#thanksbarton

"Do you ever wonder what our lives would have been like if we were born in this era?"

Maybe the war would have been lost if not for their efforts. But if the war had been one...if they had been born in a time like this...

They were currently outside, watching a Pride parade. Such a thing would have led to protests and violence in their day. But now, men and women were freely showing their live.

Closing his eyes, he reached out and took Steve's hand.

"I'm gay, Steve. "

His heart was pounding.

Would Steve pull away.

@thanksbarton

Pain radiated through every nerve of Adam's body. How long had he been fighting before Stark had found him?

You did good kid. A year on your own after everything they did to you. You did good. But you're safe now. You're safe and I'm bringing you to your dad.

His dad?

Brock Rumlow was dead.

15 year old Adam curled up in the stretcher he had been placed on...unsure what this meant.

*** Rogers, we need to talk. After I was stuck in Siberia... I did some snooping. I needed to know what else Hydra had been up to. That's where I found out about a clone. One of you and your best Pal, Bucky. Kid is fifteen. He did a runner from Hydra a year ago when they were about to send him on his first mission. He's at the tower...if you want to meet him.

Stark waited for a reply while looking at the surveillance footage of Adam sleeping in a bed for what was probably the first time since he defected from Hydra.

[ ꜱʜᴇʟᴛᴇʀ ] ꜱᴇɴᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴄᴇɪᴠᴇʀ ᴍᴜꜱᴛ ꜰɪɴᴅ ꜱʜᴇʟᴛᴇʀ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴀ ꜱᴛᴏʀᴍ .

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃 whipping through her brown hair, the dark clouds above swelling with the promise of a torrential downpour. Still, it's unnerving for her, especially with her empathic abilities. Her instincts warring with her logic. Trust has always been a luxury she can scarcely afford, and yet, she finds herself on the cusp of placing it in a man she barely knows. He, however, claims to be an old friend of James, and she can sense he speaks from the heart, despite the deep-seated distrust that coils around her like a second skin. Her mind battles with itself, questioning if she’s making a grave mistake, if this trust will be her undoing. But then she thinks of James and the torment in his eyes, the need to clear his name, to find peace. Their bond, forged in the darkest of times, is something she clings to—she has nothing else left. It is a fragile lifeline in a world that has stripped everything else away from her. She's been used to control him, to keep him chained as the Winter Soldier, and the weight of that guilt presses heavily on her heart. Each memory of manipulating him, of seeing the light in his eyes dim under her influence, is a scar. But now, she wants nothing more than to see him free, to clear his name from the false accusations. It’s a desire that drives her, a flicker of redemption in her otherwise tainted existence.

𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙠 𝙚𝙮𝙚𝙗𝙧𝙤𝙬 𝙖𝙧𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙨, the corners of his mouth curling into that trademark Stark smirk as he reclines in his chair. His fingers drum a steady rhythm on the armrest, each tap in sync with the ticking seconds on the wall clock. He takes his time, letting the silence stretch, savoring the moment before locking eyes with Steve. ❝ Steve, you’ve got me all wrong, ❞ he starts, the words rolling off his tongue with the casual confidence of a man who’s danced this dance a thousand times. ❝ It’s not about the urge to say 'I told you so.' It's about the inevitability of it. The fact that it’s like clockwork—predictable as the sunrise. I did tell you, and now, here we are, just as I expected. ❞

Tony lets out a sigh, a weary sound that seems to echo in the quiet of the tower. He shakes his head slightly, a gesture as much for himself as for Steve. ❝ For someone who's always talking about doing what's right, you have an impressive blind spot for inconvenient truths. I laid it out for you, but you were too wrapped up in your Captain America schtick to listen. ❞ There’s an undercurrent of frustration in his voice, but also something deeper—an old, familiar ache of being unheard. Tony wonders, not for the first time, why they always seem to end up here, on opposite sides of the same battle. It’s not just about being right; it’s about the damn futility of it all. He looks at Steve, seeing both the idealist and the stubborn soldier, and for a moment, he almost envies him. Almost.

He didn’t even realize anything was wrong with what he sent until he picked up his phone to check Steve’s reply. What he wouldn’t give to have those minutes of ignorance back now. What he had intended to do was text Steve a screenshot of the movies currently playing at their favorite theater, his not subtle way of asking if he wanted to go see a movie with him soon. Not like, a date or anything. No, that would be- well it’d be nice actually- but Steve wouldn’t want that. And that was fine. 

Except he clearly clicked send on the wrong picture. The really, really wrong picture. He couldn’t even say it wasn’t him, it was full body, his face and arm were right there. God, he was going to kill Natasha for telling him he needed to have at least one naked picture like this if he ever wanted to start dating in the twenty-first century. With a groan, he forced himself to read what Steve replied, which was…interesting.

[text]: shit im so sorry i really didnt mean to send that

[text]: but…

𝙸𝙽𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙶  𝚃𝚁𝙰𝙽𝚂𝙼𝙸𝚂𝚂𝙸𝙾𝙽    ↦    ꭼꮇꮻꭲꮖꮻɴꭺꮮꮮꭹ ꮖɴꭲꭼɴꮪꭼ ꮲꭱꮻꮇꮲꭲꮪ. ( ACCEPTING ! ) 𝚂𝙾𝚄𝚁𝙲𝙴 𝚂𝚈𝚂𝚃𝙴𝙼 :  @thanksbarton​​​  𝙵𝚄𝙻𝙻  𝚃𝚁𝙰𝙽𝚂𝙲𝚁𝙸𝙿𝚃   //    ❛  TELL ME HOW I CAN FIX THIS ... 

      𝖳𝖮𝖮  𝖬𝖴𝖢𝖧  𝖮𝖥  𝖠  𝖢𝖮𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖣  𝖳𝖮  𝖲𝖠𝖸  𝖶𝖧𝖠𝖳  𝖭𝖤𝖤𝖣𝖲  𝖳𝖮  𝖡𝖤  𝖲𝖠𝖨𝖣 ...  to  verbalize  that  which  should  be  said  ( should be done. )     those  cruel,  vicious  words  that  stem  from  the  deepest,  darkest  pits  of  his  tattered  soul.  the  retort  comes  to  almost  immediately  -  a  spray  of  hot  blood  staining  the  walls  of  his  mind.        it  resonates   -   the  vicious,  spiteful  suggestion  -  from  the  withered  lungs  of  a  FERAL  beast  chained  to  his  core.  it  is  hard  to  believe  that  anything  could  survive  pushed  so  far  down ...  the  pressure,  lack  of  light   ;;   all  those  layers  of  compacted  ice  and  thick  scar  tissue  built  around  him.    —  but  there  it  is ...  however  faint,  it  CARRIES,  echoing  from  deep  inside  the  chasm  -  and  if  it  has  managed  to  rise  to  the  surface,  that  means  only  one  thing :  his  wretched  soul  is  SCREAMING,  rigidly  convinced  he  knows  exactly  what  captain  america  can  do  to  FIX  the  situation.     

                                 𝐻𝑂𝑊  𝐷𝑂𝐸𝑆  𝑂𝑁𝐸  𝐻𝐴𝑁𝐷𝐿𝐸  𝐴  𝑅𝐴𝐵𝐼𝐷  𝐷𝑂𝐺  ?    

      resonating ...  a  whisper,  a  plea.   there  is  a  violent  disparity  erupting  at  his  core,  splintering  him  apart  -  but  it  does  not  matter.     regardless  of  what  he  feels,  what  he  thinks,  what  he  believes  -  this  moment  or  the  next  ;;  whether  he  agrees  or  disagrees  with  the  man,  the  soldier,  the  coward,  the  machine  or  the  monster ...             choice  is  IRRELEVANT  and  something  he  has  not  been  privy  to  for  a  very  long  time.  stringent  programming  is  a  chokehold  around  his  throat  and  the  words  die  on  his  tongue.   he  swallows  the  advice  down  and  holds  his  breath  until  there  is  only  silence   -   and  the  cold  apathy  of  the  trained  soldier.

     steve  rogers  had  risked  his  own  neck  to  secure  the  asset  away  from  the  looming,  watchful  eyes  of  the  world.  away  from  the  governments  and  their  squabbling  politics,  away  from  the  jaguars  of  wakanda,  away  from  the  tendrils  of  hydra  reaching  up  from  the  murk,  away  from  zemo  -  whoever  the  hell  he  is.  there  is  still  blood  on  his  hands  from  his  RAMPAGE.    he  side - eyes  the  vice  clamped  down  on  top  of  his  metal  arm  and  sees  the  crimson  specs  seeped  into  the  grooves.     how  many  people  did  he  kill  this  time ?     steve  sounds  stern,  composed  and  yet,  every  so  often  there  is  a  flicker  of  emotion  which  threatens  to  crack  through.  DESPERATION.   tell me how i can fix this.  how  did  they  ensure  this  never  happened  again ?         eliminating  the  obvious ...   the  soldier  sighs  and  looks  down  to  the  grimy  floor  at  his  feet.      

     ❛  he  -  he  had  a  manual.  ❜   the  man  swallows  and  releases  the  air  burning  in  his  lungs.   ❛  instructions  on  how  to  -  activate  the —   ❜  he  trails  off,  pausing  for  a  beat  before  continuing.   ❛  i  don’t  know  how  he  got  it  or  how  he  managed  to  decode  it.  or  how  it  even  survived  the  liquidation.  ❜  he  lifts  his  head,  focusing  on  the  captain  with  blank  eyes.   ❛  he’s  not  hydra  -  i  don’t  think.  i  didn’t  recognize  him  but—  ❜   he  scoffs,  but  there  is  no  humor  in  the  sound   -   only  DERISION.     ❛  my  mind  ain’t  exactly  the  most  reliable  of  sources.  ❜    

                                                HOW DO THEY FIX THIS ? 

     ❛  we  need  to  find  out  who  he  is.  what  he  wants.  why  he—  ❜   a  pause.   ❛  if  he  has  the  manual ...  i  can’t  be  near  him.  it’s  too  dangerous.  ❜    above  all  else,  zemo  could  not  be  allowed  to  get  close  enough  to  use  those  words  again.    the  whispers  begin  to  rise  again,  tickling  the  corners  of  his  dark  mind.  the  suggestion  tempts  his  tongue  once  more ...  begging  to  be  released.  

                                  𝐻𝑂𝑊  𝐷𝑂𝐸𝑆  𝑂𝑁𝐸  𝐻𝐴𝑁𝐷𝐿𝐸  𝐴  𝑅𝐴𝐵𝐼𝐷  𝐷𝑂𝐺  ?      

                                                   𝐶𝑂𝑊𝐴𝑅𝐷                                                        𝐶𝑂𝑊𝐴𝑅𝐷                                                                     𝐶𝑂𝑊𝐴𝑅𝐷