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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Eyes rolling, Tony leaned forward with his elbow on one knee and shifted the phone to his other ear. “He’s fine, Mother Goose. He’s in the shower.” He paused for dramatic effect because yes, Bucky was in the shower. Right there. Water running and all. “We’re catching up. It’s been awhile. He’s famous now.”

So yeah, Rogers. Two famous people having conversations.

“Ordered pizza and burgers and we’re going to get a few pints of ice cream and braid each other’s hair. Rent an adult film and charge it to the room. I’ll pick up the tab tomorrow.”

See, this? This is what Steve hated about Tony already. He was genuinely worried and the man was cracking jokes like someone else's pain was nothing, like he had never heard of the word empathy.

Was he really in the room with Bucky while he was showering? Was he taking advantage of his friend in some way? He made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat.

"I think I'm gonna come over and make sure he's okay myself, if you can't answer seriously. Jerk."

“Back off.” Tony tried it the nice way but that wasn’t going to happen. “There’s a reason he asked me to call instead of calling you himself. He wants to be here for a little while. We will come and get you tomorrow to fly you both home. Buck is as fine as anyone can reasonably expect him to be. I’m going to go now.”

He didn’t forbid Steve from coming to his home because he didn’t want to say that out loud. Bucky was listening and he hadn’t heard Steve’s end of the conversation.

Tony didn’t want to worry him, didn’t want to make him feel like he was being split apart. Maybe Steve was in love with his best friend. Maybe he was jealous. Maybe he was just genuinely worried. Either way, he needed to learn to give Bucky his space.

After months of confinement, they both needed it. Literal and figurative.

Steve was gripping the phone so hard that if he had actually possessed any strength in his hands, he'd have easily crushed it by now. Tony was so aggravating, maybe it was just being in his company that had messed with Bucky's mind overseas and not the torture.

Argh.

"Listen, why couldn't you have just said that first? In case it's escaped your notice, we're all worried about Bucky, and making stupid jokes isn't helping that. You're a real piece of work, Tony Stark."

And then Steve, having got the last word, hung up himself.

It was met with another eye roll. Children. They were all so offended by everything and anything. It was a wonder that they even made it to college anymore before disintegrating into a pile of sparkles and hashtags. He wouldn’t concern himself about that and instead, slipped Bucky’s phone into his pants again.

“He’s really growing on me,” Tony said, lifting his voice to be heard over the spray.

Like a fungus, he did not say to go with it.

“Don’t forget the rinse and repeat part of the shampoo. You have as much hair now as my last girlfriend.”

Bucky poked his head out of the spray when Tony raised his voice as if he were only just listening now, when really he had been straining his ears the whole time to make sure it wasn't going too badly. He had winced at Tony's first choice of words because he knew that wouldn't go down well with Steve, but it seemed like it hadn't finished too badly.

Probably.

Guess he'd find out when Steve either turned up like a knight in shining armour, or stayed away as Tony had asked him to do.

His hair was plastered to his head and the curve of his hip became visible through the steam where he leaned forwards with a small grateful smile, looking tired as all hell after the events of today.

"And you nag as much as my last boyfriend. Now... do you think you have anything I can put on? My clothes are kind of gross."

“Only just as much? I’ll have to change that,” Tony smirked, groaning just a little as he stood, his knees protesting. With Bucky in the shower, he stood about two inches taller than Tony himself rather than the same height, and so the older man had to lift his eyes towards him. He let a hand linger on the outside of the shower door, resting on the handle. “I insist on being the most annoying person you’ve ever known.”

Tony could have won awards based on smiles like his, the tilt of his head and the position of his body appealing.

“You can wear something of mine. It won’t fit. How are you staying so jacked up during physical therapy?” he asked, which gave him a license to run his eyes down the visible sections of Bucky’s body.

Damn.

Bucky rolled his eyes so as to ignore the way a pleasant warmth spread through his belly looking at Tony like that. Nope. He would not end up with a crush on his friend, that would just make things really fucking awkward. So he was determined to ignore everything that might point that way with a single minded determination.

He disappeared back under the stream of water so as to not have to look at Tony any more and tried to enjoy the heat for just a while longer.

"If you ask me real nice then I might tell you my secrets. But only after I've got some clothes on."

“Doesn’t that defeat the point?” You know, asking for a friend. Still, Tony backs off, slightly damp from the steam of the shower, and opens the bathroom door to an unpleasant burst of cold air. The guest bathroom at this part of the mansion was annoyingly far from his own room and he made the hike there and back again in about ten minutes. Some of that trying to figure out what Bucky could wear of his without getting the circulation cut off, but a lot of it was just dragging his feet in general, attempting to cool down.

Bucky took a lot of effort to ignore but he couldn’t let it get to him.

“You’ve got a choice of black and white and grey. I know. You’d think I’d be flashier. And I am. But you’ll never button those shirts up.”

By this time Bucky had turned off the shower and stepped out onto the smooth tiled floor, dripping everywhere. He had a towel and was drying himself off, but still not making too much of an effort to hide his modesty from Tony as he glanced at the clothes on offer to him.

"Jesus, alright. Don't you have anything oversized that you use to slob around in on an evening? I guess the black will do if you really have nothing else."

Because he's going to look and feel like some idiot wearing his kid brother's clothes.

“Slob— I’ll pretend you didn’t say that.” He could offer, he thought, to help out with the drying— But that would be crazy. No. He wasn’t going to jeopardize the return of their friendship. They might have had one fake date in the hospital, but it was too important for Tony to insinuate himself into Bucky’s life in a normal way and not just try to get a guy into bed.

Tony knew how that went. He wasn’t always a one and done but the repeat offenders were never good for him.

He exhaled through his nose and pushed the clothing towards Bucky. “Finish up in here. I’m going to send Happy on a shopping trip so you don’t look like you’re trying too hard to show off how ripped you are.”

And pour himself some ice water because damn. Bucky might be an amputee but he was hot. And kind. And present. That wasn’t fair.

“And ice cream. Because I really am going to braid your hair.”

Bucky dried off as much as he could, but his skin was still slightly damp when he pulled on Tony's borrowed clothing, which didn't really help in getting it on because it stuck as well as being tight. He just about managed to pull the pants up, though his legs were bare from about three inches above his ankles and the material hugged his ass as tight as leggings would. But there was no way he could button the shirt, so he ended up leaving it open.

He padded out to where Tony had gone to give Happy orders to go on a shopping trip and gave him a tired and grateful looking smile. He felt better now, more balanced from earlier, and a bit embarrassed from it.

"No braiding, but I'll definitely take that ice cream."

“Braiding is non negotiable and price for room and board for the evening,” Tony said, not glancing over at Bucky, even when Happy made a sort of weird squeaking sound.

“See what you mean, Boss. Should be an hour in traffic. Will be right back,” Happy said, sizing Bucky up without asking him his sizes. He was paid to notice things and he was not going to ask what size Bucky wore in front of the guy that paid him, jeez!

Hands on his hips, Tony pretended that Bucky’s strange ensemble was normal and led him out into an insane, beautiful and modern kitchen with two separate stainless steel refrigerators. He popped open one to display not one, but two rows of Haagen Das pint containers.

“Got your favorite.” He has evidently been expecting his friend.

It was things like this that told Bucky how much Tony had been wanting company, even if he had done the ultimate in stupid things and run off to hide away. He really needed to take Tony in hand and teach him how to ask for help, and how to trust that his friends really liked him.

"I see how it is, look at all that ice cream, you're jealous of my physique and so you're trying to get me fat."

It didn't stop him from grabbing a container of cherry ice cream and tugging the top off, only to be stymied by the peel off lid underneath. It was difficult to peel without a second hand to hold the carton steady.

"...damn it."

Tony needed a help in a whole lot of things and didn’t even know it. Admitting it would be another battle all together and though Bucky might be a trained soldier, he probably didn’t want to tackle all of Tony’s issues. Not without a lot of ammo and some body armor at least.

“I don’t think you’re the type to get fat. Your
Metabolism is too high. Me, on the other hand? Now that’s an uphill battle.” Bucky didn’t even have to curse for Tony to reach over and tear off the film. “You’ve got teeth yanno,” he simply had to point out. “Or are you worried that you won’t be able to attract future boyfriends if your teeth are shot? You’re more than a movie star smile, Barnes.”

He licked the film and then tossed it in the garbage and grabbed some pistachio. He just had a fondness of green food.

Bucky snorted and gripped the ice cream tub between his knees to start scooping the delicious cherry goodness out with a spoon. It was only a half amused snort, there was a layer of bitterness underneath it.

"Oh, sure, because I'm on the market now. A scarred up, fucked up, amputee with a boatload of issues is a catch that anyone would be glad to have."

It sucked, but he wasn't sure he saw himself dating at all for a long while, maybe not ever. He was too scared of dragging someone down with him, or even worse, of hurting them by accident when he lost control of reality.

“There’s someone for everyone. Even Ted Bundy got a girlfriend and you’re not a serial killer. Probably. Are you a serial killer?” He knew the answer to that and the questioning was ridiculous but Tony had to play up the jokes to feel better about the conversation. Even with Bucky. The guy had almost half a year of lessons on the mannerisms of Tony Stark to be able to see through it the way that Steve could and maybe never would. “If I can get dates, you can get dates.”

When was the last time he dated though? Evidently Bucky didn’t count at the hospital and Tony was trying to let that ship sale the best he could.

When was the last time he had sex even? A few days before he was captured? He didn’t want to bring that up.

Settled in what amounted to a study of sorts, eating ice cream from a stock kept in a giant freezer, and watching Bucky in his clothes, Tony found himself questioning his own line of conversation. It could get dangerous pretty quickly.

“Have your friend set you up with bleeding hear liberal arts types. You’re famous now.”

"Oh, sure, because what I really want is to have a boyfriend who sees me as a projects to make him feel better about his social justice warrior persona. I can deal with it from Steve, I know he's genuine and he really is just angry about all this shit and really is just that good of a person. But like hell I'm going to sleep with someone who sees me as a charity case."

Oops, that got a bit away from him.

"Look, it's fine. I've got enough to be worrying about without trying to get laid, so it's not a big deal. Even if there was-- someone-- I found attractive, I'm not so much of an asshole as to do that to them. And thanks a bunch, by the way, I've always wanted to be compared to a goddamn serial killer. Jerk."

“I’ve been called a jerk today twice by Brooklyn accents. That’s a new record,” Tony complained, halfway through his ice cream. He’d not eaten well in days, preoccupied with not sleeping and working on his project, so his body craved the calories and he couldn’t really blame it. “Even for me.”

Steve and Bucky really did talk the same but when people grew up together, movies and television told him, that sort of shit happened.

It was still weird to think about. Tony never had anyone like that.

“But to back up? You’re not a charity case. Opposite honestly. You’re a fucking hero. Which is also a big draw. And better than being a serial killer.” His eyebrows waggled a little before he unfolded one of his legs and unceremoniously dropped it in Bucky’s lap.

His couch. His rules.

"Shut up."

He was becoming seriously uncomfortable with being labelled a hero all the time, even though it had been the only way to get the military to declare him alive and give him a full pension as he deserved. He wasn't a hero, he had been a prisoner and that's it. Same as Tony.

"You should get it, Tony, you have nightmares and shit in your head too. You're some great survivor to the public, but would you bring someone into your personal life and make them have to deal with all that?"

He sighed, but he didn't try and dislodge Tony from where he was sitting.

"Just drop it."

“I’m just having a conversation. And you are my fucking hero. You’ve wiped my ass. I can say that.” Which wasn’t the sexiest thing in the world to admit, but it grounded the conversation.

One he didn’t want to let go of now that it had turned somewhat.

“I don’t sleep,” he admitted after another spoonful of ice cream. “I try not to sleep. I’ve never been good at it but now I have more reason to stay awake. It’s not about getting more work done. I know it’s not manly to admit it, but I can’t bring myself to crawl into my bed alone and I don’t need it getting out there on the internet. So I can’t have sleep overs either. Sort of ruining my sex life.”

It was pretty big of Tony to make an admission of vulnerability rather than deflect with some dumb joke, and Bucky appreciated it. He sort of had the opposite problem, sleeping next to someone would be a bad idea, but he got the loneliness.

"Is it sex you need, or just company?"

Because those are two massively different things.

He wasn't judging, he knew some people coped differently and needed the intimacy of sex in order to feel normal again. If Tony was one of those people, then they'd need to work on a way of getting him to a place where he can have one night stands or something similar. Company would be easier to manage, Bucky could just offer that himself.

Everyone needed sex. Tony wanted to say it was purely that, because that was how it had always been. He frowned at Bucky as if it was a trick question he didn’t know how to answer.

Dark eyes drifted from Bucky to the space above Bucky as if willing someone to come into the room. No one did. He could deflect but Tony knew Bucky smelled bullshit like sharks smelled blood in the water.

“Company. Company is easier to manage when sex is involved,” he reasoned.

"Well-- I'm asking because I can do company."

It wasn't an offer that he'd make to anyone else, save Steve, and only because he knew Tony wouldn't give him hell about it. It wouldn't be the first time they'd spooned anyway, they'd done it to keep warm on nights sometimes back in that cell. It would be different now, but no less out of a different sort of necessity.

"But I think you might have to keep looking elsewhere for sex, no offence. You're a handsome man, Tony, but I don't think that would end well."

Ouch. He’d known Bucky wasn’t interested. He’d been told before. That did not mean that Tony could shut off his feelings though.

“Youve told me twice now that I’m not your type,” he teased though he didn’t feel like teasing. At least he could handle rejection. Mostly. He didn’t get angry or upset. Not outwardly. It made him a little easier to handle, or so he thought. “And I usually go for leggy blonds that hate my guts— Shit. I should have invited your friend over.”

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