#tony-centric

WinterStrange

4. List of Questions (Civil War Team Iron Man) series by izumi2 | this series is so fucking good - there are so many things that did not make sense in any universe that this fic fixes - listen, I wouldn't trust Team Captain America with anything - 28+ parts

Unrelated (or not) one shots. You can read separetely or as part of the same 'universe'.

'What if' situations where questions are raised and answered in an AU.

5. Another Way by @respect-tony-stark | this is literally such a slow burn and it's fucking great - this fic is a balm to my soul that never stops giving - Tony has mental illnesses that needs to be treated!! - #teamironman - 85k+

Everyone assumed things started to fall apart during their Civil War, but Tony could tell dynamics were off way before then. It started after Ultron. Tony was trying to hold onto the pieces just as much as everyone else, but maybe the team didn't want to as much as they thought they did. Tony just hoped that Steve and everyone else would get over Ultron.

Then Tony found out about a certain Winter Soldier and December of 1991. Tony wasn't irrational. He'd give Steve a chance to confess, but there were a lot more things wrong with their team than secrets. It was time for Tony to realize that.

6. A Second Chance (To Get It Right) by DobbyRocksSocks | this is what I wish Endgame had been - hindsight is 20/20 and it's delicious - the Steve & Tony interactions hurt - just crying about Aunt Peggy - 22k

Stephen knows there's only one way to win the war against Thanos. Tony wishes he knew what the hell was happening, and just how he's waking up in 2010 with JARVIS telling him the time and date.

7. Poison in My Veins by ArcticVulpix | listen, watching the What If...? episode right after this made me feel justified - JARVIS loves Sir so much - not SHIELD friendly because fuck them - also the reason why I went on a tangent while showing my partner Iron Man 2 - 2k

What if injecting Tony with an unknown chemical during the Palladium poisoning incident had more realistic consequences? After all, they couldn't know what medication Tony was on. And how it would react to their 'cure'.

JARVIS is not happy.

8. ironstrange vs. the rogues series by imposterhuman | feat. some juicy past-Stony - it's just great to see peeps take Tony's side - Rogues didn't realize how much shit Tony put up with to help them not fail as a team - #teamironman - 13+ parts

the rogue avengers return, only, tony isnt alone this time

9. Tony and the Neurosurgeon by ArcticVulpix | part of a great series [Anyone But Steve Rogers] - cw: mind control and sexual harassment - Clint is a bro - protective JARVIS - 10k

JARVIS would only accept the best for sir. So a doctor who can keep up with Tony's banter and with a high enough intelligence to understand him was pretty high up on the list.

FrostIron

10. Tears by Arabesqueangel | dying after getting rejected from soulmate AU - enemies to lovers - Thor: Ragnarok canon-divergent - Jotunn Loki is best Loki - 11k

Thor says they are headed to Earth. Loki is understandably dreading their arrival. It's not just his own actions on Earth the last time that are causing him pause. It's the knowledge that Tony Stark is his soulmate and he can never know... no matter how much it hurts.

11. Things That Are Never Meant by katling | Civil War canon-divergent - Pepper is a BAMF - Wanda is straight-up evil in this one - some people are OOC - 28k

When Tony Stark disappears from Siberia, the aftershocks shatter some people and rebuild others. And when Tony returns, nothing will ever be the same again.

12. Tony and the Trickster by ArcitcVulpix | bless this author for their fics - I just love the way Loki *clenches fist* tricks people - one-sided Stony - people stand up for Tony! - 6k

As usual, it started because Loki was bored.

Is there really any more else to say?

13. The Power of Faith series by Draysmeria | this series! is an epic amazing story - AU from Avengers to Endgame - FrostIron vs. the world - I love the pagan representation - 5 parts

Loki has been Tony's God for a long time and there was nothing Loki could do that would turn Tony away from him, even if he attempted to invade earth. Stronger together than apart they embark on a journey to rid the universe once and for all of their ultimate enemy Thanos. It is not always easy navigating heroes, villains and interpersonal relationships, but with the power of their faith in each other, everything is possible.

14. Proof That DUM-E Knows Exactly What He's Doing (And Why JARVIS Should Stop Bossing Him Around) by NamelesslyNightlock | this is mostly told from the POV of DUM-E - the bots care and love for Tony so much - enemies to strangers to lovers - idiots in love - 14k

When DUM-E touches something he shouldn’t and it makes someone new appear in the workshop, DUM-E doesn’t know why JARVIS gets so worried. Clearly, he and Loki are going to be the best of friends.

Misc.

15. you want a war? (you don't know what you're asking for) by graveltotempo | Pepper and Rhodey are salty - Tony isn't in this story - I love a #teamironman story about consequences - Aunt Peggy - 12k

“And now? Now you’ve all betrayed,”  Steve flinched at the choice of words, “Stark, and Potts and Rhodes are not going to sit and take it.”

Natasha frowned at the phone. “What does this mean for us?”

Fury laughed - an ugly laugh with no myrth in it. “It means that Potts or Rhodes are the ones who sent me this phone because they wanted me to contact you. They wanted me - and you - to know that they are with Stark, that they are the line of defence between him and us.”

16. Tony Stark Defense Squad series by ArcticVulpix - Pepper/Tony - I love seeing the Defenders and Fantastic Four interact with the Avengers! - Carol and Jessica Jones putting Steve back in his place - Aunt Peggy - 20+ parts

Tony has recovered in the year following the Civil War, with his friends' and new team's help. With the Rogues coming back though, those friends aren't going to let them hurt Tony again.

17. From Little Things Big Things Grow by katling | Iron Husbands - this story is super amazing and makes me angry at Steve - Defenders and Fantastic Four are in this too! - hey, Team Cap are assholes - non-canon character death - 32k

That resolve was quickly tested when he heard the footsteps stop abruptly before he was suddenly hauled into the air and thrown against the wall next to him, an iron grip around his neck.

His eyes wide and heart about to leap out of his throat, it took him a minute to recognize who had him captured. Peter.

His muscles relaxed as much as was possible with adrenaline overflowing his system while still being pinned down by a superhuman.

If he was expecting the same reaction from Peter, he was gravely mistaken.

“Who the fuck are you?” Peter snarled, eyes flinty and mouth a tight line.

Tony’s hands were coming up, open-palmed in the universal sign of ‘I’m not a threat’ but they were webbed in place before they moved more than a couple inches.

“Well this brings back fond memories,” Tony joked weakly. Fight or flight brought out either life-saving genius or the stupid and snarky in him. Obviously this was a case of the latter.

Peter’s face twisted, grasp tightening around Tony’s neck. “What do you mean?”

Tony wheezed, wishing he could tap on Peter’s arm, something like real fear creeping through his veins. He’d always known Peter was among the most powerful of all of them, but his sweet temperament, even in the worst situations, made that easy to forget. There was nothing sweet about this hard creature in front of him, all rough edges, bared teeth, and corded muscle.

When it was obvious that Peter expected an answer, Tony let out a few pointed coughs, eyes darting down to the hand nearly cutting off his air supply.

When it loosened, infinitesimally but enough that he could speak, he answered, “When we met the first time, you webbed my hand to the door when I tried to leave,” he croaked.

Peter pulled him away from the wall just to slam him against it again. “How do you know that?” He growled, eyes wild.

“What do you mean how do I know? I was there, you idiot! I had that stupid webbing stuck on my hand for two hours!” Tony babbled, hysteria building.

Peter’s grip slackened but didn’t completely release. Tony could feel the fine tremors traveling from Peter’s hands into the thin skin behind his jaw.

“Something else. Tell me something else only you would know,” Peter commanded.

“What? There’s a lot that I know that no one else does. One particular item apparently seems to be how to get my AI integrated into this building.”

Peter wasn’t amused. “I’m not playing around, asshole. You have thirty seconds to tell me something to prove your identity or I’m gonna snap your neck.”

Okay. There was some motivation. Tony’s mind was racing, but mostly in useless circles, everything still cloudy and sluggish. He continued to latch on to their early interactions. “After we got back from Berlin, I did a video to show to your aunt and in one of the outtakes I made a comment about her wearing something skimpy. You didn’t think it was near as funny as I did,” Tony said quickly.

“That was on video. Easily hacked and found by someone else,” Peter dismissed immediately.

“I-I don’t,” Tony stuttered, panic setting in.

“I’m losing patience,” Peter warned, eyes narrowed.

“Just wait! I-I’m trying to-“ Peter’s finger brushed against Tony’s carotid. “Titan!” he shouted.

Peter’s whole body froze. “We were on Titan and you were the last one to disappear. You begged me not to let you go, to make it stop, but I couldn’t, I failed, and you-you died in my arms and I was left there alone and I never got to tell you how fucking sorry I am for dragging you into all this bullshit, for not protecting you and-“ Tony hoped that was enough because he physically couldn’t push any more words past the familiar mass of guilt that took the place of Peter’s suddenly absent hand in stealing his ability to breathe.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter breathed. Tony looked up to see Peter staring at him cautiously. Seeing him with eyes wide and hair rumpled, looking so suddenly, vulnerably young was jarring after the cold-blooded killer act.

“Hey, kid,” Tony responded hoarsely, knees buckling as he crashed to the floor, hands still stuck to the wall.

__________________________________________

Bruh. This was again supposed to be a start of a prompt that I wanted to just fill in a quick one shot, but this initial intro part keeps coming out much more involved than the single paragraph I plan for. 🤷🏻‍♀️ At least this version is much less intense/angsty than what I came up with a few days ago.

Hoping to continue this though and finally get into my original idea

Tony could see, logically, how a person could be forgiven for suspecting he was part of Hydra– he’d been the first person recruited by SHIELD for the Avengers, he knew Pierce and several Hydra senators on a first name basis, and he’d even been one of the consultants on Project Insight. If it had been anyone else, he would have been the first to say that a bit of caution was warranted. But it wasn’t anyone else, it wasn’t a stranger, it was him. He would have hoped that anyone who knew him would know better. He would have thought Steve, despite their quarrels and differences, would have known better, but apparently not.

So instead of picking up a phone and asking for help, or even giving him a warning of what was coming, Steve let Tony hear about the political and military cataclysm in DC on the news, same as everyone else. And then on top of that had been the Ultron mess –

The drafting pencil in Tony’s hand snapped as he remembered the look on Steve’s face when they’d been talking about arms dealer, the accusation and contempt he’d seen there for a flash of a second. It had been painful enough to the first time around, but when he’d realized that Steve had lost trust in him years before then, the moment had taken on a new significance.

Tossing the broken pencil to the side, Tony sighed with frustration and scrubbed his face with his hands before running them through his hair. “JARVIS, turn the music up,” he said, tired of listening to his own thoughts running in circles. Before Steve and Bucky had shown back up at the tower, looking for help, Tony had more or less managed to set aside the ball of resentment that had taken up residence under his breastbone. But now it was like Steve’s presence in the tower was like the pea under his mattress, bringing up all the old pain and making it fresh again. He knew that people probably thought he’d moved past it because he and Bucky had become…well, he wasn’t sure what they were, exactly, but in any event the truth was that Steve’s presence was rubbing salt in the wound.

Stretching his neck and shoulders, he bent back over the drafting table, trying to focus on the latest redesign for the quinjet. It worked for a while; he managed to lose himself in equations for lift and drag and thrust and torque, occasionally tapping his foot to the music, until out of the corner of his eye he saw the lab door open.

JARVIS automatically lowered the volume as Bucky walked in, but not before Tony saw him wince at the wall of noise. “JARVIS, turn the music off,” Tony said, offering Bucky a sympathetic smile. “Headache?”

“Kind of,” Bucky said, smiling back wanly. “Just a little anxiety, I guess.”

“Ah.” Tony knew how that felt. He tapped his pencil thoughtfully on his drafting table and said, “Would you like me to tell you what I’m working on?”

With a grateful nod, Bucky sat, propping his chin on his metal hand, and listened while Tony’s voice ran over him; he could tell that Tony was pitching his voice low and making an extra effort to modulate his tone so it was a rhythmic patter, and the end result was Tony’s explanation was as soothing as listening to the rain. Bucky could feel his muscles unknotting and the fizzy, aching tension in his head subside as he relaxed under the weight of Tony’s words.

“You should do one of those ASMR recordings,” Bucky said, so drowsy he was barely able to hold his head up. “I could listen to you read a phone book.”

Tony snorted. “Usually people can’t wait for me to shut up,” he said dryly. He reached into his mini-fridge under his desk and pulled out two bottles of water, offering Bucky one as he opened one for himself. “Natasha called me hyperverbal.”

“Really? Not that I’ve noticed,” Bucky said. “You strike me as more quiet and thoughtful than hyperverbal.”

“Yeah,” Tony said, toying with his drafting pencil, “I guess I’ve changed a little, since then.”

                                                  ***

One night, the time of night that could be called either late night or early morning, Bucky shuffled into the shared living room and found Tony curled up on the couch, watching TV. Bucky came around the couch and saw that he was watching Mythbusters. “Mind if I join you?”

“Sure,” Tony said, sitting up a little to make room on the couch. As he sat, neither one of them said the things that had already been said enough: couldn’t sleep? No, me either. Bad dreams? Yeah. Instead they skipped straight to the companionable silence. After a few minutes, Tony handed a half-empty bowl of slightly stale cheesy popcorn over, and Bucky polished off the bowl while Jamie and Adam tested whether or not someone would be thrown backwards when shot by a bullet or if a car would explode if you shot the gas tank. Bucky took issue with the episode that tested whether a car would flip over if hit with an RPG, which led to Tony telling him about the time he took down a helicopter with a piano, and then suddenly the sun was coming up, rosy fingers of light drawing lines on the ceiling. Tony and Bucky were sharing a blanket, their feet tangled together in the middle of the couch, when Steve came through on his way to the kitchen.

“Morning, Buck. Morning, Tony,” he said cheerfully, barely slowing as he walked by, but it was enough. Tony sat up, and even though he piled the extra blanket on Bucky as he stood, Bucky felt the chill of his withdrawal.

“I didn’t realize how late it was,” he said lightly. “I’ve got to get to work.”

Bucky tilted his head thoughtfully as he watched Tony leave, staring at the doorway with a frown even after Tony was gone.

After that, it took a few days to get Tony alone, but eventually Bucky tracked him to the kitchen, finding him making coffee and slicing oranges for breakfast. “Good morning,” Tony greeted cheerfully, and used his knife to push a few orange slices towards Bucky as he grabbed another from the basket on the counter. “How are you doing?”

“Pretty well,” Bucky said, eating one mostly so he would have something to do with his hands. “You?"

"Can't complain," Tony said cheerfully as he sliced. "Slept well and there aren't any fires to put out, so I can actually take my time with breakfast." He gestured with the knife at where Bucky was fiddling with the orange peels. "You seem like you have something on your mind though."

"I just had a question for you.”

"Go for it."

“Is…um, is everything okay, between you and Steve?” It had taken Bucky a while to realize that Tony was systematically avoiding Steve. After all, they are all busy people, and Tony’s schedule was probably the craziest out of everybody’s. So it wasn’t until Bucky started making an effort to spend more time with Tony that he realized that the only thing that was consistent about Tony’s schedule was that he wasn’t anywhere that Steve was. Steve liked to work out early in the morning, but Tony hit the gym in early evening. Tony would eat in the common area, but never when Steve was there. If they were ever in the room at the same time, Tony would leave, sometimes so quietly that Bucky would look over in the middle of a conversation and find that Tony was gone.

Tony’s movements slowed. “Sure,” Tony said neutrally. He rinsed off the knife and set it next to the sink then poured himself some coffee. “He’s here, isn’t he?”

Bucky squinted at him, wondering if he meant here as in the Tower or here as in alive, and decided it was probably the former. “So you accepted his apology? For, you know…” He gestured vaguely.

Tony barked out a laugh at that, sharp and bitter. “What apology? His bullshit letter, or the hangdog one he gave me when he was forced to come back and ask for help?”

Bucky blinked, startled by sudden vitriol. “I don’t know,” he said, shrugging helplessly. “I just noticed that you don’t really ever seem to be around Steve, and I was wondering if it was on purpose.”

“Yeah, it’s on purpose.”

Bucky hadn’t really thought through this conversation; he especially hadn’t anticipated that Tony would just come right out and say it, so he was caught a little flat-footed. “Why?”

Tony’s mouth twisted. “Do you really need to ask?”

“Well, I mean I know…” Bucky exhaled. He looked down at his hands, flattened them out on the granite countertop next to the orange slices and cutting board. “Do you think you’ll ever forgive him?”

“I don’t know.”

“You forgave me.”

“You’re different.”

“Yeah.” Bucky swallowed thickly. “I’m worse.”

“No,” Tony said immediately. He put one hand over Bucky’s and squeezed it, meeting his eyes so Bucky could see that he meant it. “The difference is you didn’t decide to hurt me. Steve did.”

“But he said he was sorry, and he’s trying-“

“Did he say he was sorry? And even if he did, what good, exactly, is an apology?” Tony stared Bucky in the eyes and dropped the coffee mug on the floor, not even flinching when it shattered and coffee went everywhere. “Is an apology going to clean up this mess?”

The look in Tony’s eyes made Bucky’s stomach turn. “No.”

“Will it fix the mug?”

“No.”

“So what do you think Steve can do with his apologies?”

Bucky stared at the shattered mug. “Is there anything that…I don’t know, could help? Could fix it?”

Tony exhaled. “I don’t know, Bucky. Some things just can be fixed.” He waited for a long moment but Bucky didn’t know what to say, so eventually he turned away to get a broom.

                                              ***

“Did you know?”

Steve sighed, resting his head in his hands. “I suspected. So I made sure to give him his space. I figured that’s what he needed.”

“Well, what are we going to do?”

“We?” Steve lifted his head and sat back against the couch. “It’s not your problem, Bucky. I’m glad that you two have grown close, but I don’t think Tony and I will ever get there. Too much bad blood.”

“But it’s bothering you,” Bucky said. “And it obviously bothers him. Nothing’s going to get better unless you try.”

“What can I do? Apologize again? You told me what Tony thinks of my apologies.”

“Just try talking to him. At the very least you need to clear the air.”

“I don’t know, Buck.” Steve looked down at his hands. “I don’t know that I really have the right to Tony’s forgiveness, after everything.”

“Do you forgive him? For everything in the bunker?”

“Well, yeah,” Steve said, sounding like it was something so obvious he hadn’t really thought it needed saying. “Baron Zemo went through a lot of effort to find a wedge to drive us apart, and Secretary Ross and the Accords was the hammer to the wedge. If I hadn’t kept that secret about his parents, Zemo wouldn’t have had that wedge in the first place. How do I begin to make up for something like that?”

Bucky rubbed his eyes, hearing Tony’s ragged Do you even remember them? echo in his thoughts. “Just try? Please? For me?”

“Why is this important to you?”

“Because…” Bucky took a deep breath. “You and Tony are the most important people in my life and I think that Tony…that Tony could be more. Maybe. But with all of this…”

Steve’s eyes softened. “Oh, Buck. Really? With Tony? That’s great, I’m happy for you.”

“Yeah.” Bucky smiled shyly. “I don’t know if he…you know, because of everything, but we’ll see.” It almost seemed like too much to hope for, that Tony could put their ugly past behind them to make a future. But he didn’t think anything good could happen when there was so much pain and anger festering in Tony’s heart.

“Ok, I’ll do my best,” Steve said. “Hopefully I won’t make it worse.”

 He was an empty shell. It was as if he’d developed an AI that was meant to mimic his actions and uploaded it into his brain. He said the same things. He smiled the same way. He even joked around every once in a while. But his eyes were empty, his tone flat, and his laughter was short and clipped and always bitter.

The only thing that made Nat doubt the fact that he was a robot were those moments of raw, unbridled emotion that he’d have. The emotions would flash across his face and leave just as fast, but they were there.

They were there when Steve mentioned the strange names of his shield upgrades. They were there when Bruce reminisced about working in the lab. They were there when Clint mentioned his now-dusted family. They were there when Rocket talked about Groot. They were there when Shuri called, giving them short updates. They were there whenever he absentmindedly checked his phone for something that was obviously not there. They were there when he left every Saturday and when he returned from who-knows-where exactly an hour later.

The emotions left Nat confused because they showed up at random, disconnected times that had nothing to do with each other. Who did he lose? Who did he lose? Who did he lose?

Pepper was no help. She refused to tell them anything. Rhodey claimed he knew nothing, but Nat called bull on that. However, his love for Tony outweighed his fear for her. She didn’t blame him.

Something was wrong, and she was determined to figure it out.

And he was showering now, almost three or four times a day. It was always preceded by those random flash of emotions, then he would get up and leave to wash himself as if he wanted to scrub away any feeling.

The only one he seemed okay with being emotional around now was Pepper. They worked in sync; one look from him and she would go make him some coffee and they’d go to their room and hold each other.

The only one he seemed himself with was Rhodey. He was the only one he joked around, but even with his best friend, the jokes usually fell flat.

With everyone else, he was just numb, numb, numb, numb.

Empty, broken, shattered, like his soul had disintegrated along with half of the universe.

She wondered who in the world could ruin Tony Stark like that. Pepper, yes, she would have expected that, but Pepper was fine, and so was Rhodey, and Nat had checked up on Happy the first moment she could, and he was okay. So, who?

Nat huffed in frustration, pulling her hair back into a tight ponytail. Today was not a day for aesthetic. She was sparring Clint, which was always interesting, depending on what mood he was in. If he was in a fighting mood, he sometimes even beat her, and today seemed to be one of those days. He was fighting with all the pent-up rage that he’d built up since the snap. He’d lost every single member of his family, after all.

But she was not without fight either. For she’d learned only five days ago that both Fury and Hill were gone, no longer in existence. It had taken a bit of time to get the information because, officially, Fury had been dead long before that, and when she’d found out, she’d even allowed herself to cry. Fury had been like a father to her for many years, and the fact that he was just gone… well, it fueled her pretty well for a good hour of sparring with her best friend.

By the end of the hour, they were both tired, sweaty, and a little less weighed down. It had been a long time since they’d gotten to train together, and Nat had missed it. And by Clint’s small smile, it seemed he missed it too.

They trudged up to the kitchen, slumping into bar stools and trying to catch their breaths. Thor, Steve, Tony, and Bruce were standing across the counter, Thor and Steve both knocking back shots.

Nat asked Bruce to get out the vodka. Alcohol sounded like a pretty good idea right about then.

Clint was offered some, but he shook his head and then groaned rubbing a knot from the back of his neck. “Damn, that hurt. It felt good, but it hurt.”

Nat smirked a little. “I know the feeling.”

He huffed, shaking his head. “It’s been a while since I’ve done any sparring. I don’t feel so good.”

Tony stiffened from the corner of her eye, whipping his head to Clint. “What did you just say?”

 Steve trudged down the stairs towards the kitchen, unsure where he was going. He just needed to get out of his room, have some human interaction. Buck. Sam. Wanda. Vision. He shook his head. Maybe getting some alcohol in his system would do him some good. Thor had left a stash of his Asgardian mead before he’d left, and that stuff kept forever, so maybe he’d see if he could get tipsy on that.

That sounded terribly inviting. He stepped into the kitchen to find Tony, Bruce, and Thor standing at the bar, the latter two recounting some of their adventures back on Asgard.

Steve walked over to the fridge and pulled out the scotch and Thor’s old mead, putting the first bottle on the table and handing the other to Thor. “You’ll do the honors?”

Thor’s face lit up, and he opened it, taking a sniff. “I didn’t know that I’d left this,” he said, his eyes sad. Then he reached up and grabbed the shot glasses from the cabinet. He nodded at the scotch on the counter. “You want a drink, Stark?”

Tony looked up. “Hmm? Oh, no. I don’t drink.”

The three men turned to stare at him.

He blinked at them. “What?”

“Since when?” Bruce asked.

Tony gave a half-shrug. “Since about a couple years ago. My health’s not what it used to be and alcohol kind of just…” his eyes flashed with something that Steve couldn’t quite put his finger on, “lost its appeal.”

Bruce shrugged, taking the bottle of scotch and pouring himself a glass. “To each his own, I guess. I don’t normally drink, but… this seems like an okay time to do it.”

Steve and Thor downed their shots pretty quickly, and Thor’s stories became livelier after that. Bruce only took the one glass, but once Thor started, he couldn’t stop, and Steve wanted to feel it, so the Asgardian mead went pretty fast. Tony, though, true to his word, drank nothing.

Thor was retelling the story of him and the Hulk sparring, this time with much more detail and pizzazz. Bruce was looking at him skeptically, and Tony would almost smile every once in a while, but throughout most of the stories, his face stayed blank, emotionless. Nat and Clint came back up from sparring just as Steve and Thor were finishing up the mead.

Nat asked Bruce for the bottle of vodka, then took a small sip straight out of it. Steve shook his head at her, not understanding how anyone could like the taste of straight vodka.

Clint was complaining in true Clint fashion, and Steve, in his almost-tipsy state found himself content that he was being a little more Clint again. And then it happened.

“It’s been a while since I’ve done any sparring. I don’t feel so good.”

Tony’s whole body went rigid from beside him and he looked like he almost got whiplash from turning so quickly to stare, wide-eyed, at Clint.

“What did you just say?” Tony’s voice was strained, panicked.

“It’s been a while since I’ve sparred?”

“After that.”

“I don’t feel so good.”

Tony seemed to almost collapse in on himself, like the walls he’d been building just fell apart around him. He gave a little gasp, his eyes flickering around the room as if he were searching for something, but he didn’t seem to find it because his hands were shaking, and he looked like he was going to pass out.

“Tony? You alright?”

Tony didn’t answer, choosing to reach forward and hold out his hand for the vodka. Nat handed it to him warily, and he tilted his head back and just chugged for five seconds straight. And then he was walking away, towards the stairs, bottle still in his hand.

“Tony?!”

“I’ll be in my lab,” he said, his voice shaking as bad as his hands. “Don’t disturb me.”

And then he was gone.

Clint rubbed his face with his hands. “Was it something I said?”

Nat met Steve’s gaze and he saw his own concern and confusion and utter helplessness reflected in them. “I don’t know,” she whispered.

 He was in a haze, sitting against one wall and his face buried in his hands. The bottle was long gone, once he’d emptied what was left of it (don’t worry it was watered down, Tony ain’t dying of alcohol poisoning in this fic), he’d thrown it as far away as possible, and it shattered against a leg of one of his work tables.

But he didn’t care. Or rather, he did, but not about that. For weeks he’d emptied himself of emotions, not letting himself grieve, and it was finally too much. His body literally could not handle the pain any longer, so he finally broke.

He cried and cried and cried because his kid was gone and there was no coming back from that.

He sobbed, everything just falling out of him because he had no more self-control. His kid, his kid was just… gone. Disintegrated. Dead.

He jolted, tilting his head to the side and puking all over the floor. After going a few years without any drinking, his body was not used to his previous habits. His hands were shaking again.

I don’t feel so good.

“Yeah, you and me both, kid,” he managed, rubbing his face with both hands before a strangled sob shook his whole body again. “You… and me… both.”

And then he was a little out of it, pulling himself to his feet and stumbling out of his lab. The alcohol must have finally caught up with him, because his feet didn’t really know where they were going. Or maybe they did because he found himself back in the kitchen, greeted by a very worried Steve, Nat, and Clint.

“Did Thor… go back to Asgard… or something?” he asked, his brain not quite connected to his tongue.

“Oh, he’s very drunk,” Clint muttered, and Nat elbowed him in the side before stalking forward and slinging an arm around him.

“Stark, you can’t do that to us. You need to get some water in your system,” she said, practically dragging him to the nearest barstool.

He plopped down on it, putting his head in his hands as Steve went over to grab him a glass of water. “Sorry, Tony, I… I thought it would be a good idea to get a little tipsy or something. I didn’t think you’d-”

“It was a fantastic idea. I’ve never… felt better,” Tony said, snorting a little, which is never a good thing to do when you’ve just been crying.

“Was that sarcasm? Perhaps there’s hope yet,” said Clint sitting down on the barstool to his right.

Tony turned to him, stone-faced. “There isn’t.”

Clint’s expression seemed to deflate. “I know.”

Tony tittered a bit, swiping the glass of water from Steve’s outstretched hand. “This sucks, doesn’t it.”

Steve sighed. “Yeah. Yeah it does.”

Nat leaned forward, resting her elbows against the counter. “So are you going to tell us what’s going on, or continue leaving us in the dark?”

Tony laughed a little, “You… tryin’ to take… advantage of me drunk?”

“No!” Steve said, just as Clint said, “Yes.”

Nat smirked. “We just want to help you, Tony.”

But Tony was no longer listening. He downed the water, eyes glassy, then reached for his pocket and pulled out his phone, turning it on for a second, then completely deflating when all that peered up at him was the time.

His face crumpled, and he sobbed, burying his face in his elbow and laying his head on the counter. They watched him cry, no one saying anything, everyone too scared to. This was a Tony they’d never seen before. Completely and utterly broken.

Tony sat up and rubbed his tear-filled eyes with both hands. He was a mess, with his tears and his snot and a little bit of puke staining his shirt. “I was… it was one of the best day’s I’d had in a while when it all… when it all went to…”

But then he shook his head. “That’s… that’s a bad language word. We don’t use those in this household.”

No one bothered to correct him.

“I promised myself that I wouldn’t cuss anymore…” he said, his voice slurred. “But then again, I promised myself I wouldn’t drink either, and here we are.”

He sighed, stringing his hands through his hair and just staring blankly at the counter. One minute passed. Two.

“Why did you promise that to yourself?” Clint asked.

“Impressionable minds… you know. Can’t be… spreading my… bad habits.”

“Impressionable minds? Did…” Steve’s eyes widen. “Did you and Pepper have a…?”

Tony snorted, trying to look up at Steve, but his eyes unfocused. “No, no… I wanted to… still do, but… it was… we’re…” he sighed, shaking his head.

Nat sighed, reaching out for Tony. “Come on, let’s get you to bed. You can answer some of our questions when you aren’t drunk or hungover.”

Tony grunted in protest but allowed her to drag him towards the fridge where she pulled out a cold piece of pizza and told him to eat it. Then they were heading upstairs, towards his room where Pepper was waiting. Tony tripped on the top step, but Nat caught him, helping him back up.

“Thanks,” he muttered, his eyes unfocused and his words still slurred.

Nat sighed, “Anytime.”

 Steve paced. It had been exactly twenty-one hours since Tony had unleashed everything, and he was only just now getting over his hangover, and he said he refused to speak to any of them until he was completely better.

Pepper and Rhodey, of course, were exempt from this.

“He’s dragging it out. It doesn’t take this long to-”

“I know,” Nat said, cutting off Clint. “But he can’t wait forever.”

Just as she was saying this, Tony rounded the platform at the top of the stairs and trudged down to them with a sigh.

They waited for him to settle on the couch across from Nat and Clint, Steve choosing to stay standing. “So?”

Tony sighed. “What do you want from me?”

“Why?” Nat asked. “Why are you so…?”

“Jacked up?” Tony asked, then huffed a laugh. “You would be too… Who’d you all lose?”

“Buck. Sam. Wanda. The rest of the team,” Steve answered immediately.

“My family,” Clint supplied.

“Fury. Hill,” said Nat.

Tony nodded. “And you all… hurt. But you’ll be okay because they all knew what you were to them.”

Clint shook his head. “What do you mean?”

Tony waved a hand at him. “Take you for example. You’re a father. And your kids…” Tony’s voice dipped but he pressed on, “they loved you and you loved them and there were no secrets. Same with your wife.

“And then there’s Nat, who everyone knows was basically Fury’s murder-child.”

Nat smiled a little, her eyes glassy.

“And Bucky and Sam and Wanda, well, they all adored you to no end and vice versa, correct?” Tony asked, not quite meeting Steve’s eyes.

The super soldier nodded.

“Well… see that’s not how I…” his voice faltered, and he took a shuddering breath.

Tony looked up at them and his eyes were no longer empty, but full to the brim. Filled with anguish, and sorrow, and terror, and so much regret. But there was love there too. More love than Steve would have thought possible for someone that had gone through what Tony had.

Against all odds, all the impossibilities, Tony Stark opens his eyes.

Not easily, mind you. His eyes open slow, the skin of his lids heavy like lead, often closing several times before fluttering again to open. He blinks a few times, his brilliant mind blank for probably the first time since— well, probably since he first held Morgan in his arms, uncertain and hands trembling, about five years ago— until he realizes that he’s not staring at gold pearly gates, red hot flames threatening unending pain, or worst of all, the terrifying Void where all nothing lies. No, Tony Stark has opened his brown eyes to a ceiling.

And that first realization alone sets his mind afire, like lightning to a kite— Wait, was it a kite…? Know what, doesn’t matter, you understand the metaphor— and Tony lets out a harsh exhale as the sounds of his heart monitor registers, helping him realize he’s actually breathing and feeling and still here, still alive.

“Holy shit,” he whispers through a rough throat, but he only repeats the mantra, starting under his breath and his voice slowly rising, his eyes only getting wider. “Holy shit…!”

“Holy shit.”

Tony nearly starts at the small voice, his heart stopping for a moment before his eyes slide to the side to see hints of someone in a chair and someone else leaning their tiny elbows on his bed—and then he turns his head.

“Hi, Daddy,” says Morgan, her eyes wet, cheeks red, and her nose running as she sniffles, her chin pillowed by her folded arms. Her voice trembles, even as she gives him a wet smile, her expression threatening to crumble. “D-did you have a good nap?”

For a moment, Tony is unsure what to say. His eyes ache heavily, gaze flickering from Morgan to Pepper, who is still sitting in the chair, her head bowed in sleep, and then back again. His chest swells seeing them, his breath short as his senses sharpen with the truth slowly settling in, and Tony feels his mouth quirk at the sides as tears make his gaze gleam. He tries to reach out his arm to Morgan— the very arm, he remembers, that leads to the hand that gave the final snap— but freezes when he realizes that arm is no longer there. Not all of it at least. Tony’s breath goes shallow for a moment before he swallows, makes assessments based on what he feels and what little he sees when he glances at what’s left. From the shoulder to mid-forearm, there is something— wrapped in gauze, hurting more than a little, but he could live through the pain— so there’s still a quarter of an arm, at most. Everything else is gone.

There’s something existential about it, losing the arm and hand that basically saved the universe. Tony is quite emotionally attached to all his limbs and organs, so the loss is felt and will probably always be felt in a deep way. But that was one of the hands he depended on to help build his inventions, to study data and build simulations in the air, to hold Pepper as they’d kiss, to thread his fingers through his daughter’s hair. It’s not a small loss, but— but.

It could have been worse, comes a wise thought, sounding very much like Dr. Strange, oddly enough. It could have been so much worse.

Tony knows this, knows that he is once again lucky. Perhaps too lucky. Like, how many times can one claim that they cheated death two times? Three, really, if you include the time Obadiah removed the Arc Reactor sixteen years ago. Tony snorts, glancing at his stump of an arm one last time before looking back at Morgan, who is now outright frowning with a trembling mouth, her eyes big and shedding tears again. She lets out a whimper and immediately Tony shoves everything else to the side, covers it up with a smile. There will be a moment where he’ll have to confront another thin escape from death— Or is it a pass, at this point? No one is this lucky. Nobody—as well as many other things, but that won’t be today. Not in front of Morgan, at least.

So, Tony Stark, alive and might-be-well (eventually), lifts his other hand— also wrapped in gauze, but not as bad off— and waves his daughter over, giving her silent permission. Morgan whimpers again and then climbs onto the bed to wrap her arms around his neck, letting out a near wail as she rests her cheek on his chest. Tony holds back a cringe (Fucking ow.), but still wraps his good arm around her, his fingers threading through her hair. He closes his eyes briefly and lets her cry in his hold.