A/N: I feel awful that I haven't been updating TLC as quickly as possible, mostly due to work and approaching project deadlines. I don't want to rush through that final story and sacrifice its quality just for the sake of updating often, which I'm sure most of you understand and would agree with, and I don't want to focus on it when my mind is not at its best (AKA: after a long day of fighting PHP, CSS, HTML and other web-building related junk). But I also need a medium to relax and recharge after a long day of work that would also benefit my Faithful Readers that have been more than patient with me and my crazy mind.
So, I bring this one-shot to you. I hope you like it and that it tides you over while TLC gets some… well… TLC! :P
Summary: He was going about it all wrong. He was a man of science, not of lovey-dovey feelings! Surely she knew that, right? Surely she would understand his methods being unorthodox. But what if she didn't? What if his methods hurt? There was only one way to find out: putting to practice the science of love.
Timeframe for this story: post Makluan invasion – about the beginning of June.
Standard disclaimer for all my stories: My stories are graphic, angsty, frustrating, filled with cliffhangers, drama and foul language. Read at your own risk – medical issues and subsequent bills are not covered by yours truly ;) If you don't like, please don't read. I appreciate reviews and constructive feedback but if you cannot stand the plot, save yourself and me some time and walk away. You don't have to love all IMAA stories :) I don't own IMAA. My stories are better viewed by using the "half screen" option of FFNET
The Science of Love
"I love you," Tony said, practically exhaling the words, and felt as if he was about to faint. He was almost without breath and gulped strong enough for his now very pronounced Adam's apple to visibly bob up and down his throat. His palms were sweaty. His heart was racing, threatening to beat out of his ribcage at any moment if he did not relax. His entire body was shaking, his mind was jumbled, and he could not make it stop.
"I love you, Pepper," he shuddered in near victory as he finally said the words. Those utterly important and life-defining three little words, attached to the name of his girlfriend. The words she deserved to hear from him after four months of dating and nearly two years of knowing her. The words he had been actively trying and dying to say to her for half of their time of dating. The words were finally out there. In the universe. A fact of life. Clear as day. The only snag to this fact of life, however, was that she was not around to hear them being said to her.
Again.
Tony ran his left hand through his mane only to feel beads of sweat clinging to his forehead, prompting him to repeatedly pull on the front of his t-shirt to bring in some much needed air. Was the Makluan Temple suddenly hot as hell? Or was it simply the fact that his brain and his body were functioning on overtime at rehearsing his declaration of love to his reflection in a mirror and, as such, he was using more energy than usual?
This is ridiculous, Tony pinched the bridge of his nose with his right index finger and thumb, his left hand now resting on his hip. It's not rocket science! And I can DO rocket science! This is… It's just… it's just…
Love.
It was just love.
L-O-V-E.
Love.
"Come to think of it," Tony said before throwing his arms in the air in a defeated gesture. "Rocket science is way simpler than this!"
He groaned and berated himself, annoyed at having failed – multiple times, thus far – at verbally and undoubtedly expressing his most deep and agonizingly mounting feelings to the redhead. He had thought it would be easy to do – he had sketched a solid plan of action after using the scientific method to test his theories, after all.
Nonetheless, every instance he had tried to tell her, his bravado had all but abandoned him on the spot. It had completely run out the door every single time he had opened his mouth to utter the important phrase. All it took to lose his swagger was staring at her eyes; those beautifully large and attentive hazel eyes of hers. Gazing at them made him melt to pudding where he stood and instantly lose about 200 IQ points, leaving him on the negative side of the bell-shaped curve. He was reduced to a babbling idiot when she stared at him like that: full of hope and admiration and who knew what else lurked in those brown pools of her inspiring soul.
A babbling idiot and a mushy poet, Tony thought with added frustration. What the heck is the matter with me?
If anyone became aware of how many ways and how many times he had pondered and had tried telling Pepper that he loved her since he became aware of it – little over a month after they had started dating, they would probably advise him to simply give up by now and pray that Pepper suddenly turned psychic. He had attempted every method he had come across. He had even resorted to the cheesy and overly done actions he had once scoffed at when he had witnessed their undertaking by the valiant male protagonist in numerous chick flicks, and his efforts had been all for naught.
Chick flicks, for crying out loud!
Oh, yes: Tony Stark, genius billionaire extraordinaire, had watched all sorts of romantic comedies for pointers on how to proclaim his feelings of love.
He had viewed them intently, researched them thoroughly and had even taken notes. He had designed and relied upon a decision-making flowchart to guide his conclusions. He had devoted three full days to coding the first and only love declaration simulation software from scratch, analyzed the potential outcomes, adjusted his action plan based on the new findings, and had even recorded himself saying the words over and over again while changing his tone, pitch, posture and verbiage just to make sure that the message was crystal clear and pleasing to both the inner ear canal and the eyes. Everything looked perfect in writing. The theory was sound. The simulations gave him an initial success rate of ninety-two percent; then of ninety-seven point eight five percent; and finally, on his third try: one-hundred percent.
Why, oh, why, then, did it never happen the way it was supposed to be?
The first time he had tried saying it, he had not been at all prepared to, so he had blamed this complete fiasco on trying to improvise on a subject of such superlative importance. It had been a normal day at school, a few days after he had come to the irrevocable conclusion that he was in love with his ginger, and he and Pepper had been alone on the roof of the NYTA during their free period. She had asked an important question and, distracted as he had been at the moment, he had given the incorrect response.
Iron Man business was a lot easier on them now since he did not have to lie about constantly having to go to the bathroom and since most of the major villains were either down for the count or otherwise indefinitely out to lunch. Therefore, their free periods during their last months of school time had been rarely interrupted by superhero duties and had been mostly spent chitchatting, reading or cramming for a test.
Sometimes – a handful of times to date, in fact – they had just simply held each other in silence the entire free period. A silent Pepper was almost unheard of, a rare status of the uncommon breed Tony was certain she was, but they had in some way managed to sit on the ground, their backs against the concrete ledge, their hands intertwined, and had just enjoyed the feeling of physical contact between them. They had not even had to make out on any of those times on school grounds, but that did not mean that they had not made out already.
As it so happened, they had done that, for the first and only time so far, just last week in the Makluan Temple, the day after graduation. Date night had ensued and Tony had decided to surprise Pepper with a late night picnic. Making out at the end of their date could certainly be described using all varieties of encouraging adjectives: unexpected, exhilarating, tenderly slow, gentle and sweet (and all of their clothes had stayed on, as they had been careful not to get carried away). Afterwards, they had just lain on the roof of the temple, staring at the stars, holding each other close in the dead of night. It was a mystery to Tony, but there was just something comforting about holding her head to his chest while she rubbed circles on his stomach that he could not yet explain the origin of.
These now sporadic superhero occurrences, however, were a double-edge sword for the genius since, as part of his hyperactive and ragingly energetic teenage life, Tony's options to let out some extra drive were compartmentalized to: completing mediocre assignments in school – something that he would not have to do until college started; spending manly-activity time with Rhodey by playing video games; going out on dates with Pepper…
Or, as it had been the case that day of his first unplanned attempt at stating the L-word: putting his size 11, iron-clad foot into his apparently pint-sized mouth.
Pepper had just asked him if the plan was for the two of them to go together to their senior prom – even though they had been weeks away from it. He had not been listening to a word she had said and had instead been reciting the infamous phrase in his head, picturing how and when he could finally say it aloud. When he had been confronted with a questioning look and a light poke to his chest, he had felt as if he had been caught red-handed: as if she had, by hook or by crook, read his thoughts.
Yet, when he had then remembered that she could not, his deer-in-the-headlights look had grown more pronounced. It had not been until then, when Pepper had continued staring at him while she had waited for his side of the conversation, that he had tried remembering what she had been going on about. Had she asked a question or had she made a joke? Had she been expecting him to laugh, cry or something else entirely?
Why had he not paid even a little bit of attention to her?
Out of options and ideas, and with the clock ticking fast towards the end of their free period, he had uttered the first response that had come to his head.
"Of course not!"
The startling response made her flinch.
"Oh," Pepper stated, obviously crestfallen. "Well, that's that. I guess."
Tony panicked almost instantly when her vibrant eyes dulled and her arms pulled away from his waist with the obvious intention of leaving him alone on the roof.
"I'm sorry, Tony," she whispered. "I know you don't like school activities. Forget I even asked, OK?"
He furrowed his brows, immediately missing the heat of her touch on his skin, and he all but pulled her by her right arm back into his embrace.
"Whoa, there, Pep! What just happened?"
She could not even look at him and instead silently stole almost furtive glances at the door.
"Pepper, I'm sorry," he shook his head. "I-I wasn't listening OK? I… I don't know what you just said."
The redhead's saddened face instantly changed to one of annoyance and she pulled away from him.
"That's the third time in two days, Tony!" she yelled, gestured the specified timeframe with her fingers and then began angrily stomping towards the door. "I know I talk a lot but… but now you're ignoring me during our off period, too? If you wanted to be left alone today, you should've just told me!"
"No, Pepper, that's not what it is!" he chased after her.
"Sure seems like it!" she screamed over her right shoulder.
"But it's not!" he argued with equal urge, exasperated that he could not make himself tell her the truth about his exponentially rising and overwhelming feelings for her.
"Oh, no?" she challenged, turned around in place, crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. "Then what is it? What's so important that you've lost interest in what I have to say?"
Tony opened his mouth to respond but no sound came out so he pursed his lips. He then tried again, this time after gulping and pulling on the collar of his shirt. The word "I" made it out, but the "love you," never did. Instead, when he tried a third time, a completely different sentence made it to his lips.
"Have to go to the bathroom."
"What?"
"I have to go the bathroom! Jeez!"
And he had left her there, alone on the roof of the academy, livid and confused.
Tony rubbed his face with his palms at the recollection of said events. It had taken him days to make it up to Pepper and for her to wholly forgive him for that.
That dreadful incident had only been the beginning of his long, futile journey to come clean with her; to tell her what had really been crossing his mind that day and every day since. Yet, any chance he had had of doing just that, an even more ridiculous phrase had erupted instead.
"I… need to sneeze."
"I… need to throw up."
"I… equals the squared root of negative one."
That last one, as clever as it had been, had almost earned him a slap, as he had made that statement right after Pepper had just finished reading to him her acceptance letter to Empire State University – the one college she had wanted to go to but had feared would reject her application – and she had asked him what he thought.
Back to square one.
Or was it "i" squared?
Not now, Stark!
The inventor groaned once more and made his way to the kitchen. Now that school was over and he had nothing to do until September, he had been killing time at the lab, sprucing it up and making it more like a hero hideout/ bachelor pad. At Rhodey's request, he had installed a standing shower. At Pepper's request, he had installed a laundry room, a mini-kitchen and a snack bar.
Popcorn bag in hand, Tony headed to the microwave and angrily thrust the bag into the appliance. He slammed the door shut, set the timer and then repeatedly hit the floor with his foot, eyes directed at the spinning bag yet not truly focusing on its slow expansion. His mind was once more far away, or back in the past, listing all the instances where he had blown his chance to tell Pepper what was in his heart.
Valentine's Day, Spring Break, his birthday, her birthday, Senior Prom and even Graduation Day. All perfect times to tell her, all perfectly screwed up by his less-than-perfect mouth. He was not even sure how he and Pepper were still together after all these hiccups, if he were downright honest with himself. He had, for the longest time, circumvented the topic of the crush he had known she had on him. He had overlooked the fact that his blood had rushed to his head when she had asked him what was stopping him from kissing her after finding out who Shockwave and Force truly were. Hell! The circumstances of their getting together in the first place after the Makluan invasion had not been the most romantic either, to say the least!
He had never officially asked her to be his girlfriend – he had just begun speaking of her as such a couple of days after the Makluan had been dealt with, and no one had ever complained about it. Their outings had not been referred to as dates either until the third movie night. Handholding had only become common after two weeks of dating when, while walking her home from school, she had almost fallen into an open manhole and he had grabbed her hand to keep her from meeting Hades, and he was yet to let go of her hand when together, ever since. Their first kiss had taken them three weeks of dating, and it had been initiated by Pepper at the end of one of their dates.
The expression of feelings had never come easy to him, at least not when directed at and/or in regards to girls, since he had not been around women in general long enough to understand how the genders differed. The closest he had been to having interactions with women had been his mother, but she had not been in his life a significant amount of time to provide him with a reference for this situation. Then, he had been around Whitney, but Pepper and Whitney were polar opposites, and he dared not use anything he had learned from Whitney with Pepper. There were also Trish and Roberta, but he did not want to add more people to the ever-growing list of individuals that were privy to the information that Tony Stark did not know how to be the perfect boyfriend.
This innate inability to convey feelings was one of the reasons why being with Pepper was so easy. She already knew his flaws and had seen him at his worst, and yet she still wanted to be with him. She knew he was not good at this, but she managed to make the best out of it. He was cognizant of the fact that she did not expect him to get down on one knee and recite poetry to her, but she did blush when he would casually tell her she looked pretty in certain outfits. It was common knowledge that she did not see him obsessing over how to sweep her off her feet, but she still gracefully accepted and thanked him for the random occasions he had given her flowers or candy, or any other random gift he had just happened to see and had reminded him of her.
The timing of all of these actions appeared to be within an acceptable range, seeing as neither of the two had a plethora of experience in the dating field. But even he knew what this next step meant. It was not as serious as a proposal or as intricate as sex, but informing your significant other that you loved them was something that even he was mindful was a game-changer in any relationship – especially if said too soon… or too late. Or, in his case: in the most horrible of ways.
He wanted it to be impeccable. To be something she would not forget. He refused to allow for this monumental phase shift of their lives to be what everything else had been up to now: a happy accident; something that had just happened to ensue and had not been questioned, and had thus become the norm. He wanted to make it memorable for her. He wanted for her to revere the striking moment as much as he treasured her.
Thus, his scientific approach to love declaration had begun.
He rubbed two fingers on his forehead when he felt a headache coming to him. He and Pepper had a date tomorrow night: their first date out of the city, state, country and continent. It had taken a lot of convincing for Virgil to allow the young genius to take his daughter to Paris, and he had only accepted because they were going to come right back. Tony had wanted to make it a weekend affair, leisurely travel the Old World for a few days, but Virgil had only allowed a 24-hour window for that.
Twenty-four hours sounded like an adequate amount of time to tell one's girlfriend that their heart beat faster because of her, all the while standing under the Eiffel Tower in the iconic city of love. Tony just knew, though, that he would manage to mess it up. He just could not understand why he was having such a difficult time doing this – it came as natural as breathing to people less smart than he was. It just did not make any sense that his advanced brain was hindering the process rather than helping.
The beeping timer of the microwave snapped him back to reality. He opened the small door, carefully took out the bag in his hands, shook it a few times for good measure, and then opened it slowly. The steam did not deter him from taking a handful of the popcorn and shoving it into his mouth, and while chewing on it with determination, he voiced the phrase one more time.
"I love you, Pepper."
"You haven't told her yet?"
"AAAH!"
The contents of the bag spilled all over the place when Tony ripped the bag apart at hearing coming from behind him the voice of someone he had not expected to encounter this early in the day. Not even his hair was spared of the salted and buttered popcorn goodness sticking to it, and when he turned around to face the incomer – his left palm on his chest to mandate his heart to get back on track – Tony was face-to-face with none other than a blatantly mocking and smirking James Rhodes.
"Don't you people ever knock?!"
"When has that ever been a procedure around here?"
Tony shook his head and turned away from his friend, unable to come up with a reasonable retort to Rhodey's valid inquiry. The temple was equipped with a buzzer in case they were unable to recall the constantly changing security code and needed access to the location, but so far, the buzzer had only been used twice – and never by Rhodey, now that he thought about it.
"Fell off the bed?" Tony asked as he began sweeping the popcorn on the floor. Rhodey grabbed the dust pan and silently assisted the inventor in cleaning up the mess he had inadvertently caused, and in less time than it took for the popcorn to cook, the floor of the Makluan Temple was immaculate once more.
"Nah, just bored at home," Rhodey finally replied.
"Really?" Tony eyed him with suspicion while he washed the butter off his skin. "Are you sure that's what it is? Are you sure you're not here to verify that you won my dad's weekly bet, again?"
"Son of a gun!" Rhodey snapped his fingers, not really caring that he had been caught. "I mean, I love winning these things, but damn, man! Just tell her already! It's really not that hard."
"Says the guy with no girlfriend," Tony retorted.
"To the guy who didn't sleep with his own on prom night," Rhodey smirked.
"It's not a law, alright?!" Tony groaned.
"And telling your girlfriend you love her is not a punishment!"
"I know it's not! I never said it was!"
"Then why do you act as if you're being dragged to the electric chair whenever you're asked why you haven't told her?"
"I do NOT!"
"You do too!"
"No, I don't."
"Yes, you DO!"
"What do you know?" Tony patted dry his arms with a paper towel. "You don't even have a girlfriend!"
"And if it weren't for Pepper being so kindly weird, you probably wouldn't either, smart-ass!"
The look on Tony's face told Rhodey that he had gone too far with his response – that Tony had no need to be reminded of his shortcomings as a suitor. The genius's eyes closed, his shoulders sagged and he collapsed onto one of the stools in the lab. Tony then scratched the back of his neck with his right hand, shrugged almost imperceptibly, and then looked up to ashamedly stare at his childhood friend.
"I'm gonna tell her tomorrow. I hope. If I don't chicken out again."
"Paris?" Rhodey asked and joined Tony in the chair next to his.
"Yeah," Tony gulped.
"Look, T," Rhodey placed his right hand on Tony's left shoulder. "I'm not trying to be a douchebag here. I'm really not. But do you really think telling her like that, is the best thing to do?"
"What do you mean?" Tony narrowed his eyes, wondering briefly if another bet was taking place in which he again did not drop the L-bomb on Pepper.
"Well, think about it," Rhodey proposed. "What if you tell her and she doesn't say it back? Do you really want to put that kind of pressure on her? Do you really want her first time in Paris to be remembered like that?"
"Why wouldn't she say it back?"
Rhodey rolled his eyes.
"I didn't say she won't. She hasn't told me how she feels about you and I haven't asked her. But, if you're having so much trouble getting the words out, have you thought what may be crossing her mind? What if she struggles with it, too? What if she's not ready to say it and you put her on the spot like that?"
Tony exhaled loudly through his nostrils and sat upright. This thought he had not considered at all. All this time, he had been so focused on what words he would use, how he would say it, and when it should take place, that he had not taken a moment to examine the potential consequences of an untimely love speech from Pepper's point of view. He had simply assumed that Pepper would be ready to hear him say the words, no matter what, but just as he, she had been learning the ropes of serious relationships along with him.
"Do you…" Tony paused. "Do you think I should let Pepper say it first?"
"I'm not saying that either," Rhodey replied. "All I'm saying is that this really shouldn't be this hard. You don't have anything to prove to anyone, Tony. It's obvious that you love her, man. She probably even suspects you do, you know? Just… just stop obsessing over it. Let it happen when it comes natural to you, even if it's while waiting in line at the movie theater with her."
Tony considered Rhodey's words, internalized them, and then frowned. Telling Pepper tomorrow felt natural. Taking her to France, hugging her from behind while she admired the view of the city from the Tower in Paris and then whispering into her ear that he loved her, felt completely in line with their newly discovered romantic relationship style. Perhaps his scientific approach could not be used to its complete extent, and perhaps Rhodey's advice of essentially winging it was not also entirely accurate. Perhaps what he needed was a healthy blend of both: a happy medium where he allowed the moment to occur naturally, holistically, even, and take his cues from her while making sure he implemented the perfect speech he had in mind – or at least a pretty close paraphrasing of it.
For the first time in days, Tony felt relieved. He did not need to take his flashcards with him to the event or endlessly rehearse his movements. He did not need to buy expensive gifts for her to heighten the expression, even if he had the means to do so. He just had to be himself with her. That was what she had liked of him, and that was what made sense to do for the next phase of their bond. Maybe he could make it interesting for both and write the message in binary and give her the code to decipher. Maybe he could create a video game and have her play it, only for her to find out that the congratulatory message when finishing the final level of the game was a declaration of his love for her.
The possibilities were endless, his mind now expanded; yet some important decisions were at times made for us.
Tony's phone suddenly beeped.
He read the incoming text message, lowered his head in frustration and then exhaled.
"It's Pepper," he said with a defeated sigh. "She can't make date night."
xxxXXXxxx
She was burning up.
Her fever was so intense that he had needed to change the water a few times already since his arrival to her house. Virgil Potts had been on watch since yesterday evening, and he had even taken her to the emergency room at some point during the night – a fact that Tony had loathed not being aware of until now. Yet, the FBI man assured the troubled teen that his girlfriend was alright. That the doctors had cleared her of any major illnesses, and that the given course of antibiotics and orders for bedrest were all she needed to fully recover in the next few days.
Getting a text message from Virgil had been odd. Having said man allow him to stay alone in her bedroom with her while he reported to work, was a shock.
He removed the towel from her forehead, being careful not to displace the bag of ice on the top of her head, and proceeded to dip the fabric into the bucket of cold water he had by his feet. He wrung the towel to leave it damp but not dripping, folded it in half once more and then placed it on her face again. The move, while subtle, made her open her eyes briefly. When she finished focusing on his face, Tony gave her a small smile.
"Hey, Pep," he leaned closer to her and grabbed her right hand in his left while he kept his upper body propped up on the side of the bed by resting his weight on his bent right arm. "How's my girl feeling?"
"Tony?" she was barely able to state before an urgent wheezing attack overpowered her. He immediately helped her sit up in the bed, held her against him and rubbed her back until her lungs returned to normal. Once it was over, she shakily nodded her thanks to him, rested her forehead on his left shoulder and closed her eyes.
"I'm sorry… about our date…"
He snaked his left arm around her waist and with his right hand he brushed strands of red hair from her dampened face before he opted for simply combing her tresses with his fingers. "It's alright, Pepper. We can go out later, right?"
"Right," she responded. "I just… I just hope you didn't have anything big in mind."
It took all of his self-control not to inform her of his plans; not only because he did not want to ruin them for her, but because he did not want her to feel guilty for delaying his ultimate goal.
"Nah, don't worry about it. It'll be another time."
She pulled away from his shoulder and stared directly into his eyes, hoping to communicate to him how truly repentant she felt for ruining their date night plans. The skin on her cheekbones was red due to her fever, accentuating the light dust of freckles on her face. Her half-closed eyes glistened more than normal, being overly moist as a product of whatever infection she was currently fighting. Her lips were slightly parted to allow some extra oxygen to seep into her system, and she held onto his upper arms for dear life to keep the spinning room from winning over her lowered sense of equilibrium. Her hair was wavier than usual and slightly out of place, and her large pajama blouse allowed a tantalizing peek at her right shoulder and bra strap. All in all, she believed that she looked a little worse for wear, perhaps not in an adequate state to be seen by her boyfriend, but it soon became apparent to her that he did not care that her current state was less than ideal when he ran the back of his hand down her feverish cheek.
"I wish I could do something other than just seeing you suffer like this," he whispered to her, longing that he could make it known to her how beautiful she looked to him in this condition, and how guilty he concurrently felt that he was somehow relishing her features when she was plagued by an ailment.
Pepper closed her eyes and leaned the side of her face into his hand. He reciprocated by making his grip more pronounced in the form of gently cupping her jaw and brushing his thumb over her cheek. She exhaled blissfully and even smirked, inviting on him the appearance of a wider and content smile.
"You can stay… with me… until I fall asleep… and then be here when I wake up," she whispered back, unashamedly taking advantage of his generosity, a request to which his mind silently retorted: until the end of time.
Mushy poet or not, he meant every unspoken word.
"I can do that," he said instead and began helping her lay back down on the bed. "But you have to promise that you won't fight me to take the medicine, alright?"
A childish-sounding moan escaped her throat, one that was readily followed by a pouting look on her face and an even more childlike tone of voice. "I don't wanna."
"Then I won't stay," he debated in an even tone and she frowned.
"It tastes awful!" she argued, eyes still closed, her head finally hitting the pillow before Tony replaced the towel and the bag of ice to their rightful places on her. "And it makes my throat itchy!"
"Don't you want to get better, Pep?" he felt as if he were talking to a toddler.
"Yeah," she said despondently.
"Then you have to take the medicine, OK?"
Her throat made another sound of disapproval, but after a forced exhale and the opening of one eye to stare at him, she finally relented to his end of the bargain.
"Fine, but you have to make sure you don't leave until I really, really, really fall asleep."
"I promise," he said with a curt nod. "I'm not going anywhere until you don't even know I'm here."
"OK," she accepted after closing her eye and then pulled the blankets closer to her chest. "I'll take it now."
True to her word, she swallowed down the pills without complaint. True to his word, he held her hand while he watched her fall asleep practically immediately after the medicine was within her. He continued to constantly swap the towel on her forehead, and twice he had needed to change the bag of ice as well, but his vigil was voluntary and welcomed; very much so that it did not feel like a chore or a duty, but a privilege to be held.
He silently and openly observed and reclassified every curvature of her face as he licked his lips at the familiar tingling sensation coming from them. It had been the same feeling of nervous anticipation and fulfillment of a previously unknown goal of his: showering her face with his kisses. A goal he had achieved during their last date night. The night they had first made out.
The date had so far been perfect, and the wide smile on her face was worth every second of planning on his part. The opportunity of telling her that he loved her, in front of the entire school at that, via his valedictorian speech during commencement, had once more been thwarted by his anxiety. He could not help it that he had gotten tongue-tied at the last second. He could not help it that her smile made his heart stop beating for a second too long. But he could help making it up to her – even if she had no idea what he was making up for – by having a romantic dinner under the stars.
"That was delicious, Tony!" Pepper exclaimed, her right palm on her stomach. "Thank you so much!"
"I'm happy you liked it, Pep!" he said with honesty. "It took me a long time to cook it," he then joked and she shook her head at him.
"Sure it did, Tony," she playfully hit his chest and then gently pinched his cheek without so much as stretching her right arm to reach him. Their sitting position on the roof of the Makluan Temple, facing each other, made it easier for her to grasp the top half of his body that was mostly out of her range when he was standing upright. He loved that height difference in them, though. It made him feel as if he could keep her from the woes of the world by simply pressing her to his chest and covering her with his arms.
Tony watched her intently as her face suddenly lost all signs of the giddiness she had just exuded when her eyes trailed over the leftovers of their picnic. Save for a few lit candles around the blanket beneath them and the lights of the bright stars above them, they were almost in complete darkness. The present look on her face confused him – almost worried him that he had done something wrong, until she looked back to him and sheepishly bit her bottom lip.
"So," she tilted her head to the side. "What's for desert?"
"Oh!" he snapped his fingers and immediately turned around to reach over to the cooler nearby. "I almost forgot, Pepper! Thanks for reminding me!"
"Oh?" he heard her say before he returned his attention to her with a small cup of ice cream in one hand and a little spoon in the other.
"This ice cream is great! I mean, you know I'm not a fan of sweets, but DAMN, Pep! My dad brought some over last week from Cali and – HEY! What gives?"
Just like that, Pepper had pushed the spoonful of ice cream towards his face, and Tony now had a mini lump of the desert trailing down his lips and chin. He felt annoyed as hell, not seeing what was so hilarious about wasting this Godsend of an ice cream, but before he could voice his dissatisfaction with her actions of just now, she silenced him by slowly licking the ice cream from his chin and bottom lip.
He halted where he sat, afraid to move an inch as she slowly continued to clean the rest of his mouth from the frozen food, alternating said task with her eyes traveling up to his to measure his response to her bold moves. He only dared to swallow hard and remained still throughout it all, and when she finally stopped completely but kept her face close to his, it only took one seemingly innocent question from her for him to lose the little control he had over himself.
"Is there more?"
He replied by dropping both the cup of ice cream and the spoon, opting to have his hands hold her face instead. Her hands rested on his that were on her face while she simultaneously countered his slow yet fervent kisses. When she began sliding her hands up and down his forearms, he stopped their teasing trek and simply led her arms to lace around his neck.
The movement made it so that they were even closer now, and while the intensity of the kisses had not changed, he could feel his entire body reacting to her in a way that it had not done so before. His arms surrounded her back and appeared to have a mind of their own when they began alternating between staying on her lower back to sliding up her spine to her neck, only to then rake her skin on the way back down.
His hand-led exploration had begun in the middle of her back and soon thereafter it had led him to her sides, briefly giving him a chance to brush his fingertips against her breasts. She gasped into his mouth when she felt that intimate contact and she tensed, and for the quickest of seconds his brain was able to throw in a rational thought amidst the sea of hormones he was currently swimming in.
"Sorry," he uttered, almost as out of breath as she appeared to be and he rested the side of his face to hers, eyes half-closed. "I'm sorry, Pepper."
She did not immediately respond, neither in the negative nor the in the positive spectrum, and he thought that he had ruined the moment by taking it too far, too soon. However, as he took deep breaths to calm his endocrine system and he finally pulled back from her with the purpose of calling it a night, she surprised him by scrunching the front of his shirt with her fist to keep him from drawing even further away from her.
"It's OK," she whispered and her eyes glued to his. "I just… it's new," she gulped and gave him a slightly embarrassed smile. "Try again? Slower this time?"
He obliged.
He began by returning his lips to hers but, as she had just requested of him, he took his time rediscovering them – several minutes, in fact. His left hand pressed against her mid-back and his right hand held both of their weights as he gradually pushed her down onto the blanket. Half of his body was now on top of hers, and when he was certain that she had safely made it to the ground, he shifted gears.
His left forearm was the weight bearing limb now, while his right hand traveled from her neck down to her shoulder and then all the way down to her hip. His fingertips felt as if they were catching on fire whenever he encountered exposed patches of her skin beneath her partly rumpled clothes, and her moans only encouraged him to try other things. He paused for an instant to stare at her flushed face, which he knew matched his at the moment, and before he realized what he was doing, he bit her bottom lip ever so slightly to make her open her mouth…
And he then dug his tongue inside.
The contact was brief, almost repentant, but before he uttered another request for forgiveness to her, he decided to ask something else in its place.
"It is OK? Is… is that OK?"
Her response was to bite her bottom lip almost painfully so and then nod a couple of times, an inviting smile on her face, filling him with enough courage to go at it a second time.
At first, he had felt lowly and lewd to think of her like that, to touch her like that, mostly due to the fact that this was Pepper – his Pepper, and not a random, strange girl that was deemed only good for one thing. Until recently, and only after completing his own, clandestine and independent research, he had not been certain if lust was an acceptable sentiment in a serious relationship, or at all. He had not been up to the task of asking around about it either, lest people acquired the wrong impression of him and his intentions with her, and – heaven forbid: of her and her worth.
As smart, centered and respectful of her as he was, he was still a young, biological capsule of overactive hormones. He could not help it that sometimes his eyes lingered marginally longer than customary over the distinguishing physical characteristics that made Pepper a female, especially when she had on the Rescue suit. That damned exoskeleton clung to her like a second skin, and it highlighted her still-developing form in a way that no other piece of attire could.
Was it truly perverse for him to sometimes steal a glance at her body like that? To reach out to touch her for the simple sake of satiating a growing sexual desire for her within him?
Tony was not naïve, blind or in denial anymore to the redhead's impact on his carnal instinct, and he could tell that other males around them were also none of these things – Rhodey notwithstanding, of course, and simply because the genius knew that an annoying little sister was all that his friend saw in her. More than on just a few occasions, Iron Man had resorted to surreptitiously and forebodingly shaking his fist toward an overly thankful citizen or two that had just happened to make a suggestive exchange towards his girl while on duty. Pepper never encouraged or responded to said attempts. She was actually very good at brushing them off, in fact. But the blue-eyed boy knew she did not have to build on the indecorousness of their actions: that was, in reality, what made it – what made her, all the more alluring to him and others.
Pepper was naturally stunning, charming and downright adorable. Her tenacity, determination and sense of justice made her stand out in a way she was not yet aware of. This made her strikingly and inevitably attractive, almost comparable with the same pull a south-polarity magnet would have on an island filled with north-polarity lures. The thoughts that had sometimes crossed his mind regarding her and him together would make Pepper want to splash holy water at his mind and make Virgil aim a shotgun to his face.
But he knew that was alright. Those thoughts were just normal musings of a teenaged boy, and most of them would probably go unfulfilled and perhaps even be forgotten. His below decent fantasies about Pepper Potts did not diminish the validity of his feelings for her – as he had at one time feared. It was only natural and expected that he craved his girlfriend's body in the same way he craved her mind, heart and soul.
Natural, Tony thought with a small smile. It appeared as if his wise-beyond-his-years friend had been on to something with his counsel.
Realizing that almost two hours had passed since Pepper had fallen asleep, Tony stood up from the chair he had appropriated when he had set camp in her bedroom, pressed his palm against her forehead once and then walked out of her room, bucket of now warm water in hand. Virgil had mentioned to him, before he had involuntarily charged the inventor with his daughter's wellbeing, that the mix of pills she was forced to take was a blend of antibiotics and barbiturates, so Tony knew that she would not be waking up again anytime soon. This would surely give him plenty of time to refill the bucket with iced water, notify a concerned Rhodey of Pepper's health status, and text his dad the retraction of the borrowing agreement he had made for the use of the company's jet.
Paris would just have to wait, and so would his best and most feasible opportunity to make known his testimony of affection for the redhead.
Tony was staring at his feet when he walked into the living room of his girlfriend's residence on his way to the kitchen with the intent of dumping the unusable water into the sink, and he would have missed the returned presence of the owner of the home, now sitting on the couch near the entryway, had he not asked the one question that had been eating at the apprehensive parent.
"How is she, son?"
Tony Stark was startled for the second time on the same day, and he could not affirm that he liked the sensation of it. Although, this time, he could not ascertain what he was more surprised by: the fact that Virgil Potts had snuck up on him, or that he had just called him: son.
"Mr. Potts –Agent Potts," Tony corrected himself. "I didn't hear you come in."
Virgil gave Tony a tiny, knowing smile. "FBI agent, remember?"
"Right," Tony chuckled lightly and nodded. "She's a little bit better, I think. Her fever's gone down a tad. She took her medicine and she's passed out right now."
Virgil nodded to acknowledge the good news, and even though he remained silent as he followed with his eyes all of Tony's movements towards the kitchen as the teen poured out the water, the genius did not have to rely on his prodigal intellect to know that there was something else that was on the tired-looking man's mind.
"I'm sorry I just left you here with her," Virgil indicated, the statement catching Tony by surprised yet again. "I'll call your father to let him know where you were all this time and I'll apologize to him for just leaving you here without his permission. It was selfish of me to just assume you were available to watch over her."
Tony left the bucket inside the sink, dried his hands on one of the hand towels by the stove and then approached the living room to sit on one of the couches opposite to where Virgil sat.
"That won't be necessary," Tony stated with a shrug, his back hunched and his forearms on his knees. "You actually saved me the trouble of getting caught sneaking through her balcony window to see how she was."
It took Virgil a second to process the youngster's joking words, but when he at last did, the man could not help but laugh and to add his own take on the situation at hand. "Funny part is: I bet she would've done the same for you. She'd climbed that damn tall building of yours to your penthouse."
This time it was Tony's turn to chuckle, and he nervously scratched his right cheek with his index finger, hoping the heat that was currently rising to his face went unnoticed by Virgil.
"Maybe. Maybe not. The suit can fly, you know."
Another bout of light laughter followed Tony's response, but it ended too abruptly. The silence that followed the amusement, though, extended for agonizingly long minutes until Tony finally broke the uncomfortable moment with his next words.
"Don't worry about my dad, Agent Potts. He knows Pepper's sick. He knows where I am. He…" Tony hesitated. "He knows I'd be here even if you hadn't asked. Pepper's been there when I've been sick. It's only fair that I do the same for her."
From his peripheral vision, Tony could see Virgil scrutinizing him to practically a molecular level, probably bringing to the forefront his federal agent training. The billionaire remained calm and collected, however, as he knew he had nothing to hide or fear. Well, that was if no one counted his infrequent, yet lascivious thoughts of the man's daughter, obviously.
The second round of silence was longer than the first, but this time it was Virgil Potts who ended it.
"Thank you, Tony. I really appreciate you watching over Patricia. I… I had no one else to call. But I can take it from here."
"It was no problem," Tony insisted, not used to or expecting Virgil to appear to be so indebted for actions that Tony just assumed were the right thing to do. "I can stay longer if you need me to. It's the summer, after all. All I had planned for it is spending time with her."
"Still," Virgil began. "I know it's not your responsibility to do this for me, or for her. You two may be dating right now, and maybe you'll still be dating next month. But that doesn't mean it won't or it can't change. You may have been friends with Patricia for a while, but dating… dating is different. It changes things. And it's difficult to recover a friendship once you see that same person in a different light. And I'll understand, if and when that happens, Tony."
Tony's hands turned to fists, and even though his eyes did not instantly stare at Virgil's, the confidence that Tony felt was more than just evident in his tone of voice.
"I love her," the words flew out of his mouth with more ease than all the previous times he had practiced the say. "I love your daughter, very much."
It took Tony another brief instant to conclusively gather up the courage to face the father of his girlfriend, and he himself was shocked by his subsequent actions and statements.
"I know that to you, to protect her from me," Tony pointed towards Virgil, "my words will mean nothing. You probably even think that you know me. That you have me all figured out, and that you know how I think or what I want."
Tony interrupted his own speech to get up from the couch, walked over to the kitchen sink, and turned on the faucet over the bucket to allow the water to fill the contraption while he took out a packet of ice from the freezer, leaving Virgil to internally wonder when the young Stark had become so familiarized with his home.
"I know that you probably think what everyone else thinks of me: that I don't know any better and that once I go to college, I'll forget about her. But I won't. I know I won't."
The scientist poured the entire contents of the ice bag in the bucket, shut off the faucet and then carefully took the bucket out of the sink and carried it with him back to the living room.
"I…" Tony sighed as he began gesturing with his free hand. "I may not have any real experience at this, and the very little I have is practically worthless. But I don't need experience to know what I feel – how I feel, for her. You can laugh at me if you want, but the truth is that I love Pepper. Of that much I'm sure. And I promised her I'd be here when she woke up. So if you're politely trying to kick me out, you'll have to call the cops or arrest me yourself to do it, because I'm going to head back to her room, right now."
Virgil crossed his arms over his chest, rested his back against the couch and eyed Tony up and down, closer than he had done just moments ago. Despite the fact that Tony was fearful of Virgil's reaction to his little outburst, he stayed still, tall and proud – or as much as he could do so with a purple bucket of water in his hand. Now that he replayed his retort in his mind, however, he recognized how ungrateful, condescending and disrespectful he had sounded, and with utter dread he silently admitted the fact that Virgil had every right to kick him out of his house this very instant and perhaps even keep Pepper from seeing him ever again, if he so desired.
As such, and as a last ditch effort to stay in the agent's good graces if at all possible, Tony added a final afterthought.
"With all due respect, Mr. Potts, sir."
Virgil's eyes swept the boy's form one more time before he stood up from the couch and approached him. Tony had not realized how much taller the older man was compared to him, and even though he knew he still had at least a couple more years to reach his father's height, this last growth spur would have been even more welcomed and appreciated it if had happened just about now.
"Name's Virgil, Tony," the FBI agent said. "And I hope you know what you just got yourself into."
"I know what I just got myself out of," Tony dared to make a jest of what they both knew was nothing but the truth. "And that's enough for now."
Virgil chuckled, patted Tony's shoulder on his way to his room and then stopped on his way inside. He then looked over his shoulder, barely stared at Tony's retreating profile and then uttered a sentence that made the inventor groan.
"Oh! Please tell James that he owes me twenty bucks. And to give them to Howard for me. I think we're about even now."
Tony's head hung as he returned to Pepper's room, all the while muttering expletives related to how his family insisted on making money out of his unspoken feelings and thoughts. At least Pepper was not awake to hear them mock him. At least Pepper would only hear him state his love. Or at least, that was how he hoped it would turn out to be, for her sake and for his.
xxxXXXxxx
Three days was a considerable amount of time to be sick in today's world, especially when the ailing person was one's very own girlfriend, for whom you could do nothing more than watching her sleep, keeping her company every now and then, holding her hand when talking to her while she rested with her eyes closed, and perhaps even bringing her a bouquet of get-well-soon flowers or two.
Or six, in his case.
He had read somewhere, eons ago, that gifts in general could encourage an ill person to increase their healing process. While he was not convinced of what he considered to be nothing more than the influence of pseudoscience – stretched interpretations of how the human body's immune system worked, he had been desperate enough to give it a try. He had assumed, wrongly so, as it had turned out, that an indirect proportional relationship existed between the number of gifts received and the days spent in bed with a disease. Despite the ludicrousness of it all, he was starting to now wonder if the proportion had actually been a direct one, instead.
Pseudoscience is the worst!
One of the very few emotions that Tony disdained experiencing was pure powerlessness, and his life was filled with it at the moment. Not one of his highly advanced inventions could help her. Doctor Yinsen had even indicated that her lung infection, while being a rather foul one, was not at all life-threatening, and that all that could be done for her was to allow for her body do its job. Although his ginger was getting better at a snail-comparable pace, she was indeed in route to recovery. In a couple of days, or so Doctor Yinsen estimated, she would be as good as new, and Tony would then be able to resume his task of keeping an eye open for the chance to finally – FINALLY – own up in public to his eternal love for her.
The inventor smirked mischievously at the prospect of informing her of his feelings and how it all related to his current task. It was early in the morning, the sun had not even come out yet, and he was sitting at his penthouse's kitchen island in Stark International, still in his sleeping attire of black pajama pants and a light, white t-shirt with no socks. He tapped the pen he held in his hand against the counter a couple of times before he then used it to hit against his pursed lips, his mind deep in thought – running possible opening sentences in his brain.
As ironic as it was and as hypocritical as it made him seem, Tony Stark had woken up today with a will to write a letter for Pepper. Not once in his life had he ever written one, but he was eager to at least give it a shot. An e-mail or a short text message; yes, he had obviously done that before – plenty of times. Typed up an essay or report: he sure had done that, too. Drawing complex tech schematics on a piece of paper or even on a napkin: been there, done that. But writing a letter. On paper. With a pen. By hand. A love letter at that; this was definitely unchartered territory for him.
"Good morning, Anthony," Howard Stark said to his son as he walked by the counter where Tony sat. "You're up early for a Sunday."
"Not much to do in bed," he absentmindedly replied once he heard the distinct sounds of his father preparing himself a fine cup of joe. The life of two genius men sharing a place to live was all that Tony was familiar with, but in moments like these, when he needed a motherly voice of emotional reason and comfort, Tony wondered what his life would have turned to be if Maria Stark still lived.
"Good morning to you, too, Dad," the teen added after a pause.
Once he had finished pouring all of the ingredients for instant coffee in his favorite cup, Howard noted that his son's attention was being raptured by a virtually blank piece of paper before him. Curiosity made the man approach the counter to sit directly across from his only son, if just so as to take a closer look at what was triggering in the genius so much visible grief. He subtly observed the teenager as he struggled to write anything on the paper, to the point of making him resort to persistently writing a couple of words on the white canvas only to almost immediately scratch them out with a rather pronounced frown on the young man's face.
He was getting nowhere rather expeditiously, that much was ruefully palpable to Howard, but one thing he knew that his son was not, was a quitter.
It was odd for the teen to resort to using what he had several times referred as archaic methods of communication. Yet, here he was: biting the capped end of a pen, scratching the top of his head with his left hand, groaning in frustration caused by a clear lack of inspiration, and sporting a look of concentration on his face that Howard had only seen once before on him: when the boy had been designing what the father later realized had been the first model of the Iron Man suit.
"You know, Son: sometimes, the easiest way to communicate is without words."
Tony did not immediately respond to his father's rather dull-sounding advice. He only did so after another minute had gone by and all he had been able to add to the paper was another instance of his girlfriend's shortened nickname.
"How did you tell Mom you loved her, the first time?"
His question was direct and left no room for misinterpretation of any kind. Tony's eyes were not on his father, however, and were instead fixed on the mockingly empty paper on the counter. The pen's inked tip was ready to be put to work by writing as fast as he could just in case listening to his father's reply would precipitously fill him with the muse that was currently evading him, and he, to some extent, feared that he would miss his chance to transfer his thoughts to print.
When Howard continued to simply gaze at his son instead of answering his very important inquiry, Tony finally looked up from the paper to give his father a confused look.
"Let me guess," Tony sighed, rested his back against the chair he was sitting in and all but threw the pen onto the counter before he folded his arms over his chest. "You're also gonna tell me to stop obsessing about it and just let it flow."
"Not at all," Howard stated. "I'm just wondering why you think she needs to hear that from you."
Tony's head recoiled and he looked left and right, his arms now bent in a way that conveyed how confused by the question he felt.
"Why wouldn't she?" Tony retorted. "I love her and I want her to know that I do."
"To what purpose?" Howard asked before he casually sipped on his coffee and shrugged. "It's clear that you have feelings for her or you wouldn't be dating her. What difference does it make if you say them aloud or not?"
"Well, yes," he partly agreed and leaned over the counter. "But, I've always had feelings for her, that's not the issue. She… she's one of my best friends!"
"Then why do you have this need to tell her how you feel now? Nothing has changed, right?"
"But… something… it… it has changed!" Tony spat and stood up from the chair, paper in hand. "That's the thing that no one seems to understand!"
"We understand, Son. We do. I do. I loved your mother, very much. I still do."
"Then why won't you help me?" Tony crushed the paper in his hand and angrily dumped it inside the trashcan. "I don't want to wait until Pepper dies on me and all I can do is say at her grave that I'm madly in love with her!"
"Then tell her that."
"But… I don't know how! I… I don't know what's wrong with me. I thought…" he recalled his conversation with Rhodey. "I thought I had it all figured out. But I don't."
Howard sipped on his coffee one more time. "Well, maybe, deep inside, you're not sure you love her."
"No," Tony shook his head fervently. "It's not that. I know I do."
"Are you sure? Maybe you just really, really, really like her? Patricia, she's a very unique young woman. Very charismatic, and she seems genuinely interested in what you do and who you are. I really like her. I may even see her as the daughter I never had, just like Roberta may see you as her second son. But that's what happens when you spend so much time with people that understand you. You start confusing deep affection with actual love."
Tony felt as if his father had just slapped him in the face.
"Are you saying that you think I don't really love her?" Tony dared to sound insulted by the insinuation. "Are you saying that I'm just confused?"
"No. Only you can determine that. All I'm trying to help you with is figuring out where this inability to tell her is coming from – that's the real problem, isn't it? In these situations, Anthony, I shouldn't be telling you how to show your affection for her – that needs to come from you. What I should be doing is making sure you understand the risks that come with building a relationship with someone you were already non-romantically attached to."
"The risks?" Tony scoffed and shook his head in disbelief. "I know the risks, Dad."
"Do you?" Howard probed.
"Yes!" Tony insisted. "I… I knew we were risking the friendship when we started going out, and to be honest, I was afraid that'd I ruin it. But, it's been great!"
Tony paused for a second, smiled briefly, exhaled deeply and then continued voicing his thoughts.
"Because, well, you know, she… she's great. And because, she's my girlfriend. But she's also my friend and I can tell her everything. And I mean everything."
Tony closed his eyes for an instant, hung his head in shame at replaying his own words, and then looked up at the ceiling to backtrack his statement.
"Well, I can tell her everything: except that I love her," the boy's blue eyes fleetingly lost their sparkle as he aimed his gaze at the floor for a short-lived instant before a sudden fire in them erupted from deep within him.
"And I do! I do love her, but I just can't tell her! I've been trying, but I messed it up every time! It's just so darn… HARD! Because, what if she doesn't love me back? I mean, I don't care. Well, I do care if she doesn't. But not like that. Not like, I'm going to break up with her if she doesn't. I just… I just have to wait, right? Because, she's bound to fall in love with me, too? Right?"
Tony chuckled bitterly in excessively pent up frustration and extended his arms to the sides.
"See? Do you hear me right now?" he aimed his palms to his ears. "I've said I love her, like, a million times just now. I can tell you I love her. I can tell Rhodey I love her. Heck! I even told her dad that I love her! But not her! NOT. HER! Why? Why can't I just walk up to her and say…"
He paused to swallow hard, lowered his arms to his sides, dropped his shoulders, turned his hands into fists and then closed his eyes. "Pepper: I love you. So much."
"You-you love me?"
Tony's eyes snapped open when he recognized the soft voice behind him and his jaw went slack. He could feel the blood in his body abandoning ship and deciding to just congeal in his feet. His mouth went dry. His brain stopped functioning and his heart decided to run a marathon. His stomach churned. His hands trembled, and the only evidence that he had not just suffered a sudden myocardial infarction was the feeling of his father's hand on his shoulder as he passed him by on his way out of the penthouse, wishing him good luck.
The sound of the front door closing echoed in his ears louder than said soft noise should have been in the first place. He knew that his father was a light sleeper, so he had made sure that any doors and/or hinges around the home made as little sound as possible when in use. This was how Pepper had been able to walk inside the home unnoticed – or at least unnoticed by Tony Stark who had been giving his back to the front door.
Tony gulped, stared at the floor and exhaled in sharp, broken breaths as he slowly turned around in place. His eyes remained by his feet, and only inch-by-inch did he dare to at last lift his gaze. The first thing he saw was her painted toenails on her sandal-clad feet, then her pair of uncommonly uncovered legs. He swallowed hard again when his sight continued its upward track, and by the time he was able to completely admire her form, his jaw dropped once more.
"Did you…," he found himself saying before he could stop himself. "Did you really have to look so gorgeous the first time I tell you that I love you?"
Pepper's head hung to hide the blush that quickly appeared on her face. She did not think that her current outfit was anything special, but it appeared as if she had been wrong. Her navy blue, thick-soled sandals made her a couple of inches taller, which probably made the distance between her feet and the start of her white shorts seem longer than it really was. From the edge of the waist of said shorts, the trim of the hot pink, two-piece bathing suit she wore underneath was partly visible. Her midriff was exposed due to the purposely uneven cut of the royal blue loose t-shirt she wore, and the wide collar of it allowed the straps of the top part of her bathing suit to show. Her hair was held by two, playful-looking pigtails loosely-tied right by her shoulders, cascading her tresses on her front, and from her right shoulder a large tote bag hung, filled with what appeared to be towels.
"I…" she managed to say, although she was still unable to stare at his face. "I felt a lot better last night and even more so today. And I… I wanted to thank you for your help. And make it up to you. For our missed date. By going to the beach. I," she self-consciously grabbed onto the straps of the tote bag with both of her hands. "I texted your dad last night. He said he would make sure you were ready by the time I got here today. I…"
She felt him starting to move closer to her, so she closed her eyes, and even though his declaration of love was all her mind could think about at the moment and could repeat over and over again, her mouth had always had a will of its own and continued to try to justify her presence in his home.
"I wanted it to be a surprise," she gulped. "That's-that's why I didn't tell you directly. I've been waiting downstairs for an hour. But I thought you'd be ready by now… I thought… I thought…"
Her lips began to tremble, forcing her to shut them. She did not have to open her eyes to know that he was standing right in front of her, as she could feel the heat coming from him and was practically intoxicated with his cologne. Her entire body was shaking now; she had no idea what else to say. She knew she had not been supposed to hear what she had just heard. She had not meant to walk into the vocalization of his thoughts without his permission.
But she had. And he knew she had. And she was at a loss at what to do next. As luck would have it, however, she did not have to struggle with it for long.
"I love you," she heard him whisper. His warm, shuddering breath caressed her face, and she then felt his equally shivering hands rest on her waist. "I love you, Pepper. I love you."
Practically hyperventilating and fighting the butterflies in her stomach, she slowly opened her eyes only to find her eyesight hindered by the presence of his face nearly on hers. From all the times she had imagined this moment ever happening – if at all, with him – this by far surpassed her most challenging expectations. It was not happening at all in the manner she had anticipated it would be, though; it was sudden and intimate and the air was filled with so much raw emotion that it was almost suffocating. But she loved it. She absolutely loved it. The ambiguity of it. The combination of practice and improvisation she could sense coming from it – it was all very Tony. It was all just what she loved the most about him.
"I love you, too," she said when she realized she had not stated her own truth yet, and when she finally looked up to his eyes and she opened her mouth to say the words again, Tony beat her to the punch by kissing her.
His left hand grabbed the strap of her bag and slid it off her, letting it hit the floor with a thud. His arms then ravenously pressed her against him, and her arms were caught bent in between her chest and his. She was barely able to touch the edge of his neckline, but she feared that if she tried to break free, her legs would fail to keep her standing. The way he was kissing her, the look in his eyes before he had leaned down to her face just now – she had seen it before, plenty of times as of late, but it was not until now that she understood what it had truly been a sign of. He had been trying to tell her this, for a long time, but he had not been able to go through with it for some reason or another.
As he pushed her towards the closest wall without breaking the kiss, Pepper's mind registered and organized every single occasion he had admired her like this, which happen to be pretty much every special occasion since they had started dating, certainly almost every date night, and even on their graduation day. All those times he had tried to tell her, and most of them she had gotten upset at his out-of-place reactions when he had failed, but how could she have known what his true objective had been? She was smart, but not psychic. And he was a genius, but not very proficient with words.
Words, Tony thought as he continued kissing her while he ran his hands up her spine under her t-shirt and his father's seemingly useless advice now made utter sense. Why did I even bother with words?!
He should have known better than that; than to waste his time and hers trying to properly and specifically relay in written or spoken words what she meant to him. What he felt could not be easily referenced, categorized or described. What he felt was too convoluted, too multifaceted to diagram. All his life, he had relied on science to guide his actions and decisions. All his life, science had never failed to give him the answers he searched for, and when said answers did not exist – when said solutions were not available, he just did what he did best: he created something from nothing. He gave life to what had never before seen the light of day and had then gone on his merry way.
But love. That already existed, though only in some type of virtual plane. Love was the name people had given to the amalgamation of the most basic needs of humankind: the need to belong, to be cherished and tended to – the need to find a mate and reproduce and spend the rest of their lives making sure any offspring survived long enough to carry on their genes. Love was the closest thing to immortality that humans could relate to. Love was what allowed the species to endure.
But he did not want to just simply endure. He did not want to think of her, of his favorite redhead, or their unusual and growing relationship in terms of science. He wanted the glamorized version of human nature. He wanted the word love to mean for them what it meant for everyone else: personal connection to another human being, devotion, attraction, passion, lust, desire, companionship…
The unselfish, loyal and benevolent concern for the good of another, he recalled reading somewhere in his research. And he also recalled scoffing at the varying degrees of definitions of the word love that seemed to make his concern more complex rather than easier to tackle.
How stupid he had been!
That had been his problem all along: he had tried to define the undefinable, quantify the unquantifiable and predict the unpredictable. Because that was how science was able to state, with a high level of certainty and a low margin of error, that something was very likely to be true. All the variables had acceptable and unacceptable ranges. All constants never changed. All processes were mapped out and replicable. All the scientific method did was either help prove or help disprove a theory – a musing, an educated best guess.
Love was not a variable or a constant. Love developed differently from person to person, and it evolved differently from couple to couple. There was no one way to fall in love with someone, and no sure way to fall out of love either. Love was just love, and the only thing that Tony could think would be able to have some type of gauge would be how much of it he felt for her: and he felt plenty of that.
He broke the kiss when he felt he was about to pass out due to lack of oxygen. He was breathing hard and fast, and she was too, and the loud throat clearing near them made them both jump out of their skins.
"Dad?" Tony said in shock but he did not pull away from the redhead, feeling that if he kept his body on hers, her reputation would not be tarnished by what she had been seen doing by someone other than himself. "Don't…" he took in another deep breath. "Don't you people ever knock?"
"I did," Howard replied with a shrug. "And I called your name. And I moved Pepper's bag to the couch," Howard pointed towards the living room with his chin. "But you two were too busy to notice this old man drinking his coffee here."
Pepper covered her face with her hands in humiliation, loudly repeating in her head how mortified she felt that her boyfriend's father had caught them making out – intensely making out.
Tony rolled his eyes at his father, and even if he too felt slightly ill at ease that his father had witnessed him without any restrains with Pepper, he was not about to give the man the satisfaction of embarrassing him for something he just knew his own father had done when young.
"We're going to the beach," the inventor said, almost nonchalantly and to change the topic of conversation. "But I think you already knew that."
"A little," Howard said, not at all feeling guilty for what he had done. His son had needed that final shove, to be blunt about it, and just as Howard's very own closest friend when growing up had done for him when he had continually struggled to tell Maria that he loved her, he had now returned the favor tenfold by helping Tony do the same with Pepper.
"Five minutes, Pep," Tony reverted his attention to the still in-denial redhead as he finally placed more distance between them. "I'll meet you downstairs in five minutes, OK?"
"Is your dad still standing there?" her childish, muffled voice behind her hands made him chuckle. "Can he not look at me when I walk away?"
Tony's eyes searched his father's only to see Howard already moving towards the kitchen, his back to the teens and his shoulders shaking up and down in obvious amusement at the girl's antics. At least his son and his girlfriend had still had all their clothes on when he had walked back into the home to catch them in such a compromising position. This was much better compared to what Maria's late father had caught them doing in the back of his car.
Pepper covered her eyes with her right hand and let Tony guide her to the door. Once she arrived to it, however, she partially separated her fingers on her face to pinpoint the location of the item she had brought with her.
"Tony, my bag," she closed her eye again and covered it completely with her hand once more. "I need my bag."
"I'll bring it down with me," the genius assured her and grabbed her waving arm in front of her, unable to remove the wide smile from his face. "I won't forget it, I promise."
"OK! OK!" she replied and then turned on her heels to walk out the door. "Five minutes, Tony!"
"Five minutes, Pep!" he yelled back down the hall, following her movements until she rounded the corner and disappeared. He rubbed the back of his neck with right hand and then walked back to the living room on his way to his bedroom. He was almost out the door in less than three minutes, dressed up and ready for spending the entire day at the beach with Pepper, and as he nearly reached the front entrance, Howard could not keep himself from trying one last time to get a rise out of his child.
"Won't you be needing protection?"
"WHAT?" Tony exclaimed. "No, Dad! That won't be necessary!"
"Are you sure?" Howard said with a knowing smile plastered on his features. "I saw you two just now, and things happen when you least expect them. It happens, Tony. It's just plain science, Son."
Tony shook his head vehemently as he put on his backpack filled with beach-related items and grabbed Pepper's bag in his left hand. The blue-eyed boy finally reached the door, stopped for a second and then covertly thanked his father for his help by concluding his response.
"It's love."