penistower | let's perform my favorite little scene ⋆

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let's perform my favorite little scene ⋆

Tony had gone through a rough patch following Ultron, but Pepper had been there with him for all of it like always. She was always so good to him, and he's trying to be more engaged and take cues; and not give her any more reason to worry. So when she comes to him in the lab, he whirls around immediately, focused entirely on her. Usually he would at least take a moment to finish up whatever he was working on, but he can't let things continue to degrade. He needs to be a part of their solution.

And when he catches the look on her face he's glad he got his head out of his ass in record time. "Pepper, what is it?" A second later it sinks in that something is wrong. He's popping up out of his seat and going to her without being asked, but what comes next is the last thing he could have possibly expected. Pregnant? It doesn't make sense. He floats away for a second before forcing himself back into the moment.

"Are you sure?" he asks, then grimaces, realizing it was dumb. He shakes his head as if he could etch-a-sketch what he just said. Of course she is or she wouldn't come to him with this. He reaches out for her arms, uncertain but knowing they should be close for this. He can't be a father, he's going to let her down. She already takes care of him, won't this just be twice as much on her plate? Breathing in shallowly through his nose, he rubs his thumbs against her elbows and tries not to look absolutely terrified.

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"I could eat," he admits, more because he can't remember when he last ate. He probably has to start keeping better track of this stuff going forward. He has to take better care of himself overall, though his sleep has finally begun to improve since everything went down. "What do you want? Let me get this one."

She hopes this will be a push toward Tony keeping a better track of his own eating and sleeping as well, but she's not expecting major strides just yet. Luckily they had seven months to go.

"Yeah? Think you could handle eggs?" she teases as they start to ascend the stairs. She actually does feel like scrambled eggs, though she's expecting to make them herself if she wants it to be edible. She will forever remember that omelette, let's not kid here.

"Oh, I can do better than handle them." That sounded weird, but he lets it roll off. "...Maybe you could walk me through it this time." That's right, he hasn't even tried since that time on the plane, but he has to start stepping up in his estimation. He doesn't want her stressed out while she's pregnant he's pretty sure he read somewhere that that's bad.

She looks at him just to arch a brow at him, seeming more satisfied with his follow-up comment. "I think that can be arranged, this once." Smiling, she takes over as they enter the kitchen, getting the eggs and butter while she dispatches Tony to get out the frying pan.

"We should start thinking about the company, Tony," she remarks more seriously, setting the things on the kitchen counter. She knows this isn't Tony's favorite subject, but it will become pressing well before the baby will be born. It would be irresponsible not to start thinking on it. "Specifically, who'll take over for me while I'm on maternity leave."

She's right, he doesn't like talking about it. He immediately wants to protest when she starts getting everything without him, but then he realizes he wouldn't know what to get and hangs back just out of her bubble, leaning on the opposite counter.

"Won't I just do it?" He doesn't sound happy about it, but what other option did they have? Neither of them are all that easy to trust, and it's not like they don't have good reason. Obadiah, Killian, Maria... Tony sighs, waiting for her cue to step in.

Pepper cracks the eggs into a bowl, adds some salt and hands the bowl over with a whisk, indicating he should whisk them lightly together.

"I guess," she relents at length, sighing through her nose. She's no keener than Tony is on bringing a stranger into the mix, and as capable as their boardmembers are, she doesn't trust any of them so completely as to nominate them for the task. "I just hate putting it on you. And you hate dealing with the minutia of running things-- not that I won't help you where I can, but still."

Because let's be honest, Pepper will not be able to step back from the job completely. A lot could be managed with a laptop and a cell phone.

He would protest if he knew that's where her thoughts were headed, but it just makes in sink in even further. He has to step up. Tony whisks the eggs with a frown on his face, going well beyond the necessary effort.

"You're not putting anything on me. I'm going to do whatever you need me to do." Even if he doesn't like it.

"Well, I can still feel badly about needing you to do things you don't want to," she points out, reaching out to touch her fingers to his hand in order to still the intent whisking. That's enough, bae.

That wasn't normally an issue. She had no problem telling him to stop whining and get his ass into some meeting or another, but the CEO gig was admittedly better suited for her; and she really liked their current division of labor when it came to the company.

He stops as though he hadn't noticed he was close to sloshing them right out of the bowl. Tony gently sets it down on the counter and puts his hands on his hips -- feeling like it should be obvious what comes next but he's mystified.

"Don't feel bad, we're going to figure this out." Even if it seemed damn near impossible at the moment, not unlike making eggs.

Pepper isn't entirely sure whether he means the work thing or the pregnancy as a whole, but her answer applies to both. "We always do, don't we," she says with a small smile. It wouldn't be easy, but they have a habit of eventually sorting everything out somehow. Grabbing the bowl, she beckons him over to the stove with a nod and orders lightly, "Now come here and learn how to make scramble."

He nods in response to both things, moving to stand by her and paying closer attention to cooking than he ever had. He's a genius and a scientist, this should be a simple equation for him. "I'm here." Both mentally and physically, he means, since that could often be in question.

She gives him a small but earnest smile, deciphering his meaning. She adds some butter in the pan and after it melts, pours in the eggs carefully. "Low heat. They'll cook too quickly for scramble otherwise." She stirs the mixture occasionally with a wooden spoon, staying quiet for a moment.

"We should probably keep this to ourselves for the time being," she says quietly. "I mean, outside the select people we trust. We can't hide it forever, obviously." Wetting her lips nervously, she digs for the scant pieces of information she has about pregnancies in general. "But I think the chance for a miscarriage goes down after three months."

He's no good at keeping secrets, maybe, but he also hasn't been all that social lately. It seems reasonable until she gets to the last part, biting his lip against an unwelcome reaction. Pay attention to the eggs, he's reminding himself, swallowing past a dry patch in his throat. "Miscarriage?" His voice sounds tinny and small. Though he didn't even know this child existed until about five minutes ago, now the prospect of losing it is almost too much to bear. That's not going to happen to his kid, he won't even entertain the possibility.

Biting her own lip, Pepper nods wordlessly as she keeps stirring the eggs, the mixture slowly firming up. The thought is equally as abhorrent to her -- she can hardly believe how protective she already feels towards the tiny life growing inside her; this must be the famous maternal instinct, she thinks -- but it's a fact that cannot be ignored; there's always a chance, no matter how small.

The eggs finally taking on the consistency of scramble, she turns off the heat. "Done." She's not sure Tony remembers anything of this later, though, considering the conversation they're having is more than distracting.

"...Maybe I should try now, while it's still fresh." He points to his head and narrows his eyes. The only way to really solidify a lesson with him is to do it himself before the directives disappear. He gestures for her to move over so he can take the helm.

"Okay," Pepper agrees easily enough with a tiny smile, backing down a few steps. It makes sense. "Mind if I eat these while you do?"

She's already getting herself a plate from the nearby cabinet. Hey, he'll need the pan empty and all before making a new batch.

"By all means," he insists, knowing she was teasing him anyway. Tony steps forward and tries to put the steps in order in his head, worrying his lip as he doubtlessly overthinks it. Once she frees up the pan, he puts two more eggs into the mixing bowl and starts whisking them gently with a frown on his face. "Did you put milk in here once or did I imagine that?"

"Sometimes," Pepper confirms with a slight nod as she takes a seat. "You can put some in if you want. I usually add milk if I'm making an omelet, but skip it with scrambled. No reason, really, it's just a... thing."

She thinks that probably didn't clarify the matter any for him as she takes a bite of eggs, chewing happily. She really was peckish.

It didn't. Cooking baffles him so much because there are no set rules. Not that he ever follows rules to begin with, but you know. "Okay," he says with a frown, looking to her for guidance as he goes to dump the eggs into the still hot pan.

She gives him an encouraging smile, though it twitches a little in fond amusement; she can see how flummoxed he is by this. It's still so funny to her that someone so brilliant can have no clue when it comes to cooking.

Nibbling on her own eggs, she reminds him before he can toss the eggs into the pan, "Add a bit of butter in the pan first. When it's melted, pour in the eggs and then just stir the eggs with the wooden spoon in slow circles until they start to take the right shape."

"Butter, right." He moves to comply, setting the bowl down while he melts some butter then tries again. Here goes nothing, right? He lets out a breath, feeling strangely nervous all of the sudden. What if he screws it up? It never filters down that they're just eggs -- it's okay if they're not perfect. He remembers a full second later to pick up the wooden spoon as he forces a smile over his shoulder at her. "Can I put some cheese in mine?" It's not permission so much as help me please, but yeah it comes out funny and he knows it.

Luckily she's fluent in Tony Stark after all these years, interpreting him with ease. She knows he's nervous; but she also knows that deep down this isn't really about the eggs. She has to wonder if Tony himself realizes that, though.

"Sure," she says easily, polishing off the last of her scramble. Slipping out of her seat, she gets out the bag of grated cheese for him, coming to stand next to him. "Though in that case you might want to make this into an omelet. Otherwise the cheese melts all over the pan and makes a bit of a mess." Quirking a smile, she runs one hand down his back affectionately. "Or you can take that risk and deal with washing the pan after."

"You know me," he's saying as he takes the bag. "I like to live on the edge." He dumps some cheese into the pan after the eggs, frowning at the mixture. This is the moment of truth.

"That's certainly so." Welp. The eggs aren't yet entirely set thanks to the low heat, so at least the cheese melts nicely into it. Stirring it further might be a little challenging with the melty cheese, but the result doesn't look too bad. Thankfully. Pepper's not sure what parallels Tony might have drawn from that.

"Give it a little stir if you can," she says, motioning with a finger. "It smells good," she realizes after a moment, which takes her aback a little because cheese and eggs don't really smell like much, normally. Odd.

He gives her a strange look, but doesn't comment on it, doing his best to move the eggs around the pan. They seem to be firming up and generally looking better than he expected them to. "What do you think?" He carefully tips the pan a little so she can see into it better, lifting one eyebrow.

"I think that you could get the hang of this cooking thing yet," she smiles, leaning in to peck his cheek lightly. "Give them just a little longer and they're done. You can turn off the heat already."

Tony smiles at the kiss, switching the stove off before moving around her to grab some bread. He wants toast now. "Thanks for the lesson," he says while he slots some gluten-free nonsense into the toaster. "If you teach me now I'll be primed and ready for all your whims." That came out a little racier than he'd meant it but he's not sweating it.

"You're very welcome." She chuckles and raises a brow at the (unintentional) double-entendre, getting out some juice and yogurt from the fridge. "Careful. I'll be awash in pregnancy hormones soon enough; I might take that offer very literally one of these days."

Some pregnant women had a spike in their libido, right? She's pretty sure that could be a thing.

He gets down a plate and leans back against the counter, unable to keep his smile from growing into something more mischievous. "I live on the edge, remember? Careful isn't in my vocabulary."

"You just remember that, later," she counters with a smirk, fond and playful in equal measures as she takes out glasses for them before seating herself again. "Your eggs are probably done."

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let's perform my favorite little scene ⋆

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