worthallthis | Apocalypse How: IC Inbox

Asset. Weapon. Soldier.

Friend ?

[Maybe a bad way to broach this particular topic. But he's pressed for time.

The phone, if it's ever traced,
belonged once to William H. Mendez-- police rounded him up some weeks ago as a part of a drug bust. Shame he'd left his burner number behind in his panic.]

How Far Will You Go To Protect Them ?

[There's a lot of time spent frowning at this before coming up with a response. It's a very basic response.]

i do not have friends

who are you

[Can't be friends with people, but if somebody needs backup, he's usually willing. He just needs to know who.]

I'm Not Convinced.

There Would Be 2 3, 4 People Potentially Involved.

[--is he counting Yelena? Should he be counting Yelena? God, he has no freaking idea. (An anthem.)]

You Care About Them, Buck.

[This time the response is quick. Four separate texts, one word each, in immediate succession:]

my
name
is
winter

[He didn't even realize he felt so strongly about it being a name now and not just something for civilians to call him... but apparently he does.]

[Hit a nerve there, huh. Not that it matters but: sorry, big guy.]

Does It Come Easy For You To Neutralize Identified Threats, Winter? I Won't Ask About Unidentified Ones For Obvious Reasons.

[There's a lot of nerves to hit, really. He's mollified by the correction. Mostly. He's still kind of grouchy about this whole thing. He's not fond of communication that is recorded like this.

But it's a simple enough question.]

yes it is what i am made for

[Identity issues, much? Heard.]

You Seemed Like One Of The Better Choices For The Act Than One Of The Aforementioned 3, 4 People In The Web.

I'll Trust You.

[Very much. He stares in mild consternation at the text for a few minutes before trying again:]

who are you and what do you want exactly

I Want Everyone To Stay Safe.

[Well that's a goal Winter can get behind. And for the most part, he doesn't care a lot about methods.

But this stranger still hasn't said who he is, and that is suspect.]

how do you want that to happen

How’s it going T-800

It’s me Tony. That guy you almost TKO’d with a bodice ripper, remember?

Just wanted to know how the whole re-humaning thing was going

And to see if that arm of yours needs some 5w-30, on the house. Offer’s on the table

Text me back if you want. No rush. Or just leave me on read it’s no skin off my back either way really

[ Ok Tony that’s good, stop now before you crash and burn. ]

[It takes Winter a long few minutes to reply. He's remembered, since they last spoke. He knows what he did. Who Tony really is, in the end.

He knows Tony has been... kind, though. And his arm could definitely stand someone looking at it who isn't him with his imperfect understanding of how it works and how to fix it. If he thinks he can keep from punching someone who touches it.

Maybe Tony should be the one to do it, in the end, though. If Tony decided to use maintenance to hurt him, it would be deserved. That knowledge might make him able to hold still during an examination.

So, finally:]

ok

where are you

Edited (typo) 2022-06-21 04:31 (UTC)

[ Tony sets his phone down immediately after texting to continue what he's working on, but catches himself looking over at it once or twice despite himself. Distantly he wonders if the guy even knows how to do the text message thing and whether he should kick himself for not confirming that beforehand, but then the resounding ping of Winter's reply rings out and has Tony very nearly taking off his own finger with an X-ACTO blade.

Recovering quickly, Tony grabs his phone to reply. He starts to type out the address of his apartment then hesitates, Lady Anxiety reminding him kindly that he's alone right now and may not be able to take Winter on should the guy go bonkers and try to kill him. Then he remembers how much like GrumpyCat the guy looked when he'd been pouting over romance novels and rolls his eyes at his own worry, smirking and sending out the address after all.

Even if things do go south for whatever reason, Tony has a veritable arsenal at his disposal of makeshift weapons that he has designed to use in lieu of his suit in the event of such an occasion. But somehow, with almost total certainty, Tony doesn't think he'll need them.

Better flirt, though. Just to test the waters. ]

Come and get it tiger

[The flirt does go right over his head, sadly, but it doesn't actually matter a whole lot, because Winter doesn't bother replying. He just shows knocks on Tony's door, a few minutes later, because Tony's apartment isn't that from his own.

He doesn't look murderous. He looks, if anything, kind of nervous, eyes down and hands, metal and flesh both, shoved down in his pockets.]

Hi.

[ That's okay, Bucky. Tony doesn't flirt to get a reaction like...90% of the time. He does it because it's reflex at this point. Like how you almost kick the doctor when he hits your knee with the little hammer thingy.

Er, anyway. You and Tony both, buddy! Though with Tony it's not so much nervousness as his constant, ever-present state of near-unbearable anxiety becoming slightly more elevated than normal. He does his usual thing and completely barrels through it, though, opening the door to let Winter in. ]

Howdy, Gunslinger. Aren't you prompt. Come on in, I'll make coffee. [ With that Tony immediately steps away to the kitchenette, calling out as he flees. ] Try not to bump into anything.

[ As he is left standing near the doorway, it ought to become immediately apparent to Winter that, should he choose to continue avoiding direct eye contact with Tony, there's plenty else in the apartment to occupy his gaze. It's a bit less chaotic now than it had been when he'd first established it, but Tony's makeshift workshop still swallows up a good portion of the apartment and is full of interesting knickknacks to observe. Just observe, though: ]

I don't have to tell you not to touch anything, right? [ Tony is still bustling around making coffee, speaking loudly so he can be heard. ] Can't imagine you wanna risk losing Righty, too.

I've been in here before, Tony. I made Jaeger tea few times while he was recovering.

[And he moves easily between things without touching them, looking for wherever he's supposed to be. There need to be Jaeger-sized paths in here, and Jaeger's even bigger than Winter is, so he's not too concerned, and it's easy to keep his hands to himself. They stay in his pockets, in fact, shoulders a little hunched.

He kind of hovers by the edge of the kitchen, where the fewest bits of Tony-mess are strewn, and watches Tony bustle around. He's not sure if he should apologize or not. Did the... other him? Apologize? Would that make things better or worse?

He finally says, haltingly,]

I remembered. Your. Howard.

[He swallows, and says in a very small voice,]

I'm sorry.

[ As soon as Winter drops 'Howard' the mug Tony is holding parts ways with his hands, hits the floor with a crash and shatters into a million pieces. Another one bites the dust apparently, but Tony barely acknowledges it. Maybe he has yet to shake his habit of giving nary a fuck when something breaks, as he's used to being able to replace it immediately, or maybe he's just too taken aback to care by the hard left turn the conversation just took from introductory pleasantries to the subject of his parents' fucking murder.

It's probably both. Mostly the second one, though.

Unfortunately, the sound of breaking ceramic blocks Tony's ears to whatever else Winter says. Tony knows he hears him say something, though... So he takes a deep breath and a couple steps back from the mess of shards around his bare feet, until his lower back hits the counter and he can reach back to grip its edges and ground himself ]

What was that? What you said just now, didn't catch it. [ He doesn't look at Winter when he speaks, opting instead to stare at the broken mug on the floor. ] Speak up.

[Winter doesn't look at Tony, either. He flinches badly at the sound of breaking glass, taking a full step back. Towards the door. But then he stops and steels himself. Tony's been kind to him, even though he knew. Even if Winter doesn't want punishment, Tony would be within his rights to dole it out.

He swallows hard, and says again,]

I'm sorry.

[Then he finds himself adding,]

You've been. Kind to me. You knew, but you were kind anyway. You didn't have to be.

[ Tony is almost perfectly still but for the way his knuckles pull taut as he grips the counter, and almost perfectly silent but for the way he breathes unnaturally slowly to pre-emptively stave off any panic. It's unfortunate that he can't quite find the verbiage to explain to Winter (to Barnes) that this reaction isn't anger, or actually a reaction at all, but a self-grounding mechanism to slap down his own nervous system when it attempts to go rogue on him. It's similar to the way he'd had a handle on things in Siberia, measuring his breaths via a tiny counter in his suit interface, up until the tape had rolled.

Thankfully he doesn't really need to explain anything in the end, as Barnes actually says a few additional words after he repeats himself as requested, filling that extra bit of space that Tony needs to make sure he won't start gasping for breath as soon as he opens his mouth. They're nice words, too. Gentle, earnest. Tony loosens his grip on the counter, just a little. ]

First off. [ Tony's voice sounds nice and steady to his own ears, so he finally looks up from the floor and lifts his shoulders a little, gaining confidence. ] You're still working on becoming a Real Boy again, right? You know what'll go a long way? Not springing a highly distressing subject on somebody as soon as you walk through their goddamn door. Give it like, ten minutes. Or at least make sure they aren't holding something breakable.

[ God, why did Barnes have to remember? This was way easier when Tony didn't have to talk about it. He takes another steadying breath, standing up straight at last, and lets his head fall back as he exhales. Eyes closed. Counter solid against his back. ]

And it's...fine. I mean-- no, it's not fine, there's never any way it can be fine, but... [ Breathe. ] It wasn't your fault. I'm not, I feel like... I can't hate a guy who didn't know what the hell he was doing. I don't know what kind of person I'd be if I did hate you, if he'd be good or bad or...justified, or whatever, but...

[ Breathe. ] ...I know I wouldn't like him. That guy.

[ Okay. It's all out. Nothing exploded and no one is dead. Tony's eyes open slowly, and then he finally looks at Barnes. ]

You gonna come here and help me clean this up? It's your fault I broke it.

[Not holding something breakable. Check. Winter's not sure he could've waited much longer without exploding or melting into a puddle or fleeing, but he could have waited until Tony wasn't holding anything, at least. Sure.

He still looks kind of terrified, like he expects Tony to explode himself, like he's not sure all those words to say "I'm not mad at you" aren't talking around a truth that actually says "I am mad at you", but he inches closer.]

Of course. I can clean it up. I can't cut myself on the pieces.

[The metal hand can't, anyway.]

[ It's kind of funny how not scared Tony is right now, particularly in comparison to the way Barnes is acting, which isn't dissimilar to how someone might behave when sharing space with a particularly dangerous predatory animal. It might have made sense for him to be so spooked if Tony were wearing his suit, perhaps; he did lop the guy's arm off last time he'd seen him armored up, after all. But nope, no suit, Tony's just wearing sweats and one of Jaeger's shirts that's so comically huge on Tony it makes him appear even less threatening in comparison to Bucky, who looks like a fucking GI Joe even in his civvies.

But Christ, the guy looks liable to bolt if Tony so much as sneezes loudly. It's frankly pitiful, and Tony almost offers him a Xanax...until he remembers he has to pay for those now. So instead he slowly steps away from the shattered pile of ceramic, putting a little more distance between him and Barnes than what is strictly necessary as he nods his thanks. ]

Thanks. I mean, I'm gonna go grab a broom and dustpan, but don't let me stop you getting a head start.

You, uh...still want coffee?

Coffee is great. If you're still making it.

[A ruined cup doesn't mean the whole pot is ruined, he knows. And coffee will be comforting, and be something to hold onto while Tony works, if Tony is still going to work. His brain is still trying to go in little circles of "angry technician equals punishment" and "maintenance equals pain" and even "I made a kind person upset which is bad", but a task helps.

Winter sinks to a crouch over the shattered mug and starts plucking up the bigger pieces, the ones that would be harder to get into a dustpan, setting them on the metal palm to cart to the trash.]

It works on me now. Coffee. It didn't used to.

[ Tony wrings every drop out of those few seconds of increased distance that he can, doing a box-breath and counting things around the room and running through every other stupid trick he's learned to quickly calm anxiety short of that one where he sticks his head under a faucet. He wants to do that one, though. Maybe later. ]

Yeah, I heard from, uh. Your buddy.

[ Just say 'Steve', Tony. Look, if this situation gets any more awkward and uncomfortable Tony might actually literally scream, so...fuck you. Vague allusions it is.

After some rummaging he at last returns with the broom and dustpan, passing them along briskly before he flits over to the coffee machine to finish what he was fucking doing. Before Barnes came in and started acting all...Barnes. God, does Tony know anyone normal? ]

So you figured out your preference yet? Cream? Sugar? Black with a side of hard tack for old timey's sake?

[Sure you do, Tony. Just probably not the ones from your world. They're definitely all weirdos.

He does sound a little less awkward, himself, though, as he answers the question while he sweeps up the last of the shards. Thank goodness there wasn't any coffee in that mug yet.]

With cocoa in it if I can get it. Cream and sugar is okay if there's none of that.

[That's right, Bucky Barnes has discovered mochas and he loves them. He pauses, climbing to his feet, and adds,]

Hard tack is disgusting, though. There's a lot of much better foods around here.

Oh look at Mr. Fancy Pants Starbucks Order over here. [ Tony manages a snort of laughter at that, because it's unexpected and that's funny. ] Sorry, all's I got is Half & Half and a buttload of sugar, that okay by you, High Roller?

[ Ok, coffee time. First Tony sets about fixing a cup for Barnes with all the accoutrements, handling it with care, and then he serves himself. Which just means he fills a mug with straight coffee, downs it in almost a single gulp, then fills it again. He's halfway through the second cup when he turns to Barnes, handing him his mug once the guy's done sweeping. ]

You can set the broom wherever. [ Don't hand him things. Tony does hand over the cup, though. ] Here's your joe. Don't expect a whole lot, it's just Folgers. And I was kidding about the hard tack.

[ Mental note, go easy on the sarcasm with this guy. And the flirting. ]

You asked. I'll take what you have, it's fine. I don't expect most people to have cocoa to add to their coffee.

[He returns the broom to where Tony got it from, because of course he was paying attention to that, and dumps the shards of mug into the trash before accepting the coffee.

He holds it with both hands a moment, as if taking in the warmth of it. Though the metal one doesn't really read heat the same way as the flesh one, so it's a familiar comparison of data in his brain.]

Even the instant stuff here. Is better than some coffee I've had. It smells good, either way. Thank you.

Winter, my friend. Do you have a moment to speak?

[This is unusual. People don't contact him much. Also it's usually text when they do so it takes him a moment to get up enough voice to reply.]

I can meet you somewhere. Sure.

Only if you have the time. I'd be happy to buy you lunch or a coffee.

I always have time. And I love coffee.

[Also he hates actually talking over this thing. In person is much better.]

Pick a place.

The coffee shop on third. I will be buying.

[Winter won't protest. He is, after all, unemployed and all. Saving money by having your friends buy your coffee is only practical.

He shows up within ten minutes, bundled in a layers of coat, jacket, and hoodie, thankfully sans antlers now. If he's early, he waits outside, leaning on the nearest lamp post.]

[Rue arrives only a few moments after him, coming up right to his side and resting a glamoured paw to his back.]

Thank you for meeting me, darling. Let us get inside. It is beginning to get chilly out, isn't it?

[He very carefully does not flinch from the touch, and then finds-- it's actually not that hard. He's been a ghost around his own house lately, and everyone has been very careful not to touch him when he doesn't initiate it, but Rue doesn't know that. So they just did. And it's not too bad.]

Course I'd meet you.

[He lets them guide him towards the door, but then shakes himself and steps ahead to open the door for them.]

Everything okay?

[what a gentleman. they never emote very well in this glamoured face, but rue offers winter a gentle, small smile at how he moves to open the door for them.]

Yes and no. [a brief pause, before Rue finishes the thought.] My husband has returned to this place.

[He nods. He'd seen the message on the network about it. He gets them both in line for their coffee.]

That going okay?

[He doesn't need to beat the man for being awful to Rue, does he? He will if he has to.]

[Rue is close enough that even if their glamoured form does not look like it's touching, their wing is brushing up against the man's side.]

He does not remember being here previously. None of the trials we went through, none of the good or bad times. Not even our wedding. I do not mean to complain, because of course I am so grateful he is returned to me in any capacity, but it is just a touch difficult.

[Winter considers this a moment. Then he half-turns to look them in the face and, expression very bland, he offers,]

I could punch him for you. Maybe knock the memories loose.

[He is (mostly) not serious. This is, in fact, one of his first attempts at a joke since the tiny town. Rue might recall his usual delivery for jokes is deadpan, or they might not.

But he will do it if they say he should, joke or not.]

[It's almost comical how immediately that brings the owlbear to laughter, their glamoured-green skin flushing dark with mirth, a touch of their usual warmth back in their expression.

Still, they believe completely that he'll do exactly that if they ask.]

I know you would, but I do not know if there's anything left to knock loose. [It feels like such a silly thing to say standing in line at fucking Starbucks, but Rue sighs gently and smiles at Winter.]

I love him. If we must start over, then I would do it a hundred times over to be with him. I think I am just stuck on something else, that is not helping me let go.

[Winter pauses in their conversation to make his order-- Rue's too, if he's familiar with their usual order-- and to let them pay. Then while they wait, he picks it up again.]

He doesn't even remember he loves you?

[That's. Sad, actually. And uncomfortable. Because he knows Stevie probably felt something like that, seeing him attacking him on the helicarrier that day. Feels like a decade ago, but it was only a couple years, now.]

[Rue is all too happy to step in and pay, before they can both pick up their drinks and find a table near the back. Something with sturdy chairs.]

No, no. Forgive me. I am not quite that unlucky. He remembers up to the moment before we arrived here, so it was after our engagement. It is only our journey here he does not remember. Which is, well, I realize is such a minor complaint in the end.

[Well, that's not quite as sad as it could be. Winter won't feel quite so bad for them. Still bad, but not quite so bad.]

Still not fun. And it's upsetting you. So still important.

It is.

[A gentle pause, holding their mug between their glamoured hands.]

I do not wish to touch on uncomfortable subjects, so you must tell me off if I have stepped over a line, but you lost your memory of Rogers, did you not?

[Winter nods.]

Of everything. Not just him. But yes.

[He tries to arrange his face into something apologetic, but expressions are still a little hard, so he's not sure he gets it right.]

I haven't got much back. He might not get anything.

[It is the harsh reality of losing one's memory, but it is what Rue was expecting to hear. It doesn't stop their shoulders from drooping a touch.]

I thought as much.

Did it make it difficult? Being with others who held so many memories of you that you did not know?

[Winter considers this a moment, having a sip of his fancy coffee.]

Sometimes. Worse with certain people. Before you got here, there were more people who knew me. They were worse. Belova and Rogers... aren't bad. Belova was always easy. She only knew-- this.

[He gestures vaguely at himself, meaning his more-Asset-like personage.]

And Rogers got better about it.

[Rue listens quietly, not daring to interrupt, just slowly sipping their own drink.]

Do you wish you hadn't been told what you were missing? Would it have been better not to know?

[Winter shakes his head.]

Mostly, no one did tell me. Only when I asked. Strange and Wanda tried a little, and I hated it then, but when I ask. Then it's okay.

[He hesitates, then adds,]

Might not hate it so much now. I'm. I'm me, now. I wasn't me, then. Your guy. He's still him.

[Try as they might to keep their composure, Rue sniffs, blinking back tears. But they nod, hearing his every word and taking it straight to heart.]

Thank you, Winter. That is all that I needed to hear. And I so appreciate you sharing so much with me.

[Winter hesitates again, then gives their shoulder a little, careful pat.]

Best to ask him that, though. He is still him, but maybe a different him. Me, there's a chance I'll remember if someone tells me something. Him, maybe not. And he might think different than me about it.

[Oh, that's enough to drag an uneasy chuckle out of the owlbear, but they smile across the table at Winter either way.]

You are right. I am here talking to you about him instead of speaking to him directly. I think I must be frightened to, but that is ridiculous. Knickolas and I have always thrived when we communicated. It is only when we hold back that things turn wrong.

I should speak with him.

He still loves you.

[That Rue seems certain of. So:]

He'll understand. Even if you're scared. Probably even hug you about it.

[A pause.]

If he does hugs. He should do hugs. You give the best hugs.

[Winter better be prepared for the soft, warm look Rue shoots him across the table.]

You realize the moment we are out of this establishment, you are going to be very fiercely hugged, don't you?

[Winter sighs, but it's an exaggerated sigh, as he is attempting another joke.]

I will endure.

[It might even be nice. Rue even in their illusion shape is not as frightening as someone fully human. Though the fluff is nicer. And nobody has really touched him much since he got back from the tiny town-- which is his own fault, he'd readily admit. It's still a thing, though.]

[Rue picks up the joke immediately, their expression brightening.]

I know a simple hug will not end you, but I commend you for your immense bravery. Now, let us turn the conversation to something happier.

[And Rue will keep Winter there just to enjoy his company, as long as they can.]

Apocalypse How: IC Inbox

text, unknown number. Dec 11

text, an hour later

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text ⌬ @stark;

text UN Soldier

Totally lost this tag, I apologize for the lateness!

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voice, un:rue

Re: voice, un:rue

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