fossilised | military mistletoe

"I didn't tell you because it was too hard. I didn't know if we were really gonna make it out of there, and talking about them hurt too much."

His voice was still thick, but also muffled in a way that might tell Tony that he was trying to surreptitiously wipe his face on his sheet so there was no trace left of any unmanly tears.

"It's not that I didn't want you to know, and I do trust you. Hell, it's pretty much you, Steve, Becca, Beth, and Lizzie. That's it. Jesus, it's been months since they said I was dead, do you think they gave them any kind of compensation payment? Steve's medical insurance was being paid for by my salary too."

Bucky had kept literally nothing of his pay for himself, he was kind of a moron that way. When he went all in for someone, he was loyal til the end, no matter what.

"But, I mean-- yeah, okay. If you say you can get me the phone, I believe you. Just don't leave it too long, slacker."

It was a poor attempt to get back to the lightness of teasing, spoiled by the way his voice was still wavering a bit.

“If you’re dead, they get your pension,” Tony said, which sounded right but he wasn’t sure. He didn’t know a lot about the world to be honest. He might not be in a literally ivory tower but he certainly was in one inside of his own head, plugging away at the world without consequence.

He made a huge gesture of swallowing, mostly because he needed to with the pain, and then, closed his eyes again.

When his assistant was allowed in, they could make a plan. Until then, there wasn’t much he could do. He needed a friendly face who wasn’t locked down to a hospital bed to visit first, but without knowing that he was being railroaded, that the mess left was being covered up, he was stuck here with Bucky.

Stuck? It wasn’t exactly a hardship. They’d become very close but a lot of the personal stuff— Shit. It was hard to realize how little they actually knew each other.

It wasn't that they didn't know each other, it's just that Bucky had been careful while they were trapped to keep his stories more upbeat because he was trying to keep morale up. He told Tony about how Steve got his nose busted by yet another bully the day before school photos, or how he had embarrassed his little sisters by trick or treating with them while dressed as Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz.

He had just glossed over the hardships and worries, they had been worried enough in there without adding depressing stories to it. Besides which, he had never really wanted to hammer in how poor the Barnes and Rogers families were, in case Tony had thought he was angling for a handout if they ever got out.

Things fell silent for a while, and after a few hours a man in full dress uniform with a general's stripes entered and sat down next to Tony's bed.

"Mr. Stark, good to see you awake and getting better. I'm here to discuss some delicate details of the situation with you. I'm sure you understand that military intelligence is a classified business, and so there as aspects to your confinement that would be better kept out of the public eye. Of course we're happy for you to talk about being rescued, or some of the conditions you were kept in, but details of the weaponry, names of any of the insurgents or other prisoners, and exact locations should be kept quiet. I'm sure, as the head of a large company with corporate secrets to keep, you understand our need for discretion."

Tony let the man talk. He had finally gotten a good meal (cheeseburgers and a chocolate shake) and he was feeling more human. Human enough that he could actually appreciate what was being told to him, even if he didn’t agree. “Our if curiosity, what would happen if the world knew Sargent Barnes was a hero who saved my life and kept me alive for four months while you guys gave up on us? And I’m only asking this as a private citizen.”

Because there was nothing that the army could hold over him except deny him any future contracts.

“What you should come to me as is a business man yourself. We both have something the other needs. I need you to discharge James Barnes honorably and will fill military rank and privilege. And you need me not to be a huge dick. Get what I’m saying?”

"I'm afraid the situation with Sergeant Barnes is a more complex one, and is something that will be discussed privately with him."

Which means that they're not prepared to admit that they found an arm and a large pool of blood, and wrote him off as dead without even bothering to look for him. That reflected badly on them, especially if that soldier had then distinguished himself with exceptional bravery in the face of capture. Twice.

Damn it all.

"Please be reasonable, Mr. Stark. I'm sure you understand that these are delicate times for the USA, with threats of terror and war overseas, the people need to believe in their military and support us. Something damaging to morale will only hurt us all."

Tony lightly cocked an eyebrow upward. “So it’s better PR for you to bury this story than to make Barnes your poster child for all things great about the military? He’s not that guy that went AWOL and turned up as a POW seven months later. So you wrote him off as dead? Fine. This is a god damned redemption story.” The Officer didn’t look convinced. “Then don’t mention my part in it. The joint military spent the last few months hunting for us. You found us while we were forced to conduct a missile test. That’s all. It’s a feel good story and you guys can have your double win.”

It didn’t make a lick of sense to him why the hell Barnes would have to take this fall to save face.

“All it takes is one leak. One conspiracy theory. I thought you guys were smarter than that. Now get me a phone. And get whatever lie you want to tell ready before you pay this man for his sacrifice. Money and a ticket tape parade. You like parades, Barnes?”

The officer ground his teeth for a moment before smiling in a way that was much more like a grimace, but he really really wanted some of that sweet Stark Industries cash.

"...if you'll excuse me for a while, gentlemen, it appears I need to have a talk with my colleagues to see if there's a way that we can move forward to our mutual benefit."

Which meant that Tony was being damn difficult over one stupid soldier, but he needed to be coddled somewhat because they wanted a donation. Bucky just snorted and half rolled over to stare at them both.

"I don't need a parade, I just want to be acknowledged as alive."

“Have you ever been in a parade?” Tony asked, feeling exhausted, eyes barely open. “Because neither have I and I want to be.” Really, he just wanted to make sure that the Army gave Bucky what he deserved. He wanted to make sure that they understood that embarrassment would mean keeping s hero dead instead of alive and on his road to recovery.

They were always so short sighted. Men in charge tended to be. The Army had a PR team for a reason. They could spin this to their own desires easily enough.

Especially if they wanted an edge with Stark Industries. Too bad they didn’t know that Tony was taking his company out of the weapons business.

It was a good job that the army didn't know that Tony planned to be out of the weapons industry, or they would be doing this in a whole different way with threats instead of trying to butter him up. It was only because they hoped for a large contract with him, and a substantial donation, that the PR team was eventually convinced that they could spin James Barnes' story into something that would work for them.

Hero soldier survives against all odds and protects American citizen, they'd have him do press tours and give him a good pension and a medal, make him a poster boy. Gloss over the mistake as much as possible, maybe even have him issue a statement about how he would have made the same call in their place.

It was early the following morning when a sharp-eyed young woman came back into the room with a smile that didn't reach her eyes and a set of contracts in hand.

"Good morning, gentleman. Mr. Stark, Sergeant Barnes, I'll just need both of you to read and sign these documents."

Bucky rolled his eyes and took his, giving it a cursory scan before looking up in surprise. "The hell? Is this a joke? Medals? Promotional tour?"

“Pension,” Tony remarked, with a smirk. That was for him, because it was hard to buy someone who was rich. The documents made him laugh, but he didn’t ask for legal to be brought in to read the contract. Despite appearances, he was pretty savvy when it came to contract law.

He didn’t just dole out responsibility. He strove to understand it too.

“Pretty good, Barnes.” He’d wait until Bucky took a look at it before he put his name to the paper but he knew Bucky was going to sign. Who wouldn’t in this case? It set his family up for life and he didn’t have to be dead.

He might have to do some traveling and write a book or produce a podcast but that would all be gravy.

He didn't think that they'd really want him for tv interviews and book deals, not when they realised how broken his brain was after all of this. But he signed it anyway, not because it came with a fucking purple heart (they were really going all in on this hero angle now they'd decided that, huh?) or because it came with parades, but because it came with a full pension that he could use to support his family and it meant he didn't have to live in secret.

So he scribbled his name and then held his hand out with a hard frown.

"Now give me a goddamn phone. Please."

He gave Tony a tiny smile when he finally got a phone given to him, but then all of his attention went on dialling Steve's number. He had no idea what might greet him on the other end, they'd probably had a damn funeral for him months ago. He couldn't imagine losing Steve, and Steve had no idea that he hadn't really lost Bucky.

Jesus, this was going to be a mess.

Steve was just coming up from the subway when the phone rang in his pocket. With his hands full, and his lungs feeling like they were going to give out thanks to the escalator being down, he nearly let it go to voice mail. Instead, he threaded his arms through his bags and tucked his cheap, street coffee against his chest to free one hand for the phone.

"Rogers," Steve said, mostly because he was sure this was either a telemarketer or someone from collections. He was bracing himself for the latter, hoping for the former.

Instead, there was just silence. That was strange. He pulled the phone from his head and glanced at the number. He recognized the area code as California, but only because of a show he liked to watch on TV from time to time while he was painting. Telemarketer, he assumed, and tried one more time. "Uh. Hello? Anyone?"

All it would take would be the sound of Bucky's voice to cause him to drop his coffee. All this time, he never forgot it. He heard it say snarky things to him all the time, in the back of his head anyway. He talked to it. It answered. Maybe he was going completely insane now, though, since he was losing his grip on reality.

"B-Bucky?"

Jesus, hearing Steve's voice was like getting sucker punched right in the gut.

For a few moments he couldn't do anything other than try and swallow the sudden lump that had formed in his throat, but knowing that Steve was on the other end of this line probably wondering if someone was playing a really poor taste prank on him was what made him actually speak.

"Hey pal."

Great, good start.

"So, uh-- you probably figured this out, but I'm not dead. Obviously. Jesus, this is already a mess. Sorry."

"You're such an asshole!" Screaming this in the middle of the sidewalk in New York? Not really a problem. Just about everyone ignored him and walked around him. It wasn't his finest moment, though, even if he felt vindicated to be yelling in the first place. "You've been dead for five months-- I'm going to kill you again!"

Those last words were a mix of tears and laughter. Steve sat back against the wall separating the sidewalk and the subway entry like he was homeless -- and let's face it, several times in his life he had been, so he had some real cred doing this. He was going to start bawling any second now, real, honest to God wailing, if someone didn't stop him.

"I-I said some really nice stuff about you, you damned bastard."

Tony could probably hear everything, given how hard Steve was yelling, and Bucky was about to embarrass himself too by sobbing on his end of the phone. His voice got more gravelly with trying to hold tears back, and he was holding the phone so tightly that his knuckles were white.

"Yeah? Then you can take it all back, Steve, because I swear I never meant to put any of you through this. I got-- caught."

Such a sanitised word for what they went through, but he doesn't want the horrors of their experiences to taint the people he cares about.

"But I'm out now, and you'll never guess who saved my life by signalling the army, huh? It was Tony Stark, you know, the guy who's building you've protested outside of about twenty times."

“Again?!” Steve isn’t usually prone to hysterics, but you take enough people from his life, including one whose friendship was always based on teasing and rubbing and general jerkiness and you get this reaction. “You’re so bad at being a soldier. So. Bad. You’re done. Come home. Where are you? I’m coming to get you.”

He was adamant about the whole thing too, though he was also openly sobbing and feeling foolish the whole time.

“And you’re in with Stark? Jesus Buck. Jesus. That stink is never coming off.” Tony couldn’t really understand any of that of course. Steve was too broken to get the words out.

He did turn his eyes away, though. This was a private moment.

Okay, so Steve maybe had a point that getting captured once was bad luck and getting captured twice was just kind of ridiculous. He probably should've taken the honourable discharge on PTSD related conditions when he was offered it the first time, instead of diving right back in to try and pretend everything was fine.

Everyone makes mistakes.

He was crying in earnest as well now, his heart feeling as though someone had their entire fist wrapped tight around it.

"--hey, lay off, he's a good guy." Hopefully said good guy would hear that bit, at least. "Listen, Steve, you think you could call the girls and get them up here? Are they okay? Becca stayed in school, right? You stayed in school? Listen, they're gonna give me a pension, I can still support all of you."

“You didn’t call your sisters?! Oh my god, you’re an asshole, Barnes!” It was probably a wonder that he could be understood right now. He didn’t even have the wherewithall to squawk at a girl that tossed a five dollar bill at him. He was on a cell phone— Obviously he didn’t need the charity!

He did, however, need to calm down it he’d have an attack. No one wanted that.

Steve leaned forward and put his forehead on his knees to breathe, sucking in air and deciding to go for his inhaler anyway. One swig did him just fine. Somehow it soothes his nerves too.

“They’re with me, Buck. Or I’m with them. We didn’t uh... well we sort of fudged some of the papers. Everyone is okay. Except for you. I’m killing you the second I see you. Text me your address.”

A tiny knot undid in his chest and he felt like he could breathe again. It didn't sound like they were in the best position if they were fudging paperwork, but if they were all together and nobody had been forced out of education, then he could work with that. It meant that his disappearance hadn't ruined everything.

"You think maybe you could wait to kill me 'til after I'm out of the hospital?"

He sniffed, trying manfully to repress his tears and not succeeding very well.

"I'm at the Saint Monica hospital in California, and Steve-- it's not good, you need to prepare the girls. They took my arm."

“Cali—. Who took— Where did they—?” Oh. Oh. There was a lot of silence on the other end of the line. There was a lot of silence from Bucky too, which made Tony want to crack a joke. He didn’t. He was too busy finally allowed to be on a phone himself and was texting his assistant.

Mostly about bullshit that would come back to him later, he was sure. He did love to be a provocateur.

When Steve finally exhaled, it was after he managed to get to his feet. The coffee was long trampled through. “Okay. Don’t think that gets you a pass on the whole killing thing, as soon as you’re better.” He didn’t know what to do with that information honestly. “I’m going to see if there are cheap flights out. I’ll bring the girls.”

"Thanks. Listen, Steve-- I really missed all of you, you have no idea how much, and I'm so sorry that this happened."

Steve might joke about wanting to kill him, but Bucky would accept that. Even if it wasn't his fault that he'd been captured, he still felt like a total heel, and if they all wanted to beat him up for it then he'd let them.

"But if you guys can't afford to come out here, then it's okay. Don't go hungry or nothing, I'll be out in a little while and I can make my own way back."

He glanced up at where Tony was texting, exhausted rings around his eyes just from this short conversation. Hopefully at least he would have someone coming out here, it's not like he had to worry about the cost of a plane ticket and a motel room.

“Address?” Tony had seen Bucky look towards him, had heard the man mention to his friend about going hungry, and honestly, bringing Bucky’s family here was the least he could do. It would get the guy out of his hair, get him back to some normal level of caring where he never looked like he cared at all. It was for the best. Four months of hell did not family make. And judging by the sheer amount of emotion he’d just witnessed, he didn’t need that sort of thing in his life.

All of this, of course, was a tremendous lie. He just needed to have it in place before his heart tried to do something it wasn’t made for.

Tony only understood caring with money. The rest seemed alien and foreign. And he didn’t want to want it.

At Bucky’s silence, Tony rolled his eyes. “I need an address to send the car to pick the kids up and bring them to Long Island so we can fly them out here. Now come on, address. My assistant needs something to do.”

"Huh?"

It took Bucky a moment to realise that Tony was talking to him, and then he felt a wave of both affection and embarrassment. He was a pretty proud person, all of his family were, it's why he found a way to work for what they had instead of beg or take handouts. Even though he knew Tony had money to spare and then some, it still felt wrong to just... take it.

"You don't have to do that, really. It's a lot of money-- hang on a second, Steve, Tony wants to pay for your flights, I just need to sort this out with him."

“I’m not paying for anything.” Except the car. And the fuel. “I have a house in Long Island.” With an airstrip nearby. “I’m sending the jet. It’s already in the air. This isn’t charity, Barnes. You saved my life. What’s one little plane ride?”

And the whole arguing to get his life back thing. Stuff like that. You know. Tony wasn’t trying to buy any affection here, he was just doing what he always did.

Whatever he wanted.

“They have to make a stop for pizza before they get on the plane. Happy knows what I like. Oh— Is that friend of yours bitching that he can’t be seen on my plane? Tell him to sent protest Instagram stories or whatever, and to suck it up, because he’s coming to see you.” Yeah. He could hear Steve ranting already about being paid for.

Hearing Steve rant was like coming home. He loved his best friend so much, he missed him like a piece of himself, and he was glad that grief or stress or whatever had happened during his absence hadn't ruined his ability to be a chihuahua to anyone that he thought deserved it.

He understood, and he also didn't want Tony to think that he had to buy Bucky's friendship, because he'd heard enough stories while they were locked up to know that was a real possibility.

"Okay-- okay, Steve, please. I really need you out here, and you can kill me for it when you get here. Is it still 747 Oak?"

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Should never had said it was quiet. HA

you jinxed yourself! fool!

I did. Dumb dumb dumb

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