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“Karaoke night was awesome~e!” Tony sings as Rhodey herds him off the elevator and into the living room of the tower.
“Yeah you looked like you were having a good time,” Rhodey says with a snort, “especially because you spent most of the night hanging all over Barnes.”
Tony nearly trips over the edge of a rug in his hurry to spin and fix Rhodey with a confused look that he really hopes looks more convincing than it feels as he sputters out “I-I wasn’t—“
“Don’t even try, Tones,” Rhodey says, stepping closer and narrowing his eyes in a way that always spells trouble for Tony, “I can see the imprint of his dumb earrings where they were digging into your ear.”
“Oh come on,” Tony scoffs, resisting the urge to cover his ear where maybe he can still feel Bucky’s lingering warmth, “That’s not even, he was playing my jams—“
“You have his eyeshadow on your cheek,” Rhodey says, reaching out like he’s going to poke Tony in the jaw and now Tony does slap his hand over his cheek.
Which, based on how warm it feels, is probably currently the same bright red as his armor. Not great for his case, but Tony still tries to insist “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Rhodey just stares at him, completely unimpressed.
“I don’t have to stand for this!” Tony shouts, then spins on his heel and makes a break for his bedroom as quickly as he physically can.
He can’t actually hear it through the walls of the tower, but he can feel Rhodey laughing at him.
Bucky has been face down on the dorm couch for the past twenty minutes now, and he has zero intention of moving. Possibly ever.
He is aware that Natasha came in about ten minutes ago and dropped into the armchair with a magazine, but he’s really hoping she won’t actually say anything about his moping act. Or his occasional pitiful groan.
His hopes are thoroughly smashed when, without preamble, she asks “So, did your eyeshadow of seduction work?”
Bucky really feels like his current position should explain that all on it’s own, but he knows that if he doesn’t answer she’s going to start throwing things at him. “No!” He shouts, his voice muffled by the couch cushion because he refuses to lift his head just so she can mock him.
“Tragic,” Natasha says flatly, then loudly and pointedly flips a page in her magazine.
“How’s he doing?” Steve calls from somewhere upstairs, and Bucky can hear the laughter in his voice.
“Bad!” Natasha calls back gleefully. “And now he’s getting purple all over the furniture!”
Bucky groans harder and swears he’s never moving.
“Oh stop being so dramatic,” Natasha says, “I found something that I think will cheer you up, as soon as you stop trying to merge with the couch.”
When his response is another drawn out groan she throws something heavy and jagged at the back of his head.
Bucky is waiting outside the tower when Tony leaves the next morning, and Tony absolutely doesn’t almost trip over his own feet in surprise.
“Hey,” Bucky says, as gorgeous in the too-early sunlight as he is in the shifting lights of Club A, “You left your customized mic last night.”
“Oh shit, thanks,” Tony says as he hurries to take the microphone from Bucky’s hand and wow in the bright light of day the bow is sparkly.
And the rhinestone pattern can really only be described as aggressive.
“Jan made it for me,” he says, like that really needs specified, and tucks the mic into his jacket pocket where hopefully he won’t lose it again.
“’S cute,” Bucky says, with that tiny grin that always does funny things to Tony’s heart rate.
“Thanks,” Tony says again, stupidly, and just hopes that the blush he can feel building in his cheeks isn’t actually visible. “It makes me sing better,” he says, just for something to prolong the conversation, and then hurries to add “Not because of any autotune or anything like that, it’s just the cuteness of the mic. It boosts confidence.”
“Sure,” Bucky says with a small nod, “like how I play better when you’re around.”
“Exactly!” Tony says brightly, and then processes the second half of that statement. “Wait, what?”
“Fuck,” Bucky groans and drops his chin, pinching the bridge of his nose between metal fingers.
“Uh,” Tony says, gears grinding in his brain as he tries to find any explanation for what Bucky just said, other than the obvious, which can’t be right. Finally he just ends up repeating “What?”
From distressingly nearby comes Rhodey’s voice, shouting “Doing great, champ!”
Tony glances over his shoulder and look at that, Rhodey is on the bench right outside the tower with what looks like half the contents of Tony’s cheese fridge. “Thank you, Rhodey,” he says through gritted teeth, shooting quick looks at Bucky between trying to glare Rhodey into silence.
Bucky still has his eyes squeezed firmly shut, and it kind of sounds like he’s fighting down a distressed noise.
“You’re both disasters!” Rhodey calls through a mouthful of what looks like Tony’s best gouda, damnit.
And now here comes Steve’s voice, from distressingly far across the quad, practically screaming as he helpfully adds “Tell him you liked his seduction eyeshadow!”
“Oh my god,” Bucky groans quietly and when Tony tears his gaze away from giving Steve a horrified stare there’s a hint of pink across the bridge of Bucky’s nose, spreading fascinatingly over his cheeks.
“I did,” Tony blurts out, and then grins sheepishly when Bucky finally drops his hand and looks up at him again, “like the eyeshadow. But you always look amazing. Seduction eyeshadow or no. Just for the record.”
“Yeah?” Bucky asks and oh no, his tiny grin is getting a tiny bit bigger, is doing frankly dangerous things to Tony’s heart rate. “Well, maybe it’ll gimme the balls to ask you out one’a these days.”
“Or!” Tony squeaks out and then pauses to clear his throat, willfully ignoring Rhodey’s cackling in the background as he tries again. “Or, maybe you could just wear it when we go out. Maybe tonight, even.”
Bucky blinks at him, like somehow he still hadn’t seen that coming, and then his grin gets a little bigger.
Across the quad Steve cheers loudly enough to draw the attention of everyone he somehow hadn’t the first time, and Rhodey celebrates by pelting them with bits of cheese.