As Tony stood over Steve and Loki, he couldn't help but feel his heart twist. The god lay prone and bloody on the ground, fallen in the heat of battle, and the Captain, his leader and lover, now mourned him.
Tony turned at a sound in the distance and he saw the enemy approaching quickly, eager to catch them unawares. Steely determination settled into his features and he turned back to his friend.
"Cap." He saw Steve twitch at the name. "We've got to go."
"We can't," came the broken reply, and Tony fought down his despair.
"We have to." He stepped forward and laid a red-gold hand on Steve's shoulder, careful not to tighten his fingers. "They're going to try to flank us and they'll succeed if we don't get out of here. Now."
"But what about his body?"
"He's dead." He didn't mean to sound so cold, so unforgiving, but it was the truth. "They won't bother him. Leave him and we'll come back later. I promise." He swallowed around the lump in his throat. "And we'll give him a funeral deserving of any god. But for now, you have to forget him. You have to mourn later. Otherwise, we'll die."
Steve's shoulders moved with silent sobs and Tony shut his eyes to keep his own tears back. A second later, he'd composed himself, and e cast a worried glance over his shoulder, heart skipping a beat when he saw that the enemy was even closer.
"Come on, Cap. You'll have your peace when this is over." He shook his friend's shoulder but the blond man didn't move. "Come on. Let's go. Steve, let's go. Steve." When the Captain looked up at him with glossy eyes, he swore he felt his heart split in half, but he pushed everything down and buried it all under solid tenacity.
"Come on," he said again, faceplate snapping down. "We've got work to do."