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Tony would just like everyone to know that he said the Asgardian mead was a bad idea.
He said it, he did, and tomorrow morning, he’ll get to say I told you so.
Today, however, he has a very handsy Bucky and a very affectionate Steve to deal with, and he’s not sure which one is worse.
Bucky’s hand creeps towards his inner thigh for the fifth time in ten minutes and for the fifth time in ten minutes, Tony firmly removes it, placing it back in Bucky’s lap. “Nope,” he says, ignoring the laughter in Natasha’s eyes as she watches the three of them. “No, we’re not doing that.”
Bucky gives him a very pathetic pout that absolutely does not make Tony melt. “I just wanna touch it a little.”
“And I would like to not wake up with regrets tomorrow morning so hands to yourself.”
“I wouldn’t regret it,” Bucky grumbles, hands starting to wander again.
Tony sighs and firmly holds both of Bucky’s in his, keeping them right where he can see them. “I know you wouldn’t,” he says tiredly. How much mead had Thor given them? It’s been three hours, shouldn’t they be at least starting to sober up? “But I would.”
There’s a low whining sound from his left side. Tony groans and turns to Steve, who lays his head on his shoulder and blinks up at him with those big blue eyes. “You would regret us?” Steve asks sadly, mouth turned down at the corners.
Tony leans forward and drops a quick kiss on Steve’s forehead. “Yep. Drunken consent still isn’t consent even when we’re dating, and even if you both really, really want it, I like my partners to at least remember what we did.”
“I wouldn’t forget you,” Steve murmurs. “I love you.”
The words have been said before but not nearly frequently enough for Tony’s breath to keep from hitching. It still sends a thrill through his body every time he hears it. How could it not? There’d been a long time there when he’d thought he would never have anyone who would love him, and now he has two people.
“I—” he starts to say, but Steve puts a finger on his lips, shushing him.
“I especially love your eyes,” he says dreamily and reaches up to pet them, closing Tony’s eyes as he does.
“I know, babe.” And he does. Steve compliments him on his eyes all the time.
“They’re like dirt.”
Well, that’s a new one. Usually, Tony gets that they’re like whiskey, or when Steve’s in a particularly happy mood, like Bambi. Natasha nearly chokes on her laughter as Tony’s mouth twists.
“Great,” he says dryly. Bucky tugs his hands from Tony’s, who only barely notices. “Thanks, babe. A+ compliment there.”
“Dirt makes things grow,” Steve informs him solemnly.
“That they do,” he agrees, throwing Natasha a dirty look as she continues to snicker. Fuck, where’s the rest of the team when he needs them? How did he miss them all heading off to bed while he was trying to wrangle Steve and Bucky and stop them from drinking the entire contents of the barrel Thor brought back from Asgard?
“So it’s good that your eyes are like dirt.”
“Could be worse,” Natasha says. “He could have said your eyes are like manure.”
Steve’s eyes light up and Tony claps a hand over his mouth to keep him from saying that. He doesn’t think he could stand it. There are a lot of things he’s been compared to in his life, and many of them have been bad, but that would definitely be one of the worst.
“Don’t give him any ideas,” he grumbles and then yelps when Bucky’s hand lands squarely on his dick.
“James!” he hisses, scandalized. He twists in his seat, away from Bucky’s wandering hands, even if that means moving closer to Steve, who promptly latches onto him like a limpet. What is this world coming to that Tony, of all people, is horrified by some light exhibitionism? He thinks about burying his head in his hands and groaning but decides against it. There’s no telling what Bucky would do if Tony took his eyes off of him.
“Okay,” he says abruptly and stands up, dislodging Steve. “You know what? I had high hopes that we’d be able to sober up down here but that’s definitely not going to happen so we’re going to bed.”
“Together?” Bucky asks, waggling his eyebrows. It’s normally a very effective strategy, but tonight he’s too loose to look anything other than ridiculous. Tony bites back a laugh.
No encouragement.
Stand your ground, Stark.
…Even if it’s really tempting.
“Nope,” he says, popping the p. He rocks back on his heels. “You two are going to go to bed and I am going to sleep with Natasha.”
It’s the least she can do for laughing at his misfortune all evening. And besides, it’s not like they haven’t shared a bed before. Most of the team have shared a bed at one point or another. It’s a great way to deal with the nightmares they all have. And Nat’s scary enough that even Bucky won’t dare argue with her, especially once she nods and slides her hand through the crook of his elbow.
“I’d love to have you over tonight,” she says in that sly tone that means she’s rubbing this in Bucky’s face. He sighs. When did his life get so complicated? What did he do in a past life that was so bad he now has to deal with petty spies and assassins with roaming hands?
“Nat, stop teasing Bucky,” he orders. “Bucky, keep your hands to yourself. And Steve, just—” Steve gives him the biggest puppy dog eyes. Tony regrets every single time he’s ever told Steve how effective those are. “Never mind. Bed. You two are going and what you get up to once you’re there is none of my concern.”
“It could be,” Bucky says with another one of those eyebrow wiggles.
“Uh-huh,” Tony says, not impressed. “Darling, you’re so drunk you’re nearly falling over. I’d be surprised if you can even get it up.”
“Oh doll, I can always get it up for you.”
“Charming,” he says flatly.
Steve slides his hand into Tony’s free one, interlacing their fingers and swinging them, happy as a clam. Tony glances over at him and opens his mouth to say something, what he’s not sure. It’s not like this is nearly as much of a problem as Bucky’s leering is; it’s just a little awkward. Before he can say anything, Steve beams at him and lifts their joined hands up so he can press a soft kiss to the back of Tony’s. Tony shuts his mouth again and tries not to blush.
After a moment, he says, “Nat, can you take Bucky upstairs if I’ve got Steve?”
She nods. “Let’s go, Джеймс.”
Bucky pouts but obediently follows her to the elevator. Once they’re gone, Tony turns to Steve, who promptly wraps him up in a hug. “Were we really that bad tonight?” Steve mumbles, voice muffled by Tony’s hair.
He wants to say yes, wants it to never happen again because tonight was awkward-with-a-capital-A, but he thinks of all the times Rhodey and Pepper have had to wrangle him when he had too much to drink. “Worse things have happened,” he tells him instead and nudges Steve’s jaw up so he can kiss him in that sensitive spot right under his chin.
“Good,” Steve says and finally—finally—he sounds sleepy. “I never want to cause you problems.”
Tony smiles fondly. He knows they don’t. That’s why he finds it impossible to stay mad at them when they do things like this. “Come on, honey. Let’s get you upstairs before you become deadweight.”
“You’d have to get the suit to move me,” Steve says drowsily, stumbling along with Tony as they head for the elevators.
“That’s very true.”
Natasha is already gone by the time he gets Steve into their bedroom, and fortunately, Bucky is already asleep, snoring softly as he lies facedown on the bed. “Small miracles,” Tony mutters, shoving Steve in the direction of the bathroom.
He helps Steve out of his clothes, decides against a shower—they’ve tried sleepy Steve in the shower before and it never turns out well—and eventually gets his teeth brushed. By that point, Steve is all but swaying on his feet so it’s no effort at all to get him tucked into bed beside Bucky, who must know on some subconscious level that it’s Steve next to him because he rolls over and wraps himself around Steve like he’s part octopus.
Tony smiles at the sight of them and pulls his phone out to take a quick picture before he grabs a couple things and then heads down to Nat’s floor. She’s also already in bed by the time he gets there, but she’s leaning up against the headboard, reading a book.
“Thanks,” he says wearily as he drags himself into her bathroom.
“You owe me,” she says simply. “Besides, it was easy once he realized you weren’t there. Just had to promise him you’d be coming up soon.”
“You’re a genius.” He stumbles back out of the bathroom and faceplants on the bed, burying his face into her hip. “Fuck, that was exhausting. Was I ever that bad when you were working for me? No, don’t answer that. I think we all remember that party.”
She laughs and cards her fingers through his hair. “You did well, котенок.” She pauses. “But I still took pictures.”
“…I hate you.”