Note: I really enjoyed writing this, and I hope you enjoy reading it. Feed the author with those lovely buttons at the bottom, if you like it? ;) *heart eyes* Happy Holidays, everyone! :)

This was filled for the WinterIron Holiday Gift Exchange on Tumblr/AO3. My giftee/prompter was MassiveSpaceWren, and the prompt was as follows...

'Bucky gets triggered into being the Winter Soldier while on an Avengers mission, where Tony either takes him down in a fight or uses some special words to stop him, which leads to some bad consequences. The rest of the Avengers didn't know about Tony's and Bucky's arrangement and assume Tony's attacked him without reason, and Tony is already feeling kind of guilty.'

"It was the sort of bone deep emotion that made him want to hold her(him) tighter with one hand, and draw a sword against the world with the other."
― Jeaniene Frost, First Drop of Crimson

Fuck.

They'd never thought it would come to this.

When they had set this plan in place, it had been as a failsafe. A last resort. A safety net. Something to be used when there was nothing else left to do, when all hope of anything else working was gone.

Well… considering the honest to God clusterfuck that was their lives?

They should have seen it coming.

As it was…

One Tony Stark, a.k.a. Iron Man, was barreling straight for one James Buchanan Barnes, a.k.a. the Winter Soldier, and he wasn't holding back any of his speed.

Tony had been clear on the other side of the university complex when he'd heard James switch to a private communications channel and whisper, "Help." That word alone would have had him racing towards the other man in the blink of an eye, as he was now—or at least wanting to, desperately, and doing so the first chance he got that wouldn't put anyone at risk of dying—because the Winter Soldier never asked for help. Never asked for it that way, at any rate. Never issued it as a one word plea, no intonation required to know what was meant.

James knew how to ask for help, but this… this was so much more. And fuck, the way he said it, as if he had seen his worst fears come to life before him—

It could only mean one thing.

And that thing spelled danger.

Danger for the team, danger for civilians, danger for James.

Not just physical danger, either. No, if this happened… if nothing that Tony was about to try was going to work, pulled straight from their carefully-laid plans, then he feared that this would break James. It would break him, tear him asunder, and scatter him to the winds. He would never heal, if this happened to him again.

And neither would Tony.

So there Tony was, about to implement part one—and hopefully the only part—of his and James' plan.

In T minus ten…

"Iron Man, where are you going?"

Eight…

Tony didn't answer. There wasn't time, because if he took the time, that could be the difference between life and death for someone, anyone, even one of the team, and that was the single most important thing that James wished to prevent.

Seven...

So he focused, and aimed, and used his body, with the suit he had created those long years ago, as the weapon he had forged itself, and himself, into.

"What the—" Clint's voice. Ever-observant, he accused, "He's aiming straight for Soldier, Cap, what the fuck?"

Four…

"Man of Iron, why do you do this?" Thor inquired, completely confused as to why, but knowing exactly what he was doing, it seemed.

Well.

He so wasn't looking forward to the fallout of all this.

Still, he'd known exactly what he was getting into when he'd agreed to James' request, and he would say yes all over again—again and again and again, if that's what it took to keep the other man alive. To keep the man he'd come to… come to…

Three…

Fuck, he couldn't even say it in his own head, but he knew, he knew in his heart, exactly what he felt.

Two…

Tony slowed down just enough so that he wouldn't kill the man upon impact, but allowed for enough force for what he fervently hoped would be enough to stop all of this before it even had a chance to begin.

"Stop!" barked Natasha in a last ditch effort, and even her normally cool tone of voice sounded angrily bewildered. "That's an order, Iron Man!"

Well. He was so fucked after this. Nothing unusual. Ever since… well. No time now.

One…

"Tony, please—"

Zero—

At the last possible moment, James twisted just enough to practically slither sinuously around Tony, wrapping his arms around both of the suit's legs, and then squeezing—it was like a vice, and Tony wasn't sure if he was actually hearing it with his own two ears or if it was just his mind playing tricks on him, but he could almost swear that he heard the suit, actual gold-titanium alloy, creak beneath the pressure of the grip.

Then he was flying.

Rather, he was flying right into a building.

And not under his own power.

Fuck.

James was lost to the Soldier.

Tony only had time for that one thought before he impacted into the side of one of the old brick buildings, careened through three more walls, and then came to a juddering stop on the flagstones of an inner courtyard.

"What the fuck was that, Iron Man?" Cap snarled. Tony could practically feel the rage pouring off of him even over the comms. "Soldier? What was that?" he asked, his voice less… well, less 'Cap' and more 'best friends forever.'

Steve was met with silence.

"Soldier, come in, do you read me?" Tony could hear Steve asking, as he—somewhat unsteadily—got to his feet, still reeling from his impromptu joyride through half a building. After another beat of silence, Steve ordered, "Thor, give me a lift to Soldier. I want to see if his comm unit is malfunctioning, and we'll go from there."

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Cap," Tony warned as he brushed uselessly at the brick dust coating his flashy suit and then shot straight up into the bright blue sky.

"And why should I listen to you?" Steve shot back quickly. "You attacked him for no reason!"

"Captain," Thor interjected.

"I was trying to head this off at the pass!" Tony snapped, his frustration only aimed halfway at Steve. The rest was at the fact that James was no longer where he'd left him.

Well, he supposed it made sense.

"The hell gave—"

"Captain, please, this is of the utmost importance." Steve was interrupted again by Thor.

"What?" Steve snapped.

"The Widow has been engaged by the Soldier," he reported mournfully.

"I fucking told you," Tony choked off into the comm before he shut down the team's line and reopened only his and James'.

"James, come on buddy," he began imploringly. "Don't make me do this."

Silence.

Tony could finally see where James and Natasha were fighting, their stupid grappling hand-to-hand combat getting them up close and personal with each other in a damn alley that seemed to be a custodian's entrance, and there was no easy way out for either of them—not one that wouldn't leave them exposed to the other. Tony knew their styles enough that the only way they were walking out of that alley was if the other was incapacitated…

…or dead.

Nat was a fucking beast, trained by the Soldier himself during part of her childhood, and she could hold her own, but Tony knew exactly who was going to make it out of there alive—no contest whatsoever—if the fight was allowed to go unassisted, because there were fucking Hydra goons rushing up to their location.

Tony dove down for James for the second time that day, but this time it was in an effort to save Natasha—well, to save James, to save Natasha, and to kick Hydra's ass. In that order. Or, well, something like that.

He was nearly a split second too late.

Shoving her out of the way and rolling them over earned Tony the same position she had just been occupying, including the hand that was coming for his throat. Well, at least his was protected by metal, unlike Natasha's very human, and very vulnerable, throat.

The metal would last just long enough for his purpose, and hopefully he'd still be able to fight afterwards—because fuck, the bad guys were coming out of the woodwork—and fuck he was talking, talking, talking to himself, why wouldn't his brain just shut up…

"Fuck," he said out loud, one last time, as the Winter Soldier's grip started to tighten…

He seriously didn't want to fucking do this, but James had trusted him, had encouraged him even, to know when the time was right. Plus… James would hate himself—no matter how ridiculous it was to feel guilty for something done to him—if the team was distracted by him during one of his… episodes. He would count every person injured, every bit of collateral damage done, and wonder how much of that could have been prevented if he hadn't lost control, or if he hadn't been reined in soon enough by Tony.

So Tony needed to man the fuck up and do this.

It took all of a second for that to rush through his mind, James' hand starting to tighten and push the suit's durability to the limit, and another second for Tony to offer up a silent apology to his friend—and to his teammates—for what was about to happen next.

"Soldat," Tony barked out, and James stilled for a moment. That moment was all Tony needed, though, to start on the words that James had asked Tony to instill in his mind with the help of B.A.R.F. as a stopgap measure while they were still trying to root out the other words—the words that Hydra had just used during this battle to take control of James. "Carousel, famine, lilac, tranquillité, mirror, castello, modernity." He said the words in a rush, hoping against hope that his and James' plan would work.

They had never had a chance to test it before, and it wasn't like James would willingly let the Soldier loose to confirm that everything was working smoothly. Tony had wanted to, said he'd be safe, but James had point blank refused, an odd expression just barely tugging at his features.

James went completely still above him, and then stated, perfectly calm, "The Soldier is at your disposal. What would you have him do?"

And if that fucking wasn't the fucking creepiest fucking thing in the fucking world, Tony didn't fucking know what was. Because he didn't have that blank look in his eyes like when they'd first seen him under Hydra control—he was undeniably James, Tony could see it in the way James looked at him, but he was also… not. But it was James, and James was… James was his, and he needed to protect him, and if this was how Tony protected him, then this was how it was going to be.

Tony swallowed everything he wanted to say, swallowed the fear that James would stay like this forever—they hadn't been able to work on that without throwing him into this state in the first place, but they had talked about it, worried about, planned around it—he swallowed everything, because he knew they needed to finish this battle first. Before Hydra could get the better of them.

Plus, he'd just switched back over to the team's comm line, and things sounded frantic.

"James," Tony began.

The other man simply stared at him.

Fuck, this sucked. But there was a battle going on, and their friends and colleagues needed them, needed the Winter Soldier and Iron Man to join the fight. So he just fucking had to suck it up and do this.

"Let's do this. Soldier—" James perked up at that, and oh god, that was just too freaky, "—the Captain needs you on his six. Do you remember the objective of this mission?" James nodded curtly. "Follow the objective, and follow the Captain's orders. Your earpiece should be tuned to the team's channel, and if it isn't, do so immediately. Protect your teammates, protect civilians, mitigate collateral damage, aim to capture and not kill enemy combatants if at all possible. Go!"

And with that, the Soldier was off of him, and moving in the direction of where he'd last seen Steve. Within moments he'd disappeared from Tony's sight, and he was left to pick himself up.

Before he could jump back into the fray himself, Natasha was in his face. She stared at him in that carefully blank way that she had mastered, and Tony was immediately glad for the faceplate of his suit.

Tony realized right away that Natasha had heard and witnessed everything that had just occurred, and his mind flashed back over everything he'd said and done.

"We'll talk about this later," she said after a few seconds of tense silence, giving him a curt nod. And then she was running off, in the opposite direction from where James had exited.

Tony let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, clenched his eyes shut, hard but brief, whispered, "Forgive me…" without care of who would hear him, and then threw himself into the air—and into battle.

Well… after first making a pass over James and Steve, to make sure everything was alright. And it was. So far. The Captain and the Soldier were fighting back to back, moving in sync, as they always had. It was quite a thing to see. He was glad that Steve hadn't second-guessed James' reappearance and had just gone with the flow so far, as it was better for all of them to get this wrapped up as quickly as possible—and later they could toss around recriminations and accusations and hateful words, but at least then James would be safe. At least then they would all be safe. That made it all worth it.

Within moments Tony was back in the air, taking out opponents and calling out enemy movements to his teammates. The Avengers heard him—he could see them reacting to what he was saying—but no one spoke directly to him, no back and forth, not like they normally would.

Tony couldn't blame them. He really couldn't.

He'd done something despicable in their eyes, taking control of James at his most vulnerable. It didn't matter that he hadn't taken advantage of James, that he wasn't taking pleasure from the situation. It didn't matter that after the first time he'd called out for James to duck, and he'd followed his order without a single ounce of hesitation… it didn't matter that he'd told him, gut twisting and bile trying to rise up his throat, "Soldier, follow the Captain's orders," and then didn't say another word that could be construed as him giving orders to the man.

None of that mattered. Because Tony Stark, the man who was only tolerated by his team, had done something to the man they'd all grown to love as a friend—and something… more, to Tony.

At least he could finally admit it.

But fuck if this didn't hurt, knowing what he'd done to James, even if it was consensual, even if they'd agreed on it beforehand.

Even if it was better than letting the true Soldier loose, controlled by Hydra like he had been when he was about to choke the life out of Natasha, no remorse in his cold, hard eyes.

Even if it was better than letting James have more blood on his hands, something he'd never be able to get over, barely able to handle what he'd already done before under Hydra.

Finally, the battle was winding down, the remainder of their enemies being chased down by S.H.I.E.L.D agents, tased, and then dumped in the back of vans to be carted away and never see the light of day again.

It was usually a sight that Tony took great enjoyment in, but today… this time he set himself down gently on the rubble-strewn street, near to where James and Steve were standing, breathing hard, as if they had run for miles and miles and miles.

But it didn't stop Steve from staring miserably at James, as if he had no idea what to do, as if his friend was lost to him again.

And that really wouldn't do. Steve was probably upsetting whatever was left of James inside.

Tony strode forward in the suit, and put a hand on James' shoulder, squeezing it lightly, flipping his faceplate up and smiling tentatively, unsure of the reception he would get; unsure of who would be greeting him.

That was all he got.

Tony didn't even get a good look into James' eyes—couldn't see if he was more Soldier, or more James—before he was being shoved back by Steve, the Captain's shield shoved into his chestplate giving the other man plenty enough leverage to push even Tony's suit back.

Everything moved so quickly from there.

One moment he'd been touching James' shoulder, and the next he was being shoved back by Steve, then Thor was touching down just behind and to his left, Hulk crashed down to his right, Natasha and Clint were suddenly right behind Steve, peering over his shoulders at Tony—Clint's expression stony, Nat's curious—and Sam and Wanda were moving in from further away.

Tony saw, for a split second, the anger on Steve's face, the words he wanted to say—to shout, to scream, to yell, to accuse—and then, again, Tony's world moved quickly, so quickly, and then there was James—no, the Soldier—standing between Tony and the Captain, fucking baring his teeth at the man, and Steve's eyes were so shocked, and hurt, so very hurt, and Tony was just so fucking done.

He was so fucking done with all of this.

Tony disengaged the locks on his suit, and let the front disassemble from around him seamlessly as he stepped out from within it. Tony spared only a single glance for Steve who, he was actually rather satisfied to note, was caught between the anger of moments before and—even if it was a small amount—fear for Tony's safety in the presence of the Soldier, outside of the Iron Man suit.

The Soldier tensed up, trying to look in all directions at once, realizing he—and Tony, who he obviously wanted to protect, which was really quite… lovely, honestly—was surrounded on all sides. The Soldier knew them as allies—the few times he'd… had incidents, he'd come to know them as friends, had learned that they were. But now… now they wanted to hurt—or at least that was the way the Soldier saw it—Tony, and the Soldier was having none of that.

But no. No. Fuck that. Tony was a big boy. Tony could handle his comeuppance. He would answer for what he'd done, and explain it all, and the Soldier better fucking get used to it. He wasn't going to order the man to do so, because that would be blatantly unfair, taking advantage of him like that, but he would find a way to make him understand, pending they couldn't get James back right away. And when James came back, Tony would leave it up to him if—and only if—he wanted to tell the others what they had decided, agreed upon, and done.

Tony walked right up into the Soldier's personal space, sliding right in between him and Steve, a bare few inches between them, and looked right up into his eyes. The Soldier stared right back, and that's when Tony knew that this was more their Soldier, than the Winter Soldier, still, and thank fuck for that. The latter would never have let his eyes rest in one place for so long, never let himself become so honed in on one person with others surrounding him, in such an open place at that.

He would have never let another person place their hands on his hips like Tony was doing now, and when Tony was met with a small, shuddering release of air, just a little, he let one hand curve around James' hip, over the part of his shirt not covered by kevlar, and rubbed his fingers over the small of his back.

And with that, without any words at all, just that brush of his hand on his back, the Soldier was gone, and James—just James, his James, nothing but James—was back, he was here, that was all him flooding into those beautiful grey eyes, oh thank god.

"James," Tony whispered, never breaking eye contact. His other hand joined the first at James' back, this time tugging at the shirt so that he could touch the skin beneath because he needed to feel him beneath his fingers; needed to make sure he was here, really here, really in his arms, that he was okay, and fuck he needed to tell James how he felt before he lost him—what if Hydra had succeeded in capturing the Soldier today, what if…

"I could have lost you," Tony said quietly, his voice shaking only slightly.

It was enough for James to offer him comfort, resting one hand on Tony's hip and squeezing lightly, and bringing his metal one up to rest on the side of Tony's neck, thumb swiping along his jawline.

Tony's eyelids fluttered at the sensation.

"I trusted you, Tony." They were the first words James had spoken to him since right after he'd hijacked the Soldier's programming, and they nearly made Tony break with everything he could hear behind those simple words. "I always trust you. And you proved yourself worthy of that trust today—to me, and to the team. That's how I see it, and that's how it is. I needed you, and you came through for me. Like you always come through for everyone. You always do. So that's that, end of story, okay? You'll always be there for me until we can fix the original issue, and afterwards, I know you'll still have my back."

Tony couldn't handle what he was hearing, couldn't handle the intensity of the way James was saying them, so he chose to ignore most of it. He knew it was a bad habit, but so sue him. He wasn't trustworthy, not for the team, not for everything. He'd proven that too many times. But… but he would always try for James. Even so… "Never make me do that again," Tony returned heatedly, fingers digging into James' skin. "Promise me, James. Fuck, what if, what if…" He broke off, words failing him at the mere thought of what could happen.

James ducked his head just a little, and then used the hand that was on Tony's neck to lift his chin so they could look into each other's eyes.

There was a split second where Tony knew exactly what was going to happen before it did, but he did nothing to stop it. Well, he wasn't even sure if he could have, but, well, he didn't want to. That moment, though, when he knew it was coming? It was the single most charged moment of his existence, he swore.

And then it was happening. James' lips were on his, and they were swallowing up the noise of surprise that Tony still somehow managed to make even though he knew it was coming, he swore, and their arms were wrapping tight around each other instinctively, not wanting to let each other go. Not yet. Not for a while. A long while.

James devoured him, showing him exactly how much he wanted him, desired him, cared for him, maybe even more, and Tony just wanted to stand there and let him do so, but he couldn't. He wanted to devour right back, to show James that he was wanted, needed, just as much, and so he did, digging his nails into the other man's skin, nipping his teeth into James' lower lip, sliding his teeth along the seam of his lips and demanding entrance, and then drawing it all back, toning it all down, and languorously swiping his tongue within James' mouth, against the other man's tongue, and tasting every single bit of him there was on offer in that moment.

At least, everything that was on offer in public… well.

Tony pulled away with a gasp—hazily ignoring the stares and incredulous noises coming from their teammates—his breathing hard, and took great pleasure in the fact that James was breathing hard as well, looking even just the slightest bit flushed as he pressed his forehead against Tony's.

"I will free you," Tony breathed against James' lips as he leaned in to brush a kiss over them again.

James rearranged his arms and pulled Tony in snug against his chest, head tucked under his chin, arms wrapped tight around him, and lips brushing his hair as he said, with complete conviction, with complete trust, "I know."