Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’s not like Strange hadn't warned him. It’s not like he hadn't known the risks and what the deal entailed. What erasing one’s existence meant. What forgetting him meant. Peter knew damn well what he was going to get, what he was going to lose when he made the decision.

But that didn't mean that it didn't hurt.

He had thought he would be okay. Truly. He’d thought that the pain would melt away, slowly but surely. The people he loved would’ve moved on. Forgotten– and literally have forgotten about him. Fill that space he left with someone else. He never expected it to be like a stab to his heart, the life ebbing away slowly from his bloodied hands.

But it never did go away. The loneliness. The pain. The heartbreak.

With Ned and MJ, it was more so loneliness. He could only watch from afar. Watch as they smiled, laughed— lived on without him. Already filling in the space he left with each other’s presence, like he was never there to begin with. And to them, he never was. He could only watch as they moved on with their lives, time removing all traces of him. Pieces of him left with them– gone with time, and not just from the spell that Strange had casted. Nothing but strangers, passing by one another on the street.

With May, it was the pain. The pain of knowing her death was on his hands. That she died because of him. He’d been too late. He’d been careless. Thoughtless. Watching her die, feeling– no, hearing her heart stop right before him. Memories of her ran through Peter’s mind like a broken feedback loop, the countless dinners with her, the laughter shared over those stupid-cute videos of animals, those dumb quarrels with her. The only thing left of her on him was that pendant of hers. It hurt. Knowing that was all he had left of her. Knowing he couldn’t run into her arms, bawling and hiding away from the world any longer. Knowing he would forget her voice with time, her comforting smell, her calming heartbeat.

Knowing that the last time she saw him, was the time he failed her.

And then, with Tony, Winter and Bucky– it was the heartbreak. The heartbreak had cut in deep. Slicing over the already gaping wound left by Ned, MJ and May. He still loved them. All of them. The embers of his affection for his lovers still burning him, even with years passed. He just… couldn’t let it go.

Watching his past life’s lovers forget him had been like a stab to his already broken heart. It was the nail in the coffin really. He couldn’t handle it any longer. He’d overestimated himself when he’d agreed to the deal with Strange. He couldn’t do this. He just couldn’t. Even when he had tried to date once again, he could never manage to get it past the second date. It was pathetic.

While wallowing in his anguish and guilt, he could only ever watch as his lovers continued on without him. Watching through the screen as they continued with interviews, hands held at press conferences, kisses shared after hard and well-earned battles.

Years passed and yet, the loneliness, the pain nor the heartbreak ever did go away.

His relationship with god had been skewed to hell and back. But sometimes, on the days where he could only cry, curl up in a ball— those days were the days he would pray for a second chance.

To start once more.

-----

Tony woke up with a jolt, bolting upright in the bed. He could feel his stomach— and his heart plummet. A bad feeling. Not just the ‘oh, I’ll deal with it later after my morning coffee’ type of bad. No, no, it was more like a ‘I’ve lost someone dear to me, and I have no way home to them’. The type of pain that would make one want to curl up and cry. Sob for days on end.

He needed Buck. Needed to make sure he was okay. His head whipping to the side, his sudden movement startling Bucky who was also wide-eyed beside him, staring into the distance. Huh. Bucky was safe and sound, right next to him. Now that didn’t make sense. His boyfriends were here. If Bucky was awake and on alert, no doubt Winter was too.

He decided to throw a bone. Or maybe a fishing rod. Or whatever, just something to see if the other had felt it. To know that it was real, and not that it was just Tony being sleep deprived and paranoid.

“Same thing? Bad feeling, about to puke your guts out type of bad? Or maybe curl up and sob bad?” He’d asked his partners, watching as Bucky cautiously got out of bed, already terse and on high alert.

“Yeah. Woke up around the same time as you, doll. Heart’s fucking running for no god damn reason,” Bucky’d replied, already slipping on loose sweats before silently stepping out into the hallway. Peeking down, just in case. But if there were actually a threat, he knew damn well that FRIDAY would have warned them. But the AI remained silent. He glanced over his shoulder, a frown disrupting his features. “Winter’s panicking. There's more gaps in our memory than usual— like we’re missing something. Someone. Got any clue? I can’t— can’t remember.”

Tony shook his head, his frown mirroring Bucky’s.

“Not that I can recall. I can’t remember either.”

They both paused. Waiting, as if their silence would fill the gaps in their memories. Because no, now that Tony thought about it– he too felt like his brain had been picked at, memories of something, someone, forcibly taken away. It didn’t make sense.

But much like how his life is constantly on the move, he didn’t have the time to dwell on it, even if he wanted to. Maybe it was deja vu, maybe it was… something. Something else, something that neither he, Bucky nor Winter could understand. But really, they couldn’t dwell on it. Not when FRIDAY piped in suddenly, to announce that there were Doom bots running rampant on the lower side of New York City again.

Pushing the feeling to the back of his mind, even with his heart screaming at him to not push this aside– he got up and turned to Bucky, who was already gearing up. Where did he get his gear? Only God knew at this point. But either way, as he reached for his housing unit, he shared a shaky smile with his partners. The odd feeling of losing someone never really easing up. Still at the back of his mind, his heart.

“Let’s start, yeah?”

Chapter Text

It’s been five years since that day. The day Tony woke up with a gaping hole in his heart. Well, not physically gaping. But still. The feeling of it, the heartache— it really threw him off his game for a few days. And he wasn’t the only one.

Bucky and Winter had been affected too. Winter held up better than Bucky, being the one that withstood the better part of HYDRA’s experimentations and torture— in public at least. Winter was equally a mess behind closed doors. He fretted over the ache in his chest. Wondering if he fucked up along the way and suddenly, somehow, forgot someone important to him.

Bucky was no different. He’d been equally affected. Winter couldn’t remember, and neither could Tony. So he coped. But his method of coping had never been one of healthy means. He withdrew himself from everyone. His friends, his lovers— he just shut himself in. Winter had panicked, as expected, not wanting him to disappear and hide in the recesses of their shared mind forever. Winter couldn’t live without Bucky, and neither could Tony. It took a long, grueling month before both Winter and Tony managed to coax Bucky out. They both knew that he may have been hiding, not wanting to be found, but he could still hear them. He could still see them.

It was a whole thing in itself. Really. It tested the strength of their love for each other. But all was well in the end. Sort of.

There was still that gaping hole left that neither three of them could explain.

And then to add fuel to the fire, they kept finding traces of someone left in the penthouse. Clothes, pictures with a face mysteriously smudged off. Distorted audio and video recordings— which even FRIDAY could not fix. Good Old FRIDAY, stumped over distorted recordings. If Tony knew of this in the past, he’d have laughed and said it was impossible. That it’d have to be magic.

Huh.

It threw them off. Yeah, the rational thought would be that someone was cheating within the relationship. But no. That was ruled out after a long, and arduous talk. So that didn’t make sense either.

They never did get their answer.

Not until now. Not that they knew yet at least.

—

Bucky awoke to butterflies. No, not literally— even if Tony could make it happen, he knew damn well Bucky would have chewed him a new one just for unleashing a horde of butterflies in the penthouse. No, Bucky awoke to gentle kisses being pressed along the back of his neck, trailing down over to his shoulders. He shuddered, biting back a noise that nearly escaped from his lips unbidden.

“Good morning to you too, doll,” he murmured, his voice hoarse from the night before’s antics. His back was aching in that satisfying way, the one that screamed good sex. Or maybe that was just his age catching up to him. Who knew?

Tony grunted as Bucky turned around to face him. Strong arms encircled Tony’s waist, drawing him closer to the warmth known as his boyfriend. “Good morning. Should we continue from where we left off? If I recall correctly, it was something about you and me and that window over there—” Tony yelped as Bucky pinched his side, leaning down to smile into the crook of Tony’s neck. He could hear the soft laughter of Winter in the back of his mind, no doubt his other partner had found that amusing.

I would take that offer up— but we do have an anniversary to celebrate, don’t we?

We do.

Bucky sighs before he moves to get up, the ache in his back intensifying for a brief moment, before ebbing away into a dull throb. He glances down at Tony, his lips quirking up in a smile as he leans down to kiss the man. “As much as me and Winter would love to take that offer up, we’ve got an anniversary to celebrate,” he reminded as he nipped at Tony’s lower lip. It gained him a needy groan.

He paid it no mind however, laughing as he got up and padded over to the bathroom. He could feel the body turn back, and winter ghosting past him to the front to speak, in turn pulling Bucky back. The cadence of his voice was much, much different than Bucky’s.

“Well, come on now. We said no to window sex— but we can make do with shower sex, no?”

Tony took no less than three seconds to clamber out of the bed, tug off his stupidly not cooperating boxers and make a beeline to the shower. Record time. And if Winter and Bucky saw him trip while doing so— well, no they didn’t.

And after, after Winter had reduced Tony’s legs to being nothing but a limp noodle, only then did the three of them continue on with the day.

It was their anniversary after all.

———

It was their anniversary.

Peter woke up with a jolt. His alarm blaring by his bedside, shocking him awake. His eyes blearily blinked open, glancing at his phone before he reached for it. Shutting the alarm off with a groan.

God, his head hurt. Drinking sucked dick, and not in a fun way. He’d always had to drink extra to even get drunk. His damn metabolism always got in the way. Spider shit.

“Peter, would you like me to set the coffee pot?”

Peter grunted. Nodding and deciding that’s enough, that through the cameras KAREN had seen the state he’s in.

KAREN had been with him when the spell had been casted. It meant she’d been there. It meant she’d remembered him. Small mercies really.

He took that small mercy up a notch when he’d managed to get his own apartment— adding her software to it, installing cameras to be her eyes, speakers to be her voice, and so on and forth. He’d taken inspiration from FRIDAY. Tony built FRIDAY into his penthouse after all, so why not he do the same for KAREN. And anyway, she’s seen it all by now. His pain, his loss, his anger. And as how he’d managed to get enough money, the band had blown up, earning him enough to get his own place. A home.

Home.

Home was with May. Was with Ned and MJ. Was with Tony, Winter and Bucky– all of which he didn’t have anymore. He’d been forced to build his life up once more from scratch, alone.

His heart ached. The dull throb reminding him that sobriety was not fun. It also doesn’t help that his head was pounding to hell and back, even as he stumbled into the shower. He doesn’t even bother to tug his clothes off. He just sits there, in the tub as he essentially gets waterboarded. Not that he cares really. Not that it’s even going to matter, as tears stream down his face. The shower just washes his tears away, not letting it linger and dry on his skin. It’s not the sob-ugly cry. It’s just… who knows. The type of crying where one has accepted it. Peter’s accepted it. He’s just not over it.

It’s their anniversary today.

The reminder haunts him. Literally. The media and press wouldn’t ever shut up about The Winter Soldier’s and Iron Man’s anniversary. How good they were together. How they loved one another. How the three of them were a perfect power couple. It made Peter want to scream and cry. Scream that he used to be loved by them, that he still loves them. That he was supposed to be celebrating with them. And then cry— because god he just misses them so.

“Incoming call from Lili.”

Ugh.

Couldn’t he loathe and miss his ex-lovers in peace? Nope. Apparently not. Life was calling him once more. By life he meant his fellow band member slash reluctant friend, no doubt checking in on him.

“Put her through, Kar. Thanks.” He mumbled, switching the shower off as he climbed out of the tub, his movements one not that of a superhero, but more of a dying rat with how his world was still spinning. His clothes stuck to him, making him feel— and look, like a wet rat. Or cat. Both work. He hobbled towards the sink once more, this time actually shucking off his soaked clothes and tossing it towards the hamper as the call went through.

And by went through, Lilian definitely went through screaming.

“Where the fucking hell are you? We’ve got to sign the deal with that record label in fifteen minutes— and I don’t see your bloody ass anywhere within a mile radius. You come here right now, or I swear to whatever higher being above I will shove a glow stick right up your a—” The unholy screeching was cut off when, as Peter guesses, Norton decided to snatch the phone away. Thank god. He didn’t want to know if he’d glow from the inside out with a glow stick up his ass. “Hey. Just get here soon, safely , I don’t want to deal with a grumpy old lady— yes, you sure act like one— no, I’m not! Wait—”

Peter hadn’t even gotten a word in. Before the chaos on the other line could get even worse, somehow, he spoke up, “I’ll see you guys soon. Not bailing this time, I promise. Just got… too drunk yesterday.”

A pause on the other line.

“Your head okay?” Cassandra plucked the phone away from Norton’s grip, her voice calming, comforting. Worried. Behind her he could hear the quarreling stop. The focus now turned on him. The type of worry and care where it made Peter want to sob again. Because he knew, he knew that his friends did want him better. “I’ll order something for you to eat when you get here. Be careful on the way, alright? Don’t drive if you can’t. Want Nort to pick you up?”

Peter grumbled. His friends had taken up the mantle of coddling him, since he himself was apparently shit at taking care of himself. Well, they weren’t wrong though.

After the whole thing five years ago, he’d barely managed to even scrape by. College had kicked him out, he hadn’t been attending lessons. He couldn’t even leave bed, really. All he would do was sit and cry. Make a couple of patrols because damn it, crime wouldn’t wait. And then to top it all off he had bills to pay. A job he didn’t own. Money he didn’t have.

He lost the apartment that he and May had lived in, in the end. He’d been left on the streets with nothing to his mortal name.

And maybe meeting his friends was the universe pitying him. Pitying him, as if everything that has happened wasn’t the universe’s will. That deep rooted anger never really went away either. Funny. But hey, at least he met his friends. Albeit in an odd way, when he was drunk out of his mind. And it wasn’t like he met them. They found him really.

Hanging on a tree.

Upside-down.

It all screamed Spider-Man. And totally not because his costume was left discarded nearby. Totally.

They were smart people. Maybe not tech smart, but hey— smart enough. Smart enough to also keep quiet about his second identity. Smart enough to know that Peter had baggage. That he needed a home too.

Also smart enough to rope him into this band business thing, because damn.

Anyway, digressed. Peter shook his head, drying his hair as he mumbled out something unintelligible, before repeating himself after Cassandra had made a questioning noise. “No, I can drive myself there, thanks. Uh, maybe get me some chicken soup? Please.”

“Alright– but only if you make me some coffee. See you.”

“Yeah, I will. See you.”

The call ended, the line cutting off as he headed out of the bathroom and walked straight into the kitchen. He wasn’t rich per say, but he had enough money to sustain himself now. Enough. He wasn’t going to lie. His friends were a pain in the ass, but a good type of pain. They’d given him a place to stay all while he slowly, but surely, started to build his life back up. They’d talked him through his panic attacks, his episodes. Gave him new memories to override the bad ones– not fully, no, but they had helped.

Maybe the universe was really giving him a second chance.

He poured himself a cup of coffee, before pouring another round into a flask for his friends. Only after he turned to check his phone, the sound of a notification alerting him.

Nevermind.

It was about the anniversary.

Mood plummeting back down to hell, he set his cup aside. He forced himself to not break, to not cry on his damn kitchen counter. When would it get better? When would the pain ever stop?

No. He had no time to dwell on the past. He’d promised himself that he’d move on. He had made the choice five years ago. He was going to stick to it. He wasn’t going to go back to them– and even if he wanted to, how could he? They were so far compared to him. They didn’t even know his name now, much less love him again. They were untouchable. Unreachable.

So, so different from him.

“Incoming call from Cass.”

Right, He had no time for his pity party– he had a life to live. Songs to sing, records to sign. Right. He wasn’t just Peter Parker anymore. He wasn’t just spider-man anymore. He is a singer now too. He was Seer now, from the band RESTART. Right.

He packed his bag, jumping over the counter as he grabbed the flask filled with coffee and rushed out the door. He had to remind himself that things were different now. That now a different set of people were counting on him. That now his life wasn’t the same as before.

And maybe for the better or worse.

———

They’d managed to weave through the crowd of media reporters waiting outside of the restaurant that they'd been at. Someone fucking blowed the whistle. Or maybe it was just a fucking nosy patron at the same restaurant they’d been at.

To say it was annoying was an understatement. Yeah, being in the spotlight was fun and all, sure– but it was not fun when all Tony wanted was to spend time with his lovers in peace. He snagged his keys from the valet nearby, giving the poor, definitely underpaid, guy to deal with the reporters as he slid into his motherfucking expensive ass sports car. Well, not expensive to Tony, the car hadn’t even made a dent his wallet.

“Where to next? Home, hopefully?” Tony asked, smiling softly at his lovers as he buckled himself in behind the wheel.

Winter sat shotgun, already shaking his head and scrolling through his starkphone in search of another place to drop by. Well damn. There goes his peace of mind from the reporters and media people, but if Winter didn’t want to go home yet, then who was he to say no to his lover?

He just hopes to god it’s a bar. High-class one preferably.

Wait, never mind. He’s supposed to stay sober.

He glances out the window, watching as the reporters shove at one another to ask a flurry of questions to his tinted car window. Which was useless really, as if that hadn't been obvious– he wasn’t in the mood to answer questions about god knows what when he and Winter had left the restaurant, and he wasn’t going to miraculously change his mind within the span of walking from the restaurant to the car. Tony was magical but not that magical.

He sighed while he changed the car's gears, slowly making his way out of the area and onto the main roads.

“What’d you think of this bar, sweetheart? Vis went with Wanda the other day, and they both seem to really like it. They said the band that plays there is good too. It’s nearby anyway— and if we don’t like it we can just head back.”

Tony turns towards Winter, just as Winter swipes the directions of said bar onto the built-in screen of his car, with FRIDAY thankfully connected. Well. Thank god it’s a bar at least.

Never mind, sobriety. Right.

“So… what's the bar’s name?” He asks, eyes flicking from the screen and onto the road, following the set of directions FRIDAY was giving him. His hand leaves the gear stick to rest on Winter’s thigh, feeling coiled muscles jump underneath his fingertips. What. He wants to feel his boyfriend up. Let the man be.

Anyway, Winter turns to Tony. His lips quirking up in a smile before he answers. Clear that he’s trying to suppress his laughter.

“A Bar.”

“No, I know. It’s a bar— but what’s the name?”

“A Bar. That’s the name.”

Tony gapes before he lets out a squawk of disbelief, which would look unflattering, but honest to god— Winter’s in too deep. And it doesn’t help that Winter can feel Bucky’s amusement rolling off from the back of his mind.

Told you that Tony’d like it. A bar named A Bar— hilarious.

“I can practically feel Bucky laughing at me. Or with me. Oh my god– who names their bar, A Bar?” Tony cuts in, already used to both of his lover’s antics. He turns at another stoplight, the lights from the lamp post nearby filtering in and casting a glow on his face.

Winter sucks in a breath.

Tony looks so youthful under the glow of the light-- vibrant even. Looks more at ease, free of the deep set frown he usually has when he deals with annoying Board members, or frankly disrespectful reporters. The way his lashes fan out and cast shadows on his face. The way his lips just seem to be so, so kissable right now. Practically waiting for Winter to bully between his teeth. The way his hazel-brown eyes that seem to almost glow before flicking over to look—

To look—

Honey-brown eyes looking up at him. They’re kind, loving. Almost haunting, with the intensity of it. They’re similar to Tony’s, but more honey rather than hazelnut. Those eyes belong to a man whose face seems to blur, like a memory he can’t grasp. It worries Winter for a brief moment. But then it washes away when all he feels is the warmth of the man.

Winter knows that the man is smiling. Smiling at him, all while reaching for his wrist. The man slides a bracelet onto him. Clasps it shut.

It’s nothing stifling. It doesn’t make Winter want to cower. It doesn’t make him feel like he’s being chained. It makes him feel safe, wanted. It makes him want to hug the man before him. Hold him close and fall deeper into those honey soaked irises.

The bracelet matches the one on the man’s wrist. A dainty thing, seems almost breakable. But he knows it’s far from that. It’s rose gold hue was beautiful against the man’s skin.

He looks down at his own wrist, inspecting the gift. Appreciating it’s beauty. It’s silver– vibranium silver. An ode to his vibranium arm, it was clear. He can feel a bubble of affection under his skin, one that was steadily mixing with his– Bucky’s.

He looks back up to see Tony coming up from behind the man, hugging him from behind. Winter feels a smile creep up from his lips, a laugh bubbling out of him as he watches the man playfully struggle out of Tony’s grip. Something itches at the back of his mind. A reminder of something. That the man has his own strengths. But what? He doesn’t remember.

He pays it no mind. Not that he even wants to wrack his mind, and work it into overdrive. Not when the sight before him is so beautiful.

Both Tony and the man are standing face to face now, sharing a kiss. And then the man pulls away, reaching for Tony’s arm. The same thing happens. He clasps a bracelet onto Tony’s wrist, this time the color in a beautiful gold, matching Tony’s Iron Man suit. He turns to Winter, grinning as he beckons the other.

Winter feels magnetized.

He walks over, smiling as his vibranium arm slides around the man’s waist. He watches as the man’s irises expand ever so slightly, a shiver running through his frame. Winter leans in, like a moth to a flame, his lips grazing—

“Winter? Earth to winter? God, if I’m that handsome you could just, well I don’t know, take a picture?” Tony asks, the corners of his eyes crinkling up as pokes at Winter’s arm again.

Winter’s eyes hold steady against Tony’s. Even with the airy and lighthearted tone that Tony is and was aiming for, there was still that undertone of worry. Tony couldn’t help it. It was rare to find Winter spacing out, not unless he’d been triggered into an episode. Or when he’d sense something amiss.

“Yeah, I’m fine. And Buck has enough pictures of you— I’ll just raid his stash,” Winter grins, leaning over to press a chaste kiss against his boyfriend's lips. He turns around to look out the window, not that surprised to find that they’re already parked in front of the bar. He’d figured he’d spaced out for quite a while. Lost in a… in a what?

A memory?

You saw that too right? That memory– or whatever that was.

Yeah. I still feel like we’re missing something. Someone. Again.

Winter doesn’t answer Bucky. He doesn’t need to, not when they both simultaneously have already agreed to bring this up with Tony once they’re back home. Stepping out of the car, he takes the chance to look down at his wrist.

The Vibranium bracelet sits prettily there. On his wrist.

It was a memory.

A memory of who? Who was that man? Who was he to Tony, to Bucky and himself? And why couldn’t he remember? Did his mind conjure it all up?

Winter walked by Tony’s side, his eye flicking down to Tony’s wrist. Well, shit.

There was a matching bracelet on Tony’s wrist. Gold, dainty looking. Just like the one on Winter’s wrist. But this time— this time he catches an engraving shining at the base of the clasp. He’d never noticed it before.

TS . JBB . WS . PP

The fuck was that supposed to mean— oh. It was their initials. Tony Stark, James Buchanan Barnes, Winter Soldier and— and who? Who was— He can practically feel his chest tightening, panic bubbling up from underneath.

Then the next thing Winter knows is that they’re standing right in front of the bar and Tony is looking at him oddly again.

“This is the second time you’ve spaced out babe. I’m being serious, are you alright? We can go home and just cuddle in bed, watch something,” Tony inquires again, an eyebrow raised as he entwines his hand with Winters. He feels his lover's thumb trace soothing circles against his skin.

It calms him, ever so little. His breathing evens out. It’s better. To know that the people he loves— one next to him, and one quite literally in his mind, are with him. That they’d be there no matter.

Giving his lover a firm shake of his head, he smiles at the other. “No, just deep in thought. We can talk about it later when we’re back at home alright? I want us to enjoy ourselves today, it’s our anniversary, no?” Winter replies, pulling Tony’s hand up to press a kiss against Tony’s knuckle. As a show that it really was alright, that he wasn’t about to have a freak out of any sort. Just really deep in thought.

We all know that’s a lie. I could feel you freaking out, bordering into a panic attack with this memory gap thing.

Ah, shh. I’m okay. It’s okay. We’ll bring it up with Tony once we’re back. It’s fine.

Best know I’m taking over if I feel you pushing yourself. But either way, I don’t like this one bit. Please, be careful my love.

I will. And I promise, I won’t push myself. I’m fine, really.

Tony steps into the bar, Winter following close behind. He can feel Bucky standing back, almost as if behind him as he watches on. They should call him hawkeye really, but that name’s already taken.

The bar’s crowded for a Tuesday night, with patrons bustling about. Crowding around tables, around the counter— and lastly, around the stage, where there’s a band and a few others milling about on stage. The Bar’s staff members seem to be everywhere too, running back and forth from the counter to the tables and god knows where. It’s too dim that no one’s going to take notice of who Tony was, or who Winter was. Also it just really helped that they’re not dressed in anything flashy.

Back to the band.

It seems like they’re in between sets, the members busy rehydrating themselves, fixing their instruments. One holding up what seems to be a mic snapped into two.

Odd.

Tony's intrigued.

All of them have masks on. Like, blindfolds. Black silk wrapped around the upper parts of their faces, covering their identities. Peculiar for a band, maybe, but maybe they just didn’t want their identities on stage to be associated with them in real life.

Something similar to a certain superhero, he guesses. Like that Spider-Man boy that FRIDAY has been tracking under Tony’s instructions. It was Bucky who’d actually taken interest first, seen him take down a stray doom bot. Then it was Tony’s interest, seeing the webs the spider often sports, then Winter, with how strong and agile Spiderman seems to be. But either way, Tony’s curious about him. That tech on his suit seems familiar in a way, but he can’t seem to jog his memory on why.

“Let’s head up. Vis said that the best view is from the second level, and also because it’s VIP. Which i know you’d like better,” Winter chimes in, momentarily breaking Tony’s interest in the Band.

They walk up the steps. It’s not necessarily a big bar, well, maybe not to Tony’s eyes. But there's that type of wonder behind Winter's eyes. It’s been a long while since he’s been to a bar— just for enjoyment, and not for a mission or a check-in of any sort. Pure, plain enjoyment. It makes Tony smile, the worry easing up a little, knowing that Winter was in fact feeling better.

He walks over to the bar on the second floor, and peruses through the menu— not that he’s going to order anything from the alcoholic menu anyway. Haha. He’s been staying sober, and he will maintain that streak until he dies. Hopefully.

“A coke if you please,” Tony orders, giving the bartender a crooked smile. Winter repeats the same order from behind him, with an additional beer that Tony knows Bucky prefers, before picking up their orders and quite literally, dragging Tony away to a seat in the corner of the bar.

It’s not necessarily a type of bar that Tony would frequent, and that’s being polite. But again. He couldn’t say no to Winter. Or Bucky. Either of his lovers really. And the bar’s name was interesting anyway.

But that doesn’t mean he won’t complain.

“Why are we even here anyway? There’s much better bars than this,” He near borderline whines. Scratch the borderline. He’s just whining.

He leans over, presses his body close against Winter’s, his hand already sliding up Winter’s thigh. They’re sitting in the last booth, on the second floor. Who’s going to see if he gets a little handsy with his boyfriends? It’s too dark anyway, the light illuminating the way was just enough to see where one was going, but not to recognize faces. Or actions. Well, if they’re kept hidden well enough.

Winter gives him the look. The look that screams, really Tony? Also a look that shouldn’t look so hot on his face, especially with shit lighting like this.

“Nope. No sex— we are not feeding into your little exhibitionist kink today. I also just don’t feel like being on one of your countless sex tapes. Surveillance camera versions or not,” Winter counters, nudging his lover playfully before glancing up at the corner of the hallway beside them. The CCTV camera’s light flashing almost as a warning. “And anyway, Vis said that the band that plays here is actually good. The type where he thinks that even you’d like.”

Ugh.

“Well then. The band better be fucking good— and if it’s not, you’ll make it up to me, won’t you?” Tony asks, pouting a tad bit. Maybe adding a little flair just to be even more of an ass. An ass that Winter and Bucky sadly love.

And anyway, who can say no to that face? Certainly not Winter.

“Yes, yes, I will make it up to you if the band is not to your liking. I wanted to check them out too anyway, so, if we both don’t like them— we can leave. Alright?” Winter murmurs, leaning to the side and catching Tony’s lips into a kiss. It’s nothing messy or dirty. It’s sweet and slow, the feel of his lover's lips sliding against his. The taste of his affection under his tongue.

Tony won’t lie for this. It took— takes his breath away. Kisses like these will always take his breath away. It’d always made him feel cherished and loved. Kept and locked, safe, maybe.

He pulls back, a near manic grin on his face before he laughs.

“What was that for?”

Winter shrugs and returns a smile. “Just wanted to kiss you.”

The bubble breaks suddenly and they’re pulled back back into reality when they hear a tiny shrill feedback sound. The singer on stage swiftly tugs the microphone away from the speakers in alarm, glancing at the mic then the crowd. The guitarist nearby seems to whack the singer upside his head, almost nagging him in hushed tones. They can’t really hear her, but she seems to be chewing the singer out while she pinches his cheek. She’s dressed in all blood reds, just like the drummer behind them both, whereas the bassist and the singer, himself, seem to match with the dark grays.

The singer, somehow, manages to look sheepish even under the silk wrapped over the upper parts of his face. Bowing slightly to the crowd in front of them as he takes position. And then the guitarist steps up briefly, her microphone before her as she speaks into it.

“Sorry for that— we took a break since somehow our dearest Seer—,” She cuts off to, somehow, give a pointed look at the singer from under the silk around her eyes. And the singer, Seer apparently, manages to look twice as sheepish as before, “—managed to break another microphone. Anyway, as you lot know, we are RESTART, and this will be our last song for tonight.”

Tony turns to Winter, an eyebrow raised in question. “This the band Vis and Wanda thought so highly of?”

“Just shut it and listen. It’s starting,” Winter grumbles, his tone playful as he grins back at his lover.

They both turn as they watch the band start with the first few notes.

And then they hear him.

It’s not what they expect. Really. But either way—

And I'll see you when the wrath comes.

— It’s like a puzzle piece slotting into place. It’s like something is realigning in their synapses, like something clicks within them three. Winter can feel Bucky straighten up, pulling all of their attention towards the stage. Tony seems no different. His focus now is fully on Seer.

Dripping from the open mouth, I'll show you.
What you look like, from the inside.

His voice is haunting. Beautiful, yes, but haunting.

It should send shivers up Winter’s spine, but it doesn’t. It makes him feel like he’s being blanketed around warmth. And yet at the same time, it makes him feel like he’s drowning in it. And he’s willing.

Tonight, tonight, tonight you have the answer.

Seer’s voice is gentle. Like a breeze. Like he’s singing to a lover. Like he’s beckoning you. Beckoning them.

But the anguish that underlies every word. The anguish is unmistakable. At every breath Seer takes, it’s like a stab to his heart. Like it’s hurting Seer.

For some odd reason, Winter wants to pull Seer in close. Comfort him. To kiss him and tell him it’s okay. That he’s safe.

There’s that odd sense of familiarity. One that doesn’t make sense, because they don’t know Seer. They don’t know him.

Manifest pain at the core of pleasure.
I'll see you when the wrath comes around.

Tony doesn’t know what’s happening. All he knows is that he’s entranced. Entranced by the man on stage, by the way he moves as he sings.

By the emotion he portrays as he sings— no, not portrayal. The emotions he feels as he sings. It’s not just singing, it’s like a letter, a personal one, sung and said to someone out there who’s willing to listen. Who’s willing to pass on the message to—

Tonight, tonight, tonight you have the answer.

Tony watches, enthralled as Seer brings his hands up past the mic. Reaching for someone, something. The movement screams familiarity. Seer’s sleeve pulls back from the movement, the gray fabric giving way to pale skin. A spider lies right above Seer’s inner wrist, a tattoo.

A tattoo.

All he sees is the spider. The spider on his protégés wrist as said protégé passes him the wrench.

Since when did he have a tattoo?

“When’d you get that?” Tony asks, before his mind even catches up. Damn his non-existent brain to mouth filter. Or maybe it’s mouth to brain at this point. He didn’t want to seem like he was coddling his lover, sounding like a disappointed guardian instead of boyfriend.

The man looks up at him, honey-soaked eyes crinkling up in amusement. Knowing that the edge to Tony’s tone isn't one of disapproval, but more of genuine shock.

“A while ago. I’m surprised my body didn’t even flush it out really, given my y’know. Spider shit. I got it about three days ago, and yes— May knows. She didn’t like the idea of me getting tattoos, but after a while she warmed up to it,” The man says, flushing a tad bit as Tony finds himself tracing the shape of the spider on the man’s skin. “I chose it. The spider, I mean. It’ll always be a part of me, y’know? I’ll always be the spider.”

Tony nods, understanding where the man came from. Tony’s fingertips now trace down the man’s palm.

His skin is warm to the touch. It’s softer than Tony’s himself, but still calloused. Must be from all the tinkering he does with Tony and the swinging he does on patrols. Oh, and also from those spars with Bucky. And Winter.

Tony feels himself pull the man closer by the wrist, his body flush against the shorter.

“I like it. It suits you,” He feels himself whisper, a soft smile appearing on his face as he leans in to press a kiss against the man’s cheek. Then down to his jaw, then slowly back up to his lips.

The man kisses him back with ferocity. Strong yet lithe arms resting on his shoulders as he deepens the kiss, dragging his tongue against the seam of his lover’s lips.

“Tony—” The man whispers, eyes blown as he calls for his lover. Beckoning him, asking him—

Tony snaps out of it just as the music changes into something heavier. Angrier. It feels like a whiplash. Seer’s voice is still gentle. Just like that memory, that memory from god knows where. But there’s no love underlying it. There’s no care underlying it. There’s no need. There’s just that sharp edge, hidden under layers of woven silk.

There’s just the unmistakable wrath and anguish as Seer sings the next lines.

Oh, let’s load the gun.
They won’t be missing you— they won’t be missing you.

Tony turns to Winter— no, Bucky now. Bucky turns to him, and they share the same look.

Five years ago, they both felt it. Like a piece of their puzzle being ripped away from them. Like a piece of their lifeline had been ripped away. Like they had been forced to forget something. Something that made them feel whole.

Someone.

Was it him? Was it seer? Questions bubbled up forth between them. And it wasn’t just Tony and Bucky– Bucky could feel Winter. Winter hadn’t retreated fully, and he was well aware. He too was questioning. Confused. Distraught. Worried.

Ashamed. Ashamed for forgetting something, someone so important as it seems.

Was this the person that they’ve been searching for? The nameless John Doe, the one that all those five years ago, they poured their souls into finding? Even FRIDAY couldn’t locate him. Not when every file, every video, every recording of him was distorted. Was fucked up by outside forces.

See you when the wrath comes.

The song cuts off into a music break. The guitar, base and drums all melting into one. Something fluid, like it carries your soul— even with the heavy and foreboding edge to it. It comforts. It aggravates. It backs up all the emotions that Seer has shown. Has sung.

It brings their eyes back to Seer.

He’s standing behind the mic. Head tilted back up as he sways to the music. It’s hypnotic in a sense. But there’s also that feeling of finality. Like acceptance. Like Seer himself has given up on changing fate. That all he can do is curse at the universe. That all he can do is accept what cards he’s been given.

It makes Bucky want to bundle the man up in his arms and run. Run away from what– even he doesn’t know. He just wants to. And it doesn’t help that he has that feeling that Seer was their missing piece. One that just seems to constantly slip away from their fingertips. Out of reach.

It’s clear that Tony feels the same with the way he’s looking back and forth between Bucky and the enigma on stage.

The music slows to a stop. They turn to look at Seer once more— but he’s bowing with his band mates. Giving their thanks silently, before he walks off and disappears behind the curtains of the stage.

Gone. Just like that.

Again.