There it was. The -- whatever this was. The crux of the matter. Or hope? Maybe both. Tony didn't know some days, not really. He felt forever pulled in different directions when it came to Steve Rogers, but that was because before now right now Steve had never offered or given what he was doing now.
Now here it was. And Tony couldn't help but think of that little girl, too. Of a small and sweet little thing that he no doubt loved with the whole of himself.
He shifted, pulling away enough to sit up because -- fuck it all and them both, it was probably smart to look each other in the face while they were talking about this sort of thing. Even if it was dark. Even if it was easier to speak what was on his mind while staring at the wall, or the inside of his own eyelids.
"Time and dimensional travel are ridiculous," he said slowly, painfully. He'd been thinking about this for just as long as he'd known the truth. "We've already changed a billion variables by being here, in this place. The future that Natasha comes from? It's not even a guarantee that's our future anymore. Did you know that?" He chewed his lip, inhaled sharp enough that it hurt, and that was a good thing because he needed to focus up here. He was just so tired and he felt raw and vulnerable in a way he didn't usually allow for himself. Crying wouldn't add to this, it just wouldn't.
"It's not about -- it's. If you think I wouldn't choose that little girl--" Everything was so frustrating, Tony was certain he was going to drown in it. Well, there went the idea of not crying about it. Tony hated himself just a little bit, right now. Maybe more than a little. "It doesn't matter. The odds are against it. The math is fucked. She's gone. Someone I'll never meet, something I'll never have. And you make yourself sound like some kind of second choice. Like it's that or this and that's not how it works."