It happened one day, probably a Thursday, when Tony wandered, still sleep-pliant, into the kitchen. He paused in the doorway to smile at Steve, backlit by the morning sun. "Hello, gorgeous. You haven't aged a day." He'd already padded to the fridge and so had missed the way Steve blinked and then stiffened, letting the paper fall to the table.
"You haven't aged a day either, Tony."
"Aw, that's sweet," he said, swigging orange juice straight from the carton.
"No. Tony..."
Finally catching the tones of Steve's voice, he turned to see his partner sitting very straight at the table, eyes roving over him. "Hey, if you wanted a morning quickie, all you had to do was say so..." He frowned. "What's the matter?"
"You haven't aged a day."
"Yeah. You said. Thank you. I think I've held up pretty well, all things considered."
Steve got up and skirted the table, running his hands over Tony's face and shoulders. "You literally have not aged. You've stopped ageing. Is this... Did you do this with Extremis?"
"What?" Tony frowned, the uncapped OJ container still in his hand. "What are you talking about?"
"Pictures. Do you have pictures from ten years ago?"
"Ten—Steve, what is going on?"
"You've stopped ageing, Tony!" he said, voice turning slightly hysterical.
"So I'm immortal. Cool." He brushed Steve's hands off and returned the carton. "You haven't aged either, you know."
Steve looked stricken. "Oh God..."
"Why is this a bad thing?" Tony tilted his head, leaning a hip against the counter. "We'll be young and beautiful an—"
"Why are you not bothered by this!
Tony sighed. "It's probably just something that got messed up in our chemistry and biology. There's nothing to worry about, Steve. If you want to age, I'm sure we can fix it."
But Tony looked into it, quickly becoming perplexed. So he turned to others. McCoy. Pym. Richards. Xavier. Strange. What was most worrying was that there was nothing wrong with them and none of their usual resources had anything to say about what might be causing the problem that Tony wasn't so sure was a problem.
Not that he was about to start the self-hurt in case they could be killed. Just because they couldn't age didn't mean that they couldn't be killed.
Luckily, before these thoughts had too much time to progress, they were called away to fight aliens.
And nothing went wrong so they returned home and played the Avengers game for eleven more years before Tony finally flopped down on the couch and announced, "I'm done."
"Oh, you finish your project?" Steve asked, biting his lip appealingly as he sketched an unaware Peter.
"Ages ago, Steve. Come on. Pay attention."
Pausing in his stroke, Steve frowned at him. "What's going on?"
"I just..." Tony heaved a sigh. "I think I'm... done. With. With, the Avengers."
"What do you mean?" Steve set down the charcoal. "Right. So we're not getting any older."
"Yes...?"
"And I think we should..." Tony shifted on the couch and shrugged a shoulder. "I think we should disappear for a while."
Having his full attention, Steve tilted his head at Tony. "Like...retire?"
"Yeah!" Tony sat. "I think that's a great idea."
"And...do what?"
"Move to Canada!" Tony grinned.
"Move to what?"
Tony laughed. "Don't look so scandalised. It's not horrible."
"Tony. Tony. I'm Captain America."
"Exactly!" Tony waggled his brows. "So they'll never look for us in Canada."
"Never loo—what is going on in your head?"
"Steve... I need a break! I think we both do. We've been doing this too long. We've been in the world too long." He flopped dramatically, face-down, into the cushions.
"Okay. Wait a minute. Now you're sounding like some jaded little thing, bored with his money."
Tony snorted. "Don't make fun of me. Think of it like a vacation. Have you had a vacation ever? We're always on-call. I think we should take a break."
Steve was silent for a few minutes, thinking this over. "No..." He said slowly.
"No what, Steve? No what?"
"No, I've never really had a vacation."
"Do you want to see the world?" Tony blinked at him through his lashes. "Not because you need to save it? We could travel. Incognito. You know?"
Steve snorted this time. "Tony. Do you even know the meaning of the word 'incognito?'"
"Stop it. Think about it." He rolled off the couch to his feet. "Really. Think on it. I'm going down to the shop. We could just disappear. Come back later."
"That's irresponsible," Steve said, disapproval clear in his voice. But he did think on it.
Four days later, Steve tromped into Avengers tower, covered in some sort of goo that had disintegrated his costume and burned his hair of the left half of his head that he snapped to Tony, "We're leaving!" before continuing to the shower.
By the time he got out, Tony had two backpacks sitting on the bed and was rifling through a drawer.
"What—"
"You said we're leaving. Here are our bags—figured you'd appreciate travelling light. I was just checking to be sure I grabbed the spare bottle of lube. Not that we won't be around civilisation to get more, I just wanted to get the good stuff because it's our last bottle and it's good stuff. So—"
"Tony... I didn't mean leave right away..."
"Why not? We should. It's the best way. Clean break, you know. Aha!"
"Are we going to tell anyone?" Steve scrunched up his face, towelling his hair dry. Well. What was left of it...
"No."
"No."
"Uh, that's what I said. No." Tony blinked at him.
"I'm pretty sure that's a bad idea."
"But only pretty sure. And if it is..." Tony shrugged. "Well, it can be blamed on me. King of bad ideas: Tony Stark."
"Tony... That wasn't the point." Steve crossed the room to pull on briefs before a clean pair of pants. "I just meant... Well. We'd be leaving everyone behind."
"Steve, are you pretending to be dumb or something? That's the point." Tony glared at him.
"What are we going to do though!"
Tony laughed. "Oh God! You're getting cold feet! You've never not been...this, and now you don't know what to do! Oh geeze. Cap. I'll take care of everything. I've set up an alternate bank account that can't be traced back to me. I can still access information—I've got Extremis, but set up with new firewalls and more complex tracking software. Pepper will be fine. They'll look up my will when they assume we're dead. Then—"
"They'll assume we're dead?" Steve yelped.
"Steve." Tony rolled his eyes. "Honestly. We're going off-grid. As in, they won't know where we are. We're gone. Vamoose! Incognito! Vanished. Like magic, only not because I hate magic."
"Oh God..." Steve said faintly, the world spinning a little.
"Woah. Okay. Oooo-kay, let's get you sitting." Tony's arms were around his shoulders and he was sitting on the bed, head between his knees. "It's okay... Really. The world will be fine without us," Tony said gently, rubbing his back.
The dizziness passed and Steve was able to sit back up without the world threatening to tip him off it. But then... That's what he was going to do to himself, wasn't it?
"It'll be fine. We'll be fine. Can you do this?" Tony cupped his face, eyes roaming across it, searching.
"I..." Steve grounded himself in Tony's gaze. "I'll be fine," he breathed. And hoped to God it was true.
The first place they went was India. Steve had always wanted to go, and Tony was game. So they rented a Jeep and a tiny little house outside of Mahabaleshwar which was close to Mumbai. Tony turned brown and Steve learned how to cook with Indian spices and they rode elephants and rickshaws and learned to live outside the world.
If Tony kept up with the news through Extremis, he didn't say so. After a year in the middle-of-nowhere, India, Tony stopped mentioning what was happening back home.
The second place they went was Japan. Tony spoke the language and they moved into another tiny flat and made friends with their neighbours. Steve grew his hair until it could be tied back into a pony-tail, letting it down when the lamps were low and Tony tangled his fingers in it irreparably. Tony let his drape across his forehead, and they learned how to sail, fish, and wear yukatas. Steve mastered the katana more quickly with Tony, but Tony teased him with Japanese phrases, so it balanced out.
By the time they left, Steve could get by on his own—enough to go grocery shopping, barter with Mrs. Harishima on the corner for melons and grapes and come out on the better end of the deal some days. Though maybe it was because he always smiled at her.
The third place they went was Russia.
They didn't stay long. Tony hated the cold, and Steve's Russian was rusty.
The fourth place they went was Brazil. Tony turned brown again, Steve burned.
He came home from his job in the banana fields to find Tony seated in the centre of their house (more of a glorified shack beside a river), tinkering with the suit.
"Hey... I thought we weren't doing this?" Steve set the shopping down.
"Just upkeep," Tony said around a screwdriver clenched in his lips. He was covered in grease, apparently not having showered after he got home from the mechanic.
"How was work."
"Mundane," Tony said absently.
"We should spar." Steve stripped off his shirt and then came to stand behind Tony, running his fingers through his hair. "Your hair is long."
"Helps me look native..."
Steve snorted and then shook his head. "I'm gonna tinker with the bike."
"Sure thing, babe. Then we can spar," Tony said, frowning at some of the more delicate machinery. "Gonna have to steal tools from work again..."
Brazil was nice.
The thick forest close to the house provided the perfect place for them to spar. Using branches as fake weapons, they kept their skills sharp until their 'weapons' broke and they were resorting to hands and feet.
The fifth place they went was the hills of Scotland. The highlands. Gorgeous rolling green hills.
Steve perfected a Scottish accent while Tony wore lots of kilts. And then Steve wore lots of kilts. They both really enjoyed the kilts.
Tony's bag-piping? Steve did not so much enjoy.
Tony's love of furs before a fire? Steve did enjoy. Despite the fact that he felt like he was drawing romance novel covers whenever he drew Tony. The drawings often disappeared, but Steve didn't care. Because he could always draw more.
The first time they set foot on home soil, Tony shaved his goatee and dyed his hair a light brown. Steve didn't have sex with him for a week.
However, they did make it just in time for Mardi Gras in New Orleans. Wandering the streets, they got flashed so many times, Tony growled and dragged Steve back to their apartment and fucked him into the mattress.
Afterwards, sweaty and panting, Steve followed the cracks in the ceiling and sighed. "How's Stark Resilient?"
"Huh?"
"You heard me, Tony. How's your company. I can't imagine you not keeping track."
"Oh," Tony breathed into the pillow, arm flung across Steve's waist. "Doin' great."
"You send Pepper plans? For new stuff?"
"Hm."
"That's the only way that a company can keep going up. New material. How'd you leave things?"
Tony sighed and rolled to his side, cracking an eye. "It's fine. I took care of it all. How come you're only asking now?"
"I..." Floundering for the words to say, Steve settled for a shrug. "I didn't... I dunno."
"In my will, if I was missing for three years, I would be pronounced dead, and Pepper would be given control of my company. Again. Of all facets. And she would be given an algorithm that would release projects for the company to begin production on, spaced apart. They were 'locked' in the hard drive that would be given to her."
"But you couldn't have planned this far—"
"I didn't." Tony shook his head. "I've got the plans." He tapped his temple. "As I come up with stuff, I load it to the hard drive and then let it loose to Pep."
Steve smiled and shook his head. "Can't let go, can you?"
"Hey, I've still got ideas."
"What happened to everything else? We just left."
"Yeah. I locked up my bank account and left instructions for my L.A. house to be turned into a museum of sorts. All of our stuff from New York was sent there, since you left me power of attorney."
"I did not!"
Tony grinned. "You know, that's not the way I remember it..."
"Tony...!"
"Don't worry! All our stuff is safe. Back at my place. And my money is to be used to fund upkeep and maintenance. And with dividends funnelling in from S.R., well, it's only been increasing."
"So you're rich again." Steve frowned up at the cracks.
"What's the matter?"
"So when you get money..."
Tony shrugged again. "Sometimes it's Christmas decorations, sometimes it's pool cleaning. You know."
Steve was silent.
"What's the matter?"
"Maybe we should go—"
"Nope. Not doing it. Come on, Cap. We still haven't finished our checklist!" Tony grinned cheekily, scooting down the bed. "Besides," he said huskily, "they're doing just fine without us... Don't let it eat your ego."
"Yeah, but," Steve protested, squirming as Tony petted him a few times to half-hardness. "I think..."
"Now's not the time for thinking," Tony said before closing his lips around him.
Steve set up shop on a street corner—after he grew a beard and found some round sunglasses that Tony told him were 'hippy shades,' and sold street art, sometimes doing caricatures. They stayed a year and a half until Steve decided they should move on—he was twitchy, and they jaunted off.
The seventh place they went was France. Steve spoke creole well and Tony was fluent in French, so they settled in Montpellier. Close enough to the Gulf of Lion to swim frequently and go diving. Close enough to civilisation that they became fast friends with Marie and Elle, neither of which shaved their legs or their armpits, but loved garden parties and good wine.
Luckily, Steve and Tony loved garden parties and good wine. Though Tony was good and abstained with a kind smile and a request for water.
Steve's French was flawless in six months, and Tony had set up a tinker repair shop to keep busy, Steve taking painting lessons from Madame LaRou. She was probably in her 90s, but loved Steve—like all old women, Tony teased, and looked on with pride at his brush strokes.
Tony flailed into wakefulness after two years and eight months.
"What's the matter?" Steve asked, voice rough, still in the habit of waking immediately.
"America!"
"What?"
"Gotta—" Tony vaulted out of their bed and rushed around.
Steve rolled out and grabbed his wrist, pulling him against his chest. "Tony, what's the matter."
"Pepper's had a heart-attack."
"What?"
"I have an alarm set—it'll raise a flag with me if she's hurt or...or..." Tony said miserably.
"Okay. We'll get on a plane and head home. That's...that's what you want to do, right?"
"Yeah. Yeah, let's go..."
Pepper looked old and small in the hospital bed, hair streaked with grey against the pillow.
"Aw, Pepperony..." Tony crooned, petting her hand. She was asleep, and they weren't supposed to be there. But Tony could trick the cameras and they both knew how to sneak somewhere they weren't supposed to be.
After a couple minutes of checking her chart and vitals on the machines, Tony sat back and tried to pull away, but Pepper's grip tightened on his hand. Steve watched her eyelids flutter and her breathing changed to wakefulness.
"T-tony...?"
"Hey, Pep," he said softly.
"Should...known you weren't dead," she said, yawning.
"You're amazing. I should have told you that more often," Tony said, clasping her hand in both of his.
"And you're an ass. But I told you that plenty, so we're even," she said with a quiet smile. "Good to see you, Tony. You too, Cap. Steve. Sorry. Guess you're not him them."
"Glad to see you're okay, Miss Potts."
She sighed. "Haven't changed, I see."
"Mm, not too much," Steve admitted with a shrug. "How are you feeling."
"I'm okay. Are you two back?"
"Nah, just had to see my Pepper-Pot," Tony said.
Steve smiled at the warmth in his voice.
"You should come back," she said, eyes closing again.
"We will. A few days. See how you're doing. We'll go," Tony assured her. "You're tired."
Freeing her hand, Pepper patted his cheek. "Sure, Tony," Pepper replied.
"Promise. Good night." He stood and bent to kiss her temple.
"Good night, Pepper," Steve said quietly. And then they slipped out the door.
Tony let them both into Pepper's place and Steve cleaned while Tony worried a groove into the floor.
"Tony, would you relax?"
"Yeah, well...!" He waved his hands around. "It's... It's hard! She's old!"
Refolding the paper towel, Steve rolled his eyes. "Of course she is, Tony. We've been gone for almost 20 years. People age a lot in 20 years."
"Oh God..." Tony sat heavily on the couch. "She's old, and who's going to take over? She'll be... She'll be gone. Pepper will be gone. What am I gonna do? She'll just be gone and I don't know what to do!"
Steve set the towel down and sat next to Tony, wrapping his arms around him. "Relax. Get some sleep. I'm sure Pepper's found a suitable replacement. It's Pepper. Has she ever let you down?"
"No," Tony said after a few minutes, voice small.
"Right. Then she'll have taken care of it. You can trust her. You can always trust Pepper. You know that."
The tension finally seeped out of him. "You're right. You're right. Okay. I'm fine. No more freaking out." He gave Steve a weak smile.
"Good. Now let's catch some rest, because I'm beat."
"Right. Long flight. Hospitals. Gotcha."
Steve wrapped Tony in his arms and they curled up on Pepper's couch for some rest. They kept house for the next day and a half before returning to Pepper's beside.
"I'm getting released tomorrow."
"Good. That's good," Tony said. "I'm glad to hear it."
"Sure." She smiled. "It's good to see you, Tony. Steve."
"Yeah. Good to see you too. How's business?"
"You should know."
Tony laughed quietly. "Yeah. But... on the inside. How's business."
Pepper rolled her eyes. "I've got everything under control, Tony. Stop butting in."
"I know. I know you do. It's just... Augh... I worry!"
Letting out a fake gasp, Pepper pressed a hand to her chest. "Tony Stark? Worrying? What has happened!"
He glared when Steve laughed and then turned a wounded look on Pepper. "Come on now! You're my oldest—sorry, bad choice of words, best friend! I'm allowed to worry."
"Of course you are. You always have. You've just never admitted it aloud."
"Sure, sure." Tony waved the words away. "Well, we've got to get going. Your place is clean, stocked with food, and whatever."
Pepper grabbed his wrist tightly. "Will you come back?"
"We'll come visit." He stood and kissed her temple, Steve following suit this time as they were on their way out.
The eighth place they went was Canada finally. Tony wanted to stay close in case something happened again so they would easily be able to get back. Way up by Kangiqcliniq on the north end of the Hudson Bay. Tony learned to snow shoe. Steve kept dogs. Tony took up ice fishing, decided it wasn't worth it and invented a machine that fished through the ice for them. Then Namor broke it. So Tony set a trap. Namor tripped it and evaded it. Steve laughed when Tony's attempts got more brazen until the three of them were scuffling on the ice, Tony and Steve in their heavy parkas, beards, and mukluks, Namor in his usual next-to-naked outfit.
Namor, luckily, doesn't figure out who they are, he's just pissed and taking it out on some 'hapless' humans. In the end, Steve and Tony got away, collapsing in front of their fire (in more furs), laughing. They moved down the coast towards Churchill, Steve bringing his dogs, painted the polar bears to sell to stupid tourists, and Tony fixed their gadgets and snow mobiles when they broke down. Tony and Steve learned how to really hunt and trap and fish and play hockey. Steve, of course, is excellent. By the end of two years, Tony could hold his own and had developed a great slap-shot.
The ninth place they went was the Caribbean. Tony was, again, tired of the cold. So they island-hopped in a boat that Tony wheedled off a leather-tough old woman, living on the boat, docking when they needed to, and Tony pulling out the suit to, again, do upgrades and maintenance. He caught Steve's look one time and grinned before the pieces flew onto him and he jetted towards Steve, gripping him, and zooming into the sky.
Steve reprimanded him later that it was careless, but he was breathless and pink-cheeked with joy, so it was kind of a moot point.
Tony attracted dolphins enough for Steve to satisfy his swimming-with-dolphins childhood fantasy. Steve saw more topless-Tony than years previous, and never tired of it. They tanned naked on the deck of the boat until they had no more tan lines.
Then Pepper needed Tony again. She was on her death bed this time, sick. Tony was there with her when she died, Steve waiting outside the room in black jeans and a black t-shirt, looking intimidating in case people got too close. They stayed long enough for the funeral and then disappeared into the heart of Africa and let the world pass by.
Tony occasionally let him know of the deaths of old friends of theirs. But after ten years he stopped—there was either no one left, or Tony just stopped telling him. Steve couldn't say which was worse.
So for the next almost sixty five years—it was hard to keep track when one was in different parts of the world and had no steady clock. Tony could have told him, but Steve didn't want to ask.
So it was from Africa to Norway to Argentina to Mexico to Greenland to China to Spain to Turkey to Iceland to Hawaii to Malaysia to Romania (a mistake) to England to Italy to Alaska.
Which is where they were when they answered their door and a wounded kid fell into their house.
"The fuck...?"
"Tony," Steve reprimanded out of habit.
Tony squatted in front of the kid—in costume. "Who are you?"
"Who are you?" The kid gasps, trying to get to his feet.
"Um, you came to our door. Who the hell are you, kid?"
"Name's..."
"Oh for pity's sake," Tony said, gripping his one arm while nodded to Steve to get the other. They got the kid to a chair, force-fed him some Advil and water and then Tony asked his question again.
"I'm Captain Iron..."
"Who the hell—"
"Tony."
"You're... Captain America and Iron Man...?" The kid stared up at them, eyes a little wild. "Are you? Oh God... I've spent so long... I've been looking..."
"Who. Are. You."
"Wow. Sorry. I'm really sorry." Now the kid can't shut up. "I'm the leader of the Avengers."
"The what?" Steve interrupted.
Tony rolled his eyes. "What do you mean the leader?"
"I'm the leader. We need your help. Please? Please come back. We need Iron Man and Captain America."
The kid doesn't look above begging—he's already half-way there. Steve looked at Tony over the kid's head. "Give us a minute. Relax and calm down,...uh... what's your real name?"
"Ben. Ben Carver. Please come back... We really need your help. Everything's..." His voice broke. "Everything's gone to shit... SHIELD is...well it's gone."
A world without Nick Fury and Maria Hill seemed like a strange thing indeed.
"Relax. We're gonna..." Tony began. "Drink some water and rest a minute. We're gonna talk about it." He was lead out of the room into their small bedroom by Steve where they shared a sigh.
"We need to go, Tony."
"I know."
Steve blinked.
"If things are as bad as he's making them out..." Tony's eyes glazed over and he trailed off, paling. "Oh God..."
"Tony?"
He shook his head. "It's bad," he said lowly, resignation clear in his posture. "We need to go. Everything's falling apart. The mutants, I don't think the Baxter building is even around... Or it might be... Reed and Sue's kids are at the age where they're probably running the show—God, Reed's dead. Sue's... Sue's gone too. Johnny, gone. Fuck, Steve... Fuck. They're all gone."
"Tony..." Steve gripped his shoulders. "Tony, we knew that. We knew that when we left. God, what did we do?"
Tony turned away from him, opening their bedroom door and heading back to the kitchen. "What are your powers, kid?"
The kid jumped, half out of his chair before he was falling over. Steve caught him. The kid flushed. "Thanks. Um... I can turn to iron. It was an accident. I was in the military, and—"
"We don't need the whole back story," Tony said. "We'll help. How'd you get here?"
"There's a plane—"
"Great. We'll meet you back in New York."
The kid sagged in relief and flashed them a grateful smile. "Thank God. You have no idea—"
"Get going. We'll beat you there. Is Avengers Tower still around?" Tony demanded.
"Yeah! Thank you! Thank you so much!"
"Get going," Steve said gently, Tony having disappeared into their room and reappearing with their backpacks.
"I'll fly us, obviously, and brief us about current events. We'll make a stop-over in L.A. to get your gear."
Steve gave him a small sad smile. "Another reason I've always been jealous of how you can carry yours with you..."
Tony shook his head. "Jesus. This... The world's gone to shit without us, Cap."
"Yeah, maybe next time our sabbatical shouldn't be so long."
"Sorry, I just... Pepper... And then..."
"Tony. Stop it. I don't blame you. I never said anything about going back either. We've been... We've been out of the game too long. Both our faults. Now suit up. Let's get going."
Tony's L.A. home was in pristine condition, his suit beyond a plate of glass to keep it in pristine condition. It was even well-oiled and everything. JARVIS welcomed them home, almost cheerfully, not sounding at all surprised that they were alive. Then again... when you program your own AI, how surprised can it be when you turn up almost a century—God, almost a century—later and be just the same.
Steve dressed quickly, paused to see some of the drawings he'd done tacked up in frames on the walls. Lots of walls. He smiled at Tony's not-surprising-anymore-sentimentality and joined his lover on the balcony where he was ready for take off. Tony handed him his shield.
"Hey."
"Ready?"
"When we're done saving the world, we should get married."
Tony gaped at him.
Steve laughed. "We haven't done that yet. I guess I kept meaning to ask."
"Steve Rogers, that is the shitiest proposal I've ever heard!" Tony almost squeaked. He promptly cleared his throat.
"But you're saying 'yes,' right?"
"Damn right I'm saying 'yes.'" Tony grumbled but looped an arm around Steve's waist and shot into the sky towards New York ready to help the old world out once again.