Tony wakes to the sounds of Dean Martin crooning carols, and a soft shake of his shoulder. He blinks, smiles up at Pepper and then realization dawns on him. Scrabbling, he climbs out of bed. "Christmas. Yowza, it's Christmas, right?"

"Yep," Pepper assures him, handing him an espresso. "Santa came last night."

"Santa wasn't the only one," he quips back, waggling his eyebrows. Pepper blushes and turns away, not at ALL willing to acknowledge the remark. Tony slurps the coffee and moves to get in her face, looking carefully at her. "Come on, Pepper—it was wonderful, fantastic, amazing, at least for me."

"Yes, well me too," she murmurs, taking the cup from him. "What do you want for breakfast—waffles or pancakes?"

"Candy canes," Tony announces with a grin.

She mock-glares at him. "No. Bad enough you've got potent caffeine in your system. Adding sugar on top of that? I don't think so, Mr. Stark."

"I *like* bouncing off the walls--metaphorically speaking," he adds wincing at memories.

Pepper snickers, clearly aware of his trials and errors in building the Suit. "Of course you do. But, for the moment we're going to settle for waffles and juice. You can bring in our stockings too."

"Stockings?" Tony looks slightly baffled; Pepper grins.

"Stockings. We'll open them at breakfast. Didn't you do that as a kid?"

"Nope," he admits. "Our stockings were for decoration."

She pats his cheek. "Poor boy. Go check and see if Santa left you anything in yours this year. And NO candy canes!"

Tony darts out to the living room, sliding in socks to the front of the fireplace, glancing back at the rug in a rush of memory that makes him moan a little. He reluctantly turns his attention to the stockings sitting on the hearth, amused, intrigued and delighted all in one, particularly at the sight of his own stocking, well-filled with small, wrapped packages.

"Score. Oh yeah, I could get into THIS," he mutters to himself, and gleefully scoops up the two stockings. As he passes by the tree he hums the opening bars of Jingle Bells; the lights go on automatically. Tony reaches out and nabs a candy cane, adding it to his stocking, and staring at the packages mounded under the tree. "Okay. Like the looks of the haul. Definitely into this sort of Christmas."

Most of his previous Christmases have been spent sleeping. Sleeping with pills, sleeping off hangovers, sleeping in the garage in exhaustion and/or to avoid whoever was upstairs in his bed.

Tony realizes he hadn't been conscious much for this holiday in the last few years.

He wonders how Pepper used to spend them. Cruising back into the kitchen, he sets the stockings down, and asks her.

She smiles. "Usually stayed home, waiting for your one phone call from jail. Sometimes I got daring and slipped out to Paul's, but mostly I kept close to home."

"Alone?" Tony questions, frowning, and feeling guilty.

Pepper gives a blissful sigh. "Oh yes. I *loved* the peace and quiet."

"Oh," comes his slightly deflated response. "I guess you never really take a lot of vacation time, do you?"

"Rarely," Pepper admits, and adds, "It's okay, Tony. I get away just enough to stay sane, trust me."

He stands behind her, slipping his arms around Pepper's waist and nuzzling the back of her neck under the ponytail. "*One* of us has to be."

They eat. Tony pours syrup on his waffle, then proceeds to crunch up the candy cane and sprinkle the broken bits over the top, to Pepper's slightly horrified chagrin. "Tony!"

"One day a year," he counters, and adds candy cane crumbles to her waffle as well. "It's gonna be a new tradition."

"You know, I'm going on a hunch here, but I'm pretty sure you could have be diagnosed back in your childhood as ADD, right? AND hyperactive?"

"Genius," Tony counters loftily. "My IQ was my 'get out of jail free' card all the way through MIT."

"Hmmm," she replies, but the dimple is deep along the corner of her mouth and Pepper cuts up her waffle without another word.

As Tony clears the dishes, she picks up her stocking and pulls out a few of the little wrapped boxes. "So, let's see how well Santa knows me . . . oooh, Eclipse body powder!"

"Good stuff?" he asks, coming back to look over her shoulder.

Pepper nods, holding up the box with a sense of satisfaction. She nods at Tony's stocking across the table. "Go on; dig in. I'm sure it's not coal."

Tony cocks his head and picks up his stocking, tipping it out onto the table; little packages, all beautifully wrapped go tumbling out. He picks up one and looks at the tag. "To Tony, from Santa. Gee, he's got handwriting that looks awfully familiar."

"Santa was running late, wanted me to address things," Pepper assures him. "I do that for him every year."

"Thoughtful of you," Tony murmurs. He rips the paper and a small can rolls out. Tony pounces on it, his grin wide. "Martelli k-level solder! Oh fabulous, yesssss! I've got a few projects that can use this like *yesterday!*"

Pepper smirks. "Is that a fact?"

Tony looks up, eyes bright. "It is indeed. I think I'm going to like this stocking thing."

They make their way through their waffles and stockings: Pepper's loot consists of high-end bath and cosmetic products, and Tony is quietly careful to note the brands she prefers. His own collection of goodies include new micro tools for maintenance on his computer hardware; a new wallet ("How does the big guy in the red suit *know* I needed one?" Tony murmurs,) fancy chocolate covered espresso beans, a laser pointer ("I think that's actually for Rrrrrrr," Pepper tells him,) and finally, some exotic sexual lubricant that he holds up as if it's a grand prize.

"Ha! Number 23, here I come. Literally!"

"Tony—" Pepper blushes, and reaches for the bottle. "First of all, you don't need to wave it around like an Olympic medal. Second of all, that one's *not* from Santa."

"God I *hope* not!" comes the sincere retort. "Because that would imply he was watching us last night, and frankly the thought of Kris Kringle getting his jingles from a down-the-chimney peeping porn fest is really, seriously creepy."

Pepper is both mortified and full of giggles; she bats at Tony's hand as he tries to retrieve the lube. "That's *IT.* No more candy canes for you if you know what's good for you, Mr. Stark!"

"I know what's good for me; this bottle right here is an excellent start for it."

"I *knew* that stuff was a bad idea," Pepper sighs under her breath.

*** *** ***

Pepper herds Tony as she always does, making him shower and dress before allowing him anywhere near the presents. Tony is amused at her clearly organized agenda, and goes along with it, curious to see how things unfold in the 'Christmas according to Pepper' plan.

Cheery holiday tunes play in the background, and when they both wander into the living room, clean and fed, Tony begins to snoop around the tree, rooting around happily. "Hey! I think this side is all yours."

"Mine?" Pepper murmurs, sipping more coffee. "I suppose. I behaved myself this year. Mostly."

Tony shoots her a deliberately skeptical look. "Suuuure you did, Miss Up-against-the-Window."

"Hearsay. No photographic evidence," Pepper assures him. "Pick a present already."

He does, pulling a large box in garish reindeer paper over to the sofa. Pepper grins as Tony studies the outside of it for a moment, his engineer's brain clearly trying to figure out the contents from weight and size. "Using your X-ray vision?"

"I could go get the Suit helmet—" he murmurs, brightening for a moment, but Pepper smacks his arm and he sighs. "Or not."

"Just open it."

Under the wrapping, Tony finds a new microwave oven, complete with remote. He blinks, vastly amused. "Is this some sort of comment about my workshop cooking skills?"

"Or lack thereof," Pepper nods. "I think it's time you donated your old Peeps slaughterhouse to charity, Tony."

He sighs. "I guess so. A good serial killer always cleans up the crime scene."

"Tony," Pepper rolls her eyes, "There are stalactites in your old one. Stalactites made of mustard, Jell-o and God only knows what else. I'm afraid of inadvertently re-animating the bologna in your sandwiches."

He grins.

They both open the present from Aunt Ruby, since it's addressed to the pair of them; out come knit pullover sweaters. Pepper's is mossy green with pretty seed pearls on it, and Tony's is red, with a little gold threaded along the cables. He stares at it a moment, silent.

"You don't like it?" Pepper asks gently. "I *did* give her the right size, and might have hinted about the colors--"

"No, no it's not that. It's really nice," Tony murmurs and adds, "I'm just a little blown away, that's all. Your aunt . . . she makes stuff for me. I don't get handmade, homemade things very often, you know? Takes some . . . getting used to."

Pepper nods, feeling a welling of love for the man. Rich as he is monetarily, Tony Stark has been a pauper in the emotional sense for a long time, and it's good to see him happy. He pulls on the sweater and smoothes it down, pleased with the fit. "Too bad I'll only get to wear it about a month out of the year out here."

"I'll pack it when you go to Aspen, or Anchorage or Oslo," Pepper assures him. "You'll be the cutest billionaire there."

"Aren't I always?" he simpers. "So now it's your turn." He bounds away and comes back with an elaborately wrapped box, thrusting it out to her and settling in on the sofa to watch. Pepper looks down at the expensive paper and intricate ten-layer bow in gossamer ribbon.

"This looks . . ."

"Exciting?"

"Dangerous," Pepper murmurs, and begins to peel open one corner. Slowly she opens the box, and pulls back the silvery tissue paper, bracing herself. Pepper reaches in and draws out . . .

. . A negligee.

It's more than that, though, it's a gauzy, smoke-colored gown of transparent silk that would showcase rather than cover; the sort of sheer lingerie a Vargas girl would coquettishly wear. Pepper blushes, half in embarrassment, and half in delight, because not only is the gown is stunningly beautiful, but also because Tony is looking at her with *that* look of his—the haunted, slightly fearful loving gaze that bares his heart to her.

Pepper holds the negligee up and the morning sun shines right through it, barely making a shadow on the stone floor. "Oh *Tony,*" she murmurs, letting her pleasure soak through his name.

"Yes," he murmurs, voice slow and thick, "I want you to say my name *just* like that when you model it for me."

"I'll . . . keep that in mind," Pepper assures him, and after a last pleased sigh, carefully folds up the lovely lingerie, repacking it into the pretty box. "Thank you . . . sweetheart."

Tony looks at her solemnly. "An actual term of endearment, too. Best Christmas ever so far."

Pepper's forehead wrinkles a bit as she frowns. "I've called you that before . . . haven't I?"

"Nope," he tells her. "You've always called me 'Mr. Stark,' or 'Tony' for as long as we've known each other."

"Hmmmm," Pepper nod thoughtfully. "Well I've *thought* it a lot."

"Really," Tony arches an eyebrow at her. "*Thought* it. Thought it and never let it just . . . slip out. Never a faux pas in public, or a hot little whisper in the dark?"

Now it's Pepper's turn to arch an eyebrow, but the curve of her smile makes her expression a beautiful thing, and she rises up. "Wait here. I have a present I want you to open."

She makes her way to the tree, moving surely, and picks up a package, bringing it back to Tony, who takes it from her. He studies the shape and shakes it. "Something smaller than the box itself in here."

"Camouflage," Pepper admits. "You're a snoop and I didn't want you to have any clues. This one's . . . important."

Tony nods, and pulls off the snowman paper, crumpling it and tossing it down. Rrrrrrr pounces on one of the balls, batting it across the stone floor, then dashing after it in mighty huntress fashion.

"Thanks," Tony calls after her. "I sleep better at night, knowing that if the Alien Paper Wads ever invade, you're on the job, Rrrrrrr."

Pepper clears her throat impatiently, and Tony turns back to the package in his hands. He pulls open the box, and reveals a photo album. Puzzled, Tony looks at Pepper, and then down again.

It's a standard album; square, brown faux leather, padded, and in embossed in gold lettering in the bottom right corner it says Doctor Handsome and Nurse Snuggles.

Tony blinks. He flips open the album and there are pictures in it: a press conference shot of him up at the podium at Stark Industries; a house camera still of him working in the garage, tinkering with the Roadster; another of him at some charity event.

The next page has pictures of Pepper. A portrait shot from the public relations office of SI; classy but impersonal. Another house camera picture of her in the living room working on her laptop; and a photo of her walking slightly behind Tony to the limo.

The rest of the pages are blank, and Tony looks up at Pepper, confused. She's pink, but her earnest expression is tinged with embarrassment and love as she softly speaks. "It's for us. To . . . make some memories, Tony. Because we need those. We need to collect them and keep them safe. I want pictures of Paradiso and Rrrrrr and you in your silly disguises and . . . everything, Tony. The things that are *us* right here, right now."

For a moment they don't speak, and Tony is blinking hard, his fingers gripping the album tightly. Then, in a quick, almost desperate way he drops it aside and reaches for Pepper, pulling her into his lap and enfolding her into a hug. The familiarity of the gesture makes his voice a little shaky as he whispers into her hair. "If you tell Platypus I cried, I'll deny it to my dying breath, Snuggles."

Pepper laughs and wipes her own cheeks. "I love you so much, Tony. I really do, and yes, I have for a long, long time."

"Making *me* one lucky bastard," Tony sighs. "Yes, pictures, lots and lots of pictures, Snuggles. We could start with a few of you in that negligee."

"Nice try; no. You can be the official photographer, but I retain rights as the editor of the album," Pepper smiles.

"Second album," Tony counters, his smile moving to a bright-eyed and relentlessly seductive one. "Snuggles After Dark. Ah yes, a nice little pillow book with lots and lots of skin. I've always wanted to do some nicely artistic upskirt shots of you."

"Don't make me dose all your candy canes with saltpeter, Tony."

He laughs and hugs her tighter, lost in the bliss of the moment, feeling more love around and over and between them than ever before. After another moment, Tony gently untangles himself from Pepper, holds up a finger, indicating she should wait, and goes to the presents.

Tony pulls out a small package and brings it to her; it's a flat dark blue velvet jeweler's box, the size of her palm, and she shoots him a questioning look, but he merely gestures back to the box.

Pepper opens it slowly, and draws in a breath at the strand of lustrous pearls resting on the satin lining.

Tony clears his throat. "Those belonged to my mother. She wore them to the hospital when I was born, and my dad used to joke that it was because she wanted to make a good impression on me."

"Tony! I can't . . . I can't take these!" Pepper protests, face flushed. He reaches down and picks up the strand from the box, moving to drape it around Pepper's throat and fasten the clasp under her ponytail.

"Yes, you can, and you should. Not for me, Virginia Potts, but because my mother would want you—the woman I love—to have them. Got that, Miss Potts?"

Pepper blinks hard, holding his gaze a moment, then launches herself at Tony, kissing him senseless.