“I can see the way you look at it,” Steve said, behind Tony. “When you think no one is watching you.”
Tony shut his wallet, turning. He didn’t say anything.
“Two years ago, today,” Steve murmured, sitting down on one of the chairs.
They were on the pool level; Steve knew that it was where Tony went to clear his mind. He liked the sound of the water.
“Doesn’t feel like two years,” Tony said. He didn’t put the wallet away.
“I know it doesn’t.”
“The world is grieving,” Tony said quietly, looking out over the New York skyline. Less lights were on— there were always less lights.
Out there was a dark apartment in Queens, where a high school student and his aunt should’ve been. He would’ve been a senior this year.
In this building there was an office that should have had a light on but very well may never be occupied again.
Steve shifted. “So are you.”
“I stopped grieving two years ago, Cap.” But there was something else in his voice, something detached.
“Can I see the picture?” Steve asked, and Tony gripped the wallet tighter.
“No.”
“Tony, you don’t have to pretend you’re okay.”
“I’m not pretending.” But Tony’s voice shook, and he hated it.
“Can I see the picture?” Steve repeated, and Tony nodded weakly. He opened the wallet and felt the familiar lump in his throat.
It was a photo of the five of them— May, Peter, Tony, Pepper, and Happy.
“Has Happy seen it?” Steve asked softly, holding the photo when Tony slipped it out of the clear sleeve.
“He has one, too,” he tells him, voice thick.
The longer Tony looks at the photo, and the more he thinks about that day two years ago, the weaker he feels.
Peter Parker should be here. Peter Parker had a life ahead of him— a bright one.
May Parker should be here. She still had miles left on her soul.
And most of all, Pepper should still be here. She should be standing next to him, holding him tight and telling him things were going to be okay, like she always had done when she was alive.
Tony wiped his face, turning away from Steve and out at the city. It never looked as beautiful anymore.
“Tony—“
“They still had their lives ahead of them,” Tony whispered, wavering. “We were supposed to be with each other, forever. A family.” His voice broke on the last word.
“There’s still a chance.”
“The fact that there’s still a chance doesn’t make their deaths hurt any less.”
“I know.”
“Besides,” Tony sighed, taking back the picture and sliding it back into his wallet. “I’m the one that’s supposed to be finding their way home.”
“And Banner,” Steve reminded him.
“And Banner,” he agreed. He sat down next to Steve, watching their reflections in the water.
“I miss him,” Steve murmured after a while. He laughed, wiping his cheeks. “I don’t have a photo, like you do, but...“ he sniffled, looking up. Tony watched as the lights glittered in his red-rimmed eyes. “I think about him. Every day.”
Tony nodded, smiling sadly. He thinks about Pepper every day, too.
“I’m gonna find a way,” he promised, voice shaking. “We have to.”
Steve flashed a watery smile.
“You, capsicle,” Tony said, softly, “look like you need a hug.”
“Maybe,” he laughed.
“Come here.”
And Steve melted into Tony, warm, strong arms wrapping around his body, trembling and just as broken as he felt, but ultimately here.
“We’re gonna find a way,” Tony repeated, voice gentle. “I promise.”
In a way, though, it’s more like a promise to himself.