The holiday party at the hospital turns out to be fun, especially as Pepper watches Tony's matchmaking in action. She's amused at his nosy interest, and makes it a point to re-direct his attention back repeatedly to the donors and kids, thus letting Jim and Miss Zody chat without interference.
"Why this sudden urge to set Jim up?" Pepper asks quietly as later on they move through the buffet table. Tony, an old hand at choosing the safest items from such a display, scoops up fruit and slices of cheese.
"Is it so wrong to want to share the love?" Tony murmurs, a tad defensively. "In a non-threesome sort of way, that is. *I'm* happy and considering it's the Christmas season, I feel the need to share. Especially since I can't put up those billboards I want."
Pepper's dimples deepen. "Yes, well splaying out the subtle message 'T.S. loves P.P' in bright neon and running lights along the landscape of California's highways is a no-go, Tony. Not now, not *ever.*"
"Fine," Tony huffs, dropping a pair of pink and lonely melon balls on Pepper's plate. "Here, here's some symbolism for you."
"Tony," Pepper chides sweetly. "In the first place, those are, um, waaay too small to represent the Stark legacy."
"Okay, I love you for that right there," Tony concedes with an intimate grin. "And your second point?"
"The second point is that we're supposed to be *discreet.* That means no grand public overtures, no physical contact, no slips to the media," she reminds him firmly in a quiet voice.
They've been over this repeatedly; Pepper has made it abundantly clear that any impulsive revelations on Tony's part will force an immediate re-evaluation of the relationship.
She doesn't *want* to hold him hostage to good behavior this way, but Pepper Potts hasn't managed to keep her firm footing through years of the chaotic day-to-day schedule of Tony Stark's life by being careless. Stocks have risen and fallen in response to the billionaire's publicity, and the fallout from his previous 'I AM Iron Man' escapade is still echoing through the conservatives throughout the planet.
"You know that *Izzy* knows we're an item," Tony tells her as they make their way out of the buffet line and over to the head table. Tony leads the way, looking good in his lightweight cream suit with red candy cane shirt.
"Izzy hasn't got the nerve to say anything," comes Pepper's exasperated response. "He's terrified of you *and* Happy."
"True," Tony sighs. "Remember the inhaler?"
Pepper does. Izzy Lattimore is a skinny, scruffy asthmatic free-lance paparazzo photographer for The Weekly Whisper; the lowest of the low in supermarket tabloids. He camps outside the perimeter of the estate, a meek figure in cast-off camouflage pants and vest, looking more like a forlorn Shaggy Rogers without his Scooby-do than anything else.
Tony had ignored the man for a few years, particularly since Izzy never did anything more than take a few half-hearted photos of the mansion, and wander along the edge of the estate. Rain or shine, Izzy was there loitering around the front gate from six in the morning until after nine on the nights Tony was home, as much a fixture on the landscape as the palm trees.
One morning though, Tony had felt impish, and made Happy stop the car just outside the gate. Izzy had freaked, and by the time Tony stepped out of the limo, the panicking paparazzo had gone into a fit of asthmatic wheezing so loud that he sounded like Darth Vader playing a one-note harmonica. Alarmed, Tony tried to calm him down, but in his flailing, Izzy managed to drop his inhaler and step on it himself, crunching the plastic nozzle to bits, right before passing out.
Pepper called the ambulance; Tony insisted on a private room and paid the hospital bill in full. The story never made any tabloids, not even The Whisper.
Within a week Izzy was back, as timid as ever, but now when the limo passes through the gate he shyly waves, and sometimes Tony unrolls the window and waves back, amused.
"He's like Chuchundra, from Rikki-Tikki-Tavi," Tony sighs, "Too afraid to run into the middle of the room."
Pepper nods. "I wish the rest of the media was like that."
"Fat chance," Tony snorts. "The rest of the hyenas are strong and healthy."
"All the more reason not to give them anything to chew on," Pepper warns. "And that includes the two of *us.*"
Tony gives a little sigh, then pushes his plate away. "Fine. I'll go flirt outrageously with other women if it makes you happy."
"Let me pick the women, and it might," Pepper responds serenely. Tony shoots her a sidelong glance, his eyebrow waggling insinuation clear, and she laughs softly. "No threesomes, Mr. Stark. Unless I get to pick the other man."
His expression swiftly shifts to a flash of pure possessiveness that makes her toes curl; there are some things that Tony Stark does *not* share, and Pepper is very glad she's top of the list.
"Like *hell,*" he growls, and smoothly slips away from the table. Pepper watches him scoop up a little patient with a sparkly eye-patch, carrying her onto the dance floor and swaying with her as she giggles delightedly. She chatters away with Tony, one arm around his neck, and Pepper smiles.
*** *** ***
Tony looks at the recipe card, and a welling of emotion rises up in him, pushing just behind the arc in his chest. His eyes sting, and he feels that even though there is pain, it's diluted; somehow softened by time. Under it, Tony finds the desire to reclaim something that's been missing for a long, long time.
"Christmas Eve, Potts. I want a party."
Pepper glances over from the cupboard where she's stocking groceries, surprised. "You do?"
"Yep. Something small and close—Rhodey and three or four good people. Mona and Marv; Enrique and Alden, maybe." Tony looks to her. "Is that okay?"
Pepper is about to speak; to object since this is going to be their first holiday together, but then she spots the card in his hand and suddenly she understands.
The cioppino.
She nods, dipping her head so Tony won't see her sudden tears. "Of course, Tony. Yes."
He comes over and wraps his arms around her from behind, burying his nose in her hair as they stand together in the kitchen for a long quiet moment. Slowly Tony whispers to Pepper. "Thank you. I don't know if it's going to be good or not, but I think . . . it's time to try."
Pepper nods. She leans back in his embrace, sniffing a little, and reaches for her BlackBerry on the counter. "Yes. So—this means a new shopping list and a to-do list."
"Yep. Clams, mussels, whitefish, scallops, shrimp, oregano—"
"—We have that, fresh, in the greenhouse," Pepper informs him delightedly. "Along with rosemary, basil, mint, chives and green onions."
"I *knew* that big terrarium would come in handy for sex, but fresh herbs? Who knew?" Tony murmurs, shifting his hands to cup her breasts.
Before Pepper can chide him, Jarvis interrupts their playful tête-à-tête. "Excuse me, sir, but there is a UPS truck approaching the gate."
"Oh?" Tony's voice feigns indifference. "I'll just go down and pick up whatever's being delivered."
"Tony—!" comes the warning, but Jarvis intercedes once more.
"According to the tracking information, the parcels in question *are* indeed addressed to Mr. Stark."
Now it's Pepper's turn to look inquisitive, and Tony lifts his chin, doing his best to look imperious. "No. Two can play at the 'hide presents before Christmas' game, and right now this is my move, so stay put while I go see a man about some . . . stuff."
Pepper gives a shrug. "Certainly Mr. Stark. I'm sure you can handle whatever it is. I'll just . . . work on the shopping list."
"You do that."
"Here, in the kitchen."
"Exactly."
"Without peeking."
"Very good, Miss Potts," he tells her, then dashes out the kitchen door. Pepper wanders over to the counter, tapping her nails on the polished granite surface, her expression slightly irked, and very much amused.
"Jarvis?"
"I have been instructed in the strictest terms not to give you *any* information regarding the delivery," comes the slightly apologetic tone.
"Fine," Pepper sighs. "Take *his* side."
"This is hardly a contest of wills," Jarvis chides. "And given the number of holiday gift items currently located in your former residence, I find your attitude fascinating."
She breaks into a smile and laughs at herself. "You know what, Jarvis? So do I."
*** *** ***
The Christmas Eve dinner party is pretty much a success. Happy is absent; holiday plans take him north, and Pepper suspects that there is a woman in the scenario. She's glad for him; of all the drivers and bodyguards Tony has employed, Happy is the most solid, most dependable, most discreet and accepting. Pepper makes sure he takes the wrapped present and frosted gingerbread men before he leaves.
The guest list is small: Rhodey of course, Miss Zody, and Happy's aunt and uncle, Mona and Marv, a pair of little old people who look like apple doll versions of Happy. They run the Covenant Heart Rescue Mission, which Tony funds generously. Mona and Marv adore Tony enough to chide gently him about his drinking and womanizing and lack of ambition—
And he takes it from them. Nobody else on the planet gets away with calling Tony Stark a slacker. But considering that eighty-two year old Marv barely comes up to Tony's shoulder, and his comments are done with gruff and clear affection, Tony doesn't mind.
The cioppino is wonderful. Not only is Maria Stark's recipe clear and easy to follow, but Tony remembers all the little touches that make it delicious, adding just the right amount if basil and garlic as Mona looks around his shoulder and compliments him. Cooking is good therapy for Tony and having everyone wandering in and out of the kitchen makes for a happy group.
Pepper sips her wine and watches; Tony has on an apron that reads I am Iron Chef, clearly and he's dicing garlic like he's done it all his life. At the moment everyone else is out somewhere around; Jim is giving Jodie a tour of the place, and the Hogans are probably playing with Rrrrrrr.
Under the soft spell of Vince Guaraldi, Pepper impishly decides to make her move. She shifts to stand next to Tony, nuzzling the side of his cheek gently. He blinks a little, but turns to nuzzle her back, delighted with her gentle affection. "Garlic getting to you, Potts? Or possibly the vino?"
"Both," she teases. "I find the sight of you engaged in domestic creativity arousing, Mr. Stark."
"Really?" he replies, lifting the cutting board and scraping the garlic into the pot with the knife. "Just wait until you see me vacuum, then. I have a riding model in mind--"
"I have something *else* in mind," Pepper tells him gently, and leans to bring her lips to his ear. Her whisper is soft, but Tony closes his eyes and gives a thrilled little groan, nearly dropping the knife into the cioppino in reaction.
"Okay, you have to stop promising me things like that when other people are around, because it would be damned rude for me to throw you over my shoulder and carry you off to the bedroom--"
"Who said anything about the bedroom? I was thinking after the party we could lay out between the Christmas tree and the fireplace," Pepper breathes into his ear, and licks it for good measure.
Tony clamps his jaw, but the pulse along the side of his neck gives him away. "Killing me here, Potts. And I'm going to hold you to *every* word."
"Good," she tells him, and smiles again as he slips an arm around her waist, pulling her to him for a kiss.
*** *** ***
Later, after the guests have gone, when the dishes are done and night has settled across the coast, bringing darkness with twinkles in it, Pepper turns her attention to kissing Tony.
She likes doing it, more so with him than anyone else in her modest experience. Tony kisses with a warmth and deliberation that Pepper savors, and he's generous enough to let her lead when she so desires.
Tonight, she does. Pepper feels herself unfold within; unclench and relax, her mood warmed not only by the joy of the season, but also by the understanding that this has been a long time coming. This trust and faith in what she and Tony have.
This love.
Pepper loves him, and lets herself think it, feel it, get drunk on it as she undresses him, playing with his beard, planting kisses down his neck, toying with his nipples. Under her touch, Tony smiles and sighs and shudders, his pleasure beautiful in the glow of the fire. He's unself-conscious about the arc now, and her fingers circle it gently before moving down the hard muscles of his stomach.
Tony watches her, letting her set the pace and do what she will to him, his smile soft and a little dazed; a man in love who still cannot quite believe his good luck. Pepper notes that Tony's skin is warm and the scent of it, rich with his pheromones is making her hungry for him on the most basic, primitive level. Carefully Pepper closes her teeth on one nipple, bringing forth a groan from Tony.
"Gahhh! Snuggles . . ." he drawls out in a slow pleasured voice, "I have to tell you something."
"Take your pants off," she replies, "Do that first."
He looks slightly annoyed and very much excited; this bears out when Tony uncovers an erection that's definitely glad to see her. Pepper slides one palm under the thick shaft, caressing it playfully.
"You like this," she tells him as he throbs in her hand.
"I cannot lie; yes I do," Tony admits in his forthright way. "Very much so. Um, Pepper. I need to tell you . . . about tonight . . ."
"I already know," she murmurs, and toys with his shaft, her fingers curling around it, stroking softly. Tony blinks, torn between trying to talk and just enjoying the hand job.
"Wh-what? What do you know? Oh, niiiice. Not the not knowing, the um, yeah . . . *thaaaat* . . ." he mumbles as Pepper's fingers tighten gently.
"That you've never done it," Pepper tells him, and bends to let her tongue circle the head of his prick. Tony gasps, hips rocking forward before his brain hears what she's said because his body is very much with the program while his head is still a few steps behind.
"Wait, you *know*?" he manages, "How—?"
Pepper looks up at him, brushing her hair back and her smile is patient. "I just do. But after tonight, you won't be a twenty-three virgin . . . unless you want to stop."
His eyebrows go up and Tony shakes his head. "Not a chance," he mutters thickly, and stretches out along with her on the thick rug.
After that it's all a matter of heat and slickness and heavy breathing; of Pepper languid and damp with pleasure as she gently murmurs encouragement to him, guiding Tony, going slowly enough for them both to relax.
The initial breech is unexpectedly exquisite, and both Tony and Pepper groan with pleasure, holding there for long moments. She relaxes, adjusting to the full sensation, and gradually, Pepper looks over her shoulder and nods, her whisper throaty. "Deeper. Please."
Tony fights a shudder and moves slowly, lost in the incredible heat, the sweet squeeze of Pepper's ass. He sees the long trough of her spine in the firelight, damp and slender, the way her body moves against his, and the lovely taboo-tinged image of himself thrusting deeply between her pert cheeks is too much. He closes his eyes as the flash heat loveyouPeppergodIloveyou!! surges in a wild shock through his body and his hips thrust forward sharply.
He slumps over her as Pepper gives a delighted cry, her body shuddering under his. They lie, still united, on the rug for a long time, not speaking, bodies cooling a little. Finally Tony grips the base of his softening cock to hold the condom in place and pulls away with a shuddering sigh, rolling onto his back and closing his eyes. He pulls Pepper to him, and she cuddles in against his chest.
"And now," Tony mumbles. "We have to get married."
"We do? Thank you, by the way. That was . . . incredible," Pepper sighs.
"Welcome. Totally. And yeah. Because I'm not ever doing this with anyone except my wife. And that's going to be you."
"Tony—" he can feel her smile against his chest. "Does this mean you want to um, do it again sometime?"
"Give me twenty minutes," he promises her his voice already sleepy, and Pepper laughs.