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“I hate him.”
“Tony,” Rhodey sighs.
“No, I do,” he insists, and Bucky’s stomach drops. Why he thought it would be a good idea to stay and eavesdrop on this conversation is beyond him. Bucky never has good ideas.
See, he’s used to people being suspicious of him, disliking him, being afraid of him. But Tony. Tony had been none of those things.
Not after they’d been emailing back and forth. And not after Bucky had agreed to be transferred to the Avengers Compound.
Let’s be honest though, that was not the first bad idea Bucky’s had.
His first, after the bunker at least, had been reaching out to Tony at all. And then growing so embarrassingly obsessed with him while Bucky was still in Wakanda that during an episode of some game show, an obscure fact about one Tony Stark had been asked, and not only had Bucky known the answer, he’d known the entire story behind it and had opinions. Like it personally mattered to him.
Princess Shuri had shaken her head and didn’t even deign to tease him about it. That’s probably when he should’ve known.
Instead, it hit him when he’d started living at the Compound; had seen Tony’s smile in person, heard him laugh and familiarized himself with the exact curve of the dimple beneath Tony’s perfectly groomed beard; that Bucky had called the princess from a surveillance deadzone in an impossible angle somewhere between a sanitation pipe in the common cafeteria and Vision’s frog garden, and hissed accusingly, “Why didn’t you tell me I was in love with him?”
“Because I thought it would be funnier when you figured it out,” she declared, “and I was right.”
After giving him a pep talk on his desirability (”You’ve got big blue puppy eyes, use them!”), Princess Shuri had sent him off on a mission to win Tony’s affections, two days after Bucky had sequestered himself away to make peace with his pining.
Besides, as the princess had said, “If Tony didn’t want you around, he’d have told you so to your face a long time ago. And if he’s willing to be friends after everything, there’s no harm in trying to be anything more, and you certainly can’t make the decision for him.” Before, she paused and decided, “That’s good. You should use that in your speech.” Then, “I’m going to be an awesome best woman when you get married. There won’t be a dry eye in the building after I rewrite your vows.”
“What," Bucky deadpans
“Well, who else is going to stand with you? Rogers?” She snorts. “Also, I’m veto-ing a winter wedding. Spring or fall, only.”
And that had been that. Except. It’s been a month since the revelation, and an overwhelming amount of plans derived from “fanfiction approved cliches”, and Bucky’s not any closer to finding out if Tony even likes him. Which. He apparently doesn’t.
Before Bucky can slink off to go lick his wounds, and possibly drown himself in the shower, Tony groans, “I just. I want to bake him cookies, wrap him in blankets and protect him from everyone.”
“You do remember that he’s a highly trained assassin, right?” Rhodey drawls with another sigh, the sound of a page being flipped; only half paying attention to a conversation that seems well worn. Bucky’s heart upticks. “He could level an entire military battalion with a spoon.”
“Yeah,” Tony sighs like the thought is just darling.
Rhodey doesn’t reply, but Bucky has the sneaking suspicion that he’s rolling his eyes.
“He’s got this...wide-eyed look about him though. Like Bambi. He’s just...lost and sweet and-and when he uses Google he says thank you, Rhodey. When was the last time I’ve been with a guy that was polite?”
“You need higher standards,” Rhodey says, and Bucky inclines his head in agreement.
“We’ll have a spring wedding,” Tony decides.
“Getting ahead of ourselves, buddy.”
“He reads the bots bedtime stories, Rhodey," Tony declares like that’s the deciding factor.“You don’t even do that!”
That’s because they don't like how Rhodey reads it; he doesn’t do the voices, Butterfingers said so. A sentiment that Friday echoes, making Tony flail widely enough in demonstration that Rhodey is complaining, “Stop that, you’ll take out my eye!”
Tony sighs dramatically before going quiet as he adds in an awed sigh, “And he likes me, Rhodey.”
At that, Rhodey’s tone softens, “Tony...”
“I just..." Tony sighs again, voice aching, "I can talk to him about stuff, and he doesn't get freaked out by any of the weird shit that comes out of my mouth. And. And that night terror I had, you remember that? He handled it like a champ."
"Yeah, he did," Rhodey echoed, consoling.
"And he thinks I’m funny and smart, and-and...I like him,” Tony concludes, and Bucky’s heart fucking swells; his face is doing something weird. Uh. Smiling. That’s it!
There’s a pause before Rhodey says, “I know, man. I know.” Then, “But for the love of god when you tell him, is there any possibility at all that you won’t take it too far?”
Shaking off the lapse in vulnerability, Tony asks, ever innocent, “Whatever could you mean, Platypus?”
“I don’t know! Like...building him a new arm!” There's another pause, then a groan. “You already built one, didn’t you?”
“I had to!” Tony defends, “He’s learning how to knit and it's hard doing it with just one hand, okay?” Rhodey sighs, exasperated, but Tony continues, unperturbed, “Besides, with his general physique, Bucky could fuck me standing, and it’d probably be easier to have two hands to hold the goods.”
Rhodey makes a choking noise.
Bucky doesn’t blame him.
He’s got a boner in his pants, and a metaphorical one in his heart, and apparently a spring wedding to look forward to.