Home
"Where do you think you're going, Stark?"
"Home."
Steve Rogers' angry question and the simple answer he'd given rang through Tony Stark's head as he trudged up the stairs. The new Tower had been equipped with a state-of-the-art elevator system, but, for all he knew, it was fried, like he assumed most everything else in the building to be. He wouldn't risk it. He laughed bitterly. After all the stupid chances he had taken, especially recently, he was worried about the risk of faulty wiring.
He continued his trek, head down, looking at nothing but his feet. He thought about the last question as he reached the landing for one unknown floor and proceeded to the next. Home was the first word that came to mind. The more pressing question for him now was "Where was home?"
Eventually, Tony reached the end of the stairs and faced the door that served as a fire escape to the private quarters. Not knowing what to expect, he placed his shoulder against it and shoved, in case it was blocked. Surprisingly, the door was uninhibited and flew open, sending him staggering into the darkened room. He cursed under his breath and kicked the door closed. Beginning with the faceplate, Tony discarded pieces of the armor as he walked. He didn't need light to guide him. He knew the exact route he wanted to take. Gauntlets, shin-guards, shoulder pieces, and a breast plate littered the path from the emergency exit to the bar. He reached indiscriminately under the counter, settling for the first thing he could grab. Forgoing a glass completely, Tony swigged directly from the crystal decanter of bourbon. He needed something to block out the sights, sounds, and even smells of the past few days. The only thing that kept him from getting absolutely, completely, thoroughly hammered was the fear of nightmares once he was unconscious. He tried his best to ignore the shaking in his hands when he tried to replace the cut-glass stopper. When he failed on the third try, Tony gave a strangled wail and hurled the offending object against the far wall with all the remaining strength he felt he could muster. Too tired to even care anymore, he slid to the floor. There, with his back against the wood of the bar, he pulled his knees to his chest, making himself as small as possible.
"Tony."
At first, he thought he imagined it…the sound of his name in the quiet room. It was probably a combination of fatigue and the alcohol making him hear things that weren't there. Then again, maybe it was the first sign he was truly going insane.
"Tony."
This time, there was no mistake. It wasn't imaginary. It was real. He knew that voice. He'd heard that voice too many times. He could recognize it in the din of battle as well as the stillness of his solitude. It saved his life in an Afghan cave and comforted him after the Chitauri invasion. Tony looked around the room, his eyes straining to make out the oh-so-familiar silhouette in the growing dusk. Despite his recent libation, his mouth was dry. He licked his lips and tried his voice for the first time since the exchange with Steve on the street. "P-Pe…Pepper?" It came out sounding rusty and raw, but it worked. Tony held his breath and waited for a response. Somewhere to his right, a lamp came to life and that part of the room was flooded with light. Then, he saw her… in the flesh…waiting on him. Tony scrambled to his feet, stumbling over himself to get to where she sat on the arm of a chair.
The first thing he did was wrap his arms around her as tightly as possible, as if she would evaporate if he let go the slightest bit. Pepper didn't object, but, instead, enveloped him in a bear hug of her own. They stayed that way for a while, doing nothing but holding each other. They came apart slightly, only to meet in a long-overdue kiss. "I…I didn't know where…" he rasped when the kiss ended.
"Shh…," Pepper consoled, putting a finger on his lips. "It's okay. We're both home now."
For the first time in recent memory, words failed him. Tony had no desire to say anything at that point and time. He laid his cheek on her chest and she cradled his head in her hands. As he rested there, listening to her heartbeat as she ran her fingers through his hair, Tony came to a monumental conclusion. Home wasn't a building or a physical address or a geographic location. Home was here. Home was her. Home was Pepper Potts.
Author's note: A conversation with nancyozz got me to thinking about what we need to make us Pepperony fans happy. The thought hit and wouldn't leave until I got it written out. IDK what AoU has in store for us...maybe something, maybe nothing. However, since Tony and Pepper deserve a happy ending as much as we do, maybe it would be a little something like this. It came so fast, I didn't have time to really let anyone look over it, so it may stink. Happy reading. Reviews would be AWESOME! PEPPERONY FOREVER!