Work Text:
“Tony.”
May waits until the glass doors to the lab have fully slid open before entering. She carefully watches her step for all the glass and debris laying around and is also completely attuned to the man on the very opposite end of the room. Pepper warned her but she’s still startled when she sees how haggard and pale he looks. Bony shoulders are peeking out from underneath his black tank top and his skinny legs are swimming in his grey sweatpants.
Admittedly, she doesn’t look her best self, either. Her unkempt hair is carelessly thrown up in a bun – a style she has always kind of looked down at in others – and the overlarge hoodie and sweatpants swallow her up. She enjoys the feeling, though, of being completely encased by something that is warm and cozy and not grief.
She plops down in front of him on the floor, arms coming to rest on her knees.
“May,” he acknowledges, his rigid gaze now fixated on her.
She clears her throat, soar from hours and hours of disuse. “Thank you, for letting me stay.”
“It’s the least I can do.”
They grow silent but, unlike every other silence they have had to endure since – since then, this one is comforting.
It’s not the silence of an empty apartment that she raced to when she saw what had started happening and was just waiting, begging the universe to spare her heart this one time.
It’s not the silence on board of a ship flying through the endless vastness of space which was not really silent at all because something was always rattling and breaking and he had company but had still felt like every important sound had disappeared together with the child in his arm.
And it’s not the silence in a room full of superheroes – pointless, useless and hopeless – in the aftermath of it all, trying to come up with a plan against the most randomest of calamities.
While Tony keeps staring straight ahead unmoving, May let’s her eyes wander through the room that used to be the brightest in the building and was now a dark void of debris and pain. Everything has been reduced to rubble and dust has started to settle on everything but the path from the door to where they’re sitting. Well, almost everything.
Her eyes land on the one thing that hasn’t been destroyed and with them she traces every outline of their faces, the silly pose, every single wrinkle of his laugh until her sight gets so blurry she can’t see the picture anymore. When she looks to the side she sees that Tony has followed her gaze.
She puts her cheek on her knees, head pointed vaguely in the direction of the framed picture.
“Do you remember the second time we met?”
He grunts in affirmation, eyes never leaving the picture, not even when they start to burn and the tears start slowly trickling down his cheeks. He lets them drop down to the floor where they join the marks of their predecessors.
“Do you regret it?”
May turns her head until she’s looking at him. “No.”
The admission is surprising enough to pierce through the shell of numbness he has built around his mind and prompts him to look at her, head cocked to the side. “Why not?”
“It wouldn’t have changed anything.” She’s certain and she wants him to believe her, too.
“It might have.”
She scoffs, “That’s not how this works.”
“We don’t know that,” he shoots back and it’s the most force he has put into any action ever since he gave Captain America a piece of his mind and immediately lost consciousness. It’s almost relieving, in a way, to let the anger at everything slowly trickle back in. He’s just scared of the pain that will undoubtedly follow.
May’s surprised at his reaction but seeing something alive behind his dark eyes gives her hope.
“He would’ve found away,” she says simply, “You were always right about that. No one could’ve possibly stopped him from fighting aliens and getting onto that ship. And nothing could’ve stopped him from,” she swallows hard, “going.” Then she meets his eyes dead on, putting a strength into her voice she hopes he knows to appreciate because she doesn’t have a lot of it laying around anymore.
“I don’t blame you.”
Tony looks away from her and exhales soundly, almost deafeningly loud in the quiet room. “I do.”
“Well, you shouldn’t.” She folds her legs underneath her, rubs the dust from the palms of her hands and sits up straighter. “Because when you’re doing that you’re not working on getting him back.”
His head snaps up, an action so fast he loses focus for a moment. “We don’t know that we can.”
“I know,” she nods leaning forward almost conspiratorially, “But I know if anyone can do it, it’s you.” When he doesn’t reply, she reaches out to touch his cold hand. “I trust you to do everything in your power to make it happen. And, you know,” she smiles the tiniest hint of a smile, “I once heard you say you have a lot of power.”
Her words almost make him burst into tears but when he opens his mouth a throaty burst of laughter comes out that startles both of them.
“I did say that,” he says breathlessly, and sits up slowly. Then, with a lot more emotion than he has had in days. “I’m sorry for not bringing him home. And I’m sorry for wallowing instead of getting to work.”
“I know,” she smiles and takes his hand, effectively pulling him up with her. “But you’re the smartest person on this planet and I’d feel a lot more inadequat if you didn’t have flaws, too.”
Tony puts an arm around her shoulder just as she puts one around his waist and together they make their way past all the destruction towards the door. Just before they’re heading out, Tony leans forward to snag the framed picture from its place on the workbench.
May watches him examine every little detail of the picture up close as she had earlier. She leans into him.
“Thank you,” she whispers, “for wallowing. I feel less alone knowing someone misses him like I do.”
When she finally puts her arms around Peter’s neck again, she squeezes her eyes shut and sends a prayer into the universe to make sure her friend would wake up, too, because as indescribably happy as she is in that instant, she can’t bear to lose a family member again.