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Pepper Potts has never felt quite this sick in her life. She’s pale and clammy, and every little scent just about sends her over the edge and reaching for the trashcan that’s stashed under her desk. She’s only thrown up three times since she woke up this morning, which is already better than yesterday (six times before she’d even left the tower), but she still feels miserable.
Madeline, her assistant, knocks twice on the office door before popping her head inside.
“Ms. Potts? I was able to reschedule your meeting this morning with the representative from Oscorp. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
Pepper looks up at the young woman and begins to shake her head “no,” but before she can, Pepper is hunched over her trashcan for the fourth time that morning. It wouldn’t be so bad if she could just find a little bit of relief after getting sick, but unfortunately for Pepper, the nausea stays with her all day long.
Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Pepper looks back to her assistant and gives her an apologetic smile. “Food poisoning,” she explains as she takes a few sips of water from the bottle on her desk. “Oh and Madeline? Can you reschedule everything else I have planned for the day? I don’t feel like throwing up on someone’s shoes, and with the way today has gone? It’s seeming like more and more of a possibility.”
Madeline nods and looks down at the calendar in her arms, considering when to reschedule Pepper’s meetings that won’t conflict with everything else the woman already has going on. “I’ll have a new schedule sent to you by this afternoon,” she promises. “And I’ll send maintenance up right away.”
Pepper responds with a simple nod and waits for the footsteps outside of her office to die away before she opens her bottom desk drawer. She gazes at the contents inside for a few brief moments before giving the drawer a nudge with her foot at the same time she rests her cheek on the cool glass top of her desk.
As promised, maintenance arrives a few minutes after Madeline’s departure and Pepper has never been more thankful for their presence in her life. The nausea almost seems to be letting up, but just thinking she might be starting to feel better jinxes everything and Pepper finds herself bent over the trashcan again.
With a now empty stomach that can’t possibly have anything left in it, Pepper reopens her bottom desk drawer and grabs what she’s been looking at off and on for the past two days and places it in her oversized bag, making sure it’s buried below the contents inside. Standing at her office door, Pepper steels herself for the walk from office to bathroom, hoping no one stops her to chat.
She should’ve done this yesterday, she knows that, but yesterday she was still holding out hope that it was food poisoning, even though Tony had eaten the exact same sushi she had and was completely fine.
Pepper hates how undignified this all feels––being the CEO and hiding in the farthest bathroom stall from the door with a cheap piece of plastic in hand, waiting the three minutes as the box instructs her to do. She already knows what it’s going to say, she can feel it, but she still needs the proof. She would much rather do this at home, but there’s no way––she runs the risk of Tony finding out before she’s ready to tell him if she were to do it at home, so she’s stuck in a Stark Industries bathroom instead.
The alarm of Pepper’s phone echoes throughout the empty bathroom, signaling the passage of three minutes, but it catches her so off guard she lets out a small shriek and drops both her phone and the piece of plastic on the floor, creating a cacophony of sounds that make her feel even more guilty than she already does.
The phone is the first thing Pepper picks up because she wants to turn off the alarm and submerge herself back into the silence the bathroom is currently offering her. The next thing she retrieves is, of course, the piece of plastic she has now dubbed “the stick of destiny” in her mind.
Pepper turns the plastic over in her hand, and even though she was already expecting it, her stomach still feels like its dropped to her feet. She tilts her head back for a few moments and stares up at the harsh white lights in the ceiling before composing herself and standing. She can’t help but to check the readout on the plastic one last time before sliding it back into its box, which promptly goes back into her purse.
The two lines on the readout were such a bright shade of pink that there’s no denying what they mean; they didn’t even appear to be even slightly faded.
When she exits the bathroom stall, Pepper washes her hands and splashes a bit of water on her face, the nausea that had drifted off long enough for her to sneak into the bathroom creeping back up on her again.
She decides that she’s taking the rest of the day off, she deserves it after all. On her way to the elevators at the other end of the floor, she stops by Madeline’s office that is adjacent to hers and pokes her head in.
“I’m taking a day,” she tells the woman, trying to give her a smile. “Still not feeling the greatest, and I figure I can finish up my report from home. Forward all of my calls to voicemail.”
The moment she’s out of the building, Pepper is already starting to feel better and she chalks it up to the fresh air and how beautiful the weather is. The moment is short-lived, however, when an uncomfortable feeling settles in her stomach and Pepper finds herself retching into the bushes. She stands up and rests a hand on her stomach, dropping her hand almost as quickly as she rested it there, afraid someone might see.
In the privacy of her vehicle––thank you Tony for insisting on dark tinted windows––Pepper rests both of her hands on her stomach and drops her chin to her chest as she tries to imagine how Tony will take the news. He’ll be delighted, she’s sure, because even though he doesn’t seem like it to the public, Tony will make a great father. Pepper isn’t too worried about how he’ll feel once the shock wear off, but she's a little worried about what his initial reaction will be.
Another twinge works its way through her, but thankfully Pepper is able to keep herself from getting sick, though just barely.
“You don’t even have fingernails yet and you’re already causing me issues,” she mumbles, pulling away her hands to bring her seatbelt across her body. “Just like your father.”