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Cold.
It was so fucking cold.
Gooseflesh crept over his body, the bare skin of his arms pale like frost. His breath coming in ghostly puffs of fog. Despite the frigid air Tony’s heart was hammering and sweat poured off his body only to seemingly turn to ice, pricking his skin. The realization made panic crawl up his throat with a tortured cry, sides cramping like claws digging into fragile flesh and it was so dark…too dark…he couldn’t see his way out…couldn’t find the heat he craved, terror making his mind all fuzzy and uncertain.
He didn’t want to die.
Not here. Not in the empty metal coffin that was the Guardians ship. Its creaking metal and stuttering engine seemed to agree yet it couldn’t be brought back to life, not even the emergency lights could break through the darkness.
“Help.”
A croak, voice arrested by fear and confusion and the ice sliding steadily through his veins. Tony felt the sob in his chest, a thick mass that pushed against his chest and made his skin crawl with too much sensation as he tried to hold back the tears, tried to focus, to save himself from this mess he’d ended up in.
Except he didn’t know how.
There was no plan.
No last chance.
Nothing to tinker with, nothing to fix, nothing to save him.
Helpless.
Tony collapsed onto the freezing metal. A loud clang reverberating through the ship, his skin sticking to the steel. He hated the cold so much. He closed eyes and bit his lip hard enough to bleed…trying to forget, trying to pretend this wasn’t happening.
“Tony!” A distant voice. Familiar. “Tony, please, its time to come back now.”
He couldn’t quite place it, too busy pushing away the urge to scream, the urge to-
Tony bolted upright with a gasp.
Blinking rapidly, a scream travelling up his throat he instantly became aware of the lights burning his eyes, far too bright and slightly nauseating. Next, Tony felt the arms wrapped tightly around him and the cloth even closer around those. In his ear a voice whispered reassuringly, all calm tones and soothing murmurs.
For a second. A split second in time, Tony nearly shoved away the arms, the person trying so hard to keep him from falling apart. Was ready to scream at the top of his lungs and run from the room and all its colour and light.
The painful ball still sat heavy in his chest and his skin ached with oversensitivity. The urge to scream continued to claw at his throat…but there was one very important thing that was different, that made Tony stop struggling and the chaos of his mind to begin the slow process of calming down.
It was warm.
No, it was stifling.
Not only was the body wrapped around him exuding unnatural heat but the room itself was hot enough to leave him damp with sweat. On the wall across from the bed there was a roaring fireplace that was giving off so much heat Tony felt as though he was inhaling it.
He was warm. Blissfully, unbelievably warm.
With that realization came another…he was home.
Tony wasn’t up in space alone but for Nebula, not anymore. He wasn’t helpless on that fucking death machine of a ship, he wasn’t slowly freezing as the heaters gave one by one, day after day. He wasn’t even in a solid metal suit staring at the stars as he fell back to earth. He was safe and warm, and Stephen was here reminding him of all that with the mantra being said over and over directly into his ear.
His breathing was beginning to quiet, no longer filling the room with his desperate panting. The arms around him loosened in response though Tony continued to cling to Stephen’s shirt like he couldn’t bear to let go, face hidden in his lover’s sweaty neck.
Slowly, painfully, the heaviness in his chest dissipated. It took a while, he knew that much, it always did. Yet Stephen was steadfast, arms hanging on, words reassuring Tony every time his mind acted up again with the memory of his nightmare. Eventually, he began to feel like himself again, his muscles relaxing until he was drooped against Stephen, exhausted from the ordeal of yet another night with little sleep.
Tony carefully pulled away from where he rested on Stephen’s shoulder, looked up at Stephen who stared back at him with thinly veiled concern. That wasn’t all though, his face was flushed red, standing out starkly on Stephen’s usually pale face, sweat dripped from his temple and his hair was noticeably damp from it too. His disheveled appearance was enough to bring a wobbly smile to Tony’s lips as he reached up to wipe at the skin of Stephen’s neck.
“You with me?” Stephen murmured.
Tony took a shuddering breath, “yeah, I’m here.”
His voice was dry from the heat, but he was thankful Stephen didn’t turn it down, a chill still hiding deep his bones, one that he hadn’t been able to get rid of since Titan. A glass of water was summoned and pressed to his lips, Tony didn’t protest, simply drank from it greedily and watched as Stephen did the same a moment later. The cup disappeared and Tony let himself nuzzle back into Stephen’s throat, inhaling the familiar scent of ink and the sweeter one that marked him as magic.
Stephen lifted a hand to run it through Tony’s hair, hugging him close, “just a dream. You’re safe.”
“I know,” Tony murmured. “It was just so cold.”
“Never again,” he promised recklessly, just like Stephen did everything and despite himself, Tony found the words soothing, let himself believe them because the man holding him was capable of so many impossible things, surely this was an easy one.
He drifted, not quite able to sleep, not at all able to fully wake up and have a conversation, in Stephen’s arms. The man didn’t falter, held him close and whispered nonsense, the Cloak and the fireplace and Stephen’s body doing just enough to hold back the deep, endless cold of space.