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.
The tower would take a few days to map out manually.
Under normal circumstances it would, except FRIDAY provides him with a map shortly after Stark settles down to work on the prosthetic arm. Or, more precisely, the AI sends one of Stark’s low-tech drones to roll up with a tablet clenched in its manipulator claw, beeping, and then settling for bodily poking the Winter Soldier in the hip until he takes it. The uploaded map’s probably edited knowing he’ll be looking at it. Flicking through it, learning how to use the tablet, and it confirms what he already knows: the tower is a maze and there’s no feasible escape without FRIDAY knowing about it.
Aside from that, no new orders.
Unsure what to do without those, the Soldier wanders. A few times he makes it back to Stark’s workshop and while the…mess is still there, all the trip hazards that are probably more dangerous to the man than his scalpel ever was, the music volume blaring through the speakers is noticeably lower than before, just loud instead of bone-shaking, head-pounding loud. Even at a lower, more reasonable volume the music’s still somehow grating, the Soldier slipping out after a few minutes, unaware that he might just be missing something more sedate like the Andrew Sisters or the Ink Spots instead of another round of A/C’s guitar riffs.
But Stark holes up in his workshop long enough that the Soldier returns, back music or no music, because standing orders were to assist him and he can’t assist him if the man worked himself into a coma because he forgot about eating and drinking. He isn’t sure where the food comes from - delivery again, maybe - but FRIDAY’s voice had filtered through the walls, through everywhere, seemingly without a source, and the AI had requested that he make sure Stark ate. Not exactly an order.
Might as well be.
It’s easy to sneak up on Stark, like every other time. The Soldier walks in with the delivery, has time to set it down and retrieve a streaming mug from DUM-E and there's time to set that down too. In fact, he can stand right behind Stark’s chair, easily within arm’s reach that he could’ve snapped his neck or slipped a knife between his ribs, and still Stark doesn’t seem to register he’s there.
The Soldier doesn’t move when Stark’s head shifts and then bumps into the firm planes of his stomach.
“It’s 2:34 pm,” the Soldier says quietly. “Over twenty four hours. You should take a break.”
He doesn’t move away. Not at first. Leaning over and minding Stark’s head, the Soldier reaches for the mug and then maneuvers it into Stark’s hands with surprisingly gentle care, his palms briefly fitting over the back of the other man’s hands.
“Drink. Then eat. You can give a status report while you’re doing that.”
It's not until Solider says that it's been twenty four hours that Tony really feels it.
('It' being that he's been going the whole time, non stop, with no sleep, no food or water, no breaks, the whole shebang.)
Funny how that works, huh? Tony had been just fine mere seconds ago. Apparently all it takes is a swift kick to his brain and a, hey, remember to do your fucking job! to get it to function like everyone else's on the planet. Who knew?
There's a non insignificant part of Tony that knows that even if he had been aware of the passage of time or his body's needs, it wouldn't have stopped him. Some of it is the love of the game, sure. The rest is what his therapist would describe as feelings of inadequacy.
There will always be that voice in the back of his subconscious that sounds suspiciously like Howard, telling Tony that it's not good enough. That he's not good enough. Plus the reminder that, "few sons are like their fathers; most are worse, few better," though Tony will admit that Howard probably said that in an attempt to inspire him to want to be better, it instead left him feeling like he had to. Anyway, his dad had always been disappointed when Tony did anything other than something engineering or science related, so it's not hard to see how that disappointment and Tony's need for approval and Daddy issues twisted and warped and corrupted into the backwards logic he has today. What was once probably just a, "you're too old for toys, you should be focusing on your work," turns into, "I, and by extension, my inventions, have no worth when I'm not working."
Perfectionism is a hell of a drug. You could almost call it a compulsion, really. Even when you know the logic, the logic doesn't win out against the sheer itch. Or it doesn't in Tony's case, but his impulse control is less than stellar.
Soldier stopping him and making him take a break is, frankly, absolution. He's handing Tony the permission to stop on a silver platter.
(This is about when his subconscious starts to sound distinctly Pepper-like. "You're no use to your company, or anyone, if you're dead, Tony!" she had yelled at him, once. Most people would probably need it to be framed more tactfully, but not Tony. It had felt like a slap to the face, but an eye-opening one.
From then on, when she'd tell him to stop, he'd listen. Tony had expected it to be a hardship, but it really wasn't. Maybe he'd be crabby if he were in the middle of a bout of inspiration, but mostly it was just... relief.)
One warm flesh hand, one metal and mug warmed, caress Tony's worn ones. A firm, solid body weight behind him. When Soldier leans down, Tony feels his hair brush against his.
Soldier's softness reminds Tony of brand new shoes that you bought years ago that have just been collecting dust in your closet. It's awkward, definitely not well worn or broken in, but it's more comforting to him that it isn't.
In this moment, the Winter Soldier is so unbearably, unabashedly human.
He has none of the charm that Steve said Bucky Barnes had. Instead, Soldier is stilted and awkward, and Tony thinks it's lovely shockingly genuine, but it looks good on him. Soldier's not boyish, he's not-- well, Tony could see Solider being quick witted and 'bratty' (for lack of a better word), but he certainly isn't right now, and Tony has a feeling it would be vastly different than Bucky's brand of it. Tony would describe Soldier as rugged and mature, and while lived experience probably contributes to it, it's definitely not the whole story. Soldier is more reserved, he's quieter... if a little monotone. Some of that will probably go with more time away from HYDRA, but what remains, Tony can imagine being cutefuck, uh--delightfuldamn it-- ...quaint. ...close enough.
Tony expected, and planned for, a lot-- hating Bucky (be it jealousy or envy or just plain 'we don't click' annoyance), begrudgingly liking him... really, any number of things.
Tony did not plan for Soldier.
Tony did not plan to like him so goddamn much.
This one is mine, Steve, Tony thinks, somewhat hysterically. I won't let you have him. I won't let you make him pretend to be a ghost.
It's definitely the sleep deprivation and dehydration and starvation. Yep. Totally. Uh-huh.
"You're annoyingly reasonable, Soldier," Tony says, halfway into his mug. He doesn't actually sound that put out about it, and he is still laying against Soldier's body. "Okay, uh--"
With one hand, Tony eats. With the other, he gestures. And drinks. Some coffee might slosh onto Tony's arm a few times, but it's a necessary sacrifice (and a familiar one).
"The stuff I didn't need to repurpose was the easy part-- okay, well, I'm not, like, totally done, but it's mostly there," The new outer components of Soldier's arm get waved to, and as promised they look pretty much identical, but much more streamlined and of astoundingly better quality. Vibranium, for one, which Pepper can't even be mad at Tony for, because it's not company expenses nor does it need to be affordable for mass production. Tony is absolutely going to bring up a prosthesis division at the next board meeting, and has learned a ton already from this project, but that's brain space he's allocated for future Tony, not current Tony.
"What won't be so easy is everything on the inside-- less so because of my capabilities, mind you," (it's phrased like the most egotistical thing you've ever heard, but Tony has an ease of speaking about his talents that make it sound like a simple fact-- and in a way it is, but he digresses), "but I imagine it's never pleasant to have someone digging around in there. I have stuff to make it not hurt or entirely numb, your choice, so it definitely won't be unbearable... but uh, yeah. Sorry. Promise it'll be worth it."
As an example (of what Tony means by 'worth it'), he goes on to explain his theory about Soldier's healing.
"It's like-- wait, you probably don't know much about computers, uh... okay, it's like, imagine if you had something stuck in the slide of a handgun. It-- miraculously, for the sake of this analogy-- works fine, but you know it could be more efficient if it didn't have that stuff in there. And then you're thinking about it all the time and it'll be on your mind every time you shoot and reload, like, oh, is this finally going to be the time it fucks up on me? And that's stuff that you wouldn't be thinking about if the issue wasn't there at all. It's sort of like that?"
"I have a hunch: your arm has all this rust and crap that is not supposed to be in there, right? And without the serum's healing, who knows what state you'd be in! I should know, I had palladium poisoning-- wait, not the point. Your body only has so much healing to go around. So when you get injured, your body has, say, 70% of its healing resources going towards the bullet wound you got, or whatever, because that other 30% is permanently stuck on keeping rust out of your bloodstream or other places it shouldn't be. I also assume some of your healing is fighting off pain and scar tissue and other complications at the connection site, so that might be even more shit that's compromising your efficiency. It'll probably feel pretty fucking awesome to not deal with chronic pain, but I figured you'd care more about your capabilities."
(If Soldier tries going back to HYRDA after this-- or, God forbid, succeeds-- Tony will be so pissed. Not at him-- can't exactly blame the brainwashed guy-- but at HYDRA. They don't deserve this man's loyalty, they don't deserve getting their 'toy' back all shiny and new, when they're the ones that fucked Soldier up in the first place, and didn't take proper care of him. He's a human being, for one, but even if he wasn't, Tony can't even fathom not taking good care of your things. Things you create, too.)
Annoyingly reasonable...? The Soldier can't remember ever being referred to as reasonable and for a brief second, genuine surprise flutters across his face before it settles back into that usual mask-like expression.
It becomes apparent that Stark will need to be monitored to make sure he's eating and drinking enough. The Soldier settles down for the long haul as the other man finally gets some sustenance in him...although he insists on multi-tasking, eating and drinking and talking. A lot. As always. It's probably the most consistent thing about Stark, how once he opens his mouth it's like he can't stop, as if the other option of silence is generally uncomfortable.
At first he means to stand behind Stark. But Stark looks like he plans to settle in for the long haul with his stream of thought and maybe it would be better to sit so Stark doesn't have to keep glancing over his shoulder and craning his head to keep checking for any changes in his facial expressions. Moving to Stark's right, the Soldier reaches over and grabs an overturned oil drum, bringing it closer so he can sit more or less next to the other man, almost close enough that they could bump into each other if Stark shifts or the Soldier's knees spread a little.
Gazing at the holo display twinkling before them, each glittering line of paneling and pistons and servos and other parts he doesn't know the names of slowly rotating in the air, the Winter Soldier patiently listens, trying to absorb what he understands and what he doesn't, he memorizes and file away, just in case. He understands what vibranium is: same make as Steve Rogers' shield, in such limited qualities that HYDRA hadn't been able to acquire any for the inferior titanium of the current prosthetic. It's not something to just hand out to a potential hostile, especially one who had stabbed him in the leg with a scalpel, and yet Stark just...does. Doesn't think twice about it. Just throws it out there as if money is no issue, acquiring one of the rarest metals on Earth isn't an issue.
The Soldier waits until there's a gap, until even Stark has to pause for breath. Surprisingly, he's raised a good point that the Soldier's never really thought of before: there's always a level of low-grade pain throbbing and ebbing from where the prosthetic's docking socket is embedded into flesh and muscle and bone. Sometimes it spikes; hurts enough to hitch his breath and bead sweat against suddenly clammy skin.
And here Stark is saying it could be different. Maybe...it wouldn't be betraying HYDRA if it meant his combat readiness was improved...?
"So you're saying the new prosthetic will minimize those symptoms," the Soldier says slowly, his dark head canting, unconsciously reaching up to tuck a few loose strands of hair from where they've slipped into his face back to rest behind his ear. He believes that he's parsed out what he considers the most immediately relevant part of the conversation. "The vibranium should be lighter. And your redesigned arm will have the same functionality, more or less. When can it be ready?"
For the Soldier, it's downright conversational, even if he comes off as terse and borderline silent compared to Stark.
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Under normal circumstances it would, except FRIDAY provides him with a map shortly after Stark settles down to work on the prosthetic arm. Or, more precisely, the AI sends one of Stark’s low-tech drones to roll up with a tablet clenched in its manipulator claw, beeping, and then settling for bodily poking the Winter Soldier in the hip until he takes it. The uploaded map’s probably edited knowing he’ll be looking at it. Flicking through it, learning how to use the tablet, and it confirms what he already knows: the tower is a maze and there’s no feasible escape without FRIDAY knowing about it.
Aside from that, no new orders.
Unsure what to do without those, the Soldier wanders. A few times he makes it back to Stark’s workshop and while the…mess is still there, all the trip hazards that are probably more dangerous to the man than his scalpel ever was, the music volume blaring through the speakers is noticeably lower than before, just loud instead of bone-shaking, head-pounding loud. Even at a lower, more reasonable volume the music’s still somehow grating, the Soldier slipping out after a few minutes, unaware that he might just be missing something more sedate like the Andrew Sisters or the Ink Spots instead of another round of A/C’s guitar riffs.
But Stark holes up in his workshop long enough that the Soldier returns, back music or no music, because standing orders were to assist him and he can’t assist him if the man worked himself into a coma because he forgot about eating and drinking. He isn’t sure where the food comes from - delivery again, maybe - but FRIDAY’s voice had filtered through the walls, through everywhere, seemingly without a source, and the AI had requested that he make sure Stark ate. Not exactly an order.
Might as well be.
It’s easy to sneak up on Stark, like every other time. The Soldier walks in with the delivery, has time to set it down and retrieve a streaming mug from DUM-E and there's time to set that down too. In fact, he can stand right behind Stark’s chair, easily within arm’s reach that he could’ve snapped his neck or slipped a knife between his ribs, and still Stark doesn’t seem to register he’s there.
The Soldier doesn’t move when Stark’s head shifts and then bumps into the firm planes of his stomach.
“It’s 2:34 pm,” the Soldier says quietly. “Over twenty four hours. You should take a break.”
He doesn’t move away. Not at first. Leaning over and minding Stark’s head, the Soldier reaches for the mug and then maneuvers it into Stark’s hands with surprisingly gentle care, his palms briefly fitting over the back of the other man’s hands.
“Drink. Then eat. You can give a status report while you’re doing that.”
no subject
('It' being that he's been going the whole time, non stop, with no sleep, no food or water, no breaks, the whole shebang.)
Funny how that works, huh? Tony had been just fine mere seconds ago. Apparently all it takes is a swift kick to his brain and a, hey, remember to do your fucking job! to get it to function like everyone else's on the planet. Who knew?
There's a non insignificant part of Tony that knows that even if he had been aware of the passage of time or his body's needs, it wouldn't have stopped him. Some of it is the love of the game, sure. The rest is what his therapist would describe as feelings of inadequacy.
There will always be that voice in the back of his subconscious that sounds suspiciously like Howard, telling Tony that it's not good enough. That he's not good enough. Plus the reminder that, "few sons are like their fathers; most are worse, few better," though Tony will admit that Howard probably said that in an attempt to inspire him to want to be better, it instead left him feeling like he had to. Anyway, his dad had always been disappointed when Tony did anything other than something engineering or science related, so it's not hard to see how that disappointment and Tony's need for approval and Daddy issues twisted and warped and corrupted into the backwards logic he has today. What was once probably just a, "you're too old for toys, you should be focusing on your work," turns into, "I, and by extension, my inventions, have no worth when I'm not working."
Perfectionism is a hell of a drug. You could almost call it a compulsion, really. Even when you know the logic, the logic doesn't win out against the sheer itch. Or it doesn't in Tony's case, but his impulse control is less than stellar.
Soldier stopping him and making him take a break is, frankly, absolution. He's handing Tony the permission to stop on a silver platter.
(This is about when his subconscious starts to sound distinctly Pepper-like. "You're no use to your company, or anyone, if you're dead, Tony!" she had yelled at him, once. Most people would probably need it to be framed more tactfully, but not Tony. It had felt like a slap to the face, but an eye-opening one.
From then on, when she'd tell him to stop, he'd listen. Tony had expected it to be a hardship, but it really wasn't. Maybe he'd be crabby if he were in the middle of a bout of inspiration, but mostly it was just... relief.)
One warm flesh hand, one metal and mug warmed, caress Tony's worn ones. A firm, solid body weight behind him. When Soldier leans down, Tony feels his hair brush against his.
Soldier's softness reminds Tony of brand new shoes that you bought years ago that have just been collecting dust in your closet. It's awkward, definitely not well worn or broken in, but it's more comforting to him that it isn't.
In this moment, the Winter Soldier is so unbearably, unabashedly human.
He has none of the charm that Steve said Bucky Barnes had. Instead, Soldier is stilted and
awkward, and Tony thinks it's
lovelyshockingly genuine, but it looks good on him. Soldier's not boyish, he's not-- well, Tony could see Solider being quick witted and 'bratty' (for lack of a better word), but he certainly isn't right now, and Tony has a feeling it would be vastly different than Bucky's brand of it. Tony would describe Soldier as rugged and mature, and while lived experience probably contributes to it, it's definitely not the whole story. Soldier is more reserved, he's quieter... if a little monotone. Some of that will probably go with more time away from HYDRA, but what remains, Tony can imagine beingcutefuck, uh--delightfuldamn it-- ...quaint. ...close enough.Tony expected, and planned for, a lot-- hating Bucky (be it jealousy or envy or just plain 'we don't click' annoyance), begrudgingly liking him... really, any number of things.
Tony did not plan for Soldier.
Tony did not plan to like him so goddamn much.
This one is mine, Steve, Tony thinks, somewhat hysterically. I won't let you have him. I won't let you make him pretend to be a ghost.
It's definitely the sleep deprivation and dehydration and starvation. Yep. Totally. Uh-huh.
"You're annoyingly reasonable, Soldier," Tony says, halfway into his mug. He doesn't actually sound that put out about it, and he is still laying against Soldier's body. "Okay, uh--"
With one hand, Tony eats. With the other, he gestures. And drinks. Some coffee might slosh onto Tony's arm a few times, but it's a necessary sacrifice (and a familiar one).
"The stuff I didn't need to repurpose was the easy part-- okay, well, I'm not, like, totally done, but it's mostly there," The new outer components of Soldier's arm get waved to, and as promised they look pretty much identical, but much more streamlined and of astoundingly better quality. Vibranium, for one, which Pepper can't even be mad at Tony for, because it's not company expenses nor does it need to be affordable for mass production. Tony is absolutely going to bring up a prosthesis division at the next board meeting, and has learned a ton already from this project, but that's brain space he's allocated for future Tony, not current Tony.
"What won't be so easy is everything on the inside-- less so because of my capabilities, mind you," (it's phrased like the most egotistical thing you've ever heard, but Tony has an ease of speaking about his talents that make it sound like a simple fact-- and in a way it is, but he digresses), "but I imagine it's never pleasant to have someone digging around in there. I have stuff to make it not hurt or entirely numb, your choice, so it definitely won't be unbearable... but uh, yeah. Sorry. Promise it'll be worth it."
As an example (of what Tony means by 'worth it'), he goes on to explain his theory about Soldier's healing.
"It's like-- wait, you probably don't know much about computers, uh... okay, it's like, imagine if you had something stuck in the slide of a handgun. It-- miraculously, for the sake of this analogy-- works fine, but you know it could be more efficient if it didn't have that stuff in there. And then you're thinking about it all the time and it'll be on your mind every time you shoot and reload, like, oh, is this finally going to be the time it fucks up on me? And that's stuff that you wouldn't be thinking about if the issue wasn't there at all. It's sort of like that?"
"I have a hunch: your arm has all this rust and crap that is not supposed to be in there, right? And without the serum's healing, who knows what state you'd be in! I should know, I had palladium poisoning-- wait, not the point. Your body only has so much healing to go around. So when you get injured, your body has, say, 70% of its healing resources going towards the bullet wound you got, or whatever, because that other 30% is permanently stuck on keeping rust out of your bloodstream or other places it shouldn't be. I also assume some of your healing is fighting off pain and scar tissue and other complications at the connection site, so that might be even more shit that's compromising your efficiency. It'll probably feel pretty fucking awesome to not deal with chronic pain, but I figured you'd care more about your capabilities."
(If Soldier tries going back to HYRDA after this-- or, God forbid, succeeds-- Tony will be so pissed. Not at him-- can't exactly blame the brainwashed guy-- but at HYDRA. They don't deserve this man's loyalty, they don't deserve getting their 'toy' back all shiny and new, when they're the ones that fucked Soldier up in the first place, and didn't take proper care of him. He's a human being, for one, but even if he wasn't, Tony can't even fathom not taking good care of your things. Things you create, too.)
no subject
It becomes apparent that Stark will need to be monitored to make sure he's eating and drinking enough. The Soldier settles down for the long haul as the other man finally gets some sustenance in him...although he insists on multi-tasking, eating and drinking and talking. A lot. As always. It's probably the most consistent thing about Stark, how once he opens his mouth it's like he can't stop, as if the other option of silence is generally uncomfortable.
At first he means to stand behind Stark. But Stark looks like he plans to settle in for the long haul with his stream of thought and maybe it would be better to sit so Stark doesn't have to keep glancing over his shoulder and craning his head to keep checking for any changes in his facial expressions. Moving to Stark's right, the Soldier reaches over and grabs an overturned oil drum, bringing it closer so he can sit more or less next to the other man, almost close enough that they could bump into each other if Stark shifts or the Soldier's knees spread a little.
Gazing at the holo display twinkling before them, each glittering line of paneling and pistons and servos and other parts he doesn't know the names of slowly rotating in the air, the Winter Soldier patiently listens, trying to absorb what he understands and what he doesn't, he memorizes and file away, just in case. He understands what vibranium is: same make as Steve Rogers' shield, in such limited qualities that HYDRA hadn't been able to acquire any for the inferior titanium of the current prosthetic. It's not something to just hand out to a potential hostile, especially one who had stabbed him in the leg with a scalpel, and yet Stark just...does. Doesn't think twice about it. Just throws it out there as if money is no issue, acquiring one of the rarest metals on Earth isn't an issue.
The Soldier waits until there's a gap, until even Stark has to pause for breath. Surprisingly, he's raised a good point that the Soldier's never really thought of before: there's always a level of low-grade pain throbbing and ebbing from where the prosthetic's docking socket is embedded into flesh and muscle and bone. Sometimes it spikes; hurts enough to hitch his breath and bead sweat against suddenly clammy skin.
And here Stark is saying it could be different. Maybe...it wouldn't be betraying HYDRA if it meant his combat readiness was improved...?
"So you're saying the new prosthetic will minimize those symptoms," the Soldier says slowly, his dark head canting, unconsciously reaching up to tuck a few loose strands of hair from where they've slipped into his face back to rest behind his ear. He believes that he's parsed out what he considers the most immediately relevant part of the conversation. "The vibranium should be lighter. And your redesigned arm will have the same functionality, more or less. When can it be ready?"
For the Soldier, it's downright conversational, even if he comes off as terse and borderline silent compared to Stark.