our favourite father-son duo in the MCU returns for another 200 mini adventures :-)
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MY CONTENT AND ACCOUNT IS NOT A SAFE SPACE FOR ST*RKER SHIPPERS. THIS IS A PUBLIC AND VERY LOUD DNI. GTFO MY PAGE.
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It was an often occurrence for Tony Stark to find thinking was easier than breathing. It's only been a second week since he's been saved, if you could call it that. His skin was thin on his bones, he needed help to eat, he spent most of his time in a hospital bed in the med bay if he wasn't listening to Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes yapping about possible solutions to the devastation their loss caused.
("I said we'd lose. You said we'd do that together too. We lost, and you weren't there." Tony really couldn't have said it any other way. "No trust. Liar.")
He wasn't for that. He hated the meetings. He hated listening to them pretend to be a team, and he was exhausted pretending that they could fix this. They couldn't fix this. They tried, really gave it their best shot, and they failed, and now they had to live with the consequences.
While he watched old friends (and his thoughts even gritted the words out like they never belonged there) make plans, surrounding them with ideas and thoughts of how they could find Thanos, Tony sat in his hospital bed and thought too.
He thought about a lot of things, because there wasn't much else to do. The thought of tinkering on technology that didn't save the people he cared about that day made him sick to his stomach, but doctors gave him strict orders to stay in bed and they told him to try and keep his food down anyways.
Sleeping was a difficult task. If he actively tried to lay down, to close his eyes and sleep, it only took a handful of seconds for his heart to start racing and his eyes to force open. Because he needs to stay awake. If he sleeps then he'll die, if he dies he won't make it back to Pepper, so if just keeps his eyes open, if he keeps looking at the stars then he'll make it to back Earth, he'll get off this ship and—
—and then he'll be brought back to life by the sound of his heart rate monitor beeping too quickly and Pepper squeezing his hand. It was no secret that most of his sleep hours are thanks to pain medication.
Pepper has gone to sleep. Tony finally convinced her to sleep in an actual bed and not in the chair beside his medical cot. He could see the weariness in her nod, the hesitancy in her eyes—but he's also seen the exhaustion, the dark circles, the hidden yawns.
