Fic: Iron Man; Ten Seconds Before Sunrise
In my infinite wisdom, I decided last night that it would be an utterly amazing idea to write some kind of Iron Man fic to every single song from Tiësto's "Elements of Life Tour" and then to, oh-so-creatively, work the title of each song into the fic somehow.
This, for the record, adds up to 40 songs, and therefore 40 fics.
Ten Seconds Before Sunrise
Summary: Iron Man Movie!verse; Tony/Pepper. One-Shot. Set between Iron Man and Iron Man 2. Tony finds himself awake before...well, damn near everyone.
Tony isn’t sure what woke him. Might’ve been a nightmare, or some kind of sound, or something with the reactor. All he knows is that ten seconds ago he was very soundly asleep, and now he’s too wired to do anything but get out of bed.
So he does, padding across the dark room in bare feet. He’s tempted to go right down to his workshop, maybe work on one of his cars for a change - but then remembers this is not his mansion back in Malibu. This is not even one of his homes, but the penthouse of a five-star hotel he can’t recall the name of off the top of his head.
Instead he slips quietly into the living room, where a large flat-screen television immediately turns on, sensing that Tony is in the room. He ignores it and the inane chatter CNN’s early-morning newscasters, veering right and heading for the kitchen.
There is no coffee in the pot, and Pepper won’t be by for another hour at least to make it. Tony frowns at the coffee pot, wishing Pepper had just taken him up on his offer to stay in the penthouse. It does have three separate bedrooms, after all, and Tony really only needs the one with the biggest bed (and sometimes he doesn’t even need that).
But Pepper had declined (all six times he’d asked; he’d kept track) and is probably dreaming good dreams in her own room, two floors down.
Tony wonders if Pepper’s good dreams ever involve him.
Turning his thoughts back to his coffee - really, the lack thereof - Tony supposes he could call room service and have them bring him a cup. Or several. Surely a facility like this fine establishment is capable of serving coffee at…five thirty-seven in the morning. Surely there are a few early birds up already. Bakers, at the very least. Surely one of the bakers knows how to make coffee.
Then he realizes that calling room service would require talking and he doesn’t feel like doing that right now. Besides, making a cup of coffee for himself will hardly kill him.
Tony puts on a pot, some blend he remembers Pepper smiling at and assumes she likes (he does hope she’ll like it, honestly) and while it brews he passes back through the living room and out to the balcony, continuing to ignore the talking heads on CNN.
It’s been a long time since Tony has seen this side of morning. The air feels cool and thick against his bare arms and the cool, damp slate under his feet is enough to make his toes curl and send shivers racing up his legs. He quickly picks his way over to one of the patio chairs and tosses aside the soaking cushions before sitting down.
Only a small handful of puffy clouds still hang in the washed out, blue-gray sky - the last hangers-on from the summer storm that had rolled through sometime during the night, and aside from those clouds the sky is perfectly clear.
Perfectly clear and maybe ten seconds away from sunrise.
Deftly plucking a pair of sunglasses someone had left behind off the low, wooden table beside him, Tony slips them on just as the rim of the sun bursts over the horizon. He smiles - he wins this round, sunshine - and leans back in the chair, making himself comfortable.
Pepper finds Tony asleep in the lounge chair shortly after getting ready to tear the city apart in an effort to find him but shortly before she had the chance to call Happy and start making that happen. Jaw agape, she stares blankly at him, wondering what on earth could possess him to think sleeping outside was, is, or ever would be a good idea. For the millionth time in the past ten years she feels the urge to strangle him and put them both out of their misery.
Of course, she doesn’t do that. Nothing of the sort.
Pepper only sighs, pushes her hair out of her face, and returns to the penthouse’s kitchen to pour Tony a cup of coffee, knowing that very little in the world will wake him up faster than a cup of coffee.
And while she’s at it, she pours a cup for herself - because it smells like Tony somehow managed to get a hold of her favorite blend.
Might go back and fiddle with this a bit more in the morning (as it is late and I am tired and those two things combined tend to be a catalyst for odd stories with me), so if anything changes...that's why. XD;;
For additional fic and a list of other projects, see this post.
This, for the record, adds up to 40 songs, and therefore 40 fics.
Ten Seconds Before Sunrise
Summary: Iron Man Movie!verse; Tony/Pepper. One-Shot. Set between Iron Man and Iron Man 2. Tony finds himself awake before...well, damn near everyone.
Tony isn’t sure what woke him. Might’ve been a nightmare, or some kind of sound, or something with the reactor. All he knows is that ten seconds ago he was very soundly asleep, and now he’s too wired to do anything but get out of bed.
So he does, padding across the dark room in bare feet. He’s tempted to go right down to his workshop, maybe work on one of his cars for a change - but then remembers this is not his mansion back in Malibu. This is not even one of his homes, but the penthouse of a five-star hotel he can’t recall the name of off the top of his head.
Instead he slips quietly into the living room, where a large flat-screen television immediately turns on, sensing that Tony is in the room. He ignores it and the inane chatter CNN’s early-morning newscasters, veering right and heading for the kitchen.
There is no coffee in the pot, and Pepper won’t be by for another hour at least to make it. Tony frowns at the coffee pot, wishing Pepper had just taken him up on his offer to stay in the penthouse. It does have three separate bedrooms, after all, and Tony really only needs the one with the biggest bed (and sometimes he doesn’t even need that).
But Pepper had declined (all six times he’d asked; he’d kept track) and is probably dreaming good dreams in her own room, two floors down.
Tony wonders if Pepper’s good dreams ever involve him.
Turning his thoughts back to his coffee - really, the lack thereof - Tony supposes he could call room service and have them bring him a cup. Or several. Surely a facility like this fine establishment is capable of serving coffee at…five thirty-seven in the morning. Surely there are a few early birds up already. Bakers, at the very least. Surely one of the bakers knows how to make coffee.
Then he realizes that calling room service would require talking and he doesn’t feel like doing that right now. Besides, making a cup of coffee for himself will hardly kill him.
Tony puts on a pot, some blend he remembers Pepper smiling at and assumes she likes (he does hope she’ll like it, honestly) and while it brews he passes back through the living room and out to the balcony, continuing to ignore the talking heads on CNN.
It’s been a long time since Tony has seen this side of morning. The air feels cool and thick against his bare arms and the cool, damp slate under his feet is enough to make his toes curl and send shivers racing up his legs. He quickly picks his way over to one of the patio chairs and tosses aside the soaking cushions before sitting down.
Only a small handful of puffy clouds still hang in the washed out, blue-gray sky - the last hangers-on from the summer storm that had rolled through sometime during the night, and aside from those clouds the sky is perfectly clear.
Perfectly clear and maybe ten seconds away from sunrise.
Deftly plucking a pair of sunglasses someone had left behind off the low, wooden table beside him, Tony slips them on just as the rim of the sun bursts over the horizon. He smiles - he wins this round, sunshine - and leans back in the chair, making himself comfortable.
Pepper finds Tony asleep in the lounge chair shortly after getting ready to tear the city apart in an effort to find him but shortly before she had the chance to call Happy and start making that happen. Jaw agape, she stares blankly at him, wondering what on earth could possess him to think sleeping outside was, is, or ever would be a good idea. For the millionth time in the past ten years she feels the urge to strangle him and put them both out of their misery.
Of course, she doesn’t do that. Nothing of the sort.
Pepper only sighs, pushes her hair out of her face, and returns to the penthouse’s kitchen to pour Tony a cup of coffee, knowing that very little in the world will wake him up faster than a cup of coffee.
And while she’s at it, she pours a cup for herself - because it smells like Tony somehow managed to get a hold of her favorite blend.
Might go back and fiddle with this a bit more in the morning (as it is late and I am tired and those two things combined tend to be a catalyst for odd stories with me), so if anything changes...that's why. XD;;
For additional fic and a list of other projects, see this post.