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glowstickhaloboy · 5 years

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you’ve heard of lazy bookshop snake, now get ready for ALERT 1941 SNAKE SPY

admittedly, crowley forgets to set an alarm. well, he doesn’t forget. he intentionally doesn’t set one because he means not to get up until he’s good and ready. he just forgets to make sure that ‘good and ready’ doesn’t mean ‘after around one hundred years.’ it’s embarrassing. and, if aziraphale ever puts two and two together, it’ll be more than a little bit telling.

anyway, when he wakes up, he’s twistier than he remembers being when he fell asleep. and he has more scales.

oh. he’s a snake again. he could just…

well, he doesn’t quite remember how to switch back. he’s groggy. last night, the people outside his window wore bulky coats and fancy hats, and now they’ve got fewer layers, cleaner trims to what they have got on, and the hats are way smaller. and carriages found a way to go without horses. those look dangerous, he thinks, and decides that he likes the look of them.

he also decides that staying in this form and slithering about for awhile is way easier than trying to blend in right away. no one will question a snake. snakes are still around, aren’t they? must be. can’t go extinct in a century.

(they certainly could, if humans puts their minds to it. he just has to hope.)

it’s rainy outside, which is god’s way of saying, don’t worry. it is still london. crowley keeps close to the edges of buildings and projects a shield to make sure ordinary, dull eyes don’t notice him. the people walk on, chattering.

“she’s certain he’s going to ask her to marry him, and her parents couldn’t be more thrilled…”

“look out for the car, dear.”

“…heard it this morning on the radio, just as charlie was heading off to work…”

“…never get over it, the way he looked when she opened the door and he handed her the telegram. keep expecting him to walk…”

crowley halts and circles back at that last one. two women stand at a corner lamppost, smoking small pipes that aren’t pipes, one of them constantly looking up to keep tears from leaking out her eyes.

“it’s just the same with my aunt sarah,” says the girl who really isn’t crying, the one with her back to a great, eavesdropping snake. “she hasn’t heard from our cousin timothy in probably months now.”

“they’re stealing all our bloody men,” says the girl who is crying, but would certainly deny it if you pointed it out. “how did it get this bad? how did the entire world let it get this bad, again?”

“let’s head inside, huh? get something hot to eat.”

the girls walk away, leaving crowley with all the hints he needs to surmise the obvious: war.

really, there’s too much about the world that never changes.

just like that, though he’s been trying not to think about it, he knows where he needs to go. (okay, not where he needs to go. actually, where he definitely shouldn’t go. but he wants to go there, so he does.)

he heads to the bookshop.

it’s closed at the moment, but if crowley closes his eyes and concentrates, he can feel aziraphale’s aura inside. the same as ever. oh. sure, crowley’s been unconscious, drifting, for most of the last century, but it’s like his body understand how long it’s actually been since he felt that presence nearby.

aziraphale... he’s nearby again. like nothing’s changed.

it’s not a perfect way to say, ‘hey, i’m back’ but it’s as good as anything else crowley can come up with. besides, why should he pull all the stops? aziraphale is the one who should be making the gesture, considering he all but–

not what matters, not what matters. he’s getting way too distracted.

big snakes don’t belong in bookshops, crowley thinks, and he focuses all of his energy on changing. and… well… he gets it a little right. a genie in a lamp would call this change exactly 100% correct.

he’s no longer a big snake.

he’s a little one.

which still isn’t human, but, come to think of it, it’ll all that’s necessary for crowley to slip through the mail slot on the door, so he rolls with it (because now that he thinks about it, he still is quite too tetchy to talk to aziraphale face to face. but maybe just stopping in to see how the angel is doing will be enough to stay crowley for a week while he gets his legs back under him.)

even as he’s sliding up the door, a woman walks right up to it and knocks. it swings open for her, taking crowley with it, a living squiggle who would have been instantly caught, were it not for the fact that aziraphale is actually not on the other side controlling the swing. no one is. the woman enters and shuts it behind her, but not before crowley can drop to the floor and race for a dark corner.

“you ought to get that door looked at,” says the woman. “wind blew it right open.”

“of course,” says a new voice, one that, had crowley not already been cold-blooded, would have made his blood go cold. (or, at least, appropriately nippy.)

it’s aziraphale. looking cleaner, and pretty casual, and… good. he looks good.

even as he whispers to the door, “quit acting so eager. i know it’s exciting, but this is just a business transaction.”

he hasn’t seemed to notice crowley, who can hardly believe he’s looking at aziraphale again. he... has to admit that, at the moment, he can’t quite remember why he’s been angry.

“have they agreed to meet at the... place i specified?” aziraphale asks the woman tentatively. she smiles at him.

“the church. yes. we can speak freely here, mr. fell, i assure you. unless there’s something you’re not telling me.”

he laughs at the thought, and she laughs with him. at him? it’s hard to tell. it’s hard to get a read on her at all. what is the angel up to?

“and you have all the books they requested?” the woman continues.

“oh, yes. well. all the ones it is possible to get. tell me, these, um... nazis--” (he whispers the word like its something he doesnt want his parents to hear) “--they aren’t expecting our little trick? at all?”

“no, mr. fell. rest assured. the real plan is a complete secret.”

oh. so while crowley’s been sleeping, aziraphale has been cavorting with humans doing important work during a war. that’s a boost to the self-esteem.

aziraphale and the woman--named rose, crowley eventually learns--speak a little more at length about how to catch these “nazis,” and crowley learns a few more unpleasant facts about the truly gruesome nature of this war (and the one before it, which he apparently also missed.) then, as rose leaves, he notices something small, something that aziraphale doesn’t even blink at.

a small lilt. an extra hard consonant on a word ending with a ‘g’ and crowley thinks was that right? that wasn’t right.

he decides that maybe tailing her for a day or so wouldn’t hurt. just to see what’s really going on. and, if he happens to figure out how to stop being a snake before this meeting he now knows the exact time and location of, he just might be able to pull out all the stops when aziraphale sees him again.

ask me if i care AT ALL if this follows the established canon timeline!! i sure don’t!! it’s for the tropes babey!!!!!

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dracusfyre · 6 years

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Square K5: Dear Thor (you’re still a dick)

Warnings: None

Rating: General

Relationship: Loki/Tony

Words: 2,964

Summary: Tony writes a letter to Thor and thinks back over the years since he got soul bonded to Loki (AKA Five Things Tony Learned About Loki) For Square K5: Five Things. This is a Sequel to Square R4: Read the Fine Print and Square R1: Conspiracy of Ravens. I’ve officially turned all these soul bond fics into a series called Loki Radio.

for @tonystarkbingo

On AO3!

Tony turned off his monitor and spun idly in his chair, finally admitting that he was not going to be able to concentrate on work. There were too many thoughts spinning around his head to focus on equations right now.

“Can you, like, carry a letter? Not just relay a verbal message?” Tony asked the raven sitting on the monitor, basking in the warm air coming off the CPU fan. The bird quorked and fluffed its feathers, bobbing its head up and down. “Awesome.” Tony stopped his chair and searched through his desk for a pen and a piece of paper, because writing a letter to an ancient Norse god/alien to be delivered via magic raven seemed like something that should be done by hand.

Dear Thor; Tony began, then squinted at Dear. He got a new sheet of paper and started over.

Thor;

I hope this letter finds you well. Tony made a face. “Goddammit, this is why we invented computers,” he muttered and got a third sheet of paper.

Thor;

I want to let you know that you can stop avoiding me now, I’m not mad about the thing with Loki anymore. Not saying that you don’t still owe me one or a dozen favors, not the least that another bottle of that mead you brought that one time.

The past two year or so has been pretty interesting, to say the least. I’ve definitely learned a lot about Loki that someone didn’t bother to warn me about. For one thing, you could have mentioned that he is a nosy bastard. I mean, seriously. He has the whole universe to screw around in and he can’t help but meddle here on Earth?

beware the readmore

“Stark?”

Tony glanced out from under the car he was tinkering with and saw Loki looking down at him expectantly. With a sigh, Tony rolled out from under the car and wiped his hands before accepting Loki’s helping hand of the floor. “What do you need, Loki?”

“Do you know anything about this man?” An illusion of a man appeared in the middle of Tony’s lab, scowling darkly out at the viewer. He had long brown hair covered by a baseball hat and was wearing clean but worn clothes. Tony squinted and walked around the illusion, but despite the fact that the man looked vaguely familiar Tony couldn’t place him.

“No…JARVIS, can you run a facial recognition on it?”

“Of course, sir.” Loki had long ago ceased to search for the source of the disembodied voice after Tony had explained what an AI was. “No matching records in any current photo ID database, sir,” JARVIS reported after a moment.

“Huh,” Tony said in surprise, sitting down at his computer and opening a new window. “Where did you catch a glimpse of this guy?”

“He’s been following Captain Rogers for ten days now but refuses to either engage or make contact.” Loki leaned against Tony’s desk and crossed his arms, drumming his fingers on his biceps thoughtfully. “I thought at first it was an enemy, but now I’m not so sure.”

“JARVIS, expand search to archived records, foreign databases, and all intelligence community databases,” Tony said. He rolled around the corner of his desk so he could look Loki in the face. “So why have you’ve been following Captain Rogers, Loki?”

“Information is power, Stark,” Loki said with an enigmatic smile. “You never know.”

“Loki, it is a specific clause in the contract that there will be no more attempts to take over-” Tony started, but was interrupted when JARVIS announced, “Sir, I have a match.”

Tony pointed to his eyes and pointed at Loki in an I’m watching you gesture before he went to his desk to see JARVIS’s results. Images and archived news articles appeared, showing a slightly younger version of the man clean cut and wearing a uniform. After a moment of scanning, Tony’s eyes zeroed in on one image and expanded it. Steve Rogers, wearing a World War II era uniform, had an arm around the man’s shoulders and they were smiling at the camera, caught in the middle of some sort of celebration.

“James Buchanan Barnes?” Tony read aloud. “Uh, that seems doubtful, considering it says right here that he died in 1941.”

“Appearances would argue otherwise.” Tony jumped when Loki spoke right in his ear. Loki reached over him to scroll through the information on the screen. “Clearly he was a friend and contemporary to the Captain eighty years ago, but what is he doing here now and why is he treating Rogers like an enemy?”

“Indeed. JARVIS, put all of this in a new file for me to look at later.” The images obligingly vanished, and Tony turned to face Loki. “What are you planning, Loki?”

“Why so suspicious, Stark? I’m just…curious.” There was that goddamn mysterious smile again and then Loki was gone.

On the other hand, I don’t know if it’s the contract or Loki’s own contrary nature, but there have been a few times where he was really helpful, even if it is in a “careful what you wish for” kind of way.

It’s strange the way your body reacts when you get bad news, even for someone who has gotten more than his fair amount of bad news. When Tony heard the words, “Mr. Stark, this is Officer Weber, with the Hamburg Police. I’m afraid there’s been an accident,” he felt his body go numb and his ears start to ring; his vision seemed to both sharpen and go gray as everything slowed down. Except his heart; that was pounding hard enough to hurt.

Pepper was a business trip to Germany, and had taken Happy to drive her around.

“What happened?” He managed, fumbling for his desk chair and sitting down heavily. “Is everyone ok?”

“Mr. Hogan and Ms. Potts are in the hospital, in stable condition. They were driving to the Hamburg airport when someone clipped their car; Mr. Hogan lost control and they hit a retaining wall.”

A car accident. Tony felt nauseous. “Ok. But, they are-”

“They are fine, sir,” Officer Weber said, sympathy warming his clipped accent. “Ms. Potts wanted me to make sure you were notified.”

“Thank you. Tell her I’ll be there as soon as possible.” Tony was already on his way upstairs when the line went dead, taking the steps two at a time. “Shit,” he muttered to himself. “Pepper has the jet.” He paused for a second and said, “Fuck it, I’ll take a suit,” even though he had gotten Very Stern warnings from many governments about flying it across international borders without proper authorization. But ‘proper authorization’ pretty much meant ‘Only On Avenger’s Business,’ but what was he supposed to do, fly commercial? It would take hours for him to-

“What’s the matter?” Tony jumped when Loki spoke, and that was when he noticed Loki lounging on his couch.

“Pepper and Happy were in an accident. They’re in Germany, and I have to figure out the fastest way to get there without earning myself a military escort on the way.” Tony fisted his hands in his hair, trying to think. Wallet. He needed his wallet and his phone. Clothes? Nah, he could buy clothes, having a suitcase would only slow him down.

Loki sat up, looking mildly concerned. “Are they injured?”

“Well, they’re in the hospital, so they’re injured at least a little.” Tony took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart so he could think. Pepper would not thank him for making a mess for her to clean up later.

He only realized he was pacing when he almost ran into Loki, who was holding a hand out expectantly. “What?” Tony said, staring at the hand and then up at Loki’s face.

“Let me send you to Germany,” Loki said, making a come on gesture with the outstretched hand. “You’ll be there in seconds.”

Tony hesitated for the barest moment, but he could feel Loki’s sincerity so he took his hand and sure enough, he was standing outside Hamburg hospital between one heartbeat and the next. He blew out a relieved breath and resolved to find some way to thank Loki.

It wasn’t until later that he realized that he didn’t have his passport, or a passport stamp, or basically anything to indicate that he was in Germany legally since he had not, in fact, gone through border control at all. Overall though, as Tony waited in the Interior Ministry office, waiting to speak to the head of German Border Control, he had no regrets.

Somewhere I heard that he’s known as the God of Lies, but that just seems like bad PR. He doesn’t lie nearly as much as he likes people to think he does; I don’t think I’ve ever heard him tell an actual lie at all. He doesn’t even cheat at poker (I think).

As Tony’s regular poker group grumbled on their way out the door, Tony leaned his chair back on two legs and studied Loki.

“You know, for someone known as the God of Lies, I don’t think you even bluffed through that whole game,” Tony mused.

“It’s more fun to give people just the right amount of information and let them lie to themselves,” Loki said with satisfaction as he stacked up his poker chips. However much money he may have on Asgard, he had just become a millionaire on Earth in one night. There had been a $250,000 buy-in for this particular game and Tony was the only one besides Loki walking away with any chips, mostly because he had figured out Loki’s game before anyone else. He had even virtuously refrained from trying to cheat through the soul bond, both out of fairness and because the only information coming across Loki Radio had been the emotional equivalent of tuneless humming. “So what do I do with these?”

“Well, I can give you the cash equivalent, unless you want to keep a bunch of plastic chips that have no inherent value. Has there been something you’ve wanted to buy?”

Loki shrugged and toyed with one of the chips, running it between his fingers. “This was entertaining. Is there someplace I can do more of this?”

Tony blinked for a long moment, lost in the mental image of Loki in Vegas or Monte Carlo. “You know what, yes. Yes there is. Gimme a second to change clothes, because I want to see this.”

He is, however, aggravatingly smug and superior. Which I should have known. How in the hell do you deal with that ‘know it all’ attitude, especially when it turns out that he’s right? Is this part of the reason why you guys fight so much?

“This Accord is a farce,�� Loki said, tapping the thick document resting on Tony’s dresser, leaning against the wall as he watched Tony get ready for the meeting on the Sokovia Accords. “You are one of the most powerful men on the planet. You should be dictating the rules, not having them dictated to you.”

“First of all, I didn’t ask your opinion,” Tony said, frowning in concentration as he worked on a complicated knot in his tie. “Second of all, I would expect nothing less from someone who grew up under an absolute monarchy. In a democratic system I’m no more powerful than any other person.”

Loki snorted at that and raised his eyebrow. “Yes, I’m sure your wealth and status count for little,” he said dryly. “At least in Asgard no one suffers from poverty, starvation, or illness. Or is that part of why your political system is superior to mine? Your citizens have the freedom to die of easily preventable causes?”

Tony scowled at Loki in the mirror. “I didn’t say it was perfect. Do you really think you could come in here knowing nothing about humanity and do better?”

“Of course,” Loki said, giving Tony a condescending look. “Humans are like children. You can try to explain to them what is best but they can’t be trusted to actually do it; it is far preferable to trick them into doing what they should be doing anyway.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Yeah, ok. That’s not an option on the table here. And remember, not trying to take over the world was a specific clause in your contract.”

Loki airily waived the comment away. “What are Captain Rogers’ objections then?”

“He believes that the system can’t be trusted to make the right call. But you can't say that you're defending the system and then act like you're above the system. It can't be ‘do as I say not as I do’ because that makes you no better than any garden-variety vigilante.”

Loki shrugged. “If that’s how you feel. It's not as if I need to agree with you. Since I'm not a citizen of Earth, this agreement has no jurisdiction over me.”

Tony turned to look at him suspiciously. “That is an extremely specific comment to add to this conversation. Who have you been talking to?”

Loki smiled and changed the subject. “Are you bringing a suit?”

Tony gestured to himself, straightening his cuffs. “I'm wearing a suit.”

“I would suggest you bring something a little more robust,” Loki said, pushing himself away from the wall. “I get the feeling that there will be bloodshed before this is all over.”

And you know how they say it’s always the quiet ones that surprise you? Here I thought Bruce had a temper. I’ve seen Loki aggravated, impatient, and cross, but there’s only been one time that I’ve seen him really lose his temper. Gotta admit, it was pretty terrifying, even if I wasn’t on the receiving end.

Steve knelt over him, eyes wild, shield raised.

“No! No!” Tony raised his arms to protect his face, flinching as Steve brought the shield down.

Between one moment and the next Loki appeared and caught the shield before it could fall. His eyes flared green, incandescent with rage. He bared his teeth at Steve as the building around them shook, dust raining from the ceiling.

“You would dare,” Loki said dangerously, ripping the shield from Steve’s hands and flinging it across the room. It barely missed Barnes and embedded itself into the wall with a sharp, echoing tone that seemed to echo absurdly long in the concrete bunker. Steve scrambled to his feet and backed away.

“I wasn’t-” Steve ducked and threw himself to the side as the shield came slicing through the air towards him, gouging another gash in the concrete.

Loki took a step forward, lips flat and green light coiling tightly around his hands and arms. He spread his hands and the concrete rippled and shook, throwing Steve off his feet. Barnes staggered towards a fallen pistol and a flick of Loki’s fingers slammed him against the wall and kept him there. Steve climbed to his feet again, fists raised with a look of resolution on his face.

Loki’s eyes narrowed and turned his wrists, facing his palms towards the floor. Steve staggered and fell as Loki’s magic forced him to his knees. “Beg for a forgiveness you do not deserve,” Loki snarled. “And you may die quickly.” Steve let out a groan from behind clenched teeth as he fought against the force holding him down.

“Stop!” Tony sat up with a scrape of metal against concrete. “Loki, don’t,” he said tiredly, letting his head fall back against the concrete column. “Just…send them away.” When Loki nodded and raised his hands Tony added, “Somewhere on Earth. Just not here.”

Loki’s jaw tightened as if to argue but he reluctantly complied; with a gesture Steve vanished, and then Barnes was gone a moment later. When they were alone he knelt at Tony’s side, lips pressed into a thin line as his eyes skimmed over the bruises and blood on Tony’s face. His hands hovered over Tony as if looking for a safe place to touch while the soul bond thrummed with concern and smothered rage.

“I’m ok,” Tony said, knowing even as he said it that he probably sounded far from ok, which was fair, because he really was. “Help me out of this, will you?” Loki nodded and followed Tony’s instructions, fingertips skimming over damaged plates as he set them aside.

Finally Tony was freed from the heavy weight of the armor, which had become suffocating as the systems failed, one by one. He buried his head in his hands and sat back against the cement pillar, breathing in the frigid air, and after a minute, Loki joined him, sitting close enough that their shoulders brushed. As they sat in silence, Tony realized that at some point over the past year, Loki’s presence had become comforting rather than aggravating. He let himself lean against him, borrowing Loki’s strength until he felt steadier. Eventually, he turned his head to catch Loki’s eye and held out a hand. “Let’s go home?”

All in all, I guess what I’m saying is, I understand why you pulled a fast one over on me with regards to the terms of this agreement in order to save his life. And not just because he's family. Tony tapped the pen on the desk for a while, trying to figure out what to say. So come by when you have a chance. We’ll have some mead and catch up.

-Tony S

"Good enough," Tony told the raven as he signed the letter and folded it into thirds. He opened the top drawer to his desk, full of nuts and seeds, and let the raven eat its fill as he taped up the edges of the letter. "Thanks, Ed," he said as the raven took the letter carefully in its beak, flapped its wings a couple of times, and disappeared.

#tony stark #loki #loki x tony #frostiron #tonystarkbingo2018

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littlestvvitch · 7 years

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Home

What if, instead of Civil War ending the way it did, Tony won by reversing the Captain America serum? What if Steve Rogers was just a 5′4″ 90 lbs man again?

A/N: Excessive use of pet names from the 1940s. Bucky and Steve also have Brooklyn accents and no one can take that away from me.

Takes place after the big Stark vs. Rogers battle at the end.

“I’m about one second away from rippin out Stark’s jugular with my fuckin teeth, Pepper, just let me in the god damn room!”

Pepper had been yelled at constantly for the majority of her life, she knew how to handle that. And she’d been screamed at by supersoldiers and supervillians and gods for a good portion of the past decade, she wasn’t even phased by that anymore.

But maybe it was the way Bucky pulled out chunks of his own hair while shouting. Or maybe it was the desperate, broken, tortured look in his eyes. Or maybe it was the metal arm that could crush her skull in mere seconds attached to the unstable man in front of her.

Whichever it was, his hand or his eyes, Pepper was, admittedly, mildly concerned for her wellbeing.

But most importantly, she was petrified for the man laying on the slab right now, and even she knew the only thing that would make him feel better was his Bucky.

“James,” she used her Tony-you-god-damn-fucked-up-again voice to ensure the ex-soldier was listening. He was. “You need to calm down, right now, before you go in there. He’s under duress, you understand that, and he can’t handle anymore stress right now.”

Bucky’s left eye twitched as he gritted out thrown clenched teeth, “Ms. Potts, I am one hundred percent aware of what his heart can and cannot handle; I lived with his murmurin heart and his boa constrictor lungs for nearly all my life. Now let. Me. In.”

Sighing heavily, Pepper stepped aside and opened the lab door for Bucky. Let it be noted Pepper Potts never forgets her manners. Even when faced with a lovesick, mother hen of a deadly assassin.

Bucky’s mind had been every place and no place all at once when he’d been fighting to see Steve, going from “I will decapitate anyone who touches him in seconds” to “Dear God, it’s me, Bucky; let him live and take me instead” in the blink of an eye. But once he actually got into the lab, everything stopped. Nothing else mattered anymore because there, on the cold slab of metal vaguely reminiscent of what happened in Germany, was a little chest weakly but steadily moving up and down. He was alive.

“God Stevie,” Bucky whispered weepily as he grabbed the thin fingered hand, “you can’t just do that to me anymore. I’m gettin old, babydoll, my heart can’t take that kinda shock.” He pressed his lips to the pale bony knuckles as the tears started to fall freely. He’s alive.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts he didn’t notice a pair of blue eyes blinking open slowly next to him.

“You’re gettin sappy in your old age, Buck. Who’da guessed it, huh? Lady killer Barnes cryin over skinny little Steve Rogers’ body? The girls at the bar would have a fit if they could see ya now.”

Steve smiled weakly but meaningfully as Bucky glared halfheartedly. “Are you fuckin kiddin me, Rogers? Everyone in New York City, could’ve guessed this. I can’t count how many times I must’ve cried over your unconscious body, and not just ‘cause my memory’s shit. Hell, Stevie, I had Father Murphy come give you last rites at least three times. He started callin you Lazarus when we saw him on the street. This is something you should be very used to wakin up to at this point, you mook.” Bucky’d kept Steve’s hand on his mouth the whole time, comforted by the feeling of it against his lips, even if it was colder than it probably should’ve been. Steve’d always ran cold.

They didn’t say much after that, just sat there staring at each other, basking in the miracle that was the other’s life.

“Alright, Cap, you should be awake at this point so it’s time to chat now–oh. Am I interrupting something? Maybe the next plan of attack on my existence?” Playboy, billionaire, genius, philanthropist though he may have been, Tony Stark was not a people person. Clearly.

In a matter of moments, Tony’s head thumped against the wall behind him, the metal hand around his windpipe making breathing just a tad difficult, with the man who killed his dad looking like he wouldn’t mind ending the family tree right then and there.

“Stark. Help him. Or die. But don’t fuckin interrogate him while he’s relearnin’ how to work his god damn lungs. Kapisch?”

Tony nodded his head as much as he could and suddenly he was on the ground with blessed oxygen flooding his (perfectly functional) lungs again. “Fuck, Barnes,” he wheezed, “if I’d known you’d pull that stunt, I would’ve removed the arm when I had a chance. Shit.”

Bucky wasn’t even paying attention to Tony though, he was back at Steve’s side, lightly brushing the hair out of Steve’s face as the pint sized captain look impassively at Tony.

At least someone noticed him.

Steve sighed as heavily as his lungs would let him, and started to heave himself into sitting position, against Bucky’s insistence that he “stay the fuck down Rogers, what the hell?”

He turned his head towards Tony and made direct unbreaking eye contact. “You did this. It’s over. You won. Fix me.”

Bucky looked at him like he was crazy. He felt a little crazy too but that was probably cause he wasn’t getting as much oxygen as his brain was used to.

“Stevie, no, what are you-”

“No Buck. It’s done. I can’t fight anyone like this, in the battle field or the courtroom or, hell, even the playground. He fuckin de-serumed me. I’m not even a “superhero” at this point. I just–Bucky, I just wanna go home.” His voice cracked on “home,” and tears pricked his eyes.

As Bucky pulled Steve’s head to his chest and ran his fingers softly through his hair, Tony noticed for the first time the toll all this had taken on the captain. His eyes had huge, almost blackened, circles under them like he hadn’t slept in years. He moved like he was actually physically 90 years old, rather than the 30 Tony knew him to be. And oddly enough, he was letting someone touch him.

No one touched the captain. Not unless they were punching him or pulling him from the jaws of death (literally). Tony’d always thought he just had a big personal bubble, or maybe people just hadn’t touched back in the 40s. But as he watched the men out of time on that metal table, he knew he’d been wrong.

“Hey, lovebirds. I–I was wrong about you. The world was wrong about you. It’s…not always men like you the world needs protection from; it’s men like me and Dr. Banner and Alex Pierce. I know that. But I firmly believe we have to give up some of our freedom, and I know you hate that Cap trust me I do, but we need to do so in order to gain protection from the government. That’s the way it’s always been and that’s the way it’s going to stay.

I can’t fix you, Cap, I don’t have enough of the notes to recreate the serum perfectly; I only had the basics and that was enough to break it down. I can’t build it back up again. But I can offer you some killer health insurance and a great letter of recommendation to an art school if you want?”

Steve didn’t even lift his head or open his eyes, he just nodded slightly against Bucky’s chest. The same Bucky who was still glaring at Tony murderously.

“Stark. Ya need to stab him a few more times and run some more tests, or can we go now?”

“Somehow Barnes, I don’t think that was a question.”

Bucky gently moved Steve so he could carry him bridal style out the door. “You’re damn right it wasn’t a question. And Stark?”

Tony raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t fucking come near us again.”

The door rattled on its hinges as Bucky kicked the door shut behind him. Shit.

“Jarvis?”

“Yes, sir?”

Tony took a shaky breath before sliding to the floor. “G-get Pepper, please?”

“She’s already on her way, sir.”

He closed his eyes as his head thumped against the wall. “Thanks, buddy.”

Shit.

“Buck, you can put me down, I’m tiny but not an invalid yet.”

“Keyword there, baby, is ‘yet.’ I’m not takin any chances right now. You’re goin to a doctor first thing tomorrow, we’re gonna get you an inhaler, we’re gonna pinpoint all your allergies, we’re gonna see what we can do about the scoliosis, and do you need braces? We can get you braces now, if you want.”

“Hey,” Steve said sharply, “Bucky. It’s okay. I’m gonna be okay this time; stop worrying about my possible health issues and start worrying about how much a new closet of clothes is gonna cost ‘cause I fit in jack-shit right now.”

“I dunno, babydoll, you’d probably look really great in one of my shirts around now, don’t ya think?”

Those baby blues glowed. “Nah Buck, that shirt would look its best on the floor next to our bed, huh?”

Steve was nearly dumped out of Bucky’s arms from how hard they started cackling. Tears were streaming down Bucky’s face and his shoulders were shaking so hard he finally had to put Steve down, just so he could lean on him. Not that that helped much, as Steve was nearly doubled over from laughter anyway, and down the street like that they went, laughing and stumbling over themselves like it was St. Patty’s day 1941 all over again.

Bucky nearly tripped over Steve as he opened the door to their apartment, causing them to laugh even louder, their hyena like screams echoing off the grossly bare walls.

“Home, sweet, home! Glad we made it back in one piece, eh Stevie?” Bucky choked out as he made his way to the kitchen.

“Aw, I dunno baby, I’m pretty sure home’s just wherever you are.” The shattering of glass made Steve jump and sprint as fast as his shitty lungs would let him.

“Bucky? Are you alright? What-”

“God, doll, you can’t just say those things willy nilly, you’ll kill me.”

When Steve looked up from the mess of shards on the floor, he audibly gasped. He hadn’t been looked at with so much emotion since…since the night before Bucky shipped out.

Steve didn’t know what to do anymore. ‘Cause they weren’t actually together right? That…that’d all been a joke…right?

“Buck…?”

“Yeah, doll?”

Steve licked his lips and tried to ignore the way his heart soared when Bucky called him “doll” and “baby”; that’s just what they did. They’d always been like that. Right?

“You uhhh, you okay? You just kinda had a stroke there. Wanted to be sure you hadn’t died on me yet. No one else laughs at my jokes, ya know?” His attempts at alleviating the tension were failing miserably, it was honestly pitiful at this point. Thank god Natasha wasn’t there to witness this butcher.

Bucky bit his lip and pulled his shoulders in as his metal fingers ran nervously through his hair. “Uh, so ya know how I don’t remember a lot of stuff, most stuff, from the war?”

Steve nodded, a little confused with the topic change, but not complaining. War was less awkward than….whatever that had been.

“Well what I do remember–we’d just been taken as prisoners and were being transported in these covered trucks ya know? And the boys and I, we were just chattin, tryin to keep the morale up and shit. And we started talkin about home, where it was, what it looked like, what it smelled like, just something positive to look forward to if we made it out. So this guy talks about, I dunno, somewhere in Montana, and this other guy talks about some French food or whatever, that parts a little hazy still.”

Bucky straightened his shoulders and looked Steve dead in the eyes, as if he was afraid Steve would run away if he couldn’t see him. He took a deep breath.

“But I remember…God, Stevie, they got to me and I didn’t talk about our shitty apartment, I didn’t mention Ma or Becca or Coney Island or anything from the old neighborhood; I talked about you.

I talked about how I knew someone with the brightest blue eyes, with too much fight in ‘em, with a heart four sizes too big for their own good, with shit ass lungs and even shittier ideas.

I rambled on about how bad a dance you were, how I missed when you’d step on my toes even though I was leadin. I missed watchin you sketch on the fire escape, I missed the crappy coffee you’d make me on my odd days off, I ached for the feeling of your body in my arms.

I talked until we’d made it to the Hydra base, Stevie. I talked for hours, just about you, before I even noticed that I hadn’t been talking about places or foods, I’d been talkin about you.

And right before they dragged us out of those trucks, I remember someone sayin that if I ever made it back stateside again, I had to ask you to marry me. I hadn’t even mentioned how we, we weren’t together.”

He sniffed a bit and shook his head quickly before continuing.

“I fucked up back then, doll, I know that now. And I wasn’t gonna do anything now ‘cause I thought you didn’t need me like you did before. But after what just happened out there, I don’t fuckin care whether you need me or not ‘cause, baby, I need you.

Big or small, Captain America or struggling art student, I need you. All of you.

You’re the one thing that brought me back, you’re my home. And you can say no, and–and I’ll leave ya alone, I promise, baby, but…I just wanted to tell you.

So now you know. I’ve kinda loved you forever, Steve Rogers. Umm…yeah. I’ll uh. I’ll just go. Now.”

Bucky wasn’t even looking at Steve anymore, he was just trying to make it to the door without falling the fuck over in pain. So of course he didn’t notice the tears falling down Steve’s face, or the way his eyes shone with hope, but he definitely knew when Steve reached out and yanked Bucky back with all the force he could muster.

He jumped up on his tip toes and placed his hands on either side of Bucky’s face, pulling him down to his level.

“Listen up, you stupid fuckin piece of shit. I have loved you since the moment I met you. You are my entire god damn world; when I thought you’d died back in the war, I tried to kill myself by crashing a plane into the Arctic.

There is no point living in a world where you don’t exist. So you are gonna stay right here until the day we die because this? Sure as fuck ain’t the end of the line.”

And with that, Steve pushed up hard on his toes, crashing his lips into Bucky’s.

Captain America was dead, the Winter Soldier was dead, and yet so were the Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes from the 1940s. It was their turn to figure out who they were, but there was one thing they were both sure of: they were going to take on their new lives together.

They were free.

No.

They were home.

#stevebucky #stucky #post cacw #marvel universe #writings #happy ending

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