riverviewlogs | [open] gimme fuel, gimme fire

Entry tags:

[open] gimme fuel, gimme fire

who: Tony Stark and Open
what: Tony and his bots making themselves at home
when: September 4 - 30
where: Tony's workshop, shared housing, and anywhere in between
warnings: None yet

To the surprise of absolutely no one who knew him, once Tony's workshop was even moderately livable he essentially disappeared into it. He could occasionally be found heading back and forth towards where he (technically) slept, but that was mostly to grab something he'd forgotten or on the extremely rare occasions where he decided seeing actual daylight might be a good idea. Or someone else decided it for him, and was quite happy to hold his work hostage until he went along with it.

But being able to actually work, having his own private space to get things done, settled him in a way he couldn't articulate. A slight tension to his shoulders had loosened, something that would have been hard to notice until it was suddenly gone. Tony smiled a little easier, seemed much more pleased with himself with his hands covered in grease and soot.

With Dum-E and JARVIS there, the armor tucked into a corner like a watchful sentinel, it was almost like the best parts of the last few years. Sure the lack of his usual resources made it hard to forget that he wasn't exactly at home, but all said, Tony was about as settled as he was likely to get.

At least while dealing with everything else that got thrown at him, anyway.

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Bucky catches the look towards his shoulder and it's not exactly unwarranted, Stark is a genius and he's not wrong with the reason that Bucky has come to see him. Even so, he hesitates before shrugging his hoodie over his head and off, something about displaying any vulnerability before people he doesn't trust itches between his shoulder blades something fierce.

It's easy to see why he needs an engineer.

Several of the shoulder panels have buckled inwards to create a mess of blood and twisted vibranium alloy, even some bone poking through at the worst point from where his collarbone has splintered. His expression stays neutral, only a mild tightening around his eyes suggesting pain as he lifts the arm to about waist height.

"That's all the movement I have on it now, I need full articulation."

"Jesus christ." And just like that, it's like a switch has flipped. This is no longer someone he still isn't sure what to think about, not a complicated mess of bad memories and regrets. No, this is a problem to be solved.

Without hesitation, Tony stalks closer, eyes entirely on the wreck that is his arm. "What did you even do? No, nevermind, I don't want to know." One hand lifts to let his fingers ghost over the metal place, though he does at least glance briefly at Barnes to make sure the motion isn't going to get him punched or anything.

"You know I can't do much about the non-metal damage." Though if he was anything like Cap, it would probably fix itself once everything else was cleared up. Still probably hurt like a bitch.

Which, right. Probably the first thing to deal with, and Tony tapped gently at his metal wrist. "Can this be removed?"

Although there's a definite tension when Stark steps forward to touch the arm, it's not exactly unexpected and so he keeps himself still. He just hopes that when this gets further into repairs that he'll still be capable of keeping a lid on his many issues with being worked on.

"It's been removed before, but it's connected to the nerves so it was done with a doctor as well as engineers."

Not because they wanted to make sure he had been well cared for, there had never been anything unnecessary like anaesthetic, but because the Asset was too valuable to risk permanently damaging.

"Can you fix it?" No, probably the wrong question... "Will you fix it?"

And Tony definitely does not have a doctor handy. He shifts in a little more to stare at the wreck of metal and flesh for a long moment then lets out a long breath.

"I'll do what I can, yeah," he says, glancing briefly back at Barnes' face. For all their issues, he can't just leave the guy like this. He's not that much of an asshole. And it's probably karma or something.

"Come on." He begins gently trying to propel Barnes towards his desk chair as he cranes his head around. "Dum-E. Hey. Go grab me my tools."

The metal arm against the back wall suddenly shifts and then begins to move forward, the claw at the end of his arm dipping towards the worktable. Tony ignores him. This is not something the bot can screw up.

"Thank you," he murmurs quietly, but heartfelt. He doesn't express gratitude much, especially not to someone who's more often than not an enemy, but it's warranted here.

Even though he tenses up further with each step that takes him deeper into Stark's workshop and to be sat on one of the chairs, he doesn't think about bolting. Not until that robotic arm moves out of nowhere and sends him skittering back against one of the opposite walls.

He feels like an idiot as soon as he's moved, it's obviously just a robot of Stark's invention, but it startled him and he doesn't like the idea of these machines around him, possibly helping, it's too much like the reconditioning chamber.

"The hell is that thing?"

Tony's head shoots up, one eyebrow climbing towards his hairline as Barnes practically levitates away. For a second, he can't figure out what the issue is, until he follows Barnes' line of sight back over to where Dum-E is scooting around the worktable. The bot's been with him long enough that it barely even registers on Tony anymore that an independently-moving hunk of metal might be kind of unsettling.

"That's just Dum-E," Tony says as he glances back at Barnes, his tone as even and calm as he can make it. "He's an assistant. Helper bot. Won't hurt you. Unless you try to drink a smoothie he's made, which I do not recommend. I have not yet managed to get across to him that humans don't process motor oil well."

He might be babbling a little. But Tony's never been the best at trying to reassure anyone, let alone someone with as many issues as Barnes has. He doesn't even know where to begin with that. But Barnes is here and still needs help and Tony is trying? At least as much as he can.

It's so strange to register, at least on some level, that Stark is trying to put him at ease. They should be deadly enemies with all that's happened, but somehow they've got to this strange point and Bucky doesn't know what to make of it. He knows he feels foolish as hell for freaking out about what's apparently nothing more than a motorised fetch-and-carry thing, but-- it just looks unsettling with what he's been through in the past.

He forces himself to move back towards the chair and sit down, though his eyes track every movement DUM-E makes in the background.

"Is it strong enough to restrain me?"

Not because he wants it, but because it might be necessary in order to keep him from freaking out and attacking Stark when they get into it.

"Probably...not?" Tony's eyebrows lift a little at the question. Sure, Dum-E's pure metal, but he's not exactly built for playing tug of war against a super soldier. And he'd be very displeased if the poor bot ended up getting mangled in the process.

Himself, he's a bit less concerned about.

The look he shoots Barnes is a bit knowing as he holds his hand out for Dum-E to deposit a couple of tools into it. He even manages not to drop any of them, and Tony pats the arm almost fondly, clearly without thinking.

"The armor will, though. If you want me to have it on standby."

It's strange that Tony understands so quickly and is willing to go along with him, when people that he might say he trusts more wouldn't. They'd insist that he could be strong enough not to fight, or reassure him that they trusted he wasn't that man any more. He appreciates this, it makes him feel more secure than the other would.

"Yeah, it's for the best."

He flexes what he can of the fingers on his left hand, only three of them actually moving and those in tiny jerking motions.

"I've only ever had my arm worked on by HYDRA technicians, I can't promise this will go well."

Tony gives him another searching look, then twists enough to lay all of his gear out on the table next to him. In part to give Barnes a chance to settle and in part to get his own thoughts together. This has every chance that it could turn into an utter mess. But. He can't just leave the guy like this, and his eyes flick briefly over to glance at the damage before Tony straightens again.

"Guard," he says somewhat inexplicably, though it might make more sense as the armor's eyes suddenly flare on. The entire suit takes a step forward on it's own, then continues pacing closer until it comes to stand at attention on Barnes' other side. It may not be needed and might not actually help even if it is, but Tony won't deny that having it there does make him feel a little better.

"Okay," he says on a slow exhale as he tugs a stool over with his foot and drops onto it. "If you feel like you're going to hit me, aim away from the face. There's no point in living if I can't be beautiful."

He appreciates that Stark isn't arguing with him on this, it makes it easier to accept the help. He's still nervous as all hell, but the presence of something that he can't actually hurt but which might be able to stop him from hurting anyone else is a major plus. He's not afraid of the pain, he's endured much worse than what this will be, he's just scared of the memories it might bring up.

"You've managed this long."

The words slip out without him even thinking about them. It's how it tends to happen, in times of stress there'll be pieces of either Bucky or the Soldier that escape, at least this time it was the snarking humour of who he used to be, who he still is sometimes.

"Tell me what you're doing, keep talking, might help."

"People Magazine would disagree with you," Tony shoots back cheerfully as he gently takes hold of Barnes' metal wrist and adjusts his arm until it's in a good position. And if he just keeps hold of him for a second or so to make sure Barnes' isn't going to immediately lash out, that's just him being careful.

But talking? That, he can do.

He immediately launches into a monologue as he starts moving the damaged plates, shifting them to get at the wiring underneath. And he does describe what he's doing, it just happens to be peppered with random observations about the technology, increasingly outlandish and creative guesses as to how exactly Barnes managed to injure himself in the first place, and suggestions for much less damaging hobbies. Maybe knitting.

Perhaps he could see how the incessant chatter would be annoying in other circumstances, but it really does help here. It gives him something to focus on which isn't the pain or the sensation of being worked on, something that's so alien from anything that happened whenever he needed maintenance from HYDRA. Not that he joins in, offering no remarks on the varying theories as to how he injured himself, he just listens intently.

He has to admit that he's impressed. There's not a lot of engineers could work on this arm, and then there's the added complication of blood making everything obscured and slippery, but Stark seems to be managing almost with ease.

He lasts a good long while, but eventually even the endless monologue begins to fade into a dull buzz at the back of his head, and all that fills his senses is pain and fear. Depending how observant Tony is, he might notice that Bucky has gone abnormally still, barely even breathing, eyes fixed on the middle distance.

Not that he's been expecting responses to his endless babbling, but when it occurs to Tony that he hasn't had to ask Barnes not to move in a while, he glances up to make sure the guy hasn't fallen asleep or anything. And he hasn't, but he also...isn't there, in a way that makes the hair on the back of Tony's neck stand up a little. It's unnatural. And creepy as hell.

He slowly straightens, though he does have to concentrate to make his hands move away. He's getting good work done, and pausing in the middle of it just feels wrong.

"Barnes? You with me?"

He feels the tugging on his arm, always an odd sensation for it not being his actual arm, stop and his head cants ever so slightly to look up at the man next to him. Not with any real recognition, his eyes are still blank and it's like Bucky has checked out and left nobody home.

When his reply comes, it's in Russian. It's not a conscious choice, but sometimes Russian feels more like his mother tongue than English.

"Is the maintenance done?"

Oookay, Tony may not speak Russian, but he can recognize enough of it to realize that this is definitely a bad sign. He backs up a little more out of range, careful to keep his hands where Barnes can see them.

"J?"

"He wishes to know if the maintenance is complete."

Ah. "Nyet," Tony says carefully. He knows that one at least, since he's not sure how much English Barnes is actually processing at the moment. He makes no movement back towards the arm, though.

It's not even that he's particularly worried about himself, as dangerous as Barnes might be right now. The armor's still standing by, even as Tony resists the urge to glance over towards it. Tony's not enough of an asshole to just ignore the fact that the guy's been triggered into a flashback.

This whole scene felt so weird, disjointed and surreal. It was half an underground facility and half a workshop that was unfamiliar to him, but in both he was on a chair being worked on, and he hated it. Hated the invasive nature of the procedures and not getting a say in what huge chunks of metal were being grafted to his skeleton.

Except he did have a choice this time, didn't he? He'd asked for this to be done, asked for help, from-- Stark?

"Howard?"

No. Wrong Stark. Was it?

It makes him freeze for just a second before Tony forces himself back into motion. His body language is almost too casual, but it's better than the alternative.

"No. Tony. You back with me, Bucky?"

The nickname feels odd in his mouth, but somehow it feels like a better idea. Distance is not going to help right now, not when Barnes only seems to have the vaguest idea of who he is.

Tony. That was right, this was Tony Stark, Howard's son. He had come here to get help, not because he's being forced into it, and now he's ruining things all over again. He at least manages to get control of himself enough to know how dangerous he could be right now, walking the razor's edge.

"Yeah." Sort of. "How much is there left to do?"

If there's more than an hour of repairs left, then he might just have to give it up and run, he doesn't know if he could hold on for much longer without doing something that he'd really regret later.

"Not too much." There's more he could do, it's a serious mess in there and it's offending Tony's engineering sensibilities, but he can also tell that they're walking a dangerous line here. Most of the immediate damage has been fixed, at least enough for the arm to be useable and for Barnes to probably be able to heal the physical part with nothing jamming into him.

But he still doesn't move for a moment, just watching him. Something almost considering creeps into his expression and his eyes dart rapidly towards the armor, still standing at attention next to them.

"You need something to hold on to?" He says it a little wryly, but the offer is genuine. Not that he actually thinks Barnes wants a hand to hold, but something that might stop him from lashing out might make things easier. Or worse. Hard to tell.

"I just don't want to hurt you."

The admission is quiet and raw in a way he very rarely allows to show through the carefully maintained neutral expression, but he's throwing all of his energy into keeping himself present in this room and he doesn't have any left for pretending that this isn't scaring him deeply. His eyes flick up to look at Stark directly, and for once they're pleading and desperate, a tiny show of just how much he doesn't want more blood on his hands and how much it kills him to have it there already.

"If that means stopping now because you've done enough to make it work, then stop. If it means restraints to get to that point, do it. I don't care."

He studies Barnes in silence for a second or so before Tony's eyes dart quickly to the side, towards the armor. And the armor, in turn, shifts forward to drop one hand onto Barnes' uninjured shoulder. Not restraining yet, but something that could be. And can react much quicker than Tony ever could.

He's not going to give empty platitudes about how Barnes won't hurt him. They both know just how easily he could, even without meaning to.

"Would it help to be able to see what I'm doing?" Tony asks suddenly, then blinks once like he's surprised himself with it. His mouth has gotten out ahead of his brain again, but it's honestly not a bad idea. "Or, I don't know, cartoons or something."

Stark is going up in his estimation every time he doesn't waste precious time in denying that Bucky could be a threat, every time he just deals with it. It makes it easier to stay, even if the feel of a metal hand on his shoulder sends his heartrate speeding up again.

"Yeah."

He sounds surprised, eyebrows raising.

"You can do that? Show me what you're doing as you're doing it?"

"Sure," Tony says after just the briefest moment of hesitation, followed by, "J?"

A glowing square flickers into view, set right at Barnes' eye line and showing what must be the view from over Tony's shoulder. The metal arm still laid open, but most of the obvious damage has been straightened. As if to prove the point, Tony waggles his fingers and glances back to watch them move the same way in the display.

"Does that work?"

"That's amazing."

Just for the briefest time, Bucky isn't a terrified man undergoing a painful procedure, he'a a guy witnessing technology that he's never seen before. He shifts just slightly so that he can make sure he sees the same thing on the screen, before he settles back again.

"I guess you really are a genius."

[open] gimme fuel, gimme fire

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