It's complicated
It’s breakfast, and then braving the world outside of his room to meet with Peter in the kitchen, and then the three of them seeking the refuge and comfort of Tony’s workshop, and suddenly the day has passed and they still haven’t talked about it. Fuck, James hasn’t even really thought about it. Which just goes to show the lengths of distraction he can be driven to by two clever clever engineers, three robots and an AI.
It’s a good day, the kind of day James never ever wants to end. But somehow he’s sitting on a deck in the gardens of the compound, the sun setting in violent radiant glory behind the trees. Tony is sitting beside him, typing out something on his phone at a speed James can only marvel at.
“So, how’re you doing, snowstorm?” Tony asks once he is done, leaning back into the sunset against the backrest of the bench they are on. The light of the setting sun catches in his eyes and his hair and James’ mouth runs dry.
“Good.” His voice comes out rough and he clears his throat before trying again. “I’m good. Stiffness is gone, and Friday said the vitals are back up to normal.”
“With how you’ve been eating today, no wonder.” Tony grins and James shrugs.
“The lady said I had to catch up.”
“And I’m glad you did, don’t get me wrong.” Then the grin fades and James realises that he has outrun the conversation as far as he can. It’s caught up with him now, and while he feels nowhere near ready, he trusts that it will be okay anyway. Things usually are when Tony is around.
“It’s better now,” James starts, because above everything else, that is the important thing.
“What is?”
“Everything, pretty much,” James says with a shrug, taking a deep breath of the cold evening air. Tony is wrapped up in a thick winter jacket and a scarf, but James is still enjoying the cold, the sensation of it. When he reaches out and offers his hand for Tony to take it is warm in contrast to Tony’s cold fingers in his. It’s a new feeling almost, reminding James of sometime a hundred years ago when Steve’s hands were this cold and slender.
Of course they wouldn’t be cold nowadays, and with the thought comes a flash of memories, Steve’s hands hot and heavy on his, on him, but James lets the memory pass. Takes a deep breath of the cold air and focuses on the scents of the garden around him, on the sight of Tony lit by the evening sun. In the light of what is before him it’s almost easy to push the memories aside.
“This is okay?” Tony asks, the hesitation clear in his voice. He doesn’t want to hurt James, seems almost terrified of doing so, and all of this is made so much easier by knowing that the only one pushing his limits is him.
“Yeah. It brings up memories like everything else now. Some good, some bad. It’s…” James sighs, unsure how to explain this shift. How to explain that it’s still bad sometimes, but he understands why now. His body isn’t panicking with him as a passenger, he understands what’s happening to him.
“Steve, he… the witch didn’t make me who I used to be, she made me who Steve wanted me to be. And while I’ve always loved that little punk, it was never like that. He was my brother, someone I’ve always been in awe of. But never like this,” he explains, squeezing Tony’s hand. “Even when I realised that I was– what did Friday call it? Pansexual?”
Tony nods, a fleeting proud smile tugging at his lips before it’s all eclipsed by concern again. James wishes that wasn’t there, he wants to have this conversation outside of his own shadow, see what Tony can smile like when there is nothing else hanging over them. But he also knows that right now the only way out is through.
“No, Steve was a friend. I guess it wasn’t like that for him. Or maybe that’s changed while I was gone, I don’t know. Doesn’t matter much either. He’s interested in me now, and well… the witch made me what he wanted me to be.”
Tony shudders and looks down at the wooden planks of the deck, holding on to James’ hand with a cold iron grip. He seems so small then, an understanding in his face that James wouldn’t wish on anyone but is so so so grateful for right now.
“Fuck,” Tony whispers, running his free hand through his hair and leaving it a beautiful glorious mess. “I was so hoping I was wrong. I’m so sorry.”
James shrugs, but this isn’t something he can shrug off. So instead he takes a deep fortifying breath of cold night air and looks out into the garden. This is easier when he isn’t looking at Tony, doesn’t get to see his expressions and reactions. It’s already going to be hard enough without the confirmation that Tony understands this experience much more closely than James wants him to.
“It’s– You know, at least when Hydra did it, it was painful. They put their thoughts into my head and convinced me it was what I wanted. And when that wore off, at least it hurt. And I could try. I don’t know if I ever told anyone that,” James realises. “With the trigger words and the chair and all the fucking bullshit they used, it was always messy human science, I guess. I could resist. It fucking hurt. I didn’t do it often, didn’t try it often. Fuck, I was tired and in pain all the time, and I was already so deep down, what did a few more bodies matter, you know.”
James sighs and closes his eyes. This is some of the worst of him, but Tony’s hand is still in his. Tony is still here. So he continues.
“It’s a shitty kind of maths to do, balances of pain and death. It fucking sucks, and I know how often I made the wrong choice.”
“That’s not a choice, James.”
James smiles sadly, brushing his thumb over the back of Tony’s hand. “Yeah, I know. Still. Doesn’t mean I can stop thinking about it. I know this wasn’t me. Barton talked to me about when Loki was controlling him, making him work against you all. He doesn’t remember what he did, but he knows, and it comes with the same line of thought.”
James sighs, looking down at his hand intertwined with Tony. They’re sitting apart, but this touch alone is enough to bring back so many thoughts, sensations, memories. Sitting together with his first crush, desperately trying not to get caught. Sitting with Steve while he was riding out a flu. Sitting with Steve, now incapable of flus, much too close, holding hands with an uncomfortable smile on his face.
“I don’t know what this feels so much more invasive,” James murmurs. “It’s not like this is new. The Winter Soldier is whatever he needs to be, and it’s not always a weapon. Maybe it’s because I just… I remember it, I can remember the feeling of it, and I want to get out, but it’s too late. It’s all already part of me. Just more scars that are never going away.”
Tony squeezes his hand, a small show of comfort, but he doesn’t answer immediately, looking out at the darkening park around them. It gives James a moment to feel relief. He’s said it. He’s admitted the worst things he’s ever done, and Tony is still here. Holding his hand, and considering his words.
“It’s never going to go away.”
James glances over at Tony, who’s looking down at their intertwined hands, his face strangely blank. Tony is usually a collage of emotions and micro expressions, and it is weird to see his face this quiet.
“It never did for me at least. Sometimes a phrase or a specific touch will set me back, and then I need a moment to get through that. I… Pepper doesn’t even know. She probably suspects, she’s a terrifyingly smart woman, but I never told her.”
Now it’s James squeezing Tony's hand for a moment of reassurance, and Tony flashes him a quick smile.
“You can get pretty far by just asking for time and a bit of space when you need it.”
“I don’t want to go far though,” James admits softly. “I'm actually quite happy right here.”
Tony looks at him, and James can see an insecurity brewing there that he never sees with anyone else. He is one of the only ones who get to see this side of Tony, get to hear his voice sound small and breakable as he says “Are you sure?”
James pulls Tony’s hand to him and places a gentle kiss on the back of it, something he’s only ever done twice, to an asian princess and a british business tycoon. He remembers what their skins felt like, remembers how they died - bullet and metal hand - but it all gets lost in the wide open hope in Tony’s eyes.
“I’m pretty sure. I never thought I’d be able to feel this way again after everything, doll, but if you want it, my place is right here. For as long as you’ll have me.”
“You know you don’t have to. You know that, right James?”
James smiles through the sting of the words and wonders who the fuck did this to the kind, brilliant man before him. Wonders if they’re still alive for him to haunt.
“I know,” he assures Tony, and watches him nod valiantly, trying to keep the rejection from showing on his face. It doesn’t, Tony is good with masks when he wants to be. But it shows everywhere else, in his hand and then set of his shoulders and the way he looks back out at the garden.
“I know I can leave. Friday explained the pardons to me, I’m just like any other civilian now. And without the spell and my shoulder fixed, I can go and live any life I want.”
“Yeah, exactly,” Tony whispers. “Anything you want.”
“So I’m doing exactly that.”
“Oh.” Tony sounds like he’s been punched, nodding to himself while staring down at the ground. “Already? Uhm, yeah, sure.”
It hurts, watching Tony cut himself down to bits like this, but James makes sure to watch, makes sure to remember that for all of Tony’s power and beauty and wealth in money and all the things that matter, he’s hurting like everyone else James has ever been able to truly see like this.
But then it’s enough and James untangles their hands. He shifts and turns to face Tony who is still staring down at the deck.
“Tony,” James says gently, and finally Tony looks at him. James reaches up slowly to brush his hand over Tony’s cheek, giving him plenty of time to see what James is doing, to pull back, to given any sign that he doesn't want this. But Tony only glances at James’ hand for a moment before staring at him incredulously.
Tony’s skin is so soft under his touch, the sensation sending a shock through James’ system.
“May I?” James asks, looking down at Tony’s lips to make his intentions as clear as possible.
Tony’s “please” is only a small whisper, but it’s all that matters at the moment. And so with a smile, James finally lets himself do what he’s been wanting to do for so long now. He kisses Tony.