Steve just sort of watches as the man presses the button, eyes widening as he does. “Tony what the hell.” he says in exasperation, putting his face in his hands before pinches the bridge of his nose. “It really isn’t... cheaper maybe... but it isn’t...” he lets out a long sigh. “I ever tell you that you stress me the hell out?” he asks, finally lifting his head and looking over at the other.
When the convoy that was transporting Tony Stark back to the US Air Force base in Bagram got targeted the entire world stood still. Stories (non-official) from the soldiers who had arrived first at the site described a scene nothing short of a massacre. The man assumed dead, body missing, until the Ten Rings released the hostage video. War in Afghanistan; war on terrorism was already bad. Somehow this made it worse; made everyone feel like they could be a target. Good thing? When someone that highly profiled is abducted; it’s all hands on deck. Bad thing? What was supposed to be a quick search and rescue wasn’t.
The senior officers set up a grid and had their soldiers trek through mountains systematically, starting out close to the abduction site; search caves, interrogate villagers. They sent in drones for surveillance and analysed satellite footage. Nothing. The process was slow. They were thorough; they had to be. The Afghan mountains are many and hold cave systems as old as time. There were no one giving signs of anything. The terrorists didn’t make new videos, and the civilians were as clueless as the rest of them. Tony Stark was gone.
Kandahar, where Schoonover and his devil dogs were situated, is a quite a few (near five hundred and fifty) klicks south of Bagram, were search division operated from. That didn’t mean they weren’t called in to make an effort like the rest. The marines were known for getting shit done – and people were getting impatient.
For Frank it was excellent motivation. Maria had passed a few months ago, and he’d barely been able to hold it together. He hadn’t even been there. But he’d felt her pain. Felt everything. He needed an excuse to go out, be savage – block those damned emotions, the intense void that having his everything ripped away from him left behind. Everything enhanced because of their bond of being guide and sentinel. Without Billy trying to fill some of that, he would have lost himself. Blown his own brains out. And he felt terrible about it; his kill count steadily increasing. But he was sane, they couldn’t kick him. He was effective too and was building quite the reputation.
Frank’s unit had been dropped off in the village during the night and made their way into the mountains under cover of darkness. If this in fact were where they held Tony Stark and was one of the main bases of the Ten Rings, they didn’t want them to know they were coming. The obvious way in through a narrow pass was not an option; and the guards with AK-47’s that they had taken out on either side of the valley hinted about something being there.
They had eyes on the camp, soldiers were moving into position. Billy was on the top right of the entrance; Frank on the left, the sun hot on their backs as sniper rifles set on the cave entrance. Schoonover was accounting for all the firepower that was stacked outside, he almost sounded impressed, when some of the men scurried back into the cave liked spooked rats, followed by the sound of explosions and gunfire. The ground shook. Frank readjusted his position. Men with guns took up position outside the cave; all aiming at the entrance. Terrorists, Frank assumed.
“Are you seeing this?” Billy over coms. He sounded exited. Frank had already picked up that buzzing tingle. He moved his scope from the men with guns aimed towards the entrance; and to it.
“Copy,” Frank replied, just as an iron giant emerged into daylight.
“What the fuck is that?” Schoonover murmured off to his side. Then he heard his voice over the coms; Hold your fire. If this was some new weapon that the enemy had conjured; they needed to get enough of it on tape to now how to deal with it. The terrorists weren’t, though; they loosened everything they had at that thing.
Frank felt blown away with emotion. Fear. Triumph. Exhaustion. They were too many; all too loud to grasp. It was overwhelming; immobilised him. If Schoonover wasn’t busy being amazed he’d give him a reprimand for that. Frank adjusted his grip and threw a glance at Billy – he’d never felt him that strongly before. That immense void that gnawed at him was being filled to the point where it was gone – and it was nothing like he’d felt since… Frank inhaled sharply. Counted his breaths. He needed to focus on his job.
If not for the fact that the Iron Giant was being shot at; he would have gone against orders and taken that out. The entire thing felt off; but he didn’t know why… Nor did he had time to find out. What happened next happened fast, but mayhem never sneaks up on you. The pyro from hell; an arsenal lit up and going off, making it unsafe for everyone. Frank could have sworn he felt that blaze. Through the inferno the terrorists peppered the robot with bullets; there was no way the thing would make it… Then it launched into air; through an explosion that felt god damn awful. And exiting. The ground shook as if it would open up; debris and burning bits rained down around them. Frank covered his head.
Schoonover instructed Russo to deal with surviving terrorists and a possible ambush; then gave orders to Frank and his men to capture “Whatever the hell that was.”
They moved as quickly as they could; down the mountain, onto the desert; slid on the sand – the sun unforgiving. It was too warm; Frank was layered in sweat. Just up ahead of them – bits of metal. A crash site with a humanoid form buried in the sand. Frank raised his hand and took point; signalling for them to move in slowly… Every thought he ever had stilled. The emotions he felt not his own; but easily could have been. Fear. Success. That damned exhaustion he had to push through. They heard coughing, heavy breaths. It was human then. As he got a better view of things he couldn’t believe his own eyes.
“Lower your guns,” he instructed; just as he lowered his. “Shit – “ he rushed forward, kneeled in the sand next to the figure more than half his squad had taken bets was dead.
“Took you long enough,” Tony Stark managed – before he passed out, slumped back into the remains of iron armour. And with him going unconscious; the chaos of emotions Frank had felt for the past few moments vanished.
“Shit,” Frank hissed through clenched teeth, pulled his glove off and pressed two fingers to Tony’s neck. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, then got on comms.
“Major.”
“Go.”
“Visual on Stark.”
“Repeat message.”
“We have found Tony Stark.”
“Good job, son!”
“Requesting evac.”
Schoonover had called in extraction and Frank with the other guys got to work whilst waiting for the rest of them to catch up. Getting Tony Stark and his armour dug out was the easy bit; freeing him from it took time. The man was banged up; had a glowing thing attached to his chest. No one said anything; just exchanged ominous glances.
“You alright there Frankie?”
Frank wet his lips and glanced behind him; he already knew he was coming though. Billy, carrying two beers. A rare treat. He hadn’t actively been hiding; but he was trying to get away. He’d spent the night outside one of the many hangars, side pressed against the cold wall.
“The guys are celebrating.” Billy copied his posture and leaned against the wall in front of him, squinted at him - trying to read his expression. Frank huffed and took a deep sip of his beer. The fact that it was cold should tickle his happy; but it didn’t. Oh, he wished it did; it would make things far less complicated then they were about to be. Billy was annoyed. He had been ever since his squad had joined up with Frank’s and Stark. Whatever emotion his friend was omitting, it was but a whisper of what he’d felt earlier. Frank closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. He could still feel him. Stark was in camp, undergoing medical. He was impatient. Hungry. Relieved. Annoyed. Tired…
“Hey, come on,” Billy chuckled and lay a hand on his cheek, familiar fingers tracing his jawline, drawing him back towards him.
Frank sighed deeply and averted his eyes.
“Stop that,” Billy took a sip from his beer and took a step closer; warmth radiating from him. Frank hadn’t even been aware he was cold. He just wanted to be near the source that filled his void… did he want that warmth, too? Maybe. He didn’t know.
Billy checked that they were alone and went in for the kiss. Frank turned away.
“No,” he murmured and rubbed the back of his neck.
“No?” Billy lifted his eyebrows; he’s eyes got that threatening glaze; one that could bring any man to his knees. Frank licked his lips and hesitated.
“I don’t know – “ Frank began wording an apology.
“Fuck that.” Billy said flatly. His beer bottle slipped out of his grip; his free hand pushed Frank against the wall; fingers, cold, closed around his neck, not tight enough to choke him.
“What do you want, Frankie?” Billy asked.
Frank seemed lost. And he was. Confused. They way Billy looked at him…
“That’s right.” Billy smirked, and then he took that kiss.
And as much as Frank wanted to melt into Billy; he also wanted to push him away and deck him in the face. Billy felt superior. Frank felt desired. Comforted. The first option won… And Stark? He was impatient. Hungry. Relieved. Annoyed. Tired…
...After it became clear that Bucky had no part in killing Tony’s parents, and that most of the conflict during so called ‘Avengers Civil War’ has been orchestrated by one criminal named Zemo, for the sole purpose of bringing discord between friends and weakening the heroes, Tony Stark extends a hand to both Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes. Within a few weeks, he is able to negotiate with Ross to grant the two amnesty and bring them back to the U.S, putting them in the Stark Tower for the time being. Unfortunately, Steve doesn’t appreciate Tony’s gesture as much as he probably should. Stubborn and impatient as always, he chooses to break out his friends imprisoned in the Raft on his own, regaining his criminal status. Bucky, on the other hand, remains in the tower. Though the brilliant scientist Shuri had been able to remove the triggering words from his head while putting him in cryo stasis, there still remains the problem of his metal arm - or rather what is left of it after the fight in Syberia. He’s refused a surgery to remove it, choosing pain over the nightmare of being in doctors’ hands again, but the stump keeps hurting worse and worse and Bucky is beginning to reach his breaking point...
June 23rd, 2016, New York
He was stuck.
Not only in this place, on the 20th floor of one of the tallest buildings in New York. Not only with one Tony Stark, the owner of said tower, a genius, a billionaire, a playboy (reportedly, at least), a philanthropist and the one and only Iron Man. Not only in the confines of this bedroom he’s been given, and the ensuite bathroom, which he only left at particular times during the day, when it was least likely he would come across said billionaire genius he was sharing the floor with.
No, he was also stuck in his own head, just like he had been for the past almost 3 years. Going over the memories of crimes done to him - and crimes he’s done to others. Stuck between anger for everything that’s ever been done to him, every blow, every wound, every wrong touch, and between guilt for everything he’s done, even if it wasn’t out of his free will.
But now there was a new way in which he was stuck on top of that too. Stuck in a vicious cycle of progressively worsening pain.
He’s had issues with sleeping ever since breaking free and running away from Hydra. It was in his dreams that his memories began to resurface - the good ones and the bad. He was confused at first, thought them to be nothing, just dreams his messed up and broken mind was conjuring. But after some time he began to remember during waking hours as well and those fit with the dreams like pieces of a puzzle. He had to concede and admit that both the rare moments of sweetness as well as the far more common nightmares were all things that happened to him in the past. He feared them and though he could go without sleep for a very long time, far more than a regular man, he had to sleep in the end. And it always ended with tears, be it of fear, pain or heartbroken longing. It made him feel weak and he hated it.
Now a new ingredient has been added to this already shitty mix - pain in what was left of his metal arm. Because it hurt, his nightmares were terrible, the worst moments of his life, the worst of the torture and humiliation. But when he refused to sleep, he quickly realised his exhausted nervous system was failing to cope with the severed bio mechanic nerves in the metal stump. It hurt worse and worse by the day Bucky felt more trapped than he has in 3 years.
He reached his breaking point one Thursday night. He was in bed, trying to fall asleep with gritted teeth. The pain in his arm was too strong and he wasn’t able to drift off anymore, no matter how many times he changes position or how many breathing exercises he did. There was just this constant burning in his stump, and further down where there was nothing now but his brain was more than capable of imagining it. It was beginning to be unbearable. And then it got worse.
He sat up with a surprised and pained shout, one that died down into a groan quickly, as his metal stump fritzed and sparked and the pain shot right through his shoulder and almost up to his very brain. When it passed after several seconds, Bucky let out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding. This... This couldn’t go on like that for much longer.
Bucky knew exactly what he should do - what was the only thing he could do, really. He’s been putting it off for days, avoiding Tony just as much as Tony was avoiding him. It was awkward between them, understandably so. Tony blew his arm off thinking Bucky murdered his parents. Hell, back there, Bucky was scared he might have done it - he was still recovering some of his memories, after all. But even though all of that was a lie, even though there’d been apologies that were accepted, they just didn’t know how to act around one another - so they didn’t.
But not he had no other choice. There was no one else that would help him, or that could help him, and Bucky had to grit his teeth through the possible discomfort of it and go ask for help.
He dressed and asked Friday, where he could find Tony. He’s been talking to the A.I sometimes, after asking her if he was even allowed to do so. She was a surprisingly good partner for a conversation, human enough for it to feel real, yet not quite human either which for Bucky made it easier to speak his mind sometimes. He thought it was probably a bad sign he found it easier to talk with a robot - or a program, whichever it was - than with an actual human being.
He took the elevator one floor down to Tony’s lab and knocked, even though he was sure Friday would announce his arrival as well. He looked like shit and he knew it too, scruffy, hair loose, dark circles under his eyes. He opted for a loose t-shirt and sweatpants but it couldn’t hide the obvious tension in the way he stood and moved. His metal stump was burning with pain and he was done trying to bear through it.
@getinthefunvee asked :
⤿ ❛ i wanna be wined , dined , and 69ed . ❜
roll your eyes , but there’s nothing really to it , too amused , honestly —— or , more terribly : charmed. “ two outta three is gonna have to work , ‘cause i ain’t ever really liked wine. ”
He was tired of feeling like a hunted dog. Between Steve, whose intentions were well meant, and HYDRA, who were much less so, it felt like it would be any day until one or the other found him. It only took one slip up on his part, and that would be it. One side or the other would find him, and he’d have to start answering the harder questions in life.
So when he heard the uptick in whispers around him at the café, people whispering and pointing towards the infamous Tony Stark, he wondered if this was how he was going to go--publicly, humiliatingly, and for the whole world to see. Cursing under his breath, he slapped down some change for his coffee and made a b-line towards the nearest alley, hoping he hadn’t just been caught.
@getinthefunvee said: [txt: paul revere] i got my hands on some asgardian whiskey so i hope you're ready to be red white and blacked out
[ Tony ] Please tell me you didn’t do that for my birthday.
[ Tony ] I told everyone not to make a big deal out of it.
[ Tony ] You’re not planning a party are you?
I'd like to send some love out for the blog @getinthefunvee. Ari is an awesome mun who's not afraid to talk about personal lives as opposed to just plotting. They make a connection with you, the player, not just your muse. But on that topic, their Tony is so spot on, and their writing is beautiful. Ari needs all the love because they have an awesome blog and are an even more awesome person <3