"…it was a battle that quaked the mountains, going on for days. It was only when I struck the final blow to the leader with the mighty Mjölnir that the battle finally ended in victory."
Tony was greeted with Thor's rumbling voice as he stepped into the private room. He cast a glance behind him, making sure that Bucky had definitely taken his advice and went to get a few minutes rest – satisfied to see no one through the window, he made his way further inside.
"You would have loved it, Captain – the taste of victory was sweet that day, something I have seen you accomplish many times." Thor didn't look up when Tony moved closer, only staring at Steve's lax features. Machines hummed and bleeped around him as he slept, dimly displaying his vitals on the small screens.
"Mind if I join?" Tony found himself asking. Something that he would have never done before the avengers, but somehow Steve had managed to weasel his way into his own morality and manners.
Dammit, Steve, Tony mentally huffed, making me look all soft.
Thor still did not look up from the Captain, but gave a warm smile.
"Of course." He replied quietly, holding Steve's hand in his own.
Tony sank into the plastic chair, finally free of the amour he had been encased in minutes before. He probably showered the quickest he ever had done in his life, but at least the smell of the lab no longer lingered on his body, no more blood stains marring his chest.
"How is he?" Tony asked into the silence. Thor's welcoming smile faded, creasing into worry.
"I am not accustomed to this kind of injury, not of the mind." The god admitted. "So I cannot speak for his mental state – but I am concerned about the other injuries he has sustained." Thor wordlessly gestured to Steve's broken body.
In the kindest words he could possibly use, Steve looked like a corpse. Worse than he had been when he had woken from the ice, or after the Chitauri had invaded – it frightened Tony, though he wouldn't openly admit it. This was a super soldier, almost indestructible, reduced to almost being driven to insanity by his own mind.
Dark shadows hung under his eyes, cheeks sunken in. His skin was pale, dry, and cold, despite the heat rushing into the hospital room. Bruises stained Steve's skin, running down his torso and back, accompanying the charred skin that he knew lay hidden underneath layers of bandages. They hadn't even begun to heal, and Tony felt sick thinking how much internal damage was inflicted to cause such a delay.
Steve suddenly furrowed his brow, making both men freeze. However, it relaxed again soon after, as Steve gave a small sigh in his sleep.
"I have never seen him so vulnerable. It's troubling." Thor sighed, moving his hand from Steve's palm to his shoulder. Tony let out a weak laugh, nodding slowly.
"You and me both…"
"Bruce mentioned that he is still suffering in his mind, despite his nature to resist most attacks." Thor began, still not taking his eyes off the Captain.
"Yeah, he's still trapped in there, thinking and seeing some shitty things, as far as we can tell." Tony suddenly felt frustrated all over again, unable to look at Steve any longer. "Unless we can whip up a miracle counter gas – which I am already working on, obviously – it's one big fucking waiting game."
Tony let his head drop into his hands, closing his eyes as he listened to Thor's reply.
"I feel that our Captain deserves the best yet receives the worst too often." The Prince eventually said into the growing silence. His speech was slow; thoughtful, and lined with a sadness Tony had not encountered in the god before.
"I worry for Steven a lot." Thor admitted quietly. "It seems like he is a –"
" – magnet for trouble? Yeah, tell me about it."
Tony and Thor looked up quickly, finding Bucky standing in the doorway. The soldier was looking cleaner, his hair tied in a messy bun.
Thor smiled, giving a laugh quietly.
"Yes – rather like my brother, actually." Thor gave a hum. "But without the stabbing. Or the trickery."
"How is he?" Bucky look a place opposite Thor, on Steve's right side. Tony watched, almost amused, as the soldier placed a hand on the Captain's forehead almost instinctively, tilting his face.
When he caught Tony and Thor watching, he rolled his eyes, though didn't stop his antics.
"Habit." was the only explanation offered.
Tony, with one last look at Steve, stood from his slouch with a wince. His bones popped as he stretched.
He needed to clean up. Properly clean up, not just stepping in a shower for a minute.
"I assume you're gonna hog Steve for the next few hours?" Tony asked Bucky, who nodded determinedly.
"I shall retire myself, for a while." Thor stood too, finally letting go of Steve's hand. He raked a hand through his knotted hair. "My mind is quite weary from the events we have shared, and I feel I should try and rest."
"Good idea." Tony agreed. Thor hadn't even cleaned up yet, and the billionaire wasn't about to stop him.
He himself would clean up, he supposed, then begin work on deconstructing the gas and it's components. He wasn't an expert in chemicals, and seriously hoped Steve would be out of the coma before he had chance to even begin creating a cure – but he couldn't be sure, and preferred to prepare for the worst. At least, it could be a help in the future.
"Anthony." Thor's voice cut into his inner ramblings, making him look up in surprise. The god was staring down at him softly, his eyes shining with undisguised concern. It felt like he was being x-rayed, which made him squirm guiltily like he was a child about to be told off.
"You need rest like the rest of us." Thor either ignored or was oblivious to his reaction, clamping a surprisingly gentle hand on his shoulder. "Do not push yourself beyond your limits in an attempt to fix the tragedy that has befallen on us today. I fear that you feel you are partly to blame, which is not true." The prince said quietly.
Damn Thor and his uncanny way of knowing exactly what everyone on his team were thinking – especially him. Tony huffed, folding his arms.
"I have the technology at the palm of my hand and I couldn't even locate him –" he began to explain, defensive, when Bucky interrupted.
"Not this bullshit again." Bucky turned to Thor. "I told him that his opinion was wrong, but apparently I didn't nail it into him enough."
The soldier looked back down at Steve, giving a huff of laughter. "I'm surprised that Steve hasn't woken up just to tell you off. He hates it when I blame myself for things too."
As if rehearsed, Steve shifted slightly, letting out a long sigh. Tony stared at him carefully, but the Captain still did not wake.
"Look." Bucky said, more quietly as he brushed loose hairs from Steve's face. "Go back to that fancy tower of yours, and only come back here when you stop thinking like an idiot."
Tony opened his mouth again to speak, but closed it again with a snap. It was really beginning to irritate him how the soldier could argue him into silence.
However, he found that a slight weight had been lifted from his lungs, making it a little easier to breathe. Still, he scowled at Bucky, pointing furiously at his chest.
"You're annoying. I liked you better when you hid behind Steve for a solid month." He finally retorted.
Bucky rolled his eyes, smile twitching on his lips. Thor, naturally, chuckled quietly.
"Fuck off, Stark. Go shower before you stink out the entire room." Bucky answered back. Thor pushed him towards the exit gently as he muttered angrily under his breath about how he did not stink that bad, he gave himself a good thirty seconds in the shower earlier –
Thor shut the door behind them, placing a hand on his shoulder once more.
"I shall return with you. I would like to rest at your tower, if that is alright." The prince asked. Tony couldn't help but roll his eyes, raising a brow.
"It's our tower, okay? You don't have to ask." He couldn't help but say. He looked up to find Thor practically beaming for the first time in over two weeks, slapping Tony on the back hard enough to make him stumble with a yelp.
"Then I shall prepare a feast of pop tarts to restore my energy before visiting our friend again!" The god had seemingly gained him more typical positive attitude, despite Steve's less-than-desired situation. Still, Tony couldn't help but give a small, exasperated smile.
"Just don't destroy the microwave again. I'm a billionaire, but the repair bill on those machines alone is getting ridiculous."
Bucky had been sitting Steve for a few hours when he first displayed signs of distress.
The doctor, Banner (who had insisted on being called Bruce, but Bucky didn't know whether he had earned that right yet) had warned them all of this eventually happening, as the hallucinogen was still in his system until his body was more stable. It made Bucky's skin crawl, and hoped he wouldn't have to see its effects ever again.
It was barely noticeable at first. Bucky – feeling more complete than he had done in a while, with Steve resting peacefully at his side – was dozing in his chair, as close to Steve's bed as possible. In his mind, memories were being pulled together from their fragmented pieces. He remembered Steve being sick far too many times, leading to situations similar to this one. Way too similar – Steve had a knack of getting himself in the worst places possible, making him have a heart attack every other week.
Bucky only looked at Steve when his breath hitched. The soldier quickly snapped his head up staring intently at his friend's delicate expression. It was then he saw a tear spill from his closed eyelid, running down his jaw and sinking into the pillow underneath him.
"Steve?" Bucky asked quietly. He reached out, running a thumb over the tear track. His skin was cold under his touch, making him frown.
"Can you hear me?" He murmured. Steve's heart rate picked up, but he gave no answer.
Following the first, more tears suddenly spilled from Steve's closed eyes, steadily growing in numbers. His friend's face stayed disturbingly lax, but they continued to fall with seemingly no end.
"Steve!" Bucky said, louder. Steve remained trapped in the influence of the hallucinogen, deaf to his words.
It was then, almost on instinct, Bucky began to slowly climb into the bed, kicking off his shoes. He was instantly reminded of his days in Brooklyn, where Steve was so sick he couldn't even tell what was real anymore. Bucky would climb into his bed, holding him tightly as he shivered, attempting to force his presence into Steve's jumbled mind.
He did the same as he had done all those years ago, carefully shifting Steve to the side to make room for them both. It was the closest Bucky has been to Steve ever since becoming the Winter Soldier; Steve's body felt like porcelain, and he was scared at what he would do.
He had killed with the very hands he was trying to soothe Steve with – the thought almost made him lurch out of the bed, but stopped himself at seeing tears continue to run down Steve's cheeks.
He trusts me, even now. Bucky thought, hesitating. Maybe I can trust myself, then.
Bucky let himself pull Steve close, until he was certain he could hear his heartbeat.
"It's okay, punk." Bucky said quietly. It was like they were kids again, sleeping under the stars of Brooklyn. "You gotta trust me."
After a few minutes, Steve began to relax, to Bucky's relief and surprise. Though he could still hear his heat beating too fast for his liking, the tears had thankfully stopped. Steve's expression was dauntingly lax, but the soldier would pick it any day over the one he had just experienced.
He wasn't willing to let go, not quite yet. Bucky relaxed his body, letting his head rest a few inches opposite Steve's.
He heard the door creek open, and opened an eye to see Sam standing in the doorway, raising a brow. He let out a small growl.
"Shut up." He warned, "Or I'll nail you to the door."