imaginatus | endgame open post

[ When Steve glances from Tony's shrunken muscles to Bruce, there's only one thing he wants to know: is Tony going to okay?. Bruce nods, even without Steve saying anything, but he adds a caveat, half-whispering, half-mouthing it to Steve just so he knows: It's going to take time.

But the burns of battle are still fresh. Their wounds are still wide open. He knows already that Tony isn't going to want to spend time in recovery and Steve isn't sure he'd blame him.

Peter. The family they'd built, here, in this very compound. 50% of all creatures on Earth. All gone. Neither of them are going to accept that there's nothing left to do.

Tony speaks though and Steve can't help but immediately look back down. ]

I have a hard time imagining that. [ He says, before slipping one of Tony's hands into his own, before Bruce pushes the IV in. Steve gives it a squeeze, part distraction, part re-assurance. When he hears that question, Steve glances at the others before he answers, but he knows he isn't going to try and hide anything. ]

50 percent of all living creatures. Gone. [ He lets the confirmation of that sink in before he continues. ] There were accidents everywhere, but they stopped after two or three days. Governments across the world are trying to rebuild.

[ In his peripheral version, Steve catches Bruce signaling. When he looks up, Bruce says this loud enough for everyone to hear: Hey, Steve, I know we just got him back, but we gotta let him rest. He nods. It's probably Bruce's way of saying something in that IV will knock Tony out soon. ]

I'll be right here, you hear me? [ He pulls a chair up next to the bed, never letting go of Tony's hand. ] As soon as you wake up.

[ Tony shivers again, and he realizes that maybe it’s not just the fluids that’s causing it. The adrenaline is running out, and he’s literally running on fumes. He doesn’t quite suspect Bruce just yet, but mainly because he’s suddenly too self aware of the wound, the way they’ll see how the sword sliced right through him.

When Steve speaks and confirms what Thanos has done, he’s suddenly thankful he’s sitting down. He almost looks like he’s imploding but he’s doing his damnedest to not let go just yet even if he feels like he can’t stop shaking.

At Bruce’s suggestion that he should rest, Tony shakes his head slightly. ]

No. No, I’m—

[ What, okay? He knows he can’t possibly sound convincing. And then Steve speaks, assuring him that he’ll be there, and he hardly notices that Bruce is gently guiding him to lay down before securing the IV to his arm. As he looks at Steve, he looks at him as if to try to convince him he doesn’t need to do this. But, at the same time, what’s there to do? They lost. He lost Peter. Thanos won. What is there to do now? As the sedative slowly works its way through his system, his breathing turns shaky as his eyes fill with tears again. ]

I didn’t—... I tried to bring him back, Steve. I tried... [ He shakes his head slightly, as if fighting how his body feels like it’s shutting down. ]

I just want to bring him back.

[ The vision in front of him is heartbreaking.

The shake in Tony's voice. The tears filling his eyes. The tremble in his grip. The pain in his words. ]

I know Tony. I—...know.[ His own voice breaks for the first time since the dusting. And Steve has to forcibly pull air into his lungs to keep himself from choking. He can't let Tony fall unconscious to the sight of him falling apart.

And yet, this was the only proof he would've accepted. Peter's gone. Gone. ]

We'll bring him back, Tony. [ He hears himself saying the words, and he can't help but feel surprised at how strong he sounds, even if he feels anything but. He feels small, and useless, and desperate. ] We'll bring him back together.

[ It's only when Tony's eyes close that the sobbing begins. Within seconds, his head is hung. Another few seconds, and Steve finds himself burying his face into Tony's bedsheets and his tears start to seep into the fabric. He doesn't know how long he does this for, but it's long enough that most of the team leaves to give them their space — and find their place to grieve for Peter.

Bruce stays. If for no other reason than to make sure that Steve doesn't need a sedative too, though he isn't sure how much he'd need to use. He watches, too, as Steve's hand clutches Tony's the entire time, even if Bruce has to force him to relax once or twice, because Cap, you can't hold him that hard. ]

I know, I know. I'm sorry. I just- ... I can't lose them both.

You won't. Steve. Please. You gotta trust me.

[ The beauty of the sedative is that it helps him rest without the usual pesky nightmares that generally don't let him sleep for longer than a few hours at a time. His body and mind seem to finally be able to disconnect now, and Tony sleeps for almost eleven hours straight.

When it's time to wake up, he does so slowly, groggily. His head feels like it's filled with cotton, everything is muffled and distorted, and at first his eyes don't even focus on anything specific. It almost looks like he's even ready to fall back asleep, but slowly his vision focuses enough to realize where he's at. He knows this place. Its glass walls, the window to the small courtyard.

More importantly, he recognizes the man that is next to his bed. This man that is holding his hand, he realizes, based on the warmth he feels radiating from his hand as he holds his. Is this real? For a long time, Steve has been a part of his dreams. Mostly his nightmares in the last few years, though, and that is why he half expects him to look at him angrily how he usually does in those dreams. But...it doesn't happen. If anything, it's the exact opposite; those eyes don't reflect resentment, or anger toward him.

And that's when he remembers. He's home. He's actually home now, and unconsciously the hand that's in Steve's closes weakly as if he's finally holding his hand back. ]

...you're really here.

[ It's hard to tell if it's a question or a statement, but he manages to hold his gaze much easier than he had been able to do before passing out. Although the reactor is not surgically attached to him, it still clings to him in a way that it wouldn't have been easy to remove without it stinging, but he's glad for it now because he uses the weight of it and its coldness against him to remind himself that he's really awake. He's actually home.

Steve is actually home, too, and he isn't sure which one of those two is the most surprising fact. ]

[ In those eleven hours, Steve manages to sleep a little.

For the first hour, the grief over Peter is what's most overwhelming. So much so that Steve feels a little numb. It's still hard to imagine that this is reality and that he isn't about to wake up from some terrible dream.

Throughout the night, a couple of times, Steve wishes he could just lay down next to Tony in his hospital bed and hold him, but Steve knows that doing so would be more for his benefit than Tony's, and he decides to stay in his seat instead. Still, he thinks, Tony is here. And Steve stares at the way he's holding his hand — a hand that's smaller than it used to be, but still warm and alive and attached to Tony's beating heart — and that very real physical and visual presence brings Steve a comfort he hasn't felt in a long time.

Eventually, he falls asleep for about three hours, before he wakes up again in the morning. Bruce comes in at one point to tell him the types of nutrients they need to get into Tony's body, and how he shouldn't do much more than drink water and they won't give him any solid foods for a while. Steve mostly nods his way through it.

It isn't until Tony starts to stir, that some semblance of alertness returns to Steve's eyes. He feels the way those fingers curl softly around his and Steve's gaze follows their hands up to Tony's face. ]

So are you. [ Slowly, Steve lets himself smile again, even if it's just a little. ]

[ God, he has dreamt of this for so long that he can hardly believe it’s actually happening. After two years of being gone, Tony had assumed that Steve was never coming back. Not until he called him, according to his letter, but Tony’s pride and hurt had gotten in the way. Peter tried to never meddle, tried to just let his parents resolve their differences and all the pain they had inflicted on each other when the Accords and Barnes had screwed with their lives, but that day never came.

It feels unfair that now Steve is here, Peter isn’t here to see it. He knows he missed him, more than he ever let on, but Tony had known their son well. All he had wanted was for his parents to be together again, and the reminder that Peter isn’t here to welcome Steve back home feels like it twists his heart into a tight knot.

He tries to swallow the knot in his throat as he busies himself with pressing the button to make the bed move. Laying down makes him feel like he’s suffocating, and he just needs to sit up at least a little. ]

Are you here to stay, or are you just passing through?

[ It's a fair question, but it still hurts. And despite the fact that it's been two years, that question brings with it the deep truths that Steve's always known about Tony. How much it takes for him to trust someone. And how high his walls are, when he doesn't want to get hurt. With just that single question, it's as if Steve is watching those defenses building themselves up again right in front of him.

Not that he could blame Tony for it. Steve knows he was the one who left. Tony had tried every damned thing he could to keep them together, and Steve had fought him at nearly every turn.

And now Peter was gone.

Steve swallows too, even as he sits up a little straighter to stay with Tony's eye level. ]

I'm here to stay. Unless you don't want me to.

[ Steve’s not wrong; after two years, Tony’s walls have managed to find a way to slide up much faster than they used to. Especially when it came to him. The way he saw it, he had opened himself up to him in a way he never should have. Yes, he had gained Peter out of their time together and that alone couldn’t make him regret anything, but on the worst days he’d find himself hating the fact that he had ever let Steve close enough to hurt him like this.

Right now, the only thing that’s keeping Tony from flinging that hurt at Steve is the fact that he’s not cruel enough to ignore that Steve is also grieving their son. That, plus the guilt Tony feels at the fact that he’s here when Peter isn’t, that he couldn’t keep him alive, it’s the only reason he isn’t flat out shoving him out.

And, well, there’s a part of him that he can’t ignore. The one that, despite everything that happened, has missed him from day one. It’s the part of him that has wanted him to come home this whole time, and the part that’s making it hard to pull away from him altogether. ]

If you’re doing it for me, you don’t need to do me any favors. I’m sure I look as great as I feel, but I’ll be fine.

[ Steve knows he hurt him, and he knows exactly how much. He knows, because he remembers the work they'd both put into their marriage — to make each other feel safe in different ways. The vows he'd made and how much they'd meant to Tony. But more than anything, he remembers now, how during every moment of happiness they'd had together, Tony had never expected it to last and Steve had always promised him it would. ]

What if—

What if I'm doing it because I still love you.

[ It's a question, but Steve doesn't say it that way. He says it like there's no question about it at all. ]

[ Tony just stares at him at first, no expression on his face before his eyes narrow slightly as if he’s trying to make out if he heard him right. ]

You still love me?

[ His lips twist into a sort of humorless smile that looks hollow, especially against how gaunt his face is. ]

You left. For two years. And you’re sitting there—

[ He shakes his head, and tries to pull his hand away from Steve’s. ]

That’s funny. You pick some hilarious timing for this.

[ There's some resistance when Tony first tries to pull away, but not enough to keep Tony's hand in place. Steve knows how weak Tony's body is right now. He's not here to try to force anything.

The whole time though, Steve's expression doesn't really change. Whatever it is that Tony's feeling, Steve feels ... responsible for it in many ways. He doesn't plan on fighting. He doesn't have a right to. ]

Do you ... still love me?

[ And with that question, Steve sounds so much less sure, and he knows it's not exactly fair for him to even ask. But in a way, Steve needs to know. Even if he half expects Tony to just push him out, right then and there. ]

[ He wants to say yes. He wants to spit back at him that he doesn’t care if he still loves him, because that ship sailed when he left. He wants to tell him to go away. He wants to tell him to stay away, since he’s so fucking good at doing so and no one is left that needs him, anyway.

But, for all his anger and all his hurt that Tony still feels burning in his chest, there’s still a part of him that loves him. He can’t help it. Steve had gotten under his skin years ago, it had been why marrying him had been a no brainer. It had been why Tony had even considered the idea of adopting a child together. It had been why Tony was left so heartbroken after Steve left, because it had been supposed to be forever and like an idiot he had believed it. And, like an even bigger idiot, his heart just wouldn’t let go no matter how much he tried. And god, did he try to let go, but for what?

Apparently the answer is here, with Steve sitting there, telling him he still loves him. His question about whether or not he still loves him disarms him in a way he doesn’t expect, and even if he wants to lie, it’s like he falters altogether.

Finally: ]

Does it matter? Am I supposed to just welcome you back, like nothing happened? Like you didn’t just leave?

We were your family. Us, we were your family. And you left. [ He sounds winded, and his voice cracks a little, but he continues anyway. ]

‘Together,’ right? Isn’t that what you promised? You forgot the clause that mentioned that together was conditional, liar.

[ Steve watches the way Tony processes everything by looking at his eyes. Those big, brown, beautiful eyes that are looking at Steve like he loves and hates him more than anything else in the world right now. He watches the way Tony says nothing, but clearly has something to say, until finally, it all comes out.

Steve doesn't say anything for a long time.

Normally, he's uninhibited, saying whatever comes to mind first because he can always trust his gut to do what's right. But right now, he stops himself from answering any of Tony's questions literally. He wants to make sure what he says answers how much he's hurt Tony for these past two years, and it helps, just a little, that he had all night to imagine what this conversation might be like when Tony woke up.

In the end, the silence itself lasts less than 30 seconds, but it still feels like an eternity. When Steve talks, there's the sound of deep and terrible guilt in the back of his voice, even if he's doing a pretty good job trying to make sure it doesn't take over. ]

Tony. I'm so sorry I wasn't there.

I wasn't there when you and Peter both needed me. I should've been.

[ It doesn't matter to Steve anymore what he had been doing, because this kind of thing isn't rational. When Tony and Peter were up in space, Steve and the rest of the Avengers had been protecting Vision. Fighting Thano's army. It's important — world-endingly so. But even now, Steve has imagined hundreds of scenarios where he should've found a way, even if some of them are literally impossible. He should've split himself in two if he needed to — he should've been there for his family. ]

I'm not asking for forgiveness. No amount of it could bring Pete back. I know that. I just—

You're right Tony. I left. I broke our vows. But I can't— [ The word can't comes out scratchy, like a whisper, and Steve finds himself closing his now unoccupied hand into a fist as he pushes the emotion in his throat back down. ] I can't lose you too Tony. I can't not be there again.

[ Given the gravity with which Steve's speaking now, there's a sense that he isn't talking about their relationship. He's talking about Tony's life. ]

[ Although the room is silent for those thirty seconds before Steve speaks again, for Tony it’s as if he can hear the way his blood feels as if it’s boiling in his veins. It’s as if it’s roaring, loud and angry and it makes his heart feel like it twists in his chest once more.

When Steve apologizes, Tony looks away as he shakes his head slightly. It makes him dizzy, and it’s hard to tell if it’s the movement, or how weak he is, or just how angry he is, but he swallows back the sensation anyway.

By the time Steve finishes speaking, Tony’s mainly looking away because he can’t quite push back the angry tears that are blurring his vision. He has been heartbroken for two years now, but of course it’s not until now that the tears finally come. He hates himself that it’s now, in front of Steve. ]

You’re late. You’re about two years too late.

[ He doesn’t sound angry anymore, the conviction to sound convincing gone from his voice. If anything, he just sounds deflated. Defeated. ]

[ When he sees those tears, it feels like a stab in his chest, and Steve is surprised that tears aren't showing up in his own eyes. They're waiting, just beneath the surface, but they haven't made their way out yet.

Instead, when Tony says he's too late, Steve stares at him for two seconds, with a determined kind of sadness in his eyes and the lines on his forehead. Silently and gradually, Steve stands, but he makes no motion to leave. Instead, he takes a breath before putting a hand on the metal handles on the side of the bed — and slowly leans forward.

Part of him expects Tony to hit him before he can get too far, he's certainly going slow enough for Tony to be able to.

But if he doesn't — and in some cases, even if he does — Steve's temple will gradually make its way next to Tony's, just as his nose gently presses against Tony's ear. ]

I'm so sorry Tony. [ He whispers, as he closes his eyes. ]

[ Tony expects him to leave - not just now, but in general, and he’s convincing himself that it would be better. He’s used to his absence now. He doesn’t need him, he tells himself. It’s better if he goes.

But then he’s leaning in, and Tony’s too surprised at first to react. It’s not until Steve is close and he feels the warmth his body is emitting that he realizes how cold he is despite the heated blankets, and it feels like he’s getting lost in that familiar warmth all over again.

Still, he reminds himself, this isn’t real. Not in the way it matters. Steve could be gone later, or tomorrow, or next week, and no. He can’t do this again.

Tony doesn’t hit him, but he does try to push him away. There’s hardly any strength behind the motion, and it’s hard to tell if it’s because how weak his body is or if it’s because he actually wants this. ]

I can’t do this, Steve. I can’t do this again, I can’t handle this...whatever our relationship turned out to be twice.

[ The two of them have always had something special when it came to physical touch, and how easy it is to get lost in each other. The right touch or rake or stroke has always been enough to transport them somewhere private — a place only the two of them can go, together, and it's something Steve's desperately missed himself. In a world in which they're always ready for battle, Tony had been his only true place of comfort and escape.

Even now, after two entire years, Steve can feel the way Tony responds. It answers the question he asked earlier in another way. When Tony's hand tries to push him away, Steve's free hand moves up to cradle it against his chest. ]

I could promise you it won't happen again— [ His voice is hushed as he feels the way Tony's skin warms to his, and Steve can't help but plant a gentle kiss on his cheek. ] —but I can't ask you to believe me.

[ And as much as Steve doesn't want to pull away, the way both their bodies are reacting to this is starting to feel unfair. Steve isn't here to seduce Tony to say yes again. So, reluctantly, like this might be the last time he'll be able to feel Tony like this again, he lifts his head. It's just enough to stay close, but not so close that they're touching. ]

Do you still love me, Tony? [ He asks it again. But this time, as he searches Tony's eyes, there's more he wants to say. ] It's a lot to ask. But if you still do, let me stay. Let me come home and be the husband I should've been two years ago.

[ He can’t help it, the kiss makes him cringe. It hurts, all this just hurts and for a moment it feels like he can’t even catch his breath properly. ]

You’re right. It is a lot to ask.

[ His voice is low, quiet as he lets his head sink back into the pillow. He huffs out a breath that’s supposed to be a sort of dry chuckle but it gets stuck in his throat. ]

If I didn’t, don’t you think I would have already kicked you out? [ He hates himself more than he hates Steve for it, but it’s the truth. And right now he doesn’t have the strength to come up with a lie. ]

...but I don’t believe you. I don’t believe you’ll stay, or that this will last.

[ For the first time during their conversation, Steve's muscles stiffen a little. He isn't used to that physical reaction, and maybe he was stupid for thinking Tony would react the way he did before.

It even makes Tony's admission, that yeah, he would've kicked him out by now if he didn't love him, harder to hear. Steve sets Tony's hand back down then, retreating from contact entirely. ]

What ... do you think I'll do? Stay a couple months, then leave again?

[ If Tony didn’t already know that he still loves Steve, he’d realize it when he finds himself missing his touch. The moment his hand is down, he feels as if he’s freezing again and he can’t quite hide the shiver that runs down his spine. ]

A day, a week, a month. I don’t know. All I know is that it wouldn’t surprise me.

[ If Steve had any doubts of how much he wants Tony back, he realizes it when he sees that shiver and slowly, hesitantly, he takes hold of Tony's hand again.

When he speaks, the effects of his stiffening are gone. His voice has a little hope in it. ]

You're saying then ... that the only way you'd be surprised, is seeing me, still here, when we're both dying of old age?

[ Tony breathes out another choked chuckle, almost in disbelief. For what it's worth, though, he doesn't pull his hand back from Steve's grasp as he finally turns to him. The tears have stopped but he still feels them burning in his eyes. ]

Yeah. Why, is that what you're going to do? That's how you'll convince me?

I guess ... [ Steve's eyes wander from their hands back up to Tony's eyes. ]... you'll just have to wait and find out.

[ After a second, he lets go of his right hand's grip on the metal bar, and moves to palm Tony's cheek in his hand, to wipe the streaks of tears off his face. But when his hand is just a few inches away, Steve hesitates. Tears are finally starting to form in his own eyes and his hand closes into itself instead, shaky, before it finds its way back to the side of the bed. ]

[ He’s still not quite sold, and it shows. He can’t let himself believe that it’s true, because it’s like reopening himself up for disappointment. After losing already doing it once, and now losing Peter... it’s almost self preservation more than anything else.

But he’s still not pushing or pulling away, and he doesn’t move away when Steve’s hand is by his face. He just stays quiet, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. Because, in some ways, that’s the tension he’s feeling, like something’s going to shatter and all this will end.

After a moment: ]

I don’t know how long you’ve been back for, but your stuff is all still here. [ Again, he’s ashamed to admit it. Because it’s just more proof that he never moved on, that he couldn’t let go, but it’s not like he can go around hiding the proof now. Their room in the compound is still as Steve left it, for better or for worse. Tony never set foot back in there after that day where it all changed. ]

In case...you need anything.

[ Some of the emotion in his eyes turn to surprise when Tony says his stuff is all here. He'd been at the compound for long enough now that he knows it is, but he'd always assumed that it was because of Peter. Sometimes, on their calls, Pete would like to do it from Steve and Tony's old room together. But with the way Tony's talking ... Steve realizes there might have been another explanation.

After a second, Steve nods and breathes in as he tries to regain some composure. He shouldn't let his mind stray and overinterpret. ]

Would you rather that I stay somewhere else, for a while?

[ Because the other way to understand what Tony said — the more painful way — is that all his stuff is there in case he needs to take some of it. And that Tony isn't comfortable with him living here, just yet. ]

endgame open post

tony 😭

sob this thread

it hurts so much

omg steve ;-;

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you should definitely feel free to have tony hit him

/cries

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