A/N: ahhh! I have no idea what to say except you guys are all the greatest, and each and every review and smiley face is appreciated. That, and in my opinion, Ibuprofen should be spelled with a "ph" and not a "f".

Send well wishes out to 4persephone and her brood. They're trying to get settled in Minnesota at the moment. Work progresses on our three other stories slowly due to that and my being kinda obsessed with the latest Anne Bishop book. She's a fantasy writer I HIGHLY recommend. If you take me up on it, start with her Black Jewels series. The first book is called Daughter of the Blood.

When Tony logs in next its a full three days later, and while he's successfully made it out of bed, he aches from head to toe. The mission had been successful, but at the cost of a minor concussion, at least two cracked ribs, and an ankle that still didn't have a full range of motion thanks to a particularly ungraceful landing.

Pepper had taken one look at him when he got home and cancelled his appointments for a week before moving into his guest room so he'd have someone close at hand, at least for the first twenty-four hours. It was something he would have no doubt appreciated more if he hadn't been in a drug-induced haze. At the end of day two she'd gone home around ten...albeit with not quite completely veiled reluctance.

Now at the end of day three, he's managed to coax her off at six, by announcing when he came in that his goal was to imitate a coach potato from the moment that the business day came to an end – and that unless she wanted to watch him watch repeats of Baywatch all evening long it was time for her to "catch up on laundry or sleep or something."

Pepper had been...torn. Mainly between annoyance and amusement. "Call me if you need anything," she'd demanded as she'd cluttered the table in front of him with everything she thought he might need, short of alcohol. He was still on some low grade pain meds and she said her tolerance of his risk taking behavior stopped at mixing narcotics with alcohol.

"What I need is for you to get out of my hair," he'd said, half teasing, half serious. He'd gotten so used to talking to "Fanny" that this hovering, eagle-eyed version of Pepper was getting on his nerves a little.

It was then that he considered he might be getting in a little over his head. He also decided he didn't care. He liked talking to Pepper too much to stop meeting her online. And he was starting to wonder if the feeling wasn't mutual, because it seemed as if Pepper had checked her e-mail an unusual number of times that afternoon.

He had a eerie sort of feeling the two of them were...well...sort of dating?

Which was good...if he didn't think too hard about the fact that she was essentially all but cheating on him with him.

'Cheating's a bit harsh, Stark,' his conscience was quick to point out. 'After all, there's a difference between being emotionally attached to someone and being willing to chance a relationship because of those feelings.

Still, she was using him to avoid dealing with him. There was definite irony.

He wondered what she would do if he started dropping hints. What would her reaction be? If she started to suspect that TurboCharged was Tony Stark, would she be happy? Or would she pull back from that contact too? Or stop writing altogether? Tony didn't want that to happen, not just from a selfish, he-wanted-to-know-what-she-was-thinking standpoint, but because he could tell that it was helping her relieve stress.

She hadn't snapped at him once since he'd gotten back this latest time.

So, telling her...ever telling her who he was, was going to be, at best, very tricky. It was tempting to just stay tucked in the protected little hole they'd unintentionally carved for themselves online.

'Figure out what to do about it later,' he tells himself firmly. 'She'll probably be on in 5...4...3...2...'

Number1Fan's name flared to life on his chat engine's main screen. Her status made him laugh. 'Give me Mushu Pork or give me death.'

-Tough day?- he asks her, wondering what she'll say in reply to that.

-Tough week,- she acknowledges. -Though getting easier with each days that passes.-

-Are you going to tell me why it was rough? Or am I going to have to keep guessing what it is you do, my mysterious compadre. Though if you insist on keeping me in the dark, I have no problem telling myself you're a world class femme assassin a la Angelina Jolie in Mr. & Mrs. Smith.-

Pepper snorts. -Hardly. I'm an executive's supremely boring administrative assistant. That's all I'm gonna say though...after all, for all I know you could be a snarky version of Hannibal Lecture.-

-See, that's exactly the sort of excuse a top level assassin should use so that she doesn't have to off her nearest and dearest...you are a woman and not a 54 year old man, aren't you?-

-My name is Bob. I have a comb-over,- she shoots back, deadpan.

-Hmmm. You've just ruined the fantasy for me. We can no longer write tentacle machine porn together.-

-Since we were never going to, I weep at the fact. Copiously.-

There's a knock on the door and Pepper just about knocks the table over in her haste to answer the door. That must be dinner. Tonight she is going to pig out on Chinese food and the half full container of Ben & Jerry's Americone Dream in her freezer. She'd throw a glass of wine in for good measure, but she wants to be able to drive if Tony needs her.

She dishes out her dinner and puts it in the microwave to reheat quickly as she changes into sweats and fuzzy socks.

When she gets back, it's to find the window idle. She frowns a moment then types in, -You still with me?-

-Yeah.- The replies comes back. -Just deciding if I'm motivated enough to get up and make a run on the freezer. I've been eating light the past few days, but I'm finally starting to feel hungry again.-

She frowns. -You're sick?-

-Nah. Just been putting in some long hours at work. My 'cubicle' has a lousy, lousy snack machine.-

-That is a load of male machismo if I've ever heard it. You should make yourself some chicken soup or scramble up some eggs. Depriving yourself of protein is a bad thing.-

-I have some frozen wild rice soup in the freezer. As I said, I'm working on the motivation thing.-

Pepper snorts. -How's this for motivation: until you eat, you don't get your beta back.-

Tony blinks. -You're kidnapping my story?-

-I prefer to think of it as a 'pleasant short term vacation.'-

-Will there be smut in it when I get back?-

-Go eat your dinner, Tony.-

Tony catches his breath. 'Tony?' She knows? He exhales carefully. 'Don't overreact.' Then types in -Tony?-

Pepper looks at the question blinking on her screen. -Tony/Turbo. Sorry. I've been writing in my head all day to distract myself, and I guess I'm still in full Potts-mother-hen mode.-

Tony relaxes. -That's fine. I don't mind playing your 'metaphorical Tony.'-

-God, that's the last thing I need. First you volunteer to be my metaphorical Tony, and the next thing I know, my metaphorical Potts will have her tongue down his metaphorical throat. Go get something to eat before I type metaphorical again.-

-Chicken- He replies. -BRB.-

Chicken? No, Just hanging on to her principles by her fingertips and finding it all too easy to flirt with her online friend. Pepper gently bangs the back of her head against her couch. 'Get a grip,' she advises herself. 'You always knew this was a slippery path. Don't screw things up now.'

When Turbo returns he types, -There. Supper cooking in the microwave. Sorry if I came on a little strong. A friend of mine once told me if it was all that's available I'd flirt with a mirror.- Pepper raises a brow at that, but he's not done. There's three ellipses then... -Crap. I didn't mean that as insulting. Just...let me know if I sometimes spread in on a little too much.-

Pepper smiles to herself. -I didn't mean to slam you. It's just...like I said, it's been a long week. I'm more tempted than usual to give in to your pleas for smut.-

There's a pause, then, -Would that really be such a bad thing? Not trying to push...just curious. Why the hang up?-

-Other than I'd probably write really bad sex?- She sighs. -We're not actually dealing with fictional characters here. Somewhere these people actually exist and almost no one actually knows what their relationship is like. It's not only somewhat creepy to write about them having sex, but also hugely arrogant to assume you have right to do whatever you want with their likenesses. If you were in their place, would you want strangers thinking of new and unusual ways for you to have sex with your friends?-

Tony supposes she's got a point, however, now she's distracted him with something else. -So you think they are friends?- The question's a little bit cautious

On the other end Pepper snorts – high and loud. -Do you think she'd have stayed working for him all these years if they weren't? Don't even get me started on all the sordid rumors that probably get formed around the two of them. Half the world probably thinks she's gay...and thus the ultimate chase because she's impossible and he just can't admit that. Or that she's got some kind of blackmail or collar and leash hooked into him.-

Tony doesn't even know where to begin to answer any of that. Finally he settles for, -What if he chases her, not because she's impossible and thus the ultimate quarry, but because he suspects that somewhere deep down, she is very possible?- He pauses, then adds. -Who else really actually gets into his real life?-

Pepper nods to herself. -And apparently accepts it enough to stay even when he added the mess that had to come with him announcing publicly he was Ironman. That's why this pairing works to write. On a logical level it makes sense.-

"One a real level too..." Tony mutters aloud. "Mind explaining to me why in hell we're not dating?"

-But to further answer your original question...I guess the Pepper in my head isn't ready to get closer the sex question than a few hot, private, daydreams. And I can only write what I think she feels.-

-Understood.- Tony types back, this time a little somberly. -Didn't mean to be an ass. I do take your point.-

-No worries. Go get your soup and eat it before it gets cold.-

-Yes, Ma'am.-

Tony carefully pushes himself out of his chair – the sofa had been tempting, but ultimately too painful to get out of still – and limps carefully into the kitchen, favoring his right side and the cracked ribs.

'Well, this is a fine kettle of fish,' he tells himself as he pokes around in a cabinet. Somewhere he's got soup mugs; he'd rather sip at his soup than try to type and use a spoon. 'Pepper has private daydreams about me.' Hot ones – that she has no intention of turning into a reality. Even as strange a reality as a website. At least, not yet. She felt pursued, but not because she had an intrinsic worth outside of the novelty of her resistance. And she counted him as a friend, so she wasn't even going to hold him against him.

He's no further into trying to figure out if he should fess up to his deception or let it play out longer and let her figure it out on her own than he'd been earlier in the day.

Tony transfers his soup into a mug and tears a hunk off a baguette in a way that will make Pepper roll her eyes tomorrow, and makes his slow way back to his computer.

-So,- he types as he waits for his soup to cool down a little. -The question I guess, is does Potts want to be chased? What happens if he stops chasing her? Does she take it as a sign that he's lost interest, or does it become a sign that he's respecting what he thinks are her wishes?-

Pepper shrugs. -I suppose it depends on how you define 'stops chasing.' His whole life has completely changed in the last few months...and by extension, hers as well. I doubt she has a clue what to make of his behavior if it has shifted recently. If his manner changes again she'd probably assume it's the next step in the process.-

-Process? There's a process now?-

-Of grief. You have to remember the man was held hostage three months. There has to be a certain amount of natural blow-back from that-

-Wait. You think he's making changes in his life because he's grieving?- Tony stares uncomprehendingly at the screen. Out of all the reasons why Pepper would hold herself back from something she can clearly envision, consideration for his feelings hadn't even crossed his mind.

-Well, I don't know what he thinks. I mean, the man built a suit of armor. Don't you think that's indicative of wanting to keep from being hurt?-

Tony raises an eyebrow. -God, you see everything as metaphor! When is a cigar just a cigar?-

-When it's not smoked in the middle of a radical lifestyle and career change? I mean, he's already gone the fast cars and loose women route, so if this is a midlife crisis or something…-

Tony opens his mouth and closes it. -God, is this how deeply all women think?-

Pepper snorts, -What? You're saying you wouldn't be a little unnerved by a total change of behavior in one of your friends? Especially if it happened after a potentially traumatic situation? I mean honestly, Turbo, how many changes can anyone make healthily all at once?-

Pepper waits for a response and doesn't get one. So she slowly adds, -From times he's been in the news since then, she's the only one ever mentioned as being with him. I get the feeling he can't afford to lose her support, and she has to be smart enough to know that. Sometimes getting what you want means waiting for the right time. Sometimes it's the path the pursuit takes that's more important than being chased.-

Time to break out the ice cream before she breaks out in something else at the memory of just how badly Tony's delivery and timing of his "superhero's girlfriend" speech sucked. The only way he could have made it worse way by telling her beforehand that he was going to announce his supposedly secret identity to the entire world on live television.

-You know, sometimes I'm beginning to think that there's no one stupider in the world than a genius,- Turbo finally types back.

Pepper frowns. -That's unnecessarily harsh. Life has to have some kind of balance. I mean to have someone who was good at everything – now that'd be really annoying.- The admonishment is marked by a winking smiley face.

Tony chuckles. -I guess so. And I guess he can be excused, if everything you say is right. I mean, no one's written the book 'How to Recognize Your Soul Mate in 12 Easy Steps.' Then he'd be without excuse.-

A pause... -Actually they sell that title on .-

Tony goggles.

Then. -LOL! I so totally had you.-

-Did not.- Tony can't help but roll his eyes at his own quick rebuttal.

-Whatever, Turboman. So tell me, if I'm a woman and making all of this far more complicated than it has to be, then what's the simple MALE answer? Why the midlife crisis scenario: the suit that stands in for the fast cars and the assistant that stands in for the cheap women? I mean, I guess the whole powersuit thing is really just a surface change. An adrenaline junkie is an adrenaline junkie, after all. And if you just glance at some of his about faces in behavior, they even appear healthy. But that's all that's ever seen of anyone, I suppose: what's on the surface. There's got to be a toll to these changes though, even if it's just physical – and I very much I doubt we're only talking about a PHYSICAL toll here – and if anyone is going to see it, she is. I suppose in my head, that's where Pepper draws the line.-

It's a bewildering amount of words, only loosely configured into an order that makes sense. Tony shakes his head. Pepper's worried…but for the life of him, he can't exactly figure out why. Or for what. -Was there a question in there?-

-Yes. No. I don't know.- Pepper sighs and tries to make herself a little more coherent. It's hard though, because Tony's always had a knack for making her completely incoherent. -Men see a problem and they fix it, right? They fix the symptom of whatever's wrong and if there's time, they try to figure out what caused the problem.-

-For the most part, yeah. I take it you think that's a bad thing? I've heard more than once that for women it's more about empathy...- Tony feels a bit like he's stumbling in the dark, but he's determined to keep trying.

This stuff...this topic…obviously matters to Pepper. The fact it does is clearly evidenced not only in the fact that she brought it up, but the fact that she's rambling. She just doesn't DO that unless she's emotionally off kilter.

-Yeah.- Pepper sighs to herself. She doesn't know how much she can say without sounding like a crazy person. -This is all theoretical, of course.-

"Of course." Tony mutters sardonically... -So if Potts is worried about why he's done what he's done have you ever considered letting her actually ask him? What he thinks about any of the things he's done I mean. Unless you're going to suddenly go AU on me, it's not like either of them is capable of reading the others' mind.-

Pepper smiles, a little sadly. Tony knows exactly what to say to get her to go along with whatever plan he's concocted. He always has. -He's a public figure. He must be used to saying what people want to hear.-

-You're assuming he knows what that is. Which I tend to think may be doubtful in this case, given what I've seen of his personal history. Kids who start college at twelve aren't likely to have the most traditional relationship history.-

-I guess that's true.- Pepper makes a face at herself. It's way past time to rein the conversation in. -I put a lot of thought into things that have nothing to do with me, don't I?-

Tony grits his teeth as he stares at the computer screen. So close! But she's going to back away from it, even here. Back away from the core of what's really bothering her because while Turbo has her trust in one way, he's also Stark deficient and so is automatically blacklisted from hearing the full truth. It's frustrating as hell and heartening at the same time. At least she's not saying anything about him behind his back that she won't say to his face.

'I guess it's time to lighten the mood again.' -You're interested in people and relationships...it's an innocent enough fixation.- Tony grins before adding, - Either way, its more dignified than tentacle sex.-

Pepper loved that any time things got tense or too heavy, Turbo brought up tentacle sex. It was ridiculous in the extreme and always lightened the mood.

-I guess this leaves me no choice. I'm going to have to run up to Tony Stark, shake him by the lapels, and demand to know what he's thinking.-

Tony snorts at that image, though part of him wishes she would. That at least would be progress. -What if he's not wearing a shirt at the time? Are you gonna resort to chest hair?-

-Ears.-

Tony winces. "Ouch." -Sad. Not nearly as kinky.-

-If I'm not going to write smut, then I'm certainly not going to enact it.-

"I hope that's a lie," Tony mutters to himself. He doesn't think he's up to that kind of challenge, especially at the moment. -You'd brighten up his whole week.-

-I'm sure.-

He can imagine the dry tone Pepper's voice would take on…if they were having a real, face to face kind of conversation instead of a digital proxy. -I mean it. The man's personal life lately is looking pretty damn lonely. Being attacked by a demented fan girl would probably be a nice ego rub.-

-Believe it or not, I have other goals in life than to be any man's arm candy.-

-I doubt you could MANAGE being just that…which I mean as a compliment by the way. As for Stark, life is always a lot easier for a guy when we can do most of our thinking with just our dicks.-

Pepper, caught in the midst of taking a sip of water, actually snorts her drink out her nose.

-I can't believe you just SAID that!-

-It's true,- Tony insists. -You have to admit that in this day and age, the whole enlightened male shtick is a lot of work. Most guys are already bumbling in the dark when it comes to offering comfort to our better halves. Add in all the trigger happy women around, ready to slap a man with a sexual harassment lawsuit, and there's not a lot of room left for misunderstandings. Even if Stark wanted to make a move on Potts, he's probably just as scared as she is of upsetting the balance. -

-What's the matter, Mr. Caveman? Getting homesick for your cave?-

-That's a no.- Tony shakes his head. -But I'm giving up on the myth that a man's home is his castle.-

-Aww Sad. :-P So What is it then?-

-Right now? Kinda empty, to tell the truth.- No clacking heels, no slightly off-key humming, no quiet murmur of Pepper on the phone.

-I hear you there.- She really would have preferred to stay another night or two at Tony's.

-Look no offense but I need to go kind of early tonight. I haven't gotten much sleep for the past couple of days.-

-Sweet dreams. Hopefully I'll talk to you again soon.-

Tony waits till she signs out then carefully stands to go find his own bed. He was right about one thing for sure – the house with Pepper gone isn't the same. It's less comforting and far, far too quiet.

"Jarvis, pull up any stories Pepper put online in the last couple of days. Transfer to my tablet." Tony carefully undresses and climbs into bed. There's two bottles of water and a bottle of Ibuprofen on his nightstand.

"Affirmative, Sir."

He groans loudly as he reaches for the painkillers, relieved that he finally can now that Pepper's left. Doing so with her around brought her running, concern and what he thought might be the remnants of anger in her big blue eyes. Normally that wasn't a problem; he'd joke with her, or shamelessly submit to her hovering presence because sometimes it was nice to be mothered, or if he was in a bad mood he might even remind her that he'd been blown up multiple times and that allowed him the right to bitch and moan in his own bedroom if that's what he wanted to do.

But what wasn't normally a problem had become so quickly the first time he'd almost made a comment that she would have understood once she got past the initial confusion of his knowing about something that she'd told Turbo and not Tony.

There's a single link on his screen once he relaxes back into the pillows enough to focus on something other than his aching ribs. He's a little surprised. He'd been gone long enough to allow her to post more than one story. However, he also knows a little about how Pepper writes now. She goes on "writing jags" as she'd put it, pouring out pages and pages of material in a matter of hours. And then she spends several days to several weeks polishing them, perhaps splitting them into multiple stories. A reasonable conclusion to reach, therefore, was that she usually had a backlog of stories that were ready to be posted online. Except, now she was talking to Turbo most evenings instead of focusing on her stories. Maybe her backlog was getting scarce, and rather than run out of material completely, she was pacing herself as she worked on other stuff.

Or maybe talking to Turbo was starting to take over whatever cathartic release the stories had provided. Was it arrogant of him to assume that? Not that it mattered; he was going to keep reading whatever it was she had to say, whether she said it to him (him-as-Turbo) or to the online populace in general.

He clicks on the link, allowing his eyes to adjust to the font on the page.

"No meetings?"

He's far too suspicious for a man who sets his own schedule. I only keep track and make sense of the damn thing so he's never double booked. "No meetings. No projects due and your fridge, freezer and pantry are full. Pizza is on speed dial 2."

He still looks suspicious. "Because...?"

"I want to be able to get though my next four days at the spa unmolested."

He relaxes instantly, changing from a suspicious man to one far too amused to bode well for anyone. "Well, that doesn't sound like fun."

"Unmolested by YOU."

"That DEFINITELY doesn't sound like fun. Are you sure this is a vacation?"

"For the record after the last four months, three days of sleeping in sounds heavenly, thank you. I have no schedule and three new books."

"Romance novels?" he asks hopefully.

"Mr. Stark, after this last week, sex is the last thing on my mind," I say pointedly, with a hard and highly meaningful look. Not that it makes any sort of impact at all. "I opted for a historical novel, a comedy, and a vampire mystery instead. They'll do just fine after my daily massage."

"Vampires, kinky."

*sshhhhhttt*

I have the sudden image of two fencers stuck in my head. Innocent words become the foil in his hand, but the form is perfect and the intent clear no matter how blunted the instrument. Somehow this just became more than idle flirting, and I really don't know how to parry his sudden attack other than to play along. Sometimes beating him at his own game is the only way to get him to stop.

"You have your vices. I'm allowed to have mine."

He's intrigued of course, by the mention that I might have any vices besides a penchant for collecting overtime. "Have you ever thought that our vices might get along well, Pepper?"

The conversational foils slide along each other again, undeterred by my attempt at a subtle defense. I can feel the slight rasp in my throat as my mouth goes a little dry. There's a little something MORE in his question than there normally is. Not more…lascivious. Just more…intent. As if the answer matters and is going to set him off on a new course of action, and I'm actually intimidated by what that course of action might be.

Forget playing along. It's too dangerous when he's in this mood. And he's in it more and more often now. Time away from each other can only do us good. It's strange to contemplate taking more time off so soon, but my birthday is next month and it's on a Thursday. Maybe I'll make a four day weekend of it.

"Pepper?" There's not a hint of awkwardness in that voice. Just awareness that I'm off my stride and that damn intent that overrides the wry twist to his lips.

If he won't give up, then I'll be the one to raise my mask and end the match.

"Daily, Mr. Stark. That's why I keep denying our forbidden love. Will that be all?"

I keep calm as he studies me. He might be in the mood to play, but this is one game I will NOT engage in. And he can see it. Thankfully he lets me have my way…without pouting. "That will be all. Try to do at least one thing I would while you're gone."

"Leggy blonds aren't my thing, Mr. Stark.'

"I'm glad. You need a brunette at your side to make your coloring pop." He waves his hand at me in dismissal after making that last riposte…a dismissal I accept all too gladly.

I need to leave before the observation that he's a brunette means something.