-At Home, Week 10-
“Tony?”
At first, Tony didn’t respond to the sound of Pepper’s voice. It just didn’t seem worth the effort. Honestly, he didn’t have the energy to do anything but lie supine, still pajama-clad, and watch a thumb-sized house spider scuttle back and forth across the ceiling.
“It’s almost eleven. You’re going to miss your appointment with the physical therapist.”
“Don’t think I’m up to it, Pep.”
The bed sank beside Tony, but he kept his gaze focused on ol’ Charlotte, who paused in her spiderly perambulations as if she knew she was being watched.
“You missed your other appointments this week too,” Pepper pointed out, brushing a few greasy locks off Tony’s forehead.
“I know.”
Pepper didn’t add that Tony had barely moved from this spot since Monday. She probably didn’t want to nag, bless her. But Tony almost wished she would give him just one hard kick in the ass. He was tired of smelling his own unwashed funk. And he was tired of feeling like such a burden.
Two weeks prior, Dr. Craig had finally cleared Tony for some lightly strenuous activities beyond toileting and getting dressed. Alas, Tony’s motivation continued its downward slide.
His dicked-up brain chemistry was playing hell with his emotional state. Tony knew that. Fuck, he even knew what he had to do to dig himself out of that double-damned hole. But Dr. Nolan’s leather-bound reflection journal still sat untouched on the nightstand, another task left undone. Another thing torturing his conscience.
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
Oh. Pepper was still sitting beside him — still touching him. Of course she was. Because she was an angel — or a masochist. Jury was still out debating that one.
“I don’t know,” he replied simply after swallowing around the lump that had risen in his throat.
“Well — I kind of feel like taking a bath in the whirlpool. You want to join me?”
“What about Morgan?”
“Rhodey’s got her for the day.”
“Can we use her bath soap?”
“The bubble gum soap in the Iron Man bottle? Whatever you want.” Then Pepper suddenly grinned, running one finger around the rim of his ear. “Should I get the foam dinosaurs too?”
Baths were most emphatically not Tony’s thing until exposure therapy — and Pepper. But presently, he was able to relax into his wife’s ministrations, groaning a bit in relief as she scrubbed off a week’s worth of sickbed and washed his matted hair. By the time she dropped the washcloth and started massaging the knotted muscles in his back, he was a limp noodle, warm and pliable.
“Better?” Pepper asked.
“A little.”
“One thing down, right?”
“True.”
“Think you can talk about what brought this on?”
Tony sighed. “A little of everything. It’s been building since this all started. But I think the last straw was the other night.”
“When we tried —?”
“Yeah.”
“And you couldn’t?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s okay, Tony. It happens to everyone sometimes.”
“Not to me. Not with you, anyway.” Just a few other times when he was really, really drunk.
Pepper wrapped her arms around Tony’s chest and hugged him gently. “Are you thinking that not being able to — perform somehow makes you less of a man? Because it doesn’t.”
“Okay, I admit it: yeah, I was worried about that. But I’m more worried about what you need.”
“Hmm.” Pepper settled her chin in the notch between Tony’s neck and his shoulder. “Well, if — satisfying me really concerns you, you’re not without options. But this right here is pretty much all I need right now: you, alive and breathing in my arms.”
The lump in Tony’s throat returned, now three times its original size.
-At Home, Week 12-
“I’ve been thinking about the math lately.”
“The math, ya say?” On screen, Dr. Nolan leaned back and popped his pencil between his teeth. “Tell me more about this math,” he grumbled as he chewed. The psychiatrist had quit smoking quite some time ago, but apparently his oral fixation was harder to kick.
“Pep’s in her early forties and in perfect health,” Tony said. “And I’m — not. Even if I do make it to average life expectancy, she’ll probably outlive me. And Morgan? I’ll be in my sixties by the time she graduates from high school — even if she does finish early like I did.” And if she decides to get married, will I even be there for her wedding?
“Mmm. Think I’m catchin’ yer drift. And how does that make ya feel exactly?”
“Like I’ve wasted a lot of time I’m never getting back.” Tony rubbed at the dull ache that was building in his temples, then took a sip from a glass of now lukewarm water that Pepper had set on his desk several hours before. “My family is gonna suffer because I took so long to get my shit together and grow the hell up. And that kills me.”
“Ah. Basically, yer ruminatin’ over yer mortality, and it’s makin’ ya feel regretful.”
“Got it in one, doc.”
“Well, that’s not out o’ the ordinary for fellas in yer position, Stark. Hell, the near-death experience that scared me straight got me repentin’ that I was ever born. But it’s like I’ve always told ya: the past is in the past. Ya can’t change those mistakes, so there ain’t no use in lettin’ ‘em drag ya down. All ya can do is let ‘em inform what ya do from this point forward.”
“Now that I’m a little wiser, just keep on truckin’.”
“Bingo. And don’t drive yerself crazy over the future either. Even if all ya got is one more day, ya can still make somethin’ outta that scrap o’ time. Especially with that Einsteinian noggin of yers.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I guess I can.”
-At Home, Week 12, Later that Same Day-
Turning in a slow circle - and wincing as a broken egg shell crunched under her heels - Pepper mentally cataloged the damage to her kitchen with equal parts amusement and horror. The sink was piled high with dirty dishes. Flour and egg shells and dry pasta littered the floor, a crazy-quilt pattern of dropped and forgotten ingredients. And in the air hung a haze of smoke that stung her eyes and tickled the back of her throat.
“Pep!”
Pepper jumped a little, not expecting the hand that grasped her wrist..
“Okay,” Tony continued, not waiting for her to respond, “I know this looks bad and I promise to clean it up later but first let me show you something.” There was no discernable punctuation in that flood of words — but there was a hint of mania. Her curiosity kindled by her husband’s earnest excitement, Pepper decided not to resist Tony’s insistent tug.
Out in the dining room, a candlelight dinner awaited — and yes, it looked like Tony had prepared it himself. Pepper couldn’t help it: she gaped in wonder.
“I wanted to make a cake too but then Alex called and I got a little sidetracked and — “
Pepper stopped Tony with a kiss before he could finish. “I love it.”
“Oh. Well, I think I overcooked the pasta, and I don’t think the salad’s quite right, but I tried.”
“I can see that. And I appreciate it, Tony. Even if you aren’t a five-star chef.”
A broad, genuine smile lit Tony’s features. “I decided today I want to make every day special — somehow. I haven’t figured out everything I’m going to do but — I thought helping you with this would be a good start.”
“It is, Tony. And I can’t wait to see what you do next.”
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