InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "you're a couple of what?!"

tony (tony) wrote in payline,
@ 2013-10-30 01:38:00

Entry tags:

!closed, john watson (canon), tony stark (canon)

Who: Tony Stark & Dr. John Watson
When: Tuesday, October 29, directly following [this]
Where: starting in the lobby
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Tony can be unpredictable? I don't know. I might adjust the rating if he doesn't maintain himself. I doubt there should be anything to worry about in here.
Summary: Tony seeks help from a professed medical practitioner while offering a little of his own.
Status: Closed/Incomplete

Revolutionaries didn't get to be revolutionary by sitting around. There wasn't time to sit around when one was trying to introduce the world to something it had never seen before.

Tony Stark had never been one who was capable of sitting around. If he had been anyone else's child, he would have been diagnosed with some form of ADHD or ADD or something, but he was Howard Stark's son and that had meant that it was acceptable for him to spend hours upon hours trying to build things far beyond his years. It was expected that he build his first circuit board by the time that he was four. It was acceptable that he had managed to build his first engine before turning seven. It was fine that he had graduated top of his class at MIT by the time that he was seventeen.

There had never been time for him to slow down because even at his best all he could ever be was good enough for his father and good enough wasn't acceptable to someone like Tony Stark.

He had lived his life at a run to try to get ahead of his father's shadow, but here he was, once again, getting outsmarted by something that was trying to remind him that he was nothing more than a man in a can---only he wasn't even that anymore was he? Pepper had wanted him to give up the suits. They had gotten out of his control, started to wear him as much he wore them.

She had been scared. Afraid of him. Tony had done that to her: made her afraid. He had made her afraid to sleep in her own bed, in his bed that she had finally agreed to share with him and he really, really didn't deserve her and it wasn't worth it.

The more that he repeated that to himself, the more that Tony imagined it would start to sink in.

Tony Stark was more than Iron Man. He was more than some suit. Steve Rogers had thrown that in his face once and only once because Tony Stark was more than the suit.

He had set JARVIS to run scans on everything that the AI could get access to in the makeshift Mandalay the minute that he realized what had happened to him. They were trapped in this place. Tony hadn't needed to be told that though JARVIS had seen fit to point out that his sensors couldn't stretch nearly as far as they should be able to if they were actually in Vegas. There was no way this place was really Vegas either. Tony had spent more time in Vegas than any man should admit to while sober. He knew every inch of the best places to stay there and this Mandalay was a good copy but it was nothing more than that: a copy.

Pepper landing in the place with him was a bonus as much as it was a set-back of the kind that Tony couldn't afford when he was trying to puzzle out what kind of mess he was trapped in now. She was still coming off of the Extremis. Tony had---he had fixed her as much as he could, as much as anyone could, but they were still working on it. Every day Tony woke up worried that he'd miscalculated, made a mistake, missed something, and he couldn't afford to miss anything where Pepper was concerned because what would he do without her? What would he be without her?

He wouldn't be any kind of hero that was for damned sure.

Pepper made him want to be the kind of man who deserved to be able to call himself a hero. She made him want to be worthy of her.

That meant he was meeting up with some quack who couldn't figure out a basic tablet -weren't they making those for toddlers now? seriously?- because he might be able to offer up an opinion on Pepper's condition that Tony hadn't considered yet and he couldn't dismiss that opportunity. Pepper was worth taking the risk. She was worth asking for help from anyone, everyone, and Tony wouldn't hesitate to put a smile on his face even as he wore a path in the floor of the lobby trying to reason out the best possible explanation for this new world they'd fallen into.

Pausing mid-step, Tony turned to look toward the elevator bank he'd found the note at thanks to a ping from JARVIS, he threw a hand up in a wave, "Evening! I'm Tony Stark, I'm thinking you've got to be Doctor Watson, and now we've officially met! Fantastic!"

He held a hand out for the doctor as he moved to meet him only to stop, hesitating as he asked, "Please tell me that you come from a time period where doctors have at least discovered the benefits of hand-washing. This is really going to get awkward fast if not."

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tony
2013-11-04 09:30 pm UTC (link)

"A consulting detective whose exploits are interesting enough that they run the presses for whatever you want to print about them making him that time frame's equivalent of what? A rock star? This is your friend back home? Yeah. I think we'll get along just fine."

That guy had to be a headcase. There was no way that Tony was buying that a former military physician would retire to a peaceful life at what had to be a pretty young age without having something to keep his world interesting; Doc Watson seemed fond of the detective which meant they had to have ran around enough to have earned him a few stories under his belt to keep the guy in his good graces. It was likely that there was a touch of the inquisitor in him, too, which would work out in Tony's favor if it were true.

People who were curious by nature tended to be more apt to put up with his attitude to stick around with him if for no other reason than to find out what was going to happen next.

Tony Stark was what happened next as far as he was concerned.

He was the past, present, and future of weaponry thanks to his father's legacy along with his own work.

There weren't people who could do what Tony could do. He'd proven that before. He was fine with proving it again in this place if it came down to it.

Jerking the doors open to Raffles, Tony nodded waved a hand ahead, "After you, Doctor."

He didn't think they'd have a hard time finding a seat considering it seemed that they were virtually the only patrons of the place while staff milled around aimlessly. There was a vacant look to the staff that never quite seemed to go away even when they were being spoken to directly; the only responses Tony had ever gotten out of them had been 'yes, sir' or 'directly' or some sort of affirmation that they had heard his requests if he asked for something in particular. Questions about the hotel or their invisible hosts were met with nothing more than continued silence. These were not the kind of beings who could be interrogated.

"I don't think I'm worried about you treating Pepper appropriately as much as I'm worried that you won't be able to help with her condition. Pepper is the kind of woman who commands her own respect. That's why she's the CEO for Stark Industries. I didn't put her in charge because I liked the way she filled out a dress. I put her in charge because she's better at running the company than I am. I'm the Idea Man. I make things. I build things. I create the future. Pepper makes sure we get paid for it. We compliment each other well. So, scotch? I'm a scotch man myself. I like it neat, I like it older than me, and I like it in a tumbler big enough to let it breathe deep before I taste it. Do you have a preference on your drink?"

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watson_md
2013-11-04 11:00 pm UTC (link)

John smiled at that, removing his hat yet again and tucking it under his arm, with an air that feel somewhere between a gentleman's habit and a military man's precision. "Neat," he said. "I prefer mine neat, and well-aged, and single malt. And I generally prefer to have the bottle brought to the table and left. But I've been drinking at the Oriental Club for so long that they know my habits entirely well."

The rest, however, the rest required far more consideration than how he liked his whisky. (John was a simple man in his drink -- he liked the best he could afford, and he liked as much of it as he could manage in a sitting, much to Mary's dismay. Temperance was not one of his virtues, no matter how much he thought it ought to be.) It was a great deal to process. A woman, in charge of a manufacturing enterprise, and she was the kept lover of the man who propelled the enterprise forward. It was mind-boggling. It was almost too much to quite process. John tried to wrap his mind around it. Why wasn't it possible? Aside from the deplorable state of the education of women and their legal standing. If those things were remedied, why wasn't it possible? Wasn't Mary smart enough to wind circles around him, if given half the chance and the information needed to do so? Why couldn't a woman like her run firms and companies and enterprises if allowed to do so, exceptional women with talents and minds like men? Why wasn't it possible.

"I'm quite looking forward to meeting Miss Potts," John said with a smile, coming to his conclusion as he said the words, and he meant them entirely. "I confess I am wholly intrigued and find the prospect fascinating, medical issues aside. Though I'm curious about those, too, naturally. I see women have proven themselves remarkably capable in this brave new world."

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tony
2013-11-05 11:36 pm UTC (link)

Having the bottle at the table was something that Tony had often preferred himself. It was easier to pour his own drinks and it was easier still to do it while he regaled his audience with tales of his exploits, keeping his hands moving as he spoke, standing up, sitting down, leaning, laughing, always moving; that kept them from noticing how many times he lifted the bottle to tip just a little more into the glass, how many times he drank it down to less than an ounce, how much of the bottle wound up being drained into his glass and his glass alone. There were benefits to being willing to pour his own drink that Tony had figured out a long time before he was prepared to admit that he was an alcoholic.

That wasn't the doctor's problem though and Tony could control himself. He had a reason to control himself now. Pepper would probably tell him that he should be his own reason or that he should want to be in control for himself, but Tony knew better than that. It wasn't about him. His entire life have been about himself. Decades of his life had been wasted on himself, his goals, his ambitions, his need to prove something to a dead man who'd have never been able to acknowledge his success even if he'd lived to see it.

Pepper was a lot better reason to motivate himself out of his vices than some desire to be better for himself.

The staff was only too happy to bring the bottle to them and Tony was willing to have it settled on the table. He ordered a burger -American cheese, bacon, mayo, lettuce, extra tomatoes, toasted bun- and fries to go with his liquor before waiting for Dr. Watson to order something for himself. They had brought Tony a glass of water which he was very grateful for though he wondered if it was telling that they'd brought it along with their tumblers while waiting to bring the doctor his own until after they had taken their food order.

"Pepper is the most capable person I know. She kept me sane for a long time. When I forgot to eat, sleep, shower, all the basics, it was Pepper who remembered. There isn't anything that I wouldn't trust her with and I've never met a man who I would say that about. Time progresses a lot, doctor. Women aren't second-class citizens. They are people not to be messed with or else most of the time and an angry woman? A lot more scary than an angry man."

He rolled his tumbler between his hands as he stared at the amber liquid in the glass, fascinated all over again at how he could think of this glass as the only one he would have, pleased that it felt as if it be enough.

"I lead a very---unusual life, Doc. I attract unusual people who want unusual things from me. Mostly bad things. Some of those unusual people decided to take Pepper to make a point. I love her. It's considered common knowledge that I love me more than anything, but these people knew that I loved her and they took her. They did things to her that I helped them to manage without even knowing what I was doing. I was drunk and I gave an answer to a problem to a woman I forgot about after one night. That cost Pepper a lot. She was injected with a biochemical weapon of war that turned her into a weapon of war. I have reversed the effects to the best of my knowledge, but I keep an eye on her vitals to see if I've missed anything. I need to be sure. This was a project run by little men playing at godhood. It wasn't an exact science. My fix? It wasn't an exact science either. You think you can handle checking out my superwoman to see if she's only as super as she started out being?"

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watson_md
2013-11-09 01:46 am UTC (link)

John exhaled softly at the information, letting it all wash over him yet again, thoughts of food, even the memory of what he'd selected nearly at random of the menu, forgotten. Biochemicals making people into living weapons of war. Women into living weapons of war. And all done as a means of revenge, or at least, settling a score of some sort or another. Mr Tony Stark, it seemed, was a man of a great deal of danger and attracted more than his share of attention, thanks to his mind and his capability to solve problems -- as well as create them. He needed individuals to surround him to mediate his troublesome impulses and ensure that he had a level of basic care and common sense. This was, John thought in his heart of hearts, a common affliction of men of means who had genius as their burden along with class. How fascinating. How odd. How utterly, deeply, damnably familiar. Was he ever going to attract the attention of individuals who weren't prone to engaging themselves in cataclysmic events through their own cleverness and conviction of their necessity to the ongoing events of the world?

Inwardly, John sighed, but he nodded instead of giving his thoughts purchase on his face. He took a long, stiff drink and let the liquor burn down his windpipe. That was a familiar, concrete thing that made sense rather than the familiar that washed over him again and again, reminding him of Holmes and reminding him of the distance between himself and Holmes. How different they were. How accustomed he was to difference. How difference intrigued him. And Holmes was right. He would do anything when intrigued. Like cats and curiosity, John had a compelling drive to answer his questions and in the process, enjoy the racing of his own heart.

"I can certainly keep an eye on the good lady's vital signs and take records of it all in order to keep a perspective on her condition, but I confess to being wholly out of my depth when it comes to biochemical anything, frankly," he said at last. "I'm happy to provide what care I can, and I, of course, understand if you wish to opt for a more … advanced physician." The last was delicate. He had become good at delicate.

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