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Marvel Cinematic, "Ozymandias" (Tony/Pepper)
Near-death experiences, as Tony has learned well, have a way of getting you thinking about your life and your accomplishments. He doesn't want everything he has to end when he does. He wants... to leave someone behind.
Contains Tony/Pepper. Features people using cell phones with more familiarity than the last one, near-death experiences, literary references, and post-Avengers movie trauma/humor to deflect the trauma. Fills the sacrifice square on my![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
hc_bingo card.
.ozymandias.
When the fighting was all over, and the shawarma was chewed and swallowed, Tony sat down outside the restaurant and rifled through his pocket for his cell phone. He lifted his head, feeling the breeze on his skin -- the smell of smoke and twisted metal riding high on the air -- before lifting it to his ear.
"Jarvis? Do I have any suitably mortified voicemails?"
"More than you would care to listen to, Sir," answered the soothing robotic voice: master of the Stark household, the Stark social agenda, and the Stark communications network. "Shall I dial Miss Potts?"
Tony paused and then said, "Yeah. Let's do this."
Two rings in he was contemplating how fast it would get old if they kept missing each other, but on the third the line connected.
Immediately, he accused, "You didn't. Even. Pick up the phone."
"Tony, oh my God, Tony--"
"Tell me, what were you doing that was more important than your boyfriend defending New York City from a combined alien slash nuclear attack? I thought from your comment about how you want the next building to be leased in your name that you already understood that if I die, you don't get all my stuff."
"My phone never stopped ringing! Everyone in your Rolodex was calling to ask what was going on, I set it to mute so I could watch you! On the news! When I realized I'd missed a call from you-- I've been trying to call you back for the last hour, what have you been doing?!"
"Yeah. Doesn't feel so good, does it?"
"This is not a joke, Tony! I am seriously worried about you. Just tell me if you're okay."
That struck him as funny, and even in his own head it felt like the dim echo of a fleeting hysteria that could not quite take hold of him. Tony closed his eyes, lowering his head to his hand and rubbing one temple. He had kept it together this long, and he would not lose it now. "Never been better," Tony answered. "Not really inclined to visit outer space again anytime soon, as shocked as my childhood self would be to hear me say that. But I recommend the near-death experience part. If I don't get one of those every couple months, who knows what I'll start doing to replace it in my life? I'm starting to think I might be turning into an adrenaline junkie."
There was silence on the other end of the phone, one that stretched out uncomfortably long. Tony could only imagine what Pepper was thinking -- and he did, and in his imagination she was horrified and pitying, and he didn't want her pity. So he kept talking.
"Uh, that was the part where you express some form of dismay or skepticism over the idea that I could exhibit even more reckless behavior. Did you not get the script I sent you?"
"Tony. I'm on the jet now. I'll be there in an hour. Are you going to be okay until I get there?"
He was so tired of worrying her. Tony set his jaw, thinking about all the things he'd meant to say to her if she'd just picked up the damn phone.
Now that he'd survived he obviously couldn't say any of it.
"Why don't you pretend -- since we both know it's not true," he began, "just pretend for the next hour that I am a grown man, capable of taking care of myself without a babysitter for an hour."
"Okay, Tony. God. I wish I were there with you."
He flicked a glance up at the others. Natasha was bent over Steve, tending to the wound on his abdomen that would probably be healed before the day was out. Thor stood guard over his brother, who was playing penitence so thoroughly that he was only missing a Catholic schoolboy's uniform, but Clint was hovering conspicuously nearby with bow in hand and an arrow in his quiver that Tony knew had Loki's name on it. Bruce was the odd man out, fidgeting with the clothes Tony had loaned him from the tower, and looking rather uncomfortable. He seemed to feel Tony's glance, looked up, and offered him a quick wry smile.
Tony told her, "Well, you could be. I mean, symbolically. In sickness and in health, all that good stuff."
"What? Tony."
"Let's get married," he said.
There was a very long silence on the other end. She was not, Tony concluded, cartwheeling for joy, although he enjoyed the idea of his flight attendants attempting to corral her enthusiasm.
Then Pepper said suspiciously, "Are you drunk, Tony?"
"I can't say that's an unreasonable response." Tony leaned forward on his knees. The Mark VII had long ago been sent on its way: it had been engineered to come to him, attach, serve in the heat of battle, and then quietly detach and go away when the battle was won. It had not been engineered for prolonged use -- or for space travel, of course, and he was starting to regret not taking Jarvis up on that little bit of advice. But that was the only reason he wasn't still wearing it now. "I promised you no more drinking before dusk, and I meant it."
"Well, I wouldn't have been surprised if you'd decided today was an exception to the rule," she said matter-of-factly. "But if you're not drunk on alcohol, you're obviously drunk on that adrenaline you're getting so addicted to instead. Asking a question like that--"
"Actually, I didn't ask."
"That's great. Great. Because then I don't have to answer. And I'm not dignifying that with an answer. So that's great." Her voice was exasperated now, and exasperated was so many times better than pity, but still not where he wanted it to be.
Tony paused a beat, and then started, "Pepper, I--"
And then stopped. There was too much.
How could he say to her that today he'd felt very small and very insignificant? That this morning someone he had actually respected, someone who had saved her life and been her friend, had died on his watch and made him realize that he wasn't, that none of them were, immortal? That an hour's eternity ago, he had seen the vastness of the universe from his vantage point as a speck of nothing floating in it, and felt his armor and his body shut down, and thought about how meaningless everything he'd ever done was and how he would leave behind nothing but a bunch of buildings with his name on them like Shelley's Ozymandias?
That he'd thought about Pepper, thin and grieving and businesslike, struggling desperately to make sure his estate didn't pass into the hands of vultures, with no more claim to it than what had been explicitly named for her in his will. She wouldn't wear her hair down anymore and she wouldn't dress down for private meals at home and she wouldn't kick off her gorgeous high heels and pad around barefoot, but even as professional as she could be, they would all point at her and call her a gold-digger and refuse to see all that she'd lost because she'd pinned her hopes on him.
Couldn't say any of that either.
Tony threw up his hands and protested, "I like it and I want to put a ring on it! Am I not allowed?"
"Tony, we haven't even..." Pepper paused, and then lowered her voice. "We haven't even had sex yet."
His lips quirked up, and he said, "Are you being shy, right now? Is this self-consciousness? Because" --lifting his own voice, half-shouting-- "that's adorable!"
"Oh my God."
Tony shook himself out, relaxing again; ignoring the eyes now fixed on him from all sides. He said, conversationally, "You're going to have to be careful throwing that phrase around so much. I've spent a little time with a god recently, so I might get confused about which one you're referring to. Your god is -- me, right?"
He heard her sigh, and then say, "This is all in really poor taste if you're just trying to get me into bed."
"I am trying to marry you," he said, enunciating clearly. "If I wanted to get you into bed, wouldn't I just have had to wait for you in whatever's left of my bedroom with a big red ribbon tied around me? I mean, you already promised, and I'm pretty sure saving the tri-state area and possibly the planet doesn't hurt my chances any."
"Tony..."
"But we're not." He knew that very clearly now. "You're going to come home, and we're going to get dinner from L'Absinthe, and I may order a salad because after my first attempted ingestion of shawarma I might be done with meat for a week or so. And we're going to talk. And then we'll probably curl up on the couch and watch TV until we fall asleep." He held up a finger, pointing accusingly at an emergency responder picking through the rubble across the street, who didn't notice. "And don't try any funny business. I want our wedding night to be special."
When they'd decided to take their time, go slow, it had been a deliberate choice. It had felt wrong -- maybe even cheap -- to simply hurtle straight into a sexual relationship. He didn't want Pepper to feel like he wasn't valuing her for herself. He didn't want him to feel like that. He wanted what he had with Pepper to be different. Meaningful.
He'd needed that. Not because sex wasn't beautiful and wonderful, not because they wouldn't both love it and shouldn't want it, but because he'd finally found something he actually wanted to enjoy for its own sake, and sex was only a part of that.
Sex was only a part of it. He didn't want her with him because he wanted to sleep with her.
He just... wanted her with him.
"You're crazy, Tony." But she was smiling now, he could hear it in her voice. "...Meet me at the airfield?"
"Sure. I'll head there right after I swing by the jeweler's. Quick question: you want something huge and garish that could feature in a Bond movie as the power source of a superweapon, right?"
"I thought we were going to talk, and -- sleep on it. Don't you dare buy me a ring!"
Tony shoved himself to his feet. "You just want to pick it out yourself."
"Mm-hmm. That's right, I do. But what's your credit card number, Tony?"
He paused, shifting to look down at his pockets. He didn't have his wallet on him -- it was on the Helicarrier with his things. Did he know his credit card number? "I thought everyone else was supposed to know it," he said. "Usually I introduce myself and they just agree to send me a bill."
"Yeah, well, that's not how it works with normal people. Just turn off the radio before you start to get any more ideas from 2008, and relax until I get there."
"So bossy," Tony observed delightedly. "Good thing I like it." And then he took a breath, and added, quick, "Just give me one more second. There's something I-- have to tell you."
He heard her pausing expectantly, and so he started to think of the words, how to tell her about Phil. She would probably be shocked and sad. He thought about her plaintive wish to be near him now after all that had happened, and how she would feel to take such a blow alone.
How he would feel, not to be able to comfort her. Not having her lean on him for strength, and giving him hers.
And he changed his mind. "--You know what, I don't think the phone is... It's probably not the right way to do this. I'll tell you over dinner."
Her tone grew acidic so fast he winced. "Wow. But, marriage proposal, casually tossed out over the phone?"
That was going to be one of those things that came back to haunt him. "Hey, at least this time you picked up," he countered. He had some leverage of his own to lambast her with. "I'll tell you what -- when you've picked out a ring, I'll present it to you very seriously. Down on one knee. Tuxedo. Fancy restaurant. The works."
"A tuxedo?"
"Yeah, it... might have AC/DC written on the back. You know, a Back in Black-themed tuxedo."
She laughed a little, and then he heard her muffling it. After a beat, she murmured, "I love you, Tony."
He closed his eyes, picturing her in his mind: the way she looked, the expression softening her face, her eyes, her sincerity... And he felt some of the unease that had been lingering at the back of his mind, lurking behind his eyelids whenever he blinked, abruptly start to lift.
"I think I needed to hear that," he informed her.
"I know," she said, and hung up.
Contains Tony/Pepper. Features people using cell phones with more familiarity than the last one, near-death experiences, literary references, and post-Avengers movie trauma/humor to deflect the trauma. Fills the sacrifice square on my
hc_bingo card..ozymandias.
When the fighting was all over, and the shawarma was chewed and swallowed, Tony sat down outside the restaurant and rifled through his pocket for his cell phone. He lifted his head, feeling the breeze on his skin -- the smell of smoke and twisted metal riding high on the air -- before lifting it to his ear.
"Jarvis? Do I have any suitably mortified voicemails?"
"More than you would care to listen to, Sir," answered the soothing robotic voice: master of the Stark household, the Stark social agenda, and the Stark communications network. "Shall I dial Miss Potts?"
Tony paused and then said, "Yeah. Let's do this."
Two rings in he was contemplating how fast it would get old if they kept missing each other, but on the third the line connected.
Immediately, he accused, "You didn't. Even. Pick up the phone."
"Tony, oh my God, Tony--"
"Tell me, what were you doing that was more important than your boyfriend defending New York City from a combined alien slash nuclear attack? I thought from your comment about how you want the next building to be leased in your name that you already understood that if I die, you don't get all my stuff."
"My phone never stopped ringing! Everyone in your Rolodex was calling to ask what was going on, I set it to mute so I could watch you! On the news! When I realized I'd missed a call from you-- I've been trying to call you back for the last hour, what have you been doing?!"
"Yeah. Doesn't feel so good, does it?"
"This is not a joke, Tony! I am seriously worried about you. Just tell me if you're okay."
That struck him as funny, and even in his own head it felt like the dim echo of a fleeting hysteria that could not quite take hold of him. Tony closed his eyes, lowering his head to his hand and rubbing one temple. He had kept it together this long, and he would not lose it now. "Never been better," Tony answered. "Not really inclined to visit outer space again anytime soon, as shocked as my childhood self would be to hear me say that. But I recommend the near-death experience part. If I don't get one of those every couple months, who knows what I'll start doing to replace it in my life? I'm starting to think I might be turning into an adrenaline junkie."
There was silence on the other end of the phone, one that stretched out uncomfortably long. Tony could only imagine what Pepper was thinking -- and he did, and in his imagination she was horrified and pitying, and he didn't want her pity. So he kept talking.
"Uh, that was the part where you express some form of dismay or skepticism over the idea that I could exhibit even more reckless behavior. Did you not get the script I sent you?"
"Tony. I'm on the jet now. I'll be there in an hour. Are you going to be okay until I get there?"
He was so tired of worrying her. Tony set his jaw, thinking about all the things he'd meant to say to her if she'd just picked up the damn phone.
Now that he'd survived he obviously couldn't say any of it.
"Why don't you pretend -- since we both know it's not true," he began, "just pretend for the next hour that I am a grown man, capable of taking care of myself without a babysitter for an hour."
"Okay, Tony. God. I wish I were there with you."
He flicked a glance up at the others. Natasha was bent over Steve, tending to the wound on his abdomen that would probably be healed before the day was out. Thor stood guard over his brother, who was playing penitence so thoroughly that he was only missing a Catholic schoolboy's uniform, but Clint was hovering conspicuously nearby with bow in hand and an arrow in his quiver that Tony knew had Loki's name on it. Bruce was the odd man out, fidgeting with the clothes Tony had loaned him from the tower, and looking rather uncomfortable. He seemed to feel Tony's glance, looked up, and offered him a quick wry smile.
Tony told her, "Well, you could be. I mean, symbolically. In sickness and in health, all that good stuff."
"What? Tony."
"Let's get married," he said.
There was a very long silence on the other end. She was not, Tony concluded, cartwheeling for joy, although he enjoyed the idea of his flight attendants attempting to corral her enthusiasm.
Then Pepper said suspiciously, "Are you drunk, Tony?"
"I can't say that's an unreasonable response." Tony leaned forward on his knees. The Mark VII had long ago been sent on its way: it had been engineered to come to him, attach, serve in the heat of battle, and then quietly detach and go away when the battle was won. It had not been engineered for prolonged use -- or for space travel, of course, and he was starting to regret not taking Jarvis up on that little bit of advice. But that was the only reason he wasn't still wearing it now. "I promised you no more drinking before dusk, and I meant it."
"Well, I wouldn't have been surprised if you'd decided today was an exception to the rule," she said matter-of-factly. "But if you're not drunk on alcohol, you're obviously drunk on that adrenaline you're getting so addicted to instead. Asking a question like that--"
"Actually, I didn't ask."
"That's great. Great. Because then I don't have to answer. And I'm not dignifying that with an answer. So that's great." Her voice was exasperated now, and exasperated was so many times better than pity, but still not where he wanted it to be.
Tony paused a beat, and then started, "Pepper, I--"
And then stopped. There was too much.
How could he say to her that today he'd felt very small and very insignificant? That this morning someone he had actually respected, someone who had saved her life and been her friend, had died on his watch and made him realize that he wasn't, that none of them were, immortal? That an hour's eternity ago, he had seen the vastness of the universe from his vantage point as a speck of nothing floating in it, and felt his armor and his body shut down, and thought about how meaningless everything he'd ever done was and how he would leave behind nothing but a bunch of buildings with his name on them like Shelley's Ozymandias?
That he'd thought about Pepper, thin and grieving and businesslike, struggling desperately to make sure his estate didn't pass into the hands of vultures, with no more claim to it than what had been explicitly named for her in his will. She wouldn't wear her hair down anymore and she wouldn't dress down for private meals at home and she wouldn't kick off her gorgeous high heels and pad around barefoot, but even as professional as she could be, they would all point at her and call her a gold-digger and refuse to see all that she'd lost because she'd pinned her hopes on him.
Couldn't say any of that either.
Tony threw up his hands and protested, "I like it and I want to put a ring on it! Am I not allowed?"
"Tony, we haven't even..." Pepper paused, and then lowered her voice. "We haven't even had sex yet."
His lips quirked up, and he said, "Are you being shy, right now? Is this self-consciousness? Because" --lifting his own voice, half-shouting-- "that's adorable!"
"Oh my God."
Tony shook himself out, relaxing again; ignoring the eyes now fixed on him from all sides. He said, conversationally, "You're going to have to be careful throwing that phrase around so much. I've spent a little time with a god recently, so I might get confused about which one you're referring to. Your god is -- me, right?"
He heard her sigh, and then say, "This is all in really poor taste if you're just trying to get me into bed."
"I am trying to marry you," he said, enunciating clearly. "If I wanted to get you into bed, wouldn't I just have had to wait for you in whatever's left of my bedroom with a big red ribbon tied around me? I mean, you already promised, and I'm pretty sure saving the tri-state area and possibly the planet doesn't hurt my chances any."
"Tony..."
"But we're not." He knew that very clearly now. "You're going to come home, and we're going to get dinner from L'Absinthe, and I may order a salad because after my first attempted ingestion of shawarma I might be done with meat for a week or so. And we're going to talk. And then we'll probably curl up on the couch and watch TV until we fall asleep." He held up a finger, pointing accusingly at an emergency responder picking through the rubble across the street, who didn't notice. "And don't try any funny business. I want our wedding night to be special."
When they'd decided to take their time, go slow, it had been a deliberate choice. It had felt wrong -- maybe even cheap -- to simply hurtle straight into a sexual relationship. He didn't want Pepper to feel like he wasn't valuing her for herself. He didn't want him to feel like that. He wanted what he had with Pepper to be different. Meaningful.
He'd needed that. Not because sex wasn't beautiful and wonderful, not because they wouldn't both love it and shouldn't want it, but because he'd finally found something he actually wanted to enjoy for its own sake, and sex was only a part of that.
Sex was only a part of it. He didn't want her with him because he wanted to sleep with her.
He just... wanted her with him.
"You're crazy, Tony." But she was smiling now, he could hear it in her voice. "...Meet me at the airfield?"
"Sure. I'll head there right after I swing by the jeweler's. Quick question: you want something huge and garish that could feature in a Bond movie as the power source of a superweapon, right?"
"I thought we were going to talk, and -- sleep on it. Don't you dare buy me a ring!"
Tony shoved himself to his feet. "You just want to pick it out yourself."
"Mm-hmm. That's right, I do. But what's your credit card number, Tony?"
He paused, shifting to look down at his pockets. He didn't have his wallet on him -- it was on the Helicarrier with his things. Did he know his credit card number? "I thought everyone else was supposed to know it," he said. "Usually I introduce myself and they just agree to send me a bill."
"Yeah, well, that's not how it works with normal people. Just turn off the radio before you start to get any more ideas from 2008, and relax until I get there."
"So bossy," Tony observed delightedly. "Good thing I like it." And then he took a breath, and added, quick, "Just give me one more second. There's something I-- have to tell you."
He heard her pausing expectantly, and so he started to think of the words, how to tell her about Phil. She would probably be shocked and sad. He thought about her plaintive wish to be near him now after all that had happened, and how she would feel to take such a blow alone.
How he would feel, not to be able to comfort her. Not having her lean on him for strength, and giving him hers.
And he changed his mind. "--You know what, I don't think the phone is... It's probably not the right way to do this. I'll tell you over dinner."
Her tone grew acidic so fast he winced. "Wow. But, marriage proposal, casually tossed out over the phone?"
That was going to be one of those things that came back to haunt him. "Hey, at least this time you picked up," he countered. He had some leverage of his own to lambast her with. "I'll tell you what -- when you've picked out a ring, I'll present it to you very seriously. Down on one knee. Tuxedo. Fancy restaurant. The works."
"A tuxedo?"
"Yeah, it... might have AC/DC written on the back. You know, a Back in Black-themed tuxedo."
She laughed a little, and then he heard her muffling it. After a beat, she murmured, "I love you, Tony."
He closed his eyes, picturing her in his mind: the way she looked, the expression softening her face, her eyes, her sincerity... And he felt some of the unease that had been lingering at the back of his mind, lurking behind his eyelids whenever he blinked, abruptly start to lift.
"I think I needed to hear that," he informed her.
"I know," she said, and hung up.