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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Far from hating him for it, Bucky found himself letting out a rare snort of laughter. He had so many people these days - from doctors to his family - treating him as if mentioning the arm would cause him to shatter into glass. When actually the loss of his arm, as shitty as it was, didn't even compare to what they both went through long after the arm was gone.

To joke about it made it seem better, less an insurmountable disability and more something he could work around. He hoped that maybe Steve and the girls would get to this stage too, to help him feel normal, to help him feel himself again.

"Fuck you, Tony, that's insensitive. You can't be so-- uh-- armist. It's unconstitutional and I'll have you done for discriminatory jokes."

He did, however, slip into the right side of the bed.

“Armist? It’s true. I only like left sided everything so you’re at a huge disadvantage. Tell that to your blond. Maybe he’ll protest me and get my business shut down. Or tell your rightist support group and instagram their reaction.” Tony wasted no time getting comfortable because it was easy to do it with Bucky. The last time they’d laid together was on a straw mat in frigid cold smelling of body odor and urine.

This was something different. Tony could almost just fall asleep again, relaxed and without worry.

He kept his back towards Bucky, not quite as a safety precaution, though it did help.

“Also makes a lot more room for me on this side.”

It helped that Tony had his back to him, because he didn't think that he could keep his back to anyone in the same room as him, not even someone he trusted as much as Tony. He had been kicked awake too often in that dank little cave to ever want to display his vulnerable side to anyone.

He shifted a bit to get comfortable, luxuriously stretching his bare toes against the soft fabric of the sheets, and let the silence lapse for a bit just in comfortable camaraderie.

"You ever really think we'd make it back here?"

It's a soft question asked into the semi-gloom of the room, half expecting Tony to be asleep already or at least feign it to avoid a serious topic of conversation.

Tony didn’t want to lie but there was something about telling Bucky that he didn’t expect to open his eyes again most nights that he had closed them. It didn’t make for a good story and Tony had shown enough weakness to want to reverse course on this one.

“People like us don’t give up,” he said, smoothing the edges like cake batter. “And we didn’t. You didn’t let me die there when I could have. And you didn’t let yourself die there even when I was pretty sure you would. So yeah, Buck. We were always gonna make it out. And we did.”

Most of them did. They were both a little broken and they were both too cracked to ever be beautiful again in the traditional way and they both had been changed enough by the experience to let it cloud their lives. But they had made it out. Bucky Barnes was laying beside him, breathing. This was their best case scenario.

“Why? Did you only pretend to believe in me?”

"No, I believed in you. I believed we were gonna get out, because I had to. If I didn't believe that, then I couldn't keep going even when it hurt like hell. But it's weird because..."

He hesitated. He wasn't ashamed to talk to Tony, the man had seen him at his worst, had seen him bloody and pus covered and pissing on himself because he couldn't move from pain. They had sobbed in each others' arms and had bolstered each other up. It was just that he needed to find the right words.

"Now that we're out, it feels like it shouldn't have happened. Like this is some big hallucination, and I'm gonna wake up back there. Like I should'a died there."

That was a thought that Tony shared. It was why he couldn’t sleep. Before, back in the dark, he’d been so sure that if he slept, he’d never wake up. Now, he was sure that if he slept, he’d wake up in pain and covered in bugs and trying to keep his mind working enough to get them out. Or worse, he’d wake up back there and Bucky wouldn’t be breathing anymore. He’d he alone. And they’d leave him alone with that body, the whipping boy they used to force him to work, until his mind gave up.

The thought was momentarily paralyzing, like he was staring into Bucky’s unblinking, cloudy white eyes right now.

Tony swallowed down the worry and the sudden hitching breath.

“Hey listen. If we wake up back there I’ll get us out again. Spoiler alert, I know how to now.”

He heard the hitching of Tony's breath, felt it through the mattress they shared, and briefly felt a little guilty for bringing it up when they had both been relaxing. But obviously he wasn't the only one feeling that way, and he didn't want to get out of the habit of talking to Tony about everything and anything. If they couldn't tell each other things, they'd never tell anyone, and everything would fester inside until it killed them.

It took a bit of effort given how he was positioned, but he shifted so that his arm was free and laid his hand palm flat on Tony's back.

"Yeah, I guess you do. Maybe remind me of that from time to time, okay?"

Women didn’t touch a man like that. They stroked pretty fingers down your spine or traced a patch of skin everyone might forget exists on them, and they might even lay a dainty hand flat against you but no woman could do what Bucky had just done. The touch was wholly grounded and heavy, a true comfort that Tony had to stop himself from pressing back into.

“It wouldn’t take so long this time either,” he insisted, talking just to talk with a tongue too thick for his mouth and a Long Island accent making its presence known in a way it hadn’t since he was a teenager.

Not even the terrorists that had kidnapped him caused his guard to be so lacking.

“If I remind you too much you’re going to try to measure my ego again.”

Bucky didn't move his hand at all, just anchored himself in the comforting warmth of Tony's skin through his shirt. It felt real, it reminded him that this was real, even if it didn't feel like it.

"I don't care, a big ego is worth the price. Because this-- it's harder. Isn't that stupid? Back in that place I had a mission, I had a goal to focus on. It didn't matter how much they hurt me, because I had to survive to protect you and get us both home. Now we're here, and I don't have a mission any more. I'm scared, Tony. Like I might just eat a bullet one day."

It was all fucking confusing. He wasn't suicidal most of the time, he was grateful to be back. It's just when things got overwhelming then he lacked the concrete thing to cling to that he had back in the cave, now he had no purpose, and it made him feel like he was in danger of giving in and just letting go.

"...fuck, sorry. Forget I said anything."

It didn’t seem like Bucky, this sudden desire to end everything. He had a great family to go home to, he had never wanted to serve in the army anyway and had done it to protect the Barnes clan... and maybe his brothers and sisters in arms too. But that went against the sad, sorry, chipped piece of art who was still reaching through his own pain to help Tony.

Tony liked to be served (on his terms at least) but not but a fucking hero. Bucky managed to make him feel inadequate. And angry. Tony was getting really tired of having to deal with emotions he wasn’t used to.

“Keep your damn mission then,” Tony said, eyebrows shooting up. He half rolled over on Bucky’s hand, not entirely pinning him to place though it had the same effect. “Keep me from self destructing so you can keep yourself from self destructing.”

That was why it scared him so much, because it wasn't something he had ever felt before. But he felt so rudderless now. He had stressed so much while they were trapped about Steve and the girls, and how they would be coping without him, but it turned out they had coped really well. It felt like they'd begun to move on from him dying, and now he was back and he didn't fit any more.

It would probably horrify Steve to know he felt this way, and on some level he knew it was just his stupid fucking brain warping things. PTSD like the doctors said, even if he didn't want to face up to that himself.

He gave a stifled half laugh and half dry sob, and pulled his hand free from where Tony was pinning it. "No way, I know you. If you thought that me having to keep you from self destructing was all that was keeping me going, you'd deliberately self destruct to make sure I had things to do."

On his back now, Tony scoffed. “You make it sound like I care. You remember who I am, right?” Tony didn’t even look at Bucky. He just let a play acted annoyance merge into actual annoyance. He didn’t want to be thought of as some sort of goody goody that would actually try to help someone like that.

It didn’t make him feel good to be thought of as wholesome or heroic. He could almost hear the ghost of his father laughing about that.

“I don’t need a reason to be who I am. Talk to my supposedly non-existent PA if you don’t believe me. I have a record of blowing myself up. And never for a good cause.” Well now he was riled up. He didn’t usually let it get this far honestly but there was no helping it now and he pushed himself up on his elbow. “I’m being selfish here. If you end up going, what do I got to look forward to? And I’m pretty sure I could use the damned help here.”

"I don't want helping you to be a job or-- you're not a goddamn project, Tony, you're my friend. I'm gonna help you, I'm always gonna help you, but I need a different purpose."

He didn't want this to skew towards Tony thinking his only purpose was to be screwed up for Bucky's benefit, he wanted them to remain on even footing where they helped each other. No stupid egos in the way, and Tony would be his goddamn hero forever regardless of what he wanted and so Howard could laugh it up on the spirit plane all he wanted.

"I'm not going anywhere, I didn't say it right. I just meant that I scare myself sometimes and I need something. I always had something to work towards, you know? I worked towards good grades to get a good job, then I worked at basic training to advance and get better pay, then I worked at my missions, then I worked at keeping us alive, and now... now I haven't got any of that. I'm too fucked for work or school at the moment, and I've got no drive."

Opening and then shutting his mouth, Tony squinted down at Bucky and pushed himself upright more comfortably. “So you need something. And I can give you something. But you don’t want me to actually give you anything. So here we are and you’re drowning while I hold the rope out to you because you’re too stubborn to put the good arm to use. Why?”

Tony couldn’t read Bucky’s mind, couldn’t know that Bucky wanted to be friends with him without attachments. And even if he did know, Tony wasn’t sure what to do with that knowledge. Probably scoff.

“It’s not like I’m asking you to marry me for the green card here, Buck:”

"Because I know you, Tony. If you start thinking you're my project, then you're gonna close off and pretend that's the only reason you're my friend. I don't ever want there to be anything between us but plain old friendship, then you can't lie to yourself about having someone."

Maybe he's drowning, but he's not about to save himself by standing on someone else's shoulders so that they sink.

"I din't know what to do about all of this, I just-- I needed to say it out loud, you know? And I can't to anyone else."

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