open | april/may catch-all

[industries]

WHO: Tony Stark & you
WHAT: April catch-all for open, planned, & future threads
WHERE: Free Cities - Cadens & Desert Outpost
WHEN: 4/05 - 4/30
WARNINGS: None yet.

NOTES: Although he left his world emaciated and malnourished from months adrift in space, Tony's body was rejuvenated to its normal state by the healing powers of being pulled to Abraxas. TL;DR he looks like his normal self, except more depressed.

▶ i. we are not soldiers
    Cadens Desert Outpost 003 - Wagon | Apr. 6
    [ open ]

[ The last wagon to Cadens only has a couple of seats left when its wheels finally roll and crunch against the sandy road. ]

Hey! [ The shout comes from the right side of the departure area, in the general direction of the barracks. The driver reins in the horses and a middle-aged man jogs up to the wagon, a standard issue knapsack slung over his shoulder. ] One more for – yeah, okay. [ He squeezes in, past a particularly miffed soldier. ] Uh, Private Pyle? 'Scuse me? Thanks.

[ The man drops into the empty seat across from you and sinks into it with a long, slow breath. Judging from his plain fatigues and lack of epaulets, he looks to be a newly-arrived Summoned, though he at least appears to have taken the time to trim his facial hair into a neat goatee. Although his eyes roam cooly across the passenger area, the white-knuckled grip on his knapsack's strap betrays the kind of sharp anxiety common to Abraxas' newcomers – and perhaps something more.

His eyes flit up to you as the horses whinny and the wagon rolls forward again. He frowns. ]

What. Not a Kubrick fan? [He rolls his eyes.] What am I talking about, "Arrival of a Train" is probably peak entertainment here.

▶ ii. we won, mr. stark
    Cadens - Mag's Inn | Apr. 7
    [ open + planned: peter, nadine ]

[ It's only when he sits down at the inn table that he lets himself breathe.

Okay. Okay.

Step completed, box checked off. He drags a hand down his chin, then splays that hand on the table, feels the wood-grain of its surface, old and polished from years of use. It feels real. Has heft, and tactility, enough to tell the mechanoreceptors in his fingertips and the neurons in his thalamus that he's here. This is real. But that doesn't mean they couldn't be lying to him, because how-

Last thing he remembers, with relative clarity, is Steve Rogers' face. The rage rising up his throat, boiling over, barely standing, shaking. The arc reactor in his hand. Liar.

The last thing he remembers, with more bleary haze, is light streaming through glass windows, Pepper's hand over his. Slowly blinking at her face, her creased brow. The answer to a dozen sleepless nights on the Benatar: Alive.

Then – floating in water. And he was here – healthy again, and away from home... again. In... what? A glorified steampunk convention? Las Vegas' most dedicated LARPer club? He'd kind of hoped so, until the outpost wagon neared a city out of some YA fantasy and kicked him to the curb.

He closes his eyes and rubs his hands over his face. Footsteps approach the table.]

Not hungry – starved for a month on a spaceship, you know how it goes – hey, [ he presses the back of his thumb against his eye, ] so I heard you guys do a care package?

▶ iii. wildcard
    [ open + planned: sam ]

Keeping to two prompts for now since I'm not sure if Tony's going to find out... certain information.

Regardless! If you're jonesing to thread something in particular with Tony, please don't hesitate to drop it here! Also feel free to hit me up at LaCidiana, DM me, or PM this journal if you want to ask about anything. ♥

Comments

[industries]

[ You killed him.

It washes over Tony in waves. Memories accost him – sand in his mouth, sun in his eyes, shards of metal as they rip from his arm, his face, his chest. He wills particles across his hands and fingertips, sharpens them to a fine nanometric edge. He lunges for the heart, and he–

He fails. The monster from the stars grips his arm like he's a child, and then he knows pain, and tastes blood, and he fails. ]

I... I didn't, [ he mutters. But the water's already on the kettle, over open flame. It's getting warm. He's getting warm, and it's on his face. Gears turn with frenetic speed.

Sam Wilson's big brown eyes look back at him. We're in the endgame now. Peter's weary smile. He's aged. I'm fine, Tony had told him. Hey – don't worry. ]

Strange needed me alive. [ Billions of futures, but they only win in one. Math calculated out to excruciating odds – Cardinality of the Continuum meets Schrödinger's timeline, and can be neither proved nor disproved. But if you stack in its favor – plug in the right numbers, give up a coefficient to ensure the crucial operator stays in the equation, then–

I'm sorry, Stark.

Then you can solve for the remainder. ]

Okay. [ Tony shuts his eyes. Leans back in his chair. Drags his hands up and down his face. ] We win. We get everyone back. Okay.

[ His hands slide down his jaw and into his lap. He stares at a grain in the table. ]

How long do I have?

[falcony]

[ it is a strange experience, feeling as though he can see the cogs of tony stark's brain working. sam's not sure what it is its doing, what pieces are coming together or what horrors he might be reliving, so instead of trying to offer anything else in the way of clarifications or reassurances, sam just. waits.

and maybe that isn't the right move, because tony says i didn't and then his expression heats. he says strange needed me alive and sam remembers the feeling of finding strange in the horizon that second time, of stepping into the sanctum with tony stark, in all his anger, in all his rage. he'd felt ten steps behind in that moment and now, just as uncomfortably, he feels five steps ahead. five steps too many, five steps too far.

something crosses tony's face, then, and sam's brows lift minutely. just for a moment. still waiting. but then it hits, an impossible object colliding with solid ground, and tony says okay. sam lets out a breath then, too, as tony leans back in his chair. as he repeats himself, all of that usual confidence and intelligence and tony stark-ness gone, and sam can only nod. can only let the moment linger. he doesn't bother with platitudes, doesn't reach over and set his hand on tony's shoulder, doesn't tell him it'll be okay. they didn't have that relationship before, and for some reason sam doubts tony would appreciate it now.

at the question, sam's eyes go to his own drink. to the liquor inside to mug. ]

If you're from where I think you are- [ because it's not right after the snap, tony stark was adrift in space for weeks, lost, before danvers found him. but sam didn't memorize those details, doesn't know exactly how long, or when he fought with steve. but generally speaking, because that's all he can really work with now, sam lets out a breath. ] Depends on how long you stick around this place. Could be weeks, months. I've been here almost a year now, so- [ oh, ouch, somehow that reminder still feels like something sharp caught in his chest. still, sam shrugs, pushes on. ]

But once you're back, if you go back - about five years.

[industries]

[ Tony barely hears Sam's words over the blood pounding through his ears. His fingers twitch against his knee. His eyes stay fixed on the same spot of woodgrain. What is this, anyway – maple?

He's going to die.

He sucks in a breath. He's going to die. He thinks of silver lines under his skin, of a star-strewn tear through New York's sky, of a disc of metal held high over his skull, of a jagged shard through his side. Of projectiles, explosions, concussions, broken bones, of his eyelids feeling heavy as he looked out at infinite specks in the dark. "You're going to get yourself killed," Pepper said, every time. He's always believed her.

"What if we could quit?" he'd asked Bruce, and then someone else. "What if we could go home?"

He balls his hand into a fist and presses it to his mouth. They get everyone back. Sam didn't correct him, so that means they do. Tony kills the bastard. They win. His brain plays catch-up with his ears, takes disconnected stock of measurements in time. Weeks. Month. A year. Five– ]

Five? [ He raises his gaze to meet Sam's, slow. There's a crease in his brow, half confusion, half horror. ] How...

[ The crucial operator. The remainder. Everything hinges on him, which means... ]

Are you saying... you all stay gone for five years?

[falcony]

[ sam is patient, though of course he is. what else are you supposed to be as you watch someone learn about their death? when tony doesn't respond at first, sam does look back to him, and upon seeing...well. upon seeing the crisis that tony goes through, the things he remembers, the thoughts he's had.

there's a tightening in sam's own chest, because what else is he supposed to do? he can't exactly reach across and grab tony's hand. can't tell him it'll be okay or we'll fix this. there's nothing to fix. sam might not be doctor strange, might not understand the multiverse or timelines or whatever else goes into this, but he can speak his truth. the only truth he knows.

and so rather than trying to comfort tony stark, someone who sam knows better in reference (through steve) or in shadow (through rhodey) than the actual man who sits across from him, he simply waits. simply gives him time to process as best he can.

because tony stark will die, bringing everyone back from the snap, and the world will go on. changed, always. changed, forever, but it will go on.

sam's eyes are still on tony when he finally does look up, and the crease in the other man's brows has sam lifting his own, curious, unsure of exactly what rabbit hole tony's mind has gone down. it's not until the question hits that sam gets it, and he lets out a breath. ]

'Stay' gone isn't the word I'd use, but yeah. It takes about five years for Tiktack to find his way out of the uh- [ sam snaps, trying to remember the term for it. ] 'Quantum realm' or wherever he was. And when he does, he brings the whole idea of time travel into the conversation. Look, Stark- [ a beat, and then sam shifts in the chair - leans a bit more forward onto the table. he doesn't want to lie, he doesn't, but he's getting a feeling that the more they talk about this, the more tony's going to pick it apart. think about it. and he has a bad feeling about that path. ]

I don't know what all I should or shouldn't be saying here. We all know time is... [ complicated, weird, different. sam decides not to pick and just keeps moving. ] And if you really do want to know, I made my decision not to keep this sorta stuff from people. Anyone. Hell- when the kid first showed up, the last thing he remembered was being on that ship with you, before... [ well, before everything.

and maybe, in a few days time, sam will think back on how many people he's had to watch process tony stark's death. it's only been two, sure, but he hopes the fact one of them is tony stark will be enough to break the pattern. he looks down to his drink, to tony's sitting untouched still on the table. ] But it's not going to change anything. Least- not from what I've seen. I'll answer whatever question you have, but you should know that.

[industries]

Okay, I. Have no idea who Ticktack is, [ Tony cuts in, with annoyed, muttered levity. A few rapid blinks and – okay. He's strapped back into the rollercoaster at 90 miles an hour, with all its sharp angles, drops, freefalls in space. Quantum realm. Time travel. Okay? He opens his mouth and closes it, tries to find a single word to answer the utter lunacy-slash-mindblowing-implications laid in front of him, tries to wrap his head around the fact that the secondary – tertiary piece of information here is that he is going to die, when–

Wilson leans forward. There's a look in his eyes, intense, weirdly familiar in a way that seeps into Tony's bones, shuts him up, makes his thoughts stop short as he sits there. Listens.

It's annoying – what happens when you give Steve two whole years to rub off on someone.

Sam's words hang, slow and steady, in the silence. Someone strides down the hall outside. Floorboards squeak. Tony realizes his thumb has been playing an anxious game against his lower jaw and he drops it to the table. Drums his fingers. ]

Sam. [ He pauses for emphasis. Makes sudden, fierce eye contact ] I'm only going to say this once, so I want you to listen very carefully.

[ Pause. ]

Tell me everything. Literally – everything. Because you're right – I know I'm gonna die, so that's already, uhm, three paradoxes at least, and I don't see either of us singing Johnny B. Good as my arm fades away, so just. Spill it. Everything.

[falcony]

[ the way tony looks back at him - his eyes fierce, his jaw set - stills something in sam. because it feels a bit like a reminder, like a photograph into an era long since gone for sam. of the tony stark who is iron man. who built avengers tower. who held the stones in his hand and saved the universe.

tell me everything he says, and sam sits back. it's not far, he hadn't leaned that far forward to begin with, and he nods. tony stark is, and probably always will be, the smartest person sam has ever known. he can make his own decisions where it concerns paradoxes and time. and if he wants to hear everything, sam will tell him everything.

and he does. or at least - he tries to. everything that sam wilson knew, everything sam wilson read in files or heard from reports or saw on the news. he'll answer some questions, here and there - quick one offs before he continues the larger explanation. before he brings up morgan. pepper. his family. where the world went, after everyone returned, where's it's going, what sam's more worried about than anything. he fills up his glass, drinks through it, and refills it again, because the course sam takes is the longer one.

and not all of it is bad - there are some funny anecdotes in there, some more interesting moments. rhodey, and how well he's doing. pepper, and how she's still running everything. things sam doesn't really have a direct line into, necessarily, but also things sam hasn't talked to pretty much anyone about in over a year. it feels like longer in some ways, and like no time at all in others.

how they get to the couch, sam's not sure, but he is glad for it if only because it's more comfortable. he's feeling loser, probably more than just a little drunk, as he finishes up as best he can. as the truth of it settles around them.

( steve, who put the stones where they found them. steve, who didn't come back. ) ]

So...yeah. You're looking at the new Captain America. [ there isn't exactly...pride, in that. or excitement. but there also isn't negativity associated either. more - this is serious, he knows it is serious, and it wasn't an easy road to get here.

sam lifts his cup, a mock cheers. ]

[industries]

[ Tony's melted halfway into the couch cushions, one arm draped over the armrest, fingers loosely gripped around a half-filled glass. His eyes drift over his own feet, propped up on the edge of Sam's makeshift coffee table, to the near-empty bottle beside them. ]

I mean. [ It's only from years of experience with this particular vice that his enunciation remains clear as he raises his glass to his lips and takes another swig. He considers, twists his mouth. ] At least you're not a dad.

[ A dad.

He remembers that day, in Central Park, his joking tone, and Pep's rolling eyes. It felt so real. Sam's dropped a megaton of TNT in his lap – triumph and loss, love and death. A world on the brink, and the heroes who brought it back, by bending the very laws of time. But – maybe it's because Sam has to recount most of it second-hand or maybe it's something else, but all of it seems – distant. Faraway, in the face of the one thing that sticks to him, to his heart, to the inside of his ribs.

They make a family. They raise a daughter. Her name is Morgan. She's beautiful – Sam doesn't tell him that, but he doesn't have to.

Tony will never see her grow up.

His head swims. He drinks again. He turns to look at Wilson, through the slight haze that stands as a bulwark between him and the abyss below, that allows him to think, to function, to not break down in a strange world, in a strange city, on the couch of a complicated friend.

He inhales. There's a kind of conflict playing across Sam's face, and if Tony knows anything, it's that other people's problems are easier to face than his own. ]

Anyway, you sound. Excited. [ He squints, gestures with his glass. ] Lemme guess – having trouble memorizing My Country 'Tis of Thee? God Bless America? Star-Spangled Banner – I hear they really ding you on the "rocket's red glare" high notes.

[falcony]

[ at least you're not a dad.

tony doesn't say it with any malice, but sam does still feel the innate urge to wince. for a brief moment, sam reconsiders his whole approach to this. whether or not it's a good idea, whether h made the right decision. it's so much easier when it's in the field, when there isn't time to rethink and overthink and be worried. but people, people's lives, sam can't help but think that this wasn't the way to go.

but it's too late now, so sam just sort of. lets that comment sit for a moment. because tony isn't wrong - it is distant. sam didn't exist for most of it, and everything he now knows has come from reports and very few first hand accounts. for all that happened and all he relays, he wasn't there for any of it. or, at least, wasn't there for most of it. and the person he would have taken the best report from, the closest recollection, left him behind in it too.

they both sort of sit in that silence for a few moments, each weighing their own realities. trying to sort through what it means. sam is just drunk enough to feel the loss of all of it - all of it. tony, who is sitting right next to tim. nat, who might show up any day now or sam might never see again. steve, who he's already seen here once, then lost again. he takes another sip, follows the burn of it for something tangible. but that also means he's a little distracted when tony turns the attention back onto him.

sam blinks, then sits up a little, shaking his head. it's telling just how drunk he is that he needs a moment to figure out if this is tony's way of compartmentalizing, if he just needs to talk about something else, or if sam's being an ass and just fully moving passed the extensive trauma tony stark is once again going through. ]

Don't get me wrong- the new Wakandan suit is pretty sick. And I look damn good in it. Just feels kind of weird, still. You won't see Rhodey going by Iron Man any time soon.

[ sam does wince at that, if only because...yeah. they're all kind of fucked, aren't they? ] Sorry.