fossilised | It's AU time

Bucky looked up at Steve in startled surprise, he had never even considered something like tattoo work. But it was true, his hands were steady, he used to be the best sniper in his unit. Hell, one of the best in the army at all, he was just a natural with marksmanship. Or he had been.

"You're kidding, right? I thought a tattoo artist had to be able to draw too, and don't you need two hands to operate the gun and shit?"

He wasn't saying no, it just took him completely by surprise.

"Besides, I don't know if I could bring myself to ink a terrible Pikachu onto some four hundred pound girl's ass."

"You'd be surprised what money will make you say yes to," Steve chuckled. "But no. Just the one hand for the gun. The other mostly steadies everything but I've seen you do that one handed too," Steve grinned. "About half of the people we employ can't draw or shade or anything," Steve shrugged. "Mickey wants her tattooists to look pretty and have crazy things to talk about without being threatening. Why do you think I have a job?"

He shrugged as if that was an explanation.

"I sit in the back, I make the art. They trace it with the ink gun." He wasn't bad on the eyes either and seated, he didn't seem so short and scrawny. "You have the look. I told you that I thought you were an aspiring actor-- you're gorgeous."

There was no exaggeration there.

Bucky certainly had passed enough mirrors not to be shocked by the revelation either.

Bucky raised an eyebrow as if he wasn't quite sure of that, but something about the way Mickey did business didn't sit that right with him. "Surely the artist should be tattooing too, I mean-- you're the one that should get all the credit for the art, not some monkey with an ink gun."

He knew that in some places it was the tattooist that got a following, and if they didn't do their own art then that was highly unfair. Just because they had a pretty face, and hell, who had a prettier face than Steve? Literally nobody.

"But if you really think I could maybe learn, then I could look into it. I'll need a job first to pay for the classes. But after that, sure."

He just had to stop wallowing and pull himself together. Get back out there, get a job, be normal. No problem.

"I could get you the friends and family discount," Steve said, without any real comment on the business model for the shop. Steve was paid very well for the clients he designed for. He just didn't have the stamina in his arm to hold the gun, his hand was not steady enough, and if he had an attach during the session-- he didn't mind ruining his art. But ruining skin? That might haunt him.

Working with Bucky could be really rewarding though. A collaboration. Steve was already having lots of thoughts he shouldn't about the future. This was just another. He needed to stop rushing everything. He knew that. But Bucky made it easy.

"We can talk about it later-- I have a few hours before I really need to get ready for work. So..."

Yes. That was an eyebrow waggle.

"Care to make good on some promises."

"Damn right."

Bucky's voice became a low growl and he practically tackled Steve back into the couch. No bed this time, he wanted to christen every room in the apartment and make sure that Steve always though of him even when he wasn't there. Who would have thought this guy had been a blushing virgin only a couple of days ago?

It wasn't hard to see just how much Bucky really did find Steve attractive, fingers splayed over pale skin as he stripped Steve carefully but insistently. He wanted to get the man in his mouth as soon as possible, and then either take or be taken. Hopefully several times in the few hours.

He really did want Steve to be walking funny when he went to work.

Bucky would get his wish, and would get to watch Steve limp a little as he walked down the street passed beneath the window to the subway. Natasha had not been wrong when she said that the start of a sexual relationship was wonderful and intense. All Steve wanted to do was get back into bed with Bucky. And eat ice cream.

He had a small attack at work from the cold air but otherwise spent the next three hours hard at work in design. He did a killer unicorn for one of his best clients (her sleeve and back piece were all his work) and left just before Mickey herself started work on the design after making her promise to send him photos on Instagram.

He may even have been whistling as he headed down into the subway to pay his fare and slip through the turnstile. Standing by the doors to let a woman and her baby have his seat, Steve counted the stops back to Brooklyn when the lights went out and the train screeched to a stop when it lost power.

All of Manhattan was engulfed in darkness as the objects appears in the sky. Across the river in Brooklyn, if Bucky or Natasha or Loren and Tony had the news on, they would see something out of a science fiction movie, swarming crafts zipping across the dark sky, barely visible.

Steve would be unreachable. Communication with the island was down.

What the hell was going on?

Bucky had spent the last few hours basically in a coma after so much sex, sleeping naked and contented in Steve's bed with no nightmares for once. He only woke up when he started to get cold and realised that Steve should have been back well before now. A quick attempt to call him said that cell reception was down, or Steve's phone was damaged, or-- God, what if he had been hit by a car? Or got in an accident or something?

That was when he turned on the news and just sort of... stared.

Seriously, what was this? Were they under attack from another country? Jesus, it looked like something out of an old B-Movie, were these aliens or something? No. No, that was insane. But whatever was going on, Steve was out there in it. He had no idea where, he didn't know if Steve had been in the tattoo shop, on the train, on the street... just that he was out there.

He didn't even think about what a dumb idea it was, Bucky just fled Steve's apartment, took a quick trip up to his own apartment where he had one or two illegal things (like his unregistered service gun), and then out into the night. Stupid, it was a three hour walk from Brooklyn to Manhattan, but apparently he was determined anyway. Adrenaline and fear gave him the energy to run, and just keep running, his phone on in his hand to try and catch live news updates as to what the fuck was going on and occasionally keep trying to call Steve.

The city was not quiet, but neither was it the typical, ordered chaos that it usually was. The streets were jammed with cars, most of which were no longer occupied as their passengers and drivers headed for shelter. The ferry wasn’t working and all of the trains had stopped. Given that the only ways off of Manhattan were now, currently, by foot through the tunnels or over the bridges, Bucky would find it more difficult to reach the island itself with the sea of people moving in the direction opposite the way that he was traveling. There were riots. Looting happened all up and down the streets. The police were not really managing the wide scale panic occurring.

Even Brooklyn had become a warzone.

“Hey!” He was three hours into the journey, none of the creatures from the sky attacking, but humanity’s chaos below them doing a better job of invading than they ever could, when someone literally pulled at the neck of his jacket. Tony Stark, bundled up against the cold on the day after Christmas, maneuvered his bike through the thinning crowd. “Get on, Barnes!”

Hopefully Bucky wouldn’t panic and shoot. Hopefully his mind was still his own. The situation was extremely triggery.

Honestly, Bucky wasn't entirely convinced that he hadn't just cracked and that all of this was happening inside his head. Aliens? That sort of shit was from comic books and movies, not real life. He was just a guy from the army, dating an art student, what about their lives said that alien invasions were ever on the cards? It was much more likely that he had broken down and was even now some crazy homeless guy wandering the streets in his own private hell.

He nearly knocked Stark right off the bike he was on when he was grabbed, only just stopping before the butt of his gun connected with the guy's face, eyes wide and breathing a rapid pant.

"What the fuck is going on?" He spat as he swung himself up onto the bike. "Manhattan, I need to go to Manhattan, Steve is there."

“I’m not privy to any more information than you,” Tony said as he leaned forward for Bucky to get on the bike behind him. He shouldn’t be actually driving this thing since his arm was still in a lot of pain but Loren had gone to some sort of book convention at the Javitz Center on the far west end of Manhattan and Tony was going to get to him if it killed him. “News is all just speculation right now but I’m not getting involved in War of the Worlds alone here. I’ll take you where you need to come. Come on.”

Taking a bike through the wasteland of cars and toppled possessions was a lot easier than moving around on foot, but it came with it’s own challenges once they reached the center of the city by the major train stations. People had stopped running, those that could were hunkered down inside of buildings, but the thousands and thousands of tourists that had decided to come up to the city on Winter vacations were all just standing on the frosty streets with their luggage, looking lost and afraid. It was nearly midnight by then. Barricades had started to go up around offices and even subway entrances.

Tony couldn’t help everyone, though. He just hoped that they didn’t all freeze to death by the morning.

They were just about to hit Broadway when six armed men in parkas rushed them from the left and right as Tony was navigating a narrow choke point between two cabs that had smashed into each other and bounced off again. He hadn’t seen them coming until they demanded in rough voices for his bike.

Okay that was good. Not that being swarmed by people was ever particularly good, but at least they were human. Those overhead had to be human too, they just looked alien-like as some kind of scare tactic. They were under attack, an invasion or terrorist action, but not some kind of other worldly shit, that just wasn't real.

Bucky levelled the gun, which he had kept in his jacket until then, directly at the one who had demanded the bike.

"Back off, we have people we're looking for and we're not involved in whatever the hell this is. Stark, just keep driving."

He was going to find Steve, and help find Loren, if it was the last thing he ever did. He existed half in reality and half in his own fractured fear right now, but adrenaline and focusing on Steve helped him keep grounded enough.

Luckily, a gun was still a trump card in a fight with bats and Tony’s instinct to just move forward and nearly run over their attackers got them out of the situation. It had only been a matter of hours but without guidance and entirely too many different people and things to blame, society under the most heavily effected population had already started to break down. That worried him.

“Where the hell is-- Shit! Barnes—“

There were a dozen or so people around the corner, trying to pry other people out of what looked like a subway entrance that had been smashed into by a bus. There was a very familiar looking blond with blood in his hair laying curled up on the ground. He’d already been pulled out of the rubble, but the rescuers were more concerned with getting everyone out to see if one they already rescued was alive.

Bucky wasn't surprised by the way people were acting. He'd already been in a warzone, he had already seen how the lack of law and order could make even a usually normal person act like an animal, and he had lost a lot of faith in the goodness of humanity as a result. Steve had been helping to restore that, he was like the kind of person that only existed in storybooks... and now he was on the ground with blood in his hair.

He vaulted from the back of the bike before it had even stopped, hitting the ground running to get to Steve's side and drop to his knees, fingers immediately searching for a pulse.

"Steve. Steve, baby, open your damn eyes and look at me. Please be breathing, please be okay."

He didn't give a shit who was attacking New York right now, whether it was legitimately aliens or another country, all he cared about was this guy right here.

Tony had to get to Loren. Loren could be in the same state as Steve was, or worse. “Pick him up and lets go!” He wasn’t sure how Bucky was going to be able to hold an unconscious man in his arms as they rode, but the other option was that Tony would just leave him. And he didn’t really want to be that guy.

The whole thing made him nervous, though. This waiting when there were a group of armed idiots a few blocks back. And there were crazy space things above them, somewhere, no longer visible in the absence of a sun.

“Barnes, come on!”

He did know that he was being completely ignored right now, though. Especially because Steve wasn’t immediately responding to the way Bucky checked him over.

He would require CPR to restart his lungs, and once Bucky started to try it out with only the one hand, Tony rolled his eyes and slid off of his bike to do the chest compressions. On the second round, Steve finally sucked in a breath on his own, flailing and confused.

Even if Bucky had heard what Tony said, there was no way he was putting Steve on a bike when he could have spine or neck injuries. He wasn't about to move him unless there was literally no other choice, or until proper help came. Getting him breathing was the first issue, though, and he went to that with a desperate will.

He didn't even realise that he was crying as he bent over to Steve to clear his airways when he sucked in a breath, shuddering from head to foot.

"Steve... Steve, please, please open your eyes. I need you to look at me. Don't just fucking sit there, Stark, check him over. Broken bones, wounds that need binding."

Field surgery wasn't exactly his strong suit, but he wasn't about to just give up.

Pale blue eyes lifted towards Bucky, away again, towards Tony, and then back to Bucky where the gaze stabilized. He pressed his lips together and hummed just to feel the vibration against his lips before he leaned into Bucky’s arm. “I’m okay,” he breathed, though it was pretty obvious that he wasn’t all right by the massive gash on the top of his head. “I’m-- Bucky, how did you get here-- I think there was a terrorist attack.”

His ears were ringing, which was not a new sensation, and his vision was just a little fuzzy and clearing up each time he blinked the blood out of it.

He tried to stand up but Tony Stark kept him down for a moment. “Dude, stay put.”

“No, something’s really wrong,” Steve said, hardly knowing the full extent since he’d been trapped underground in the tunnels for several hours now trying to use cell phone lights to navigate the darkness. He had no idea what else was going on.

There was a sudden screech behind them and Tony turned and got to his feet just in time to see some punk taking off with his bike. “God damn it!” This was why you don’t help people!

As far as Bucky was concerned, this was a war zone once more. He was only half here in Manhattan, the sounds of explosions and rioting, and the smell of blood just taking him back to Afghanistan. He knew there were enemies and he knew there were people he had to protect, and losing a transport vehicle in the middle of hostile territory wasn't permitted.

They were going to catch him again, they were going to do terrible things to him again, they were going to--

He raised his gun before he even knew what he was thinking, placing a perfect headshot through the back of the skull of the guy trying to steal Tony's bike, sending him and the bike skidding to a halt a few hundred meters down the road. He didn't even think that he had just committed felony murder. That was the problem with soldiers, they were trained to kill and then sent home to where that was a crime.

"Get the bike, Stark," he said, voice cold and calm. "Steve, stay still, you're hurt. Can you move your fingers and toes?"

There weren't any screams. No one was paying attention to them actually, the gun shots were loud but there were gun shots all over the city and the rescuers were all summarily attempting to continue with their rescue. Steve, however, was agast.

"You-- Buck--"

Tony's stronger but higher pitched voice broke through. The silence gave way to his angry yelling. "Are you fucking nuts?! Put down that god damned gun!" He was already striding away to get the bike because they were a good two miles from the convention center and this was the easiest way to go. "Put down that gun," he repeated calling back over his shoulder. "And you get to helping those people. I'm getting Loren and I'll be back for you!"

Probably. No. No he would would. Absolutely.

He just couldn't deal with seeing anyone else die. There was enough blood on his bike.

Bucky didn't put down the gun, his fingers tightened on it as if it were his only life line. He took up a stance over Steve as if intending to protect him from the world, paying no attention to the orders he had been given at all. If he went to help the others, Steve would be unprotected and might--

"I've got you, Steve."

It was a low murmur. It was probably horrifying to look at him, because his expression and voice were utterly calm, but he was crying so hard that he had to gasp for breath. He didn't want to be back here.

"I won't let them take either of us again, I swear it."

This time, Bucky knew him. This time, Steve had an advantage. He stood, slowly, and used Bucky to keep himself upright. His Equalibrium was off, likely due to the ringing in his ears. He took hold of the man's belt loops as he watched Tony ride off, desperately trying not to look at the dead man on the ground.

"We have to get back home." That was a mission. If Bucky wanted to protect him, he could. But not here.

Steve was exhausted and freezing but if they kept moving, it would give them both a purpose and that was about the only thing he could hope for at this point. He pulled the dog tags out from under his coat and used his scarf to keep his head and ears wrapped.

This was not going to be a good time. He knew that already.

"Do you remember the way you came? We have to get back. Priority one." He hoped he sounded authoritative.

It took Tony an hour to get to the convention center, the monstrous steel and glass building on the water was difficult to get to since all of the roadways and the subway line had been blocked off. He had to park his bike a block away and climb over cars to get to the street in front of the bright orange building. It shouldn't be orange. His mind filled that in. The Javitz Center was burning inside and the glow was bouncing off of the glass.

Edited 2017-04-06 22:29 (UTC)

How could they get back home without the bike? And even if they did get there, what difference would it make? If this was a terrorist attack, then maybe it would get them to safety. But if this was actual aliens (which surely it couldn't be, this wasn't a world where anything existed to fight them off), then nowhere would be safe. The whole world would be in trouble and it sure as hell wouldn't matter that Bucky had just shot a man.

"Get on my back."

Bucky at least knew that Steve was wounded and couldn't be walking, a piggyback was the best option he had for fulfilling the mission parameters. And it was helpful to have a mission, it was useful to have Steve order him with authority in his voice.

Over at the convention centre the blaze had really taken hold, and the whole area was full of people running in confusion. Trying to get to cover, trying to get out, wounded and confused, wondering where the emergency services were. At least Tony would see Loren a short distance away, familiar dark haired head catching the light of the fire. He was sat against a wall of the neighbouring building, arms wound around his stomach as if he were cold and head bowed. It was hidden by his jacket and the way he held himself, but he had a sharp piece of debris lodged deep in his stomach and the only reason he wasn't dead already was because he had been in too much shock to take it out.

Having no eyes for anyone at all but the dark haired man he was tripping over himself to get to, Tony failed to notice that there were a lot of dead people strewn about. The whole convention center had exploded internally and it would be called a small miracle that it didn't collapse into the Hudson River when this was all said and done. Tony ignored the ache behind his eyes as he slid to his knees beside Loren and moved to hug him...

He would find that piece of shrapnel before too long but he was not a doctor. He didn't have anything to help his boyfriend at all, which scared him beyond all recognition. If Bucky was having a triggering moment, like he was back at war, then Tony was relieving memories of his parents' deaths.

He'd been alone since he was twenty-two years old, until this darkly beautiful creature came into his life and they had just clicked.

He lightly touched Loren's cheek and shrugged his coat up to warm him up further. "Don't...don't move. I'm going to find you some help." Or he'd die trying.

Luckily for him, his favorite doctor wasn't very far away at all, trying to help a woman who was missing her legs as she bled out by the escalators leading into the lobby of the convention center. "Banner?!" The man had patched him up so often that Tony insisted only on seeing him whenever he was injured. And that was more frequent than Loren needed to know about. "Banner, I need you!"

Loren felt as though everything happening around him was a dream right now, the only thing that penetrated is consciousness was how cold he was, but that was the shock keeping the pain at bay. He smiled slowly and drowsily when Anthony touched his cheek, murmuring something too low to hear.

It was incredibly lucky that Bruce was here. He had come to the convention on his rare time off to look for a first edition book that he particularly wanted, and it meant he had been on scene to help out those who had been injured. Not that he had made a huge difference so far, he had no medical supplies and no ambulances were getting through yet.

"Tony?" He couldn't help but be surprised, what was one of his most regular patients doing here? "Are you hurt? You have to wait a moment, I'm helping this lady. She's going to be fine."

She wasn't, she was dying even as Bruce worked frantically to try and make a tourniquet and stem the flow of blood, but he couldn't just walk away.

"Fine-- What-- Banner, she is not even conscious," Tony said, grabbing Bruce away, "but my boyfriend is dying. There's something in hi stomach... You've taken lots of sharp things out of me before and I need--" He glanced at the too pale woman, her mouth open with blood on her lips. "She's gone or she will be in about two minutes but there's still a chance for Loren and I swear to God if you do not help me, when the aliens decide to make this worse than what it is, I will suck all of their dicks and get them to turn you into green paste for my trouble."

He was already pulling Bruce up and away with him. He didn't even feel a little bit guilty about the woman left lying in the cold.

A secondary explosion caused people to shriek and move away from the building as Tony dragged Bruce to where Loren was seated. They had been using the convention center for warmth but now, obviously, it was just a ticking time bomb ready to rain glass and fire across them.

A lot of those people were going to die tonight.

Loren would not be one of them.

Bruce allowed himself to be dragged. Even if his heart broke at the idea of leaving anyone, and that poor woman would haunt his dreams forever, he was still a doctor and he knew when he had to go to a patient more likely to make it for the greater good. He had no idea what would happen here, but he thought a lot of people would die tonight and in the following days. If this really was an invasion from another planet, that was the end of civilisation as they knew it. Hospitals would hardly be running.

He crouched beside Loren and carefully got him to sit up a bit further and peeled his arms away from his stomach, brow furrowing in concern when he saw the large shard of metal embedded in his stomach. Pale skin, sweating, probably hypertensive.

"Alright, Loren, can you look at me? Good-- very good, what I need you to do is focus on Tony for a while. My name is Dr. Banner and I'm going to try and help you, but it's going to hurt, so try to keep as focused on Tony as possible."

"Anthony," Loren said, small smile at his lips as he reached a hand out for his boyfriend. "I tried to call you, I found... found a collection of engineering magazines from the fifties, did you want them? What-- what are you doing here?"

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