Tony Stark (in_extremis) wrote in oh_marvelous, @ 2009-11-16 04:08:00 |
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Unconditional
Characters: Superbros Steve and Tony, Pepper?
Setting: Tony's suite, New York City, shortly after this
Content: Wear angst-proof clothing, and a charming hat.
Summary: Cap isn't pleased with the direction S.H.I.E.L.D. is aiming Avengers. Tony is obviously not dealing with enough horrible things. Hopefully, there are hugs. THERE TOTALLY WEREN'T ANY.
That phone call that shattered Tony's nerves in Wanda's kitchen had been Pepper. Tony knew that without touching his phone, without even answering it until the twelfth ring-- until he was out of that house and in his car and clutching his jacket to his chest and just breathing. And with his forehead pressed against the steering wheel, he finally put an end to the nagging buzzing with a weary, "Speak." He knew it was Pepper, and he knew it was Fucking Important, before there was even an answer, because that was how he had defined the only reason to call him before he left the hotel just over an hour ago: 'Unless it is Fucking Important, this number is not in service.'
It was, to give Pepper well deserved credit, pretty Fucking Important. Still, it took Tony a few more steadying breaths as he sunk back into his seat before he could even remember where his keys were (in his hand), then be able to pry his arms from their protective clench across his stomach, then (hold that breath, wipe your nose, you're fine) finally start the car. It was just long enough-- by the time he made it to the hotel, he was passably presentable. He even smiled at the bellhop, who was all sunshine back at him. Didn't he know he was smiling at Tony Stark? Tony Stark, assigned murderer? Tony Stark, figurehead leader and bismircher of the Avengers title? Tony Stark, self-absorbed control freak? Undeserving glory hound? Inconsiderate, pigheaded, cowardly, base, incorrigible addict?
Tony's smile was gone as soon as he looked away. In the elevator, he kept his eyes on the floor, ignoring the mirrored walls. And in the hall, he stopped outside of the door, just touching the wood with his fingertips before lightly tapping, hoping no one was there to answer. He didn't want to see anyone right now. He didn't want to be a part of anyone's life. He wanted to be in the garage on the couch without any sound in the room or in his head for once, for just a few hours, for just a break. He wanted a bottle or four of Black Label and that cashmere throw that was always folded over the lounge in the office and a bucket to puke in later so he didn't get it on the fabric and could start all over again.
He breathed, and he tapped on the door.