#allthemarvelousrage

“Is it?”

Tony made an exasperated noise, shifting against the wall, tilting his head back and staring at the intricately curved black metal bars topping the brick. The clouds up in the sky were moving quickly, grey and promising rain within a few hours.

“You better be faster than this stupid storm,” Tony muttered.

“You look good wet,” Bucky mused.

Tony made a mental note to kick him later for that.

“If I have to sit around this wall and disrupt the cameras for too much longer, people are gonna start asking questions.”

Bucky scoffed. “If someone gets nosy, just shoot ‘em.”

“Shoot them?“ Tony demanded.

“Politely,” Bucky suggested, and Tony burst out laughing.

“What, isn’t that all that matters to people around here? You can do whatever underhanded dirty shit you want, so long as you’re polite about it.”

“You’re not wrong,” Tony muttered, and was proud it only came out a little bitter.

It was quiet for a bit, and Tony brought out his phone to play around with Snapchat filters to kill the time.

“Are you really worried about timing on this?” Bucky asked unexpectedly.

Tony paused, considered it, and admitted, “Little bit. Longer I hang around the more likely someone gets curious or suspicious. Or the higher the chance that I get recognized.”

“Sugar, you don’t look much like you did when I first met you, I doubt any of these assholes are going to realize who you are.”

“You’d be surprised.” Tony glanced around but they’d picked their time carefully. Lots of these people were down at the country club celebrating how important they were together with a very well paid for politician. They had the time, and they had the smallest chance of being noticed as Tony could get them.

“Okay, just the office,” Bucky said.

“Door’s boobytrapped,” Tony reminded him. He realized he was biting at his thumb nail and yanked his hands down into his pockets.

“I got it.”

The next seventeen minutes of quiet was nerve-wracking as hell for Tony.

But then - “Okay, making my way out, sugar. Be ready in twenty.”

Tony focused on keeping his breathing even and his posture from showing his anxious nerves. Close, they were so close -

The roar of Bucky’s motorcycle coming around the corner made him break into a grin. He shoved off the damned wall, stepped up to the curb just seconds before Bucky pulled to a stop. He held out Tony’s helmet, and Tony yanked it on, sliding onto the back of the bike and curling his arms around Bucky’s waist. The backpack between them went flat, with only a slight noise from inside.

Bucky peeled away, and Tony tucked his face down.

It was another thirty minutes before Bucky pulled over at a motel and they both slipped off. Tony went inside to get them a room, Bucky following not a minute later, hand settling on Tony’s back. They didn’t say anything until they were in the room, door locked.

Bucky dropped the backpack on the bed.

“Right where you said they’d be.”

“He’s always stuck with what works, instead of changing things up as often as he should. Not always adaptable, which makes no fucking sense,” Tony grumbled.

He opened the backpack, pulling out five different blueprints - his name on them. There’d used to be eight, four years ago.