Therapy

Bucky stands in front of the door to Steve’s apartment, it was hard to think of it as his home too now, with no real interest of going inside. But he had to at least pretend he was organizing things and stuff. He had some money saved, barely, but it would probably be enough for first and last so he could at least move out and figure shit out elsewhere. After a few minutes of deliberation he almost turns to leave but Steve decides to open that door at that exact moment, his face lighting up when he finds Bucky there. “Bucky, you’re back, thank god I had no clue where you went and Phil refused to say anything and-”

“I’m moving out,” he says bluntly, “I’m just here to get all my stuff together before I find a place and go.” There, it was out, he didn’t have to worry about ripping the damn metaphorical Band-Aid off now.

Steve’s face falls and Bucky doesn’t want to feel guilty, shouldn’t feel guilty, but he does. “Oh,” he says quietly, “okay then. Umm, I have something for you then,” he says and he retreats into the apartment. Bucky follows reluctantly because he sort of needed to go in anyways because all his stuff was here and he needed to organize it before moving out. And thankfully Phil stopped looking at creepy basement apartments so he might actually live somewhere decent. Granted on his budget he wasn’t going to be living anywhere spectacular but it was better than awkwardly living with Steve.

Steve disappears into his room and comes out with a thick envelope before handing to Bucky. He hands the envelope right back, “I don’t want your money, I have my own,” he says in a tone that might have been snippier than strictly necessary.

“It isn’t my money, it’s your half of the rent. I set the money aside for you and just paid it myself in case you ever decided to go back to school,” Steve admits quietly.

The notion that Steve had gone out of his way to lie to Bucky about his share in the bills, regardless of his good intentions, made Bucky’s blood boil. It was a Dom thing to do and Steve fucking knew it, and instead of talking to Bucky about it he decided to just keep shit to himself.
“Thanks,” he snaps, snatching the envelope back and working to move around Steve so he could just get his shit in order and go. Phil and Clint were nice enough to house him at the moment and he was intent on going back there as fast as possible.

“Bucky,” Steve says and he tries to reach out to Bucky but he pulls away before Steve managed to get a grip on him.

“Don’t you ‘Bucky’ me, Steve, this is wrong and you know it. You purposefully went out of your way to act as much like my Dom as you could without telling me out of some misguided hope that I might love you one day. That isn’t okay; actually it’s actively creepy. You don’t get to pull this shit and you know that, you’d never do this with anyone else and I have no idea how to take that,” he says. Did he just have ‘victim’ fucking tattooed onto his forehead or something? Or pushover or some other thing like that? Because Steve was always good about his Dom practices and for some reason he threw that all out because… why? Because Bucky is a sucker or something?

You can make your own decisions when you’re capable and considering you’re a fucking idiot that’ll be never. He can’t help but remember Brock’s words and wondering if, on some level, Steve agreed with them. Why else would he go so far out of the way to make sure Bucky didn’t have any choice? It made sense he guessed, and Bucky has never been the most sensible decision maker in the world, Brock wasn’t wrong really.

“Bucky-” Steve tries again but Bucky flees, not wanting to hear that his best and oldest friend thought he was an idiot incapable of making his own decisions. Clearly it was true; every decision he’s ever made had turned into a fucking disaster. Including the one where he decided that trusting Steve with at least some of his biological needs was a reasonable thing to do.

*

It took effort but she, Obadiah, and Tony managed to settle business overseas, just in time to get stuck going to some terrible gala in which Pepper would be trailing around after Tony to smooth over his messes. He was better suited to the behind the scenes work but Obadiah insisted on shoving him as far into the light as possible in the name of learning the business. Pepper thought he had an ulterior motive but she didn’t have evidence to back that up, nor could she state a reason why ‘learning the business’ would be a bad thing. Tony responded well to what he considered logical arguments, if something seemed questionable to him he had a habit of just tuning out of the conversation. It was as useful as it was irritating. Actually that was a lie, it was more irritating than anything.

Regardless it left her going around smoothing over Tony’s brash attitude so he didn’t lose business with his inability to learn social rules. One of the things Tony decided he didn’t need to listen to because he found the rules stupid, it’s gotten him into trouble more than once. Thankfully there were other rules that Tony did find use for and made strict efforts to stick to, namely anything regarding sex or whatever BDSM practices he might be into. Pepper already knew far too much about him on that front than she would like, more so if someone raised a fuss in an attempt to get money. He followed the contracts he made to a tee always, which was a damn blessing given the man’s long list of one-night stands.

She hoped with Bucky around he might resist picking someone up at the damn gala because she didn’t feel like smoothing that over too. If Tony ever learned tact she would be eternally grateful because it would save her so much trouble. The only saving grace to this whole thing was that Natasha was around to go with her. It would make things at least slightly more bearable for her, even if she would have to compensate for Natasha’s lack of social skills. Oh, she could fake it well, but unless Natasha was taking on an entirely new persona she had awful social skills. She was naturally a bit goofy, relying on sharp wit and humor that not everyone understood and her general inability to connect easily to her peers in upscale social settings was glaringly obvious. She and Tony got along famously though, ignoring all the social rules and making inappropriate bets. Sometimes Pepper wished Natasha would fake it in these situations but most of the time she was just happy to have Natasha around.

Work took up a lot of time for both of them so when they had time together Pepper did her best to enjoy it, even if she had to drag Natasha and Tony away from the bar. Shots were not a thing you were allowed to do at a gala and they’d both do it just to prove they could out drink the other. Natasha, at least, retained self-control while drunk but Tony was just more of himself, namely a loud, brash asshole. Pepper would do without fielding that media mess, thank you. She loved them both anyways, even if she had to work double time to cover their asses.

Natasha exits the shower looking refreshed like usual, at least until she saw the dress Pepper had picked out for her on the bed. For a moment Pepper flounders because there was no way she could manage to kneel in this dress or the shoes she was wearing but she settles for sitting on the edge of their bed, head bowed as Natasha inspected her outfit. She was nervous, Natasha loathed being doted on, and she hated formal wear even more. Both were things Pepper was fond of but Natasha was not the type with a preference for a service sub. Fortunately Tony needed someone who organized everything in his life so Pepper let most of that instinct to organize and serve there and Natasha was fine with it. Thankful for it, actually, as she had explained to Pepper once. Whatever it was that happened to her in her childhood it made her overly self-sufficient and now she had a difficult time accepting help.

Sometimes she would allow Pepper to do small things though, like choosing an outfit for her given that she was painfully inept at matching things. She usually either wore red or black because she knew both looked fine on her. Occasionally, when she came home bruised and damaged, she would let Pepper clean the wounds. It was intimate, Natasha letting Pepper in like this, and a relatively new part of their relationship. Natasha tended to restrict play to the bedroom when she was at her wits end and her instinct to act as someone’s Dom was taking over but she was trying to extend that some for Pepper. It was difficult work, their negotiations, Natasha was not open to most of the things Pepper wanted but every once in awhile Pepper would get her way and she’d patch a wound or pick out some clothing.

“Green?” Natasha says and Pepper can feel her inspecting the dress. She should have anticipated Natasha questioning a choice that went outside her regular choice of black, black, and maybe red with some more black. For a moment she questions her choice but no, she was the authority on these things, Natasha had no fashion sense. If she was allowed to wear her bunny onesie everywhere she would, clearly Pepper knew best.

“To match your eyes,” Pepper explains. If she was just open to trying colors she would have such a pretty wardrobe but no, Natasha was perpetually prepared to attend a funeral.

“Well alright, you know about these things. How the hell do I put this thing on?” she asks and Pepper sighs.

“Usually you put your head through the head hole and your arms go out to the side,” Pepper quips, earning a disapproving tongue click from Natasha.

“Sarcasm, pet, watch it,” she warns but there’s no malice behind the statement. Pepper smiles to herself as Natasha picks up the dress and more so when Natasha’s inevitable noise of frustration comes with a request to rescue her from her wardrobe. Pepper is happy to help of course, detangling her Dom from a dress that really was too simple for Natasha to have gotten caught in but here they were.

They meet Tony at the gala and he’s looking mostly fine, minus the stain on the bottom of his tie. No one would notice, the stain was barely noticeable, but it was going to irritate her for the rest of the night. “Ten bucks says I end up drunk and naked in that fountain,” Tony says, pointing to the tacky fountain in the middle of the room. This was for some charity thing and there was a fountain indoors, clearly the money was being well spent.

“You best not end up drunk and in that fountain, I’ll leave you there to drown,” Pepper tells him.

“Aww come on Pep, it’ll be the only fun I’ll have tonight,” Tony whines, pouting at her.

“I’ll buy your drinks and get you some bubbles for extra fun,” Natasha says excitedly.

“Oh not you too, don’t encourage him, he’ll do something dumb and then I’ll have to deal with the press tomorrow. You do want me home for dinner, don’t you?” she asks sweetly.

Natasha pretends to think about it, “well on one hand I have some plans for chocolate covered strawberries that I would need you for, but on the other I could relax while drinking perfectly chilled vodka in my bunny onesie with Chinese. Don’t look so offended dear, I can drink the vodka in my onesie with the you too. I suppose I’ll keep from aiding Stark in his Idiot Adventures tonight,” she says. Pepper would love to tell her to leave that god-awful onesie at the door but it wasn’t her place to tell Natasha what to wear, not when she wasn’t asked for her opinion.

“If you could resist every other time that would be appreciated,” Pepper says instead. The two got into a considerable amount of trouble with each other, each egging the other on and between Tony’s absurd plans and Natasha’s intelligence some strange things have happened. Like Christmas in July in the middle of Stark Industries foyer, there was even snow and presents to top everything off.

“Oh but that time we rented the ski resort was fun, Tony skied right into a tree,” she says, snickering.

“Uh, excuse you, I was misdirected into that tree, and it came out of nowhere. That was a fluke,” Tony says, sticking to his story after all these years.

“Just admit that you can’t ski, Stark, no shame. Except for the shame you got when you ran directly into a tree,” Natasha reminds him.

“Misdirected, and I can ski, that tree was just… teleporting or something,” Tony says, waving a hand around.

“Trees don’t teleport,” Natasha says.

“Do so, I’ve made one,” Tony tells her, nose in the air.

“Only to prove me wrong if we ever had this argument again,” Natasha says, “that doesn’t count.”

“Well you can’t argue that they don’t teleport or that it’s impossible because it isn’t, I’ve made a teleporting tree so ha.” They continue to bicker and Pepper rolls her eyes fondly as they outline old arguments. Eventually someone interrupts to drag Tony away, which he looks considerably upset with, but he goes off anyways for the sake of business.

She makes sure to follow around, smoothing over Tony’s wrinkles while Natasha ran off to do whatever. Probably hide in the bathroom or something, she disliked these events more than Tony, but she was supportive so she came to them with Pepper every once and awhile. Plus she liked the finger foods. Maybe she was hiding in the kitchen harassing the wait staff again. Things go generally well until Obadiah decides to make his slimy presence known and Pepper resists the urge to look disgusted or flee the scene.

“How’s it going Pep, anything I should know about?” he asks. Anything stupid Tony has said or done, he means, and no. Tony was on his best behavior and he’s only insulted a half a dozen people, most of them to their faces. Repeatedly. Pepper was more irritated with the Obadiah using her nickname though because Tony was counted on to be a socially inept ass, Obadiah had no business acting as if they were anything more than tentative colleagues.

“He’s been doing well and I’ve been dealing with the rest,” she says curtly. She spies Tony from across the room and he looks harassed. Some blonde was shoving pictures in his face with more aggression than passion. Pepper would go off to handle that too but Obadiah reaches out to hold her back.

“You sure, he has a penchant for being a bit… blunt,” Obadiah says, going with a soft euphemism. Brutally honest is what Tony is, he can’t stand people who claimed they were experts when they weren’t and he made it his personal mission to verbally shred them. Justin Hammer was frequently a victim of this though Pepper couldn’t bring herself to feel bad for the sleeze ball. Tony leans towards the blonde woman, seemingly interested in the conversation but he doesn’t look comfortable, his body language is… urgent. The blonde looks surprised.

She doesn’t even realize that she had moved to go help Tony until Obadiah’s grip gets tighter, holding her in place. She would have gladly told him where to put that hand but Natasha appears then, smacking Obadiah’s hand away viciously, “keep your filthy paws off her,” she snarls. Obadiah looks shocked, maybe at the ferocity of Natasha’s words or at least Pepper hoped so. She disliked the man and she swore sometimes he went out of his way to make her uncomfortable as a show of dominance. He did it with Tony too but he refused to be cowed by the man. Pepper had a more difficult time smacking the man down because she wanted to know why she had to do such a thing to begin with- what was his endgame here? Why go out of his way to make her feel uncomfortable, or Tony for that matter. Tony didn’t care, he just wanted things to go his way and for Obadiah to shut up.

Obadiah seems to regain his dignity some and he turns back to Pepper, seemingly intent on ignoring Natasha. Bad move, Pepper thinks. “You will remove your eyes from my sub or I will remove your eyes from their sockets,” Natasha says, a hint of danger and seriousness underscoring her tone. Pepper smiles at Natasha’s protectiveness.

*

Tony examines the pictures Christine gave him, Rhodey standing by for a second opinion. He was almost as much of an expert on Tony’s weapons as Tony was himself and right now he needed Rhodey’s more objective opinion. “The spray pattern in the third picture,” Tony says, gesturing to said picture, “it isn’t the same as the these four. Do you see that?” he asks. He really wished the pictures didn’t include dead bodies that were going to haunt his dreams, assuming he even had any. He had a hard time sleeping normally but after incidences like this he slept even less than normal. Generally he worked until he finally passed out to avoid the dreams but that didn’t always work.

Rhodey pulls a couple pictures off the wall and examines them, “yeah, it is. Almost looks like a different weapon did that damage,” he says and thank god. Tony didn’t want to read too much into the situation and Rhodey was helpful in situations like this.

“Or like someone reverse engineered something I built but didn’t quite get it right,” Tony says. He hoped not but this wasn’t the time for optimism, this was a time to accept the worst kind of situations.

After examining the pictures for a few moments Rhodey sets them aside looking worried, “I’d really like to say that isn’t the case but it’s plausible.”

“They didn’t get it right though, it went off a bit too late, off by a half a second, which is why the shrapnel looks like that. The chemical reactions weren’t as exact as mine but they’re far too close for comfort. Any possibility that something I made just malfunctioned?” he asks, considering the only other option here.

“No,” Rhodey says, shaking his head, “I’ve been working with your weapons for almost two decades and I’ve never had anything malfunction on me, not even for a half a second. Not with all the ways you test your weapons, you account for even the slightest thing being off always. It’s what made your weapons so efficient. Whoever managed to reverse engineer your work obviously didn’t account for something but the results are… well we have pictures of the results. What do we do?” he asks.

And this was why Tony loved Rhodey even if he thought Tony was a nut case who needed meds. He was always on Tony’s side, always there when he needed it and always willing to help in any way he knew how. “The fuck if I know, the best we can do is track the weapons I made and hope to hell that we get a lead on what asshole is attempting to recreate my weapons. Well, I mean I’m sure you have some ideas with all your military knowledge and shit but that’s all I’ve got.”

“I can make a few calls, see what comes up. In the meantime I guess we track what we can find and get it the hell out of these warzones. These people have suffered enough without adding weapons as efficient as yours to the mix,” Rhodey says and Tony feels like someone shoved a fire poker down his throat. If he ever managed to make a time machine he was going back in time to kick his own ass for ever being stupid enough to participate in this bullshit. Weapons, not only was that a stupid business, killing people for money, but it wasn’t even a challenge. Making things blow up is fucking child’s play, at no point in his life should he have ever been interested in something so… so… easy. He’s always liked a challenge, something that forced him to think outside the box, forced him to create something new and unheard of. Weapons never allowed him to do that.

The only reason he’d ever been interested was because he was told he needed to carry on a broken legacy. Well fuck that, he was never intended to carry on Howard’s legacy, to accept blood money. He had always been born to make his own legacy, to make sure no one ever thought ‘Howard’ when they heard the name ‘Stark’ and Tony would be damned if he was going to fail in that. That meant getting these goddamn weapons the hell out of the public and disposing of them properly. “JARVIS, find anything traceable on these weapons and let me know what you find,” he says firmly. Rhodey gives him a wary look but he wisely chooses to say nothing. They both knew that whatever worry he had for Tony he wasn’t going to accept it now, not when other people needed that attention more.