Work Text:
Stephen wakes very, very slowly. It’s an unfamiliar sensation: med school taught him to wake instantly, being a surgeon reinforced the habit, and sorcerous emergencies have benefitted from it too often to lose it. Nevertheless, this time he feels like he’s swimming to consciousness through jello. When he finally pries his eyes open, his whole body feels twice its normal weight. He groans. What happened?
Moments later, Tony Stark leans into his field of view. “Nothing of significance?” he says, scowling.
Stephen groans louder. Now he remembers.
“Nothing of significance!”
“I’m not awake,” Stephen manages. “Let’s do this later.”
“Like hell,” Tony snaps. “Wong says you tore a hole in your soul. What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking that I’d lived more than fourteen million lifetimes,” Stephen says tiredly, “and that you hadn’t even had one. You deserved so much more than that, and I was so tired. I’m still tired.”
Tony jerks back, almost out of Stephen’s field of view. He catches himself and leans back in. “I don’t want anyone dying for me.”
“Too bad,” Stephen says, his eyelids drooping, sliding towards sleep once more. “I don’t want to live without you.”
He’s asleep before Tony responds.