#boxofscrapssoldseparately

“Can we see papa today?”

Darcy Lewis: I'm not the hero it wants, I'm the hero it deserves

"Shit," He murmured under his breath. His flesh hand covered the bleeding hole in his side, pressing the thin fabric of his sweatshirt against it in an attempt to slow down the bleeding. In a day or so, the wound would be fine, but as of right now, he was losing a lot of blood. Bucky's breathing was ragged as he forced himself to put one foot in front of the other when all he wanted to do was collapse on the ground and sleep. He stumbled, nearly falling into a trash can at the edge of the street, but managed to catch himself with a bloody hand. "Fuck." A wave of nausea threatened to expel all he had managed to eat in the last three days, but he choked the acid down and moved towards the lit house. While stumbling through the dark streets, metal arm inoperative, Bucky was an easy target for HYDRA. Earlier that evening, they had sent operatives to bring him back, but the result was bloody. He had fought them off with the last of his strength, and they had shorted out his arm before the last of them had died. Now, he was about to pass out with a hunk of metal attached to his side that dragged him down, and a bullet hole in his side. There was only one person that he could think of that could help him, and while he didn't want to ask for help, Bucky knew he wouldn't make it out alive if he was alone. He stepped towards the Stark Tower that dwarfed him in comparison, groaning at the thought of having to reach the top floor in this state on his own. Bucky slipped into the building silently, aimed directly for the elevator and ignored any looks thrown at him; as long as he was found before he was dead, Bucky didn’t care how many people saw him. As soon as he entered the elevator, he aimed for the highest level floor it could take him; Bucky's hand smeared blood against the closing doors and glowing button and as soon as he heard the chime ring, he let out a heavy sigh and passed out on the floor of the metal box.

"Uh… Tony—or, Mr.—Ms.?—Stark, I…” Oh, god. One foot in the door and you have already so fucked this up, Darth Kate-r. It should not be so hard to talk to an Avenger; you talk to Clint every day. “I am so sorry, I have no idea how to, uh, address… do I need to be formal, here, I—wait, can I just start over and pretend I didn’t make a trainwreck of this? I just… Clint said something to me the other day, and I wanted to… ask about it.”

[text; mr&ms stark] hah, no [text; mr&ms stark] im pretty sure he wears his au naturale every day save the braids

[text] i forgot all about that anyway.[text] where you been?

[text] Toni! Jeeze, cut it out! [text] you're not drunk are you? [text] are you drunk?

IronHawk wedding for box-of-scraps-sold-separately~