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When it’s all over, when Thanos is defeated, T’Challa throws an absolutely ridiculous party in Wakanda. Everyone goes; the battle is only a few days in the past and they could all use a few drinks alongside people who understood.
Tony doesn’t bother trying to circulate. He’s not here to network, and T’Challa is playing host, so Tony’s free to unwind. He finds a comfortable seat, stretches out, and sips his drink, letting his gaze drink in the sight of friends, colleagues, and those of uncertain status. It’s good to see them alive. All of them.
Eventually, the back of his neck prickles and he glances around to find Doctor Strange staring at him. His expression is so out of place that it takes Tony a minute to place it: it’s grief. He frowns. Given the size of the battle, the lack of casualties is a miracle, and Strange is the one who found the way; he ought to be celebrating. So Tony gets up and makes his way over.
Strange looks away when he realizes Tony is approaching him. Tony doesn’t let that deter him. “You okay?” he asks quietly.
“Fine.”
Tony waits, letting his raised eyebrows speak for him.
Finally, Strange slumps. “It’s going to be awhile,” he murmurs, “before I look at any of you and see the victory instead of the failures.”
Tony’s not sure he’ll ever understand what Strange went through to find the narrow path to victory, but he doesn’t think he needs to. Not for this. He turns to stand next to Strange, shuffling close enough that their shoulders press firmly together. “Keep on looking,” he says, nodding out at the celebrating crowd. He turns his head to catch Strange’s eye. “We’ll be here.”
Strange smiles faintly. “You always are. Thank you, Tony.”