(Hey! peachiebumblebee here! I hope you enjoy, just something that came to me late at night!)
Tony Stark was scared.
He had been scared before, of course. He wasn't inhuman. He had been violently drunk before, choking on vodka flavored bile. He had been a small boy, hiding from the man who was supposed to be his daddy. He had been scared before. But Stark men are made of iron, and that means never feeling it. Don't show how you feel. Be perfect. Be flawless. Show them how high and mighty and untouchable you are, with all the women and all the money and all the brains. Show them that you are a man of iron.
This time, it was different.
As a missile landed at his feet, one bearing his name, he looked up.
There was a woman in black, looking at him gently. A ghost of a smile flashes across her face
Then it explodes, and his world goes back.
When he drifts in and out of consciousness, he sees the woman sitting on the floor, staring at everything and nothing at all.
"Who the fuck are you?" Tony sputters, his chest on fire.
The woman turns, and he notices her eyes hold all the stars.
"I am the end."
He slips out again
The next time he sees her, he is covered in sweat, drinking liquid chlorophyll and pretending everything is fine. She toys with Dum-E, who spills oil around her as she laughs.
"Listen, Hades, the wicked witch, whoever the fuck you are," he pauses, sipping his drink, "leave me alone."
She rises, patting Dum-E on the head as she trots around the shop, tinkering with thousands of dollars of tech.
"Hey-HEY, don't touch that!" She takes her hand off of a missile prototype for Mach 2, and shrugs.
She grabs a little bundle of wire and starts fiddling with it.
"I am death, Tony. Don't play dumb, we both know you're anything but that."
"The last I checked, I was being poisoned by something that wasn't giving me hallucinations, so uh, if this is God's way of telling me to lay off the motor oil fumes, I'll listen." He flaps his arms around in a dramatic manner. The woman pouts her lip. "You don't remember me?"
He puts his head in his hands, and sighs. "Look, i'm sure this is some kinda stressed induced fever dream, something that science can explain, so if you're not gonna strip or entertain me, just leave."
The woman laughs again, the sound filling the room with an echo. "Tony, you're killing me. They used to call you The Merchant of Death after all, you'd think you'd be acquainted."
Tony grimices, leaning over some small gadget. "Yeah, well, plenty of things change."
"Wish I knew what that was like."
"Oh, so death has feelings now? Nice to know." He grumbles, annoyed by her giggling.
"It's no use pretending with me, Tony. I know everything." Death smiles sadly, galaxy eyes softening.
"Like what?"
"How you hope to find me at the end of every bottle, how you hate me yet long for me, like confused teenagers in love. How you carved me into every missile, every bullet, and how you feel me itching around your heart."
Tony doesn't move.
"I guess you're right then."
Death plops onto a table next to Tony, crossing her legs.
"You and I are old friends."
Tony floats somewhere between life and death, the glow of a missile burning his eyes.
He didn't even get to say goodbye to Pepper.
He feels a voice like honey in his ear, making all his muscles relax.
"Not yet, Tony. Not yet."
Something that feels like a warm hand brushes his cheek, even though that's impossible.
"It's all gonna be okay. You got a lot left to do, don't forget that."
Behind her, he sees something.
The next thing he knows, he wakes up to a roar of one very big shrek, and only the ghost of a hand on his cheek.
Fucking Indiana.
Tony sighs, sinking into the snow.
For a moment, the familiar face of Death stands over him, shaking her head.
"Get your ass up Tony, and watch out for some potatoes."
This bitch-
In spite of himself, he laughs.
"I WAS TRYING TO STOP YOU!" Tony shrieks, sweeping clutter off his desk.
Death sits, unblinking. "I know."
"I NEVER- I never meant-" He starts sobbing, hands pressing into his face as he slides down the wall.
"I know you didn't, Tony." Death smiles that sad smile again.
"What do I do?" They both pretend that his voice doesn't crack.
"Fix it."
HELPFUL!
He laughs in between his sobs, all alone in his lab once more.
It's cold.
Why is it so cold?
Tony blinks his swollen eyes, gasping in frigid air. Everything floods back in a heartbeat.
He's my friend.
So was I.
Tears slip down his face as his body shutters against the suit.
A hand holds his.
"Tony."
His sobs become bigger. Everything hurts. His head swims, and his chest aches, and oh god his legs feel like they've been torn off. But his heart hurts the most. Not Steve. Not the man who was his idol, the one he dressed up as for halloween, not the man he had joked with and saved people with and grown to love. Steve wouldn't lie to him. Steve couldn't lie to him. But he had.
"Well? Is it time?" Tony sobs out, eyes squeezing shut as tears and snot run down his face.
"No."
Tony just cries.
Death cries too.
"This won't hurt so bad soon, I promise. I promise, Tony."
"Don't say that!" He chokes out. "Don't tell me things that aren't true! It always hurts. IT ALWAYS HURTS!"
"Oh, but it's true. Things get better; be around to see it. You've got so much more to do, Tony."
He hears voices in the distance, calling for him.
"I'm proud of you."
And with a squeeze of his hand, he's alone."
"WHERE ARE YOU?" He screams on an empty battlefield, holding his son's ashes. Not the kid, not the boy with the big smile and curly hair and endless energy who was his kid, his spiderling. He wasn't even supposed to be here.
"WHERE ARE YOU, YOU SON OF A BITCH?" He cries into the wind. "WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?"
Death wasn't present, because no one was dying.
No one was dead.
He stares at the endless stars, the one that reminds him of her eyes.
And then she blinks at him, smiling that same old sad smile, the one that knows too much.
"You and I gotta stop meeting, Tony."
He cracks a half smile. "Then stop doing this to me, sweetheart."
He closes his eyes, the grief of Peter washing over him.
"He's not dead, Tony."
He weakly turns back, sunken eyes widening. "What?"
"I was nowhere near him. He's not dead."
She laughs, a few shimmery tears gliding down her cheeks.
"He's not dead."
A woman of fire floats in front of him out the window, and Death is done.
As Tony finds out time travel, Death sits on the counter, eating a juice pop.
"Now get him back, Tony."
They make eye contact as Death slurps her popsicle.
"You know I will."
"And I am Iron Man."
There's no pain.
No feeling.
Peter is crying.
No, don't cry kid. It's all okay.
And Pepper is there.
His Pepper is kissing his cheek, and she's sad.
Don't be sad, baby. There's nothing to be sad about, I'm right here!
"You can rest now."
Death is hugging him, her embrace warm.
"You did it Tony."
"I did?"
"You can let go now."
Tony pulls back for a moment, staring into her eyes that hold millions of stars, trillions of galaxies.
"Will it hurt?"
Death laughs softly and shakes her head. "I promise it won't."
"Will they be okay?" He thinks of Pepper, and Morgan, sweet little Morgana who he loves 3000, and his other kids, Peter, and Happy, and Rhodey, and even Steve. Even Steve.
"They will."
And as Tony smiles, he kisses her cheek.
His eyes fix on everything and nothing, and for a moment, just a moment, they hold the stars.
'Natasha?"