Chapter Text
"Tony!" Stephen holds the man close but not very tight, trying to avoid causing him extra pain. The image of him, half his face melted off and bloody, so very bloody had already burned its way into Stephen's mind. "Tony, please, just hang on a little longer… for me. Please. Please."
" Hey wizard ," Tony coughs. " I gotta tell ya something. "
"What, Tony? Anything, you can tell me anything, I promise." Stephen was holding back tears as he placed a hand on Tony's face.
" I.. I love you. " He put a weak hand over Stephen's on, his voice slowly grew quieter until his face became completely expressionless. He let out one last cough, and that was it.
"I love you too, Tony… no… Tony, please. Please come back. Please!" Stephen puts his hand over Tony's heart as tears flow down his cheeks. Stephen silently asks the universe to go back just a few minutes, so he could fix all of this, so Tony didn't have to die. "....rest now. You deserve it. I'll be right where you left me, okay?"
He feels a hand on his shoulder, then another on the other. He lets out an anguished scream, then just sobs and sobs. He hears others crying behind him but can't bring himself to move his head off Tony's suit.
"F.R.I.D.A.Y, power down," he chokes out.
" Right away boss. "
Stephen holds Tony's limp corpse in his arms, managing to look at his face again. He pressed a soft kiss to the less mangled side of his face and fixed his hair a little bit.
•
"Doctor Strange, why are you awake? Jeez, you look rough-" America crosses her arms as she approaches him.
"Can it, kid. You should be resting. You have training tomorrow." Strange replies tiredly, staring out at the rain.
"Nope. We got the day off. It's Remembrance Day. You haven't left your room in three days."
"It's not your business."
"Is it Nat? Cap? Nah, you don't seem like you would like him."
"It's not your business." Strange repeats, harsher.
"So it's Tony?"
"Get out of my room."
"Struck a nerve huh?" America stands in front of him.
"Get out before I do something rash." Strange never looks at her eyes, he stares straight through her.
America just nods and leaves. "You should probably get a shave or something."
The door of his room shuts, and Stephen sighs, dropping his head into his hands. He rubs his face.
Stephen Strange had become a mess since Tony died. Tomorrow would mark a year since.
His hair had grown long and his face hadn't been shaved in a month. He was wearing an old Pink Floyd shirt that belonged to Tony and barely fit him, and sweatpants.
America was right, he did need a shave. He sighs and stands up, walking into his bathroom. He flicks the light on and grabs his shaving cream, smearing it over his face. He grabs his razor, but his hands won't stop shaking. He took a breath and tried again, but nothing.
He sets the razor down and just puts his hands on his face, tears begin to form.
"It's okay baby, just take a breath… Here, let me do it. Just keep your head still, okay? Oh, Stephen, don't cry. I've got you."
The words played back through Stephen's head over and over as he began to cry. He wipes his eyes and then he sees it again. That horrible, horrible image burned into his mind.
Tony's face half melted and blood leaking out of places it shouldn't be and dark eyes nearly lifeless.
He gasps, it was more forced out of him than anything. That image haunted his dreams every night, or almost every time he closed his eyes, really.
He just sits on the floor of his bathroom for a while, calming himself down until he finally gets back up, and just uses magic to steady his hands while he shaves.
He sits back on his bed and looks at the picture framed at his bedside. Peter took that picture. It was of him, and Tony, passed out together and napping. It was a good picture. Peter printed and framed it himself, and gave it to him at Tony's funeral.
He takes the frame into his shaking hands, subconsciously rubbing his thumb over Tony's face. "Oh Tony," he says. "I know people questioned your loyalty, didn't they? To your country, to your company, to the Stark name, to the Avengers… to me… but uh, you sure showed them loyalty, huh?" He laughs a bit, then his face contorts back into a frown.
"I'm so fucking pathetic. Talking to a fucking picture frame like it can hear me, like it's you . It's not you. You're gone. It's uh… it's always been for the greater good, huh Stark? … I miss you more than anything." He sets the frame back down, and lays on his bed. He turns his head to the side and for a millisecond, he swore he saw Tony there, laying on his side, faced away.
No, he was just tired and seeing things. That's all it was. Seeing things. He lays his head back down and curls up into himself. But he couldn't shut his eyes for long. He kept looking back at the piano in the corner of his room. And the violin sat next to it. He forces his eyes shut, but he doesn't last for more than a minute. He gives in, and treks over to the piano.
Before even opening it, he picks up the violin. Stephen had it custom made for him, as a wedding gift. In fancy writing on the side, it read Anthony Strange . He hadn't gotten much use out of it, but he appreciated it a lot and he made sure Stephen knew.
Ironically enough, the piano had also been a gift from Tony. It just said 'Strange' on it, etched across the center. He sighs as he opens the lid and closes his eyes, letting his memory guide him through a song. It sounds wrong without Tony playing with him. Everything he used to do is wrong without Tony.
Still, he continues, and it doesn't sound too bad for him not having played in a year.
He finishes stumbling through the song and finally decides to rest. He closes his eyes, rolls over, and hugs a pillow to his chest. Eventually he drifts off, entering the brief embrace of the multiverse - or, simply, having a dream.
***
"Tony!!" Stephen whines, brushing snow out of his hair, before being pelted with another snowball.
"Yes honey?"
"Stop, it's cold," he keeps his whiny tone as he forces Tony into a hug, then forcing his cold nose into the crook of his neck.
"AHH!! YOU BASTARD!!" Tony groans, trying to push Stephen off him, but he slips on the icy sidewalk and they end up in a pile.
"Wow. You're embarrassing. You know this is not very good for my image as a famous neurosurgeon- hmphhmhpm-" His words were cut off by Tony shoving a handful of snow in his mouth as he struggled to get up, then laughing at him as he hurriedly spit out all the snow.
"I hate you, Stark." He says dryly, reluctantly taking the hand offering to help him up. He doesn't hesitate to wrap his arms around his lover, though.
"Love you too, Strange."
"If that was true you wouldn't have worn that horrendous sweater on our date." Stephen says as they continue through the cold streets of New York, heading back to their penthouse.
"Oh shut up, you said red looked good on me!"
"It does, my love, but the design on that sweater is disgusting. You should let me buy you more clothes, hm? You always end up loving the things I pick out for you, because I have good taste-"
"You wore a $1000 suit when I said I wanted to get overdressed for a fast food joint."
"Your point?"
"My point is I'm a grown ass man who can get clothes for myself."
"Fa la la la fuck you," Stephen hums with pure love, leading the love of his life through the door of their building and leaning in for a kiss when they stepped into the elevator.
***
Then Stephen woke up from the sunlight shining through his window right into his eye. Fuck. He lays in bed for a while longer. Today was a year since Tony died in his arms.
He sighed and threw his legs over the side of the bed. He got dressed, pulled his hair back into a slick ponytail, and set out, heading to the cemetery in New York. He bumped into America in the hallway, who then spilled her popcorn all over the floor.
"Oh, sorry Stephen," she says, pocketing her phone and crouching down to pick up the mess. "Waaait. Stephen! You left your room!" She hugged him.
"Yeah. I'm, uh… I'm gonna visit him today. Do you wanna come with..?"
"Wouldn't it be a little weird? I mean, I never even knew him.."
"Thousands of people didn't know him and still visit him every day."
"....fair." America nods. "Okay, I'll come."
"Alright then."
When they arrived, America was the slightest bit overwhelmed.
There were three statues there.
One in memory of Iron Man, one for Agent Romanoff, and one for Captain America. But they all also had simple tombstones in the cemetery. Stephen had a bouquet of white tulips in hand as he walked straight to Tony's tombstone.
Anthony "Tony" Strange.
Loving husband and father.
May 29th 1970 - September 3rd 2023.
Stephen kneels down in front of it, placing the flowers down. "Hey, Tones.. been a while, huh? Sorry for.. not coming sooner. This is America, she's uh.. a little like my daughter. She's a pretty good kid. I think you'd like her. She's actually a lot like you." Stephen sighs. "I love you 3000. Cya round, Stark." He bows his head and lets a few tears fall down his cheeks and onto the gravestone before he stands up and begins to walk away.
America hugs him. "I- I'm sorry, Stephen. I get what you're feeling. It sucks."
Stephen stops, and slowly hugs her back. "I miss him so much, America..'
"I know. I miss my moms like that too. It'll… it'll hurt less with time."
He doesn't respond.
Eventually, as they're walking back, "do you wanna get lunch?" Stephen asks.
"Always. I'm always starving," she says. "Whatcha feeling?"
He shrugs, "maybe pizza or something. Why don't you pick? You obviously know what's good, Ms. Chaves ," he says in an overly fancy tone - a little like J.A.R.V.I.S. - giggling a little when she shoves his shoulder.
"Alright then! Follow me." She started marching off, already exactly sure of where they were going.
The streets of New York were strangely quiet today. Still busy, still filled with people, but the air of grieving and pain and sadness that washed over the city today made it quieter than normal. This street was lined with trees that were orange and red, but that beautiful whisper of autumn wouldn't last long.
Sun shines through the branches and makes fun little patterns on the sidewalk and Stephen absentmindedly follows them. It was a habit he picked up from Tony. God, he missed Tony. But he was gonna try his best not to let himself get too depressed today.
America finally led them through the door to a hole-in-the-wall place. "¿ Que paso, Tiá Rosa? ' She calls out… makes sense, the sign on the door said Tiá Rosa's!
"Hola America, estoy ocupada como siempre. ¿Quién es tu amigo?"
"This is Stephen," she says in English, gesturing to the man who gives an awkward little wave. "Or, Doctor Strange."
"Doctor?"
"Yeah! y'know, like… the Sorcerer Supreme? Defeated Thanos?"
"YOU KNOW HIM?" Rosa asks, dumbfounded.
"I'm not the Sorcerer Supreme anymore-"
"Yeah! He kinda saved me from being killed, so…"
"Ahh! Good for you, hm? Ah, well go sit. I'll bring you menus in a minute."
Stephen sat down awkwardly, "so.. you come here often I take it?"
"Yeah, it's pretty nice."
[im skipping this part because i hate writing characters eating so much it irks me plus its just hard to write]
"Thank you, America," Stephen said as they walked back to the Sanctum. "I… I apologize for last night. I was being an ass in my grief."
"Yeah, you were. But I'll assume that's something you two shared? Being arrogant assholes?"
"Yeah. It's why we didn't get along at first, and then it's why we did. 'You put two hard-headed dickheads on a team together and you're gonna get yourself one hell of a plan.' It's something Tony used to say when the rest of the team complained about our wild ideas. They always worked anyway. He loved rubbing it in their faces."
"Tony, we have a second chance to save everyone. Isn't it worth it to try?"
"I have my second chance right here, Nat." Tony had said, pointing to his wedding ring. "Look, come have dinner with us. Stephen's cooking, and he's shockingly good at it."
"....I mean, I'm game-" Scott chirped, eventually prying agreement out of the others.
That was a good dinner, Stephen remembers. The best dinner in a while, and it was really the last time they were all only people around each other, not their superhero personas, just themselves. Not Iron Man, not Dr. Strange, not Captain America or Agent Romanoff or Antman. Just Tony, Stephen, Steve, Nat, and Scott (and Peter!). It was one of the last moments Stephen had felt himself.
"Hey, Stephen?" America snaps her fingers in front of his face. "Come back to me, Stephen! Come back from space!!"
"I'm here, America, sorry… kinda went on autopilot."
"Yeah, I know, you almost walked into three walls."
"Oh-"
"You are a mess, Mister Doctor Stephen Strange," America says, like a doctor giving a diagnosis. That thought made him smile a bit.
America could make a good doctor, but no pressure, obviously , he thought.
"Don't call me 'Mr. Dr.' That's just weird."
"You're just weird!"
He laughed with caring exasperation as he jammed his hands into the pockets of his jacket as they finally arrived at 177A Bleecker Street. He opened the door and held it for America like a gentlemanly butler, earning a light nudge in his ribs from her elbow, forcing a chuckle out of him. He follows behind her and shuts the door, sighing.
"Stephen," Wong says, not looking up from his book and tea. "There's some tea left in the kitchen. For you and America both."
"Thank you, Wong," he nods. "What are you reading?"
"Super-secret Sorcerer Supreme books."
"Haha, very funny." He says deadpan. "Seriously, what are you reading?"
Wong turns a page, and finally looks up. "I'm reading a sci-fi book."
"Really? Sci-fi?" America pipes up, sitting down on one side of Wong with her tea, Stephen doing the same on his other side, with a book of his own.
"Hush up, America." Wong bites, but with no real mean intent.
"No, I'm not teasing! Just didn't take you as a sci-fi guy."
"America, we've fought aliens before. We are sci-fi." Stephen says, eyes glued to his book.
"...I mean, so am I, but that's true." She says as she pulls her phone out.
The next four hours are spent in silence other than the keys of a phone tapping and pages of books turning.
Eventually, Stephen retires to his room for the night, after America makes him play Smash Bros and gets her ass whooped in it. ("How are you so good at this?!" "I fathered a teenage boy for five years." "Oh…")
He takes a long, long shower, appreciating the feeling of suds and boiling water run down between his shoulder blades and through his hair. He steps out in his bathrobe and, after drying and brushing his hair, changes into actual PJ pants and throws himself back onto his bed. Aside from visiting his husband's grave, the day has been pretty fun. Maybe he should stop moping and start living a life again. Meh, he'll think about it in the morning.
He pulls his phone out from a drawer in his nightstand, seeing texts from the old Avengers group chat that was only active every few months.
Hawkeye [5:46 P.M.]
Hey. How's everyone holding up?
Bruce [6:15 P.M.]
I miss her, but I think she wants me to be happy, and I am.
Scotty [6:47 P.M.]
I'm holding up okay. I'm sad but you know, it's a part of the whole hero gig.
Strange [9:58 P.M.]
I've definitely been better. But today wasn't too bad.
Hawkeye [10:03 P.M.]
Same boat. Well, I'm gonna head off to bed now. Good night.
Strange [10:05 P.M.]
Good night.
He shuts his phone off and shoves it back into the drawer, and closes his eyes. "Hey Tones," he says into the dark of his room.
" Hey Stephie ," Tony's voice coos next to him.
Stephen shoots straight up, whipping his head to the side. "..T-Tony…?"
" Hey honey. Long time no see, huh? "
TBC.