Chapter Text
After a rather uncomfortable encounter with the Dora Milaje, Tony was finally led to the medical center where Barnes was being kept. And after some persuasion, and a very throughout body search for any weapons – Steve had been right, they wouldn’t just let him put Barnes out of his misery – the doctors left him alone – as alone as he could get with all the cameras and the glass walls –with Barnes.
The first thing Tony noticed – because he would have to be blind not to, since it was in the center of the room – was the Snow White vertical coffin hooked up to like a dozen computers, where his parent’s killer took his fucking nap.
Tony stared at Barnes’ frozen form. He looked completely different from the last time Tony had seen him. No blood all over, no black, intimidating outfit – the opposite, actually. The white clothes made him look innocent. Tony hated it. – and no metal arm.
Tony looked at his face again. Fuck. Barnes looked so young. And God! He was, wasn’t he? He was younger than Tony, all things considered, and ugh. No. Not going down that road. He was here on a mission.
And of course, that was when Tony’s traitor eyes went back to what was left of Barnes’ left limb. The one Tony had blown off. Oh, God! He had blown off someone’s arm. And, sure, it was metal, but it was still someone’s arm. Jesus. Tony blew someone’s arm off!
He was on his knees, retching bile, and his lunch on a wastebasket before he knew it.
“Fuck you, conscience,” he moaned after cleaning his mouth with the back of his hand. “Not the time.”
The door behind him slid open and close while Tony got back to his feet.
“Need a medic, Mr. Stark?”
Tony turned around to face T’challa. “You’re highness.” He cocked his head towards Barnes. “Need you to wake him up.”
“So that you can look at his eyes while you kill him?” T’challa smirked and shook his head; apparently, whatever he saw on Tony’s face was amusing. “He left you a letter,” he announced, stepping forward and handing Tony the simple, white envelope on his hand. “Captain Rogers has also asked me to forward an apology.”
“Yeah, he told me,” Tony said dismissively as he took the letter.
Unlike Steve’s, there was nothing written on the outside. Tony snorted. Those forties’ people and their letters. Frankly, Tony was done with it. He bowed a little at T’challa, “With all due respect.” And ripped the envelope in half, throwing it in the trash with his vomit.
The amusement left the king’s eyes but the smirk was still there. It looked deadly, but Tony was too annoyed to care.
“You should know, Mr. Stark,” T’challa began, calmly as he if he had all the time in the world. “Any attempt on Mr. Barnes’ life and you’ll leave here without yours.”
He put his hands in his pockets as if he had not just threatened to kill Tony. To protect Barnes. What?
“I’m sorry.” Tony placed his right hand over his chest, throwing T’challa his best confused look. “Weren’t you the one trying to kill him last week?”
T’challa sighed, the smile finally gone from his face. “Mr. Stark.” Oh, Tony knew that tone. It was the tone Pepper used on him when her patience with him was wearing thin, which was to say, whenever he appeared in front of her. Tony braced himself for the lecture. “Talk to him.”
“He didn’t kill your father. He killed mine. I literally watched—”
“You watched one video,” T’challa interrupted him. “Would you like to see the rest? I made copies while you and Rogers tried to kill each other instead of going after the confessed killer.”
“I went after the confessed killer.” Tony pointed behind himself. “He’s right there in your fridge.”
T’challa sighed again – Tony had that effect on people – then he walked over to one of the computers and began to type a series of codes. “It will take a while.” A sound came from the glass coffin but, when Tony looked at it, Barnes was still asleep. “If you touch him, Mr. Stark, you’ll regret it. I mean it.”
Tony scoffed. “Yeah, fine. You joined Rogers on the fan club, I get it.” It wasn’t like he had really thought he would just walk in and shoot Barnes without consequences. Well… a little part of him did, but yeah. Ok. He wasn’t naïve. He could probably get an extradition, though. He should have brought a lawyer. Or Pepper. He should have called Pepper.
T’challa finished typing and walked over to the door, opening it but making no move to leave. “I’ll let you know when you can meet him.”
Tony could have argued. He could have come with a dozen come backs; but what would be the fucking point, anyways?
He walked passed T’challa with his head held high. “What do you do for fun around here? Where do you keep the cool toys? All the Vibranium…” he sighed dreamily. “What do you use it for, mostly?”
“Ah, let me see.” T’challa made a show of looking up as if he had to think hard on it. “Certainly not for Frisbee,” he arched an eyebrow, “And definitely not to build maniac robots.”
Tony snorted.
“You’re no fun.”
-
Tony was only allowed to see Barnes the next day.
He spent the night in a room that could have given any five-star hotel a run for its money, staring at his phone and contemplating the pros and cons of calling Pepper. He could pretend he was drunk dialing her; it wasn’t as if her opinion of him could get any lower.
In the end, he didn’t do it, though. He slept for about four hours and then someone was knocking on his door and escorting him for breakfast with royalty.
Yep! Plaza got nothing on the Wakandan Palace.
Thankfully, T’challa was busy enough he didn’t have to pretend he and Tony had anything to talk about; not that Tony couldn’t have found a subject. Man, he took a pick at his Majesty’s science division yesterday, after seeing Barnes, and Tony saw a couple of things that were at the very least five years in advance from anything he had seen out there.
But alas, T’challa didn’t have time for him, and frankly, Tony was starting to get restless. He hadn’t checked the news yet, and part of him was dying to know what was happening to Cap. Well, Rogers. Tony supposed Steve wasn’t Captain America anymore, or maybe he just gave up the shield. His new friend could certainly provide him with a whole lot if he wanted. That was probably the case. Of course, Steve was still Captain America.
Anyhow, after breakfast another employee led Tony to another part of the palace, through a long corridor that ended in another set of apartments like the one Tony had spent the night in.
They stopped at the last door and the man knocked three times before stepping away. Tony had a feeling he would stay right there until Tony came out, and would also come in if he heard any sound of fighting or something.
Whatever.
The door opened before Tony could contemplate on it any longer, and then he was facing the Winter Soldier… but not really. The man shifted on his feet – which were bare – looking uncomfortable as he avoided Tony’s eyes.
Tony was looking at Bucky Barnes.
After a few long seconds, Barnes finally stepped aside and Tony made a point of closing the door on his babysitter’s face as he entered the room.
It looked exactly like his, except all the pillows were on the floor, next to the wall under the window.
“I didn’t read your letter, before you ask,” Tony began, turning away from the makeshift bed. “I don’t care what you have to say.”
Then, out of fucking nowhere – Tony would swear to Michael Jackson to his dying day – there was a gun on Barnes’s hand. Tony didn’t even have the time to fear for his life, though. The next thing he knew the gun was on his hand, his finger on the trigger and the muzzle pressed tightly to Barnes’ forehead.
“Be done with it,” he ordered; his voice calm and even. He wasn’t even shaking.
And Tony? He was sweating like a pig under his clothes, despite the perfectly functioning AC above their heads.
All I know is that, if you come for him, he doesn’t want them to get in the way.
Steve’s words came to him and, suddenly, Tony wasn’t so sure the man outside the door would interfere. And at the back of his mind, he could see it. He could picture Barnes with a hole between his eyes. Tony could picture himself telling the story to his parents’ graves, how he brought them justice.
His finger shook slightly on the trigger.
Barnes took a deep breath, but otherwise kept perfectly still.
Tony looked him in the eyes. Barnes’ had shot him point blank too, the gauntlet saving his life by mere seconds. It would be almost poetic.
Tony lowered the gun.
He couldn’t do it.
“Fuck! Fuck this fucking shit, fuck!” He clicked the safety back on – how had Barnes even? – and tossed the gun on the bed. Feeling as if he had just run a marathon, Tony bent over to rest his hand on his knee.
He was not having a panic attack over this. He was not! He just… had to control his breathing. Slow ins and outs. Deep breaths. Picture some waterfalls and shit.
“Asthma?” Barnes mumbled uncertainly in front of him.
When Tony finally straightened up and looked at Barnes, he could not, for the life of him, understand what he was seeing. The man seemed genuine, one hundred percent, concerned about Tony’s state. What. The. Hell.
It took him a few minutes to catch up with what Barnes had said. “What? No – that’s not –” He shook his head, trying to clear it. “I don’t have asthma, I have anxiety. Panic attacks and – things.” Tony waved his hand to encompass all he meant.
Barnes cocked his head to the side like a curious dog. “Is that the name for when you can’t breathe and feels like you’re dying sometimes?”
“Like you’re having a heart attack?” Tony asked and Barnes nodded. “Yep,” he confirmed, “those are the bastards.” And then more tentatively, “You have them?”
Barnes nodded again. “After I ran away,” he explained. “It happened every day for a year.”
Good Jesus, and you’re alive? Tony thought, but instead, he said, “Must’ve been a shitty year.”
“Yeah,” Barnes agreed. His eyes traveled around the room until they stopped on the gun on the bed. “You’re not gonna kill me?”
Tony thought about it for a few seconds, and after reaching no conclusion he shrugged. “Don’t know yet. Would you kill you?” Tony asked, but then, just in case Barnes mistook what he said for suicide, he added, “If you were in my place.”
Barnes took a long time to say nothing at all, so Tony changed the question.
“Would you kill Steve if roles were reversed?”
And that did it. Barnes’ eyes were suddenly huge. He shook his head vigorously “No, never.”
Tony arched an eyebrow, admittedly enjoying Barnes’ discomfort more than he would if had just shot him. “Why?” he prodded, “Considering he was the Winter Captain.”
“Cause he’s innocent! He didn’t ask for any of this.” Barnes was getting more and more agitated. Mixing Steve’s title with his clearly did a number on him. Funny enough – or not funny at all if you weren’t Tony – he could see Barnes wasn’t getting murdery crazy, but rather desperate kid crazy; which was more disturbing than funny, but okay. “I didn’t ask for any of this!” Barnes finally let out in a shout.
Tony wanted to give him some smarty come back, to scream back that he didn’t care, but he was looking directly into Barnes’s eyes and he could barely breathe again.
Barnes sagged; all energy seemed to have run out of him as he sat on the bed. “I never asked for this to happen,” he mumbled again under his breath, so softly Tony almost missed. “No one’s ever asked what I wanted.”
And yeah, Tony knew that. He’d done his homework. He knew Barnes had been drafted. And the rest… well, Tony guessed it wasn’t much like HYDRA’s style to ask for someone’s opinion before doing, well, pretty much whatever they wanted. So yeah, no choices for Barnes.
“What do you want?” The words were out before Tony could control his stupid brain to mouth filter. Curiosity was going to get him killed one day; he just knew it.
Barnes sighed heavily and for a moment, Tony thought he wasn’t going to get an answer. And really, if his thoughts had been any louder he’d have missed the soft whisper.
“I wanna go home.” Tony quickly looked away, pretending he didn’t see when Barnes’ hand wiped at his eyes. “An apartment in Brooklyn, me an’ Stevie can even have our own bedrooms now, I guess. Cold ain’t gonna bother him no more.” He shrugged. “And maybe, if – if Steve don’t get a girl. Maybe we grow old together.”
Tony arched an eyebrow, which Barnes didn’t see because he was too busy staring longingly at the floor.
"What about you? No girls for you... or boys?" Because the situation wasn’t already ridiculous enough, why not throw in Barnes’ love life. Since Tony wasn’t going to kill him right now he might as well get some juicy gossip. Was it still gossip if you only knew about it almost a century later? Oh well, who was counting, anyway?
And Barnes – oh, boy – Barnes went completely pale, and Tony was half afraid he was either going to pass out on him or finally snap and try to kill him.
He did neither.
"I… I don't." He looked around, checking if they were alone, even though the door was closed. "Please," Barnes begged, finally looking up at Tony with pleading eyes. Tony gulped, he didn’t like how those eyes made him feel. To be honest, he was starting to miss the murder glare; that he could deal with.
It took Tony's brain a moment to get with the program, but then he gasped. "Oh. My. God." Was the first thing out of his mouth because yeah, he had suspected. Steve's fucking blind devotion for someone who wasn't actually family and ok, Tony knew one could choose family, but there was something else there. Then another, awful realization hit him. "You don't kno... Nobody told –"
If possible, Barnes went even paler.
Tony shook his head. "Christ! Ok look," he fished his phone out of his pocket, ignoring all his instincts as he sat down next to Barnes. And, because he couldn't think straight (ha!), he typed the first thing that came to mind, which obviously was 'gay marriage' and shoved the mobile on Barnes's slightly shaky hand.
"What's this?" Barnes asked holding the phone a little too tightly and staring at Google Images as if it were about to bite him. Tony knew he wasn’t talking about the smartphone and, for once, he didn’t try to joke his way around it… like he would have done it with Steve.
"Totally okay now,” he explained, pointing at the picture of two guys in suits kissing in front of a big pride flag. “I mean, there are still assholes, but I doubt anyone is gonna attack you about it.”
Homophobes were stupid, but Tony didn’t think they were downright suicidal to pick a fight with the Winter Solder about his sexual preferences.
Barnes glanced up at him with wide eyes, and yeah, Tony was not prepared for that. He had come here to do business, goddamn it! He came here to confront this man and atone for his parent’s deaths. Not to do… whatever was happening. He certainly hadn’t come to be Barnes’ therapist.
What kind of stupid joke was his life anyway?
“It’s legal?”
“First,” Tony raised a finger, “stop looking at me like I’ve just invented fire. Second, close your mouth.” Barnes’ mouth snapped shut and it would have been satisfying if Tony’s brain hadn’t done him the favor of reminding him why it was so easy for Barnes to follow orders. Then Tony just felt gross. “And finally, yeah. There’s still a lot of places where you won’t be getting married any time soon, and also some extreme ones where you just can’t leave Narnia, but mostly, you’re good. Do whatever, as long as your partner’s legal too.”
Barnes blinked slowly at him and Tony was seriously considering if he should ask one of the doctors about brain damage. Then Barnes nodded, mostly to himself, and finally looked back at him with hope all over his face.
“Where’s Steve?”
Fuck.
So much for Tony’s Inigo Montoya moment.