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The Soldier was not pleased, and Bucky was in wholehearted agreement.
It had been almost a year since his escape from Hydra. Another three months since moving into the building of the man whose parents he murdered, that Bucky (and the Soldier) finally grasped some semblance of control in their lives.
Hell, the fact that Bucky and the Soldier were even on speaking terms is a goddamn miracle. Yet, here he was, in agreement with the part of his psyche that toppled empires, killed hundreds of people, withstood mind control, cryo-freezing, and torture for almost seventy fucking years. Bucky never thought he’d be able to reach a point where he not only accepted that part of himself, but was also a little bit in awe that they were one and the same person, but again – here he was.
More than a weapon, more than the hand that pulls the trigger; Bucky Barnes finally felt like a person again. A person who did bad things, had bad things happen to him; who wanted to do better and was finally getting the chance to do it.
All thanks to the very same man who had all the reason in the world to tell him to go fuck himself.
Instead, Tony Stark gave him a home and protection. He provided the retro-framing and therapy, the clothes on his back and food in his stomach, and gave Bucky the second chance that he didn’t deserve, but got anyway. All thanks to Tony “arrogant, cocky, son of a bitch futurist who thinks a clear conscious can be bought" Stark.
Bucky’s flesh hand almost snapped the metal armrest of the chair, but Barton didn’t seem to notice.
The tirade lasted another ten minutes and when Barton finally tired himself out with the spiel, Bucky had to take a breath to calm down to keep the Soldier from launching at the archer to put hands on him.
Predictably, Romanova rolled her eyes and added, “What do you expect, Clint? The man turned on his own team.” Bucky considered laying it on her instead just to work out his frustrations. She’d provide at least some entertainment, the Soldier mused. The Widow wouldn’t beat us, but at least it wouldn’t be a boring fight.
No, Bucky reminded, Tony doesn’t like blood in the common area.
In the back of his mind, the Soldier huffed, and Bucky resolved to ignore his other-half as the Soldier tried to compromise: Poison? Strangulation? We take the fight outside so she can bleed in the bushes?
Romanova spoke up during the Soldier’s very plausible recommendations, “We should leave Tony to it, Barnes,” punctuating her decree with a wink she does little to disguise, making both Bucky and the Solider roll their eyes so hard their brain gave a twinge of pain from the effort of it.
The Rogues, since their arrival back into the Compound, decided that they were better off without the man that gave them literally everything. Though Steve was adamant that the reverse was actually true.
How, alluded Bucky and the Soldier both.
Regardless, the Rogues made it clear whenever possible to exclude Tony. From leaving the room immediately after he came in, purposely bumping into him in the hallways, and talking over him whenever he said something until such a time as when Tony apologized for his behavior. Possibly groveled while he was at it.
Like Tony was the one who dropped cars on them, destroyed a city in Germany, totaled an airport, put them in the Raft, and hid the fact that Bucky killed his fucking parents.
Huffing out an annoyed breath, Bucky thought in unison with the Soldier, Idiots.
Romanova left a moment later, casting Tony her coolest look, and a smile that belied her actual allegiance in the Compound.
Tony, clever, clever Tony, saw right through it. His expression blank before turning to the fridge.
Barton had almost thrown out the blueberries, just to spite Tony further, but Bucky had taken it for himself which means that when Tony roots through the shelves, he groused, "Where are my blueberries?”
Smirking now, as if Barton finally caught onto Bucky’s ploy, the archer declared, “Barnes wanted it” as if that automatically made it his. The Soldier continued to glower in the wake of the self-satisfied smirk Barton was sporting.
If I pressed my thumbs into his eyes, most of the blood will be on his face, the Soldier informed coolly, like he was telling Bucky about the weather, as if that too was a work-around Tony’s no-blood-in-the-common-areas rule.
“Now that’s just rude,” Tony declared, furrowing his brow at Bucky. “I thought you preferred plums?”
Bucky huffed a breath out through his nose when, before he can open his mouth, Barton retorted, “He can change his mind, Stark.”
To make matters worse, Steve choose that exact moment to come in.
“Who can change their mind?” Wilson, one of the only few reasonable people left in the Compound and of the Rogues, asked.
“Barnes,” Barton said, nodding in his direction with a derisive smile. “Stark over here wants to just keep everything the same – can’t even let Barnes try his stupid blueberries.”
“Now you’re just putting words I didn’t even say, in my mouth,” Tony said, rolling his eyes, and Barton waved him away as if his very presence wasn’t worth the effort of actually dismissing him – like Tony was an irritating fly.
I could break every finger in his hand and then his arm, the Soldier continued casually, no blood there.
Wilson made a very clear what-the-fuck face.
Steve, the stupid punk, immediately took Barton’s side, “Tony, Bucky can have whatever he wants.”
“I never said he couldn’t,” Tony retorted.
“Well, you know,” Wilson said slowly, “you could just share.”
Barton snorted. “Please, Stark doesn’t know how to do that. What is that, like only-child-syndrome or just because you’re a selfish dick?”
“Hey,” Steve interjected, though there was a quirk at his mouth that suggested he found the comment funny.
The Soldier declared, I can kill them all while they’re sleeping, the blood will be in their bedrooms and those aren’t common areas.
“I mean,” Barton continued with that same smirk, “you’ve been sulking for months already, get the hell over it – we’re back, Stark – and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
Tony wouldn’t was the difference because Tony Stark was a far better person than everyone else in this goddamn building. The Soldier and Bucky, on the other hand...
Bucky's metal arm, the one thoughtfully designed and lovingly fabricated at the hands of his clever mechanic, had Barton’s neck in his hand in less than ten seconds.
“Bucky,” Steve shouted, “put him down!”
See, the Soldier enthused, not a drop of blood.
“It’s the arm,” Steve decided, turning furious eyes on Tony. “What did you do to his arm?”
Spluttering, Tony demanded in turn, “What the hell -”
Steve, of course, didn't need anything more than a suggestion to go on a tirade as he persisted, “I knew it was a bad idea the second you suggested it -”
Tony glared. “I didn’t suggest it. Bucky asked for it, and I gave it to him. He can make his own choices.”
“So you put something in it to control him like some guard dog, is that it?” Steve demanded, lip curling. “I knew Bucky was acting weird – always standing behind you like some kind of sentinel, going down to the lab all the time, actually agreeing to spending time with you. What did you do to him, Tony?”
And wasn’t that the most hilarious thing? Bucky went from being a thing to being some kind of animal.
The fucking hypocrisy, and from the mouth of his supposed best friend to boot.
Not that Bucky was particularly concerned about those memories. Nostalgia was nothing but a liar, and memories could always be corrupted. What had passed was not guaranteed in the present, no matter how much Steve wished for his buddy from the war back. And Bucky understood, he really did, but there was no excuse for the shit they were pulling right now.
The roaring in Bucky’s ears prevented him from actually hearing the words Wilson was saying to try to de-escalate the situation, but it didn't hinder him in moving. In slamming Steve into the wall and holding him up by with his flesh and blood hand while his other still held Barton in place.
With a smirk, the Soldier drawled, “Still gonna blame the arm, Stevie?”
“Buck-Bucky, this isn’t you – Tony – he did something,” Steve managed through his partially blocked airway, the surprise making him miss the Russian slant of the Soldier's words entirely enough that the Soldier was snickering.
“Tony didn’t do anything.”
“Barnes, come on,” Wilson tried to placate. “Let’s talk about this.”
“What’s there to talk about?” Bucky demanded this time, the undertone of the Soldier dropping his voice. “I’ve heard enough of your shit. Tony should’ve never let you guys back in, you’ve done nothing to earn or deserve it.”
Clint struggled, but managed to declare, “Like you did, you fucking -”
“Alright, that’s enough,” Tony interjected with a sigh. “Sugar plum, if I can’t snap their necks, neither can you. Let ‘em go.”
Disappointed, he huffed a breath through his nose, and loosened his hold for just a second before pulling both men close once more. “Tony Stark is mine, pull any of that shit again, assholes, and I’ll let the Soldier deal with you.”
“But – Bucky, you know I –”
“No, you don’t.” Steve’s eyes widened – and Bucky couldn’t help but laugh. For all of Steve’s talking about Bucky getting better and I love you until the end of the line, it didn’t take into account the Soldier, and that was something Steve had yet to understand. You can’t love me if you can’t love the him.
With a firm pat on Bucky's shoulder, Tony steered him out of the room.
You did well, James, the Soldier soothed, in the back of his mind as Tony took a seat beside him on the couch in the lab, their thighs flush against one another and shoulders brushing.
Quietly, Tony asked, “Are you okay?”
“They shouldn’t talk to you like that.”
“Yeah, well – you get used to it. It’s not a big deal, Buckaroo,” he said, tone placating as he squeezed his knee. Bafflingly, after the ordeal of being ganged up on after an innocent trip to the kitchen, it was Tony that was comforting him. “I actually prefer it to the fake we’re all friends, we’re just like a family, nonsense.”
“I’m your friend,” the Soldier sulks.
“You are?” Tony asked, feigning hurt. "Do you always sleep with your friends?"
At that Bucky snorted, covering Tony's hand with his own.
"And for the record,” Tony added, turning his full attention to him, eyes brighter than stars. “I love you too, babe.”
He hummed, ignoring the warmth tingeing his ears and neck, especially when Tony rested his head on Bucky’s shoulder – vulnerable and sweet in the face of the violence that had occurred less than ten minutes before.
Tony added, amused, “You know, I don’t even know why I went into the kitchen in the first place. I had blueberries right here.”