Disclaimer: No.

Blame This Whole Thing On: Robert Downey Jr. He did such a great job with Tony Stark that I kind of got obsessed with Iron Man and felt the need to add something to the pile. To be fair, I also blame Gwyneth Paltrow and Terrence Howard, who rock just as hard as RDJ and brought Pepper and Rhodey to life. Kisses, peeps. Keep up the good work.

Rating: T, for cursing and violence.

Spoilers: The movie.

Hello: to the Iron Man fandom. Tell me there's chips and guac, 'cause I brought the Bohemia. Let's party!

Note: The screwball/comic book-ish elements of this piece are nods respectively to the 2005 film Kiss Kiss Bang Bang (hilarious) and the Pulitzer-prize winning novel The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay (a must-read). Also, for those of you unfamiliar with the phrase, calling someone "a machine" means that you have met a person of uncommon determination, efficiency, and endurance.

SHE'S A MACHINE

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Chapter One: Eyes of Blue

Tony Stark was at a loss. Not only was he at a loss, he was at a loss with a song at least twice his age stuck in his head, a result of allowing Jarvis to pick his work music for a few hours yesterday (never to be repeated). This mostly explained why he was wandering around his Malibu mansion at 9 AM on a Tuesday in torn jeans and a black wife-beater, grease on his elbows and cheeks, singing the opening refrain of an old Ray Henderson tune and calling for his personal assistant.

"Five foot two, eyes of blue, but oh, what those five feet could do, has anybody seen my girl?" Tony sang softly and tunefully, rubatos and glides and all. "Pepper?" he called.

No answer. He kept walking, checking a closet, peeking down a hall, circling the living room, whistling the second verse because he had forgotten the words, and then kind of improvising the instrumental break. But the bridge he remembered.

"So if you run into, a five-foot-two, covered in furs," he sang, "Diamond rings, and all those things … Miss Potts?"

Nothing. His call echoed in the empty house. Undeterred, he searched on.

"… Bet your life it isn't her … but … could she love, could she woo, could she, could she, could she coo, has anybody seen my girl?"

He was standing in the kitchen by the time he finished the tune, fists on his hips, disgusted. "God damn it. Jarvis, where's Pepper?"

"As I was trying to tell you before you left on your wild goose chase, Mr. Stark," the AI answered crisply, "Infrared Scan shows she is not on the premises."

Tony tried to think. She'd left last night around seven and hadn't said anything about not showing up this morning. The little hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

"Call her cell phone."

Jarvis did as requested and a speaker next to the fridge began to ring. Tony hopped up on the center island. He listened and scratched an itch just behind his left ear.

The phone rang. And rang.

And rang.

And Tony's imagination, unfortunately as powerful as the rest of his brain, burst the dam and flooded the town. By ring five with no answer he was completely submerged in the dime-novel contrivance he kept in the back of his head. It went like this: Pepper's phone would be picked up (eventually) by some hateful stranger with raspy breathing who would taunt Tony with Pepper's capture and imprisonment, forcing him to don the Iron Man suit and save his lovely assistant, who he would find tied to the steeple of a skyscraper, screaming her head off for him to rescue her.

It was really stupid. He knew this of course, and he had never voiced this particular fantasy for that very reason. Pepper would murder him if she heard herself cast in the role of the helpless female, Rhodey would laugh him off the planet, and all it meant anyway was that he had read way too many comic books.

He was still unduly relieved when he heard the click of someone picking up.

"Pepper?" he asked preemptively.

"Unnh?" came Pepper's voice, scratchy and throaty on the other end.

Just the sound of her made something loosen inside him and his shoulders, which he didn't even realize he'd been tensing, released themselves. He blew out a breath. Thank God.

"Pepper, it's uh, it's Tony. Listen, you don't sound so good. Are you sick? What's going on? Why aren't you here?" He knew immediately that he'd asked way too many questions at once – yet another annoying side-effect of being a genius – but if she could just answer one of them, then they were in business.

"Tony? Oh no," she rasped. "Time izzit?"

He checked his watch. "9:15 AM."

"Oh Tony, I'm … sorry. I'll be on to wee … oh … uh…"

Tony stared at the speaker while she gibbered maybe-words and finally just trailed off. Pepper's brain wasn't firing right this morning; it sounded like one of her cylinders was out of whack. And then he realized what was going on, and he closed his eyes in disbelief. The slow, stop-stutter cadence of her voice. The pauses. The croak.

Pepper Potts wasn't sick. She was hung over. Like, really hung over.

Having pulled this act one too many times himself, he had enough sense to realize that even though he was disappointed and angry with her for worrying him, showing that would be the wrong move. This was probably the ideal moment for him to say something sensitive, maybe even ask what was going on. He knew that. Unfortunately he was having a tough time getting beyond any phrase that didn't include the words "What the fuck is the matter with you?" so in the end, there was very little to say. He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.

"Okay Pepper, you know what? Just sleep it off. Come in tomorrow and we'll talk. Jarvis, disconnect."

The line went dead and the speaker hushed. Tony sat there on the island for a moment and gently swung his legs, bouncing his heels off a drawer. He sighed. For the life of him, he couldn't understand why Pepper had gone drinking A) without him and B) on a Monday night. It was wholly unprofessional, and beyond that, it was so not her. It made no sense.

His eyes drifted to the right. Two pages of the calendar magnetized to the sleek silver refrigerator rustled gently from the air conditioner, which Jarvis had just turned on. He narrowed his eyes and hopped off the island, padding over so he could survey the month up close. He tapped yesterday with one grease-stained finger, over and over. Something about that date was tickling at him, and for a long moment he just couldn't make the connection … when suddenly it clicked.

He dropped his arm. "Oh, no. Oh, shit," he spat out. "I forgot her birthday." Pause. Wince. "Again."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Somehow he survived without her for a whole day. Well, technically it was only 12 hours, and yes, he missed a really important meeting with some Japanese development company because he couldn't get to his PDA in time for it to remind him, and he went tie-less to a luncheon with some mucky-muck from the Air Force because he couldn't remember where his ties even were in his enormous closet, and he got caught with his pants down by a Congressman from Mississippi who was really angry about some dust-up at a factory of his in Jackson that he hadn't even heard about, but nevertheless, he noted he was still alive at the end of it and gave himself a pat on the back.

That didn't mean he was eager to try it again, though. The next morning when Pepper padded quietly into his basement lab, prim and proper in her tailored brown suit and matching heels, bearing his morning espresso, the newspaper and a thick manila folder, the first thing out of his mouth was …

"Oh, thank God. I seriously do not ever want to repeat yesterday, Potts. Understand?"

It came out a little more caustic than he would have liked, but she just nodded. "Yes, sir. Thanks for letting me take the day yesterday, Mr. Stark. I promise nothing like that will ever happen again. One time thing. You're clear today until noon, by the way." Her words were quiet and soft, completely controlled, and she gave him that pleasant little Mona Lisa smile. Then she set his coffee down, put the newspaper down next to the coffee … and walked away, like the past 24 hours hadn't happened.

Tony was stunned. Fortunately he shook it off and found his voice before she reached the stairs. "Oh, hell no. No way. Pepper, you stop right there."

He had a good command voice. Pepper stopped with her back to him. He came up behind her and put and hand on her elbow. She stiffened. He rolled his eyes.

"I want to talk to you."

She didn't move.

"It would help if you turned around."

From his rear view, he could see her shoulders lift and fall as she took a calming breath. He could almost imagine her features settling into their usual professional mask as she tried to steady herself. Something was seriously wrong here, his brain screamed at him, and he was going to get to the bottom of it. When she turned around, his imagination had proven him right. There wasn't an ounce of expression on her pretty face.

"Yes, Mr. Stark? What is it you wished to discuss?"

Her tone was way too even; Tony wasn't buying this for a second. He crossed his arms and looked up at her slightly, which annoyed him further. As much as he wished Pepper was a dainty, willowy little thing, she was actually a dainty, willowy tall thing. In stocking feet he only had an inch on her and in heels, forget it.

"Take off your shoes," he ordered.

That caught Pepper off guard. She let her mask slip and quirked an eyebrow. "What?"

"You heard me. Give those things a break." He snapped his fingers. "Come on, right now."

Pepper grumbled and protested but obeyed, doing her flamingo impression while she tried to get her heels off. Tony gave her his arm to steady her, and eventually she was standing in her stockings on the cold cement floor and they were eye to eye.

"That's better," he said. "Now talk to me."

"About what?" she stubbornly asked.

"Don't even," he said sharply. When Pepper crossed her arms and looked away, he softened. "Oh, come on, Pep. What's going on? You left me high and dry yesterday. I think I deserve an explanation."

It seemed that honestly minus melodrama plus brevity equaled results. Pepper looked horribly uncomfortable, but in the end she answered him. "I only meant to have one drink. I'm sorry, Mr. Stark, I –"

"Call me Mr. Stark one more time today and I'll fire you."

She met his eyes and pressed on. "Tony. Look, I know you don't remember, because I've done my utmost not to remind you, but the day you were captured last year … was my birthday. And yesterday I was just messed up inside, and I figured you wouldn't notice, and…" She shut her mouth and looked down, and her jaw ticked.

There was a long silence as Tony worked his way through that.

"First of all, when it comes to you, I definitely … try … to notice." They exchanged a look – his apologetic, hers wry – and he went on. "And I'm sorry you were upset yesterday. I should have done something, or at least said 'Happy Birthday.' I blew it, and – look, just please tell me you didn't get wasted alone at some dive."

Pepper looked up at him. "All right, I didn't get wasted alone at some dive," she said flatly.

Tony stared at her. "Are you kidding me? Has being around me taught you nothing? First of all, if you're going to get bombed in public, always have a wingman. Always. And second … well, I can't think of anything else right now. How the hell did you get home, anyway?"

"I walked," she said miserably. "Alone. It took me an hour."

Tony rubbed his hair back and shook his head. "Oh, man. Look, Pepper, you can't do stupid things like this. I'm sorry, but you just can't. Doing stupid things is my job." Pepper looked down at the floor and bit her lip. Tony wandered over to his desk as he continued. "Your job is to hold me together," he went on, straightening some papers. "If you fuck up too, then our whole system falls apart. Capiche? … Pepper?"

She didn't answer him. When he looked over at her again, her ropey ballerina shoulders were knots of tension and she was desperately pressing a hand under her nose and looking up at the ceiling, her big blue eyes glassy with tears. She sniffed and tried to wipe them surreptitiously, but with Tony staring at her like a problematic circuit board, even he couldn't miss it.

"Damn it," she said in a choked voice, and turned away with a gasp that exploded into a shudder.

And he was frozen for a second. Pepper was crying. This was really bad. He did the only thing that made sense – walked right up to her and took her in his arms, figuring she'd either find this comforting or snap out of her funk and smack him. Fortunately she picked the first one, wrapping her arms right back around him.

"Hey, hey," he mumbled. "It's all right."

She breathed wetly into his shoulder. "God, this is embarrassing. I'm sorry, Tony. It's just, you went away, and you were gone for months, and then you came back, which was some kind of miracle, and now you have that suit, and then you built one for Jim, and … it scares me."

"You're afraid of the suit?" he asked. "Why?"

"Because it ends up with bullet holes," she said simply. "And missile burns."

Tony frowned. He felt an inexplicable need to defend his work. "Hey, I fixed those problems. Mostly. It's okay now."

"Yeah, well, it still creeps me out a little," she argued. "And I know you fly off into war zones voluntarily, and I know why, and I can't make you stop, and I'm not asking you to, but … I don't know."

They stayed in the embrace until their fronts felt warm and Pepper's tears on his shoulder dried into a salty spot.

"Hmm," he said at last. Then he released her. "Feel better?"

She wiped one eye. "Yes, actually."

"Okay, then," he said quietly.

And that was it. He stepped back and nodded, she stepped back and nodded, and the unspoken agreement to never mention this again was agreed on.

Neither of them had ever been good at putting a proper cap on things like this, so Pepper just left. She picked up her shoes on the way out and jogged up the stairs so she could repair her make-up in the guest bathroom on the first floor. And Tony stayed, flopping down in his plush desk chair and mulling over her statements, particularly the one about being afraid of the suit.

"Well, we're all basically afraid of the unknown," he mused to himself as he glanced thoughtfully at the 3D hologram work area, empty at the moment. And then his eyes narrowed. "But if we get some working knowledge on our side… Hmm." Pepper's admission had just given him a brilliant idea. "Jarvis, bring up image file 38789 in the cube. I want to start a new project."