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It wasn’t supposed to end like this. The plan had been simple, and it was supposed to have been an easy mission. Get in, get out, meet back at headquarters and congratulate each other on a job well done. Steve had even accounted for wiggle room when it came to Clint and Tony, who had all but mucked up some of their missions in the past with horseplay and other nonsense. He’d been careful to incorporate every scenario he could so that they could all return safely nx with minimal damage and lectures. What Steve had not accounted for had been his own stubbornness, in the face of a mission failure but especially in the face of death. It had been all too easy to push himself just a little more, wait just a little longer.
Steve would most certainly be dead had Tony not come streaming through the warehouse doors in the last second. Iron Man had used the last of his reserves to blast them into a safe place and had maintained that perimeter around them throughout the collapse of the building. Now he was writhing on the floor, going through what Steve recognized to be the signs of before cardiac arrest. It was there on the floor, in the threshold of mission completed and safe, that Steve knew he was watching his lover in his final moments.
“Tony,” the blond whispered desperately, taking hold of Tony gently by the shoulder and easing his body into a prone position against his legs, “Tony, you’ve got to hang on.”
Tony barely moved, allowing himself to be placed into a more comfortable position and letting his eyes fall closed. “Sorry Cap,” he wheezed out in between spells of breath, “Don’t think there’s much hanging left.” He didn’t open his eyes again, just relaxed most of his weight into Steve’s hold and let the larger man cradle him.
Steve let out a disbelieving huff, something between a laugh and a sob. “Don’t apologize, dummy,” he insisted through heaving breaths, “Just hang on until they can get your extra reactor here.”
“Definitely not that much time,” Tony argued, though it had become hardly understandable through his gritted teeth only slightly eased writhing. Another gasp of breath covered the sob from his partner hovering over him, and he let himself be moved again.
“Don’t - Don’t say that, Iron Man,” Steve forced out, trying his best to make it sound like a command even through the tears that were now falling freely down his face. He held Tony down just slightly as the man shook as his body was racked with pain. Yet He didn’t hold very strongly, just enough to ease Tony’s shaking and to feel the slowly dying heartbeat in the chest beneath his fingers.
“Aye aye, Captain,” Tony snarked back, and even through terrible pain he managed to offer Steve his trademark smirk before losing it to another wince. It had become one of Steve’s favorite things about Tony, had become such an integral part of his life that he found himself grinning wetly back. “Wish - ah - wish I could pull this off better,” Tony admitted and tried to readjust himself in Steve’s grasp. It was an awkward struggle, with Steve doing little but shifting weight around as Tony searched and searched for a position that didn’t stress his heart and didn’t stress his overtired muscles. He finally gave up, falling back against Steve gracelessly and letting out another grunt of pain.
“It still works for you,” Steve whispered back, “You’ll have to teach it to me sometime.”
“ETA two minutes,” rang in his ear suddenly, and Steve winced in turn. Two minutes felt like an eternity, and the rapid decrease of Tony’s heart definitely wasn’t going to last that long. Why was it taking their teammates so long to arrive, why had Tony made this decision anyway?
That, at least, was a question Steve could answer, because he would have done the same thing in Tony’s place. They had only been seeing each other for half a year and most of their feelings were unspoken, but both men had felt the consummate connection form and grow between them. What Steve couldn’t or wouldn’t, Tony could and would, and the other way around, bonding them in such a way that Steve felt he had known and loved the man behind suit and mask a lifetime and more.
“Maybe an extra reactor in one of your pockets next time,” Tony joked, although not even he was laughing. Steve knew he had also done the math and had come up short on time. They exchanged a grim look but Steve refused to hear another word on the subject.
It was only moments and Tony finally eased, the man falling further into Steve’s arms, burying his face as best he could against the forearm that held him. “Steve,” he managed one last time before falling still, face easing away from the blond’s as it fell limp.
“No.” Steve let out a cry instinctually pulling Tony’s face back towards him but letting it go ahead as he realized there was no longer a pulse under his fingers or a breath against his wrist. There was a moment when Steve suddenly felt very small again, holding the deathly pale body of his lover and waiting for the breath he wasn’t going to take.
“I can’t lose you,” Steve whispered through a foggy, panicked haze before remembering that there were actions he could be taking, and he prepared himself for CPR.
It was as Steve was forcing himself to stop looking at the dimmed arc reactor and figure out where he might place his hands that part of their structure was forced to the side and his team suddenly rushed through. Natasha was at Steve’s side in what should have been heartbeat (but there was none, not under Steve’s desperate fingers), gently moving Steve to the side. Clint helped her, grasping the larger man by the shoulders and helping Natasha to extract Tony’s body - no, just Tony - from his grasp. Eventually it became Thor’s task to remove Steve, and the two men stood a far back as Thor could remove him without protest from the Commander. Natasha, having learned the necessary procedure from Pepper, was already in the process of removing the dead reactor before Tony was even fully lowered to the ground. She had the spare reactor in her hand, and its glowing belied her shaking, uneasy grip. But she was able to successfully install it into Tony’s chest, and she and Clint eased the man upright as she finished.
Tony did not respond to the replacement, which was unsettling as the man slumped forward into Clint as they got him up. Both spies tried their best to elicit a response from the man, but neither were successful. They were beginning to administer their own rounds of CPR when there was a wailing outside signalling the arrival of outside help.
Everything was a blur of lights and sounds after that. Steve could hear nothing but the faint buzz of people trying to work around him, of words that long ago wouldn’t have made any sense to him but he heard much too often now, words like EKG and defibrillator and DOA.
Oh, God.
He joined Tony and the EMTs in the ambulance, he thought, but the trip to the stark whiteness of the hospital was little more than bright flashing lights and blaring sirens. The warmth he had sought in the grip of Tony’s hand had long since faded, though Steve could not bring himself to let go just yet. He noted dimly that the dull arc reactor was still in his other hand, but he only gave it a cursory glance as his world phased back into blurriness.
Steve was the first word Steve processed following the ordeal, and he looked up from the hard plastic hospital seat to find Pepper standing over him, face red and puffy. They made eye contact but little else, and Pepper joined him against the chairs with little ceremony.
“No word yet,” Steve whispered to her, even though she already knew because she always knew how Tony was doing, almost instinctually.
“He’ll pull through,” she said, but it sounded automatic, practiced, and it was clear she didn’t believe it herself. Snippets of the EMTs’ conversations were trickling back into his mind as he had waited in the hospital’s main space, and none of the pieces were positive. But he didn’t dare tell Pepper, he didn’t dare even repeat them out loud for fear of everything becoming true. Instead he clutched and fiddled with the reactor in his hands, toying with the quickly fraying edges like they were his own lifeline.
Gentle hands were placed on top of his and Steve startled, looking back up to meet Pepper’s unwavering but sympathetic gaze. He’ll pull through it insisted, and Steve crumbled under its weight. He collapsed into Pepper, accepting the pull of her tiny arms and the warmth of her embrace even despite her own shaking, and the two sat clutching each other for a time that Steve could not even have guessed. He eventually wrapped her in his own embrace, engulfing the woman but caring little except to avoid hurting her. Pepper’s nails stroked through his hair and she gently pulled away, reaching for the reactor that he was nearly crushing in his grip.
“We can get this cared for,” she noted carefully and calmly, cradling the device against her palm but never forcing it from Steve’s grasp. He was thankful, because he wasn’t sure he would be able to part with it, but he also knew that it was best to get it preserved just in case.
Just in case, Steve repeated in his own mind but firmly shut it down, staring hard at the arc reactor in his hands.
A small flaw caught his eye and he turned the device suddenly, looking to a worn spot that he knew he couldn’t have created in such a short amount of time.
“Oh,” Pepper whispered, as she too noticed the spot Steve was examining. Steve moved it higher so that they could both look at eye level, though it didn’t change what he had seen. On the inside of the reactor, etched cleanly into the metal, was his own name. It was neat but hasty, clearly a job that had been done by an experienced hand but in a hurry, and Steve felt all the breath leave him.
“We always joked that the reactor was Tony’s heart,” Pepper whispered next to him, her tear-filled eyes wide and red as they stared at the name, “I guess he just wanted to keep you close to it.”
All the breath left Steve at this implication, and he nearly dropped the reactor at its twisting pain. Never had he imagined Tony to feel that deeply about him, that he might etch his name permanently onto the device keeping him alive. But the evidence was there, carved into the little piece of technology dangling listlessly from Steve’s fingers as he processed this new information. He hadn’t known, hadn’t suspected that Tony might feel this way, that Tony felt the exact same way but was guarding the secret as closely as he had his best blueprints. More closely, even, and now in a way that Steve felt, deep in his gut, he would never be able to express in return.
Steve allowed himself to look one last time.
In his hands was the one thing he had come to love in this new era, in his new life.
Tony’s heart, and it had belonged to him.