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 thought that Tony must have a very boring life if all he had to entertain himself with was the possibility of an illicit attraction between two best friends. There was probably nothing in this book that would be at all weird; after all, he had been modelling for Steve since they were kids, that there would be a sketchbook almost just of him wasn't surprising.

But then he got to that picture.

The way it was drawn couldn't be described as anything other than erotic, with the attention to detail and the way that the shadow faded in just below his navel where the blanket dipped to only just cover his modesty. He was left staring at it for a long time, at the rip in the page where Steve had obviously started to pull it out.

Why? Was he ashamed? Why didn't he tell Bucky?

He closed up the book and set it to one side, waiting for Steve to reappear before they touched down in the first inhabited area, eyes and expression unreadable, tone of voice measured.

"I've been looking through one of your sketchbooks, Steve."

Steve had been busy. Moving down the hallway of the room that Bucky was in, he'd been preparing the others for occupants. "Yeah?" he didn't think anything of what Bucky said. Bucky had seen a lot of his art. For awhile there, it was all Steve did. "You always told me that maybe I'd be in a museum some day." He was making beds, glancing only over his shoulder as Bucky leaned in the doorway. "I guess the idea of Captain America stuck enough for them to keep some of my old stuff in there." He flipped a sheet up and shoved the mattress back. Crisp military corners. Old habits were hard to break. He stood, preparing to move to the next room, but Bucky was just there, blocking him with his eyes.. Staring at him.

So Steve looked back, beautifully sincere in his inability to guess what Bucky had seen or what was going through his mind right now. Steve had no idea that anyone had seen it. He had no idea that it had been the subject of so many books and articles and class discussions. He would have been very embarrassed. At least the page that the museum had chosen to display was just of Bucky in his hat, the picture he'd drawn as Bucky was getting ready for his last night on the town before being shipped off.

"You okay, Buck?"

Had something triggered him? Old drawings from their childhood maybe?

Now that Steve was looking at him directly, Bucky took the sketchbook out of his pocket and flicked it open at the right page, holding it out for Steve to either take from him or just look at. It wasn't subtle, it wasn't anything that even Bucky with his utter idiocy about Steve's feelings could deny. And it made him so mad that they could have had something more all this time.

"Interesting art."

His voice was still very level, even as he continued on.

"Back when I was working for Thor, he ordered me to be your friend and I-- touched you. You only stopped me when you realised I didn't know who you were. Maybe there's something you need to tell me, Steve?"

It took a lot to make Steve look terrified, but this probably was the worst case scenario. He could feel the ground rushing up all over again, he could feel it in his gut, the tightness of it, the fear of the inevitable. But, just like back then, Steve faced his own future with a surprising amount of grace and fortitude.

He did not take the book. His eyes did not linger on the page. He hadn't seen that in a long time, but he knew what it was and he knew why Bucky was angry with him too. He'd been sloppy, but there was no excuse for it now. Here was the firing squad and a lifetime of a carefully kept secret, one he attempted to cover over with his torch for Peggy Carter, and they were all armed and ready to go.

Steve straightened his shoulders and kept Bucky's eyes even if it looked like he was crumbling inside. He had a stiff upper lip to go with those bright blue eyes turning more and more liquid.

"You're wrong, Buck. I stopped you because that's not who you are. And I'm not taking advantage of anyone." His shoulders slumped, and he finally looked away, down at Bucky's feet. "Now listen, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for all of it. But I was never-- II was never going to allow it ruin our friendship and if I told you..." He sucked in a breath and looked up again, face hard and the tears blinked away. He wasn't going to cry now that he was caught. And he wasn't going to run either. "I was selfish. It was wrong. I will stay away from you."

Edited 2017-07-01 16:44 (UTC)

"Yeah, you were wrong."

But then, he had been wrong too, hadn't he? He had held a torch for his best friend since he was a stupid kid in high school and realised that when he went to touch himself, it was a certain shade of blue eyes that he pictured in bed at night rather than any particular dame. He had lived with it for a long time, and now it turned out neither one of them should have had to live with it.

"I love you."

When he said them, the words were hoarse and a bit scared. Even though he pretty much knew that Steve felt the same way now, it still felt like jumping off a cliff without anything to catch him at the bottom. This was the end of their friendship how it had been, no matter what the outcome was. But he didn't let it stop him, he just looked directly into Steve's eyes and plunged on.

"I never wanted to step out with any dame as much as I wanted to step out with you. You've always been my best guy, Steve, and I'm goddamn angry that it took ninety years to know you felt the same way."

There were too many emotions for the span of thirty seconds and even someone with a constitution like Steve Rogers' could barely function for a few moments. He went from scared, remorseful and trying to eek out just a little bit of self worth from all of this despite being about to lose the only person that mattered to him to relieved that Bucky still loved him after all to whiplash in straight on through the notion that it was more than just a brotherly love being bantered about and Bucky actually loved him.

"What?" No, his hearing hadn't failed him. Yes, his foot had actually slid back as if he'd been hit and was catching himself from falling. His heart felt like it gave out somewhere along the way too and it was just too much for him.

He was eighteen years old again, left an orphan by his mother, and Bucky was sitting on the couch with a hand on his thigh kissing him. It was all real. The Night That Never Happened had happened. The lonely moments of feeling wrong and dirty when Steve drew terrible things instead of touched himself were so much less lonely now knowing that they were shared.

But that didn't mean that Steve was ready to hear any of this. "What?"

He should have been punched by now.

The look on Steve's face made Bucky's heart falter for a moment, because he looked whey and horrified as if Bucky had completely misread the situation. Had he? No-- No, Steve had all but admitted it, he knew what the truth was and he couldn't let himself second guess now, it was way too late for that.

So he stepped forwards to follow where Steve had nearly fallen flat on his ass and pinned him to the wall to press a sudden and insistent kiss to his lips. This was no chaste kiss, it was desperate and passionate and full of affection, but it only lasted for a few seconds.

"You heard me, Steve. I'm putting it out there, no more hiding. When you figure out what you want, let me know."

Of the less than a handful of times that Steve had been kissed. He could name all of them and aside for one kiss with a very pushy blonde, they had all been pretty meaningful to him. The press of a chest against his own and the tug downward left him breathless, but his hands hand remained helpless against the wall behind him. He wanted to reciprocate but Bucky was already pulling away from him. Steve couldn't let that happen. He reached forward to grasp Bucky's wrist, the metal one, but it didn't matter and whatever he was about to say was drowned out by Tony Stark announcing everyone to put on their seat belts and put their tray tables up,

The blond laughed, bashful, a blush across his cheeks and nose, and let his fingers slip down to the palm of Bucky's hand. He knew he could feel it, even if it wasn't flesh. He could feel how gentle Steve's touch was and how respectful it was trying to be.

"Let me try that one again. I just-- I want to make sure that this is really what you want and you're not just telling me everything I've wanted to hear since... Since we were sixteen." There was an earnestness in his eyes that very few people ever had. "And-- And I might need you to pinch me. And... And maybe try that again?"

"Only sixteen?"

Bucky grinned and right there it was like the old Bucky shining through, all charming lopsided smile and intense blue eyes. He didn't try to pull his hand away from Steve, projecting an aura of confidence as if this was exactly what he planned and he wasn't also terrified.

"I've wanted this since I was about twelve. I can remember-- you know that Sunday school we used to go to? I still had a squeaky voice and I asked Miss Henderson why two guys shouldn't love each other and she made me say fifty Hail Marys. Steve, you've always been my best guy, so don't-- don't say you want it unless you're all in."

Twelve? Steve wasn't flabbergasted, but he sure was close to it right now, eyes shimmering as his grip on Bucky's hand became tighter. "I remember saying half of those Hail Marys for you so we could catch the last half of the Dodgers game." He and Bucky sat really close that day, shoulders and knees touching as they shared some candy. Steve never really thought about it, but he remembered the whole thing with such clarity.

"I--"

"Anyone born better the nineteen-twenties, consider this your special invitation to join us," Tony interrupted over the loud speaker, though Steve ignored it and instead lifted his other hand to brush Bucky's cheek with his knuckles.

"I'm all in," Steve promised, backside still against the wall as he drew Bucky back in towards him. He might have spent his late teens and early twenties focused solely on fighting for his country and planning to have a wife so he could be considered normal when Bucky had a bunch of kids with his own wife, but there was never a time that Steve wouldn't want to be with Bucky whole heartedly in any way he could be.

Bucky might have always had his charm, but Steve had the mischievous streak and that was what he needed to pull Bucky back into his arms to kiss him with a breathier sigh that he had kissed Peggy Carter during that chase.

Luckily, this wasn't a lot like dancing. Steve didn't step on any toes. He just closed his eyes and felt is way through it.

"Steven. G. Rogers. Are they ignoring me? They're ignoring me, aren't they?"

"No one blames them, Stark," Barton's voice said before Tony took his finger off of the comm.

He remembers that, he had added on an extra Hail Mary on his end to apologise for lying to Steve about why he had been given them in the first place. He told his younger friend that it had been because he fell asleep in his Sunday school scripture one on one, already ashamed of what he felt inside. But it had been as he got older that the shame really sunk in.

It had been illegal; more than that, men who were found to be like that caused more shame to their families than even people who went to jail for things like theft or getting in a fight. At least those were manly crimes, being found to have perverted urges for another man was a sickness, people went into mental hospitals for treatment for it, and so he had buried it.

Even now, with Steve's lips pressed against his own, a part of him was almost sure they were going to get arrested and dragged up before someone to be punished. But then-- he didn't care. He had been punished so much that one more wouldn't kill him, and at least he would get to have this memory.

"...Steve," it was a murmur against his lips. "Do you-- do you want to keep this for us?"

He wasn't ashamed, but he knew that Steve had an image to maintain, especially if Captain America was going to be the leader of the new world. He'd understand if Steve wanted this to be clandestine, secret, though he would find it hard to keep his hands off now that he'd had a taste.

"You don't want to go steady?" Steve immediately misunderstood, which had to be part of his charm because otherwise, Bucky would have left him in the dust a long time ago. He wasn't sure if Bucky wanted more freedom now that he remembered who he was or if he wanted to still find a dame in the end and have those hundreds of kids that would all be beautiful and kind-- "I don't want to share."

He might as well be up front about that. He still had Bucky in his arms, one hand curled against the small of his back and the other at his shoulder because Steve wasn't really sure what role he was supposed to be taking. The last time anything like this had happened, Bucky had been all over him and Steve felt a little like he was along for the ride.

Not that he believed Bucky forced him into anything, he'd wanted to be touched so badly-- But now...now, he sort of towered over his friend and it felt better to be the one leading the dance lesson.

The skiff jolted under their feet. They had landed, and that meant that they had a duty to do. Steve sighed and dropped his hands. "Let's pick this back up tonight."

Bucky didn't want to pick it back up that night, he had waited for decades to have this conversation and he had lived through a hell worse than he had ever imagined to get to this place. He knew that they had a duty to do, but that duty could wait another five minutes, damn it.

"Steve, no."

He reached out and caught hold of Steve again, not allowing the slightly taller man to back away from him. Instead, it was his turn to rest his hand on Steve's lower back, the other one on his hip.

"I just don't want you to be compromised by me. There's nobody else, and if you want to shout it to everyone, then sign me up for the first megaphone."

It wasn't exactly fast for Steve, he could catch anything, but the whole thing of going from a shameful little secret to suddenly having what he'd wanted for half his life and then telling the world about it? "Let me-- I don't need to think about it, Buck," he chuckled. "I just want to wrap my head around it first. Right now, I've got some work to do. And after that... Teach me to kiss a little better and then we'll see about the megaphones."

He was just shy. If Bucky had been a woman (or if he had been Peggy) he would feel the same way.

"Can this just be ours while we feel it out?" He sort of wanted to just spence whole day kissing now that he could but that wasn't about to happen. They'd be found any moment now by a flamboyant engineer.

"Yeah."

Though he had said that he would sign up for the first megaphone, there was obviously a hint of relief in Bucky's eyes. He wanted this to just be his for a while, something precious to savour after years of only pain. He wanted to feel out how to be himself, let alone how to be himself in a relationship, and make sure they were rock steady before they let the world in.

So with one last little kiss, he stepped back and made himself look presentable again.

"It's just ours, Steve, so-- let's go save the world." He slipped out of the doorway just in time to nearly collide with Tony coming the other way. "Hey, watch it, we're men on a mission here."

Iowa, with it's rolling grassland and flat, even pastures, just a single house visible on the horizon, Bruce proclaimed that the area was relatively safe. The majority of the radiation hadn't spread to this part of the country and there were still plenty of heat signatures in America's heartland.

So after Tony made a comment about having to see why the loud spears in the living quarters weren't working, he joined everyone but Banner on the prairie. Clint had given them these particular coordinates and he was off first, stalking through tall wheat towards the quaint little house that stood out against the orange, post-dawn sky. He started running once they came out of the field and Steve and Bucky glanced at one another and took off after him, keeping pace with the slower, unpowered human.

Stark took up the rear, panting as the trio reached the wooden porch. A door swung open and a tiny woman and two kids poured out to crush Clint in their arms.

"You're--" Pant pant. "Married. Coulda just..." Pant pant. "Told us. Shit. Water anyone?"

Bucky kept scanning the surroundings as they approached the farm house, more concerned about looters or people looking for a safe place to stay rather than anything else. The world had all but ended, that tended to make people behave in ways that they might not normally hold with, but it seemed like they were on their own for now.

Laura slammed into Clint hard enough to knock him over, and the two kids piled right on top as well, all three of them sobbing. She had honestly not thought to see him again, though Agent Coulson had been good to them in keeping them safe, and to have him here...

"How? How did you-- Thank God."

Bucky reached out to put a hand on Tony's shoulder as he approached, shaking his head.

"Private moment, Tony, let it be."

"No problem. I'll just die right here." He sat down on the lowest step, back to the happy couple and their kids. They weren't alone, though. Coulson had done more than just made sure that one of his agents' families were safe... He'd set up this entire farm a few years back with Clint's job in mind. And Barton had done a lot to fortify it after. Their farm set on acres of private, hidden property surrounded by electrified fences and grove walls. It might be one of the safest places left in the whole country at this rate.

A bunch of other curious faces appeared in the window and the doorway. Most of them were women and children, but there were a few older teens and men too.

Steve stood to the side with Bucky, arms crossed over his chest, and scanned the farm. "Reminds me of France," he said, squinting as the sun rose over the building.

After Tony designated himself to go back and get Bruce for dinner with the refuges on Clint's land, they got a little more of the post-Asgardian story. It was mostly a long list of obituaries of people that Clint knew but the others didn't. "What about Pepper Potts? Or James Rhodes...?"

No one knew. The people that might have, Coulson and Fury, they were presumed dead. Just like the men sitting with them now had been assumed dead too.

Except, perhaps, for Steve.

"What happened, Captain?" A teenager with angry brown eyes and plastered down, dark hair in a hoodie asked suddenly, as dishes were cleared away and dessert brought out. "I was in New York. I was watching TV. You were there, gathering people up. Is that why you're here now?"

"Luke--"

"NO! Someone has to ask! Everyone is being nice to him but we all know Captain America was in on it!"

"Son, you've got it wrong, that wasn't--"

"I'm not your damned son!"

Bucky was pleased to see this sort of safe zone in place, it might provide a halfway place for people to stay while the skiff transported parties of survivors to the new moon if they wouldn't all fit on the first journey. But he was less pleased when the refugees started talking like Steve was the one to blame for all of this.

"If you want answers, you need to shut up and listen for them."

His voice wasn't loud, it rarely rose above a low rumble now, but it was firm and commanding. His whole presence probably helped, even seated on the grass there was no mistaking that Bucky was a predator.

"These people came from another reality, one where there were alternate versions of ourselves. Steve has been a captive, same as everyone else who was taken, he can't help someone else with his face worked for them."

His eyes dared the kid to call that story a lie.

"But nobody's forcing you to believe us or come with us. Stay here, it's your life."

Steve could stick up for himself, but in this case, it was better that someone else do it for him. His word was no good right now, and he wondered if it was wise to have bothered with getting the uniform. Steve immediately took that back, though. Of course it was. Bucky took the sketchbook and that had been the only reason that they'd gotten together. He needed to tough this one out and was about to say something when Tony Stark of all people cleared his throat and stood up.

"We were captive together. Barton, Rogers and I. Barnes was in the cage next to us. He wasn't the only one with a double. Thor, even Bruce over here. Me." All eyes were on him and that was where Tony was most comfortable, being in the spot light. He moved slowly, walking behind where Steve sat, his hands in his pockets. The angry kid was just scared. Tony could see that. He made a grand gesture of rolling his eyes over Bucky's shoulder. "No one is leaving anyone if we can help it, okay? Cool your jets, Barnes. This is just our first stop. There's people dotted all over the Midwest and then we're heading up to Canada. We have a safe place to take you before we go to rescue the other people that were taken."

The group murmured between each other, but the boy just stalked off. Normally Steve would follow him, to see if he was all right, but he was pretty sure that he wouldn't want to see him.

"Are you going to rescue everyone then? Is that the plan?" A foreigner with dark skin and a soft, British accent asked. He worked for SHiELD and was part of the team sent with Natasha Romanoff to collect Bruce from Calcutta. He was one of the few that made it off of the hellicarrier.

"Sure gonna try. But that means we can't linger. Everything you can carry needs to go on the skiff and then we need to go. Sorry for the lack of reunion but we're on a schedule, folks," Tony said.

A whisper went around some of the group like wind through rushes, of those that had heard the name Barnes and put it together with who this must be. Bucky Barnes wasn't quite as well known as Captain America himself, but he wasn't far behind, if only because he was always mentioned when the first was brought up. Best friend, war hero, deceased in action.

That, if nothing else, helped give credence to the story. They assumed that this must be an alternate Bucky who had never died and had come back to stand at the shoulder of his oldest friend again. It was almost a shame the history classes weren't running in the end of the world, as they'd have a field day with this sort of thing.

"He's right," said Bucky, stretching to his feet and starting off after the kid that had stalked off. "Everyone has thirty minutes to get whatever supplies they need or want, nobody brings more than one backpack worth on board for space. Go."

A few of the people stood staring, before Steve reiterated the order in slightly kinder tones, and Clint chivvied his family into the barn to get their things, unwilling to release any of them from his sight for a while. Bucky let them get on with it, easily tracking the dark-skinned teenager down.

"You're scared, but we don't need aggression right now. We have to work together, so grow up."

Leaning down over Steve's shoulder, Tony couldn't help but notice: "He's really not so great with the pep talks yet, huh? Okay, everyone, let me help out. We have a lot of things already so let's just take essentials like cell phones and as much jewelry as you can wear." What? He might need the metals.

The SHIELD agent left, beside Clint, re-introduced himself to Bruce as Mohinder Suresh, in Tamil, a slow smile on his face, easy and accepting. Tony didn't really like that sort of fraternation with his new best friend, but he had a few kids on his arms, full of germs and stickiness, but it was probably better than any hot women he might encounter.

He wasn't sure what to do with himself around women. At least the ones here all seemed to have other priorities that did not include flirting.

Upstairs, in one of the hall closets, the sixteen year in the hoodie was almost shaking with anger and fear. He felt himself almost lucky to be here, really. He'd been traveling with an older man, a serial killer, not that he told anyone that, whom he had come to idolize before he dropped him off in an anabdoned dinner in the middle of close to here. That dude was probably alive somewhere, Luke had seen him get shot like it was nothing. Or maybe the aliens got him.It would serve that bastard right.

When Bucky startled him, Luke almost gave himself away, hand raised and muddy eyes hate filled for just a moment before he sunk back into himself.

"What?"

Bucky kept his eyes open as he crept through the house, looking for anything that might be useful to take with them, but his attention was primarily on the teenager locked in his own fear and the lashing out that seemed to be how he dealt with it. It wasn't the most charitable thought, but Bucky would genuinely leave him here if he seemed too much of a troublemaker, they were going to have enough issues on the new world without bringing along someone who could incite fighting.

"I told you to grow up."

He repeated himself without shame, leaning against the door jamb to give Luke his space while they talked.

"You're scared, I get it, but we don't have time for this posturing and aggression. We're trying to rescue humanity and set up a new home, that's bigger than what's happened to all of us."

"How'd you feel if this guy you saw rounding people up like cattle suddenly showed up at the first safe place you've been in awhile and suddenly wants to take you on board an alien ship...the same kind he was herding people onto just a few months ago? You want me to grow up? This has nothing to do with that, man. It's just fucking fishy. But so are you. And so is Stark...and Laura's husband? Shit. Why you guys? Huh? Why not a few regular people other than the doctor?"

At least Bruce's secret was still safe, it seemed.

"You're... We just learned about you in history class, dude. You died, really died. But now you're saying you didn't? Maybe you should grow up and take a look at how this all plays out on people. I want to stay alive here. I don't want aliens to eat me. I'm trying to protect myself. Jesus Fucking Christ!"

He understood that it was confusing and worrying and frightening, but everyone was in the same boat and they just didn't have time to coddle anyone giving into those feelings. Bucky didn't flinch in the face of the accusations or the cursing, only folding his arms over his chest, the metal one catching the light.

"Then you can stay here."

Bucky shrugged.

"We're not here to kidnap anyone against their will, but think hard on if that's what you want, because when we go then we're not coming back. Your decision is the final, you understand that?"

Perhaps emphasising that they weren't about to force anyone to come along would do the trick, they were different from those that had come before.

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