Freedom is Sweet

“Explain to me again what this means,” Tony asks, sounding very small and very lost. He is sitting on James’ bed now, pressed against the headboard to keep the distance between them intact while accommodating as much as he can for his aching back without leaving the room. Because he refuses to leave, no matter how often Rhodey makes Friday ping him.

“Vision suggests it’s similar to what you might call dissociation. Only since it happened while James was untethered from his body by Dr. Strange, it is more difficult to reach him. My understanding is that he is still in the room, floating near you, but he cannot interact with you.”

It’s the fifth time he’s asked her to explain this, but no amount of rephrasing of metaphors make this make sense. Tony knows it’s likely shock, but that doesn’t make sense either. Nothing happened to him, why would he be in shock.

“Boss, Colonel Rhodes is asking you to meet him in the kitchen. He is being rather insistent.”

Tony sighs, letting his head fall back against the headboard. This is the dilemma. He doesn’t want to leave, he can’t leave James alone like this. But there is also noone else he can ask to take over either. While Friday may have called the requirement for the pink checkmarks on his list ‘friendship’, James had not referred to it like that. He hadn’t considered Peter of Vision or Bruce as friends just yet.

Tony sits up. Of course. The list.

“Friday? How far are you on piloting Mark 221?”

“Basic motor functions are operational, however I am not comfortable taking such a delicate project out into combat before my assimilation is complete.”

Tony waves her off. “Of course, yeah. Can you slip into 221 and watch over James? Much as I hate it I am just human, and Rhodey is right. 221 should have enough fine motorics for you to help James if he does need anything. Just don’t touch him, okay baby?”

“Of course, Boss. I will not conduct any course of action without consulting you, Vision, and Dr. Strange. May I say that I am glad you are allowing me to take a watch?”

Tony jumps a little as the door opens, but it’s just an Iron Man mask looking back at him.

“Please give the Colonel my regards,” Friday says via the suit and Tony gives her a tired grin.

“That’s my girl.”

Actually leaving is still easier said than done tough. Tony looks at James sitting at the end of the bed, breathing slowly and evenly. Friday can’t detect any signs of stress from him, hasn’t sensed anything above or below baseline ever since Strange untethered James, which in and of itself is already unusual. Tony is inclined to agree. James looks calm and at rest sitting there, and only looking at him like this did Tony realise that he had never really seen James at rest before.

“Tell me if anything changes, okay?”

“Of course, Boss,” Friday assures him gently, a hand of the suit cold and reassuring on his shoulder.

“Thanks,” Tony whispers and tears his eyes away from James’ still form. As he closes the door to James’ room behind him, he sees Friday assume sentinel position beside the head of the bed.

Tony heads into the kitchen before he can think better of it. There he finds Rhodey staring down into a mug of tea, looking tired as always, next to a worried Peter Parker. 

“Mr. Stark! How is he?”

The smile is almost not forced as Tony beelines for the coffee machine and presses the magic sequence of buttons that will… he doesn’t even know. Hopefully make some of this easier.

“Physically okay, nothing new there.” He wishes he could says something more, reassure the kid, but Tony has made himself swear early on that he isn’t going to lie to either of the boys. He remembers just fine how that shit stung with Howard, and while he could never be a father, he is doing his damndest to do better where he can.

“But Dr. Strange said that he would be alright.”

Tony sighs and watches his ambrosia drip into one of his many favourite mugs. The sight is less comforting and exciting than it normally is.

“He said time might help. He’ll be back tomorrow to check back in.”

When Tony turns to join them at the kitchen island Peter’s head is hanging and he is staring down at his folded hands.

“I just want him to be okay. I promised him I’d hang out with him. As Spider man and as me. We still have to watch ‘Return of the Jedi’.”

“That the third of sixth movie?”

“Third!” 

Tony grins at the offended tone and ruffles through Peter’s hair. “Good kid.” He drops onto the bar chair next to Peter with a sigh. “There’s nothing we can do right now, kid. He’ll be alright, and while we wait he wouldn’t want you to break your clever head over something you can’t fix.”

Peter nods, and with another heavy sigh kind of slumps away from the island and out of his chair into a stand. Tony is never going to understand how that kid moves.

“Miss Friday, can you send me a text when something happens?”

“I will add you to the list, Spiderman,” Friday says kindly and Peter nods before heading towards the hallways.

“Goodnight Mr. Stark, Mr. Vision. You should also get some sleep soon.”

Tony smiles and nods. “‘Course, kid. Just after this double espresso.”

Peter rolls his eyes and heads towards the his own room somewhere at the centre of the New Avengers wing, leaving Tony alone with Rhodey who takes a deep drink of his tea.

“Nothing then?”

Tony sighs, the smile and all bravado that came with it flaking away from him like old paint. “Nothing.” They both stare out into the dark kitchen, the table where they usually have dinner together lying blanketed in shadow. “I’m scared,” Tony admits softly. Rhodey’s clever eyes are on him immediately, and maybe he really does need to sleep because he doesn’t care what Rhodey can see on him in that moment.

“Tony?”

“Mhm?”

“Tony, look at me.”

Tony does, Rhodey’s eyes boring into him. “He’s going to be fine,” he say with the same conviction with which he called Howard a cruel asshole in their second year of college.

“You don’t know that,” Tony whispers, and fuck, where did those tears come from.

“I do. James is the toughest guy I’ve ever seen. You said it yourself, he went through hell thrice over and came out the other end somehow still a good guy. He’s going to get through this as well.”

“I guess, yeah. I just– I don’t know what to do.”

Rhodey huffs a soft laugh into his teacup before drinking it right up again. “Yeah, I guess you can’t invent your way out of this one.” Tony elbows him with a weak smile. “I mean it. I don’t think there’s anything you can do. And I know that sucks, but right now you can just be there for him. Make sure that at least when he does make it back he won’t be alone.”

Tony nods, holding on to his coffee. “I hate this,” he whispers.

Rhodey hums in agreement and turns towards the kitchen to set up new tea water, taking his time picking out a new tea bag.

“So, what is this between you two?”

“What?” Tony looks up alike a deer caught in the headlights.

“You and Barnes. I’m not blind, Tony, I see the way he looks at you.”

“He’s not looking at me, no, there’s nothing there.”

Rhodey scoffs and pours the water over his teabag. “Sure, and you didn’t invite him faster into your workshop than even Pepper in her time.”

“He broke in!” Tony tries to defend himself, but Rhodey just shakes his head.

“Don’t get cute with me, Tony, you know what I mean.”

Tony swallows down whatever quip had been on his tongue just now and looks down at his cup guiltily. “I do,” he admits.

“So? Spill, come on.” 

“I don’t know,” Tony answers honestly, making sure the handle of his cup is at a perfect 45 degree angle with the table to stall. “I… I like him. A lot. And he’s just so…”

“Hot?”

“Kind! I was going to say kind!”

Rhodey grins. “Sure.”

“You’re impossible. See, this is why I don’t talk to you.”

“Shut up, you love me.”

Tony laughs into his cup, kicking carefully at Rhodey’s braces under the table. “True.”

“So, kind, huh? That do it for you nowadays?”

Tony rolls his eyes but actually goes to consider the question. “I guess so. He’s just kind and curious and just… I like how it feels when he looks at me,” he confesses, and something in Rhodey’s eyes softens. Which is how Tony knows that he’s really fucked.

“Oh Tony,” he sighs, the kind of sigh that never bodes well for Tony.

“Yeah,” Tony huffs in defeat.

“Does he know at least?”

Tony cringes further into his seat. “Yeah, he does. I haven’t… I haven’t exactly been subtle. Though in my defence, neither has he.”

Rhodey pulls a face. “Yeah you can leave it there, I don’t even wanna know.”

“Aw, you don’t want to know all the deeply hot and attractive shit James has been saying to me?” Tony teases.

“Urgh, gross now. I will walk away right now if you do that.”

“Not so invested in my love life now, huh?”

Rhodey grins then and lifts his cup. “I guess that one’s on me, fair.”

“That’s right.” 

They sit in companionable silence, drinking while their smiles fade slowly from their faces again.

“For what it’s worth, I’m happy for you, Tones.”

Tony nods, pushing his empty cup away from him, feeling as the caffeine finds its way into his bloodstream.

“It’s worth a lot, actually,” he murmurs.

“Barnes is a good guy, and I hope once all of this bullshit is over you two can figure something out.”

“Once all the bullshit is over,” Tony agrees, sliding out of his chair.

“You headed back?”

“I can be useless here or there.” Tony shrugs. “I just don’t want him to be alone.”

Rhodey nods, knocking back the last of his tea. “Careful there, old man, you’re getting soft.”

Tony rolls his eyes and moves to head back.

“And try to get some sleep, Tones.”

“No promises.”

Friday is still there, when Tony quietly lets himself into James’ room again, only the glow in the Iron Man mask signalling that she is still there.

“Welcome back, Boss. Colonel appeased?”

Tony huffs a quiet laugh and sinks onto the bed again carefully, leaning against the headboard. “Appeased, yeah. Thanks for taking over.”

“Is that my cue to remove my physical premises?”

Tony yawns, something about the softness of the bed and the way the entire room just smells like James getting to him. “Do you think it would be fine if I stayed here?”

Friday does her soft little contemplative hum she picked up from Pepper, and suddenly Tony misses her, misses her hugs. Although he’d much rather hug James, but he keeps that urge on a very tight leash. Maybe later, maybe when James is better. But even that is a big maybe.

“Given how often he has fallen asleep on the workshop couch, I am confident in my assessment that James is comfortable around you. Despite the situation, I think this still holds true now.”

Tony nods against the headboard, his eyelids suddenly heavy as lead. “I’ll consider it,” he murmurs. The last thing he remembers is Friday in Mark 221 taking up sentinel again by the door.

***

When Tony finally jerks back into wakefulness from a nightmare there is light filtering through the blinds, and his sleep addled brain belatedly supplies that it must be morning. Though that can’t be right. Tony hasn’t slept through a night since sometime in college (third year march of college).

Since his sense of time seems to not be quite awake yet, Tone blinks his eyes wider open and turns to assessing his surrounding instead.

He’s in James’ room. The uniformity of the compound quarters when unadorned with Avengers merch, books or Lego schemata would make this assessment quite impressive if not for James himself sitting cross legged at the foot of the bed. At the sight of him, Tony’s brain finally wakes up the rest of the way and his eyes fly open.

He’s in James’ room. He fell asleep on James’ bed and now it’s morning and he’s still in James’ room.

“Friday?”

“Yes, Boss?”

At least something still works the way it’s supposed to.

“What’s on fire?”

“Today, nothing in your jurisdiction, Boss. Ms. Potts has inquired after you last night and after learning of the situation has excused you from the merger meeting and the PR battle planning today. Colonel Rhodes has agreed to step in for you at the Accords Committee meeting, and I have taken the liberty to clear the rest of you schedule for today and the upcoming future for everything that is not vital to what you have enshrined as primary priorities.”

Tony pushes himself into a sitting position and rubs his hand over his eyes, brushing the sleep from them. “That’s… huh. Thanks?”

“Your welcome,” Friday answers smugly.

“Any update on… you know. This?”

“James?”

“Yes, of course James.”

“Dr. Strange has not yet reached out for an update, and my sensors have detected no change over the night. It appears his status remains unchanged.”

***

Unchanged. 

Unchanged.

Unchanged.

The word filters down into James’ awareness like sunlight into deep water, brushing on his awareness there like kelp.

Unchanged.

Unchanged.

Something has changed.

From what.

To what.

What has changed.

Nothing has changed.

Nothing ever changes.

Always chained.

Always chains.

James stays where he is, somewhere in the chains.

It’s chains or pain.

Change means pain.

But something has changed,

and so far, no pain.

Unchanged.

The word filters down into James’ awareness like sunlight into deep water, brushing on his awareness there like kelp.

Sunlight filters in from outside the water deep down to where James is, hanging floating lying in chains and kelp and darkness.

Something has changed.

He could move.

Could find out what.

But James is tired, and the darkness is where he wants to be. Darkness means he can’t feel the pain. Down here it’s just him, and nobody else, nobody that can hurt him. He wants to stay here forever and ever and ever until he…

until…

What?

Until he dies?

He doesn’t want to die.

There is a bone deep tiredness that comes with that thought. 

He doesn’t want to die. And god, what that has cost him so far.

But he doesn’t want to die. As immutable as pain and chains and his tired bones, that is there. 

He’s alive then. He doesn’t want to die means he’s alive then. And alive means change.

Even in the ice and the darkness and wherever else they stuff him while they use his body for whatever, his heart is beating, and that means change. No matter how long it takes. No matter how much it takes.

Again that tiredness. He doesn’t want it to take any more of him.

There is already so little of him left. He feels thin, stretched out like skin taught over a drum, thin and brittle and ready to tear.

But it’s like sunlight.

Whatever it is, it’s like sunlight. Reaching out to fall on him even down here, hot and gold.

So maybe?

God, hope is so heavy.

He’s not sure he can lift it back out with him. Not sure he wants to.

But he has the strength to.

And for once, James knows down to his very core, that that is just him. That’s not army training or Hydra training, not muscles or servos or serum. That’s just him.

Strong enough to protect that pure idealism in Steve’s heart from the world. Strong enough to protect queer love on the cold grounds of America. Strong enough to know who he is all the way until it doesn’t exist anymore.

Strong enough to carry hope.

James looks up.

***

There is a hitch in his breath. That’s the first sign, the first break in the empty monotony that has taken hold of James’ body.

Tony almost misses it. He is engrossed in working on the arm he is designing for James, reading his way through every account of people living with prosthetics to make this one as good as humanly and technological possible. But then James’ breath hitches and all thoughts of heating and nerve integration are immediately disregarded.

“James?”

“Minimal fluctuations in physical readings,” Friday reports from her position by the door, and Tony gets enough of a grip on himself not to scramble forwards and take James’ hand. God, he almost forgot.

“Friday, what’s happening?” Because he sure as hell doesn’t know anymore.

“Subtle physiological changes. I am unsure what this is a response to, but given the only variable that has changed in the last hour is that we have been conversing, I recommend continuing auditory stimulus.”

Talking, huh? Well, that’s just fine. Tony can talk all day if needed, which it rarely is.

“Sure, yeah. Uhm, we can design this arm out loud, baby, would that work?”

“I’m sorry, I cannot answer that question, Boss.”

“Right, yeah, sorry. But that’s the variable we’ll test with first. Inform Vision and Dr. Strange. They’re not needed, just let them know we might be making progress.”

“Done. You had begun making notes on a possible heating system. Could you reiterate your thoughts out loud so I may note them down?”

Of course Tony does. The notes on the heating system and on the balance point, on the nerve integration and his ideas on materials. He tells Friday everything about the arm that he’s only thought and not told her yet, and then everything he’s already told her. And fuck it, while he’s at it he keeps working with her on the bit of code that Natascha attacked two weeks ago, discussing with her how she might recover from such attacks in the future.

***

Recovery.

There’s an idea. 

James is vaguely aware that it applies to him. He has scars. He is missing an arm. He’s lost himself more times than he or anyone else ever cared to count.

Recovery.

Something for him to consider. 

If that is something he can do (yes)

If that is something he wants (why, only to be broken up and open and apart and down again)

For the first time, James wonders where these rays of sunlight bright ideas are coming from.

They are not his, he knows that much. For all that has broken him, James has always had a good sense of what is his and what isn’t.

Sure, it’s not always easy to tell, but there is always a tell. The strength is his. The knowledge that he can always heal, always grow back up is his. 

Recovery.

That isn’t.

Whose is it?

recovery isn’t something we we built into you, never thought we’d need it. but it might be nice as a last ditch defence mechanism. I know baby girl, I never thought of defence when I built you either. funny to be honest, given what happened before, with Jarvis. I’m sorry, didn’t mean to get maudlin. but yeah, it’s inelegant, but maybe recovery

It’s Tony’s.

The name strikes like lightning through James.

***

“Tony?”

Tony startles awake immediately, flailing out of his nap with all the grace of a newborn giraffe. 

“Yes, I’m here. I’m here, James, what do you need?”

James is still unmoving, emotions shifting over his face in slow motion. His eyes are pinched closed, and little has changed, but the little that has is enough to give Tony hope. James holds himself tense than before, his hand no longer slumped dead in his lap but carefully lax in a way that screams of tight control.

“I’m… Tony.” James says his name like a plea and Tony is digging his hands into the bedsheets to keep the impulse to just reach out and comfort from getting away from him. 

“No, darling, you’re James. Although I get the confusion, two smoking hot guys like us sitting in a bed together, makes the mind do tricks.” Tony is rambling, he knows he is, but he’s barely aware of what his mouth is doing, all of his attention on James. 

James whose face screws up with something and Tony immediately backpedals. 

“Shit no, forget I said that. Fuck, uhm, ignore I said that. I’m staying right here, James, I’m not touching you and not coming closer until you want me to, till you say its okay.”

There is no nod, no sign that James has heard him, and Tony wonders if he’s gone again, if this is something worth calling Strange over again.

“Okay,” James whispers, sounding just as relieved as he sounds tired. His eyes are still closed, but from the way he holds himself alone Tony can tell that he is slowly coming back.

“Friday?”

“Readings fluctuating off baseline. Nowhere near normal yet,” she informs him and Tony nods, the tablet displaying his emails forgotten on the bed.

“If this is dissociation, do you think we should help?”

Friday hums in thought, and Tony waits for her as she likely reviews ever byte of data she has collected on James so far.

“I am hesitant to advise rushing the emergence out a self defence mechanism such as this. James,” she says from the suits’ mask, and with her voice no longer coming from everywhere but a human shaped thing she seems more like a person than ever. “Would you like help in returning to the present?”

Another long, agonising pause where Tony has to force himself to sit still, to stay neutral. Then there is just the tiniest movement, a single twitch of James’ hand.

“That’s a yes,” Friday informs him.

“How do you know?” He’s being paranoid, he normally takes Friday by her word. But something about James makes Tony have to be sure. There can be no mistakes here.

“It is a non-verbal sign we agreed on. One of any deliberate movement means yes. Twice means no. It is simple but effective in certain scenarios.” Scenarios like this one where something has overwhelmed James to the point where he’s pulled away from everything. “This combined with physiological readings indicate that he is asking for

***

Help.

Tony is there, so very far away, at the other end of whatever this is. And James is so tired. He doesn’t want to do this alone.

And it turns out he doesn’t have to. There are people he trusts, people who care, who are willing to

Help.

Help is sensational, turns out. Comes as sensations. There is a warm smooth sensation in his hand, and it helps.

James curls his fingers around the new thing, he has fingers, he has a hand, a body in general. The knowledge that comes with this body filters down to him like snow. Only one arm. A ravine. Something cold. Pain, probably, eventually. Strength, entirely inhuman strength. He has to be careful with his body, his hand, his fingers.

The control comes easily, naturally. First of his hand, then of his face. The rest follows.

Turns out help is sensation, and turns out the other end is feelings. There is a moment of hesitation, a moment where James considers simply letting go. Turning back. There is something comforting about this non-existence, about the dark and the heavy heavy emptiness. 

let me know if there is anything else you need, James. I know that’s hard right now, but hey, between me and Friday, maybe we can read minds. no wait, stupid joke, sorry. either way, I’m gonna stay here and talk until you tell me to shut up. or Friday does, I guess. sorry to be the one to tell you, but you’ve been conspired against. between Friday, Pepper and Papa Bear my schedule is somehow clear, no idea how they did that, biggest feat of witchcraft I’ve ever seen, fucking Wanda can stuff it for all I care. so I’ve got nothing else to do but sit here and talk to you. I just hope it

helps. 

Tony is there, trying to help. 

As alwaysalwaysalwaysTony is here trying to help.

And James loves him, fuck, James loves Tony. His heart clenches around the idea, a pain more delicious and wonderful than any he has ever felt.

So James takes a deep breath, and continues the work. Focuses on the sensation in his hand.

Plastic.smooth.warm.ridged.light.about500grams.abottle.water.warm.water.Tony!notcold.noice.warm.forhim.

Focuses on his body. Alerts come in as he becomes aware of himself slowly. He needs to move. He doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting like this. He needs to drink something. Probably eat and sleep and go to the bathroom as well.

He needs to open his eyes.

He needs to open his eyes.

Open his eyes.

He opens his eyes.

And there, sitting on the other side of the bed, is 

***

“Tony.” It’s a breath of relief, his name said quietly like a prayer, and Tony can’t help the smile that threatens to split his face in half.

“Hi there, gorgeous,” Tony whispers back, earning himself a small quirk of James’ lips that easily outdoes a sunrise for all it’s radiance. “How are you feeling?”

James doesn’t answer for a while, looking around the room, slowly moving his head as if he was getting used to the idea of movement still. He looks down at his hand where Friday had placed a small water bottle filled with warm tap water.

“Strange,” James says eventually. “How long,” he asks.

“Three days and change.” It’s one of the questions Tony is actually prepared for. “Doctor Strange came by Wednesday afternoon, and it’s now Sunday. I think at least.”

“It is half an hour into Sunday,” Friday confirms, and Tony watches the recognition play out over James’ face.

“Hey uhm, I know I’ve been hovering here for a while. The entire time, actually. I get it if you want some time to yourself, just tell me and I’ll skidaddle. Whatever you need right now, okay?”

James nods, his brows knitting together as he slowly fidgets with the water bottle in his hand. “I’m not quite sure, though. What I need.”

Tony swallows a lot of things he knows he shouldn’t be thinking right now, and instead focuses on the problem analysis.

“That’s okay. We’ll figure it out, the three of us. Just let me know if you’re uncomfortable, okay?”

Because more than anything in the world right now, Tony wants to avoid being like whatever drove James away this hard. He has his suspicions, he’s not stupid and at this point in his life he knows what boundaries and their crossing looks like, but still. Assumptions and asses. He keeps his thoughts to himself, and just contends himself with choosing his words carefully and staying right the fuck where he is.

“Friday, maintenance report?” James asks, his voice rasping over a dry throat.

Tony watches half confused and half curious as the light in 221 dies and Friday’s voice comes from one corner in the ceiling.

“Water critical, immediate action required. External maintenance critical, action highly recommended. Food critical, action highly recommended.” She rattles off. James nods and mechanically moves to twist open the bottle in his grasp, drinking the lukewarm water down in one go.

“Water critical, delay and then further action recommended,” Friday updates her assessment. Catching on to the cryptic report Tony pushes himself off the bed.

“I can go get us some breakfast if you’re okay?”

James’ gaze snaps to him, the fastest thing about him, and something about those cold blue eyes makes Tony’s knees weak.

“You’re leaving?”

Tony sinks back down onto the bed before he can think better of it.

“Not if you don’t want me to.”

James blinks, processing his words with a concerning slowness, but then a familiar procession of emotions moves over his face. Hesitation and guilt and anger and then flat neutrality. He shakes his head.

“No, never mind. I’m okay.”

“James, I can stay, darling. Friday can switch to a suit she’s got better control of the fine motorics with, she can get food as well. I’m not leaving if you want me here.”

Again James his head, distress settling into his eyes and Tony’s heart aches with it.

“You’ve been here so long though. I don’t want to keep you.” He screws his eyes shut. “No. I just don’t want to be alone yet.”

Strange, the similarities between the superspies in his life. Natasha has always seemed hand crafted to rile Tony up into blind anger. And James seems tailor made to dial into Tony’s protective instincts. He swallows it down.

“Then you won’t be. Friday, can you arrange some food for our Winter Wonder here?”

“Of course, Boss, anything you have in mind.”

Tony smiles and settles back in against the headboard of James’ bed. “See? No problem. I’m all yours, snowflake, until you get sick of me.” James seems to be struggling to place that idea into his current framework, so Tony leave him to it, giving him time. In the meantime he turns to the corner of the ceiling Friday has settled in. “Whatever you think is best, baby girl. You know this better than I do.”

Friday chuckles and in that moment Tony thinks he couldn’t love her more if he tried. “Plenty of evidence of that, Boss.”

“It’s okay, James, promise. Truth be told, I’d rather keep an eye on you as well. I’ll leave you be if you want me to, but–”

“I don’t want you to leave,” James whispers to his hand still holding the empty water bottle, and oh if that doesn’t make Tony’s heart sing.

“Seems we’re in alignment then, snowflake, nothing for you to worry about. Now, how about you go and take a nice long shower and I contact the laundry list of people who will be thrilled to know you’re doing better?”

“Already done, Boss. Doctor Strange is requesting a date to do a second evaluation to ensure the enchantment is truly gone, and Mr. Parker has asked me to relay his assurance that he is happy to move movie night to whenever James feels better.”

That gets James to smile a little and Tony wishes he could bottle that sight. His heart is too old for shit like this, but on the other hand he wouldn’t want to miss this for the world.

“Damnit, baby girl, doing all my work for me. What am I supposed to be doing with my life if I have you doing my job?” he asks fondly.

“May I suggest; rest.”

Tony lets out a mock scoff. “Unheard of. But maybe I can be persuaded with some pancakes, if you’re already making midnight breakfast.”

“Pancakes do not offer optimal nutritional value,” Friday argues.

“Ah, but they do wonders for troupe morale.”

“Of course, Boss.”

***

James listens to them banter, something about the voices soothing an ache in his chest. He knows he needs to move, Friday’s reports on his state are usually more accurate than his own, but he doesn’t want to break this moment just yet.

Tony’s warm eyes land on him, his entire face transformed by a smile, and James never wants to feel anything but this warmth.

But beneath the smile, Tony looks tired, shadows of worry under his eyes and everything from his hair to his clothes telling the story of a three day vigil. He knows he himself probably doesn’t look much better. Somehow it keeps happening like this, Tony tired and overworked, smiling at James as he claws his way out of death’s door into his hands.

“I’m gonna shower,” James murmurs and forces his body into movement. 

“Take your time, love,” Tony calls after him, and the moment unshatters itself. His legs are tingling with pins and needles, somehow James misses his left arm again, and when he looks at himself in the mirror he looks like hell. But somehow none of it is uncomfortable. 

As he steps into the shower, turning the water scalding hot, James realises that for the first time he is truly and fully settled in his body. He feels the heat of the water, the droplets pelting his skin. There is the rush of the water, the little tinkling sounds as drops bounce off the metal of his shoulder. He’s here, the water washing away the last three days and change, and for a wonderful moment he is nowhere else. And even when the thoughts come, thoughts of Tony, realising that he needs to drink more, questions about what happened, they come with the comforting certainty that this awareness of the moment is always within reach. He’s no longer locked out of himself the way he was before.

After showering, shaving, and brushing his teeth, James pulls on some fresh clothes, burying himself in a set of jogging pants and a large blue sweater and heads back out into the bedroom to find Tony trying to arrange a large tray carrying enough food to feed five people on the bed.

“Oh hey, you’re already done! Friday made breakfast.”

“It’s one in the morning,” James notices, checking in with his internal clock. Tony waves him off, the movement failing to hide the wide smile on his face.

“Time is more like guidelines anyway, who cares. You need food, I just realised I’m hungry, so we’re having breakfast. I wasn’t sure if you’re okay with food on your bed, I know Rhodey always wants to kill me if I eat in his bed. I don’t mind it myself, but then again I don’t sleep in my bed that often. Wait, that came out wrong. I just didn’t want to put it on the desk because all your notes are there, and I didn’t want to move anything without your permission. Lord knows I get annoyed whenever Dum-E or U move my notes around so–”

“Bed is fine,” James assures him quietly, sinking onto the opposite corner from Tony, careful as not to mess with the tray. Tony lets out a slow breath, looking relieved.

“You look tired.”

Tony smiles, reaching for the canister of coffee and one of the two colourful mugs on the tray.

“Eh, I’m fine. Got a lot of SI work done, so at least Pepper will be happy.”

“I’m sorry I worried you.”

But again Tony shrugs him off. “Not your fault and not your intent. I was worried, sure, but I’m always worried about something.” He takes a sip of the coffee and moans at the taste, closing his eyes to savour it before glancing up at James. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

James smiles and surveys the bounty of food before him before picking some berries to start with. He’s not hungry, but after some extensive questioning he and Friday have come to the conclusion that he might just no longer feel hunger in general. And with no sensation to go on he isn’t sure how open his body is to food right now, so he decides to start off easy.

“Yeah, that was… the spell is gone?”

Tony nods, and even before he says anything James closes his eyes against the wave of relief that washes over him. “Yeah, Strange said it was pretty easy to undo in the end. He said he sorry for how shitty the experience was, but it’s gone now. He wants to come back in to check, just to be sure, but he doesn’t half ass work.”

“Okay, yeah.” James clears his throat, breathing in the smell of Tony’s coffee, of the pancakes Friday has made, of his room and Tony. His lungs push out against his ribcage, his chest expanding and collapsing slowly as he breathes. He can feel his weight press into his mattress, his folded legs pressing into each other. He can feel his body, his body. His body that nobody else can control again.

“I want to try something.”

Tony puts down his plate of pancakes on the bedside table. “Uh, sure, yeah, what? Not in that order.”

James huffs a laughter and gets up, walking around the bed until he’s standing before Tony. And that’s a sight, isn’t it. Tony sitting before him, looking up at him with wide trusting eyes. James swallows and holds out his hand. Tony looks between his hand and his face.

“Are you sure?”

“I want to try.”

Tony nods, but doesn’t move his hands. “Yeah sure, just saying, you don’t have to try it yet. I get that what happened was upsetting, hell, I don’t even know what you–”

“Give me your hand, Tony.”

Tony’s mouth clicks shut, and he reaches up, offering up his hand. Leaves it up to James to take it. And James finally gets to give in to the impulse he has been keeping under control for so long now. 

He takes Tony’s hand in his. The skin contact alone sends a firework through his nerves, and James’ brain supplies him with half remembered information about a human’s need for contact. He lets his thumb brush over the back of Tony’s hand, his entire attention on the calluses he can feel in Tony’s palm, the contrast of the smooth soft skin on the back of his hand.

When the queasiness comes, James expects it. And this time, he also knows why. He remembers having to take Steve’s hand like. Remembers the witch’s hand in his, her saccharine sweet smile. 

Sergeant Barnes. I can make you better, Sergeant, I can make you whole again.

James presses his eyes closed against the memories, trying to recall his focus into the moment, to the man in front of him.

“James?”

He shakes his head, forces his eyes open. Tony sounds so worried.

“I’m okay.” He gives Tony’s hand a soft squeeze and then lets go, taking a step back and waiting as the memories subside, fading back as they always do. The unease in his stomach doesn’t leave quite as fast, but still James has to smile. “It really is gone. I can remember.”

Tony nods, that concerned little furrow between his brows again. “Okay, that’s good, right?”

James laughs. “Of course. It’s not… fuck, it sucks. But better like this. I’ve done worse shit. Worse shit has been done to me. I can deal with this too.”

“James–”

“Can we… is it okay if we talk about this later?” Because of course Tony is right. There is horror and discomfort lurking behind all this, there are conversations to be had and stuff to work through. But right now it all seems so simple. The spell is gone. James is free. And Friday has asked him to eat.

Tony nods, picks up his plate of pancakes again and stuffs a piece of the fluffy dough in his mouth.

“Course. Just so long as you know that you’re not getting out of this, young man. Now sit down and dig in, I know Friday, you and Vision have been conspiring to understand the culinary arts. Let’s make sure we can give her some notes.”

And it’s easy as that. James asks for something, and Tony agrees. Stays with him and has breakfast with him at one in the morning. The spell is gone, his body is his again, and despite the memories, despite everything that’s happened to him, here, on his bed with Tony and breakfast that Friday made for them, it’s easy as that.