Work Text:
Even though everyone knows that Tony Stark has a brilliant, absolutely brilliant, mind, people usually assume his thoughts don't go much deeper than all those numbers, schematics, pop-culture references and a frankly monumental ego. To say that Tony Stark doesn't come off like the type to contemplate on the meaning of life on daily basis is an understatement. He seems almost thoughtless in his reckless behavior to most bystanders. He is spontaneous, fun, smart, self-assured but he is (well, they say) shallow. And it's alright because that's exactly what Tony wants them to think he is.
But the thing about Tony's mind is (and it could be a bit of a surprise) that it doesn't discriminate knowledge. It's not exclusively drawn to certainties and practicalities. It is also fascinated with people, emotions, feelings. In fact, since there are no certainties, his mind seems more interested in (meaning, frustrated with, because those two are practically the same thing in his mind) the latter at times. Science feels comforting and familiar. What's not numbers and calculation but nonetheless fascinates him is dangerous, makes him insecure and vulnerable. It lights his brain in all the right places but refuses to be cracked open, to be understood and categorized which means he will never be able to control it.
What's worse is that Tony feels too much and he's always been ashamed of it. He hated how Howard's disapproving glances and disparaging remarks made him feel like he was aching all over his body, rattling him to his core, more than he hated the old man himself. He hates how until now (for god's sake, he is too old for this, isn't he?) he internally flinches every time someone mentions his father's name as if he didn't hear it often enough. So no, Howard Stark didn't screw him up. This is all just him. He's been screwed up since day one. His mind is an ever-throbbing mess of excitement that just wants, wants and wants even if the wanting becomes too painful to bear. Hyperactivity of it leaves Tony feeling raw, like he's missing the outermost layer of his skin. Every emotion hits him too hard.
It's a fatal flaw of his. So of course he tries to wrap it up under the sturdiest armor he can come up with. It's not impenetrable though. His mind rambles on incessantly and persistently while his hands work with methodical ease. Still absent-mindedly, Tony thinks that must be why he felt inexplicably safe, secure, in the presence of James "Bucky" Barnes from the beginning when Bucky was less than stable and could rip Tony's throat out in a second with his bare hand. Because he knows (knows) a part of Bucky in a way he never could understand another human being even if it's just one arm and it's made of metal. It's a ridiculous idea, Tony knows that, but when tracing the beautifully interwoven wires and circuits, he can't hold on to his mask (which by now feels like his second skin) anymore, the tension he wasn't aware was there easing away from his mind.
And whenever he looks up from the metal arm, Tony finds a pair of baby-blue eyes looking back at him. Bucky wears an expression of patience, not the enduring kind, but like he is just waiting.
-
Natasha knows for a fact that Bucky and Tony do not talk to each other much. It's not that they purposefully avoid talking to one another. But even when the two of them are alone down in Tony's workshop, they speak very little which is strange for both of them, well, especially Tony. Because Bucky talks to the rest of the team with his playful smirks and smart come-backs, mostly being his charming self at this point. Tony talks like silence is never an option and the team is already used to his non-stop babbling.
If they dislike each other's presence, at least they are very subtle about it. And the level of subtleness that even Natasha's trained eyes cannot pick apart must be a whole new level of subtleness so she lets it go. Whatever secret hatred they might harbor for each other never affects their performances on the field and no one in the team beside herself seems to have noticed it, so really, not her business.
So when after a spectacularly self-destructive and reckless deed of Iron Man which did, in fact, save the day, Steve opens his mouth again to yell at Tony who started to fidget after ten minutes into Steve's patented angry lecture specifically designed for when Tony did something stupid and dangerous, the last thing Natasha expects to happen is Bucky Barnes practically growling out,
"Steve, that's enough."
There's a thinly laced threat in Bucky's voice and how he seems to mean it surprises her the most. She's not alone in her surprise though. Everyone is kind of stunned into abrupt silence by the unexpected remark from Captain America's best buddy. Steve looks confused more than anything.
"But, Bucky, he doesn't..."
Looking at Steve's unguarded expression of bemusement, the hard glint which was there in his eyes for the tinniest fraction of a moment disappears like it was never there but Natasha isn't fooled. She can see the tightly wound muscles in his back and when he shifts himself into a more casual posture, she can see that it's a conscious effort on his part. Bucky waves a dismissive hand in the air before Steve can finish his sentence.
"Just leave him alone, alright?"
So everyone calls it a night and returns to their respective floor in the tower. They are too exhausted to give much thoughts as to what exactly happened once they come down (crash down, more likely) from all the battle adrenaline.
-
Bucky's arm gets smashed by the nasty-looking latest creation of Doctor Doom. He doesn't so much as flinch before plunging his knife into the slit between its head and neck with chilling efficiency. Of course, this is only possible because it's the metal one that's destroyed (thank god) and it automatically turns off its sensory receptors when external pressure reaches a certain point. Clint hears a sharp intake of breath and there's a pained edge to it and he quickly glances up again at the fighting Soldier. But when Bucky grunts as he tears apart what's left of the machine with one arm, Clint knows that the sound didn't come from him.
Clint looks around to make sure the rest of the team isn't in any imminent danger. All of them seem to be doing fine. Doctor Doom has already left the scene and fled to his secret cave or whatever and the battered scraps of Doom's alleged masterpiece Bucky currently is channeling his great annoyance into was the last real threat. They wrap it up within a half an hour. The comms stays unusually quiet but Clint doesn't think much of it.
That's until they get to the tower and Iron Man crumbles on the hangar rather than landing gracefully like any other day. And when he whips his head around to ask others,
"What's wrong with him?"
He catches Bucky mouthing 'fuck' with slightly widened eyes like he had missed something important and just realized it. Clint thinks he hears ragged gasps and suppressed groans before Tony shuts off the com completely. Bucky all but sprints toward the lab when they land and when Clint and the others reach the lab, they find the two of them on the other side of the glass wall, Tony exactly in the same position when he first landed, still in the suit, and Bucky on the ground next to him.
Bucky's head is lowered next to Tony's helmet as if he's murmuring something to the unmoving figure. It's long before Tony moves to lift his arm to clutch at Bucky's arm, the one made of flesh and bones and he must have said something, too, because Bucky shakes his head. He does it slowly as if to get his point across. It's only because Clint can read lips that he understands when Bucky says.
'Come on, it's ok. It's ok. It's not your fault. Let's get you out of that thing now. Let me see your face.'
They all just stand there right outside of the lab, unsure of what to do and then Clint and Bucky's eyes meet for the first time since they followed him down here. Bucky gives him a small nod and it's the affirmation that they aren't needed here. So they leave.
Before Clint turns back to head upstairs, he catches a glimpse of Bucky leaning down and hears the distinct sound of the suit's joints disengaging and clattering of metal plates.