#toneestarkwrites

I got a prompt about 1-2 weeks ago for a prompt where Infinity War Bucky travels back in time to see Iron Man 2 Tony Stark. I posted it on Ao3, but will also post here.

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14630586

The Future is Ashes

In contrast to his brain, the park was silent. This scene was slightly shocking to Tony considering this particular park was in the middle of Malibu, overlooking the beach and ocean. The sun was going down, casting oranges, pinks, and purples across the mirrored water; it was beautiful, and Tony was the only one here to witness it. He was alone except for the Iron Man suit standing to the left of his park bench. Alone just like he wanted to be now and just like he wanted to die: with no one to witness it when he either died from palladium poisoning or when the shrapnel finally made it through the maze of veins pumping to his heart.

My heart.

Tony didn’t think he really had one. Sure, he cared… too much most of the time… and he loved, and he felt emotions… but that was all just chemicals in his brain, right? He didn’t have the true combination of what gave a person a “heart”: bravery, honesty, morals. Yeah, after his drinking, fucking, and just general shittiness of his personality, he really didn’t think he had a heart.

Pepper had given Tony that gift a while back, the first arc reactor that he has designed and built in the caves with Yinsen. It had saved Tony’s life when Obi had taken his inlaid reactor to power the Iron Monger suit. Pepper thought he had a heart, but with all he had done to her, he thought that maybe it was due to something like Stockholm Syndrome. She was waiting on him hand and foot all the time, cleaning up his messes and tolerating his smartass attitude. Or maybe she was just insane to think that he, Anthony Edward Stark, had any fiber in his body that resembled ‘heart’.

He let out a deep breath, rolled forward, and put his head into his hands, settling his orbits into the fatty part of his palms. He felt tears building and squeezed his eyes shut tighter, trying to force back the lump that was in his throat and the salty water threatening to spill between his eyelids.

What am I going to do…?

There was no cure that he could find for his palladium poisoning. There was no one to run the Iron Man when he died. Maybe Rhodey, but did he really want to put his best friend in that sort of danger? No, he was the only person. Not that it was a trust issue, more that it was an issue of him not thinking that he could take the guilt for being responsible for the deaths of anyone else, especially the only man who had supported him and tolerated him for most of his life.

Tony turned his head and rested his cheek on his fist, tears finally spilling over and dappling the concrete below his feet. Blurred in his vision, he sees the shape of a figure in all black walking slowly towards him. He blinks a few times and smears the wetness from his cheek, turning his head away as if his current emotional state was null.

He glanced again out of the corner of his eye, suddenly starting to feel uncomfortable. The dark figure was moving towards him now, face shrouded in a black hoodie and hands hidden in pants pockets. Tony’s hand went to his side, gripping the bench as he prepared to stand and side roll into the suit. The figure came up to him and sat down gingerly, grunting a little as he settled into the hard metal of the bench.

“No need for that, Iron Man.”

Tony swallowed and realized it was so loud the other person could definitely have heard it.

“I am not here to fight you… or kill you… or anything like that. I just want to talk, s’all.” The man pulled back his hood to reveal long, dark, disheveled hair, stubble along his jawline and upper lip, and unnaturally icy blue eyes.  

Tony’s brow was furrowed, clearly confused by this interaction, and he coughed before speaking, “What is it that you want to talk about? I am actually on my way out of here.” He wanted to make a snarky quip but found his emotions too raw and his eyes too sore to do so. He felt exposed and vulnerable, but there was something calming about this guy. His demeanor? The fact that he appeared familiar, but Tony couldn’t quite place where? Maybe the idea that someone wasn’t out to get him, take his money, or kill him?

The man had clearly practiced what he was about to speak, but there were pauses as he apparently tried to remember his speech, “You are important,” Tony raised an eyebrow at this.

“Ahem-you are important. For everything. You are ‘The Futurist’ and the only person who will know the terrors to face humankind…specieskind really. The galaxy. You with the help of others, but mostly it’s your ingenuity, dedication, and -well- stubbornness, that save the world.” The man smiled fondly, crinkles forming around his eyes in endearment.

“You have to survive Tony. I know that it seems hopeless and like whatever is happening with your chest is the endgame. It’s not. You- you are going to figure this out. You must. Or…” The man paused, and Tony could swear his crystalline eyes were threatening to spill tears. “Or we will never meet… and I will never love you and you will never love me… we will never get the opportunity to tell one another…and finally Tony….” Another pause and this time the man’s tears visibly dotted the concrete beside Tony’s drying stains.

The speech was gone. This man was speaking from his heart and Tony was gaping, three-quarters listening and one-quarter admiring the man’s stubbled jawline and beautiful chocolate tendrils of hair framing his round face. Tony started to speak, and the man raised his hand to place two fingers gently on Tony’s dry lips to silence him. “And finally… I will turn to dust. I will turn to dust with no hope of resurrection. You are the hope. The hope to save us all. My hope. My love. My sugar-peach.” The fingers moved from Tony’s lips and trailed down to his goateed chin. The pet name echoed in the mechanic’s head as the other man’s thumb raised up to the bottom of his chin and rubbed softly, comfortingly.

Tony was confused as fuck. But he was mesmerized. He knew this man. Maybe from the past, or maybe from the future, but he knew him and the emotions he was feeling drew his cheek to press into the man’s warm, calloused hand. “Who are you…?” Tony reached down to grasp the man’s left hand but met cold metal junctions that formed movable fingers. On instinct, Tony withdrew his attempt but settled his palm back down to wrap over the cold fingers.

“Go get Howard’s panels for the expo that was in that video, Tony. I have to go now, I don’t have time to explain, I don’t have long before…” The man stopped and moved forward, settling his lips on Tony’s, an immediate electricity pulsing through the genius’ veins. This was pure, unadulterated love flowing between their mouths and through their souls.

The man teased Tony’s bottom lip with his tongue and upon Tony’s admission, thrust it into the cavity. The metal fingers slipped from Tony’s grip and wrapped gingerly around the back of Tony’s neck, pulling him closer, as if to absorb Tony’s spirit through the kiss. The mechanic met the passion of the metal-armed man equally, still confused, but wanting more of whatever was occurring. Needing more.

As if on cue, Tony felt nothing. There was nothing on his lips, no hand behind his head or fingers guiding his chin. Slowly, he opened his eyes and witnessed something peculiar to him and terrifying at the same time.

Above the park bench, where the man had sat seconds before, there was a cloud of ash blowing about casually in the wind. Tony felt soft touches on the back of his neck as the dust blew off his skin. He raised his pointer finger to press on his moist and swollen lips, pulling the touch back to reveal a dark smudge across his digit.