Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Hey, J, set up a tracking program. Find out whatever it is Steve's been chasing since Hydra went down. Something smells fishy to me.”

“I've been running a passive monitoring program on every Avenger and related since the moment we first heard the term. Captain Rogers' status went elevated three weeks ago when the algorithm tagged his activity as unusual. I have since been observing and compiling information to present to you. I have some developing theories you should review. They are, as expected, concerning.”

“You really are ready to take over the world, aren't you?”

“I rather fear I would find that boring after dealing with you, sir.”

“Fancy yourself a comedian, huh?”

“Only for you, sir.”

Tony stares at the screen as JARVIS’ data flashes in front of him. He tries to take it in but it’s all moving too fast and mostly scans of old handwritten files, which makes him scoff in indignation. A few seconds of grainy surveillance footage makes him pause though.

“Woah, stop, J. Go back. What was that? I recognized that.”

“J?” Tony asks again when the information flow doesn’t stop.

“I was not yet prepared to reveal that to you, sir. I think other information would be better suited first.”

“Well, that isn’t concerning. Nope, not at all. Should I pour myself a scotch before we talk about this?”

“Yes. And allow me a moment to arrange the information in the manner most befitting your mental health.”

JARVIS is done by the time Tony returns from the bar cart with his glass, and an image of Bucky Barnes sits on the holoscreen.

“Um, J. What is my childhood crush doing up there? We aren’t reliving all the worst parts of my pre-teen years, are we? Listening to a lecture from Howard on how much of a disappointment I'd be to the Commandos?”

“As entertaining as some of that may be, sir, we are, unfortunately, dealing with something much worse.”

Tony takes a swig and chuckles. “Yeah, J, I don’t really think such a thing exists.”

Less than a minute later, Tony chokes on both his drink and his previous words. Images and descriptions of the procedures done to Bucky follow one after another on the screen, highlighting in real time the horrors undertaken to produce the famed Winter Soldier.

“Is this real? Does Steve know?”

“Captain Rogers is aware.” JARVIS’ even voice is more clipped than usual, as if straining to express the anguish he knows should exist. Tony watches for another few minutes, glass clenched tightly in his fist until that grainy footage plays again and he fully recognizes it—the road, the victims.

“God damn Hydra. He didn’t even recognize Howard, not a flicker. And fuck Mr. Perfect Captain America. Steve’s protecting him because he doesn’t trust me to see the real bad guy.”

“That was my assessment as well.”

A sigh escapes as he runs a hand through his hair. “What do we know about Bucky right now? He’s been living off the grid since he went AWOL after D.C.?”

“Yes. Here’s what little surveillance I have been able to gather.”

Tony watches video clips of an incognito Bucky, hair still on the long side, but clean-shaven and wearing casual clothes, cap pulled low. He walks along his neighborhood, visits the food stalls, seemingly does odd jobs at the docks, buys the newspaper. It's all very mundane.

“Any incidents? Flashes of the Winter Soldier?”

“Nothing on camera and nothing suspicious in the local news.”

“Prep the suit and the jet. We leave in five; I want to hit those coordinates in Romania in time for brunch.”

“Sir, maybe you should—”

“No time, J,” he says, already on the move, thoughts and plans racing through his head.

***

Tony is aware, even if others don't believe him, that he isn't known for his subtlety. The suit sure wasn’t built for stealth. He also recognizes he isn’t always known for his smart choices. But he understands, today, who it is he’s approaching. There’s no way to outmaneuver or surprise the biggest ghost story in intelligence, so he isn't even going to try. He does, however, have to stay off the military and SHIELD’s radars.

“Were you attempting to be insulting, sir?” JARVIS responds when he asks for that bit of cover.

“Never, J. Just let me have my moment of panic as I realize I’m seeking out one of the most feared assassins in history.”

“Of course, sir. Such activity outside of your normal pattern is surely concerning.” There isn’t even a pause before JARVIS continues, and Tony is ridiculously proud of his AI right now. “I’ve earmarked that building roof two over with the red ladder for arrival. Heat signature is confirmed in Sergeant Barnes’ apartment.”

The landing is smooth and quiet, barely disturbing the early morning routines of the small neighborhood. He steps out of the suit, removes everything except his wrist gauntlets. It's then he notices his ripped tank top and worn pajama bottoms.

“Huh. J, did you really let me leave the house wearing this?”

“This is what happens when you mute me before I’ve finished my sentence. Perhaps it will make you seem more approachable.”

“Yeah, or easier to kill,” Tony says with a scoff as he takes off along the roof.

***

Tony knocks on the door to the third-floor apartment. “Yoo-hoo. Breakfast delivery!”

He barely gets the words out before the door is thrust open and he’s pulled abruptly inside and slammed against the wall. Barnes is pressed shoulders to knees against him, knife barely a millimeter from his throat. Tony’s body goes ramrod straight in response, breath hitching as his mind works on overdrive.

“I come in peace,” pops out of his mouth before he can stop it. “Do you get that reference? Or was that after you were horrifically brainwashed but before Captain Perfect broke your programming?”

The man formerly known as Bucky Barnes stares back at Tony, face a strange mixture of confusion, disdain, and blankness. The knife moves away a fraction, but still much closer to Tony’s carotid artery than he’d prefer.

“Iron Man. Tony Stark. Here to rescue you from SHIELD, HYDRA, governments, shadow governments, and Captain America, also known as your best friend for all of eternity, Steve Rogers. Now, what do I call you?”

Barnes still doesn’t move, and the even blanker look Tony gets in return shouldn’t surprise him, but it does. Usually, Tony at his most charming and annoying breaks through everyone’s barriers in some way.

“Now as hot as this is, because believe you me, your body is smoking, I really think we can discuss this at the table like mature grown-ups. As much as I typically advocate sex as an ideal way to take the stress out of any situation, I’m trying to be reasonable here.”

Tony isn’t quite sure how to read the slight widening of Barnes’ eyes and the almost smirk that flashes for just a second at the corner of his lips. He tells himself not to think about it. Barnes takes a few strides over to the small kitchen, eyes never leaving Tony. There’s only one chair, and he gestures at Tony to take it as he leans against the fading Formica countertop, practically still looming over Tony in the kitchen that’s smaller than Tony’s bed.

“How’d ya find me?” is the first thing that comes out of Barnes’ mouth.

“I’ve got the most brilliant AI on the planet. Makes anything HYDRA or SHIELD have look like MS Paint. J, say hi.”

“Greetings, Sergeant Barnes. Sir truly does ‘come in peace,’ as he so dramatically put it.” JARVIS’ tone couldn’t be drier, and Tony exaggeratedly rolls his eyes at Barnes in response.

Barnes looks like he can’t decide whether he just wants to stab Tony and be done with it, run from the obvious craziness that has been brought to his doorstep, or annihilate the watch that JARVIS’ voice just emanated from.

“Listen, just hear me out,'' Tony says with a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down and reign in his dramatics. “J found your file in the aftermath of all that went down in D.C.” Here, Barnes scoffs at Tony’s euphemism, earning him a wink. “And, god, Barnes. No one deserves even a fraction of what you went through. No one. And I have the means and resources to help you – on multiple fronts. So that’s what I’m here offering. Nothing else, no ulterior motive.”

“Not even taking the stress out of the situation?” Barnes asks, voice flat.

Tony stares at him for a moment. “I can’t tell if you’re screwing with me or not. And while, I reiterate, I’m always down for sex as a pastime, I feel like we should probably sort out a few things first and make sure we’re on the same page here.”

“You’re pretty easy to mess with,” Barnes says as a slight smile forms at the corners of his lips.

“And you’re pretty wry for a scrambled octogenarian.”

“More than that, now.”

“Ugh, don’t you remind me. More than double my age and attractiveness. Completely unfair.”

“Right. I don’t trust you yet,” Barnes says as he hops up on the countertop.

“Well then let’s get to changing that,” Tony says, a slight smile on his face when he realizes Barnes took his eyes off him for a second; takes that for the small sign of trust he thinks it is.

Tony’s good at talking, so that's what he does. He starts, only briefly, with Howard and Peggy and his childhood. Moves quickly on to his early twenties and his lifestyle and all the bad choices he made, business and personal. The Afghanistan part is brief, but he doesn’t shy away from the torture or how the entire experience changed him. When it comes to the Iron Man part, he brags a bit, he can admit it. But everything he’s done since he first put on that suit are the best parts of his life. He talks about clean energy, his bots, random ideas he’s had for household appliances, the augmented reality therapy he’s still seriously considering naming BARF, a secondary AI with a more direct focus, how much he loves the legacy SI is building now. It’s fifteen solid minutes of babbling, he can admit that.

“Yeah, I can see why you and Stevie clash,” Barnes suddenly interrupts him, the closest thing to a smile Tony’s seen on his face yet.

“Well, Captain Perfect and I have a few different ideas on what constitutes priorities, efficiencies, and best methods.”

“You’re an asshole, aren’t ya?”

“Grade A,” Tony says, because he knows it's true, “but I’m not a liar and I mean well. Take of that what you will.”

Barnes nods at that, which Tony takes as a win. “You’ve got a plan? Not that I’m saying yes, but at least lay it on me.”

Tony nods. “Is it too cliche if I say life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness?” Barnes quirks an eyebrow at him, but Tony just smiles and continues on, “Seriously though. I’ve got a team of lawyers, smart as whips and vicious as hell when I want them to be. JARVIS is already compiling, on a secure server mind you, everything about you. I want you fully exonerated, celebrated as a POW war hero if you want, or so quiet no one will know about it; up to you. Therapy, mental healing, physical fitness—again, I have an arsenal of people and resources literally at my fingertips. Come with me back to New York and everything will be a request to JARVIS away.”

“And after all that?

“Well, then, whatever you want.”

Barnes gives him a skeptical look.

“First, I am all about free will, consent, and people doing what they want. But, I grew up with stories of you, Cap, and the Howlies. Those were the golden days to Howard. And I, well I never measured up. Was never as good as Steve, at least in his eyes. But, I related to you. I’m sure half of what I’ve heard and read is embellished, but if I can help you, I’d like to. And, let’s also consider it one big fuck you to Steve. I’ll take that as a reason to make decisions any day.”

He’s still being stared at, but Barnes’ sharp eyes have gone from dubious to calculating. There’s thirty seconds of silence that Tony fidgets through before Barnes finally speaks.

“Half my mind may be shot to hell, but my instincts are still there. I’m gonna go pack.”

Tony watches him stalk off, enjoying the view for a moment, before he jumps into action.

“J, find the most qualified therapist and doctor relevant to Barnes’ needs. Get them a triple generous offer and an NDA. Same with my lawyers, figure out which ones are best suited and figure out if their current NDA is good enough. Order groceries and clothes and have someone ready one of the guest suites. Work with Pep to lighten my schedule the next few weeks, priorities only outside the tower. Make sure the pilot’s ready to fly back within the hour.”

“In motion, sir. I will keep you abreast of any complications.”

Tony’s tinkering with the unfurled suitcase suit as Barnes comes out of the bedroom, small knapsack in his hand. It’s the slow whistle that catches his attention and when he turns, he’s being blatantly stared at.

“Is sex still on the table?” Barnes asks, leaning casually against the doorframe.

From where he’s crouched next to the armor, Tony’s got a great eye-level view of Barnes’ thighs, and he only has so much resistance in him.

“You compos mentis? Able to consent? Totally understand what’s going on here?”

“I’m traumatized, not a child. Now get in here,” he says with a flick of his head.

Dropping his screwdriver on the table, Tony follows.

***

“I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship,” Bucky says as he stands up half an hour later to pull on his pants.

Tony stares at him for half a second. “Did you just quote Casablanca to me in bed? I don’t know if I want to kick you out or never let you leave.”

“I saw Bogie once, ya know, dining in New York. Now that was a day to remember.”

“Again, I can’t decide if that’s one of the hottest things I’ve ever heard or the worst. Either way, the jet’s ready and so am I, so let’s blow this joint.”

Tony’s just about to hop off the bed when something soft and white darts across his stomach.

“What the fuck was that?” He exclaims as he surges off the bed, clutching the blanket to his chest.

“That’s Alpine. She’s coming along with me.”

“What? I’m sorry, how the hell do you have a cat? How are you better adjusted than I am?” Tony asks out loud, fingers massaging his temple as takes in the sight of Bucky rubbing the cat’s head. His mouth opens again before he can stop himself. “Yeah, you are not going to have any problem with your sex life if you go around looking like that and petting cats.”

“Did I wear you out already, old man?” Bucky asks as he scoops up the cat and plops her into the duffle bag by the door. She glares up at him for a moment before settling down as he strokes her nose.

Tony’s watch beeps, and he finishes tugging his pajama pants back on, glaring at them once again in disgust.

“The jet’s ready. Do you need to wrap up anything here?”

“I’ll leave a note and the key for the landlady. I’m month-to-month and paid up.”

“Alright then. Suit’s too noticeable if I try to take you, and too risky to get a taxi, so we’ll be walking a couple blocks until the pilot can meet us with something inconspicuous and get us to the airstrip. Cover your face, I’m not blowing our cover now.”

Bucky flips his middle finger before pushing his cap down on his head and walking towards the door.

It’s less than half an hour before they’re on the tarmac and ready to load. Bucky spends a moment looking at the buildings dotting the horizon before he climbs the steps onto the plane.

***

“Am I texting Steve about you?” Tony asks halfway through the flight, thirty minutes after he helped Bucky join the mile high club.

Bucky stares at him for a moment, face scrunched in thought. “Can you really hide me from him?”

“Indefinitely? No. For a month or so, easily.”

“Give me a couple weeks, get my feet under me and settled. Then…think we can time it so he walks in on us?”

Tony can’t contain the laugh that bursts out of him. “We are going to get along so well, Bucky.”