voice test } and everything is blue for him.

[propulsion]

Here's a secret. The secret is: nothing ends. Everything limps along, progresses, spins forward. Happy endings don't happen unless happiness is oblivion, and the lesser things that crawl this spinning rock are not entitled to that particular kind of swallowing conclusion. Things don't just solve themselves, either. Thoughts of this still come with symptoms: short of breath, dizziness, claustrophobia. Panic. Sleepless nights, an empty space next to Pepper Potts, like now.

But see also Exhibit B: Pepper Potts. Running hot. She can't ever just die (ever get hurt) so long as she's like this. Now if only Rhodey could inject himself with something or irradiate himself in such a way as to make himself indestructible, Tony will have a complete set.

Except for him.

"When did he send this?"

Workshop. The machines are quiet, but the computers are on. Projections float glassily in the air, glowing and bright, sensitive to his motions, seemingly his touch. It's ass o'clock in the morning, of course.

"Dr. Banner sent this through to your private server three and a half hours ago, sir."

"You were supposed to wake me."

"Ms. Potts asked that I allow you to sleep, as it's an infrequent enough--"

"Whatever. You are now less useful than an alarm clock, congratulations. Draw up his iterations, where I can see 'em. Please also start the expresso machine."

A bare heel touches the ground, spinning Tony's chair as he drags equations into his line of sight. His arc reactor glows a beacon through the fabric of a Pink Floyd t-shirt, inchoate bristle growing sparse between the harsher lines of shaven goatee. There are shadows around his eyes, but this is the norm.

Comments

[propulsion]

"Yeah? That so?"

This other piece of paper sounds highly suspect, is what Tony's own eyebrows are communicating. His nose wrankles at her insistence, scrubbing the side of his face with the flat of his palm. How is it possible that they are meant to sleep, when she dreams of bright white heat, and him of the endless dark of cold space? It sounds combustible, sounds-- like chemical reaction, something collapsing, not a balance, too extreme. Not that Tony is aware she dreams.

Nor that this could be fixed with him sleeping elsewhere. But he still isn't sure if sleeping is a fun idea right now. "I definitely prefer to poke your delicate system in better contexts," he can concede, showing his palms. "I'll come back to bed. In a bit. Just need to read a thing."

[bossfought]

Pepper estimates how long 'in a bit' might be in conjunction with 'reading a thing' and says, “Me and my delicate system are gonna get a drink,” since apparently neither of them are really sleeping tonight, and the argument and/or scolding she was looking to have has really lost its momentum in the face of it being her potentially traitorous body reduced to molecules and mathematics.

And then, lifted hands, surrender- “Not coffee.”

[propulsion]

"Okay, cool."

Surrender gets a half-smile, sharp and quick, Tony then turning back to his hovered computer projections and taking a half step enough to sit down and wheel towards some panelling. "Get me one too," he adds, mostly upon picking up his coffee mug and realising he's already finished it. 'A thing' appears to be Banner's notes, which he doesn't draw up for open display. To say that it's because he wouldn't want Pepper to read it is giving him more credit than he's displayed so far.