A/N: Okay, so maybe this wasn't the best idea I've ever had. You see, here's the thing. Tony's birthday was coming up and I started thinking, 'Maybe I should write a short something in its honor'. Well... um. That's an interesting gift I've got here. Happy birthday, Tony?
L&L are going to kill me for this.
Warnings: Character death. like, major one. Also, angst, and mentions of self-hatred and self-destructive behavior. And polyamory, too.
Summary: Like all terrible, world-altering things, it happens in seconds. Silence, where only seconds ago the voices he loves the most had mocked and joked like they always do.
I own nothing.
Like a heartbeat, drives you mad
In the stillness of remembering what you had
Like all terrible, world-altering things, it happens in seconds. So quick, so sudden, and nobody has enough time to react.
Steve stands in the middle of the destroyed, chaotic street, surrounded by rubble and fires and mutilated cars, his blue combat suit covered with burn patches and ash, and he covers his mouth and coughs as smoke and dust rise around him. He can feel the earth shaking and rumbling under his feet way before even hearing or seeing the fire of the explosion, his world quaking, his heart stuttering to a halt as realization sinks in. There are no longer voices chattering endlessly into his ear as they had only moments earlier, the silence of the comm piece inside his ear dragging, stretching. So long that it feels like forever and hell mixed together.
Silence, where only seconds ago the voices he loves the most had mocked and joked like they always do. Where only seconds ago he'd known them to be safe, or, as safe as they could be.
"Iron Man, stand down! This is too dangerous!"
"There are civilians in there, Cap! I'm going in."
"No, I- Tony-! fuck, Winter! Go after him!"
"Already on it!"
The next thing he knows, there's a deafening crackle of noise echoing through the previously silent comms, making the rest of the team wince at the noise, and then the earth shakes with the brute force of a collapsing building, smoke and fire and debris rising into the air, blinding them all. Steve looks up in growing panic, his heart in his throat, but he can see Bucky already leap and climb like a monkey over the falling chunks of concrete without hesitation, using his metal arm to deflect the ones that threaten to stop him from getting in.
Not even caring about stopping the rest of the terrorists that still attempt to shout threats and evil plans at them - because really, the Avengers are so used to that kind of puny villains, and they can handle them well enough even without him there to give orders - Steve shoots Sam a quick glance, making sure the man knows he's to be in charge while Steve is away, and then he takes off. He turns to run after Bucky inside the destroyed building, towards the area Tony should have crashed into, hoping against all odds that they are both still as safe as they were only minutes ago.
"Tony? Iron Man, report!" He immediately yells into his device.
The comms crackle once more with no response. Steve can hear his blood rushing in his ears, his breath catching inside his chest with fear, and then-
"Captain." The mechanical, polite voice of Tony's AI speaks in their ears, and Steve lets out a harsh breath at the sound. And even though he still doesn't know whether to feel relieved or scared as all hell that it isn't Tony who answers his call, it's still something.
"JARVIS?" Steve presses on his ear piece urgently, following the path Bucky had paved through the debris, climbing up and ignoring the dust that rises and chokes him whenever he accidently causes rocks to drop. "JARVIS? Is Tony okay?"
The AI stays silent for a long, stretching moment, and Steve can feel his heart flutter in utter fear. This can't be good, oh, God. God, no.
"J, I can see 'm!" Bucky's voice suddenly calls in his ears, tearing Steve out of his spiraling thoughts, and in that moment Steve thinks there never was a sweeter sound, relief washing over him.
Bucky's there. Bucky will keep Tony safe.
Steve pauses mid-climb to look up, his hands clutching onto sharp edges of rock and ruin as he strains to look up and beyond the swirling dust. He can spot the other Soldier's tiny figure at the farthest end of the ruins, jumping over a pile of rocks and landing in a forceful crouch that makes the already fragile concrete underneath him shudder. "He's under the rubble," Bucky tells JARVIS. "Can you control the suit to get 'm out?"
"It is a bit complicated, Sergeant, but I think I can tr-"
"B... Buck...?"
Two hearts miss a beat at the familiar, terrifyingly weak voice, and Steve's only vaguely aware of the hissed curse Clint lets out through the comms, of Widow's relieved sigh and of Bruce's quiet whisper of, "Thanks God". Heart pounding madly against his ribs, he allows his feet to carry him forwards, towards Bucky's small and blurry form that grows larger the closer he gets. Then, amidst the ruins, he can spot a shifting blur of red and gold, too, the upper torso of the suit carefully supported in the crook of Bucky's flesh arm while his metal one keeps working to get the rest of the suit and the man inside free.
"It's okay, doll, you're okay." Steve hears Bucky say softly, both through the comms and in person, now that he's close enough to see Tony's bloodied face as Bucky tears his faceplate off to place a quick, gentle and kiss on his forehead. "Thanks God," He breathes, taking a moment to close his eyes in silent relief before opening them again and pressing his earpiece, his whole posture meaning business once again.
"Hawkeye!" Bucky calls out urgently into the comms.
"Here, Ice Cube."
"Call evac, now. We need 'm out of here as soon as possible."
"Already called." Clint replies, a hint of worry in his tone. "Is Stark okay?"
"Dunno." Bucky says, and he may sound as calm and as calculated as always, but Steve can recognize the subtle signs of fear in his voice, can see the worry that lines his baby face as he takes in the horrible state the red and gold suit is in, metal beaten and pierced and bended so unnaturally in too many places, which can only mean the worst. Steve shakes the thought with a shudder. He can't think that way. "I'm still trying to get 'm out. J, help me pull this off-"
Steve plucks his earpiece out after that, now close enough to not need it nor the distraction it brings. He shoves it into a small pocket in his belt and hurries towards the two, collapsing onto his knees beside them. "Tony!" He calls out to him, moving to help Bucky in pulling debris and rocks off of the trapped suit, blue eyes worriedly watching Tony's quiet winces whenever the manage to remove one of the rocks that weigh him down. "Tony, hold on, sweetheart. We're gonna get you out." He says, eyes momentarily meeting Bucky's grateful, loving gaze before returning his full attention to the task at hand. They are both there now, they wouldn't let anything happen to their third piece. Tony will be okay, because he has to be.
"N-no," Tony chokes out, and his metal clad fingers twitch in the dust, arm still trapped. Steve's blue eyes shift to take in the state the other's face's in, and he winces in sympathy at the array of bruises and cuts. He stares for a long moment, locked in the beautiful brown of Tony's eyes that is now tainted with pain and agony. It takes him a long moment to realize, but then he sees it, lost amongst the many bleeding scratches over Tony's face. Horrified, Steve finally notices the thin, steady trickle of blood that escapes the corner of Tony's mouth, a lump of pure terror forming at the base of his throat. Internal bleeding, his brain supplies. This can't be good. This is bad. "Steve, no. No t-time, civilians-"
"We're getting you out." Steve repeats firmly and tries to keep his fear out of his voice, his tone final. Fingers come up to brush Tony's bloodied hair out of his pained eyes, his other hand working to get his arm free from the rock it's trapped under. Tony groans hoarsely then, a strangled, whimpering noise, and Steve pauses, worry and panic lodged in his throat. "Sorry, I'm sorry, sweetheart." He apologizes vehemently, pulling the arm free and kissing the metal clad knuckles. "You're okay, help is coming.
"...they won't get here in t-time." Tony smiles sadly at them, his teeth stained red. Bucky growls deep in his throat, the noise catching as he shoves the last of the concrete lump off of their injured boyfriend. What the hell is he saying?
"No." He declares just as firmly, as if his words are fact. "No. They're gonna get here and you're gonna hold on because you have to, you hear?" Bucky orders, but as harsh as his tone is, his pale eyes betray the fear he tries to hide from Tony, and fails, if the wet chuckle Tony lets out is anything to go by.
"Always so naive," He whispers fondly, the words gurgling a little in his throat as he reaches up to brush the knuckles of his metal gauntlet over Bucky's sloppy stubble, and Bucky can feel his heart crack at the weak, trembling touch. He can't bear the sad, self-deprecating, self-punishing air in Tony's wavering voice. Even after all that time... he'd hoped, months, years before, that he and Steve could be - would be - enough. That maybe, somehow, they would be able to prove to Tony that he was truly, completely and wholly, loved. That maybe he would finally be able to believe it himself, someday.
But there's still that small, barely-hidden self-loathing look in Tony's eyes. The look that tells Bucky he believes he deserves this.
"My chest is in ribbons, b-baby." Tony forces himself to continue with a shaky pat over Bucky's heart, even though it's a struggle, his voice growing weaker by the second. "I've got a h-hole in m-my stomach the size of the grand canyon, by the feel of it. Sorry to leave the p-party so soon, but... I'm, I'm not gonna make it." He smiles softly at them, blood dripping from his goatee as Steve lets out a strangled mewl and draws his shattered body into his arms, repeatedly gasping an apology at Tony's sudden hoarse, pained shout. Steve's fingers ghost over Tony's jaw, shakily wiping away the blood as his hold on the weak body tightens just so.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart," Steve whispers hotly into Tony's temple, kissing the bruised skin there again and again and again, blue eyes squeezed shut. Tony just breathes harshly through his nose, pressing as close as he could to Steve with his metal suit still between them. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to. I'm sorry."
Bucky trembles violently as he watches the two, trying to process these words. They echo in his mind, swirling and twisting and clawing at his sanity, and he can't handle it. They... those two men, those two wonderful men, they mean everything to him. They are all he has in this brutal, violent world. Losing one of them is... unfathomable. He just can't accept this, it has to be an exaggeration. It has to be. Tony is known, after all, for his theatrics, known for not always seeing or showing the situation the way it actually is. Bucky knows he tends to either make light of something, or go over the top with it. So yes, yes, this has to be the case here, too, Bucky tells himself, hopes. It has to be. He has to believe it, else...
"J," Bucky forces out, sucking in a desperate breath that he isn't aware he's holding. "Dismantle the armor. I need to see."
Please, please don't let it be true.
"B-Buck-" Tony tries, shifting a little in Steve's loosening hold, but the word gets stuck in his throat as the beaten, punctured armor draws back and away, jarring his open wounds. His fingers twist into Steve's chest, and the three of them gasp when the armor drops beside them, Tony in a high-pitched, pained breath, the other two with shock.
The first thing they see is blood. So much blood Bucky can't believe it all came out of one human body. It's everywhere, staining Tony's clothes and his armor, dripping onto the ground and soaking Steve's blue suit, although the blond doesn't seem to notice. He's too busy watching, wide eyed and breathless, at the way Tony's chest stutters with each agonized, labored gasp. His clothes are a mess, wet with red and ripped. The two soldiers stare in horror, unable to tell where ruined fabric turns into torn and mangled flesh.
"Steve..." Bucky whispers in horror, pale blue eyes wide and disbelieving, one of his hands unconsciously moving to close over Steve's forearm and squeeze. Steve barely even registers the pain.
"S-sorry." Tony pants, trying to offer them a tiny smile. It turns into a wince, though, and Bucky's eyes fill with moisture.
"Tony..." He croaks, his hands - both metal and flesh - release Steve and move to hover just above the open, oozing wounds, trying to figure out a way to stop the bleeding. There are just too many, too much blood. The fabric that they have would never be enough to cover even half of the places that bleed the worst, and Bucky knows trying would only cause Tony more unnecessary pain. But just leaving him like this, open and bleeding and suffering, until help gets there... Never in his life, not even as a mindless HYDRA puppet, had Bucky felt so helpless. He can see Steve shaking beside him, the violent trembles of his body jostling Tony every few seconds, making him whimper in pain.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Steve chants quietly, frantically, his face buried in Tony's hair and his enormous shoulders quaking uncontrollably. He can't control it. "Oh, God." He chokes, even though Tony rests his head on his shoulder and whispers that it's okay, it's okay.
"Help is coming," Bucky says again then, as if trying to convince himself, hands balling to fists on the cracked ground. He can't take this anymore. He can't watch the two men he loves the most look so tormented, so pained. He needs to make it better, somehow. He has to. "Just, just hold on, sweetheart." He begs. "Please, just hold on." Pale eyes lock onto brown, pleading, desperate. Tony nods curtly, if only to indulge him, breath coming harsher and slower as he struggles to keep his eyes open.
"I w-will." He promises, wheezing as blood keeps dripping, slipping past his lips.
He knows this is the end.
They wait. They can hear Bruce through the comms, apologizing for taking so long, that the first quinjet they'd sent was shot down by one of the terrorists. He tells them that another one is on its way, informing them that a medical team is already waiting at the tower, alert and ready to take Tony the moment they get there. He tells them they shouldn't worry. That it was okay.
So they wait.
They wait so long.
"B-Buck," Tony wheezes after a while, his weakened body shaking as he shifts in Steve's embrace, trying to turn enough to look at the terrified brunet better.
Painful, sharp gasps make Tony's chest stutter and heave in effort, fingers twitching over the blood stained cement as he suddenly tenses. Bucky's shoulder tenses as well, pale eyes watching as the injured hand that's trapped against Steve's chest closes over the blond's wrist and squeezes, smearing blood over his sleeve as Tony desperately presses closer to him despite the pain. Steve whines softly in sorrow as Tony reaches out towards Bucky, who still kneels beside him and stares, frozen. Steve seems to know, seems to somehow sense what's happening, even though Bucky can't.
Won't.
And it's tearing him apart.
Tony's shaking violently now, barely able to hold his hand up, but he keeps trying to get a hold of Bucky, keeps trying to cling to his last, final lifeline. "Bucky," He begs, his voice trembling, gurgling, brown eyes wide and fearful. "B-Bucky... h-hold my hand."
Bucky doesn't think then. He doesn't stop to ask himself why, doesn't realize that this might be it, that this is the last time. He only knows that Tony suffers, and that there is nothing on this earth he would have denied him in that moment. So he reaches his flesh arm towards the twitching, bruised hand, silently and gently taking it in his and covers them both with cool metal.
Steve is sniffling beside him, one hand buried in Tony's hair, the other cradling him against his chest as if he were a child. There is blood dripping through his fingers and onto the ground, slick and warm and it makes his breath hitch at the feeling of so much of it coating his hands. He can't stop the strange, pathetic, uncontrollable noises that force themselves up his throat, and Bucky dully thinks they sound like something between a sob and a whimper, as if Steve - strong, stoic Steve who could always stay calm and focused even in the face of grief and pain - is losing all control over his emotions. But Bucky understands. He feels the same way.
Tony's choking gasps slow with each passing moment, their sound more desperate and agonized with each gurgled, shuddered inhale and exhale. His eyes are glazed, wet and scared, and they lock with Bucky's in a silent plea as his hand tightens around Bucky's fingers. A single tear slips out of his eye and trickles down slowly, disappearing into his hairline. Bucky's heart breaks.
"Shh... we're here, sweetheart." He whispers, pressing Tony's knuckles against his stubbled cheek, pale blue eyes watching the way his chest rose with each struggled breath for a moment before locking onto a pair of terrified brown. "Don't be scared, we're here. We're not leavin' you, you're okay."
Tony nods once, his nails scratching weakly at Bucky's palm. He looks somewhat relieved at that, though. Not as scared.
They stay like that for what feels like hours, but in reality probably lasts only a few minutes. In the background, Bucky can hear their teammates yell instructions into the comms. He can hear Clint yell that the quinjet is almost there, yells at them to just hold on, hold on. But Bucky only has eyes for his two boys. He watches as Tony's labored breaths slow and stutter, watches as Steve presses him closer to his chest and whispers something Bucky can not hear as he places a soft, desperate kiss onto Tony's temple, tears falling in rivers from his pained blue eyes.
But Tony apparently can, because he gives Bucky one last, wavering smile and relaxes just a bit, allowing his head to rest in the crook of Steve's neck as he whispers something back.
His eyes close.
Steve crumbles.
And everything stops.
Another tear slips from the corner of his closed eyes and suddenly the world comes to a halt. Bucky can't feel anything. He feels as if he's underwater, numb and detached and lost and he's drowning, drowning because he has no anchor anymore, nothing to keep his head up and help him breathe.
He can't see anything but the torn and battered chest that shudders to a stop, can't hear anything over the anguished cries that he only vaguely recognizes as Steve's, his own grieving wails sounding so distorted to his own ears that he can't be sure he even let any out at all. Bucky thinks he can feel something wet rolling down his face, but he can't bring himself to care. Nothing matters anymore, after all. Nothing should.
But everything does. Because Tony's still smiling, blood stained lips just slightly curved up in a sad, yet content curl, eyes closed and head tilted into Steve's shaking shoulder, looking the same as always whenever he falls asleep against one of them. And Bucky stares, and the broken pieces of his heart are full of so much love and grief and pain, and all he can do is sit there and watch Tony's beautiful, peaceful face.
Somewhere in the background, Bucky dully registers the loud sound of the quinjet engines that rumble just outside the building. He can hear Hawkeye yell for them, demanding to know what's happening. He can hear the panic in his voice, can hear the restrained fear in Natasha's as she keeps trying to order them to answer. Through the Stark piece that is still in his ear, Bucky recognizes something that sounds like a choked sob coming from Bruce, the only one who'd already figured it out, the only one who already mourns with them.
But Bucky doesn't care.
He doesn't look up, and neither does Steve, whose face is still buried in Tony's hair, drowning his painful screams. Not even when Clint's heavy boots sound behind him, not even when Thor's large palm lands over his flesh shoulder in an attempt to comfort. Bucky stays the way he is, his hands still clutching Tony's limp one between them, squeezing tight as if he could bring him back by sheer will. He stares and stares, his eyes burning and his heart empty, because nothing matters but the peaceful face that still smiles so softly, even now.
Because yes... Tony's still smiling, and that's what matters to him in the end, really. That's what finally convinces Bucky that Tony'd known, after all, and that he'd truly believed. He'd finally, finally believed. And that made whatever little time they had together worth it all, worth every effort, because it was enough. They were enough.
Tony died knowing he was loved.
And maybe now, Tony can find peace.
So Bucky brings their joined hands to his lips and kisses them gently, whispering a quiet, soft goodbye that floods the broken pieces of his soul, sinking them into a dark void of emptiness. And if his tears can wash away the blood from this limp hand, if his words can fix years of pain and grief... well then, maybe one day he can learn how to smile like that, too.
Listen carefully to the sound...
A/N: Steve's last words to Tony were, "It's okay if you need to let go now."
Sorry.
Song used: Dreams / Fleetwood mac