justakidfrombrklyn | At the door of Stark Tower

"Yeah," Tony replies after a moment for his brain to parse English again. "Yeah, I'm getting it. Fuck. They seriously fucked him up, Steve. Big time." He shakes his head, and resists the urge to pour himself a third drink, even though he thinks he deserves it for wading through the Winter Soldier file.

"Trust me, I've seen it first hand."

Which is probably the worst thing he's ever experienced in his entire life.

"Yeah, I watch the news," Tony replies. "I can't believe that guy-- Well, no, I can believe that that guy was your friend, unfortunately." He pauses a moment taps the of his glass, and still resists pouring himself another drink.

"You mind if I get this scanned, and share it with Bruce?" he asks, tapping the open file.

"Don't spread it too far," he says, though he's wincing because he doesn't want to impede them if they can find a way to help his-- to help Bucky.

"Nat had to call in a few favors to get it for me and I don't want her getting in trouble."

"It won't leave my private server," Tony promises. He shuts the folder, because wow, as interesting as that is, it really is fucking horrible, and. Yeah. There's kind of been a lot of horrible going around, it seems. If he didn't know better--

Wait. I don't know better. And it's only paranoia if they're not actually out to get you. And Tony knows better; he's had way too many people out to get him not to. He frowns a little, and pours himself that third drink.

Steve's actually on his fourth, because he doesn't want to savor this. He just wants the warm buzzy fuzziness to keep coming and he knows it'll burn out otherwise.

"Thank you. For everything."

"Thank me when we've fixed your friend," Tony replies, but smiles anyway, a little softer than his usual manic grin or smug smirk.

And yeah, that's Tony throwing in with Steve, because Steve's good people, and what he knows of Bucky paints him as good people too, and, well. The bad guys fucked him up bad, and maybe Tony knows something about that kind of thing himself.

"And that is a when, not an if, 'cause now you've got the smartest guys on the planet on your team."

"I consider it personal growth for you that Bruce is now included in that statement," he says, sucking down a little more.

"You two are close. It's good. Bucky and I were close like that. I don't even know if I can tell you about it. It's like... telling you about breathing."

Tony pulls a face at Steve, but ends up grinning after a moment.

"That's what Pepper said, too. 'Personal growth.'" He shakes his head a little, but it's affectionate.

He glances up at Tony.

"It looks good on you," he says without an inch of sarcasm. It's a genuine compliment.

Tony narrows his eyes a little.

"Have you been talking to Pepper and Bruce? Is this all just some grand conspiracy to make me into a better person?"

Not that he isn't mostly teasing, but he's met his friends, and he wouldn't put it past them. Bruce would think it's funny.

"I'm a little full up on massive conspiracies right now. But I'll get back to you on that."

That's another long sip. It tastes terrible but it's actually hitting him. Of course, he only just now notices he's drinking out of the beaker and not the glass...

Luckily, Tony has another beaker, this one labeled with red sharpie, in his own handwriting.

"This one's a little weaker, but it has kind of a burnt sugar aftertaste."

What do you mean 'did he try it?' Of course he tried it. Every single batch.

He takes the next beaker.

"This is not a good idea."

But he needs to indulge in a bad idea or two, because he's not sure what else to do. Good ideas just seemed to continue the same old feelings, the duty and the honor and honestly, he's not sure where 'happy' works into any of that but he doesn't think he's going to figure it out any time soon. Except--

"It keeps going through my head, you know."

"Shut up, it's a brilliant idea, and you know it." Not that that didn't mean it wasn't also a terrible idea, but that seldom stops Tony.

"...what does?" he asks after a moment.

If he was sober, the words would never pass his lips for any number of reasons. Mostly because it was about Bucky as much as it was about him. A little because a gentleman doesn't--

"That I never kissed him. I thought... I thought as soon as we're off this train, I'll be so happy I--"

But they never got off the train. At least not together.

Oh. Oh. Well, that certainly explains a few things, and bits of data in Tony's mental folder on Steve get slightly reshuffled.

"You'll get that chance," Tony replies quietly. "Okay? I get it. But, look; he's alive, and that means there's hope, and somehow I doubt you'll ever give up hope."

He shakes his head and lets himself lean on his own arms on the counter.

"Never. I'm with him till the end of the line. If he kills me..."

The words aren't said, but they're understood. If the Winter Soldier kills Captain America, Steve will let it happen and go peacefully for all that.

Steve hasn't let his guard down this long in a long long time.

"Not gonna happen," Tony interjects. "...but on the outside chance it does, I'll still take a shot at fixing him, because... because nobody deserves to have that shit done to 'em."

He looks up at Tony at that interjection. He doesn't say it anything, but it's clear he's wondering how Tony knows that.

Then again, Tony hasn't been inside his head.

Tony's had his own share of traumatic experiences, thanks. But yeah, he reads that look.

"There a problem, Cap?"

"No, Tony, I don't suppose there is," and he straightens up a little before running a hand through his hair.

"I'm not sure this stuff is safe."

He taps the beaker.

Tony grins at him again.

"It's not. Not for most people, anyway, it's for super-soldiers, space Vikings, and serious alcoholics only."

"For me," he says, and he pushes away the beaker. It's obvious he's trying to sober up.

"I'm--"

He doesn't know what he's being. Inappropriate? Relying on Tony for things that their acquaintanceship doesn't exactly provide for? Letting loose?

He feels like he's been Captain America for all seventy years, even though he knows it's only been five or so for him. Guilt is already starting to sink in.

Tony pushes it back to him.

"You're just fine. Look, I'll even promise not to give you more than a little shit for anything you say. Sometimes, you just need to get it out, and I may be the closest you're going to get to a sympathetic ear."

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