Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/4709309.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage
  Category:
      Multi
  Fandom:
      The_Avengers_(Marvel)_-_All_Media_Types, The_Avengers_(Marvel_Movies),
      Snowpiercer_(2013)
  Relationship:
      Steve_Rogers/Tony_Stark, James_"Bucky"_Barnes/Steve_Rogers, James_"Bucky"
      Barnes/Tony_Stark, James_"Bucky"_Barnes/Steve_Rogers/Tony_Stark
  Character:
      Tony_Stark, Steve_Rogers, James_"Bucky"_Barnes, Natasha_Romanov, Nick
      Fury, Bruce_Banner
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_Post-Apocalypse, Alternate_Universe_-_No_Powers
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-09-02 Updated: 2015-09-22 Chapters: 2/? Words: 6777
****** Survive (As Best We Can) ******
by Gir_Hugs
Summary
     Tony shifts restlessly in his sleep and Bucky runs a soothing hand up
     and down his side. A low whine rips from Bucky’s throat when he feels
     the bump bump bump of Tony’s rib cage. “What are we doing?”
     “The best we can, Buck.”
     “Are we?” Bucky looks up, eyes darkened by haunted shadows.
     “We’re surviving,” Steve whispers and, back here, surviving really is
     the best they can do.
Notes
     Snowpiercer AU. For those unfamiliar: post-apocalyptic world where
     the world has frozen over and the only survivors are on a train. The
     survivors are separated into the front end and the tail end; people
     in the tail end live in horrific conditions.
     WARNING: There will be character deaths and violence and disturbing
     themes consistent with this au.
***** Prologue *****
PROLOGUE
 
The lights are flickering overhead, sending the back cars into grim darkness at
random intervals. The sounds of crying women are quieter than before, and there
aren’t any whimpering children any more.
Steve clutches the jagged piece of metal tightly, hoping that the torn denim he
has wrapped around it is enough to keep the sharp iron from slicing through his
hand. He peeks his head out of the cramped alcove into the main compartment;
Bucky has been gone for too long.
“Hello, there.”
Steve startles and jerks his head around. There’s a group of three men, all
much bigger than Steve, creeping closer. Steve has all but a moment to study
them - blood on their clothes, hands, and mouths; wide, crazed eyes; real
knives in their hands - before he’s abandoning his hiding spot and running down
the main left passage.
Angry growls and heavy footfall chase after him as he runs. When he feels one
of the men getting too close, Steve ducks and rolls under one of the center
bunks and comes up running the opposite way in the parallel corridor. He can
hear the men cursing as they scramble across the center divide and give chase
once more.
Adrenaline pumps through his body, but Steve knows the energy surge won’t help
for long. Steve was sickly and weak before boarding the train; being stuck in
the train’s even more squalid conditions certainly has not improved upon
Steve’s health. His lungs are burning and his heart beats harshly against his
chest.
Steve runs as fast as he can - passing by compartments full of starving,
unsympathetic people - and darts into a dark side passage when he sees it. He
tries to quiet his harsh breathing as much as possible lest the noise give him
away. Backing further and further away from the main walkway, Steve lets out a
stuttering sigh of relief when he hears the men’s heavy boots stomp past his
hiding spot.
The blonde rests his forehead against the cold metal wall for a moment,
reveling in the fact that he’s still alive. A muffled noise has Steve snapping
back to attention as he looks further down the narrow passage he’s hiding in.
“Hel-” Steve starts nervously, eyes straining to see in the dark. “Hello?”
There’s another quiet noise and Steve slowly creeps further into the dark. “Is
someone there?”
He puts his hands out in front of him, feeling his way along until he hits a
wall. He hears the noise again - it sounds like sniffling - louder this time
and tilts his head to the left. Running his fingers along the side wall, he’s
shocked when he feels an opening below his waist level. Kneeling down, he
traces along the outer edges of the opening and determines it’s pretty small.
A small, raspy cough sounds and Steve peers curiously through the opening. His
eyes have adjusted to the dark as much as possible and he can just make out a
bigger compartment at the end of the four foot long crawlspace.
“Who’s in there?” Steve calls out, his voice shaking slightly from nerves. He
figures it’s most likely a woman - or maybe a small teen like Steve himself -
back there since the crawlspace is too narrow for an adult male, but in these
desperate times, everyone is dangerous so Steve remains wary.
Just as Steve is weighing the pros and cons of actually investigating further
or going back to where Bucky left him, he hears a hitching cry.
“Oh my gosh,” Steve freezes in shock for a moment before hastily scrambling
through the crawlspace. He’s thinking he heard wrong, that it can’t possibly be
- but no, there it is again. The very distinct, assumedly extinct, sound of a
baby crying.
As soon as he’s through, Steve is searching frantically. There’s a small window
up near the ceiling of the compartment that casts the cramped room with silvery
moonlight. The light is helpful, but it’s the small cries coming from a pile of
thick blankets in the corner that leads Steve to the baby.
And it is, a baby. Small and weak, but alive and beautiful. Steve can feel
tears prickling in his eyes, a wide grin stretching across his face.
“How are you alive?” Steve asks in wonder.
The babies had been the first to go. It’s merciful, they had said. There was no
formula for them and the mothers were too malnourished to produce milk. They
were starving…so the babies had been first, and then the children followed. And
now, it was just anyone weaker.
Steve reaches out towards the tiny little thing, brushing careful fingers
through soft, downy locks. The crying subsides and the baby settles, only
making an occasional whimper as it stares up at Steve with big, bright eyes.
And Steve is so caught up in this tiny, beautiful miracle that he doesn’t hear
the shuffling behind him. Doesn’t register the approach of someone until
there’s a strong grip on his shoulder and an angry - protective - growl in his
ear.
“Get away from him.”
Steve yelps and spins, pushing the attacker away on instinct. Wide, shocked
eyes stare up at him and Steve stares back at the small woman at his feet.
“Oh-” the woman lets out a small gasp, her eyes dropping down. Steve looks as
well and crashes to his knees before her, his hands fluttering around the sharp
metal lodged in her stomach.
“No,” Steve shakes his head in denial, vision getting cloudy as panicked tears
form. “No, no, no.” He hastily strips his jacket off, pushing it to the wound
to try and staunch the heavy flow of blood. “I’m sorry.” The woman pitches to
the side and Steve rolls her onto her back. “I’m sorry, please, I’m so sorry.”
“Tony,” the woman looks to the side and Steve blinks through his tears to see
the baby.
“He’s fine,” Steve rushes to reassure her. “I didn’t, I would never, hurt him.
I was just-”
“Hush, darling,” the woman’s lilting voice soothes his panicked rambling.
“Misunderstanding,” she pats his hand. “Bring him here.” Steve doesn’t budge,
not wanting to let up on the pressure to try and stop the bleeding - oh god,
why won’t it stop.
“Bring Tony here,” the woman repeats, this time with a bit of steel in her
voice. Steve shuffles to the corner and lifts the baby out of the blanket nest.
He tries not to gag when he realizes he’s smudging blood all over the poor
thing.
Cradling the baby in his arms, Steve holds the baby - Tony, she called him Tony
- close enough for the woman to see.
“Ah, there’s my little duckling,” the woman smiles, eyes soft and fond. There’s
a minute, where she just looks at him, and then her eyes close and her mouth
sets in a grim line. When she opens her eyes again, there is a fire in them
that makes Steve, stupidly, naively, think that maybe she can pull through.
“He’s yours now.”
Steve stares back at her, blinking in shock, certain he must have heard her
wrong.
“No, that’s,” Steve shakes his head. “You’re going to be-”
“What’s your name?” She cuts him off.
“Steve.”
“Alright, Steve. I’m dying,” she says and Steve opens his mouth to protest.
“I’m dying, Steve,” she repeats in a harsh whisper. “I’m dying,” she repeats
once more, a solemn note of acceptance in her voice. “And Tony is going to need
someone to look after him. I need you to look after him for me, Steve.”
Steve shakes his head, but clutches Tony closer to his chest. “I can’t. Please,
don’t ask that of me. I can’t,” Steve pleads, wanting her to take this
responsibility back. He doesn’t think he’s going to last much longer himself;
how can he possibly keep a baby alive?
“Promise me,” she grasps onto his arm, fingers barely able to keep hold. Her
face is getting paler by the second and her chest heaves as she tries to draw
in her next breath. “Promise me, Steve.”
Steve feels hot tears sliding down his cheeks, but he gives a shaky nod of
acceptance. “Okay,” he agrees, sounding young and unsure even to his own ears.
The woman’s fingers tighten around his arm and Steve shies away from her
pleading gaze. He recognizes the enormity of this moment, feels panic clogging
up his throat, but then Tony squirms in his hold and Steve looks down at this
tiny, innocent, trusting little baby in his arms and knows…
“I promise,” Steve vows fiercely, to the woman and the baby both. “I’ll take
care of him.”
***** If I Stumble... *****
Chapter Notes
     Chapter Warnings: Consensual sex between minor (17) and adult;
     implied child abuse.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Looking back, it’s unclear how Steve, of all people, had become the figurehead
of the Revolution. Before he’d hit his series of growth spurts, most of the
tail-enders hadn’t even noticed him beside Bucky. And even after he’d gained
seven inches in height and packed on sixty more pounds of mostly muscle, he
never took on any responsibilities in regards to the uprising.
Raising Tony had been his top - his only - priority and the other tail-enders
knew that.
It’s the small moments of happiness combined with periods of immense tragedy,
promises kept and manipulations wrought, that changed Steve’s goal from making
sure Tony survived to giving Tony the life he deserved.
And being stuck in the back sector of Hydra Corp.’s global train, Insight, is
not the kind of life Tony deserves. Tony deserves so much more…and so Steve
fights.
 
———
 
“Here.”
A small piece of paper is pushed into Steve’s hand and he carefully smoothes it
out to read the printed message.
A present to help you - Compartment 30, Locker 17
“Do we know what’s there?”
Fury wheels himself to the side table and waves Steve over. “Schematics say
that Compartment 30 is some kind of prison.” Brushing a finger over the faded
map, Fury points to the compartment in question and reads the brief description
underneath. “Two gun cabinets at each end. Thirty cryo-cells spanning the left-
hand side.”
“So the present in Locker 17 is actually a person?”
“Most likely.”
“But we have no idea who.” And given where the person is located… “Are you
honestly suggesting we trust someone we release from a prison cell?”
“I’m suggesting that we trust the message.”
Crumpling the piece of paper in his hand, Steve stares down at Fury with
narrowed eyes. The man doesn’t so much as blink as he meets Steve’s critical
glare.
“You’re awfully trusting of the messages.” It’s an accusation Steve has been
wanting to throw for a while now, but he’s managed to bite his tongue in the
past. This though…this is putting a lot of faith in a message from some unknown
Hydra defector. “Why is that?”
“I have my reasons.” Over the years that Steve has gotten to know Fury, the man
has proven to be extremely distrusting of people in general and not without
reason. But Steve can’t recall a single instance in which Fury has shown even
the slightest doubt about intel provided by the messages.
And even though Steve doesn’t fully trust the messages himself, he does respect
Fury’s opinion. So, for now, he lets Fury’s cryptic response stand, but it
still grates on his nerves to do so.
 
———
 
They wait a week to make sure the protein blocks are a stable food source, that
Hydra Corp. is finally taking care of the back sector too, before deciding it’s
safe enough for Steve and Tony to come out of hiding.
“There’s a doc,” Bucky leads Steve down the walkway and towards the very back
of the train. “Some German guy. Erksine, I think? Anyways, he was busy treating
all the amputees before,” he glances towards Steve’s haphazardly wrapped arm,
mouth turning down into a frown, “but now Fury wants him to do check-ups on
every tail-ender. That’s what we’re calling ourselves.”
“Who’s Fury?”
Bucky nods over towards some adults gathered around a pile of supplies and
taking inventory of the meager belongings. They all seem to be deferring to the
black man sitting in a wheelchair, red bandage wrapped around his stump of a
right leg. He doesn’t seem even the slightest bit inconvenienced by his
handicap as he barks out orders.
“That’s Fury,” Bucky points towards the black man. “He was the first.”
 
———
 
There’s pressure building in Steve’s head, compounded with the pressure he
feels sitting heavy on his shoulders. The other tail-enders might view Steve as
the face of the Revolution, but more often than not, Steve just feels like
Fury’s puppet.
Knowing full well that Tony is always willing to lend a sympathetic ear to
Steve’s venting about Fury, Steve heads over to the teen’s workspace.
“Why is Fury so god damned secretive?!”
The outraged words are met with a quiet whimper and Steve freezes in the
entryway of Tony’s workspace when he sees Bruce hop off the stool and duck
behind Tony. All of his ire is doused by sickening guilt and Steve immediately
hunches in on himself to appear as non-threatening as possible. Tony flashes
him a frustrated glare before turning to Bruce with a smile and kneeling down
to be eye level with the cowering child.
“Do me a favor, Brucie, ‘kay? Bring this,” Tony pulls a few sheets of paper off
his small table and pushes them into Bruce’s hands. “To Fury.”
Bruce shifts uncomfortably on his feet before leaning in to whisper something
to Tony.
“Nah, Steve would never hurt me,” Tony shakes his head emphatically and Steve
tries not to throw up as his stomach drops. “No matter how angry he is.”
The five year old glances over Tony’s shoulder and Steve tries to put on a
reassuring smile despite how horrible he’s feeling.
“Sure?” Bruce asks, licking nervously at his busted lip.
Tony smiles at the kid sadly and softly brushes a thumb over Bruce’s bruised
cheek. “Promise.”
Stepping back, Steve gives Bruce plenty of room to exit, hating himself when
the small boy pushes his back up against the wall and hedges around Steve. As
soon as the boy is gone, Steve slowly steps into Tony’s workspace, his
shoulders slumping with guilt. The teenager refuses to look at him, back tense
as he reads over something in the large textbook on the table.
“How’s he doing?”
Tony sits heavily onto the stool, a loud thump sounding as he does so. “As well
as can be expected.” Tony runs a frustrated hand through his hair and grits his
teeth into a snarl. “Should’ve killed that kronol junkie sooner.”
There was a point in the past where Steve would have objected, would have tried
to teach Tony about how that wasn’t the way things were supposed to work. That
the Old World had practices like trial by jury and innocent until proven
guilty, but Steve long ago accepted that the Old World is well and truly gone.
“Maybe,” Steve agrees, wrapping his arms around Tony and pressing a comforting
kiss to the notch of his spine.
Even if they succeed in ending Hydra Corp.’s reign of oppression, the New World
they build will be different. It will be a world fitting of these times and the
people they are now.
 
———
 
“What are we doing, Stevie?” Bucky sounds lost as he watches over the small
child between them. Tony shifts restlessly in his sleep and Bucky runs a
soothing hand up and down his side. A low whine rips from Bucky’s throat when
he feels the bump bump bump of Tony’s rib cage. “What are we doing?”
“The best we can, Buck.”
“Are we?” Bucky looks up, eyes darkened by haunted shadows.
“We’re surviving,” Steve whispers and, back here, surviving really is the best
they can do.
“We’re dying,” Bucky hisses, fingers tapping against Tony’s ribcage in
emphasis. Steve wraps an arm around the child and shifts closer, offering what
little body warmth he can to stop Tony from shivering. When Steve looks back up
to his friend, Bucky is staring intently at the gnarled scar spanning across
Steve’s arm.
“It’s better than before.”
Bucky traces a gentle finger over the scar, mouth pressed into a grim line.
“But not good enough.”
 
———
 
“Hey buddy.”
Steve shifts, eyes blinking open slowly when he hears the hushed whispering. A
body presses up against him as Tony shuffles over to make more room on their
cot. There’s a small silhouette hesitating to climb up next to them, but Tony
makes encouraging noises and coaxes Bruce under the thin blanket.
“Are you sure Steve won’t mind?” Bruce asks, voice small and nervous, panicky
in the way he always gets around unfamiliar people. He’s comfortable with Tony,
has learned to trust the teen through countless interactions in the past few
years, but he’s only been tangentially aware of Steve as Tony’s friend or as
the leader of the Revolution.
“Wanna hear a secret?” Tony whispers conspiratorially, waiting until Bruce nods
his head and leans in close. “Boss man’s a secret cuddler.”
Steve opens his eyes just enough to see through his eyelashes and catches sight
of Bruce pushing himself up onto his elbows to peek over Tony’s shoulder at
him. The small boy raises a disbelieving eyebrow at the teen.
“Really?”
In order to lend credence to Tony’s claim, Steve lets out a sleepy grumble and
wraps an arm around Tony’s waist, dragging him even closer.
“Told ya so.” Amusement plays at the edges of Tony’s voice and Steve presses
his face into the back of the teen’s neck to hide his grin from Bruce. Tony
squirms and laughs when Steve’s beard rasps against his bare skin.
“Now come ‘ere.” There’s more shuffling as Bruce settles in and Tony makes a
show of lifting Steve’s arm with exaggerated difficulty and settling it back
down so that Steve is curled around both Tony and Bruce. The two adults wait
with baited breath as Bruce tenses, deciding for himself whether he will allow
the comforting touch. After a moment, all tension slips from Bruce’s body and
he tucks his head under Tony’s chin.
“G’night.”
 
———
 
Steve hisses out a swear as he tips over the side of the bed and lands roughly
on the floor. Neither Bucky or Tony so much as twitch, both dead to the world
and blissfully unaware as they sleep on.
Since his last growth spurt, Steve is now taller and bigger than Bucky, so
fitting all three of them on a single bed has become somewhat of a challenge.
Tony usually sleeps in the top bunk, but he’s recovering from a cold and likes
the additional comfort and warmth of sleeping between them. Even though Bucky
will never admit to being a cuddler, he likes having Tony in their bed so that
he can wrap himself around the boy and sleep peacefully, comforted by the
knowledge that Tony is okay.
Grumbling to himself, Steve levers himself off the floor, looks woefully at the
pile of warm blankets, and wonders how difficult it would be to free one from
the ridiculous tangle of limbs. With a longing sigh, Steve snatches his and
Bucky’s jackets from the bedpost and climbs up to the empty cot above. The
jackets definitely aren’t good replacements for warm bodies and blankets, so it
takes a while for Steve to fall back asleep, his body shivering as it adjusts
to the lack of soothing warmth.
 
———
 
More than half of the tail-enders are still gathered in the compartment after
the morning handout, huddled in small groups and chatting quietly as they
mindlessly chew on their protein blocks. Despite the large number of bodies
gathered, the back sector is still uncomfortably cold. Steve can’t remember the
last time he felt warm.
He takes stock of those gathered, feels the oppressing lethargy that hangs over
the tail-enders like a fog. Faces are growing more and more gaunt, cheek bones
becoming more prominent. The population has been slowly recovering but the
supplies provided by Hydra Corp. have practically been cut in half over the
last few years.
That’s why Fury keeps shortening the deadline to the Revolution. Preparation
must be thorough, of course, but there is a rabid desperation brewing within
the tail-enders. Steve is confident they’ve forged enough bonds amongst
themselves that they would never fall back into the horror of the Starving
Time, but Fury isn’t willing to take any chances.
“Steven!”
The blonde turns to see May ambling towards him with an earnest, mothering look
on her face.
“Miss May,” Steve leans down to kiss her withered cheek and smiles when it
earns him a small laugh. The old woman hasn’t been the same since Ben passed
but it seems she is in one of her happier moods today. “What can I do for you?”
“You can take this,” she pushes a protein block into his hand and Steve frowns.
They’d just gotten a new message yesterday. The next one shouldn’t have come in
yet.
“It’s to eat, Steven,” May states wryly when she sees his confusion. “You need
to be as strong as possible for when the fighting starts.”
“No,” Steve tries to hand the protein block back but May staunchly refuses to
accept it.
It isn’t surprising that May is putting someone else’s well-being above her
own. She and Ben had always taken it upon themselves to lookout for the younger
folk, but Ben used to make sure May never took on more than she could handle,
never gave away more than they could do without. Now that he’s gone, Steve has
to keep an eye out that she doesn’t sacrifice too much.
“You have to eat, May.”
“And I will, during the evening handout.” When Steve tries to hand the protein
block back once more, May just swats his hands away like he’s a naughty child.
“I don’t need to eat as much as you. I was going to give it to Tony, but I
couldn’t find the skinny runt around.”
“May, I really must insist-”
“Rogers!” Hammer suddenly pops up beside them, latching onto Steve’s arm and
dragging him away. Steve tries to escape but Hammer’s fingers just hook in
tighter to Steve’s jacket. By the time Steve looks back, May is gone, and Steve
resigns himself to suffering through whatever Hammer feels the need to discuss.
 
———
 
“He fell asleep during Hammer’s lesson again.” Steve moves to take Tony from
May’s arms, thinking the boy must be too heavy for her to carry, but she just
tuts and nods for him to move out of her way. “Says Hammer is a bumbling
idiot.”
“We can talk to him.” He and Bucky have already tried to tell Tony that it’s
inappropriate to belittle other people’s intelligence, but Tony is insistent in
his stance that Hammer isn’t worth listening to. Thankfully, Tony is entirely
respectful during his lessons with Erksine, Selvig, and Ben, so Bucky and Steve
have been a little lenient in his disregard of Hammer.
They make it to the trio’s unit and May settles Tony down on the bottom bunk.
“Don’t tell Hammer, but I’m fairly certain Tony could teach the lesson better
than he could. I know the boy’s already read the textbook Hammer teaches from.”
May gets that pained, longing look on her face that she often does when
watching over Tony. “Too clever for his own good, this one,” she whispers,
brushing gentle fingers over Tony’s cheek.
“He reminds you of someone,” Steve observes carefully, recognizing this might
be too tender a topic to discuss.
“We had a boy, before, Ben and I. A boy very much like yours - mischievous,
brilliant, sweet, beautiful.” May’s eyes fill with tears and she offers Steve a
bittersweet smile. “His name was Peter.”
 
———
 
“Hammer needs more steel for the Gate Buster,” Steve says, ticking another
discussion point off his mental checklist.
Sadly, Tony hadn’t been around to make mocking faces behind the weasel of a man
and so Steve had suffered through Hammer’s blabbering alone. It was somewhat
fascinating that Hammer could make eating protein blocks an even more
unpalatable experience than usual.
“We’ll be scrapping the Gate Buster,” Fury scans the list of supplies Red hands
him. “Have him break it down and reconstruct the metal into panels that the
woman and children can use for a barricade.”
“What?” Steve flounders, wondering why Fury is suddenly changing the plan.
Steve, of course, has no objections to it since he’d been trying to get Fury to
invest in some defenses for months now, but Fury hadn’t so much as budged on
his all-out offensive plan before. “Why?”
“Because Tony thinks he’s finally figured out the circuitry map.”
“Is that so?” Steve tries to keep the frown from forming on his face. The news
is good - better than any of them had hoped for really - but it is
disconcerting that he is hearing about the update from Fury rather than Tony
himself. Steve didn’t even realize Fury and Tony had been meeting without him.
“Yes, Tony believes he can rewire the gates so that he’ll have control over
when they open and close. But as far as he can tell, only the first three gates
run on the same circuit loop. Once we have control of those cars, he’ll have to
open the subsequent gates one by one.”
Steve doesn’t even attempt to keep the frown off his face at the additional
news. With this information comes the realization that Tony will most likely
have to be part of the front line. Steve can’t order him to stay behind, stay
safe. 
“I’ll have to give him proper training,” Steve thinks aloud. The play fighting
he’s indulged Tony with over the years won’t be enough to keep the boy alive in
a real fight.
“Red’s already been teaching him how to handle a knife,” Fury admits calmly.
It hadn’t escaped Steve’s notice that the two teens had been sneaking off
together, but he’d just thought they’d been rekindling their friendship, or
maybe - Steve staunchly ignores the way his gut tightens in jealousy at the
thought - finding physical gratification in one another. If he’d known Red was
training Tony how to fight, he might have put a stop to it.
Steve looks at the silent shadow just behind Fury’s shoulder, feels a sense of
betrayal lance through his chest. Red just meets his gaze evenly, face not
showing even the smallest hint of remorse.
“I thought we agreed that Tony would be kept out of this as much as possible,”
Steve says lowly, frustrated when Fury gives him an almost disappointed look.
“I think I’ve indulged your idyllic delusions long enough, Rogers. Tony is
involved. And sacrifices are going to be made. You, more than most, should
understand that by now.”
Steve is fully aware of how manipulative Fury can be. In the days following the
Odinson Uprising, everyone had been in a state of shock. But Fury…he had keyed
in on Steve, one of the few strong men left, and made sure the blonde was not
consumed by grief. Because grief is a paralyzing emotion. Grief would have made
Steve useless.
And Fury had so skillfully chosen the right things to say - Don’t make Bucky’s
sacrifice worthless. You have to stay strong, for Tony - known just what fears
to exploit in order for Steve to shake off his grief and embrace his anger, to
pick up the fight against Hydra Corp.
And those same fears Fury had exploited then, he continues to use now.
“I’m trying to make sure that Tony is not one of the inevitable casualties.”
“Because you actually care,” Steve sneers at Fury, “or because he’s necessary
to the cause?”
Fury doesn’t even bother responding; they both know the callous answer.
“Do you want to take over his training, or do you want Red to continue?”
Steve can feel the panic building in his chest. He sees how easily Fury has
backed him into a corner. Fury might have needed Steve in the beginning, but
the Revolution is bigger than any one person now. Neither Steve or Fury has the
power to stop it. The tail-enders will revolt. The only questions remaining is
when and how many people will die in the process.
“Red,” Steve swallows thickly, hating the idea of leaving Tony’s safety to
someone else. But Red…Red is the best fighter among them. “Have Red do it.”
 
———
 
Steve startles awake to a pained scream from further down the train. It takes a
few moments for his brain to start firing on all cylinders, but then he quickly
rolls off the cot and checks the bunk above. An empty bed with rumpled sheets
greet him and he feels his heart drop into his stomach.
Crouching down, Steve reaches under the bottom cot and pulls out their storage
box. “Wha?” Bucky grumbles, one hand reaching out to feel the empty spot beside
him. “Whatsamatta?”
“Tony’s missing,” Steve finally finds the knife and then pushes the box back
under the bed. “Heard yelling coming from Fury’s compartment.”
Blinking slowly, Bucky frowns as he tries to make sense of the words through
his haze of exhaustion, but then his eyes widen and he’s scrambling out of bed
and stopping Steve with a hand on his arm. “Give me the knife,” he orders, tone
allowing for no arguments. Steve is about the same size as his friend now, but
Bucky’s got years of fighting experience on him.
Fully aware that Bucky is far more deadly with the weapon than himself, Steve
carefully places the knife hilt in Bucky’s outstretched hand. An icy chill
seeps into their bones as their socked feet slap against the cold metal floor.
Before they get very far, they hear the light pounding of boots headed their
way and Bucky lowers into a defensive stance, knife held steady before him.
“Steve! Bucky!”
Steve pushes past Bucky, dropping to his knees and opening his arms wide to
catch Tony as the boy hurdles into them. There are tears streaming down his
face and blood on his clothes and they can barely make any sense of his
panicked babbling.
“Red…we were just playing…wanted to show me a hiding spot in the rafters…” Tony
shakes his head as if he’s trying to erase horrible images from his mind. “…saw
Sitwell sneaking into…Fury wasn’t even awake…and the blood…oh god, his eye…Fury
was yelling…and then Red…Red just attacked…” Tony is getting more hysterical by
the second and Bucky makes soft shushing sounds from beside them as he tries to
guide Tony’s breathing with slow instructions of ‘in,’ ‘hold,’ and ‘out’ so
that the boy doesn’t work himself into a full-blown panic attack.
Most of the tail-enders are awake by now, listening to Tony’s hysterical
explanation. There are grave looks and confused frowns all around. Thor listens
with an intent look on his face, but when Tony can’t seem to manage a more
intelligible explanation, he waves a hand for his followers to gather and then
heads off towards Fury’s compartment to investigate. Bucky looks after them,
feet shifting as if he wants to follow, but Tony’s crying has him anchored in
place.
“Tony,” Steve gently pushes Tony far enough away to get a better look at him. A
desperate whine rips from Tony’s throat as he tries to squirm back into the
safety of Steve’s arms, but Steve holds firm as he carefully pats the boy down.
“Tony, are you hurt?”
The boy shakes his head, his small chest heaving as he sucks in unsteady
breaths. “N- No, it’s not my blood,” he stutters, tears choking his voice. “I
think Red killed Sitwell.”
 
———
 
Ever since he left Fury’s command unit, there’s been a swell of panic building
in Steve’s chest. He ruthlessly shoves it back down and wraps his anger and
frustration around himself like a shield.
When Steve marches into Tony’s workspace, the teen doesn’t even bother looking
up from where he’s leaning against the table, studying the smattering of papers
spread across it. “What’s got your panties in a twist, Boss man?”
A frustrated growl rips from Steve’s throat and he clenches his hands into
fists, relishing in the sharp sting as his fingernails bite into the flesh of
his palms. “You’ve been training with Red.”
“I’m pretty sure you saw us skipping off together a few times,” Tony offers up,
casual as ever in the face of Steve’s accusation. “What exactly did you think
we were doing?”
Grinding his teeth together, Steve marches forward and slams his hands down
against the table; he takes sick satisfaction in the way his anger makes Tony’s
head snap up. The teen involuntarily retreats back a step, back pressing up
against the wall as he makes an aborted escape. Tony tries to play it off,
lazily crossing his arms over his chest and raising an unimpressed eyebrow, but
Steve can see the wariness in his eyes.
“I don’t know,” Steve leans forward across the table, papers crinkling under
his weight. “You two used to be friends. Maybe you were just hanging out.”
Tony snorts in derisive humor. “We aren’t kids anymore. We wouldn’t waste time
doing something so childish as hanging out.”
“Fucking, then,” Steve provokes, knowing full well Tony wouldn't and that his
own possessiveness wouldn't allow it.  But the idea of them fucking is still
less terrifying than the idea of Tony fighting. “That’s a little more adult,
isn’t it?”
He knows he’s made the wrong play by the way Tony’s eyes darken, his tongue
sweeping out to lick at his lower lip, hips pushing forward obscenely. “I think
I’ve made it blatantly clear that there is only one person on this god forsaken
train that I want to fuck, Steve.”
Tension crackles in the air between them, electrifying and stifling all at
once. Tony pushes off the wall with seductive grace, stalking closer with a
pleased grin on his face now that he thinks he’s got the upper-hand. Demanding
fingers tangle in his hair and Steve allows Tony to pull him down into a heady
kiss. Wrapping an arm around Tony’s back, Steve pulls him closer, satisfied
with the needy moan Tony emits as their hips brush together.
Steve wraps his other hand around Tony’s neck, using a thumb to tilt the teen’s
head up so he can lick into Tony’s mouth. Tony is quick to give up control,
going lax in Steve’s arms and the blonde lets out a satisfied rumble as he
moves down to scrape his teeth against the tendon of Tony’s neck.
“No more lying,” Steve orders, rubbing his stubbled jaw against Tony’s neck
just to hear the teen gasp. The teen digs his fingers into Steve’s arms in an
attempt to stay standing. “No more going behind my back.”
“Wouldn’t,” Steve presses forward and lifts Tony onto the table. Tony is quick
to wrap his legs around Steve’s waist and pull him in. “Wouldn’t have needed to
if you’d just let me fight.”
Steve gives a non-committal hum, dips his fingers under Tony’s many layers of
clothes, and curls his hands around Tony’s sharp hipbones. Jerking Tony to the
edge of the table, Steve thrusts his hips up and groans at the delicious
friction it causes.
“Don’t want you to fight,” Steve reaches a hand down to trace Tony’s hard cock
through his threadbare jeans. Tony whimpers as his hips roll upwards, pressing
his erection against Steve’s hand. “Just want you safe.”
“Safe isn’t a luxury we have,” Tony hisses the words against Steve’s neck, his
hips jerking up insistently. “Our survival is precarious.” His voice is low and
breathless as he groans the words into Steve’s ear. “But the Revolution can
change that. It can secure us a better future.”
Steve kisses him quiet, not wanting to hear anymore. Because he knows that.
Giving Tony the future he deserves is Steve’s entire reason for fighting, but
he never wanted Tony to get this involved.
Snapping open the button on Tony’s jeans, Steve wraps a hand around Tony’s cock
and starts jerking him off. A low whine rips through the air and Tony fumbles
to reciprocate, fingers shaking as he releases Steve from his tight jeans.
Caught up in his own pleasure, Tony’s hand doesn’t offer much friction, his
hold careless and loose, too teasing to get Steve off.
The air is hot and thick around them, the usual, persistent chill chased away
by their shared body heat. Beads of sweat drip down Tony’s neck and Steve laves
his tongue against pleasure-warm skin to taste it. He can feel Tony’s release
building, recognizes it in the way Tony’s lithe body shakes from waves of
pleasure. He’d fall apart if Steve wasn’t holding him together.
“Please…”
Stepping back, Steve ignores Tony’s bereft whine and roughly pulls Tony’s jeans
further down his thighs. The blonde drops to his knees and roughly grabs Tony’s
ass to draw him forward, his mouth hot and ready as he swallows Tony down.
“Fuck,” a hand curls into his hair and Steve hums his approval as Tony pushes
him down further. Glancing upwards, Steve feels his stomach tighten with
pleasure when he sees just how debauched Tony looks - hair a mess, warm flush
spread across his skin, teeth biting into his hand as he tries to stifle his
moans. It’s one of the most beautiful sights Steve’s ever seen.
Wrapping a hand around his own straining erection, Steve hollows his cheeks and
works towards bringing them both to completion. Bitterness explodes across his
tastebuds and Steve swallows down Tony’s thick release with heady satisfaction.
Steve’s body goes tight, hips stuttering forward as he comes, his release
splattering across the floor.
Tony’s cock softens in his mouth and Steve pulls off slowly, teasingly, tongue
laving lazily at the sensitive slit until Tony pushes his head away with a
whine. Steve laughs at that, voice low and rough and used, before pressing an
apologetic kiss to the soft skin of Tony’s inner thigh.
“Love you.”
 
———
 
Steve startles awake when he feels Bucky roll out of bed. “Where’re you goin’?”
Bucky quickly laces up his boots and then turns to tuck the blanket around
Steve. “Gonna meet up with Hogun for training.”
Shifting onto his side, Steve reaches a hand out and holds onto Bucky’s wrist.
“You’ve been spending a lot of time with Thor and his group.” He rubs a thumb
over Bucky’s pulse point, counts out the steady beat for a quiet moment. “Tony
misses you.” I miss you.
The bed dips as Bucky settles his weight onto the edge; he reaches out to clasp
a hand around the back of Steve’s head and presses their foreheads together.
“I’m fighting for him.” There’s a quick press of lips against Steve’s mouth and
he tangles a hand into Bucky’s sweater, wanting him to stay. “I’m fighting for
the both of you,” Bucky whispers the words against Steve’s lips, leaning in for
one more heated kiss before pulling away completely.
“Love you.”
Cold air sweeps in to fill the void left by Bucky’s warm body and a chilling
tremor rocks down Steve’s spine.
 
———
 
It takes them a while to get presentable again, wandering hands and lingering
kisses slowing the process. Steve feels light and sated, but he can see Tony
itching to say something. After the fourth time Tony opens his mouth and snaps
it closed without making a sound, Steve hooks his fingers into Tony’s belt
loops and drags the teen in.
“What is it?”
A thoughtful frown pulls at the edges of Tony’s mouth and Steve leans down to
kiss it away.
“Tell me.”
Tilting his head to the side, Tony studies Steve carefully, his gaze steady and
determined, more mature than Steve likes to give him credit for.
“It’s my fight too.”
Cold dread washes through him, icing over the fleeting warmth they’d shared
just a moment ago. Tony must see the distress on his face because the teen
heaves a sigh and reels him in.
“Steve…”
Allowing himself a moment of weakness, Steve tucks his face into Tony’s neck
and hides. Tony brushes soothing fingers through Steve’s hair, being the strong
one as he holds Steve close, holds him together.
“I’m going to fight, Steve.”
The words aren’t provoking or argumentative; they’re just a simple statement of
a fact that Steve has been trying his damnedest to deny.
Steve presses a kiss to Tony’s skin, memorizes the feel of Tony’s steady
heartbeat against his lips. With a shaky breath, Steve gathers his strength,
stands tall, and gives in. “I know.”
But I refuse to lose you too.
Chapter End Notes
     Chapter title taken from the song 'Help I'm Alive' by Metric.
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