Work Text:
Bucky isn’t really sure what he’s gotten himself into here.
He knows he’s still got a lot to work on. Being around people who aren’t Steve makes him nervous- not for his own well-being, but for their safety. When he has those moments where everything goes blank and he’s scrabbling for names and memory, when he can’t bottle up an animal snarl, when his metal hand curls reflexively into a fist, at least Steve can handle it. Steve knows how to back away, and knows how to hold his own if Bucky really can’t gain control of himself.
Tony Stark doesn’t know Bucky like Steve does.
“He’s Iron Man,” Steve had responded when Bucky had expressed reluctance at this idea. “He’s the best of the best when it comes to this sort of repair. And he’s an Avenger. He’ll know what to do.”
“I know how good he is. The whole damn world knows it because he’d never let them forget it for a minute. But he’s never met me.”
“Well then this appointment is overdue." Steve had looked at him and sighed, his lips curving slightly as he sensed that he had won. "You want your arm back, Buck.”
Bucky had agreed. Of course. But still he balks a bit as they step out of the elevator into Stark’s workspace. It’s so expansive, so… posh. Exactly what Bucky has been dreading. This Iron Man just has to let everyone know exactly how cool he is.
There is a muffled thump, and a man appears from behind some fancy looking machinery at the far end of the room. Is it a vehicle? Some kind of circuit board? Bucky enjoys learning about modern technology, but he isn't knowledgeable enough yet to be able to divine the function of every new gadget, especially not of the radical inventions of a man like Tony Stark.
Stark is shorter than Bucky had expected. But then, Bucky supposes, TV spots, the robot suit, and his attitude all contribute to a larger than life image; it makes sense that he doesn't quite measure up physically.
Stark strides toward Steve and Bucky quickly, looking pleased. His walk is almost a swagger. Bucky tenses. Is this man trying to be off-putting?
"Hey there Cap. Hi, Buck-o." His face flashes into an expression of concern that almost feels mocking, to Bucky. "Oh, was that too informal? Can I call you that? Bucko? Great." Bucky hadn't had time to open his mouth. He feels Steve's fingers lightly brush his own, a reminder that this man is the best of the best and everyone kind of has to learn to live with this attitude.
"So Steve tells me you need a little help with that, ah, extraordinary limb of yours? Let's take a look." Stark gestures to a chair a little to his left. It's one of those reclining chairs, a little like something you might find at a dentist's office, but higher-end. Bucky swallows painfully, and Steve grabs his hand for real this time.
Steve clears his throat. "Maybe a bit closer to the window? It's always good to take advantage of natural light, right?"
Stark glances swiftly at the pair of them, but acquiesces gracefully.
"Of course. Right this way, Bucko." Does he have more tact than Bucky had given him credit for?
The chair Bucky settles himself into is closer to an armchair. Not something you would sit in while men in white coats stood over you. He shrugs off his hooded sweatshirt to reveal a white sleeveless undershirt. It's one of Steve's- he figured he should wear something sleeveless but didn't own all that many clothes himself- and it fits him surprisingly well.
Steve stands off to the side as Stark comes to stand over Bucky. He's brought a sort of cart of tools with him, but begins with his bare hands, gently passing over the point where Bucky's flesh meets metal, traveling down the arm to curl and uncurl the currently unresponsive fingers.
"What'd you do, slip on an icy patch and fall on it?" Stark's lips quirk into a smile that Bucky can't help but read as a smirk.
"Something like that, yeah," Bucky mutters uncomfortably.
"All right, well, let's get this thing up and running again, shall we?"
This thing. Really, Bucky has spent so long trying to love this arm, or at least to accept it, to make it feel like part of him. When he'd started remembering things from his old life, it had felt so alien. And now it just stops working like the machine he'd tried so hard to convince himself it wasn't, and Stark calls it a thing. Bucky Barnes is not a thing. The Winter Soldier had oftentimes felt like nothing more than a weapon, but Bucky Barnes is so much more.
He manages to bite his tongue. Shouldn't disturb the best of the best at work, after all.
After a few more minutes of contemplation, Stark grabs several tools from his cart and begins making adjustments. He opens up the panel on the inside of the arm, near Bucky's chest, and Bucky hears him suck in his breath.
"Wow, this is beautiful, absolutely beautiful! The tech must be fairly recent. I mean, they would have replaced the arm every time they could make it better, right? Yeah, this is definitely modern stuff, but wow, this integration system is intelligent. I should be able to just tweak this and- there! Feel something?"
A tingling current knots itself in Bucky's shoulder and suddenly he splays his fingers outward. He bares his teeth in shock, but it's a pleasant sensation.
"Now that is a fascinating prosthetic right there. A true marvel. Not how I would have designed it of course but..." He trails off and then adds offhandedly, "You know what would make this even cooler? Some lights."
He grins at Bucky, who manages something like a grimace back, and then stands up abruptly.
"Thank you Mr. Stark, your work really is appreciated." He hopes his tone isn't too robotic. He walks over to Steve, who flashes him a small smile, almost a grateful one. It says thank you for not losing control.
"You go ahead, Bucky," says Steve. "I've got a quick favor to ask of Tony."
Bucky has no real desire to stay in this room with Stark. He nods and heads over to the elevator. He steps inside and lets the doors close, but then pauses.
What would old Bucky do here? Would he have the integrity to leave the floor? Would he want to stay and watch out for Steve? He's not sure, in all honesty. But now he refrains from pressing the ground floor button, and stands still, listening for the voices beyond the stainless-steel doors.
"Really, Tony, we do appreciate this. It's just-"
"Are you going to scold me for my eccentricities, Cap?"
"You just have no idea what it's like for him, what the arm is like."
"And you do?"
"Better than you, Stark. He's not an object. He doesn't want lights or intercom or a damn entertainment system on his arm. And, you know, he's quiet and all, but don't underestimate his punching abilities."
"Alright, so I probably deserve it. A punch from robo-arm, I mean."
"I'm glad we're all at a consensus."
Steve doesn't seem surprised that Bucky's still standing in the elevator when the doors open. But on the way down, he won't meet Bucky's eyes. It's only when they're walking to the car that he clears his throat expectantly. Bucky hesitates, then grabs his hand and squeezes it.
"Thanks."
Steve says nothing, but smiles.
It is hard for either of them to wait until they are behind the tinted windows of Steve's truck to kiss. And kiss. It is the moments like this that Bucky really lives for. He just feels so human.