sixthiterationlogs | so goodbye yellow brick road

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so goodbye yellow brick road

WHO: Steve Rogers
WHERE: Village environs
WHEN: Mid to Late October
OPEN TO: Tony Stark + Open
WARNINGS: TBD

Domestic Agendas

[ It's been a long time since Steve lived with just one person. Five years, seventy years, a few months and some change. He tries to make himself invisible as much as possible. Lets Bucky know that he's welcome to bring over Liv and Steve will find somewhere else to be if they need alone time. He reads the books he got from Father Mulcahy and gets accustomed, for the very first time, to sharing space with a cat for more than a couple of days. Steve had wanted a pet as a child, but money and multiple health concerns had nixed that plan before it ever came to fruition. The best he could do back then was sneak scraps to the alley cats that roamed the tenement buildings and belonged to nobody.

He's getting a little better at fishing now, too. Several times a week, he makes the trip down to the river and splits his haul between himself and Bucky and the Inn. His newest project is learning how to gut and cook the things, and anyone who stops by to visit is more than likely going to find themselves at the kitchen table, talked into eating Steve's latest cooking experiment. (At least he's getting fairly decent with stews. Hanging around the Inn pays off sometimes.) ]

Great Minds*

[ Steve has been trying to avoid Tony since the incidence with the breathing problems. He's glad the guy is doing okay, but has decided that trying to mend fences any further would be like slamming his head repeatedly against a brick wall. In other words, a futile exercise that may yield results in the far future but only give himself a headache in the here and now. But he does make a point of widening his jogging ritual so that he heads by the forge twice a day - once in the early morning, and once after dinner. Just in case.

And, if Tony is paying any attention when Steve happens by, he may notice a quiet, continuous stream of useless useless you're nothing emanating from the super soldier's subconscious. ]

Tricky Treats

[ On the 24th of October, at exactly high noon, Steve is frequenting the Inn to catch up on gossip and eat a meal prepared by someone with more culinary skills than he currently has. At first, everything seems normal, but his nose starts to twitch. About a minute after that starts, and he clearly isn't able to help it, a fuzzy little rabbit tail appears in the immediate vicinity of his rear end. How embarrassing.

But not the most embarrassing. Not by a long shot. Because there are also two rabbit ears sprouting from where human ears should be. And, in the midst of the usual 'What the hell' reactions, Steve is probably going to try and slip out the back door and head for his own house. Feel free to stop him on the way and strike up a conversation. He'll be bunny-ed for a whole hour. ]

((* - if you want in on mindreading shenanigans, hmu at

anthologies and we'll discuss options.))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

You. Paying attention to you. They pulled you out of the ice, what, two weeks before the attack on New York happened?

[ Trauma's a thing and he'd scooped Bruce right up into the safety of the tower to become a person again, to live and learn and create and settle and let Steve roll right out of his life because- what? Baggage? ]

Hydra wouldn't give a fuck if he wasn't stable, of course they wouldn't dig too hard, herding him to a point when he'd swallow a bullet might not have been difficult-

[ Tony scrubs a hand over his face, mind rattling from point to point, combing back over years of red flags, of clues. Shit he noticed but didn't think twice about. Shit he let slide. ]

You've got PTSD at the very least, buckets of grief you never got the time or space to process and that's before Aunt Peg passed, a whole world of shit to try to adapt to and no one gave you any kind of breathing room we just expected you to stand up and do it, or at least function well enough that they'd have their Captain America without giving a fuck about Steven Rogers-

And I just let it happen. I never reached out, I never tried to fix anything, I never noticed something that needed fixing and that, that's why this all fell apart.

UH, a little over three. They had to be careful about the biological component during the defrosting process. I actively remember about two and a half weeks.

[ Pouring over the files of his dead friends. Not yet having the courage to get in touch with Peggy, who was having medical problems already.

I should have just died in the ice. Would have made everything simpler. At least for him. And isn't that the problem. He tends to go for the direct route. Even as a skinny little shrimp, he'd get his ass kicked because it was easier to tell some bully off than sneak around and help the situation by deception.

No, that's not just Tony's voice echoing in Steve's head. That's his actual. Voice. ]

I'm Captain America, Tony. That's what I'm supposed to do. It's okay. We don't ... we didn't talk about that kind of thing when I was growing up. You just suck everything up and walk it off.

[ Sometimes I wonder if Steve ever existed

He takes a deep breath, not quite sure how to shield his thoughts, and leans against the archway leading into the forge. ]

Tony, it's not your fault. I'm an asshole. I've always been an asshole. I break rules, don't listen to my superiors half the time. Just -- it's not your fault. I don't need fixing.

I should've died in the cave.

Were. Past tense. You Were Captain America, or did you not remember dropping the shield?

Leaving it behind, leaving me behind-

[ He clamps down on that thought and the accompanying rush of emotions before it can go anywhere that'd further damn him, how much the break broke him. He'd clawed himself back into something better before Thanos came down and really, that should've been sign enough. ]

I only ever get my legs under me to start building something good when the universe decides to yank on the rug again.

[ Every time. Every fucking time. ]

As someone that's gone through a few rounds of the trauma conga line and gotten fucking mocked for it-

Ty, Obie, Bruce, you, Rhodey, Pepper-

Walking it off and ignoring it? Doesn't fix anything. Tends to make shit worse, not sure if you noticed that clawing so hard to keep one thing because you didn't have anyone in your corner in a way that seemed to stick with you effectively broke the world we'd been building since our first rodeo.

Right. Were. I remember. It's only been a few weeks...

[ Dropped the shield, chose Buck over the damn job, and fucked everything up again.

Steve reaches up, rubbing at his chest in what is a very old gesture. It's almost like his lungs are trying to shrink. Or maybe it's his heart. Something hurts and he doesn't have the serum to keep everything in better-than-perfect shape.

And it's easier to concentrate than looking at Tony. ]

I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry. I didn't want to choose! But goddammit, when someone is holding a weapon to === Buck is my best friend. I would have been dead twenty times over. Fifty. A hundred times even before the war ever started. He was always pulling my ass out of the fire.

I got into so many fights as a kid, because I was a dumb little shit who didn't think bullies ought to get away with picking on people. And he always got me out.

He was there every time I got sick. Every time the nuns were sure this was the one. This time I'd die. He's my brother and my friend and when he's being held accountable for something he didn't have a conscious decision in.

OF COURSE I'm go--

[ He trails off, reaching up to wipe at his eyes, visibly unsettled to find tears there. He takes a shaky breath, and then another, trying to pull himself back together. Back to the seemingly unruffled soldier that most people expect. ]

Yeah. I noticed. I don't ... I'm not.

[ I don't know how to talk about this. ]

I didn't know Buck was the assassin. Or I didn't want to think about that aspect too hard. But I should have told you about HYDRA. I should have told you about the computer Natasha and I found at Camp LeHigh, the one with Arnim FUCKING Zola's brain in it.

He was the one who implied they ass ... that they killed Howard.

[ That death he hasn't fully processed yet. Or Peggy's, even though the woman is here with them in the village. ]

I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say. If we get home. If we're all alive. I'll learn to be better at communicating.

[ Miles and miles, decades of baggage, of issues, of willful ignorance because Rogers had to be fine otherwise he was a shitty person for not offering a hand. For ignoring the ways they might be similarly broken.

What support network did he have in this new world? Tony's always had Pepper, had Rhodey, had Jarvis- he gained Bruce after New York and thought- ]

I thought I'd found more, that I'd found what Rhodey always talked about- people that'd have my back, that I could trust, that would trust me but it was all very one sided, wasn't it?

[ He offered and he built and he gave and he tried, desperately, to make something good. And it wasn't enough. Not now, not ever. ]

You didn't because- I don't know. You didn't trust me enough. I'm a pretty good meal ticket but not an easy friend to have, I put more weight on us being coworkers than I probably should. That's on me, for assuming things were solid.

Hoping it meant more than just another round of people waiting for golden eggs.

You won't. [ He slips his hands into his pockets, sighing. ]

It's been years since Siberia for me, Rogers. We don't talk. The only reason I think about using that phone is something even worse comes down like I said it would. But even then, I don't see you.

[ Steve shifts long enough to sit down, still hovering in the doorway (and anyone who wants into the forge is just going to have to squeeze past his bulk), props his arms on his knees. Props his chin on top of his arms. And just thinks for a minute, making himself slow down and stop just reacting on impulse.

Something about Tony keeps putting him on the defensive and has since day one. So maybe it's time to stop compartmentalizing that. ]

I think [ Steve's voice is quiet. Measured. ] that it was something familiar in a sea of not-familiar. Something I could count on. A Stark working with the government. Except, this time, it wasn't a Stark just making weapons and highly questionable advanced tech and then sending us out. That Star -- you -- was part of the team. And that was neat.

Except it wasn't. Completely. I did something, still don't know what, to piss you off the day we met. That day in the lab. We argued about whether Fury was hiding something. Maybe I wasn't used to sharing leadership duties. I don't know. But it felt like you really didn't like me. Just kept putting up with me being around for the sake of everyone else.

Accepting that as the status quo, and not trying to find out why. That's on me. I should have pushed. And I shouldn't have taken you for granted. I'm sorry.

[ He tilts his head, resting one cheek against his forearm in order to look up at Tony. ]

What happened in the cave?

[ That's the misstep? That's where he fucked up this whole thing? The very fucking beginning- that's where it all went wrong? Because he's difficult and doesn't explain himself, adapts but doesn't bother to give anyone the cliffnotes for dealing with him and-

Fuck, no wonder he'd been standing on quicksand if it'd all been wrong from the first day. ]

...You mean in the room with an alien singularity soaked to the brim with chaos magic fucking with everyone's emotional states in what looking back is a blatant attempt to set off Bruce and bring everything down around our ears? That conversation? Where neither of us were really in our right minds?

[ It was like being just drunk enough to be an asshole more than anything else. ]

You didn't say anything to me I haven't thought to myself at least ten times over. You didn't say anything I hadn't heard from Howard. I was annoyed, yeah, but I liked you just fine. I thought-

[ He leans back against the workbench, arms coming around his torso, like he can hold the mess of his ribcage together on his own, eyes flicking from Steve to the middle distance. ]

I thought we were friends. I counted you as one. I trusted you with my tech, my home, Rogers- I trusted you with Rhodey.

[ When he left, Rhodes stepped up so they'd still have a heavy hitter- and he'd trusted Steve to work with him and keep him safe. Look where that got him.

Dealing with a straightforward question over years old trauma shouldn't be painful and yet, and yet, there's that garbled moment of mental white noise, of psychic static that threatens to overwhelm. ]

Last act of defiance, Yensin, the crack of gunfire echoing like thunder in the cave system, sand in his eyes and blood on his tongue-

don't waste it don't waste it don't waste it-

Mr. Stark I don't wanna go-

[ He jolts back to the present with a grimace, thumb digging into the soft skin of his inner elbow. A pointed shard of sensation to bring him out of that kind of fugue. ]

What, you saw the footage but didn't read up on my kidnapping?

I mean, same lab. Same staff, yeah. The one that turned out to not be so harmless. [ Seve shuts his eyes for a moment and resists the urge to slam his head against the side of the wall. Because that won't help anyone and his brain has been working without the serum for months now, a shock to the system won't bring additional clarity. Not to this. Not without talking. ] I meant the earlier conversation. You, me, Bruce.

We argued -- and yes, I'm seeing a distinct pattern in hindsight -- but as I was walking out, you said something about Howard. About how he never stopped talking ... anyway. It was your prodding that convinced me to go looking around in classified areas. And you were right. SHIELD was up to some shitty things.

[ More shitty than even he'd realized at the time. More shitty and world domination-y, and that had led to Steve dismantling what he could of the organization. By himself. Well, with Natasha and Sam and Maria and Fury's very reluctant participation. And from the sudden grimace on his face, it's only now dawning on Steve that he could have reached out and asked Tony for help.

Fuck, I'm so used to doing things on my own.

Because it had always been Steve Rogers versus the world. Only two people had ever wielded the power to get him to see reason when his Irish temper had gotten beyond his ability to control. One's been dead for decades. The other only recently came back into his life.

And he's very careful not to think about why. Not when Tony can miraculously know what's going on inside his head. The reminder about Rhodey is even more sobering. Not that he's forgotten exactly, it's just that James Rhodes isn't here, so his status is one of those compartments. Which really isn't fair. Rhodey is Tony's Bucky. Not something he, or anyone else, should take lightly. Or seem to take lightly. ]

I made a lot of assumptions. About us, that it was more of a working partnership than a real friendship. [ He stops talking for a moment and hides his face against the crook of an elbow. ] God, you even yelled at me that you weren't a soldier and I still...

I still treated you like one.

(Because that's all I do anymore. Lead. Fight. Walk everything off)

[ Maybe after this, he can go hide and quiet his mind. Objectively look at the last few years of living in the modern world. Trying to figure out where he misstepped exactly and fix it. Is he such a horrible person that--

No, this first. Something is making them talk and it's more important to listen to what Tony is actually saying. Self-loathing will happen later. He takes a breath and straightens up a little, returning his attention to the other man. ]

Saw the footage, read the reports. I'd like to hear your side, but only if it's ... I won't push. But I'm willing to listen.

[ Really listen. Like a concerned person potentially invested in the welfare of someone else. ]

Edited 2018-10-30 15:25 (UTC)

Forgive me if I'm skeptical of you suddenly giving a fuck.

[ He never did before- Tony always took it to mean he already knew and didn't find addressing it relevant. That was fine by him, it was something he lived through, something that shaped him, something that drove him to try and build something lasting out of the Avengers and even when he stepped away- it seemed like it would hold up. That it would survive without him, that it'd stand as a line of defense between the world and specialized threats.

And then Rogers tore it apart.

Why is the short sighted one the guy that's going to live long enough to see the fallout?

Well that's not entirely right. Rogers. Ross. Maximoff. Him. The UN. Zemo. He hit them where Tony couldn't possibly conceive of covering them, chipped at a link he thought was rock solid. He couldn't think around a liability that he didn't know existed.

Maybe he was negligent or willfully ignorant. Doesn't matter.

It's done. There's no coming back from that- and no coming back from what Thanos did.

He pushes away from the workbench to pour himself a glass of water from a pitcher deeper inside the forge because he needs an excuse to not look at Rogers stupidly earnest face- the same expression he read as Steve being invested. In caring. In valuing or respecting his contributions- and maybe he had, maybe he hadn't.

Didn't keep him from flipping it back around, sharpening it, and sticking it between his ribs now, did it? ]

You're not the first person I thought I could trust that's proved me wrong, Rogers. Hell, you're not the tenth. Side effect of the family business, being the smartest, richest guy in the room, etc. Everyone wants a piece. But only one other person managed to fuck me just as hard and I guess I didn't pay enough attention to that lesson. Not like I should've. [ There's no heat to it- no anger. A weary undercurrent of bitterness, but no venom. ] Obadiah Stane, kind of my father figure since Howard gave more of a fuck about your ghost than he ever did me, paid the Ten Rings to kill me.

[ He's quiet, calm, voice tellingly level as he sips from his cup, eyes on the fire. ]

Underpaid them, actually, so they held me hostage till he ponied up extra cash. My caravan and security detail full of- kids really, soldiers. People I designed weapons to protect from this exact thing, more or less, got hit by my weapons. Stane was double dealing, yadda, yadda, not something we put in the papers because it'd just be awful for the public to find this shit out.

I got hit with shrapnel, woke up attached to a car battery running an electromagnet to keep it away from my heart. Lost that first third of my lung tissue when Yensin put it in. We're not really meant to have that kind of metal shoved in our sternums. The Ten Rings wanted weapons. I wasn't going to build them. I'm not sure what was worse, really- being drowned, being electrocuted when the car battery got wet, or going into cardiac arrest when it quit running the magnet in my chest afterward.

[ when did I... ]

Never give a fuck?

[ There's genuine confusion there. He may not like Tony a lot of the time, but he's cared. The man is the son of a friend, he's a team mate. Maybe they aren't fast and furious, school of hard knocks, forever friends like Steve and Bucky are. Or Tony and Rhodes. Or even Tony and Bruce. But there's a vast difference between not being friendly, not caring, and --

and suddenly the semantics don't seem to matter.

Tony keeps talking and all Steve can hear inside his head for a full minute is white noise, a dull thum-thump thum-thump while he tries to process what he's hearing. What Tony is accusing him of. And, for that minute, it hurts so much that he forgets to breath.

Tony is right about one thing, maybe. Steve doesn't share himself easily. Never has. People have to be really determined to chip away at the shields he surrounds himself with. They have to think he's worth the effort. Steve doesn't even think he's worth the effort even half the time. Some, like Bucky and Nat, stick it out because maybe they see value where he can. And that kind of thinking left him open to manipulation by Zemo. Left him open to being one half of the duo that destroyed the Avengers.

Because Tony thinks he never cared. He does. But, maybe, not enough. Not enough to let the other man in. And, Steve suspects, from the cadence of his tone, it's too late to keep trying.

So, okay. On his own again, another friendship broken. His fault, his inaction. He'll handle it. He always does. ]

I'm sorry Stane did that to you. He was supposed to be someone you could lean on, and he betrayed that trust. And he was stupid about it.

Jesus fucking ... I can't imagine going through that. [ Getting doused with serum and growing a whole foot in a few minutes seems almost paltry in comparison. The horror on his face is palpable. Surviving an IED and then three months in a cave with next to no medical help. Christ. ] You are one of the toughest sons of a gun I've ever met. Were the doctors able to repair any of the -- nevermind. Not my business.

[ Steve takes a breath, something settling across his face. Or, rather, not settling, but absent. Even when pissed or down, there's generally a little animation to his expressions. To his voice. A little sass, a little oomph, that underlies how much he does care for the people around him. Even when he's argued with someone in their group, it's been there. That authentic affection that's carried him through a century.

Doesn't sound like it's there anymore. And there's little warmth in his gaze. ]

And I'm glad you survived. Glad you became Iron Man. You helped a lot of people. Still do, in the suit or out of it. The world would be much poorer without you in it, Tony. Look, something may come up and we'll need to talk. If that happens, you know people who know where to find me.

I think I've worn out my welcome here.

[ Steve straightens up, stepping out of the doorway proper. He's obviously preparing to leave. ]

I'm not done. That's not the worst of it, Steve.

[ First time he's said that name out loud in awhile, let alone while addressing him because- yeah. That's fucking terrible. But that wasn't the worst part. Coming back, being welcomed with open arms, seeing relief in Obie's eyes- that might've been. Tony turns, hip braced against the workbench, and while his voice is level and flat and even his eyes are anything but. Dark and cracked open, years of frustration, of self loathing because even fucking now- ]

He pulled my heart out of my chest and he's still Uncle Obie.

[ He can't detach the iron monger from the man that encouraged him to go to MIT, from the family he thought he had, thready and fragile as it'd been. How fucking neatly that parallels everything with Steve, with the Avengers- it hurts. It still hurts. He should be fucking over this and yet-

Knew better. He'd always known better and he'd tried anyway. Thought that maybe he was some kind of good enough, smart enough, kind enough to earn a spot close to Steve when that mattered to him.

More the fool he. ]

I made the arc reactor. Got myself out. Yensin...[ His lips press thin, one of the oldest wounds, one of his deepest regrets. ] Bought me time to get clear. Used his dying breath to tell me not to waste my life. I build the armor, get my shit together, etc, etc- When I figure out what's going on with my company; Obie paralyzes me in my own home. Shuts down Jarvis. And pulls the reactor out of my chest. And no, it kind of is, seeing as you've had a hand in the continuing saga of 'how the hell are we stitching Stark back together this time.'

[ It's a bit much, pulling the collar of his shirt down to show the scars. Shrapnel flecks here and there, what used to be a neat, circular ring in his sternum expanded in a few hair thin lines not entirely unlike an autopsy scar. ]

Limited lung capacity, because we're not meant to have a hunk of metal in our torso. Any time I'd take a hit to the chest it was a toss up on whether or not the struts supporting it would crack my ribs. Getting it taken out hasn't been much better- I'm on my second sternum- and it's lucky you didn't crack the casing on the reactor in Sibera, Steve. I don't know what plasma burns on a heart look like but I'm pretty sure that would've killed me- if the destabilization didn't overclock the whole thing and blow all of us up with it. So. Kudos for using just enough force.

[ He's not angry. Not anymore, not really, he gave that up awhile ago. He's tired. He's fucking exhausted with this, with the mess, with the fact that he can't be apathetic and all the fucking platitudes in the world can't stop the weary, bitter twist of a laugh. ]

And you go like that, and it's a fucking wonder how I ever assumed- did you ever mean any of it? 'I'll miss you Tony-' seriously. I never fell in line, we argued more often than not, I caused more problems than I solved- I understand keeping your meal ticket on the line but you're not that kind of manipulative. [ Romanoff is, he'd expect it of her, it was part of her job, he wouldn't take it personally. Dangle the right kind of carrot and he'll almost always come to heel. If he felt like it. ] Don't pull the Cap face on me, I hate that guy. Fuck that guy. I'm not talking to that guy, I'm talking to Steve.

[ It's too much. Just. Too much, all this information coming at him in Tony's steady, razor-edged voice. This thing about Stane, and God help him, he knows just enough about human biology to picture it (thanks serum, for giving him photographic memory) and for a minute Steve isn't sure he's not going to throw up. The shield trick in Siberia was meant to stop Tony from murdering his best friend, and Steve also knows enough about how his damn shield works, and just enough deviousness left over from a childhood spent honing his street smarts, to --

He has to close his eyes for a moment, taking slow breathes, still listening to the sound of the other man's voice. It's tempting to let everything wash over him in a wave of sound, just filter out the most important bits and figure out the rest later, but isn't that what he's been doing for the last year or so. Definitely the last few months in an attempt to prevent the totality of the situation from becoming overwhelming.

Steve makes himself listen. Which ends up maybe making things worse, because what the hell is coming out of Stark's mouth? (He has a point, of course, but there are some assumptions there that manage to push through the nausea and piss Steve off. ]

You're not my goddamn meal ticket, Tony. You make things, right? Because that's what drives you. Like Howard always made weapons and gear and uniforms for our team. Because the Army wanted him too and he liked it. I assumed -- probably wrongly as it turns out -- that you make things for the Avengers because that's what you like to do. I didn't step on Howard's toes unless things got over the line dangerous and ...

[ And there was that whole murderous robot thing, wasn't there. Maybe he should have spoken up there. Made sure Tony was alright. Really made sure.

I'm so damn tired of being in the wrong. ]

I don't want you to fall in line, I don't care if we argue seventy-five percent of the goddamn time. I don't care if you never made another fucking toy for the Avengers ever again. Even if we were still together, but we're not. And it's my fucking fault, I KNOW. Goddammit, Tony. I just wanted you to like me. Not as ... whoever the hell your father built me up as. I'm NOT him. I'm not this comic book cutout that everyone in America expected when-

I just. I -- don't know. I wanted friends. I wanted to stop being so [ -- so lonely. Steve stops, takes a breath, and reaches up to the base of a palm across his eyes, clearly attempting to calm down. He feels off balance. That, combined with his temper, and talent for pole-vaulting to conclusions outside of battle situations, is almost guaranteed to make this even worse. And he'd like to not have that happen. It takes some effort, but he keeps his voice mostly level. ] I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say right now, but that. I'm sorry I hurt you.

[ Small silver lining: at least he's not using the professional Cap persona. This numbskull is all Steve. ]

Which is why I said you're not that kind of manipulative. Romanoff would be, but aside from yanking me around during Palladium poisoning, she hadn't really bothered. But that's where I'm coming from here. [ Open, transparent communication. Bruce better be fucking ecstatic, wherever he is, that Tony is biting back every bitter thought (because not fucking helpful) and trying to listen. Trying to actively pay attention since he's misread the situation so badly it's no fucking wonder they ended up like this. ] Before...nine times out of ten. If someone cozied up to me, befriended me, dropped me like a rock and bounced? It's because they got what they wanted out of me and I was no longer useful. My entire life it's been like that.

Putting you and the rest of your crew in that category made it easier to sleep at night. Pattern established and maintained, the outlier that was having what I thought to be a group of friends, of people I could trust- which I don't hand out easily but I fucking did for every last one of you despite decades of experience screaming at me that it was a shit idea- finally proven to fall in line with the rest of the equation. You say you wanted friends, you say you wanted me to like you-

[ His shoulders drop, a twisted, sharp crackle of laughter wrenching free of him as he holds his arms wide, head cocked to the side. ] I thought we were.

I thought we were. I thought we had a solid foundation under us, I thought you trusted me, I knew I trusted you. Not because of the shield, not because of the uniform but because of you. The same reason that the kids left with you in the divorce, because they trusted you more than, clearly, they trusted me. And that's fine- honestly? It's probably for the best since you're in a very familiar hole and digging yourself out by yourself is in-fucking-possible. But, Steve? I genuinely thought we were friends.

Why do you think I was so pissed you didn't tell me anything? This- this mess here- [ He gestures between them. ] Has fuck and all to do with the accords, fuck and all to do with Bucky directly. I thought we were good. I thought we were solid, maybe not as close as me and Rhodey but- you and Bruce? Same level. And then you yank the carpet out from under me over and over-

[ That look about Klaue, Wanda, the hypocrisy of the log cutting incident, not trusting him to handle Ross not bothering to try and talk him down, not working with him at all on the accords- ]

and I kept shrugging it off because, well. Different personalities, different values, but I respected that maybe you were having a rough time of it because you were hunting for Bucky. Maybe you were having a rough time of it because Peggy was deteriorating. And then the fight at the airport, and then Siberia, and then that bullshit letter- Maybe I wasn't paying enough attention to realize you didn't think we were close. I don't know.

Edited 2018-11-11 01:12 (UTC)

It wasn't a bullshit letter. That was me trying to apologize.

[ That was Steve looking at his own motivations and recognizing it wasn't about sparing anyone's feelings but his own. Because, like it or not, he's always going to want to protect Bucky and protect himself on the subject of Bucky. Call it hubris or a sin or a flaw. Maybe it's all three. The point is that he can't be completely subjective about his oldest friend.

Steve doesn't try to explain that. Instead he listens. Keeps his mouth shut and listens, attention wholly on Tony. There's a lot to unpack here, a much of it he's going to have to turn over and examine later, in a space that's not so confrontational. Not so heavy with missed opportunities and misconceptions. And that, he thinks, is at the heart of ... this mess between them. ]

... That's close to how I felt. That you keep me around, or did, because I was useful. Because I was Captain America, the guy from all the history books. I thought -- or maybe I hoped -- that someday you'd stop making fun of me and maybe we could build something more solid. More equal. Less feeling like I was the butt of jokes that only you knew the punchline to.

[ He straightens, holding up a hand, palming facing toward Tony. ]

I said in that letter that I've never fit in. Never felt like I did. As a kid, definitely not in the orphanage, not even as an artist. I'm not great at reading social situations. That's one of the things you're better at. I just ...

I'm assuming things and you're assuming things but we haven't really talked. Have we? Not like this. And you're right, we should have. [ Steve reaches up with that same hand, scrubs it through his hair, clearly trying to find the right words. ] We can't change what's already happened. And arguing over it all the time isn't going to help. It might make me feel a little better, might do the same for you. But it won't help.

(It won't do anything but make things worse. I want to do better, even if this fails.)

So how about this. We start clean here. We talk, honestly. Even if it hurts. If I don't understand something, I'll ask. And you can ask me to clarify things too..

Is that okay?

From someone that's given and received many a sincere, insincere, and non-apology? That was a non-apology. A for effort, C minus for the execution.

[ Good golden 'you tried' star, there. It's more than he'd be willing to give but apparently sincerity isn't easy to put into the written word and- shit he knows that just as much as he knows Steve does best in person. Trying to navigate that shit with limited language or experience is a bitch and a half so-

He'll drop that. Water back under the bridge. ]

Uh. What? No. If I found you useful but didn't like you I'd never have invited you up to the clubhouse. I'd call you 'Rogers', I'd treat you with militaristic respect. Which I think is part of where the disconnect here is. Steve. Seriously- look me dead in the eye and tell me Bucky Barnes never gave you shit. Ever. I don't do sincere hand on shoulder 'to the end of the line' gestures and speeches. I don't plant my feet in front of the bulldozer of the court of opinion and tell them to fuck off. I don't treat shit that's important like it's important- I can't afford to. If people know where to aim they tend to pull the trigger more often. That habit follows me home. I give all my friends a hard time, it's what I do.

I saw all of that as poking fun. That's my humor. We can talk and try to keep the air clear but- if I meant any of it- I wouldn't talk to you. Seriously. I don't waste my time on people I don't like, I ignore them.

(Like I had been until whatever's in your head decided to scream a familiar song but, that's neither here nor there.)

Also- bullshit you didn't fit in. Chemical reaction that creates chaos or not- all our raggedy rough patches? The squiggly lines in puzzle bits? They fit together. Maybe not like the Howlies but- We worked. We fit. Or that's how I saw it. And here? Kind of easier to fit since there's less baggage all around. Or. More? Different baggage. Off brand instead of designer label.

[ He rubs the center of his chest, massaging out a phantom ache that won't ever really go away. ]

Do me a favor. You start getting in your head thinking 'useless useless useless' again? Text me. I can't make it stop but I can sing in harmony.

[ Something in that drags a laugh out of him. Head lolling down, eyes squeezed shut against a burst of pain somewhere near his head. ]

Buck has given me shit since they day we met. He's ... he has that right. I've -- look, I was a stupid little punk. Got into fights that should have killed me. And one day, this kid just waded in and took my side. And he never stopped. I don't know what I did to deserve him, but. Maybe he just likes stupid little punks.

[ It's more complicated than that, but Steve has never truly been able to put into words what Bucky means to him. Not flowery ones, anyway. It's what he told Sam and Nat during the DC incident. Even when he had nothing, he had Bucky. And clearly he's been a piss poor friend in return. But maybe that's his depression talking. The stuff he ignores and pretends doesn't exist. ]

I'm getting that now, that you poke and tease. At .. I thought it was because you didn't like me. [ And how can he describe 30's mores to someone with a modern outlook? He can't. Not really. ] I think I'm too ..uh, straightforward. For most people. I say what I think. Even when I shouldn't.

[ He finally glances back up, the smile fading. ] It's been there a long time, Tony. Doesn't leave, just gets quieter. But I'll keep your offer in mind. [ Cause God forbid Steve Rogers actually asks for help. Ever. ]

Edited 2018-11-25 05:37 (UTC)

You really shouldn't. The migraines you've given me. [ He huffs, scrubbing a hand through his hair. More than one headache had Steve's name attached, and this is...probably going to be a new one. There's still that thread, that awareness of how idiotic it would be to trust Steve again after everything.

Old habits, old baggage.

Clean slate.

He lets his hands fall away, staring at Steve for a long moment, trying to think back to any time they actually just...worked everything out. Communicated about anything that wasn't work related. ] You don't need a rope or a hand up out of this hole, Steve. You need someone that's made the climb. And I've been in and out enough to know all the shortcuts.

Yeah, I do that to a lot of people.

[ That has a ring of truth that Tony can't deny. Won't, probably, because he brought it up. Steve creates headaches and messes and makes people want to throttle him. Mostly people above his pay grade who don't want the stress of trying to corral Captain America once they realize he's not as docile as the legends would have you believe.

And he's not asking for trust. Just a truce. A clean slate. Get along enough to help the community stay in one piece. He wouldn't ask for more. ]

I'll keep it in mind.

[ Speaking of headaches. There's a certain tilt to Steve's chin now. Anyone who knew him back in the day would recognize it as his bull-in-a-china stubbornness rearing its head.

I can make it on my own.

But he unbends long enough to soften his tone. If not his resolve. ]

Thanks, Tony.

You don't have to.

[ God, is this what Rhodey puts up with around him all the time? When he gets back- when he's home? He owes him a basket or ten. Or a million apologies. As it stands he doesn't know for sure one way or the other about so many variables-

It's easier to focus on the wall of projects.

He might consider taking a few jobs from Steve.

Eventually. ]

Don't mention it.

[ Steve visible flinches, eyes narrowing and lips thinning. It's very clear he heard that. It's also clear the words mean something to him. His head is full of white static for a moment before he manages a nod.

Message signed, sealed and delivered. Doesn't mean he wont still be stubborn. ]

See you around.

[ And this time, he does make good on escape. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

so goodbye yellow brick road

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