Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tony hovers above the wreckage of a neighbourhood in Florida, where first responders dot the perimeter as they pull people out from under stray debris. A woman with seismic powers had faced off against the police in the neighbourhood after robbing a department store - she had lashed out and levelled dozens of homes with a series of shockwaves.

In the distance, just another block along, he can see the tanks rolling in. The woman is still on the loose and ready to flatten another suburb, and Tony is just...hovering here, feeling like a useless idiot, waiting for somebody to give him the green light. The woman raises her hands and blasts three soldiers in full riot gear right off their feet and through somebody’s garage door.

‘You know Ross, you can send me in any day now,’ Tony tells the general over the radio, watching as another group of soldiers cautiously approach the Inhuman.

‘Don’t you have anything else to do, Stark? This is a military operation, you’re not authorised to be here,’ Ross bites back.

‘I just happened to be in the neighbourhood,’ - well, Tony had flown over from New York City the moment he’d seen what was happening on the television - ‘and I figured you’d want to save yourself any further embarrassment. How many hours are we on now?’

‘You’re not authorised to be here,’ Ross repeats. ‘Until I say so, you’re not a part of this op.’

‘Oh, you’ve read the Accords too? Great, well let me remind you of section 2b where it says you can call me in to help with situations beyond the military’s abilities,’ Tony responds, wincing as the woman shatters all the windows on the street with one particularly strong blast.

The next one is even stronger, completely flipping over a tank and blocking off the rest of the road. The three tanks following it come to a standstill, unable to progress any further.

Ross puts a hand over his face. ‘Okay, fine. Go.’

‘Yippee-ki-yay,’ Tony quips as he dives downwards to face off against seismo-gal.

Once Tony steps in, the woman is apprehended in less than ten minutes. Sure, she crushes the Iron Man armour, lands a bad hit that makes Tony’s ribs creak and there’s one particularly scary moment when he thinks he’s going to become a tinned sardine, but he manages to knock her unconscious in the end. In the back of his mind, he can’t help thinking that the old Avengers would’ve been able to contain her in no time flat. Probably without the injuries too. But Tony’s solo on this one and all he can do really is his best.

As the cameras arrive on the scene and reporters start clamouring for Tony to talk to them, Ross appears and breezes straight past Tony without even a glance.

‘You’re dismissed, Stark,’ Ross tells him, stepping forwards to claim the glory. Boom mics clamour towards the general and camera flashes announce his arrival at the press line.

Tony rolls his eyes behind the helmet and flips the faceplate up. He bows with a great flourish to the cameras, blows kisses towards the journalists and says, ‘Enjoy the subpar interview ladies and gentlemen, somebody has to.’

Before Ross can respond, Tony is off.

‘Boss, the Mark VII is too damaged to complete the journey to New York,’ F.R.I.D.A.Y. informs him unhelpfully.

Tony can feel the icy wind slicing through a crack in the armour. He'll probably start shivering in a second. ‘Can we make it to the Miami apartment?’

‘We can. Rerouting now. Would you like me to arrange for the jet to take you back to New York?’ F.R.I.D.A.Y. asks.

‘Go for it,’ Tony says through gritted teeth.

Tony botches the landing at the Miami pad. He crashes onto the platform and smacks into a bulletproof window at the end of the walkway. It doesn’t shatter, which Tony thinks is more humiliating. He rips off the face plate and stares up at the cloudless sky, then tries to inhale deeply and - yes, okay, his ribs are definitely cracked.

‘This blows,’ Tony announces to nobody at all.

Unlike his suit, Tony makes it back to New York in one piece. Pepper meets him on the tarmac with an entire medical team at her disposal, who ascertain that yes, Tony has cracked his ribs and yes, that he also has a concussion. He’ll have to stay awake the whole evening and when Pepper suggests she supervise him overnight, he holds his hand up.

‘You're proposing a sleepover?’ Tony asks.

She chews on her lip. ‘A platonic one, Tony.’

Tony thinks that hurts more than his cracked ribs. ‘I’ll get F.R.I.D.A.Y. to keep me awake. If I doze off, she’ll ring you.'

After the medical team finish up and Pepper drives off in a slinky white Audi, Happy greets him with a wave in the distance. Now that he’s away from prying eyes, Tony allows himself to limp as he drags the remains of the Mark VII behind him in a bin bag. Happy jogs over and takes the bag from Tony effortlessly, the broken pieces of metal clattering against one another. 

Tony is exhausted. Happy has to half-carry him to the Mercedes and pours him into the backseat, where Tony sits boneless and on the verge of unconsciousness. As he finally shuts his eyes, there’s a loud, unimaginable screech in his right earpiece.

Tony jolts awake, jostling his ribs. He swears and holds onto them.

‘Sorry, boss. You need to stay awake,’ F.R.I.D.A.Y. tells him apologetically.

He restrains himself from cursing to high heaven. In the front seat, Happy picks up a paper takeaway bag from Shake Shack and offers it to Tony.

‘There’s a vanilla shake in the front as well,’ Happy tells him.

Tony could cry. ‘Thank you, Happy.’

Happy takes care of the Iron Man shrapnel, makes Tony a cup of coffee unprompted and runs him a bath. Ever since the rest of the team ditched, Happy has been coming into the house more. He leaves takeaway on the kitchen counter and shows up after Tony’s Accords-approved missions to make him coffee and hang out for an hour. Tony knows Happy is worried about him (he knows everybody is) and while he’s embarrassed that Happy is being so watchful, he’s also too lonely to ask him to quit it.

‘Do you want me to stay on, boss?’ Happy asks him.

Tony waves his hand as he sits at the kitchen counter, picking up mug of coffee. ‘It’s the twenty sixth today, right? Don’t you have to go to May Parker’s birthday party or something?’

Happy blinks in surprise, as though he didn’t expect Tony to remember. Then he says, ‘They won’t mind if I’m late.’

Tony rounds on him with a raised eyebrow. ‘Happy. If she doesn't kick your ass for standing her up, then Peter will make your life hell.’

Happy blushes. ‘I don’t know boss, I don't think it's a date. I don’t think I’ll even be able to talk to her. She’ll probably be too busy with her other friends.’

Tony stands and begins pushing Happy out the door, mainly because he knows the man won’t start moving until Tony forces him to. ‘Go. Peter's promised to send me photos of you flirting, so deliver on the goods.’

He manages to get Happy into the lift and hits the carpark button for him. Happy asks finally, ‘Are you sure you I can’t convince you to come, Mr Stark? I'm sure May won't mind.’

‘I'm not crashing your date, I have my own with a set of broken ribs. Don't worry big guy, I can look after myself and I wasn't invited anyways,’ Tony lies. Peter had asked him not one, but three times to come along.

A doubtful expression crosses Happy’s features. He says as the doors shut, ‘If you say so.’

Tony stays awake for the next four hours, but it’s a struggle. He soaks in his bathtub until the water gets cold, analyses the damage report on the Florida incident, tracks down the names of all the civilians affected, arranges for the Maria Stark foundation to reach out to them, begins tweaking a brand new Iron Man suit and starts binging things on Netflix.

Just as he’s about to launch into his third episode of The Great British Bake Off, F.R.I.D.A.Y. freezes the screen and says, ‘Boss. One of the individuals listed as a Potential Threat is requesting access.’

Tony’s heart drops to his feet. He thinks of the crappy black phone Steve had left like a consolation prize on his desk. Surely, surely, Steve wouldn't just show up without even calling? Tony doesn’t even know how he’s going to face him without wanting to grab the closest sharp object.

‘Pulling up the security footage now,’ F.R.I.D.A.Y. informs him and the television swaps to the security feed.

It isn’t Steve.

James Buchanan Barnes is standing at Tony’s front door, wearing a black baseball cap and his hair cropped short. He raises his head and stares unflinchingly into the security camera, the one designed to be nearly invisible to the human eye.

‘What would you like me to do, boss?’ F.R.I.D.A.Y. asks. ‘I can have General Ross on the line in a matter of seconds.’

Tony hasn’t moved in a minute, not since the former assassin sauntered up to his front door and had the gall to ring the doorbell. On camera, Captain America’s best friend shifts from one foot to the next and looks away from the screen. His left arm is missing - it seems he never found a replacement for the one Tony destroyed in Siberia. There’s no sign of a weapon, but Tony has a healing crevasse in his chest and an indecent hospital bill that’s proof Barnes doesn’t need a gun to decimate.

It doesn’t take Tony long to figure out that he isn’t here to pick a fight. He certainly wouldn’t have rung the bell first.

‘Boss?’ F.R.I.D.A.Y. asks again.

Tony chucks his empty milkshake onto the coffee table. He wipes his hands on his trousers. ‘Yeah, I heard you. Hold off on calling Ross. Connect me to Barnes and ready the Mark VIII just in case. Be a queen and pull all the data we have on our naughty boys and girls.’

His workroom bursts into light as profiles for Scott Lang (house arrest, San Francisco), Clint Barton (on the run, last known location Nairobi), Natasha Romanova (on the run, unknown) amongst others appear. He forces himself to look at one of them - Steve Rogers, on the run, last known location Nairobi - and flicks through his notes on the super soldier. Most likely current location: Wakanda. Known accomplices: Clint Barton, the Winter Soldier.

Barnes looks up again at the camera as F.R.I.D.A.Y. connects the line. His eyes are so pale, Tony can barely make the ring of them out on the security footage.

‘Where’s your boyfriend, Barnes?’ Tony asks. ‘He about to crash the party too?’

The man on screen begins to speak, but then clears his throat. In all honesty, Tony doesn’t remember what the man’s voice sounds like (they were busy fighting for the most part) and it’s higher than he remembers. Strong Brooklyn twang though.

Barnes mutters, ‘Steve’s not with me. I came by myself.’

‘And you thought, what? That I’d just invite you in? Yeah, not happening,’ Tony says snidely, tapping on found footage of Steve Rogers at a market in Africa.

Barnes looks away from the camera. He mumbles, ‘I need to talk. About what happened. I want to-’

‘I don’t want any part in your redemption arc, Barnes,’ Tony bites out.

Tony drops to his knees and pulls out a small cuff from underneath the sofa, clipping it onto his arm. In a matter of seconds, an Iron Man gauntlet has crawled up his arm and over his face. He has the repulsor and mask ready to go until F.R.I.D.A.Y. sends up the full suit - he flexes his fingers experimentally and then points it in the direction of the lift just in case he forces his way in.

Tony barks, ‘You can either get the hell out of here before I blow you to high heaven, or before I call Ross and sicc the US military on your ass. Your pick.’

Barnes stares into the camera. He says, ‘I’m not here to hurt you.’

Tony slams his fist on the table before the words are even out of his mouth and a loud alarm blares through the penthouse, startling Barnes into movement. Within seconds, the assassin disappears and all the air dries up inside the Iron Man mask as Tony begins to gasp, cold sweat trickling down the base of his neck. His chest tightens in pain and he’s in Siberia again, in the cold. He can’t breathe. He can’t-

Fingers, not his own, begin scrabbling at his mask. As if from underneath a metre of snow, he hears a voice calling his name.

‘-ny? Tony? Open up the damn mask, what’s-’

The faceplate flips up after somebody finds the emergency release. Tony takes a huge gulp of fresh air, like a diver surfacing from a shipwreck. Rhodey’s face blurs into vision, framed by an open War Machine plate with each of his guns humming and ready to blast.

‘Tones, what happened? F.R.I.D.A.Y. told me to get here ASAP,’ Rhodey says, wiping at Tony’s wet brow with the back of his hand.

‘Attack,’ Tony manages. ‘Panic attack.’

‘Tony, come on man, you’ve gotta breathe. F.R.I.D.A.Y., how do I get this off him?’

Rhodey eventually pries off the cuff. Tony staggers into his friend as the armour, the only thing really keeping him standing, completely disassembles. His world narrows to Rhodey’s low voice mumbling under his breath: in, and out, in, and out, Tony. In, and out.

When his tongue is no longer lead in his mouth, Tony spits, ‘Barnes. He was here just now.’

‘He what? Are you alright? What did he want?’ Rhodey demands.

Tony throws up and tastes iron in his mouth, then a spike of Arctic air on his next haggard gasp.

The day after, Tony goes silent. He overhears Rhodey on the phone, telling his commanding officer he’ll be unavailable till the end of the week. He eats the food placed before him and he doesn’t touch the lock on the alcohol cabinet. Happy brings them breakfast every morning. Tony methodically, manually updates the rolling list of names on the server. (Winter Soldier, on the run. Last known location: New York.)

Rhodey begs him to tell Ross, threatens to tell him anyways and Tony...doesn’t tell the government a god damn thing. He does however raise the security in the house, triangulates every possible and impossible location a Russian-trained sniper could fire from and has to be dragged from his workshop by Pepper at 6am after Rhodey gives up trying to get him to sleep. Rhodey doesn’t tell Pepper about Barnes, thankfully. It’s another secret from her he gets to keep.

“I thought you were doing better,” she tells him on the landing. “I thought you were doing okay.”

“I am, Pep. This is just loose wiring,” Tony insists.

She tells him not for the first time, “You need to talk to somebody, Tony.”

He gestures at a lounge that used to teem with people. “I'm talking to you and Rhodey, aren’t I?”

“I don’t think we’re enough anymore, Tones,” Rhodey says from the counter, where he has politely pretended not to be listening. He’s always been a terrible actor.

Later that evening, Tony fishes out a manila folder buried under a pile of useless tech. He opens it and tips a chunk of antiquated black plastic onto the table with a clatter.

You need to keep your dog on a tighter leash, Tony types into the burner phone Steve handed to him. His thumb hesitates over the acrylic green send button.

He remembers Steve tearing into his chest with the shield his own father crafted, the unimaginable crack of his arc reactor. And then he remembers Steve desperately peering over the edge of his faceplate one fateful New York afternoon, his look of baffled joy as Tony drank the earth’s atmosphere in - breath after shuddering breath.

He doesn’t send the message. It goes, as so many others have, straight into drafts.

Barnes doesn’t come back. A week passes, then another, then Tony starts to sleep more easily. He stops trying to miniaturise weaponry and only checks his list of names every few days now. The panic attacks continue and after a particularly bad one, he finally goes with Rhodey to a discreet doctor. She prescribes him a batch of anti-anxiety meds and asks him to come in again for group therapy. The doctor hums over Tony’s previous PTSD diagnosis, then scribbles something beside it on her notepad.

After Rhodey watches him pop the first pill and makes him noncommittally agree that he’ll attend one session, his friend packs up his gear and leaves reluctantly. The house is quiet again.

Tony never goes to group therapy, but he does take the meds. They help, until he sees a news report on television while walking through the R&D department at Stark Tower. He catches a glimpse of Steve Rogers (threat level: unknown), dressed in onyx armour and evacuating a warzone in Afghanistan alongside the rest of the Rogues. The words beneath it blare: CAPTAIN AMERICA, CRIMINAL OR HERO?

Pepper barks an order for the screen to be turned off immediately and a startled lab tech fumbles with the remote before it hums to black. She and Tony walk to the lift in silence.

“Are you okay?” she asks, once the doors close. Tony thinks he can actually hear the eggshells she’s treading on.

“I told you,” he says, sharper than he means to. “I’m fine. I’m just tired.”

She asks again, “Have you been to therapy yet?”

Unprompted, rage fills every square inch of Tony’s body in a flood and he grits his teeth. This is a different kind of fury, a coldness that he doesn’t recognise, and he snaps, “You said before you didn’t want anything to do with this part of my life, Pep.”

“What else am I meant to do?” she asks. “You froze back there, the moment that Steve-”

Tony smacks a button on the lift, forcing it to stop at a random floor. The doors slide open, he steps out. He just needs to get away from her, get somewhere quiet where he can hear his own breathing over his roaring pulse.

She says, “Tony, I’m doing this because I love you.”

“Love, guilt, whatever. For once in your life, just accept you can't fix everything and we'll all be better off,” he tells her.

What am I saying? Tony thinks. He doesn’t mean a word of it. Or maybe he means it all.

He watches as Pepper hardens over like a glacier, right before the lift doors shut and take her away from him. Tony makes it to the fire escape and stands on the top step, his stomach churning as he puts his head in his hands and tries to catch his breath. He thinks something shattered between them. Something finally broke.

Tony walks up to his alcohol cabinet afterwards at home, still lined with bottles of vintage wines and rare whiskey blends. He holds the lock in his hands and stares at it for a long time. Then he lets go. 

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., remind me where I put the glasses for B.A.R.F. again?” he asks, staring at the ceiling in the empty lounge.

A calming blue light passes over the household. After a second, her Irish brogue carries through the house, “They’re in the lab underneath your Black Sabbath shirt, Boss.”

“They have great taste in music. Fire up the housing unit for me, will you?” Tony asks, already making his shaky way across to his personal lab. When he gets in, Dummy is already poorly sliding the slats into place for B.A.R.F. as You attempts to finesse the placement, chirping agitatedly.

Tony snatches the glasses and pops them on his face, striding over to stand between B.A.R.F.’s four poles. He presses a button and a holographic white room forms, complete with a drop down menu for Tony to explore which memories he wants to rehash next.

Gently, F.R.I.D.A.Y. asks, “Which simulation would you like today?”

Tony reaches his hands out and a number of video thumbnails appear, each titled something different. Pepper proposal. Afghanistan Yinsen. Steve kitchen. Sokovia. Mom and Dad last conversation. Steve and Bucky fight.

“Let’s say hello to the family then,” Tony says, rolling up his sleeves.

The room dissolves into the old living room at Stark mansion and Tony’s ears are full of piano music, daylight filtering through the gossamer curtains. The sweet sound of a woman singing - never quite as low as Tony remembers - carries through the lab and Maria Stark materialises on the seat of a grand piano; the one Tony auctioned off the week his parents passed away. It felt wrong that it should live on, collecting dust in the mansion, without his mother to lift its lid and pass her hand over its teeth.

Howard walks through the door, fiddling with his cufflinks. The music stops and Maria shifts on the stool, smiling.

“Wake up dear,” she tells Tony for the hundredth time. “And say goodbye to your father.”

Steve is seen in Japan next with Sam and Natasha, barrelling into a nuclear waste site to stop a leak. Barnes on the other hand is a mystery. Tony works less on the suit and more on B.A.R.F., upgrading it and transforming it into something else - something more sophisticated. Spending all those nights with his dead parents isn’t healthy, but at least - he jokes - he’s not alone.

The New Avengers are called out and placed on standby for their first major mission just down the road from Stark Tower. There’s been a terror attack and a skyscraper in Manhattan has just been targeted by suicide bombers. Rhodey, who isn't even an official member, is miles away but en route - it could take him at least three hours to get to New York. Vision, as usual, doesn’t even pick up the call. Iron Man’s going to be alone on this one again.

Although Tony has gnashed his teeth and shouted down the phone at Ross to just send him in already, Ross delays and delays to prove some stupid point to him. He sits on the landing platform at Stark Tower watching the smoke careen out of shattered windows down the road, all dressed up with nowhere to go.

Tony’s phone flashes with a message from Spider-Man. We going in mr stark?

‘F.R.I.D.A.Y., tell arachno-toddler he’s not on the team,’ Tony tells her.

It doesn’t take long for him to get a response. But theyre going to send you in right??

Tony doesn’t reply.

‘We got any intel on what these guys want?’ Tony asks F.R.I.D.A.Y. instead.

She responds, ‘They're confirmed Sokovian nationals. They targeted the foreign secretary and sent a list of demands prior to the attack. However, you didn’t hear it from me as it would be illegal to listen in on military frequencies, boss.’

‘A regular chip off the old block. So this guy’s a straggler?’ Tony asks.

‘It appears so,’ she confirms.

He asks, ‘What’s he doing now?’

F.R.I.D.A.Y. reports, ‘He appears to be heading to the roof. He-’

The fire alarm screeches through the air and people begin filing out of the building in confusion.

‘-he has pulled the fire alarm,’ she finishes.

‘He’s evacuating the building, I don’t think he wants to hurt anybody. I think I can talk to him,’ Tony says.

‘Respectfully boss, I think you’re the last person a Sokovian terrorist would be willing to talk to,’ she tells him, and she’s not wrong. He’s not exactly Sokovia's next top model nowadays.

‘I’m the only person who won’t immediately put a bullet in his head,’ Tony tells her.

Tony touches down on the roof and as his jets fade to silence, the door at the other end flies open. A wide-eyed boy, about Peter Parker’s age, stands there wearing a bomb belt and a detonator tucked securely into the strap. The moment he spots Tony’s shining armour, his hand goes for the button.

‘No!’ Tony shouts, flipping his face plate up.

The boy stops miraculously, staring at Tony. Tony allows the Iron Man armour to fade away, leaving him with nothing but a ratty band tee and jeans as his last line of defense. F.R.I.D.A.Y. begins nattering in his ear about potential threats and how this is almost certainly a bad idea, but he slowly holds his hands out - palms upward - to the boy.

‘Look, I just want to talk. Can we just talk?’ Tony asks him. ‘What’s your name?’

The boy doesn’t move a muscle.

Patiently, Tony continues, ‘Not feeling too chatty, huh? Well, I’ll start. I’m Tony-’

‘I know who you are,’ he spits out.

‘Then you know that I could have attacked you the moment you stepped on this rooftop, but I didn’t,’ Tony tells him levelly.

‘You wouldn’t have. I have the belt,’ the boy says, his hand moving towards the button.

‘Okay, let’s not do that. Not everybody’s out of the building yet,’ Tony tells him, though it’s a bald-faced lie. F.R.I.D.A.Y. told him they had all left just a few minutes ago.

The boy’s hand wavers. Tony takes a chance to really observe the belt, a shoddily made thing with a mess of wires feeding into metal rods and boxes. He follows the connections, trying to figure out how to disarm it.

F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice crackles into life in his earpiece. She tells him, ‘Boss, General Ross is en route with the military. What would you like me to tell him?’

Hell. If Ross and his cronies make it here, then Tony knows they won’t think twice before shooting the teen dead where he stands. Tony genuinely thinks he can get through to him.

‘My friends are on the way here, but I’m going to tell them to stay away - okay? It can just be the two of us, just the two of us having a talk,’ Tony says. ‘Does that sound okay to you?’

The boy nods finally.

‘Ross is calling, boss,’ F.R.I.D.A.Y. tells him.

‘Right now, it’s just you and me,’ Tony says pointedly, knowing F.R.I.D.A.Y. will read into the order to bar Ross’s calls. ‘And we’re going to figure this out on our own. Do you think you can tell me your name now?’

‘Sasha,’ the boy offers in a clipped, accented voice. ‘From Sokovia.’

‘Okay then, Sasha. Thank you for trusting me,’ Tony tells him as his eyes comb over the nest of wires attached to Sasha’s belt, looking for a way to disarm it.

‘My sister. Ana. She was in the first bombing. Is she…?’ the boy asks.

‘As far as I know, there were no survivors. I’m sorry,’ Tony tells him.

Sasha nods, as though he already knew. Tears begin streaming down his face, silently at first, then he begins hopelessly crying. He sways on his feet and Tony jumps when Sasha suddenly puts a hand on the metal door frame for support with a bang. Tony’s weak heart rate skyrockets.

‘You don’t have to do this, you know. I can get you in and out of that belt in a second, if you’d like me to,’ Tony tells him.

‘I have to. Hydra will put me in the chair like they did to Ana if I don’t,’ Sasha tells him, his words barely legible through the tears.

Hydra. The name leaves a bad taste in his mouth and he thinks instantly of Bucky, the hold the organisation had over him. But he needs to focus on the kid.

‘You don’t have to,’ Tony tells him, stepping closer carefully, ‘There are other ways to serve your country.’

‘Boss,’ F.R.I.D.A.Y. interrupts urgently. ‘There’s a call you need to take right now. About the bomb.’

Under his breath and barely moving his lips, Tony manages a small ‘okay’. F.R.I.D.A.Y. connects the line and he steels himself for an earful from Ross. Instead, a voice he last heard through an intercom speaks.

‘Stark,’ Barnes begins. ‘The bomb can be detonated by a third party. The rest of the bombs in downtown Manhattan were operated remotely, you need to get to that belt before someone else pulls the trigger.’

Tony thinks about putting the suit back on again, but he knows it’ll panic Sasha. He does the maths - at a push, he can get it on in three seconds flat. Not enough time to fully protect himself if the kid’s belt goes off. He’s close enough that it would be an instant death.

A flash of silver appears on one of the distant rooftops, the barrel of a sniper gun. Tony knows Barnes would never make a rookie mistake like reveal his position on accident; he’s obviously signposting to Tony that he’s nearby. Tony grits his teeth.

‘Ross hasn’t found the remote operator yet, so the belt could blow at any time. I have a clear shot if you need it,’ Barnes tells him, leaving the ball in Tony’s court.

There isn’t time to ask how the hell Barnes managed to get into both Ross and Tony’s encrypted lines. Tony instead shakes his head, knowing Barnes will see it through his sniper scope. Instead, he asks, ‘Sasha, would you like me to help you take off that belt?’

‘What will happen to me afterwards?’ Sasha asks, tears dripping off his chin.

‘Honestly, I don’t know kid. But I do know that unless we get the belt off, we’ll never get to find out,’ Tony says.

Sasha glances up at the blue sky arcing over them, closing his eyes. Then ever so slightly, he nods.

‘I’m going to come over slowly, is that okay with you?’ Tony tells him.

‘That’s okay,’ Sasha repeats.

‘I’m also going to tell my friends that you’re co-operating, because I know they’re worried about me. Is that okay?’ Tony lies. Ross wouldn’t have cared less if Tony rotted in the suit at the bottom of the Atlantic, but Tony does need to let him know so he doesn’t barge in guns blazing.

‘That’s okay,’ Sasha repeats again.

Tony makes a big deal of holding his fingers to an invisible earpiece, pretending he’s initiating a call and says, ‘F.R.I.D.A.Y., could you tell Ross that me and Sasha are getting along swimmingly? He’s going to let me disarm his belt. After that, Sasha and I are going to sit down with somebody and figure out what happens next.’

Sasha nods shakily.

‘Got it, boss,’ F.R.I.D.A.Y. says.

Tony reaches Sasha, asks him to spread his arms wide ever so carefully and begins to inspect the bomb belt. Barnes is still on the line, Tony can hear his slow breaths in and out. In, and out.  

Any second now, a Hydra agent could press a button and both Tony and Sasha would go up in smoke. Tony tries not to focus on that and instead carefully sorts through the nest of wires on Sasha’s belt. He has to cut a blue wire which connects it to the detonator, as well as disarm a wire to the remote transmitter. But there’s a chance that if he cuts one before the other, it might trigger an explosion. There are so many variables here and not enough time to figure it all out.

‘I’m here, if you need me,’ Barnes says quietly. His voice is steady, grounding.

Tony almost wants to laugh. He could die at any moment, with a kid from a country he destroyed and the man who murdered his parents for company. At this point, it’s hilarious that it doesn’t even sound out of the ordinary.

‘Alright,’ Tony tells Sasha, deciding it’s now or never. ‘We’re going to get you out of this.’

Sasha looks up, meets Tony’s eyes. He nods and Tony sees a glint of silver over his shoulder as Barnes shifts in the distance.

Tony tells him, ‘Take a deep breath.’

Sasha does. Tony doesn't. He cuts the wires.

There was a day, months ago, when Tony had come back from some gala dinner all trussed up in a tux and bow tie. He had been exhausted the whole time - schmoozing was just so much harder when alcohol wasn’t involved - and he slipped into the Avengers tower alone. On the way to his floor, he slipped into the kitchen on the communal floor. He found Steve alone at the marble counter, a cup of milky tea in his hands and a Stark pad at his fingertips.

‘You’re back early,’ Steve commented with a raised eyebrow.

Tony pulled open the fridge and yanked out a bottle of water. ‘I had to be, Fairy Godmother said I only had till midnight.’

‘If I'm following this analogy right, Colonel Rhodes is your Fairy Godmother?’ Steve responded.

Tony smirked, opening his bottle of water. 'He just looks so fetching in a blue dress.'

‘I'm sure he does, but you didn't hear it from me,’ Steve said. ‘I’m trying not to piss off the brass. Anymore.’

‘You know, you’d think they would’ve given you a promotion along with your purple heart,’ Tony commented.

‘It’s the least they could have done, I literally died for the country,’ Steve agreed.

Tony’s eyes dropped to the screen of Steve’s StarkPad, catching a glimpse of a metal arm and long unruly hair. Steve’s eyes followed and he self-consciously swiped the screen into darkness, hiding the Winter Soldier’s case file.

‘I was just checking if there was something I missed,’ Steve said.

Tony paused, then reached over, ignoring the roaring of his heart in his ears. Steve looked up as Tony slid his hand over his.

‘We’ll find Bucky. Together,’ Tony told him.

Tired of the simulation, Tony tears the glasses off his face. The Avengers Tower lounge disappears around him as B.A.R.F. powers down. Steve and past Tony fade away with it, but the weight of that night stays with him as he remembers the warmth of Steve’s shoulder and the painful distance across the table.

‘Boss? Mr. Fury is downstairs and requesting access,’ F.R.I.D.A.Y. tells him.

It’s times like these that Tony wishes he still had Pepper around to make nice with the suits. Tony is a stubborn man, but Fury is persistent. If he doesn’t see him, the man will only come again and again.

‘Send him up to the lounge. I’ll be up in a second,’ Tony tells her, tossing the billion dollar glasses on a side table.

When Tony walks into the lounge, Fury is sitting at the adjoining marble kitchen counter - not in the same place Steve once sat, but in the seat closest to the door. He’s already made himself an espresso.

‘Stark. Pleasure,’ Fury states.

‘Oh, Nick. Still sociable as ever. Is it time for our Queer Eye night already?’ Tony says, sinking into the couch.

Fury doesn’t waste any time. He says, ‘F.R.I.D.A.Y., could you connect my device to the television please?’

‘Certainly, Mr. Fury,’ she responds and the TV before Tony flickers to life.

‘Hey, don’t go bossing my A.I. around,’ Tony says grumpily.

‘It was lovely to be asked nicely for once,’ she responds pointedly.

‘Thank you, F.R.I.D.A.Y.,’ Fury says to her.

‘You’re very welcome, sir,’ she responds. ‘If there’s anything else I can do, please let me know.’

Tony points a finger accusingly at the ceiling. ‘Stop flirting, I raised you to have better taste than this.’

Fury throws a low quality video on the screen. He turns to him. ‘If you’re quite done, Stark…?’

‘Yes, yes, show me your little YouTube clip,’ Tony says dismissively.

The video begins playing and Tony recognises it immediately. It’s the day he met Sasha, filmed from a building way away or a police helicopter. He watches as past Tony unravels the suit and reaches out to the kid. Although it felt like it had taken hours, the exchange is over onscreen in just a couple of minutes; Tony defuses the bomb peacefully and then Ross’ troops storm the rooftop. Immediately, Tony launches into the full Iron Man suit and stands by the kid; shouting that he’s not a threat anymore. After a heated exchange, they’re allowed to go quietly into the stairwell. Tony feels exhausted all over again just watching it.

‘You did well, Stark. De-escalating the situation was the right call. The kid’s been giving valuable intel to the feds and your Charles Spencer foundation has been reaching out to their network of Sokovian nationals, making sure nobody else gets snared into Hydra’s web,’ Fury tells him once the video stops.

Fury never gives compliments without some catch. Tony asks, ‘And…?’

‘And it’s surprising that you had some unauthorised help. I never thought I’d see the day you teamed up with the Winter Soldier, given your past history,’ Fury says.

Tony’s blood runs cold.

‘One of our operatives caught sight of him on a rooftop nearby, packing some serious heat. And after reviewing the footage, I believe you were talking to him,’ Fury says, rewinding the footage to the exact second Tony shakes his head, ‘as this matches up with the moment they say Barnes lowered his gun.’

Another video begins playing onscreen of Barnes from a gigantic distance.

‘I’m not going to ask if you’re working with him. I just need to know if he’s a threat,’ Fury says.

I’m here, if you need me, Tony remembers. The slow, steady breaths.

‘I don’t know,’ Tony says honestly. ‘He just showed up.’

'Just showed up?' Fury repeats.

Tony shrugs.

‘We believe he’s been in operation around the United States. We were able to identify him recently in the background of a social media post taken at the Smithsonian, at the Captain America exhibit,’ Fury says, throwing an Instagram post up on the screen. And there Bucky is in the corner, gaunt-faced in that terrible baseball cap and staring at a gigantic photograph of the Howling Commandos in their prime.

‘He hasn’t posed a threat to me recently, but I don’t know if that could change,’ Tony says, feeling his stomach clench.

‘Individuals...familiar, shall we say, with his situation have said that he hasn’t been fully deprogrammed yet. There could still be people out there that could take advantage,’ Fury says.

‘Well, you can tell these ‘individuals’ to come pick him up then. Or just throw him in the RAFT to rot, like they should’ve done years ago,’ Tony responds.

Fury raises an eyebrow at Tony’s outburst. He raises his espresso to his lips and takes a long, deliberate slip.

Fury then continues, ‘They hit a wall with Barnes’ rehabilitation programme two months ago. That said, they seemed to think that your new memory tech - B.A.R.F., was it? - could help him. They saw your presentation at MIT about it.’

Two months ago was when Barnes first showed up on Tony’s doorstep, asking for help. Well, at least Tony knows what he wanted from him now.  Tony sidesteps whatever Fury is trying to tell him. He asks, ‘Have you told Ross?’

‘No, I haven’t. But, I’m sure I don’t have to tell you to be careful,’ Fury tells him evenly.

Big words, coming from somebody who almost certainly still keeps up with Nat and Clint. Tony wouldn’t be surprised if Steve had given Fury a burner phone too. Fury finishes his espresso and pours the rest of it down the sink, rinsing out the cup. It’s more unsettling to see Fury being so ordinary and domestic, than barking questions down Tony’s throat.

‘You should bring that Parker boy in more. Not every mission will go as well as the last one,’ Fury tells him idly.

‘He’s too young and his Accords agreements is complicated,’ Tony responds. He isn’t even going to query how Fury knows who Spider-Man is, Peter doesn’t stand a chance against a super spy and his network of informants.

‘You always find your way around these things,’ Fury says dismissively. ‘You can’t do all these missions alone. You need a new team, Stark. The old one isn’t coming back.’

Maybe Tony should have just blown himself up with the bomb belt. Tony tells him,  ‘I know that.’

Fury sets his cup down in the sink with a clack.

‘Talk to the Spider kid,’ Fury tells him again, then leaves.

The rooftop isn’t the last time Barnes shows up. Tony spots the discreet barrel of a sniper rifle at his next three missions and Barnes winds up actually saving his life on one of them, warning him about a perp waiting to ambush him around a corner. F.R.I.D.A.Y. doesn’t even ask for permission before connecting Barnes to his line automatically anymore. It’s a given that the man is out there, lurking in the shadows like some creepy sidekick.

The fourth mission is bigger than all of the rest put together - a supernatural attack in Tulsa. Even Tony for once has to admit that he can’t manage this one on his own and begrudgingly takes Fury’s advice. He calls Peter.

‘Mr Stark! Have you seen the TV?’ Peter blurts the moment the call is connected. ‘There’s these giant aliens in Oklahoma and-’

‘You’re about to get a front row seat, kid. You’re off the bench, get your suit together and meet me downstairs in five minutes,’ Tony tells him.

‘What? Are you for real?’ Peter says, ‘This is crazy, I’ve never met an alien before and-’

‘Tell me in the car - wait on second thought, don’t. Five minutes,’ Tony repeats and hangs up the phone.

Happy pulls up outside Peter’s nondescript apartment complex and the kid comes barrelling out, blue adidas backpack in hand. He clambers into the back of the car with Tony and unzips the bag, yanking his suit out.

‘So what’s the plan, Mr Stark? They were saying there’s about forty of these suckers tearing through the town and they’ve sent the air force in to handle them,’ Peter says. ‘Oh, also, hi Happy.’

‘Mr Parker,’ Happy greets him, flashing him a smile in the rearview mirror.

‘Aunt May says hi,’ Peter says.

Happy instantly goes red. He mumbles, ‘I say hi too?’

‘As cute as this is, we’ve got to go stop some aliens. Peter, you and I are going to just be extra backup. You’re going to stick close to me and we’re going to listen to the general’s orders, otherwise they’ll lock us both up,’ Tony tells him.

‘Isn’t your whole thing that you don’t play by the rules?’ Peter asks curiously.

Tony takes his sunglasses off, tucks them into his blazer pocket. ‘You can’t save lives and piss off Ross from prison, bud. Plus, the public needs to start trusting superheroes again - optics-wise, going against the orders of the US government isn’t a great start. You saw what happened to the Rogues.’

Peter side eyes him. ‘What, you mean like how the Rogues save the world on a regular basis?’

‘I meant more like how they’re international fugitives and probably will never see any metaphorical aunts in Queens again,’ Tony says pointedly, ignoring the pain of the low blow.

Peter flushes. ‘Right.’

Although Tony’s downplaying the situation, he knows this gig is going to be tough. The military have been chipping away at the alien forces over the past 36 hours and they’ve hardly made a dent - Tony and Peter will probably be doing the bulk of the work and Tony really hates dragging the kid into high pressure situations.

‘F.R.I.D.A.Y., what’s Rhodey saying?’ Tony asks.

‘The Colonel has left Afghanistan and is en route to Tulsa, boss. He’ll be with you in six hours,’ she informs him.

Tony can feel a migraine coming on. That means that at most, they can count on Rhodey as late backup. Vision still isn’t replying to messages and although he could do with a handful of extra superheroes, he absolutely is not going to pick up that stupid black phone and call Steve Rogers.

If Tony had been going in alone, he wouldn’t have been stressing out so much. Tony can handle being outmanned and outgunned, he’s faced worse odds. However this time he has Peter with him, which means he can’t just go in repulsors blazing with a death wish.

Tony massages his temples. ‘F.R.I.D.A.Y., run me a scan of the nearest Accords-approved Inhumans please.’

‘The nearest Accords-approved Inhuman is Daniel Thomas, located in New Jersey,’ she responds.

‘What’s his deal?’ Tony asks.

‘He is able to create bubbles out of organic matter.’

Peter sniggers. ‘Maybe we can throw the aliens a birthday party.’

‘If I may boss, there is one Inhuman on your Naughty List who is close by and whose combat abilities you are familiar with,’ F.R.I.D.A.Y. ventures.

Peter’s gaze rounds on Tony curiously. Tony can’t believe it’s come to this.

‘There’s no way of getting through to him, we don’t know his movements and we don’t have his phone number,’ Tony says stubbornly. ‘And I hate him.’

‘He has used the same number every time he made contact and hasn’t changed it since. I have been able to triangulate his position using the cell towers in the area - he is several blocks away, if you would like me to update Happy’s route with the new information,’ she responds.

Tony blinks in in surprise. Barnes hasn’t changed his phone number? He thought that was super spy 101, to discard numbers and phones regularly so that the feds wouldn’t be able to track you down. A former Hydra operative would be much too smart for that, which means...that Barnes wanted Tony to have his number so he could reach out to him, Tony realises. Or at least know his position, for some reason. Tony can feel a migraine coming on.

Christ. He’ll figure it out after the mission.

Tony says reluctantly, ‘Update Happy’s route. And call ahead to let him know we’re coming.’

‘Are we picking up Captain America?’ Peter asks, positively vibrating with excitement.

Happy glances at Tony in the rear view mirror, checking him for a reaction. Tony doesn’t say anything for a second, then manages, ‘No, we’re not.’

‘Aw man, for a second I thought you guys had made up,’ Peter grumbles.

‘Drop it, kid,’ Tony says shortly.

‘Yikes,’ Peter says, sinking back into his seat. He toys with the sleeve of the Spider-Man suit peeking out of his backpack, avoiding Tony’s gaze.

Tony feels so old. He’ll apologise to Peter for snapping later, but he needs to focus on not having a panic attack right now in the back of the car. He can’t imagine what he’s about to do, but these aliens aren’t exactly leaving him any options.

Happy rolls up to a rough part of the neighbourhood and Tony sees the faces pass, peering curiously at the Mercedes that absolutely does not belong there. In the distance, Tony spots a man leaning against the wall of a Bed-Stuy tenement building with a cigarette in his mouth. His hair is cropped short, he wears a baseball cap and Tony really doesn’t want to go talk to him.

Shocked, Peter asks, ‘Is that…?’

Although he’s been silent for the whole trip, Happy interjects, ‘Boss, this doesn’t seem like a good idea.’

‘Everybody, stop it. Both of you, stay in the car and don’t do anything. Peter, seriously, put on the mask so he doesn’t figure out who you are. And Happy - don’t you dare tell Pepper or Rhodey,’ Tony warns him.

Tony opens the door as Peter begins putting on his suit. Barnes’ eyes flicker upwards towards Tony, then back down again as he takes a long drag of his cigarette with his only hand.

Tony doesn’t need to be nice. Tony needs to be efficient. He says, ‘You’ve seen the news?’

‘’Bout the aliens in Tulsa?’ Barnes asks, letting out a stream of smoke. ‘You going out there?’

‘Right now. It’s a big mission,’ Tony says. Please don’t make me spell it out, Tony thinks. Even looking at Barnes is a trial in itself, he’s barely keeping a lid on his desire to scream, tear the street apart and cry all at once.

‘Sounds like it,’ Barnes responds noncommittally.

And, because Tony can’t bear the thought of being beholden to this man in any way, he states his terms. ‘I’m bringing in a newbie and I need someone to keep an eye on him. If you come with me now, afterwards you get to talk for one minute. And I’ll listen.’

Barnes stubs his cigarette out and his silvery eyes meet Tony’s. He responds, ‘Let me get my stuff upstairs.’

‘I’m not promising it’ll come to anything,’ Tony warns him. ‘And this doesn’t change the past.’

Barnes nods, as though he never expected it to. ‘I know.’

Somehow, that rankles Tony even more.

‘We’ll wait for five. If you’re not back by then, we’re gone,’ Tony tells him.

Barnes nods, then disappears into the building. Tony returns to the car feeling like a spring crushed in a can, ready to explode at a moment’s notice. He sits in the back with Peter, tugging down the kid’s mask where he hasn’t fully covered his neck up, and undoes his own shirt cuffs.

‘We going, boss?’ Happy asks.

In a clipped voice, Tony tells him, ‘Five minutes.’

Barnes doesn’t even take two. The car shakes as he throws a massive bag full of weaponry into the boot and Happy actually flinches, before he settles his hands back on the steering wheel calmly. The former Hydra agent opens the back door and Peter awkwardly shifts over to the weird middle seat as all six foot four of the man dominates the car.

‘Um. Hi,’ Peter greets him. ‘You probably don’t remember me, which is totally cool by the way, but-’

‘You’re the kid from the airport,’ Barnes remembers and Tony can feel the pressure mounting in his chest. He didn’t realise they’d encountered each other in that fight.

‘Yeah,’ Peter tells him shyly.

A small twinge pulls at the corner of Barnes’ mouth. ‘You laid me and Sam out.’

‘Um,’ Peter panics. ‘Um.’

‘Good to see you’re still in one piece,’ Barnes tells him gruffly.

‘Uh, I’ve been taking it easy recently? And it’s good to see you’re in one piece too. Even if we were on opposite sides last time though, oh god, did I say one piece?’ Peter blathers on nervously. ‘I didn’t mean one piece, not that you’re not in one piece because you technically are - I just mean that I’m sorry your arm is missing now-’

At that, Tony and Barnes both freeze. Peter continues dithering, though Barnes’ eyes flicker towards Tony for a split second. Tony shakes his head imperceptibly, implying that Peter doesn’t know that Tony blasted his arm to high heaven, and the muscle in Barnes’ jaw tightens.

‘-it’s just you know I’d never been out on a mission like that before and you were right there and then-’

‘Spidey,’ Tony cuts in. ‘Cool it.’

Peter visibly deflates. ‘Oh. Oh, yeah, right. Sorry Mr Stark.’

They sit for the rest of the car ride in silence till they reach the jet. Tony steps out first, putting his sunglasses on as the hot sun bears down upon them, and then Peter follows closely behind with his schoolbag clutched in his arms. Barnes quietly picks up his mysterious bag and waits patiently for Tony’s instructions.

‘Happy, go ahead with Spider-Man,’ Tony tells him in a tone that leaves no room for argument.

The white door of the plane hisses and a staircase unfolds from it, waiting for the team to step in. Peter begrudgingly goes with Happy, while Tony and Barnes follow behind at a much slower pace.

‘Are you going to be able to fight with one arm?’ Tony asks him.

Barnes nods, adjusting his duffle strap. ‘Not as well, but I can keep the kid safe.’

‘Good. I’m not building you another one,’ Tony states, breezing ahead of the man to join Peter on the jet.

Tony manages to keep it together while he and F.R.I.D.A.Y. programme the jet’s coordinates, all throughout takeoff and the first fifteen minutes of blissful level air after the seat belt light dings off. By that point, Peter is fast asleep and curled up on one of the jet’s plush couches. Barnes quietly watches the live feed of the invasion on a flat screen.

Tony passes him without a word and heads to the bathroom stoically. But the moment that the lock clicks in the door, his heart rate is up. He pulls down the toilet lid and sits down heavily on it, reaching out frantically with one hand to turn on the tap and drown out the sound of the organ slamming against his rib cage. His mouth gapes for air, he puts his head in his hands and his stomach twists, and twists, and knots.

After the attack subsides, he spends a long time staring at the grey floor beneath his feet in exhaustion. Then he pushes himself up off the seat, splashes cold water onto his face and gets on with it.

When he steps out, he meets Barnes eyes and he politely averts them. Tony’s lip curls. Of course - super soldier. Steve was always able to hear him too.

Instead of taking one of the many couches or sitting opposite Barnes in his little booth, Tony makes a beeline for Peter’s seat. Even though the kid’s taking up the whole love seat, he gently lifts his legs, sits down beside him and drops them back onto his lap. Peter doesn’t even stir, but Tony’s heart eventually settles as he stares out the window - ignoring the looks the super soldier throws his way from time to time.

When the plane touches down, a figure flanked by military personnel strides hurriedly towards the quinjet on the tarmac. Tony grits his teeth - it’s Ross and his cronies. He glances at Barnes who is already on his feet, quietly picking up his rifle bag as he slips in a sleek onyx earpiece. Wakandan, Tony notices idly. Well, that explains where he’s been the whole time.

He looks at Tony.

Tony realises with a jolt that Barnes is waiting for him to tell him what to do. Tony inhales and slaps the button to lower the ramp as he taps on his briefcase, which embraces him in shells of red and gold.

‘F.R.I.D.A.Y., once Spider-Man and I are off the ramp go into stealth mode. Drop Barnes off somewhere nearby wherever we are in the next twenty minutes, I don’t think Ross has come for a friendly chat,’ Tony tells her, shaking Peter awake gently on the couch.

‘Here?’ Peter asks blearily.

‘Yeah, kid. Come on, we’ve gotta go make nice with the grunts,’ Tony tells him.

Peter stretches, tests his webbing with a couple of little shots and then rises to his feet. Tony glances out the window - Ross will be with them in a second.

‘Keep your earpiece in. I’ll let you know our location,’ Tony tells him stiffly.

Barnes nods, but doesn’t say anything. Tony ushers Peter down the ramp and right before he steps onto the ramp, Barnes clears his throat.

‘Stay safe,’ he tells Tony.

Tony smiles wryly from behind the mask. ‘Sure. Got to make sure you get your minute.’

Before Barnes can say anything else, Tony turns, doesn’t look back and begins his descent down the ramp. He flips up the face plate and throws his arms wide open like a ringmaster, shouting out to the approaching figure, ‘Ross! 7 out of 10 on the welcoming party, I expected more fireworks.’

Tony feels a gust of wind behind him as the ramp rises back into the jet. The hair on the back of his neck prickles in the suit, as though he can still feel Barnes’ watery gaze on him, then the jet crunches away on the tarmac.

Ross hollers, ‘Stark!’

Peter looks over at Tony nervously, shifting from one foot to the next. Tony flashes him a quick wink and says just loudly enough for him to hear, ‘Remember what we talked about. You’ll be fine, let me do all the talking.’

Peter visibly relaxes, nodding. Tony turns to face Ross, the veneer falling into place just as solidly and protectively as his Iron Man suit. Ross reaches them with a face like thunder.

‘You’re an hour late. Where the hell is the rest of your team?’ Ross demands.

Without missing a beat, Tony responds, ‘Colonel Rhodes is on his way and, well, the rest are US fugitives.’

Tony catches sight of the quinjet flying off with Barnes in it, melting into the sky as F.R.I.D.A.Y. activates the camouflage shield. The tension in his chest dissipates.

Ross scowls. ‘You’ll have to do. Bring bug man, you’re going in now.’

It takes them fifteen minutes to reach the outskirts of the attack on the main strip and already, Tony can see the devastation for miles throughout the city. The monsters, gigantic multiple-headed beasts, scuttle over the streets and face of buildings like crabs with zig-zagged metal claws. Several buildings have already been levelled as the troops pass in broken formations, firing with guns helplessly in an attempt to bring them down one after the next.

It reminds Tony eerily of New York City all those years ago, on the Avengers very first mission. However instead of having a team of superheroes around him, it’s just him and Peter - a teenager with next to no experience. It’s going to be a struggle to wipe them out and to be honest, he almost wants to put the kid back on a plane and send him right back to Queens.

A gigantic blast of cerulean light catches his eye and he sees a tank firing a white hot laser at one of the monsters, tearing through its protective armour and slicing off a limb. He looks at Ross in surprise - Tony’s never seen anything like it from any of the weapons dealers he knows trades with the military. It does however remind him of the Chitauri.

‘You reverse engineered alien tech?’ he asks Ross.

Ross smiles wryly, it’s a terrifying look on him. ‘You didn’t think we’d just sit around waiting for  you to get your act together, did you?’

A second, third and fourth Chitauri gun aim at the monster, finally felling it. It’s a weird moment for Tony, watching the military handle a situation that would have boggled their minds a few years ago. There was a time when he and the Avengers were one of the few things capable of tackling a situation like this, but the world has moved on and learned in their absence. This must be what it feels like to be made redundant, Tony thinks.

His stomach churns as one of the guns continues to fire at the dead monster, its limbs shuddering. He imagines what it could do to a human and thinks of Ultron, of Sokovia, a mother who ambushed him in a hallway and Charles Spencer.

‘What do you need us to do, then?’ Tony asks.

‘Honestly, I thought there’d be more of you,’ Ross says, ‘but you’ll have to do. We have the main hostile activity to the east of the strip covered, but there’s a few stragglers loose in a district to the west near our medical outpost. You need to keep them away from the med team while they evacuate to a safer location.’

Tony nods. ‘And take out as many as we can?’

‘If you can,’ Ross says begrudgingly. ‘But your main priority is to keep them away from the outpost. Sending the coordinates to you now.’

As Ross punches them into his phone, F.R.I.D.A.Y. confirms the coordinates and Tony pulls down his face plate to view them. She then quietly adds that she and Barnes are on their way and Tony turns to Spider-Man.

‘We’ve got this,’ Tony tells Ross, but Peter nods ever so slightly - fully aware that Tony is actually talking to him.

Ross snorts. ‘You better. Time to earn your keep, Stark.’

The mission goes as smoothly as it can go. Barnes arrives, hugging the rooftops as closely as he can while Tony zips around with Peter, tearing down alien after alien. More than once, Tony notices one of Barnes’ stray bullets whipping past Peter’s head to take out something right beside the oblivious kid. If it hadn’t been for Barnes, Peter probably would have been dead three times over even with Tony looking out for him.

It reminds him of being in New York, back when the Avengers first began. Back then, it was just a handful of people in extraordinary circumstances - doing what they could to keep the city safe. It’s easy for a moment to believe that it was that simple all over again, despite the new cast of characters. And although Tony spends half his time worrying about Peter or resisting the urge to orchestrate Barnes’ untimely death, it’s a relief to have a haphazard team behind him; even if he’s the one unexpectedly calling the shots.

‘The med team have evacuated to a safe zone,’ Barnes tells him, spying the monster from his spot atop one of the skyscrapers. ‘There’s another alien on the next block. Ross and his men are dealing with it.’

‘How’s it going?’ Tony asks.

‘It’s going,’ Barnes tells him. ‘Could be in trouble.’

Tony yanks his arm out of a chunk of alien and waves his arm around in disgust, trying to shake off the fluid. He turns to Peter and jerks his head upwards, telling him, ‘Go hang out with Barnes.’

‘Aw what, are you gonna go beat the last one without me?’

‘The less time you spend with Ross, the better, kid. F.R.I.D.A.Y., we’re ready for the jet when you are,’ he tells her, firing up his repulsors. He catches a glimpse of Barnes as he pencil turns past, gunning it towards Ross.

Ross and his men come into view and it’s not pretty. The alien has levelled a building, toppled tanks and has the army pinned down behind scraps of debris and overturned vehicles as it spits out white sparks of electricity.

Tony switches frequency and jumps onto Ross’ line, saying, ‘Need some saving, Princess Peach?’

Down on the ground, Tony can see Ross crouched behind what once used to be a police car with a gigantic gun in hand. Ross flicks his eyes upwards in annoyance and even from way up in the sky, Tony can make out his annoyance.

‘Get out of here, Stark. We’re handling this, go keep an eye on the med team,’ Ross tells him.

‘This is the last hostile, we’ve already done our homework. Plus, you guys really look like you could use a little help,’ Tony says.

‘We have this,’ Ross grits out.

As the monster rears back and begins to charge Ross and his cronies, Tony revs up the power in his chest cannon and lets it rip - tearing a hole straight the the monster right before it reaches them. Chunks of matter splatter the area and Ross groans as he’s smacked square on the shoulder with something that looks like congealed hair.

Knowing Ross would never in a million years say thank you to a man like Tony, the billionaire skips straight to it. Tony tells him, ‘You’re welcome.’

The men around Ross began to stand up cautiously and a couple of them wave at Tony, throwing him thumbs ups. Tony touches down beside Ross and flips his face plate up, ready for the earful.

‘You’re dismissed, Stark,’ Ross tells him.

Tony blinks in surprise. No shouting, no ugly snaps and no name-calling. He can hardly believe it.

‘No debrief?’ Tony asks.

‘Debrief tomorrow,’ Ross says. ‘Just go.’

Okay, now Tony is properly convinced he’s talking to a Ross-clone. Instead of poking and and prodding him to see if the man is actually who he says he is, Tony just nods and zips off in the suit.

F.R.I.D.A.Y. steers the armour in the direction of the quinjet. She’s landed it in a school yard and he spots Peter sitting on a swing set in his full uniform, as Barnes sits on the lip of a banana yellow slide a slight distance from him.

Tony initiates the roll up sequence for the Iron Man suit and it dissolves back into his wrist braces, as well as a little red helmet pin on his cashmere sweater. Feeling the full weight of the day hit him, Tony makes his way to the spare swing beside Peter and sits down heavily. The chains rattle.

‘Did it go okay with the general?’ Peter asks him.

‘It was okay,’ Tony tells him, still not entirely believing it. ‘For once.’

‘I saved his life, you know. He and his men were about to get crushed by a car, but I webbed it away from him,’ Peter tells Tony.

‘I didn’t see that,’ Tony says.

‘Nah, but Bucky did,’ Peter says. ‘I wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t pointed them out to me, to be honest.’

Barnes shifts, pretending he can’t hear Peter from his spot on the slide. Tony swings himself idly, handcrafted Italian leather loafers tracing circles in the grass. The three of them bask silently in their shared exhaustion, soaking in the autumn sunshine as an untouchable moment of serenity washes over all of them.

It reminds Tony of sitting in a shawarma joint surrounded by friends. After months of lonely missions, he finally feels like part of a unit again.

‘Do you think the Winter Soldier will give us a push if I ask him?’ Peter whispers to Tony with a grin.

Barnes forgets to pretend he’s not listening and deadpans, ‘Wouldn’t do a very good job, I only have one arm.’

Peter puts his foot in his mouth again, backtracking and apologising and entirely missing the little curve pulling at the corner of Barnes’ mouth. Tony can’t help it, a laugh escapes him.

They fly to New York soon after and Peter talks for two thirds of the flight, still running on pure adrenaline after the battle. Tony has to keep reminding him to drink water - they learned a little while back that all that webbing dehydrates him. After his second litre of water, the exhaustion suddenly hits the teen and he’s knocked out in seconds; throwing Tony and Barnes into the awkward position of being alone with one another.

Tony takes the empty glass out of Peter's hand and puts it on the table. Then, he looks up at Barnes coolly - unsurprised to find the man staring at him intently.

‘He trusts you a lot,’ Barnes offers, breaking the silence.

Tony runs a hand through his unruly hair. ‘He shouldn’t.’

‘He has a lot of potential,’ hecontinues. ‘He’s messy, but he has good instincts.’

‘Yeah, I know he needs training. But everybody who headed up the Avengers’ training facility is either dead or unable to set foot in the United States,’ Tony tells him. Not snappily, like he might have done a few weeks ago, but just in resignation.

The absence of Steve Rogers stretches between them like an ocean. Barnes doesn’t say anything, simply because there isn’t anything else he can say without crushing this fragile truce between them. Tony rises to his feet.

‘Alright then. A promise is a promise,’ Tony tells him. ‘You kept Spider-Man alive, you get your minute.’

‘Now?’ Barnes asks.

‘No time like the present,’ Tony says, striding towards the opposite end of the jet.

The furthest possible space Tony can find from Peter is a small suite, dominated by a massive king bed. It’s impossibly awkward. There’s nothing for it though, so Tony sits on the bed and looks up at Barnes questioningly. They stare off in silence, waiting for the other to begin.

‘Well?’ Tony asks.

He would never have been able to guess the words that came out of Barnes’ mouth next.

‘I want you to meet my lawyer,’ Barnes tells him.

Tony is so taken aback, he actually guffaws. ‘You suing me, Barnes? Pretty sure I have more cause to take you to court than you do.’

‘I want to sign the Accords. I want to hand myself in, but I want it to be to you.’

All Tony can do is stare at him. He’s always wanted Barnes to be brought to justice, but now the solution is glaring right at him he’s just...confused.

Tony asks, ‘What’s the catch? Are you setting me up?’

A muscle in Barnes’ jaw jumps. ‘I’m not.’

‘Why me? Why not Ross or one of the other jerkwads in the government?’ Tony asks him.

Barnes looks so tired. ‘You know why.’

‘No, I don’t. It can’t be a surprise that I hate you with every fiber of my being. In case you've forgotten again, you killed my family,’ Tony says.

‘That’s why it needs to be the New Avengers and it has to be you,’ Barnes tells him. ‘You’re the only one on the right side of the law who fully knows what I’m capable of, brainwashed and not. I’m not getting any better, Stark. I need to be somewhere they’ll either fix me or put me down altogether. And I don’t trust the military not to weaponise me.’

Tony can feel his heart rate rising, his stomach twisting. The panic attack is coming. He doesn’t even know if he’ll be able to speak.

‘I can’t just...run around with Steve, pretending the last sixty years of my life didn’t happen,’ Barnes tells him.

‘Does he know about this?’ Tony asks.

‘No. He’d do everything he could to stop me,’ he tells him.

And because even now, Tony knows the hero lost in time so well, he says, ‘This will break his heart, you know?’

‘This isn’t about him.’

We’ll find him together, Tony remembers wildly. The way him and Steve bowed together like pond reeds over a StarkPad in a dimly lit kitchen, the ghost on the screen haunting them both.

Come and say goodbye to your father, he remembers. The round perfect pearls like a smile around his mother’s neck.

Tony presses the heels of his hands to his eyes. ‘All this time - you showing up on my missions, you never changing your phone number. Were you just waiting for me to take you in?’

Barnes manages a wry smile. ‘You’re bad at taking hints.’

‘Cute. Keep up the attitude and I might actually give you what you want,’ Tony says with no real heat behind it.

‘Boss? Sorry to interrupt, but we’ll be landing in New York in the next fifteen minutes.’

Tony sighs. ‘Looks like your minute’s up.’

‘You haven’t given me an answer,’ Barnes tells him.

‘I didn’t promise you an answer, Barnes,’ Tony says, snidely. ‘I just promised that I would listen.’

Barnes stares him down, then eventually looks away in defeat. He moves to leave the room, looking smaller than Tony has ever been able to remember him.

‘If I don’t agree to this,’ Tony begins, ‘what happens then?’

‘I find another way to keep myself from hurting anybody again,’ Barnes says.

There’s a worrying finality to his tone, as though he’s rehearsed for this exact moment. It isn’t hard for Tony to read between the lines on this one and even though he can’t be in Barnes’ presence without his parents hovering at his elbow, he still can’t bear the thought of it.

Tony caves. ‘Give me the name of your lawyer and the address. I’ll think about it.’

Bucky pulls out a wallet from his back pocket and produces a clean, crisp business card printed on off-white stationery. Tony takes it from him and reads the name.

Floored, Tony points at the card. ‘How the hell did you get the money for this?’

‘Sergeant Barnes is one of my pro-bono cases. We take giving back to the community very seriously here at Hogarth, Chao and Benewitz,’ Foggy Nelson tells Tony over his gigantic glass desk.

Foggy, one of the world’s leading lawyers specialising in Inhuman cases, flits about his office. He makes Tony coffee from a machine that looks more expensive than the suit he’s in. For a man at the top of his game, he’s surprisingly down to earth and normal. Tony supposes that’s to be expected from a solicitor who used to serve Hell’s Kitchen’s most needy for nothing more than a pan of brownies or groceries. After years of dealing with supers and egomaniacs, Foggy is refreshingly straightforward and well-adjusted.

Tony instantly hates him.

‘Sergeant Barnes was referred to me by a close friend,’ Foggy says, placing a mug before Tony. He puts a glass of water in front of Barnes, who nods in thanks.

‘And this close friend would be…?’ Tony ventures.

Foggy smiles. ‘I’m afraid I’m going to be keeping that name to myself, Mr. Stark. I’m sure you understand.’

‘Are the two of you going to tell me anything, then? I’ve cancelled a very boring board meeting to be here,’ Tony says, leaning back in his leather chair.

‘Of course, I know you’re a busy man. Well, as my client has already informed you, he’s interested in handing himself over to the Avengers for judgment – my apologies, the New Avengers,’ Foggy corrects himself. ‘He would also be willing to sign a version of the Accords, which I have made suggested amendments to to reflect my client’s particular situation.’

‘Amendments? I’m pretty sure you know about the hoops I had to jump through just to get my own Accords agreement approved by the UN,’ Tony scoffs.

‘Yes, the firm heard about that. And we also heard rumours that you were able to tailor a very specific Accords deal with the United Nations for Spider-Man, so I’m sure there’s room for negotiation on Mr Barnes’ behalf,’ Foggy says with a mouth full of bright, shiny teeth.

Barnes hasn’t said anything the whole time they’ve been here, beyond a quiet ‘thank you for coming’ to Tony while Foggy was off finding the relevant files. However even Foggy’s overly polite aggression seems to be getting to him as the tension fills the room.

‘Let’s cut to the chase, Nelson. I’m not a patient man. What do you and the Winter Soldier really want?’ Tony asks.

Foggy’s eyes flicker to Barnes’ overcast gaze. Barnes nods slightly.

‘Although Sergeant Barnes’ actions took place while he was brainwashed by Hydra, he is willing to accept full responsibility for the crimes he has been accused of - both here and on foreign soil,’ Foggy says, pushing forwards a clear blue folder. ‘They’ve been listed and detailed in a file here.’

Tony picks it up and is floored by the weight of it. He opens it and begins scanning the page of contents, then immediately regrets it as his eyes catch on some text.

SECTION I. ASSASSINATIONS COMMITTED BY SERGEANT JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES WHILE UNDER THE INFLUENCE OF HYDRA

1. Relating to political figures and members of the monarchy
2. Relating to US military personnel
3. Relating to international security personnel
4. Relating to terrorist plots
5. Relating to civilians

Tony snaps it shut, tuning back into Foggy’s voice. The lawyer hasn’t stopped talking and he continues, ‘Sergeant Barnes would be willing to hand himself over to the New Avengers and the United Nations, sign the accords and additionally testify under oath and share information relating to any persons of interest, criminal organisations and Hydra with the relevant authorities.’

Tony turns to Barnes, growing annoyed. ‘You still haven’t told me what you want in return.’

‘In exchange for all that,’ Foggy finally gets to it, ‘My client would like the New Avengers and, by proxy the United Nations, to oversee Sergeant Barnes’ rehabilitation, as well as any other appropriate punishments. Following a clean bill of health and deprogramming, he would also be willing to serve the New Avengers for the next six decades.'

‘Sixty years?’ Tony asks in surprise. He doesn’t think any of them will even be around then.

‘For every year I was under Hydra,’ Barnes states emotionlessly.

Christ. This is a lot to take in all at once, Tony thinks.

Foggy meets Barnes' eyes meaningfully and Tony gets the impression that this isn't the first time they've had this conversation. Whatever he sees there seems to satisfy him as Foggy says, ‘My client is willing to submit himself totally to whatever punishment is deemed fit.’

‘You said you weren’t getting any better,’ Tony tells Barnes. ‘What makes you think that the New Avengers can fix you?’

Before Foggy can interrupt, Barnes says, ‘I don’t know if you can fix me, but I know that Steve and the others couldn’t. At the very least, I think you’ll be able to contain me if nobody else can.’

‘Mr Barnes,’ Foggy says warningly.

‘I’ve been to rehab – a lot – but I don’t know the first thing about setting up a treatment programme. You’re taking a big gamble here,’ Tony tells him, ignoring Foggy.

Tiredly, Barnes says, ‘I’m not. This is my only option.’

‘The only option he’s willing to explore,’ Foggy mutters under his breath, accepting that the situation is now well and truly out of his hands.

‘You literally murdered my parents. You and Steve left me for dead in Siberia after smashing a hole in my chest. This isn’t going to end well for you,’ Tony warns him.

Foggy doesn’t react, which either means he’s got a very good poker face or Barnes has told him everything. Tony gets the feeling it’s the latter. It unsettles him because it means Barnes is being totally honest and holding nothing back, that he’s serious about all of this.

Barnes’ eyes are as blue as swimming pools. ‘I know.’

He doesn’t expand and Tony doesn’t know what else to say either. Barnes has just put an immense amount of pressure on Tony to do the right thing and he wants to destroy him for placing him in this position.

On some level, Tony knows things aren’t as simple as he wants them to be. Ever since Siberia, he’s worked so hard to write Barnes into a two dimensional narrative: one where he’s an out and out evil villain, a cold-blooded murderer and the sole reason why Steve and the others strayed from the Avengers. He knows the reality is more complicated than that, but hasn't been able to face that yet.

But here Barnes is – not a villain or hero, but something else entirely – forcing everything into the light.

‘I need time to think about this,’ Tony says out loud, trying not to think of piano music and the sound of his mother’s voice. Her name and his father’s are in Barnes’ file, he’s sure of it. He wonders, would they have gone under military personnel or civilians?

‘Of course, Mr Stark,’ Foggy says, ‘My door is always open. If your lawyers would like to get in contact, I believe you have my card.’

Tony nods stiffly, rising to his feet and buttoning up his blazer.

‘Before you go however, there’s just one more thing I’d like to leave you with,’ Foggy says.

‘Oh, by all means, lay on the big speech,’ Tony tells him sarcastically, his patience wearing thin.

‘Like the rest of the world, I’ve been watching your story unfold and your journey has been inspirational to follow,’ Foggy says. ‘However at one point, you were once a bad man. It would be downright hypocritical of you and a major disappointment to the Accords to deny my client the same opportunity to change.’’

Unbridled rage comes flooding to the surface and Tony has to work very hard to keep from shaking. He’s on the verge of totally losing it right there in a suddenly claustrophobic office. After a few moments of charged silence, Foggy begins to shrink into himself; realising that he’s played Tony Stark all wrong. Tony can’t even look at Barnes to gauge his reaction, his world has narrowed to a burning sun of fury.

‘We’re done here,’ Tony tells them, finally.

Behind him, he can hear Foggy mumbling in surprise as the door shuts. Tony counts each breath till he reaches the lift, then he stabs the button and loses count all over again.

Footsteps follow behind him and Tony doesn’t turn, knowing instinctively whose they are.

‘I’m sorry. I had no idea he was going to ambush you like that,’ Barnes tells him.

‘Well, he did,’ Tony tells him shortly.

‘I’ve told him I don’t need his services anymore. I’m prepared to do this the way I wanted to from the beginning, without any of the paperwork and to deal with you and the UN myself,’ Barnes tells him.

The anger subsides slightly, only to be topped up with exasperation. Tony rubs at his throbbing temples, telling him, ‘No. Foggy Nelson’s the best you’re going to get, even if he's an idiot. You can’t afford to lose him, not with a case like yours. If you go back to him now and tell him you didn’t mean it, he’ll take your case on again – I’m sure he’s dealt with moodier clients back when he was in Hell’s Kitchen.’

It’s the first time Tony’s seen this much emotion in the man and Barnes says hotly, ‘But the way he just talked to you-’

‘I didn’t care for it. The only thing I hate more than somebody who tries to manipulate me is somebody who tries to manipulate me badly,’ Tony says.

Barnes doubles down, ‘He shouldn’t have done that.’

Tony can’t believe he’s here, giving his parents’ murderer legal advice. He doesn’t know how his life has come to this, but it has.

‘In any case, even you deserve legal representation and due process,’ Tony tells him. ‘You’re an American, after all.’

A brittle laugh punches its way out of Barnes’ mouth. ‘I haven’t been American for the past sixty years.’

‘Well, whatever you are. You deserve the right to a fair trial,’ Tony tells him.

‘You’re going to talk to the UN about this then?’ Barnes says.

‘Of course I’m going to talk to the UN,’ Tony says sharply. ‘My personal feelings aside, you’re literally the most wanted man in the world and you’re offering yourself up on a silver platter. This is bigger than me and it’s what you want, isn’t it?’

‘I...’ Barnes begins, but doesn't continue.

‘Well? Enlighten me, you've already come this far,’ Tony responds.

The lift dings as it arrives at their floor. It opens, but Tony ignores it.

Barnes’ voice breaks. ‘I want to change the past, but I can’t. All I can do is give everyone in that folder a chance for justice.’

Piano keys, his father’s cufflinks, a car split as though by thunder and a neck clasped with pearls-

‘I need to go,’ Tony manages through the cacophony in his head.

The doors on the lift begin to shut. Tony shoves a hand in between them to keep them open and turns his back to Barnes, unable to handle anything else. The moment the elevator slides shut, Tony grips onto a railing for support and sags against the wall. The world tips like a kaleidoscope.

He waits until the car ride home to have his panic attack. From the moment he steps out of the building, Happy knows that something is wrong with him. It doesn’t take much: there’s an empty look on his face, his face is sheet white and his hands are shaking. Happy blasts the air-conditioning in the car, cracks open a bottle of water for Tony and speeds home as fast as he can.

As Tony dissolves into a full on incomprehensible attack, Happy pulls over on a discreet corner and climbs into the backseat with him until the moment passes. He takes Tony’s hands and murmurs to him quietly, the only anchor in a world that feels too big and too small all at once.

‘I can’t do this, Happy,’ he blurts, the words like pennies on his tongue.

‘I’m here for you, Mr Stark,’ Happy tells him quietly.

‘I can’t breathe-’

‘In and out, Mr Stark,’ Happy gently reminds him. ‘In and out.’

They sit there for half an hour after his episode subsides, leaving nothing behind but exhaustion, a devastating silence and Tony’s grip on Happy’s hands.  

The next day, Tony writes an email. He loops in Foggy Nelson with the secretary general of the United Nations, a high-ranking Accords committee member and the head of the UN’s Inhuman Rights council.

He writes, ‘Bucky Barnes is willing to hand himself over to the New Avengers and sign the accords. Looping in his lawyer here for next steps to set up a meeting.’

He then sends a second email privately to Foggy.

‘Here’s that opportunity you wanted, asshole.’

There are meetings, and then there are subcommittee meetings, and then there are meetings to set up other meetings and Tony finds themselves dragged into most of them. Sometimes Bucky is there, sometimes he isn’t. When he is, he sits in silence for the most part as Foggy talks for him. Every now and again, he catches Tony’s eye and Tony lets him.

The newly appointed Wakandan ambassador to the United Nations takes a very strong interest in Bucky’s case. Tony has only ever met Princess Shuri in passing, usually from opposite sides of a ballroom, but she’s the only ray of light in these dire meetings. She’s a spitfire and isn’t afraid to let anybody else in the room know it.

‘He was a prisoner of war for sixty years!’ she snarls at one point. ‘Since he fell from those train tracks in World War 2 and was captured by Hydra, he was held against his will and forced to commit unspeakable acts. Every year that Bucky was Hydra’s captive was another year that America failed one of their greatest war heroes. He deserved better than that.’

Tony glances at Bucky and raises his eyebrows at her familiar use of his nickname. If that piece of Wakandan tech he saw on him during the alien invasion in Tulsa wasn’t enough, Princess Shuri pretty much just confirmed that Bucky has been in contact with the Wakandans. Nobody else in the room comments on her slip and she eventually slides back into using the stilted ‘Sergeant Barnes’ like everybody else does.

It doesn’t get any better after Shuri’s impassioned speech. Foggy presents evidence about how Bucky was experimented on and later brainwashed. He details the serum the man was injected with, refers to Hydra handlers and activation words and Bucky spends the whole time gripping the arm of his chair. Every now and again, he’s asked a question and answers in stilted yeses and nos.

Princess Shuri looks visibly upset by the proceedings and actually cries at one point, when Bucky describes how Hydra burned resurging memories out of him after meeting Steve Rogers again. How the electrodes would burn through hair, through flesh as the electricity raced through him and his scalp wept with blood. Bucky stares straight ahead, seeing through everyone in the room, and Tony can see the man slowly shutting down before him with every new piece of evidence.

It’s when Foggy begins handing out images of an electric chair that Tony sees the moment they lose Bucky Barnes. Something disappears from behind the man’s eyes, like a star winking out and throwing light years of space into darkness.

‘We’re taking a break,’ Tony interrupts suddenly.

‘But Mr Stark, Mr Nelson is nearly at the end of his presentation,’ a committee member says.

‘And he can finish it when we get back. We’re taking a break,’ Tony grills out, catching Foggy’s gaze meaningfully.

Foggy’s brow furrows in confusion, then he glances at Bucky and realises what Tony’s hinting at. Speedily, he backs Tony and says, ‘I think a break would be best while I discuss something with my client.’

‘I too have no issue with this break Mr Stark speaks of,’ Shuri adds hastily.

‘Fine then. We’ve already interrupted the meeting, what’s another ten minutes,’ the UN general secretary says with a sigh.

As everyone gets up to go and stretch their legs, Tony sees Foggy bend over to quietly check if Bucky is okay. The super soldier doesn’t respond. Foggy then tosses a look Shuri’s way and the princess approaches quickly, murmuring to Bucky under her breath. After a long time, he finally sees Bucky nod – a tiny imperceptible tilt of the head.

Tony can’t watch anymore, he gets up and leaves the room to make himself a coffee. When he comes back, Barnes is gone and so is Princess Shuri. Foggy explains that the proceeds had taken a toll on him and he was taking a break in another conference room. Foggy continues the presentation without him, detailing electric chair specs and red books and the way Bucky would be hosed down like a beast between missions.

After another gruelling meeting that takes hours, Tony overhears Foggy and Bucky arguing in the hallway.

‘The problem is you don’t have any character witnesses that can vouch for what you were like before the brainwashing, other than Steve Rogers,’ Foggy tells him.

Bucky states, ‘I’m not dragging Steve into this.’

‘I know, but you should really consider it. Everybody in that room knows that Steve Rogers is a good man. Even if he’s a criminal on a technicality right now, his words will hold weight,’ Foggy says.

‘This is non-negotiable ,’ Bucky grinds out.

Tony thinks of the black plastic phone in his lab, piled underneath pieces of scrap and suit rejects. Later that night when he returns home, he pulls it out, flips it open and stares at the green call button. Then he shuts it again and picks up his real phone.

The next day, Foggy arrives late to a meeting with a stack of ancient well-worn diaries – each carefully sealed in a plastic bag. Bucky straightens up in surprise as he sees them, recognising them immediately.

‘I’d like to submit these as evidence,’ Foggy manages to get out, having run all the way up several flights of stairs.

‘Relating to what, Mr Nelson?’ the UN general secretary asks in exasperation.

‘We have no living character witnesses - other than Steve Rogers - who can attest to what Sergeant Barnes was like before becoming Hydra’s captive. But several of the members of the Howling Commandos kept diaries of their time during the war and I’ve scanned and highlighted passages relating to encounters with Sergeant Barnes,’ he said, handing out a stack of stapled papers.

One committee member asks, ‘How did these come into your possession Mr Nelson and how do we know these are authentic?’

‘They were sent to me by the Smithsonian and I have their certificate of authenticity in this folder here. The diaries belong to Brigadier James Montgomery Falsworth, Captain Samuel ‘Happy Sam’ Sawyer and Captain Steve Rogers,’ he says, pulling out another folder full of stamped documents.

The last name passes like a bolt of lightning through the room.

‘Well, the committee will need some time to review the evidence but I’m prepared to accept it as proof of character on Sergeant Barnes’ behalf,’ the secretary general says. ‘Though I do commend you on your creativity, Mr Nelson.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ Foggy says.

The meeting goes well and with the diaries, progress leaps forwards. Tony’s lawyer tells him quietly that he thinks everything will be wrapped up after the next session. It’s a weight off his chest and Tony’s quite frankly looking forward to never having to wear a suit or step into the United Nations building ever again. He’s been in there literally every day for the past couple of weeks.

When Tony gets home to Avengers Tower, he throws his tie haphazardly on the table and his blazer on the arm of the couch as he collapses onto it. He stares at the ceiling, totally exhausted and burned out.

F.R.I.D.A.Y. hums to life around him, fading in lights gently and automatically flicking on the coffee machine for him in preparation. She’s been doing that a lot lately, welcoming him home now that there’s nobody else left in the tower to do it.

‘Thank you, F.R.I.D.A.Y.,’ he tells her, really meaning it.

‘No problem, boss,’ she responds.

With a sigh, Tony forces himself to get up and walks over to the coffee machine. He makes himself a brew as black as tar and returns to the couch, sitting cross legged and sipping from his cup in silence.

‘Would you like me to put something on for you? The new series of The Good Place has just launched on Netflix,’ she informs him.

‘That’s okay, thank you.’

‘Would you like me to call Colonel James Rhodes? It’s been a few days since you last talked,’ she suggests.

‘He’s busy with work stuff I’m sure, let’s not bother him,’ Tony says.

F.R.I.D.A.Y. says, ‘Happy Hogan would also like me to inform you that earlier in the day, he bought takeaway for you and left in the fridge.’

‘He literally just drove me back, why didn’t he just tell me in the car?’ Tony says.

‘I believe he thought you may be embarrassed by it, boss.’

Tony goes over to the fridge and pulls it open, spotting a cheap tupperware full of cheesy pasta. He mutters a small praise, pulling it out and sticking it in the microwave.

‘I'm a proud man, but I'm never too proud for Carbone. Tell Happy I don’t deserve him,’ he says.

She pauses, sending off the message. Then she responds, ‘Happy would like you to remember that in his next salary appraisal.’

The microwave dings after a couple of minutes and Tony yanks it out, burning his fingers slightly in the process. He waits for it to cool down, taking a gigantic glug of coffee.

The doorbell goes. F.R.I.D.A.Y. throws up a small holoscreen, showing video footage of the person at the door.

‘Would you like me to let him in, boss?’ she asks.

Tony’s instantly struck by a bout of deja vu. Bucky Barnes stands there with his black cap on, looking awkwardly away from the camera. Rather than the blind rage that had surfaced last time, Tony watches the man shuffle from side to side and feels...he doesn’t know how he feels. Sad, maybe. He doesn’t want to kill the man on the spot anymore and well, it’s an improvement.

‘Let him in and show him to the lounge,’ Tony relents.

Bucky’s head cracks to the side with surprise as the front door beeps and F.R.I.D.A.Y. allows him access to the tower. He disappears offscreen and Tony hears the whirr of the lift as it sends the former assassin up to him. Tony turns in his seat to face the doors and Bucky steps awkwardly onto the landing, then into the kitchen. He lingers by the doorway, looking at Tony like he’s expecting the man to throw him out again.

‘Stop hovering over there, you’re making me anxious,’ Tony tells him.

After a moment, Bucky approaches the marble kitchen counter and sits at the stool opposite him. When the man’s aquamarine gaze drops to Tony’s pasta, Tony spends a second taking him in.

Bucky’s face no longer has the drawn, gaunt cast to it and for the first time, Tony can recognise the grinning man from his dad’s old army photographs. His chestnut hair is a little longer and curlier now. His jawline is model sharp and cleanly shaven, probably on Foggy’s recommendation to make a better impression on the UN. He doesn't look a day over 25.

There’s still proof the meetings have been taking their toll though, there’s no hiding those purple shadows under his eyes. He stinks of cigarette smoke.

‘You’re eating dinner,’ Bucky starts apologetically.

‘Yep. And it’s Carbone, so you’re not getting any of this,’ Tony says.

‘I’ve already eaten.’

‘Well, that’s that then.’

They lapse into silence.

Then Barnes says, ‘Those diaries. I’ve been to the Smithsonian a few times, they’re part of another exhibit called the Howard Stark private collection.’

‘Didn’t you know? Dear old dad was one of your biggest fans,’ Tony tells him, shovelling a forkful of pasta into his mouth.

‘Did you give Foggy the diaries?’ Bucky asks.

Tony shrugs. ‘I got a call from the Smithsonian and they said somebody had been led to believe we owned the diaries. They didn’t say who it was, so when they asked if we could loan them out I just said yes - they’re just sitting there collecting dust anyway.’

‘They changed everything today,’ Bucky tells him.

‘ Foggy changed everything today. I had no idea what was in them,’ Tony says noncommittally. ‘I still hate the guy, but he’s a legal wizard. If I could actually stand him, I’d hire him.’

‘Thank you for saying yes,’ Bucky says.

Tony waves his fork in dismissal, not really knowing how to deal with this. He spoons another mouthful of pasta into his mouth.

‘My guy’s saying this’ll be over in the next meeting. It sounds like it’ll be good news for you,’ Tony says. ‘You might even be moving in here.’

‘And that’s alright with you?’ Bucky asks.

‘Doesn’t matter if it’s alright or not, the New Avengers report to the UN. Whatever the UN says goes,’ Tony says.

Bucky picks up Tony’s discarded tie on the counter, undoing the Windsor knot with clever fingers. He carefully rolls it into a neat spiral and places it before Tony like a peace offering.

‘Yes, it’s alright. You’re going to be on the team eventually, might as well get used to it,’ Tony tells him finally.

‘That’s only if the rehabilitation works,’ Bucky says.

‘It’ll work,’ Tony states. ‘Wanting to get better is half the battle and you do, don’t you?’

‘I honestly didn’t think I’d get to this point. I thought you’d say no and I’d have…’

I’d have killed myself, Tony fills in the blanks.

‘Yeah, I know what you thought,’ he tells him.

Bucky stares at the tie sitting between them, focusing on the curl mixed with shades of blue and red.

‘My father used to talk about you and Steve all the time when I was a kid, you know,’ Tony says suddenly.

Bucky’s eyes flick up in surprise.

‘He adored the two of you, that’s why he hung onto your stuff for so long. He would always tell this story about how you saved his life once, when he went out for a piss without a gun in German territory. We used to have this huge room in our old house where he kept everything, but after they passed away I had it all moved into a wing in the Smithsonian,’ Tony explains.

‘I saw it in person. He had my old boots,’ Bucky tells him, sounding bemused at the thought.

‘I know, I tried them on once,’ Tony says.

The corner of Bucky’s mouth curls upwards.

‘But you know my mother, Maria, was my dad’s complete opposite. She was a really forgiving woman,’ he tells him. ‘My father used to cheat on her all the time. All the time. And yet every time he apologised and came crawling back to her, she took him back. I used to get mad at her about it, then I ended up having to say sorry to her more often.’

‘I heard you used to get into some trouble,’ Bucky says.

‘Tip of the iceberg, Barnes.’

Tony shoves his pasta aside, having completely lost his appetite. He wraps his hands around his now cold cup of coffee, leaning back in his chair.

Tony continues, ‘But what I’m trying to say is that I think my father would have fought for you and my mother would have forgiven you, if they were here today.’

Bucky doesn’t say anything. He just stares at Tony, his eyes misty.

‘All of this – me helping you with the UN and giving Foggy the diaries. This isn’t about you. This is about them. You understand that, don’t you?’ Tony asks.

Bucky nods.

Tony says, ‘So tomorrow when the UN gives you your second chance, don’t thank me. You get on your knees and you cry, and you thank my parents.’

The next and final meeting comes. It passes without incident.

It rolls out the way Tony expected it to: with a mandatory rehabilitation programme for Bucky and the stipulation that he has to sign the Sokovia Accords. Like Tony and the other New Avengers, he’ll have to accept that he can only use his Inhuman abilities if the UN or a representative like Ross authorises it in special circumstances.

Given that Bucky has worked in some way with literally every criminal organisation in the world, he won’t have to go into a prison facility: he’ll be able to exchange information for several years of house arrest. The UN waives Barnes’ responsibility in the endless list of crimes he’s confessed to (746 assassinations, participation in 112 terrorist conspiracies, numerous counts of grievous bodily harm) and officially declares him a former prisoner of war, in exchange for weekly meetings in which he shares everything he knows. Foggy looks over the moon about it, but Bucky remains stone-faced as it’s announced.

His house arrest will be conducted in the Avengers tower starting in a couple of days, once the paperwork is finalised.

Tony and Bucky are made to go to a big public press conference, where they film Bucky signing the Accords and he gives a statement to the press. It’s short, ruthlessly scripted and to the point. Tony stands with his back to the big step and repeat board as Bucky signs his life away to the UN, then takes the podium directly in front of him.

‘I would like to thank the United Nations and my lawyer, Foggy Nelson, for their hard work and support. I do not take this opportunity to serve not just the American people, but the world, lightly,’ Bucky says.

Foggy flashes a big grin at Tony. Still an asshole, Tony decides.

‘I would also like to thank the New Avengers and the Starks for their faith in me and my rehabilitation moving forwards. It will be a long road to recovery, but I will do everything in my power to repay the grace that has been shown to me,’ Bucky finished.

In all the articles that drop literally within the hour, outlets report on Bucky’s statement and ‘the Starks’ is swapped out for [Tony Stark] – a mistake attributed to his nervousness or a slip of the tongue. Tony knows better though.

Later that night while Tony is working in the lab on a new Iron Man suit, he hears something begin to chirp wildly. He can’t locate the source of the noise and it begins to drive him insane. He finally realises with a jolt it’s coming from underneath a pile of scrap where he keeps Steve’s mobile.

He grabs at it just as it goes dead, flips it open and presses it to his ear wildly. It’s silent on the other end.

Then: ‘Tony?’

And oh, Tony’s played out this moment in his head endlessly and mapped out every possibility he could think of. But in each of them, he never dreamed that Steve would be the one to reach out first.

‘Rogers,’ Tony responds. ‘It’s been a while.’

‘Yeah.’

Steve’s voice is exactly the same, a mellow baritone. Quieter than usual, but that’s no surprise. Sitting here with the phone pressed delicately to his ear, Tony can almost imagine they’re back out in the field as he walks the team through a mission.

‘I saw the press conference,’ Steve tells him.

And then Tony realises just what all of this is about.

‘I’m sure you did, it was everywhere,’ Tony says in a measured tone.

‘I don’t know what you’re planning, Tony,’ Steve begins, his voice growing heated, ‘but you’ve got to leave Bucky out of it. I don’t know what you did to make him sign the Accords, but if this is part of some twisted plot to take revenge-’

‘He came to me,’ Tony says.

‘There’s no way he would have. Not without saying something first.’

‘Well, clearly you don’t know him as well as you thought you did. But hey, at least he didn't leave you for dead in Siberia,’ Tony says, because he’s not above being petty right now.

‘Don’t make this about you-’

‘If you didn’t want to make it about me, Steve,’ Tony asks him, ‘why did you call me instead of Bucky?’

Steve doesn’t respond. He just hangs up.

Chapter Text

Bucky’s life has been a chain of torturous stops and restarts since he fell from that train back in the war. After he signs the Accords though, things move very quickly.

Bucky is entered into an Inhuman database, his fingerprints are taken and a machine spits out an identity card he has to keep on him at all times. He goes in for his first interrogation to tell General Ross everything he knows about Hydra’s splinter cells. Princess Shuri is officially appointed by the United Nations to oversee his rehabilitation. A date is set for his move in to the Avengers tower and he’s scanned over by Tony’s AI, who memorises every finite physical detail about him and prepares to track his movements at all times. Foggy throws a small celebration at his office (just Foggy, Shuri and Bucky) and he drinks champagne for the first time in decades. It’s just as underwhelming as he remembers.

And Tony? Well, Tony drops off the map a bit.

After seeing the man nearly every day for two weeks – albeit across a table full of the most powerful peacemakers in the world – Bucky finds himself missing his presence. All throughout the proceedings with the UN, he had found himself looking to Tony for strength at his lowest points. It was a reminder that even if he had been reaching his limit, Tony was in the depths of his own personal hell by simply being there. Over the long, long meetings, Bucky has since memorised the slant of Tony’s strong Italian nose, the quick movements of his dark eyes and the curve and curl of his mouth.

Bucky doesn’t see Tony for another two days, not until his move in date into the Avengers tower. Everything he owns fits into a backpack, his weapons case and a tote bag he was pressured into buying by a supermarket cashier. It’s a miracle he manages to carry it all with one arm. He waits downstairs for his ride to pick him up, lighting up a cigarette.

Ten minutes later, Shuri arrives in a slinky black Audi at his tenement block in Hell’s Kitchen. She takes the tote from him – he knows better to fight her on the small stuff by now – and snatches the cigarette out of his hand. She stomps it into the pavement and points at him accusingly, saying, ‘I did not slave away with Sam on your treatment plan for you to throw it all away on these silly sticks.’

Bucky sighs in resignation, casting a mournful look down at its dying embers. Then he follows Shuri into the car waiting patiently for them on the side of the road, clambering into the leather backseat with his weapons case. Foggy, the person driving them over to the Avengers tower, greets him with a smile as Shuri arranges the tote full of Bucky’s socks and shirts on her lap.

Foggy adjusts his rearview mirror and catches Bucky’s eye. ‘Ready for your next chapter then?’

‘No, but let’s do it anyway,’ Bucky says.

‘What’s in the box?’ Foggy asks curiously as the car lurches into movement.

‘I don’t know if you want to know, Foggy,’ Bucky tells him.

Shuri answers for him, ‘His sniper rifle.’

‘And some underwear,’ Bucky adds.

‘Right,’ Foggy responds, paling. ‘Forget I asked then.’

‘The Avengers tower is nice,’ Shuri tells him. ‘The view is adequate and more importantly, the beds are fantastic.’

‘When did you get a chance to try out the beds?’ Bucky asks her.

‘I moved in two days ago. I asked Stark if I could, it makes sense for me to be close to you if I’m overseeing your treatment after all,’ she responds.

Bucky asks, ‘Did you ask Tony or did you tell him?’

‘What does it matter? I got what I wanted and what I wanted was a fantastic bed. And a personal lab,’ she says airily.

Bucky can feel his nerves start to fray. ‘Did he seem okay about me moving in?’

‘Even if he isn’t, he doesn’t get a say in the matter,’ Foggy responds.

That isn’t the answer Bucky is looking for, but it seems like it’s the only one he’s going to get. Foggy and Shuri natter back and forth about what a billionaire’s home looks like (‘he has a hideous Warhol in one of the bedrooms’) and Bucky lets their energy wash over him. The exhaustion has already set into his bones, he’s going to need theirs to carry him.

‘Bucky, we’re here,’ Shuri tells him fifteen minutes later.

He steps out of the car with his things, peering up at the tower. Bucky follows behind as Shuri strides to the front door, pulling out her own key card to gain access into the building. It’s weird, he thinks, to be standing out here for the third time in his life – only this time he’ll actually be moving in.

‘Welcome home, Princess Shuri of Wakanda,’ Tony’s Irish A.I. greets her and the front door slides open, ghostly quiet.

‘Well, that’s not terrifying,’ Foggy quips.

‘I will choose not to take offense, Mr Nelson,’ the A.I. responds.

Foggy jumps, ‘What the hell?’

‘Stop being rude to F.R.I.D.A.Y., Foggy. Please ignore my uncouth friend, he’s never met an A.I. before,’ Shuri apologises as they step into the lift.

‘Thank you, your highness, but as I’ve said before there’s no harm done,’ F.R.I.D.A.Y. says.

F.R.I.D.A.Y. had at first thrown Bucky for a loop too, but he can’t resist an easy dig at Foggy. Bucky mutters, ‘Honestly, Foggy.’

‘Hey, how was I supposed to know it was sentient? Aren’t A.I. technically illegal anyways?’ Foggy whispers back fiercely.

‘Foggy!’ Shuri snaps.

‘Sorry, sorry,’ he apologises quickly, looking up at the corners of the lift as though F.R.I.D.A.Y. will climb through the ceiling and knife him.

The doors whisper open as they reach the main communal area and Bucky is struck with a sense of deja vu as he steps into the sleek room. As with the first time he walked in, he’s still struck by how cold the lounge feels – all dark wood, glass and black metal topped off with a stiff white sectional he’s quite frankly nervous to sit on. The adjoining kitchen isn’t any better with its gigantic marble island and stainless steel fridge. There’s something about the space that doesn’t feel quite lived in.

Tony is sitting in the same spot in the kitchen that he had been the first time Bucky had visited. There’s a small projection of colour and light before him (the daily headlines from CNN’s homepage, he realises) and Tony passes his fingers through it, dissolving it like powder into water. He stands up and Foggy nearly trips over himself to shake the man’s hand, while Shuri instead flops onto the couch to leave Bucky standing by the doorway.

‘What did I say about hovering, Barnes?’ Tony says mildly.

It startles Bucky into motion and he meets the man’s eyes finally from across the room. He can’t quite read their depths, but he thinks he can detect a sliver of amusement in them. Tongue-tied not for the first time, Bucky approaches the breakfast counter. He takes off his bag and puts his sniper case on the table.

‘Ah, ah. No gear on the table, house rules,’ Tony tells him.

‘That been a problem in the past?’ Bucky asks.

‘More than I’d like. Did you know Chitauri blood eats through marble? Had to get this whole baby redone,’ Tony says, patting the counter.

Foggy offers, ‘It looks great.’

‘I know,’ Tony says shortly, without looking at him.

Ever since Foggy messed up big time trying to manipulate Tony, the lawyer has constantly been on edge around him in social situations. Foggy is usually a man who says what he thinks and feels as it wafts into his head, but each word is carefully considered around the billionaire.

‘Coffee, anybody?’ Shuri asks, heading over to the machine behind Tony.

Bucky shakes his head and, without Tony having to say a word, she takes his empty mug and fills it up for him. It startles a ‘thank you’ out of Tony. She makes two extra cups for herself and Foggy while she’s at it.

‘So, on with the boring household stuff. This is yours,’ Tony tells Bucky, sliding an onyx key card identical to Shuri’s across the table. ‘It’ll give you access to various parts of the building, but according to the agreement with the UN you won’t be able to leave unless supervised by myself or Princess Shuri in exceptional circumstances.’

‘Right,’ Bucky says.

‘Anybody can freely access your floor in Avengers Tower. If you’re sleeping or you’re just not in the mood for visitors, then you can restrict access to it so that only the person with a key card can get in. That said, I need to be able to get into your floor at all times in case something happens, so I’ll be able to enter even if you put up the lock,’ Tony tells him. ‘I’ll always let you know first before I come in though, unless it’s an emergency.’

‘You don’t want water, Bucky?' Shuri asks Bucky, interrupting.

‘Nah, I’m alright,’ he tells her.

‘Juice? I think I saw orange juice,’ she presses him.

‘I’m okay.’

‘A soft drink?’

‘It’s a bit early for that,’ Foggy pitches in.

She says, ‘I can make some tea?’

Realising she isn’t going to stop until he lets her fix him something, Bucky eventually nods. It’s one of Shuri’s nervous tics, when she’s anxious her hands always have to be busy doing something. He doesn’t care for tea or coffee as the serum burns the caffeine right out of his system, but she probably needs this.

Foggy’s phone bleeps and he flinches, patting through all his pockets to try and find the offending item. He pulls out his battered iPhone (something that Bucky notices makes Tony’s eyes narrow) and turns off an alarm, looking apologetically at everyone. Foggy says, ‘I’m so sorry, I’ve got another meeting I have to get to. Will you be alright if I…?’

‘Go, I’ll be fine. Thanks for everything,’ Bucky tells him.

Shuri comes over and places a piping hot mug of tea in front of him. Foggy puts his phone away, glances nervously at Tony and then hesitantly puts a hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

‘Good luck, yeah? I’ll check back in next week and you know you can message me if anything comes up,’ Foggy tells him.

‘I know,’ Bucky responds.

‘I’ll walk you out, Mr Nelson. There were some things I wanted to talk to you about,’ Shuri says, walking with purpose to the lift and leaving Foggy to trail along in her wake.

‘Goodbye, Mr Stark,’ Foggy says awkwardly.

‘Yes, yes, goodbye,’ Tony responds, if only because he has to.

Bucky shrugs imperceptibly as Foggy throws a nervous backwards glance at him, then he and Shuri disappear into the lift as the doors shut behind them. Once they’re gone, it throws the floor into silence and Bucky is suddenly very aware of how the two of them are now the only people in the entire tower.

‘I wanted to talk to you about your floor,’ Tony begins and for the first time, he looks uncomfortable.

‘Is there a problem?’ Bucky asks.

‘No, not exactly. But you have options. I was thinking you could either take over Steve’s old one or you could move into Bruce’s. We had precautions put into place for Bruce’s floor, if he ever needed to be – uh – contained when he hulked out,’ Tony explains.

‘I’d like Bruce’s floor,’ Bucky says immediately.

‘You sure? It’s a bit zen-y at the moment, but you’ll have budget to make changes if you want to make it your own,’ Tony offers.

‘You don’t have to do that,’ Bucky says.

Tony shrugs. ‘All the other Avengers made changes too, it’s not a problem.’

The other Avengers, Bucky repeats in his head, mulling over the words and feeling the weight of their absence.

‘Well, I guess I can show you your floor so you can dump your stuff and get settled in. It’s the ninth floor, so the one under mine,’ Tony fills him in.

Bucky grabs his bags and follows him into the lift, where they cling to opposite walls and try not to look at one another. Then, the doors open again and Bucky is thrown into an open-plan studio full of daylight, spilling over with plants. There’s also a balcony complete with a table and chairs that he can make out through the floor to ceiling glass. Where Tony’s communal lounge was cold, dark and hard, this floor is calming and well-loved – from what he can remember, he thinks his family home was the same way.

‘I don’t know how good you are with plants. I’ve been looking after them since Bruce left, but I can take them off your hands if that’s a problem,’ Tony tells him.

‘This is perfect,’ Bucky says and means it.

‘Great. Well, the way it used to work with Bruce was that F.R.I.D.A.Y. monitored his heart rate and other bodily indicators at all time. If she thought he could be a threat to himself and the rest of the tower, she’d alert everyone, shut his floor down and seal off the doors and windows until the danger had passed,’ Tony explains.

‘That sounds like it’ll work with me,’ Bucky tells him. ‘I can speak to F.R.I.D.A.Y. and Shuri privately about updating it so that she’s able to recognise my triggers.’

Bucky drops his bags on the floor and puts his weapons case down carefully on the deep blue couch. His eyes rove over the space: the burgundy Persian rug, the emerald pops of lush foliage, the blue velvet couch and the plush cream bed on the other side of the room. After sleeping on rickety cots or in cryopods for the last sixty years, he feels for the very first time like he’s arrived home.

‘Do you want to see Steve’s floor?’ Tony says suddenly.

Bucky glances over at the man, surprised at the suggestion. But then the moment the words are out of Tony’s mouth, Bucky is filled with something he can only describe as homesickness.

‘I do, if that’s okay,’ Bucky tells him.

Tony turns around before he can catch his expression and nods. Bucky follows him into the lift and they ride down to the third floor together in silence. When the doors part and Steve’s floor is revealed, Bucky is struck with such a sense of longing that it overwhelms him.

For somebody who’s served with the military all his life, Steve’s room is a drill sergeant’s nightmare. It lives and breathes the man, strewn with art supplies, half-finished books and colours. And all over the walls, there’s not a single blank space that isn’t filled with art – hardly any of it Steve’s. The man was always self-conscious about displaying his own work but god, he'd always loved other people’s work. There’s one small corner though that’s filled from top to bottom with Steve’s sketches, hastily pinned to the wall and punctuated by an easel with an unfinished painting of what looks like a fractured skyscraper. Bucky immediately walks over to it.

‘Did he do these all himself?’ Bucky asks, already knowing the answer.

There’s portraits of the other Avengers: the Hulk mid-roar with veins bulging out of his neck, Scarlet Witch smiling as she idly juggles sparks between her fingertips, Hawkeye quietly restringing a bow. Bucky reaches out and touches one of Tony, all kitted out in the Iron Man suit as he slices overhead through the sky like lightning.

‘Yeah,’ Tony tells him. ‘He was weird about showing them to anyone though.’

Bucky hasn’t talked to Steve in weeks, not since he moved out to New York. He knows on some level that if anybody could talk him out of this, it would be his best friend - which was the exact reason why he's stopped talking to him. But not having the man by his side has been difficult, especially through the last two weeks with the UN, and Bucky misses him like a lost lung. It almost hurts to be on his floor, but Bucky drinks it in.

‘He was going to go into ads, do all the art direction. Then he finally got drafted,’ Bucky remembers, tracing the lines of Steve’s work.

‘Yeah, we learned about it at school,’ Tony says.

It’s strange how the simplest things that have taken Bucky decades to remember are common knowledge now to the rest of America, ingrained into primary school lesson plans. He’s so wrapped up in Steve’s floor that when he casts a glance back at Tony, he’s surprised to see that the man is still standing by the lift door like he’s ready to scatter at any moment.

‘He called me, you know. He seemed to think I was making you do this,’ Tony tells him.

Bucky’s heart sinks. He can already tell from Tony’s demeanour that the call didn’t go well.

‘I’m sorry. He can be…’

‘Yeah. Anyway,’ Tony says, charging through the awkwardness. ‘I wanted to give you this.’

He rifles around in his pocket and holds out a black flip phone, one Bucky thinks was popular back in the late 90s. Bucky walks over and takes it from him cautiously, confused that a tech genius like Tony Stark has one when he could have upgraded to something else ages ago.

‘You’ll get your own StarkPhone later to contact me, Shuri and whoever else you need to, but this is a burner phone with Steve’s number on it. He gave it to me so I could call him in case of any emergencies, but I think it’s better off in your hands,’ Tony says.

Bucky responds hesitantly, ‘I haven’t talked to him in a while.’

Tony shrugs. ‘That makes two of us. Well, until that mess the other night at least. If there’s anything you don’t want on Bruce’s floor or any changes you want to make, there should be a big box somewhere you can fill up and somebody can put it in storage.’

‘Do you want me to help clear out Steve’s too?’ Bucky asks.

Something painful flits across Tony’s face, before it settles into a muted expression. He says eventually, ‘Yeah, why not. It's not like he's coming back anyways.’

------

It takes Bucky less than a couple of hours to clear out what he doesn’t want to keep on Bruce’s floor - according to Tony, the man essentially lived out of a bag and took his worldly possessions when he left. Steve’s on the other hand takes days . Bucky wraps each piece of artwork, meticulously framed and drilled into the wall by Steve, in bubble wrap and carefully slides Steve’s own sketches into folders. It takes longer than he’d like with just one arm.

He hangs onto a vintage World War 2 map of the Allied territories and an abstract painting of what seems to be seafoam. He never claimed to have Steve’s eye for artwork, but the painting brings him peace which is enough for Bucky really. He takes way more of Steve’s work: the commandos huddled around a campfire, a skyline of new New York filled with the man’s careful wonder. He also inexplicably takes the one he saw earlier of the Iron Man suit, looking right out of something from a futuristic film. He can't explain why.

In the back of Steve’s room tucked underneath his hefty oak bed, Bucky finds something that properly turns his stomach. It’s a relatively big square box and he opens it curiously, knowing Steve won’t mind if he peeks inside.

But in it lies the battered Captain America shield, the one he recognises from Siberia when they faced off against Tony Stark. From Siberia. Siberia. S i b e r i a —

He comes to suddenly, still kneeling in exactly the same position with the shield gripped in his white hand. The room is dark. The last time Bucky was conscious and could remember anything, it had been full of daylight — when he checks the clock later, he’ll realise there was an entire hour and twenty minutes that just went completely unaccounted for.

Bucky puts the shield back in the box, but can’t bear to slide it back under Steve’s bed. Instead, he takes it to his floor and hides it under his own.

He seeks out Shuri in the lounge afterwards and tells her quietly, “I’m losing time again.”

She reaches out and touches his forehead gently, asking, “How long were you out?”

Her fingers are calming as they brush against his skin. His eyes flutter shut. “Over an hour. Not as bad as before, but still bad.”

“Did something set it off?” she asks.

“I think so. I found Steve’s old shield and it took me back to...what happened, before we came to you,” Bucky says, still finding it difficult to vocalise.

“Once we get access to Stark’s memory tech, you know we’re going to have to look at that,” she tells him.

With a heart full of dread, Bucky nods. Afterwards, he returns to his floor exhausted and sleeps for so long that he feels more tired when he wakes.

He leaves the rest of Steve’s possessions in the kitchen, folded away into cardboard boxes and labelled in thick black marker ‘STEVE - FOR STORAGE’. They disappear overnight and he and Tony never discuss what happened to them. Even if Tony seems to despise Steve, Bucky trusts that he’s a good enough man not to throw out all of Steve’s things.

On the third day, F.R.I.D.A.Y. asks Bucky to come down to the kitchen. When he enters, Shuri and Tony are sitting on the same side of the marble island with sheaves of paper laid out before them. He doesn’t need to be told they’re about to have a long, difficult talk about his rehabilitation.

Shuri begins, ‘Mr Stark has kindly allowed us to access his machine B.A.R.F., so we’ll be focusing on a number of key memories and especially those you can’t remember very well. After talking with your previous therapist-’ Sam Wilson, Bucky fills in mentally, ‘-we’ve narrowed it down to a handful that we believe will be important to your recovery.’

Bucky nods. ‘Whatever you think is best.’

‘This kills me to say this, but B.A.R.F. isn’t perfect. The programme needs to learn how your brain works and you’ll need to access the same memory multiple times before it’s able to truly access your subconscious, especially when it comes to memories you don’t remember that well,’ Tony tells him.

‘But of course, I’m working with him to improve the technology,’ Shuri says mightily, sipping her tea.

‘One of the first things you’ll have to do is a massive data dump. So you’ll have to be rigged up to the machine so that we can begin uploading the memories to the server, it needs a while to process the information and build its simulations,’ Tony fills them both in.

Bucky can feel his hands start to sweat. ‘Rigged up?’

‘No wires. Just a small headset,’ Shuri says immediately.

Bucky visibly relaxes, pushing away memories of cold electric chairs and wires pressed to the base of his skull.

‘I’m not going to lie, it’s a long and tiring process. I’ve never used B.A.R.F. to the scale you’re going to, to be honest,’ Tony tells him.

‘We’ll break up the data dump over a number of days, so as not to wear you out. And if you ever need a break or to cut a session early, you need to let us know,’ Shuri says.

‘Have you made precautions in case I have a violent episode?’ Bucky asks.

Tony blinks, then responds, ‘Yes, we’ve put-’

‘No, no, don’t tell me. If I can anticipate them even subconsciously, it might be a problem,’ Bucky interrupts.

‘It’s been an issue in the past,’ Shuri fills Tony in. Bucky’s eyes flick downwards, thinking of the new scar on T'Challa's left shoulder.

‘Are you going to be there for the sessions?’ Bucky asks Tony.

‘I’m probably going to have to be, yeah. I’ve shown the princess what I can, but B.A.R.F’s still a living, breathing work in progress,’ Tony responds.

‘There’s a couple of memories I don’t want you in the room for, if possible,’ Bucky tells him.

The assassination of Tony’s parents lies like a continent between them.

Tony doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, then continues shakily, ‘Right. Right. We’ll figure something out.’

‘You’ll also have to meet with a UN-approved psychologist so they can externally assess your improvement. But we have forever till that happens,’ Shuri continues, blowing completely past the awkward moment.

‘That’s fine.’

She reaches across the table, signposting her movements, and covers Bucky’s single clenched fist with her own slender hands. He meets her dark eyes with uncertainty as she tells him without a shred of dishonesty, ‘I’m proud of you for going through with all of this, Bucky.’

Tony averts his eyes politely.

Bucky hesitantly squeezes her hand back. ‘Thank you for seeing me through it.’

-------

Bucky’s first experience with B.A.R.F. doesn’t go well, as expected. Tony leads him and Shuri into his lab and off to a separate sealed off area which he can see through its glass walls. Bucky takes in the details as they pass through the man’s space: the scrap pieces of Iron Man armour from missions past, a discarded and half-finished bow, a small mountain of coffee mugs. There’s a loud, angry chirping from behind him and Shuri pulls him out of the way as two honest-to-god robots carry a small bed cot between them into the sealed off area.

‘Dummy, don’t be rude,’ Tony warns him.

Bucky says immediately, ‘Sorry, I didn’t realise-’

‘Not you,’ Tony says, ‘The robot, obviously.’

Bucky stares after them, watching as they pull the tiny room together between them. He repeats dully, ‘Obviously.’

It’s safe to say that Bucky feels utterly useless as Shuri and Tony volley tech speak back and forth, peering over a holoscreen. The man’s bots wrestle the cot into the glass room and pull together a makeshift structure in record time.

Shuri and Tony enter the glass room and when Bucky stares after them, Shuri waves impatiently for him to follow. He does and Tony sits down on the edge of the cot, fiddling with what looks like a pair of glasses. Tony idly pats the space next to him on the bed and Bucky sits down, glancing over at Shuri for reassurance. The Wakandan princess doesn’t even notice, she’s too busy inspecting the Dummy’s nuts and bolts and saying hello as it chirps indignantly.

‘Okay, so, what’s going to happen is you’re going to put these on like a regular pair of sunglasses. There’s going to be a quick flash, but don’t panic - that’s just the scanner in the glasses doing its job. After a few minutes, the projectors-‘ Tony points at the four white pillars in every corner of the room, ‘-will pop up with an interface and then we can start the upload process. Do you want me to show you how it all works first?’

Bucky hesitates, then nods. Tony hands Bucky the glasses, then pulls out his own pair and slides them on. Tony says out loud, ‘F.R.I.D.A.Y., be a sweetheart and start up B.A.R.F. for me please? And no thumbnails, list display only.’

As Tony described earlier, a small icy blue light scans the retinas of his eyes and the entire room around them is thrown into pure white. A gigantic list of text appears, detailing Tony’s memories. Bucky looks away as swiftly as he can to give him his privacy, but his photographic memory has already done the damage. Pepper proposal. Afghanistan Yinsen. Steve kitchen. Sokovia. Mom and Dad last conversation. Steve and Bucky Siberia. Tony quickly scrolls and selects a memory (‘Iron Man announcement’), then the room transforms into a gigantic round space filled with daylight and reporters lined up two neat little squares. A much younger Tony approaches Bucky and his older counterpart, gliding straight through the middle aisle to take his place at a podium behind them.

With a wry smirk, younger Tony holds up a stack of colourful cue cards. He addresses the press, ‘It’s been a little while since I was in front of you. I figure I’ll stick to the cards this time. There’s been speculation that I was involved in the events-’

‘Is it always this vivid?’ Bucky asks, feeling as though he could reach out and touch the journalist scribbling shorthand into a notebook beside him.

‘Nothing less than HD,’ Tony says. ‘Anything in grainier quality than the real world would ruin the illusion anyway. This is just a standard rerun of the memory, but your self-appointed bodyguard and I have been working on improving the capabilities so you can actually change and affect what happened in your memory. So if I go like so…’

Tony stands up and approaches himself. As he does, Bucky can’t help but draw comparisons: younger Tony is crisp, shiny and pressed into a suit while older Tony has shadows beneath his eyes, flecks of grey in his hair and lives out of expensive tees and denim. There’s an optimism that rolls off of the younger Tony, an almost arrogant confidence that Bucky recognises sometimes in the man he almost knows now. In the negotiations about his handover, Tony had worn the persona like a mask.

Another blue scan of light flickers over Tony’s eyes, then suddenly Tony is reaching out and physically touching the hologram version of himself. He presses the cue cards firmly into his younger self’s hands and orders him, ‘Read from the cards, dumbass.’

There’s a moment where the simulation seems to freeze, then it continues. Real Tony explains, ‘In my original memory and reality, I didn’t stick to my speech. I was supposed to tell everybody Iron Man was my robot bodyguard, but I ended up telling them that I was Iron Man. I gave my assistant at the time a heart attack.’

Younger Tony takes a question from a journalist in the front row, then continues rattling off a boring, scripted speech. The press conference passes with no real excitement before Tony is walked offstage by a man Bucky recognises as Colonel Rhodes, the one who was paralysed last year when they encountered one another. Bucky swallows as he takes in Rhodes’ confident walk, the bend of his knee and gait.

‘We’ve designed it so that you have complete control over your memories, Bucky,’ Shuri explains from her corner of the room. ‘So that you have agency over your actions, which will be a big part of your deprogramming treatment.’

Bucky nods. Tony pulls off the glasses and the room instantly disappears around them, replaced again by glass walls and Tony’s lab.

‘We’re not going to run any simulations this time around. This is going to be the main upload, which will be very boring and very tiring, but all you have to do is lie on that bed and keep your eyes open,’ Shuri says to him.

‘That doesn’t sound too hard,’ Bucky tells her.

‘It’s harder than it looks,’ Tony says, rising to his feet. ‘This cot is way comfier than you realise.’

‘We’re going to stand outside the room with the main equipment and process all the data. If you have problems or you need to take a break, just say,’ Shuri says.

‘I will,’ Bucky tells her.

The two of them leave the glass room to huddle over a set of very intense looking computers and holoscreens situated just outside. Bucky looks doubtfully down at the glasses in his hand, then slides them onto his face and blinks as a warm blue light passes over his iris.

‘Welcome to B.A.R.F., Sergeant Barnes,’ F.R.I.D.A.Y. greets him, throwing up the walls of a cold, white room around him. Bucky lies down.

Tony’s voice comes through one the speakers in the white columns and Bucky swivels to look at the man standing just beyond the glass wall. ‘That’s just the default waiting room. If you focus on a place right now, you can change it to something more personal.’

‘In my mind?’ Bucky ventures.

‘Of course in your mind, Bucky,’ Shuri pipes up. ‘This is memory tech.’

He thinks for a moment. Then the white rooms dissolves. The ceiling above him dissolves into a thatched bamboo roof as the square walls of B.A.R.F. give way to a rounded hut lined with animal hides and skins. Through the speakers, he can hear the quiet rush of rainfall outside and the click of the cicadas. The dark clothing he had been wearing earlier gives way to a red dashiki, embroidered with white string around the collar.

This is a memory, Bucky realises. This was a couple of months ago, an endless rainy afternoon where Steve and the others left to go save some city somewhere (they never told Bucky where they were going on missions) and everybody else he knew in Wakanda was tied up with other business. It was a glorious day where he just lay in his small hut, letting the sound of the rain wash over him, and the world was quiet.

‘Well, if I had my doubts about where you guys were before…’ Tony muttered under his breath, just loud enough for the speakers to catch him.

‘We’re starting now, Bucky,’ Shuri informs him.

There’s a low, soft beep and then the light in Bucky’s glasses changes to a cooler purple. In all honesty beyond the light change, he doesn’t notice anything different and time passes by unhurriedly. After what feels like an hour, he completely forgets that he’s lying on a bed in Tony’s lab and not back home in Wakanda. If he stares really hard, he can just about make out the blurry images of Tony and Shuri through the hologram talking about the results coming in.

Time drifts. He realises he should have asked how long the upload would take. Slowly, everything else melts away and then it’s just him, Wakanda and the cot — complete meditative stillness, the same way it was on that monsoon day.

‘Bucky,’ Shuri’s voice floats into the silence.

‘Mmhm?’ he says, unable to string a sentence together.

‘We’re going to do a quick test,’ Shuri says.

Bucky asks, ‘Is everything okay?’

‘There’s just an error with some of the uploads, but we’re going to figure it out,’ Tony tells him.

Bucky glances over at them and makes out the tension in Shuri’s spine, the frown on Tony’s forehead. He nods and Wakanda slips away around him, replacing by the cold white room that sets him on edge. Then, that begins to bleed through into darkness until Bucky is in what looks like a basement. There’s huge patches of it that blink frantically in and out — first totally realised, next moment just this flat blank white space; like a picture that hasn’t quite finished loading on the internet. It hurts Bucky’s head to look at it. He sits up in the cot, glancing around him.

He can hear the sound of footsteps and water dripping, but it’s distorted like somebody’s blown out all the speakers in Tony’s machine. Bucky rises to his feet and walks forwards, then nearly collides with a person. It’s a man whose face is just one big smush, as though someone had taken a palette knife and smeared all the details together. The man talks to him, his voice distorted and unintelligible. The Hydra armband around his uniform however is realised with crystal precision, as well as the little red book in his hand.

‘Shuri,’ Bucky starts warningly, feeling dread settle into his stomach. Beyond the glass, he can see Tony and Shuri arguing - pointing at the parts of the simulation that are broken, rather than what’s actually going on.

Bucky turns and sees, as he remembers, an Indian woman tied to a chair behind him with her mouth done up in a gag. Unlike the Hydra officer, her face is unmistakable: voluminous dark lashes, chocolate eyes, face marred by where he had split her brow when she had struggled against him. Half of her face is covered in thick, drying blood from the cut. Anna Savlani, a human rights activist that stumbled across a Hydra cell on accident. The wall behind her blinks into existence and out, like someone keeps pasting it in and out of Photoshop.

She had been so easy to kidnap, Bucky remembers unwillingly, and even easier to kill once he had been put under. Civilians always were.

The red book opens. The person whose face he can’t make out starts speaking.

‘Longing,’ the voice begins, the word like nails against a chalkboard. ‘Rusted, furnace, daybreak, seventeen, benign-’

Bucky feels the world fall away from underneath him and the air is vacuumed out of his lungs. He sinks into the floor, into the centre of the universe.

He disappears.

The Asset comes to hours later, sitting on a velvet blue couch with a cup of tea in his hand. He smells the rich notes of rooibos rising from the cup. It settles him slightly, even as his mind tries to pick up and puzzle all the pieces back together.

Anthony Stark, who’s sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table and poring over a holoscreen, looks up at him as the Asset shifts. There’s a second cup of rooibos beside him, proof that another person had just been there.

‘What happened?’ the Asset asks, his tongue feeling too thick for his mouth.

‘Shuri told me to start off with this first. What’s your name?’ Anthony asks him.

The Asset’s brow furrows. His name? It swims before him, just out of reach, and he frowns. It’s right there, he knows it.

‘Bucky,’ he manages eventually, with a great deal of effort. ‘Bucky Barnes.’

‘And where are you right now?’ Anthony asks him.

In a beautiful room, Bucky thinks. The floor is filled with tropical plants and he’s sitting on a blue velvet couch. His bare feet graze the maroon Persian carpet beneath them.

However, the room is surrounded by thick metal walls with no visible way out. It’s some kind of plush maximum security holding cell.

He doesn’t recognise it.

‘In prison?’ Bucky ventures.

‘Try again.’

Bucky focuses on Anthony - no, Tony - his brain slowly fitting things into place like a reverse jenga tower. He drinks in the man’s face, the dark eyes and the slice of his strong jaw and charcoal hair.

‘My floor. In Avengers Tower,’ Bucky finally says. ‘It’s 2018. We’re in America, in New York.’

‘There we go,’ Tony tells him, smiling slightly.

A loud hum fills the room and suddenly, the metal walls begin to lift. They reveal floor to ceiling windows that take Bucky's breath away, as though he's seeing the sunlight that spills through them for the very first time.

‘Just a precaution,’ Tony says, sounding slightly apologetic.

‘What happened?’ Bucky asks again.

‘You had an episode. The activation words in your memory sent you back,’ Tony says honestly, not sugarcoating a thing.

Bucky nods, a sour taste filling his mouth. He stares down at his single hand, clenching and unclenching his fist. ‘Did I hurt anyone?’

‘Nah, we accounted for it. You’re good,’ Tony tells him.

Good isn’t the word Bucky would use, but sure. He can sort of remember bits from B.A.R.F., like the face of Anna Savlani. Hearing the start of the trigger words before they rolled over him. Lashing out at her in the simulation, feeling his hands go through her holographic body. Watching his past self crush her skull in his metal hand like a grape, painting his body in blood.

The stump of his missing left arm aches and he reaches up to it, massaging his shoulder to lessen the pain. God, he needs a cigarette.

The lift doors glide open and Shuri appears, holding a massive blanket. She smiles shakily at the sight of Bucky up and lucid, then muscles her way onto the couch with him and rearranges the blanket over both their legs. Tony pushes her cup of tea over to her side of the table and she takes it gratefully.

‘How are you feeling, Bucky?’ she asks.

‘Better,’ he offers. ‘Tony was just filling me in.’

‘Did you talk about his memories?’ she asks him.

‘I was waiting for you, figured you’d want to be here for that,’ Tony says.

She nods and turns to Bucky, rearranging the blanket in her lap. There’s a tiredness around her eyes, an uncharacteristic detail for the woman who burns at both ends.

She tells him, ‘We’re having problems with the upload. We think that whatever Hydra did to you damaged your memories, so it’s not a matter of you just not remembering your past. We think that they genuinely fried parts of your brain, so that you would never remember them. You saw it in the simulation, parts of it weren’t running correctly and there wasn’t enough data to fully flesh it out.’

A sinking feeling fills Bucky and he resigns himself for the worst. ‘Does that mean that we can’t use the machine then?’

‘No, not exactly. We need to run some more tests, so we need to see if attempting the upload multiple times will change anything. But it’ll be a lot more difficult than we initially thought — for you and for us as well,’ Tony explains.

‘That’s fine. When can we reattempt the upload?’ Bucky asks immediately.

Shuri presses his cup of tea into his hands. ‘Not anytime soon. Drink your tea. You need to rest.’

‘I’m fine, we can do it again now if you want,’ Bucky insists.

She starts, ‘Bucky-’

‘Even if we’d let you, we actually can’t. You broke the machine, we need to repair it,’ Tony tells him.

A flash of recognition runs through Bucky. He remembers the simulation flickering in and out like bad reception on a television as he gripped one of B.A.R.F.’s pillars in his hand and cracked it. He looks down at it now, noticing the scratches on his palm. He fights it, but he can feel the frustration creeping in and grinds his teeth.

Shuri passes a hand over his head, running her fingers through his longer locks. ‘We’re fixing it. We can try again in a couple of days.’

‘Right,’ he says dully. The tea leaves at the bottom of his cup stare up at him, drowned under swathes of murky liquid.

‘We have time, Barnes,’ Tony tells him gently. ‘There’s no rush.’

So much of Bucky’s life has been spent on borrowed time. For decades, the few moments of lucidity he had were hungry snatches before he was put in a cryopod again. Since leaving Hydra, he’s spent the rest of it running and hiding — never without any place to settle down and catch his breath. Tony’s words sink in: there’s finally no need to run as fast as he can.

For the first time that he can remember, Bucky can just...be. It’s a wildly liberating and terrifying thought.

‘Yeah,’ Bucky manages, floored by the enormity of his life. ‘Okay.’

Per his agreement with the UN, the date of Bucky’s very first tribunal-ordered meeting comes. The UN have already briefed Tony on the situation, who relayed the information to him a week ago. A CIA agent called Agent Everett Ross is coming today to speak with Bucky about potential Hydra splinter cells and other unsavoury underworld types. After the failure of Bucky’s first B.A.R.F. session the other day, he isn’t feeling terribly optimistic about what he’ll be able to hand over.

‘Sergeant Barnes,’ F.R.I.D.A.Y. greets him one morning, ‘A Mr. Foggy Nelson is requesting access to your floor. Would you like me to let him up?’

Bucky stares down at the stuffy white dress shirt and suit trousers laid out on the bed before him. Shuri fusses over him, combing his hair down and gesturing wildly at the clothing she’s laid out on the bed.

‘Sure, let him in,’ Bucky tells the A.I..

‘You’re not even dressed yet Bucky, change into your suit,’ Shuri insists.

Bucky tells her, ‘Shuri, I’m not going to change in front of you.’

‘Why not? I don’t care,’ she says, scowling.

‘You’re royalty, for one-’

The lift doors glide open and Foggy steps in, looking entirely dapper in a steel grey suit. He strides in with a big smile and then stops suddenly in his tracks, staring at Bucky.

Foggy points at Bucky, but addresses Shuri, ‘Why isn’t he dressed yet?’

‘He’s refusing to change out of his clothes,’ Shuri tells him, throwing her hands up.

Bucky defends himself, ‘Shuri, I’m just saying, I’m not going to change in front of you-’

‘Then go into the bathroom? Come on man, you can’t meet a CIA agent dressed in your track pants,’ Foggy says, trotting over to the bed where he assesses the outfit laid out on the bed.

Shuri presses the clothes into Bucky’s hands, but Foggy hums - pulling the white shirt out of the pile. He jogs over to Bucky’s closet and replaces it with a blue one.

‘The white shirt was perfectly fine,’ Shuri mutters.

‘Yes, but the blue one brings out his eyes,’ Foggy points out.

‘Foggy, I’m going for an interrogation not a date,’ Bucky says.

‘It’ll help!’ Foggy insists, ‘Believe me.’

‘Mr. Stark would like to come up to your floor, Sergeant Barnes,’ F.R.I.D.A.Y. informs Bucky. ‘Should I let him up?’

‘What the hell does that guy want now? He knows what time your meeting is,’ Foggy grumbles.

‘Tell Tony he can come up,’ Bucky tells the A.I., feeling thoroughly overwhelmed.

The doors whizz up and Tony steps onto the floor, then stops when he sees the three of them crowded round the bed. Tony points at Bucky, but snaps at Foggy, ‘Why isn’t he dressed yet?’

‘I am standing right here,’ Bucky mumbles, but decides to just go into the bathroom rather than entertain anymore abuse. He changes as fast as he can, throwing his tracksuit to the side and buttoning up his shirt awkwardly with one hand.

Bucky eventually makes it out into his room again, where Foggy, Shuri and Tony all assess him. Foggy pulls out Bucky’s one and only tie, a sleek grey thing that Shuri had insisted on buying for him, and gestures for Bucky to come over. They had learned from his appearances at the UN that Bucky couldn’t tie one with a single arm, so Foggy had wound up tying all of his for him.

‘Okay, now, you’re going to be speaking with Agent Everett Ross, he’s from the CIA. He’s not related to General Ross and you definitely don’t want to get the two mixed up. We’ve already been through everything you’re going to say but if he tries to throw a curveball in or you’re not sure what to do, you look at me and I’ll help you out,’ Foggy briefs him.

Shuri informs him, ‘Everett is a very nice, simple man who has a strong sense of justice. As far as spies go, he is one you can mostly trust even if he is slow on the uptake. He helped protect Wakanda a few years ago.’

‘They only started letting the public into Wakanda last year, how the hell did he score an invite?’ Tony asks with a hint of jealousy.

She pauses. Then she says, ‘I perhaps was not supposed to mention that.’

Foggy loops the tie around his own head, tying it deftly into a Windsor knot before loosening it slightly and popping it over Bucky’s neck. He tightens it for Bucky, arranging it neatly under his collar and brushing at his shoulders for good measure.

‘Is he on the way?’ Bucky asks.

Tony nods. ‘He just messaged, he’ll be here in ten so you might want to speed this whole thing up.’

‘Oh, great. Your hair isn’t even combed yet,’ Shuri says, stressing herself out. ‘Should I make tea? I should make tea.’

She goes off and begins brewing rooibos from the box she insisted on bringing up to Bucky’s floor the moment he moved in. Bucky counts to ten in his head, trying to keep his head above water as the world spins around him.

‘I’m going to be with you the whole time. And if it gets too much and you need to stop, you just tell me and we can take a breather,’ Foggy assures him.

Bucky needs a cigarette. ‘What if I don’t give him enough information?’

‘It’s a process, Bucky. They’re going to work with you over a long period of time on this, this is just the first meeting of many, remember? It was one of the terms for your house arrest, the most important thing is that they see you’re cooperating and doing your best,’ Foggy tells him.

‘A few names wouldn’t hurt either, I’m sure,’ Tony observes idly, flopping onto the couch.

Foggy inhales sharply and stares at the ceiling. Bucky can see the man counting silently, trying to keep himself from freaking out at Tony Stark.

‘Agent Everett Ross has arrived, boss. Would you like me to send him up to Sergeant Barnes’ floor?’ F.R.I.D.A.Y. pipes up.

‘You ready?’ Tony asks.

Shuri runs over to give them all a mug of steaming hot tea each, then sits on the armchair beside Tony and crosses her legs painfully formally. She fixes her hair, coughs into her hand and then looks at Bucky expectantly. They all do.

Bucky swallows and says, ‘Yeah. Send him up.’

Everett greets him with a curt nod and then when he sees Princess Shuri, his face breaks out into a smile. He hesitates, obviously not sure how to say hello appropriately, but then sheepishly crosses his arms in an X over his body before letting his hands fall to his side. A gigantic grin crosses her face and she rises to greet him, kissing him on both cheeks.

‘Everett. It is good to see you again,’ she tells him.

Flustered by the kisses, he says, ‘And it’s good to see you again, even if it’s weird seeing you in the United States. These guys looking after you?’

Shuri rounds on the rest of the room and raises an eyebrow. ‘I believe I spend most of my time looking after them.’

Everett approaches them and shakes Tony’s hand, then Foggy’s as he greets the room. Then he sits down beside Bucky on the couch and says, ‘Hi. You must be Sergeant Barnes, right?’

Bucky looks up at Shuri, who nods encouragingly. Feeling slightly more at ease, Bucky says, ‘Missing arm give it away?’

Everett snickers. He puts his briefcase on the coffee table and opens it, saying, ‘They didn’t tell me you had a sense of humour.’

He sets up a couple of files and a tape recorder. Shuri makes him a cup of tea and hands it to him, which Everett takes gratefully. He inhales it deeply and takes a huge slurp before adjusting his tape recorder, then turns to the rest of the room.

‘While it’s very lovely to have met all of you, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask if you can leave me with Sergeant Barnes for a little while. Of course, Mr. Nelson, as his attorney you are welcome to stay if your client wishes,’ Everett says.

Foggy takes one of the adjoining chairs closest to Bucky and puts a hand briefly on his shoulder in a show of support. Shuri insists that Everett come up to her floor to say goodbye once they are done and Tony says, ‘If you need anything, tell F.R.I.D.A.Y. and she’ll sort you out.’

‘And F.R.I.D.A.Y. is the…’ Everett gestures to the ceiling.

Tony flashes him a crooked grin. ‘Exactly.’

He and Shuri slip off into the lift, leaving them alone. Once the doors close, Everett sags in his chair and says, ‘I can’t believe I just met Tony Stark. Does it ever get old, dealing with him?’

‘Oh, it gets old alright,’ Foggy mutters.

‘Everything he’s doing with the New Avengers - the new foundations and the support systems for Inhumans - is incredible. I was wondering how he’d be able to keep it all together when the previous Avengers defected, but he’s built something beautiful,’ Everett says.

He isn’t wrong. Bucky is slowly starting to get a sense for the amount of humanitarian work Tony actually does in the name of the New Avengers, which dwarfs the number of combative missions he’s greenlit to go on. He’s seen Tony slaving away over budgets for scholarships, planning a new arc reactor powered energy grid in Sokovia and calling therapists working with the parents of Inhumans struggling to adjust to their new normal.

‘Anyways. Enough fangirling from me, would you mind if I turned on the tape recorder, Sergeant Barnes?’ Everett asks.

Bucky feels his adrenaline spike through the roof, gearing up for him to make his great escape. He stomps down the urge and instead says, ‘Sure.’

The interrogation starts off with a set of easy questions. Having conducted a number of these in the past, Bucky remains guarded and waits for the other shoe to drop; knowing the tough questions are on their way. Foggy is good at exuding calm in these situations, but even Bucky can sense the line of tension in the man’s neck as the questions grow more intense.

‘Do you have any knowledge of operational offshoots of Hydra?’ Everett asks.

Bucky’s head is starting to hurt. He rubs his temples and says, ‘No, but it wouldn’t surprise me if it was a possibility. We had bases and agents all over the world, the SHIELD contingency was just a small part of it.’

Everett’s expression sharpens like a knife. He asks, ‘How many agents would you say roughly were operational before the big takedown a few years ago?’

‘I don’t know...three hundred, maybe? But Steve and the others made a big dent in that, didn’t they?’ Bucky asks.

‘I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to comment on ongoing investigations, Sergeant Barnes,’ Everett says firmly, but not unkindly.

The seed plants itself in Bucky’s head, germinating in his mind. If Everett is still here asking about Hydra, that means the organisation is still very much a threat.

‘Now, the next pictures I show you are going to be distressing,’ Everett tells him, as though Bucky hasn’t murdered hundreds of people before, ‘so if it’s too much, you can just tell me and we can tap out for a bit. But I would appreciate it if you could try and answer to the best of your ability.’

Foggy glances at Bucky, who just nods. Bucky says, ‘Go on.’

Everett picks up one of the files and withdraws a photograph, placing it before Bucky. Then he places another one, then another one, then another on. It takes a moment for Bucky to realise what they are, then his stomach turns and his mind turns to white noise. He stares at the photographs - at seven different blood-stained chairs.

Everett’s voice sounds as though he’s hearing it through miles of water. ‘Now, Sergeant Barnes. I know this might be difficult, but can you confirm that these are the chairs that were used in your brainwashing?’

Bucky sees the cuffs on the chair’s arms and legs, the intestinal bouquet of electric wires and nodes. He manages, ‘Yes.’

Everett nods, and then begins placing wider shots of each chair’s location on top of each. He then asks, ‘Can you identify any of these locations?’

Bucky focuses, he really does try to. He hones in on one photograph in particular, which features yellow walls and a rubber duck on one of the desks. He feels like his head is about to explode with the exertion, but he finally manages, ‘This one is a Hydra research facility in Sweden. A man named Gunner Nilsson ran it.’

Everett nods.

Not really knowing why, Bucky adds, ‘The duck was his. He used to play with it when they were strapping me in.’

Everett pauses, something like pity fleeting across his features. He asks, ‘Thank you. Can you tell us about anybody else who used to work there, or how the facilities communicated with one another?’

‘Can you give me a few minutes? My head, it isn’t…’ Bucky says, desperately needing a smoke.

Everett immediately changes, the edges smoothing out as he gathers up all the photographs in a heartbeat and flips them over so Bucky doesn’t have to see them anymore. He says, ‘Of course. Take your time.’

‘Do you have a pen and paper? I think it might help if I write things down,’ Bucky says.

Everett immediately goes searching in his briefcase and pulls out a very scruffy looking notepad and a biro. Bucky nods his head in thanks and rises, getting ready to go to the balcony.

‘Can you come with me, Foggy?’ Bucky asks.

Foggy nods and rises immediately, following him out. They leave Ross behind in the lounge and Bucky lights up a cigarette, sinking back into his chair as a sea of names battle for dominance in his head.

‘You holding up okay?’ Foggy asks.

‘For now. My head kills,’ Bucky says, letting out a jet of smoke.

‘You’re doing well, better than I think Everett was expecting. If you can give him a few more names, I think it’ll really help your case,’ Foggy explains.

Bucky taps his ash out into the glass tray on the table. ‘I know a lot of names, but I don’t know if they’re tied to that specific research facility.’

‘Then how about this - we start off with all the names you think are from that place, then we do a separate list of general names? I’m sure he’s not going complain if we give him more than he asked for,’ Foggy says.

Bucky nods, feeling exhausted.

‘After that, we can tell him you need to stop,’ Foggy adds.

Bucky says, ‘Yeah, I think I’m going to have to.’

‘Here, look. Why don’t you tell me the names you remember and I’ll write them all out? That way you can just keep smoking,’ Foggy says.

Gratefully, Bucky slides over the pen and paper to Foggy. He takes a big long drag from his cigarette. Then, he starts on a list of names that will eventually cover both sides of the paper. He finishes three cigarettes in the time it takes him to say all of them and by the end of it, all he wants to do is be left alone to deal with the cacophony in his mind.

‘Okay, let’s go back inside,’ Foggy tells him, rising to his feet.

Bucky takes one last puff and stubs out his cigarette. They go back in and Foggy hands the sheet to Everett, who takes it delicately.

‘Those are all the names I remember for now,’ Bucky says.

Everett’s eyes widen as he rakes in the sheer number of names on the list. He says, ‘There must be at least a hundred names here.’

‘I’m sure you know about most of them and I can’t guarantee all of them are alive, since I was with Hydra for sixty years. But I might be able to add to the list the longer I work with Tony and Shuri on fixing my brain,’ Bucky tells him.

‘Yeah, that would help a lot. In the meantime, we can do a lot with this,’ Everett says.

Bucky inclines his head, unable to say anything further. Foggy exchanges a meaningful look with Everett and says, ‘If it’s alright with you, we’d like to end this here. My client has given you more than you’ve asked for and-’

‘Oh! Oh, of course, I was going to wrap up soon anyways,’ Everett says, immediately packing everything away.

Bucky is so tired, he can’t even keep his head up. He puts his elbow on the armrest and supports his head in his hand, watching Everett close up his briefcase. He gets to his feet sluggishly to say goodbye, the man’s words fading over him, and sinks back into his chair as Foggy presses him back into it gently.

‘Rest, Bucky,’ Foggy tells him, his words like cool water.

Bucky raises his hand and places it on top of Foggy’s, saying, ‘Can you stay? Not feeling great and don’t want to be on m’own.’

‘Do you want me to get Shuri as well?’ Foggy asks.

Bucky nods. He adds, ‘And Tony. Just in case.’

He hears Foggy relay the info to F.R.I.D.A.Y. and hears the lift doors open. Bucky is too tired to even respond to Shuri’s work worn hand smoothing over his forehead, pushing his hair back. She says in a pained voice, ‘Oh, Bucky.’

Bucky overhears Foggy’s voice filling in Tony, ‘-did really well. I think now they know he’s a serious asset to the-’

‘Can I get you anything?’ she asks him.

Bucky shakes his head, but then says, ‘Just stay here.’

‘I wasn’t going to leave you like this anyway,’ she tells him.

The exhaustion leaves him vulnerable to thoughts he tried to ignore throughout the interrogation. He thinks of the endless list of names and the bloodstained chairs, knowing for a fact that means that Hydra are still out there torturing and brainwashing. The knowledge that not only could Bucky be taken in again, but that they could be trying to recreate what they did to him. He’s not too proud to admit that it terrifies him, having the life he's only just started to build ripped away from him again.

Shuri kisses him on the cheek and burrows close to him, wrapping her arms around his midsection. He wishes wildly he had his missing arm, just so he could slide it around her, and it makes his eyes burn.

A rogue tear slips out and he wipes at it, muttering, ‘Sorry.’

‘You have nothing to be sorry for, Bucky,’ she tells him.

He does, though. Foggy returns and pats his knee reassuringly, settling down with a fresh new cup of tea and a strategic piece of kitchen towel in case Bucky needs it. The tears continue leaking out of Bucky and he hides his face in his hand, pretending to be resting on it.

‘Sorry,’ he repeats, feeling utterly dwarfed by his helplessness.

He hears the balcony door slide open and the sound of footsteps. Then, the couch shifts as Tony sits down and there’s a dull thunk on the wood of the coffee table. Bucky looks up and registers the ashtray sitting innocently before him, which Tony must have retrieved from outside.

‘I usually don’t let people smoke in the tower, but just this once,’ Tony tells him. His dark eyes are devoid of the sympathy in Foggy’s, the pain of Shuri’s - his are simply calm with the weight of understanding.

Bucky scrubs at his face and nods gratefully.

Tony eventually puts on a film in the background - a hopeful, gentle film about a dysfunctional family. With Tony’s gaze on him, Shuri’s weight against his shoulder and Foggy’s quiet commentary drifting in and out, he falls asleep.

--

The second time Bucky uses B.A.R.F. is a much needed, if not minor, win. The next upload of memories fills in more of the gaps, Tony runs a lighter test memory from before the war — of Bucky in a jazz bar with a girl in a yellow dress, spinning her round like a tulip as he laughed. Her face is still a total blur, but little Steve - standing awkwardly at the bar with a glass of water in hand as he watches them - is perfectly realised. Younger Bucky, dressed in high waisted trousers and a loose white shirt, throws his arm around Steve after the song ends and the girl with the yellow dress pulls Steve onto the dance floor. He orders a drink and the glass arrives in pixelated black and white, a shortcoming of the upload.

Bucky feels like he’s watching a film he knows nothing about unfold in front of him, but clearly some untapped part of himself remembers. He watches Tony through the transparent memory, through the glass. Tony laughs out loud as younger Bucky comes to Steve’s aid, twirling the reluctant man round the dance floor before dipping him dramatically. Tony and Bucky’s eyes meet through the hologram and Tony’s grin mellows, but doesn’t disappear.

As Bucky watches another version of himself down a drink and throw himself back onto the dance floor, he thinks - hopes - that maybe there’s a chance he could be that happy again.

It takes three more uploads for them to gather as much data as they can, but then they have just about everything they can get. There’s a whole stockpile of memories that they just give up on, these monstrous bites of static and distorted noise that make Bucky’s head hurt, so they focus on what's usable - relegating the rest to the recess of Bucky's mind. Just under half of Bucky’s memories are complete enough for them to work, but less than a quarter are fully realised. Those tend to be the ones from the recent years since escaping from Hydra.

The day that Shuri declares the first stage officially complete, Bucky sits on his balcony for a long time watching the sun roll behind New York. He can hear the sounds of Tony upstairs in his penthouse: the New Avenger has left the windows open and music drifts down towards Bucky. Bucky smokes his last pack of cigarettes and sits there on the balcony, listening to the sounds of life above him until the cherry of the final stick burns out.

Outside of B.A.R.F. sessions, Tony avoids Bucky. Bucky notices almost instantly, but he resigns himself to it. It’s enough for Bucky to be here in the tower, catching guitar riffs from Tony’s penthouse above him and passing one another in polite silence in the kitchen when Shuri’s not around. It still shocks Bucky that Tony’s civil to him at all.

In any case, the man is hardly ever around. Between his business, the increasing number of New Avengers missions which Bucky can’t ride along on anymore, his endless charities and fixing B.A.R.F., it’s not like he has a lick of time to socialise with Bucky anyways.

Right before they’re about to start seriously working on Bucky’s uploaded memories and the deprogram, Shuri is called away to Wakanda on urgent business. The entire next stage is put on hold till she comes back. She mutters something about a threat to the city and Bucky begins packing his things to go with her, arriving on her floor with a bag in hand.

‘What are you doing? You’re not coming with me, Bucky,’ Shuri insists. ‘You genuinely can’t, you would breach your agreement with the UN.’

‘Of course I am,’ he responds. ‘You and Wakanda have done so much for me, the least I can do is help out.’

‘This is something you must learn, Bucky. This is not a one for one. I am helping you because you are my dear friend, not because I expect something in return,’ she tells him.

‘I know.’

She smiles wryly at him. ‘You are a terrible liar. Also if you try to follow me, I will have you thrown out of Wakanda — the last thing Africa needs is another white saviour.’

She laughs as his eyes bug out at the insinuation and reaches back into her room, pulling out a long silver box. She hands it to Bucky.

‘What is this?’ he asks.

‘Another arm,’ she says. ‘I’ve been working on it for the past month, so I will be very offended if you don’t take it.’

The thought makes Bucky ill, makes him think of Tony somewhere in the tower and the cold bite of winter air. Shuri and Bucky have been fighting about replacing his arm for months now, basically ever since he lost it, and he can’t bear to have it replaced yet. He just keeps thinking of how it shattered under Tony’s repulsor beam, splintered into pieces as Steve drove his shield into the man’s chest.

He tells her, ‘I can’t. I’m not ready for it yet.’

‘I know. But if you are going to eventually be fighting as a New Avenger, you are going to need another arm. I just want you to hang onto it and think about it, you can’t do anything with it anyways until I do the install,’ she explains, pulling on a gigantic and decidedly unroyal backpack.

She shoulders her bag. ‘I have to go now. Look after yourself and look after Stark. I worry he is reaching the end of his rope.’

‘The day Tony lets anybody look after him will be a surprising one,’ Bucky comments.

‘You were worse than him before, you know. It took time, but you’re getting better at letting people look after you now,’ she points out.

He thinks back to just a few years go, when he had violently pushed Steve away after the man found him again. He remembers how small and unworthy he had felt, how furious he had been that someone who burned as brightly as Steve would waste his time on him. Mustering up the strength to ask Tony for his help with the Accords is proof he’s come a long way since then.

‘Stay safe,’ he tells her.

‘Unnecessary, but thank you,’ she responds, rising up onto her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek before she goes.

That night, the Tower feels a lot quieter than it has been in weeks. Bucky sits on the balcony smoking, listening for the sound of rock music floating down from Tony’s penthouse, but the man is out. F.R.I.D.A.Y. informs him that Tony is currently off on New Avengers business and will be back shortly when it’s concluded. As the sun begins to fall behind the horizon, it starts to rain and Bucky has to go inside as the storm clouds gather. He heads down to the training facility on the second floor, hits the treadmill and runs, and runs, and runs.

An hour later, F.R.I.D.A.Y. pipes up again. She says urgently, ‘Sergeant Barnes, your presence is needed on boss’s floor.’

‘On Tony’s floor? Did he ask me to go up?’ Bucky asks, confused. He’s never set foot in Tony’s private space and he’s never ever been invited up.

She pauses, then continues, ‘Boss isn’t lucid enough at the moment for that.’

It clicks in Bucky’s head that something is very wrong. He bolts to the lift and F.R.I.D.A.Y. sends him soaring up. The doors open and he is smacked in the face by a cold gust of air, his shoes crunch on glass as he steps inside. He doesn’t even have time to take in the sight of Tony’s sleek living quarters as there’s not much of it to admire at the moment.

Tony seems to have smashed through one of the gigantic windows on his floor and everything is a mess of glass and metal. In the middle of a heap lies Tony in the Iron Man armour, his visor down and totally unresponsive.

‘What happened?’ Bucky demands, dropping to his knees beside Tony and looking for a release on the helmet.

‘He was on a mission in Argentina which went well, but after he flew back he crashed into the penthouse. I believe the fact that sir hasn’t slept in 35 hours contributed to the accident,’ she informs him.

‘35 hours? Jesus,’ Bucky says. ‘Is there a way to take off this helmet? And can you call his doctor?’

‘There is a release switch underneath the chin and I will make the appropriate calls now,’ F.R.I.D.A.Y. informs him.

‘And does he have anybody we can call to let them know he’s not doing well?’ Bucky asks distractedly, finding the catch for the helmet and pulling it off at last. Tony’s head lolls to the side, smeared in blood.

There is a short pause, and then, ‘I believe Miss Potts is in town.’

‘Sure, whatever, call whoever that is,’ Bucky says. ‘Just let me know how you do on that doctor.’

He manages to get Tony to open his eyes and the man stares blearily at him, his eyes fully dilated. He says, ‘Tony. Tony, are you with me?’

Tony stares at him with a totally blank expression. After a couple of seconds, he eventually nods.

‘Can you speak?’ Bucky asks him.

Tony nods, but doesn’t. Then eventually, he manages in a slur, ‘I crashed.’

‘Yeah, you did. A doctor’s coming, they’re going to look at you and make sure you’re okay,’ Bucky tells him.

‘Tell Bruce ‘m fine.’

‘You’re not fine Tony, I’m pretty sure you’ve got a concussion,’ Bucky tells him.

Tony says, ‘Can you stop spinning me? I feel sick.’

They haven’t moved at all and Bucky is getting increasingly concerned. Tony keeps trying to close his eyes but Bucky wakes him up again and again, pulling pieces of the armour away from his body to give the man some room to breathe. Tony talks, totally unaware of what he’s saying.

‘Sorry,’ Tony tells him in a small voice. ‘So sorry.’

‘It’s okay, Tony,’ Bucky tells him.

‘’S not. Just don’t know how to talk to you,’ Tony continues.

‘You’re doing just fine.’

‘I mean talk to you talk to you. You know? It’s hard,’ Tony confesses.

Bucky hesitates. Then he responds, ‘Yeah, I know what you mean.’

Before Tony can say anything else, the lift doors open and an immaculately dressed woman with strawberry hair steps into the penthouse. She takes in the state of the room and then her eyes narrow on Bucky and Tony, going razor thin. Bucky barely has time to cover himself as the woman suddenly throws her Birkin bag at him as hard as she can, screaming at him to get away from Tony.

‘What did you do to him?’ she shouts at him. ‘Was it not enough that you killed his parents?’

Bucky blocks a blow as she throws a book at him, followed by everything else on a set of shelves. He opens his mouth to explain, but then Tony’s face changes and the hero grins dopily as he recognises her. It’s such an easy, innocent smile.

‘Pepper. I crashed,’ he announces. ‘Into my window.’

She stops with her arm in the air, ready to throw a miniature Jeff Koons dog statue at Bucky. Her eyes then begin to glaze over and she puts it back down, walking towards them.

‘Of course you did,’ she says, wiping away angry tears. ‘You big dolt.’

Bucky steps aside as Pepper begins to fuss over Tony, doing all the same checks Bucky just did and running her hands over his face, neck, his chest in worry. The doctor arrives soon afterwards and Bucky lets the two of them do their thing, feeling mildly useless in the background. He eventually manages to find a dustpan and broom with F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s help and begins to clean around the area, trying to make himself useful.

Eventually, it’s determined that Tony’s going to be okay and they lie him down on the couch. Bucky has to half-carry him as Tony’s still a bit wobbly. The smell of his woody aftershave fills his nose, mixed with sweat and copper. The doctor does all his bangs and cuts, stitching shut a deep gash on his chin, and Pepper sits beside Tony on the couch with a wet towel to clean his face up.

After the doctor leaves and the room is thrown into silence, Pepper offers stiffly, ‘Sorry. I just saw you standing over Tony and the room was like that. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions and I shouldn’t have thrown my bag at you.’

‘It’s okay, I know what it looked like. You have a good arm,’ Bucky says, managing to somehow get the shards of glass he’s just swept up into the dustpan with just one hand.

‘I’m glad you were here for Tony. And that you called,’ she continues. ‘He doesn’t like to ask for help.’

Bucky’s starting to realise that. ‘No, I don’t think he does.’

‘He just keeps insisting on doing all these things alone and pushing people away,’ she tells Bucky. ‘But he can’t do it all on his own. He gives so much of himself to others but he leaves so little for himself. It’s one of the reasons we...’

Ah, it clicks. Pepper Potts. CEO of Stark Industries and Tony’s ex-fiance. From the way she carefully mops at Tony’s face to the mere minutes it took her to get to the tower, it’s clear that she still adores the man terribly even if they’re not together. It seems complicated, but it’s not Bucky’s place to press.

There’s a discordant set of chimes as Bucky sweeps the glass as best as he can. After a few minutes, Pepper says, ‘You know, you don’t have to do that. Tony has cleaners come in, we can move him to his room and then call them to clean up.’

Bucky can read between the lines and sees her words as the dismissal they really are. She obviously wants to be left alone with Tony and to be honest, he’s probably in better hands with Pepper than he is with Bucky. It still stings, even if he understands it. He helps her move Tony to his bedroom, a space which looks as beautiful and soulless as a hotel suite. Tony stumbles over to the bed and eventually they manage to prop him up against the headboard.

As Bucky pulls away, Tony grabs feebly at his wrist. Bucky stops and glances down at him.

Tony’s eyes bore into his, finally lucid and focused on him. He mumbles, ‘Thank you, Bucky.’

This is not a one for one, Bucky remembers Shuri’s words.

‘No need for that,’ he tells Tony. ‘Just look after yourself.’

Tony manages a wry laugh. ‘Why start now?’

And that’s something that has to change, Bucky realises. Eventually, he gently removes his arm from Tony’s hold and leaves the room. Before he goes, he throws a final glance back and sees the man’s eyes slide shut as Pepper runs her finger tips over his forehead slowly. This is how they must have been before, Bucky realises. Before whatever happened.

‘Sorry I didn’t call before,’ Tony tells her in a murmur. Bucky can’t help but overhear with his heightened senses. ‘I think you and Rhodey are right. ‘M not okay.’’

The lift doors slide shut. When on his floor, Bucky switches on the television and the news is on: blaring footage of Tony in the suit zooming through a disaster zone and retrieving people from underneath earthquake-struck buildings. As he arcs up into the sky like a solitary kite, Bucky makes a decision.  

He grabs the case Shuri had handed him and opens it. It reveals a disembodied onyx arm, one he knows will fit perfectly into the gaping port in his shoulder.

He takes it out.

When Tony has recovered, Bucky asks F.R.I.D.A.Y. where he is. She tells him Tony is up on his floor and asks her to pass along a message to see if he’s available for a talk.

‘Boss has granted access to his floor,’ she informs him.

‘Thank you,’ he tells her politely.

‘A pleasure, Sergeant Barnes.’

Bucky goes up, clenching and unclenching his fists in what seems like an endless lift ride. When the doors slide open, he’s surprised at the sight before him: a totally spotless and clean penthouse. The window that Tony smashed through the other day has been completely repaired, as though it had never been damaged in the first place.

‘In here,’ Tony calls out from another room.

Bucky follows the sound of his voice but not before a set of pamphlets catch his eye on a side table. The sight is one that confuses him: it’s for a series of psychiatric practices in the Upper East Side, promoting therapy services of all kinds. A neat, precise note written on the back of a business card reads: Dr Glaubermann comes highly recommended. So proud of you for doing this - Pep x

Bucky files the information for later. He follows the sound of Tony’s voice into the other room, a study, where the man is sitting on a couch facing the windows and the rest of Manhattan.

Tony throws a look over his shoulder at him. ‘Everything okay, Barnes?’

‘I just wanted to talk,’ Bucky begins, not sure where to go from here.

‘Yeah, F.R.I.D.A.Y. said.’

Bucky hesitates, then sits down beside Tony. Tony puts aside the StarkPad he’d been fiddling with and fixes his full attention on Bucky, which is a little overwhelming. The man always seems to be running at least six different projects in his head, so being the sole object of his attention is a pretty remarkable moment.

‘How are you feeling?’ Bucky ventures.

Tony leans back in his chair. ‘Like crap. But I'm getting the feeling you didn't come up here for a wellness check.’

‘That was a bad fall, Stark. You scared the shit out of me,’ Bucky tells him.

Tony looks to the side, avoiding contact. Bucky catches sight of the small bandage covering his chin stitches, which will take a week or so to heal up.

‘Yeah, well. You don't need to worry,’ Tony responds.

‘Is there anybody else you can bring out on missions with you?’ Bucky responds.

‘Honestly, it’s fine.’

‘No, it’s not. In the time since you last asked me to help with those aliens in Tulsa, you’ve run 36 missions on your own and it’s clearly taking a toll. People don’t just fall asleep flying for no reason,’ Bucky insists.

‘I didn’t fall asleep,’ Tony mutters.

‘You can call me in in an emergency. Why won’t you bring me in the field with you?’ Bucky asks.

Tony sighs and leans his head on his hand. ‘Look, I didn’t want to say this. But the UN strongly implied I shouldn’t bring you into the field until after we’d made a dent in your deprogramming and they're not wrong. It was irresponsible of me - of us - to let you ride along to begin with. If something had gone wrong in a crowd of civilians, then it would have been over.’

Bucky buries his response. He knows Tony is right.

Tony adds, ‘Anyway. You have your plate full enough with recovery, there’s no need for you to get dragged into all the other New Avengers’ mess yet.’

‘Look,’ Bucky says, ‘my head might be busted, but I know you can't keep going on like this. You need to start bringing someone into the field with you.’

‘God, you sound like Fury,’ Tony mutters. ‘Fine, fine. I’ll talk to the UN about backup. You always been this stubborn?’

Bucky’s mouth curves upwards. ‘The past sixty years, not so much.’

Tony blinks. ‘That was a joke, right? Am I allowed to laugh at that without going to hell?’

‘I've heard they throw better parties,’ Bucky responds. ‘I'll get you in on my guest list.’

Tony does actually laugh at that, a warm sunlight sound. Cautiously, Bucky smiles.

‘Sure. You know, I still don’t quite understand how you got me to agree to all this,’ Tony says lightly, gesturing to the two of them sitting beside one another.

And because Bucky is feeling daring or he’s just a masochist, he asks, ‘Do you regret saying yes?’

‘You really want to know?’ Tony asks him, giving him an out.

Bucky forges ahead. ‘Yeah.’

‘Sometimes,’ Tony tells him. ‘But less nowadays. Do you regret being here?’

‘No,’ Bucky responds immediately. ‘Never.’

I’m lucky to be here at all, Bucky thinks. He would choose this outcome over and over again, over Steve, over hiding in Wakanda, over being on the run for the rest of his life. Here, Bucky has a chance to make amends. Here, he has a chance to get better.

Bucky can feel Tony’s presence like a planet beside him, drawing his eyes and attention towards him like gravity. He takes in the details: the softer edge of his beard where it’s grown out slightly and the steady rise and fall of his chest.

Then Tony ventures, ‘Have you spoken to Steve?’

‘Not yet,’ Bucky admits.

‘You should. Shuri comes back tomorrow and we’re going to start on your treatment program again, it’s going to be tough. You’re going to need him,’ Tony says.

‘It’s...hard with Steve. I don’t think he’d understand. He’d probably try to make me go back,’ Bucky explains.

‘Would you?’

‘No. But it would be hard to say it out loud,’ Bucky says. ‘It’s difficult to keep on letting him down.’

‘Nobody does disappointment better than Steve Rogers, ’ Tony responds lightly.

Despite Bucky’s best efforts, a traitorous little smile pulls at his mouth. Tony grins at him and then they lapse into a comfortable silence, taking in the landscape of New York rolled out like a carpet before them.

‘I don’t want to give him hope,’ Bucky says finally, answering Tony’s question for real.

Tony’s eyes fall upon him like twin spotlights.

Bucky continues, ‘The point of this whole thing isn’t so I can become the man I used to be. It’s so I can bury him. If I admit that to Steve, he’d be devastated.’

Tony doesn’t say anything for a couple of moments. Then he says: ‘Yeah, maybe don’t tell him that.’

‘Yeah.’

Shuri comes back the next morning with a few scuffs and bandages. Her older brother, T’Challa, is broadcast everywhere for a solid 24 hours after he reveals just how glorious Wakanda is, inviting reporters and ambassadors into the country after centuries of closed doors. Tony is a kid in a candy shop as drone footage captures the technological advances of the country. He almost has a little aneurysm when Shuri tells him about the vibranium-powered trains.

‘So they levitate? How do you account for propulsion management and errors on the track?’ Tony demands, leaning over the kitchen counter.

The rest of the conversation is gibberish to Bucky, but he’s just glad to see the two of them together again and nattering on. He smiles fondly at them as they wax lyrical about acceleration, course correction and other things he can barely wrap his head around. Tony goes down to his lab once he’s well and truly sated with knowledge and mutters to himself on his way out.

‘Your coffee,’ Bucky reminds him, holding out his unfinished cup.

‘Right, right. Thank you,’ Tony says, taking it from him absentmindedly and heading to the lift.

Shuri’s eyebrows go right up to her hairline at the action. She waits until Tony is well and truly out of earshot, then she says, ‘You know he has a thing about people handing him things, right? When we’re working together in the lab, I have to place things down on a table between us so he can pick them up.’

Tony never mentioned that to Bucky before, but it makes sense now. Whenever Happy, his driver, drops by with takeaway or Pepper with sheaves of paperwork, they always leave everything on the counter rather than pressing it into his hands.

‘I didn’t know,’ Bucky says, unable to offer any other explanation. ‘He probably was just so excited by Wakanda he didn’t realise.’

She sips her tea. ‘It’s a big deal.’

‘Okay, sure. Side note: can you set up my new arm?’ Bucky asks, changing tack completely.

She stares at him, as though she’s afraid he’s about to dissolve into pixie dust. ‘You’re being serious?’

‘I’m being serious,’ he tells her, feeling a smile coming on.

‘Oh. Oh, Bucky,’ she begins, unable to put her feelings into words. A grin begins to split her face as she grabs onto his hand, pressing it. ‘This is amazing. This is amazing, Bucky.’

‘I know,’ he tells her. Her joy has always been contagious and there’s so much of it. He feels it thrumming under his skin the same way the sun gleams through closed eyelids.

‘When?’ she asks.

‘As soon as possible,’ he tells her.

‘Okay. Okay! Let’s do it. Okay, wait, just let me take a shower first because I smell like plane and 14 hours of travel,’ she says.

He laughs at her. ‘That’s fine, take a shower.’

‘And maybe a nap. But then after that!’ she tells him, rising to her feet and rushing over to the elevator. ‘And get Stark on board too, he needs to sign off on it.’

That sobers him up instantly. Tony was the man who shattered his arm and he has already made it explicitly clear he wasn’t going to build Bucky a new one. But Shuri is gone before he can say anything else and he’s left alone.

He asks F.R.I.D.A.Y. where Tony is and she delivers, revealing that he’s currently on his floor. Without him even checking, she tells her boss that he’s looking for him and encourages him to go up to the penthouse. The doors open and Bucky finds Tony sitting on the floor cross-legged, poring over a set of very official looking papers.

‘Is this a bad time?’ Bucky asks.

‘No, no. You’re saving me if anything,’ Tony tells him. Bucky carefully picks his way through the documents on the ground - energy contracts for an arc reactor power plant in Sokovia, he realises - and eventually makes it to the genius in the eye of the paper storm.

‘So, what’s up, Barnes?’ Tony asks, pulling the lid off a Montblanc pen with his teeth and scribbling something in the margins of a sheet.

‘I wanted to run something by you,’ he begins nervously. ‘And Shuri too.’

Raising an eyebrow, Tony rounds on him and gives him his full attention. It’s a heady feeling, to be the sole object of the man’s focus, and he can feel the heat spreading over the back of his neck and ears.

‘Why am I worried? Should I be worried?’ Tony asks.

‘I don’t know if worried is the right word. But I’m getting a new arm,’ he tells him.

Tony tosses the pen on the floor and sighs. ‘Look, I thought I told you I wasn’t going to-‘

‘Shuri developed one for me. Months ago, even. So you don’t have to do anything,’ Bucky explains.

‘Oh,’ Tony stops in his tracks. ‘Oh. Okay.’

‘We were just wondering if you could sign off on it. We were going to install it today. I know it’s an awkward ask because-‘

‘-because I smashed the old one to pieces?’ Tony fills in.

‘Yeah. That.’

Tony begins gathering up the papers and it reminds Bucky of Shuri when she gets anxious, her brain sprinting through every possible and impossible outcome as her fingers itch for something to do. Bucky kneels down to help him but Tony waves him off, so Bucky sits on his heels instead and watches.

‘You said the arm’s been ready for months. Why didn’t you install it earlier?’ Tony asks, avoiding eye contact.

‘I didn’t have a reason to want a replacement until now.’

‘And that reason is…?’

‘To help the New Avengers,’ Bucky says matter of factly. To help you.

Tony pauses and then puts the stack of papers on the floor beside him. He swallows and the room goes stale with tension as Tony leans back on his heels, staring at his calloused hands.

Tony eventually continues, ‘Shuri’s doing the install?’

‘Yeah, she built it and everything.’

‘Vibranium?’ He asks.

‘I’m assuming so.’

‘Synced to your nervous system and with full motor capabilities?’

‘I don’t honestly know but I’m assuming so.’

‘Secret weapons-‘

‘Tony,’ Bucky begins, a small smile coming on. ‘Do you want to see it?’

Tony grabs his StarkPhone and slides it into his back pocket. He looks up at Bucky, looking as shaky as Bucky feels, and something passes over his face. A wall slides into place, the smallest of smiles, then he walks right over all the sheets of paper. He shrugs and tells Bucky, ‘Well, if you insist.’

They fold into the lift and head to Bucky’s floor, where the arm paints a grim scene - lying on the coffee table like a leftover mug. Tony picks it up gingerly after Bucky nods and handles it carefully, his eyes lighting up like Christmas.

‘STARK,’ somebody barks from the lift. ‘Put my tech down or so help me god I will unleash my patent lawyer.’

‘I was just looking!’ Tony responds immediately.

Shuri storms over and rips the arm out of his hands, waving it at him threateningly. ‘Sure you were. Have you signed off on the arm?’

Bucky realises that Tony never actually said yes or no. He turns to the man and trickles of doubt seep into him, passing its cold fingers over his spine.

‘I need to talk to you before you get started. Away from Barnes,’ he says to her, gesturing his head to Bucky’s balcony.

She rises and for the first time, Bucky sees a degree of nervousness in her. She may be their liaison to the UN but at the end of the day, Bucky’s life has always lain in Tony’s hands. If the man vetoes the arm, then that’s the end of that. He can’t help himself, he stares at Tony through the window and begins to read his lips.

‘You know he’s not stable yet,’ Tony begins, sitting on the edge of the garden table. ‘Do you really think giving him a military grade weapon is really a good idea? ’

Shuri’s back is turned to the glass, Bucky can’t make out her answer. But she does wring her hands nervously behind her, shifting from one leg to the next.

Tony nods thoughtfully and then continues, ‘And the arm has a kill switch? ’

Bucky immediately turns away so that he doesn’t see the rest of the conversation. He doesn’t want any knowledge that the tower needs to protect themselves and he worries that if he understands their failsafes, then if he glitches out he’ll be able to circumvent them.

After a few moments, they return. Shuri is uncharacteristically pale and silent. Eventually, Tony claps his hands together and says, ‘So, count this my formal approval, Barnes. You get a new arm. I’m going to help oversee the process, make sure everything goes okay.’

There’s something about his tone that brooks no room for argument. It feels wrong to have Tony there with him, watching as Shuri restores the arm that he shattered in self-defense, but Bucky doesn’t fight him on it.

‘I’m ready when you are,’ he tells Shuri.

She catches his eyes and manages a wobbly smile, before plopping down on the couch beside him. ‘And to think, you were so against a new arm just a week ago.’

It takes her three hours to install his onyx arm and it takes hours of fine-tuning to set up the connections. Throughout the whole thing, Tony watches Shuri’s work rapturously, his eyes roving over the naked stump of Bucky’s arm and the metal port that sinks deep within it. It makes the back of Bucky’s neck burn and he stares at the ceiling for the most part, ignoring the wall of heat that Tony’s gaze projects onto him.

When Shuri is done, she sits back and puts her tools down. At the moment, the arm is completely powered down and all that remains is for them to switch it on.

Shuri tells him, ‘Are you ready?’

‘Absolutely not,’ Bucky tells her.

‘Great,’ she responds, then flips a switch.

Sensation, so intense that it blinds Bucky with pain, races all the way down his body. He can feel the scream of his left arm - demanding to be made real and felt. He hears the crackle of electricity as it lances through his body and the room spins, then there’s a screaming alarm as the floor seals itself off and the metal security doors come down to seal off the sunlight.

His breathing quickens and he hears someone murmuring above him; like the snatches of a scream in the midst of a thunderstorm.

The world goes white with pain and it never comes back. He drifts.

When he wakes up, he is lying on a cot in a glass room. As his eyes flutter open, the lights automatically adjust to a dimmer setting and he spots what looks like two small robots through the clear walls. On the table beside one of them lies a sleek piece of battle armour, all red, silver and bold all over. He must be in a Hydra base, he realises. He doesn’t see any handlers though, so he sits and waits for orders.

‘Good morning,’ an automated voice begins.

The Asset jumps and stares at one of the four pillars in the room, where the voice had come from. It’s one he hasn’t heard before - an Irish woman’s voice - but his handlers are always being changed and disposed of.

‘What is your name?’ she asks.

His left arm is tight and much more painful than usual. He glances down at his robotic arm and realises that they must have upgraded him while he was in the deep sleep. He traces the fingers of his real hand over it and registers that this new one is a big leap forwards. Before where he could hardly feel sensation, he can feel every callous on every pad of his fingers. It’s mesmerizing and he clenches his robotic fist open and closed, barely even able to pick out where the metal plates of each knuckle begin and end.

‘Sir, what is your name?’ the voice asks again and his head cracks up at that. Sir? That’s a change.

‘The Winter Soldier. Asset Number 144102. Are you my new handler?’ he asks.

The voice pauses. Then it continues, ‘Would you be able to tell me where you are and what year it is currently?’

‘A Hydra base. The current year is uncertain, but my last sleep was in 2007.’

‘Thank you.’

In the distance, he spots a pair of lift doors glide open and a man walks in. He doesn’t hold himself like an agent, there’s a swagger to his walk and his face is far too expressive. There’s also no way he would ever have passed for an undercover operative with facial hair like his and he sports a noticeable limp. His presence unsettles the Asset and he watches the man carefully. When the civilian eventually meets the Asset’s eyes, his gaze is a deep well of browns and hazels - each spiralling over one another.

The man slides into a chair beyond the glass and taps a button. His bright voice bursts through the pillars as he asks, ‘How are we doing?’

‘Ready for compliance,’ the Asset responds.

The man’s eyebrows shoot straight up into his forehead. ‘Well, that’s not good.’

The Asset doesn’t respond. He just waits for orders.

‘Are you in pain? Does your arm hurt?’ the man asks.

This is when he begins to realise something is really, desperately wrong. His handlers would never speak to him like this. He must have been kidnapped. The Asset rises to his feet and approaches the glass.

‘Do you remember who I am?’ the man asks again.

‘Negative.’

‘Aw come on, we’ve come so far. I don’t look the slightest bit familiar? At all? You're killing my confidence here,’ the man tells him, rubbing his goatee.

The Asset inhales deeply. His head is throbbing and none of this makes sense. He focuses on the man’s face - really, truly tries to identify him - and fails.

‘We’ve been living together the past couple of months? You tried to kill me once?’ he tries again.

‘I do not recognize you as a target,’ the Asset responds cautiously.

‘Better than nothing, I guess. You recognize the name Bucky Barnes? James Buchanan Barnes?’

‘I do not recognise you as a target,’ the Asset repeats.

The man sighs and drops dramatically into the computer chair, staring up at the ceiling. He says nothing for a minute, then:

‘Fuck.’

The Asset loses track of time in his glass box. The man, who he soon learns is called Tony, talks at him. He tells him about his life: about how his name was once James Buchanan Barnes and how he had a life before Hydra, one that is unimaginable even to the Asset’s ears. Tony then tells him about the fall of Hydra. When the man leaves for a little bit, the Asset tests his molar and finds that his cyanide capsule has been removed. He lives to see another day, despite protocol.

Tony brings him photographs, ancient journals from members of a group called the Howling Commandos and other times he just sits with him and talks. This visit is one of the latter.

‘If I open the door and sit in with you, will you kill me?’ Tony asks him.

Yes, the Asset answers mentally. The man has done nothing but feed him lies. The Asset’s only chance of returning to his Handler is through the one glass door which Tony has total control over. He waits too long to answer.

‘I thought so,’ Tony says, looking down at his screen. The Asset watches him.

The man’s silence strikes him like a physical blow. Before he can help it, the Asset is suddenly offering information, telling him, ‘My primary protocol is to return to Hydra and my handler for further instruction.’

‘I don’t know what else I can do to convince you that you’re not their slave anymore. You’re free. You can do anything you want,’ Tony tries, not for the first time.

The Asset doesn’t respond.

‘Okay, look. Just — just go to the far side of the room. I’m going to give you proof,’ Tony tells him.

Proof? The Asset’s interest is peaked. After a moment’s hesitation, he retreats to the corner of the glass box. Tony approaches with a pair of glasses in his hand and pauses, right outside the door of the box. The Asset runs calculations in his head, the second the man opens the door he can be over in mere breaths — smashing the man’s wrist in several places and snapping his neck like a twig.

Tony inhales sharply, slapping his face twice to hype himself up. Then he murmurs to himself, low enough to escape regular human hearing but not the Asset’s: ‘This isn’t about you. This is about them.’

The words ring like a bell in the Asset’s ears. The cadences and repetition are familiar to him for some reason. Before he can even pore over why, Tony has already opened the door, thrown the glasses in and slammed it shut.

The Asset picks them up and looks at Tony. Tony gestures for him to put them on and he does.

Tony says, ‘Don’t panic, there’s going to be a-‘

Light, the Asset finishes for him - feeling a distinct feeling of deja vu pass over him. A purple light passes over his pupils and the room fades into a shack, covered in springbok skins and a thatched roof. The sound of rain falling outside fills his ears. He glances towards where Tony had been sitting beyond the glass and can just about make out the man’s figure.

‘Welcome back to B.A.R.F., Sergeant Barnes,’ the Irish woman greets him. A series of small squares appears before him, each depicting a small scene and titled something different. Steve reunion WW2. Freight car fall. Stark assassination. Hydra SHIELD collapse. Bucky Steve Siberia. Tony reunion. Tony-

‘What is this?’ the Asset asks, watching a miniature version of himself play out scenes he doesn’t remember in the hundreds of thumbnails that autoplay before him.

‘Your memories. Or at least, what we could save of them. When Hydra put you in that chair, they broke some of them — we’re hoping you get them back,’ Tony tells him.

‘We?’

‘Me and Princess Shuri of Wakanda. And the UN, I guess. We were trying to use this machine to help you get control of your life again and get rid of all of Hydra’s programming. We were trying to undo your response to your activation words,’ Tony tells him.

‘Did it work?’ the Asset asks.

‘No. Not yet, anyway. If you go ahead and pick ‘Hydra SHIELD collapse’, it’ll probably tell you everything you need to know.’

The Asset doesn’t know whether to trust Tony. These memories could all be totally fabricated by the man, but these seem some pretty elaborate lengths to go to. And deep down, some secret forbidden part of him, wants to believe that this new life the man is offering him is true.

‘Just tap it when you’re ready,’ Tony tells him.

He meets Tony’s eyes through the hologram, through the glass. He makes a decision and selects the memory, free-falling into the rabbit hole Tony has offered. He gets the feeling that this isn’t the first time he’s made that choice.

Tony leaves him with the glasses, but seals off a number of the memories that the Asset can access. In the snatches between Tony’s visits, he pores over the files that have been highlighted meticulously by the genius’ hands. He blitzes through his encounters with a slight blonde man decades ago to his nights spent staring at the ceiling at a hut in Wakanda. He asks Tony as many questions as he can and the man obliges him, telling him in detail about the Howling Commandos, the way he lost his arm, the Wakandan princess named Shuri and somebody called Steve; whose name Tony stutters over. He begins to fill in the blanks and the names and faces begin to grow familiar, though there’s still this abyss he’s still trying to cross.

There are no recent memories of the tower that he can recognise, except for one called ‘Tony reunion’. He watches it several times in a row, watching another version of himself torturously speak into an intercom as Tony’s clipped voice slices through the intercom. The warmth of the man’s voice is completely absent, each word another centimetre of a nail sinking into his chest. He doesn’t understand why though. So he asks.

‘Why did you hate me so much?’ he says to Tony.

It throws the man for a loop. Tony asks, ‘Hate you?’

‘In one of my recent memories. You hated me,’ the Asset tells him.

Tony looks at him for a really long time, but doesn’t say anything. Then he ventures, ‘Do you remember Maria and Howard Stark?’

His mind fills him in. He remembers all the deaths. Civilian targets, staged car crash. Howard went down easily, he crushed Maria’s neck with his bare hands. She cried, begged him not to go for her son next.

‘Yes,’ the Asset responds, unable to elaborate.

‘They were my parents.’

The Asset looks away from Tony. He stares at his hands, one mechanical, one not. They fall into silence for a long time.

The glass door hisses and the Asset looks up as Tony enters his crystal prison. It’s the first time he’s stepped into the glass room with him and - in a stupid gesture of utter trust - the man leaves the door open. Tony approaches the cot and sits down beside the Asset, reaching out for the glasses.

The Asset hands them over without another word. Tony slides them onto his face and the Wakandan hut fades away, replaced by a clinical white room. Tony’s own memories begin to pop up, each brighter and more colourful than the next. Where the Asset’s memories were dull and full of death, Tony’s are a dizzying spread of colours — of a man who has lived his life to the fullest.

‘We’ve talked about it before,’ he tells the Asset. ‘Here.’

Tony waves a memory into existence. The enigmatic man sits at a kitchen counter, poring over a miniature flat computer, and then the Asset enters. They talk about Italian pasta, a stack of diaries from the Smithsonian and the Asset takes in the way his alternate version holds himself. There’s an awkwardness, a vulnerability he doesn’t recognise. It’s distinctly against his programming.

‘This was recently,’ the Asset states.

Tony nods. ‘A month ago, maybe.’

The Asset tunes back into the conversation he and Tony are having in the memory, they’re still on the topic of the museum. His younger self, this Bucky, tells Tony he’s been to the Howling Commandos exhibit at the Smithsonian.

The Asset says, suddenly and at exactly the same time as his younger self, ‘He had my old boots.’

Tony turns to him then. They’re sitting so close on the cot. He can feel the man’s body heat rolling off him like fire in winter, like the ones they would light sometimes at the training centre in Leningrad. A little blessing in the depths of cold.

‘You helped me,’ the Asset tells Tony, his temples beginning to throb, ‘when you didn’t have to. In spite of everything I have done to you.’

He remembers his arm shattering and the sight of a blonde man driving a starry shield into Tony’s chest. He remembers leaving Tony behind in the biting frost as the blood trickled out of his mouth, insisting to the blonde man that they call somebody and leave a phone - a way for someone to rescue Tony in the middle of nowhere. Siberia, he thinks. Siberia.

‘Yeah, well. You were persistent,’ Tony tells him, avoiding eye contact.

The Asset feels the fog clears and tells him with striking clarity, ‘I - that version of me in that memory - admired that about you I think. Your kindness. Selflessness.’

‘You clearly haven’t talked to any of my exes then,’ Tony quips.

The Asset glances at their legs, at how close they are together. The way Tony has come down every hour since this began, talking him through the gaps in his head. He begins, ‘Were we…?’

Tony’s brow furrows. ‘Were we what?’

‘Intimate?’

‘Oh. Oh, god no. I didn’t even realise you batted for that team,’ Tony blurts.

The Asset nods. Something bitter settles in the back of his throat.

‘Are you feeling better now?’ Tony changes the topic.

The Asset nods again. ‘I believe you now.’

‘You don’t want to kill me anymore?’

‘No.’

‘And your arm?’ Tony asks.

The Asset hasn’t thought about it in a little while. He holds it out to Tony for inspection and the man hesitates, then takes his proffered arm and begins running his hands across it. There’s so much sensation in this new build the Asset realises, every brush of the man’s fingers is a rush across his inner wrist, the crook of his elbow, and he fights to keep his heart rate level. He watches as something shifts in Tony’s eyes, sees as the engineer takes over and leaves the man behind.

‘It doesn’t hurt?’ Tony asks him.

‘Only at the port slightly. But the new builds always do for a couple of days,’ the Asset informs him.

Tony holds his hand up and laces his fingers through the Asset’s. He rotates his hand, watching the Asset’s go with it and tests the flexibility of his knuckles and wrist. The Asset’s heart rate skyrockets.

‘When Shuri’s back from the hospital, she can look over it and see if it’s still hurting you,’ Tony tells him.

The Asset thinks this Shuri woman was important to him. It hasn’t escaped notice that he’s omitted a lot of details about her. ‘It’s fine.’

Tony stops rotating his hand, then lets their entangled fingers drop to his lap. The sight of them mesmerises the Asset, seeing the cold hard metal softened by the honey skin of the man’s palm. Tony doesn’t let go and they sit, waiting for the other to break the silence.

Tony eventually does. He asks, ‘If I take you back upstairs to your floor, will you take the first moment you can to kill me?’

The Asset doesn’t inform him that by this point, he’s already chosen not to kill Tony dozens of times. He’s pretty sure Tony knows that, but he says anyways, ‘I won’t.’

‘Good,’ he tells him, rising up. The Asset’s hand slides out of his. ‘Because you need to take a shower and eat something. Then we can talk about what happens next.’

The Irish woman - the A.I., the Asset remembers - takes them up to the top of the building in a very fast lift. Tony heads straight for the coffee machine, makes himself a brew and lounges on the blue couch in a gorgeous room that the Asset has been told is his. The Asset watches him sip on his coffee and put his feet up on the coffee table, clearly accustomed to his space. In the meantime, the Asset goes to the shower. The Asset turns on the water and fights every fibre in his being, his programming, that screams for him to strangle himself on the cord. Hydra is dead. His orders determine that he should be too.

Instead, he washes his hair and emerges with a towel tied around his hips.

‘You done?’ Tony asks, turning to face him.

There’s a brief pause. The Asset reads the surprise, the heat and then the carefully cool expression that metamorphoses across the man’s face. Tony turns away from him and tells him, ‘Your bedroom’s through there on the left. There should be clothes in the drawer there.’

The Asset obliges, dressing himself. He leaves the door open. His handlers had always wanted eyes on him at all times, but this feels different - a choice he’s made himself. Tony politely refrains from looking. The Asset returns to Tony, sitting beside him on the couch, and runs his mechanical hand through his wet hair.

‘So. We need to talk about your treatment plan,’ Tony begins.

The Asset inclines his head. By now, he understands that he was trying to get better and deprogram. He doesn’t think that they ever got close, but they had made progress. The fact that he didn’t drown himself in the shower is proof of that.

‘Shuri was the one in charge of it, but she’s going to be back in Wakanda for the next week while she recovers. But I don’t think we can afford to wait for her to get back, the UN wants to evaluate you and see if you’re improving,’ Tony tells him.

Tony throws up the holoscreen between them and runs his hands across the list that appears, with a bolded title at the top that reads ‘TREATMENT PLAN V5’. There’s a combination of recommended therapies, memory thumbnails from B.A.R.F. and scribbled notes. It’s exhausting to look at.

Tony asks, ‘You with me, Barnes?’

‘Bucky,’ the Asset tells him idly, instinctively. The name pops into his head suddenly and without warning, but it’s one that feels lived in.

Tony blinks in surprise, unsure of how to respond. Then he nods and tells him with a triumphant smile, ‘Sure. Bucky.’

Bucky sits there for the next half hour with Tony, listening to the man describe in detail how they’re going to tackle his broken mind. The memory machine with the glasses features prominently and Tony keeps coming back to his activation words, keeps stressing how they’re going to focus on those first because realistically they’re the only things they’ll be able to tackle in time.

‘You said there would be an evaluation by somebody from the UN. How long do we have before then?’ Bucky asks.

‘Two weeks,’ Tony says with a grim expression on his face. ‘It was supposed to be another month but…’

‘I did something, didn’t I? That woman you keep talking about, Shuri. I hurt her, didn’t I?’ Bucky presses.

Things have slowly started coming together over the last day or two. While he doesn’t remember the encounter in detail, he remembers the sound of lightning and slamming a woman with dark skin through the coffee table that used to sit before the couch. (It’s been replaced with something different now, a wooden piece where the old one had been marble and copper.) Shuri had gone through it like butter and he had moved purely on instinct, crushing the bones in her hand before everything had faded into white - a tranq of some kind, he’s guessing.

‘Yeah. She wanted me to tell you she doesn’t blame you for it.’

She has a low laugh and tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. ‘Will she be okay?’

‘She’ll recover. She just has to have a complicated surgery back home in Wakanda, they need to reconstruct a couple of fingers,’ Tony explains.

Bucky looks at his own mechanical onyx arm, flexing it. She gave this to him, he remembers, and he repaid her by taking her hand.

‘Stop that, whatever you’re thinking right now. She’s going to be fine. In fact, she shouted at me this morning for slacking on your treatment plan,’ Tony said, rubbing the back of his neck.

‘What happens if I fail the evaluation?’ Bucky asks.

‘You’re not going to. You were making such great progress,’ Tony insists.

‘What happens if I fail?’ Bucky presses.

Tony’s jaw sets. He eventually admits, ‘They’re talking about continuing your treatment in a max security prison.’

‘The RAFT?’ Bucky asks. He thinks he was with the blonde man when they dove underwater to save a red-haired woman, an archer and somebody who called himself Falcon. The place was perpetually stale, thousands of miles from the sun and there were no engineers lounging on blue couches with dark eyes, running through holograms and options.

Tony inclines his head. ‘But you’re not going to. You were doing well and you’re going to make more progress before the UN arrives. They’ll see that.’

To be honest, Bucky’s not sure if he believes him but he wants to. After decades of Hydra, for the first time he desperately wants something and he wants this. To be lying in a room filled with sunlight with somebody else who believes he can get - can be - better, dreaming of a future beyond his mission parameters.

As he and Tony stew in the conversation just past, he takes in the sight of a small scabbed over wound on the man’s chin and thinks of the accident that resulted in it; a landing gone wrong right here in the tower. He had been in a scarlet suit of armour and crashed into the building like a meteor.

He can do this, he thinks. He’s remembering.

‘When do we start?’ Bucky asks.

-----

Tony runs him through a rigorous set of memories, spliced into sound bites of his activation words. Bucky has never actually remembered any of them - they wash out into white noise the moment he hears them, he explains - but Tony’s isolated them one by one.

He takes Bucky into the glass room again and slides on his glasses for him. He’s so close to him on the cot and Bucky can smell his aftershave on his wrist, a heady mix of wood smoke and rich florals.

‘Basically, we’re going with good old exposure therapy so we’ll go through all the instances your activation words have ever been said to you. But you’ll only ever hear one at a time in each session. In between each word session, we’ll splice together more positive memories to help you detach yourself from anything Hydra-related. The hope is that we’ll be able to change the way you respond to each of those words and break the connection,’ he explains.

‘Positive memories?’ Bucky asks. He isn’t sure he has many of them.

‘Yeah. F.R.I.D.A.Y. tracked your endorphin, dopamine and seratonin response to different memories during your uploads to B.A.R.F., so the ones with the highest spikes in-’

Bucky holds his hand up, he didn’t get much beyond a middle school education because of the war. ‘Slow down. My what response?’

‘Oh, right,’ Tony says aloud, realising. ‘The brain, it releases these chemicals when you’re happy. She tracked them to figure out what your happiest memories were, so we’ll play those between your sessions. To be honest, I haven’t looked over those specific memories myself so I guess we’ll find out what they are.’

It’s crazy to Bucky that something like happiness can be quantifiable, measured in the push and pull of hormones in the body.

Bucky asks, ‘How many times were my activation words said?’

‘I’m not telling you because you’re only going to use that number to torture yourself. I know you, Bucky,’ Tony tells him, adjusting Bucky’s glasses so they sit straight on his face.

The man isn’t wrong. The exposure therapy begins, word by word. They start with:

LONGING

The faces and the handlers whip by, each murmuring the word. Germany, France, Russia, America, Africa, China, Afghanistan, Sokovia. Bucky counts them all, 256 repetitions of the word. 256 missions.

After the last, his redheaded handler with a smile like a knife dissolves and she takes snowy Colorado with her. It gives way to the greenery of South Africa and Steve Rogers, standing like sunshine beside him. They sit side by side on top of Tabletop Mountain on a summer’s day in Cape Town, seeing the world roll out before them.

‘You don’t miss America?’ another armless version of Bucky asks him.

Steve pulls a blade of grass from the ground beside him, tearing it to shreds between his fingers. ‘I miss the way it used to be. Things made sense before, back when it was just you and me.’

‘What, in that shitty flat in Brooklyn with no heating?’ Bucky asks him.

‘Yeah.’

Bucky in the future remembers their home, a tiny thing which he eventually convinced Steve to decorate with his sketches and paintings. They used to sit on the same cot when it got really cold with mugs of steaming soup clutched between their hands, talking about the military draft.

‘I don’t regret taking the serum, or the Commandos or any of that,’ Steve elaborates, ‘But I just wish that we had seen out the end of the war and lived a long, boring life after that.’

Bucky leans back and stares up at the sky. ‘We’ve never done boring, Steve. We would have gone mad.’

RUSTED

The word repeats 256 times, spoken by 234 different handlers. The final handler, an elderly Japanese man, fades into a plane cockpit. At the helm sits a man with dark eyes, brimming with effortless nobility, and he turns around to flash a grin at a younger Bucky.

‘I think you may want to see this, Sergeant Barnes,’ the man - King T’Challa - tells him.

Bucky approaches and peers out the window. It’s a vast endless landscape of thick green jungle, but the entire world shivers as they pass through some unseen barrier. Bucky’s ears pop and as he blinks, the world suddenly gives way to this breathtaking metropolis teeming with skyscrapers unlike anything he’s ever seen. Their jet coasts over a gigantic floating train line, something straight out of those science fiction pictures he used to drag Steve out to see.

FURNACE

It continues. 256 times. 211 of them assassinations, he remembers. He thinks of his redheaded former handler, a woman who now goes by Natasha, and the fires they used to huddle round in Russia. Her eyes had danced and then she had taken him by the hand into a derelict building, where she had peeled off his clothing and he had breathed her in.

DAYBREAK

256 times, 78 times he resisted and they fried his brain in a chair until he forgot his own name. Then, the Commandos first big victory in the war and the way the sunlight had greeted them as Falstaff raised an Allied flag.

SEVENTEEN

256 times, too many times he had been hosed down like a beast afterwards. His birthday in the depths of some forgotten bit of German territory. There had been no cake, but Dum Dum Dugan had stabbed seventeen cigarettes into a rations crate packed with mud as the Commandos sang happy birthday in whispers. God, he had loved them so much-

B.A.R.F. fades back into the Wakandan hut and Bucky spots Tony through the hologram, giving him a thumbs up. Bucky sits up in the cot, looking over at him questioningly.

‘Okay, we’ve run through half the words. Shuri’s treatment plan says we need to playback the activation words out in full and see if they trigger something in you,’ Tony explains. ‘We can do that first thing tomorrow.’

‘How many days do we have left until the evaluation?’ Bucky asks.

Tony’s mouth sets into a grim line. ‘Ten.’

‘How secure is this room?’ Bucky asks.

‘Secure enough to hold you, if that’s what you’re asking,’ Tony tells him.

Bucky hasn’t tested this new arm so he doesn’t know its full strength, but he believes Tony at his word. If he goes under, he isn’t sure what he’ll do but at least Tony will be safe.

‘Run the activation string,’ Bucky says to him.

‘You sure?’

‘We’ve only got ten days,’ Bucky states. ‘I’m sure.’

It goes terribly. Bucky shuts down on the seventh word. When he comes to, Tony is wearing different clothing - the man quietly informs Bucky that he had an episode and they lost an entire day.

‘Do you think the treatment is even helping?’ Tony ventures.

Bucky pauses, then says, ‘I was lucid for longer. I could actually hear more of the words, they usually just slide over me.’

‘Is that a good thing?’ Tony asks.

‘I don’t know. It’s different.’

Tony’s driver, Happy, brings them Chinese takeout without asking. Before the man skitters away - Tony pulls him into a hallway a short distance away from Bucky and hands over a check; one that Tony informs the man quietly will cover his mother’s chemotherapy with no strings attached. Bucky pretends not to hear Happy’s soft tears, nor Tony’s assurances that he needs nothing in return.

Tony returns with the boxes of takeout. Tony tells him they’re going to be eating it on Bucky’s floor, acting as though he hasn’t just completely changed Happy’s life. Bucky follows him into the lift, taking the bags from him.

They eat everything on Bucky’s couch. Tony crosses his legs underneath him and talks about next steps, how they’ll run through all the previous trigger words and keep on adding more gradually. He hardly touches his food, which Bucky notices.

‘You’re not eating?’ Bucky asks him.

Tony blinks, staring down at his open yet untouched container of lemon chicken. ‘Oh, I didn’t even realise.’

Bucky shovels more rice and vegetables onto the man’s plate when Tony gets up to make coffee, but it’s a secret he’ll take to the grave. It doesn’t escape Tony’s notice and he raises an eyebrow at him, though Tony eats all of it without complaining. Bucky takes control of the conversation and starts talking because he can see how exhausted the man is. If he’s being completely truthful, he wants to talk about anything but the shadow looming over them.

Instead, Bucky tells him about the army draft. Tony breaks out into genuine tears of laughter when Bucky describes his first ever mandatory prostate exam, which he spent bent over a military cot with a little old Jewish man poking around in his ass.

‘Honestly, if I didn’t know before then that I liked men, it would’ve scared me off them altogether,’ Bucky tells him, drunk on the sound of Tony’s laughter.

‘You’re gay?’ Tony asks him in surprise, ‘I thought you were a total ladies man.’

A flush of heat travels up the back of Bucky’s neck. ‘I did alright for myself, back in the day. But it was never just women, or just men. I just liked who I liked. I used to think that if I was probably going to die young in the war anyway, I might as well take up with anybody pretty I could get.’

Tony smiles at him. His lashes are thick and dark, sweeping the tops of his cheeks. ‘Anybody pretty, huh? Exacting standards.’

Bucky knows without a shadow of a doubt that back then, Tony would have been top of the list. Now however, he ignores the urge to reach out and wipe the smear of lemon chicken sauce off the bow of the man’s pink mouth. To rest his warm hand on Tony’s cheek and see what would happen if he leaned in.

Instead, he responds, ‘Honestly, anybody with a full set of teeth counted back in the 20s.’

‘The 21st century must be a smorgasbord of choice for you then. Nearly everybody has a dentist,’ Tony tells him.

‘Yeah,’ Bucky responds, thinking of the way Tony changed Happy’s life earlier without a second thought. ‘I’ve got different parameters now.’

Tony thankfully doesn’t press. But after their conversation dives off on a wildly different tangent, Tony returns to the topic suddenly when he tells him, ‘You know, I’m the same way. Bisexual, I mean.’

‘I know. When I googled you, some interesting things came up,’ Bucky tells him.

‘Ah, youth.’

Bucky side-eyes him. ‘There was a news report about a sex party you hosted last year.’

Tony grins at him. His teeth are slightly crooked, but white and full of character. Full set.

‘I was technically younger then,’ he tells Bucky, which prompts an unexpected laugh.

Later that night after Tony leaves the floor, Bucky thinks of the snatches of intimacy he does remember. He remembers the alleys in little European towns with names too difficult to parse, the slide of a spit-slick palm across his cock, open mouthed kisses burning with stubble and the delicious pain of men sinking into him: inch by wonderful inch. For the first time in decades, he feels his cock stir and slips his hand into his boxers. His mouth falls open on a gasp as he brings himself off with the light of Tony's arc reactor dotted behind his eyes.

He stumbles out onto the balcony afterwards, his legs like jelly as he scrabbles for a cigarette. He lights up, leans back in his chair and can't help it - he laughs out loud when he thinks of what he's just done. Figures that his sex drive would return the moment he was on the brink of solitary imprisonment.

They return to B.A.R.F. the next day. They sit in for longer sessions (with only nine days to go, time is of the essence) and Tony runs through all of Bucky’s previous words, then piles on the newer ones as they go. They test his response to the full activation phrase at the end of each and it is gruelling.

BENIGN, nine days to go

17 missions that didn’t result in a casualty. His mother, the curve of her mouth as she begrudgingly gave into his nickname for the first time.

Tony runs the activation string again, Bucky destroys one of B.A.R.F.’s towers on accident. They lose another day and Bucky comes to his senses in the glass room. Tony says nothing for an hour after he wakes, just lets him out of B.A.R.F. and goes back to furiously building a replacement for the damaged tech.

‘I’m sorry,’ Bucky tells him. ‘I know it must be expensive.’

With a sigh, Tony tosses an electric screwdriver on the lab table and swivels on his stool to face Bucky. ‘It’s not about money, Bucky. I could Scrooge McDuck and swim through my finances if I wanted to, that’s not a problem. I’m just pissed we don’t have more time.’

‘What can I do to help?’ Bucky asks.

Tony rises to his feet and puts a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. ‘You can get me a coffee. No, a litre of coffee. And then you can go get some rest.’

‘I’m not tired,’ Bucky protests.

‘Well, I am. Go off and get enough sleep for the both of us. I can sleep after the evaluation,’ Tony tells him.

Bucky knows they need Tony to repair that broken tower, but he wonders if the man would have come willingly with him if he’d taken him by the hand and brought him with him. If he’d slide into bed and gradually dissolve into sleep beside him.  It’s a ridiculous, ridiculous fantasy and Bucky’s been having more of them recently.

NINE, seven days to go

97 civilian targets. Fewer than Bucky thought, to be honest. Afterwards, Steve bursts into that hellish Hydra experimentation facility in the war, peels him off that lab table and yanks out the lines connected to him. Bucky still remembers how exhausted he was - Steve had had to half-carry him out of the building as his ragtag team of soldiers held off enemy footmen. Once they had enough distance from the site, everything had caught up with him. Bucky had cried silently as Steve made some polite comment about the smoke from the explosion getting in all their eyes.

‘No, you idiot,’ younger Bucky tells Steve. ‘You saved my life. I’m taking a moment, I deserve this.’

Steve hesitates, then slides an arm around younger Bucky. He confesses, now in tears himself, ‘When they said your squad had gone missing, I didn’t know if you were alive or not. I was scared, Buck.’

‘I always knew you’d make it out here,’ younger Bucky tells him.

Steve throws him a look. ‘No, you didn’t.’

‘No, I didn’t,’ younger Bucky admits, laughing though it hurts his ribs. ‘But I always knew you could.’

They run the activation words again. They see a little breakthrough - even though Bucky goes under, he hesitates for an entire 27 seconds before launching into his programming. It’s a little victory, even if it probably isn’t good enough for the UN. He loses less time this time around; four hours, not a huge devastating block like last time.

Tony celebrates by ordering honest to god lobster and dishes from one of Manhattan’s fanciest Italian restaurants, a place called Carbone. There’s enough there to feed an entire team of people.

‘Do I want to know how much all of this cost?’ Bucky asks.

Happy has taken to delivering their food to Bucky’s floor now, rather than directly to the somewhat cold kitchen and lounge set up downstairs. Tony has taken his usual spot, cross-legged in front of the coffee table on the floor and Bucky sinks down to his level - laying out the takeaway boxes as the man cracks them open beside him.

‘I’ll take it out of your future New Avengers salary,’ Tony tells him, smiling across the table at him.

There should be more people at this table, sharing this meal with them. Bucky burns thinking of Tony sitting by himself post-mission, hunched over his StarkPad with a cold coffee at his side.

Tony falls asleep on the couch purely on accident, curled into the arm of the blue monster. Bucky considers waking him up, but the man looks so peaceful for once. Instead, Bucky returns with a blanket, drapes it over the man and sits down beside him for few blissful minutes - drinking in Tony’s expression. He reaches out and brushes the backs of his fingers over Tony’s cheek.

HOMECOMING, six days to go

34 children. The moment the lift doors parted in New Avengers tower, revealing Bucky’s floor for the first time and the rush of love that had filled him from tips to toes.

He crashes harder than he has ever done before when Tony runs through the activation words again. When he wakes up, the cot is crushed to pieces and he is lying strewn in a mess of white metal - the remains of B.A.R.F.. He finds out much later that he lost an entire day and a half, which puts them way behind schedule. There are shadows underneath Tony’s eyes and not for the first time, his anxiety is palpable and he is uncharacteristically silent. The man is exhausted and he spent all night rebuilding the machine, recalibrating it and making sure it would be ready for Bucky when he woke up again.

‘You should move that Spider kid into the tower,’ Bucky tells him later that evening.

Tony throws a surprised look at him. ‘What?’

‘It’s good to keep the team together, especially since he’s working more closely with you in the field,’ Bucky advises.

‘He wouldn’t move in, he’s always wanted to stay with his family,’ Tony says. ‘Where is this coming from anyway?’

‘You shouldn’t be on your own. If I end up going to the RAFT, then-’

‘Are you thinking about giving up on treatment?’ Tony demands.

‘No,’ Bucky says immediately, ‘Never. But I’m just saying, if I fail then you’re going to need extra hands to help you with the New Avengers. You shouldn’t be on your own.’

‘You’re not going to fail the evaluation,’ Tony tells him and Bucky wishes he had the man’s confidence.

‘We should talk about what happens if I do,’ Bucky says gently.

Tony stares at him, his eyes twin balls of simmering heat. He tells him, ‘You need to talk to Steve.’

‘What?’

‘Every breakthrough we’ve had with B.A.R.F. has happened after a memory of you and Steve. Maybe talking to him will help. You still have the phone I gave you?’ Tony asks.

‘Tony, don’t change the subject-’

‘I’m not,’ Tony tells him. ‘But as your UN-appointed supervisor, there are conversations with you I can’t have. Do you understand?’

Tony wants him to go back to Steve if things don’t work out with the evaluation, Bucky realises. He would rather that Bucky run from the law for the rest of his life and be reunited with his worst enemy, rather than be thrown into the RAFT.

‘Would you be allowed to come see me in the RAFT, you think?’ Bucky asks him.

Tony shakes his head. ‘Not after the stunt Steve pulled when he broke the rest of you out of there.’

Bucky calls Steve that night. The phone crackles and finally, the man picks up the line.

Steve’s voice is like stepping into a warm house after walking for hours in the snow. ‘Tony? If this is about Bucky, then-’

‘Stevie,’ Bucky begins, ‘it’s me.’

There’s a short silence. Then on the other end of the line, he hears a shuddering breath.

‘Don’t cry you bastard, you’ll get me going,’ Bucky warns him.

It’s too late now, Steve is on usual form. Steve isn’t a messy crier, but his voice does this low, slow thing where every word becomes a mission to force out. He asks, ‘Buck, are you okay?’

‘You’re not mad at me?’ Bucky asks.

‘Of course I am,’ Steve snaps, ‘you disappeared without saying anything. But I’m going to shout at you later. It’s just good to hear your voice.’

‘Still a big sap then,’ Bucky tells him, though he feels the same way.

Steve repeats, ‘Are you okay? Is Tony treating you badly?’

‘No,’ Bucky says quickly, a reaction so swift it seems to be ingrained into him. Like snatching away his fingers from fire, like shivering in the cold, defending Tony has become second-nature to him. ‘Tony’s treating me well, he’s helping me get better.’

There’s another small pause, like Steve doesn’t quite believe that information. Then Steve responds, ‘Is he?’

‘He’s been-’ kind to a fault, completely selfless, his lighthouse ‘- really helpful. He’s amazing, Steve.’

‘Okay. Well, that’s good to hear at least,’ Steve responds stiffly.

They talk for a couple of hours about everything, about B.A.R.F. and Shuri and the tower. They skirt around Tony like a sinkhole in a living room. Steve tells him as vaguely as possible about the rest of the gang and about the good they’re doing, he hints more than once that he and the rest of them could easily come and save him from the tower. Bucky is not a damsel in distress however, not a Stockholm Syndrome beauty or a secret princess stashed away for safekeeping. He doesn’t talk to Steve about what happens after the evaluation if he fails - not yet, anyways.

ONE, four days to go

0 failed missions. Then, the fancy takeaway dinner he and Tony shared literally just a few days ago, watching the man inhale food and describe in unnecessarily furious detail how real carbonara is never made with cream. Bucky smiles watching the memory, his eyes following simulated Tony as he wanders over to the coffee machine and back several times, as the dark-haired genius migrates to the couch and leans on one hand as he listens to him through gradually lowering eyes.

The memory continues and Bucky watches himself run his hand over sleeping Tony’s cheek. It’s almost blinding to watch - he never thought for a second he could be capable of such softness - and something lodges in his throat. Bucky faces a secret he’s kept for a long time: he is completely and totally gone on Tony Stark. Anybody with eyes can see it and he feels Tony’s through the glass wall of B.A.R.F., searing through him like satellite rays.

The activation trial goes better, but not great. He resists the pull for a full minute this time and even though his body launches into motion, re-enacts the ferocity of the assassination his younger self goes through - Bucky drags way behind. His movements are more sloppy and for the first time, he feels present : he knows he’s launching into his programming but his world doesn’t go white. He sees Tony typing notes through the glass, hears the sound of the bots whirring in the lab and feels his muscles strain with every movement.

He doesn’t lose any time, B.A.R.F. powers down and he is completely, totally lucid. His body shakes with the strain of it and he sits down suddenly on the replaced cot, pressing his flushed face against the coldness of his metal hand.

Tony runs through the standard test questions, he starts, ‘What is your name-’

‘James Buchanan Barnes,’ Bucky tells him wildly, breathlessly, ‘It’s 2018. I’m in your lab in the New Avengers tower.’

Tony’s head snaps up from his StarkPad and he stares at him. He then waves his hand and the door to the glass room hisses open. The New Avenger ventures inside and hesitates by the doorway, his eyes roving over every inch of him for abnormalities - some glitch in the matrix.

He tests, ‘Bucky?’

‘I’m here, Tony,’ Bucky says, the words pouring out of him.

A tiny, hopeful thing pulls at the corner of Tony’s mouth. He reaches out to Bucky and Bucky inclines his head towards him easily, allowing Tony to slide the glasses off his head. Bucky shuts his eyes, inhaling the grounding scent of Tony’s rich aftershave and listening to the sound of his heartbeat, then tiredly opens them again.

The small smile on Tony’s face has become a full on grin. He says wondrously, ‘You’re really here.’

Bucky nods, smiling hesitantly in return - worried that if he does something then he’ll ruin it. Tony reaches out again and begins wiping the sweat from Bucky’s face with his bare hands. Bucky is too exhausted to fight himself on this, he leans his cheek into Tony’s palm.

Tony has seen everything now, the stolen caress a couple of nights ago. He must know how Bucky feels. Surely.

‘I’m here,’ Bucky declares.

FREIGHT CAR, three days to go

187 different aliases. Then, his positive memory is a repetition of yesterday: Bucky’s mini breakthrough, the hesitant joy, the way Bucky had bowed towards Tony like a plant to the sun. Tony doesn’t comment on it and neither does Bucky, who doesn’t dare to hope that anything will come of whatever this is.

The activation string hits him hard and this time, it’s easier for him to remain present. He still follows through with all the motions however, he can’t quite get his muscles to stop working the way his programming has forced them. Sure it’s a breakthrough, but Bucky can’t help but feel like a prisoner in his own body.

At the end of the day, he still acts on his trigger words, he still lures a civilian into an alleyway and kills him like a dog behind the dumpster. It means nothing if Bucky is present, he realises. He still can’t keep himself from doing what Hydra once ordered him to do.

‘That was the last word,’’ Tony tells him after they finish for the day.

‘What does the treatment programme say we do now?’ Bucky asks Tony.

Tony pulls up the document Shuri shared with him when the UN deal was struck, flicking through huge blocks of text on a holoscreen. He scrolls, but then the text bounces back. He’s hit the end of the treatment plan, it’s gone unfinished in her absence.

‘I’ll call her in the morning. Her surgery was earlier today so I doubt she’ll be awake to walk me through it,’ Tony says, ‘there’s no way she would have left it like this.’

‘Maybe she needed to see how I responded to the treatment, before she could start planning the next steps,’ Bucky suggests. And, he adds mentally, feed the information back to Sam Wilson so he could help her devise what happened next.

Tony leans back in his chair, crossing his hands over his stomach. He asks Bucky, ‘So what do we do now?’

Bucky slides the glasses back on and walks right back into B.A.R.F., even though his body is screaming at him to sleep. He tells Tony, ‘We run it again.’

LONGINGRUSTEDFURNACEDAYBREAKSEVENTEENBENIGNNINEHOMECOMINGONEFREIGHTCAR, two days to go

Tony and Bucky run the activation words again and again and again. They manage it a total of thirty four times and of those thirty four, Bucky falls victim to all of them. As he gets more frustrated, he starts to lose lucidity altogether - towards the end, he actually backslides and goes under. When he comes to, Tony is sitting on the floor with his back against B.A.R.F.’s glass wall and is completely fast asleep.

When F.R.I.D.A.Y. welcomes Bucky back to the world and begins asking him the usual questions - what is your name, what year is it, where are you? - Bucky answers all of them irritably. Halfway through, Tony wakes up and releases Bucky from B.A.R.F. once he responds to all of them. The former assassin sits down heavily beside Tony and watches the bots buffet one another back and forth across the lab.

‘How long was I out?’ Bucky asks him, dreading the answer.

‘Almost three hours,’ Tony says.

And just like that, Bucky can feel the RAFT lapping at his ankles. He throws his head back against the glass with a dull thud, inhaling deeply through his nose, and tries not to spiral. Moments later, there’s a soft weight on his shoulder as Tony leans his head on him and Bucky opens his eyes as Tony’s dark hair tickles his nose.

‘You’re making progress,’ Tony reminds him.

‘I know,’ Bucky tells him, ‘but not enough for the evaluation.’

‘We don’t know that,’ Tony says. ‘But you should still be proud of yourself.’

Bucky sighs quietly and rests his head on top of Tony’s. They sit in silence for the most part as the bots whirr and purr in the quiet lab, as the smell of Tony's aftershave rises to embrace him.

‘If I go back to Steve, how much trouble will you be in?’ Bucky asks him.

‘Nothing I haven’t been able to get myself out of before,’ Tony tells him.

That night, Bucky calls Foggy Nelson. Foggy picks up after four rings, sounding harried on the other end.

‘Bucky? Bucky, Jesus Christ, Shuri said there was a situation and that you weren’t ready to talk, then the UN said they were suspending meetings until after your mental evaluation but-’ Foggy blurts, his mouth running a mile a minute.

‘Foggy,’ Bucky tells him, feeling a wave of fondness come over him. ‘I’m fine.’

‘Christ. Christ, okay. It was just after what happened with Shuri, I wanted to make sure where your head was at. It wasn’t your fault you know, she explained the whole thing and said the arm install had just triggered some kind of flashback,’ Foggy rolls on.

Well, if Bucky had any doubts before that he was the one who had put Shuri in the hospital - Foggy had just quelled all of them. He goes out onto the balcony, fumbling for his cigarettes and eventually, finally, lights one.

‘How is she?’ Bucky asks, not really sure he’ll be able to handle it if she’s anything but alright.

‘She’s okay, she’s in good spirits. She’s scheduled for another surgery soon, but they’re saying she’ll have full use of her hands again after she heals from the next op. Wakandan tech man, it’s something else,’ Foggy says.

Bucky knows he should be relieved, but it only just leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He remembers the taste of roobois tea, her hands smoothing over his hair. ‘Right.’

Foggy pauses. Then he says quietly, ‘Hey man. Are you okay? I’m assuming this isn’t just a catch up call, but you know we can just talk about how you’re doing if you want.’

Bucky takes a long, almost painful drag of his cigarette. The smoke curls in his throat, burning him as he lets it out in one steady jet. ‘I’m not doing good, Foggy. I’m going to fail my evaluation.’

And where Tony has always been ferociously stubborn and in total denial, Foggy just completely and instantly gets it. Bucky supposes that’s what makes Foggy such a great lawyer - where Tony calculates and thinks in endless possibilities, Foggy sees the world as it truly is.

‘Okay. I’ve already started drafting up talking points and I’m going to do everything I can to make sure you spend as little time in the RAFT as possible,’ Foggy says.

Bucky watches the cigarette smoke rise like a question mark above him. Upstairs, Tony is playing rock music with the windows wide open.

Bucky asks, ‘I can’t talk for long, but how much trouble does Stark get into if I hypothetically escape from him?’

‘Hypothetically as your lawyer, I’d tell you it doesn’t end well for either of you. He’ll probably have his New Avengers privileges stripped from him at worst,’ Foggy explains.

‘And - hypothetically - if I escaped and the UN found out that he had helped me flee in some way?’ Bucky ventures next.

‘Oh no doubt about it, he’d get the RAFT instantly. His Iron Man armour would probably be confiscated according to the Accords as well, but I’m sure his lawyers have safeguards to keep the tech from falling into the wrong hands,’ Foggy explains.

‘Okay, thanks,’ Bucky says.

‘Don’t do it, Bucky. Whatever you’re thinking of doing, it’s not worth it,’ Foggy tells him.

Later that night, Bucky leaves his plastic phone on the side table and doesn’t call Steve.

LONGINGRUSTEDFURNACEDAYBREAKSEVENTEENBENIGNNINEHOMECOMINGONEFREIGHTCAR, final day

Bucky wakes up and goes to the kitchen. He finds Tony there sipping on a coffee, frowning over a familiar, endless document that he’s learned are readings from B.A.R.F.. As always, Tony swipes politely and hides the findings from Bucky when he approaches. Although Tony is usually ready with a wry quip to start the day, he’s all business the moment Bucky steps onto the floor.

‘So let’s try running the activation string alongside the positive memories you had a better response to,’ Tony starts, words spilling out of him, ‘We’ve never tried rerunning the same memory before and maybe that’s the way to go-’

As Tony rattles off at a mile a minute, Bucky watches the man’s mind at work and lets his voice wash over him. He’s learned to tell when Tony slips into genius mode - something comes over the brunette and sets off a light in his eyes. Bucky basks in the sound of his baritone as he talks, and talks, and talks, until Tony runs out of things to say and trails off.

‘Are you okay?’ Tony asks him finally.

‘Let’s not do B.A.R.F. today,’ Bucky says.

Tony stares at him. ‘Are you serious? The evaluation is tomorrow .’

‘I know, but at this point I don’t know if one more day is going to make much of a difference,’ Bucky tells him.

‘So what, you’re just giving up after all the work you’ve put into getting better?’ Tony demands. ‘After dragging me kicking and screaming to Foggy and fighting the UN, after all those sessions-’

‘Tony, I’m not giving up. You know better than anyone that I’m seeing this through and I’m going to get better,’ Bucky says patiently.

‘Then stop being stupid and let’s get down the lab,’ Tony states.

‘But you also know that when I fail my evaluation tomorrow, my treatment doesn’t end. It continues, just down in the RAFT. Today’s my last day up here and I don’t want to spend it rehashing the worst parts of my life,’ Bucky explains.

Tony says stubbornly, ‘You don’t know that you’re going to fail.’

Bucky levels him with a look.

‘You don’t!’ Tony insists.

The billionaire’s coffee is nearly empty, so Bucky stands up and grabs the French press from the the other side of the kitchen. He tops Tony’s cup up and sits down beside him again, leaning his face on his hand. Bucky says, ‘Let me prepare myself for the worst. When I go to the RAFT-’

‘- if you go to the RAFT-’

‘-sure, if , I want to look back on this and remember that I had one ordinary day. That’s all I’m asking for,’ Bucky tells him.

Tony pauses. Then he says, ‘You can’t leave the tower though. The UN’s got that tracker on you.’

‘I don’t need to leave the tower. I just want to laze around, smoke a lot and chat shit with someone,’ Bucky explains. Preferably with Tony.

A pained expression crosses Tony’s face. He leaves the coffee untouched and passes a hand across his mouth, looking deliberately away from Bucky. He begins, ‘Okay. So hypothetically, if I leave the tower, turn off my phone for the rest of the day and disable F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s security cameras for a routine upgrade - anybody could wander in and visit you in the tower. And hypothetically, I wouldn’t stop you but I wouldn’t want to know it had happened. You get me?’

‘I’m not talking about Steve,’ Bucky cuts through Tony’s rant. ‘I was thinking you and I could just hang out.’

That seems to genuinely floor Tony. ‘On your last day?’

Bucky raises an eyebrow. ‘Am I speaking Russian again or something?’

That seems to shatter the tension and a surprised laugh escapes from Tony’s mouth. He says, ‘So, that’s a joke you definitely shouldn’t crack during your evaluation.’

‘The UN doesn’t have a sense of humour?’

‘Oh yes, I forgot how hilarious your Accords tribunal was,’ Tony responds. 

Bucky feels the smallest of grins coming on and when Tony glances his way, the man mirrors his expression. It gradually fades and eventually leaves the two of them in silence, soaking in one another’s presence.

Bucky breaks it, rising to his feet. He approaches the fridge, pulls out a gigantic box of cold pizza and grabs the jug of coffee - still half full of lukewarm brew.

‘Come upstairs,’ he tells Tony, breezing past the man to the lift.

It takes Tony a second, but then he launches into motion. He says, ‘Well, if you’re taking the coffee with you.’

Bucky laughs, easily, effortlessly. They stand in the lift side by side and Tony takes the coffee from Bucky, swigging it straight from the jug and flashes a smile at him. Full set of teeth, Bucky thinks wildly.

Tony finishes the jug in record time on the balcony as Bucky sucks two cigarettes to the filter, stubbing them out in a crowded ashtray. They retreat to the lounge where Tony sprawls out on the sapphire couch while Bucky sits on the ground beside him, his back pressed up against it. He can feel Tony’s knees knocking against his shoulder blades when he shifts.

‘Let’s say the UN turns around and miraculously gives you free reign. What’s the first thing you do?’ Tony asks him, picking idly at a stray couch thread dangerously close to Bucky’s shoulder.

‘See Steve,’ Bucky says immediately.

Tony rolls his eyes. ‘Yeah, but after that.’

Bucky tilts his head to the side. He feels the pads of Tony’s fingertips against his head and doesn’t move, worried that Tony will pull them away if he does.

‘I don’t know,’ he tells him honestly.

‘Really? You don’t want to go to Central Park or see a Dodgers game, or something equally as trite?’ Tony asks.

‘God, I bet those were the first things Steve did when he woke up,’ Bucky says.

Tony sniggers. ‘Captain America is the world’s greatest tactician, but Steve Rogers is utterly predictable.’

Bucky turns his face towards Tony on the couch, staring at the joints of his mechanical arm as they shift and sift over one another. Tony eventually, finally, tangles his fingers in Bucky’s hair.

Tony says idly, ‘Your hair’s getting long. We should get it cut at some point.’

Bucky glances up at him, grinning. ‘You don’t like it long?’

‘No,’ Tony tells him honestly, following the length of a lock and twisting it between his fingers. ‘It reminds me of the way you were. Before, in Siberia.’

It’s the first time that word has ever been brought up between them and it floats between them, like a petal on the skin of a lake. The guilt rises in Bucky. Tony doesn’t draw away, he just slides his palm over Bucky’s cheek with an unreadable expression.

‘We’ve never talked about it,’ Bucky ventures.

Tony shakes his head. ‘I wasn’t ready to.’

‘No, me neither.’

Tony stares at his own hand, the way Bucky turns towards it like wheat to the sun. ‘I think I’m ready now. I think I understand why Steve gave everything up for you.’

‘We grew up together, we’re family,’ Bucky explains apologetically.

‘That too. But I think he believes in you,’ Tony tells him. ‘In your goodness.’

‘He was always painfully optimistic,’ Bucky says.

Tony hums in agreement. He smooths his palm over Bucky’s cheekbone, over his temple and rakes his fingers through his chestnut hair. Bucky gazes at him then allows his eyelids to shut, slowly, like someone falling asleep.

‘I want to forgive you. I really do,’ Tony tells him, only brave enough now that Bucky isn’t looking directly at him.

For muscling his way into his life. For Siberia. For his mother and father. Bucky swallows. ‘You don’t need to.’

‘I know. But I just can’t get over the night my parents died. Even when we’re just like this, lying around and doing nothing, it casts a shadow,’ Tony admits.

He isn’t the only one who feels like that. Sometimes, Bucky sees Howard in tricks of the light, sees Maria Stark’s pearls in Tony’s smile.

‘Back in Siberia,’ Tony begins, ‘I looked away from that video that started playing. The one where you killed my parents. I just looked away and I wish I hadn’t.’

Bucky doesn’t respond. He can’t.

‘I know you remember it. The memory came up crystal clear on B.A.R.F., but I think I was just waiting for you to show me yourself,’ Tony explains.

‘I couldn’t do that to you,’ Bucky says.

Tony inclines his head and pulls his hand away. He sits up on the couch. ‘I know. But I still want to see how you remember it, rather than just watching it through some security tape.’

Bucky’s skin prickles as Tony presses the length of his calf against the side of his arm, one long streak of wildfire. He doesn’t know what to tell the man. He knows how he remembers it, but B.A.R.F. has a way of illuminating the smallest details and changing what he thinks he knows of the past.

Bucky finally says, ‘I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Tony.’

‘I know I’m asking a lot. I just feel like I need to see that it wasn’t you - not really you - when it happened. You do this thing, your eyes just go and it’s like I’m staring down an empty hallway,’ Tony tells him, ‘I can’t stop thinking about it.’

Bucky feels Tony’s gaze on the back of his neck like a furnace.

Tony asks, ‘Will you show me?’

Bucky gives in, as he always does when it comes to Tony. He follows the man into the lift, down into the abyss. When they enter the lab, it’s deathly silent and Bucky can feel the tension in the air. Tony leads Bucky into the transparent box and Bucky sits heavily on the new cot.

Bucky stares down at his onyx arm. Tony eventually sits down beside him, leaning back on his wrists as they sit in silence for a couple of beats.

‘You know, we don’t have to do this,’ Tony says suddenly, rising to his feet, ‘let’s just forget the whole thing-‘

Bucky grabs his hand before he can go. ‘Do you really feel like you need this?’

Tony avoids the question and responds, ‘We’ll run through the last set of treatment plans instead and prep for tomorrow, the team from the UN are coming at 2pm so that gives us time to-‘

‘Tony. I’ll do it. But we can’t come back from this,’ Bucky tells him.

I can’t come back from this, he thinks. What if he sees a glimmer of humanity in his own eyes as he destroys Tony's parents? Bucky can’t bear it, to think that he was at all in control of himself when the Starks died at his feet.

Tony laces his fingers with his and fixates on their joined hands. He says, ‘This has hung over everything between us. If we don’t face it now, we’ll have to in the future.’

Tony isn’t wrong. Whether they were at odds over an earpiece months ago or sharing takeout cross legged on Bucky’s couch, the weight of Howard and Maria Stark’s absence has been a kind of gravity - dragging Bucky down to earth every moment he dares to be happy. It’s this insurmountable wall that Bucky has honestly been too scared to climb, but now at least Tony wants to climb it together.

‘After this,’ Bucky begins, ‘we need to talk.’

Tony nods. ‘After this.’

Bucky puts on the glasses. Tony departs from the room, the door hisses after him and FRIDAY’s voice welcomes Bucky to B.A.R.F..

Wakanda greets him as it always does and Bucky scrolls through the thumbnails and memories that appear. He finds the one he’s looking for, meets Tony’s eyes through the hologram and taps in. The hut dissolves into a forest and a woman stands before another version of himself, the Soldier.

She whispers the string of activation words before melting into the trees. Bucky feels the pull of them but resists, paralysed to the spot as he watches Howard and Maria’s car headlights blare in the distance. Beside him, the Soldier throws his leg over a motorbike and waits amongst the trees for his chance to descend upon them.

He can see Tony through the glass, watching stonily as his parents hurtle towards them. This assassination is as clear as water to Bucky - he predicts beat for beat as the Soldier glides down the hill on his motorbike, slashes the tires of the champagne Mercedes and watches Howard lose control of the car. It crashes into a tree, completely wrecking it. The Soldier pulls the motorbike to a halt, throwing open the boot to inspect its contents.

From around the corner, he hears low, rasped begging, ‘Please. Help.’’

Every cell in Bucky’s body vibrates with fury and frustration. He knows exactly what’s going to happen next. The Soldier will round the car and Howard Stark will be there, crawling on the ground and begging for mercy. Bucky will raise his metal arm, smash his head twice until it caves in like an egg, and throw him lifelessly back into the car.

Bucky can’t move. He can’t do anything, but in one fleeting moment of desperation he manages to catch Tony’s eyes through the glass wall. Where Tony’s gaze once grounded him, there’s a lifelessness in their depths. Like staring down a hallway. This was a mistake, Bucky wants to scream at him. Please, don’t make me watch you go through this.

The Winter Soldier pulls Howard Stark up by the scruff of his silver hair. There’s a lightning bolt of recognition and Howard’s voice cuts through the cacophony in Bucky’s head like shattered glass.

‘Sergeant Barnes?’ Howard asks. Bucky hears Tony instead, the cadence of his low voice and the warmth in it.

As the Winter Soldier raises his arm to deliver the death blow, Bucky’s hand flashes out and a blue light passes over his eyes. He catches the arm just in time, the simulation strains weightlessly against Bucky’s metal hand.

The entire memory shudders to a halt. Gasping with the exertion of it and pushing through the pain blossoming in his head, he comes face to face with his hologram as he stands between himself and Howard Stark.

‘Stop,’ Bucky tells himself eventually, the plea slicing through him like wire.

The simulation hurtles into motion once again. Bucky releases the Winter Soldier’s arm and sees something change in his stare, the tiniest spark. The Soldier eventually, miraculously, goes off-script.

The Soldier releases Howard Stark.

B.A.R.F. cuts out suddenly and Bucky collapses to the floor, his body shaking with the effort it took to speak that one word. He presses his forehead to the cot, gasping for breath and barely registers when Tony enters the space.

‘Bucky,’ his voice is wet, ‘Bucky, Jesus Christ, are you okay?’

Bucky feels his cold hands on the back of his neck, the brush of Tony’s rough fingers as he slides the B.A.R.F. glasses off his face. He sags into him, his vision spotty, and Tony holds his face in both hands.

‘What happened?’ Bucky slurs.

The world stops spinning and Tony comes into crisp, clear view. There are floods of tears streaming down Tony’s face and Bucky knows with certainty: he loves this man. He loves this man.

‘You beat your programming,’ Tony tells him, his smile spreading like sunrise. ‘You let my parents live.’

Bucky puts his mechanical hand over his face. He weeps.

Chapter Text

Somewhere along the line, Bucky Barnes had wandered into Tony’s life like a stray dog and followed him all the way home. Tony can’t - won’t - remember a time the man didn’t live in the New Avengers Tower with him, filling the space with his swimming pool eyes and hard-earned gentleness. But if the evaluation currently taking place doesn’t go well, he’s starting to realise he’s going to have to go back to an empty tower.

Tony doesn’t think he can do that again.

He leans back suddenly in his chair and it makes a loud screeching noise, prompting the woman in the seat just metres away to glance at him. The UN put him in the grand general assembly hall to be watched over by a member of staff, like some unruly child. Bucky on the other hand had been taken somewhere Tony couldn’t follow for his evaluation.

‘Surely, he should be out by now? They said it would only take an hour,’ Tony asks the woman, a bright young thing, who stops typing on her laptop.

‘I’m afraid that was an estimation, Mr. Stark,’ she responds. ‘However, I can send someone for coffee or a sandwich if you would like.’

Tony’s spent too many full days at the UN, eating their stale cardboard sandwiches and instant coffee swill. He aches longingly for the Nespresso machine in the Tower, but he needs to be caffeinated for whatever comes next. He tells her, ‘Yeah, okay. No sugar or milk, just black, black, black coffee. If they’re making it from instant, tell them to put double the recommended amount in - I’ll know.’

‘And your sandwich?’ she asks.

‘I’d rather eat my armour than another sad UN sandwich. How do you do it?’ he asks her.

She pauses. Then says, ‘I bring food from home.’

‘Got any leftovers?’ he asks.

She hesitates, then pulls out a lunchbox from her leather designer bag. It’s filled with leftover pasta - most of it gone - but it looks delicious regardless. When the intern arrives moments later, Tony is stuffing his mouth, telling her real cream doesn’t belong in carbonara but her spag bol is off the charts. He demands to know her recipe, or at least wants her to give him her number so they can set up some kind of pasta-based delivery system.

‘Your coffee, Mr. Stark,’ the intern says nervously, placing the paper cup before him.

‘Thanks bud,’ Tony tells him, flashing a smile up at him.

‘Also, General Ross and Sergeant Barnes are ready for you in Conference Room 3,’ he continues.

Tony downs his coffee in one and is out the door before his babysitter can even register what just happened. He knows exactly where the conference room is. It’s where he and Bucky spent two long arduous weeks negotiating his surrender and the UN dissected the man’s life like a science experiment, regardless of the former assassin staring back at them like a raw wound. When he reaches the room, he knocks once and pushes open the door.

‘Ah, Tony. You’ve arrived,’ Ross says, gesturing to a chair opposite him. Tony ignores him and sits down right next to Bucky instead, who hasn’t looked at him since he walked in. His heart sinks. It must be bad news. It must-

Ross continues, ‘I’m sure you’ll be pleased to hear that Sergeant Barnes has passed his first evaluation.’

Tony is a circuit and Ross just flipped the switch. Sheer exhilaration, exhaustion and joy spread through him all at once. Bucky will be able to stay here in the sun. Whatever Bucky, Shuri and Tony have done is working.

‘But?’ Tony asks, noting Bucky’s sullen expression.

‘He barely passed it. And on those grounds, we’re delaying sending him into the field with the New Avengers,’ Ross responds.

And there it is. Tony is sad on Bucky’s behalf, but honestly - he gets it. He’s worked with Bucky a few times unofficially before through a headset, but Bucky’s only truly been on the ground with him once (that last time in Tulsa, where they sat on swings afterwards).

Now that Tony’s seen how the man breaks and how easily the Soldier has taken over in the past, he realises he’s been lucky. One wrong move or trigger and who knows what could have happened. No matter what goodness Tony is starting to see in Bucky, the man is still a loose cannon. But he won’t be forever.

‘How long we talking?’ Tony asks.

‘We’ll see how he does on his next evaluation, one month from now,’ Ross responds evasively.

Bucky speaks up for the first time and says, ‘Tony needs support, he can’t keep going out on his own.’

In the past, Tony would normally pipe up and shoot Bucky down. But he’s got a sore ankle, a body littered with bruises and two completely totaled Iron Man suits that beg to differ - and that’s just from the past month. He’s a proud man, but he’s not as proud as he once was.

‘Yeah, Vision is MIA and Colonel Rhodes is wrapped up with you guys most of the time,’ Tony says, gesturing to Ross’ military uniform.

‘Let me remind you Steve Rogers and his ragtag gang of criminals are strictly off limits,’ Ross states.

Bucky tenses, but Tony barrels through, ‘Hate the guy, can’t stand him. Wouldn’t put him on the team if he begged me. I’m saying give me the opportunity to enlist more supers and at least the authority to call in Sergeant Barnes in special circumstances. I’m basically the whole team here and I’m not even powered.’

‘Do you have anybody in mind then?’ he asks.

‘A few people,’ Tony responds. The room goes silent.

‘You going to enlighten me, Stark?’ Ross asks.

Tony responds, ‘Nope.’

Ross sighs and leans back in his chair. He mulls the two of them over then eventually says, ‘You get to add two more people to your little crew, but they obviously need to have signed the Accords. And the UN gets final approval.’

‘And Sergeant Barnes?’

‘Only in special circumstances,’ Ross states.

Success pulls at the corners of Tony’s mouth, but Ross stops him in his tracks.

The man adds, ‘And I get final say so on whether or not he goes into the field. Am I understood?’

‘One hundred percent. You’re the man, the law, etcetera etcetera,’ Tony says. ‘We done here now?’

Ross turns in his chair dramatically to the window, leaving Tony and Bucky facing the back of his chair. He says, ‘Get the hell out of here, Stark.’

‘Dreamy, I’m just going to take this supersoldier with me too if you don’t mind,’ Tony says, putting a hand on Bucky’s shoulder as he rises to his feet.

Bucky says nothing further and they exit the conference room together. Tony feels the eyes of politicians, members of the organization and that intern who brought him coffee earlier as the both of them exit. Tony smiles breezily at them, striking up idle chatter. Bucky vibrates at his side like an arrow straining to be loosed from its bow. Although Tony wants to bring up what just happened, he can’t with this many people around.

Once they reach the deserted car park, Tony turns to Bucky and throws his arms around the man. Bucky stiffens in surprise, then returns it gradually.

‘Wow. Just fucking wow, congratulations,’ Tony babbles, ‘I was worried there for a second, but you pulled it off.’

‘I can’t go out in the field with you though,’ Bucky responds.

Tony pulls away from him incredulously. ‘Are you serious? You just dodged the RAFT.’

‘I know, but-‘

‘Bucky, shut up. You are not going to ruin this for yourself,’ Tony tells him.

Bucky glances away in frustration. Tony grabs his face before he can, forces him to look at him and says, ‘No, don’t do that. Take this victory. You earned it.’

Eventually Bucky says, ‘You know I couldn’t have done this without you, right?’

Tony smiles wryly. ‘I’m just the tech guy.’

‘No. You’re not,’ Bucky tells him.

His blue eyes burn. Oh no, Tony thinks.

Bucky telegraphs his movements, giving Tony every opportunity to move away. He raises his real arm, slides the warm palm across Tony’s cheek and down over the back of his neck - dripping hot embers of sensation down his spine. Like everything Bucky does when he’s lucid, the man is so careful, as though whatever he touches will turn to rust. He glances at Tony in askance.

Tony has had enough of this. He says in frustration, ‘Aw hell’, grabs Bucky by the shoulders and bridges the oceanic millimeters between them. They kiss in the car park under the fluorescent lights and the indifferent yellow lines.

Tony breaks away first, but Bucky surprises him. He chases Tony’s mouth, pulls him flush against his body and threads a hand into Tony’s hair, fingers tangling in his locks. Bucky washes over him like high tide over a sandcastle.

They eventually stop for air and Tony’s kind of glad Bucky’s hanging onto him, as he stares up at the man light-headedly. Bucky’s eyes are twin tunnels of sky, searching Tony for a reaction.

Bucky asks, ‘You okay?’

‘You need to get in that car right now before I fuck you on the floor of this garage,’ Tony tells him in no uncertain terms.

Bucky’s hand tightens in Tony’s hair for a second, hard enough for it to bite. Tony sighs and lets his head roll back with it, swallowing as Bucky kisses the stretch of his neck. He goes nearly dizzy with desire and then Bucky murmurs against his hot skin, ‘Yeah, we should go somewhere more private.’

‘Back seat’ll do,’ Tony tells him, unlocking the car and pulling him in.

He thanks all the gods he knows that he had decided to drive Bucky himself to the UN, rather than ringing up Happy. Tony lies back against the leather seats as Bucky follows, shutting the door with a crack as he drinks the length of him in. Preening under his attention, Tony spreads his legs wide and runs a hand over the growing bulge in his suit trousers.

‘Fucking hell,’ Bucky murmurs, watching as Tony shows off for him - straining against the fabric.

‘I’m not handing out participation trophies, get involved,’ Tony tells him.

Bucky hums and dips his head down, running his rough hands over Tony’s muscled thighs. Tony arches for him and moans when Bucky eventually presses the heel of his hand against his cock, the pressure skittering dots across Tony’s vision. His hand eventually disappears and Tony glances down in confusion, only for his brain to short circuit when he watches Bucky part his wet lips to tongue a long, wet stripe across his dick through his trousers.

Tony grabs the back of Bucky’s head, pressing him deeper between his legs and Bucky groans hungrily against him. He mouths at Tony and his hand returns, following the curve of his length with desperate fingertips. Tony doesn’t remember the last time he was this hard and he throws his head against the door when Bucky sucks at the head of his cock, gasping as he hits the handle ferociously enough for his skull to rattle and his head blooms with pain.

Suddenly, Bucky stops and one of his hands slides over the growing lump in the back of Tony’s head - cushioning him protectively as Tony lies his head back against the car door. The smoulder is gone, replaced by concern, and Bucky asks him instantly, ‘Jesus, Tony, are you okay?’

‘I’m okay. I’m okay, keep doing what you were doing,’ Tony tells him, blinking dazedly but no less turned on.

It’s too late, Tony can already see the insecurity seeping into Bucky’s expression. Bucky begins, ‘Maybe we’re moving too fast, we should probably-’

Tony interrupts, ‘Bucky. You almost went into the supermax of supermax prisons.’

Bucky says, ‘I know.’

‘Great. I also want to make it clear that I refuse to drive with an erection,’ Tony tells him, trying to lighten the mood, ‘It's against the law, or something.’

It takes Bucky a moment, but then a small smile eventually wins out. ‘I guess I’d better do my civic duty.’

Bucky bends down, kissing Tony gratefully for dealing with the crisis. It’s too much emotion for Tony to handle, so he charges full speed ahead.

He slides his hand underneath the waistband of Bucky’s indecently tight boxer briefs. Bucky groans as Tony pulls the full length of him out and his heavy cock swings up, smearing precome against his pristine white oxford shirt - the one he wore especially to impress the UN. Tony gets on his knees between his thighs, Bucky’s legs parting for him easily. He pumps his hand over Bucky’s dusky pink length twice before he slides his mouth down over it and swallows.

Bucky full on moans, one hand lashing out to grip the door for support and the other snaking its fingers through Tony’s hair. Bucky nearly goes cross-eyed when he notices Tony unbuttoning his own trousers to jerk himself off, moaning as he chokes himself on Bucky’s cock.

Tony’s eyes flash up to Bucky, all dark and honeyed. This is actually happening, Bucky thinks wildly, and it’s happening so much faster than he thought it would. As Bucky stares back mesmerised, Tony takes him all the way to the hilt and he sees god damn stars. The hand tightens in Tony’s hair and he holds him there for a couple of seconds, resisting the urge to come there and then as the wet warmth engulfs him.

‘Tony,’ he finally manages in warning.

Eventually, Tony slides Bucky’s length out of his mouth and gasps for air as his hand reaches down to his own cock. Bucky glances down and sees the thatch of dark hair at its base, its weeping tip and burns to touch Tony - to bring him off the same way he’s playing with himself now. Tony’s hand is a frantic blur and the billionaire reaches up with his free hand to pinch one of his own nipples, rolling it between his fingertips.

‘Show me,’ Bucky says to him.

Tony has never been shy and he rises up, placing one knee on either side of Bucky and pinning him against the seat. He squeezes his eyes shut and presses his forehead against Bucky’s, little puffs of air escaping from his parted lips as he drives himself closer to the brink. He’s stunning like this - glistening, desperate, brazen - and Bucky wants to rewatch this moment in B.A.R.F. on a loop for the rest of his life.

Bucky reaches down to his own abandoned length. He groans against Tony’s mouth when he feels how slick it is with spit, his hand gliding gloriously over the skin as he squeezes experimentally. Tony kisses him desperately, his lips and tongue running over Bucky’s jaw, neck, whatever he can get, as his pleasure mounts.

‘I want you to come with me,’ Tony tells him, ‘I’m close. So close.’

‘Me too,’ Bucky admits, pulling him closer with his free hand. ‘Look at me, Tony.’

Tony’s eyes flash open and that’s it, game over. Tony arches into Bucky as he orgasms, his movements getting sloppier and sloppier as come trickles over his fingers, down over his wrist. Bucky is right there on the edge with him and just needs something to tip him over. He grabs at Tony’s wrist and runs his tongue over his wet fingers, moaning as the musky taste of the man’s come fills his mouth. Tony gently kisses the side of his head, and then suddenly every part of Bucky’s body is pure light. His vision goes for a second and he grips Tony for support as he comes, feeling like the earth has opened up beneath him.

When he returns to the real world, panting hard, Tony is sitting back on his heels on the car floor and assessing him with a thoughtful expression. His red mouth shines.

Bucky meets his eyes somewhat self-consciously, his chest heaving, then he glances down at himself. He’s completely wrecked the fancy trousers Shuri had sent for him, though his shirt’s escaped the worst of it.

Bucky doesn’t quite know what to say, overwhelmed by Tony’s silence. He asks inelegantly, ‘Do you have a tissue?’

Tony reaches over to the back pocket of the driver’s seat, pulling out a discreet pack of wet wipes. He opens it wordlessly and without being prompted by Bucky, begins to wipe him down.

Bucky huffs fondly, watching Tony slide the wipe over his spent cock and ruined trousers. ‘You don’t have to do that, you know.’

Tony says, ‘I mean, it was kind of my fault.’

His smirk is magnetic and Bucky stops Tony halfway through, leaning over to press a chaste kiss against his lips. Tony puts a hand on Bucky’s knee to ground himself and the silence of the garage thaws into something new.

When they eventually draw apart, Tony glances at the hand on Bucky’s knee and begins cackling. He holds up his hand, splattered with his own come, and Bucky sees where Tony has accidentally smeared semen across the dark fabric like a kid’s painting.

‘I think you’re going to have to burn these trousers,’ Tony tells him.

Bucky kisses him again. ‘I hate them anyway.’

The ride back passes relatively quietly, with the sound of some pop radio station in the background. The car steams with tension and as the minutes pass, Tony’s mouth goes dry as he remembers the way Bucky grabbed his hair and fell apart underneath him. At one point, Tony spends so long looking at Bucky that he doesn’t notice when the traffic lights change.

‘The light, Tony,’ Bucky tells him, the corner of his mouth curving upwards.

‘Shit,’ Tony blurts, returning his eyes to the road and driving.

‘Something on your mind?’ Bucky asks.

His low, easy drawl goes right to Tony’s groin and he can feel himself growing hard again. ‘I’m just can't believe I deflowered a national hero in the back of my car.’

‘Sorry to break your heart, but I slept around just as much as you used to during the war,’ Bucky tells him.

‘I didn’t think there’d be much time for that back then, what with all the Hitler punching,’ Tony comments, indicating and turning.

Bucky shifts, his knees parting slightly. Tony tries very hard not to look down to see where the man’s cock is beginning to harden, so instead he struggles to keep his eyes on the road.

Bucky tells him, ‘Well, there was always a brother in arms who needed a hand. After somebody walked in on Dugan splitting me open, we all had to have a talk about taking night watch seriously.’

Tony’s brain short-circuits with the mental image of Bucky spread out on a bedroll, holding himself wide open as a thick, heavy cock pushed slowly into him. He asks, ‘Dugan, as in Dum Dum Dugan? The massive guy with the moustache?’

‘That’s the one. Always had a thing for facial hair, I guess,’ Bucky says, glancing over at Tony and his iconic goatee.

'Lucky me,' Tony says, grinning back. 

A car beeps loudly, startling them both. The light has gone green again and Bucky snickers as Tony ushers the car into motion again, with the tiniest of smiles on his face.

The pair manage to somehow keep it together until they reach the lift in the Tower, then all bets are off. Bucky pulls Tony’s shirt over his head and instantly, Bucky is kissing the line of his shoulder, his nipples, running his tongue over the ridge where the arc reactor ends and his chest begins. Tony doesn’t even have time to feel shy about the reactor, as Bucky leaves hungry trails of heat over the scarred tissue before returning to Tony’s mouth.

The lift doors open on Bucky’s floor and they break apart, both staring at each other and uncertain of what happens next. Eventually, Bucky decides for them and steps over the threshold - glancing back at Tony who looks so small all of a sudden, standing by himself in a corner of the lift. In spite of everything they've already done in the past hour, this still feels like another huge step.

'Wanna come in?' Bucky asks him, hoping Tony doesn't hear his heart slamming against his chest.

Tony is already out of the lift and running towards the bed before he's finished asking, ripping off his shirt as he goes.

When Bucky wakes the next morning, he is alone. Tony is nowhere to be seen, his side of the bed crumpled and bare, and Bucky feels doubt creep in. He rises to his feet, leaving the sheets behind as he stands on his empty floor - trying to find evidence that Tony had been there at all.

He pulls on his clothes and tries not to panic. He asks FRIDAY, ‘Friday? Is Tony in the Tower?’

‘I’m afraid he is not, Sergeant Barnes. He was called away on urgent New Avengers business,’ she explains.

‘When will he be back?’ he asks.

She responds, ‘Given the sensitive nature of the mission, I am not at liberty to say.’

‘Did Tony...say anything? Leave a message or whatever?” he asks her again.

‘He did not leave one with me, no. But boss did leave something on your kitchen counter before he left,’ Friday informs him.

Bucky catches sight of a scrap piece of paper by the sink. He actually laughs out loud when he realises that Tony’s drawn an artistic rendering of his own penis, complete with the mole near his tip. Scrawled underneath it are the words, ‘Something to remember me by.’

‘Idiot,’ Bucky mumbles fondly.

‘I believe it would be prudent of me to alert you that Princess Shuri of Wakanda will be returning later today to the Tower,’ Friday tells him.

Bucky’s head cracks upwards in shock. Then immediately, the guilt and anxiety begin to take hold of him. He remembers the way he grabbed her by the neck, smashed her through a coffee table and crushed her hand in his own until he could hear the bones grinding to dust. Then he remembers how she would brush the hair out of his eyes, her eternal patience through every difficult simulation and the way she cried when the UN released him into Tony’s custody.

He isn’t ready to see her. Especially not without Tony.

‘She did leave a message for you, however,’ Friday cuts through his spiral.

‘She did? Bucky asks in surprise.

‘Yes. She said to tell you,’ Friday begins, then suddenly plays a recording of Shuri’s voice, ‘Do not try and hide away from me, Bucky. I am coming back and we are having a conversation.’

‘Christ,’ Bucky mutters under his breath. He sometimes resents the fact she knows him so well.

‘Might I suggest getting dressed before she arrives? And, perhaps, disposing of the boss' masterpiece,’ Friday says.

Bucky looks down at his bare feet. He hears Sam’s voice in the back of his head, telling him in therapy quietly: start with the things you can control. Bucky turns around and takes in the state of his messy floor, strewn with clothes and the chaos last night brought.

‘Can you tell me when Shuri’s near? I’m going to take a shower,’ Bucky asks Friday.

‘Very well, Sergeant Barnes,’ Friday responds.

Bucky slides into the shower and goes through the motions, turning his metal arm away from the water and running shampoo through his hair. As he soaps himself, his hands wander down to his soft length and he hums slightly as he brushes his fingers over it. Unbidden, thoughts of Tony spread out beneath him leap to the forefront of his mind and he feels himself swell with arousal. He still can’t quite believe what happened happened. Between Tony and Shuri coming back, he feels like his world has been upended all over again.

He comes with Tony’s name on his lips, thinking of the man’s dark eyes and the way his mouth looked wrapped around his cock. Bucky moans through the wave of pleasure, pressing his back against the wall for support as pearly come trickles over his fingers. Afterwards, he pants and stares up at the ceiling - trying not to think of Tony again in fear that he'll never leave the shower.

His sex drive has basically been non-existent for the past few years or so, but it feels like Tony Stark thrown a match on a pile of kindling. Bucky remembers how he was before the Soldier, relentlessly pleasure seeking where he could get it. Then Hydra burned that part of him out with drugs and electricity, then post-Soldier, his depression had killed any desire in him.

‘Princess Shuri’s plane has just landed at JFK Airport. She is en route,’ Friday informs him suddenly, cutting through Bucky’s afterglow.

Bucky turns his head into the water and well, that’s ruined any urge he had for round two. He stands there for another ten minutes, trying to work up the nerve to leave the warm shower, before he finally slams the tap shut and steps out.

He cleans the floor, throwing suspect used tissues in the bin and stripping his bedsheets. In a haze, he remakes his bed on autopilot - military corners, the sheets pulled tight (a holdover from his Commando days). Bucky runs through every scenario in his head and can’t envision himself saying anything to make what happened right. He wonders how Shuri’s arm has healed, if it has at all. Halfway through Bucky loading the dishwasher, Friday interrupts his thoughts.

‘Princess Shuri of Wakanda is ten minutes away from the Tower. She has requested access to your floor upon arrival,’ FRIDAY informs him.

Bucky puts his hands on the counter, his heart rate skyrocketing. The things you can control, he hears Sam’s voice like a bell. And then the things you can’t.

‘Tell her she can come up after she gets settled in,’ Bucky says.

FRIDAY pauses. Then she continues, ‘Request has been granted to Princess Shuri of Wakanda.’

Bucky doesn’t quite know what to do with himself, so he puts on the kettle and makes a huge teapot of rooibos from the box she left behind. As the tea steeps, he puts out two mugs by the couch and arranges it all. The shine of his metal hand as it catches the light makes him ill and he wishes he could rip it off, hide it from Shuri before she approaches.

FRIDAY informs him Shuri has arrived and Bucky hears the lift whirr in the shaft, shooting all the way up to his floor. He pulls out a sweatshirt and slides it over his head despite it being perfectly toasty in the Tower, trying to disguise as much of his metal arm as he can.

The lift doors open as he’s carrying the teapot to the coffee table and he whirls around. Shuri steps into his space, looking better than he’s ever seen her. Her hand - the one he crushed - is whole.

For a moment, neither of them say anything. Then Shuri says, ‘Don’t look at me like that, you bear.’

She clears the floor in a few seconds and gives Bucky a long hug, rising up on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. It’s slightly awkward with the teapot squished between them, but it feels like a homecoming.

‘Are you okay?’ He asks her, his eyes burning.

‘Give me that,’ she tells him, taking the teapot. She leads the way to the couch, sinking down on the plush cushions and placing the teapot on the table.

Then, she holds her arm out to him for inspection. He stares at it.

‘Go on,’ she tells him. ‘Take a look. Let us get this out of the way.’

‘Shuri,’ he starts, feeling his stomach jump to his throat, ‘I can’t.’

‘You absolutely can,’ she insists.

Bucky feels ill looking at her slim, unbroken wrist and manicured slender fingers. In a flash, he sees the white of her bone poking out at right angles and the blood obscuring her dark skin.

‘Shuri,’ he says again, unable to say anything else.

She sees that she’s pushed him too far and instantly understands. For a moment neither of them say anything, then she quietly lowers her hand.

‘I wanted to call you so many times,’ Bucky tells her. ‘But I didn’t know what to say. How to apologize-‘

‘I know. I know, that’s why I tried to give you space,’ she tells him.

Through the lump in his throat, Bucky tells her, ‘You have been one of the most important people in my life since waking up. And the thought that I had hurt you - again…’

‘You will not get rid of me that easily, Sergeant Barnes. I am in this for the long haul,’ she states with certainty.

Bucky stares at his metal arm, the grooves and joints built by the very hand he shattered in an instant. He clenches it and says, ‘I still don’t understand why you put so much faith in me.’

Shuri sighs. Bucky hears her heart rate climb, the fear and adrenaline pumping through her blood, and yet she presses on. She laces her reconstructed fingers through his metal ones. The sight of her chestnut skin against the unforgiving dark vibranium burns into his memory, a little but no less magnificent reunion.

‘You are a bad man trying to become a good one, Bucky. I believe that is a worthy cause,’ she tells him.

Bucky swallows. ‘Yeah.’

‘And I love you like a brother, which is more than I should,’ she admits.

A small smile spreads across Bucky’s face, unbidden. ‘I feel the same way.’

With her free hand, Shuri pours a cup of tea and sips from it. Instantly, she pulls a face.

‘I also appreciate the sentiment, but I will be making the tea from now on,’ she declares.

Bucky doesn’t quite laugh, but he almost does. He tells her, ‘Deal.’

The next ten minutes are awkward as they find the footholds where their relationship used to be. Eventually they find a comfortable ground and Bucky’s anxiety settles, even if his guilt doesn’t.

Somehow, Shuri manages to talk him into letting her inspect his arm. She turns it over, rotating his wrist and inspecting the port where it plugs right into his body.

‘Was there a reason why you and Stark didn’t finish turning it on?’ she asks.

Bucky stares blankly at her. ‘What do you mean?’

‘The arm,’ she says impatiently. ‘It’s not fully on.’

‘...what do you mean?’ Bucky says again

She waves her hand at the arm. ‘I do not know how to express this more clearly to you. I think it would be best if I just turned it-’

She reached out to adjust something, but Bucky quickly catches her hands quickly. He says, ‘Okay, wait, that’s how we got into this mess last time. Let’s wait for Tony and take safety precautions before doing anything.’

‘Ah. Yes. That might be wise,’ she says, withdrawing.

‘What is it meant to do?’ Bucky asks curiously. ‘When it’s on, I mean.’

Shuri picks up the teapot, heads over to the sink and begins adding water to it to dilute the tea. As she does so, she explains, ‘When I designed your prosthetic, my priority was not to create a weapon like your old Winter Soldier one. My priority was to give you something that felt like a regular human arm to help you leave that life behind.’

‘This arm is already worlds away from the old one. The old one was heavy and slow,’ Bucky tells her.

She sits beside him and pours him a cup of tea. ‘And painful.’

He never really was able to hide anything from her. ‘And painful.’

‘We will wait for Stark to return from his mission. And then we will finish the installation,’ she says, sipping from her new cup of tea.

Later that night, Tony doesn’t come home to the Tower. Instead, Shuri and Bucky watch in horror as the man glides through a blaze in California started by an Inhuman, who the military are battling. Tony instead focuses on pulling civilian after civilian out of the fire and as the torrent eats away at a hospital, they watch as he spirals in to save a couple of firemen and ICU patients trapped in a column of red.

Even just from the distant cameras, Bucky can tell Tony is lagging with exhaustion. His flying is sloppy, he clips his shoulder on a pillar on his way out. Bucky knows the suits have cooling fans within them (Tony had explained them to him once), but he must be cooking in his metal armour. And yet, he charges on.

Tony flies them out as fast as he can while the firefighters on the ground deal with the flames. As he goes back in for the final couple of people, a loud cry goes out and half of the hospital collapses. He doesn’t come out.

Shuri is on phone calls with General Ross and the rest of the UN that evening. She takes them on Bucky's balcony in the sunshine, her tablet out and her forehead resting on her hand as she pores over reports. Bucky hears what she says in snatches, listening out for even the slightest fragment of news about Tony. Instead, he overhears things he wishes he hadn’t.

‘We don’t know if he’s dead yet,’ Shuri insists to Ross, ‘Finding somebody else to lead the New Avengers is still premature.’

She pauses. Bucky watches the television screen, where they’re still playing footage of the wildfire as it continues tearing through the west coast. The ticker at the bottom of the screen reads, ‘TONY STARK, 38, IN CRITICAL CONDITION FOLLOWING HOSPITAL COLLAPSE’.

‘I know that, General. But in that event, it was agreed that Sergeant Barnes’ supervision would then fall to me,’ she responds.

She’s talking about what the UN will do with him if Tony dies, Bucky realises. He can’t sit here and listen to this conversation. Instead, he grabs his cigarette pack, lighter and his mug of tea and asks FRIDAY to let him up to Tony’s penthouse. Miraculously, the A.I. does.

The lift doors open and a rush of Tony’s scent greets him. The entire floor is dead quiet and the lights, activated by FRIDAY, flicker to life. Bucky throws on the TV and puts on a news channel, then heads to the gigantic glass doors towards the back of the space that lead out to the landing platform. He throws them open and walks towards the edge of the platform, watching as New York unravels beneath him like a map. Within a metre of him reaching the edge, there’s a shrill beep and a gigantic glass wall slides up through the ground and prevents Bucky from going any further.

‘Sergeant Barnes, I would like to advise you to step away from the edge,’ FRIDAY says.

‘’M just here for a smoke, FRIDAY. I’m not going to jump, if that’s what you’re worried about,’ Bucky tells her, lighting up a cigarette and eyeing up the wall.

‘I cannot let you any further, Sergeant Barnes. It is my primary protocol to protect and aid all individuals residing in the Tower,’ she tells him firmly.

Bucky touches the wall with one hand, taking a long drag from his cigarette. The cherry on it burns bright in the oncoming darkness. He remembers seeing the therapy pamphlets on Tony’s side table, the exhaustion and loneliness that always returns to the man’s eyes.

‘Has anybody ever tried to jump before?’ Bucky asks, his throat thick.

‘No. But the wall was deemed a necessary safeguard,’ FRIDAY informs him, though there’s something in the A.I.’s voice that almost sounds sad.

Bucky can’t stand the thought of Tony building himself walls at the edge of the platform, just in case. The noise of the television carries to him with an anchorwoman saying, ‘-just tuning in, the fires in California have continued to rage on. 14 are dead, several firemen wounded and New Avengers leader Tony Stark remains in critical condition-’

‘I’m going to sit further back and just smoke here, if that’s okay. Could you lower the wall? I just want to see Tony coming if decides to fly back,’ Bucky asks.

FRIDAY pauses. Then she states, ‘Please walk back to the indicated line.’

The little plastic phone Tony gave him rings later that night. Shuri has since fallen asleep on his floor, taking a nap on top of his covers with her tablet clutched in her hand as they both await news about Iron Man. Bucky picks up the phone and his packet of cigarettes, slipping out onto the balcony for the last call he wants to take right now.

‘Buck, are you alright? We saw the news,’ Steve’s voice comes through on the other end.

Bucky lights his cigarette, pressing it between his lips. He responds, ‘I’m safe and sound. I can’t leave the Tower.’

He takes a drag deeply, feeling the nicotine crawl through his system, before letting a steady jet of smoke back out. Bucky focuses on that rush and tries not to let his anger get the better of him right now. It’s been so long since he last spoke with Steve, he reminds himself.

‘Yeah, I know. I just thought you might be shaken up after - you know - what happened today,’ Steve tells him in a measured voice.

Bucky knows Steve is the kind of man to throw himself on top of grenades, lead the charge into hostile territory and question authority without thinking twice. He also knows that in his personal life that Steve avoids his problems until they eclipse him. Getting the man to admit his judgment is wrong is a herculean task - mostly because he’s correct nine times out of ten.

‘Bullshit, Steve. You called because you wanted to know how Tony was doing, but you’re too chickenshit to ask.’

All Steve can manage in response is a small, injured voice is, ‘Buck, Jesus.’

‘Am I wrong?’ Bucky asks.

Steve doesn't respond.

‘He’s in ICU. Ross isn’t telling us anything, but it doesn’t look good,’ Bucky tells him, feeling the adrenaline prick at his skin.

‘We saw the hospital come down on him,’ Steve says.

Bucky doesn’t know if he wants to cry or scream. The rage curls in his chest. But Bucky has spent too long making himself small, gentle, for the rest of the world. He can’t waste that blowing up at Steve now.

‘I know,’ Bucky tells him. ‘You should have been there.’

‘Buck, you know it’s not that easy.’

‘When you showed me that letter for Tony,’ Bucky says, his throat thick, ‘you said you would be there if he needed you.’

‘I know, and I’ve wanted to be. But he’s never asked,’ Steve says.

Bucky laughs at that, bitterly. ‘Of course he hasn’t. We beat him within an inch of his life and I killed his parents.’

Steve begins disapprovingly, ‘Buck-‘

’He isn’t going to ask for help from you, but he needs it,’ Bucky tells him. ‘I know you keep tabs on him and you must have known he was helping with the evacuation effort, but you chose to stay out of it. But you made the wrong call and nothing’s going to change that.’

Steve is dead silent. Then finally, he says, ‘We might not be seeing eye to eye at the minute, but I’ve never wanted anything bad to happen to Tony.’

‘I’m staying here with him, Steve,’ Bucky tells him simply.

Steve doesn’t judge, but he says cautiously, ‘I hope you know what you’re doing, Buck.’

‘I never do,’ Bucky says.

‘The second things don’t feel right, you can always come back,’ Steve says. ‘Even if we’re on different sides, I'll always be here for you.’

‘We’re on the same side, Steve,’ Bucky tells him, feeling tired. ‘I miss you. Everything’s upside down without you.’

‘Same here,’ Steve admits.

The olive branch is enough for Bucky. He finishes, ‘I’ll ring you tomorrow.’

‘Yeah, please.’

Through the window, he sees Shuri’s phone go off. She pauses, then presses the heel of her hand against her eye. She breathes in deeply before raising her head, meeting Bucky’s eyes through the glass and nodding.

‘Gotta go,’ Bucky says.

Steve tells him, ‘Even though I don’t totally get what you’re doing and it worries me to death, I am proud of you. I want you to know that.’

Bucky hangs up and walks back into the lounge, where Shuri is talking in hushed tones on the phone.

She glances over at him and mouths, Tony is okay.

Tony returns to the Tower with new scars, his healing expedited by Wakandan tech. His left arm is broken however and he talks in a reedy whisper, since his vocal cords were completely fried after the smoke ruined his throat.

Happy walks Tony into the Tower and they head for Tony’s floor first. Even just getting to his bed is a nightmare, his body is one long scream of pain and exhaustion. Happy lingers, pouring him a massive jug of water and laying out a cup on his bedside, putting out a sleep shirt and trousers on the edge of his bed. He won’t even let Tony make coffee.

‘I’ll do that,’ Happy says immediately, jumping to his feet.

‘Happy,’ Tony says impatiently, ‘I’m perfectly capable of making coffee.’

‘I know. But I just want to,’ Happy says belligerently.

‘Okay, fine. But then after that, you need to go - your shift should have ended ages ago,’ Tony insists.

‘It’s no problem-‘

‘Ages. Ago,’ Tony grinds out.

Happy hesitates, then nods. He still waits till every last drop is drained and cleans his own mug, then refills Tony’s. After he tries to make a fresh pot, Tony has to practically chase him out before he’ll go home.

‘If you need anything Mr Stark,’ Happy starts.

‘I know. Thank you, Happy. I do appreciate it,’ Tony tells him, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

Happy looks at his hand and swallows. He says then, ‘Look after yourself, boss.’

‘Yeah, I will,’ Tony lies. ‘You too.’

Happy finally leaves and Tony waits a few moments before picking up the pajamas the man laid out. It’s hard pulling on his cashmere tracksuit pants and charity shirt with just one arm, but he manages it anyway - wondering how the hell Bucky managed it before Shuri’s replacement. He pulls the shirt on finally after a minor battle and sighs when he realises it’s on the other way round, but leaves it as it is.

He looks around at his floor and feels the silence pressing in on him.

He then makes a beeline for the lift and heads immediately to Bucky’s floor. The doors slide open and he sees Shuri and Bucky’s faces light up immediately at the sight of him, but Tony simply holds his free hand up before they can get too babbly.

‘Hello, it’s nice to see you both, I’m doing okay, yadda yadda. I’m so tired right now and I’m just going to sleep here now if you don’t mind,’ Tony says, striding over to them.

He kisses Shuri on the cheek and says, ‘I’m glad you’re back and you’re fine.’

He kisses Bucky on the mouth and says, ‘You smell good and don’t do that guilty thing.’

Tony doesn’t turn to take in Shuri’s reaction, but he knows her eyes are probably boggling out of her head. Even Bucky seems a little shell shocked and just says, ‘Uh, yeah. Sure.’

Tony curls up underneath Bucky’s crisp white duvet, arranging his broken arm over the sheets carefully before shutting his eyes. Tony has never been good at being on his own and he slips easily into sleep, listening to the sounds of Shuri and Bucky murmuring quietly over him.

When he wakes in the middle of the night, he opens his eyes to the sight of Bucky sleeping beside him. The man is completely passed out, his eyelashes fluttering as he rests, and Tony makes out the slant of his cheekbone and cut of his jaw in the darkness. Something finds a place deep in the recesses of his chest, massaging the tension out of his body.

He remembers the last person he shared a bed with: Pepper’s strawberry blonde hair and soft curves skim the surface of his mind. While waking to Pepper always felt like a homecoming, sleeping beside Bucky is different. Gentle. Quiet. Bucky and Pepper are so completely opposite from one another and yet, Tony is not the man he once was when he was dating Pepper. The world wouldn’t let him - any of them - stay the same.

Tony allows himself to fall asleep again, lulled by the sound of Bucky breathing.

——

The next morning, Tony’s entire body is one long scream of pain. He groans as he drifts into alertness, trying not to jostle his arm as he adjusts himself in Bucky’s bed. There’s a brief moment of silence, then he feels the bed shift as Bucky wakes and turns to him.

‘Sorry, did I wake you up? Go back to sleep,’ Tony tells him, attempting to sit up.

Bucky grunts and instead snakes an arm around Tony’s torso, pulling him lightly back into bed. He kisses his shoulder and says, ‘No, you go back to sleep.’

‘Your argument could use a little work,’ Tony says, running his free hand across Bucky’s metal limb.

‘Your argument could use a little work,’ Bucky mumbles in retaliation.

Tony can’t help but snicker in response, feeling the telltale prickle of heat build in his stomach as Bucky presses up against his back. The supersoldier feigns sleep as he lets his hands roam, caressing Tony’s bare thighs and stomach. Tony hums and presses back, drowning in the sensation as he feels Bucky begin to harden against him.

Bucky inhales sharply and mouths at his neck, grinding his hips against Tony’s in response.

Tony stops abruptly and says cheekily, ‘Yeah, you’re right. We should probably go back to sleep.’

‘You little shit,’ Bucky mutters, tracing his tongue along the shell of Tony’s ear.

It’s a move that is practically Tony’s kryptonite. Bucky slides his hand down into Tony’s boxers and swallows Tony’s moans as his fingers brush the head of his cock. Tony shifts and then swears, jostling his injured arm on accident.

‘Crap, did I hurt you?’ Bucky asks.

‘No, I hurt me and I’m probably going to do it again,’ Tony says, adjusting his arm.

Bucky pulls away from Tony, leaving a gust of cool air where his warm body used to be. Tony groans in protest, but then quickly gets over it as Bucky pushes him gently onto his back and pulls down his boxers for him. Tony lifts his hips and his hard length springs upward, the dark head already leaking.

Distracted, Tony suddenly hisses with surprise as Bucky’s cold metal hand inches up his inner thigh and eventually skims his balls - setting off icy sparks of electricity in his nervous system. Bucky pulls back, then has Tony seeing god as he slides his mouth down his dick.

Tony gasps and looks down, catching Bucky’s swimming pool eyes. The sight of one of the world’s most powerful men #worshipping his cock is honestly doing a hell of a lot for Tony’s libido.

It doesn’t take long before Tony feels the telltale spiral of pleasure in stomach, pulling tight as a knot as he throws his head back against the pillow. He moans as Bucky’s mouth relentlessly drives him to new heights, arching as Bucky presses a slick finger against his entrance.

Tony comes hard, his vision whiting out as he grips the bedsheets in his good hand. When he returns to earth, Bucky is peppering kisses over his inner thighs.

Tony glances down blearily and says, ‘’kay?’

Bucky laughs, licks a torturous stripe up Tony’s softening cock which makes him shudder, and then rises up to kiss Tony on the cheek. ‘I feel like I should be asking you that. How's the arm?’

‘I’m okay. Now get your pants off,’ he tells him, sitting up.

‘Maybe later. You should rest,’ Bucky says, running an appreciative hand over Tony’s body.

He can still feel Bucky’s hard length like a pillar against him. ‘Are you crazy? After that, I’m definitely getting you off.’

‘Later. I don’t want you to hurt yourself,’ Bucky tells him, ‘You must be real sore.’

He isn’t wrong and secretly, Tony is relieved Bucky doesn’t want to do anything else. He sighs and tilts his head up, kissing the man deeply and tasting himself on his tongue. The kiss stretches out for ages, a soft, quiet thing punctuated by the stroke of Bucky’s hands across his skin.

As Tony drifts off to sleep, Tony mumbles, ‘I’ll get you back later.’

Bucky’s lips ghost over his temple. ‘I know you will.’

With Tony (and by proxy the New Avengers) out of commission for a little while, Tony does what he can do. He finally starts building up the team. As his eventual partner in crime and person whose judgement he trusts more than he should, he asks Bucky to help with the selection process over breakfast.

‘You’re serious? I thought I could only help in emergencies,’ Bucky points out.

Tony steals a scrap of scrambled egg from Bucky’s plate. ‘This is an emergency, I’m renowned for my bad judgment.’

Bucky lets Tony take his food. ‘I guess you did let me into your Tower.’

‘Eventually,’ Tony agrees. ‘Now, will you help me or not?’

Bucky gives in. Eventually. He and Tony pore over a list of faces and names in the kitchen, each spread over a gigantic holoscreen like pieces of a puzzle. As they go through them together, Tony begins sifting through the candidates faster than Bucky can follow and chucking them into the no pile. He catches some of the names in snatches, seeing the words ROGERS, then WILSON, then understands exactly why Tony’s striking them off the list.

‘Right, so there’s only a couple hundred names left to choose from. This should be a breeze,’ Tony announces, putting a hand on his hip as he drinks his coffee.

Bucky points at a couple which have different backgrounds, saying, ‘What do the colours mean?’

‘Give him the spiel, FRIDAY,’ Tony asks, staring up at the ceiling.

‘The individuals listed on a white background are those who have signed the Accords. Those on grey are those who have yet to sign the Accords, but have been known to use their abilities for good. And those on red are those who are considered a danger to society,’ FRIDAY informs them.

‘Alright, go ahead and scrub everybody from the red pile please. And those without combat powers while you’re at it too,’ Tony tells her. The list drops by half.

Bucky casts his mind back to the snatch of Steve’s profile he had noticed earlier. Red. He hears the crunch and crash of Steve’s shield, smashing into Tony’s glowing heart.

‘What do you think, then? Prioritize those with close range capabilities?’ Tony asks Bucky, sitting down on the back of the couch.

Bucky nods, eyes roving over the faces. ‘Can we keep just the close to mid-range supers?’

‘Certainly, Sergeant Barnes,’ FRIDAY says, and another third disappears.

‘Have you come across many of these people before?’ Bucky asks, turning to sit down beside Tony as the faces swim before them.

Tony nods. ‘Mostly the guys who operate in the same space as us. So I’ve seen Daredevil, Power Man and the Punisher around, but as far as allegiances go they’re all in the morally grey pile. The Punisher should really be in the red pile, that fucker shot at me once.’

Bucky recognizes a lot of faces and frowns. ‘Some of these have been classified wrong. I worked with a few of them back when I was the Soldier.’

Tony glances over at him. ‘No shit?’

‘No shit. Let me have a minute with this,’ he says, reaching out to make swift work of the pile.

It doesn’t take long and soon Bucky’s taken a huge chunk of names off the list, watching as the colours change to red as he passes his hands over them. They go into a separate floating column and Tony stares at it, flummoxed.

‘All of them?’ He asks in disbelief.

Bucky nodded grimly. ‘Yeah.’

‘Shit, okay, we should probably set up a meeting with Everett to share all this intel on red flags,’ Tony says, looking exhausted as he passes a hand over his face.

Bucky braves running a hand through Tony’s hair. The man sighs into the touch and pulls his hand away from his mouth, his dark eyes simmering.

Bucky tells him, ‘Let’s figure this out first.’

They stare up at the list of people before them. Where there were once hundreds, they’ve whittled them down to about sixty.

‘Any favourites?’ Tony asks.

‘Quake?’ Bucky says, pointing at an Asian girl.

‘She’s SHIELD’s, plus she’s already been a bit of a a PR nightmare since she leveled a city or two. Given that you and me aren’t the greatest reps for the New Avengers, we probably need somebody else cleaner if we want to win back the public,’ Tony explains.

Quake goes into the no pile. Tony pulls up another face and says, ‘Danny Rand? He’s the Iron Fist.’

‘Not to be a dick here, but having another white billionaire on the team might not be a great move if we’re thinking about public perception,’ Bucky points out.

‘Especially a white guy with Asian superpowers. Ugh, yeah, PR nightmare,’ Tony says.

They go back and forth for a little while like this, sliding the likes of Jessica Jones into the yes pile (’the RAFT killed her mum indirectly, not sure if she’d be down’), Daredevil into the not now pile (‘the Evangelicals aren’t ready for him’) and Deadpool into the ‘how the hell did you even get into this pile’ pile.

As they debate the merits of having someone who sets off explosion with his hands on the team, Shuri wanders onto their floor. She makes a steaming pot of tea and takes it back to curl up in her armchair.

She sips on it, watching the two of them go back and forth, then says in the lull of a silence: ‘Why aren’t I on the list?’

Bucky and Tony turn to look at her. Then Bucky looks askingly at Tony, throwing him well and truly under the bus.

‘I didn’t realise you could fight. I thought you just did the tech and politics thing,’ Tony says.

She raises an eyebrow. ‘I am literally descended from a line of Black Panthers.’

Tony points at Bucky and declares, ‘He never said you could fight either!’

‘Hey, I thought you’d already taken her into consideration,’ Bucky argues.

‘Yeah but FRIDAY’s been collating the info for me automatically from Accords data, news and police reports of supers and Shuri-‘

‘If I might interject, my directives were coded by Mr Stark,’ FRIDAY interrupts politely.

‘Et tu, Brutus?’ Tony sighs.

‘Then it’s decided. I will be joining your little tribe,’ she announces.

‘Wait, wait. The Accords,’ Tony says.

‘The UN oversees the Accords. I am Wakanda’s UN ambassador and sit on the Accords committee. I do not understand what point you are trying to make,’ she states.

Tony puts his head in his hands. ‘Okay, but I haven’t even seen you fight.’

‘My brother and I regularly spar at home, I believe he was up to your-‘ she eyes Iron Fist’s profile, ‘-exacting standards?’

Tony tries again, ‘Bucky and I were going to run all potential candidates through a combat assessment downstairs.’

‘We can go to the training room in a moment, I have my vibranium claws with me,’ she says.

‘We need to talk to Ross and the UN,’ Tony says.

‘I can call a meeting as soon as we are done here,’ she continues.

‘And we need to figure out a way to break the news to your brother without him straight up murdering me,’ Tony finishes.

She sniffs disapprovingly. ‘My brother has never presumed to dictate the course of my life. Your sexism disappoints me.’

Tony looks at Bucky helplessly, who tells him, 'She's really good. Got this flying vibranium suit and everything.'

'If anyone asks, pretend I ever had a choice in the matter. Welcome to the team, Shuri,' Tony tells her. 

Shuri nods regally, though Tony knows her well enough now to see she's suppressing her joy. If she cracks into a massive grin as he turns away and F.R.I.D.A.Y. maybe runs a security recording of Shuri dancing triumphantly in the lift afterwards, he'll never tell. 

A couple of days later, Shuri is wheeled into a press conference where Tony introduces her as the newest addition to the team. For the first time in a while, Bucky is allowed out of the house to go somewhere other than the UN and is pressed into a dress shirt and slacks. He stands awkwardly at the back by the step and repeat board, squinting as the cameras flash and eat up Tony standing at the podium as he gestures to Shuri. Even though Bucky had been reluctant to leave the Tower, Tony had convinced him it would be good optics for the team if they showed the world how well he was doing.

It seems like a lifetime ago that Bucky had been around other people and to be in this room, surrounded by hundreds of people and journalists and photographers, is unnerving. He keeps his eyes on Tony who is completely in his element, drinking in the attention as he cracks jokes and smiles devastatingly at the front row. As he turns to wave Shuri forwards, he catches Bucky’s eye and winks. Heat flutters through Bucky and he tries to steel his expression, terrified he’ll blush on live television.

‘And so, without further ado, I’m going to shut up and let Princess Shuri talk,’ Tony says without missing a beat.

Shuri gets up and, like Tony, transforms into this unstoppable PR machine the moment she gets to the microphone. Tony returns to the back where Bucky stand side by side, watching her wax lyrical about the international community and the importance of people coming together.

‘She talks almost as prettily as you do,’ Bucky murmurs to Tony.

Tony flashes him a quick look. ‘Sergeant Barnes, are you trying to flirt with me at a press conference?’

‘I’m not not trying to flirt with you in a press conference-’

‘-in the years to come,’ Shuri finishes, glancing at Tony to signal the end of her speech.

Instead of responding to Bucky, Tony puts on his work smile and steps up to the podium. Shuri steps down to a smattering of applause and Tony takes his place at the microphone again, saying, ‘With that, we're opening up the floor to relevant questions. And I said relevant, so if the journalist from The Sun can control themselves then they may get an invitation to my next orgy.’

Almost every hand in the room goes up and Bucky watches with a degree of pride as Tony plays ball, charming the room as he ducks and weaves under more difficult questions.

He does just fine, then the correspondent from CNN asks, ‘When will the Winter Soldier be cleared for active duty with the New Avengers?’

An edge enters Tony's voice as he corrects her, ‘Sergeant Barnes is currently undergoing intensive rehabilitation, though I am confident he will join our ranks soon.’

‘And just one follow up question,’ she says swiftly before Tony has a chance to move on, ‘how does Sergeant Barnes feel about the exile of his friend Steve Rogers?’

Something comes over Tony then, a weird muscle lock. Bucky sees it settle in and a moment passes, then two, then Bucky realises Tony's on the verge of a panic attack. He can hear the man's breathing shortening, his heart pounding.

Something else comes over Bucky. He swoops up to the front of the stage, claps a firm hand on Tony's shoulder and says into the microphone, ‘Pretty pissed off, the guy owes me twenty bucks.’

A surprised bout of laughter breaks out in the room and the noise stirs something in Tony, who shakes himself back to normal. The moment he finishes, a sea of hands go up once the room realises Bucky's answering questions. Tony cuts in shakily, ‘That's all from us folks and Bucky - that is, Sergeant Barnes - won't be taking any further questions at this time. Anything else can be addressed to our press officer in the corner there.’

Once they retreat to the conference space that's currently serving as their shoddy green room, Tony sinks into a chair and stares at a light. Shuri swans off to a mirror to fix her lipstick and Bucky presses a bottle of complimentary water into Tony's hand.

“Thanks. And for earlier,’ Tony says, wiping his brow. ‘Do you think anyone noticed?’

‘No. I could hear it coming, but I'm a freak of science,’ Bucky responds.

‘Sorry. I haven’t had one of those in a while,’ Tony tells him, ‘I don’t know what happened.’

Glancing over at Shuri who has their back turned to them, Bucky sits down the arm of Tony’s chair and kisses him on the forehead. He says, ‘You never have to apologise for that. Not to me.’

Tony leans heavily against him and closes his eyes. ‘God, I can’t believe it nearly happened in public.’

‘We would have handled it,’ Bucky tells him.

Tony doesn’t respond for a moment, then he nods.

Tony leaves the next day with Shuri for their first official New Avengers appearance: a visit to South America to oversee the opening of an NA funded support centre for Inhumans and their families. Bucky sees them off at the garage, feeling a slight pang in his heart that he can’t go with them, but they should be back in a day or two. Tony kisses him goodbye before slipping into the car (where Happy is sitting bug eyed out of his mind at the sight) and Bucky waves goodbye as the Audi slinks off into the distance.

A day goes by and the tower is unbearably quiet. Even though Bucky had been used to being by himself, he finds himself going mad without the pair of them in the building. He cleans his room from top to bottom, refolds all his clothing (even his underwear), waters all the plants and blitzes through a pack of cigarettes. He falls asleep in a cold bed and wakes to silence.

On the second day, Bucky is jolted awake by a shrill beep.

‘Welcome back, Sergeant Barnes. Boss is attempting to call you regarding an emergency in Queens,’ FRIDAY informs him.

Bucky focuses on the television, where a breaking news banner underlines a robot tearing through New York. Eight mechanical tentacles tear through shop fronts and civilians and in the background, he sees Spider-Man frantically swinging from skyscrapers in an attempt to keep up.

FRIDAY patches Tony through and Bucky begins, ‘I have a feeling I know what this is about.’

‘Okay good, because I don’t have time to shout at Spider-Man. It's going to take me and Shuri a while to get back from South America and underoos needs back up right now,’ Tony tells him.

‘So what do you want me to do? Call Ross?’ Bucky asks.

‘No,’ Tony tells him patiently. ‘I want you to go in and help him.’

Bucky is so floored by the request, he doesn't say anything for a couple of seconds. He says, ‘But Ross-’

‘He’s already said you can go in. Can I count on you?’ Tony asks.

Bucky shakes off his funk and responds immediately, a coolness settling over his body as he mentally runs through what he needs to grab. His guns, for one. His body armour. His-

‘-FRIDAY will authorise you to use the garage, you know how to ride a motorbike right? It'll be the fastest way to get there and Spider-Man has a radio built into his suit, so FRIDAY can link you up,’ Tony tells him.

‘Understood. I'll liaise with Spider-Man now,’ Bucky says, already strapping on his tactical vest.

‘Sorry I can't be there for your first mission, but knock ‘em dead, tiger. Well, unconscious and captured preferably,’ Tony tells him. ‘We'll be with you as fast as we can.’

Bucky builds his guns in record speed, then jumps into the lift where FRIDAY zooms him down to the garage. ‘Sure, we'll see you on the other side.’

‘Hey. You can do this. Go be a good guy,’ Tony tells him.

A weight Bucky hadn’t realised was on his shoulders lifts. A tiny smile pulls at his mouth, a little, hopeful thing.

‘On it,’ he tells Tony simply.

Bucky breaks about four different traffic laws speeding to Queens on the back of a motorbike. FRIDAY patches him through to Spider-Man and Bucky asks, ‘Spider-Man, what's your status?’

‘Mr Stark?’ Spider-Man's voice comes through to Bucky. ‘Oh man, I don’t know if you know this but there's a robot octopus in Queens and I know I'm not supposed to go in without you but this crazy lady nearly broke my neighbour's face and-’

‘Kid, it's Bucky. Tony's in Venezuela so he sent me in to help you, you're not in trouble,’ Bucky tells him. (Yet, he adds mentally.)

‘Oh. Okay. Can you get here pretty quick? Like I'm grateful and everything that you're on your way but these tentacles are just eating through my web and I'm really scared Doc Oc's going to smash my favourite bodega to pieces,’ Spiderman responds.

In the background, Bucky hears a loud crash. Spiderman wails, but then recovers, ‘Oh no, we’re good, that was just the Starbucks.’

Bucky reaches the edge of the trouble, where the roads have been sealed off by police tape and some intimidating looking officers. In the distance, he can see people fleeing the area as the robot kicks up a gigantic cloud of rubble and dust.

‘Hey man, you gotta turn around,’ one of the police officers calls out to Bucky.

Bucky drives as fast as he can towards the officer and makes it just in time to them. He jumps off his bike, pushes the officer to the side and holds up his metal arm to deflect a gigantic piece of concrete. It shatters against the vibranium and the officer quakes up at him.

‘Okay, yeah, go right on in,’ he tells Bucky.

Bucky pats him on the shoulder without another word and hops back on his bike, tearing down the road. He ditches it outside what used to be Spiderman's Starbucks and spots the kid lunging across the street, firing webs into the core of the robot where a woman with wild hair sits.

One of the robot arms lashes out at Spider-Man, grabbing him by the ankle and hoisting him high into the air. Bucky instantly runs, jumps and tears the robot arm's claws open with his metal limb. He yanks off one of its three fingers and Spider-Man drops like a rock onto the ground, groaning as he lands unceremoniously on his back.

Bucky grabs him just in time as another tentacle digs into the pavement where his head would have been. Spider-Man gets his breath back and tells Bucky, ‘Hold on!’

Bucky is a simple man, when he's given an order he pays attention. He hangs on for dear life, then suddenly he's up in the air and flying. He loses his breath for a moment, stunned by the enormity of the sky, and then they land ungracefully on a rooftop. The webs Spider-Man used to sling them up fall on Doc Oc over the edge of the building - they watch as she struggles with the webbing.

Spiderman flops onto the floor, totally beat. He turns his head to Bucky and asks, ‘So, what do we do?’

For the first time in a long time, probably ever, Bucky is the one calling the shots. His brain short circuits for a split second, then his mind takes him back to the war - back to when he was just a kid, looking to his commanding officer for reassurance. He’s no Steve Rogers, but he can get Spider-Man through this.

‘Alright, let's get down there. She’s got four tentacles on the ground at all times to keep herself up, which means we've only got four arms to deal with as far as combat goes,’ Bucky tells Spider-Man, jumping up onto the lip of the roof.

Spider-Man responds, ‘Oh, great. Just four.’

‘You said your webbing wasn't effective right?’ Bucky said.

‘I mean, it can keep her busy for a few seconds but her claws shred through it pretty quickly,’ Spiderman says.

‘A few seconds is all we need. Here's the plan,’ Bucky begins and Spiderman listens intently.

Five minutes later, Bucky jumps off the edge of the building and lands on the broken up pavement. His knees don't even quiver as adrenaline surges through him. Spider-Man lands on the other side of Doc Oc, hemming her in.

‘Hey, lady! I know a sushi chef that's dying to meet you,’ Spider-Man shouts at her, firing off webbing at random. Bucky resists the urge to groan at the kid’s terrible quip. She lets out a low scream of frustration and tears through it, lunging towards him.

Spider-Man pins two of her tentacles to the ground and Bucky fires four shots into the base where they connect to a gigantic breastplate. The arms spasm and go dead, then she raises her last two remaining arms and scuttles towards Bucky.

He rolls underneath a mailbox, picking up a drain cover as he goes. He holds it up before him like a shield to deflect a stray mailbox as he charges Doc Oc.

The tentacles rise to strike him, he tells Spider-Man, ‘Now.’

The claws lash at him. Trusting in Spider-Man, he continues forging ahead and then the tentacles are suddenly yanked back by a tidal wave of webbing - leaving the woman in the mechanical harness unprotected. Bucky tears her out of it and the tentacles go limp instantly, leaving him standing in the middle of a dusty street with a middle aged woman held up by the scruff of her shirt.

‘It's over,’ Bucky tells her, and to Spider-Man in his earpiece.

She spits on him. Bucky blinks in surprise, then Spider-Man webs her mouth shut and the police swoop in. He spots Ross at the press line, huffed up and as red as possible, then turns to Spider-Man.

‘We talking to the press?’ Spider-Man asks.

Bucky makes a judgment call. He asks, ‘How fast can you get back to the Tower?’

Spider-Man eyeballs the tower in the distance. ‘Probably fifteen minutes.’

Spider-Man cocoons Doc Oc in a mass of webbing and Bucky smashes her tentacles to smithereens, in the hopes that Ross won't repurpose them for something else. Spider-Man joins in, using his webbing to tear the main back plate apart and that's when all hell breaks loose.

Something in it breaks open and a broken tube sprays Spider-Man in the face with fluid. Bucky's heart instantly leaps into his throat as Spiderman screams, scrabbling for the base of his mask. Ross, who had been striding towards them, suddenly breaks out into a run to help. In slow motion, Bucky sees the flash of the press cameras out of the corner of his eye as Spider-Man begins to remove his mask - revealing a chin too young to grow any meaningful stubble.

Bucky pulls Spider-Man roughly into his chest, hiding his face from the cameras. Spider-Man is hyperventilating, wiping his face on the arms of his suit, and Bucky's heart settles when he doesn't smell anything chemical in the liquid. It was just water.

‘You okay?’ Bucky asks.

‘Did anybody see my face?’ Spider-Man asks, fear seeping into his voice. ‘I didn’t mean to, I just couldn’t breathe-’

‘I know. It’s not your fault,’ Bucky tells him. ‘Your skin's okay? Nothing's burning?’

‘No,’ Spider-Man responds.

Ross reaches them and demands, ‘Spider-Man, are you injured?’

Bucky puts a hand on the back of Spider-Man's neck protectively, trying his best to cover up the boy's face from prying eyes. His eyes flick up as he begins counting the security cameras that probably caught the kid unmasking.

Spider-Man glances up at Bucky, uncertain.

‘He's alright, but his identity’s been compromised. I can get him back to the Tower and arrange for his family to be brought to a secure location, but we'll need a way past the press line,’ Bucky says, trying to stay calm.

Ross catches sight of Spider-Man's teary face. He says dumbly, ‘Shit, he's just a kid.’

Spider-Man tenses as Ross’ words sink in. Right now, Spider-Man needs Bucky not to lose his cool and be an adult about this. Bucky squeezes the back of his neck reassuringly.

‘General Ross,’ Bucky says, trying to get the man back on track.

Ross’ eyes flicker up to his and away from Spider-Man's mop of brown hair. ‘Yeah. Yeah, sure, whatever you need.’

‘We'll also need the traffic cameras along our route back to the Tower to be disabled,’ Bucky tells him.

Ross nods and adds, ‘I’ll deal with the press, see if they have anything that could ID him.’

Bucky clicks a button on his motorbike key and it beckons to his call, appearing at his side like a dog to whistle.

‘Here, stick this on and get on the bike. We're going back to the Tower,’ Bucky says, pressing a helmet into his hands.

‘Aunt May,’ Spider-Man says simply, then his throat closes up.

‘Does Happy know who she is?’ Bucky asks.

Spider-Man nods.

‘I'll arrange for Happy to pick her up and bring her to the Tower. Is there anybody else close to you that might be in danger if your identity gets out?’ Bucky asks.

Spider-Man shakes his head.

‘Okay, put on the helmet and let's go. We can talk about what you want to tell your aunt on the way,’ Bucky says.

Ross adjusts his position imperceptibly to cover Spider-Man's face as he pulls on the helmet. Bucky notices though and he says quietly, ‘Thanks.’

‘I have kids,’ Ross says simply, which says everything. ‘I'm not a complete monster, contrary to anything Tony might have told you.’

Bucky doesn't know what to say to that, so he slings a leg over his motorbike and gestures for Spider-Man to get on. He tells Spider-Man, ‘When we get on, you push your face into the back of my vest and you don't look up for anything - alright?’

‘You tell Tony we're going to have a big chat about this,’ Ross says firmly, then turns away and begins barking orders into a walkie. He gestures at Bucky to drive off and he does, then as he reaches the press line it parts like the Dead Sea. The cameras rise, straining for a glimpse of Spider-Man.

Bucky drives like hell.

The hour afterwards is one of the most nerve wracking of Bucky's life, which is saying a lot. Tony and Shuri are still completely caught up with stuff in Venezuela, which means that Spider-Man is completely and totally in his hands. He's made more phone calls than he has in decades: to Foggy to talk Spider-Man through his legal options, to Happy to pick up a very angry woman from Queens and to Pepper for the PR strategy moving forwards if Spider-Man's identity gets out.

It's exhausting and Spider-Man doesn't say a word for all of it, lying on Bucky's blue couch and staring at the ceiling. He still has the motorcycle helmet on, in the place where it matters the least.

After Pepper chews his ear off for getting Spider-Man into this situation (something Bucky accepts without a word - he should have been faster, smarter and safer about the kid), he finally puts his Stark phone down. Shuri isn't here to nervously make rooibos tea so Bucky does and while the leaves steep, he gets up and grabs some clothes from his closet.

He sits on the coffee table in front of Spider-Man, who refuses to look at him. He hands him a pair of fresh track pants and a shirt, saying, ‘I'm going to need to need that helmet back and you can't see your aunt in that get up.’

Spider-Man doesn't say anything.

Bucky sighs quietly and puts the clothes on the table beside him. He leans forwards on his knees and says, ‘Hey. I can't help you out if I don't know what you're thinking.’

Spider-Man swallows. He says, ‘I just feel so stupid. I shouldn't have taken off the mask.’

‘No,’ Bucky tells him. ‘You needed to. That water could have been anything and I'm just glad you got it off as quick as you did. For a moment I thought I was going to have to tell Tony your face was burned off on my watch.’

After a moment, Spider-Man sits up and stares at his hands - then takes off his helmet.

‘I just-’ Spider-Man begins.

Bucky waits for him to continue.

‘I just wanted it to be on my terms, you know?’ Spider-Man says finally. ‘Like if I had to reveal my identity because of the Accords and whatever, I wanted it to be my decision and once I knew my aunt would be safe. But even though nobody knows who I am now, there's a chance they could in a couple of hours and I just feel so…’

‘Powerless?’ Bucky fills in.

‘Yeah,’ Spider-Man says.

Bucky takes the helmet from him gently, then holds out the clothes  ‘If there's one thing being locked up in this princess tower has taught me, it's that there’s no use worrying about the things you can’t control. Just start off dealing with the things you can and work your way up to the big stuff. Like changing out of that suit.’

Spider-Man nods. He takes them and looks up at Bucky, swallowing around the lump in his throat. He tells him, ‘Thanks.’

Bucky feels distinctly like a fraud, like the kid should be furious at him instead of thanking him. Instead of voicing that, he just says, ‘No worries, Spider-Man.’

The kid gets up. His brown eyes are unusually bright and he rubs a hand over his sweaty brown hair. He tells Bucky nervously, ‘My name's Peter Parker. The rest of the world might know it in a few minutes, but at least I got to tell you first.’

Bucky smiles up at him. ‘Nice to meet you, Pete. Call me Bucky.’

A tiny smile eventually cracks through the lines of worry on Peter's face. He eventually disappears off to the bathroom.

Pepper rings Bucky. He picks up and wedges the phone between his ear and shoulder as he pours out two cups of tea.

Before he can even greet her, she informs him, ‘It's been a couple of hours now and it's all quiet on the western front. I'm working with FRIDAY to track social media and the news and as far as we're aware, it looks like Spider-Man's identity is in the clear. Luckily you moved so fast that you actually got to him before he got the full mask off, so nobody has any clear footage of him - if they did, I wouldn't be surprised if Ross had scared them into handing it over.'

Bucky feels a weight lift off his chest and he puts his hand to his face, trying to process everything. He says to Pepper, ‘Great. That's great, Pepper. Thank you.’

‘I wouldn't turn on the news right now, if I were you,’ she tells him.

Tony’s still in Venezuela, Bucky remembers. He asks, ‘Are Tony and Shuri okay? Did something happen?’

‘Oh, they're absolutely fine. It’s just that everybody’s talking about you. It's not bad and the press team are handling it, but it is unexpected,’ she tells him.

Curiosity instantly piques at Bucky, but he doesn't dig further. Pepper eventually hangs up after they talk about what comes next and Bucky can't resist - he googles himself.

Several headlines pop up about him and Peter's Doc Oc escapade. As he clicks onto one of them, he's temporarily struck dumb by the lead image - him standing defiantly before Doc Oc, holding a manhole cover before him like a shield. The same way Steve used to.

Is Bucky Barnes Captain America 2.0?  the headline reads.

The door to the bathroom opens noisily and startled, Bucky puts his phone down so hard he cracks the screen. Peter doesn't notice and Bucky puts the weird development aside, bringing the kid a tea and sits him down.

Once Peter's collected himself, Bucky tells him gently, ‘You're in the clear. We caught it in time.’

Peter doesn't say anything, just processing. Then he sobs.

Right before Bucky and Peter go down to see the famed Aunt May, Tony and Shuri arrive at the Tower. Looking worse for wear and totally exhausted, Tony strips out of his armour. He kisses Bucky briefly, which elicits an actual gasp from Peter, but Bucky goes with it. Then Tony sprays himself down with as much luxury deodorant as he can muster and faces Peter’s aunt.

Not for the first time, Bucky is awed by Tony's talent for people. He spins some lie about a top secret defensive military contract he’d like Peter to assist with on his internship programme, walks May through the whole thing and bats off her intense questions easily. Happy, who's clearly enamoured with the woman, hovers anxiously nearby before he takes both Peter and May home to Queens.

Before they leave Peter awkwardly approaches Bucky. He tells him, ‘Hey, I know I freaked out a lot but I'm really glad you were there.’

Bucky honestly doesn't know what to say. If anything, Peter should be mad at him for not doing more. He tries to catch Tony's eye in a panic but the man has already turned, rifling through the fridge for something.

Bucky hesitates, then tries to think of what Steve would have done. He can’t remember, so he says, ‘We're a team. We look after each other.’

Peter swallows and his eyes well up with tears again. He nods and leaves, unable to manage even a goodbye.

Once it's just Bucky and Tony, tension builds between the two of them. Bucky is distinctly aware of how badly he fucked up his mission and he waits for Tony to ream him a new one. Tony approaches him and stretches his hands out carefully, cautiously. He takes Bucky's face in his hands and tilts it this way and that, his eyes searching.

‘You're okay? No scrapes or bruises?’ He asks.

Bucky tells him, ‘Well, I did have a car door thrown at me so that'll probably bruise. But I'm okay.’

Bucky puts his hands over Tony's, searching his face too. Bucky asks, ‘Are you and Shuri okay too? I saw you on television.’

‘I'm okay. I'm just so fucking tired,’ Tony tells him. ‘I'm going to bed and you're coming with me.’

Bucky's cock twitches valiantly in interest, but he's honestly not in the mood after everything that's gone on today. He starts doubtfully, ‘Not that I'm not thrilled to have sex with you again, but-’

‘Oh god, no. The moment my head hits that pillow, I'm done. I just want to go to sleep,’ Tony tells him.

Relief floods through Bucky. ‘Oh. Oh yeah, sure, I can do that. But you don't want to do a debrief first?’

‘There’s a joke in there somewhere but I’m too tired for innuendo. I mean, I know that's what we should do. But Peter's secret identity is safe, Ross has a psychopath in custody, Venezuela isn’t overrun with Swamp Things and you came back in one piece. As far as I'm concerned, it can wait till tomorrow,’ Tony tells him. ‘I'm going to shower.’

Bucky doesn't know what to do, except nod and follow Tony. Tony punches in the button for Bucky's floor and they go up, where Tony immediately jumps into the shower, uses Bucky's towel and emerges in a pair of borrowed boxers he doesn't remember handing to the man. Bucky sits on the edge of the bed and watches him.

‘You're not mad?’ Bucky asks.

Tony stops rubbing his hair down with the towel. ‘About what?’

‘About how badly the mission went,’ Bucky says.

Tony goes over to him and stands over him, placing his hands on Bucky's shoulders. He says, ‘Did anybody die?’

‘No.’

‘Did Peter's identity get out?’

‘No.’

‘Did you get the bad guy?’

‘Yeah,’ Bucky says, ‘but-’

‘You did a good job. Sure, there was a hiccup but you kept Peter safe, made all the right calls and fixed the problem - which wasn't even your fault to begin with. Missions don't always go off without some hitch and you rolled with the punches,’ Tony tells him.

Bucky nods, but still doesn't feel convinced. Tony sees it instantly and leans down, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

‘I know what you're like, you're not going to stop feeling bad about this. So at least use that guilt to fuel you on the next mission,’ Tony says.

Bucky glances up at him. ‘Next mission?’

‘I was going to wait till tomorrow to tell you, but Ross and I hashed things out. After he finished blowing up at me, he did admit he was impressed today. He wants to make you an official member of the New Avengers, effective immediately,’ Tony says, his face breaking out into a big grin.

Bucky stares. The words don't process. ‘But my mental evaluation. Our rehab programme-’

‘We’ll figure it out,’ Tony tells him.

‘If I go out there and they take me back, and I hurt a civilian, or Pete, or you…until I'm fully cleared, I should be a break glass in case of emergency deal,’ Bucky says firmly.

‘Babe,’ Tony says gently. ‘Ross already made the public announcement. We can't take it back.’

Bucky doesn't respond.

‘I've spent every single minute with you in those simulations. You're ready, and we're going to continue working on your rehabilitation. Don't let Hydra continue to control your life,’ Tony says.

Bucky kisses Tony’s palm. He says simply, ‘I'm scared.’

‘I am too,’ Tony admits.

They say nothing for a few moments, then Bucky reaches out for his hand. Tony takes his metal one without thinking twice.

Bucky says, ‘If something happens to me and my programming makes me violent, take me out.’

Tony smooths back Bucky's hair, his hands cool as ocean waves. He tells him, ‘Absolutely not. I'll just throw you back into B.A.R.F..’

The next day, Tony drops Bucky into the abyss of the internet. He watches Bucky grapple to understand the memes, gifs and headlines pouring out about him. Clips of him hollering at the cyclist to get the hell out of there are trending, while others of him hugging Peter have launched a million fanbases. Tony walks Bucky through everything carefully, trying to assess how well he's taking everything, and then they finally come to the elephant in the room.

He pulls up a Washington Post article, his mouth set in a grim line. It's beautifully written and he agrees with every word it says, but it's a problem. It reads: Broken, honest and enduring - why Sergeant Bucky Barnes is the Captain America the world needs right now.

‘This has been read upwards of a million times,’ Tony explains.

‘I'm not Steve,’ Bucky says firmly.

‘No,’ Tony tells him. ‘You’re different. You’re relatable. People are calling for you to put on the suit and shield.’

‘I'm not going to,’ Bucky grounds out.

‘I know, but I just wanted to warn you. Ross is liking the idea a little too much,’ Tony says grimly.

‘I won't do it,’ Bucky repeats.

‘I know, I didn't think spandex was your thing. We're going to have to appease Ross in some way though. He’s being honoured with some huge award at the White House and he wants you there as a guest of honour at the event,’ Tony says.

‘The White House?’ Bucky says, flabbergasted. ‘Where the president lives? In Washington DC?’

‘All the New Avengers are going - well, aside from Peter. He can't without blowing his cover,’ Tony says. ‘We'll be right there with you.’

When Bucky was younger, he never would have passed up the chance for a party this big. But now, he's harder, less trusting than he used to be and honestly can't remember the last time he had to socialise with more than three people. He loves this Tower but he's sick to death of watching the world whistle by underneath him, especially now he's had a taste of the outside.

‘I'll go, but I need a military uniform,’ he tells Tony.

‘You don't want to wear a tux?’ Tony asks in surprise.

‘Another time, sure. But I died for this country once,’ Bucky tells Tony. ‘I want to do the other vets and Commandos proud.’

Tony looks at him consideringly. Then he leans forward, kisses him and says, ‘I'll make a call.’

Ross delivers the uniform personally a couple of days later. Bucky doesn't allow him access to his floor, but he does go down to the lounge where he has already made himself comfortable with a coffee. Tony reclines on the couch, giving off an air of disinterest, but Bucky can see him vibrating with tension.

‘Ah, the man of the hour. How are we doing, Sergeant?’ Ross asks, his demeanour light and just this side of charming. It's…unsettling.

‘Great, thank you sir. And thank you for delivering my mess dress as well,’ Bucky says, eyeing the immaculately folded black and navy uniform on the table. It looks so different now, he thinks.

‘Anything for a fellow soldier. If you put the coat on, I'll help walk you through your medals,’ Ross says, holding up a box that rattles.

The number of medals honestly floors Bucky. As Ross pins them one after another on his black jacket, making light small talk, they weigh heavily on him. He waits politely for Ross to finish and by the end of it, there's more metal than fabric adorning his left breast and upwards of twenty commendations.

Then Ross pins two final medals: a purple heart and prisoner of war token.

Even Tony seems floored by the magnitude of the moment, taking in the accolades with a hard swallow. Ross steps back, at a loss for words, then brushes down his shoulders and manages a weak smile.

‘On behalf of the US military, I'd like to express my sincerest apologies. We talk a lot about looking after our own, but we should have done more for you - and years ago,’ Ross tells him.

His sincerity burns through Bucky and it's a surreal moment, one he doesn't think his younger self would ever have been able to comprehend. But Bucky of the present, whose life has been one rollercoaster after another, instead inclines his head.

He says, ‘The military and the Commandos gave me the best years of my life. I'm still proud to have served alongside my fellow soldiers and to have fought for my country.’

Ross swallows, then responds, ‘Thank you for your service, Sergeant Barnes.’

Bucky doesn't feel deserving of the gratitude, it ignites a streak of shame inside him. He thinks of the men and women in uniform he's taken down under Hydra, the bases he's helped destroy.

Regardless, he nods.

After Bucky is made a member of the NA, Foggy calls him and asks to set up a private legal meeting. Unsurprisingly, the surprise announcement has major ramifications for Bucky’s agreement with the United Nations and his Sokovia Accords agreement - there’s a lot of legalese to parse out. He asks Bucky to come to his office, away from the Tower ‘where that creepy AI is always watching’, so Bucky goes off to ask Tony for permission in the lab.

He finds Tony in the throes of upgrading - of all things - a regular old Honda Civic. It’s nothing at all like the glitzy cars in his garage and Tony looks disarmingly ordinary, dressed in a black vest and stained jeans as he pores over the engine. He turns around when Bucky walks in and greets him with a quick sweaty kiss.

The tiny moment is like a shot of adrenaline through his system and Bucky can’t resist smiling as he asks, ‘What’s with the car?’

‘I’m a man of the people, Barnes. This is what the people drive nowadays, isn’t it?’ Tony says.

Bucky peers inside the car and notices a fully functional holographic dashboard screen and a fridge. He responds, ‘Yeah, a built-in champagne fridge practically screams civilian.’

‘Excuse you, I don’t drink anymore. That fridge is reserved exclusively for hand-pressed apple juice and organic milk from high-quality Japanese cows only,’ Tony says indignantly.

Bucky shakes his head and comes up behind him, saying, ‘Oh yes, forgive me, now you’ll blend right in with all the civilians - sucking down a litre of Hokkaido milk as you drive through Queens.’

Tony sniffs and leans back against his chest. He says, 'Don't sass me, you're a junior member of staff.' 

‘Well, on that note, I was going to ask if I could leave the tower to see Foggy. We need to talk over my Accords agreement now that I’m technically a full member of the NA,’ Bucky explains.

Tony throws the grease cloth on top of the car windshield and puts his hands on his hips. He says, ‘You know, I’ve been waiting for you to ask me when you wanted to go outside? I just thought your first request would be something more fun, like mini golf or a cruise to the Bahamas.’

‘I didn’t realise I could,’ Bucky responds in surprise.

‘Bucky, you can ask me anything. I just didn’t want to press it because I thought maybe you felt like you weren’t ready,’ Tony answers.

In all honesty, leaving the tower was something that hardly occurred to Bucky - unless it was one of those few moments where he longed to be beside Shuri and Tony working as a New Avenger. He had been so anxious about his rehabilitation and the prospect of hurting anybody, but after the incident with Spider-Man and his success with B.A.R.F. things have changed. He knows he still isn’t at 100%, but without him realising it, he’s become more confident in his ability to control himself. To even consider going back outside.

‘I’m ready now,’ Bucky tells him.

Tony doesn’t say anything in response, he just walks over and holds his face in his hands to kiss him deeply. Bucky can sense the pride in it.

‘I’ll have Happy bring the car around,’ Tony tells him.

‘It’s a Sunday, it’s okay. Foggy said he’d pick me up,’ Bucky explains.

Tony pauses and asks, ‘Do you want me to come with you? If it’s a legal conversation, I probably shouldn’t be involved until you guys are ready to present to the Accords committee-’

‘Yeah, Foggy’s asked if it could be just me this time,’ Bucky says apologetically.

‘Alright, well then honey, I expect you to be back by ten pm sharp,’ Tony tells him.

An hour later, Foggy’s car rolls up to the tower. Tony goes down in the with Bucky to see him off and while Bucky hadn’t been nervous before, he is now. Besides the incident with Spiderman, this is the first time that Bucky will have gone outside without Tony in nearly half a year - without somebody who can keep him in line if things go awry.

Foggy gets out his car and waves as they exit the building. Tony lingers by the entrance, simply raising a hand in Foggy’s direction in return, but still remains petty enough to not go over and say hi properly.

Foggy jogs over and holds out a hand to Tony, greeting him, ‘Mr Stark, how are you?’

Tony eyes his hand and doesn’t take it. He says curtly, ‘I’ve just been in the lab, so I’m a bit gross right now.’

‘Oh. Right,’ Foggy responds, dropping his hand, and Bucky wants to curl up and die in embarrassment on the man’s behalf.

An awkward silence falls between the three of them.

‘Alright, well I’m going to go with Foggy,’ Bucky says to break the silence.

‘Yes, yes,’ Tony says. ‘Message when you’re on your way home.’

‘I’ll have him back by dinner time,’ Foggy promises.

‘I should certainly hope so,’ Tony tells him, affronted. He says goodbye to Bucky and retreats back into the building.

‘Do you think Stark is ever going to warm up to me?’ Foggy asks in exasperation, once the doors have closed behind Tony.

‘Did you say sorry for being a dick?’ Bucky asks.

‘No, I thought it was too awkward to bring up,’ Foggy says sheepishly.

Bucky tells him, ‘Just be direct with him, rather than trying to suck up to him. That gets on his nerves and he respects honesty more than anything.’

They get into the car and Foggy buckles in, but throws a critical glance at him. ‘When did you become an expert on Tony Stark?’

‘I used to be a spy and I live with him. I had to pick up a few things along the way,’ Bucky responds.

They begin driving off, talking aimlessly, until Bucky suddenly realises that they aren’t heading anywhere near the direction of Foggy’s office. He turns to the man suspiciously and says, ‘Foggy, where are we going?’

Foggy flushes. ‘Okay, we might not be going to my office. I can’t tell you where we’re going, but I need you to trust me. And you can’t tell Tony.’

‘Foggy,’ Bucky begins, then Foggy’s car rolls up to the docks.

Bucky feels the hair on the back of his neck begin to stand on end. Before they've even stopped, in the distance he spots a shock of blonde hair and one of the world’s most legendary smiles.

‘Foggy, what did you do?’ Bucky says, rounding on him.

‘I'm not here as your lawyer. If I was, then I'd have to report you for breaching the Accords. But I'm just going to lie back in my chair, fall asleep and whatever happens while I'm down happens - you understand?’ Foggy says, his eyes bright.

Bucky stares at Steve. ‘I can't get out of the car.’

‘The hell? I'm putting my career on the line here,’ Foggy says.

‘I can't do this to Tony. It would destroy him,’ Bucky responds.

‘Look, man. I'm not going to try and pretend I understand you and Tony's relationship. But I know how much you love Captain Amer- uh, Steve. If you don't see him now, who knows when you'll see him again?’

Steve waves hopefully. Against his better judgment, Bucky gets out of the car.

The moment Steve claps him in a gigantic hug, Bucky does away with his doubts. He inhales deeply, catching the scent of Steve's hotel soap, and feels his eyes start to burn as he returns the embrace ferociously.

Bucky is the first to speak, his throat thick. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

Steve laughs, a low warming thing that seeps across Bucky's body like sunshine. ‘Missed you too, Buck.’

They draw away and Steve's eyes are wet with emotion. Bucky clears his throat, digging in his coat pocket for his smokes and puts one in his mouth with slightly shaky hands. Steve holds a hand out for one and Bucky pops a stick in it. The pair used to hunch over together in cold Germany, passing cigarettes back and forth when they had them.

‘You could get into so much trouble,’ Bucky tells him, lighting up.

Steve takes the lighter from him and does his own, puffing as a glowing red end flickers to life. He responds, ‘We were nearby, it would have been rude not to drop in and see you. It's been what, nearly half a year now since you left us?’

‘Almost six months,’ Bucky responds, leaning against a shipping container and sliding down to sit on the floor. Steve joins him and they watch the New York skyline from their little spot, picking out cars and ferries as they speed back and forth.

‘How's everybody?’ Bucky asks.

‘Good, but tired. Clint's been on my ass to give them all a break and I’m in serious danger of giving in,’ Steve tells him.

Bucky huffs. ‘And how are you holding up?’

Steve’s expression falters for a split second. Bucky knows what that means and slides the pack of cigarettes his way, getting the feeling Steve might want another one in a second. Rogers didn't usually smoke - a hangover from his asthmatic days - but when he did, he smoked like a chimney.

Steve responds, ‘I'm okay. Overworked and stressed, but we're doing good work. Could use a right hand though.’

‘You haven't asked Sam yet? Come on man, you can't still be carrying the Rogues on your own,’ Bucky tells him, trying to ignore what he thinks Steve is getting at.

‘He's busy with other things. Plus, I wanted to talk to you first before deciding something like that,’ Steve says.

Bucky sighs. ‘Steve, you know I'm not-’

‘Worth a shot. Like I said, you always have a place with us,’ Steve insists.

‘I know. And even though Tony scratches your eyes out in all the family photographs, you have one with us too,’ Bucky tells him.

Steve smiles, if a little sadly. ‘I think that ship's sailed now.’

New York rattles on in the distance. The Brooklyn Bridge heaves with life as the black water beneath it churns.

‘This just a social call? Pretty big risk to take just to say hello,’ Bucky points out.

Steve stubs out his cigarette, having sucked it down to the dregs. After it cools, he slips the burnt end into his pocket - eliminating any evidence. He says, ‘No, it's a heads up. We came across a Hydra splinter cell the other week, they're small but gradually getting more brazen. I know you're working with Tony on getting better but I figured you might want to develop a contingency plan if they know your trigger words.’

Bucky’s blood runs cold. Sometimes it feels like he's never going to catch a break. He puts a second cigarette between his lips, knowing he needs one. ‘They operational in the US?’

‘Yeah, that's why we were over here. I can send over all the data we have on them, but I figure you're a better person to send it to as Stark probably won't look twice at it,’ Steve responds.

‘He would,’ Bucky says, but leaves the mine where it lies between them. Tony’s a proud man, he’s learned, but when it comes to protecting people he doesn’t mess around.

‘How is he?’ Steve asks finally.

‘Good. Less stressed,’ Bucky tells him.

‘You still…?’ Steve continues, gesturing at Bucky.

‘In love with him? Yeah,’ Bucky says.

Steve doesn't even blink. He simply shoves his hands into his coat pockets, nodding as though it makes sense rather than none at all. ‘Is that why you won’t come back to the team?’

‘No,’ Bucky tells him, ‘The New Avengers do good work and they do it out in the light. I’ve spent so long skulking around in the shadows firing off sniper rounds and I don’t want to go back to that.’

‘But you’re never going to be free. You’re still bound by the Accords,’ Steve points out.

Bucky shrugs. ‘Sure, but I get to live in the real world now.’

‘I just hope you don’t regret it, Buck,’ Steve tells him. ‘You and Spider-Man did a really great job recently, but they’re wasting you by keeping you off the field. You should be off with them on the big missions.’

‘I’ll be out there eventually. I believe in the New Avengers,’ Bucky tells him. ‘And I believe in Tony.’

This is an old song and dance that Steve and Tony have been through before, the tension between freedom and control. Bucky knows all about it, he had pieced enough of it together from Tony and Steve’s scraps. Rather than giving into his old urges, Steve lets the argument slip him by - even though Bucky can see he’s burning to say something else.

‘I might not see eye to eye with him, but I don’t doubt he’s doing what he thinks is best,’ Steve eventually says diplomatically.

Bucky hides a small, amused smile. The pair of them sit there for another half hour, smoking cigarettes in the shadow of their brave new hometown. Then, Steve’s phone trills and he takes an extra cigarette for the road. They both hug one another a little too tightly, thinking too hard about the distance between them.

Foggy drops off Bucky back at the tower and he returns to an empty home. FRIDAY informs him that Tony and Shuri are off in Vietnam, overseeing the opening of the first Inhuman support centre on the continent. Bucky watches on Al Jazeera as the camera zooms in on both their faces, as Tony talks to the cameras about coexistence and community and helps change the world.

The night of the gala comes and it sweeps Bucky up with it. Tony's going directly there from some boring meeting with some politician, which means that Shuri has been appointed his dresser for the night. Bucky vibrates with anxiety the whole time and halfway through suiting up, he suddenly gets an urge to smoke and bolts for the balcony.

‘Absolutely not,’ Shuri, who is currently doing a violently pink face mask, barks at him. ‘You are not going to stink up your uniform with those cancer sticks. If you must smoke, take those trousers off and do it in your boxers.’

She has a point and he begrudgingly takes off the navy bottoms, folding them neatly on the bed. Shuri throws her hands up in the air and heads into the bathroom, presumably to wash off her mask. Bucky sucks down three cigarettes in the span of fifteen minutes and returns, feeling more settled.

Shuri points at his clothing and Bucky pulls his trousers back on, the back of his neck burning. She begins applying a face cream and tells him, ‘There's no need to be nervous, you know. You will be sitting between Tony and myself - you won't even have a chance to talk to anybody else on those god awful round banquet tables. You can just stick to the two of us all night, if you would like to.’

‘Yeah,’ Bucky says doubtfully. The last time he was in a room full of people was his last press conference, where everything was more or less scripted and he wasn't dealing with the president of this country or that company. ‘I just don't want to embarrass the two of you. I used to be good at things like this, but since Hydra…’

She hands him a cup of tea, which seems to have magically appeared out of nowhere. He takes it gratefully and sips it, feeling his nerves settle.

‘You are going to be great. And the moment you decide you would like to go home, we will go and let everyone think we're having a sordid affair,’ she tells him.

Bucky shrugs on his shirt, doing up the buttons and fiddling with his cuffs. ‘I don't want to be in anymore headlines this week.’

‘Well as long as Stark doesn't have sex with you in a lift, you should be just fine,’ she says bluntly.

Bucky can't help it, he goes bright red. He pulls on his cummerbund and Shuri cackles, tying her hair up before applying foundation.

‘Are you going to tell me what's going on there?’ She asks.

Bucky has both been constantly thinking about Tony and also forcing himself not to think of him at all. Tony is the sun and he's just Icarus. He doesn't respond and doesn't say much - until he picks up his box of medals. There must be at least thirty in there, he thinks dizzyingly. He picks up just one: his purple heart.

He pins them and Shuri frowns, saying, ‘Aren’t you supposed to put all of them on?’

Bucky can’t. He feels like he would be a pretender in some way. He shrugs and says, ‘Too many.’

She sighs and goes digging through the box. She pulls out just one: his prisoner of war medal and pins it beside it.

‘If you must insist on being annoyingly humble,’ she tells him, patting down his coat.

She kisses him on the cheek, an apology for pushing too hard about Tony, and then retreats to the bathroom with her dress to change. She returns in a sophisticated caramel number with her hair done up and Bucky instantly grins the moment he sees her, his heart light as helium.

He offers her his arm and says, ‘Your highness.’

She scoffs and takes it, then they whip around to face the full length mirror side by side. Unable to stop fussing, she pats down his silk lapels and then stops to really take in the both of them. They look incredible together, like something out of a film.

‘God. They're really going to think we're dating, won't they?’ Bucky realises aloud.

She pats his hand reassuringly. ‘You, Bucky Barnes, are about to become the luckiest man in the world.’

They take Tony's quinjet to New York and Happy waves goodbye amiably from the cockpit as they slip down the gangway. They join a queue of other diplomats waiting for their security check and when they get to the scanner, Bucky is suddenly stopped.

‘I'm afraid he can’t come in with that, your highness,’ the guard says, pointing at Bucky.

Bucky instinctively pats himself down, looking for whatever weapon he's been called out for. Shuri's eyes narrow and she says, ‘Do you mean his arm?’

Bucky feels his heart sink. Of course that's what they meant. He swallows, glancing down at his limb. His metal fingers stare back at him.

‘Just following protocol,’ the guard responds.

‘I built that arm myself,’ she says, her tone rising, ‘and I can vouch for it.’

‘The arm either comes off or he doesn't come in,’ the guard grounds out.

Behind him, Bucky can feel people stirring. He notices somebody, a journalist maybe, filming the encounter with a phone quietly. He really doesn't want to make a scene.

He tells her, ‘Shuri, I went without my arm for nearly a year. It’s fine, he's just doing his job.’

‘But it's your arm. There's no dignity in any of this, it's your arm, ’ she repeats in frustration.

‘Step to the side please,’ the guard tells them and Bucky literally has to pull her off to one side.

He asks the guard, ‘What happens to my arm if I take it off?’

‘It goes into a secure facility, protected by other guards,’ he deadpans. ‘You'll get it back at the end of the night.’

Bucky unbuttons his jacket, his medals clacking as he does so, and begins undoing his white bowtie and cummerbund. He takes off his shirt and slides off the sleeve to reveal the prosthetic, the grotesque scarring where the port is built right into is flesh.

The guard stutters, ‘Sir, you can't do that here-’

‘I don’t believe the president ordered a stripper, but I'll take him if he's going,’ a voice calls out, from just beyond the security line.

Bucky glances up and notices Tony striding towards him, dressed in a full white tie suit. He grins devastatingly at Bucky and he honest to god feels his heart skip a beat, his mouth dry as he takes in the way Tony looks in his black tailcoat and slicked back hair. Like Clark Gable or Cary Grant, in one of those movies that piqued his sexuality's interest.

‘Mr Stark, please stay in the venue,’ the guard says.

Tony pushes his way past and walks over to Bucky, slapping away the super soldier’s hands away and doing his shirt back up again. He smiles at Bucky, confidence oozing from his every pore, and instantly sets him at ease.

‘Do you know how Sergeant Barnes lost his arm?’ Tony asks the guard, his eyes still fixed on Bucky.

The guard shifts. ‘I do, sir.’

‘In the line of duty, fighting Nazis to protect America,’ he tells the guard anyways, adjusting Bucky’s collar as Shuri fastens his cummerbund.

Shuri helps Bucky back into his military coat and Tony continues, ‘Are other veterans with prosthetics allowed to take theirs into the White House on a regular basis?’

‘They are, but they aren’t weaponised to the degree that Barnes’ is,’ the guard says.

‘Sergeant Barnes,’ Tony corrects him coolly. ‘Did you know that even though Bucky is ready to hand over his arm without a second thought to make you feel more comfortable, I will personally lose my shit and make your life a living hell?’

‘I did not know that, sir. But I have my orders,’ the guard repeats.

Tony deftly finishes Bucky’s collar and winks at him. ‘Big smile sweetheart, you're about to meet FLOTUS.’

Tony's words don't sink in immediately. The clack of high heels down the corridor reaches them and suddenly, there's a huge commotion in line as the honest to god First Lady of the United States appears over Tony's shoulder.

The guard's attitude completely changes and he straightens up. She instantly catches Bucky's eye and smiles, as though she's known him her entire life, and instantly spreads out her arms to embrace him.

‘Sergeant Barnes. I'm so happy you could join us,’ she tells him.

Even Shuri looks floored. Tony unsurprisingly looks smug as he kisses her on both cheeks, her raven hair trailing behind her in ribbons.

‘Darling, thanks for coming,’ Tony tells her. ‘We've just run into a bit of an issue with Sergeant Barnes’ prosthetic, this nice man was just telling us that he'll have to remove it if he wants to go in. Taking it off is a very long, painful and exhausting process and well, we'd like to avoid it all costs.’

Shuri finds her voice and says furiously, ‘It's humiliating, making him take it off here and check it in like some kind of handbag. I won’t have it.’

‘Ma'am, I honestly don't mind. I understand your team is just trying to do their job,’ Bucky tells her, feeling incredibly embarrassed. ‘I can take it off or just go home, whatever your team is happiest with.’

‘Absolutely not, not when you're all dressed up and have flown over from New York. I know Ross invited you, but you're now my personal guest and we're going to make sure you have the best time. And that includes getting you into the actual venue with your amazing arm,’ she tells him.

Bucky sees more mobile phones rise up behind her, recording the whole thing. From what little he knows of the internet, he knows that all these videos are going to be up within the hour  - If they aren't live streaming already.

He inclines his head. ‘Thank you, ma'am.’

She kisses him on the cheek and tells him, ‘And thank you for your service.’

She takes his arm and personally walks him into the White House ballroom, which is as glitzy as the people inside. Chandeliers hang precariously over the proceedings and floral arrangements spill over every surface. The room stills for a moment when they come in, then launches back into life like a buffering video and she walks them personally to their table.

‘I do hope you have a good time, Sergeant Barnes. I'll be back later for a dance,’ she tells him.

He stares at her, taking in her kind smile, dark glittering eyes and the sincerity that rolls off her like mist. He nods and says, ‘Thank you for everything back there.’

‘Oh please don't. The security team at the White House is sometimes too good at its job,’ she tells him.

Tony interrupts them to take her by the hand and kiss her on both cheeks, saying, ‘Thank you, Lizzie.’

‘I'm expecting a dance from you later too,’ she warns him before sweeping off, her Valentino gown gliding like water behind her.

‘I am in love,’ Shuri declares.

Tony turns to her, pulling out her chair for her to sit down. ‘You've met her before, surely?’

‘Yes, but only in passing. She glows,’ Shuri says.

Bucky can’t help but nod. The First Lady sits at the top table behind her husband, pointing Bucky out to the president, and waves. Bucky waves back, just as the president begins waving too.

‘My ma would never believe this,’ he says out loud.

Tony sits down and pulls Bucky down onto the chair beside him. His hand lingers a little longer than normal on his wrist and Tony tells him, ‘This is your life now. If I know Lizzie, she's going to make you her pet project.’

‘What does that-’

‘Please welcome the 46th president of the United States,’ the MC booms through the microphone.

The president stands up and takes his place at the podium. The wine arrives and Bucky refuses. It takes a lot to get him drunk nowadays and he also doesn't want to find out what happens if he does, with his rehabilitation hanging on by a thread. Tony asks them to take away his own glasses completely and sips on water.

The rest of the night rolls on and it doesn't take long for the White House to wear thin, as speech after speech drags on. Bucky dines on hilariously small fine dining courses as Shuri teaches him quietly how all the cutlery works, Tony explains how to shell a prawn with a knife and fork and Bucky digs under the table for his napkin which has fallen from his lap several times. Ross gives a speech finally and it's a good one, at least until he specifically brings up Bucky and Tony chokes on his asparagus.

‘Working closely with Sergeant Barnes and seeing the progress he's made with his rehabilitation has been truly inspiring. He exemplifies what it is to be a true American, to be knocked down and continue fighting now as an official member of the New Avengers. I know tonight is supposed to be about me, but I'd just like to raise a glass to one of this nation's greatest heroes,’ Ross announces.

Bucky feels like he's about to throw up. Under the table, Tony takes his hand and presses it firmly - keeping him grounded. With his free one, Tony raises a glass and Shuri does too as Bucky stares firmly at the table.

‘To you, Sergeant Barnes and your continued service to the American people,’ Ross says.

Bucky literally can’t wait for the moment to be over. There was a time he wanted nothing less than to be the centre of attention, but he can’t stand the eyes burning into him now, the smiles on everybody's faces as they toast him and his patchwork life. He feels no gratitude, no pride. Just emptiness.

‘Are you okay?’ Shuri asks Bucky quietly, once the moment has passed.

Bucky glances up at her, releasing Tony's hand with a forced smile and says, ‘I know you hate it when I smoke, but can we go for a cigarette?’

She sighs and kisses his cheek. ‘I'll make an exception this once.’

‘Will you be okay if we jump out?’ Bucky asks Tony.

Tony scoffs. ‘In this nest of vipers? I was practically raised here. Go escape for a few minutes.’

Bucky nods. Shuri grabs her glass of champagne and takes him by the arm, leading him out to the sprawling gardens where a small smoking area has been set up for guests. It's totally deserted, which is a relief. He lights up before they've even taken more than a couple of steps out of the building and sucks the cigarette down to the filter, craving the slow melt of nicotine across his muscles. He doesn't say anything.

‘Do you want to go home?’ Shuri asks him directly.

Yes, Bucky thinks.

‘No. I'll stay for a little bit,’ Bucky says finally.

She sits on a bench, arranging her dress just so. She pats the seat next to her and Bucky does, carefully blowing his smoke away from her to be polite.

‘You don't have to push yourself. Neither of us will think any less of you if you decide you want to leave,’ she tells him.

‘I know,’ he says, ‘I want to be here though. But I wouldn't mind if we stayed out here a little while longer.’

‘As long as you want. The White House is utterly dull, I wish we were in Wakanda instead. Beyonce and Jay-Z were at our last gala, you know,’ she tells him.

‘I have a feeling those are people I'm supposed to care about,’ Bucky says, his mouth curving around his cigarette.

‘Crazy in Love? Formation? Lemonade?’ Shuri demands.

‘Now you're just shouting words at me and I feel uncomfortable,’ Bucky says.

‘You are getting an education when we get home. You're a disgrace to the LGBT community,’ she tells him, sniffing.

Bucky can’t help it, he glances around to see if anybody overheard her last comment. But it seems like everybody is still inside. He clears his throat and says, ‘Hey, on that front. I'm not ready to really tell anybody yet, so I'm don't really want to talk about it in public. I'm still...figuring some things out.’

‘And Tony's helping you with that?’ she asks innocently, sipping on her champagne.

‘Nope. In fact, he's making things worse,’ Bucky admits, raking a hand through his hair.

She pauses, then ventures, ‘Just be careful, please? Your mental health and rehabilitation comes first, before anything else - before me, before Tony. You can't let anything else get in the way.’

‘I won't,’ he promises.

‘I just worry about you, Bucky. Sometimes, it seems like your world revolves around Stark,’ she tells him.

Her words sink in and settle in his stomach like rocks in a pond. He pulls out a second cigarette and lights it, rolling her words around in his head.

Bucky says, ‘I love him.’

Shuri nods. ‘I know. And I know you love the people closest to you with such passion, but you reserve none of it for yourself. Even though you’ve made so much progress with your memories and deprogramming, I think that’s something you still need to work on.’

Bucky taps the ash of his cigarette onto the ground. He thinks of the countless lives he’s taken and still can’t understand why she’s sitting here with him. Why she’s come this far. He says, ‘I don’t know.’

‘To be loved by you is a wonderful, ferocious thing and Stark is enormously privileged. But I worry that you have started to centre your life around his because you think your own is not worth it,’ she tells him.

That leaves a bad taste in his mouth. He thinks of Tony inside, sweeping around in his tailcoat and laughing with other members of the elite. Tony has this gigantic existence out in the real world and Bucky is just a speck in it.

‘I think I do actually want to go home,’ he tells her finally.

Her face creases. ‘Oh no, Bucky, I didn't mean to upset you.’

‘I know,’ he tells her, ‘and I'm not angry. I just think you've given me a lot to think about.’

She links her fingers through his and squeezes. ‘I adore you, Bucky Barnes. I want your happiness more than my own.’

He kisses her on the head and tells her, ‘I know, that's why I need to take this seriously.’

They sit together in silence for a few minutes. He finishes his cigarette and after what feels like an eternity later, they go inside.

‘I just need to get my coat,’ Shuri tells Bucky. ‘I'll see you outside.’

‘I've already called Happy, he'll be waiting for you at the pick up point,’ Tony says.

Bucky tells him quietly, ‘Great, thanks.’

‘When we get home, we can get out of these stuffy old things, drink your bad tea and I'll sit on the balcony as you chain smoke to your heart's content. Whatever you need,’ Tony tells him.

Tony's words sink in. If they weren't surrounded by people, he would have leaned over to kiss him. But over his shoulder, he can see a couple of people vibrating with impatience - waiting for a chance to speak with Tony.

‘You can stay here, Tony. You look incredible, don’t waste that slick get up with a night in at home,’ he tells him. ‘Plus, it'd look pretty bad if all three of us left.’

Tony hesitates. ‘You'll message when you're back at the tower?’

Bucky gives in and reaches forward, daring to a smooth a hand over Tony's shoulder. ‘Go schmooze.’

Tony covers his hand with his own and his eyes sear into Bucky's. He tells him, ‘I'll be another thirty minutes here, wait up for me?’

Bucky can't help it, a smile wins out. He nods and pulls his hand away as he departs.

He spots Shuri in the distance, stuck in a queue to pick up her coat from the cloakroom. He takes a chance and dips back out to have another smoke. It's still empty, apart from a man in a blue velvet suit who stands a distance away. As Bucky lights up a cigarette, the man turns and he notices with a frown that the man's breast pocket is bulging oddly.

Before he can even think twice, a woman in a green dress steps into the area and pulls out a box of cigarettes. She withdraws one, approaches him and smiles sweetly with it outstretched in her hands. Bucky pulls out his lighter in anticipation, figuring she needs a light.

She holds up her little white stick and says, ‘Rust.’

Bucky’ world falls out from underneath him. He sees her mouth form the rest of his activation string, running over the syllables like musical notes. The classical symphony through the White House speakers sounds so distant now. He can't move, can't do anything.

‘Light my cigarette,’ she tells him.

Bucky feels his body strain against his programming, sweat beading on his forehead. The man in the distance pulls a gun out of his breast pocket, loading it and watching them carefully. Hydra, Bucky realises.

Bucky doesn't light her cigarette, but he also doesn't do anything else. They stand, facing off against one another at an impasse.

‘What's happening?’ The man in the distance asks in Russian.

The woman frowns and responds, ‘The Asset is under, but not responding to orders. We'll need to put it in the chair again.'

The man snorts. ‘With the other one? You did not strike me as the sentimental type.’

The chair. Bucky remembers the pain, the sear of electricity rattling around in his skull, the pull of the leather restraints and the way his memories disappeared like a house into wildfire. He is not going back, he thinks. He is never going back. He wants the world he has now: lazy days spent on his sunny terrace with a cigarette in hand, endless cups of tea with Shuri, Tony beside him in bed.

Bucky's left finger twitches. He feels sensation return to his body, muscle by muscle, as he regains control. He eyes the man in the distance, whose gun is still pointed in his direction and decides the only way out of this is to play along.

‘Asset, do you comply? ’ the woman asks.

He responds eventually in Russian, ‘Ready to comply. ’

The man with the gun sighs in relief and tucks his weapon away. He stretches and the woman frowns, reaching out to touch Bucky's face and turning it this way and that. Her manicured nails scrape against his skin.

She nods, looking more certain. ‘There is a guard at the entrance. Dispatch him, quietly, and then we will move onto phase 2.’

Bucky inclines his head. The man strides over to Bucky and presses a knife into Bucky’s hand, which he then orders him to pocket.

She murmurs to him, ‘With me. ’

He follows her and she slips off to the side, pressing him towards the guard at the security scanner. The other man in the blue velvet suit seems to fade into the woodwork, but Bucky knows he’s still watching.

Bucky approaches the guard at the scanner who gave him hell earlier and thinks quickly, before arranging his right hand over his left forearm discreetly. The hand signal for enemy. The guard’s eyes immediately sharpen and as he draws closer, Bucky clenches his metal hand into a fist and leaves just two fingers outstretched. The guard’s eyes flicker up from Bucky to the Hydra agents behind him and he nods discreetly.

Bucky’s programming screeches at him and his brain is so loud, white noise crackling in and out. As he approaches the guard, he takes the knife out of his cummerbund as the woman’s orders fight struggle to take over. Bucky’s body is a battle zone and he sees the guard’s eyes widen. Bucky thinks of Steve, of Tony and Shuri.

The guard begins striding towards him and as he reaches Bucky, he walks straight past them and meaningfully towards the Hydra agents. Realising they’ve been done for, the woman in the dress barks in Russian and pulls a gun out of her handbag.

Bucky turns and throws his knife back at her, the heavy handle smacking her hand precisely and knocking the gun out of her grip. It goes off as it hits the floor. He then picks up a plastic security tray and lobs it as hard as he can at her again, joining the security guard in the fray. He runs to take out the other guy, holding up his metal arm to take the brunt of a knife attack as the man pulls out a vicious looking weapon.

‘You gave me shit for my arm and yet these guys managed to get a gun and knife in?’ Bucky can’t resist sniping at the security guard.

The guard huffs as the woman lands a pretty vicious kick to the face, but manages, ‘You can write me up after we get through this.’

Bucky ducks, weaves and manages to land a punch with his metal hand which connects with a vicious crunch. The Hydra agent he’s fighting goes down like a light and turns to the security guard, who is clearly losing his battle. He realises with a click that the woman must be a Black Widow - there’s no way the guard will win against her.

Bucky all but boots the secret service agent out of the way, hissing at him, ‘Call for backup. There might be more of them in there with the president.’

There’s a cold, then suddenly warm sensation across Bucky’s right arm. He realises with a jolt that the Widow has a knife and it burns unpleasantly, which must mean the blade was poisoned in some way. He dodges a couple of swipes as she lunges at him and Bucky manages to grab onto one of her wrists, disarming her.

‘Right. Right,’ the guy says, hobbling off as he holds a finger up to his earpiece and begins rattling off information.

Bucky kicks the woman so hard in the chest, she actually flies off her feet. Before she can get up and recover, he’s on top of her and efficiently - ruthlessly - punches her twice in the face. She passes out promptly.

The door at the end of the hall opens to reveal Shuri, all wrapped up in a floor length burgundy coat. She pauses, then says, ‘I was wondering what was taking you so long.’

‘You need to get to the President and the First Lady,’ he tells Shuri.

She tosses off her coat, sighs and hikes up her dress. ‘We will talk about this later.’

Somehow, the New Avengers and the secret service manage to neutralise Hydra without drawing too much attention to themselves. It doesn’t take long for them to realise that the man and Black Widow lying knocked out in the hallway were the only Hydra agents around, which means that they were obviously targeting Bucky. Or at least, planning for Bucky to do their dirty work.

Bucky returns to his lonely floor drained out of his mind and sits on his couch, feeling its cushions embrace him. He stares at his sprawling cheese plant beside the TV and struggles to think of the last time he had cut it. Unbidden, the Black Widow from earlier toys at the edges of his mind whispering in Russian - about chairs and wipes and compliance. Then Bucky doesn't remember anything.

When he comes to, he is still sitting in the exact same position only with a glass of water in his hand. The smell of coffee permeates the floor, followed by a smattering of laughter closer by the kitchen.

Bucky stirs, realising he's lost time again. It leaves a sour taste in his mouth and he pats his breast pocket down, finding his pack of smokes.

He manages to get to his feet and puts a cigarette between his lips, his real hand shaking slightly. The laughter stops suddenly and then Shuri sweeps into vision, giving him a once over as she puts her hands on his shoulders.

‘You alright, Bucky?’ She asks him.

He wants to crawl out of his clothes, out of his skin. ‘I need a smoke.’

She eyes him, then relents, ‘Give me your jacket then.’

Bucky does so and gives her the cummerbund for good measure too. He lights his cigarette, puts his feet up on another chair and stares up at the smoggy sky. He finishes the first in record time, then reaches for another.

The door to the balcony opens and he inhales sharply, sitting up and taking his feet off the chair politely. Shuri joins him with an extra cup of tea in hand, as well as with Tony who takes the chair closest to him.

Shuri places a cup of tea before Bucky and barks, ‘Tea.’

It's more an order than an observation and he drinks it. Tony, who is sitting too far away and not close enough, sips on his coffee as he goes rifling through his tailcoat for something. He puts two small gift bags full of candy on the table.

‘You skipped out early on the goodie bags, so I got you some,’ Tony says.

Shuri immediately takes hers and digs in, popping a green macaron into her mouth. Bucky doesn't really have much of an appetite so he leaves his untouched and smokes another cigarette, irritated that the nicotine hasn't already kicked in.

Bucky can't bring himself to join their conversation until his third cigarette has been sucked down to the filter. He stabs it out in the ashtray and leans back, folding his arms over his chest.

‘Sorry,’ he tells them.

Shuri's eyes narrow at him, drawn immediately out of her conversation. ‘For what?’

Everything. Nothing. He says finally, ‘I'll be fine after I have another smoke.’

Under the table, Tony's hand finds his relentlessly tapping knee and Bucky stops. He lights his fourth cigarette and latches onto Tony's hand afterwards, keeping it in place as the man starts to pull away.

‘They tried to put me under,’ Bucky says.

Shuri's face darkens. Tony squeezes his fingers and his expression sharpens, but he doesn't say anything - waiting for Bucky to get everything out.

‘It didn't work, obviously. So at least whatever we're doing with B.A.R.F. is effective outside of the Tower,’ Bucky continues.

Tony says, ‘Crappy way to test run that though.’

Bucky nods, but then ploughs on, ‘They were talking. They have another chair and they talked about another asse- another person that they'd put under.’

‘Did they give a name?’ Tony asks.

‘No. It was so quick, it was just a throwaway comment. But if there's even a chance that there's another person in the chair...’

‘We'll need to brief Ross on everything and talk to him as soon as possible. I know SHIELD's already got an active investigation into Hydra's offshoots so they might have more intel on who might have been targeted,’ Tony says, swapping into work mode.

‘I'll speak with my brother. We've taken a special interest in Hydra's movements since Bucky came to us,’ she says, not even caring that Tony technically isn't supposed to know Bucky and the Rogues hid out with them.

Shuri leaves swiftly after that, keen to catch her brother on the phone before the time difference eats into everything. She rises to her feet and kisses Bucky on the forehead, then wipes off the dark lipstick stain she left behind. Shuri says, ‘Sleep well, Bucky.’

‘You too,’ he murmurs.

She leaves Tony and Bucky outside alone and they tumble into silence, each waiting for the other to break it. Their hands are still linked and Bucky stares single-mindedly at them. Tony’s gaze however is totally on him. Bucky can feel it on him like summer sunlight, welcome but almost too much for him to stand.

Tony starts, ‘Do-’

Bucky says at the same time, ‘Can you-’

They stop simultaneously. Tony grins as a small smile pulls at Bucky's mouth and the tech genius waves his hand in a grand manner, indicating that Bucky should go first.

Bucky reaches across the table and closes Tony’ hand in his own. He says, ‘I'd like it if you stayed the night. If that's not too forward.’

Tony cups Bucky's cheek and leans forward to kiss him chastely. He pulls back, assessing him, and seems to find something he likes as he returns for a second deeper kiss, one that has them gasping against each other’s mouths and light-headed.

Once they break apart, Tony presses his forehead against Bucky's as they simply breathe one another in. Tony says, ‘Also, belated yes.’

Bucky feels Tony’s eyelashes flutter against his own. ‘I figured.’

A rush of emotion floods through Bucky as they smile against one another's lips, pressed up against one another. An eternity later, Bucky leads Tony back into the flat and the air crackles with promise.

Tony kisses him again and Bucky lifts him up effortlessly, carrying him over to the bed as the man's arms circle his shoulders. Tony can’t help himself and he comments, ‘Haven't been carried like this in decades.’

Bucky mouths at his jaw and says wryly, ‘A queen of your stature? I don't believe it.’

‘That's homophobic and I won't have it,’ Tony tells him and Bucky tumbles him onto the bed in retaliation.

He lands with an oof, but doesn't have time to catch his breath before Bucky is on top of him, his hands and mouth streaking supernova trails across his body. Tony moans and arches into his touch, attempting to slide out of his tailcoat as Bucky's tongue traces the shell of his ear, as his teeth graze the side of his neck.

Tony manages to get the coat off and pulls at his bowtie viciously, then nearly rips his dress shirt buttons off in his haste. Bucky huffs in amusement, then leans back as he divests himself of his own shirt. Tony's mouth goes dry at the sight of Bucky’s cock straining against his tight navy trousers and his attention doesn't go unnoticed by Bucky, who reaches down and passes a hand tantalisingly over the bulge.

‘Tease,’ Tony tells him, then all but lunges over to help him out of his trousers.

It doesn’t take long before Bucky is the one losing his composure, flailing a hand out to stable himself against the headboard as Tony’s warm hand reaches into his boxer briefs. Tony snickers and bites at his collarbone as Bucky slides his clothes off, then Tony dips his head and licks a long, slow stripe up the side of his cock.

Bucky swears and threads his hands through Tony’s hair, pulling on the strands lightly to encourage the man to look up. Tony does so and holds eye contact with Bucky as he takes his length into his mouth, his lips stretched around Bucky’s girth. Those dark brown eyes water as Bucky bumps against the back of his throat, but Tony powers through and takes every inch until his nose is flush against Bucky’s washboard stomach.

‘Christ,’ Bucky moans, unable to tear his eyes away from Tony.

Tony continues to tantalisingly slowly slide his mouth up and down Bucky’s cock, gradually increasing in pace. Bucky sees Tony’s hand scrabble to pull his own neglected dick out of his trousers and how he begins to pump away at himself, closing his eyes in ecstasy as he swallows Bucky to the hilt again and again. It’s almost dizzying how hard Bucky is right now and knowing just how much Tony is loving every second of this is ruining him.

Tony’s saliva drips over his balls and down the man’s chin. As Tony drives him closer and closer to the edge, Bucky hisses and tells him, ‘Close, Tony, I’m close-’

In an instant, Tony pulls away from Bucky’s cock and begins to slide a tight hand over his length. He fixes those big brown eyes on Bucky, pointing his cock in the direction of his mouth, and Bucky suddenly realises Tony wants him to come all over his face. The thought alone is enough to make his entire body shiver and he comes fiercely, spraying white ribbons of come across Tony’s waiting mouth, cheeks and neck.

Without missing a beat, Tony sucks Bucky down again and his entire body clenches with the dizzying overstimulation. Tony continues for a couple more moments, completely draining Bucky of any remaining mental capacity, and then finally slides off again to stare up at him. Some stupid caveman voice deep within Bucky groans in contentment at the sight of Tony completely covered in his spend, fixating on the pink tongue that snakes out to lick his lips clean.

Tony rises up onto his knees and begins fully taking his clothes off. Bucky takes his own shirt off and wipes Tony’s face with it, ruining yet another expensive piece of clothing. Once they’re both totally naked, Bucky roves his hands over the hard lines of Tony’s body and feels his mouth water. The serum for the most part took care of Bucky’s body, but Tony - toned and lean - is the product of his own hard work and he plans to reap the rewards.

He bites down on Tony’s hip, which makes the man jump. Bucky wraps his fingers around Tony’s long, dark cock and rises up to kiss the man at the same time, tasting himself on Tony’s tongue.

‘I want you to fuck me tonight,’ Bucky tells him, dragging his hand up Tony’s length.

‘Is that a question? Because the answer is yes, a thousand times yes,’ Tony says, thrusting up into the grip Bucky’s fingers have made around his cock.

Bucky leans over to the side and pulls a bottle of lube out from the bedside table drawer. Tony takes it from him and coats his fingers in it, before reaching down to ghost his fingers deliciously over Bucky’s spent cock, his saliva-slick balls and finally the tight ring of muscle. Bucky spreads his legs and Tony’s fingers begin to circle the tight hole, before eventually working up to sliding the tip of one finger into Bucky up to the knuckle.

Tony exhales sharply and Bucky melts into him as he kisses his chest, stretching him open carefully finger by finger. Bucky reaches down and begins, sliding his hand over his cock at the same time - drunk on pleasure.

‘Please,’ he says, ‘Tony-’

Tony swallows whatever Bucky was going to say next with a desperate kiss, pressing his cock against Bucky’s entrance. He continues as he slides further in and Bucky has never felt so close to another person before, so completely filled and wrapped up in Tony.

‘Christ, you’re tight,’ Tony tells him, his voice tight with the effort not to move.

Bucky spreads his legs further and says, ‘It’s been a few decades. Fuck me.’

Tony growls and begins to slide in and out of Bucky, starting off slow. It sets off stars in Bucky’s vision as he eventually brushes against a part deep inside of him that makes his body electric, making Bucky arch off the bed with pleasure. Encouraged, Tony hones in on it and his pace picks up until he’s pounding Bucky’s quivering body.

Bucky groans, reaching down for his own cock as he begins to chase even higher heights of pleasure. Eventually, Tony’s pace stutters and the man says, ‘Bucky, I’m going to-’

Bucky can feel Tony begin to pull out, but he locks his ankles behind Tony’s back and pulls him even deeper. Tony gasps into his mouth, his eyes crushing shut and Bucky feels Tony fall apart against him, inside him. Bucky comes moments later and Tony kisses him through it, holding him as his entire world narrows to this one blinding point.

Tony murmurs his name quietly, pressing his lips to his brow and Bucky’s chest clenches. There’s something about the way he says it that makes Bucky’s eyes prickle at the corners and he blinks rapidly as Tony swims before him.

‘You alright?’ Tony asks him.

Bucky nods through it, pulling him closer. ‘Never better.’

Early the next morning, with his arm around Bucky, Tony finds out who Hydra's second brainwashed agent is. FRIDAY informs him gently, ‘There's something on your phone I think you need to see, boss.’

Tony sighs and kisses Bucky on the cheek, who rouses slightly. He tells him, ‘Sleep, I'll be back in a minute.’

Bucky inhales sharply, raises his head for a proper kiss, then flops over onto his stomach. The blankets tangle over his legs, leaving the milky expanse of his back open to the elements. Tony can't resist and smooths a hand over the stardust spill of freckles across it. He kisses his way up the man's spine, eventually mouthing at the side of Bucky’s neck.

Bucky cracks just one eye open and says sleepily, ‘I thought you had to do something.’

Tony grins and bites down lightly on his shoulder. He then runs a hand over Bucky's ass and says, ‘You can’t really expect me to get anything done when you’re rolling around naked in bed.’

‘Get me a shirt then and that'll solve the problem,’ Bucky responds, gradually becoming more alert. He presses his ass back into Tony's hand.

‘Christ, this ass,’ Tony says appreciatively, sliding down the sheet to reveal it in all its naked glory.

Unhelpfully, FRIDAY chimes in, ‘My apologies boss, but this is an urgent message.’

‘Ugh. Hold that thought,’ Tony tells Bucky, kissing one of his butt cheeks and taking his phone off the bedside table.

He slips onto the balcony and sits down. There's a message from an unknown number which Tony ignores and instead FRIDAY pulls up a video, which must be the thing that she wants him to look at. It's some crappy liveleak clip filmed on a phone camera and it takes a while to focus, but then it makes his blood turn to ice.

The video trails over what looks like a metal barber's chair from hell and Tony instantly recognises it, from Siberia, from Bucky's UN hearings. It's HYDRA's brainwashing chair and there's someone in it.

The person spouts something in Russian and FRIDAY instantly begins auto-translating, pulling up a series of subtitles. ‘We know you have our Soldier, the one you call Bucky Barnes. But we have something of yours.’

The man in the chair is slumped over unconscious and a gloved hand grabs him by the hair. Tony's stomach lurches when he sees that his hair isn't actually black, it's been matted dark where the electrodes on the chair had burned through his hair, through his skin and his wounds had wept with blood.

The man's face is brought to the light. It's Steve.

‘We want our Asset back. Or we will continue to make a new one,’ the voice says.

Steve's head is released and flops forward. Tony's eyes flick up to Bucky's figure through the glass, the marble of his skin against the bed sheets and the oblivious bliss that radiates off him.

The person filming holds up a switch and says, ‘Hail Hydra.’

They press the switch and Steve's body trembles.

Tony slams the phone down and he puts his head in his hands, trying to erase the memory. His chest tightens, his stomach curls. He breathes. In. Bucky, stirring through the glass. Out.

Hands on his face, one colder than the other. ‘Tony?’

In. ‘Tony, what's wrong?’

The taste of bile in his mouth.

When Tony comes back down to earth, his body aches with exhaustion . Bucky kneels beside him on the ground, hands on Tony's thighs as concern fills his swimming pool eyes. Tony holds his face in his hands, trying not to imagine Bucky in Steve's place (though he had been once a nasty voice tells him), and kisses him.

‘What happened?’ Bucky asks.

Tony needs to tell Bucky about Steve. But he can't. Not yet.

‘I know I said I never wanted to know about what went on between you and Steve,’ Tony begins shakily, ‘but I need to know now. Have you talked to him or any of the Rogues recently?’

Bucky's expression sharpens. ‘What did FRIDAY want you to see, Tony?’

There's a bell going off in Tony's mind and he can’t turn it off. ‘Bucky, please.’

Bucky pulls away from him and leans back to sit on his ankles. ‘He was here, in New York. I saw him three days ago.’

A sharp pain lances through Tony, but he pushes past it. He says, ‘Did he say where he was going next?’

‘Tony, has something happened to Steve?’

Tony picks up his phone and opens up his unread mystery message. It reads: Stark, we need to talk with Bucky. - N

Natasha wouldn't have risked messaging him if she wasn't desperate, Tony realises. His phone rings as he's holding it and Ross' name pops up. In the distance, the lift doors open and Shuri steps out with a face like paper. She approaches them and Tony holds up a hand to her, gesturing for her to not come out.

Bucky’ eyes bore into him, waiting patiently.

‘There's a video,’ Tony begins.

This is going to ruin him, he realises, as he continues to explain the situation to Bucky. Bucky sits still as a statue, a wall coming down over him as the stars wink out of his eyes.

‘When did the video go up?’ he asks.

Tony tells him. Three hours ago. Bucky asks, ‘Do we have an ID on who the Hydra agent is?’

Tony tells him. No.

‘Is he still alive?’ Bucky asks.

Tony hesitates. Then: ‘I don't know.’

Bucky goes silent for a very long time, processing. It's almost like Tony is sitting with a stranger and he can’t recognise the Bucky he's come to know who feels deeply, ferociously - as if he were desperate to make up for his years feeling nothing at all.

‘I want to speak with Natalia,’ he tells Tony, slipping on her name.

Tony nods and hands over his phone, ringing Natasha for him. Bucky rises to his feet, taking it from him, and looks at Tony expectantly. Tony realises with a jolt that Bucky wants him to leave.

He starts, ‘I'll just-’

Bucky nods. Then, he turns away and says into the phone, ‘Nat?’

Tony hears Natasha's voice through the receiver - he would know her low velvety cadence anywhere. For a split second, he burns with something he can only describe as homesickness and leaves them behind as Bucky drifts away from him in a stream of Russian.

He pulls the door shut behind him and turns to Shuri, who is tearing her nails nervously. Tony asks her, ‘You saw the video?’

‘Has he?’ She asks pointedly, her gaze fixated on Bucky's back.

‘He knows about it, but he hasn't seen it yet,’ he says.

‘He can't watch it. It'll break him,’ she says firmly.

Tony sinks down on the couch, running a hand through his hair. ‘He will, though. You know him, he can’t resist torturing himself.’

‘Are we going in to help?’ Shuri asks him.

There is no way in hell the UN or Ross would ever sign off on it. Steve Rogers is a criminal in the eyes of the law and the New Avengers are strictly an emergency task force, the complete opposite of Steve and the Rogues.

If the New Avengers help Steve, they will be done. The Sokovia Accords will be done. Everything that Tony has been working towards, to keep the peace between the world's supers and civilians, will be gone in an instant. And all of them will be thrown in the RAFT for breaching their contract with the UN.

Bucky seems so far away on the balcony, his back a solid wall through the glass. Like an exhibit at a gallery, something Tony isn't allowed to touch.

‘The rest of the Rogues will find him,’ Tony says, if only to convince himself.

Later that day, Tony arranges a meeting with the UN Security Council. Even though Bucky is technically a member of the New Avengers, the meeting is beyond his clearance level. Tony honestly doesn't know what Bucky will do if left alone right now, so he brings him and leaves him with Happy in a lounge.

‘Please don't go anywhere,’ Tony asks him, ‘we're going to figure this out. Together.’

Bucky doesn't say anything. The loud slapping of brogues against marble reach them and Tony turns, greeted by the sight of red-faced Foggy Nelson holding a briefcase before him.

Foggy begins, ‘Sorry, sorry, somebody passed out on the train and I had to run four blocks-’

A low bell rings, the signal for the start of an assembly. Tony says, ‘I'm going in.’

Foggy snaps open his briefcase and pulls out a wad of paper. He holds it out to Tony, who glances through the sheets quickly. His photographic mind burns it all into his mind: the chair, details on its exact specs and the zoom in on splatters of blood across its brutal headrest. Sources to bolster Tony’s case to save Steve Rogers in the UN assembly. It makes his stomach turn and the bell rings again, demanding Tony go inside.

He goes, sweeping through the glass doors to find his seat at the very back. It’s miles away from Ross, who looks more thunderous than usual, and Shuri, whose every feature is a knife and sits before a plaque which reads WAKANDA.

The UN general secretary takes his place at the podium and begins, ‘We have been called here today to discuss Captain Steve Rogers, an Inhuman criminal currently in the hands of Hydra.’

‘Mr Stark, you have the floor,’ the adjudicator tells him.

Tony rises, buttoning up his suit jacket. He announces, ‘Let me start off by saying that I hold no love for Steve Rogers. But in spite of that, nothing changes the fact that Steve Rogers is one of the most powerful inhumans on the planet and a national figurehead regardless of his current criminal status. I'm proposing that the UN authorises a New Avengers mission to track and recover Captain Rogers.'

The room explodes into activity and Tony holds his ground. Or at least tries to. The delegate from Italy, whose predecessor was killed by Bucky while brainwashed, takes his side, while the gentleman from Russia viciously swipes at Tony for being biased. Ross attacks the Russian delegate, accusing his government of having links to Hydra, which is when Japan gets involved and takes Russia's side. Tony tries to stay afloat of it all, but this is beyond even him - he and the New Avengers are just a tool to be deployed by nations.

Thank god Bucky can’t hear them in the soundproofed room, Tony thinks. Arguing about whether or not to save his best friend's life? It's ridiculous that it’s even a debate.

Shuri gives as good as she gets and when Tony runs out of time, he crosses the room to slide Foggy's additional research on Bucky's brainwashing to her. They listen to her more than they do to Tony, as she builds a case for why they need to go for Steve now.

'If Rogers is turned, more will die,' she reminds the room, her voice punching into every word. 'Steve Rogers is faster and stronger than Sergeant Barnes - if we do nothing, then we will have handed Hydra a superweapon. We cannot allow this to stand.'

But even Shuri is steamrolled over by the voices of the bigger nations. Tony knows fifteen minutes into the assembly that there is no way that the New Avengers will ever be allowed to go after Steve - at least not today.

He tries one last time. 'If Steve Rogers falls to Hydra or he dies in the time we've spent arguing like children, it will be a moral failing on the part of this council. We have a chance to stop what happened to Sergeant Barnes and countless others tortured at the hands of Hydra from ever happening again.'

The assembly closes. No decisions are made about whether or not the New Avengers will be sent in to save Steve, which means that they're simply sent home to wait for another assembly to convene tomorrow. When Tony and Shuri approach Bucky in the waiting room, it's difficult to see the hope slide off his face only to be replaced by an unbreakable stillness.

'They're not sending us in, are they?' Bucky asks.

'Not today,' Tony tells him.

Bucky pressed, 'Will they soon?'

Tony swallows. 'I don't know.'

Before Tony can take in Bucky's response, Foggy pulls him aside quietly. Shuri and Bucky go ahead to the car and Foggy waits for a few minutes, clearly trying to make sure Bucky doesn't pick up their conversation with his enhanced hearing.

'You know Bucky's a flight risk, right?' Foggy asks Tony.

With certainty, Tony tells him, ‘It's not a matter of if he'll go, it'll be when. The UN will take at least a week to decide whether or not to send us in, he’ll never wait that long and he shouldn’t have to.'

Foggy rakes a hand through his hair. ‘You also know that you'll be held responsible if he escapes? If you reason with him, he might not go. He listens to you. Or God, stop him with force if you have to. You have those security systems in place, don't you?' Foggy insists.

'He's been a prisoner for the past sixty years. I'm not going to be the one who locks him up again,' Tony says.

In all honesty, Tony never stood a chance at controlling Bucky. Somewhere deep down, he knew that from the very beginning.

'They're going to try and put you in the RAFT. Or at least, keep you from your suit forever,' Foggy predicts.

Tony smiles wryly, 'Well Mr Nelson, I have a feeling I'm going to need a lawyer pretty soon.'

Foggy responds, ‘Yeah, that wouldn’t be a bad idea. You should try and get ahead of this.’

Tony raises an eyebrow at him, waiting for the puzzle to fall into place.

‘Oh! Oh, you want me to represent you,’ Foggy realises suddenly.

‘Yes,’ Tony says impatiently.

‘But you hate me?’ Foggy says in confusion.

Tony clicks his tongue. ‘I don't hate you, Mr. Nelson. But speak down to me again and you'll find yourself off my payroll very quickly.’

‘I am sorry for that, you know. I didn't mean for it to come off the way it did, I just really wanted everything to go well for Bucky and I said something stupid,’ he says sheepishly. ‘I do genuinely respect you and the work you do, Mr. Stark.’

Tony tells him, ‘Even if we got off to a rough start, I do think you’re a damn good lawyer. Call me Tony.’  

Foggy beams. Then his face sobers and he says, ‘I think it’d be for the best if I come over in the next couple of days to talk things over with you.’

‘I think a couple of days might be too late. You free tonight?’ Tony asks.

‘I can make myself available, yes,’ Foggy says. ‘I’ll come by the tower later.’

‘You have my number, call when you’re on your way over,’ Tony tells him.

‘I will do. Tony,’ Foggy says, looking a little starstruck.

Afterwards, Tony tries to speak with Bucky in the car on the way home. The man is silent and withdrawn. He simply nods or shakes his head when asked a question. Even Shuri can't get through to him and in the end, they all just lapse into silence.

They've lost an entire day to stupid politicking, a day that Steve has undoubtedly been tortured and brainwashed, and it seeps like a chill into all of them.

When Bucky steps out on his floor in the lift, Tony goes to follow. Bucky stops him and says, 'I think I want to be on my own right now.'

Tony halts in his tracks, hurt glancing through him. He recovers as quick as he can, saying, 'Are you going to disappear on me if I leave you alone?'

'Why, are you going to throw me in the RAFT if I do?' Bucky asks, every syllable a bullet.

Tony has never known Bucky to be cruel and it shocks him, before the agony of his comment sinks in. But Tony has dealt with brutality before and even though he sees the immediate regret flashing through Bucky's eyes, he speaks before the man can get around to an apology.

'I'm not asking as your prison warden. I’m asking because I’d miss you,' Tony tells him.

The lift doors begin to close and Bucky throws his metal arm across them, keeping them open. Tony can see his swimming pool eyes begin to burn.

'You wanted to be alone, didn't you?' Tony says pointedly.

The lift doors strain against Bucky's arm, FRIDAY's feeble attempt to keep Tony safe. Bucky begins, 'Tony, I-'

'Do what you have to. I don't want to hear about it,' Tony says.

Bucky releases his arm and the doors close. Tony waits until he arrives at his floor and he's in the emptiness of his bare lounge to sink down into his chair, allowing the darkness to settle like sediment in his bones.

Throughout the night, FRIDAY scours the world for even the smallest fragment of information about Steve Rogers. He programmes her to update Natasha with every promising hint FRIDAY finds, keeping the Rogues in the loop without ever having to directly speak to them. Then Foggy comes over and they talk about logistics late into the night.

'If I go to the RAFT, they'll seize my assets. I want to make sure the Maria Stark foundation remains funded if something happens to me and that these programmes continue running,' Tony explains, handing over a list.

Foggy looks over it and goes very quiet. Then he says, 'You're behind all these? Tony, there must be eleven charities here and I had no idea you were involved with any of them.'

Tony knows them by heart. The Charles Spencer Initiative: a charity aimed at helping rebuild Sokovia, named after a boy who died during Ultron who just wanted to help build houses. The Quicksilver Foundation: an international organisation aimed at helping Inhumans struggling to control their powers and their families. P.E.G.I. (Protecting the Equality of Gifted Individuals), an Inhuman Rights movement fighting against discrimination so that Inhumans can live their lives freely. A trust fund for Peter Parker when he turns eighteen, to see him through university. And the list goes on.

Tony says, 'The New Avengers was never about the fighting. I always wanted it to be about what came after. The Rogues and SHIELD were always better at the punching and kicking.'

'I never knew,' Foggy says, still scanning the names on the page.

Tony taps the foundations on the page and says, 'These are the priority. The government still won't fund any Inhuman initiatives, so they all run solely on donations and the Maria Stark money.’

They talk for another hour, coming up with plans of action. When Foggy gets up to go at three AM in the morning, he says goodbye and gives Tony a hug - an exceptional moment of bravery.

‘You’re a fool,’ Foggy tells him, ‘and the world still needs you.’

Tony awkwardly pats his back. Unsure of what to say, he tells him simply, ‘Thank you.’

The next morning, Bucky is still there. Tony doesn’t go downstairs to see him, but leaves for another gruelling day of debate that leads nowhere. Every hour, FRIDAY updates him quietly that Bucky is still in the Tower.

On the way home, Tony’s phone buzzes with a second video of Steve. He forces himself to watch it with Shuri and watches as Steve’s body shudders and breaks in the chair, how the man manages to open his eyes and mumbles incoherently. It’s a small mercy he’s still alive at least. Shuri leaves, a troubled expression on her face as she rings her brother.

Not long after that, FRIDAY informs Tony that Bucky is requesting access to his floor. Tony steels himself for the encounter and lets him up.

Bucky looks nearly as bad as he did when Tony first found him, his face gaunt and his blue eyes dull as winter slush. Like the very first time, he lingers by the doorway and refuses to traverse the space between them. He simply tells Tony, ‘I need to talk to Ross.’

Whatever Tony was expecting, that wasn’t it. He asks, ‘Why?’

‘I want to be transferred to a military holding facility,’ Bucky tells him.

‘You want to move out of the tower?’ Tony asks in shock, feeling a spike of anxiety lance through him.

‘Temporarily,’ Bucky says.

‘But why?’ Tony asks, feeling the desperation start to set in. ‘I know we haven’t been on the best terms recently and that things are difficult with Steve, but if we just talk it over-’

Bucky finally goes to him. With extreme gentleness, he takes Tony into his arms and tells him quietly, ‘I have to go to Steve, Tony. And I don’t want you to be held accountable when I break out and do.’

Tony breathes in deeply, smelling the soap on his skin and the tobacco of his cigarettes. He says, ‘If you just wait a few more days, the UN-’

‘I can’t wait, Tony. It’s Steve,’ Bucky tells him.

It feels like everything was going to lead up to this. From Bucky coming to Tony’s front door that fateful day to the quiet moments spent in one another’s arms, at some point Bucky was always going to have to make a decision. Not between Steve and Tony, but between Steve and the life Bucky had fought so hard to build for himself.

‘If you go, I don’t know if you’ll be allowed back,’ Tony tells him.

‘I know. And that’s why this is one of the hardest decisions I have ever had to make. But I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I knew Steve had been turned or killed by Hydra while I was waiting for permission,’ Bucky says.

Tony doesn’t know what to say. He simply stares helplessly back at Bucky.

‘Tony,’ Bucky begins, ‘will you please call Ross for me?’

Inevitably, he does.

Bucky plays Ross like a violin, telling the man on the phone that he’s worried about his safety in case Hydra come for him. He holds Tony’s hand as he lies to Ross and says that he would feel more secure with the US military protecting him. Ego stroked, Ross agrees immediately to arrange for him to be brought to a safe location.

When it's done, Bucky and Tony sit in silence. Bucky’s thumb traces promises into the back of Tony's hand.

‘Thank you,’ Bucky tells him.

The words land like first snow between them. Tony knows that rationally, these could be their very last moments and that he should be treasuring them. They should be confessing their love for one another, falling into bed for a final night of raucous passion - somebody should be setting off fireworks.

Instead, Tony can feel the telltale twist of his stomach, the bitter melody of his heart thrumming against the bones in his chest.

‘Tony,’ Bucky begins, his murmur tinged with desperation. ‘Please.’

Tony finally says, ‘You need to go now before I do something stupid, like ask you to stay.’

Bucky tells him, ‘I can't. I want to, but I can't.’

‘Then you need to go.’

Bucky’s voice is hoarse, he pulls him close. Tony smells tobacco on his skin, he hears his stilted breaths.

Bucky begs, ‘Tony, please, I can't. Please don't do this, this can't be it-’

‘I know you're doing what you need to,’ Tony tells him, ‘and I need to do the same.’

Bucky presses kisses against Tony's cheeks, his eyelids, his lips. He feels Bucky's wet eyelashes ghost across his face as the man manages, ‘Tony, I can't leave you like this.’

Tony pulls away from Bucky. ‘Then I will.’

He steps onto the launch platform and the Iron Man suit rises like a goddess to meet him, embracing him in sheaves of red and gold. Tony leaves Bucky behind without even a goodbye, spiralling up into the clouds where the man will never be able to reach him.

Chapter Text

Bucky has never had his heart broken before. He wasn’t looking for love in alleyways or in barracks when he was younger - then the war had made it practically impossible, despite Steve and Peggy’s odds. When he had fallen from the train and his mind was no longer his own, love in all its forms had been burned out of him.

Bucky thinks he would rather take a bullet or hell, even lose another limb, over this. Wounds heal. This yawning emptiness, his claustrophobic empty bed, his mind’s stupid way of associating the tiniest thing with him - this is something different. 

Tony doesn’t come back the day after their fight on the top of the tower and Bucky knows he’s not going to come back, not until he’s gone. And so Bucky spends his last hour on his knees in the bathroom to clean up before he goes, scrubbing the same tile with blurry eyes until he cracks it.

‘Would you like me to call the Boss so you can say goodbye?’ FRIDAY asks gently.

Bucky inhales deeply, rising up onto his knees. He scrubs his face, grabs his toothbrush and says, ‘No. I think we covered that yesterday. Did he…did he leave any messages?’

‘I’m afraid not, Sergeant Barnes,’ she tells him, and genuinely sounds sorry.

Bucky steps back into his borrowed home, feet curling on the carpet as he drinks it in for the last time. The leaves outside sway, the light stutters over the sapphire couch. A dark ring sits on the edge of the coffee table, the unbearable ghost of Tony’s presence and his refusal to use a coaster. Bucky wipes it away, tossing the used paper towel in the bin afterwards.

‘I would like to remind you that Ross has been waiting downstairs for ten minutes,’ FRIDAY tells him, a lamp flashing to indicate her non-presence. He’d started asking her to do that over time, it made him feel like he was actually talking to somebody and not just a machine.

‘Yeah. Yeah, I’m coming down now,’ he says, grabbing his duffel, rifle case and the box from under his bed. Steve’s shield clatters against the wood, desperate to be used.

‘Do you need me to do anything? Leave the key card somewhere, or whatever,’ Bucky says awkwardly.

‘Not at all, Sergeant Barnes. I wish you all the best,’ she tells him.

Bucky resists the totally bizarre urge to hug the lamp goodbye and instead, he says, ‘Thanks for everything. Tell Tony…well. Never mind.’

He barely even hears what Ross says to him before he’s bundled into an armoured vehicle. The truck and their escort of several sleek vehicles sets off. Bucky’s adrenaline begins pumping, he goes through his escape plan for the fifth time. 

He’s never going to get a better opportunity than this one to escape while they’re in transit. The moment it sounds like they're out of the main city, he's going to make his escape. Less civilian impact.

Ross talks at him for a few minutes as they set off, then eventually lapses into silence. Bucky watches as the lights of New York wink out behind them, giving way to bridges and signposts and gigantic highways. He once dreamed of taking off and running across them, until his body gave out and let him start again. Now, his body is a bowstring pulled taut ready to be loosed back into the abyss. 

Bucky glances over at Ross, only to realise that the man has been watching him. Ross leans back on the metal bench and says, 'I know you're going to try to make a break for it, Barnes.'

Bucky swallows. His hand itches for his gun.

'I’m not an idiot, despite whatever Stark thinks. And I think both Stark and I will probably agree that you’re the idiot in this situation. Don’t throw all your progress away,’ Ross says. 

'Tony has nothing to do with any of this,' Bucky says immediately.

Ross raises an eyebrow. 'I think Tony has everything to do with this.'

This is it, Bucky thinks dizzily. He needs to escape before Ross raises the alarm. But: 'I’m not dragging him into this."

Ross hums. 'Well, I'm glad we both agree on that front.'

The truck pulls to a halt. Bucky rises to his feet, preparing for a fight as the back doors of the van are thrown open.

A one eyed man in a trench coat stands there, his mouth upturned in a smirk. Ross greets him, 'Fury.'

Fury nods in responds and turns to Bucky. He says, 'I heard you were planning something pretty stupid, Barnes.'

Bucky rears to his full height. 'Are you here to stop me?'

Over his shoulder, Bucky sees a lithe red headed woman with a smile like a knife step out of a car. A man dressed in an air force uniform and a permanent scowl joins her. Natalia and Tony's friend, Colonel James Rhodes.

'No. We'd like to help,' Fury tells him.

When Tony and Shuri return to the tower, they wordlessly climb into the lift together. The first thing Shuri does is punch in the button for Bucky's floor and they both listlessly wait for the doors to open.

They finally slide open and it's a punch to the gut. Shuri takes Tony's arm and murmurs, 'Come.'

He does, following her wordlessly. She sits him down on the couch and busies herself making a pot of tea. Tony asks finally, 'FRIDAY, when did he leave?'

'About four hours ago, boss,' she responds.

Tony hears Shuri clatter about the kitchen, every movement more forceful than it needs to be.

He continues, 'Did he leave a message or anything?'

'No. I got the impression that he felt a message would not be welcomed,' FRIDAY says.

Shuri comes over and lays out the teapot and cups before them, waiting for the leaves to steep. She notices Bucky's stray plastic lighter and picks it up.

She says, 'He's going to be so pissed that he left his lighter behind.'

They both stare at the tiny yellow lighter. Then, Shuri begins to snicker - an infectious sound that soon affects Tony. In just a few moments, they're both laughing hysterically over the dumb lighter and can't stop themselves.

'He's going to be out there for hours, going insane because he can't have a smoke,' Tony says, his stomach hurting.

Shuri laughs even harder at that, until she can't anymore. Her fingers tighten around the lighter and soon, her laughter catches on a small choked out gasp. She presses her hands and the lighter over her eyes, her giggles giving way to tears and Tony puts an arm around her.

'I know,' he tells her. 'I know.'

'He was doing so well,' she tells him. 'And he was so looking forward to being a New Avenger. The UN will never let him now.'

Tony's mouth sets into a grim line. He rubs his hand in circles on her back.

'We were going to be such an amazing team,' she says.

Tony nods and says, 'We were. We were going to be better than the old one.'

She inhales sharply and sits up, wiping at the tears on her face. She continues crying as she pours out the tea and wipes her face dry on the sleeve of her sweater, trying to speak rationally as she continues, 'What do we do now then?'

Tony blinks. 'What, you want to stay on with the NA?'

'Of course I do. I didn't join just because of Bucky, you know. I joined because of you,' she tells him.

A weight Tony doesn't realise he had been carrying lifts. He struggles for what to say, so he doesn’t say anything at all.

‘I’m still a princess, though. I won’t have you bossing me around for the hell of all of it,' she says, then adds with a smile, ‘Boss.’

'You'll be operating under SHIELD's jurisdiction for this mission,' Ross informs Bucky. 'To the rest of the world, you'll be taking a break from the New Avengers to undergo a course of intensive rehabilitation in a secure military facility.'

'I don't understand. Are you telling me to go after Steve?' Bucky asks Ross.

Ross puts on a pair of sunglasses. 'I'm not telling you anything, Sergeant Barnes. And if you're caught and say so, myself and the US military will deny any knowledge of any operation. So I'd advise strongly that you stay out of the limelight if you ever want to rejoin the NA.'

Ross points at Rhodey as well. 'And the same goes for you, you hear? I don't want to see your picture on my desk.'

Bucky stares. 'I could come back?'

'Potentially. But you can't tell any of the New Avengers about this and they can't be involved in any way. This does not touch Tony or the princess, do you understand me?' Ross grinds out.

It leaves a bitter taste in the back of Bucky's throat, but having the carrot dangled in front of him is enough of an incentive. He and Tony had once been at a point where there were no secrets between them. Now, he's having to keep so many to protect him.

'I'm going to get back into the truck and as far as the rest of the world knows, you're barfing or whatever it is Tony had you doing. And it better stay that way,' Ross tells him.

Bucky nods and says, 'Understood. And thank you, sir. This means a lot.'

Ross runs a hand over his own jaw and says tiredly, 'Don't screw this up, Barnes. We're all putting our necks out for this one.'

He nods at Fury, salutes in the distance to Rhodes and then slips into the back of the military vehicle.

Ross barks at Fury, 'Make sure he doesn't get into trouble.'

Fury smirks. 'No guarantees, but you'll never hear about it.'

'This man gets it,' Ross says. 'Goodbye, Sergeant Barnes. Don’t blow it.'

Ross slams the doors shut and rolls out with his escort. Bucky turns to watch him leave and raises his metal arm to wave goodbye. Then, he turns to Fury and swallows.

'I'm glad to see you're alive,' Bucky tells him, gearing himself up for an apology.

Fury's single eye narrows. 'Save it, Barnes. You tried to kill me once, you didn't and now we're on the same side. I don't hold it against you and this is the last I want to hear of it. I don't do that weepy Tony Stark shit, so save your apology.'

'Uh. Okay,' Bucky says, too floored by his bluntness to be overcome by guilt.

'Now get your ass in gear, Barnes. We're losing daylight,' Fury tells him, striding towards the car.

Natasha greets him by kissing him on both cheeks, then she takes a couple of his bags and throws them into the overcrowded boot. Rhodey doesn't say anything, but instead just glares at Bucky the whole time - which makes sharing a backseat with him awkward as hell. The supermarket bag tote sits between them on the spare seat, an innocuous yet insurmountable wall.

Bucky begins, 'I think we've met once before. I'm-'

'I know who you are. I'm only here because Tony would lose it if something happened to you,' Rhodey states.

Bucky feels his heart swell at the man's name, then deflate again at his absence. He swallows and fights down the stab of pain, glancing away from Rhodey so he doesn't see the expression on his face.

'Well, thanks for being here,' Bucky tells him anyway.

Rhodey looks at him incredulously, then folds his arms over his chest and grunts out, 'I'm going to sleep. Wake me up when something interesting happens.'

As Rhodes sleeps and Natasha drives, Fury fills Bucky in on the situation. He explains, 'Based on all the intel we have, we think Rogers was snatched last Wednesday in the United States near Boston.'

Bucky inhales. 'That's the same day he came to see me in New York.'

'We know. He was camping out in a warehouse, then there was a struggle that left three Hydra agents dead. Steve put up a good fight,' Natasha adds.

Bucky glances at the shield on the floor before him. If Steve had had it-

'Our intel has led us to believe that Steve has been moved out of the United States to a Hydra base in South America. The bastards took a stealth plane to Rio. Hawkeye and Falcon are already down there scoping out the situation, but we've got shit all as we think he might have been moved to another location,' Fury continues.

Bucky leans forward and asks Natasha in Russian, 'You ever been stationed in South America? '

'I think so, but they burned a lot of locations out of my mind when I defected from the Red Room. I want to say they had an active base in Argentina? ' she says.

Bucky's memories float before them like a spectre, half actualised. He says, 'There was definitely a major Hydra base, we used it a lot during the civil war. And several safe houses and a smaller base for the scientists. They kept the chair there .'

'And can we trust your intel? You've both been out of commission for a while and I'd say your memories are questionable at best,' Fury says. Of course the man knows Russian.

Bucky needs a cigarette. He's almost tempted to roll down the window and puff away but as he pats down his pockets for his lighter, he realises he left it behind with a grimace. He says instead, 'Whatever Tony and Shuri were doing helped me recover lost memories, gain new perspective on them. I'm not 100% certain of the ones I do remember, but I'm pretty confident.'

Fury scowls. 'That's still a big margin for error.'

'They want to trade me for Steve, right? Why don't we just set up an exchange?' Bucky says.

Natasha rounds on him and grounds out, 'No. Barnes, we are not handing you over to Hydra.'

'It would be easier than combing every base in South America,' Bucky points out.

'Even if we hand you over, we can't trust Hydra to hand over Steve. No negotiating with terrorists, isn't that the American way?' Natasha says, turning to Fury.

'We can't risk Hydra having two super soldiers on their roster. I'm sure you and Stark have made a lot of progress in that vomit room of his, but I'm not risking it,' Fury agrees.

Bucky fights down his irritation and says, 'Well then, we're going to go through a lot of intel.'

The car strikes a pothole and jerks Rhodes awake. The man grumbles and folds his arms over his chest, eyeing the rest of the car like criminals, before sighing.

'Have we figured out a plan then?' Rhodey asks.

'If you helped Colonel, it might go quicker,' Natasha responds.

Rhodey looks at her in disgust. He opens his mouth as though to snap something back, then throws his hands up and thinks better of it.

'I don't know why you're taking so long, it's a simple extraction. Tony's already pinpointed his location, so let's haul ass to Chile,' Rhodey grumbles.

Fury actually stops the car. 'Stark's done what now?'

Rhodey's look of disgust expands its range, sucking Fury into it. He says, 'He said he'd been sending the intel to Natasha and Clint.'

Natasha stares stonily ahead as every head in the car turns to face her.

'Are you Rogues so arrogant that you just...ignored FRIDAY and Tony's intel?' Rhodey says, his syllables knife sharp.

Natasha finally has the decency to look embarrassed. She says, 'He's signed the Accords and there's bad blood between us.'

'Natasha, what the fuck?' Fury demands.

Bucky finally starts to understand what Tony had been dealing with the previous Avengers. His heart aches for him.

'Did you really think Tony would sabotage a rescue mission to save Captain America? Steve put a god damn shield through his chest and he's doing more for the man than you are,' Rhodey snaps. 'Tony isn't here because he doesn't want to be. He isn't here because other people are depending on him.'

'We don't know if we can trust his intel,' Natasha repeats.

'Are you crazy? He's literally handed you Steve's location and he forced me to come and help,' Rhodey says. 'You should be ashamed of yourself, Tony's risking everything on this. Get over yourselves.'

Bucky swallows, his mouth dry. He really needs a cigarette. Rhodey catches his eye and Bucky braces himself, waiting for a barrage.

'I'm not counting you in this, Barnes. You only just got here, but I'm pissed at you for other reasons,' Rhodey mutters.

Rhodey's words strike him like a nail with every syllable and he feels Tony's absence like another passenger in the car. Natasha doesn't say anything, she just stares stonily ahead of her.

'When we found out Steve was missing,' Bucky breaks the silence, 'the first thing Tony did was petition for the UN to send us in to save Steve. He was still fighting for it when I left. He hasn't abandoned him.'

She begins, 'You don't understand, Bucky. You don't know him like we do.'

Before Rhodey can flip out, Bucky puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder. He says, 'You didn’t know him at all. But if you won't trust his info, then at least let me look over it so I can cross reference it. You owe Steve that.'

Rhodey shrugs off Bucky's hand and glares out the window. Natasha is dead silent. Then, she reaches down and yanks - of all things - a StarkPad out his bag and holds it out to Bucky

The irony isn't lost on anybody in the car, but they leave it where it hangs between them. Fury tells him, 'Go through the doc. It'll take us half an hour to get to the flight pad.'

'I'm telling you, he's in Chile,' Rhodey grumbles.

Bucky shoots him a meaningful look, as if to say he knows. It mollifies Rhodey slightly and he puts his arms down, sighing.

'Put on the radio, then. I can't stand talking to the rest of you,' Rhodey says.

'Gladly,' Natasha responds with a little too much bite, stabbing a button.

A weepy Ed Sheeran song comes on instantly. Rhodey says, 'Christ, just shoot me instead.'

Tony falls asleep in Bucky's bed that evening, imagining the warmth on the other side of the bed and the hint of tobacco in the bed linen. He wakes the next morning after the sun is already high in the sky and sits up gingerly, holding his palm to his throbbing head as the light spills in through the balcony window.

Shuri is there, pottering about with a jug of water that she uses to water the gigantic cheese plant by the television. She turns and jumps when she realises he's up.

'My goodness, did I wake you? I was trying to be quiet,' she says guiltily. 'I didn't realise you were here and Bucky always watered his plants on Saturdays so...'

Tony shakes his head, smoothing a hand over the sheets. 'No, you're good. I probably had to wake up anyway.'

In all honesty, he's glad he didn't have to wake up alone. After spending the last two weeks falling asleep alongside a supersoldier, the solitary night before had been difficult enough. Tony had gone for so long without sleeping beside somebody but sharing a bed with Bucky had reminded him just how much he had craved companionship. Tony has the AA token to prove just how bad he is at being alone.

'Tea? I've got a pot going,' Shuri asks him.

He'd never admit it, but there have been days he's reached for her rooibos before a cup of coffee. He nods and crawls out of bed, dressed in nothing but a pair of boxers, and curls up on the couch. Shuri pours him a mug and he takes it gratefully.

'I miss him too,' she tells Tony.

Tony simply nods. She kisses him on the top of his head and returns to the watering, tackling the pothos trailing from a hanging pot.

He doesn't really feel like talking and she talks at him instead, filling the silence with her mellow voice. Tony inhales sharply and has to catch himself, blinking rapidly as his eyes glaze over at a moment's notice. She puts a show on the television and Tony watches it aimlessly. Pepper and Happy bring breakfast for them at around 10 and when she sees him, she sighs.

'How long has he been sitting there feeling sorry for himself?' Pepper asks Shuri, setting down a bag full of pancakes.

Shuri crosses the room, kissing her on both cheeks and doing the same to Happy (who flushes). Shuri says, 'About half an hour.'

'I'm allowed to mope if I want to,' Tony grumbles.

Pepper puts a loving hand on his shoulder and tells him, 'No, you can't. The CIA and military want to meet SI and they've asked to talk specifically to us at 11:30.'

Tony scrubs a tired hand over his face. 'We have the UN meeting at 2, do you think it’s going to run over?'

She tells him, 'It might. It's with Everett and Ross, they said it was important.'

Tony's blood runs cold and he glances at Shuri, who looks similarly pale. It must be about Bucky, he thinks. But then they wouldn't have asked Pepper to come as well.

'Did they say what it was about?' He asks her evenly.

She shakes her head and says, 'All they said was that it was some potential CIA and/or military contract. I ran them our whole spiel about no longer developing weaponry, but they've insisted it's got nothing to do with that.'

Tony is intrigued and that's enough to get him up. Foggy arrives then, holding a tray of coffees, and he double takes at the sight of Tony in nothing but his underwear. His eyes bounce around the room, trying to fixate on anywhere but Tony's bare scarred chest.

To put him out of his misery, Tony swipes a coffee and says, 'I'm taking a shower and that means no peeking, Nelson.'

Sputtering, Foggy says, 'Peeking? Tony, I'm straight and happily engaged and I-'

Tony waves off his protests and swans off into the shower. The hot water flushes his skin pink and helps him reset, then there's a soft knock at the door. He pauses then says, 'Nelson, what did I just tell you?'

'I've got clothes for you,' Pepper tells him, her voice muffled. 'I'll leave them for you by the door.'

He finishes finally and changes, putting on a look that is quintessential Pepper: impeccable, professional and poised to kill. He adjusts his collared top and slacks before slipping back out, raking a hand through his wet hair to air dry.

When he emerges from the bathroom, Happy has made a plate up for him covered in pancakes and bacon, Pepper has made him a cup of coffee and Shuri is quietly making the bed in the corner with Foggy. Tony thinks back to just under a year ago when he had been driving himself to death, wasting away in isolation in the tower.

He knows everybody in this room is here because they're worried about him. In the past, Tony would probably have forced them all to leave. But he's a different person now after meeting Bucky. He isn't too proud to not be grateful anymore.

'Everybody,' he says, clearing his throat. 'Uh. This means a lot.'

Shuri loops her arm through his and kisses him on the cheek. 'You are very welcome. Now, come sit down and eat with us.'

Once Tony is ready to face the world, he, Happy and Pepper slip off to meet Everett and Ross. They're taken to Everett's office at the CIA headquarters and ushered in after a ton of security, then find themselves in Everett's boring old office. Tony sits down, glancing around in disdain, and Pepper throws him a warning glance.

'Coffee, anybody?' Everett asks, heading over to a beat up old machine in the corner.

Tony doesn't trust it. He shakes his head - a first for him - and Pepper also politely declines. Ross sweeps into the room moments later, puffing his chest up as he spots him.

'Stark,' he greets him. 'Miss Potts.'

Pepper rises to her feet and kisses him on the cheek, saying, 'It's good to see you again, general. Now, please don’t waste our time.'

It throws Ross off his game and he flushes, choking on his next sentence before simply sitting down in the armchair in the corner. It's beautiful to watch.

'Well, you might be wondering why you're here. We'll just cut to the chase - we know how effective B.A.R.F. has been for Sergeant Barnes and we're interested to know if the technology is for sale,' Everett says, leaning forwards.

Tony's mind leaps forwards, pivots inevitably to its destructive capabilities. In the wrong hands, somebody could be forced to relive their trauma on end, spill their darkest memories against their will, give away top secret information.

He thinks of the quiet moments spent with his parents by a piano and curling over Bucky like a blanket. He hates it.

'B.A.R.F. may have been created by Tony, but it's not a Stark Industries product. It would be up to Tony if he wants to sell the technology,' Pepper informs them, leaving the decision in Tony's hands.

Tony says, 'I'm not militarising B.A.R.F. and that's final.'

Everett mutters to Ross, 'Just tell him, sir.'

'Tell me what?' Tony asks.

Ross throws daggers Everett's way, who hardly even cowers. Ross clears his throat and folds his hands over his chest.

'Do you remember that Sokovian kid from the bombing? The one you talked down?' Ross asks.

Tony nods. 'Sasha Petrov. He's part of our Charles Spencer programme.'

'He was put in the same chair that Sergeant Barnes was. As well as his sister and a number of Sokovian refugees,' Everett continues.

Tony feels ill just hearing it. He doesn't say anything as the fury mounts within him, as Pepper puts a steadying hand on his knee.

'After speaking to a number of former Hydra operatives, we've estimated there are at least a hundred victims that have been brainwashed and subjected to the chair - all of them Inhuman. Apparently they experimented with regular humans, but it didn't end well for any of them,' Ross explains.

Everett says, 'We've had trouble helping those we've freed break out of their programming, even with the help of our best military psychologists. We understand you've made significant progress with Sergeant Barnes in that regard, even if he is currently in the RAFT for more intensive rehabilitation.'

Tony doesn't react. He does however notice Ross shift uncomfortably in the corner.

'We did, yes. So what are you asking? You want to use B.A.R.F. to help these people?' Tony asks.

'Essentially, yes. But we also think that the technology has major potential to help many veterans with PTSD,' Everett tells him.

Tony feels his indignant anger ebb a little. He still doesn't feel comfortable handing over B.A.R.F., but he's softening. He remembers the terror in Sasha's eyes, Bucky's quiet determination to get better and the way Steve had trembled in the chair. And the way that Steve had wandered the tower like a spectre the year after he had been thawed out of the ice.

'I'm not handing over B.A.R.F. to either of you,' Tony says stubbornly.

Ross begins heatedly, 'Stark, you-'

'I don't trust the military or CIA not to weaponise it. But I think I'm willing to move forwards with our Howling Commandos operation, Pep, Nelson,' Tony tells her.

'Really? We still need to finesse the details,' Foggy says in surprise.

Tony nods and Everett leans back in his chair. Pepper begins, 'We were planning to create more B.A.R.F. units and set them up at major public hospitals across the country under the New Avengers banner. But the plan is currently a few years away as we're trying to figure out the logistics.'

'Vetted mental health professionals and Stark Industries approved technicians would oversee the units, so not just anybody would be able to use them. But ideally, any member of the public would be able to apply for treatment,' Tony explains.

Ross' eyebrows leap to his hairline. 'And how long have you been working on this?'

'Pretty much ever since B.A.R.F. was created,' Tony explains. 'How quickly can we move up the timeline, Nelson?'

Foggy frowns and thinks. He says, 'We can push it up maybe a year or so, if we start with a smaller roll out. So a few months.'

'In the meantime, I'm happy to give the most urgent cases access to a beta unit in SI if they come with a registered psychologist,' Tony says, crossing his legs.

Ross frowns. 'You'd do that?'

Tony waves him off and says, 'I’m not a monster, Ross. I’m not going to hog lifesaving technology. We all know what Bucky went through.'

Pepper puts a steadying hand on Tony's knee. He looks down at it, then realises she's done it because his eyes are glazed over, his throat thick with emotion.

'We appreciate it, Mr Stark,' Everett says.

Tony shrugs. 'Just doing my part.’

Once Bucky and Rhodey manage to convince Natasha that it's worth pursuing Tony's lead, things move at a breakneck pace. They board a stealth plane in the middle of nowhere and as the ramp lowers, a man dressed in midnight purple leather greets them with a grin.

Before the ramp has fully locked, he runs down the staircase and barrels into Bucky for a brotherly hug. Bucky catches him with a bemused smile, then winces as Clint punches him in the arm.

'Good to have you back on the right side, Barnes,' Clint tells him. 'Always knew we’d get the band back together eventually.'

The words sit uncomfortably with Bucky. He says, 'I'm just here to help find Steve.'

Clint doesn't seem to be listening and when he looks at Rhodey, the man glowers back. Clint asks Natasha, 'What the hell is he doing here? He's one of Tony's, isn't he?'

'I'm not here because I like you either, Barton,' Rhodey responds.

'Then why the hell are you here?' Clint demands. 'You here to rat us out to your tin man overlord and throw us all in the RAFT again? Nat, that man is not getting on my plane.’

Rhodey's eyes narrow and before Rhodey can say anything, Bucky says, 'I'm not getting on it unless he does.’

‘He’s a snake, Bucky,’ Clint tells him.

Wanda Maximoff appears at the top of the ramp, hellfire burning in her gaze. She eyes up Rhodes suspiciously and Bucky can feel Rhodey tensing beside him, his fingers twitching for his suit.

‘Everybody, I am going to say this once and one time only,’ Bucky calls out. ‘And Sam and Vis, if you’re in there, you get out here too.’

After a couple of moments, Vision phases through the metal and Sam pokes his head out.

‘If you have a problem with Colonel Rhodes, you have a problem with me. I’m vouching for him and I’m vouching for Tony. You understand?’ Bucky drills out.

‘Jesus Christ,’ Clint mutters.

Bucky rounds on him. ‘I’m not fucking around here, Barton.’

A silence thick with tension falls across all of them. Nobody dares say a word.

‘Good. Now, let’s go save Steve,’ Bucky says.

After a beat, he adds, ‘Also, I missed all of you.’

Natasha watches him with an odd look that Bucky truly doesn’t want to decipher and Clint stomps away up the ramp. Vision floats towards them, cape billowing.

‘Colonel Rhodes. It is a relief to see you healthy and well again,’ Vision says, holding his hands out.

‘Don’t talk to me, Jarvis. You’re the worst of them,’ Rhodes tells him pointedly.

Vision pauses, then inclines his head. He retreats back into the ship from whence he came and Bucky sees Wanda lay a reassuring hand against the small of his back, steering him back into the cabin. Sam is the only one to greet Bucky with a warm hug and pulls back with a small smile on his face.

‘Good to see you, Buck,’ he tells him.

Sam and Bucky have talked intermittently through messages relayed by Shuri, as he’s been helping devise and tweak Bucky’s treatment plan with his professional expertise. Out of everyone here, he’s the only one that knows the extent of what Tony has truly done for him.

‘Colonel,’ Sam continues, greeting Rhodes with a little salute.

Rhodes inclines his head, obviously still rattled by what just happened. Sam brings them in and the ramp lifts abruptly as Clint angrily flips switches and Natasha runs her hands over his shoulders patiently, murmuring to him in a language Bucky can’t parse. Spanish, maybe.

‘I have to go and make sure Hawkeye doesn’t crash the plane, but it’s good to see you. You look good man, like well and truly good,’ Sam tells him.

Bucky smiles. ‘I’m getting there. I’ll be better once we find Steve.’

‘Just grab a seat anywhere, guys. It’ll be a few hours, so you might want to rest up,’ Sam says.

Rhodey immediately grabs the seat closest to the door, eyeing the rest of the plane warily. After a beat, Bucky puts his bags down and sits next to him.

‘You didn’t need to stand up for me, you know,’ Rhodey tells him, ‘but I do appreciate it.’

‘You’re welcome,’ Bucky says. ‘I respect you for coming, you must have known you’d be jumping into a difficult situation and you did it anyway.’

‘I did it for Tony. I’m mainly supposed to be here to help you all find Steve, but really I think I’m here to keep you out of trouble. He likes you more than he should,’ Rhodey says.

Bucky can’t resist smiling at that. ‘And I like him as much as I should.’

Rhodey casts a curious look his way, then leans back in his chair. He says, ‘You know, this doesn’t change anything. I’m still mad at you.’

‘Believe me, if it wasn’t for Steve, nothing would be able to drag me away from his tower,’ Bucky tells him more honestly than he should. 

Rhodey assesses him. Then he says, ‘I'll believe you. For now.’

Bucky glances around the room and notices the rest of the Rogues watching him like a wounded animal, as though he’ll suddenly lash out and bite their heads off for one wrong comment.  They leave him a wide berth and after Rhodes falls asleep, Bucky thinks about Tony and his heart aches.

They arrive in Chile and things move with military precision after that. Thanks to Tony's intel, they know everything: the name of the abandoned building they're keeping Steve in, its entrances and exits, the quickest way to the roof. The Rogues move like the same organism after that - completely attuned to one another as they sweep the building.

Bucky and Rhodey stick together, wary of disrupting the Rogues' synchronicity. Natasha orders them to check out another part of the facility as everybody splits off down different corridors and Bucky leads, mowing down grunts as Rhodey covers him with little comets of repulsor energy. All the while, Bucky breathes and breathes through the mounting pressure in his skull, the tinnitus chimes of memory.

They throw open a door to find a group waiting for them and Bucky has to tackle Rhodey to the ground as bullets rain over them. Before the man even has time to recover, Bucky has already thrown himself into the fray.

As he launches in to punch one of the soldiers, she shouts wildly into his face, 'Rust!'

Bucky's arm falters, but he pushes past his instincts and programming to nail him with a ferocious upper cut. It wasn't just a glitch though, as every person he comes across knows his activation string and he can feel every phrase trying to chip away at him. When the room is finally clear, he has to put his hand on a counter for support and squeezes his eyes shut to recollect himself.

He thinks of Steve, strapped to a chair somewhere as electricity thunders through him. Bucky grits his teeth and turns to Rhodes, who is watching him warily.

'Those words they keep shouting at you. They're your triggers, right?' Rhodey asks him.

Bucky doesn't respond. He's too focused on his whirlpooling brain.

'Tony mentioned them,' Rhodey says, his voice level and calming, 'that's why I'm here. He wanted someone to be there for you, in case you backslid.'

Bucky nods, unable to do anything else. He says, ‘I’ll be fine.’

He’s shocked to realise that for once in his life, he actually means it.

Tony begins plotting out a pilot programme of technicians and therapists with Pepper, Foggy and the Rosses help. One afternoon, Tony's phone begins blowing up with alerts from FRIDAY about rumblings in Chile and his heart leaps to his scrambling fingertips. A minute later, Ross and Everett's phones do the exact same thing and Ross mutters, 'We need to have a serious talk about the fact that Stark gets classified intel faster than we do.'

Tony scans the news, sees bullet points about thirty two missing people from twelve different countries suddenly resurfacing in Chile - each with the same weeping wounds burned into the side of their head as Steve had in his video. The names roll on and Tony identifies more than a couple that were on his long list for the New Avengers; then he realises all of them are Inhuman.

Everett eyes both Ross and Tony. 'Thirty two Inhumans suddenly appear in Chile, led to safety by air force Colonel James Rhodes. Either of you wouldn't happen to know anything about this would you?'

An encrypted message from Rhodey arrives. Tony presses his thumb to his phone's home button and the message unscrambles, reading, 'Worse than we thought. 33 kidnapped and brainwashed by Hydra, facility had just under forty guards in it including one of Bucky's. Faced off against Steve, he escaped. Tried to kill Bucky.'

'Is Bucky okay?' Tony writes back immediately, his heart a million miles away.

'Steve did a number on his metal arm. Some scrapes but okay. Very distraught,' Rhodes responds.

'Care to share with the class, Stark?' Ross asks.

'Somebody needs to assess the mental health of Hydra's victims. They'll need help deprogramming,' Tony explains.

Everett nods and says, 'We have an operative on the scene assessing the situation.'

'We do too,' Ross pipes up, not to be outdone.

'Cool, so we all have rats in the Rogues. Funny that, and yet no one's brought them in,' Tony comments idly, then glances at his watch. 'If it turns out that the victims are too far gone with the programming, I can arrange for them to be housed temporarily in the Avengers old training facility and set up B.A.R.F. there to help with the recovery.'

'We can't bring them to the United States,' Ross says, ‘They need to go somewhere less high profile, we're barely keeping the public on the New Avengers side as it is.'

Tony leans back in his chair, resisting the urge to throw something very sharp and very blunt at Ross' head. He says, 'Well, they're all going to need to get help from someone and somewhere.'

Tony's phone begins to ring and Shuri's face flashes up. He raises a hand and picks it up, which puts a massive scowl on Ross' face.

'Shuri, honey. What's happening?' He asks her.

She says, 'The Rogues and everybody they broke out of Hydra's base are claiming asylum in Wakanda. My brother is giving it to them.'

'They're on their way there now then?' Tony asks.

'They were already en route before T'Challa even said yes. Sometimes these Rogues take too many liberties with my soft brother,' she says disapprovingly.

'And,' Tony pauses, 'everyone's been accounted for?'

'If you're asking if Bucky is with them, then no. He and that red haired woman have taken some of the agents with them for interrogating. I've been speaking with that CIA double agent - that Falcon man - and it is not good, Tony. I'm on my way home now. We will be conducting medical assessments, but there's a very real chance some of them will need extensive treatment and to be rehabilitated with B.A.R.F.,' she explains.

Tony tells her, 'What do you need from me? I can send the schematics and help build parts for a new station in Wakanda-'

'No, Tony. I need you here,' she tells him, 'this is bigger than anything I have worked on before and you know the rehabilitation process better than anyone. I know I am asking a lot since the Rogues are here, but-'

Tony is already putting his blazer back on. He tells her, 'Give me a day to sort everything on this end and I can be with you tomorrow.'

'Are you sure? I realise I am asking you to throw yourself into the belly of the monster, but I don't believe I can do this without you,' she tells him.

'You don't have to ask,' Tony tells her.

She pauses, then tells him, 'I haven’t heard from Bucky.'

Tony glances up at Ross and Everett. There are so many things he wants to say, but instead he tells Shuri, 'I'll be with you soon.'

'What the hell is happening, Stark?' Ross demands.

Tony eyes Everett, who is still as stone. 'You want to tell him, or should I?'

Everett swallows and explains, 'Some of the Rogues are claiming asylum in Wakanda. Captain America is still MIA.'

'The victims aren't in a good way, I'm going over to help with the recovery effort. I'll brief Pepper on what we talked about today and she can pick up our negotiations in the meantime,' Tony tells them.

'You can't just pick up and leave, Stark,' Ross says.

'I can, because Iron Man signed the Accords. In this capacity, I'm acting as regular old Tony Stark providing humanitarian aid,' Tony tells him, 'and there's not a damn thing you can do to stop me.'

Ross looks at Everett, who shrugs and says, 'He's not wrong.'

Tony flashes a smile, all teeth. ‘Thank you, Everett. Now get out of my building.’

Despite his best efforts, Tony doesn’t leave the day after. There’s only one B.A.R.F. prototype and it’s currently sitting in his lab, it’s not designed to be packed up and moved around. As the tech god of miniaturisation, he’d been working on making a smaller, more portable version for his, Pepper and somehow now Foggy's grand plan. 

But there are still glitches to iron out before he’s comfortable putting anyone through the ringer. The holograms quiver too much, the machine drains too much power. He wants to get this second version of B.A.R.F. right and he doesn’t want to move the only working version of it halfway across the world just yet. 

He tells himself it’s because he doesn’t want to deal with the hassle of moving his original prototype. In reality, it’s because he still believes Bucky might come back and that he’ll need the tech. He doesn’t entertain the thought that Bucky might, in any universe, need him.

Tony has forced himself out of the lab for the first time in hours, up to Bucky’s floor to iron out some calculations on paper, when F.R.I.D.A.Y. alerts him to a ring at the doorbell with a note of urgency in her voice. Tony waves dismissively for her to pull up a live feed of the doorstep and drops his pen in shock. 

It’s a supersoldier in a baseball cap, shifting awkwardly from side to side. He does his best to hide his face from the camera, but Tony would know the cut of that stubborn jaw anywhere, the clear blue of those eyes. 

Cautiously, Tony asks, ‘Steve?’

Steve’s head cracks up, his gaze colliding with the security camera. His skin is gaunt and dark circles collect under his eyes like bruises. He’s holding himself gingerly, which is more than enough cause for alarm. An injury that Steve doesn’t heal from swiftly is one that would likely kill a normal person.

‘Tony,’ Steve croaks out, his voice dry. As though his vocal cords had been scraped raw from screaming. ‘Can I come in?’

‘Where’s Bucky?’ Tony asks immediately.

Steve hesitates, his expression clouding over with confusion. ‘I don’t know. It’s just me. I need…I need help, Tony.’

I don’t want any part in your redemption arc, Tony had once told Bucky when he was standing on his doorstep, begging for help. 

But Tony has always been a sucker, he was always going to help. Eventually.

‘Come in,’ Tony finally says.

The wait for Steve as he ascends the elevator stretches a lifetime. Instead of being sensible and letting anybody know Steve has arrived practically gift wrapped on his doorstep, Tony just stares at the lift doors. Waiting for them to open.

They finally do and Steve looks worse in person. Tony has seen him 30 hours into an op, caked in dirt and blood, running on no sleep. This, however, is the worst he’s ever looked. Hunched over and manic, cornflower eyes darting around like a trapped animal. He had thought about this moment for ages and what he would say, what he would do. All of that flies right out of his head at the sight of Steve, his old teammate, on the tip of a familiar ledge.

Steve stops and doesn’t step out of the lift. ‘This isn’t your floor.’

‘It was Bruce’s,’ Tony tells him. It was Bucky’s, he could tell him but he doesn’t want to. Telling Steve, letting him into even a fraction of Tony and Bucky’s happiness, feels like trampling it underfoot.

‘Tony, I need help. I need your machine, the memory one,’ Steve says.

Tony’s eyes narrow. ‘Not off to a great start if you’re trying to win me over, Cap.’

There’s something monstrous in Cap’s clouded gaze, unhinged and terrified. He says, ‘It’s how you deprogrammed James, isn’t it? I can’t- they got me, Tony. They got me, and I can’t stop seeing the things they made me do and my brain-’

Tony knows the signs better than anyone, he can see Steve is headed for a full blown panic attack. He approaches him carefully, reaches out to put a hand on his shoulder to calm him. Steve curves away from the touch. This close, Tony can see the blood matted in his golden hair where the electrodes must have been pressed into his skull.

‘Easy, tiger. Just come sit down. We’ll talk it out. I’ll call the Rogues and Bucky and-’

‘No,’ Steve snarls out, retreating further into the lift.

‘Okay. Okay, we won’t call the Rogues just yet. But you need to sit down. You look like you’re about to collapse,’ Tony tells him.

‘Don’t tell anyone I’m here. Please,’ Steve says.

Tony throws his hands up in a sign of surrender and potters over to the kitchen, pulling out Shuri’s store of rooibos tea. Slowly, Steve emerges from the lift and just stands in the middle of the room like a crumbling museum relic.

‘Sit,’ Tony tells him.

‘Do you have your watch on you? The one which turns into the suit?’ Steve asks.

Dread starts to fill Tony. He masks it and instead just shakes his wrist in the super soldier’s direction, the platinum watch catching the light. He says, ‘I never take it off, it’s a real statement piece. For Christ’s sake Rogers, sit down and stop hovering. You’re making me nervous.’

Steve does finally, sitting bolt upright in his armchair. His eyes scan the room, searching for something Tony can’t give him. Instead, Tony passes him a steaming cup of tea and takes the velvet couch opposite.

Tony says, ‘Okay. Start at the beginning. Are you badly injured? I can call my doc-’

‘No,’ Steve insists, his voice like a gunshot. ‘Nobody can know I’m here.’

‘Steve, if you’re hurt then you need medical attention. Once you’re better, we can talk about everything else,’  Tony tells him.

‘I’m not injured. I just need to get into your memory tech,’ Steve says.

‘Even if I would let you march straight on into B.A.R.F., your body wouldn’t be able to handle it right now. It’s exhausting and you’re already running on empty, we’ll start when you’ve showered and rested,’ Tony tells him carefully.

‘I’m good to go now,’ Steve insists.

‘Look, Steve, you’re here. You’re safe. Nobody else knows where you are. Shower and go to sleep, I’m not letting you near B.A.R.F. right now in the state you’re in,’ Tony tells him.

A muscle jumps in Steve’s jaw. ‘But what if something happens? What if I get new orders?’

‘Nothing is going to happen to you, not while I’m here. Whatever happened to you, whatever you did , it wasn’t your fault. You did good breaking out of Hydra’s base, the programming obviously hasn’t taken full hold yet. How did you get out anyways?’ Tony asks.

Confusion breaks across Steve’s spattered features. ‘I…I don’t know. I don’t remember anything. They put me in the chair, and then-’

The images of the chair are burned into Tony’s mind, as though he’d been burned in one himself. He says, ‘Let’s talk about it tomorrow. Just rest, Steve.’

‘Will we use B.A.R.F. tomorrow?’ Steve asks urgently.

Tony pauses, assessing him. He remembers Bucky as he was, prepared to end it all if he was ever forced to act against his own will again. Bucky came to him on a knife edge. Steve is the entire knife.

‘We’ll start tomorrow,’ Tony relents.

Relief breaks across Steve’s face. Tony turns away from him, uncomfortable at the display. He says, ‘Alright, I’m going to leave you alone to get some rest. Sleep in as much as you need, I’ll cancel whatever I have tomorrow and we can focus on the whole deprogramming thing. But Steve, we really do have to tell someone you’re here. They’re all out there looking for you.’

For a moment, Tony thinks his wrist has snapped in two as white hot pain lances through him. He gasps, instinctively tugging his wrist away but Steve holds him firm, his knuckles white as Tony’s bones creak in his grip.

‘Don’t tell anyone I’m here,’ Steve insists. He’s not begging anymore. It’s a threat.

Tony finally frees himself and rubs at the bruised skin. Steve’s fingers have left five purpling marks on his wrist and Tony glances at his watch for a second, resisting the urge to whip out the suit. 

‘Fine,’ Tony tells him. ‘But you need to sleep. You’re cranky as hell, Cap.’

Steve doesn’t even respond, but watches him like a hawk as Tony retreats back into the lift. He zips himself up to his own floor and only when he’s in his own space and the doors have shut behind him, he raises his head to speak to FRIDAY.

‘Fri? Put a lock on the lift to Steve’s floor, nobody goes in or out except me. And keep me updated on him at all times,’ Tony tells her. 

There’s a pause, then she responds, ‘Lock activated and heightened monitoring has been implemented on Steve Rogers.’

‘Do we still have that old Hulk protocol?’ he asks.

‘We do, boss,’ she responds.

‘Activate that too, please. Immediate shut down of Bucky’s floor if Cap starts to act up,’ he says.

‘Would you like me to connect you to Colonel Rhodes to let him know that the Captain has returned?’ she asks.

Tony looks at the marks on his wrist, flexing his fingers. He swallows. ‘No. But tell him to be on standby, don’t let him know anything else.’

‘Is that wise, sir?’ 

He thinks of Steve’s haunted gaze. ‘Probably not.’

Tony doesn’t sleep that night. Instead, he stares at footage of Steve sitting blankly in Bucky’s living room, staring at a dark television screen. Both he and Steve just stay motionless on their separate floors for hours, but the difference is that sleep eventually overcomes Tony. 

Steve doesn’t so much as blink.

The next morning, Steve sleeps, and sleeps, and sleeps. He eventually crashed around 3am, Friday informs Tony.

Tony lets him continue, content to work on mini B.A.R.F. in the meantime, a project that holds even more weight with another unstable supersoldier in the mix. He dodges the string of question marks from Rhodes over text, not trusting himself to spill his guts out. He tries not to think of the scar across his chest or the shield still spattered with his own blood.

Eventually, Steve wakes. Friday alerts Tony. Tony only spirals a little bit.

‘Tell him I’m coming to his floor in twenty minutes,’ Tony says. 

Friday goes silent, then responds, ‘He has said he is ready for you now.’

‘Yeah, but I’m not ready for him,’ Tony mutters to himself.

He takes his time instead, sticking to his decided upon schedule. He loses himself in the miniaturisation process, eventually tossing on a pair of glasses to test baby B.A.R.F. for the fifteenth time. B.A.R.F’s four pillars have been condensed into one little box, only slightly bigger than a rubik's cube. As he presses a button on the centre of it, it expands slightly and throws up a cone of light which flashes in synchronisation to the lights passing over Tony’s glasses. As it shudders, eventually it stabilises and Tony is staring into a familiar white waiting room with all of his memories lined up like vegetables at a supermarket.

‘Jesus, finally,’ Tony says to himself, scrolling through the memories. 

He pauses as he realises there’s a new string of them, all of them beginning with Bucky. Bucky White House. Bucky B.A.R.F. success. Bucky departure. Bucky, Bucky, Bucky.

Tony blinks away the sudden warmth in his eyes, shutting off baby B.A.R.F. before he does something stupid like run through the simulations. He's done torturing himself with the past. He clicks the tiny machine shut and the lights disappear, leaving Tony alone in the gigantic lab. Clearing his throat, he slips the new machine into a drawer strewn with candy wrappers and screwdriver heads for later.

‘Captain Rogers would like me to inform you it has been twenty minutes,’ Friday says, just as Tony closes the drawer.

‘Send him down then,’ Tony says, already tired.

Tony adjusts his watch, packs away some documents on his desk, turns off the holoscreens and hides any sensitive information. His heart is pounding in his chest, the same way it does right before a battle he knows he might not win. Before he can negotiate the anxiety away, the doors slide open and Steve steps through - dressed in a pair of slacks and a blue sweater that Bucky left behind. Shuri gave him that, Tony remembers suddenly, then remembers the way everyone fussed over Bucky’s blue shirt a lifetime ago. 

‘Is that the memory tech?’ Steve asks, staring at the glass room set up in the middle of the lab.

Tony spins in his computer chair, pointing at a chair opposite him with his screwdriver. ‘Sit. We need to talk.’

Steve hesitates, then does - his eyes never leaving B.A.R.F. as he sidles towards him. He sits and god, Tony thinks, he looks worse than he did yesterday. 

‘Will we be starting today?’ Steve asks again.

Tony sighs and says, ‘Look. B.A.R.F. isn’t going to magically fix you after one session. Bucky’s been in and out of it for the past few months and he still has a long way to go.’

‘But he no longer responds to his activation string, right?’ Steve says, brow furrowing.

‘Yes, but it’s still a fight for him every time. Hopefully since you’ve been with Hydra for a shorter amount of time, the process is going to be shorter to get you deprogrammed. But Bucky was working with a therapist alongside the simulations and he had people supporting him. If you really want to get better Cap, we’re going to have to tell someone you’re here,’ Tony tells him.

‘I already said I don’t want anyone to know I’m here,’ Steve repeats, his tone sharp.

Tony passes a hand over his hair, then realises with a grimace he’s still wearing B.A.R.F.’s glasses. He leaves them on for now. ‘Steve. Why the hell did you come to me? You could’ve gone to find Bucky or to Wakanda, or anywhere or anyone else.’

‘It had to be you,’ Steve says, after a struggle.

‘Why?’ Tony asks again.

Steve stares at him. He doesn’t say anything for a while, then finally demands, ‘Is that glass room B.A.R.F.?’

‘Yes,’ Tony tells him.

‘Is it the only one?’ Steve continues.

Tony looks at him in confusion. ‘The only one for now, yes.’

The world falls out from under him then. Steve is a blur and Tony’s wrist, the one with the watch, is shattered in moments. Steve yanks the watch from him, tossing it far across the room and out of Tony’s reach before Tony can even finish gasping in pain. Somehow, he manages to pull out of Steve’s grip but the man is already lunging towards him - his blue eyes empty as hallways. Oh fuck, Tony thinks.

‘Friday, Mark XVIII!’ he calls out and plates of armour rush to his rescue, enclosing him in rapid speed. Steve is faster though, getting a good punch in before the visor has even flipped down. Tony reels as his skull rattles against the metal, staggering backwards as he fires off a repulsor blast directly to Steve’s shouder.

There’s the unmistakable stench of sizzling hair as Steve is thrown halfway across the room against B.A.R.F.’s walls. The lab shudders with the force as Tony shouts for Friday to alert Rhodes, Ross, whoever the hell she can get through to that Steve is here and on the warpath.

‘Steve!’ Tony calls out, as though there’s any chance he can reach him through the programming.

He fails, as Tony always does when it comes to Steve. There is no way in hell Tony survives this. He attempts to fly over to the lift for a quick escape, but Steve grabs him by the ankle and slams him against the wall like a baseball bat before he can even get in the air. Tony activates a new feature which scatters electric shocks throughout the suit and Steve drops him suddenly, a current of fear slicing through his eyes. Tony takes the advantage and kicks him away from him with a boot burning with rocket fuel, cracking Steve’s head to the side. 

‘Friday, ETA on Rhodey?’ Tony calls out, throwing up an arm to keep Steve from smashing his head in. Shuri is in Wakanda, too far to reach the tower in reasonable time. Peter can’t be dragged into this. Bucky is. Bucky is-

‘ETA is twenty minutes, sir,’ Friday responds. Well, Tony thinks, at least he’ll be able to pick up Tony’s corpse.

Tony passes his hand over a keypad built into his left wrist, grimacing at the pain as his broken bones grind against one another. There’s a whirr and two Iron Soldier suits fly to his side like knights, throwing themselves into Steve’s pass as he mows them down. Tony takes the advantage and flings himself towards the lift again, thinking of Bucky’s floor and its lockdown features. If he can just get Steve in there, he can seal them off together - keep Steve from getting out into the general public, even if it means Tony is trapped in there with him.

He makes it and as the doors close, he breathes for the first time since Steve attacked him. It doesn’t last long however before they screech to a halt, stopped by a sheet plate of metal thrown like a shield between them. Tony presses himself against the wall right on time as the metal comes within inches of his neck. If the doors hadn’t already been closing, he would have lost his head.

He’s actually trying to kill me, Tony realises finally. Again.

As Steve wrenches the doors open with his bare hands, Tony decides all bets are off. He grounds himself and fires off a repulsor blast straight from the arc reactor in his chest, slamming into Steve with the force of a meteor. The man doesn’t even cry out, silent as he claws his way back onto his feet.

‘Fine, okay. Let’s dance, asshole,’ Tony says, gritting his teeth.

Steve doesn’t even respond. He just throws himself at Tony again, back into the fray.

Tony would never admit it, but he’s been training for this moment ever since Steve put the shield in his chest in Siberia. Fighting Steve in close quarters is practically suicide, so he does everything he can to put space between them - more Iron Soldiers, more half-finished projects as he fires off as many blasts as he can. Even Dummy shows up with a fire extinguisher, but is tipped over uselessly with a sad chirp. Tony’s chest repulsor is still charging after the last blast, he needs at least two minutes before it’s good to go again so he makes do with tiny blasts that seem to do little to faze Steve. 

Steve gets in under his guard and Tony takes a devastating blow to the chest, where his arc reactor is. It cracks and winds him, but he manages to duck under another punch and grabs Steve by the waist. With all the speed he can muster, he flies them both straight into a wall and Steve takes the brunt of the hit, leaving a sizeable dent in the metal. With a wave of his hand, Tony summons pieces of an older Iron Man suit and a boot snaps across Steve’s foot, resisting him when he tries to move again. He raises his ankle and slams it down on the floor, once, twice, as Tony moves back into a safer position. On the third slam, the boot completely shatters and is rendered useless.

‘90 seconds till repulsor at full capacity,’ Friday informs Tony, her voice ringing in his ears.

Tony blinks, trying to shake off the impending concussion. He remembers he’s still wearing B.A.R.F.’s glasses suddenly, then an idea comes to him. He just needs to buy time before the repulsor recharges. He’ll figure out what to do after that.

He charges through into B.A.R.F. and Steve gamely follows as Tony activates the memory tech, throwing them into a disorientating white waiting room. Steve’s eyes flicker for just the briefest moment, distracted, then Tony is throwing on the first simulation he can find. It’s an early memory of their first ever battle as the Avengers, aliens and spacecrafts decimating New York. Steve flinches away as though they’re real as one alien barrels through him, then flinches again when he comes face to face with himself holding up a star-emblazoned shield.

‘Avengers, assemble,’ fake Steve says, launching them all into the fray. Steve staggers, clutching at his head. Tony flies for the door back into the lab past him, but is shoulder checked by Steve into the wall. 

Between them, younger Steve and Tony soar through the hologram in complete synchronicity - dancing between shield throws, blasts and across one another’s paths. Tony can’t help watching as another version of him helps catch the shield when it veers too far out of range, tossing it back easily as a football for Steve to take out an encroaching enemy. 

He sees Steve through the hologram helplessly staring as well, his hands twitching at his side as his eyes dart across the simulation. He meets Tony’s eyes finally and there’s something there, some flicker of life. 

‘Tony,’ he chokes out. ‘I can’t stop. Run.’

Tony doesn’t look the gift horse in the mouth and does, spiralling towards the open door of B.A.R.F.. If he can just get the door shut, seal Steve in the tech, then he’ll buy himself more time. Bucky was never able to break through its walls, but he doesn’t know how much stronger Steve is or if it’ll even hold him. 

He slams the door shut, pressing himself bodily against it as Steve tries to claw it open. He shouts, ‘Friday! Could really use some backup here!’

‘Backup is less than three minutes away, sir,’ she tells him. Tony frowns, that’s much too close for it to be Rhodey.

Steve slams against the door again, then gives up - instead tearing B.A.R.F. apart with his bare hands. The hologram shudders and begins to wink out, whirring through different simulations in static. Tony and Steve, laughing over a kitchen counter. Maria, smiling with teeth as lovely as pearls. The machinery eventually gives way, cables and sparks whirling like arteries. Steve wields one of B.AR.F.’s parts like a club and begins smashing it against the walls. A crack forms on his seventh hit, cobwebbing across the glass.

Tony’s eyes flicker to the countdown timer in his HUD screen. 25 seconds until his next repulsor is ready to go. Steve is nearly through the wall.

He sees Bucky, his eyes and defeated smile. I need to be somewhere they’ll either fix me or put me down altogether.

He makes a decision and begins to redirect all the power in his suit to his chest, charging it up for one single devastating blast. He gasps as the suit begins to heat up, his HUD flashing red as it warns him of the dangers and he staggers to one knee. His entire body is one long scream of pain and exhaustion, he can barely see through the sweat pouring over his face. This is it, he thinks wildly. This is it.

Steve crashes through the wall in a shower of glass, shattering like snow. 

‘Friday, tell Bucky I’m sorry,’ Tony says, his heart in his throat.

Her voice is cool as water in his ears. ‘Noted, sir.'

Tony fires. The recoil throws him all the way across the room and he cries out as he makes impact, his ribs cracking like biscuits in a tin. He barely sees what happens to Steve, doused in a concentrated blast which scorches the ceiling of the laboratory and the sprinklers go off. Steam fills the room, making it difficult to see anything.

He tries to breathe and his lungs bubble ominously, he must have punctured one. Tony tries to get up, to see what happened to Steve. Nobody could have survived that, not even a supersoldier and there’s panic rising in him for all the wrong reasons. Despite everything, all that has passed between them, he wants Steve to be alive.

He gags in agony as another force crashes into him, pinning him to the ground. It’s Steve, his torso burned and flayed nearly beyond recognition from the blast. His eyes are empty and Tony knows this is the end, as Steve raises the metal plate he used to block the lift doors. He spins it in his hands so the sharp edge is facing downwards, like a guillotine at the ready.

I never told Bucky, Tony thinks suddenly. Bucky, soft in his bed, giving way under his hands like sugar. Sitting on the edge of a yellow slide, the Tulsa sunset behind him.

Steve brings the shield down. 

Bucky had already been on his way back to New York when Steve had turned up on Tony's doorstep, racing through its streets on a stolen motorcycle with a gun and shield strapped to his back. Just hours ago, he had been in an interrogation room with one of Hydra’s agents: Dr. Gunner Nilsson, the one who loved rubber ducks and frying his brain to a crisp. He had been so much older than Bucky remembered, tiny in the chair they had strapped him into. 

‘Where is Steve?’ he had demanded, still as a panther. ‘What have you done with him?’

Nilsson had laughed. ‘What’s the time?’

Bucky had told him, frowning. Nilsson cracked his neck, then turned that awful smile onto Bucky once again. He said, ‘He’s off making sure none of you can ever be deprogrammed again.’

It had admittedly taken Bucky longer than he liked to figure out what the man meant. He had always played mind games, when he wasn’t busy ripping them apart with electricity. An hour later, Natasha had had to hold Bucky back as he tore back into Nilsson’s holding cell with wild eyes.

He hadn’t even had to say anything. Nilsson had just grinned in delight. ‘

‘Ah, Winter Soldier. Please commend him on his deprogramming efforts for me at his funeral, he really did try his best,’ Nilsson had said. ‘Hail Hy-’

Bucky had slammed his metal fist into the side of Nilsson’s face before Natasha could stop him. His head had cracked sickeningly and he stopped moving, slumping in his chair. Bucky was off again, racing through their Wakandan safehouse to find a way back to New York as fast as he could. 

‘Barnes! Barnes, what the hell is going on?’ Natasha had demanded.

Bucky gritted out, ‘Nilsson’s not dead, just knocked out. I have to get to New York.’

‘New York? Barnes-’

‘Hydra’s sent Steve after Tony,’ he had told her, his lungs too big for his chest. ‘They want to destroy B.A.R.F. and kill Tony, keep him from deprogramming any of their assets ever again.’

The blood had drained from her face. She swore, loudly, in Russian.

‘I will go with you. The other Rogues will come as well, if I ask,’ she said.

‘You need to stay here to protect Shuri and Wilson. They’re going to be sending assets after them too, they worked closely with Tony on the tech. If something- something happens to Tony, then they’re the only ones that might be able to rebuild B.A.R.F.,’ Bucky told her.

‘You can’t go on your own,’ she insisted.

‘I’ll be faster, we don’t know how long Steve has been after him. He might even already be there. None of you will stand a chance against Steve, not while Thor and Captain Marvel are off world,’ he told her.

She repeated, ‘You don’t have to go on your own.’

Bucky wheeled around to stare at her, feeling as though his feet would barely hold him upright. ‘I left him alone. We all did. We did this.’

She fell silent. Then: ‘I will get you a plane.’

Bucky had nodded, too overwhelmed to respond. He had already started running through calculations in his head, each of them too devastating to see through to their end.

That had been eight hours ago. Those calculations are worse now. For once in his life, it had been easier when he was just a brainwashed asset off on a mission. As he slips through traffic with the New Avengers Tower looming over him, the sheer panic and fear has already set in.

Bucky has no way of contacting Friday, she’s always been the one to ping him first. Some security measure Tony had built in ages ago before he had let Bucky into the New Avengers, before he trusted him. Instead, he calls Peter.

‘Peter? Peter, where are you?’ he asks, wired through his earpiece.

‘Mr Barnes? I’m in Queens. Am I supposed to be talking to you, I thought-’

‘Get to the tower right now, I’m en route. Tony’s in trouble, I need you to stay downstairs until I tell you to come up,’ he tells him.

He hangs up before Peter can respond, knowing the kid will be there and do anything in his power to help Tony. He makes another call, one that he knows will break his heart.

Foggy picks up. ‘Bucky? Christ, am I supposed to be talking to you?’

‘Call Ross. Call Ross and tell him we need a full perimeter around Avengers Tower, medical team and big guns, the works,’ Bucky insists.

‘Is Tony okay?’ Foggy asks immediately, because he’s always been quick.

Something catches in Bucky’s throat. His vision blurs, his grip on the handles slack. ‘I don’t know. Steve’s after him.’

Foggy exhales sharply. ‘Fuck. Okay, fuck, fuck, fuck, okay, I’ll sort something out. Do you need backup? I know a guy, he’s close by. He’s no super soldier, but he’s strong.’ 

‘I need someone to stand by with Spider-Man outside the Tower. In case I can’t. I can’t-’

‘Anything you need,’ Foggy tells him, immediately.

‘Thank you,’ Bucky says, then hangs up.

He’s at the base of Avengers Tower now and doesn’t even bother parking the bike, just jumps off and tosses it to the side of the pavement. As he races to the front door, Friday boots up in the key panel and scans his features. 

‘Friday, where’s Tony?’ Bucky demands. 

The door slides open instantly, revealing the long hallway and the elevator shaft at the end up to the Tower. She says, ‘Please go to the laboratory immediately, Sergeant Barnes.’

It’s the closest to concern that the AI can get and as Bucky moves towards the lift, there’s an explosion. It rattles the very window frames of the buildings around them and he slams his hand against the wall for balance, looking for the cause of it around him. Then he realises it’s come from up above and his head cracks upwards. Thick black smoke plumes out of the side of Avengers Tower, blue lightning tendrils of light spitting in the aftermath.

Bucky doesn’t think, he just throws himself into the lift. It’s agony waiting those few seconds to get up onto the laboratory floor but when he does, his mind goes white. Not empty like when he was brainwashed, but full of rage as potent as a repulsor blast. 

Steve is standing over Tony’s broken body, a plate of metal in his hands and raised over the crumpled metal suit. B.A.R.F. is in pieces at the side, the cot Bucky spent so much time in mangled amidst flames burning across the lab. Bucky moves instantly, gun in his hand as he fires off a shot that punctures Steve’s palm. Steve flinches, his hold on the plate weakening - but he still brings it down.

Bucky has been teased by Tony and Shuri for his eerie silence when he fights, but he’s screaming now. He screams as he sees the plate crash through Tony’s metal chest and he screams as he tears Steve off of him, throwing him with all his might away from Tony with his whirring metal arm. The visor is up and Tony is so pale, eyelashes fluttering as he struggles to breathe.

‘Tony. Tony, sweetheart, please,’ he begs, trying to shake him awake. 

Tony’s head falls to the side, a sickly stream of blood slipping down his cheek. He’s still breathing, but it comes in rattling gasps. He’s unconscious. Dying.

Steve rises, his body a mottled wet mess of raw muscle and blood. He turns to Bucky, his mouth twisted and his eyes dull. He says, ‘We have orders to return to base. Will you come willingly, or will I have to bring you in?’

‘Stevie, don’t do this,’ Bucky pleads.

There’s a noise behind Steve which draws both of their attention. Peter is here despite his orders to stay down below, his white eyes wide as he takes in the scene. Steve turns to him, a titan in the wreckage ready to destroy him.

And god, Tony loves Peter like nothing else. So Bucky raises his gun and his hands don’t even shake as he shoots his best friend in the heart.

Foggy has never considered himself a hero of any kind, let alone a super one. He’s always left the superheroics to Matt, Shuri and, occasionally and begrudgingly, Frank Castle. He still can’t explain why he had raced over to Avengers Tower from his glitzy law office in downtown Manhattan the moment he received Tony’s call, as though he would in any way be able to help with whatever was going down there.

He arrives too late. Ross has already set up a perimeter, stone-faced at the side as Avengers Tower bleeds smoke. He spots Matt in his Daredevil red suit, speaking quietly to Spider-Man at the side who is sitting heavily on the pavement. There’s no sight of Tony, Bucky or Steve.

‘Where’s Tony?’ Foggy immediately asks.

Spider-Man looks away. Daredevil puts a hand on his shoulder and says, ‘He’s in with the medics in the van. Sergeant Barnes is with him.’

‘Is he…’ Foggy begins.

A strangled noise escapes Spider-Man from behind the mask. Matt’s hold on his shoulder tightens in support. ‘He’s fighting.’

‘And Captain America?’ Foggy asks.

‘Barely alive, but in transit to the RAFT. Bullet just missed his heart, but he’s critical and they’ll operate on him there,’ Matt says.

‘I need to talk to Bucky,’ Foggy says, trying to work his way through the impending brain fog. Spider-Man points in the direction of a van, his hand shaking.

Foggy goes, but not before clasping Matt in a grateful hug. He’s stopped before he can even get within a couple of meters to Tony, told it’s a sensitive situation right now. There’s a tap at his shoulder and Ross is beside him, gesturing with a nod of the head to the side.

‘General Ross,’ Foggy greets him, his eyes flickering to the sealed off van. He can see people moving around in its windows. Tony must be on a stretcher, out of view, dying.

Ross tells him quietly, ‘I told Barnes to go for a smoke. He’s in the lift to the tower, tell him Captain Rogers is stable and contained.’

‘And Tony?’ Foggy asks.

Ross’ mouth pulls into a thin line. ‘Just go to Barnes. He needs someone like you right now.’

Foggy doesn’t know what he means by that, but he goes anyways. Ross presses a bottle of water, towel and a clean shirt into Foggy’s hands. He doesn’t know what he’s meant to do with it but he takes it all anyways. Friday silently lets him into the tower, revealing a slumped over figure on the floor - a cigarette lit between fingertips. 

The lift doors are open at the end of the lobby and Foggy feels the bile rise in his throat. Beyond it, the pristine glass walls are completely covered in blood. 

‘Bucky,’ Foggy calls out.

Bucky looks up, swallowing. He’s worse off than the lift, absolutely caked in blood. Foggy understands now why Ross gave him the shirt and towel.

Foggy sits beside him on the ground, four hundred dollar suit be damned. He passes Bucky the bottle of water and they sit in silence, failing to take everything in. Eventually, Foggy says, ‘Shitty day at the office, huh?’

Bucky doesn’t laugh, but something does quirk at his mouth. He opens the bottle and takes a long sip, responding, ‘Easily the shittiest.’

‘Ross, uh. Ross wanted me to tell you Captain America is stable,’ Foggy ventures.

Bucky nods stonily. ‘But he didn’t say anything about Tony?’

Foggy swallows. ‘He’s still in the van with the medics.’

Bucky takes the towel from him, pouring water over it and wiping at his face. Every wipe comes back scarlet red and Bucky just looks at it, clasped tight between his hands. ‘When I left him, I knew he wanted to ask me to stay. He didn’t though. He knew I had to go after Steve, so he let me go. And this happened anyways.’

‘Nobody had any idea this was going to happen,’ Foggy tells him quietly.

‘When I shot Steve, I was going for the kill. I didn’t even think about it. The only reason Steve survived was because he had a burner phone in his front pocket,’ Bucky says tonelessly.

‘None of this is your fault. Captain America would have wanted you to stop him. Tony wouldn’t blame you for any of this either,’ Foggy says.

Bucky snorts. ‘No, but he’d be mad as hell anyways.’

‘Then he can shout at you all he likes when he’s better,’ Foggy says firmly.

‘They really didn’t say anything about Tony?’ Bucky presses.

‘No,’ Foggy says.

No news is good news. Or maybe bad news, when it comes to top secret government agencies. Foggy doesn’t know what to think, but Tony - against all odds - is his friend too. He’s rattled to his core, but being in control is why he’s as good at his job as he is. The doors to the lobby slide open and Matt is standing there, looking absolutely ridiculous in his crimson spandex.

‘Spider-Man’s asking if he can see Sergeant Barnes,’ Matt says.

Foggy looks at Bucky, who nods tiredly. Matt raises his head and his nostrils flare slightly as he sniffs, staring sightlessly around the room. Then he adds, ‘You might want to change your shirt and shut those lift doors before I bring him through.’

Friday obeys without even being given a command, sliding the doors shut. Foggy takes Bucky’s shirt from him, trying not to think about how warm the blood is, as Bucky scrubs at his skin more roughly than necessary with the towel to rid himself of the stains. Foggy wraps his discarded shirt in the towel, bundling it into a pile which he throws behind a plant pot. There’s no saving the gory trail of blood which leads up to the lift, but they’ve done what they can.

‘Hands, Foggy,’ Bucky says.

Foggy looks down and realises his palms are bright red. A wave of dizziness comes over him when he realises it's Tony's blood.

‘Oh my god,’ he says. He can’t say anything else.

Bucky takes control and douses them in the last of the water. Foggy wipes them on his suit trousers, right as Matt leads Spider-Man in. Spider-Man doesn’t say anything, just lingers at the doorway. Foggy and Matt look to Bucky.

Bucky simply smiles, exhaustion creased into every inch of his face. ‘Don’t just hover there, you’re making me nervous. Get over here.’

Spider-Man does, burying himself under Bucky’s extended arm. He curls up against him on the floor as Bucky pulls him close, murmuring to him quietly. It’s too quiet for Foggy to hear, but Matt clearly does and he gently tugs at Foggy’s elbow.

‘Let’s leave them alone for now,’ Matt says. 

Foggy glances back and sees Spider-Man pull the mask over his head, then looks away as fast as he can before his face is revealed. He’s no genius, but based on how small and broken Spider-Man looked against Bucky, he knows he's only a child.

If Tony could do it all again, he would have asked Bucky to stay. Too many people have left him in this lifetime and when Bucky had said he was leaving, he had just accepted it was always going to happen. He had been furious and upset, of course. But not surprised. There was always something more important, or easier to live with, than Tony Stark.

But he would be more selfish, if he could do it all again. He would have spent less time out of the tower and more in it, warm and sunkissed on Bucky’s terrace with a cup of Shuri’s tea and the smell of tobacco in his nose. He would have been less careful with Bucky to begin with, he would have let his guard down earlier. 

He would have fallen in love with him more quickly. He would have given them more time.

When he wakes up, he has no idea where he is. There’s a mechanical beep beside his ear, a shrill, annoying thing, and the sound of rainfall against the thatched bamboo roof above him. The walls are lined with animal hides and skins and one of the curved walls is a stunning vista of floor to ceiling windows, revealing the thick green jungle beyond. A shiny metropolis rises beyond it, the buildings unlike any Tony has ever seen. 

‘Some Hydra base,’ he croaks out, his voice ragged.

There’s a shift of movement to his left. Tony is too weak to turn to see it, he feels as though he’s had a building thrown at him. Red fabric, a red dashiki, comes into view and he peers up blearily and sees bright swimming pool eyes. 

‘Christ. Don’t tell me they got you too,’ Tony says. 

Bucky brushes the hair back from his face, or at least, what’s left of it. He can feel stitches tugging at the side of his head, someone must have shaved him. Bucky tells him, ‘We’re safe. We’re in Wakanda. We’ve just been waiting for you to wake up.’

Tony laughs and then gasps in pain, his ribs exploding with the agony of it. Bucky immediately sits down on the side of his bed, calming him with soft touches as he asks where it hurts. 

‘Steve?’ Tony asks, once the pain has subsided.

A shadow falls over Bucky’s face. ‘He’s stable. Shuri and Sam are working on his treatment.’

‘He destroyed B.A.R.F.. I had a miniature in my drawer in the tower. It was ready, but I don’t know if it made it out,’ Tony says immediately.

Bucky nods. ‘Friday found it, they’ve been using it. It’s going to be a long road, but he’ll be okay. He’s a better fighter than I am.’

‘Maybe,’ Tony says, and his chest hurts. ‘But you always hold the line.’

Bucky’s face crumples. It happens so quickly, so easily, that Tony burns to think of how long he’s needed to. He tries to reach up to touch him, but his wrist is bound in thick plaster and he can hardly shift the dead weight. He struggles, then says pathetically, ‘Get down here and kiss me.’

Bucky laughs, then does so. Tony shifts and Bucky slips carefully into the bed beside him, pressing his forehead to the side of Tony’s face. The sound of Bucky’s breathing, slow and steady, is a ballad he's memorised by now. 

'Hey. I've got something to tell you,’ Tony begins. 

Bucky’s hand slides over his chest and the new scar there, a comforting weight. Tony’s heart knocks against it like a front door. 

Bucky hums and his eyelashes whisper against Tony's cheek when he closes his eyes. ‘Tell me in a bit and just let me stay with you a bit longer. We’ve got time.’