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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Steve Rogers was pushing it. Tony wasn’t the sort of person to give into heckling but he’d been out of the game for a long time now. He fell out of practice. And the fact that this kid was pushing a guilt he’d always had was getting to be a little more than he could handle.

“Displays of force keep us safe. Keep people like Barnes safe. Our enemies have this technology. They have bombs that can wipe us all out. You’re too naive, kid, if you think that stopping to run in the arms race will make the whole thing stop. It won’t. Now stop being a little shit with a chip on his shoulder. This guy here laid down his safety in service for this country. All you do is spout half baked facts that won’t do a god damned—“ Tony’s heart monitor started to beep furiously, sweat pouring down his face, and he leaned over Bucky, bracing himself on the bed rail.

Steve glared at Stark even as he leaned over the bed and started to sweat, he didn't want to give the guy a heart attack but he figured if the beeping got to a dangerous level then it would alert a nurse with an alarm and someone would come to help him. Besides, he had nothing but contempt for that kind of answer.

"I understand the need for a military and for weapons to keep us safe, but I don't understand people like you. You didn't just match the technology others had, you went out of your way to improve it. You were proud of being the best, and every person you killed just got you an extra few dollars to add to it all. You're not someone forced to take part in the arms race, you are the arms race, and you disgust me."

“Military technology sells. And gets the headlines,” Tony continued, but he knew he really should back off. He felt on the verge of collapse but this little runt had gone so far to provoke him that he couldn’t let it go. Even when he really knew he should. “No one bothers to remember the irrigation systems or the communication technology or the earthquake protection for high rises I’ve developed.”

His smirk was sickly. His skin was growing pale and clammy.

“How about the billions of dollars donated to NASA when the government stopped most of their funding?” He could feel himself getting dizzier but he could be just as tenacious as Steve. “Or the rockets I developed from our weapons R&D department that got us our first good look at Pluto? So. Fucking tired. Of being... of being the bad guy,” he blurted out, very much unlike him. It was a wonder what stress and a failing heart could make a man do.

"Oh, boo hoo, nobody remembers the good stuff you've done with your money because of where that money came from. So you did some good things, you helped a few thousand people who might be able to afford your earthquake protection, but you helped them at the cost of other lives."

Steve crossed over to Tony and started to try and manhandle him back into a chair even as he kept talking, hands gentle even if his words weren't.

"If you're tired of being the bad guy, then don't be the bad guy any more, but you don't get to pretend it's all okay because you did other stuff as well. You killed people, you personally, nothing makes that okay. Not Pluto, not nothing."

You. Personally.

If Tony could, he might have hauled off and hit Steve in the mouth for that. Or maybe just for trying to touch him. He gave the blond a weird push with absolutely no strength behind it before a set of two nurses came jogging into the room, one with a wheelchair, to get him down and out of the room.

There wouldn’t be any more unsupervised walks next door. In fact, at Ms. Potts’ direction, due to stress and obvious post traumatic disorder, Tony would end up being moved to a more secluded section of the hospital. And just as well, he’d think to himself for almost four full hours of further isolation, until that isolation started to creep up on him. He was too weak to do any real work and his mind had a field day with thoughts of all of those people he’d killed.

Including every single one of the men and women who’d been trying to protect him.

Steve felt just slightly bad as Tony was rushed out of there by nurses, but not that bad because he hadn't said anything that wasn't true. Tony made sure to build the best weapons possible, even if it hadn't been his finger on the trigger when they were fired, it was still his personal responsibility for the people killed.

He waited until the following evening and then walked to Tony's new room, having got directions from the nurse, and let himself in without knocking since he was fairly sure that he would be refused if he asked.

"Hey."

Awkward.

"Bucky's gone down to surgery, I thought you'd want to know."

“Can’t talk now,” Tony muttered. “Got to build myself a Winchester mansion to keep the ghosts out.” Funny. It was only young activists that liked to blame inventors. But the makers of bullets and the developers of guns... It was only one crazy widow that ever thought her husband’s creation of a weapon was reason for guilt inducing demons to cause her to build a nightmare inducing home.

He didn’t look up at Steve. He had absolutely no intention of engaging. As Pepper Potts said, he needed to get better so he could get home.

And back to work. And back to being in an ivory tower.

“I’ll send a card and one of those little balloons on a plastic stick to make sure your friend feels better.” He wasn’t in a good place.

"Seriously?"

Any sympathy that Steve might have had dropped right away, and he came to scowl down at Stark. Jesus, this guy was behaving like a little kid rather than a man much older than him. Apparently money really did let people stay as immature as they wanted for as long as they wanted.

"Now you're going to act all pathetic because somebody dared to tell you the truth? That's not how you fix anything. You have to decide to be better, if you really want to be better, and earn people's respect. If you want to not be a bad guy, then be better from now on, but sulking isn't going to get you anywhere."

Tony smirked, finally looking over at Steve. He had a lovely view from his window but there was only so much that could teach him.

“I’m staying civil because Barnes asked me to. But I think I understand why he did. He cares about you. But I’m guessing that’s a one off or a fluke. And I bet he has to tell his other friends the same thing when it comes to you. You need to learn from diplomacy. And you need to educate yourself. You’re not the first or the last kid that’s going to tell me that they know best. Stay in school. Take some policy and business classes. If you want to make a difference, do something worth while that doesn’t involve talking to CEOs.”

There was nothing around him to focus on. He’d asked Pepper to put the documents away because he couldn’t concentrate on them.

“I owe Barnes a lot of things. But putting up with you isn’t one of them. You and his family can stay here as long as you want. But— Yo, Happy, come in here and do your job. What do I even pay you for?”

Happy poked his head in the door and raised an eyebrow. "I'm paid to protect you, and I'm pretty sure you're not in any physical danger here. Besides which, Ms. Potts said to let anyone from Mr. Barnes' party in here."

Mainly because Pepper was a very intelligent woman and had already figured out how much Bucky meant to Tony, and she intended to foster that as much as possible. Her boss was way too isolated too much of the time, and surrounded by people who wouldn't call him out when he needed it.

"Sorry, boss, but I'm not going against what Ms. Potts has ordered."

“Okay, then you’re fired and I’ll find someone else.” It didn’t matter if he was isolated. Steve had already pushed him towards a depression he’d had most of his adult life, and combined with what he had been through (and no one here who could ever understand save for the guy currently under the knife), it was going to cause him to do something irrational. He knew his mind well enough to accept and understand that.

After fifteen years of service, Happy wasn’t about to let anyone take his position away from him. Tony looked angry. Agitated. And Steve would be taken out of the room by himself or by hospital security. All parties would probably prefer if he did it, though he would apologize profusely to both Steve and Tony, separately of course.

Tony didn’t want to hear it.

“We’re going home.” It was less than ten miles away, up the coast, to his mansion in Malibu. He couldn’t stomach hospitals anymore.

Tony withdrew. From Pepper. From Happy. From everyone.

And Steve knew he’d probably messed up. People told him to let it go until everyone was at least on their feet again, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t because he couldn’t understand why Bucky liked such a monster. He might never understand. And it probably was for the best that he send Stark away. His friend needed his family. Not a monster.

Both Pepper and Happy tried to get Tony to come out from his mansion using a variety of techniques, from bullying him about the state of the company to trying to bribe him with a wild party, but nothing worked. Even poor Obi ended up being refused, which... was worrying for him, because he needed to get Tony back on track, or else finish him off properly.

He would be left alone for almost a month.

A full month of silence, just opulent surroundings, a beautiful view, and whatever he chose to do to entertain himself. The only changes were the occasional phone calls and doorbell rings from his concerned employees and friends. But one day, one month and two days since he discharged himself, JARVIS indicated a new person at the door.

"Sir, a Sergeant James Barnes is requesting access."

"Ha-ha," Tony said out loud, seated on the floor, tinkering with some automation he'd been messing with for who knew how long at this point. Days and months had just flown right by, and he'd done the bare minimum to keep up his end of the bargain.

He didn't need to go out. He needed access to a computer and email and the occasional phone conference. Pepper collected his signatures and brought him news about how Barnes was doing. He'd even watched a little snippet of an interview a few days before, and it was good to see that Bucky looked healthy.

Healthier than Tony remembered ever seeing him save on the flight to the demonstration zone. It felt like forever ago rather than less than half a year.

"Tell me who it actually is." His voice command butler didn't really work like that, though. The AI was more advanced than Amazon's Alexa or Apple's Siri, but doing more than answering questions was beyond it.

"I'm afraid I don't understand, sir."

"Who is at the door," Tony half barked, and JARVIS replied as he had before. That gave him pause and he stood, black tank top and soft grey joggers all he was wearing. His eyebrow arched. "Okay... JARVIS, tell Happy to let him in."

Bucky did look better than he had before, his hair had grown out during their capture and time in hospital and he hadn't bothered to have it cut short again, but it was now washed and healthy rather than a greasy mess around his face. The surgeons had taken some more of his arm, even right up to the shoulder socket, so he didn't even have a stump left, but it was healing up much better now.

There was only a few moments of silence before Bucky came striding into the room, expression half angry and half concerned. He had been pretty mad when he woke up after that surgery and found out that Tony had run away, mad at Steve for yelling at his friend and mad at Tony for cutting him out as well.

"Thought you agreed that you wouldn't make me have to fight to be your friend," he muttered, coming and sitting in a chair near Tony without asking for permission.

"Oh, did I miss some major boxing match?" Tony didn't mean to be immediately aggressive about it. He didn't mean to jump down Bucky's throat. It was good to see him. Relief flooded through him with a shocking precision, targeted almost. It was amazing, that just seeing someone could do that to him.

He didn't ask why Bucky was still in California. He'd made sure the man's bank accounts were flooded, through the military or through his own funds if the military crapped out on him. He left the rooms at the hotel he'd put Bucky's family at stay open indefinitely.

He didn't know what more he could have done, other that try to reclaim his own humanity. That was hard to do when he couldn't sleep.

"Is that a new shampoo that you're using?"

Bucky's gaze flicked up to Tony and there was something quietly betrayed and sad in that look. He really had meant what he said before, that he'd had enough of fighting and he didn't want this to become another fight between him and Tony, with Tony trying to pull away from him with all his might.

"...fuck the shampoo, Tony, I'm mad at you. What the hell? I thought we were friends, I thought you had more regard for me than to make me chase you down, and disappear like I'm just gonna forget you."

Come on, man, don't be a jerk.

"I told Steve he shouldn't have said that stuff to you, but you shouldn't have run away either. I was scared when I woke up, and you'd just run out on me. Asshole."

Tony’s eyebrows furrowed and he opened and shut his mouth. He hated it when people thought that they knew a situation, that they had all of the facts.

“You don’t have to track me down. I’m not in hiding.” Except he was. It had nothing to do with Steve Rogers, however. Without Bucky, he just couldn’t deal with everything the world threw at him. It was better to stay here, to work through what he needed to work through. “My number is published. The hospital staff could have given it to you. Or the hotel staff where your family is staying—“

He let himself get mad too, because it felt pretty good.

“If you’re just here to yell at me, you can join the line. And have a little ‘fuck you’ for thinking my recovery is based on some teenager thinking he knows anything about it. Your friend can say whatever he wants. I’ve heard worse.”

“No, stop.”

Bucky didn’t shout it, his voice was just firm with a ring of disappointment through it. He was hearing a whole lot of bullshit here and it was already driving him crazy.

“You don’t get to tell me that you didn’t run away and you’re not hiding, I know you better than that. I know you, so don’t lie to me. I woke up and I was fucking terrified because you weren’t there, it took them nearly three hours to convince me that I wasn’t still in that hole of a place and dreaming I was out. I thought we were gonna be there for each other, like real friends, and I was ready to be there for you. Hell, I still am.”

So quit making it harder on him. Jerkwad.

“And we are gonna be here for each other. Just. Not there for each other.” It was the lamest excuse ever. Tony just didn’t want to say that he was having the worst time imaginable trying to cope with being on the outside again. No one understood and thanks to having open heart surgery, alcohol would more or less kill him dead. There wasn’t even that to fall back on.

So he did what he tended to when the going got bad. He holed himself up. The last time he’d done this was when his parents died. Not a super healthy way to spend his early twenties but he’d gotten himself out of it.

With time. And patience.

And alcohol. And work. Work has more or less consumed his life. He had a great deal to show for it too. It just wasn’t ready yet to get back in touch with Bucky but— Well he was here. The waiting ship had sunken.

“Want dinner? I’m thinking something heart healthy like a quarter pounder with cheese and fried onions.”

Tony was an idiot if he thought nobody understood. Bucky understood, he had been there too, he knew how overwhelming and difficult being out was. Not only Bucky, but there were countless other people in support groups across the country that had been through similar, so Bucky wasn't buying any of this as an excuse.

Bucky swallowed hard, and then stood back up looking genuinely hurt. Which he was. He knew Tony could be difficult, but this was some next level shit, and it wasn't fair to expect him to do all the work.

"Fine. You want to "be there without being there", wish you'd told me sooner. Come on, Tony, don't do this, don't make me have to always be the one fighting. Be honest with someone once in your goddamn life, the world isn't gonna end if you admit you need people."

Tony rolled his eyes. He’d just asked the guy to stay for dinner, a clear sign that he wanted him present he thought, but he was too self destructive to say it in those simple phrases.

Though he knew Bucky could understand what he was going through, better than anyone, he had such a strong support system. He had a truly loving family, the littlest ready to wheel and deal for him.

It was crazy. Tony didn’t feel comfortable with that. He felt so Other that he might as well be in an anthropology novel from the 1920s.

But Bucky was persistent. And Tony was feeling grateful that the man was even here. Letting him go wasn’t an option. “Listen. You know I need you.”

"Yeah, I know, but what you're not seeming to get is that I need you too."

Bucky's voice has lost its frustrated edge, at least, though he still looks tired when he sits back down again and fixes Tony with an intense stare.

"That's why you can't go running off on your own like that, because you're not the only one who needs someone to be strong. I need it to, and I need it to be you, before you give me crap about having Steve and the girls. They don't get it, and I don't want them to get it, they shouldn't have to know what going through all of that stuff is like. You and me, Tony, we're brothers now, so the next time you try and run out on me, I'll treat you like a dumb little brother and give you a noogie."

He leans back and sighs, heavy and loud.

"Now bring on those burgers, I'm starving."

A few words to relay their order, and then a few more words to yell at Ms. Potts through the speaker system over their order, was all it would take. She couldn’t be too mad at him. He mostly ate well and this was special company. Tony was never great at entertaining, he most got drunk and let the caterers and his assistants clean up for him, but he could serve up some burgers without it getting too deep.

Tony wanted to know what Bucky has been up to, more than his interviews would suggest, but he did a lot of quiet staring instead and pressed his lips together until their food arrived, still wrapped from In and Out Burger and served on China.

Fancy.

“Where’s the rest of the Barnes clan?” Not what he planned to ask but he kept expecting that little blond to jump out at him.

"The girls have gone back home, they have school and college, they can't afford to take any more time off. Steve should be there too, but he insisted on staying with me, I think he thinks I'm never going back to New York if he doesn't strong-arm me into it."

He shrugs, he knows that Steve isn't too happy about Bucky coming here today. He seems to think his friendship with Tony is some kind of Stockholm Syndrome, and that Tony is going to lead him further into ruin. But sometimes Steve was wrong, and in this case he wasn't going to bully Bucky into changing with a few huffs and some worried glances.

"Figured I'd know better when I was heading back to Brooklyn, when I knew if you were heading back to New York too?"

“I live here,” Tony said, maybe a little too quickly. “My dad and mom have a house in Long Island but it’s not really my speed.” All of the rich and famous had mansions on Long Island. It was what the gentrified Brooklynites all dreamed their retirements would look like.

So Tony was still being difficult and he had the good sense to know it at least, because he sighed and frowned at Bucky.

“Shit. Guess I get to sleep in my old room again huh? Your little sister is probably going to insist on the master. She runs a hard bargain.”

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