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They find him in the proverbial dark alley behind the club, flirting with a guy twice his size and equally intoxicated. The street smells like piss and vomit; Tony smells like booze and dope and maybe something worse. His tie is undone, his dark hair disheveled, the top buttons of his dress shirt opened just enough to draw attention to his collarbones. He looks sexy in a way that might have attracted Pepper years ago, back when she thought that loss of control equalled excitement, but she is not a college girl anymore.
Tony’s so far gone that he doesn’t seem to mind when Pepper drags him away from the mountain of a man and into the backseat of the waiting car. Happy wrinkles his nose, but chooses not to comment, just presses the accelerator to bring them out of the city.
They’ve left downtown L.A. far behind when Tony bolts upright and stares at Pepper in wide-eyed confusion, hands searching for a hold on the vehicle’s pristine leather interior.
“Did I fuck up ‘gain?” he slurs, his tone somewhere between feigned regret and honest curiosity.
“That’s a way to put it,” Pepper responds. “You could’ve at least told me the address of that club before taking off. Would have saved us two hours of searching for you.”
“Come on, it was a rough day. Let a guy have some fun.”
“We’ve all had a rough day,” she replies, not bothering to conceal the exhaustion in her voice.
“Yeah, yeah,” he dismisses, letting his head fall back against the headrest.
There’s no need for an argument because they know how it would go down, know that Tony’s right and wrong all the same. There is nothing she can do to prevent him from spiraling into self-destruction because there’s nobody left in the world with the power to stop him.
Tony’s face goes pale as he swallows, once, twice. He can usually hold his liquor until next morning’s hangover, but today’s not usual, today’s the third anniversary of his parents’ death and Pepper doesn’t believe in excuses, doesn’t believe in exceptions, but she’s always had different standards when it comes to Tony Stark.
“Should we stop?” she asks when he emits a noise somewhere between a burp and a hiccup.
He nods, lips pressed tightly together. When Happy pulls over to the sidewalk, Tony slumps forward against the door, a shudder running through his body.
Pepper doesn’t follow when he stumbles out of the car, supports himself against a light post, and is violently ill onto the pavement. She doesn’t pat his back or stroke his hair or mumble comforting words because that’s not how they do it. Instead, by the time he staggers back into the car, she has taken out tissues, a water bottle, and a packet of mints, and laid them out on the seat between them.
“You’re the best,” he croaks upon seeing the supplies, shaky fingers reaching for the water. “I love you, Miss Potts, ‘d I ever tell you that?”
It is beyond her how he can still try to appear charming with his eyes barely able to focus and vomit dribbling down his chin. It is even further beyond her why the corners of her mouth twist into a tiny smile when she replies.
“Sure, Tony. Now close the door and clean yourself up.”
He obeys, then fades out of reality with his head tilted back against the seat, his cheek lightly touching Pepper’s shoulder. She doesn’t move closer, but doesn’t back away either. Through the rearview mirror, she can feel Happy’s eyes on her.
Pepper is past exasperated, past sympathetic, but also past expecting anything else. It’s the life she leads, and she wouldn’t trade it for anything else. This is what she’s chosen, whom she’s chosen.
Dawn crawls up behind them just when they reach the coast. The ocean is quiet, holding its breath for the days to come. This night means nothing, Pepper thinks, and yet it means the whole world.