#whothehellispatroclus

“YOU could’ve woken me up,” is what he says, quietly. “I wouldn’t have minded. Y’know that I’m always here for you if you ever need me, right?”

Tony walked through the darkened compound looking for a midnight snack as he finished his latest project down in his lab. He hummed to himself as he walked into the kitchen. He didn’t bother to flip the lights on until he grabbed his handful of snacks he had hid from the other vultures he calls the Avengers and when he couldn't quite reach his perfect (maybe too perfect) hiding spot he asked FRIDAY to turn the lights on. 

Thats when he saw good ole buckaroo sitting on the counter, he jumped and let out a colorful, “Sweet baby Jesus, Mary and Joseph- Fuck, Barnes I seriously need to get you one of those cat bells” he placed a hand over his reactor and took a deep breath. 

@whothehellispatroclus || Close || Post-Civil War 

Tony glanced around at the escort that were assigned to him and he swallowed thickly, he felt uneasy and honestly the Dora Milaje guarding him were kinda scaring him. he was used to being the center of the room, to be above everyone in status and money but at the moment? he felt insignificant and tiny and he didn’t know how to feel about that. 

He almost felt relieved when they arrived in front of a grand wooden doors and he glanced around in curiosity until the doors open and he was allowed inside. Once the door was shut he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and looked at the King who had an amused expression on his face. 

“Your Majesty, I gotta say that was some escort” His usual banter was no where to be seen as he stepped closer but still stayed a respectable distance, his fingers on his right hand drumming against his thigh in a nervous tick as he glanced around. It had been a few months since the so called Civil War and Tony was nowhere back to his usual self. The betrayal and hurt ran far too deep and he just looked exhausted, he has bags under his eyes and he just didn’t look like Tony Stark. 

The king must have sensed his uneasiness and allowed a small chuckle, “Yes, they can be a bit overwhelming. Tell me Mr.Stark why are you here?” cutting to the chase, that’s good, he could work with that. Tony thought as he nodded and took the offered seat that T’Challa pointed to, “The committee are thinking of pardons but as it stands they don’t trust them, neither do I. But I did convinced them push out one-” 

He reached down to his briefcase and pulled out an envelope, “-For Barnes” He simply said and T’Challa arched a brow and Tony continued, “There’s a catch, Barnes would go back with me and I will oversee his recovery process, of course I want to ask for your assistance, No offense your majesty but all of this technical wonders don’t really scream your name, I want to go over options and ideas. The committee wants Barnes to be fully recovered and be shown that he’s no longer a k-killer before the other pardons get pushed out.” 

It had been a few days that T’Challa claimed need for a safe awakening process, honestly when he learned that Barnes was under ice he felt anger, not towards the man but anyone who actually allowed that to happen, hasn’t he been under ice for too long? Once the process was completed and he was escorted to the lab he felt his heart race at the anticipation, his right hand reached up to tap a soothing rhythm against his reactor. 

Just seeing Barnes once again, made the memories of the bunker push forward, the sound of metal against metal. How Steve nor Barnes held back even when he did, The sight of the shield slamming down on his chest and fearing the shield had dug deep enough to damage his reactor. Not to mention the ice that began to crawl over him as the knife dug deeper into his heart. 

It’d been a dream which he’d dreamt many times before. He should’ve been used to it by now -- the fear in Bucky’s eyes, his outstretched hand, his loud, guttural scream. But Steve never got used to the dream, regardless of how many times it occurred. Fresh in his mind, he stood from his bed, shrugging on a shirt as the dream replayed in his mind, over and over again. The same routine every night.

And yet, there was a shift; so subtle, so minuscule, that, at first, Steve hadn't noticed it. With everything that had happened over the past few weeks -- Fury, dying; Bucky, alive; Pierce, dead -- Steve couldn’t wrap around his head how it could have all happened. Well, sure, he could have, but he was, quite honestly, tired. Exhausted. However, no matter how much his exhaustion tore at him, he looked for Bucky. He looked for what he could of his friend, and yet, nothing had been found.

Until now.

Walking barefoot into his living room, the blond came to a stop as soon as he saw someone standing there. Steve didn’t have to look twice to know who it was. The familiar sharp lines of the man’s face, the blue-grayness of his eyes -- those same eyes -- and, of course, the slope of his mouth told him it was Bucky. 

Before he knew what he was doing, Steve started forward, only to stop dead in the center of the room -- just a few paces in front of the other man.

“Buck?”

@whothehellispatroclus:

His whole body ached as exhaustion washed over him. He was aware of the stiff right leg of his pants where the blood from a bullet to the thigh had dried and the stab of pain in his side where he was sure a rib was cracked, but more than anything, he was just tired. He gingerly rolled over, half asleep, so he was able to look up at Natasha and offered a quick smile.“That went well.” He teased softly before letting his eyes drift closed again.

Was that not the right response? I'm well aware I'm a terrible human being. It's a miracle @whothehellispatroclus is still friends with me. Let us be honest.

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