Tony let out a sharp breath, running a hand through his hair. "Great. So I've got some mystery man in a metal suit coming after me. That narrows it down."
Stephen's expression softened slightly as he stepped closer. "I know this isn't what you wanted to hear. But I told you before—your presence in the timeline is significant. And the choices you make now will shape not just your future, but the future of those around you."
Tony glanced at him, his gaze sharp but thoughtful. "So what do I do? How do I stop it?"
"The future isn't set in stone. I can only observe the threads as they are now. Your actions will determine how they unfold." Stephen hesitated then, his gaze flicking to the arc reactor in Tony's chest. "For now, things are… stable. But there are subtle changes. Small ripples in the threads of time."
Tony frowned. "Ripples? That doesn't sound good."
"It's not necessarily bad," Stephen said quickly. "But it does mean that your choices—and mine—carry even more weight than they normally would. The timeline is resilient, but it's not invulnerable."
Tony exhaled, his shoulders slumping slightly as he leaned back against the workbench. "No pressure, huh?"
Stephen smirked faintly, his tone lightening just a bit. "You thrive under pressure. Isn't that your whole thing?"
Tony chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Yeah, well, I could use a little less pressure right now."
Stephen's gaze softened further, his voice quieter now. "You'll figure it out, Anthony. You always do."
Tony studied him for a moment before nodding, his grin returning faintly. "Alright, Doc. But if you see anything else in your mystical timeline web, you'd better let me know. Deal?"
"Deal," Stephen replied, inclining his head. "Now, get back to work. You've got plenty of projects to finish, and I've got plenty to keep an eye on."
Tony grinned. "You're not so bad, Strange. For a guy who's always brooding, you're alright."
Stephen huffed softly, his smirk widening. "And you're tolerable, Stark. For now."
"Who could it be?" Tony muttered as he picked up his tools again.
Stephen watched him closely, his expression softening slightly. "I don't have all the answers, Anthony. All I saw was a fragment, a single thread in the tapestry of time. The rest is still unfolding."
Tony sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Great. So I'm basically playing Russian roulette with my future."
Stephen smirked faintly, his tone dry. "Welcome to life."
Tony huffed a laugh despite himself, shaking his head. "Alright, Doc. You've got my attention. If this thing is coming to my doorstep, I'd better be ready for it."
Tony turned back to his holograms, the image of his upgraded suit flickering in the air before him. "JARVIS," he said, his voice brisk, "add a note to the Mark II design. We need to reinforce the structural integrity and add enhanced propulsion. If I'm fighting someone in a big metal suit, I'm going to need speed and agility."
"Noted, sir," JARVIS replied smoothly.
Tony glanced at him, probably sensing his curiosity. "You just said this guy is in some kind of walking tank, so better to up my chances, you know. After all, I'm not going to take him on in my birthday suit."
Stephen smirked, his tone faintly amused. "I'd prefer not to think about that, thank you."
Tony chuckled, turning back to his work. "Well, you'd better start thinking about it, Strange, because if you're sticking around, you're going to see a lot more of my brilliance in action. Might as well get used to it."
Stephen huffed softly, shaking his head. "Just try not to get yourself killed, Anthony."
Tony's grin widened, his confidence shining through. "No promises, Doc. But thanks for the heads-up. I'll make sure I'm ready for whatever's coming."
As Tony turned back to his holograms, the weight of Stephen's vision lingered in the air. The battle he had seen wasn't just about technology or power and though Stephen had no intention of interfering with the timeline, he couldn't shake the feeling that his presence here was already tipping the scales.
For better or for worse.
And though he couldn't predict where the ripples would lead, one thing was clear: Anthony Stark's path was far from ordinary.
And Stephen was determined to see where it led.
However, as the glow of the lab's holograms dimmed as the hour grew late. Tony was still tinkering, his hands moving between tools and components with a precision born of obsession. The faint hum of JARVIS's systems filled the air, a soothing backdrop to Tony's relentless work ethic.
Following a standard meditation, Stephen stood from his cross-legged position, arms crossed nearby, watching the scene with escalating disapproval. The bags under Tony's eyes were more pronounced now, his movements slower than they had been earlier. It was well past midnight, and yet Tony showed no signs of stopping.
If he remembered right, Tony hadn't slept while on the plane either. And they had spent a good couple of hours awake before meeting the helicopters in the desert.
Finally, Stephen broke the silence. "Anthony."
Tony didn't look up, muttering absently, "What is it, Strange? I'm busy here."
Stephen narrowed his eyes, stepping forward. "It's late. Too late for you to still be working."
Tony waved a hand dismissively. "I don't have time, Doc. This suit isn't going to build itself."
Stephen sighed, his patience wearing thin. "You're no good to anyone if you collapse from exhaustion. Come on, Anthony. Bed."
Tony snorted, glancing at him with a crooked grin. "What are you, my mom?"
Stephen's expression didn't waver. "If that's what it takes to get you to sleep, then yes."
Before Tony could respond, Stephen grabbed him by the arm—not roughly, but firmly, enough to make his point. "Let's go."
"Alright, alright," Tony grumbled, letting himself be dragged out of the lab and toward his bedroom. "But don't expect me to get any beauty sleep. That ship sailed a long time ago."
Stephen ignored the comment, guiding Tony down the hall. When they reached Tony's room, Stephen pushed open the door and gestured for him to go inside.
"Get some rest," Stephen said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Tony rolled his eyes but stepped into the room, muttering something under his breath about bossy sorcerers. The door closed behind him, leaving Stephen standing alone in the quiet hallway.
He was about to go to his own room, but Stephen lingered outside Tony's room for a moment, his mind drifting back to the cave in Afghanistan.
He remembered the long, sleepless nights, the faint glow of the Mark I's arc reactor illuminating the cramped space. Yinsen and Tony had taken turns sleeping, their rest often interrupted by nightmares that dragged them back to reality with brutal clarity.
It had been a fragile arrangement, an unspoken agreement to wake each other when the shadows of their minds became too heavy to bear. Stephen had been there to see it—the quiet camaraderie born of shared trauma, the silent understanding that neither man could face the night alone.
And now, watching Tony retreat into his room, Stephen couldn't help but wonder if those nights had left a deeper mark than Tony let on.
With a quiet sigh, Stephen opened the door and let his body shift, the shimmer of golden light enveloping him as he transformed into his feline form. The black-furred cat padded silently through the slightly ajar door.
Inside, Tony lay on his back, staring blankly at the ceiling. The glow of the arc reactor in his chest cast faint shadows across the room, its steady hum the only sound in the quiet space.
Stephen hopped onto the bed, his paws barely making a sound as he approached Tony.
Tony turned his head slightly, his brow furrowing as he spotted the cat. "What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice low.
Stephen didn't answer immediately. Instead, he stepped closer, his blue eyes studying Tony's face. The man looked tired—bone-deep exhaustion etched into every line of his features.
Finally, Stephen spoke, his voice soft but firm. "You're still awake."
Tony smirked faintly, though it didn't reach his eyes. "You're observant, for a cat."
Stephen huffed, curling up beside Tony's neck. His warm fur brushed against Tony's skin as he settled into place. "You're not sleeping," Stephen whispered.
Tony let out a quiet sigh, his gaze drifting back to the ceiling. "Yeah, well… sleep's overrated."
Stephen tilted his head slightly, his eyes glinting in the dim light. "You've always had trouble with it, haven't you? Even in the cave."
Tony stiffened slightly at the mention of the cave, but he didn't deny it. "You noticed that, huh?"
Stephen hummed softly, his tail flicking. "It was hard not to. You and Yinsen took turns keeping each other awake. Watching each other's backs."
Tony let out a dry laugh, though there was no humor in it. "Yeah. Good times."
Stephen's gaze softened, his voice quieter now. "You don't have to face this alone, Anthony. Not then, not now."
Tony turned his head slightly, glancing at the cat curled against him. "And what are you gonna do, Doc? Watch me sleep like some creepy guardian angel?"
Stephen smirked faintly, though his tone remained serious. "I'll wake you if you have a nightmare."
Tony blinked, surprised by the simple statement. "You'd… do that?"
Stephen's gaze met Tony's, steady and calm. "I offered, didn't I?"
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, slowly, Tony let out a quiet breath, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "Alright, Steph. But if I wake up and you're drooling on me, we're gonna have a problem."
Stephen chuckled softly, his voice laced with dry humor. "I'll try to restrain myself."
Tony smirked faintly, his eyes drifting closed as the warmth of the cat's presence lulled him toward sleep. For the first time in what felt like years, he allowed himself to let go, if only for a little while.
And as Stephen curled around his neck, his tail flicking lazily, he made a silent promise to keep watch. To wake Tony if the shadows of his mind grew too heavy.
Because even now, centuries removed from the man he used to be, Stephen Vincent Strange wasn't one to leave someone to face the darkness alone.