"Tony, something's glowing," Pepper said. "I worry when things glow."
Tony made a 'pshaw' noise like it was his ringtone. There wasn't much that could get him to pay extended attention to a monitor—except caffeine, and that was a factor too—but right now, he was engrossed in the scans he was getting. "Relax, Pep. Just a tiny little Infinity Stone."
"Infinity Stone." Pepper stared at the glowing object that had become the centerpiece of Tony's lab, muffled as it was by transparent shielding and diagnostic equipment. "Like the Tesseract. Or Loki's Scepter."
"Or the Aether," Tony said. "Thor found that one."
"So, one of the things that glows and helps bad guys try to destroy the world, then."
"
That,"
Tony snapped his fingers, "is actually exactly what we're all about today. I'm gonna need that ham sandwich."
Pepper looked to Tony's left, seeing a sandwich planted out of his reach. With a long-suffering sigh she went to him, licked the sandwich, then pushed it into his range. Without looking, he scooped it up and took a bite. Then talked with his mouth full.
"This is a new one, got it from Ant-Man—" Tony paused to give a little shake. "
Ant-Man.
So random."
"Very random, Tony," Pepper agreed.
"I don't know what it does, but I think I can deactivate it."
"How?"
"You know—protons, electrons... spinning things, bright lights, the usual. And if I
can
render it inert, then I can do the same for the rest of them, and we can stop worrying about Loki or any of his fuckwit friends stealing them from SHIELD or Asgard or whoever, starting a big to-do, all that nonsense. I'm being proactive."
"So you don't know what it does and you're going to try to turn it off?"
"Yeah." Tony finished his sandwich. "
Relax.
I've already double-checked my work, which is twice as much checking as it needs."
"Uh-huh." Pepper was backing away. "I suppose you've consulted with Bruce about this? Or Jane? Selvig? Anyone?"
"Okay, Bruce? I love him, but he turns into the Jolly Green Giant when he spills coffee on himself. Jane got an ancient artifact lodged in her rib cage and nearly destroyed the world. Selvig, also, helped nearly destroy the world. I, on the other hand, have built a couple dozen superhero suits—Selvig has
none
—I own a Fortune 500 company, I've reenacted Wild Things with Denise Richards and Neve Campbell, and when I bid on something on eBay, they just give it to me. If anyone should have the final say on doomsday weapons, it should be me."
"
Uh-huh,"
Pepper repeated. "I need to go to the grocery store. If I take my nana's ashes with me, it's not because I don't trust you—"
"Hey, fine by me, I told you you should put that stuff in a security deposit box if it means so much to you."
"
She was my nan."
"And she'll still be your nan in a vault with six inch walls."
The door slammed shut behind Pepper.
Finishing his sandwich, Tony fired up the machine. Was he sure about it? Sure he was sure. Talking with Pepper had convinced him that the risks were far worth the reward: being able to throw this in Pepper's face whenever, wherever. And after all...
"What's the worst that could happen?"
***
One mystical explosion later...
"Shit," Tony said, sitting up, "maybe I should triple-check my work."
When it involves cosmic forces beyond all mortal understanding, yes,
came a persistent voice in his head, which sounded unduly like Pepper.
He looked around. Looked like he was in the middle of an episode of Cosmos, standing on apparently nothing, with stars and nebula surrounding him at a millionth of their real size. There was a sun on his right the size of a basketball, planets orbiting it as big as marbles.
Then Tony heard something growling. He turned around, ready to eye some alien dictator, and instead saw a very ordinary—which is to say, very
big