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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“Braiding is non negotiable and price for room and board for the evening,” Tony said, not glancing over at Bucky, even when Happy made a sort of weird squeaking sound.

“See what you mean, Boss. Should be an hour in traffic. Will be right back,” Happy said, sizing Bucky up without asking him his sizes. He was paid to notice things and he was not going to ask what size Bucky wore in front of the guy that paid him, jeez!

Hands on his hips, Tony pretended that Bucky’s strange ensemble was normal and led him out into an insane, beautiful and modern kitchen with two separate stainless steel refrigerators. He popped open one to display not one, but two rows of Haagen Das pint containers.

“Got your favorite.” He has evidently been expecting his friend.

It was things like this that told Bucky how much Tony had been wanting company, even if he had done the ultimate in stupid things and run off to hide away. He really needed to take Tony in hand and teach him how to ask for help, and how to trust that his friends really liked him.

"I see how it is, look at all that ice cream, you're jealous of my physique and so you're trying to get me fat."

It didn't stop him from grabbing a container of cherry ice cream and tugging the top off, only to be stymied by the peel off lid underneath. It was difficult to peel without a second hand to hold the carton steady.

"...damn it."

Tony needed a help in a whole lot of things and didn’t even know it. Admitting it would be another battle all together and though Bucky might be a trained soldier, he probably didn’t want to tackle all of Tony’s issues. Not without a lot of ammo and some body armor at least.

“I don’t think you’re the type to get fat. Your
Metabolism is too high. Me, on the other hand? Now that’s an uphill battle.” Bucky didn’t even have to curse for Tony to reach over and tear off the film. “You’ve got teeth yanno,” he simply had to point out. “Or are you worried that you won’t be able to attract future boyfriends if your teeth are shot? You’re more than a movie star smile, Barnes.”

He licked the film and then tossed it in the garbage and grabbed some pistachio. He just had a fondness of green food.

Bucky snorted and gripped the ice cream tub between his knees to start scooping the delicious cherry goodness out with a spoon. It was only a half amused snort, there was a layer of bitterness underneath it.

"Oh, sure, because I'm on the market now. A scarred up, fucked up, amputee with a boatload of issues is a catch that anyone would be glad to have."

It sucked, but he wasn't sure he saw himself dating at all for a long while, maybe not ever. He was too scared of dragging someone down with him, or even worse, of hurting them by accident when he lost control of reality.

“There’s someone for everyone. Even Ted Bundy got a girlfriend and you’re not a serial killer. Probably. Are you a serial killer?” He knew the answer to that and the questioning was ridiculous but Tony had to play up the jokes to feel better about the conversation. Even with Bucky. The guy had almost half a year of lessons on the mannerisms of Tony Stark to be able to see through it the way that Steve could and maybe never would. “If I can get dates, you can get dates.”

When was the last time he dated though? Evidently Bucky didn’t count at the hospital and Tony was trying to let that ship sale the best he could.

When was the last time he had sex even? A few days before he was captured? He didn’t want to bring that up.

Settled in what amounted to a study of sorts, eating ice cream from a stock kept in a giant freezer, and watching Bucky in his clothes, Tony found himself questioning his own line of conversation. It could get dangerous pretty quickly.

“Have your friend set you up with bleeding hear liberal arts types. You’re famous now.”

"Oh, sure, because what I really want is to have a boyfriend who sees me as a projects to make him feel better about his social justice warrior persona. I can deal with it from Steve, I know he's genuine and he really is just angry about all this shit and really is just that good of a person. But like hell I'm going to sleep with someone who sees me as a charity case."

Oops, that got a bit away from him.

"Look, it's fine. I've got enough to be worrying about without trying to get laid, so it's not a big deal. Even if there was-- someone-- I found attractive, I'm not so much of an asshole as to do that to them. And thanks a bunch, by the way, I've always wanted to be compared to a goddamn serial killer. Jerk."

“I’ve been called a jerk today twice by Brooklyn accents. That’s a new record,” Tony complained, halfway through his ice cream. He’d not eaten well in days, preoccupied with not sleeping and working on his project, so his body craved the calories and he couldn’t really blame it. “Even for me.”

Steve and Bucky really did talk the same but when people grew up together, movies and television told him, that sort of shit happened.

It was still weird to think about. Tony never had anyone like that.

“But to back up? You’re not a charity case. Opposite honestly. You’re a fucking hero. Which is also a big draw. And better than being a serial killer.” His eyebrows waggled a little before he unfolded one of his legs and unceremoniously dropped it in Bucky’s lap.

His couch. His rules.

"Shut up."

He was becoming seriously uncomfortable with being labelled a hero all the time, even though it had been the only way to get the military to declare him alive and give him a full pension as he deserved. He wasn't a hero, he had been a prisoner and that's it. Same as Tony.

"You should get it, Tony, you have nightmares and shit in your head too. You're some great survivor to the public, but would you bring someone into your personal life and make them have to deal with all that?"

He sighed, but he didn't try and dislodge Tony from where he was sitting.

"Just drop it."

“I’m just having a conversation. And you are my fucking hero. You’ve wiped my ass. I can say that.” Which wasn’t the sexiest thing in the world to admit, but it grounded the conversation.

One he didn’t want to let go of now that it had turned somewhat.

“I don’t sleep,” he admitted after another spoonful of ice cream. “I try not to sleep. I’ve never been good at it but now I have more reason to stay awake. It’s not about getting more work done. I know it’s not manly to admit it, but I can’t bring myself to crawl into my bed alone and I don’t need it getting out there on the internet. So I can’t have sleep overs either. Sort of ruining my sex life.”

It was pretty big of Tony to make an admission of vulnerability rather than deflect with some dumb joke, and Bucky appreciated it. He sort of had the opposite problem, sleeping next to someone would be a bad idea, but he got the loneliness.

"Is it sex you need, or just company?"

Because those are two massively different things.

He wasn't judging, he knew some people coped differently and needed the intimacy of sex in order to feel normal again. If Tony was one of those people, then they'd need to work on a way of getting him to a place where he can have one night stands or something similar. Company would be easier to manage, Bucky could just offer that himself.

Everyone needed sex. Tony wanted to say it was purely that, because that was how it had always been. He frowned at Bucky as if it was a trick question he didn’t know how to answer.

Dark eyes drifted from Bucky to the space above Bucky as if willing someone to come into the room. No one did. He could deflect but Tony knew Bucky smelled bullshit like sharks smelled blood in the water.

“Company. Company is easier to manage when sex is involved,” he reasoned.

"Well-- I'm asking because I can do company."

It wasn't an offer that he'd make to anyone else, save Steve, and only because he knew Tony wouldn't give him hell about it. It wouldn't be the first time they'd spooned anyway, they'd done it to keep warm on nights sometimes back in that cell. It would be different now, but no less out of a different sort of necessity.

"But I think you might have to keep looking elsewhere for sex, no offence. You're a handsome man, Tony, but I don't think that would end well."

Ouch. He’d known Bucky wasn’t interested. He’d been told before. That did not mean that Tony could shut off his feelings though.

“Youve told me twice now that I’m not your type,” he teased though he didn’t feel like teasing. At least he could handle rejection. Mostly. He didn’t get angry or upset. Not outwardly. It made him a little easier to handle, or so he thought. “And I usually go for leggy blonds that hate my guts— Shit. I should have invited your friend over.”

Okay, he could tell that he'd said the wrong thing, or that it had been taken in the wrong way, pretty much immediately. He wasn't a total idiot and Tony had a bunch of tells for when he was unhappy about something and trying to hide it.

"I said it wouldn't end well, but you're absolutely my type. But didn't you hear any of the stuff I said before about being a mess and not wanting to drag anyone down with me? Friendship is all I'm offering. To anyone. So don't take it so personal."

“Stop reading into my grousing like the world centers around you,” Tony immediately groused again, startled by the insight Bucky had about him. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit. “I’m not interested either. I don’t do relationships, and why are we even talking about that? You’re too focused on that— And I get it. I’m a catch. I’d be focused on me too.”

Tony kicked Bucky a little in the thigh. He’d rather the guy not call him out on everything. Couldn’t he keep it to himself?

“Eat your damned ice cream.” Yeah. Buck has gotten to him. Steve would be able to considerate on that point. “And yeah. I’d like you platonically sleep with me tonight unless you’re gonna try to strangle me.”

Tony needed someone to keep calling him out, he had too many people who either wouldn't bother or didn't see through the bullshit in the first place. But Bucky would take pity on him this time, partially because he also didn't want to talk any more about any potential relationship doomed from the start.

"...that's what I'm most worried about."

He had some pretty bad dreams and he could be violent if he woke up in the wrong way, he had already punched Steve hard enough once that it was only by a sheer miracle that he hadn't broken a rib.

"But I'll be careful."

“Wait. You’re worried about it and you still offered?” Tony jabbed his spoon at the air in front of Bucky as if it was some sort of magical ward to make him feel his distance. He didn’t know if it would work but he also wasn’t that worried about it. Bucky proved himself to be incredibly strong, but Tony still have both arms and a security team.

He’d be fine.

He was so sure of it that he extended his other leg and dropped his second foot in Bucky’s lap.

Where it ought to be.

Tony settled back against the couch’s armrest and gave his friend an almost withering look, as if to go ahead and say something. They could watch a movie. They could view some car videos. It wouldn’t be too much longer until Happy returned with a few bags of clothing for Bucky.

“Not sure what you wanted, Mr. Stark,” Happy confessed as Tony pulled out a neon pink Hawaiian shirt.

“Oh. This is perfect.”

He was honestly less worried about it happening with Tony than with anyone else, if only because the other man's presence was familiar even amongst danger, and that might keep him safe where nothing else would. But he was still worried, and if he hurt Tony then he'd hate himself pretty much forever.

Worries were driven out of his mind when he saw what Happy pulled out of that bag. He levelled a stare at the other man, not really knowing how intimidating his glares could be these days.

"No."

Just no.

"It's not really my colour, tell me you bought something plain. Sweats? A hoodie maybe?"

“Oh.” Happy’s face fell, not because he hadn’t gotten some plain clothing, but because he hadn’t realized that Tony was having him on by that moment of delight. He shoved the shirt into its bag and dropped the bag on the floor where it hopefully wouldn’t do any further harm. Tony could just look disappointed if he wanted to.

Another bag was held out to Bucky and it contained a few items that were certainly plain, soft black pants and grey socks and different muted colors of t-shirts with a hoodie or two.

Tony gave a big thumbs down, not that anyone was paying attention, and boo’d loudly.

“Fine. Be boring.”

Bucky picked out thankfully plain clothes, ignoring Tony and his bitching, and let his scowl soften a little bit. Obviously Happy hadn't intended to make him look dumb, he'd just got a variety of clothing because he didn't know Bucky. That was a nice gesture.

"Thanks, man."

Happy looked a bit surprised, usually Tony's guests either ignored him or were assholes to him, but he was just grateful the Hawaiian shirt wasn't being held against him and beat a hasty retreat before anything could go wrong again.

Once Happy had gone, Bucky pulled off Tony's clothes with some small effort, almost overbalancing when he attempted to get off the too-tight pants, and pulled on the new clothes with a small sigh of relief.

"You know, I want to live in sweats and hoodies forever. Just soft clothes, no more body armour, no more fatigues."

“Boring.” But honestly, Tony understood that feeling. He hadn’t put on a suit and tie since he’d come home, just in case someone from the media happened to glimpse him leaving the hospital or the car when they pulled in. He’d been in yoga pants and tank tops or T-shirts since, but he didn’t want to make it look like he was being too similar to Bucky.

They could have some overlap but Tony didn’t want to make it look like he was trying to cookie cut the other man’s experience.

He didn’t offer to help either. Bucky was doing just fine with one hand. He’d obviously gotten a lot of required self accommodations down pat. Plus, he’d been going without an arm for almost all of the time that Tony knew him. If he could drag his ass across the dirt floor of their cell, he could tie the drawstrings to his own pants.

“Want a drink? Rum goes create with ice cream.”

Bucky didn’t care how boring it was, it was what he desperately craved now. He had lived a life of blood and violence and struggle, he wanted to have years of soft clothing and plentiful food and decisions no harder than what drink to have. He knew it wouldn’t work out that way, life tended to be a struggle even not in an active war zone, but a man could dream.

“Pretty sure you’re not supposed to be drinking this soon after open heart surgery. Hell, are you even supposed to drink at all now you’ve had that sort of surgery?”

Weren’t the heart muscles weaker, or perhaps more vulnerable to problems now?

“Do I have to tell on you to this mysterious Pepper?”

“You’re thinking liver surgery,” Tony said as some sort of effort to get Bucky off of the idea. “My heart is fine.” It had been fine since he had gotten home and started his regimen of drinking to forget.

It came in handy.

No wonder Steve was afraid that Tony would be a bad influence on Bucky. He was a walking bad influence since he so rarely stopped to consider the consequences of his actions. Or that there would be consequences to his actions. It was his greatest failing.

He was already pouring himself a glass of the sweet liquor and glanced over his shoulder at Bucky to laugh. “Mysterious? Are you doubting the existence of my PA? I think I’m the poster child for a guy who needs a PA.”

“Oh sure, I just don’t trust that someone who needs a PA as much as you do would risk pissing her off as much as you do, knowing how badly you’d crash and burn without her.”

He would honestly like to meet Pepper Potts one day, it sounded like the only reason that Tony had survived and thrived for as long as he had was down to her, and possibly JARVIS. Tony had Bucky now, but perhaps he would do better if Bucky managed to team up with Pepper sometimes.

“So maybe don’t drink too much, because I’m pretty sure it’s heart surgery as well. Don’t believe me? We can always ask your super smart computer butler.”

“I don’t drink so much. One drink isn’t going to send me into convulsions. You’re bossy. Did anyone ever tell you that?” Maybe that’s what Tony liked so much about Barnes. He wasn’t easy, he wasn’t a pushover and Tony needed that sort of stability. It also helped that he was easy on the eyes, though.

Tony held back on the pour and settled for two-fifths to go with his ice cream. It would mellow out his edges and everyone could agree that it was important.

“You could be my PA. Let Pepper run the business. She’s better at it than I am.”

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