Simultaneously thrilled and terrified to announce my first multi-chap Pepperony fic. Let me know what you think!

The request for an interview comes across her desk one morning with a dozen or so others, and it catches her eye because the writer in question promises that she isn't out to paint Tony as a warmonger or an attention whore; rather, she wants to write a piece that will acquaint people with Tony's vulnerable side, make him more human as opposed to machine. Pepper is intrigued, so she contacts the writer and sets up an interview.

In the ten years that she has worked for Stark Industries, dozens of articles have been written about the company, its purpose, its owner, and his notorious reputation. Pepper has developed a thick skin about it, getting used to the alliterative insults reporters create for Tony, managing to take the wild accusations about his private life with a grain of salt; once she was his personal assistant she knew what was true and what wasn't, and that was all that mattered.

But with Tony's admittance of his superhero identity, the number of people who want a piece of him skyrocketed overnight. Pepper's Blackberry, usually buzzing occasionally at her side, is now ringing off the hook, so much so that she's gotten two new numbers to avoid unwanted calls since that fateful press conference three months prior.

"Who is this again?" Tony asks that morning as Pepper briefs him on his daily schedule, coffee in hand for the both of them.

Pepper rattles off the woman's position at the publication she works for, her credentials, even shows him the copy of her resume she'd found online, to which Tony waves his hand dismissively.

"She wants to humanize you, so please be on your best human behavior," Pepper cautions.

"As opposed to my best robot behavior," Tony says, taking a sip of his coffee out of the white ceramic mug emblazoned with the SI logo. "I can assure you I'll give a stellar performance, but I can't make any promises about Dummy."

"Ha, ha." Pepper rolls her eyes.

"This is yours," Tony says, making a face at his coffee cup. "There's lipstick on this one."

"What? Are you sure? I—"

Pepper feels herself blush a deep shade of crimson as Tony holds the cup out for her to see. Sure enough, there is a smudge of her pearl pink lipstick on the rim of the mug, so faint that she wouldn't have noticed if she wasn't looking closely. Tony looked closely. He is looking closely now, but not at the mug, at her. At her lips. At her lips that are close to his—when had she moved so close to him? She smells his aftershave.

"Miss Potts, our visitor has arrived," JARVIS intones brightly.

"Right."

Pepper makes a quick exit and forgets the coffee mix-up until some weeks later, when the article hits print.

She awakes the morning it is printed to no less than fifty-seven emails, twenty-four text messages, and one very well-meaning voicemail from her mother who wants to know why hadn't her daughter told her she was dating a billionaire?

It is the voicemail that sends her leaping from the bed and scuttling to her computer, desperate to see what ridiculous things they are saying about Tony now and what it means for her in terms of damage control. She is astounded to find that the article is less about Tony than it is about… her. She sinks further and further into the ergonomic swivel chair in her home office as she reads each word, and by the time she is finished, she can feel herself sweating through the t-shirt she slept in.

Fingers shaking, she reaches for her phone and dials Tony.

Tony Stark rarely sleeps past six-thirty AM. Some of this is due to the time he spent in captivity; the harsh work lights of the Afghan cave made rest difficult, especially when he didn't know if he'd wake up again if he closed his eyes. But most of it is due to the incredible discipline of his mind.

As someone who'd been pegged as a social cavalier, Tony prides himself on the control he has over his own mind. Once started on a task, he is extremely focused and refuses to stop until he sees it through to completion. Excess time spent in bed takes away from precious hours he could be using to solve the next problem, figure out the next step.

But when his personal cell phone buzzes on his bedside table at 5:53 AM, his only thought is, this had better be good.

"Stark," he grumbles.

The voice of his best friend comes through crackly and garbled, like he is driving through a tunnel. "Hey man, you seen the interview that came out about you this morning?"

"Do I sound like I've seen the interview that came out about me this morning?"

"Come on, man, it's almost nine here in New York. The day's practically half over."

"I can't wait until you're back on west coast time because these early morning phone calls, endearing as they are, have got to stop."

"Just read the article, Tony," Rhodes says, and his tone of voice makes Tony obey once he hangs up the phone.

"JARVIS," Tony calls from his perch on the bed, "pull up the article from that piece I was interviewed for last month."

"Right away, sir," the automated intelligence responds.

The window wall darkens and fills with the magazine's website, pulled up to the article in question. The corners of Tony's mouth quirk up in a smile as he reads the title. His brow knits in contemplation as he finishes the first several paragraphs. He lets out a hearty laugh at the speculation at the end.

"Jarv, has Potts seen this?"

"Miss Potts is currently out of my range, sir, as she is in her own home. Would you like me to contact her?"

"Please do."

Pepper yelps as her phone buzzes in her hand, a millisecond away from pressing "call."

"I was calling you," she answers, not sure why she makes it sound like an accusation.

"Maybe it's true what they're saying in the papers," Tony drawls. "You do know me better than anyone else."

Pepper wants to crawl back under the covers and never leave. She should have known that Tony would take perverse pleasure in the insinuations of the article.

"Don't be ridiculous," she snaps. "I'll send an email to the editor of the magazine and get it taken down."

"It's in print, Potts," Tony counters. "What are you going to do, call every grocery store and magazine stand in the country and ask them to take it off the shelves? Even then, what about the people who've already bought it? Big brother isn't really my style, but I suppose we could track them down—"

"Stop it!" she hisses, rubbing her temples. "I get it, there's nothing we can do about the print copies. But I could at least talk to whoever manages the magazine's webpage."

"Isn't that PR's job?"

"No, it's my job. The article is about you, and it's my stupid job to make sure you look good in the public eye."

"Ah, there it is," Tony says. She can hear him smiling over the phone. "That 'sexy savoir-faire in sleek Saint Laurent.'"

"Don't quote it!" Pepper groans.

"Oh, come on, that's not even the best part. My favorite was 'One can only imagine what Potts is like off the clock. The consummate professional has her pick of elegant couches to recline on while her employer provides what is sure to be a generous quarterly bonus.'"

Pepper chokes on a sob, mostly out of the purest embarrassment she's ever felt in her entire life, and a little bit because the image of her sprawled across the sofa with Tony's head between her thighs is almost too beautiful to bear.

"At least they got that part right," Tony says. "I am a very generous lover, Potts."

"I want to die," she whimpers, and it's true. She's never been more embarrassed or ashamed or red-faced than she is right now, curled up in a ball in her desk chair.

Tony is quiet for a moment. She can feel him on the other end of the phone, thinking of what to say, which, for him, means a lot. The moments that Tony Stark picks and chooses his words carefully are few and far between. That small gesture is enough to make Pepper calm; she takes a deep breath.

"I'll be over by eight and we'll figure something out," she says.

"I'll send Happy," he offers.

"I don't want to draw attention."

"Driving your personal car to my house on a Saturday morning will draw attention. He'll be there in half an hour."

"I haven't even taken a shower," she stammers, momentarily stunned by Tony's extremely logical train of thought.

"I'm sure you still look gorgeous," he says, and for once she is not angry with him. "Half an hour."

After she hangs up she sits there for a moment in shock. Not only is Tony willing to help clean up the nightmare that is the article, but he is the one making plans, offering suggestions, thinking things through. She's glad one of them is. Because as she steps into the shower, it is hard to keep that image from the article out of her head.