Work Text:
Steve rested his hand on Tony’s shoulder as he slept in the pilot’s seat of the Benatar.
“I suppose this must be beautiful to you.” Nebula’s voice came from behind him, shattering the silence he had lost himself in.
“I’ve never seen anything like it. Could never have imagined I would.” In the 21 days they’d spent together on the ship, Nebula had become cautiously but increasingly comfortable with Tony and himself, so Steve was no longer surprised by the proximity with which he now found her standing next to him, just behind his shoulder. He couldn’t pull his gaze from the nebula in front of him to look at the one by his side. He was suddenly sickeningly aware of the one piece of glass separating the three of them from a death only slightly more certain than the one they currently faced.
“Is Stark okay?” Nebula touched Steve’s arm lightly, just for a moment, as she asked and Steve couldn’t help the small curl of a smile itching at the corner of his lips. This— asking after them and a fleeting touch— was the most affection she seemed able to show them so far, but it never went unappreciated.
“He’s sleeping,” Steve looked down at Tony, the terrifying beauty of space in front of him suddenly forgotten, “he’s weak. With our remaining supply of food and oxygen, I think it’ll be tomorrow.” The thought of Tony falling asleep and never waking up again caught Steve’s voice in his throat.
“It’s a dark consolation, but not even that serum will keep you around for long afterwards.” Nebula had been the first— and last, Steve realised— person to witness the final culmination of more than 10 years of not-quite-there and never acknowledged feelings between Steve and Tony. She put her hand over the back of Steve’s wrist now, gripping as tightly as she could allow herself as two of her fingers rested on the back of his hand. Steve felt a tear form in the corner of his eye, and knowing he couldn’t push Nebula to hold his hand properly, he moved his other down from Tony’s shoulder and slotted it into his hand, resting as he slept, holding on to the life they had left together.
Steve had no idea how long the three of them stayed like that, but it was as comforting as the void— the beautiful, starlit void— in front of them was overwhelming and terrifying.
****
The three of them sat together around the ship’s small dining table, one and a half bags of rations opened between them. Tony had his head rested on Steve’s shoulder, his breath shallow.
“This is only the second time I’ve really seen it,” Nebula broke the heavy silence and pushed the fuller bag of rations to Tony’s hand, “the Unspoken Thing.”
Tony’s laugh turned into a wheeze and for a moment they all watched the cloud of breath dissipate into the cold air around them.
“The Unspoken Thing?” Tony’s voice was soft and thin when he finally gathered himself enough to ask.
“Quill—” Nebula felt a lump form in her throat for a man she never thought she’d care for, “he and Gam—” the lump grew infinitely, “Gamora, they told me of something called The Unspoken Thing that they felt between them from before they’d promised themselves to each other. Quill, in his infinite idiocy, said that he felt it from the moment he saw her, but she was just stealing from him, and certainly would’ve killed him, so I don’t understand that. But Gamora...she said she knew it was there when he first mentioned it to her.” Nebula paused a moment, and though she appeared to be looking right at Steve, he knew she was somewhere else, just momentarily. “Sorry, you didn’t ask for all the details.” She clasped her hands together, squeezing her fingers tight over her knuckles— something Steve had noticed she’d do when she was upset. After a long few moments of consideration, she silently shook her head.
Tony grabbed some rations out of the bag and shoved them unceremoniously into his mouth, crumbs falling like a scattering of stars from the corner of his mouth, onto the table in front of him, down to the floor.
“If this idiot wasn’t so focused on keeping promises,” Tony bumped Steve with his elbow as he wiped the crumbs from his face, “maybe this wouldn’t have been unspoken for so long.”
“It takes two to tango,” Steve laughed, “You’re amazingly oblivious for a genius.”
“Well, I’m not the one with a track record of only confessing my love for someone when I’m facing certain death.” He took Steve’s hand in both of his and squeezed, “Better late than never, I suppose.” Steve pulled Tony’s hands closer and kissed his still-bruised knuckles.
Nebula’s smile fell back to her comfortable, recognisable scowl when Steve caught her watching them.
“Come on,” she said as she placed both hands on the table, pushing herself to standing and moving her chair back with a loud scrape, “if we’re going to die, I want to do it looking at something more pleasing than this.” She motioned at the two men in front of her with a wave of her hand. Steve chuckled softly and after getting himself up, pulled Tony out of his chair and helped him walk through to the cockpit.
The Benatar had been drifting freely through space ever so slightly since they ran out of fuel to try and get it home, and the view out of the windshield had changed dramatically since the day before. Though, Steve realised, he had no idea of the physics of how much or how quickly the ship could be moving, so he didn’t know how surprised he should be about the change.
Instead of the dark and light swirling purple he’d seen out the window last time, he was now faced with inevitable doom in the form of a teal and almost-black-navy starscape. In the far reaches of his view, Steve saw a galaxy— deep pink, with a blur of bright white-yellow stars dancing an eternal loop.
Steve helped Tony lower himself back into the pilot’s seat, and perched himself on the arm rest, not allowing himself to let go of Tony’s arm.
“I can’t believe how beautiful this is,” Steve offered.
“Mm, yes, the scene of our oncoming death, very beautiful.” A smile barely drifted over Tony’s face.
“Tony…” Steve’s voice was low, brow knotted in disapproval.
“Sorry, Captain,” his smirk more prominent now, then dropping away as he really looked out at the scene in front of him, “it’s unfathomable.” Tony took a shaky breath, as deep as he could manage. “There are worse places to die...and worse company to spend my last hours with.” Tony put his hand over Steve’s.
“Tony, I—” Steve couldn’t push the words past the lump in his throat. Tony gave his hand a tight squeeze, using all his remaining strength.
“I know, Steve. Me too.” Tony’s eyes fluttered shut, his chest barely rising at all. Steve closed his eyes and pressed a long, tender kiss to Tony’s forehead— he planned on staying like that until the oxygen finally ran out.
“Steve…” He ignored Nebula’s voice, brimming with...something, concern? Confusion? He refused to open his eyes to an existence without Tony— a reality where Tony Stark, the man Steve finally admitted he loved, was dead.
“Morning already, huh?” The sound of Tony’s voice, a croaking whisper, snapped Steve back into the moment.
“Tony?” Steve couldn’t stop his smile, even though he knew this wouldn’t last long, “Wait...morning?”
The cockpit began to illuminate with a warm yellow glow.
“What is that?” Nebula’s voice was tinged with anger and defence as she stepped forward.
“It’s a woman.” Tony muttered.
“Tony, you’re dreaming, it can’t be a—” Steve was cut off as the light grew closer and brighter. He raised a hand to shield his eyes. “—woman.”
Tony’s head fell lightly back against the headrest as he giggled quietly to himself.