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As ideas go, it turns out this hasn’t been one of his smarter ones, Tony realizes. He has a split second to think ‘OH FUCK’ before he hits the floor, hard, tackled by 260 lbs of solid muscle ex-assassin. There is psionic energy battering at his shields, tearing them up like they are made of tissue paper and Tony’s inner Guide yields, plastering himself all over the beautifulperfectMINE Sentinel. A bond springs to life between them, subtle as a freight train, and Tony is overwhelmed by his Sentinel’s emotional and psionical agony. He gasps, tries to struggle, but his Sentinel has him well and truly pinned.
“Guide!”
Another wave of emotional pain hits Tony full force and everything goes black.
Tony claws his way out of the deep dark pit of unconsciousness and instantly regrets it.
Something is wrong with his shields.
At least he thinks it’s his shields. Probably? Maybe?
Or not.
Cause his shields are kinda okay-ish, if you squint just right. Which Tony isn’t gonna do because his head hurts like a bitch and squinting would just make it worse, alright? He opts for not opening his eyes at all and just lies there, breathing, trying to figure out what has his psionic energy all scrambled up like a bad radio transmission.
He needs to fix this. Fix his shields before someone realizes Tony is a Guide and wouldn’t that suck big time? Tony didn’t spend the better part of his life working on making his shields impenetrable and undetectable - thanks, Blair - to now see it all go down the drain because of … Because of what exactly?
He still hasn’t figured it out.
Unless.
Unless he slipped.
Alcohol used to be his poison of choice, providing oblivion when dealing with the empathic input of the whole fucking city was getting to be too much and being in the same zip code as his father just made it all worse.
So maybe something happened and he slipped. Self-medicated again. He’s only human after all. But the thought is like a knife in his gut, and shame and disgust burn in his chest as he steels himself for the inevitable: having to face the world after spending the night getting blackout drunk.
He should probably get out of bed already. Because that’s surprisingly enough where he is. In a bed. Just, not his own? And not the med bay, either. The smell is all wrong.
“Sir, do you require assistance?” JARVIS asks.
Fuck.
Tony sucks in a breath and tells himself to stop being a coward. It’s not as if he hasn’t expected the question, honestly. These are the exact same words J always used whenever Tony had gone on a bender in the past. Passed out drunk somewhere and woken up without any recollection of the previous night.
“I’m fine, J, thanks. Just … wondering if it’s worth even getting out of bed if I can’t look myself in the eye.” Tony throws an arm over his eyes and stalls. He’s entitled, okay? Whatever the fuck led to him flushing his sobriety down the drain must have been pretty damn awful.
“How bad is it? How much did I drink?” Tony finally asks. No use in pretending any more.
“You did not have any alcohol, Sir. You did not break your sobriety.”
Tony sits up in bed abruptly, the motion sending white hot shards of pain through his head again.
What the actual fuck?
It takes a second until his vision clears enough to look around but when he does, his confusion reaches new heights. He doesn’t know where he is. He’s reasonably certain he’s never been in this room before. Which is surreal. Aside from the fact that Tony can see the hand of his interior designer in all of the furniture and JARVIS is there - how the hell can he be in a room in his own house he’s never been in before?
Tony should know the rooms in his own building, right? Maybe he’s got amnesia? Got into a fight with the monster of the week or something and got his brain shaken, not stirred? It’s a possibility.
“Where am I, J?” Tony asks, a little more agitated than strictly necessary. He’s in pain, he’s stressed and for some unknown reason he also feels strangely vulnerable. Like something is fundamentally, bone-deep wrong. But also … like something is missing. Something other than his memory. Something vital. Something that makes the pit of his stomach feel hollow and his hands clammy with unease. God, this sucks so much. And not in a fun way.
“You are in the bonding suite, Sir,” JARVIS replies, and manages to sound like Tony should already be aware of that fact.
“The bonding suite?” Tony parrots, and wonders how the fuck he ended up in here. He’d never wanted to set foot in the room he’d had the architects plan and build out of some sick sort of self-torture. Build a room he’d never get to use, rubbing in what he’d never get to have.
Hoping hurts. But being without a Sentinel hurts worse.
Not that hoping has done Tony any good, ever. But hey, he’s Tony Stark. He doesn’t do things by halves and being with someone who isn’t a perfect match is completely out of the question. So unless some sort of perfect Sentinel happened to miraculously drop into his lap during the night, Tony really fucking shouldn’t be in here, heaping emotional pain onto the physical.
“Why am I here?” Tony asks, irritably. God, his head hurts like a motherfucker and his insides feel like they are trying out a new origami pattern. What the fuck is wrong with him today if it isn’t a hangover?
“You were brought to the suite per your own protocol, Sir. You specifically said to make sure you go to the bonding suite to let the bond settle.”
“But I’m not bonded, J,” Tony snaps and runs his hands through his hair. “I think I’d remember if I completed a bonding ceremony and in case you hadn’t noticed: I’m alone. No Sentinel here. You see how that’s a bit of a problem?”
Tony vaguely remembers setting up a protocol in the unlikely event of him finding his Sentinel. Like, ‘yeah not likely to happen but let’s go with it anyway.’ And he figured if he ever managed to find a Sentinel who could stand to be bonded to him, find that elusive, perfect match, he probably should make an effort and actually spend some time with them.
“You sustained a mild concussion when Sergeant Barnes tackled you to the floor yesterday, prior to your bonding. It appears to impact your recollection of last night’s events. Sergeant Barnes asked me to relay his sincerest apologies for causing you harm. He wishes you a speedy recovery.”
“Wait, wait,” Tony holds up his hands, trying, and failing, to wrap his head around what JARVIS is telling him. “Barnes knocked me over, then we bonded, and now my brain is scrambled? Is that what you’re telling me?”
“That is correct, Sir.”
Oh fuck.
No, no, no. That can’t be right. Tony didn’t screw this up by getting insta-bonded to Steve’s childhood friend, turned brainwashed assassin, turned walking PTSD advertisement.
Even Tony isn’t that abysmally stupid.
On the other hand … there is that strange feeling. And his semi-malfunctioning shields. And the hollow feeling in his gut. And, yeah, sure, maybe he in fact is that stupid, if he’s being honest. If they actually managed to speed-bond somehow they must be an awesome match and Tony has never been good at denying himself awesome things.
Fact.
Tony takes a deep breath, closes his eyes and tugs at the peculiar feeling inside himself that he couldn’t quite identify but had thought to be faulty shields. Yeah, okay, no. Not faulty shields at all but a muted, solid connection to his Sentinel.
His. Sentinel.
He has a Sentinel.
Holy hell.
Giddy and a little bit curious, Tony pokes at the connection he can feel solid and comforting in his chest.
The weight of a strong, hard body on top of his own. The rush of psionic energy. The exhilarating feeling of recognition soaring through his body. The surge of possessiveness. The overwhelming feeling of rightness as the bond settles. The half-surprised, half-awed whisper of ‘Guide’. The feeling of belonging and peace where before there had been loneliness and an aching void, rapidly followed by so much pain it leaves Tony reeling. The deep seated need to soothe his Sentinel’s pain.
The rush of memories gives Tony vertigo but also leaves him aching and with a chafing sense of urgency. Yes, he remembers and yes, it’s glorious and not scary at all, but he shouldn’t be alone. Why is Tony alone? Where is James? Why is he not there?
Has something happened?
“Where’s my Sentinel? Where’s Barnes?” Tony asks and pushes the covers to the foot of the bed, along with the images of what they should be doing inside this suite. And it’s not Tony rotting away in bed by himself. But he doesn’t have time to daydream about getting fucked by his ridiculously handsome Sentinel.
Well, they can do that later, hopefully. First, Tony has to actually locate him.
“I’m afraid Sergeant Barnes turned himself over to the authorities at the local Sentinel/Guide center. He is convinced he forced himself on you and you submitted to this bond only under great duress. I believe there will be an investigation.”
“Like hell,” Tony snaps, a surge of anger and possessiveness overriding the pain in his head.
“This is ridiculous. He didn’t do anything I didn’t want him to - well, aside from giving me a concussion. But that’s beside the point. I’ve waited my whole damn life for my Sentinel, I’m not gonna leave him to some power hungry asshole who thinks he’s in charge of anything. They better not think they get to keep him,” Tony rants as he climbs out of bed and heads for the shower. “I’m surrounded by idiots. Overprotective, honorable, stupid fucking idiots. The lot of them. And I have to fix it. Again. Story of my life”
He drops his clothes carelessly to the floor and adjusts the temperature until the water is just perfect.
“J, have a car ready to take me to the Center in 20 minutes.”
It’s time to go get his wayward Sentinel back.
Fortyfive minutes later Tony steps into the local Sentinel/Guide Center. He’s talked Steve down from a freak out over not knowing Tony is a Guide and having brought Bucky to meet him. And he’s made sure that Blair and Jim will be at the Center shortly, just in case the Center needs to be bullied into compliance in different ways than money or violence.
By the time Tony reaches the front desk he’s had time to get worked up even more over the fact that someone thought it would be okay to keep his Sentinel and not just send him back home to Tony like the lost kid he is at heart. Did they even pay attention when he was pardoned and rehabilitated? The guy’s been through hell and back already. He doesn’t need any more of that shit.
“Hi… Aaron,” Tony greets the guy manning the reception desk with a quick look at his name tag. Tony gives him one of his insincere megawatt smiles. “I’m here to see my Sentinel. His name is James Buchanan Barnes. I’ve been informed that he’s at this facility. I’m taking him home. Please go and get him, I’ll wait.” Tony does his very best to sound like he is just making a polite request. No need to agitate anyone in case the Center doesn’t actually want to make a fuss.
“I’m sorry Mister Stark, but that won’t be possible.”
All right. No such luck, it seems.
“It’s Alpha Guide Stark, actually, and I don’t care what you think is possible. He’s here, he’s my bonded, I’m taking him home. Now get him. I won’t repeat myself again.”
Well, it took no time at all to get the thin veneer of politeness to slip and give way to the anger and steely resolve that’s lying beneath. What’s worse, Tony’s inner Guide is seriously pissed off at being dismissed and at being denied access to his Sentinel. Tony’s not used to having to deal with that side of his nature all too often, since his shields are usually impeccable and the Iron Man armor acts as an additional buffer during high stress situations such as fights.
Aaron grabs the phone and after a moment says, “Director Smith, we have a situation here.” He throwsTony a look. “Alpha Guide Stark is here and demands to see his Sentinel. I told him that’s impossible, but he won’t take no for an answer.” He listens for a moment, then hangs up the phone. “Director Smith will be here shortly. If you would just wait over there,” he gestures to a sitting area just across from the reception desk.
“I think not,” Tony replies and leans on the counter, crowding Aaron. He’s this close to losing his temper completely and only the thought of his own actions having consequences for James is holding him back from donning the Suit and breaking down doors in search for his Sentinel.
Fortunately for them, a man comes hurrying towards them before Tony’s patience runs out completely. Good, maybe now they are getting somewhere.
“Guide Stark, it seems there is some kind of misunderstanding here,” the man starts without greeting.
“Director Smith I presume. No misunderstanding. You have my Sentinel, I want him back. Easy as that. You go get him and I’m out of your hair in no time at all.” Tony does his very best to rein in his impulse to put his hands on the man standing between him and his Sentinel.
“As Aaron here already told you, that is not possible. Sentinel Barnes is not able to have visitors at the moment. He has turned himself into this facility, reporting to have forced a bond on a Guide. An investigation will be launched and once the findings are confirmed, we will decide what actions will be taken against him. And since you did not previously register as a Guide, your claim that he is your Sentinel is void. You may make an inquiry through the proper channels after registering.”
Tony pinches the bridge of his nose, battling another surge of possessive anger. “I want to go on record as being very patient with you, Director Smith. But that patience is running out fast. First of all: Of course I didn’t register as a Guide, how stupid do you think I am? Secondly, James turned himself in because he claimed to have forced a bond on a Guide you say? Well, I’m sure he also told you I was that Guide. Which means what he claims is pretty much impossible. But even if it were possible, do I look like he forced anything on me? Do you honestly believe I would be here if I felt threatened or violated by my own Sentinel? No, of course you don’t believe that because that would mean that I have to question your intentions towards my Sentinel. Got a little bit of animosity towards him, maybe?”
Smith looks appropriately uncomfortable, Tony notices. He doesn’t give him time to defend himself; Tony steps closer and releases the stranglehold he has on his shields, flooding the room with a hint of the righteous anger his inner Guide is battling with. The reaction is immediate in both Smith and Aaron: they both recoil from Tony.
“I want to see my Sentinel right now and if you keep denying me, I won’t be held responsible for my actions. The Primes are on their way here, I’m sure you’ll have a hard time explaining to them why you’ve kept us apart.”
Smith blanches, then looks around himself uneasily. “Sentinel Barnes is in our medical suite. He’s heavily sedated and restrained. He-”
Tony sees red. The Suit erupts over his skin, leaving only his head free of armor. “Get out of my way,” he hisses, hands balled to fists at his side. He wants to blast that asshole so badly.
Smith steps to the side and gestures to Aaron to open the door leading deeper into the building then calls after Tony, “Barnes is a dangerous criminal. We had to protect ourselves.” It takes all of Tony’s self-restraint to not kill him then and there.
“You’re gonna pay for that, Smith,” he promises icily, never breaking his stride. He needs to get to James right fucking now.
“This is my fault,” Tony says with a sigh. He doesn’t turn around to meet Blair’s eyes when he feels the Prime enter the room. He stays rooted to his spot, hands buried in the pockets of his suit pants, shoulders tense. He’s put away the Suit and is now standing just outside James’ room, looking in through the observation window. They are weaning him off the sedation now but have to go slow, to not aggravate his senses too much when he’s coming out of it.
But at least he’s uncuffed and he’s got his arm back. Tony almost lost his shit completely when he arrived in the med bay and found James, right arm cuffed to a wall and left arm on a tray in the far corner of the room. It means James had helped them take his arm off. Had handed himself over willingly to be shackled and sedated and taken out and it makes Tony’s blood boil and his stomach churn.
How broken does this man still have to be, to make himself vulnerable like that? How much of his past is still whispering in his ear, convincing him he’s a danger to others?
Tony doesn’t realize he’s been bleeding anxiety and anger all over the place until Blair nudges him, psionically, shoring up shields that are way more fragile than Tony would like.
“No, it’s not,” Blair says, eventually, and steps up to Tony without actually touching him. “You had no way of knowing that this would happen.”
Tony huffs out a self-deprecating laugh. “I convinced Steve to trick Barnes into meeting with me. Because I wanted to apologize and to convince him I wasn’t holding any grudges. Look at how that turned out. He turned himself over to them. He’s defenseless. They could have done anything at all to him and he’d have let them. Because he’s convinced he’s done something wrong, when I’m the one who fucked up.” Tears well up in Tony’s eyes, blurring his vision but he refuses to give in. He’s made this mess, he needs to sort it out.
“Yet you don’t regret being bonded to him,” Blair’s not asking. He’s stating facts.
“Of course not!” Tony hisses. “The moment I felt him reaching out to me psionically, I knew he was mine. And I’m his. He did nothing wrong.”
“And neither did you. But the two of you need to talk. Just not here. You’re free to take James with you as soon as he’s stable enough to be moved to your own med bay. Thanks for not killing anyone here today,” Blair says with a smirk. He’s apparently had a few choice words with Smith. “I know tensions were running a little high and they definitely should have handled the situation better.”
They watch in silence as Barnes slowly starts stirring in his bed.
“Go, take care of your mate,” Blair encourages, and touches Tony’s shoulder for the barest of moments. “He needs you.” There’s a gentle boost of psionic energy wrapping around his shields and Tony soaks it up gratefully, not caring that Blair probably thinks he’s weak.
“Thank you, Prime,” Tony says, and calls the Suit. He won’t be able to lift James without it and his Sentinel is in no condition to walk just yet.
Crouching down in front of James, who is blinking at him sleepily, Tony has to suppress the urge to just lean over and kiss him. Yeah, no, that would be an awful idea. James is not even really back to himself yet.
So instead of giving into temptation, Tony smiles at his Sentinel and whispers, “Hey sweetheart, I’m gonna bring you home now, alright? Don’t worry, we’re gonna figure this out. You’re fine, you didn’t do anything wrong.”
He carefully slips his arms underneath James and lifts him out of bed, bridal style. James wraps his arms around Tony’s neck, blinking at him in confusion. “Guide?” he asks, sounding a little confused.
“Yes, I’m your Guide. And I’m gonna take good care of you, I promise. Let’s get you out of here.”
He carries James out the heavily secured back entrance and straight to his medical team that is waiting in a specialized, Sentinel friendly ambulance. Blair is right; they need to talk. But until James is ready for that, Tony will make sure he has the best care possible and no one and nothing will keep him from protecting his Sentinel.
Of course nothing ever goes according to plan for Tony. Story of his life. No, really, this is just par for the course. Of course his Sentinel doesn’t appreciate being ‘kidnapped’ for his own good from the facility he so foolishly got himself locked up in. And of course Barnes also isn’t hiding his disdain for being bonded to Tony.
The bond between them is locked down tighter than a Swiss bank vault and what little psionic and emotional read Tony can get on Barnes is so subzero it’s giving him mental frostbite. The pain Tony remembers feeling is still there, hidden beneath the surface like a current under a frozen lake.
And what’s with the wintery metaphors? Is that Tony’s mind playing tricks on him or does Barnes really lean towards the cold and icy? Maybe a holdover from being de-frosted one time too many? Tony doesn’t know but he sure as hell would like to find out.
He’d love to find out everything there is to learn about his Sentinel, actually.
Not that anyone ever cared about what Tony wanted. Nothing has ever been handed to Tony just for wanting, no matter what the public might think. Tony always had to fight for the things he wanted and it looks like his Sentinel won’t be an exception to this rule, either.
Great.
Nothing quite like having to convince the guy you’ve fallen ass over teacups for in the matter of minutes that you’re worth the risk. Or, you know, that he shouldn’t petition the Primes to possibly give them brain damage to dissolve the bond he clearly doesn’t want to be stuck with.
Stuck with Tony. The guy whose parents he murdered while being Hydra’s tortured, brainwashed assassin.
Not that Tony blames him, or anything. That particular fact is something none of them need to be reminded of. And, let’s face it, Tony isn’t really Guide material anyway. He’s bad at the whole nurturing, calming and caring gig, thank you ever so fucking much. He's good at building shit while his genius brain is working at lightspeed, his body powered by caffeine and pure stubbornness most of the time.
He is in no condition to be taking care of someone else when he can barely take care of himself. Right?
Right.
Case in point: he balked when Barnes came ‘round and got agitated.
James had still been pretty out of it when they arrived at the med bay. Disoriented and sluggish, he’d shied away from Tony and asked for Steve. And coward that he is, Tony had turned tail and ran. To get Steve. Because that was what Barnes had wanted. He’d watched his Sentinel get angry, rant and curse while Rogers had tried to talk him down.
At least Barnes is still there. Tucked into bed in the med bay, alone now but quietly seething. Steve left after talking Barnes into at least staying for a day or two. That’s all the time Tony has, before his Sentinel will walk out of his life again and probably do something incredibly stupid. Like getting his brain scrambled again - this time by Blair, in an attempt to free Tony from a supposedly unwanted bond.
It’s a fucking mess, is what it is.
But Tony can’t dwell on that. He doesn’t have the luxury of taking his time to wrap his head around the new situation and make a plan on how to best convince his Sentinel that he really, really is okay with the turn of events.
With a small sigh Tony gently prods their bond again, but it’s still locked down firmly, still cold and painful like a tongue stuck to a frozen flagpole. It hurts, deep in Tony’s chest, and he doesn’t want to imagine what losing the bond altogether would feel like.
“Cancel the life feed,” Tony tells JARVIS with a last look at Barnes, and makes his way down to the med bay. He needs to talk to his Sentinel.
James is on the bed, reading a book, but he looks up when Tony opens the door and leans in the doorframe.
“How are you feeling?” Tony asks softly, hands stuffed firmly into the pockets of his jeans. He wants nothing more than to go to James and take him in his arms, hug him, and tell him they will figure it out together. That even though Tony is a lousy Guide, they surely can make it work somehow. Tony is willing to do almost anything for that.
For the chance to be with his Sentinel.
James puts the book away and turns his attention to Tony. His face is blank, but his voice holds an undercurrent of anger as he says, “You shouldn't have taken me from the Center. I was safe there,” instead of answering Tony’s question.
The words are like a knife to Tony’s gut, and he has a snippy reply on the tip of his tongue, but swallows it down. Safe? James actually thought he was safe in the hands of those Center lunatics? Safe, while unconscious, tied down, completely at their mercy?
“You have an interesting definition of ‘safe’,” Tony says mildly. “From what I’ve seen, being helpless in the hands of someone like Smith is quite the opposite of safe.”
James clenches his jaw and glares at Tony. If looks could kill, Tony would have evaporated. “Don’t play stupid ‘cause I know you’re not. I wasn’t talking about my own safety. I deserved to be taken out. I was talking about being safe for you. Away from you. So I wouldn’t hurt you again.”
Oh fucking hell. He can’t be serious.
Tony blinks at him, shores up his shields and swallows hard, because suddenly James’ actions make perfect, horrible sense. Nausea wells up in Tony and he has to take a few deep, controlled breaths to keep from puking all over the nice, antiseptic, Sentinel-senses-friendly floors. James is serious. He turned himself in to protect Tony.
“What if I told you that you haven’t hurt me at all?” Tony asks, and pushes off the doorframe to very slowly and very cautiously walk a bit nearer to James’ bed.
James huffs. “Yeah, right. What is this? Some sort of sick game? You gonna try and keep me prisoner? Lock me up in one of your Hulk-proofed rooms and do what? Punish me for my past sins? Is that why you took me? So you can have your privacy when you break the bond I forced on you? I guess you’ll realize I’m a lot harder to break than you think, without the conditioning in my head.”
Tony feels himself go pale. How the fuck is James even still sane, if he carries that kind of guilt and mistrust around with himself - especially since it stands in stark contrast to the protectiveness he has already displayed. His Sentinel instincts have to be at odds with his survival instincts and trigger all kinds of issues with his nightmarish past.
What’s it gonna take to win James’ trust? How can Tony hope to even get close enough to the issues at hand when his own Sentinel thinks he’s out to harm him? How the fuck is he supposed to fix this, goddammit?
Tony stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jeans again, to suppress the urge to reach out and touch James. Feel his skin under his hands. Wrap him up in shields and psionic energy and keep him safe for-fucking-ever.
“I know you won’t believe me, but I don’t have an ulterior motive,” Tony shrugs with as much indifference as he can muster. “I don’t wanna break you or hurt you or keep you. You’re not a prisoner. In fact,” Tony steps to the side, turns slightly and tilts his head towards the med bay doors, “you’re free to go. I mean, I’d rather you don’t, until we're 100% certain that you’ve recovered from being drugged, but yeah, not stopping you, buddy.”
James now looks confused.
“You’re my Sentinel and I’d love to spend some time with you and get to know you … let the bond settle. But I’m not gonna try and keep you in a situation you clearly don’t want to be in. I can arrange for you to meet with the Primes, if you like, so Blair can safely dissolve the bond; since you obviously don’t want to be bound to me. No surprise there. I’m a complete disaster of a Guide. You honestly could do so much better,” Tony rambles on when James doesn’t move an inch.
“You know, it’d be great if you could give me an indication about what you are thinking, freeze pop, cause as much as I love to hear myself talk, this is getting us nowhere.” Tony rubs his forehead in frustration when James just continues to stare at him. “I’m just gonna say this, again: I’m fine, you didn’t do anything wrong - well other than being reckless enough to hand yourself over to the Center but that’s beside the point - and you’re not a prisoner. How’s that for a summary?”
“I forced a bond on you,” James states tonelessly.
Tony sighs. Here we go again. “No, sweetheart, you really didn’t. All you did was sweep me off my feet a little more roughly than I’m used to. That’s it. That’s all that happened. You tackled me, I hit my head a little, I felt your psionic energy, thought hell yes and plastered myself all over you, psionically. And since we’re an awesome match, the rest is history as they say.”
“That’s not what happened.” James denies.
“That’s exactly what happened,” Tony instantly replies. “I hate to burst your bubble, snowball, but not even you can create a bond with me if I don’t allow it. Supersoldier or not, Guides form and cement bonds. You’re a Sentinel. I'm a very gifted Guide. The only way you would have been able to form any resemblance of a bond with me, would have been if I had been unconscious before it happened. I wasn’t. If I had resisted you, psionically, you might have done some damage, but there would never have been a bond.” Tony shrugs again. “Fact is, I wanted to bond with you. Hell, we’d probably be having some absolutely spectacular bonding sex right now if you hadn’t run off and I had to steal you back from the Center. This bond was not your doing and it's not unwanted. Is that clear enough for you now, Sentinel Barnes?”
“You’re really not afraid of me,” James sounds like he has a very hard time wrapping his head around the concept.
“I’m really not,” Tony agrees evenly.
“And you want this. Want … me?” The disbelief in James’ voice breaks Tony’s heart.
“More than you can imagine, sweetheart. You're every dream I never allowed myself to have wrapped into one neat, insanely hot, supersoldiered Sentinel package. I feel like I've won the jackpot.” Tony admits and it feels strangely freeing to say it out loud. To admit to how much he’s longed for a Sentinel.
“I killed your parents.” Janes seems hell bent on scaring Tony off.
“Hydra killed my parents. That they used you to do it makes the whole thing even more tragic, but I'm not stupid enough to blame you for things you had no control over.” Tony wonders how many times he has to say that out loud until people start believing him.
“I still have … issues. Even though the words are gone from my head.”
“Baby, if you think I don't have a ton of issues of my own you're delusional. I'm a recovering alcoholic, a workaholic, I have trust issues, and I'm probably completely useless as a Guide.”
“I don't like it.”
Tony’s momentarily puzzled by the non-sequitur. Mainly because he still doesn't get anything from their bond and can't even begin to guess what James ‘doesn't like’. Could be any of the unfavorable, if true, things he just listed about himself.
“I'm sorry, sweetheart, but you need to be a bit more specific here, since I'm getting zilch over our bond. Which of my many faults exactly is it that is not to your liking? Or is it this whole being-bonded-to-a-fuckup situation you're objecting to?” Might as well get it over with.
“I don't like you talking about yourself that way,” James growls, and suddenly climbs out of bed. He sounds … dangerous. But Tony’s not scared. He's embarrassingly turned on as he watches James close the distance between them in two long strides.
And then his Sentinel is there, close, right hand warm and sure, slipping into Tony's hair while his vibranium arm wraps around Tony’s hips and pulls him close.
“Tell me to stop,” James whispers, lips close to Tony’s own, and finally, finally the choke hold on their bond loosens.
“Wouldn't dream of it,” Tony whispers back, breathlessly. His head is spinning and their bond is finally right and nothing else matters at that moment.
He wraps his arms around James and holds on tight, his feelings clearly transmitting over their bond. When their lips finally meet, it's everything Tony had hoped for and more. A sense of peace and belonging fills him like never before in his life.
What's even better is that his own feelings are echoed by James, who pulls away slightly and looks at Tony with wonder in his eyes. Tony smiles.
Yeah, they're gonna be just fine after all.