Work Text:
“I am inevitable,” Thanos declared, raising his Gauntlet to snap his fingers.
Tony smirked when Thanos noticed that his hand was empty. He lifted his own, the Stones neatly nestled into an Iron Man gauntlet. Power coursed through his veins, burning him alive. Still, he found the strength to stare Thanos in the eyes.
“And I am Iron Man,” he breathed against the waves of pain.
He snapped his fingers.
The pain was unbearable, but only for a moment. Tony was pretty sure he had died until he looked down, where a slim hand in blue armor clutched his. Pepper was at his left, taking some of the power of the Infinity Stones into herself. Their eyes locked and all Tony felt was love for his brave, brave wife.
On his other side, Rhodey landed, putting a hand on Tony’s shoulder. Peter grabbed Pepper’s other hand, and Nebula took Rhodey’s. One by one, the Avengers on the field joined hands and reached out, sharing the power of the stones.
Thanos’s army crumbled into dust. Tony didn’t stop staring at the Titan.
“And we’re the fucking Avengers,” he said, voice strong, as Thanos collapsed.
The Stones’ power cut out as Tony fell to his knees. The absence of the searing pain just filled him with a bone deep weariness. Worse, he couldn’t feel his right arm. But against all odds, he wasn’t dead.
“Tony, Tony, oh my god,” Pepper grabbed him in a hug so tight he was sure she dented his armor. “You idiot . What were you thinking?”
“Slower, Pep,” he groaned. “My head is going to explode.”
She lifted him easily. If he were in less pain, he definitely would have found it hot. “I’m taking you to Dr. Cho,” she told him sternly. Her panic manifested in almost obsessive efficiency, so Tony closed his eyes and let her handle things.
Distantly, he heard Pepper ordering Strange to open a portal. There was fussing of some kind, someone prodding his face and the wreck of his arm. Everything faded into black- everything except the reassuring squeeze of Pepper’s hand in his own.
---
Tony woke up a week later, aching, scarred, and down an arm, but alive .
“Tony?” Pepper said, voice tinged with hope.
He blinked his eyes open slowly, groaning. His head was fuzzy from the drugs he was sure he was on. “Pep?” he rasped.
“You’re okay,” she promised, squeezing his hand tight. “You’re okay.”
The light behind her head haloed her, like she was his guardian angel. Her eyes were ringed with black, lips chapped, and nails bitten to the quick, but Tony was certain she had never been more beautiful to him. “We won?” he asked. She nodded. “Good. I was worried it was a dream.”
“But if you ever pull something so stupid again, I will kick your ass so hard,” Pepper promised, climbing into the bed with him. “I’m so mad at you.”
Tony smiled weakly. “Love you, Pep.”
“I love you, too,” she cuddled close, like he’d disappear if she stopped touching him. Quieter, she continued, “I thought you were gone. I thought we had lost you.”
“I’m sorry,” he breathed into her hair. They both knew that he wasn’t sorry for snapping, for winning the war. He was sorry for Pepper’s hurt, for Morgan’s tears, for the worry and fear. But he could never be sorry for saving them (that was one of the many reasons Pepper loved him, after all).
She kissed him, tasting like salty tears and hospital coffee. It was all the forgiveness he needed.
---
Living with one arm was a little harder than Tony expected. He officially retired as Iron Man because of it, except for emergencies (“Iron Man can finally rest now,” he told Pepper, watching Peter and Harley training. “The world’s in good hands.”). The kids were instrumental in making his prosthetic, with Peter and Harley handling the delicate wiring that Tony couldn’t do one-handed and Morgan picking the colors.
She chose Rescue colors, not Iron Man ones. Tony wholeheartedly approved.
(Pepper did, too, if the way she kissed him after seeing it for the first time was any indication.)