the aftermath of the expo has been explored and probably wrung through like crazy, that there's not much left to do but return to the basics: what do they do now? and so i sat down and made my explorations as to that question - tried my best to avoid what has already been established in ficdom, and this is...it.
ALSO I AM DISAPPOINT. ffn didn't put in the breaks necessary in the fic for the sections. APOLOGIES TO THOSE THAT READ AND REVIEWED. 'cause i don't know HOW you even read that mess without the break indications.
FALLOUT, FALL IN
PostIM2. A look at the aftermath of the Stark Expo, involving a series of broken conversations throughout the night and morning.
He stumbles out of the bathroom, practically clawing onto whatever surface he can as he makes his way to the bed. He probably should get Pepper's assistance, or if he's still around, Happy. Maybe Natasha, but he's certain that she would drop him on purpose once given the chance.
The former is probably feeling a bit too exhilarated after tonight's events and is already on his way to the nearby hotel (despite offers of a guest room). The latter is even more unlikely, given how her phone was ringing insistently, while she gave them a hasty overview of the remains of Vanko's work at Hammer's. Fury is, unsurprisingly, not a patient man.
(What he doesn't know is that it was actually Maria. But that's for another time.)
"I am a genius," Tony announces with as much flourish as he can, as he finally reaches the bed, "for installing that corner to sit in the shower. I may have slipped a few times, but that's the water's fault."
"The elements can be crafty little things," Pepper says, phone pressed to her ear and drumming her fingers against the keys of her laptop as she waits for the other person on the line to return. Shifting slightly, the laptop on her knees tilts to the side and touches the bed. She's sitting, a little too close to the edge of the bed, and almost looks like she could fall, but he is confident she won't.
She's simultaneously composed, professional, as she talks on the phone, but also fidgety, awkward, twisting the corner of the blanket around her finger, unwinding it, and repeats.
When she glances down at him for a moment, Tony raises an eyebrow; she looks away, back to her laptop screen, and the call.
"He's fine. Go ahead and use the credit card, Happy. Tony won't mind. Yes. Yes. I'll be fine. And I'll keep watch over him this time. Don't worry. Just get some rest. Good night. You too."
She hangs up and sighs, leaning back against the propped pillow.
"So what now?" he groans as he adjusts himself onto his side slightly, facing her, chuckling through the pain from the pressure on his bruises.
"I...don't know," and she says it like it pains her. And it does.
"You always know things," he yawns, his jaw tight and slightly resistant to the movement. He has this habit when things get particularly harrowing in his...incidents, of clenching his jaw in a particular way. Actually, he has this same habit when he's particularly concentrated in any type of work.
"I don't like it when you don't know."
"Me either."
"Is it at least a good 'you don't know?'"
"What does that even mean?"
He just shrugs. She can see his foot peeking out of the blanket, watches as he rotates his ankle to crack it. She fights her own need to crack her ankle (her love for heels come with caveats), not wanting to mirror his movements, because somehow - to her - it means something significant if she does something similar right after him. In this house, in this bedroom, in this bed. Like it confirms she's a pair to him, and he to her. And she - they - aren't ready for that.
"So?" He presses on, the question both not clear and entirely clear.
She just sighs, presses the top of her ponytail against the hardwood headboard, as if that pressure against her head will help her next few words.
It doesn't. She has to settle with:
"Tony. Eyes closed."
"Got it, Potts."
It doesn't take him long - and she's thankful that he's sleeping. Not because it gives her a reprieve from a conscious Tony (not that he was very conscious after they got him out of his suit, in the first place), but because he's actually sleeping. She knows he hasn't been sleeping of late - and she thought that was just him, trying to cope with everything. And yes, that was a large part of it, but she didn't recognize, wasn't at all aware, that he was fatally sick.
She breathes out shakily, careful not to be loud, too aware how loud her breathing is because of that cautiousness, but Tony's never been very observant. Except - again, of late - he's been very careful around her. Not always, of course, and not completely; he's still Tony and problematic as ever - the flippant behavior towards her for the past couple of months, the birthday party, among other things. But he has been significantly more wary around her and that scares her because he's never careful. And it's strange because one of them (always Tony) is always without reservations and the other not so (herself) and that makes their relationship, strangely enough, work.
There's too many changes, she's come to realize. Not just right now, but a gradual recognition of these changes. His return. Iron Man. Their dynamic, of course, has to have changed. It's only natural.
It's just she hasn't had a full moment to process or ponder how to deal with this transition. Just recently, they had managed to settle into some place where they were semi-comfortable with one another. And then she was suddenly CEO, and he was confronted with a few days time and the tick tock of his death, and then Vanko, and then the rooftop, and now.
And the Now.
She really hates not knowing what to do with this.
"You're looking at me."
"Mhm," he snuffles into the blanket, stretches out his tired limbs as much as he can before the fatigue is too much and it's too exhausting to move, even if it feels good and relieves the soreness.
"Good morning," she says, though it's only been an hour and a half since he fell asleep.
He grins and just nods against his pillow, "Mhm."
"How do you feel? Still warm?" Pepper asks, even as she searches for the answer by pressing the back of her hand against his forehead and brushes it across the side of his face. She catches some droplets of sweat with the back of her fingers as she does so.
"Like crap."
"You need to rest some more," she says, pulling her hand away. She turns to the small propped up table beside her and then returns with a bottle of water, "after you drink some water and take some meds. Do you want JARVIS to adjust the room temperature?"
"Nah. And Godyesgimme," Tony says approvingly. He eagerly takes them and equally eagerly finishes down more than half of the water bottle in seconds. He settles back onto the pillow with a sigh and just closes his eyes.
"JARVIS. Let's get the shades down. And dim the lights. How's a guy s'posed to sleep with all this?" he gestures with a limp hand around the room and the window, to the moonlight.
"Certainly, sir."
His eyes snap open when he feels a change of weight on his bed and turns his head, to find Pepper shifting from under the sheets and handling the laptop close to her as she slips off the bed easily.
"I'll be downstairs if you need me," she says simply. She smoothes her side of the bed as if it matters to him how rumpled it is.
"Wai- What. Why?"
He had momentarily forgotten she was there, for whatever reason; maybe it was too surreal that she was still here, coupled with how he was too preoccupied with his exhaustion. And he wasn't used to company after his battles, making commands of JARVIS without remembering she was there - without recognizing they were sharing a space.
"It'll be too dark in here to work, Tony. It'll strain my eyes."
"Reverse that last order, JARVIS. Turn on the lights at full."
"Tony." She sighs as the room is flooded with too much light.
"It's fine. JARVIS. Reverse it."
"Tony," she tries again, "if it helps you to sleep in a darker environment..."
"If," he swallows, tries to clear his throat to get rid of the tickle in his throat, "just... Let there be light."
Pepper frowns at him, even as he just grins, the palm of her hand tickling slightly with the thrum of her laptop, against her chest, as she just stands there and says nothing. He expects that silence. He doesn't expect his words, the earnestness of it, to suddenly melt her or convince her. Pepper's not moved by his charm - though sincere - that easily.
She does recognize he's actually attempting to make a compromise. Which is disconcerting.
"By the by, you shouldn't hold the laptop like that," he waves his hand weakly towards her, "not safe and whatever."
She sighs as she tosses him the rest of the bottle, noting his hoarse voice, "You need your rest."
"But," and he's starting to sound petulant and she shouldn't give in, but he needs to rest and their arguing is counterproductive. She's the obstacle, so she sighs inwardly, and settles back into bed. Ignoring his victorious grin, she turns to her side and plugs in the laptop again.
"JARVIS. Dim the lights please," Pepper says softly, as she opens up her laptop.
A long time ago, Pepper once fell asleep in Tony's room - or rather, the guest room on the first floor in the Malibu house. It wasn't deliberate. They were working, and he couldn't exactly leave the bed for the offices that week, due to his broken leg (a result of unusual Stark antics; more to do with shopwork, than any out of hand festivities).
She hadn't meant to stay very long, knowing he needed to relax (despite his utmost efforts otherwise). Her intentions to check up on a few things and finish some paperwork became many things and stacks of signatures. It was a Friday. And then she fell asleep - at one point or another.
It was a pretty comfortable chair.
Right now, her coat, his dirty clothes, are draped over the top of a chair (not the same chair, but the same designer); the chain of his car keys is loosely stuck, looped over the button of her right coat sleeve, dangling.
(She had driven to the Stark house, while he had semi-napped, semi-babbled about how wonderfully she was navigating the roads, even with how much she hated New York traffic.)
Time passes with the noises of Tony's light snoring and Pepper's typing. Gravity wins and the keys drop to the floor with a soft thud against the carpet. Tony's a light sleeper; he stirs. Pepper's fingers, without looking away from the screen, are gentle against brown locks, lulling him to sleep, lulling the outrageous and sensationalized reports of tonight's events to some level of truth, lulling her own nerves and concerns.
(Pepper's good at multitasking, as always.)
Though, it takes him fifteen minutes to fall back to sleep.
"This should be a regular thing."
"I thought we talked about this. Eyes. Closed. Now."
"Uh huh. And I am. My eyes are closed. Permission to open them?"
"Fine, sure," she says, certain that he already has them opened without even looking at him.
"This should be a regular thing."
"What should?"
"You. Me. Here."
She snorts, "I'm sure you would want that to be a regular thing."
"Oh. Yeah," he says, realizing what she thinks he means. He takes the water bottle she's handing to him, while she types with one hand. She's damn talented and efficient, he thinks for n-th time. He drinks, still needy with hydrating himself. He continues, "Well. Yeah. That too. Definitely that. Later. But this should be a regular thing. Can it?"
"Tony... Get some sleep."
She finally looks down to his side, to look at him, and is entirely not surprised that he's back to sleep. She fights her own victorious smile, but it's easy when she has to grimace at the email and the photos attached she just received.
Rhodey's at the door, leaning heavily against the doorway and blinking desperately to keep himself awake.
She opens her mouth, but he loudly yawns over her - not deliberately rude and she's just a little amused. She needs this levity right now.
"Threats later, Pepper. I'm crashing here tonight. Tony can suck it, if he has a problem with that."
"Never mind him," Pepper says as she steps back, gives him space to enter the foyer, "What happened to your hotel room?"
"Cancelled. I had reservations at a hotel, courtesy of Hammer. But they've frozen his accounts and everything."
"Oh," she still has to deal with that, but in due time, "I'm almost afraid to ask, but how'd you get here?"
Rhodey just grins, sheepish, when Pepper finds pieces of the suit, lit up by the porch light.
When she comes back, she finds Tony's sleeping on her side and what do you know, he hogs the bed.
(So does she.)
She decides to turn around and head down the hall, help out Rhodey with setting up his bed, if need be. She should arrange JARVIS to monitor Rhodey, but she trusts Rhodey won't wake up in the middle of the night and do things with the conviction that he has the energy of a full night's rest.
(Evidently, the night of the incident with Obadiah, that was precisely what Tony did. After the press conference, Tony had slept for days - having obviously overestimated his recovery time.)
Maybe by the time she's back, Tony will have rolled back onto his side. And if not.
Well. She can always force him back to his side, as a form of retribution for all the crap she's had and is dealing with.
"Rhodey's here," she whispers softly; she finally has to nudge him to give her space (her legs hurt and she needs more room than just a chair), her fingers insistent on his shoulder.
"Oh," Tony moves accordingly, giving more space than she needs, until she recognizes what he's thinking.
"Not here," she allows herself to laugh, "he's using one of the guest rooms."
"Good," Tony mumbles, "he kicks in his sleep."
"Hey. You're finally lying down."
"Hm."
"And working."
"Uh huh."
"Anything going on in the world?" He asks casually, but obviously making a miss in their conversation.
"Plenty," she answers, clicking away on her phone.
"...I've been sleeping. And Rhodey sleeps like the dead. What about you, Miss Potts?" He tries for his best bosslike voice.
Pepper turns her heads slightly then and just smiles at him, "Eyes. Closed."
"You haven't been sleeping," he accuses the next moment his consciousness resurfaces.
"No. I haven't."
If honesty is their thing now.
"Knew it. Why?"
She bites her bottom lip and sighs. He can smell faintly mint in the air. Toothpaste. Or mouthwash. Which means she's been trying or preparing to sleep, at least.
"Worst case scenario: I wake up and everything will be out of its place all over again. If I'm awake, I'm aware of when it happens and how, and can fix this mess of a night and avoid a larger fall in our stocks. Also, I don't sleep well in new beds. And you kind of snore. And I'm not used to that either. I mean, I know you snore. But. This is different."
And wow, that's a mouthful and all in one breath (she's talented in this too; he remembers vaguely her telling a story or two about her time on the school debate team).
Tony frowns. She's too much in control, he thinks. She's a little too dedicated to the company, he thinks. She's also really pretty from this angle, he thinks. It's not an angle he's afforded the pleasure to seeing very often.
He shifts forward, closer to her, not deliberately, just wanting to adjust how he's lying, but then she shifts herself even closer to the edge. He stops his movements (not that they were much, given his own limited control of his weary body). He hadn't meant to move closer towards her. It was just hard on his dry throat and straining his voice with their distance is problematic.
He rolls onto his back and closes his eyes. This leaves a larger space between them on the bed.
"JARVIS can do that," he says, "he can wake you if something happens. You don't even need to ask him."
"But-"
"Pepper. You need a clear head. I want you to have a clear head. You need you to have a clear head. You're useless if you run on E like this. Hell, if you need to - go take one of the guest rooms. I'll stay put here and sleep, promise."
There's no response for a while. But then he hears her sigh softly and then feels the blanket shifting towards her direction, feels the tug and the fabric sliding against his now exposed knee. His mouth twitches into a grin, but he's a little too fatigued right now to really be entirely aware of that or whatever feelings he has right now. What he is aware of are warm fingers and palm on his forearm. She stays still for a moment, until she pulls, drags, his arm towards her. Her petite fingers curl over his wrist, thumb pressing gently against his wrist pulse. She's holding his arm, he realizes, like some source of comfort.
And then it's this intense compulsion, (painful really because he both wants this but also is scared as hell), because he does want to be some comfort or something for her, to her - even half the effective presence she has on him.
(It's sort of creepy that one of her thoughts is that this is the very arm, with the repulsors of his suit, and kills and destroys. Both intentionally and unintentionally. There are always casualties, even with his efforts to protect everyone and everything.)
(It's all sorts of creepy that as he is on the very precipice of awake and asleep, he has this strange, hazy image in his mind - the edges and beginnings of dreaming - of his arm becoming his suit. He has this equally hazy anxiety that balls up and throbs in his chest of said hand being so very close to Pepper. But he can't do a damn thing to get rid of the image, because as perturbed as he feels - sleep consumes him and his exhaustion overtakes him.)
But maybe, definitely, this defines their very relationship. Despite whatever they do, whatever they choose to do with this - whether to be in a proper relationship or leave it as it is: there is the fact that he is Iron Man. It's not just Tony, Pepper, SI, now. It's Tony, Pepper, SI, everything Iron Man, everything of both their lives and the people involved, everything of their past and current and future issues. That reality hangs over their lives, and always will, and it's something they have to deal with anyway - whether or not they become a "them," beyond platonic boundaries. And whatever they are - it's always going to be a balance of such morbidity and the conventionalities of a relationship and their lives.
Pepper presses her cheek against his knuckles, still hesitantly, his fingers twitching as he falls completely to sleep.
As she succumbs to her own exhaustion, her fingers twitch against his pulse.
The next he wakes up, Pepper and the sun (he assumes, anyway; his eyes remain closed) are both up. Rhodey is whispering, so he's apparently in the room.
He doesn't catch what they say though, because he falls back to sleep.
Rhodey closes up his own laptop quietly, the soft click alerting Pepper.
"I'm gonna go ahead and pick up some lunch on my way back. What are you in a mood for?"
"Are you sure you should? We can also just call for take-out," she's already reaching for her phone.
"No, no. I can move around just fine and I gotta run some errands. Make some calls. Just...," Rhodey looks to the sleeping Tony, wants to say something, obviously, but ends up with a, "just call me if you have a hankering for something specific, alright?"
Pepper just nods, as he kisses her cheek and squeezes her shoulder affectionately.
"What? No kiss for me?" Tony mumbles.
"Shut up, or I'll force you and you'll sleep for days."
"I can outbench you."
Rhodey rolls his eyes, "I still have your suit.'
"Go already. I'm starving. Take my car, it'll be faster."
Rhodey answers with the jangle of keys, heading towards the door.
"You know. There was this kid."
"What?"
"This kid. He...," Tony shrugs, but Pepper knows that it's not nonchalant as he makes it - it's too stiff, "one of the droids was gunning for the kid. Literally. And the kid was wearing that Ironman merchandise we approved-"
"You approved it." Pepper corrects before she can stop herself.
"Fine. That I approved. And the kid tries to be cool, be me, by trying to take the droid one-on-one. Which is, I guess," he pauses, "...cool."
Without much, Pepper knows what he's getting at. Tony Stark has never worked to be a role model for someone else. Tony Stark lives for himself. Chaotically. But with a good heart underneath it all. Mostly, anyway. And now he's working his way on living for himself and others, to protect others.
And it's scary when people are actually starting to get it. Get that Tony's the good guy.
Except Tony knows he's not really the good guy. He's still got some growing up to do. He's still making major mistakes, ones they need to discuss. And it's a little frightening knowing that other little boys and girls are growing up, thinking, imagining, deluding themselves, that Iron Man is invincible, modeling themselves after him, to be equally so.
He starts to fall asleep, the snore soft, the heave of his chest slight but prominent, the candescent blue of the RT vibrant as ever, with the sunlight illuminating the receding, but still prominent, grey veins across his chest and neck.
Tony evidently is not invincible.
She leans down, strands of hair slipping from her shoulders and grazing his cheek and his pillow, her lips light on his. Before he can respond - his hand already reaching for her wrist, but falling back to the bed, Pepper pulls away.
"Mmm, what was that for?" He mumbles, slightly still conscious.
"You were looking pathetic."
"Your dirty talk is exactly as I imagined."
"Eyes closed."
i'm not entirely sure what was supposed to be in this fic. nothing is supposed to be really resolved or even wholly stated. there still needs to be a full convo on what exactly tony has been doing of late to himself, to his friends, given the fact that OH HE WAS DYING NO BIG DEAL. etcetc
apparently tho that is not this fic? it kind of was supposed to? but then it morphed into this. basically: so many deletions and unwritten stuff.