Light Up The Night

The sound of a phone ringing – with a far too familiar ringtone attached - jerked Steve to awareness. He scrambled for it in the darkness, reaching towards the dresser – always on his left in the apartment – and stopped when his arm brushed against Bucky, who was curled up beside him.

Bucky shifted restlessly beside him, a low whine building in his throat. Steve rolled onto his side and found a strange sight, the red numbers of a clock to his right instead of his left – completely blurry thanks to the fact that he didn’t have his glasses on – blinking at him. The phone beside it flashed a name that he only deciphered thanks to the fact that there weren’t too many three letter names in his contacts list.

He hit the green phone icon and pressed the phone to his ear. “Hey, Mom. What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

On the other end of the line, he heard his mother’s breath catch in her throat. Immediately he felt his heart turn to ice in his chest. Something was wrong and he was pretty sure he was starting to put the pieces together as to what exactly that wrongness was.

“Steven Grant Rogers,” she said, enunciating each word. “Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been about you?”

“Oh shit,” he blurted out, before he could stop himself. “I mean fuck. I mean Jesus Christ. Mom, I am so, so sorry.”

“First of all, language. Second of all, why didn’t you call me and tell me what had happened? The fire happened well over a week ago. I had to find out from a friend who read about it in the paper. They said it was arson?”

“That’s what the reports are saying,” he hedged. “It happened during the night. But don’t worry. I’m fine. It was just… uh, it was just that Bucky wasn’t quite so fine. He hurt his arm and he was in the hospital for a couple of days. I guess I was just so caught up with him and making sure he was alright that… that with everything else going on I just… just didn’t…”

He helplessly tried to find the words but his mom merely filled in, “You just didn’t call. You forgot to call.”

“Yeah. That.” He sat up slowly, trying not to disturb Bucky anymore than he already had, despite the fact that Bucky was already stirring, disrupting Winter, who immediately shifted to attention given Bucky’s restlessness. “I’m so sorry.”

“You said that already. How are you doing? How is James? Where are you two staying?”

“I’m doing alright. I really am. I sprained my ankle but it’s already doing a lot better. Buck’s… Bucky’s okay too. He had a rougher time of it than I did but he’s out of the hospital and he’s recovering. We’re staying at a friend’s house, where Bucky was staying before he moved into the apartment with me.” He took a breath before guiltily asking, “How’re you doing?”

“Don’t try to change the topic, Steven,” his mom said, her voice firm. “But since you’re asking, I’m doing better.”

“I mean it, Mom. I’m sorry that it took me so long to get in touch with you. I hadn’t forgotten or anything…”

Except that he had. With everything going on with the twins and Clint and then the shop and Bucky’s recovery, he had forgotten. Not that he could forget his mom or the fact that she was going through chemo. Just that it hadn’t been the top priority.

“I know you hadn’t.” This time, her voice softened. “I am doing better. I made it through my second round of chemo and the scans are looking good. Right now, I’m much more concerned about you and James.”

“We’re honestly doing okay. I’ve been getting back to school. I’m making up the work I missed. The entire situation is super fu – I mean, messed up – but me and Bucky are recovering.”

“That is a relief.” She exhaled slowly. “I’m sorry if I woke you up.”

“It’s alright, Mom,” he said quickly. “I get it. You were worried. Besides, it was only - ” He squinted at the clock as though he might be able to make out the numbers, and then settled on guessing “ – maybe twenty minutes before my alarm?”

“Still. I won’t keep you. Just promise me that you’ll be staying in contact.”

“I will,” he promised. “We’ll also be by to visit as soon as Buck’s more mobile.”

“I’m holding you to that, Steven. I love you. Give my best to James and I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Love you, Mom,” he said, waiting long enough for her to echo the sentiment back to him before hanging up.

“Your mom?” Bucky slurred out from the other side of the bed.

Steve swallowed back another curse, having hoped against hope that maybe Bucky had just settled back down and fallen asleep. Instead, Bucky sat partially upright, propped up on his right arm and gazing over at him. Winter continued to remain alert, although he seemed to have realized that this restlessness and early awakening wasn’t something he needed to intervene on. With a sigh, Steve placed his phone back on the nightstand and settled himself back in bed beside Bucky.

“My mom. She finally heard about the fire. Shit, Buck, I didn’t even realize I hadn’t told her.”

“A lot’s been happening,” Bucky murmured, lowering himself back to the bed. “Wasn’t your fault, Steve.”

“I know,” Steve said automatically.

Except that he didn’t know that. He should’ve called his mom to tell her what had happened. He should have called to check in on her health. He should have been there with her as she continued through chemo.

There were a lot of things he should have done.

With a groan, he rolled to his side, away from Bucky, and buried his head in his hands. A moment later, Bucky’s body curled around him, his breath warm on the back of Steve’s neck. That simultaneously raised and lowered his feelings of guilt, particularly as Bucky’s lips grazed his skin. He fought the urge to tell Bucky to go back to sleep, to stop. Obviously Bucky was awake and his goal was to comfort him but Steve had never felt quite this undeserving of any of that. Especially given that it was his fault Bucky was awake. It wasn’t as though Bucky had gotten much sleep since the fire – either because of nightmares or because his pain meds had worn off – and now that he was actually able to get the sleep he needed, Steve had ruined it for him. Last night had been one of the first nights where Bucky had slept quietly.

“I’m sorry, Buck,” he murmured miserably.

“Why’re you apologizing?” Bucky mumbled. “You didn’t do anything wrong. The past couple of weeks have been a shit show.”

“Yeah, well, you shouldn’t even be awake this early. And I should’ve called my mom sooner and - ”

Bucky cut him off before he could get another word out. “Shoulda’s aren’t gonna help, Steve. You didn’t call your mom and I’m awake. Can’t change either of those. Beating yourself up isn’t gonna get you anywhere.”

Steve released a pent-up breath and shifted closer to Bucky. The urge to argue remained but he managed to swallow back those words for the time being. Still, the restlessness didn’t quite leave. After a few moments of lying there, trying to sync his breathing to Bucky’s and failing, he muttered a few choice words and sat up. There was too much that needed to be done. Tony had stopped by during one of Steve’s classes the other day – which was great, not at all embarrassing, and definitely infuriating as Steve had to compete with a group of fans for Tony’s attention. Tony had brought a pile of paperwork for Steve to sign, something about insurance claims. If Steve had to be awake this early, he might as well get some of that done or work on an upcoming paper or do the reading for his class that he hadn’t even glanced at yet.

“Steve, just come back to bed,” Bucky said with a sigh.

“I can’t. I just can’t. Look, I have way too much shit to work on. I can’t sit still. But you don’t need to be up yet. Go back to sleep.”

He hoped against hope that would be enough to convince Bucky to stay put as he grabbed his clothes and headed into the bathroom, grateful to find that he’d beat the others there this morning. His reflection in the mirror slowly steamed up as he waited for the water to get warm in the shower. It was surprisingly easy to default to his new morning routine, despite the fact that his mind refused to shut down. It still didn’t feel quite right – he’d automatically reach for the shampoo or conditioner, expecting it to be where it had been in his apartment, only to come up empty handed – but at least it didn’t require much focus on his part. While he refused to go back to sleep, he definitely wasn’t in a place where he could concentrate.

Normally, a shower was perfect for clearing his head. With the water running over him, his muscles couldn’t help but unwind. There had been so many times when he’d used that as a trick, when he’d been stuck on a paper or irritated with the shit Tony always seemed to pull on him. But this time, he found himself getting tenser and tenser, his thoughts racing. When he finally turned the water off, as the other occupants of the townhouse would need to get ready, he was most decidedly in a worse mood than the one he’d been in since his mother called.

Once dressed, he headed straight downstairs. The townhouse was usually quiet at this time, unless he’d forgotten everyone else’s schedules, which he might have given the noises downstairs. That thought set his nerves on edge as the sounds of clattering dishes and food cooking drifted from the kitchen.

Walking into the kitchen, he stopped short when he found Bucky standing at the stove - Winter at his side, leaning against his legs. Bucky muttered curses to himself as he took what looked like a bowl full of eggs out of the microwave and tried to navigate placing them on a plate covered in sausage links. On the other side of the counter, several pieces of crispy bread popped up from the toaster, startling Bucky enough that he nearly flung the pepper container he’d been shaking over the eggs.

Steve cleared his throat and Bucky immediately turned towards him, looking almost guilty. Steve didn’t quite help matters, given that the first words out of his mouth were, “I thought I told you to go back to bed.”

Bucky stiffened. “I didn’t realize I had to follow your orders”

The tension in the room rose to critical levels. If Steve didn’t choose his next words carefully, he and Bucky were about to end up exploding on one another.

It took a lot of effort to swallow back any words that dared escape his lips before he could figure out exactly what he was about to say. When he finally trusted himself to speak, he said, “You don’t. I’m sorry.”

Some of the tension lifted. Enough that Bucky sighed. “I figured that since you were already up and had a lot of shit to deal with, I’d make you breakfast. I kinda didn’t think through what only having one arm would mean for cooking but it wasn’t too hard to remember some of the tricks I used before I got my fancy prosthetic. Microwave eggs aren’t too bad.”

Steve walked over to the counter, forcing himself to refrain from being overly helpful as Bucky struggled to spoon the eggs onto a plate and add the browned toast. His own experiences had taught him more than enough about how frustrating it was to have someone offer help when you didn’t need it and the last thing he wanted to do was put that on Bucky now. If Bucky needed his help, he’d ask for it. Still, Steve’s restlessness increased as he tried to patiently wait for Bucky to finish.

He reminded himself how nice it was that he was getting to eat breakfast with his boyfriend for the first time since getting out of the hospital. While Bucky had obviously continually been woken up as a result of Steve’s alarm, he rarely made it out of bed before Steve left for the day. Now Bucky was awake and relatively focused and functional and yet Steve still couldn’t quite bring himself to feel happy and enjoy himself. Not in the midst of everything else.

Maybe he needed to suck it up and work on that.

Steve moved on autopilot, bringing the plate of food over to the kitchen table, and sat down. Bucky ran a hand over Winter’s head, as though steadying himself, before picking up his own plate and following suit. For a few moments, there was nothing but silence as the two of them took a few bites of the food. Steve had to admit that while the microwaved eggs weren’t as great as the ones made in a pan, they weren’t half-bad. The tension didn’t quite lift but it felt a little easier to navigate. The fact that Bucky was eating at all seemed to be a positive sign; he’d only picked at food since getting out of the hospital.

Winter curled up at Bucky’s feet and Bucky paused in his eating to pet him. It was clear he was still on edge, and how couldn’t he be after everything? When Steve saw him in the morning – although Bucky was usually barely coherent or focused by the time he left for class when he was still awake at all – and then again in the afternoon or evening depending on the day, Bucky seemed to be coping as best he could. But the nightmares were there when he tried to sleep. Every so often, Steve also caught the fluctuations in Bucky’s emotions. For as much as he tried to hide it, the near death experience and hospital procedures – not to mention the injuries themselves – had clearly impacted him. Steve imagined that the emotions were likely higher when Bucky was alone, if he was trying to hide things as much when Steve and the others were around.

Considering all of that left Steve feeling guiltier. While Bucky had sworn up and down that he could handle being on his own all day, the fact that he hid his feelings when the others were around left him carrying that burden all on his own, especially now that he wasn’t sleeping all day like he had been early on. Granted, Natasha and Steve had both managed to find enough gaps in their schedule to accompany him to the weekly sessions with Dr. Jones he’d resumed after the fire and from what Steve could tell, the first session he’d had the previous day had helped. But how much could those sessions help after what had just happened?

“I can feel your mind going nonstop and I’ve gotta say that it’s making me nervous,” Bucky said, finally breaking the silence. “Anything you wanna share?”

Steve groaned. “It’s all of the usual shit, nothing out of the ordinary. Thinking about the fire. Thinking about my mom. Thinking about you. Worrying about you. Wondering how you’re coping with everything. Worrying about how you’re healing. Thinking we’re goddamn lucky that things weren’t worse. Angry because things were bad enough and I shouldn’t have to be grateful that we both got out of there alive when someone tried to kill us and you got injured.”

Then the words just started coming and he couldn’t stop them. “Thinking about all of the shit that I need to get signed and ready to go so that Tony can arrange for the work to start on the repairs for the shop, about whether I need to consider Tony’s offer of setting up a temporary office, at least for myself, so that I can get the customers’ needs met. Worrying about whether I’m going to end up failing out this semester because I can’t concentrate on my classes, and the last thing I need is something else on my plate because I can’t handle everything already there.”

He finally took a breath and then another because he hadn’t said that much to Bucky since everything happened. There had been bits and pieces of that sprinkled throughout everything he did say but most of it he’d swallowed back, especially if part of it had already slipped out. Hell, he’d probably shared more with Tony over the past few weeks and that made him feel like the worst person ever, that he would talk about everything with someone he’d barely been on speaking terms with and yet not share half of it with his boyfriend.

Somewhere in the midst of Steve’s tirade, Bucky had resumed petting Winter and he must have started getting anxious since Winter now stood, leaning into Bucky’s legs. Steve gave him the time needed to respond, although he was on the verge of just apologizing by the time Bucky opened his mouth.

“Steve, I definitely can’t say that I’m okay by any stretch of the imagination but I’m… I’m managing. Some days are better than others, probably less so now than before all of this shit happened – although that’s debatable – and, yeah, the bad days are pretty bad. But I can handle it. The nightmares suck and the headaches suck and I’d really love to have two operational arms but all of this shit is stuff I’ve been dealing with for awhile now already. Some of it’s a little worse, yeah, and some of it was just starting to go dormant – or as close to that as I’ll ever get – but it’s not my first rodeo. It’s not going to make me fall apart. I won’t let it do that to me.”

“Buck, that’s… that’s…” Steve stopped because he wasn’t quite sure what he was trying to say. Before he had the chance to figure that out, there were the sounds of footsteps on the stairs, heading down towards them, and Steve determined that it made the most sense to clam up for the time being.

Clint stumbled into the kitchen, heading straight for the coffee pot – which Bucky had filled earlier – and started to go through the motions of brewing a pot himself before realizing that was unnecessary. He stared at the coffee pot for a long moment, blinking a few times, before pouring himself a cup. He turned and nearly flung the cup out of his hand when he saw the two of them sitting at the table.

“Shit, guys. Make a noise or something,” he grumbled, reaching for a paper towel to wipe up the coffee that ended up on the floor. “I didn’t think anyone else was up.” His eyes narrowed. “Is everything alright? Did something else happen?”

“Nothing else happened,” Steve said quickly. “I just got a phone call this morning. It woke both of us up but it’s nothing to worry about.”

“You say that and it somehow makes me nervous.” Clint took a long sip of his coffee before speaking again. “But if you say everything’s fine, I’m gonna trust you on that.”

“Given all of the secrets you guys have been hiding lately, I don’t think it’s entirely fair not to trust us,” Bucky pointed out. “You’ve already admitted there’s shit you haven’t been telling me in particular.”

“Touché. Well, here’s something. I’m going to be home late tonight since I’m going out with my brother.”

“Nat and Sam already aware of that?” Steve inquired.

Clint nodded. “I’m not stupid enough to hide that from them.”

“You gonna need back up?” Bucky asked and Steve shot him a look. “What? I wasn’t offering myself. I know I’m no good in a fight right now.”

“No back up necessary,” Clint said hurriedly. “My brother just has some information for me, ‘s all. I’ll give you all an update once I get back.”

Steve’s breath caught in his throat, though he couldn’t quite say exactly what about Clint’s words brought on that sudden surge of anxiety. Before he even knew what he was doing, he was on his feet and both Clint and Bucky were staring at him.

“Speaking of updates…” Steve glanced at his watch, as though incredibly concerned with the time. “I should probably see if I can still meet up with Tony before my class. I have to finish signing a couple of documents for him so that we can get the work done on the shop.”

He pressed a quick kiss to Bucky’s lips before saying goodbye to him and Clint, and barely remembered to grab his bag before heading for the front door. He made it halfway down the block before he pieced together what had led to that anxiety.

All of the others were handling the situation. The twins had gone public, Natasha and Clint had whatever the hell they were doing, and even Tony had some level of action – quite a bit, actually, ever since the press conference. On the other hand, he was just sitting around, doing nothing. He wasn’t trying to track down the people who had burned his business and home to the ground. Hell, he wasn’t even directly involved in the repairs. He just stood there while everyone around him managed the situation in whatever way they could.

He was tired of sitting back and doing nothing.

Maybe it was time to change that.

-~-

Jane couldn’t stop tapping her foot against the floor as she glanced again and again at her watch. Logically, she’d never known Darcy to arrive anywhere on time, with the exception of class – sometimes – but each minute that ticked by made her wonder if Darcy would actually show up. It wasn’t like Darcy to completely bail on her but seeing as they’d agreed to meet in person to talk about everything, Jane couldn’t help but worry that Darcy wouldn’t come through. Mostly because it hadn’t been like her friend to not tell her anything until the entire world knew. Still, she could understand, after seeing the press conference by the Maximoff twins, why Darcy had been close-lipped about everything and why there had been all sorts of secrecy.

The press conference had distracted her from the papers she was grading that night and she’d picked up her phone more times than she could count, debating whether to dial Darcy’s number, to send a text, to do something to let Darcy know that she knew. But of course Darcy would already be aware of that; if not assuming that Jane already had seen the press conference, being aware that at some point the news would trickle down to her. As much as Jane had wanted answers, it somehow felt wrong to call Darcy right after the press conference cut off the air. The situation Darcy and the twins were in was bigger than she ever could have imagined and the fallout from that press conference was more than enough for her friend to be dealing with.

Later that night, well after Jane expected to hear from anyone, she’d been woken up by a text message from Darcy just saying, Can I come by the lab tomorrow? I think we need to talk.

A few back-and-forth text messages later and noon had been confirmed as the meeting time. Now it was 12:15 and Darcy still hadn’t shown up yet. While she was consistently late, Jane somehow felt that this was more concerning. Although Darcy frequently arrived well after the meeting time, she usually sent a text message or gave some indication to Jane when she’d gotten distracted or spent longer than expected getting ready.

At the least, the lab was thankfully empty at this time. There were no visiting scientists from other schools or countries or programs this week and while Bruce had been spending late hours at the lab every night he studiously took his lunch break every single day. Granted, that didn’t seem to be his choice as much as Betty coming by at that time to ensure that he took care of himself and ate at least one meal during the day.

Jane had also been doing her best to keep an eye on Bruce. While he hadn’t had any episodes like the one she’d witnessed a few weeks back – hopefully because even with the stress of midterms he had stayed away from energy drinks – she could pick up the signs of stress easily; the dark bags under his eyes, the hunching of his shoulders, and the irritability. The irritability was the most prominent, from what she could see. Bruce had always seemed reasonably even-tempered but recently she’d seen him throw things, slam a fist down on the table, and create some truly impressive curses when an experiment failed to work as designed.

When Betty was there, she would often convince Bruce to take a walk with her at those times. When they returned, he always seemed to be back to his well-mannered, calm self. Sometimes he would apologize for any disruptions his outbursts might have caused for Jane. Jane mostly wondered about the relationship between Bruce and Betty. The two of them were obviously close but there seemed to be a wall between the two of them as well, at least in the romantic sense. It was clear just from watching their interactions that things between them obviously could have gone that way but it seemed as though something was preventing that from happening.

Not that it was any of Jane’s business.

Her thoughts on Bruce and Betty were cut off as the door opened and Darcy stepped inside. Jane was a bit surprised to find that Darcy looked, well, like Darcy. For some reason, after the recent revelations, Jane had expected things to look different, to reflect how much things had changed in her world. But there was Darcy, shrugging off her jacket to reveal the knit sweater underneath, wearing her beanie and abandoning contacts in favor of her black-framed glasses. Exactly the Darcy that Jane had always known.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said, struggling to catch her breath. “I would’ve texted but I was driving and I thought I’d rather not cause a car accident or get a ticket and traffic was stop and go, so it wasn’t like I had the chance to text when we weren’t moving.”

“That’s fine,” Jane said quickly. “Catch your breath. We’ve got awhile before Bruce comes back.”

Darcy tossed her jacket over the back of a nearby chair and then flopped down in it, pausing long enough to tug a bag of chips out of the pocket, offering them to Jane. “Want any?”

“Thanks, but I’m good,” Jane said, taking a seat of her own. There were a few moments of silence, broken only by the sound of Darcy munching on the chips, before Jane finally said, “So” and waited to see how Darcy would respond.

It took a few moments, during which time Jane could see Darcy sorting through her thoughts. “So…” she echoed. “It’s been awhile and a lot’s happened. I mean, a lot’s been happening that I couldn’t tell you and now you know why I couldn’t tell you.”

“I figured as much once I saw the press conference footage. It all started to make sense in some way. I guess you’d known all along, huh?”

“I knew bits and pieces,” Darcy said, after a few moments of thought. “I mean, Pietro hadn’t kept me in the dark. There’s a bit more that I know beyond what was said at the press conference.”

Her eyes held a challenge, as though she dared Jane to ask her those questions. The thought was tempting, in some ways, but Jane had already put the pieces together in a way that formed a semi-coherent narrative. If Darcy wanted to share, she wouldn’t stop her, but she wasn’t about to interrogate her on the subject.

“Since the press conference, I’ve been able to understand why things have seemed to different lately,” Jane carefully said. “Like the fact that you had told me that Peter – I mean, Pietro – had been in an accident. I’m guessing that was what he was referencing when he said that he’d been shot. So, I’m not all that concerned with finding out details about your boyfriend and his sister. I’m more worried about you and how you’re handling everything.” She took a deep breath before adding, “I’m also worried about whether you’re in danger.”

Darcy seemed a bit surprised by the question. “I mean, I guess I am, technically speaking. Pietro’s been worried about that all along. That’s why I still carry my taser with me.”

“What’s a taser going to do against a gun?” Jane asked quietly.

Darcy shrugged. “Probably not much. But it’s something. It’s not like I can get out of this situation at this point. It’s not like I’m going to get out of this situation, because the only way out would be to end things with Pietro. And I’m not doing that.”

“He means that much to you,” Jane said, resisting the urge to turn it into a question.

Darcy nodded. “Yeah, I mean, it’s only been a few months… but I really like him. None of this shit is his fault and despite everything that’s happened and that this is his first relationship, he’s a good boyfriend.”

Jane slowly nodded. “Alright. I can’t argue with that. It just seems like… it seems like a lot for you to be dealing with.”

Darcy made a face. “Yeah, it’s harder now. He’s in a ‘safe house’ and I barely get to see him or talk to him. I get that it’s supposed to be for his safety but it sucks. At least when he was in the hospital, I could visit him every day. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad that he’s healed enough to have been discharged but I miss him.” She exhaled a long, apparently pent up breath. “I hate what happened but I am so happy that the twins went public. I hated having to hide things from you. You know I wouldn’t have done that if I had any other choice.”

Jane quickly said, “I know. Trust me, Darcy, I know. I’m sorry you were in that situation. But I’m not angry or upset that you hadn’t told me who the twins were or anything about what was happening.”

“So… we’re still good?” Darcy asked, twisting the fabric at the cuff of her sweater.

“You don’t even need to ask that. Of course we’re still good.”

Darcy looked relieved. “I thought so but I wasn’t sure.” She allowed a beat of silence before asking, “Maybe this is a stupid question but how’ve you been? I feel like we’ve barely talked at all in months.”

Jane couldn’t help but laugh in response to that. “I’ve been okay. Nothing as exciting as what’s been going on with you. My life’s basically just been filled with the usual stressors. Classes. My dissertation. Teaching and grading. Spending time with Thor.”

Darcy’s eyes sparkled. “So, things are still going well between you and Thor?”

“They are. We still spend the majority of our time at my apartment. After all of the stuff with his brother last semester – I think we covered that when it happened?”

Darcy shrugged. “I got bits and pieces, both from you and Steve.”

Jane nodded and continued, “With all of that, it’s been easier just to spend time away from his family. I’m still not his brother’s favorite person. But in terms of my relationship with Thor overall, it’s good. He’s incredibly supportive and I enjoy his company.”

“You know, I am proud of you. I never thought you would allow yourself to balance a boyfriend and grad school. Thor’s been good for you in a lot of ways.”

“I agree but I do think you’re getting off track,” Jane pointed out. “I didn’t think we were talking about me and my love life. I thought we were talking about you and yours.”

“I’ve said everything there is to say about mine,” Darcy said with a shrug. “You know what’s going on with Pietro. You know that he’s in a safe house for the time being. You know that I’m staying with him despite everything that’s been going on. That’s about all there is to it.” Before Jane could respond, she grinned and inquired, “Now, when is your dissertation defense coming up?”

Jane groaned. “No time soon. But thank you for reminding me that I have paperwork for that I need to be submitting.”

“I can promise you that on the day you defend, I’ll be there, cheering for you,” Darcy promised. “I still don’t get how that entire process goes.”

“And I hope you never need to know because it’s hellish,” Jane said with a sigh. “How about I promise not to question you on your boyfriend and you promise not to question me on my dissertation. Sound fair?”

“Sounds fair. Now, any chance I could tempt you out of the lab for lunch?”

“As long as it’s for anything but coffee. I’ve been working way too many doubles at the shop lately.” Jane locked her computer and tucked her latest data in one of the drawers. “How long do you have before you need to be back at work?”

Leaning over to secure the drawer, she didn’t catch Darcy’s expression until she straightened up but from the long silence that followed, something was wrong. When she finally did straighten up, Darcy gaped at her. Her own face must have conveyed confusion, since Darcy immediately spoke.

“You mean, you didn’t hear?” When Jane shook her head, Darcy continued. “Shit, I figured you did, especially since you were up to date on the news about the twins. Shield burned down a week or two ago. Maybe longer. It’s been awhile, even if it seems like just yesterday I was there.”

Jane was quiet for a long moment as she put the pieces together. “Darcy… everything with the twins… and then a fire at the shop? Is all of this connected?”

Darcy shrugged. “That’s way above my pay grade, such as it is right now. It actually happened before the twins went public with everything. That was part of why they did.”

“So, now we’ve got people with guns and arsonists. This is sounding seriously screwed up, Darcy. What is this mess that you’re caught up in?”

“I’m not caught up in anything. It’s just unfolding all around me.” Her expression softened. “I’m okay, Jane. I promise. If I were concerned about my safety, I would let you know. But I’m doing everything I can to keep myself safe.” Then, she grinned once again. “Right now I’m the most concerned about getting some pizza.”

Jane didn’t have the energy to argue. After all, she was quite hungry and Darcy wasn’t the easiest person to argue with on a full stomach.

She slipped her keys into her purse. “Lead the way.”

-~-

The sun didn’t take the chill out of the air but after far too many hours spent inside the lab or his studio apartment, Bruce didn’t mind his throat turning raw with ice as he breathed. It was just above freezing – maybe 35 degrees – and the cup of tea in his glove-covered hands didn’t do a whole lot but it was something. He’d known he couldn’t stay inside for another minute. While he kept thinking through his “to do” list and every item on it – not to mention wondering how there were enough hours in the day to complete everything – he also knew that there were benefits to taking breaks.

Or at least that was what Betty kept saying to him.

He took another sip of the tea, wishing it was something other than herbal because he would have given a lot for something with adequate caffeine. Well, perhaps not anything, seeing as if he were willing to accept the consequences, there was plenty of caffeine right at his fingertips given the coffee shops on campus and in the break room near the lab. Still, tea – specifically non-caffeinated or low caffeinated tea – was safer. Anything more than that would shoot his heart rate up and that wasn’t something he particularly wanted to deal with in the middle of trying to survive grad school and work commitments.

The recent text message he’d received from Tony Stark had already done enough to increase his heart rate.

He still didn’t quite know what to make of Tony. When he’d been granted the scholarship, he never imagined Tony would show any interest in him and his studies outside of whatever necessary to ensure publicity. While he respected Tony’s accomplishments in his field – or fields – of studies, he knew Tony’s reputation. Even Betty had warned him more than once, cautioning him about Tony’s interest in him.

He trusted her and her logic but at the same time he wondered if her father could have been a part of the problem, particularly given that her father was a part of many other problems in their relationship with one another. He knew that her father and the Starks had plenty of business dealings over the years – that much had been discussed the first time Tony showed up at the lab. He couldn’t help but wonder what type of relations Betty had with Tony over the years, as well as what messages she had been told over dinner conversations with her father.

On the other hand, given Betty’s relationship with her father, Bruce had to assume that anything her father told her about Tony would probably make her do the opposite. Which meant that it likely had little to do with any negative comments her father might have made over the years and more likely that they were positive comments, therefore leaving her suspicious of Tony and his motives.

Not for the first time, Bruce wished he had someone else he could talk to about all of this, rather than the two people directly involved. He wasn’t someone who had ever had much in the way of friends and while he maintained collegial relationships with his peers, enough to collaborate on projects and share notes for classes, he didn’t have anyone he could go to with this type of problem. He sometimes became frustrated with himself for the fact that now, years after he’d made it to living on his own, he still feared getting close to anyone who he might have to bring home, anyone who might find out the type of environment he lived in.

Who might find themselves in the crosshairs or start wondering about what was going on in Bruce’s life.

It was safer to keep everyone at a distance and even now, when it wouldn’t have been hard to invite someone over to watch a movie in his cramped studio apartment, he couldn’t quite bring himself to cross that invisible line. At least not when it came to anyone other than Betty. He still couldn’t quite figure out how she managed to cross that line in the first place and she’d been with him for what seemed like so long it was hard to imagine a time when they weren’t this close. But even with that, there were some other lines he wasn’t willing to cross with her.

There was a reason each time she hinted about going out to dinner – or at this point just directly asked him – he made it clear that if they did grab a bite to eat together, that was all it was. Just a bite to eat. Two friends spending time together. There needed to be boundaries in place and going out to a dinner as anything more than friends wasn’t something he was willing – or at least not ready – to do.

Then again, those boundaries hadn’t exactly worked particularly well. They protected him when it came to situations like dinner. They didn’t protect him quite so well when he and Betty were alone in his studio apartment together and the review of the data led to movie watching and she ended up half-asleep on his shoulder. Then he would just give her the couch and sleep on the floor and deflect the questions about why he didn’t set up his couch bed to share with her rather than risk a sore back and locked up neck.

But that was Betty and he felt more comfortable with her than anyone else in his life. Now he had Tony Stark’s invitation hanging over his head and he didn’t quite know what to do with it. It wasn’t as though Tony hadn’t alluded to the possibility for a visit during their first meeting – that had come through clearly enough – but somehow Bruce hadn’t prepared for the eventuality of it. He hadn’t considered exactly which choice he would make. He’d figured that eventually Tony would lose interest in him, now that the publicity was more or less gone, unless of course Tony needed to improve his image in the media.

Which might have been exactly what was going on here. With the recent accusations by the Maximoff twins and Tony orchestrating that – or at least that was what the news was saying – there were equal measures of people who thought that Tony was a figure of heavenly proportion for helping out two poor, abused children and those who thought this was all a ploy by Tony to get some media coverage and tear apart Talbot’s reputation at the expense of two vulnerable children’s lives. The articles on both made Bruce far too uncomfortable to read through, for different reasons.

Maybe, ultimately, the problem was that Bruce didn’t quite know which one of those to believe. While the focus of some of those articles on the Maximoff twins as the poor, abused children left him shaken and feeling sick, that didn’t make him lose trust in Tony. It didn’t necessarily make Bruce trust him more – but, then, trust wasn’t something that came naturally to him – but it didn’t change his view of Tony in any way. If those other articles, the ones with the spin that Tony was doing this purely for his own gain, were true… well, those left Bruce in a much, much different position.

He wasn’t going to let Tony use him as a stepping-stone. Not for that, especially.

But, at the same time, Tony had been anything but pushy with him. He’d stopped by those few times, just to chat, and there had been the occasional text message exchanged as well. Still, he hadn’t pushed any boundaries. Even his invitation was just that – an invitation. He was giving Bruce the room to back out if he wanted to.

Or maybe he was just giving Bruce the illusion of that.

Sometimes it was hard to know the difference.

He was distracted from his thoughts as a set of footsteps approached and a moment later, a figure settled down on the bench beside him. Recognition took a matter of seconds – he’d already recognized the tapping of her low heels against the walkway and now that she sat beside him, he could smell her perfume was well – and he exhaled slowly.

“Is asking how you found me a stupid question?”

“A little,” Betty said. “You’re far too predicable, Bruce. I figured if you weren’t in the lab you were probably here, getting your tea fix for the day and freezing yourself to death.”

“It’s not that cold,” he protested, despite the fact that his breath was clearly visible in the air. “Well, maybe it’s a little bit cold.”

“Stubborn,” she noted. “What’s up? Is it just school stress or did something else happen?”

He shrugged. “Tony Stark invited me over to his lab. That’s all.”

“Tony Stark invited you to his lab and that’s what has led to you freezing yourself out here?” She raised her eyebrows “Don’t get me wrong, Bruce, but that seems like a bit of an overreaction. After all, he offered you that same invitation the first time he came by.”

“But it was different,” Bruce protested, trying to pretend that there wasn’t a part of him that was grateful she wasn’t insisting that going to the lab would be a terrible decision. “It had no specifics and somehow that made it easier to hear. This invitation has specifics though. He’s invited me over for next week.”

“And you’re not sure if you want to go?” she asked, although it somehow sounded more like a statement.

“And I’m not sure I want to go,” he agreed. “I’m not sure what it would mean if I did go.”

Betty remained quiet for a long moment before saying, “Any chance you’d be willing to continue this conversation inside of a building with actual heat?”

“I could consider that. Would the lab work or are you thinking we need more privacy?”

“I was thinking that it might be worth popping into one of the private study rooms in the library,” she suggested. “Unless of course you’re fine with having this conversation in front of Jane…?”

“A study room it is,” he quickly accepted. “Lead the way.”

He followed Betty to the library, reluctantly discarding his half-finished tea in a trashcan upon seeing the reminders of “No food or drink in the library” posted on the door. Sneaking it in probably wouldn’t have been that hard but the last thing Bruce wanted was to have all eyes – or any eyes - on him for any reason. Better to abandon the cup and be grateful for the minimal amounts of caffeine already threading through his veins given that he could get himself another one later on if necessary.

Thankfully, the study rooms were unoccupied at this time and it wasn’t hard to find one and claim it as their own. Bruce initially remained standing once inside, waiting to see where Betty sat, and when she opted to sit on the table itself, chose a chair reasonably close but not directly beside her.

“So, talk to me about what’s going on,” Betty said, when Bruce failed to speak. “Stark invited you, you’re not sure if you want to go, and it’s ramping up your heart rate.” With those last words, she glanced pointedly at his wrist and he made a face.

“Obviously it’s not ramping up my heart rate that much or you’d know because this stupid thing wouldn’t stop beeping,” he pointed out. “So obviously it’s not ramping it up that much. I’m just torn on what to do. I don’t want to upset Tony by rejecting the offer. Not when he’s already been so nice to me.”

“Alright, so you don’t want to upset him but you also don’t want to go. What makes you hesitate on going?”

There, he found that it took him a few moments to find the words despite the fact that he’d just been thinking about this very subject. Being completely open and honest would mean revealing a bit more on his own history to Betty than what he already had, although probably not anything she hadn’t already pieced together on her own.

“Sometimes… sometimes I get this feeling that because of the scholarship, I’m just someone – some thing – that Tony owns. I feel like this is going to make me somehow even more… indebted to him? I don’t know if that’s exactly the word I was going for but that about sums it up. I feel like taking this invitation shortens the leash on me, if that makes any sense.”

“It makes some sense and I can see where you’re coming from.” There was a pause, before she added, “But from what I’ve seen, Tony’s always seemed pretty friendly. You know I don’t trust him but I don’t think inviting you to the lab would make you indebted in any way.”

“I know. That’s not my main concern. I’m more worried that this is some sort of publicity stunt, after everything that’s been going on in the media with him lately. I’m worried that he’s going to use me for something. I’m not even sure what. But that’s what I’m afraid of.”

“After what happened with the Maximoff twins, you’re worried he might use your own history to improve his image or something like that,” Betty said, coming uncomfortably close to reading his mind.

“Something like that. I mean, I know I have some control over how much of that he knows or finds out. It’s not as though there was much in the media that he could track down on me. I would imagine that even if he has done some sort of background check, that’s probably already happened. Which means that visiting the lab probably wouldn’t change anything if he’s known what he knows all along.”

“I would agree with that. I also don’t see how visiting the lab would require you to disclose your full history to him, if he doesn’t already know. Besides, if he’s enough of a dick to ask, then you tell him to fuck off. You don’t owe him any of that, Bruce. You don’t owe anyone that, unless you’re ready and you want to tell them.”

That hurt a bit, given that he hadn’t exactly been overly disclosing with her either, even though she knew more than pretty much anyone else. But she was right, he didn’t have to tell anyone his full history and that included his best friend. Just because he could tell her didn’t mean he had to; she’d just made that clear and he was more than willing to believe her on that.

“So, what you’re saying is that I should go,” he said slowly.

“I’m saying that ultimately it’s your choice whether or not you go,” she said, with a half-shrug. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. All I’m saying is that I’m uncertain of whether those concerns you’ve expressed to me are necessary. I don’t see them as things you do not have any control over. If you honestly want to visit with Stark at his lab, you’re more than welcome to. I don’t think it will mean that you’re indebted to him or that you have to tell him everything about you, so that he can use that in his next publicity campaign.”

Bruce took in her words and let a few minutes of silence pass as he sorted through them. Everything she said made sense and, once again, the fact that Betty was in support of him visiting Tony’s lab made him feel more confident that if he made that decision, it would not be the wrong one. Finally, after a few moments, he exhaled slowly and nodded.

“Alright. Then I guess my decision has been made, right? I’ll text Tony back, let him know I’m more than willing to see the lab.” He managed a smile before adding, “Who knows? Maybe I’ll get to play around with some new toys.”

“Maybe you will. You would be going to a lab that belongs to Tony Stark. He does have the best of the best equipment.” To her credit, there was only a tinge of bitterness to her voice.

“I’ll definitely take some notes and sneak any pictures I can,” he offered. “Who knows, maybe it’ll help break up the writer’s block as I move forward with my dissertation proposal.”

“Maybe it will.” Betty now was the one to exhale slowly. “Bruce, Tony isn’t the only thing I wanted to talk about. I feel like you’ve been avoiding me lately.”

There he was, caught in his own trap. Coming here with Betty may have been a mistake since now there was no option for - as she had so clearly commented on - ‘avoiding’ her. It wasn’t as though anything major had happened over the past few weeks that led to him making the decision to distance himself, more that quite a few smaller things occurred and built up and he felt that there were no other options except to spend time with her only when he had to. Midterms and everything else made that significantly easier because he could readily blame studying, paper writing, and grading as reasons for his inability to spend as much time with her as before.

“Betty, it’s…” he trailed off, trying to find the words. “I just… I’ve been…”

“Please don’t tell me that you’ve been busy,” she said quietly. “I know it’s more than that. If you can’t tell me now, then just say that. I won’t push you. I only ask that you tell me at some point. Because your friendship means a lot to me and I’d do a lot to avoid losing that.”

Bruce considered that. If he were brave, he would take the opening and start talking to Betty about everything on his mind. But he wasn’t ready to do that, not quite yet. So he took the easy way out.

“I’m not ready now. But I will be.”

He caught the sheen of disappointment in her eyes but, true to her word, she nodded. “Fair enough. I’m holding you to that.”

-~-

Somehow – and he wasn’t quite sure how – Barney’s hotel room looked worse than the first time Clint visited. Maybe that wasn’t quite as surprising in light of the fact that it had been several weeks since Barney got into town and set up shop here. But now the clothes covered the majority of the room, mixed in with various takeout containers that may or may not have been filled with food or at least bits of food.

Clearly his brother hadn’t been about to let the maid in to clean, given the assorted weaponry spaced out across the room as well.

Then again, Clint probably had no place in judging his brother for this disaster. The last time he’d seen a room that looked quite this bad, the room had been his dorm room. Like brother, apparently like brother. That was how things went.

He carefully carved a path through the mess on the floor, hoping that nothing attached itself to his shoes on the way, and then settled down on the edge of the bed. His brother sat on the other side, casually resuming cleaning a gun – a project he’d apparently abandoned in the few moments it took to let his brother into the room – and not saying a word. Clint waited as patiently as he could to see if his brother would say anything and then, finally, gave up on him.

“Why did you call me here?” he questioned.

“Did I call you?” Barney asked, his brow furrowing. “I can’t remember. For some reason, I could have sworn that you called me. Whatever. Either way, I have some stuff to tell you.”

Clint felt relief fill his body. “Yeah? What did you get? Any information on who set the fire at Shield? Anything about the twins?”

“Nothing that specific. No one’s owning up to the fire from what I can tell. At least not among the Russians. Which I guess might suggest they weren’t responsible. Word on the street, of course, supports the fact that it wasn’t accidental. But no one’s saying anything.”

“Well, shit, Barn, that’s not helpful. I need to know who did that.”

“I know you do,” Barney said easily. “Which is why I’m keeping my ear to the ground on that. I was more interested in letting you know some of the recent developments. You see, there’s some new faces on the street.”

“Yeah, I told you about one of ‘em. There was the kid Wanda ran into a few weeks back. The one named Tommy.”

“Right. I followed up on that. Seems like he came in from New Jersey. Along with the Italians.”

A beat of silence followed Barney’s words before Clint blurted out, “The Italians? Are you fucking shitting me? Because we didn’t have enough going on with the Russians and the Irish and everyone else on the streets?”

Barney shrugged. “That’s what I’ve heard. I don’t have many specifics. Just that the Italians have come in from New Jersey and it seems that Tommy came from that location as well, presumably with them.”

“Shit, so the Italians have a teenage kid running with them. Awesome.” He sighed. “Well, I guess that’s not a problem for the moment since the twins are safe.”

“Yeah, I’d been meaning to ask you if you know where they are,” Barney said, and something about his tone immediately set Clint’s nerves on edge.

He studied his brother’s expression for a long moment. “Why do you ask? What about that is important for you to know?”

Barney carefully placed the gun back on the bedspread and raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Whoa, easy, Clint. I didn’t mean anything by that. I was just curious.”

Clint narrowed his eyes. “I don’t believe a word of that but here’s the answer to your question: I don’t know where they are and I’m not going to find out.”

“I’m not asking you to. I’m sorry, that was a stupid question on my part.”

Barney looked almost genuinely contrite but Clint wasn’t fooled. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Who would you be getting that information for?”

“No one,” Barney returned quickly. “Shit, Clint, you’re far too suspicious.”

“I’m suspicious because I know you, Barney. I know you’ll sell out even the people you care about if there’s a high enough bidder.”

Now it was Barney’s turn to narrow his eyes and cross his arms over his chest. “What am I going to have to do to prove myself to you? Seriously. Tell me. Because I’m sick and tired of you questioning me for everything I do or say and accusing me of things I haven’t done or am not intending on doing.”

That threw Clint a bit, although if anything, he felt heat burning on the back of his neck and his throat tightened – all signs that he was verging on losing his temper. On the one hand, his brother had a point – if Clint was going to call him untrustworthy, maybe he did need a clear distinction for what would indicate trustworthy or reparative behaviors – but on the other, this felt like just another signal of his brother manipulating him.

“I just want you to be honest and truthful. That’s all I want, Barn. I want you to show me that I can depend on you and that when push comes to shove, you’ve got my back and you’re not going to sell me out to the Russians or something like that.”

“Have I sold you out to the Russians yet?” Barney shot back. “I’ve had a couple of months where I could’ve done that. As far as I know, the only people you’ve tangled with have been the Irish and that hasn’t been on me.”

“Then, again, why does it matter to you where the twins are now?” Clint asked. “They’re safe. That’s all you need to know. The less people who have that information, the better. If you actually cared about them, you wouldn’t ask something so stupid.”

“Again, obviously I fucked up by asking and I’m sorry about that. I shouldn’t have asked that question. Can we just rewind and start over?”

Clint was quiet for a long, long moment before he murmured, “Not unless you can rewind way back to when we were kids and rewrite everything that’s happened.”

Barney echoed Clint’s silence with several moments of his own. “Fair enough. If you’ve got nothing else you want to know then I guess…”

“Then you guess it’s time for me to leave,” Clint said. “And I agree. You know how to contact me if you need to.”

“I do. I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”

Clint walked to the door to add, “And next time, if you’ve got such limited information, we don’t need to meet.”

“One, I could swear that you asked to meet this time. Two, you say that we don’t need to meet but I’d rather not disclose any of that information over the phone line. For both of our sakes. You never know who might be listening.”

Finding an argument in that was hard, if not impossible, so Clint just shrugged and said, “Good point. I’ll talk to you when I talk to you, Barn.”

Before he could open the door, Barney quietly, sadly said, “Seriously, Clint. What’s it gonna take? I can’t change what’s happened in the past. What will make you believe I just want to help and make up for everything I’ve done? Something like taking a bullet for you?”

“That would be a good start,” Clint said, his voice equally as quiet, and then, without another word, he left.

He tried not to feel as though a weight had fallen over both of them despite the fact that he could no longer see his brother as the door shut behind him.