Inspired by a picture by ~Kiyda on DeviantArt. Quick one-shot :) Please review.

It always starts the same way, he's at a party and so is she; their eyes meet across a crowded room and before they know it they're drifting towards each other.

They gently touch each other's hands and he leads her for a dance around the floor, soft and gentle, slow and sweet, they dance with the familiarity and easiness as if they've been doing it their whole lives. The room around them is blocked out, the bright lights and expensive dresses and the chatter of the guests disappear, it's only her, bright and beautiful in her silver dress, red hair loose around her shoulders, smelling of flowers and warm in his arms.

They go up to the balcony so get some air and he gets her a drink, Vodka Martini, very dry, extra olives. They chat for a few minutes about work, obnoxious businessmen, even the weather, then the conversation takes a turn and before they know it their lips are pressed together and he has one hand on her hip and the other in her hair.

She tastes like cherry and lipstick and heat, and something uniquely her. She kisses like he's always imagined she would, ferocious yet gentle at the same time, firm but soft, and for a few minutes? seconds? hours? it's just him and her alone in their own little bubble. They break apart some time later and the sounds from the party and the traffic below leaks into the atmosphere.

'We should get out of here,' she whispers into his ear, still pressed up against his body and he shudders at the feel of her fingers playing with a few stray strands of his hair.

'Agreed,' he responds, one hand drifting lazily up and down her spine.

Back at his house, they can't get out of their clothes fast enough, her dress is surrendered to the floor and his tie finds itself looped around a lamp as the stumble up the stairs, pausing to kiss heatedly, all touch and heat and warmth. This isn't just ten years of sexual tension going down the drain; this is something rawer and more passionate. This is love and adoration.

He drops her naked onto his bed and climbs on top of her, and there's stroking and kissing and moaning. They make love slowly and gently when they're done they lie sated and contented in each other's arms. Pepper rolls towards him and kisses him and Tony pulls the sheets over them and they cuddle and gradually begin to fall asleep.

When he wakes up the next morning and rolls towards the person sleeping quietly next to him the night comes back in a fuzzy alcohol-fueled daze and he can feel the beginning of a hangover creeping in at the corner of his eyes.

The woman next to him is blond and curvaceous and definitely not Pepper.

Dammit.