's not a question people asked her often. But then, as she looked out over the shimmering azure sea, she smiled. "Blue, I think."

He nodded, satisfied. "What's the first thing you remember?"

She was a little stifled by the 'twenty questions', but that wasn't stopping her from thinking…or answering. "I remember…before I was a year old, I was sitting in a stroller in a park, staring at the sky," she turned back to the blue. "and there was this green and yellow butterfly that landed on my nose. I thought it was the most beautiful thing."

For a long minute, she could feel Tony peering through her eyes and into her soul. There was a true, genuine expression on his face like nothing she'd ever seen before. When he finally spoke again, his voice was significantly softer, raspier; more emotional then it had ever been. "And what about your first kiss?"

"My first boyfriend in high school," she, too, was taken aback by the new tone her own voice had adopted. Tony found it almost forbiddingly sultry. "On our second date he took me for an evening picnic," she giggled, too caught up in the memory to be nervous anymore. "He was so nervous; he held his breath for so long I thought he'd pass out. He actually asked if he could kiss me."

And there was the silence again, this one lasting much longer as the two unconsciously got lost in the other's eyes. His were always so dark and glimmering with only the subtlest hint of chocolate auburn in their depths. Hers were such a rich blue that blended perfectly with the sea: sparkling and still in the sun, but stormy and full of life underneath.

Finally, Tony found his voice. "Pepper?"

"Hm?" she was still so caught in his soul.

"May I kiss you?" the words came like a dying man's very last plea, like it's fulfillment would somehow lift his death and spring him to life again.

She heard the words, but more then that, she felt their meaning. At any other time, she would've quickly rolled her eyes and thrown up the barriers all over again: typical Tony Stark playboy, she'd say. But today, today she felt him inside her…she felt the gravel in his voice turning about her heart and melting it with the friction of infinite possibilities. Absently, she thought that this may be the single most emotional, genuine thing he'd ever said.

"Yes."

Tony felt as if he'd been walking on a cloud—or at least, what he assumed walking on a cloud would feel like if it were actually possible. But who cared about logics right then? He'd just been given permission to kiss the woman he was fastly loosing his mind for.

He couldn't remember moving, or even kneeling before her. He couldn't remember placing one hand on the arm of her chair or caressing her cheek with the other. He couldn't even remember how many heartbeats flashed by in ten seconds' time. All he knew was that there, under the glowing mid-morning sun, his lips met hers and slowly, agonizingly, they leaned into each other and painted the purest, gentlest kiss that ever existed.

Inside, their hearts felt to jump out of their chests and dance together for a moment; a graceful, romantic waltz in the warm summer air.

He grinned through the paradise. He would never understand her. He would never understand why she always stayed by his side or why she was sitting there right then, kissing him just as fervently. But just this once, the whole world and every colour in it suddenly just…made sense. In that moment, there was no 'Iron Man', there was no Stark Industries, and there was no 'Mr. Stark' and 'Ms. Potts'. Right then, there was only the two of them, kissing under the glowing Malibu sun.

TBC.

Third Bit: Yes, the fateful kiss. Only one more left. Just tying up the ends.