Rodey knocked on the Lab door, it opened with ease. he cautiously pasted through the glass frame, taking in the change of scenery. Bottles and trash, pizza boxes and candy wrappers, littered the once brightly tiled floor.
Nearing Tony, Rodey notices him tinkering with a few of his newest toys. He bent down, picking up a few bits of the debris.
“I have to say, your life went downhill way faster than expected” he flung the bit of trash into a pile.
Tony looked briefly to Rodey then back to his work at hand. Rodey, placed his hands on his hips observing the displayed suits, a thin layer of dust covered each one like fallen snow.
“You know, this isn’t about you” he turned, facing Tony.
"Yeah, That's what I keep hearin'." Tony grabbed another tool, rubbing his brow, continuing his work.
"It also-" Rhodey sighed,
tapping his finger against the table,"It wasn't your fault."
Tony, let a small breath pass his lips
"I know".
Rodey, sighed- Tony's his best friend, it pained him to see him like this.
"There was nothing you or anybody could have done to prevent-"
"I.. Know." Tony blinked a few times, hoping that would keep his tears at bay.
"Then why are you held up in the lab like some freaking hermit?" Rodey, scanned Tony's work space, cluttered with random gadgets and gizmos.
Tony unbruptly stopped, planting his gloved hands on the table, making Rodey flinch.
"Because... it's my fault. I told Y/n to go in hot with Rogers. I told her that the building was all clear, I told her that I had- that WE had HER! I FAILED!." Tony spun around violently flinging his screwdriver against a wall. He turned back, resting his hands on the table, bowing his head, staring at his reflection in the glass table. He swallowed hard, his voice becoming raspy.
"How's...Barnes?" Tony hesitantly looked up toward Rodeys face.
"You should go visit him." Rodey stated, eyeing Tony's shaking hands.
“Listen, I’m in no state to emotionally support anyone right now” Tony swallowed, mouth dry as the desert.
Rodeys shook his head slowly,
“Well, He was whispering to himself again, ya know? Like, if he apologized enough to the open air, it would bring Y/n back” Rodeys voice cracked at the end of his sentence, wiping a tear attempting to flee his eye. "We've always gotta be aware... there's always a chance, if we step a foot out on the battlefield, not all of us will make it back alive. "
Tony ran his hands through his unkept hair, reaching for an opened bottle of wine discarded on Banners desk.
“This time it’s different. This time ...it matters. Of everyone in this tower, it shouldn't have been her."
-------------
Bucky sat in his restraints, somber and unmoving. He stared out through the glass prison he resided in.
His memory was hazy from days ago, unsure why he had been bound into this glass room..no...cage. Hearing some guards talking just outside his cell, Bucky strained to hear their conversation.
"Is he conscious yet? I've got.. a few questions, I gotta ask him."
"He's been pretty calm since the accident sir."
"You sure you're ready to go in there Captain? "
On of the voices sounded vaguely familiar, stirring something in his chest.
'Steve? An accident?' Bucky pondered at these words. Unsure of what it could be, his eyes began to shift- panicking. He has to know what happened on the last mission. Why hasn't he seen you? Why is he being restrained? Did he do something wrong? Had he hurt someone? Where were you?
Buckys chest began heaving, sweat rolled down his face as he sat pondering all the questions his mind threw at him. He closed his eyes in attempt to recall a memory, any memory, of you or the last mission you both were on.
'Concentrate' he began whispering to himself, like a prayer too eager to drop from his lips. Struggling against his binds, Bucky grasped at fragments of memory flashing behind his eyelids.
Hydra.
No.
Steve.
No.
Tony .
No.
You..
Yes...
"Y/n. "
The name on his lips sounded like home, touching some part of him he thought had faded away.
With your beautiful eyes, staring back at him through your long eyelashes. You with your pouty lips. Oh, how he loves your lips. Smoothing his thumb across your bottom one, opening your mouth, accepting of his tongue.
"Barnes? What- what are you doing? Put the gun down, we can talk about this."
Bucky, weaving his hand through your luscious locks, pulling on them softly, massaging your scalp when you are stressed. Your neck, all poised, proudly adoring the hickes he leaves on you for the world to see.
"Bucky, listen to Stark, he's trying to-"
"I DON'T NEED HIS HELP! I KNOW WHAT IM DOING!"
Your breasts, he's running a finger over your hardened nipples, sucking gently making you whisper Russian curses he had taught you, because he likes it.
"Y/n I'm-YOU. Are my..mission."
"No Buck! DON'T! Not this! Not her!"
"Bucky, please. Rogers! Stark! It's ok. It's Y/n, Bucky. I'm here to help..we all are."
Your skin- so smooth, perfect, beneath his own scared and marked flesh, whispering his name into the night sky. Your legs, as they wrap around his own, twisting amongst the bed sheets, a wild mess of limbs.
"You...understand, don't you? What I have to do?"
"ROGERS, I'm taking him out!"
"STARK DON'T! HE DOESN'T KNOW!"
Your danty hands, pale in comparison to his own, squeezing tightly, when he makes Iove to you, thrusting his hips up to meet yours. A frenzy of moans, sweat..tears.
"ROGERS! My sister's NOT DYING because Barnes is having an IDENTITY CRISIS!"
"..Bucky... It's Y/n, It's ok... Do what you feel needs to be done."
"Y/N? Y/N! NO!"
"Bucky..Don't be afraid.. I love y-"
Your sweet toes, resting across his lap, painted, look like candy, he kisses each one, sucking on them, gently tickling against his stubble.
You were like a ghost, hovering on the fringes of his mind, insisting he never forgets.
---------------
Steve watched as Bucky relived the memory of you, as he yanked you from this world. His face scrunched up, biting his lips, shaking, screaming, crying within his restraints.
Steve placed a steady hand onto the glass viewing window, tears dropping from his red rimmed eyes. He softly murmured a prayer, for you, for Bucky, and for himself- of forgiveness.
For he.. he had love you too.