HardlyFatal Writes Hopefully Good Stuff

“I think I figured out why Nate glommed onto you,” Lila said, climbing from the bed and plucking a stuffed toy from the top of the open sack as she approached. “This is his favorite lovey.” She handed it to him and waited expectantly for his reaction.

Buck stared down at it. It looked to be a… bear? With dark brown fur and blue eyes— bears don’t have blue eyes, though, do they?— and a little blue jacket, double-breasted, with two rows of buttons and a fake-leather strap across the chest. Something about it tugged at his memory. It looked almost like what he had worn yesterday— Jesus, was it only yesterday? — to the battle in Wakanda. But it was different, somehow… a less-modern style?

“He has a Bucky Bear?” asked Darcy, peeking around Buck’s shoulder to see why he was blocking the doorway. “No wonder he likes you so much.” She grinned up at him and slipped around him to enter. “You guys almost done?”

A recollection of himself in a blue double-breasted jacket, pouch strap slung across his chest, knee-deep in Austrian snow, surfaced with a speed that had him retreating until the solidity of the door jamb was at his back. Darcy’s and Lila’s eyes flew to him.

“You okay?” Darcy asked, a little frown of concern between her dark brows.

“They made me into a bear?” he demanded as Nate took it from him. “A bear?”

“The way I see it, we have a ready-made to-do list,” Bruce replied. “One, we coordinate with Wakanda and the Mystical Arts people, because their technology and magic will be instrumental in accomplishing anything. Two, we try to find Tony and Peter and Rocket’s friends, the Asgardians who survived Thanos’ attack in the escape pods, and Thanos himself. Three, we improve our situation so we’re able to fight and beat Thanos this time—“

Thor stood abruptly, his chair rattling as it rolled backwards from the speed and force of his movement.

“We were able to beat him last time,” he said roughly. Then he strode from the room, through the glass doors to the living area and beyond

There was a beat of surprised silence in Thor’s wake, and a lot of dismayed faces.

“I’ll… just…” Darcy pointed toward the doors and scurried after Thor.

The shower was one of the best-feeling things Bucky had ever experienced, and he included sex, a good meal, and the day he’d broken free of HYDRA’s control in that. His already-close-fitting gear had been glued to his skin by dried sweat and blood; good for defense, terrible for air flow. 

Still, he did what he could to clean it. The armor would take forever to dry, but he doubted he’d need it. The rest, however… tac pants and a Henley. He’d put them back on damp, they’d be dry enough by Missouri.

But after the drying air faded, he found they were perfectly ready to be worn again, as if they’d been just-laundered, and got back into them, the armor dumped under the sink. It was his plane. He could leave shit wherever he wanted.

The thought— it was his plane— sent a bolt of pure happiness up his spine, just as quickly banished by guilt. It had been so long, decades, since he’d had anything that was completely his, and the idea thrilled him to a stupid extent. 

But how could he enjoy it, how could he feel enjoyment at all, after what had happened? What he’d lost? What everyone had lost? The entire world was in shambles, and there was him, grinning foolishly because he owned something. He tucked his hair behind his ears and left the bathroom, berating himself in his thoughts.

Darcy was exhausted, from pain and stress, but it would have taken Mjölnir to the forehead to knock her out, so wound up was she from… everything.

Speaking of which…

“Hey, Thor, where’s Mew-mew?”

He froze in the act of helping Erik sit up. “That is part of what has occurred in recent days.”

Once Erik was as comfortable as he could be, Thor dropped heavily in the bunk beside him. Darcy stumbled to the other bunk, with help from the nearly-silent Winter Soldier (what?!) and, for once, sat quietly as Thor began his sad tale.

“That is so fucked up,” Darcy whispered when it was over. They were midway over Europe by then, nothing but mountains and fields to be seen, dotted with towns and villages. She’d cried at various points in hearing everything recounted, but especially to hear of Thor losing his eye and Mjölnir.

“Oh, honey,” she murmured, leaning forward to enfold him in her arms. “What you’ve been through.”

Thor held himself rigidly and then went lax in her embrace, shuddering. “I will need your help to endure these blows I have suffered,” he mumbled, clearly stripped bare of his last resources. “This is all my fault. All of it. All of it.”

GoT people, don’t get too excited-- this is for Marvel Cinematic Universe. 

Half the world turns to dust... but not the ones we saw in Infinity War. How might the Avengers & Co. bring everyone back if a few key players aren't there to help them?