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It’s the biggest party since they defeated Thanos and restored half of the universe back to life.
Everyone was talking about it. The media, the Avengers, the woman at the ice-cream stand he visited this morning. Peter recruited Thor and Rocket a week ago to help him throw the party, Rhodey and Pepper immediately volunteering as well. Before long, done everybody was invested in that party in some way.
Everybody but Tony.
Not that he could actually say so to anyone. Especially not Peter, not after seeing how happy it made the teen to be the mastermind behind it.
So he just went with it. Even if the only thing he wanted to do this night was lock himself up in his lab and don’t come out for three days.
Or maybe ever.
He can’t blame the kid for his enthusiasm. He can’t even blame the others for joining in, thinking that this is exactly what Tony wants. The party image he’s created for himself over the years sometimes fooled even him. Dancing, drinking and hitting on strangers at the bar used to be his favorite past time…back when he was seventeen.
The thrill soon faded though. As all thrills do with time.
But he has a reputation to maintain…doesn’t he? So just like he had been doing for years, he’s going to show up tonight, listen to an embarrassing speech likely from Rhodey, mingle for a bit and wait for his opportunity to disappear from the drunken crowds into solitude again.
“Man of Iron!” Thor booms from beyond the door to his room and he waves at Fri to let him in. “I have been sent by the Spider-boy to see if you are ready…for the party of the century!” the God of Thunder walks up to him, clasping his shoulders in a firm grip.
Tony would roll his eyes at Thor’s antics before. Back when the Avengers were just a little team of unlikely colleagues picked by Fury off the streets. So much has changed since then.
And he can see the demi-god’s mannerism for what it really is now. A front. Not any different from the ones he wears himself all the time. Because it’s either that or look like a living mess of depression every day.
Asgard destroyed, father and brother dead, most of his people dead…Tony doesn’t need the thirty years of experience hiding his grief behind plastered smiles and witty jokes to read Thor like a book.
“I must warn you, shieldbrother. Stay away from the fancy cauldron filled with sparkly, golden liquor. Me, the tree and the rabbit were most fortunate to have…found…a hidden stash of it on this planet we visited? Even for gods, the drink poses many dangers! But tastes quite heavenly I must say.”
Tony chuckles this time, letting Thor steer him towards the doors and up the hallway leading to the gathering area of the Compound. “Anything else I should know about? Poisoned food? Quill hidden in the cake ready to jump out singing Hooked on a Feeling?”
“Not that I know of. Although the Starman did insist on compiling the music tracks for the party. He seems most capable in this field,” Thor admits.
“His taste in music is one of his redeeming qualities. Maybe the only one,” he quips, not really believing that. He hadn’t known Quill for long, but he’s another fellow man buried behind a wall of well constructed façades .
Seems to be the latest interplanetary trend.
They enter the room, all decorated in red and gold ribbons, carpets spread over the cold metallic floor and the sheer amount of food might just be enough to feed a bunch of super-enhanced stomachs.
“The man of the hour, everyone!” Thor announces and the room erupts in applause and cheers and ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY, TONYs’.
And he smiles and laughs and most of all – he pretends.
That he’s happy. That Thanos didn’t almost destroy everything Tony’s ever cared about all those months ago. That Rogers didn’t rip his heart out of his abused chest and splattered in onto a cold, concrete floor of a Siberian bunker. That Rhodey isn’t disabled for life and it’s not all Tony’s fault. That he’s not lying in his bed every night fighting off nightmares determined to haunt him whenever he so much as blinks his eyes closed.
He pretends he deserves to be here. With all these people that all lost so much over the years. Partying, laughing, having fun.
That he deserves to be alive.
So he pretends, and pretends…until he’s done with the hugs, done with the presents, done with the awfully remorseful and at the same time awfully oblivious looks on Rogers’s face…until he’s just done.
He makes sure he’s thanked everyone enough and moves to make a final appearance to Peter, hanging out with Thor and Rocket at the forbidden cauldron of –
“Did you…steal the Cauldron of Cosmos and poured the stolen liquor in it?!” Tony stares between the antique relic and the two likely culprits.
Rocket chokes on his cocktail, faking a coughing fit.
“Cauldron of Cosmos? Naaah, it’s um…just…a big kettle,” Thor feigns innocence, blocking the Cauldron from view, much to Peter’s amusement.
“Uhuh. Whatever. Anyway…you guys having fun? Pete?”
“Of course! Thor is telling me the story of how he got this dangerous superbooze from the most dangerous pirate in the galaxy! So exciting, you should hear it, too!”
Thor and Rocket exchange a look that clearly says they’ve been busted.
“I think I’ve heard the…summarized version of it already. Make sure they tell you about the Cauldron as well. That’s gotta be an even more exciting story. With an open ending,” he adds, squinting at Thor, who gulps. “Keep an eye on that klepto raccoon, Point Break. If I wake up to half of the Compound’s worth of shiny stuff missing, I’ll hunt you both down. And I know where you live,” he whispers to the now furiously nodding Asgardian. “I’ll go freshen up real quick, so…continue,” he prompts them, sending Peter his rare, actual smile and retreating through one of the side exits.
Instead of diving straight into the lab, he ascends up to the roof. He could use a breath of fresh air…calm down.
He sits down at the edge facing the New York skyline, leaning against an AC unit behind him. The night is cool despite the hot days of late but he opts to shed his jacket and loosen the bowtie around his neck.
No need to look presentable anymore. Everyone who’d care is busy having fun downstairs…which is good. Even if it’s just a distraction, they deserve to let loose for the night and knock back from the ever busy job of protecting the Earth.
The party will serve some purpose at least. Just not for him. He can’t afford distraction. He needs to be ready. Needs to see the next big bad coming their way. Needs to – install FRIDAY on the roof so she can warn him before soft and warm attackers decide to snuggle up to him from behind.
Overcoming the initial scare, he rolls his eyes, glaring down at the Cloak of Levitation innocently hugging his shoulders now.
“Where did you come from?” he whispers to it, but makes no move to shrug it away.
There is usually a six feet tall wizard attached to the Cloak. He’s rarely seen it leave its chosen master…not without him going straight after it. It’s how he ended up with a confused wizard in his lab once, the Cloak playing invisible hanging off from DUM-E.
Easy explanation is – the Cloak likes to prank Strange every now and then. And it’s pretty good at it. So he assumes he left the wizard alone at the party and sneaked up here to hide.
Not that he minds. The Cloak is a silent companion and clearly isn’t here to judge him or berate him for not being at his own party.
That will be its owner’s job apparently.
“Ah. So that’s where you disappeared off to,” Strange emerges from the hatch a little breathless.
Tony looks over his shoulder at him and has to do a double-take. Apart from the Cloak, the sorcerer’s usual attire is gone, exchanged for a proper tux.
That’s a first. Even at the party following Thanos’s defeat, he wore his wizard robes. The same ones he battled Thanos with. The same ones he died wearing.
Tony banishes the thought and schools his cracking façade back into action. “I didn’t disappear,” he argues, watching the doctor approach.
“Um…I meant the Cloak. Although you seemed to have ditched the party as well?” he says with a lot less judgment than Tony would expect and sits next to him, clutching a glass bowl in his slightly shaking hands.
He zeroes in on the contents and squints at the Sorcerer Supreme. “I thought you said it was chalky.”
He looks down into the bowl of ice-cream, then back at Tony and smirks. “I said that. Doesn’t mean I don’t like it,” he retorts and eats a spoonful of it.
“Hm,” is all he manages in terms of comeback and moves his gaze back to the city in the distance. He really just wanted to be alone right now. Sulk and despair in silence. Unseen. Undisturbed.
Damn you, Cloakie.
It would seem that the normally snarky Doctor isn’t in the mood for banter and even when he’s all done with the ice-cream, he just sits there, quiet.
First the tux, now the lack of clever quips…should he be worried?
“Why don’t you go back to the party? Unless this is you saying that it sucks and you’d rather hang out here,” Tony speaks up. “I’ll have you know Peter is going be very disappointed if that’s the case. Not to mention he was really looking forward for those balloon animal tricks of yours.”
A chuckle grumbles deeply from the man’s chest, smooth and pleasant and…genuine. “The party’s okay. It’s just not really my scene anymore.”
“Says the man wearing a fancy tux…what do you have that for then? Upper-class sorcerer gatherings? I thought you wore that blue medieval costume everywhere. Probably even to bed!”
“Huh. Why would you be thinking about what I wear to bed?” he raises an eyebrow at him, finally a little semblance of the usual Doctor Wizard back in his voice and words.
“Why would you own a tux if you didn’t like going to parties?”
“And now you’re just deflecting…interesting,” he grins, looking down with a frown.
Tony follows his curious gaze and realizes the Cloak is still resting around his shoulders as opposed to returning to the Sorcerer.
“Anyway, just because I own a suit doesn’t mean I like parties. I own a vacuum cleaner too…doesn’t mean I like cleaning. Bit presumptuous, don’t you think?”
Yes. He does think that. Too bad nobody seems to understand this easy logic…other than them. “Your scene or not, you should go back, get drunk, cause some trouble…and listen to the fascinating story of how Thor and Rocket stole the Cauldron of Cosmos from the Sanctum to pour their illegal liquor into.”
Strange laughs, really laughs – chest heaving and eyes crinkling and it stops Tony’s wild brain for a second. “Okay, that’s funny, I’ll give you that. I’ll go back if you will.”
Tony has a dozen of excuses ready to use. His mouth has different ideas though. “I’m done for tonight. Too much…everything. I’m not getting any younger here,” he quickly forces a smile, trying to lighten it up.
“And who is?” Strange shrugs, his eyes still wandering between Tony’s face and the Cloak. “We’re all getting older. Every second, every day…could be worse.”
Tony scoffs, bringing one knee up to hug and rest his head on. “Really? Worse than rapidly, inevitably growing old? How?”
“Well, we could be dead,” he deadpans.
The last time he’s seen an expression this serious on the man’s face was back on Titan. And then many times after that in one of many of the nightmares that followed. Peter dissolving into dust, pleading with him. The Guardians, disappearing one by one.
The Doctor, never breaking eye-contact until the wind blows him away across the battlefield. Apologizing.
“Tony?”
His eyes snap back to the Doctor, very much in one piece next to him.
Tony.
He went from being douchebag to Stark to Tony in a span of three battles. The sound of his name used to haunt him the most after that. The way Strange said it. So many words he didn’t have time to say packed into just one. Tony.
“You were,” Tony breathes out, barely a whisper.
“I was what?”
“Dead.”
Something unreadable crosses his expression before it softens…melts into a gentle smile. “And now I’m not. Now I’m here. With you, ditching your own birthday party.”
“You were dead!” he snaps at him. “All of you…dead! And I knew it would happen! For years I knew something would come and destroy and kill and leave me in the wake of it alone! Alive! And Thanos arrived. And he destroyed and he killed…and I lived.”
“And you saved us all,” he says, completely unfazed by his outburst.
“Bullshit!”
“Half of the universe. Alive again. Because you lived.”
“Yeah?! And what about the next time somebody comes down to Earth to play God?! What if somebody comes right now?! And we’re doing what? Having a party! Great! I’m sure Mr. Fuckyourplanetup is going to be all ‘Oh I’m sorry, I’ll come back on Thursday, go on’!”
“Tony.”
“What if Thanos was just a child’s play compared to what’s coming next?!”
“Stark?”
“What if the next guy won’t have some fucked up moral code about balance and natural order and just straight up murders everyone and I - ”
“Hey, douchebag!” Strange yells at him, his hand resting on his shoulder. “Yes. We died. And you lived. And then you stopped at nothing, nothing! To bring us all back again. Kicked Thanos’s purple butt. Destroyed the gauntlet…it was a twisted victory. But it was one regardless! One win…out of fourteen million failed possibilities! Because you lived. So I’m sorry if you wanted to die some bullshit heroic death back on Titan, but if you died? You would have literally doomed half of the universe! Sealed its fate, just like that. With you. Dead.”
Tony stares at him, for once completely speechless. He knows this. Of course he knows this, this was…the endgame. But…but…
“Don’t you get it?” he asks, that pure, soft smile Tony would rather punch away from existence settles back on his face. Just for him to see. Always just for him. “Tony…what happened? Happened. And nobody can guess what comes next, what other evil is lurking out there to take Thanos’s place. Yesterday is history. Tomorrow is mystery. And today? The 29th of May, 2019? Today is a gift, Tony. That’s why it’s called present. And you...you are a gift. To all of us. Because we wouldn’t be here without you today if you weren’t born…eighty years ago. Ninety? Who’s counting. My point is…those people down there? They’re not just celebrating another year of your life. They’re celebrating your life. That’s it. Simple as that.”
“Wh…the hell am I supposed to say to that?!” he restarts after more than an appropriate moment of time of openly gaping at the man.
“I don’t know…’fuck it, let’s go party then’?”
“You said parties aren’t your scene anymore!”
“They aren’t. And yet…here I am…in a tux no less,” he nods, the smile turning into a grin.
Oh. Oh.
Tony turns away from the earnest gaze of the sorcerer that somehow became his friend between cruising through space on a donut and surviving the end of the world together on Earth way later.
“Speaking of gifts…you haven’t given me any,” he finds it in himself to momentarily forget the existential crisis he’s going through and tune in on the snarky side of their usual banter.
“Pffft. You’ve basically stolen my Cloak already, will that do?” he points at Cloakie, that hadn’t moved an inch still.
“I’d prefer gifts that don’t tend to fly off few hours after being gifted. No offence, Cloakie, you’re the best. But someone has to look after your magician ass when Wong is not with you, doc,” he squints at Strange.
He opens his mouth to retort, some witty answer undoubtedly on his mind, but he stops himself, grinning mischievously instead. “Magician, huh? I’ll allow that…just for today,” he flails his hands about, sparkles of gold flying around them and suddenly he’s holding…a pink balloon. “A balloon dog, just for the birthday boy,” he smirks and inflates the narrow balloon.
Tony rolls his eyes, choking out a laugh. He watches Strange fumble with the balloon for a while and wonders if he should stop making all the wizard jokes at his expanse. His shaky fingers are struggling to form anything out of the balloon at all, but despite the fight, his grin is only widening with every knot tied.
“There! A dog,” he proudly presents the result to Tony, who takes it, mouth open in…sheer horror.
“That…is not a dog,” Tony clasps his mouth shut, looking at the magical creation. “That’s a dick, dude.”
Strange nods, shrugging a little. “Oh well…my bad. It’ll do, though.”
“You’re a dick.”
“I aim to please,” he smirks.
Oh no he didn’t. “Really?” Tony crumbles underneath the brutal force of that pun, shaking his head.
“Now…why don’t we go back downstairs to check on all the irresponsible adults and hopefully very sober teenagers and then…possibly excusing ourselves from the party and going to Paris for a late night snack?”
Tony scoffs, giving Strange a thoughtful look. “I thought Paris didn’t pass the health inspection last month and they closed the place. Peter complained about it ever since.”
“Tony, I didn’t mean the dirty diner that serves rocks in their ratatouille down the street where Peter lives. I meant Paris. As in the city. As in you and me in Paris, tonight, dinner…Eiffel Tower and all that.”
That startles out a laugh out of him…the kind of laugh he wasn’t sure he was still capable of. Then again, this grinning wizard seems to have a bag full of tricks when it comes to surprising him.
“Okay, Sorcerer Supreme. You’re on. I’m not easily impressed so…good luck,” he says, scrambling to his feet, Cloakie coming back to life and sweeping dust of his pants.
“Who needs luck when they have magic,” Strange winks, also standing up and offering him his elbow.
Goddamn proper wizards. “True,” he nods, sneaking an arm through his while the Cloak happily flails behind them. “But just so you know? I wasn’t actually joking about Rocket stealing the Cauldron of Cosmos.”
His grin falters, expression hardening. “I will kick the thieving raccoon’s soul all the way through a thousand different dimensions!” he threatens and leads them back towards the party.
As he hangs by the exit, waiting for his sorcerer date - currently chasing a drunken raccoon across the room - and trying hard not to laugh at the horrified expressions on Pepper’s and Rhodey’s faces when they find a floating balloon dick in the punch bowl and immediately suspect Peter of the prank, there’s a nagging thought at the back of his mind. Unheard of. Alien. Strange.
That maybe…today is a good day to be alive. A good day to have been born after all.
~