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Four hours of sleep– that's all she managed before the relentless nightmares clawed their way back, refusing to release their grip.
That's gotta count for something, right?
For an ordinary person, perhaps that would count as something, but for someone who hadn't experienced a moment of peaceful rest in the past five days, it felt like a mere drop of water in a vast desert.
Well, at least there was a drop of water... gotta be positive.
Dab. Dab. Dab.
And that's what led her to her current condition, where she was using concealer to hide the dark circles etching shadows beneath her eyes. She did not quite like– taking away the privilege of oxygen from her skin. But if she was suffering, then who cares about skin?
Contemplating her look in the mirror for a last time, she ensured she didn't resemble what she felt like—a zombie, and shuffled her way to the kitchen.
Coffee was such a heaven-sent elixir in times like these.
She brewed a cup of black coffee, bypassing her normal preference of cold coffee with sugar and milk, knowing if she wanted to function in her current state she would need the bitter drink.
The sound of a quiet groan and shuffling of the cushions caught her attention and she found herself in the common room, clutching the warm cup of coffee. There, sprawled on the couch, was Tony—clothes disheveled, hair unkempt, and one hand massaging his forehead.
"You okay there, Genius?" she asked, taking a sip of her drink. Her eyes scanned his form, the way his clothes were unkempt and hair ruffled, momentarily wondering if he'd been mugged in New York's alleys. The chances were slim, he was Iron Man for god sake, but then again with Tony Stark, anything was possible.
Was he okay?
Until she saw the purplish bruises on his necks littering his neck and jawline. Right, why didn't she think so, it was Tony we were talking about, of course he hadn't been mugged or injured but rather was back after having sex with some models,"You know what? Don't bother answering my question," she mumbled, shaking her head in mild disgust.
"Why, sweetheart, jealous much?" he asked, his hand now resting behind him on the couch, his face containing his ever so cheeky smirk, "Jarvis, told me you were asking If I was up... that too late at night, I wonder why?"
Nora gave him an unimpressed look her eyebrows raised in the silent question of, if he was really doing this. But before she could quip with something sardonic, he continued, "You know those two were quite hot, but you are no less. I'm pretty sure I can manage–"
"Oh, for fucks sake! Stop right there, Tony!" she said, her eyes narrowed, the grip on her cup tightened enough for her knuckles to whiten, "otherwise don't blame me, if something happened to your armor, your handsome face or... god forbid, your arc-reactor,"
