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Mjölnir was in the middle of the fucking living room on the Tower's common floor. Again.
Tony found this out when he tried to get more coffee and tripped over it—again. Steve had once testily observed that Thor tended to treat his hammer like other people treated their cell phones or loose change, and Tony completely agreed with him. More than likely the God of Blond Jokes had found his favorite teeny scientist and just dropped Mew-Mew on the floor and then forgot about her. Rude.
Once he was finally able to stop swearing and limping in a circle, Tony stood flexing his abused toes and contemplating the hammer and what, exactly, he should do about her other than trying to pick her up. He'd been present both times Winter Thaw had proven that all you needed to woo Thor's BFF of weaponry was good intentions and a lot of external distraction; but while right now Tony was reasonably distracted with exhaustion, he was pretty damn focused on his smashed piggies. And, well, he'd tried before and hadn't been able to lift her. And then Ultron happened, which was entirely his fault.
So, yeah. Maybe not the best night to retry that whole 'worthiness' thing.
"J.A.R.V.I.S.," Tony said on a very long breath, "please tell me that our favorite defrosted cyborg is awake and available to move Thor's lady hammer, so I don’t have to interrupt Thor and Jane's reunion sex."
"Sergeant Barnes is on the balcony, sir. I believe he is awake."
"Balcony?" Tony turned around and stared at the sliding glass doors. They were closed, which was only surprising because he knew it'd be damn cold without any heat from the building. Hell, it wasn't warm outside even in the middle of summer, this high up. Tony was pretty sure it'd be freezing out there at—huh—1:40 am on a fall morning.
Of course, it was way more surprising that Bucky would be out there at all, let alone at 1:40 am. Bucky hated the cold. Hated it so much he made Steve's rabid aversion to it look like a mild lack of interest. Bucky would happily wear a parka in a steam room, but he couldn't stand in front of the open refrigerator for more than ten seconds at a time without getting all pinched and miserable.
(Not that Tony had noticed, or anything. Or built a fridge from scratch for the common floor's kitchen that had a screen detailing the contents and location, so someone—like Bucky, just as a pure, random example—didn't have to open the door for longer than it took to grab what he wanted.
Well, Tony had built the fridge. But he would've totally done that anyway. It was convenient.)
"Seriously? Bucky's on the balcony? Is he all right? Should you get Steve? Why the hell didn't you say anything?" Tony demanded, but he was already opening the doors and ignored J.A.R.V.I.S.' answer anyway. He was relieved and more than a little shocked when the doors actually opened, since he'd expected them to be locked from the outside. Generally when the Buck stopped and went to ground, it wasn't where anyone could get to him.
"Hey, Southclaw, what the hell are you doing out here?" Tony said as soon as he poked his head through the gap he'd made. The outside floods weren't on and Tony hadn't turned the lights on inside either, but that hardly made a difference when they were up high enough to catch light pollution from nearly the entire city. And of course Bucky had Super Soldier vision, which meant it was probably as bright as daylight out there for him.
It wasn't quite that bright out for Tony, but he could see okay, between the ambient glow of everywhere and how he'd been wandering around in the dark before Mjölnir had broken his foot. So he could tell that Bucky was sitting in the corner where the railing met the building, cross-legged and hunched and of course in the ridiculous moose hoodie plus a quilt around his shoulders. It was the quilt Tony had ordered with vintage Howling Commandos and SSR symbols all over it—score—but the overall effect of Bucky sitting alone and all bundled up like that was just tragic. And adorable. But mostly tragic.
"You look incredibly tragic out here all by yourself like this. Just saying." Tony decided he wasn't going to have to holler for help or call one of his suits, so he fully committed to stepping out onto the balcony. It was, as he'd surmised, fucking cold. Maybe less so if one was wrapped in an awesome quilt and a ridiculous moose hoodie, but still. Tony tightly folded his arms, wishing he'd had the foresight to grab a hoodie himself—or a quilt—instead of just coming out here in his Sisters of Mercy tee-shirt. "Really, you're like, a lost kitten. A lost kitten with antlers. You do know we can afford light and heat and stuff, right?"
Bucky didn't answer. Didn't look like he'd even moved in fact, despite Tony being purposely about as discrete as a rhino when he opened the door. "Bucky? You're not sleeping sitting up like that, are you? Because that's just terrifying." Tony edged closer, pulled uncomfortably between worry for the young man and for himself. Bucky hadn't gone feral since that Hydra dick had used a trigger phrase on him, and that had only ended badly for the Hydra dick and all his dick friends. Well, and Bucky too, poor kid. Because Hydra were dicks. But that didn't mean something else couldn't've happened. And it was still a long way down. "Bucky-boo? You okay?"
"Go away, Tony," Bucky said finally, just when Tony was opening his mouth to get J.A.R.V.I.S. to list Bucky's vitals.
"Um, no. Sorry. Can't do that," Tony said, relieved that Bucky had both spoken to him and sounded like a human being. "Not when you're behaving like a pod-Bucky." He went closer. "J, can we get some lights out here, please?"
"Ow! Hey! What the hell, Tony?" Bucky squinted painfully while still glaring up at him. "J.A.R.V.I.S., kill the fucking lights." He turned back to whatever he was doing almost immediately though, which was placing all the strange little objects pooled on his blanket-covered lap into the wooden box next to him. So he'd been moving after all, just sneakily. From what Tony could tell, it was all just strange little random tchotchkes. He wondered why he wasn't supposed to see them.
"Belay that, J," Tony said, ignoring Bucky's that-much darker glare. "What's going on, Buckaroo? Why are you out here freezing your ass off in the middle of the night?" He didn't mention the box despite how much he really, really wanted to, because even he could tell when something had 'TOUCHY SENSITIVE ISSUE' all over it. But he didn't get why Bucky would have, among many, many other things, four hotel key cards, a plastic horse, and—a lice comb?—all packed up together like that. Hell, he didn't get why Bucky would have any of those trinkets at all.
"None of your fucking business," Bucky snapped. He snatched up the last object in his lap, this one a big, swirled marble, and tucked it in the box before gently replacing the lid. In the light, it was easy to see the large brown stain on the box's side. Tony had witnessed enough of it to know what old blood looked like.
"All right. Fine, Oscar." Tony raised his hands and retreated to the open doors. "You just stay here and do your Rebel Without a Smaug impression. I've got better things to do. Like get warm."
"Goddam it!" Bucky spat. He hit the floor next to him with his fist, so suddenly and genuinely angry that Tony blinked and backed up another step. "Why the fuck you gotta keep doing that, huh? Saying all that shit I don't get all the time? I know I don't belong here, you don't have to keep fucking rubbing it in!"
"Whoa!" Tony said, genuinely bewildered. "Okay, okay—back up. First of all, you have met me, right? I say shit that nobody gets most of the time. I was just using a couple bullshit references because…" He made a face. "I don't even know why. I just do. 'Oscar' is a grumpy green puppet from a famous kid's show who wants to be alone all the time. Rebel Without a Cause was a movie from the 50s, starring an actor named James Dean who was known for his good looks and brooding. Kind of like you. 'Smaug' is a dragon from a book written by the same guy who wrote The Lord of the Rings. It was a reference to your, um, box. That's all. No big. I'm sorry."
Bucky's mouth twitched like he was thinking of saying something else, but then he just kind of sagged, going back to the miserable, defeated posture he'd been in when Tony had come outside. "Naw, it's all right. I'm just…" He shrugged. "It's fine. I shouldn't've said anything. I'm just not good company right now."
Tony made a dismissive noise. "Like I'm ever good company." He glanced inside the living room, grimacing at all the warm he wasn't being. But at least he got some heat standing in the open doorway. "But, why would you say you don't belong here? Jesus, Bucky—you belong on the Avengers more than I do. Everyone loves you, even Thor's lady hammer. That's why I was looking for you, as a matter of fact. Thor left Mjölnir in the middle of the living room again. I was going to ask you to move it."
Bucky smirked a little, but then just shook his head. He ran the fingers of his right hand over the box lid. "I don't think I'm up to moving Mjölnir tonight."
"I know that feeling," Tony murmured. "What's going on, Bucky? What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Bucky said, in the tone of voice that had never actually meant 'nothing' in the history of ever. "I just had a nightmare. You know how it is."
"Yeah, actually," Tony said, a little rough. He managed to bite back the want to talk about it? because alone on a balcony, duh. "Um. Do you want me to get Steve? Or Natasha?" He tried to think of anyone who might be awake and who Bucky might actually want to talk to. "Clint?"
Bucky shook his head again.
"Okay," Tony sighed. "Will you come inside, at least? I was about to get some coffee, before I nearly broke my foot. But once I've done that I promise I'll bug right out of here and leave you alone. It's just really fucking cold and Steve will kill me—hell, everyone will kill me if they find out I left Mew-Mew's new boyfriend out here to freeze to death. Seriously," Tony went on gamely when that gibe barely got Bucky to twitch his lips, "I'm freezing my balls off. In fact I think one of my balls just broke."
That at least got a tired smirk, and after a moment Bucky nodded and stood up, so Tony counted it as a win. Bucky moved stiffly, and Tony wondered just how long he'd been out there, sitting in the dark and cold.
Bucky shuffled inside ahead of Tony, clutching the quilt around his shoulders in one hand and cradling the box against his chest with the other. Tony stepped in after him, shivering and grateful when J.A.R.V.I.S. closed the doors. He could tell by the slight increase in noise that the A.I. was turning up the heat on the floor as well.
"That's better." Tony rubbed his hands together. "So. Coffee? Or, I know—hot chocolate!"
Bucky actually perked up a little at that—Bucky loved sugar like Tony loved caffeine—and Tony mentally patted himself on the back as he went into the kitchen. "One hot chocolate, one mocha coming up."
"Here." Tony handed the large, very full mug to Bucky about five minutes later. He'd taken the liberty of adding about a foot of whipped cream to the top. The way Bucky lit up and reached for it was just so freaking cute that Tony made a mental note to ask J.A.R.V.I.S. to take a still of Bucky's expression from the security footage and send it to Steve.
"All right, I'll just leave you and your hot chocolate to get acquainted and take my coffee and go back downstairs." Tony gave Bucky a mock-salute, then inwardly face-palmed when he realized he might've accidentally insulted him again. Bucky seemed okay with it though, so Tony didn't apologize. "'Night."
"You can stay," Bucky said, then immediately took a gulp of his drink so he didn't have to look at Tony's face; Tony was very good at that himself, so he knew the tells. "I mean, if you want. I was thinking of watching a movie or something."
"As long as it's not The Matrix. Or Back to the Future. Or anything with dinosaurs, giant robot suits or Windows 95," Tony said as he sat down. "J, what do we have that isn't any of those things?"
"Several million titles, sir," J.A.R.V.I.S. responded with the dry humor that Tony would never not love having programmed into him. "Would you like to browse a particular genre?"
"The one Tony was talking about before, with the dragon," Bucky said. He shrugged a shoulder when Tony looked at him. "Dragons're swell."
Tony blinked, then sighed and flopped against the backrest, figuring sure, what the hell. He'd go for it if it might make the kid happy. "Why not?" He waved a hand negligently. "J., The Hobbit, please."
Bucky looked confused. "The Hobbit? I never read it—there's a dragon in it?"
Tony blinked at him. "You never read it? It came out before the war."
Bucky made his eyes very big. "I wanted to, but we had to use all our books for fuel that winter so Steve didn't have to sell matchsticks again."
"Oh, screw you, Hans Christian Andersen," Tony groused, but he couldn't help grinning when Bucky laughed. "Anyway, yes. The Hobbit book has a dragon in it named Smaug, but he doesn't really show up until the second movie. It's another trilogy. This movie just has the Hobbit guy Bilbo and a bunch of Dwarves. And giant spiders. And Elves. The Elves and three of the Dwarves are kind of hot, though. But there's no dragon. And you really have to watch the first movie to get what's happening in the second one."
"Oh." Bucky sounded disappointed.
"All right. No Hobbits. No problem." Tony thought quickly. "J.A.R.V.I.S., roll How to Train Your Dragon. Wait." The screen froze on the Dreamworks logo. "It's a cartoon. One of the modern ones that uses computers, but it's still a cartoon. In case you care."
Bucky shrugged. "As long as it's got a dragon." He took another big drink of his chocolate.
They sipped their drinks and watched the movie in near-silence. It was fun, even touching in some places, and the animation was good. The central conflict—the Vikings assuming dragons were evil because they didn't understand them—made Tony think of Bruce. But it wasn't until Hiccup was plummeting through the air to his almost certain death that Tony realized he might've made an extremely poor choice of film, given Bucky's apparent headspace.
Bucky seemed…okay, though, when Tony looked at him out of the corner of his eye. Bucky had rewrapped himself in the quilt and was clutching rolled fistfuls of it with both hands, tightly enough that Tony hoped he wasn't going to shred the material. Bucky's eyes were wide, reflecting the light of the screen, and he might've toppled over if he leaned any further forward. But he seemed okay. There weren't any tears in his stormy blue eyes, and he wasn't flushed or pale or screaming. And of course it was a children's movie so Toothless caught his human and everything was all right in the end anyway. Mostly.
Tony couldn't help glancing at Bucky again during the tugged-heartstrings moment when Toothless, with his prosthetic tailfin, was helping Hiccup walk on his prosthetic leg. Of course, there was already Gobber, who had a prosthetic left arm, and Bucky had just grinned at his tool attachments. So, okay.
Bucky finally slumped against the backrest and loosened his death-grip on the quilt as the credits started rolling. They both sat in silence for a moment, listening to the soundtrack as J.A.R.V.I.S. turned the lights back on.
"So," Tony said, because a moment of silence was the most he'd ever been able to manage. "It'll be dawn in like…" He checked his watch. "An hour and a half. That's enough time to watch the sequel, though it's not meant to be as good—"
"If I may interrupt, sir," J.A.R.V.I.S. cut in, "I feel I should point out that not only does the father die in the sequel, but under circumstances that I fear you both might find disturbing."
"Or we don't watch the sequel, never mind," Tony said quickly. "But we could watch another movie if you want."
"No thanks. I should probably go to bed," Bucky said.
"Yeah. Me too, probably," Tony agreed.
Neither of them moved.
"I feel like him, sometimes." Bucky jutted his chin at the screen.
Tony nodded, getting it. "I don't know, you both seem to have done really well with the artificial limbs. I mean, in the epilogue Hiccup's even altered the stirrup so it works better with his leg. That's a lot like how you—"
"I meant the dragon."
Tony blinked. "Toothless?"
"Yeah." Bucky slid his empty mug aside, then moved the box into the same space. He kept his eyes on it. "He has… There're no other dragons like him. Did you notice that? Even when they're all in the volcano, there's only one nightfury."
Tony hadn't noticed, particularly, and he didn't point out how there had to be more of them, or they wouldn't've been in the reference book Hiccup read in the beginning. But, "Yes I did," he lied, because he wanted Bucky to keep talking.
"Yeah. So, I feel like that, sometimes," Bucky said quietly. "Like, I don't belong here. Not the Tower," he added before Tony could open his mouth. "Or, not just the Tower. Everywhere."
"I think we all feel like that, sometimes," Tony said. "When I…got back from Afghanistan, nothing matched up anymore. Everything felt wrong. Like, I was pretending all the time. Going through the motions of being me, but I wasn't. I didn't feel like me again until I had the suit on."
He still felt like that, every so often. Not as much as he used to, but more frequently than he really cared to talk about.
Bucky was nodding while Tony spoke, though he was still looking at the box like he could see right through the wood. "Yeah. Yeah, like that. Like, I'm not really here. It's just somebody else, pretending to be me so no one gets upset."
Tony sucked in a breath, mentally matching up what Bucky just said to what he'd said and trying to figure out if they really were talking about the same thing, or if their deep ends were on opposite sides of the pool and Bucky's was the one you could drown in. "You, uh, seem like yourself. If that means anything." He sat up so he could look at Bucky properly. "How often do you feel like you're pretending?"
Bucky shrugged. "Sometimes."
"Like, right now?"
Another shrug, but there was a nod to go with it.
Tony swallowed. "Do you want me to get Steve?"
Bucky shook his head. "I barely convinced him to go back to sleep after my nightmare."
"I'm sure he feels like he's pretending too, a lot of the time," Tony said, hoping it would help Bucky to hear it. He could still remember Steve's rote, empty smiles before Bucky came back: Like the entire world was a USO show and he was always on stage, acting like the stalwart hero everyone expected while inside he was dying.
"I guess." Bucky flicked the side of the box lid with his metal thumb. The lid tilted and then slid off with a tiny clatter onto the table. Tony could see the marble and a lot of folded paper underneath it. "I dreamed I was the Asset again," he said.
Tony blinked at him. He licked his lips, trying to work out the right thing to say. "I, um, I didn't know you remembered that."
Bucky shrugged again. "I remember pretty much everything. Wish I didn't."
Tony winced. "That fucking sucks. I'm sorry."
Yet another shrug. Tony was pretty sure it was Buckyspeak for 'I don't want to talk about it'. "So, yeah. I dreamed about being the Asset. And, and killing Steve. And knowing it was him. And not giving a fuck."
"Oh my God. That's terrible."
"Yup." Bucky popped the 'P'. He pulled out the stack of folded paper, setting it neatly on the table next to the box. They were letters, Tony realized. Bucky pulled out a bundle of feathers next, and then a few of the marbles and some pamphlets. He seemed to find what he was looking for when he took out a child's necklace of bright plastic beads. He put it around his left wrist, doubling it into a bracelet. "Don't tell him, okay? He thinks I was dreaming about the war. I don't want to upset him."
"I won't tell him." Tony privately thought Bucky should, but it wasn't like he was the poster child for mental health or honest communication. Of all the hundreds of nightmares he'd had since Afghanistan and then New York and then Malibu and then New York again, he could count the number of times he'd shared any with Pepper on one hand.
"Thanks." Bucky was lining up a mismatched set of marbles and sea glass and colored stones. "Steve gave me the box," he said. He'd put a woman's wedding ring on his left pinky, then a much larger ring on his thumb. It looked like the kind that supermarkets put on cupcakes, with a big yellow happy face on it. "I started collecting stuff when I was getting my memories back."
Tony nodded, though he wasn't entirely sure he understood the correlation. Maybe he'd chosen things that reminded him of what he'd forgotten. "Do you…forget…stuff? After a nightmare?"
Bucky shook his head. He put a ratty baseball next to the marbles. "The stuff in here helps me feel real again." He finally lifted his head and looked at Tony. "It's mine, you know? I remember finding it, where it was, where I was… It reminds me that I'm right here, still. So even if I…if I can remember being the Asset, I know I'm not him anymore."
"I'm glad," Tony murmured. He picked up the green earring and carefully hooked it to Bucky's impromptu bracelet. "I build things. Like, when I need to remember I'm still here, and not imprisoned in a cave. Or suffocating in outer space." Or watching Pepper die.
Bucky jiggled the bracelet, smiling faintly at the earring swaying back and forth. He looked at Tony for a moment, then abruptly scooped up the largest marble in the line he'd made and put it on the table in front of him. "Here."
Tony blinked at the marble and then at Bucky. "You're giving me a marble?"
"Yeah. I mean, it's just a marble. You don't have to take it or anything. I just thought…I don't know, it reminds me of you. Kind of."
Tony picked up the marble, wondering if Bucky had known not to hand it to him. It was one of the large ones that were the prizes or something, not that he knew how to play. It was slightly rough-textured, dark blue with an iridescent shimmer that brought up purple highlights here and there. It was surprisingly pretty, and cool in his hand. He knew exactly where in his workshop he could put it—where Dummy couldn't reach it but it could still catch the light. "Thank you," he said sincerely. He grinned. "I like it."
Bucky gave him another slight smile, then carefully pulled the jewelry off his hand and put it away. Tony helped him pack up the rest, then stood, stretching. "All right, Gobber, I'm going to bed."
Bucky smirked. "At least I got that reference. Dumbass." He gathered up the quilt under one arm and the box in the other. "'Night, Tony. And, thanks."
"Anytime." He tossed and re-caught the marble. "Hey, Bucky?"
Bucky was almost at the elevator, but he turned around. "Yeah?"
"I'm glad you're here," Tony said quickly. "We all are. You're a great addition to the team and you're a good friend. And you belong here. I mean, we're all nightfuries." He winced. "Or something. It sounded better in my head."
Bucky laughed, but his smile afterwards was soft and fond. It reminded Tony of how Rhodey sometimes looked at him. "Thanks, Tony."
Tony watched as Bucky went into the elevator and the doors closed, then smiled wryly and shook his head at himself as he carried the mugs to the kitchen. "Right, Tony. We're all a bunch of lonely dragons. Thank God Pepper didn't hear that. Or Natasha, come to think of it. Or Clint, or Bruce. Or—ow! Damn it!" He'd stubbed his toe on Mjölnir again.
Hey, Goober Gobber.
I noticed that your box was getting kind of full so I made you a new one. There's enough room for the wood box to fit inside it if you want plus you can reconfigure it into individual cells or trays or whatever you want in case you want to organize it or anything. Or you can just dump it all in and shut the lid. The lock can be keyed to your fingerprints or a voice or key code or all three so no one can take anything. Not that anyone would but in case we get infiltrated or something. And the box can withstand a nuclear blast, so in the event of an apocalypse you won't lose your marbles. That was a joke, you already lost them. (That was a joke too.)
The music box was a present from my mom when I was four I think. I must've taken it apart and put it back together 1000 times not to mention played it until my dad probably wanted to throw it out the window. Or throw me out the window. Or both of us. It plays Greensleeves in case you don't recognize the music cause it's not swing or Soviet opera or something.
And yes, before you make a big deal out of it I want you to have it. I don't know how much stuff you ever got from your mom that you were able to keep after the war and this is a mom-present. So I want you to have it. Not that I think I'm your mom. You already have Steve. (jk)
Next time you want to freeze your balls off on the balcony just come hang out in my workshop instead. We can be lonely dragons together. Yes I just wrote that.
Tony
Dear Tony Hiccup Fishlegs,
Thank you for the box. Everything fits great and I'm thinking of bringing it the next time we hit a Hydra base. I'll pack it full of marbles first, to make sure it's good and heavy. I'd borrow yours, except you don't have any. (Not a joke.)
Thank you for the music box. I had one like that with the same kind of handle and roller when I was a kid. It played "Take Me Out to the Ball Game". I'd forgotten about it until I saw this one, so thank you for giving me that memory back too.
I promise that the next time I feel like holing up I'll find you instead. Especially if you make more hot chocolate. That was delicious awesome.
Your friend the not-so-lonely dragon,
Bucky
P.S.: Thor was saying something about someone moving his hammer last night. He said he knows he left her upright, and nearer to the kitchen. Was that you?
END
