So this is a weird little something I wrote up because the idea was nagging me. I'm not sure if it's confusing (a lot of what I write ends up being confusing), but in my own defense, this one is allowed to be weird and scattered because I wanted to show how Tony's brain is weird and scattered. Anyway, enjoy.
Tony's brain never only thought of one thing. Every moment, ideas bombarded him. Most of the ideas were technical, and a very large portion related to the Iron Man armor, an increasingly large handful of these ideas were things he could do to Pepper the next time he had her alone, and often, when he was out and about, errant thoughts pertaining to the slightest details around him flitted through his brain.
The thing that managed to puzzle most people, including Tony himself, was the ideas that stuck. Sometimes, it was very obvious why an idea in Tony's mind had declared itself important. Like a new way to depth-proof the armor for deeper ocean dives, or that thing he did with his tongue to make Pepper scream. But sometimes, a though, any tiny little thought, could get stuck in his head and stay there, no matter how unimportant.
Last night, while Tony was reviewing the information Coulson had left him with, he went out to get some food and fresh air. His normal sandwich place had his favorite waiting for him when he got there (thanks to Jarvis for calling ahead), and he was walking back home. Between pondering the papers on thermonuclear astrophysics he'd been reading and hoping Pepper wouldn't be in DC too long, a strange word caught Tony's eye. "Shawarma" blazed in Argon-Mercury lights (he hated when people called them neon lights. They're only neon when they're red. The blue ones are filled with Argon and usually some Mercury). Suddenly, a new question joined his mind. Now he was thinking about Captain America's shield (he guessed it was made out of vibranium, but he'd have to look further into the matter), Pepper waking up in the morning wrapped in silk sheets, how Bruce Banner would react to high dosages of gamma radiation (would he change into the Hulk, or just absorb it?), and what the hell is shawarma? Whatever it was, it smelled good. He considered ditching the sandwich and trying the restaurant in front of him, but something stopped him. A nagging voice in the back of his head (which faintly reminded him of Pepper, which reminded him of silk sheets. Mmm) was reminding him that he still had a lot of work to do before the morning. If it had just been some silly little Stark Industries work, he'd have though 'fuck it,' and gone for the mysterious shawarma, but this was Iron Man. This was serious. And he really wanted to show up tomorrow on the SHIELD base as an expert in thermonuclear astrophysics, because wouldn't that be cool.
Regardless, shawarma popped into his head a couple more times after that. Right after shocking Bruce (wonderful science buddy, and wonderful fun– once he stopped being all paranoid-y) on the Helicarrier, he was about to invite him to get shawarma after all this cube bullshit was over. Captain Spangle-Tights interrupted him, though, and by the time Red-White-and-Boyish-Charm was gone, the thought had slipped from Tony's mind.
So truthfully, it didn't surprise Tony when shawarma popped into his head again. This time, he was thinking a lot about the missile he was shouldering. He was calculating which thrusters he would have to use to turn up and towards the portal, he was staring at Stark Tower for the last time (just like Christmas), he was wondering how long it would take for Bruce to shrink back down to from angry monster to shy scientist, and he was listening to the phone ringing. He stared fiercely at the part of his display that read 'calling Pepper Potts,' willing her to pick up and reveling in the little photo of her smiling. God, he wanted to hear her voice, just one last time. But as he flew through the wormhole, watching the call fail, hearing Jarvis shut down, and aiming the missile as best he could with his last breath, he thought one final thousand things at once. He thought about all the glory-days stories his dad had told him about Captain America, and how it turns out good 'ole dad was right again. He thought about Thor's hammer, and what kept it glued to the ground when anyone else tried to lift it. He thought about what sort of things Bruce must remember from his unique (and quite impressive) temper tantrums. The thought about some new arrows he could have made for Clint. He thought about where Natasha hid half of those guns of hers, because she always had more than she seemed to be carrying. He thought of the feel of Pepper's skin beneath his hands, and the sound of his name on her lips, and her name on his. And for God knows what reason, he thought of shawarma, and well damn, if he'd known he'd be dying today he would have taken those twenty minutes that night to give the whatever-it-is food a go.
Too late now, he thought, finally, as he closed his eyes, and for whatever reason, a little part of him hoped the shawarma place hadn't been destroyed in the battle for Manhatten.