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Captain Barnes calls him Steve, so that is what he calls himself now. It’s what the Captain wants, and he’s his handler, even if he says he isn’t.
Captain Barnes used to say that. He used to say a lot of things. He’s new to being a handler, that is clear. At first he tried to tell Steve he wasn’t an Asset anymore. He would say he didn’t have protocols or punishments anymore.
Steve knew better. And he knows better than to embarrass a handler in front of their commander.
Captain Barnes has a hard time looking at him sometimes.
Commander Stark doesn’t.
No one told Steve that Stark was their commander, but it isn’t the first time he’s been left to figure out the command structure of an operation on his own. Commander Stark’s rank is easy to spot. The Avengers live in his Tower. He is the leader, relaying orders on their missions and giving out assignments. And, it was Commander Stark who spoke to Captain Barnes.
It was on a day where Steve could feel the unspoken weight of expectations not met, see the storm of conflicting emotions war in Captain Barnes’ eyes that was both frightening and confusing. Commander Stark stepped in, pulling Captain Barnes to the side and speaking to him in low tones Steve was careful not to hear.
After that, Captain Barnes left, and Commander Stark smiled at him, offering to help him load the rest of the breakfast dishes into the dishwasher. Steve refused, of course. The dishwasher is one of the few tasks he’s been able to receive from Captain Barnes, and he knows better than to make a commander do his chores.
Commander Stark sat with him until Captain Barnes returned, and Steve listened intently as he talked about his different projects and the last conference he went to. Captain Barnes came back smelling of wind and leather and he told Steve he could be the Asset still if he wanted to be.
Steve didn’t feel it was the right time to tell Captain Barnes that Assets do not have wants. His handler is learning, adapting. Commander Stark will not appreciate it if he upsets him unnecessarily.
He keeps the name Steve even though Captain Barnes said he could still be the Asset. He still is the Asset, and Captain Barnes wants him to have the name, no matter what he says.
Some things Captain Barnes says are true. The Avengers do not have the Chair or cryofreeze. Instead, Steve is given a cell next to Captain Barnes’ room. It’s the most elaborate cell he’s ever been in.
On long missions he sometimes slept in a cot. He ate rations through a tube. He washed blood off in the sink. Here, he is given a bed. He has a kitchen in his cell, though he hasn’t dared touch it. He takes his meals with Captain Barnes and is grateful for it. He doesn’t know how to make rations and he refused to learn when Captain Barnes tried to teach him. That is a handler’s job.
His cell also has a bathroom. He could wash off blood in the shower. If he had missions. He hasn’t been given any, but he thinks that’s more to do with his handler and the Avengers’ lack of wiping protocols than himself. The shower has a knob that goes all the way to red, for hot water.
He doesn’t use it. Commander Stark is a clever commander. He doesn’t need handlers to lock Steve in his cell or watch to ensure he follows his protocols because he has JARVIS. JARVIS watches Steve when he isn’t training with the Avengers.
So far, Steve has managed to maintain all his protocols. So far, his malfunctions have been small enough and contained enough that JARVIS hasn’t reported them. So far, Commander Stark has had no need to punish him.
Since the day Commander Stark took Captain Barnes aside and Barnes seemed to accept Steve’s status as an Asset better, Commander Stark has been spending more time around Steve.
Captain Barnes leaves Steve to attend to Commander Stark more often. Steve will train with the Commander, or help sometimes in the lab where he designs his armoured suits. It may not be what his skills are typically used for, but Steve is good at lifting heavy plates of metal and holding them in place for Commander Stark to solder.
He can feel Commander Stark’s eyes on him as he strains and lifts the weight. He can feel the weight of his gaze even though Steve tries to keep his eyes down. Commander Stark’s eyes linger on him often in the lab, only pulling away when the draw of a project becomes too much. Steve tries not to think about how Commander Stark looks at him.
If Steve didn’t know better, Commander Stark could be a technician rather than a commander. He works with his hands more than Steve’s previous commanders ever did. He creates things, weapons and equipment for the Avengers. He talks a lot while Steve is in the lab with him, always planning ahead for future projects and solutions to potential problems.
But it’s clear to Steve he is the commander. The first time the mission alarm rang through the base it was Commander Stark who was giving out the orders to the Avengers. He was the one to tell Steve firmly he would not be going.
“No,” he said flatly. “You’re not ready yet, stand down.”
Steve did, clasping his hands behind his back like a dutiful soldier and feeling sick to his stomach.
He isn’t useful as an Asset like this. No one will tell him what his mission is here. They don’t have cryofreeze, and besides training Captain Barnes on handler protocols, he hasn’t done anything here.
Why was he activated?
(He has other protocols he could use here. Protocols he doesn’t want to think about. Protocols that he has been ignoring.)
“You’re better with him than I am,” Captain Barnes tells Commander Stark one day. Commander Stark doesn’t exactly look pleased about that, but he doesn’t argue. Perhaps he can see the turmoil that sits on Captain Barnes’ shoulders like a cloak.
In general, Steve has found Commander Stark is a kind commander. He lets Romanoff and Barton use snark and backtalk, as long as they don’t actually disobey orders. He lets the Hulk and Thor wrestle in the common room kitchen and he only yells at them when they break stuff. He lets Captain Barnes turn over his handler duties to him.
Steve tries not to panic about that.
Stark is a kind commander. But.
He isn’t the only commander he’s ever known to be kind.
Commander Pierce could be kind. Commander Pierce could be—
He wishes the Avengers had a Chair. His memories of his previous handlers and commanders are dim. Bits and pieces. The strike of a palm against his cheek, a kick to the back of his knees. A hand yanking his hair to push him down.
His memories of Commander Pierce have come back stronger than the others. Commander Pierce would keep him out of cryofreeze sometimes, take him to his home for protocols normal handlers usually weren’t privileged enough to use.
Not that that stopped them sometimes.
Commander Pierce could be kind. He liked Steve. He liked— He cut Steve’s hair. It was long before. Handlers would grab it and pull him into position. But Pierce cut it. He liked the look of Steve with his hair short.
He said, “If I’m going to have you on your knees, you might as well look like who you used to be.”
Steve cannot sleep the first night he realises Commander Stark is taking over most of the handling duties from Captain Barnes.
He has a hard time sleeping most nights on the too-soft mattress that always felt like an extravagance. It feels like even more of a ridiculous luxury now. He paces back and forth, trying not to look at it. The bed, his cell, this whole situation is too much.
He could almost ignore it when he was with Captain Barnes. He was useful then, training Barnes on proper handler behaviour. He could pretend all luxuries of the Tower were justified. If not for his own behaviour, then as a test, proving to his new handlers how good he could be.
He doesn't sleep in the bed. He sleeps on the floor. But he has blankets and pillows he's been using from the bed, and that's just the start. His meals here are decadent, his clothes soft and comfortable. He has soap in his shower, and using cold water doesn't make up for that. He's supposed to use cold water. He isn't supposed to have these luxuries unless—
His chest stutters and he stumbles in his pacing.
His handlers didn't have to give him luxuries to use him. But Pierce did. Because Pierce was kind.
He can no longer ignore the reality in front of him. He's being kept active. He isn't being sent on missions. He doesn't have any other tasks anymore. Commander Stark has taken over his handling.
He would be kind about it. Probably. But Steve already knows that kindness does not mean it will not hurt.
He knows with these handlers that he is expected to police himself when it comes to his protocols. Commander Stark has probably been waiting for it. He is lucky he hasn't been punished already for neglecting this part of his duties. But Commander Stark is patient and kind. Probably kinder than Commander Pierce even.
Steve rides the elevator up to Commander Stark's suite. Commander Stark is out, speaking at a city event, and Steve wants to be prepared. He doesn't know how it will be here. He doesn't know how Commander Stark will want it. He needs to show willingness. Compliance.
The door to the suite is locked when Steve tries it. JARVIS speaks up, asking what his intentions are. Steve flinches at his voice. He always does. But he keeps his words steady when he replies.
"To wait for Commander Stark," he says.
JARVIS is silent for a moment, then the latch of the door opens. That, more than anything else, lets Steve know he is correct in his assumptions.
His breathing is shallow and measured as he enters the suite. The lights are off, the rooms dim. He leaves the lights off, not wanting to touch anything unnecessarily. He doesn't know where Commander Stark's room is, but as he searches, he comes across the living room, where he stumbles to a halt.
The commander has a long white sectional facing a large black TV above a fireplace. Steve blinks and the sharp angles of the sectional are replaced with another. A couch with softer curves. A different living room, with blinds closed tight in front of windows, thick beige carpet, a tall palm leafed plant in the corner next to an exotic statue. A TV playing scenes in black and white—
Steve breathes in sharply, sweat dripping down his back. Why do all commanders seem to have white couches?
The white couch is like a signal to his brain and his body moves, a machine completing a task it’s done a hundred times before. Pistons push and pull, joints bend and muscles contract until he’s standing next to the couch with no real memory of how he got there.
He sinks down to his knees on the carpet beside the couch. It’s a lighter cream than Commander Pierce’s carpet. Steve stares at it between his knees, not really seeing it. His head is a distant place, his breathing harsh in the silence of the suite.
He needs to calm down. He needs to be ready. He needs to be compliant.
With numb fingers, he reaches for the hem of his t-shirt and pulls it over his head. He folds it, carefully aligning the edges and smoothing out the wrinkles until he can’t linger on it any more. He tucks the garment under the couch, safely out of the way for later retrieval. He leaves his pants on. Soft grey sweatpants with no clasps or buttons or zippers to get in the way. Easy to remove. No underwear underneath.
His back is damp with sweat, a chill rising on his skin. He breathes in slowly before sitting up and clasping his hands behind his back. He sinks into the expected position, knees spread, back straight, head down.
Wait. He can wait.
The minutes tick away. Steve keeps his eyes away from the white couch. With Commander Pierce, things started there most often. Sometimes he would be used by the handlers at the base, the ones who leered at him in the shower after a mission.
Those sessions were knees on hard tile, his head pressed back against the wall so he couldn't turn away, with the shower still so, so cold on his skin and harsh hands digging into his scalp. Commander Pierce didn’t do that. He was kinder. He—
He liked to have Steve lay against him on the couch, his naked back to Pierce’s front. That’s how it would start. The memories are strong. Stronger than they should be. He wishes the Avengers had a Chair. He wishes Commander Stark’s couch was a different colour.
He can still hear the show Commander Pierce would put on. I Love Lucy, in black and white on the television screen. Steve would be permitted to look while Commander Pierce touched. He can feel his hands now, cold and deliberate, passing over his chest, down his ribs, touching his navel, trailing up to his neck.
Commander Pierce liked to touch. That was the game. If Steve could hold still, be silent, not react, until the end of the episode while Pierce touched, then he could choose how he serviced him. That was the kindness.
Steve always chose his mouth. It was easier, less likely to hurt. He had some control with his tongue how fast he could service his commander. Pierce knew his choice. It’s why they played the game. Pierce always chose the other— the other way.
Steve can hear his breaths, loud and heavy in the stillness of the living room. He’s shivering, the muscles of his shoulders and arms growing stiff and sore. His stomach rolls, cramping with emptiness.
He didn’t eat before this. He couldn’t stomach anything. Pierce would feed him. Another kindness. Another repayment for Steve to make.
Do you want some milk?
Steve’s breath stutters and he fights to find the blank space inside of himself. He cannot malfunction here. He can feel the edges of it, the panic that threatens to overwhelm him. He is better than this. He knows how to follow his protocols. He will show Commander Stark that he is compliant. He can be good—
There’s a sound from the entrance of the suite and Steve’s entire world goes still. His breathing goes silent, his vision pulling back until the world is blurry and indistinct. The blank space opens up inside him. He is ready.
He lets his gaze sharpen gradually as Commander Stark comes into the living room. He is barefoot, wearing dress pants and a white shirt. The first two buttons are undone, his tie across his shoulders.
His eyes widen when he catches sight of Steve and the blurriness returns for a moment as Steve tries not to think of the way Pierce’s eyes would go dark and hungry when he saw him like this. The way his hands would trace over his cheekbone, how his thumb would press against his lip, his other hand following the length of his neck down to his collarbone.
“Steve?”
He’s back in Commander Stark’s living room. Commander Stark is in front of him, staring at him. The room is dark, but the glow of the arc reactor lights up the underside of his face. His expression is— Pinched. Pale white and tense.
Steve’s breath hitches. He’s already messed it up. Commander Stark is unhappy with him. He didn’t know— He didn’t know how he would want it. Should he have gone to the bedroom? Waited by the door?
He doesn’t know. His tongue is too dry to apologise. His arms are shaking behind his back. He has to focus to breathe in slow and steady because his thoughts are tangling up, twisting with fear and apprehension.
Commander Stark’s eyes move quickly, darting over his spread knees, his exposed chest. Steve can’t read his face. Can’t tell what he is thinking. His expression isn’t the same as Pierce’s. It isn’t the hungry glee he got when he was ready to play the game. Steve licks his lips. Tries to say something. Tries to say ready to comply, but the words won’t come.
Commander Stark takes another step closer and Steve’s body tries to flinch. He grits his teeth, pressing his knees to the floor. He’s better than this, he knows better. He could keep still for ages and ages while Commander Pierce touched him. Even when he dug his nails into the sensitive flesh of his chest, twisting and pulling and dragging red marks down over his ribs. That was the game. He could hold still. He could hold still and win and then—
“Steve.” Commander Stark’s voice is soft and he’s kneeling in front of him. Steve doesn’t know what— what that means. “What are you doing?”
Steve’s breath makes a ragged, unsteady sound, and he can’t look above Commander Stark’s chin. “Whatever the commander wants, sir,” he manages.
Commander Stark curses. Something shrivels up inside Steve, a hollow hole expanding and expanding in his chest.
“Okay, okay,” Commander Stark’s voice is rough. “Alright. That’s not— That’s not happening. We’re not doing that. Let’s just, take a breath.” Steve can hardly follow what he is saying, can’t understand where this is going. He doesn’t— He needs to be compliant.
“Where’s your shirt? Never mind. Come up. You don’t have to kneel. Come sit on the couch.”
Come sit on the couch.
Commander Pierce. His hands are on him, Steve’s back tacky with sweat as he holds himself still and compliant against him. He can’t allow even the errant muscle twitch. He must appear to be relaxed. His head is turned, staring unseeingly at the black and white screen, scenes flickering past as an audience bursts into tinny laughter.
Commander Pierce’s hand rests over his throat, not squeezing, holding him, feeling his pulse jump and thrum as his other hand wanders over the expanse of his chest. The touch is delicate, gentle even, but that is a false security. Without warning he will grab and pinch, dig his nails in and pull. Steve cannot move, cannot react. Stay still and silent and he can win the game.
The hand trails over a nipple, already reddened from previous harsh treatment. The episode is almost over. He’s close. He can feel Commander Pierce’s hardness at his back, feel the shift of his hips as he gets impatient. The hand at his throat squeezes briefly, before fingers trace down over his stomach. Steve can feel Pierce’s breath in his hair. The hand grazes over his hipbones, drifts to pluck lazily at the hairs above his pubic bone. The final scene of the episode is playing out, the credit music beginning to swell.
Commander Pierce reaches down between his legs and squeezes.
“Okay, okay, no couch. That’s okay. That’s okay. Steve? Steve. Breathe.”
He's back in Commander Stark’s room, breaths out of control, his body shaking and gasping. No. No. He’s doing it all wrong. He’s going to be punished. He’s going to be hurt.
Softness settles over his shoulders and it takes him several seconds to register the touch of a blanket, silky smooth, fluffy like fur. His hands unclasp automatically to grasp it, pull it around himself, and he doesn’t even realise that he's moved out of position.
“There we go, good.” Commander Stark’s voice. He’s a blurry indistinct shape in front of him. “Breathe in. Slowly. Good.” Steve is good at following directions. He can follow orders. He breathes when Commander Stark tells him to, fingers growing numb with how tight he clutches the folds of the blanket to himself.
“That’s it. Keep breathing. Keep breathing. You’re okay. You’re safe.” Commander Stark’s voice is steady and constant. Like in the lab, when he could talk for hours, letting Steve listen without pushing for a reply or comment.
Steve hugs the blanket to himself. It drapes over his whole body, shielding him. It’s soft and warm and he is so cold. He can feel his body quivering and he can’t seem to stop. The blanket is good and kind and—
“I can repay—” His voice is rough like sandpaper, catching in his throat like he can’t bear to say the words. He swallows hard. “I can repay the commander.”
“Is that what this is? No. No.” Commander Stark’s voice is higher than usual, his words straining against each other. “No, we’re not doing that.”
“Then why—” Steve’s nails dig into the blanket. “Why am I active? What is my purpose if not—” This. “I have no missions. I am not training Captain Barnes. You are the commander and you have given too much. The Asset must follow protocol.”
It is more than he usually speaks but he’s desperate to understand. He doesn't even realise he slipped into calling himself the Asset until too late.
Commander Stark’s face crumples, like a wet tissue, and he looks down, breathing in slowly. He’s still kneeling in front of him, which leaves Steve feeling off-balance. This is not usually how conversations go with his superiors.
“Is that what your previous commanders did?” Commander Stark asks, his voice low.
“Commander Pierce would give— Commander Pierce was kind.”
Commander Stark’s expression darkens. “I strongly doubt that,” he growls. His voice drops. “We should’ve killed that guy slower.”
Before Steve can figure out how to respond to that, Commander Stark breathes in and sets his chin. “Alright, let’s just” – he shifts to lean back against the couch, stretching his legs out in front of him – “sit like this. Com’on. No need to kneel, let’s sit.”
Steve's legs are numb, his knees aching after so long kneeling on the floor and he has to move slowly as he copies Commander Stark. He keeps the blanket wrapped tight, drawing his knees up so it’s all around him, like a fluffy mountain.
Commander Stark sighs, drawing up a knee and resting his arm on it. He runs his other hand through his hair. He looks... troubled. “We keep messing up with you, don’t we?” he mumbles, sighing again. “I’m sorry, Steve.”
Steve stares. He doesn’t know what that means. He doesn’t know how to handle a commander apologising.
Commander Stark turns to look at him. “I know this is hard for you,” he says. “But I’m going to explain some things, and I hope you can believe me.” He takes in a deep breath. “I know what you were before, but you are not the Asset here.” Steve flinches, and Commander Stark’s eyes flicker with something he can’t read.
“I know it’s hard,” he says softly. “You’re allowed to find it hard. But that’s why you don’t have protocols or punishments here. You are not the Asset to us. You’re a person.”
“Why?” Steve rasps. He doesn’t know how to be a person. Why are they making him change when he could be so useful to them as an Asset. He doesn’t need to be a person.
Commander Stark looks sadly at him, but he answers. “Because you were a person before. Hydra turned you into an Asset, but you weren’t always one. I know you don’t remember. But we want to help you be a person again. It’s what you deserve.”
Steve opens his mouth, ready to tell him he is fine with his protocols. He doesn’t need to be a person. He certainly can’t see how it’s something he deserves. But something stops him. A memory rising up with its own white couch and commander.
If I’m going to have you on your knees, you might as well look like who you used to be.
Steve’s hand comes up out of his blanket tent to touch his short-cropped hair, and he stares at Commander Stark. He licks his lips, his thoughts suddenly swirling around in his head.
“Commander Pierce said— He said ‘If I’m going to have you on your knees, you might as well look like who you used to be’.” Commander Stark’s face ripples rapidly through emotions, before hardening as his lips pull flat. “You said I used to be someone.”
“Yes.” Commander Stark’s voice is rough. “You used to be someone named Steve Rogers.”
Steve sits motionless, staring at him. “Commander Pierce knew.”
“Yes,” Commander Stark says again. “Yes, he knew. And a lot of what Hydra did to you was to keep you from remembering that. The memory wipes and training. Hydra didn’t want you to be a person.”
It is the same things Captain Barnes tried to tell him. Steve wasn’t ready to hear it then, he’s barely able to hear it now. But it’s the only thing that makes sense. The only reason why he hasn’t been sent on missions. Why he hasn’t been punished. Why he’s been given so many things and Commander Stark hasn’t used him.
“I don’t know how to be a person.” The words are soft, barely audible, his stomach clenching with apprehension at the daunting prospect.
“That’s okay,” Commander Stark says instantly. “We know it’s hard. We know it will take a while. You don’t have to figure it out all at once. You can take the time you need.”
You can still be the Asset if you want to be, Captain Barnes told him once.
“What am I supposed to do here?” he asks a little desperately. “I don’t know what to do without a mission.” It’s part of why he was kneeling in Commander Stark’s living room in the first place. Maybe he’s supposed to be a person, but he needs a mission.
Commander Stark is quiet for a little while. “How about this,” he says finally. “Your mission is learning the skills people use. You don’t have to be a person until you’re ready, but learning things beyond your protocols is useful. You won’t be so reliant on handlers.”
Oh. Like how Captain Barnes tried to teach him. He’s starting to realise he wasn’t learning to be a handler at all. He was trying to teach Steve how to be a person.
Commander Stark breathes in. “Okay, now that that’s settled, let’s establish something else.” His voice is firm, drawing Steve’s attention, and his gaze is steady as he looks at Steve, making sure he is listening.
“This protocol,” he waves at Steve. “Kneeling, doing whatever the commander wants, that is not how things are done here. You never have to do that. Not for me or anyone. You never, ever have to do anything like that that you don’t want to.”
Steve takes in a shuddery breath, staring. To have it all laid out like that... His shoulders collapse and he pulls his knees closer to his chest, breathing in.
“JARVIS let me in,” he says suddenly. “Why did JARVIS let me in if not...”
Commander Stark’s face flashes with surprise and his hand flexes on his knee. “JARVIS is programmed to let you go wherever you want,” he says. “He will let you go anywhere that isn’t dangerous.”
Steve stares at him. He’s used to thinking of JARVIS as a jailer. Not... a guide to freedom.
Commander Stark’s face softens. “I know it’s hard,” he says. “Would it be easier if you had a different name for me? I know what you had before, but I’m not the commander here. I may be the leader of the Avengers, but I’m still an Avenger. Not some crazy rank above them.”
He looks at Steve for a while. “And even if I was, that doesn’t give me the right to rape my subordinates.”
Steve holds very still. “I wouldn’t fight.”
“That doesn’t mean it isn’t rape, Rogers.”
Something fractures in Steve’s chest and he has to take in a slow, halting breath. He blinks away wetness in his eyes, clinging to the blanket. “What should I call you?” he says at last.
“How about Tony?”
oOo
He can’t get used to ‘Tony’ right away. It’s too much of a jump from his old protocols, but he settles on ‘Avenger Tony’, which gets him an amused grin and a pleased look. He likes it. It reminds him of what Avenger Tony said. He may be the leader of the Avengers, but he isn’t ranked above them. He’s just an Avenger.
Learning to be a person is difficult. He doesn’t know how to do it, and it’s difficult not to feel like he’s failing at the task. Avenger Tony tells him he cannot fail at the task, he must only keep trying.
It takes him a while, but eventually he works up the courage to approach Captain Bucky. That is another name he is trying out. Edging closer to what the other Avengers call him. Captain Bucky has given him his space while he struggled with being the Asset, but he hasn’t forgotten how he tried to help him be a person, how he let him not be one when he wasn’t ready.
That kindness feels more true than anything Commander Pierce ever did.
Captain Bucky smiles at him when he sees him come. Steve breathes in, prepares himself. He isn’t quite a person yet, but he’s ready to try.
“Can you teach me how to cook?” he asks, and Captain Bucky’s smile widens.
“Yes,” he says quietly. “I would love to.”
The End