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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“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?"

“You’re a stranger,” Tony pointed out, looking unimpressed. “You’re not on any magazine covers. Why should I talk to you?”

These people kept asking him the same thing and he was tired of denying it. He didn’t really save anyone’s life though. He get them both saved from captivity but that wasn’t the same thing as what Bucky had done for him.

Sugar coating it for the older brats was one thing and Tony’s medication was wearing off. Couple that with a severe lack of pizza and anyone could understand why he was so grumpy.

“Technically I didn’t save anyone’s life, kid. All I did was tell the military where to find us and they saved us. Good enough for twenty questions? Toddle off now before you give me a rash. Or cooties.”

"Actually, I was thinking that if you saved his life then I should say thank you, but if he saved your life and he was just being dumb and pretending like he's not a hero, then you might owe us something."

She shrugs, and shows no signs of leaving, because she's not that easily bullied. She's emotionally wrung out over the last few months, but that sort of tragedy and hardship has just matured her earlier and made her more determined to grab opportunities wherever she saw them.

And this could be an opportunity.

"Soooo... do you owe us something?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, did you fly your own private jet charter here? And rent your own cars? And put yourself up in a super nice hotel?" Tony didn't want to admit that he kind of liked this kid. She was cheeky, smart mouthed, and reminded him a little of himself when he was younger.

It was a bad combination to be sure.

"If I did owe you something, what would you even want? A pony with pink hair? A Mary Poppins type Nanny? Gum?" What do kids like these days?

Okay, so perhaps he had already done a lot for them, but she hadn't really considered that part because the hotel and flights and things had all been handled by Steve and Becca, so she hadn't realised that he was behind it. Oh well, she was in now, she might as well keep going.

"I want an internship when I'm old enough in the engineering department."

She folded her arms and tried to look both confident and severe.

"Not the weapons bit."

Hm. Tony wasn't displeased by her answer, which, honestly, seemed odd. He was often displeased by the way everyone operated, acted, talked, thought-- But this kid really had her head on straight. "Selfish. I like it." There was no way he couldn't get a dig in, all right? "But deal. If your math and science grades don't suck."

He even offered a hand, though she was probably just filled with germs and covered in a sticky mess, his luck. Still, one shook hands on business dealings. And then washed them furiously after.

He didn't bother to mention how short lived the 'weapons bit' would be though.

Lizzie shook hands with Tony with an entirely self satisfied smile, though it didn't entirely reach her eyes which were still red rimmed and slightly worried around the edges about the big brother in the other room.

"I'm not selfish, I just know that all the best money is in technology, and it's an industry that's going to keep growing because of the way the world is moving. I want that money. Bucky hasn't got an arm now, and someone has to make the money around here. Besides, Kyle Peterson in my class said that girls can't build robots, so I'm gonna build one that can kick his ass one day."

A pause, and then:

"Don't tell Becca I said ass."

“You’re more worried about saying ass than you are about threatening to kick the crap out of some kid at school? Okay sure, I can relate.” Tony didn’t like children but this kid didn’t act like a child. She was shrewd and she was smart and as far as he was concerned, she was probably he best that the Barnes family had to offer their gene pool.

He was still going to wash his hands though. Children were vessels for disease and sticky things without names or known scientific properties.

“You could tell her want to build a robot to protect people without mentioning the ass kicking. It’s better for PR, kid.” Just a little advice.

Lizzie rolled her eyes, but she took that as her cue to leave. She had a business arrangement set up and she wanted to get back to the rest of her family before they realised where she was, and also just because she wanted to see her big brother's face again. It was hard, thinking someone you loved was dead and gone, to have that person back was a miracle.

Tony would be left with only the nurses and Happy for company for the next two whole days, slowly improving, but with no visits from any of the Barnes clan. Maybe he had been forgotten after all...

But at least the machines were being reduced, and the nurses said he could get up that day and start moving around again, build up the muscles that had got weakened during his time imprisoned and in the hospital.

Tony was too proud to crack jokes about what ended up being a long and hard first step to physical therapy. He had his chest cracked open, muscles sliced through, and all of that after the trauma of having shrapnel in his chest and being forced to carry around a car battery for short. At least he’d had Bucky before, to lean on physically and mentally.

These two days alone with Ms. Potts and with Happy hadn’t been unpleasant but still left him with his skin crawling. The drugs kept away most of the nightmares but Tony didn’t have Bucky there to reach out to when the pain medication wore off or when a shadow spooked him. He couldn’t even look at the man he’d gotten to know every physical feature of over the course of those months.

Depression was a terrible thing. Tony tried to cover it up by working hard at getting fit again, but each time he was alone, all he felt was a terrible, lonely sadness. He didn’t understand it. He’d always been a lonely man. He’d just never known it before. Having the scales fall from his eyes, in the biblical sense, was truly telling.

It was probably no wonder when Tony was ordered to start walking that his legs took him to where he’d left Bucky. He was expecting an empty room. The guy had his family and future security and Tony Stark was public enemy number one with his bestie, after all.

He wouldn't find an empty room, Bucky would be inside hooked up to machines and seemingly asleep. He didn't look too good, pale and his hair was clumped in greasy sections as if it hadn't been washed in a little while.

But even if Bucky was asleep, Tony would find his number one enemy sitting in a chair beside the bed awake and ready to rumble. He had been sketching, a pad loosely resting on his knees and a pencil still in his hand, but he'd stopped when the door opened and his expression shifted into a scowl.

...and then out of a scowl into a rictus polite smile, because he'd promised Bucky to at least try and be civil for a little while.

"Mr. Stark, something I can help you with?"

Oh. Him. Tony didn’t want to focus on anyone else but himself (and Bucky, maybe) right now and so Steve Rogers was not at all a welcome sight.

The blond was nothing to him, just some social warrior who thought he could change the world by talking and bashing his tiny body against it. That’s not how change happened. Tony could school him on that but he wouldn’t. He’d promised Bucky.

Besides, he didn’t hate the kid. He didn’t know him enough to feel anything towards him.

The anxiety racing through his blood was geared only towards Bucky and why he looked like that. “What happened?”

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