Project: A Stark Winter

Chapter One: The Grief Game

Grief is a lot like that thing you used to play when you were a kid; the Game. The rules being pretty simple, think about the game and you lose. You were losing the game pretty often these last few weeks constantly thinking and dissecting the loss of your father. Your home at the compound had been left in a state of disrepair, so you and the rest of the remaining team were forced to move into the old Avengers Tower. After the funeral, tensions with the team and especially Steve were high. It was as if you were on a cycle of emotions, constantly running through being sad, angry, reminiscent, and then back to sad. Gradually you had fallen into a routine of just avoiding as many people as possible and burying your grief as far down as it could go. Your tears have finally run dry after what felt like a tsunami of nights filled with sobbing and clawing at your throat attempting to catch your breath between broken gasps. You thought that those tears would last forever, but now you just felt empty. Unfortunately for Steve, this left him as the easy target for the unleashing of the pent up feelings. He found himself at the receiving end of a dozen arguments and continued to console you during each one, but you could tell his patience was wavering. After one particular argument you had decided to postpone any wedding plans in a dramatic fit of rage. Most of the time you acted out to get the comforting side of Steve, not able to stop yourself from reacting this way. What broke your heart the most was that he just nodded his agreement and went back to what he was doing. He picked his battles as far as your 'tantrums' were concerned and as each day went by, the divide between you grew ever wider. Now, lying in your shared bed with Steve, you tossed and turned endlessly. You released soft sighs and groans and you reshuffled your pillows for the tenth time. Finally breaking the silence Steve speaks softly, "Let's get out of the city tomorrow. We can go visit Pepper and Morgan. I'm sure they would love to see you." His voice, though calm did not comfort you the way he was intending. Sighing heavily you sit up and pull the comforter to your chest. As you do Steve turns a lamp on the side table on and turns to face you. His face shows weariness from nights just like this one. It's not like you're intentionally being difficult or trying to take things out on Steve, but your father's death has consumed your life and changed you in what feels like an irreparable way. There was a part of you that just couldn't stop the anger from bubbling up and lashing out.
"Steve, please don't start." You whisper while rubbing your temple, a headache beginning to form behind your eyes.
"Y/n, I'm just saying that it might be good for you to-"
"Good for me to what? Huh? Get out of the tower and go to another place that will remind me of what I've lost?"
"That's not what I meant by it and you know that."
"No, what you meant was that my moping over my dad dying has become so unbearable for YOU that you think I should leave."
"God, y/n. Of course not." He reaches for you then and pulls you closer, encouraging you to rest your head on his chest. Steve slowly trails his fingertips over your skin and smooths your hair. You sigh and melt into his touch. Closing your eyes you savor the affectionate touch he is providing as a temporary reprieve from the mental pain you're enduring. Settling in, your eyes drift shut m; finally finding peace enough to doze off.
"Pepper called me today. She's worried about you, that's all." Steve says, breaking the silence. Eyes snapping open m, you feel tagt piece shatter and huff out in frustration. You hadn't spoken to Pepper since the funeral for your dad. Every time she called, you would watch it ring as a photo of her and your dad smiling into the camera lit up your screen unable to answer. You didn't know what to say or how to have a conversation anymore. Your temper was too short and eventually silence would end up filling the lull in any conversation you attempted. Even just a few days ago as you bravely went to a local coffee shop downtown the grief followed. Being Tony Stark's daughter used to come with perks of being able to draw looks of admiration or jealousy from others and now all it brought you was looks of pity. Worse than that would be the fans of your father who created memorials all around the city to commemorate the brave sacrifice he made. Every tv show, book, movie, magazine emblazoned with the reminder your dad was gone. You had never felt more alone surrounded by the face of your father.
"I know this is hard on you right now, and I'm here to help you anyway I can, doll." Steve's warm baritone voice breaks you from your thoughts.
"Steve, I'm just really trying to not think about this whole thing. It's too much right now." Steve pulls you back slightly and holds you at arm's length peering into your eyes.
"But I think that's part of the problem. We don't hide from a fight, remember?"
"Babe, I know you think that this is something that needs to be fixed but what if I'm unfixable?"
"You're not broken," Steve says resolutely.
"I think I am. And, I already said I don't want to talk about it." You groan as you untangle yourself from his arms and go to stand by the window. You're wearing one of Steve's white t-shirts as a nightshirt that hangs just past your hips. The chill of the night leaves goosebumps across your arms and legs as you stare out over the city. Watching the lights in the distance you imagine yourself down there living life as someone else. It was Saturday so you knew there were parties and dance clubs where people were partying their night away oblivious to the pain you were stuck in.
"Y/n are you even listening? I'm trying to have a conversation with you." Steve's agitated voice once again pulls you from your subconscious. You turn to look at him, arms crossing over your chest in brief defiance.
"I said I don't want to talk." You state shortly to Steve which sets off a brief flicker of anger through his chiseled features. He stands then and runs his hands through his dirty blonde hair in frustration, tugging slightly on the roots.
"I'm trying to help you. Why can't you just, for once in your life, listen?"
"No Steve, you're trying to therapize me. There's a difference." Your voice drips with sass and annoyance. "You couldn't possibly understand how I'm feeling right now or ever, okay? I'm not hiding, I'm coping. I'm honestly trying my best, so just lay off." You shout at him, the headache fully formed at pressing on your temples feels like it could make your head burst.
"I've lost people, too. Tony included. Want to run though that list? Don't make this into something it's not." He shouts back while closing the distance between the two of you.
"He was my DAD, Steve. It's not the same!" You yell backing away and putting your hands up in mock surrender, wanting so desperately to be done with this argument. As you try to move away Steve grabs both of your forearms in his large hands and holds you in place. The anger that moments before was boiling under the surface is fully noticeable now. You knew you were pushing him too far but couldn't stop yourself from lashing out.
"Then talk to me! If I don't know how you're feeling, tell me. Grief is nonlinear and I'm just trying my best to understand." He says sternly, but calmly in an attempt to reign in his anger.
"Did you learn that in your post-snap support group." You snap sarcastically.
"Jesus Christ, y/n. Why does everything have to be like pulling teeth with you? You're upset that you lost your dad, which I get. But you don't have the right to be angry for how I chose to cope with thinking I had lost you."
"Sure, a support group full of people that look at you like you're god and a sexy little shield agent to warm your bed. Must've been so depressing. Me? Just hung out with the old man in space while we slowly starved." You snark venomously hands landing on your hips in typical Stark fashion. Your eyes bore into Steve, holding him in his spot.
"Wha- I didn't sleep with Sharon. And what did you want me to do? I thought you were dead."
"What did I want you to do? Mourn me for longer than a month I guess. You might not have fucked her. But you did kiss her. Hey, keep it in the family I guess." You seethe in quiet rage, shaking as you step toe to toe with the super soldier. Steve visibly flinches at your last comment, but grits his teeth and chooses to excuse your misplaced anger yet again. He sighs as he drops his hands to his sides in exasperation.
"I don't know what you want me to say. Yes. A brief kiss that we shared in grief over all we had lost. That is why I know that what you're going through won't last. We can work past it." He pleads desperately as he pulls you into his arms, your body shifting against his reluctantly.
"Well, I came back, after twenty one days, by the way. My dad isn't so..." Steve pulls back and stares at you in silence. There's that lull again. You think to yourself. Great work, Ms. Stark.
"Whatever, Steve. I'm just over this." You say half-heartedly as you push him away, grab your phone from the nightstand, and stride toward the bedroom door. Before you could open the door fully he's behind you slamming the door shut again. You both just stand there in shocked silence, his chest flush against your back. You can feel his heaving breaths behind you and his body shaking slightly.
"Let. Me. Out." You say angrily beginning to feel caged in. Your heart begins to beat wildly in your chest in an out-of-time rhythm.
"Can't do that doll." Is all he says in response, body unyielding.
"If I agree to go to the cabin tomorrow will you let me leave?"
"If that's what it takes for you to go, then yes."
"Fine, I'll go." He releases his hold on the door and steps away.
"I love you, y/n. I'm just trying to help." Steve says in an almost whisper. You can hear the strain in his voice and know he is crying.
"I don't deserve you, Steve. I don't think I ever did." Is all you can manage as you choke back the tears when the words tumble free. Not daring to turn to look at the man whose heart you're hurting, you open the door and slink into the hallway of the tower closing the door behind you. Your bare feet make a soft pattering sound on the cool tile floor as you make your way through the hallways to the balcony. As you step through the glass sliding door you feel your knees begin to wobble. Using one hand to clutch your phone and the other to brace yourself against the stone exterior of the tower balcony you slide to the ground pulling your knees to your chest. Each breath you take feels panicked and shallow. Tears prick your eyes as your vision becomes blurry. It felt like you were suffocating, losing more air than you were bringing in. The world around you spinning and compounded with the still growing headache that pushed on your temples and felt like an ice pick to the skull. Seemingly out of nowhere a voice breaks through your chaos, "You okay sugar?" The deep timbre of the voice mixing with the confusion swirling in your mind of what was happening. Your heartfelt like it was seizing in your chest as your hands grew numb. Still gasping for air you feel two hands wrap around your body and lull you into their owners' lap, one warm hand and the other metal. You realize that Bucky Barnes had found you out on the balcony, his strong hands holding you tightly in an embrace of comfort so firm that you felt your heart beginning to relax. Safe you thought to yourself briefly before the wave of anxiety crashed down once more.
"You're having a panic attack, sugar. Listen to me, focus on my voice, okay y/n?" You nod deftly as your body and mind struggle against each other. Using his metal arm he holds your hand in his and begins gently tracing a pattern over each finger.
"Okay, good. What are five things you can see?" Not sure how to answer, you shake your head and continue grasping at your chest.
"Don't overthink it, just name 5 things you can see." He states again, calmly while his free hand rubs your back in small circles.
"Uh...the gr-ground, the s-sky...." You begin between heavy breaths.
"Keep going." Bucky prods you on gently.
"The fur-furniture....the city l-lights.."
"One more thing, sugar. You're doing great."  He says encouragingly.
"You. I see you."
"Alright, what are four things you can touch?"
"Ahh, my shirt...um my hair...my phone...your hand."
"Great, now, three things you can hear?" Bucky prods gently, his hands gently tracing your skin. Your breathing had slowed considerably but your heart still hammered within your chest. Bucky moved his flesh hand to your pulse point.
"You're doing great, sugar. Three things you can hear." You lean back against his chest and close your eyes, tuning your ears to the sounds around you.
"I can hear...the sounds of the city. Like cars and sirens, and people." Bucky remains silent waiting for you to speak. His arms loosen slightly on your body.
"I hear music playing. Somewhere. And I hear your heartbeat." You finish quietly. Breathing stilling ever so slightly.
"Two things you can smell?" Bucky says in a quiet voice, calmly talking you down from your chaotic episode. There's a hint of worry in his voice as he asks, which you briefly note.
"Uhm I can smell Netto's pizza truck. Like a hint of tomato and baking bread." You say with a soft chuckle not sure if your answer is satisfactory.
"And?" He prods yet again, but gently. You lean into him further and breathe in his scent. He smells of freshly cut pine trees, with subtle scents of amber and vanilla.
"Pine trees...kinda smells like winter.." you say with a soft smile. Fully calmed now, you turn in Bucky's lap to look into his eyes. He looks down at you thoughtfully as he releases his hold on your body completely. You shift out of his lap and sit by his side, back against the stone of the tower. As you watch him, Bucky sits rigidly next to you. His hands have returned to his lap, where you had once been sitting, as they toy with a rip in his jeans.
"Thank you, Bucky. I-I don't really know where that came from. I don't think I've ever really had a panic attack before. How'd you know how to do all that?" You say and gesture vaguely to the air around you. He doesn't say anything at first but looks to be stoically pondering your thank you.
"I used to get them a lot. After...everything. I've gone through my fair share of being therapized. This was the only really helpful thing I've learned. It works." He says with a shrug, eyes darting to yours and then quickly looking away.
"So you heard us fighting. Again." You sigh deeply and rest your head back against the cool stone. Your eyes scan the night sky above you. Beside you, Bucky does the same as he rests his shoulder against your own.
"He's trying his best, you know?"
"I know."
"Y/n. If you're not going to let him help you, you have to stop punishing him for how you're feeling."
"Bucky, please..."
"No, someone has to tell you that you're being a brat. Everyone can't walk on eggshells around you forever." Bucky stated bluntly, tilting his head to look at you. Nodding your head, you knew he was right.
"Fuck. I didn't used to always be such a bitch, did I?" Bucky chuckles lightly and shakes his head.
"Nah, you were pretty nice to everyone. You were kinda a bitch to me though." He snorted and tilted his eyes to meet yours with a playful smirk.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Did you expect a gift basket after your alter ego tried to kill me?"
"You seem fine to me."
"I had to cuddle on a car door with Steve, Nat, and Sam sliding down a fucking highway after you ambushed us."
"Doesn't sound like me."
"Sam's ass was in my face."
"Now THAT I will apologize for." Bucky smiles widely as he laughs at your frowning face. His laughter was contagious and soon you joined him in a stomach clenching fit of giggles. As you both quiet down and lean back, your mind wanders back to the reason you were out here in the first place.
"What's the problem, Stark?" Bucky asks softly.Your eyes look into his searching for the answers you so desperately need, as you bite your lip to stop the quivering.
"When does it stop? The grief." You softly plead as tears begin to fall. They slide down your cheeks and softly patter against your shirt.
"It doesn't stop. You just learn to live with it. Damn it, doll. I'm still working through all my darkness and loss. Losing people change us, deep down. You won't be the same y/n you used to be. But Tony wouldn't want you to wallow too much. You have so much life ahead of you yet." With that Bucky puts his arms around you and tilts your face to look at his. As you gaze into the eyes of a man who has been through so much hell, you feel truly seen and understood. At this moment everything else is melting away and all that's left is two lost souls in a cold winter's storm trying to find themselves. As your faces grow ever closer to one another your heart rate picks up again, but for entirely different reasons. Bucky's lips inches from your own you ask, "What was the one thing? We counted down from five but you forgot one." Eyes locked on his you move closer as your arms find their way around his neck. In his eyes, you can see an inner war raging one of want and desire battling out over common sense. This wasn't right and you knew it, but there was a magnetic pull to the man in front of you. One of shared understanding of loss. Cursing under his breath Bucky moves his metal hand to caress the underside of your jaw while his other moves to your lower back pulling you dangerously close. You feel the warmth that is Bucky enveloping you as you shift back into his lap, nearly straddling him, the nightshirt leaving very little to the imagination. Your fingers gently play with the dark tuft of hair at the nape of his neck as you tilt your forehead against his. With a soft groan Bucky mutters "Taste, one thing you can taste..." and with that, your lips are on his in a heated kiss. You feel Bucky's arms slide up under your shirt and grasp at your breasts tenderly at first but quickly turn needy and wanting. You open your mouth in a soft moan of pleasure as he pinches your right nipple between the fingers of his metal arm. He takes this as the opportunity to deepen the kiss as his tongue dives into your mouth hungrily. You explore his mouth with your own as you taste a hint of whiskey and smoke and mint. Your hands wrap themselves into Bucky's hair as you pull him deeper into the kiss, tangling into his dark brown locks. You grind yourself into his lap, desperate for more when suddenly you're dumped onto the cool ground. As you process what just happened, Bucky stands quickly and heads for the sliding doors. He turns to you briefly saying, "Glad you're feeling better, Stark. Get some sleep." He turns on his heel and strides back into the tower and out of sight. Reaching a trembling hand to your kiss bruised lips you let out a soft string of curses. What the fuck am I doing? You mentally scold yourself. Taking your phone in your hand you unlock it and tap on the voicemail icon. You hit play on the only saved voicemail in your inbox and rest your head in your hands.

* beeeeeeep*

Hey speck, it's me, your dad. Apparently, you don't have a good sense of direction or time cuz Peps and I are waiting for you by the fountain-like we said. I tried to convince Peps to go and eat without you but she said we had to wait since this is your graduation dinner, lame. Didn't you know that your genius, talented, and rich father hates to wait? Hmm? Oh, wait, ah there she is! My beautiful, smart, MIT grad, takes after her old man, heh. Ah, you look so cute trying not to trip over your own feet running over here. Okay well, I'll see you soon hahaha. I love you, buh-bye.

*click*

You listen to the voicemail and then hit play again, tears staining your cheeks as you listen to your dad's voice, so happy and full of life. It isn't until the sun begins to rise that you move to go inside and get ready to drive to the cabin that your dad once called home.