Reading Time: 90 Minutes

Title: Unbreak Broken
Author: enigmaticblue
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Apocalypse, Dimension Travel, Romance
Relationship(s): Bruce Banner/Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff/James “Bucky” Barnes
Content Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None
Beta: thomasina75
Word Count: 100,776
Summary: In a dying world, Steve, Natasha, and Tony decide to use an escape hatch to a parallel universe, one that might need three superheroes. Their arrival shakes everything up.
Artist: startabby

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Part III

Then

Natasha sits down at a long table, at Tony’s left hand, and he’s hollow-eyed and weary. She knows he’s been working hard, and the evidence of that is obvious, even if they don’t have much in the way of results to show for it.

She looks at Steve, sitting across the table from her, and he’s similarly weary. When Natasha had first defected, Steve had been clean shaven and his hair short. These days, his hair is longer and he has a full beard. Tony keeps his hair shorn close to his skull, and has ever since his parents had been killed, since his father isn’t around to ride him on keeping up appearances.

Today marks their first meeting with Stephen Strange, who sought them out after Tony put out a call for assistance.

“What can we expect from this guy?” Steve asks Tony.

“He was a surgeon who lost the use of his hands after a car accident,” Tony replies. “Got into the mystic arts, and that actually pains me to say. He said he might have a solution for us, but I have no idea what that might be, and he was cryptic in his message.”

Tony glances over at Natasha. “Anything to add?”

Natasha has done her own research and surveillance, although she hasn’t had much time. “Nothing to add. He lives in New York City, and I didn’t see anyone other than him coming or going from his residence.”

Tony nods wearily. “Well, I’m willing to resort to just about anything, including magic, because that’s what it’s going to take to save the planet.”

At this point, Tony has spent the decade since the loss of his parents trying to reverse the damage, to no avail, and they all know that time is running out. Famine is widespread, and only Tony’s resources ensure they’re fed. They’ve had one novel virus outbreak, and it hit the weakened population hard.

The world is darker and colder than it was ten years ago, and it’s going to get darker and colder still.

One of the compound’s assigned guards knocks sharply on the door as a warning, and then opens the door. Dr. Stephen Strange enters, wearing a blue tunic and trousers that seem to come from another century, as well as a rather ostentatious red cape.

It’s a mark of Tony’s weariness that he doesn’t even comment on Strange’s clothing. “Tony Stark,” he says. “Thank you for coming. I appreciate you reaching out in response to my call. This is Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanova.”

Natasha barely manages to prevent herself from startling when she sees the third eye open in the center of his forehead. “I have expended a great deal of effort trying to find a solution to our current crisis,” Strange says with a nod to each of them. He touches the pendant hanging around his neck. “The Eye of Agamotto allows me to see potential futures, and I have delved deep, reviewing a number of them.”

“How many?” Tony asks.

“14.2 million,” Strange replies. “There is some small possibility that the end may be reversed, but the chances are very small indeed.”

Tony nods, appearing to take that in. “I see. I doubt you would have asked for a meeting if the answer is that you don’t have one.”

“There is another possibility, but it is perhaps even more of a long shot,” Strange admits. “But I would rather wait until I know that possibility is open to us.”

Tony inclines his head. “All right. Let’s hear about your very slim chance, then.”

Strange puts his scarred hands on the table. “First, I’m going to need a guarantee from you.”

Tony seems to hesitate, and then he says, “I’m going to need to know what your request is before I can agree.”

Strange’s smile is thin. “I’m glad you’re not an idiot. I’d like your guarantee that I’ll have the resources I need, at least in terms of food. I don’t expect that you’ll be able to help in my research.”

Tony nods. “Done. Will you stay here, or no?”

“I will do better at the Sanctum Santorum,” Strange replies. “But I don’t eat much. I won’t need much in the way of resources.”

Tony nods. “Then we’ll discuss what you need and provide supplies to the best of our ability.”

Strange’s shoulders relax at that, and his third eye closes, then disappears. Natasha realizes that at least some of that had been posturing, that he had been truly worried about his ability to tap into resources, and that he needs them just as much—if not more—than they need him. “Thank you,” he says.

Tony gives him a long look, and then he simply says, “We’re grateful for your help.”

The Tony of ten years ago probably wouldn’t have been so gracious, but Natasha has seen him change, mostly because who he is has been pared away slowly over time as he lost almost everything.

Tony isn’t giving up, but Natasha has seen resignation on his face a few times, and it’s only become more present since Banner’s death.

The truth is that Tony isn’t ready to give up, but that doesn’t mean he won’t be ready in time.

“I have traveled all over the world, and there are only a few places that appear to be untouched by calamity. I believe it’s because they are touched by a deep well of magic,” Strange begins.

Tony grimaces, but he doesn’t say anything in response.

“I realize that makes you uncomfortable,” Strange says snidely.

Tony shrugs. “I’m a man of science, so yes, it does make me a little uncomfortable, but I haven’t found a scientific solution after years of looking. To be blunt, that’s why you’re here. I wouldn’t have entertained the idea otherwise.”

Natasha is actually impressed at how Tony is handling this. He’s undoubtedly the leader in this room, and while Natasha can see a slight tremble in his hand as he raises his glass of water, he shows no other sign of stress.

Strange inclines his head. “I was a man of science, too, until circumstances forced me to look into the mystical arts.”

“And here we find ourselves,” Tony says in agreement. “So, what do you suggest we do with these locations?”

“If I have the proper resources, I can try to see if there’s a way to transmit that to other locations,” Strange replies. “My abilities have been limited until now.”

Natasha understands what he means. Magic takes resources, and he’s running out of them.

“Then we’ll make sure you have what you need,” Tony replies.

“It’s appreciated,” Strange replies.

“I’ll let our quartermaster know,” Tony says. “I expect weekly updates, even if that update is that there’s nothing new to report. If this plan has to be abandoned for the possibility that you mentioned, I want to hear about it, so we can make some decisions.”

Strange nods. “Of course, Mr. Stark.”

“I think you can call me Tony,” he replies. “We’re going to be working together, and Mr. Stark was my father.”

Strange cracks a smile at that, and it’s a real one for the first time since he’d swanned into the room. “And I’m Stephen.”

“Welcome aboard, Stephen,” Tony says.

And that’s how the end begins.

Now

Tony isn’t sure how he feels about their Mexican sanctuary being invaded by a stranger. He told Bruce that he’s fine with it, but that’s mostly because he knows Bruce doesn’t have a lot of options.

Rhodes is coming, whether they like it or not, and Bruce has to deal with him going forward.

Tony doesn’t plan on being in the spotlight at all if he can help it.

He can tell that Bruce is nervous about the outcome of the visit, and Tony wonders about the nature of their relationship, and how Bruce really feels about Rhodes.

They get the notification that Rhodes is going to be there for lunch, and Bruce puts together a meal of fried snapper and salad. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s well prepared as most of Bruce’s food is, and it’s ready by the time Rhodes lands on the beach, the suit of armor opening to allow him to step out.

Tony is probably never going to to get used to the sight, and he doesn’t want to; he never wants to take any of this for granted.

Rhodes is much as Tony remembers him, a lean Black man with a wiry build and weary expression.

“Banner, good to see you,” Rhodes says, shaking Bruce’s hand with an eye on Tony.

“You, too,” Bruce replies, then turns to Tony. “You knew our version of him, but this is Tony Stark.”

Rhodes is looking at Tony almost as though he’s seen a ghost, but his expression is also uncertain, and Tony knows that he’s cataloguing the differences and realizing that they’re two different people.

He’s seen pictures; Tony knows that he looks a lot different than this universe’s version, and he’s not planning on changing his hair or beard any time soon for that very reason.

Rhodes sucks in a breath between his teeth and says, “You know what? Let’s just start from scratch. I’m James Rhodes. I answer to Jim or Rhodey, whatever makes you more comfortable.”

“Tony Stark,” he replies. “Tony works for me.”

“Good to meet you,” Rhodes says.

“Come inside,” Bruce invites. “I just need to finish up lunch real quick.”

Rhodes gives him a look. “You didn’t have to cook.”

“You’re here for lunch, so someone did,” Bruce counters. “If you didn’t want to eat, you could have come during a period where no meals were being served.”

There’s a moment where Rhodes just looks at him, and then inclines his head. “Point made, Banner.”

“Good,” Bruce replies, and there’s some kind of undercurrent there that Tony definitely has no clue about.

They head inside, and Bruce starts the burner to heat the oil, then coats the fish in flour.

“So, what have you two been up to?” Rhodes asks, sounding genuinely interested.

Tony looks to Bruce, who says, “Mostly some green energy projects for Stark Industries. You know Pepper announced that SI was going to focus on those measures, so we’re carrying that out.”

Rhodes nods. “I’m sure she appreciates having you two working on it, since they’re key to SI’s public relations strategy for this year.”

“Do you have something to share?” Bruce asks.

Rhodes shrugs. “We’re still friendly, Banner. We’ve been friendly for years.”

Tony is really confused by the undercurrents now, and he doesn’t know quite how to navigate these waters.

Bruce glances over at him, and Tony just shrugs.

“Let’s keep the topic of conversation on the present day,” Bruce finally says mildly. “There’s no need to shut Tony out just because he doesn’t know who or what we’re talking about.”

Rhodes looks at Tony, and his expression softens. “Yeah, okay. Sorry. I just…” He trails off. “It’s been a rough six months.”

“What Jim isn’t saying is that he got kidnapped by aliens,” Bruce says lightly. “And he’s still discombobulated.”

“How do you get kidnapped by aliens?” Tony asks. “Because there were plenty of times in my life when I would have given anything to be kidnapped by aliens.”

Tony isn’t sure if the joke will land, but Rhodes laughs. “I heard that parallel universe was rough.”

“You could say that,” Tony says. “We had famine, plagues, drought, name your poison.”

Rhodes sits down next to him. “Tell me about it. Did you—was there a version of me there?”

Tony shrugs. “Yeah, but you were so far up my dad’s ass, I’m not sure you ever noticed me.”

“Your dad?” Rhodes asks, and then he shakes his head. “Why do I think I know anything? Was he still around?”

“No, he and my mom were killed when I was in my thirties, about 15 years ago,” Tony replies, relieved by the non-judgmental question, asked with real interest.

Rhodes grimaces. “What happened?”

“Obadiah Stane betrayed us,” Tony replies. “He arranged for my parents’ deaths at the hands of Ukrainian rebels, and they probably would have killed me, too, if they hadn’t wanted me to build a weapon for them.”

“Well, fuck, things echo, I guess,” Rhodes mutters. “Stane did the same thing to you here, just later, and under slightly different circumstances.”

Tony finds himself unbend a bit at that. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Did you still build a suit of armor?” Rhodes asks.

“I wanted to,” Tony replies. “I built an device to replace the car battery, but I didn’t have the time or opportunity to build a full suit of armor. Or the resources, if I’m being honest. Steve helped rescue me, but I knew from the time I got captured that Steve would find me.”

For some reason, Rhodes flinches at that. “How old were you when you met Steve?”

“Ah, I don’t know?” Tony replies. “Twenty? He’s been around since I was basically a kid.”

Rhodes nods slowly. “Yeah, I get that. I heard you were close with Natasha, too.”

“Yeah, she defected shortly before my parents were killed,” Tony admits. “Steve and I did her intake interview, because we knew she’d worked with the Winter Soldier in the past. I don’t know. We connected immediately, you know? It was just a thing.”

“That is not an echo,” Rhodes says with a laugh. “You two were friends in the end, but it was definitely a hard-fought battle.”

Tony shrugs. “Maybe if I’d met her under different circumstances. That’s the thing, isn’t it? First impressions are important.”

Rhodes smiles. “Yeah, you could say that. What else was going on?”

Tony really wants to know more about space travel and alien abductions, but he’s fine answering Rhodes’ questions at this point. He talks about the first meeting he had with Stephen Strange, and Rhodes laughs as Tony describes the ridiculous cloak.

“I wanted to say something so badly,” Tony confesses. “He swishes in with his ridiculous cloak, but we needed his help. I couldn’t risk alienating him, no offense.”

Rhodes blinks. “Why no offense?”

“‘Alienating?’” Tony asks.

Rhodes throws back his head and laughs. “Yeah, I’m not that precious, Tony. Never change.”

Tony glances at Bruce, hoping for some direction. Bruce just pulls the fish out of the hot oil, dividing the fillets between three plates next to piles of salad. “He’s right, Tony. You’re not the same person he was, and you shouldn’t try to be.”

Sometimes he wonders if he would have liked that other version of himself, but he also knows it’s pointless to think about. He can’t change what he’s done, or what he’s been through. He can only be the person that he is.

“I wasn’t planning to change,” Tony says. “I can only be who I am.”

“This looks really good, Banner,” Rhodes says sitting down at the table across from Tony.

“I aim to please.” Bruce sits down with his own plate, an ocean breeze blowing in through the room, ruffling his hair. “And the fresh fish here can’t really be beat.”

“He’s not wrong about that,” Tony agrees, picking up his fork. The coating on the fish has a pleasant crunch, as does the lightly dressed salad.

Tony has noticed that Bruce tends to cook with fresh ingredients, and he suspects that at least part of that is because he knows how much Tony craves it. He doesn’t think he’s going to get over having ready access to fresh food any time soon.

He applies himself to his meal, and notices that Rhodes does the same.

Bruce doesn’t say much as he’s eating either, apparently deciding to let the focus be on their excellent meal.

When they’ve finished eating, Rhodes leans back from the table and admits, “That was great. I have to admit, I knew you could cook, but not this well.”

“I’ve been getting more practice recently,” Bruce says mildly. “But thank you.”

Tony clears his throat. “Honestly, I want to hear about space travel. I get that alien abduction might be traumatic, and you don’t have to talk about it, but we never got the chance to even dream about space travel.”

“I wouldn’t mind hearing about what Carol is up to,” Bruce adds.

Rhodes smiles briefly. “Yeah, I can do that, no problem. Carol said to say hello, by the way.”

Bruce looks pleased by that. “And how is she doing?”

“She’s doing great,” Rhodes replies, then looks at Tony, probably realizing that Tony doesn’t know who she is. “An ally, currently working as some version of a space cop, for lack of a better explanation. All of the Avengers have a standing invitation, by the way.”

Tony isn’t sure what that means. “A standing invitation?”

“Exploration, or help, whatever’s on offer from you,” Rhodes says. “We ended Thanos, and reversed the deaths of billions. We can write our own ticket, and no one is going to care that you’re from a parallel universe, if you even choose to tell them.”

Tony isn’t sure how he feels about that, about trading on another man’s legacy, but maybe he shouldn’t mind so much. He’d traded on his father’s legacy, after all.

The idea of being able to travel to space, though, is more tempting than Tony would like to admit, especially given how much work there is on this planet.

“We should think about it,” Bruce says. “Maybe not right now, or not for a little while, but we could always take a break, you know.”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Tony replies. “I would love to experience space.”

Rhodes’ expression softens. “Well, let me tell you a little about what you can expect. Carol has been spending a lot of time around Knowhere, which has become a hub for activity of a lot of different races.”

Rhodes starts to describe a couple of the missions they’d gone on, one to retrieve a high-ranking Kree officer who had been kidnapped. Carol has her own ship, but Rhodes’ suit is space-worthy in the short term, and she can apparently survive the vacuum of space, so sometimes they just flew.

“The nano suits should suffice,” Bruce says. “We can make that work if we go, and I think we should.”

“There might be some scientific discoveries you could make,” Rhodes offers. “Things that could help your current projects.”

“True,” Bruce replies.

Tony appreciates hearing the stories, and he wonders how Steve would respond to knowing that he isn’t just limited to the humans on earth. Or that he’s not limited to humans. “We should bring Steve with us.”

Bruce glances at him, a smile curling his lips. “Oh?”

“Finding out that there’s an entire universe of people he can sleep with?” Tony asks.

Rhodes frowns. “What?”

“This version of Steve is..” Bruce trails off, apparently having trouble finding the right word, which Tony has no problem providing.

“He’s a slut,” Tony says bluntly. “He likes to fuck, and he’s good at it, too.”

Rhodes blinks. “And again I say, what?” He looks at Bruce, who just shrugs.

“His potential girlfriend was dead when he got thawed out,” Tony adds. “And we knew we’d probably die. Food was scarce, water was scarce, security was tight out of necessity, the environment was fucked. The only thing that was a reliable source of pleasure was sex.”

Rhodes closes his eyes. “Did you—“

“Neither of us felt that limiting ourselves to just half the population was smart, not with the small population we had,” Tony admits. “And when we were lonely, yeah. Steve is a good time. He’d probably fuck you. You’re his type.”

He mostly says it to get a rise out of Rhodes, because Tony can be a shit at times.

Rhodes snorts. “You’re still a bit of a troll, Tony.”

Tony isn’t quite sure what that means, and Bruce adds, “He means someone who stirs shit up on purpose.”

Tony shrugs unrepentantly. “Still, forewarned is forearmed. Steve is gracious about taking a no.”

“Good to know,” Rhodes says faintly. “Anything else I should be aware of? I’m heading to the compound next.”

“I think that’s about it,” Tony says cheerfully.

Rhodes pushes back from the table. “Well, it’s been informative, and I appreciate lunch, Banner. Tony, it was nice to meet you. Thanks for the warning.”

Tony accepts the outstretched hand with his own. “Nice to meet you as well. Good luck.”

“I appreciate that,” Rhodes says.

They follow Rhodes outside to where the suit of armor is still waiting. Rhodes just has to step into it, and the armor basically forms around him. Rhodes shoots off, and Tony says, “Didn’t you say that the other version of me gave him his suit?”

“His nano suit works the same way the last one did,” Bruce explains. “I think it’s mostly nostalgia.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Tony replies. He slings an arm around Bruce’s shoulders. “I think we should work off some energy before we get back to work.”

Bruce snorts. “You’re not talking about surfing or swimming.”

“Hardly,” Tony says. “What do you say?”

Bruce turns and pulls Tony in for a long, warm kiss. “I say yes. Why waste the time we have?”

And Tony just pulls Bruce back into the house, back to the bedroom they’ve been sharing, and Bruce pushes him back on the bed.

Bruce straddles Tony’s hips, and Tony goes pliant beneath him. He wants to feel Bruce, to have Bruce’s attention on him, and he just wants—

“I can give you what you want,” Bruce says, opening the button on Tony’s jeans. “I’ll give you everything you want.”

It’s a promise that Tony has no trouble believing.

~~~~~

Natasha wakes up to the chime of James’ phone, and he gropes for it blindly, staring blearily at the screen. “Fuck. Rhodes is going to be here in a few hours.”

She glances at the clock. “We should probably get up anyway. It’s almost noon.”

“We wore each other out,” James counters. “We deserved to sleep in.”

Natasha presses a kiss to his bare, right shoulder. “Hm, yes, no question. But it is also nearly noon, and I’ve slept myself out.”

James groans. “Surely, there’s a universe in which we just spend our days and nights in bed.”

“Well, from what I understand, the multiverse is full of infinite possibilities,” Natasha replies. “So, surely there is some universe in which we are independently wealthy, and someone just brings us whatever we need so that we can fuck each other’s brains out every day. Alas, that is not the world we are currently living in.”

James pouts. “Nat.”

“We sit around a lot, and we need to keep our skills sharp, so up,” Natasha replies. “I’m hungry, we have training, and Rhodes is on his way. We should take care of things in that exact order.”

James is one who responds well to firm requests. “As you wish.”

He rolls out of bed and pulls on the closest clean clothing he has to hand. Natasha finds a pair of clean leggings and a t-shirt, her preferred clothing, although she likes to spar in leggings and a sports bra.

“FRIDAY, where’s Steve?” Natasha asks.

“He went for a run with Mr. Wilson, Agent Romanova,” FRIDAY replies promptly.

“Well, I guess we don’t have to worry about those two for a while,” James says.

James makes a couple of grilled cheese sandwiches, serving them with pickles and carrots. Natasha isn’t going to get over fresh vegetables any time soon, and James knows that.

Plus, pickles. Natasha loves pickles, and these are crunchy. The pickles she’s used to are not crunchy, because they’ve been canned for so long. James used three kinds of cheese on their sandwiches, and Natasha can’t identify any of them, but the combination is delicious.

“I should probably figure something out for dinner, especially if Rhodes is going to be here,” James says. “Maybe pasta, that’s easy. Although, knowing Bruce, he’ll have done something impressive.”

“Are you competing with him?” Natasha asks, amused.

“I compete with everyone,” James says. “But I should call him. He would probably have an idea.”

“Do what you like, James, but I’m sure whatever you make will be fine, however simple it might be. Someone experiencing a fresh meal shouldn’t voice a complaint.”

“Rhodes wouldn’t,” James says absently. “He’s a good guy. Okay, just an easy pasta, then. We have everything we need for that.”

Natasha had never been in a position to cook. There hadn’t even been the possibility. She supposes it’s a skill that she could pick up, but James doesn’t seem to mind, and she rather enjoys watching someone else prepare food.

One they’ve eaten, they head for the training room. There’s no bet, so they start off slowly, just easing into it. James’ fighting style is a little different than she remembers, enough to keep things interesting.

They’re in the middle of their warm up when Steve enters with Sam in tow, and she and James break apart by unspoken accord.

“You guys don’t have to stop,” Steve says.

“You’re here for a reason,” James replies. “We could put on a program if you want.”

Steve hesitates. “I was actually kind of hoping to spar with you, Bucky. It’s been a long time.”

The smile that breaks out over James’ face is beautiful. “So, you’re saying you want to cut in?”

“I’d like to see that arm in action,” Steve replies. “I never got to see it in our universe.”

James crooks his fingers, and Natasha falls back to stand with Sam. She doesn’t think James will take it easy on him, and she knows Steve won’t hold back, not unless it’s with a weaker team member.

“How you doin’?” Sam asks with a warm smile that tells Natasha he’s actually interested in a real answer.

She shrugs. “You know, I would tell you that I’m doing well, but I’m always afraid of jinxing it.”

Sam laughs. “Yeah, well, trauma will do that to you. Make it so you can’t even appreciate the good things when they happen because you’re too afraid there’s another bad thing around the corner.”

“That sounds about right,” Natasha says. “Although it could also be because I’m Russian.”

Sam chuckles. “One does not cancel out the other. You can be both traumatized and Russian, or even traumatized because you’re Russian.”

“The latter is probably not far from the truth,” Natasha admits.

Her attention hasn’t strayed from the fight during their conversation, and Steve does a flip that Natasha had taught him, and that she hasn’t yet used against James. It clearly takes James by surprise and lays him flat out.

Sam makes a surprised noise, and Natasha just smirks. “Good job, solnishko. Keep it up.”

“You taught him that?” Sam asks.

Natasha shrugs. “We taught each other, and Tony. He’s not as interested in sparring as we are, but we both made sure he could defend himself, especially after the kidnapping in Ukraine.”

“Is that where he got the arc reactor?” Sam asks.

“That’s where, and where his parents were killed,” Natasha says. “Being a better fighter wouldn’t have changed anything, but it might the next time he finds himself in a bind.”

Steve pulls out another trick, but this time, James is ready for him and blocks the kick that Steve tries as he flips. James manages to grab Steve’s ankle and twist, putting Steve on his back, although he immediately kips up.

James doesn’t give him much time to recover before renewing his attack, moving like a cyclone, his fists and feet moving so quickly that Natasha is struggling to make out the individual strikes.

Steve grins fiercely, and he’s obviously enjoying the challenge. “I think you could do better, Buck.”

“I could do better?” James asks. “What about you? You won’t be able to use the same trick twice. I’ve been sparring with Natasha.”

“I’m sure she hasn’t shown you all her tricks,” Steve counters. “And I have a few of my own that you haven’t seen yet.”

Natasha leans back against the wall, looking for weaknesses, knowing that she’s probably going to go up against one or both of them yet today. Plus, she can learn something about how James moves, and provide both of them with feedback.

“I think you and I could go next,” Sam says.

Natasha gives him a side eye. “I will break you.”

“I spar with Bucky all the time,” Sam protests. “I’ve learned a few things, and I might surprise you.”

Natasha shrugs. “It’s your funeral, I suppose.”

When Steve and James break apart for the last time, they’ve both worked up a sweat, and Natasha says, “Steve, that was good, but you’re still weak on the left. James, you were going easy on him.”

“For maybe ten minutes,” James replies. “It took me a bit to get into the groove.”

Natasha shakes her head. “Ten minutes can mean the difference between winning a fight and tying. Ten seconds can do that.”

“Fair enough,” James agrees. “Let’s see the two of you go, then.”

Natasha is fairly sure that Sam would be a completely different opponent if he had his shield, but without that his skills are fairly basic—at least from her perspective. Natasha finds herself shifting into teaching mode almost immediately, with Steve and James assisting.

“I do much better with my wings and my shield,” Sam complains.

“And if you lose your shield and the wings break, you’ll be left with fists and boots,” James says. “We’ve talked about this before.”

“But you’re not nearly as good a teacher as these two,” Sam protests. “You just get grumpy and stomp off.”

Steve frowns at James. “You can’t help your partner?”

“He didn’t mention that he gets bitchy right before I get grumpy,” James protests.

“That’s because you keep thinking that everyone’s a super soldier, and I can do everything you can do!” Sam snarks back.

Natasha meets Steve’s eyes, and she can see when they both decide to just take a step back and watch the show.

“You can do more than half the shit I do when you have your wings and shield, and you pout when you don’t have them!” James says.

“Usually because you’re the one who got me into the situation in the first place!”

“Oh, and what about the last time?” James asks. “If I recall correctly, that was me rescuing you! Because someone else got the better of you!”

“That was a totally different situation.” Sam says. “And under totally different circumstances.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that I saved your fucking ass,” James says. “And do I get credit for that? No. You’re always coming up with reasons why I’m in the wrong.”

Sam throws up his hands. “That’s not what I’m trying to do!”

“That’s what it feels like!” James shoots back.

“Or perhaps you two should just work out your differences by fighting it out,” Natasha suggests. “Rather than trading words with no meaning. You did this, he did that, who the fuck cares? You’re on the same team, you have the same mission, and arguing wastes energy.”

James glances at Sam. “Is that what we were doing?”

Sam snorts. “No, I think we were engaging in the platonic version of foreplay. FRIDAY, call up our usual scenario. Let’s show these people what we have going for us.”

Natasha and Steve press back against the wall.

And that’s the thing, Natasha can see how in tune they are with each other, how they work with each other. For all their bickering, it doesn’t really matter. Sam and James act in tandem when faced with an enemy.

When the enemies appear, they move quickly, Sam rolling over James’ back, James calling to Sam to duck when he needs to.

They’re brilliantly in sync, and they spin off each other. When they defeat the scenario easily, James grins at them. “Your turn now. Let’s see what you can do.”

Natasha glances at Steve. “Shall we?”

“We shall,” Steve says. “Let’s show them how it’s done.”

Their sparring is fierce and hot, both of them moving through the moves quickly. Natasha tries out a new move, a double kick to the sternum and head, but is rebuffed both times. Steve tries the same. He attempts to sweep Natasha’s legs, but he’s still telegraphing his moves.

Eventually, Steve falls back. “This was good, but we should get anyone else willing to participate here. We need to be able to fight as a team.”

“Yeah, that might be doable,” Sam says. “At least I can ask.”

“In the meantime, I’m going to grab a shower and start dinner,” James says. “You all can do what you like.”

Sam follows James out, but Natasha sits down on the floor and asks, “How are you doing?”

Steve joins her. “I miss Tony. Not because of the sex, I just miss him. He gave us balance, and it’s shitty that we don’t have him here.”

“Doesn’t mean that we can’t go down to Mexico,” Natasha says. “We could to down, have our usual puppy pile, and everything will be good.”

“We’ll keep that in reserve just in case,” Steve replies. “It was really good today, wasn’t it?”

“It was great,” Natasha says. “But we should take you to a bar, because you need to get your rocks off.”

“Thank you for recognizing that,” Steve replies.

“Then let’s have dinner, and we can find a place to go,” Natasha says.

Then

“So, look, Steve needs to get laid,” Tony says, sitting down next to her in the compound’s cafeteria. “You’re in charge of finding a location, and I’ll cover transportation.”

That’s a little rich, because Natasha knows that they regularly fuck each other, and so there’s really no need to go out. Also, she had been very firm in her desire not to hear about their shenanigans.

“I thought we weren’t talking about this,” Natasha objects.

“You said no details, and I’m not providing them,” Tony replies. “But Steve wants to get his rocks off, and I’m his friend, so I’m supporting him in that goal.”

“And I’m the wingman,” Natasha says dryly. “Why don’t you just fuck each other? That’s easy, and it doesn’t require us to go anywhere. Nor does it require my participation in any way.”

“Because Steve wants something new, and I’m not feeling up to it,” Tony says bluntly.

He does have dark circles under his eyes, and there are other signs of exhaustion or illness or both. “Have you found another element to power the arc reactor?”

“None that wouldn’t also be toxic,” Tony says sourly. “It’s going to take time.”

“Time you don’t necessarily have,” Natasha says with sympathy.

Tony shrugs. “Let’s hope that I can figure something out soon.” But he winces at the movement, and Natasha knows that beyond dealing with the toxicity of the palladium, Tony also has near-constant pain in his chest.

He handles it well, rarely complaining, but she assumes that between pain and illness, Tony’s probably not feeling up for much.

“All right,” Natasha says. “I actually know of a bar not far from here, and it’s usually well patronized on Friday nights. We should be able to find someone for Steve.”

Tony smiles briefly. “Thank you. I know it’s not really your thing, but—“

“But it’s for Steve,” Natasha says easily. If there’s one thing that’s true, it’s that she’ll do just about anything for Steve or Tony. “Is there anything I can do for you, Tony?”

“Rewind time so I didn’t get a hole punched through my chest?” Tony suggests, then shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to complain. It could be worse.”

Natasha isn’t sure how, given that Tony is dying by inches. “You are allowed to complain, Tony.”

“Doesn’t do any good, does it?” Tony says self-deprecatingly. “Never mind. I’ll figure it out. See you in a bit?”

“I’ll meet you in the garage in an hour,” Natasha replies.

If she’s going to be Steve’s wingman, she’d better look the part, and Natasha pulls on her tightest jeans and t-shirt, then shakes her hair out of its usual braid, letting it fall in waves around her face.

It’s a look that James had always particularly appreciated, and she knows she’ll draw a lot of attention. Of course, Steve will garner his own share of attention, because he always does.

She makes her way to the garage, where there’s a fleet of vehicles for the use of those staffing the compound. It’s a mixture of service members and Stark Industries’ employees, and in spite of the isolation, it’s considered a plum assignment. Not only is housing covered, but there are three guaranteed meals per day. The meals aren’t fancy, but they’re sufficient, and better than a lot of people can obtain without it costing an arm and a leg.

Fuel is rationed and fairly limited these days, but being Tony Stark has its privileges, and Tony has no problem signing out a vehicle.

Steve arrives a short time later, wearing what Natasha privately calls his “fuck me” jeans that look as though they’ve been painted on, and a tight, white t-shirt. Tony, on the other hand, wears cargo pants, layered t-shirts, and a beanie.

Steve slings an arm around Tony’s shoulders. “How are you feeling, Tony?”

“I’ve had better days,” Tony admits. “But it’s not about me tonight.”

“We could stay in and watch a movie,” Steve offers.

Tony shakes his head. “No, I’ll be fine for a few hours. Don’t worry.”

Steve exchanges a look with Natasha, but she just shrugs. Tony knows Steve well, and she trusts his judgment. If Tony thinks Steve needs stress relief, that’s what they’re going to do.

“I’ll drive,” Natasha says. “At least on the way there.”

She plans on drinking, but she knows that Tony will probably limit himself to one drink. He’d watched his parents’ drunken antics too much to risk more than that.

Tony shrugs and climbs into the backseat. “Fine with me.”

Steve stretches out his long legs in the passenger seat and runs a hand through his hair. “Thanks, Nat,” he says easily. “I know this isn’t your thing.”

“You two are my thing,” Natasha replies. “I would do far more distasteful things than go to a bar.”

The bar is about an hour away from the compound. Natasha pulls into the parking lot, which is full of motorcycles and older sedans that have seen better days.

Natasha doesn’t think she’s seen a new car in years now., with most of the auto plants closed due to the lack of materials and problems with the supply chain.

Natasha enters the bar first, and several pairs of eyes immediately turn in her direction. When Steve steps inside, they draw even more attention, which allows Tony to go almost unnoticed.

“I’ll get the drinks,” Tony says. “They probably won’t have much more than piss poor beer.”

“Get a pitcher,” Steve replies. “We might need it to attract folks.”

Tony nods and goes to pay for a pitcher of beer at the bar, while Steve and Natasha find a table that gives them a good view of the room.

“See anyone interesting?” Natasha asks.

“Not yet,” Steve replies. “But the night is still young.”

Tony comes to the table with a pitcher of pale colored beer and three glasses. “I think you’ve slept with the bartender before, Steve.”

Steve cranes his neck, and he nods. “Yeah, that was a good time, too. You find out if she’s still single?”

“Asked, and she said yes, same rules still apply,” Tony says. “But she also said no hard feelings if someone else picks you up, since you’ll have to wait until she’s done with work.”

Steve shrugs. “We’ll see what happens.”

Natasha gets a look at the bartender, and she’s small, blonde, and curvy. Natasha can’t fault Steve’s taste in women, even if she isn’t interested in sleeping with anyone at this stage.

“How close are you to finding a solution to the toxicity problem?” Steve asks in a low voice as they drink their beers.

Tony sighs. “Yeah, platinum might work, although it’s not going to deliver the power I was hoping for, and I have to source enough first.”

“Platinum is hard to find,” Natasha murmurs. “It’s in high demand, and mining efforts aren’t ongoing.”

“Trust me, I’ve considered putting out a public call for people to donate their wedding rings,” Tony says dryly. “There’s no guarantee that it will work, or that it won’t be toxic. It might be fine; it might not be.”

“Let me see what I can do,” Natasha urges. “How much do you need?”

“About fifteen grams,” Tony says. “But I don’t want you turning burglar for me.”

“As I said, I would do many otherwise distasteful things for the two of you,” Natasha replies. “You let me figure it out.”

Tony gives her a long look. “All right. I don’t particularly want to feel like shit all the time. I’ll let you do your thing, whatever that happens to be.”

Natasha is watching as a young man approaches their table. He’s wearing a pair of tight, ripped black jeans, a black t-shirt, and a leather jacket, and he’s eyeing Steve with naked interest. “Incoming,” Natasha says.

Tony glances over, and he’s clearly amused. Steve leans back in his seat and takes a long drink of his beer, and Natasha knows Steve is fully aware of just how hot he looks when he does that.

The man stops by their table. “I think I recognize you from the news.”

He only has eyes for Steve, who replies, “You probably do.”

“Captain America?” the kid asks.

“I prefer Steve,” he says, and stands, holding out a hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Tyler,” he says, shaking Steve’s hand, and then turns to Natasha.

She shakes his hand. “Natasha.”

Tony just nods. “Tony.”

Tyler’s eyes widen just slightly as he realizes that the company Steve is keeping is just as famous as Steve is.

“Sit down,” Steve says. “Have a drink. These are my friends.”

Tyler bobs his head. “Nice to meet all of you.”

Natasha thinks he might run off, but he’s apparently made of sterner stuff than that, and he takes the fourth seat next to Steve, which puts his back to the room. He doesn’t seem to have any problem with that, though.

Tony sips his beer and maintains his silence, as does Natasha.

“Do you come here often?” Tyler asks. “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”

“No, I don’t come here often,” Steve replies. “But I was looking for something in particular tonight.”

Tyler smiles. “Maybe I could be that something in particular.” He has brown hair and hazel eyes, and a few days’ worth of stubble. He’s cute, although not in a remarkable way.

“Maybe you could be,” Steve says. “Depends on whether you have a place, and are willing to give me a ride tomorrow.”

Tyler’s face falls. “I have a place, but I don’t have transportation. I live a few blocks from here.”

“We can arrange a ride,” Tony offers. “Or we can just stick around here until they kick us out.”

Steve smiles. “You up for a bit of rough and ready, Tyler?”

“Uh, yeah,” Tyler replies. “We’ve got a few hours, right?”

They’d arrived at the bar around nine, and last call isn’t until two, so there’s plenty of time.

Steve stands. “I’ll be back before closing.”

“I guess that leave us to finish the pitcher,” Tony says as Steve follows Tyler out of the bar.

“There are a few people still eyeing our table, you know,” Natasha says. Tony holds out an open hand, and Natasha intertwines their fingers. “This works. I take it you’re not interested in any action tonight either.”

“This is about as much as I can handle right now, Nat.”

She squeezes his hand. “You know I have your back.”

Tony picks up their joined hands and kisses the back of hers. “I do know that. It’s one of the reasons that I don’t lose all hope.”

Right before last call, Steve strolls back into the bar, hair a bit mussed, but looking relaxed with a spring in his step

“Are we ready to head back?” Steve asks.

Natasha raises her eyebrows. “Did you get what we came here for?”

“Yeah, I did,” Steve replies. “Thanks for indulging me.”

It’s one of the few nights out that they get, one of those few moments in a bleak existence where everything just keeps getting worse and worse.

And, in fact, it’s one of the last nights out that they have in that world.

Now

Pasta is easy, and will feed a crowd, so that’s what Bucky decides to make. He’s expecting Rhodes’ arrival at any moment, but there’s not much he needs to do.

“Hey, can I help?” Sam asks, entering the kitchen.

Bucky shakes his head. “There’s not much, really. Just have to throw the pasta in once the water is boiling. FRIDAY, do we have an ETA on Colonel Rhodes?”

There’s a pause, and FRIDAY says, “Colonel Rhodes is ten minutes out.”

“Thanks,” Bucky says absently. “Looks like his timing will be about perfect.”

“So, what comes next?” Sam asks.

Bucky shrugs. “I haven’t been contacted about another mission yet, unless you know something I don’t.”

Sam leans back against the counter, his arms crossed. “No, nothing on my end either. It’s been quiet.”

Bucky frowns at him. “You’re going to jinx us.”

“I didn’t think you were superstitious,” Sam objects.

“There’s superstition, and then there’s common sense,” Steve says as he enters the kitchen, wearing a gray t-shirt that stretches across his broad shoulders. “And when you say things are quiet, you’re just ensuring that it doesn’t stay that way.”

Bucky points at him. “What Steve said.”

He knows this isn’t the same man he’d grown up with, but there are times when it’s hard to remember that. After their sparring session, Bucky is feeling more comfortable with Steve, and the differences have faded. He expects there will be other moments when the differences are sharply delineated, though.

Sam shrugs. “I doubt it, but the point stands. I haven’t been notified of another mission. I’ll probably go visit Sarah for a bit.”

“What about you, Steve?” Bucky asks. “Any plans?”

Steve shakes his head. “I’ll probably stick around here, or maybe figure out a way to take a road trip. It would be nice to see the country when it’s not falling down around my ears.”

Bucky glances at Sam, who shrugs. “We can probably make that happen, if that’s what you decide to do.”

“We were thinking about going out tonight,” Steve says. “Natasha and me. I’d kind of like to get laid.”

And this is one of those moments when the differences are starkly obvious.

Sam chokes on his spit, and Steve smirks, which isn’t much of a difference. Steve always had been a bit of a shit.

“I think we can make that happen, too,” Bucky replies, sharing a grin with Steve. “Of course, Sam might not want to, since he’s apt to be recognized.”

Sam shakes his head. “Oh, no. You’re likely to get yourselves into trouble if I’m not there. Someone has to make sure Captain America doesn’t start a bar brawl. Especially looking like that.”

Steve tucks his hands in his pockets. “Like what? I thought what I was wearing was fine.”

“You know what you look like, solnishko,” Natasha says as she enters the room. “Stop baiting Sam.”

“He’s an easy mark,” Steve protests. “And it’s fun.”

“We’re here to make friends,” Natasha replies.

Steve shrugs, but says, “Yes, Mom.”

That earns him an epic eye roll, but she doesn’t deign to respond otherwise.

“Colonel Rhodes just landed, Sergeant Barnes,” FRIDAY announces.

He takes that as his cue to toss the pasta in with the sauce, adding a bit of the pasta water to help bind the sauce to the noodles.

“That smells great,” Steve says, looking over his shoulder.

“It’s simple, and that’s the point,” Bucky replies just as Rhodes enters the kitchen. “Good to see you again, Colonel Rhodes.”

“Sergeant Barnes,” Rhodes says. They’ve never really made friends, although they’re on fairly friendly terms. His response to Sam is warmer. “How are you, Sam?”

“I’m good,” Sam replies. “How was Mexico?”

Rhodes shrugs. “It was a little bit of a mind fuck, like you said, but they seem to be fairly settled. Apparently, the other version of me tended to kiss Howard Stark’s ass, which is also a mind fuck.”

“Oh, he did,” Steve says. “Sorry. Steve Rogers.”

Rhodes seems to take in the longer hair and full beard, and then he holds out a hand. “Nice to meet you. James Rhodes. Call me Jim.”

Steve inclines his head. “I’m Steve.”

“Natasha Romanova,” she says as Rhodes turns to look at her. “Call me Natasha.”

“Pleasure,” Rhodes says, and then he closes his eyes briefly, and Bucky knows that he’s trying to wrap his head around everything. “Right, well, I am sorry to have barged in on you all, and I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you arrived. I had some business off-planet.”

“It’s not like you had any warning of our arrival,” Steve says warmly.

“Anything we need to be aware of?” Sam asks as Bucky starts dishing up their meals.

Rhodes shakes his head. “Not right now, but I’ll let you know if that changes.” He glances at Steve and Natasha. “I’ve heard you’re both willing to take missions if needed.”

“If needed, sure,” Steve says easily. “Happy to.”

Natasha nods. “If James has a mission, I’ll go and watch his back.”

“Yeah, I heard about the thing in Belgrade,” Rhodes says. “That was some good work.”

Natasha waves off the praise. “It was a simple mission, made simpler by our targets being complete idiots.”

“They were really dumb,” Bucky mutters, handing Natasha her bowl of pasta.

They sit down to eat, and it’s nice. Bucky hadn’t been around back when the Avengers spent more time together, before Zemo threw a grenade into the middle of the team. Rhodes tells them what he can of his recent trip to space, and Sam and Steve razz each other over their recent mission.

It’s an enjoyable dinner, and when they’ve finished eating and get things cleaned up, Sam offers, “We’re going out tonight. Are you interested in joining us, Jim?”

Rhodes shakes his head. “No, I’m sorry. I have to get to D.C. I have a briefing with the President yet tonight. Thanks for dinner, though.”

There are handshakes all around, and then Rhodes leaves. Natasha says, “I just need to finish getting ready.”

“Want some company?” Bucky asks.

Natasha smiles. “Of course.”

Bucky follows her back to her room, and then watches as Natasha puts on her makeup, her hand sure and steady. She doesn’t wear much, and so it only takes her a few minutes. She then releases her hair from her braid, letting it hang loose down her shoulders.

She meets his eyes in the mirror. “Like what you see?”

“You know I do,” Bucky replies from his spot in the doorway to the bathroom.

Natasha quickly puts everything away, and then turns to him. “I appreciate you going out with us.”

“It’s no problem,” Bucky insists. He’s actually pleased to have been invited. As tight as Natasha and Steve are, they could easily have chosen just to go without inviting anyone else. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“It’s been a long time since we’ve been able to do this,” Natasha replies, pulling on a jacket. “The last time we went, it was right before everything really started going to hell.”

“What started it?” Bucky asks.

Natasha shrugs. “We already had food shortages, but there was a blight, and then another novel virus. After that, I don’t think there was a bar or restaurant still open.”

“Sounds like it was one thing after another,” Bucky says.

“Something like that, yes,” Natasha admits.

Bucky has to admit that he has a certain amount of curiosity at seeing Steve trying to pick up a date.

Sam and Steve are waiting for them next to one of the black SUVs they have at their disposal, and Sam rattles a set of keys, tossing them to Bucky. “You’re the DD tonight, Buck.”

Bucky shrugs as he catches the keys. “No problem. Where are we going?”

“There’s a place about an hour away,” Sam says. “I’ve dropped in a time or two.”

“I’ll let you navigate,” Bucky replies.

“Are you going to bitch about my navigational skills?” Sam asks.

Bucky pauses, as though he has to think about it. “Probably.”

Sam rolls his eyes, but it makes Steve and Natasha laugh.

“I didn’t know we’d be getting dinner and a show,” Steve says, climbing into the backseat behind Bucky, while Natasha takes the seat behind Sam.

“We always aim to show people a good time,” Sam replies.

The drive is uneventful, Sam sending them unerringly to a bar in the nearest town to the complex. The town has a population of about 10,000, and the bar seems to be hopping, which isn’t too surprising for a Saturday night.

There’s a small state college nearby, and it looks like a lot of the bar patrons are students, but there are some who appear older, as well.

“Do you want me to get a pitcher?” Bucky offers. “You guys can find a table.”

Sam nods. “Sounds good.”

Bucky has found that the longer hair and beard provide good camouflage, since not many people seem to recognize him. If they do, it’s usually because of the arm, but even that doesn’t always draw attention.

“What can I get you, handsome?” the bartender asks. She’s built like a linebacker and has dark, curly hair.

“Pitcher of beer, please,” Bucky replies. “And four glasses.”

“I’ll have one of the servers bring it to you,” she replies. “Do you want to start a tab?”

“Nah, I’ll pay here.” He hands her a twenty and tells her to keep the change, before weaving his way through the crowded floor to find the others.

Sam has found a table in a corner that will allow them to sit so that no one has their back to the room. It’s a smart choice, and Bucky sits down next to Natasha, slinging his right arm around the back of her chair.

“Little different than what we’re used to, isn’t it?” Steve asks, his eyes bright.

Natasha just looks amused. “It is. I don’t think you’ll have any trouble finding someone to your liking tonight.”

“Any restrictions?” Bucky asks, getting into the spirit of things. He’d tried to pick up girls on Steve’s behalf, back before the war, but never with Steve as an active participant.

“I’d prefer someone who doesn’t look like they’re barely out of the cradle,” Steve replies. “Which narrows my choices considerably in a place like this. I’m not picky otherwise.”

Bucky glances around the room, and finds that there’s a woman staring at their table. “I think we’ve found a winner, Stevie.”

The woman looks to be in her mid-twenties, so old enough to remember the battle over Manhattan. She’s curvy and her brown hair falls around her shoulders. Her expression is somewhat incredulous, as though she’s not sure what she’s seeing, and is doubting her own eyesight.

Then Steve smiles, leans back in his chair, and waves like he’s greeting an old friend.

She looks startled, then disbelieving, and then she starts to make her way across the floor to join them. “I’m sorry, I could have sworn,” she begins, and then trails off. “Oh, the President’s press conference…”

“Your eyes aren’t deceiving you,” Steve assures her, getting to his feet smoothy. “Steve Rogers. And you are?”

Bucky had known that Steve could have game if he made an attempt. Especially after the serum, he’d been tall—taller than Bucky—and built. But there had always been a bit of the kid from Brooklyn in him, the one who didn’t know how to talk to girls, unless her name was Peggy Carter.

And there’s a part of Bucky that suspects that part of his Steve’s decision to go back to the past was to find some kind of connection that had been lost after Tony and Natasha were killed.

Bucky tries not to hold it against him, although he hasn’t always been successful in that.

The woman blushes and giggles. “Becca Michelson.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Becca,” Steve says smoothly. “Can I introduce you to my friends?”

She’s already eating out of Steve’s hand. “Please. I didn’t want to intrude, but—“

“I wouldn’t have waved you over if it was an intrusion,” Steve says smoothly. “Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes, and Natasha Romanova,” he says, pointing to each of them in turn. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Oh, um, I’m not really one for beer,” Becca admits. “But I could—“

“Nonsense,” Steve says. “What are you drinking?”

“A gin and tonic?” she asks, sounding more like she’s asking a question than stating a preference.

Normally, Bucky would make a comment about her preference probably being a cosmopolitan, or something fruity, and he exchanges a look with Sam. A sharp pain in his shin dissuades him, though, and Natasha gives Sam a hard look, since she can’t reach him with her foot.

“Well, that’s easy enough,” Steve says, holding out an arm. “Shall we? That way, we can make sure you get exactly what you want.”

“What was that for?” Bucky asks Natasha as soon as they’re out of earshot.

“You were thinking about commenting on her choice of beverage, which would have embarrassed her, and probably caused her to run,” Natasha replies.

“Come on, you know her first choice of drink is probably something sweet and fruity,” Bucky protests.

“It absolutely is, which is why, when they return to the table, she will have precisely the drink she wants, and Steve will know that I have ensured you two don’t cockblock him,” Natasha replies. “Because you do not want to see Steve when he’s been cockblocked. He’s been known to exact revenge.”

Bucky grimaces. “Yeah, I could see that, actually.”

“Steve?” Sam asks with disbelief.

“There isn’t a mean bone in his body, but he’s pulled a prank or two in his day,” Bucky admits. “I mean, my version did.”

“Oh, he and Tony have been known to do just that,” Natasha says. “So, no comments on her drink, and act like the gentlemen you probably aren’t.”

When Steve returns with Becca in tow—and she’s carrying a very pink drink—Bucky keeps his opinions to himself. So does Sam, and Natasha turns a kind smile her way. “So, what do you do, Becca? Are you a student?”

“Oh, no, I was just telling Steve that I’m a kindergarten teacher,” Becca says, and when she smiles, her dimples show. “I came out here with some other teachers, but they all left, and I wasn’t really sure what to do next.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you spotted us, then,” Steve says smoothly. “You can join us.”

Becca giggles again. “Wow. I just never imagined it. I know what the President said, and I don’t want to pry, but…”

She trails off, and Steve says, “Our world was dying, mostly due to climate change.”

“Oh, isn’t it terrible?” Becca says. “I’ve heard that Stark Industries has a huge clean energy product. Ms. Potts is so impressive!”

Since neither Steve nor Natasha know much about Pepper Potts, Bucky takes it upon himself to say, “She really is. Banner and Stark are working hard on that endeavor.”

“That’s so great,” Becca gushes. “I look at my students, and I just worry about it so much.”

“We’re going to work on it,” Steve says. “Even if I need to become the poster boy for why we should save the environment.”

Bucky is beginning to think that their presence is not only not needed, it’s not wanted. He glances at Natasha, who shakes her head. Right, well, they’re still in the “picking up and reassuring” stage of the operation. Bucky knows the steps very well. Once upon a time, he’d tried to teach Steve.

“Tell me about your students,” Steve adds. “I love kids.”

Bucky has no idea if he’s telling the truth or not, but Steve sells it. He doesn’t remember Steve being especially interested in children, but maybe in a different universe he was. Or maybe he’s faking it to get laid.

He wouldn’t be the first man to do so.

Becca opens up like a flower under the sun as Steve asks his questions, and Sam keeps glancing at Bucky like he can’t quite believe what’s happening, but Bucky just shrugs and watches Steve work. He keeps his arm around Natasha’s shoulders, and occasionally puts in a comment or two, as do the others.

“Oh, I’ve been talking too much,” Becca says when the bartender gives last call. “I’m so sorry. And jeez, I guess I don’t have a ride home.”

“I’m the designated driver,” Bucky says smoothly. “We can drop you home, no problem.”

“That’s so nice of you,” she replies. “But, um, I guess that means…” She trails off, but she’s looking at Steve as she says it.

“You guys wouldn’t mind dropping me off, too, would you?” Steve asks. He glances at Becca. “But I don’t want to be presumptuous.”

“No, I mean, that would be, um…” She’s stuttering. “That would be fine.”

Steve reaches out for her hand, taking it gently. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, but I wouldn’t mind continuing the conversation.”

Bucky has used that very move himself, and he knows that it’s just a precursor to Steve showing Becca a really good time.

He’s the one driving back, with Steve and Natasha in the backseat, but Steve gallantly offers to take the middle. Becca directs them to an apartment complex that’s about ten minutes away, and they let the two of them out.

“You have my number?” Sam asks as Steve gets out.

“Yeah, I do,” Steve replies. “And I have my phone, don’t worry. See you guys when I see you.”

Bucky is almost certain that Steve isn’t going to call until probably late tomorrow.

“Goddamn,” Sam says, once they’ve driven away. “That man has game.”

“Did you think he didn’t?” Natasha asks. “There’s a reason I told you that we just needed to go to a bar. He’ll show her one of the best times of her life, and she’ll probably be ruined for other men until the right one comes along. Steve has that effect.”

Sam glances over his shoulder. “Are you speaking from experience?”

Natasha shrugs. “I never took him up on the offer. That was Tony’s deal, and they’re both like family.”

Bucky is a little relieved to hear that, and to know that Natasha has never been tempted. Watching Steve tonight, he’s fairly certain that Steve is much smoother than him. Thankfully, Natasha hadn’t made him work too hard for it.

Sam is still shaking his head, obviously comparing the two versions. “Wonders never cease.”

The drive back to the compound is mostly made in silence after that, with Natasha resting her head against the window. Sam actually falls asleep, and then it’s just the dark country road and the sound of wheels on asphalt.

Bucky can’t say he minds.

~~~~~

Bruce isn’t sure how much time they’re going to have before the world inevitably intrudes on their retreat. He and Tony have settled into a rhythm, working in the mornings, grabbing lunch, swimming or surfing in the afternoon, and then working until they’re ready to call it quits for the night.

The first sign that they’re not going to be left alone forever comes from Rhodes, of course, but that had been a small bump in the road. He’d come, seen Tony for himself, and then immediately left again. Tony heard from Natasha that he’d also visited the compound, and that visit had been similarly brief.

From what Bruce understands, Rhodes had been considered one of the President’s top advisors before he got kidnapped by aliens. While getting kidnapped hadn’t been his fault, it’s going to take him some work to get back in the good graces of the administration.

Bruce doesn’t pretend to know the ins and outs of all that. He’s got his own problems to deal with, and he prefers to stay off the radar of the authorities.

They have a couple of weeks after Rhodes leaves before Jenn calls, and she’s clearly not interested in hearing Bruce’s excuses for why they’re staying in Mexico.

“I haven’t seen you in ages,” Jenn protests. “And I want to meet him.”

There’s no good reason to deny her the chance to meet Tony, but there are still good reasons for them to stay in Mexico. “If you can get here, you can meet him,” Bruce finally says. “But we’re still avoiding the press.”

“And the press has been all over Steve Rogers,” Jenn admits. “They’d probably be vicious, so I get it.”

“Are you going to bring Matt?” Bruce asks.

Jenn snorts. “You don’t have the room. You can meet him when you visit me.”

“I heard you already brought him to meet the family,” Bruce counters.

“And you still don’t have the room.”

“Technically, I do,” Bruce counters. “But I will acknowledge that it’s probably going to be awkward enough with just you.”

“It would just be for the weekend,” Jenn assures him. “So, quick trip. I have work.”

“All right, I’ll make up the spare room,” Bruce replies. “When do you think you’ll be here?”

“Next weekend?” Jenn suggests. “I already bought my tickets.”

Bruce shakes his head. “Of course, you did. Do you have a way to get here from the airport?”

“I’ll rent a car,” Jenn replies. “I know you don’t like a lot of people knowing where your place is.”

“Especially when I have Tony here,” Bruce agrees.

Jenn frowns. “What’s the deal with that?”

“We agreed to stay out of sight for the sake of Pepper and the kid,” Bruce replies. “She’s still young, and it’s going to be hard to explain to her why some version of her dad isn’t interested in seeing her.”

Jenn purses her lips. “Well…she’s not actually his kid, is she? There’s no real emotional attachment on his part, because he doesn’t know her, or even some version of her. I can understand that.”

“You’re one of the few who has,” Bruce admits. “I’ve had to explain just that.”

“Well, it makes sense that you’d get him,” Jenn says, her dimples flashing. “Because you guys are apparently soulmates.”

“Shut up,” Bruce says, but fondly. “I’ll see you soon.”

Her image winks out, and Tony pokes his head up from the basement. “Is the coast clear?”

Bruce smiles. “I wouldn’t have minded you listening in, you know.”

“I figured that your cousin would probably pump you for information, and you might not want me overhearing,” Tony admits.

Bruce had been using his tablet that he’d propped up against the bar. Tony sits on one of the stools across from him, and Bruce says, “Well, she said we were soulmates, which was mildly embarrassing.”

“I don’t believe in them,” Tony says promptly. “But maybe the two of us are—entangled particles.”

Bruce is very familiar with the concept, of course. Two particles that become entangled remain connected even though separated by vast distances. It’s a sound principle of quantum physics, and when applied to two people, it’s a romantic one.

There’s no way to prove it or disprove it, so Bruce says, “That might be the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me.”

“I find that sad,” Tony says. “Is Jenn going to visit?”

“Next weekend,” Bruce admits. “She said she already bought the tickets. I wouldn’t have put it past her to show up and ask for pardon later.”

Tony cracks a smile. “She’s a lawyer, isn’t she? I think they’re good at that.”

Bruce shrugs. “Any issues with that?”

“Nah, I’m interested in meeting another Hulk,” Tony replies. “It turns out that green is my second favorite color.”

“Oh, my god, you sap,” Bruce says, and he rounds the bar, transforming as he does so. He loses the green, because it’s a little awkward to kiss Tony when he’s that tall.

He hauls Tony in close, and they exchange open-mouthed kisses. Tony shoves his hands under Bruce’s t-shirt, and Bruce does the same.

Bruce can’t get enough, and Tony seems to be just as insatiable.

“Might as well enjoy the empty bar,” Tony says between kisses. “I have a feeling that your cousin is just the beginning.”

“I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop,” Bruce admits. “It’s only a matter of time before something catches on fire. And who knows if we’ll be needed?”

Tony presses his lips to the side of Bruce’s neck. “Would it be selfish to say that I really don’t want to?”

“If it is, it’s still not wrong,” Bruce assures him. “You’ve lost a lot. It’s not wrong to need the recovery time. How are the toys coming?”

“Good,” Tony replies. “Should be ready to send tomorrow.”

“Okay, then you’ve done your part,” Bruce says.

Tony stands and starts pulling Bruce towards the couch. “I say we take advantage of the time we do have.”

Bruce has no objections to that, and he allows Tony to pull him over to the couch, pressing him down against the cushions. Bruce doesn’t mind Tony taking control, although they don’t have condoms or lube ready to hand.

Tony isn’t going to let that stop him, though. He gets their pants shoved down and takes them both in hand long enough for enough pre-cum to provide enough in the way of lubrication to jack them both off.

Bruce’s hips strain upward, and Tony says, “I’ve got you. Just relax, Bruce. I’ve got you. We’re almost there.”

There’s a breeze coming in off the ocean, and Bruce smells the salt of their sweat mingled with the salt on the air. If someone had told him that he would get to have this even a few months ago, Bruce would have called them a liar.

But he’s in the bar that he and Tony built together, and Tony is on top of him, and Tony looks at him as though Bruce is the answer to everything.

When he climaxes, Tony catches most of it in his hand, and Bruce goes boneless under him.

“Fuck,” Bruce mutters.

Tony comes shortly after that, collapsing on top of Bruce, and he says, “Fucking is on the menu, but I’m going to need some recovery time.”

“Yeah, same,” Bruce replies. “Thanks for that.”

“Oh, it was entirely my pleasure,” Tony replies, and he gets up. “I’m just going to wash my hands. “Don’t move.”

Bruce does button his pants, but otherwise stays where he is. Tony returns in short order and plasters himself over Bruce. “Is this okay?”

Bruce holds him tightly. “It’s more than okay.”

“I really missed this,” Tony murmurs. “And I know it’s not the same, I know we’re not the same, but Bruce, this feels even better than before.”

“Yeah, it does,” Bruce admits, because it does feel even better. Of everyone, Bruce knows that he’s come out ahead in this deal. He’s got his place in Mexico, projects to work on, and a Tony Stark who thinks he hung the moon.

Bruce knows how lucky he is, and he wants to feel bad for everyone else, but he’s lost so much in his life. The fact that he might get to have something he’s wanted for so long…

“I don’t want to do without you, but if they call you in and you have to go, I’ll understand,” Tony says. “But I don’t know if I can answer the call. I haven’t had enough practice with the suit, and I just—the last time I was actually in a battle scenario, I had a car battery strapped to my chest. I wasn’t even able to switch it out until just before Steve rescued me. I never had the resources to build a full suit. All I had were repulsers.”

“It’s okay,” Bruce says. “And I mean that. It’s okay. The call is voluntary, Tony, and you’re making things that will make it easier for us to succeed. You can take a backseat if that’s what you need right now. It won’t matter to me or anyone else whose opinion actually matters.”

Bruce pauses. “And even if you weren’t making toys and working on clean energy projects, it would still be okay. I don’t need you to be a superhero or some kind of clean energy god. I never needed that from you.”

Tony threads his hand through Bruce’s hair. “What do you need?”

“I just need you,” Bruce says simply. “You see me.”

Tony smiles. “Well, that works for me, because I just need you. You see me, too.”

Bruce just holds him, feeling the rough tickle of Tony’s beard against his bare neck, the soft bristle of Tony’s close-cropped hair against his hand. Tony is starting to fill out, with decent food and exercise.

He still needs some time, and Bruce thinks that Tony will eventually want to get back out there, but Bruce isn’t going to count on it or expect it.

He had known Tony well enough by the end to know just how tired he was, and maybe Tony hadn’t courted death—and he certainly hadn’t wanted to die—but he accepted it at the end.

Bruce doesn’t want to lose this version of Tony either, and he can see a similar weariness in him. Bruce will safeguard him any way that he can.

“What’s our next project?” Tony asks. “Because whatever we work on, I wanna do it together.”

Bruce hums, thinking through the pending tickets from Stark Industries. “You know, Pepper has sent us a list of projects to review to determine whether to green light them as part of SI’s clean energy efforts. We don’t have anything really pressing, and it might be nice to get through it.”

“Deal,” Tony agrees. “Maybe we’ll find something to sink our teeth into. It’s been a long time since I had a chance to work with other scientists.” He stops. “Sorry, that came out wrong.”

Bruce laughs. “I know how you meant it, and I’m good with that idea. Maybe we’ll find the next world-changing idea, like the arc reactor.”

“I need to dig into those designs,” Tony admits.

“Can I ask what you’re using to power the arc reactor in your chest?” Bruce asks.

He had trusted Tony when he said he’s found a solution to the palladium toxicity, but now he’s curious.

“Platinum, scrounged from pretty much wherever we could get it,” Tony admits. “It doesn’t have the power that palladium does, but it’s a lot more durable and a lot less toxic.”

“Let me see?” Bruce asks.

Tony willingly sits up and strips off his shirt. Bruce had seen Tony’s bare chest enough to know that this housing is different, and the scarring is more extensive. Whoever had put the electromagnet in his chest in that other universe hadn’t been nearly as skilled as Yinsen.

“Pretty ugly, I know,” Tony says. “Thanks for not commenting on it before.”

“I don’t have a comment,” Bruce says. “Except to see if we can improve matters for you. This saved your life, and that’s all that matters. We can use vibranium to power it if you want to switch it out; that’s what he used. No toxicity, and plenty of power. Are you tired a lot?”

“I’ve been tired since I was ten years old,” Tony admits. “When I realized the world was fucked, and my dad was just hastening it along to its death.”

Bruce runs his thumb over the scar tissue around the housing. “Come downstairs. I have some imaging I want to do.”

Tony follows him down to the basement, carrying his shirt, and he sits down on a stool. Bruce has a number of tools that Tony had stocked his workshop with, even things that Bruce hadn’t expected to need in a hundred years.

Including a hand-held ultrasound machine.

“All right, the tissue doesn’t look too bad,” Bruce says as he runs the wand around the casing. “Level of pain?”

“Probably a four most days,” Tony admits. “Sometimes a two, sometimes as much as an eight.”

Bruce snorts. “Which probably means a ten for most people. Okay, are you willing to let me tinker? I’m not the engineer you are, and I’m going to ask for a lot of help, but I think we can do better, even if you don’t want it removed.”

“I don’t,” Tony says, sounding like he shouldn’t admit to it. “I know it’s stupid, but it’s part of me now.”

Bruce shrugs. “Okay, so we just work on making it easier for you to bear. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

He puts a hand over the arc reactor in Tony’s chest. “This is a part of you. If that’s how it feels, that’s what it means. But let’s try to lighten the load, okay?”

“I really fucking love you,” Tony blurts out. “And I know it’s too early to say it, but I never got to say it before.”

Bruce leans in and presses a kiss to Tony’s lips. “The feeling is mutual.”

Then

Tony has never felt this way before, not even in the heady days when he and Steve had first started fucking, back when Tony had thought he had a crush on him.

But he enters the lab, and Bruce glances up from behind wire-rimmed glasses, and he smiles at Tony like he just made the sun rise.

“Hey, there,” Bruce says, his voice hoarse from lack of sleep. “You doing okay?”

“I should ask you that,” Tony counters. “I’m not the one who apparently pulled an all-nighter.”

“You know I have a deadline,” Bruce says. “They want to see our results yesterday. Soldiers’ lives are depending on it.”

“Soldiers’ lives depend on a lot of things,” Tony counters. “They count on food, fresh water, decent uniforms, and all the rest. Protection from radiation isn’t even the highest priority unless they’re entering into a radiated zone.”

“We never know when the Russians will drop another nuke,” Bruce counters. “And me being here depends on their funding, so the results are important.”

Tony frowns. “I don’t care about funding. You can stay here as long as you want.”

Bruce smiles softly. “I want to stay for as long as I can.”

“Then stay forever,” Tony argues. “Between the two of us, once you’re done with this radiation project, we might be able to make headway on some clean energy projects. I know we’ll have to beg, borrow and steal to get it done, but it’s worth doing, Bruce.”

“Of course, it’s worth doing,” Bruce replies. “But I don’t have the same freedom as you.”

“What the hell does Ross even have on you?” Tony asks, not for the first time. “You could stay here, with me.”

Bruce looks away. “The government picked up my student debt. I signed a contract.”

“So, I’ll pay off your debt,” Tony says.

“Do you want to see my contract?” Bruce asks. “Because it’s a lot like an Army contract, Tony. I didn’t bargain for money, I bargained my labor.”

It’s an old discussion, and Tony doesn’t have a counterargument. In point of fact, he has looked at Bruce’s contract; he’s had the lawyers at SI look at Bruce’s contract. Bruce is on the hook for at least five more years.

Tony really wishes he’d met Bruce before he signed up with the Army. He could have paid off Bruce’s student debts, appeased his father by working on select government contracts, and then worked on their own thing on the side.

But if wishes were horses, beggars would ride, as his dad was fond of saying, usually when Tony wished they’d started working on climate change initiatives decades prior.

“I know that,” Tony finally sighs. “I get it, and it sucks, but maybe we can come up with another sexy project that will let you stay here. You’ve been working on some really interesting biomechanics theories, and with my robotics, we could come up with a true cybernetics effort.”

Bruce smiles. “I’m willing to try, Tony, but I don’t want you to be disappointed.”

“I’ve been disappointed nearly every day since I was old enough to realize just how fucked we are,” Tony says, sitting down on a stool. “But I think I’d be far less disappointed in my life if I could keep working with you.”

“Charmer,” Bruce says, and he has a smile on his face as he says it. “But I feel the same. If I can bring this project to completion, I’ll have a lot more flexibility. I can probably write my own ticket.”

“Okay,” Tony says slowly. “So, what do you need from me to bring this across the finish line?”

“Nothing,” Bruce replies, although his tone is apologetic. “The next step is human testing, and obviously that’s problematic.”

Tony immediately knows where Bruce is going with that. “Bruce, no. You can’t use yourself as a guinea pig.”

“Someone has to be,” Bruce counters. “And I’m not going to ask some hapless grunt to volunteer either.”

“It could be me,” Tony argues. “Or someone else.”

“The only people I would trust to actually understand the ramifications and to say no if they didn’t agree would be Steve and Natasha, and both of them have had unknown treatment, including some version of the super soldier serum. They’re the only ones who might have the political capital to disagree and stick to it.”

Tony wants to argue, but there’s nothing to say to that, not when Bruce is right. “So, the solution is using yourself as a guinea pig? Why not me?”

“I’m not using you, so it has to be me, Tony,” Bruce says. “Let’s just—I don’t know.”

“Let’s enjoy some time,” Tony suggests. “We’ve been all work and no play. I know there really aren’t a lot of places to go, but we can at least have a night. We deserve that, Bruce.”

“Yeah, we do.” Bruce glances down at the floor. “I know you don’t want to hear this.”

“I’m sure that I don’t,” Tony replies. “But tell me anyway.”

“If this doesn’t work, the chances of me surviving are pretty slim,” Bruce says quietly. “And if I do survive, and it doesn’t work the way we want it to, I might not be the same man. I need you to prepare yourself for that.”

Tony knows he’s shaking his head, because he doesn’t want to think about it. He doesn’t want to imagine a world without Bruce in it. “Can’t we just be optimistic for once?”

“Burying our heads in the sand isn’t going to get us anywhere,” Bruce reminds him. “We’ve both seen the results of that. But that’s what we need to talk about. If something happens, I need you to promise me that you aren’t going to give up, and that you’re going to keep trying.”

“Bruce…” Tony says helplessly. “Come on.”

“I need you to promise me,” Bruce says insistently.

Tony blows out a breath. “Yeah, I promise.”

“And if it all gets too hopeless, and you need to do something crazy to save yourself, I need you to promise to do that, too,” Bruce adds. “Because you need to live, and I don’t mean just survive.”

Tony understands what Bruce is saying, because Tony really had just been treading water before Bruce arrived. Sure, he’d worked on clean energy projects, doing what he could to mitigate the damage, but it hadn’t gone anywhere.

Having Bruce as a partner re-energized him and his work; having a true peer had done wonders for his mental health, too.

And, of course he has Steve and Natasha, but that’s different to what it’s been with Bruce.

“I promise,” Tony says finally. “But I need you to promise me that if something does go wrong, you’ll do your best to survive.”

Bruce smiles, a little sadly. “I promise.”

“Then let’s not talk about it anymore,” Tony says. “We can go have lunch in the greenhouse.”

It’s one of Tony’s few real wins, convincing those in charge that the time and expense of putting in a green house and growing their own vegetables, at least, would be worth it. They can’t grow anything requiring pollinators, of course, but they can at least get some leafy greens, root vegetables, and a few other things.

Plus, the greenhouse makes for a nice spot to bring a sandwich. It’s usually quiet, with just a few people working, if that. It’s warm, even in the colder months, and it just smells green.

Bruce really likes it in there, too, and so it’s not a bad spot for a date.

They grab sandwiches from the cafeteria and find a quiet spot to sit at the end of a row of what Tony is pretty sure is kale. There’s a haze over the sun outside, but it’s still warm and humid.

“If you could do anything, and the world wasn’t fucked, what would you do?” Tony asks.

Bruce sighs thoughtfully around a bite of his sandwich. “I don’t know. I can’t imagine not liking science, so something with that still? Maybe teaching? Or maybe researching something other than how to mitigate radiation exposure in humans. What about you?”

“Something with AI,” Tony admits. “I’d build something that could think for itself.”

Bruce laughs. “Isn’t that one of the scenarios for how the world ends?”

“It wouldn’t have to be,” Tony protests. “Technically, you could build rules into it, more rules than humans have to follow, like do no harm.”

“That could work,” Bruce admits. “Plus, better communications.”

Tony tips his head back. “Yeah. Man, everything we have is so clunky. I talked to my dad about getting into consumer goods at one point, but he said it was pointless, because if we didn’t make weapons, we wouldn’t have any consumers.”

“That thinking is reductive at best,” Bruce mutters. “Because if we keep making and using weapons, we won’t have any people.”

“Twenty years,” Tony says.

“What’s twenty years?” Bruce asks.

Tony takes a bite of his sandwich. “Twenty years, and we’ll be too far gone to reverse the changes, and that’s if something else catastrophic doesn’t happen. Another major blight, another novel virus that takes out a good portion of the remaining workforce, another nuclear strike—maybe ten years if we’re lucky.”

Bruce swallows. “Which makes this work even more important, right? If we can find a way to protect humans from radiation on a wide scale…”

“I don’t disagree with you, Bruce, and I think it’s important, but I don’t think that’s what saves us,” he says regretfully, rubbing his chest over the arc reactor, as though that will bring any relief.

“How’s the pain today?” Bruce asks.

Bruce had arrived after Tony figured out the palladium poisoning, when he’d replaced it with platinum, but was still struggling with the after effects of heavy metal poisoning. Bruce had been the one to come up with some palliative remedies that had helped with the worst of the symptoms until it worked its way through his system.

“About a six,” Tony admits. “But I didn’t sleep well last night, and you know that always makes it worse.”

“Come on,” Bruce says, finishing off his sandwich, and offering Tony a hand up. “Let’s take a nap. I haven’t been sleeping well either, and maybe we’ll both feel better after that.”

Tony isn’t going to say no, and he’s pleased when Bruce leads him to Tony’s quarters, which are bigger and closer, and they both strip down to their boxers.

Tony is too tired to even get a little bit hard, not even when Bruce spoons up behind him, throwing an arm over Tony’s stomach and pulling him close. Bruce’s breath tickles the back of his neck, and Tony is warmed all the way through.

He drops off right away, and although he expects to dream, he doesn’t.

When he does wake up, their positions have shifted, with Tony on his back, and Bruce on the other side of the bed, a distance between them that Tony doesn’t like, and that seems foreboding.

Tony reaches out a hand to grasp Bruce’s wrist, and Bruce turns his hand so their fingers are intertwined. “I didn’t think you were awake.”

“I have been for a while,” Bruce admits. “I didn’t want to wake you. You were sleeping more deeply than usual.”

“Yeah,” Tony says. “Do you want to have dinner with us tonight? I know you usually say you have to work, but…”

“I usually do,” Bruce replies. “But not tonight. Everything is done that needs to be done.”

Tony stares up at the ceiling of his darkened room, and he wonders when he’d last seen daylight that hadn’t been filtered through bullet-proof glass. “When?”

“Ross has demanded a demonstration tomorrow,” Bruce says. “And if it works on me, he’ll find another hundred to test it on.”

“Soldiers, I suppose, part of that array of non-volunteers you were talking about earlier,” Tony says bitterly.

Bruce sighs. “Yeah.”

“I wish we could just disappear sometimes,” Tony admits. “Just find some undisturbed corner of the world and live like hermits.”

Bruce rolls to press a kiss to Tony’s bare shoulder. “You’d be bored in six weeks.”

“Excuse you,” Tony protests. “I think I’d last at least six months.”

Bruce chuckles. “Although if we had a workshop and the right tools, we could probably go sixty years.”

“You’re right about that,” Tony replies. “I hate all of this.”

“I think every sane person does,” Bruce says.

It’s not quite time for dinner, but they get dressed and head for the training room. As usual, Steve and Natasha are sparring. They usually try to get at least an hour in before dinner, and there are times when Tony joins them, but today he just wants to watch.

They’re going full out when he and Bruce enter, but it doesn’t put a hitch in their step. He and Bruce sit on the floor and hold hands, because Steve and Natasha know, and they don’t care.

Eventually, the fight stops, and Steve turns his smile on Bruce. “Dr. Banner. We haven’t seen you down here much.”

“I’m usually working,” Bruce replies. “But my project is nearing an end, and I found myself with some time on my hands before the demonstration tomorrow.”

Natasha and Steve both frown, and Natasha is the one to ask, “Is that a good thing?”

“It depends on how well the demonstration goes,” Bruce admits candidly. “And even if it goes well, it doesn’t mean I’ll be allowed to stay here.”

“Why?” Steve demands. “Why wouldn’t you be able to stay?”

“The Army owns my ass,” Bruce replies, “something I’m fairly sure you understand.”

Steve just shakes his head. “Yeah. As a matter of fact, I do. So does Natasha, and so does Tony, although I’m sure he had his lawyers look at your contract.”

“Unbreakable,” Tony mutters. “The fuckers.”

“Well, that just means we should drink tonight,” Natasha says. “I have vodka.”

“I can liberate a bottle of bourbon,” Tony offers.

“I’m not one to get drunk,” Bruce says.

Steve shrugs. “None of us are, but we can have a couple of drinks and relax. Nothing wrong with that.”

Bruce hasn’t really seemed that interested in getting to know Steve or Natasha before, but Tony understands. There’s a difference in leaving people you care about behind, and sharing a drink with people in the same metaphorical foxhole.

Tony and Bruce meet them in the cafeteria after they get cleaned up, and they eat the typical mediocre dinner together. It’s a rubbery lemon chicken and sautéed kale that night—and Tony is pretty sure the lemon came out of a bottle, and the kale was from the greenhouse.

After that, they repair to Tony’s quarters, which are large enough to seat the four of them. Tony sprawls on the bed with Bruce leaning against him, and Natasha and Steve take up a couple of chairs.

Tony has a set of mismatched glasses, and they pass them and a couple of bottles around. There’s a melancholy air of celebration in the room, maybe because everyone in the compound knows that this project has been the number one priority for months. They’ve been touting the benefits since it started, too.

One way or another, they’ll have answers tomorrow.

“Cheers,” Tony says, raising his glass, clinking his with Bruce’s. Natasha echoes with, “Nostrovia.”

“Good luck tomorrow,” Steve says to Bruce. “I’m sure it will be fine. I came through all right.”

“What did you do the night before?” Bruce asks. “Before your procedure.”

“Well, I was going to have a drink with Dr. Erskine,” Steve says wryly, “but then he remembered that I was going to have a procedure the following day, so he drank my portion. Too bad, really. I haven’t been able to get drunk since then.”

Tony glances at Bruce. “Should you be drinking?”

Bruce chuckles. “I’m just having the one drink, and I don’t think it will make a difference. This is a little different. It’s an infusion of medication, but there are no vita-rays. I think that’s what Howard Stark’s notes referred to them.”

Steve shrugs. “They didn’t really tell me much about the science, just that I’d be bigger and stronger, and able to go fight the Nazis, which is really all I cared about at the time. That, and joining Bucky.”

There’s a moment of silence after that, because they’re all haunted by ghosts, it seems. Ghosts of old friends and lovers and dead parents.

The whole world is full of ghosts. Sometimes, Tony thinks that’s what’s making the planet sick.

But now he’s being maudlin.

“We should play a game or something,” Tony says. There’s not much else to do around the compound, and he and Steve have sometimes killed an evening with a game of gin rummy, with Natasha an occasional reluctant participant.

“You got a deck of cards?” Steve counters. “Bruce, you know how to play gin rummy?”

“Not well,” Bruce jokes. “But sure, why not?”

They play several hands, until it’s late enough to justify going to bed, and Steve claps Bruce on the shoulder. “Seriously, good luck tomorrow. Nat and I have a recon mission, or we’d be there.”

Natasha just nods at Bruce, and then Tony is alone with Bruce again.

“I want you to fuck me tonight,” Bruce says.

Tony shakes his head. “Are you sure? You usually prefer to be on top.”

“I’m sure,” Bruce insists. “I want to feel you.”

Tony swallows, his throat thick with emotion. “Yeah. I can do that for you.”

He handles prep, carefully opening Bruce up. Bruce doesn’t bottom often, so Tony takes extra time to make sure Bruce isn’t too sore the following day, when he’ll be meeting with General Ross and other top brass to demonstrate his procedure.

Bruce is quiet, not making much noise, but he stares at Tony with the kind of intensity he usually reserves for equations or a science experiment. Tony rolls on a condom when Bruce says, “I’m good, Tony. I’m loose.”

Tony doesn’t want to make Bruce wait. Tonight, he wants to give Bruce exactly what he wants.

Bruce hisses as Tony enters him, and Tony asks, “Too much?”

“Just enough,” Bruce counters. “I want to feel you.”

“I’ve got you,” Tony promises, and begins pounding with long, sure strokes. He angles his hips just so, and he can tell when he starts hitting Bruce’s prostate.

Bruce is quiet—probably out of learned necessity—and so he just makes quiet sounds that are half-grunt, half-whimper.

When Bruce starts pressing back up, seeking more friction, faster, Tony wraps a hand around his dick and starts to jack him off.

Bruce’s hips lose their rhythm, and Tony’s own orgasm is close. He’s holding it off as long as he can, until Bruce spills messily over Tony’s hand. It only takes Tony another couple of thrusts, and then he’s coming, holding himself up on one, shaky arm.

Bruce says, “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” Tony counters. “That was just as good for me, you know.”

He sits up and takes care of the condom, then returns with a washcloth to clean Bruce up.

They curl up next to each other in Tony’s bed, and Tony rests a hand on Bruce’s bare hip. He wants to believe that this isn’t their last night together, but he has a sense of foreboding that he’s never felt before.

Tony has checked Bruce’s calculations, has gone over the science behind it exhaustively. It’s not the same as Erskine’s formula, but that had been lost when Hydra assassinated him. Instead, this is supposed to allow soldiers to work in irradiated areas, to be able to take in and even use radiation for energy.

If successful, it’s groundbreaking work that could then be translated to other organisms that wouldn’t be able to survive in those areas still deemed off-limits for human occupation. It won’t reverse the damage they’ve already done to the planet, but it might make it possible for them to survive the harsher environment.

But it requires a guinea pig, and the Army is really only interested in its use in humans.

“I’m only going to say this once, and please know that I’m not trying to put any pressure on you, but I really don’t want you to be the one to do this, Bruce,” Tony whispers in the dark.

“If it were up to me, we would do this the right way, but it’s not up to me,” Bruce replies. “Let’s just be grateful that the Army values its soldiers’ lives enough not to sign a bunch of them up as lab rats.”

Nothing more is said; nothing more needs to be said. Tony doesn’t sleep much that night, and he’s not sure if Bruce does either, but they don’t talk about it.

They just shower, and grab a quick cup of coffee and toast in the cafeteria. The compound is already buzzing with news of the brass’ arrival, including General Ross and two other generals, Brigadier General Moore, also Army, and General Daniels from the Air Force.

“Maybe you shouldn’t come,” Bruce frets quietly.

Tony snorts. “I’m the head of Stark Industries, Bruce. They expect me to be there, just as much as they expect you.”

There’s a large conference room in the compound that they reserve for visiting dignitaries with a large, marble table and leather-bound chairs, all of them at least twenty years old, relics from when Howard had been in charge.

Tony’s only concession to meeting top officials is to wear dress slacks and a collared shirt, rather than his preferred cargo pants and t-shirt.

“Tony,” Ross says, because he’d known Howard for years, and Tony is never going to be anything other than Howard Stark’s son to him. “How are you doing?”

“Doing well, thanks for asking,” Tony replies, falling back on the manners his parents drilled into him from an early age. “And you?”

“Great,” Ross says, rubbing his hands together eagerly. “I can’t wait to see what Dr. Banner has for us. I hope we’re going to see something good today.”

Bruce manages a weak smile. “All of the simulations have been successful since we made those tweaks we told you about, General Ross, but human trials are where the rubber always meets the road.”

General Daniels shakes Bruce’s hand. “Your reports have certainly been promising, Dr. Banner, but are you sure you want to do this?”

To Daniels’ credit, his hazel eyes are warm with real concern, although he follows it up with, “A mind like yours doesn’t come along often. We could probably get another volunteer.”

Bruce grimaces. “I’d feel very uncomfortable with that, sir. If I got this wrong, I’d prefer to bear the consequences, rather than someone else.”

“Could have used someone sitting in the brig,” Moore mutters. “There’s more than one man sitting in Leavenworth for the rest of their natural lives.”

Tony can see that makes Bruce even more uncomfortable, but Ross says, “Well, if this trial is a success, then we can always turn our sights to that population for the next stage before using it on our own soldiers.”

There’s a reason that Tony avoids these assholes as often as possible.

Bruce just grimaces and asks, “Shall we get to it?”

He’s using one of the isolation rooms in the compound that has an observation window. There’s a reclined chair and some medical equipment, but it’s otherwise empty. Bruce allows one of the on-site nurses to put in the IV line, but then he insists that she leave.

The room is built for those suffering from radiation poisoning, to shield everyone else, which is why it’s ideal for this test.

Tony watches as Bruce attaches the bag with the medication to the line, and then opens the valve to allow it to begin slowly dripping into his bloodstream.

“The infusion will take approximately thirty minutes,” Bruce says, his voice tinny over the intercom. “After that, I’ll be exposed to a lethal dose of radiation. Ideally, I’ll see no effects. If that’s the case, then we’ll start intensive monitoring over the next 30 days. Assuming that it doesn’t kill me, and there are no other ill effects, we can start planning for the next phase of the project.”

Obviously, Tony is hoping for the latter set of circumstances, but the worst case scenario would be to have it only appear to work, and then to watch Bruce die by inches.

Tony keeps to himself as the generals talk amongst themselves and their retinues. He wishes that Steve and Natasha hadn’t had that mission, and could have been there with him. At least he would have someone sane to talk to.

Once the infusion is done, Bruce unhooks the IV. “Triggering the radiation dose now. The room is shielded, so I’ll be the only one affected.”

There’s a flash of light, more as a signal to the observers that something has happened than because it was necessary to the process.

At first, there appear to be no after effects, which is what they’d hoped for. That dose of radiation should show immediate, deleterious results, including burns, but there’s nothing for the first few minutes.

Tony starts to let out a sigh of relief, and then Bruce’s skin starts to turn green, and he begins to yell in pain.

“What’s going on?” Ross demands. “What’s happening?”

“I don’t know,” Tony snaps. “None of the simulations went like this.”

There’s nothing special about Bruce’s physiology; he’s never been exposed to the super soldier serum, but his body is changing as though it has something else going on.

Bruce’s limbs contort, and he’s still shouting, and Tony wants badly to intervene, but he knows there’s nothing he can do. The radiation levels in the room are high enough to kill anyone who enters.

He and Bruce had talked about what to do if the treatment didn’t work, and Bruce’s admonition had been to leave him in the room until the levels were safe enough to don a suit and provide aid, but not to go in a moment before. They had estimated about an hour, but the radiation dosage wouldn’t be immediately fatal. If it failed, Bruce would be given palliative care as they waited it out.

“Do something!” Daniels shouts. “It’s killing him!”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Tony snaps back. “It’s not safe, and Bruce won’t thank us if we get someone else killed through our stupidity.”

Bruce’s skin is getting greener, and he’s getting bigger, swelling up as the seams of his clothing rip, and then his eyes—bright green now—open and find Tony’s in the observation room.

“I’m sorry,” Bruce manages to rasp out, just before his eyes roll up in the back of his head, and he goes limp.

The monitors, which had been going crazy up until that moment, flatline, letting out a long, low beep before being silenced.

“What the hell happened?” Ross roars.

Tony presses his hands against the glass, and he can’t say what he feels in that moment. He’s numb, but he’s also angry, so very angry at these men who had pushed and pushed for something that would give them a military advantage, with no care for the man trying to create it.

Too angry to speak, Tony begins to leave the room silently.

“Stark!” Ross yells after him. “Stark! Get back here! I want to know what happened.”

Tony stops, takes a deep breath, and looks over his shoulder. “I’m not qualified to perform the autopsy, General Ross. Let me know what you find out. I would also like to know what killed my friend—since I already know who.”

He’s proud of that parting shot, and he knows the compound better than any of them. Tony grabs the bottle of bourbon they shared the night before, and he goes to the greenhouse, where no one but Bruce would be likely to look for him.

He wants to get drunk, but he remembers Natasha’s advice the last time he’d been intent on drinking himself into oblivion. “Pace yourself, solnishko. Being sick and having a hangover is miserable, and you’re already miserable enough.”

So, Tony paces himself, drinking slowly, until the anger is banked under a layer of booze, until the pain has been dulled. Tony knows it will come back with a vengeance tomorrow, which is when he’ll need to be careful not to crawl into a bottle, but he thinks he deserves a little numbing tonight.

Steve is the one to find him, and he sits down next to Tony. There’s an almost-healed cut on his right cheek, and he looks a little the worse for wear.

“I thought it was recon,” Tony says, pleased that his words are only slightly slurred. He’s put away a good portion of the bottle.

“It was,” Steve says. “But there was bad intel. Good thing Nat and I are who we are. Anyone else, and it would have been a slaughter.”

“Good thing,” Tony echoes, because he couldn’t stand losing them on top of everything else.

If he loses Steve and Natasha, he’s going to forget his promises to Bruce, and he’s going to crawl into a bottle and never come out.

“I heard what happened,” Steve says. “Tony, I’m sorry.”

“Do you know what killed him, or have they finished the autopsy yet?” Tony asks bitterly.

“They rushed it,” Steve admits. “Probably put a couple of people in the hospital with radiation poisoning, too, but they’ll live. It seems that Bruce’s treatment triggered a similar change as what Erskine’s formula did in me. It wasn’t the formula or the radiation that killed him, though. He had a weakened blood vessel in his brain, and when the transformation started, it burst. It might have burst even without all of that.”

Tony starts laughing mirthlessly. “A brain aneurysm. His brain killed him.”

“That’s what it looks like,” Steve says, his expression full of concern. “Have you eaten anything today?”

Tony holds up the bottle. “Just this, maybe some toast. I don’t remember now.”

“You need some water and a shower,” Steve says. “And then you need to sleep. I’d suggest food, but you’d probably puke.”

“I can’t eat,” Tony says. “I’m sorry, Steve. I swear, I’m not going to crawl into a bottle, but it was either that or set fire to the world, and that’s already on fire.”

“Come on,” Steve replies, offering him a hand up. “Let Nat and I take care of you tonight. We can talk about who we’re setting on fire tomorrow.”

And Tony allows Steve to haul him to his feet and then into a hug, and he just holds on, glad there’s still something to hold on to.

Now

Tony has no idea what to expect from Bruce’s cousin. Bruce hadn’t mentioned her before, and so it’s possible that she hadn’t existed, or had died, or even that they just didn’t have a relationship. There’s no way for Tony to know now.

He does have one thing going for him: Jenn hadn’t met this universe’s version of Tony Stark, and she seems inclined to like him, just for Bruce’s sake.

Bruce is working in the kitchen, humming under his breath. He’s green, and Tony marvels at how his large hands easily handle the knife as he chops the poached shrimp for something called ceviche. Tony has never heard of it, but Bruce hasn’t made anything he hasn’t enjoyed yet.

“How are you with spice?” Bruce asks, holding up a small, green pepper.

Tony peers at it. “Is that a jalapeño?”

Bruce raises his eyebrows. “How do you know what a jalapeño is?”

Tony grins. “They do can those, Bruce, and the compound had a greenhouse until—“ He stops. “Well, until we couldn’t keep it up anymore.”

Bruce shrugs. “Makes sense. So, jalapeños?”

“I’m good with some spice,” Tony replies.

Bruce starts dicing the pepper finely, and says, “Penny for your thoughts?”

“I’ve just never met the other version of your cousin, and he never mentioned her,” Tony admits. “I’m not sure what to expect.”

“She’s going to love you,” Bruce says simply. “Because she’s inclined to at least like anyone who makes me happy.”

“Were you happy before?” Tony asks.

“I was—content,” Bruce replies after a moment’s hesitation. “But I could have been better.”

Tony knows that he’s asked the question before, but he has the compulsion to keep checking in to make sure Bruce isn’t regretting Tony swooping in and disrupting his life to hell and back.

“And stop that,” Bruce says, as though reading Tony’s mind, and Tony wouldn’t exactly put it past him. “You know I like having you here, no question about that, so put it out of your head.

“But if you want reassurance, I don’t mind providing it,” Bruce adds.

“Thanks,” Tony says. “For understanding.”

“I get it,” Bruce replies. “It’s no problem. Also, Jenn will like you just fine because she gets along with just about everyone.”

Tony smiles. “Is that because she genuinely likes just about everyone, or because she’s incredibly good at faking it?”

Bruce appears to think about it, cocking his head to the side. “Probably the latter.”

“Then I’m sure we’ll get along just fine,” Tony says. “I’m not sure I trust anyone who genuinely likes most people.”

Bruce laughs at that. “Fair point. I would agree with you.”

“When is she supposed to arrive?” Tony asks.

Bruce checks the time and says, “She should be here any minute, unless she managed to get lost.”

“I never get lost!” a feminine voice calls from the side of the porch. She’s a relatively young woman, with dark, curly hair and warm brown eyes, similar to Bruce’s. She’s grinning broadly, and as soon as she sees that Bruce is green, she gains two feet and skin the same hue. “Lookin’ good, cuz!”

“Come here,” Bruce says, pulling her into a tight hug. “So are you. Good to see you.”

Jenn pulls back slightly, searching his face, and smiling when she seems to find what she’d been looking for. “It’s good to see you in person finally.” She turns to look at Tony, and thrusts out a green hand. “Jennifer Walters, nice to meet you.”

Tony finds his hand engulfed in hers, her grip firm, but not enough to hurt, just enough to exert a little pressure. “Nice to meet you, too.”

“How are you liking Mexico?” she asks brightly.

“It’s been great,” Tony admits. “It had been far too long since I was able to get daylight and fresh air with any kind of regularity.”

She grimaces. “I can only imagine. I’m just going to go grab my things from the car.”

“Do you want any help?” Tony asks, before he realizes how that sounds, asking a Hulk if they need help.

Jenn just laughs. “No, I’ve got it, but thanks for the offer.”

“Told you she’d like you,” Bruce mutters as she leaves.

“You did,” Tony replies. “But what was that about?”

“It seems that in at least two universes there are Tony Starks who don’t treat a Hulk any differently from anyone else,” Bruce says fondly. “I don’t know of anyone else I can say that about.”

Jenn comes back inside, carrying a small suitcase. “Bruce did say that you were one of the few people who never seemed to mind him being green. Shall I put this in the guest room?”

“Go ahead,” Bruce says, gesturing with the hand not holding the knife. Now, he’s slicing some kind of orange fruit that glistens with juice. “The sweet will offset the heat.”

“What is it?” Tony asks.

“Mango,” Bruce replies, holding out a piece of fruit, and Tony takes it, popping it in his mouth, letting the sweetness burst on his tongue.

“Oh, that’s good,” Tony says, licking the juice off his fingers.

Jenn returns and peers into the bowl that Bruce is tossing everything into. “Is that ceviche?”

“It is,” Bruce replies.

“Awesome,” Jenn says. “I’m starving.”

“There’s salsa in the fridge, and you can break into the chips if you want. This will need to marinate for a bit.”

Jenn is clearly comfortable in Bruce’s space, because she goes straight for the fridge and pulls out a bowl of salsa, then to the cupboard where Bruce apparently keeps the chips.

She hands the bag to Tony. “Would you open that? When I’m green, chips go flying everywhere about half the time.”

Tony has no trouble opening the bag, but he asks, “Why not just transform, open the bag, then change back?”

“If I’m alone, I usually do,” Jenn admits. “But since you’re sitting right there…”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Oh, I see how this is going to be.”

Jenn just grins at him.

Bruce is back to humming as he chops onion.

“So, how long are you going to stay here, Bruce?” Jenn asks.

Bruce shrugs. “Until we get tired of being here, I guess. There’s no timeline.”

“No, there never really is,” Jenn replies.

“How’s Matt?” Bruce asks, and there’s a gentle teasing note in his voice.

Jenn offers a mild glare. “He’s just fine, thanks for asking.”

“You two still working together?” Bruce asks. “Instead of facing off against each other?”

Jenn snorts. “I didn’t even know who he was, you know?”

“Who’s this?” Tony asks, taking a drink of his water.

“Matt Murdock, my boyfriend,” Jenn replies. “He’s also known to fight crime on occasion, although I am sworn to secrecy on that front. As far as the rest of the world is concerned, he’s just a very gifted attorney.”

“And you two work together?” Tony asks. “Is that how you you met?”

Jenn laughs. “No, actually, we were on opposite sides of a case, and then we teamed up to take down someone calling themselves ‘Leap Frog,’ of all things. And we just kind of hit it off. He has a law firm with his best friend, and I have a solo practice, and sometimes we team up for cases.”

“Not looking to become a partner?” Bruce teases.

Jenn shakes her head. “No way. I like Matt, and we’re having a lot of fun together, but I’m not about to horn in on his practice with Foggy.”

“Plus, awkward if you ever do break up,” Tony points out.

“Exactly,” Jenn replies, pointing at Tony. “Don’t get me wrong, I have no plans to break up right now, but we haven’t even had the DTR talk yet.”

“DTR?” Tony asks.

“Define the relationship,” Jenn says, munching on a chip. “You know, are you exclusive? Is this serious? Is this going anywhere?” She looks between them. “Have you two had that talk yet?”

“We’re taking it a day at a time,” Bruce says firmly. “But I’m happy to change the topic.”

“Good call,” Jenn replies, munching on another chip. “So, what have you guys been up to, other than science?”

Since she’s looking at him, Tony responds. “Bruce taught me how to swim, so we’ve been doing that and surfing. Although, I think we’re still mostly falling. I don’t know that we’ve actually done anything that could be called surfing yet.”

“You did okay yesterday,” Bruce points out. “I think you were on your feet for a whole three seconds.”

Tony responds by sticking his tongue out. “You were on for at least ten.”

“I’ve done it before,” Bruce replies. “I vaguely remember how it works.”

“That’s pretty much it,” Tony says.

Jenn looks between them, and then she shakes her head. “I don’t think that’s entirely it, but you know what? The rest of it, I don’t want to hear about.”

“Good choice,” Bruce teases.

Tony grabs a chip with salsa, and pops the bite into his mouth, content to listen to Bruce and Jenn rib each other. There’s a warm breeze off the ocean, salt on the air, and Tony is content.

~~~~~

Natasha is with James in his quarters when he receives a call. He answers with a curt, “Barnes.” There’s a pause. “Yeah, we can make ourselves available, but why not let the locals handle it?”

Another pause. “Fucking shit,” James mutters. “Yeah, Natasha and I will go together, then call in Steve and Sam if we need the firepower. The two of us are better at clandestine work anyway.”

“Yeah, okay, we’ll report back,” James replies to the person on the other end of the phone. He puts his phone back on the bedside table, and rolls to kiss Natasha on her bare shoulder. “There was a theft of some very sensitive property from Stark Industries, and we’ve been asked to investigate who’s behind it.”

Natasha frowns. “Us?”

“I guess it’s sensitive enough that they don’t want the local police investigating,” James replies. “So, we’re up if you’re up for it.”

Natasha sits up and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Then we’d best get moving. Where are the headquarters?”

“Los Angeles,” James replies. “And that’s where we’re heading. We can review security footage and other evidence once we’re there.”

“I’m going to grab a quick shower,” Natasha replies. She has her hair pulled back in a braid, having brushed it out the night before. All she really needs is a quick shower, and to pull on clean clothing.

Of course, then James climbs into the shower behind her, and so it’s not going to be quite so quick.

“You mind if your hair gets wet?” James asks.

Natasha is pleased that he knows her well enough to ask. “I’d rather keep it dry.”

“Easy enough to do,” James replies. He washes her back with a gentle right hand, keeping her turned so her hair doesn’t get wet. Then he lifts her with his metal arm, her back braced against the wall of the shower, and he kisses her as though his life depends on it.

Natasha pushes her fingers through his damp hair and wraps her legs around his waist, feeling him thrust up inside her. She feels the desire rise up, and marvels at how easy it’s been to fall into old practices.

She and James had always taken every opportunity to make love; it was the only softness either of them had known in that world. Now, there isn’t the external pressure, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t the internal desire.

Natasha tips her head back, and James presses his lips to her pulse point, which has always driven her crazy. She comes soon after, and James presses up hard, pressing his forehead against her shoulder.

He puts her down gently, and they both rinse off quickly. “Thank you,” James says, giving her a quick kiss on the lips. “That was great.”

Natasha smiles. “It always is.”

She’s still not taking clean clothes for granted, and she finds a pair of jeans and a t-shirt with a blazer and comfortable shoes. There’s a duffel bag, and she throws a few things into it, as well as toiletries, as James does the same.

She’s not sure what to expect, but she trusts James, and she’s willing to follow his lead. Natasha doesn’t mind having a mission where they aren’t sleeping rough in an abandoned building.

At least, she’s assuming that they won’t be sleeping rough.

“I suppose I don’t need to ask why it’s us going,” Natasha says.

James grins. “No, you don’t. Sam is more of a blunt instrument, although I certainly can be if necessary. Steve was never really one for clandestine actions either. But I think we have the skill sets necessary between the two of us.”

“What do you think it means that the technology has been stolen?” Natasha asks.

James shakes his head. “I don’t know, but it’s part of their proprietary smart house technology, which was originally used in the missile guidance system.”

“So, the technology has a benign use, but also a very destructive one,” Natasha sums up. “And we don’t know for which use it was stolen.”

“Got it in one, but I think we have to assume the worst,” James replies.

Natasha gives him a look. “I’m Russian. I always assume the worst, and there are times when I’m even pleasantly surprised.”

James chuckles at that. “I understand that point of view all too well.”

“Do we have any frequent offenders?” Natasha asks.

James grimaces. “Now that you mention it, this is the kind of thing that usually has a big buyer. Call Yelena,” he says, obviously speaking to whatever AI takes care of those things.

Natasha really has no desire to speak with Yelena, even if this version never betrayed her.

James shoots her a knowing look, even as Yelena answers, “Barnes, what do you want?”

“Not even a hello?” James asks, a teasing note in his voice.

“I don’t have time for niceties,” Yelena replies flatly. “What do you want?”

“Know of anyone in the market for a missile targeting system?” James asks.

Yelena begins cursing in Russian. “I thought they couldn’t get it.”

“They stole technology from Stark Industries that could easily be repurposed,” James replies. “So, I take it that’s a yes.”

“I’m tracking them,” Yelena replies. “So, yes. The buyer is rumored to be related to Hydra.”

“Fucking Hydra,” James mutters. “Who?”

“Unknown,” Yelena says. “But you know how they are. They don’t like to be known. Rumor also has it that Fisk might be the middle man.”

“I thought he was dead,” James objects. “Didn’t that kid shoot him in the face?”

“You know money can buy anything, and he has a lot of it,” Yelena responds. “I heard he pulled through, but stays out of the public eye because of the scarring.”

“Well, shit,” James says. “Okay, that’s at least good intel. We’re going to try to track down who stole the tech. Are you going to keep working it from your end?”

“That’s the plan,” Yelena replies and hangs up.

Natasha frowns. “What’s Hydra like here?”

She would rather focus on the task at hand than her complicated feelings about Yelena.

James sighs. “Every time we think we’ve shut them down for good, they pop back up again, and they’re good at working from the shadows.”

“Great,” Natasha says. “I love it when I don’t know who the target is.”

James shrugs. “We’ll know more once we have the chance to review the surveillance.”

Natasha hopes he’s right about that. She’s used to working in the shadows, and she knows just how difficult it can be to chase unknown subjects. She likes having more intel, but she doesn’t mind gathering it, not really.

Of course, she’s with James, which automatically makes it a good time, and she suspects that James hates Hydra as much or more than she does.

They land the Quinjet in a specific area set aside for just that purpose, which tells Natasha just how much of a presence the Avengers has at Stark Industries. They’re met by a young woman with dark hair and stunning green eyes. “Sergeant Barnes, Agent Romanova, Ms. Potts has instructed me to place myself at your disposal during your investigation. We have a conference room set aside, and she’s made a reservation at a hotel for you to stay at until your investigation concludes.”

“And you are?” James asks, and there’s that charm Natasha remembers.

The woman blushes. “Oh, I’m sorry. How rude of me. I’m Meg Anderson.”

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Anderson,” James says, and it’s a good thing that Natasha already knows that he flirts like he breathes. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Her blush deepens. “Likewise. Please, come right this way.”

Meg Anderson only has eyes for James now, but that suits Natasha nicely. If they haven’t been given the access they need—either because Pepper Potts had declared areas off-limits, or because she doesn’t think they need to know, Natasha will be able to get in.

Natasha doesn’t know this woman, and so she’s making no assumptions. If she needs to go off-book, she’d rather all eyes be focused on James.

The conference room that Ms. Anderson directs them to is large, well appointed, and has two laptops already hooked up to large monitors mounted on the walls.

“Thank you,” James says gravely. “We can take it from here. We’re eager to get started.”

Ms. Anderson leaves, and James rolls his eyes. “I notice she didn’t even look at you.”

“She wasn’t supposed to,” Natasha says, amused. “Right now, one of us needs to be able to get in to places they might not want us to be, and that’s me. I’m less notable.”

James gives her a once-over. “I don’t think so.”

“Let’s get to work,” Natasha says. “The sooner we figure this out, the sooner we can take down Hydra.”

The first thing they do is to unhook the computers from the monitors; there’s no sense in showing what they’ve found to the world. Natasha knows that she’s not going to be much help when it comes to recognizing people. Even if she knew their counterpart in her world, it doesn’t mean they’re the same in this one.

It’s hard to say whether her knowledge of computers will be useful, but she can always phone Tony, and trust that he’ll be able to figure it out.

They divide and conquer: James reviews the surveillance to see if he recognizes anyone while also running the facial recognition program. Natasha starts following the data trail, looking at the IP addresses that logged into the system to see if there are any anomalies.

There’s just one. Someone had accessed the schematics at 2 pm, but the IP address matches someone in the security department, who should have no business looking at those plans.

Natasha pulls out her cell phone to call Tony. “I need your help,” she says as soon as he answers, his face appearing on screen.

“Hello to you, too,” Tony replies. “I’m fine, thanks for asking.”

“You’re with Bruce, it seemed like a dumb question,” Natasha replies. “And we may be under the gun here.”

“Shoot,” Tony replies, with a quick grin at his own pun, before settling into a focused expression. It’s one of the things Natasha likes about him. He’ll joke, but he can be serious when the moment calls for it.

“We think it might be Hydra, and they’ve stolen schematics that could be used in a guided missile system,” she says. “I have a security guard who logged in, but there’s no way he should have had the clearance. I think he might’ve been using some kind of bug. How would I know, and how would I disable it?”

“This is for Stark Industries?” Tony asks. “Ms. Potts consulted Bruce on whether she should call you guys in or turn it over to the authorities.”

“Yeah, that’s the one,” Natasha says.

Tony is quiet for a long moment. “Okay, you’re going to need to open up the utilities and the command center. I’ll walk you through the rest.”

Natasha is used to asking Tony technical questions, and then following Tony’s instructions. Even without a backdoor, Tony seems to know what he’s looking at, and he seamlessly walks her through tracking the IP address as James reviews surveillance.

“It was a security guard using a plug and play backdoor, probably given to him by whoever asked him to steal the information,” Natasha announces.

“What time?” Bucky asks. “And where is the station that he accessed the information?”

Natasha frowns. “Third floor, security office, around 2 pm four days ago.”

James’ fingers fly over his keyboard. “Got it, and I have the culprit. Huh.”

“What’s up?” Natasha asks.

“I’m pretty sure I know this guy,” James replies. “The face is different, but I’d know that build and those movements anywhere. That has to be John Walker, but I never took him for a Hydra agent.”

“He doesn’t need to be in Hydra to be used by Hydra,” Natasha reminds him. “Do you think he’s easily manipulated?”

James snorts. “There’s no question about that, especially given the fact that the Senate stripped him of his rank and his title of Captain America.”

“I thought Sam was Captain America,” Natasha objects.

James sighs. “Sam was always Steve’s pick to succeed him, but the U.S. government had a different idea and selected John Walker, former Army captain, and Congressional Medal of Honor recipient. On paper, he was perfect. In reality, it went to his head, and he murdered someone in full view of the public.”

Natasha swears in Russian. “Are you kidding me?”

“To be fair, his best friend had just been killed, but it’s still not a good look,” James says. “So, yeah, I think he could probably be manipulated fairly easily into thinking he’s doing the right thing.”

“We’re going to need more than your gut instinct to prove that he was the one who committed the theft,” Natasha points out. “If we can’t recognize his face.”

James sits back in his chair and stretches. “Fair point. There might still be some trace evidence at the station he used. If not, then we’ll need to trace his movements, see if we can place him here.”

The station used to download the schematics is out of the way, and not often utilized, which makes the chances of finding some evidence much better.

“Do you do this often?” Natasha asks, amused.

“No, which is why I’m going to ask Meg to dispatch someone from security that she trusts to help,” James replies. “I’m not risking being able to hold him accountable by me fucking this up.”

Meg is standing outside the door, waiting on them, and James says, “Do you have anyone in security that you trust implicitly?”

She nods immediately. “Yes, of course.”

“We’ve identified the station used, and we think we know who it was, but we’ll need more proof than what we currently have,” James says.

Meg nods. “I’ll call security. They can meet you here, and you can show them which station was used.”

Less than five minutes later, a husky man in a suit appears with a kit in hand. “Happy Hogan. I’m at your service, Mr. Barnes, Ms. Romanova.”

“Let’s go,” James replies.

Hogan follows them to the computer station used, and he begins to swab for DNA and dust for prints. “Looks like we might have some fingerprints here, but we’ll have to wait for the lab to know whether we have DNA,” Hogan says.

He puts the prints into the computer system. “I’ll compare them against all of SI’s current and former employees, of course, but if you have a specific person to compare them to, it will go faster.”

“John Walker,” James replies.

Hogan’s dark eyes go wide. “You mean the insane guy who was Captain America briefly?”

“That’s the one,” James says.

“Well, his prints will be on file with the government, and SI has some strong contacts,” Hogan replies. “I’ll make a call. Should have something in about ten minutes.”

Natasha and James head back to the conference room, and she says, “I really thought that would take longer.”

“I’m sure Hydra thought using Walker in a mask would muddy the waters,” James replies, propping his feet up on the table. “Or that we somehow wouldn’t be able to figure out that it was him.”

“You figured it out,” Natasha replies, nudging his leg with her foot. “Just by seeing how he moves.”

James laughs. “Yeah, well, I watched him enough, mostly while thinking that he’s no Steve Rogers.”

“Who is?” Natasha jokes.

“True enough,” James says.

Sure enough, Hogan is back in under ten minutes, and he says, “That was a good call. Fingerprints are a match to Walker.”

“What comes next?” Natasha asks.

James shrugs. “We’ll have to find Walker and bring him in. Shouldn’t be too hard.”

Famous last words.

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