you know who i am. (heartofscraps) wrote in zombieslogs, @ 2013-04-23 00:21:00 |
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Entry tags: | pepper potts, tony stark |
Who: Tony and Pepper
What: "Nothing good happens after 2 AM."
Where: The cabin they share
Warnings: ...honestly, no clue. Angst. And Tony's tired, so a warning for language, too. Will update if necessary.
Traveling at night was a horrible, terrible idea in a world infested with zombies, but Tony was too tired to give a shit about that. After giving himself a day and a half to rest after his ordeal with the Tank, Tony had gone to the base to work on the suit to repair it and had been working mostly nonstop since then. At some point he had napped for a few hours, had eaten when Steve had visited and afterwards whenever he had remembered, but his main drive was to fix the suit. Have it ready to go, because obviously anything could happen. Zombies happened. Hell Gods happened. Demons, monsters - he had to be ready. He had to be prepared, and as much as he hated to admit it, the fact that he was only human only heightened his need to be prepared. The cracked ribs were reminders of that. The hurting left wrist was proof of that. The bruises, the scratches, the busted lip. He was healing, but what was he outside of the suit? Often times he wondered, but the Tank had driven that point home when he had almost crushed him within his grasp. Now the Tank was gone, but there was still a Hell God to fight against, and if he wanted to be any sort of help, then he needed to finish the repairs.
After showering, shaving, and changing into clean clothes, Tony had gotten into his jeep and driven back to the cabin in the middle of the night. He knew that if anyone found out they would probably claim he was the dumbest genius alive, but at least he didn't encounter any zombies. None that he couldn't take care of by ramming the jeep into them on the drive in.
Once he was in the perimeter of the lot of land that he had secured with his security system, Tony parked before heading inside the cabin. His hair was still wet and already slicked back, but as he walked inside he couldn't help but run his fingers through it anyway. It wasn't a nervous habit, not really, he was just...
What, tired? Wired? It was too many things at once, and instead of going to the bedroom to look for Pepper, he just walked to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of scotch after taking off his jacket and tossing it on the couch. Maybe a nightcap would help, he figured as he took a sip and stared out the window.