A/N: This has been knocking around my hard drive for a while now; finally saw Ironman 3 (woot!) so thought I'd dust this off and finish it.

Disclaimer: Ironman and its characters belong to Marvel. For entertainment only; no profit is being made.

Warning: Minor spoilers for Ironman 3 - but the few mentions here are right from the trailer.

A warehouse afternoon

Today:

There's nothing like creating a new household from scratch. Of course, Pepper never thought she'd be able to do so with a virtually unlimited pocketbook.

It was exciting and a bit overwhelming.

But she was sooo ready for it, after spending the last few months with Tony in a hotel (an expensive, incredibly lavish hotel). They'd had time enough to say goodbye to the mansion, utterly destroyed by the Mandarin's thugs. After that whole terrible….thing, they'd had time to rest, recuperate and deal with the press.

And now they were going stir-crazy in an amazing, luxurious atmosphere where everything they touched was rented.

Yeah. It was time. The construction of their new home was finished (a happy coincidence Tony had included a "modest" living space in the plans for the new building, for those nights he needed to overnight at the lab). Moving into the penthouse meant they had two floors to decorate, each the size of a city block …. but Stark Tower was just that. Stark, empty and in desperate need of a personal touch.

So, that's what brought them here to the Warehouse (with a capital "W").

Ironically, over the years she'd expressed a good amount of exasperation about this place – a humongous room whose sole purpose was simply to house a bunch of stuff that would never see the light of day. Ahem. Probably. But today she was grateful for it. It was filled with art, a lot of it she absolutely loved.

She looked over at Tony, in his jeans and tennies, gazing towards the back of the warehouse and obviously anticipating a good rummage.

It made her smile. "Do you remember the first time we came here together?"

He looked over, tilting his head, eyebrow creased. "Mmm..yeeah," he said, a question in his voice.

She shook her head, smiling, "I was just remembering how different things were then."

He huffed a laugh. "Yeah." He grinned ruefully. "I was a little wild back then…and you were sooo proper." His eyes crinkled at the corners. "It was just after you started working with me, right?"

One side of her mouth quirked up and she nodded. "Yeah." Stepping up to him, she ran an arm around his waist as he leaned in for a quick kiss. "It feels like it was yesterday."

Yesterday…or about ten years ago:

Her horror increased exponentially as the lights flickered to life, like two rows of dominos. Evil dominos. Could dominos be evil? When the room was fully lit, it was worse than she could have imagined.

"Mr. Stark. You can't be serious."

"I'm not?"

She sighed, sweeping her gaze across the tightly packed storage area. It had to be at least the size of a football field.

"No, more like an airplane hanger." His voice was light, and she heard a chuckle there. "A large airplane hanger."

Oh. Did I say that out loud?

With a distinct note of satisfaction, he finished, "Because … it used to be one."

"And how big is this item you say you desperately need?"

"Mmm, about…" He held out his hands nearly five inches apart. He looked over at the sound she made - equal parts panic and disgust. Was she really upset? He might be the "boss" but he wasn't a total ass, regardless of what the media (and the blonde from the charity dinner last week) might think. If this was going to be really painful for her, it wasn't worth it. Ah. There. Amusement lurking behind those blue eyes; that frown was for show.

He'd been working with Pepper Potts for a year and a half. He was getting pretty good at the game they played and it was fun, it was just … he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do to win. He liked winning. And! He caught himself saying and doing things just to see how she'd react. What was that about?

He just…he wanted to …. you want to what, Tony? She's a great assistant. She's the only one that's stayed longer than a few months. Behave yourself.

He wanted to get to know her better. What was wrong with that?

Nothing, of course! And there was no reason he couldn't have a little fun while he did it.

While he got to know her, that is.

Glancing at Pepper, he tried to hide the mischief in his voice as he said, "I'm not exactly sure where it is. I haven't kept track of where things are in here."

"Really. Hmm." He heard her rummage in her bag and turned around. She had her cell phone out and was dialing. "Jarvis?"

His mouth curved wryly at her smirk. This was why he'd hired her. She was too clever for his own good.

"We're at the storage center, Jarvis, and Mr. Stark needs to find his….?" She looked over at him expectantly.

"Smart Cleaver."

"…Smart Cleaver?" She flashed her boss a look of mild alarm; he laughed. "Can you tell us where it is?" Tony waited, almost hearing the AI's voice in his head, already knowing what it would say. He'd programmed it, after all. "But…can't you narrow it down a little more?" Now, she was looking rather irritated. "All right, Jarvis. Thank you."

Eyebrows raised innocently, Tony asked, "what did he say?"

"You know perfectly well what he said, don't you?" She put her phone away, crossing her arms. "And a 'Smart Cleaver'? I don't even want to know what you need to cleave." She heaved a big sigh, paused and finally said plaintively, "couldn't you have just gotten one from the kitchen?"

He'd never heard her whine before. It was kind of cute.

"Aw come on Potts, it won't be so bad. And we can have ice cream afterwards." He waited a beat while his assistant glowered at him. Hmm. "Two scoops?"

Her mouth twisted, but the good humor returned. "With sprinkles."

Dark eyes smiling, Tony knew he'd won. "Okay, sure. I didn't know you were a sprinkles kind of girl, Ms. Potts."

The laugh in her boss' eyes was growing and Pepper fought the urge to smile. "Okay, but ice cream or no, you owe me for this one," she growled, trying unsuccessfully to remain cross in the face of that. "Where is section K2?"

Grinning, he indicated the way with a tilt of his head and they started walking. And walking. Section A1, A2….C1…D…

Pepper had never been to the warehouse before. Whenever Mr. Stark bought "must-haves", Pepper placed the order, purchased the item, and once he'd viewed it at the mansion he'd have it moved into storage. Lately, he didn't even look at it before having it packed away. They'd been walking for a while and Pepper was astounded at the sheer quantity of stuff. Boxes of all sizes, cardboard, plastic, wood, metal.

"Mr. Stark?"

"Mmm?" She knew he was reading the signs on the posts as he answered, tennis-clad feet making no sound but for the occasional squeak against the linoleum.

Absently, Pepper noted that the tile looked brand new. "Please tell me this isn't all your stuff."

"This isn't all my stuff."

She wondered if a temporary insanity defense would work if she strangled him, right here, right now. Pepper was pretty sure Rhodey at least would understand.

Unperturbed by her dirty look, Tony chuckled. "Don't you believe me?"

"No."

"Well, it's true. There are definitely one or two things in here that aren't mine." He stopped. "Ah! Here we are."

Pepper stopped, staring. Section "K2" was the size of a small house…her boss' idea of a small house. Rows and rows of shelving stacked with boxes – maybe eight feet tall and lined end to end. Further down, she could see the sign marking the next section. Yep, this whole area was "K2".

"See? It'll be quick."

"These boxes aren't labeled." She gestured, indicating the shelves. "And I can't believe how huge this is."

"I get that a lot."

Giving him a look, she said, "Please, Mr. Stark, focus. I meant the shelves. This task. You are insane. I do have a life outside of work, you know. I'd like to leave at a reasonable hour."

"A life outside of work? Did I authorize that? I don't remember signing for that." He looked back at her. Uh-oh. She was looking rebellious, and for his patient-as-a-saint assistant, that was saying something. In an attempt to head off disaster, he said, "If we haven't found it by quitting time, I'll have Hogan pick you up. No need for you to stay late Ms. Potts."

She considered that until, with a skeptical squint to her blue eyes, she apparently came to a decision. Huffing a breath that lifted her bangs off her forehead, she gave in. "Where shall we start?"

He grinned. "Great! Okay…hmm." He looked around, picking the first box off the shelf in front of him. "This one looks promising."

"Promising of what? I still don't know what we're looking for."

"Oh, right. Metal, rectangular, gray. You'll know it when you see it."

"Mmm-hmm." She gave him a wry look as she moved to help him pry it open. Metal. Rectangular. Gray. That's like, three-quarters of the stuff in his workshop!?

They got the box open to a jumble of wires and rectangular gray metal. Exhaling, fighting hysterical laughter, she said, "How about a little more detail?"

Soon they had settled into a rhythm. Tony pulled boxes, they'd each take one…open, dig around, rearrange and return to the shelf.

The morning stretched to afternoon, it was getting late and Pepper was getting desperate. They had made good time, knocking out a good large chunk of what they needed to go through, and though her boss had plucked various whats-its, whozits and gee-gaws from boxes to create a growing pile of tech for them to bring back with them to the mansion, no luck yet on the cleaving-thingy.

Tony Stark's personal assistant did not relish the thought of leaving her boss searching through dusty boxes alone. She took pride in her work and she had an assignment. Regardless of what he might say (or think), leaving would feel like failure, and she hated that feeling. They had to find it before she went home, or it would bug her all night.

"Are there any boxes we can rule out?" Looking down to the end of the row she was working on, she mentally counted the number of boxes remaining. Yeah. It hadn't changed since the last time she'd counted.

Tony didn't reply for a second, and Pepper realized he was lost in thought. She wondered what was in the box he was working on. But apparently he had heard her. Shaking himself, he stood up, dusted off his jeans and walked over. He reached out his hand. "Come on. Let's take a break."

Pepper fought a flash of annoyance. That's not going to help matters. But she could see from his expression that protesting would be pointless. She accepted the hand up, pulling herself out from under the box she'd been wrestling with.

She started back towards the main walkway, but he shook his head. "This way." Instead, he headed through the shelving units past the area they had yet to go through, toward the closest wall. When they reached it, Pepper was only a little surprised to see a door there. Looking along the wall in both directions, she realized they were right about in the middle of the storage building. Tony got to the door first, pushing the heavy handle down and opening it.

A warm breeze greeted them as they stepped outside and dappled sunlight softened the afternoon glare in the courtyard beyond. This side of the building bordered the forest. Looking along the length of the building, Pepper saw it was cleared just enough to keep the trees from encroaching. A break area for employees, probably. Back when this had been an airplane hanger? Someone had taken the trouble to lay down paving stones, but they were ill-kept now, with weeds growing up through the cracks. There were two obviously new folding chairs sitting there cheerily (if unevenly), apparently waiting for them with a small cooler nestled nearby.

Looking a question at her boss, Pepper walked over to where he gestured (gallantly), at the chair opposite where he stood. Turning then, he opened the cooler to pull out bottles of water and two boxes. She grinned, happy to see deli sandwiches from their now-regular haunt…ever since she'd introduced him to the place six months ago.

It was an eccentric little place; absolutely divine sandwiches. Homemade soups and … they included a chatzke trinket in every box (even though they were in the middle of the business district and all of their clients were grownups). It was silly and fun and she'd deny it if anyone asked, but she looked forward to seeing what she got every time. Today she got a ring with a flower on it … and Tony? Some kind of lizard ring, its tail looped around in a circle to make the shape. It was actually kind of neat. She smiled when he wrinkled his nose at it, putting it back in the bag. There was a barely legible scrawl on the paper wrapping her sandwich and she was oddly pleased to see that he'd gotten her favorite. Suddenly she realized she – was – famished - and when she got a whiff of the food, she couldn't help the groan of happiness, nor the sheepish quirk to her lips when he glanced up at the sound.

Then it was quiet for a bit as they ate their food, gazing into the forest. Pepper could hear birdcalls and the rustle of leaves at the welcome breeze, bringing the smell of green. It was a balm to her frustrated, twanging nerves. But the sense of calm didn't last. Too soon her mind started searching again, looking for a way to speed their job. "I'm a little surprised that Jarvis wasn't able to give me a more exact location…and a box number?"

"Well, I didn't involve Jarvis in everything until recently." He was still looking into the forest, his voice introspective. "A lot of the things in this section are from my college days. Never got around to having him catalog and number these boxes."

A question surfaced - one that had tickled her curiosity on and off since she'd met him. Something about the moment let her ask it. "What was it really like, going to college when you did?"

He looked over at her, and for a moment she thought she saw the (very) young man he must have been at MIT. Eager, hopelessly brilliant, desperately lonely and wanting to please. It was so wonderful and painful at the same time that Pepper instantly regretted her question. But then he gave her that evil smile of his and the image was gone. "I don't think they knew what to do with me. Well, the faculty didn't know what to do with me. The girls knew exactly what to do with me. College was a tremendous learning experience for me."

Wryly, Pepper said, "I think I get the picture. You don't need to say any more."

"You sure? I could go into detail."

Laughing, she shook her head, "no, no thank you. While I appreciate the thought," she rolled her eyes and continued, "I think I'm better off not knowing."

Sighing mournfully, he said, "Suit yourself."

She snorted a laugh; it wasn't quite the answer she wanted, but after working with him for the past year, it was the answer she should have expected.

They finished their meal, enjoying the gentle rustle of leaves in the afternoon breeze. Pepper looked over at the man next to her; he was gazing into the distance, dark eyes thoughtful. He must have felt her looking at him…he glanced over, pulling himself back from whatever thoughts held him. Finally, he said, "Well, Ms. Potts…time to get back to it." Standing up, he swigged the last of his water and gathered up their food containers, heading back towards the door. Quickly, she stood up and stretched (taking a fortifying breath) and followed him back into the warehouse.

Pepper was an endurance worker – when she had a project she tended to work through until it was done. But she had to admit that Tony had been right to call a break. Though the task was still daunting, lunch and the respite left her refreshed; so it was quick work for Pepper to finish up the box she'd been working on. The next two were on the lower shelves, so she plucked them down herself, cracked them open and was inordinately pleased at how swiftly they went. Grunting a little, she put them away. But glancing up at the next box, she saw it was much bulkier, made of wood. It looked heavy. Grimacing, she looked over expectantly at her boss. He'd insisted early on that he would move the heavy boxes (and ended up moving nearly all of them, heavy or light, for her). And up until now, he seemed to be keeping a close tab on her progress; he'd always been ready to hop up and help her when she finished sorting a box.

She realized he was still sifting through the box from earlier. He was looking down, a small frown creasing his forehead. Curious now, Pepper got up and went over to him. The box he was working on was big. Much bigger than the one she'd just finished. Unlike most of those Pepper had come across, this box held virtually no electronics. A tiny part of her set up a childish tirade that he shouldn't be looking through it since it obviously didn't have what they were seeking.

But then she saw it.

It was big. And it looked so soft. She had to. Reaching down past his shoulder, she touched it.

"Hey," he said. "That's a classic. Be careful."

She raised an eyebrow at him, one side of her mouth curving up. "You've got to be kidding."

"No. I'm not…besides, it has sentimental value."

Still smiling, she tugged at one corner of it, watching it unroll. Oh, it was glorious. The velvet shone as brightly as it must have brand new, and the colors in the painting were still vivid. It was perfect. Right down to the red-sequined shirt. "Elvis. On black velvet. Really?"

"Hey. Don't diss the King." At her inquiring look he just smiled, as self-satisfied as the Cheshire cat.

Rolling her eyes, she commented slowly, "I can't say I took you for an Elvis fan," and when his smirk didn't fade, she knew. "…Tijuana?"

He chuckled. "You don't have to say it like that," and then he shrugged, nodding, obviously remembering, "but yeah. It was an interesting weekend—educational, even. There was obscene amounts of alcohol and people and maybe even farm…."

"Oh God! I definitely don't need to hear about it!" she cut in, hands up and holding the velvet canvas in front of her face like a shield.

"Buildings," he finished, cackling and pulling back when she whacked him with her free hand. "Okay, okay. I'll spare you the details," he grinned and then paused, contemplating her reaction as if a thought had just occurred to him. Tilting his head, he accused, "Your imagination has got to be worse than what actually happened. Hey. What kind of guy do you think I am?" But then, squinching his eyes shut with a grimace, he raised a hand to stop her. "Wait. Don't answer that."

Feeling her cheeks warm, she just smiled, gently rolled the (obnoxiously loud) velvet painting back up and put it back where it had been nestled in the cardboard box. As she did, her hand brushed against a wooden container, accidentally dislodging the cover. "Ack. I'm sorry," she said quickly, moving to replace it. Before she could, though, Tony had reached down and pulled the box out.

It wasn't large, but it was made of some dark red wood with a fine grain and smooth rounded edges. A few knick-knacks, ticket stubs and pictures were jumbled inside. Pepper found it incredibly tantalizing; she saw that one side of his mouth had turned up, his gaze had softened and she knew those things obviously had meaning for him.

He noticed her interest and paused, his eyes thoughtful. When he didn't say anything immediately, Pepper glanced up into his face and for the first time since she'd begun working with him she sensed a barrier go down. It wasn't an obvious thing, but it was a little scary there, for a minute.

One of her boss's many talents was a crazy ability to make anyone feel at home (when he wanted to, and if he didn't drive them insane first). She didn't deny that he was witty and mischievous, usually lewd and could be incredibly charming. It took a few months to realize that while all of that was a part of him, it was also how he kept people away. It was a great big bubble that he surrounded himself with to keep everyone at a safe distance. But here in the dim warehouse, in the quiet stillness, something in his eyes changed. When she caught his eyes as he held that striking wooden box, he smiled and shifted over - leaning up against one of the boxes on the shelf behind them and gave her room to sit next to him.

The first thing out was a picture of a young woman with warm, smiling eyes. She was sitting on a bicycle, leaning forward, her arms thrown over the handle bars. The smile held a hint of mischief, and Pepper was so familiar with that expression, she knew who it was before he said it. "My mom, when she went to college." He grinned his lopsided grin and gazed at the picture a moment, thumb smoothing over the woman's features. Carefully, he put the picture back and, flipping quickly past a picture of a serious looking man in a business suit, he snatched up a small ticket stub. "My first concert. Guess who it was." Glancing at the tattered remnant, Pepper couldn't see the group – he had his thumb covering it.

She opened her mouth to name the first band that came to mind, the one that blared most often from his workshop - but then, forehead creasing and suspecting a trick, her mouth snapped closed. Just to see his reaction she said, "Boyz II Men?"

"…..no."

Hiding her smile, she continued, "Cyndi Lauper? No..Boy George." As his expression moved from 'oh-come-on' to 'you're killing me', she finally relented and made her real guess. "AC/DC?" But at the smug look of denial, she frowned and reached over, taking the stub to see who it actually had been. Eyebrows lifting to the sky, her ponytail bobbed as she shook her head. "Oh wow. Yeah. I never would have gotten that one."

"It's a good group."

"Yes, it is."

"Damn straight." The hint of an edge, there.

Still half-smiling, Pepper looked into slightly defiant eyes, threaded with a tinge of ….embarrassment? The expression was so foreign on his face that it immediately piqued her curiosity. This was obviously about more than who the group was. Doing a quick calculation she figured he must have been what, maybe fourteen? Hmm. Going on a hunch, she calmly asked, "Sooo. Who went with you?"

At that, his eyes widened and he snorted a laugh, the sound an interesting counterpoint to the glower on his face. "That obvious, huh?" His mouth twisted wryly. "Meredith. Ugh. Her mom and mine played tennis together and were trying to set us up for AGES." Looking horrified, he said, "She thought electronics were boring. She hated Rock!" (Eye roll there.) "I was still the better choice for a date than her mom." Pitching his voice higher and scowling, he mimicked some kind of mutant-teenager, saying, "That would have been like, super uncool." He shuddered, obviously remembering.

At Pepper's sympathetic sound, he sighed. "It didn't turn out too badly, though. She was so excited at the concert, she forgot to be a….witch." He shook his head. "God she could shriek. When George Michael came out I thought she was gonna pop a vein. My ears were ringing for days." Somehow Pepper suspected that underneath that scowl she'd find a grudging admission that he'd actually enjoyed the concert. Otherwise why keep the stub? It sure didn't sound like he'd want to remember the company. Regardless, Pepper found it didn't matter, because she was thoroughly enjoying the image of a reluctant young escort to a wide-eyed screaming teenage pop-fan. And despite her best attempt not to (in the face of his sour expression), Pepper grinned. It was nice to know that regardless of income level, apparently all moms eventually put their children into painfully awkward social situations.

Tony paused, huffing at her amusement before finishing darkly, "if you tell anyone, you're fired." Not sure if the warning was about the date or the band and really not caring, she nodded, her eyes sparkling.

He dropped the bit of paper back into the box, and it slipped to one side, catching slightly on the shimmer of smooth glass. The reflection of fluorescent light obscured the contents of a small container, but Pepper could hear a clink of something inside as Tony shifted. Finding that glittering reflection altogether too tempting to resist, Pepper reached in and pulled it out. It was a glass beaker, sealed with a cork. Her brows drew together – sand, a shell. A few stones.

The look he gave Pepper could only be described as shifty. "Uh…I'm not sure why I still have that."

Brows drawn together, she waited, wondering….this was the first time she'd seen him at a loss for words. But he didn't say anything more, suddenly seeming incredibly interested in the contents of the larger box they sat next to.

Well.

Another mystery. Setting the delicate container back in the box, she said, "Okay, I'll give you a pass on that one."

"Hm. Actually, I think I'll take that….it doesn't really belong here." With quick fingers, he plucked the glass beaker out of the box, looking at it a moment before slipping it into his shirt pocket. Then he carefully rearranged the remaining contents of the small wooden box and set it gently back.

That surprised her. "You don't want to bring it back to the mansion?"

He smiled ruefully and shook his head. "Nah. That was a different life." He took another minute to sift through the rest of the large and heavily laden box. Finally, it looked like he might be done; he sat back. Unconsciously he reached up and checked the beaker in his pocket – probably to make sure it was securely seated. He looked back up at Pepper then and she expected him to be back to business … they still had so many boxes to look through. But she was caught off guard when instead of the normal "let's get to work" expression, his glance was filled with shadows of the past. In the face of how open he'd been a moment ago, it was suddenly too personal, that gaze. Pepper's breath caught; her heart quickening. She looked down, feeling like she was seeing more than she should. And what did that mean? To cover her confusion, she made a show of scanning the rest of the contents of that larger box they'd pulled the painting and box of mementos from. "What we're looking for doesn't seem to be here…but do you still want to go through this?" She paused and took a breath. "We could take it back to the office."

He exhaled, thinking, and finally shook his head. "Nah. That's alright. I really need to catalog this stuff sometime, but not today." He looked at her appraisingly, and checked his watch. "Hey, tell you what. If the SC03's not in the next box," at her blank look he restated, "Uh..the Smart Cleaver. I'll order another one." He gestured to the pile-o-stuff behind him. "I've found lots to keep me busy here. No use wasting any more time on one piece of gear."

Perplexed and more than a little exasperated, Pepper tilted her head. He'd been absolutely adamant this morning that he needed that cleaver thingy today. She resisted rolling her eyes. And sighing. Because in truth, she was hot. And dusty, and tired. And even though she couldn't see it, she knew that by now the sun was heading lower in the sky and soon it would be getting dark. So instead, unconsciously imitating him, she heaved an answering breath, saying, "We're still going for ice cream, right?"

He stood up and reached for the next box. "How about some dinner first?"

It was a casual question. But something about the set of his shoulders and the subtle pressure of another meaning below that simple question made her pause. She closed her lips over the words she'd been about to voice as he pulled down the box and opened the seal.

Pepper supposed cleaning the junk in her spare room could wait another night.

Dinner was at a little restaurant on the coast. She could smell the ocean and the light scent of some exotic flower they'd planted near the windows. The shrimp was divine and the wine was light with a hint of apple and rose. It was a special treat for her; she may work for a billionaire, but didn't exactly live like one. It was hard to keep the smile from her face and she found she didn't really want to. More than once, she caught her boss looking at her, his dark eyes delighted as she enjoyed their surroundings and the ambrosia on her plate masquerading as food.

It was during a quiet moment after the staff had cleared their plates and they were enjoying a smooth dark coffee that he said, "this was my mother's favorite restaurant."

Pepper looked around at the beautifully elegant but still somehow cozy décor, from the clean lines of the natural wood furniture and simple white linen, to the delicate flowers in the hand-blown vase that graced the center of their table. Were those apple blossoms? "I can see why. It's perfect." He didn't respond, but it didn't bother her. The gentle hum of people talking around them and the sounds and smell of the water were soothing after the day of lifting, sorting, frustration and dust. She sipped at her coffee, comfortable and sated and before she could think better of it, she heard herself venture with an embarrassingly apparent hint of longing, "it must have been amazing, growing up with this kind of life." She immediately kicked herself; he'd probably heard that a gazillion times.

But he didn't frown or laugh at her or even suggest he might roll his eyes. Instead, a small smile, a glance, with an almost wistful comment. "This little place was one of the few places where I spent time with my parents." His voice wry and a little sad, he continued, "It was pretty funny that even their own kid had to make an appointment with them." He was looking down at the tablecloth now, lost in old memories, fingers worrying at a piece of thread coming off the edge of his napkin. "I don't have a single memory of my dad just sitting down to play a game with me, or tossing a ball in the back yard." Pepper felt the ache there, her heart breaking at its lonely ring. Then he shook his head and smiled, saying briskly, "they were busy people." Remembering her mother's laughter and running down the beach as a child, collecting shells and chasing sand crabs, Pepper realized that maybe growing up as Anthony Stark hadn't been as amazing as most people thought.

"Come on." He took her hand, pulling her after him toward the door. "We have one more stop."

Pepper had chocolate, two scoops. With extra sprinkles. And somehow managed not to complain about how very full she was on the ride back to the mansion.

It was late when the purr of the Audi cut off. Lights flickered on, one by one. Pepper was reminded of that moment when the sheer size of the warehouse was revealed by fluorescent lights. Now, those lights displayed her boss' collection of cars. Beyond them - behind the dubious protection of plate glass lay the majority of his workshop (said protection was dubious only because he tended to work with things that either exploded or had a tendency to ricochet….into things that exploded).

As the young woman turned to pick up her purse, she dimly heard the sound of her boss's door open, close. Oops, I'd better get out. She reached for the handle and paused. He was at her door, pulling it open for her. Hoping the quick blush she felt didn't show, she smiled and stepped out as he stepped back. "Thank you," she said, surprised and a little confused. Her heart beat faster as she stepped past him and wondered what was behind those eyes of his. Before she quite made it past he reached out, fingers wrapping around her wrist.

"Pepper, I…."

Her heart almost stopped as he turned her to face him, bringing her up close and making her stutter-step to avoid brushing up against him. Her heart was a trip-hammer in her chest. "Yes?" He didn't answer right away. Breathe, Pepper.

He closed the distance between them and she could smell his cologne, feel the hint of warmth from being so close to him. Breathing was suddenly much, much, harder.

Startled blue looked up into dark eyes and Pepper could see the heat of something more than business behind that gaze. She didn't realize her lips had parted in her surprise, but he had; his eyes moved over her features to linger there, warm breath gusting against the corner of her mouth.

She couldn't help the odd sensation that he was the predator and she the prey.

It was then that he must have noticed the tremble in the wrist he held. He blinked and not for the first time that day, Pepper felt something shift. He stepped back, clearing his throat. As she tried desperately to compose herself and get her riotous breathing back under control, he smiled and it was rueful. "…sorry, Miss Potts. I…" Eyes roamed her features again, searchingly. The moment stretched until finally something snapped. He smiled again and it was as if the last few moments hadn't happened. "Thanks for your help today."

What just happened? His words said one thing but his eyes said something else entirely. Pepper ducked her head, returning the smile, embarrassed and flustered. "Um, certainly, Mr. Stark." I should go, I should go. Right now.

Not knowing exactly what to do, she fell back to her comfort zone; their common ground. She heard her voice, a little breathless and sounding like it came from someone else. "I know it's late, but I should probably check on a couple of things in the office, if-if it's okay…"

She didn't want to assume she could just go up to the office and maybe it'd be smarter to leave, except that she desperately wanted to recapture her now shattered sense of calm. Of course, she'd worked late many times, but had never left the office and returned so late. It felt odd. This was Mr. Stark's home. But he nodded, not seeming to find fault with the idea.

It was ironic really, that she was trying to find balance in a place owned by the man who had put her off-balance. Pepper quickly headed for the stairs, trying to ignore the feeling that she was running away from something.

She had just finished tidying up her desk, getting ready for the next morning, when she realized she'd left her purse in the car. Not a problem (she told herself)…she could exit through the garage. Grabbing a gadget Mr. Stark had left on her desk that morning when he'd told her about the warehouse excursion, she headed downstairs.

She'd just stop in the workshop to put it away before getting her purse to head home. Definitely not a problem, because she wasn't uncomfortable or unsure at all. About anything.

Keying in her code to get into the workshop, Pepper resisted the urge to sigh in relief. Her boss was there, but his head was tucked under a piece of equipment, wires akimbo and muttering to himself. Of course he was and what are you afraid of? She could probably sneak in and out, grab her purse from the car and see him in the morning after a good night's sleep had swept away this weird feeling in the pit of her stomach.

But again, her odd sense of propriety wouldn't allow her to just sneak around his house. "Mr. Stark, I'm going to head out now, but I left my purse in the car…"

He didn't look up. "Mm? Oh sure…no problem, it's not locked, Pepper…" The distraction in his voice was clear. Obviously, unfairly, he wasn't at all unsettled by that strange moment they'd had. Okay. Maybe that was a good thing.

"Thank you - I'll just go get it, then."

"Sounds like a plan." Pepper knew that by this time he'd dismissed their conversation, that brilliant mind already back to whatever inventor-ey thing he was working on. Silently, she exhaled in relief.

Now. Where did this thingy-me-whatsit go? Locating the most likely shelf, she headed in that direction. The only space was on the third shelf, a reach even with her height.

Stretching to put the wire enshrouded doohickey away, she found her hands blocked by something. Nudging it, she looked more closely. Imperceptibly, her eyes widened. There, at the front of the shelf (where her boss could not possibly have missed it), was a gray rectangular metal box, with an odd little hinge and a label that said, very clearly, "SMART Cleaver". Picking it up, she opened her mouth to say something. She looked over to where he still sat, completely embroiled and intent in the mass of confused wire and hanging components. She frowned, thinking. Maybe he hadn't seen the Smart Cleaver on the shelf. But. How could he not? It was right there.

Maybe he'd found it after they returned from the warehouse. While she was finishing up in the office. After the day spent looking for it, maybe he hadn't wanted to tell her. Yes. That must have been it.

Setting it down and letting her hand drop from the little metal box, she turned, her eyes falling to a glass parts jar. It sat next to the delicate glass container that Tony had brought from the warehouse, still containing those items that would clink if she lifted it. He must have set it there so it wouldn't break while he worked.

And the parts jar next to it was only one amongst many that littered the shelves, but its contents….

Pepper smiled, thoughtful as her fingers ran over it. It didn't contain bolts, or nuts or anything else remotely mechanical. There were three things in it – two plastic chatzke rings and an apple blossom.

The memory of his voice echoed in her mind. I had to make an appointment just to see them….."

Maybe Tony Stark was the type of person to plan for every contingency. Maybe that was why he'd obviously planned for the whole day when he'd asserted the task would only take 'an hour…two, tops.' Chairs in the little courtyard, lunch. The casual way he'd searched without any sense of urgency. Dinner. And ice cream, with sprinkles.

She glanced back up at the Smart Cleaver and back to her boss. Walking to the door leading to the garage, she smiled and said quietly, "Goodnight Mr. Stark."

"Goodnight Ms. Potts. See you in the morning." Briefly extricating himself from the mass of wire, he looked up from his work as the door began its slow path to closing.

Her voice floated back to him, holding a hint of a smile as she replied. "See you in the morning." The hall light flickered out, and with a grin, he returned his attention to the fiber optics cable he was working with…he was going to have to grab the cleaver soon, this stuff was a pain to cut.

As he made the last connection he needed before getting up, he made a mental note to set aside some time with Jarvis to start cataloging the warehouse – there may come a day when he might actually need to pull some stuff out of there.

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