Naminé: I want you to eat three meals a day and have a decent sleep schedule.

@misstrafalgar​

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i tweaked this a little bit i hope you don’t mind 

Of fucking course they went too far back in time. “We don’t have time to recheck the calculations Tony! We’re going to die if we get eaten by aliens, Tony! How are we sure they’re going to eat us? They have sharp teeth and drool, Tony!” God, they were annoyingly persistent in not taking time. So now, they were in 2008. Before everything went ass over tea kettle. Well, not quite. 

They’re in Malibu. Tony curses as he recognizes his old home. 

“Think I can get a doggy bag? You have pizza,” Clint says. Tony tenses. Clint tries to grab the pizza, only to have his hand brush right through the table. “Oh god, we’re ghosts.” 

“We can’t afford to fuck up the time continuum,” Bruce mutters. “Figures the universe would make sure we can’t do it.” 

“Where are we?” Steve asks. 

“Malibu,” Natasha answers. “Tony’s home.” 

“What are we doing here?” Thor whispers. “It’s not like we chose this.” 

“We don’t get to choose anymore, the time zone isn’t gonna change to the correct location until about twenty minutes from now,” Bruce says. “Who bumped and changed the time?” No one answers. They watch on. Tony grows paler as he sees Obadiah Stane. 

Stane came over to try and force Tony out of the company. He pats Tony’s shoulder like a proud father would. “Tony, we have too much history to part on bad terms. I’d like your blessing.” 

Past-Him freezes. He’s paralyzed. 

“What the fuck,” Clint says. He’s yelling. No one can hear him. Well, no one in the past can hear him. “Tony, what the fuck?” 

“Everything is fine,” Tony mutters. “It’s fine.” 

They listen to Obadiah Stane wax poetic about how Tony is a Golden Goose, meant to give until he is no longer useful. How the arc reactor is for everyone’s use as he plucks it out of a chest like a damned apple off a tree. 

“It’s fine,” Tony says, a hard edge in his voice. everything is not fine. 

The Avengers know. They can’t do anything about it. Thor looks positively mournful. Natasha looks at her friend with understanding. She is aware of what friends are capable of doing when they know they are not your friend but you do not. 

“Let’s go home,” Bruce says quietly. 

Tony has a hand over his chest. There is nothing there but surgical scars now, not that it matters. It was still taken from him. 

Nothing is said that night. There are quiet clinks of spoons against coffee mugs, soft and barely-there whispers about more blankets. They cross pizza off a list of dinner for one-on-one. 

the silence is broken when Tony speaks. “Everything turned out fine,” he said. “I wouldn’t have met my team if that hadn’t happened.” Bruce sagely nods. 

They are all aware of this. But just because something turned out fine does not mean that the person turned out fine. 

So they scoot closer together and suggest a movie. And then another one. Until Clint gets his turn, and he chooses a vine compilation. Which is so stupid, but it makes Tony laugh until he cries and maybe