Whumptober Day 24 - Secret Injury; 25 - Humiliation; 26 - Abandoned

Whumptober day 24 - Secret Injury; 25 - Humiliation; 26 - Abandoned

Another fill for @whumptober2019​, and another one that’s pre-WinterIron and an amalgamation of multiple prompts. It’s also available on Ao3.

----- ----- -----

"Never again," Clint groaned.

From around the Quinjet there were sounds of agreement, though none of them had the energy to do more than that.

Today's battle had been simply awful, and none of them had gotten out of it without at least a few bruises, if not worse. Hours upon hours of fighting meant they were also completely exhausted.

Most of them had collapsed where they'd been standing when the fight finally ended. Bucky and Natasha had held on by a single stubborn thread, but Tony had carried all of the others to the Quinjet in the armor, trying to get them as comfortable as possible before getting behind the controls and starting to fly them back somewhere they would have medical attention they could trust.

Once he had the jet in the air and set to fly under JARVIS' control for a while, Tony stared out of the window for a little while. Then, shutting his eyes briefly and taking a deep breath, he got up again.

The Quinjet might not have a large amount of medical supplies, but it did have some emergency things stocked. "J, keep track and order new supplies." He knew he didn't have the energy at the moment to make note of whatever he was using, let alone remember it to replace it later. Fortunately, that was why he had JARVIS.

Sam was the first he saw to, if only because the gash on his arm still hadn’t stopped bleeding. He honestly didn’t imagine it would without stitches, but it was at least important to staunch the flow a little. So, after rinsing it out quickly to make sure there would be as little dirt in there as possible, he smeared some disinfectant cream over there and wrapped it up. The doctors would do better later, but for now it was important to keep him from bleeding too much.

“Any other big wounds?” he asked, managing to sound far less tired than he felt.

“Nothing open,” Sam admitted. “Bruises, wrist might be sprained or broken.”

Grabbing one of the multitudes of cold packs was quickly done, and after putting it down on Sam’s wrist and seeing him relax, Tony moved on to Steve. His supersoldier healing was already at work repairing the damage, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a lot of it.

It took some bandages and cold packs, but soon Steve relaxed at least some. Bucky had the same deal, though he did admit his leg might be broken as well. Since he honestly didn’t know enough to be sure of how to set a leg so it’d heal right, Tony just made a mental note to have it checked out by a doctor as soon as possible.

Slowly but surely, he worked his way through all of them. Most of his work involved applying cold packs to wherever things hurt the most and hoping it’d help with the pain at least a little, since he didn’t want to play with medicine when the doctors might need to give some of them something and it could possibly interact. He did at least notice some of their strain easing a little, so he had to be doing something right.

Finally, Bruce only needed a blanket - the Hulk had taken damage, but that didn’t transfer to Bruce. But he was even more exhausted than usual, not even responding when Tony gently eased him up a little to drink a meal replacement shake. It was cautious work when he wasn’t entirely conscious, and Tony almost wanted to skip it, but he knew the Hulk spent enough energy that leaving Bruce to just sleep it off might mean he’d end up in the medical wing anyway due to a dangerously low blood sugar level. At least this way, he wasn’t in immediate danger, though it was likely he could still use an infusion for the first few hours.

“Dude… How?” Clint groaned as he finally stepped away from Bruce, empty packet in his hand.

“Regular insomniac,” Tony told him with a fair attempt at a grin.

“And a suit that protects you extremely well,” Sam noted, managing to sound both complementary and a little jealous.

“Regular genius insomniac,” he allowed. He couldn’t say he was too surprised when both Clint and Sam graced him with a look only slightly better than if they’d stuck out their tongues. His huff was close enough to laughter that it made both of them glare playfully. “You’re just jealous.”

“Very,” Sam deadpanned, but since Clint hissed out a “Yesssssssss” at the same time, he didn’t take it to heart.

“I mean, our protective suits are great, but it’s gotta help when you’ve got your mechanical suit to do a lot of the fighting.”

Tony just grinned at them. He was well-aware of how easy it was to assume the suit did most of the work, especially since he usually managed to look pretty bright-eyed and bushy-tailed even after a long fight. It wasn’t always ideal, but he preferred it over having them worry about him.

Once they finally landed, he took them to medical one by one. Bruce, as expected, got an IV line and a bed to rest. He didn’t even wake up when Tony picked him up, so he was glad there were experts to look after Bruce now.

Sam got stitches for the gash in his arm and had, unfortunately, broken his wrist. Once that was taken care of, the doctors ended up setting a couple of bones for both Bucky and Steve, though their healing would have to take care of the rest. Little by little, Tony watched as his teammates were taken care of, the doctors busily working around all of them as they switched tasks smoothly.

Perhaps, for situations like these, he should see if there was any more trustworthy personnel that could work on the Avengers? They were enough after regular missions, but now even the less human members of their team needed extensive treatment.

Still, he was sure they were in good hands.

Abandoning them to the care of the doctors, Tony headed off to his workshop. Once the door closed behind him, JARVIS immediately spoke up. “Sir…”

“I know.”

Now that he didn’t have the others to worry about worrying, he didn’t bother putting in effort to keep the strain from his voice. Instead, he stumbled over to the corner he’d designed for when taking the armor off on his own was either too much or simply impossible.

“I would advise you to see a doctor, Sir,” JARVIS informed him as he went to work gently removing the armor.

“They’re busy with the others,” Tony dismissed him. “Not to mention that, even if my ribs are bruised or broken, there’s not a lot to do except take pain medication and cooling it.”

“They would be able to tell if anything was displaced, however. Not to mention there appear to be some other injuries as well that should be checked out, including but not limited to a possible fracture in your left arm and a sprained or broken right ankle.” JARVIS was matter-of-fact about it, and Tony knew he was right. He didn’t think anything was too bad, but without a scan, there was simply no way of being certain.

Still, he shook his head. “I’ll just take it easy for now. They’ve got the others to worry about. I’ll go see them later.”

It was obvious JARVIS disapproved, but rather than push it, he simply guided DUM-E to support Tony for a quick toilet visit before moving over to the couch. Then, he encouraged the ‘bot to grab some cold packs for the injured areas, as well as some bottled water. Tony was grateful for it, resolving to do something nice for his creations when he was feeling better.

One advantage of the suit was certainly that it tended to keep his bones in place, meaning he wasn’t too worried about anything starting to heal wrong. Especially in the few hours it would take for the doctors to take the best care of the others.

He dozed off a few times, but only slightly. The pain made it impossible to truly relax, and every breath hurt just enough to keep him awake despite his exhaustion.

“Sir, the doctors are done with taking care of the others,” JARVIS alerted him.

As he started to get up, he found that he simply… couldn’t. The exhaustion and pain made it so he could hardly even move his mostly uninjured right arm, let alone the rest of his body. So rather than getting up like he knew he should, he just remained where he was.

“Sir?”

He wasn’t too sure what to say. ‘I can’t move’ was incredibly embarrassing, but he’d also sort of promised to go see the doctors once they were free. “I… think my body might be a bit done with today?” he settled for, grimacing a little at how silly that sounded. “I’m trying, but…”

Before he could get too worried, or doze off again - it was honestly a toss-up at the moment - JARVIS announced he had a visitor. “Sergeant Barnes is at the workshop door, Sir.”

Frowning in confusion, Tony couldn’t help but let out a surprised “why?”.

“From what I can gather, he appeared concerned for you upon noticing you weren’t in the medical wing with everyone else. He then asked me if you were on your floor or in the workshop, and I informed him the latter was the case.”

Part of Tony was embarrassed to be seen like this, but another part of him was honestly warmed that Bucky had actually worried about him. It was that part that won out, nodding to JARVIS for permission to let the supersoldier in.

Of course, he regretted it almost immediately when Bucky frowned with concern, sharp eyes noting the multitude of cold packs that DUM-E had kept regularly taking off and reapplying.

“How hurt are you?” was the first question he asked, moving straight past worrying and into caring.

“I was going to see the doctors after they were done with all of you,” Tony justified himself.

At that, Bucky’s eyes softened just a little. “Not blaming you - your body, your choice. Not gonna pretend I like it, but you do what you think is best. Just worried about you.” He stepped closer, giving DUM-E a pat on his claw as the ‘bot came to say hello. “Docs are done with us though - nothing left to do but wait for everything to heal now. Steve and Thor are keeping an eye on the others for now, since we’re mostly healed already.”

His face felt like it was burning up, though he wasn’t sure if it was exhaustion or embarrassment. “I… can’t move,” he admitted, and yeah, it was humiliation.

Despite the way worry sharpened his eyes, Bucky remained gentle and respectful. “Do you… I mean, are you okay with me helping you over there? Or is there anything else I can do?”

And yes, he was incredibly embarrassed. Ever since he’d been young, he’d been taught that needing help was weak, and that he should be able to do things on his own no matter what. But even though there was nothing he could do at the moment, even though his body didn’t even listen to him, Bucky did. Rather than let his concern take over, he asked Tony what he wanted, and there was no doubt in his mind that Bucky would respect his decision even if he decided to just keep sitting there.

It was that respect that enabled him to overcome his embarrassment enough to nod just a little. “I… If you could? Support me?”

He didn’t think he’d be able to handle Bucky carrying him, no matter how much that might be the wiser option for his ribs. And rather than argue, Bucky just nodded, gently helping him off the couch and supporting him as much as possible while still allowing him to stand on his own.

If he had to pinpoint it, that was the moment that started to transform his basic attraction into more.

Whumptober day 31 - Embrace

My final fill for @whumptober2019​! A very whumpy WinterIron ficlet that is also available on Ao3. Thank you all so much for following me this month, and I hope you’ve enjoyed it!!

----- ----- -----

He wasn’t going to last much longer.

Every single part of him was hurting. He had long since passed being exhausted. Some of his wounds had become infected, and he was pretty sure some of his bones had been broken and were healing wrong. Not to mention the fact that the cough he’d developed was worrying him. Ever since Afghanistan, his lungs had already been compromised, and he wouldn’t be surprised to find out they’d gotten infected as well.

If the others didn’t find him soon, he was afraid it might end up being too late. And what was worse, they’d started to make him doubt.

Usually, people would kidnap him for ransom or to make him build them something. It was what he’d been used to since far too young, and he knew how to deal with either of those situations.

These people hadn’t, though. As far as he knew, there had been no demands - to Pepper, to Rhodey, to Bucky, or to the other Avengers. And they certainly hadn’t let him anywhere near anything he could use to get himself out. Instead, the only thing they seemed to want was to make him suffer as much as possible.

Oddly enough, the physical torture wasn’t even the worst. It hurt, and it might be what ended up killing him, but mentally, he could deal with it. But they’d kept him awake for days with lights, with noise, and despite being used to some sleep deprivation, this had quickly surpassed his ability to handle it. And then there was the mental torture - the curses, he was familiar with. Even the way they told him, over and over again, that everything was his fault, that he was a terrible person and that his weapons had killed thousands, that he would burn in hell for all eternity, was familiar.

It was the certainty with which they told him that no one was coming for him that threatened to break him, though. The way they yelled that no one cared about him, because how could they, and they would be glad to be rid of him. The way they laughed and told him he was pathetic, thinking people could actually love someone like him.

Somehow, it felt as though they’d dug up his deepest, darkest fears and threw them straight into his face. It was everything he’d ever worried about, all of the things he had thought but never said out loud.

He’d managed, so far, to pretend it didn’t bother him that much. Three days in, he’d gone silent, stoically gritting his teeth and mentally chanting ‘Stark men are made of iron’ over and over and over again. Outwardly, they might be able to see that he was suffering, but he could still pretend that they hadn’t broken him.

Maybe they hadn’t, yet. Maybe this was just bending, farther than he’d ever thought he could. As long as he didn’t let them see him break, maybe… Maybe he hadn’t, yet.

Through it all, he’d tried to remind himself that they’d come. He might be all of the bad things they said and more, but… They knew about that. Rhodey had known him since he’d been a teenager, had been there through so many highs and lows that he probably knew more about Tony than he knew about himself. Bucky had gotten to know things about him that he’d never told anyone else and still stuck with him, still told him he loved him. Pepper, the other Avengers...

They all knew him, good sides and bad, and they still cared. There was no way they’d faked that, no way they would pretend to like him just for his money or his tech.

(Except he’d thought Obie cared as well, hadn’t he?)

((But Rhodey and Pepper both would’ve been set for life if he’d ended up dying in Afghanistan. Yet they’d never stopped looking for him, never stopped setting up search missions to try to find him.))

Lack of sleep wasn’t helping when it came to trying to have faith. His mind oscillated wildly between the hope that the others cared, that they were looking for him, and the despair of knowing he wasn’t worth it and they shouldn’t come for him, wouldn’t come for him.

He coughed again, grimacing at the way it made agony course through him. There were a few trickles of blood as some of his wounds opened again due to the movement.

Gritting his teeth, Tony reminded himself to just hang on.

They were looking for him. They had to be. They were his friends, his family. They weren’t fake, not like Obie had been. He might not be worth it, might deserve to die right here, suffering until his last breath. But that wasn’t the kind of people they were. They were good, and honest. They were heroes. And he knew he was not a good person, but somehow they must have found something in him that was decent enough for him to deserve having them care about him.

So all he had to do was last.

 Stark men are made of iron. Hang on. They are coming.

He repeated it to himself over and over and over, ignoring the pain as they hit him, cut him, kicked him.

He repeated it to himself over and over and over, drowning out their voices as they yelled about how terrible he was, how pathetic, how worthless.

He repeated it to himself over and over and over, clutching to it desperately as they pushed him down into a tub of salt water that made him want to scream.

 Stark men are made of iron. Hang on. They are coming.

He was still holding onto it when the gunfire started, when there were yells and screams and roars. And he had to crush the little spark of hope, because if it wasn’t them, that might just end up breaking him.

Instead he held on, breathing as evenly as possible and listening carefully for hints of what was going on. And if, in his mind, a litany of please please please had started, well… No one else could hear that, or judge him for his weakness.

And then the door was slammed open, bouncing off the wall and off the hinges.

Bucky was dressed in full gear, one hand holding a gun and the other a knife. The look on his face was absolutely murderous, and even the black of his gear couldn’t hide the blood.

The moment his eyes met Tony’s, his entire face softened in a way that was so intimately familiar that Tony’s breath caught for a moment. “Tony…” Of course, then he looked at the rest of Tony, and his face looked like it could have been carved from stone. Tony knew him well enough to know that, right now, Bucky very badly wanted to go out there and make every single person that had hurt him suffer.

Rather than doing that, though, he stepped further into the room. “Found him,” he informed the others, voice flat and business-like. Tony couldn’t hear what the others were saying, but he could guess when Bucky’s next words were “alive, but injured. Badly.”

After informing the others, though, he once again focused fully on Tony. “Oh, doll…”

He wanted to speak up, wanted to say hello, or that he’d missed him, or that he’d be fine. But he didn’t want to risk it, not with his injuries and his lungs and the way that his throat felt like he’d swallowed knives. So instead he just attempted the best smile he could, feeling the way it sat unevenly on his face.

And then Bucky was there, and for the first time in what felt like ages, someone touched him without hurting him. The whimper he let out was completely involuntary, instantly triggering another coughing fit that made his eyes water with the pain of it.

Through all of it, Bucky held him, somehow managing to find the exact right balance between tight enough to make Tony feel secure without being so tight that it would hurt more or injure him further.

He didn’t have a lot of strength to move with, but with the bit he had left, he buried his face into Bucky’s neck, savoring the warmth, the feeling of utter and complete safety that Bucky always inspired in him. With Bucky holding him, nothing would hurt him anymore. And while he was still very aware of his injuries, they seemed somehow less painful now.

As he pressed a small, desperately grateful kiss into Bucky’s neck, he could feel the way those strong arms tightened just a little, the way Bucky curled around him protectively.

“I’ve got you, doll. We’re here, we’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

Bewitched

A fill for square Y5 - Magic of my @buckybarnesbingo​, as well as a fill for the @tonystarkbingo​ November flash 002 - “Witches/Witchcraft” - WinterIron - General Audiences.

Based on this Tumblr post.

Every single person in town knew about Tony. Incredibly attractive, insanely wealthy, astonishingly intelligent… and magical. It was difficult to find someone who was not fascinated with him, and his list of suitors went on and on.

Unfortunately, there had been one too many incidents with people trying to get into his good graces on false pretenses. His experiences had made him hesitant about getting close to people, let alone close enough to get romantically involved. As much as people tried, he couldn’t stop wondering if it was truly who they were, or if they were pretending in order to get something from him.

So he came up with a plan - he let all of his admirers know that he would marry the person who would enter his house with the key he’d attached to his cat’s collar.

For the first few weeks, it could best be described as a hunt. People fell over one another to try to catch the cat any way they could. But it was too smart, too fast, and it got away every time. No one even managed to get close to the cat, though there were a few people it would tolerate - notably, those who would not chase it too fiercely, though it was still wary around them.

Bucky had long ago figured out he didn’t stand a chance. Oh, he was certainly attracted to the other man, but a one-armed traumatized veteran didn’t even come close to being what Tony deserved.

So he herded his goats, and he watched as others tried and failed to catch the cat. He worried, sometimes, that they would hurt it, but it always managed to get away before that happened.

And then, one day, he found it watching him. At a distance, certainly, and it stiffened the moment it realized Bucky had noticed it, but it was just… there. He hummed, keeping his voice calm like he always did with skittish animals. “Wanted some rest from the hunt today, didn’t you? Don’t worry - I’ll keep my distance, you just relax.”

He stuck to that promise, keeping his distance and focusing on his goats. By the time evening fell and he had to return to the hut that was all he could afford, the cat was a lot more relaxed in his presence.

Despite that, he hadn’t expected it to come back the next day. Or the day after. Or the day after that. But come back it did, sunbathing as Bucky took care of his goats the best he could. As the days went on, he found he’d started talking to the cat. Nothing big at first, just introducing his goats and telling the cat about them. And then he started mentioning thoughts he was having. And before he knew it, he was telling the cat about losing his arm as he tried his best to breathe through the panic.

Without warning, there was a warm weight sitting in his lap. The cat, looking up at him with what appeared to be concern, purring softly. Bucky was distracted enough that his breathing started to slow down, no longer a point of focus.

Instead, he looked reverently down at the cat. He didn’t think it had ever been this close to anyone else, except maybe Tony himself. But here it was, sitting in his lap, helping him out, and the feeling was indescribable.

Trembling, he reached out and touched that soft fur, stroking gently. The cat purred louder, nuzzling its head into his hand, and Bucky felt himself melt. “You’re a sweetheart, you know that? So sweet, helping me out, such a great cat,” he murmured, mesmerized by the smoothness of its coat on his work-rough hand. “So soft, so gorgeous, he must take great care of you.”

Still, he didn’t touch the key. It wasn’t about that, not right now. Instead, they sat together quietly in the warm sun, Bucky keeping up his gentle petting and the cat keeping up its soothing purring.

He’d expected it to be an exception, because he’d been panicking, but the cat kept coming back, coming close and allowing him to touch it. Which he did, happily - but he never touched the key, didn’t even make a motion as though he’d grab it.

They were sitting in the warm sun together, watching Bucky’s goats, when the cat pressed its neck into Bucky’s petting hands. Somehow, it managed to make its “mrow” sound like a question.

“Why I’m not taking it?” he asked, looking down at where the cat looked at him with inquisitive eyes. He should’ve figured that the familiar of someone as magical as Tony wouldn’t be any regular cat. “It’s… He did this to find someone good. Someone worthy. And I can’t say how much I’ve appreciated your presence, or how much I’d like to get to know him better, but… I sincerely doubt I’m the kind of person he’d like to have showing up with that key. I don’t want to walk into that house and… and have him look at me with disappointment.”

A headbutt pulled him out of his thoughts, and he smiled sadly down at the cat. “I just want him to smile, you know? Someone as amazing as him deserves to be happy.”

Suddenly, instead of a cat, it was Tony in his lap. Speechless, Bucky stared.

“I’d like to think we could make one another happy?” Tony said and, despite everything, he sounded almost shy. There was no mistaking the hopeful look in those beautiful eyes, though, or the way that he had willingly spent his time with Bucky these past weeks.

So, a little hesitant despite it all, Bucky reached out his one hand and took Tony’s, whose fingers interlaced with his like they were made to fit together. “I… I’d like to try,” he admitted.

When Tony smiled brightly, his entire being lighting up, he figured they were off to a good start at least.

Whumptober day 29 - Numb

Today’s @whumptober2019​ fill involves the friendship between Tony and Rhodey when the latter comes to find his friend after his parents have died. It’s also available on Ao3.

----- ----- -----

When Jim found him, he was just… sitting. Staring.

“I’m so sorry, man,” he told his best friend, hesitantly sitting down next to him. Tony was usually very touchy and affectionate, like the younger brother he’d never had, but considering the situation, he wasn’t sure what to do.

“It’s… Thank you.” Even Tony’s voice sounded more distant than usual.

For a long while, the two of them just sat in silence. As much as Jim wanted to be there for him, he wasn’t quite sure how to. So he just stayed, hoping it would help at least a little.

Eventually, Tony spoke up, his voice even. “Is it normal to just… not really feel anything?” He breathed, briefly looking over to Jim before going back to staring out the window again, where a thin layer of snow was covering the landscape. “I mean, somewhere in the back of my mind, I know I should be… feeling. Grieving. But it all just feels numb.”

Jim grimaced a little. The only experience with death he could remember, if vaguely, was when his grandfather had died, and that had been over ten years ago. And while he’d liked the man well enough, eleven was not an age where he’d entirely comprehended everything going on.

But he couldn’t even try to imagine losing either of his parents, let alone both of them at the same time. His mind retreated from the very thought as if burnt.

He guessed Tony’s mind might be doing something similar to that, no matter how strained his relationship with his father might have been. “I can’t say if it’s normal or not,” he confessed, “but I can’t say I blame you.”

Silence fell again and, hoping he was doing the right thing, Jim reached out and grabbed Tony’s hand. He’d worried that Tony might pull away, that it might be too much at the moment, but instead he intertwined his fingers with Jim’s and held on.

No doubt that it would all hit, and that Tony would get emotional. It might take a few hours, or a few days… maybe even a few weeks, or months, or even years. But Jim was determined to be there for his friend no matter how long it took, and no matter in what kind of way his grief would express itself.

There was no doubt in his mind Tony would do the exact same for him, had been no doubt that they would be there for one another ever since the day they’d met one another.

More than friends, they were family.

Whumptober day 23 - Bleeding Out

For my 23rd fill for @whumptober2019, I wrote this pre-WinterIron story in an AU with supernatural creatures. It’s also available on Ao3.

----- ----- -----

It had happened so quickly that Tony honestly couldn’t quite recall what happened. One moment he was calmly walking down the street; the next, he found himself lying in an alley, bleeding out from multiple stab wounds.

Weakly, he tried to sit up, only to fall back down the one inch he’d managed when the pain hit him.

“Help?” he tried, but he couldn’t quite manage to speak any louder than a whisper.

Closing his eyes, he wondered if he should just resign himself to his fate. His attacker had taken his phone, though there was no way the guy would manage to hack his way in - JARVIS himself kept Tony’s phone safe and inaccessible to anyone but him.

At least it meant that JARVIS would be able to find the person who’d done this to him.

He wasn’t sure why, either. It had occurred to him that it might be a mugging, but his wallet was still safe in his pocket. Only his phone had been taken, making sure he wouldn’t be able to call for help.

Maybe it was because of who he was. An actual assassination attempt for being Tony Stark. He had no illusions about being perfect, but… He’d been helping, right? His weapons kept American soldiers safe, and his multitude of other inventions made lives easier and more comfortable. More and more, he’d been moving to the fields that had truly interested him when he’d been learning about engineering and programming.

He thought he’d been doing better.

No words had been exchanged, not as far as he could recall. Just gloved hands and a sharp knife, before he was left alone to die.

No reason had been given at all.

Cold was creeping up on him, but he couldn’t even shiver. Instead, all he could do was look up at the dark sky.

Weirdly enough, the thought hit him that he would’ve preferred to die under the light of the stars, however difficult they might be to see in the middle of New York City - instead, there were clouds obscuring them, making the sky look empty and dreary.

He tried to swallow, failing and coughing instead. It made pain rush through him once again, and he couldn’t help his stifled moan. Damn, but he didn’t want to die. Not yet. There was so much he still wanted to do, so much he still thought he could improve. Now that he was finally old and settled enough that the board listened to him when he suggested avenues other than weapons, he’d been getting to where he’d wanted to take Stark Industries since he’d been young.

He didn’t want to die yet.

Focusing on the clouds, however dreary they were, he tried to keep on breathing. The longer he could manage to keep surviving, the more time there was for someone to perhaps find him and get him to a hospital.

There wasn’t a lot he could move, but he did still have his expensive leather wallet and a somewhat functioning right arm. So, trying to keep his breathing steady, he slowly reached for his wallet, letting his arm fall back down once he’d gotten a hold of it. Victory. Then, slowly, he started slapping it onto the ground.

It didn’t make much of a sound, but at least it was more than his voice could produce.

Damn, Pepper would be so pissed at him. Not to mention Rhodey. And Obie, too.

He just hoped Happy wouldn’t feel too bad for suddenly falling ill. That wasn’t something he could help, after all, and there was no way Tony was forcing the man to keep acting as a bodyguard when he should be home and resting.

As he grew increasingly cold, he just found himself wishing he could get a message to them somehow. Not even to save him anymore - he wasn’t sure that was even possible, not with his injuries and the amount of blood he’d lost, though he was still determined to keep trying. But just to let them know that he cared, and that he knew how incredibly lucky he had been to have them in his life and caring for him.

Honestly, it wasn’t even that bad anymore. The pain was starting to fade out of awareness, and instead he mostly felt tired. It was becoming a struggle to keep his eyes open, and his slow tapping with the wallet was tapering off into a silence filled only with his increasingly strained breathing.

Until a shadow appeared above him.

It wasn’t much of a shadow, not with the lack of light, but it woke Tony up just a little. Not enough to speak, not with the way every breath was a struggle by now, but enough to look at the man that had appeared.

He was attractive - shoulder-length brown hair, intense light eyes, and a highly attractive stubble adorning a jawline that had Tony envious. His broad build and dark clothes should probably have felt threatening, but he was honestly beyond that. Instead, he found himself wondering if it would be possible to experience one last touch, one last confirmation. If it would be possible not to die on his own.

“Oh, sweetheart… That don’t look good,” he said softly, and Tony managed the slightest shiver at the sound of his voice. It was like a warm blanket surrounding him, leaving him feeling peaceful and comforted.

Even more than before, he struggled to keep his eyes open. He wasn’t alone anymore, and he wanted to savor every moment of it.

Which was why he could observe the contemplative look on the man’s face as he looked down at Tony, as well as the exact moment he appeared to come to a decision. As well as the exact moment fangs descended from the sides of his mouth.

Rather than feeling afraid, or threatened, Tony just gave into it. The touch of lips on the wound that appeared to have just missed his heart was more gentle than he thought anyone but Rhodey had touched him in years. It didn’t take long, not with how much he’d bled already, and for a brief moment he wondered if the vampire had decided to simply take advantage of the situation and drain him completely.

Then there was a wrist in front of his mouth, the tiniest slice releasing a clear liquid. The moment the taste hit him, Tony couldn’t help but latch on, drinking as deeply as he could in his weakened state.

Vaguely, he was aware of a large hand cradling his head as he sucked, stroking his hair just a little. He leaned into it just a little, aware he was probably acting like a cat desperate for attention, but he couldn’t help himself. Already, it felt like coming home.

Still incredibly gently, the vampire pulled his wrist away. It was tempting to follow, to taste some more of that ambrosia, but that would mean pulling away from the hand still stroking his hair. So he leaned into it, into the vampire’s body. He knew it shouldn’t be, but to him, it felt warm and safe.

As the Change set in, he could feel the way he was picked up gently in a bridal carry, allowing his head to fall against that strong chest. In response, the arms tightened just a little to pull him even closer.

There was a soft whisper, barely audible. “I’ll take care of you now, sweetheart.”

Then, everything went black.

Whumptober day 30 - Recovery

My second-to-last fill for @whumptober2019​, a somewhat silly Pre-WinterIron AU where Tony goes to a rehabilitation center after getting heart surgery. It’s also available on Ao3.

----- ----- -----

Rhodey and Pepper had been the ones to convince him to go to the Marvel Rehabilitation Center.

He’d argued at first. He’d managed to make it through the first operation, after all, and those circumstances had been less than ideal. This time he had anesthetics, and he wasn’t being tortured, and he had time to heal at his own pace instead of racing against time to try to figure out a way to escape.

When he’d said so, they’d only looked sad, which hadn’t been his intention. He just wanted to make it clear that he didn’t need any help, medical or psychological, because he could deal with it.

They had argued just as hard and, when outlining the many benefits of medical and psychological help as well as having a place where there would be other people around to keep him busy in medically appropriate ways did not work, they pleaded with him. And while he was great at saying ‘no’ to their arguments, he was incredibly weak to their pleas.

So the Marvel Rehab Center it was.

For the first few days, he’d hated it. He didn’t want to talk about his traumas (he would like to forget all about them) and he didn’t want any assistance (he would like to just work his way through everything like he usually did).

Still, he’d remembered his promise to his best friends, and so he tried. Marvel was huge, after all, dealing with all kinds of problems and people. So he figured that, if nothing else, he’d be able to find a way to be less bored. Rehab-appropriate diversion was what he’d been promised, and he’d find it even if it killed him.

The staff hadn’t been too pleased with the fact that he’d sort of gone missing for a few hours, but Tony figured it had been more than worth it (and he bet that if he asked the staff now, they’d agree - he’d been a lot calmer and more agreeable since).

Steve had been the first one he’d met. Steve was tiny and ready to throw down whenever and also suffered from a laundry list of illnesses that he had apparently thrown down with ever since he was born. Tony liked him instantly.

Bruce was the second one. From what Tony could gather, he’d had some bad history which had resulted in Dissociative Identity Disorder, with an alternate identity named Hulk. It was also easy to tell that Bruce was terrified of hurting anyone, and despised Hulk for his violent tendencies (though always towards objects rather than people). Besides that, though, he was also a brilliant scientist, and Tony had zero hesitation about hanging out with him as often as possible.

Natasha was the third, and Tony was honestly not entirely sure what was up with her. He guessed it had something to do with the suspicious way she tended to watch everyone, or the way she had a tendency of appearing this close to killing someone. But she’d looked lonely, and everyone had appeared to be afraid of her. Tony could basically feel Rhodey and Pepper facepalming in the distance as he approached her.

Clint was next. Clint was a disaster. Chaotic, depressed, and beyond clumsy. He also had the single best sense of humor Tony had ever found. He’d decided he was adopting Clint.

Sam was also depressed, as well as traumatized, from losing his best friend. He seemed to find part of his own purpose in helping out others at the Center and often led some sort of mindfulness group that Tony had said he would join only if Steve would. Considering the thought of Steve trying out mindfulness was laughable, he wasn’t anticipating that would be something to worry about.

Thor was loud and cheerful and had body dysmorphic disorder. He tried his best to be cheerful and it was clear that most of the other people found him overwhelming. The fact that he was incredibly tall and incredibly muscular didn’t help much. Thor laughed at Tony’s jokes when he made them and clapped him on the shoulder hard enough that he wondered if it had left a bruise.

Finally (and perhaps most importantly), there was Bucky. Bucky, who had seen war. Bucky, who had lost his left arm. Bucky, who had then been held as a prisoner of war. Bucky, who was ridiculously attractive and ridiculously sarcastic and ridiculously smart.

Tony had decided he wanted to marry Bucky.

He wasn’t in a hurry - it was clear Bucky was not comfortable with himself, didn’t feel like he was in a position to get into a relationship. But Tony was more than willing to wait if that was what it took, and eventually he’d be able to ask Bucky out and hope the other man would say ‘yes’ so Tony could get on with his twelve-step plan towards marrying him.

That evening, he’d texted Rhodey and Pepper. Met my future husband. You’ll love him.

He might not have wanted to go here, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. Not as he looked around at all of them. Not as Steve threatened to fight Thor, who looked at him like he was a particularly adorable puppy. Not as Clint knocked over their game board accidentally and Bruce facepalmed. Not as Sam and Bucky snarled at one another, looking about ready to tear each others’ throats out. Not even as Natasha pulled out a knife from somewhere (and he was pretty sure she wasn’t allowed to have them) and told them all to shut the hell up and sit down before she made them.

In fact, he mused, he should send Rhodey and Pepper a thank-you card. Perhaps the others would even add a message of their own.