fossilised | I come from a land of ice and snow

I come from a land of ice and snow

Asgard sat atop the branches of Yggdrasil since time began, and little had changed in their society in the years since. Each Asgardian was long-lived into the millennia, their lands were fertile, their people brave and strong. They had their vassals, their allies, and their enemies. Yet even those who opposed them respected the might of the Golden Dias, and the royalty who sat upon it. Currently that was Odin Borson, though he grew weary more easily now and had begun to consider passing the throne to his eldest son.

He had been blessed with many children, but only two that he considered worthy of his lineage and status. His firstborn, Thor, strong and honourable and everything an Asgardian warrior should be. His second son, Loki, was not natural born, though none knew that but his wife. He was different, a creature of magic and mayhem, of sharp intelligence. Both were worthy, but together they would take Asgard to a new prosperity, he was certain of it.

Midgard, where the mortals dwelt, was a land raided every few centuries for stock. It was seen as a breeding ground, much like a corral for cattle. Mortals were lesser, short-lived and weak, they were fit only as slaves. The last raid had taken place when Loki had been but a baby, nearly a thousand years ago, but the mortals that had been taken had been bred and cared for so that a healthy slave population still thrived. Slaves were given a weakened mixture of Idunn's crop with their food, to extend their natural lives to at least a few centuries in order to make them worth the effort to train. They had no rights, but they were taught well that this was their natural position.

All slave children were raised in a central pen and taught the same when small, those that then displayed talent at cooking, riding, hunting, housework, artisan skills, or singing were then measured off to be specially trained for higher masters. Every five years those who could afford to buy a slave, or those of high enough status to simply demand them, came to the corral and chose. Those who were chosen were special, were envied, and those who were not ended up working the fields out in the far reaches of Asgard, the most menial of work.

Anthony and Steven had been friends since they were little and being raised in the large pens together. Both had excelled, Anthony at crafting and Steven at warrior's skills, but neither were chosen when they were five, nor ten, nor even fifteen. Now, at twenty, it was their final chance to be chosen before they would be assigned to one of the meanest farmers beyond the borders of the great capital. Steven woke Anthony as the dawn rose, mingled excitement and nerves on his face.

"Anthony! Wake up, I've got news! I heard the overseer talking to one of the passing guards, and Princes Thor and Loki are coming to the corral today."

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Bucky let their fingers slide together and then he pulled Steve down so that he could use his metal hand to card through his hair again. He couldn't really feel it, not properly, the arm could sense strong sensation like pressure or pain, hot and cold, not something subtle like the softness of Steve's hair.

"Maybe-- maybe it's dumb, but I don't care if the whole world knew before us, and I don't care if we wasted seven years or seventy years, I just don't. Because I've got it now, and it was worth the wait. They can have the letters and the photos and the history, it doesn't matter, we've got the future and everything better."

He pressed a light kiss to Steve's temple, not about to let him up now that he'd got him down.

"And if it bothers you that much, I'll write you new letters. Dear Steve, your feet are still damn cold in the bed. Yours, Buck."

"They are not," Steve complained, and though Bucky didn't want to let him up (hands in his hair non-withstanding), Steve pulled himse cup from that hunched over crouch by the cot anyway. He had been worried about propriety. He'd been worried about how it might look or if it would be disrespectful to Bucky to want to sleep close to him now that they knew about their feelings and weren't just good pals who needed to sleep against one another because Steve would freeze otherwise. But after everything that Bucky said, the romance of it and the remarks about his feet, Steve didn't care.

If Bucky didn't protest it, why should he?

"I'm going to prove it. But first... I need to steal some cushions."

Most of the mattresses and settees had been removed when they cleared the ship out but there was a supply room nearby. What Steve did was put together more of a nest than a bed for them, though he thought about trying to rig a tent without much luck (and Bucky laughing at him).

"Now listen," he said, fetching Bucky from the cot, gentle and affectionate, before depositing him in the pile of Asgardian furs. "If you just keep on saying really sweet things to me, I'm going to have to fall completely for you. And I don't think you want that. I haven't had any practice." Steve climbed in after Bucky, removing his shoes and socks to stick surprisingly still cold toes against Bucky's warm thigh.

Even super serum and better circulation couldn't change everything.

Maybe Steve thought that was romantic, but to Bucky it was just the truth. What did he care about pieces of paper or old photographs when he had the live version right in front of him to touch and talk to and kiss? He didn't need anything to remember Steve because he wasn't going to lose him and, if one day Steve died before him, Bucky wouldn't last long enough to need memories to look back on.

He flinched when Steve pressed his cold feet up against his thigh, before breaking into a soft and slightly snuffly laughter.

"You're kidding? Your feet are still freezing, you haven't proved anything. Geez, Steve, you need some thermal socks or something, because that ain't right."

He wound his arms around Steve without even thinking about it, melding their bodies together as if they had always meant to sleep like this.

Steve used his arm as a pillow for Bucky's head, laughing all the while as he was griped at. He didn't notice the chill anymore but that didn't mean that it wasn't still there. "Hang on, hang on..." He dug his feet into the furs and nudged the edge of one of the sheets he'd gotten up to cover them both with.

He'd never slept like this with anyone. Yes, sometimes Bucky stayed in bed with him instead of on the floor, and they had pressed their backs together mostly, or Bucky held him to stop the shivering, but that was survival. And Steve never let himself enjoy it the way he wanted to.

But this?

This he was never going to let himself do anything but enjoy. "How about you just shut up and go to sleep now? You have some mending to do because I'm not going to carry you around the jungle or let you get out of some honest work just because you were shot a few dozen times," he teased.

"How about you shut up and go to sleep, punk? You might be the boss outside of this room, but I ain't taking orders from you when I don't have to."

He was pretty tired though, it turned out that being shot was surprisingly draining, especially when he didn't actually have to get out and do missions again. His eyes were already leaden, but he was determined to stay awake past Steve sleeping because he had a plan, something to make Steve smile.

Whenever Steve finally got to sleep, Bucky would carefully get out of the bed and stagger to one of the drawers where a pen and paper could be found. It hurt like hell to move and he nearly fell about four times, but he managed it. So when Steve woke up a few hours from then, with Bucky back in his arms fast asleep, he would see about half a dozen folded pieces of paper scattered about the room with "Dear Steve..." on the folded side.

It was official. Bucky Barnes was by far the most idiotic and sweetest person ever to grace this planet. Uh. The planet that they left a few hours before. Whatever. Steve read and reread the partially charming and partially heart wrenching and partially ridiculous letters several times over, sitting on the floor outside of the nest where Bucky light snored his way to better shape. He had to keep covering his mouth with his palm to keep from giggling or sighing or making little choking noses at inappropriate sections of the letters.

Each one was tucked away in clothing they had picked up at one of the unlooted cities, a pair of jeans that fit him far too well, and while he ought to get back out there and make some rousing speach to the people on this ship about the better life they were going to... Well, he decided that rousing speeches could surely wait another hour or so.

Because Steve wanted Bucky to wake up with something too.

It would just be a little thing, half a page really, done in pencil smudges. Steve managed to capture the curve of Bucky's neck and shoulder perfectly, and though it was just neck and a shoulder, it was almost entirely too sensual.

"This has always been my favorite part of you," he jotted down in his neat handwriting. "The rest is OK too."

Bucky could think of a lot of parts of him that were better than his neck and shoulder, and he couldn't help but laugh as he saw the drawing filled with affection, and tucked it into his pocket just as carefully as Steve had made sure to keep his own. Other people might find them a bit sickening, but Bucky honestly didn't care. This was something that had always meant to be, ever since he met Steve the other man had been the other half of him, and he was going to love every moment of this.

But while the two super soldiers were being adorable with one another, the rest of the ship toiled in half fear and half excited anticipation about a new life. People got jobs, looked for news on loved ones, created new friends, made plans...

And down in the little bunk room, Bruce still sat with Tony holding his hand, silent and patient, waiting for either a meltdown or a zen-like realisation. He had seen both, and they led to the same place of healing, but one of them had to happen before this hate and anger burned him out from the inside.

Bruce would get his melt down. Patience would pay off and letting Tony doze while they held hands had probably been the only awkward part of this whole conversation (right after the rape confessions). The engineer was only just waking up, squeezing the hand in his, when Steve's voice came over the loudspeaker Tony himself had set up.

"Hi. This is Steve Rogers. A lot of you know me as Captain America from a few years back. I know there a lot of confusion and a lot of hurt happening on this ship. I hope to dispel some of it." Steve went only to explain his side of the Battle. He described the Asgardians and their culture in the best way possible for a G-rated audience. He spoke about a few thousand more people stuck in a prison camp that they were going to save. And that he just wanted everyone here to know that he wasn't going to rest until what was left of humanity was relocated to the moon they'd chosen.

"It's not going to be easy. We don't have a government to lead us or a good idea of what we can expect when we reach out new home. But that's why I'm counting on each and every one of you fine folks. Remember to love yourself and your neighbor. Help where you can. If you have a special skill, tell us about it. If you don't know how to help, talk to us. There's a lot to do and we are all in this together. All of us. We're family now."

At least when Steve signed off after a few more minutes of rousing speach about what their new home would be life and what needed to be done, Tony didn't try to break anything.

He just cried.

Sobbed really. It was the first time he'd managed to since the abuse had first started.

This was good.

It might not feel good at the time, especially for Tony, but it was. It was like cutting an infected wound to drain it of blood and disease so that it could heal right, and he would surely feel better when it was done. Not wholly so, a cry wasn't a cure all for trauma, but he might be able to move forwards with Steve and Bucky without that resentment or anger.

Bruce shifted his chair a bit closer and wound his arms around Tony, loose in case the gesture wasn't wanted, and just held him until his tears were all done.

Tony needed the embrace more than he needed the tears. Bruce was safe, sort of like a smart and sentient teddy bear. At least Tony didn't associate him with the other Ofher Guy, the one that had the guards pinch his nose shut and force the alcohol down his throat so he would participate willingly in being bred while they watched. Maybe it was just cathartic for the opposite version of thst Bruce Banner to be the one to hold him back together again instead of tearing him apart?

Tony wasn't that philosophical about it.

He just held onto Bruce for much too long, glad the doors were locked because a few thousand people in one place tended to get curious about closed doors. He pressed his forehead against Bruce's shoulder long after the sobs finished and he sighed into his shirt.

"Can we keep this between us? I have a reputation as an asshole to maintain."

Bruce didn't mind that his shirt was damp or that his arms were slightly cramped from holding Tony for so long. He remembered his Aunt doing the same for him when he finally broke and he knew how grateful he had been that she hadn't hurried him, she had just been there for him to let him get it out at his own pace.

"I'm not going to tell anyone."

He could say that there was no shame in crying, because there wasn't, but that wasn't what Tony needed to hear right now. He needed the assurance that crying wouldn't change things and make him into a subject of pity.

"Feeling better?"

"Maybe." It was hard to tell when he felt so defeated and exhausted and hungry if all things. "I miss pizza. But I think I have to talk to Cap.... Uh... Tomorrow."

It wasn't fair that he was hoarding Bruce. Surely other people needed there doctor and by the looks of him, he probably needed time away from Tony. The engineer lightly brushed his hand over a damp shoulder, eyes red, and gave Bruce a little push towards the door.

"I owe you. Now get out and spend time with other people or you'll just get boring."

Roughly ten hours later, after he'd eaten and slept and then checked to make sure that they were on course to go back through the rip in the void, Tony headed down to the hold. He knew roughly where Rogers and Barnes were holed up and so he peeked in every door he passed.

It didn't matter who he spoke to first. They both needed to have a conversation with him

Steve had pulled himself out of Bucky's arms only with great reluctance and, after leaving him the pencil drawing with its little note, he slipped back out into the main skiff and began focusing on duty again. He spent his morning helping anyone who needed it - whether that was someone who wanted assurance about the new moon, people shifting things around, or just helping prepare food for the thousands on board.

It wouldn't be long before the population of the new moon loved him with all their hearts, he had a way of inspiring that sort of loyalty and devotion even though it was unintentional.

He was just spending a few moments eating his own lunch when Tony showed up. He had a cheese sandwich in one hand, and one of Bucky's letters in the other, smiling with genuine fond affection as he re-read it for the fifteenth time.

"Is it good news?" He was off his game, leaning in the doorway. There was no one but Steve around at the moment but Tony wasn't sure if that made him feel relieved or annoyed. He did like a good audience. "Or should we start a fundraiser? I think a beef and beer sounds the most appropriate but we're going to have to settle for a boar-cat steak. Cows are in short supply."

He pushed away from the door and half sauntered into the kitchen and around where Steve was sitting. The Asgardian ship had a galley that seemed out of the Middle Ages. It was mostly just storage and much of the dried goods had been transferred to the moon already. Tony had hooked up a few salvaged fridges but that was it for the cold storage.

He didn't bother with them and just grabbed a box of mini cereal to munch out while he chatted to Steve.

"So uh, evidently I owe you an apology?" No. Tony, he a grown up. "I definitely owe you an apology. You're not the cause of any of my problems."

Steve folded the letter carefully and put it away as soon as he realised he wasn't alone. Those were for him, private, and he didn't want to share them. He knew that Bucky had written them because of how upset he had been over other people remembering those other letters better.

He hadn't been expecting an apology from Tony, and as soon as he realised what it was, he beamed. Genuine happiness on an earnest face that didn't do lying well, he held out his hand for Tony in the offer of a shake.

"Forget it, we're square. But I'm glad to hear you say that, because I really was hoping to rely on you when we got to our new home. Sure, leadership is important, but I think the tech crew are going to be even more vital. We'll need heating, refrigeration, protection-- and we need to do it all without endangering the ecosystem. I can't think of anyone better to find and lead a team of scientists and technicians than you."

Where the hell was Banner? Why did he think this would be a really good idea to just traipse up to Steve alone and have a little chat with him? He should have stayed in the doorway and said his piece because now Steve was being Steve and Tony felt the need to hit him again rising like bile in his throat.

He had no intention of being a leader. He'd been leader enough for awhile to know how awful that was. He didn't want to be relied on. Ever. Not for the things that leaders were at least.

After a moment of silence, Tony stood. "You got it. Make a list. Digitally. Send it to FRIDAY and I'll get right on what you want."

Agreeing was better than violence right? He'd need time to figure out how to deal with Rogers.

Okay... so apparently they weren't fine if the way Tony was now reacting was any indication. He had no idea what he was doing that kept setting things wrong, but it was tiring and upsetting. He had no issue with Tony and he did want them to work together, but he didn't push it. He just nodded and took a half step back.

"Pen and paper okay? I haven't quite got around to that whole-- digital list, thing."

Fury had been talking about getting him up to speed with the technology of the world, but then Loki attacked, the Avengers formed, and the Asgardians invaded. Not a whole lot of time for learning email.

Steve was just too much, too fast. He was too good, too willing to overlook a few nasty comments and forgive. Tony wanted that awkwardness. He wanted s chance to see something more than perfection from Rogers.

So every conversation was just tainted with so much goodness. He hated it.

"Okay, first," Tony said, pulling the chair back out again. "We have limited supplies on manufactured goods. There's no more paper once you use it up. No more ink or graphite. So you have to be sparing with it. We can make supply runs to Earth but after the next one or two, everything will be so radioactive that we won't be able to get anything else from there. Not just people. Everything. So no. Pen and paper isn't okay. You just dictate. FRIDAY?"

"Yes, boss?" His new AI was no JARVIS but she was happy to help.

"Make sure you compile a list of demands from Rogers. If he asks you to put something on the list, do it."

"Sure, boss. Captain America's list has been created in the data files. Ask any time and I will add your demands."

Unfortunately for Tony, Steve didn't believe in holding a grudge. He had seen too many bad things happen and lost too many good friends to want to waste his life being angry when someone had already apologised. So Tony wouldn't get his awkwardness here, much as he might wish for it to be different.

"Oh, uh, thank you, ma'am."

"You don't have to call me ma'am, Captain Rogers, my name is FRIDAY. I'm an artificial intelligence system designed to assist Mr. Stark with anything he needs."

"Well, thank you anyway."

"I guess you never got to know JARVIS... His program was corrupted in the attack but you and Bucky brought my server back and found my personality chips so... I don't think I thanked you for that." Tony wasn't trying to make it a big deal here. He was still trying to be a better teammate though, and maybe since he knew he could still school Blondie here, he felt better capable of dealing with the situation.

He sat with Steve for awhile as he made notes with FRIDAY on what they were going to need to do back on the moon. He even interjected with a thought of two for the AI to record. Every so often, they were joined by lingering refugees who all wanted to personally express their thanks before wandering out again.

It was only when they were alone for an extended period of time, silence passing between them as they tried to come up with a settlement plan, that Tony carried on with what he had wanted to say at the first go.

"I'm trying not to hate you. It's not your fault and I know that but I'm really fucking mad at you for not having to go through what we did. So I'm going to need some time and some space to get over that. I've been living in your muscled shadow my entire life and I'm having a hard time coping with the fact that I couldn't fight them and save those woman."

Steve really didn't understand that mindset. He had been through some pretty rough things, fighting in World War II as Captain America, and never once had he been angry at someone for not having to get shot at. Why would Tony be angry at him for not getting violated? That seemed... disgusting, actually.

He frowned, but he managed to keep himself from saying all of that, because apparently he didn't understand how things worked any more.

"You're not in my shadow, and if you are then take a couple of steps to the left and there's the sun. I'm not going to apologise for fighting, and I'm sure as heck not trying to overshadow anyone."

These all sounded like Tony's issues.

"But if you need me to give you some space, then done."

"Finally. A little chink in your perfection armor. And thank god for that." Steve's usual abundance of empath seemed to have fallen a little to get mired in dust and dirt. And it made him more human, though it annoyed Tony too. He'd opened up. He had actually wanted just s little bit of understanding. Evidently thst just wasn't going to happen.

He took that as his cue to leave. Steve agreed to what he wanted and that worked out just fine for him.

And honestly, it left Steve fuming a little too. He knew Tony to be arrogant and self absorbed but he never thought the engineer would go so far to place blame. He felt pretty bad about it now, a little dirty really. He kept trying to be friends with Tony but Stark made it so hard.

He worked with FRIDAY a little more before headed back down to check on Bucky, peanut butter and jelly sandwich in hand for his healing... Lover. Was that the right word?

Bucky wouldn't be there when Steve got back.

He never dealt well with bedrest, even in their little quarters, and so he had staggered away. Though he had to use the wall for support more than he'd like and move relatively slowly, he still managed to be near silent on bare feet and avoid most scrutiny. It was just a shame that when he got to the kitchens, it was about the same time that Tony got there too.

He had no idea that the engineer had just spoken to Steve, that it hadn't gone exceptionally well, and that he had been looking for Bucky too. He nodded, wary but not rude.

"Tony."

Tony rolled his eyes. “Do you two come in pairs? I just…” He glanced over his shoulder to see if Steve was coming up from behind him. He really wouldn’t be surprised if he was. They were going to tag team the shit out of him. Just great. He was already working through his anger here because Steve had almost led him to a mellowing catharsis only to pull him right on back again like whiplash. He could still feel it in his neck and he hoped there was a chiropractor on duty. “Never mind. Have you come to pop me one for offending your boyfriend again? And by the way, I’m allowed to say that because half of the ship is saying that and I watched him kiss you so--“

He didn’t know where he was going with that so he stopped, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

“I don’t want to fight with you. I just don’t know how to say the right thing because it keeps evolving into fights. I’m going to be the bigger man, not spatially of course, you’re huge, but metaphorically, and high-tail it out of here with all of my teeth intact. All right? Also you should sit down, you look like hell-- Okay, see, there I go again, always running my mouth.”

Bucky had no idea that Steve had just spoken to Tony and so he frowned slightly when he was asked if they were a tag team, or even if he were about to punch Tony's teeth out for annoying Steve. The engineer was just a big old ball of confusing issues at the moment, even for Bucky.

"I'm not about to punch you, why the hell would I? You helped save my life, I owe you a thanks for that."

That's not to say he wouldn't punch him later if he deserved it, but he wasn't about to forget that if it hadn't been for Tony then he would have been face down in an unmarked grave somewhere on an increasingly radioactive planet.

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