3429/Long Nights, Longer Mornings

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Long Nights, Longer Mornings
Date of Scene: 18 December 2017
Location: Stark Tower, New York City
Synopsis: Pepper discovers a frustrated and hungover Tony, and attempts to sort out the issue.
Cast of Characters: Iron Man, Pepper Potts




Iron Man has posed:
"Nope," comes a muffled voice from the other side of a long couch. "NOPE." It's specifically Tony's muffled voice, from the vicinity of the floor or maybe knee height, roughly.

It's morning, for most people, bright and early, a crisp day: not that anyone would know it, from the blinds shut so severely that the room is a dark tomb.

"Your meeting is in under an hour, sir," JARVIS continues where he left off.

"Consider your snooze button pressed," is the answer from the floor, without much additional motion or response.

There's a bit of a disaster in the room for those that may enter to rouse Stark for meetings, although it has been worse, easily. There's a long stripe of fire extinguisher foam running across the floor from near the entrance to the far window on the right, and some bursts on the wall. No signs of fire. Some of the furniture was rearranged in a loose confusion, which accounts for why Tony's spot on the floor is blocked from view. A suit jacket is thrown in the general direction of the coatrack. And, of course, signs of alcohol.

Pepper Potts has posed:
There is an alarm Pepper Potts has set up with JARVIS which is, basically, if JARVIS cannot rouse Tony for a meeting and she has marked it as above a certain level of importance in the calendar, then SHE is notified and she comes up for the personal treatment. Of course, Pepper didn't really have the time this morning to be taking the whole way up to the penthouse when she was preparing for that meeting with their Belgian investors herself and had been up since six am, but this was important.

So, barely holding back the pure annoyance from her features, Pepper's taken the lift up to the penthouse condo where Tony lives. She's got her own permissions on the lock, having spent many nights in the guest room, so she gives her thumb print to the lift and her code to JARVIS to take her straight there. Her high heels are perfect and pristine as they carry her across the initial marble foyer from the elevator. She blinks at the darkness of the room.

"...JARVIS... turn the lights on? You said he wasn't in bed? Tony, where in hell ARE You?" She calls into the room, not bothering to moderate her voice even as she sees the alcohol strewn about. She picks her way neatly over the mess, Prada shoes not daring to touch anything wet.

Iron Man has posed:
JARVIS does as requested. And light floods the room.

"Deluminate," Tony grumbles from the floor in response.

"Sir, I remind you, you changed your personal voice activation for the lighting early this morning-"

"You know what I-- fine. What is it now?"

JARVIS pauses and answers, "'It's too fucking bright'."

Tony is silent for a few beats. "Let's revert that."

JARVIS agrees, "Done."

Tony is located on his stomach on the floor just past the couch; no shoes, but otherwise in his usual lab clothes: jeans, a t-shirt over a longsleeve shirt. He obviously slept where he is, and has one hand now pressed over his eyes, twisting his face towards the carpet, but he must have seen her under the couch:

"Like the shoes."

Pepper Potts has posed:
The strawberry blonde continues to pick her way across the floor, a low sigh escaping her lips as she leans down to pick up a few of the bottles off the floor, a toppled lamp, and any of the easy mess she can pick up on her way over to him. She's not doing a full clean, just keeping her hands busy and trying not to be TOO frustrated by how much of a mess is around her. SHe finally makes it to the other side of the couch and looks down to him, hands on her hips, standing straight and strong in her light gray, custom tailored power suit with a skirt just a LITTLE too short to be perfectly professional.

Or, maybe that's just how long her legs look in those heels from that angle.

"Tony... you HAVE to be on the video conference with Belgium in an hour. We can't delay this again. You're a mess. Get up and get in the shower, I'll lay out clothes for you and see if I can buy us some time on the meeting." Her voice is all business at the moment -- completely exasperated business.

Iron Man has posed:
"I was EARLY for my meeting with SHIELD, I'll have you know," Tony responds, drawing his arms in under him to cup his cheeks with his hands, as if trying to press his awareness back inside his head from where it might be leaking out. "They were worried by it," Tony adds, in a sort of thoughtful way, deciding if he's amused by it, perhaps.

He rolls over onto his back, the flare of light from his Arc Reactor actually making HIM flinch, as he squints up at her. He'd be more interested if his head weren't a jackhammer, but still manages to look slowly up from her shoes. But then he finally sits up, one elbow thrown onto the couch as he climbs to his feet, and inspects himself visually, looking for 'mess'.

"Their cyber team is on the files I tossed their way, though," he adds: his mind clearly in two places at the moment in an awkward split.

But, right. "Belgium. Sure." Sure he's paying attention.

Pepper Potts has posed:
"...Belgium doesn't have a cypher team. SHIELD is handled, and that's good, but yes, we're on Belgium today. Or do you not want to work with their hall of sciences and have complete access to their research databases from all of their Nobel winners for the last twenty years? I thought you were excited about this project." Pepper sighs, crouching down neatly for a moment, so she's almost eye level with him. She crouches like a lady, knees tucked together and off to the side, somehow balancing prim and proper on the balls of her spike heels.

"...What was the celebration this time? You're not dressed up, but you drank like a night on the town..." She looks from his flinching face to around the penthouse, then back to his face. SHe cannot entirely hide the disappointment from her green eyes as she studies the mess around. "Or is this all SHIELD victory dances?"

Iron Man has posed:
"I'm thrilled about Belgium. Except for their time zone, right now." A pause. "An hour is plenty of time," Tony Stark assures her as she comes down to his level from his seated spot on the floor.

"Forty-Five minutes," JARVIS helpfully clarifies, and is ignored by Tony entirely.

"Victory lap? Those are no fun alone..." That isn't right: his expression doesn't agree with his tone, and he doesn't even bother to try to launch into some bullshit that it is a victory. Which should give her the full information that the drinking was not a positive response, but something didn't go well after all.

He finally reaches his feet, and has stopped squinting as severely, possibly just for her benefit, which is all kinds of danger signals with him actually being elusive: in that he actually IS bothered. "Alright. Shower. But since it's a video conference, pants are optional." He's coherent enough to be funny, at least. And, well. See? So focused.

Pepper Potts has posed:
The moment Pepper catches those signals, some of her lecturing and harshness cuts back immediately. Her expression softens as she pushes herself back up into standing next to him and reaches out for his shoulder. She doesn't let him turn away for the shower, yet, but allows her small hand to linger against the cloth of his shoulder, giving a small squeeze. "...Hey...JARVIS is right. 45 minutes. Talk to me..." Pepper coaches gently. All the lecturing of moments before is gone.

If he permits, she gently leads him over to the couch, coaching him down into sitting before she turns towards the wet bar and grabs a bottle of the mineral water she always makes certain is kept there, exactly for these moments. She carries it over to him and offers the bottle after cracking the seal. "...Take a drink and talk to me. What happened."

Iron Man has posed:
The dodge is coming, and she'll probably see it, because he got really agreeable about the shower. "Hey, you know, it shouldn't have bothered me in the first place," Tony says, dismissive of whatever his problem was. But the man likes to talk, so, well, there isn't a huge amount of resistance to being asked to monologue. He takes the water and downs most of it with a painful grimace. Because it's just water.

"I think ..." He considers the water in his hand, moving the glass to watch the surface tension of the water within it react. "We all have patterns. And when a pattern breaks, even for better, it's a lot more alarming than something staying the same."

Pepper Potts has posed:
"...Alright. I'm listening." Virginia Potts has learned to let him monologue over the years. Especially when something is weighing hard on him and he's trying to dodge -- it's better if she just echoes in a few quiet words of encouragement and then let silence go. He will want to fill that silence, it's an old trick she well knows. So, after that quiet prompting, she sinks down to sitting on the couch next to him. She angles her body and crosses her legs so she can face him almost entirely without drawing her legs up onto the couch. She'll be a lady about it, but she is trying to give him her full attention. Her expression? Genuinely worried.

Iron Man has posed:
That silence needs to be filled. Often with something snarky. Or something else. If he senses the mild social manipulation, he doesn't fight it off. "And now you're worried too," Tony sighs at her with a sharp rueful laugh. His offhanded comment about SHIELD reacting oddly comes back around: those one-offs with the deeper meaning don't just disappear. Tony actually starts to pull in some emotional weight behind it, there's some defensive grumpiness surfacing, and the smile has reduced into a serious face. It draws a penetrating focus into his dark eyes and firmness to jaw. He drinks maybe half of the remaining water with a rough clearing of his throat. And finally looks at her more directly. Yes, there's an edge of that hangover, but it could have been much worse than it is: the sleeping on the floor may have been more laziness than actually passing out.

"Just trying to be better, Pep. Doesn't always work," Tony says finally, tone with a softened intimacy to it, and starts to stand.

Pepper Potts has posed:
Those green eyes watch him quietly, heavy with worry, but she doesn't push it either. She just gives him the space he needs, lets him drink the water and mull over her words, or lack of them. "Hey..." Pepper starts softly, as he moves to turn away and stand. Her hand comes out to try and gently catche his cheek, to turn his eyes back to her with the softest of touches which is something probably far beyond boss and assistant, but she'd never say it. She just wants to get his eyes again, especially with that softer tone.

"...I know you're trying. And... I want to help. That's why I'm here. Talk to me. I'm listening. If need, I will put off Belgium. Something's on your mind... talk to me." She whispers gently, the pad of her thumb tracing down along the edge of his jaw.

Iron Man has posed:
Tony is caught, partially because he'd looked down at the water when he started to stand, since his standing skills are compromised and spilling it was likely. He looks back swiftly to her eyes. He does listen to her: she has absolutely his full attention for while she speaks.

But.

Tony is really good at ruining nice moments when he puts his mind to it. And there's a flicker of that: the weird little rebellion for no reason that shows in his darker eyes when she coaxes. But he doesn't go for the snark holster.

"Belgium's important, like you said. This can wait," Tony assures her, and pulls up one of those brilliant smiles that he seems to find out of thin air even in terrible moments. It's like a special space-pocket of arrogant confidence. "Please set out something with green. Feelin' the inner rage monster today," Tony chuckles. Or he was inspired off her green eyes. Either way.

Tony's body language is somewhat different, though, from his swing back into being more 'himself', he catches her hand at his cheek, and is gentle with her. He didn't push her away physically. He's just messy, like the room.

Pepper Potts has posed:
Perhaps she'd have been able to pull away if he didn't catch her hand upon his cheek. If there wasn't that hint of intimacy there, something that isn't about Belgium at all, and if it didn't feel so damned nice. For a moment, Pepper Potts isn't quite certain how to breathe. Much like that night with the blue dress and a dozen other moments they've had like this over the years. Her thumb remains against his jaw, eyes lidding a bit more with concern. He tells her what clothing to set out and, for cone, she doesn't move. She's not following orders at this moment.

"Belgium is important. You are more important. If you're going to talk to me... We'll move it. I can move it. This is important." Pepper insists gently, her hand pressing a bit more against his skin and her voice as gently compelling as that look in her eyes. "...Tony, something is off. You're right. Even I can see that. If you can't tell me, you won't be able to tell anyone. That's why I'm here. I help you. I fix things. Let me help you."

Iron Man has posed:
"All of Belgium would probably care to differ with you about that point, but I'm going to have to agree about being most important," Tony kids automatically. He's entered into that mode, and it probably will be hard to pry him back into serious time again. Elusive, that special little moment can be. As elusive as a flash of blue dress. But it's definitely there, if the door didn't keep getting closed on it. Tony, for his part, seems like he distracted himself, and his tunnel vision has locked elsewhere.

"Right now, fixing me requires me not smelling like a mini-bar," Tony says with a slight self-sniff that is hardly conducive to intimate thoughts. Except that it's very /genuine/ and shows his comfort with her.

"You /are/ helping," Tony adds, in a way that reminds he's aware she didn't mean his personal hygiene with her statement. "Really, let's get Belgium out of the way. I'm not dumping any more meetings because I don't have shit together." That statement alone possibly gives her the exact information she was hunting: he's trying to get his shit together, and stumbled at it.

"This shit... is together," he says, with a gesture to... all of himself.

Pepper Potts has posed:
Silence lingers for several more heartbeats, but not because she's trying to get something more out of it. Her breath paused the moment he said he doesn't have his shit together -- that admission alone told her volumes. That was the good and bad side of having worked together for so long, she could read so much unsaid by him. Some days, she really didn't even have to talk to him. She just did it because she liked it. But she always knew what he needed before he said it. That was no different emotionally, sometimes. Just more complicated.

"...Oh, Tony..." She finally breathes out quietly, her hand from his cheek coming up to comb fingertips back through his hair which, yes, could definitely use a wash. "...it's not together. That's why I'm here. If that shit was completely together, you wouldn't need me, then what would I do?" Pepper asks with a bittersweet smile, her hand still lingering at the top of his ear, not quite willing to pull away yet.

Iron Man has posed:
"I've seen /far/ worse foundations, really. You could build a tower on this shit, and it wouldn't fall over for ages," Tony says, in his 'fill the air with talking' way. But he doesn't maintain it, he faces her as she passes her hand up into his hair across his ear. There's a register there of her, and her proximity: no doubt she'll see that he actually did SEE her, just now. Maybe in a blue dress.

He hears her question. And doesn't spin out some interesting bullshit about what she'd do. "What would you do?" Tony asks her, simply, with a directness that causes a slight move of muscle around his eyes and cheek.

Pepper Potts has posed:
That was not the answer she expected. It was a terrifying answer to Pepper, in truth, and while he doesn't often catch her off guard, he has uncomfortably done so in this moment. Pepper blinks, her hand abruptly falling away from his hair and ear, entire body almost tensing up, tempted to curl in on itself. Unhealthy or not, the thought of not being needed here -- of not being the vital foundation of Stark Enterprises -- actually physically hurts a part of her.

"...I... I don't know. Get an EA job...somewhere else, probably. Maybe try to get some chief financial position. I do more than an EA already. But... that's no matter. You need me here. I'm not going anywhere." She states firmly, looking him straight in the eyes, no doubt in her voice as she says that, along with a strong dash of too-fierce loyalty.

Iron Man has posed:
"I don't think you have to worry about job security. I mean, look around you," Tony reminds her, glancing at the strange trail of fire extinguisher foam with a look that suggests like he's as surprised to see it as anyone else might be. "This shit pile could catch fire any second," Tony says, in a gentler, lower tone. He does mean himself, of course. "And my aim with the extinguisher seems questionable."

He's dismayed by her pulling away, there was a minor wounding when she did, but he doesn't seem able to reach out to her either in that moment. Maybe that response isn't the one HE expected either.

Pepper Potts has posed:
While it's less than healthy, probably for both of them, there is just a touch of relief in her eyes as he says she doesn't have to worry about job security. Pepper looks around, taking in that horrible trail of chemical fluid from the extinguisher, the rest of the mess she didn't get to, and she just gives a little laugh along with a shake of her head. "I'd say...we have a few more years before you can consider my position redundant. But I'd still be sorry to go." She admits softly, the closest she'll come to admitting she plans to spend the rest of her life at his side, with this company. Even as Forbes says she should have moved on ages ago.

Her hand reaches forward, somehow feeling that strange emptiness of space between them. She lets her fingertips rest heavily on his knee for a heartbeat or two, not going back to his face, but there is some contact there. "...But, if you're sure about Belgium, you... should shower. I'll get your green silk Thomas Whitling shirt. That'll do well."

Iron Man has posed:
Tony follows her eyes to the trail of foam, but doesn't seem even mildly ashamed of it. There's an ownership of the shit-heap in a brief smile.

"I'm sure," Tony says with a firmness. Even if it was entirely false about how he may or may not feel together at the moment, he is going to power through it regardless. A train without tracks maybe, but full steam ahead. His willpower alone would more than carry this.

"Perfect," he says with a snap of fingers at her choice. "Hold them at bay if you can, I'll be ...efficient." He pats her hand once, and does stand this time, getting down to business. And totally tripping over his shoes. At least he found them.

Pepper Potts has posed:
As he goes full steam ahead, she does as well. One last squeeze to his knee and Pepper Potts is standing up, stiff and straight, like they never had an intimate moment on the couch at all. This is all business, of course. Completely so. She listens to his commentary about being efficient and gives a little amused smirk, "I think I can vamp for ten minutes, but you've got TEN minutes beyond the start time. Nothing more."

She then turns to move for his bedroom, knowing where it is all too well, since she'll need to be there to set out his clothes. She leads the way quickly down the hall, lost in business talk the whole time, "JARVIS, start the shower for Tony. 102 degrees, full steam and pressure. Set a count down for five minutes after the meeting start time, so he's got five minutes to get downstairs." And Pepper is drowning in his closet, now, looking for the perfect outfit. By the time he's out of the shower, his clothing will be laid out on the bed and she is no where in sight, back down to helping run his empire.