penistower | He made some bad investments.

"Yeah, but so are you." He smiles, a little lopsidedly. "Not even he can make Pepper Potts do something she doesn't want to."

Unconsciously, he turns towards her too, squinting a little as she poses the question. It's not every day you get asked why you're 'nice.'

"I wasn't aware I was nice," he admits, and it's not off-kilter enough to be totally a joke. "I didn't join up to make friends." That's a neat solution, right?

She gives a slightly awkward breath of laughter at that, not sure it's a complimentary trait to be unyielding like that, suddenly remembering all the times she's been called a bossy bitch -- in jest and not. "Yeah."

Unfortunately that's weakening her convenient excuse for being here in the first place, but she doesn't have time to worry about that now. She has the good grace to look ashamed when he turns her words around, realizing in hindsight just how she'd sounded. "I didn't mean... that was a poor choice of words. It's just that sometimes..." Sighing in defeat, she glances back to her food and pokes at her noodles. "Never mind, forget it. So, why did you join?"

"To meet the Hulk, duh." He's pushing his food around at this point to, she's more interesting anyway. "Sometimes I'm a dick, I know. It's my way of... deflecting, I guess." Surely she must know that already by now. Whatever.

"I joined to save the world. Isn't it obvious?" It's juvenile, maybe. But it's the truth. He knows he has a particular skill set to offer the world. She pilots one of his suits, doesn't she feel the same?

The corner of her mouth quirks up briefly at his first response. It's not that she doesn't know he's a jerk sometimes to deflect, she's quite familiar with that. But it's more than that, though. She figures it's a front of some sort, one that's probably needed. The whole world had eyes on them, and superheroes who didn't look like they knew exactly what they were doing at all times didn't inspire confidence.

"I wouldn't know. I joined for the fame and glory, obviously." She turns her head a little to catch his eyes, lips curving slowly into a crooked smirk.

"Obviously." God, how did he never notice how blue her eyes were before? And there goes his train of thought. "I... I was skeptical at first. But it seems to be working out. Right?" The Avengers, SHIELD, their whole partnership. Pick one. He's still trying to come up with a specific name for that color.

Pepper isn't entirely sure what it he's referring to, but it's a fairly universal statement, her expression softening along with her smile.

"Yeah. So far, so good," she agrees quietly and mellifluously, getting a little lost herself in his eyes. She realizes it after a moment, but tamps down on an urge to look away and clear her throat. She changes the subject instead. "...Do you have any ice cream? For dessert."

"Ice cream," he repeats, licking his lips thoughtfully. Almost like it's taking him a long time to remember what that is. Really he's just lost wondering when the last time a woman was even in his apartment... "Do I have ice cream." He rises to his feet, and waves for her to follow. When she does she'll be treated to his very special ~ice cream freezer~ at the back of the pantry. What did you think that was for, meat? Stupid.

"Pick your poison, Potts." His hand braces on her arm for a second while they share the limited closet space. Since he doesn't cook a lot, there's mostly canned and boxed goods like you might find in a military bunker. End of the world emergency ready meals and the whole thing. "I have all the fixings, too. You're a gummy bears and hot fudge kind of girl, aren't you?

Pepper gapes a little as she takes in the pantry, thinking he's all set to hunker down with his provisions in case of a zombie apocalypse or something. The ice cream freezer takes the cake though, her lips twitching a little in some odd mix of emotion she'd describe as a blend of amusement and... being charmed.

"Wow." She turns her head when he guesses her favorite fixings with eerie accuracy, staring in surprise. "How did you... is my file more extensive than I've been told or what-- how could you know that?"

"I'm the ice cream whisperer." He puts his finger to his lips and drags out the cookie dough and the premade fudge, the real kind you have to heat up. "Do you want to get the chocolate brownie and meet me out there?" He brushes by her without waiting for an answer, already setting up the sundae bar by the time she makes it out. He's all about this and then some.

Pepper presses her lips tightly together to ward off the silly smile that wants to break free at his antics, dipping her chin down. She hums an affirmative a little belatedly, grabbing the requested flavor and following after him. Depositing the container on the counter, Pepper takes her earlier seat with a slightly teasing smile. "I would have done this sooner if I'd known you were hiding a freezer full of cookie dough."

"Done what, had a sleepover?" he jokes before he can catch himself, pulling out his secret candy stash to make their treats with. He's glad his back is to her so he can blush unreservedly. Then he's making his way to the sink to wash his hands before starting. Pepper's goes first, a tiny bit of brownie on the bottom, then cookie dough, then fudge he grabs as it comes out of the microwave. His will be less good bc it cools down in like no time at all, but he's made peace with that already. Then gummy bears and a few rainbow sprinkles, and of course whipped cream and two cherries on top. He gives a little flourish and a bow as he presents it to her before going back to the counter to craft his own.

"Something like that," she responds with a slight blush of her own at the implications, focusing her gaze on anything that isn't his backside or... shoulders. Why does he have such nice shoulders, too? Why is she even noticing? The ping of the microwave snaps her out of it guiltily, and she lift a hand up to discreetly feel if her cheeks are flushed before he turns around.

"Oh my god," she chuckles when he presents her with her loaded sundae, picking off a gummibear to munch on before touching the ice cream. "This is amazing. Keep this up and I won't fit into my suit," she cracks, right before spooning up some of the goodness with a happy sigh. Self-restraint is for wussies. At least when it comes to ice cream.

His gaze follows her lips before he forces himself to tear away -- reminding himself of his rapidly cooling chocolate. In his own creation, there's much more chocolate -- brownie ice cream and fudge both, sprinkles, marshmallows, and about the same amount of cookie dough covered in too much whipped cream and cherries. He laughs heartily at that, finding it hard to picture her as anything but her slim, lean self. Not that he's picturing her... any way.

Tony drops down across from her, figuring it's a cool enough night that he won't have to worry about the ice cream melting all over his kitchen before they finish. "You'll have to take the Hulkbuster," he threatens, but he can't even hold it together for a second before losing it with an evil cackle as he crosses his ankles and starts in on his own ice cream mountain.

She squeaks indignantly though her eyes are alight with mirth, reaching her free hand across the space between them to thwap his shoulder lightly as she battles a grin. "Oh yeah? You'll have to make another one of those for yourself, then," she jabs, nodding at his own bounty.

He's still laughing even while he swallows, shaking his head as his eyes glaze over with a mirthful sheen. He looks at his shoulder and then back over at her without moving at all, as if afraid to jostle her even for a joke. "I'd be down with that. Will you still go out with me if I'm fat and sloppy though?" He purses his lips in between bites, tone serious even if they both know better.

"Will you? We'll both be fat and sloppy, remember," she points out with a smirk and an ached brow, fondly amused, bringing a spoonful of fudge-laden ice cream to her lips is if in punctuation.

"Oh, so it's only okay if we're both gross. I can work with that." He shrugs, licking some vanilla off his mustache. He doesn't get it all unsurprisingly. "Have you ever dated a fat guy?" It would probably be an insensitive question coming from anyone else, but from Tony Stark it doesn't even scratch the iceburg of fucked up shit he says on the daily so he really doesn't stop to wonder why he's asking, or even why he wants to know.

"Um." If she was a little taken aback by his summary -- that wasn't exactly what she'd been going for -- his question completely throws her off. Who even asks that? Tony, apparently. Why is she even surprised? "I... can't say that I have, actually," she finally says, focusing on spooning up some ice cream.

It's only after she tries to answer that he realizes that wasn't socially sound. And this is why he never has girls at his apartment. He frowns briefly, continuing to eat in silence for a few more seconds. "I've never actually... dated anyone. I mean. Not really. Like in the movies or whatever." He flushes again, wondering how that's even possible while shoveling frozen cream into his mouth at forty degrees. "But you probably knew that already." Like he knew the gummy bears thing. This is normal partner stuff... isn't it?

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, dating really is rarely anything like the movies make it seem," she says a bit gently when she recovers after a moment, giving a small smile. "Sometimes, I don't know how people manage it, to be honest. But yes, I knew that."

"Yeah, right. Of course you do." Everyone knows about his... past with the ladies. He flashes a meek smile and flickers his gaze to her then back down again. "Can you tell me... what it is like? So I can fake it," he tacks on, like that wasn't his primary reason for asking. But of course it was. Wasn't it? He begins to scrap up the last of what's fallen to the bottom of his bowl, cookie dough and brownie pieces, sprinkles and hot fudge. Even without ice cream it's all good in a way you know it shouldn't be. ...Kind of like this, now. He's having a good time. He wasn't expecting that.

"You don't ask easy questions, do you?" She breathes a slight laugh, shaking her head as she eats the last of her ice cream distractedly, thinking. What is it like? It's not a simple question to answer.

"It's more compromises and work than movies make it seem, but with the right person it doesn't feel quite so much like work. It's... companionship, and partnership in all things. Taking care of one another. When it's good, it's kind of like this ice cream. But when it's with the right person, it's the ice cream and all your favorite fixings besides."

She's sure Tony is looking for something more concrete and less inexact and flowery, but she doesn't have anything else. "At least I like to think so. I've never actually had it that good," she tacks on with a slightly self-deprecating quirk of her lips. "Which is another thing the movies get wrong. Simple math alone says the odds are inevitably against you, aren't they."

It's only after her explanation starts up that he processes her earlier comment. If she doesn't know how people 'manage' it then she'd never actually been successful in it herself, had she? And here he is grilling her.

"I don't really..." Know what that means. Any of it, in terms of real life. He bites down on the inside of his mouth, watching her. He doesn't feel right asking her anything else. "Yeah," he says, changing tacks. "I guess it is. We're used to that though, right. Slim odds." To put it lightly. He quirks half a smile at her and sets his bowl down, still licking his lips.

Pepper glances up from her bowl when he speaks up, waiting for the rest. When it becomes evident that's all he has, she gives a small smile, a little sad but understanding. She thinks she knows where he was going with that.

"Yeah," she agrees. "That we are." She pauses a little over the context, but determines not to overthink it. Or read anything into it. Or... anything. "Well, we don't have to worry about all that." She smirks playfully, a bit desperate to steer the focus away from where it is now. "Just do as I tell you and everything will be fine."

For whatever reason, when Pepper tells him not to worry he's always listened. It was part of what made them so good out in the field together. She was the only true stabilizing force in his life, and so her assurance brings him real comfort when anyone else saying that might be met with defensiveness or at the very least uncertainty.

"Yes, dear." He tilts his head and lets that wash over him. It felt right. He looks over the mess they've made and realizes he really doesn't want to deal with it. And his ice cream is probably melting on the counter by now. "I'm just gonna--" Reluctantly, he gets up, arm brushing hers again when he goes to take her bowl. He gets everything into the sink okay. This is so... domestic. Of course it is, right? That's the mission. He just hadn't expected it to feel good. It's weird.

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