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Loki was not injured physically, but his pride felt a little ruffled. Though no Midgardian shooter could hurt them, that there was one positioned and had actually shot at them seemed an ill omen. He tilted his head in the direction that the shot had come from and then glanced down to where his brother was tending the fallen Stark.

"It seems the shot was unexpected, and so the shooter may well be an enemy in truth rather than a vicious jest. I will seek out the culprit and bring them to your feet."

A glow of green surrounded him and he disappeared.

...just in time for the message to reach the ship that they were to be given hospitality and a swarm of Asgardians to begin trooping onto the roof from the lowered gangplank, along with other creatures and the Hulk, huge and green in amongst them.

“Oh my god, today sucks,” Tony said as Thor pretty much lifted him to his feet. Loki was going to find a way to trigger James. His only friend was going to hate him for suddenly having a few thousand people in the Tower. There was no Banner, only Hulk. And the once quiet tower was soon filled to the brim by Asgardians and rowdy aliens of several species that Tony had never known before.

Any other day, he might have been amused. But he’d only just talked James down from the ledge. His luck was shit. He was exhausted. The voices were having a merry time and all he wanted was a drink.

“Thor, I need you to get your brother to leave everyone alone. I can’t do it today,” Tony said, and Thor, who had indeed grown up since the last time he saw him, put a hand to Tony’s shoulder.

“My concern for you is real. I will be mindful of your fragile state and warn the others to steer clear from your path until your health improves. Thank you again for your hospitality. I will be ordering many cheese and meat disks to satisfy our hunger. I require use of your small plastic rectangle.”

Tony didn’t fight him on that. He told FRIDAY to put in orders from as many pizza shops as she could and to stagger the delivery. And after that, he left Thor to his own devices and ran off to his workshop. Hopefully James would be there before Loki could find him and ruin their lives.

Any other time and Tony might go to greet the Hulk but not today.

Whatever Bruce may have feared, he was not lost to the Hulk.

The sight of Tony stirred something in him, a friend that he had been worried that he had lost for good. The sight of his pain, of his panic, of him fleeing from company. It gave him the strength to fight back against the monster that shared his skin and shrink from his green form back down to his human one. It was strange, even when doing so, to find himself surrounded by admirers. The Asgardians and their friends valued him for his strength, and for his help, regardless of his form.

He jogged after Tony, with a strip of cloth hastily wound around his waist and held there to keep his modesty in check, and called out to him before he could go into any locked areas.

"Tony! Hey-- Tony, wait!"

“FRIDAY, seal off—” Tony half fell into a door that was closing as he turned quickly, the voice calling his name making his eyes widen and his forward trajectory cease all together. “Ignore that,” he said, watching Bruce stumble after him. He was certainly a sight, cleaned up, hair cropped as closely as Thor’s, much of the scruff on his chest gone, and somehow more…muscular? Tony took him in for a moment as they stood at either side of the door leading to Tony’s workshop.

While Bruce looked fantastic, sound of mind and body and not the worse for wear despite evidently being the Hulk (Tony remembered a man left shivering with music playing in headphones to help him calm down post transformation) just moments ago, Tony himself looked horrible. There were circles under his eyes. That flash of silver at his temples had grown up into his hair. He seemed almost twitchy, like a drug addict (or a man in the middle of a hangover). His clothing was weirdly dusty and he looked unkempt. The shine behind his eyes was nothing short of manic.

“You’re really…really late.”

Tony was wrong to think that he was not worse the wear for being the Hulk, he would still have his moment later on to freak out that he was losing himself too rapidly and the day that he would never return was approaching. But he knew that he had to fend that off for now and see what the hell had happened to his friend while he had been gone.

"Yeah," he smiled, sheepish, and scrubbed a hand over his head. "Not really to plan. I was the Hulk for a long time and it's a really long story. But hey-- better late than never, right?"

He always knew that Tony had an issue with drink, but with how much he had aged and how awful he looked, it seemed as if he must have fallen into full on alcoholism.

The sad truth of the matter was that just a day ago, Tony looked all right. He’d been pretty happy with having James around, happy for someone to help with his projects or to play games with him, happy to go back to a more carefree and less stressed lifestyle. But everything had started up again all at once and he was currently the portrait of a man who was no longer hanging all the way on.

It was amazing what two hours and some change could do to a person.

“That’s probably the best excuse I’ve heard for going missing for two years. ‘Sorry I couldn’t send you a birthday card. I was the Hulk.’ Think I could get away with that one?” He wasn’t mocking Bruce, he was just feeling very tired about the entire thing. “I looked just about everywhere on earth for you. I wish I’d known to check Asgard. That would have saved me a lot of time and energy. What did you do with that quintet you stole? My favorite shirt was in there.”

"I wasn't in Asgard. Or... I was, but only for the last couple of days, I was somewhere else before that. I can't even really tell you the name of it, it was all Hulk until Thor showed up. The quinjet is there, it's broken, and your shirt-- I had to borrow it and then it got ripped off in the transformation."

There was something very tired behind brown eyes, but he was careful not to let it show too much when Tony was on edge.

"I'm sorry that I was gone for so long, and I'm sorry that we've all descended on you now, it's not fair. It's just been-- well, kind of crazy."

“Crazy’s a really great way to put everything.” He hadn’t moved from the doorway, as if he didn’t want anyone to follow him into the workshop. The last time Bruce had been in here with him, they were working around the clock to build and program Ultron, to put a suit of armor around the entire world. There were a lot of things that Tony had done that he wasn’t proud of, but pulling Bruce into what ended up being a really terrible idea made him feel even worse. Letting the other man back into that place… It felt wrong. “It’s been crazy here too. Less space aliens, but with the Chitari black market going strong, it’s still pretty space alieny. Well, extra now with a side of weird. Is one of those people out there a giant bug or hairless mole? Wow. I wonder what fumigating the Tower is going to cost.”

Yes, he was rambling, maybe even stalling, and he wasn’t quite sure how much sense he was making because the Loki chant going on in his head, surround sound with HD speakers, was making it pretty hard to follow along.

“I’m also pretty upset about my shirt, Banner. Just because we wear the same size doesn’t mean you can just raid my closet whenever it suits you. But maybe you should actually…you’re not really appropriately dressed.”

"Uh, yeah, some clothes would probably be a good idea sooner rather than later. But listen, Tony, I heard what you said about being retired now."

There was something pained in his face. He had wanted to come back and rejoin his friends where he was welcome, and Tony was a big part of that. It had been Tony that taught him how to stand tall and use the Hulk to the advantage of the team, at least as best he could, and without Tony then he didn't think he wanted to be on the team.

"Why-- what happened?"

There was so much going on here that he didn't know. Unless Tony had retired because of Ultron? But surely not, that had been two years ago now, the others would have made him reconsider before now.

Yes, actually, Tony had retired because of Ultron. He’d tried not to meddle too much before that, he’d tried not to get too involved with the armor and the vigilante heroic justice. His suits had become a lot more three-piece instead of gold-titanium alloy. He’d been happy like that, for awhile. And Pepper had too. There had been many reasons to retire at that point. He’d not quite been at his lowest, but he was on his way there.

“So let’s see. That piece of legislation I tried to sponsor ended up splitting up the team. Cap walked out, became a fugitive again for aiding and abetting a terrorist though, spoiler alert Banner, everyone’s been cleared of wrong doing since then. We tried to kill each other, he gave up the shield and went to Wakanda to play in the Vibranium mines. You guys picked a good day to come back, though, so that’s a big plus. All of the prodigal sons and daughters are on their way home. Rogers called for Avengers to Assemble. Sure, we have a lot to work through, but I’m going to the party. I’m funding it after all. Have the press coming. Thor’ll be popular for Halloween again if people see he’s back.”

He left some details out for a good reason. He had no reason, whatsoever, to go dumpster diving in his past for this guy. Tony was feeling a little too vulnerable for that right now.

“It’s been a hard few months, Bruce.” That might be all that the scientist got from Tony as a way of letting his guard down right now. “And I kind of wish you weren’t out of cell reception. Hey FRIDAY? Get DUM-E to bring up Banner’s stuff from storage and stick it in his old room downstairs. As much as I like looking at his hairy legs, it’s pretty drafty here.”

There was a heck of a lot there to try and unpack in a few sentences, and probably even more besides since he knew that Tony was terrible for getting straight answers out of, like drawing blood from a stone. He was exhausted himself and needed to spend a while in meditation to try and anchor himself into his body, to try and goddamn work through what had happened in the last couple of years, so he couldn't do this yet.

But he also didn't want to just abandon Tony and let it go, he knew from experience that this was the fastest way to get a grumpy engineer who locked himself in his lab and refused to see anyone.

"Okay-- okay, I can go and get dressed, take a shower. But would you have dinner with me later so that we can catch up properly? I really want to hear it all, and figure out if I need to be taking retirement too."

He said that last bit with a crooked tiny smile to take the sting out of it, but he really didn't know if he'd want to be an Avenger without Tony there. The man might be impossible, but he was his best friend.

Dinner. With Bruce Banner. That momentarily felt significant and the mess he was dealing with having Loki chanted in his brain subsided for a moment. The relief was wonderful. “I hope you still like Indian,” he said without thinking. “I’m going to order from that place on the corner.”

He didn’t let Bruce say anything, he just stepped further back behind the door.

“Three hours. Dining room upstairs. No aliens invited.” The door shut and Tony watched Bruce oddly for a moment before he turned down the hall and around the corner, out of sight through the glass.

He already knew what Bruce would want to eat, somehow. He didn’t question it. He just put in the order and held his breath, waiting for another shoe to drop.

Something would keep him from that dinner. Probably James. Maybe Loki. Tony cracked his own neck and then poured himself a drink.

Sometimes he wished he could just be normal.

Tony Stark hadn't been a normal person since the day he was born, there was no reason why he would be allowed to live a normal life now. He would get as far as pouring the drink, but then the glass would explode all of a sudden in his hand, shards of it and amber liquid going everywhere.

It would be hard to tell what had happened, but a knife embedded in the wall might clue him in that someone had decided his drinking habits weren't to be allowed. Despite the well-lit lab room and the lack of places to hide, it would still be hard to spot where James had secluded himself.

He was up on top of one of the cabinets, squashed between the top of it and the ceiling, hunched back into the shadows watching out of cold eyes. He looked like the Soldier again, very little human about his expression.

Tony pressed his lips together after he managed not to completely bug out by another projectile flying at him, made sure to see who it was that was attacking him now, and turned away from James to hastily grab another glass. “If you do that again...”. Well what could be threaten with? Tony set the glass down and swept the broken shards of the first into the trash can beside his workstation. His hands clutches st the edge of the table and his head bowed between his shoulders as he leaned forward on one foot.

He had nothing to say right now, for once, glad as he actually was to see James here, to know he was safe. They had to work on their communication.

Maybe part of Tony, recklessly, was hoping that James might take a shot and bury s knife inside his skull next, but that didn’t happen. The chanting didn’t stop, though, so Tony had FRIDAY turn on some metal before he headed to a couch in the corner, scattered with projects and tune ups that needed to be pushed aside.

James didn't speak for a long time, he just stayed on his perch high up in the room and watched as the music went on and Tony went to flop onto the couch, to look at his various projects ready to be finished or, at least, continued. It was another hour before he crept down from his place atop the cabinet and approached slowly, voice a murmur of Russian that might or might not be loud enough to hear over the music.

"I need you to be human."

Despite the Russian and the blankness of his expression, the words were oddly pleading and vulnerable.

"You're the only one I trust, you can't drown everything of yourself in alcohol. I need you to be strong for me. I'm sorry, I know it's selfish, but please."

“English,” Tony shouted, though he understood what James had said. He’d gotten pretty good with Russian despite his insistence on both of their first languages to be spoken here when they were together. Tony rubbed at his temple, tried to massage away the thoughts and the feelings he couldn’t rectify. The little voices that were sometimes helpful to predict what would happen and sometimes just little assholes trying to drive him mad, never eased when he did it himself. Tony tossed some things to the floor and, turning off the music, gestured for James to sit.

His lap would be filled with the engineer’s head the moment he did, if he did, and like a true brat, Tony would insist, physically placing James’s hands onto his head if need be, that the other man rub his scalp to ease the haunting little whispers. The ones who told him not to be afraid of Loki. That they belonged together. It was pretty messed up.

“I’m more human than you are right now,” Tony grumbled. “I don’t expect you to understand that genius has a price, though. But I do need for you to stop attempting to kill people. Even if you think I want you to.”

James allowed Tony to push him to the couch and then pull his hands up to stroke through his hair and massage his scalp. It was a duty paid so many times during his teenage years to help quiet these voices when they got too loud, a price indeed for genius. But it made him more human, and James had seen the glimmer of potential for how great that man could be if he didn't self destruct.

"I lose myself when I fight."

Despite the request, James stayed in Russian. His head was too messed up to try and find the words in English at the moment and, despite it being his mother tongue, it felt like a second language a lot these days.

"But if I don't fight, then what am I?"

Bending his knees, Tony put his feet up on the wall and closed his eyes. It had been a long time since he’d had the whispers quieted this way, but it worked like a charm now as it had always done then. Thoughts of Loki and Bruce left him and Tony pressed himself more thoroughly and comfortably against James. He didn’t care for a moment of it was weird or not when it brought such needed relief.

“English,” he said again, and would every time James spoke. He could be a broken record as well as anyone else. James needed to get into the swing of it. He was disassociating and the only way to stop was to find a common ground between what he was feeling and who he truly was.

Tony didn’t reply further for a few minutes, simply enjoying the way it felt for James to rub the stress and worry out of his head.

“I’ve got an idea,” he murmured after a minute. “How about you stop trying to figure out who and what you are and you just go with the first thing in your head for a little while? Stop thinking about how the Soldier or Bucky might react. Just so you. And if you want to speak Russian... Fine. My head’s clearing up anyway. You wanted to know what you are without fighting right? How about you stop fighting and see?”

James focused almost exclusively on the feel of his fingers against Tony's head, gentle pressure in concentric circles with both flesh and metal, a practised motion that he had honed over many years. It was-- oddly soothing for him too, to know that he was actually the one helping instead of hurting for once.

It was a good idea, though it took a while to sink through the scattered static of what his mind had become, and he did stick to Russian because that was what tripped off his tongue without him having to think about it.

"Then I need you to stop drinking. Find out who you are without that, and maybe there'll be enough of a person between us to make one whole one."

“You know it gets too bad if I don’t,” Tony said, eyelashes fluttering on his cheeks. He didn’t correct the language use this time because James had obviously decided that he preferred it. Tony wasn’t going to judge. It wasn’t a crutch for him, and right now it wasn’t a reminder either. It was just a choice and to James, every choice he made on his own, regardless of consequences in the long one, was a good and important thing.

Tony’s shoulders slowly relaxed into the couch, into Bucky, and his breathing slowed and evened. He could and as a child, he often had fallen asleep this way but Tony had no intention of giving into that right now.

“And that’s without the withdraws.”

But Tony knew he wasn’t really convincing James here. He had to stop drinking but then he had to find a way to still the constant churn of thought in his head.

“How do you feel about heroine?”

James wasn't going to force Tony to give up drinking, or not to take up another substance in its place; choice was such an important thing to him, that he would be a massive hypocrite if he took that choice away from someone else even if they were self destructing in doing it.

"I'd be here for the withdrawals, and I can help when it gets too loud."

The offer was tentatively made. He knew that he didn't exactly have a reputation of being reliably around, and that he was asking Tony to do something incredibly hard in stopping drinking altogether and put a hell of a lot of trust into James to be able to help in a healthier way.

"I want to. I care about you, I don't want you lose you."

At least one of the benefits of the Soldier, if there could be called any benefits to it, was that he didn't have an emotional filter. Nothing that told him to be ashamed about just spilling his sentiment everywhere.

Pepper had cared about him too but look where that got him. He’d gotten sober for her and instead, taken to constantly building new and more complex suits of armor. She left him for that, in the end, and much more quickly than she would have done with the drinking. She could be around him when he drank. He was pleasant. Frisky. Affectionate. The alcohol was actually doable in the end where the other options were not. And Tony wondered if James was just going to find that out too and go.

There were no whispers now to correct or confirm his theories. They had died away, little buzzes like the radio connected to a loudspeaker left on. Easily ignored.

Tony reached up to wrap his finger two fingers around Bucky’s metal wrist before his hand, with gravity’s help, moved those fingers downward to stop at the junction of his elbow, where they rested.

“All right. No drinking. But only if you’re here to stop it when it’s too loud. All promises are null and void if you skip out on me,” Tony said.

That seemed like a fair arrangement to him, he couldn't expect Tony to be strong and hold up his end of the agreement if James didn't hold up his end too. So he nodded, and then leaned forwards and, perfectly naturally without any self consciousness, kissed Tony on the forehead.

"I'm going to stay in the locked levels, I don't want anyone else to know that I'm here."

"Those levels are the top six floors of the Tower," FRIDAY put in helpfully, deciding that her master might need her input in order to not wreck this. "Might I suggest, Boss, setting aside a room for Sergeant Barnes--"

"--James."

"--for James' personal use, as well as a budget to decorate and acquire new clothing?"

Closed eyes opened immediately, not because Tony was uncomfortable or confused, but because the Soldier used to kiss his forehead sometimes, and then pull back stiffly as if confused for what he’d done. There was not any of that herky-jerky movement today. James had kissed him and then moved back again to continue to rub his scalp. The whole moment had come and gone in a second and Tony wasn’t sure it had happened when it ended.

He watched James for a moment, one eyebrow lifted, until he spoke again.

“Good. Me and you upstairs. Insanity downstairs.” And luckily, Banner’s room was on the ninth floor where the rest of the Avengers used to live before they all transferred to the compound upstate. That would keep everyone separated nicely. “Uh-- No budget, give him access to the guest account. No WMDs, all right? Restrict all weapons purchase-- Not that I don’t trust you, Jim…but I’m out of the weapons business and I don’t need old contacts popping up because you’re window shopping.”

There were some things about his old life that he really didn’t like, after all.

He stayed snuggled up to his old Nanny for another hour or so before he went to shower and change for dinner. He picked up the order himself, smirking at the delivery boy who was freaking out, gave him a large tip, and shut the door in his face. He had all of Bruce’s favorites, spiced the way he liked them, when he knocked on Banner’s (fortunately) opaque door. “Yo Banner. Or Hulk. Hopefully Banner. I didn’t bring enough to eat for the other guy.”

James made sure to make Tony aware that he was to be James and not Jim, he had chosen that name specifically and he had enough troubles with his own identity to accept nicknames at the moment. Maybe it went against what Tony's natural instincts were regarding naming other people random things, but he asked that this was respected.

Only after Tony had left did he let FRIDAY direct him to the suite of rooms that was to be his and begin, with her help, to work out how to customise them. Make them personal, make them his.

Bruce was still reeling from the oddness of the last few days when Tony arrived, but at least he was dressed in his own clothes again and had damp curls around his face when he answered the door.

"Hey-- wow, that smells good, I feel like I haven't eaten in months. Come in, sit down, let's talk."

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