(no subject)
For nearly two decades Pepper Potts had not only known Tony Stark, but ostensibly been his closest friend. Their relationship often skewed into co-dependency, full of exasperation and energy, thousands of memorized details and mutual understandings thick between the lines. Yet apparently in all that time, with all that experience being around Tony, Pepper had never properly considered what it was like to be Tony. Oh, in the broadest, glossy-covered sense, sure: She'd pondered legacy and wealth and infamy. But she'd never stopped to consider living with a mind capable of producing constant genius, or what it meant when that mind outpaced every other part of you.
It was 10 AM, and Pepper had been living with Tony Stark's brain for approximately two and a half hours. She was nearly certain she was going insane.
The good news was that she'd managed to dress herself without seeing or touching too much of the Stark family jewels. Having missed breakfast, she found herself in the kitchen in a three piece tailored suit and impeccably groomed, utterly overdressed in the hopes that anyone laying eyes on her would know immediately something was not quite right with Tony today.
Her initial thought had been to make a sandwich, a seemingly simple task. In retrospect, perhaps it was the simplicity that had been the trouble.
Just now, there was a half-made sandwich laying atop the counter surrounded by a clutter of ingredients, the refrigerator door was standing wide open and Pepper was turning around in the pantry, a can of peaches cradled in the crook of one elbow and a potato in her other hand. In a suit.
It was 10 AM, and Pepper had been living with Tony Stark's brain for approximately two and a half hours. She was nearly certain she was going insane.
The good news was that she'd managed to dress herself without seeing or touching too much of the Stark family jewels. Having missed breakfast, she found herself in the kitchen in a three piece tailored suit and impeccably groomed, utterly overdressed in the hopes that anyone laying eyes on her would know immediately something was not quite right with Tony today.
Her initial thought had been to make a sandwich, a seemingly simple task. In retrospect, perhaps it was the simplicity that had been the trouble.
Just now, there was a half-made sandwich laying atop the counter surrounded by a clutter of ingredients, the refrigerator door was standing wide open and Pepper was turning around in the pantry, a can of peaches cradled in the crook of one elbow and a potato in her other hand. In a suit.