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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"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?"

Oh, he wanted it. It had been the first time that he allowed someone to touch him in a month. Pepper tried to hug him once after rushing in when he was having a night terror and, though he hated to admit it, he shrieked and fell out of bed.

He knew Bucky. Everyone else was pain. So much pain.

Tony shifted so that the other man was better against him, pressing into the gap between arm and chest, and draped one leg over the arm of the couch. His hand reached out so fingers could wrap around Bucky’s wrist, lightly, without a holding pressure.

“Hm.” His face contorted. “There’s not a lot I wouldn’t do for you. You suck.”

Bucky would understand if Tony told him about that. He'd always been fairly tactile with the people he loved, and he still was, but only on his terms. He couldn't stand people coming up on him from his left now, it felt too vulnerable without an arm there to defend himself, and if he wasn't prepared for a touch then he could lash out. He'd already given Steve a bloody nose once.

Thank God Steve was used to getting a bloody nose.

"You don't mean that, pal, you love me really. And you already like Lizzie, so that's one down, you just have to not hide on your 'floor' or whatever the hell you end up getting to live in."

“I can do what I want. It’s my floor,” Tony groused but didn’t really mean it. He wasn’t going to stay hidden in his palace, not when Bucky was roaming beneath him somewhere. He would just have to make more strategic appearances if that combative blond was going to be there too.

Tony didn’t want to give anyone a bloody nose but he felt like Steve Rogers’ nose was sort of a magnet for fists. He was just that infuriating. Bucky probably had to spend their entire youth trying to keep the kid out of danger.

He would have to ask about it sometime.

You know. When he decided to care.

Tony tilted his head back against Bucky’s shoulder, lightly flexing his foot at the ankle over the armrest. “And I need peace and quiet. I’m working on my next breakthrough.”

It felt comfortable to have Tony nestled against him. Tony had been the one presence amongst the terror and the pain that had been on his side, the one that helped him rather than hurt him more, and so he was intrinsically a place of safety in the way that nobody else was. Steve and the girls, he loved them dearly, but he'd have to learn to trust them in his personal space again.

It's probably one of the reasons why Steve had been so pissy about Tony, and so unwilling to even try. He had never been second fiddle with Bucky for anything before, it had to be weird to see that happening now.

"Yeah? What kind of breakthrough, do I need to start taking cover now, or do I have some time?"

“Uh, thought I’d dabble in robotics,” replied the man who revolutionized the industry. “Something with more autonomy. Sentient vacuum cleaners, learning television sets. Implant prosthetics. All the things a crazed mad scientist might want under his belt before he hit his mid forties.”

He’d already improved the AI inside of a Roomba so it could scan a space and detect dirt rather than just map every square foot of a room and make note to cover every inch. And he’d improved the AI of a television too so that it learned not to play those sad child and animal commercials and would change the channel whenever a commercial came on and change back just before the show started again. Limbs, though; were harder.

Mostly because he had all of his and trying to get his brain to control a third arm was incredibly difficult, even when he set it up to mirror his left arm rather than act as a tertiary limb.

“You probably have a few months before any of them gain the ability to Skynet us.”

"Prosthetic limbs, huh?"

Bucky wasn't as much of a moron as he appeared, and he could appear to be quite the moron when next to the dizzying intellect of a bona fida genius. Tony had never been interested in artificial limbs before, despite what other robotics work he might have been doing, and he doubted it was a coincidence now.

"So if I guinea pig one of those for you down the line, is it going to turn out to be evil? Like it'll want to kill people and I'll have to end up in a battle royale to destroy it before it destroys me? Because I've gotta tell you, I've seen that movie and it doesn't end well."

Tony was immediately surprised when he heard Bucky’s answer. He’d expected some sort of anger or disappointment, some of that tough guy, I don’t need your help attitude. It was why he had buried the truth in with the (somewhat) exaggeration. Instead, he was just ribbing him about it. He hadn’t closed himself off and Tony felt his fingers close a little more tightly around his wrist in gratitude.

This was comfortable. He could almost sleep again, it felt so inviting and warm. He didn’t want Bucky to shun him, suddenly. But that wasn’t going to happen.

Maybe he should have known that too. They were too connected now. Even if Tony had gone practically into hiding in an effort to protect himself.

“Real life isn’t like the movies. Robots can’t be inherently evil. They just follow programming. So... fifty-fifty chance. I’m willing to put our lives on the line for those odds.”

Bucky had learned in that horrible place that relying on people sometimes was just necessary and pride be damned, and he really wanted a new arm. If anyone could give him back a sense of normalcy, and not just a dead piece of plastic to fill a sleeve, then it had to be Tony.

"I swear, Tony, if you program a robot arm to kill things, then I'm going to let it throttle you before I shut it down. That's poetic justice, right? The creation kills the creator."

He wriggled a bit to get more comfortable with Tony's weight against him, sighing softly.

"You need a janitor or something while you're working on miracles? I'm kinda unemployed now."

A soft chuckle answered Bucky’s warning. Tony had never been one for being the little spoon before, and he was not a cuddle on the couch person, but this was relaxing, this felt good. He could already feel himself slipping out of consciousness and rather than fight it, he just let himself go.

Several hours passed before he stirred, and that was only because JARVIS had been told to message Tony about having something to eat. Pepper had been on him like a hawk, though he tended to blow her off. She was just an employee, not someone that could completely boss him around and they both knew it. Still, the need to relief himself and stretch came with the sudden return to consciousness and if Bucky managed to stay asleep through all of that, he’d wake up a bit later to Tony doing some tinkering on a metal, beautifully crafted arm thrown over his lap, some salad and sandwiches wrapped up on the table across from them.

Bucky remained asleep throughout the whole time. He hadn't slept much in months, not during their ordeal and certainly not after, so his body was clinging to the chance as much as possible before his brain ruined it for them again. When he did eventually open his eyes, mouth feeling like it was full of sandpaper, he stretched like a cat.

"Tony? What are you--"

And then he caught sight of it.

His mouth fell open in a way that was probably very gratifying for the inventor and his eyes went wide. That-- that wasn't just a prosthetic, that was like something out of science fiction. There was no way it was functional, was there?

“Probably not going to work as intended right away so don’t give me that worshipful look just yet,” Tony said without actually glancing in Bucky’s direction. He had a screwdriver in one hand and was making the fingers of the arm curl inward in sequence. They weren’t as fluid as he would like. The wrist was much better.

Smaller servos? Maybe he’d have to manufacture his own ballbearings?

“Want to try it on?” Now he was looking directly at Bucky, leaning over to set the screw driver on top of one of the plastic containers of salads. “It’s not an elegant entry system yet. I’ll fit with with a topical neural net for your head—. The arm at least is pretty light. Carbon nanotubing.”

"Slow down, pal, you might as well have just said all of that in Klingon, I've no idea what you're talking about."

He was kind of nervous. Awestruck, yes, but also frightened. He didn't want to have something strapped to him that he didn't understand, no matter how much he trusted Tony to be on his side.

"What the hell is a topical neural net?"

It sounded like weird fishing equipment.

“Kling— You’re such a nerd. Wow. No. It’s like a lunch lady hair let that can read the electrical movements of your brain and translate that to the motorized function in the arm so it will move the way you want it to.” Tony acted as if that explanation was any less nerdy, scoffing at the weird cultural reference. Was Bucky even old enough to know what the Real Star Trek was? Doubtful.

He hoisted himself off of the couch and dropped the surprisingly light arm into Bucky’s lap.

“Eventually, this would become part of you. The net can be implanted under the skin. The arm will rotate into a socket in your shoulder— I’ve always wanted a cyborg friend.”

It didn’t really occur to him that his words could be so frightening. That said, he still tried to handwave away the medical issues that would come if Bucky wanted the limb to be permanent.

“For right now, you get a hair net and a sling. As long as you’re not trying to lift anything too heavy for the sling, should work decently enough. I can eat soup with it. Barely any third degree burns.”

Bucky recoiled back slightly, mind already whirring on how he could phrase this without upsetting Tony who could be pretty damn sensitive if he thought that a gift was being snubbed. Because the arm was amazing, it really goddamn was, he was just... he was scared about more medical procedures, or having something attached to him, or-- all of this crap.

"Uh-- okay, we can try it."

He scrubbed his hand through his hair, brow furrowed.

"But I can take it off if it freaks me out, right?"

Hopefully that would be okay. It was an admission of Bucky's vulnerabilities, rather than an attack on Tony and his generous gift.

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