Chapter Text
Steve watched Tony's world fall apart in front of Zemo's screen, felt it like an aching wound in his chest. The moment those eyes were turned on him, he was done. Gone. Kaput. FUBAR.
"Did you know?" Tony asked quietly, voice betraying just the hint of a tremor. Steve swallowed forcibly.
"I didn't know it was him." He replied, but even he couldn't believe in his words. "I-"
"Don't bullshit me, Rogers!" Tony exploded. He took a step forward. "Did you know?"
A pause.
"...Yes."
He couldn't lie. He'd known-he'd guessed. He turned to find Bucky trembling behind him; the only part of him that wasn't shaking was his left arm-solid, gleaming in the low light of the broken cryosleep pods.
"Get out of here," he muttered from the corner of his mouth, watching Tony carefully. He nudged his side. "Buck, go."
Tony raised his arm, repulsors arming. "Don't you fucking move, Barnes."
"It wasn't him, Tony!" Steve cried, stepping in between them. "Tony, listen, Hydra was-"
"Do you even remember them?" Tony demanded, grief-stricken. He ignored Steve, eyes manic, focused on Barnes. "Do you?"
Bucky's face was so cold. His eyes were open and empty. His hands unclenched at his side, as if in defeat.
"I remember all of them."
"This isn't going to change what happened." Steve said, taking the opportunity to push Bucky a few steps behind him. He stood to his full height, praying this wasn't going to come to an all-out brawl. "Tony-"
"I don't care." Tony said, voice icy. "He killed my mom."
Steve leaped just in time to block a burst of of plasma, catching it with the side of his shield. For a second all he could do was stand still, shocked. Tony had fired at them-Tony had fired at him.
He heard Bucky grunt behind him and felt a surge of adrenaline. He pushed his friend roughly, suddenly terrified. "Get out! Move, move!"
Bucky favored his other arm as he dodged the rest of Tony's salvo, face white with pain. Steve saw sparks coming from his left sleeve and barely clamped down on a wave of panic. Focus on escape, then aid. You can do this-
He threw his shield behind him, knocking it into Tony's chest. It wasn't enough to stop him, but the sharp impact made him stumble. He threw it again at one of his boots, gritting his teeth as the rockets there shattered into pieces. "Bucky!"
"M'fine," the other man said, grappling up one of the metal structures, still favoring his right arm. "Steve-"
He cut off as another repulsor beam almost took out his head, ducking and rolling towards the wall. Steve threw his shield again, pain ripping through his chest as he saw Tony's face. No, no no no…
They were almost at the top. He could see clouds-maybe just more snow. Who knew? He felt a repulsor beam just kiss his side and groaned as his uniform burned away, plastic sizzling on his skin. "Bucky, move!"
Alarms blared suddenly, a klaxon roaring in their ears. Steve looked down and saw Tony standing at a switch. Above them, the bunker doors began to close.
"Steve," Bucky swore when he saw the doors, face tight. "We're not gonna make it-"
"On my count," Steve said, refusing to believe anything his friend was about to say. "I'll jump through, then grab your arm."
Tony was down below, effectively grounded by his missing boot. He was banking on them getting trapped by the doors, or at least crushed by them. He didn't think they would try. Steve caught Bucky's eyes and leapt.
He sailed through the gap between the bunker doors, reaching out with all of his might. Half a second later, her felt Bucky's human arm in his palms and yanked. They slipped through barely a square foot of space and tumbled into the snow.
The bunker doors closed behind them with a soft hiss. Steve looked at Bucky, still clenched in his arms, and let out a choked laugh.
The snow stung his hands as he pushed himself up. He could hear the soft echo of Tony yelling into his comm below and knew there wasn't time. Bucky's soft groan startled him out of his thoughts.
"Buck?"
The other man's face was whiter than the snow as he struggled to sit up. Steve felt dawning horror overtake him as his arm drew into sight. The metal had been melted away by the repulsor, leaving barely a stump. Blood bubbled from where the metal had attached to flesh, intermixed with some strange oily liquid. "Holy-"
"M'fine," Bucky said, stumbling to his feet. He wavered a little, lurching towards Steve. "We gotta get outta here. Soon."
Steve grabbed his good arm and threw it over his shoulder. He and Bucky limped towards the plane they'd stolen, blood trailing behind him. He tried not to think about the deja vu Bucky had to be feeling-Christ, but-
"We need s-safehouse," Bucky grit out as they loaded into the plane. He sounded more like his Winter Soldier self-probably a regression from the pain. "Somewhere s-safe or h-he'll f-find us…"
Steve pressed him into the co-pilot seat and gave him a quick shot like Nat had taught him. "It's gonna be okay. I know a guy."
"S'he got a s-safehouse?"
Despite himself, he felt a smile curl his lips. "I think it's the safest house in the entire world."
Bucky nodded, eyes already closing. "Good…"
Steve watched him fall unconscious and steeled himself. He looked at the comm on the dashboard and sighed. Swallowing his pride hadn't always hurt, had it?
He picked up the comm and swore to himself. Just once. No one heard it. It felt really, really good.
"Fuck."
It was three a.m. on a Saturday, and Bruce Wayne-rather, Brucie Wayne-had just completed his weekend circuit of clubs, hotels and luxury suites. He stripped off his tie and threw it over the chair in his study, frowning as it teetered closer to the lit fireplace.
Alfred always insisted on "warming" him up after these jaunts-some sort of inside joke or metaphor he wasn't going anywhere near. The butler was probably hiding out in the kitchen, sipping his sherry like he thought Bruce wouldn't notice.
The key problem with that was only Alfred would drink sherry in the first place, let alone keep a cabinet of several different flavors in the wine cellar.
"Dick?" He called out, stretching his shoulders. The silk shirt strained with the movement, so he undid the first few buttons. "I swear to God, you better be ready for patrol or I'll-"
"You'll what? Glare me to death?"
Bruce looked up to see Dick hanging from his chandelier, feet pressed carefully against the metal frame. His blue eyes shone in the darkness. "Always an option. When I'm feeling merciful, that is."
"You talk like a machiavellian villain." Dick sing songed, jumping off of the chandelier and flipping gracefully to the ground. His eyes caught on Bruce's collarbone. "I don't think Brucie could even spell merciful."
Bruce sighed, and wiped away the lipstick at his throat. "You know it's a good cover. Now suit up, or I'll call Kent."
"Oh, what's Clark gonna do to little ole me?" Dick asked, raising an eyebrow. "Apologize for being too nice? Give me a foot rub?"
"...tell your little Titan friends about the time you shit your pants in the Batmobile?" Bruce feigned shock. "Oh wait. I'd tell them that. But I'd make sure to tell Clark first. I know how highly you think of his opinion."
Dick blanched, eyes narrowing. Bruce watched the mirror of his own glare and couldn't help but smile. "You're going down, Brucie."
"Bring it, shitpants." Bruce hissed, pointing towards the basement. "Wheels up in fifteen. Vamanos."
Dick sent him a murderous glare and left the study, pausing to kick his tie into the lit fire. Bruce sighed as the $1500 piece of silk burned to a crisp, already imagining Alfred's lecture. His comm buzzed suddenly at his side, startling him.
"What?"
"Open your front door," a semi-familiar voice grunted. "Now."
Bruce narrowed his eyes and turned towards his desktop computer. He flicked the cameras on, unsettled. He was groaning before he could help himself. "Go the fuck away, Rogers."
"We need your help!" the Captain grunted. Bruce saw him shift the other man in his arms and-oh no. That wasn't who he thought it was. "Tony's after us, and Bucky is injured and-"
"Try the hospital. Rumor has it, they're really great at fixing that sort of thing." Bruce replied, flippant. "And if Tony's mad at you, I say good riddance."
"Bruce, I swear to God-"
"Have you tried Viagra yet? Because-"
Roger's face went red. "Wayne, you open this fucking door or I will-"
Bruce gasped dramatically. "Did Captain America just swear?"
"Don't talk about me like I'm not here, Bruce, I swear to God-"
"Are you going to find a boombox and play eighties love songs through my window?" Bruce grinned. "I'd like that. Maybe your pet assassin there could do backup."
"Bruce, it's Tony." Rogers gasped out, slumping against his door. "He's gonna kill us. We need your help. Please."
"Fine," he flipped the button under his desk, opening the door. "Come in and tell me your tale of woe. I swear. I'll only laugh once. Maybe twice."
The pair stumbled into the foyer, the Winter Soldier barely conscious in his friend's (lover?) arms. Bruce sighed and switched to Dick's line. "Cancel that patrol. We've got guests."
Dick was quiet for a moment. "It better not be fucking Clark, I swear to all things holy, Bruce I will-"
"Accompany me downstairs? Great. You're the best, Dick!" He shut off his comm and trudged for the stairs. Fuck my life, he thought. Stupid fucking Captain America and-
But Tony was involved somehow. Tony was mad at them, and now he was sheltering them in his own home. Fugitives at large. Well, he was a vigilante, wasn't he?
He snuck into the pantry and found Alfred with his third glass of sherry. The butler looked momentarily shocked, then composed his features. "Did you need something, sir?"
"A late dinner for four," Bruce said curtly, raising an eyebrow. "And maybe some vodka. Kirkland, if you have it."
"Kirkland?" Alfred's eyes widened. "That is a brand sold at Costco, sir. It wouldn't be-"
"I know Dick keeps a stash under the floorboards. If you'd like to keep your sherry shelf, you'll do as I say."
Alfred stood, straightening his clothes. He placed the sherry glass behind him. "I can't fathom what you're referencing, sir."
"Of course, Alfred."
Bucky was in pain-no, the asset was in pain. He was in pain. The world was ice-hot around him, blurring in and out of focus. He could feel Steve's arms around him, tight, and relaxed into their weight. He couldn't move the metal, the arm, he-
Voices argued above him, back and forth. He could hear Steve and tensed as his words grew louder, more distressed. At one point he swore he heard laughter.
Suddenly he was sitting down, pain spiraling through his arm. He screamed and clutched at Steve, the world brightening into sudden clarity.
"There we go," a smooth baritone said above him. Something wet was on his skin. He looked up at the speaker and saw a bottle of-something? "He's coming out of it. Hold him. Carefully."
"Steve…"
Steve patted his shoulder. "You back with us?"
"I…" He looked at the man, still holding the jug. "Who the fuck are you?"
"Definitely not a friend," the man said, settling back on his heels. He was very handsome-angular cheekbones and a strong jaw. Dark hair overshadowed brilliant blue eyes. Aristocratic, even. "You were being overloaded by the dying mechanic in your arm-or what's left of it. I knocked out the remaining battery with the careful application of-"
"Vodka?" Bucky sputtered, finally tasting it on his lips. "You dumped vodka on me?"
The man wrinkled his nose. "It's the cheap stuff, don't worry. Pretend you're at a frat party. People used to do this all the time when I was in college."
"Bucky, meet Bruce Wayne." Steve squeezed his good shoulder, focusing him. They were in an open living room, grand walls and ceilings stretching over them. "We're in Gotham, at his house."
"This is your idea of a safe house?" Bucky asked, assessing Wayne in a quick flick of his eyes. "Some millionaire yahoo in the most dangerous city in America?"
"Yahoo?" Wayne exclaimed, putting a hand to his chest. Bucky noticed a smaller man behind him as he moved. "Dick, am I a yahoo now? Is that what the cool kids are saying?"
"You've always been a yahoo," Dick replied angrily. He was eying the vodka bottle, mouth pursed. "And an asshole."
"Bruce's house is the safest place we could be right now," Steve assured him. "It's going to be okay. He'll fix you."
"I'm sorry, but I don't think throwing money at the problem is going to help us," Bucky replied, gritting his teeth as a phantom wave of pain washed over him. "Tony's gonna find us, he's gonna kill me, and you-"
"Ye of little faith," Wayne said, shaking his head. He waved a hand, distracting him. "It's almost like all of my degrees in bio-med and physics and chemistry and engineering and psychology are worthless, huh? They're all doctorates too, what a pity."
Dick punched him on the shoulder. "I didn't know you had doctorates."
"Of course I do," Wayne said arrogantly. "Would take a doctor to fix your fucked up head. Don't even get me started on Jason."
"Fuck you."
"Maybe later." Wayne smirked, but the expression slid off his face as soon as it arrived. He inched a little closer to Bucky, who watched him warily.
"I'm not Tony when it comes to machines, but I'm damn close. I can take a look at your arm if you want. And Captain Rogers is right-nobody, not even Tony, can get in here without my permission."
Bucky stared at him, listing a little in Steve's arms. "Your voice sounds so familiar…"
Wayne smirked, rising to his feet. "I'm a billionaire. I'm sure you've seen me on TV before."
Steve snorted at that, which surprised him. He turned to look at his friend. "You sure?"
"I'm sure." Steve nodded. "Let's get you to the infirmary, huh?"
"You've been here before?"
Wayne chuckled this time, leading the way with a carefully-manicured hand. "Sergeant Barnes. If you would…"
"Sergeant Barnes," Dick repeated, trailing after his-what, dad? Mentor? "So cool."
Wayne opened a clear glass door for them, revealing a pristine hallway, humming with machines. He kept close to Steve's side, expression unreadable.
"You pissed off Tony. Was it the accords?"
Steve's face was carefully guarded. "Something worse. Bucky. Not his fault though."
Wayne hummed thoughtfully. "His parents."
"How did you know that?"
The other man shrugged. "Only thing that could piss him off this badly. And maybe I hacked a few SHIELD records on my day off."
Dick mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like you don't take days off, getting a smack from Bruce. Steve still looked worried, so far away from his usual charming self.
"Are you gonna turn us in?"
Wayne's mouth twisted. "No."
"He's your friend."
"Doesn't mean he's right."
Steve slowed their pace, watching Wayne carefully. "Feeling suddenly charitable? A little more philanthropy before you go to sleep never hurt."
"You know nothing about how I feel." Wayne told him, something in his voice warning them off. Bucky frowned. "Now move."
Steve swallowed once and acquiesced, pulling Bucky with him. He felt a twinge of outrage on his friend's behalf.
"You're letting him pull rank on you, Stevie? He probably couldn't take Hitler's dead body in a fight."
"You'd be surprised," Steve said, pulling him into the room Wayne had entered. "Now go sit down and let him fix you."
Bucky attempted a half-hearted salute, earning a small smile from his friend.
"Yes, sir."