Archive of Our Own

Steve volunteers to get their next round of drinks, and Sam and Nat only put up token protests. Technically it's Nat's turn, but Sam would rather he go than her, and Steve would rather he go than either of them. So away he goes.

It takes longer when Steve goes, of course. Despite what some people used to say (still say, like Hammer, that ass) Steve is, in fact, tall enough to see over the counter. He's just not big enough to catch the barkeep's eye quickly. Nor is he big enough to maneuver through the crowd quickly on his way up, and half the time he ends up getting jostled so much on his way back one or more of the drinks will spill. It's not that people are cruel to him, exactly, it's that they just - don't notice him.

So he leans over the bar and waves whenever the barkeep is facing his direction and patiently waits to see if this, THIS will be the time he actually has to go back to his friends and say he couldn't order. It's a fear that's horrible and persistent but not, he feels, unreasonable.

When someone else slides into the space right in front of him, he does nothing except sigh, because that's one more person likely to get a drink before him. There are a lot of people, but not so many that he's beset. No one's bumping into him yet. Which is why he actually notices a touch to the back of his hand where it rests on the edge of the bar.

He turns, and finds a man standing next to him. A man who is stunningly attractive. He's facing the barkeep, too, and his hand is resting on the bar close enough that it's brushing Steve's.

Steve just sighs and moves his hand. With Bucky still overseas, he's starting to take his talks about being careful while he's gone more seriously. Not because Steve thinks he needs to be more careful, or because he doesn't know how he'll get out of fights without Bucky beside him, but because now that Bucky's in constant danger he's got a bit more empathy.

There's a nudge at his hip, now, and Steve doesn't look. Can this guy even see that he's here? Does he even realize he's bumping into him? Honestly, past experience says probably not.

"Hey," says a voice close to his ear, "let a guy buy you a drink?"

He turns, and the guy next to him is looking - kind of in his direction, actually. Steve looks behind himself, and yeah, there's no one else there even kind of facing them.

"What?" Steve says.

The guy smiles, Steve's breath catches, and he reneges on his earlier evaluation: this guy is stunningly, breathtakingly attractive. And it sure seems like he's looking at Steve.

"Let me buy you a drink," the guy says, his smile growing wider. "I realize you don't know me from Adam, but hey, free booze is free booze, right?"

"Right," says Steve, slowly. What the fuck is going on?

He knows what's going on. Or at least, he knows what it sure seems like is going on. Because this, this right here, is why no one likes it when Nat goes to the bar: she gets hit on so much it's annoying for her and anyone waiting for her to get back, and painful for anyone else. Sam has much the same problem, though not quite so bad. And Steve? Gets to go instead of either of them, because he has never been hit on at a bar a day in his life.

"Now that's what I call enthusiasm!" the guy laughs. He flags down the barkeep, and the barkeep comes over. It's like a magic trick.

The guy orders, then motions to Steve. He's so busy wondering what the fuck is happening here that he just orders on autopilot, and doesn't realize what he's done till the guy laughs. "Either you're an alcoholic with wildly divergent tastes or you just ordered drinks for your friends, too. Either way I salute your moxie." The barkeep sets down his drink just in time for him to pick it up and salute Steve.

"I - I'm sorry," Steve stammers, completely mortified. "I didn't mean - of course you don't have to get - Those are all on me," he says to the barkeep when he sets the three drinks down in front of Steve.

"What would be the point of that?" the guy asks, giving his card to the barkeep. The barkeep, who doesn't even look at Steve's out held hand, like it's not even there. Oddly enough, with this stranger staring at him, Steve doesn't really mind being ignored by anyone else.

"I'm so sorry," Steve repeats. "What do I owe you?"

"Just a smile," the guy says.

Steve can't do anything but gape.

After a moment of looking at him expectantly, the guy shrugs and sips his own drink. "Worth a shot," he says.

Steve has no idea what to say. He's not even sure what's going on here. Oh, he knows the script, of course; he's seen it played out enough times that he could sketch every move and nuance from memory. But aimed at him? It's completely outside his experience.

"Have we met?" Steve finally asks. Because that's a reasonable explanation, right? Maybe this is some kid Steve went to high school with whom he doesn't recognize. Or something. And he does look vaguely familiar - up till now Steve assumed it was because he probably looked like a movie star or something, but now he thinks he's seen that goatee somewhere before.

"Not formally yet," the guy says. He turns and leans his elbow on the bar so he's facing Steve head-on, and Steve wants everyone else in the building to clear out and shut off most of the lights and bring him his goddamned sketch pad.

"Tony." And he holds out his hand.

Steve shakes more because it's a reflex than because he means to. "Steve," he says.

"Well, Steve," says Tony, "dare I ask who the other drinks are for?"

Also mostly on reflex Steve says, "My two favorite alternate personalities."

Tony lets out a startled laugh. The lines of this man are insane, and Steve can't help how intently he's watching them. It's the only reason he notices the way Tony's shoulders drop with that laugh, like he's - relaxing.

"Okay," Tony says, still chuckling. "Fair answer. And hey, it takes care of my next question, too, so points for brevity."

Steve asks, "What was your next question?"

And Tony answers, "Whether or not one of them was for your signif."

"My - My signif?" Steve splutters.

"Yeah," says Tony. "Signif. Short for significant, shorter for significant other. S.O. Main squeeze. Your bae, your boo, partner, live-in ordinary person, lover, spouse -"

"I know what 'signif' means," says Steve, still too confused to be polite. "I'm just wondering why you care."

"Because if you say yes, one of those is for your signif, then I won't ask you for your phone number."

Steve's having an asthma attack. Or a panic attack. Or a heart attack. Or something. His chest is tight and his ears are ringing and he can't take his eyes off Tony's gorgeous, gorgeous face.

He knows the script. He knows it like the back of his hand. He's never had to use it before, but he knows what he wants his own next line to be.

"I don't have a girlfriend." Steve looks down at the three drinks, then back up at Tony. "And I don't have a boyfriend, either."

"Good," says Tony quickly. "Good. That's good."

They both just stand there for a moment. Steve doesn't know what to do with his hands.

"Right!" Tony says. Steve almost jumps. "Right, okay, so that was you saying you're single, right? Okay. So. That was you, now this is me asking for your number."

"Okay," Steve says. He realizes he's smiling. It makes his face ache, but pleasantly; like putting down something heavy he hadn't realized he was carrying.

"Here," Tony says, handing his phone to Steve. He shoves it too far and Steve fumbles for it and it almost drops, but somehow between the two of them Steve manages to get a grip on it. It's already open to a new contact, and Steve's hands are shaking so bad it takes two tries to get his own damn number in right, but eventually he manages.

He passes the phone back and Tony takes it without looking away from Steve's face. Their fingers brush. Steve pulls his hand back quickly.

"There it is," Tony says.

"What?" Steve asks.

Tony's face relaxes into a happy grin. "That smile, Steven, that smile."

Steve can feel himself blushing, his embarrassment is intense, but he doesn't care and he can't stop smiling anyway.

"I've spent some time in sales, you know," Tony says, suddenly looking seductive again, leaning back against the bar and taking a sip from his drink. He swallows. His throat moves. Steve swallows, too.

"Really," says Steve. The part of him that's not watching Tony is wondering if he's suddenly going to get a rundown of Tony's job and car and The Stats (as Sam and Nat and Steve's other friends who get hit on call them) for why he'd be a Good Catch.

Tony nods. "And you know what one of the very most important rules in sales is?"

"No, what?" Steve asks. He takes a risk and leans against the bar too, and doesn't slip and fall flat on his ass, which is another sign that this must be a dream.

He's expecting an answer about, y'know, how to actually sell things. Maybe something a little bit flirty. But Tony keeps smiling at him and says, "The single most important rule in sales is this: have a goal going in, and once you achieve that goal, get the fuck out."

Startled, Steve laughs. "Really? Why?"

"Because," Tony says, "once you get what you came for you literally cannot get anything more. It's impossible. If you keep talking, the one and only thing you can do is talk people out of giving what you've already got. So as soon as they agree to what you want, you say thanks and get the hell out of Dodge."

"Really," says Steve. He's laughing.

Tony says, "Really really. Will you go out with me sometime?"

The non-sequitur throws Steve. For a second he just stands there with his mouth open, laughing and startled and off-balance in the best possible way, and then he scrapes together two brain cells to say something at least KIND OF flirty back and says, "I honestly don't see how I could not, now."

"Great," Tony says, his grin going a bit unhinged, and Steve can't help but laugh. "That's, that's really great. I'll, um, I'll text you later and we can set something up, okay?"

"Okay," says Steve.

"Right!" Tony straightens up and snags his drink, backing away. "Okay! Fantastic! I'm going to stop talking to you now so you don't change your mind. See ya!" And with a grin and a wink he saunters off into the crowd.

Steve laughs into his drink, too wrong-footed and happy to think about what just happened.

After a second he manages to remember that he can't just stand there staring off in the direction Tony went all night, so he turns to collect the drinks from the bar. It takes a bit of doing to carry three drinks in awkwardly-shaped glasses in only two hands, and by the time he's got them situated he's ready to die of embarrassment.

Because he's just realized everyone is looking at him, wondering what on earth just happened there. Because everyone knows that what it looks like cannot possibly be what really happened. Things that seem too good to be true generally are.

People who look like Tony don't talk to people like Steve, much less ask them out. But Tony does and Tony did, so. Evidence points to the contrary. Evidence upsetting their worldviews just happened right in front of their collective attractive faces, and really Steve almost can't blame them for staring. But only almost.

Steve gets halfway back to their table before he realizes his face is probably still red. He doesn't know how to deal with Sam and Nat. No idea what to say.

What even CAN he say? 'I know you guys get hit on so much you complain about it, but guess what, it just happened to me, and I'm so fucking happy I can't stop smiling?' Probably no. 'I know all the people who mack on you guys in bars are creeps and assholes, but seriously, the person who just did it to me is different, you guys, I swear.' Yeah, that's not better.

So when he gets back to their table what he does say is, "I've gotta go to the restroom," and he sets the drinks down and walks away before either of them can get a good look at him.

Off he goes, and when he does he sees Tony pull himself away from a group of people. Steve's heart starts beating faster. Tony doesn't see him, since Steve is so short he only sees Tony around the crowd instead of over it, and after a few steps he realizes he and Tony are going in the same direction. And then he wonders what on earth he's going to do if they go into the bathroom at the same time. He'll hide in a stall, he decides. But then Tony throws himself down in a booth instead, and for one moment Steve's relieved.

And then.

Tony throws himself down in a booth filled with other beautiful people, puts his hands over his face, and yells, "I cannot believe I just did that!"

And everyone else starts laughing and yelling and the person sitting beside Tony claps him on the back and someone on the other side of the table throws a straw at him. Tony's laughing behind his hands, and everyone else is pointing and teasing and saying things like, "I never thought I'd live to see this day!" and "You actually did it! You fucking dickwad!" and "I can't believe you actually talked to him!"

And Steve. Steve just.

Because the thing is. If something seems too good to be true? It is.

And Steve? Has never once in his life gotten attention from someone like Tony. Much less gotten asked out by someone like Tony.

Evidence in favor of Steve just not being all that attractive: every interaction with strangers his entire life.

Evidence in favor of Tony being attracted to Steve: asking for his phone number.

Steve's stomach drops to somewhere around his shoes.

Because evidence that Tony only did it as a joke: overwhelming.

Steve's going to be sick.

No. No. Steve is not going to be that person. He's not going to just assume the worst of everyone. Just because it looks like Tony asked him out on a dare or a bet or something doesn't mean -

And then one of the guys sitting across from Tony raises his arms and says, "Hold up, hold up, hold up! Deets or it didn't happen, Tony."

A hush falls over the table, everyone looking at Tony and holding their collective breath.

Tony pulls out his phone, lights the screen, and slaps it on the table. "Read it and weep, bitches!"

Everyone starts laughing again, and the other guy picks it up, his face going exaggeratedly surprised. "A phone number! Doth mine eyes deceive or did the bastard get a fucking phone number!"

"Probably to a sex offender hotline," someone else says. Everyone laughs, even Tony.

"One way to find out," someone else says, snatching the phone.

"No!" Tony lunges. A few seconds of wrestling and Tony's got the phone back in his hand.

"That wasn't the bet anyway," someone says. "The bet was whether or not Tony would even talk to him."

"True! True!" some of them yell.

"Aww, we didn't think he'd really do it!" some of them yell.

"Pay up! Come on! You owe me!" some of them yell.

Some of them actually pull out their wallets. And all of them are laughing.

Tony's laughing.

Steve turns around and walks out.

Steve stands outside for a little while before he texts Sam and Nat that he's going home. Nat calls him immediately and tells him they're both coming over to her place instead, and before he can even work up a good protest they tumble out of the bar and into the street. So they go to Nat's and Steve doesn't tell them what happened.

Tony texts him later that night and Steve excuses himself to the bathroom and splashes water on his face so they don't realize he maybe cried a little. He's about to go back into the living room when he realizes Nat is going to figure it all out anyway, so he pulls out his phone and delete's Tony's text. Then blocks his number for good measure. Then he goes to face his well-intentioned friends.

True to his expectations and despite his best efforts, they do figure it out. Well, part of it, anyway. He won't tell them Tony's name, because they love him and he knows what they'd do. That, and they think Tony was just stringing Steve along for a while; don't realize that Steve fell for it hook, line, and sinker. Don't realize that there was an entire table full of people laughing their heads off at him.

He can't bring himself to tell them. For their sake, too, but mostly because he doesn't think he'll ever be able to say the words without throwing up.

When he gets home that night he wants to talk to Bucky, wants him desperately - but Bucky's gone and their next call isn't for almost a week. He spends half a fruitless hour trying to write an email to Bucky before he realizes he doesn't want to; what he wantws isn't to send Bucky news about himself, it's to read new words from Bucky. But that's not something he can ask for (at least, not without worrying Bucky, and the guy's got enough to worry about right now without knowing Steve got played), so he falls asleep reading through all Bucky's old emails instead. There's no point dwelling on Tony or what happened.

Best not to think about it.

Steve does well for a few days. As well as can be expected, anyway.

Then Monday rolls around and Steve almost gives up on life. Because he walks from the bus to the building he works in and catches sight of a man in a grey suit with a distinctive goatee hurrying through the lobby, and almost smacks himself in the face when he realizes why Tony looked familiar the other night.

Tony works here, too.

Not at the same company as Steve, thank fucking Christ, but in the same building. And yeah, seeing him in this context and in a suit instead of in a bar, Steve remembers also seeing him out of the corner of his eye in the building sandwich shop a few times. He'd never gotten close enough to get a good look, which is why he hadn't immediately recognized him the other night. But still. This is bad enough.

Still best not to think about it.

So he starts taking the stairs (even though it makes him pant for ten minutes after) and avoids the sandwich shop like the plague (even though that means he has to start cooking his lunches the night before). All in all, he does reasonably well.

That is, he does reasonably well until a week later, when he decides to go to the library after work. He's a block away from the building when he hears someone behind him shout, "Steve!"

He turns around and sees Tony running after him. He wants to just keep walking, but he ALSO wants to stand his ground and use Tony's momentum against him to punch him in the face, so.

But before Tony quite gets to him he slows down a bit, panting, and holds up his hands. "Hey, man," he says, and the nervousness in his smile is so overwhelming it manages to catch Steve's attention. "Have you gotten any of my texts?"

"I got the first one," Steve says.

"Oh," Tony says. "I, um. I sent you more than that. Is, uh, is your phone not working? Or maybe mine's not. It's, I mean, a hunk of shit, of course, let, um, let me text you again and see if it works -" 

In lieu of punching Tony in the face Steve says, "I blocked your number."

It's gratifying because Tony's reaction is much the same, drawing back and his shoulders hunching. His face shuttering. "What? Why?"

Steve sighs. "Look, I heard you, okay? I heard you."

"What are you talking about?" Tony says. He comes a step forward, his hands still up, like he's coaxing a wild animal out of a snare. Steve glares, and he stops moving.

"The other night. At the bar."

Tony looks like he's expecting more, then he says hesitantly, "When - when I asked you out -?"

"No," Steve snaps, angry now and seeing it all happening in front of him again. "I accidentally walked past your table and I fucking HEARD YOU, Tony, you and your friends all laughing at me -"

"Oh my god," Tony interrupts. "Oh my god. Oh my god." And he laughs.

But not like he's laughing at Steve. He's got one hand on his hip and one hand running through his hair and his laugh is hysteric, like he's shocked and sick, and it's not what Steve's expecting at all.

"What?" says Steve. "You gonna tell me I misheard? Or that I misunderstood?"

"You did -"

"No I didn't!" All the horrible things Steve's been trying to not think about coming spilling out of his mouth like he'd been planning this all along. "Well, I heard, I figured it out, so I'm out. You aren't going to trick me again, and I am sure as HELL not going to just let you charm me again so you can win the next bet too!"

"Wait!" Tony says, desperate, his hands coming out like he's going to take Steve by the shoulders before he snatches them back. Half to himself he mutters, "Wait, I can fix this. I can fix this, I can fix this."

"There's nothing to fix!"

Tony runs a hand through his hair again, then jabs a finger towards Steve. "Would you recognize any of them again?"

Once again, Steve's thrown so off-balance by something so unexpected that all he can say is, "What?"

"Would you recognize any of them again," Tony says, coming to stand right in front of him. "Anyone who was talking shit at the bar. Would you -"

"Yeah, sure," Steve snaps. Because even though he'd like to pretend otherwise, he's going to remember everything about that night in HD and surround sound for a long, long time.

"Okay. You recognize her?" Tony fishes out his phone, taps the screen twice (holding it low enough for Steve to see that all he does is navigate to his favorite contacts), and holds out a contact with a picture.

Steve would like to pretend that no, he doesn't know this woman from Eve. But his Ma taught him to be honest even when it hurts, so he grits, "Yeah," because she's vivacious and she's beautiful and she was there.

Without another word Tony hits call, puts it on speakerphone, and holds it between them so he can talk into the mic and they can both hear.

It only rings once before she picks up with, "Tony? What happened?"

"Darcy!" says Tony. "Darcy, Darce, my dear, my darling, if I were to say the word 'Steve' -"

"Oh my God did he text you back?" she shrieks.

Tony looks Steve in the eye with this tiny little smile and says, "No. He hasn't."

There's a beat of silence, and then Darcy sighs. "Look, Tony, I love you, I really do, and I am so sorry that he hasn't. But I am literally trying to do the work of three people simultaneously so we can get by a little longer without having to hire another admin, and there are calls waiting on two other lines. I cannot do this right now, okay? But I'll come over later. All right? We can eat chocolate and watch dramatic Mexican telenovas and drool over Lito Rodriguez and bitch about the inability of men to commit."

"That sounds great, but I may need a raincheck." And fuck Steve, but his voice sounds so tentatively hopeful.

Darcy sighs again. "All right. Text me. Love you, Tony."

"You too, Darcy. Don’t break too many hearts today, okay?"

She laughs. "We’ll see." She hangs up.

"What about him?" Tony doesn't miss a beat, turning his phone to show another contact to Steve. This one's labeled "Rhodey Snugglebums." He, too, is unbearably handsome, and he too laughed his ass off at Steve.

"Yeah, but -" Steve starts and it's ringing before he can even decide what to say.

"Hey, Tones," says the man who was sitting next to Tony at the bar. "What's up?"

Tony says, "So about that bet the other night -"

"Oh man, I am going to kill you, Jesus Christ I cannot believe I lost a bet to Barton because of you!"

"Just for the record," Tony says, "remind me again the specific terms of said bet?"

The man chuckles. "It was all very complicated. We drew up a contract and everything. Jane has it somewhere, or maybe Loki, so I don't have all the details."

"Summarize."

"Look, man, all you had to do was pine in silence for a measly three more days and I'd've won, you asshat. The one time you decide to grow some self-esteem and actually talk to the guy -"

"Love you too, sugarbear," Tony says hurriedly, "and by the way say hi to the room because surprise you're on speakerphone!" and then he hangs up in the middle of Rhodey's indignant squawk.

Then he holds out his phone to Steve.

"What?" Steve chokes. He has no idea what's going on.

"Take it," Tony says.

"Why?"

"Because you don't trust me." Steve starts to protest (more out of reflexive politeness than honesty, really), and Tony holds up a hand. "You don't. You shouldn't. Thinking back, I can definitely hear what it must have sounded like to you. But I really, really need you to believe me, so I've got to do something to prove to you that it was not what it seemed, and that I do genuinely like you. And the only way to do that is to give you control and let you do something that I could not possibly have set up beforehand. So pick one."

"Pick one what?" Steve splutters.

"Contact. Pick one at random. I'll call whoever you want."

"I'm not going to do that, Tony."

"I dare you."

Steve glares at him for a second. Tony just looks back, all hopefulness and sincerity. Finally Steve sighs and snaps, "Fine. Fine. But on your head be it."

"That's the general idea," Tony says happily, and it'll be days before Steve picks up on the possible innuendo in that.

Steve's still skeptical that Tony's this desperate to go out with him, of course, but he's more skeptical that this isn't some kind of elaborate prank, so he does it. Scrolls up then down then up again and taps the screen without really looking.

Tony looks down at the contact and says, "Okay, fair warning, he might not say anything, and I might get my ass kicked for this, but for you, darlin', anything."

But Steve's going to see this through, now, so he just crosses his arms and clenches his jaw and keeps a glare honed on Tony's face while they listen to it ring and ring.

Just when Steve thinks it's going to go to voicemail a very gruff voice snaps, "What, Tony?"

Talking so fast he sounds like he knows he's going to be interrupted Tony says, "Look I know you're busy so just real quick one tiny thing okay if I were to say 'Steve' -"

"Tony Stark," and Steve used to think that when books said someone 'growled like a bear' it was a metaphor, but wow apparently not, "if I have to hear about how goddamn polite he is to everyone except the one douche in the cafeteria one more fucking time I will fucking end you."

The line goes dead.

Steve's shocked and Tony's laughing. He pushes his phone towards Steve again and says, "That totally didn't count. Logan's an asshole. Here, really, do one more."

So Steve does, going all the way to the end of his contacts and picking one of the last ones. Tony hits call as he looks to see who it is, and he simultaneously laughs and groans when he sees, putting a hand to his forehead. "This is either going to be really awesome really, really awful, and I don't know which is more likely."

Only one ring and a far-too-cheerful voice says, "Toooooony! Sexiest goatee alive! To what do I owe the masturbatory fantasy of you calling me?"

Steve's choking on laughter, and Tony just rubs his face and says, "Look, Wade, trust me when I say I really don't want to be doing this, but I must. What would you say if I said 'Steve'?"

Without missing a beat Wade yells, "THREESOME!"

Tony laughs and says, "Wade, do you even know who Steve is -"

"Of course I do, Jesus, I mean I know I have memory problems but seriously there's no way I could forget the guy even if I wanted to since you talk about him so goddamn much, and wow, Stark, when I tell you that you talk too much you know you have a problem. Not that I'd want to forget hot Stevie! Did I tell you I stalked you to lunch one day and saw him? Stark. Stark," Wade says, over Tony's spluttering indignation, "Stark. You must tap that. Make sweet, sweet love to that pint-sized spitfire. Do you know what I would give for a threesome with you two? A lot, let me tell you. I'd give my left arm - Fuck, man, I'd give my left nut, and it wouldn't even regenerate in this universe!"

Tony just says, "Thanks, proved my point, goodbye Wade," and Wade's still shouting about polyamory and he could love them both so well and Tony's moving his thumb to hang up when Wade yells, "Wait a sec at least tell me if I know Peter in this universe!" and the line goes dead.

Steve looks at Tony. Tony looks at Steve.

"Who's Peter?" Steve asks.

Tony shakes his head and looks down at his phone. "I have no idea what he was going on about. Peter's his fiancé, for Chrissake."

"Oh," Steve says.

"Yeah," Tony says.

They both just stand there for a moment.

Then Steve doubles over in laughter and Tony throws his head back to join, and they're probably getting weird looks but, oddly, Steve just doesn't care.

When they've calmed down, Tony looks at him, his smile going a bit uncertain about the edges, and says, "So. Verdict? Am I forgiven?"

"Well," Steve says.

"Or you can take more time to think about it," Tony hurries to say. "Or we can call more people. Just to, you know, make sure my mortification is utter and complete. Whatever you want."

"I was going to say," Steve says, "that I have plans tonight."

He doesn't, actually, but he needs to think, and also he knows this part of the script, too.

"Oh," Tony says, and wow, he really does like Steve. The droop Tony's shoulders have going on is impressive.

"BUT," Steve continues, "I am free tomorrow night."

"Really?" Tony asks, head snapping up to look at him.

Steve laughs. "Really really."

"That's - um. That's great. Okay. So I'll text you? Oh, no, bad idea, no, I'll just -"

"I'll unblock you," Steve promises. Only partially because it's logistically necessary, but mostly because in among all the shock it's finally getting to him that Tony really wasn't leading him on, Tony really does genuinely LIKE him, and in light of that Steve's treated him pretty badly. Unintentionally, but these last few days have probably been as awful for him as they were for Steve. "I'll do it right now. And I'll, um. I'll - I'll text you? Later. And we can do something."

"Yeah," Tony says. His smile is so wide it looks like it hurts. "Yeah. Sure. Any time, any place."

Steve unblocks Tony in front of him, then smiles up at him. The look Tony's directing at him right now - hopeful, happy, heartbreakingly sincere - takes Steve's breath away.

They lock eyes and for minutes or moments they don't look away. Then Steve comes out of it, realizes he must look like a dope, and looks away. "Well, um," he says, gesturing over his shoulder. "I should, yeah."

"Oh," says Tony. "Yeah, I should, too, I um. Might have run out on something kind of important. But! Okay. Worth it. So." He visibly stops himself from talking, takes a deep breath, and says, "I'll talk to you later?"

"Yes," Steve says. "I'll talk to you later."

"Okay," says Tony.

"Okay," says Steve.

A moment passes.

They smile at each other some more.

Neither of them moves.

Finally Steve huffs a laugh, rubbing a hand over his eyes. "We aren't even on the phone. We are not going to get caught up in a 'No you hang up' fight."

Tony laughs. "Fair enough. Okay. This is me, hanging up in real life. Good bye, Steve."

"Bye, Tony," Steve says softly.

They smile at each other one last time, then they both turn and walk in opposite directions.

That should be it, except three paces later Steve looks over his shoulder, and Tony looks over his shoulder, too, and they both duck their heads and Steve's flushing bright red and laughing at himself but it's okay, because he knows that a dozen paces behind him Tony's doing the same thing.

He rounds the corner and pulls out his phone.

From: Steve
This is me, asking you out tomorrow. Officially.

He doesn't even get his phone back in his pocket before there's a reply.

From: Tony
this is me, officially replying: anytime, anyplace

Steve smiles for a solid seven hours. He only stops that night because he falls asleep.

The next day after work they go out for coffee, because Steve figures it's best to keep it simple. They meet in the lobby and walk together, and the whole way Steve can't help but sneak glances up at Tony, like he's still not quite sure this is real. Most of the time he ends up catching Tony's eye because he's already looking at Steve, and then they both look away quickly but it's fun anyway.

Initially Steve had been planning on just going to Starbucks, but when he began turning towards the door Tony had taken one look at it, said, "Nope, no, no way, no how," snagged him by the hand and tugged him away. Steve's so startled by the contact he just goes with it, walking away and not tugging his hand out of Tony's grasp. After a moment he sees Tony glance down at their hands before hastily letting go, but it's nice while it lasts.

Tony leads them to another cafe a block further down the road that to Steve looks basically the same as Starbucks. He says as much, and arguing about coffee and cafes and local startups and hipsters lasts them through getting their drinks and a table.

Somehow that leads into what they do for a living, and Steve finds out that Tony and Bruce run a company together (they actually own two floors of their mutual work building). Apparently Tony's family is big in The Industry (though Steve's still not clear on what industry that is) and he broke away to start his own company. Steve doesn't ask for details, and doesn't ask anything about his family, and Tony doesn't volunteer any information.

He doesn't ask about Steve's family either, which is great, because Steve may not have been on many dates but he does know that tragic backstories and sob-story childhoods are really not first date material. Instead he sticks to talking about work (graphic artist and general admin in a company that rents a suite three floors above Tony's), and friends. That leads into him talking about Bucky for a while, and it's not till he's been talking for a while that he remembers: if he's on a date with a guy, no other guy in the world should exist. Shit.

"Sorry," he says, cutting himself off mid-word. "I didn't mean to dominate the conversation like that."

"No, no, no." Tony waves a hand. He's been leaning back in his chair, sipping his drink and smiling, for at least, what, five minutes? Maybe ten? Christ, he'd looked interested, but maybe he was just bored. He says, "No, it's good. I like hearing about things that matter to you so much. And it's good that you have someone like him. You know, who you've been friends with for so long."

"Do you have anyone like that?" Steve asks, desperate to ask a question of Tony, before he thinks it through.

"Yeah," he says. "I've known Rhodey since I was fourteen, actually. He's my oldest friend. We bunked together at college."

"That's great," Steve says. "Bucky and I always talked about getting a dorm together when we graduated, but it - didn't really work out that way."

Tony smiles. "No, I mean that's how Rhodey and I met. We were assigned a dorm together."

"Oh," says Steve. Then, "Wait, I thought you said you met when you were both fourteen? So high school?"

Tony's grin just keeps getting wider. "*I* was fourteen. Rhodey was eighteen. We were freshmen."

Steve knows what Tony's trying to say, but he's still too incredulous. "You mean you were a freshman in high school -?"

"Nope," Tony says, shit-eating grin Cheshire-wide now. "We were both freshmen. At MIT."

Steve gawps at him. "You went to MIT when you were fourteen?"

"Yep," Tony says proudly, popping the P. Steve decides he's earned it.

"That's - Tony, that's incredible," Steve says.

Tony shrugs and looks away, smile turning pleased and possibly a bit bashful. "I was bored a lot as a child."

Steve laughs. "I can imagine that," he says, and the smile Tony turns on him is beautiful and sincere.

They end up swapping Bro Stories (Tony's words): Steve tells him about all the fistfights Bucky fought at his side, and Tony tells him about all of Rhodey's (largely unsuccessful) attempts to keep him out of trouble at MIT. And his (much more successful) attempts to get Tony OUT of trouble once he was already in it.

It's dark by the time they leave. Tony says he's going to call a cab and it doesn't matter where from, so he might as well walk Steve home. Steve says he'd like to walk Tony instead, and Tony laughs and says it's too far to walk. Steve lets it go.

The night is warm and muggy, but not the sort of sticky that makes him feel gross just by standing outside. They walk through the darkness, streetlights yellow overhead and blocking the stars. Steve wants to take Tony's hand but doesn't. He also doesn't notice how quiet Tony is, because Steve is quiet, too. He's working himself up for what he's going to say when they get to his apartment.

Tony follows him up the cement steps and onto the porch. It's more of an alcove, brick walls on both sides and partial walls between the door and the street. Steve takes his keys out and fumbles them, trying not to think about Hitch.

Tony says, "Well, I had a good time -" just as Steve says, "Do you want to -?"

They both laugh, and Steve motions Tony to go first. Tony shakes his head, and Steve takes a deep breath, squares his shoulders, and says, "Would you, um. Would you like to - come up?"

He means to say 'come up for coffee,' but they just had coffee and Steve doesn't actually mean literal coffee anyway.

"Steve," Tony says, then stops. His eyes are lowered and he's biting his lip. Finally he looks back up and says, "Look, it's not that I don't want to -"

"It's okay," Steve interrupts. "It's fine. I get it. I'll, um. See you later. Good night, Tony."

"No, wait, just hold on for a second," Tony says, putting his hand on the doorknob so Steve can't open it. "Let me just - let me say something before you go, okay? Please?"

"Okay," Steve says. He can't seem to look anywhere other than the ground. He can't really breathe. He hadn't realized just exactly how much he liked Tony until this moment. He also hadn't realized how much he'd believed that Tony wanted him, too. 'Cause this, oh, quite aside from the sting of rejection, there's also the sting of crushed expectations.

It's just. . . It's just, Steve had really thought. . .

"Steve," Tony says, putting a hand on his shoulder. Steve looks up and finds Tony pensive and serious. "Look. I don't know why, but other people say that what I'm about to tell you is super important, and it seems to work for them. Also it's the opposite of my usual modus operandi and nothing ever works out for me, so. Maybe they're on to something, right? So. I'd like to - go slow. If that's. Okay. I mean in order to go slow that means you actually have to want to see me again, which, yeah, kind of making assumptions here, and you know what they say about that -"

Tony doesn't stop talking, and Steve realizes that he and Tony are both freaking out right now. Steve would kiss him, wants to so badly, but the height difference is enough that he'd need Tony to tip his head down a bit more, and Steve doesn't quite have the guts right now to pull him.

"Hey," Steve says, moving forward a bit and putting a hand on Tony's waist. Tony stops talking and looks down at him with wide, hopeful eyes. "That, um. That sounds really great. We should, ah, actually probably talk if we're going to do anything anyway, so - and I mean, I'm sorry for pressuring you and making you uncomfortable -"

"It's okay," Tony says, squeezing his shoulder. He huffs a laugh and says, "Sounds like we were both freaking out about nothing, huh? Okay, so let me just put this out there: I really like you, Steve. The more I get to know you the more I like you. I'd really, really like to see you again. And, yes, I would really like to sleep with you. But. The other stuff, too."

"Good," says Steve quietly. "That's good. Same."

"Okay," Tony whispers. His eyes are on Steve's lips.

Steve doesn't realize how far forward he's leaned until Tony pulls back minutely. He looks at Steve's eyes, then his lips, then his eyes again. He squeezes Steve's shoulder again then takes a deliberate step back, pulling himself and Steve out of each other's hands.

The key goes into the lock with minimal fumbling after that, and just before he closes the door Steve turns around and says, "I really like you, Tony. I can't wait to see you again."

Tony's face breaks into a grin. "I can't wait to see you again either. Maybe, um, with the kissing thing? Maybe next time, yeah?"

"Yes," Steve says before Tony's even done talking.

They both nod and chuckle and look at each other and look away.

Unsure what to do now, Steve just chuckles and says, "Okay. Okay. Good night, Tony."

"Good night, Steve," Tony says, and then he turns and walks down the steps into the dark. Steve stands there with the door half-open until, just before Tony's footsteps fade into the night, he hears someone whistling. He thinks it's Tony, and he also thinks it's Your Song.

Steve is dying to talk to Bucky about Tony. Honestly dying. And there's something that isn't the worst thing about Bucky being overseas, not by a long shot, but it's one of those little things that he didn't know was going to happen until Bucky was already gone, and it's this: he needs to plan out when and how to tell Bucky. He can't just wait till the next time he sees him. He can't just text him and tell him they're hanging out. He can't just go to Sam or Nat's and find Bucky already there. He can't just -

He just can't.

At first he wants to write an email, because this is going to be a looong story, but. He also wants to tell Bucky in person. Or as close to 'in person' as they can get, anyway. (He also doesn't save things to tell Bucky when (when) he gets home. Not ever. Because -) Again, though, because he has to think about things like this now, he knows he has to tell the story through to the end the first time. He can't stop halfway through and leave Bucky thinking Tony's a terrible person. So their next Skype call, after their general catching-up, Steve says, "I have a story to tell you, but it's really, really long, so if we don't have another half an hour at least I'm not going to even start it."

"Meh," says Bucky, waving a hand at him through the screen from the other side of the world, "tell me anyway. If we get interrupted I'll just see if I can guess the end before next week."

He smiles, and he looks good. Steve was worried, very worried, that being in the Army would take away that smile, but it hasn't yet. Everything in the frame is dun-colored except for his eyes and his lips: his clothes, his skin, his hat, the tent wall behind him, the dirt beneath his nails, the other soldiers walking and lounging in the background. Sometimes Steve wonders if anyone else over there notices it, how Bucky stands out with splotches of color against a monochrome backdrop, but then he remembers that Bucky stands out the same way in the greys of New York and knows that no one does.

"Nah," says Steve. "I've got to tell you the whole thing at once. Doesn't make for a good cliffhanger, this one."

Bucky leans forward and his eyes narrow at something below the camera, where Steve knows his own picture is showing on Bucky's screen. He never realized how much he relies on eye contact until he started regularly Skyping someone. "You get in a fight again, punk?"

Steve laughs. "No, Bucky, swear I haven't. It's a good story, honest. I promise."

Bucky doesn't move for a moment and Steve thinks the connection froze, but then Bucky nods a bit and relaxes back in his chair. He smirks. "Something good happen, Stevie?"

"Yeah," Steve laughs, "something good."

Two days before their next call Steve gets an unusually long email from Bucky. It contains every conceivable detail of every single little thing that's happened to him, near him, or within his sphere of experience in the last month. At the end of it Bucky writes, "There! Now I have LITERALLY NOTHING left to talk about next time. It's all you."

Steve rereads the email right before they Skype, so he's still laughing when Bucky calls. Bucky's face smooths into the most content smile Steve's seen on him ages, and he slumps like all his strings have been cut. "Shit, Steve, you look happy."

"I am," Steve says. He thinks about bumping into Tony on their way into work yesterday, how Tony'd flushed to the roots of his hair when Steve stuttered hello, and feels his smile grow even wider. "I really, really am."

"It got anything to do with this amazingly long story you're going to tell me?"

"Maaaaybe," Steve says, halfway just to be a shit and halfway because he can tell Bucky anything but he's not sure how to verbalize the part of his happiness that's all down to Bucky himself.

"So!" Steve says without further ado. "So the other night I was out with Nat and Sam and I go up to order drinks, and this idiot kept like nudging into me at the bar..."

Bucky's reactions are more than Steve could have wished for. He glares at Steve's self-deprecation, whistles and awards points for Tony's flirting, and groans when Steve says he thought he and Tony were heading to the bathroom at the same time. Steve would think Bucky's hamming it up, except he can read Bucky like a large-print book he's already got memorized, so he can tell it's all genuine. Steve gets to the part where he overheard Tony and his friends, and it doesn't hurt nearly so much now. He thought he'd end up glossing over that part, but the more he talks the more he understands what he actually heard, and he ends up repeating the whole thing word-for-word just for his own benefit.

Bucky, though, Bucky looks fit to murder someone. Steve's not even done with what he heard when Bucky holds up his hand and says, "I'm gonna have to stop you there, Steve. Gotta tell my CO I'm deserting so I can go choke a couple'a bitches back in the States. I'll see you in a day or two."

Steve's caught between laughter and horror, because Bucky's caught between joking and dead serious. "Wait, wait, wait!" Steve says. "Lemme finish the story! See, this is why I said it didn't make a good cliffhanger."

Bucky glares - and it's strange, knowing he's on the receiving end of a glare when Bucky's eyes are downcast - then huffs and leans back, but Steve can tell his fist is clenched. "Fine. But get to the good thing, Steve, or I really will just show up on your doorstep."

Steve laughs and says, "From my home to a court-martial, just how I've always dreamed," and launches into the next part, all to cover the fact that he desperately wishes Bucky would just show up.

Bucky's reactions remain pure gold through the rest of the story, murderous rage turning into almost painful relief (same as it had for Steve when it was happening to him). By the end of it Bucky's smiling so wide it doesn't even look real.

"You're gonna see him again, right?" Bucky says.

"Well," Steve starts.

"Steven Grant Rogers," Bucky says, smiling too wide to be stern. "I know you're just pulling my leg, because I don't think I've ever seen you this besotted before. You do realize that now if you don't go out with him again the bitch I'll be deserting to come choke is YOU, right, you punk?"

Steve's laughing, too happy with the thought of Tony and the reality of Bucky to do anything else. "I'm joking, Buck, jeez. Of course I'm going to see him again. He's," and Steve's laughter quiets, and he finds himself toying with a pencil left on his desk to avoid Bucky's non-existent eye contact. "He's real swell, Buck. I like him a lot. And he really seems to like me."

"That's good, Stevie. That's real good," Bucky says quietly.

Steve can tell he means it.

Their second date they go back to the same cafe, then for a walk through the city. Tony's every bit as charming and engaging as he was before, but there's something just a little different about him this time. Steve thinks he's starting to relax a little more; that he's not trying so hard. He starts talking about a few of the engineering projects he has going on, and Steve doesn't understand a good forty percent of it, but Tony's so animated, his shirtsleeves rolled up and his hands waving energetically, occasionally running through his hair and making it stand up wildly, and Steve likes this even better than the studious flirting.

They end up sitting on a bench in the park watching people go by, like every rom-com ever set in New York. Steve's surprisingly okay with it. When Tony finishes his coffee Steve snatches it and goes to throw it away before Tony can react. He's walking back to their bench when he spots something on the ground and gets an idea.

Quickly, he kneels down to pick it up, then carries it in his cupped palms, making sure Tony can't see what it is. Tony's looking at him curiously and Steve comes to a stop right in front of his knees.

"Put out your hands and close your eyes," Steve says with a shit-eating grin.

Tony's eyebrows just about disappear under his hair. "Seriously?"

"Seriously. I wanna try something. Come on."

"All right, but it better not be anything gross or slimy. Or anything that stains," Tony says, but he obediently closes his eyes and holds out his cupped palms.

"Can't promise it won't be a bit gross," Steve says honestly, and laughs at the look of disgust on Tony's face. "I promise it's not slimy and that it won't stain, though. Tip your head back."

"Why?" Tony asks.

"Because I don't want you peeking," Steve says. Tony sighs, but obediently tips his chin up a bit more. Steve takes a deep breath - then another, because he's suddenly far more nervous than he was when he got this idea. A third deep breath, and he goes for it.

He drops what he's holding into Tony's upheld hands, and more importantly - Steve leans down and presses a tiny kiss to Tony's lips.

It's so quick Steve's pulling back before Tony can even gasp. His eyes snap open and he's looking at Steve slack-jawed. There's actual, honest-to-Jesus awe on his face, and Steve's struck by the realization that Tony still somehow thinks Steve is out of his league.

"Was that, um," Steve says.

"Wonderful, but over quickly," Tony says, and then he's tugging at Steve's waist and tipping his head and his eyes are sliding closed like he's going under.

Steve huffs a nervous laugh and puts a hand on Tony's shoulder for balance, and then he presses their lips together again. Tony makes a little noise in his throat and Steve gasps, his other hand coming up to Tony's hair. Tony's lips move, tugging on his own gently, and there's a taste of coffee and sunshine and Tony and Steve's lost.

They kiss and kiss, and then they kiss some more, until Steve just can't take it anymore. He pulls away abruptly and Tony's grip tightens on his waist. "Steve?"

Steve smiles and shakes his head, leaning and twisting a bit. "Sorry. Just. Awkward angle."

Tony smiles at him - and this one, of all the myriad smiles Steve's seen on Tony's face so far, this one is by far his favorite.

"C'mon, then," Tony says, taking his hand and tugging him down. He doesn't kiss Steve again, but he does put an arm around his shoulder and tug him close. "Is this okay?"

"Yeah," Steve says, leaning into him and laying his head on Tony's shoulder. "Really okay."

"Good," Tony chuckles, and his breath ruffles the hair at Steve's temple.

Tony brings his free hand around in front of them and opens it, and somehow through all that he managed to keep a hold of what Steve had put in his hands.

There's a moment of silence.

"Steve," Tony says. "Why did you give me a rock?"

"It's not a rock," Steve says seriously. Tony looks at him incredulously, and with all the solemnity he can muster Steve says, "That, Mister Stark, is what we down in Brooklyn call a distraction."

They hold eyes for a moment, then they're both laughing so hard they have to clutch at each other to stay on the bench. Or maybe they clutch at each other just because they can. Whichever.

It's their fourth date, and they've seen each other twice more at unplanned points on their way into work. Tony's walked him home after every date, and he hasn't asked Tony up again. The talking about when they want to get down to the hanky-pank hasn't happened yet, and Steve doesn't want to spring it on him again. Wants to talk about it first.

Which he definitely can't do right now, because right now Steve and Tony are kissing each other to within an inch of their lives.

They're outside Steve's apartment, tucked away in a dark corner of the little brick alcove, safe from prying eyes and pouring rain. Steve is pressed against the wall with his arms around Tony's neck and his hands roaming over his solid shoulders and tangling in his wild, dripping hair. And Tony - Tony's pressed all down his front, the solid warmth of him so different from the scratchy cold hardness of the brick digging into his shoulders. Tony's got his arms around Steve's waist, and seems to be doing everything he can think of to get just little bit closer.

Tony's bent around him, one of his legs between both of Steve's and he's HARD, he's clearly trying to not actually dry-hump Steve on the pavement but he's also so clearly hard, and they kiss and kiss and kiss and kiss and without realizing it's going to happen until it does Steve comes.

Tony doesn't act like he realizes what just happened - which is good, because Steve's so dizzy with endorphins he's half a second from bursting into tears in mortification - he just tugs away from Steve's lips so Steve can breathe easier, and presses kisses against his cheeks and neck and jaw and eyes and anything he can reach while his arms hold Steve to him tight, tight.

"You're amazing," Tony breathes, and then he pulls back far enough to look down at him with wide-blown, dazed eyes, one hand tilting his face up towards his own with a thumb on the corner of his lips, and he just keeps saying over and over again, "you're amazing, you're so fantastic, you're, you're just so, and I -"

Steve stares at him, at the depth of emotion pooling in Tony's wild, dark eyes, and forgets everything about himself long enough to pull Tony down to keep kissing him.

A little while later - or maybe hours later, or maybe only seconds, who even knows - Tony stops kissing him, takes a deep breath, and pulls away a bit.

"You have, um," Tony says, apparently unable to stop himself from running his lips over Steve's forehead, even as he tries to actually say something. "You have your phone call."

"Oh. Right," Steve says, because he managed to forget for like a whole two hours that he's got a Skype call with Bucky tonight.

With great reluctance they slowly peel themselves apart. It's like waking up and realizing he's slipped in between the couch cushions: he was so warm and comfortable and Tony was so close that Steve hadn't realized how entwined they were. He so badly wants to just stay right where he is that even his muscles protest moving, like he's sore from sleeping in a strange position without the preceding discomfort.

It's a whole one step from where they're standing to the actual door into the building, but Tony takes his hand and walks him over anyway. Steve hooks an arm around Tony's neck and pulls him down and kisses his cheek, whispering, "That's it. Don't let me kiss you again, or I just won't stop."

Tony's holding very still, his hand like a vice around Steve's. He takes a deep, shuddering breath and says, "Yeah. Yeah. Same," through clenched teeth, and Steve suddenly remembers through his self-centered humiliation-slash-afterglow that Tony's still hard.

"I can -" Steve starts, but Tony shakes his head.

"Nope. Nope. It's good. Please don't offer. I want to - I want both of us one hundred percent on the same page when that happens, and right now is not. Not the time. So. Yeah. I'll, um. I'll see you later, okay?"

Steve looks at him, searching his face. Tony's eyes are clenched shut, which is a good thing, because Steve's sure that one look at his face right now would give everything away.

"Okay," says Steve. He squeezes Tony's hand one last time and steps back. Then, before he can think better of it (or chicken out), Steve continues quietly, "Just think of me later, okay?"

"Jesus Christ," Tony hisses, leaning against the wall. He shakes his head and straightens up and Steve opens his mouth to start apologizing because clearly that was the opposite of the right thing to say but Tony smirks at him and says, "You are a menace, Steven. A menace."

He leans down and kisses Steve's cheek, gives him a pointed look as he puts his hands in his pockets and pushes his jacket down, then walks away into the rain. Steve just watches him go.

He's barely got time to clean up and throw on some sweat pants before his computer chimes with an incoming Skype call. He snags an afghan off his bed (the cream-colored one Bucky got him from Barnes & Nobel for Christmas three years ago, because that is their store) and answers.

Bucky laughs when the call connects. "What the hell are you doing, Stevie?"

"James Buchanan Barnes," Steve says with as much dignity as he can muster while he's wrestling with the stupid blanket to get himself wrapped up and comfortably settled on the computer chair, "do not mock my blanket-burrito skills. I am cold and wet and I do not need your salt right now."

"Why're you wet?" Bucky asks. Still laughing, the bastard. He knows better by now than to ask why Steve's cold, though.

At last, Steve settles into his chair and mock-glares. It's supposed to be a mock-glare, anyway. But judging by the slight shift of Bucky's head, it may come off a bit more sincere than he means it. "Because it is pouring rain outside, that's why."

Bucky laughs at him, the warm dry bastard, and asks about Tony. And Steve is still so out of sorts with his entire life right now that - he doesn't SAY anything, of course he doesn't, because for uncountable reasons he doesn't want Bucky to know - but all too soon Bucky figures out that something's up. After that it's only a matter of time, no matter how hard Steve fights it. Soon enough Bucky (halfway through getting Steve to talk, mostly through telepathy) gets Steve to tell him part of what happened and guesses the rest.

If Steve thought Bucky was mad when Bucky thought Tony'd toyed with Steve to win a bet, it's got nothing on how angry he is now.

"Look, Buck," Steve starts.

"Hold on," Bucky snaps. He stands up and a moment later the image blurs, and Steve watches with dizzying perspective as Bucky takes the laptop out into the baking sun so he can lose his mind at Steve in peace.

Because, yes, okay, there might be some kind of relevant information that Steve didn't actually tell Tony -

"Are you telling me," Bucky says through his teeth, the camera suddenly tilting to show his face against a startlingly blue sky, "That fucker took your virginity and fucking just left you fucking standing there?"

Yep, that'd be the possibly relevant information Steve neglected to share with Tony.

"Bucky, it's not -"

"I'm gonna fight him."

Steve laughs, then stops when he realizes Bucky isn't joking.

"The minute I get back, Steve, I am going to track this guy down and I am going to pound him into the ground -"

"He knew I had a Skype call with you!" Steve says.

He hates this. He hates it. How could Bucky leave him and go so far away? How could Bucky not be here when Steve needs him; how could Bucky be so far away that it's hard to explain why Steve needs him in the first place?

How could Bucky take himself to the other side of the world where Steve can't just smack him upside the head and tell him to stop being an idiot? How could Bucky leave the comfort of their apartments, where Steve can just push Bucky into a chair and pile blankets and pillows on him until he admits defeat, curling up like a grumbling cat and calming in all the warmth? How could Steve have let this happen to them?

"That is the dumbest fucking excuse I've ever heard!" Bucky shouts.

"No, look, he knows how important this is to me, and he reminded me and said he should probably go, and I didn't ask him to stay."

They both stop, taking deep breaths like they've suddenly stopped running. Steve's chest is heaving and he can feel his face scrunching up and he doesn't know why.

"I didn't ask him to stay, Buck. Didn't even ask him inside," Steve says, not realizing that's what he did until he says it aloud. "I'm not sure he even realized I had - it doesn't matter. I didn't say anything. And it's not like I, you know. It's not like I, I need him to be here or something. He's a busy man and I'm not a teenager."

Bucky's staring intently. And fuck Skype, fuck it, because Bucky's looking at Steve's face on his screen so his eyes look like they're closed and Steve can't see him.

"You didn't tell him that either, did you," Bucky says, calm and matter-of-fact. "He has no idea you'd never slept with anyone before."

Steve cringes. "We were going to talk about - about stuff before we did anything. It just, we, um. It - we didn't really mean to, so. We hadn't talked yet. But it's not like that counted anyway -"

"You didn't think you could ask him to stay, huh."

Steve pastes on his best Innocent Angel Wide Eyes. "What?"

Bucky shakes his head, but he's not about to jump on a plane and commit murder anymore, so it's an improvement. "Steven Grant Rogers you call him right this second and tell him to come back."

Steve doesn't want to. He runs through every excuse he can muster, from I don't know what he's doing right now, he could be busy, his phone might not even be on, and finally Bucky says, "Steve, if he's not the type who'd come back for you, you shouldn't let him come back at all."

Steve sighs. "I know. Like on an intellectual level, I know that. But I really want to keep dating him."

Rather than reassure him that Tony will definitely come back (which Steve could easily drag out into another argument and use up the remainder of their time), instead Bucky says, "Look, call him now, okay? That way if he doesn't come back then at least I can keep talking to you for a while."

"Fine. FINE. But on your head be it," Steve says, utterly defeated.

To: Tony
hey it's not a big deal but could you maybe swing back again for a minute?

"There," Steve says, holding his phone out so maybe the camera can pick up the text. "I hope you're happy."

"Pretty much," Bucky says, then asks Steve about baseball in the least-subtle conversation changer in history.

Twenty minutes later there's a knock on the door. Filled with apprehension, Steve holds a finger up to Bucky, then goes to answer it. He opens the door, and there's Tony.

His face splits into a grin as soon as his eyes land on Steve. "Hey, man," he says. For one moment neither of them move, and then Tony's resolve seems to break and he swoops forward, tugging Steve into his arms and tipping his face up to put a gentle kiss on his lips.

He starts to pull back but Steve -

Steve hadn't understood. It was like not realizing he was thirsty until he took a drink of water. Nothing else in the world exists except Tony.

Steve cups the back of his head and pulls him down to kiss him slower, deeper.

It tapers off after a moment and they just breathe. Then Tony huffs a laugh against his lips and says, "Now that's what I call a hello."

Steve chuckles and pulls back. Tony's smiling, but his eyes are worried.

"Hey," he says quietly, gently cupping Steve's cheek and running his thumb over his cheekbone, "are you okay?"

Steve sighs and tips forward, resting his forehead against Tony's sternum. "Yeah," he says, muffled, "I just - oh fuck!"

Tony yelps as Steve springs away from him. "Sorry!" Steve shouts towards his computer. His computer, which is still Skyping Bucky. His computer, which is unintentionally aimed right at the door. His computer where Bucky, back inside now and sprawling on his bunk, has been watching this whole thing with a shit-eating grin.

"What?" Tony says. Bucky starts laughing uproariously, and Tony tenses.

"This is not how I wanted this to happen," Steve says, rubbing a hand over his face. Then he decides to just buck up and take it, so he snags Tony's hand and drags him over to his desk.

"Tony, this is Bucky," says Steve, gesturing at the screen. Bucky waves through gales of laughter. "And Buck, this is Tony."

"I'd sure hope so!" Bucky shouts.

"Oh, fuck off," Steve mutters.

"You got him to swear!" Tony says to Bucky. "Do you know how long I've been trying to do that?"

"Not as long as I have. Trust me, buddy."

Now Tony's laughing, too. "No argument here."

"I'll, um, I'll get you a chair," Steve says awkwardly, completely unsure what to do with himself. Tony doesn't object to Steve leaving the room.

Steve figures out why a second later. He ducks into his room, remembers the folding chair is actually under the couch, and turns around to walk back out just in time to hear Bucky break the silence.

Bucky say seriously, "If you hurt him I'll kill you."

"Good," says Tony. "If you die on him I'll resurrect you and kill you myself."

"Fair," says Bucky. "Glad we understand each other."

"Same."

Steve freezes. Tony and Bucky don't say anything else. After a minute Tony calls, "Steve? Do we really need another chair?"

"Um, what?" Steve asks, stepping out of his room. He hopes they can't tell he heard that.

"I was just saying you could probably let Tony have the chair," Bucky says solemnly, "since you can sit in his lap."

Steve can feel himself flush. Damnit. "Shut up, Buck."

"Yep, yep, I see what you're saying, Barnes," Tony nods, plopping down in the chair and putting his hands on his knees. "That's definitely a sound proposition. Rogers? Thoughts?"

"Oh, screw you both," Steve mutters. He's standing next to Tony now and he won't sit down, but he's close enough for the mic to pick him up so Bucky can hear.

"Kinky," Bucky and Tony say at the same time, then burst into startled laughter.

"Cyber high-five!" Tony shouts, holding up his hand.

"Back atcha, but I ain't actually doing it. You look like an idiot," Bucky says.

They laugh and talk and it's - it's - Well. Bucky has to go shortly after that, which is a shame, because actually it's -

-It's wonderful. Talking to them both at the same time. Why is it that all the best parts of Steve's life are things that just can't last?

It's Friday and not that late, barely after dinner, really, so Tony hangs out for a while. They're curled up on the couch, and Steve doesn't know how to bring it up. He's toying with the edge of Tony's sleeve to avoid his eye, and for a while Tony just goes with it.

Then Tony takes a deep breath, holds it, lets it out, and says, "Steve. Is this about what happened earlier?"

"I, um," Steve says.

"It's okay to be angry at me," Tony says softly, and Steve's head snaps back to stare at him.

"What?"

Tony's not looking at him, either. "It's okay to be angry at me. I get it. I'm sorry. Did I mention that before? I am. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have -"

"Stop, oh my God, just stop," Steve says, putting his hand over Tony's mouth. Tony doesn't duck away but he does look at him for the first time since they sat down, and seeing the liquid concern in Tony's dark eyes makes everything in Steve go soft and his breath come easier. "Please don't apologize for that."

Tony sighs and studies Steve, then nods. Steve removes his hand.

"Look, it - you don't have to tell me," Tony says, and now both his hands are on Steve - one still around his back holding him to Tony's side, the other rubbing up and down his arm. "There is no pressure here for you to do or say anything you don't want, okay? This is a zero-pressure zone. But I couldn't help but notice - I mean, do you mind if I ask, did you really -"

His face flaming hot and with a sudden gall Steve doesn't know the origins of, Steve holds Tony's eye and says, "Did I ride your leg like a teenager while you kissed me into coming? Yep. That is a thing that happened."

Tony's mouth drops open and his eyes are blown wide. Steve can see his pulse thudding in his throat, and wonders how hard his heart must be thundering for the sudden change to be so visible.

At first Steve's smug, but after a little while Tony hasn't moved and Steve's starting to think maybe smugness isn't what he should be feeling right now. The embarrassment comes crashing back over him and he could cut out his own tongue for saying something so pathetic. "Tony? Um, say something -"

"You're perfect," Tony says. Steve's mouth clicks shut. Tony blinks and shakes himself and says, "Sorry. Too much? Sorry. I think I said that before right? I mean to. Because you are. Perfect, I mean. Not, not because I have like a kink or something, don't think that I like PLANNED earlier, because I didn't, I swear -"

"Tony, Tony," Steve says, catching his flailing hand and holding it to his chest. "I know. It's okay, all right? I know."

"Okay," Tony says. He takes a shaky breath, then looks away, laughing. It doesn't sound happy. "Sorry. I'm freaking out here."

"I noticed," Steve says. "But hey, what you said earlier, about this being a no-pressure zone? Goes both ways. I'm not going to - to think badly of you, Tony."

"You're perfect," Tony says again, then kisses him. It stops the building hysteria of the situation, both of them sucking in a breath against each other's lips, and Tony breathes out into him, "Really fucking perfect."

They kiss for a bit, before Steve ruefully pulls back. "We should probably talk."

"I know," Tony says. He pecks Steve's lips again, then settles back against the couch, tugging on Steve's waist so he can settle more comfortably against Tony. "Let's start out with why you called me to come back, okay?"

Steve laughs. "That was all Bucky."

"You told Bucky?" Tony asks. He doesn't sound pissed off, though, just curious.

"I didn't mean to!" Steve laughs. "We've known each other since before we can remember, Tony, it wasn't that hard for him to figure out that I'd finally slept with someone. I didn't even SAY anything, he just -"

"Hold up," says Tony.

He's gone very still, and he's looking at Steve like he's about to explode. But he doesn't say anything after that, so Steve gives him a second, then says, "Were you gonna follow that up with something?"

Tony's still staring at him. "You said 'when you'd finally slept with someone.' That is exactly what you said. Did you mean - did you mean -"

Steve automatically ducks his head. It's a mistake.

"Oh my god," Tony gasps.

"It's not that big a deal!" Steve says desperately.

"Steve."

"No," Steve says, pushing himself away from Tony, though he can't bring himself to actually get up. "We are not doing this. Virginity is a societal construct given circular and specious value based on whether or not women bartered as breeding chattel would produce sons who were unquestionably her husband's -"

"Steve," Tony says again. Just that. He doesn't agree, he doesn't protest, he just derails the entire argument with a single word and the gentle touch of his fingertips to Steve's cheek.

Steve looks at him. He looks earnest, but not - Steve doesn't know. Whatever he was worried about, it's not really how Tony looks.

"I'm not made of glass," Steve says quietly. "I can take care of myself. I don't need anyone to put me on a shelf with the excuse of my fragility and their own heroism and desire to take care of me. I don't need that, Tony."

Tony shakes his head. "That's not what this is. I can see why you'd think that, but it's not. This is - I just. I guess I would have wanted it to be - more special."

Steve shakes his head with a sharp breath. "That's exactly what I mean. You do not have to take it upon yourself to make things special for me -"

"Why not?"

"Because!" Steve says, throwing his hands up. "I just told you! I'm not a child and I'm not made of glass! Just because I'm short and I've got asthma -"

"And the heart of a lion," Tony says. He's not rising to the bait. "I know. How can you not see - That is exactly why I'd want to make it special in the first place, Steve."

"Oh, what the heck are you talking about?"

Tony shrugs, and reaches out hesitantly. When Steve doesn't jerk away he puts a hand on Steve's shoulder, moving his thumb gently against Steve's collarbone. "I'd want to because you're right; you're not made of glass. You're made of steel and sunshine, Steve. You're strong and stubborn and scary-smart and there's just something about you that clicks with something about me. You're completely incredible, and you're gorgeous, and for some reason you let me look at you and hold your hand and kiss you in the fucking rain. Me, Steven! How can you think I'd only want to take care of you out of some smug superiority complex? I want everything to be perfect for you because how could I not?"

"Tony," Steve breathes.

"And don't," Tony says right over him, shaking his head, something ugly coming into his expression. "Don't let me stay just because sometimes in among all the babble I can talk pretty. Don't think you have any kind of obligation to me just because I think you have a spectacular ass, okay? You don't owe me anything, Steve, and I couldn't bear it if -"

He only stops talking because Steve kisses him.

When Steve pulls back to gauge Tony's expression, Tony keeps staring at him. Then he lets out a shaky breath and says, "Okay. Yeah. Too much for a fifth date, and I get that, but okay. Message received."

"I don't want you to leave," Steve says. "I'm not good with words like you, so I can't say things like what you just did. I wish I could, because I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. But I want you to stay."

Tony says, "But you see me. That right there is something like a miracle."

"Sure, Tony," Steve says. Not exactly in agreement; more because he and Tony are both leaning in again and his mouth is mostly running on autopilot.

A while later they're drifting, pressed close and twined around each other, and Steve's trying to keep himself awake. He doesn't know what happens when they start falling asleep - does Tony leave? Does Steve ask him to stay? If he does, is it to sleep together literally or figuratively? Should he assume Tony'd share his bed, or should he offer the couch? - and no matter which way Steve swings it, it's a minefield.

So he's decided that rather than deal with any of it, he is simply not going to sleep.

In accordance with this plan Steve says, "Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?"

Tony cards his fingers through Steve's hair, sucks in a breath, holds it, lets it out. Steve's preparing for him to say something awful, and he's kind of right, because what Tony says is, "Why didn't you ask me to stay? I would have stayed. Steve, please tell me you didn't think you couldn't ask me to stay."

"No, no, that's not it at all," Steve says. "It's just - I mean, I wanted you to stay. I did. But - Bucky doesn't get much time on Skype, you know? And tonight he had a huge chunk of time, so we've been planning this for ages."

Tony says, "Just out of idle curiosity, why did you tell him?"

"I only halfway told him," Steve says. "It's hard to explain. I mean, I only told him a little bit, and the rest he figured out on his own. But it was - I think I felt - guilty? Maybe?"

"Wait a sec," Tony says. His shoulder nudges at Steve's head until he tilts his face back so they can see each other. Tony - does not look happy right now. "Are you and Bucky a thing?"

"No!" Steve says immediately, not letting that thought get any further in Tony's head. "Oh Jesus no. No, no, nothing like that."

"Okay, all right," Tony says. "But then why? Why do you feel guilty?"

"It's more just," Steve sighs and waves a hand. "I don't know. I just, I tell him everything. And all the big things in our lives - well. Okay. All the big things in my life now, but still. Um. What I mean is, all the biggest things in our lives, we've always done them together, you know?"

"Okay. So you wanted to lose your virginity to him?" Tony doesn't sound put out in the least, nor gleeful; simply honestly curious.

"Of course not!" Steve splutters, choking on air, sitting up and waving his arms around, unable to physically or verbally convey just how much NO he means. "I would never - He's my best friend - God, Tony, I don't - And you're not some, some, some consolation-prize second-best - I'd never think of Bucky like that -"

"Steve, Steve, Steve!" Tony's got him by the shoulders. "Look at me, look at me, look at me."

Steve finally does, heaving for breath, and Tony says, with every sign of complete sincerity, "I am not angry at you. I'm not accusing you of anything. I am not leaving. Do I look like I'm about to flip a shit or walk out?"

Steve studies him for a second, and yeah. Tony doesn't look like he's about to do anything like that. He just looks so calm, so - relaxed, and finally Steve says, "No. No, I guess you don't."

"Okay," says Tony. He sighs, and his hands loosen on Steve's shoulders, his thumb distractedly rubbing the side of his neck. "Look, I'm - not the best person out there, okay? And I haven't exactly treated everyone well, you know?"

"Or been treated well in turn," Steve says quietly. Tony's never said anything outright, but Steve's not stupid.

And Tony smiles at him, but it looks weary. "Or been treated well in turn, sure. But the thing is, I have - Steve, I have done a lot, a lot of things in my life. And I know a ton of people who've done even more things than I've ever dreamed of."

"What's your point?" Steve asks, because he's pretty sure Tony has one, and he's pretty sure it's NOT calling attention to the gaping chasm between their relative experience levels.

Tony shrugs. "I like you. I like you a lot. I want to date you and have sex with you and the whole thing. I have big, gooey romantic feelings for you. And those feelings? Do not affect and are not affected by anything you might or might not feel for someone else, ya get me?"

"Not really," Steve says, even though he does, kind of.

"So, what, then?" Tony says conversationally, like he's not really going to explain what he just said. He settles back comfortably and tugs Steve close, though Steve stays sitting up enough for them to look at each other. "You want to do it where he could like maybe hear us or something? Because I gotta say, I am not in favor of voyeurism normally, like at all, but that's really only in public or with strangers. For friends and mega-friends I could be totally down, as long as everyone involved knew what they were getting into -"

And Steve finally gets enough breath to choke, and Tony pats him on the back and apologizes, and Steve thumps his own chest and waves him off, but then Tony just keeps going. "We could let him watch instead, y'know? That'd be hot. Oooohhh, or we could -"

Words remain beyond Steve's abilities, and Tony remains gleefully talkative about all the shenanigans the three of them could get up to. He's joking but not, doing it to make Steve blush but sincere, and Steve doesn't know how to make him stop without protesting too much. Finally, finally, finally, much later, they're stretched out on the couch and Steve tugs the afghan off the back and they fall asleep.

The first snowfall of winter Tony pulls Steve into his arms, and they dance.

They're in Steve's apartment - it's their fifth date, and they decided to make dinner together - and the radio's playing. The food's eaten, the dishes washed, and they're trying to decide what movie to watch when Just My Type starts playing.

All in one breath Tony says, "OhmyGodILOVEthisSONG!"

He jumps to his feet, tugging on Steve's hand. "C'mon, let's dance!"

Tony's insane and Steve can't stop laughing. He's giddy. He knows it's not the wine.

"No, Tony, come on," Steve says.

"No, no, seriously, come on!" Tony says. "Steve! This is a very short song! We gotta get while the getting's good!"

"That makes no sense," Steve says, leaning back in his chair and trying to pull his hand free from Tony's grasp. "Besides, I can't dance."

"Even better!" Tony says. "This is a great song to learn to. I'll teach you."

No one has EVER been able to get Steve to dance before, but - if ever he were going to dance with someone it'd be Tony. Well, if ever he were going to let someone teach him to dance, it'd be either Tony or Bucky, so.

So Steve gives in and lets Tony drag him into the biggest clear space in the apartment (where the kitchen fades into the living room, in the few feet of space between the kitchen table and the coffee table) and Tony realizes Steve wasn't exaggerating in about two seconds flat. Soon, though, they're laughing, and Tony says he's going to start by teaching Steve something slow since it'll be easiest.

Steve starts to pull away, citing the fact that this song is anything but slow, and then a new song starts playing.

"It's fate!" Tony cries. "Babe, this is one of the greatest love songs ever recorded. We have to dance. It's the law. Look, just move your feet like this, don't even pick them up off the floor, okay? And let me turn you. And away we go!"

The song, Steve recognizes after a moment, is Unchained Melody, and Tony's warm and solid in his arms, his shoulder firm beneath Steve's hand and his own hand warm around Steve's, and it's perfect. Steve can't stop smiling. Tony gazes down at him, clearly giddy himself, and starts singing along with the song in a hideous falsetto. Steve groans and buries his face in Tony's chest, but after a minute they're back to gazing at each other and smiling and Tony's still singing. He's actually got a good voice. Steve's knees might give out from under him but for the fact that Tony's got an arm about his waist.

Tony sings the last bit of the song with his head thrown back and his eyes closed, and Steve holds him more tightly. There's a smile on Tony's lips when he opens his eyes. It takes Steve a moment to realize that Tony's frozen and not looking at him anymore. He's looking at something behind him, with this look on his face that Steve can't parse, and before he can even turn around he hears -

"Stevie?" Bucky says.

Steve whirls. He's still holding Tony's hand, and Bucky's there, right there, standing in the open doorway with a rucksack over his shoulder, looking at Steve all tentative and hopeful, and yes, yes, this is it, this is everything Steve ever wanted in one room.

"Bucky!" Steve flings himself across the room. Bucky laughs and drops his rucksack and catches him and the momentum sends them spinning, Steve's feet swinging off the floor.

"Bucky, Bucky, Bucky!" Steve's hollering, pounding him on the back, and Bucky's laughing hysterically with his arms like titanium bands around Steve's back and his face buried in Steve's neck. The laughter hitches in Bucky's throat and that's when it hits him that Bucky is alive, here and solid and warm around him and alive; real in a way he isn't over the computer, and then Steve's got his hands fisted in Bucky's shirt and hair and he's trying not to start crying too.

The same way Steve used to automatically turn to Bucky to point out funny or interesting things (it had taken him so long to break the habit of turning to someone who wasn't there, but he gets to start doing that again now, doesn't he) it's automatic now for Steve to reach for Tony when he starts getting overwhelmed. He doesn't realize he's done it until a beat passes and what he expects doesn't happen, leaving him hugging Bucky but with his hand held out behind himself like a moron and feeling like he miscounted the stairs in the dark.

Laughing without realizing it Steve pulls back far enough to turn towards Tony, and sees him standing there, staring at them, looking - something. Nothing Steve understands.

"Tony?" Steve says.

That seems to knock Tony out of it. He shakes his head and smiles a little, ruefully, stepping forward and holding out his hand. "Hey, Bucky," he says.

Bucky looks oddly flustered, same as Tony. "Tony," he says, shaking Tony's hand. "Glad to see you."

"Um," says Steve. "I know you guys have met, but what?"

"Oh," Tony says casually, "we email." Which strikes terror into Steve's heart.

"Well," Bucky says, stepping away from Steve and leaving him feeling cold, looking around at the remains of dinner and the open bottle of wine on the table by the couch. "Guess I should leave you guys to it. I'll be -"

"What, no," Tony says before Steve can, which is a relief until he continues, "*I* should leave YOU guys to it, so I'll see you tomorrow -"

"No, no, I clearly interrupted," Bucky starts, but Tony cuts him off with, "But you just got back! You guys should -"

"Now wait just a minute," Steve says, finally giving up on wrapping his head around the entire situation and focusing on the immediate future. "No one is going anywhere."

"But -" Tony and Bucky both start at the same time.

"Nope," Steve says firmly. "I refuse to let either of you leave - I will nail the door shut if I have to. There's more than enough left from dinner and I'm sure you haven't eaten yet, Buck. So let's get you a plate while you explain what in the hell you're doing here, and then we can all have dessert and put in a movie or something."

...Which they do, and hours later they end up curled up in front of the TV and falling asleep together on the couch, Steve leaning against Bucky on one side with Tony curled around him on the other, and Steve wakes to the blue glow of the Bandits DVD menu and thinks this is the most comfortable he's ever been in his life. He likes this. He likes it a lot. They should do this again, except more so, and also often.

And then he falls back asleep and doesn't freak out about that till morning.

When Steve does freak out about it, though, he freaks out badly. Tony and Bucky both end up leaving right after breakfast - Tony for a Saturday work meeting; Bucky to finalize some of the paperwork for his discharge that Steve only just found out he's been planning for months - unknowingly leaving Steve alone with the realization that he wants Tony and Bucky both, and completely unable to process that. Or even deal with it.

The thing is, straight off the bat he's pretty sure Tony would be on board with bringing Bucky into their fledgling relationship. He's the one who brought up the idea in the first place. Though didn't say so explicitly, he's implied pretty heavily that he's been involved in polyamorous relationships before and would be open to being in one again.

So first order of business is broaching the topic with Tony. And then, oh god, and then Steve has to figure out how to broach the topic with Bucky, which is going to be so much worse.

Because with Tony - if Tony doesn't want this to happen, if he wants both he and Steve to be exclusive, then nothing really changes. Steve and Tony continue dating, they continue hanging out with Bucky, there's no evidence Steve ever even thought about this.

Bucky, though.

That is not the case with Bucky. Because with Bucky the big question isn't whether or not he'd like to date Tony - yes or no, either way won't upset the balance of the universe. No, with Bucky the big question is whether or not he'd like to date STEVE. Steve, whom he's been friends with since they were tiny. Steve, whom he's never shown any inclination towards. Steve, so scrawny and bland that most people don't even notice him. That Steve.

He sees both Tony and Bucky over the course of the next two days, though thankfully not at the same time. Bucky's settling in to his new apartment and Tony's busy with something at work, though he still makes a lot of time for Steve.

Steve resolves to just deal with this on his own.

The problem with doing that, though, is that he has a terrible time trying to figure it out and it stresses him out and makes him snappy and irritable - and being around Tony or Bucky just makes it worse. Usually if Steve is stressed or jittery being around one of them will calm him down, like they can smooth out the sharp edges of the world, but now all seeing either of them does is remind him about what it is he's stressing over in the first place.

A week after Bucky's sudden return Tony sits Steve down - practically sits on top of him - and repeats over and over again that it doesn't matter what's wrong, it doesn't matter what's going on, Tony's not going to leave him for it, so please tell him. No matter what Steve says, no matter how many times he tries to explain that he's dealing with it, Tony just keeps saying that. Steve could just get up and leave, and almost does so more than once, but the sudden hurt he sees flashing across Tony's face before Tony can lock it down slices at Steve. The hurt just makes him angrier, though, and resentful at Tony for causing it, and everything just tangles up in his head and falls out of his mouth so he tells Tony the whole thing, but somehow he manages to make it sound like he's mad at Tony about it.

Tony just gazes at him steadily, which just makes the whole thing worse. He doesn't look upset, which he should, since Steve - god. He hangs his head, confused and ashamed and sorry and embarrassed and utterly miserable, and flinches when Tony puts his hand on his arm as though the feel of Steve will hurt Tony worse.

"Okay," Tony says calmly. "There are a few different issues here, so let's go in order, shall we? One, I am not leaving you unless you ask me to go. Two, I am not angry. Three, I'm kinda upset that you've been treating me poorly and that you kept this from me, but I also realize how far outside your experience this is, I realize you didn't keep this from me for all that long, and I realize that I am pretty far outside your experience, too. So. Just, please remember all this next time something like this comes up, okay? Just try to be honest and remember that I'm on your side. Even if honesty is saying 'I'm working through something and I don't want to talk about it yet,' that's good, too."

"I'm sorry," Steve says. The words are inadequate, but - "I'm so, so sorry, Tony."

Steve can't bring himself to look at him, but they're close enough that he can feel the movement of it when Tony shrugs. "I want to be with you," Tony says simply. "Even if you can't or don't want to open up to me all the way, just - let me know where you are so I can be with you, all right?"

The anger doesn't rush out of him so much as it moves to his chest and throat and face and though it still feels hot and tight now it also feels shuddery and broken, like all the things Steve's been thinking and feeling are about to shatter and push out of him. All at once he's thrown back to that time on the porch, the one and only time they've had something like sex, when he was so overwhelmed by everything and so flooded with endorphins he almost started crying, and all at once it feels like he's right back there.

He turns his face away, makes to get up again, and Tony doesn't say a word or make a move to stop him, but -

You didn't think you could ask him to stay, huh, Bucky says in Steve's head.

He hated it, knowing Bucky was looking at him even though his eyes were downcast, that strange disconnect even when they could see and hear each other. He hated that Bucky up and left him to go so far away.

I didn't ask him to stay, Steve points out. Bucky argues: you call him right this second and tell him to come back.

It flips: if the three of them were in a polyamorous relationship then that means that more than just Steve and Bucky dating and Steve and Tony dating, Tony and Bucky would be dating too, and Steve knows from very personal experience how extremely protective Bucky is of the people he cares about. Bucky would tell Tony to stand up for himself and demand what he needs, too.

Are you telling me, Bucky would say to Tony through his teeth, that fucker just left you there?

And: if he's not the type who'd come back for you, you shouldn't let him come back at all.

Steve breathes for one second. Two.

Steve sits down.

Takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry," Steve says. He still can't bring himself to look at Tony, too ashamed to look anywhere other than his own hands.

"It's all right," Tony says.

Steve takes Tony's hand, and though Tony doesn't say anything Steve can tell he's surprised.

"I'm sorry," Steve repeats. Before Tony can say anything else Steve manages, "I'm afraid."

Tony's thumb rubs over Steve's knuckles. "Of what?"

Steve shrugs, looks at the floor, screams honesty! inside his head, and tries to figure out what the truth is. "I'm not sure," he admits.

"Okay," Tony says. "That's all right. We'll figure it out."

Again Steve shakes his head, but this time it's to clear the cobwebs. He looks at Tony, and when Tony smiles tentatively at him, can't help but lean forward and kiss him. Tony's smile is much more pleased and much more genuine after that.

"Eventually, sure," Steve says. "In the meantime, could you - What do you think of all this? What are you feeling? I'm sorry for not asking sooner."

"It's fine." Tony waves it away with his free hand.

"It's really not," Steve says firmly. "I got caught up in my own head and only thought about myself. That's not okay. I care about you and we're together and I want to be with you, too, Tony, only I didn't -" He stops, frustrated, not knowing exactly what he didn't do, just knowing it's something he should have done and he failed. "You're important to me," he settles on. "What you want and what you think and what you're feeling and your, your comfort is important to me. I'm sorry I didn't act like it."

Tony blinks at him, then blinks again. He looks so startled it breaks Steve's heart. Not just for how badly he himself failed Tony, but for how badly Tony must be used to being treated.

"Okay," Tony says at last, when he seems to realize Steve's not going to say anything until he responds.

"Tony," Steve says, struck by a sudden urgent thought, "you know that I'm not asking for this because I'm not happy with what we have, right? Please tell me you know that. Nothing about us is inadequate, it's just -"

"It's just Bucky," Tony says, and smiles. "I know. Believe me, I get it."

Yes, it's just Bucky. But suddenly it's not just that Steve's apparently wanted Bucky subconsciously for god only knows how long - now it's that Tony hasn't been cared for nearly as much as he should have been, and Steve may be shit at this but Bucky sure isn't. He never knew it was possible to want something so much until he thinks of Bucky pouring all the attention and care he's capable of on Tony the way Tony deserves, and Tony soaking it up and appreciating it the way BUCKY deserves.

Steve wants it so much and so viscerally it makes him dizzy.

"All right," Tony says, oblivious to the fact that Steve's just realigned his life's goals towards making sure they all end up together. "Moving on from there. Yes, I like Bucky as well. Yes, I could like him in a romantic kind of way. You're my priority, though. So far as getting together goes, you're it for me. However, realize that if we did get into a polyamorous relationship, you would BOTH be my priority, okay? Assuming you want a relationship and not just a one-night stand, I mean."

"Yes," Steve says firmly, and Tony seems taken aback for a moment but then pleased. "Definitely a relationship. And I'm with you one hundred percent: you are my priority, and if we were all together then you'd both be my priority." And you and Bucky would be each other's priorities, Steve thinks, still dizzy with yearning for how good they would be for each other.

"Good. So, is that - are we officially agreeing we'd like to talk to Bucky about the possibility of all of us entering a long-term relationship?"

"Hell yes," Steve says, and Tony laughs.

"Right. That's good. So I'm pretty sure Bucky would be on board with this -"

"What?"

"Look," Tony says, clearly trying not to laugh at Steve's shock. "I did say we email. And no, I'm not going to tell you anything we talk about, any more than I would give Bucky all the details of our conversations. I'm just saying. I mean I can't be sure, especially about specifics, but I know he's more laid back about relationships than I think you're giving him credit for. I mean. I'm not saying he'd want to go out with either of us, okay. On that front I have no idea. But in general? Yeah. I wouldn't write it off."

Steve spends a feverish night trying to come up with a foolproof plan. It has to be perfect. He gets one shot at this, and he cannot mess it up. Should only one of them pull Bucky aside? Which of them should speak with him first?

Bucky's always said Steve has the mind of a military commander, albeit one of the ones that would consistently pull insane stunts that ended up working, and as he outlines his twelfth battle plan he can definitely see why Bucky says that.

He invites Tony and Bucky over for dinner the very next night, and asks Tony to come early so they can discuss how to go about approaching Bucky.

"All right," Steve says as soon as Tony gets there, kissing him briefly and then dragging him over to the table where he's got a sheaf of papers laid out. "Here are all of our options. Plans Echo through Romeo involve a two-pronged attack while options Golf, India, and Tango require props, but -"

Tony nods solemnly while Steve lays everything out. When he picks up a one of the outlines to start going into detail Tony says, "Steve. Darling. Sweetheart. Apple dumpling. You know I love it when you get all strategic like this, right?"

Slowly, Steve says, "Yeah...?" Because he had picked up on that, but never thought about it explicitly like that before.

Tony says, "It's really incredible the lengths you've gone to in order to avoid actually talking to him."

"Hey," Steve begins hotly, then realizes he can't point to a single plan that proves Tony wrong.

"Steve," Tony says. "Steve. If one of us asks him out, what does that look like?"

"Like we want to date him!"

"But if only one of us asks him?"

Steve sighs. "It looks like we're cheating."

"And if we don't even ask? If one or both of us just starts flirting with him and coming on to him?"

Steve scrubs a hand over his face. "That looks even worse."

"That looks even worse, yep. I don't want to put him in that situation."

"Neither do I."

"Also," Tony says speculatively, "do we really think he'd cheat with someone?"

"We really don't," Steve says, emphatic and feeling very foolish.

In the same speculative tone Tony continues, "I mean, he probably would WITH you, but not on you."

Aghast, Steve starts, "Tony -"

"Well he would!"

"Tony!" Steve catches his hand and his eye and holds him steady. He hadn't realized before how nervous Tony was about this and is kicking himself for it. "Shall we not get into a fight over which of us could and could not get Bucky to cheat on the other."

Tony takes a few deep breaths, then deflates. "Yeah, that's probably a good idea."

Steve tugs his hand until he leans down enough for Steve to kiss him, then kiss him again.

"Hey," Steve says quietly, "you know we don't have to do this, right?"

"Of course," Tony says, thankfully looking confused by the implication he might feel forced.

"I just don't want you to think," Steve sighs. "I care about you so much, Tony, and I just don't want to give you reason to doubt that."

Tony searches his face for a moment, and then a small, bright smile steals across his own. "I know," he says, then kisses Steve quickly. "I know that. I do. I'm just - nervous. But excited."

Steve smiles. "Me, too."

Oddly, Tony tilts his head like he's trying to figure something out. "Look, Steve. If you're so uncomfortable with this that it didn't even occur to you to actually talk to him about it? We should probably wait. No, listen - Just a little while oh my god! Just long enough for you to process it and wrap your head around it, okay? Like I said before: I'm not going anywhere. And it's not like Bucky's marrying someone else tomorrow or something. We have time, okay? Plenty of time."

Tony is apprehensive, Steve realizes, but not for himself. He is one hundred percent on board with this. He's just apprehensive about Steve's comfort level and ability to handle this.

I love you, Steve wants to say, but doesn't know if that would make things easier or harder for Tony, so instead he winds his arms around his neck and kisses him until Bucky knocks on the door.

Steve is more than fine with taking more time for Tony to get comfortable with Steve being comfortable with the idea - at least he is until dinner actually happens. Steve's so caught up in imagining the three of them together he quickly loses track of the conversation, and the words don't make it quite into his brain but what happens is Bucky says something kind and protective to Tony, and Tony just stares at his plate and blinks and his cheeks turn just the tiniest bit dusky and Steve is so overwhelmed with how much he wants that he just blurts out, "TONY AND I WANT TO DATE YOU."

If it weren't for the radio gently crooning on the other side the apartment it would be completely silent. It's especially noticeable since Bucky and Tony had been keeping up such steady conversation before, even if Steve hadn't really joined in. Now, though, Bucky's staring at him - boggling at him, really - and Tony's mouth is open.

After a beat Tony facepalms.

"Well we do!" Steve says defensively, and it seems to be Tony's reaction that's finally knocked Bucky back into the present. That, or clued him in that Steve meant it and this wasn't some kind of weird joke.

"What do you mean?" Bucky asks.

"Well," Steve starts, but Tony shoots him a quelling glance, and for once in his life Steve listens.

Tony turns to Bucky. "We're not breaking up, and we're not - nothing bad is happening, okay? Nothing bad is going to happen, and nothing has to change. All right? But yes, Steve and I have been talking, and we've been talking about asking you if you'd like to be in a polyamorous relationship with us."

"Polyamorous," Bucky says. Steve can't get a read on his tone. He opens his mouth to explain, but still blank-faced Bucky continues, "Like, open? Or with you guys as the primaries?"

Tony's shaking his head. "Nope. We haven't talked about having an open relationship at all, but I for one think it would be best to keep it undeniably closed until everything settles, one way or another. If we want to revisit that at a later date, fine, but let's table that whole thing for right now."

"Right," Bucky says, "so open, but just to me."

"No," Steve says, then scrunches his nose, because he is sure that Bucky doesn't have it right but he can't put his finger on why.

"Equilateral," Tony says. "No primary. Or, I guess, the relationship between all three of us being primary, however you want to look at it. But equal. Not Steve and I with you off to the side. No. All three of us equal."

"Polyfidelitous and equilateral," Bucky says, and that first one is a word Steve doesn't even know, and he suddenly sees what Tony meant about Bucky maybe being more open to the idea of this than Steve was giving him credit for.

"Yeah," Steve says. For the first time since Steve opened his mouth Bucky looks at him.

Bucky used to do this thing when they were kids, where his face would go kind of tense, but then it wouldn't change again, no matter what happened. Bucky broke his arm when he was ten and pulled out the Tense Face and Steve will swear in a court of law that his expression didn't change for a solid sixteen hours. Since he's grown up, and especially since he's been in the army, he's perfected the Blank Stare to the point where it looks like he fell asleep with his eyes open. It's useful, he says, because it makes people think he's not paying attention, or that he really doesn't care what's happening around him.

Now, though.

The Blank Stare is on in full force, but it falls apart when Bucky meets Steve's eyes. It may only be for a split second, but that's long enough for Steve to see how worried and on-edge Bucky is. Close to panicking, even.

"Buck," Steve says, trying not to sound too gentle. "We've both talked about it at length. It was - you were something - or, well, someone - I mean - Look, being with you was something both of us wanted before we even talked to each other about it, okay? This really is something that we both - we both want."

Despite how much he wants to keep going Steve leaves it there, lets Bucky have a moment to process, and is very glad that Tony does the same.

"I don't understand," Bucky says at last. "It's just so - It's so out of left field."

"The you-thing, or the polyamory-in-general thing?" Tony asks lightly.

It cracks the tension somewhat, drawing smiles out of Steve and Bucky both.

"Both, I guess," Bucky admits with a laugh. "I had no idea either of you were in the market for a third."

"We weren't," Steve says. Catches Bucky's eye and holds it, says firm as he knows how. "Just you."

"Oh," Bucky says, looking down.

"Look, nothing has to change tonight," Tony says. "Realistically, nothing should change tonight. You need to think this through, really think it through, and then the three of us need to talk a lot more. And there's not - No consequences, okay? Neither Steve nor I will ever bring this up again. Ball's in your court, Bucky. If you don't want anything to change, it won't. This isn't an ultimatum. We just - I have feelings for you, all right? And I want to be with you. But the reason I want that is because I like you, and that's sure as hell not going to just go away if you don't want any part of this, okay?"

"He's right," Steve cuts in quickly. "I'd rather cut off my own leg than jeopardize our friendship, okay? Nothing has to change. Nothing has to change quickly, or ever at all. I really, really mean that, Buck."

"Okay," Bucky says. He looks like he's thinking furiously. "Okay."

"Right!" Tony says, clapping his hands and making both Bucky and Steve jump. "I know we were going to watch The Losers, but I'm suddenly in the mood for Cloud Atlas instead. Thoughts?"

It's the most obvious change of topic Steve's ever heard, but it's not like Tony was trying to be subtle. Neither of them has seen Cloud Atlas before, but Tony says he's in the mood for epic romances and things that don't make a whole lot of sense, and acts baffled at his own thought processes. Trying to convince Steve and Bucky to watch the movie without saying a single word about the plot and adamantly refusing to allow either of them to look it up on their phones (knowing anything at all about the plot beforehand would ruin it, he insists) carries them through the rest of dinner, and it's not until they're clearing the table that Bucky suddenly whirls on Tony and  says, indignant and laughing, "Oh Jesus, that's why you made us watch Bandits last time!"

"Made you?" Tony says, willfully missing the point. "I seem to remember both of you being on board the moment you found out it was a comedy starring Cate Blanchett."

"Sure, Tony," Steve says, patting him patronizingly on the shoulder as he goes past. "That was definitely what Bucky was talking about." 

Bucky's still shaking his head. "You seriously watched that movie just to see what I would think about polyamory?"

Tony shrugs, unrepentant. "And to make sure we all had a point of reference in common. And, hey, not everything is about you, you know. At least half the reason was so that I could use it to talk to Steve about it."

"Huh," Steve says. Tony had said that he'd been thinking about this for a while, but Steve hadn't realized he'd been thinking about it since before Bucky even got back. "Wait a minute," Steve says. "You bought that movie the day you came over for dinner. Did you know Bucky was coming home?"

It's not - he's not sure if he's upset or not. Jealous that Bucky told Tony and not him, maybe? Weirded out that Bucky would have told Tony something important and kept it from Steve? Weirded out by how not at all upset or jealous he is? Or maybe -

"No," Tony and Bucky say at the same time, then laugh. "No,"  Tony repeats, "I had no idea."

"So you wanted to have the polyamory discussion before Bucky even came home?" Steve asks.

"Well yeah," Tony says. "I am impatient. We all know this."

Steve laughs and pulls Tony in by the waist, but at the last second doesn't kiss him. Doesn't know if that'd be weird, with Bucky maybe wanting to kiss one or both of them and maybe not. Really doesn't want Bucky to feel left out, either. So he turns it into a hug instead, dropping his face to Tony's shoulder and muffling his smile in his shirt.

They do watch Cloud Atlas, and a single solitary hint regarding what it was about absolutely would have ruined it, and it definitely was exactly the right movie for them to watch at exactly the right time.

After the movie they're all quiet and subdued, though Steve thinks it has less to do with the hour - probably less to do with their pending relationship change, honestly - than with the movie itself. They part ways, and Steve still doesn't kiss Tony, and Bucky doesn't kiss one or both of them either. When Bucky's leaving Steve goes in for a one-armed bro-hug like always, then thinks the better of it. What if Bucky's uncomfortable? What if he doesn't want Steve, and now that he knows Steve wants him he doesn't want Steve's greedy hands on him?

Bucky huffs and rolls his eyes when he sees Steve stop, though. "C'mere, punk," he says, and pulls Steve in.

It's not a one-armed hug, though, and it's definitely not a bro-hug either. Bucky doesn't even put one arm over his shoulder; instead wraps both arms around Steve's waist and pulls him in like they're already lovers. Steve's heart kicks into overdrive and he wraps his arms around Bucky in turn, automatically turning his face into Bucky's neck.

They hold it for just a moment, not even long enough for Steve to start guessing and second-guessing whether he should pull back first or let Bucky hug him as long as he wants, and before he can get himself tied in a knot Bucky steps back and nudges his shoulder. "Punk," he says again, voice filled with affection.

As affecting and good as it may have been to be in Bucky's arms, watching Bucky and Tony hug, however briefly, is even more so.

Yeah, Steve's pretty sure he's not going to have much in the way of jealousy, he thinks as he tries to adjust himself without calling attention to it, at least as far as the physical goes.

The next morning Bucky sends a text to both of them saying, Count me in.

Steve can't stop smiling like a moron all day.