Disclaimer, 'cause I have to: Don't own it. Don't want it (much). Okay, fine: Want RDJ, but that's it. And Gwyneth's shoes. And maybe Stark's mind.
Note: Sooo... it's been a while. I've been busy at college (ick), making friends (yay!), and generally having a fantastic and heartbreaking time, if that makes any sense. I have recently become obsessed with Iron Man and the Stark/RDJ. Also have become a sad, pathetic person simply because of new obsession with said obsession-worthy subjects. Anyway, I've not given up on my Bourne story even after a long haitus, so don't worry. After finishing with this (short) one, I'll go back to Time Immemorial, unless another Iron Man idea happens to pop up, which it very well may. I'm sorry and saddened to say that the inspiration for this little story came with the death of my much beloved puppy (not really a puppy at 10, but whatever), so I'm very mopey and weepy but that's to be expected. Anyway, upon watching the movie (for the third time), I thought that maybe they glossed over Stark's recovery time and emotional damage from his time in the caves? Here's my slightly cute, slightly tension-ridden, slightly sweet version of that.
Tragedy breeds creativity, I've been told, so here it is:
When something horrible happened, Pepper Potts baked.
She baked cookies, cakes, brownies, pies, muffins, bread, scones. If things were really dismal, she pulled out the big guns. Delicate chocolate lava cakes with cherry-blossom raspberry sauce. Grand Marnier infused crème brûlée, the crust on top so thick that shattering the caramelized sugar required several hefty cracks with a spoon. Light chocolate mocha mousse with orange zest and cherry syrup. Crispy almond lace cookies with homemade ice-cream and hot chocolate chili-spice sauce. Upon the death of her childhood dog, Pepper made exactly 357 cookies of varying types and flavors. On September 12, 2001, she made enough tiramisu to fill every baking sheet and casserole plate and glass bowl she owned. When Pepper's father died five years ago, she spent two days baking and decorating a three-tiered wedding cake. When life generally sucked, all of her energy, her concentration, and her enviable focus went towards finding new recipes and creating truly remarkable concoctions.
So when Pepper's boss of four years vanished violently from all known radio transmission and radar signals, her sister arrived at her door with a ten-pound bag of flour and several boxes of baking chocolate. She took one look at Pepper's immaculate attire (killer four-and-a-half inch heels at odds with a sensible knee-length skirt, Gucci blazer and perfectly smoothed hair) and shook her head.
"What'll it be today, Virginia?" Pepper cringed—Evy only called her by her given name when she felt it necessary to be especially stern. "Chocolate-pepper spice bread with blueberry giblet gravy? Banana grape pumpkin pudding? Just tell me, I'll start chopping the sardines, or whatever it is you usually use."
Pepper didn't crack a smile, although her lips might have quivered once. "Actually, Evelyn, I was just about to head over to the house to finish some paperwork."
"Fuck that. You need baking. I can tell—sisterly intuition." Evy heaved the bag of flour into her other arm, supporting the weight of it with her jutting hip.
"I most certainly don't," Pepper almost snapped. Evy's eyebrows disappeared into her hairline. "I don't, Evy. I still have work to do." She could see that her sister remained unconvinced. "This isn't some horrible tragedy, anyway. I'm sure everything will be resolved in a few days. He's… he's a very resourceful person, and they'll p-probably find him by the end of the week. I…" Pepper swallowed her words, trailing off because she couldn't (she couldn't) say any more with a steady voice. She took a quick, tremorous breath and attempted a smile, the corners of her mouth fluttering.
"Pep…" Evy said her childhood nickname very gently, her brows knit and eyes soft. "I understand that you and Mr. Stark have an unconventional relationship," she began carefully, "and I know that you feel very strongly—"
"Evy, he's my boss. That's ridiculous." In the few seconds it took her sister to voice her concerns, Pepper had somehow regained whatever small amount of composure had fled from her. She stood straight, any trace of unsteadiness in her voice stamped out by professionalism and pure discipline. "What are you doing here, anyway? You left Dan with the baby? Evy, you know he's hopeless. He's probably got the diaper over her ears at this point. Go home! You're a new mother. You should be enjoying these first few months!"
Pepper shooed her sister out her apartment, ignoring Evy's insistent stammering. Resting her forehead against the door once she'd shut her sister out, she squeezed her eyes closed—hard. Her entire posture seemed to collapse, and her shoulders, once straight as a sapling, now curved inward as if to protect her chest from light and pain. Pepper stood there for what seemed like days, breathing in and out, her eyes closed, the lids quaking slightly as she fought the unpleasant burn behind them.
Tony's smirking face from the morning of her birthday glowed in the dark of her vision, then his body, bleeding…his face slack and grimy…limbs broken in the sand…
Pepper released a small sound, like a fast inhale mixed unceremoniously with what might have been a sob, and her eyes flew open. Shaking her head, she groped for her briefcase on the counter and left an empty apartment for an emptier mansion, shutting the lights behind her.
Hope you like. More to come within the next few days. Can't help feeling like I'm a bit rusty, so I hope this meets the standard.