fossilised | military mistletoe

military mistletoe

As much as Tony loved to travel, he preferred to do it in a private charter jet or, at least, in first class. The Army didn’t seem to understand the importance of his comfort, however, nor did they stop to think that a civilian might not want to be shoved into a jumpseat with fifteen of their finest unwashed masses. He appreciated the escort, considering where they were going for the demonstration of a new smart shell he’d developed in hopes of gaining a better foothold on defense contracts with the Defense Department, but he wasn’t sure that these men had showered much in the last few days.

Despite his general brilliance, Tony was more showman than he was R&D expert. That wasn’t because he lacked engineering genius, but because he couldn’t do everything. Hiring the best and the brightest to work for him only actually worked for him if he could be the face of the company and sell their products.

Sure. He dabbled. But dabbling didn’t keep a few hundred people employed and a technology business afloat. Just ask Zuckerberg. Or those idiots that sold Instagram to Zuckerberg. Or Google.

The plane rumbled beneath him as the pilots started take off sequences and Tony tugged on his restraints with a mix of mild dread. It didn’t get any better when one of the buckles popped loose either.

The man could create stuff out of 50s science fiction but he couldn’t get the belts to work? He cursed under his breath and fumbled with the straps.

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Bucky loved Steve deeply, he had loved him since the moment they met as scrappy five year olds fighting over who should get the last good crayon pack, and he loved him now as he got arrested five times a year on average for protesting. But right now, he wished Steve could have backed off just once in this instance.

"C'mon, pal, he's had open heart surgery and he saved my life, you couldn't have left the lectures until after you'd got to know each other a bit? We're friends now, you know?"

He'd had friends Steve hadn't got on with in the past. For all that Steve had a heart of gold, a lot of people found him a bit much to handle, but never a friend that Steve had actively hated.

Bucky had a lot of friends growing up. He made friends everywhere he went. But that didn’t mean that Steve had those friends too. Steve almost always liked them but it wasn’t exactly mutually a good portion of the time. Usually it was because they found Steve threatening. He and Bucky had never hooked up but they both dated men (Steve more than Bucky), and they were almost always attached at the hip. And okay, yes, sometimes Bucky ignored other people for him but he didn’t get what the big deal was.

Steve wrinkled his nose at Bucky’s admonishment and leaned back in the chair.

“I didn’t tell him off or anything. I just said I wanted to talk with him when he’s feeling better.” And okay. He hadn’t said it as nicely— “If hes your friend, I’ll get an ear, right? Maybe he’ll change some of his employment practices and bring jobs back home. Maybe he’ll stop dumping and increase benefits. It’s worth a shot, Buck.”

And so Steve genuinely believed that.

“But hey. Let’s focus on you, for once.”

Bucky had a feeling that Tony might do things just to spite Steve if they really rubbed each other up the wrong way, but he didn't mention it now. He really hoped he'd be wrong and his two friends would work out how to get along for his sake, because he didn't think he had the temperament to deal with people bitching at one another any more.

"...do we have to?"

He'd really rather not.

He was putting in a very concentrated effort into not thinking about what had happened to him, the fucking mess his head was in, and the hard slog his future would likely be now that coming home was just the first step.

"I'd rather hear what you and the girls have been doing."

It was much easier talking up the girls. Becca especially. Steve could go on for hours about everything that had happened the last few months with some obvious omissions around the time that they’d gotten word about Bucky’s death and what it had been like burying only an arm.

The gab was consistent and upbeat, mostly praise with a few little amusing stories of woe. “So I think the verdict is that we aren’t keeping any more stray cats,” Steve said, after describing how they had to delouse the entire apartment and spent two nights at a cheap hotel in Hoboken across the river in New Jersey.

They hadn’t hurt for money after they lost Bucky. That had been the only saving grace in this whole ordeal. Not that Steve spent a dime more than needed.

“Can’t wait to show you the house. It’s two blocks away from the good side of the tracks. In like a year, it’s gonna be worth so much money. Becca found it— Oh.” He noted Bucky’s yawn with a laugh. “Am I boring you?”

Bucky might be tired as hell, but he was also relieved. One of the big things that he had been worrying about the whole time he was trapped was how his family would be coping, not just emotionally, but financially. He had suffered all these nightmares of Steve having to drop out of college and Becca having to drop out of high school, of homelessness and starvation and death.

It was almost amusing to know they had been better off when he was dead. Probably best not to go down that route.

"You always bore me, pal." Bucky offered a small smile and then pushed himself upright, ignoring the way he wanted to go to sleep. "But what I really want to do is get out of this damn bed and chase Tony down. He's kind of a moron, you know? I bet he's hiding out moping."

“Buck... uh. I don’t think millionaires mope.” Steve could be wrong about that, but if he had all of that money, even if he wasn’t using it for the greater good, he would have better things to do than be sad about what some kid from Brooklyn said to him.

Bucky had been consistently looking towards the space that Stark had occupied though, since he’d woken up, and Steve wondered if Bucky might not have a little bit of Stockholm syndrome when it came to his time in captivity. Not for his aggressor, but for this guy, the one who shared his ordeal with him.

“He’s probably surrounded by his own family and friends right now,” Steve said, trying not to be hurt that his audience with his bestie was being cut short. That never happened. Steve had always been number one. He wasn’t sure that he liked feeling a twinge of jealousy.

"He doesn't have any family, Steve, and I'm pretty sure he doesn't have any friends." Maybe Tony wouldn't appreciate his vulnerabilities being spelled out to someone he both didn't know and who obviously didn't have a high opinion of him. But Bucky shared everything with Steve, always had, and maybe if he understood a little better then it might help in them overcoming the initial dislike.

"He'll have moved himself out because he thinks I'll forget about him now I have you guys back. Told you, he's a moron. But the guy saved my life, Steve, I need to beat that into his head."

He had no idea that this sounded like Stockholm Syndrome to his friend, and probably more so now. They'd come to understand in time.

"C'mon, pal, help me up?"

Well great. Now he just felt bad. Even despot dictators had friends and family. Tony couldn’t be that bad... could he? That was just really sad. Maybe he was just so much of an asshole that no one wanted to be around him. Except for Bucky. But why? Because they shared that horrific experience...? Steve’s head was going in circles here, but he did manage to catch Bucky as he sat up.

“Are you crazy? You’re crazy. Can’t you just stay here?!” The answer? Nope. Bucky was too solidly built and Steve was still Steve. Without an arm he wasn’t all that much lighter. Steve wrapped his own around Bucky’s waist as he hoisted himself up, squeaking a little at his friend for being s dumb idiot. He said a few more choice words too as both of Bucky’s feet hit the floor.

“What have you been eating? Rocks?!”

Tony wasn’t alone. His assistant was there and so was the man that had brought Steve and his family by car and plane and car again. He was trying to look less goofy, more angry and intimidating. “Sorry. Mr Stark isn’t receiving visitors.”

From behind him, stack of papers on his lap, Tony snorted. “Stop kicking out my doctors, Happy.”

Jesus, being out of bed was draining as hell, he was sure he hadn't even been this tired when he had been battling an infection and his damn arm was still bleeding while they were trapped. But maybe that was because he'd had no choice but to carry on, to push everything else down, and now that was catching up on him.

He was leaning a bit more heavily on Steve than he might have wanted to, and probably both of them were panting by the time they got to the barrier in the form of the incongruously named Happy.

"The hell do you think you're doing running away from me, Stark?" He called out past the bodyguard in the doorway. "Let me in, or I'm gonna kick your ass."

He shouldn’t be so pleased but he was. Tony actually found himself smiling as he adjusted a pair of fat too expensive reading glasses. He didn’t bother to look up, but he did try to school his face into annoyance. It didn’t work. “Oh. Him. My nurse. Let him in too,” Tony said, flipping closed one of his documents to hand back to his assistant. No signature. There was going to be some squawking about that. Tony just didn’t want to be in the weapon’s game anymore.

Happy made some protest but Steve somehow managed to push around him and get Bucky his audience.

“Oh. And you brought a friend. Not out of the hospital yet so you can hold your criticism,” Tony said, smile still in place. He couldn’t help it. “Why are you out of bed? Just to kick my ass? I’m so honored.”

Bucky half flopped and half sat on the end of Tony's bed, giving him a look that was equal parts exasperation and fondness.

"Well, you ran away from me, it's not like I had much choice. You mind explaining why you moved yourself out while I was asleep? I was gonna introduce you to my family."

Steve rolled his eyes. "We've already met."

Bucky rolled his eyes right back. Twice as hard. "C'mon, Steve, lay off until we're both out of the hospital? I just want you to get along."

“I met your family. They were crying. Loudly.” Tony needed to be a dick. Especially in front of his help. And in front of Steve Rogers with his too big blue eyes. “I told you. I don’t do loud.”

It wasn’t true. It was part of his whole creative process. Loud music, loud metal grinding in metal. He loved loud. He just didn’t love the outpouring of sentiment. It seemed too weird to him. Not fake, exactly, but he barely even cried when his parents died. He didn’t cry when he was sent to boarding school or when his parents forgot to pick him up for holidays.

Tony didn’t do strong emotions. Or rather, he didn’t know how. His own feelings ended up getting buried, pooping in in small, strange ways. Like how his fingers left the folder in his lap to lightly grip Bucky’s soft white hospital t-shirt, right at the hem. Steve noticed. He pressed his lips together. “If you’re not in bed when the girls get back... let me go find them.”

Bucky glanced over at Steve gratefully. He knew it was only partially a way for his friend to escape the situation with Tony without having to be nice to him, but that was okay, because it was a decent gesture either way. So he nodded and even leaned in a little to give his friend a half hug.

"Thanks, Steve, you're the best. Tell them I'll be back in a little while, or if you're all too tired you can head back to where you're sleeping for the night."

He waited until Steve had left the room before he reached over and lightly thwapped the back of Tony's head with an unimpressed frown.

"That's for being a jerk, don't do it again. You don't care about loud, you're just trying to run away, quit it. Or next time I'll actually hit you hard enough for you to care about it."

“Tell me again how I’m running away? I’m literally right next door to you.” Tony rubbed the back of his head with his freehand before he settled back in the pillows. Mostly to keep from being smacked again. “You needed some space to be with your people. And I needed to sign some documents.”

Tony glanced up but was met with half a glare and an eye roll. He wasn’t trying to piss anyone off here but he also wasn’t going to go ahead with some of his commitments.

His business partners would just have to suck it.

“Why are you even here? Go spend time with your family. You spent months with me. I know I’m hard to get away from, but honestly. This is borderline stalking, Barnes.” Said the man still gripping Bucky’s shirt like it was life or death.

"Listen, Tony, if you make me do this dance then I'm gonna get really mad. You are my people now, and I don't want any of this bullshit where you get all weird and try and distance yourself before I do it, because I swear to god, I'll tell the whole world what weird face you make when you have to poop in a bucket in a cave. Don't test me."

He reached down and set his hand atop the one clutched in his shirt, gentle but firm, and gave Tony's hand a slight squeeze.

"I'm tired of fighting, okay? I've been fighting a long time, and I'm pretty sure we both have a lot of fighting left to do with your company and my family and both of our issues. So can we not make us being friends something I've gotta fight for?"

Bucky Barnes was as strange a person as they came and Tony was suddenly very well aware of the fact that he had no idea how to deal with this little revelation. He said horribly sweet things, the kind of things that heroines in movies write in their diaries about how it made them feel. The tingling warmth in his stomach and his groin wasn’t new, but it was strange to feel it outside of his teenage years, now that he knew how little that feeling meant.

Tony’s hand relaxed under Bucky’s and he smirked to save face. Not because his friend just told his two closest employees about shitting in a bucket in front of him, but because the experience was a shared memory with someone on equal footing.

So. Strange.

“I decided on the plane, when you strapped me into that jumpseat, that I was going to sleep with you,” Tony said in an almost off-handed way. “That literally had been my plan for the evening before you saved my life.” He made a face at Bucky’s face, surprise or disgust or whatever else it happened to be. “Hey. I’m just saying that I’m not something to fight for. We are friends. I was just giving you a little space to reunite with your sisters, you idiot. I’m not upping and leaving you before you leave me. I’ve still got plans to try to get into your pants at a later date.”

Did he have to try and spoil the moment? Yeah. He did.

Bucky's face wasn't disgusted or surprised, more wearily amused. He wasn't taking Tony seriously, he imagined this was just the way he was choosing to both deflect from actually having to say anything emotional back, and also reassure Bucky that he was planning to stick around without a fight.

"Good luck with that, Tony, I'm no easy lay to go to bed with just anyone. You're gonna have to wine and dine me, show me you care, hell I don't go to bed before at least the fifth date."

He smirked and then had to stifle a yawn. Stupid recovery.

"And don't be an ass to Steve, he means well and he's pretty much the best guy I know."

“I’m sorry. Fifth? Are you ninety years old? Were you raised in the forties?” He hadn’t said ‘wait for marriage’ at least.

Even without an arm, even with having the guy literally sponge bathe him and hold his dick so he didn’t piss down the front of himself on the days they were lucky enough to be given water, Tony still found those dark blue eyes and that handsome grin of his utterly irresistible.

“Fine. Five dates.” Yeah they weren’t talking about Steve right now. Tony had nothing kind to say about the other guy other than the fact that he was passionate about what he believed in. Misguided might be the nicest word he could muster.

Tony hated activists. They tended to be pretty skewed on the issues without understanding both sides of an argument.

And he didn’t want to talk about Steve right now except for one small aspect of his appearance at the hospital.

“Did you get my pizza? Happy. Talking to you. When you picked the kids up from Brooklyn? The pizza?”

“Yeah, of course, boss.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Go get it. And take these papers with you. I’m not signing any more contracts until I’ve taken a look at them without hospital lighting. Find some beer.”

“Not a good idea, Mr. Stark,” his assistant warned.

“All of my ideas are good ideas. Fine. Grape juice. That’s close to wine.” Maybe he was laying this joke on a little thick? Or maybe he just wanted something to be hopeful for. It was hard to tell with Tony.

Bucky settled himself down on the edge of Tony's bed and slumped a bit so he could rest his good shoulder against the wall. He would go back to his room in a bit, but he didn't feel like he could handle the walk right about now, and Steve would be with the girls so he wasn't in any hurry.

He waited until they brought in the pizza and grape juice, and then took the box and put it right out of Tony's reach.

"You just had open heart surgery, Tony, you're on whatever rations the doctor gives you until they say otherwise. But hey, thanks for the free pizza, I appreciate it."

Still want to bed him now?

"You can drink the grape juice, though, I'm a generous guy like that."

Yeah. Yeah he still did. What kind of person did that make him? Sad? Lonely? Up for a challenge? Masochistic? Maybe it was a little bit of all of the above. Tony was his harshest judge but this time, he didn't really take it on the chin. He just let Bucky take the pizza and lifted his head back ever so slightly.

"You know that my open heart surgery had to do with shrapnel being removed and not because of a bypass," he said, the amusement still bright in his voice. "But this still counts."

He ticked up one finger.

"At least save me the crusts." A little bit of dough can't be that bad.

Bucky deliberately took a big bite of the pizza and let out an exaggerated orgasmic moan at the taste of melted cheese, before shooting a shit-eating grin in Tony's direction.

"Sorry, even crusts are out of bounds unless the doctor says otherwise, and I'm pretty sure your specialist has gone home for the night so you can't check. How sad, guess you'll have to just drink your juice and deal with it."

Happy snorted very quietly, it was kind of amusing to see someone other than Ms. Potts deal with Tony so well, but he was smart enough not to say anything out loud.

"Wow. I'm going to remember this. Also, that's gross. Huge turn off. Clean yourself up, sir." Tony did drink his juice, though. Slowly. Deliberately. Having been half starved, dehydrated, and in great physical peril, he'd managed to keep only a small bit of food and water down. The blander the better.

But damn, that pizza just smelled so good.

The juice filled him up a half dozen sips later, though, and he settled himself back down against the pillows as Bucky struggled to stand up.

"You walked better after massive amounts of blood loss, Sarge," Tony called to Bucky's back. If he got the middle finger for his trouble, that would be so worth it.

As for a first date, he thought it actually went pretty well. He hadn't been on a date in decades though so he didn't really know.

Bucky did not consider that a first date, partially because he still thought that Tony had been joking about wanting to get in his pants, and partially because if that hadn't been a joke then he still hadn't actually asked Bucky out. Besides, a hospital is so not a romantic first date location.

Tony wouldn't be on his own for long, about twenty minutes after Bucky hobbled slowly off with the help of a nurse, one of his worst nightmares would appear. A smallish child without any sign of an accompanying adult. He might recognise her as the youngest of the sisters that had come to see Bucky, but even if his memory wasn't that clear then the family resemblance would be uncanny. She had Bucky's dark hair and deep blue eyes, and the same way of staring right through someone.

"You're Tony Stark, right?"

Happy could be seen outside playing with his phone and glancing up every few seconds, clearly watching for someone at eye level and not having noticed the intruder small enough to pass under his line of sight.

What demon had he pissed off, Tony thought to himself as he opened one eye to look at the child. He’d managed to get Potts out of the room with all of her papers but it hadn’t mattered. He couldn’t get any peace. A child? A child was worse case scenario though.

“Depends. You shouldn’t talk to strangers, didn’t anyone ever tell you that?” How did this little nugget of a girl get away from her older siblings? And how did she end up here?

Tony looked up, smirking at Happy. He really did need to invest in better security.

Lizzie looked entirely unimpressed and inserted herself further into the room, coming to sit on the chair beside the bed.

"I'm ten, not two, I don't need to be taught about stranger danger. Besides, you're not a stranger if you're Tony Stark, and I know you are anyway because I've seen you on a magazine cover."

She leaned forwards, elbows on the edge of her bed.

"Did you really save Bucky's life?"

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