The Asset stood, silent and observing. But that wasn't right, was it? He- yes, he was a he, a human- wasn't quite The Asset anymore, was he? But he wasn't ‘Bucky’ either; no, he was something- some one - else. He was The Winter Soldier.
His gaze settled on one Tony Stark- threat level 9, potential asset but a liability to Hydra at this time - who breezed into the the room containing his cell- the Hulk’s playroom, he heard it called-, observing him with an easy, genuine smile. “Alright there, Winter Wonder?” he asked, eyes flicking down to the tablet in his hand, fingers dancing across the screen. The Soldier was enthralled by those hands, by the man before him, so full of compassion that he genuinely cared for the Soldier.
He was nothing like Hydra.
Hydra was death, destruction, pain. Anthony Stark was life , joy, bliss . Each smile was a gift, something to be treasured and hoarded, each nickname a symbol of his affection to be cherished. He was something to be worshipped, and as Tony swanned in, sending his heart racing, he knew that he would. One day, he would worship that man and make him his.
He gave a curt nod, which elicited a wider grin from the man before him. “Good. I hate to keep you in here, but, unfortunately, needs must and all that,” he sighed. He looked back up at the Soldier. “Just hang in there, yeah? The sooner we get you better the sooner we can get you out of there.”
Out.
The Soldier resisted the urge to suck in a breath at the thought of freedom. Instead, he nodded, acknowledging the deal provided. ‘Better’. He must get better, and for that to happen ‘Bucky’ must come back. If that got him out of here, out of the containment that felt so suffocating , and closer to the man before him… Well. The Soldier was willing to accept that mission.
After all, he had gone on undercover missions before that had required him to assume an alias, a new identity.
What was one more?
He had thought that the Widow would be the biggest challenge to his mission, but that was proven to be incorrect by ‘call me Steve’ Rogers, the paragon of American patriotism and righteousness.
Time revealed him to also be a paragon of stubbornness and a certain brand of nostalgia that, whilst benefiting the Soldier as it allowed the Captain to overlook certain imperfections in the Soldier’s act, engendered a keen and potent sense of frustration and the urge to lash out and kill him within the man.
But Bucky would accept Rogers’ motherhenning and nostalgia, his touches, the hope within his eyes and the constant speeches about their past together.
And if Bucky would do it then the Soldier must.
Time passed, and the Soldier continued to learn Bucky’s mannerisms through the tapes Stark’s A.I. showed him. With the asset’s help, he began to convince the Avengers of his ‘improvement’.
“I'm so glad, Bucky,” Steve smiled, positively beaming, radiant with his joy, as he was finally released. “I've missed you so much.”
The Soldier smiled, hugging the Captain back, as Bucky would, throwing a snarky comment back at him, as Bucky would. The whole ordeal was over swiftly, the team relocating to the common room to watch a movie in ‘celebration’.
The Soldier didn’t care much for the film, the fake action, the hero he could’ve killed within minutes. No, his attention was focused elsewhere. Tony. He could barely keep his eyes off of him. The beautiful, smart, genius who cared and burned so bright the Soldier just knew that he would be able to melt through the ice that never really left after cryo. His Tony .
His.
And he was his, even if they didn’t know it yet. From the time Stark had spent repairing his arm, offering him the security of causal orders, of expectations and goals, the Soldier knew that he belonged to the man. And the man belonged to him.
“Hey there Buckaroo.” It took all of the Soldier’s discipline not to sink to his knees in submission to his mechanic as he handed him a drink, offering him a careless, cheeky and oh so gorgeous grin. To pledge his life to him, make him his handler, make him understand what he did to him. “Glad you're finally outta there, I nearly staged a breakout for you just lookin’ at you in there.” The man's eyes creased in mirth.
The Soldier grinned back. “I appreciate the sentiment, Doll, but ya know I wouldn't ‘ave left without the all clear from Stevie here.”
Warmth blossomed deep within his chest as Tony’s grin widened, spreading to his toes, thawing the ice in his very soul. “At least we'll finally have someone around to be responsible.”
Steve snorted. “The only one we need to worry about being irresponsible is you, Tony.” His tone was light and amused, but the Soldier wanted to snarl at the way it dimmed Tony’s smile for a split second, unnoticeable to anyone other than him.
“And Clint,” Tony smirked, earning a conceding tilt of the head from the Captain.
The Soldier resisted the urge to clench his fists, instead smiling amicably with faux amusion.
The Soldier promised to himself that if Tony so much as hinted, or implied that he wanted the Avengers gone he would kill them all. They were a nuisance and irritating, and the Soldier cared nothing for them.
He cared for nothing but his sweet, genius mechanic.
He made sure to keep his territorial feelings hidden, though; carefully ensured that not even the Black Widow knew the depth of his obsession with the mechanic. They wouldn’t react well, he knew that.
He didn’t like it. Didn’t like not being able to stake his claim, not when the Captain looked at him like that .
“Hey Frostie, want to have a look at that new arm, now?” Tony sounded excited, and the Soldier knew that he had been working on it since he had first been taken into the tower, had been looking forward to replacing the arm Hydra had made. (It felt, ever so slightly, like he was staking his own claim on the Soldier, and damn if that didn’t do something to him.)
The Soldier raised his head at the nickname, at the sound of his mechanic’s voice, acting like he hadn't been watching him since he walked into the kitchen where the Soldier was eating. The Avengers got… difficult when he didn't eat.
He nodded, pleased. He liked it when the mechanic worked on his arm, liked how it brought him so close to him, the soft brushes of touch it allowed; even if he did have to suffer through having maintenance on his arm. But Tony was gentle and empathetic, so he knew he wouldn’t hurt him, not like Hydra. No, his Tony was too caring, too trusting and nothing at all like Hydra.
“Sure thing, Stark. I know how you’ve been slobberin’ over it like a dog with a bone,” he smirked, standing and making his way over to the smaller man. So small, so vulnerable, a part of him cooed, delighting in how he towered over him, the power it gave him. Even though he would never hurt the man, he liked how much smaller he was, how he could protect him.
Tony laughed slightly, eyes bright. “You betcha.” He grabbed the Soldier’s hand and practically dragged him down to his lab in his eagerness. It was oddly endearing, and the Soldier allowed it. Obviously, because Tony was far too weak to move the Soldier if he didn't want to move. They both knew that, they both liked that. “You stick with me, Soldier, and I’ll show you all the perks of the future, including the upgraded tech,” he winked over his shoulder.
The Soldier sent him a grin, ever so slightly too sharp, too wicked. Tony’s tech would be treasured like precious jewels, just like his smiles, the casual physical affection he gave.
All his, all cherished.
And one day, the Soldier would be able to touch the man as he wanted, would be able to taste, pleasure and treasure the man himself.
Nothing would stop that; it was inevitable. Not even the Avengers would dissuade his genius from becoming truly his, he wouldn’t let them.