"For a man with a heart condition," she teased, tapping the thinly glowing cover of his arc reactor through his shirt. "You should probably eat less donuts, but I'm sure we could order them in, if you want them." In spite of the shrapnel in his heart, (and his less than exemplary eating habits), Tony was in good shape. It had never been her place to restrict his diet anyway.
Pepper pressed her forehead to Tony's, laughing softly at his words. "We're completely dysfunctional," she said quietly. "Even our turkey's a lush." There was that word again, 'our'. But in spite of the fact that they argued frequently; that she was the one he listened to, but didn't always do what she said; that their lives were perhaps unhealthily intertwined, the the exclusion of almost everyone and everything else - there was also something about them that just worked. It always had; it was the reason she'd been working for him for so long. They were good together, and kissing him, looking at him, holding him and remembering more intimate moments in their recently altered relationship, Pepper had to agree with Tony's words. "But we still do it better," she nodded. "We're a great team."
Lifting her knee as his hand found it, she hooked it casually over his hip. "You do like to keep moving, don't you?" she murmured, idly trying to pick out a song on his shirt, upside down. A smile pulled at the corner of her mouth as her hand slid down from his neck to rest on his chest. "Ideas..." she repeated playfully, drawing out the last sibilant consonant. "Most people watch football on Thanksgiving," she said. "So I hear. But I think we've already determined we're not most people."
"There're Christmas movies, food, tree decorating, um..." Pepper frowned. "You know, to be honest, I have no idea what normal people do for Thanksgiving." She went quiet, feeling serious, but keeping her tone light as she again used 'that' word. those words. "I guess if we're going to start our own traditions, we'd better make them up as we go along."
Pepper tried not to look as intimidated as she felt. After all, they'd known each other for what felt like forever; why shouldn't they have a few traditions of their own? "So," she kissed him, gently. "What do we want?" Hesitating, wondering simultaneously if it was a bad idea, or if she was pushing her luck, she felt her hands twitch nervously as she added as casually as possible, "And as long as we're at the negotiating table, what about Christmas?"