missionreport: (longHair 036)
bucky barnes ★ winter soldier ([personal profile] missionreport) wrote in [community profile] 1000m2025-05-12 07:53 pm

003

003

Characters Tony Stark and Bucky Barnes
Fandoms: MCU
Summary: AU of Civil War. Tony's tasked with fixing the Winter Soldier and keeping custody of him at the same time.
aubbiemoose: (Default)

[personal profile] aubbiemoose 2025-05-13 12:51 pm (UTC)(link)
It's not like one can ever prepare for something like this (the 'this' in question being tasked with rehabilitating a renowned ex-Hydra assassin, who also may or may not be the man who murdered your parents, because Tony Stark's life is apparently nothing but a big fucking cosmic joke) but he'd been hoping to have more time to collect his thoughts. As it stands, Tony's been half distractedly tinkering with various pieces of machinery in his lab for what could only be a few hours when FRIDAY alerts him that The Soldier has woken up.

(Abysmal timing, thy name is The Winter Soldier. Couldn't he have waited until Tony wasn't guts deep in the remains of a, uh, what looks like it was once a microwave, to wake up? As previously stated, given Tony's life? Probably not.)

Tony makes his way up to the secure ("secure"? Truthfully, Tony doesn't actually know if it'll hold up if Barnes-- The Soldier? is it rude to keep calling him that? whatever-- decides to go all deadly assassin on them) room The Soldier is being kept in. Not for the first time, and probably not the last, Tony wonders what the hell he's getting himself into.

The fact that they'd gotten to Barnes before Steve did is, frankly, a miracle. Ross had the definitely brilliant and not at all migraine inducing idea that, hey, if we make good ol' Bucky Barnes defect to our side permanently, and he signs the Accords, surely Captain Rogers will come running back with his tail between his legs! And if not, well, what better way to leash him than to hold his dear lifelong friend above his head? Of course, since, "you can fix anything, Stark," and Tony's the only genius around that also happens to be Iron Man, and can therefore keep The Soldier in check, the job was given (re: forced, shoved, imposed, dictated, take your pick) to him.

(And Tony can't even for a second pretend he's not just plain bitter. Strategically speaking, it's genius, and he'd begrudgingly accept were it any other person. They're probably flirting the lines with what constitutes as keeping their own prisoner and brainwashing him, but surely any sane person would eventually be grateful to be saved from fascist Nazi programming. Using said person as blackmail is, uh, also less than favorable, but for the sake of gaining some sort of regulations and accountability for superheroes (which has been an issue on Tony's radar for, like, essentially the entire time he's been Iron Man), Tony understands that it's a necessary evil.

But it's Steve.

The same stupid Steve that Tony had to hear about the whole of his childhood, who probably got more of a notion of an I love you from Howard than Tony did in his entire life. The same stupid Steve who was somehow everything his father had described and nothing like that at all, who drew Tony in like a moth to a flame. The same stupid Steve that Tony got to bicker with, who would match him blow for blow, who Tony had let in to his life, given his trust, who he could see a future with (if not as partners, then as, well, partners, but in a decidedly more strictly work and platonic way). The same stupid Steve who left, who betrayed Tony's trust.

Now, rationally: he gets it. Tony knew from the moment he read the Accords that Steve wouldn't sign them, and he's always admired Steve's dedication to betterment, his one-hundred-percent-take-it-or-leave-it-and-oh-by-the-way-I'm-not-taking-no-for-an-answer style. It's practically impossible to get radical change by playing in the rules, and, really, like Tony of all people is going to be a hypocrite about rule breaking. But they could've done it together, as a team. Tony even understands the dedication to raise hell for Barnes-- if it were Pepper or Rhodey, Tony would be doing the exact same damn thing. But the deeply emotional, insecure, riddled with abandonment issues part of him can't help but wonder, oh, was I just not good enough?

Of course he wasn't. Tony never was, never is. Howard, Obadiah. Pepper, every person he's ever dated and disappointed. Rhodey, whenever Tony finds the end of a bottle again or does something stupid being overzealous and overconfident, or, or, or. The Avengers, which really stings because he tried, okay? The deaths at the hands of SI that still keep him up at night, the people he couldn't save and won't be able to save in the future (and, really, that's practically the whole world at this point). And now Steve.

Fixing up Steve's long lost star-crossed lover and practically sending him happy and waiting back into the arms (because, really, like Steve could stay away from Barnes for long. If anyone could get Steve to negotiate the Accords, it's Barnes' presence) of the man he loves (loved? Jury's still out) is just-- Tony doesn't even have words. It's a gut punch. It's nauseating.

Facing what's likely still a brainwashed Solider at least seems marginally easier to handle. Tony knows the script and the steps he has to follow. Barring some crazy heist-like rescue mission on Steve's part, it won't be hard to stick to the plan. Well, other than Tony hopefully getting more information about his parents out of Barnes.

(Did he mention Steve knew and didn't tell Tony? At least some of his pettiness is justified.))

With a sigh, still in the armor sans the face-plate and head piece, Tony enters the room. FRIDAY closes the door behind him, and locks it.

"I'd apologize about the restraints, but contrary to what superhero-ing in a tin can might say about me, I don't actually have a death wish," Tony says, in lieu of a greeting. He hadn't exactly walked in here with the intent to be witty, but Tony tends to deflect with jokes when he's feeling vulnerable.

He steps closer to the gurney. The Soldier's eyes follow Tony, uncomfortably blank. It feels like a rock in his gut, the sheer discomfort of this whole situation, but what makes him truly nauseous is the thing he might have to do next.

Along with The Soldier, they'd caught the man who had set Barnes off. It had definitely cleared a lot of things up, but it also revealed how Hydra had been controlling The Soldier in the first place. Ross wanted him to succeed at all costs, so Tony had all the tools at his disposal.

Yeah. All of them. The code words in that horrific red book, included.

If he needed to make The Soldier see him as his new handler, he was given permission to do so.

But, seriously, like hell was he going to do that. And he was supposed to be undoing the brainwashing, too-- playing into it would be counterintuitive.

(If The Soldier didn't listen to him, Tony might have to use the existence of the book to prove he has... leverage? The upper hand? But that alone was as far as he was willing to go.)

"So, uh, can we call a truce?" He knew The Soldier knew English, but maybe he'd respond better to Russian?

(Coincidentally, it was a language he was-- well, maybe not fluent in, but decent at. It had started when he was looking in more depth into Anton and Ivan Vanko, (lots and lots of old, messy documents that JARVIS couldn't translate for the life of him, that's how nearly illegible they were) and only grew with the presence of Natasha in his life. No, actually, it had started even before that. Yinsen had said that some of the members of the Ten Rings in that cave in Afghanistan had spoken it, and he'd been right. Tony always kept an ear out during those three months, learned as much as he could from Yinsen and/or context clues.)

He wracked his brain for the word or general concept he was trying to convey, and when he got it, and said it, The Soldier actually looked shocked. But Tony bulldozed on, tried not to feed the cocktail of guilt-shame-pettiness-jealousy-angerangeranger-resentment swirling in his stomach more than he already had. "I get you out of those and you don't attack me? Pretty please? I know it's a bad first impression, but the goal isn't-- I don't want to keep you prisoner if I don't have to."

Oh, right. Oxygen mask. Tony awkwardly takes it off for The Soldier, since he's still bound to the gurney. "Capiche? Happy to explain some things when the threat of stabbing becomes minimal."
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[personal profile] aubbiemoose 2025-05-14 02:36 pm (UTC)(link)
Tony makes a face. It's almost a pout, really, this scrunchy frown that's all pinched and uncomfortable, frustrated. Because that's-- like, c'mon, man! At least focusing on something closer to irritation is familiar, almost calming.

So, creating a safe and trusting environment that's probably vital to fixing Nazi brainwashing is off to a great start. So much for this being easy.

(Like it ever going to be easy. Pretending like he's not vividly imagining grabbing the helmet, putting it on, and repeatedly thunking it against the wall is a difficult task, but Tony manages. Probably.))

"I used to live with super-spies, I've been appropriately humbled from thinking my security can't be slipped," is what Tony eventually says. It's a careful non-answer, but it certainly does plenty of answering. He blows out an exasperated breath. "Can't? No. Shouldn't? Yeah. I'm not above dragging you back here by the scruff like a feral cat."

He isn't sure what to say for awhile. Tony watches the Soldier, arms crossed and with his petulant frown still in place.

Now, being observant is literally his job, both in the superhero and engineering and inventing sense, but it does almost slip his notice, what with Tony and The Solider having their weird stare down to suitably distract him. But The Solider can't hide the noise his arm makes, even with subtle movements-- shifting of plates, the familiar hum and whir of machinery that Tony knows down to his bones. In any other situation it would be funny: Tony impassively watching The Soldier test his bonds, the silent understanding that goes between them that he's been caught, yet The Solider then continuing to do it anyway. He almost does snort, actually, at The Solider's face: maybe Tony's projecting, but Barnes looks like he's trying really hard to project an air of innocence, like he hasn't just been caught with his hand in the metaphorical cookie jar. But then it just makes Tony mad, because he's pretty sure he's seen Steve do the exact same thing a million billion fucking times, and, oh, of course Steve probably got it from him! Or Barnes from Steve, whatever-- it still makes jealousy and envy and every nasty jilted emotion in Tony's body light on fire like they'd been doused in gasoline.

"No. Nuh-uh. Don't be cute with me. We're not doing this."

There's a chair in the corner, and Tony drags it over by hooking his ankle around the leg of it. He'd originally planned to sit here to wait for The Soldier to wake up, but FRIDAY had reminded him that it could be hours, it could be days-- not worth his time. Also, probably would've come off as pretty damn creepy.

Sitting backwards in the chair with his arms laying over the backrest feels ridiculous in the bulky suit, but Tony's too riled up to care. "FRIDAY, babygirl, where'd I put that stupid fucking book?"

"Compartment one, boss." Seeing Barnes' barely repressed shock at the sudden appearance of a disembodied voice from the ceiling is immensely satisfying on Tony's frayed nerves, as childish as that is.

He pops that part of the suit open (designing what was essentially pockets into this thing was a nightmare, and it made Tony feel for women and the state of women's fashion all the more), and pulls out that Stupid Fucking Book. Even livid as he is (this guy murdered my fucking mom, killed Howard before he could ever bother a proper I love you), he's still not going to resort to using it.

"I don't know how twisted up you still are in all of this--" he waves the Stupid Fucking Book (and yeah, the capitalization is a necessity. It's not just any stupid fucking book, and he's stuck with it; Every second Tony can't just burn it and be done with the horrific thing makes his skin crawl more and more) around for emphasis, "so I'll be blunt: your old handler is dead, your new one got busted when you did. There is no mission to report, no base to return to-- nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Trying to get out of here would just be wasting your time, and mine."

"If you don't want a truce, we can try a deal, or--or you can sit in the fucking corner pouting for the indefinite future for all I care. And, trust me, I would love to let you go, but I can't. We're stuck with each other, at least until Steve comes back and grovels or breaks you out and takes you off the grid, what-fucking-ever he's going to do--" to make my life harder almost slips out, but Tony clamps down on it at the last second. His sentence ends awkwardly, evident he was planning on saying more, but he didn't.

Steve. Oh. Tony probably should've brought that particular subject up with more tact. Uh, whoops. Well. Can't go back now. And, really, it's fine (surely). Barnes-- The Solider-- isn't made of glass.

"This is bigger than the both of us. You're dead center in the middle of a political shitstorm, Barnes. At best, I help you with the Hydra Mindfuck, and you get to decide where your little pawn goes on this ridiculous chess board. At worst, you're no better than a bargaining chip to these people."

"They want Steve to sign this thing called the Accords. He won't, and people in high places are desperate," He says, just in case The Solider isn't in the loop about any of this. "You're Steve's weakness," Tony adds, with no small amount of vitriol, "So, y'know. Put two and two together. Rescuing a renowned war hero that's been a POW to Nazis for the past 70 years doesn't exactly hurt, either."

(God, Tony feels a migraine coming on.)

"So, yeah. Cooperate, or don't, your choice. I don't like this any better than you probably do; I'd gladly let you and Steve run off and get a newlywed cabin in the Poconos, make all this his problem, but it's--"

Clear as a photograph, Wanda's diverted explosion and the casualties as a result play in Tony's mind. Every causality since the Battle of New York and where Tony all started it all with Iron Man along with it. It's nauseating that there's so many that Tony couldn't begin to remember individual faces, even if he tried. It'll always be apart of the job, Accords or no, but... hopefully less. It's finally what makes him lose steam, his shoulders deflating.

"It's not that simple," is what he settles on, and it comes out world worn.

(It's strange to think that Barnes is technically as old as Tony's father, maybe even older, because he certainly doesn't look it. Technically hasn't lived it, because being in cryo for a majority of the past seven decades doesn't really count (and being brainwashed into an assassin certainly doesn't, either.))

Tony hasn't really been looking at The Solider, is honestly afraid to look to see how he's taking all this. He's interrupted from having to; Ever helpful in saving Tony from himself, FRIDAY makes her presence known again.

"Boss, if I may," FRIDAY starts, like she's not going to keep talking anyway, "it's unlikely Hydra gave Sergeant Barnes much time for the news or pop culture, and you've yet to introduce yourself."

"Ah. Good catch, babygirl."

He genuinely considers any of the usual smart ass or cheeky lines he gives, but Tony's not feeling it.

Oh.

Well, there's one thing that's yet to be addressed, and if they're going to be stuck together, it's pretty damn important, too. Maybe that's a good place to start.

"Can't give you the full effect without the helmet, but the suit's self explanatory-- I'm Iron Man. When I'm not fighting aliens or Nazis or babysitting for the government-- It's uh, Tony. Stark." The next words out of his mouth feel like lead, taste like it. Tony sounds small to his own ears, "only child of Howard and Maria Stark."

(There's the intrusive thought born from hysteria, unshakable in Tony's mind, that this is going to be incredibly awkward if Hydra wiped The Solider so thoroughly each time that he couldn't remember the names-- or faces-- of his targets. Somehow, though, he has a feeling that isn't the case.)
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[personal profile] aubbiemoose 2025-05-15 07:31 pm (UTC)(link)
Should he feel scared, being called a "loose end"? Almost definitely, but Tony doesn't. Well, for one, if Hydra wanted him dead, then he would be, but two, no matter what he felt-- feels-- about his parents, a part of him died in that car that day, regardless if he was there or not. Yinsen had said he was a man who had everything, and a man who had nothing, and he'd been right. Howard and Maria Stark were his only family. Kind of a shitty family, yeah, but family nonetheless. Tony's of course grateful he has Rhodey and Pepper, always has been and always will be, but...

(He can't think of an end to that sentence. Maybe there isn't one. Even the closest people to him feel like they're at least an arm's length away; The presence of them in Tony's life doesn't keep him from being depressingly alone in his ivory tower (at one time, metaphorically, but now maybe a little too literally.)

Tony smiles, but it's not kind. Maybe not mean, either, per se, nor is it mocking or anything like that. Tired. Frustrated, sure. At the end of his rope. Humorless. "Could seems to be the word of the day, doesn't it?"

He turns the book over in his hands, considering. Lets the crumbs of what the Soldier gave him really sink in, look at things from all angles. Tony's brain is always going a mile a minute, so it doesn't take him very long at all. It probably takes him longer to consider what he wants to say next.

(There's something there in the way the Soldier said, "this Steve," but it's not the most pressing issue. They'll get back to that. It's just another puzzle piece in the sea of them, but thankfully, Tony is pretty damn good at puzzles.)

"You don't think I know that? That I'm compromised, that is. Like I said, I'd happily let you on your way if I could. If I had a choice in the matter, I wouldn't touch any of this with a ten foot pole. I'm stuck with you just as much as you're stuck with me."

There was a time where Tony couldn't imagine anyone telling him what to do. (Well, barring Pepper and Rhodey, but that's different.) Oh, how things change. As he keeps flipping the book in the air by the spine, and then catching it, a thought does come up, unbidden.

What if that isn't how it has to be?

Ross would be beyond livid with him, but... Tony's the one here, right now, and the Solider is in his custody, not Ross'. And besides, Tony has standards-- the suffering of one doesn't equate to less than the suffering of the many. What's the point of signing the Accords, of making others sign it, if the Soldier has to suffer for it?

"Being emotionally compromised does have its benefits, though," Tony says, obviously ramping up for something. "You know what I could gain from this, what I might want to. Hell, you even said it yourself: I could order you to do anything."

"So let me ask you this, Soldier," He cocks his head to the side, the full force of his considering gaze turned onto the man his opposite strapped to the gurney, "why haven't I?"

Tony's not actually expecting a verbal answer, it's rhetorical and meant to get the Soldier thinking. Because it's a very fair point, isn't it? Tony knows why he hasn't, of course, but to someone in the Solider's situation, there's no reason for Tony to not have, not a single one. Maybe this is the key to building some modicum of trust between them.

"It would be easier, less of a hassle. There's no need to bluff about wanting to help if there's an assured method of compliance." Tony stands, but it's only to turn his chair around the proper way. "Nothing makes sense unless I'm telling the truth, right?"

He leans forward, elbows to knees, the hand with the book in it hanging limp between his legs. It's easy to feel the bitter anger abating somewhat, because Steve isn't here right now, it's Tony and the Solider. the Solider doesn't need his bitterness at Steve right now, especially not if he might not even remember him, currently.

"Believe me if you want, or don't. It's not going to matter, because I'll do you a solid, Solider-- I'll prove it to you."

(Ross would probably be screaming at him right about now, and the thought does make the corners of Tony's lips twitch up just slightly, without him even realizing it. Ross can, kindly, go suck a dick, though. If he wanted someone to follow things by the book, he shouldn't've asked Tony to do the job.)

"The only reason I haven't burned this thing yet is because I figured it was the only way to get you to take me seriously. That, and because the guy holding my leash right now would probably rip me a new one. Because what's a little more brainwashing to add to the pile? What's a little more when it's for "the greater good," when it might be the only shot we have at Steve signing the Accords?" With a humorless snort, Tony adds, "wouldn't be surprised if the U.S. government just wanted to hoard another "weapon" for themselves. Because clearly we can be trusted with it, while everyone else in the world can't. Nuclear bombs turned out so well for us."

(Tony will never really know what his father was thinking with that, but this isn't the time to critique the sins of the past.)

"But you know what, Barnes? Fuck that. You said there wasn't a choice, and I thought so too, but I'm not satisfied with that. So my choice is to give you one. I'm going to put your fate into your hands for the first time in seventy years."

Once upon a time, Tony enjoyed to gamble. That last game of craps right before he left for Afghanistan in the morning, and his life changed irrevocably, forever. This certainly is one, a gamble that is, but it doesn't feel like the wrong one. It's been awhile since Tony's flown too close to the sun, anyway.

Tony stands, and it's with intention now. "The book? It's yours to do what you want with it. Given how closely kept of a secret it is, I'm almost positive it's the only of its kind."

He tosses the book onto the Solider's legs. Next up is the real scary part, the kind that makes Tony's hand's shake.

Tony steps out of the suit. It's obvious, like this, how much height and bulk it gives him. The cut of his arms is unobstructed in his tank top, but it's nowhere near enough to fight the Solider off effectively. Maybe he's impressive for a regular human, but at the end of the day he's un-enhanced, plain and simple. Scary part, part two: he rucks his shirt up to expose the arc reactor to the Solider.

"Boss--" FRIDAY's worry is evident, even with her synthetic voice, but Tony waves her off. She doesn't protest further, almost like she's waiting with the AI equivalent of a bated breath.

"I've read it, so even destroying that book won't erase that. But I can give you my Achilles' heel, so at least we're even." There's a soft ping as Tony taps against the blueish glowing glass of the reactor. "So, hey-- this is what's keeping me alive. Neat little thing that's this whole incredible innovation, but that's not important. What it does, is keep the shrapnel in my chest from migrating to my heart. Before this, it was an electromagnet attached to a car battery."

It's not funny at all, but Tony laughs. Really, what else can you do, when talking about something horrifically traumatic that still haunts you to this day? Tony's always been the type to handle his own problems with way too much levity, anyway.

It's hard to doubt that he's telling the truth-- the reactor is clearly in his chest, and Tony's scars make it obvious what he's been through. Being blown up and riddled with shrapnel is pretty unmistakable (even among all the other scars he's gained as Iron Man.) He still pulls the thing out of his chest socket, though, shows it off for the Soldier to see. As he does so, Tony's Starkwatch starts beeping at him in that way it does when it can tell the reactor isn't in his body. Thats what Tony programmed it to do, but even if he didn't, it would because his pulse starts to drop and he edges closer to entering cardiac arrest. Snapping it back in gives him an immediate rush of relief, though he's never quite gotten used to the feel of magnetism pulling the shrapnel back up through flesh.

Tony's hands are still shaking a little when he starts to deftly undo the Solider's binds. He's pretty sure he's not about to die, so it's more adrenaline now, but you never know.

"What you do with that-- the book, my secret-- is up to you. I can't stand him right now, but if there's one thing I'll always love about what Steve taught me--" the last binding falls away, oddly impactful, "there's always a choice."

The loose thread is hanging in the Solider's face, now, ripe for the taking. Tony sitting back down really is when it all hits him-- what the hell is he doing?-- but at the very least, it's guilt off his shoulders. He's seen how inhumanly speedy the Solider is-- Tony wouldn't be able to get the words out fast enough (if he were the type to use them) before he'd be dismantled, then dead. Making it an even playing field. But it's also more than that-- he's no longer lording the Soldier's mental and bodily autonomy over him.

"If you're planning on trying to get your handler back and return to base, I can't let you go, in what's hopefully obvious given, the, y'know," he gestures at the Iron Man suit as way of explanation, "but otherwise, you know what? Fuck Ross, fuck his stupid plan. The Accords are important to me, but not so much that I'm going to make you suffer to get Steve to see reason."

He's Tony Stark. He can find another way, and he will. It's what he always does, it's his fucking job description to problem solve.

"Oh. And before you ask-- there's no point in getting revenge against you. That's like sentencing the gun to a murder trial. Finding out who pulled the trigger-- hmm, no, loaded the chamber, maybe is better-- and making them pay, will be much, much better."

Tony's not a saint-- of course he's still angry and bitter and hurt and every negative emotion under the sun about what the Soldier did to his parents. Maybe he never will stop being that, even if it lessens. Punishing the Solider when he was just made to do it, against his will, wouldn't rid Tony of that nor lessen it. And getting rid of the book hopefully means no other person-- the Solider included-- will suffer at the hands of it.

"Your move, Sarge. The ball's in your court."
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[personal profile] aubbiemoose 2025-05-17 09:11 am (UTC)(link)
Especially as he gets older, Tony's mind moves faster than his body. Maybe this is what people mean when they say that everything starts to move in slow motion; He sees it coming-- the Solider springing up, advancing on him. But no amount of his brain screaming at him makes up for the input delay, or the fact that the Soldier pins Tony to the chair with his corded thighs.


His gasp is quite literally strangled out of him. Tony can instantly feel that tightness in his chest, the feeling of his heart jackrabbiting. Instinct makes him wrap his fingers around the Soldier's metal wrist, despite him knowing it's futile. This isn't his first time in a near death situation without the suit-- hell, he'd been kidnapped who knows how many times long before Iron Man even existed, but it's still a fear like no other. It's easy to forget he's not invincible when he wears the suit, but even in it, he is still human, and very much not.

Air feels thin; A lot flits through Tony's mind. He thinks of Rhodey, Pepper. His beloved creations, even the ones that can't be trusted not to put motor oil in his coffee. The people counting on him, superhero or no. The weight of the Iron Man mantle.

And of course, he thinks of his parents.

Though maybe Tony's experiencing some insane, rapid onset hysteria, because what lances through everything-- even the sinking gut feeling that he's going to see his mom again real soon, that he's going to have lived like Howard, and have died like him-- is the thought, huh. Who knew that Bucky Barnes would be so beautiful?

The Solider looks more animated than Tony's ever seen him. He's like a cornered animal right now: Wild hair, wild eyes, desperation and fear and anger so potent you could choke (hah) on it. Objectively, that part isn't beautiful, but the fact that the person lurking beneath has finally surfaced? That is. The Solider's fear and anger is hot and strong like a blaze-- how could anyone ever take that from this man? Take any of it, all of it? Maybe Tony's about to die, but there's comfort in knowing that it isn't the programming that's responsible.

(If anyone deserves to die as the first act of the Soldier's new autonomy, it's probably Tony Stark. The blood on Tony's hands is all his own-- not knowing has never made him feel less guilty nor less responsible. And no amount of Iron Man or charities and fundraisers or any good deed on the planet can make up for what he's done.)

Through the blood rushing in his ears, Tony catches the Solider asking to see his assistant. His... assistant? What? He hasn't had one since Natasha used the position to infiltrate SI.

The confusion must show on his face, because the metal hand around his throat tightens.

There's that spark of fear that the Solider somehow means Pepper, but it's snubbed out when Tony finally connects the dots. He never got another assistant because JARVIS handled everything just fine, and it was safer. After him, FRIDAY.

Tony's mouth opens and closes, gaping like a fish out of water, but he can't get any words out. Thankfully, he doesn't have to.

"Sergeant Barnes, if I'm the assistant that you're referring to, I'm afraid that speaking to you like this is the best I can do. I'm not a person, I'm an artificial intelligence that Sir built." She doesn't mince her words (and if he's not mistaken, FRIDAY purposely tries to sound more 'robotic' than usual to get the point across. Smart girl. Tony's heart swells in fondness, but it's mostly overshadowed by the fuckfuckfuck of his brain telling his body that it's fucking dying.)

He's definitely regretting not building FRIDAY some kind of body right about now, though, and her piloting one of his suits and walking it in here definitely wouldn't go over well. The Soldier's essentially holding him hostage, and he's scared and jumpy and distrusting. It's probably only going to get worse-- Tony knows what happens when hostage demands aren't met.

"What is it that you require from me? From Sir? We'll do what we can to accommodate you, Sergeant."

My AI is using her learning model to train herself in hostage negotiations, Tony thinks, and dark spots are dancing in his vision. Will FRIDAY stand by and let the Solider kill him? She's surely monitoring his vitals right now, and Tony doubts she'd just stand by, but--

There is no but. As much as Tony feels he deserves it, the Solider killing him will just make everything a hundred times worse. He doesn't think people would be so understanding and kind, all of a sudden. Tony blinks away the image of the Soldier, swarmed by military, shot or beaten broken and bloody. Half unfocused, unseeing eyes slip down to the book, clutched in a shaking flesh hand. Tony hopes FRIDAY catches it on one of the cameras, because that's the crux of this whole thing, right? Loose ends. The Solider can't be free until anyone who knows the contents of that book is left alive.

"Sir did not reveal with me any information or specifics of your condition. Nor did he document it anywhere." (If Tony makes it out of this alive, he's going to be such a proud papa later.) "I've been reviewing surveillance footage, Sergeant, and Sir was the last person to open the book. Baron Zemo has admitted in SHEILD interrogation that he is the one who... "activated" you, although he is refusing to reveal to anyone on how he did so. Other than that it's possible with the book you're holding, Sergeant, the Baron has said nothing."
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[personal profile] aubbiemoose 2025-05-17 02:37 pm (UTC)(link)
It takes them a beat or two to figure out the rhythm, but then Tony and the Solider move like a well oiled machine. Too bad it's only because Tony's being held hostage.

The bite of metal digging into the skin of his neck is still harsh (especially when getting manhandled one handed-- Jesus, Mary and Joseph, would that be hot in any other context), but at least he can breathe now. Somewhat. Which means he can talk.

"Fri," he croaks, hurried. Tony's not sure how long he has to do this; FRIDAY could've assembled the team already. "Don't... let anyone hurt him. Please." And Tony really does mean anyone. "Not a--not even a scratch."

(It would be simple to blame this, too, on Steve, but Tony would be lying to himself. This got personal the second that those desperate, terrified eyes met his. Tony himself wouldn't be here today if it weren't for someone helping him, even when said man had every reason not to. If Tony can be half the man Yinsen was, he's got to try.

Maybe he sort of understands why Steve would burn the world down for this man.)

"Roger that, boss." FRIDAY sounds hesitant, unsure, but Tony knows she'll listen.

Obviously, the Soldier brandishing a scalpel and the blade shoved up against his skin are things Tony knows are happening, and maybe it's adrenaline, but he can't even register the sensation. What does register is how fucking warm the Solider is. (The serum, maybe? Tony vaguely remembers Steve running hot like a furnace.)

His head is spinning to a nauseating degree, and although they feel too fucking loud in the otherwise dead silent hallways, his wet, gasping breaths are helping to fight down bile. (Christ. Why does it feel like his bones are trying to escape his skin? Tony should get a medal for not projectile vomiting everywhere and ending up the world's most embarrassing hostage.)

"Th...The elevators." They've started passing windows by this point, which is good-- the Soldier might not've believed Tony about being so high up, otherwise. Plus, trying to maneuver down the entire building's flight of stairs with a hostage (and a fumbling, vertigo ridden one, at that)? Yeah, not happening. Any risk with an elevator is much, much smarter. And faster.

For the both of them, Tony says, "garage. Quieter than the front. Cars," because FRIDAY is opening everything up for them, and the Solider seems marginally less twitchy when Tony tells him where they're going or what's coming up next.
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[personal profile] aubbiemoose 2025-05-18 08:00 am (UTC)(link)
The searing pain sends him to the ground, but the shock is what keeps him there. Preparing to die and being so certain it'll happen, only for it to not-- well, it's jarring.

"Boss?" FRIDAY's voice bounces around to the echo in the garage. It's probably the ordeal Tony just went through, but he can't exactly tell her tone. It doesn't seem particularly good, though.

"Yeah, babygirl, I'm fine," he grunts. Tony pulls himself off the ground, winces and hisses in pain when his stabbed leg takes his weight.

Okay. Situation assessment. Firstly, Tony is so screwed. In hindsight, should he have expected the Solider to freak the fuck out and lash out? Yes. Hell, he even walked in there knowing it was likely, it's why they'd tied him down to begin with, but--

Well. It's not like he forgot. It just didn't seem all that important when Tony was the only person in reach. He'd examine that feeling later, except martyrdom and suicidal ideation are definitely not new, and when has Tony ever consciously examined his own feelings? Stark men are made of iron, after all.

(He can mock Howard for that until the day he dies, but Tony's uncomfortably aware with the fact that he internalized it and internalized it hard.)

It's not hard to guess where the Solider is heading. The only other person holding the keys to his imprisonment is alive and well, sitting like a duck in custody.

"Fri, deploy the nearest suit." Tony doesn't have time to spare. Unfortunately for his leg, that means the scalpel has got to go. Luckily he doesn't start bleeding out all over the floor, but it's still... pretty bad. He undoes his belt and starts doing up a tourniquet above the wound, but the fact FRIDAY hasn't responded yet makes him pause. "Fri?"

"Boss, I don't think it's advisable--"

"I've suited up in worse condition than this," Tony doesn't realize how harsh he sounds until it's already out of his mouth. Softer, he adds, "besides, I don't really have a choice. This is my mistake, and I need to fix it. I just have to make it to Zemo before he does."

Which seems completely doable, though apparently Tony not using his brain is a theme today.

"What about civilian casualties?"

"Civilian c--" The confusion and outrage was obvious, and he didn't even get a full sentence out.

"Boss," FRIDAY's definitely reprimanding him now. "Sergeant Barnes took you hostage, and could've-- almost-- killed you. It's highly likely he'll do the same to anyone else he perceives as an obstacle. Someone in his state is unpredictable at best, and dangerous at worst."

Oh.

Maybe it's because of Steve, but Tony had been operating under the assumption that when freed from Hydra programming, Barnes wouldn't willingly hurt anyone. Lashing out at Tony hadn't seemed so outlandish-- he'd told the man he knew the code words, after all. But when reframing it:

The Solider didn't kill Tony. Whether it was because Tony revealed his greatest weakness to him, or the Solider had some other sort of undefinable piece of logic to go on, didn't matter. What matters is what he does see-- or did, specifically for reflecting on the minutes prior-- Tony as.

An obstacle in the way of his freedom. That doesn't make Tony unique, that means every single unsuspecting citizen of New York who crossed the Soldier's path was now a target.

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

The only thing keeping the panic attack away was the need to get off his ass and move. He didn't have time to spiral, but regardless of outcome he surely would later. Thankfully FRIDAY got him a suit as requested, and he took off.

The Solider had taken one of Tony's cars, so FRIDAY was easily able to track it and put it on Iron Man's radar. There was no telling how long they had until he decided to ditch the car, though, and that was the truly scary part.

"FRIDAY, what kind of access do you have to the car?"

No response. He double checked and, yeah, she was online in the suit. So she was ignoring him.

Tony has been down this road before. Like her predecessor, FRIDAY only ignored him or directly disobeyed when she had reason to believe that the positives would outweigh the negatives, especially in matters regarding Tony's wellbeing or those he'd deemed as important.

Don't... let anyone hurt him. Please. ... Not a--not even a scratch.

Rapid fire conclusions:
• Ordering that of her would certainly deem him as an important person, if the Solider falling under his care hadn't already.
• The order didn't have any date or deadline to it, meaning she'd enact it until ordered otherwise or physically unable to.
• If it was found he'd hurt innocent civilians, no one could stop the military or any superheroes currently under their purview from apprehending the Solider, and who knows what kind of harm that would entail.
• FRIDAY is ultimately a machine, and therefore sometimes lacks nuance or purposefully avoids it. Tony hadn't specified that the harm includes emotional or mental wellbeing.

That last point was crucial.

Ross had given him permission to use the code words in a case of emergency. Permission for him was by extension, permission for FRIDAY. She was his AI-- even if he hadn't given her the code words, if anyone would find them out, FRIDAY would. She knew Tony didn't want to use them, but as established, she disobeyed what Tony wanted when it was for a good cause. Not hurting innocents? Yeah, definitely a good cause. Using the words was the only way to completely assure the Solider didn't get out of the car.

When the little red dot on the suit's UI stopped moving, Tony's stomach dropped out from under him, and he'd known she'd done it. FRIDAY had ordered the Solider to stay put.

"It's done, boss." Her voice was gentle in his ear. As much remorse as an AI could manage was present, but Tony had a feeling she probably wasn't all that sorry. Tony was, in every sense of the word, furious, but he couldn't deny it: she'd done the right thing. Tony only had himself to be mad at. He was the reason she'd ended up having to use the words.

The suit circled the car, landing by the driver's side door. Stock still with both hands still gripping the wheel in a death grip, was the Solider. The Solider's breathing was quick and unsteady, and those same wide, scared eyes flicked over to Tony as he lifted up the face plate. There wasn't much expectation to disappoint, but Tony's pretty sure he sees hurt and betrayal there.

"I'm sorry." Tony knows it's not going to do jackshit, but he still has to apologize. "She acted of her own discretion." He awkwardly pauses as he gets into the passenger side, suit and all, before continuing, "I did said I would come after you if you were planning on going back to your handler-- Fri just didn't want you to hurt anyone before I got here."

Thankfully he doesn't have to figure out how to move the Soldier out of the driver's seat-- this is one of the cars that FRIDAY can autopilot, and she directs them back towards the tower. Tony, a little bitterly, wonders why she didn't just do this first, but even locking the Soldier in the car couldn't stop him from breaking the windows or the guts or anything like that, and people will go to any lengths when they're desperate.
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[personal profile] aubbiemoose 2025-05-18 06:41 pm (UTC)(link)
Silver metal meets red and gold as Tony takes the Solider's hand. He lets the man help him up, but that's about it.

"You don't need to coddle me. I'm already keeping you stuck here, I'm not going to make you butler me, too." Although the words are harsh, Tony's tone isn't. He already feels bad enough (and it's pretty obvious, which is disconcerting on its own-- the Solider brings it out of him, apparently). If he wanted someone to wait on him hand and foot, he could pay someone. Tony doesn't need to brainwash someone into it.

Now that the adrenaline's fading, Tony's really feeling the events of the past few hours. The suit is absolutely the only thing keeping him upright. He starts to stagger back towards the elevator, but then he remembers: right. Not alone. Sheepishly, he turns around to look at the Solider.

"Truce, for real this time? As long as you stay in the tower, you're welcome to do your own thing. But-- I get it, big, scary place, and you can't trust anyone but yourself." Tony usually tries to tamp down on his stims around other people, but he definitely doesn't have the brainpower for that at the moment. The awkward movement of rubbing his knuckles against his chest around the reactor would be mortifying if he even realized he was doing it, but he doesn't. "I'm heading down to my workshop. Feel free to tag along if you want to keep an eye on me, or something. But no pressure." It's not meant as a trap or a trick, it's a genuine offer, and Tony's pretty sure he comes across as sincere, for whatever that means to the Soldier.

(Tony let Clint lurk in his vents for a reason, okay? If keeping an eye on all of them helped soothe him, then by all means. Same with Natasha, but he honestly had no fucking clue how she did it, even to this day.)

The Soldier probably could (and would) slip the Tower's security, but surely not so soon after what just happened. Tony genuinely felt bad that FRIDAY had leverage over the Soldier and had shown she wasn't afraid to use it, but trust was going to be slow going anyway. Maybe it would never happen at all, but Tony at least hoped the Soldier would eventually get the idea that he had the guy's best interests in mind.

"Is it too much to ask DUM-E to get the first aid kit and not break something in the process, babygirl?" It's a lot easier to pretend that business is as usual than to feel it, but Tony's been in front of the press his whole life, he's well practiced in acting. The fact his hands are still shaking is a secret the Iron Man suit has always been good at keeping.

"Most likely. But I'm sure he'll do his best, boss."
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[personal profile] aubbiemoose 2025-05-19 05:42 pm (UTC)(link)
Getting sucked up in work is the thing Tony is best at, and it's exactly what he does. The fact that it's been hours doesn't even consciously register beyond the increasing number of coffee mugs in the corner, and various aches and pains that snap him from his focus upping in frequency.

It's not unusual for him to be so absorbed he doesn't notice people entering his space, especially with his usual tendency of blasting music at full volume, but what he does usually notice is FRIDAY warning him. So when the Solider's voice is suddenly right fucking behind him, Tony makes a very undignified yelp and jumps, like, five feet in the air. (Not actually, but he startles rather spectacularly.) It's his gut reaction to make some kind of quip, no wonder you were a renowned assassin, or, fuck, we should get you a bell, but it dies on his tongue. Mostly because of the sharp jab of pain that runs through him, but Tony also needs to try and be more conscious than ever over his actions and their consequences. "Hey there, tall, dark and handsome. Didn't see you there," is what he lands on, which. Yeah. Probably the best Tony's gonna get in terms of censoring himself.

Between the pain that jostling his leg brings up, and checking around for the time, it takes a moment for the Soldier's words to sink in. He looks down, and, yeah, sure enough, "oh. I guess I am." It's easy to wave it off, though, because, "I've had worse. It'll be fine."

There's an awkward silence, thick with unease. If asked how he knew, Tony wouldn't be able to pinpoint it, but the Solider's giving off this tense and uncomfortable vibe. It might be more intuitive leap than any actual social cue, but whatever. Safe assumption. But it's fine. Tony can talk enough for two people.

"Welcome to my humble abode, Sarge!" He does a miniature sweeping hand motion, showing off the room at large. It's kind of a joke, because the place is far from humble, but most definitely screams Tony Stark. Disorganized chaos? Check. Projects and papers and scrap metal and wiring galore on every available surface? Also check. A surprising amount of Iron Man merchandise or memorabilia interspersed with nerdy decor or things so hilariously bad or cheesy that it can only be ironic? Yep. The couch more comfortable than it has any right to be, shoved in the first available corner and covered in pillows and blankets because Tony sleeps down here more often than he doesn't? Mmmmhm. There's also the kitchenette, but it's mostly used for coffees and smoothies than any actual cooking. Tony keeps it stocked like every other fridge in the Tower, but he usually only bothers with takeout.

Also, yes, the time away has made his decision firmly clear: business is as usual, water under the bridge. Tony doesn't really see any point in scuttling around the Soldier like an anxious mouse, seems like a recipe for making the guy more uneasy and on edge. Okay, granted, overly chatty and larger than life probably will also do that, but Tony doesn't exactly have an off switch for that. It also seems like a pretty good way to attempt to put all of his cards on the table, without sitting down and having to talk feelings. What would he even say? Actions speak louder than words.

(Although, it might come off as cockiness, or a taunt-- turning his back to this man, seemingly unafraid that the Solider will lash out because of FRIDAY. That sends unease through Tony, but he hasn't really come up with a way to convince the guy of the contrary. Maybe taking him out on missions? Though putting a gun in the guy's hands seems like an equally intense way of saying, I dare you to try it.)

"What can I do you for?" Instead of bothering (attempting) to stand, he shoves his little swivel chair across the linoleum, sliding smoothly into the kitchenette. "Oh, that reminds me. I should set you up with your own floor. Fri, babygirl, put it on my list?"

"You got it, boss. What orders should I put in?"

"Nothin' too fancy. Steve got overwhelmed when I went all out; Better to let Barnes decide for himself." Tony's been rummaging through cabinets and drawers as he talks. DUM-E moved the protein bars. Again. And the fancy little coffee pods for the ridiculously expensive coffee machine. Thankfully, he finds them, making a small, triumphant noise.

"Feel free to help yourself. If you aren't a coffee or tea kind of guy, there's a ton of shit in the fridge. I've got alcohol around here somewhere, but I don't keep it in the lab anymore." If he says so himself, Tony's getting pretty good at this sobriety thing. Sometimes all that keeps him on the wagon is pure fucking spite, but he does do it.

The protein bar is almost half inhaled when he has the idea to ask, "Fri, when's the last time I ate?"

"Over seventeen hours ago." Oh. She does not sound happy. No wonder he feels like death warmed over. Contrary to popular belief (or unpopular, really, because it's only himself that is so insistent), he cannot survive on caffeine alone.

The possibility of it being almost that long or longer since the Solider has eaten does cross Tony's mind, but it might be an awkward subject to breach. Well. Even if he has had something while he's been doing whatever it is since Tony last saw him, Steve could literally always go for more food, so it's safe to assume the Solider would be the same. Doesn't hurt to offer. Probably.

"You hungry, Sarge? Got a takeout preference?" Now he slides over to the other end of the workshop, ends in a sort of semi intentional traffic collision with one of the bots. Butterfingers beeps happily at Tony, spins in a little circle when he gives her a pet like a dog. She also seems content to be used as a cheek rest, and Tony doesn't say no. "If you're more about home cooked meals, any fridge should have what you need. I can't cook to save my life, so, you don't want me in a kitchen."

He's about to leave it there, but there's this way that the Soldier is looking at him now, has been ever since the Sarge's and the Barnes's, that makes Tony pause. He also remembers earlier, how the guy had said this Steve, like he didn't remember him at all. Tony was under the assumption that referring to him as the person he was before the brainwashing would be more humanizing, but maybe it's the opposite? He'd probably feel pretty damn disconnected from himself, too, if all he'd known for seventy years was being the Solider.

"Actually, is 'Barnes' fine? 'James'? 'Bucky'? That one feels a little personal, but you never know. I figured if we're going to be living together, I should at least ask what you like to be called. I'm definitely not calling you the Asset." A pause, Tony sitting back up, hand to his chin, considering. "Solider?" That might not be any better than the Asset, but it's also not exactly uncommon. Sort of like calling him Sergeant, really.
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[personal profile] aubbiemoose 2025-05-20 05:57 pm (UTC)(link)
Okay. Guess they'll put a pin in the name topic. "Hey, no sweat. We'll figure something out. Sometimes it takes time to find the name that feels like it--" Tony circles a hand over his whole person, stalling to find the right words. "Covers all the bases," is what he settles on, and, yeah, basically.

(If anyone would know, it's Tony. He hadn't always been Anthony Edward Stark, after all. Now that Tony thinks about it, he and Soldier might have more in common than anticipated. At least in the figuring out who you really are, muddled by a lifetime of people telling you who you should be, area, anyway.)

Abundance of choice could be (and in Soldier's case, it definitely seemed like it was) overwhelming. Probably double the overwhelm when all you've known was a life where that wasn't an option. Baby steps. Tony has FRIDAY order Chinese (Tony Stark's billionaire priorities: knowing places that served takeout, let alone were open, at ridiculous hours of the morning), and he gets a little bit of everything, along with his usual. Soldier could try things and see what he liked.

Another silence fell, still awkward (but maybe less so?). Tony honestly thought that was it, started half checking out as he focused back in on work, but then--

Take off your pants. Or I'll cut them off.

The long day has worn down his defenses. Like an icy grip on his brain stem, Tony's suddenly stuck, and he only has one way to go: backwards. He's heard those words before (or some variation of) many times before, and it's like he's there all over again. Coherent thought slips through Tony's fingers like sand in an hourglass. If he could, he'd flinch at the way Soldier is advancing on him, like he's not going to take no for an answer.

They never take no for an answer--

But then Soldier is kneeling at Tony's feet, and for all his blankness, he looks oddly soft. Or maybe Tony's just projecting again. Whatever. It's such a deviation from the script of Tony's past experiences that it snaps him out of it, like a bucket of cold water was dumped on his head. The breath he sucks in is shaky, but at least he isn't hyperventilating or anything.

His leg. Right. Okay. Tony can do that.

"Um, yeah-- yeah, I guess. If you, uh, insist."

It isn't until his stiff fingers have started to undo his belt in a daze that another pretty crucial thing comes to Tony. This one is still nerve wracking, but at least not PTSD inducing.

By nature of being as famous as Tony is, he hasn't had to come out since he first did so. It's at least one thing he appreciates about being in the spotlight. Bigots will be bigots and people will be rude or well meaning but inappropriate, but every transgender person has to go through that. Any cons are far outweighed by the positives, in his case. It's relieving and refreshing when everyone is on the same page.

But Soldier... probably isn't on the same page. In and out of ice for seventy years doesn't leave a lot of time to, well, be with the times. Plus, Tony finds it hard to believe the group of uber fascists would be eagerly introducing their asset to the idea of queer people. If they did at all, it definitely wasn't positive. And who knows how much information Soldier has to work on, prior to all that! Not that Tony cares what other people think, but he'd really like to not go through another near death experience today, thanks.

(No wonder Soldier didn't recognize him. Tony hadn't started to transition properly until after his parents died. If Hydra had given him information on the Stark's next of kin, it would've been about a daughter, not a son.)

This probably wouldn't even be an issue if he hadn't taken out his packer, but, like, sue him, okay? He wasn't exactly expecting to do anything but hide away in the workshop, and he definitely wasn't expecting to take his pants off in front of someone else and have said person get in direct sight line with his crotch.

Tony wasn't going to say a damn thing, and, who knows-- maybe Soldier would be too occupied with Tony's shitty first aid to notice. (Yeah, asking a sniper not to notice something? Pigs are more likely to fly. Hell, it's not like a layer of denim does much for him-- maybe Soldier already noticed.) Tony didn't even think about it (clearly) before now, but showing off the arc reactor also meant showing Soldier his top scars.

Well, whatever. It would come out eventually. Especially with all the time they were theoretically going to be spending together.

Pop the button, undo the fly, remember he probably has to take his sneakers off first, then shimmy the denim down his legs. The only thing more mortifying would be wearing boxers with Iron Man on them, so thankfully Tony isn't. Not today, at least.

"There's a joke in here somewhere about taking me out to dinner first," he mumbles, more to himself than his audience. Tony suppresses a wince when he has to open his knees to give Soldier more leverage. His only saving grace is that Soldier definitely isn't the nosy type, nor the type to ask questions. Maybe they could ignore the, like, twenty seven different elephants in the room with their combined ability of avoidance.
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[personal profile] aubbiemoose 2025-05-22 12:50 pm (UTC)(link)
The longer time passes with nothing being said-- both literally and in the sense that Soldier doesn't say something like, "hey, bro, where's your dick?" (which, for the record, is absolutely not how he'd phrase it in any known universe, but it's a funny mental image nonetheless)-- Tony relaxes. Or, well, relaxes might be a stretch, but he definitely calms down.

For an assassin, Soldier is shockingly good at this. He's meticulous, precise, and efficient, for starters, but by no means rushed or harsh or anything like that. It's funny: in a way, Soldier's poor bedside manner works in his favor here. Tony's never liked hospitals or doctors, and he's never been comforted by idle chatter and small talk, or any of the other strategies doctors and nurses pull out. The cheer always felt too fake or too patronizing (or both), and he'd always get lectures. Being a genius aside, Tony lives in his own body. He's well aware of the consequences of his shitty self care habits, thank you very much.

What really gets Tony is that Soldier is being so gentle. That, in and of itself, is almost scarier than if Soldier had just been rough about it, or just tried to kill him again. Maybe more so, actually, because Tony's touch-starved skin blooming with happy and overwhelmed warmth, seeking out moremoremore like a sunflower tilting towards the sun is, uh, not ideal. To say the least.

(When was the last time Tony had been handled with care? Excluding Pepper and Rhodey, every moment of contact in recent memory has been of violence, and through a metal suit. And besides, it's not like he sees either of them as often as any of them would like.)

In an attempt to distract himself, Tony focuses in on the metal arm. It's surprisingly dexterous. Soldier uses it like he would a second flesh and blood one, an obvious familiarity with it, but also it really does seem that technologically impressive. The how of Hydra having tech this good, seventy odd years ago, will always bug Tony-- ever the curious, ever the engineer-- but even the best prosthesis is still that: a prosthesis. Does it cause him pain? Are there any problems, areas to improve? Does Soldier do his own upkeep? All that swirls around and around in Tony's overactive mind.

(How much pain would it have to cause Soldier before anyone knew? It's a nauseating thought.)

Just when Tony thinks he'll escape this situation unscathed or with his dignity even somewhat intact, Soldier-- he tucks a lock of his long hair behind his ear, unthinking, another gesture laced with so much familiarity he must do it countless upon countless times. It reminds Tony that he'd thought the guy was beautiful earlier, and that certainly hasn't changed. Even looking worse for the wear (but surely better than how Tony himself is fairing), his hair still tangled and hectic, wearing the same clothes he's been wearing for God knows how long, ragged and tired, Soldier continues to be so. He, by all accounts, shouldn't, and Tony shouldn't even be thinking it, but like the reactor keeping the shrapnel from his heart, Tony feels the pull like a magnet, dragging everything to the surface. He's just glad he has the self restraint to do something like, say, reaching out to touch, finger combing to try and work out the knots and tangles.

Swallowing thickly, like that'll shove everything down, Tony finally feels like he can take a breath when Soldier finishes, and moves away.

"No, it-- uh. It's better. Thanks." The jangling of his belt feels loud as he shimmies back into his jeans. Soldier watching makes Tony's cheeks flush. Maybe it's because they didn't actually do anything sexual at all that makes it more raw and vulnerable and thus, more embarrassing.

"I went ahead and ordered some food for us. Do you--" wait, actually, before that, Tony checks his watch-- and, yeah, FRIDAY's already running a timer for how long they have until it gets here. They'll be just fine. "Do you want me to take you to your floor? I don't know about you, but a shower always helps me feel better after a shitty day."

To anyone else, it would have sounded more like a tease or a jab, a subtle but entirely unstable you smell. But Tony's being entirely truthful, that really is what helps sometimes when nothing else does. Plus, Soldier just looks disheveled, it's not like he was wading through a dumpster or anything. Maybe Tony can introduce him to the wonders of conditioner.

"Figured you might want your own space where people won't bother you. But if it's too much-- we'll figure something out." (He knows he can go overboard with the gift giving. It's just what he does. A love language, even.)

The awkward my leg is injured waddle to the elevator that he does will definitely be funny in the future, but, unfortunately, it's not the future yet. At least it doesn't hurt anymore.
Edited 2025-05-22 15:21 (UTC)
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[personal profile] aubbiemoose 2025-05-25 02:44 pm (UTC)(link)
Sanitation hoses? What?

There were a few things Tony expected Soldier to say, and it wasn't that. It's so jarring that it throws him for a loop, brain buffering like it's on a shitty WiFi signal. An answer starts to come out of his mouth before he fully comprehends why Soldier would be asking that.

"Like a, a decontamination shower? Uh, There's one in any lab in the building? The usual Avengers entrances, too." It's saved them more times than any of them would probably like to admit-- weird alien substances or just the plain ol' mysterious deadly goop is incredibly common in the superhero business.

But that can't be where Soldier is going with this. Even though he hasn't figured it out yet, Tony has that sinking feeling in his gut again that is becoming rapidly familiar. Like his body just knows this is another thing that has to do with shitty Hydra captors and it's preparing for the onslaught of horror and disgust that usually follows in its wake.

"Not much of a use for that in a home bathroom," he says, lightly, and then that's when it hits him like a freight train. Hydra referred to the Winter Soldier as the Asset. Soldier was an assassin, but it was more like he was the gun, and Hydra was the one pulling the trigger. They shoved the guy in cryo whenever they weren't using him, like they were putting him in storage. Of course he probably didn't get to do anything like a person, let alone bathe like one.

(What'd Hydra even do, hose him down like a dog? Though, maybe that was even being too generous, since at least dogs these days went to groomers where there was shampoo and conditioner and haircuts and pampering.)

Tony remembers a time, back when it was just Iron Man, where he'd been hit with this corrosive fluid. The suit had taken the brunt of it, but SHIELD was paranoid, so they'd shoved him into a decontamination room at their facility. Tony had been stark (hah) naked as the day he was born, surrounded by a bunch of guys in hazmat suits. Transgender-ness aside (which SHIELD had known about anyway, the world knows about anyway, so whatever), it was a skin crawling experience, and he'd only done it the once before he installed his own so he'd never have to do that again. Tony can't imagine doing that for seventy fucking years!

Shoving down the horror and outage (and bile) was hard, but Tony managed. He definitely felt it bleed into the smile he flashed Soldier with, yet continued on anyway. "Here, c'mon, I'll show you how it works." While he was at it, he also pointed to the various bottles and things on the shower shelf so Soldier knew what he was working with.

"I don't know if you were thinking about a haircut," Tony starts, as he rifles through the different plastic bottles. He's putting all the ones applicable for Soldier on the top of the shelf, everything else going on the bottom-- mostly just different products meant for hair types the guy doesn't have. "But if not, there's some great stuff in here." Tony squints at the back of a bottle for something he's pretty sure he saw Natasha using once (and thus had JARVIS, at the time, order in bulk), shrugs, and puts it on the top.

"Long hair is the worst when it's all limp and oily," he mumbles. It's said like someone speaking from experience, and well... it is. It was a lifetime ago that his hair was that long, but Tony could never forget what it was like.

"I think we keep razors in the--" He turns around and goes over to the sinks, or, more specifically, the medicine cabinet next to the mirror on the wall over the sinks. "Yeah, here. Not that the scruffy look isn't working for ya', but not everyone enjoys having stubble." Tony shrugs. Calloused fingers smooth over his own meticulously kept goatee, another unconscious movement.

"'Kay, uh. I'll get out of your hair. Any questions? Oh, and towels are over here."
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[personal profile] aubbiemoose 2025-05-27 04:20 pm (UTC)(link)
Soldier dripping all over the place is... better than Tony had expected, actually. After dropping trou with him still in the fucking room, no shame whatsoever, Tony had been mentally preparing himself for the possibility that their new resident would walk out of the bathroom ass naked. Or in just a towel, which would at least be decent, but not by much. So a loose shirt and shorts combo (like Pepper used to wear to bed or after her showers, wait no, don't think about that--) is... yeah. Manageable. They can work up to the concept of drying off with a towel.

"Yup," Tony exaggeratedly pops the p sound. Soldier took long enough in the shower that it gave the delivery time to arrive. He'd arranged all of it out on the coffee table ahead of time. Tossing one of the couch's cushions on the floor in front of the table, Tony gets himself comfortable. "Open stuff and have at whatever looks good. I know you super soldiers need a lot of calories to keep up with your metabolisms, so, eat up! There's plenty."

He hadn't bothered with plates, Tony has always been a eat it straight from the carton guy, but he did grab Soldier a fork. Just in case, right? Who is he to assume that dexterous assassins know how to use chopsticks? Tony hands a pair of chopsticks and the fork over, then breaks open his own. Then, without further ado, he eats.

If there's one benefit to sharing a meal with Tony Stark-- a real, proper meal, not any of those stuffy charity or gala dinners-- it's that he doesn't give it any time to be awkward. There's no attempt at clumsy small talk, no prolonged eye contact-- none of that. He just turns back to his phone, resting screen up on the wood, and talks science and engineering jumbo with FRIDAY like he would in the workshop.

"Pull up a hologram for me, would you, babygirl? Thank you." Tony twirls it this way and that with the back of his chopsticks in between bites.

It's not a disrespect thing. Tony's brain is just constantly running at one hundred miles per hour, he needs to get it out, have something to do with his hands, all of that. Logically, he understands the point, socially, of things like small talk, but it doesn't appeal to him and why bother, when you can get straight to the point? The eye contact thing is similar-- it doesn't come naturally to him, and staring someone in the eye for too long makes him all squirrelly and uncomfortable. He's also, frankly, just bad at it. When do you look? When do you look away? Where is the balance of the two? There's no concrete formula to spell it all out. Taking stabs in the dark and always doing it wrong is beyond frustrating. So, whatever. Being branded as a flighty mess and shocking people when he's actually listening is better than a reputation for staring people down unwaveringly and creeping them out until they're the ones not listening. Okay, that approach still has its uses, but still.

All this is to say, Tony thinks he and Soldier will get along well in this area. Maybe it would be better if Tony could shut up for more than two seconds at a time, but that's just an unfortunate given with him.

"I know the answer to this is probably a resounding no," he starts, suddenly, and this is actually aimed at Soldier, "but I'd be a jerk if I didn't at least offer: if there's anything about that arm that's bothering you, I can fix it up for you." It doesn't really need saying which arm he means, but he gestures at the metal one with his chopsticks anyway. "If you know anything about maintenance or upkeep, I can give you some tools for the smaller stuff."
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[personal profile] aubbiemoose 2025-05-30 04:13 am (UTC)(link)
It does seem like Soldier is more than a little out of his depth, but he's eating the food and doesn't seem too disgruntled or anything, so Tony will count it as a win. Hopefully they can work up to finding out what the guy likes eventually, but for now, this works.

As Soldier relays information about the arm like it's a mission report, Tony chews, considers, listens.

And, okay, look. He knows he should be more delicate about this, but he can't help himself, alright? Pushing buttons until someone breaks is what he's done his whole life, and all things engineering have been his special interest since he was, like, four. Combine the two? Yeah. Also, seriously, the Iron Man suit has how many Marks now? Tony couldn't stop improving things even if he had a gun to his head.

"But, okay, see-- it very might well be malfunctioning. Hydra's definition of malfunctioning could be a whole lot different than mine. I can see that it works, yeah, but is it optimal? Efficient? Is every intended function behaving as expected? Pretty important of a prosthesis: is it causing you pain? Because it shouldn't. Whether they wanted it to hurt, or it's a side effect of old tech and people less competent than I am, I don't know, but, still. If it's hurting or bothering you, it doesn't have to be.

"Things are different now. I want to give you an arm that's yours, not Hydra's."

To avoid eye contact, Tony looks down at his chopsticks and swirls them around in the almost empty container he's holding. If they're on the subject of things Tony could build for Soldier... It might as well be a good time to bring this up, no?

"And... I've been thinking. There's no way you can trust me or anyone until the trigger words are gone, yeah? But relying on what other people do and don't know is inefficient and cumbersome and it doesn't leave the power in your hands. If Hydra could build something over seventy years ago to program the words into you, I bet I could build something to take them out. If they don't work on you anymore, it doesn't matter who does and doesn't know them, right?" He shrugs one shoulder in a motion that could be described as bashful. "You should have the power to decide what you want to do with your life. I got my second chance, and you deserve one, too. What happened to you isn't even your fault, so it's a little bogus that it would be seen as a second chance, but... Can't be picky about public perception. I should know."

In truth, Tony probably won't ever forgive those responsible for what happened to his mom, and, hell, his dad, too, but it wasn't Soldier's fault. The very human part of him will probably always be bitter and hold Soldier with some blame and all those things, but as a whole, he's just another man out of time who had his autonomy taken from him. Maybe it's Steve that makes him want to do right by this man, maybe it's something else, but he does want to do right by Soldier. Fixing him up, right as rain, and giving him a place to stay, that's just what Tony does already. So what's one more person for his brood?

"But I understand that something like that requires a lot of trust-- no offense taken if you just want me to fuck off and leave you be. Just, ah, you know, something to think about."
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[personal profile] aubbiemoose 2025-06-01 04:46 am (UTC)(link)
Tony almost doesn't catch it, but the sound of snapping wood and hitched breathing makes him look at Soldier again fully. For a second it's almost like how he was back out in the field that first time, eyes blank and devoid of anything human, and Tony has that fuckfuckfuckfuck is the Winter Soldier going to attack me moment, but then it clears.

If that didn't give away that something was wrong, completely avoiding the topic of removing the trigger words would've.

Kidnapping a guy and turning him into an assassinating object is bad enough, but putting in a failsafe to prevent the triggers from being removed in the event of his rescue? God. It makes logical sense, and that's what's so sickening about it. How anyone can see a person as no more than an object-- an Asset, well, no, Tony can't fathom that.

This certainly complicates things. He'll figure something out, though. He always does.

"Aye, aye, Soldier. I can do that. We'll get you right as rain in no time."

Tony expects the conversation to end there, but then Soldier asks him if he's going to finish what he's eating, presumably with the intent to finish it instead. Sure, the guy is probably just hungry, crazy metabolism and what not, but just the fact that he's asking, and that it's something Tony can provide, it sends butterflies kicking up a storm in his stomach. He doesn't eat much anyway, so Tony easily acquiesces. "Sure, buddy. Knock yourself out."

Soldier digging into the food (his food) makes the butterflies get worse.

Christ, Tony. Get a grip.

He sits around for some minutes longer, but without the excuse of food or showing Soldier around, Tony has no reason to stay. With a sigh, he stands, stretches and pops. "Back to the workshop with me." (He can already sense Friday's disapproval, but readily ignores it.) "Invitation's always open to you, but I can also just let you know when I finish the first blueprint if you don't want to wait around."

Tony doesn't expect an answer, so he doesn't wait around for one. "'Kay, nighty-night. Give me a holler if you need something."
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[personal profile] aubbiemoose 2025-06-05 10:11 am (UTC)(link)
Maybe not so much for any other project on his plate, but for the new arm, it's a very successful night in the Tony Stark workshop. FRIDAY was able to pull together a hologram from various scans she'd done, giving Tony a base to work off of. And from there, well... He just did what he does best.

Regardless of the condition, he knew immediately that whatever internal wiring was in there, had to go. Who knew what Hydra had going on (which, unfortunately, he wouldn't know for sure until he could get a scan in the workshop itself plus take a look inside), and it was seventy years old, to boot! Yeah, no. Tony absolutely could do better. He planned out roughly what he wanted, but it would get refined and adjusted based on the actual state of Soldier's arm.

Design wise, Tony didn't have much to say. Other than the star (which he was hoping he could talk Soldier into removing, but they'd just have to see), the aesthetics were actually quite nice. He'd see what he could do about what was likely annoying gaps in the finger joints and plates, but everything else seemed fine to stay. That seemed to be what Soldier wanted, also-- Tony was given permission to work off of the old one, not make one from scratch (yet?). No, what would probably be the biggest undergoing was the shoulder joint.

He'd read the files, he saw it on scans-- the thing was drilled into Soldier. Without undergoing major surgery, there was nothing Tony could do to remove it, if Soldier would even let him (and that would definitely be a no). Now, one thing Tony could do was dull or completely block any nerves that might be causing chronic pain. The rest of Soldier's pain, Tony assumes, is from shoddy craftsmanship and repair work. Maybe Tony couldn't remove the arm from being drilled into Soldier, but he could definitely build a better connection point. Hell, maybe he could build some kind of shoulder joint housing, so Soldier could remove the rest of the arm for some relief. And, definitely on the list: hopefully he can do something about the skin to metal attachment site, but that was another thing Tony would have to confirm in person.

After finishing everything in one sitting, he'd been bullied onto the couch to finally rest. (As per usual, Tony insisted he wasn't tired, and then promptly fell asleep within seconds.)

Tony could only get a few hours at a time before the nightmares hit, so, even to FRIDAY's displeasure, she always woke him before that point. This time it seemed to be by sending DUM-E to retrieve Soldier.

And, look. He had been a light sleeper before Afghanistan, okay? So of course as soon as Soldier is in his space, fixing his blanket, Tony wakes.

His fear prepares him for violence. Instead, he gets warmth.

There are barely there memories of his mother tucking him into bed when he was really, really young. So young, and so worn by time, that they're more of a whispy, foggy recollection than a clear image. It's painful, that he stopped getting that treatment so long ago, that he can't remember.

(The pain of not being able to clearly remember his mother's face, unless he's reminded by a picture, is a whole different beast.)

But it's not really about the act of being tucked in, it's about the care and consideration of it all. It stirs the same warmth in him as when Pepper would leave him coffee and a kiss on the forehead, back when he was still CEO of SI. It stirs the same warmth in him as when he and Rhodey were at MTI, and Rhodey would carry him to bed after he passed out-- be it at a movie or homework or whatever they were doing. Maybe even more so, because it's the fucking Winter Soldier. In the sleep haze, Tony doesn't even consider that it might all just be some mandatory obligation to him. It's just plain nice.

This will be mortifying later, but Tony's sleep deprived and just waking up, so instead of doing anything sensible, he's entirely too vulnerable for his liking. Which is to say: Tony gives the man a sleepily smile, and then grabs the nearest hand (the metal one, it so happens) that's adjusting the blanket, plonking his face into it.

"Good, you're still here," he mumbles. It says a lot about him that the uncomfortable, unwavering give of the metal is immensely comforting. "W's afraid you left again. Tower's been so quiet lately. Hate it."

(Yeah. Definitely mortifying. This is why he needs caffeine first thing in the morning.)

Tony stays there until Dum-E wheels his way over, a mug gripped in his claw. The little guy is finally getting the hang of the coffee machine-- FRIDAY only warns Tony of motor oil in the coffee once a week now! And since there's no such warning, Tony sits up and emerges from his blanket cocoon enough to start drinking from the mug.
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[personal profile] aubbiemoose 2025-06-08 10:41 am (UTC)(link)
Do all snipers crouch like they're birds perching on a branch? Tony errantly thinks, before his brain snaps back to the present, and Soldier's question. The caffeine also helps to keep him from being (as) scattered, as it slowly absorbs into his system.

(Dawning awareness of what he just did also horrifies Tony, but Soldier isn't talking about it, so he can just pretend it never happened. Yep. Yes.)

With a snort, Tony replies, "dust probably sleeps in my bed more than I do," into his mug. It's not really an answer, though, so Soldier keeps staring at him. The feeling of eyes on him makes Tony squirm, (well, no, not exactly. Tony is good at ignoring people staring at him, it's just that he knows Soldier won't eventually give up that unnerves him), and he cracks pretty quickly. "This time? I worked until I couldn't anymore and it's the nearest soft surface. FRIDAY gets grouchy when I pass out at my workbench."

A shrug, another sip of coffee, then turning the mug around and around in his palms so Tony has something to do with his hands. He speaks about it all so flippantly, like it's no big deal. "Insomnia. Fun perks of C-PTSD: nightmares. I dunno; I spent three months captive in a cave in Afghanistan-- beds haven't really felt the same, since."

Unfortunately, Soldier does have a point: a bed would definitely have been better for the leg. The more awake Tony is, the more he feels it. Plus, every other pain and ache, be it chronic or 'I sleep on a couch, and I'm not as young as I used to be' related. Some neck and shoulder and everywhere rolling results in some pretty sickening cracks, but it's the thigh that Tony ultimately rubs at with a slight grimace.

"I'm gonna need to call my physical therapist, aren't I?" The pinched 'I just swallowed a lemon' face says all it needs to about how he feels about that. "Whatevs. Fri, put it on my to-do for later."

Tony stands (on wobbly legs). "Okie-dokie. That's enough vulnerability for a lifetime, I think. C'mon, hot stuff, lemme show you what I cooked up for that arm of yours. I've got some questions for you."

The workshop has much more expansive hologram technology, so the interactive blueprint Tony pulls up is huge. More than life sized. He pulls it apart into multiple components, so Soldier can see more clearly what Tony plans to do externally and internally.

"It's your arm, so you can veto whatever you'd like. Would you be cool for some more in depth scans? I did the best I could with what I have, but I'd do better if I knew exactly what I was working with. Oh, and how do you feel about the star? Can we buff it out? Leave it blank, put something different there...? It, and the whole," vague hand gestures to the arm's whole shiny chrome, "make this thing kind of... anti inconspicuous. I get the whole point used to be that it wasn't, but I figured you might want differently. You're a pretty lowkey guy, and all."