Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He can not speak, and he can not move, but the world around him - the wonderful, beautiful people standing above him - are clear in Tony’s eyes.

Pepper, one hand on Peter’s back and the other on his chest, her lips on his cheek. Pepper, the love of his life, his Pepper. Pep. The nickname comes out of his mouth, barely audible, but she hears it. 

Peter , sobbing - and God, Tony wants so badly to hug the kid - his kid - and make it so that he never cries again. We won, Mr. Stark. You did it, sir. Tony tries to open his mouth, to say Call me Tony, but all that comes out is a cracked groan.

Rhodey, too, standing behind the two of them, staring, like he doesn’t quite know what to say, what to do, what’s even going on. 

Tony thinks of the last time he saw Morgan. 

Morgan, who he had left at home, who he had tucked into bed ( I love you tons; I love you 3000) and had not been able to say good morning or goodbye to since he had left too early - before dawn, really, for the sake of Rogers and Lang’s crackpot plan.

He thinks of Happy; As Tony and Pepper flew back to back in the heat of battle, Tony had yelled Where’s Morgan?! and Pepper had shouted back Happy’s got her! Happy’s got everything handled, always does. Tony hopes Happy will be able to take care of his kids.

He thinks of Harley, too. The last time he talked to the kid was five years ago, a rushed phone call only days before it happened , before Harley and Peter had crumbled into dust. Harley had told him that he had a surprise, had been working on something great, how he couldn’t wait for Tony to see it. It’s a shame he never will.

Tony looks back up to Pepper. It’s always Pepper, isn’t it? It starts with her, and it ends with her. She’s sobbing, but she’s smiling for him, as she says, It’s okay. You can rest now.

And Tony Stark dies.

He wakes in a bathtub. 

He’s completely naked, is the first thing he notices. Then when he goes to push himself up, the fact that his right arm is made of metal. That’s new. He sits up and surveys the room around him. 

The bathtub is a pure white against an expanse of pitch black: He’s in what looks like a charred ballroom, with a high ceiling and crumbling pillars. Not up to code, he imagines.

“Anthony Edward Stark.”

At the back of the ballroom is a large throne, decorated with spikes and skulls. In it sits a large woman - and by large, he means she quite literally seems to be about ten feet tall - with flowing black hair, a long dark green dress, and glowing golden eyes.

“Lady, someone needs to get you on Queer Eye. Bobby could do wonders for this place, you know?”

The woman sighs. “Anthony-”

“Tony,” he cuts in, not very caring of the fact that he’s naked in a bathtub in what can only be Hell because hey, he’s done weirder.

“But that is not your name,” and at this she seems genuinely confused.

“Yeah, well, anything but Anthony.”

She furrows her eyebrows, then clears her throat and says, “Well, then, Stark. I have a question for you. A proposition, if you will.” When she speaks, her accent is something completely unidentifiable.

“Hold on, hold on.” He holds up a metal finger - Lord, that’s weird, huh? “Who exactly are you?”

“I am Lady Death,” she says, looking at him as though that is something he should have learned in the third grade. “I am the Queen of the afterlife.”

“I thought that was Thor’s sister…” Tony mumbles. He scratches thoughtfully at his chin as he struggles to remember what exactly Thor had said five years before.

“Pardon?”

“Don’t worry about it. What’s your, uh, proposition?”

She grins, head tilting up, assessing him. 

“How would you like to come back to life?”

Tony scoffs. “Well, duh.”

Chapter Text

Lady Death seems to like his answer.

“Well, then, Stark-”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Tony holds up a hand (and it is a trembling hand, but that’s not the point), “On one condition.”

“I do not like making deals with humans,” she says coldly, and yet, she leans forward with thinly veiled interest.

Tony thinks it says something about him that he’s fully comfortable having this conversation completely naked. “Nat - Natasha Romanoff, I mean. Bring her back too.”

Lady Death huffs a laugh. “You venture to bargain with me, and yet you do not even know what motivates me to allow your return to the living world.”

Tony rolls his eyes at her arcane way of speaking. “It’s because the world can’t keep turning without me, of course.” A lazy grin stretches across his face.

(The quips, the jokes, the sarcasm. He needs them, or else he’ll never stop thinking of Peter crumbling to dust in his arms, of coming home from Titan and simply saying Harley? and receiving a sad shake of the head, of the indescribable feeling that wielding the infinity stones sent through him, of the image of three of the most important people in his world - in the world - sobbing above him.)

“Not quite,” Lady Death says. Her hair drapes over the arm of her throne as she tilts her head. Luminescent gold eyes seem to see through Tony’s soul, and he’s not sure if he’s okay with that. “You really are quite interesting, Stark.”

Tony leans over the side of the bathtub. He briefly considers asking for bubble bath. “So I’ve been told. Now, what exactly is your motivation?”

“To be honest, I owe you.”

That is not at all what Tony expecting. 

He splutters. “Wha - you mean - no, no I need you to kill this man for me, Anthony Stark or You must put the universe back in balance, Anthony Stark?”

“I thought I was not to call you Anthony?” She teases, placing a finger to her chin. She rises from her throne, and begins to descend the steps to the singed floor.

Tony levels a faux glare on her as she approaches him. In his best impersonation of Rogers, he says, “Don’t start with that, young lady.”

“I have lived for millennia, you will not call me young lady,” she responds. She is not far from the bathtub, now, her tall form casting ominous shadows over Tony and his bathtub. There is a short moment of silence, until her small sigh pierces the air. “In truth, you have already killed the man - if he can be called that - I wanted dead.”

Understanding washes over Tony like a wave. “You mean-”

She nods. “Thanos. He killed half the universe.”

“Yeah, I’m aware,” Tony breathes. He had been very pointedly trying to keep his mind away from Thanos. “Isn’t that… good for you, Lady Death?”

“No!” She exclaims, making Tony jolt back and water slosh over the side of his bathtub. “It’s so much paperwork!”

Suddenly, she reminds Tony of Pepper in the early days - frazzled and bone-tired. 

“Oh, I guess that makes sense…?”

She rolls her eyes at him. For a deity - or, at least, that’s what Tony assumes she is - she’s awfully… human. “And with all of them returned to life,” she continues, “I can finally relax.”

Tony wonders how Lady Death plays into Thor and his crew’s world. Maybe he’ll ask; Although, Thor may not be too keen to say much about his sister.

Before Tony can fall into an ADHD induced rabbit hole, Lady Death cuts him off. “So, Stark, I think it is only fitting I repay you.”

Repay-?

He only did a fraction of the work!

He says as much, too, nearly tipping the tub over in his scramble to sit further up. He goes on, “Without Nat, we never even woulda gotten the soul stone in the first place! And - Bruce was the one who snapped everyone back! If you’re gonna thank someone, thank them, not me!”

Lady Death takes a small step back, squinting her eyes. After a tense moment where he refuses to back down, she ducks her head with an almost somber smile. “Banner will receive the same offer as you when his time comes. And as for Romanoff - well, I will admit that was an oversight on my part. I will speak with her, believe me.”

“Good.”

The clap she gives echoes throughout the vast room, and with a cloud of golden smoke, there is Natasha.

Natasha - one of Tony’s best friends, he realizes, holy shit. He had thought, after she sided with Cap, any amicability between them had dissipated. 

He was wrong. He knows this because at the sight of her, warmth and love and pride and happiness and relief fills his chest, his entire being.

“Tony,” she gasps, “ Tony, what are you doing here?”

Before he can respond, Lady Death places an ice cold hand on his face, and he falls fast asleep.

———

Happy birthday to you!

Tony snaps awake - again - in a bedroom. Thankfully, he’s clothed this time in a t-shirt and jeans. He sits up, and it only takes a few moments for him to discern his location: his bedroom.

The bedspread is different, there are new pictures on the walls, but the layout is the same, the paint is the same, several of his journals are still stacked on the desk and Pepper’s laptop is still sat next to it.

Happy birthday to you!

He stands slowly, and finds that he feels… healthy. His joints don’t crack and his back doesn’t ache like it used to (much as he hates to admit they ever did). His eyesight, too, is as sharp as it was in his youth. 

Tony turns to the vanity, and nearly passes out right there.

He looks - well, Lady Death may have deaged him a solid twenty years. He looks no older than thirty. 

Happy birthday dear Morgan!

Morgan!

Tony scrambles for the door and yanks it open, practically pulling it off its hinges. He steps out into the hallway, the walls of which are covered in birthday decorations. And at the end of the hallway-

At the end of the hallway- 

At the end of the hallway is his family. 

They haven’t seen him yet, and they don’t hear him coming, either. The singing is loud and jovial and off key and beautiful and everything family is, everything Tony ever wanted - his entire family, there in one piece, happy. 

Happy birthday to you!

There’s Peter, and Harley, with Morgan on his shoulders as they sing for her, she looks so big, how long has it been? Clint, his kids dotted around the room; Strange, over there, using his magic to make lights for Clint’s youngest - what was his name, Nate? - and Pepper, she’s as beautiful as ever - holy shit, that’s not even half of them, everyone’s here-!

They drag out the last note of the song, all in different pitches and with varying levels of enthusiasm. Tony snorts.

Tony snorts, and Peter - Peter, with his goddamned enhanced hearing - shoots out of his chair. 

(Peter’s gotten taller. Peter’s gotten older, too, more muscle, broader shoulders, is that stubble-?!)

Harley is the next to notice - spurred on by Peter’s reaction, Tony assumes, snapping his head to Tony with an odd mix of horror, shock, and curiosity on his face. (Harley and Peter in the same room sounds like pure chaos and Tony can not wait.) 

And then, person by person, the room falls silent.

Tony spreads his arms, giving an awkward laugh. “I’m back?”

And everything kind of goes downhill from there. 

Chapter Text

Morgan is running up to him.

Morgan is running up to him, and Happy is pulling her back. He's glaring at Tony, as though Tony could ever possibly hurt his daughter.

Peter - Peter, with his broader shoulders and older face and stubble - is marching forward. His fists are clenched at his sides, his face twisted in an expression that could kill a man. He opens his mouth, only feet away from Tony.

But before Peter can reach him, before he can say whatever he was going to say that would have undoubtedly hurt Tony in his very soul, Strange flicks his fingers and Tony goes out cold.

When Tony wakes for the third time this hour, he's once again laying in a bed. He's grateful it's not another bathtub - that thing hurt his back something fierce.

He's surrounded by Strange's swirling golden magic; Oddly pretty circles spin above him, like a far more fantastical crib mobile. The magic isn't touching him, though. Monitoring him, maybe?

He's proven right when the door opens and Strange, in all his dramatic wizard glory, walks in. He's levitating, actually, hovering a few inches above the ground. His cape is spread out behind him like cloth wings, and he's got a book that he's pretending to be interested in. Tony can be rest assured that Strange is still a pretentious bastard.

"You're awake," Strange says. He looks up at Tony, something odd on his face, but it only lasts a millisecond before his eyes dart back down to his book.

"Yeah, obviously," Tony says dryly. He stares at Strange for a minute. When the wizard (sorry, sorcerer), says nothing more, Tony sighs and goes on. "What the Hell is going on?"

Strange's book snaps shut. "You died."

"I know. I was there."

At this, Strange seems unimpressed. "Then you understand what's going on. You came back to life."

This man is infuriating, holy shit. "No, yeah, duh. What I mean is, how long has it been?"

Tony doesn't like the look on Strange's face. It's too pitying. Too sad. Too guilty. What does Strange have to feel guilty over? 

Strange opens his mouth to respond, and then Peter runs in.

"Peter," Strange says coolly, "I said wait downstairs."

"And I said no. You heard me, didn't you?"

Despite the shitty situation, Tony chuckles at that - this is still his Peter, even if he's a bit more confident and a bit angrier at the world. Peter barely acknowledges him, though, offering little more than a sharp look that may hurt Tony just a bit.

"Stephen,"  Peter hisses (What happened to the incessant "Misters" and Sirs"?) "Why are we going about this like he's really Tony?"

What?

Tony raises his hand like a student. "Hey-"

"Shut it," Peter snaps, and Tony does, because holy shit.

Stephen ignores their tense little exchange. "I told you, I checked. This is no illusion, or shapeshifter. Nothing of the sort. It's just Tony."

Peter's expression is one Tony wishes he didn't recognize. Something like repressed hopefulness, squashed optimism.

"You remember Beck and that whole shit show? Remember his literal key weapon being illusions, and how he nearly killed half of Europe?"

Oh, Peter Parker, what the Hell?

"It is not. An. Illusion."

Strange's nonchalant facade seems to be crumbling before Tony's eyes. His hands are trembling where they grasp the foot board of the bed, his eyes squeezed shut. Tony doesn't entirely know how to handle this, and from the look of it, neither does Peter.

"Stephen-" Peter starts, but Strange goes on.

"It's the real Tony, kid. Tony fucking Stark."

Peter, apparently accepting this, tilts his head back so Tony can't see his face. "Defying all odds, as usual."

"As usual," Stephen agrees.

"You know I'm still here, right?" Tony says, as casually as possible, and hopes no one can hear the way his heart pounds.

"Of course," Strange says. He rights himself surprisingly quickly, as though he wasn't just on the brink of a breakdown.

Peter, on the other hand, is shaking like a leaf, staring off into the middle distance. Tony moves to get up, but Strange's magic closes in around him. He figures attempting to get through it wouldn't be a great idea.

"Kid," Strange whispers, surprisingly gentles as he places a hand on Peter's back, "Come on. Harley's waiting."

The two exit - considerably more work on Strange's part as he has to coax Peter back into reality and move him forward. 

And Tony realizes he still doesn't know how long it's been.

Stephen Strange is not a father.

He'd be awful at it, and that's a fact. He's never much cared for kids. He's too cantankerous, too blunt with his words, to spend any time around a child without making them cry. Not to mention the fact that his lifestyle is far too dangerous to keep a child safe.

So how he ended up with three of Stark's brats following him around, Strange will never know.

Peter is, to a degree, understandable.

In none of the futures Strange saw can he see far past Tony's death (or lack thereof, in most cases), so he has no idea if this - Peter clinging to him like a koala bear - is a rare occurrence. He assumes it must be, as there aren't many timelines where either is alive to cling or be clinged to.

So Stephen has no understanding of Peter's motivation to stick around him. He doesn't imagine himself very fun to stick around with. Perhaps Peter saw another white man with a goatee and adopted him.

It's definitely much deeper than that. Stephen doesn't care very much.

(That's a lie. Stephen often worries over the boy. He remembers time lines where the other half of the universe died instead. Where Stephen's sling ring was broken and they had to accompany the Guardians on their ship. In some timelines, Peter or Stephen died on the ship. In others, they had to watch as a Guardian failed to fight back death. In very few did all of them make it back alive.

In those timelines where Peter and Stephen both made it back, Guardians or no, they very often ended up living together. Perhaps it was due to a shared trauma. Stephen can't be sure.

Despite this, Stephen insists he is not a father.)

Harley is another enigma, even harder to understand. Stephen never met him until the funeral; The boy had been drawn to him when he saw Stephen distracting Morgan with harmless magic. He'd sat down next to them, red rimmed eyes and cracking voice and all, and started to ask incessant questions about the magic.

Harley acts so much like Tony sometimes that it's alarming. And annoying. He never stops asking questions, he spends all his time holed up in a lab (and it's always Stephen who has to drag him out), he'll drink three pots of coffee in a day if no one stops him. It's frustrating.

Stephen barely knows the kid, but suddenly he and Peter are stopping by every weekend with food, because "You don't eat enough, Strange, just look how skinny you are! Reckon you haven't eaten at all today, have you?" Stephen would be hard pressed to admit it, but the answer to that is very often yes.

("Barely knows" may apply in this timeline, but there are many where it doesn't.

There are many where all three of them survived the Snap. Where Harley finds himself at the Sanctum, because Peter is there, and he's desperate to find anyone who knew Tony the way he did.

There are one or two where Stephen foolishly turns him away, believing him to be nothing but a delusional fanboy. There are many more where Stephen lets him in.

Despite this, Stephen insists he is not a father.)

Then there's Morgan.

She is the easiest to understand: Little girl meets wizard who wears funny clothes and makes pretty lights with his hands. Instant adoration.

Morgan is extremely smart for her age. She could probably ace middle school classes, and she hasn't even hit the first grade. And she's got a big heart. And she's clever. And-

Stephen insists she is an annoying brat.

(In timelines where Stephen and Tony both survived the Snap, Stephen is "Uncle Stephen."

In their own timeline, Stephen is partial to making Morgan magical gifts - teddy bears that change colors and the like. He babysits for Pepper sometimes when she's busy. He helps to plan Morgan's birthday parties.

He's not a father, really.)

No, it's not until months after Tony dies that Stephen admits it. It's not until eight months later, when Harley gets in the accident and Peter's identity is exposed within the same week; It's not until he's consoling a sobbing Morgan who doesn't understand why Harley's in a hospital bed; It's not until he's working day and night with Pepper, Happy, and Rhodey to get Peter's name cleared; It's not until he's nearly lost Harley and Peter that he admits it:

Okay, maybe he's kind of a dad.