Work Text:
Worth Melting For
Bucky had lost Tony. He wasn’t entirely sure how, but he could guess. One moment he’d felt Tony pressed up against his back, staying behind him like Bucky had told him to, and the next he’d heard a yelp and when Bucky had turned, he’d been gone, and several of the Base Dwellers were quickly fleeing down the mountain.
Of course, the only correct response to that was to plow through the rest of the enemy, screaming his rage.
“Great, look what you’ve done,” Steve spat, putting his hands on his hips. “Now they’re all dead. How are we supposed to interrogate dead enemies. And you call me an idiot.”
Bucky rubbed the back of his head, wincing. “I couldn’t help it. They stole my mate!”
“Well now they can’t tell us where they’re taking him, idiot!” Steve snapped. “This is why Tony’s always telling you to control your temper!”
“I couldn’t help it!” Bucky snarled back at him again, and Steve readied himself to block the swing he was going to throw at him.
“Boys!” a raven barked from her perch, giving them both quite the evil eye.
“He started it,” they both mumbled.
The raven somehow managed to give them an even bitchier stare. “Well, I’m finishing it.” She fell from the branch she was perched on and landed on two human feet in the snow, the flowing cape of black and red feathers she was wearing fastened at her throat. “You know the Base Dwellers hate your kind,” she said, glaring at them. It was somehow more terrifying than the beady stare of her bird form. “Time is of the essence to rescue Tony before they do something awful to him.”
“But why?” Steve asked. “Tony is the same kind as the Base Dwellers. ‘S why I was so mean to him in the beginning.”
“Besides, he knows how to make weapons, and they love that shit,” Bucky added.
Natasha closed her eyes and took a slow, deep breath, then opened them again just to give them another glare. “Bucky, Tony is your mate, and the Base Dwellers hate Yeti-Folk,” she explained with more patience than she thought they deserved. “Tony may physically be human, but he’s bonded to you , one of the higher ranking of your clan. He’s been making noises about asking the Red Witch for her blessing, proving his loyalty to you and yours. They see what you are too used to to notice: He has made his allegiance to the Yeti-Folk clear, so he will also be their enemy.”
Steve and Bucky fidgeted. They hadn’t thought of it like that. Bucky nudged one of the Base Dwellers with his foot sadly. Tony was gone and in danger and he had no idea what to do.
“Idiots,” Natasha hissed, rolling her eyes, and grabbed one of the Base Dwellers, breathing momentary life back into him. “Where did you take Tony?” she asked him when he blinked his eyes open.
“Who?” the Base Dweller asked, and then, “Fuck off, I’m not helping you guys,” and then Steve picked him up and threw him off the cliff, watching coldly as the Base Dweller screamed until his body crashed into the rocks below and Natasha’s life-breath burst out of him.
Natasha turned to give Steve a venomous look.
“Oops,” Steve said, unrepentant, and Bucky nudged shoulders with him in solidarity under Natasha’s glare.
Eventually one of the Base Dwellers mentioned a sacrifice to the gods for a respite from the longer winters that had grown common over the last dozen years. The Yeti-Folk had heard of this, but usually they sacrificed like… mountain goats or something.
“We figured a yeti would be more likely to catch the gods’ attention, especially a high ranking one,” the Base Dweller smirked. “But I suppose a human dirtied by you would be the next best thing.”
Steve and Bucky let out angry roars, and the Base Dweller’s smirk twisted into a terrified grimace as Natasha moved aside for the two Yeti-Folk to pounce on him, life-breath leaving him in a scream as they tore at him with their claws.
“I know where they make their sacrificial pyres,” Natasha said when they turned to look at her, and then leapt from the ground to twist herself back into her raven form.
“I’ll go get the rest of the clan,” Steve said, clapping Bucky on the shoulder. “But time is of the essence. Go with Natasha. We’ll follow your scent.”
Bucky nodded grimly and turned to follow her down the mountain, deciding that he’d finally agree with Tony and go with him to the Red Witch for her blessing when he found him; if Tony was Blessed, Bucky could ostensibly keep him in their cave where it was safe during the duration, and then Tony would be so distracted by their whelp that he couldn’t get up to trouble. His mate got into so much trouble when he wasn’t looking.
.-.-.-.
The pyre was still smoking when Bucky arrived.
“No,” he whispered, voice cracking, and then shouted, “No!” He circled the smoldering pyre for a moment, then lunged forward, digging his claws into the detritus and pulling some of it back out to spread across the ground beside him. “Tony, no!”
“Bucky, stop, you’re hurting yourself!” Natasha cried as he ripped more smoldering wood out onto the ground. “Bucky, you’ll melt!”
Water was already dripping from his horns, but he didn’t care. If Tony was here, he had to find him, and if he wasn’t — well, then he would like to lie down and die with his mate like a proper Yeti-Folk. His job was to protect his weaker mate, and he’d failed. He’d deserve to melt.
The rest of the clan arrived just when he’d found his mate’s obsidian dagger, and Sam and Steve rushed to keep him from burying himself in the cooling embers.
“You know Tony wouldn’t want this,” Sam snarled as they pulled him away.
“Tony isn’t here to want anything,” Bucky said miserably.
Steve grabbed him by the scruff and shook him with a snarl. “So avenge him like a good mate before you decide to lie down and die!”
Bucky swallowed thickly and looked up at him, frowning. “But Tony is gone. What’s the point?”
Sam opened his mouth to repeat that Tony wouldn’t have wanted him to give up, but backed off immediately when Steve let out an angry rumble, the horns curling around his head like a crown crackling and growing over with ice with his rage. None of them, even Natasha and Tony, who weren’t Yeti-Folk, had ever been stupid enough to stand up to their clan leader when he was filled with righteous fury like this.
“Tony is dead,” Steve snarled. “Tony is dead because the Base Dwellers wanted to sacrifice a yeti. Tony would have never stood for that, for letting them think they could take one of our family and murder them with no consequences, letting them think they could get away with it again if they needed to. You are shaming your mate by not protecting your clan. You of all people should understand that.”
Bucky flinched, belly curdling with anger and dismay. He still remembered the screams of his family as they were torn away from each other in an avalanche caused by Base Dwellers hoping to hunt them after they’d been separated from each other. It was how he’d lost his arm, after all, before Steve and his ragtag clan had found him and nursed him back to health. “I don’t want to shame my mate,” he whispered, because he’d failed his family once already. Twice, now, with Tony.
“Then help us avenge our fallen clanmate,” Steve ordered. “And show these Base Dwellers that we will not sit idly by while they kidnap and torture our people.”
Bucky nodded grimly, heart hardening. The Yeti-Folk had only ever wanted to live in peace up on the mountain, in areas that the Base Dwellers couldn’t even safely inhabit —had frozen to death several times when they’d tried. And the Base Dwellers, jealous and angry, had decided that instead of leaving them be, they’d hunt them, because if they couldn’t have the mountains, no one else could.
“Tony would want you to have this,” he told Natasha softly, handing her the obsidian dagger.
Natasha took it with both hands grimly, wordlessly promising that she would give it back once they were done and Bucky’s hurt wasn’t so sharp. It was the only physical reminder of Tony that was solely his, besides the furs back at Bucky’s den that Tony would never again wear, or the braided necklace with red gemstones he’d been hiding from Tony to give him when he finally agreed they were ready to have whelps.
He should have told Tony yes when he’d asked, Bucky lamented, instead of waiting so he could teach Tony all the things his family had done beforehand. Then he would have been safe in the caves with the other whelping Yeti-Folk when the Base Dwellers had attacked.
His family’s traditions didn’t seem so important now, when he didn’t have a mate to share in them anymore.
.-.-.-.
The Base Dwellers had been waiting for them. Steve had expected that, and had told them all to shift into their more beastly forms, so the layers of fat and fur could protect them from the Base Dwellers’ weapons.
Natasha was still left using Tony’s obsidian dagger to cut their flesh so she could pull the arrows they’d been struck with during the battle out.
“You know the Base Dwellers will just be angrier for this, right?” she asked.
“Let them be angry,” Bucky replied morosely. “What do I have to live for anymore?”
“Your kind can mate more than once. You don’t have to die just because Tony did. You know he’d hate that,” Natasha said.
Bucky tilted his head so that she could cut an arrow from one of his shoulders without one of his large, floppy ears getting in the way. “Mm,” he finally acknowledged when she prodded him with one clawed finger. It was true. His kind did mate more than once.
But Tony had loved him so fiercely, so selflessly, and Bucky had known that he wouldn’t necessarily find a love like that again. Tony had ruined him, and he wasn’t even sorry about it. He’d go on living because Tony would have wanted him to, and he might try loving someone because he knew Tony would never want to leave him alone, but he knew deep in his bones that it would never work, because he’d always be comparing them to Tony.
.-.-.-.
The walk home was long. The others kept brushing by him as they moved to the fore or fell to the back of the group, and Sam even gripped his shoulder as he passed a couple of times. Bucky appreciated it. It would only be a matter of time before they made it home and then he’d be left alone in his den. They’d probably try to convince him to stay with one of them to keep him from being alone. Bucky could appreciate that they wanted to help, but mostly he really did just want to be alone, so he could sit in his den in peace and soak in the scent of Tony before it faded.
He’d miss Tony’s scent. It was delicate compared to the Yeti-Folk’s, soft and warm, like the hint of wildflowers on the wind blowing up from the valley in the Spring. Tony had blushed so nicely when Bucky had told him so. Bucky secretly thought that was one of the best things about humans, their red blood that could make them flush from the tops of their heads all the way down their chests. Whenever Bucky blushed, the only place it was really visible was his ears, the thin skin showing off the extra blue color. Tony had delighted in it, taken his ears between his fingers and rubbed over the velvety soft fur on the outside of them.
He’d miss Tony so much.
.-.-.-.
There were sopping wet furs on the floor of his den.
Bucky stared at them, uncomprehending. Why were there wet floors in his den? Who would come in without permission? Who would leave things a mess that he had to clean up when he was already mourning?
Who would dare come in and disturb his dead mate’s scent before he could get one last whiff of it?
Bucky growled, immediately furious, then threw his head back and let out a roar that echoed around the cave, horns crackling with ice and claws sharpening. He swiped the wet furs aside and roared again, then whipped around when he heard a whimper, vision tunneling when he saw that the furs that served as their bed were shivering.
Someone had crawled into his dead mate’s bed and was ruining where his scent was most intimate.
Bucky let out another rage-filled bellow and stormed toward the furs, ripping them away from whatever interloper dared, lifting one hand so he could immediately drive his claws into them.
“C-Cold,” Tony whimpered, curling in on himself. “Buc-cky, it’s s-so cold…!”
Bucky felt as if the air had been punched out of him. He retracted his claws as much as he could and dropped his suddenly-shaking hand, reaching down to touch, to see if he was real. His hand dwarfed Tony’s body, fingers curling over his side, around his back and stomach.
“Tony,” Bucky whispered, and then, “Doll,” and then, “Oh, love .” He curled his hands into fists and dropped on top of Tony immediately. “Come here, love, I’ll warm you up—” Tony dug his hands into Bucky’s fur until he touched his warmer skin greedily, twisting his feet around to press between the yeti’s thighs. Bucky curled his arms around him, under him, pulling him closer. “I thought you were gone,” he whispered, pressing his nose against the top of Tony’s head. “I thought they’d taken you.”
“F-fell,” Tony whimpered. “Slipped of-f-ff the s-side—”
“Oh, love,” Bucky moaned, horrified, and pulled him closer, pressing kisses to his head wherever he could reach. He should have known that if Tony was taken, he wouldn’t have just yelped in surprise, would have screamed blue murder until Bucky could come and find him. “I’m so sorry. I should have realized, I—”
“Buck,” Tony whimpered, and managed to look up at him with watery eyes. “I’m s-sorry.”
Bucky tipped his head just enough to cover his mouth in a kiss, letting out a sad sound at how cold Tony’s lips felt against his own. “What could you possibly be sorry for, love?” he asked when Tony mewled another apology. “What is it?”
“I s-scared you because I w-wasn’t look-k-king,” Tony said, looking miserable. “And I f-f-fell down the m-mountain.”
Bucky pulled him close again, pressing Tony’s face into his shoulder. “No, doll, you don’t have to be sorry for that. It was an accident.”
“S-scared you,” Tony mumbled into his fur.
“I would rather be scared like that a million times than actually suffer losing you,” Bucky promised into his hair, holding him tighter. He rubbed his face over Tony’s hair, leaving his scent on him and taking in Tony’s. “I thought I’d never smell you again.”
Tony giggled, a small thing, but it was music to his ears. “That’s weird-d,” he whispered shyly.
“Is not,” Bucky retorted. He leaned back again to look down at Tony’s face, frowning a little as he imagined Tony curled up against a cliff edge down below, disoriented and cold and wet and yet somehow managing to crawl his way back up to the main path only to find everyone gone, only the bodies of their enemy to greet him.
And he had no idea that it had only been Steve shaming him that had kept Bucky from throwing himself to his death as well. Had no idea how close he’d been to not having Bucky come home.
“B-Buck,” Tony whined, tugging at his fur, and Bucky obediently hunkered down on top of him again.
“I’m here,” Bucky promised, deciding that he could tell him what an idiot he’d been without him later, when he was warm and thriving, and pressed his face into Tony’s hair again. “I’m here.”
“Bucky,” Tony murmured again, curling up under his chin.
Bucky sighed, finally relaxing. He had Tony right where he belonged, curled up in his arms. His mate was slowly warming up, shivers fading, skin slowly returning to lively pink. He’d shift back to his more human form later to fix Tony some food and get him into some dry clothes, maybe even take the time to go tell Steve that Tony wasn’t actually dead. Or maybe he wouldn’t, because he knew the rest of the clan would be clambering to see him for themselves; he wanted to keep Tony to himself for a little longer, and he figured they’d eventually forgive him for it, after watching him attempt to melt himself before Sam and Steve physically put a stop to it.
For now, he just curled up on top of his mate, purring softly as Tony curled his toes into his fur. He would not waste this second chance.