#pepper potts

Natasha chuckles, turning to grab her mug. She cradles it in her hands, leaning her hip against the counter. "It's been nice, though. Having company."

"You know you're always welcome at SI."

"Not sure Stark would agree."

Pepper raises an eyebrow, teasing, "It's not like he gave you a room in the Tower or anything."

"More of an entire floor, last I heard."

"Which you have yet to step foot in."

"I'm not great at being in a place for long periods of time. Especially when other people are staying at the place and have expectations of me staying there, too." Natasha gives a half-hearted shrug, as if it could ease the gravity of the implication. "It's a whole thing."

"Well, you're still welcome regardless. No matter when or how long you end up staying."

Natasha traces a languid finger along the rim. Her focus is elsewhere, but Pepper still feels the warmth of her stare in the silence, a wordless assessment that weighs less like a verdict these days and more like an opportunity.

The space between them rests differently now, unlike in the immediate aftermath of the Natalie Rushman days when tensions were high and Pepper had been too busy seething at the betrayal to put much thought into anything beyond her, admittedly, not-so-nice thoughts.

But after everything, Pepper likes to think they're past that point and well into the area of friendship where enjoyment in each other's company is expected, and where neither of them benefit from trying to pretend otherwise.

Whatever Natasha manages to see must be favorable because a small smile rises to her lips, softened in the morning glow. "I could stop by every so often," she says—not hesitant, because no one has ever accused Natasha Romanoff of being unsure of herself, but there's a cautiousness to the admission, as if she expects the extended hand to be retracted at a moment's notice.

"We could make it a thing," Pepper offers.

"A thing?"

"Taco Tuesdays. Workout Wednesdays." She idly taps her finger on the counter, the tip of her nail clacking against the polished wood. "I don't know, Trivia Thursdays?"

"Is that even a thing?"

"It can be. If you want it to be."

Natasha takes another sip of her coffee and nods. "Then it's settled. We have a thing now."

"Perfect." Pepper grins. "I happen to know a place. Dark, dingy, and the beer is terrible."

"Never took you for the rough and gritty type, Potts."