fossilised | military mistletoe

A quick scan of the room revealed that there wasn’t a phone in here either. It would have been simple to get an outside line. Tony didn’t have a cell. His assistant might, and even if not, he’d just pass along phone numbers Bucky wanted called.

They couldn’t keep them in a black hole for long.

“My weapons days are over,” Tony said, his anger leaving him exhausted to the point where he could barely speak. He just needed to heal, and Bucky did too, though Tony thought he looked much better without the stump. It would just be more difficult to fit s prosthetic on later and limit his control.

Then again, it would likely launch a new part of Tony’s career if he could figure out what to do about that. His lips pursed together, design schematics forming on his eyelids.

“This is going to sound crazy, but it’s weird to have you over there.” They'd spent most of their nights close together to ward off the cold.

Bucky wasn't a naturally tactile person, especially not after being captured twice and held as a prisoner, but with Tony it had been a matter for survival and he kind of got that it would have been comforting. They were bonded now in a way that he thought would last forever, even if he knew Tony well enough by now to know that the idiot would assume Bucky wouldn't want to know him now they were free.

"Sorry, pal, but we're both hooked up to too much shit for any relocation, guess you're going to have to live without my firm butt next to you."

He smiled, something half hearted.

"...this wasn't how I pictured us getting out, you know? I thought I'd at least get to see my family, I didn't think I'd be treated like a goddamn criminal for surviving."

“Your butt isn’t as firm as you seem to think it is, Sarg,” Tony grinned. It was easier to tease than it was to just lay here and feel sorry for themselves. “And I didn’t know your people were such absolute dicks. Should have guessed, judging by you, but I thought you were a one off.”

Tony himself didn’t like to be touched. He hadn’t before being left for dead in the Middle East and there was no way that was going to change now, but he’d just grown used to having Bucky right next to him every time he shut his eyes that it was honestly difficult to relax with just some steel bars keeping him in place.

Man. He just really hated all of this.

“You’re going to see your family again. Soon. You’re going to owe me another drink.” People tended to be dismissive of Tony Stark. It didn’t matter how often he showed his genius, he was still just Howard’s kid.

But it was odd that Rhodey hadn’t been here. Or Happy. Or even Obadiah.

Little did Tony know that Obadiah had been working under the assumption that Stark wouldn't return, he wasn't supposed to return, and now he was doing some fast thinking and some damage control so that he could maintain his image as that one kindly friend of Howard's who had Tony's affection and confidence.

Damn it.

Happy was actually there, in the waiting room, but had been denied entrance about fifteen times thanks to security protocols, and Rhodey was currently on a deployment that meant he wasn't yet free to come to California. Not that either of them knew any of this.

"We're both gonna see our people again, we just need to find a phone. Come on, Tony, I thought you were some kind of genius, can't you jimmy a phone out of what we have in here or something?"

“Isn’t what I’ve already done for you enough?” He snorted, cracking one eye open just to double check that Bucky was still there. It was crazy how attached he had gotten and the numbing thought that this wouldn’t last forever was just starting to seep in. Buck would go home. And that would be that.

Maybe he could offer him a job? Tony tended to solve friendship matters with employment. People stayed for the money and he got their friendship out of it.

It seemed like a good plan to him.

“Tell you what. Start working that boyish charm on one of the nurses and get yourself a phone. No one leaves them in their lockers. They all have them in their back pockets. Maybe you’ll even get a number out of it?” Tony was still strapped down to keep him from moving too much so his arms were no longer in service. And Bucky still had at least one.

"I saved your life too, pal. Pretty sure you owe me at least one crappy phone, tell them you need to call your bank to prepare them for the massive cheque you're gonna write or something."

He wasn't interested in the nurses even if they would be keen to look in on him, and that was doubtful given that he hadn't had anything other than a sponge bath in literal months and was down an arm.

"How about you start pulling your weight around here, huh, Stark?" He grinned, because it was easier to joke. Easier for them both, it was just something they had got used to. "Such a damn slacker, acting like you have a right to slob around just because you've had open heart surgery."

“And you lost an arm? Big. Deal. You have another perfectly good one. You didn’t even lose your jacking arm so i have no idea why you’re throwing such a damned fit.” Anyone watching this would very likely be utterly appalled. “Best I can do with just a heart monitor and IV drip is wait until these idiots let me out or try to get me to build a missile for them.”

Not to sugar coat things but they were still stuck here under the whim of someone else. That was the worst part really.

Tony had expected at least a little bit of autonomy. This was by and large ridiculous.

“A few days won’t make a difference,” he murmured. “Take a god damned nap already and let me think.”

It made a difference, but Bucky didn't want to articulate why. Some things were just too personal and awkward, but he was worried about how his sisters were coping with finances - Becca was the next oldest and she was still in high school, what if she dropped out so she could support them all? What if his sisters were in foster care now because his money wasn't coming in any more to let them be semi-independent?

And Steve, too. He had no idea how Steve would have reacted to the news that he was dead, but he was damn sure it wouldn't have been well. He needed to see them all again, he needed to make his absence right.

"...you know why I enlisted?" Maybe he did need to talk about it a bit. "To support my sisters. I couldn't go to college and earn money to keep them out of foster care, but to be a legal guardian I had to be able to support them all. The army gave me a place to earn money where all of it could go to them, room and board paid for, and they'd pay for me to go to college after. I did everything the damn army asked of me. I got caught, fucking twice, and I never told anyone anything, I never broke, I just-- I don't get it. What the fuck did I do wrong? Why the fuck won't they let me call my family, why are they treating me like a criminal?"

Oops, that was a bit much, but once he started it just seemed to keep coming, voice tight and a bit thick. He had given everything for his country, he had fought as hard as he could and lost so much, and they were acting like they'd rather he'd died.

"I just want a damn phone call."

“We had four months and you never told me this?” Tony asked, eyes staying closed because he didn’t need to see Bucky’s face. He knew the man must be totally heartbroken just from the way his voice cracked.

He exhaled slowly, biding his time, and not making an offer he already knew that Bucky would accept because he had no choice. He’d be proud but this was for his family.

“I owe you more than the welfare of your siblings. You didn’t do anything wrong. The world is just a shitty place and then you die.” He didn’t like to hear the sudden frantic pressure from the mouth of the guy who had been holding him sane for months now. “I’m getting you that phone. I’m finding your sisters. You trusted me once so keep on doing that.”

"I didn't tell you because it was too hard. I didn't know if we were really gonna make it out of there, and talking about them hurt too much."

His voice was still thick, but also muffled in a way that might tell Tony that he was trying to surreptitiously wipe his face on his sheet so there was no trace left of any unmanly tears.

"It's not that I didn't want you to know, and I do trust you. Hell, it's pretty much you, Steve, Becca, Beth, and Lizzie. That's it. Jesus, it's been months since they said I was dead, do you think they gave them any kind of compensation payment? Steve's medical insurance was being paid for by my salary too."

Bucky had kept literally nothing of his pay for himself, he was kind of a moron that way. When he went all in for someone, he was loyal til the end, no matter what.

"But, I mean-- yeah, okay. If you say you can get me the phone, I believe you. Just don't leave it too long, slacker."

It was a poor attempt to get back to the lightness of teasing, spoiled by the way his voice was still wavering a bit.

“If you’re dead, they get your pension,” Tony said, which sounded right but he wasn’t sure. He didn’t know a lot about the world to be honest. He might not be in a literally ivory tower but he certainly was in one inside of his own head, plugging away at the world without consequence.

He made a huge gesture of swallowing, mostly because he needed to with the pain, and then, closed his eyes again.

When his assistant was allowed in, they could make a plan. Until then, there wasn’t much he could do. He needed a friendly face who wasn’t locked down to a hospital bed to visit first, but without knowing that he was being railroaded, that the mess left was being covered up, he was stuck here with Bucky.

Stuck? It wasn’t exactly a hardship. They’d become very close but a lot of the personal stuff— Shit. It was hard to realize how little they actually knew each other.

It wasn't that they didn't know each other, it's just that Bucky had been careful while they were trapped to keep his stories more upbeat because he was trying to keep morale up. He told Tony about how Steve got his nose busted by yet another bully the day before school photos, or how he had embarrassed his little sisters by trick or treating with them while dressed as Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz.

He had just glossed over the hardships and worries, they had been worried enough in there without adding depressing stories to it. Besides which, he had never really wanted to hammer in how poor the Barnes and Rogers families were, in case Tony had thought he was angling for a handout if they ever got out.

Things fell silent for a while, and after a few hours a man in full dress uniform with a general's stripes entered and sat down next to Tony's bed.

"Mr. Stark, good to see you awake and getting better. I'm here to discuss some delicate details of the situation with you. I'm sure you understand that military intelligence is a classified business, and so there as aspects to your confinement that would be better kept out of the public eye. Of course we're happy for you to talk about being rescued, or some of the conditions you were kept in, but details of the weaponry, names of any of the insurgents or other prisoners, and exact locations should be kept quiet. I'm sure, as the head of a large company with corporate secrets to keep, you understand our need for discretion."

Tony let the man talk. He had finally gotten a good meal (cheeseburgers and a chocolate shake) and he was feeling more human. Human enough that he could actually appreciate what was being told to him, even if he didn’t agree. “Our if curiosity, what would happen if the world knew Sargent Barnes was a hero who saved my life and kept me alive for four months while you guys gave up on us? And I’m only asking this as a private citizen.”

Because there was nothing that the army could hold over him except deny him any future contracts.

“What you should come to me as is a business man yourself. We both have something the other needs. I need you to discharge James Barnes honorably and will fill military rank and privilege. And you need me not to be a huge dick. Get what I’m saying?”

"I'm afraid the situation with Sergeant Barnes is a more complex one, and is something that will be discussed privately with him."

Which means that they're not prepared to admit that they found an arm and a large pool of blood, and wrote him off as dead without even bothering to look for him. That reflected badly on them, especially if that soldier had then distinguished himself with exceptional bravery in the face of capture. Twice.

Damn it all.

"Please be reasonable, Mr. Stark. I'm sure you understand that these are delicate times for the USA, with threats of terror and war overseas, the people need to believe in their military and support us. Something damaging to morale will only hurt us all."

Tony lightly cocked an eyebrow upward. “So it’s better PR for you to bury this story than to make Barnes your poster child for all things great about the military? He’s not that guy that went AWOL and turned up as a POW seven months later. So you wrote him off as dead? Fine. This is a god damned redemption story.” The Officer didn’t look convinced. “Then don’t mention my part in it. The joint military spent the last few months hunting for us. You found us while we were forced to conduct a missile test. That’s all. It’s a feel good story and you guys can have your double win.”

It didn’t make a lick of sense to him why the hell Barnes would have to take this fall to save face.

“All it takes is one leak. One conspiracy theory. I thought you guys were smarter than that. Now get me a phone. And get whatever lie you want to tell ready before you pay this man for his sacrifice. Money and a ticket tape parade. You like parades, Barnes?”

The officer ground his teeth for a moment before smiling in a way that was much more like a grimace, but he really really wanted some of that sweet Stark Industries cash.

"...if you'll excuse me for a while, gentlemen, it appears I need to have a talk with my colleagues to see if there's a way that we can move forward to our mutual benefit."

Which meant that Tony was being damn difficult over one stupid soldier, but he needed to be coddled somewhat because they wanted a donation. Bucky just snorted and half rolled over to stare at them both.

"I don't need a parade, I just want to be acknowledged as alive."

“Have you ever been in a parade?” Tony asked, feeling exhausted, eyes barely open. “Because neither have I and I want to be.” Really, he just wanted to make sure that the Army gave Bucky what he deserved. He wanted to make sure that they understood that embarrassment would mean keeping s hero dead instead of alive and on his road to recovery.

They were always so short sighted. Men in charge tended to be. The Army had a PR team for a reason. They could spin this to their own desires easily enough.

Especially if they wanted an edge with Stark Industries. Too bad they didn’t know that Tony was taking his company out of the weapons business.

It was a good job that the army didn't know that Tony planned to be out of the weapons industry, or they would be doing this in a whole different way with threats instead of trying to butter him up. It was only because they hoped for a large contract with him, and a substantial donation, that the PR team was eventually convinced that they could spin James Barnes' story into something that would work for them.

Hero soldier survives against all odds and protects American citizen, they'd have him do press tours and give him a good pension and a medal, make him a poster boy. Gloss over the mistake as much as possible, maybe even have him issue a statement about how he would have made the same call in their place.

It was early the following morning when a sharp-eyed young woman came back into the room with a smile that didn't reach her eyes and a set of contracts in hand.

"Good morning, gentleman. Mr. Stark, Sergeant Barnes, I'll just need both of you to read and sign these documents."

Bucky rolled his eyes and took his, giving it a cursory scan before looking up in surprise. "The hell? Is this a joke? Medals? Promotional tour?"

“Pension,” Tony remarked, with a smirk. That was for him, because it was hard to buy someone who was rich. The documents made him laugh, but he didn’t ask for legal to be brought in to read the contract. Despite appearances, he was pretty savvy when it came to contract law.

He didn’t just dole out responsibility. He strove to understand it too.

“Pretty good, Barnes.” He’d wait until Bucky took a look at it before he put his name to the paper but he knew Bucky was going to sign. Who wouldn’t in this case? It set his family up for life and he didn’t have to be dead.

He might have to do some traveling and write a book or produce a podcast but that would all be gravy.

He didn't think that they'd really want him for tv interviews and book deals, not when they realised how broken his brain was after all of this. But he signed it anyway, not because it came with a fucking purple heart (they were really going all in on this hero angle now they'd decided that, huh?) or because it came with parades, but because it came with a full pension that he could use to support his family and it meant he didn't have to live in secret.

So he scribbled his name and then held his hand out with a hard frown.

"Now give me a goddamn phone. Please."

He gave Tony a tiny smile when he finally got a phone given to him, but then all of his attention went on dialling Steve's number. He had no idea what might greet him on the other end, they'd probably had a damn funeral for him months ago. He couldn't imagine losing Steve, and Steve had no idea that he hadn't really lost Bucky.

Jesus, this was going to be a mess.

Steve was just coming up from the subway when the phone rang in his pocket. With his hands full, and his lungs feeling like they were going to give out thanks to the escalator being down, he nearly let it go to voice mail. Instead, he threaded his arms through his bags and tucked his cheap, street coffee against his chest to free one hand for the phone.

"Rogers," Steve said, mostly because he was sure this was either a telemarketer or someone from collections. He was bracing himself for the latter, hoping for the former.

Instead, there was just silence. That was strange. He pulled the phone from his head and glanced at the number. He recognized the area code as California, but only because of a show he liked to watch on TV from time to time while he was painting. Telemarketer, he assumed, and tried one more time. "Uh. Hello? Anyone?"

All it would take would be the sound of Bucky's voice to cause him to drop his coffee. All this time, he never forgot it. He heard it say snarky things to him all the time, in the back of his head anyway. He talked to it. It answered. Maybe he was going completely insane now, though, since he was losing his grip on reality.

"B-Bucky?"

Jesus, hearing Steve's voice was like getting sucker punched right in the gut.

For a few moments he couldn't do anything other than try and swallow the sudden lump that had formed in his throat, but knowing that Steve was on the other end of this line probably wondering if someone was playing a really poor taste prank on him was what made him actually speak.

"Hey pal."

Great, good start.

"So, uh-- you probably figured this out, but I'm not dead. Obviously. Jesus, this is already a mess. Sorry."

"You're such an asshole!" Screaming this in the middle of the sidewalk in New York? Not really a problem. Just about everyone ignored him and walked around him. It wasn't his finest moment, though, even if he felt vindicated to be yelling in the first place. "You've been dead for five months-- I'm going to kill you again!"

Those last words were a mix of tears and laughter. Steve sat back against the wall separating the sidewalk and the subway entry like he was homeless -- and let's face it, several times in his life he had been, so he had some real cred doing this. He was going to start bawling any second now, real, honest to God wailing, if someone didn't stop him.

"I-I said some really nice stuff about you, you damned bastard."

Tony could probably hear everything, given how hard Steve was yelling, and Bucky was about to embarrass himself too by sobbing on his end of the phone. His voice got more gravelly with trying to hold tears back, and he was holding the phone so tightly that his knuckles were white.

"Yeah? Then you can take it all back, Steve, because I swear I never meant to put any of you through this. I got-- caught."

Such a sanitised word for what they went through, but he doesn't want the horrors of their experiences to taint the people he cares about.

"But I'm out now, and you'll never guess who saved my life by signalling the army, huh? It was Tony Stark, you know, the guy who's building you've protested outside of about twenty times."

“Again?!” Steve isn’t usually prone to hysterics, but you take enough people from his life, including one whose friendship was always based on teasing and rubbing and general jerkiness and you get this reaction. “You’re so bad at being a soldier. So. Bad. You’re done. Come home. Where are you? I’m coming to get you.”

He was adamant about the whole thing too, though he was also openly sobbing and feeling foolish the whole time.

“And you’re in with Stark? Jesus Buck. Jesus. That stink is never coming off.” Tony couldn’t really understand any of that of course. Steve was too broken to get the words out.

He did turn his eyes away, though. This was a private moment.

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Should never had said it was quiet. HA

you jinxed yourself! fool!

I did. Dumb dumb dumb

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