Fandom:
Iron Man (movieverse)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Tony/Pepper
Summary: Tony takes advantage of serendipity.
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. No infringement
is intended in any way, and this story is not for profit. All others
belong to me, particularly Cedric, and if you want to borrow them, you
have to ask me first.
Any errors are mine, all mine, no you can't have any.
My apologies for the tardiness of this chapter. I got home last
night, sat down to finish it, and woke just before midnight...
Thanks to Cincoflex for medical advice, and to curls and flowergoddess for canon affirmation!
*********
A roaring tumble of thoughts avalanched through Tony’s
brain. Fury, fear, a flash of admiration for the idea, and a
bizarre frustration at the possibility of dying now. It seemed doubly unfair, when he hadn’t even managed to marry Pepper yet. Or finish revamping the big arc reactor, or follow up all the invoices, or--
“Sir,” Jarvis said urgently, “you have less than
ninety seconds before loss of oxygen begins to affect your
function.”
Tony didn’t bother replying. Despite Jarvis’ habitual
sarcasm, his suit wasn’t designed to isolate him from the
atmosphere; air intake was filtered, but Tony breathed the same basic
O2 as anyone around him. Adding air tanks was something
he’d considered for possible future modifications--far
future--but they would have added too much weight and bulk to the
current design and weren’t actually necessary anyway.
Usually.
He had to trust that Jarvis had managed to snap the vents closed before
the cement had slid inside. Tony couldn’t see anything; the
gray sludge surrounded him, a gluey weight that held his arms
half-raised over his head. Part of his brain was already counting
down the seconds before what air he had inside the armor would be
gone.
He activated his foot repulsors; the roar was muffled, and while he
lurched upward a fraction, the motion was far too slow. Fuck, how much of this shit did they use?
There wasn’t any time.
Tony slipped into a state he’d experienced many times before,
where conscious decision-making was sidestepped in favor of rapid
intuition. Clawing frantically at the cement above him, like
swimming through the thickest of quicksand, Tony managed to bend
slightly at the waist. He didn’t bother calculating angles;
either this would work or it wouldn’t, and if it
didn’t--
“Divert power to chest RT,” he ordered, sucking in a stale breath and hoping it would be enough.
The thrust that blasted from his arc was huge, even more impressive in
close quarters than it had been during his tests. Tony felt
himself flung upward, a backwards hurtle in the dark; something slammed
into him from behind in a stunning blow, and then light seeped in and
he was pinwheeling through the air.
The roar ceased as Jarvis cut the power, and then Iron Man fell out of
the sky as quickly as he’d fallen into it, smacking into the
ground with a force that knocked Tony’s remaining breath from him
despite the internal repulsors.
“Open the damn helmet,” he croaked as soon as he could
muster speech. The lock clicked, and sunlight and hot dusty air
poured in, dazzling him.
Tony just lay still for a moment, simply breathing and
appreciating. He’d come close to death more than once
recently, some of the possibilities very ugly, but this one had been
worse than most. I wonder if they would have chiseled me out after a week or so...
His back throbbed viciously where he’d hit something on the way
out; even the repulsors couldn’t protect him from
everything. “Report,” he muttered, his mouth dry with
the aftermath of adrenaline.
“There are no hostiles in the immediate vicinity,” Jarvis
told him. “Suit damage is still being calculated; I
strongly suggest you remove what cement you can before it hardens,
particularly from the helmet and what vents you can reach.”
“Right.” Tony pulled in one more blessed, acrid
breath and pushed up to a sitting position. His armor was a mess;
the cement didn’t coat it completely, but most of the metal was
hidden beneath smears and globs of gray muck. Tony flicked away
what he could from the joints and visor, shaking it off his hands and
letting it spatter to the ground. It wasn’t going to harden
immediately, but given the low humidity, the faster he could clean the
better off he would be.
It was hard to stand, given the way his back ached, but Tony managed
it. “What’s the status on the bad guys?” he
asked as he stamped his feet to knock off more cement.
“They appear to be retreating at high speed,” Jarvis
said. “It would seem that your escape has confounded
them.”
“Terrific.” Tony scowled at his suit and went on
scraping. “Hey, Jarvis, give me minimal power on the right
here.”
HIs idea worked fairly well; firing his palm repulsor at the lowest
possible setting more or less vaporized the cement, though it also
marred the finish of the suit beneath. Tony couldn’t bring
himself to care, really.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t reach the back of the suit without
removing it first, and while that was possible, he had no way to put it
back on again afterwards without the ‘bots or a couple of
friends, none of which were to hand. “You done
scanning? What have we got?”
His visor slid back down, and an image of his armor spun in the HUD,
highlighted in far too many places. “Structural damage to
the lower back, of which you are probably aware,” Jarvis said
austerely. “All posterior vents are still covered with
cement, as are many of the flaps. Pressurization may be a problem
due to the structural issues. Most importantly, radio is no
longer functioning; cause undetermined.”
Tony growled a bad word. Without the satellite radio, Jarvis was
cut off from himself back at home base, and Tony was cut off from any
possible help, up to and including Pepper and Rhodey. “Make
a note, Jarvis, we need to come up with an alternate form of
communication.”
“As you wish.”
Tony continued to scour away stray traces of cement, bending one leg
and then the other to work the stuff out of his knee joints.
“Did you manage to update Pepper?”
“Regrettably, no.” Jarvis raised the visor again, and
Tony glared at the scrubby landscape. To a degree, that was a
good thing; losing contact right after hearing he was trapped in cement
was not something Pepper needed to experience. On the other hand,
he’d just dropped off the radar, as it were, and she would
worry.
Fuck. Well, there’s nothing I can do about it right now.
“Wait until this stuff is about half-dried before you work the
flaps,” he instructed Jarvis. Too wet, and it would ooze
inside; too dry, and the flaps might be sealed. “As for the
vents...can we get enough air in the front?”
“Yes,” Jarvis said, then added, “As long as you are not involved in strenuous activity.”
Tony grimaced. “I’ll do my best.” Though
the escaping mercenaries still bothered him. It went against the
grain to leave the situation unresolved, and they would be much harder
to find the second time. “Can we take off?”
“With caution. Please remember that your stability is reduced.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Tony settled his hands into flight
position and rose carefully off the ground. There wasn’t as
much cement left on him, but he could feel the weight difference all
the same, a subtle imbalance. “Scan for the rest of
‘em.”
As if to make up for his humiliation, Fortune was smiling on him; the
remaining mercenaries, or at least most of them, were clearing out of
the area as fast as their repurposed army truck would let them.
Tony soared up and then down, and solved the problem with a small
missile into the engine; he’d managed to clean off his arm locker
before the cement glued that shut too.
He turned his back on the fireball and headed for home.
It was a long and weary journey. Without pressurization, he could
fly neither high nor fast, and there was no way to let Pepper know what
was taking him so long, short of landing and actually making a phone
call. Tony might have been tempted, except he wasn't entirely
sure that he could get back into the air afterwards; and as versatile
as the armor might be, it simply wasn't designed for long-distance
walking.
Not to mention, I'd look like an idiot.
No, in the end the best choice was just to keep going, and get there as
soon as he could. Tony did consider phoning and asking for a
pick-up, but then he would have to sit and wait, and that didn't appeal
either. His pride wouldn't allow Iron Man to ben turned into a
battered, gray-smeared spectacle at the side of the road.
By the time home came into view, he was exhausted and beyond thirsty,
and the sun had already set. He'd been gone almost twenty-four
hours and he could feel every minute.
Pepper wasn't in the workshop when he landed, which was
disappointing. “Where is she?” he croaked as soon as
the 'bots had the helmet off.
“Ms. Potts is upstairs speaking on the phone with Colonel
Rhodes,” Jarvis informed him from the house speakers. Tony
knew that the AI was already communicating with his uploaded self in
the suit, now that the pieces were within his grasp. “She
has been quite concerned.”
But Jarvis had apparently let her know that Tony had arrived, because
within seconds she came flying down the stairs, so quickly that she
actually ran up against the glass door before punching in the
code. Tony's lower half was still encased in metal, but he
stepped away from the assembly arms and into her frantic hug, squeezing
her hard and feeling his relief returned.
“I stink,” he mumbled after a moment, his voice hardly making it past his dry throat.
“Yes, you do,” Pepper said in his ear. “And right now I don't really care.”
Her voice was trembling a little, and Tony tightened his grip, feeling the tremble in her muscles as well. He absolutely hated frightening
her this way, but unfortunately it was sometimes unavoidable, and he
tried not to let the dichotomy eat at him. Pepper had eventually
accepted his need to redeem himself, and he did his level best to be
worthy of her trust.
"Does this mean you're not still pissed at me?" he finally whispered,
trying to lighten things a little, but she made a small impatient
noise.
"You're not that lucky, Tony Stark." Pepper pulled back enough to
cup his face in her hand and look at him sternly. "But it can
wait until later."
Before he knew it she was out of his arms again, hurrying over to the
kitchen area. Tony let the 'bots remove the rest of his armor,
stepping free as she returned with a bottle of water in each
hand. Tucking one under her arm, she opened the other and handed
it to him. "Slowly," she cautioned.
It was an effort to keep from gulping the liquid, but Tony managed,
taking slow swallows and giving the water a chance to wash over the
sticky tissues of his mouth. As he drank, Pepper began to herd
him across the floor--not, as he expected, to the shower, but instead
towards the stairs.
"Where are we going?" he asked, exhaustion making it hard to think now that he was safe home. "I really need to--"
"I know," Pepper soothed, switching bottles with him as they came to a
halt in front of the elevator door. "Upstairs."
He was too tired to argue even if he'd been inclined. Tony found
himself leaning on Pepper as the car rose upward, mindful of his own
reek but figuring muzzily that if she hadn't pulled away by then she
couldn't be too grossed out. "I would have, you know.
Called," he tried to explain, unable to summon the right words.
"If I could have."
"I know," she repeated, and slipped an arm around his waist, guiding
him through the master suite and into the bathroom. Taking away
the second empty bottle, she peeled him free of the neoprene liner,
making the small distressed noises she used when she was totting up his
injuries, then pushed him gently into the shower and turned the water
on full.
The hard streams were a blessing, and Tony braced his hands against the
wall and let them course over him, closing his eyes and trying to
muster the energy to reach for the soap. Before he found it,
though, the net sponge slid across his shoulders in a slippery caress,
and he heard Pepper's voice over the rush of water. "Do I want to
know how you got this bruise?"
"Probably not," Tony admitted, tilting his head enough to catch a
mouthful of water and swallow it; two bottles had barely taken the edge
off his dehydration.
She tsked, and went on bathing him, slicking soap carefully over the
cuts and bruises. It was a new thing for her; while they
occasionally shared a shower, her post-mission care of him was usually
limited to patching up whatever injuries he came home with, and making
him eat. Tony decided he liked the extra attention, though he
hoped that next time wouldn't require such an extreme mission
length.
Pepper made him turn, and he leaned back against the wall, drinking
more water and too tired to even make a suggestive remark as she moved
down his front. The warm water was easing some of the aches, but
he was going to need a horizontal surface very soon.
"Here." Pepper reached up and worked shampoo through his hair,
and Tony groaned faintly with the bliss of her fingers on his
scalp. He'd never realized how purely nice
it felt to have someone rub his head until he'd gotten engaged, and
there were times when he sat down at Pepper's feet and hoped at her
until she laughed and complied, but shampoo was better.
Somehow the strong caress of her hands unknotted tangles he couldn't
reach otherwise, either in his nerves or his mind, and this was no
different despite his weariness.
All too soon, though, she had finished and was nudging him back into
the nearest spray to rinse off before slipping out. Tony cracked
one eye to watch her dry herself hastily with a towel before she
reached for the robe that awaited her, ignoring the small pile of
clothes next to his discarded liner. Then she grabbed a fresh
towel, snapping it open and holding it out. "Come on,
Tony."
Patted gently dry, he was led to the haven of their bed; apparently
Pepper had decided that none of his damage required further
attention. Tony sat blindly down on the mattress, and Pepper
smiled and stroked the wet hair back from his forehead. "If I
bring you a sports drink, will you take it?"
The mere idea of the sweetness made his stomach clench, and Tony shook
his head; at this level of exhaustion, his body simply couldn't
tolerate anything more than water. Pepper sighed, and brought him
a third bottle from the little wet bar in the corner, along with a
couple of analgesics.
He drank them down and let Pepper pluck the empty container from his fingers. "You're staying, right?" he mumbled.
"Until you're asleep, at least," she agreed, sitting down next to him
as he sank back onto the mattress. "I need to give Jimmy an
update and clean up the bathroom."
"Uh-huh." Tony decided he didn't care, and rolled over to press
his face against the outside of her leg, sliding one arm across her
knees.
She sighed again, but this time it sounded contented. The last
thing he was aware of was her fingers stroking his aching temple.
The room was flaming with sunset when he woke. Tony stretched
gingerly, grunting at the various aches and then yelping when the
bruise on his back pulled, but he was starving, thirsty, and ready to
piss the bed, so he worked his way to the edge of the mattress and
forced his creaking muscles to pull him upright.
His back hurt, but he'd learned to tell the difference between
dangerous damage and the merely inconveniencing; the bruise felt deep,
but no more than a bruise. Tony stood up slowly and limped into
the bathroom, managing to get there without having to hold on to
anything along the way.
The first order of business was to relieve his strained bladder.
Tony was not entirely surprised to see blood in his urine, given the
location of the bruise, but there wasn't much and he decided to wait on
developments rather than mention anything to Pepper just yet.
As good as he knew the hot water would feel, he didn't think he was
quite capable of a shower yet. Tony washed his hands and found a
clean pair of shorts in the bathroom closet, and just as he was making
his way back to the bed, a familiar figure appeared in the
doorway.
"Where's Pepper?" Tony asked, sitting down on the bed a little faster than he'd have liked.
"Nice to see you too, Stark," Rhodey said amiably, and handed him the
glass of orange juice he'd brought. "She's in the kitchen.
Said she'd bring you dinner if you promised to stay in bed."
Tony passed up replying in favor of absorbing the juice, and Rhodey
went over to the little table next to the window and brought it back to
the bed, fetching its matching chairs next.
"Are we having a party?" Tony asked dryly as he set the glass down, and Rhodey shot him an amused look.
"Yeah, to celebrate you hauling your sorry ass home. You really
ought to let us track you, man, or at least tell us where you're
going."
"If I wanted the military on my tail I'd send up a flare," Tony shot
back; it was an old argument, but one that might hold more merit than
he'd previously thought. Eh, file it for later. He was really too hungry to consider it now.
Rhodey sprawled into one of the chairs in a posture at odds with his
undress uniform. "You doing okay, Tony? The doc said you'd
wake up pretty sore."
Tony, piling pillows against the headboard, shot a startled glare at Rhodes. "What doctor?"
"Dr. Phair, of course," Pepper said from the doorway, slipping smoothly
through it despite the large tray she carried. "I had her stop by
while you were asleep. You didn't even twitch," she added when
Tony turned the glare on her.
"I'm not that banged up," Tony grumbled as Pepper slid the tray deftly
onto the table. "We'll discuss this later, Potts."
"After you eat," she agreed, and Tony narrowed his eyes, but the smells
coming from the various dishes were making his mouth water and he set
that argument aside as well in favor of food.
Despite the almost-vanished sun it was really breakfast, cinnamon toast
and scrambled eggs and slices of juicy melon, and Pepper even let him
have coffee. That last made Tony suspect it was decaffienated,
but Rhodey was drinking it too so he couldn't quite tell.
The food shifted his mood from irritation to a soothed tiredness, and
he accepted the analgesics Pepper handed him without protest.
Rhodey sighed, and laid his napkin neatly by his plate, glancing at
Pepper, who was picking at her melon rind. "So what the hell
happened, Tony? I don't mind saying you freaked us out."
Tony shrugged, and winced. "I got ambushed, and my radio got knocked out. Jarvis, how did that happen?"
“The communications subsection was damaged when you struck the
wall,” the AI replied. “Incapacitation of both radio
and telephony systems was not expected; further design changes may be
required.”
“You’re telling me,”
Tony grumbled, leaning back gingerly against the pillows.
“Maybe it’s time to split that into two separate
sections.”
“I shall make a note of it,” Jarvis said coolly, and Rhodey snorted.
“Back on track, Tony. What do you mean, ambushed?”
Tony sighed, and explained. He kept it brief, not touching on the
sudden terror and fury he’d felt or how close he’d come to
not getting free at all, but judging from the set of Pepper’s
mouth and the tightening of Rhodey’s jaw, they both
guessed.
“Did you get them all?” Rhodey asked when Tony had
finished. His voice was hard, and Tony knew he was speaking not
as an Air Force officer but as someone who’d seen the
depredations wreaked by similar groups--someone who’d walked
through the ruined villages and counted bodies.
Tony rubbed his throbbing head. “I think so. Most of ‘em anyway.”
Rhodey nodded, and let it go. It went against the grain, Tony
thought bitterly, to leave the situation so unresolved, but there was
little he could do about it. Any survivors were long gone, and if
he’d stayed to hunt them, he might never have made it home at
all.
Once upon a time, he might not have cared so much, but now--
Now, he wasn’t the only one who mattered any more.
Pepper pushed back her chair and rose, stacking the plates neatly on
the tray. “Jimmy, I hate to kick you out,
but--”
Rhodes stood as well. “No, no--I should get going
anyway. Tony, you rest up, I’ll come by
tomorrow.” He leaned down to kiss Pepper’s cheek, and
picked up the tray. “I’ll drop this off on my way
out.”
Tony wanted to argue that he wasn’t an invalid, but exhaustion
was creeping up on him, and his back hurt from sitting. Rhodey
paused at the door to glance back, and if his grin was a little forced,
the gleam in his eyes was genuine. “Heal up
fast--we’ve got a party next week, you know.”
Pepper pointed meaningfully at the hall, and Rhodey chuckled and was gone.
Tony half-expected Pepper to ask about the party, but she was silent,
pushing the chairs in under the table and then kicking off the soft
slippers she was wearing. He watched as she shimmied out of her
sweatshirt, revealing a camisole, and approved on general principles,
but then she gestured at him. “On your tummy, Tony. I
need to look at that bruise.”
He complied, carefully stretching out on the mattress.
“Phair’s orders?” he asked in an even voice, still
irritated that she’d brought in the doctor while he was
asleep.
Her fingers were cool and gentle as she touched various spots, too
lightly to make him flinch. “We tried to wake you, but then
she said you didn’t need a hospital and to let you
sleep.” Pepper’s voice was as even as his own, but
the hot splash that landed on his spine startled him. “She
gave you a shot and you didn’t even move--”
Tony craned his head around to look at her, biting back the
grunt. The tears running down her cheeks hurt almost as much as
his back, but in a much different way.
Wordless, he held out a hand. Pepper wiped her face with the hem
of her camisole and climbed onto the bed next to him, lying back
against the pillows. Tony shifted carefully until he could lay
his head on her chest, wrapping an arm around her waist and feeling her
embrace him in turn, her hands avoiding his deeper bruises.
There was nothing he could say, no promise he could give. Tony
let his fingers caress the soft skin of Pepper’s hip, just above
the waistband of her yoga pants, and felt her slowly relax, giving and
returning comfort. Her breath stirred the hair on the top of his
head, and he was grateful even for the dulling ache in his back, all
the sensations reminders that he was alive.
“You’re not going to make me brush my teeth?” he asked eventually, on the edge of sleep.
Her chuckle followed him into dream.
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