Tony Stark (in_extremis) wrote in oh_marvelous, @ 2009-12-07 18:44:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | z: om1: !complete, z: om1: character: pepper potts, z: om1: character: tony stark, z: om1: location: california |
Actuate
Characters: Tony and Pepper
Setting: Home, Malibu. Early morning.
Content: Probably misogyny.
Summary: Good morning, Ms. Potts.
An attempt had been made to pack some of the garage to have it ready to be moved in the new year, but the boxes were all re-opened and much of their contents scattered. It had clearly been ill-advised to assume there were some things Tony could live without using for a few weeks. As soon as he couldn't have them, of course, he had to. So when he lifted his head off of his desk, rubbing sleep from his eye with the heel of his hand and peering around trying to remember what he had been doing down here before the very inconvenient interruption of a nap, he found too much information to process in this state. Standing, stretching the crick out of his back with the back of his hand pressed over his yawn, he had to pick his way through the gadgets and scraps and ends to slip around the door and drag himself up the stairs.
It wasn't quite bright up there-- brighter than New York, surely, but Tony was only squinting for a moment before the light was dulled and he was shuffling in a calmer grey darkness. How long had he been down there? Not very, he knew he would find a warm, dozing body in his bed if Pepper was not around yet to rouse her. Tony was shrugging up the sleeve of slippery silk robe to peer at his watch, wondering when Pepper typically put in an appearance. Did he have time to wake up his new friend his own way? Probably not, unless he wanted to fall asleep on her. He shook his sleeves out again, rummaging through the kitchen as he had intended, which was where he stood, as far as he got, when the door opened and the lights came up again. A jar of peanut butter was tucked under his arm, the lid on the counter, while he squinted at his PDA in one hand and sucked peanut butter off of his finger.
Quarter to eight. He knew that.