Work Text:
Tony had been working in the lab all day. Two days? Three? A week? He wasn’t really sure. He’d gotten lost in the ever present panic, the tightness in his chest that just wouldn’t let go, the all consuming need to protect. He was no longer Tony, but a coffee, self-loathing fueled sentinel whose sole purpose had become to protect the ones he loved.
He couldn’t stop it.
Then the one who could walked into the house.
Tony had tried to pretend he was okay. He tried so hard to not let it show how broken he was because then she would leave. She would see he was even more of a mess than he had been when they’d gotten together, and she would decide it was too much and walk away. Again.
So he’d done what he always did: he hid.
His newest model suit could be controlled by his brain, connected to his thoughts, but he should’ve known that his brain was no match for Pepper’s. She saw right through the suit he’d sent to distract her so he could work on more suits in his lab and hide the fact that his only thoughts now were protect protect protect .
She forced the words out of him. As she turned to walk away, frustration evident in the firm click of her heels on the stairs, the air left Tony’s lungs and he realized he needed her. She was the only one who could release some of the pressure, the noise in his brain. He needed her to stay.
“I admit it. My fault.” Everything was his fault, wasn’t it? “Im sorry. I'm a piping hot mess.” He was desperate for her to turn around, for her to just look at him. The words came out in a rush. “It's been going on for a while. I haven't said anything. Nothing's been the same since New York.”
Pepper turned, and he was able to suck in a breath. “Oh, really? I didn't notice that at all,” she said, voice thick with sarcasm.
A dam had broken, and suddenly Tony realized he couldn’t hold back the words anymore. Finally freed, they flowed out of him, rushing and colliding with one another and he forced himself to channel them into coherent sentences.
“You experience things… and then they're over, and you still can't explain them. Gods, aliens, other dimensions. I'm just a man in a can. The only reason I haven't cracked up is probably because you moved in. Which is great. I love you. I'm lucky. But honey,” he gasped, ”I can't sleep. You go to bed, I come down here. I do what I know. I tinker. I... Threat is imminent. And I have to protect the one thing that I can't live without.” He looked at her, pleading with her to understand. “That's you. And my suits, they’re, uh-”
”Machines,” Pepper interrupted, gently.
“They’re part of me.”
“They’re a distraction.”
For a moment they stood there, her expression unreadable and his the most honest it had been in months. Then she slowly moved closer, her beautiful white suit striking against her red hair and he couldn’t help but think how lucky he was to have her. And as she wrapped her arms around him, his face falling into her collarbone, he realized that thought wasn’t overshadowed immediately by a knot in his stomach and a trembling in his arms like it had been lately. A miracle.
She kissed his forehead and then, “I’m going to take a shower.”
He blinked, leaning back against the cool tool bench in surprise. “Okay.”
“And you’re gonna join me.”
“Better,” he said, and followed her eagerly to their room.
But, actually, nothing happened. Tony was so exhausted by the day (days? weeks?) he’d spent in the lab that the minute the warm water hit him, he began to lose the fight against his eyelids. The tension in his shoulders washed down the drain with the shower droplets, and Pepper ended up having to wash the shampoo out of his hair for him as he leaned heavily against her.
Bundled in his comfiest pajamas (which Pepper brought to him) Tony started to curl up under the covers. However, the minute he touched the sheets, his body tensed. He knew what happened when he slept. Nightmares. Falling. Death. Death of his loved ones, not his own. Never his own. He was never so lucky.
He had to get down to the lab. Had to build another suit to protect, protect, protect.
As he shot up in bed, hands, tough and gentle, gripped his shoulders and pushed him back down.
“No you don’t.”
Tony looked up and allowed Pepper to overwhelm his senses. Her voice, her polka dot pajamas, the smell of her lavender shampoo. He breathed in, breathed out.
“We’re okay, Tony. We’re gonna be okay.” She released his shoulders to climb into bed, and they situated themselves so that she was curled up next to him, her chest against his back. She threw an arm over him protectively, kissing his shoulder.
Then she did something that surprised him (would this woman ever not be remarkable?): she sang.
Tony didn’t know how she learned the song. He didn’t really care. The minute she started singing, tears wet his eyes. It was the song his mother used to sing to him. He let out a sigh, and closed his eyes, the fear of sleeping finally loosening enough to let him rest as the love of his girlfriend and the love he’d once felt from his mother surrounded him.
And Pepper continued to sing.
Ninna nanna, ninna oh
Questo bimbo a chi lo dò ?
Se lo dò alla Befana,
Se lo tiene una settimana.
Se lo dò all'uomo nero,
Se lo tiene un anno intero.
Ninna nanna, ninna oh,
Questo bimbo me lo terrò!
He was asleep halfway through. Pepper kissed his hair, and prayed that for his sake he would sleep through the night.