He knows he's fucked up.
He also knows Pepper is the best thing that has ever happened to him and he's hurting her. He's hurting her because he's hurting himself and he can't seem to stop. He can't fix this himself and that's staggering. Fixing things is what he does but now things are too far gone, out of his control, and he doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know what to do or what to say or how to reach out and get help because, god, he's never been good at asking for help.
The panic attack is a shock. How could that have happened? Stark men are supposed to be made of iron. He feels weak in body, mind, and spirit and instead of trying to sleep he avoids his nightmares by going down to the shop and tinkering. He'll make another suit. He'll make another suit and maybe somewhere in the lines of code and the bending of metal he'll find an answer. He's tried forty two times before but maybe forty three is the lucky number. He's got a good feeling about forty three.
He spends the day in a flurry of activity, never letting himself work for too long on any one particular thing. If he lets his mind get used to what it's doing, it's likely to wander off and his mind wandering usually leads to Very Bad Things. He's only reminded that tonight is supposed to be date night when JARVIS interrupts with, 'Sir, Miss Potts is on her way up to the house.'
His stomach drops and he tries to pull himself together, sending up the Mark 42 to greet her while he hides all the pieces he's been working on. Pepper, god bless her, isn't fooled and barely a minute after he thinks he's finished hiding away his hobby, his distractions, his shame, she's padding down the stairs barefoot.
He doesn't know what he's saying but he knows he's being glib, he's avoiding saying anything that means anything, when all he wants to do is scream at the top of his lungs that he's not okay that he hasn't been okay for a long time now but his body won't let him. He wants to reach out, he wants to reach out to Pepper and let her know he loves her and he's sorry for what he's doing but he can't move. He's stuck, he's shackled by decades of being alone, decades of being emotionally stunted and he can't break free.
He watches as the proverbial final straw lands on Pepper's back. He watches as she turns from him and starts to walk away, heading up the stairs, leaving him alone with just the cold, hard metal and the harsh blue lights of his holograms. His heart is racing and he can't just let her leave like that, he can't-he has to say something, anything.
"Pep! I admit it! It's my fault!"
He sees her eyes soften as he fights his own body to tell her what's going on. It's hard, every sentence is a struggle and he knows it's not eloquent, it might not even make sense, but he's trying and he can see that she knows it.
He feels safe when he buries his head in her chest, goosebumps racing down his spine when she runs her fingers through his hair. Iron Man feels safe, he muses, being held by this wisp of a woman.
His heart drops again when she steps away, heading back up the stairs, until she looks back and tells him to come with. He breathes a sigh of relief and follows her as she grabs his hand and pulls him into their bathroom. They're both silent as she takes his face in her hands and kisses him against the counter, long and slow, trying to draw him out.
He watches, wide-eyed and unmoving, as she slowly peels off his clothing, bit by bit. She strokes his skin with her soft hands and whispers words of love and simple platitudes, saying that everything is going to be okay. He knows better, he knows it's not going to be okay, but he lets himself believe in her words, he lets himself believe in Pepper.
When she's rid of her own clothing and the water has warmed up she grabs his hand again and pulls him into the shower. She lets him stand under the spray, grabbing his shampoo and squeezing it into her palm before she's scrubbing her hands through his hair. He tilts his head forward to give her better access and steps into her to wrap his arms loosely around her waist, letting himself get lost in the feeling of skin against skin.
When she's done, he drops his head entirely and presses his face into her shoulder. She wraps her arms around him and her fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck. Pepper, all hard edges and rules in public, is unbearably soft and warm when he has her alone. She's so gentle and kind and he doesn't know what he's done in this life to deserve her but he knows if he didn't have her he would have probably have been locked up by now.
He lifts his head to look at her, grateful for the shower to excuse the water that's running down his face even though only his body is under the spray. He looks at her and she looks up at him and gives him a small, sad smile and he's so tired of everything, so tired of thinking and hurting and feeling useless. He wants to feel something positive, get lost in something that's right.
He leans down and catches her mouth in a kiss that's soft and tentative at first, running his hands up and down her slick back. She threads her fingers through his hair again, gripping tight enough for him to let out a soft moan that's amplified by the tiled walls. One of his hands crawls up her side, thumb rubbing on the underside of the gentle curve of her breast. She nips at his bottom lip and when he runs his thumb over her nipple she gasps. He takes advantage of the opportunity to turn the kiss into something wetter and dirtier.
Before long he has her crowded against the shower wall, kissing her with one hand on the tile beside her head and one hand slipping down between them, fingers slipping into the hot, slick folds. She writhes against his hand and he swallows her moans greedily. Her fingers dig into his sides, nails leaving small red crescent-shaped marks in the skin before she lets her own hand drift down to grip him. He does his best to ignore her movements, which become stilted and jerky as his own fingers pick up the pace, focusing on what he can give her instead.
She's beautiful when she comes apart in his hands and he stops kissing her to watch as her eyes squeeze closed and her head tilts back to bare her long, elegant neck, her lips forming a perfect 'o'.
When she finally comes down, chest heaving and still shaking, he brings his hand up to her cheek and kisses her again. He tries to put everything into that kiss. All the things he hasn't said to her but meant to, all the things he needs to say to her but can't, and all the things he probably will never manage to say.
Her hand is still on him and she works it up and down, her thumb teasing him at the top. He shudders before he leans down and grabs the back of her thighs, hoisting her up in the air and pressing her against the wall. She lets out a strangled laugh that's more like a giggle and he smiles as he presses a kiss to her collarbone.
They both try to reach down between them as he attempts to position himself and before long they're both giggling as they try to slap each other's hands away. Pepper wins, as she tends to do, and his chuckle is cut off by a moan as he slides into her with her help.
He makes love to her against the shower wall slowly, the slapping of the water against the floor echoing around them. They whisper meaningless words to each other, meaningless words that fill him with hope and a feeling that maybe, someday, things will be alright again. Words that remind him that he still has her, that maybe he hasn't fucked this up completely, that they can work through this.
This time when she comes, her own hand between her legs, she brings him with her.
When they're done and he lets her slide back down to her feet, they both laugh at her wobbly legs. He lets a smile take over his face and he knows it's probably a little goofy but he doesn't care. He doesn't think about anything other than this, other than the beautiful woman standing in front of him and how much she means to him.
They don't talk as they dry each other off with the ridiculously expensive towels that Pepper likes or as they finally put on their night clothes. They don't talk and Tony doesn't let himself think of anything outside of what is right in front of him.
No words are spoken until they've slid into bed, Pepper's head resting on his shoulder. When he's sure she's finally asleep, when her breathing has slowed down and evened out, he presses a kiss to the top of her head and tells her he loves her.
He lets himself think that maybe it'll be okay.