[for Pepper] carry that weight

[daretodo]

"Forty-eight... Forty-nine... Fifty... Fifty-one," I count steadily under my breath, a push-up accompanying each number. This isn't something I'd have to do at home, my patrols of the city enough to keep me in shape without even trying, but I can't say the same for here. My sessions with Cap are ramping up -- not to mention a heckuva lot more challenging than I'd ever let on -- but he told me on the very first day that I can do the sit-ups and push-ups on my own time. If improving my balance is his initial focus, then strengthening my core seems like one of the brighter ideas I've had lately.

"Fifty-two... Fifty-three... Fifty-four... Fifty-five..."

I'm out on the terrace, wanting the fresh air from having been cooped in the workshop for the better part of the morning, and not having gotten very far in much of anything. It's easier to think when I'm not trying, sometimes, when I can get lost in something physical. I'm not a computer. I can't work in a vacuum, and hope to pull an answer to an impossible question out of nowhere. So I take my distractions where I can get them, push myself in a more productive way than enforced insomnia, and hope to draw my attention away from the constant gnawing pain that Mary Jane's left in her absence, at least for a little while.

"Fifty-six... Fifty-seven... Fifty-eight... Fifty-nine... Sixty..."

Comments

[wildlyconflicted]

Living with someone is not a guarantee that you'll spend much time speaking to them. This Pepper had already been familiar with by way of giving Tony the cold shoulder in the past, and she'd known to expect it with Peter. Never had she deluded herself into thinking that he'd move into the house and everything would be okay, but it surprised her how much the emotional distance bothered her, having not anticipated the effect of having it made so obvious on a daily basis.

The part of her that wanted to leave well enough alone was constantly warring with the part of her that cared too much to do so, creating a sort of tentative conscientiousness with which she approached her new house guest. She took care to afford Peter opportunities to reach out, but didn't count on their earning anything for her trouble.

"I've just made coffee, if you want some," she said from the terrace doorway, manicured fingers poised on the knob.