Work Text:
Bucky and Tony have suffered quite enough of this mission, and with everything seemingly falling apart around them, Tony is in no place to disagree with Bucky when he drags him into a hotel room paid for by S.H.E.I.L.D., and hunkered down to recuperate before going on the road again to get back to base.
Bucky’s facial hair is getting far too long, and Tony has blood now dripping down his side from where he had been nicked. If he hadn’t been wearing black, the lady at the front desk might have given them a problem, but he practically crawls into the shower watching the blood swirl orange down the drain, bares his teeth through the sting before he applies hydrogen peroxide, and uses gauze to wrap it up.
Bucky is next into the bathroom to shower while Tony pulls on clothes he walks back in to shave keeping up an amicable conversation with Bucky who says it helps to have company when he is under the spray of water, reminds him he’s not with Hydra if an English speaker is present, and a sassy, sleep deprived Tony is the best he is going to get considering all they have is burner phones so they can’t feasibly play music.
“Shit ‘s cold,” Bucky mutters as Tony hears the curtains rattle. He turns his back to Bucky, humming as he hears the man shuffle, the towel wrapped around his hips. Tony can hear the click of the man’s teeth, and he frowns, leaving him to grab his clothes by the time he returns. Bucky is staring blankly at a spot on the floor, a fleck of Tony’s blood left on the white tile.
“Put these on, I’ll clean that.” He instructs, crouching down on one knee, using hydrogen and a rag to wipe away the spot before standing back up, and turning around. Barens stares at him, eyes still icy cold.
“I think you need a shave, soldier, what do you say?”
“Ready to comply.” Tonny snickers, shaking his head as Bucky takes a seat on the lid of the toilet, dressed in a long-sleeved sweater and baggy black sweatpants, he waits patiently for Stark to finish his task of readying the shaving cream, and removing the razor from the bag of toiletries.
Tony turns around, applies shaving cream to his hands, and wipes it over Bucky — Winter’s face, his eyes fluttering for one moment before it’s spine straightens. Tony had long missed the switch-up when he had cleaned the blood.
When Tony turns to grab the razor off the edge of the sink and flips it open, he turns back around to carefully position Bucky’s Winter’s head.
Winter is insanely focused on every move Stark makes; it knows the man. Once a target, now.., what is Stark to the soldier? Stark allows it to do as it pleases, with parameters set in place to ensure it doesn’t hurt anyone. Hell, Stark is often the one around when Winter comes to the front. It doesn't mind the way Stark seems to notice the differences between it and Barnes, and yet treats them both the same.
“I don’t mind you being all quiet, Buckaroo, but can you at least help me out a little here?” Winter snaps to attention, attentive eyes trained on Stark. What does he need help with? Winter wants to comply.
Isn’t that a strange turn of events, Winter wanting to comply? It used to not have a say or a choice, but now.., now it's different. It’s seated on the toilet seat of some dingy bathroom in an old motel that they had taken sanctuary in because they had made it far enough away from the enemy to take a rest before getting back on the road, and back to the compound and it wanted to comply with Stark’s requests because.., because what?
Because he it likes Stark?
Maybe, maybe Stark isn’t just a teammate though.., maybe Stark is something akin to it’s old masters, it’s handlers ..,
Is Tony Stark the Asset's new handler?
“Just tilt your head like.., ah, there we go, very good.” A swirl of satisfaction in Winter’s gut as it follows through with the action Tony has it complete, easily swiveling it’s head so the beard on it’s chin is shaved away eyes closing, fluttering shut it is near blissful, this handler is nice, this handler takes care of the Asset, this handler doesn't treat it like damaged goods like Rogers, or give it pitying looks like the others, this handler—Stark—is attentive, and sassy like he has something to prove just as much as The Winter Soldier does.
The scrape of the metal over the planes of it’s skin is dull; it feels numb, staring at it’s handler.
Having emotions is still bizarre, it is still learning to name every single one it has but Stark doesn't need it to name them, he is fine with Winter being silent, he is fine with Winter leaning into his touch, and keeping him safe because Stark knows Winter, and Bucky don’t do it because they think Stark can’t defend himself they do it because Tony is something to be treasured.
His eyes were like precious, rare stones, ones often looked over because people often prefer things— like Winter’s blue eyes —or the little marks spattered across his skin, moles.., Winter would like to know every single one of them, and Winter’s new handler had pretty lips, maybe it should tell him?
Tony is holding Barnes’s face at just the right angle, scraping the beard and foam away with his razor, getting rid of coarse hair, and leaving behind stubble, and as Tony finishes, he swipes his thumb over Bucky’s lip by accident.
“You with me, Buckaroo?” Sharp blue eyes blink up at him, and there is a rumble of a hum from his throat. Eyes blinking away the icy swirls, there is a click of something murkier. Bucky . This is when Tony realizes this entire time he’s been talking to Winter.
“Bucky?”
“Hey, doll.”
“Are you okay? Shit that was Winter, I was talking to Winter, and I didn’t notice this time.”
“Th’ shift’s subtle sweet thin’, most people don’ even notice.”
“But I notice.”
“Never denied it,” Bucky smirks, letting his head forward to rest against Stark’s stomach. He closes his eyes, the ache in his head receding at the lack of light.
“He dinks you’re our handler.”
“Handler?” Tony says he seems stricken and scared that he’s hurt Bucky in some way, like he’s re-evaluated every interaction they have had and is comparing it to Hydra.
“Yeah, he likes ya, likes takein’ orders from ya ‘cause he trusts you.”
“Damn, I’m in a world of danger aren’t I?”
“Not if we have a say in it.”