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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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.

Bucky didn't even consider what he was doing, he just leaned into Tony as if the man was his lifebelt in the middle of a choppy ocean, pushing his sweaty forehead into Tony's chest and exhaling a very ragged breath.

It took almost ten full minutes for him to calm down enough to regain his sense of self, and no longer just be a ball of adrenaline and terror, unable to do anything but exist in the moment and try and keep his bones from vibrating right out of his skin with how hard he was trembling.

"--shit. Shit, I'm sorry. I didn't think that would happen."

He knew he had issues with things on his left now, but that horrible sensation of having the dead arm reattached was out of the blue.

“I don’t even know what happened,” Tony agreed, as if his opinion on the matter was somehow Wright and worthy of consideration. He didn’t pause in the way he stroked Bucky’s hair, but he did sit back on his haunches to give his knees a break, hauling Bucky into his arms.

He was finally starting to get hungry, but the smell of sick in the room was overpowering that urge, and almost every other urge that wasn’t the desire to flee the scene.

“We should get you cleaned up. Nothing of mine is going to fit you properly and you’re going to stretch out the shoulders on all of my shirts.” He couldn’t really be smug about it. Not when the smell of Bucky’s sweat was actually comforting, in the twisted way panic had fused it to his psyche. “JARVIS, have Ms Potts send in the cleaners. Code Drunk.”

"Yes, sir. The cleaning crew have already been alerted, and may I remind you that the second bathroom cupboards are stocked with anti-emetic medications." JARVIS was nothing if not hyper-competent, after all.

Despite this being the first time hearing JARVIS, Bucky wasn't startled. Tony had told him all about the AI that had been based on his childhood butler, and he had other things on his mind currently.

"It was the arm," he muttered, feeling like Tony deserved the truth even if it was embarrassing and more than a little pathetic. "Because I couldn't feel it, it was like-- like someone had just sewn back on the dead arm I lost."

“Okay. Good. See, now we’re working collaboratively. You need sensation. That’s going to be an interesting project.” Tony pulled Bucky up to his feet and got that good arm over his shoulders. He was sure Bucky could walk on his own, but why risk it?

The mansion was all glass corridors and wide, beautifully cut and polished floors. The furniture was minimal, looked uncomfortable, and had been designed that way.

Tony used very few rooms. He didn’t want anyone to linger anywhere else.

Bucky could seat himself on the toilet in the bathroom JARVIS had mentioned and Tony would play with the shower until he figured out how it worked. He didn’t usually bother with this one and it showed.

He wasn't even sure that sensation would make it easy to wear, but at least Tony seemed to understand that this wasn't anything against his arm per se, more just that it would be a process they both needed to figure out together.

It took a good few minutes sat on the toilet before he felt steady enough to get back to his feet and start to pull his soiled clothes off. He wasn't embarrassed by Tony being there, they had both seen much worse from each other being trapped in a damn cave for literal months. It was difficult to have shame with someone who had seen you shit in a bucket and try and bathe yourself with rainwater.

"Jesus, that wasn't fun," he snorted, quiet and not particularly convincingly. "Thanks for calling me a big baby."

“You are a big baby,” Tony snorted, hearing the crews come in to clean up the room. Pepper would be told that no one ate the salads, though, and so Tony stepped towards the door to shut and lock it. Even his assistant wouldn’t bother him in the bathroom. Probably.

The fancy subway tiles turned cool and damp from steam and the mirrors fogged up as the warm water humidified the glass. Tony’s Hair even started to look a little weighed down and his shirt stuck to his chest as he watched Bucky right up until the shower door fogged over.

Too bad. It had been a great view.

“But you’ve been since I met you. Didn’t expect you to have changed so much honestly.”

Bucky turned the water up so that it was nearly scalding, turning his skin pink wherever it touched, and just leaned into the comforting stream of water to ease the way his muscles were cramping now that the sudden shock of adrenaline had worn off.

It was weird. If this were Steve or one of the girls, he would be ashamed of what had happened and probably trying to be alone to avoid seeing looks of pity, but he didn't feel that way with Tony. Maybe because he'd talked Tony through his share of panics in that horrible place as well.

"...thanks, Tony."

He hesitated a moment.

"Hey, can I stay here tonight?"

“I thought you were gonna stay here, anyway,” Toby said honestly. “Aren’t we headed to Brooklyn tomorrow? Why would you go without me?” He lingered because he could, because they didn’t have any secrets (save for one) and because Tony was pretty sure that Bucky needed him to stay. He was glad to oblige, even if it was uncomfortable being in the bathroom while someone else was showering.

He peeled himself off of the tile and picked up fallen clothing instead, folding it not because he was anal in that particular way but because it was either that or sit on the toilet and watch Bucky scrub his balls.

“Pep can make sure that one of the guest rooms doesn’t have too many unfinished projects or dust in it.”

"I was gonna go back to the hotel, Steve's waiting for me."

He just couldn't handle leaving, though. He was exhausted from the panic attack, and the thought of stepping outside of this small bubble of safety that Tony represented, even if it was to get back to the bubble of safety that Steve represented, was more than he could handle.

"My phone's in one of my pockets, can you call Steve? Tell him where I am and not to wait up for me or worry."

He knew he should do it himself. But Steve knew him better than anyone alive, he'd know something was wrong from Bucky's voice and want to come and help out. And he wanted him there, he always wanted Steve around, but he didn't feel up to mediating between Steve and Tony tonight so it was best that Steve stay away.

Though he’d gone ahead to grab Bucky’s phone, the moment the man clarified what he wanted caused Tony to smirk and tilt his head. “You want me-- Okay. Your funeral.” It didn’t take much time at all for him to find Steve’s number and he pushed the button before Bucky had time to protest.

As expected, he was met with a hostile voice immediately: “It’s been hours—”

“Months actually,” Tony said, smoothly. “Hi. It’s Stark. Barnes is with me. I’ll send a car tomorrow to grab you before we head to New York. Elevenish, whenever check out is.” He wanted to just spit out information. Maybe Steve would back down.

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