She searched his eyes for any sign that he was humoring her, but what she found there was anything but. Pepper grasped his hand again and leaned over to fish under the couch for the shoes she'd worn there - her toe-shoes, the only ones that currently fit her. Finding the satin ribbons and yanking on them to make sure she had the pair, she gave him a nervous smile, as she stood and pulled him toward the stairs leading down to the workshop.
The large, usually empty area that made up part of his lab and was reserved for bigger projects was the perfect space. She also liked that it felt more enclosed here; this was Tony's sanctuary, therefore, she felt safer if she was going to be more exposed. Sitting on the floor, she slipped her shoes on and laced them tightly, wiggling her toes to make sure the fit was exactly the way she wanted it.
At first she avoided eye contact, but the more she spoke, Pepper found herself seeking his eyes for... she wasn't sure. Her childhood hadn't been bad; she hadn't been neglected or abused in the classical sense of the words, and her family had loved her. Yet part of the reason she didn't talk about it was that she knew others couldn't possibly understand it, and they'd be right. She didn't want Tony to understand; it was ridiculous. She did want him to accept that it had happened, and to stay with her in the moment.
"The girls I grew up with didn't dance," she said, flexing her foot. "You took dance lessons when you were little to learn grace, balance and the classical dances, but that was it. We had very specific futures mapped out for us, and there was no room for superfluous things."
Standing, she tested the shoes, pushing up on her toes and, holding onto the wall, tentatively doing a few leg lifts. "I was good - at a lot of things, since they were training me to be uber-wife - but dancing came to me so easily. My father loved the idea that he had some kind of prodigy, and it became something of a selling point for me. 'Not only can she make an excellent Beef Wellington, she can also dance Giselle!' He was trying to be proud of me, but love always comes out weird when your daughter has a market value," she laughed softly.
"But the dancing was never his. It was something he could never touch; something just mine. When I finally gave it up, it was for someone worthy of that sacrifice, and I've never regretted it." Pepper looked at Tony, pulling her hair back and realizing she had nothing to tie it with; she pulled it over her shoulder, leaving it loose instead. "So. Since I've got this chance to do it again, I was thinking that the only person I'd want to see it is you."
And then before she could chicken out, she wet her lips and said, "JARVIS? Would you play Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake, Act II, Odette Variation, please? And then will you play Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker, Dance Of The Sugar Plum Fairy?"
For a moment, she was afraid she wouldn't remember the steps. It had been years since she'd done them, but then the music started, and even if her mind had repressed them, her muscles remembered. With an ease that started even her, she sprang into the movements the tiny swan steps sending a flood of sense memory into her brain so that in seconds she did remember everything, and no longer worried, or even thought about the dance, just felt it; felt poor Odette, the character she was portraying, cursed to become a swan and never able to tell the prince of her plight.
And then that sad dance was over and the more joyful one - one of Pepper's favorites - began. It was one most people knew, sweet and playful, but with precarious timing. It had always made her happy when she was upset, and the fast turns were difficult and fun, leaving her with a sense of accomplishment whenever she finished. This time, she struck her final pose and only then did she remember her audience of one and why she was dancing, and though she blushed, Pepper still grinned happily.
She held out a hand to him. "Come here," she said.