#this Bucky even without the context of his later existence as the Winter Soldier is more interesting

[daydreamerdrew]

Captain America 65th Anniversary Special (2006) #1

[universitypenguin]

Bucky Barnes is a Traditional Man

- Bucky Barnes is a traditional man in the sense that his woman comes first.

- You have more doors held open for you than you could have imagined before you began dating Bucky.

- Door to buildings, your car door (always!), he even moves one step ahead of you when you walk down the stairs in heels so he could break your fall, just in case.

- James Buchanan Barnes is quite protective of his girlfriend.

- He’s in love with you and it finally allows some of the deeper wounds from Hydra, from the war, and losing Steve to heal.

- His heart was cold and aching before he met you. Now it’s warm and soft.

- Your perspective on the world is something that attracted him to you in the first place. You’re an optimist in a jaded world and vibrant with life in a way he’s not sure he’s even capable of.

- But somehow, being with you helps bridge the gap. He can look in the mirror and not see the Winter Soldier looking back at him. Instead he sees the man from the 1940s who loved to dance and who hoped to win a boxing title.

- You gave him that man back with your care and affection, even before the two of you fell in love. And he feels such a gratitude for that his heart throbs and his eyes glass over when he thinks about it for too long.

- Bucky is a man in love and you’re happier with him than you ever thought was possible to be. Things are so good between you two; easy, light, and sweet.

- Then one night at dinner Bucky forgets his phone. He asks to borrow your to check the score of a baseball game.

- And he accidentally finds an open porn tab. Curious, he turns the screen so no one else can see and watches. His stomach twists. The appetizer from earlier suddenly isn’t sitting so well.

- Choking.

- You watch porn with men choking their women.

- He’s not judging. He’s really not. But he’d been hoping for something he could replicate for you, and this? He can’t. Not in a million years.

- He’s afraid of hurting you.

- He doesn’t say it out loud because it feels like speaking one of his worst fears into existence. He doesn’t want even the words to pass his lips and take root in your imagination.

- You can’t see him like that. Like a monster. Too many others have and there’s enough truth behind the title for him to sleep well at night, despite all his progress. But most of the time, he sleeps well. It’s because of you and he knows it. Your comforting presence allows him to relax.

- He sleeps in bed with you nowadays. He likes how firm your mattress is.

- He struggles through dinner, the video playing through the back of his mind. When you ask him what the score of the game was he can’t figure out what you’re talking about. It’s an awkward moment.

- The thing here, is that Bucky Barnes is a traditional man. His woman comes first. So he’s going to do whatever it takes to please you and he knows it.

- You always come first. Both in the bedroom and out of it. That’s one of his rules. So he’s already forming ideas about how he’s going to accommodate your kink.

- Two weeks later is your anniversary. He gets flowers, takes you to a nice restaurant and when you get home, brings up the thing.

- “I found your porn open when I borrowed your phone. I’m guessing that you like choking, doll?”

- Your cheeks turn bright red. And you stammer.

- “Hey. Don’t be embarrassed. I want to know this stuff. I need to. How can I please you if we don’t talk about it?”

- “Bucky, you don’t have to... I would never ask you...”

- He smiles. He loves that you’re protective of him in your own way. Knowing this has done a lot for his mental well-being. It makes the relationship between you two solid and strong.

- “I want to give you everything you want in bed,” Bucky says.

- “But you already do!”

- That’s true. Too many of your ex-boyfriends were quick and rough without taking the time for foreplay.

- Bucky is an expert at foreplay. He’s able to build the tension until you fall apart for him is an addiction that he feeds as often as he can. Knowing he provides for your needs like no other man before him is a point of pride for him. (Private pride, that is. Even Sam doesn’t know anything about his sex life. Some parts of 1940’s discretion is very much ingrained in him. It’s not shame. He just likes keeping intimacy... intimate.)

- Bucky is slow and sensual in bed, warm and passionate. With him sex really does feel like making love. It was on your first night together that you’d fallen for him and his patient, gentle way of touching you.

- Orgasming had been so easy when you felt worshiped and safe. And it remained that way with him. Later, these feelings heightened your desire for rough sex with your boyfriend. Because sex with Bucky was a place of security for you. He was utterly harmless towards you and in that context, rough sex would be amazing.

- But things between you two are pretty much vanilla.

- He’s always soft with you. Things can be heightened and swirling with passion, but he’s never show even a flash of aggression or force.

- The super soldier serum means he has stamina for days. He can accomplish and position you want to try, even if it involves lifting you for long periods of time. And there’s no question if he’s going to last. Also, his recovery time is so short “round two” sometimes blurs in with round one.

- But he’s careful about using his strength against you, even more so during intimate situations.

- You’re not “breakable” and he knows that. But you’re precious to him and leaving a mark that isn’t from pure passion would wreck his mental health. Permanently. He’d never forgive himself.

- You know this too, which is why you never asked him to choke you.

- “Baby doll. I want to give you your fantasy. Will you let me? Do you want that from me?”

- You do. You really, really want to be choked by him. So you quietly respond, “Yes.”

- Before he starts, you two sit on the couch and he holds you while you tell him about your fantasies. He takes off your heels while you tell him all your darkest desires. And he gives the sore arches of your feet a massage, listening intently.

- One comforting thing for Bucky is that having been a soldier, he knows how to choke someone. He’ll be able to tell if it’s too much for you. He knows how long before it would damage you. There’s some confidence forming that this will be safe and he won’t hurt you.

- It’s nice that for once his violent past is proving helpful in your relationship. He thought agreeing to choke you might rattle him a little, stirring up old emotions, but it’s soothing. He’s enjoying using what he knows to make this experience good for you.

- He lets things get rough when you go to bed. He doesn’t hold back the passion tonight. Instead, he focuses on eating you to orgasm and holding you on the edge until you pull his hair.

- “Bucky! Please!”

- Then he slides two fingers inside of you and draws fast little circles on your g-spot until you break.

- He lets up on your clit but as the orgasm fades, slides in a third finger and pounds the spot until your pussy creams on his hand and your groans are low and raw, filled with ecstasy.

- “That’s it, doll. Just like that. So pretty when you cum for me. Keep going, baby girl. I’m right here.”

- His metal arm wraps around your waist when you arch your back, holding you so he can keep toying with the spot as your hips begin to jerk away.

- When he’s finally done with your g-spot his hand is drenched. So is the sheet and your inner thighs.

- And you’re gasping for breath from the intense orgasm. When it comes on this hard you can’t really tell if it’s one long orgasm or three separate ones that came almost back to back.

- Bucky takes you in his arms, cooing sweet nothings into your ear.

- It helps you calm down when he talks in a soft soothing voice. The man should narrate meditations.

- His voice is silky and smooth for you, yet rough with repressed need. You can hear the need and it feeds your desire.

- “Please, Bucky. I need to feel you inside of me.”

- You find yourself underneath him, with your legs pushed apart and his body selling between them.

- You love feeling the weight of him on top of you.

- Then, he gently opens the petals of your sex and guides himself inside of you.

- There’s a stretch and burn as he enters you, just like there always is. Your body never quite adjusts to his girth. Each time you have to relax for him.

- He knows it’s a challenge to take him at first. He’s always careful and there’s a tube of lubricant in the side table. It’s not always needed but he’s always prepared.

- His hips begin to roll, and he sets a steady pace that pushes the tip of his cock against your spot with each thrust. At first his thrusts are shallow but as you begin to relax around him he goes deeper. His body moves forward to cover you and he starts fucking you hard.

- Each snap of his hips has you keening. Your body is so sensitive from your earlier orgasms. He keeps up the pace steady and constant until you’re begging. Then he reaches out with his metal hand and covers your throat. At this point, your channel clenches around him, almost in orgasm.

- “You wanted my metal hand baby, didn’t you?”

- Yeah. You had. The idea had fueled your fantasies night after night.

- The cool press of metal into your throat makes you moan and tremble.

- Bucky feels the shiver and worry flashes through his eyes. “This okay, doll?”

- “Yes, harder, please!”

- He can feel your body responding and it encourages him to press down, finally choking you the way you’d dreamed of.

- You orgasm almost instantly as he chokes you through your climax.

- Bucky lets go when your fluttering muscles start to ease. Suddenly he’s driving into you hard. He drops his hand from your neck, needing both to balance his weight as he seeks his own pleasure.

- The wild, rough movement is harder than the two of you have ever gone before.

- Because he’s always been afraid of hurting you with his enhanced strength until he was too far gone to think.

- When his orgasm hits, his sight goes white and he jerks against you, pumping his seed into you. Then he collapses.

- You hold him tight, savoring the press of his body and the feeling of his release inside of you.

- “You okay, doll? I wasn’t too rough?”

- “It was perfect.”

- Your hand strokes through his hair as you lay together in the same position for several minutes. Heartbeats pounding, your minds still struggling to return to equilibrium.

- Bucky recovers first. Damn that super soldier serum. It’s not fair that you’re still limp and dazed.

- He slips out of you and rolls over, bringing you with him. Your head finds its cradle in his shoulder and your eyes drift shut.

- Recovery isn’t going to happen for you tonight. You’re just going straight to sleep. You’ve earned it.

- Bucky shifts you onto your side. He gets up and you hear water running in the bathroom before a cool cloth touches between your legs, cleaning you.

- You murmur a thanks, half asleep.

- He comes back to cuddle you into his arms, adjusting the pillows around you before he lays down.

- When you throw a leg over his hip, he draws you closer so that you’re lying almost on top of him.

- “You make such a good pillow of someone with so many hard muscles.”

- Bucky chuckles and kisses the top of your head.

- “I’m glad. Go to sleep, doll. I love you.”

- “I love you too, James.”

[pendragonfics]

You Seemed So Happy

Paring: James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes/Reader

Tags: gender-neutral reader, no pronouns in fic, alternate timeline, canon divergence - after Captain America: Civil War, Avengers Tower, domestic Avengers, Bucky Barnes recovering, Bucky Barnes feels, rain, first kiss, fluff

Summary: A longtime lover of inclement weather, Reader is often seen mucking around in their rain shoes outside. It just so happens that the newcomer to the Avengers Tower, a recovering Bucky Barnes has taken note in them, and their somewhat peculiar habits.

Title comes from this song (recommended listening while reading)

Word Count: 2,411

Current Date: 2019-11-20

Requested By: @karasong​

Without a doubt, the best part of any day was checking the weather app. It wasn’t always fruitful in its outcomes, and whenever Thor made his way to the Avengers Tower, you’d be sure to make him change the weather for you. It had gotten to the point where if there was rain forecasted for the week ahead, you’d set your rain jacket and galoshes out in preparation. You’d cancel all plans for days when the rain would roll in.

Luckily, your day job was being a superhero.

By the time that the newest Avenger came to live in the old Stark Tower in New York, everyone else had lost the thrill of teasing you over your adoration over precipitation. And if you were being completely honest, you were glad that they weren’t rubbing it in all the time. You didn’t tease Tony Stark about his love of Judge Judy, or Sam Wilson about his liking of bath bombs. But as soon as your new neighbour to the twelfth floor came in, he was the newest attraction.

James Buchannan ‘Bucky’ Barnes.

With a name like that, he could be many things. You grew up on the other side of the world, it would seem - because before joining the team, you had a) no clue as to who Captain America was, and b) had never heard of the Winter Soldier. Which, you assumed after some context, was James. Wait no, he preferred Bucky. You were still getting used to his many names, among other things.

While you were a morning person of sorts, the only time you ever crossed paths with your new teammate was at the elevator one evening. Not that you were one to objectify openly, but the man - he was sure fresh out some trauma that you were still wrapping your head around, but oh my, was he a looker.

But today, there wasn’t a sign of him at all upstairs. After a movie night with the remaining Avengers, you fell asleep midway through Mama Mia! and woke up on the couch. When whoever’s left are given a budget and told to stay out of trouble when the other half of the team are in Portugal for the latest hero-ing your skillset wasn’t needed for, movie nights become the thing when someone joins you. So far, only Clint joined you when he was able, but that was just because he liked that you only watched movies with closed captions.

It was going to be a normal day.

But then, after stretching, you checked the weather app. And lo and behold, there was the best news of the day: a change in the prediction. Light to moderate rain in the morning, followed by heavy rain in the evening, it said, summarised with the humidity and the other details you didn’t quite care for. At once, you felt your pulse quicken, and you threw yourself from the cramped corner of the couch to the elevator.

Mashing the buttons, you paced the space as the box descended, and as soon as you free from it, you ran to your room and donned the right clothes to explore in the rain. You pulled your hair from your face and brushed haphazardly at your teeth. Washed your face and tossed the clothes you slept in into the hamper. Pulled on the galoshes and your favourite tee shirt and the rain jacket too. You were so happy, you felt your abilities sparkle beneath the palms of your hands, your feet growing light as your happiness translate into partial hovering. Bounding like a kangaroo on the moon, dressed, you rush back to the elevator.

Bucky stood there, also waiting.

He wore black jeans, and boots, and a grey hoodie. They looked like new clothes. Like, they were so new that they hadn’t been washed yet after coming home from the store. As you joined his side, you met Bucky’s eyes. He’d cleaned the dirt that was spread across his face since you last saw him. Not that you had anything against people who wore eyeliner! You’d give him a pointer or two if he wanted to wear it again, that was for sure. And his hair was pulled back into a haphazard ponytail.

“Hi,” you say, beaming.

He blinks. “Hi,” Bucky echoes.

As soon as the elevator comes, you both enter it. As you reach for the button for the roof, your hand brushes alongside his. You’re not sure why, but you feel a little zap! of electricity as you do. Maybe it’s the energy your body is creating from the excitement, or just static from the rain, but Bucky looks at you funny, and presses for the roof.

“I’m headed there too,” you make conversation, poking your hands in your rain jacket pockets. “For some very important business.”

He raises an eyebrow, silent. As the elevator ticks upward, you sway, rocking back and forth on your feet as you wait patiently for the destination. Ever since the roof was refurbished from being Tony Stark’s personal living room to the loft living space - usually used for fancy soirées or stuff like that - you fought to have a little greenhouse outside too, and access to the tip-top of the building. Because of your abilities, and a promise that you weren’t going to go crazy and cultivate fifty types of roses, it was allowed.

As soon as the elevator opened, you waited patiently for Bucky to alight before rushing out. You barely paid him any attention as you made your way to the balcony, and once the doors let you out, you felt your abilities pricking underfoot. At once, you soared up to the top of the Avengers Tower, your rain jacket and boots almost a comical hero-costume as you flew through the rain.

It wasn’t as heavy as you thought it would be, the droplets splashing over your face and head lightly. In your glee, you shot your hands out before you, and without thinking, propelled two bolts of energy from your palms into the sky.

Thankfully, there weren’t any planes in the sky today.

Looping around, you were surely a spectacle to be seen above the Avengers Tower. While the people of New York and beyond America’s borders knew of your existence on the team, you were still a new face that wasn’t as popular an action figure as say, the Black Widow doll. Before returning to the top floor of the tower, you spread your arms wide, as if to embrace the sky, and propelled yourself backwards.

You landed on the top floor, laying softly on the concreted ground. The rain continued to fall around, the droplets gathering on your face to make it run as if they were tears and you were from a Ghibli movie.

“Best day ever,” you grinned to yourself.

---

The next time there’s rain, you’re out in the street, running errands. It’s almost a month later, and the dry spell has gotten to you. Except, unlike any other time when you’d be very thrilled for the rain, you’re carrying groceries back to the Avengers Tower with Steve and Bucky, and don’t want the shopping to get wet. Steve barrels ahead of the both of you, sparing sorry!’s and excuse me!’s to those who he knocks into. You try the same, but it’s no use.

You’re not Captain America.

Bucky loops his gloved hand through the bags you’re carrying and whisks them from your grasp. People move out the way for him and his imposing stature, and you follow him swiftly through the path he carves in the crowds of the New York footpath back to the tower. Once inside, he calls the elevator with his spare elbow and turns to you.

His face is sodden, hair dripping into his eyes like a baptised puppy dog, his clothes soaked through. You’re no better, glad that you wore a jacket over your white shirt so that it isn’t see-through to others’ eyes.

“I thought you liked the rain.” He says as the doors open.

You blink, following him inside. You’ve never heard him say this many syllables except to Steve. You try to hide the shock of it with a shiver, and reply, “I do like the rain. It was just-,” you shiver once more, the movement of the elevator providing the interior with an uncustomary breeze, “-a little unexpected.”

Once the elevator reaches the common area, you both approach the communal kitchen. Steve’s already unpacked his bags and has started to put odds and ends away. As he’s turned to the pantry, he calls over his shoulder, “I’ve got it this time. Thanks for carrying the bags, ________, Buck -,” he beams, and turning, adds, “Why don’t you go get dry?”

You thank him but ask, “You’re wet too, Cap. How about we tag team?”

Steve shrugs. “Thanks, but I don’t feel the cold.” Bucky goes to interject, and the leader of the Avengers adds, “Seriously, I’m good. It’s been a while since you’ve both had a day off. Enjoy the time off.”

Bucky joins you in the elevator, and you return to the level you sleep on. Parting ways upon exit, you only meet up with him again not ten minutes later, when you’re drier. This time, you’ve donned your favourite socks (the ones with avocado’s with faces) and a tee-shirt that Thor gave you (it’s the demi-god’s size, with a print of Thor as Nyan Cat on the front) and of course, your raincoat and boots. Bucky’s in a different all-black set of clothes, and he calls the elevator as you join him at it. Waiting.

“Are you going to the roof?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you nod. A second passes, and you wonder, “are you?”

Bucky nods. There’s a look on his face as you both ride to the roof that you just can’t put your finger on. You don’t have any time to really question what that look is because he turns to you and starts to speak.

“I used to be happy like you are about the rain,” he says. There’s a sigh, barely audible, but you catch it. “I used to be happy…about a lot of things.”

You swallow offhand. Slowly, you gather your words before offering a reply. “I don’t know much about what you went through, before coming to us…but if you like, I can help you.” Bucky looks at you quizzically, and the elevator reveals the top floor of the tower. Stepping out, you correct yourself, “I mean, I can help you with your thing about the rain. Or other stuff. I’m not the most qualified, but I’ll give it a shot if you want.”

He exhales, but it’s then you realise that it’s an attempt at a laugh. You smile at that and move toward the balcony.

“What makes you like the rain?” Bucky asks.

He’s trailing behind. You can see him in the reflection of the glass windows, and as he gazes out, you can see a look there that you recognise. Hesitation.

“I didn’t always like it,” you say. “When I was a kid, the rain freaked me out. It felt weird, like, too much to handle on my skin. But then one day I woke up one day and realised I could shoot energy from my hands, and fly, and I was eight, nine years old?” you scrunch your nose, trying to remember. “Now that is scary. Rain turned into a piece of cake after that, and when I got used to being basically a kid hero, nothing much could really freak me out.”

You look to Bucky. “You don’t have to tell me what’s going on with you, but…” you unlatch the door to the balcony and start to step out. The rain patters down upon your face as you go, but you wait for Bucky to follow. “May I have this dance?”

“Dance?” he echoes.

You grin. “Well, if I’m goof off on the roof with you, buddy, we’re dancing. You know, the kind like-nobody-is-looking?”

Bucky glances behind him and sees you’re alone together. “But you’ll be looking too.”

You close your eyes and hold your hands up as if in surrender, “At a risk to my safety, I will not be looking. Besides! I’m a crappy dancer myself.”

You hear Bucky’s footsteps follow you out, feeling him ghost past you with a slight breeze that follows. Quietly, you turn to where you feel he is, and say, loud enough for J.A.R.V.I.S. to hear, “Play The Horses, Daryl Braithwaite, please.”

You thank Tony Starks’ surround-sound system as you start to sway in your space. As the beat kicks in, you start to move faster, feeling more and more confident. You stomp your feet in the wells of puddles growing underfoot, shaking your arms and chest in a half-hearted shimmy, busting out the tried and true bedroom-only moves. The climax of the song comes, and you feel yourself collide with Bucky -

Your eyes shoot open, shocked, but as you see his face, he’s far from upset. His eyes are wide, yes, but at the corners of his lips, there’s the faintest tug, and your heart jumps, pulse fast. You bite your lip, unsure what to do next, but he takes charge. He places his hands on your shoulders, and almost like you’re slow dancing, Bucky leads you into a swaying movement.

There’s a clap of thunder somewhere off, and in the flash of lightning that follows, you feel his hands tense up. Your move your palms to rest on his, and almost so slow that you didn’t realise it was happening until it was, he closes the distance between you. Just as the last part of the song comes, his lips rest upon yours, parting them, pressing in such a delicate way that your already racing heartbeat skips a beat.

“Oh,” you say, the kiss taking all your wits from you.

No words come when your wits return, nor does Bucky supply them. He threads his fingers in yours and looks out across the city, the rain still cascading over the both of you. However, some words come, and they do so as he turns to you, his eyes bright and full of something that you recognise. “I think I - I think love the rain.”

You squeeze his hand lightly, just as the song ends. “I love the rain too.”

[ketchupcrisp]

Ask Strange, Part II for today

Content Notes: First response includes representations of physical violence from an enhanced teenager toward an adult, as well as discussion of grieving the loss of a parent. I also want to note that the POV character sounds and likely is vaguely suicidal at the beginning of the response. He's not making any definite plans beyond using time travel, but given that the context of said time travel would be rather different than in the canon, it takes on a different valence here. If you want to avoid the most direct discussions of that, start reading several paragraphs in at "He came to suddenly and violently."

Thanks for sharing, doc, this and the other intel, especially your note about the people who wouldn't listen to Tony earlier having to live with the consequences (that's something I'd love to hear a bit more about, sometime, if you are at liberty to say)

and

Hey, Doc! If it hasn't already been asked I'm desperately curious about the aftermath of whatever Tony did in his world. Particularly whether he did save Natasha, and how his subsequent loss has affected everyone (especially those who didn't appreciate or listen to Tony as much as they should have). And if it's not too personal, how do you feel about your role in all of this? Obviously you know where Tony is and how he's doing but I can't imagine it's easy when dealing with Tony's loved ones.

My feelings about my own role…well, as one would imagine, they’re complicated. There was little love lost between Stark and I, but I still regretted that this was the only possible ending to his story. He deserved better from this universe.

My own visions are not perfect, especially when I am under the kind of constraints I was on Titan. My initial impression was that Stark would perish during the final battle against Thanos. So initially I was relieved to realize it was otherwise. It is rather difficult to keep the truth of his existence in another universe from those who love and are missing him, and Peter in particular is not making it easy. He and Mr. Keener are secretly (or what they believe to be secretly, anyway) attempting to seek Stark out, correctly believing he is not dead. If they get far I may have to intervene; Stark is correct in assuming that contact between the universes could be catastrophic, resulting in (among other things) both his and Natasha Romanov’s deaths, or even the potential undoing of the team’s success against Thanos.

As to others who have regrets, there are unfortunately many to choose from in this regard.After all, practically no one listened to Stark when they should have.

For now, however, this particular vision should provide some valuable insights about one in particular.

*

The morning of the memorial, Steve was dozing in a motel room bed. It was a terrible bed even by 40s standards; springs dug into his back every time he moved, and it had a whole series of odors he had to actively work not to recognize. It didn’t really mater, though, because this half-sleep state was the closest he managed to get to actual rest anymore; Bucky had tried to remedy this with several over-the-counter sleep aids, and then some stolen opiates, but the serum burned through everything too fast, leaving Steve vaguely nauseated and even more irritable.

After a few days, even Bucky had mostly stopped coming by. Bucky mourned Tony, and Steve knew he regretted that the two of them had never had a chance to really make peace about everything that had happened in Siberia. But Bucky, like the others, also wanted to get on with the work of re-making the world and his own life, honouring Tony’s sacrifice by not wasting any more time.

For a guy so frequently reminded that he was out of time, Steve felt like he was swimming in the stuff these days. The future he’d fought so hard to preserve was here, laid out before Steve in an endless expanse of unsoiled promise. (He hated it. Hated everything about the idea of a future that didn’t include Tony Stark.)

Bucky knew what Steve was planning. Maybe he wasn’t clear on all the details, but outside of his Winter Soldier persona, Bucky wasn’t a subtle man. His disapproval had been just as easy to spot as the signs of his recent and extremely happy reunion with Sam. (Bucky wanted a future, a life here. He didn’t need Steve anymore, didn’t deserve to be weighted down by Steve’s stagnant refusal to move forward.)

He came suddenly and violently to full consciousness several minutes later when he was hit in the ribs with enough force to make him gasp. Another blow landed against the side of his head, and it was oddly lucky that Steve’s reflexes were as slowed as they were, or he would have responded with lethal force before he could have registered the familiarity of the disheveled curls in his face.

“Peter? The hell?”

The boy looked exactly how Steve felt: as if he had given up. Except while Steve’s approach to hopelessness had been to languish, Peter was just as full of rage and denial as he had been the day of the battle. Steve caught him by the wrists, but Peter was almost wild in his fury, and he struggled with every bit of his enhance strength. They rolled onto the floor, Steve’s head glancing off the corner of the night-table.

“You’re leaving? I heard Barnes telling Wilson last night—Tony did all this to save the world, to save your fucking friend for you, and you’re just LEAVING him and everyone else? Fucking off to the forties to live happily ever after?” If Peter kept landing blows against Steve’s arms and chest with this kind of force, there was a not improbable chance he’d end up hurting himself; reluctant though he was to use his own strength, he rolled them over and pinned the boy’s arms to the floor above his head. “He would have done anything for you, you fucking asshole! You left him half dead in Siberia and he still would have done anything!”

Containing Peter’s body only seemed to intensify his anger, so Steve loosened his grip just enough that the boy could feel it and act. In seconds they were both their feet, and Peter had slammed him against a wall.  (They would be lucky if they made it out of this without having to pay the motel for structural damages.)

Peter held Steve there and screamed until he was hoarse. He shouted accusations and curses and pleas, jumping from one of Steve’s faults to the next with little in the way of logical transition. None of it was anything Steve hadn’t thought of himself in the last several days, but there was still something particularly horrifying about hearing it all laid out by a desperate, broken teenager. (Tony’s desperate and broken teenager. This child was Tony’s just as surely and completely as any child had ever belonged to any parent.)

“What good am I here?” he asked hopelessly when the latest wave of temper had burned itself out. “I was already lost before. Now, the battle’s over, the world is saved…Peter, I’m tired.” This drew a harsh, bitter laugh which never should have emerged from someone as young as Peter. Steve winced.

“I am sixteen years old and I am about to bury my fourth parental figure. I died trying to save the world before I had even told the girl I like that I have a crush on her. Fuck you you’re fucking tired.” He started whaling on Steve’s chest again, but Peter’s strength was finally giving out, and he forgot to tuck his thumb properly on one of the blows. His thumb broke with an audible crack and Peter howled, collapsing onto the floor. “Agh god. Ow ow ow ow—no don’t you fucking touch me.”

For seconds that felt like hours, he watched Peter writhe on the floor. Steve imagined how the sight would have devastated Tony, what the man he loved would have given to cradle his child, soothe his tears and his pain. But it wasn’t just Tony he saw in Peter now. In the boy’s misdirected anger, his sorrow, his inability to even comprehend the scale of his own loss, Steve could see himself reflected just as clearly as when he’d actually battled his younger counterpart. Tony would never have wanted that for Peter, would never have wished for all the worst parts of Steve to take over his son.

Without another word, without pausing one more second to let himself think about the commitment he was making, Steve spun on his heel, seized the ice bucket, and marched down to the ice machine at the end of the hall. It was grimy enough that he wouldn’t have dared exposed the open wound of anyone who wasn’t enhanced to the contents, but for today it would do. He stomped back to the room, lifted Peter’s hand up onto the bed so it sat above his heart, and shoved it not entirely gently into the bucket of ice. Peter made to swear at Steve, maybe even hit him again, but Steve shook his head.

“We’re done with that now. Keep that in there while I try to find something to use as a splint.” Peter settled for glaring while Steve found the cleanest shirt he had in his bag, cut it into strips, and wrapped it carefully around Peter’s red, swollen thumb. “You’re right about…well, about almost everything. I made so many mistakes with Tony, there are more things that I wish I could take back than you even know about. But you can’t go through the world like this, Peter. It’s not what he would have wanted, to see you twisted and broken and cruel. You know that.”

“The hell does it matter to you?” Peter demanded, hissing as he pressed his hand deeper into the ice. “It’s not like you’ll be around to have to pick up the pieces. Not like you ever are.”

“Maybe…maybe this time I will be. For long enough to make sure that Tony’s kid is going to be alright, anyway. I owe him that much, don’t you think?”

“I’m not your absolution. You don’t get to feel better—”

“No,” Steve agreed quickly, before the kid could get himself worked up again. “I don’t get to feel better, not about him. But I loved him and he loved you, so you’re stuck with me until I don’t think you’re at risk of going all supervillain. Or worse…Captain America.” Peter snorted.

“Fat fucking chance.”

“Language.”

“Fuck you, old man.”

Anyway another question for you or for #AskStrange: to the good Doctor, we’ve been told/shown that the other Steve (MCU Steve) loved Tony and was going to admit his feelings. Did our Tony love his original Steve too? Ta.

Ugh, Stark and feelings. My least favourite combination of words. Now, to your question: my impression is that Stark had feelings for Rogers early on in their relationship, but that they were largely nullified by the events of the Civil War. He believed Rogers to have chosen James Barnes over himself in every possible way, so any romantic interest in the man was, while not immediately banished, certainly tainted.

The two did warm to one another considerably during their sojourn to the 1970s; there was, I believe, a very near kiss at one point. But before that particular spark could be much more than slightly fanned, Stark learned of his ties to the Soul Stone, and after that he kept Rogers at arms-length as best he could, fearing he would not live through the final battle against Thanos.