Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“We’ve got a runner, Cap.” Tony watches through the HUD as one of the creatures breaks away from the melee surrounding the portal. It has its long, spindly arms tucked around something. Tony is already following it around a corner and up a side street when Steve’s reply comes through the comms.

“He’s all yours, Iron Man. We’re a little pinned down here.”

Tony grunts an acknowledgement and puts on a burst of speed. He pulls up and shoots a quick repulsor blast at one of the creature’s legs. It lets out a high scream and slams into the adjacent building. The object, some sort of ornate box, goes flying and hits the pavement with a bang.

Tony blinks. The ones the others are fighting hadn’t seemed to be such pushovers. Tony’s about to mock the other Avengers when his target surges into him, leaping the short distance into the air and tackling him out of his hover. They hit the side of a building with a crunch that Tony feels all the way up his back. His ears ring.

“Dr. Roscoe, please come to Isolation Room 12. Dr. Roscoe, to Isolation Room 12.”

“What?” Tony shakes his head, then has to duck to avoid the claw rapidly approaching his helmet. “What the hell?”

“Tony?” Bucky asks. “What is it?”

Tony aims both repulsors at the thing’s – face? Yeah, that’s probably a face – and it goes down in a spew of dark blue fluid. Ugh. “Just a glitch, Bucky-boo.” Must have picked up something from a nearby hospital. Tony makes a note to run extra diagnostics on the communication systems when they get back to the tower. He listens for a moment to the team’s chatter.

“Widow, on your – ” Steve starts. The distinctive pop-sizzle of Natasha’s bites comes through perfectly clear, followed by Steve’s sigh and her deep chuckles.

In the meantime –

“Runner’s down, Cap,” he reports. The box is lying a few feet away, tipped awkwardly against the curb. Tony asks JARVIS to take a look. Data spools across the HUD, and as far as JARVIS’s scans are concerned, it’s a pretty ordinary box. No radiation or airborne chemical traces near the object. Tony shrugs, and goes to pick it up.

White sparks crackle in the air just before Tony’s gauntleted hands make contact with the object and lightning arcs straight up his arms. He screams, heat and light overwhelming him enough that he slams into the building again before he even registers that he’s been thrown into the air. He groans, letting his head roll back into the brick.

“Mr. Stark! Tony, can you hear me?”

The voice is unfamiliar, but not harsh. Tony presses himself back into the corner, preparing to use the walls to drag himself up again but it’s – it’s not right. He’s not in an alleyway, pressed against dirty brickwork in the suit. He looks at the person – doctor – taking a seat in front of him. The room is grey and so is the simple clothing he’s been dressed in.

“What is this?” Tony asks, and his voice is hoarse, nearly cracking on the simple question.

“Do you know where you are, Mr. Stark?”

Tony blinks, hard, but the surroundings don’t change. How did they get him out of the suit?

“Mr. Stark?”

“New York.”

“No, Mr. Stark, you’re in a mental facility in Los Angeles. You haven’t left this building in six years.”

Tony shakes his head. He does his best to look around surreptitiously. A low cot is the only furniture in the room. Behind the person pretending to be a doctor is a heavy door with a high window set into it. He massages his temples, briefly closing his eyes against a building headache.

“Tony!” Bucky skids to a stop in front of him, running both hands over the suit to check for damage. Tony squints against the sudden daylight when Bucky releases the faceplate. He can hear the sound of gunfire before Natasha’s brusque voice calls, “Clear.” Tony sees her at the mouth of the alley. He looks back at Bucky – there’s a scrape on his cheek but he otherwise looks wonderful, as per usual.

“I’ve got Iron Man, seems dazed but those big brown eyes are tracking normally.” Tony rolls said eyes and reaches out to let his fiancé pull him to his feet.

The doctor’s hand clasps his and the man beams at him. Tony is pulled to his feet and led across the plain room towards the door, shock robbing him of any thought of resistance. The doctor raps his knuckles twice against the door and it opens from the outside.

“Look who’s here.”

There’s a man standing in the hallway. He’s quite thin and though he’s leaning on a cane, his posture is still upright and proud. His hair is much whiter and a little thinner than Tony remembers, but there’s no mistaking him.

“Tony,” Edwin Jarvis says with a small smile. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Chapter Text

“Jarvis?”

Jarvis blinks back tears, and his voice is shaky. “You’re really here, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know what’s going on.”

The doctor gestures Jarvis inside, “This is the most lucid he has been in years – Mr. Jarvis, please keep talking to him.”

Jarvis comes through the doorway and reaches out to touch Tony’s shoulder. Tony flinches, then back-steps all the way across the room. He doesn’t know how whoever is messing with him has managed to conjure such a perfect rendition of Jarvis, but he does know he isn’t strong enough to feel Jarvis’ touch right now. He misses the man too much to allow himself to pretend, even for a moment, that this is possible. He feels his eyes watering, and the tears spill over when Jarvis looks gutted.

“Tony, please stay, dear.”

Tony closes his eyes and shakes his head.

“Tony?” Natasha looks worried, standing at his side. Bucky has his hand under Tony’s arm, as if he’s afraid Tony may fall.

“Let’s get him back to the Quinjet.”

“I’m alright.” Tony rasps.

“Uh huh. And you’ll be alright in the Quinjet, too.” Bucky tugs at Tony’s elbow, and leads him out of the alley.

Tony glances over his shoulder and sees Natasha scoop up the artifact. He starts to shout a warning, but she’s already got her arms around it before he can find his breath and – she seems completely unaffected by the object. “Wha – ” he starts to ask.

Bucky gently squeezes his arm. “You can tinker with it after medical, Sweetheart.”

They troop onto the Quinjet and Tony detaches from Bucky to slump out of the armor. The ramp has barely sealed up when he blurts out, “It zapped me.” He twists his hands together, takes a deep breath, and looks around the Quinjet. Clint’s turned around in the pilot’s seat and everyone else is watching him from various perches. Steve has some of the blue fluid smeared down the front of his uniform.

“JARVIS, vitals?” Bucky asks, immediately.

“Sir’s respiration and heart rate are normal.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Yes, thank you, mother hens. I’m fine. But, uh.” He pauses, not meeting Bucky’s eyes. “Uh, it sent me – somewhere else.”

Natasha sits up, eyes narrowing. “Code word?”

Tony smiles, “Piña colada.”

Natasha nods and relaxes.

“Do I want to know why your secret ‘I’m not compromised’ phrase is a beverage you can’t stand?” Bucky frowns.

“No.” That’s actually a funny story, Tony will have to tell Bucky sometime, but right now, he can’t afford to get sidetracked or his resolve to tell them what happened will fail. Tony sighs. “I was in an institution. Doctor in a white jacket, padded walls, the whole shebang.”

“You don’t have to talk about it here, Tony – ” Bucky starts, but Tony cuts him off with a gesture.

“I’m okay, sweetheart.” He wouldn’t have been, a year ago, sharing this, sharing anything but he’s not stupid enough to deny how much he trusts all of them.

Bucky gives him a soft smile and comes over to the bench to sit at Tony’s side.

“He told me none of this was real.”

“What?” Steve looks offended.

“Why, because of the aliens? Or the time travel? Or the fact that you’re engaged to a cyborg? Or the – ack!” Clint breaks off when Natasha throws one of her gloves in his face.

“I know I’m just inviting the nutjob Tony Stark jokes, but,” Tony licks his lips, trying to work through a suddenly dry throat. “It felt real. Jarvis was there. The human Jarvis.”

Steve twitches, like he’s going to reach out to Tony but stops himself. “Right, back to the tower. I’m sure you and Bruce are gonna need some time with that,” he jerks his head over to the box, sitting innocently in the corner, “before SHIELD gets involved.”

Clint spins around to flip at the controls, and Tony lets out a deep breath when Bucky’s fingers thread themselves through his own. Bucky leans over to press a kiss to Tony’s temple and Tony flinches as a sharp shock of pain goes through his head. White flashes across his vision and he squeezes his eyes shut.

“Tony?” Someone asks – it’s Bucky’s soft rumble and it’s Jarvis’s gentle coaxing – both so familiar. Tony opens his eyes to a non-descript office, the doctor from before sitting opposite a large desk. Tony turns his head, and it’s Jarvis. His hand is stretched out and resting on the arm of the chair that Tony is curled into, knees drawn up, but he’s carefully not touching Tony himself.

“Did you hear that, Tony? Dr. Roscoe thinks there may be a way forward.”

The doctor frowns and stands. He steps around the desk and leans against the front, body tilted towards Jarvis. “Mr. Jarvis, we really must proceed with caution. The severity of Mr. Stark’s multi-layered delusions – ” he sighs, glancing at Tony before returning his focus to Jarvis. “ – for seven years, his mind has been trapped. He believes he’s some sort of superhero.”

Jarvis coughs. “Iron Man. Yes, I know.”

The doctor nods. “Iron Man, yes. But that’s only the first layer. He has created an entire altered world to support his primary delusion. In that world, he is central to the fate of the very universe. He has surrounded himself with allies, friends, with their own superpowers, and these others – ”

“The Avengers,” Tony whispers.

Jarvis frowns, worry pulling at the pinched corners of his mouth.

“They are real to him; more so than you or me, Mr. Jarvis. The challenges that Mr. Stark has faced with them – the bond his mind has forged, may be too strong for us to overcome. Each time we think we have found a treatment, the stakes are raised – gods and aliens and death itself – and his dependence on The Avengers deepens.”

Tony jolts upright. “Gods! How did I miss – ”

“Tony?”

Tony laughs, a slippery, breathless thing, “Loki. This is exactly Loki’s style. Making me think I’m losing my mind.” He tries to stand.

The doctor is there, pushing at his shoulders. “Mr. Stark, please calm down.”

“Tony! I’m here, my dear, you’re with your family.”

Tony gasps. How many years has he been missing those words in that voice? Quiet but firm, with a slight quiver at the end. Advanced as JARVIS is, Tony could never capture the voice of the man who raised him. He smiles, tears coming to his eyes. If only Bucky could see this, meet Jarvis.

The thought hits him bodily, and the tears slip out before Tony can choke them back. He looks around, wildly, for his fiancé, though if what Dr. Roscoe is saying is true – Bucky isn’t – he’s not – “Bucky?”

Jarvis looks to the doctor. “That’s his – ” Jarvis looks back at Tony. “special someone, right?”

Special someone. As if everything that Bucky is, his trials and his triumphs and the love that shines out, brighter than sunlight, brighter than the arc reactor when he smiles at Tony could be reduced to two words.

“Yes. A super soldier from World War II. Mr. Stark inserted him into the delusion to accommodate the need for a deeper bond. But it’s not easy to create someone who fits with someone like Iron Man.”

“What do you mean?” Jarvis asks.

“The complexity of the delusion means that Mr. Stark cannot just meet someone at a coffee shop. His mind knows, on some level, that it is broken. And instead of directing the desire to heal towards ending the delusion, he conjured a torture victim, with a prosthetic arm that only he is smart enough to build and fix. He knows he needs to fix something and his mind generated yet another outlet for it, rather than letting it work on itself.”

“No,” Tony denies, but his denial comes out on a whimper.

“Tony, dear heart, you have to listen to the doctor. It’s important, what he’s saying.”

“Mr. Stark. Tony. There are no gods, no monsters. There’s only you, and whether or not you will finally allow us to help you get better.”

Chapter Text

Tony feels the couch dip when Bucky sits down beside him. His fiancé is quiet; Tony lets it settle around them. On the screen in front of them, grainy footage plays on a loop: Jarvis, ostensibly watering the garden with a spray hose, tries not to laugh as a skinny, disheveled six-year-old Tony sneaks towards him. At the last moment, the giggling boy gets a soaking and Jarvis loses his battle to contain his laughter.

Tony lets the sound roll over him again, just once more. “Mute, J.”

“The box is in your workshop and Strange will be here in a half hour.”

“Thanks, Bucky. JARVIS, start the normal battery of scans, will you?”

“Of course, sir.”

Tony drops his head to the back of the couch and stares at the ceiling. It’s quiet in the penthouse. Tony knows he should think of something to say. Or get to work on the box. Or – do anything.

He closes his eyes. “What if it is too good to be true?” he whispers to the ceiling.

Bucky shifts beside him. “What is?”

“All of this. I save the world on a regular basis? Me? Captain America is one of my best friends?” Tony scoffs. He rolls his head to the side to look at his fiancé. “I always worry that you’re too good to be true.” It should sound flippant or flirty; that would be safer. Instead Tony’s voice is quiet, a little defeated.

Wrong. Tony’s just – what if he’s just the one who’s wrong?

Bucky presses a kiss to his shoulder, another to his temple. “I could tell you all the reasons I disagree, baby, but I don’t think you’re in the mood to hear ‘em.”

Tony bites his lip and stares over Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky frowns and coaxes his lip out of his teeth with a gentle tug. He kisses Tony, soft and fleeting. He nudges Tony until they’re both sitting up straight and takes Tony’s face in his hands. “Tony, you’re not in an institution.”

“I was, though,” Tony admits.

“What?”

“It was a rehab facility, but it was a bit, um, strict? I guess you could say. It wasn’t that far removed from what I’ve been seeing.”

Tony tries to look away, but Bucky ducks his head to follow Tony’s eyes. “What are you sayin, baby?”

“What if I’m still there? What if I never left?”

“Huh.” Bucky frowns, looks away, and then starts laughing. Tony pulls back.

“Sorry! Sorry, I’m sorry, love!” He reaches out to gather Tony’s hands in his, stopping Tony from backing further away. “It’s just – ” his smile goes rueful. “It’s just funny that I’m suddenly the one convincing you what’s real.”

Tony frowns.

“Strange-funny, not funny-funny.” Bucky clears his throat. “Speaking of Strange, I think we should go meet him. We’ll all feel better when this thing is sorted, yeah?”

He stands, keeping Tony’s hands in his. He bends to place a kiss on Tony’s cheek. “Trust me, please, Tony? You’re really here, with me. And I’m gonna do whatever I have to in order to keep it that way, got it?”

Tony lets himself tip forward, resting his face against Bucky’s stomach. “Bucky,” he sighs.

“Tony,” Jarvis says.

Tony blinks over at the recording. “JARVIS? I thought I muted the video.”

“You don’t have a fiancé, sweetheart,” Jarvis says.

Tony sits up. He isn’t with Bucky, he’s on the floor in the room at the institution again. Jarvis is crouched down to meet his eyes, cane splayed out beside him. Tony sucks in a sharp breath. “Bucky?”

“No, my dear. The doctor wants you to verbalize the truth, to help cement your mind here, in reality. Say it, Tony. You don’t have a fiancé.”

Tony feels tears sting at the back of his eyes. “I don’t – ” The words burn in his throat, like a betrayal, but he can’t deny Jarvis’s hopeful smile. “I don’t have a fiancé?”

“There you go,” Jarvis whispers. He wipes a tear from Tony’s cheek. “I would very much like to be able to take you home, Tony, take care of you.”

Tony reaches out to touch Jarvis’s face and startles back when his fingers meets Bucky’s stubbled jaw. Bucky isn’t smiling anymore.

“Bucky! Bucky, I didn’t mean – ” Tony swallows against more tears. “Oh, shit.”

Quicker than Tony can process, Bucky sweeps him up into a crushing hug. Tony whimpers, clutching him back. He hides his face in Bucky’s neck for a long moment.

“I will do whatever I have to, understand, Tony? They can’t have you. You’re mine,” Bucky vows.

Tony nods. He doesn’t trust himself to answer.

Bucky pulls back, just far enough to whisper into Tony’s lips, “Don’t you give up on me, Tony Stark. Still gotta marry the hell outta ya.”

Tony makes a sound, something like a sob or a laugh or both, and Bucky swallows it in a deep kiss.

He breaks away a minute later and Tony makes a noise of protest. Bucky laughs, “C’mon, Tony, let’s go see the wizard and get this sorted and behind us.”

Tony heaves a put-upon sigh and lets Bucky tug him towards the elevator. He spends the ride down cuddling into the crook of Bucky’s neck.

Strange and Steve are waiting at the entrance to the lab when the elevator doors open. Tony wiggles his fingers at the Sorcerer Supreme in greeting but manages to bite back his instinctual snark. The man is here to help Tony not go crazy, after all.

Strange only rolls his eyes a little. It’s one of their better encounters, so far. They make their way across the lab to where the box has been set up on an empty table. It looks harmless.

Strange squints at it, swooping around the table to look at all sides. He holds his hands out over it and they glow faintly purple. “It’s a trap.”

Steve snorts behind him. Bucky manages not to make a sound, but Tony can see the mirth threatening to spill over as he bites his lip. The Avengers had gone through a phase where they all quoted Star Wars, especially Admiral Ackbar, at every opportunity – and his nerd of a fiancé had definitely started it. Tony doesn’t bother hiding his laugh.

That earns him the full eye-roll. “Considering you’re the one who tripped it, Stark…” He gingerly touches the side, like someone checking if a pot is still hot.

Strange looks at Tony and gestures with his other hand. “May I?”

Tony glances at Bucky and back to the wizard. “Sure thing, WeirdMD.”

“It’s a fairly standard detection spell, nothing to worry about.” This time, when Strange moves his hand, the purple extends from his fingers to circle Tony’s head before it turns an ominous grey. Tony scowls from within his own personal storm cloud. He hates magic.

“You see, it’s linked to Stark now. It won’t harm anyone else to have contact. Although,” Strange frowns as the cloud gets darker, “I think the proximity is having a negative effect.”

Steve crosses his arms over his chest. “What do we need to do to stop it?”

“He should leave, it will continue to drain his essence while he’s so close.” Strange shrugs, “And then I will destroy it. It should sever the connection.”

Tony feels a surge of panic at the thought of destroying the box. It’s strong, and so unexpected that he stumbles with the force of it. “No!” he chokes out.

“Tony?” Bucky reaches for him, but Tony twists away, getting between Dr. Strange and the box.

“Stark!” Strange puts his hands out as well, his cloak fluttering in agitation.

“What if we’re wrong? It’s – ” Tony looks back at the box. It’s pretty and somehow, he knows it’s important. He has to understand. He can’t let Strange just blast it. “I’m going to get to the bottom of this myself.”

He grabs the box, and there’s a flash so bright he can’t see for a long moment. It’s quiet, Tony doesn’t hear anything over the pounding of his heart for a long moment before he hears Bucky say, “Tony?”

“Bucky,” Tony whispers. “I’m okay, sweetheart, I just – ”

Tony opens his eyes to drab grey walls.

Chapter Text

“Heya, buddy!” It’s Bucky’s voice, Tony would know that voice anywhere, in any situation, but it’s not right, in here. It’s light, and a little condescending.

Tony turns and sees his fiancé pushing a cart into the grey room with the cot. He’s wearing scrubs and his hair is tucked under a cap, but Tony can tell it’s much shorter than it should be. “Who – ” Tony clears his suddenly dry throat. “Who are you?”

“Oh, I’m Jamie,” the man announces – smiling an indulgent smile. “You forget sometimes, but that’s okay. Dr. Roscoe says you’re doing much better, Tony, I’m so proud of you!”

Tony’s stomach turns over. Jamie looks exactly like Bucky. Tony has spent hours staring into those eyes, tracing the lines of that throat with his fingers and lips, but at the same time he doesn’t look anything like Bucky. There’s only passing interest in the man’s eyes when he looks at Tony, none of the warmth that Tony must have been taking for granted, because he can feel its absence like a blow to the gut.

The man holds out a paper cup with a few pills in the bottom. Tony openly gawks at the man’s two perfect, unscarred, flesh and blood hands.

Jamie frowns. “Tony, you still need to take ‘em.” He shakes the pills a little and the light glints off the gold band on his left hand.

Tony feels something snap in his chest – like a small, dry twig – and he feels hot shame and resignation fill him. “Oh.”

You knew it was too good to be true. You knew you didn’t actually deserve Bucky.

Tony has to clear his throat twice before he can ask the nurse, “You’re married?”

Jamie smiles a blinding, genuinely happy smile, the smile that Tony recognizes from when he’d accepted Bucky’s proposal. “Yep! Just about six weeks now. That’s why I was out for a while.”

“Oh,” Tony whispers.

“She was so beautiful,” Jamie muses, eyes a little distant.

“Definitely,” Dr. Roscoe chimes in. He claps a friendly hand on Jamie’s shoulder as he walks into the room.

Jamie laughs and turns away from Tony with a wave. “See you tomorrow, buddy!”

He pushes his cart back into the hallway and then he’s gone, leaving Tony without a backwards glance. Because Tony is no one, just another patient. His chest hurts. Tony looks at Dr. Roscoe, who is watching him intently.

“What is it, Mr. Stark?”

“I don’t know if I can go back there again,” Tony admits. His eyes go wide.

He wants to. He knows, down to his bones, that the only thing that is going to make this pain go away is being back in Bucky’s arms. But, as good a liar as he is, Tony Stark never really believes his own bullshit. He might make it back there again, but he’s seen it, now. Tony obviously latched onto his gorgeous nurse, incorporating the man into his delusion in the most embarrassing way possible.

Honestly, how did he ever convince himself that that was reality? Occam’s razor. There really isn’t a simpler explanation for a world filled with superheroes that regularly defy the laws of thermodynamics than Tony’s own mental deterioration.

Tears prick at his eyes and he feels his face flush hot.

The doctor puts a gentle hand on Tony’s shoulder. “I’m so glad to hear you say that, Mr. Stark. It’s a remarkable breakthrough, but it’s not gonna be easy. We’ll have to take it one step at a time.” He gently nudges Tony back to sit on the cot and takes a seat beside him. “You’ve been clinging to the delusion for many years now, but I think it has become less stable over time. The Avengers keep growing, facing ever more impossible foes, correct?”

Tony nods. His body feels heavy and cold, the doctor’s words washing over him like a freezing rain.

“But something changed, didn’t it, Mr. Stark? You’ve been here, truly lucid, the past few days. What was it?”

“There was, uh, a battle.” Tony winces at the thought of describing the aliens out loud. He makes himself continue, “There was a box, a fancy thing, and when I touched it, I came here.”

Dr. Roscoe nods, like that makes any kind of sense. “Mr. Stark,” he smiles, “Tony. I thought there might be something. When a delusion is no longer sustainable, the mind – your mind – constructs something tangible to represent a link back to reality. You should think of it not as a box, but as an escape hatch. You need to allow yourself to use it.”

“They wanted to destroy it,” Tony remembers. “The Avengers.”

“The delusions will fight to keep you there. If you escape that reality, they will cease to exist.”

“But they don’t exist now.”

Dr. Roscoe beams. “Yes, precisely. Well done!”

Tony frowns. “So, all I have to do is open the box?” He couldn’t quite bring himself to believe that it would be that simple.

The doctor nudges Tony’s hand, rattling the pills in their paper cup. “Why don’t you take those and get some rest? Next time you find yourself in that other place, you’ll know what you need to do. And once you’re better, we can call Mr. Jarvis to take you home. Won’t you like that?”

Tony lets himself picture it, walking out of this room, back into a life before he became a superhero. He could be a normal person again. No more nightmares, no more contusions, hairline fractures, or stitches, no more running himself ragged to keep up with the demands of both his company and the team.

No more Bucky.

Tony’s breath stops, but he forces it out in a slow exhale. Bucky doesn’t exist. He thinks of the nurse’s happy smile at the mention of his wife. He doesn’t belong to Tony.

“Sure, yeah.” Tony’s voice wobbles. “Let’s get my Pandora on.”

He swallows the pills dry and settles on the cot. Dr. Roscoe nods and pats Tony’s shoulder again. “Sleep well, Mr. Stark.”

Tony closes his eyes. He keeps them shut as he hears the doctor leave and the door click behind him. He refuses to open them as other sounds creep in, murmurs becoming voices. The voices resolve into words, the words into a worried argument between Strange and Steve.

Tony keeps his eyes closed when he feels Bucky’s hand in his hair, the distinctive lumps pressing into his side that mean he is curled up on the couch in the workshop.

“ – cannot be allowed to open it,” Strange says, the deep timber of his voice rolling through the lab.

“Yes, you’ve said,” Steve replies. “You haven’t said what happens if he does.”

There’s a very heavy pause before Bucky sucks in a sharp breath. The hand in Tony’s hair tightens. “And are you willing to bet your own life that destroying it is safe? Because it will come to that if you are wrong.” Bucky’s voice is cold, every inch the Winter Soldier as he threatens the Sorcerer Supreme on Tony’s behalf.

Strange doesn’t answer and Bucky scoffs at him. He goes back to petting Tony’s hair. “What do you think, Doll?”

Tony presses his head against Bucky’s hand, shamelessly enjoying the petting. “I think we’re not destroying anything without a proper investigation.”

Strange puffs up. “I have conducted a proper investigation.”

Tony hauls himself up to sitting, but before he can come out with a comeback, Steve cuts over them. “Will it hurt anyone if it isn’t opened?”

“It is not emitting any signal that I can detect, Captain,” JARVIS answers. “I do not believe there is a physical danger to further investigation, provided we limit ourselves to tests with stand-off from the object.”

“Doctor?” Steve asks, all voice of reason.

Strange tosses his hands up and growls, “Fine, do as you wish. Iron Man’s life is hanging in the balance. Hardly of consequence.”

Tony coos. “Careful there, Crunchwrap, it almost sounds like you’d miss me.”

Strange huffs out some denials and a few more warnings before he finally heads to the elevator. Steve walks him out, throwing a speaking glance back at Bucky.

Bucky shoos him off before turning to Tony. “You know how I feel about you sciencing on an empty stomach.”

Tony feels his throat go tight. He fights against the sudden welling of tears. “You take such good care of me, Bucky.”

Bucky leans forward to gently knock their heads together. “For the rest of my days.”

Tony breathes, just for a moment, letting the familiar smell of Bucky’s skin soothe him. He wipes at his eyes as he sits back. “Grilled cheese?”

Bucky looks at him with narrowed eyes. “You sure you don’t want me to stay? Steve could – ”

“Don’t make me eat something Steve makes,” Tony interrupts. “I thought you loved me.”

Bucky smiles. “I sure do, darlin.”

Steve walks back to the couch. “Go on, Buck. I’ll keep the madness to a minimum.” He jostles Tony’s shoulder.

Bucky squeezes Tony’s hand one more time before he heads out of the lab. Tony watches him go, trying not to look like a man watching his life walk away, conscious of Steve’s gaze on the side of his face.

Chapter Text

“Okay,” Tony whispers. Time to go.

Steve quirks an eyebrow at him. “It’ll be fine, Shellhead.”

Tony nods. He spins back to his desk and pulls up a terminal. His fingers fly over the holographic keyboard and he quickly forces away a pang of loss – for his easy interface, for JARVIS himself –

The locks activate with a subtle click and the windows darken.

“Tony?”

Tony types a final string of command code to JARVIS. His fingers hover, shaking, over the keys. “I’m sorry, Steve.”

He taps the final command.

The armor flies across the lab and tackles a shocked Captain America to the ground. Steve cries out, but immediately rolls away. He pops back to his feet and lashes out with a kick, trying to get some space from the grappling armor.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Steve’s breathless, a twirling bit of color as he evades the armor among the tables in the lab. Tony is caught for a moment, watching them move, but he makes himself turn away. He doesn’t have time. He programmed the armor to contain Steve; he doesn’t want his friend hurt, but the longer this goes on the more likely that either Steve will slip up or manage to stop Tony. He walks over to the box.

“I’m going to open it. It’s the only way I can get better.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Tony. You’ve been hallucinating.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Do you even hear how contradictory you sound?”

“Tony, please.”

“You’re right about the second part, though. You, Iron Man,” he sweeps his arms across the workshop in all its glory, “the Avengers. You’re a trap for my mind.”

Steve stills, lets himself be caught by Iron Man. He ignores the way the armor restrains his arms to turn pleading eyes on Tony. “Tony, look at me. That other place you’re seeing isn’t real. I’m real! I’m your friend, yeah? I need you to step away from there. I need you to leave that alone and let me go, okay?”

Tony tuts. “Not your best work, Cap. What’s more real? A sad little rich boy who pickled his brain with drugs and alcohol or some kind of superhero who fights aliens and saves the world alongside the comic book hero he desperately worshipped as a kid?”

“I’m sorry, it’s the best I can do while trying not to panic over what Bucky is gonna do to me, or to himself, if you get to that thing on my watch.”

The emotion rises hot in his throat at the mention of his fiancé. “What kind of man invents a relationship with his parents’ murderer if not a very sick one?”

“The best kind,” Bucky says. His voice cuts right into Tony’s chest. He’s standing in the doorway, which should have been impossible given the lockdown he’d initiated. Tony shakes his head, he can work out what he missed later.

Or, not. He has to open the box. Tony takes a step backwards and stumbles over something on the floor. Bucky reaches out towards him, but stops when Tony flinches. “It’s okay, baby. I have trouble believing you’re real a lot of the time, too.” His voice is gentle, but it quivers at the edges the way it does when Bucky is nearly overwhelmed.

“Stop.” Tony shakes his head again. He puts his hands on the box.

The scream tears itself out of his throat before he even registers the pain. He’s being torn in half – the sensation is centered in his chest and it hurts in a way that he hasn’t since a cave in Afghanistan.

A firm hand grips his wrist. Tony turns his head and sees Jarvis. The old man is close, staring into Tony’s face. Tony blinks tears from his eyes. The workshop and the hospital room are overlaid on one another, blurring at the edges.

He doesn’t know where he is.

“Tony, dear, it’s time to come home,” Jarvis says.

“Open the box, Mr. Stark,” Dr. Roscoe orders.

“NO!” Bucky growls. He moves, too fast for Tony to see, and then he’s at Tony’s side. He winds a firm arm around Tony’s waist and pulls him close.

Some of the pain lessens in Tony’s chest at the contact and he gasps a grateful breath. It’s snatched away again a moment later when Bucky tries to remove Tony’s hands from the box and white hot agony erupts in Tony’s palms. He screams again.

Bucky drops Tony’s hands like he’s the one who’s been burned, but he doesn’t move away. Fortunately for Tony, since his legs buckle a moment later. Bucky’s support is all that keeps him from ending up in a pile of pain on the floor.

The room blurs further.

Bucky’s frantic voice breaks through the haze in Tony’s head. “Tony! Tony, you have to let go of it. Come on, sweetheart. It’s hurting you! Let go, please!” His arms tremble, Tony can feel him shaking all over where they are pressed together.

“You’re too late.”

It’s Dr. Roscoe, but his voice is rougher that Tony has ever heard it. He stares as the man starts to grow. His skin shades into a dark blue and muscles ripple under the surface of his skin like the Hulk’s taller, alien cousin.

The thing he becomes is recognizable as one of the aliens from the battle in the way that a both a mastiff and a bichon frise are recognizably dogs, but one is rather more intimidating if it were to suddenly show up in your house.

“Holy fucking hell!” Bucky yells.

Tony nearly laughs with the relief. Bucky can see this thing! Tony isn’t crazy!

The alien hits them with a backhand that sends them both flying. The box clatters away as Tony slams into the wall. Pain explodes in his head. Beside him, Bucky curses and lunges back to his feet, knife in hand.

Tony whines and fights hard not to gag with the pain.

“TONY!” Steve bellows.

Tony doesn’t know what’s happening, he can’t seem to get his eyes to open, but the fear in Steve’s voice has Tony summoning the armor with a weak gesture. Iron Man closes around him, but he quickly retracts the helmet when the HUD makes his stomach roll again.

He lolls against the wall, noticing that Steve has joined the fight now that Iron Man isn’t restraining him. Steve grabs a large, heavy bit of piping and swings it at the alien, diverting its attention from Bucky’s flurry of punches. They are tag-teaming the monstrosity with their usual deadly grace, but the thing is powerful, and they don’t have their usual weapons.

Tony manages to fire off a repulsor blast, but it glances off the alien without any noticeable effect.

Even that much effort sets his head spinning, and it’s all he can do to keep his eyes open as the alien lands a brutal hit to Bucky’s right side. His fiancé hits the ground, hard, but Steve is there before Dr. Roscoe can deal a final blow.

Tony’s vision blurs with tears. He has to do something.

The box.

He can’t stand, but he manages to crawl over to where the thing is sitting, toppled on its side. He reaches out for it.

Jarvis takes his hands. “Come back, Tony. Let go of this place.”

Tony looks at him, the kindness in his eyes. He sees the weight of years of long-suffering care, the softness of old skin. He remembers the wicked sense of humor the man would hide behind British propriety. “I really love you, Jarvis.”

“I know, dear boy. Let’s go home.”

Tony’s chest is tight.

Jarvis tugs gently at his hands.

Tony closes his eyes and leans forward.

Bucky screams. It’s primal, filled with terror and pain, and Tony hears the crunching of bone. He can’t look – he has to –

Tony looks back.

Bucky is hunched over, his leg is clearly broken and he’s bleeding on the floor. Steve shouts and dives between the monster and his best friend.

Bucky looks up and sees Tony. Tony can see him whisper his name. His eyes are more scared than Tony can ever remember seeing them.

The last of his resolve, already shaken by the appearance of the violent alien, floats away. He’s not going to be responsible for Bucky looking like that. Even if this Bucky is truly all in his head, Tony isn’t going to do that to him.

He loves him too much.

Tony squeezes the hands in his, gently. “I have to go. Goodbye, Jarvis.”

“No, Tony, please!”

Tony backs away from Jarvis, until the workshop comes fully into focus again. He raises his hands and fires a tightly focused repulsor blast at the box.

Unlike the alien itself, the box proves vulnerable to repulsors and promptly shatters into a half dozen pieces, which begin smoking gently.

A screech echoes through the lab, and Tony turns just in time to see the alien collapse into a heap and start smoking as well. Steve prods it with his pipe, but it doesn’t stir.

Despite his leg, Bucky vaults over the carcass and slams into Tony. Tony throws his hands back to cushion them, but they still end up in a heap on the floor. Bucky’s trembling against him, pressing frantic kisses to Tony’s face.

“Please don’t die. Please, Tony. Don’t do that to me.”

Tony’s shaking, too, but he manages to twist his wrists and release the armor. He pushes out of it and Bucky scoops him up into a crushing hug. He turns them so that Bucky is sitting against the wall, injured leg stretched out, with Tony gathered securely to his side.

“I won’t,” Tony promises, breathlessly. Nonsensically. He can’t promise Bucky that, but at the moment he doesn’t care. “I won’t. I’m here, Bucky, I’m staying. I chose you. I’m sorry.”

They trade hard kisses, promises and apologies there on the floor, until a sharp BANG has them jerking apart. Bucky has his knife up and they look around wildly for a moment until Steve hits the box again, the pipe making another loud noise and a good sized dent in one of the box fragments.

“Don’t mind me, fellas,” Steve says, winking at them before taking another swing.

Tony smiles and buries his head in the crook of Bucky’s neck. He’s going to have to clean up the mess. And go to medical. And probably let Strange know that he was right. But all those unpleasant tasks can wait just a little longer. He looks up to press another kiss to Bucky’s lips. Bucky tightens his hold around Tony even further.

Tony’s exactly where he’s supposed to be.