fossilised | Jotunheimr

Jotunheimr

Thor Odinson was not ready to be King.

That much had become suddenly and sharply clear to Odin All-Father, a sharp pain that he would rather not have had. He had been blinded too long by love for his only heir, seeing only his affable way of gaining friends and his strength on the battlefield, but ignoring how he had become spoiled and arrogant. He had glossed over the reports from Thor's tutors that his son had not studied the other realms or the duties of a King as he should, and had instead spent much of his youth carousing with his favoured companions, hunting or getting into trouble together.

But this... this was beyond a childish scrape.

Egged on by his friends, or so it had come out since the act, Thor had decided to go to Jotunheim - a forbidden act - for the sole purpose of finding one of its inhabitants and slaying it. A proof of his mettle as a warrior, to kill one of the fearsome giants, the monsters of the icy realm. He felt ashamed, sick at heart that his only son could be so ignorant as to think that any race were just monsters. He might have hoped these were just rantings, but he saw preparations begin to take place and he knew that they meant to commit treason by disobeying his orders of no contact with Jotunheim and perhaps start another war.

Arrangements were hastily made, pushed through Frigga who had more goodwill remaining to her among the Giants, and when Thor arrived at the Bifrost, he would find Odin standing by the great sword rather than Heimdall, his one eye forbidding.

"Why are you so eager to seek out war, my son?"

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“If I was going to tell Rogers about you, he’d already be here,” Tony said, either oblivious to the death stare he was getting or simply not caring. Probably the latter, though he might well be immune to death stares now. It came with the territory. “And I wouldn’t be hypothesizing to you.”

Of course, that was right about when the arm went dead on James. Tony had severed the receptors and was already pulling out one of the mini circuit boards. This technology looked fairly recent, the upgrades newer, at least within the last two years.

“It helps to know what I’m working with but I don’t have to. And you know that. It’s why you came to me for blind repairs. Stop half-threatening me.”

James went incredibly still when his arm went dead, almost as though he were no longer breathing. It sent his mind into a flat spin of fight or flight survival response, even though he had been warned to expect it, and it took a hell of a lot of self control not to just lunge for Stark on the spot.

Which was probably why he switched back to Russian, his most comfortable language now even if he didn't want to admit it, once again sounding like a native of the country.

"You have no idea what you're talking about. You don't know how deep this goes."

“Uh huh,” Tony said, just a sort of sigh. He wasn’t entirely paying attention to Bucky (and this was usually how he got himself hurt, by being unaware of an oncoming explosion), much too focused on fixing a module component in the arm. It made Bucky’s pinky finger lift and fall, which Tony must have taken as a good sign because he sat back to wipe his hands again.

He really didn’t like the amount of red there was. Did they have to tint the lubricating oil that color? Seriously?

“If I don’t understand something, it’s because I haven’t had a damned minute to look at it. Stop being so threatening. I’m helping you. That’s what I do. I help people.”

Five years and counting. And usually it’s pretty fun.

That wasn't what he had been talking about. Stark no doubt understood the workings of his arm much better than James ever would; though the lubrication did need to be red, because it also served as a link to the blood supply from his actual body, circulating real blood through and out.

"Back. Step back."

It was a sudden and snapped order, and Stark would have about five seconds to obey before James lost what self control he did have. Hopefully Stark listened and got out of the way, and didn't end up being kicked in the face...

Weirdly enough, Tony isn’t even remotely keen about being kicked in the face. He puts up his hands and a smirk, thankfully unaware that there’s blood in the lubricant. That would be horrible. He wouldn’t sleep for days. So.. status quo honestly around here.

“What’s you’re problem now?” He was not going to speak Russian to this guy. Let Bucky be angry about his origins all he wanted, but Tony wasn’t going to give in this time. They were done playing the Soviet Dating Game. “Do you want me to fix you or not? Because good luck with that arm. One, it looks gross. Two, i hope you’re right handed.”

It wasn't a conscious choice for him to be trying to attack Stark, it was just a result of the mess that was his head. Too many instincts and too long being a weapon, with specific instructions, combined with the fear that came after traumatic experiences and-- well, he wasn't the sanest guy around.

He stumbled to his feet, left arm hanging awkwardly now that it was deactivated, and levelled cold hard eyes at Stark that no longer seemed to recognise him.

"I won't let you take me back." This was HYDRA, right? Or the Nazis? Or-- God, he was so confused, so scared.

“Take you back where? Genuinely curious. You came to me.” You know. Just as a reminder. Tony dropped his hands, fingertips smearing blood across his palms. He was trying not to get worked up. JARVIS tended to be protective of him if he was in danger and no one needed Steve riding in to save the day.

Tony glances around the workshop and shrugged at Bucky.

“I don’t know what Little melt down you’re having, but try to think through it. You came to me. You left. You came back. I’m passive in this. But I can promise you at least one thing. Whatever you’re afraid of, you don’t have to be here. Okay, yes, you found a way to break in. But that doesn’t mean that other people are going to. You’re safe here. Unless you lay a hand on me. And then all bets are off.”

"I don't--"

Understand. Remember. Anything.

This had been a mistake, James wasn't ready for this sort of intense experience and, even if Stark might not think that some repair work on his arm wasn't that intense, it was for someone who could remember being strapped down and having the thing attached to him in the first place.

A knife appeared in his hand as if from nowhere, but he didn't make a move to go for Stark just yet, watching him warily as if the smaller man was the predator and he was the prey.

A light flashed on one of the dashboards, JARVIS covertly asking if an SOS signal should be sent out to law enforcement and Steve.

Tony was pretty sure that the moment Steve got involved, that would be that. This guy would be gone forever. Tony looked up and then down again to signal that JARVIS needed to stand down.

“Why would you threaten me with a weapon when I haven’t threatened you?”

He just wanted this guy to be able to think for himself. Obviously that was the problem here. He kept cycling through personalities. The charming, asshole guy from Brooklyn and now this Russian fake copy of Steve.

He didn’t like it.

“Think about it and get back to me.”

That was kind of the problem at the moment, thinking about it. James' head was such a confusing mess of who he used to be, who he was programmed to be, and who he was figuring out to be that thinking was often a task that was out of his hands. He still relied too much on instinct, and he had made some dumb choices from that.

"I don't know," he muttered, voice blank. "I don't know."

This probably wasn't an ideal situation for poor Tony, who wasn't the most emotionally stable person himself and therefore wasn't prepared to deal with a traumatised ex-POW.

"You're one of them, aren't you? Like her."

“Not sure who ‘her’ is but I do know who I am. And you did too. Which is why you’re here. You can probably kill me without the knife and a lame arm so how about you drop the weapon and we can talk?” Would a HYDRA agent talk? Certainly not. They’re not the talking sort. They would be trying to capture Bucky again. And if he really thinks hard on it he can come up with his own answers here.

Tony is safe. He’s stupid for a genius, no one would ever doubt that, but he really is safe.

And he might actually understand a little about what Bucky’s deal is. He had been kidnapped by terrorists and made to build weapons for four months with a car battery plugged into his heart.

They all have their demons.

He wasn't entirely sure why he said her either, except that Stark reminded him in a very shadowy way of someone he had known a long time ago. Probably a memory thread better not followed to its natural conclusion.

There was a long silence before he finally slipped the knife back into its hiding place, although he didn't look any less tense than before.

"Maybe this was a mistake. I shouldn't have come, I'll hurt you."

Tony just rolled his eyes. Anyone else in this situation would be terrified and looking for a way to get Bucky out or to have someone come to help, but this was nothing compared to the danger he put himself in whenever he tried to shave off his landing time as Iron Man. It was getting a little hard on his knees and the plating he used to reinforce the landing dock upstairs.

“I hurt myself constantly. And I have a girlfriend.” Not that it made him a masochist but yeah. It kind of did. “You’re not worse than my usual safety retrofitting schedule.”

Which he’d been putting off for three years. Whoops. He’d just been busy!

“Sit back down. I’ll put on music and no more prying into your business. Okay?”

While the prying obviously wasn't something that he enjoyed, it was the working on his arm that had James the most on edge. He just couldn't separate Stark and the many years of HYDRA technicians, and so he expected it to hurt a hell of a lot, and even when it didn't, it just brought back bad memories.

He took a half step back and away from Stark, brow furrowed as his memory grasped after the 'her' that this man reminded him of. He shouldn't, he knew instinctively that it wouldn't end up in a good place, but-- he couldn't stop, it just happened automatically.

"Maria..."

The name escaped his lips all of a sudden, a hushed murmur.

Tony froze. Bucky knowing his father was one thing. That made sense. Howard palled around with Captain America and Friends during the war. But that was before his mother came along. Tony felt his stomach tie up in knots.

“Most people say I’m more like my dad,” Tony said, bitingly. ‘Maria’ was actually a very common name but that didn’t mean that Bucky wasn’t talking about the one that brought him into this world. And he had a really strong sense of that. There were too many questions left unanswered here. “Did you know her?”

And if Bucky did, and was telling the truth, what did that actually mean?

"Yeah."

Suddenly he really hoped that Tony took more after his father, as he said he did. Howard Stark might have been a cad and emotionally neglectful, but he had wanted to do the right thing for the world in starting SHIELD with Peggy Carter. Maria Stark, outwardly the kinder and gentler one, had been the one to help germinate the seed of HYDRA inside what Howard had created.

He frowned, mouth suddenly dry.

"It's best if you don't ask."

“You know what people do the moment you tell them not to ask something? They ask it,” Tony said, his jaw working hard to pop the line out from chin to ear on each side. His teeth actually ached before he forced himself to release the hold. “How did you know her?” he asked again, exhaling through his nose.

This was going to ruin Tony’s day. He could practically feel it. His mother had not been anything like his father. She was still somewhat neglectful, but she loved him and it was obvious. She hugged him. Later in his life, she tried to help him too, to steer him in the right direction.

He’d taken her death so, so hard, and maybe that explained why he was willing to listen to anything Bucky might have to say.

At least focusing on this tiny detail and Stark's reactions were helping to keep him grounded and less like he might lash out at any moment, it's why he had been capable of switching back to English, though it was almost an accentless voice rather than the Brooklyn twang.

"I said no," he repeated, and he would have headed for the door to escape the conversation if it hadn't been for the fact that his left arm was still wholly inactive and hanging limp at his side. "She's dead, what I know about her, or how we knew each other, it's not important any more."

He had caused so much suffering in his life, he'd rather not cause more if he could help it. And this truth would definitely cause suffering, he could tell.

“Actually, you said that I don’t want to know and not to ask you,” Tony pressed. It didn’t matter anyway. Either Bucky told him or he went looking himself. When his mind was on something, fully, he didn’t let himself be easily deterred.

It was little wonder that just about everyone found him insufferable really, for that reason alone.

Tony crossed his arms over his chest.

“She is dead. So anyone that knows anything about her is important to me. Finding out everything about her is important to me,” Tony stressed.

"And what if those things aren't good things?"

It wasn't hard to see that Stark idolised his mother, it was evident in the way his expressive dark eyes were shining with determination. That was the look of someone who had deified a dead woman in his mind, and James didn't want to be the one to destroy that.

"You should just hold onto what you already have, don't go looking for trouble."

“Now you sound like my mom,” Stark snapped and then threw his hands up. “You’re trying to psyche me out for absolutely no reason,” he complained. “I didn’t hurt you and if you don’t want to be fixed, cool. I’ve got other work to do.”

Like digging into this. His mother’s past was strange to him. He knew she was a scientist, that she traveled with his father, but Tony spent much of his youth isolated from his family. He had absolutely no way at all of knowing what had gone on with his mother and father since most of it was classified.

It was going to take some work to hack it but Tony was up for the challenge.

James didn't know Stark well enough to know that he would obsess about literally anything given the opportunity, but even he wasn't emotionally maladjusted enough to not figure out that a kid would dig into their parents' lives. Not good. If he found out what she had been, one of the founders of HYDRA and designers of 're-education' techniques, it wouldn't be pretty.

He didn't want to be there when that happened, but he also couldn't leave yet. If he walked away with his left arm still deactivated, he would be immensely vulnerable.

"You can't leave me like this, you have to make it work."

“You’re the one who told me to back off. And you’re not playing fair. You want me to finish fixing you, no more death threats and you get to talking. I’m not willing to wait for little tidbits that you can’t help but spill in Russian.” Tony knew that Bucky was damaged, emotionally, mentally, but he was also a dick and sometimes (all the time), he didn’t care how he came off.

He wasn’t here to make friends. He had friends. Pepper. Happy. Rhodey. Steve, weirdly enough.

Maybe that blue alien binary gendered royal that visited to break stuff and kill people sometimes.

He didn’t need Bucky.

It wasn't kind, but it wasn't exactly unexpected or unfair. Stark was going to be fixing him, providing him with a service, and he had the right to demand a fee. James just wished it wasn't this fee, because it would get ugly fast. It was more than likely, he thought, that Stark simply wouldn't believe what he had to say and would get angry or even violent at this asshole besmirching the memory of his Mom.

But what choice did he have?

He couldn't just walk out of here with one arm fully out of commission, that would likely lead to him dead or recaptured in no time at all, so this was the lesser of two evils.

"I'll answer your questions after you're done."

Because otherwise there'd be the danger that it wouldn't get done.

Rolling his eyes, Tony appeared to think about the deal for a moment, though he has always been ready and willing to fix that arm. It was new technology. It was a challenge. And he really, really wanted to do it.

That was why he didn’t wait too long before he returned to his rolling stool and patted the table for Bucky to drop back down on.

“You’re probably going to feel some tugging. I’m pretty sure all of this is connected to your nervous system,” he said, starting right in on things. It would be a few hours or work before he finished, happy with his work and the result, cold pizza waiting for them both downstairs.

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bugger I thought I pressed post comment on this >:

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let's ruin the one person Tony loved mwahaha

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