Long May She Reign. 

The Winter Soldier: *Kicks a man into a flaming engine*

The Winter Soldier: *Throws a grenade at a pilot and steals his aircraft*

Steve *calling over his shoulder while running after Bucky*: Sorry about that! He’s not usually like this! He’s really very nice most of the time!

Peom by Steeb.

Oh god I wrote a thing:

my name is Steeb and wen is night wen Avengers sleeping tite Hawkeye snorin in his nest wif teddy snuggled to his chest Widow in her webby place Bruce is somwher out in space

Tony werkin on his soots an Vision doin teh computes even Wanda disnt see or Sam when he get up to pee Thor he is not evn heer (probly on asgard drinkin beer) I sneek down to tha hangar bay an get in quinjet on my way

to Wakanda I will fly peopl no the reason why no one sees me i am lucky

i pres defrost i kis the Bucky

what if...

the winter soldier gets triggered but instead of hurting or killing people, he just becomes really passive aggressive and generally dickish to everyone.

he refills the salt shaker with sugar

“i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to spill my drink all over your lap”

stealths through the living room and unplugs the tv 5 minutes before your favorite show is about to start

you think it’s just the tv remote and go to get new batteries only to find bucky’s replaced all the new batteries with dead ones

he deletes all your shows and timers on the dvr

but does it slowly, 1 or 2 at a time, so you just think something’s wrong with the dvr

can’t find your toothbrush. bucky took it to clean his guns

waits until you get in the shower to start the dishwasher

double dips in the fondue

writes his name on every food item in the house, even the stuff he didn’t buy

“this is my fruit bowl. no one is allowed to eat from it but me”

sees you washing a load of white clothes. throws his red shirt in

takes up playing the kazoo

best time to practice it is at 3 am. says it helps with his insomnia

all toilet paper in the house has disappeared

fills the candy dish in the kitchen with sugar free gummy bears

“i don’t :) know why :) you’re so :) upset :)”

Steve: “Buck, stop! You’re going to kill someone!”

Bucky: “Bucky never meant to kill. Bucky only meant to maim or seriously injure.”

Hint.

You are a dying star.

Bucky x Reader Valentines fic??

Should I turn this into a Bucky x Reader valentines fic?? It made me laugh thinking about it

It’s Feb 14th

Bucky doesn’t realise it’s Valentines Day until he sees Steve’s newspaper

Is conflicted and anxious

Decides to get you some flowers and chocolates

But he can’t just give them to you

So he leaves them outside your door

But DUM-E takes them and tells Tony he got them for Tony

Tony knows this isn’t true but can’t stop laughing and now he’s crying

Maybe kill Tony Stark maybe not ??

Goes out and gets more flowers

Decides to give them to you but can’t find you

Waits all day and finally you come home late

He goes to you when you’re on the balcony and stutters out something incomprehensible

You just stare at him wondering what the fuck “you’re flowers are really chocolate” means

He ends up throwing the flowers at you and shouting-

“I FUCKING LIKE YOU”

Tony tweets the cctv footage

The Merchant and the Soldier

Summary: Tony is a sick man. A cold man. He is fractured like the dying light.

Hands reach out and ask for more; money, weapons, power, contracts, apologies. They'd ask for his heart if they thought he had one. - In which Tony and Bucky have a solemn conversation in the early morning hours, and in which Tony struggles to hide his cruel urges and Bucky battles with his own broken mind.

"Of Glory, Honor, and the Road to Redemption" companion piece. (Does not need to be read to read this)

Link to series -> Of Glory, Honor, and the Path to Redemption

Warnings: confused state of mind, very brief mention of murder, suggested sociopath tony stark

Tony Stark is a sick man. A cold man. He is fractured like the dying light.

The others, they don't know this.

They see him as the world sees him; an egotistical man, even if that ego is valid.

It doesn't bother him most days. In fact, after Tony accepted he simply would never be friends with the rest of the Avengers, his life became easier.

The team thought him naive and childish, always pushing him away. Steve's pursed lips, Wanda's rolled eyes, Natasha's suspicious glares, Sam's grimaces. Barnes, of all people, actually tried to be amicable.. as amicable as a lost and feral soul can be.

But he had Pepper and Rhodey, and Happy and Gene. So quietly, wrathfully, Tony put distance between them, holding his head high and flashing that billion dollar smile.

Quickly he had settled back into his old routine.

Wake up (gasping), stumble (blearily), then settle (achingly) into his lab.

Invent (breathlessly); invent (tirelessly); invent (euphorically); until his legs give out and he collapses, once again thrashing in sleepless fits.

Wash, rinse, repeat.

They never noticed him, nor asked about him, unless something came up. It was alright. It was soothing. Between the White House, Wakanda, Stark Industries, SHIELD, and every terrorist from New York to Timbuktu, Tony really didn't have the energy to entertain backstabbing 'friends'.

The ignorance towards him quelled his ever present rage and helped him hide when he slipped up. When Tony lost control for a moment and everything rushed to a torrent between his ears, knuckles whitening, thoughts of revenge and vehemence urging him to kick them from his tower.

Eyes that judge never see the truth, and hands that are bitten eventually recoil. "But it would not be today," Tony tells himself calmly, with a smile, as he wipes coffee and shards from his hands. DUM-E beeps solemly, sweeping the remnants of a shattered mug away.

Hands reach out and ask for more; money, weapons, power, contracts, apologies. They'd ask for his heart if they thought he had one.

What a joke.

I need a new bow.

Sigh.

My suit is torn.

Twitch.

Upgrade the helicarrier by next Friday.

Breathe.

Gala at 6, conference at 11.

Smile.

Don't you have somewhere else to be?

Calm.

Nowdays it seemed to be Doctor Doom and his stupid Doombots, terrorizing New York and Chicago. Cap would call for him and they would all meet for a few hours. Defeat Doom for a day, and retreat.

Sometimes.., sometimes Tony would consider just ending Doom.

Killing him.

Feeling the man's skull squelch between his armored fingers. Laughing estatically as blood seeped into the carpet..

The man's infuriating plans were novice, but still destructive. Yet if he did.. that, Tony would never leave his tower. What would be the point? It would be rare for civilians to even be injured during these fights, so it really wasn't that bad to let Doom live. Not with the original Avengers, sans Clint, Thor, and Bruce, plus Spiderman, Barnes, Ant-man, Vision, and the twins. Together they formed a formidable team. They had every twist, turn, bullet, and bounce fine tuned to a well oiled and righteous fist.

At night when the world is asleep, he stands with a glass of whiskey and stares out across the twinkling skyline.

One time, Barnes happens upon him.

The reformed assassin appears surprised. Of course, Tony thinks, what kind of nutter stands in the shadows like a statue.

"Sorry," Barnes croaks out, turning to leave.

"Don't be," Tony hums. "Want one?"

The taller man half turns to face him with confusion written across his face.

Tony clinks his glass.

"Oh.. uh.."

"Sure," Tony supplies. "Come here," he gestures.

The faint city lights illuminate James Barnes as the man steps forward tentatively, feeling cornered and uncertain.

"I won't bite,” the industrialist hums. It’s almost a giggle; humorous and childlike.

Pouring amber liquor into a crystal glass, Tony moves from the shadows into the dim lighting with grace. "Here."

Barnes stares at him. Eyes wide and blue like a puppy, and finally, Tony does not feel thunderous cruelty in his veins.

"I.. thanks." Barnes replies, carefully taking the glass.

Moments of silence pass between them, comfortable for Tony and eerie for Barnes, before the supersoldier can't take the strange interaction any longer.

"Can't get drunk," he grunts, eyes cast far away and beyond the city, likely reliving horrors unimaginable. "Serum stops it."

Tony quirks an eyebrow, bringing his glass to his lips. "Not even on Asgardian mead?"

Barnes shrugs, "Haven't tried it. Could-could you imagine a raging drunk Winter Soldier?"

Tony stills and Barnes thinks he never should have accepted the drink, until Tony's cackling, biting laughter explodes across the balcony and into the night. Barnes jumps for a moment, rattled, but still smiles a little.

"That'd be pretty bad," Tony laughs raucously, "HOO THA HEEEYL IS BUHKEE?" he grunts out in a gravelly baritone, pulling a sour face. He wheezes as he laughs.

Incredulously, Barnes gapes at the mans audacity before his own laughter bubbles up, long forgotten and disused. They collapse against the railing, giggling like children, and bask in a strange but shared moment of comfort.

Tony sighs as he leans against a pillar, "Fuck this place. Just fuck it."

Barnes, who is still leaning against the railing in a state of bewilderment, turns his head. Tony’s moods were giving him whiplash but he wondered if the man was always like this and he had just never noticed. "Are you drunk, Stark?"

"No," the darker haired man snorts. "I'd need another ten, maybe twelve of these to be."

Barnes contemplates him silently, unsure of how to reply. He needn't have bothered, though, as Tony powered on.

"Don't you get sick of them?" Tony spat, face crinkling in anger. "The 'team'. Above everyone else, all mighty and just. Anyone can throw a shield or a knife, shoot someone in the head, and pretend they're a hero. Guess the only difference is, sometimes they are. But sometimes they aren't."

The Soldier is stunned and uncertain of what to say. Words do not come easily to him anymore. They are foreign and rusted, and if he isn't careful, inflict as much damage as his vibranium fist. He chooses his words carefully, certain the genius is aware of their weight, and likely, a victim of the same scathing repertoire the media aims at himself.

"They aren't fond of you," he begins lowly, "Because of your intelligence." It comes off as more of a question, and to which Tony mutely shakes his head. "Or because you don't fall in line," Barnes offers, feeling a dusty resurgence of fear towards his prior handlers. It hits him like a train and he supposes, if it's true, then he hadn't left it all behind him after all.

Tony confirms it with a bitter grin, "Bingo, amigo," he hisses. "What use is a soldier if I don't follow orders like a good little dog. Problem is I'm not a soldier and they know it. Pawns of war aren't supposed to be variables."

Barnes stays quiet, bothered by this revelation.

"You know why Natasha doesn't like me?" Tony asks, draining his glass. "When she applied to SI, I knew who she was. You can't hide from me," the man hisses, fist clench dangerously tight around the crystal glass. Tony's tone rattles him to the bone, stoking his paranoia. It’s so unlike the officious and enthused man who usually blitz’s around the labs, and more like a man.. a memory, vague, comes to mind. Probably someone from the war. From Stevie.. 

Of course, Barnes knew all about Widow's espionage. He had read their files; studied scrupulously to confirm Steve's assurances that they are not in fact HYDRA.

"She knows that now, she must. I let her join Pepper. SHIELD wanted something and I was interested. Her report, as I'm sure you know," he spoke dryly, "Stated 'Iron Man yes, Tony Stark no.' Simple verbiage, clear intent. But what they overlooked is even simpler. I had a change of heart in Afghanistan- declared a symptom of PTSD, but SI was only the company. Those weapons came from here," he tapped his temple. "Natasha took too long to realise this. Now she is weary of me. Thinks I'm a loose cannon. Naive. But she doesn't understand. Without me, SHIELD would not have been resurrected. The bows, the arrows, the Widows bites, the jets. They are me and I am them. The suit can fly and fight, but it's little more than a drone with a detonator without me,"

"Then why do you stay?" Tony shrugs half heartedly, eyes set hard upon central park.

He hums. "Thanos is coming."

A shiver races down the taller man's spine, icy like the tundra, like his old bed, like 1944. "For Pepper."

"For Pepper," Tony nods, "And Gene, and Happy and Rhodey, and humanity. What is right is not often wanted."

They return to a quiet, solemn companionship. In which Tony muses over his nightmares, over Thanos, the gaping void in the sky, and the blood thrumming in his veins. In which Barnes feels hollow, and cold, and longs for warmth and acceptance, but falls short, always riddled with paranoia as he fights the voice in his head. Eventually as the stars start to wink out, one by one, and the traffic below grows louder, James Barnes straightens up and asks one final question.

"If we live," comes the hoarse, tired words, "What will you do after?"

Tony bites his lip, hand wavering, before he drops his glass off the side and watches it plummet two hundred stories to the alley below. "The same as usual, pumpkin. Smile, wave, and dance. That's my job. Why, you think we won't win?"

Barnes looks at him sideways, wondering how this walking paradox of a man can be so raw yet so confident. "No." He admits. "Loki called him 'the Mad Titan'. The wizard is scared."

Tony breaks a real smile for a moment. "Wizards. Yeah, well, Loki's scared of Gene, too. Giant pussy cat."

Barnes just shakes his head, turning away from the balcony. "How come you aren't scared?"

Tony is strutting off with his hands in his pockets when he shrugs, and Barnes can almost see the smile on his face. "Oh, honeybun. Don't you know? I'm the Merchant of Death."

I’m Bad At Love (But You Can’t Blame Me For Trying)

A WinterIron plot bunny idea I had and wanted to get out because I’ve seen Hanahaki Disease floating around my dash for a bit, and I couldn’t give up a good idea what I had it. I don’t feel like it’s a fully fleshed out enough fic to post on AO3, but I just like the concept. Bad At Love by Halsey inspired the title because fuck Halsey and her feels. (the aesthetic is mine)

Tony was four, the first time he caught Hanahaki. Four. And if that weren’t sad enough in concept, it was even worse knowing it was from his father.

Tony had just built his first circuit board. Worked on it for weeks, which to a four-year-old felt like a world of time and energy. But he’d finished it. And it worked. He’d shown Jarvis first, and the reaction from his caretaker had been one that lit up Tony’s world. Tony was sure, oh he was so sure, if Jarvis had loved it so much, his father would have at least liked it a little bit. Sure, he’d always been a bit distant with Tony, but Tony had worked so hard. He’d worked so hard.

But when his little hands thrust the circuit board toward his father, almost as if it were an offering, big brown eyes wide with hope, the only response he got was his father raising a hand to him, sending Tony and the circuit board down tumbling to the ground with one strike. It was then, lying on the ground at his father’s feet, Tony coughed up his first flower. He was too young to even understand what it was supposed to mean, he only knew that when his father crushed the flower with his foot as he walked away from Tony, Tony’s chest ached.

After that, Tony was conservative with his love. It took him even weeks to accept love from Jarvis, too afraid of being pushed away again. He eventually got over it, but he was still too skittish to love someone new, for the time being.

The first time it was a romantic love, was with Rhodey. Rhodey was amazing in every way, and Tony couldn’t help fall for him. And sure, Rhodey loved him back, he’d made that very clear, but the pinched look on his face the first time Tony coughed up flowers when Rhodey mentioned he was straight said it all. Platonic love wasn’t enough. At least, for Tony.

But Tony convinced Rhodey he’d be able to get over it, and he was, eventually. It took months, Tony even considered surgery, but eventually, he did really feel happy for Rhodey when he saw him with some girl and stopped coughing up those damned flowers.

At his parent’s funeral, someone had once asked Tony how he felt. His only response had been to stare at his mother’s gravestone with a heavy heart, then choke up a mouthful of flowers. It made sense, he guessed. She couldn’t love him if she was dead. There were good reasons Tony was an atheist. No one, not even his mother, could love him beyond the grave.

Tony wasn’t even surprised when it happened with Pepper. After Rhodey, Tony had given up on trying not to fall in love. Most of his crushes went as quick as they came, one of the main reasons they were never requited, Tony supposed. He was just bad at love. He couldn’t seem to make it last. Going back and forth between coughing up flowers and not; until Tony didn’t even bother paying attention to who was the cause. They wouldn’t matter in a few weeks.

But Pepper’s had lasted so achingly long. So long that Tony actually forced himself to go through with the surgery, only because he couldn’t handle the disapproving looks from Pepper every time he coughed up petals around her. It hurt, not only physically to have the flowers removed, but also emotionally. To have one of his most lasting loves ripped from his heart, just because he couldn’t contain himself.

He was just bad at love.

With Steve, it had been surprising. At least to Tony, anyway. Tony thought he hated Steve, detested every inch of his being. And Tony supposed he did, in some ways. But for reasons that couldn’t seem to stick. At least not the way his love did.

It had startled both of them when Tony started coughing up flowers when Steve had snapped out some insult at him. The look of disgust on Steve’s face somewhat reminded Tony of Howard’s reaction. It did, even more, when Steve stormed out of the room, crushing petals that had fallen to the ground with his step.

After Steve, Tony decided he would never fall in love again. It was a vain promise, sure, but Tony vowed to follow it, even if it led him to the grave. He didn’t want to ever have to deal with a mouthful of flowers again. To him, that’s all that love was.

Maybe that was the real reason it took him so long to realize he was in love with Bucky.

Sure, Tony hit it off with Bucky. More so than anyone had predicted they would, all things considered. The lingering touches, the flirtings, the inside jokes, the sweet laughter at two am.

Natasha was the person to bring it up to Tony.

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?” She asked one night over coffee when it was much too late for either of them to be drinking coffee.

Tony glanced up. “Nat, I’ve been over Steve for almost a year now.”

She rolled her eyes. “Not Steve. Bucky.”

Tony frowned. “Haven’t been puking up any petunias lately, so nope, don’t think so.”

“You’d only have Hanahaki if it was unrequited, Tony.” She sipped her coffee.

“I-what?” Tony paused, staring at her. “I don’t-James doesn’t-”

“Tony.” Natasha cut him off. “You’re the only person in this Tower who calls him by his first name, and I’m positive he’d punch anyone else who tried. And same goes for him calling you Anthony. You look at him like he’s your moon, he looks at you like your his sun. It’s ridiculous how sappy you both are.”

Tony stared at her. “I don’t…”

“Hush.” Natasha flicked his head. “Ask him out for coffee sometime.”

“I can’t do that.” Tony stared at her with impossibly wide eyes.

“Why not?”

Tony blinked. He supposed she had a point. But grasping the idea that he had a crush on Bucky was… it felt impossible. Tony was so used to love and Hanahaki being bound together for him, one couldn’t exist without the other. The idea that he loved Bucky was barely overshadowed by the realization that Bucky loved him back.

Bucky loved him. Someone loved Tony. For once in Tony’s life, someone returned the affection he was so used to burning and withering away inside of him.

For that reason, Tony was terrified. Terrified he might get over this crush on Bucky as quickly as he had his previous crushes, and he’d leave Bucky just as hurt as others had left him. Tony couldn’t do that to someone else. He just couldn’t. Maybe Tony was bad at love, but he had to try.

“Okay. I’ll ask him out for coffee sometime.”

Me Trying To Learn Russian Someday

Teacher: Hello.

Me: Freight car.

Carrion Daybreak C1 - Bucky x OC - Avengers Series - Of Glory, Honor, and the Path to Redemption

Summary: No longer fugitives, the Avengers are broken.

Bucky is lost; struggling with his identity and past as he tries to right his perceived wrongs. Tony is cold; his soul withered and mind ravaged by visions of terror. Political warfare breaks out, unmasking shadow organizations, spies, and corrupt officials. Enemies stir on the horizon.

As the last remaining wolves of HYDRA are hunted down, two Gods return, scarred and worn. They bring ominous news of war and Titans.

The World Eater is coming.

Series masterlist (link)

WARNINGS: This chap isn’t too bad but there is a small depiction of Bucky/Winter Soldier ID crisis. A good amount of tension between the team. And a panic attack in both Bucky and Tony. 

This is eventually a Bucky x OC story.

Carrion Daybreak

- Avengers Global Compound (AGC), Upstate New York, Midgard. 7:53AM. February 5th, 2018. -

It was with trepidation that former-Sargent James Buchanan Barnes stepped out of the sleek Wakandan jet. He was the last to emerge, hiding behind his childhood friend and the rest of the fugitive heroes. This place is foreign to him, more so than the arid heat and sprawling jungles of Wakanda. It sets him on edge, certain his fate would not be so kind as King T'Challa's heart.

"Welcome back," a wry figure, with offensively orange glasses and mishappen hair, greeted. He stood casually, hands in pockets, dressed in worn jeans and a faded black shirt. Beside him stood a young woman, dressed equally casual, cloaked in an oversized sweatshirt and jeans. James glimpsed caramel skin briefly before she turned away.

Anthony Edward Stark, supplied the darkness in his mind. Unknown female. Assessment pending.

"Tony," Steve greeted, smiling warmly at the man. "Miss Gene." The Captain reached out to shake hands but was quickly rebuffed as Tony turned, angling himself towards the landing strip. Steve frowned and hesitantly let his hand drop.

Iron Man. Genius. Unpredictable. High level threat. Caution advised.

Female identified. Gene. Assessment pending.

"And how is everyone on this glorious American morning? Feeling chipper? Need some coffee? We have a long day ahead of us, kids."

To his left, the Widow and the Witch shared unpleasant commentary, a comradery in their nasty thoughts. Even the Hawk seemed unenthused with the man, although it reaped no surprise if their opinions were an indicator. Clint raked a hand through his hair, breathing deeply.

Steve had recovered from the slight, returning to his usual sunny disposition. "It's really great to be home again," he offered, trying to gain Tony's attention.

Tony hummed, lips pursed. "Shall we enter, then?" he swept a tan arm toward the lobby, "Lots has changed. You'll need a tour."

Steve bowed his head, "Lead the way."

James quietly followed after the others, mapping the grounds and itemizing escape routes. Widow and Witch continued to chuckle, sharing barbs and memories, with cruel delight that showed just how happy they were to be home.

It seemed Scott and Sam were more at ease. Of course, he thought, they were never a part of the Avengers until recruited after SHIELD fell. Which happened in part, if not entirety, because of James.

As they walked, the group converged across the grounds, a strange tension crackling in the air. Relief was palpable, an ode to the year long estrangement from the only home most of them had ever known. It mixed with bitter resentment, like inky black oil and stagnant, cloudy water.

For James it was strange. Strange like a deep summer haze, yet he was ice cold.

New York had once been his stomping ground. In a prior life he had run rampant across the boroughs, fighting ragtag groups of kids and listening to musicals in the backalleys of Manhattan. But that life had faded from his mind and he only knew of it because Steve had told him so.

So nostalgia evaded him, replaced by caution and fear, and jittering nerves. No longer an American soul, he felt alone, deserted in his mind with only the Soldier's ominous presence to keep him company.

"You're going to need your room cards and a security check." Tony began, pushing the door to the lobby open. He strutted through like he owned the place, which James supposed was true, whilst Gene held the door open for them. "Your biometrics will be uploaded into the database and FRIDAY will map out the compound on the Starkpads you'll get soon."

James listened as he gauged the five story building before he slipped inside. He calculated the height of the top story and the damage he would take should he need to jump.

One sprained ankle. One fractured shin. Weak spot: left knee. Time to recovery: 4 hours.

"After that's been done, you can settle in. You each have your own rooms in the East Wing, which is where Vision and Gene are. In those rooms you'll find a self contained kitchenette, wash room, and your copies of the Accords. Read them or don't, but I advise you do." Tony gestured towards a guard manned desk, seemingly unaware of the sudden change in topic, not to mention tone, of his spiel.

Wanda bristled, but whether it was at his comanding voice, mention of the Accords, or having a security check, James was uncertain. If he had to hazard a guess, he would choose the latter. The Soldier disagreed, citing them all as Wanda's immaturity took little to ire.

"Security check? This is our home, Stark. Why do I need a security check? Is it not enough that I have signed the Accords?"

Tony sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, but didn't speak as a very tall, very broad black man stepped from around the desk, smiling warmly at them. "If you would place any electronics, firearms, metal objects, weapons, or combination thereof into the tray and then please step through, you will be permitted entry."

Without argument, Steve did as asked, dropping his sole duffle bag into the tray and moving through the scanner. "It's okay, Wanda," he placated, "It's just standard procedure. Right, Tony?"

"Yeup," came the clipped reply, "Everyone has to be screened once. Not singling you out, Maximoff."

Despite looking like she wanted to argue, Wanda held her tongue and lined up behind Natasha who gave the younger woman an encouraging squeeze. One by one they stepped through, with Lang having to redo it three times because of his belt buckle, iPod, and necklace ("Sorry, sorry. TSA always gives me hell.") before it was his turn.

The Soldier frowned, muttering in Russian, but James simply followed suit and placed his bag in the tray before stepping through.

A horrid beeping filled his ears, making him jump like a startled cat. Tony would have laughed if he thought it wouldn't end badly. Wide eyed, James stepped backwards, uncertain why the scanner beeped.

"Sir, do you have an concealed weapons or cellular devices on you?"

His disused voice sounded even worse to his own ears than everyone else, but he shook his head and said 'no' regardless.

Figuring it may be his boots, he untied them and took them off, feeling unrelenting eyes boring into him. It made him nervous and put the Soldier on edge, fighting him for control. When the scanner beeped yet again, James was ready to just strip naked and see if that worked, because damn if his hands weren't sweaty.

The others were talking amongst themselves, some of it centered on their return but he could clearly hear Steve's worried whispers and Widow's questioning hums.

"It's his arm."

A new voice broke the forray effortlessly despite being quiet. And though quiet, this woman, this Gene, captured the attention of the group.

"His arm? But.. Bucky doesn't.." Steve trailed off confused, shooting James a questioning glance. He shook his head.

"His arm is gone but the port isn't. It's probably made of a heavy metal."

James cast a scrutinizing look to her but again, her face was mostly obscured by the ratty hood, her height making it easier to conceal her form.

Tony nodded suddenly, "Actually, yeah. Just wave him through, Jay, don't worry about it." The man said, flapping a hand carelessly.

A small dawn of comprehension crept across both James' and Steve's faces. Crossing through the scanner with no more trouble, the group set off down a brightly light corridor.

"This looks different," Natasha remarked, finally acknowledging Tony's existence. James stayed to the back still, cautiously treading, kneading at his shoulder port as it began to ache. The stress of the trip alone had him wound up and feeling like a hairspring would trigger him- if he were a desert eagle with a bullet in the barrel.

"Mhmm mhm, like I said. Lots changed. Anyway, here-" Tony stopped, indicating with an impassive face. Behind him a positively ginormous window bay took up a good fifty feet of the wall. "-is the employee rec centre. You're all free to use it but there is another one in the Centre Block, and a third in the East Wing. It's mostly intel and tech staff who use this area but their Donburi restaurant is to die for, so if you don't feel like cooking just grab one. It's all paid for."

Unimpressed gazes scrutinized the large hall but no one said anything. Only a few employees inhabited the area, eating in small clusters.

Without a word, Tony moved on, quickly showing them the public Med Bay, library, tech control room, and general area gym before they hit a security block. So far they hadn't seen anyone and it was almost eerie. But James didn't know what to expect. Should it be bustling with life? Or was the compound vacant, waiting for the original team to reconvene? Everything was so foreign and abstract, his head began to pound.

"Aight, listen up." Tony turned to face them fully for the first time, although he didn't remove his glasses and the almost inconvenienced expression never wavered. "This here is a Deadlock Passage. You need clearance 5 or above to pass through, and the further you go the higher the clearance. You are all level 7. All you need to do is present your keycard," he held up a thin white card that closely resembled a credit card, "And hold it up to the scanner. If for some reason the scanner isn't working just slide it in the reader. Capiche? Great."

"I don't remember that being here," Natasha quietly remarked, smiling softly at Tony. Immediately the Soldier scoffed, and James nearly did, too. The Widow was always looking for something. Always has an agenda.

Tony didn't even twitch. "I know, right."

The door slid open with a hiss, revealing a starkly different interior. Replacing the beige and white walls and harsh slate concrete floors was an intimidating deep blue. The linoleum flooring looked so inky it could have been a galaxy, and for a moment, they were mesmerized. Soft gray walls branched off in four different directions, and a glistening row of elevators lined up before them.

"You are now in the Centre Block," Tony intoned. James suspected the man didn't want to be here. In fact, he had probably been roped into doing it by the newly founded World Defense Council (WDC). And to be fair, James thought with a cold flash in his stomach, why would he? Steve and himself had bludgeoned the man little more than a year ago. "From this lobby you can reach the East, West, and North Wings by following their respective corridors. There are signs. This bank of elevators will take you to the basement levels or to the upper floors, which you will be shown later."

"Christ," Clint muttered. "Do you even want to be here."

"No," Tony deadpanned. "Do you?"

Clint spluttered for a moment, growing redder and redder, but Tony never gave him a chance to lash out, swiftly leading them away. Soon, after trekking down varying corridors- "He's trying to confused us," the Soldier murmured - they arrived in a truly quiet portion of the compound. Squashed into a small alcove, the disjointed group were faced with a heavily fortified black doorway.

"This is the entrance to the East Wing. There are two more entrances, one from the Upper East Wing and one from the North Wing. They are all the same. There is no clearance requirement as only select individuals may enter. That is you all, Vision, Gene, James Rhodes, and myself. You merely swipe your card and that's it. FRIDAY, my AI, can also grant access to the Wing should the situation require it. Say hello, FRIDAY."

James jumped violently, to his retrospective horror, as a disembodied voice filled the room. It seemed to come from every direction, even leeching from the walls. His first instinct was to plaster himself against the wall in a crouched fighting position, but thankfully he managed to remain standing, even if his sudden startle had frightened Steve.

"Hello. I am FRIDAY. I am here if you need anything," came a lilting Irish voice.

Gene snorted quietly, muttering to Tony, "Bit snippy today."

Gene. Accent. Unknown origins. Close affiliation with Anthony Edward Stark. Caution advised. Assessment pending.

"I missed her voice," Steve said, although it came out as more of an awkward offer. Tony remained expressionless, didn't even say a word.

"Anyway, this is also a Deadlock Passage, but it is reinforced. Unless a nuke hits the doorway head-on, no one who shouldn't will get through. So, here are your cards," he nearly threw the stack of them all tangled in lanyards at Steve, "And get settled. FRIDAY will direct you to your individual rooms. A charged Starkpad, the Accords, and anything else you'll need will be there. Okay. Great."

And abruptly, startlingly, Tony simply slid between them all and charged off, disappearing around a corner seconds later. An awkward, pregnant silence filled the air, before Steve came to and cleared his throat.

"Uh, okay, let's see.." Steve fiddled with the lanyards, slowly pulling them apart.

"FUCK," Clint burst, tense and red, and all sorts of angry. Beyond the pounding of James' heart, the snarling of the Soldier, and his rapidly approaching anxiety attack, James could easily read the exhausted frustration on the archers face. "He's such a fucking asshole. Could barely stand to be in the room with us. It's like he knows he's a scumbag!"

There were murmured agreements, all from Widow, Witch, and the Falcon. Natasha tenderly wrapped an arm around the man's shoulder, murmuring words of comfort. "Stark isn't like us, but he'll come around. We're home now, aren't we?"

"Maybe you are," Clint trembled, "But I'm not. And it's because of HIM."

Gene cleared her throat, lips pursed. "How about I let you in and you can go get fixed up?" Swiping her card, the door wooshed open and she disappeared into the hallway.

James and the rest followed, his mind a haze, and somehow he found himself in his room. Sliding down the wall as his breath caught in his throat, panic bubbled up. Hysteria gripped him as the world went black.

Rhodey pinned Tony with an angry glare. "Really? Really?"

"What, Platypus?"

"You told FRIDAY to keep their arrival from me. Serious, Tone, we had an agreement."

Tony shrugged, "Dunno what you're talking about."

Wheeling himself around the desk, Rhodey smacked his chair against the inventors legs. "Dude, don't shut me out."

Tony let out an unbecoming grunt and threw his hands in the air. "What?"

Rhodey breathed deeply, bracing himself. Even though he knew Tony was only trying to protect him (which was touching, really) it still irked him. "You know I don't blame you."

"Yes, I know you don't blame me!" Tony shouted, finally losing his composure. "And fuck, Rhodey, I don't blame myself anymore either. I get it, okay? But that doesn't make it okay. None of this is okay. You're- ah, you're in a wheelchair most of the time, and I walked away after a week in hospital. Those PEOPLE," he jabbed an oily finger at the ceiling "Up there have no idea what they have done. And now they're in our home, walking free. They don't know what I-WE have had to do to get them pardoned, the SHIT we went through, and-and-"

"Jesus, Tony, breathe." Rhodey lay a careful hand on the genius' shoulder, feeling the shuddering breathes wracking the man. "Just let it out."

So he did. Dry sobs shook his body, tearing away his earlier aloof composure.

Tony could barely breathe. The past six months came crashed down on him like a freight train, baring the same weight he had felt all those years ago when he saw the helicopter in Afghanistan. Yet it didn't bare the same odd relief, and it didn't reassure him that there would be another way out.

"I don't want them here," he choked into his hands. Rhodey grimaced out of pain for his dearest friend. "But if we don't have them here I just know something will go wrong. I can't explain it but it's been weighing on me since New York. Something is coming, Rhodey," Tony felt his mouth run ahead of himself, blathering fears he had held tighter to his chest than his reactor, "And I shouldn't be scared- I'm not really, not for me- but I can't sleep. I don't know when the last time I slept was because every time I so much as blink I can feel space closing around me and that fucking ship in the distance just gets closer, and closer."

"Tony."

"And I know I can stop it. God, I know I can prevent whatever the fuck that thing was behind it, but-"

"Tony."

"But it feels like the bigger threat is making its nest on the first floor of this awful compound."

"Tony!"

Gasping upright, Tony finally looked at Rhodey. The colonel looked aged and grim in that moment. "Why didn't you tell someone?" He spoke slowly.

He simply floundered, speechless.

"You know we're here for you," Rhodey pressed on, nudging his wheelchair closer until he was almost in the billionaires lap, "Me, Gene, Stephen, and Pepper. Whatever we can do, we will. I got you."

Nodding quietly, Tony could do little more than lock eyes with his feet and wonder how it had all come to this.

Had he wronged some god when he cheated death in that cave? Was this recompense for Stark Industries' weaponry? For his indulgent lifestyle or something else he had once spared little thought to? Or did it go all the way back to Howard, to his birth?

From the moment that bomb had landed next to him in the desert, some primal and instinctive part of him he had thought long dead sparked to life. It coiled in his stomach with more than the promise of pain, but with some ominous hint of the future.

Had he known what was to come he could not honestly say he would have tried so hard in the cave. Perhaps he would have, and made sure Yinsen lived, but then nobody would have to know how long he simply lay in the sand dunes and waited for death.

Maybe it was true, about the butterlfy effect and time lines and string theory and all that mojo magic bullshit.

But even through the fear and lingering anxiety, he felt such rage. Some days it was quiet, soothed by FRIDAY and Rhodey and Gene, but other times the smallest sounds or movements would ignite the rage until it engulfed him.

When that happened he would seal himself away for weeks at a time in the lab, toiling and building horrible weapons. Sure, he had washed his hands of the arms trade. But he had never said he would stop building them. Because how could he? Everyone wants him dead at best, and at worst he'd probably be shackled to a desk and forced to help HYDRA or Loki or who-the-fuck-ever to take over the world.

So when he couldn't open his mouth for fear of threatening even his closest friends, he quietly made sure nobody else could do so either. He had discretely spent billions on a new arms trade- his own -and stockpiled what he felt could ensure Earth's survival.

Surely that was retribution for his sins?

"I got you," Tony repeated, smiling weakly at Rhodey's deep set frown. "We got this."

Maybe.