Loki (
throneenvy) wrote in
fossilised2017-05-15 01:29 pm
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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."
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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"Soon. How soon can you have them done?"
He shrugged.
"I don't think either one of us are much for ceremony or it being a big deal. We've waited long enough, and there ain't nobody to officiate. We say we're married when we put the rings on, that's enough."
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Glancing back at his work, and knowing there was a chance to pause now, Tony pulled himself to his feet and grabbed his toolkit. He handed the dog tags back to Barnes and headed out of the room. “Come with me.” Tony’s workshop was a block away. He had chosen the building because it was barely damaged, had thick concrete walls, and a pretty decent living space above it. He lived in the building alone, as he liked it, and though he might scavenge the other buildings in the future for some better furniture, it suited him just fine. He had something similar to electricity and access to the roof for whenever he had time to get his armor able to fly again. Plus FRIDAY’s servers all fit neatly under the workshop where she’d be safe.
He and Barnes would spend the next two hours working on the rings together, retrofitting one of his tools to make the sizing easier to change before using a pair of titanium rings he already had handy for repair work on the reactor in his armor to act as a base for the dog tag wrap.
“So I never pegged you for a romantic,” Tony said, already padding the form he’d be using for Bucky’s larger ring so that he could make sure the seams disappeared when formed together. He was trying to keep the serial numbers intact here, making it wrap artistically around the band for each. “I could do a better job with better metal but you want this old stuff huh? Do me a favor and figure out where my seam sealant is? Should be-- FRIDAY, spotlight on the cabinet drawer with the sealant?”
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"It's not romantic, it's selfish."
It was honest to say, and he said it without guile. Tony had done some bad things in his past too, and so he was never coy about his darker parts in this friendship.
"He's mine. He's all I have that's mine, and I'm gonna make sure he stays that way."
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“Marriage is less effective than tying him up and keeping him in a basement,” Tony pointed out, mostly to be crude. He could already picture that, the paragon of virtue that was Steve Rogers, would feel the vice grip of the ring and decide to follow the non-binding rules of monogamy that it portended anyway. There was nothing to suggest that he would stray, not with the ring and maybe not even without.
He used his thumb to flick one finished ring at Bucky for him to seal and put into the small glaive he’d built into the wall while he worked on Steve’s ring. And since this was supposed to be selfish, he twisted the metal to make sure that not only was the serial number visible partially around the edge of the design, but so was JAMES B BARNES. There was no better way to be selfish and possessive than to give someone a wedding ring with your name on it to literally claim them.
Given that FRIDAY happened to have Cap’s exact dimensions in her system, thanks to SHIELD, it was easy to size his ring perfectly. Tony took a little longer with this one, and then sealed it himself and stood against the wall waiting for the tempering to finish.
“You need a bachelor’s party.”
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Not the healthiest, but he had been through a lot and it was his only coping mechanism.
"No." It was blunt and immediate. "I'm not gonna have a party, I don't want a big deal, I just want to give Steve the ring and have it done with. So-- if they're done, I'll take them."
A pause, and then: "Thanks."
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"You're too serious," Tony called after him, but didn't follow. He should get back to his work but he was going to take a little time to listen to music and clean up. He'd done some fine work today. Both with the rings and with the freezer. There was no rush. Not now that they were going to be sitting on the rescue plans for a little while. He was pleased about that, he really was. Heading to the window, he watched Bucky leave the building and cross the street towards the place that he and Steve lived.
He wished them well. Silently. Very silently.
Steve would at least be home by then, going over figures from this area or that. It was hard to keep up with the blond. He was always active, always trying to make sure he knew exactly what was going on with everyone and every thing.
He looked up and half smiled, half sighed at Bucky. "I thought you might be trying to give me some space. I don't need it, Buck."
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"I don't like disagreeing with you on things like that, but I have to follow what I think is right."
He wasn't apologising very deliberately, because he wasn't sorry for doing what was right. Just sorry that it had hurt Steve in the process. He held out his hand abruptly and opened it to show the two rings clearly made out of his old dog tags.
"Even when we disagree we're still a unit, right?"
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Steve didn’t dare touch them, but he did lean in before blinking back, startled.
“Dog tags-- Oh wow, Buck. These are yours aren’t they? How’d you get them to…” Now was not the time for compliments, Rogers! “I mean uh. Yeah. We’ve always been a unit. I’m with you on this.” And he wanted it badly enough that his knees were shaking. Steve took a step back on one leg and pushed a hand over his mouth, though it couldn’t hide the giddiness in his eyes. “Is this… We’re really going to do this? Finally.”
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"Yeah, Steve. Tony made the rings for me today, I took the tags when we passed through the museum for your suit. I wanted them to mean something, a part of the past neither of us are ever gonna get back to carry with us into our future."
Maybe that was corny, but he said it all so genuinely, before holding out the ring that had been made to Steve's size, with his name and serial number more prominently displayed than the one made for him.
"Put it on and be married already."
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Steve wasn’t taking no for an answer.
Now technically, they should both be getting married in their uniforms but since he didn’t have the time or the skill to try and sew together two outfits in the next hour, Steve just tried to find something vaguely suit-like in the small amount of clothes he rotated. The best he could do was a black jacket and black jeans with a white t-shirt. It was something Tony would probably wear, but he didn’t have time to really worry about that when his hair wasn’t parting properly to the side anymore. He’d spent years training it that way but a few months of just letting it go and now it wanted to do it’s own thing? No way! He tried to reason with it and then doused it with lots of water and hoped it would dry on the way.
He would be the one waiting for Bucky in the rotunda, the dome above them sparkling in the early evening sunshine as it bounced off of the highly polished silver. He could see himself from every angle and it was making him self-conscious. Steve cleared his throat and patted down his hair and clutched the ring he’d be putting on Bucky’s hand so tightly it was leaving a mark in his palm.
Bucky wouldn’t be the next to arrive. No, it would be a woman wearing a black dress with full, natural hair, pure white, tied back into a large bun. She had on a pair of glasses and was carrying a zippered folio. “Captain Rogers? Mr. Stark said you’d be needing my services,” she said, voice deep and eyes kind. “I am… I used to be a retired Chief Justice in California. I was vacationing with my family in Montreal when the aliens attached and you and the Avengers came to rescue us not long after. I know the government no longer exists, Captain, but it still vested me with the power to preside over marriages and, if you’d like me to, I could officiate for you today.”
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Bemused, he nevertheless took his leave from Steve and disappeared to get himself showered and find some clean clothes. The nicest thing he had clothes wise were his Winter Soldier gear and he refused to get married in that, so he looked out some fresh pants and a hoodie, not the most formal of gear, but at least he brushed and tied back his hair.
Steve, stood in the rotunda, looked startled and then touched. It was really nice of Tony to have thought of this, especially given that they didn't always get on too well, and his smile to her was beaming bright. No matter how nervous he was, he was obviously excited too.
"Sure. I mean, yes, thank you, ma'am, we'd both really appreciate that. We--"
He cut off as Bucky arrived, slipping down the main hall and frowning slightly at the woman in attendance that he hadn't known would be here, ring in his hand and mind almost completely blank of more sappy things to say.
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Steve sucked in a breath as Bucky joined him and he held out his hand, his left, to grasp Bucky’s as they faced one another. Whatever the justice said, Steve wasn’t paying all that much attention. She made no mention of church or state, just some things about love finding a way and how heartening it was to know that it was still here, still visible, despite all that they had been through.
“Captain Rogers?” She waited until Steve looked at her. He’d been so entranced by Bucky, that they were here and about to get married… He’d never even pictured this before. He’d been so sure that even a wish would be a sin and now it was just simple reality “If you’ve words to say, now’s the time.”
Steve nodded and wet his lips and once again, Bucky was the only person in his world. “Gonna make this real short, pal, because I don’t want to wait another second to be yours,” Steve smiled. “I thought I lost you too many times. But here you are. With me. And we’ve already made our promises to be together until the very end but I can’t imagine my life not being yours. I’ve loved you too long and too hard not to be your husband. I’m ready. Been ready for forever.”
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He knew she was right. It was why the outbreak of war had seen a significant rise in marriages right across America and Europe, men and women scared they might not get much more chance to love each other, all emotions heightened by the uncertainty of the future. That was the same now. Different time, different catastrophe, but the same sort of feeling. He hoped there would be a rash of marriages, repopulating their numbers was something that needed to happen.
Right now all he could see was Steve, though, and the words he said were perfect. A smile touched his lips, peaceful for once, and his words were softer than their usual rasp. "Even when I lost myself, I still had you somewhere inside me. You're what stayed at the core of me, waiting, and you'll always be there. Since I met you, I couldn't do anything else but follow you. I'm real glad you're going to let me mark your dance card for the rest of our lives, Steve."
The justice found her eyes getting a little wet, but she was professional and compassionate as she bade them to exchange rings and make a simple promise to one another, and then pronounced them as married.
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Good for them, he thought to himself, and then had FRIDAY buzz Banner to see if he wanted to watch one of the movies they had in her databanks. Like Rogers and Barnes Get Married. A new classic.
It was dark by the time that Steve realized that he and Bucky were alone. The lights here werent automatic and the suns had dropped down below the horizon, their light no longer reflecting in the dome.
"So uh.... So I get to be Steve Barnes now...?"
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Bucky wasn't thinking about the future. He wasn't thinking about mankind or the planet or anything except the blue of Steve's eyes. He could have stayed in the twilight of the Capitol building for hours more, if he hadn't been interrupted by Steve actually speaking.
"If you want to be, or I could be James Rogers."
He didn't say that they could both keep their names, that wasn't how it worked. When people got married, they took the name of their spouse, it hadn't quite caught up to Bucky the progressive movement of keeping a maiden name in marriage. Besides, he liked the idea of them sharing a name, it was another outward symbol of their commitment.
"Which do you think sounds better? Steven Grant Barnes, or James Buchanan Rogers?"
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“You need to keep your identity,” Steve said. He wasn’t a name anyway, he was a symbol. He was Captain America to these people, not so much Steve Rogers. Being Steve Barnes wouldn’t really through them off. Not when he was the last outward sign of America. Long arms moved around Bucky, fingers lacing together at the small of his back to hold him in place. Once upon a time, after their little moment that they had yet, even now, to talk about back after his mom died, Steve thought that in a perfect world, he might one day stand with Bucky at an altar, look up into his eyes, and be his wife.
That induced entirely too many horrific guilt complexes that he’d never really been able to formulate it. But it was different now. There wasn’t an altar, but this was just as official. Bucky looked up into his eyes. And he was the man’s husband.
Just as good, all around.
“And you already put your name on me,” Steve grinned. Yeah. He’d seen the BARNES stretched across the band. “Steven Grant Barnes sounds perfect.”
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"Guess I did, Captain Barnes."
He loved it, voice soft and almost reverent.
"Knew from the first time I saw you that you were mine, spittin' blood and snot everywhere after being beat up by that kid. I had to punch him down for you, and when you yelled at me for saving your punk ass, I knew-- god, I knew you were gonna leave a mark on me."
He looked up into Steve's eyes, dark blue meeting sky blue. "I know what's traditional for a wedding night, Steve, and I want to. But I don't know if I can."
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He'd been celibate for thirty-two years, after all. One little episode of mutual masturbation had been his only entry into his own sexuality and while it had been wonderful, it brought with it a lot of heaviness after. And Bucky-- Bucky spent years enduring rape. And that scared Steve too, but he'd never back away from it. He didn't run from anything.
"You run the show. All I want is to be allowed to love you. And wake up next to you."
He couldn't miss what he never had.
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"I don't know when it'll be, but one day I'm gonna have you screaming my name as you see stars."
That was a bit more risque than he usually allowed himself to be, they were both kind of repressed and stuck in the forties when it came to talking about sex, but this was important.
"Count on it."
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Steve's metabolism would only let him get so red, but his face was undeniably flushed as he exhaled out. Bucky's fierceness, the intensity of his gaze, and those words... Well, Steve was a red blooded American and as much as he was willing to wait or to never have, right now he was undeniably turned on.
And that might have been a little cruel to the straight paced and moral Steve Barnes. He had to clear his throat twice before he found the strength to even wet his lips so he could reply.
"I... Will look forward to it...?" he said; maybe letting his voice drift upward a bit too sharply at the end there to form the question. "But uh. But now. Now would you.. Should we get some dinner? To celebrate...? Or maybe watch a movie?"
What did one do when married if not just be with the person they love?
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Bruce had enlisted Tony, who had enlisted others, and the news had spread like wildfire that their beloved leader had got married. Food had been made, makeshift banners created, even the sound system on the skiff had been rigged to play forties dance tunes. Somehow Bruce, Tony, and their helpers had turned the green area outside the Capitol building into a blend of cocktail bar and old fashioned dance hall.
Just before the happy couple emerged, as Bruce was standing beside Tony at the little bar area (which mainly had fruit juices or water, as no alcohol had been fermented yet), FRIDAY interrupted.
"Sir, Captain and Sergeant Barnes are on their way out now, please prepare."
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FRIDAY played music, and for the first time, their little thousand or so person community really felt like a community. Even the stubborn kid from the farm house was having a good time and the scientists were pretending that they had other things to talk about than science.
He ended up sneaking a little bit of alcohol (from his own stash, thank you), into the punch bowl, grabbing some sort of wild game kabob, and hung out on the steps of a building that they were still working on restoring for a hospital. He was not surprised when Bruce eventually made his way back over to him, but he was surprised by his own feelings on the subject. Maybe it was just the whole love-in-the-air type deal or that there were more hookups going on than at a Rumspringa barn dance, and maybe it would pass, but he couldn’t help but lean back against the curving concrete wall he was lounging against as Steve and Bucky danced a few yards away and offer Bruce Banner a warning.
“I’m in a kissing mood. If you get within arm’s length of me, you’re going to get it, Banner.”
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"I think I'll take my chances," he said and stepped in the rest of the way. "This is nice, isn't it? I think everyone needed this chance to unwind and be happy, it's cementing us as a group and they really love Steve."
He glanced over to where the newlywed couple were dancing, and the way they kept looking into one another's eyes as though nobody else existed in the world. It was sweet, it was everything he wanted to see. Good for both of them.
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One leg dangled as Bruce crossed the distance he had been warned against, Tony’s arms still loosely wrapped over his abdomen. There was a move to make and he was absolutely going to make it the moment that Bruce looked back his way.
The whole atmosphere was romantic. And Tony had always equated a need for companionship with a need for more than just companionship. He’d gotten over his testing the waters on his own desires back before he had taken over Stark Industries and while he might have dallied here or there, he tended to prefer women…
And he had, right up until his time as an Asgardian guinea pig.
Maybe that was a ship that sailed. Or maybe it was just Banner. A little kindness made a lonely, spoiled rich kid latch on. And that was for more than just holding hands in darkened rooms after PMSing sessions. And so yes, Bruce had been warned. And he still chose to lean against the wall Tony was seated on. And when he looked up at him, Tony set his hand on one of the stones of the building he had been leaning against for purchase before he kissed for, unsuspecting Bruce. And it was a nice kiss too. That romantic mood had Tony feeling in the mood for slow and sweet. It also helped that he was a fantastic kisser.
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He froze in surprise for a few seconds and then pulled back.
"Well," he said, small smile on his lips to try and make this as non-awkward as possible, which was possibly a futile endeavour given what Tony just did. "I can't say that you didn't warn me, can I?"
Bruce wasn't a man who allowed himself to think of romantic entanglements, it just wasn't a good idea with what he was, and he had certainly never looked at Tony that way and so all his thoughts now were on moving past this without ruining what friendship they had.
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