Fandom: Iron Man (movieverse) Rating: R Pairing: Tony/Pepper Summary: It's Pepper who's hurt, but it's Tony who needs the comfort...   Disclaimer: Most of the characters and situations in this story belong to Marvel Comics, Fairview Entertainment, Dark Blades Films, and other entities, and I do not have permission to borrow them.  All others are mine, and if you want to borrow them, you have to ask me first.  No infringement is intended in any way, and this story is not for profit.  Any errors are mine, all mine, no you can't have any. Banner by the amazing Cincoflex!         ********* He’d asked Jarvis to let him know when she roused, so that the smell of cooking food would reach her as soon Pepper opened her door.  The AI reported that she was taking a shower, so Tony took his time fixing supper--homemade soup from the freezer and a loaf of bread, fresh fruit and some of the imported chocolate she loved.    “What’s she doing now, Jarvis?” he asked, slicing an apple.    “Getting dressed.  May I suggest that you postpone any intense discussions until after she has eaten?  Judging from her vital signs, Ms. Potts’ blood sugar is quite low.”    “Do my best.”  Tony tossed a blueberry into his mouth.  He’d fished out a t-shirt and slacks, and appropriate underwear, from Pepper’s half of the closet and left them outside her door, instructing Jarvis to let her know they were there when she woke.  “Are Rhodey and Happy up to date?”  He’d asked Jarvis to let them know that Pepper was recovering but still feeling somewhat indisposed, nothing more.    “Colonel Rhodes is currently unavailable, but I have sent him a précis by e-mail.  Mr. Hogan says he understands, and wishes you both, I quote, ‘best of luck’.”    “Right.”  Tony picked up a spoon and stirred the soup.    “You can cook?”   He turned to see Pepper watching warily from the doorway, and nearly bit his tongue trying not to mention that she’d been the one who’d made the soup.  “Cooking is science, Potts,” he said finally.  “Just because I prefer engineering to chemistry...”    “Touché.”  She smiled faintly, and came in, still looking as though she thought he might bite.    Tony made a deliberate effort to relax, and waved casually at the table and its two place settings.  “Grab a seat, this is almost ready.  What do you want to drink?  There’s water, milk, iced tea, and about a zillion different kinds of juice.”    “Tea’s fine.”  Pepper sat down, a bit stiffly.  “Um...can I...do anything?”    “Nope.”  Tony filled two glasses with ice and tea, and ladled soup into bowls.  “There you are, bon appétit.”    Fortunately, he didn’t have to coax her to eat.  Pepper’s manners were always impeccable--except for the occasional beer belching contest--but it was clear despite them that she was quite hungry.  Tony watched in satisfaction as she ate, sporadically remembering his own meal.  Neither of them said much besides asking for the butter, but that was fine with him.  Whatever conversation they were going to have to have was not going to be easy, and Jarvis was right as usual--she needed nourishment before they went any further.    Two bowls of soup later Pepper was looking much less fragile.  Tony retrieved the chocolates from the counter and shoved the box carelessly across the table, and her eyes lit.  “Oh, I love these.”    He managed to hide his flinch at that as she chose one and began nibbling.  Pushing to his feet, he opened the refrigerator and poured her a glass of milk, setting it down near her right hand.  She blinked at it, her face sobering, and then looked up at him.  “I always drink milk with these.”    It was a statement and a question both, and Tony nodded.  “I know.”    Pepper put down the half-eaten confection and stared at the glass, looking as though her appetite had fled, but then she picked up the milk very deliberately and took a swallow.  Her eyes met his over the rim of the glass, and she set it back down.  “Tell me.”    Tony hesitated, suddenly not sure where to start or how much to tell her, but her gaze was adamant.  He decided to stick to the barest of facts for the moment.  “You were running along the cliff trail here yesterday morning, and part of it collapsed.  You fell down the hill and into the water.  I...had to resuscitate you.”  His breath hitched at the memory.    Pepper’s eyes were huge, and her hand rose to touch her breastbone.  “Okay,” she said faintly.  “That...fits with what they told me at the hospital.”    Tony gestured vaguely at her head.  “Apparently the knock to your head caused you to lose some memory.  According to Jarvis, the best thing for you is familiar routines, but--”    “My apartment,” she whispered.    He nodded.  “They tore the building down right after you moved out.  The next choice would be your office, but we renovated the main building in ‘07 and you’re not even in the same wing anymore.”    Pepper rubbed her forehead as if it hurt.  “Okay...okay.  How about my new place, then?  I can’t imagine that I threw out all my old furniture too...”    Here we go.  Tony really, really didn’t want to try to explain this part, because he did remember the kind of man he’d been four years ago, and he had a pretty strong feeling that he knew how Pepper had felt about him then.  She’d respected him as her employer and as a businessman, but not at all as a person, and even if he had changed--   He didn’t want to see the contempt in her eyes.  Not for himself, and definitely not for her.    “Not exactly.  Um.”  He took a deep breath.  “Pepper, you moved in with me a year ago.  This is your home now.”        Her system must have declared a limit on shocks for the day, because Pepper felt very little in response to Tony’s statement.  Bafflement probably headed the list--she honestly couldn’t see how she would have allowed herself to get into that kind of situation.    Behind that was a small sense of discomfort at the way Tony was looking at her.  No, not quite that, exactly, but there was something going on with him that she didn’t understand.    “So,” she said carefully, trying to find her footing.  “I don’t work for you any more.”    Tony’s head rocked back in mock dismay.  “You certainly do, Ms. Potts.  I can’t get through a meeting without you, let alone a whole day.”  He grinned at her, some of his normal attitude returning.    Pepper shook her head.  “I--how could I do that?  It doesn’t make sense.”  Her throat was tightening at the thought.  Out of the corner of her eye she saw Tony twitch, as though forcing himself not to move.  “I can’t believe I slept with my boss.”    “It wasn’t just sleeping, Pepper,” Tony said, and there was an odd undercurrent to his voice, almost as if he were pleading with her.  “We’re lovers.  Were.  Are.  Hell.”  He sat back in his chair, exuding frustration.    “Semantics,” she said weakly.  When did I turn into someone spineless?  When did I get stupid?    “No,” he said firmly, but then closed his mouth to cut off further words, and waved a hand.  “Look, don’t...worry about it right now.  All your stuff is here, and you can set up a room any way you like.”    “I can’t stay here,” Pepper protested automatically.  “Maybe a hotel...”    Tony winced again.  “I’m afraid that’s not an option.  There are, um, security concerns.”    She looked up sharply, but there was no hint of the mischief he displayed when he wanted to yank her chain--just honest concern.  And the realization brought home the fact of how much had been taken from her--four years.  Four years of history, current events, advances in science and art, beautiful days and nights, all gone.  How can I even do my job?    Pepper shuddered.  “You aren’t obligated--I mean--”  She couldn’t think how to phrase her sentence.  How could she explain that she didn’t want to be beholden to him, no matter what had happened during the missing time?    A muscle jerked in Tony’s jaw, but when he spoke his voice was level, even soothing.  “Leave our, ah, relationship out of things for the moment, it’s...not relevant.”  He swallowed hard.  “You’re still an employee of Stark Industries, and of me in particular.  You were hurt on my property.  In essence, I--and the company through me--have an obligation to you.”    When he put it like that, it almost made sense, except that Pepper knew quite well that giving her a place to stay was way outside the realm of the company’s responsibility.  But what are you going to do, Virginia?  Find a hotel room and stare at the walls while you wait for your memory to come back?  At least here things are kind of familiar.  And if he’s right about security...    “All right,” she said at last.  “For a couple of days, at least.”    “Deal.”  Tony nodded once, for an instant the consummate businessman.  “There are other things you should know--”  Pepper held up a hand.  “I think,” she said, trying to speak easily, “that I’ve learned enough for right now.”  The ring in her ears had never quite abated, and her head was spinning with confusion and utter dismay.    “Okay.”  Tony deflated a little.  “Why don’t you go...relax or something.  Watch a movie, Jarvis has them all on tap, or maybe read a book...”    Normally, Pepper’s first impulse would be to offer to help with the dishes, but right then what she wanted most was space to think.  Or not think.  She nodded and stood, getting two steps away from the table before turning back to retrieve her chocolate and the milk.  As she carried them out of the kitchen, she could swear that Tony was hiding a smile.    In the end, she went back to the guest room; it was more enclosed than the TV room, and she felt better in its cool privacy.  At her request Jarvis laid on some Chet Baker, and Pepper sat by the window to finish her dessert and try to make sense of this new and bewildering world.    She didn’t touch the putative relationship between herself and Tony just yet; that was too big, and too alien.  Instead, she considered her situation as it was--injured but not incapacitated, employed in a position that--for the immediate future--she couldn’t fulfill, and living in a house that she didn’t consider her own in any way.  I feel like I’ve fallen into an alternate universe.    Tony kept trying to reassure her, though, in his own awkward way.  Whether her job would wait for her was an open question, but he’d made it clear that for now it was hers, and Pepper was grateful.  If I don’t get my memory back soon, I’ll have to resign...but it’s too soon to worry about.    She had plenty of money saved up; her salary was outrageous, but as Tony had pointed out more than once, he was outrageous; and there were days when Pepper felt like she earned every penny and then some.  She had options.    And she had a place to stay, even if the mere idea made her uncomfortable.  It was, at least, somewhat familiar; right now, Pepper admitted silently, familiar was a big deal.  So much had vanished from her life in one blow--her home, her work--even Tony was different.    Pepper finished her milk and set the glass aside.  I keep coming back to him somehow.  Whether or not she wanted to think about the relationship he claimed, he seemed to be behind everything.    Well, he had been, in essence, the main focus of her life for several years now.  Keeping him more-or-less on track was a more than full time job that required every scrap of her attention, and it was a good thing she loved a challenge, or Pepper would have resigned long before.  Working for Tony Stark was often frustrating, frequently annoying, sometimes amusing--and never boring.    And there was plenty to admire about him.  Not just his genius, which wasn’t exactly something he could control anyway.  He could be generous with time, attention, and money; he supported a dozen different causes with casual grace, loved to set up secret college funds for students who caught his eye, and had been known to buy out half the stock of a toy store in person when the Toys for Tots people came calling.  He was witty, yet able to abandon dignity at a moment’s notice, and despite his careless lifestyle he adhered to a private code of ethics that most observers never guessed existed.    And when he pays attention, he can be very sweet.  Pepper smiled sadly at the milky glass on the little table next to her chair.  He hadn’t even asked--he’d just filled it for her as though he did it every day.    Maybe he does.    The thought was deeply uncomfortable, and Pepper pushed it aside.    Her head was starting to hurt again; not the pounding of earlier, but a slow ache that heralded exhaustion.  I think I need more sleep.  Either that, or just to stop thinking; but aside from alcohol, which wasn’t her oblivion of choice even without a head injury, sleep was the only option.    Pepper pushed herself out of the chair and ran a tongue around the inside of her mouth.  Tony’s guest rooms included small containers of toiletries, much like hotel rooms, but the brand of toothpaste wasn’t to her taste and she suspected it had passed its expiration date anyway.  “Jarvis?”    “Yes, Ms. Potts?” the AI answered.    “My things are in...Mr. Stark’s room, right?”    “That is correct.”  Was there a hint of sympathy in the artificial voice?  She couldn’t quite tell.    “Where is he right now?”    “Tony is currently in the basement garage.”    Working on something, no doubt, whether it be a new invention or a carburetor.  Pepper picked up the glass, and the bathrobe that smelled like cologne, engine grease, and sleepy male, and carried them out.    The dishwasher was running, so Pepper washed the glass and left it in the dish drainer.  The robe she took with her to his room, which was not quite as chaotic as it usually was.  The sunset outside the windows was stunning, but Pepper felt too nervous to stop and admire it.    The bathrobe’s habitual spot was just inside the door of the walk-in closet, but Pepper almost dropped it as she opened that door, because the scent that washed out of it was not quite the one she was expecting.  Essence of Tony, yes, much like the robe; but mixed with it was the vanilla scent she herself preferred, and the two made a whole that gave her stomach an odd twist and, for some reason, made her eyes prickle with tears.   Pepper frowned, hung up the robe with brisk efficiency, and glanced over the closet, doing her best to pretend it belonged to someone else entirely.  Tony’s things had been bunched over to the left, and the space on the right was decently filled with what she easily recognized as her own clothing.    It was the first concrete proof she had that Tony was telling the truth--about everything.  There were her work suits, her jeans and t-shirts, three formal dresses she recognized and three she didn’t.  Below, in a very long, three-tier rack, were her shoes.    It was the shoes that got her.  Pepper stared down at them, her one indulgence and her private pleasure, lined up tidily pair by pair.  Among them were sets that were outside even her considerable budget--fantastically expensive, hyper-fashionable shoes available only to those with far more money than anyone should have.    Like one Tony Stark, multi-billionaire playboy and wastrel.    Did I give up my principles for that?    The idea made her feel ill.    One of the skills of an effective PA was the ability to shut off emotion when necessary.  Pepper threw her mental switch, set her chin, and collected a few sets of casual clothing from the hangers, and marched out.  The bathroom off the bedroom was enormous, but Pepper spared the jacuzzi and the huge shower not one glance, instead spreading out one of her t-shirts on the long sink counter and dumping onto it the toiletries that she could identify as her own.  She added a hairbrush and a few hair ties and then hesitated over the bottle of her perfume, the closet’s combined odors troubling her.  Finally she scooped it up.  I’ve been wearing it longer than I’ve known Mr. Stark.  It’s mine.    It was a few minutes’ work to distribute her things around the room that she’d chosen, but doing so didn’t make Pepper feel much better.  The room was still bare and impersonal and very definitely not her own.    Pepper brushed her teeth with stolid determination, changed into the long shirt she preferred for sleeping in, and climbed into the big bed.  The sunset had faded to a few streaks of brilliant color, but she told Jarvis to darken the windows all the same.  Somehow she didn’t want the world looking in on her.    The shirt smelled musty, as if it had been sitting too long, but Pepper buried her face in the pillow and forced herself to concentrate on numbers, a calm flow of primes that was her equivalent of counting sheep.    Eventually, somewhere around 1481, it worked.        “Breathing and heart rate indicate that Pepper has succumbed to sleep,” Jarvis said quietly, and Tony looked up from the engine block he was reassembling.    “Good.  She find everything she needed?”    “It would seem so.”    Tony sighed, and reached for a rag to wipe his hands.  He’d cleared off to his workshop to give Pepper a chance to move around without fear of running into him, and it seemed to have worked.  According to Jarvis she’d retrieved a few things from their--his--dammit, their room, and gone to bed, and Tony decided to be grateful that she hadn’t cleaned everything out from sheer indignation.  Her horror at the idea of their relationship had been pretty obvious earlier.    I can’t blame her.  Hell, I was lucky she agreed to move in with me the first time, and that was after I did some growing up.  Not that it had been particularly easy, either--Pepper was, after all, responsible for his image among other things, and had seemed almost more concerned about how a relationship with him would hinder her ability to do her job than how it might damage her own reputation.    Reputation, hah.  The truth was, Tony had had every intention of marrying Pepper as soon as he could talk her around to the idea, and let the scoffers deal with her being one of the wealthiest women on the planet and his wife, but it looked like his plans had just gotten interrupted.  And what he was left with was a shaken, bewildered woman who believed that becoming his lover had been a betrayal of her own principles.    It hurt.  Tony knew it wasn’t remotely Pepper’s fault, but it still hurt him badly to be so, well, rejected.  He hadn’t fully realized how much of his own sense of well-being was supported by Pepper’s love and care for him.  She had become his touchstone; she was the reason he was able to keep doing what he did, to go on making amends without breaking apart.    It’s just like the last time, genius.  You have to show her that you’re different.  Sooner or later she was going to learn what had happened over the last four years, including the changes Tony had gone through; and he had to believe that she would swing around to him again, like she had the first time.  She has to.    Because there is no other option.    He couldn’t go on without her.  He knew that.    Tony tossed the rag aside and regarded the engine without much interest--he’d chosen to work on it because he could do so almost without thinking at all, and thus not screw up anything important.  But now that Pepper was asleep and he didn’t have to be ready to...well...whatever she might require, he could turn his attention to something else.  Like the suit, which he wasn’t ready to have her see without some prior explanation anyway.    I’m not sure she even remembers the rest of this morning.  Tony tapped his fingers absently on the cloth stretched over the implant cover; it had taken him a while to find a t-shirt without a hole in the front.  Finding out he had an arc reactor in his chest had seemed to be the final straw that had made her pass out, though Tony figured that the multiple shocks of the morning plus, duh, head injury, were all responsible.  He shuddered at the memory of her pale as wax, her freckles standing out far too well against her skin as he rubbed her hands and cursed at her.  It had been far too reminiscent of her appearance after her fall down the cliff.    She’s fine, he told himself silently.  As fine as she can be, anyway.  Jarvis was monitoring her every breath, and would alert Tony instantly if something went wrong.    And yet all he wanted to do was go back upstairs, slide into bed beside her, and hold her.  So that he knew she was there, and fine, and breathing.    “Suck it up, Stark,” he muttered, and stood up.  Time to concentrate on something else.    But as he called up the suit schematics, Tony left the music off.    Just in case.          Chapter One     Chapter Two     Chapter Three     Chapter Four     Chapter Five    Chapter Six    Chapter Seven    Chapter Eight    Chapter Nine    Chapter Ten    Chapter Eleven    Chapter Twelve    Epilogue     Iron Man Home Feedback