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Summary:

The Squidward problem may have been solved, but Tony Stark is still hurtling through space on a giant metal doughnut with a teenager, a surly wizard and a very loyal piece of outerwear, towards almost-certain death with the fate of the universe at stake. Luckily he has a tried and tested method to work through these sorts of situations.

Notes:

Oh, my first Tony Stark Drabble/fic.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

You’re not listening to me, sir.

“I’m listening to you. I’m just not paying attention.”

“What was that, Mr Stark?” The Kid was looking over at him with the big, earnest puppy-dog eyes, and Tony jumped a little. He hadn’t actually been aware that he had spoken aloud.

“Nothing, Kid. Sorry”, he replied.

Parker looked a little concerned, which given that he was on a spaceship flying through space towards god-knows where in order to try to defeat a megalomaniac intent on destroying the universe, was to be expected. Tony was feeling a more than a little concerned himself, which was why he’d been trying to reason things out with head-JARVIS in the first place.

Not that he would have admitted this particular foible to The Kid, or to anyone really. The problem with being so brilliant had meant that for a long time, as long as he could remember really, he couldn’t necessarily count on the people around him to keep up with him and the million thoughts racing through his mind at any given time. As a result, he found himself holding conversations in his head. Not with himself, of course, because that would be the first sign of madness. And the second. But with someone else.

For a long time, the someone else had been his father. Those conversations had been not fun. Head-Howard-Stark had a knack for pointing out the extent to which Tony’s ideas were at best moronic and at worst a disgrace to the Stark name. It hadn’t been the most useful. But once he had returned to Stark Industries, he had J.A.R.V.I.S. Perhaps because J.A.R.V.I.S. had been borne of Tony’s thinking, rather than criticise and jibe, he would find ways to agree with him, or to disagree in a way that Tony didn’t get mad about.

Of course, he’d lost J.A.R.V.I.S., but not long after Sokovia, one day when he was sat in his office considering something which he couldn’t even remember now, he had posed a question to himself, and it was head-JARVIS who answered. And so through the next years; the accords and everything that came after, he’d had head-JARVIS there, to hear him out and find the method in his madness.

And very, very occasionally – usually when he wrong and he knew it - the answer would come from Captain America himself. Head-Steve-Rogers was as infuriating as the real life version, and as impossible to ignore. Tony instinctively went to reach into his pocket, but the phone, of course, wasn’t there. Not that it would do him any good. But he’d grown used to it being there; in his trouser pocket at the office, in a specially adapted section of the Suit, one that allowed him to brush his fingers over the plastic casing. He had grown used to the weight of it. He felt a little wrong, a little off kilter, being without it after so long. That was another thing he’d never admit to anyone. Although he suspected that Pepper knew. She was much smarter than him when it came to these kinds of things.

Thinking of her brought him a sudden jolt of unpleasantness. It would probably be best to avoid thinking about her, at least at the moment. It may not be the worst situation he’d ever found himself in, but head-JARVIS was right, it was pretty high on the list. It would probably require the full resources of his vast intellect and being distracted by thoughts of Pepper and by the fact that the last thing he’d done before leaving the earth, probably for the last time, was to disappoint her. Again.


Time passed.

Strange was standing in front of the giant window, with his hands behind his back. He stood entirely, perfectly still and had been doing so for what seemed like an eternity as the hurtled through space. No fidgeting, never shifting his weight. Even his cloak was still, like it was carved from crimson stone, rather than woven from magic and righteous indignation. It was rather unsettling.

“Could you not do that please” Tony spoke aloud. “It’s rather unsettling.”

Strange ignored him.

The Kid, meanwhile, had crept up to the right hand side of the glass, and sat with his arms wrapped around her knees, staring out.

Tony sighed, leaning his head back against the panel behind him and allowing his eyes to close. He resolutely did not think about Pepper as he drifted further and further from her, across the cold and empty void of space.

Sometimes he wondered how he had ended up here. His life had taken such drastic turns on so many occasions, and sometimes he wished that it hadn’t happened. Sometimes he just longed for a normal life with Pepper, getting married, having children.

Thus far not thinking about Ms. Potts , head-JARVIS berated him.

“Whatever. It’s not like I care,” Tony retorted dryly, speaking out loud and drawing attention from Peter.

Tony made a dismissive gesture, “nothing to worry about, Kid.”

What would his life have looked like if it had went down a normal path? Would he still been manufacturing weapons? Would Pepper be there? He felt his heart constrict and he swallowed away the lump that had formed in his throat.

Then again, it would have been so boring. But being lost in space wasn’t something he had planned on, dull life or not.

Are we just going to sit here and wallow in self-pity, sir? head-JARVIS asked.

Tony chewed on that question for a moment. He wanted to… but it wasn’t his style. He had been battered down countless occasions and he gotten up on his feet always one more. From time to time it wasn’t bad to exercise some self-reflection, but this had been enough for now. Get on your feet!

Before he was even standing, something jostled the space-ship violently. It even snapped Strange out of his reverie and the kid looked at him with big eyes.

“What was that?” Peter asked.

“I dunno, kid. Let’s go check it out,” and Tony walked to the control-panel to see if he could make out anything there. He tapped some buttons on the screen, murmuring to himself, both Stephen and Peter hovering behind him and watching over his shoulder.

“One of the engines died,” Tony said sour and tapped on the screen some more. “I could fix it, but I’ll have to go out there.”

“Without spare parts?” Strange asked dryly. “I don’t think you can summon those out of your suit.”

“No, but if I can rewire the engines and-” His thoughts were already racing through his mind. He was sure he could fix it but there was only one problem; power. He needed something to keep the engine powered because if he was going to rewire a multitude of things it would bust the-

“Anything you need?” Strange asked, shattering his train of thoughts.

“Power!” he exclaimed.

Stephen raised an eyebrow. “You have to be more specific.”

“I need to reroute the wiring but that will be at the expanse of what is currently empowering the engine. I need a replacement,” Tony explained in a more mundane language and tapped his fingers to his lips.

“I might be able to conduct some power, but it will be magical,” Stephen offered, his eyes narrowed as he was thinking.

Peter watched as Tony and Strange went into an animated discussion about how they could solve this problem. He tried to keep up but something outside of the ship’s window caught his eye.

He turned to get a better look, squinting to see something in the vast blackness of space. “Uhm, guys,” he said, trying to get their attention.

“Not now kid,” Tony rebuked a little snappy.

“Mr. Stark I think you really want to see this,” Peter said more urgently.

Tony let out a slight irritated huff but turned anyway. “What, kid?”

Peter was pointing at something outside of the window. Tony joined him, Strange on his heels.

“Who’s that?” Peter asked.

Not a something, a someone !

The End

Notes:

We’m really curious what you think of this fic and we would be overjoyed if you leave a comment. We’ll take anything from a key mash to a full essay.
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