Chapter Text
Tony had never woken up on his knees before.
It confused his body first. Instinctively, his hands reached out for some kind of context, and found only empty air. He braced himself to fall forwards, only to realise that he was already too close to the ground… But not as close as he expected to be, somehow…
Then his brain woke up enough to ask what the hell was going on…
...Where am I?
He blinked, and raised his head from the patch of white carpet that he’d been vacantly staring through. He found a disorienting wall of moving light, without perspective, without edges...
An uncomfortable sensation curdled in his stomach. He asked himself if he was dreaming - entirely hypothetically, of course, because no one ever really thinks they’re dreaming when they’re awake…
And then, slowly, the shapes started to distinguish themselves from the noise, and Tony began to find words for them…
He realised he was kneeling on the floor of a large empty room, walled on all sides by flawless glass, not unlike the expensive offices at the tops of skyscrapers… And he was up high. Not as high as his room in the Tower, maybe… But at least fifty stories. High enough to make out the shape of a sky line, to be looking down on the rooftops of surrounding buildings and blur the details on the ground below...
The view outside began to make some sort of sense. Tony recognised the deep azure blue of the sky, the sepia tint to the sunshine that made him think of late afternoon in the summer. He started to identify the telltale details of his surroundings; the outline of metropolitan architecture, the familiar flow of urban traffic, the unmistakable bustle of a busy city…
But he didn’t recognise the city.
In fact, this didn’t look like any city that he’d ever seen before…
There was too much light, for one thing. Every available surface seemed to be glowing with illuminated images and colourful displays… Everything is a soft neon pallet of rose pink and sky blue and bright, brilliant white. As his eyes adjusted, Tony was able to pick out the holograms shimmering in the air… far more advanced than anything he’d ever seen before...
...He didn’t recognise any of the lettering he could see on the largest of the glowing signs.
...Even from this distance, he knew that he didn’t recognise any of the vehicles moving along the busy streets… he didn’t recognise the way they were moving… as though they were floating..
...And there were so many people. A swarm of brightly coloured specs, flowing through every crack in the landscape, like a single, shimmering stream…
Everything just seemed so… alien…
...You’re in an alien city.
A cold punch of dread hit him right below the ribs, powerful enough to clear the fog from his mind-
Which was the first Tony had realised that it was even there.
The panic gripped him tighter, as he recognised that he should’ve panicked sooner. He went back over his train of thought, growing increasingly anxious as he realised how slowly everything was filtering through, how strangely he was looking at everything…
...There’s something wrong with me
...And I’m in an alien city
...And I don’t know how I got here-
And then, as he was about spiral into a full on freak out, he heard a sharp intake of breath from behind him-
And he recognised the voice.
Immediately, there was a pulse of reassurance. Not enough to drown out his fear, but enough to temper it, at least-
Because Steve was here.
Whatever the hell was going on, wherever they were, Tony wasn’t alone.
With that, he finally managed to tear his gaze from the window, turning to find the source of that sound - but first, he found Pepper, slumped on her knees, just to the left of him. Her head was bowed forward, her arms hanging heavy at her sides… But Tony could see the deep rhythm of her breathing in the curve of her back. It occurred to him that this was probably the same position he’d woken up in. He leaned in to check that she was okay, before he swallowed hard and shifted to look at the room behind him.
He saw Steve first, sitting on the floor with his legs stretched out in front of him, frowning thoughtfully at the skyline. Beside him, Bucky was lying flat on his back, limbs spread like a jumping jack. A bit further behind them, and off to the left, Nat was curled on her side, her head resting on her hands. Next to her was Bruce, slumped in that same strange, kneeling position. Sam and Rhodey were at the back of the room, lying side by side.
...Something about this arrangement of people felt familiar.
Tony squeezed his eyes shut and told himself to concentrate. Slowly, it came back to him…
The memory of strolling into the breakroom with Pepper, talking about… something…
Pausing when he locked eyes with Steve… Who was sitting on the couch… Next to Bucky…
… Bruce standing next to the lounge chair that Nat was sitting in, trading small talk.
Rhodey and Sam, chatting in the kitchen…
So, Tony had found the last thing that he could remember - that was some comfort.
He’d found the specific time and place they’d been taken from…
That just left how they’d been taken…
And where they’d been taken to…
And by whom…
And why…
And why he still felt so floaty, and lightheaded…
“I’ve done this before,” Steve commented, in a dazed, distant voice. Tony blinked at him.
“You have?”
“Well, not… this…” Steve corrected, gesturing vaguely to the windows. “Sorry. I just meant… Times Square was like this, the first time out of the ice. All… Bright and big… and impossible, like this…”
All the feelings swelled up in Tony’s chest, much faster than his head could process them.
The surge of affection, the immediate desire to reach out for him, a pang of longing…
A simmering of guilty resentment, a cool disappointment of some kind…
A weary sense that it was all very familiar.
...I want to love him. But I can’t.
...Oh.
Oh yeah, now Tony remembered…
Steve had lied to him.
Or, rather, kept a secret from him - which had, of course, entailed so many little lies, over the course of weeks, and weeks, and weeks…
Steve had known the whole truth about Bucky, and Tony’s parents, since the day that Hydra fell. But rather than coming straight to Tony, Steve had decided to go on his own secret manhunt.
He’d collaborated with Sam, and Nat… They got to hear the truth about Tony’s parents before he did…
And all the while, Steve had carried on trading jokes with him, and casually lying about what he’d been doing at the weekend, and dismissing Tony when he asked what was wrong with him lately…
...And when Steve did work up the nerve to tell him, after almost three months… Tony had not reacted well.
Again, the shame flared up before his mind could find the memory - and only grew hotter, once he did.
The horrible, personal, unfair things he’d said about Steve, and about Bucky, the ridiculous threats he’d made. All whilst Steve stood there in silence, stoically absorbing the abuse - which had only made Tony angrier, at the time…
Of course, he had calmed down… eventually.
He’d been forced to accept that he really couldn’t hold Bucky responsible for the death of his parents - that he hadn’t hated him for any of the other assassinations that the Winter Soldier carried out.
That he couldn’t judge a crime more harshly, simply because it had affected him personally, or because it happened to have hurt him more…
And that he couldn’t really be mad at Steve for not loving him.
He could be hurt by it-
And, God, was he still hurt by it.
Thinking about all those weeks when he thought they were growing closer, all the moments he found such meaning in, and realising that Steve had been thinking of him as a co-worker that whole time. That he’d been outright lying to Tony’s face at the time… That he’d never really trusted Tony, or thought of him as a friend, or given any thought to the part Tony played in his life.
That Tony had been far more deluded than he’d ever realised.
All of that still hurt so much that it kept him awake at night. There were times when it could hit him out of nowhere, stop him in his tracks and force him to deal with the imminent threat of tears…
But, as much as he would like to, he’d finally accepted that he couldn’t blame Steve for that.
That Steve never had to care about him, or think of him as part of his life. That he didn’t have to value Tony’s input, or be hurt by his suffering. That he didn’t owe Tony an explanation for any of the things he was really hurt by.
And so, Tony had accepted the cold, formal apology that Steve had offered, and tried to convince himself that Steve was at least sorry about that much - that he at least felt bad for the professional disrespect towards a team mate, and that he wouldn’t do it again.
And, to Steve’s credit, he’d accepted Tony’s apology for his ridiculous reaction, and had been good enough not to hold it against him.
And now they spent their days being civil with one another… Which probably meant they had gone back to their previous relationship… At least, as far as Steve saw it. Apparently.
And if this had changed everything for Tony - if Tony was permanently, endlessly devastated to have had all his meagre hopes crushed like that… Well, that was his problem, he supposed.
...And probably not the thing to be thinking about right now.
“Do you feel all, um… Dizzy?” He managed eventually. Steve’s frown deepened, his gaze drawn from the horizon to the inside of his own head as he thought about it.
“I feel like I haven’t woken up yet,” he replied, after a moment.
There was a low groan from behind him. Tony looked over to see Rhodey pushing himself up to his knees. Next to him, Sam opened his eyes, and then narrowed them in confusion… and then closed them again.
“Hey, Rhodey, you with us? You okay?” He called. “Sam?”
“...Where are we?” Rhodey asked, still squinting against the light. Sam stirred again, rolling heavily onto his side.
“No idea,” Tony answered.
“How did we get here?”
“Not a clue.”
“Who....”
“I don’t know,” Tony shrugged. Rhodey pursed his lips as he considered that string of answers… And then quirked an eyebrow in a well, there you go, sort of a gesture, and nodded.
Which did at least pre-empt Tony’s final question about whether his head felt fuzzy.
There was an almost imperceptible intake of breath as Natasha’s eyes snapped open, her body barely moving - the way a cat wakes up.
And then Bucky pushed himself up on his arms, ending up in the same legs-out position as Steve, already scanning the room with an increasing awareness…
And immediately, Tony remembered - you have to be nice to Bucky.
After all these weeks of reminding himself not to take it out on Bucky, not to seem jealous of Bucky, not to give anyone any ammunition with regards to Bucky… Apparently, overcompensating had become second nature.
“Hey, you’re okay,” Tony reassured, automatically. Bucky turned to face him, his eyes still not quite focused-
And then, from the back of the room, there was the unmistakable clunk of a door being unlocked.
Bruce and Pepper both jerked awake, as everyone else flinched in unison. Rhodey and Sam began to shuffle away from the sound, to where the rest of the group was huddling closer together in the centre of the room. Tony only noticed the mirrored panel as it began to move, slowly sliding upwards, like the mystery-door on a cheesy game show… For a second, it seemed like there was only darkness behind it.
And then from out of that darkness, two people emerged.
The first was a tall, broad-shouldered man in a sequined silver jumpsuit and a dazzling red satin cape. His hair was so white it glowed under the light, and swept up into an elaborate style that either reminded Tony of the Court of Versailles or a Mardi Gras float - he couldn’t decide. The man’s skin was pale, and, when Tony looked closely, tinted mint-green
...Which would make this the first alien that Tony had ever encountered who was literally a green man from outer space.
...He had no idea why he should want to smile at that.
The green man walked out into the room first, striding confidently, his otherwise human features arranged into a showman’s grin. A young woman followed behind him, scurrying, her eyes shining with nervous excitement. She was wearing a pearl pink shift dress that shimmered when she moved, and her candy pink hair was tied up in neat pigtails… And Tony could no longer tell if her skin was a subtle shade of pastel blue, or if all the vibrant colours were playing with his perceptions. What was clear was that she was subordinate to the other guy - who was, by now, standing expectantly in front of them, clearly preparing himself to speak.
“Hello, and Welcome,” he announced, throwing his arms wide. “My name is Scaramouche, and this is my assistant, Galileo,” he gestured to the woman, who smiled shyly and gave a little wave with her fingers, “and it is my great honour to welcome you to Bulsara.”
For a good few seconds, everyone fixed him a silent, glassy eyed stare. It was Pepper who finally spoke for the group.
“What?” She demanded, before she turned to Tony with a questioning look in her eyes. He simply shrugged at her, this one wasn’t me.
“I understand, you must all be tired and disoriented from the journey. I know, it can be unnerving - but I assure you, it’s perfectly safe, and the effects will wear off in a few moments.”
Tony felt the others shifting, and exchanging confused glances with one another. He kept his eyes locked on Scaramouche as he considered everything that he’d just heard…
Of course, Tony had no reason to believe anything this guy said...
But he was starting to feel more clear headed, at least compared to when he first woke up… That was… something...
“Hang on, wait a minute - start again,” Tony said, waving a hand in front of him. “We’re where?”
“You’re in Bulsara,” Scaramouche repeated, brightly.
“And that’s, what, a different planet to earth?” Tony pressed.
“A different realm, technically,” Scaramouche corrected, with a proud grin. “Bulsara exists in the space between realities, only accessible by special invitation - it is a place famous throughout all universes as a world of great experience, great knowledge, and great pleasure.”
“Well, I’ve never heard of it,” Bucky commented, to no one in particular. Again, Tony found himself swallowing down an inappropriate urge to laugh.
“And who brought us here, you?” He asked, even though he hadn’t processed the answer to his first question yet. “Why? How?”
Scaramouche’s grin broadened, his entire face lighting up with innocent glee. It was unsettling.
“Every year, Bulsara honours the greatest heroes of the galaxies at a grand festival. The celebrations last four full days, and feature the greatest spectacle and sensory experience anywhere in reality. Billions of people compete to get a ticket - and, this year,” he paused for dramatic effect, almost hovering with excitement, “the grand council has selected the Avengers to be our guests of honour.”
He looked at them, expectantly.
“...But how did we get here?” Tony deadpanned. Scaramouche nodded obligingly, his enthusiasm undiminished.
“I understand, you will have lots of questions - and, when you’re feeling more acclimatised, everything will be explained in full, I promise.”
Tony scowled at him, instantly unimpressed with that answer. But before he could force the issue, Nat cut in,
“Clint isn’t here.”
“Or Thor,” Tony realised out loud, “or Wanda, or Vision.”
“And how did I get roped into this?” Pepper added incredulously.
“Ah, yes,” Scaramouche conceded, bowing his head slightly, “terrible shame that, but I gather that the others weren’t with you, when the transfer was initiated?”
“No…” Tony mused, as the details came back to him.
Clint was back at home with his family.
Wanda and Vision were out… somewhere. New Jersey, maybe.
Thor was still… In space. Doing… whatever he’d been doing, for the last few months…
...Okay, so everything was still a little fuzzy.
But his brain had woken up enough for him to think about the technicalities - enough to provide him with more of the right questions.
“Initiate the what? The transfer?” He demanded. “What does that mean?” Scaramouche held his palms up in a placating gesture.
“Come, I’ll introduce you to the festival directors - they should be able to give you more of the details,” he suggested, pointing back toward the door he’d entered through. A prickle of anxiety ran up Tony’s spine, a physical resistance gathering between his shoulders…
And, in spite of everything, it was Steve he looked to first.
Tony could tell, Steve was still a few minutes behind him. His lips were softened with sleep, his brow creased with confusion… But, when their eyes met, Tony could hear what he was thinking, as clearly as he ever had-
What else are we going to do?
...It was always so annoying when Steve was right.
*
Steve didn’t really come to his senses until they were already walking into another room.
It was a lot like the first room - huge and white, with the same floor to ceiling windows on all sides. The only difference was that this room was sparsely furnished with low, white fabric couches and gold leafed coffee tables and pink-tinted neon light fixtures… Like the cover of Town & Country Magazine from the future.
On the largest of the couches, directly facing the door that the team had walked in through, two seemingly human men were perched, their hands on their knees, tensed with excitement.
They looked as though they were waiting to meet the puppy they’d just adopted, or something.
...Which, at last, led Steve to thinking about how unnerving the whole situation really was.
The fear began to prickle up through the numbness. The details of the alien landscape came into sharper focus as the adrenaline soaked into his system. He became much more aware of his breathing, moving higher in his chest, pulling his lungs tight as he scrambled to think of everything that had happened so far
...But he couldn’t really remember.
...He hadn’t been paying attention.
Oh, that was bad. That was the worst of all the bad things.
Steve couldn’t be off guard like this-
Oh, if he’d missed something…
...or said something, or done something-
Why couldn’t he remember?
“So, may I introduce you to Mr Rousseau May, and Mr Rousseau Taylor, the directors of the festival,” an unfamiliar voice announced…
But not that unfamiliar…
Steve turned to see the man in the jumpsuit gesturing towards the two men on the couch.
And Steve knew that he should know the man in the jumpsuit, he knew that he’d just met him… He should remember his name…
He should know how they got from one room to the other…
He should know where they were, and what was going on, and what he was going to do about it…
If he’d already screwed something up…
If he’d already let something slip…
If he’d already let everyone down…
The tightening in his chest was starting to get obstructive. His vision was blurring at the edges-
“Honestly, it is such an honour to meet you,” one of the Rousseau’s beamed, as the two of them leapt up off of the couch in perfect union.
“I know we aren’t supposed to have favourites,” the other Rousseau acknowledged, smugly, “but, Captain Rogers, I have to tell you, I have been a fan of yours since I was a kid…”
Steve’s shoulders tensed, as they began to walk towards the group, their eyes locked on him specifically. He braced his legs against a bodily urge to flee, his lips already parting to give the objection he hadn’t thought of yet-
And then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tony take a step forward, into his line of vision.
“Okay,” Tony announced, decisively, putting both palms out in front of him. “Before we get to the meet and greet - I believe we were up to question, how the fuck did we get here? Hm?”
Steve felt his body soften, instantly. There was a pleasant swell of dizziness when he managed a slow, deep breath. There was even the faintest tingling of a smile, as noted the familiar defiance in Tony’s eyes, the battle-ready posture, the thousands of calculations that he could see Tony running in his head…
Steve was so glad he was here.
...Even though he already remembered that there was something anxious and guilty and painful, without having to remember what it was
… Even though, instinctively, he was braced for a feeling of disappointment and loss and inadequacy
… Even though there was something inherently sad about how very pretty Tony was.
Still, Steve was glad he was here right now. That much he knew.
...You’re not actually listening to the explanation he just demanded though, are you?
...Shit.
Steve snapped to attention again as one of Rousseau’s finished talking. Kicking himself, he turned back to Tony - who was now frowning, thoughtfully.
“...But if you’ve really managed to isolate that central equation - if you’re telling me this has actually been successfully tested millions of times…” Tony mused, “that would mean you’d essential cracked the secret of transposing space between two non-consecutive points - that would open up a whole new realm of possibility for-”
“Tony, seriously,” Rhodey interjected, “not the key thing, right now.”
“Oh, right,” Tony accepted, and shook his head, and steeled his expression again. “And you’ve brought us here to go to a festival?”
“And why didn’t you tell us?” Sam demanded, suddenly. “Or, ask us? You just… Snapped us out of our reality without so much as a heads up?”
“And I must apologise for that,” Scaramouche answered him, not sounding especially sorry. “Unfortunately, your realm is just outside the reach of our communications technology, at least for now. Ideally, we would have liked to send you an invitation and a programme in advance, but I’m afraid it wasn’t possible.”
“... So you just took us?” Nat squinted at him, clearly unimpressed.
“I understand that you must be a little overwhelmed,” Scaramouche placated, “and, of course, you don’t yet know the prize you’ve been given - it’s natural. But you’ll have to trust me. When you see Bulsara - when you see what this festival has to offer - you’ll understand that it’s an opportunity you would never have declined. No one would.”
“I would,” Bruce chipped in, still sounding dazed. “I do. I am… declining, right now…”
“I promise, you’ll feel much better once you acclimatise - and when you see what we have in store for you,” Scaramouche dismissed him, turning again to the two Rousseaus with a flourish, go on, tell them.
Steve would’ve liked to be outraged by Scaramouche’s casual arrogance - but he was too busy warning himself to listen to what was being said.
“Well, we don’t want to overwhelm you with too many of the details all at once, obviously,” the first Rousseau began, giddily.
“Especially if you’re still feeling tired from the trip,” the other picked up, without missing a beat, “but we can tell you that it’s the best food, and music, and entertainment that Bulsara has to offer-”
“Which makes it the best that anywhere in the universe has to offer,” the first one clarified, “the greatest performers and creators and artists in existence have gathered here - to stage their championship competitions, and perform their greatest works, and to provide the delicacies that will be available to you throughout your stay.”
“We have a grand banquet planned for every night of the festival, over a hundred different parties and theatrical performances, sporting showcases from the greatest athletes in the galaxies,” Rousseau Number One went on, like he was listing things as they came to him, “all culminating in the Gala Ball on the final night.”
“And, of course, you are completely free to enjoy the festival as you like-”
“-As guests of honour, you’ll have full access to everything, and it will be entirely your choice what you want to take part in-”
“-Although, later on, we would like to talk to some of you about taking part in the Showcases that we have planned-”
“-Those are the performances we stage in the main hall, after dinner each night - without wishing to brag, they’re considered the crowning jewel of the whole event. And, of course, this year we’ll be celebrating The Avengers, and we would love for you to play some small part-”
“Although, of course, you won’t be in any way obliged.”
They both looked at the group, breathless.
At first, Steve was just glad they’d stopped talking - his neck had started to ache with the effort of bouncing between them.
...But then he thought about everything they’d said.
“...You want us to be in a show?” He repeated, narrowing his eyes.
“We can talk about that later,” Rousseau number one replied, with a patronising wave - but his partner was simply too excited to keep his mouth shut.
“We have a three-part Showcase planned,” he explained, hurriedly. “Themed around the opposite forces that are at work within the Avengers - the light and the dark,” he gestured - pointedly - between Steve and Tony, and repeated the movement as he continued, “the chaos and order, the reckless genius and the consistent goodness.”
Right behind him, Steve heard Bucky breathe a little giggle - which did strike him as odd, under the circumstances. Unfortunately, Steve wasn’t up to concentrating on more than one thing at a time yet, so he was forced to let it go-
Instead focusing on that familiar pinch of injustice he felt on Tony’s behalf, that very specific protective instinct that he’d bitten back a thousand times before…
What was very unfamiliar - unheard of, as a matter of fact - was saying it out loud...
“We have an interpretive light show around the theme of redemption, and we’d love for you to introduce it, Mr Stark-”
“Why, what did he do?” Steve demanded, petulantly.
“Nothing!” Tony exclaimed, throwing his arms out. “This one wasn’t me.”
Ah. Back to something Steve knew. The painfully familiar stab of unfairness that hit directly between the ribs, every time Tony misunderstood him like that - the little voice that whispered, I was only trying to… That was all perfectly, wearily normal.
Again, the weird thing was that he carried on talking.
“I didn’t mean that,” Steve snapped back. “Why do you always assume I’m trying to be mean to you?”
Tony paused.
His lips parted, but no words came out.
And then, just as Steve was beginning to realise how strange that all was, Bucky laughed again.
“I’m sorry!” He exclaimed immediately, even through his giggles. “I’m not laughing at that, I swear.”
“What are you laughing at?” Sam asked him, irritably.
“Them! Calling Steve the symbol of consistency and order and doing what you're told, or whatever,” Bucky snickered, “because, yeah, that’s absolutely what I thought, when I was dragging Steve from Ohio out of the enlistment office. When he was running head first into every bar fight like the ginger kitten from the Aristocats - I swear, Colonel Phillips just rolled over in his grave,” he trailed off into a low, musical giggle, eventually dropping his face into his hands in an attempt to calm himself. “Sorry. I am sorry,” he managed, after a few shuddering breaths.
“...The kitten from the Aristocats?” Sam asked, wryly.
“ Yeah, well, I only found out there were Disney movies like last week, so…” Bucky muttered. And then he looked up at Steve, and then at Tony, attempting a more sober tone when he said again, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, it’s not your fault,” Tony sighed. “I don’t think anyone is in their right mind, right now.”
And there was another reaction Steve recognised…
...But, damnit, he didn’t want to recognise this one.
Steve had spent weeks telling himself that he was not jealous of how nice Tony was being to Bucky.
That he was very pleased that Tony was being so nice to Bucky.
That he hadn’t even noticed that Tony was being so nice to Bucky
...Far nicer than he’d ever been to Steve.
Steve had been so careful not to acknowledge that comparison, so careful not to wonder why Tony had never been this understanding or forgiving or helpful when he was lost in the modern world...
And he’d thought it now.
...And, oh God, if he said that out loud-
“Why are we just saying things?” Steve demanded, purely for fear of what he might say instead. “Being tired and lightheaded from the trip, fine, but this isn’t… that. This isn’t normal. This isn’t even how I talk. Jesus, why can’t I stop talking?” He caught the nervous glance that the Rousseaus threw in Scaramouche’s direction. “What?”
“Well, among the many things that Bulsara is famous for, is the fact that it cultivates a diverse range of plant life - most of which are used in medicine and food production,” Scaramouche explained, “but, perhaps the most famous are the plants with recreational, and inebriating qualities-”
“You’ve drugged us?” Steve yelped, incredulously.
“Oh, no! No, of course not,” Scaramouche insisted. “...But those plants are grown close to the city centre, and in large quantities, and as such there are trace amounts of the pollen in the air-”
“There are drugs in the air?” Steve squeaked
“-in very small quantities,” Scaramouche conceded. “And there may be some minor effects when people first arrive in Bulsara - but I can assure you, you will soon adjust to it. In half an hour…” and he paused to consider Steve, and then Bucky… “Maybe a little longer for the two of you, if the serum enhances those effects at all - but even so, I can assure you, you’re at no risk, and you’ll soon feel like your normal selves again. Well, unless you’d like to sample some of our many experience-enhancing-”
“Wait, woah, wait a minute,” Steve demanded, throwing a hand up in front of him. Scaramouche paused, obligingly. “Hang on - What effects?”
“...You may feel a little less inhibited,” Scaramouche answered, more cautiously. “You may feel more relaxed, and have marginally less impulse control-”
“It’s a truth serum?” Steve cut in, outright panicked now-
Leaping to the conclusion that scared him the most.
“Oh, no, nothing like that,” Scaramouche reassured him - in a way that was not reassuring at all. “And, as I say, these effects are minor, and they’re temporary.”
Steve felt his fear boil over into anger - a scalding, physical rage that tensed his jaw and curled his fists-
Of course, there were so many things we would’ve liked to say about that. Things he would’ve liked to scream at the top of his lungs.
But he didn’t dare open his mouth.
He couldn’t risk a justified rant about how presumptuous and creepy and potentially dangerous this whole thing was, for fear of the deeply buried truths that may come pouring out after it…
If he blurted out that he was terrified and confused right now-
If he let slip that he hadn’t been paying attention, that he didn’t have a plan-
...If he ended up confessing that he was in love with Tony-
That he wanted Tony-
That he wanted to-
Steve pinched his lips together tightly, and looked at the floor.
“I think…” Galileo suggested timidly, from the edge of the group, “it might be a good idea if our guests were shown to their suites. Give them a chance to settle into the atmosphere, digest everything they’ve learned, before dinner tonight?”
“An excellent idea!” Scaramouche announced, gleefully. “You do all look as though you could use some rest, before the festivities begin in earnest.”
Steve gritted his teeth so hard he could feel it in his skull.
And then - completely against his will - he looked up at Tony.
His lungs froze as their eyes met, Tony’s brow melting into an expression that he could read so clearly, even in this state-
I know it’s stupid to go along with this
But I think it would be marginally more stupid to fight this right now
And I really want to get out of this room.
Steve let go of a heavy sigh. He was immediately resistant to the idea of playing along with this - not only because they could be walking into a trap, but because Steve hated the idea of endorsing this ridiculous, self-important behaviour-
He wanted to refuse out of spite. Because he was petulant like that.
...But what could he say?
...No, really - just think of what he could say, if he tried to say anything.
...And he also really wanted to get out of this room.
So, out of options, Steve just nodded.
*
Bucky rather liked his room.
It wasn’t the sort of place he usually liked; usually, Bucky felt uncomfortable in fancy places like this. Not that he’d been to many… But on those rare occasions, he’d spent the entire time feeling anxious that he was about to spill something, and vaguely irritated by the pretension of it all, and generally wishing he could be anywhere else.
But this room was… Well, it was a suite, actually. And it was huge… And uncluttered, and light, and… soft… Comfortable to be in.
...And, of course, he was on drugs. That probably had something to do with it.
It seemed to Bucky that the effects were coming in waves, rather than wearing off. There had been moments when he felt remarkably lucid, and moments when he felt overwhelmingly panicked…
And moments, like this, when he simply felt happy and calm…
He didn’t even jump when someone rapped, frantically, at his door.
...He just strolled over and opened it.
He barely had time to recognise who it was before Steve was powering past him, striding urgently through to the living area and stopping in front of the couches. Then he turned to Bucky - with such an exaggerated look of exasperation that Bucky almost giggled again - and simply threw his arms out theatrically, what the actual fuck is this?
“I know, right?” Bucky offered, with a self-conscious shrug. Steve shot him an unimpressed glare.
“We’re stranded on an alien planet where the air is drugging us, with no real idea what the fuck we’re here for, and no control over what the fuck we’re doing,” he huffed, indignantly. And then the stubborn expression folded into a sullen grimace, before he fell into the seat behind him, and covered his face with his hands. “Oh… He hates me,” he groaned.
“He doesn’t hate you,” Bucky sighed - not bothering to ask who Steve meant.
“He does hate me,” Steve sulked, dropping his arms so that he could stare mournfully at the ceiling. “And I don’t even know what would be worse. If he’s just always hated me, since the moment I met him, and I’ve spent the last three years being an idiot. Or, if it would be worse if he did actually get to like me for a bit in the middle there, because actually he likes me fine when I’m not being an asshole to him - but then I just couldn’t help being an asshole again, and screwed the whole thing up. And I really wish I could just stop talking,” he surrendered breathlessly.
“O-kayyy,” Bucky breathed, sloping over and falling into the couch beside him. “Well, for a start, he doesn’t hate you. You know, he would never have invited me to move in with you guys, if he didn’t think of you as a friend-”
“I don’t want to be his friend,” Steve moaned. “I want to touch his hair…”
Steve’s cringe flickered deeper, his whole body clenching inwards with the anxiety of what he’d just said out loud.
Officially speaking, he’d never told Bucky about his hopeless crush on Tony Stark - although, of course, they both knew that he knew. But speaking it into existence was different, and Bucky understood that. He knew why Steve was so reluctant to acknowledge this, to make it real, to make it fully a part of himself…
Unfortunately, right now, he didn’t have the choice. Apparently.
“And if I ever say that to him, it’s just going to make everything even more awkward between us, and then he’s going to start avoiding me completely, which would be worse than him just ignoring me mostly,” Steve went on, like the words were being physically dragged from him. “And you’re wrong, anyway. He probably would have asked you to move in with him, and helped you. He’s always taking in random strangers, and helping people just because he can. He asks everyone to move in with him. Except me.”
“... You literally live with him, though,” Bucky reminded him.
Steve sighed impatiently, you know what I mean
Bucky gave a little shrug, I really don’t
“Well, Nat spied on him for weeks, and called him a self-destructive textbook narcissist that wasn’t allowed on the team - and the next time he sees her it’s ‘hi, how are you, let’s go drinking, let me try and set you up with Bruce.’ Wanda literally tried to kill him, and then two minutes later he’s redesigning a whole floor of the compound just so that her room will be close to everyone else's. You turn up, new to the 21st century, and it’s all calm reassurances and ‘I bought you the entire Disney Animation Collection’-” He cut himself off with a huff, clearly mortified. “And I’m glad about all of that, I really am. I’d say if I wasn’t, because apparently I can’t help saying everything right now. And I am glad he’s welcomed all those people, and I think all those people deserve that kindness, it’s just - when I turned up in the 21st century, all I got was ‘what’s your thing, Pilates?’ and ‘Maybe they should’ve left him on ice’. And I know I was an ass to him, too - but-” And then Bucky saw him pinch his lips together so tightly that he had to wonder if he’d drawn blood.
“Well, did you ever think that maybe he just thought about how he was when you two met, and then he did better next time?” Bucky suggested, knowing that he wanted to help Steve out of this but still not capable of figuring out how. “...Or, you know, maybe Tony does treat you differently to everyone else - but maybe that’s actually because-”
“I don’t really want to talk about this,” Steve winced. “I just can’t stop talking about this. But I want to stop talking about this. I don’t even know why I’m thinking about this, when we’re on an alien planet, and I should be thinking about that - and, also, why is everyone naked here?”
Bucky blinked. And then a cluster of disconnected memories came back to him…
Now that he thought about it, he knew that Galileo had taken them on a walk through the city, from the sleek corporate building they’d apparently arrived at to their hotel. He had no idea how long the walk had been, or the route it had taken, because there were whole chunks of it where he’d completely zoned out…
But he remembered some of it.
And, now that Steve mentioned it…
“Yeah, there was a lot of... brightly coloured lace…”
“No, there was very little brightly coloured lace, covering very little,” Steve corrected. Bucky snorted a laugh.
“So you’re a prude now?” He challenged, sceptically.
“I’m stranded on an alien planet, with Tony Stark, and I’ve been dosed with a truth serum,” Steve reminded him. “Ideally, I would like to think about sex as little as possible.”
Bucky took a moment to sort through that random assortment of recalled images…
The groups of people walking through the streets wearing elaborate lingerie…
The images being played on the sides of the skyscrapers…
The range of items so casually displayed in store windows, and the shameless claims spelled out beneath them…
“...Yeah, you might be screwed on that one,” he conceded.
“You think?” Steve snapped, sarcastically. And then he softened, and sighed, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Bucky smiled, “I’m not paying you any attention anyway.”
That time, Steve laughed.
“Oh, what the hell am I going to do?” He moaned, after a moment.
“Well… Maybe this is the drugs talking… But maybe we just have to go with it, and wait until the drugs stop talking,” Bucky shrugged.
“That’s not helpful,” Steve remarked, and then winced, and then threw Bucky another apologetic look, again, sorry. Bucky smiled indulgently. And then, as he was trying to think of what would be more helpful, Steve went on, “...And whatever I do, it’s going to involve talking to Tony, and then I’m going to blurt out the more inappropriate thing possible, in the worst possible way. And then the ground won’t open up and swallow me…” he lamented.
Bucky reached over and gave his shoulder a reassuring pat.
He did consider asking whether that would really be such a bad thing.
Or pointing out that, seeing as standing there like the cardboard standee from a customs checkpoint apparently hadn’t worked, it might be time to try something else-
But he got the impression that wouldn’t be considered helpful either.
So, he said nothing.