Chapter Text
Well, the world was ending. Nothing new there.
That Steve had actually bothered to call Tony for help—that was enough to give Tony a heart attack.
Tony flew into DC through a heavy blanket of fog, the Heads Up Display outlining the cityscape below with a colored grid of lights. A red-and-gold scaled form skimmed and rolled and skidded along the misty air currents beside him—a miniature dragon, his familiar. The little beast clicked and chirred at him, bristling her scales and flexing her claws in anticipation. She was just as eager to get there as he was.
The only problem was, Tony didn’t know exactly where they were going—and it didn’t help he could barely see ten feet in front of him, which was a big problem when flying in at high speeds. Buildings and trees came ghosting through the fog, and the beams of slowly moving traffic below illuminated the haze. All the usual landmarks were obscured, and the HUD could only do so much to direct him.
Steve had sent out a beacon for Tony to home in on, but halfway to DC he’d lost the signal. Which couldn’t be good. According to Steve’s hurried distress call, Hydra had infiltrated SHIELD and assassinated Nick Fury. There wasn’t time for the nitty gritty details, but all Tony needed to know was that Steve was in danger and Hydra was involved.
No doubt Hydra was trying to remake the world again in some nefarious fashion or another. Tony knew their work firsthand and he knew it too well.
Tony’s parents had died in a car crash when he was no more than an infant and Obadiah Stane had taken over as Tony’s guardian. Just for good measure, he’d taken over Stark Industries as well. Tony’d trusted the man as a surrogate father, and so he’d trusted Obie when Obie introduced Tony into Hydra’s ranks when he was still too young to know better. As he grew, Tony’s technical genius had been exploited to develop weapons to further Hydra’s cause. By the time Tony was old enough to manifest a familiar, and therefore old enough to realize how twisted Hydra’s machinations were, he was already in too deep.
It had taken years for Tony to escape Hydra’s hold and then wrestle control of his father’s old company back. He’d gotten some permanently embedded shrapnel in his chest for his trouble (among other things). The last few years, he’d been doing his best to dismantle Hydra and make amends for the harm his weapons had caused.
And, honestly, Tony would have been able to make peace with Hydra engineering the end of days—that’s simply what Hydra did—except for the fact that things had just started going right in his life. So of course his past had to rear its ugly head and come screw it all up.
Tony had a criminally sexy boyfriend, who, well, okay, maybe the guy was a little overdone on the freedom and justice thing; but he was good to Tony and for once Tony thought that maybe, possibly, he was good for the guy in return. They butted heads from time to time, but at the very least Steve hadn’t politely, but firmly, kicked Tony out on his sorry ass. Not yet, anyway.
And Tony really didn’t want to lose him.
That was saying something, considering Tony had spent most of his life pining after someone else.
“Come on, Cap,” Tony muttered. “Where are you?”
His familiar trilled and shrieked a warning.
An explosion lit up the fog several streets over, followed by the steady tattoo of gunfire.
Well, that was a start.
Tony altered course and veered into the fray. He spotted Steve’s familiar first—a grey wolf racing through the mist and leaping on an enemy agent, growling as he took the man down. Tony hovered long enough to zero in on Steve, who was crouched behind his shield not far away, taking heavy gunfire from a string of Hydra goons armed with artillery and brute familiars to match.
Hydra really wasn’t kidding around with these guys.
Tony swooped down in front of Steve, landing swift and hard enough to crack the pavement. Small, targeted missiles erupted from the suit and each of the Hydra agents fell to the ground and their familiars glowed and faded into wisps.
Steve peered up at him from behind the shield, his expression softening with recognition.
“Tony,” Steve said, relieved. He smiled as Tony’s familiar circled down to Steve’s shoulder and bumped her scaled forehead against his cheek.
“Yep. That’s me,” Tony teased easily, offering his fugitive boyfriend a hand up.
“I didn’t think you’d come.”
“I’ll always come,” Tony said wryly, “if it’s you.” He really wished Steve could see the inappropriate waggle of his eyebrows and the incorrigible smirk on his lips behind the suit’s mask.
Somehow Steve got the message anyway—he knew Tony too well by now—and he gave Tony a flat, disappointed glare. “Now is not the time, Tony.”
Tony held up his hands. “Got it. Serious world-changing stuff going on here,” he said. “By the way, what the hell is going on here, Cap?”
Most of the streets in the near vicinity were deserted. Panicked civilians had fled their cars and left headlights on and engines running.
Another gunshot went off nearby and Steve’s wolf familiar snarled and raced toward the sound.
“No time. Nat needs our help.” Steve grabbed up the shield and ran off after his familiar.
“Right.” Tony and his dragon took to the air again, flying low to catch up to Steve.
A Hydra operative was perched atop one of the abandoned vehicles with Natasha in his sights. Steve’s familiar raced in and took up a stance defending Natasha—her spider familiar was too small to help in situations like this one—while Steve charged the assassin with all the subtlety of a bulldozer.
As the two grappled, Tony engaged the suit’s targeting systems. Then a flash of silver metal and a red star stopped him short.
Tony froze.
Yeah, so. About the guy Tony’d had a crush on all his life prior to meeting a certain spangled super soldier.
Tony’s familiar came to a landing on his shoulder and made a small, pained noise.
Oh, god. It was him. He was here.
The Winter Soldier.
Of course Hydra had called out the asset. Of course they had. Tony should have expected it for a mission serious enough to warrant assassinating Nick Fury.
That didn’t stop his stomach from dropping, and his throat from going dry.
The suit’s mechanisms rolled and shifted, unlocking so Tony could discreetly slip out. It would have been safer—and probably smarter—to stay inside the protective metal plating; but the Soldier didn’t know Tony in the armor. Hell, it had been years since they’d last seen each other. That meant multiple mind wipes and countless drugs erasing their already tenuous connection. The Soldier might not know Tony at all now; but he had to try.
Tony’s familiar circled around him in a glimmering line of scales, ready to protect him.
“Tony,” Steve shouted as he caught sight of him, “put the suit back on!”
Seriously, was there nothing the man didn’t notice? He was in the middle of a fight, being shot at and chased over the top of cars and slashed at with a knife, for god’s sake. But, sure, Tony getting out of the suit is what he notices.
Tony wasn’t a match for super soldiers in the heat of combat. He couldn’t help either of them by getting in the middle. But he just needed the Soldier to see him. Please.
Steve grabbed the Soldier and flipped him, sending him sprawling across the pavement, his mask falling and rolling away. A shadowy vapor coalesced and slithered around the Winter Soldier. It moved against the sweeping rush of fog, as though the shadow had its own will.
That was precisely the reason there were ghost stories about him.
Tony ran in and grabbed Steve before he could attack again while the Soldier was disoriented. Tony’s dragon widened her circle of flight to include them both.
“Don’t hurt him,” Tony said. Well, okay, he begged. He wasn’t above begging if he had to—if he thought it would sway Steve’s opinion. “He’s not himself.”
“I don’t have much choice if he attacks us first,” Steve said, eying Tony doubtfully. He was trying to be patient, but the strain was evident in his tone. As usual, Tony was asking for too much. “He killed Fury and Sitwell already. I can’t let him endanger more lives. This is too important.”
Tony’s stomach clenched again. “I grew up with him, Steve. I know him. He protected me, more than once.” Well, the Soldier protected Tony when he could. When he remembered through the static of brainwashing who Tony was. “Hydra made him this way.” He grabbed Steve’s jacket sleeve. “Please.”
“Is that why he doesn’t have a familiar?” Steve asked stiffly.
And ouch. That hurt. Popular opinion had it that not having a familiar was akin to not having a soul. That wasn’t true—there were all kinds of ways someone could lose their animal—but, yeah, to an outsider it looked bad. Really bad.
Tony had grown up with the tortures of Hydra. He’d seen the worst they could do to a person and their familiar. Hydra could twist a person’s guardian into something truly horrific. Tony was lucky he’d been born a stubborn asshole and all the things they’d done to him served to make him—and his familiar—stronger. Other people like the Soldier weren’t so lucky.
“He has one,” Tony insisted. Though he was a little pissed he had to make that the issue here. “Hydra suppressed it. I’ve seen it. He just—he can’t manifest it, Steve.”
Steve’s familiar came trotting back through the mist, head low, hackles raised, teeth ready. He’d escorted Natasha away, and Tony knew her well enough to worry that she’d be back soon with counter measures. They didn’t have time to chat about this.
The Soldier rolled over and staggered back to his feet, still stunned.
Steve’s familiar made a low growl that tapered off into a high, incredulous whine. Steve frowned and brushed his fingers through the wolf’s soft fur, frowning.
Then the soldier turned and Steve went white, his mouth dropping open in shock.
And holy shit. Steve knew him, too. How the hell did Steve know the Winter Solider?
Tony didn’t have a chance to ask.
The shadow of energy around the Solider coalesced and a weak, wavering, translucent form padded on soft paws around him. It was big. There was a flash of a long, feline tail, white fur and black spots, and large grey-blue eyes. It was only a moment and then the form faded back into smoke.
“Bucky?” Steve whispered, his voice hollow and desperate with hope.
Bucky? Tony’s brow furrowed. Who the—
“Who the hell is Bucky?” the Soldier rasped.
Tony’s heart thudded. It’d been so long since he’d heard that voice—always rough with screaming—and it made him ache. Right about now Tony didn’t care how Steve knew the Soldier, all he cared was that Steve no longer seemed intent on fighting Tony about the need to save him. If they could just get through to him.
The Soldier’s eyes shifted, turning to Tony just long enough to really see him. The Soldier’s lips parted, and his brow furrowed. His eyes, grey like the sea, focused sharply. Then, pained, he staggered back a pace, grabbing for his gun.
Out of nowhere, a gyrfalcon familiar swooped down and clipped the Solider with his talons. A stranger wearing mechanical wings swooped down after it, knocking the Solider off his feet before he could take the shot.
Tony didn’t have time to process the unexpected arrival. His familiar shrieked another warning and there was the distinct sound of a rocket launcher discharging. As predicted, Natasha had come back with serious counter measures.Then everything was fire and chaos and fog and billowing smoke. Tony lost sight of the Soldier in the mist.
SHIELD agents—covert Hydra operatives—were converging on the scene, ready to arrest Captain America. They had to get out of here.
Tony and Steve looked at one another, sharing a moment of vulnerable understanding. The Soldier—Bucky—belonged with them. He was important to them both, though they didn’t understand each other’s reasons for it quite yet. They could talk that all out later. For now—
Tony grabbed Steve’s hand. “We’ll find him,” he promised fiercely.
Steve gripped Tony’s hand in return and nodded decisively. “We’ll bring him back.”