fossilised | it's a new plot!

If Tony could shoot that blond agent again, he would. Why couldn’t this be like a vampire thing? Kill the head vampire and all the rest just go back to normal?

Oh right. Because this shit show was reality and reality was never nice and cut and dry.

They had soup. They watched James mechanically eat the soup. They played cards. They tried to carry on some lively banter, but it was depressing. Even if James did win all of their sugar cubes.

Tony ended up leaning back against the chair as night obscured the ocean from view and then pushed away from the table.

“I’m going to take a shower.” Or run away to think and pout and blame the world. Maybe a little of both. And that left Steve sitting at the table with a barely responsible shell of a best friend and his own guilty conscious.

“I thought you died,” he said, softly. “So I never looked for you. But I saw the tapes. I know you waited for me. And I can’t make it up to you. I don’t know how.”

They might not think that they were helping, but deep inside the Soldier there were pieces of ice cracking off the longer the three of them sat together playing poker. Strange that he hadn't needed the rules explaining, nor to be told how to bluff. But he wasn't fun to play with, he never spoke unless it was to request a card or state if he called or raised a bet.

He watched his handler go until he was out of sight and then tilted his eyes back to the blond man as he began to talk - to Steve. Though almost at once he set his eyes down on the table again, something about looking into those blue eyes hurt him, like they were weapons somehow.

"Do you need me for anything, sir?"

He didn't want to hear these apologies, he wanted to go, though that was bad in of of itself, he shouldn't want anything.

It wasn’t the first time Buck called him sir. He’d outranked his friend, after all. Sir was protocol. Sir was expected. But neither were active members of the US Army. They were back to being civilians and as such, rank didn’t matter at all. In many, many ways, Steve was surprised that Bucky spoke to him at all. He’d not been vocal unless they asked him a direct question. He never asked questions himself.

But Steve didn’t get his hopes up. Maybe it was protocol to ask for orders if he was just given statements that weren’t orders. Those notebooks would shed a lot of light on the situation, but Tony hadn’t handed them over yet and Steve didn’t know if he’d even have to heart (or the time) to delve into them.

The question made him sigh, though. “Yeah, pal. I do. I need you for a lot of things.” He pressed his face against his palm before he dropped it back to the table. He didn’t get to be upset here. “I thought we’d been to the end of the line a few times now, but it hasn’t happened. We’re hard to kill, aren’t we? So I’m okay just waiting here until you figure it all out. Do you need me for anything?”

Edited 2017-12-03 16:55 (UTC)

The end of the line.

Those words hit him like bullets, knocking the air out of him more effectively than most weapons could, and his eyes widened. Something akin to fear flashed across his face and he stood up so quickly that his chair clattered back onto the ground, a loud noise after an evening of deliberate quiet.

Why those words had got to him he didn't know, other than his head was suddenly pounding and he had an urgent need to get away. But he hadn't been given permission to leave by his handler, and so he was in a difficult situation. He ended up stood in the middle of the room, body so tense that minute shivers ran through him every few seconds, and an expression on his face like a hunted animal.

“Tony!”

Steve didn’t play around. He’d done something or Bucky had remembered something, but either way, it didn’t matter at all because the guy was acting like he’d just been stabbed, or like he was about to pounce. That hadn’t been Steve’s intention and he backed away slowly until he was at the base of the stairs.

Tony appeared at the top in a bathrobe that was cut a little too short from Steve’s old fashioned experience and he came down the thin pile carpet in bare feet. “What did—“

He didn’t have to finish asking. Not when it was all so obvious.

Tony exhaled slowly but approached the man in the center of the room like he might any man. He did not show fear, but then again, he wasn’t even remotely afraid either.

“James?” He was just testing it out. If Bucky didn’t respond at all, he would lightly gesture for the Soldier to sit back down.

The Soldier didn't react and so he was sat back down again, calmed at least somewhat by the presence of his handler and the direct order, however gently given, for him to focus on. Steve looked heartbroken at what he had unintentionally done and eventually decided that it might be best if he left, though he asked Tony if he'd be able to come and visit for an hour or two each day.

He said that he would cover for Tony for a week with the duties of the Avengers, but if there was no change after that then they'd have to have another conversation about things, because they needed Tony to be involved if Thanos were on the way in the next couple of months. They might have beaten these scavengers back with minimal deaths, but that was just a tiny fraction of what was coming.

For four days, the Soldier remained silent. He ate on his own, always soups or easily digested things, slept on his own, and washed on his own. He otherwise seemed blank, never really responding to anything Tony told him. Until the middle of the fifth day, when Tony was sat beside him playing a video game, and he might just feel a hand creep over and take his hand to interlock their fingers. Sure, it would cause his character to die on screen when he no longer had the ability to hold the control stick, but would he mind?

Tony sat the controller on his knee and closed his eyes briefly. He’d always had these moments with his Nanny, when sometimes, out of nowhere, the man would react towards him in an affectionate, or at least a non robotic way. He could link up a lot of those particular memories with days where his Nanny was no where to be found, when that aberrant behavior had been spotted by his father and the Asset was taken away. Tony knew why now. There was something in these moments when left unchecked that would have the potential of giving Bucky his memory back.

Tony lightly moved his thumb across James’ knuckles and just sat back in the overstuffed couch. He didn’t want to ruin it, this momentary lapse in programming, but his mouth wasn’t exactly one known to remain still in silences.

“It’s taking me longer than I thought it would to regrow my beard.” Just something random, but friendly, as he lightly squeezed Bucky’s hand.

He had actually been recovering himself since that moment where Steve said those fateful words and it had only got stronger and stronger as the days went on. With visits from Steve and with Tony always by his side, he had managed to recover more than he ever thought he would, though it had taken him a long time to drag those pieces out from under the Soldier's stoic influence.

Bucky squeezed those fingers right back and then slowly, ever so slowly, leaned sideways so that he could put his head onto Tony's shoulder. His eyes slid closed and when he spoke, English finally, his voice was raspy with disuse.

"I like the beard."

“Yeah. Me too. I mean it’s a lot of work to keep up but my chin stays warm.” They settled into the couch together, just holding hands with James himself choosing to cuddle against him. And that made Tony smile as the resume game screen flashed st him. It could just stay that way for the rest of the day for all he cared. Tony lightly rested his cheek onto the top of James’ head and made a mental note to tell Steve about this later tonight.

The blond would be over here in a moment otherwise and call Tony jealous (obviously) but he wanted this for himself.

A slow, steady draw slipped from his nostrils and rustled up James’ hair as the sounds of the ocean rolled through the partially opened windows. It was a little chilly out but Tony just wore layers. He thought the scent and sound might help James recover a little.

After a time, Tony rolled his head back onto the pillow.

“This probably is going to sound crazy... but can you wash your hair? I’m not saying you’re dirty or anything but...”. That agent had sickened and angered him. “You’ve has some real creeps messing it up.”

It was probably a good thing that Tony hadn't come in earlier or he would have been asking him to brush his teeth and wash down his throat too. Better not to mention that, he had already been humiliated enough by having Tony see him naked and bruised and submissive like that, he was lucky that the other man still wanted him around at all, let alone still wanted to touch him.

"Yeah, I think I could manage that."

Even though his expression was still neutral and his voice still relatively expressionless, he obviously wasn't the Soldier any more, he had himself back for a given extent of himself.

"...thanks, Tony. You helped me remember, I owe you."

“You don’t owe me anything,” Tony said immediately. “I think this is one of those things that comes with the territory. I get into trouble and you save me. You get into trouble and I save you. And sometimes Steve can come over and hang out.” Tony wasn’t the only one that had done the saving after all! He didn’t want to give Rogers too much credit but he might as well give him a little!

Tony tightened his grip ever so slightly before he glanced in James’ direction.

“So I have a confession...” He didn’t know about the forced blowjob. And yeah. James would have to go for a whole detox if that was the case. What was it with Nazis and rape anyway? “Don’t get mad but I eh... I didn’t save anything for you to get revenge on. I’m only a little sorry about that.”

Tony had issues looking at himself in the mirror sometimes because of all the death he had caused. But in this case? He looked damned good.

He honestly didn't care, he didn't need revenge, there were far too many people for him to get revenged on if he actually went down that route. He was tired of fighting, tired of being a harbinger of death, even if it was to people like HYDRA. So he just shrugged slightly.

He pushed upwards so that he could use his free hand, the metal one, to cup against the stubble growing back on Tony's face, bits of salt and pepper mixed in with the brown bristles now.

"No, you don't understand, you helped me remember. I don't have it all, but I have more than I had before. I remember standing at your shoulder as a kid, I remember skinny dipping in the Hudson while Steve stole my clothes, I remember the smell of my Ma's split pea soup. Steve helped, but I don't think he could've done it alone. He's my brother, but-- you said it to me in Siberia, and I remembered it."

Remember that I love you.

The hand against his cheek, the slight weight to it, and how easy it was for Tony to take his own hand off of the controller so that he could wind his arm around James’ waist brought Tony to one conclusion about the man looking at him with eyes the color of the ocean outside. He hadn’t been lying about loving James. Tony didn’t love easily but he knew in his heart that anyone he named a friend he automatically loved. But there were other sorts of love, deeper and less platonic ones. He’d loved his Nanny. He loved the guy that broke into his Tower needing help. But he was in Love now. Capital L and all.

And why was that? James wasn’t his type. He was nothing at all like Pepper... except that he knew everything about him and had come along for the ride for many years of his life until Tony could feel comfortable enough to know he was in love.

That probably was a terrible thing to say and to think, however.

“I saved you because you remembered that I love you,” Tony said, not because he had to string it out but because he really wanted to. His hand slid up James’ back. “Good. Now remember that I’m in love with you too and we’ll call it even that you ruined my game against those ten year olds from China I still can’t manage to beat.”

There was no way now that James was getting out of this one unscathed. Tony was going to kiss him unless he moved. Quickly.

James still didn't know if he felt comfortable with the idea of two men properly being together in an 'in love' sort of situation, but he didn't move. He was tired of second guessing himself and, even if it was a sin and wrong, then it felt good and he had so little of what felt good for so long that he was done denying himself. A kiss wouldn't panic him, not when it came from Tony.

He tasted exactly like he imagined Tony would taste, his lips soft, but the bristle of his growing beard making it impossible to ever mistake that he was kissing another man and not some dame.

"I think I might be with you too." In love. "And-- And I think I'm ready to be Bucky, it feels right, but... but I want you to keep James. Something for you."

He could be Steve's Bucky, and the world's Bucky, but he could be Tony's James and that felt intimate, hopefully like it would keep Tony from freaking out and being jealous when he spoke to and grew closer to Steve again.

The guy had stolen his clothes after he went skinny dipping in the Hudson. There was no way that Tony could think that Bucky could love a guy like that when he had another, richer, wiser, old man to love who gave him access to the internet’s worth of clothing. Even so, Tony liked having something that was just his. You would think that a man with literally everything wouldn’t need something exclusively, but you’d be completely and utterly wrong. It was those special things that kept Tony from sinking fully into despair sometimes, because for everything he had, he still didn’t think he was good enough to be allowed to have them.

The marks at the edges of his eyes turned into deeper creases as he gazed up at Bucky, tucking some hair behind his ear.

“You still can’t call me Anthony,” he quipped, hand lingering for his thumb to trace Bucky’s dimpled chin. “But I like that you’ll be my James.”

Tony kept things light here. He watched Bucky watching him and felt a little more grounded for it.

It had been over a week now without the voices, without the hallucinations. Tony thought he had it pretty good. But of course, that was not going to last.

Of course it wasn't, because they weren't allowed to have anything good for themselves. Not when things were looming on the horizon, or even just when the world seemed to not want to give them a break. Perhaps it was what Vision had thought, that just the creation of people like them invited challenge.

Bucky's lips twitched ever so slightly upwards, barely a change in expression and yet for him it was practically a lovestruck grin.

"You think Steve's gonna faint when I tell him that I remember being his dumb best friend?"

Also how much of a shit he used to be, because imagining making Steve faint was just funny to him.

“I’m going to record it,” Tony grinned. They had the same childish mentality, which was not going to bode well at all for poor Steve. This version of Bucky was someone that Tony found himself really drawn to. The easy grin, the flash in his eyes— He might not ever be Happy go lucky Bucky Barnes again, but this was probably closer than he’d come for a long time and Tony actually felt pride for someone else that wasn’t just Banner.

It was a pretty big thing.

Tony slung an arm around the other man and pulled him back down to his chest. “Tomorrow. He’s due over anyway. Most punctual and predictable hero in the world. Until then, we are going to kick these little Chinese kids’ asses.”

Bucky tensed when he was pulled down to the other man's chest, but the tension leaked out of him pretty quickly because he actually trusted Tony. He used to be a really tactile person, back before the war, always slinging an arm around Steve's neck or touching his arm, he wondered if he'd ever really get that back.

"Sure, tomorrow. And if you want then I'll kick their asses, you can teabag them after I'm done."

Maybe it was evil to use his reflexes and serum enhanced gifts to decimate a bunch of children on a video game, but he had sort of come to the realisation that he'd never be a hero anyway, not truly.

"And in return, you can tell me what the hell is up with your bananas."

“It’s like you know me,” Tony grinned, releasing Bucky after only a moment to hand over his controller before he went to get the other one resting on top of the gaming system. He knew what he could and couldn’t get away with. A minute or so of touching was about as much as the Bucky from before could stand and Tony didn’t want to jump to conclusions that the return of his memory had signaled the return of any sort of normalcy between them.

Beside that, he was all right with the minimal affection. His mind tended to be too crowded for anything too prolonged. Pepper could attest to that. Tony wasn’t like a normal person, he didn’t like to cuddle or lay around. He had things to do, even if those things were just getting back at pre-teens who had been crushing him at a two-year outdated game.

“Ban... what?? Do we have bananas?”

Edited 2017-12-04 17:35 (UTC)

"FRIDAY had the kitchen equipment mash some into a smoothie for me, she said it would help be easy on my stomach, but there's something wrong with your bananas. They all taste weird."

Bucky sounded almost offended about this as he took the controller and picked out his starting gear for the match. He was more focused on the banana issue than the game, but he was a natural sniper with excellent reflexes, so he wasn't worried about making Tony's gamertag a sudden legend.

"You can tell me, are they weird Stark experimental bananas?"

“You’ve got me. We’re calling them WES Bananas.” Weird Experimental Stark, of course. From now on, everything would be WES whenever Bucky decided to be sassy. “I can’t remember the last time I tried an actual banana that wasn’t just flavored rum,” he mused, “so I can’t help you out there.”

Tony tried to use gear that would cimpliment Bucky’s, but the guy could probably win this game blindfolded so there was no real reason for him to do anything but maybe act as a look out around corners or be a bodyguard. One would think that Tony would be annoyed at hos good Bucky was, but he in fact enjoyed being on a winning team. He didn’t care about the size of his role.

“Maybe 1930s bananas tasted weird. Didn’t they have to arrive on the backs of dinosaurs?” Could this just be Bucky’s memory really coming back, full force? “Sorry our bananas aren’t so dinosaur-y.”

"No, pretty sure bananas back then were the normal ones, not this weird and freaky crap that you're trying to feed to me."

"Sir," that was FRIDAY. "If I may interrupt, I could shed some light on this issue. Before the early 1950s, the strain of banana eaten in the US and much of the world was a different one to the one eaten today. It was all but wiped out with a banana plague at the start of fifties, and then replaced with the modern strain. The only remnant of the old banana strain is the synthetic banana flavouring to candy and drinks, which is derived from the old bananas."

Which might explain why banana flavoured products tasted nothing like real bananas.

Bucky looked half amused and half outraged, taking out his frustrations by sniping one of the Chinese kids from half a map away. "You're kidding me? People actually think the bananas you fed me are the real thing?"

“Wow, you actually liked that old crap? Banana candy is literally the worst,” Tony said, wrinkling his nose as if Bucky himself stank. “Our bananas are real. Didn’t you listen? They’re just a different family. Are you banana racist, James? FRIDAY, take a note, James is banana racist.” Tony lightly shook his head, as if he was utterly and completely hopeless and Tony was just embarrassed to know him. “And add cultivating old, awful bananas to the list of stuff to do when the world isn’t on the verge of ending.”

“All right Boss, I’ve recorded down both,” FRIDAY said good naturedly. She was pretty good for a laugh most of the time, making Tony shake his head again at Barnes for effect. He never did break character, not even after they started the game.

‘Banana Racist was going to be James’ unfortunate new pet name for the forseeable future, but at least they won a few rounds of Call of Duty that night. It was, by far, the best one he’d spent with James yet. He was so vibrant, so irreverant. And Tony just loved him.

It was a hint of who he used to be, the sort of man who had inspired Steve Rogers to disobey his chain of command and storm the enemy lines single handed to get him out. He had always been funny and snarky and smart, the sort of guy that always got the girl and made most people watch him carefully for signs of mischief.

It was a good night, for Bucky too. He and Tony didn't do much more than snipe at each other and occasionally touch hands, but it felt-- good, better. He was more himself now than he had ever been. Which was why, the next morning, he had Tony set up with a camera out of sight to film it when Steve came in.

He was sat on one of the chairs blank faced as ever, but when Steve walked through the door, he set his feet up on the table cool as you please, Brooklyn accent strong. "Did you hear that the Dodgers turned traitor? Who the hell am I supposed to support now?"

Exhaustion was probably the only word that came to mind when someone asked Steve how he felt that morning before he climbed into the mini-jet Stark gave him on loan for his trek up to New England. He wasn’t in a good place when he landed and when he saw James just sitting there? He was pretty sure that he needed to have a talk with Stark about this. There had to be another way. If Steve could take James back with him to HQ, maybe he’d see something or hear something that struck a chord? He was about to ask where Tony was when Bucky, his Bucky complained about the baseball team’s move from Brooklyn to LA.

Upstairs, Tony watched the feed with a laugh until Steve Rogers broke down. That made him uncomfortable enough to get himself up and tell FRIDAY that they were moving up production of Bucky Bananas to that morning’s great breakthrough.

At least the breakdown lasted only a moment before Steve could pull himself together and grab Bucky by the shirt to force him to his feet and into a hug. “I don’t know. Still struggling myself,” he sniffled. “The Yankees and the Mets turn my stomach.”

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