Sentimental echoes (cynical with doubt)
Title: Sentimental echoes (cynical with doubt)
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Pairing: Steve/Tony, Tony & Bucky
Rating: safe
Warning: none
Wordcount: 1803
Note: partecipa a #WRPG @ maridichallenge per i prompt "forgia" e "matrimonio".
Summary: "Give him the damn ring, Tony. He'll be beside himself with happiness, I promise you."
Tony was talking with one of his bots when Bucky was let in his workshop by JARVIS. His arm was making strange whirring noises since the last mission, and he wanted checked it out, but he didn't want to interrupt, so he just stayed near the door, waiting for them to finish.
"You know I don't mean it when I say that I'm going to give you away, DUM-E," he was saying, in a surprisingly soft tone, while the bot's claw clenched sadly. "It's just that you cannot keep doing all this mess while daddy's working, okay? If we're playing, that's fine. But I have a job, and my job is to make stuff. So when I'm making stuff, I cannot play with you guys. It's dangerous for everyone. If you're bored, just play checkers with JARVIS, okay?"
The bot whirred, moving his only arm like a nodding gesture.
"Good. Now run along, I have to help out Sarge here," Tony said, straightening his back and nodding at Bucky in the doorway. DUM-E rolled away, buzzing loudly. Bucky didn't spend much time with the bots, but he found that he sounded offended. Tony rolled his eyes at it, and turned to smile at Bucky.
Bucky smiled back. When Steve had brought him at the tower, he had been wary of Tony. He had shared his father after all, and he had killed his parents, even if he didn't remember. He really hadn't known what to expect from him. Anger, maybe. Hate.
At fist impact, Tony Stark had been loud, quick, smart, curious and utterly unafraid of him and of his metal arm. He just kept asking questions about everything, about the war, about the soviets, about his arm, about his brain, about his memory, about his preferences in bed and at the dinner table. He continuously pushed him outside his comfort zone without actually triggering violent reactions, and months later Bucky had recognized that he had needed someone who didn't treat him with kid gloves.
It had taken a while to understand that the banter and the teasing was Tony's way to let him know that he cared and that he wanted to help. And it wasn't even because Bucky was his boyfriend's best friend: it was just that underneath the façade of the genius, playboy, billionaire, philantropist, Tony Stark was a big softie, and a great person to get on well with.
"So," Tony said, "Is there something wrong with your arm? JARVIS mentioned that you needed my help."
"Yeah. It keeps whirring like a fucking overheated laptop. It doesn't really feel hot or anything, it's just very fucking annoying," Bucky explained, pointing at this shoulder. He was wearing a sleeveless top just in case, though.
"Ok, let's get the bench and then we'll get a closer look, okay? Maybe something inside got knocked loose during the last battle or whatever."
Bucky nodded, and helped him dragging the heavy padded bench that Tony kept in his workshop especially for Bucky's arm maintenance. He used to have a chair, but it gave Bucky nightmares even if he was doing a lot better with the flashbacks, so they switched it for the bench. It was slightly uncomfortable during complex procedures, like major upgrades that required to remove the whole arm, but for quick fix ups it was perfect.
Tony grabbed his tool holder, sat down and unrolled it over his lap. "Okay, shirt off. Can I touch? Does it hurt anywhere?"
"Go ahead. As I said, it doesn't feel damaged, but the ventilation system shouldn't be this noisy, right? I mean, I'm not an expert but I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to be able to hear myself think, at the very least," Bucky said sitting down, watching Tony's calloused hands going to press gently around the joint as soon as given permission.
"Excuse me, did you say thinking?" Tony teased, with a mock-perplexed frown. "I've always thought Steve was the brain and you the brawn, have I been wrong for all these years?"
Bucky swatted him on the leg with his good hand. "Asshole. You're the brain, Steve's the brawn."
"And you?" Tony asked half-distractedly, pushing a screwdriver between his teeth to free his hands. Gross.
Bucky grimaced, and took the tool. "I'm the fucking common sense, since it looks like we're seriously lacking around here," Bucky concluded, waving the screwdriver at him, slightly damp with drool. Seriously gross.
Tony shrugged and kept working, his eyes focused on the delicate wiring inside the prosthetic and his mouth running freely and randomly, keeping up the easy chatter to making Bucky at ease.
Half an hour and several tools scattered all over the bench and the floor after, the metal arm was back together in one piece, cool and quiet as usual.
"It was just a loose screw in a sensible place," Tony explained, wiping at the arm with a soft cloth until it gleamed prettily. Bucky didn't really care if his arm was full of oily fingerprints or whatever, but Tony genuinely appreciated its chromed look, and got bitchy if he didn't get to polish it to a shine every time he gave him a fix up, so Bucky humoured him. It made him feel like he was a car and not a person, sometimes, but he knew that Tony didn't mean anything bad with it. Bucky sometimes had the impression that the fact that he was part machine was one of the reasons Tony was so at ease around him.
"But," Tony continued, getting up and stepping away so Bucky could get dressed again, "There's also some slight and absolutely unnnoticeable denting in the plating, here and there. It doesn't compromise the arm's functioning, but since I noticed, the more I look at it and the more it pisses me off. But I'm fixing that next time. You're due for an upgrade, anyway."
"Upgrade?" Bucky asked, curious, standing up.
"Yeah," Tony said, gathering his tools back into their holder, "We're going software. I'm working on a new whole code that should be able to actually interface with the- well, it's a bit fuzzy still, but Bruce thinks we're on the good road to give you at least a bit of tactile sensation back, and-"
"That's bullshit," Bucky blurted, completely taken aback.
Tony stopped dead in his tracks. "Your shirt is bullshit. Is that a Nicki Minaj quote?" Tony fired back nonsequitur, gesturing at Bucky's top with the tool holder, now rolled back into its original shape.
"Wait, are you serious?" It sounded like science fiction. Bucky liked his arm, right now. It was lighter, more efficient than it was when he was with HYDRA, and Tony had promised to keep making it better and better. But making him able to touch again with both hands was completely over his expectations.
"Like a heart attack, honey," Tony answered smugly, punctuating his words by slamming the tool holder on the desk. Something got in the way, and was promptly knocked off the desk and sent fying across the workshop.
"Fuck," he heard Tony mutter somewhere behind him while Bucky bent down to pick it up. It was a small square box, brown and smooth. It had a very familiar shape, but for a moment Bucky couldn't say why. Then something clicked into place, and looked up at Tony, who was standing frozen and unsure a few steps away, in the middle of the workshop, wringing his hands.
"Look," Tony started, "it's nothing. I just-"
"Tony, is this a ring?" Bucky asked, bluntly.
Tony flinched, but didn't speak. He looked at loss for words, and wasn't that something?
"Is this for Steve?" Bucky went on, more gentle, because Tony looked like he had just swallowed his tongue, and was looking everywhere but at Bucky, posture and body language closed off and distant, but the question made him snort.
"Sorry to disappoint you, Barnes, but I don't like you that way," he quipped, flatly. "Can you just give it back and then we forget about it, please? I felt pathetic enough while I was in the fucking forge waiting for the metal to set without anybody witnessing- hey don't-"
Bucky opened the small case, and looked at the ring nested inside. It was a simple silvery band, glossy and smooth in its tiny bundle of white silk. He touched it gently, almost reverently, and then tapped it with a nail. It gave an unreal, argentine, familiar ring.
"It's vibranium, isn't it," he whispered, offering the small box back to its owner.
"…Yeah," Tony admitted, reaching to take it. Bucky noticed he was trembling. "Vibranium-gold alloy, actually. I was working on some new alloys to use for microchips and-" He stopped, and stuffed the box in his pocket. "Look, I don't want to talk about it, okay? It's not like I'm ever asking him to- you know."
"Why not?" Bucky asked. "You've been together since like, forever."
"Said Steve's best friend from the actual fucking Forties," Tony muttered darkly.
Bucky chuckled and cuffed him on the shoulder. "You know what I mean. You've been an item since before I came back, anyway. You love each other to bits, and you're so disgustingly cute together, that everytime I walk in on the two of you flirting I need to punch something afterwards, to feel manly again." That got him an embarrassed, tentative smile.
"Cuteness aside, I know you're both serious with each other, Tony. I've never seen Steve more taken with someone before," he continued. "It would make sense if you decided to get married."
Tony flinched at the word. "I'm not… husband material, James," he sighed. "I'm barely boyfriend-slash-partner-slash-whatever-you-want-to-call-it-when-you're-over-forty material, I cannot do this to Steve."
"You cannot make him happy?" Bucky countered. He didn't want to be mean, but sometimes Tony needed to be pushed. He had seen the asshole falling over himself over taking Steve's hand in public, once, like the two of them banging was some well-kept secret, for Christ's sake.
"As a matter of fact, I can't. I still don't know what the hell Steve sees in me," Tony replied bitterly.
"I don't know what he sees, but I see a good man," Bucky said, honestly. "I see a man who cares. And I know Steve well enough to know that he digs that."
At that Tony looked up at him with wide eyes, like it was some shocking notion. "I'm not a good man, James."
"Well, good enough for him, anyway," he answered, clapping him on the shoulder. He pretended not to see Tony blinking away the slight wetness in his eyes. "Give him the damn ring, Tony. He'll be beside himself with happiness, I promise you."
Tony nodded, speechless again. "Fuck. Thanks, James. I'm serious."
"You're welcome. Now stop being ridiculous and get back to work, I want to know what it feels like to mock-strangle that boyfriend of yours again."
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Pairing: Steve/Tony, Tony & Bucky
Rating: safe
Warning: none
Wordcount: 1803
Note: partecipa a #WRPG @ maridichallenge per i prompt "forgia" e "matrimonio".
Summary: "Give him the damn ring, Tony. He'll be beside himself with happiness, I promise you."
Tony was talking with one of his bots when Bucky was let in his workshop by JARVIS. His arm was making strange whirring noises since the last mission, and he wanted checked it out, but he didn't want to interrupt, so he just stayed near the door, waiting for them to finish.
"You know I don't mean it when I say that I'm going to give you away, DUM-E," he was saying, in a surprisingly soft tone, while the bot's claw clenched sadly. "It's just that you cannot keep doing all this mess while daddy's working, okay? If we're playing, that's fine. But I have a job, and my job is to make stuff. So when I'm making stuff, I cannot play with you guys. It's dangerous for everyone. If you're bored, just play checkers with JARVIS, okay?"
The bot whirred, moving his only arm like a nodding gesture.
"Good. Now run along, I have to help out Sarge here," Tony said, straightening his back and nodding at Bucky in the doorway. DUM-E rolled away, buzzing loudly. Bucky didn't spend much time with the bots, but he found that he sounded offended. Tony rolled his eyes at it, and turned to smile at Bucky.
Bucky smiled back. When Steve had brought him at the tower, he had been wary of Tony. He had shared his father after all, and he had killed his parents, even if he didn't remember. He really hadn't known what to expect from him. Anger, maybe. Hate.
At fist impact, Tony Stark had been loud, quick, smart, curious and utterly unafraid of him and of his metal arm. He just kept asking questions about everything, about the war, about the soviets, about his arm, about his brain, about his memory, about his preferences in bed and at the dinner table. He continuously pushed him outside his comfort zone without actually triggering violent reactions, and months later Bucky had recognized that he had needed someone who didn't treat him with kid gloves.
It had taken a while to understand that the banter and the teasing was Tony's way to let him know that he cared and that he wanted to help. And it wasn't even because Bucky was his boyfriend's best friend: it was just that underneath the façade of the genius, playboy, billionaire, philantropist, Tony Stark was a big softie, and a great person to get on well with.
"So," Tony said, "Is there something wrong with your arm? JARVIS mentioned that you needed my help."
"Yeah. It keeps whirring like a fucking overheated laptop. It doesn't really feel hot or anything, it's just very fucking annoying," Bucky explained, pointing at this shoulder. He was wearing a sleeveless top just in case, though.
"Ok, let's get the bench and then we'll get a closer look, okay? Maybe something inside got knocked loose during the last battle or whatever."
Bucky nodded, and helped him dragging the heavy padded bench that Tony kept in his workshop especially for Bucky's arm maintenance. He used to have a chair, but it gave Bucky nightmares even if he was doing a lot better with the flashbacks, so they switched it for the bench. It was slightly uncomfortable during complex procedures, like major upgrades that required to remove the whole arm, but for quick fix ups it was perfect.
Tony grabbed his tool holder, sat down and unrolled it over his lap. "Okay, shirt off. Can I touch? Does it hurt anywhere?"
"Go ahead. As I said, it doesn't feel damaged, but the ventilation system shouldn't be this noisy, right? I mean, I'm not an expert but I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to be able to hear myself think, at the very least," Bucky said sitting down, watching Tony's calloused hands going to press gently around the joint as soon as given permission.
"Excuse me, did you say thinking?" Tony teased, with a mock-perplexed frown. "I've always thought Steve was the brain and you the brawn, have I been wrong for all these years?"
Bucky swatted him on the leg with his good hand. "Asshole. You're the brain, Steve's the brawn."
"And you?" Tony asked half-distractedly, pushing a screwdriver between his teeth to free his hands. Gross.
Bucky grimaced, and took the tool. "I'm the fucking common sense, since it looks like we're seriously lacking around here," Bucky concluded, waving the screwdriver at him, slightly damp with drool. Seriously gross.
Tony shrugged and kept working, his eyes focused on the delicate wiring inside the prosthetic and his mouth running freely and randomly, keeping up the easy chatter to making Bucky at ease.
Half an hour and several tools scattered all over the bench and the floor after, the metal arm was back together in one piece, cool and quiet as usual.
"It was just a loose screw in a sensible place," Tony explained, wiping at the arm with a soft cloth until it gleamed prettily. Bucky didn't really care if his arm was full of oily fingerprints or whatever, but Tony genuinely appreciated its chromed look, and got bitchy if he didn't get to polish it to a shine every time he gave him a fix up, so Bucky humoured him. It made him feel like he was a car and not a person, sometimes, but he knew that Tony didn't mean anything bad with it. Bucky sometimes had the impression that the fact that he was part machine was one of the reasons Tony was so at ease around him.
"But," Tony continued, getting up and stepping away so Bucky could get dressed again, "There's also some slight and absolutely unnnoticeable denting in the plating, here and there. It doesn't compromise the arm's functioning, but since I noticed, the more I look at it and the more it pisses me off. But I'm fixing that next time. You're due for an upgrade, anyway."
"Upgrade?" Bucky asked, curious, standing up.
"Yeah," Tony said, gathering his tools back into their holder, "We're going software. I'm working on a new whole code that should be able to actually interface with the- well, it's a bit fuzzy still, but Bruce thinks we're on the good road to give you at least a bit of tactile sensation back, and-"
"That's bullshit," Bucky blurted, completely taken aback.
Tony stopped dead in his tracks. "Your shirt is bullshit. Is that a Nicki Minaj quote?" Tony fired back nonsequitur, gesturing at Bucky's top with the tool holder, now rolled back into its original shape.
"Wait, are you serious?" It sounded like science fiction. Bucky liked his arm, right now. It was lighter, more efficient than it was when he was with HYDRA, and Tony had promised to keep making it better and better. But making him able to touch again with both hands was completely over his expectations.
"Like a heart attack, honey," Tony answered smugly, punctuating his words by slamming the tool holder on the desk. Something got in the way, and was promptly knocked off the desk and sent fying across the workshop.
"Fuck," he heard Tony mutter somewhere behind him while Bucky bent down to pick it up. It was a small square box, brown and smooth. It had a very familiar shape, but for a moment Bucky couldn't say why. Then something clicked into place, and looked up at Tony, who was standing frozen and unsure a few steps away, in the middle of the workshop, wringing his hands.
"Look," Tony started, "it's nothing. I just-"
"Tony, is this a ring?" Bucky asked, bluntly.
Tony flinched, but didn't speak. He looked at loss for words, and wasn't that something?
"Is this for Steve?" Bucky went on, more gentle, because Tony looked like he had just swallowed his tongue, and was looking everywhere but at Bucky, posture and body language closed off and distant, but the question made him snort.
"Sorry to disappoint you, Barnes, but I don't like you that way," he quipped, flatly. "Can you just give it back and then we forget about it, please? I felt pathetic enough while I was in the fucking forge waiting for the metal to set without anybody witnessing- hey don't-"
Bucky opened the small case, and looked at the ring nested inside. It was a simple silvery band, glossy and smooth in its tiny bundle of white silk. He touched it gently, almost reverently, and then tapped it with a nail. It gave an unreal, argentine, familiar ring.
"It's vibranium, isn't it," he whispered, offering the small box back to its owner.
"…Yeah," Tony admitted, reaching to take it. Bucky noticed he was trembling. "Vibranium-gold alloy, actually. I was working on some new alloys to use for microchips and-" He stopped, and stuffed the box in his pocket. "Look, I don't want to talk about it, okay? It's not like I'm ever asking him to- you know."
"Why not?" Bucky asked. "You've been together since like, forever."
"Said Steve's best friend from the actual fucking Forties," Tony muttered darkly.
Bucky chuckled and cuffed him on the shoulder. "You know what I mean. You've been an item since before I came back, anyway. You love each other to bits, and you're so disgustingly cute together, that everytime I walk in on the two of you flirting I need to punch something afterwards, to feel manly again." That got him an embarrassed, tentative smile.
"Cuteness aside, I know you're both serious with each other, Tony. I've never seen Steve more taken with someone before," he continued. "It would make sense if you decided to get married."
Tony flinched at the word. "I'm not… husband material, James," he sighed. "I'm barely boyfriend-slash-partner-slash-whatever-you-want-to-call-it-when-you're-over-forty material, I cannot do this to Steve."
"You cannot make him happy?" Bucky countered. He didn't want to be mean, but sometimes Tony needed to be pushed. He had seen the asshole falling over himself over taking Steve's hand in public, once, like the two of them banging was some well-kept secret, for Christ's sake.
"As a matter of fact, I can't. I still don't know what the hell Steve sees in me," Tony replied bitterly.
"I don't know what he sees, but I see a good man," Bucky said, honestly. "I see a man who cares. And I know Steve well enough to know that he digs that."
At that Tony looked up at him with wide eyes, like it was some shocking notion. "I'm not a good man, James."
"Well, good enough for him, anyway," he answered, clapping him on the shoulder. He pretended not to see Tony blinking away the slight wetness in his eyes. "Give him the damn ring, Tony. He'll be beside himself with happiness, I promise you."
Tony nodded, speechless again. "Fuck. Thanks, James. I'm serious."
"You're welcome. Now stop being ridiculous and get back to work, I want to know what it feels like to mock-strangle that boyfriend of yours again."