Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hey Tony…

Don’t worry… I know you’ll both be okay…

I love you.

[*]

It echoes in his head during every dissociative episode, even now when he’s holding a burn on his hand under cold water, watching the water hit his reddened skin and this pain is so distant, just like the childish laughter in the background. But the nudge against his side is closer and so is the concern in Stephen’s eyes as he raises his head.

“You know my cloak can only keep Morgan entertained for so long.”

There’s the big pan of spaghetti that Tony just burned his hand on in Stephen’s grip and Tony just nods because he’s done picking at old wounds (or so he would like). Instead he grabs cutlery and brings it to the table, tries not to think about how the seat Stephen was sat in used to be Pepper’s: Morgan almost seems to have forgotten as she giggles once the cloak spins her around again.

“Dad, up! Help me up!”

Tony smiles faintly as he lifts his daughter up into her stool, takes in the gleeful expression she makes as she sees her favourite food on her plate. Stephen tries to adjust her bib a couple of times, but gives up once he sees that tomato sauce has splattered onto even her pants. This is how it mostly goes nowadays, sometimes even Peter finds the time to join them for dinner with his aunt tagging along occasionally too, but it’s like trying to fill up a hole with the wrong stuffing.

Stephen always notices how silent he is when it’s particularly bad and even if he probably had other things to do, this was something he rarely missed out on. Sometimes he also brought Wong along and even if he’s just as quiet, Morgan has taken a great liking on him and tells him he has a ‘funny’ face, which he tolerates (surprisingly). Tonight it’s just the three of them though and so Stephen tries to play the part where he tries not to let Morgan see just how badly her father is actually doing.

“How was school today?”

Tony wants to roll his eyes, because even when he can barely stomach a fork of pasta, this sentence reminds him so utterly much of his own father that he wants to gag.

“It was boring… Dad taught me all the math I’m learning already.”

They both notice how he tilts his head up a bit as he’s mentioned in the conversation and it helps: to know he was supporting his child even just a little bit was so utterly relieving, he bravely ate a good fork-full spaghetti. Stephen smiled at her and Tony thinks he smiles too little as he sees it.

“I also thought school was boring too when I was your age. But keep in mind that you should still pay attention, especially during other subjects.”

Now his daughter was already disinterested in the conversation and Tony is reminded of himself as a child, how he tapped out of such conversations when he was younger too, but he could appreciate Stephen’s try. Instead he notes Morgan’s empty plate and gathers his last strength of the day.

“Alright, time for bed, young lady!”

He ignores her squeals and protests as he picks her up from her stool to carry her upstairs and tuck her in, knowing Stephen will do the dishes (as he always does now).

[*]

Stephen considers doing the dishes his main punishment. The soap and the gripping with the hot water is his personal torture, his way of atoning for taking a mother and a wife from her daughter and her husband, even if it was at the expense of a universe. Wong has already told him that he had been spending an awful lot of time at the Stark household, but how could he not when what he’s done is so…-

“How are the dishes?”

His self-deprecating thoughts paused as he hears Tony approach and chooses for it to be the perfect moment to start dry everything. Of course he knows everything is fully technologically-operated in this household, but Tony has stopped insisting he started using the dishwasher.

“Not broken.”

“Good, ‘cause it wouldn’t be the first time.”

It’s true that Stephen used to drop much of their tableware back when he had less control and experience, but now he keeps everything over the sink and is a lot more careful. He just grimaces slightly at the question as he tries to stack their clean plates again.

“… How did it go with Morgan?”

It was a touchy subject and they both knew it. The first couple of weeks she couldn’t go to sleep on her own without Tony staying with her until she fell asleep and she cried a lot, but who wouldn’t? Another child might be more confused, but Morgan seemed to perfectly understand what it meant when Tony told her that her mother wouldn’t come back, ever again.

“… It was okay. She seemed pretty tired tonight.”

Stephen hums in turn, finally succeeding in putting everything in place and his hands are painful to even wave around a bit as he put the towel back too. Tony might have noticed, but even so, he doesn’t comment on it.

“Do you want a drink? I think I’ll have something.”

“Tony…”

It’s this warning tone, Tony knows it well by now (especially when he doesn’t want to admit that there is reason behind the tone in Stephen’s voice).

“I’ll control myself, pinky promise.”

Still the sorcerer doesn’t look pleased as he watches Tony pour himself something hard and it reminds both of them of the many times Tony had drunkenly lashed out at him, called him a murderer and a heartless bastard, a favourite of Stephen’s in weak times of self-hatred. It’s been a while since that lasted happened though and so the former neurosurgeon pulls his lips into a tight line as Tony gestures for him to sit at the table with him.

“Don’t you have elsewhere to be, anyways?”

“… I can stay if you want company.”

Tony looks at him over the rim of his glass, watches the liquor swirl between the rocks of ice in his glass before trying to decipher the look Stephen was giving him. Tony hates how passive Stephen is acting whenever they’re together now most days and maybe it’s this numbness inside him that wishes for more, wants to fight, wants to feel again.

“If pity is all I’m getting, you might as well leave. I’m over that bullshit.”

It’s a lie and they both know that, but they also know that Tony Stark was certainly not one for pity, if anything. He’s not even sure if this is really why Stephen was here, but it would be the most logical reason behind his frequent visits to their house and just like he assumed, he could almost watch Stephen bristle up after he spoke.

“I’m not pitying you, Tony.”

“Then why else are you here?”

It’s clear that the question is not what Stephen wanted to touch on, but Tony’s eyes were unforgiving and fixated on the sorcerer and his body language, watching him chew on his words.

“Losing someone close to you can potentially result in PTSD in some cases, we both know that. It’s my duty as a doctor to oversee…-“

“Bullshit. Even if you still had your license, you’re a neurosurgeon, not a fucking psychiatrist, Stephen.”

That was salt in an old wound that never healed completely and Tony could tell it stung by the way Stephen’s hand twitched, as if obviously offended by his words, but all he hears is a timed exhale of the air in his lungs, as if he was counting the seconds to determine his breathing pattern. An obvious meditation tactic.

“… You should go to bed. You’re probably tired from your day, too.”

It’s also obvious that Stephen just wants to avoid having an argument now and maybe if he had had another glass, Tony would not let him. But it’s true that he’s tired, so tired of everything. It’s been months, but still does Pepper’s loss haunt him. So instead he just shrugs and gets up, takes the glass into the kitchen and even the alcohol doesn’t taste as tempting as it used to before placing it in the sink and walking back to the table.

Stephen was still watching him closely and normally it would irritate him so impossibly much, but now he remembers Morgan’s bright smile as she saw the spaghetti on her plate and it puts his temper back into its place again, especially as Stephen makes no move to talk back to him or even get up. Instead he grabs the edge of Morgan’s chair and glances over to Stephen with a faint nod.

“… Thank you.”

If he was surprised by the sudden change of attitude, it didn’t show. He received the smallest smile in return as Stephen gets out of his seat, too.

“It’s the least I can do.”

Tony pointedly chooses to ignore the comment, shakes it off with his head in mute disagreement as if getting rid of unwanted memories buzzing around his face like annoying flies. He watches the sorcerer conjure up a portal to the Sanctum, tapping his foot a bit as he watches Stephen turn to face him one more time.

“Good night, Tony.”

“Sweet dreams to you too, of me of course.”

Now Stephen was rolling his eyes as he disappears through the magic circle, but Tony still catches the appreciative nod as the circles rolls closed again and as he stars making his way to his bedroom, Tony feels a bit less alone in the big space of the twin-sized mattress tonight.

Chapter Text

Weeks passed by like that. Tony barely ever found the strength to do more than bring Morgan to bed and it’s a minor miracle if he ever manages to get through dinner on his own without Stephen’s help. He’s there most days, but even your friendly next-door sorcerer was busy at times. Tonight it was Rhodey’s turn to give them company during dinner and it’s mostly work-related until Rhodey realized that Toney had tapped out of the conversation a long time ago already and looks at him with the same fucking eyes as everyone else.

"Tony, I can come back another time with this, really."

"No, it’s fine. What did you say you needed again?"

Just as his friend tried to take another approach to making his request, a portal swings open and through steps said sorcerer and suddenly it felt like Rhodey was breaking into something he shouldn’t, something almost… intimate. Stephen seems to realize the same thing, notices how confused the veteran seemed judging by his raised eyebrow and how much Tony looked like this was bad timing.

"... I wasn’t aware you had company. I’ll take my leave."

Tony wanted to say no, but Rhodey beat him to it, which was as surprising as it was suspicious.

"You don’t have to leave because of me, Doc’."

Stephen seems to stand still in time, portal remaining open as he searches for Tony’s eyes, as if wanting to know what his opinion on the matter was. Tony just gave a faint nod and Stephen fully stepped into the lofty living room, still a bit out of place, but Tony just watched him instead of saying anything more.

"... Is there an emergency?"

It made everything so unbearably awkward and Rhodey was speaking out loud what both of them had pointedly ignored before: the lack of valid reason behind Stephen‘s consistent appearance in Tony‘s household.

"I invited him to dinner, my mistake. We already ate, but there are some cold tacos if you want to finally put some much-needed fat on your ribs."

Tony even surprises himself sometimes, this included. He had never explicitly invited Stephen before, but he had also never denied him when he had invited himself in, which created this weird pattern of self-understanding they were in now.

"… Thank you."

Tony tries not to notice the weird tension, because Rhodey was less present in their household than Wong or Peter, who had both never asked questions. But Rhodey had a talent for that, pin-pointing what everyone else would try to keep unsaid or secret in plain sight, so Tony expected to be in for a strange (ha,) set of questions.

But to his surprise, a raised eyebrow is all he got as Rhodey continued to talk about the new project he tried to start up and about funding, business as usual even as Stephen joined them with two floppy tacos. Neither of them seemed to mind the obvious ignorance, even if the uneasy feeling of this coming directly out of pity-town didn‘t leave Tony for the rest of the night.

[*]

"... I didn‘t know you were having Rhodey over."

"Well, I also didn‘t know I was having you over either, if we‘re being precise."

Even now, Stephen made it a point to wash his own plate instead of putting it in the dishwasher and Tony just rolls his eyes as he leans his waist against the counter.

"I can leave, if you mind."

"Oh please, I have minded more before and you never left, at least not for long. Like an annoying fly."

Stephen sends him a dirty look, as if calculating him, before smirking back at his plate in a way Tony had almost missed.

"You know how it is, flies are attracted to things that smell like shit."

Tony stares at him in surprise and it wasn‘t even that great of a comeback (in his opinion), but it‘s been a very long time since he had last heard an insult like that from the sorcerer and he was surprised by how much this made him feel normal and most of all, not pitied in any way.

"Yes, because I‘m the shit. That‘s why."

Stephen rolls his eyes and sprays a bit of water on the other superhero, but Tony didn‘t miss the amused twinkle in his eyes as he hissed like a cat in response. This felt... nice.

"And I can’t talk you into a drink tonight, either?"

Stephen weakly shakes his head and Tony shrugs as he pours himself a glass, now part of a carefully drafted routine. But tonight the drink wasn‘t tasting of self-pity and pointless anger, it reminded him of his partying days, a much more fun time. Stephen seemed to have noticed his cheery attitude, especially as Tony walked over to the (very boisterous) stereo to put on a song.

"Isn’t Morgan sleeping upstairs?"

"She’s at a birthday sleepover, don’t fuss so much."

Stephen just shrugs in reply, gently drying off his hands as Tony puts on a very familiar song, immediately catching Stephen‘s attention as he walks over to join the other hero, leaning against the table as he chuckles.

“Dancing Queen by ABBA, from the album Arrival, released in 1976. Really, Tony?”

Tony looks at him, as if taken aback by the sudden (and very accurate) comment, holding the control pad a little closer to his chest with an unimpressed expression.

“Is that your actual talent? All that magic is just to cover up this impressive ability?”

“I call it having a good memory. But this is… basic taste, as I’m sure Peter would call it.”

Now Tony seemed offended by even Stephen’s smile and it’s been a while since he’s done this, but his memory was as good as it had ever been.

“Let’s see how much you got then.”

[*]

“She’s A Lady by Tom Jones, from the album Green Grass Of Home, released in 2008.”

“Actually, the album is called Green Green Grass Of Home.”

Stephen rolls his eyes at the smart comment, because of course that happened to just be his first mistake in a long row of over forty songs, but Tony wouldn’t admit defeat (he never really does). So Stephen decided to let him have this one, especially now that he’s feeling the soft drowsy feeling of the red wine Tony managed to finally rope him into trying, sprawled out on the enormous coach in the living room. Both of them staring at the ceiling, Tony picking all kinds of songs and Stephen guessing their origins, artists and album names however well he could.

This was probably the most relaxed they had ever been together before, the lights dimmed down and the sound of blues playing throughout the isolated and yet beautiful house right by the lake. Their arms were touching a little and maybe it’s the alcohol, but it didn’t feel painfully awkward and so neither of them felt the need to move.

“The real question is if you can dance to any of these songs, though.”

“I will not dance for you. Or with you, for that matter.”

Tony looks displeased with that rejection and very obviously decides to hear that Stephen just confessed his inability to dance instead of his disinterest in doing so, which is only shown when he throws the control pad aside to try his best effort at a moon-walk over to the tray with their wine on it, right to the beat of September.

“September by Earth, Wind & Fire. Originally meant to for their album called I Am, released in 1979, but they decided to make this a single and released it in 1978 instead.”

“You’re making that up because I can’t look it up on my tablet right now.”

The sorcerer just laughed, not very loudly, but Tony didn’t know if he had genuinely seen Stephen laugh before, but then again: few people had seen him laugh without holding back, either. Instead, Stephen snatches the pad up with a sling and starts typing, eliciting immediate complaints from the other.

“You want to prove me wrong that badly?”

“Only because you want to be right this badly.”

Tony catches the obvious twinkle in Stephen’s eye as he plops down on the couch next to him again and takes another big swig of wine, trying to make out what it said on the screen and muttered curses under his breath as he read that Stephen was indeed right, big and fat on the band’s Wikipedia page.

“And they call me a smartass.”

“I think of it as a matter of pride.”

“Of course you do.”

Stephen decided not to take it up any more after that, just letting the jingles play through the room as he stared at the ceiling again, pleasantly fuzzy and comfortable. Compared to what he slept on in his days as medical student, this couch was a pure blessing and he allows his eyes to close for a brief second, even if this was something out of order.

He had never stayed the night in the house before, but a lot of things could be forgotten with a bit of alcohol and good music, especially so as he felt Tony slump against him, very obviously tired and probably quite drunk. Even so, Stephen just cracked one eye open to see Tony’s calm expression, eyes closed and breathing even, lips parted ever so slightly. He was staring, but it’s certainly the alcohol that makes it so hard to recalibrate his focus on other things.

Stephen knows he should get going and return to the Sanctum, where Wong is surely waiting for him. But Tony seemed to be very much asleep already and his temple is pressed against Stephen’s biceps, making him very hyperaware of every move that could cause the other to wake. He owed this to Tony, he owed him every bit of peace he could get after everything and Wong had reminded him so many times, It’s not your fault, Stephen. But still, he did feel the guilt rest heavily on him and so he closed his eyes once more, reciting a couple of meditation lessons before drifting off as well.

Chapter Text

For someone who had spent years sleeping on desks or the hard floor of supply rooms, his back hurt agonizingly much, causing a groan to slip from Stephen’s lips as he tried to move his limbs, groggily shifting against his support and only remembering his location after he blinked a couple of times. Tony was still sleeping soundly against him, but has now fallen back against the back of the couch, making it a lot easier for Stephen to move away, which he did (but only after looking over the other for a couple more minutes with an awful lot of attention paid to detail).

He peeled off the blanket he knows his cloak had laid over them and even its flurry movement was enough of a point to see its excitement after watching the scene. Stephen gave it a pointed stare, ignoring that it had no eyes to directly glare warnings into and pondered for a good minute before deciding to open a portal up to the Sanctum.

He could see Wong and it’s obvious that he hadn’t been too worried, because at least Stephen (almost) always tells him where he’s going before leaving the Sanctum. He had one foot through the circle right as the door rang. Wong turns to look at him in question more than anything and Stephen looks back at the sleeping Iron Man on the couch, still snoring quietly, even as it rang again and Stephen cursed quietly.

“I’ll open the door and then I’ll be back.”

Wong nods in (probably only mild) understanding as the sorcerer lets the circle snap closed again before facing the heavily-armed and secured door with a built-in camera, through which he could see Morgan together with a woman and a boy he had never seen before. His instincts kicked in for a brief second, until he remembered that Tony told him that Morgan had been sleeping over at a friend’s house, so she was pretty surely just being dropped off again, which is why he answers the door without threatening magic slings this time.

“Mr. Stark…- Oh, you’re not-...”

“Stephen!”

Morgan grasps his leg in a tight grip before he can even answer to either of them, gripping the door handle to not fall off his feet, the last bit of sleep still tearing at his limbs. The woman still looks at him in question and he is quick to put on his nice face (or ‘professional face’ as he calls it).

“Hello, I’m Doctor Stephen Strange. You must be…”

“Karen, nice to meet you, Stephen.”

He already dislikes her simply because she had pointedly ignored his title and even had the nerves to immediately use his first name, but still he shakes her hand without a comment, careful not to wince as she grasps his hand too harshly.

“Nice to meet you too. Tony is still sleeping, he has been very exhausted lately, but thank you for taking care of Morgan in the meantime.”

The look this woman is giving him doesn’t sit right, but Morgan was already rushing past him as he tried to place it, the small boy next to her looking up in his innocence while holding his mother’s hand.

“So are you Mr. Stark’s… friend?”

What a funny question, Stephen finds. He can about tell from bare knowledge of social cues that she seems to drive on assumptions, but Stephen didn’t really care for her opinion or her possible guess behind why someone ( and a man, no less) was at the Stark household this early in the morning.

Would it be right to call himself Tony’s friend? He isn’t sure if that is what would be appropriate to address this… whatever relationship it was they had. If he said no, it would make him look like a burglar in another household, because who lets their not-friend stay the night at their house?

“Ah, Mrs. Keating! Good morning!”

Iron Man, saving the day as always as he ducks under Stephen’s arm before he could even answer, Morgan right at his tail and Stephen takes a calculated step back, even if it was just to avoid the awkwardness his long pause had caused. For someone who was pretty hung over, Tony sounded just fine, minus the fact that he still wore the same dress-shirt as he had been wearing yesterday evening and his hair was a mess.

“Mr. Stark, good morning. I thought you were asleep. Stephen told me…-“

“Stephen did, huh?”

Tony looks at him over his shoulder and it’s clear that the usage of first names was not something Tony tended to with other parents and Stephen suddenly feels painfully stupid for not having established the same thing from the get-go.

 “We actually have a lot of plans for the day, so thank you for taking care of Morgan and have a great day, Mrs. Keating!”

And with that, the door was shut on the poor woman (not that Stephen actually found any sympathy for her overly-curious looks) before Tony pointedly turns to him and it’s almost embarrassing how much Stephen feels caught. Caught doing what? He doesn’t really know, but still the feeling of impending doom lingers.

“I wasn’t aware you were staying for the night. That’s a new one.”

There wasn’t any detectable anger in his voice, but there was a hint of something else. It was a disruption in their routine and they both felt it clearly now.

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

“Yet you still did.”

Sometimes he would love to strangle the other man, a faint ember of panic igniting in his chest and it’s almost fully evident that he had apparently overstayed his welcome. Morgan was unpacking her bag in her room and Stephen had never been more grateful.

“Should I just have left you like that?”

Occasionally it’s fun to poke at each other like that, years of practise and hardened shells putting up a good fight against petty insults and teasing, but it becomes a problem when things go deeper than the surface level. He could see it in Tony’s eyes, his reaction: they had done this too many times to count now for Stephen to know what comes next.

“I told you that pity has no place in this house! It’s insulting that you would think of me as pathetic enough to ever want or even less, need your pity.”

Stephen did not want to lose his temper in such a moment, but they had been having this argument for the hundredth time now and he was tired of it. His hands were shaking, but they could hear Morgan come down the stairs again, curiously peeking between the bars of the handrail.

“Are you two fighting?”

Tony shoots him a look and he goes over to pick her up, brushes the hair out of her face and kisses her forehead before holding her close, a clear cover-up for their slip just now. Tony lets her rest her chin on his shoulder as he looks right at Stephen, eyes still sharp, but his tone was level again.

“We’re not, don’t worry. Stephen was just about to go.”

The message came across loud and clear and Stephen didn’t want to push it, so he just twirled open his portal and left, easy as that, but his hands were shaking as he stepped into the hall of the Sanctum and he knew Wong could tell, but he waved it off, making his way up to his bedroom. To sleep was a break from existence, at least right now.

[*]

In such moments, Stephen wishes that the Ancient One were here again. Her measures (although questionable at times) had changed his life and his spirit for the better with no avail. He measures his breathing again, maybe he will go to Kamar-Taj to refocus again later. Instead his phone rings besides his pillow and he curses technology and its iron-grip (ha,) on society as he picks it up.

[3:32 PM / from Tony]: hey

It’s as unexpected as it is welcomed, the sorcerer finds within himself as he stares at the mostly meaningless message. Maybe Tony had calmed down by now.

[3:35 PM / from Stephen]: Hello.

[3:35 PM / from Tony]: still using the scary caps and full stops huh

[3:37 PM / from Stephen]: You mean proper grammar and punctuation.

[3:38 PM / from Tony]: whatever

[3:39 PM / from Tony]: will you still come over for dinner with an illiterate tonite? morgan wants to see you

[3:40 PM / from Tony]: and you can bring wong too if you wanna 

So a peace offering. It’s evident that Tony was selfishly using his daughter in an attempt to make up for his own shortcomings and wrongdoings, but Stephen didn’t mind as much as he thought he would. Instead he calls down into the hall to ask Wong if he had eaten yet.

“…What’s on the menu?”

[3:49 PM / from Stephen]: Wong has demanded to view the menu.

[3:52 PM / from Tony]: [img.file]

Stephen sighs deeply, because of course Tony Stark would invite people over to eat Chinese Takeout together at his table.

“As much as it pains me to say, it’s the usual Chinese delivery. You can pick anything you want or stay here. I’m not forcing you to come along.”

Wong looks over the photo of the menu and it takes him a while to weigh his options, but hunger weakens even the strongest men… or something like that as Wong opens a portal directly into the living room, hearing Morgan’s excited giggling right away. Stephen steps through right after, hears it swirl closed behind him and Morgan’s already tugging at the ends of Wong’s robes as Tony stands ominously behind a chair, looking at them expectantly.

“Number Seven for me.”

Wong seems to have caught on faster than him, because Stephen had forgotten to view the options himself while he busied his head thinking about… Whatever.

“I’ll take Three.”

Tony gives a court nod before phoning the place (which Stephen knows he has on speed-dial now), gesturing for them to sit down while he walked back into the kitchen. Stephen chooses to watch Wong suffer at the hand of a young girl instead, how she gazes up at him and asks him to do magic tricks, because even if Stephen could do them too, Wong made them funnier by just… being Wong. Sometimes the nicest faces are the ones that never smile, huh.

It’s a great moment for Stephen to slip away to join Tony in the kitchen and Wong protests weakly, but he leaves his cloak behind to take some of the work off his shoulders, drapes it around Morgan instead before stepping away. Tony had just hung up the phone and turns to meet directly eye-to-eye and now it’s awkward. Unresolved conflicts would gather together and revolt over time, as much as they hated to admit it, it remained a fact.

“… So?”

“So what?”

“This is the part where you apologize.”

It might seem quite a confrontational choice of words, but even as a doctor, Stephen had never done things halfway. Seeing things through to the end was his painful lot. Tony would never understand, but Stephen doesn’t expect him to: all he wants is to not have his help rejected (for selfish and selfless reasons alike).

“I don’t owe you an apology. I never asked for your… help.”

Stephen can see the muscles of Tony’s jaw work as he stares at Stephen and it’s almost astonishing how very much he is reminded of himself, when he first visited Kamar-Taj in complete ignorance. A moment of gentle wisdom takes hold of him as he straightens out his robe in an attempt to ease his nerves.

“There is no shame in asking for help, Tony.”

The scientist was still looking at him, almost in disbelief. There had probably been many things Tony expected Stephen to say right now, but this certainly wasn’t amongst them. But for someone with so much pride, it would take more than a few pretty words and Stephen is very aware of that.

“… I still don't need it.”

“You’ve said that already. Just think about it. You were given your brain for a reason, or so I hope at least.”

It’s a good transition over to a more light-hearted conversation and after the door rang and their food had been delivered, it didn’t feel too out of place for their knees to occasionally brush under the table while they were watching Wong try and teach Morgan how to use chopsticks, the seriousness of the world and all its bitter consequences being forgotten for a while.

Chapter Text

Everything was back to normal again (or as normal as it could be without… her). Tony found himself in a few hours of dissociative engineering in his garage, only snapping out of it when he noticed his daughter sitting on the stairs, hands balled under her chin to stare at him. It was way past her bed time and Tony sighs as he sees the knowing smile as he wipes motor oil off his hands.

“You’re getting sneakier every time I check.”

She giggles in return, stands up as Tony approaches her, smiling down at her with fondness as much as sadness. Normally Morgan hates having to go to bed, but today seemed to be an easy day.

“Why didn’t Stephen eat with us today, dad?”

That gets a raised eyebrow in return. It was true that Stephen had been absent from their dinner tonight, but it wasn’t that unusual (right?). The sorcerer has his own duties to fulfil, after all.

“He’s an adult, he needs to work too, honey. Why are you asking?”

She shrugs in this nonchalant manner that Tony knows to be fake, but it was very clear that introducing Stephen into their routine like this would have certain effects (even if in all actuality, the initiative had all been on Stephen’s side). Tony had never invited him to come over unless it was work-related, but he also didn’t send him away when he did happen to suddenly appear in their living room.

“Let’s get you to bed, come on.”

She reaches out for his hand and he lets her hold it, watches her hold onto it tightly as they climb the stairs back out of the garage, right up the stairs into Morgan’s room. He was used to it now, even if it had normally been Pepper’s job to put her to sleep, but it was as if she understood that he was having a hard time too, giving him even the smallest of breaks with just this.

“Dad?”

“Yes, muffin?”

“I miss Mom.”

It’s a break in time, a crossing of a fine border he had established over time. But Morgan, despite her very much mature demeanour, was still just a child who lost her mother a few months ago, in the end. Luckily she doesn’t start crying and Tony has never been more relieved, because he’s certain that he would have cried with her. He rests his chin on the edge of her bed, kneeling besides it as she stares at him, as if demanding a reaction and he nods weakly.

“Me too, sweet pea. Me too.”

It has become easier to try and keep her off his mind in the past couple of weeks, even if that had just been because he started stowing away every reminder of her in the room she had demanded to be her office to work from home. It’s filled to the brim with useless little things, mostly photographs but even her favourite mug that almost let him have a panic attack last month. A weak attempt, but he had always been better at drowning it out instead of living it.

“Do you want a bed-time story? I’ll read whatever you choose.”

That distracts her enough to break eye-contact at least and Tony begins to feel fragile, because even if he had all the money in the world, what does it matter when he can’t even care for his own daughter properly?

“Alright, scoot over.”

He doesn’t miss how she chose the thickest story of all from her little red shelf, but he wouldn’t deny her, not now and probably not ever in the foreseeable future. They were in this together and when Morgan finally does fall asleep against his side, he feels so hopeful and helpless at the same time in a way he had never thought was even possible.

[*]

The next morning was a rush, mostly because FRIDAY had to wake Tony in time for him to drive Morgan to school, something he normally left to Happy, but it was his off day and so he decided to do it himself, arriving barely in time for her first lesson, but sending her off with a kiss regardless. Slumping back against the driver’s seat, he finally takes a peak at his phone for the first time this morning.

[7:23 AM / from Bruce]: Hey Tony, do you have time to stop by the facility today?

[7:45 AM / from Tony]: what for? kinda busy day 2day

That was a lie, but he can feel a headache brewing in the back of his skull and instead of being a responsible adult, he goes into the nearest coffee shop to buy the largest cup of black coffee they offered before sitting back into his car again.

[7:58 AM / from Bruce]: I need your help with a new project

[8:01 AM / from Tony]: u’re lucky i’m already in town

[8:02 AM / from Tony]: give me 15’

[*]

When he arrives, the first thing Tony finds is Natasha, in a much better shape than he remembers her. The second thing he finds is that this is not about a project.

“Tony, listen…-“

“No, you listen! I wasted a quarter of an hour of my life driving here, I trusted you! I didn’t come here for… this!”

He gestures vaguely at a big table filled with various breakfast elements, very much looking like brunch and he hates brunch. Eating a lot before lunch has always made him nauseous. Bruce looks like a kicked dog and Tony hates the look, it’s as if Morgan learned it from him because it actually works, despite Bruce’s ridiculously green stature.

“I promise there’s a project, but I thought it would be nice to eat… together.”

Natasha gives him a look, because of course it is so much like Bruce to dig up his inner sentimentalist, so he groans as decides to fulfil Bruce’s wish for once, also so Natasha wouldn’t get on his case about this later on. She was much more persistent than she looked (for the most part).

“… Fine.”

Bruce really did look gleeful as he forcefully sat down and of course Scott Lang and Rhodey appeared soon enough, something Tony did not consent to, but he was already sat down, so he didn’t say anything past greetings. It was almost uncomfortably normal, making small-talk and eating eggs and croissants in-between words while everyone ignored the elephant in the room. Tony was exhausted, his back hurt and he only took off his sunglasses once Rhodey urged him to because it was bad manners at the table, wincing as he took in the brightness in the room.

“… and how’s the Doc’ doing?”

The question took him aback, mostly because Rhodey had been talking about his therapy just seconds ago (which Tony knew because he was listening) as he eyed an apple, as if it was the person in question to think for a brief moment.

“I don’t know, haven’t seen him in a bit.”

“I was with you when he came over literally three days ago, Tony.”

“… Then why do you ask?”

It irritates him, the way his best friend made it sound like him and the sorcerer were glued together by the hips at all times, stabbing the small piece of butter on his plate a bit too forcefully as he looked up at the other Avenger again.

“We discussed physical therapy at your place, him talking about all those cases of almost miraculous recovery and that place… Kamar-Taj, was it?”

Oh, so that was where the connection came from. It allowed Tony to sink back in his seat again, shoulders a bit more relaxed than a moment before while finally making the decision to take on a croissant from the plate at the centre of the table, not meeting Rhodey’s eyes as he answered.

“Yeah, Kamar-Taj. So you’re planning holidays in Nepal?”

“I don’t know if you could call it holidays. Strange said it’s a lot of hard work.”

“Stephen talks much when the day is long. Besides, I don’t know how good it would be for anyone if you knew how to use… energies from every possible dimension in the universe, I guess.”

He can tell immediately tell he slipped up when Natasha raises a brow at the first name he used, but it was an open secret that Stephen had been spending an awful lot of time at the Stark household, so he didn’t feel the need to explain it further. Rhodey just shakes his head as he takes another sip of his coffee, apparently clearing the road for Scott Lang to pick up the conversation.

“Mr. Stark, do you think it would be okay for me to bring Cassie here sometimes? Sometimes I’m just busy and Maggie can’t take care of her, Hope’s busy too and babysitters are really expensive…-“

Tony never had a very high opinion of Scott, but he did have the skill that was needed to be called an Avenger and so he would be treated. But Scott with his (alive) girlfriend, cute daughter and (also very alive) ex-wife were like salt in an open wound ever since they returned from their last battle against Thanos and he rubs his temples, not wanting to snap at anyone when it’s in no one’s favour and that wouldn’t bring Pepper back, either.

“Yeah yeah, sure. Just make sure she stays within the safe zones and doesn’t walk around too much.”

Scott beams at him and his smile is almost disgustingly wide, making Tony immediately wish for his sunglasses back on his nose. He cleaned off some of the table a few minutes later to hum as he returned to practise, leaving the other four at the table. To avoid too much awkward silence, Tony decides to turn to Bruce with raised brows.

“You said you had a project for me?”

Chapter Text

 “… I’m not calling him for this.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s physically impossible.”

Bruce stares at him, because both of them knew that physics were just one of many sciences they had managed to override in the past together, so this was just a lousy excuse.

“… You said that about time travel as well. And then you went ahead and figured it out.”

They didn’t talk about that anymore, not after what happened. But Bruce seemed insistent, because he knew Tony could do this if he set his mind into it. Tony hated to admit he was right. Once the seed was planted in his mind, it was pretty much impossible to rip it out again.

“I can help you with the tests, but I will not ask him for you. This is your project.”

The other scientist looks at him and seems to calculate how far he could push it, but then decides to leave it and nods, takes the number from Tony and there’s the tenseness in his shoulders again. Using energies from other dimensions to fuel the mechanics on earth was such a big idea that it truly sounded downright ridiculous. Only that Bruce had taken into account that they had an expert for channelling energy from other dimensions through him, which just so happened to be the man that would probably sit at Tony’s dinner table tonight again as well.

“Thank you, Tony.”

“Zero problemo. I gotta get going soon anyways, so just tell me early enough if you’re starting tests so I can squeeze you into my tight schedule somewhere.”

Bruce was already lost in his laptop again and Tony takes the chance to grab his jacket and make a run for it, though he did end up stumbling upon Natasha in the hallway. He didn’t mind that as much as he would have with others. She lost someone for the sake of everyone else’s peace and happiness and in a sense, she was the only one who truly knew what it felt like.

“… How have you been?”

He decides to shrug, because what answer was she expecting, really?

“I’ve been able to function, I guess.”

There’s a hint of a smile, but not a genuine or even fond one. It’s that sad little smile that would be true if there wasn’t this load of grief weighting it down. She crosses her arms and looks outside over the training fields and Tony knows that look of nostalgia.

“It’s Cooper’s twelfth birthday tomorrow.”

To lose Clint was a heavy blow for everyone, but without a doubt was it the hardest for Natasha, who had known him the longest and had watched him die for everyone, herself included. Tony knew she had been looking after his family in his stead, spends her days off on their farm and helping Laura manage the children and housework. Which sounds an awful lot like…

“I don’t know what to get for him. What do boys like at that age?”

She looks back at him and Tony puts his hands forward as an immediate gesture of defence.

“Don’t ask me. I have a daughter, if you remember?”

This time her smile seemed more genuine, even as she walked him to his car and continued to stare off over the lands as Tony drove out the exit and back into the city centre.

[*]

He wasn’t too sure why his car (which he himself was driving, funnily enough) took him straight to the New York Sanctum, 177A Bleecker Street and he’s sure he must have typed that into the GPS in-between dissociating, because certainly he didn’t remember that by heart. If he did this just out of memory, the only reason for that would be because there was no parking spot big enough for his 2008 Lamborghini Murcielago LP640 around, but he parks right at the front door either way.

“Is there a password for this? Abracadabra?”

“If you did not have a child to raise, I would occasionally send you to another dimension, never to return upon this earth.”

Wong’s annoyed face appeared by the door frame as it’s opened for him and Tony supresses a comment about how that doesn’t even sound too bad as he raises a hand in greeting, stepping into that grand hell they had first found Bruce in after Thor shot him down from space again as a warning. His lip twitches a little.

“This is… unexpected.”

Stephen looks down at him over the hand railing from the top floor, not too sure what to think of the fact that Tony seemed to have reversed their roles on him.

“Thought I could stop by? You know, like you do almost every night when I’m conveniently making dinner for my family?”

Now the sorcerer just rolled his eyes while Wong left the room with a groan. It seemed like that was Tony’s favourite sentence to say lately, so he just sighs as he gestures Tony to take the stairs to the upper floor.

“And what made you think of stopping by so conveniently?”

Tony was chewing on the inside of his cheeks now, a little too nervously for his own taste, so he decides to turn around and pretend to be really interested in the nearest ‘magical’ artefact he could find, staring at it as if it had just offered him all the answers of the universe in return for his silence.

“… That’s a relic, Tony.”

“… I know that.”

He pauses again and it’s almost baffling how Stephen had managed to stay all those evenings and dinners without any real reason, considering how quick he was to ask when it was Tony who came to him. So he turns to face the sorcerer, who is still staring at him with a raised eyebrow, weighing his options before crumbling just a bit.

“Bruce is working on a new project. Has he messaged you yet?”

“He has. I told him it’s ridiculous.”

“I know, right? So have I!”

It’s obvious that Stephen wasn’t expecting that answer, because for them to agree was pretty much a miracle at this point. But Tony was more so interested in his reaction to that than his reaction to a disagreement, because he knows all of those already.

“I’m surprised that you would finally respect the powers past physics without trying to manipulate them for your causes.”

It’s a tight-lipped answer, because they both know he has done that before and even in an agreement, Stephen made it almost seem like he wanted to shove Tony off his side and onto the other, because in some way, this agreement certainly was… unsettling.

“I think of it more as a question of theory instead of respect.”

“Of course you would say that.”

“I did tell him that I would help him with any tests, though.”

Their eyes meet now, because Tony is pretty certain that Stephen thought this conversation was already over, but that just proves how little he would know him if that was the case. The cloak flutters around Stephen, detaches itself from him to fly around them, as if assessing them from the outside, causing the sorcerer to sigh once more.

“I should have known that you would be involved regardless. Good luck getting me to agree first.”

“You mean all those dinners at my house were just worth nothing?”

He can visibly see Stephen’s lips change into a thin line and even the cloak stills its floating. It’s not really a touchy subject, but it was an open secret Tony really wanted to unravel for himself as well. He wonders if things would be different between them if…

“I did my part. You cook, I do the dishes.”

Tony only now realizes how disgustingly domestic that sounds and shakes his head while leaning against the nearest wall, still not breaking off eye-contact. This was ridiculous and they both knew that, but it never stopped them from fighting like kindergarteners about it (as Wong likes to call it).

“… You owe me.”

Three little words and Tony didn’t mean to play this dirty, but it was the most efficient way. He could see the bare flinch under Stephen’s skin, the slightest widening of his pupils, jaw slacking just a little before he zips his lips closed again. The tension was almost palpable, but Tony was a master at withstanding awkward silence if it meant getting what he wants. Stephen’s hands were shaking, clasping and unclasping from fists like his muscles memorized in therapy before Kamar-Taj.

“… I thought you said it was impossible.”

“I said it was ridiculous. Impossible is not in my dictionary, Stephen.”

The cloak wraps itself around its master again and Tony doesn’t fail to notice how it almost embraces the sorcerer, like a blanket draped over a scared child. But he remains unmoving. He had been hard on Stephen many months after the fight against Thanos and it’s still so utterly easy to do, poking at the guilt he knows would always be stuck inside of him (even if Rhodey told him many times, It’s not his fault and you know that, Tony).

“It should be because you are impossible, Stark. But fine.”

The use of his last name was also dully noted, a sense of distance filling him as he steps away from the wall, nodding absently-minded at the same time.

“You owe it to Bruce, too. He was the one who built the machine that brought your ass back to life. He’ll text you the dates and procedures.”

Stephen didn’t seem to listen to him from that point on and suddenly this old house feels so incredibly stuffy (even more so than normally), so he starts walking down the stairs again without as much as looking back at the other hero, simply because he doesn’t know if he could stand seeing the expression he was most certainly wearing right now. He does a wave directed at no one in particular before shutting the door behind him, still never having taken a second look behind him.

Meanwhile the sorcerer was also standing at the top of the stairs, staring at the closed door before redirecting his gaze up to the weirdly-shaped glass ceiling, hands still trembling as he was gripping the wooden hand railing of the stairs.

“You can’t let him keep doing this to you.”

Wong’s voice was loud in the utter silence of the Sanctum, a booming kind of thought that Stephen had been trying to swat away more times than he could count. Even now, he just weakly shakes his head, only barely meeting Wong’s gaze, which was staring at him (or more like right through him). Half of him knew the other sorcerer was right, but his other half told him that he was not— that Tony’s behaviour was very much justified, that he had every right to blame Stephen and that Stephen owed him— possibly his entire life. It would only be fair, right? His life for the one he had taken.

“I took an oath to never extinguish a life. Whose fault would it be, if not mine?”

“Stephen, you said this yourself. There was only one chance.”

He knows that, he knows that Pepper’s sacrifice had been for the greater good. But he had looked Tony in the eye knowing his wife was going to die for him, for Stephen and for everyone else in this universe. But the truth remained that he let her die and it would haunt him forever.

“I’m heading to bed.”

He turns on his heels without sparing another look towards Wong, who would still be wearing the same look of pity and when he enters his bedroom, he feels like he’s gotten a taste of what Tony feels like every single day.

Chapter Text

The next time they see each other, it’s in the Avengers Headquarters and the mood was no less sour than it had been when Tony left the Sanctum. A few days had passed and Stephen had not shown up to single on any of them, which he pretended didn’t bother him at all (besides the fact that the house was weirdly quiet and he feels like a shittier father with every passing day). Bruce is excited beyond belief and not even Stephen’s displeased face could dampen his good mood, which was as unbearable and welcomed as it could possibly be at the same time.

“Tony, could you attach these?”

He passes two bands with wires attached and Tony looks at them as if he’s never seen medical equipment and that was his good right, because he did not have a PhD in medicine, unlike…

“One goes over the chest and the other over the abdomen.”

The engineer stares back at Stephen, who looks at him with the most unimpressed face he has been met with in a while before rolling his eyes and remembering that there was a reason he was called Doctor Strange. Tony then decides to shrug, because sure, he could do that. He was just about to unravel the bands and separate it from the mess of wires, as Bruce peeked at them again from behind his laptop.

“I do have to ask you to… free your torso though, Doctor. You know we would not get very accurate results otherwise.”

Tony proceeds to watch more things he has witness before— seeing how the cloak wraps itself a bit tighter around Stephen’s body and his hands ball up while he barely bats an eyelash— but his body language says more than Tony would maybe like to know. He waits for a brief moment, but he wasn’t completely heartless, so instead he puts the bands down again and turns to Bruce.

“Can you give us a minute?”

Bruce appears to catch the underlying meaning and nods after a moment, disappearing out of the lab and even going as far as waiting in the conference room nearby. Tony now stares the sorcerer down instead, hands crossed as he watched the fists come undone again.

“You should have known that, even if neurology was your main field.”

His comment goes uncommented as the cloak crawls around Stephen’s shoulder and lays on it like a scarf or more so a poncho, due to how big it was, reminding Tony of a fat cat for some reason. Stephen’s eyes look unfocused and he’s been staring at the drawers behind Tony for a solid minute now and due to the quietness of the room, Tony could even hear his heavy breathing.

“Stephen, are you okay?”

This behaviour was out of character, because Stephen was the kind of guy who could slowly be killed from the inside out and still put on the coldest face— Tony knows because so could he and their similarities were not something that could possibly be overlooked by anyone. But his pupils keep spinning in and out of focus and now Tony was starting to get really worried.

“Do you want to sit down? Want a water? A bourbon?”

He pushes the swivel chair from Bruce’s desk over to him and puts his hand on Stephen’s shoulder to guide him down into it, but the cloak was quick to slap it away, which immediately made him raise his hands up almost defensively. The sorcerer hushes a quick ‘Quiet down’ to his relic though and it settles back against him, Stephen avoiding his eye. There was no real reason for this, but Tony thinks he knows that look, this unreachable look combined with soft trembling and barely any response to name or touch— it happens often enough to him, too.

“Come on, talk to me. Can I get you something?”

The tilt of Stephen’s head told him: this much vulnerability could not be asked for him and Tony understands, because if their roles were reversed? He would be exactly the same. So instead he tries to do what Stephen has told him to, which was use his brain. Thus he gets up from where he was kneeling and walks to the big closet in the back of the lab, where he finds a couple of emergency kits and a couple of space blankets. Going with the thought that he won’t find anything better, he takes one of the blankets and walks back to Stephen’s side, ripping it open and draping it over him as quickly as he could with a sigh, noticing only the cloak’s offended movement as it felt the fabric fall down on it. It didn’t just shove it off completely though, so it couldn’t be too wrong, right?

“This better?”

Stephen was finally looking at him, light eyes shining in the room before he grasps the edge of the blanket and Tony also notes that Stephen’s hands have stopped shaking as he does, pulling it more of his shoulders like a coat. There’s a moment of silence until he watches the sorcerer exhale loudly, leaning back against the desk behind him (also an obvious meditation technique).

“Yes. Thank you.”

A smile steals itself onto Tony’s lips as he slaps Stephen’s knee a bit too forcefully compared to what would be normally encouraging (which really made him feel like a father now), tilting up his chin to look at the sorcerer with a chuckle.

“Does that mean you’re doing all of tonight’s dinner? Cooking and dishes?”

Stephen snorted a bit, almost kicking Tony in the shin as he leans back further, but that’s already a progress from where they were a few minutes ago. It’s still vulnerable, but for once Tony doesn’t feel the need to poke or pick at old wounds. He sits on the floor instead, leans back against the drawer behind him and stares at the sorcerer, who was staring at the ceiling in turn.

“Alright.”

There’s a trace of a smile as he answers and Tony stretched his legs out a little more, their shoes touching at the edges without them really noticing. He had almost forgotten that they weren’t in the privacy of homes, but rather in his friend’s laboratory, but because he doesn’t know the extent of Stephen’s condition or what exactly made him freak out, he decides they should move this to another date instead.

“Great, I’ll text Banner and then we can do grocery shopping instead. Happy will bring Morgan home soon anyways, so I gotta be there to open the door.”

He’s not sure if that was thankfulness twinkling in Stephen’s eyes, but it was certainly some sort of relief and that was good enough for him. So he texts Bruce to say that they’re leaving for the day (so he won’t have to stay in that dusty conference room forever) and groans as he tries to pull himself onto his feet again, turning around to catch Stephen’s eye.

“You coming or what?”

“You’re obnoxious, has anyone ever told you that?”

But still the sorcerer slowly sheds the blanket, but it’s careful and almost hesitant, so Tony lets him take his time while watching him fold it up. Then he’s already wearing his sling ring again and Tony has come to know that this is what it’s called, so he raises an eyebrow at it instead of responding to the comeback.

“I’m here by car, like normal people. I can’t just leave without it. So why don’t we act like we’re not Harry Potter’s godparents for once and just take the car?”

Tony can also immediately tell that Stephen is very much not into this idea, because he shakes his head as he opens a portal to Tony’s living room while Tony swears he can see a hint of a smirk on that face.

“Then you go do your grocery shopping and be normal, I’ll open the door for your daughter.”

“Oh yeah, because that went down amazing last time.”

“Well, is Happy a middle-aged, married, presumably heterosexual woman with extremely hetero-normative views?”

“… Alright, fine. But tell Morgan to do her homework before I get back.”

Stephen just nods as if he’s had the last laugh in this conversation and Tony hates it when he does that (which he is also very sure Stephen knows) before disappearing through the circle, leaving behind only a few sparks on the floor while the engineer was stomping out in both accomplishment and frustration alike, for whatever reason that may be. All he knows now is that he’s got the upper hand because he can now pick whatever he wants cooked for himself while spending time with his daughter for once and that was probably one of the few things that truly made him smile nowadays— all while letting the air run through his hair as he drove away from the compound again.

Chapter Text

This was an even better idea than Tony had first thought. Because now he’s sitting on the couch with his daughter, doing a terrible job at braiding her hair while he hears the sizzling of meat in the kitchen. It was genuinely relaxing, even as Morgan touched the messy braid and told him it wasn’t pretty enough and he had to laugh about her pout.

“Food is almost ready…— What is that mess?”

“I tried braiding Morgan’s hair, don’t you like it?”

“It looks frankly terrible.”

Tony put a hand over his heart, pretending to be hurt by the (sadly quite true) statement as he watched Stephen dry off his shaking hands and raise an eyebrow at the questionable piece.

“Well, I’m sure you can do better, Mr. Dumbledore?”

Stephen slaps him over the shoulder with the towel as he kneels down and begins to untie the mess of hair while the cloak still hovers over them, as if curious. Morgan just let him, she was already happy enough that Stephen was here again after almost a week had passed without him coming over and that they were now able to spend time together again.

“Watch after the filets for me while I fix up your mess.”

Tony would protest if his daughter didn’t look positively giddy as Stephen’s shaky fingers took hold of her (now already very) long hair, testing it for knots after he threw the towel at Tony to catch, not even minding him once more. So he does as he’s told, grumbling under his breath as he sees the very well-done filets and decides to flip them once more, checking around for what else Stephen had decided to cook for them tonight. Potatoes and some broccoli, huh? A classic, but Morgan wasn’t going to like it, but he decided it’d be for the best to let Stephen find out about that himself as he put the lid back on the steamed food.

“All done.”

And there it was, a beautiful french braid on his daughter’s head, who was beaming up at him and now Tony is just staring in awe, trying to piece together how Stephen could possibly succeed at something like this, before getting his answer either way.

“Some people liked to keep their hair long at Kamar-Taj, mostly superstition or similar relations to belief. It’s really simple once you understand the techniques.”

“So you mean to tell me you were Rapunzel at some point in your life?”

There’s a twitch in Stephen’s lips, even more so as Morgan makes big eyes up at him, because (as Tony knows very well) Rapunzel was one of her favourite Disney Princesses, hence why her expression grew brighter with every second while awaiting his answer.

“Not me, but some people I know. Wong wore it long before shaving it off, for example.”

Tony had to burst out into a smile when the image of a long-haired Wong materialized in his head, shaking it off as he flipped the filets a final time before deciding to take them off the stove. On the way there he almost burned Stephen, who was trying to get to a drawer next to the sink in order to get their cutlery out, hissing as he almost dropped the pan.

“You couldn’t even afford to be Rapunzel, I already stumble over you as you are.”

“Well, I’m taller than you. So logically, it makes you more likely to be blind than anything.”

The smirk didn’t miss him and it’s the one thing Tony has cursed for the entire time he has known the sorcerer— that without his suit, he was about three inches smaller than him. Stephen makes a point of it when he straightens his back as soon as he’s gotten out knives and forks from the drawer, just staring down at him with that look of superiority that Tony knows too well.

“Everyone has to compensate for shortcomings with something else, right?”

Now Stephen looks positively out of it, making Tony break out into a wheeze as he sees the look on his face, amazed by his own godly word-play in the situation, trying hard not to break anything as he leans back against the counter to wipe a small tear. He catches Stephen walking off just in time to hear him mutter ‘You truly are impossible’ as Tony lets out another chuckle before gathering their plates and heading to the table as well, feeling more homely and at ease than he has done in a very long time (and to his surprise, Morgan didn’t even complain about the broccoli).

[*]

Even to bed, she goes without a complaint and Tony’s suspicious, but also not complaining about it. And afterwards, he doesn’t even feel like having wine or going to sleep— he’s apparently still buzzing and full of life, unlike Stephen— who looked very worn-out and exhausted. Once they reach the living room and it would normally be the moment for Stephen to take his leave, Tony decides to break the silence first.

“What… was that today? At the lab?”

There it goes again, Stephen’s body tensing up again, but this time he catches Tony’s eye directly instead of adverting his gaze. His jaw muscles are furiously working under the skin (another thing Tony was beginning to notice whenever the sorcerer was thinking), apparently trying to decided how much (or if any) information should be revealed, but with the atmosphere of the night, Tony felt quite positive about the outcome.

“I can pour you a glass of wine, if that helps?”

He can see that Stephen was tempted to agree and the fact that he did only made it clear how nerve-rattling this was for him, so Tony decided not to push too much and just poured a glass, having a small one himself simply out of decency. The sorcerer had already sat himself down on the couch and Tony just wordlessly sits down next to him, passing the glass while spending a moment thinking back to how the last time they had sat here with a glass of wine, it had felt just as domestic as it does now, but somehow this was something more… intimate.

“I’m not even sure why you’re asking. I’m sure you’re familiar with my past already, given your very detailed dossiers on every active superhero.”

“Sure, I am. But the dossiers tell me the superficial stuff. This doesn’t really seem superficial.”

The slight twist of Stephen’s lips wasn’t a smile, it was more so a display of pain and Tony feels bad for forcing this out of him (in a way), but then again— he was just waiting, still. Waiting for Stephen to catch his breath and decide when he’s ready. And upon a flash of genius, he reaches over and grabs the fluffy blanket Morgan likes to sit on when on the couch, draping it over the sorcerer once more and now it’s ridiculous how domestic it felt (but he didn’t mind as much as he thought he would).

“Funnily enough, it is very much superficial, actually.”

The sorcerer didn’t seem to be freaking out as he spoke, so Tony just let him continue, raising a brow in question because surely there was nothing funny about this.

“You certainly know about my accident, the extent of my injuries. There was just… some sloppy fixing-up, I would call it. My torso especially is still not very… aesthetically pleasing, if you will.”

So it really was superficial, huh. He guesses it got to even the best of them, but Tony would lie if he said he didn’t have the same problem when he first assessed his own chest after everything that happened in Afghanistan— it wasn’t as bad now, but it’s still there and always will be. He isn’t too sure what to say in response, so he takes a sip of his wine as he watches Stephen do the same.

“Me and Bruce aren’t really judging. Like, have you seen him? He’s literally fused with a giant green monster and yet no one is picking on him. … At least not for that.”

He’s terrible at this, but it was his best shot at maybe getting Stephen to still go along with the procedures, because he knows this was important to Bruce. He is also aware that him and Bruce were very likely not the problem, more so Stephen’s own mental block, which Tony was very familiar with as well.

“Otherwise we could… like change you into a hospital gown or something? You can attach the bands yourself, right? I’m sure they crammed that into medical school somewhere.”

“… I guess so.”

The hint of… amazement (maybe) in Stephen’s voice didn’t pass him, not even as he leaned back a bit further, meeting the sorcerer’s eyes, who didn’t look impossibly annoyed or indifferent for once. He had this look of gratefulness in his eyes, maybe even surprise? Tony had a hard time placing it, not really realizing how much he was staring.

“Is there something on my face?”

“… Yeah, awesome facial hair.”

Now Stephen just groans in reply, taking another awfully big gulp of wine (which Tony almost assumed to be offensive) as he stares out the dark window, onto the lake the house was built next to as Tony curiously followed his gaze. He’s not too sure what Stephen was thinking, but he also didn’t really mind not knowing for once. Instead, he says something so uncharacteristically emotional that he wants to blame the alcohol almost immediately.

“Thank you for the dinner tonight.”

Stephen’s brow raises quicker than Tony registered the meaning of his words, because if he remembered right, Tony had thanked him maybe once before, so this was quite new. Normally it was just self-explanatory almost or at least they both pretended to know the explanation was something (only that it was only for them and not anyone else).

“You’re welcome.”

It almost feels sophisticated how they were able to have a polite exchange of words without it blowing up in their face, causing it to be evident how unusual it was for both of them. So Tony decides to walk off the edge again, even if just to normalize (in their terms) their conversation again.

“Are your hands always this jittery, too?”

“Not always. Most times, I just channel magic through them, but sometimes it’s too draining and I just… use them like this.”

That reminds Tony of the therapy Rhodey mentioned and he perks up a bit, because this was very certainly also important for Bruce’s study (all good excuses for the moment), which is why he puts his glass aside and looks at the sorcerer with the most intent eyes he could muster up.

“Show me?”

He’s forgotten how many raised eyebrows he’s gotten from the former neurosurgeon today, but he’s just added another to the list. And once more, he seems quite reluctant, but then decides to give in and roll his sleeves up to reveal his hands, scarred and lined with white tissue where the skin had fused back together after many weeks, as Tony knew from his medical record. Stephen holds out his hands and it’s as if his veins illuminate once he begins, stilling the impossibly shaky palms and holding them almost inhumanely still mid-air.

Out of the most humane of his curiosity, Tony brings his own hands up, carefully turns them to have both palms up while lifting them to Stephen’s, his fingertips brushing over a bumpy knuckle and it’s enough to send a spark of energy right into his system, frizzing at its end and leaving his fingertip hurting, his body jerking back on instinctive reaction. Stephen opens one eye to look at him and even the single eye tells him off enough, but Tony has never been one to not want to play with fire, even after having been burnt as a warning. As he tries a second time, his body is more prepared as he presses his hands up into the back of Stephen’s own hands gently, feels the fizzing in his entire system again and it’s truly electrifying— in a moment of utter amazement, his eyes find Stephen’s, who was now looking right back at him.

He doesn’t want to say anything, because he’s sure that he would destroy this moment, which Tony really could only describe as magical. But then Stephen suddenly turns his hands and presses their palms together, his outer fingers curling around the edges of Tony’s hands, just letting the concentration of this… energy rise even higher. Even as it began to hurt, Tony didn’t pull away. He attempted to place this feeling, this energy and all of this while Stephen just channelled the mystical energy through his palms, little by little as to not hurt his unprepared hands too badly.

“Tony, I…—“

He perks up right in the moment in which Stephen’s hands grow limp and he falls to the side, back against the sofa, leaving Tony to blink in surprise before he’s quick to reach over and check for a pulse. Luckily enough, it was present and the sorcerer’s breathing was regular too, so that means he most-likely passed out from exhaustion. The engineer smiles almost fondly as he watches him sleep, before deciding to carry Stephen upstairs so he could rest in Tony’s bed. He struggled with getting him up the stairs, but then he’s tucked him in (the cloak finally let go, thank god) and closes the door with another smile. Tony decided it was a bit early for him to sleep, so he walks back down to his basement again to fix another motor he bought a week ago, humming a small tune from the 80’s as he got to work, finding that he felt weirdly warm, almost soft inside (but that was certainly just caused by the heat the motor was giving off and not something else).

Chapter Text

Days pass like this without much happening— Stephen continues to come over for dinner, often ditches it to braid Morgan’s hair instead (because she now learned that your hair becomes wavy if you leave it in a braid overnight) and they were finally able to start the first few tests. It had taken a while to get to this point, but they just decided to let Stephen figure out what works best for him and Tony has never been more thankful for a compassionate friend like Bruce. He makes working easier and more bearable for both Tony and Stephen, acting as a gentle balance between them even when they do happen to get into each other’s hair during the trial and error of their examinations.

Today was no different. Stephen had tended to many of his duties earlier in the day, thus he was now (what Tony called ‘normal’) grocery shopping, because if it’s already his turn, he might as well be one step ahead and choose what he could be cooking. He catches himself thinking about how easy it could be just to steal some things without anyone really noticing, but of course that would be abuse of power (though especially Wong knows that moral ground hasn’t always been there). Instead he thinks about what could work for them and what Morgan would like to have or would even have, because it’s now become normal for her to have her picky days.

He decides to make tuna for himself and Tony and picked up a packet of fish sticks for Morgan, because there was no way that not everything was a competition and impressing Tony with his food was still a very real challenge Stephen had set for himself. Deciding he’d check Tony’s fridge to check for side-dish options, he opens a portal to pull the fridge open really quickly, groaning as he finds it almost empty and thus deciding he would just do potatoes again— they were nutritious and Morgan likes them, so he loads up on that too before making his way to pay, then quickly stepping through, over to the Stark household.

And immediately, just by Tony’s concerned face, he can tell that something is not the way it should be. There’s always a sense of desperation when the lines on the engineer’s forehead align like that and Stephen is well-aware how ridiculous he must look with his bag of groceries but Tony barely looks up as he steps out.

“What’s the matter?”

Tony shakes his head, hand fluffing through his beard in thought (another thing he always did when something was on his mind), but seemingly refusing to answer, so Stephen makes his way to the kitchen to store the food away.

“Where is Morgan?”

“… She’s upstairs.”

That was an answer, but it still isn’t helpful. Stephen sighs because sometimes he genuinely doesn’t understand why he goes through the trouble, but at the same time, the nagging guilt is ever-present and so he searches for Tony’s eye as he’s sorting through the groceries.

“Should I get her?”

Morgan is the best way to calm Tony down, Stephen has overserved over time (that and combing through his hair with gentle fingers, but Stephen sure as hell wasn’t going to just do that right now), so he folds his arms while waiting for a reply. Tony groans as he sits down on a chair at the table, the balls of his palms rubbing over his eyes.

“We had a small argument earlier and now she refuses to come out of her room.”

So that’s what’s going on. Stephen truly picked exactly the right moment to come over. But this still doesn’t help much, since he was still missing the context of it all.

“Over what?”

“There’s a parents’ visitation day tomorrow at school and I don’t have time to go. CEO bullshit I wish I could cancel.”

Stephen knows that Tony had taken on Pepper’s job after her death again, simply because he trusts no one else to do it and barely even lets assistants do anything around the office out of sheer paranoia. It was stressful and the sorcerer had always deemed it to be Tony’s coping mechanism and his way of not wanting Pepper’s achievements go to waste, but now it was becoming a conflict. So he nods, not entirely sure what he should say, because this wasn’t really his business— even if the many hours he had already spent in this household might say otherwise, but Morgan was still Tony’s child.

“I mean… I can attend in your stead if Morgan would be happier with that. Though I’m not…—“

The fast movement with which Tony turns back around shut him up out of instinct, just staring right at him, almost through him. He’s still resting his fist against his chin, probably debating what Stephen just proposed while not taking his eyes off him.

“You would do that?”

“Yes, but I’m not her father. I don’t know if that is allowed.”

“I’m at the top of the list of Forbes Magazine’s Richest Men, of course that’s allowed.”

If this had been more morally grey, Stephen would have narrowed his eyes, but now he just sighs and decides it’d be a perfect idea to start boiling up a few potatoes, trying to ignore the happy laugh such a simple thing could paint on Tony’s face as he watched him disappear with his phone in his hand, shaking his own head at the potatoes while trying to supress a smile of his own.

[*]

When Stephen arrived at the school that day about a week after this conversation, Stephen instantly starts regretting it. Not because he (normally) dislikes small children, but because Tony really didn’t know how much was too much.

“Please don’t worry, Mr. Strange. As Mr. Stark’s fiancé, rest assured that you can enjoy the day just like all the other parents.”

He had called Tony twice now, but because he has some brain of his own, he could already very easily tell what narrative Tony had spun around them here— and he was not having it. Or at least he didn’t want to, but what other choice did he have when (his apparently soon-to-be husband) Tony Stark made a very generous donation to get him in here for his daughter’s sake?

“Thank you very much.”

Stephen was also already hating on this bizarrely large grin this teacher was wearing as he begins to lead him and Morgan down the hall into the school’s theatre, where the welcoming speech was about to be held. Morgan didn’t really seem to understand what her teacher just called Stephen and just smiles as she’s holding onto Stephen’s hand, looking pretty excited for the day. Meanwhile Stephen was trying hard not to let anger get to his head and instead let Morgan enjoy her day, because only when they enter the big hall full of parents (mainly mothers), does it hit him that she could have had Pepper here with her if it hadn’t been for…—

“Where did you leave Cloakie, Stephen?”

Morgan’s innocently blinking eyes look up at him and he’s glad to be drawn out of his morbid thoughts, keeping her close as they enter into the flock of people, sighing because he hates crowds: they remind him too much of charity events he used to attend with too much vile arrogance inside of him. He rubs his temples while Morgan holds onto the leg of his pants, distracted by her principal’s speech while Stephen tried to piece together how Tony really did just lose the last of his mind.

[7:47 AM / from Stephen]: Did you seriously tell people we are engaged?

[7:47 AM / from Stephen]: That is the dumbest story you could possibly have come up with.

[8:23 AM / from Tony]: it’s brilliant and 2019 calm down

[8:25 AM / from Tony]: hetero-normative views was it?

[8:39 AM / from Stephen]: I will pray to the Vishanti that you accidentally transfer yourself to another dimension I don’t know of under mysterious circumstances.

[8:42 AM / from Tony]: let’s hope we aren’t married by then or u’d run into some legal problems w/ that ;)

Stephen is now sitting in the middle of a biology class and when they are taught about lungs and how they function, all he can think about is how he would love to strangle the air out of someone’s particular lungs. But instead he finds himself watching Morgan closely, who doesn’t seem too interested in the subject, but Stephen also knows she’s always been quite shy— he knows that because it had taken her a while to open up to him, too. But once she opens up, she also blossoms and Stephen can’t help but smile a little as he watches her slowly put up her hand to answer a question, a hint of pride filling him.

[*]

The day doesn’t go too bad otherwise, he just has to avoid talking to too many parents (simply because he refuses to introduce himself as Tony Stark’s fiancé), which goes really well, all in all. He can tell apart the single mothers very quickly and one of them was already trying to invite him and Morgan over for playing, apparently unknowing that he wasn’t her father and he is really trying his hardest to shake her off as Morgan suddenly lets go of his hand and runs off.

“Pumpkin!”

And there is Tony, stepping out of his Ferrari and immediately catching his daughter in his arms, leaving Stephen even more exposed than he was before, especially because the woman was now looking at him with eyes grander than saucers.

“Stephen! I missed you so, darling!”

This is not the first time he wants to send Tony Stark to another dimension without ever bringing him back to earth, but it was the first time this want borders on desperation. He’s just glaring at the engineer, who is still wearing his sunglasses and steps close only to wrap his arm around Stephen’s waist and if Stephen didn’t know better, he would punch the other hero right between the eyes, but they had an image to maintain and Tony could be lucky he has a cute daughter that deserves the world, so he doesn’t bristle up (too much) at the touch. Meanwhile he’s also concerned that the woman in front of them would have a heart attack every minute now.

“I’m so sorry to steal him away, but we have to head home now. Come on, darling.”

Stephen really does hate Tony Stark with every fibre of his being, everything inside of him ruffling up against the way Tony tugged him along by the waist, almost (frighteningly) casual and the smile he shoots up at the sorcerer was almost believable until he hears him grit out ‘Put your arm around my shoulders’ through his smiling teeth. He does as he’s told and Tony takes a hold of Morgan’s hand again to more or less drag them back to the car, where Happy was standing just as puzzled as Stephen felt. Then Tony helps his daughter into the car before turning to face Stephen, still having that annoyingly tight grip on his waist and Stephen really wishes the title of Sorcerer Supreme came with laser eyes.

“Kiss me.”

“… Excuse me, what?”

“C’mon, it doesn’t look real otherwise.”

The sorcerer really hopes that his outrage is visible on his face, because he’s very certain he’s having a fever dream right now, but Tony had never looked more serious in his entire life, not easing his grip even as Stephen tried to get out of it, catching the twinkle in the engineer’s eyes— he was enjoying this!

“In your dreams. This whole cover-up was already bad enough.”

“Hm, I could bet you enjoyed the royalty treatment only Tony Stark’s significant other gets, though.”

Stephen rolls his eyes and just out of complete spite, he opens a small portal under Tony’s feet, watching him gasp as he starts to fall, enticing a laugh from Stephen as he grasped Tony’s arm tightly, catching him and quickly pulling him back on his feet after. That seemed to have ruffled his feathers enough though, staring back at the sorcerer like a wet poodle, so Stephen just snorts as he walks around Tony to the other side of the car, quickly disappearing through another portal back to the Sanctum. In the silence of the entrance hall, he can hear his heart pound in his throat, something he hadn’t even noticed before— surely that was just due to the tiring day, right?

Chapter Text

Wong is staring at him, he notices after a while. They were just cleaning up on some intergalactic monsters that somehow found their way onto earth, attacking random civilians in a small town in Germany, when the other sorcerer finally decides to break his silence.

“So, you and Stark. Where do you see that heading?”

Stephen glares at him mid-spell, knowing exactly what this conversation would turn out to be about, but still lands a good punch when he turns back to their business, feeling unease crawl up his back again, just like after he returned back to the Sanctum after Tony’s antics at Morgan’s school. He has never been one to deal with feelings well, tending to outbursts and hurting others when at his most vulnerable.

“Well, he asked me to kiss him yesterday, if that counts for anything.”

“… Is that a tasteless joke?”

“I wish.”

He punches the next creature with a bit more force than maybe necessary (but you could never be sure enough with these anyways), before looking up at Wong again— who looked positively terrified. Stephen would almost feel bad for planting that concept in his mind had it not been so very real.

“… Did you do it?”

“Of course not!”

That answer was more defensive than he’d have liked. Especially because Wong looked rather unconvinced, which brought entirely new concerns to life, like why in the world the other sorcerer would ever deem him able to do something like that. He remains silent after that though and it’s even worse now because it’s left brewing in his mind— but the easy answer was that Tony Stark just wanted to fuck with him. Not in the literal sense (probably?) but Tony’s favourite hobby was getting a rise out of Stephen and basically everyone else in his life, so this was probably just another stunt like that.

“The way you two are playing house would indicate otherwise, though.”

They have only just finished up, catching no other sightings of alien monsters, so Stephen can stare as pointedly into Wong’s direction as he wanted to, not appreciating the commentary.

“We are not playing house.”

“You are. It’s useless trying to deny it when you head over for dinner almost every evening.”

“… You know that is not because I enjoy his company.”

Wong raises a single eyebrow in disbelief, clearly sceptical as he cleaned his hands on his robes, wiping some purple blood off his sling ring. Stephen could feel his own shoulders tense again, involuntarily but it was there and he hates this reaction.

“Guilt can break someone, change someone. But everything is limited, as we both know.”

Wong looks at him with those eyes again— profound and sometimes Stephen can’t even really place what they are trying to tell him, as it is the case right now.

“He is annoying beyond belief, but he needs every bit of support he can get.”

“Stephen, for someone who can supposedly see the vast span of the universe, you are blind in your ignorance... Or obliviousness.”

Wong disappears through a portal back to Kamar-Taj after that and it leaves Stephen with his thoughts back on the streets of a nameless town outside of Munich, where barely anyone had even taken notice of their fight just now. A few sheep bleat on a field nearby, covered in a bit of mist and it’s been a while since Stephen had felt his disconnected from his own life. This was peaceful— maybe they should consider moving a Sanctum to here instead.

But Wong’s words still weigh heavily on his mind. If Wong was insinuating that Stephen was in love with Tony Stark, he better not waste another thought on this. He has come to enjoy Tony’s companionship more than he did in the past, has shared… almost uncomfortably intimate moments with him, but that was all there is to it. That was simply bound to happen when you share such a small space for so long. Stephen owed it to this little family, to a selfless father and his brilliant daughter that lost their loving wife and mother. He could never replace her, but he knows he would die trying— it was the least he could do.

[*]

Dinner that night was… loud. Tony had decided that it’d be a perfect time to invite Peter and May over for dinner and Stephen had to admit that May is an incredible woman. Peter and Morgan scream as if they are the same age and it’s amazing to see Morgan come out of her shell when Peter comes around, Tony and May talking over a glass of wine and Stephen feels very much out of place. Tony is the only one who seems to notice, nudges him with his knee and offers him the glass of wine he’d been chugging and Stephen suddenly feels seen (and it feels better than he would have thought).

“You can have that glass, if you want. I’ll get myself a new one.”

That ultimately left Stephen to fill the conversational void between him and May, but thankfully she was a much better talker than he was. She talks a lot about Peter, but that is what is to be expected from parents, Tony was no different in that regard.

“Tony mentioned you got to see Morgan in action at her school yesterday, how was it? I wish Peter’s school offered that as well.”

“Aunt May!”

Peter does the typical teenage-groan while hiding his face in his hands and Stephen is grateful to not live at home anymore. May laughs and it’s very free-spirited in a way that the sorcerer appreciates, taking a moment to think as his eyes wander to Tony, who was humming while pouring a glass in the back of the kitchen.

“I did. Morgan is more reserved in school than she is here, but I guess that is to be expected. She doesn’t raise her hand too often, but when she does, she always answers correctly.”

“Of course she does, who do you think gave her that beautiful brain?”

Tony lets himself fall on the seat next to him again, but Stephen can see from the small puff of his chest that he’s proud of his daughter and for once, he has every reason to be filled with pride. When he first met Tony, he certainly would have pitied every child that would have been raised by him, but now? He could tell that Morgan could be incredibly thankful to have a father like Tony, who treats her like his whole world, even when stressed with a full-time job as CEO of Stark Industries and (more of) a part-time job as Iron Man, saviour of the material world.

“She is all your best qualities, I agree.”

“Me too.”

It’s exceptional, the dreamy look on Tony’s face, so utterly filled with pride and love for his one and only daughter (as well as them agreeing for once) and Stephen has taken a liking on this humbled part of him. It shows more than he may ever know. Afterwards, Tony asks him more about Morgan’s day and the sorcerer catches himself thinking about how much they sound like parents, talking about their child’s performance at school over a glass of red wine and the way May just smiles at her own glass makes him the slightest bit more hyper-aware— at least until Tony steals a sip from his glass after having downed his own one and Stephen breaks out into complaint once more.

[*]

Once more, it’s just the two of them cleaning up the kitchen— May and Peter have left a while ago, after which Tony had tucked Morgan in and now they were battling the dishes together. The hot water was almost blistering on Stephen’s sensitive hands, but he had stopped minding it months ago. It’s self-deprecation at its finest, atoning in the most senseless of ways.

“Wow, slow down there, buddy! That water is way too hot. Almost like myself, you could say.”

Yet in a moment of carelessness, he let Tony hold a plate under the water and he’s pretty sure that he needs to open a portal to the Dark Dimension to disappear forever now, because the engineer has turned the water off and taken the plate from him, eyes concerned and suspicious alike. Stephen is left stupidly useless, his cloak fluttering as if it senses the distress it installed within him as Tony places the plate aside and takes a hold of his hands so awfully gentle that he’s sure his breathing stops and the Time Stone is playing tricks on him…—

“So is this why you always refuse to use my hand-made and automated dishwasher?”

Stephen found that they have a very ‘live and let live’-kind of relation. They don’t ask questions to not have to answer them, but Tony was breaking this pattern right now and Stephen hates it when routines are broken, it unsettles him. But Tony is still holding his hands and he’s so careful, just lets them rest on his own without gripping them so it would hurt him (and right now, Stephen is sure even this small touch could be enough to break him).

“I’m very old-school. I don’t fancy electronics of the new age too much.”

And when they do answer questions, it’s always a game of dodgeball. But Tony is holding his hands prisoner and he can’t bring himself to pull away, not when Tony isn’t being an arrogant asshole for once in his life and the concern sounds genuine, caring in a way that Stephen hasn’t heard anyone speak to him in years (even if just as an underlying tone).

“Too bad this is my household and everything here is automated, so it looks like you will have to get used to it.”

The smirk on Tony’s face doesn’t leave and neither do his hands, bordering on almost awkward now if Stephen weren’t captivated by the sheer absurdity of Tony’s caring hold, even as the engineer starts inspecting them, as if considering treating them. There’s an edge to this, an edge of danger, a risk of falling. Falling into something he wasn’t prepared for, something he isn’t sure he will ever be ready for. But when Tony brings their joined hands under cold water to ease the burns, not letting go even when their hands become numb, he might just consider giving in to this… whatever this may turn out to be.

Chapter Text

Tony has been alone very often in all the chronology of his life. When his parents died, it was a bottomless pit of depression he never thought he could recover from. Somehow though, he did— but only to discover that life was an endless cycle of ups and downs and that achieving timeless peace would never be a realistic thing. Losing Pepper had taken a sort of completion and happiness from him, something he never thought he would truly have and it really turned out to be too good to be true. He has more money than anyone could ever dream of, the best daughter in the world and friends who support him through it all. It eases the strain, but it doesn’t take it all away (it never could).

But Stephen? It’s strange (literally, ha) how Tony hates him for what he did and couldn’t possibly blame him at the same time, not the Stephen that knows every single song that was released in all of the 80s’ alphabetically by heart, not the Stephen that helps him cook every night for his daughter is there whenever Tony needs him (sometimes without even a call). He has become a steady pillar of support in Tony’s life, even if it’s just with little things.

It’s obvious that he feels the guilt rest heavy on him and Tony admits that he hasn’t always been easy on him— in the beginning, he used to not want to see Stephen ever again. But when it became clear that this was the one option, the only option they had to save everyone, it became harder to focus all his anger on the other hero. Though feeling anger is always easier than living through the grief that inevitably comes afterwards, but eventually, he couldn’t keep on blaming Stephen for everything. He knows Pepper would not have wanted that, because she chose to sacrifice herself for Tony, Morgan and everybody else she loved. Rather on the flip-side, she would have probably been almost insulted that Tony weighs her sacrifice as a mistake. She told him that she knew they were going to be okay, but never could he have imagined how hard it would be, not in fourteen million years.

“Your coffee is getting cold. Not that it matters, because it’s unhealthy anyways.”

Tony’s eyes wander up to meet Stephen’s skeptical ones and out of spite (as they always do), he starts chugging the only lukewarm coffee on the table, setting it down once it was empty and eliciting one of those hearty sighs he likes so much from Stephen.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t get your medical PhD like this too.”

The sorcerer just shakes his head (because who drinks coffee during a movie night?). But he allows the argument to settle instead of replying to it, looking at his own cocktail that he had only taken because Tony insisted on it. Alcohol reminds him of the past, so he doesn’t like it too much either way.

“I always watch Grey’s Anatomy on Friday’s. I bet you love that show.”

“It’s medically inaccurate, of course, but the entertainment value is very much existent. I hope you’re caught up with all the seasons or you might be due for a rough wake-up call.”

“I watch this weekly, of course I’m up to date. Move over.”

Stephen cannot believe Tony Stark has just turned movie night into series night, with one of the only few shows he actually watches consistently. It’s already slightly suspicious that exactly tonight, Morgan was sleeping over at the Parker household for no apparent reason, but Stephen wouldn’t meddle into Tony’s affair or parenting. So instead, he moves over as he’s told and lets the cloak fold over him like a comfortable blanket, a tendency it had come to develop and Stephen to enjoy over time, so he just yielded. It’s not as awkward as Stephen thought it would be, but Tony was just as talkative as he imagined he would be (especially because Stephen’s sure he’s tipsy now) and the sorcerer really hoped an enemy would tear out this man’s vocal cords one day.

“Why did they even get married if they don’t even…—“

“Will you shut up and try listening for once?”

Tony looks over at Stephen, feeling offended by even the insinuation that his commentary wasn’t absolutely needed and glorious, raising a familiar eyebrow back at the sorcerer. From this angle (aka side-profile) combined with the pale light from the very big TV, Tony would almost call that stupidly smug face handsome. Only almost, though.

“Make me.”

Tony is aware he should not have had drinks before this— but now he’s bumping up his caffeine with this coffee as well and that is always an awful combination, making him as slow and hyper-active as it was humanly possible at the same time, hands relaxed and yet sticky with sweat. He’s aware how that sounds coming out of his (only slightly) drunk mouth, even more so when he sees the confused look reflected in the other hero’s eyes.

“C’mon, I’m sure you have a magic trick or something like that up your sleeve for that.”

When Tony’s torso sways and he feels a distinct pull (was that the damn cloak—), he suddenly looks rattled out of his composure, even more so when he sees the change of emotion on Stephen’s face and the fabric of the cloak snaking around his waist.

“… Is that your way of trying to get a kiss out of me again?”

Tony now suddenly knows why his playboy days have reaped such a success rate and that’s because arrogance is damned attractive on even the worst people in the right moment and Stephen was no exception. It’s different from how he usually was, but Stephen had been drinking wine too, so it was most likely liquor courage speaking right now, which almost let him forget how very exposed that statement left him.

“… Well, you have yet to rise to the challenge.”

Even drunk Tony is very well-aware that tapping into his competitive nerve is one of the most effective ways to rope Stephen into what he wants, but his hands shake a little anyways, though still not as bad as Stephen’s. The look the sorcerer is wearing is unreadable, but if Tony had to put a label on it, he would call it calculating. The TV had become background noise at this point, because all Tony could focus on was the intense tension that was growing by the second, the longer Stephen let him await a reply. This wasn’t even so serious, just a small joke—

But suddenly, a warm mouth covers his own, the fabric around his waist strings a bit tighter and it’s not nearly as surprising and nerve-wrecking as Tony remembers kissing, it smells of old red wine and feels like scruffy facial hair and Tony realizes too late that he’s so lost in it that he even forgets to close his eyes. He responds as eagerly and clumsily as a teenage virgin, but luckily alcohol is the best way to get the shamelessness to kick in— not that he had much of that in his body to begin with, but it reaches an entire new level when he feels the edge of teeth in his bottom lip and he lets a muffled yelp slip, more astonishment than pain, really.

“You bit me!”

The statement rings loud in the living room, heavy breathing filling the space especially as Tony swipes his tongue across his bottom lip and tastes blood. What was even more surprising is the fact that Stephen looks just as surprised as he does, face slightly flushed and panting with eyes blown wide as if this hadn’t all been on the account of his initiative from the start.

“… You deserved it. You and that big mouth of yours.”

Tony isn’t sure when this kind of fighting had become attractive, but it certainly is now and that helps when he fumbles forward to grab the front of that disgusting sweater the sorcerer was wearing to kiss him again and only after a while does Tony realize that he’s kissing like a man starved for air. Who could blame him though, after all he hadn’t kissed anyone since…

“F-Fuck…—”

Tony feels wrong now, so wrong and he shouldn’t be doing this, tears his lips away and scrambles to his side of the couch with heavy, constricted lungs. There is this sensation of water rising up to his chin, his breathing gets out of control and it’s horrible and wrong. He feels like throwing up, is reminded of the worst of things in the worst of moments…—

“Tony. Are you okay?”

Stephen’s concerned face blurs into focus in front of him and it’s even worse now. He hates being this wreck of a man, hates how utterly useless Pepper’s death had left him. But his entire body was shaking and not even the alcohol could stop his mind from overheating on itself, could barely feel the shaky grip on his wrist as Stephen’s voice becomes distant. Whenever he panics like this, his body shuts down on itself and it doesn’t help that Stephen was there to bear witness to it all, it only makes his anxiety worse and worse, makes him spiral.

But then he feels a soft touch in his hair. Trembling fingers combing through short strands of dark hair, the edge of nails in his scalp. Normally it’s only Morgan who is allowed to do this, he feels at ease being on the receiving end from, but right now it makes the trembling stop. It makes the hyper-strong tension seep out of him slowly, he’s holding onto Stephen’s shoulder and the touch was delicate. Maybe he had seen Morgan do this before, but Tony didn’t really care why he knew at this point. It feels too nice to stop him, comforting in the best way that lets his eyes slip shut.

He’s also pretty sure that Stephen had turned off the TV because it was disturbingly quiet, only their combined breathing and ruffling of fabric as Tony leans forward to rest his head against Stephen’s collarbone. Pepper and his mother always used to do this too— it helps him calm down, it always has.

“… I’m sorry.”                        

Tony is sure that this was the second time he had ever heard Stephen apologize for anything at all. The first time, it was for Pepper’s death (as if it had been entirely his fault) and the second one right now, when he was even less at fault. Even through the haze of the alcohol, Tony can make it out and only now does he realize how much the hand in his hair felt like a fluttering leaf and he wants to reassure Stephen that he did nothing wrong, that Tony was the pathetic one here.

“Don’t be… ‘t was a nice kiss.”

“… Apparently still not enough to shut you up, though.”

Now he chuckles drunkenly, feels better than before but still nuzzles up into the touch on his head, simply because it feels good and safe. A part of him is tempted to close his eyes and pretend it was Pepper stroking his hair and caring for him like this, but at the same time, all of this was unapologetically Stephen— the broader shoulders, the scent of old books and a hint of smoke combined with the jitter of his hand still tangled in Tony’s hair.

“What can I say… I’m hard to satisfy, ha.”

“Just go to sleep.”

And so Tony decides that that is the best idea anyone could possibly have and closes his eyes either way, but instead of pretending it was Pepper holding him, his mind was (very much) aware that this was Stephen— and he trusts Stephen, which is why it was easy to dose off without any other worry filling his mind, finally falling into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter Text

Stephen is still there the next morning, much to Tony’s surprise— much to Stephen’s own surprise, too. Tony was resting against him and it’s cozy because the cloak is wrapped around them almost protectively, so Tony pretends to sleep for longer than he normally would (also partially because his head felt like it was being drilled by a sledgehammer). There’s the steady rise and fall of Stephen’s chest under him and it’s much more comforting than Tony would ever have imagined. He can tell that the sorcerer is still sleeping by the evenness of it, so he rests his chin right over the pectoral muscles to study his sleeping face. He looks much more tolerable, almost cute, even…—

“You know I can see you staring, right?”

He twitches on instinct, out of sheer disbelief as the other hero cracks an eye open as if he had never slept at all. It was as unsettling as it was intriguing, Tony finds.

“Is that a magic trick too?”

“If you call me projecting my astral body to do things while my physical form is able to rest and recharge a ‘magic trick’, then yes.”

“That sounds like something I could use. Guess you have to show me sometime.”

Tony has always had a talent for avoiding and talking around the elephant in the room, which was no different this time. But he can tell that it didn’t seem to be Stephen’s exact forte, even just by the way he could barely hold eye-contact for more than a couple of seconds, acting as if the ugly carpet they bought along with the house was suddenly much more interesting than Tony and this conversation. Pepper never let him avoid it too much, she was too head-strong for that— but Stephen might make this easier and less painful, act like it never happened and forget about it. Maybe that’s for the best.

“I was thinking. Maybe it would be for the better if I don’t show up to dinner for a while.”

That makes the engineer perk up, because that isn’t really what he had in mind. He thought more along the lines of going back to how everything between them was just about twenty-four hours ago, nothing more and nothing less.

“And what brought you to that half-baked conclusion?”

It’s almost a game by now, seeing how far he could push the other before it would all explode: the kiss had been proof of that. Well, technically it had been more than one (but that wasn’t the point he was trying to make to himself here). Pushing and pulling is what they do, but the power has been weak on Stephen’s end and some part of Tony wants to continue pushing him, does not want him to hold back out of what Tony knows is pity and guilt.

“… May I remind you how you reacted yesterday?”

“That was the alcohol. And the caffeine. Combined. Horrible idea.”

Stephen raises his famed skeptical eyebrow, clearly not buying it even if it was (half of) the truth. It’s clear to both of them that there was more to it than that, but neither one was very keen on addressing it, because it would get ugly and it was way too comfy for that.

“I mean it, try kissing me again, c’mon.”

“I will not…—“

“Hurry up or I’ll do it.”

“Stark, you…—“

This time it doesn’t feel as magical. Maybe because Tony is just trying to prove a point with this or because he can feel Stephen tense as a board beneath him. Either way, he doesn’t freak out this time (maybe also because it felt so much less intense), so he concludes it had really been the substances that had made him like that yesterday night and not his own head. Even as he pulls back, Stephen doesn’t say anything, just looks him over with that amazing poker face of his, but still not seeming entirely convinced by Tony’s short kiss.

What Tony does not expect is for Stephen to pull him back down into another kiss, but it’s different yet again. Less purpose and he can feel the sorcerer’s shaky palm move against the back of his neck, where its fingertips disappear into the start of his hair and this time, Tony is sure he will melt— that this simple touch could make him and the reactor around his heart disintegrate in the most peaceful way possible. It’s warm and Stephen smells of the tea Tony hates so much, but it’s all background noise as he just lets Stephen kiss him, trying to force his brain to stop thinking as he feels the sorcerer’s shoulder muscle relax under his own palm.

They stay like that for a while, intertwined like this and feeling entirely right, like they have always been doing this and this time, Tony isn’t even worried about Stephen perhaps biting his lip open again (though he would let him either way). Even when they pull away again, they both feel speechless for once, just breathing a bit heavier than normal and while they had become closer over the previous months, this was something else, something more neither of them could place.

“… Alright. You pass.”

“… ‘Told ya.”

The atmosphere was tense, but not in an awkward way. Tony can’t deny that there isn’t an internal conflict, that he doesn’t feel the smallest bit of wrong kissing the man indirectly responsible for his wife’s death. But when Stephen looks at him with all the awe of a teenager who just had his first kiss stolen, there is no possible way he could break that gaze— they have hurt each other enough.

“As much as I could do this all day, May is going to drop off Morgan soon, so I gotta change. So do you, actually.”

It’s a mood killer, but Tony wasn’t even sure what type of mood they were setting here to begin with, but it’s more difficult than he thinks, how Stephen tucks his hands back to himself without a complaint, but as Tony tried to get up, he realizes how utterly stuck they are. The cloak has more diameter than it seemed, wrapped around and over them, making untangling a messy business as the engineer tries hard to free his leg, barely catching the small chuckle from the other hero.

“Would you tell your cloak to let go of me? I get that I’m attractive, but preferably not to intimate objects as well.”

“It’s a sentient being, I don’t control it. Sometimes it doesn’t even answer to me, honestly.”

Tony gives him the most unimpressed stare he can muster up, but eventually he manages to stumble out of the mess of magical fabric, barely just escaping a harsh collision with the floor head-first. Stephen smiles back at him and of course it’s a sarcastic smile, every struggle of Tony’s was still his life-blood, which certainly hasn’t changed.

“I won’t keep you from your duties, then.”

They stare at each other after that and now it’s awkward— Tony wanted to offer coffee, but he knows Stephen has sworn off coffee a long time ago. So there’s no real reason for him to stay, even if Tony feels like there are things that should be addressed, but that has never been his strong suit (and it probably never will be).

“Yeah, see you around.”

And with that, the sorcerer disappears through another of his magic circles, leaving behind a few sparks dancing on the living room floor and Tony spends a pretty long time watching them burn out before he sighs and threads a hand through his own hair, groaning into his palms as he walks upstairs to go find something to change into.

[*]

Stephen has been confused on many occasions in his life— mainly after he first came to Kamar-Taj, but that was not the point. The point is that he has never been able to figure out his feelings well, whether it’s platonic or romantic. He would also like to add that he does not want to figure them out either, because it’s stressful and work and maybe not what he would like it to be in the end. But Wong is doing a great job of reminding him of them.

“If you mean to tell me that you are doing this to ease your conscience, I ask you to stop. No one will gain anything out of it.”

A part of him has always yielded to Tony because of this immense feeling of guilt. A part of him wanted to atone for what he had kept from Tony (and Pepper herself) by succumbing to Tony’s rage and take all this blame, even when he is aware that the only other option would have been the end of the universe as they know it. What happened yesterday, Stephen could write off as alcohol combined with touch-starvation— but what happened this morning was something else.

It was something he could not put into words, a gentle kind of touch that he never experienced before, soothing and warming him right through to the marrow of his bones. This morning, Tony didn’t freak out and think of his dead wife while kissing him, Stephen was sure of it. That kiss had only been between the two of them and this was a level of intimacy Stephen wasn’t sure he could entirely handle by himself.

“… I’m not that cruel a man, Wong. You should know that.”

Wong looks at him and Stephen rolls his eyes, because of course Wong would look at him with more than just a hint of skepticism. But what he said rings true, he might have felt obligated to help Tony out with dinner from time to time or help him and his friends do testing with him as their guinea pig to some degree, but this wasn’t the same. Stephen isn’t sure what he would label it, but he would let Tony Stark kiss him again, because the kisses weren’t bad. But judging from Wong’s tone, he probably feels like there is more to it than this.

“I am simply giving you advice. As long as this does not impact your performance as Sorcerer Supreme, I will let you do as you please. But do be careful. Don’t let this unwarranted guilt be used against you.”

And with that, Wong walks back into the library in the back of the ground floor, leaving Stephen to look out the round window at the top of the hall once again. What Wong said was true, but he feels certain that guilt would not have felt like it did when they had kissed— guilt had almost broken him months ago and this was so much more gentle and welcoming. Now he and Tony co-exist without shifting blame that no one should even take, but Stephen does because there is no one else to carry it otherwise. But he would not pursue this further if Tony’s internal conflict would eat him alive like it had almost done last night, mainly because that was not his decision to make or his matter to settle— it was Tony’s.

Chapter Text

Tony is certain that things aren’t how they were supposed to be when he sits in a random burger joint after midnight, nerves frayed and he looks like he hadn’t slept in centuries. When Rhodey enters the pretty empty shop and catches his eye, he’s also sure he’s in for a grand speech about responsibility, but he had been the one to ask his best friend here, so he would let him ramble either way.

“This better be bad or I will terminate our friendship right here and now.”

“… I kissed the wizard.”

The engineer can barely see the disbelief in Rhodey’s eyes before bringing his hands up to his face to rub his eyes until he’s sure they’re puffy and red, looking as exhausted as he feels— he’s tempted to go to the corner shop and buy a bottle of vodka instead.

“You kissed the…—“

“Yep.”

“On the…—

“Yep.”

There was a brief pause before Rhodey just gives a sigh and decides to order a coffee for himself while Tony still busies himself with rubbing his eyes raw (even if it was just to avoid the look he knew he would get as soon as he stops).

“Actually, this isn’t that surprising, now that I think about it.”

“Spare me the sentimentalities.”

It almost felt like they were in college again together, sitting together somewhere where there’s coffee and snacks to finish all their work, dividing some of it for common courses and Tony used to call them ‘meetings in case of emergency or world destruction’— which still rings oddly true, especially now. His best friend must have realized that it’s serious because he just takes a sip of his coffee without saying anything, obviously waiting for Tony to recount everything.

“I was drunk. Bad decision.”

He can hear another sigh and it’s obvious that Rhodey doesn’t take kindly to this information, even if just due to the fact that Tony had this bad history with alcohol and substance abuse he thought he got out of years ago and relapsing was no laughing matter. But he still keeps quiet and nods his head for Tony to go on.

“He was into it though, may I add. Otherwise I don’t know what that makes us.”

“I’m happy for you, I… guess?”

“I’m finally getting some again, yeah. Celebrate me.”

It’s a good thing that Rhodey knows by now that all of Tony’s joke are just to cover up his inner meltdown, which is why he just rolls his eyes as he takes another sip of his coffee, looking over Tony as if assessing his mental state, which wasn’t doing as great as he would like it to.

“You don’t need to rush into anything, Tony. It’s good if you don’t view it as mistake, but don’t forget that only a few months ago, you never wanted to see his face again and tried to start a fight on more than one occasion.”

Tony remembers that vividly as well— the way he had gone into rage and had to be held back by three other Avengers to not end up with his hands at Stephen’s throat (because in hindsight, he’s almost sure Stephen would have let him). The ugly things he said in hurt and rage, even if Rhodey was right and it wasn’t Stephen’s fault. He was the one who saw it, not the one who decided it. Tony has never believed in fate, but even if he did, he would hate it even more so, merely for the fact that it took Pepper from him. Tony also knows if the sorcerer had told him about Pepper’s impending doom, it would have meant all their deaths, would have messed up their possibility of victory and in the end, it could have realistically been anyone. But Pepper had always been beyond selfless and maybe it was time to honor her sacrifice instead of simply mourning it.

“I know. But we’re past that now, we’ve grown as human beings.”

It’s not even wrong, even if it had mainly been Tony, who had been able to work through his anger and see the situation for what it really is— that Stephen had made the reasonable choice that he couldn’t possibly blame him for, because Pepper had the same logical reasoning in her and he’s sure she would have done the same.

“That’s… good to hear. Why call me here, then?”

“I don’t know what… this means. I might have freaked out a bit on him, understandably so. Been a while since I was with a guy, as you know.”

Luckily Rhodey picks up that this was a hint that points towards the fact that it has barely even been a year since he lost Pepper and that had been what caused the panic. The veteran gives him a considerate look as Tony runs a sweaty hand through his hair— black coffee always makes his sweat glands break out into panic as well.

“Like I said, no need to rush. I mean, what do you even want out of this?”

Tony hadn’t even thought that far ahead. He had been overwhelmed with the situation as it is, so this just throws him for another loop. What did he want from Stephen? He certainly wants things to remain as they are, with Stephen coming over for dinner and taking care of small things in-between, throwing back sass whenever Tony dishes out first. That also opened up the question of what Stephen wanted out of this, which might be an entirely different story as well.

“… I don’t know.”

He rarely said that sentence, Tony despises not knowing to his core. But it had to be said, because it was undeniably true. That seems to have shaken Rhodey too, giving him another concerned look, but Tony is just glad that he can’t find any pity in it.

“Then I think you should find out the answer to that first. That’s something I can’t help you with.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. … Thanks.”

Rhodey just smiles at him over the rim of his cup before ordering another one, deciding it’s the perfect time to switch the topic back to his newest experiences at the therapy facility he’d been working at for a while now, causing Tony to relax into a small smile as well before ordering another coffee for himself as well.

[*]

Stephen had never been unable to properly mediate before, has not been able to reach a point where his mind is blank and aligned with his body and all of the universe when he concentrated fully. But his thoughts keep wandering back to the sort of electricity the other hero had given off on top of him, how it left him tingling and vibrating on an edge of anxiety, pretty much— this feeling was something he hadn’t been able to get off his mind for days now.

Like he had told Tony, he didn’t show up to dinner that night. Or the last one. Neither of those times had he received a text message from Tony, asking him where he was or if he wanted to come over and so Stephen logically concluded that the engineer simply needed time to sort his feelings out, which was completely fine with him… If only it hadn’t been for that (truly electrifying) kiss.

“Get up, there’s someone at the door for you.”

Wong isn’t exactly kind about his information every time he comes to get Tony (even on the astral level), but Stephen thanks him either way, his chest filling with a foolish glee that he tried very hard to suppress as he returns to his physical form, cloak immediately flying around his shoulders as he checks at the door.

“Doctor Strange! You’re home, great! I need to show you something!”

As unexpected as it was, Stephen comes to find Peter Parker at his doorstep, hyper and certainly ready to charge past him into the Sanctum, which Stephen allowed (as soon as the initial disappointment he stubbornly ignores disappeared). The teen took off his mask and beamed up at him, as if Stephen was missing out on a very grand joke, which caused a sense of unease to settle in.

“Alright, calm down. What do you need my help with?”

“I didn’t say I…—“

“That is was ‘something you need to show me’ usually turns out to be.”

Peter seems to think about being offended for a brief minute, but then his expression settles again and he just sighs before unlocking a part of his suit to show to the older man, at which Stephen only raised an eyebrow.

“I was talking to Mr. Rhodey earlier and he gave me training tips to do on patrol around the neighborhood, but suddenly my net-shooting equipment started breaking down… I tried fixing it myself, but it only started flashing in weird colors, so I tried calling Mr. Stark, but he won’t pick up his phone, so…—“

“So you came here? To me? You do remember that I used to be a neurosurgeon, not a mechanic, right?”

Peter just wanted to open up his mouth before they heard a loud thud against the door and that only heightens Stephen’s suspicions, motioning for Peter to remain quiet while he checks the camera right by the front door and he’s almost not surprised when he sees Tony in his full Iron Man get-up. With a sigh, he releases the protective spells to grant the other hero entry and he’s almost certain he can feel a headache building up already.

“Stephen, where is he?! Did you see him when…—“

“Mr. Stark! You’re here!”

The sorcerer suddenly feels trapped in a bad comedy movie, because Tony has to do a double-take when he sees the younger, gaping as if in sheer disbelief and judging by his harsh breathing, he must have stressed his way here, for whatever reason. He takes off his suit right before the lecture begins and Stephen has never felt more like the parent of a teenager than right now.

“The emergency alarm on your suit went off! That only happens when you…—“

“Tinker with the mechanics? Yeah.”

Stephen gives Peter a meaningful look, because this is what is to be expected of Tony’s gadgets and while Peter became a bit pale around the nose, Tony’s nose got redder due to the increasing blood pressure, Stephen assumed. As the other man starts going on a rant, Stephen takes a moment to appreciate Tony Stark like this, as human as they come— shouting at his (unofficial) apprentice in Stephen’s entrance hall, clearly out of concern while Peter tried to square himself into the smallest possible space in the entire hall. He knows Tony has lost too many people to not have been genuinely alarmed, but there was a limit to how much shouting you could do over this.

“He said he tried to call you and you did not pick up.”

“Yes, because I was in the middle of a conference when I received the alarm!”

Not having a great day, Stephen concludes. But he stands up to Tony’s angry glare, apparently still revved up even after realizing it was a false alarm, so Stephen decides to step a bit closer, despite Peter’s frequent apologizing in the background, he wouldn’t let Tony take out his unjust anger on the kid who truly only wanted to make his life easier and fix his mistake himself.

“It’s obvious he didn’t do it on purpose. I think he learned his lesson.”

It’s as gentle but as firm as he could make it and Tony’s eyes rush over his face, as if recalling things (probably from their last night together), before his eyes soften a little. Stephen still doesn’t take his eyes off him, waits until Tony turns to Peter with a calmer tone and then he also relaxes his shoulders.

“… Sorry for the yelling, kid. It’s been a stressful day, so just tell me. What’s broken?”

And as Peter breaks out into chaotic blabbering once more, Stephen feels how he himself feels more at ease now— now that he has seen Tony and is certain that he doesn’t hate him or never wants to see him again and honestly? That was all Stephen would ever ask for.

Chapter Text

The only catch with that was, that Tony wouldn’t just tolerate his existence. After he was done with Peter, Tony invited him over for dinner once more and this time, Stephen didn’t hesitate a heartbeat before answering yes. Partly due to curiosity and partly because he didn’t have another choice, whether it was the guilt, the desire or something else— it all pointed towards the undeniable fact that he wishes to spend more time with the other hero. So what better way to do that than to reestablish old traditions in their routine?

“… We’re engaged and you won’t even kiss me hello? That’s honestly fussy.”

“I never agreed to an engagement, if you remember.”

“Doesn’t matter, you have to play the part either way.”

Stephen really does, something he realizes when the other man steps up to him to slowly steal another kiss, giving him enough space to lean back and away, but Stephen doesn’t— the electric feeling has been haunting him and it still feels as nice and vibrant as he remembers it, even giving Tony the smallest satisfaction of tilting his head to the side for a more comfortable angle. When they break apart, Tony stares at him as if he’s surprised that Stephen was still there and it brings a small smirk to Stephen’s face, only inclining him to lean in and plant another short kiss on Tony’s lips.

“… Won’t you ask me what this means? For me? For us?”

Stephen meets Tony’s stare, hard and trained on him and tries to think about what could possibly come next, regardless of his answer. But then he decides that he will settle for anything Tony would give or take anyways.

“I won’t. That is for you to decide.”

He returns to chopping the celery on his cutting board, leaving his words very much out in the open and he can’t see Tony’s face, but he’s pretty sure what expression he must wear— but Stephen meant what he said and he would stand by his statement.

“So if I told you that I want something permanent? The full engagement course? Honeymoon in Hawaii and all that shebang?”

If Tony would not be wearing such a serious face, Stephen is sure he would have laughed, but his lungs feel tight, if due to nervousness or due to another factor is unknownst to even himself. All that he knows is that he needs to put the knife down, because his hands have begun to stutter even harder than they usually do and he would very much like to keep the rest of his (although still pretty useless) fingers.

“… Then I would be alright with that. The honeymoon destination would be a topic of debate, though. Hawaii is very… basic these days, as Peter calls it.”

Tony still wasn’t cracking a smile, so Stephen stayed right by the dry sarcasm, even if he’s almost sure that his heart was beating loud enough out of his chest for it to be audible if you really try listening for it. Everything was a game when it came to discussion between them, that’s how it’s always been and Stephen doubts it would change even if they did actually get married and celebrated their honeymoon on goddamn Hawaii.

“And what if I told you to never show your face to me again?”

That shoots through him like lightning, but not the pleasant kind of electric tingle he had been feeling earlier— more so a dangerous lightning strike that could kill when hitting in the wrong places, but Stephen swallows it down regardless. As much as his pride mattered to him, sometimes even the bravest must give in to their fears.

“Then I would respect your wish. And only bother you when it’s work-related.”

The engineer’s face hadn’t changed even once the entire time they had played this game of question and answer, but it didn’t unsettle Stephen too much. A good poker face is apparently something else him and Tony had in common, as much as he didn’t want to admit it. The seconds crawl by painfully slow with the other hero just staring right at him and Stephen feels much like he’s at trial rather than anything else.

“Alright. Just wanted to check, I’m still undecided if I want you in exile or Hawaii.”

Stephen might consider killing Tony Stark as a third option, on second thought. But he’s so used to Tony’s antics that it doesn’t even make him as upset as he had thought it would— all it caused was a chuckle from Stephen as he returns to his celery, the cloak floating curiously between them, as if following the conversation.

“Great. Write me a letter when you have reached your conclusion.”

“Yeah, I’ll ask Natasha to translate it into Latin just for you. I heard doctors are really into that.”

And then he can hear Tony starting to unpack the rest of their ingredients behind him at the stove and he’s sure to hide his small smile from the other, more than content just cutting these vegetables as their legs brush occasionally during the cooking and Stephen is certain— and even just this, it was more than he would ever ask for.

[*]

If there was one thing Pepper had taught him, it was the importance of healing, of unlearning your destructive ways and actively trying to overcome your old habits to become a better person. Tony is disappointed in himself once he truly realizes how much he strayed from that path, rejected opportunities of healing because ignoring the pain and masking it with anger was easier. Talking to Rhodey and then Stephen one more time makes him realize that Stephen doesn’t need Tony to feel guilt— he already puts that on himself more than enough.

“So I was thinking… maybe I could tolerate you in my bed tonight.”

It’s small steps and Tony doesn’t plan on doing anything rash yet, so he simply hopes Stephen doesn’t take this the wrong way, not when they’re so familiarly close over the sink, with Tony handling the dishes this time before passing them to Stephen to sort into the dishwasher (with no backtalk this time). Stephen raises an eyebrow and Tony winks, which earns him another sigh, but there is no immediate denial.

“How generous of you. But that bed isn’t mine, not to sleep in nor to take over.”

Tony also very quickly realizes what Stephen means by that— that is still the bed him and Pepper used to sleep in, after all. He can’t see Stephen’s face well from this angle, but he’s pretty sure that it’s the same face either way, but he wishes he could at least see the gratefulness in Tony’s eyes.

“Your couch is more comfortable than it looks though, if you insist.”

Tony finds that he insists very much and so it also doesn’t take long until they’re wound up on the couch exactly like they had rested here before a couple of nights ago. This time they’re completely sober though, but Tony is still very hyper-aware of Stephen’s body right by his own. But now, he is at peace with that and even though it’s completely silent, that is exactly what Tony had begun to understand their dynamic to be— a silent understanding, perfect for them.

“For the record, you will probably have to show your face around here again. Morgan likes your cloak too much for me to keep it from her.”

“… I’m certain that is why.”

It’s so insignificant and yet more significant than anything else they have ever said to each other— it was Tony’s way of forgiving him and Stephen’s way of accepting his forgiveness, at least as a small start. Maybe there would be days when it would come back to break them, but for now, they have both had enough of it tearing at them, especially as they laid there, so utterly tired. It was time for them to rest now.

Tony doesn’t need to say anything when he feels shaky fingers thread through his hair again, but this time he falls asleep without Stephen having to tell him to rest, because it’s comfortable and for the first time in months, he isn’t haunted by nightmares, but rather by colorful dreams, painted in all sorts of emotions and stimulus, fun and exciting, something new that he would very much like to welcome into his life.

[*]

When Tony finally wakes up again, it’s because of childish laughter, causing him to stir and crack one eye open, a flurry of movement dancing across the living room. He’s warm (both inside and out) when he moves his chin into the fabric under him, but a slight push to his forehead pretty clearly tells him that he isn’t laying on fabric, but much rather a human being. He stares up at Stephen’s unamused face, apparently not appreciating the point of Tony’s chin digging into his intestines and yet Tony thinks he’s rarely ever seen a less beautiful sight to wake up to (not that he’d ever tell Stephen that, though).

“Dad!”

He barely has time to react before the weight of another small human is thrown onto him, Stephen letting out a groan under him too as Morgan giggles at their faces (and he feels ridiculously old right then and there), pressing out a smile as his spine tries not to break, Stephen’s cloak draping right over them too, as if joining in on the get-together.

“I missed you too, Pumpkin… You’re getting bigger and bigger when I look away even for a second.”

“Like Ant-Man?”

Tony swears he can hear Stephen chuckle behind him (because of course Scott Lang would be one of his daughter’s favorite heroes) and it’s an open secret how he is generally treated by the other Avengers, but without him, they would have never gotten everybody back— and Tony will give credit where credit is due.

“… Yeah, like Ant-Man.”

Morgan giggles in delight and the cloak seems to be scared off by the high noise, promptly causing him to float out onto the veranda, which Morgan followed happily, leaving Tony to wheeze once more as soon as she bounces off of him and this time he’s certain he heard Stephen chuckle.

“So my pain is funny to you?”

“It’s hilarious. I’m sure Wong would agree with me.”

Tony rolls his eyes before mushing his face back into the fabric of Stephen’s robe again, completely sure that it was way too early for him to be awake, even if the sun was shining bright out and Morgan’s laughter could be heard right by the window. It felt… peaceful. And Tony decided he likes it— a lot.

“You would also be a better pillow if you talked less.”

“Make me, then.”

The engineer feels warmth bloom up in his chest as he sees the hint of a twinkle in Stephen’s eye as he throws his own words back at him, not even hesitating to reach up to pull the sorcerer for a kiss. It’s intoxicating in so many more ways than one and Tony wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to stop kissing Stephen again, mostly because he was a lot more tolerable when he shut up like this. He’s sure he can hear his own blood rush through his ears the more he raises himself up and the fact that Stephen was reciprocating had his hands shake almost as badly as Stephen’s own.

Then he chooses to allow himself a few experimental touches against the curve of Stephen’s covered hip, even if just to feel how real and present he truly was— the touch let the sorcerer’s hand shake a little more against his shoulder and it’s amazing how responsive the other man was, especially to Tony as an engineer and physicist with a degree, to whom action and reaction was most familiar to. It was easy to lose himself in the feeling, even if it was just the nice touch of their bodies resting against each other, body warmth leaking even through their clothing, until Stephen suddenly pulls away and Tony is positively enraptured by what he sees.

“Maybe we should… move this to another time. When your daughter isn’t busy chasing my mystical relic around your house.”

Stephen’s ears and cheeks wear the slightest shade of dusted-over red and if Tony didn’t know better, he would be sure that the sorcerer was blushing. Normally a teasing would be in order, but right now, Tony feels like his captivated gaze was enough of a tease already, leaning back to try and get up enough for a better view of the other hero’s face.

“Didn’t know you had a shy side. How adorable.”

“Just because I am not as depraved as you does not make me shy, Stark.”

“Oh, the last name. Thought we dropped that when we got engaged.”

The sorcerer rolls his eyes again, a low groan escaping him as Tony squirms to move back up to stand, feeling slightly wobbly on his feet after resting for so long, but seeing Stephen in his full robes, now crinkly with a visible outline where Tony was pretty sure his body had just rested a few seconds ago, he allows himself the smallest of smiles, even more so as he raises a pretentious eyebrow and asks:

“Coffee?”

But the fact that Stephen stares back at him with something that’s almost a smile when he meets Tony’s eyes lets him know for sure, even more so when he sits up to stretch his own back out, that twinkle from earlier visible in his eyes again.

“I know you know I never have coffee. So no.”

And when Stephen gets up to walk him into the kitchen despite his answer, Tony feels the familiar tightness in his chest— but this time it was not grief, only fondness stealing his breath away and when Morgan runs up to him with the happiest smile (as if it was her final blessing as well) and Stephen’s cloak wrapped around her neck, he gets the notion of a feeling that maybe, they will be okay after all.