Author's Note: HUGE thank you to the delightful and talented robot iconography for BETA-ing this chapter for me. Thank you, dear friend!

"I think you're winning the staring contest."

Pepper blinks and looks away from her cooling mug of coffee and over to Tony. Hair damp, face flushed from the heat of his shower, Tony looks almost normal.

He's got a suit-jacket flung over his shoulder, his tie undone, and he's grinning at her. Pepper has seen this enough to know he's posing but trying very hard not to seem like he is. She wants to toss out a light-hearted "Hey there, GQ" but she doesn't.

Instead: "You're dressed."

"Well spotted. Now come on, help me with this tie." Tony reaches up for the dark green tie hanging around his neck and pulls it off in one dramatic sweep of his hand. He strides over to her, dangling the tie in front of her face like some kind of prize.

She takes it from him by force of habit. For the first few months she'd worked for him, Tony had convinced her he'd never learned to tie a tie. ("I went to prep school when I was like, eleven, Pepper: I wore clip-ons" and "My father promised to teach me the Stark knot when I turned 21 and he never got the chance... Please, Pepper?").

Then one night at a gala for some foundation or another, she'd walked into the ladies' room to find him whipping up a perfect Pratt (though the tie itself had been marred by some very unflattering lipstick). She had typed up her resignation the moment she'd arrived at home. She'd built up quite a collection of those letters in the early days.

But now she's known him ten years, and he asks her to tie his tie because she does a perfect Full Windsor and because it's an opportunity for him to invade her personal space with no repercussions. And an opportunity for her to let him.

Tony steps closer to her, eyebrows raised, and Pepper studiously ignores him and she straightens out the strip of silk he'd handed her.

They had kissed the night before. They'd kissed on the roof and in the parlor but now in the bright light of day, the kisses seem very far away.

Pepper chances a quick glance and finds him watching her, his brow furrowed and his gaze intense, and even though she has occasionally been the recipient of that look, he has never been so overt, so obvious. She swallows. "Tony."

"You don't have to tie it, you're not my assistant," says Tony abruptly. "You're the CEO. I mean, you can if you want-but you don't have to. It's not your job."

It's Pepper's turn to stare. "What?"

He shrugs. "You know, the tie. I'm not going to ask you to go grab my dry cleaning either, I mean, not that I have any here, all I have is the suit upstairs-"

Pepper presses a hand to his chest, right beside the reactor that's glowing faintly through the pale green dress shirt. "Tony," she repeats. She can feel the warmth of him and the new reactor (had he really called it Pepperidium?).

He stops talking, looks down at her hand, then back to her face. "Yeah?"

"First of all, I told you that I'm resigning." Pepper is sure about this; as much as she wants to run the company, as much as she appreciates the gesture in her nearly twelve hours of hindsight, only Tony can ever be the CEO of Stark Industries.

Tony bites his lip, tilts his head back. "Okay," he begins, dragging out the word, "See, no. I just don't think so-"

"Second of all," Pepper interrupts, now reaching around his neck to lay the tie flat and pull the ends to the right lengths, "I wouldn't go get your imaginary dry cleaning even if you asked me to."

"Right. Because you're not my assistant, you're the boss. That's my point."

"No," she says firmly, in the tone she uses for serious things. Like the time he'd announced: 'Pepper, I've decided. I want the Saturn V replica they've got at Kennedy Space Center. Can you have it delivered to the Malibu house?'

"Come on, why not? I already told you before, you're perfect for the job, you know everything-"

Her fingers pull and smooth and loop the silk of his tie without her really paying attention. "I'm not perfect for the job, Tony. I can be a CEO, just not CEO of Stark Industries."

He's silent, and she focuses her gaze on the tie, tries to ignore the nearness of him.

"Where'd you learn to do this, anyway?"

Pepper glances up at him. "What are you talking about? I've been working for Stark Industries for-"

"No, not that," Tony says, waving his hand dismissively. "This." He jerks his chin down towards the tie, so suddenly that his goatee hits her hand as she's looping it around for the final time.

It's not exactly a personal question. It's not, 'who was your first date?' or 'what was your favorite band growing up?', but Tony just doesn't do small talk. He doesn't ask Pepper questions, like why she likes wine or vintage art-deco advertisements or old records.

She looks up at him, and makes eye contact for a split second before dropping her gaze to the nearly complete knot. He's still, and quiet, and waiting for the answer.

She is annoyed that she's surprised by it.

She clears her throat. "Um, from my grandfather. He was a pilot in the Royal Air Force during World War II. They're only allowed to wear Double Windsors."

"I didn't know that." He sounds almost bewildered, and she's pretty sure he's not talking about the sartorial requirements of the RAF. It's as though the thought of her having her own history, her own little experiences that have shaped her, is totally foreign to him.

She wonders if she should be dismayed by that or pleased that he's had the realization that she isn't just the Earth to his Sun.

The tie is knotted. She steps back from him, smooths down the skirt of last night's dress, keeps her eyes away from him. When he grabs her wrist in his hand, it's a surprise.

"Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"You know what. The thing you're doing-you're not even looking at me, Pepper, don't think-I mean, I am noticing. I do notice some things. You said it wasn't weird."

He sounds unsure, uncomfortable, and he's doing the thing where he gets out half of a thought before moving on to the next one.

Pepper takes a deep breath. "It's not weird." Her voice lilts up on the second syllable of "weird" and she cringes.

"Is that a question?" He's almost angry now, confused.

She swallows. Meets his eyes. His gaze is forceful, intense, and she feels such a rush of warmth at the sight of him that for just a second, her doubts are eased. She wants this, she does; she is relieved and excited that the thing between them has finally been acknowledged, finally realized. But she is totally and completely terrified.

Tony can be observant when he cares enough to be. And Pepper realizes that despite his behavior of the past few months, particularly since Monaco, he is now as alert and on his game as she's ever seen him. And not because he's solving a problem in his basement or on the prowl in a club or making a laughingstock of a Senate hearing.

Because of her.

She can tell the moment he recognizes the fear in her, because his lips tighten and his eyes go dark. "Pepper-I didn't kiss you-it wasn't because I was-when I came to your office, with the strawberries-and I am sorry about that-what I was trying to say is, and I'm trying to say it now-"

She's being unfair, Pepper suddenly realizes. They've been circling, ducking, winding around one another for years. And Tony's not the only one who doesn't know how to put words to what's between them.

"I need you too."

"-Basically, Pepper, it's like-what did you say?"

It feels like peeling off a pair of socks after a long day. Pepper smiles at him, and delights when he grins back, even though she knows he's still not sure he heard her correctly.

She steps closer to him, twists her wrist out of his grip and takes his hand in hers instead. "Tony, I wasn't listening when you came to see me-I was angry and frustrated-"

"Well, yeah, I was-I was a dick," Tony interrupts her, and he looks vaguely surprised to hear himself say the words. "I am-I am sorry. I was-well-"

Dying.

"You were a dick," Pepper agrees with him, and when one eyebrow lifts she knows that he's just barely holding back a comment. "But I'm serious. I need you too."

And then he grins for real. "Well, yeah," he says, and the serious moment is broken.

Pepper laughs. He preens. It's the easiest moment they've spent together in months.

Eventually, Tony looks down to their clasped hands, and almost tentatively places his other hand on her hip. His palm is solid, warm against her hipbone, and even though they're just standing there, Pepper is suddenly and completely aware of him.

She can feel his breath on her cheek, taste the mint of his toothpaste, and when his thumb digs into the cleft between her hip and her stomach, she imagines that she can feel his pulse against her skin.

She looks up at him, and their eyes meet. It's an instant struggle not to turn away, not to break the moment. She has spent the past ten years looking away from him.

She's only just realized that she's the only one whose eyes he seeks out. Tony hates eye contact. He avoids it at all costs, because his eyes are the one part of him that his bravado doesn't reach.

He suddenly leans forward, presses his cheek against hers, lips against her ear, and-

"Good morning, Boss."

They both spin around to look at the intruder. Pepper releases his hand. Tony doesn't let go of her hip.

Happy looks uncomfortable. Natalie looks bored.

"Way to be a wingman, Hap," Tony mutters, quietly enough that the bodyguard only catches the gist. The former boxer flushes pink.

"It's nearly nine-thirty," Natalie announces calmly, as if nothing odd was going on. "DHS and FBI agents are already at Stark New York Headquarters. We're waiting on Langley and the Pentagon. FBI has shut out the NYPD and the state police. Director Fury is briefing everyone right now."

It takes a second for Pepper to realize that Natalie is definitely not just a new hire from Legal.

"SHIELD Agent Natasha Romanov, Ms. Potts," Natalie says as though she'd read Pepper's mind. "I've been assigned to Mr. Stark for some time now."

Pepper definitely does not have the time to deal with that. She files it away for later. "When are we expected at the office?"

"Ten o'clock, Ms. Potts."

"And my spare clothes at my New York office?"

"Dry-cleaned and in the foyer."

"Any word from New York Hospital Center or Elmhurst? Or any of the others?"

Hesitation flits across Natalie's face for a split second, and it disappears so quickly that Pepper doubts she had seen it at all. "Four dead, three hundred and twelve injuries at last tally."

Tony's hand slides heavily from her hip. Pepper can feel him slump against the kitchen countertop. She doesn't know what to do, so she keeps going.

"How bad-" Pepper has to stop to clear her throat, because her mouth's just gone dry-"How bad are the injuries?"

Four dead. Four dead on her watch.

"Who died? What were their names?" Tony asks abruptly. His voice is rough, and when Pepper chances a glance at him she is frightened by his suddenly pale face. "How did they die?"

"Two were trampled," Natalie replies swiftly. "They were both in the Elmhurst ICU until this morning. One in a car collision leaving the Expo. One from debris from the Hall A ceiling."

Tony lets out a heavy gust of air. "We've gotta do something." His voice is tight.

"We will," Pepper interjects, looking at Tony with concern. He suddenly seems small in the dress shirt and tie. Deflated. Tired. "Natalie, what about the injuries?"

"Mostly minor, though reports are still coming in. Lacerations, bruising, a few broken bones, et cetera," she reports. "There are seven reported serious cases. Two still in ICU, critical condition. The other five were serious, upgraded to fair condition as of this morning, prognosis optimistic. One of them is a cop."

"That's good," Pepper says somewhat distantly. Four dead. Four dead on her watch.

"Legal is flying in some of the big brains from Inglewood and Cleveland," Natalie continues. "Matheson and Linderhoff are requesting a meeting ASAP. I told them this afternoon. NYPD and the D.A.'s office are also pushing for time, and they want Mr. Stark in the room as well. I'm waiting on Matheson's ETA before giving them the okay."

"Don't even get the NYPD's hopes up," Pepper instructs. "This is a jurisdictional nightmare as it is. And the D.A. is going to take at least three no's before listening. If Brown is calling us himself, double that. Frankly, I'm not sure we should even talk to the brass before Matheson gets here."

"Yes, Ms. Potts."

It takes 20 minutes for her to get changed and presentable. By the time she exits the ground floor bath, Tony has disappeared and Happy and Natalie-Natasha, whatever-are nowhere to be found.

She can guess easily enough where Tony's gone, at least. She climbs the stairwell to the second floor, running her hand over some the damage he'd inflicted the previous night, and ducks inside the makeshift launch pad.

Sure enough, he's there. But he's not fiddling with equipment, or pouring engine grease over his hands or whatever he likes to do. Instead, he's just standing.

He looks ready to go. Even the pocket square is folded into one of the elaborate, origami-like confections he occasionally amuses himself with. Sunglasses shade his eyes, even from her.

Hands in his pockets, Tony is uncharacteristically still.

"Tony?"

He doesn't seem to hear her.

She bites down her natural impulse ("Tony, come on. We're going to be late. Let's go.") in favor of something softer. She steps across the armor-strewn floor and over to his side, where she just stands for a few moments.

"I shut down Rhodey's armor this morning," he says suddenly. "Bricked it. Once Natasha got it rebooted last night, JARVIS got in and essentially reinstalled himself, so it was a no-brainer. Made sure he wasn't in it first, of course."

"Of course," Pepper agrees. She wouldn't admit it to him out loud, but in comparison to the Optimus Prime-inspired look that the U.S. Air Force and Justin Hammer had concocted, she actually finds the Iron Man suit rather tasteful.

"Classic Hammer work on that one. Add shit that doesn't work, a half ton of tactical webbing, and ruin the paint job. I'm surprised they didn't paint it over with tiger stripes."

Tony glances over at her, sees her smile. "I'm serious. They took a 'vette and spot-welded a Hummer chassis on it. One of those nasty yellow miniature ones that the Pepperdine trust fund kids pawn off for lines of coke and Adderall."

Pepper rolls her eyes. "Tony."

"I mean, they really wrecked a masterpiece. I don't know how Rhodey was even walking in it. My armor is sexy. He looked like the marshmallow guy from Ghostbusters."

Pepper allows herself a tiny smirk at that one, and Tony latches on to it. "Yeah, you like my armor, don't you? You think it's hot. You were really feeling me up there last night on the roof. And on the couch. You've got a thing for it, don't you? Come on, just admit it."

"I'm just surprised you haven't given in to the temptation to add some papier-mâché pecs and Batman & Robin nipples," Pepper replies sweetly.

If anything, his grin gets wider. "Nice. But you can feel the real thing any time. I mean it. Pecs and nipples. Kind of like a two-for-one deal. Four-for-one."

Pepper rolls her eyes at him. "I'll keep that in mind. What are you doing up here, Tony?"

"Other than preparing to indulge your every fantasy?"

"Hilarious."

He opens his mouth as if to respond, and then closes it abruptly. He motions over to the red, silver, and gold plates of metal on the floor with his left hand. "I can't leave this here. Not if I'm gone."

Pepper nods. "Okay."

"I mean, I will-what do you mean, 'okay?'"

"I agree," Pepper tells him quietly. "This isn't the Malibu house. It's not protected."

"Exactly."

"So what do you want to do?"

Tony really looks at her for the first time since she'd entered the room. His eyes go a little wide, and Pepper tries not to squirm as his gaze travels down. "You look good. Seriously. Really hot."

Pepper doesn't know how she's supposed to respond to his little compliments now. Is she supposed to smile at him? Flutter her eyelashes? What does he want her to do? What does she want to do?

She settles for: "Thank you. Focus, please."

His grin tells her she had guessed right. "I'll play ball today, but we're going back to California this afternoon."

Pepper shakes her head. "Can't do that, Tony."

"What are you talking about? Of course we can. That's what I want to do. Vanko's dead-"

"And so are four other people," Pepper interrupts. "People are still in the hospital. This entire situation is not over just because the bad guy is dead, Tony."

"What are we supposed to do? Fly Dummy out from Malibu so he can take a broom and a dustpan to the Hall A?"

He's being willfully short-sighted, and they both know it. "Tony, I'm still CEO. I'm stepping down once this blows over, but-"

"We'll set up trust funds for the families of those who died, we'll fix the damage-"

"That's not the point!"

"-There's no reason for us to be here, we can just help the city with cleanup, the lawyers probably made sure we wouldn't be liable for this anyway, and I'm sure SHIELD will smooth everything over-"

"Stop it, Tony."

He quits talking. Looks away.

Pepper is flushed. She hates doing this. "I know you're not that interested in keeping Stark up and running, but someone has to be. Who knows what kind of hit this is going to be? You're right, our lawyers worked out an ironclad contract with the city, but-"

"'Ironclad.' Nice."

She ignores him. "-but someone still needs to be here. And if you're not willing to be the face of your company, then someone has to. And I'm sure I'll take a lot of heat for it. We were having a difficult enough time keeping you installed as CEO, much less me."

The brief moment of peace they'd shared together downstairs has fled. They're adversaries again, and Pepper can't stand it.

"Fine."

She gawks at him. "What do you mean, 'fine?' What does that mean?"

One corner of his mouth quirks up. "Fine. You're right. We'll stay, we'll do a little pas de deux for SHIELD, we'll play nice."

"What do you mean? What are you getting at?"

He's still smiling, but there's something she can barely see behind his sunglasses that makes him look a little sad. He steps towards her, reaches out for her hands, which are both planted on her hips.

"I'm sorry."

His voice is quiet, and sounds almost embarrassed.

Pepper has no idea what he's apologizing for. "Tony-"

"I shouldn't have abandoned you. And the company, I mean," he clarifies. "I guess-well, I just knew you'd be the best person for the job. When I was gone."

The soft admission makes her stomach tie up. A rush of adrenaline and warmth radiates from her solar plexus, and she feels suddenly short of breath.

"Well, you're not gone," she finally replies lamely. Her heart is pounding.

"Nope."

Pepper pulls her right hand from his grip, and settles it in the center of his chest, the warmth and hum of the reactor reassuring against her palm. "And you're not going anywhere."

"Nope again. You're on a roll."

"And you're going to let me resign."

"You're saying it's up to me?"

"Tony."

"Are you going to leave Stark-the company-are you going to leave the company altogether? Because I know of like, eight jobs we haven't filled since the Stark Crusade began."

Pepper tilts her head up to look at him. "Nine, and that's exactly the kind of violent language that doesn't look good to Wall Street."

"War. Battle. Decimation. Whatever."

"All of those are more violent, not less."

"Did you know that "decimation" actually means "removal of a tenth," and was a Roman military punishment where nine guys had to kill the tenth guy in their unit?"

"So what does that make your 'crusade' against the board? Semination?"

He wrinkles his nose. "Pepper, inappropriate. Jesus."

Pepper fights the urge to grin and give him a 'well played, Mr. Stark' and instead shoves him a little with her shoulder. "So what do we do with the suit?"

"Nice subject change. Real smooth."

"Thank you. So what do we do with the suit?"

He clears his throat. "I could wear it there. SHIELD, CIA, FBI, Pentagon all in one place. It's a seminal occasion, after all."

"Ha, ha."

He shrugs. "Send Happy with it to Malibu. Have JARVIS ship out another football."

"You're okay with that?"

"Not really."

She sighs. "Tony, I-"

She doesn't get a chance to finish her sentence, because he pulls her against his chest, buries his face against her collarbone. He runs warm. The heat of him pressed against her is more reassuring than she ever thought it could be.

She feels his lips moving against her neck and the vibrations of his throat, but she can't understand him. "What?"

He pulls back, stares directly at her through the brown lenses of his sunglasses, hands gripping his shoulders. "I won't abandon you. Promise."

Her shy smile happens before she can bite it back. "Tony, that's-"

"Well, that's actually not what I said. I was telling your collarbone how sexy it is. But I meant the not-abandoning-you thing, too."

TBC