(no subject)
[ Hands. Over the past few days, Tony's found a few specific things about Nike he's liked in particular, and one of those things is her hands. Contrary to his recently acquired peeve of people handing him things, people grabbing hold of him, and creeping up behind him, Stark favored her hands. They were delicate, and yet, gracefully elegant. Would it be a cliche to call them royal? They weren't the least bit weak, and quite talkative when her expression nor her voice could convey her thoughts or feelings. He liked watching what they did candidly, like play the piano, or run through her hair. Piano especially, as waking up to the very sight of her playing was the most comforting thing he could've beheld. But that was besides the point.
He really didn't mind. Not at all. Her hands were absently resting on his chest, and tonight she actually had a chance of getting a good night's sleep. As he dozed, his thoughts graced how soft they were, and he could only wish that he could feel them, splayed across his chest flat, not limited to what was and wasn't steel, or giving off that faint blue.
A new generation of weapons... with this at its heart.
Cold. Everything grows cold, and that warm, feathery touch of hers is replaced by blistering hot shrapnel and a melodious chuckle. He can't breathe, as someone mutters into his ear, and his chest fills with ice water. He can't move at all, paralyzed by nano-sonic wavelengths.
Weak. Selfish.
Unconsciously, he lunges forward out of bed, tossing the gentle hand away from the reactor in a fluster, making every desperate move to get away. In his grief-stricken nightmare, he lies still, staring death in the face.
Shame you had to bring her into this. I would have preferred she live...
Pepper's isn't the only face he sees, as in real time, he reaches for the wall next to the bed, and falls from the sheets onto the carpeted floor, still gasping for air. ]
He really didn't mind. Not at all. Her hands were absently resting on his chest, and tonight she actually had a chance of getting a good night's sleep. As he dozed, his thoughts graced how soft they were, and he could only wish that he could feel them, splayed across his chest flat, not limited to what was and wasn't steel, or giving off that faint blue.
A new generation of weapons... with this at its heart.
Cold. Everything grows cold, and that warm, feathery touch of hers is replaced by blistering hot shrapnel and a melodious chuckle. He can't breathe, as someone mutters into his ear, and his chest fills with ice water. He can't move at all, paralyzed by nano-sonic wavelengths.
Weak. Selfish.
Unconsciously, he lunges forward out of bed, tossing the gentle hand away from the reactor in a fluster, making every desperate move to get away. In his grief-stricken nightmare, he lies still, staring death in the face.
Shame you had to bring her into this. I would have preferred she live...
Pepper's isn't the only face he sees, as in real time, he reaches for the wall next to the bed, and falls from the sheets onto the carpeted floor, still gasping for air. ]