"I can't make any promises," Tony admitted with a wry grin. It all worked out, though; they survived it and the worst of it was over. Like pulling off a band-aid. Besides, they had champagne and they had each other, so what was a little bit of work? Tony glided around Pepper's desk to sit himself on it in front of her and pour her an abundantly full glass, encouraging, "Hurry up, you gotta finish this," with a chuckle and the bottle raised to her, and, "Don't worry, I'm driving." No sense wasting a good bottle on a single glass. They were celebrating. And, maybe, if Pepper was a little tipsy and a little less inhibited than she usually was marching around this office with her controlling lash on the whole workforce, she would be able to admit how they both knew she felt about Tony. They were supposed to be married, for God's sake.