A/N: So this is embarrassing and rather than try to explain or make up excuses, I'm just going to leave this here. Do with it what you will. /explains anyway.
Also, saw The Avengers at midnight. Mind blown. New story hopefully soon. Bug FishyIcon about it. See what happens.
Follow-up to the last 'chapter' with Tony meeting Pepper's parents will hopefully come soon. [Served as a major problem when it came to trying to update this because I wanted to update with the follow-up rather than something else. But screw it, I wanted to write Pepperony.] Then again, consider this the pre-follow-up. ...exactly.
I want to re-title this story. Any ideas?
Post-IM2. feat. srs-buisness Tony.
You think too much.
His heart is artificial, so does that mean that any time it beats—or rather in his case hums—a bit stronger for anyone in particular, does that mean that his feelings are artificial as well?
He sits alone in his workshop for days on end and can very well spend hours studying empty spaces before him and debating that which makes him who he is and everything that it entails. JARVIS will occasionally chime in with words of math and science—a diagnostics test is complete, the latest stock rise or fall—, perhaps a quip about the weather and the necessity of Vitamin D in the human body, but often times the words are lost on the man who hardly hears them.
Instead, he rubs his hand to his chin thoughtfully, stubble scratching against fingertips and leaving him to consider the finer prospects of perhaps shaving the misshapen goatee. Anything to keep his mind occupied and away from thoughts that he assumes have to deal with his eminent demise.
Tony Stark doesn't sigh, and on the rare occasions that he does so it is often times due to the fact that he has successfully gone a staggering x-amount-of-hours without sleep or he is bored out of his mile-a-minute mind.
And yet today he sighs of his own volition. He sighs because he doesn't know how else to respond to the very thought that has been nagging at the back of his mind ever since an earlier conversation that week.
Since when has Tony Stark ever not known something?
Heaving a heavy breath, the man tilts himself forward to rest his forehead to his palms, elbows locked tightly against the desk before him as images of the his prized hot rod flutter across the many screens adorning it. He lets the heel of his hands dig into his eyes as his mind starts churning out thought after thought, twitching through different options and means of trying to worm his way out of this one.
There is no worming his way out of this one.
The realization strikes him then, and in retaliation a series of calculations and varying ends assault his mind's eye and he tries and falls to successfully distract himself.
But since when have human relationships become calculations?
All things considered they very well could be, according to him. Person A plus Person B equals a hopefully successful and happy union, so why in the world couldn't this one be as simple?
It isn't that he doesn't want to meet her parents—he admired them as much as he feared them—but rather he found himself focusing too heavily on the fact that he had absolutely no background knowledge in order to consult when it came to taking this step. So much so that he was actually making himself more afraid of their meeting than he had been to begin with.
'What if's were bombarding him with such tenacity that it was actually starting to make his head hurt.
What if they didn't like him? What if he said the wrong thing? What if they frowned upon the relationship? What if he made himself look like an ass more so than usual? What if he made the wrong impression? What if he did something that made her never want to speak to him and end whatever it was right then and there?
What if they were too concerned over how Tony Stark was Iron Man and how it impacted Pepper's safety and well-being?
What if he had to tell them that it was the very same thought that often kept him up late at night, breaking into a cold sweat and fumbling around in the sheets in the empty bed struggling convince himself that they are all just dreams? That the nights she spends with him are the only restful and peaceful ones that he has, her fragile body curled against his as he clings to her and refuses to let go until she wakes him and chastises him for sleeping in so late? That there are times during the day he catches himself glancing over at her, gauging her every expression and action if only to make sure that she'd alright?
As true as it is, maybe he will never admit to the fact that to him, the most calming thing to fall asleep to is the feeling of her breath against his collar bone as he brushes hair away from her face, nose pressed into his neck as the arc reactor in his chest casts a dim blue light across the room.
It hums and whirs pensively in his chest cavity beside the organic mass thumping beneath his ribs, and it isn't until he pulls away one hand to absently tap against it that he realizes he isn't sure which one is actually keeping him alive.
He sits back in his chair and slumps, not overly appreciative of the deep, philosophical debate that comes with studying himself.
In his opinion, nothing good nor uplifting has ever come from the character study of Anthony E. Stark.
He thinks back to Natasha Romanov's evaluation of him and gives a humorless laugh aimed at himself.
As JARVIS speaks to him in that terribly monotonous false voice of his he closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose as he sits in the dark waits.
Sometimes, he does want to be alone; he wants to be left to himself and his toys, the gadgets tucked into every other drawer or the next addition he can make to Iron Man. Tony casts a look in the direction of red and metal metallic suit of armor and sneers as it brings him back to thoughts of safety and procedure.
It isn't until he begins debating the fragility of the human life does he realize just how absolutely terrified he is of being alone. Of having no one to turn to in those last few moments to leave lasting words of wisdom or a scathing remark to. Of having no legacy or having anything to look back on after a lifetime of enjoying himself and to feel nothing but pride for.
To have no small hand gently wrap around his so that he can think maybe, just maybe, that he did something worthwhile with his life.
Tony Stark has everything before him: money, business, charisma, and the all the things he thought he could possibly need in the earlier years of his life, but none of the things that he wants.
He has no wide circle of friends, no true happiness or something that he will proudly deem as his own creation as something that does not bring violence or pain.
Tony Stark is not afraid—Tony Stark is scared out of his mind and has been left to his own thoughts for far too long.
He is a far cry from annoyed when there is the sound of a door opening somewhere beside him accompanied by the soft padding of bare feet against the workshop floor as he is approached. A breath of relief escapes his lips as the hand falls from his face, and he slowly opens his eyes as the footsteps stop and a pair of hands have reached out to him.
Gratefully, the man accepts the gesture and pulls her to meet him, the woman folded in on herself as they tuck their bodies close together in his desk chair and words that he doesn't hear are murmured into otherwise empty air.
She smiles and briefly he wonders if it is too overly sentimental to say that perhaps she owns both of his hearts. Maybe she always has.
He wants to tell her how much she means to him, wants to hold her where she is and declare that he'll never let go because he doesn't know how to but he doesn't because there aren't enough words to say so.
He wants to do all of these things that he can think of: promise her safety and security, being a better man and doing anything he can to prove himself deserving of her patience and affections as he slowly loses himself to his insecurities.
He wants to share with her his life and legacy, tell her the thoughts that have been plaguing his mind for months now and the ones that have been gnawing at him for the past hour as he sat in his workshop alone and struggled with the implications that he's afraid of their future and everything and anything it entails.
Instead, Tony Stark is too absorbed with the realization that he really did enjoy kissing Pepper Potts.
"Tony..." she murmured, pulling away just long and far enough to level her gaze with his, fingers knotting in the hairs at the base of his skull. "Is something bothering you?"
He had a moment of doubt and considered owning up to his fears, but when he looks at Pepper instead he shakes his head with a smile grin just for her. "Nah, I've just been thinking."
She lets that linger in the air for a moment before slowly returning the gesture and he has to struggle to keep himself from looking too relieved.
Pepper hums, leaning forward until her mouth is just barely brushing against his. "You think too much."
Tony barely gets out a laugh.