@opcnhighwaymind liked for a starter from Tony -> Bucky
It was strange, the things that changed after you stopped dying.
For one, silence got louder. The world got heavier. And Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, walking contradiction, found himself obsessing over ghosts he used to rage against.
He hadn’t planned on calling Barnes.
Hell, if you’d told him five years ago that he’d willingly share air with the guy who’d killed his parents, he’d have laughed in your face and then built something specifically designed to punch yours.
But now?
Now the edges were blurred.
He told himself it was about intel. Leftover Hydra tech moving through black-market channels, designs too close to both their ghosts for comfort. That was the excuse. The truth was murkier.
He’d been staring at the old footage again.
And instead of hate, all he’d felt was- God, he didn’t even have a word for it.
When the doors of his lab slid open with that signature hydraulic hiss, Tony didn’t turn right away. He just exhaled, adjusted his glasses, and muttered, “Great. My trauma comes with a metal arm and brooding silence now. Terrific.”
He finally looked up, and yeah; there he was.
James Buchanan Barnes.
The ghost of a war that wasn’t his, the weapon that broke everything, and the man Tony couldn’t seem to fit neatly into any of his categories anymore.
Bucky looked older now, more human. The lines in his face weren’t from programming. They were from living. And that alone threw Tony off balance. He expected rage, guilt, maybe even the haunted stare from the files. But this? This calm, this quiet steadiness? It made something in him twist.
“Barnes,” Tony greeted, voice flat, dry, deliberately unimpressed. “Good to see you’re still rocking the whole ‘haunted-by-past-sins’ aesthetic. Classic. Very you.”
He set down his wrench, wiped grease from his hands, and tried not to notice the way his chest tightened. “I called because someone’s been pushing Hydra-grade prosthetic schematics on the black market. Designs too close to your old arm for comfort. And too damn sophisticated for amateurs. Thought you’d want to help me track it down before some sociopath with daddy issues gives me déjà vu.”
Tony’s gaze flicked to the metal arm, reflexively, analytically, but lingered longer than it should have.
Not because of the tech.
Because of the man wearing it.
It was ridiculous, how fast his brain pivoted.
Civil War Tony would’ve had his repulsors charged, chestplate locked, finger itching for retribution.
Now, he was wondering what kind of coffee Bucky drank.
He hated that.
“You’re quieter than I remember,” Tony said, tone lighter than the line of thought deserved. “Back then you were all trigger discipline and murder-glare. Now you’re…” He hesitated, searching for the right word. “…civilized. I’ll admit, didn’t see that coming.”
His hand twitched, wanting to fidget, to move, to do something. Anything but think about why his heart was beating faster. “Look, I’m not here to dig through history. I’m done bleeding over the past. You did what you did. You were a weapon. I was collateral. The math sucks, but at least now we both understand the equation.”
The words came out steadier than he felt.
Because under the logic and sarcasm, there was something else.
The uncomfortable realization that maybe he wanted to know the man behind the headlines, the file, the footage.
And that realization pissed him off.
He forced a smirk. “So, what do you say, Barnes? You and me. Two guys with daddy issues, guilt complexes, and questionable fashion sense. We dig up some bad tech, save the world, again, and try not to kill each other in the process. Sound like a plan?”
Tony turned back to his workstation, pretending to be absorbed in the blue glow of a schematic. “Oh, and FYI? If you’re thinking of brooding in silence for dramatic effect, at least make it interesting. Maybe do the thing where you lean in a doorway and look tortured. The lighting in here’s perfect for it.”
His smirk deepened just slightly, and for once, it wasn’t armor.
Maybe it was something closer to fascination.
Because what shocked Tony most wasn’t that he could stand in a room with Bucky Barnes.
It was that he didn’t want him to leave.
