How I imagine Pepper got her nickname.

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I huffed quietly to myself. I wish I wasn't so nervous. After the interview I just had with Stark Industry's current board, I highly doubt I'm getting the job.

Not that I am overly fond of being someone's personal "slave" (assistant, technically, but I'm a little dramatic), let alone Tony Stark's. However, if you knew first hand how much money he makes a year, and what he's willing to pay, you would apply for the job too. Plus I'm pretty good at organizing and scheduling if I do say so myself.

I walked down to the designated cafeteria after the horrendous, awkward, stumbling over my words interview. They probably think I'm an idiot. I find myself a good looking salad and a quiet table to sulk by myself when I forget a very important ingredient by the counter. As I whip around to return to my seat, I am caught off guard when I bump into another body and spill the seasoning all over the other person.

I catch a glimpse of the man's face and I immediately pale. I crashed into none other than Tony Stark. The man I was applying to be working for. I am horrified. I cannot believe I just did that. I start to apologize profusely.

"I am so sorry, Mr. Stark. I didn't realize you were right there, I'm not usually this clumsy. I'm so sorry." I reach over to help him dust off. He smiles and crouches down to pick up the offending container and hands the shaker back to me.

"Don't worry about it. The board told me you would be down here and I wanted to congratulate you myself." He grins widely. "You got the job, Pepper."

I furrow my brow in confusion and he points to my hand. I look down to the pepper shaker I basically poured all over him. I sigh.

First hour of the job and I already have a nickname. Great.