Future Proofing

by Rasial

Infinity Wars AU. Just as Thanos' troops attack Earth, and Pepper is killed, Dr Strange whisks Tony Stark and Bruce Banner into a pocket universe, where they can plan their D-Day. But Strange and Stark have very different ideas about how the future should play out...

"Tony Stark? I'm Doctor Stephen Strange. I need you to come with me. Oh, congratulations on the wedding by the way." The floating man nodded to Pepper Potts.

Tony frowned. "Are you giving out tickets to something?"

Stephen ignored the slight. "We need your help. Look, it's not overstating it to say the fate of the universe is at stake."

Tony looked him up and down. "And who's we?"

"Hey Tony."

It was the only one of the Avengers that Tony truly liked.

"Bruce?!" He came forward and hugged his old friend. "Where have you been?"

Bruce squinted and made a face somewhere between a smile and a grimace. "In space."

Tony gave a sage nod. "Explains why you didn't answer my texts...out of range." He sighed abruptly and turned to Pepper. "This looks like it might be a thing." He tapped the glowing inverted triangle on his chest. "A potential monsters-in-the-closet thing..."

Strange hovered and watched the conversation bounce back and forth like he was at a tennis match. How often had these people seen sorcerers open portals in front of them to make them this blasé?

"Perhaps we could move this reunion to a more strategic location?" He hesitated. "Thanos is on his way here. Now."

All three looked up, remembering that Strange was present.

"Right. Tony — this guy's the real deal. Genocidal warlord, crushing one planet at a time sorta deal. He was behind New York—"

A fork of blue lightning arced and landed beside them, sending them flying. Stephen was knocked backwards through the portal.

"Pepper!" Tony yelled. Stephen reappeared just in time to glean the significant facts — Iron Man was suiting up, about to launch himself at an alien with a grey, beak-like face. That alien had magic. And beside a split tree trunk, Pepper Potts was lying dead and blackened on the ground.

Stephen's cloak detached and flung itself at Tony's face, distracting him. Meanwhile, he opened the eye of Agamotto.

There was an emerald flash of light.

Xxxxxxxxxx

"Ugh...where the hell are we?" Bruce groaned as he sat up. He was sort of used to waking up in places that were unfamiliar, but each time it gave him a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"Pocket universe." Strange gave a brief, humourless smile. "Or, more accurately, a bound moment from an alternate timeline derived from a temporal anomaly."

"From an alternate outcome in string theory?" Bruce stood up and touched the grey walls of their universe. They seemed hewn in stone, quite permanent — the rooms were like a library, or a study, with wooden-railed mezzanines.

Stephen's smile this time was more broad and genuine. "Exactly like that. Bends a few laws of nature, but I plucked this version of London's Sanctum Sanctorum from a timeline where it was not destroyed by Dormamu's followers..."

Bruce raised a quizzical eyebrow.

"Long story. We'll be safe here for now—" Stephen's sentence was cut off as he instinctively ducked from the repulsor blast that issued from behind him.

"Take me back there. Now." Tony's mask was covering his face, but there was no mistaking the glare in his voice.

"Mr Stark, I'm sorry—"

Another repulsor blast scorched a hole through a shelf of ancient books behind him.

"Tony! What're you doing? You're blowing holes in our universe here..." Bruce moved himself between Stark and Strange, just at the moment that Strange cast some kind of red laser net over Stark's armor that shrink-wrapped his limbs to his sides.

Stark hit the ground with a clunk.

"Bruce, would you please tell Harry Potter here that we've got to get back to our timeline? We have some Avenging to do..." he snarled and struggled on the floor.

"We can't go back. Not without a plan." Strange said. "Thanos is collecting infinity stones. The best move we have, then, is—"

"I'm sorry if I don't feel like talking battle strategy with the man who can't decide if what he's got in his pocket is a wand or a scalpel. Either way, no one's happy to see you." Tony snarked. "But what you have here is the two most powerful members, minus Thor, of the original dream team, so put a cork in it, I Dream of Genie, and let the grown ups talk."

Strange looked right past Tony to Bruce. "Does he get counted with the grown ups often?"

"Hey! All these bearded micro-aggressions are making my head spin." Bruce looked from Iron Man to the magician, and shook his head slowly. "Tony, I can't imagine what you're going through — I'm so sorry about Pepper. But rushing back into the thick of it, that's stupid talk, and you know it. We've got a safe space here to plot our next move — you're going to need to repair your armor for starters —he looked pointedly at the damage the net had seared into the suit—and if we're going to take down someone as powerful as Thanos, we're going to need a plan. Can we assume that if Mr Strange—"

"—Dr Strange." Stephen corrected.

Bruce repressed an eye-roll. "Dr Strange lets you up, you'll power down the suit and we can resolve things peacefully?"

Stark paused, then gave a minute nod.

"Like you can lecture anyone about peaceful resolutions," Stark muttered as the red cage around him dissolved and he got to his feet, dismantling the suit. "Piss this guy off and half of Harlem goes missing."

Strange glanced at the mild-mannered scientist, momentarily alarmed.

Stark brushed himself down. "By the way, insisting on your 'doctor' title in a room where one guy has seven PhDs and is thus a real doctor, and the other guy is, well, me, just makes you look insecure."

Dr. Strange whistled and turned back to Banner. "Not just a pretty face?"

Banner smiled. "You'd think with all that study, the other guy could manage something more eloquent than 'Hulk smash' huh?"

"He should be writing poetry." Stephen purred.

Somehow, the rapport building between the two men made Stark even crankier.

"So. Why are we three more-than-bachelors cosied up in here, wherever here is, when a major boss level is playing out on Earth as we speak?"

"Because of this." Dr Strange gestured to the Eye of Agamotto."

"Costume jewelry?"

"Shhh!" Banner all-but begged him.

"It's an infinity stone."

Even Stark hushed for a moment.

"And if it's it's here with us," Strange continued, "Thanos can't complete the set, which means we can stave off his achievement of total omnipotency."

"Still. Five against one..." Stark added. "Not promising."

"Hopefully the others in possession of stones will follow suit." Strange suggested. "Thus far he only has the Power Stone and the Space Stone."

"Could you translate that from abracadabra for us?"

Bruce interjected, "The Space Stone's the Tesseract. He killed Loki for it. Picked him up with one hand and choked him." Banner sighed. "The Hulk fought him—Thanos—and lost. He's terrified. That's why he won't come out."

Stark blinked at that.

"The Power Stone — can kill whole planets with a touch, and takes an immensely powerful person to wield it — most who try, die on mere contact with the stone."

The three men fell silent. How were they possibly supposed to be a real threat against power like that?

"We can take as long as we like here — formulating a plan, resting, researching, gathering weapons." Stephen explained. "When we're ready to re-enter our universe, we can return to the exact point from which we left."

"What about a point...oh...say five minutes earlier?" Stark bored into Strange with his eyes, but Strange solemnly shook his head.

"I'm sorry. It's a fixed point."

Stark turned away.

Banner sighed. "This is going to be one weird slumber party."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

In theory, the three men were combing the surviving books in the London Sanctum, trying to find any information on Thanos, or spells or artefacts that might be useful counters against him. Thus, Banner was curled up in a lounge chair, trying to pick through ancient Sanskrit characters — which had only passing resemblance to the Hindi he had learned while living in India. Stark had set FRIDAY up through his empty suit to scan and turn pages, claiming the computer would translate far quicker than he could.

In reality, he was watching Strange practice.

"So what's actually happening there? Ion beam?"

Strange looked up, irritated, the red beam of energy between his fingers dissipating. "Magic obeys certain laws of physics, but ignores others entirely. It's not science."

Stark deadpanned, "Everything is science."

Stephen sighed. "I'm not going to fight with you. I used to be you."

Stark mock-frowned, and paced. "Rational? Logical?"

"Arrogant. Limited." Strange countered.

"I'd say, if the cape with the wind effects and the Liberace pendant are anything to go by, you still are me."

"Before I started saving the world, I was saving patients on the operating table. And what were you doing? Ah yes. Gun salesman to the Middle East." Strange sneered. "I don't think we're all that similar."

Banner suppressed a smile.

Score one, magic man.

That was not a chapter of Stark's history that he was particularly proud of, but his face showed only mask-like calm as he changed tack: "What are the limits of your powers?"

"In theory, limitless. In reality, there are some checks and balances — not dissimilar to the law of conservation of matter. But aside from the multiverse, there are also multiple dimensions, each with different rules, upon which I can draw."

Stark gave a curt nod and folded his arms. "Give me a run down. Top ten parlor tricks?"

Stephen sighed. "Teleportation, conjuring, astral projection, defense and protection spells—"

"—But you can't fix your hands." Stark cut in. "I noticed that you perform most fine motor tasks with magic—it has flair, granted, when you pull a macchiato out of your hat, but it's also because you can't pour a kettle..."

Ouch. Thought Banner. Score one, Stark.

Stephen cleared his throat. "My hands...are a work in progress. But I've had more pressing tasks to attend to since I became Master of the New York Sanctum. And the Ancient One said—"

"The Ancient One? C'mon, you're just making stuff up now." Banner laughed good-naturedly, looking up from his book.

Stark sniggered.

Stephen shrugged, allowing himself a small smile. "That was her name. She was older than Stonehenge, so as names go, it was fairly apt. Anyway—she made it implicit that at some point, I am to become the Sorcerer Supreme in her stead."

Stark did a double take, eyes wide and fixed.

"The top job in the wizard kingdom is named after a deep-dish?"

"I don't think they like to be called wizards, Tone —"Banner corrected.

"Does have a KKK ring to it." He agreed.

Stephen tried to ignore the continued banter of the other two and settled down, cross-legged, to scry for possible futures where they beat Thanos. Could it even be done?

He levitated off the floor and made the appropriate hand motions to draw back the iris of the Eye.

In most scenarios, he watched them return to find Earth a battle-ravaged wasteland. In a couple, Thor appeared with a giant axe and split Thanos' ring-bearing hand in two. Once, Black Widow wore a metal glove adorned with the stones and she fried, her hair turning grey in a second.

As Stephen worked his way through the possibilities, he lived through the gruesome deaths of Earth's heroes again and again. He also endured weeks, months or years of being locked in the pocket dimension with Tony and Bruce, driving each other mad.

And then, it happened: in one scenario, Tony Stark leaned in and kissed Stephen.

Stephen was so startled he fell off his perch, and rather awkwardly, regained consciousness in the waiting arms of Stark, who had been watching the weirdly hypnotising way Strange's body had contorted as he sorted through different futures at top speed.

Strange's eyes widened and he staggered backward, away from the engineer, panting.

"That bad, huh?" Stark asked.

"Surprisingly good, actually..." Strange responded without thinking, but swallowed and centered himself when he saw Tony giving him a sharp look. "I mean—it is possible. There are scenarios where we defeat Thanos."

"How?" Tony demanded.

"If I tell you in any exacting detail, your foreknowledge might prevent the sequence of events from occurring." Strange said quickly. Then he got up and swept from the room.

In the dormitory, Strange splashed water on his face. He was not horrified by the idea of kissing a man—he considered himself bisexual, although he'd only dated women. But Tony Stark—playboy philanthropist/walking defense mechanism—felt like a third category entirely. And give the timing, the whole thing was a terrible idea. Best avoided.

Banner spent the afternoon pouring through books and making notes.

Meanwhile, Stark explored the limits of what he thought of as the Time Prison. He told himself he was just checking out the premises, find the sanctums' kitchenette and dormitory, checking out the artefacts, and in no way looking for instructions on how to use that Time Pendant so he could steal it, and turn back time to save Pepper.

He was sure the doctor had been lying about it, and was more unwilling than unable to break the laws of nature. He, however, had no problem bending physics to his will.

But although FRIDAY had reported forty-three mentions of something that controlled time called the 'Eye of Agamotto'—no wonder the doctor had failed to mention that guy's ridiculous name—there were absolutely no instructions on how to use it, or even how it worked.

So he was going to have to spy on the wizard.

Strange was sitting cross-legged, a few inches above his bed again, his head tilting and turning.

But he was also murmuring, "No...no!" Quiet tears ran down his face, but he didn't stop.

Obviously, being able to see all possible futures took a toll.

For the first time, Tony stopped to consider that there might be a person under all that velvet and prat. He felt vaguely guilty for two reasons. One, for spying on someone when they were vulnerable. And two, because he hadn't shed many tears for Pepper yet.

"I don't need to cry." He told himself. "I need to get her back."

"Tony?" Strange had come to, and noticed him. His voice was unusually soft. His eyes—a very piercing blue, Stark noticed—looked even bluer when red-rimmed from crying.

"I can't work without my lab." Tony adlibbed. "What are the chances you can conjure one for me?"

Strange's cloak wiped away the tears from the cut hollows of Strange's cheek as he got to his feet. Was that thing sentient? Stark wondered.

When he spoke again, Strange's voice had lost it's soft note. "What do you need?"

Xxxxxx

Apparently the pocket universe had a limited square footage, but since there were only three occupants of the Sanctum, Strange was able to conjure a small but workable laboratory in the space that the other beds had occupied. Tony left FRIDAY upstairs in the suit to keep scanning books, while he cranked 'Highway to Hell' by AC/DC and fired up his blow torch.

In the library upstairs, Banner cleared his throat. "This might be something."

Strange came over.

"I think it's a spell to turn an enemies' power inward. Like forcing an explosion to become an implosion."

Strange snatched up the book and read it quickly. Without lifting his eyes from the page, in a low, understated voice, he said, "This could be good..."

They had dog-eared three different ideas from the library so far and stacked them on the table. Strange marked the book and put it down.

"You know, it will have to be you." Strange said, "To wield the gauntlet."

"What gauntlet?"

Of course. He hadn't told either of them anything he'd seen. "In the futures I've seen, Thanos is wearing a metal gauntlet with the infinity stones set into them."

"How many stones?" Banner already anticipated the answer to that question.

"Sometimes four. Sometimes, five." Strange admitted. "He doesn't always have the Mind Stone."

"Vision keeps it safe." Banner smiled, relieved.

Strange chose not to share his suspicion that in those timelines, SHIELD had simply made the utilitarian decision to destroy the Mind Stone, and Vision along with it. He continued, "No human could put on the gauntlet and live. But your green friend..."

"You don't want the Hulk wearing a magic doom glove, Doc. He's volatile."

"But all we want him to do with it is what The Hulk does best." Strange smiled. "Smash it."

"That could work..." Banner paused, "Although since meeting Thanos, The Hulk has had a little performance anxiety."

Stephen gave that absurd thought a chuckle.

"I've been meaning to ask..." Banner scratched the back of his head, "when all this is over, do you think, maybe, you could help me see if there's a magical solution to my little Jekyl-and-Hyde problem?"

Stephen blinked. "Of course...but...you no longer want to be an Avenger?"

"He's the Avenger." Banner said. "I'm just collateral."

Stephen raised his eyebrows. "I don't think your colleagues see it that way."

"Look, Doc, the last time the other guy was out? I lost two years of my life while the Hulk fought in some off-world gladiator pit fight." Banner looked down at the desk. "I've got no idea how much blood is on his big green hands, but I do know that I don't want to lose control to him again, because this time, I might never come back."

Stephen swallowed. "I'll do whatever I can to help you." he promised.

Xxxxxx

Over two months passed in the pocket dimension. Banner was actually getting pretty good at Sanskrit now, and they had a veritable pile of books between them. Stephen thought privately that it was a shame Bruce didn't have access to a sling ring in the pocket, because he had a mind quite flexible enough to learn magic, he was certain.

Meanwhile, Stark had not just repaired his own suit, but had also built AI-powered armor to help protect the Hulk—that was programmed intervene if he tried to do anything with the gauntlet other than destroy it.

Stephen had practiced coordinating the new spells in concert over and over until they were second nature. Though he was still somewhat fearful his hands might tremor at just the wrong time on the battlefield and interrupt his concentration, They were, technically, ready. But there was one more pressing thing on his mind that morning, and he was lying in wait for Tony Stark to appear.

'Morning Bruce, Casper." The way Strange levitated all the time still annoyed him. Stark could levitate too, but did you see him doing so before breakfast? Just poor taste.

"We need to talk, Stark." Strange said.

Banner had that look on his face too, Tony noticed. This was an intervention.

"What about?"

"Your plan to steal the Time Stone and save your wife." Strange deadpanned.

Oh. That.

"I can see into the future, Tony." Strange's tone was tinged with pity, but also frustration. Stark was interested in neither of these emotions.

"As we get ready to mount our attack on Thanos, you wait for me to open a portal back to our original universe, then try to grab the Time Stone and disappear though the portal in seven-hundred and fifty eight versions of our future. And do you know what happens every time?"

"I end up trapped with Doc Brown in 1955?"

"No—" Strange gave him a look of disgust. "When you do manage to grasp it, you fail to work the Time Stone and it kills you—trapping Bruce and I in the pocket universe forever—sometimes the closing portal leaves us with your decapitated head."

Stark didn't blink, but his nostrils flared slightly.

"In the rest of the timelines, I kill you." Strange admits. "But the point is, you can't control the Eye by will alone."

"Then help me." Stark demands. "I know you can save her, but the rules of your stupid magical Fight Club don't allow it."

"I am not above bending the rules, Stark." Strange was looking paler than usual. Rage, Tony thought. "When Dormamu came —think Thanos, but a giant amorphous God that eats planets with his own dimension—I trapped the pair of us in an illegal time loop. It served as a prison precisely because neither he nor I could affect anything outside the loop. I broke the rules to save Earth then, and even if consequences manifest, I feel they will be worth it." Stephen took a deep breath, "but here lies the point—the reason we are safe in this pocket universe now is because the same principle applies—the universe can't affect us, and we can't affect the universe. Although the Eye can usually reverse time, we can't reverse back past this moment. Do you understand? The minute I created the pocket, Pepper was dead forever."

Strange reeled backwards mid-air from where Tony had punched him. The cloak slowed and righted his spin as he rubbed his jaw.

"Why didn't Dormamu just kill you?" Stark spat, the threat behind his question clear.

"He did. Seventy-eight thousand, eight hundred and twelve times." Strange answered. "It didn't help."

Banner gaped and even Stark lowered his clenched fist. Strange misunderstood why Bruce was boggling at him. "I have an eidetic memory." he said, to explain his numerical specificity.

"Right. So. She's not coming back—she's never..." Stark leaned up against the wall, a single sob escaping, then he slammed his hand against it, and fled without another word.

Bruce screwed up his face. "I think we need to postpone D-Day."

"Agreed." Strange stared at the corridor through which Stark had disappeared.

"So, you really died that many times? Wh-what was that even like?" Bruce asked, awe in his voice. And he'd thought being the Hulk was a rough gig.

"Painful." Was all Stephen said.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

Stark sat up in bed as a high-ball glass appeared on the nightstand and began to fill with scotch, neat.

He looked up and saw Strange leaning in the doorway. He wasn't wearing the cape— just his usual black suit that made him look like he was on his way home from an uptown dojo.

And for once he wasn't floating.

"It's the cape that lets you levitate." He realised aloud, taking a sip of the scotch.

Strange nodded, and figured Stark's demeanor was warm enough for him to stride in and sit beside him on the bed.

Neither of them spoke for a moment.

"Your whole world ended with your accident—your career as a surgeon." Stark sounded like he was asking a question.

"Yes..."

"How did you react?"

Stephen raised an eyebrow. "Badly. I blamed everyone but myself, drove away my friends, spent all my money—burned down the house with me inside. Kamar Taj saved me."

Stark threw back the scotch, only to give a sideways smile when it refilled itself.

"And if you could do it over?"

Strange pictured the disappointment on Christine's face. "I'd let my friends help me."

Stark nodded, his chin touching his chest.

Stephen felt like he was actually meeting Tony Stark for the first time—the distant snark monster was as much a wearable armor as the iron man suit itself, and it was coming off.

"Pepper—She was the best part of me. Smarter. Better. Kinder. More charming."

"Hard to imagine." Strange joked, rubbing his bruised jaw.

"Yeah, I'd like to say I'm sorry about that, but I'm not sure I am. Not sure what I am. If I'm anything without her." Stark said the last part as though Strange wasn't in the room.

"Was Pepper the first person you ever loved?"

"Um. No."

"Who was?"

"James Dean."

Strange smiled. "No, really."

"I mean really." Tony said. "He even played me in Rebel Without a Cause."

"Nice try. The protagonist's name in that film is Jim Stark." Stephen huffed.

Tony smiled, eyes downcast, "Don't test the guy with the eidetic memory."

Tony reached out a hand and squeezed Stephen's which was lying passive on the bed. Suddenly, Stephen thought of that future in which Tony kissed him. He blushed, a little panicked. That was the definition of a bad idea, right?

After a moment long enough to be considered "appropriate comfort" passed, he withdrew, filling the glass once more with whiskey.

"Goodnight, Tony."

Xxxxxxxxx

From that point, it seemed, Stephen Strange and Tony Stark were friends. Except they were not friends. Tony went out of his way to get the magician's attention, approval, and Stephen went out of his way not to show that it was working.

Banner noticed the man-crush. He'd been on the other side of one of Tony's man-crushes, after the New York incident. He recalled Tony, bouncing around his R&D department, talking at a million miles an hour, throwing quips left and right. It had been fun.

But he was beginning to wonder if this was more than a bromance. And whether or not either of them had any intention of ever leaving the pocket universe.

"I think you'll find it was a Side B release." Stark was sitting on the table edge and leaning back to talk to Strange.

"Apocryphal." Stephen scoffed.

"Real—1957. My father had a signed copy."

"Your father met Billie Holiday?"

"My father knew Billie Holiday." Stark countered, looking smug.

Stephen gave him an indulgent smile. "That's cheating."

Banner rolled his eyes, and cleared his throat. "So...have we given any more thought to, you know, stopping Thanos, saving the universe?"

There was an awkward pause.

"I—am not ready. PTSD, all that." Stark said dismissively. "Maybe tomorrow?"

But Strange regained his serious, composed look. Stark hated that look. Stephen Strange was an okay guy, even had a sense of humour once you thawed him out. But all the weight-of-the-world magic crap made him so removed, distant. His choices as Strange were warm, human, but his choices as Sorceror Supreme or whoever he was trying to be were more like a machine. What kind of person knowingly trapped themselves in a torture bubble with an angry God to be deatomised seventy-eight thousand, eight hundred and twelve times? And thenm after each grisly death, maintain the time loop and sign on for another one?

Stark had thought Strange might be a masochist when he'd first explained how he tricked Dormamu—or some sort of glory hog who wanted to die heroically to save the Earth, a la a certain star-spangled Captain he knew.

But Stephen just had something which Tony wasn't sure he felt. Duty. For all his arrogance, Strange thought his life was a small price to pay for saving the world.

Whereas Tony would be prepared to pay with his life to save Earth, if he had to. But he would consider the price high.

Stark tuned back in to the conversation just in time to realise Banner and Strange had committed them to returning tomorrow. Banner was off to the lab to do one final test run of his suit.

"You coming, Tony?" Banner asked.

"Be down in a minute." Stark turned back to read Strange's expression. It was all sharp edges.

"Something's wrong." Stark stated, rather than asked.

"Well, we all might die tomorrow." Stephen replied.

"Yeah, but you die all the time." This earned a small smile from Strange. "You're worried about those futures you saw—so bad, they brought tears—I'm guessing you saw us dying..."

"Not us. You." Stephen said, then shook his head. "You die in an inordinate number of those futures." He looked up at Stark's face. "I shouldn't have said anything."

"Dying is always a possibility." Stark shrugged. "Wait—we weren't even friends when you got out your crystal ball last time, and watching me die still got you choked up—did Thanos light me up like a Christmas tree or something?"

"A side effect of seeing into multiple futures is feeling like you've lived them. So by the time I'd sat through a couple of hundred futures with you and Bruce, I felt like I knew you fairly well." Stephen's voice was light, but his facial expression showed sorrow.

"What you do—it hurts. Why do it? There are other kinds of magic than Time." Stark stood a little closer.

"Yes, but few as effective." Strange said. "And being guardian of an infinity stone is not just a weekends-and-christmas gig. It's all-in."

When he looked up, Stark was far too close, their chests only a handbreadth apart.

"And are you...all in?" There was no mistake about what Stark's tone was asking. But he was keeping it masked, waiting until he was sure...

Stephen put a hand on Tony's cheek. A tremor ran through it. For a moment Tony breathed it in, hesitated...

Til Stephen kissed him.

Swift and full, no denying it, no ability to pass it off as something else if the feeling wasn't returned. Their eyes locked.

Suddenly, a flip switched in Stark's brain, and he grasped Stephen and kissed him again, pushing him back into the desks, rolling on top of him, pulling his hair.

Stephen wasn't quite used to being on the receiving end of this kind of sexual aggression, but neither was he hating it. The lingering suggestion of stubble on his skin, the aftershave...the directness...he wasn't sure if these were facets of male-to-male relations generally, or deliciously, uniquely Stark.

"How the hell does this thing come off?" Stark complained, pulling at the sorcerer's black robes with one hand, clasping Strange's hip with the other.

"It...ties in the...back..." Stephen huffed between kisses. Tony finally managed to expose the pale skin of his partner's torso, and was soon relieved of his own fitted sweater. The RT unit in the center of his chest was edged with metal where it met the skin.

Stephen's medical eye was drawn to the scar tissue around it.

"You've had a lot of surgeries..." he ghosted the edge of certain cuts with a finger.

Stark gave a shrug, keen to continue, "the last one was self-inflicted."

The doctor's long hand closed over his the unit and his chest. He tilted Tony's chin upward and kissed him again. The pair got heated and wrestled their way down toward the dormitories.

Banner was inside the lab nearby, listening to Tony's music loudly, thank God, but Stephen gestured and made orange glyphs on his hands which he shot at the closed door.

Tony raised a quizzical eyebrow.

Stephen grinned like a cheeky school boy. "I locked him in."

Tony laughed, pulling him back through the doorway, onto his bed. He was giving Stephen a lot of attention, kissing his hip, feeling his hardness through his black trousers.

"Lube." Stark commanded.

Stephen clumsily conjured condoms and lube on the bedside table with a flick of his wrist.

"I haven't done this since college." Stark admitted. He grabbed the lube, and after sucking two of Stephen's fingers for him, he coated them in the glistening substance, answering Stephen's unspoken question about exactly how this was going to go.

Kissing the nape of his neck, Stephen let his hand trail down Tony's muscled lats and glutes, and began to massage his way slowly in to the cleft, and finally, the waiting orifice.

Tony gave a little groan and pushed closer to him, increasing their hardness. When he was ready, Tony got onto the bed on his hands and knees, and pulled Stephen close behind him.

Tony groaned as he entered, and Stephen slid one hand onto his lover's waist to steady himself, the other curled around to stroke him in time with their thrusts.

Stark drove the pace of it all, and Stephen was soon panting with lust—the animal noises that Tony Stark made were not to be believed. He came quickly, then brought Tony to follow with his hand.

"You're not tired yet?" Tony challenged as they both collapsed on the bed, drawing Stephen in for another kiss.

"Not at all..." he paused. "But this time, I want to be able to see your face." The confident air on Tony's face flickered, but he nodded.

"Lie down then."

On his back, looking up at Tony Stark, it wasn't hard to become aroused again. Stark eased himself back onto his partner's lap, and began to ride him.

Stephen reached up and knitted a soft hand though Stark's hair. "Not like that." He murmured. "Don't perform for me. Just be with me. Look me in the eyes."

Stark swallowed. Fucking, he was down for. But this was more like...

"Making love's a problem?" Stephen purred, pulling his partner closer, until their stomachs and lower torsos were pressed together.

The bewildered expression on Tony's face transformed as he stared into Stephen's eyes. He wasn't sure that the sorcerer wasn't using magic on him, but the blue of his irises just kept getting deeper and deeper. Stephen's hands were holding his shoulders, caressing them. His own hands were pressed against Stephen's chest.

They began to move together, soft, huffing breath, then more and more energy and release. They were in synch now, and the effect was powerful. Tony was close.

Stephen's hand cupped the back of his head. "Keep looking at me. Stay with me." He breathed.

Tony's o-face looked like liquid terror—Stephen guessed he had a hard time being vulnerable anywhere. But those long eye-lashes, dark brown eyes...it was by far the most beautiful thing Stephen Strange had ever seen.

He lay curled up against Stephen's chest afterward, breathing heavily.

"That was...good. Not what I expected...but, good."

Stephen laughed. "You thought I was going to be an insensitive prick as a lover?"

"I was just worried you were gonna pull a rabbit from somewhere..." he bit back.

Stephen laughed into his hair.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Banner didn't question anyone about why the door had jammed for over two hours, just to inexplicably open around 10pm. He also didn't ask why the others were already each in their dormitory beds.

Likewise, the next morning, Stark and Strange made no mention of the night before. Nothing was said or clarified about what their night meant— they each knew they'd wanted to do it in case one of them, or both of them died, and they never got to.

But what about if they lived? What would they be then? Stephen guessed he was probably a rebound since Tony was grieving Pepper —would probably always be grieving her. This knowledge felt like his own RT unit, buzzing in his chest.

Tony figured Strange was expecting him to die in the battle, and that this had been a sort of farewell. Clearly he was the kind of guy where the mission came first — the infinity stone wasn't just for weekends and Christmas, he'd said.

Ironic that Tony was getting shelved by someone who was too busy with their work.

But still, when their eyes met there was warmth and knowing. Tony took one last look around the Time Prison before he suited up. It felt fitting that as soon as the three of them left, this place would blink out of existence.

"You all set, Banner?" Strange asked. He was about to magically provoke the Hulk's transformation.

A series of orange swirling dials and discs appeared around Dr Strange's hands. The cape of levitation billowed as he opened the Eye, then the portal.

"Showtime." Stark said.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The beak-faced alien fell quickly. Stark saw to that, while Strange teleported in as many SHIELD operatives and Avengers as he could muster in the seconds before Thanos' ship arrived.

Then Stark went aerial, finding weaknesses in the ships and grounding them, so the aliens couldn't escape. Hulk followed him around, tearing them open like tin cans and destroying weaponry.

When Thanos showed himself, he used the Mind Stone to control the minds of his enemies. But thanks to the spell Banner had found, he only succeeded in creating a fugue in his own head. Enraged, he leapt forward and aimed the Power Stone at Strange. But the blow rebounded on himself, crackling under his skin, as the Hulk attacked him from behind.

The carnage continued, as other Avengers battled the alien forces; dragging down Chittari fleets like derailed train carriages. Thor and Hulk took up melee positions around Thanos, trying to obtain the gauntlet, while Strange hovered nearby and kept up the enchantments.

Stark was busy containing the battle, driving the alien forces back into the central fighting region. "They're not organized." He said through the comms. "They thought they had the element of surprise."

And they would have. If not for the pocket universe. Without those months of planning and preparation, the defenders of earth would have been scattered, leaderless, and taken down group by group.

Thanos would have won.

Stark glanced up at Strange, floating in the sky, directing the chaos below. He might not have seven phDs, or a real doctorate, but he did have an eerie ability to see the big picture.

Stark had thought he'd seen this coming. Thought he'd been preparing for the finale of Space Invaders ever since New York. He'd always thought he was more misanthropist than philanthropist, but on reflection, he could see how human his reactions had been.

He whistled into his comms. "Strange? Remind me never to challenge you to a game of chess."

Strange turned over his shoulder and gave Stark a warm smile for a moment. Then he swiveled back:

"Hulk. Now!"

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Banner awoke to discover that the Earth had not been destroyed. Thanos had never managed more than four infinity stones, and thanks to the other guy, the Power, Space, Reality and Soul Stones were gone forever.

His hospital dorm room was eerily familiar — he was apparently housed in the New York Sanctum, where Dr Strange had been overseeing his medical care.

Looking down, he saw scar tissue—from third-degree burns, it looked like— all across his knuckles and trailing up his right arm, underneath medical dressings.

"You're awake." Stephen smiled. "Hail the conquering hero."

"So we won?" Banner tried to sit up in bed. "Whoa..." he regretted trying to move as his head spun.

"We won." Strange said. "And, it might be more my fault than Thanos' that you're feeling so awful—I take it you're familiar with the symptoms?"

Banner paused for a moment. "Radiation poisoning...Doc, what did you do?" He panicked again.

"Cured you—I hope." Strange sat down beside the bed. "Don't worry, I stayed away from gamma rays. I used a fluorescent tracer to mark all the pluripotent stem cells in your body, then used the Time Stone to turn each one back to their physical state before the experiment. Then I used chemotherapy to wipe out the totipotent stem cells and let the pluripotent ones differentiate and repopulate. It seems to have worked, but I guess we won't know until you get angry."

"That's...that's brilliant. You can't knock out Hulk-affected cells because they respond to aggression with rapid growth and proliferation, but if you rewound them to a previous state...Doc, I could kiss you."

"You'd better not." Stark was leaning in the corner of the room. "And who do you think built the tech that visually magnified the area and allowed the doc to work cell by cell? We were pulling 40 hour shifts..."

Banner just smiled. "Thank you, Tony."

"I hope you don't miss the other guy." Stark added. "I always kinda liked him."

"Well, if you do decide you've got time to be an Avenger, in between, I assume, returning to your research..." Strange handed him a sling ring. "Wanna be a wizard?"

Banner was too touched to speak.

"Hey, if you're handing those out." Stark commented, "I'd love to pull one apart in my R&D department."

"I don't think you have the temperament." Strange laughed.

"Oh?" Tony raised an eyebrow.

"You don't control magic—you have to submit to it. It's an uncomfortably humbling process." Stephen explained.

"Right...you lost me." Tony laughed. "But hey, if somehow you managed to do it..."

Stephen smirked. "It's a work in progress."

As the pair of them bowed out to let Banner get some rest, Stark threw a coy look at Strange. "My sanctum or yours? Stark Tower is only a taxi ride from here."

They both knew they didn't need a taxi with the sling ring on Stephen's fingers. So this was just Stark's way of keeping it light in case Stephen said no.

"Are you wanting to Netflix-and-chill, or something more?" Strange asked. He cleared his throat. "I'd understand if you're not in a relationship place right now, but—"

"Stephen, you've got to stop hanging out in the Himalayas. No one says 'netflix-and-chill' anymore." Stark deadpanned. Then he looked down at his feet. "Truthfully, I've never been up for much more than 'chilling'—even with Pepper, I kept her at arm's length for so long that—" he broke off.

"I...understand." Stephen swallowed, trying to hold back tears in his eyes. He had expected this after all.

"No, you clearly don't. What I'm trying to say is: I made a mistake with Pepper. I wasted her time—our time—together. And now she's gone. And I don't want to waste the time I could have with you."

Stephen looked up.

"But first, you gotta tell me—are you married to the job? Because that's me—the old me—and I don't want to be the old me, much less be with a version of the old me." Stark said.

Stephen took a deep breath. "I'm the Master of the New York Sanctum, Tony—so I'm always going to heed the call if the city—if Earth needs me. You're Iron Man—you're no different."

Stark looked like he was about to interrupt, but Strange held up his hand. "But just because I'm connected to the Eye, and the Ancient One suggested it, that doesn't mean I have to become the Sorcerer Supreme. Who knows? Give Banner some time to practice with the sling ring..."

Stark laughed.

"I want to have a life." Stephen promised. "And save Earth occasionally." He shrugged.

"Me too." Stark replied. He reached out and held Stephen's hands, drawing the sorcerer a few steps closer to him.

They kissed.

"You know, I did see us kiss in one future that I scried, but I never saw exactly this version of events..." Stephen confided. "Shifts some of the burden of premeditation off the future, knowing that even the Eye doesn't show everything."

"When exactly did you forsee us kiss?"

Strange tilted his head and gave an embarrassed grin. "That time I fell into your lap."

"That's the feeling I evoke in you? You looked scared shitless!"

"I was! Recall at that point, you hated me."

"No. I fancied you." Tony wrinkled up his nose. "Which made me hate you more." He gestured up and down his partner's form. "It's like looking in a mirror."

"That's a disturbing thought. But it does lead me to an idea." Stephen grinned. "Where in the world would you want to have sex, if you knew you couldn't get caught? There's this thing called the mirror dimension that—"

"Fenway Park. Fury's desk. Cap's apartment." Stark said immediately, mind still racing.

Stephen shook his head, and still shaking with with laughter, kissed him.

THE END