he just stares at the world.

[notawastedlife]

They didn't exactly allow alcohol for clinic in-patients, and Tony hadn't been able to get out to sneak any in. He was sober. He had clairty of thought. He was undampened.

He wasn't fond of the state. Especially when all his remarkable mind was doing, right then, was running things over and over in his head.

I saw young Americans killed by the

Comments

[wildlyconflictd]

There was a distinct and presently very vocal part of Pepper that felt responsible for Tony being in that bed. Oh, logically she knew he probably would have reacted the same exact way regardless, but that guilty part of her kept echoing all of the things she'd told him on New Year's Eve, like a constant mantra pushing up against her better sense.

She'd not been so scared since…well.

Pepper herself could have used a drink, had actually considered it once or twice in the blur of mostly sleepless hours spent since the incident. Accident. Altercation. Whatever completely innocuous word was technically appropriate to describe the person you care most about willfully engaging a psychopath and nearly getting killed in the process. By this point, there was little reason for her to still be there-Tony would be fine, and there was nothing she could do for Peter-but the house seemed much too far and much too empty.

As if she could have actually left in the first place.

Showered but not rested, she watched him from the doorway, looking neat but weary and positively horrible by her normal ridiculously high standard.

"Hey."

[notawastedlife]

Squeeze, and on the sound of her voice, release. He flattened his hand on the bed and used it to try to push himself to a less reclined position, wincing as he did so.

"You look horrible," he greeted, trying to muster up some of his usual glibness. It came out a little flat.

[wildlyconflictd]

"I haven't been sleeping. This guy I'm inexplicably fond of nearly got himself killed doing something stupidly heroic," she answered, unmoving from her place by the door, both her tone and expression solemn.

"You want a cup of coffee?"

[notawastedlife]

"Relax, Petey'll be fine," Tony said, glancing over at the comatose figure in the next bed. He knew what she meant, he just couldn't resist.

He paused, reconsidered. "Physically. I didn't think you were doing coffee?"

[wildlyconflictd]

"I'm not offering as your employee, I'm offering as a friend." There had been another, vaguely sarcastic reply floating around half-formed in her brain, but Pepper was much to tired to bother with it. "I need a cup. I'm happy to make you one, as well, if you would like."

[notawastedlife]

"Ah. Right. Well, then, sure. Thanks. Could you make it Irish? No?" Tony said, more in an anticipation of the response to this than anything.

[wildlyconflictd]

"I don't have anything here," Pepper answered in lieu of her customary curt reply, because he'd been laying in a clinic bed for two days and she knew him better than anyone. There wasn't a lot of sense in insisting he go cold turkey when he'd be right back at it as soon as possible.

She hesitated, one hand against the door frame. "I'll see what I can do," she added, and then slipped off to start a new pot of coffee.

[notawastedlife]

Tony just stared at where she'd been, running that over. Not entirely what he'd anticipated.

It was bad, then. But then, he knew that. Knowing that had been what he'd mostly been doing for the last two days. He let himself fall backwards on the bed again, much to the relief of his ribs.

[wildlyconflictd]

Had Pepper been less worried or more concerned with being aware, it likely would have seriously disconcerted her how relieved she was to have something to occupy her. To wit, to have Tony occupy her, comfort in the familiarity of, of all damned things, finding him some booze. But there it was, and she was entirely beyond caring what it said about her.

It was nearly fifteen minutes later when she reappeared, one mug in one hand and two in the other, and took a seat in the chair by Tony's bed. Wordlessly, she held one cup out to him and then another, the promised coffee in the first and a very good blended scotch in the second.

[notawastedlife]

Tony had estimated the time it would take, then pushed himself into something approaching a comfortable sitting position by the time she got back. He accepted first one, then the other cup, drinking from each of them in turn before he set the blended scotch on the bedside table.

No sense wasting it all, he never knew when he'd get another.

"I made headlines again," Tony said, picking up the paper as he put down the cup and holding it up. ARMORED ATROCITIES, with a photo of the armor from a while ago, since no one had actually been taking pictures of said armored atrocities. It had been the same suit, he supposed, with a different paintjob. "Did you know we had a paper? I didn't know we had a paper."

[wildlyconflictd]

This was the first time they were having a proper conversation since New Year's Eve, and Pepper knew Tony had to be aware of that. It wasn't in his nature to be serious about anything if he could help it, but she found herself staring dumbly at the presented paper and then slanting her gaze away, throat working briefly against the emotion she was having more trouble than usual keeping in check.

"I thought that you were going to die," she began as she stared down into the faintly quivering liquid in her cup, and then corrected, "I thought you were dead. And that my quitting was going to be the last real conversation we ever had." She'd thrown up, but guessed he probably didn't need to know that.

[notawastedlife]

He let the paper hide him for another beat or two, then folded it up, glanced at the picture again as he did so.

Same suit, different paintjob, but he really hated it staring out from under ATROCITIES like that. It was unsettling. It wasn't the only thing.

"Didn't," Tony said, finally, with a faint, apologetic shrug. Partly, the apology was for the length of the reply. "Wasn't."

[wildlyconflictd]

"I know that I've criticized you, and I've complained about the suit a lot," Pepper began again, still not looking up from her coffee. "And I'm not taking back anything I've said, but even though I have been staring down the barrel of an emotional breakdown for fear of losing you, and that- Really, Tony, is not fun- I'm proud of you." As far as she could recall, this was her first time in telling him as much, which was far from fair.

She looked up again, fixed him in a subdued gaze. "I really am. You're my best friend, and I'm very proud of you."

[notawastedlife]

That was not a phrase Tony heard very often. Or had heard. Even when he did achieve things, people tended to take them as expected, which he supposed it was his own fault.

It made him, as much as anything, a touch uncomfortable. He didn't know what to do with it. It didn't feel like a phrase that belonged around him.

"For what, surviving getting mugged by a lunatic?"

[wildlyconflictd]

"No," Pepper patiently answered. "For having the courage to help people. For having the courage to help yourself. For trying to change for the better when everyone, including me, warned you against it. I know that there are people here who are upset with you, who blame you for things that happened in their world, but they don't know you. I know you, and I'm not for a minute suggesting you're perfect-" She hesitated, her mouth quirking briefly up. "Obviously we're both aware of your faults. But you're a good person, Tony. I don't just believe that, I know it. I couldn't love you as much as I do if you weren't."

And there it was, the dreaded L-word, but she was so damned tired and maybe it needed to be said. Maybe the look on his face was a little too telling, and maybe he needed to hear it.

"Although," she added, "if you could keep yourself from getting killed, that would be very helpful."

[notawastedlife]

That word, he had heard, and applied to him, but usually it either had his whole name appended to it by someone in a crowd, or it was a sign it was time to tell Happy to hit the gas and get him out of there.

He stared at her, a little blankly. Then he smiled at her, a little more uncertainly than was his usual wont.

But Tony was nothing if not adept at gaining his footing, even if it was shaky. "Well," he said, "I can't die yet, can I? I haven't saved the world, yet."