A/N: Wow reviews! Thanks! :^)

writingmonkey10 – I'm glad you're enjoying it! Thanks a million!

RevolutionChick – You write the best reviews, you know that? :^) I'm so sorry to hear that you were ill, but glad to know that this story helped get you through it! It's great to get so much feedback. I agree with you about Happy. It can't be all Tony/Pepper all the time (well... it *could* be but...)

xamyxisxsnazzyx – You're too funny! I agree with you about the movie though, they coulda added at least a little angst in there for us, couldn't they? (or maybe a decent amount of Tony/Pepper?) Glad you're enjoying the story!

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"Don't scratch it." Pepper chided.

"I scratch because it itches." replied Tony, mater-of-factly, as he continued to alternate between scratching and scrutinizing the rash that had appeared on his arm around the injection site. It didn't hurt at all, anymore, but it itched like crazy.

"I didn't ask why, Tony. I said don't." she retorted, humorlessly.

Pepper had carefully reviewed the instructions and documentation left by Doctor Nguyen. It said that pain and irritation around the injection site were to be expected. She decided not to tell Tony what else the literature had said about possible side-effects of his treatment.

At this point, she was just hoping that she and Happy wouldn't have to rush him to the emergency room. Or, worse, call for a helicopter to evacuate him from Malibu. Damn his stubbornness, she thought to herself, he always has to make everything more difficult than it needs to be. It was true, and she really didn't understand why. Was it a guy thing? Or could it be his massive-- and, she hated to admit, largely justified-- ego? She'd decided that it was probably both-- and what a horrible combination.

Shifting in bed to find a more comfortable position, Tony asked, "When's this supposed to start working?"

Without looking up, she replied, "Doctor said 30 minutes," she looked at her watch, "It's barely been ten. I'm going to get some coffee. Do you want anything? You should really try to eat before the treatment kicks in."

He grimaced, shaking his head, "Not really hungry right now, Peps."

"You haven't eaten in two days, Tony. I'll make you toast, and some juice. You've got to stay hydrated, the doctor said." she headed for the door, making her exit before he had time to object.

He rolled his eyes as soon as her back was turned, and started fidgeting with the coverlet on his bed. She was acting like his mother. The only good part about this whole situation, he'd decided, was that Pepper was taking care of him. In a sense she always took care of him-- but not like this. And she wasn't his assistant anymore, she was by his side because, well, because... she cares for me he finished the thought, smiling to himself. He'd already decided that he could get used to this arrangement-- having Pepper by his side, them taking care of one another.

She returned shortly, carrying a tray with lightly-buttered toast, orange juice, black coffee, and some cream. Unfolding the legs of the tray, she placed it over Tony's lap.

"Eat." she commanded gently, taking the coffee and cream back to her chair and placing them on the small table next to it.

He raised his eyebrows and gave her a small smile, "Why, thank you, Miss Potts..." he said, gingerly pushing himself into a sitting position, propped up by pillows. He picked up the toast and took a small bite, suddenly reminded of how famished he was, "I didn't know you could cook."

She shot him a withering glance, "Eat your toast."

"Yes ma'am," he replied, smirking.

Pepper pretended not to hear his snarky reply. She turned on her laptop and began checking email. She was still acting CEO of Stark Industries, and would remain so at least until Tony was well again. There were half a dozen media inquiries about the previous night's debacle at Stark Expo. And then there was the board to contend with. She'd have to address them before anyone else.

She'd dreaded checking her email for this very reason, knowing she'd have to submit a press release explaining what had happened, how Stark Industries hadn't been directly responsible for the incident, and what they were doing to prevent something like this from happening in the future regardless of whose fault it was.

And then there was the issue of what Tony Stark was up to. The media would almost certainly request his input. How's Tony? Oh, he's doing great. He almost died at the hands of Vanko's drones. Pushed himself to the point of exhaustion, and has spent the last several months suffering from severe palladium poisoning and trying to hide it, she thought to herself.

No, that part would definitely not be making it into the press release. If it did, the opposite effect would be achieved-- instead of leaving Tony in peace to recover, there would be helicopters buzzing over his house within fifteen minutes of the story breaking. That wouldn't help her, Stark Industries, or Tony. They would have to fabricate some other story to feed the press while Tony was recuperating. At least until he was well enough to speak publicly about the state of Stark Industries and Iron Man.

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Tony's condition started to deteriorate right around the one hour mark post-medication. He'd managed to eat both pieces of toast, but regretted it almost immediately. Trying to shake it off, he'd laid back down, closed his eyes, and regulated his breathing carefully. But he knew it was futile, he wasn't going to be able to keep anything down. And now his mouth tasted like metal.

Pepper hadn't noticed his distress until she heard the first of Tony's breakfast hit the bottom of the empty basin that she'd smartly kept within his reach. Looking up from her work, she saw his shoulders heave as he continued to be sick.

She was at his side in an instant, gently rubbing his back in small circles, "Oh, Tony..." she murmured. His body tensed under her hands as he heaved again, almost choking. He groaned, clutching the basin and grimacing at the bitter taste in his mouth. His broken ribs were screaming, and he hugged his torso with one arm as tears welled in his eyes. Sweat soaked through the back of his shirt.

His shoulders sagged as he leaned against her for support, struggling to catch his breath after the spell ended "Pep..." he slurred, all of the snark and bravado from earlier had fled.

She pressed a glass of water to his lips, "Drink," she said. He did so without protest, taking small, careful sips.

"Your fever's spiked again," Pepper pursed her lips as her hand moved from Tony's forehead to caress his cheek.

"Really?" he slurred, leaning into her touch, "Mmm... I can't tell."

She removed the breakfast tray and helped ease him back down onto the bed, "I hurt." he whined.

"I know," she empathized, "I'm sorry."

Every joint in his body felt arthritic, even the slightest motion set off a cascade of pain. He hadn't expected this, and Pepper practically read his mind with her next question: "Do you want to go to the hospital, Tony?"

"Do I?" he asked aloud, as though the decision weren't his to make, "Do I want... do I... no." he replied slowly.

Pepper frowned, but didn't try to argue. She wanted to promise him that it would be all right. That everything would be better soon. But she wasn't going to lie. Instead, she told him, "Try to get some rest."

"Trying," he muttered, massaging his temples.

Before Pepper thought to stop herself, she bent down and kissed his forehead.