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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"Different strokes," was all that Tony could honestly say. He didn't think that Rogers was an acquired taste, he didn't think he was anyone's taste at all, but obviously Bucky liked him and Tony wasn't in the business of dictating who other people got to hang out with.

He could even swallow a lot of unpleasantness until his idiosyncrasies caught up to him.

"It's fine. I got the feeling that most of your people don't do well with instruction. Don't know how you got promoted to Sergeant actually."

"Because I'm really good with a gun."

Or maybe because he used to be, he's not sure any more, whether losing his arm might have affected how he holds his body and therefore how he aims. But then again, he didn't expect to ever have to use a gun again, so who the hell cared?

He pushed to his feet only to flop down almost on top of Tony and fling his remaining arm around his friend's shoulders, tugging him in for a hug whether he wanted to or not.

"You'll have years to come around to them all, Tony, just give them a chance, okay?"

Oh, he wanted it. It had been the first time that he allowed someone to touch him in a month. Pepper tried to hug him once after rushing in when he was having a night terror and, though he hated to admit it, he shrieked and fell out of bed.

He knew Bucky. Everyone else was pain. So much pain.

Tony shifted so that the other man was better against him, pressing into the gap between arm and chest, and draped one leg over the arm of the couch. His hand reached out so fingers could wrap around Bucky’s wrist, lightly, without a holding pressure.

“Hm.” His face contorted. “There’s not a lot I wouldn’t do for you. You suck.”

Bucky would understand if Tony told him about that. He'd always been fairly tactile with the people he loved, and he still was, but only on his terms. He couldn't stand people coming up on him from his left now, it felt too vulnerable without an arm there to defend himself, and if he wasn't prepared for a touch then he could lash out. He'd already given Steve a bloody nose once.

Thank God Steve was used to getting a bloody nose.

"You don't mean that, pal, you love me really. And you already like Lizzie, so that's one down, you just have to not hide on your 'floor' or whatever the hell you end up getting to live in."

“I can do what I want. It’s my floor,” Tony groused but didn’t really mean it. He wasn’t going to stay hidden in his palace, not when Bucky was roaming beneath him somewhere. He would just have to make more strategic appearances if that combative blond was going to be there too.

Tony didn’t want to give anyone a bloody nose but he felt like Steve Rogers’ nose was sort of a magnet for fists. He was just that infuriating. Bucky probably had to spend their entire youth trying to keep the kid out of danger.

He would have to ask about it sometime.

You know. When he decided to care.

Tony tilted his head back against Bucky’s shoulder, lightly flexing his foot at the ankle over the armrest. “And I need peace and quiet. I’m working on my next breakthrough.”

It felt comfortable to have Tony nestled against him. Tony had been the one presence amongst the terror and the pain that had been on his side, the one that helped him rather than hurt him more, and so he was intrinsically a place of safety in the way that nobody else was. Steve and the girls, he loved them dearly, but he'd have to learn to trust them in his personal space again.

It's probably one of the reasons why Steve had been so pissy about Tony, and so unwilling to even try. He had never been second fiddle with Bucky for anything before, it had to be weird to see that happening now.

"Yeah? What kind of breakthrough, do I need to start taking cover now, or do I have some time?"

“Uh, thought I’d dabble in robotics,” replied the man who revolutionized the industry. “Something with more autonomy. Sentient vacuum cleaners, learning television sets. Implant prosthetics. All the things a crazed mad scientist might want under his belt before he hit his mid forties.”

He’d already improved the AI inside of a Roomba so it could scan a space and detect dirt rather than just map every square foot of a room and make note to cover every inch. And he’d improved the AI of a television too so that it learned not to play those sad child and animal commercials and would change the channel whenever a commercial came on and change back just before the show started again. Limbs, though; were harder.

Mostly because he had all of his and trying to get his brain to control a third arm was incredibly difficult, even when he set it up to mirror his left arm rather than act as a tertiary limb.

“You probably have a few months before any of them gain the ability to Skynet us.”

"Prosthetic limbs, huh?"

Bucky wasn't as much of a moron as he appeared, and he could appear to be quite the moron when next to the dizzying intellect of a bona fida genius. Tony had never been interested in artificial limbs before, despite what other robotics work he might have been doing, and he doubted it was a coincidence now.

"So if I guinea pig one of those for you down the line, is it going to turn out to be evil? Like it'll want to kill people and I'll have to end up in a battle royale to destroy it before it destroys me? Because I've gotta tell you, I've seen that movie and it doesn't end well."

Tony was immediately surprised when he heard Bucky’s answer. He’d expected some sort of anger or disappointment, some of that tough guy, I don’t need your help attitude. It was why he had buried the truth in with the (somewhat) exaggeration. Instead, he was just ribbing him about it. He hadn’t closed himself off and Tony felt his fingers close a little more tightly around his wrist in gratitude.

This was comfortable. He could almost sleep again, it felt so inviting and warm. He didn’t want Bucky to shun him, suddenly. But that wasn’t going to happen.

Maybe he should have known that too. They were too connected now. Even if Tony had gone practically into hiding in an effort to protect himself.

“Real life isn’t like the movies. Robots can’t be inherently evil. They just follow programming. So... fifty-fifty chance. I’m willing to put our lives on the line for those odds.”

Bucky had learned in that horrible place that relying on people sometimes was just necessary and pride be damned, and he really wanted a new arm. If anyone could give him back a sense of normalcy, and not just a dead piece of plastic to fill a sleeve, then it had to be Tony.

"I swear, Tony, if you program a robot arm to kill things, then I'm going to let it throttle you before I shut it down. That's poetic justice, right? The creation kills the creator."

He wriggled a bit to get more comfortable with Tony's weight against him, sighing softly.

"You need a janitor or something while you're working on miracles? I'm kinda unemployed now."

A soft chuckle answered Bucky’s warning. Tony had never been one for being the little spoon before, and he was not a cuddle on the couch person, but this was relaxing, this felt good. He could already feel himself slipping out of consciousness and rather than fight it, he just let himself go.

Several hours passed before he stirred, and that was only because JARVIS had been told to message Tony about having something to eat. Pepper had been on him like a hawk, though he tended to blow her off. She was just an employee, not someone that could completely boss him around and they both knew it. Still, the need to relief himself and stretch came with the sudden return to consciousness and if Bucky managed to stay asleep through all of that, he’d wake up a bit later to Tony doing some tinkering on a metal, beautifully crafted arm thrown over his lap, some salad and sandwiches wrapped up on the table across from them.

Bucky remained asleep throughout the whole time. He hadn't slept much in months, not during their ordeal and certainly not after, so his body was clinging to the chance as much as possible before his brain ruined it for them again. When he did eventually open his eyes, mouth feeling like it was full of sandpaper, he stretched like a cat.

"Tony? What are you--"

And then he caught sight of it.

His mouth fell open in a way that was probably very gratifying for the inventor and his eyes went wide. That-- that wasn't just a prosthetic, that was like something out of science fiction. There was no way it was functional, was there?

“Probably not going to work as intended right away so don’t give me that worshipful look just yet,” Tony said without actually glancing in Bucky’s direction. He had a screwdriver in one hand and was making the fingers of the arm curl inward in sequence. They weren’t as fluid as he would like. The wrist was much better.

Smaller servos? Maybe he’d have to manufacture his own ballbearings?

“Want to try it on?” Now he was looking directly at Bucky, leaning over to set the screw driver on top of one of the plastic containers of salads. “It’s not an elegant entry system yet. I’ll fit with with a topical neural net for your head—. The arm at least is pretty light. Carbon nanotubing.”

"Slow down, pal, you might as well have just said all of that in Klingon, I've no idea what you're talking about."

He was kind of nervous. Awestruck, yes, but also frightened. He didn't want to have something strapped to him that he didn't understand, no matter how much he trusted Tony to be on his side.

"What the hell is a topical neural net?"

It sounded like weird fishing equipment.

“Kling— You’re such a nerd. Wow. No. It’s like a lunch lady hair let that can read the electrical movements of your brain and translate that to the motorized function in the arm so it will move the way you want it to.” Tony acted as if that explanation was any less nerdy, scoffing at the weird cultural reference. Was Bucky even old enough to know what the Real Star Trek was? Doubtful.

He hoisted himself off of the couch and dropped the surprisingly light arm into Bucky’s lap.

“Eventually, this would become part of you. The net can be implanted under the skin. The arm will rotate into a socket in your shoulder— I’ve always wanted a cyborg friend.”

It didn’t really occur to him that his words could be so frightening. That said, he still tried to handwave away the medical issues that would come if Bucky wanted the limb to be permanent.

“For right now, you get a hair net and a sling. As long as you’re not trying to lift anything too heavy for the sling, should work decently enough. I can eat soup with it. Barely any third degree burns.”

Bucky recoiled back slightly, mind already whirring on how he could phrase this without upsetting Tony who could be pretty damn sensitive if he thought that a gift was being snubbed. Because the arm was amazing, it really goddamn was, he was just... he was scared about more medical procedures, or having something attached to him, or-- all of this crap.

"Uh-- okay, we can try it."

He scrubbed his hand through his hair, brow furrowed.

"But I can take it off if it freaks me out, right?"

Hopefully that would be okay. It was an admission of Bucky's vulnerabilities, rather than an attack on Tony and his generous gift.

“Yeah. It’s just got belt straps right now— Shit. Where the hell did I put the belt straps...” Tony was usually pretty orderly but when he was hard at work, things tended to go everywhere. He would eventually crawl around Bucky’s legs to find one of the straps under the couch. The other was flung over the television from where he’d thrown it after his last test.

And that got him thinking.

“How about I show you?”

Bucky wouldn’t have to do anything that way, but sit down and watch. Assuming the other man would like that better, Tony threaded the leather through several loops in the metal and hoisted the whole thing on like a shoulder holster. He could do up the buckles with one hand, mostly because he’d gotten good at it during the initial self trial phase, and while he looked ridiculous with two arms on his left side, he didn’t seem bothered by it at all.

The net looked ridiculous, though, blue and silver with glowing diodes that trailed down his neck. He hooked a few up to his temples and to his neck and then fiddled around in the metal arm until the whole ting whirred to life.

Both of Tony’s left arms, real and false, lifted to wave to Bucky.

The arm itself was beautiful, it was sleek and elegant, but it was also alien. Nobody else in the world had an arm like this and he wasn't sure that he wanted to be the first ever cyborg. He was already being singled out enough thanks to the army and their stupid decision to spin his return as a victory for their PR department, he'd never be able to keep a low profile if he had a metal arm hanging off his side.

Then again, if it really worked, and it could be done without that weird-ass hairnet, then he could keep it covered with a sleeve and gloves. He could be normal again, not even singled out because of the empty sleeve at his side.

"That's so weird," he breathed as Tony waved at him. "Can you feel it? Does it get sensation? Does it hurt?"

“Hurt? It doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t feel much of anything. Working on that. The transfer is only one way right now. Brain to arm. I just think about moving my left thumb and that’s what happens. It’s all about impulse and— You know what, I’ll explain this to your sister. You’re too much of a meat head.”

Tony approached Bucky and used the metal arm to pick up the salad. His real hand made the same motion, clutching a box made of air. He was slow about it, watching the plastic dimple a little, since he couldn’t feel it and his left hand didn’t have the sensation of holding anything. It was tricky.

“It’s going to be easier for you. You won’t have the real limb get in the way so the whole thing will be fluid. You’ll just have to get over the fact that you can’t feel how hard you’re holding something. I broke some stuff the first few times. You should see the amount of shoe laces I knotted.” Tony couldn’t help but grin as both left hands settled on his hip, real above the metal. “We can cover the net with a baseball cap and a turtle neck. We can slap some gloves on you. Might help, like the mirror therapy you were talking about in one of your interviews? This is just a little better than a mirror.”

He wasn't sure about going around with this weird cap on his head all day, even if it was hidden mostly from view, but he knew Tony well enough to know that this would just be a prototype stage. He liked his inventions to be sleek and peerless, he'd keep working until he found a way for Bucky to control this without the cap or surgery, Bucky knew it.

Or hoped it.

"...okay, then let's try it."

He didn't mean to sound so reticent, but he was genuinely nervous about this. He wasn't keen on things on his left side now anyway, and he wasn't sure how this would feel against the scar tissue. Still, he pulled off his shirt, revealing a scarred torso, and stood still to attention without flinching.

"I'm ready, put it on me."

Bucky has the most undeniably blue eyes that Tony had ever seen and getting so close to him to transfer the arm and adjust the belt was just a little maddening. He’d rather slip something else on, he thought to himself, inappropriately, and drew back without any lingering touches. Well. Too many lingering touches at least.

It was harder when fitting on the net, and Tony fussed more than he should have, knowing Bucky likely wouldn’t notice. He was too nervous, too in his own head, to pay attention to Tony fitting and refitting the wiring around his ear.

He took a good step back and crossed his arms.

“It’s going to take a few minutes for the connection to work. The net and the arm need to talk and learn your electrical signals. So. Mess around. It’s okay if you smash stuff. It’s not the arm coming to life. Promise.”

Tony, and perhaps Steve, were the only ones he would ever let touch him like this now, especially more vulnerable on his left and without his shirt on. His muscles were tense, whipcord hard under the skin as he stood as still as possible, and his breathing was just that bit too shallow.

The net wasn't too bad, though it tugged strands of his hair awkwardly when he moved his head, but the arm made him feel like he had intense vertigo. Just the weight of it there, on his left, and unable to feel anything from it. It made him feel as though his severed arm had been uselessly sewn back on, a rotting dead piece of flesh on the side of his body.

Going dead white in the span of about three seconds would be all the warning that Tony would get before Bucky was desperately trying to tug the arm off him, mostly in a futile effort because he was also bent over vomiting on the nice expensive carpet.

Oops.

“Uh...”

So no one had ever thrown up because of his inventions before. They’d been sick with envy but that wasn’t the same thing. Tony managed to back away before he could get thrown up on, but that was about all he did for a full moment.

Bucky was probably too sick and too scared to notice that his left arm was actually helping his right undo the buckle, or that the net he wore was still making the left hand move once it was thrown away.

The older man frowned ever so slightly.

“That wasn’t bad for the first time around,” he said, only joking to loosen up the tightly wound situation they found themselves in.

Bucky could feel that his entire body was trembling all over and it was making him clumsy, fumbling with the buckles until the metal hand actually had to do it for him. As soon as it was loose enough, Bucky threw it bodily away from him without even thinking about how expensive or delicate it might be.

He ignored the net in his hair, unable to do much more other than go to his hands and knees and keep being sick until there was nothing left to bring up except bile that burned his throat and tongue as it came up.

When this ended he'd be mortified for showing such weakness, and desperately upset in case he'd offended Tony. But right now, all he could feel was fear.

Bucky has nothing to fear for Tony’s sake. The moment he stopped vomiting and was safe, Tont crouched down next to him and, as if he was a big dog, wrapped his arms around his neck and held him close. The net was placed on the table, the most delicate portion of the whole ensemble that it was, and the arm ignored for now.

It wouldn’t be damaged. Bucky could have another go at it later.

Babysteps.

“I’ve got you. You’re all right.”

He wasn’t sure what had caused the anxiety but they’d figure it out. All he knew was that it worked. Physically. The rest would be the harder part. He’d just have to make sure to see Bucky through it.

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