Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Fourteen million, six hundred and five outcomes. In every single one of them, people died. There was no way to get out of this unscathed, there was no way to prevent every single loss they were going to face.

And out of all those outcomes, they only won once. Meaning Thanos won fourteen million, six hundred and four outcomes. Any little thing could go wrong and cause them to lose. Just one decision that seemed small at the time could mess every single thing up— could put the fate of the universe at risk.

So, when Stark asked how many times they won, Stephen had to look into his eyes, knowing that there were no outcomes where Stark in particular won. Knowing that even if they defeated Thanos, the price was Stark’s life. Knowing that this man was their only shot at saving half of the universe. Billions of lives were in his hands and he didn't even know it.

“One.”

He wasn't one to get attached to people so quickly. As the Sorcerer Supreme, his duty was to protect the universe above all else. Stark's death would be sad, but sacrifices had to be made. If he had to choose between one man and saving the universe, he must always pick the universe. Even if that man was Wong. Even if it was Stephen himself.

They fought Thanos, and, just as the Time Stone showed, they lost. They always lost. There was no future where Stephen was able to stop Star Lord and still defeat Thanos. There was no way to win in this moment, even if it would make everything easier.

Thanos defeated each and every one of them after that, and Stephen could only hope he could still make sure they were on the right path to ensure their eventual victory. No matter the cost.

He watched as Stark got stabbed by Thanos, not even wincing in sympathy at the pain he knew that must have caused. He watched as Thanos aimed his gauntlet towards Stark, the Stones glowing forebodingly, preparing for the kill. If Stark died now, half of the universe would go with him. Permanently, this time.

“Stop.”

Thanos slowly looked over at him. Chills went down his spine from the mere gaze of the titan that could destroy the universe, but outwardly, he tried to remain calm.

Even if his shaking hands betrayed him, trembling within the soft material of his gloves.

“Spare his life, and I will give you the Stone.”

The Time Stone glowed between his fingertips, the green hue almost comforting to him. He had guarded this Stone for so long. He had sworn to protect it, and look where that got him.

He was pathetic.

“Don't.” Though he could hear the desperation in Stark's voice, he didn't even look over as he handed the Stone over to Thanos. The weight of this decision might yet stay with him for eternity.

How funny it was that he had sworn he would protect the Stone above all else, even if it came down to protecting the Stone versus saving Stark. He really had to eat his own words.

And then Thanos was gone, and Stephen simply sat and waited. There was nothing more he could do now. It was all up to Stark and the remaining Avengers.

He watched as one by one, the so-called “Guardians of the Galaxy” disappeared, fading to dust.

And yet, instead of the scene itself, his gaze landed on Stark. He couldn't help it. He had already seen this all before anyways — every excruciating second of it.

Shock was the first to hit Stark as the other man watched his teammates disappear. The disbelief of someone who had never truly lost. Not like this. Perhaps Stephen had once been the same. Arrogant. Unshakeable. Invincible. Until, as it always did, reality intervened.

They weren't close. Not really. They had just met earlier that day, but Stephen could see pieces of himself reflected in Stark like a shattered mirror. Ego and brilliance, swirled into a dangerous combo.

The shock faded from Stark’s face, replaced by soul wrenching horror. Not from the loss of the battle, but from the unraveling of the lives around him— from the disappearance of his teammates, however temporary, however short lived, as they vanished. It was as if they had never been, only dust in their places. And that too, would fade.

Stephen knew this was his time. He would fade into dust just as the others had. But it wasn't for nothing. Stark would fix this. Stark would bring everybody back in the end, like the hero he was always meant to be.

Even at such a brutal cost.

“There was no other way,” Stephen said, hoping Stark would hear what Stephen truly meant to convey — reassurance. A command not to give up, no matter how hard things might get.

And then, he waited.

And waited.

But the seconds ticked by, and he still sat there. Breathing, blinking, thinking. Why was he still here? This didn't line up with any of the outcomes he had seen. Perhaps he has misjudged the time? But his memory was better than that. He had remembered far less significant details than something like this, in situations with far less pressure.

His resignation turned to confusion as he watched the Parker boy turn to dust as well. No, this was all wrong. He was supposed to go first. What was happening? Why was it different? Everything before this had been exactly what he had seen in the future.

Brain reeling, Stephen’s gaze snapped back to Stark. The man was curling in on himself, mourning the loss of Parker. They had been close, Stephen could tell that. Parker had seemed like a nice kid. Maybe with time, Stephen too would've grown to like him.

But no, that wasn't the point. Why was he still here?

Slowly, he looked to Nebula. In the future he had seen, she remained behind. She had played a vital role in helping Stark.

But before his eyes, she too faded to dust. Her expression hardly shifted as she watched her arms begin to disappear. She looked up at Stephen for a moment, though he couldn't tell what was going through her head.

And then she was gone, just like the others.

Stephen sat there for a few moments more, trying to figure out what this change meant to the universe. Trying to figure out how he could still fix this. How he could still assure this was the future where they won.

But he didn't have the Time Stone anymore; it couldn't provide him with any more answers. The universe’s fate was left completely up to Stark. And now, Stephen too.

The pain from their battle finally caught up to him. After crashing to the ground fighting Thanos, Stephen could feel the pain in his ribs whenever he shifted. He wasn't sure the extent of the damage, but he could be sure it wasn't anything good.

He should assess Stark too. The man hadn't uttered a word, nor had he moved from his position on the ground. He hadn't seemed to fully come to terms with the fact everyone else was gone now, a vacant expression on his face, his eyes hollow and wet. The reality of a universe spinning out of control resting heavily upon him, a burden nobody should have to carry.

Trying his best to ignore the pain, as he had done so many times before, Stephen forced himself to his feet, gritting his teeth against the sharp agony that brought to his ribs.

He hesitated for a moment, watching Stark quietly. It would take a while to work through the shock, but Stark seemed like a strong man. He'd make it through this. Stephen had seen him push through all of this in so many futures.

“Stark,” he said at last, keeping his eyes on the defeated figure as he approached.

Stark finally looked up, seeming momentarily surprised to see Stephen, as if he had forgotten he was there. Any vulnerability on his face faded quickly, however, something far more guarded replacing it.

“There was really no other way? No path where we save everyone? No path where you kept the time Stone and Thanos never got it?” he asked at last, getting to his feet, even as he trembled faintly.

Stephen wasn't sure how much he should say. Even if this wasn't the future he saw — even if he didn't see this future at all — he still didn't want to risk messing with time by telling Stark what happened.

“No.” One simple word, yet it seemed to weigh so heavily on Stark. The man's shoulders slumped once more, an expression of utter defeat written in every line of his face.

“It doesn't have to end here. We can still fight.” Stephen straightened himself, hands shaking as he lifted his arms and focused. Pain erupted in his ribs as he tried to draw the circular motions that were built into him like second nature.

For a moment, orange sparks flickered in the air, like embers from a flickering flame. Just as quickly, they vanished, falling to the rocks before being consumed by nothingness.

Agony rolled over him suddenly, starting from his core and working its way out. It felt like the life was being drained out of him, his energy dispersing completely as if he hadn't slept in weeks. And then, before he could so much as blink, he blacked out.
———

As he returned to consciousness, the pain followed swiftly — sharp and horrific. Every inhale felt like a knife between his ribs, and beneath that was something deeper: a drained, hollow ache that clung to every part of him.

“Hey, sleeping beauty. I was beginning to worry that you wouldn't wake up.” Stark’s voice was dry, but the weight behind it gave away the emotional turmoil he was in.

Stephen shifted upright, wincing as pain shot through his ribs. He was on some type of fold-out bed in what appeared to be a compact medbay. Retractable shelves lined one wall, some half stocked with medical supplies — some of which Stephen had never seen before.

A flicker of red darted into view. A moment later, the Cloak of Levitation wrapped around him with a certain, nearly desperate kind of care. It nestled tightly into the curve of his shoulders, bringing a familiar comfort with it.

Looking down at himself, he discovered his robes were gone, a soft brace wrapped around his ribs made out of some type of vaguely cloth-like material. It was crude, but still passable. He found himself vaguely impressed — Stark was far from a doctor, after all.

“How long was I out?” he asked finally, lifting his gaze.

Weariness was written across Stark’s face, his eyes still carrying the darkness of desolation that hadn't left since the battle with Thanos. In other words, he looked like shit, though Stephen could hardly assume he himself looked much better.

“Few hours. Speaking of— what the hell happened back there? You started doing your sparkly wizard thing before turning this lovely shade of seafoam green and then you passed out. Some sort of magical stroke or…?”

“Sorcerer,” Stephen corrected out of habit before sighing. “Not a wizard.”

He paused, mustering up the strength to continue. “I overextended myself in the battle. When I tried to open a portal, it was like attempting to draw power from an empty well.”

He hadn't held back with his magic at all— why would he? He had assumed he'd vanish alongside half of the universe. And that gamble had left him here. Wounded and spent, with no idea where to go next.

“I'm guessing that means a magical Uber back to earth is out of the question?” Stark asked, frowning.

“Not yet. I need time for recovery.”

A beat of awkward silence, the situation weighing heavy on both of them. Everyone else was gone now, leaving just them. Two arrogant “superheroes” who had tried — and failed — to save the world.

“While you were taking your little power nap, I had a look around. This ship seemingly belonged to Quill and the other two. It's not in great shape, but, with a bit of tweaking, I think I'll be able to get it up and running again,” Stark stated finally.

Stephen considered that. In the Time Stone, he had seen flashes of the future. He didn't have time to go through every single second of every possible outcome, so he only looked through the important parts. He had seen Stark and Nebula on this ship, but hadn't looked into all the details. Perhaps this was how they had made it back to earth in that timeline.

In any case, it was worth a shot. He wasn't sure precisely how long it would take for him to recover enough to conjure a portal.

Stark began making repairs to the ship whilst Stephen crossed his legs and entered a meditative state. His hope was that he could recover his energy faster this way, whilst also giving his body time to heal from his physical injuries.

On occasion, Stephen couldn't help but wonder if he was messing up the fate of their universe simply by being here. Nebula should be here, not him. Without the Time Stone, he had no idea what he should be doing— how he could steer them onto the right path and make sure they still defeated Thanos for good.

If they lost, would it be his fault?

Stephen was broken out of his thoughts as Stark entered the room again, stating that he had done the best he could and the ship should be good to go.

They both moved to the front of the ship. Neither of them were very familiar with piloting ships like this, but they both agreed Stark would have the best luck with it due to his experience with technology.

For about a minute, it seemed like everything would go smoothly. Stark had successfully gotten the ship off the planet and had begun advancing into space. Before Stephen had time to relax, however, things took a complete turn.

The ship started losing speed, first gradually, then all at once, before it was nothing but a huge chunk of metal in the endless expanse of the galaxy.

Stephen somehow managed to remain calm even as Stark checked on the ship and figured out the damage was worse off than he had originally thought. The man was a genius when it came to human tech, unfortunately, however, he had overestimated his abilities to repair the alien tech the Benatar was composed of.

In short, they were stranded in space with no one that knew where they were, no way to contact help, and absolutely no way out.

Yet again, Stephen had to wonder if he was a factor in everything going wrong. Perhaps if Nebula was here, she would've been able to find a way to fix the ship. He couldn't say he knew her well enough to know her capabilities in such matters.

“I don't suppose you have any way of making a magical telephone that can send an S.O.S signal to earth for help?” Stark asked, re-entering the main room of the ship after supposedly giving up on repairs.

“Even if I did possess such a spell, my energy hasn't replenished enough to risk using it,” Stephen replied simply. He had sat back in one of the chairs and had started preserving energy again.

“And of course you had to pick a sentient cloak instead of an owl like all the normal wizards,” Stark quipped, taking a seat next to him and staring through the window at the void of faraway stars and galaxies.

From its position on Stephen's shoulders, the Cloak fluttered dramatically.

“The Magical Menagerie was closed the day I visited Diagon Alley,” Stephen replied without missing a beat.

One corner of Stark's lips tilted ever so slightly upwards for a moment before his face returned to its now-usual weariness. Stephen found that he was glad to see it, however short lived.

“This doesn't happen to be part of the future you saw in your green glowy Stone of doom, does it? Any chance this is just one of those side quest episodes before we take out the big bad?” Stark questioned hesitantly, momentarily glancing at Stephen.

“If I tell you what happens, it won't happen,” Stephen replied, leaning back into the chair and wincing as sharp pain bit its way through his ribs once more.

Saying he couldn't tell Stark seemed a lot more eloquent than telling him he hadn't seen this future at all, even if it wasn't completely true. No use in making him feel worse than he likely already did, anyways.

“Right, of course. Can't mess with the world by sharing your magic future sight with muggles.”

They both settled back into silence after that. Despite how calm and collected Stephen managed to appear outwardly, inwardly he felt hollow. He felt as if there was a gaping chasm inside him that was slowly consuming him from the inside out, and he wasn't sure how long he'd be able to keep this up.

Stark at least seemed reassured by his serenity. Likely, he thought that since Stephen wasn't reacting, this was all part of the plan. Stephen only felt a little guilty at being so misleading, but it's not like panicking would help either of them.
———

Days passed. Stark kept trying to find a way to fix the ship, but to no avail. Stephen tried to brainstorm ideas, but still the only plan he really had was simply waiting for his energy to replenish enough to make a portal. His recovery wasn't going as speedily as he had hoped.

One time, Stephen stepped into the engine room to check up on Stark and see if he'd made any progress. He froze as he entered the room, his eyes landing on the figure of Stark sitting on the floor, his knees tucked into his chest and his face in his arms.

Stephen just stood there awkwardly for a few seconds, trying to figure out what to do in this situation. Comforting people had never been his strong suit. Especially people he didn't know all that well, such as Stark.

Stark either wasn't aware of Stephen's presence, or didn't care enough to move yet. Stephen was betting on the former, considering his pride. Should he just back away and give Stark some space, or should he say something?

After a few more moments of hesitation, Stephen slowly backed out of the room before pausing. Just leaving Stark there to grieve on his own felt wrong somehow. He had to do something.

Thinking on that for a few more seconds, Stephen gently patted the Cloak and took it off his shoulders. The red garment tilted slightly, as if confused.

“I think Stark in there could use your comfort and warmth more than I can right now. Wanna help out?” Stephen asked softly, careful to keep his voice down so Stark wouldn't overhear him.

The Cloak shook up and down as if nodding before turning and flowing into the room. Stephen lingered outside for a few more moments before leaving and heading back to the lounge area to meditate.
———

Tony wasn't feeling great, to put it mildly. He had to watch as his— what could he even call the Guardians— temporary acquaintances faded into nothing. And then Peter had begged not to go before he disappeared as well.

He couldn't help but feel as if this was all his fault. Maybe if he had been stronger, maybe if he had stopped Quill in time… so many maybes.

And then he stranded himself and Strange on a spaceship in the middle of the galaxy, and was having absolutely no luck with the repairs. And Strange… Tony wasn't sure how to feel about Strange, in all honesty. The sorcerer was… well… strange. In more ways than one, apparently.

His emotions were threatening to pull him somewhere he wasn't sure he could return from. He didn't know what to do anymore. He wasn't even sure who remained for him on earth, assuming he lived long enough to find out.

Everything he had been holding at bay finally crashed down on him as he searched the engine room again for something he missed, and failed to fix anything. Emotional torment ripped through his chest, aching in all the worst ways possible, till he found himself curled up on the ground, silently sobbing.

It was hopeless. Everything was completely hopeless. Even if Strange got them out of this, would it truly matter? Was there any way to bring everybody back, or was half of the universe really gone now?

He wasn't sure how long he sat there before he heard an odd shuffling sound. Looking up, he saw the bizarre sight of Strange's cloak hovering in front of him, the edges of it flowing as if from a magical wind.

Tony tried to wipe his eyes, though it was a pretty useless action considering the fact he couldn’t manage to force himself to stop crying.

“Sorry, but I think you missed laundry day,” Tony tried to joke, but his tone was heavier than he had intended it to be.

The Cloak just hovered there for a moment before lowering closer to the ground. Tony wondered if he was going mad as he imagined a sort of hesitation coming from the garment. Then again, crazier things than cloaks having feelings had happened.

It stopped right in front of him, gesturing to his shoulder with one of its corners. Tony squinted at it for a moment before realizing what it wanted and nodding mutely.

The garment excitedly fluttered closer before gently wrapping itself around his shoulders, squeezing him gently.

Tony rested his face on one arm again, closing his eyes as tears silently streamed down his face. He knew he should keep it together, if not for himself, then for Strange, but it was hard. With each passing day, Tony began to lose more and more hope.

Before long, their food would run out. Maybe even their oxygen eventually, based on the condition the ship was in. And then what? Whenever Tony had asked Strange when he'd be able to portal them out of there, he never got a straight answer.

He wondered if Strange had found him in this pitiful state and that's why the Cloak had come, or if it had simply come out of its own free will. Either way, it was oddly comforting for some reason.

He contented himself to sit there for a few moments more, the Cloak gently wrapped around him whilst he put himself back together.

Tony wasn't sure how they'd make it out of this situation. He wasn't even sure what kind of destruction was left back on earth.

Would they even make it back to earth? There was no way to be sure. All he could do now was try to fix things and hope not all was lost.
———

Chapter Text

𝗗𝗮𝘆 𝗳𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗻.

They had already started rationing their food long ago, but Tony wasn't optimistic. Between the two of them, they couldn't have more than a few days left before they ran out. Humans could hypothetically go for months without food, but it wouldn't be a pleasant experience at all.

Strange was eating far less than Tony, which made him worried. He had said some bullshit about fasting when he was training for his magic wizard stuff, but Tony wasn't sure he was being completely truthful.

Plus, they were both injured and needed the proper nutrients to heal. Especially Strange. The sorcerer tried to hide it, but Tony could hear his breath hitch sometimes when he moved too much, or see him wince as he breathed too sharply.

Considering Strange was their only real hope at getting out of here, Tony really wished he would take better care of himself. Not only that; he was growing a bit fond of the guy. They still didn't know each other well, but being in a life or death situation tended to push people together.

Most times when he was feeling down, the Cloak would somehow find him and wrap itself comfortingly around his shoulders. Tony still had no idea if it did this of its own accord, or if Strange kept sending it to him.

Tony gave up on his efforts to fix the ship (again) and made his way back to the cockpit. Strange was already there, sitting in one of the chairs, his expression far away as he stared into the endless void. Tony took a seat next to him and they both stared in silence for a few moments.

It would probably be beautiful if the thought of dying amongst it wasn't such a prevalent thought.

“It likes you.” It took Tony a moment to figure out what Strange meant before the sorcerer turned, gesturing to the cloak that was once more wrapped around his shoulders. He didn't miss the flash of pain that crossed Strange's expression as he moved, but there was little point in mentioning it.

“What's not to like?” Tony joked, patting the Cloak appreciatively.

Strange regarded him for a few moments, his expression inscrutable. Then, he turned back to staring at the void.

“Do you think everybody back on earth is assuming we're dead?” Tony voiced uncertainly, leaning back in his chair as he kept his gaze on space.

The sorcerer seemed to think about it for a few moments before replying. “No. They practically believe you to be invincible. I don't think they'll give up hope unless they see you die right in front of their eyes.”

“What about you? Do you have anyone to get back to?” On second thought, Tony wasn't sure that was the best way to phrase it, but it was too late now.

“I need to get back to the Sanctum, but I have no doubt Wong is doing just fine without me for the moment.”

Tony glanced over at Strange again, but his expression was still impassive. Either he was a whole lot braver than Tony, or he was just good at faking it. Did Strange really not have anyone? Was he a loner at heart, or was there more to it? He and Wong had seemed close, he supposed, but it was still a depressing thought nonetheless.

“What about you? Miss Potts must miss you.”

Tony's gaze turned back to the void as he considered the question.

“Pepper and I broke up a few weeks ago,” Tony said, shrugging.

“Oh.” Strange winced— this time not from the pain— his expression finally shifting to something more uncertain. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't be. It was mutual. She's a great person, but we're not fit for each other in that way. I always wanted to be a hero and I think that stressed her out a lot, amongst other things and we just sort of grew apart. We're still friends, though.”

They returned to silence again. Neither of them had shared any personal details like this before, but it was kind of nice to talk to someone about it.

“I had someone once.” Tony glanced back at Strange again as he broke the silence, curiosity piqued by the hesitation in his voice.

“Christine. She was a good person too — a lot better than I ever was. She was there for me when I was at my worst, but in the end, I pushed her away. I was arrogant back then. Prideful. I didn't realize my mistake until it was too late.” A frown overtook Strange's face for a moment, then he sighed. He seemed like he was about to say something more for a moment, but ultimately the silence continued.

“I don't pretend to know much about you, but for what it's worth, Doc, I think you're a good person now. Whatever you did in the past doesn't have to shape you. Shit, I was a bit of an asshole back then too. Still am, really, but I've gotten better. From the looks of it, you have too. We all do things we're not proud of.” As Tony finished speaking, the Cloak silently slipped from his shoulders and draped itself back over Strange.

Strange glanced over at him again, and their eyes met for a moment. He wasn't sure what Strange saw, but his expression seemed to soften as he broke the gaze to look away again.

“Perhaps you're right.”
———

𝗗𝗮𝘆 𝘀𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗻.

“What is that?” Tony peered around Strange’s shoulder at the card in his hand of a weird blue alien person.

They had found a deck of cards with different alien species and information on them, and were currently inspecting them for the lack of anything better to do.

“It states here it's a Kree from the planet Hala. They're known for their skill in genetic engineering,” Strange replied.

Tony frowned as he noticed Strange's hand shaking ever so slightly as it held the card. Strange always wore gloves, too. At first Tony thought it was some kind of weird fashion statement to go with his robes and cloak, but now… Hm. It wasn't really any of his business, so he ignored it for now. Definitely going to ask later.

“Finally, something normal,” Tony said as Strange picked up a card with a cat on it. Then Strange flipped the card over to reveal the same “cat” with giant tentacles coming out of its mouth.

“‘The Flerken is known for the tentacles that come out of their mouths, and the pocket dimensions that seemingly exist inside their stomachs. They also have the ability to swallow things larger than themselves,’” Strange read aloud, his eyebrows raised.

“And suddenly I'm glad I’m a dog person,” Tony remarked, staring at the picture and wondering why the universe was like this.

They looked at the cards for a bit longer before putting them back and instead took their regular seats in the cockpit.

“What is it you do anyways? I mean, aside from flying around in a magic Cloak and fighting titans.” He wasn't completely sure why, but the longer Tony spent with Strange, the more curious he got about him.

“I am the Sorcerer Supreme. I protect the universe from mystical threats and defend this reality.” From Strange's shoulders, the Cloak almost seemed to nod proudly.

“So you're like an Avenger but for the magical side of things.”

Strange frowned at that statement, but didn't refute it.

“We've been here for what — seventeen days, and we still barely know each other,” Tony realized, glancing over at Strange whose expression was once again guarded. He didn't let anyone in, did he?

“What's your favorite color?” he asked suddenly, deciding to try and conquer the metaphorical distance between them.

Strange raised his eyebrows. “Blue.”

“Blue? Really? I guess I can see it. Your turn now; ask me a question.”

Strange just stared at him for a few moments before his lips quirked up into an almost-smile. Tony decided he liked this development, though he wasn't completely sure why. It was just nice to clear the tension and depression lingering in the air, he supposed.

“If you could do it all again, would you? Building the suit and joining the Avengers?” Strange asked after a moment.

“Wow, I can't believe I started with favorite color and you went straight for the gold,” Tony joked playfully before considering the question. “At one point I might've said no, but I'd be kidding myself. Iron Man has always been a part of me, and being part of something bigger than myself definitely gives everything more meaning. Plus the action figures of me are awesome, always a bonus.”

Strange just nodded, something dark flicking across his expression for a moment and okay what was with this guy? He was full of so many mysteries; Tony wanted nothing more than to get to the bottom of them all.

“So, what were you before all the sparkles and portals? Doctor, right?” Tony asked at last, wondering how Strange had ended up here.

“A neurosurgeon. I was at the top of my field, and everybody either hated, respected, or envied me. Sometimes a mix of all three.” Strange glanced out the window into the void again, something akin to nostalgia crossing his face.

Tony decided to end the questions there, not wanting to push too hard. They both fell silent, lost in their own thoughts as they started into the now-too-familiar sight of the galaxy before them.
———

𝗗𝗮𝘆 𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗻.

Tony's inability to sleep more than five hours at a time combined with the constant hunger pains and weakness was definitely not fun to put up with. He couldn't imagine how Strange was feeling either, considering his fractured ribs added to everything.

He silently thought this all over as Strange tended to his wound. The man's hands shook as he did so, but he still seemed incredibly focused. Tony's wound was healing fairly well, but the doctor slash sorcerer still insisted on checking on it every so often. Tony thought he should be more concerned about his own injuries, but whenever he said so, Strange claimed he was fine. Either he was more selfless than Tony had anticipated, or had a very high pain tolerance.

“Any estimates on when your magic will recover enough for you to do your sparkly thing and get us out of here?” Tony asked finally, trying his best to stay still while Strange finished treating the injury.

“I cannot be certain. If I try to open a portal again, and I do not have enough energy, it might drain me and cause my recovery to take even longer.” Strange frowned as he said this, clearly not happy with the situation either.

“Yeah, let's not do that. If you pass out again, I don't think I'd be able to catch you in the state I'm in now,” Tony teased, trying to lighten up the sudden tenseness that has filled the air.

“Judging by the state of your suit, I'm inclined to agree,” Strange replied, turning away and putting back the supplies he'd used as he finished his treatment.

“Hey, the suit is what makes me iron, but it's not what makes me man.” Honestly, Tony didn't know what he was going for there. He could see the beginnings of a smile on Strange's face, however, so he counted it as a win anyways.
———

𝗗𝗮𝘆 𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘆-𝘁𝘄𝗼.

Tony had made another trip to the engine room out of desperation, hoping he could find a way to fix it, but he still found nothing. Judging by the state the ship was in, he was guessing they had about a day more of oxygen before they were officially screwed.

He used what was left of his suit to record a message to Pepper. They may not be together anymore, but he was still close to her, and she'd know who to show it to if he actually did bite the dust. Bite the dust; what an ironic saying. He should save that for later if he ever made it out of here.

Halfway through his monologue, the Cloak found him again. It always brought warmth and comfort with it, and Tony absentmindedly made a mental note to ask Strange if he had any more sentient cloaks to be borrowed.

A few hours later, Tony was back in his regular seat in the cockpit, staring into the void and wondering if this was where he died. Strange was off in the corner, trying to do his sparkly thing again but it didn't look like he was having much luck. Sparks flickered in and out of sight, but no portal appeared. Sweat was beginning to accumulate on the sorcerer’s forehead, and his face grew paler. Tony would've reprimanded him if there was any use anymore.

This was it. This was where they were going to die. There was nothing more they could do.

Just as a weight set heavily in the bottom of Tony's stomach, his eyes registered something glowing. At first it was faint, just a gold glow in the distance, then suddenly it was blinding, leaking through the ship like invasive sunlight, filling every corner of the room.

“What is that?” Strange asked, finally ditching his efforts of portal-making to stand next to Tony, shaking hands shielding his face against the blinding light.

“Joint hallucination?” Tony suggested as a figure appeared in the middle of the glow. A woman. She seemed to be the source of the glow, bright golden light emanating from her, causing the outline of her body to shimmer like a firefly. She looked utterly ethereal, like something from heaven. Then, she smiled. If Tony wasn't so exhausted, he might've marvelled at the bizarre sight. Then again, he had seen much stranger things during his lifetime.

They both fell silent as the woman disappeared again. Without warning, the ship— previously immobile for over twenty days— suddenly started moving.

They were being saved.
———

Chapter Text

They still weren't sure exactly what was happening, but eventually the blue and green exterior of earth was visible. Stephen breathed a sigh of relief; maybe he hadn't messed up the timeline after all.

The ship was slowly lowered to the ground, and Stephen could make out the Avengers’ compound nearby. Not the first place he would've gone to, but it definitely beat dying in space.

Stephen and Stark both made their way out of the ship, Rogers running forward to help Stark walk. Both of them had lost a lot of weight due to the lack of food on the Benatar, but Stephen was more easily able to pretend he was fine.

Nobody rushed to help him, but that was okay. He hung back, pretending each step didn't send a jolt of pain throughout him. Pretending, as always, that everything was okay.

Remorse was evident in Stark’s tone as he mentioned losing the kid, Parker. A woman Stephen could only assume was Miss Potts, or “Pepper” as Stark called her, rushed forward, giving him a hug. Despite their breakup, Stephen could tell they remained close, just as Stark had said on the ship.

Stark glanced back at him as Rogers started escorting him to the compound, as if making sure he was okay, and Stephen nodded in response.

A raccoon stood nearby, which Stephen found a bit odd. He'd seen a raccoon within the glimpses of the future he saw in the Time Stone, but he still wasn't completely certain what their connection was with the Avengers.

The raccoon simply stared at the ship for a moment, but Stephen didn't pay further attention to them (him?) as he followed the others to the compound.

Later, they were all seated at a large table, silent as Romanoff explained the situation. Stephen already knew what had happened, but grimness still set in nonetheless. Half of the universe, gone. Reduced to dust. And he'd been able to do nothing to stop it. All he could do now was hope that, as in the future he'd seen, they'd be able to bring everyone back.

Stephen still remained silent as Stark and Rogers argued, though he did get preemptively out of his seat, worried for Stark's well-being as the man rose out of his wheelchair.

Stephen had been given an IV too, though he had resolutely refused to use a wheelchair. He was weak, but he'd spent much of his time in meditation, conserving his energy, and his training in Kamar-Taj had left him more tolerant than most.

He wasn't really certain of Stark's history with Rogers, but he was already starting to dislike the so-called “Captain America”. Plus, he was beginning to develop an odd sort of protectiveness towards Stark, even though he wasn't sure why.

He acknowledged he had no place in this argument, however, and was intent on staying out of the way until Stark full on passed out.

At that point, he got out of his seat, ignoring the dizziness that brought, unhooked his own IV, and stepped towards Stark.

“I'm a doctor,” he stated as the Avengers looked uncertain.

Everybody just now seemed to realize he was out of place here, but he ignored them as he knelt next to Stark, checking his vitals. For a supposed genius, this guy really seemed to be an idiot at times.

Stephen was hit with another wave of guilt as he thought back to the future he'd seen, but he pushed it away as Stark was transported to one of the medical rooms. He followed close behind, unwilling to be parted from the only person he actually knew here. Plus, he wanted to avoid talking to the others for as long as possible in case they asked him questions. His very presence here might be messing with the future.

He hovered uncertainly in the corner of the room as Potts sat beside Stark's bedside. Stephen knew he would be fine, but that didn't stop a feeling of foreboding from rising within him.
———

The remaining Avengers held a meeting, but Stephen stayed with Stark, already knowing the gist of what they were discussing anyways. Their efforts to find the Stones would be in vain, and that left a sinking sensation in Stephen's stomach.

So much pain, and for what? Less mouths to feed? Stephen could understand Thanos’s viewpoint in some proportion, but it was still fucked up.

Stark woke up eventually, and part of Stephen wondered if he should leave the room as Potts gave him a summary of current events. Before he could actually turn to leave, however, he heard a soft “Hey, Wizard.”

Stark was staring at him expectantly, so Stephen stepped towards his bedside.

“You're going to need a lot of rest in your current state,” Stephen stated, still partially in doctor mode.

The Cloak slipped off Stephen's shoulders to check on Stark. Stephen really wasn't sure why it had taken such a liking to the man, but he had other things to worry about at the moment.

“What is that?” Potts asked, seeming more curious than anything as she watched the Cloak curl affectionately around Stark like a blanket.

“The Cloak of Levitation,” Stephen stated at the same time Stark said, “Strange's pet cloak.”

Stephen frowned at Stark, whilst the latter just shrugged.

“Well, I'll leave you guys to it. I hope you feel better soon, Tony,” Potts said, giving Stark a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder and taking one last look at the Cloak before heading out the door.

“The Cloak is not a pet, it is a magical relic,” Stephen chided as soon as she was gone.

“Next you're gonna tell me you're actually a sorcerer and not a wizard.”

Stephen sighed, though he couldn't help his lips from quirking upwards out of amusement. He had grown to like Stark's playful quips during their time in space.

Another pang of guilt hit him as he remembered the image of Stark's dead body lying on the ground, but he pushed it aside.

“Shouldn't you be resting as well? You're not really in much better shape than I am, Doc.” Stark regarded him more seriously this time, and Stephen could see a slight hint of concern in his expression.

“I'll be fine.” Stephen did sit down in the chair next to the hospital bed though, knowing he shouldn't strain himself.

“So, Pepper told me the others are on their way to find Thanos,” Stark said after a moment, his tone becoming more solemn now. There was a hint of bitterness in his tone as well, and it didn't take much thought to tell that Stark was likely annoyed at being left behind. Not like he'd be able to do much in his current state, but Stephen had a feeling telling him that would do little to appease him.

“They left a few hours ago,” Stephen replied calmly, already feeling the inevitable questions coming.

“Any chance they'll actually find the Stones there and that's why you gave up the Time Stone on Titan?” There was a slight hint of hope in Stark's voice. Stephen really wished it was that easy.

He hesitated for a moment before ultimately deciding Stark would find out later anyways. There wasn't much harm in divulging that information. It couldn't change anything now.

“No. Thanos destroyed them.”

Stark closed his eyes briefly, though he managed to maintain a level expression.

“Of course he did.”

“Listen, Stark—”

“Considering we spent an extended period of time trapped in outer space together and both almost died, I think it's safe for you to call me Tony,” Stark interjected, causing Stephen to hesitate for a moment.

“Alright. Tony,” Stephen continued, the name feeling weird on his tongue. “I know there's going to be a lot of questions about the future, but I cannot share much with you. There are millions of possible futures, and if I tell you what could happen, it might change the path of our timeline beyond repair.” Stephen had sort of explained this to Sta— Tony before, but he had a feeling it needed to be reaffirmed.

Tony seemed to think about that for a moment before reluctantly nodding. Then he froze for a second.

“Wait, we still have a chance to win, then? Even though Thanos destroyed the Stones?” Tony frowned, looking at Stephen.

Stephen raised his eyebrows disapprovingly, and Tony smiled. It was the first time Stephen had seen him genuinely smile in a while, and the sight caught him slightly off guard.

“Alright, alright, I won't ask anything more. Your secrets are safe.” Even though Tony agreed with him now, Stephen was sure this wasn't the last time the subject would come up.

“Oh, and one more thing.” Tony looked up as Stephen spoke again, breaking the momentary silence. “If I have to call you Tony, then you can call me Stephen as well. It's only fair.

“Stephen. Okay. That's weird, but I'll get used to it,” Tony said, face scrunching up a bit as he said the name.

Stephen allowed himself to relax for the moment. They still had a tough road ahead of them, but this moment was okay. Spending time with Tony was more than okay, for whatever reason. They both got along very well

In any case, they'd be getting to know each other a lot better before this was all over.

For better, or for worse.
———

Chapter Text

It had been about a week since the other Avengers had gotten back from space. They came with the news that they'd murdered Thanos, but, as Strange (Stephen?) had predicted, they were not able to procure the Stones.

Stephen had wanted to go back to his magical wizard sanctum, but Tony had convinced him to stay a bit longer so that he could recover. Now both of them were staying at the Avengers' Compound, recovering from the recent events that had left everyone scarred in more ways than one.

Tony was currently in his workshop, fiddling with the remains of his suit. Stephen had told him to rest, but Tony hardly counted tinkering with his suit as strenuous activity anyways. Besides, what Stephen didn't know wouldn't kill him.

He was wearing the suit in diagnostic mode when the sound of the sliding door opening broke him out of his thoughts.

Tony looked up sharply, his helmet retracting. “Oh shit— FRIDAY, did you let him in?” Nothing but silence on the AI’s behalf. Traitor.

“Tony,” Stephen said, stepping forward with his arms folded. His tone was calm and measured, but the look in his eyes hinted that he was already imagining throttling Tony. The Cloak billowed around him dramatically, even though there was no wind in the compound, adding to the overall effect. How did he always pull that off?

“Doc,” Tony said, trying and failing at taking on a casual tone. “I'm just making sure the suit is working. Nothing crazy.”

“You’re supposed to be resting,” Stephen rebuked, dropping his arms as he scanned Tony—no, the suit, Tony realized. Of course.

“Yeah, I was,” Tony said lightly. “Then I got bored. You know how it is.” He shrugged.

The Cloak stilled, but Stephen's expression didn't soften in the slightest. Tony shifted his weight from foot to foot, trying not to appear like a kid who had gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

The bright yellow shade of Stephen's gloves caught his eye suddenly. The sorcerer still hadn't taken them off, even after being at the Compound for a while. The curiosity was starting to get the best of Tony.

“Why do you wear those gloves anyways? New fashion statement I haven't heard about?” he asked, gesturing vaguely at Stephen's hands.

“Don't change the subject.” Despite the calm way that Stephen said it, Tony observed his expression grow slightly darker. Okay, dropping it. For now.

They both had an intense staring contest for a moment before the Cloak of Levitation suddenly unwound from Stephen's shoulders to wrap around Tony instead.

Stephen frowned further, staring at the Cloak for a moment. Tony, likewise, stood slightly dumbfounded as he patted his newly acquired attire.

“I guess it's my turn to have custody,” Tony said at last, attempting to break the tension.

“Traitor,” Stephen retorted, though the corners of his lips tilted upwards.

The Cloak raised its corners in a shrug.
——

The Cloak was beginning to really like Tony for some reason. A few times, when he and Stephen were hanging out, or even just in the same room, the Cloak would randomly switch from Stephen to Tony. And then sometimes back again.

Even Stephen seemed a bit confused about this development, which left Tony with no idea what to think. Apparently, the Cloak had never done this with anyone else before.

Tony was actually starting to like the Cloak. It was comforting and comfortable, plus it was nice to see Stephen lighten up a bit when he saw Tony wearing it.

One day, Tony found himself in his workshop adjusting a few more things on his suit, the Cloak wrapped around his shoulders.

Then, without warning, the Cloak began tugging Tony backwards.

“Hey, wait a minute, I'm not done,” Tony protested, trying to dig his heels into the ground to stop the momentum.

Tony finally gave up fighting it and dropped his tools on the nearest surface, the Cloak beginning to drag him away once more. Where was it trying to go?

It pulled him insistently through the Compound until he reached the room he recognized as Stephen's. Before Tony could even think to knock, the door slid open.

Tony just registered that Stephen was sitting on the floor, legs crossed as he meditated, before he was suddenly lifted into the air by the Cloak.

“Wait—” And then he was unceremoniously tugged forward, still midair, and dumped right into Stephen's lap. This upset the wound in his abdomen slightly, but he had more pressing concerns.

Tony looked up to see his own shock mirrored in Stephen's expression, both of them just staring at each other for a moment as they tried to comprehend what just happened. Meanwhile the Cloak, completely content with the chaos it just created, cozily attached itself back to Stephen's shoulders.

Tony was pretty sure he had never seen such bewilderment on Stephen's face before, even considering when they had gotten stuck in space.

“I take it the Cloak hasn't done this before..?” Tony asked dumbly, the first to break the silence.

“No. This is… new.” Stephen’s expression gradually returned to normal, though Tony could see the effort it took to do so.

It took Tony longer than it should have to realize he was, in fact, still in Stephen's lap. Even more shamefully, it took another few seconds for him to realize he should most definitely move. As soon as he realized this, however, he then realized Stephen's arms were lightly wrapped around him, one around his back and one under his legs. Probably instinctual, considering Tony had literally fallen onto him. He still had his gloves on and his hands were still shaking, but Tony had gotten used to that by now, even if his curiosity hadn't dimmed.

As soon as Stephen tracked Tony's gaze to his arms, he immediately let go, which only caused Tony to sink further into his lap.

“...”

“...”

“I'm just gonna…” Tony slowly pushed himself up before getting out of the compromising position and standing up again.

“That was not on my bingo card for the year. Teach your Cloak some manners, will you? Anyways I better get back to my workshop.” Without staying to hear what Stephen would say, Tony swiftly retreated through the door and made his way back to his workshop.

He couldn't figure out why his face was burning.
———

Tony actively avoided the Cloak for about a day after the falling incident, but whenever he denied its attempts to come over to him, he could swear it looked dejected. Eventually, Tony gave in and let it wrap around his shoulders once more— how could he say no to a sentient piece of clothing?

It still hadn't completely sunk in for Tony that half the universe was gone. The evidence was all around him, hell, he had seen it happen, yet it was still hard to believe. He kept expecting Peter to text him and update him on some small neighborhood crime he had stopped, but it never happened. Because Peter was gone.

Every once in a while, Tony would remember that day; the desperation in Peter's voice as he begged not to go. The feeling of the boy's arms wrapped around him before he was gone, reduced to nothing but a swirl of dust.

He was too young. He still had a life to live, still had so much ahead of him… How could this happen?

Sometimes he would have nightmares of Titan. Sometimes he would fall asleep only to see Thanos again, but instead of just taking the Stone and leaving, he killed Stephen. Tony had to watch him bleed out after Thanos left, knowing there was nothing he could do. Sometimes, the others didn't even get taken away in the snap. Instead, he had to watch, completely powerless as Thanos killed them one by one instead.

One time he even dreamt that Thanos came to earth first and pried the Time Stone off of Stephen's dead body, and then instead of turning half the universe to dust, he turned everyone but Tony to dust. Then Tony watched as every single person around him disappeared, and he was left with nothing but the weight of his own failure. The earth went up in flames, and each one of his suits came alive and tried to kill him. Ultron was there suddenly, and the dream ended right as the bot attempted to land his final blow.

He was in his workshop when he found himself being struck by this all again. He couldn't stop thinking about that fight on Thanos, going over all the things he did wrong and all the things he could have done right.

If he hadn't lost to Thanos, Stephen wouldn't have had to give up the Stone. Half the universe would still be here. Peter would still be here.

His thoughts started to spiral out of control again, everything hitting him even harder than it had back in space. His heart was pounding— no not again, not this again. Hadn't he gotten past this?

He struggled to catch his breath as he leaned against the wall, digging his nails into his sweating palms.

Stephen had always seemed so tranquil, so sure about everything that Tony had thought eventually everything would be okay, eventually they would win— but what if they didn't? What if Peter was gone forever? What if, this time, he failed? All his past victories would be for nothing, everything would pale in comparison to the fact that half the universe was gone, and might never return.

He tried to get a hold of himself, tried to push away the racing torrent of thoughts, but he couldn't. It was too much. Everything was too much.

He hadn't even noticed the Cloak had left until he felt something wrapping back around his shoulders again, squeezing him gently like a hug. It wasn't enough. It couldn't be enough. Not like last time. He failed, he failed and now they were all gone, and he would never hear Peter call him “Mr. Stark” again, he would have to live with the hatred of everyone remaining because he had failed to save their loved ones— he would have to live with the fact that he was still alive while they had all died.

“Tony.” When had Stephen arrived?

Tony really had to pull himself together, but he couldn't. His thoughts wouldn't stop spinning and he still couldn't breathe and his heart felt like it might escape his ribcage at any moment through the sheer force it was beating with.

“Tony, you need to breathe,” Stephen said calmly, stepping closer to him, yet maintaining a slight distance.

Tony wanted to make some type of sarcastic remark but he couldn't think of anything worthwhile whilst his brain was still reeling. Fuck.

“It's okay. I'm here now, you're safe. Everyone is safe. Feel the Cloak? Focus on its texture. Focus on the sound of my voice. You're going to be okay.” The sorcerer’s voice was serene, radiating warmth.

“You need to slow your breathing. Focus on me, on the way I'm breathing. Try and follow along.” Stephen began counting their breaths after that, and Tony tried to concentrate on nothing but him, pushing his dark thoughts aside to the best of his abilities.

After a few minutes, Tony was finally breathing regularly again, and his heart was no longer thumping heavily within his chest.

“Thanks, Doc. Guess I owe you one,” he said at last, straightening himself as he tried to push past the humiliation of being caught in the middle of another attack.

Stephen simply nodded, calm and collected as ever.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Tony hesitated for a moment, but ultimately figured that no good would come of it. Stephen already stated he couldn't tell Tony about the future, and there's not much else that could calm the storm raging inside him.

“I’m alright. Not much more to be said.”

Stephen lingered for a while longer and Tony felt the slightest bit better because of it. Tony explained how the technology in his suit worked, and Stephen explained his magic portal thingy, something that still made absolutely no sense to Tony even after the explanation. Things weren't great— they wouldn't be for a while. But for now, it was okay.
———

Chapter Text

𝗬𝗲𝗮𝗿 𝗼𝗻𝗲

It had been three weeks since they returned from space; Stephen had moved out of the Compound and back to his Sanctum just the other day. At first, Tony didn't think much of it, but then he started to actually miss the sorcerer.

The absence of the Cloak also made him feel colder and more alone than he had before. He had the other Avengers— what was left of them— but everything was still a bit tense since his argument with Steve.

He hadn't realized it, but he had grown pretty close to Stephen over the long weeks they spent together.

So, Tony finally got bored of waiting around thinking about all the things he could have done on Titan and impulsively decided to go and pay him a visit. To get some answers from him, obviously. No other reason.

Despite having been to the Sanctum before, Tony was still taken aback by how bizarre the whole place was. As soon as he stepped through the doors, Stephen, as if noticing his presence before he even entered, was there in an instant.

“Tony. What brings you here?” the sorcerer asked calmly, though Tony swore he could see his mouth turn up in the tiniest of smiles.

The Cloak excitedly zipped off of Stephen's shoulders to energetically wrap itself around Tony, and he couldn't help but smile at the sight of it. Stephen raised his eyebrows slightly, a hint of amusement on his face.

“Doc. How's the whole magic wizard thing treating you?” Tony glanced around a bit. Last time he was here, he hadn't really gotten to take the time to look at everything on account of the universe being in danger. It was a pretty nice place, if not a bit empty.

“Good.” His short reply made Tony hesitate, but he decided not to overthink it.

“Right. Well. Listen, Doc, I know you've said you can't tell me about the future— hey stop with that look of disapproval, let me finish— but is there really nothing at all you can impart? Not even some kind of wizard prophecy? Do you do those?”

“No.”

“No prophecies. Dumbledore would be disappointed in you. But surely there's something you can say? I can't handle sitting around and doing nothing when I know half the universe is gone, Stephen. Yeah that still feels strange.”

“I knew you were going to make a ‘Strange’ joke at some point,” Stephen sighed.

“Couldn't help it; it really is too easy.”

They both stared at each other for a moment. Tony refused to back down, not until Stephen told him something. The Cloak, unaware or unbothered by the tenseness, happily flowed around Tony's shoulders.

“It's not that simple, Tony. Messing with the future is extremely dangerous. Telling you even the slightest detail could change everything for the worse. Things that are supposed to happen might not happen at all, and everything is quite delicate.” Stephen crossed his arms, his tone heavy as he regarded Tony.

“Doc, we've already been through hell together. We were stuck on a ship in the middle of space for twenty five days, we literally drank each other's urine—”

“Why would you say it like that…” Stephen's brows raised, lips parting slightly. It was the closest expression to horror that Tony had ever seen cross his face. If there weren't more important things to be doing, Tony might've laughed.

“—I think you can afford to tell me a few small details,” he finished, refusing to give up as he crossed his arms as well.

Stephen frowned at him, and the two fell into tense silence once more.

“At least tell me how long we have to wait till we can actually do something,” Tony said at last, running a hand through his hair as he tried to stop himself from pacing.

Stephen stayed silent for a few more seconds before sighing, the tenseness leaving his shoulders as he almost seemed to wilt.

“Five years.” Those two words hit Tony immediately, weighing down both his shoulders and his heart.

“Five years. Great. That's only half a decade, what does it matter if half the universe is gone for that long,” Tony retorted, ultimately failing his attempts at his resolution not to pace as he began to walk back and forth, his nerves slowly building.

“Are you really telling me we have to what— sit around on our asses and do nothing for five years? Let everyone believe their loved ones are gone? Let them grieve for five whole years when we could be doing something 𝘯𝘰𝘸?” Tony waved his hands in the air, voice raising.

“Even if I tell you everything, it wouldn't matter. I can't tell you why, but we do have to wait. I know it isn't easy—”

“No, no it's not easy. It's not easy because I lost people because of Thanos. Good people. It's not easy, because I have a heart.” Tony stopped pacing to glare at Stephen, one hand making a fist over the arc reactor in his chest.

Stephen’s shoulders were tensed again, arms crossed even tighter as he returned Tony's gaze. He was still hard to read, even like this. Maybe Tony had misunderstood him this whole time. Maybe he wasn't the person Tony thought he was.

“I thought you had one too.” With that last sentence, Tony turned and angrily walked to the door. He took the Cloak off his shoulders and pushed it behind him, ignoring the slight pang of guilt he felt as it hovered there for a moment, watching him go.

He didn't turn to see Stephen's expression as he left the Sanctum, feeling much worse than he had before.
———

Stephen watched Tony leave, trying to convince himself it didn't matter. He didn't need Tony, and Tony didn't need him. It doesn't matter what Tony thinks of him as long as five years from now, he still invents time travel and saves half the universe. Stephen's feelings are irrelevant.

The Cloak of Levitation still hovered by the door as if waiting for Tony to come back.

Stephen waited too, but he was gone.

His heart— or lack of one, according to Tony— ached inside his chest as he turned away, sitting down in one of the chairs near the fireplace.

Why couldn't Tony understand? He was smart, and he had a lot in common with Stephen. Yet he seemed to think Stephen was withholding information, not because he had to, but rather to be petty, or stubborn. Stephen had explained it all before, three times now, yet Tony refused to actually listen. He thought Tony had understood, was he so wrong?

It doesn't matter. Five years from now, the Avengers will go back in time and collect the Infinity Stones. Five years from now, half of the universe will return. His relationship with Tony— or lack of one— isn't relevant to any of that.

And he still has Wong. Wong will always be there, even if he doesn't understand or agree with everything Stephen does. Wong would never leave him like Tony did, simply because Stephen couldn't explain something.

But Wong was no Tony, and he never would be.

Stephen shook his head, pushing these thoughts away as he got up again, the Cloak settling back on his shoulders once more. He was the Sorcerer Supreme, and he had more important things to do than sit around moping. His emotions weren't important right now.
———

Days turned into weeks, and still Stephen hadn't seen Tony again after their argument. It didn't matter. They were hardly even friends in the first place. Of course it doesn't matter.

Stephen briefly considered walking through a portal to Tony, just to make sure he was okay, but he cast the thought aside immediately. He didn't need Tony. He didn't. And Tony had made it clear what he thought of Stephen, so that was that.

I̶t̶ ̶s̶t̶i̶l̶l̶ ̶h̶u̶r̶t̶ ̶s̶o̶m̶e̶t̶i̶m̶e̶s̶.̶

The Cloak was in a sour mood ever since Tony left. Sometimes it would wrap around Stephen's arm and attempt to drag him out of the Sanctum. Stephen was pretty sure he knew where it wanted to go, but he refused to give on. Other times he'd see it floating by the window, unmoving for long periods of time.

Stephen ignored it. It would get over Tony's departure eventually.

A̶n̶d̶ ̶s̶o̶ ̶w̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ ̶h̶e̶.̶

Stephen was in the process of drinking a nice cup of tea when he realized the Cloak was nowhere in sight. Frowning, he made a portal to the top of the Sanctum to check the window, but it wasn't there. He searched basically the whole Sanctum before stopping at the main entrance. Where had it flown off to?

Before he could consider what tracking spell to use, the Sanctum doors opened of their own accord (as they usually did) and the Cloak came hurling in. Stephen was just about to begin reprimanding it before another voice made him pause.

“Thanks for the magic carpet ride but I think I'm okay now— ah!”

Stephen ignored the ache in his heart due to the familiarity of that voice as the Cloak, with Tony cocooned in it (probably not of his own volition) floated above him.

He was beginning to feel a sense of deja vu and he couldn't figure out why. And then the Cloak rapidly unravelled itself, floating upwards as it dropped Tony.

Reacting on impulse, Stephen held out his arms, catching Tony before he could collide painfully with the ground. Due to this, Stephen was now holding Tony in a bridal carry position as they both awkwardly locked eyes.

“We have got to stop meeting like this, doc.” Tony recovered faster than he did, crossing his arms even in his compromising position and managing to look like this was all part of the plan.

The Cloak, once again pleased with itself, settled back around Stephen's shoulders.

Stephen spent an embarrassing amount of time trying to regain his composure and trying not to think about how absurdly light Tony was. And warm. And close. Was he seriously enjoying this? What was getting into him?

“I'm inclined to agree with you there,” Stephen conceded, finally collecting himself as he put Tony back down with perhaps more care than necessary.

Really looking at him, Stephen realized that Tony looked like shit. Not as bad as he had after just getting off the Benatar, but still. Dark circles lingered under his eyes, leading Stephen to wonder if he'd slept at all these past weeks, and he still looked frailer than he should; as if a light breeze could come through and knock him over.

“Tony, are you okay?” Stephen frowned, ignoring the impulse telling him to step closer.

Stephen had all but forgotten their past argument as he stared at the man in front of him, a ghost of his former self. The past months had gotten to everyone, but perhaps Stephen had underestimated just how big of an impact they truly had on Tony. He should've known better, witnessing the man's anxiety attack back in the compound. He should've done something.

“I'm fine.” Stephen tried not to react to the coldness in his tone. Right, of course. Maybe Stephen was willing to put the whole argument thing behind them, but Tony wasn't. Why was it so hard for him to understand?

“We both know that's bullshit.” Tony's head jerked up at the bluntness of his words, and Stephen continued. “I know you're unwilling to accept how things are, and maybe you're not ready to forgive me, but you can't keep going on like this. I can't tell you everything, and I know you disagree with that, but I can tell you that things can still get better,” he finished before falling silent.

He was just starting to think he said the wrong thing when Tony's shoulders finally slumped in defeat.

“I really hate it when you're right, doc. Save some wisdom for the rest of us, won't you?” Tony ran his hand through his hair again, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he considered his next words.

“I shouldn't have said the things I did, I understand that, but are you really telling me you can't share anything that can help us? I don't know what I'm supposed to do, doc.”

Stephen crossed his arms, silent for a moment before he responded.

“I can't tell you much, Tony. And I am sorry for it, however much that actually matters. If I could, I'd tell you everything I know about the possible futures, but it wouldn't help. It might even make things worse.”

Tony looked like he was about to argue before he just sighed. “I don't agree with you, but I don't want to fight anymore either— I don't think it's helping either of us,” he said at last, sounding almost tired.

Stephen just nodded in agreement, not having anything more to add.

“Well, I need to head back before Dum-E burns down the building,” Tony said at last, and Stephen couldn't help but relax a bit at the familiar tone that he took on.

“Come back any time.”

Stephen watched as Tony left, not sure what he should be feeling. At least the Cloak seemed happy again.
———

Tony did come back. Multiple times. Eventually, both of them exchanged numbers and they met for simple things such as coffee/tea. Their argument about the future slowly faded from mind, though Stephen could tell Tony was still displeased about the whole situation.

Stephen didn't think he could feel this close to anybody, and yet he found that the bond he had with Tony was unlike any he'd ever had before. It was odd, really— but comforting too.
———

𝗬𝗲𝗮𝗿 𝘁𝘄𝗼

Touch was a fairly simple thing. A hug from a family member reminded someone that they were loved, or acted as a simple means of comfort. A hand on one’s shoulder a gesture of warmth or familiarity.

Stephen had never thought about it before, but as he got closer to Tony, they also seemed to get closer physically. Sometimes while they were talking, Tony would rest a hand on his shoulder. Sometimes while they were sitting next to each other, their legs would brush ever so slightly, even by accident. Stephen didn't know how to react at first, but now he was warming up to the whole idea. Enjoying it actually, more than he probably should.

The Cloak used to wrap around him sometimes when he felt lonely. Other times it would wrap gently around his hands when they shook too much; yet he found that while he appreciated it, the Cloak’s touch couldn't compare to that of a human’s. More specifically, it couldn't compare to the warmth of Tony's touch.

He was currently standing in Tony's workshop, having portaled in to make sure the man wasn't overworking himself (again).

Tony was pacing back and forth, hands making random excited gestures as he explained his newest ideas for a suit. Stephen had no idea what he was talking about— he was a magic person, not a science one— but it was still nice to see him so excited about something.

Suddenly Tony stopped, turning to Stephen with a curious glint in his eyes. It was only then that Stephen realized he had been smiling. Not the small ones he sometimes had when he found something amusing, but a real genuine smile he hadn't felt in a long time.

As soon as he realized, he carefully dropped his expression back to neutral. What was wrong with him? What was this weird feeling in his chest?

And then he looked at Tony again, and their eyes met.

Oh.

𝘖𝘩.

Oh no.

“Doc, is everything alright? You're looking a little pale again. As a reliable person, I have to remind you I am not currently in my suit so you better not pass out.” Tony took a few steps towards him, holding his hands up as his eyebrows raised questioningly.

Stephen blinked, collecting himself once more. He didn't have time to dwell on such thoughts. It was dangerous. Remember Christine. Don't forget what you do to people you love.

“Fine. I just remembered something I need to do at the Sanctum,” he forced out at last, managing to hold a neutral tone.

It was a poor excuse, and he could see from the frown on Tony's face that he figured as much too.

“See you again soon?”

Stephen just nodded curtly in response before opening a portal back to the Sanctum. As soon as he was out of sight, he promptly sat down in one of the chairs by the fireplace before beginning to rethink his life decisions.
———

𝗬𝗲𝗮𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗲𝗲.

Tony had finished another project in his workshop, and found himself once more standing in front of the Sanctum. He had nothing better to do, and was worried if he didn't occupy himself his brain would go back to overthinking past unsavory events.

Stephen didn't greet him at the door like he normally did, so Tony decided to have a look around.

He promptly regretted this decision as he got lost in the Sanctum’s seemingly endless hallways and rooms. Honestly, he would not be surprised if Stephen told him the whole Sanctum was sentient too, just as the sorcerer's cloak is.

In one room, he found a beautiful golden box. It was a simple cube shape, with stunning engravings in a triangular pattern all along the exterior, resting on a cylindrical marble pedestal. All of his common sense told him he should absolutely not get near it, yet for some reason, he found his body instinctively walking towards it, transfixed. It seemed to shimmer in the dim lighting of the room with an eerie golden glow, which just made Tony want to touch it more.

Everything in the back of his brain screamed at him to get away from it, yet his feet moved of their own accord until he was standing right in front of it, eyes glued to it. He wasn't sure why, but he found that he absolutely had to know what was in the box.

It felt as if he was in a dream, watching from the back of his mind as he reached out to touch it, hands shaking as he gripped the pyramid shape of the lid, and tugged gently.

A faint purple glow emanated from the box, and he felt an odd tingling down his spine. Then he shook himself, finally snapping out of his trance-like state as he positioned the lid back onto the box. That was odd. He should definitely tell Stephen about this. Messing with magical artifacts was a bit no-no.

Turning, he walked out of the room again, finally finding his way back to the entrance room.

He waited there for a few moments before Stephen walked through a portal, seeming troubled before his eyes rested on Tony. The dark lines vanished from his face, and he immediately walked down the stairs to approach.

Tony had an odd feeling he had meant to ask Stephen about something, but he couldn't remember what. Well, it probably wasn't too important anyways. He'd worry about it later.

Then the two started talking, and Tony soon forgot all about it.
———

The nightmares were getting worse. Tony thought he had started recovering bit by bit over the months— years now— but now everything was spiralling again.

He used to have nightmares only once a week, sometimes once a month if he was lucky, but now they were coming back nearly every day. Every time he closed his eyes, he was back on Titan. He dozed off for a few moments, and he was watching everybody die, each time in a different way.

It was obvious Stephen was worried about him, but Tony always just brushed off his concerns with a quip, or simply told him he was fine. He should be fine, really.

But he wasn't.
———

𝗬𝗲𝗮𝗿 𝗳𝗼𝘂𝗿.

There was something wrong with Tony— something that went way beyond simple stress. Yet each time Stephen tried to ask about it, Tony always brushed him off, no matter how delicately he approached the subject.

He couldn't understand what had happened. Tony was getting better, he was recovering before. Then last year, something started to change. But what? Did Stephen do something? Was something major going on in Tony's life that he didn't know about?

It didn't make sense.

Each time Stephen saw him, he looked tired. Not the typical “I stayed up too late working on my tech” tired, but bone deep weariness. It was as though the man hadn't gotten a good night's sleep in weeks. Months, even.
———

Stephen Strange was the Sorcerer Supreme. Stephen Strange did not beg, not for his life, not for anything. He was above that.

“Tony, please. Just tell me what's wrong. Let me help you.”

Tony was always the exception for him.

Stephen had walked through a portal to Tony's workshop to check up on him again, only to find him looking worse than ever. There were major bags under his eyes, the clothes he wore basically hung off his unnervingly scrawny frame, and the color of his face was a shade of white that Stephen had only seen before in the hospital.

Tony turned towards him, ditching the scraps on his table as he glared at Stephen. He seemed like he was about to tell Stephen off again, but as he scanned Stephen’s face, his shoulders sagged.

“I don't know, Doc. It sounds like another excuse, but it's the truth. I can't sleep, and I can't stop thinking about everything we've lost. Everyone we've lost. You said that we can fix things, and I believe you, but I just…” Tony's voice trailed off and he simply shook his head.

A painful weight settled in Stephen’s heart. What could he do to make Tony feel better? He'd take all of the pain for his own if he could, but he knew that wasn't possible. For a moment, Stephen considered throwing caution to the wind and telling Tony everything about the future, telling him how everybody would be okay, and it was all because of him.

But even if he broke his rule of not talking about the future, it wouldn't matter. He still didn't know what would happen, because he hadn't seen any of this. There was nothing he could do to make it better. Tony would carry on being this hollow, pain filled shell of himself, and Stephen would carry on being powerless to save the man from himself.

“I'm sorry.” Tony's gaze snapped back to him as he spoke, and his tone wavered.

“If there's anything I can do…” He met Tony's eyes, and the other seemed to lighten up faintly.

“I'll tell you. I promise.”
———

Over the months, Tony became more and more distant. It started as him simply cancelling a plan, and progressed into him never visiting the Sanctum again. As time went on, he stopped reaching out to Stephen entirely, only responding to his worried texts in simple words.

Tony Stark was losing himself bit by bit, and Stephen couldn't help but feel like it was all his fault somehow.
———