"Tony?" Steve approaches his husband slowly. The air around them smells of ozone and hot metal. He'd been teleported by Wong, who stood off to the side trying to provide a modicum of privacy.
Tony is knee deep in the dirt. His hands are enmeshed in ash, his expression perplexed and confused. His suit has apparently taken a beating, its shiny metal dulled til no shine was visible. Tony's cheeks are streaked with tears, but he's silent as he digs his hands more in-depth into the dust.
When Rhodey had told him about Peter, Steve had nodded and turned away. He walked about 20 yards and vomited into the dirt. He'd stood gasping, wiping his mouth, and tears in his eyes until Wong had appeared to bring him here.
He blanked out the thought. Focus on the now.
He laid eyes on his estranged husband, making no sudden movements. He crept forward with one hand slightly extended. He felt empty and hollow. Tired in ways that he'd never imagined.
He reached for Tony's shoulder tentatively, not gripping his shoulder, but letting him know he was there. He searched the face for anger or fear, but Tony's eyes were oddly blank. The scientist looked at the ground like it was a puzzle he'd yet not figured out. He repeatedly opened and squeezed his hands, grasping, watching the ash rise and fall into his hands.
Steve fought back another wave of helpless remorse and choked back his sob. His stomach rolled again, and he closed his eyes fighting for breath to calm down. Steve could do this. He could do this. He needed to do this.
"I had him in my arms."
Steve's eyes snapped open to find Tony watching him. His eyes brimmed with unshed tears and he took a heaving breath.
Steve wasn't sure what he'd expected for their first meeting. Maybe anger. A huge fight where they battled each other to death, or a hug and forgiveness with his husband and son. He'd imagined so many different scenarios, each of them more dramatic than the last. But this. This outcome he had never considered.
Tony grabbed his shoulders in his arms, fingers digging deeply into the bone. The ash covering his hands bled off onto Steve's shoulders where he gripped.
"Our baby," he whispered. "He took our baby." His hands began to shake on Steve's shoulders.
This was so much worse than anything he could have imagined.
Steve slid his own hands up and cupped the dirty face before him. The face was so familiar. He'd seen it full of anger, laughter, sadness. In Passion. The day they'd brought their son home so full of hope and happiness.
But the brown eyes he adored, the ones he'd dreamed of looking into again, were eyes were filled with misery and terror. Steve ran a soothing thumb across his husband's jaw.
"I tried. Oh, Jesus. I tried to save him," Tony gasped. His breath was ragged, his lips tinged with blood.
"I tried. I didn't know what to do…"
"I know, baby. I know," Steve said, leaning his forehead against Tony's. But the movement didn't seem to soothe him, so he placed a soft kiss on his forehead and pulled him forward into his arms. Tony slumped and buried his hands in his neck.
"He was in my hands, Steve. In my hands and he slipped away," Tony said, his voice hoarse and tired. Steve pulled him in even tighter, wishing for anything else. Trade his own life for his son's.
Tony began to cry in earnest at that point. He sobbed, clutching Steve's shirt in his fists. He buried even deeper as sobs wracked his body. Steve could feel tears and taste the blood in the air. His son…their son.
"Shhhh. Shhhh…" Steve said and began to rise, pulling him with him. Tony seemed unable to support his weight, leaning entirely on Steve.
Steve lifted his husband into his arms and pressed his lips gently against his temple. It was the least he could do. The very least he could do. Peter would want him to be strong for Tony. Peter would…focus on the now. He breathed deeply of his husband's scent and ignored the lingering smell of his son.