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[buildsomething]

You have not reached Tony Stark. Clearly. Leave a message and I'll get back to you if I feel like it.

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[buildsomething]

[ Tony's got his own moment of silence before he lets out a long breath. ]

Yeah. I know.

[ And doesn't that just say everything. Tony Stark, once again the last man standing. ]

She was okay the last time I saw her. Well. As okay as anyone is.

[ Not dead, at least. Tony's genuinely not sure whether or not that's the better option. But Nebula isn't him, and he can't say he got much of a sense from her in the five minutes he can remember. She hadn't seemed too terribly impressed with Tony's impending breakdown, but he can't really blame her for that. ]

It was just...me and her. At the end.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Peter heaves out a low sigh – not relieved, because how the hell could he be, all things considered? But whatever he's feeling right now might share a few distant cousins with relief.

And what Tony says next answers his follow-up questions: what happened to Strange, and what happened to Little Pete – though if he's honest, he had figured out the latter for himself, just based on how the kid had been acting.

For a long, long while, Peter is silent, and that has to be telling, when he can hardly shut up, when he seems to enjoy the sound of his voice above all else.

But eventually, he manages, ]

I'm— glad you two are okay.

[ If it's even possible for anyone to be okay in a shitfest like this.

But saying "I'm glad you two didn't turn to dust" seems a little too on the fucking nose. ]

[buildsomething]

[ It earns something that's not quite a laugh from Tony. ]

Sure. As okay as you can be stuck on a planet alone.

[ But that's not really fair to Peter, considering, and Tony's pretty tired of taking his lasting frustration out on other people. It doesn't matter for the moment. He's clinging to that. ]

Anyway. We're going to figure it out.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ The dismissal gives Peter pause, makes a muscle in his jaw jump.

It’s not easy for either of them, he knows. This whole thing is— a whole new level of fucked up, and making odd jokes as a way to deflect is totally familiar, so Peter lets it slide.

He scrubs his eyes with his free hand, swallows down his impulse to snap, as he has been since he’s been back. Cage down the ugly words, because they’re not going to help – not him, and definitely not anyone else.

He takes a shuddering breath, lets his hand drop to his lap. Then, ]

Nebula can fly my ship. [ and if his voice sounds duller than usual, he’ll thank Tony not to point it out. ] Maybe you can pick it up, too. Half your problem solved, right there.