5062/At Pepper's Pad

At Pepper's Pad
Date of Scene:	30 July 2018
Location:	New York City
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Pepper Potts, Iron Man

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Pepper Potts has posed:
While Pepper rarely took a sick day, the modern wonders of technology let her work from home on the very worst of those days. And this mid-summer flu has been a killer. She tried to ignore it through the first few days, come into the office, steer clear of most in-person meetings and pretend she wasn't sick, but things just got worse. Worse enough to keep her from the 4th of July party, and even bad enough that she full stop didn't come into the office the day after. She's been working over email and conferencing all day, her scratchy voice illicting some shortening in sympathy of the meetings, but she's firmly quaratined herself in her own condo and isn't going until she's not contaigous.

Which is why she's in shock when there is a knock at her door. She's in a third floor condo in a nice, vintage building on the upper east side. Expensive without being outlandish, still has a walk up stair case of beautiful marble, and the building's security is probably from the 60s. But she likes it. And she wasn't expecting any visitors. "Uh...one minute..." She rasps out, pulling a robe hasitly on overtop her shortie bed-shorts and tank top (she's not bothered getting dressed today) and then padding over to the door. Warily, she peeks through the little peep hole only to see his face. She blinks and unlocks the trio of locks..."Tony! I didn't come in because...I don't need you getting this... I got everything done today..."

Iron Man has posed:
"I won't get it," Tony says calmly, with a smile that broadcasts his confidence about the whole matter. He is unkillable and invincible, the smile reminds. He has a somewhat large tote bag in his hand, and he raises it as if it were a trophy of a dragon he'd slain down the street on his way over, to bring to show her. "I'm here to help. I bring offerings. No sending me away yet," Tony declares, coming inside with an expectant quality: an entitled assumption that he is, of course, welcome.

Distractedly he starts to look around: he cannot remember the last time he was here. It isn't a sad reflection, more of just one of curiosity. The home smells like her. Yet he dislikes it in a way, for reasons he can't define easily -- and doesn't put any effort into /trying/ to define. His eyes move over some of the obvious signs of 'sick', though, the lack of things put away or cleaned up. All the things she probably didn't want him looking at.

Pepper Potts has posed:
At least four tea cups littered around the room, forgotten, cold or empty. Tissue boxes and the errant filled tissue can. A pile of laundry in the corner still in the laundromat bags, not put away. The throw from the back of the sofa casually tossed half aside over the couch's arm. All the little things that would be normal in many households but, here, are utter proof that Pepper isn't herself. Otherwise, her place hasn't changed much.

It's homey in it's own way. Comfortably modern with matching gray and white throw rugs across the glistening hardwood floor. There is an antique fire place, working, against the far wall and it has a lovely stylized grill over it. A big, gray suede couch with matching chairs in front of it and a glass coffee table. There is a little work from home corner with a Stark Industries patented holo desk, but also a big oak desk behind it in the corner, piled with various bits of old fashioned paperwork. She has a wall of black and white photos, all clearly personal. Many of them are him and her, some are the Avengers, from various holiday parties. Others are family he's probably never met of her's. The other wall is covered floor to ceiling in bookshelves. The whole place screams Pepper but not personal. Which, in truth, is probably a Pepper thing in and of itself.

She stares up to him as he comes in, blinking. A rasping laugh escapes her throat, "...what happened to that time you told me I shouldn't dare get you sick?" Granted, he was poisoned by something or other at the time, and she didn't know, but she still remembered... "And... it's... not so bad. I was going to order dinner." Eventually. If she remembered. There's lots of signs of tea cups. No signs of actual food eaten.

Iron Man has posed:
"I don't remember saying that; sounds pretty unlike me. That's your job to remember those things, right?" And moving on. "I didn't know what symptoms you had," Tony says, and sets down the tote bag on the table. He gestures over it with his palm spread open, to sort of indicate all of the various contents therein. "So this is covering-everything. Kate did a great job." Because of course assistant Kate was tasked with collecting the objects required. Tony's part was to delegate an expert. And to bring it personally, which is the larger extension of proof that he did care.

"We have something for if there is anything leaking /out/ of anywhere it shouldn't be, or if it should be leaking and isn't, and some other things I'm hopeful you don't have, but are here just in case," Tony describes, fishing in the bag.

"And special soup. I didn't make it, but I tried some. It's good." He considers the container of soup, taking in her comment about dinner after extracting it, and then begins to walk towards where he hopes the plates might be, opening a cabinet. Nope, glasses.

Pepper Potts has posed:
"Oh... Tony... you..." Pepper starts, but then she's turning her head and there's another one of those coughing fits and goodness the flu SUCKS. She looks utterly miserable, her complexion a waxy pale except for her nose which is already rough and red. Her hair's pulled back messily and probably hasn't been washed in two days. She finishes the coughing and sighs with the aching body that only comes from violent coughs and a long, miserable flu. "TOny, you...really didn't have to. I don't want to get anyone sick. This is... miserable." She huffs out and she slumps back down on the couch.

Iron Man has posed:
Tony tends to get a little bit of an 'expression' around sick people that come in to work. It is a judgmental, chilly kind of thing. It starts to happen, as he goes to the next cabinet and she has a coughing fit, but then it melts away into something akin to seriousness. Serious Tony has arrived. At least for the next few minutes, and while she is in no shape to properly enjoy it.

"I know I don't have to," Tony answers. He manages bowls this time, and works on getting a portion of the soup into it, putting the rest away, and then looking at her microwave as if it were a dying puppy. "I'd like to replace this," Tony says over the sounds of him beeping in the required time.

Pepper Potts has posed:
Serious Tony isn't something she sees ALL that often, but she's gotten to enjoy the few times he peeks through, and when she hears that tone of voice it does actually make her smile a bit. She curls a bit more into the corner of the couch, knees into her chest, leaving plenty of room for him to sit when he comes and joins her again but also, holding heat it. It sucks to be both feverish and chilly -- that feeling should have been the first hint she was sick, but she tried to ignore it.

"...Replacing... what? THe microwave? It still works! It's only... ten or so years old... it's not that bad!" Pepper raspingly huffs a little, but there is a small touch of a chuckle behind her tired voice as she watches him work in the kitchen. Damn, she must be sick. She's letting him do the work. Or, perhaps, she just loves and trusts him that much.

Iron Man has posed:
"It IS heating. Slowly. So, yes, technically by that definition, it is working," Tony agrees, standing near the microwave and setting his hands loosely on the hips of his jeans. He turns his head to look over at her, expression quietly amused. He's dressed simply, just a long sleeve shirt under a tee, jeans. Sunglasses hooked into the collar of the shirt. It's warm out, he left his jacket out in the car.

"Eventually."

He scratches the side of his cheek, waiting, and looking at her. His expression is a little bit elusive: it reads a concern, but it isn't really worry. He doesn't want her to feel worse if he overreacts. "So, you clearly need to rest. I'll change your passwords if I have to," Tony teases her.

Pepper Potts has posed:
While she's exhausted and miserable, she hasn't really been able to take her eyes off of him since he walked into her condo. She's missed him. She didn't realize how MUCH she'd missed him, she'd become so accustomed to having him in her life on a daily basis. So, she remains curled in the couch, but turned around enough that she can watch him over the back of the couch. She lets her head sink down, so her cheek rests on the back of the couch and she can almost just lay down while still watching him. "I'm resting just fine. I can work from here. Though... I think the worst thing about being sick is not being able to kiss you. I've missed that." Maybe she was a little fever delirious, jumping from work to, well.. Other matters. But she's just exhausted and loopy enough to say exactly what is on her mind, and that is what came out of her mouth.

Iron Man has posed:
"Another selfish reason to get you fixed up. Lacked my Tuesday Pepper-dinner," Tony complains, turned now towards the microwave. He locates in a drawer apparently the ugliest potholder he could possibly find, and uses it to draw the soup out. A spoon later and he's returning, coming around the couch. His casual manner and making himself entirely at home does just that, in a fashion: makes him seem at home. But there's an unusual high energy presence that Stark drags around with him sometimes, that also fills the room with that particular vibe.

"Here," he says, approaching, and taking care to be sure she doesn't burn herself. After handing it off, he uses his opposite hand, lifting it up and across to brush the back of fingers to her forehead to get a sense of her temperature: as if only doing so once he's distracted her with food. That's the only time to actually dart in a little concerned gesture like that.

Pepper Potts has posed:
The food is an effective distraction, if just for a moment, the sluggish Pepper catching on a handful of heartbeats later to what he's doing. It's too late by that point, though. She's definitely fevered, with her skin that clammy, chills-and-fever touch that comes from late in the sickness, days into misery. She definitely doesn't feel like herself in multiple ways. She wrinkles her nose at him, "I'm fine." She insists, rather like a petulant child. Her poor ego is suffering. She doesn't have one quite so large as his, but there is no doubt that Pepper Potts is a proud woman. She dislikes being brought low like this.

"But... thank you. It... looks good, at least." SHe can't smell a damn thing, but she is, at least, beginning to spoon into the warm soup herself. Appetite or no, he bothered to bring her food and that's enough that she's actually going to try to eat some.

Iron Man has posed:
"Yeah, well. Can you play along? I don't really know what I'm supposed to feel. I've just seen people do this in movies," Tony says, of the brush of hand to her hair and forehead, flipping his hand over to be palm-side down on her head. "You feel kind of warm and moist," he reports, looking at his now sweaty palm as if not entirely sure what to do next. "And not in a good way."

He then very obviously gets an idea: one of those 'oh obviously' smiles, and pulls off the sleek thin technological silver 'watch' around his left hand, and attempts to slip it onto her, while drawing his phone-like mobile device from a back pocket. He'll just use his own health monitor. Easy. Why do normal human things when a machine he made can give him much better information?

Pepper Potts has posed:
At his asking her to play along, Pepper cannot help but tiredly laugh. "...Mm. I don't have to play along, my dear. And you don't have to do anything but sit here and relax with me a few minutes. If you're going to get this, well... you're here now and you've got it already. If you aren't, staying a bit longer won't hurt. So... sit..." Pepper reaches her free hand momentarily over to pat the couch near her and, if he does sit, she immediately tucks her cold bare feet under the edge of his thigh. Touching him without laying all over him and risking further contagion.

Then that watch slips over, subtle, but it's her wrist and that really isn't subtle enough. Her nose wrinkles a bit more, amusement crossing her glazed eyes. "...All JARVIS is going to tell you is that I've got a fever of... 102, probably, and am showing every symptom of a normal flu, which there is nothing to be done about but rest and time."

Iron Man has posed:
Tony did take a seat, and gave her a funny look when she edged her feet in under his leg, but didn't say anything about it. It isn't one of her usual moves, but he can take it as a sick thing. "There's never /nothing/. There's a bag of things on the table, after all," Tony says cheerfully, and skims through what the readout on her condition is. 102. Wow. He gives her a briefly impressed look but doesn't regale her with how correct she was. No need to boost her ego or anything. Tony hooks one hand over her raised knee, simply resting his forearm on her leg, fingers curved gently over the kneecap, and puts the device away.

Pepper Potts has posed:
The brush of his arm across her leg is enough to coax a few more bits of tension out of her. Pepper probably hadn't even realized just how much she missed him until this moment, but now that they are sitting together, she feels a touch better than she has in days. Her smile softens, just a touch, as she watches him across the couch and continues to nibble and sip at her soup. "...You're right. You... did a lot, actually. And it helps, even if it won't... get me better. It helps. I was just sitting around feeling sorry for myself and this... Helps." SHe's trying not to be cranky or pushy about it, even if sickness certainly makes her cranky. The fact that he made all this effort? She knows it's a big deal. "...and... I missed you. Coming... helps more than anything." She admits, softer than before.

Iron Man has posed:
Tony changes position, to lean in to her knee and rest his chin on top of his hand, with a quirky pleased smile. He is often receptive when she praises the things he's proud of doing. And he's proud of coming to help: and does indeed seem to think he IS helping. Even if he can't tell her temperature by touching her head. "It would have been pretty insensitive to summon you to the penthouse to see you," Tony clarifies, though his palm squeezes her knee just a little, diffusing the flippant quality of his wink with something more real.

Pepper Potts has posed:
Two more bites of her soup, halfway through the bowl and Pepper is proud of herself for getting through that much, and her now free hand slips up so she can comb her fingertips through his hair and tuck it off to the side, behind his ear. Just the most simple of touches. "...Yes, yes it would have. ANd then I might have infected your entire penthouse and we couldn't have that. I like to sleep there on occasion." She gives him a teasing little wink as she sayst hat. Even she can be a bit more flippant sometimes.

Iron Man has posed:
"Besides, there's a charm to waiting on the microwave and enduring burned popcorn here, I can tell," Tony teases her in return, though he has never really minded or pushed her about her home. He smiles when she touches his hair, no disgust or fear of catching her flu seems present. Tony's pretty good at being arrogant about such things, though. He's decided he's not going to catch her sickness, so.

He leans in a little more to check on the soup amount, to see how far she's gotten. He doesn't cheerlead her yet, but his expression is relatively encouraging. He's not very good at this 'taking care' thing, but the effort is there.

Pepper Potts has posed:
"...two more days and I'll be back in the office, I promise. Then date night next week. As long as you're not off running after some disaster or another." She reassures him quietly, the flippant flirting dissolving back into the fact of just how much she misses actually being in the office working, and her time with him. "I'm going crazy here. DOn't you dare change my email password...if I can't do some work, I'll claw my eyes out."

Iron Man has posed:
"If you're going crazy, that means you're doing better. When I'm truly and /really/ sick, I stop caring about doing anything," Tony says, tapping his fingers slowly on her knee, considering. "So I'm glad you're coming back to me - back to life," he amends. He coughs once, though it's not a flu-cough, more an awkward cough. "But don't strain for it. Not going anywhere. Well. Other than to fight outer-space monsters. Somebody has to lead the charge. Superman's even following my orders now." Tony quirks his brows at her.

Pepper Potts has posed:
The woman chuckles faintly, allowing herself to sink down a bit more into the couch. But instead of against the arm, this time she's shifted herself so she's laying with her cheek on his leg, her cold feet curled up against the arm instead. "I...won't strain. And... you'll have to tell me all about bossing Superman around. Maybe... after I nap. Don't let me sleep all night. Just... a little while." A full belly, a warm Tony next to her, and pure sickness exhaustion means that Pepper is tapping out for the moment. Fortunately, there is a TV controller right next to the soup on the coffee table, and she's slipping off to sleep against his leg quick enough that nothing he does will probably disturb her. BUt she's headed to sleep with a smile on her face, which is more than she can say for the last while.