Chapter Text
As a general rule, Stephen didn’t drink. Yes, he’d have the occasional glass of champagne when he was out at a gala or a shot of whiskey on the rare evening out with his coworkers or an occasional—and he meant occasional—nightcap shared with Tony before bed. But his work was too important for him to develop the habit.
Today, he thought, could be an exception.
He cradled his glass—the second of the day—in his hand, ignoring the fact that it was only eight in the morning.
The morning that was supposed to be amongst the happiest of his life.
His goddamn wedding day.
Except Stephen wasn’t going to get married. Because Tony was gone. The love of his life, the man he’d dated for the last three years and who he’d planned to spend the rest of his life with, was gone.
Was, when Stephen forced himself to be honest with himself, probably dead.
So yes, Stephen thought he had every right to get drunk this morning. Maybe he’d stay drunk for the whole of his ‘honeymoon’, the days he’d had scheduled off work for months in advance. He should have taken on a few shifts, but some part of him hadn’t been able to.
He threw back half his drink, the burn down his throat entirely unpleasant—it went down smooth, yes, but Stephen was hurting and so it hurt as well—but it was sure to bring on the faint haziness that would start to numb the overwhelming grief.
There was a knock on his door.
It was probably Christine, here to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid. He wasn’t sure why she wanted to bother. He knew he’d been a right bastard the past three months, growing worse and worse the closer they got to his wedding that wouldn’t be.
The knock came again, harder this time.
Stephen took another swallow of alcohol, it was Tony’s favorite whiskey. He could feel every dollar of expense. Tony always said that it was meant to be savored.
Stephen planned on savoring it all day.
There was a third knock.
Stephen wondered how long it would take them to realize that Stephen wasn’t going to be opening the door today.
As though in answer to his thoughts, there was the sound of the key in his lock.
Stephen frowned. Because that didn’t make sense. Only he and Tony had keys.
For a brief, wild moment, he could almost imagine that Tony was about to walk in the door and Stephen could yell at him for leaving him alone. Either that or he’d break down in Tony’s arms and let his should-be-husband gentle the grief that was drowning him.
The thoughts, intense and overwhelming, were dashed against stone as Happy Hogan stepped through.
“You can show yourself back out,” Stephen informed him. There was no slur to his voice. He wasn’t drunk quite yet. It was only eight, after all. There was plenty of time for him to change that. “I’m not having visitors today.”
“He’s alive,” Happy said simply.
Stephen scoffed. “The only reason the military is still searching is because Rhodey is the most determined bastard this world has ever seen.”
God, he wanted to believe. He did. He wanted to believe that Tony was alive. But Stephen had always been practical. There were no such thing as miracles, and Tony’s survival, after this long…
That would be a miracle.
“No,” Happy said. “He’s alive. They found him.”
Stephen froze, hands clenching around the drink in his hand. “What?” he asked, voice suddenly hoarse. “What? No. You’re…” There was a ringing in his ears. Tinnitus, he self diagnosed in a strange sort of daze. Often a symptom of hearing loss.
But this wasn’t hearing loss, this…
Emotional distress, he remembered. It could come on suddenly during emotional distress.
But this… this wasn’t distress.
A hand on his elbow jerked him out of his daze. “—phen, Stephen,” Happy said. It was clear he’d called Stephen’s name several times. Stephen looked up at him, breath coming out sharp and unsteady. He’d been hyperventilating, he realized.
A choked laugh escaped him, sounding perilously close to a sob. Tony. Tony.
“He’s alive?” Stephen asked, once the almost hysterical moment passed. “You’re… It’s official?”
It had to be. If it wasn’t, then Stephen… Stephen wouldn’t survive that.
“Colonel Rhodes found him wandering through the desert. They were in the area because of an explosion. From what they can tell, the boss blew the place sky high during his escape.”
Escape.
Escape because Tony hadn’t just been gone… Tony had been—
No. No. Stephen didn’t know anything. Not until it was verified.
“I… When is he coming back?”
“That’s why I’m here,” Happy said. “They put him on a flight to California. I jumped on the jet to come get you. Didn’t think you would answer the phone.”
He wouldn’t have. He’d stopped answering when it had truly sunk in that Tony was gone. Except Tony wasn’t.
“If we get going, you can be at the airport when he—“
“Yes,” Stephen interrupted. “Yes. I… We should go. We should go, now.”
Happy stopped him. “Get dressed. You can use the flight to sober up. But you need to be a little more put together before you see him. He needs you to have it together.” The words were firm, uncompromising.
They took a minute to make sense and Stephen realized what he must look like. In his bathrobe and cradling alcohol in his hands.
“Right. Ten minutes.” He could jump in the shower, the cold water would be the first step to getting properly sober.
The next ten minutes passed in a blur. He knew he’d showered and dressed in proper clothes, before stumbling back into the kitchen.
He followed Happy down to the underground parking garage where the car Tony kept for when he was in New York was waiting. He climbed into the passenger seat as Happy took the wheel.
Stephen certainly couldn’t drive in this state, not half drunk as he was. Not with his shock and relief mixing within him, a tumultuous combination that left Stephen feeling dazed and unreal.
Tony was safe. Tony was coming back.
In the span of hours Stephen was going to see Tony again when Stephen had made himself believe that there was nothing else. That Tony’s story had been cut cruelly short. That the life they had intended to share together would never get the chance to truly start.
But Tony had survived. Tony was alive.
If Stephen repeated it enough times, then maybe it would start to feel real.
He doubted it truly would though, not until Stephen saw Tony again.
“Do they have any medical files?” he asked. “Something I can look at?” Something to give him a feel for how Tony was doing. He wasn’t Tony’s personal doctor—their relationship put a stop to that, had since the first moment he realized that the feeling in his chest when he thought of Tony was love—but he was Tony’s medical power of attorney and had written consent to view Tony’s files.
Happy shook his head. “He’s not letting anyone near him. It’s…”
Stephen jerked to look at him. “He’s rejected medical care?” The words filled him with no relief at the thought that Tony might be fine. No, if Tony was rejecting medical care than it was because he had something to hide.
Happy nodded. “According to Colonel Rhodes he let them put his arm in a sling and then told them to back off.”
Of course Tony had.
Because Stephen didn’t believe that Tony was fine. He wanted to, wanted to believe that Tony had come from this no worse for wear. He just couldn’t believe that.
It was a miracle they were getting Tony alive. It was too much to expect that they got him back unharmed.
He called the hospital as they made their way to the airport, putting in all of his vacation time. He could feel the curiosity over the phone, but they didn’t ask why.
Stephen suspected that they assumed it was because he was breaking down. And given what he’d been up to less than an hour ago, that was perhaps not entirely unfair, even if Stephen still felt ill at the thought of people assuming that of him.
They reached the airport in quick time and Stephen climbed aboard Tony’s private jet.
He took himself to the jet’s bathroom to throw water on his face. Thankfully he had only started drinking this morning and he didn’t look hungover. Which would be far from the first impression he wanted to give a returning Tony.
The jet was quiet as he stepped back out.
Happy threw a bag of dried blueberries at him. “Eat.”
Stephen obeyed. Anything to help absorb the alcohol, and there probably wasn’t much in terms of actual food on the jet. “How long until Tony lands?”
“Scheduled to get there thirty minutes after we do,” Happy told him.
Stephen nodded as he took the seat across from Happy. He forced himself to close his eyes. He needed sleep. It had been a long three months and he hadn’t slept at all last night. Tony was going to need him at his best, and that meant not sleep-deprived.
He closed his eyes and found his thoughts drifting to Tony.
Tony who was alive.
His throat ached with suppressed emotion. Tony was alive.
They’d been together three years, now. Had been engaged to get married. Today was supposed to have been their wedding day. Stephen had fully intended to spend the rest of his life with Tony. He still did.
He kept his eyes closed as the time passed, memories of Tony messing around in his workshop, lounging in bed, burning food in the kitchen, stealing Stephen’s coffee and then complaining that he’d added the coconut creamer and not the hazelnut.
Tony on one knee, grinning up at him mischievously as though he’d known that Stephen had his own ring stowed away and a date planned for the next night to propose.
They were memories he’d been suppressing the last few months, because missing Tony was hard enough without torturing himself with everything he’d feared he would never have again.
Exhaustion tugged at him.
He supposed he wasn’t truly surprised when the exhaustion was enough to carry him away.
For the first time in three months, he didn’t dream of Tony fading away from him.
Stephen could see Tony’s silhouette in the shadow of the military plane as Rhodey helped him out of a wheelchair—and Stephen refused to let it worry him, wheelchairs were standard issue in this situation—and down the ramp, a slight limp to his step, to where Stephen and Pepper were waiting.
A medical gurney pulled up and Stephen could see Tony’s disgust for it even from a distance and watched as Rhodey gestured for it to go away.
Tony stopped in front of them.
Stephen had never been afraid to touch before. Reaching out for what he wanted was what he did. But for the first time that he could remember, he hesitated.
Tony stood in front of him, scrapes on his face, clothes not quite the right fit, and arm in a sling. He looked so alive and Stephen found he wasn’t sure that he could touch him in case he shattered the moment to discover a hallucination in Tony’s place.
“You’re looking a little worn through,” Tony told him. “Pretty sure that’s my job, right now.”
“Didn’t realize you had a monopoly,” Stephen responded automatically, and the words seemed to knock the hesitation back. Because Tony was really the only one who could decide that commenting on Stephen’s less than stellar appearance was the right way to go after three months of grief on Stephen’s end and three months of… well, Stephen didn’t know those details yet.
He stepped closer, careful of Tony’s arm as he pulled him into a soft embrace.
He heard Tony inhale sharply, a choked noise almost too quiet for Stephen to hear. Tony’s good arm wrapped around him and Tony pressed their foreheads together. For a moment they breathed the same air and Stephen felt his grief, potent and terrible, swell over him like a wave and then fade back. “Stephen.” Tony whispered his name as though it was a benediction. They stayed there, for a moment, just settling into the relief of being together.
“Sorry I missed our wedding,” Tony murmured quietly.
“You’ll make it up to me,” Stephen told him.
Tony huffed a laugh, but then pulled back. His face was a picture of perfect composure.
“Well, vacation’s over.” Tony turned, striding towards the car. “We’ve got work to do.”
Happy took the driver’s seat as Stephen and Pepper followed Tony into the car.
“Where to, boss?” Happy asked.
“Take us to the hospital, please, Happy,” Pepper said, taking the lead.
“No,” Tony said, voice firm.
Stephen startled, heart clenching and twisting.
“No?” Pepper sounded aghast. “Tony, you have to go to the hospital.” She looked over Tony to Stephen. “Stephen, tell him—“
”Tony—“ Stephen started.
Tony’s gaze was sharp. “Stephen.” Tony’s voice had no give. “No is an answer all on its own.”
Stephen was suddenly hyperaware of how few choices Tony had likely had of late. Still, Stephen met his gaze evenly, refusing to let himself be quailed, even if he mentally changed the argument he’d been about to make. “You, me, and a doctor of our mutual choice,” Stephen offered as a compromise.
He and Tony stared at each other for a long moment. Stephen could see a debate raging through Tony’s eyes. Finally, he nodded curtly. “For you. You can choose. Someone who’ll maintain my confidentiality.” He paused. “And who has small hands.”
Stephen grimaced. He didn’t know why that was a requirement, but something told him that he wasn’t going to like it.
“I’ll figure it out,” Stephen said. “Until then—“
“Until then, I’ve got work to do,” Tony interrupted.
Stephen shut down his own protest and nodded. “All right.”
Pepper sighed. She didn’t look happy with the compromise, but she accepted it. “Okay, we have to—“
“No,” Tony said. He sounded frustrated. “I don’t have to do anything. I’ve been in captivity for three months.” Stephen flinched, saw Pepper do the same. “There are two things I want to do. I want an American cheeseburger.” Stephen grimaced, but he’d already won one battle. He didn’t think he would so easily win another so soon. “And the other…”
“Leave it until you and Stephen are alone,” Pepper ordered, trying to regain equilibrium after Tony’s harsh acknowledgment of where he’d been.
Tony scoffed. “…is not what you think. I want you to call for a press conference, now.”
Stephen’s confusion matched Pepper’s. “Call for a press conference?” Pepper asked.
Tony nodded. “Yeah.”
Pepper just stared at him. “What on earth for?”
Tony ignored the question. “Hogan, drive. Cheeseburger first.” He looked at Pepper. “And I was serious. Call for that press conference.”
Pepper hesitated, but then nodded, pulling out her phone and calling the PR team to set something up.
Stephen waited until she was distracted to reach out and rest his hand on Tony’s leg. He would have preferred to take Tony’s hand, but the arm closest to him was currently in a sling.
Tony stiffened, sharp and on edge. Stephen started to retreat.
Tony’s free hand caught his own. “Sorry,” he said quietly. “Still adjusting.”
“I understand.” In theory, at least. Stephen suspected it would be much more difficult to respond to in practice.
Tony leaned against him, not his full weight, just the press of shoulder against shoulder. “Stephen, I’m about to make my life hell. I know we said... But…”
Stephen stiffened, he didn’t like where it sounded like this was headed. He cut it off before the words could be verbalized. There were some words he couldn’t hear out loud. “Are you asking me to leave you?” he asked.
Tony let out a pained noise, quiet enough Stephen could almost pretend he hadn’t heard anything. “Worse,” Tony said. “I’m begging you to stay. It’s selfish and unfair, but that’s what I’m doing. I’m asking you to stay. Even though I’m about to…” he didn’t finish, just faded off.
“Tony,” Stephen said. “Life was hell without you. I’d rather it be hell with you.”
“You might just get that,” Tony said. His tone was wry, but there was a flintiness in his eyes that spoke of determination. The look disappeared for tired apology. “I know I was supposed to move out to New York when we got married,” Tony said. “But I… there are things I need to do, here.”
Stephen nodded, mind already running through the hospitals he’d considered before they’d decided that Tony was coming to New York rather than Stephen to California. “I can apply to transfer—“
“Stephen, no,” Tony said quickly. “You love Metro General. We’ll… I don’t know, but we’ll figure something out. This isn’t forever, just…”
“Tony, I love you far more than I love a hospital.”
“We’ll figure something out,” Tony repeated. “I’m not stealing you from something you love.”
Perhaps a sabbatical, Stephen considered. It was a little early in his career for that, but there was technically nothing wrong with it. There was plenty of research he could do into nerve regeneration outside of the hospital. He thought, given the circumstances, that Metro General would be willing to work with him. Perhaps he could even teach a seminar at Columbia a few times or maybe be on hand for tricky surgeries that required his expertise.
Something to keep himself relevant.
His star might not be fully risen, yet, but he knew—and they knew—that he was good at what he did, that someday he’d be considered the best. That he was worth the investment.
He reflected that three years ago he would have scoffed at the idea of doing anything that would impede his career. Would have, in fact, sworn that there was nothing on heaven or earth that would ever so much as make him consider it.
But god, he’d just lost Tony. He’d just gotten Tony back. He needed to be close. And maybe it was self-absorbed, but he rather thought that Tony needed him to be close as well.
“All right,” Stephen agreed. “We’ll figure something out.” He doubted they were imagining the same thing, but Stephen was sure he could convince Tony that he was right.
He’d always been very good at that.