billionaires | #inbox

"The doctors cleared me, they didn't see anything in there, Pepper, but it's there. Something happened to me."

He presses the heel of his hand to his eyes, this is about why he didn't tell her.

"It's not that bad." The pain. Except he'd really like an ice pack and ibuprofen about now, really.

"They may have missed something. Or something might have happened after we got home-- something neurological," Pepper specifies on the heels of his response. "I knew they should have given you a CT scan."

She knows Tony thinks she's overreacting, that much is plain. He always does, though. Pepper on the other hand thinks he never worries enough-- naturally that became her job, when they first began working together.

"No? Clearly that's why you almost toppled over just now," she retorts quietly, a vague edge of disappointment in her tone. She's concerned for him, is that such a terrible crime? If he keels over from brain hemorrhage or something, she'll never forgive herself. Or him, but mostly herself.

"You don't believe me." He wouldn't believe him either, he realizes, and he works his jaw. On the one hand, if he has the CT scan and they find something... What if they ruin this, the one advantage that he has? He knows Pepper won't risk that for the chance of it impacting his health, but he needs to convince her it's worth it. Somehow.

Luckily, that's when the Thai food rings the doorbell and Tony can't get up fast enough, nearly tripping over his own chair on the way to retrieve it. She'll hear his usual pleasantries, the exchange of business cards and Tony tipping the driver heftily before making his way back to her with the containers.

"Wanna eat in the living room?" Like true heathens.

Pepper sighs heavily, deflating. "I want to." But wanting something doesn't make it true, the world didn't work that way. It's always been her turf to worry about the realities in the background when Tony's place was at the fore, his head up in the clouds more often than not. It worked; that's how they'd made it this far.

She opens her mouth to say something more, but the sudden ring of the doorbell startles her; she'd forgotten about their food already, hungry as though she is. She starts all over again when Tony scrambles up like struck with something sharp, the chair scraping across the floor loudly as he pushes it back in his haste. Pepper sighs all over again and stares down into her glass as she waits, listening to Tony's easy rapport with the delivery guy. She's left distinctly unsatisfied with their discussion, but she doesn't know what to do about it.

Glancing up when Tony returns with the food, she manages a weak smile at the suggestion. "Sure," she says, slipping out of her chair slowly. "I'll get us some napkins first."

"You're the best," he says, apropos of nothing really as he digs through the cabinets for plates and makes them up each one before bringing them out to the coffee table then going back for his glass. He decides to grab another beer even if she doesn't want to share the next one - he thinks he'll need it. Tony clears his throat as he sits down next to her to eat, flipping on the TV so that maybe he won't have to launch right into whatever this is. He doesn't expect to be able to escape it for long, of course, but maybe just a moment where he can pretend everything is the same. The news washes over him harmlessly as he silently starts digging into his meal.

Pepper smiles sadly to herself at the words as she makes her way over to the row of cabinets, pulling out actual napkins instead of just using paper towels-- it was one of those little things she likes to do; quirks, she supposes some might call them. She grabs a bottle of water off the door of the fridge before it closes in the wake of Tony getting another beer, picking up her own glass on her way to the living room. Sitting down with a sigh, she plates herself a modest portion of food -- suddenly not all that hungry -- and listens to the newscaster blather on in the background.

"How's the food?" she asks at length, a little lamely, as she picks at her own plate. She knows he's probably expecting her to interrogate him further about what he'd just told her, but she doesn't want to deal with another circular argument right now.

"Delicious," he admits softly, casting a look over to her plate with a frown. "What's wrong with yours?"

He definitely has no desire to argue either, but he knows she's not going to let this go and he's starting to realize she probably shouldn't.

"Nothing," she denies a little too quickly, managing a few small bites before abandoning her fork on the side of the plate for now, propping her elbows on her knees and rubbing her temples with her fingers.

"These visions... what exactly do you see? How often? Does it always look like you're about to have a stroke or something?" She's in research mode now, apparently unable to stem off her anxiety about this for longer than a couple of minutes.

"Uh... hm." He sets down his fork and finishes chewing so he can respond, glancing over at her so he can at least try to take something seriously for a change. "Sometimes it's just- impressions? Feelings? But usually, it comes with images. They don't always make sense til later."

A beat. "Did it look like I was having a stroke?" Damn, no wonder she's so mad. He runs his fingers back through his hair, embarrassed.

Pepper keeps her eyes on her neglected plate as she listens, not really seeing the cooling food from her preoccupation. At the question, though, she breathes a mirthless half-laugh, dropping one hand and cradling the side of her face with the other.

"At the very least," she says dryly. Not that she knows what having a stroke actually looks like, but she can imagine.

"And... then what? Do they all come true?"

"I didn't mean to scare you," he says like any of that was in his control at all. Then he ponders the real question. "Uh... maybe not how you're thinking, but. Yeah? Actually."

He looks uneasily over at her, trying to catch Pepper's eyes. He's nervous she won't believe him, but his wild gaze implores her to anyway.

"Okay," she utters just to say something, staring at her plate with unseeing eyes. It's not okay. She drags in a deep, shuddering breath, trying to quell the sick sense of anxiety welling up in the pit of her stomach.

"So, now what? That's not-- normal, Tony. I'm still really concerned something's wrong that's causing this." Her voice doesn't quite break at that, but it's a close thing. She looks back at him, something pleading in her eyes among the worry. "I mean, what exactly is the plan, now?"

"That's not normal. Yeah, no... That's an understatement." Tony hunches over himself and takes a bite without tasting it, just to occupy his hands and avoid her gaze that's making him go a bit hot behind the ears. "I can see the way out, Pepper. I know it doesn't - it's not logical. And you hate that, and I don't blame you. I'm not crazy about trusting fake-psychic intuition, but..."

He takes a deep breath through his nose after swallowing and shifts towards her a little more, forcing himself to look up at her face again, no matter how it makes his stomach drop as a result. The look she gives him is more understanding than he'd expected, though that shouldn't surprise him, should it? Not after all this time.

"I know in my heart that this is right. That it'll work. Do you believe me?"

Despite all, Pepper gives him credit for knowing her so well. It really isn't logical and she does hate it, but the scales are tipped back into balance by her trust in him. She wouldn't have stood by him this long if she didn't place her complete trust in him, and although sometimes his antics make her question her devotion for a brief second here and there, nothing he's done have ever discouraged her.

His words break her heart just a little, and she knows this time is no different. Her own intuition has never yet steered her wrong. Taking a deep breath herself, she sighs quietly and closes her eyes for a few seconds. She opens them again with a nod.

"Alright. If you're this convinced, then I'm with you, Tony." A small smile follows, and though it's still a little sad, it's also earnest.

His eyes fill with water and he nods right after her, setting his plate down on his knee so he can lean forward.

"In that case, Pepper, I... I should really- I mean, I get it, if you, but... There's just something I-" He swallows again, fear and adrenaline causing his heart to race. It jumpstarts like a livewire in his brain and he jolts, seeing bright flashes of color behind his eyelids as his food crash-lands, making a terrible noise as the glass shatters on contact with the floor and sends noodles and vegetables everywhere. "...Pepper?" Tony is blind a moment, and he knows it's bad how frequently this is happening now. It's why he's been so scarce, but now she's seen it for herself and it's going to take more than some flowery words to bring her down.

For all her lingering concern, Pepper's lips still twitch a bit in helpless amusement at his stammering. If only for a moment, before the worry overtakes her expression once more. What could be so difficult that it's making him so tongue-tied?

"You should...?" she prompts gently, shaking her head a fraction, expecting him to fill in the blank. That's only a second before he jolts, his gaze going strangely vacant, dropping his plate on the floor. Pepper yelps in startled surprise, hot food splashing across the carpet and splattering their feet.

"Tony!" Spilled food and shattered glass forgotten, Pepper scoots closer on the couch and reaches out with both hands, cradling the sides of his face in her palms. "Tony? What's happening? I-is it the thing, the visions? Oh god," she babbles, her anxiety going from zero to hundred in about two seconds. "What do I do?"

Tony pushes closer to her the moment he feels her hands on him, pressing himself into her embrace in a hopeless display. He needs to tell her what's happening or he's going to lose her forever. Then again, maybe he will anyway. Maybe this is all a sick delusion.

"I need... I need you, Pepper. I just need you." It's a relief to finally say it, laying his head on her shoulder and just hanging on for as long as she'll allow. He tries to push out the rest, the: 'Also, I'm pretty sure I'm dying,' but it just won't come out.

If she's taken aback by his apparent neediness and yearning for... contact? Comfort? she only hesitates for a second before she folds him into a hug, one arm going around his shoulders while she clasps the other hand over his nape when he lays his head on her shoulder. Fear mingles with concern now, making her tremble a little.

"I'm-- I'm here, Tony," she stammers a little, blinking back sudden tears that burn behind her eyes. She clutches him to her a little tighter, the hand on his neck climbing up to stroke his hair. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here."

He squeezes her harder when he feels that tremble, his vision coming back in patches as he slowly pulls back an inch to focus on her face. Wow, they're close. It makes it even harder to think than it already was, but that's his fault too.

"Can't really figure that one out, after all I've put you through, but I can't say I'm complaining." His eyes draw down to her lips and he holds his breath, heartrate spiking dangerously all over again.

Pepper shudders once more, though it's no longer completely due to any lingering fright. She wants to offer some protest to that, some retort or a scold or a wry quip, but she has none left, her heart giving a tiny flutter at the way he stares at her mouth. Her lips part a little on a tiny intake of breath.

"Are you okay?" she asks in such hushed tone it's nearly a whisper. Right now, she means, but the rest trails off under the sheer magnetism of his close proximity.

"Oh yeah," he answers too quick, but a warm smile follows it up. They're so close his beard brushes sharply against her smooth chin. "Never better." It's a bald-faced lie, but right now he can't even really regret it.

"Tony," she admonishes on a knee-jerk instinct, but softly and almost playfully-- for a moment, anyway, gasping at the brush of his beard against her skin. The contact only drives home all the more sharply just how close they are, teetering on the edge of some make-or-break moment yet again. Those were becoming increasingly more frequent, and Pepper isn't sure how to proceed, for all that her gaze dips down to his mouth in return. She knows she's attracted to him in a way that goes beyond their professional relationship, but is that enough reason to... well, to do anything about it?

Her fingers tighten on his shoulder, though she reasons she should probably pull back and break this stalemate they're caught in. "I should... get you a new plate," she whispers a little shakily, but makes no move to leave yet.

His smile twitches into something more playful in reaction to her tone, a jolt going straight through his middle at that gasp. He could close the distance and show her rather than tell her everything that's been on his mind, but again he hesitates just a microsecond too long.

"Oh, uh." Tony clears his throat and forces himself back another inch, noticing how equally reluctant she is to move. "Okay. I mean, thanks." His shoulders slump in defeat and he unwinds himself enough so that she can make a getaway.

If there's a flash of disappointment flickering across her expression, it's there only for a second before she draws away as well, slipping her hands from his shoulders while trying to tamp down on her reluctance. Forcing a smile, she shifts back on the couch and gets up, her own meal forgotten as she steps around the spilled food and pieces of broken plate.

And if she takes a few moments in the kitchen to take some deep breaths and calm herself down, well. Returning with a new plate and a a roll of paper towels, she hands Tony the plate with a soft "Here," and sets to clean up the spill. Thankfully, most of the mess landed on the hardwood floor and not the carpet in silence.

Tony lifts his feet up onto the couch so he's not in Pepper's way, feeling guilty even as he takes the plate from her with a tiny nod in thanks. Even now, she's far too good at taking care of him, and it only forces the words he should say further back down his throat.

"You're the best," he manages before quietly digging into his meal.

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