⮕ 𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐓 ❘ [𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖛𝖊𝖑 𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖙𝖘]

▬▬▬▬ 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝑵𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝑻𝒐𝒏𝒚

🗒 ❛ HEADCANNON ༉‧₊˚✧

TIMELINE｡˚ ⁀➷ 2024; Post-Endgame AU

WARNING｡˚ ⁀➷ Angst, Mention of violence

SUMMARY｡˚ ⁀➷Returning from a conference, Tony Stark is ambushed by Nathan, your grief-stricken brother, who blames Tony for your death. 

꧁꧂

Tony was just returning from a tech conference in Berlin—his suit packed away, civilian clothes rumpled, and the beginnings of jet lag pressing behind his eyes. He'd barely landed in New York when the alert pinged his phone. Something was off. And it was only when he stepped onto the rooftop of an old Stark Industries facility that he realized—

It was an ambush.

The air was still, too still, and before he could process it, a shot rang out—nearly grazing his shoulder. More followed. Wild, frantic.

Nathan appeared at the edge of the rooftop, pistol aimed at the concrete. His grip was steady, but his emotions weren't. He tossed the gun aside. It wasn't about killing from a distance. He wanted this up close.

Tony ducked, narrowly avoiding another blind shot from him—rage fueling his every step through the scattered smoke and sparks.

"Nice to finally meet you, Nathan," Tony called out, stepping out from behind a rusted vent, trying to defuse the tension with a calm he didn't feel.

"Bullshit," Nathan spat, his voice sharp with betrayal. He tossed the pistol to the side, metal clattering on the concrete. "Before I kill you, I need to ask you one question. I need to know what happened."
He exhaled slowly, restraining the storm inside him. "I need to hear it from you."

Tony cradled his injured arm close, blood seeping through the torn fabric. "Look, Nathan. You'd never believe me. But what you need to know is—your sister sacrificed herself. And she saved the world. I'm sorry."

Nathan stared down at him, his chest heaving. "You're lying."

"What?"

"You're pathetic." The words came out venom-laced, "You're so pathetic,"

In an explosion of rage, Nathan stormed forward and slammed his boot into Tony's chest. The impact launched Tony backwards—he crashed against a concrete slab and slid to the ground, coughing.

Before he could react, Nathan was on him—fists flying. He struck Tony hard in the ribs, then across the jaw. Tony stumbled back but didn't strike; he raised an arm, tried to deflect, dodge—never retaliating.

"Nobody killed her. She made a choice," Tony said through gritted teeth, voice remarkably calm under the chaos.

"Stop lying!" Nathan roared. He yanked Tony forward and swept his leg, flipping him flat onto his back.

Nathan mounted him, raining down a flurry of punches to his chest and jaw. Blow after blow, his rhythm brutal, unrelenting—until Tony surged forward, twisting their weight. In one fluid move, he locked Nathan in place, wrapping his arm around Nathan's neck from behind, breathing heavily into his ear.

"You're not listening to me," Tony panted. "She sacrificed herself, understand? I couldn't stop her."

Nathan stilled for a moment. His brows knit together, jaw clenched. He looked like he might consider it. But then—

"No," He dropped down, broke the hold with practiced force, and whipped Tony's own arm around, wrenching his shoulder as he brought him forward—and rammed his knee directly into Tony's face.

Tony groaned, staggering back, blood on his lip.

"Why would she sacrifice herself for you?" Nathan snapped. "Why do you deserve it?"

"I don't," Tony's voice cracked, barely audible.

"So she died because you let her."

"I fought for it. But she was better than me," Tony said quietly, the weight of those memories pressing on him like iron. The look in his eyes was the same one he'd worn the day it happened—haunted.

"You should've fought harder," Nathan muttered, unsheathing his baton with a click. It crackled to life, a blue shimmer lighting up its edges.

Tony braced himself, raising his arms to shield his face as Nathan advanced again, striking him again and again with the electrified baton. Each blow forced a grunt or a stagger from him, but he refused to hit back.

"Wait—" Tony gasped, one hand raised feebly.

Nathan raised a fist, the baton falling to the side. His knuckles were bloodied and drawn back for one last punch—

And Tony did something unexpected.

He caught Nathan's fist mid-air, palm trembling, eyes locking with his.

"Your fistfive. With Y/N."

Nathan flinched. His eyes widened.

"How do you know that?"

"She talked about you all the time,"

Nathan's face crumpled as grief overtook his rage, "She did?"

He nodded, "She was so happy when she found out you were alive," Tony said, his voice softer now. "Angry, yeah—that you hid from her. But also happy. That she wasn't truly alone. That she wasn't an orphan after all."

Nathan's shoulders sagged. His mouth trembled.

"She told me how close she was to killing you. I asked her if she was afraid—of her mother, of what would happen to her, or even of the Winter Soldier. But all she could think about was you. How she was about to lose you. Just like she lost the Lawsons."

Nathan turned his face away, shame and heartbreak twisting his features. "It's not fair," he whispered. "You got to spend so much time with her."

Tony's expression tightened. "Yeah. I did."

"I wish I was there," Nathan's voice cracked. "If I could've just pushed her away, taken her the stones—"

"You think I didn't try?" Tony's voice rose, raw and broken, "I really did. But I couldn't. I'm sorry. You know how Y/N is,"

"I loved her so much," Nathan choked, tears finally falling as he looked down at his bloodstained hands. His body shook, "I miss her."

Tony blinked against the sting behind his own eyes, his face falling as he nodded, voice barely above a whisper, "Me too."

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