4235/Rain and Memories

Rain and Memories
Date of Scene:	28 November 2020
Location:	Stark Tower: Penthouse
Synopsis:	Drinking, memories, and holidays... quite a mix.
Cast of Characters:	Tony Stark, Pepper Potts

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Tony Stark has posed:
The sounds almost came out of nowhere, a strange rush of impacts soft and urgent on the broad skylights that run along the edge of the long living room adjacent to the balcony of the penthouse of Stark Tower. The rain is intensifying, a strong rush of the elements outside.

Inside, though, the place is warm and secure, with a soft hum of technology that almost has the sense of an aquarium. Yet it is inside that is dry, and the outside is full of the intensity of water.

Still, there are other liquids inside. The lights are turned somewhat down, reflections of golden yellow light and milder daylight tones on surfaces where Tony is occupying the space. He's not on the couch, but on the smaller deep, comfortable chair that matches the long modern couches. He's slid down in it somewhat, one hand pressed to his cheek and nose bridge, a few fingers curled there under an eye, against eyebrow.

The other hand is settled by a mostly emptied glass, and the other evidence of a series of glasses that may have happened before. He has his wireless headset on, the broad larger set that entirely cover his ears with perfect noise canceling, and has his eyes shut. He's in some other world, listening to whatever is in those earphones, with an expression that's both quietly haunted and also oddly mournful. He doesn't open his eyes but takes another drink.

He's unaware of the raindrops pattering the skylight, or the dry comfort of the penthouse: his location may well be a colder place, wherever his mind currently rests - it isn't the present.

Pepper Potts has posed:
Ensconced in her office for the greater portion of the day, the rain beyond her window did nothing to lighten Pepper's mood. Last minute issues on this upgrade, on that rollout for the season is enough to aggravate even the calmest of souls. At least the grocery delivery came somewhat promptly, as proven by the small pile of paper bags in the corner by her large double wooden door.

Finally, the white flag is raised, and as an underscore to it all, Pepper slides her feet back into her heels and pulls her hair down from the bun that was wrapped at the base of her neck. Rising from her desk, she makes her cross towards the doors, sidetracking enough to lift the bags to bring them with her. She'll check them later.

"Homer, you can shut my office down for the night. Thank you."

The AI doesn't have to respond; Pepper knows he heard as he begins to comply with the request, the darkening of her office makes the rain beyond even more obvious.

The door to the penthouse opens to the redhead, and in now common practice, Pepper's heels come off at the entrance before the door is closed behind her. In hand, her bags of groceries.

The expanse of room feels warm, but there's something in the air, and while Pepper isn't a psychic, she is intuitive; able to feel a room, particularly when Tony is present. He //is// the room, with the energy he exudes. To her, without him, there's empty space.

It's not hard to locate him, the quiet, muted lighting gives him away as he sits in the more 'living space' of the palatial penthouse. There, he's alone with his thoughts, and from the quick 'read', Pepper's breath slowly leaves, and her expression exudes both love and concern; her go to. But this time, there are the glasses there which sends up flags that hadn't been flying in a little while.

First item of business, however, are the groceries, and she pads across the room to set them in the kitchen area, quickly just putting the things that require refrigeration away before she's ready to attend that which is more important to her at this moment- Tony. Her suit jacket is slid out of, and on her cross over to the seating area, she lays the jacket on the back of the couch before taking the step to the side to lean over the back of the chair to lightly drape over the form and figure of the seemingly introspective Tony. Her hands move to glide across the front of each shoulder as she leans, her red hair wisping against the side of his head as she presses a light kiss to a spot of skin not covered by those headphones.

"Hey," comes softly, with a ghosted smile, the care, concern and outright affection fighting for display on her features.

Tony Stark has posed:
Tony was not paying attention to anything this side of reality, and while he doesn't exactly startle, he does definitely react, much like someone would if awakened from slumber. "Hmmm?" Tony asks, overly loudly - due to his headphones. He draws his hand back to one to draw it backwards off his ear, and looks up and back at her from his position sitting there, to almost look at her upside-down from where she is positionally.

The headphone moved out of the way gives not music, but some other voice on the headset, as if he were listening to some sort of book on tape, or something like that. Tony tries to sort of throw himself back together, and an immediate showy smile is flung to the surface. It's not very successful, mostly due to the alcohol in him. There's a strong scent of it on him, even if it isn't visually apparent by his reaction time and the loose way he drops his head back towards her.

"You said something, didn't you," Tony assumes, and hauls the headset fully off to around his neck. "One more time?" he requests, trying to orient and respond to her more properly, and bury whatever was going on.

Tony does bring up his other hand, off of the glass, and sets the palm loosely over one of her wrists. In a subconscious way, even, selecting her over the booze. For the moment, anyway.

Pepper Potts has posed:
She can feel the tensing of his muscles on the muted startle, and her nose wrinkles with the strong scent of alcohol on him. It's not a cologne he's used for a little bit, and for him to drink alone? Alone with his thoughts?

"Nothing really," Pepper shakes her head just enough to shift her hair, but now that she's got his attention? She navigates around the chair in order to find a place where she can fit in order to talk to him just a little more. It's a large enough chair, and if she ends up half on him, that's fine. The smile has given way to something a touch more considering, concerning, echoed easily in those green eyes of hers.

"Are you okay?" Those three words are the ones spoken more often in this household, carrying every single nuanced meaning they can. It's not always a one-sided inquiry; Tony does ask her the same, but the scales are sort of tipped in his direction. She gestures towards the empties before him, and studies his face as if something written there can give her a clue as to what is going on inside that head of his; that handsome and sometimes haunted head of his.

It is the holidays, though.. maybe that? But they've spent holidays before, though on occasion, the Baja house was filled with party-goers. 'Tis the season. Is it that? Is he missing that, what with his upgrade?

The rain beyond does give the room a certain ambience, certainly. Where it could be romantic, it seems wistful in the dim lighting. It is warm and dry within, the familiar thrum comforting in its familiarity.

Tony Stark has posed:
"What? Always," Tony says, automatically, to that question. It's very steeped in Tony's tendency to dodge actual 'feels', particularly when he's got a significant amount of booze in him. He turns his head towards her, with a somewhat aggressive nuzzle of face into her shoulder, and a deep chuckle.

"Well, maybe seventy-five percent," Tony admits. His eyes go for the drink first, but then back to her: His dark eyes slant up and over her face, and with a grunted huff of breath, he pauses, and lifts both hands to pull the headset from his neck, flip it around, and slip it upwards to let her partake of his audio.

Tony settles back in the chair, resting his head backwards into the upper cushion of it, and sort of observes what she makes of it, though his expression isn't clouded. It's more a sort of pensive tiredness. He did open up, though she may need to deduce what on earth she's listening to, to get exactly why.

It sounds like a commercial at first; somebody chattering about the virtues of some sort of engine upgrade. It might not even make sense. Then there's some other voices, some laughing, and a chiding comment that Mr. Stark is being silly.

It's an audio recording involving Howard Stark, is what it is. Tony rests his cheek on raised fist then, observant of her; he doesn't explain yet - she probably can't hear him with the headset on anyway, so he waits.

Pepper Potts has posed:
In an easily anticipated response, Pepper makes a face as Tony sets his to the 'usual', that is 'what could possibly be wrong' facade. Some on the outside might see it as 'disapproving' but what it actually is is her waiting for the //real// answer. It isn't often seen beyond the pair, almost never really, so when it lights? "Mmmhmm," though she won't go any further with the admission. He's told her enough, and now, he's showing her.

She's in the shared seat now, and as Tony moves to lean on her, that aggressive lean with nuzzle into her shoulder, she's maneuvering and righting the headset so she can set it over her head and ears properly. An arm instinctively goes around Tony's neck, fingers there running through the short dark hair. The smell of alcohol is a familiar one, sadly, and it's not enough, almost has never been enough to turn her away.

As he sits up again, Pepper's hand moves from around him in the brief cuddle to his hand; an idle move as she works out what it is she's hearing in surround sound. Green eyes are on his dark, clear ones, and her head cants at the voices. Not music, but..

The seconds tick by for Pepper as that dawning realization hits her as to what it is she hears; the sounds of the past. Tony's past. It's not something he's really //ever// opened up to, nothing he's ever really mentioned. Obviously she knows exactly who Howard Stark is; can't work at SI as long as she has without it. She well knows the history of the place, and Howard Stark's name is rarely mentioned.

It helps protect the soul.

"Oh, Tony," is breathed automatically, and what is probably a percentage of Tony's pain is reflected in Pepper's eyes, her face. It's not pity, no. That's never played there. It's a need to help salve the wound left there because he's hurt. There's the reason for the alcohol. And, undoubtedly, those wild parties of the past.

Pepper pulls the headset off, and shifts so she can set it down on the table, the *clinks* of the glasses sounding as she moves them out of the way. What can she say in the face of this? 'I'm sorry' doesn't really cut it. What might help, however?

Reaching out to him, Pepper ducks her head to look at his squarely, her gaze searching to meet his. He's been her life for so many years that, as far as she's concerned, he's all she has. While true, it's not completely true; she still has her parents in Connecticut, living out their days in peace.

"I'm not going anywhere, you know." It's said softly, definitively, and even if her presence here, with him, is taken for granted, it's a statement of truth. She's stayed by his side through.. a great deal, and here she'll remain. "We can leave New York for the holidays. Go to California." Not be surrounded by memories, though he has those issues still with Avengers Mansion. His childhood home. "I can call now and have the plane ready in the morning."

Tony Stark has posed:
"There's no reason to //go// anywhere," Tony observes, with a sort of thoughtful confusion that's coming out of the drunk quality more than other things, perhaps. Besides: in a way, he HAS gone somewhere. He went into a bottle, didn't he?

"You should've /seen/ some of the holiday parties my father put on. Considering the lack of tech back then, really impressive. Legendary, they said," Tony continues, as if that thought linked to the next one, at least for him, in some way. No doubt that 'legacy', so common with Tony, was fueled out of that. Meeting that mark. That ephemeral approval of the father.

"I didn't see any of them, really, until I was older. Mostly it just meant he was even /more/ busy during the holiday time. So holidays didn't really mean 'family' around here, at least not to him. My mother, though, yes."

Tony's not directly sad: that isn't the emotion he's displaying. There's a sense of flippant dismay, as if downplaying things could push the feelings away from his heart a little more. Not that it works.

"There's this big empty hole, when it comes to family, around here." Just a statement. A deeper awareness, some clue in it that Tony does have the ability to cast that razor-sharp eye inward, sometimes. Just it sometimes comes with a darkness, and booze.

"Filling that hole up," Tony laughs, then, with a lift of his glass. It's cocky, snarky, but his dark eyes land in the drink, and then slide sideways and away as he has some of it, unwilling to resist the comfort in that glass.

Pepper Potts has posed:
When Tony begins to talk, Pepper is more than willing to listen- particularly when it's more 'stream of consciousness' than conversational. It's the natural byproduct of introspection. She hasn't relinquished her spot right beside him on the chair, a cosy fit for two, and she's giving him her full attention.

There's a soft 'mmmm', coupled with a hint of a smile at the recollection, the sound almost one of relived wonderment. She can just imagine how absolutely festive the Mansion must have been, that, their residence. It's not hard to visualize the decorations, the endless parade of visitors and guests moving through, party after party.

As it continues, though, Pepper catches the tone and her hand reaches for his to rest the entwined fingers on her thigh, her head moving to lean on his shoulder, resting there. The rest of it? It saddens her a little; maybe it was a little conceit on her part that she could help be that salve that brings him through the holidays. Maybe things would be better, if not a little different, than years past.

"How about," Pepper is ready to waylay that glass, leaning forward to take it once he's had his swallow, "we do something for ourselves? I think we could do with starting some new traditions? Something that is you.. and me?" She gestures to the alcohol and finishes with, "I am pretty sure you don't want to go through the holidays with that."

Tony Stark has posed:
"Enjoying a lot of drinks throughout the holidays IS a tradition of many years, you know that," Tony slyly answers, giving her a narrowed look when she tries to waylay it. He's drunk now, which means it'll be harder to pry such a thing out of his hand. It's far easier to do before he gets really rolling. Now he's already on that path.

So while Tony does, in fact, finish his drink, his expression turns into a reserved one, and he lets her have the emptied glass. It is similar to someone accepting that they may not get more drinks, so he's going to at least finish his last one with some pleasure. An old friend that may or may not be around as much during the holidays? To be seen, really; he may slip very quickly and easily again. But alcohol is one of his weak points: that mechanism to get through.

If Pepper is to be a salve, it will probably need to be a series of mendings, as there are a great many wounds that have previously simply been blurred and avoided before. Dealing with those pieces and healing them is far more healthy - but a lot harder than just drowning it all into unconsciousness.

"Alright, what's your proposal for a new 'us' tradition?" Tony asks. "Or do you need a day or two to put together a powerpoint?" Cheeky. He pokes her leg with a finger, one of the fingers linked with hers where she's set them against her leg. He shifts more, an adjustment of body, to suit their shared position in the chair better.

Pepper Potts has posed:
It's that coping mechanism that is rearing its head that scares her the most. While she doesn't mind drinking per se, drinking alone to intoxication isn't something she's willing to have happen. Not if she can possibly hope to do something, anything, about. Old vices creeping into new moments, that is, their fledgling relationship, isn't a good thing. In fact, it does send her own thoughts on their own tangent, to be faced later in the darkness when all is quiet.

Soon enough will be her own Hour of the Wolf. That time between sleep and wakefulness when one lies and wonders about the path taken, and the path not taken.

Pepper knows all of this isn't easy; there's no clear and present path out of this spiraling mood. There's redirection, but that only works after a fashion.There's the shifting of topics, but again, temporary and does nothing to solve the underlying problems.

Brows rise at the pointedness, literal and figurative, of his inquiry, and her own eyes narrow in return. "First, I think we should actually decorate. I don't care what it is. The car, the house in California, the one in Abu Dhabi.. here.. and decide on a theme. Maybe have a room competition and have someone judge it.." Pepper's just thinking out loud. Offering up action as change; creating a new habit, a new tradition.

"I just really don't like it when you start drinking like that. You-you-you end up doing something you regret and feel like garbage afterwards." She's in earnest, offering up honest judgement on something that she feels is self-destructive. "If you don't like my idea, you tell me what you think we could do." It's a challenge set, seeing if he'll pick up on it.

Tony Stark has posed:
"Well, feeling like garbage is fixed by more drinks," Tony responds, still in his cheeky mood that often comes hand in hand with the drinks he's got in him. It's generally harmless, and he isn't fall-down drunk: he's very high functioning. She's caught him before he got to a point where he'd be laying on the floor or making truly terrible decisions like going out for target practice in the suit. Considering the levels of things, perhaps she already //is// a significant influence on what this could have been...

"Decorate, huh. Uhhh." Tony isn't so sure about that one. "Normally the mansion's where that stuff gets set up. There hasn't really been any point in doing it up here, and I'm not..." Tony wrinkles his nose, and sort of loosely gestures at the penthouse with a free hand. He's not really interested in decorations in his private space, not so big on holidays. Beyond an excuse to throw parties, anyway.

"But this was just my place before." And now it's shared. And he's adjusting. "A tree wouldn't be so bad. Maybe over there," Tony suggests, pointing across towards a zone where he's set up holograms in the past. Some furniture would need to move. But his sharp, creative mind is already grinding: the gears are turning, though more slowly in the drunken situation. "I could definitely do some killer lighting."

Pepper Potts has posed:
A soft, disagreeing 'hmmmf' sound exits the redhead at the very thought of remaining drunk in order to keep from suffering the effects of a hangover. Behind it, though, is the affection of that whom some people call a saint. More than affection, really.. and that's more shown than voiced at any given time. Of course, it could always be worse, and she's vaguely thankful that it's not. The bar is rising, however, and the better he acts, the more it's expected.

"Yes, decorate here," Pepper agrees softly, her gaze meeting his. "I think this would be the best place to do it. We spend most of our time here," not there, "and you could upload a new playlist onto Elvis so he'll play Christmas songs.."

It's those words that are spoken, however, that shifts that dialogue, bringing something of a light back to the woman's face. It appears in words that appear simply thrown out into the aether as if it was a solid truism.. 'was just my place before'.

And now?

"A tree would be nice. Somewhere I could put presents for you." It'd been a disappointment in years past; boring putting presents on desks. Her expression holds that glow of affectionate understanding that he is putting forth effort, slowly drawing himself from the morass of yet another melancholy holiday. "I can find wreathes and bunting for the stairs, throw pillows.." and lighting sounds grand.

"I'll make sure I have hot chocolate for you when it's all done." Unspiked.. maybe.

Tony Stark has posed:
"Let's not launch into a full Christmas Story here," Tony says, with a quick laugh and a whoa-whoa motion of hand when she starts suggesting wreaths and throw pillows. "You'll need to let me maintain my bachelor pad mystique a little bit longer, before we go that far."

Tony smirks, shaking his head, but it's relatively fond. Still, he's leaning to what he's comfortable with. "I've always rather put the budget for that stuff towards the toy drives and things. I don't need a nativity scene in my living room; I can keep the warm-fuzzies for the kids," Tony scoffs. While his tone is rejecting, the underlying message is perhaps a solid one: focusing on the generosity part of the season.

"/That/ is an idea though. Figure out something we could organize together like that. Now you're thinking." Or Tony is, since he came up with it. But he still reaches out to try to tap her forehead at the side, giving her a gentle, odd little look. "My mother would have liked that. For sure." An offhand comment, that also pulls his mood down, and his smile adjusts to a quieter, internal-facing one.

Pepper Potts has posed:
"You just want that lamp," Pepper smirks back, her green eyes glowing warmly. "For that bachelor look." She leans into Tony, her manner affectionate and comfortable. It's not a battle for space, or to get more of 'her stuff' into the Penthouse.

Brows do rise, but she's not really surprised. Pepper's been part of the toy drives over the years, and every year seemed to surpass the next. Or rather, she's helped Tony with the drives, and happily stood by his side while the kids tore into the wrapped presents. "Well, the budget is there," obviously, "and I wasn't thinking about a nativity scene. I was thinking trains under the tree." Still, she's more than happy with letting the kids have their holiday.

It's the warmth, the feeling of the season that gives Pepper the happy glow, and settling into him on that chair, the last few words, both heartfelt and melancholic brings her attention around. She nuzzles at his neck, a kiss placed where she can reach. "I'm sure your mother would be very proud of everything you're doing." Pepper sure is!

Tony Stark has posed:
"At least some of it, yes. I am pretty universally adored," Tony agrees, slyly playful, and moving just enough to jostle Pepper next to him a little bit, to tip her towards him a hair, as he draws an arm up to loop it around her shoulders. He gives a sudden, unexpected yawn, and moves his fingers along the edge of her shoulder and blouse there.

"All right, let's move this party out of here. Let's see about sleeping this off. Unless you wanted to join me for some drinks?" Tony asks. There's the slight lean that way, towards, well, that they COULD indeed have some fun if she wanted to enable him a little more. The temptation, and the drunken quality, are both still very present. But so is another yawn.

Pepper Potts has posed:
Pepper just //looks// at him, her head tilting up from her position, "Must be hard," she murmurs. She's teasing him again, but a little more gently. She can feel him growing a bit more tired, and she's more than happy to help put him to sleep.

Sliding out from around his arm, Pepper gets to her feet before she takes up the empties to put them in the sink before bed. "Let's move this party to the bedroom so you can get some sleep." There is absolutely temptation there, but not in the form of the warming liquid, and she's keeping her options wide open. "We'll start planning in the morning."

Tony Stark has posed:
"I mean, I'm planning now," Tony remarks offhandedly, distractedly, as he pushes himself to his feet. He's not all that unsteady, he's managing it - again, that high functioning that sometimes masks how much he's actually had. From those that aren't familiar with it, anyway, and in judgement of how deep under Tony's currently gone. It's pretty far, as it turns out. But there was, at least, a reason behind it...?

And Pepper is doing her part to throw a life preserver into the drowning-in-alcohol situation. "Multitasker and all that," Tony reminds.

"Start prepping, JARVIS," Tony tells the ceiling. Then a pause. "HOMER. Whoever. All of you know the deal." It happens, when drunk.

"Party in motion," Tony assures Pepper finally, rubbing a hand hard back through his hair, and proceeding towards the realm of what may or may not be sleep.

Pepper Potts has posed:
It's completely understandable as to why Tony had begun his foray back into the bottom of a top-shelf bottle, and Pepper has finally come to terms that it's not her fault, it's not her failing if he gets completely hammered alone, but for his robots. This time of year is difficult for many, and only a few could really realize and appreciate that Tony is not that different from others missing and mourning not just the loss of his parents, but all the potential that was there that was taken away. She understands, and like so many other crises he's had, she's there.. sometimes to pick up the pieces, but lately, to prevent that falling apart in the first place.

Reaching out a hand to offer some stability to a potential stagger and stumble (she knows his drinking habits and his limitations), Pepper only leaves him long enough to put the dishes in the sink. "Of course you are," she accedes. She's not just 'yessing' him either; she knows full well that a thought, a concept, an idea will find its way out in an hour, a day.. "Okay, Mr. Multitasker?" and she's by his side once more.

If HOMER is insulted by his own 'father' calling him JARVIS, he doesn't let on. Instead, he does simply respond, "Yes, sir.." before the lights begin to dim to dark as the pair make their way to the bedroom.