Disclaimer: if I owned Iron Man or anyone associated with it, I'd probably still write fanfic, but then it wouldn't be fanfic. It'd be canon. Lucky for the Iron Man 'verse I'm on the outside looking in. Credit Stan Lee, Universal, Marvel, and whoever else for intellectual property. Credit Jon Favreau, Mark Fergus & Hawk Ostby, Robert Downey Jr., Gwyneth Paltrow, et al for bringing them to life.
A/N: Okay, I already know that some of you have read this. This is a story co-written between myself and 4persephone that she originally posted through her profile. However, during one of the times that this site was doing maintenance and upgrades, that file got corrupted – missing sections of text, strange formatting, etc. She deleted that story along with a few others until she had time to review and edit them. Needless to say, my 4persephone doesn't have a whole lot of free time. However, I have all our original files, and so am posting them under my profile.
For those of you who've never read these fics, please enjoy.
The day she kissed him was a day very much like any other.
The day she kissed him was the day she arrived to work early. He came up from the shop at six am, and found her already at work in her office with her computer in her lap. Well okay, she wasn't so much working as she was sitting and watching the sun rise, as if she were totally unaware of the multitude of emails that were sitting in her lap. He remembers it now because she was wearing a black, flowing skirt and a top that was more colorful than her norm at the time. Her shirt was new as far as he knew – something soft and lighter toned than she normally wore at the office. The jeweled green highlighted her eyes and left her complexion looking just a little pale.
She smiled at him as he walked through the door. "Good morning, Mr. Stark," she said to him softly when she saw him, and then she went back to her typing without any further comments or obligatory words.
He'd forced himself to leave her and go into the kitchen, but he hadn't been able to deny the prickles that ran up the back of his neck. That had been the beginning...like tremors looking for an epicenter.
On the day that she kissed him she failed to bring him his usual cup of 10 am coffee. He realized this at about 11:30 am when he started getting a headache and realized that he was getting caffeine deprivation jitters. He went upstairs looking for the coffee pot, only to find it empty, and Pepper nowhere to be seen. He went looking for her then, because he simply couldn't not. He found her standing out on his balcony about ten minutes later with her clipboard under her arm and a quiet, unmistakable look of fragility on her face.
That look stopped his heart, made it almost impossible to breathe. He pulled open the door and was out there beside her before he even consciously noted his change in position. "Pepper?" He asked the question carefully as he stopped eighteen inches away from her. It was closer than he normally ventured and he half expected her to give him a lecture on respecting other people's personal bubbles.
She just turned to face him, though, with patient eyes and lips quirked up in a smile he didn't quite understand. The delicateness that had been there only moments before disappeared in that heartbeat, to be replaced by a calmness that was almost a little eerie. "Ms Potts… I…Pepper?" He asks it almost as a question. He's not sure what he's asking, only that he needs to have some kind of clarification. He sighs, runs a hand back through his hair and finally settles on, "You're …something is…." He sighs. "Are you...are you okay?"
She looks at him a moment, and tilts her head. A small smile cracks her lips and then she's crossing to stand in front of him on well-soled feet. "Too soon to know," she says, and then she's leaning forward and pulling his head toward her own and kissing him like she's had the privilege for years. About a minute later, she finally pulls back. Her eyes search his face, and her smile is actually a little whimsical… "I need to run an errand for the rest of the afternoon. If I go, can you be trusted to go to your board meeting or am I going to have to yell at you for playing hooky tomorrow?"
He doesn't know what to say. Though he wants to say a thousand things. He wants to tell her he's confused and he's scared and she can't go and change the entire scope of the universe the way she just did for him.
But her face is calm and her eyes are gentle, and looking at her he knows that she needs him to nod. And so he does, and she reaches out and cups his face in reward. "I'll bring in donuts for breakfast tomorrow," she promises softly, and she steps back into the house.
He watches her go and tries to find language skills again.
Pepper leaves at 12:37. He knows the time exactly, because she heads out of the house through the garage and leaves him a plate with a cut up apple and a sandwich. He hadn't realized he'd forgotten to eat until the sweet-salty smell of chicken and cashew salad finally registers in his brain. "I'll see you tomorrow," Pepper tells him softly. "Though just to warn you, I might be a little bit late…I'll email you if I am."
He studies the red of her lips, the curve of her figure, traces the line of her hip with one hand, and is shocked when she doesn't protest. "Are you okay?" he asks again softly. The question makes his voice crack as she tilts her head a little and regards him thoughtfully.
He sees her pause for a moment. "It's too early to call. Tomorrow, Stark. We'll talk about it all tomorrow, I promise."
And then she just leaves, climbing into her Audi. She puts on her seat belt and backs out of her space. Her car makes its way up the graded ramp and into the sunshine, and he realizes he's ten seconds away from screaming. So he puts down his wrench, and he heads for the upstairs. "Jarvis, I want you to pull me up the last eight weeks of Pepper's schedule."
He doesn't know what he's looking for. He'll only know when he sees it. It takes an hour of looking before he finally catches it. In the last two weeks she's had no less than six scheduled out of office appointments with someone she has listed as D. Tanabe. "Jarvis." He taps the latest appointment with his right index finger. "Find this guy in her address book please, and get me a number."
It takes about thirty seconds for the AI to comply, and with a trembling hands he makes himself dial the number. The voice on the other end is female, calm and a little bit harried. "Hello, this is Beth. You've reached Metro Oncology."
The receiver falls from his hands and remains there long after the voice on the other end turns to a dial tone. All in all it's almost two hours before he begins processing anything again.
An e-mail comes in around nine o'clock that night. Pepper is sorry but she can't see making it into work tomorrow. Nothing to worry about, she's quick to reassure; she's just nauseous and a little tired. Nothing a little sleep won't fix. She promises to bring donuts on Thursday. That's enough to get him off the floor and into his bedroom. He walks into the bathroom, looks in the mirror and tries to tell himself not to panic.
Tony doesn't actually go to sleep that night. Neither does he stay up all night working on some project. He's just...awake. Waiting. He actually makes it to six in the morning before he can't take being alone with his own mind anymore.
A little knowledge is a dangerous thing, and this is threatening to leave him helpless.
He gets ready, dragging out his shower and the rest of his morning routine because he knows that he's going over to Pepper's house uninvited, and she's going to have every right to kick him out, and he's not really looking forward to admitting that he checked up on her behind her back. But not going to her never even occurs to him as an option. All that he knows is that if Pepper's in trouble – if she's sick, or... – then his only real choice is to be at her side.
He tells Jarvis where he's going and he locks up the laboratory. It's a measure of his AI's social protocols, that Jarvis doesn't once try and stop him.
"Might I suggest flowers, sir...or something of the like? It is customary for people to bring well wishes to their friends and sickened colleagues."
He pauses as he unlocks the door, and then mutters softly, "She's not my friend." And then he slides into the seat.
"As you say, sir. It's also customary for males of the species to bring gifts of some sort to their mates," Jarvis says just as Tony reaches to close the door. The statement stays with him all the way to the turnpike, and every time he tries to deny the truth of what was implied, his head starts pounding enough to make him want to scream. He isn't prepared for this, isn't sure he wants it. But some things apparently, have nothing to do with what he wants. He pulls off about two blocks from her house, buys soup from a deli and then goes looking for flowers. The only kind he can find though, are at a gas station, and they're already fading.
He leaves them behind, refusing to wonder why he can't bring himself to bring anything near to her that's on its way to being dead.
He pulls up in front of her house, and suddenly it's hard to get out of the car. He doesn't know what the hell he's doing. While that usually doesn't bother him, it does now. Pepper deserves better than some half-assed attempt at being cared for.
Tony considers banging his head against the steering wheel, like it'll help jumpstart his brain, but ultimately decides against it. Instead he pulls out his cell phone and hits speed dial. It takes longer than usual for Pepper to answer her phone, and in an attack of nerves Tony almost hangs up. But this isn't middle school, and Pepper's phone has caller ID besides, so he stays on the line. He's composing his message in his head when Pepper picks up.
"Tony?" She sounds groggy and...pale. "Didn't you get my e-mail?"
"Do you prefer chicken soup or beef with barley?" He looks at the two cups beside him.
The woman on the other end pauses a moment, and then answers softly. "I prefer the chicken, actually."
He nods and picks up the cup, finally stirred out of this terrible lack of movement. "I'll be over there shortly. Make sure you've hidden any underwear that you've got lying around somewhere out of sight."
"I'm not in the habit of leaving dirty laundry in my kitchen." Tony can hear fabric rustling. "When are you going to be here?" She yawns into the phone but she doesn't try and stop him from coming over though, which he decides is probably a relief.
"About twenty seconds," he informs her bluntly, climbing up the stairs and rapping firmly on her front door. The woman on the other end makes a squeak of outright surprise, but about twenty seconds later she does meet him in the entry. She's pale and using the door as a prop, and though it's nearly ten in the morning she's still dressed in pajamas which he knows because she'd just tossed her robe on and not actually closed it. In all the years he's known her, Tony's never seen Pepper less than perfectly coifed by eight in the morning at the latest. Today she looks like she's barely dragged herself out of bed.
She's wearing silk...of a light mint green. Short Capri length pants and a not too clingy top with an edge of lace at the top. It's the most feminine thing he's ever seen, and would have left him almost gaping in lust if he hadn't also seen the horrific bruise covering the length of her entire right arm
"Tony..." She hasn't seemed to notice that he's distracted by her bruise. "I don't mean to sound rude, but I'm not up to guests right now."
"I'm not a guest," he informs her bluntly. "What happened to your arm?"
He sees her blink, and then she sighs a little. For a full minute and a half she glares like she's trying to find a way to kick him out of her house, but then she caves. "It's called an infiltration – basically the vein they tried to put the IV in first was so weak it exploded." Se turns from the door then, and motions for him to follow. "So what kind of chicken soup are we talking...with or without noodles?"
She leads him through the entry into a room like nothing that he's ever imagined seeing.
Pepper's house is old, one of those turn of the century ones with big porches and two stories and floors that creak. Tony had been expecting dark wood paneling and just as dark carpets and furniture.
What he sees is golden oak floors and pale blue walls. One wall is floor to ceiling windows, another floor to ceiling books and all the furniture in between is in shades of sand and mocha and all of it overstuffed. There's plants in the corners – not silk but live, which he knows because one or two are drooping like she hasn't been home enough to get around to watering everything. The mantle above the fireplace is anchored with vases at either side and instead of flowers each holds a beta fish. In between are framed pictures of people he assumes are family.
Houses like hers shouldn't be light and airy. They're supposed to be stately and convey great age. But Pepper has turned her house into a haven wrapped in a shell of proper decorum. Kind of like the woman herself.
He whistles under his breath. "Remind me to have you do my next round of redecorating."
Pepper smiles just a little, and then she simply rolls her eyes. "You never answered my question...noodles or rice." She exits out one door at leads him into her kitchen. "Are you hungry, by the way? I don't have donuts, but I think that I've got half of a homemade cherry pie if you want it."
The kitchen is much like the living room, cool neutral colors along with brighter splashes of green. The one free wall not covered with cookware has large photographs unlike anything he's ever seen.
One is a beachscape at sunset, with a surfer stomach down on their surf board, paddling in the direction of the camera. The other is a long stretch of sand with a pier in the background. There's an old man and a baby both walking barefoot down the beach.
"Interesting shots...a new artist?" He'd never imagined she'd be a collector of photography.
Pepper only raises an eyebrow. "No. A professional didn't take them. Only me." She looks...shy...when he glances at her with surprise. "We all need hobbies, Tony." The smile she tries to give him is weak, and once again he's struck by how pale and out of order she is.
He hands her the soup. "Chicken noodle. Why don't you get back off your feet? You're looking pretty pale and I'd prefer not to have to pick you up off the floor."
"And they say chivalry is dead," she mutters as she accepts the soup and pulls a spoon out of a nearby drawer. Then she shuffles back into the living room and sits down on the couch. It's so overstuffed and covered in throw pillows that it supports her without any effort on her part. "What are you doing here, Tony? Not that I don't appreciate the soup, but I know you have other places to be today."
"When do you get back the results of your biopsy?" His voice is quiet, but he asks because he can't not ask, as much easier as that option might have been.
Pepper swallows, and then sets her soup down on the nearby table. "How long did it take you to figure that out?"
"I pillaged your calendar. The same name kept coming up. It's not like you safety lock your rolodex." He forces himself to sit in the chair beside her, instead of crowding in next to her on the couch like his instincts are screaming for him to do. "You didn't answer my question. Do you already know the results, or will it be a few days before you get the pathology reports back?"
"They thought they might know by this evening. Sometime tomorrow at the latest. They were looking for a second opinion, just to be extra, extra safe."
He nods a little. "Eat your soup." He can't take his eyes off the pale line of skin between her pajamas and her bathrobe. He's never considered a woman's shoulders all that sexy before, but this woman's skin is as pale as fresh milk and dotted with an abundance of freckles.
Pepper obeys, flipping the lid off the soup he'd brought. "I don't suppose this is a good time to tell you that it's rude to be snooping?"
He tilts his head and shrugs a little, regarding her with more than a little irony in his eyes. "Then you shouldn't have kissed me like you were saying goodbye. It's not exactly the best way to stay under the radar. I mean yes, I'm a little dense, but given enough information I generally sort things out."
"Yesterday was...yesterday," she says carefully. "I was having a hard time, but I'm sorry if –"
"I'm not angry that you did it, Pepper. I'm angry you did it then." He raises a hand to massage the tightening muscles of his eyebrows. "It was not the way I would have chosen to figure out I've fallen in love with an impossible woman again."
"Impossible?" There's a touch of irritation in her voice, but then Pepper kind of shrinks back into the couch. "Again?"
"People like you are not supposed to exist. You're too much of a unreachable benchmark for those of us actually bound by our humanity." The statement should have sounded sarcastic, but it didn't, and Tony's face is serious. "And yes – again. Senior year. Amanda Parker was a fellow classmate when I was attending MIT. She was a brilliant scholar and a die hard idealist. Joined the peace corps just to piss me off I think…" He sighs and rubs his eyebrow. "She died in Guatemala six months later. Apparently some local drug cartels weren't as fond of her as I was." He shrugs. "As I said...impossible, Pepper. Impossible not to want and impossible to actually be."
Pepper doesn't know what to say to that, or even if she should say anything. But Tony's quiet and seems to be focused on something other than her room and the present. "I just...needed to," she eventually says.
He nods a little. "I understand. But don't ask me to pretend it didn't happen." He shrugs. "I don't need to be in charge of the next twenty-four hours, Pepper. I just need to be able to see you...I promise to stay out of your way, just don't ask me to leave."
"Tony..." She's about to ask why he thinks she's going ask that, but then she remembers. "Oh." And the anxiety she'd been able to put out of her mind since coming home yesterday starts to creep back in.
And then she is shaking and then she is crying, albeit without a sound. Because six weeks is far too long for anyone to bear this much alone. Even if alone is the only way she's ever known how to be.
After a moment or so, the couch cushions shift and she can feel Tony lay a careful hand on her right shoulder, like he thinks she might not want his company. For a genius he can be an idiot, and to prove it she curls into his side and wraps her arms around his waist as she cries out the tension that's been riding her. By the time it's done she's not just curled up at his side, but halfway draped in his lap as she clutches him desperately. And he smells like home, which is ridiculous because this is home, and yet he's everything even these walls of sanctuary can never really be. And before she's consciously realized it she's unbuttoning his shirt. Because she wants...no she needs skin contact. Needs to be part of humanity. Because he's right, in some horrible ways she is an impossible human. And she'd give her right arm – her whole life in fact – to be anything else.
"Pepper... Pepper, stop." Tony carefully wraps his hands around hers even as she struggles to get to the next button. "What are you doing?" God, this is what he's wanted for months now, but not in this way. Not while she's blinded by an uncertain future and acting without any show of reason. He wants something real, something that is not going to be a source of stress to both of them after they get the results later today or sometime tomorrow morning.
Pepper's desperate though, in an all too human way. "Please, I need." She actually pleads, though she's not even sure what it is that she's asking for. "My god, why doesn't anything touch me? Am I that…?" She can't find the words. "What's the matter with me?" And she cries because she hurts and because she's so tired of it all. She's tired of the distance and the isolation she never asked for. Because being independent is not the same as being free. And the artifice is killing her. Eviscerating what remains of her world slowly but surely.
And so she tries again, pulling her hands back. The words are hard to form, but she forces them out. "I just want to touch you," she whispers. "I'm too miserable for sex right now, but I'm sick of feeling alone in my own skin." She presses her face into his chest. "I know it's a lot to ask under the circumstance, but would you please at least just hold me?"
And that Tony can handle. That is something else entirely. "Where's your bedroom?" he whispers after a moment, earning a look of confusion that makes him smile tenderly. "This couch is comfortable Pepper, but that doesn't make it big. Show me where we can both really stretch out, so you can get some sleep."
She doesn't give an answer because she's uncertain of what she wants. It's just that her, and him, in a bedroom...and these kinds of things have consequences. Yesterday she'd kissed him in one of her moments of peace, when her mind had essentially been on autopilot to save her the drama of counting down the minutes until her biopsy. And he'd looked so lost and so miserable that she'd kissed him because there'd been no question that it was the right thing to do, that it'd been what he'd needed and she wanted. There'd been no before, and no after, and no outside world.
But now she is lost in the possibilities of afters and confused about what she wanted and what he needed and whether it would be good for them later. She doesn't know how to redraw the lines, especially since she was the one to bring their walls down. And she's just so tired and exhausted that even what she wants seems a fingerbreadth out of reach.
"I..." She tries to put this into words, but then apparently the man whose lap she's in seems to read her expression completely, because he shifts her the last few inches until she's spread across his lap.
"You said you wanted skin," he informs her gently, and then he rises from the couch with her in his arms. "I'm willing to give you as much as you can handle, assuming you know the offer is strictly PG. Just no making fun of my cartoon themed boxers, Potts. They're an old gag gift from Rhodey."
She just holds onto him and tries to stay calm. "I don't know what I'm doing, Tony," she warns him. "I'm not even aware of what I'm doing half the time."
He shrugs a little as he carries her down the hall. "It'll be okay. I'm better at punting than you are anyway." And then he's found the door of her room, stepping out of his shoes before they even get to the bed frame. He lays her carefully down on one side and goes to work on his clothing. Less than a minute later he's in bare feet and boxers, which, in accordance to his early warning, actually have Eeyore on their back. She smiles a little at the sight, and he wags a finger in her face. "One word about the donkey, Potts, and I'm cutting your salary." Then he drops into bed and lays down on his side, holding out one arm in what is clear invitation. "Grab a blanket if you'd like to wrap yourself up, though as I said, PG only."
Pepper looks at him like she's let something dangerous into her house, though she knows the danger isn't physical. She trusts Tony to keep his word...and to keep it even after today if she needs him to. But she just doesn't know....
'Screw it.' Who cares? Either she has all the time in the world or she doesn't, but that has nothing to do with the fact that kissing him yesterday was the right thing for her to do for him, and holding her today is the right them for him to do for her. Whether she has just today or unlimited tomorrows, this is right, and she wants it. So she inches across the bed until she can tuck herself against him, her head pillowed on his arm. Her hands creep over his skin until one arm is draped around his waist and the other around his neck. Then she sighs deeply and relaxes into his heat. Tony responds by throwing his upper leg over the curve of her calf. His fingers find the juncture of skull and neck and press down firmly, massaging the overly tight flesh. She gasps a little as muscles she didn't even know were knotted start to relax under the pressure of his hand.
His voice is quiet. "I'm not hurting you am I? I can't see where you're bandaged..." She responds by pulling back her robe just enough to show him the piece of white fabric that's doting her hip.
"Bone marrow check...as an extra precaution. The lump they found needed further examination...they sent it to an outside facility." The skin she's shown him is red and swollen from the sheer size of the needle. It doesn't hurt much right now though, just a dull throb of pain. She presses her nose into his shoulder, shivers a little at the sheer relief of skin on skin. She tries to remember the last time she allowed herself the luxury, and finds she can't recall a face much less any kind of name.
And it's Tony, this time. Tony, who snooped in her daily planner, and probably didn't get a wink of sleep all night, and who brought her soup because that's what you do when your friends get sick.
Tony who she can always trust with the truth even if she doesn't trust how he'll react to it. And so she pulls down her shirt front, just the tiniest bit. It's enough to show him the other piece of gauze that is on her left breast. "It might be breast cancer," she whispers, so quietly she can barely hear herself. "Maybe not, and if it is we caught it amazingly early...but the doctors aren't taking any chances."
"They shouldn't," is his firm reply as he shifts his leg off of hers, apparently leery of irritating her hip. She wants to ask him to put it back, but she can't find the words.
"My mother died of the same when I was eleven." Just saying the words made something in her ache. "Given the family history I guess I should have coughed up the five hundred dollar fee and done the genetic screening like my friend told me to."
"I assume they're doing the screening now?" Tony asks as he continues his massage. Somehow his hands manage to bring more pleasure than pain, despite her quivering shoulder muscles.
She's crying again she realizes. Not sobs as much as a slow steady trickle down her face. "As part of the bloodwork, yes, I imagine. But most health care plans as a rule don't cover it as preventive care. And those that do...well if you take the test and it comes back positive, they can use it as a reason to increase your monthly fees." She snorts a little. "Want to hear something funny? An ER doctor found this in a routine history and physical when we were checked out after Obadiah blew up the plant. Stane trying to kill me may have actually saved my life."
"Stane failing to kill you saved your life." Tony wraps himself around her because this is all a lot to handle. "I'm not sure I can really let myself think about that, Pepper."
She understands completely, but it doesn't stop the flow of words. "This is partly my own fault, I hadn't been checking myself as carefully as I should have been. It's just been so busy lately...and it's not like anybody else ever gets the chance." She chokes, a little awkwardly, "I mean, God, how pathetic is my life? The closest I've come to sex in six years is a more than normally conscientious instructing doctor who asked me to let his student do a full breast exam." She shakes her head, "All I can say is thank the lord for pugnacious interns and teaching hospitals."
"I hope that intern was female," Tony mutters, trying to squash any sort of imagery her words bring up. This is neither the time or the place for either reaction – jealousy or lust.
"One of each. But the guy could have been our grandfather's age. He'd lost his own daughter to undiagnosed cancer about three years before." She shifts forward, a little closer, unable to release a groan at the sheer bliss of his skin. Tony smells phenomenal; he smells like life. "He only came in to consult after his female student found the lump."
"Okay." Tony tightens his grip without her having to ask him. It's a little bewildering how well he can read her body language – how he seems to know when she's okay and when she's starting to come apart. "How are you feeling, other than tired and lonely?"
"Sore," she admits. "And still a little overly emotional. That anesthetic they gave me yesterday didn't just make me numb, it left me disconnected and foggy." Or that was what she'd told herself as a means of self comfort the last three times something absolutely random had made her burst into tears.
"Is it slowly getting better at least?" he asks, though he doesn't want to hear her say it isn't. He's still… Well, thinking would be bad now. Thinking would lead to worrying, and worrying to the same panic that had shut him down the day before.
He needs Pepper to be well. He's beginning to realize that all he really needs is Pepper. The effective way she carries out her job is secondary to the way her job brings her in contact with his life. Just being here in this place is a strange kind of comfort that almost doesn't bear contemplation. He shouldn't be this thrilled for a chance to just hold her, not at this point, and not under such horrendous circumstances.
But it doesn't change the fact that some part of him sees this entire position as more right than any other one he'd ever been in.
"Depends on what you mean...how long have I been getting sick from anesthetic?" She shrugs. "To be honest, I've never had to have it before, so this is the first time. The doctor says it's normal though...lots of people with my hair and skin tones end up pretty sick...something about our body chemistry." She rubs her nose almost unawaredly against the skin of his chest. He shudders and cups the back of her head. The urge to kiss her is strong, but it's also...new. He doesn't want to kiss her as prelude to sex, but as reassurance, as connection, a way to tell her that he's here in a way that his words and his actions haven't. The instinct to step in and support her, hold her up or even carry her if necessary, is hard to ignore. And because of Jarvis's parting remark, he's beginning to wonder if he even should.
There is something...right...in the concept of having a mate. It seems to imply more than sex – though that's certainly implied. But it also carries a connotation of exclusivity, solidarity...unity. Their lives are almost unified as it is. He wonders how seamless it might be to complete the process. Would they even remember what it was like before? He already can't remember what he'd ever done without Pepper.
Can she remember what she'd done before coming to work for him?
The woman in his arms though, seems unaware of his thoughts. She's silent and breathing deeply, and her hands are on his skin. They don't stay in any one spot all that long, he realizes, though he suspects the gentle mapping of his chest and back is less deliberate than it is an act she's undertaking unconsciously. Something about what she'd said earlier started sinking in. Had is really been six years since she'd touched anyone intimately? The thoughts makes him shudder in sympathetic empathy. He can't imagine that kind of self segregation. If it has been him in her place… Well maybe she's stronger than he is, because the skin starvation would have probably driven him crazy.
"What do you think of?" she asks him out of nowhere, though her voice does nothing to
dispel the sense of intimacy settling over them. "When you look in the mirror and see this, what do you think of?" Her hand slides over his reactor, then comes back down to settle on its' surface. "Is it...does it hurt to look at it, or has it become part of you?"
"A little of both," he admits after a moment. "It's like a scar and a lesson all in one."
She raises her head to look at him in slight confusion, and he shrugs himself. "Call it a walking calling card for my past behavior. Every time it seems like it might be easier to revert to my old behavior patterns, all I have to do now is look in the mirror and get a visual reminder of where exactly it got me."
His fingers weave through her hair, play with the ends. She rests her head against a pillow and tries to look at the reactor objectively. "It's not...disfiguring," she finally says. "I mean, it is because of how it came to be there, but at the same time... You're so preoccupied by and so much a part of your machines that it almost makes sense. For you." Her hand pulls back and brushes over the patch of gauze on her breast. She looks... thoughtful. Like she had on the balcony the day before.
He's not sure what to say. He's never been in these waters. His own hand is itching to reach out and touch the bandage himself, but he's not sure he can do so and not be completely out of line. He settles instead for consciously slipping his hand under her robe and placing a warm hand on the skin just above her bandaged hip. Pepper continues speaking, almost dreamily. "You know, I remember how I couldn't stop staring when Mom came home...she looked so different and yet exactly the same." He doesn't think she's with him anymore, doesn't think she's really even talking to him. Instead she's thinking words he can't bring himself to, like chemotherapy or even mastectomy. "Of course that was over twenty years ago. Doctors know more now. And they're pretty good at reconstructive surgery." Her arm is still around his back, and her hand is rubbing the patch of skin between his shoulder blades in slow drags.
Then her lips quirk and she shakes herself a little. When she looks at him again she's no longer focused on the past. "Why are you here, Tony? And I know it wasn't because you had an undeniable urge to buy me soup." The question is direct, and entirely normal. She might as well be standing across from him at the mansion asking why he'd missed yet another of his rescheduled meetings.
"Jarvis called me your mate today." The words come out in a rush. "Considering the panic that keeled me over when I first called Dr. Tanabe's number, I can't deny that he's right." Tony shrugs then a little. "When your mate is threatened, you protect them. Maybe I can't change whatever you test results are going to be, but I can make sure that you don't have to wait and worry alone..."
She nods at that, quiet but accepting. In return he pulls her hand carefully away from where it's still resting against her chest and gently opens it so that he can press a kiss into her palm. "What were you thinking? Yesterday when you kissed me?" he asks against her skin.
"I wasn't thinking anything at all," she admits softly. "I was just letting myself stop and be." Because she hadn't known so much...so much had been beyond her control, and she'd been hardly able to think about it. Until the moment when he's stood beside her and asked how she was with traces of terror on his face, she'd been stuck. And then she'd suddenly known that if she was going to get through whatever was coming alive, it would only be because she'd started living her life.
Something inside Tony, some barrier, falls at her words. That the woman she lets herself be is someone who would kiss him, would let herself be touched by him, is affirming. He brushes his lips against the pulse in her wrist, and with terrible gentleness over the bruise marring the delicate skin of her forearm. He can't say that he's displeased when Pepper responds, though he promised he wasn't going to push her. But the leg she slides against his and the way her pulse jumps a little under his touch is just the quiet reaction he needs to eventually pull back.
Tony wants to cherish her in a way that their relationship has never allowed. And that means not rushing her when she might be vulnerable. It also means keeping his promise that he'd keep things PG.
"Tony, what would you do if I asked you to kiss me?" The question is so soft he can barely make it out, and the woman in his arms is starting to shake. She looks at him with tired eyes. "Because I'm just sick of it all....so weary of keeping up the guise."
"Well, I suppose it would depend on why you were asking," he replies just as softly. "Because now that I realize what I've been missing, I'm not sure I can kiss a woman who doesn't love me as I love her." He cups her face and she turns her head to kiss his palm in mirror of his own actions. As something inside of him quivers he hopes she doesn't call his bluff; he would make love to her and never regret it. If she needs his body before she can give her heart, then he'd willingly love her until she could trust him with herself. And he'd be the first to admit that she has so many good reasons not to trust him.
The woman in his arms goes still, and for a heart rending second he's afraid she's going to pull away. After her reaction up on the roof at the benefit and before the press conference, he knows very well he's a fool to expect anything more than a gentle rebuttal. When Pepper finally raises her head though, she manages to surprise him. Her nose wrinkles up in amused disbelief. "Tony, if you don't know by now that I'm already in love with you, I'm not really sure I can find a better way to say it. I mean for God sake, I cried when you came back, and jokes aside, you have to know I don't show that kind of vulnerability unless I can't stop it." The words are quiet and a little bit ironic. His face radiates a kind of shock and she sighs a little as she waits for his reply. She didn't know why it had to come across as a surprise, short of the likely but not particularly heartwarming thought that he didn't read her very well.
This had always been their disconnect she acknowledged: he tended to read everything she did as disapproval, when in truth it had been as much the opposite on more than one occasion. She'd loved him for years without his knowledge, until the practice of being silent and covering all traces of the emotion had become habit. And now even when they both need more, she doesn't know how to step out of her role as the master of subtlety. Words, real words are just so hard... They've never been nearly enough.
Pepper watches as the shock fades from his face, leaving something…clean…behind. It's as if her words have washed away something heavy he'd been carrying, or cleansed some kind of film that had been growing between them. What's left behind is masculine, and tender, with eyes that crinkle at the corners as he smiles at her and only at her. "Well, then that makes it another matter entirely, doesn't it, Pepper?" The smile she offers back is shy but genuine. "Do you want me to kiss you, Pepper?"
She chuckles. "If didn't, would I have asked?" Okay the question had been a bit... metaphorical maybe. But the man was a genius, and perfectly capable of taking a well worded hint.
"Probably not, but you're not usually so vague when telling me to do something," he teases as he pulls her closer. With one arm around her waist he cups her face with the other hand. Then he returns the kiss she gave him the day before. It's soft and undemanding, and more of a comfort than anything else.
"You can lead a horse to water..." she whispers, when they finally pull apart several seconds later. "But Tony, sometimes, as much as it may surprise you, I really prefer to not use the riding crop."
"Really? Because I'm always intrigued when you do." He grins as he nuzzles her cheek. She can feel his chest expanding against hers, as if her scent is as pleasing to him as his is to her.
"Tony, stop telling me about your kinks for now. Just go back to kissing me." She doesn't wait for him to initiate this time, but instead reaches up to cup his neck as her lips cover his.
This kiss is longer deeper, and involves a lot more tongue, and in between them both she can feel the swelling heat.
Tony luxuriates in the heat between them until he starts to feel need. It's a subtle shift between enjoyment of the moment and anticipation of the near future, but he recognizes it and pulls back from the kiss. His arms remain just as tight around her though, because he has no intention of letting go. It's just..." He sighs and rubs her back. "I promised you, Pepper. I promised a PG rating, and you said you were still feeling groggy and sick."
She groans a little against his chest. Because he's right and she knows it, but she doesn't want to care. For once she just wants to be selfish and impulsive. To be as "possible" as he is on a regular basis.
But she can't push this now, and not just because he won't let her jump into something like this impulsively. This isn't just about respecting her own limits, it's also about respecting Tony's. She knows he's a better man than he gives himself credit for, and she knows the need to do things in an honorable way is becoming more and more important to him. She can't ask him to be something different than he should be even if it means another round of fighting off the hunger in exchange for the lingering promise she could sense in his skin.
Besides, he deserves a partner who's in control, who's not high strung and groggy.
Tony shakes his head as he sees the thoughts play across her face. "Get some sleep, Pepper. Give the meds time to work out of your system." He kisses her forehead then sighs deeply. "A nap sounds good, actually. Later maybe...when we're both in a better place. We can revisit this topic again."
She doesn't think that she can sleep this wound up, but she'll try. It shouldn't be too much to ask that she put his needs first, not if she honestly loves him.
They have time, she acknowledges to herself. Even if they aren't strictly lovers yet, the world has still changed. They both made what amounts to a promise, and now they just need to wait till the other's in the place they can act on it fully and without regret.
So Pepper backs down and nods in acceptance. But she's only human, so she also tries to accept her limits. "I think I need to roll to my other side...take the pressure off my incision." Of course the price for that would be a throbbing hip. There'd been a reason she'd slept on her back last night. But she'd take the pain, if it meant she got to keep his warmth and the feel of his breathing pressed up close against her back.
"Of course, Pepper." Tony allows her to roll over without ever actually taking his hands off her. Then he shifts carefully behind her so that he's spooned against her. His hand rests on her stomach, and his thumb brushes back and forth idly, without purpose. Then he sighs and moves his hand just under the hem of her top and rests his fingers against skin. Again he sighs, but he sounds content. She closes her eyes and waits for his breathing to change. Waits for the slumber she knows is lurking to claim him. It doesn't take long. Between his own obsessions and his panic over the state of her health, he hasn't slept in over twenty-four hours. She has less luck of her own, but then that's hardly surprising considering the state of her world.