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Stephen was tense, decidedly uncomfortable in the too small room. It was packed to the brim, with agents, Avengers, and consultants. He was hot and crowded, Stephen’s robes felt heavy on his body, sweat dripping down his temple, skin crawling, limbs twitching. There really was no reason to be present, it was little more then a debriefing in the aftermath of Thanos but it was the twelfth one this week.
He was exhausted. Between playing ambassador for Kamar-Taj and doing his own necessary work with Wong in the days since Titan, Stephen had barely slept. Every time he closed his eyes, he was met with a new horror show. Though he loathed to admit it Stephen was beginning to falter…he needed to prioritize. The crisis was over. It was time to focus on their own problems now, not SHIELD’s.
Then again, Stephen knew why he hadn’t retreated already. The man standing by his side, muttering exasperatedly beneath his breath, the one Tony Stark. Since Titan, Tony had become something akin to his shadow, always showing up at the Sanctum, asking questions, seeking him out in meetings like this. Stephen had hated it at first, couldn’t bear to look at the man, not while his mind was filled to bursting with images of failed futures, grim realities with a broken and lost Ironman.
Now he found himself looking forward to those moments. Now it was so much more complicated with Tony’s warm and flirtatious smiles while Stephen was still tired and stuck in the creepy ethereal world of the Time Stone around his throat. Right now though…right now Stephen just wanted out. There were at least four bodies brushing up against him and people kept squeezing by and it was starting to become difficult to breathe. He had always hated crowded rooms, unexpected touches, even Wong had learned to keep his distance and make any intention to touch well-known ahead of time. Since Dormammu…
“Hey, Stephen are you alright?”
A hand landed on his arm, firm and too tight. Unexpectantly, pain flared from that touch, his vision tunnelled, and Stephen gasped. Stephen was moving without much though, feet stumbling past the crowds and someone saying his name, coloured in a concern that should have soothed him but only made his skin itch all the more.
The familiar sensation of a deep laugh rattled his bones, made Stephen’s chest tighten, breath trying to squeeze painfully from his lungs. Stephen found himself staring up at burning violet eyes, a scream wanting to tear up his throat, but he was suspended in horror as all his muscles locked down in anticipation of pain. He didn’t know what it would be this time; his limbs torn apart, maybe a thousand needles forcing themselves through his flesh and bone, or maybe something of a reprieve, the quick death of a stake through his body.
“Stephen, come on. Come back. Please, Stephen you got to snap out of it.”
A voice, small and insistent seemed to speak from somewhere in his mind, completely apart from where he was now, kneeling on the rock of a foreign place, with that laugh growing harsher, those eyes more intense.
“Stephen, its Tony. You know me, you have to come back to me.”
Something clicked abruptly and Stephen found himself aware of the trembling in his hands, of the way he wasn’t actually kneeling but sitting comfortably on a couch of some sort. Glancing up, Stephen saw the illusion crack, just for a second, but Dormammu’s face seemed to blur, becoming indistinct and he found himself blinking into the concerned brown eyes of Tony Stark.
Eyes darting around the room he realized they were in some kind of office, just the two of them. Tony kneeled at his feet, hands carefully not touching, expression twisted into something akin to anguish. Inhaling deeply, Stephen tried to ground himself, found his trembling fingers curling around the Time Stone at his neck, felt its quiet assurance.
Tony winced at the move, though he didn’t comment. Stephen knew he hated the stone, had suggested more then once that he take it off, just for a little while. Wong too had begun to suggest keeping it at Kamar-Taj, just for now. He didn’t, couldn’t bear to be parted from it just yet and he sensed the same reluctance in the stone.
“Stephen?” Tony spoke softly, as though afraid of setting him off again. “Are you back? Are you okay?”
Swallowing and shaking his head a bit, Stephen forced a weak smile, “how badly did I embarrass myself?”
The thought of the Agents, hell the other Avengers seeing him during a flashback was horrific. Stephen liked projecting calm and power, if only for the sake of Kamar-Taj, to keep SHIELD at bay with their questions and demands.
“Not at all.”
Stephen raised a skeptical eyebrow.
“Really,” Tony insisted. “You left quickly, that’s it. You were on autopilot; nobody could tell anything was wrong.”
“You did,” Stephen replied curiously.
“Of course. I was standing next to you.”
Something about that statement, while true, held a falsehood. Tony was watching him closely, just like he always seemed to these days, like he thought Stephen would disappear without a word, without a trace. Instead of the intensity being unsettling like it once was, Stephen found the tension slipping from his body, because with Tony, here, he was safe.
“Can I touch you?” Tony murmured.
“Yes.”
Strong calloused hands pulled him down into a hug, a little awkward with him still on his knees but incredibly comforting. The smell of expensive cologne did nothing to mask his natural scent beneath, metal and blood and sweat. They stayed like that for a long time until Stephen realized it was more for Tony then for him. He didn’t mind.
“Was it Titan?” he asked quietly.
“No.”
The mechanic pulled away; brows furrowed like he was solving a difficult puzzle. It didn’t take him long, after all, Tony was a genius and the answer was brutally simple, “you’ve seen worse things then the end of the world, haven’t you?”
Stephen knew he was asking about his flashback, about what could possibly haunt him besides Titan when it had happened only weeks earlier. Knew that the answer should be violet eyes and a deep groaning laugh. Instead, he thought about a body, crumpled in a metal suit and the dying of a pure blue light.
“Yes. Yes, I have.”
A gentle hand ran through his hair as Tony watched him, assessing. Stephen waited, had no urge to run from the question tickling the other man’s lips, “let’s go have lunch. Enjoy a day where the world is alive and normal.”
“I’d like that.”