Archive of Our Own ^beta

The raucous noise of the party echoed in Stephen’s ears, the cheers of the crowd tempting him to let his temper flare. He’d meant to be home earlier, but he’d been held up at the hospital—life, he’d been frustrated to realize, required that he go on, even when he wanted everything to just pause, just for a moment. If he’d realized what was happening at home… well, he’d still have been held up, because life never cared, so Stephen didn’t let himself entertain the thought. And he was here now. Hopefully, he wasn’t too late, though he wasn’t sure what ‘too late’ would entail, when right now was already a disaster. What the hell was Tony thinking?

From where Stephen stood, Tony wasn’t thinking. Common sense had apparently vacated the building right along side rationality. Stephen fought through the crowd, using his elbows when necessary with no concern about being rude. A few people glared at him, but most of them were too drunk to really notice.

He made it to the front of the crowd, getting his first sight of Tony. Tony was in the Iron Man suit, a bottle of alcohol in his hand, head tipped back as he drank straight from the bottle. Stephen took one moment to note that it was Tony’s cheaper whiskey. Stephen supposed it might be considered a good thing that Tony wasn’t wasting the good whiskey on what looked like an attempt to get black out drunk.

If only that was all Tony was doing. Stephen could have dealt with that.

He wouldn’t have liked it, but he could have dealt with it. God knew he understood Tony was struggling—Stephen was struggling, denial and grief and loss ripping him apart—he knew the palladium made Tony feel like he’d lost all control. Of his mind, of his body, of his life. So, Stephen didn’t like it, but he understood why and how Tony had hit the point that getting black out drunk was the preferable option. But the fact that Tony was getting drunk in the Iron Man suit… well, that was a different situation altogether.

A woman ran in, lugging a watermelon with her—and where had she gotten that? Tony laughed, the arc on his chest already lighting up for a shot. “I think she wants the gallagher!”

Stephen took a deep breath—Tony was drunk; this was reckless—and stepped in between Tony and the woman.

Tony froze, the unibeam charge fading. Relief had the tension in Stephen’s shoulders easing. He trusted Tony implicitly. Knew Tony would never intentionally hurt him, would never even risk him. But there was a part of Stephen that could never be fully at ease when alcohol was involved to this extent. Someone let out a loud boo, and several people called for him to get out of the way and let them get back to their entertainment.

Stephen didn’t move, locking eyes with Tony. Tony looked away first. “You’re ruining the party,” Tony complained. “Come on, Stephen. Let her throw the watermelon.”

“Tony, get out of the suit,” Stephen said, keeping his voice entirely composed, refusing to let his anger or frustration show.

Tony threw back another swig of alcohol. “No thanks, I’m good here.”

Stephen took a step forward. “Tony,” he repeated. “You are drunk.”

Tony sighed as though hard done by. “Yeah, Pepper said the same thing. Don’t see what the problem is. It’s my birthday.”

Stephen could read the unsaid words easily. The message only Stephen could understand. This was going to be Tony’s last birthday, and a grand hurrah was all Tony had left. Except Stephen knew Tony, surely this wasn’t how Tony actually wanted to spend it?

A stir behind him caught his attention, but he didn’t turn to look. Rhodey’s voice cut through the crowd, sharp and demanding—full military. “I’m only gonna say this once. Get out.”

The sound of people rushing to obey set Stephen on edge. Because even in full military mode, a sharp tone, no matter how authoritative, wouldn’t be enough to disperse this particular group of people. Not as drunk as they all were. He turned.

Fury flashed through him, anger heating in his chest at the sight of Rhodey in one of Tony’s suits.

Rhodey took several steps forward, gaze locked on Tony, completely ignoring Stephen’s presence. “You don’t deserve to wear one of these,” he said, condescension seeping through even with the modulator, only adding fire to Stephen’s anger. Tony didn’t deserve that suit? If Tony didn’t, no one did. “Shut it down!”

Tony turned towards the DJ, currently hiding behind his setup. “Goldstein.”

Goldstein peeked over the top of the electronic panel. “Yes, Mr. Stark?”

There was a laugh in Tony’s voice, drunk and careless, that Stephen hated. “Give me a phat beat to beat my buddy’s ass—”

Another, larger bout of anger flared in Stephen’s chest and he took three steps forward, cutting Tony off. “You promised me,” he said, voice low. Because in their eight years together, Stephen had only asked for two things from Tony, but this… this was the biggest one. “You swore to me.”

Tony froze, eyes widening. ”Stephen—“

Rhodey moved in from behind, arms coming up to grab Tony. Stephen sent him his darkest glare. “Hold it,” he ordered, channeling every inch of control he had. “What you’re doing is called escalation, and it’s the sort of idiocy I wouldn’t expect to see in someone as intelligent as you.”

He didn’t wait to see Rhodey’s reaction, focusing back on Tony. “You swore to me, Tony. Now get out of that suit.”

Tony didn’t move, a confused sort of conflict in his eyes.

“I’m not them.”

Stephen arched an eyebrow. He knew Tony was struggling, but this was a line Stephen could not let Tony cross. “Were you or were you not about to get violent while drunk.” The words came out vicious, and he knew it. Tony’s relationship with alcohol had never made Stephen happy, but Tony had kept it under control. Had done enough that Stephen could still trust him. This wasn’t control.

This was the sort of behavior that had terrified Stephen growing up—that he knew had terrified Tony in its own way.

The room was entirely silent, Rhodey still stood behind Tony, clearly ready to escalate despite what Stephen had said—and Rhodey was a Lieutenant Colonel, he really should know better—while Tony just stared at Stephen with that confused conflict in his eyes.

“Tony,” Stephen said again, this time he softened his voice. “You’re not this person.”

Tony closed his eyes, and his shoulders slumped. “Stephen.” His voice ached with hopelessness. “I… I need—”

Stephen closed the space between them. “I know,” he acknowledged. The suit, the palladium, it was all killing Tony—even if no one but the two of them knew that—and Tony just wanted to control how and when. Stephen hated it. He wanted to have Tony as long as he could get him, hated the way Tony was quite literally flying recklessly towards death. But he didn’t know what words—if they existed—would make Tony stop, and they had too little time left together for Stephen to spend it angry and arguing. But this… “Please, Tony. Don’t leave me with this memory.”

A ragged breath escaped Tony. After a moment, he nodded. “All right.” He glanced towards the back of the house where the lab was, before taking a careful step in that direction, seemingly having forgotten Rhodey was even there, presenting himself as a threat and opponent. “Come with me?”

Stephen nodded, sending a glare at Rhodey who seemed a little lost at the drastic change in circumstance and Tony’s sudden easy acquiescence. Stephen followed Tony down to the lab, leaving Rhodey to figure out what to do with himself.

“JARVIS,” Stephen said quietly once they reached the lab. “Clear out the house, would you?”

“Of course, Doctor.”

Tony looked up at him for a moment, then nodded, before focusing on the suit. He was slow as he started taking off the armor and Stephen moved over to help, watching Tony carefully. It felt quiet and intimate. Tony had once shown Stephen every piece and part of these suits, first with excitement and wonder and then as the suit had evolved and Tony’s health deteriorated, the demonstrations had come with a strange desperation. Sharing this moment, now… It made Stephen ache. Their lives together were slipping through his fingers, escaping him. Stephen couldn’t bear thinking about the moment when they ran out entirely.

“How much longer do you have?” Stephen asked, even as he mentally did the math himself. Every time Tony got in the suit he accelerated the spread of the palladium, he stole a little more time that they could have had together. A part of Stephen wanted to be angry with Tony for that. Wanted to rage.

But he knew the echoes of loss too intimately to let their last days be tainted that way.

“A week,” Tony said after a moment. “Maybe two.” He closed his eyes. “I planned a few more hours in the suit. Expected that fight with Rhodey to actually happen.” He looked up, apology in his eyes. “I hadn’t… I hadn’t thought of what that meant. I hadn’t meant to break that promise.”

Stephen just nodded. Tony had stopped. Tony had listened. With that, Stephen could forgive the rest of it.

“The extra exertion would have taken a few more days off,” Tony finished. “I thought my birthday…”

“As good a way as any to go,” Stephen acknowledged, even if he didn’t mean it. “But Tony…” He closed his eyes. “Please. I know you’re ready to go… But I’m not ready to lose you. I haven’t said anything, but… but please, give me this week. Give me you.”

Tony stared at him, loss and confusion and a bleak sort of hopelessness in his eyes. “You haven’t asked for that, before,” Tony said. “I thought…”

A ragged laugh escaped Stephen. “I thought it should go without saying what I wanted. But, Tony… I didn’t want to dictate how your life… how you’d leave. I just hoped you’d choose…”

“We’re a mess,” Tony said, his own laugh ragged. “I wanted you to ask… I thought…”

Stephen was going to blame it on the palladium that Tony had even considered that Stephen wanted anything less than everything from Tony. Stephen had as good as already promised to share his life with Tony and that was before they’d known Tony was dying. That that was even in question… they really were such a mess, the grief and fear mixing them both up until everything was tangled and confused. “Well, I’m asking. Give me your final days. Let them be mine. Let me have this last thing of you to hold onto.”

“They’re yours,” Tony said, the words a promise. “They’re yours, Stephen.”

Stephen reached out, pulled Tony close and kissed him. Tears burned behind his eyelids, and he pushed them back. He would have time to grieve later, for now he just wanted to love Tony, to take in every moment he had left.

Tony kissed him back, a fervent desperation beneath it. “I love you,” Tony whispered when he pulled away. “I don’t want to leave you.”

Stephen swallowed back the grief. “For tonight… for tonight let’s pretend you don’t have to,” he said. He’d never been very good at playing pretend, but just this once, he was going to figure out how to do just that. He looked up. “JARVIS, are we clear?”

“Yes, Doctor. The mansion has been cleared out. Though it would not be amiss for a cleaning party to come through tomorrow morning.”

Tony laughed a little, almost genuine. “Yeah, no surprise it’s a bit of a mess.” He paused. “Did Rhodey…”

“I am sorry, Sir,” JARVIS said. “But the Colonel has left with the suit.”

Anger stirred in Stephen’s chest again, but Tony just nodded, his expression one of quiet resignation. “I knew he would.” He looked at Stephen. “It was part of the plan, you know. Don’t give him too hard of a time… after.”

Stephen swallowed back his thoughts on that. “You should really run your plans past a less heavy-metal-poisoned brain,” he said instead, keeping his voice light. “Mine, to be specific. Your plans really aren’t at their best and brightest right now.”

“Thought we were pretending I’m not dying,” Tony teased. “I think that means you need to give me a pass on the worst of my plans.”

“Well, it’s either blaming the palladium, or I call you an idiot,” Stephen poked back, even if amusement still felt far distant. He took Tony’s hand, pulling him away from his discarded suit. “Now, I love your lab, but it doesn’t quite have the ambience I’m looking for tonight.” And if they were in the lab, then Tony’s mind would turn to the suit, to the palladium, to all of those things Stephen didn’t want to think about, not tonight.

Tony let Stephen pull him out of the lab, up the stairs and to the living room. Stephen paused there. JARVIS was right, they needed to get this place cleaned, because this hardly provided the right atmosphere, either. This only brought to mind how close Tony was to the ledge.

“Hey,” Tony said, clearly understanding exactly where Stephen’s thoughts had gone. “I have an idea. I want to take you out, tonight. Let me spoil you.”

A wave of relief washed over Stephen, because Tony was playing along, because they could avoid all the signs around them of their world falling apart, because… because he just wanted one more date, one more night.

He would always want just one more night.

“Where to?” Stephen asked, pushing that thought away.

Tony smiled at him. “I just happen to know this 24/7 donut place,” he said, a teasing note in his voice. “One that just so happens to be close by and that, by chance, has a few very good memories associated with it.” He shifted closer to Stephen, voice lowering as though telling a secret. “You know, I took the love of my life there for our first date.”

Love and grief battled out in his chest for a moment. Stephen focused on the love and let himself smile. “Funny. The love of my life just so happened to take me to a donut place on our very first date. What a coincidence.” He headed back down the stairs to the garage. “But you’re an idiot if you think I’m letting you drive. The last time you got behind the wheel of a car you destroyed the car.”

“Technically the guy with the whips destroyed the car,” Tony muttered. “That shouldn’t be blamed on me.”

Stephen ignored that—Tony had heavy metal poisoning and had been drinking all night, which was the real reason Stephen wasn’t letting him behind the wheel of the car, but they weren’t drawing attention to that, the destroyed car was a better excuse—grabbing the keys for the Audi. He held the door to the car open for Tony, like the proper gentleman that neither of them could really claim to be, before sliding into the driver’s seat.

They drove mostly in silence, only music on low in the background. He could feel Tony’s gaze on him, a heavy, warm weight. He glanced over occasionally, taking in the sight of Tony framed by the window, with shadows from the city lights flickering over his face. Tony’s own face was mostly in shadow, but Stephen could still see love in his eyes.

Tony was the one to break the silence. “I don’t have to be,” he said.

Stephen glanced over, confused at the nonsensical start to the conversation. “Don’t have to be what?”

“The love of your life,” Tony said, voice quiet. “Or at least not the only one. Once I’m gone, once you’ve grieved, you can find—”

Stephen couldn’t let Tony finish that sentence. “Tony, not tonight. We can’t…” Stephen took a deep breath. “We can’t talk about this tonight. I can’t.”

Tony was quiet for a second. “All right,” he said. “Not tonight.”

Not ever, if Stephen had his way. But this was one time when he suspected he wouldn’t be getting his way. Tony would want to take care of him, give Stephen that peace, that freedom before Tony was gone, no matter how little Stephen wanted it. Right now he couldn’t even conceive of a life with anyone else, much less handle Tony telling him to find someone.

The donut shop was empty when they got there. Not entirely a surprise at 1:00 in the morning. The cashier was on their phone behind the counter, and he handed over their donuts after they paid with the disinterest of a sleep-deprived employee who wasn’t paid enough.

Tony led them to one of the booths in the back, the same table they’d sat at eight years ago. “You know, eight years ago, I didn’t think you’d let me take you on that second date,” Tony said as they sat down, nestling together where the booth curved. “I couldn’t read you in the slightest. I mean, you were definitely attracted to me, but you also had this wrinkle—” He shifted slightly so that he could press his thumb against Stephen’s forehead, brushing Stephen’s skin with a gentle caress as though smoothing out said wrinkle. “—right here, as though you couldn’t quite decide if you were interested.”

Stephen laughed. “You already know I agreed to that first date because one of my fellow residents bet me I couldn’t resist your seductions. That ‘wrinkle’ was a sign that I couldn’t believe I was interested. I kept trying to talk myself out of it.” He shook his head. “I still can’t believe Jensen was right.” He paused, pretending to consider the situation. “But for once, I think being wrong worked out for me.” Of course, Jensen had thought Stephen couldn’t resist the sex—and the sex had been very, very good—but in truth, Stephen hadn’t been able to resist Tony’s mind. And then later, when Tony had started to bring down his walls, Stephen had fallen just as hard for his heart, soft and vulnerable and so very large.

Not that anyone would ever believe Stephen if he said as much, and not that Stephen would ever expose Tony, no matter how often Stephen wished people could see Tony the way Stephen saw him. But they never would. And now they’d never have the chance.

For a moment his heart seized, thoughts of what was coming attempting to intrude. He caught Tony’s hand next to him, ignoring the powdered sugar from the donut that stuck to Tony’s fingers.

“Would it be weird if I gave Jensen a car in my will?” Tony asked, tone musing. “I mean, he’s to credit for you giving me a chance; think about it, he should get something, since he’s the reason I got you.” His smile softened. “And you’re one of the best things that ever happened to me.”

A laugh escaped Stephen, entirely unexpected given the situation and the subject matter surrounding the question. “Just as long as you don’t will him the Lambo.” He paused, considering the other cars. “Or the Cobra. Or the Audi Spyder. Actually, not any of the Audis. I like those. Or—”

Tony laughed, bright and clear and it felt like a victory. “All right, all right. I’m gonna stop you before you list all of my cars. Clearly they’re off limits. So fine, I won’t will Jensen a car. He’d probably fail to appreciate it, anyways.” He smiled at Stephen, soft and warm. “Maybe I’ll just make a generous donation to the hospital in his name. That’ll baffle him.”

“It’ll baffle everyone,” Stephen said. “But I suppose that’s more tolerable than you giving away any of my cars.”

“Not even dead, yet, and you’re claiming my cars,” Tony teased. Some of Stephen’s amusement faded, but Tony nudged him. “Hey, none of that. You know what’s mine is yours, right? That was already true, all being dead will do is make it legal. If it weren’t for the fact that the US government is unbearably homophobic it already would be legal.”

The words had warmth spreading through his chest, that quiet acknowledgment of what they might have been. It was almost enough for Stephen to shrug away the grief, even if he could feel it lurking just behind him, a shadow over their late night—early morning, really—donuts. “You’re mine,” Stephen said. “Your worldly possessions are just an unintended side effect.”

Tony’s smile was brilliant. “I’m always going to be yours.” The words were a fervent promise. “Even when I’m just a memory.”

Stephen had to look away and they fell quiet, both focusing on their donuts for a minute before Tony changed the subject, talking about some of the displays he’d seen at the Stark Expo, a longing in his voice as he talked about how they were going to change the world. Waxing almost poetic at the brilliant young minds that were taking their first step into the spotlight. Stephen listened to him, an ache in his chest that Tony wouldn’t see any of this. But no, no, Tony was a futurist, maybe the rest of the world couldn’t see, yet, the incredible things coming, but Tony could.

And maybe there wasn’t much Stephen could do to make sure that Tony’s dream became reality, but he would do what he could. Anything, everything, he could. He’d make this world beautiful in Tony’s honor. He had to.

But for now he just listened, soaked in Tony’s love and joy and hope.

Their first date here in the donut shop had kept them in this booth until dawn had come, arguing and debating and teasing. That night had changed Stephen’s life, even if he hadn’t known it, yet. So it felt right, then, when early morning light started to filter through the windows just as it had eight years ago. Tony’s hand was still in his, even if their donuts were long gone, and they just talked. They might only have a week left—it would never be enough—but Stephen clung to it with both hands while he still had it. While he still had Tony.

The door opening caught his attention—it’d been at least two hours since the last customer had come and gone—and Stephen glanced automatically in the direction of the newest customers. He blinked and looked again, his thoughts stopping in their tracks. A man in a trenchcoat had walked in, with Natalie—what in the world was Tony’s new PA doing here, wearing a black bodysuit fit for a fight?—a step behind him.

Tony looked over a second later, words trailing off and brow furrowing.

The man stopped in front of their table, a calculating look in his one visible eye, the other covered by an eyepatch. He cut an intimidating figure. “Well, Stark, I think it’s about time we talked.”