Tony checked himself out of the Hospital the same day he got in. The doctors advised against it, but he knew they only wanted to keep him there so they would get paid for it. He was completely fine; it wasn't like this hadn't happened before. Of course, he heard a nurse murmur something about a damaged liver, but he was almost positive that it wasn't about him.
...
When Happy dropped Tony off at his house, he searched for Pepper, only to find she wasn't there. This disappointed him. He felt bad for being a total dick, so he was going to try to do right by her. Maybe even give her a proper apology, but he couldn't very well do that if she wasn't anywhere to be found nor answering her phone. Tony had given up the search and gone to work on a car in his shop.
Pepper had apparently got his convertible towed back to his house, and into his shop. There were a few dents in the front end, and a busted headlight. Not to mention some serious scratches on the driver door. Tony stared at the damage and ran his hand through his hair. He definitely did not remember doing any of that to his treasured car.
It would be simple to fix. Thank God he was Tony Stark.
...
After three hours of working on the convertible, he had taken most of it apart, and lay in the midst of the parts when he finally got fed up with waiting for some kind of contact from Pepper. He dusted himself off as he stood up, and went to sit in front of the computer screen.
"Call Pepper," he ordered, spinning around once on the chair as the familiar ringing tones were heard.
One ring.
Two rings.
Three rings.
Four rings.
And she picked up on the fifth.
"What do you want, Tony?" It almost sounded like she was whispering.
"I, uh, I just need t- I-I-," he looked down at his feet and put his face in his hands. This was harder than he thought.
"I don't like socks," he muttered eventually, examining the sock on his foot. He heard Pepper scoff on the other line.
"You called me in the middle of a d- while I'm very busy to tell me that you don't like socks?" Tony also heard the slight agitation and anger in her voice.
"No! No. I called to see how you were doing.. And tell you tha-that- what I'm trying to say is that I need you to..." Tony paused and frowned. "You're on a date?"
Silence.
"Pepper, are you on a date?" Tony repeated, trying not to sound upset. "Pepper?" She sighed.
"Yes, Tony, I'm on a date, but don't overreact it's j-"
"Is it with Robert?" Tony cut her off. She sighed again.
"Yes, Tony, it's with Robert. But I have to go, he's waiting for me to come back to the table."
Tony wasn't really sure what to say to her. To tell her to stop dating him would be rude and suspicious. To tell her that she was being stupid would be well, stupid, and a lie. To say anything else would cause him trouble. Then again, after what he did, he was already in trouble.
"Why didn't you tell me you were going on a date?" Tony murmured, as he inspected his fingernails.
"I.. I.. I didn't want you to get mad. I didn't want you to do anything abnormally stupid." Tony heard how she enunciated the word stupid.
"I would ne-" Tony began, but this time, Pepper cut him off.
"No, Tony, seriously. I have to go. Please don't do anything rash," She said, and then hung up.
...
Tony sat in front of the computer, listening to the dial tone, and trying not to break something in his anger. How could Pepper go on another date with that guy? And how could she not tell me? Tony thought.
"Am I not good enough for her?" Tony murmured to himself.
He expected Jarvis to say something about his comment, but Tony was glad he didn't.
Tony eyed the cabinet where he kept the alcohol, and stood up to walk toward it. Upon opening it, he considered his options. Drink and be miserable, or drink and be happy. Pepper was angry with him either way, so he might as well be as happy as he could without her.
Inside the cabinet was a vast choice of any kind, shape, size, and brand of booze anyone could imagine. And Tony still denied the fact that he was an alcoholic. Although, Tony was only interested in one - he was a scotch man. He grabbed a 1 litre bottle of his favorite drink - which was luckily at the front - and immediately took a large gulp. After removing the bottle from his lips, he looked at it and smiled.
He felt better already.
"Jarvis, prepare the suit!" Tony said to the room.
"Sir, there are currently no missions on your file, and I highly advise against-"
"Oh, stuff it," Tony muttered as he walked toward the suit in the midst of it's preparation; scotch in hand.
He didn't care. Not about what anyone thought of him, nor what they wanted. And as he stepped into the boots, he barely even cared what Pepper would want. As the front of the suit was placed on him, a small part of his brain told him it was a bad idea. Or maybe that was just Tony imagining Jarvis' voice. But Tony still didn't care; the booze made his pain go away, even if nobody believed he had any pain.
He was, after all, Iron Man. Wasn't he supposed to feel no pain, or be invincible or something like that? Tony didn't believe any of it. He definitely wasn't invincible, he still got bumps and bruises when he went on missions, but that was just physical. Physical pain was nothing compared to what Virginia Potts was capable of making him feel.
...
"Watch where you're going!" A woman screeched from her car, as she honked and swerved her vehicle around the highway, and away from Tony inside the Iron Man suit.
Tony just waved his hand at the yelling woman and flew faster ahead of her, maneuvering himself around other cars and trucks; still keeping a firm grasp on the now nearly-empty bottle of scotch. Some part of him knew that what he was doing was wrong, because nobody wants a drunk man flying around in a metal suit, nevermind a superhero. It was considered slacking.
More than anything, though, he was surprised nobody had done anything about his flying-under-the-influence yet. Not like there was a large streak of crime for it. Tony was more than sure he had flown passed multiple police vehicles, none of which had turned on their lights, sirens, nor chased after him. But he didn't care, he was having fun. Because he still believed that if Pepper could go out and have fun, then so could he.
Just because she had said don't do anything rash didn't mean he couldn't go flying in the suit. When he was in the suit, Tony Stark didn't exist, and only Iron Man was present. There were no rash actions for Iron Man. Well, normally anyway. So basically he had found a technicality in Pepper's choice of words, that allowed him to do as he pleased but still have an excuse.
"Hey!" Tony yelled, as a truck came toward him, causing Tony to go around it and fly straight into the wall of rugged mountains, falling to the ground in front of it; the bottle of scotch breaking over his head moments after.
...
A/N: Okay. I wasn't even planning on continuing this fic, but here it is. I wrote chapter two. Tell me what you think please? :) Ohh and for anyone wondering, it's looking like Tony will, indeed, be going to a rehabilitation center, so if you come up with a possible name for it I'll credit you in the chapter it is introduced in :)