It didn't take Tony Stark long to notice his new PA's love for shoes. Every day she showed up, he swore she had on a new pair. High, short, smooth black leather, beige fabric, pointed toe, round toe, polka dots; you name it, she probably had it.

They also hurt like hell when they hit you in the side of the head.

"Potts!" he'd shouted from his office, and she'd walked in a moment later, her pointed black stilettos clicking against the floor as she did so.

"Mr. Stark?" she asked attentively, crossing the room to stand before his desk.

"I need you to research someone for me," he requested, and she nodded, her pen ready to copy down whatever he needed.

"Of course; who is it?"

"Her name's Amelia Truscott," he stated, pressing his fingertips together as he swiveled aimlessly in his office chair. "Blonde; rapturously beautiful; I met her last week at some meeting in Georgetown."

"That meeting was with the president, sir," she said with a heavy breath. If he was going to remember something, you'd think he'd at least remember that detail…

"Yeah, yeah, yeah; annoying voice, grey hair, cares too much about the explosives I can offer him; whatever. Amelia. Search her. Request that she meet me."

"Alright, fine," Pepper said with a sigh, turning to go.

"By the way," he called, making her stop. "Nice shoes."

"Oh." Glancing down at her feet, she grinned. "Thanks. They're Italian."

"Italian? I'm paying you better than I thought."

Rolling her eyes, she shook her head and walked over to her own desk a few feet away from his office. He was impossible. She deserved just as much money as he made just for dealing with him and his whims every day…

Glancing down at the name again, Pepper sat down in her desk chair and went to work typing it in, blinking with surprise when she got her results. There had to be some kind of a mistake. This couldn't possibly be the girl Tony wanted to meet with.

Amelia Truscott wasn't a scientist, or a CEO, or even a member of national security, as she'd thought she would be.

Amelia Truscott, age twenty-three, was an extremely overpriced stripper. According to her bio, she would "make you scream like a banshee", "catch your money like it was on fire", and "was a fan of exotic roleplaying".

Gritting her teeth, Pepper continued to scan the multiple pages, convinced it had to be a mistake. No one was so disgusting as to get their assistant to book them a play date. But, surely enough, there wasn't a single option for Amelia Truscott that wasn't this girl.

"Tony!" she shouted at the top of her lungs, and he glanced up from fiddling aimlessly at his desk with one of his vintage model cars.

"What?" he asked, blinking when she walked in quickly with her red curls practically sticking up and bristling with her rage, "Something wrong?"

"You… you… you…!" Fumbling for words to say, she made a noise of angry frustration and pulled one of her shoes off, hurling it at his head. Not quick enough to duck, having never expected her to do so, Tony cursed loudly when the heel hit him square in the forehead.

"Shit, Potts! What the hell?"

"You wanted me to book you a date with a stripper?" she yelled, clenching her fists as she tugged the other shoe off, throwing it, too. This one hit him in the shoulder, and he hissed angrily.

"Yeah! So?" he yelled back, not seeing the fault in his actions. Wasn't it her job to book his appointments?

"I'm not going to book you a stripper!" she retorted, staring him down as she stalked forward. "My job is to handle your business affairs, not your personal affairs, Tony!"

"Your job is to do what I say," he grumbled, glaring right back. "And that's Mr. Stark to you."

"Mr. Stark," she snorted, shaking her head. "If you're allowed to call me a spice, I can sure as hell call you by your given name."

"Says who?" he asked immaturely, and she practically hissed with fury, shaking her head. If only she had more shoes…

"Says me!" she snapped, and he crossed his arms.

"I beg to differ. Now, go call Amelia."

"No."

"Pepper, I swear…"

"It's Virginia!" she shouted, and he leapt to his feet, throwing his hands in the air.

"I don't care! I'm your boss, not the other way around! So stop giving me orders, or you're fired!"

"You can't fire me for not booking you a stripper," she scoffed, and he glared.

"Try me. As for this," he growled, picking the shoe up off his desk, "I could press charges for abuse!" Tossing the shoe back at her, it zoomed past her head and into the wall, hard. Pepper winced when she heard a snap, slowly turning around and forcing herself to open her eyes and survey the damage.

There, on the floor, lay her brand new shoe, the heel snapped clean off. It was destroyed beyond repair. Trembling with pure rage, she slowly knelt and picked up the pieces, her eyes snapping up to her boss.

"Save yourself the trouble," she hissed, shaking her head, "I quit!"

"Good! Maybe now I can get an assistant who actually assists!" he quipped back, and she glared as she rose to her feet.

"And those were Italian!" were the last words she said before slamming the door to his office shut and stalking out of the building, shoeless, her feet bare save her stockings.

Glaring out the window, Tony watched her go, his brown eyes narrowed. Good riddance. Shaking his head, he walked back over to his chair and sat down, staring at the door. For a long time, he just sat there, the only sound in the room being the ticking of the clock on the wall behind him. He'd started to get used to the sound of Pepper typing outside the door, and it was almost eerily quiet without it. It took about forty-seven minutes before he started to feel guilty for his behaviour. Sighing, he cast his gaze down to the shoe that still lay behind his desk, the heel chipped from being thrown. Wincing, he absently rubbed his head. She had a good arm.

Taking a deep breath, he rose to his feet and picked up the shoe, crossing the room and dropping that, and the scraps of the other, in the trash before he walked out the door, shutting off the lights as he went.

… . … . … . … . … . … . … . … . … . … . … . … . …

"Pretentious asshole…" Pepper muttered angrily as she sat at her kitchen table, highlighting help-wanted ads. This wasn't exactly how she'd planned to spent her Friday night. Currently she was dressed in a faded old blue t-shirt and a pair of cotton pajama pants that matched. She was sat in her small apartment, the clock ticking on the wall across the room reading eight p.m. Another hour and she'd give up; settling in to watch re-runs of Grey's Anatomy until she passed out on the couch. As much as Pepper Potts liked to get dressed up, she truthfully lived a very lonely life. Her father, who had been in the CIA, was killed in a shooting a few years back, and her mother took to drinking not long after. She and Pepper had fallen out about it, and the two hadn't spoken ever since. Being an only child, talking to siblings was out, and she never really gave herself the time to make friends. Yes, Virginia was very, very lonely…

This was why she nearly jumped out of her skin when a knock sounded at the door. She'd paid all her bills in advance; who could it possibly be at this time of night? Was the building burning down?

Getting to her feet, she crossed the room and entered the hall, quickly walking to the door and glancing out the peephole. She proceeded to release a groan of annoyance, unlocking the door and pulling it open.

"You've got to be kidding me," was the first thing she said, scowling at the man before her.

Looking rather sheepish, Tony Stark gave her a faint smile, taking in her pajamas and messy ponytail. It was certainly a change from the prim and proper attire she typically wore around him.

"I… uh… came to apologize," he stated, his hands behind his back as he awkwardly rocked back and forth on his heels. "I shouldn't have asked you to do that for me, and I shouldn't have threatened to fire you."

"I quit," she reminded him, shaking her head as she crossed her arms over her chest. "But continue, by all means."

"Continue?" he asked, raising an eyebrow with surprise. "What else did I do?"

"You were a cocky asshole," she stated, her face placid, "and you broke my shoe."

"I'm always a cocky asshole, so I can't always be apologizing," he reminded her, a slight grin pulling at his lips. Rolling her eyes, she moved to shut the door in his face, and he quickly stuck his foot in the way to stop her.

"Wait, wait, wait!" he objected, and she scowled as she swung it open again.

"What?" she all but shouted, wincing when someone next door shouted, "Shut up, Potts! My kids are sleeping!"

"Sorry!" she called, and Tony gave her a small grin.

"I brought you a peace-offering," he stated, pulling a hand from behind his back, dangling a shopping bag in front of her face on his index finger. Her eyes widened when she saw the logo, and she quickly snatched the bag from him, pulling out the box and yanking it open, ripping through the pink tissue paper and releasing a startled gasp at the sight before her.

"You bought me Jimmy Choos?" she squeaked, pulling one of the expensive shoes from the box and examining it. It was black leather, open-toe, and at least six inches high with gold-studded trim on the back of the heel. They had to have cost at least $500. Her blue eyes widened further when she glanced at the sole only to find "Pepper" printed in ornate lettering.

"Custom Jimmy Choos," he stated, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. "I would have had them sooner, but the print took a few hours and…"

Trailing off, his eyes widened when the woman, who was still about an inch taller than him even without her heels, threw her arms around his neck in a tight hug.

"They're perfect," she stated, grinning widely when she pulled back, her cheeks turning a bit pink. "Thank you, T- I mean… Mr. Stark."

Waving a dismissive hand, he gave her a lopsided grin. "Call me Tony. But, on one condition."

"Oh?" she asked, and he nodded.

"I get to call you Pepper. Besides; it's on your shoes. It's official."

Releasing a laugh, she shook her head and looked down at the shoes again. "I guess it is," she stated, smiling up at him. "Alright, fine. You can call me Pepper. I don't really like Virginia, anyway. It always made me feel like a grandma."

Smirking, he stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets. "It is kind of a grandma name… Besides; Pepper Potts kinda has a ring to it."

"It does," she agreed, leaning against her door frame.

After a moment of pleasant silence, he finally spoke up again. "So… you still wanna be my assistant?"

"Do you promise to be mature?" she asked, and he snorted.

"As if." Noting her raised eyebrow, he sheepishly grinned again, "But I promise to deal with my own strippers. Deal?"

Shaking her head, Pepper gave him a grin in return. It was better than nothing. "Deal."

Bidding their goodbyes, Tony walked back to his car with a goofy grin on his face. For some reason, he'd felt happier than he probably should have when she'd hugged him. Plus, she smelled really nice… like honey, oddly enough. It was intoxicating…

After he was gone, Pepper tossed the newspaper in the trash and spent the rest of the night modeling her new shoes. She didn't take them off all weekend.

Or for a solid year after she came back to work for him.