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lovelyirony · 4 years

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Title: I wish i could forget you

Tony Stark was not supposed to be in the car when Howard and Maria Stark attended a Christmas holiday party for another company. In fact, Hydra had wanted him to stay home.

Unfortunately, Tony had ticked off Howard a bit too much, and so here he was in a tuxedo that was a bit too big, uncomfortably shiny shoes, and a temper that was close to blowing.

Thank god they were almost home.

When a car crashes, one almost can’t believe it. Tony can see the outside blurring, and he can hear glass crunching, and he hears things that he really doesn’t want to hear. He is fairly sure that Maria screamed.

A metal arm.

Huh.

Well, not the most typical. He also doesn’t think that the man knows he’s here.

Howard and Maria Stark are killed. Tony feels like shit because he couldn’t do anything. His forehead is bleeding and he didn’t want to move out of fear for himself, which seems selfish, but also maybe a survival instinct?

God, his bow-tie is still constricting air flow.

Once the man turns, Tony realizes that he wasn’t the target. They probably had no idea he was in the car, whoever “they” were.

He gets out of the car. The car door creaks, and the man whips around.

His eyes widen.

“You--what?”

The voice is surprisingly American.

Surprisingly? He’s not sure why it’s surprising, it’s not like an American can’t kill just look at history, but still, Kind of surprising.

"What, wasn’t supposed to be here?” Tony rasps out. He realizes now that he’s basically sent himself a death sentence as the man surges forward.

“What are you doing here?”

His eyes are piercing. Also very, very familiar with some photographs that Peggy has on her mantle and her desk.

James “Bucky” Barnes. Son of a bitch.

“What are you doing alive?” Tony asks. “I thought you were lost in a ravine in Europe somewhere.”

“What--huh?”

“Ravine. In Europe. You know who you are, right? Is this some kind of sick...what did they do to you?”

“I do not know what you are talking about.”

His eyes get cold again.

“Who are you?”

“I am the Asset.”

It is now that Tony realizes that every single shitty sci-fi book is probably right, and his disdain of “wacky science” and “magic” have all been for nothing, because here is Bucky Barnes, who apparently has no idea who he is.

Then Tony gets knocked on his ass. His body slams against the icy road, and Barnes is rushing towards a motorcycle.

And he’s alone. He can’t breathe, all the wind knocked out of his chest. He thinks he broke a couple of ribs.

No one believes him. At all. SHIELD brushes it aside.

“There’s no way Barnes could be alive. You were probably just seeing things,” they tell him. “Would you like us to find you a therapist?”

“No,” Tony says, and they ask why. He laughs, sipping on his water. “SHIELD has so much loyalty to itself, I’m afraid I’d be compromised.”

“Therapists aren’t supposed to divulge any information,” Nick Fury adds carefully. “And we’re a secret-keeping bunch. Nothing goes out that comes in.”

“Unless, of course, it’s necessary,” Tony drawls, staring at Fury. God, the leather outfit...that’s weird. “Then I’m out in the open, Nicky. And what fun is that unless I get to show off an outfit in full-coverage?”

“...I’ll have an agent escort you home. We’ll have guards overnight.”

“Don’t bother.”

“And why is that? Think you can handle it by yourself?”

“Fury, my family has made a career out of thinking a lot of things. You’re not being as detrimental as you think.”

He finger-waves, grinning and winking at agents on the way out.

Now comes paranoia. This is welcome, actually, because it’s allowing him to work up new security measures and hack into various security cameras around the world to see if he can find Barnes.

It’s like he’s a ghost. And fuck, maybe Fury was right. Tony doesn’t like that, but that may be it.

Merry fucking Christmas.

Years go by, and Tony keeps a tiny ear to any news about mysterious deaths that can’t be explained. A man that glows in lamp-light, has no identity. He’s not sure if it could be Barnes. God knows he’s no longer seventeen, and Barnes--it if it was Barnes--would be way older. He should’ve been an old man in 1991, but he wasn’t.

It kind of reminds him of the conspiracy theory that Walt Disney was kept cryogenically frozen, which is just ridiculous, because as far as he’s concerned, you’d need a bit more to you than just regular skin and bones.

And this is where it hits him.

Barnes was experimented on when he was captured by Hydra. Peggy told him that Rogers told her that he was repeating his dog tag number over and over, as if someone was trying to take him over.

Yeah, you’d need a bit more.

Like a fucking super soldier serum.

This then delves into Tony realizing that if Barnes is flash-frozen, then...well, could Rogers have survived? He always thought his dad was crazy, but a broken clock is right twice a week or however the hell that saying goes. He never used it, he wasn’t a broken clock.

(He was broken, but he’s not going to compare himself to a clock. Perhaps Model-T.)

They find Rogers. Tony realizes Howard did his math completely wrong for years, and probably never let anyone look at it because he was a World Super Genius. And a Colossal Dick.

Steve Rogers is one tough cookie to crack. Tony chips off some of the ice and puts it in a glass of scotch.

“Do you really think that’s the most appropriate thing to do?” Phil Coulson asks.

He’s shocked, but mainly because Tony has seen his Cap collection, and that man has so many limited edition cards and lunchboxes that it’s a bit crazy. But at least he knows how to decorate with it and not have it look like an absolute nutjob swept into his house and did it all in red-white-and-blue.

“Phil, my darling, when have I ever done anything the appropriate way?” Tony asks. He stares at the face that’s emerging out of the ice. “Besides, what else are you going to do with this ice, hm? Besides melt it all off?”

Steve is a miracle. Every scientist on earth wants to poke and prod at him.

Tony breaks him out of SHIELD in a week, because he swears to shit if one more scientist asks to take blood samples “to see how going under Arctic temperatures affects the bloodstream” (and also take DNA for cloning) he’s going to lose it.

Fury yells at him for two hours.

Steve flips Fury off from the couch, where he’s been channel-surfing for the better part of three hours.

“You’ve already corrupted him,” Fury scowls. “Rogers, we need to talk--”

“He’s retired,” Tony says.

(Steve is not, technically. Hasn’t said anything. But Tony is putting him on mandatory retirement for at least a year.)

“What’s...what the ever-loving fuck is that?” Steve asks.

An infomercial. For an automated chair. Mostly used for old people.

Tony grins.

“You wanna see how fast I can launch you out of one?”

“I’m going to say yes. Professionally.”

Ten miles an hour, and Steve goes flying across the room into a pile of pillows.

It’s not the end-all solution. God knows Steve calls him “Howard” and asks where a lot of nasty food is, and sometimes can’t tell the difference between what his brain is seeing and what is actually there.

But Tony gets him help. And Steve goes to art school.

It’s all very funny, actually. Steve rants about “modern art” and how “if he could kill any concept it would be abstract expressionism, what the fuck.”

Tony buys and then donates a Rothko in his honor.

Steve fumes, but finds it hilarious.

Then, there’s the attack on New York.

Norse god of mischief decides to end New York, blah blah blah.

Captain America reappears, everyone loses their shit, and Tony almost dies.

Then he gets four other roomies besides Steve, and he has to make a chore chart. Ugh.

Barnes reappears in France. Tony gets a fairly good image, and Natasha stills.

“You know about Winter Soldier?”

“Barnes? Yeah.”

“You know who he is?”

“James Barnes. At least, I think. He tried to kill me, wasn’t very successful at it.”

Steve overhears.

This leads to a chain of events that ends in Steve not coming to family dinner because he’d rather sit in his room and listen to Green Day or Glenn Miller or whatever the hell gets him even more upset.

“Listen, Steve, I’m sorry. But up until this picture? I was only about sixty percent sure I wasn’t full of beans.”

“Why is that the phrase you use?”

“What, full of beans? Bruce says I have to work on my cursing. Apparently, children are impressionable. Who knew?”

It’s not a total success. Steve still doesn’t like that Tony didn’t outright tell him, but Tony isn’t going to tell Steve that he has the mental stability of a single cashew.

So begins the hunt for Barnes. Which actually isn’t too bad.

He’s in DC. Not for any political clean-up, unfortunately. He’s trying to kill Fury. Tony doesn’t know why, at least until he looks up Pierce, who’s technically, mostly retired from SHIELD.

And yet still uses most resources that technically? He needs more than one authorization from multiple people.

God, people are getting bad at covering their tracks. Used to be harder to catch and see if someone was doing dirty deals.

(Okay, not like he can talk because Obie was...well, no use in discussing that now. He needs to focus.)

Nat and Steve are bad at lying. This kind of surprises him, because Steve is usually a successful liar. He’s convinced Clint that it’s not him who keeps eating his peanut-butter-fudge ice cream, but Thor.

And Natasha used to be Natalie Rushman. Then again, Tony was poisoned during that one, so that might just be on him.

Helicarriers go in the water.

Tony’s working on making sure most of the information doesn’t reach the general public, although he can’t stop it all.

Barnes falls off the face of the earth, and Steve wants to go on another treasure hunt.

“Let him come to us, or figure himself out.”

“This isn’t a college kid going backpacking in Europe for a year,” Nat snaps. “He’s...you know who he is, who he was, and what he can do.”

“Counterpoint: we don’t know if he secretly really wanted to see traditional decoration of Ukrainian Easter eggs,” Tony says. “God knows that I want to learn more about that.”

“Is everything a joke to you?”

"Only on federally mandated holidays,” Tony says with a shrug. “But let him be. Steve, it’s one thing that he didn’t kill you. It’s another thing that he hauled you up from the Potomac. I’m not sure I would’ve done that because who goes up alone to a helicarrier?”

“Historically nobody,” Natasha says. “Most people don’t have any helicarriers.”

“God, this situation sucks,” Tony says. “What if. We potentially. Ignore all of it and have spinach and artichoke dip? Hm?”

“With toasted bread?”

“I’m not an animal, Steve.”

“Your penchant for four a.m. coffee while you don’t realize you’re singing songs from the seventies says otherwise,” he responds.

“Well well well, if it isn’t the punishment of you getting the aux taken away for a week,” Tony taunts.

“Oh, come on!” Steve whines.

“Nope, just you having to listen to more of Bruce’s questionable tastes.”

“Fuck.”

Barnes comes stateside. The only reason Tony knows this is because Jarvis says that he may have spotted Barnes, but he’s not sure.

“J, you’re the most advanced system in the world, not to mention my son, and you like to hack into the Pentagon for funsies.”

“All of that could not have prepared me for this.”

Barnes is wearing a neon green tank top that is advertising Coco Beach in Florida.

“Can I laugh? Or is that sad?”

“Multitask, Sir.”

“Oh, true.”

Barnes is not in New York. Tony has to near-about put an electric fence around the whole state so that Steve doesn’t go on a road trip.

Hell, Tony doesn’t even trust him to go to coffee alone, but that’s a bit much.

“We have to wait,” Tony says.

Sam Wilson is a godsend. Also the funniest man Tony knows.

He is also emotionally healthy and very perceptive, so he has been noticing that Tony is nervous.

Because how do you face the man who killed your parents? Technically?

“Are you talking to your therapist?” Sam asks. “Just thinking you should.”

“Sam, we’re working on my issues from 2007. Believe it or not, it will be taking a full year.”

“I don’t like that I can never tell if you’re serious.”

“I know you remember the tabloids from 2007, I wrote a mesh vest. Clearly, I need so much help.”

Sam snorts.

“Maybe. Hey, I’ll catch you later. Clint and I are gonna go try and find some questionable shirts to crop.”

“Did his little protege convince you? Bishop, right?”

“Kate, yeah. She’s convinced our public image will go viral or something. Good luck with helping Steve and Nat with your super-soldier hunt.”

“Thanks. Let me know if you find a shirt with my face on it. I want it.”

Sam snorts.

“Will do.”

Bucky Barnes comes to New York in early May. The springtime is slowly but surely fading off, sun approaching more and more. Tony is enjoying coffee on a veranda, and then suddenly his waiter is nowhere to be found and he’s not entirely sure if his visitor takes credit or debit.

“Can I help you?”

“Maybe. Depends on if you’re gonna kill me or not.”

“I think Steve would be a bit broken up about it.”

“Do you care what he thinks?”

“On this situation? Yes. When it comes to culinary choices? No.”

There’s a ghost of a smile on his face. Tony’s trying extremely hard not to remember shattered glass and a motorcycle on ice.

“Can we, uh, table this conversation? For later. Espresso and all that, plus the added bonus of our shared history, so...”

“Shared history?”

“You don’t remember?” Tony asks. Bucky shakes his head. “Ah. Then this is truly a comedy of errors. Maybe. Um. Listen, I, uh...I gotta go. You need to talk to Nat or Steve or hell, maybe even Thor. Is Thor a good option?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Barnes, I can’t exactly face you right now.”

And then he jumps off a balcony.

A fucking balcony.

Jesus H. Christ, his therapist is gonna be so excited for their next session.

The suit wraps itself around him, and he can finally breathe, and he’s thinking about calling Pepper and see if she would like to schedule him a vacation for maybe anywhere but New York and Iowa.

“Why not Iowa?” Pepper asks. “They have good antique stores. I’ve gotten quite a few good finds for clothes.”

“I can do shopping retail literally anywhere else, absolutely not.”

“Spoilsport. Steve know you’re leaving?”

“I didn’t even really tell Steve what happened with my parents.”

“Oh, your therapist called. She sounded concerned, but also intrigued.”

“It’s because Sally almost became an employee of NASA and still has a soft spot for aerodynamics.”

“What exactly did you do when faced with Barnes?”

“Check the front tabloid page tomorrow, just tell everyone I’m out of town.”

“Got it. And Tony?”

Her voice is soft.

“Yes, dear?”

He can feel her rolling her eyes. Affectionately, of course, but rolling all the same.

“Be safe, and come back. You know Rhodey and I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

A week is spent in Malibu. He really is thinking about selling this place. But for now, it suffices.

Steve texts him.

bucky’s back. holy shit

be back in a week. radio silence.

got it. no more messages from me. thor tells me to tell you that he broke the sink

:((((

And that’s it. He’s sitting in the house for a week, has already called Sally once and explained how his suit works, and then listened to her talk about how “his reliance on the suit to help him escape unfavorable situations is not exactly the healthiest but also none of my clients have had to face someone who is of weird standing.”

It’s no secret that Tony doesn’t like Howard Stark. Who would’ve liked that sorry excuse for a father, a man who was so cold-hearted the Arctic looked like a tropical paradise?

Maria was...Maria was different.

She wasn’t a good mother. No, she was never a good mother. But she tried, and she didn’t deserve her fate.

And then there was the question of Bucky Barnes. Who wasn’t Bucky when he was there, but still so damn recognizable.

It’s kind of like when there’s a movie about a famous person, and another person plays them. Like Tom Hanks, essentially. Bucky played whoever the fuck they get Tom Hanks to play and it’s similar: you see the resemblance, but it’s not it.

So yeah.

There’s also the little tidbit that things get complicated when you involve personal feelings and rationality, and really? Tony misses New York. A lot. And he’s not going to let someone else overtake his life just because he’s uncomfortable.

So he flies back to New York.

He’s in a bad way, Barnes is.

“He remembered you,” Steve says. “What he did.”

“Ah, there’s that.”

“He doesn’t have to be here,” Natasha says. “I have a couple of SHIELD safe houses to choose from.”

“None would be adequate to house something like me,” comes the response.

Barnes looks remarkably shitty, as if he hasn’t slept in eighty years. And maybe he hasn’t.

“Jail would be more fitting.”

Tony rolls his eyes.

“You are literally the most dramatic person ever, and Bruce threatened to take over the government because Thor ate the last croissant. Put those on the grocery list, Steve

“We’re not gonna throw you in jail,” he continues on. “Not because you happened to be used as a goddamned Swiss army knife. I have issues, sure, but I’m not going to be going all Hannibal Lecter or whatever.”

“Who the hell is that?”

“Cannibal. I realized that that’s a terrible comparison, please forgive me.”

“Why a cannibal?”

“Couldn’t think of anything else but Anthony Hopkins, the actor. My mistake. Point is, we’re gonna have to go through some channels, and I’m introducing you to BARF, as well as a new person who’s gonna rock your world.”

“I’m pretty much well-acquainted with vomit.”

“No, not that,” Tony says. “Although we can cover that through my 2005 edition of partying if we really wanna dig up some old magazine interviews. No, I’m introducing you to something that’s going to change your life.”

After that, Tony doesn’t have much to do with Bucky’s life.

He serves as a permanent guilt trip, nothing says “well, shit” much like being a permanent guilt trip.

Sally tells him that they should talk it out. Do all that “and how do you feel?” questioning that makes his skin crawl and his eyes ascend to the ceiling.

I mean yeah, they share a living space. Tony has seen Bucky laugh and smile with Sam, talk with Bruce about a really interesting article about regeneration of plant cells or whatever, and Bucky enjoys videochatting with Wakandan royalty.

(It also helps that Shuri is blunt as ever, but so blisteringly smart. He’s reading her paper on regeneration of nanotechnology, and it just...it’s the Pieta of research, that paper.)

But he never speaks to Bucky. Well, he does. But it’s more along the lines of “hey Barnes” and “how are you?” which aren’t exactly the Most Thought Provoking Statements Ever Made.

Summer comes swiftly, and about near with a vengeance. Tony’s dealing with a heat wave and trying to figure out if going outside is even worth it, and then he and Bucky are alone in the kitchen.

Tony was debating getting a couple of popsicles from the freezer. Bucky is considering sabotaging Clint’s smoothie that was supposed to be special for tonight, but that he’ll most likely forget.

“Hey,” Bucky says. “Um, can we talk?”

Shit.

He’s been avoiding this, officially, for a month. Potentially more if you’re going to count a few choice events that have been brought up by his psyche.

“Sure thing, buttercup. What are we talking about. Economy, world crises, the great debate on financial advice?”

“Isn’t the third thing just the economy?”

“We can break it down over coffee.”

“Mm, maybe another time. No, I’m talking about us. About how I--I kind of ruined your life.”

Tony blinks.

“You didn’t ruin my life. If my life was ruined you’d be hit with so many lawsuits that I could make the rest of your life look like the third circle of Hell, or wherever it is that people go nowadays in Dante’s eyes. No, you didn’t ruin my life.”

“I still killed your parents.”

“If you hadn’t, someone else would’ve. Believe me, there were about fifteen others in line. Sometimes, myself included.”

“You can’t not take me seriously,” Bucky stresses. “I still did a terrible thing. I just want to make sure you know that you’re being too kind.”

“I most certainly am not,” Tony says. “Being too kind would have me feeding you grapes.”

Bucky’s face blanks.

“Don’t. I...I don’t wanna take advantage of your hospitality. I don’t want to remind you of what happened.”

“You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t wanted,” Tony says. “Believe me. And if you want to leave, you’re free to leave. I don’t want to make you feel like you need to stay here.”

“I...I want to make it up to you.”

“Then use BARF and review it,” Tony says. “I’m serious. I need user feedback, and you’re the best candidate for it. Also, please try to convince Steve to wear neon yellow. I just want to see if he’ll do it.”

Steve wears neon yellow. Tony laughs so hard he cries.

Bucky smiles.

It’s a nice smile, really. It’s wide and happy and wow. That’s all worth it.

And then BARF. Bucky just gives user feedback, nothing else. Tony doesn’t want to know anything else, but they start talking more.

Tony finds out that Bucky’s been doing crosswords to catch up on current events, and he’s bought taped recordings of World Series games.

He loves antique stores. He visits them and brings home little trinkets that he remembers in his own house, or what he remembered. He watched old commercials from the fifties and sixties, laughed as he remembered the Sears catalogs that would come in the mail.

“Me an’ my sisters would beg my mom for new clothes from the catalog, and she never would. Always sewed our pants and skirts so damn well, I probably could’ve used them for the next ten years.”

Tony laughs.

“Well, I can’t promise I can sew. But I could give you some armor that could last you twenty years, if you want. Steve told me you’re thinking about doing some distance missions.”

“Just observation, no armor required.”

“Sometimes it’s the simple missions that get the worst hits,” Tony says. “Believe me, I know how it goes. So, do you want some armor?”

Bucky smiles.

“Sure.”

“I’ll need feedback.”

“I’ll give it all I’ve got.”

Bucky is a goddamned dream to design for. He knows exactly what he needs, what areas are most likely to be pierced, and also has a flair for the dramatic: he requests an Iron Man helmet be embroidered on the back.

“You’re really just trying to be sweet on me, aren’t you?” Tony teases.

“My master plan to gain your fortune,” Bucky teases right back. “I’ll waste it all on champagne pools and the worst-looking but most expensive shoes I can find.”

Tony laughs.

“Sugar, that’d be incredible if you could spend all of my money on that. I’d commend you.”

Bucky smiles, and it shouldn’t be as nice of a smile as it is, but here Tony is with his opinions and his concerning thought that maybe he wants to see more of Bucky.

In the morning, there begins a routine. Tony is always up at eight o’clock. It’s a rare lull in Avenger-morning-routines: Nat, Steve, and Bruce are all done, and Thor and Clint won’t be in until ten o’clock at the earliest.

(What can he say? Thor’s a god and Clint...well. He needs a lot of beauty sleep.)

Tony makes coffee, and Bucky makes them both breakfast. Says that officially, it’s to test and make sure that his prosthetic is still performing under optimal conditions.

(They both know that’s not it.)

Tony always says he pours too much water, makes enough for two cups.

Steve calls them out on it.

“You two are being weird,” he says. “And not like Thor and Bruce trying to reenact that one show about ghosts and unsolved things.”

“That’s their form of courtship, don’t be fucking rude,” Clint remarks. Natasha snorts.

“What, us being weird?” Tony asks, pouring a bit more coffee into Bucky’s mug. He always uses too much creamer and then won’t finish his coffee unless there’s more. “Why do you say that?”

“It’s because you both do couple shit,” Bruce says, breezing into the kitchen. “Also, Steve, lovely to see that you have volunteered to be the next guest on Avengers: Unsolved. We’re planning on using you as a guilt-trip in order to access files about aliens.”

“Truth will be found!” Thor adds. “But also, yes. Bucky, I thought you were taking him on a date to the art museum on Saturday.”

Bucky turns red. So does Tony. It really is quite inconvenient.

“I mean, we could go on a date there,” Tony says. “If you’re okay with that.”

“You’re doing this in public?” Natasha asks, eyebrows raised. “Hm. Would not have called that.”

“You owe me fifteen dollars,” Bucky says. “Not you Tony, quit looking at me like that. Yes, it will be a date on Saturday, I’ll wear a nice shirt. Nat said that I couldn’t do anything that surprised her.”

“Technically, Tony surprised me.”

“I thought dates were mutual events, hm? Fifteen dollars. I’ll use it to buy the best bouquet in New York.”

“The best bouquet costs over a thousand dollars,” Thor answers.

“Not questioning how you know that, but I’m scared of you,” Bucky says. “Then I will get the best fifteen-dollar-bouquet in New York.”

Tony snorts, smiling.

“I guess I’ll spray a bit of my perfume on my pillow then, soldier.”

“I’ll pick you up at noon sharp,” Bucky says, grinning. He finishes his coffee. “We’ll make fun of Steve’s art exhibit together.”

#lovelyirony writes #holy shit this was longer than expected #thank you to angel for this inspiration #winteriron #avengers as a family #personally i like the fact that thor and bruce are doing avengers unsolved and have to force different avengers on #natasha romanoff #bruce banner #thor #bucky barnes #tony stark #howard stark #maria stark #sally the therapist

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