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“Can’t sleep?”
Bucky stands a silhouette at Tony’s door, illuminated by the soft light of his bedroom hallway, metal arm hanging limp at his side; an instinctive safeguard Bucky seemed to have developed whenever he had nightmares, perhaps with the belief that making the ‘weapon’ go limp he was less likely to harm anyone - or at least, that’s the conclusion Tony had come to. The soldier’s right shoulder is propped against the bedroom doorframe, stringy locks of brown hair only just managing to conceal most of Barnes’ paled face, his normally bright eyes concealed in the shadows - though Tony knows they’re focused on him, they usually were. Barnes says nothing, doesn’t move, but the genius knows what he needs, regardless - this wasn’t the first time, after all.
Shifting a little more towards the middle of his bed, Tony pulls back his blankets, inviting, before laying back down. Tony knows this song and dance by heart now, and doesn’t hesitate trying to find his way back to sleep, even when he hears his door click shut casting him back into total darkness. Tony doesn’t tense as he may once have when he feels his bed dip, nor when large arms and an ever larger body curl around him. Instead, Tony does what he always does on nights like these, he leans into Bucky’s trembling warmth, breathes steadily, and properly relishes in the way the super soldier slowly falls into step with him. He stopped Bucky’s trembling, and that alone made something - something he wasn’t willing to name - swell and warm in his chest.
It started pretty early on, when Steve had first brought Barnes to the Tower after months of trying to hunt the man down, and Tony had welcomed him with open arms - yes, in-spite of their shared sordid history. Barnes didn’t do what he did out of his own volition, and Tony knew what that was like…perhaps a little too much - Stane had given him a taste of that bitter medicine, oh so many years ago, after all.
Tony had been on an inventing binge when he’d resurfaced in what felt like ungodly hour, his body’s need for sleep paired his brain’s need for a break finally catching up with him in the form of screeching muscles and a brain that believed E equaled MC Hammer, and it was after that moment that Tony thought yeah, I need to sleep, with a resigned huff. However, Tony was quick to discover he wasn’t the only one awake as ass-o’clock at whatever point in the day it was, but was too tired to freak out over the balled up figure that was one Bucky Barnes, hiding away in the corner of the living room like a scared child. Instead, Tony shuffled into said living room, plunked down on one of the large sofas, and called out to the trembling man.
“Wanna be my snuggle buddy?” It was hardly a line, hell, if he and Pepper had still been together he would have fully understood it if he got a face-full of pillow, but Stark had been far too exhausted to be surprised that it had worked.
Bucky’d probably hesitated, but Tony barely noticed the time between his offer and the feeling of another body slotting behind his own against the cushions, because once that warmth was pressed against his back Tony was pretty sure he’d just passed out - Barnes was just that damn comfy, what could he say? And so on it went, both men catching each other at odd hours, seeking out each other’s comfort and warmth when one would dream of being lost infinite darkness or drowning in a cave; when the other would dream of hundreds of volts tearing through his tendons, his mind shredded apart once again, and the screaming pleads of countless victims deafening him. On those nights, Bucky and Tony always found themselves in the other’s arms, silent but grounding.
Tonight wasn’t any different, or at least is hadn’t been, until Barnes spoke - Barnes never spoke on nights like these.
“Why?” Tony feels the question more so than hears it, but it’s enough to pull him from his lull into oblivion.
“Why what?” His voice is just as quiet, if sleep-graveled, and blinks his eyes open in the darkness to ensure he’ll be awake to answer - because, again, Barnes never spoke on nights like these.
“Why do you let...let me come to you?” It’s a loaded question, Tony knows, but he was never good with being ‘deep’ - he has the failed relationships to prove it.
“Because you let me do the same.” It’s flippant, but true to form, so of course Barnes won’t accept it - the bastard was more stubborn than Steve when he wanted to be.
Tony feels the warm huff against the back of his neck, and if he were a better man he’d say it didn’t alight his spine - if he were a better man, so instead he works to suppress a shiver. Bucky had never actually confided in Tony before, most of their daily interactions consisted of quips and banter, while their nightly unions were silent, and the next morning they’d each wake up alone as though it had all been a dream - Tony had actually believed he’d dreamt up their first ‘Snuggle Session’, as he’d dubbed it, until it’d happened again a week later. Tony’s pulled from his thoughts when he feels Bucky’s arms tighten around his middle, nose burying into the warm crook of his neck, and Stark can’t fight off the need to lean further into the soldier’s touch - Tony would call it pathetic, how he truly believed he’d never felt warmth like he did when it came from Barnes, but his pride wouldn’t let him.
If it was true or not was irrelevant.
“I don’t believe that’s the reason,” Barnes mumbles against his skin, and Tony’s acutely aware of Bucky’s upgraded prosthetic thumb rubbing circles over the delicate skin of his hipbone, “but I won’t push.”
Something about that, about the knowledge - no, the fact - Bucky wouldn’t push Tony for answers like so many had before, no matter how good their intentions - Pepper, Rhodey, Steve, hell even Happy had all done it - but here was, his Snuggle Buddy not demanding but simply asking. Tony’s heart twists in a way he doesn’t remember it doing since he’d seen his mother’s body on the mortician’s cold slab, the twist of knowledge and emotion of knowing good intentions were lost, but where they really lost this time? Here was Barnes, with nothing to gain or lose from this exchange, but instead willing to take whatever Tony chose to give him - a truth or a lie, he’d accept it, if it’s what Stark chose to give. And wasn’t that just the antithesis of who Bucky Barnes was, after so many years under HYDRA’s control? A man who would give everyone a choice, no matter how inconsequential, because for decades he’d never been given a choice. The minutes of silence stretch, but don’t grow stifling or awkward, and Tony finds that it’s is voice that breaks the silence - and if it takes him longer to realize it’s him speaking than it probably should, well...he’s blaming it on the way Bucky’s fingers ghost over his hips.
“When I woke up in that damn cave, aside from from the indescribable pain, I felt cold...not the kinda cold that needs a jacket and blanket and you’ll be fine, the kind that…that-” Tony trails, trying to find the right words, and - as heart breaking as it is - it isn’t surprising when Barnes says what he cannot.
“That buries itself in your bones,” Bucky‘s hold on Tony tightens fractionally, “feels like it’ll never leave, ‘cause it’s in your marrow.”
Stark sighs, deep and heavy, like a load is slowly seeping out of him, “I thought of all people, Cap would get it, that he’d understand what it felt like thinking you were drowning in ice water in your bed. But…Steve’s nightmares are of what he left behind, the people that he lost, like you and and aunt Peggy…what could have been, not...not what he’s been through-”
“-which’ll probably reach an explosive breaking point.”
“Tell me about it,” Tony chuckles softly, knowing that despite their light tone they were both genuinely worried about the ticking bomb that was Steve’s PTSD, but they knew - with Rogers being the stubborn mule that he was - all they could do was wait and be there for him when Steve needed them. “You understand, though.”
Bucky doesn’t speak, but Tony can feel the way he tenses ever so slightly against him, as though trying to bodily will Tony into explaining further, “I don’t remember that first night, at least not much of it, to be honest - black out work-binge an’ all. Though after that...when you held me, you were like a burning furnace but still trembled, hot and cold all at once - which is a description usually reserved exclusively for me, FYI - and I just knew, somehow, you understood what it felt like. You made me feel...warm.”
It seemed like a stupid, nonsensical explanation, but for all his ramblings and quips, it was the honest to God truth. Tony would blame it on the darkness, blame the visionless void that enveloped them for the honesty that escaped him, coupled with the reassurance that with his back turned he wouldn’t have to face the look of incredulity in Bucky’s eyes - that it was easier to verbally-vomit his emotions and thoughts in the darkness, because come morning he could deny it all. Because come daybreak, Tony would wake up alone, like he always did after nights like these. However, for a second time tonight, Barnes surprises Tony.
“For a while…for years actually, I forgot what it felt like to be warm,” Bucky rasps softly, words spoken into the skin of Tony’s neck rather than the open air, “when I was the Asset, I was made to forget a lot of things, but with how much they put me on ice I forgot that being warm was even a possibility.”
Tony wanted to make a witty quip about ‘being kept on ice’, or perhaps give in to the sudden visceral need to hunt down each and every last HYDRA agent and tear them limb from limb, but bit is tongue and pointedly remained still - Pepper would call it maturity, Tony would argue that he just liked the way Bucky’s voice sounded too much to interrupt.
“I was sent on missions in deserts, places with heat and humidity at levels that would probably put the seventh circle of hell to shame, but even then...”
“You never felt warm.”
“Not once,” Bucky’s voice shakes ever so slightly, “even when I got away from them, even when Steve found me, I still...I still felt like there were damn icicles in the marrow of my fuckin’ bones. I could barely sleep when Stevie first brought me here, hell Steve was the only person I would even let near me, but then, your crazy ass-”
“-I’m rich, so it’s ‘you’re fantastic, eccentric ass’, thank you very much-“
“-offers to cuddle with a damn ex-assassin-“
“-I’m special that way-”
“No, you give Stevie high blood pressure that way,” Bucky chuckles at Tony’s little snarky inputs, and Stark smiles as he feels Barnes do the same against his skin, the levity helping ease the heavy moment. Tony doesn’t whine or groan when Bucky hugs him tighter, just tight enough to make each breath a little more of a struggle, because through it all Bucky doesn’t shake.
“But that night, for the first time...I didn’t feel afraid of touching someone who wasn’t as juiced up as I am, so when you offered I just did, with probably less thought than I should have but...goddamn it Tony I felt warm.”
Tony mourns the smile he knows falls away from Barnes’ face, even if he doesn’t see it, because the few time he had seen snatches of it - in the rare moments he or Steve managed to pull them out of Barnes - Tony knows it’s a sight to behold. Knows it’s a damn crime to deprave the world of it.
“I didn’t want to let go.”
Tony doesn’t know if he was meant to hear that last part, but he does, and it’s almost comical the way his brain grinds to a halt at the simple combination of words. No one had ever wanted to hold on to Tony, he knew holding onto him for any short period of time was hard enough - Pepper’s attempts had proved as much, bless her - to handle, and knew - everything from his personality to his reckless lifestyle - that holding onto him for any amount of time was probably like trying to hold onto rope with your bare hands; eventually, you’d have to let go, or bare the painful consequences. However, as much as Tony wanted to rebuke Bucky’s statement, as much as he wanted to outright laugh at its incredulity, he just...couldn’t; he’d be a fool to deny the near heart wrenching conviction in it, and Tony Stark - for all his flaws - was no fool.
“Then why did you?” It’s a simple enough question, but for the first time all night the darkness and silence suddenly seemed like too much, stretched taut in the few seconds within Bucky’s silence - a fork in the road was reached; Bucky would either walk away and probably never return, or-
“I don’t know,” Tony wants to argue, it’s a copout, but knows it would be cruel...at least until Barnes continued, “but I still want to…stay, I mean...”
Tony almost hears the silent question there, the lingering scent of hope and anxiety, and feels the way Bucky’s chest stutters while pressed against his back - this idiot, is all Tony can think.
“You try to leave and I throw you out a window and get a body pillow with Doctor Strange’s face on it,” Tony warns, pointedly taking one of Bucky’s hands in his own, lacing their fingers together as he leans back against the solider. “Oh yeah, I went there.”
There’s a pause and Tony worries for a split-second, before an ungraceful snort has him grinning like a right goon.
“Gotta say, his beard is rather charming, so I’d understand,” Bucky nuzzles his face into the side of Stark’s neck, the telltale feeling of a grin against his skin making a similar one curl on Tony’s own lips, “but I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”
“Holding you to that, Soldier.”
If Tony wakes the next morning with a smile, only for it to grow wider when he has to climb over the near-comatose lump next to him, and shamelessly makes hot coco for him and said ‘lump’ for breakfast - despite Steve’s disapproving gaze - well...that’s just because he’d had a good night’s sleep and woke up warm; if Bucky’s smile from behind the rim of his own mug tells Tony anything, it’s that he did, too.
As for the warmth curling contently in his chest?
Well…Tony’s chalking that down to the hot coco doing its magic - this time, anyway.