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After it’s over, they don’t all leave the Abbey at the same time. Steve, Carol, Bruce, Peter, and Logan leave first, the morning after a… It can’t really be called a celebration, not when they’ve lost The Hunter, but the world has been saved, and that’s worth marking.
Anyway, those five go first. The Midnight Suns stick around a while longer. The Hunter was one of theirs, after all, even if they weren’t with the group alive and in person for very long. But Robbie eventually heads home to his little brother, and Blade leaves to check in with his people. Illyana is reluctant to go while there’s still any uncertainty at all about The Hunter’s fate, but eventually Wanda convinces her that untangling what happened to them and Lilith might take years. Caretaker similarly shuts down Nico’s suggestion that they use the Staff of One to solve the problem: until they know exactly what happened, they can’t know exactly how to phrase the spell. Nico and Illyana eventually head off together.
Which leaves Wanda, Stephen, Caretaker, the ghost, and… Tony.
He knows they’re wondering why he’s still hanging around. If everyone had taken bets before the final battle, Tony is sure they would have put money on him leaving first. He’s never liked the Abbey, and he likes being there when it’s so empty even less. But the Tower has been destroyed, and… Stephen is here.
It’s stupid. Stephen shouldn’t weigh into Tony’s decision making at all. As they’ve grown closer over the last months, Tony has made overtures, and they’ve all been politely ignored. Okay, he hasn’t actually asked Stephen if he’d like to get romantically involved with Tony, but there’s only so many ways to interpret an invitation to come back to Tony’s bedroom. It’s not like there’s anything else to do there. Frankly, the fact that Stephen had declined is proof he understood: if he’d thought Tony just wanted to talk, he’d have come in.
But despite the tactful rebuffs—he’s stubborn, okay, he’d tried more than once—Tony can’t bring himself to leave just yet. Seeing Stephen at breakfast, playing games with him in the evening, even sharing a workshop… Tony’s going to miss it. Arguing with Stephen is fun. Figuring out how to make magic and tech work together for The Hunter’s benefit has stretched Tony’s engineering creativity, something that hasn’t happened in years. And Stephen notices when Tony is having a bad day, even when he’s trying to cover. He notices, and he tries to help.
It would be easier if Tony thought Stephen genuinely wasn’t interested. Tony’s been turned down before, he knows how to move on. The thing is, Tony’s pretty sure Stephen is interested. It’s in the way he lingers in a room if Tony is there. It’s the look in his eyes when they’re soaking in the pools at the same time. Sometimes Tony thinks he can even feel it in Stephen’s magic, which he thought was a foolish and excessively romantic bit of projection until Stephen explained how strongly his brand of magic is influenced by the caster.
No one else in the Abbey describes Stephen’s protective wards as warm.
But however Stephen feels about Tony, he’s chosen not to start something with him and Tony has to respect that. Eventually, he concedes that Stephen isn’t even going to come back to New York with him. Not yet, maybe not until the Sanctum is rebuilt. So he swallows his disappointment, packs his things, and goes to find Stephen for a goodbye and a portal.
He’s in the library, of course, along with Wanda and Caretaker and the ghost. Tony lingers in the doorway. The others can be as chummy as they want with Agatha, Tony is keeping his distance. Anyway, it gives him a minute to study Stephen. He’s floating cross-legged as he reads, because of course he is. He says it’s more comfortable, and that’s probably true, but he also thinks magic is fun and takes any excuse he can find to practice it.
Tony smiles slightly, gaze tracing the sharp line of Stephen’s jaw down to the point of his goatee. A moment later, Stephen looks up and catches sight of Tony in the doorway. He smiles. “Tony! Were you looking for me?”
“Yeah,” Tony says, heart sinking. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to deprive you of my presence, Doc. There’s a lot to do back in New York.”
Stephen's face falls. “Yes, of course. A multitude of tasks await me, as well, for many of the same reasons.”
Maybe one last try. “If you need a place to stay while you’re putting the Sanctum back together, I could put you up,” Tony suggests. He finds a smile. “I think we got pretty good at sharing space by the end, there.”
Stephen hesitates, but Tony can’t say he’s surprised when the man shakes his head. “I can arrange my own accommodation, though I do appreciate the offer.”
“Fair enough,” Tony says, swallowing his disappointment. “Could I get a portal? Somehow I think a cab would have a hard time finding this place.”
“Of course.”
Stephen is perfectly capable of casting a portal right there in the library, but he doesn’t. Instead, he walks with Tony out to the platform they’d always used to travel to and from battles. Tony doesn't protest, even though it means he has to carry his bag. He didn’t bring a lot of stuff to the Abbey, but it includes the armor, so it’s not exactly light. He’s still sorry when they arrive.
Stephen casts the portal, and Tony pauses before stepping through. “Good luck with figuring out what happened to The Hunter.”
“Thank you,” Stephen says. He smiles faintly. “When I return to New York, perhaps we could compare notes on reconstruction efforts.”
“Sure thing.” It’s not what Tony wants, but it’s not nothing. He hefts his bag. “See you around, Strange.”
Stephen just nods, and Tony steps through the portal and leaves the Abbey behind.
~*~
Stephen lingers on the platform for a long moment before sighing and making his way back to the library.
He knows as soon as he steps inside that they’re about to get thoroughly distracted from their research. “Caretaker—” he begins, but she just talks over him.
“That was an invitation to a lot more than a place to stay, just in case you didn’t notice,” she says.
“I’m aware.” Stephen retrieves his book and pulls his legs up to sit in a cross-legged float.
Caretaker does not take the hint. “Then why decline? You’re clearly interested.” Stephen keeps his eyes on the book, although he’s not reading it. “Stephen, don’t lose time to pride. After Agatha died, I would have given anything for another minute with her. You don’t want to look back one day and wish for time you could have had.”
Stephen closes the book sharply and meets Caretaker’s gaze. “Pride has nothing to do with it.”
“Then what’s the problem?” Caretaker demands.
“Sara,” Agatha begins to interrupt, but Caretaker silences her with a gesture.
“I don’t mean to diminish your experience,” Caretaker tells the ghost, “but you knew I was still here. You could watch over me, at least. I thought I’d lost you forever. I’m not going to watch a friend throw away happiness.”
Stephen rubs his forehead. “I’m not throwing it away. I’m sacrificing it to avoid a considerably greater amount of pain.”
“If you’re afraid of rejection—”
“I’m afraid he won’t reject me,” Stephen snaps. “Sara. Caretaker. I haven’t aged in at least ten years. As far as I can determine, I’m immortal. Tony is not. If I begin a life with him, then I must, inevitably, live without him.”
Everyone is quiet for a moment.
“You may be immortal,” Agatha says eventually, “but you are not unkillable. You cannot be certain that Tony will predecease you.”
“Perhaps not,” Stephen allows, “but it is exceedingly more likely.”
“Stephen,” Caretaker says seriously. “Please understand that I speak from experience when I say: It’s worth it. Even if Agatha had never come back to me at all,” she exchanges a tender glance with the ghost, “even then, I would not have given up the years we had together to spare myself that pain.”
Stephen shakes his head. “I hope you will forgive me for insisting it’s not the same. The Blood are long-lived, but they are not immortal. There is a natural end to your pain. A limit. There would be no such end for me.”
“It’s not just the possibility of loss,” Wanda murmurs, looking at her hands. “There are experiences that you can never share with Tony. His life will proceed through the natural stages of aging, and yours will not.”
“That doesn’t necessarily preclude closeness,” Caretaker says sharply.
Stephen doesn’t want to argue. She and Agatha are going to have to navigate the immense change that Agatha’s death has put her through. “The obstacles begin to pile up,” he says instead. “I care for Tony. Very much. But this divide…” He shakes his head. “It’s too much.”
“There are precious few immortals in the world.” Caretaker crosses her arms. “Are you going to spend eternity alone, then?”
“I have cultivated a number of meaningful friendships,” Stephen says firmly. “Including with some very long-lived people. Those relationships are no less valuable than a romantic one.”
“Not less valuable, but they are different,” Caretaker argues. “If you want a romantic relationship—and it’s clear to me that you do—then a friendship isn’t going to satisfy that need.”
Stephen lets out a sharp breath. “This matter is not up for discussion. I have entertained your questions and concerns because you are my friend, but I have made up my mind and interrogating me further on the issue will not be received kindly.”
“Stephen—”
“That’s enough, Sara,” Agatha interrupts. “We will respect Stephen’s wishes in this matter.”
Caretaker gives her a look that disagrees, but she leaves it. For now. Stephen knows her well enough to know that the conversation is likely to recur, but he’s grateful for the reprieve regardless. Managing his feelings for Tony is difficult enough without a friend urging him on. He’s very nearly accepted one of Tony’s invitations a multitude of times. Only the vision of Tony moving on in life while Stephen remains behind, unchanging, holds him back. He wants a partnership, and Tony can’t give him that. No one can.
~*~
Advanced Idea Mechanics might be Tony’s least favorite group of villains.
Hydra is bad, yes, but there’s something about a group that specifically touts itself as intelligent and scientifically minded and then uses that to hurt people that gets his back up like nothing else. The worst part is, they have some really great ideas… and then they fuck them up.
Extremis is a perfect example. An incredible marriage of nanotechnology and virology with the potential to heal people on a scale never previously imagined, and when they ran into a problem with stability they used it to turn people into bombs instead of buckling down and doing the work to stabilize it properly. All that brilliance and they just throw it away.
Fortunately, Maya Hansen is not an idiot. Thanks to her smuggling a sample out of AIM and bringing it to Tony, the bombs have been neutralized, AIM has been smacked down again (even if Tony knows better than to think they’re gone), and Extremis has been stabilized (although it will only actually work for a tiny fraction of the population).
And all Tony had to do was inject himself with a very, very experimental version.
“I’m going to remind you one more time that I’m not a medical doctor,” Bruce says, his eyes on the monitor where the data from Tony’s scans are loading. With the Tower still under construction, they’re at a back up location for the Avengers, but Tony has made sure all locations have a full medical suite. “Strange would be happy to take a look for you.”
“I know he would be,” Tony says, sitting up on the scanning bed and pulling on a black t-shirt. “But this isn’t just medicine, this is a mix of medicine and technology used to comprehensively alter someone’s DNA to enhance them. That is your area.”
Bruce just hums. He’s absorbed in the data now. Tony doesn’t bother looking. He knows what it says already, he just wants another opinion on the long term impacts. Tony swallows his impatience and waits.
“Well,” Bruce says, sitting back from the monitor and pushing up his glasses before spinning his chair to face Tony. “The changes are comprehensive. Obviously I can’t sample every cell in your body, but I’ve been unable to identify one that hasn’t been altered. Starting from the top, the armor control interface that you wired into your brain doesn’t appear to be impacting normal brain function, but you really should get Strange to look at that part.”
“I will,” Tony promises. Messing with his brain hadn’t been his first choice, but matching the abilities of the Extremis bombers hadn’t been good enough; he’d needed an edge they didn’t have access to.
“Continuing with the central nervous system, your reaction time has improved by a significant fraction. I’d need more focused tests to quantify the amount. Do you think faster as well?” Bruce asked.
Tony nods. “I have to, to make the armor control work smoothly.”
Bruce nods back and goes on. “Sight, hearing, and smell are all now at the upper end of human ability, which I’m quite certain they weren’t before. Not at the super level, though.” He shoots Tony an inquisitive look.
“I didn’t want to make major structural changes.”
“Fair. No changes to taste; I’m assuming you didn’t consider it strategically valuable.” That and Tony knew more than a few enhanced people who had serious dietary problems due to oversensitive palates—the line between tasty and repulsive is very thin, it turns out. But he just nods.
“Touch ties into the regenerative capacity you’ve given yourself. It really is impressive.” Bruce takes a moment to skim through the data again, humming in interest. “All the accumulated damage of your life, up to and including the damage you’ve taken as Iron Man, has been healed. I think you may have grown an entirely new liver, by the way. You have a healing factor on par with Logan’s, now. Increased resilience, too, though you’re not going to be deflecting any knives barehanded.” Bruce tilts his head. “I assume touch is the issue? It seems like you could have given yourself that ability.”
“Got it in one,” Tony says. “I wasn’t confident I could untangle sensory input from skin’s other functions in the time I had. Invulnerability isn’t worth it if I end up numb from head to toe.”
“A valid concern.” Bruce turns away from the data to face Tony. “Hulk isn’t numb, but his tactile input is certainly reduced.” He smiles faintly. “I suppose you have the advantage over him, now.”
Tony laughs. “Over Hulk? Good one, Bruce.”
“I’m serious,” Bruce says, adjusting his glasses again. “Hulk is more resistant to damage, but you heal it faster. And you’ll certainly outlive him. Me.”
“Outlive you?” Tony repeats, startled. “What are you talking about? Hulk is practically invincible—it’d be way easier to kill me before the healing kicks in than it would be to do lethal damage to you now that Hulk is back.”
“Hulk may be invulnerable, but he does age,” Bruce says patiently. “You won’t. Not anymore.”
Tony shakes his head. “Regeneration isn’t immortality, Bruce.”
Bruce raises his eyebrows. “Isn’t it? How old is Logan, Tony?”
Tony frowns. He doesn’t actually know Logan very well. Wolverine is a good ally, but he isn’t exactly chatty. He looks mid-thirties, but Bruce wouldn’t be asking if that was true. “I don’t know.”
“He’s nearly 200,” Bruce says. “He was born in 1832.”
Nearly 200?
Tony doesn’t reply.
“Aging is just an accumulation of molecular and cellular damage. Regeneration on this scale,” Bruce taps the screen displaying the data, “more than keeps up with that damage. No one knows how long Logan will live. Not even Logan. And his healing factor is natural, which means it’s likely to become less effective over time, if exceptionally slowly. Yours won’t.”
“Yeah, well,” Tony says, forcing lightness into his voice, “I’ll probably provoke someone into turning me into paste long before that’s an issue.”
Bruce doesn’t stay long after that. Maybe he can tell that Tony’s not really paying attention anymore.
Immortality hadn’t been part of the plan. Tony had only been thinking of what he needed to beat the Extremis bombs. By that point he’d taken so much damage a healing factor seemed like a basic requirement, and why not crank it up to the maximum? He needed the advantage.
It was probably reversible—he’d programmed Extremis once, he could do it again—but something in Tony recoiled from the idea of intentionally putting a countdown on his own life. Your natural lifespan was your natural lifespan, but going out of his way to implement his own death… It reminds him of those moments when he’s tempted to drink: it would kill him, but there would be relief before that.
Tony hasn’t had a drink in years.
Still, it’s strange to think of outliving Bruce. Between Hulk’s indestructibility and the damage Tony has done to himself over the years, he always took it for granted that he would go first. Hell, he’s taken it for granted that most of the superhero set would outlive him, deaths in the line of duty aside.
The knowledge lurks in his brain like a popcorn husk caught in the gums: not so painful you have to deal with it immediately, but irritating enough you can’t stop poking at it. Arguing with Pepper about paperwork: One day she won’t be there to argue anymore. Training with Steve: He’s going to get too old for this, and you won’t. Fighting alongside Carol: How long will she live?
Eventually, Tony makes himself look up Stephen to get his brain checked like he promised he would. It takes awhile, because thinking about getting his brain checked means thinking about everything else. He finally calls and sets it up because he’s not doing such a great job not thinking about the immortality thing, anyway.
And if he’s going to lose everyone eventually, he should probably stop avoiding the person he’s going to miss the most.
~*~
As much as Stephen had been looking forward to seeing Tony again, he wishes it hadn’t happened like this. Tony’s battles with the human bombs—at least those that had been televised—had had Stephen’s heart in his mouth. The armor generally did an excellent job of protecting Tony, but the hits he’d taken, the fire… Stephen had had to remind himself more than once that if Lilith couldn’t vanquish Tony, AIM was hardly going to manage it.
It’s still a relief to hear from him.
Less of a relief to be told Tony needs his brain examined. Medicine doesn’t understand the brain nearly well enough to do something like wire control technology into it. Leave it to Tony to push the envelope. As a disincentive to repeat the procedure, Stephen insists on scanning him magically—Tony already has MRI and CT scans, which Stephen has of course reviewed, but magic is more thorough in this area—in addition to conducting a full neurological exam.
“Ultimately,” Stephen says, “I can’t say that your brain function is normal: you’ve enhanced it and added new systems to manage. However, the adjustments that have been made—both intentionally by you via Extremis and systemically by your brain in order to integrate those changes—don’t appear to be maladaptive. Have you noticed any troublesome effects since the process completed?”
“Nope,” Tony leans back into the couch and puts his feet up on the coffee table. It feels incongruous to be having this discussion in the ordinary townhouse Stephen has been renting while the Sanctum is rebuilt. Months later and Stephen still isn’t used to it.
“Make note of any changes you experience,” Stephen says, dismissing his magical model of Tony’s brain and handing him the tablet of data. “But otherwise you appear to be in perfect health.”
“Perfect sure is the word,” Tony says, shaking his head as he takes the tablet.
“Is there a problem?” Stephen asks, brow creasing in concern.
Tony hesitates for a long moment. Stephen resists the urge to press. There’s clearly something else going on, but Stephen knows better, by now, than to force a discussion. “The healing factor I gave myself,” he says finally. “According to Bruce, it’s as good as Logan’s. Better in some ways. Which means—”
“You’re now effectively immortal,” Stephen finishes, his heart leaping into a faster rhythm despite himself.
Tony. Immortal.
“Got it in one,” Tony sighs.
“I take this is bad news?” Stephen ventures. Silently, he prays that Tony doesn’t ask Stephen to help him reverse the procedure. Surely, if that was what he wanted, he’d do it on his own and not tell anyone immortality had ever been an option.
Tony makes a face. “Bad is the wrong word. I mean, I could reverse it, but that feels self-destructive in a way I’ve spent a lot of time getting away from. I just can’t stop thinking about everything that’s going to be different now. It’s like I just found out I knocked someone up—my future just took a hard left turn.”
A chuckle escapes Stephen at the comparison. “That’s a remarkably apt analogy,” he says.
“Thanks,” Tony flashes him a smile, but it fades quickly. “I guess it’s going to take awhile to come to terms with the idea that I’m going to outlive everyone I know.”
Stephen’s racing heart feels like it climbs up into his throat. After all the times Stephen has turned him down, there’s no guarantee that their shared immortality will matter to Tony. But. What if it does? “Not everyone,” Stephen says carefully.
Tony shrugs. “Logan is good in a fight, but he’s not exactly a friend.”
“I wasn’t referring to Logan.” Stephen sits next to Tony on the sofa and takes a deep breath. “I was referring to me.”
Tony freezes, then quickly straightens up, feet coming down off the coffee table, and turns to face Stephen. “You? You’re immortal?”
In the face of Tony’s shock, Stephen can only nod.
“Since when?” Tony demands.
“I can’t give you a precise timeline,” Stephen says, spreading his hands. “I noticed I wasn’t aging anymore about ten years ago. I investigated and was able to verify the permanence of the effect, but not its origin.” He smiles faintly. “I’ve handled too many artifacts and channeled too many spells to ever be certain.”
Tony hesitates. “You never said anything.”
Ah. “I became aware of it years before I met you. Before I met most of those I know today,” Stephen says. “In most respects, it simply hasn’t come up. I am older than I appear, but not by so much that the immortality is apparent.”
“In most respects,” Tony repeats, tilting his head and looking at Stephen intently. “This is why you never took me up on any of my invitations, isn’t it?”
“Indeed.” Stephen pauses, then gathers his courage and goes on. “I assure you it wasn’t for lack of feeling. Rather, I feared an ever increasing depth of emotion for someone bound to be carried away from me by a natural progression of life from which I am excluded.”
“And now?” Tony asks.
“I imagine you will require time to adjust—”
Stephen is cut off by the heat of Tony’s mouth on his and a firm hand on his jaw, tilting his head to just the right angle. A shudder wracks him and he kisses back helplessly, one hand coming down onto Tony’s knee to steady himself as he leans into the caress. The pounding of his heart is almost alarming, it’s been so long. The touch of Tony’s hand is firm, his mouth hot and slick. Heat blooms through Stephen at every point of contact. A soft, desperate noise escapes into Tony’s mouth, but instead of breaking away, Tony deepens the kiss.
When it finally breaks, Stephen rests his forehead against Tony’s, breathing harder than he really should be. Tony brushes his thumb over Stephen’s cheek. “Hey. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Stephen says, with a short, breathless laugh. “Nothing. But— I may need some time to adjust. I believed— I’d accepted… Solitude.”
Tony pulls back, but not far. Just enough to meet Stephen’s gaze. “You don’t have to be alone.” He grins. “I got way too used to sharing space with you.”
“Asking me to move in already? Forward of you,” Stephen says. It’s not quite as arch as he’d like, but it doesn’t matter. Not with Tony.
Tony’s eyes twinkle. “Forward is me all over.”
“For which I find myself grateful,” Stephen admits.
“I’m going to remember you said that.”
Stephen arches an eyebrow. “For how long?”
“Forever,” Tony insists.
Stephen can’t find it in himself to mind.
Not when it’s their forever.