Tony is quiet, and Pepper is worried because this isn't really normal for him. Paul has already left for St. Louis, they're dressed nicely, sitting in the living room, and Tony hasn't said a word for several minutes. She looks at him, but he catches her gaze and lightly shakes his head even as he manages a small smile.
He's not ready to talk about it.
Pepper suspects he's uncomfortable with the situation, but he did agree to go, and Tony doesn't back out of personal agreements nowadays, not the way he used to before Iron Man. In this past year she's noted a real change in his attitude towards commitments, and that scares Pepper a little, because it gives her a sense of hope for the future.
A hope that could just as easily die in a firefight in some other country, Pepper knows, and feels connected to so many other women across the country in the same position. Being the one left behind is hard, and Iron Man armor is no guarantee that Tony Stark won't end up a fatality.
Aunt Ruby comes downstairs, looking elegant in a dark dress. She nods approvingly at both of them when Tony stands, and goes to the closet for her good coat.
St. Casmir's is a small brick church only a few minutes away, tucked along one of the highway turnoffs. The parking lot has only a few vehicles in it; mostly working trucks and one or two family cars. Wreaths are on the big wooden doors, and when Pepper walks up the steps, the sweet spicy scent of incense lingers on the air around the doors.
A little crone in a purple hat and dress standing there holds out programs, and smiles at Ruby, greeting her softly in what seems to be Polish. Ruby nods and takes the programs, then steps into the dim interior of the church. Pepper and Tony follow her inside.
The wooden pews gleam in the light from the stained glass windows, and candles are everywhere; in front of statues of Mary in niches, in long racks in alcoves at the sides of the church. Aunt Ruby moves up to the ninth pew and genuflects, then moves in.
Pepper follows suit, and then Tony; she's startled at his easy, full knee down, but hides her reaction when he comes to sit by her on the pew. Aunt Ruby sets the kneeler down and moves onto it, thin arthritic hands clasped in silent prayer.
After a moment, Pepper joins her, closing her eyes. It's both comforting and self-conscious at first, but she lets herself mentally recite her familiar and personal prayers, feeling them amplified by love, relaxing in the serenity. When she finishes, crosses herself and moves back to the pew, Pepper feels better.
A bell chimes; the small congregation gets up when the priest and acolyte enter, and the service begins.
000ooo000ooo000
Tony tries to relax, but he's trembling, and working hard to hide it. Memories are crowding in on him thick and fast, strong images he hasn't brought to mind in years, and the sensory input of St. Casmir's is amplifying them. Good memories mostly, but a few are painful.
Fortunately the simple rituals come back easily enough, and Tony finds himself comforted by the familiar actions that carry him through the service. The lessons are short and meaningful; the psalm rich with poetic beauty. Even the sermon, which is about the importance of taking time to appreciate the world we have, is to the point and delivered by a lean, wise-eyed priest with a low, melodious voice.
Tony drifts a bit, remembering Sundays in years past, sitting with his mother, going through catechism, being confirmed a lifetime ago. It's like a time machine, this odd hour on a Sunday morning, tinged with emotional sepia.
The call to confession comes, and hesitantly kneeling, Tony Stark does for the first time since his parents died, praying hard and fast; his mind reeling through the many, many years of sins and pain.
He feels a bloom of warmth within his chest when the priest gives absolution.
The collection plate goes by; Tony adds his donation along with Pepper and Aunt Ruby's, glad it's generous without being ostentatious. The priest gives a general welcome, glance flickering to Tony, but if he recognizes him, says nothing.
Then it's time for Communion.
Tony isn't sure he can; or that he even deserves to, but when it's time to stand, Aunt Ruby looks at him, her gaze warm and compassionate. He nods, and moves out of the pew, genuflecting, and the three of them go to the altar rail.
For a moment as the three of them kneel there together, Tony looks at Pepper at the rail; her serene expression and elegant profile make him blink hard.
Head bowed, Tony accepts the wafer and sips the wine, and for one moment in time finds grace for the man he was, is, and will be.
000ooo000ooo000
Later, as they pack their bags, Pepper walks from her room to his, and touches his shoulder. "Are you okay?"
Tony looks at her, a soft smile crossing his face. "Yes. It's . . ." he turns fully from the suitcase on the bed and pulls Pepper into his arms. " . . . it's just been a long time since I've been in a church."
Pepper nods; in all the years she's worked for him, Tony has never attended any religious service as far as she knows. He'd even passed on Obadiah's funeral, showing up at the wake instead.
Tony sighs. "In fact, haven't gone to Mass since my parents died."
She hugs him, aware of the enormity of that. He hugs her back.
"I just . . . I'm not a good man, Pepper," he whispers in to her hair. "I probably never will be, for all my talk about right and wrong. I've screwed up so many things in life, most of them for my own ends, and even though I can *see* what needs to be changed, it's not as easy to do that as it would be to just keep fucking up."
Pepper gives a little laugh, the sound buried deep in his shoulder where her face is pressed. "Of course it would, but turning a reputation around doesn't happen overnight, and you're making the effort. That's what counts."
He pulls away, looking doubtful; Pepper cups his face and pulls him closer, rubbing her nose with his. "Tony, I'm going to tell you something I never thought I would. I pray for you. I do. Every time you get into that Suit and head out, I pray that you stay safe and alive and come back to me. It's selfish, I know, but I can't afford not to ask because I love you."
Tony blinks, hard. "Love *you.* Going to marry you, you know."
Her laugh is startled, tinged with tears. "Tony—" but he cuts her off with a good, deep kiss and sighs afterwards.
"I know, I know—in good time, not right now, I get it. But I do have this habit of getting my way, especially when I know it's for the right."
"That remains to be seen," Pepper warns him, but smiles just the same.
000ooo000ooo000
The goodbyes are quiet and heartfelt; Pepper can see that in Aunt Ruby's eyes, Tony is family now, and that feels both right and good. There are two grocery bags of Thanksgiving leftovers going back to Malibu with them, along with fresh eggs and a newly made batch of chocolate chip cookies. Pepper is sure the latter won't last as long as the plane ride, given Tony's propensity for them.
Aboard though, Tony is quiet; unusually so. At first Pepper frets that he's still melancholy about going to church, but when she brushes a hand across his forehead to move his bangs, the heat of his skin startles her. "Tony, you're burning up," she murmurs, concerned.
He blinks at her. "I'm just tired," Tony murmurs in a monotone.
"You're sick," Pepper announces, and sighs.
A sick Tony Stark is officially No Fun. In her time working for him, Pepper has seen her boss through hangovers, stomach flu, food poisoning, an earache and an impacted wisdom tooth, and every one of those incidents has been a battle of wills with Tony using every ploy from bullying to shameless manipulation to get out of her directives.
Tony Stark does not *like* being sick, and tends to deny it vehemently; a fact that drives Pepper up the wall.
"I'm taking your temperature," she murmurs, heading to the first aid locker in the jet.
"No."
"Don't make me get the rectal thermometer."
"You *would,* wouldn't you," he grumbles, not happy at all, but it's all the protest he puts up, and that worries Pepper.
The quick check with the ear thermometer reveals a fever of 101, and she feeds him some acetaminophen and apple juice. When Pepper suggests he stretch out in the cabin bedroom, Tony doesn't argue and lumbers off.
She hears him sneeze several times.
Pepper checks over his schedule; there are a few things that can be postponed and others that can be phoned in, so in a matter of twenty minutes she's cleared things so he can rest up at home for the next two days. She adds a grocery order and sends it to Jarvis so that she'll have the ingredients to make turkey soup when they get in.
The first thing Pepper does upon arriving home is to make Tony take a hot shower and bundle into bed. He agrees with dour reluctance, taking more juice before ambling off towards the bedroom.
Pepper makes her way to the game room and finds Dummy in sleep mode, and Rrrrrrr napping on the pool table in a pile of socks. There's a note pinned to the felt of the table: Your cat needs more toys. Cute lil sucker, through—R
She smiles. Rrrrrrr stretches and wanders over for petting, blinking her eyes happily. Pepper opens the door to let both occupants out. Rrrrrrr seems delighted at the freedom and skitters around. Pepper looks at Dummy. "Keep watch on her and don't let her climb anything, got it?"
Dummy whirrs in agreement and rolls off. Pepper makes her way to the kitchen, unpacks the delivered groceries as well as the leftovers, and begins to make soup, humming to herself. It's only when she sets the burner on simmer that Pepper realizes how tired she is herself, and frowns.
She *can't* be sick as well.
No, Pepper argues with herself. Too much to do as it *is* with Tony out.
Then she remembers all the kissing and cuddling and other things they've . . . done, and flushes a little. Great. Scent marked *and* infected.
Pepper pours orange juice and goes in search of acetaminophen.
000ooo000ooo000
Tony notes that Pepper is in her fluffy new bathrobe when she brings him a mug of soup just after twilight. He sits up, feeling the congestion in his head shift, making him a little dizzy. He snuffles. "Otay, you were right."
Pepper sneezes, catching it in the crook of her elbow, and the mug of soup jiggles but doesn't spill. Tony gives a tired laugh and reaches for it, setting it on the nightstand before taking Pepper's hand and pulling her to him. "You god it too, huh?"
She glares at him, her eyes watery as she curls up next to him. "Yeb. Thanks for sharing."
"Hey, *by* bodily fluids are *your* bodily fluids," he tells her, and reaches for a Kleenex, punctuating his comment with a juicy honk.
They lie there, sluggish, as the sun sets out on the Pacific. Pepper fishes for tissues and blows her own nose, sighing. "We deed steam."
Tony smiles.
000ooo000ooo000
The Jacuzzi bath in the master bathroom of the mansion is to decadent what Stark Industries are to missiles. Tony uses the bedside console to dial up the precise temperature, bath salts and music in quick dance of his fingers. Pepper watches as he slowly gets up and shuffles around to her side of the bed, holding out his hands.
"Ubby, ubby, Potts. We're gonna ged par-boiled."
Pepper lets him tug her up, grumbling when he gets her to her feet. She's dizzy, but allows him to led her off to the master bathroom. Once there, though, the humid vapors rising from the bubbling water definitely look inviting, and she begins to pull off her robe.
"Slow downd. I wanna watch!" Tony tells her, grinning. She sticks her tongue out at him and peels off her sweats with no artistic finesse. Tony is pretty utilitarian in his undressing too, although Pepper is amused with his moment of shyness when he covers his furry groin with his hands.
"You are *nod* modest," she chides him as she pins her hair up in a sloppy bun. Tony bats his eyes and poses demurely for a moment.
"I jus' don't wand to poke your eye ouwd."
That makes her laugh, and cough, and reach for more tissue. Pepper motions for him to get into the tub first, and Tony does, gingerly, settling in with a grimace that makes it clear the water is just a *tad* too hot for the Stark family jewels. Pepper laughs at that and goes down the steps carefully, sighing with pleasure at the sensation. She sinks into the water amazed at how much room there is in the tub.
Too much apparently for Tony; he scoots over to her, and pulls Pepper so her back is up against his arc reactor. "Mmmmmm."
"I'm not your personal flotation device," she tells him, words and head clearer now thanks to the steam.
Tony laughs. "Newsflash, Potts, you've been holding me up for years and we both know it. Mostly in a metaphorical sense, but of late . . ."
Pepper smiles; it feels good to get the acknowledgement, delivered with honesty and admiration. There are times when Tony can say just the right thing, and this is one of them.
"The bath was a good idea," she murmurs, "I do feel better."
"Me too," Tony replies, and there's a gentleness, a sense of comfort to his voice that warms her more than any hot water. "I should break out the flotilla of navy ships I have and we could stage a battle. More fun to fight against someone."
Pepper grins. "Navy ships?"
"Oh yeah. I had a box full back when I was a kid. It was one of the few bribes my mom used to get me clean, in fact. Destroyers, aircraft carriers, tankers, cruisers, you name it, I had it. When everything was in that tub, there wasn't too much room left for me."
She's charmed at the image of a little Tony bellybutton deep in sudsy water, making noises and bombing ships with soap. "And you won every battle?"
"Mostly they were massacres," Tony confesses with mock-sadness. "I restaged the Pearl Harbor invasion quite a lot."
"A bath that will live in infamy," Pepper replies in the same grave tone.
Tony's smirk is crooked. "Didn't *you* have any tub toys, Potts?"
"I . . ." she hesitates, because it's *so* embarrassing, and sharing embarrassing things has never come easily to her, certainly not with this man above all other people, but Tony is quiet, waiting for her to continue, so Pepper takes a breath and plunges on. "I played Weather Girl. I used to write on the tile wall with the bar of soap, and show all the cold fronts and low pressure systems and draw happy suns . . ."
Pepper trails off because although Tony is not making a sound, his shoulders are shaking with suppressed laughter, his dark eyes bright. She closes her own and sighs. "I knew I shouldn't have told you," comes her grumble.
"No, no, I think it's cute," Tony rushes in, still manfully holding back his mirth. "And when you had lots of bubbles did you predict snow?"
"Avalanches . . . which would never happen in Kiowa, since we don't have any mountains, but it didn't matter."
"And how many bars of soap did you wear down with these *dire* reports?" Tony wants to know, grinning.
Pepper finally smiles back. "Oh more than a few. I had to stop when my mother found the dried remains on the wall during her shower and got mad. 'That Ivory is for *you*, Ginnie girl, not the tiles!' she told me, and made me clean it all off."
They're both quiet a moment, and Tony rubs his cheek along her neck, hugging Pepper close.
"You can write on *our* walls anytime you want," he tells her in a whisper.