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Steve had told Bucky a thousand times there was nothing they could have done, nothing he could have said that would have changed anything. Tony was just like that, and Zemo would have a plan B- even a plan C, surely- to tear the team apart. Even Steve couldn't undo any of Bucky's memories. He couldn't bring Tony's parents back, or unsay any of the hurtful exchanges between them.
It didn't matter how any of them felt. Steve was still walking around without a shield, Bucky without an arm, and Tony without a reason to build.
~
Bucky watched the phone buzz on the counter without blinking until it stopped, and then swallowed hard. It was Steve's- left for emergencies. "You need anything, call Sam," he had said. He hadn't prepared him for anyone calling him. Not for Tony calling.
For a moment everything was quiet except rain pattering against the kitchen window. Bucky’s shoulder ached. He took a deep, steadying breath and pushed the pain to the back of his mind.
The buzzing started up again. Why would Tony call Steve now? They hadn't spoken since Siberia, if you could even call it speaking. It had been weeks. Stark's emotions combined with his ego surely wouldn't allow him to make the first call.
Unless it was an emergency-
-so Bucky finally reached for the phone. This was Steve’s friend, after all.
"Steve's not here," he heard himself say. He winced at the thought of Tony hearing his voice without warning.
There was silence on the line for a few seconds before a response came through- Tony's voice now, clear and unphased. "His phone?"
"He leaves it here."
"You at his apartment?"
Bucky quickly weighed whether or not Stark could still be trying to kill him. If Steve came back to the place destroyed from a fight, he’d probably have something overly understanding to say about it, and Bucky really didn’t need that kind of guilt. He opted to dodge the question. “Is something wrong?”
“If you’re here, just let me in.”
Head snapping up to look at the front door through the living room, Bucky didn’t say anything.
“Afraid your silence gave you away, Soldier.” A tap on the door echoed through the phone. “Open up. If I was here to blast you with the suit, d’you think I’d call Cap for permission first?”
He did sound calm- and taunting this way wasn’t unlike him, didn’t seem like the precursor to an attack- but Bucky knew better than to trust that. He hung up the phone.
Steve would deal with this later. He would call him back or drive over to the compound himself. The call wasn’t for Bucky anyway, he couldn’t know what Tony wanted. Couldn’t help.
Hesitantly, Bucky circled the counter and walked into the living room, toward the door. He leaned up to look into the peephole, and squinted to make out Tony's figure standing in the hall.
Bucky backed away from the door, but he knew Stark was more determined than just to leave so easily. If he looked again, he knew he’d find Tony still looking around waiting to be let inside.
Another knock, persistent but controlled. "I get why you're on edge here,” Tony called from beyond the door, “and calming people down is not a strength of mine, but- lucky for you- neither is lying. I’m here to talk."
Glancing back at the phone, Bucky gulped. He should walk outside with Stark, talk with him away from all these breakables, out of this confined space. He’d seen how quickly his mood could change. Steve’s words echoed in his mind, It doesn’t have to end in a fight.
Bucky began to approach the door, careful to stand off to its side. “I’m not who you came to see.”
“I’ll settle, for once, Barnes.”
For reasons he still hadn’t figured out, Bucky opened the door. A wave of shame washed over him as he stood in the doorway, and he winced under Tony’s stare.
“Oh don’t look at me like a kicked puppy.” Tony pushed past Bucky into the apartment. “Drinks- Where are they?”
Words formed in Bucky’s throat but he couldn’t force them up to his mouth. He walked over to the kitchen after Tony instead, and reached up to a cabinet above the sink, opening it to retrieve a bottle.
Tony had already found two glasses and clinked them down on the counter with a few ice cubes in each. He briefly examined the bottle before pouring. “Don’t make it weird. Drink.”
Bucky realized he may have been standing too still as he carefully watched Tony’s hurried movements. He pulled a stool out to sit beside the counter.
“No, no, come on,” Stark started leading the way to the living room. “And grab that,” he gestured at the bottle.
Bucky couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed. He was still confused, so he awkwardly grabbed the bottle under his arm and picked up his glass in the available hand before following Tony to the sofa.
Tony grabbed the bottle when Bucky got closer, and sucked in a breath through pursed lips, realizing he could have used his own two hands to bring the bottle himself. It hadn’t even occurred to Tony that Bucky had been standing in front of him with one arm this entire time, thanks to him no less. He set the bottle on the table with their glasses, as Bucky sat down next to him.
The two of them avoided eye contact for a few seconds before Bucky finally opened his mouth to speak. “You have to know if I could change what I’ve done-”
“Yep, that’s enough,’’ Tony took a long drink.
Bucky picked up his glass and started drinking, too. He didn’t know what else to do. The sound of the rain outside grounded him, but sitting in this tense silence was eating at them both.
“I know why you did it,” Tony finally said, “and I wish that made me despise you less, but I’d probably still kill you if it wouldn’t cost me Rogers, and probably the rest of the team. But, we’ve all been thinking, haven’t we?” He turned his body to face Bucky, pulling one knee up to his chest. His muscles were stiff, but he was fighting to appear relaxed.
Bucky wanted to be sick. He wished he could tell Tony it was okay to hate him; no one could feel more disgust and betrayal for what he had done than himself. This polite facade felt like a blade being sunk into his chest. On some level, Bucky wished Tony would show him the anger he felt, make him feel something for what he had done other than what he could inflict on himself. The guilt and shame of sitting in front of him was a start though, so Bucky just finished the drink and kept his mouth shut.
“That’s actually not the worst part,” Tony continued. “Been trying to distract myself in the shop. Thought if I could build something, get my mind off of- Well, you get it. Distractions, right?” He shrugged. “But that’s a no-go. Know why?”
Bucky could only stare.
Finally, Tony got the words out. “All I can think about is you.” And then, he couldn’t even look Bucky in the face, “All I can build… is you.”
Bucky began poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue. He didn’t know if he was expected to know what that meant, and it seemed Stark had been preparing this for some time, so he figured it was best to let him finish.
“I know what I destroyed was just some Hydra model,” Tony nodded toward Bucky’s shoulder where his t-shirt sleeve hung over, “but beyond that, I really got something- You want something new, don’t you? Somethin' made for good?”
Bucky tensed as Tony reached into his jacket, but watched as he retrieved only a piece of somewhat familiar tech. The small metal box unfolded in the palm of his hand and projected upward a blue-tinted image of several humanoid yet mechanical parts, and some familiar sketches. Upgrades.
Bucky winced away from them. “No more experiments,” he choked out. He recognized the parts of a metal arm in the projection between them.
“No way,” Tony sat down his glass beside Bucky’s on the table. “Not even close. This’ll be perfect before it comes near you.” He sighed, and allowed himself a few moments to stare out the window, storm still showing no signs of letting up. “What I took from you is- It’s eating at me, Barnes. I don’t know why I need to make this right, but let me, okay?”
“You don’t have anything to make- Look, I should be fixing this. You aren’t to blame for any of this. I know you know that.” Bucky ran his hand through his hair. “I should have let Steve answer his own phone.”
“No, hey, I get that this is a lot.” Tony snapped the metal box shut and the projected image disappeared. He dropped the box on the table and picked up his glass instead. “I’m leaving that here. Look at it later. Think about it.” He finished the drink and poured another from the bottle. “Hell, go over it with Steve. He’ll tell you- I’m good for this.”
“It’s not… that.”
“You deserve it. We both fucked up. We hurt people, but what matters is what we do now.” Tony got to his feet, preparing to leave. “ And this is what I want to do.”