Chapter Text
Steve feels that this is really the least surprising turn of his life so far. And also it’s really sad that this is a fact.
After all, how many people can honestly say being sacrificed to a fierce, man eating Dragon is “unsurprising”? Steve sighs and gives the ropes around his wrist another yank, grimacing at the burn of skin already scraped raw. Honestly, when he’d wheezed himself awake this morning being tied to a literal wooden post in the middle of a field like some demented scarecrow had been the last thing he’d expected. But Steve was also small, and sickly, unable to work and not particularly productive to the village because of it. He supposed if someone had to he sacrificed to the Dragon it would be him.
He’s been out here for hours, now, the sun creeping higher as he tirelessly works at the ropes. Hey, just because everybody else thinks it’s okay to sacrifice him to the beast doesn’t mean Steve’s going to take that lying down. The rope is slick with blood, and Steve’s just about got his hand free when a twig snaps behind him. In spite of himself, Steve jumps and tries to contort himself to look over his shoulder.
“Stevie?”
Steve sags against the pole in relief as a beloved, familiar face comes into view.
“Buck! Boy am I glad to - good Gods, what is that?”
“Shut up, punk. I didn’t exactly have time to have it fitted.” Bucky snaps, yanking a belt knife out and going to work on the ropes. Steve simply gapes as he takes in the saddest, most haphazard suit of armour he’s ever seen. The metal is dented, rusted and ill-fitting, draping awkwardly from Bucky’s lean frame. His lack of an arm only seems to make it worse, the empty sleeve of chainmail flapping sadly in the wind.
“But…Where did you even get it from? It looks like you’ve strapped the kitchenware on!” Steve flails one free hand, grimacing at the ominous rattle of Bucky’s every movement.
“Really? Our charming village sacrifices you to a dragon and you’re worried about my outfit?” Bucky snarks, and then immediately after grunts in satisfaction as the other rope snaps free. Steve stumbles when he hits the ground, and a big, warm hand curls around his shoulder to steady him. Steve opens his mouth, fully intending on sassing right back, when a distinctly largeshadow falls over them both.
As one, both men turn their gazes upward.
“Did you hear a dragon fly up?” Steve mutters out of the corner of his mouth, and Bucky quite literally growls even as he pulls out a sword that’s not really any better than the armour. The dragon gives the blade a suitably unimpressed look.
“Really, Stevie?” Bucky doesn’t take his eyes off the dragon, though the beast makes no move towards them. It’s a beautiful creature, and Steve would love to draw it, if he wasn’t about to become it’s lunch (or, realistically, a toothpick). Crimson scales shine brilliantly in the sunlight, fading into a soft bronze-gold on the underbelly and throat.
“Are you lost?” The dragon says, sounding far more disgruntled than it has a right to, given that Steve is the innocent sacrifice here.
“No, uh, nope. Pretty sure my village meant to tie me up here.” Steve replies, without really pausing to think about the fact a dragon is talking. He even helpfully gestures to the pole. The dragon wanders a little closer, all sinuous grace, and Bucky lunges forward.
“Back, beast! You’re not having Steve.” He snarls, and the tip of the blade slides along the dragon’s scales with a screech.
“Now, that’s just rude. You come into my field, in my territory, and then wave this…this…thing at me!” Smoke curls out of the dragon’s nose, and Bucky shuffles a little closer to Steve.
“It’s a sword,” He responds weakly, and actual flame spits from the dragons mouth.
“A sword he calls it ! I wouldn’t scratch my armpit with that hunk of slag metal!”
“Charming,” Steve puts in, relaxing because he’s pretty sure the dragon isn’t going to eat him and also because Bucky’s face is kind of hilarious. Bucky seems to have the same thought, because the sword slowly lowers.
“I thought dragons lived in caves. Why do you have a field?” He responds doubtfully, as if he thinks this dragon might not be a real dragon.
“I do live in a cave! But this is my field. And you’re sitting in it. Why are you sitting in it?” The dragon flicks it’s claws at them in a clear ‘move along’ gesture. Steve chooses to ignore the gesture, and also Bucky’s complete lack of surprise.
“My village sacrificed me to the dragon. Er, well, you I suppose.” The dragon blinks, and cocks it’s head to side.
“What in the Gods’ name would I want with a human? Never mind, don’t answer that, I don’t want to know, humans are strange enough. Well, I don’t want one, now shoo. I have work to do.”
And with that the dragon turns away, and with a great push of it’s leathery wings that knocks Steve literally from his feet, it flies away.
~x~
“You’re back.”
Steve looks up with a grin, taking in the curiously cocked head of the dragon sitting across from him. He’s leaning against Bucky’s good shoulder and there’s a hastily packed lunch spread on the blanket beneath them. Bucky had simply sighed when Steve said he wanted to see the dragon again, and hadn’t bothered trying to argue.
“Do you want to have lunch with us?” Steve responds innocently, gesturing at the goat haunch he’d had Bucky drag out with them. The dragon squints at them suspiciously and Bucky huffs.
“Just eat it, you overgrown lizard.” He grumbles.
“Tony! My name is Tony, and I am not a lizard!” Tony puffs up with indignation and snaps the goat hunch up, making both humans cringe as he crunches noisily on the offering.
“Whatever, frogface.” Bucky responds, though he’s clearly fighting a smile.
“Frogface?!”
~x~
It’s a night later, and Bucky finds himself awake, shaken from a nightmare and drenched in cold sweat. Normally, he’d go straight to Steve, but his best friend had come down sick and needed his rest. Without really thinking about it, Bucky finds himself stumbling outside, and before he knows it he’s made the short walk from the village to the huge field. He collapses next to the wooden stake and presses his back against it. His breath rattles in his lungs and he thinks he might be sick. He loses track of time, but he’s sure it hasn’t been that long when the ground vibrates with the approach of something heavy. A warm weight settles behind him, surrounding him and the wooden post as a great, reptilian head settles half on the ground and half in his lap.
“We have to stop meeting like this,” Tony murmurs softly, hot breath gushing across Bucky’s knees. Bucky lays his hands flat atop Tony’s head, and smooths his fingers gently across surprisingly soft scales.
“What, in ‘your’ field?” He rasps, struggling for his usual humour and snark. Tony snorts and nudges his head into Bucky’s touch. He doesn’t respond, but simply lays there, surrounding Bucky in heat and safety.
Steve finds them there some time later, asleep curled together with the sun just barely lightening the sky. He hesitates only a moment before he climbs his way in amongst the tangle of scales and human skin.