Whumptober, Day 31: Showdown
This isn’t how he imagined his day was gonna go. He literally just wanted to go on a gentle jog with Pepper, maybe see if the kid wanted to come to the compound after his trip to MOMA.
Tony dodges a giant blast from the way too tall, giant purple grape fucker who’s been stuck in his head for the past 6 years. Thanos. The little bitch who caused New York. The one who screwed over his mental state single handedly.
The fucker who’s got four of the six infinity stones, according to Strange. The strongest being in the universe.
He’s scared. He’s terrified. He can hardly think straight. His head’s a mess, just staring at the unapologetic face of a mad man. A murderer. The creature who is gonna kill half the universe if they don’t make a stand now.
He sees Peter get chucked roughly, and roll to a halt before bouncing back up.
And that’s another thing entirely. Tony’s throat is dry, and he can feel every single heartbeat in his throat. The kid skipped his trip when the donut ship appeared over New York. He’s in so, so much danger. More than Toomes. More than the torture-doctor, or anything he’s seen in the time he’s known the kid.
Every protective dad instinct in his chest is screaming. His kid is in the same mortal peril he’s in. The same peril the entire universe is in.
Put simply, Tony can’t breathe. He’s so scared.
Thanos is the monster that’s been haunting him for years. The creature who’s been lurking behind his every thought, driving every self-destructive behaviour in his wild attempts to try and stave off the inevitable. Thanos has arrived. He’s waging his war against the universe so he can erase half of it, apparently.
And he’s here with the ragtag space team, a wizard, his kid and himself.
The grape is beating them all, easily. Not for lack of effort, obviously — they’re working together as best they can, here. Strange delivers his attacks while supporting others. Peter works as a distraction and a heavy-hitter, knocking Thanos back with hits worthy of something Hulk-sized.
His kid’s quite the hero when he’s not tripping flat on his face.
And then Thanos turns around as the kid launches himself out of one of Strange’s portals.
Grabs the kid by the throat.
Slams him into the ground, hard enough to crack it.
The only thing that stops Tony from trying to end the grape right there, right then, is the fact that Peter is still squirming in his grip and Thanos could end his kid so easily right now.
The prune picks up his kid — by the throat, Tony’s gonna either chuck up or slam the raisin’s head into the fucking floor — and chucks him to the side like he’s nothing.
But he can’t abandon his crazy teammates to fight this guy alone.
Despite how goddamn desperate he is to swoop in and protect his kid, he’s trained Peter. He knows the kid can handle himself, and is more than capable of holding his own (as much as one can when fighting a fucking grape), so he stays where he is and continues dishing out attacks.
The dance continues, and it’s hard to think when the odds are this high. It’s hard to think when the universe is hanging in the balance.
Through what feels like an eternity of effort, they’re offered an opening.
Strange has Thanos’ arm, the one with the gauntlet, trapped. Drax kicks his legs out, sending the Titan to his knees. Quill immobilises the other arm. Peter swings in, webs Thanos’ chest, and is pulling as hard as he can against the Titan’s thrashing. He’s struggling. They all are. But ultimately, they’ve got the grape immobilised long enough for Strange to drop the bug girl — Mantis? — on Thanos’ head, effectively rendering him useless. It’s hard on her, though. Tony can see it in the creases on her face, the war on her expression. They have to hurry.
Even when he calls Peter over — the kid’s winded and obviously running outta steam — to pull of the gauntlet, the damn thing is basically glued on.
And then it all goes to shit.
He doesn’t understand what Mantis means about Thanos ‘mourning’ (how could such a monster even have a heart?) or why Quill suddenly freezes up, but he knows the reaction. It’s him in Siberia, watching that footage. It’s the exact same thing.
Thanos took something from Quill. Tony yells out something to the man, anything, ‘cause Peter’s nearly got the gauntlet off and they’re so close and-
Quill punches Thanos. Mantis lets go. Thanos comes back to quickly, and knocks out the girl and rips the gauntlet back into his grasp — they failed — , sending his kid to the floor. Thanos throws Mantis, and he only just catches Peter’s quiet ‘oh, god’ before he’s leaping after her.
He can only watch as the Iron Spider suit’s legs form a protective cage around Peter and Mantis. Good. At least they’re safe and at a distance — this battle, the real one? It’s six years in the making, and it’s between him and that raisin-fucker.
But now everything’s gone to hell, and the universe is in the balance again.
Desperation sours Tony’s chest as Thanos quickly takes out each and every person on the field with brute efficiency.
Maybe they can’t win this one.
He launches himself towards Thanos, nanotech blade in hand, and starts attacking with desperation, determination, pain and shock sitting heavily in his chest. It’s hard to keep up with the Titan’s movements.
He gets swatted down again; the blade shatters and he scrabbles to get his feet under him again.
Thanos is using the gauntlet.
His chest goes cold at the sight of two gems — space, power? — lighting up within the gauntlet, and then the entire fucking moon is heading towards him.
He does what he can to evade the fragments, but ends up being swiftly pinned.
He can’t breathe. Well, he can, but he’s literally trapped between a moon and a hard place and he’s got so much panic sat in his chest and oh, god, this fight is it, this fight is it, this is what he’s been preparing for since New York, this is what he wanted Ultron to fend off, this is why the Avengers broke up.
Between his emotions and the moon on his back, Tony can’t breathe.
This is what Peter had to go through under the building. The darkness, the pressure, the knowledge that you should be dead but you aren’t… it’s a fucking horror show.
Maybe he should take a page from his kid’s book.
He’s not stuck. That’s not who he is.
And he remembers. Maybe for the first time in years, he remembers what’s at his very core. He’s Tony fucking Stark. He’s built himself up from ruins, from shards, and each fucker who tries to knock him down never succeeds in their job.
He won’t give up. He’s got a family to save and return to.
It’s difficult, but he manages it. Tony lets the suit discharge quite easily the most powerful repulsor blast he’s managed so far nearly vapourise the rubble pinning him.
By the time he’s freed, Thanos has Strange pinned in a choking grip, and he’s holding the weird necklace. Is he too late…?
Thanos crushes it. Nothing happens. Crumpled metal falls to the floor. Strange is chucked (hard) to the side. He doesn’t get back up, but Tony has a gut feeling that he won’t stay down.
“FRIDAY, stop him from closing his fist.”
And the ‘package’ is delivered, effectively preventing Thanos from doing anything too drastic. Tony makes sure to make his landing emphasise just how fucked off he is.
“You throw another moon at me… and I’m gonna lose it.” He’s breathing hard, having only just avoided an anxiety attack just then. How the kid did it…
“I do. You’re not the only one cursed with knowledge.”
Tony grits his teeth. “My only curse is you.”
The neural interface between himself and the suit works stunningly. Mini-missiles, lots of them, instantly make their journey towards Thanos, and while Tony knows they won’t do much to kill him, they’ll hopefully slow him down, buy him some time to regroup.
He needs to make sure everyone’s alive. He needs to make sure Peter is alive and safe.
Loathe as he is to call favourites, Peter is definitely, 100% without a doubt his number one priority right now. When there’s a genocidial maniac on the loose, his priorities become a little more family oriented, apparently.
Tony throws himself towards Thanos when the missiles do nothing, making sure the thrusters are pushing him forward as hard as possible. Then he does the same when punching the Titan backwards into a nearby mound of rubble. Thanos doesn’t slow down.
His helmet is torn off. He blinks, shocked, before willing another to take its place. He’s punched into the floor. He can’t stop, though. He hears a shattering that means the only thing stopping Thanos from snapping is gone, and pushes himself upright as quickly as possible-
The purple beam of energy rushes towards him so fast, he thinks of the only thing that could have saved him in the past.
He doesn’t think about the man behind it, he just leans forward using all his strength to stop himself from being killed.
FRIDAY is measuring the energy readings of the incoming energy — it’s decreasing. Which means-
The purple lets up. Tony throws himself forward; eagerly delivers the hardest roundhouse kick he can. The suit keeps the gauntlet pinned to the ground.
He can feel stares on him. The readings from the Iron Spider show steady vital outputs (Peter is fine. He’s never been so relieved), so he keeps his mind on the task at hand.
Thanos visibly recoils at his next hit, hand coming up to where Tony hit. He’s not smug. He’s not smug-
He’s fucking proud. The fucker’s bleeding. He’s not immortal.
If you can make god bleed, people will cease to believe in him.
“All that for a drop of blood.”
He’s thrown — seriously, what’s this guy’s deal with throwing people? — backwards before he can stop it, and it’s followed up with hits coming in succession too rapid to defend against. How can such a huge thing move so fast…?
The real icing on the cake is when he’s punched, in the chest, by the power stone and chucked a few meters away.
Tony groans. At least he’s taking this. He’s got the armour. He doesn’t even want to think about what would happen if someone else tried taking these hits.
Tony dials up the repulsor strength as Thanos walks towards him, even having to divert nanotech from his legs to his arms to do it in the first place. He won’t be able to keep this up much longer; he’s running out of nanobots.
Thanos swings a hulking fist at him. Tony only just blocks. Thanos does it again, and Tony blocks with one arm.
Thanos has left himself open.
He diverts more nanotech from the rest of his body to his arm, forming the same blade from earlier. C’mon, c’mon. Thanos doesn’t look like he’s expecting it.
He thrusts the blade forward.
His chest goes cold as it’s snapped from the rest of his armour, and it looks so frail in that massive, purple hand that he’s almost ashamed to think it’d work in the first place.
He doesn’t have the kid’s spidey-sense. But he’s not an idiot.
Tony doesn’t have time to so much as try to dodge before the weapon is thrusted through his core.
Clean through, from what it feels like.
Tony grasps at the Titan’s bicep for support, anything to stop himself from falling over.
He’s been impaled by his own blade.
He can hear Peter yelling in the distance. He can feel his chest lurching up and down in his panic. Thanos is so close to him. He’s repulsed.
He can’t help but let out the pained noises. It’s agony. The worst pain he’s ever been in. Worse than having heart surgery without anaesthesia.
He can feel the nanotech blade inside him. Tony coughs some blood out onto his lips, down his shirt. Thanos’ hand — and the gauntlet, so tantalisingly close, and so far away from being removed — is the only thing keeping his head upright.
“You have my respect, Stark.”
I don’t want your respect. I want you to die and go away.
“When I’m done, half of humanity will still be alive. I hope they remember you.”
He thinks it can’t get any worse. Sure, he’s probably gonna die here, guessing from the way Thanos’ fist is raised and all four stones are alight — he’s gonna be ripped to shreds, blasted clean out of existence. Oh god, if Peter sees that… (suddenly, he realises he doesn’t want to die here) — but Strange said he won’t give the stone up for him and that’s good. Even if he dies, the universe will live.
Or so he fucking thought.
“Spare his life, and I will give you the stone.”
No. No no no no no. Not even Strange could make such a stupid decision — he’s a dead man.
“No tricks.” Tony watches, horrified, as Strange shakes his head.
“Don’t.” Is all he can manage. It’s not enough.
Strange reveals the stone, bright green and almost pulsing. Like it’s alive. In a strange way, it’s beautiful. Should he feel connected to it, or is it just the fact that he’s bleeding into every internal cavity he’s got? Tony’s chest is cold but his core is aflame. No. It floats over to the Mad Titan slowly, like it’s taunting Tony.
He’s failed. Tony gasps and sucks in each breath like it’s a challenge.
No! Why?! You said you’d let me die for that stone. What the fuck are you doing?!
Tony can only watch on in horror as Thanos drops the stone into his gauntlet.
There’s a noise, gunfire — Quill — and then Thanos steps back into a portal and is gone from Titan. To Earth. To collect the last stone.
“Where is he?!” Tony can’t answer. He’s completely numb when he uses his nanotech to plug the gaping wound in his side. He should be feeling pain, but he’s not. He’s not because the universe just got fucked over for him.
Yes. He wants to blame it on Quill, but he can’t. He would never. Not after Siberia, not even before that. Quill just lost his love… if Thanos killed Pepper… he’d do the same.
But that’s not what he’s numb about. He looks at Strange.
“We’re in the endgame now.”
Not until you decided we were. Why didn’t you let me die?
Peter jogs over to him. Tony can see just by the way he carries himself that he’s hurt too, but the kid’s put on a brave face for him. His chest throbs.
That might just be the stab wound in his side, though.
“Mr. Stark! Oh, my god, hold on-” Tony grasps the hand Peter offers him, grunting in pain as he pulls himself upright. His chest is in agony.
Peter looks so, so scared. He’s staring at the wound, eyes wide and glassy. Tony tried to convey with his eyes that it’s fine, it’s not as bad as it looks, even though it is.
He has to get the kid home. They need to get to Earth. They’ve lost the battle on the Titan front. They have to get to Earth before Thanos can-
“Something’s happening.” Tony jolts. The girl — Mantis —. Her voice is terrified. Confused. The other Guardians turn to face her. She’s an empath, right? Something’s-
He can feel the pure horror running through his veins as he watches Mantis crumble into ashes, and disappear. It’s so quick he hardly has the chance to get a breath lodged in his throat as it happens.
Where there was once a living being, now stands a pile of ashes, quickly being swept away by the wind.
No. No. Nonono. They’re too late. Thanos- he’s done it. The dust-
Half the universe is dying.
He could be dying. Rhodey, Happy, Pepper, Peter, Helen, May, Ned, MJ, his work-family at the compound. They could all be dying. None of them could be dying.
Half of them are going to die.
Tony’s breath picks up, and his terror probably shows on his face.
Quill’s face is horrified. He can’t speak. He just looks at his side, where she used to be (he’s lost his loved one and a close friend, he’s gonna lose everything).
“What just- Mr. Stark- I’m scared. What’s happening?” Peter’s grip on his arm —
Like when the kid got that really bad concussion from the car crash and only responded to contact. Peter trying to keep hold of Tony because he was scared of being pinned by the car.
— is like that of a scared child, clinging to their parent. Tony can’t respond immediately. When he does, the words feel thick and unnatural.
“I don’t know, kid.” The throbbing pain in his abdomen has been buried by now. Everything’s gonna end here. This was the endgame.
Then we’ll do that together, too.
“Quill?” He looks sharply over to Drax. The alien’s eyes are wide. Almost scared. Confused, definitely.
Tony’s heart is flying by now.
The dust creeps across Drax, spreading quickly until-
He’s gone as well. The air feels too heavy to breathe, like it’s laced with concrete dust. He feels sick. Tony looks over to Peter — he looks like he wants to pass out, or cry. Tony can’t blame him. Quill’s shaking now, only just.
“Steady, Quill.” The words are plastic in his mouth. The guy stumbles again; stares Tony dead in the face. His eyes are losing their light rapidly. Tony’s chest turns cold within seconds, because he can see the other man giving up.
(The worst part is that the light completely left Quill’s eyes before the dust overtook them.)
Peter’s clutching at his hand, and he releases it suddenly to move to a side.
Tony turns himself around.
Strange. Oh god, not him too. Not everyone. Please.
Peter left his grip to try to help the man. The kid thinks he can save them. But Tony can see it in Peter’s eyes, in the way the browns are quickly hidden under growing pools of tears-
He knows it can’t be stopped.
“Tony.” He looks over to the sorcerer. Maybe he was right. Maybe this fight should have been had on Earth. Maybe these losses are his fault. Strange shakes his head slightly, like he knows exactly what Tony’s thinking.
“There was no other way.”
A few seconds pass. Peter’s looking more and more terrified by the second, hands twitching to help something that cannot be helped.
Tony’s eyes burn. One, two, three, four. That’s four out of eight people who were on Titan, dying or dead.
Strange gives him one more look, one that might have some kind of extra meaning — he can’t see past right now, he can’t see past the fact that the universe is dying and unraveling and falling apart and he can’t stop it — but he can’t tell.
His stab wound throbs with each second it takes for Strange to disappear. His last second alive is spent staring into Tony’s eyes.
His breaths are uneven. Dead. Dead. They’re all dead. Pepper might be dead. The love of his life. Rhodey, Happy. His brothers. They could be dead. Little more than piles of ashes. Helen. May. The kid’s friends. His friends. They could be dead.
He’s got Peter. He’s got Peter in front of him, still breathing. Still healthy. Still breathing.
The kid’s scraped through worse than this. Tony’s been at the kid’s side for over a year now. They’ve been through so much together.
He’s become a dad in all but biological relations. Peter is, by all means, his son. Peter’s his kid, and he’s got a heart of gold and he’s too good to be taken. And Starks- they’re cursed to survive.
“Mr. Stark?” Peter’s voice is subdued. Quiet. Almost questioning, in a way. Tony could almost be fooled into thinking everything was normal.
Nothing is normal. Thanos got the stones. His plan to wipe out-
Maybe the curse is Tony’s.
He meets his kid’s eyes. Fear. Pain. Panic. Tony can’t tell if it’s his or Peter’s anymore.
The aftermath of a stabbing. The recovery from PTSD. The setback from the torture, and another road to recovery.
The name that’s been there throughout. Through pain, joy, tiredness, fear. Mr. Stark? Peter asking him for guidance. Reassurance. Peter slowly going from intern-protege to son-figure. Everything that’s happened between homecoming and right now. The name that wraps up their entire bond.
Everything he’s still got planned out for the kid to see and do. Training so he can defend himself. Helping the kid out at school more. Being there for more milestones than Howard attended for him.
“I don’t feel so good.” Peter’s breathing is laboured. He looks at his hands, at his arms, and then looks up at Tony. Tony looks down slowly too.
It’s the biggest mistake he’s ever made.
Peter’s fingertips have faded to a darker colour. They’re cracking. Tony looks back up to Peter, heart in his throat, dread flooding his every cell-
There’s so much in the kid’s eyes that he can’t breathe anymore. Tony’s heart does something in his chest; a sensation that’s a cross between stabbing and burning.
He wonders if this is what dying is like.
He hopes this is what dying is like.
Tears find their way to his eyes before he knows what’s happening.
No. God, please. No. Don’t take him. Leave him. Kill me. Please. Just take me. Don’t take-
“I don’t know what’s happening- I don’t know what’s-” Peter’s moving towards him.
His eyes are so, so scared. He’s faced down psychopaths and villains before. He’s seen more than any kid should ever have to, but only now are his eyes the blank-scale scared that they are.
He’s a kid. He’s terrified. Tony opens his arms to catch Peter, just in time for the kid to fall into the grip.
Peter’s hands are at his back, constantly adjusting, so familiar but wrong
Peter hugging him lazily after that time he got stabbed and went to Stark Tower instead of home, constantly trying to get comfortable.
Peter jolting awake harshly after his nightmare at the compound, tackling Tony into a hug to make sense of what was and wasn’t real.
Tony hugging Peter after he crashed mid-swing because of his PTSD crisis. Trying to find some way to help pick up the pieces of his kid.
Peter clinging desperately to Tony in the midst of his fever, right before he found the security footage from the warehouse collapse. Peter trying to find some comfort in Tony because he was a sick kid in need of warmth.
Peter being bedridden after his torture, constantly dependent on affection and contact to stop him from slipping back into a catatonic state.
and unlike every time they’ve hugged in the past. Tony’s throat closes as he returns the embrace, despite how much his wound hurts to move. It’s autopilot. They’ve done this so many times, hugging. The best way they have to comfort each other. Why should now be any different? Tony cradles the kid’s head to he’s resting at the crook of his neck.
He can feel tears running down onto his clothes. It doesn’t matter. He’s crying now as well. The pain in his abdomen got nothing on the devastating, shattering ache in his heart.
“I don’t wanna go. I don’t wanna go. Mr. Stark, please, I don’t wanna go, I don’t wanna go-” Peter’s voice is broken. So, so scared.
He wishes he never realised Peter’s actions for what they are — Peter looks up to him. Tony knows this; it’s been in the way Peter has interacted with him since the very beginning in Germany. He knows Peter has looked up to him since he first declared he was Iron Man.
Peter’s come to him for two reasons. One — ever since the Expo, Tony’s been saving Peter’s life. Peter expects the same now.
(He wants to die for knowing he can’t save Peter this time.)
And two: Tony’s been there for Peter so much since Homecoming. He’s not complaining — it’s his honour to be the kid’s dad-figure.
He’s saved Peter so many times now. Peter’s saved him, too.
He’s watching his kid die. Everything he’s ever done to save Peter…
No parent should ever have to watch their child die.
He isn’t ready to lose his Peter. His kid. His son.
The tears flow faster when Peter’s hands stop pressuring his back. They’re gone. Tony has to lean the kid backward so he rests on the ground.
His heart shatters. Peter’s face is so, so scared. More openly terrified than anything Tony’s seen before. Toomes. The doctor. Nearly dying so, so many times. Everything they’ve gone through-
The same pale he was before Tony found out about May’s abusive boyfriend.
and the bags under his eyes are more pronounced than ever
The same as when Peter’s PTSD struck hard when that building nearly collapsed, tearing the kid from sleep before he could rest.
and his eyes are so scared Tony finds he can’t breathe anymore.
I don’t wanna go. A child’s concept of dying — going somewhere far away, where they can’t see anyone anymore.
Peter’s just a kid. He doesn’t want to die.
Tony would trade his life for Peter’s in an instant. He’d get to live. That would be enough for Tony to be happy.
Peter tries to reach for him. He can’t anymore. Tony runs his hands through the kid’s hair.
Parents are meant to take all their kid’s suffering away.
“I’m sorry.” Tony watches, his heart slowly dying and shattering and falling apart in his chest as Peter’s tears overflow again, and the dust makes its way to his neck.
He can’t not watch. Peter’s- his kid’s-
His son is dying in front of him.
Tony falls forward, arms empty.
It’s silent now. No more struggling. No more pain, or suffering.
There’s blood on his hands. His.
There’s dust intermingled with it.
He can’t breathe anymore.
He brings his hand up to his face, and cradles it with the clean one. He wraps his good hand around the one with-
His kid’s gone. Forever. He’s never gonna hear him ramble again. He’s never gonna see the kid bound around again. He’s never gonna hear the kid’s voice, or see his smile, or run a hand through his curls ever again. Because his kid’s dead. No more work projects. No more “Mr. Stark!”, no more hugs, no more photographs, no more reports on patrols-
He’s never gonna be able to tell his kid he loves him.
They didn’t have enough time.
May’s lost the only surviving member of her family. Her kid. Ned’s lost his best friend of fifteen years.
Tony brings his hand close; keeps it against his chest.
His tears meet the blood-dust mix as he brings it close to his mouth.
He gently presses a kiss to the hand (like the ones he rests on top of Peter’s head of curls whenever he’s being particularly clingy-).
He didn’t get to say a proper goodbye.
Quiet tears turn to mute sobs as he cries into his hand. The hopelessness in his chest is only diminished by the pain.
Why couldn’t it have been me?
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