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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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.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, looking sort of confused.

"You met Lizzie when you were in hospital? I didn't know that, she didn't say. Sorry if she was pestering you, she's-- she's a really bright kid, but she can be a bit much sometimes."

Although then what the rest of Tony said caught up with him and his other eyebrow joined the first up in his hairline in surprise.

"We're not moving in with you, we've got our own places. But if you don't like your folks old house then sell it, move in somewhere else, nobody says you have to stay there."

"Yeah, can't sell it." He didn't want to talk about his encounter with the youngest Barnes for some reason. That she hadn't told anyone gave her huge marks in his book. She could be tough and loyal and-- You didn't see that in adults, let alone kids. Tony liked that. "And I'm not exactly made of money. I don't bleed hundred dollar bills. Why aren't you moving in?"

Bucky was direct so Tony was just going to be direct right back, lips pressed together in an exaggerated grimace.

"Can't say I'm running away if you literally live with me."

"Don't give me that, Tony, you might as well bleed hundred dollar bills. If you wanted to get yourself a new place in New York, even without selling the one in Long Island, you know you could."

He was pretty sure that Tony could buy most of Brooklyn for himself, let alone not afford one extra house. But if Tony wanted to torture himself by living in his folk's old home, then that was his business.

"And I'm not living with you, that just gives you more excuse to hide inside. At least you have to venture into the outside world to meet me if I'm not right there."

"So that's not going to work for me," Tony said immediately. He felt better with Bucky simply being here. He wasn't going to mess with that dynamic. "If it's got to be Brooklyn, then you and the girls will have to move in with me there. It's going to be a brown stone. It's going to be bourgie. There will be a massive oil painting of someone no one remembers hanging up in the foyer."

If he stacked enough crazy into the request, by the time that they whittled it down, there would a better compromise for him.

Namely? Bucky would stay with him.

He didn't think that would keep him inside more, though. He still would be back and forth to California.

For just a moment or two Bucky appraised Tony silently, weighing him in a way that most people didn't bother to do when faced with Tony's mad demands. Maybe because he understood Tony, he had come to know him intimately and he knew that these demands were usually a mask for things he truly wanted or needed.

And apparently he really needed Tony living with him.

"Okay... I'm willing to talk about it, but it's gonna take some working out because me and the girls, and Steve, are gonna want to help out with rent and stuff. But maybe we could find a way to make it all work. No weird bourgie painting, though."

There. See? Throw in one crazy painting and you get what you want. "Rent..?" That sounded dumb. Rent wasn't a word that Tony ever used. It felt weird in his mouth and on his tongue. "Or. And hear me out here. You stop thinking of this as charity and more of a favor to me."

Bucky had a way of making him reveal his hand. Why? Had the guy been paying that much attention? Did he actually remember...?

"You can go house hunting for me. And put whatever rent you think you're going to pay me into college funds for the girls. Especially that runt. She's got a mouth that will probably get her expelled a few times."

Was he smiling? Yeah he was. Tony didn't like kids, as a general rule, but she was different. Annoying, but still different.

"Four of you. One of your bestie. Something with at least four floors and an elevator. Top floor is mine. I don't want monthly protests from the people downstairs because I'm using palm oil."

Tony wasn't so sure that Becca and Steve, especially Steve, would understand that this really was a favour for Tony in the same way that Bucky sort of did. They were very proud people and would hate the idea of charity, Steve would detest feeling indebted to someone like Tony.

Somehow Bucky imagined a tough time convincing everyone this was a good idea.

"You're kidding, right? You want somewhere with four floors and an elevator, just for five people? Me and the girls lived in a two bed apartment at one point, with Steve on the couch, we don't need so much space."

This was quickly getting out of hand.

"And you're gonna have to tell me what you and Lizzie talked about to make you care about her getting a college fund."

"You're seriously going to make me Zillow this stuff aren't you? I'll send Pepper. If your older siblings want to stay in their house, that's fine with me too." It's not like he wanted Rogers around. Quite. The. Opposite. The ones in college could probably stand to get their own places. That would make life easier.

Tony would still isolate himself away from a gaggle of Barnes Family Values but Bucky would be there. On hand. On call. That might be all Tony really needed to feel safe again.

That, or he could work on building himself a suit of armor, but that seemed excessive, honestly.

"Your sister just wants an internship. That's all. If I don't give her one, she'll be hustling poker by the time she's five." He had no idea how old she was. Kids tended to all look the same.

"...she's ten, Tony."

Five. Jesus. The man really hadn't spent any time around children, had he? Perhaps time with the Barnes clan would be good for him, make him feel more like part of a real family who loved one another. Not people who only cared about one another for their money, connections, or achievements.

"But fine, fine. I'll have to talk it over with them before I can give you an official okay, but I'll do my best."

He wanted to stay with Tony, but he wasn't going to cast aside his family and choose one over the other.

Family wasn't a word that Tony liked. It wasn't a word that Tony found even remotely useful. He would have wrinkled his nose in disdain at Bucky if the guy happened to open his mouth. It was bad enough that he was attempting to use the term Brother when talking about him.

No... Thank... You.

"Okay. Talk. I'll fly out and see some properties." Brooklyn was a notoriously difficult place to find housing in. The Barnes family happened to have done fairly well in a rent controlled apartment, but with the whole place converted factories and tenements, Tony's dollar wasn't going to stretch too far. Then again, he had connections.

There was bound to be a few story Brownstone waiting around to be sold to him.

"How long as you here for, Barnes?"

"I reckon I can push it to a week, tops, before Steve literally kidnaps me and drags me onto a train."

He knew that taking a train to New York from California was a very long journey, unlike the few hours by plane, but he'd requested to go that way. Something about the change in air pressure, and being trapped in a thin metal tube, no longer sat well with him after all he'd been through.

"You know, I really did tell him off for coming after you that way. I asked him to wait til you were out of hospital, but Steve's kind of stubborn and his heart rules his head a lot of the time. He is a good guy, though, honest."

"Different strokes," was all that Tony could honestly say. He didn't think that Rogers was an acquired taste, he didn't think he was anyone's taste at all, but obviously Bucky liked him and Tony wasn't in the business of dictating who other people got to hang out with.

He could even swallow a lot of unpleasantness until his idiosyncrasies caught up to him.

"It's fine. I got the feeling that most of your people don't do well with instruction. Don't know how you got promoted to Sergeant actually."

"Because I'm really good with a gun."

Or maybe because he used to be, he's not sure any more, whether losing his arm might have affected how he holds his body and therefore how he aims. But then again, he didn't expect to ever have to use a gun again, so who the hell cared?

He pushed to his feet only to flop down almost on top of Tony and fling his remaining arm around his friend's shoulders, tugging him in for a hug whether he wanted to or not.

"You'll have years to come around to them all, Tony, just give them a chance, okay?"

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