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Tenderness

Summary:

“Already awake, can as well get s'mthing done,” Tony mumbles. He slowly hangs his feet over the side of the bed, then pauses dizzily. Pepper can see one arm cradling his stomach.

“Go ahead,” she replies. “But this time I won´t talk Happy into carrying you upstairs if you pass out in the workshop.”

-or-

Tony with a bad migraine and Pepper looking after him.

Notes:

This is shorter than my usual ones, I hope that you like it nevertheless. There´s a lot of stuff currently happening to me, but I am planning a longer Irondad-Spiderson story once I find the time and peace to write it down properly. Follow me on xxx-cat-xxx.tumblr.com.

Work Text:

Pepper is not sure what woke her up. She is about to fall back asleep when a muffled moan carries over from Tony’s side of the bed. She glances at him, her eyes still sticky with sleep. Tony is curled into a ball under the blankets, and this alone is enough to make her frown, because it is definitely somewhat off-brand for Mr. 90-per-cent-of-the-bed-is-not-enough-for-me.

She sits up quietly. Tony’s head is hidden in the crook of his elbow, and she notices that his left hand is clutched into a fist, the slight tremors that always run through his fingers even more prominent than usual.

“Hey,” she whispers, bending over him. “What’s wrong?”

She half expects him not to answer, stuck in a nightmare. But then he turns his head just as much as necessary for him to speak and squints at her wearily.

“'S okay. You….bed. Sleep.”

His inability to form proper sentences gives her a good idea of what’s going on. “Migraine?” she asks.

“Hmmpf,” comes the groaned reply.

Pepper sighs. She waves towards the wall and the hologram of a digital clock appears, showing her that it’s just past 6:30 in the morning. Not strictly too early for her to get up, but earlier than she would have liked on a weekend. And definitely early for a migraine to start. If Tony is already in enough pain to not even try to escape to his workshop, this means it is a bad one.

She slides out of their bed and tiptoes to the bathroom to wash her face, frowning at the circles under her eyes and the wrinkles set around her mouth. The woman who looks back at her from the mirrored cabinet seems to bear more resemblance to her mother than to herself. Sometimes she doesn’t quite understand how the time slips though her fingers so quickly.

Pepper shakes the thoughts away, opens the cabinet and takes out a few pills, the strong ones, although she doubts they will have much of an effect now.

She sits down on Tony’s side of the mattress, turning up the lights just enough so that she can see what she’s doing. Tony’s face is unnaturally pale, his eyes shut tightly against the pain. She touches his forehead lightly, causing him to flinch away. He’s sweaty, but not warm.

“Okay, sit up,“ she directs. “Have medicine.”

“Go ‘way,” he slurs.

“Tony….,” she sighs. “Come on, don’t do this. For once in your life, please behave like an adult. ”

He hoists himself up, swaying as soon as he sits, and clutches the bedsheets as not to keel over. She helps him lean against the wall. He blindly reaches for the pills and throws them down dry, then takes a few sips of water before pushing it back at her, all colour draining from his face. He swallows sickly.

“Cn’t ya cut it off? I’ll build somethin’, some sort of head storage, just to deposit it for a few days until it gets fine.” He’s rambling. “‘S gonna be a hit on the pharma market.”

“Definitely,“ she replies, sarcasm tinging her tone, but careful to keep her voice low. “Because I’m sure you’ve found a fool-proof way of severing heads without killing the persons attached to them.” She sets the water on the table. “Okay, just lie back down.”

He shakes his head minutely, then stops, pain crossing his face.

“Already awake, can as well get s’mthing done,” he mumbles. He slowly hangs his feet over the side of the bed, then pauses dizzily. She can see one arm cradling his stomach.

“Go ahead,” she replies. “But this time I won’t talk Happy into carrying you upstairs if you pass out in the workshop.”

“I won’t - ” A small noise comes from his throat, his shoulders hunch forward a bit while a hand flies up to cover his mouth.

“Shit,” he brings out, scrambling to get up, but water and bile are already spilling down between his fingers. Pepper is faster and grabs a trash can just in time for the next heave to be contained.

She cringes when last night’s dinner hits the bottom, together with the now useless tablets. She tries not to look too closely. Tony is retching hard, his fingers gripping the can so tightly that his knuckles are turning white.

He vomits again, bringing up only bile, then lets his head fall onto the rim, panting and shaking. “Argh,” he manages to press out through gritted teeth. “Just…hate this part.”

“Yeah, me too,” she says, grimacing at the scene, but there’s sympathy in her voice. She helps him rinse his mouth, then picks up the trash can gingerly and deposits it in the bathroom for her to clean later, closing the door to keep the stench outside.

When she returns, Tony is still sitting hunched over at the edge of the mattress, elbows braced upon his knees, heels of his hands digging into his temples. His breaths are coming rapidly.

"Still feeling sick?” she asks.

“Hmm.” He doesn’t look up.

“Okay, let’s wait a bit and then try to get you drugged up again.”

She sits down beside him and he all but lets himself fall into her, pressing his body against hers, hiding his sweaty curls in between her collarbones. She lets her fingers run up and down his back, comforting him silently. It’s intimate in a way so different from their usual teasing and bickering, and despite her willing the pain to subside, she can’t help but treasure the closeness that comes with the vulnerability.

“Hey,” she whispers, gently lying down and wrapping a blanket around both of them. “I’ve gotcha, boss.”

They stay like that for a few minutes. Then his fingers start to tug at the hem of her shirt clumsily, trying to slide below it.

"You really can’t help yourself, can you?” she asks, half smirking, half exasperated.

"I’m me, whaddaya expect?” he rebuts.

Pepper pushes his hand back down firmly, then rests hers on top of it. “Well, that’s not happening today. You have any idea how you’re smelling?”

“’m always smellin’ great,” he chuckles, but even that sounds painful.

Pepper doesn’t reply, just wraps her fingers around his and presses them tightly. I’m there. She’ll have to get up eventually, cancel both of their day’s appointments, fix herself some breakfast, coax Tony to take more painkillers and keep down some liquid.

But for the moment, she just holds him close, stays with him until the trembling slowly subsides, until his shallow breaths become deep and regular, and sleep eventually pulls him under.

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