"Hey." Pepper found him at the basement, tools at his side and another Iron Man model laid out before him on a table, like a patient ready for surgery.
"Done up there already?"
"For about an hour." Tony looked up to the digital clock overhead. 2:15 AM.
"I thought you were already in bed," Pepper remarked.
"I'm a night owl, like you. Just felt like working on some adjustments," he curtly replied before leaning down on the model again. Pepper kept her gaze steady: his hands and tools were attentive to his suit as always, but she couldn't see the same kind of focus in his eyes. After what had gone down in Manhattan a month ago, she'd see that subtle glaze like another wall that Tony put up to place other people at a distance, even when it was just them. She'd noticed other little things too: he'd murmur to himself, pause for a second before responding to anyone, if he's not ignoring them. Reporters and co-workers would shrug them off with "That's just Stark," but she couldn't see the normal Tony in these little tics. It seemed as if he was… lost. Like that time when he almost literally crashed down to Earth disoriented some part of him along the way.
These thoughts skimmed across her mind as she went upstairs to get them some coffee. When she went down, he gave no sign that he'd noticed. Pepper wasn't surprised, but she wasn't going to lose faith just yet. For a long time, she'd put up with Tony to keep him in line for Stark Industries, and eventually that shifted to keeping him in line for his own sake. It was a slow, often frustrating process, just as she imagined the next few months would be, but Tony wouldn't be riding this storm out alone.
She put down the coffee next to him and turned his right shoulder to meet his eyes. Pepper didn't say anything, but smiled softly and gave him a small kiss on the cheek.
"Don't wear yourself out, alright?"
He only responded with a knowing smirk, and she returned in kind. For tonight, it would manage.