(no subject)
biohazard girls
rating: pg
characters: Pepper Potts, Natasha Romanoff
warnings: There is a character in physical and emotional distress at the start of this story, including the threat of asphyxiation. She'll be fine - I don't write death fic - but please read or avoid as you need to.
author's note: For hufflepuffsneak, who prompted "The consequences of radioactive goop." You can thank SG-1 for my immediate and appalled reaction of, “That, that is angst incarnate, why would you prompt that.” Clearly I need to be exposed to more comic origin stories.
summary: What is given, can be taken away. Pepper knows this is true of life, of freedom, of air - and now her Extremis. Natasha is living proof, though, that who you are without that 'more' isn't lesser at all.
“Natasha?” Pepper asks, the word spilling out of her mouth with the thick slime that would choke her, suffocate her, forcing the word out because she could be hallucinating the other woman kneeling beside her, shaking out a blanket to guard herself and her hands as she leans in.
“You’re okay,” she tells Pepper as she wraps the polyester fabric around her, and the CEO can tell she is lying. It’s not as hard as she thought it would be.
“Natasha, don’t, you shouldn’t be -” She tries to push Natasha’s hands away, tries to keep her from touching the ooze that coats her own pale skin and plasters soaked clothing to every inch of her body, but the Avenger is ruthless and efficient and Pepper’s arms are trapped before she realizes it. It’s nice to think that’s why she couldn’t stop her, why she’s failed to ward her off; not that her hands shook, not that she couldn’t force them to move quickly, if at all.
“Stop,” Romanoff says, an undercurrent in her voice Pepper doesn’t think too long about, a terrible fury in her eyes that she hasn’t seen before. “Stark, I have her.”
And there’s chatter on the hidden ear piece, there’s a rumbling in the air, but it’s getting hard enough to keep her chest rising that Pepper don’t have the energy to spend on listening. There’s still slime catching in her throat, lingering in her lungs, and she convulses as her body fights to force it all out; and still Natasha holds on, holds on, her fingers white on the blanket and her hands steady on Pepper’s shaking frame.
“Stay with me, Pepper,” she says, brilliant red against the backdrop of broken glass and yellow gel, and Pepper can’t catch her breath long enough to answer.
There’s no Extremis left now, no force to make her body heal; it’s all soaked into the radioactive ooze pooled around them, drawn out for another mad scientist and his own brand of insanity. But she’ll try, oh God, she’ll try, and coughing out air and poisoned liquid alike, Pepper is glad she’s finally not alone.
It feels like the ending of a story, not the beginning of some fantastical superhero tale, and she’s okay with that. She’s okay.
She’s -
-
“Pepper?”
She looks up from the tablet, a smile already stretching her pale lips. “Natasha. Come in.”
Natasha enters the hospital room casually enough, but Pepper catches the faint hesitation that gives her lie of assurance away. She smiles.
“I’m not contagious, I promise.”
“You might want to mention that to Stark. He gave me very clear instructions about the decontamination shower I have to take once I leave,” Natasha responds, eyebrow arching, and Pepper’s quiet laugh turns into a cough. She pauses by the foot of the bed as Pepper turns her head and swallows, controlling the spasm before she looks back at the other redhead.
“It’s getting better,” she reassures her, and nods at the chair beside her bed. “Have a seat?”
Natasha does, settling in among the bouquets of flowers as she eyes Pepper’s tablet.
“Stark Industries probably wouldn’t fall apart without me, but let’s be honest, I’m not trusting Tony to try and ‘help’ and end up making a bigger mess than he started with.”
“Which explains why his private workshop was built half a continent away from the manufacturing plants,” Natasha replies, then takes a better look at her. “How are you doing?”
“As far as anyone can tell, I’m just Pepper Potts again, human of the normal garden type variety.” And she doesn’t miss it, the energy surging below her skin, the sensation of invincibility that made anything possible, the instinct to act without thought or care for consequences, for the people around her - but.
“Don’t let that stop you from doing anything,” says the woman who also falls under the 'ordinary’ category, and Pepper smiles.
“Can you imagine where we’d be if I did? Or you?” She stretches her free hand to catch Natasha’s where it rests by her bedside. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Natasha replies, her fingers warm under Pepper’s touch, and they sit in the peace for a moment. Then, “There’s also the fact that if we let being normal stop us, Tony would be attempting to rule the world, and that’s not something I like to imagine all that often.”
Pepper laughs again, bright and high and clear, and it doesn’t hurt at all this time around.
rating: pg
characters: Pepper Potts, Natasha Romanoff
warnings: There is a character in physical and emotional distress at the start of this story, including the threat of asphyxiation. She'll be fine - I don't write death fic - but please read or avoid as you need to.
author's note: For hufflepuffsneak, who prompted "The consequences of radioactive goop." You can thank SG-1 for my immediate and appalled reaction of, “That, that is angst incarnate, why would you prompt that.” Clearly I need to be exposed to more comic origin stories.
summary: What is given, can be taken away. Pepper knows this is true of life, of freedom, of air - and now her Extremis. Natasha is living proof, though, that who you are without that 'more' isn't lesser at all.
“Natasha?” Pepper asks, the word spilling out of her mouth with the thick slime that would choke her, suffocate her, forcing the word out because she could be hallucinating the other woman kneeling beside her, shaking out a blanket to guard herself and her hands as she leans in.
“You’re okay,” she tells Pepper as she wraps the polyester fabric around her, and the CEO can tell she is lying. It’s not as hard as she thought it would be.
“Natasha, don’t, you shouldn’t be -” She tries to push Natasha’s hands away, tries to keep her from touching the ooze that coats her own pale skin and plasters soaked clothing to every inch of her body, but the Avenger is ruthless and efficient and Pepper’s arms are trapped before she realizes it. It’s nice to think that’s why she couldn’t stop her, why she’s failed to ward her off; not that her hands shook, not that she couldn’t force them to move quickly, if at all.
“Stop,” Romanoff says, an undercurrent in her voice Pepper doesn’t think too long about, a terrible fury in her eyes that she hasn’t seen before. “Stark, I have her.”
And there’s chatter on the hidden ear piece, there’s a rumbling in the air, but it’s getting hard enough to keep her chest rising that Pepper don’t have the energy to spend on listening. There’s still slime catching in her throat, lingering in her lungs, and she convulses as her body fights to force it all out; and still Natasha holds on, holds on, her fingers white on the blanket and her hands steady on Pepper’s shaking frame.
“Stay with me, Pepper,” she says, brilliant red against the backdrop of broken glass and yellow gel, and Pepper can’t catch her breath long enough to answer.
There’s no Extremis left now, no force to make her body heal; it’s all soaked into the radioactive ooze pooled around them, drawn out for another mad scientist and his own brand of insanity. But she’ll try, oh God, she’ll try, and coughing out air and poisoned liquid alike, Pepper is glad she’s finally not alone.
It feels like the ending of a story, not the beginning of some fantastical superhero tale, and she’s okay with that. She’s okay.
She’s -
-
“Pepper?”
She looks up from the tablet, a smile already stretching her pale lips. “Natasha. Come in.”
Natasha enters the hospital room casually enough, but Pepper catches the faint hesitation that gives her lie of assurance away. She smiles.
“I’m not contagious, I promise.”
“You might want to mention that to Stark. He gave me very clear instructions about the decontamination shower I have to take once I leave,” Natasha responds, eyebrow arching, and Pepper’s quiet laugh turns into a cough. She pauses by the foot of the bed as Pepper turns her head and swallows, controlling the spasm before she looks back at the other redhead.
“It’s getting better,” she reassures her, and nods at the chair beside her bed. “Have a seat?”
Natasha does, settling in among the bouquets of flowers as she eyes Pepper’s tablet.
“Stark Industries probably wouldn’t fall apart without me, but let’s be honest, I’m not trusting Tony to try and ‘help’ and end up making a bigger mess than he started with.”
“Which explains why his private workshop was built half a continent away from the manufacturing plants,” Natasha replies, then takes a better look at her. “How are you doing?”
“As far as anyone can tell, I’m just Pepper Potts again, human of the normal garden type variety.” And she doesn’t miss it, the energy surging below her skin, the sensation of invincibility that made anything possible, the instinct to act without thought or care for consequences, for the people around her - but.
“Don’t let that stop you from doing anything,” says the woman who also falls under the 'ordinary’ category, and Pepper smiles.
“Can you imagine where we’d be if I did? Or you?” She stretches her free hand to catch Natasha’s where it rests by her bedside. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Natasha replies, her fingers warm under Pepper’s touch, and they sit in the peace for a moment. Then, “There’s also the fact that if we let being normal stop us, Tony would be attempting to rule the world, and that’s not something I like to imagine all that often.”
Pepper laughs again, bright and high and clear, and it doesn’t hurt at all this time around.