Chapter 2
two
There was a clearing of the throat behind him and Tony flinched violently, nearly dropping the empty mug dangling from his fingers as he waited for the coffee machine to finish brewing. He turned only to see Barnes watching him from the shadows, an indecipherable expression on his face.
“James,” Tony said, before he could shut himself up. But the Winter Soldier only nodded at him silently before moving closer, just a little.
“Sit if you want. I was just about to leave.” Tony waved a flippant hand at the row of chairs at the counter while he used his other to pick up his now-refilled coffee. “Don’t have to be shy just because I’m here. It’s all yours.”
“Stay.” Barnes’s voice was gruff as he inched the tiniest bit more into the light.
Tony hesitated, his eyebrows popping up in surprise. “I...um, sure. If you...want me too.”
The shaggy black mane of hair in front of him nodded.
“You should get a haircut,” Tony said before he could think about getting a brain-to-mouth filter. “Um.”
Barnes looked up at him.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to--”
Suddenly, the Winter Soldier sneered, an ugly smirk twisting his features. “Oh, but you never mean to, do you, Stark,” he spat, using the name Tony hated oh so much. I am not my father.
“What--”
“You’re just a disgusting, pathetic, piece of filth,” Barnes continued, and suddenly the metal arm was at Tony’s throat, cold fingers curling around his collar and lifting up. “No wonder everyone still hates you, even after all you’ve done for them, bailing them out of their prison sentences and setting them free. Because in the end, we all know you’re still nothing and you’ll die being nothing.” Tony froze, and Barnes took this moment to crush his hand around the engineer’s throat, choking him, choking him, just like MommommommommomMOM
+++
Tony bolted upright with a start. The sheets were sweat-soaked and tangled around him like vices. Throwing the blankets off him, Tony swung his legs to the side and put his face in his hands in the dark. At least he hadn’t been screaming. If Clint had been crawling through the vents, he most likely would’ve heard Tony in the throes of the nightmare.
He tilted his head upwards to stare at the ceiling. How could everything have gone so completely and utterly wrong in just the span of a few months? First Ultron, then the Civil War, then fucking Ross and Tony was once again left to pick up all the pieces.
He was about to go to the kitchen, get himself a cup of something, possibly coffee or possibly coffee and alcohol mixed together--but then he was reminded of Dream-Barnes, violent and vicious and as sharp as a blade, and decided against it.
No, he’d go down to the bar instead. Get rip roaring drunk. It’d be okay, because all of the Avengers tended to stay away from alcohol except for him. After all, they were better people. Had more self-control.
+++
“Bucky.” The former Winter Soldier didn’t even have to look behind him to know who it was.
“Steve.” The supersoldier seemed a little cowed by the somewhat icy tone in Bucky’s voice.
“Hey, Buck, I was wondering if you wanted to do something with me? Just like, just like old times.” Steve’s voice was openly hopeful, perhaps a bit too openly.
When Bucky didn’t say anything, Steve continued eagerly. “It’s just that I know it’s a new time. Heck, of course I know, I’m going through the same thing as you.” The Winter Soldier tensed, but Steve didn’t seem to notice. “It’s not like before, you know? But we can still have fun. I gotta introduce you to all the new things in the world. Stark’s showed me some fancy things--” The blonde paused. “About Stark. I’m sorry for his behavior. I know he makes you really uncomfortable, but he doesn’t mean to. That’s just his personality--brash and rude.”
Bucky finally turned towards his ex-best friend, shrugging. “I don’t mind,” he said gruffly. “Stark seems like a good man.”
“Well--sure.” Steve seemed nonplussed. “He just makes things come out in really…”
Bucky turned away again.
“Hey, Buck.” Steve grabbed the other man’s shoulder, and Bucky had to physically tamp down his assassin instincts to grab Steve’s fingers, break all the bones in his hand, and push him away. “Want to maybe watch a movie in the living room tomorrow night? It’ll be fun, just like the old times.”
“Maybe I don’t want it to be like the old times,” Bucky snapped hoarsely, and shoved off his chair. “I’m real sorry, Steve, but I’m not the old me anymore. You’re looking for the Bucky that isn’t there. If he ever was, he died a long time ago. I’ll come to the movie night, for you. But I can’t...I can’t be the same man.” As he left, he pretended like he couldn’t feel Steve’s shocked and hurt gaze burning into his shoulder blades.
Of course, as fate would have it, a frustrated Bucky Barnes found himself in the company of none other than Tony Stark. After he’d stormed out of the room and left Steve, he’d just turned down random hallways and passed rooms he’d never seen before, taking the elevator to floors he chose with his eyes closed and finger blindly stabbing the button. Which, somehow, led him to Stark.
Bucky wasn’t really sure what he thought of the billionaire. He’d heard several opinions from other people, most of the adjectives of which included the words “unstable”, “disgusting”, “rude”, and “wealthy fucking asshole who deserves to get locked up in a pit” (Clint). But to him, Tony seemed alright. Though, on the other hand, Bucky definitely didn’t know the guy as well as the other Avengers seemed to. After all, they certainly had a lot of opinions on the who and what of Tony Stark.
“Oh, look, he’s here! The Winter Soldier, the murderer! He’s here!” Tony babbled as he slipped and landed on his knees, looking at Bucky with bleary eyes.
With a start, Bucky realized the man was drunk--and not only drunk, incredibly, incredibly drunk off his feet. There were two bottles scattered on the floor, empty, and three shot glasses. And, of course, the half-drunk one swinging from the billionaire’s hand.
Bucky was just about to leave, feeling like he was interrupting a somehow private moment, when Tony shouted, “Nu-no, stay, stay.” He flapped his hand, inviting the soldier to come over.
“...”
“C’mon, I wanna g’t t’ know the guy who saw m’ p’rents last,” Tony slurred, grabbing onto the Winter Soldier’s metal arm. Bucky growled deep in his throat as memories came back to him, too fast and too painful to fully grasp.
Tony immediately changed, stumbling back with fear in his wide brown eyes. The billionaire fumbled backwards while throwing his arms up in self-defense.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Bucky gritted out as a headache throbbed through his skull. Tamping down his memories made him ache like no tomorrow.
“Yes, y’s y’are,” the engineer said, glaring at him. “You killed m’ mom, who says y’ won’t k’ me?”
“I do.” Bucky turned away. He didn’t know how to handle this; none of his programming had ever taught him how and it had been too long since he’d had to deal with his fellow soldiers getting tipsy and having to drag them out. And he didn’t really think Stark would react well with his parents’ murderer hauling him to his bedroom like that.
“Th’t d’sn’t mean much,” Tony mumbled grumpily, crossing his arms and setting down his bottle childishly.
Bucky was starting to shake, breathing harder and clenching his eyes shut. God, this was too much strain for him, too much stress, he couldn’t even look at Tony right now. Every time he saw Howard Stark’s son, he saw his hand slamming a weathered grey skull into the dashboard and watching the lights go out of twin dark eyes, fingers crushing the larynx of a slender Italian throat. And Stark was talking too much, slurring too much, it was getting all mixed up in his head and he couldn’t, fuck he couldn’t…
“Hey. Shh. S’okay.” Bucky looked up to see Stark settled a few feet away, hands planted firmly on the floor and a solemn expression on his face. “”M sorry, for--for whatiss worth.”
“You. Have nothing to be sorry for,” Bucky gasped out between harsh chuckles, but his voice came sounding sharp and harsh and guttural. Just like how he always had as the Winter Soldier. He ducked his head, angry at himself for sounding so disgustingly mean and so disgustingly like the rough edge he had tried to get rid of so many times.
“I h’ve ev’rything t’ be s’rry for,” Stark said quietly, and Bucky had the inkling that the man wasn’t talking about this moment anymore. He watched the billionaire and the billionaire’s dark eyes watched back.
“Why,” Bucky said darkly, bitterly. Memories were writhing inside of his head, like poisonous snakes entangled with his blood.
Stark smiled at him, a smile full of pain. “Bein’ born,” he muttered. “Merchant a Death. Ultron. Civil War. You. Afgh’nistan. T’berius Stone. Howard Stark. Pepper. M’ whole entire life, Barnes, at least you d’dn’t have control over your own b’dy, y’h’ve--h’ve an escuse. I. I don’t.”
Bucky stiffened. “I had control over everything.”
“No.” Stark’s eyes lifted to meet his again. They were like milk chocolate, but with flecks of gold and coal. “You didn’.”
Bucky stood abruptly, shoulders still trembling, and left the room. Stark stayed on the floor, and when Bucky glanced back, he saw the engineer fumbling for the bottle again, barely able to stand up. He wasn’t sure if that was because of the alcohol, or because of everything else that was crushing them both.