"I know, I know." Tony Stark folded his arms, then casually tossed aside the filthy, oil-soaked towel after kneading it into a ball. He called this kind of life debugging: living together, making coffee in the morning, sweeping the front steps, and dumping all work-related matters onto the CEO he had appointed himself. "I've already handed the relevant authority over to you. You have the right to answer this call, Pepper." He clapped his hands, and the garage door automatically closed, concealing whatever he had been building. "I'm fixing the lawnmower. What could possibly be more important than that?"
"It's the Pentagon." Pepper Potts spoke expressionlessly. "Also, I saw you smear engine oil on your arms, Tony. If I had any common sense, I'd know a lawnmower doesn't need that much oil. Unfortunately, I do have common sense."
"I'm just making a few minor adjustments to the armor." Tony Stark gave an awkward laugh. "You know, I have a lot of inspired ideas. It's just a little experiment, Pepper. Nothing dangerous."
"If living together in the countryside is boring you, you can go back to the lab." The tension on Pepper Potts's face eased, only for her to frown again. "I didn't tie you down here, Tony. Your genius brain is only taking a break here for a while. That doesn't mean I'm asking you to withdraw from all research and development work. I'm not asking you to make that kind of sacrifice. All I ask is that you stop wasting your time catching street punks—actually, you can do that too, but don't run off to the Middle East or somewhere again. It's been a long time since the last Alien Invasion. You should relax a little, shouldn't you?"
Tony Stark waved a hand.
"We can discuss that later. Let's