Stephen
The morning sun filtering through unfamiliar windows stirred Stephen awake. For a moment, disoriented, he feared some magical trap—an illusion, a paradox.
Then memory hit him like a backlash from a spell.
"Ah… fuck," he muttered, dragging himself out of bed.
He cleaned up in the guest suite's sleek bathroom and asked Friday, "Is Tony awake?"
"Sir is currently in his personal kitchen," came the AI's crisp reply.
Following the voice, Stephen found Tony at the kitchen island, coffee in hand, already tapping away on his tablet.
"Morning, Gandalf."
Stephen smirked. "Morning, Stark. Has your genius brain cracked the timeline paradox, or do you need another cup of fuel first?"
Tony wordlessly slid him a mug. "Can never say no to more caffeine. Anyway, I had Friday compile a list of overlaps and divergences between the timelines you saw. Figured we'd sift through it over breakfast."
"Efficient," Stephen said, surprised.
Tony didn't reply. He was already brisk-walking toward the living room.
Tony
He needed a buffer. Just fifteen more minutes, damn it that was all he'd asked himself for. Time to drink his coffee, maybe call Peter, pull on the full Stark mask.
Stephen had shown up too early, and Tony wasn't ready. Not emotionally. Not intellectually. So he fled well, walked very quickly to the living room before his words started falling apart again.
He hated that.
The elevator dinged. Their English breakfast arrived. For two geniuses, they ate in an uncomfortable silence that would've made Thanksgiving with his father feel breezy.
Finally, they got to work.
Stephen
One thing became painfully clear: in every reality where they "won," the universe still fell shattered, erased, corrupted within two decades.
Every. Single. Time.
Tony gestured at the holographic timeline.
"How about Timeline 3,049,657? Thor and you launched a dual-strike maybe this time, we aim for the head."
Stephen shook his head. "That caused Thor's death, remember? Which directly led to universal decay via something... undefined. Eight years later, the cosmos collapsed."
Tony muttered something under his breath.
Stephen countered, "What about Timeline 2,884,114? The one with the..." He trailed off as Tony winced.
"No, Blair Witch," Tony said. "We don't have the time or resources to build that kind of tech from scratch."
And so it went. For two straight hours, one would propose, the other would shoot it down. Every fix had fatal side effects. Every solution turned to dust.
Tony
He slumped on the couch and sighed. "So what you're saying is, copying a 'winning' timeline isn't actually winning. Everything's too different here variables shifted just enough to screw us."
He got up and walked to the bar. "Yesterday was Scotch. Today's a Whisky day. Tomorrow we'll argue over Gin or Vodka. Unless you have a poison of choice, Merlin?"
Stephen barely looked up. "Bourbon. Also, water. And why do you call me every fictional wizard except my name?"
Tony blinked, pouring drinks. "Oh. Uh bad habit. I nickname people I might want to be friends with. It's easier than dealing with serious things seriously, you know? But if it bugs you, I'll stop."
Stephen finally turned away from the hologram.
"No," he said. "It doesn't bug me. I was just curious. And if you call me 'Doctor Strange' again after weeks of 'Stephen' and 'Merlin,' I'll assume I'm in trouble."
Tony raised an eyebrow. "Raises your hackles?"
"And gives me goosebumps," Stephen deadpanned.
Tony grinned. "Useful data. Duly noted."
Stephen
Then came the question that cut through the banter.
Tony's voice lowered. "Okay. Serious now. You keep saying that in all those timelines where we won… the universe still fell. But you've never said how. What did you see, Stephen? What really caused it?"