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    Summary

    Steve nudged Bucky’s arm, “Silver foxes are his type.” He quickly took a sip of his beer before Bucky could hit him. Bucky could feel his heart beat faster.

    “Hmm…not the first time I’ve been called that, honestly.” Stark sipped his whiskey. He looked at them both, his eyes almost like a physical touch, “So, what’s your type, Blondie?”

    “Oh! Uhh...well,” Steve rubbed the back of his neck.

    Bucky knew an opportunity for revenge when he saw one. “He is a bossy fuckin’ bottom, and his type is anyone who can put up with that.”

    “Dammit Buck,” Steve sputtered, his ears turned pink in a flash.

    “I can handle that. Well, if you two are sober enough to consent, my car is waiting out front.”

    Steve’s eyes locked with his. It wasn’t their intention to go home with someone when they came out, just to look, but he was the one putting it all out there, and Bucky could see a challenging smirk on Steve’s plush lips, the one he gets when he wants to play. Stark waited for them both to nod, then he drained his glass before pulling out the blue-tinted glasses and settling them back on his face, “Shall we?

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