Pepper Potts inserts her key into the door lock, too tired to notice that the doorknob gave in without her having to twist the key this way and that.
It's been a long day.
Aside from company matters, Pepper also had to deal with the backlash on the Lagos incident, the Avengers fallout, as well as the Accords.
She sighs. Tony still manages to make her life complicated even if they were on a break.
It didn't even feel like a break, if she's being honest. Her relationship with Tony haunted her like a ghost that hasn't seemed to move on.
She remembers the day they separated all too vividly.
Tony wasn't getting any better. His nightmares grew worse after the Ultron debacle. Guilt hung heavily on his shoulders, hovering over Pepper and Tony like a cloud.
Tony had forgone sleep again. And instead of suits, he made plans: scholarship grants, set up relief operations, charity work.
They were all various ways to make up for what he did. But as much as he tried to take care of those around him, he neglected himself along the way.
Pepper couldn't take it anymore. She couldn't watch him destroy himself.
"Why?" was all Tony asked when she told him they needed a break. He was unnervingly stoic; there were no pleas, no protests.
"Because you won't stop," a sad Pepper said to him, "And one day you're going to kill yourself. You're going to kill yourself trying to save the world and I can't let you."
Tony only nodded, his mind churning and whirling into a maelstrom of thoughts. He looked up at Pepper when she pressed a hand to his.
"It's not about the suits. It's not about Iron Man." She had to let him know that it wasn't about having to choose between two sides of himself, although sometimes she wishes he could. "It's about you being selfless to a fault. You're saving others with no thought for yourself. We need to take a step back, Tony. How can you protect me—protect the world—if you can't take care of yourself?"
Pepper makes her way to the kitchen, shaking the memory away. With the lights turned on, she locates a tea bag and fills a mug with hot water.
She's about to walk back to her bedroom when she spots a shadow.
She freezes, quite sure that her exhaustion has caught up with her. She's hallucinating, Pepper tells herself. She's conjuring images of Tony in her head, making him appear in her apartment.
But then the image groans... And then shifts around on her sofa.
Pepper sets the tea down at the counter and slowly walks to the couch.
If this is all a hallucination, it's a very morbid one. Tony is lying on the couch, his face stuck in a grimace.
His arm is curled in a fist over his chest and Pepper catches a few mumbles slip out of his mouth.
"Mom," Tony grunts. "Don't..."
Pepper bends low and slowly reaches out. Her hand touches clammy skin and suddenly, it is caught in tight grip. Tony has his hand curled around Pepper's wrist.
Pepper gasps in surprise but proceeds to calm down. She takes the time to study the sight before her. This is all real, she concludes. It's not a figment of her imagination. Tony is really in her living room... And he's having a nightmare.
She wonders, not for the first time, at the terrors plaguing his sleep.
Tony's body tenses and then his head whips from left to right. "Rhodey... M'sorry."
Pepper frowns. She knows Rhodey's taken a hit while apprehending Steve and his team. But she doesn't know how it happened. If Tony had anything to do with his injury, no wonder he was having nightmares.
Pepper finds herself reaching out to Tony with her free hand, trying to gently wake him. She would do the same thing in the past and then hold him as he cleared out the images in his head.
"Tony," Pepper whispers, lightly shaking him by the arm. She tries again, a little louder and harder this time. "Tony."
Then his eyes flash open and he sees Pepper hovering over him. His eyes are bloodshot and tired. He looks at Pepper with confusion, like he doesn't seem to comprehend her presence.
"Pepper?"
"Hey."
Tony lifts a shaky hand, it cups her cheek. "Pepper." His voice is hoarse, but he speaks her name in a glorified whisper.
Pepper relishes in the touch. She's not gonna lie. She's missed him.
"You're here," Tony whispers, his mind still clouded with images and dreams.
"Yes."
Tony painfully shuts his eyes again, his hand dropping to hang limply over the couch. He whispers "mom would've loved you," and then goes back to sleep.
Pepper blinks at the sudden lack of contact. She's lasted weeks without seeing Tony, without touching him, smelling him… and now he's in her apartment, his other hand still tightly gripping her wrist.
Only one thing flits through Pepper's head. I would've loved your mom too.
...
The morning comes and Pepper wakes to find herself lying down on the couch. Alone.
She immediately sits up and looks around. Where is Tony? Surely, she didn't imagine it all. Last night couldn't have been a dream.
"Hey."
Pepper turns around and there he is looking exactly the same as the previous night.
She moves to a sitting position and Tony joins her, a steaming mug of tea in one hand. She vaguely remembers the forgotten tea from the night before and notes that this one, at least, is going to get consumed.
He hands it to her and Pepper gives a soft "thanks," before sipping and letting both the smell and taste soothe her.
Neither talk at first.
What does one say when your on-a-break-boyfriend breaks into your home, sleeps in your couch, and then makes you tea in the morning? What do you say when he has had a fallout with his group of superhero friends? What do you say to him, the man who is before everything—before Iron Man, before Avenger, before this—your best friend?
'Good morning' doesn't seem to cut it.
"Hey," Pepper replies lamely.
"I'm sorry," says Tony, "I didn't mean to—Well, I did mean to come and visit you but I didn't mean to do it unannounced, without calling or texting, much less break in because…" he sighs, dropping his chin to his chest. "Let me do this again."
Pepper smiles encouragingly and patiently waits for him to gather his thoughts.
Tony lifts his head up and starts over. "I need... I mean… I could use a friend... Right now. Can you... Can you be that for me?"
"Of course! May I remind you that before everything, we were friends first."
Tony snorts at that. "Technically, you were employed first."
Pepper agrees. "There is that." She places her mug on the coffee table and rubs her thighs, waiting for Tony to open up to her.
And when he does, Pepper sort of wishes she never even asked.
He tells her about Steve, Bucky, and his parents. He mourns for his mother, for the friends he lost, for Rhodey.
"I've been going to therapy," says Tony all so suddenly. "I didn't understand why you asked for a break back then. I thought… I thought if I let myself get treated, if I got better, then you'd come back. I wanted to get better. For you."
Pepper bites back the desire to interrupt and tell him that she never wanted him to get better for her.
Tony seems to have read her mind because he says, "But my shrink… she told me that it doesn't work that way. This isn't about you or the world or… or anybody else, but about me. And I…I understand now."
He looks at Pepper and she's never seen him so vulnerable.
"I understand what you meant when you left, that I was killing myself, not taking care of myself. Recent events have shown me that I need to fend for myself before I can look out for others. I need to be a bit more like Rogers in that way."
Pepper thinks about how terribly cruel it is for life to teach Tony this lesson by having him almost die by the hand of his friend.
Her hand hovers over Tony's, uncertain. Pepper settles for a hand over his thigh.
Tony's lips quirk slightly upwards and he seems a tiny bit embarrassed. "It's actually why I came here… I, uh, I have homework. The doc… um… she made me start out with my parents, you know, confront my relationship with them, my regrets. And now, she wants me to do… you."
Pepper raises a brow and Tony blushes. He didn't mean to say it like that.
"You're my homework," clarifies Tony. "Don't worry. I'm not… I'm not here to ask that we get back together or anything. I…"
He thinks back to the words of his therapist, making it ground him.
"Family is important, Tony," his doctor had said. "When I asked you if you had family, you said Pepper before you did your parents. That's significant. This week I want you to try to reconcile a few things with her."
Tony had shaken his head at her. "I can't. We're on a break."
"I'm not asking you to marry her, Tony. You two took a break from a romantic relationship. But that doesn't mean that a friendship can't be resumed."
Tony looks at Pepper now, his voice steady. "Pep, do you still love me?"
It isn't the question that throws her off. It's the way he asked it.
There is no sense of desire, pining, or yearning in his tone. Only honest curiosity and it makes Pepper think hard.
After a moment, she says, "There are times when I love you and times when I hate you… or maybe not you but rather your father, sometimes the Ten Rings, sometimes Iron Man for doing all of this to you. There are occasions when I feel betrayed and angry. And I wouldn't feel any of these if I didn't love you very much."
Tony nods in understanding.
The answer seems to give him courage because he sits up straighter and says, "If it's alright with you… I'd… I'd like to be… to remain friends. Can I… can we see each other again… as friends?"
He blunders and stammers in his nervousness and it makes Pepper smile.
She moves her hand from his thigh to capture his. "I would like that very much."
Tony sighs in relief. "Good, good."
"So… friends," says Pepper.
"Friends," repeats Tony. He is silent until Pepper asks him, "And you? Do you still love me?"
Tony smiles. It's a simple smile that brings out the fine lines in his face, the tiredness in his eyes, the warmth of his cheeks. "Always. But I can't—I have to…" he gestures to his body, "get a hand of this first before I go ahead taking care of somebody else."
The fact that he's willing to put their romantic relationship aside, to focus on himself is proof he's serious about getting better.
"I completely understand." Pepper squeezes his hand and says again, "So… friends."
"Friends," repeats Tony.
"Alright." She raises an index finger at him. "But just so we're clear… friends don't break into each other's houses for a talk. They usually call or text… or wait by the door where they can ambush said friend."
Tony blushes and sheepishly apologizes. "Got it."
There is a small smile on Pepper's face as she watches Tony leave.
The cloud hovering over them is gone.
…
Despite their agreement to be friends, Pepper and Tony don't meet for weeks.
There are no calls or texts and it suits Pepper just fine.
Work keeps her busy and she suspects the same can be said for Tony, what with his therapy, the Accords, Stark Industries, and Rhodey.
She is surprised at how easy, how much simpler everything is after their talk.
When she was his girlfriend, she used to worry about Tony and what state she'll find him in when she gets home—is it one of those relatively good days or the bad ones? Does she have to trick him into eating, get him in the shower, or haul his ass out to feel the sun?
She used to feel pressured trying to maintain some intimacy between them, to keep love alive through date nights. She had started to confuse being a girlfriend and being a mother.
Now, she knows where she stands. She gets to occasionally go out with some girlfriends, and even work on some art pieces while pop music plays softly in the background.
A scheduled meeting is what takes them to meet in the same room.
"And it's working?" Pepper asks him as she skims the report in her hands. It details the clinical trials involving the Binarily Augmented Retro Framing.
"Well, I can't speak for other patients, but one subject in particular is benefiting from it." He has a cocky grin on his face and it doesn't take a genius to know that he's referring to himself. He no longer appears frail or vulnerable, he's almost like his normal self again.
Pepper gives him a look. "The scientific community needs more than just 'Tony Stark says so.'"
"My word not enough now?" he chuckles, but concedes to her point. "I was thinking that when it launches publicly, Barnes can have a go."
The fact that he can mention Bucky Barnes without suffering an anxiety attack speaks volumes about how much therapy—and BARF—has helped him.
"Of course, he can go in it now," Tony continues, "but I wouldn't want him using the thing when it's not yet perfect and clinically approved. That and he's kind of frozen at the moment or so a little pussy cat told me."
Pepper rises to put the report on her desk. She'll read it later.
"You wanna carpool with me over to see Rhodey?" Tony asks her, rising from the couch as well.
Pepper nods, grabbing her purse and following Tony out the door.
They have an entertaining and fun dinner at the Avengers compound playing catch-up with Rhodey.
…
It's a Wednesday night when Pepper finds out through the news that Iron Man and the Vision have been sent on a UN-sanctioned mission involving refugees in Eastern Europe.
Pepper's hand hovers over her canvass. She waits for the moment her stomach will melt and drop to the floor, for her heart to skip a beat, and her hands to grow clammy.
But they don't. Her breathing slows down and her thoughts fly to Tony but that's as far as her worries go.
Pepper doesn't find herself unable to function. She isn't concerned to the death about him. She still worries, but not in the same degree as she would have when they were together.
Because Pepper knows Tony's going to take care of himself out there. She trusts that he will, that he can.
And now that she's standing one step back, not clouded by emotions of a worried-sick girlfriend, she can see just how much Iron Man means to people.
Refugees are emboldened at the sight of an Avenger. They touch, they thank. They are heartened and reassured because if there is anyone who will not let terrorists screw anyone over, who refuses to let hate win, who takes back his life, and is a symbol for rebirth, it's Iron Man.
This is who Tony is.
She can't believe she ever despised it.
…
Tony calls one evening while Pepper is at home.
"Karma is a bitch," states Tony as soon as Pepper answers. His voice is clipped and cold, but also tired and heavy.
Pepper immediately knows something is wrong. She drops her paintbrush, turns away from her latest artwork, and moves to sit on the sofa in front of the TV which is broadcasting a ferry incident on Staten Island.
"I beg your pardon."
"I feel like I understand you now, trying to deal with me all those years ago as my personal assistant. God, I was a pain. And now I'm on the receiving end of that pain. So, yeah, karma is a bitch."
"What brought on this sudden realization?" Pepper asks patiently.
There is silence and then, "I have an apprentice."
"A what?"
"You know, an apprentice. A mentee. Someone I'm choosing to leave behind all my secrets to."
"I know what an apprentice is, Tony," says Pepper with a roll of her eyes. "The 'what' was rhetorical."
"Okay, well, I have this apprentice, mentee, whatever. And he's a pain. God, is Peter a pain. But what do you expect from a teenager? He's enthusiastic and eager—very eager to the point where he stupidly risks his life to prove himself to me."
"I'm sure it's not that bad."
"Pepper, he almost sunk a ferry today. Could've killed hundreds."
She hears him sigh deeply and then mumble, "Spider-Man. Should've been called Spider-Kid for all his immaturity…"
Pepper hears warning bells sound in her head. Years of working together with Tony Stark has made her develop some form of sixth sense when it comes to anything he's done.
She glances at the TV, giving it her full attention.
The replay shows Iron Man, a red and gold blur as he puts together a sinking ferry. A candid photo of Spider-Man is on the right-hand corner of the screen.
Pepper frowns, putting two and two together. "Wait, are you talking about Spider-Man? He's your mentee?"
Tony's words ring in her head.
God, he's a pain. But what do you expect from a teenager.
There is a throbbing in Pepper's head. "Tony, please don't tell me you recruited a teenager to be part of the Avengers."
There is a beat and then, "He's not part of the Avengers."
"But you recruited him!" says Pepper, "A kid! Tony, what the hell were you thinking, bringing a teenager into this business?"
"I didn't bring him in! Peter was already Spider-Man before I stepped in and gave him an upgrade."
Pepper was out of her couch now, pacing in her living room. "That was the worst thing you could have done. Now, you've encouraged this Peter boy and he's gonna feel invincible because he's got the Tony Stark, the IronMan on his corner cheering him on."
"First of all, I'm mostly reprimanding him than cheering him on. And second, I believe mentoring Spider-Man is actually a very responsible thing on my part. This way I get to guide— "
"No, Tony," snaps Pepper. "You're not guiding him. You've given him a way to bury himself even deeper in his vigilantism. He's gonna spiral, he's in something that's way above his head and he's not gonna come out of this okay!" She curses. "This isn't healthy for either of you! If it isn't Iron Man you're obsessing over, it's Spider-Man. Just as I think you're getting better, you do something like this. "
There's silence on the other end, a painful silence that tells Pepper she had gone too far. She grips her phone and closes her eyes.
"I can't talk to you about this over the phone," comes Tony's voice.
Pepper winces at his flat tone. "Tony—"
"I have to go. I'll talk to you later." He hangs up before Pepper could say any more.
She sits back on her couch, feeling dread in the pit of her stomach.
She overreacted.
She tries calling Tony again but it goes straight to voicemail.
Pepper closes her eyes, cursing herself.
She jumps when there's a knock on her door.
She opens it to find Tony standing in her doorway, a distinctive blue and red suit in his hands, his face wearing a mixture of guilt and anxiety.
The hand holding her phone drops to her side. "Tony—"
Tony raises a hand, cutting her off. "I know it's late, but I needed to talk to you, to explain. I couldn't just let you think that I was—that Peter is—can I come in?" His hand is already grasping the doorframe.
Pepper nods.
He walks straight into her living room, paces a few rounds.
Pepper waits for him to start.
"I don't even know why I'm bothering to defend myself, my actions. But… force of habit I guess," Tony says with a shrug. "And I want you to know. I can't… I know you care about me as a friend and open communication is key says my therapist so… I'm gonna… I'm trying to be better, Pep," is what he says, his hands gripping what she now can see to be the Spider-Man suit. "Do better."
"I know," Pepper says empathically. "But encouraging this kid's high-risk day job is not helping anyone, least of all yourself." She sighs. "Why are you even doing it?"
"Because… Because he reminds me of me," says Tony, his voice small and soft Pepper barely heard him.
Pepper stares at him. "What?"
"When I look at Peter, I see myself." Tony brings himself down on the couch, his head in his hands. "He's young. He's 15. And already he has this huge responsibility on his shoulders." He looks up at Pepper. "He feels responsible, Pepper, for everything that's happening. He thinks that because he has these powers, he has to do something, because he can! That remind you of anyone?"
Pepper sighs, plopping down beside Tony.
"When I found out who he was… Peter is a good kid. He's trying. So hard. And I don't want to see him lose himself to the suit… like me. I don't want what happened to me to happen to him. I don't want him to have this unhealthy obsession with saving people, saving the world.
"And damn," Tony says with a shake of his head. "I was so careful. I set up baby monitors, training wheels, and he still ends up almost getting killed! I… What happened today, if he had died… that would have been on me. So, I took it from him." He lifts the Spider-Man suit a fraction up. "I took the suit away. And now I don't know if it's going to drive him to do something even more stupid and reckless or… he's gonna rise to the occasion."
His hands fall back down to his lap and he looks at Pepper.
"I don't need your support on this. I don't need you to understand. I don't need your validation. I know in my heart that what I'm doing for him is right. He needs someone to guide him and protect him. I know you don't think I'm ready, but I think… I know that I am. He needs me and maybe… maybe I need him too."
And that's when Pepper realizes something. Tony's not better. Far from it. But does PTSD ever really go away? You learn to live with it, try to fight it with every breath you take, and that's what he's doing. He's not going to let his illness cripple him, or take other people he cares about.
"I'm sorry," says Pepper. "I… overreacted and made a lot of assumptions and didn't even give you the benefit of the doubt. I know you didn't need to, but thank you for telling me."
Tony grasped her hand, smiling kindly. "I wanted to. And I'll always tell you things. I'll tell you what I had for breakfast if I could remember it."
Pepper laughs softly, threading her fingers through his.
"Do you think he's going to be okay?" Tony asks her, his smile dissolving. "He looked so defeated when I sent him home without the suit. Should I call him? Or is that mothering him too much? I've never done this before." He adds sheepishly.
"Well, whenever I get mad at you, I always let you think through what you've done."
Tony nods. Peter needs time, he tells himself.
…
Something unspoken seemed to have occurred between them that night.
The following day, Tony sends her updates about Peter ("Did you spy on him?" "The ends justifies the means"). They use the codename Junior when talking about him and it makes Pepper want to visit the kid, meet him, get to know what it is about him that's gotten Tony all father-of-the-year.
They're in her office, having abandoned BARF reports in favor of looking at the Instagram photos the students of Midtown School of Science and Technology posted in preparation for Homecoming.
"Ooh, look at this. It says Peter's taking a Liz to Homecoming."
Pepper crinkles her nose. "That could be anyone! There are probably a dozen Peters in that school."
Tony frowns and reads through the rest of the comments. "Ah! Nope. This NewsFlash says 'Parker's taking Liz? How'd he manage that?' So it is Junior and I don't like this NewsFlash kid. He sounds like a bully. I'm diving into his photos… Yep. It's all of himself. And his cars. I gotta say, he's got good taste in cars. But that attitude's gotta go. Can you imagine someone so egotistical and full of himself?"
Pepper tries to repress a smile. "Yeah. It's kind of like looking at a mirror, isn't it?"
Tony halfheartedly glares at her. It's a look he's given her dozens of times in the past and it's packed with so much memory of their old uncomplicated lives that Pepper kisses him out of reflex before she is aware of it herself.
Tony freezes under her touch and so does Pepper.
She pulls away quickly and they both look at each other for a good couple of seconds.
Tony is startled, like he was doused with a bucket of cold water while Pepper is blushing furiously and at the same time mentally berating herself for probably pushing back months of progress for Tony's mental health.
She immediately apologizes. "That was inappropriate. I didn't mean to—"
Tony's hand suddenly appears at the back of her head and their mouths are together again. He doesn't let her pull away this time and they're tangled together, lips locked, fingers entwined, legs in between the other on her office sofa.
They finally break apart and Pepper exhales, their foreheads leaning against the other. "That was… are you sure we can do this again? Are you… ready? Is this too much? I don't want to make it hard—"
"I'm okay, Pepper. I'm okay." He kisses her and she moans contentedly in his mouth. It's been so long. She misses this side of them.
"Marry me?"
The question throws her off and Pepper pushes him to properly look at him, but Tony tugs her back close. "I'm not letting you go again. Marry me. I'm moving us to a country with no divorce so in case you change your mind you can't ever leave me."
"No," Pepper says, but she's smiling. "Not now."
Tony pouts. "Tomorrow?"
"Ask me again some time but not right now."
...
"I promised the press a big announcement! What are we gonna tell them?"
"Hmm. We'll think of something. Hey, Hap, you still got that ring?"