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It takes twelve whole minutes to wiggle into his leather pants.
Tony’s ass looks damn good in them, and even though they’re technically Pepper’s and he’s technically supposed to deny he borrowed them from her, he’s now considering the fallout if he never gives them back. He looks damn good.
Technically, it was Pepper’s idea to go as Sandy. Good-girl-gone-bad vibes suit you, she said flippantly over their last brunch, in between twelve o’clock Mimosas. He’s partial to the greasers himself— bad boys with a little too much oil in their hair and on their cars.
But the irony is too fun to pass up, and Tony is more than ready to watch a dozen straight boys drool over his ass tonight.
Tony smiles as he puts away his phone, thankful for the pockets in his leather jacket since Pepper’s pants leave absolutely no room for storage. He adjusts himself discreetly— no room at all.
“Damn woman,” he hisses, grabbing his wallet and locking the front door. He can feel his phone buzzing insistently as she’s either texting or calling or FaceTiming the hell out of him.
It’s finally cold outside— fortunate for autumn, but unfortunate for sad, pathetic college students in slutty Halloween costumes. He’s grateful for the extra layer of leather, wrapping it tight around his shoulders and ducking his head, hoping the chilly October breeze doesn’t destroy his curls.
Pepper is angry, but honestly, when isn’t she angry? Tony guesses he would be too if he had just met his soulmate and his broke, gay disaster of a best friend kept getting in the way. And regardless, he’s pretty sure she’s not actually upset. Ninety-eight percent sure… because otherwise she wouldn’t be trying to hide a smile the entire drive to campus.
They park three blocks away because it’s a Saturday, Tony— don’t want to drive in circles to find parking. He glares at Pepper for a solid fifteen seconds.
“I’m wearing fucking three inch Louboutin booties, Pep. You are not getting me to trek a half mile in the cold.”
She gets him to trek a half mile in the cold.
“So how’s Small, Scary and Redhead?” He asks, enjoying the way Pepper stumbles and almost lands in the gutter. Serves her right.
With a light push, she links their arms together, ensuring her own safety while also keeping Tony from running away. Dammit. He’s not sure how she’s still walking— the temperature well below freezing and legs on full display below her tiny pink mini skirt.
He pouts. If he didn’t hate shaving so much, he’d call dibs on the slutty Princess Peach costume.
Her hand tightens around his arm, “For the record, Natasha is still incredible, and she’s not that scary.”
“Not that… okay, Pepper,” he looks into her eyes, voice low and serious, “I know you can’t see it because of the residual soulmate bond hormones or whatever shit, but she wants to eat me, Pepper. I swear.”
Pepper throws back her head in laughter, her delight in Tony’s pain jingling sweetly in the autumn air as the jarring rhythm of bass nearby grows louder, shouting and drunken laughter overwhelming them with every step. “You’re being a drama queen. She doesn’t want to eat you…”
They reach the steps of the frat house, and Tony’s distracted by the atmosphere and thrum of the party as Pepper leans down, pressing her lips to his cheek and whispering, “... she doesn’t swing that way.”
“Pepper!” He gasps, swatting at her as she pulls him up the driveway towards the house. She continues laughing until he can’t hear it anymore, their bodies already being absorbed into the rolling movement of the crowd, hands and arms and fingers all over the place.
Tony shudders. He hates events like this— no conversation, no humanity, just drunken, stupid passion. Of course, he’s all for the passion. He’s twenty, not someone’s grandfather.
He quickly realized that the main purpose of mixers and parties like this— besides hooking up and losing brain cells to a keg— is to brush up against as many people as you can, hoping for a soulbond to spark.
Although, who’d want to find their soulmate in a place like this? Tony immediately regrets wearing his sexy shoes. There are cups and puddles on the ground, liquids that Tony wouldn’t step in if he was paid. Or tortured.
Pepper and Natasha met through mutual friends, a cute coffee shop date with croissants and espresso and a sweet first touch on each other’s wrists, resulting in gold tinted scars stretching across their pulse points.
It’s cute. Sickeningly cute.
So Tony decides to sulk in the corner, touching up the gloss on his lips and crossing his arms, making sure nobody presses into his space or tries to touch him. Good-girl-gone-bad vibes, he thinks, trying to radiate displeasure across the room.
“You sure look miserable.”
“Rhodey!” Tony yelps, immediately jumping into his best friend’s arms, “My sweet bear, my savior!”
“Hey, Tones,” Rhodey pats him on the back, ruffling his curls with one hand and earning himself an indignant squawk.
Tony takes a moment to fix his hair, “Please tell me you didn’t bring…”
“Hi, Tony,” a feminine, very unwelcome voice joins in, “Nice to see you, too.”
“Hey, Carol. Looking incredible, as always.”
Rhodey’s soulmate, Carol Danvers, is dressed as a convincing Wonder Woman next to Rhodey’s Superman. They’ve always been more of a typical couple, prone to stereotypes. Tony loves that for them.
She looks him over with a raised eyebrow, “You came as… my 2008 angst?”
“Hah hah,” he crosses his arms, making sure to bat his eyelashes and bite his lip enticingly. God, he loves how jealous she gets, “I’m actually my own teenage angst, thanks.”
“Stop, Tones. Oh, hey,” Rhodey waves a hand, calling over a ginormous blonde cowboy with the craziest jawline Tony has ever seen. He wants to lick it. “Steve, this is Tony, the friend I was telling you about.”
“Oh?” Steve says as he gives Rhodey a bro hug. Gross. Every inch of him is covered in cowhide and fake weapons, and the hat placed on top of his head should be illegal it’s so hot. He also looks confused, giving Tony a long look from top to bottom, and then something visibly clicks. “Oh, this Tony? This is Tony?”
“Hell yeah, although you can call me whatever you’d like, hot shot,” Tony fires off, giving the dumb himbo in front of him a wink for good measure. He extends his hand, exposing his wrist, and waits.
Steve, god bless him, just stares back and forth between Tony and Rhodey, as if he’s searching for a clue behind the mess in front of him. Tony holds his ground, a challenge he wonders if Steve will back down from.
He doesn’t. Steve brings their hands together swiftly, a quick handshake that has no passion, no heat behind it. Certainly no spark. And when Tony pulls himself closer, he can already see the glow of gold peeking out from behind his cowhide vest.
“Ah,” he breathes out, stepping back, “so you’re the taken type of cowboy?”
His face is hot, and he’s very aware of everyone who just watched him make a fool of himself for a bonded man. God, what a dick. Steve at least hangs his head, looking ashamed, “I am, my bonded is actually getting us drinks right now.”
Of course. Of course, grabbing drinks. “That’s... okay—”
“Actually,” Rhodey cuts in, thank god, “I called Steve over because he’s got this friend…”
“No.” Tony crosses his arms again. “Absolutely not.”
“C’mon, he’s really sweet, and—”
“No.”
“— I swear you’ll get along—”
“No! What did I say the last time you tried to set me up?” Tony snaps, looking expectantly into Rhodey’s guilty eyes.
Now Rhodey looks ashamed, “Never again.”
“Right. Never again,” he turns to Steve, putting up both hands, “I’m sorry. I’m sure your friend is lovely, really. I’m just not ready to be set up again, okay.”
With that, he leaves. His friends call after him— shit, Steve calls after him— but he ignores them, heading towards the back of the house where he’s positive a backdoor must be. He gets a few hands brushing against him, only one grabbing his ass, before he finds the exit.
It’s smokey out here, and Tony just rolls his eyes. He wishes he could trust the water at a place like this, but he’ll probably end up taking Pepper’s car home anyways and stop at McDonald’s. Their water tastes like grease and oil and it’s incredible.
Tony scowls and locks his phone. He’ll force her to pay for brunch next time, and probably keep these leather pants. Yeah, definitely keep these pants.
He’d never smoke, god no, but standing out here with all the low lives and rejects he’s suddenly way too desperate for something self-destructive. How long has it been since he’s looked for his soulmate? Since he even dated casually?
And now he’s being set up with the rejects of his bonded friends, too.
It’s dark and chilly, but he’s enjoying what little fresh air he can suck into his lungs. The wall is surprisingly comfortable against his back, and he feels like one of those moody characters in an 80’s film, pondering the meaning of life and holding the building up with his angst.
“Motherfu— did Sam put you up to this?” A voice comes from his left, clearly upset, and Tony turns to look. Maybe there will be a fight.
He’s surprised to see a man in all leather, hair slicked back with wide shoulders and piercing gray eyes staring straight at him. “M-m-me?” Tony stutters, blinking up at the terrifyingly beautiful greaser in front of him.
Oh god. Is this guy here for him?
At Tony’s shocked expression, the man deflates a little, raking strong fingers through his dark hair, “So what— it’s just coincidence that we both came dressed like this?”
Tony looks between them and raises an eyebrow, “In a school of thirty thousand you don’t think there would be at least one other person dressed in leather?”
“No, I… I guess not. Seems like bullshit to me.”
“Sure, John Travolta.”
The man in front of him finally cracks a smile, “Bucky,” he says, and Tony notes that he doesn’t offer his hand. That’s fine for Tony— he’s done meeting people tonight.
“Tony.”
“So, tell me Tony,” Bucky takes a step closer, turning so he can lean against the wall just a few feet away, “how’d you get stuck here tonight?”
“I got dragged here by a Princess, cornered by Superman and a Cowboy, and now I’m out here,” he gives Bucky a pointed look, sweeping the length of his obviously fit body, “wondering if the bad boy thing is an act, or if you’re really interested in a guy like me?”
He lets his tone rise on the last words, twanging sweet with a false southern accent as he bats his eyelashes. Bucky just hums and gives Tony an indulgent smile— one side ticking up and eyes shining with amusement.
Oh great heavens and earth below, he’s gorgeous.
“Who said a bad boy can’t be into a pretty guy like you?” Bucky purrs, his voice sending shivers down Tony’s spine.
He must actually tremble, because the flirtatious grin falls off Bucky’s face in an instant. It’s replaced by concern, but Tony quickly waves it off, “Just the wind, don’t worry.”
That doesn’t deter Bucky. He’s suddenly tucked under a hulking, leather-clad bicep and pulled against a firm chest, both of them careful to keep skin from touching in the process.
“Well,” Bucky hums, his voice much closer now, “now we have nothin’ to worry about, yeah?”
“Y-yeah,” Tony stutters, cursing himself for being so easy for big, muscley men.
They stay like that for another minute, lost in the warmth and strength of the other at their side, until Bucky looks down, eyebrows drawn together in thought.
“Did you… did you say a cowboy cornered you?”
“Yes,” Tony nods, “Big blonde cowboy named Steve. Said he was already bonded, had a mark across his chest.”
“Goddamn motherfucking idiot,” Bucky snarls, and the force of it actually causes Tony to jump in surprise. “Told that dumbass not to meddle, and what does he do—“
“Wait, wait…” Tony lets his brain put together the pieces for a moment, “Is Steve… do you know him?”
“Yeah, best friend. Him and his mate, Sam, think it’s real cute to try’n set me up. I guess that’s the curse of bein’ their only unbonded friend?”
“Not the only one,” Tony clears his throat, barely stopping himself from laughing, “I think they played us, Bucky. It’s a set up.”
“Those absolute—“
“Did you choose your outfit?” Tony suddenly asks.
Bucky looks down at himself and shakes his head, eyes wide, “Oh god, they… they matched us?”
At the horror and shock in Bucky’s face, Tony can’t help throwing his head back, waves of laughter overtaking him. What a complete fool he’s been. A fool.
“Yes, Bucky,” Tony wheezes, trying to wipe his eyes and catch his breath, “Apparently we’re so hopeless they have to match us and shove us together. I’m… so offended.”
Poor Bucky is still in disbelief. He pulls back fully to face Tony, and suddenly there’s nothing but serious focus on his stunning features. “What made them so sure we’d be good together?”
Tony just shrugs, “Hell, I don’t know. Both lonely?”
“We should show them,” Bucky continues, nodding absently, “Show them that we found each other and no we’re not soulmates and fuck it, I’m gonna ask you out anyways.”
“Oh?” Tony grins, watching Bucky catch up to his own words. He doesn’t give the bigger man a chance to take them back, and instead reaches up, stopping inches from cupping Bucky’s cheek, “Wanna test that theory?”
Bucky chuckles, lifting his own arm up to ward off Tony’s touch, “Don’t want it on my face, sweetheart.”
“Oh, so there is a chance, huh?” Tony teases, pretending to lunge and paw at Bucky’s face.
The other man laughs, fending Tony off easily, “Sure, baby, there’s always a chance. Wouldn’t you want it on your wrist, or neck or somethin’ discrete?”
“I always thought I’d want it on my shoulder. As if we were sitting next to each other somewhere, talking shit, and just leaned in really close. Probably symbolizes something about going through life side by side,” he shrugs, avoiding Bucky’s eyes.
“Hmm,” Bucky cocks his head to the side, and Tony can’t read the expression on his face. Curious, maybe? He shrugs out of his leather jacket, exposing long lengths of muscle and strength in his bare arms. Across his left shoulder, ink weaves and crosses into complicated patterns, tattoos that Tony aches to trace with his fingers. Or his tongue, he’s not picky.
And then Bucky is suddenly holding his hand out expectantly.
“I… what?” Tony looks at his hand, confused.
Bucky yanks on the front of his jacket, causing Tony to stumble forward a bit. Oh. Oh, he wants. Oh.
“Oh, yeah. Okay, uh… yeah,” he mumbles, quickly shimmying out of his own jacket, shivering at the touch of autumn wind on his bare skin, “But please hurry up, I’m freezing.”
“Alright, baby, no worries,” Bucky smiles down at him, putting his back on the wall again.
Tony leans back as well, both of them smiling like idiots and gradually scooching together, mere inches, centimeters, from touching. He’s cold, but something like anticipation and hope is warm in his stomach.
He hears Bucky exhale. “Do you wanna count to three?” his voice is rough, and he sounds nervous.
“No.” Tony decides quickly, throwing his body across the distance between them, pressing their shoulders together.
It’s like a gunshot.
Tony crumples to the ground with a whine as electricity races through his arm, lighting him up from the inside out. Oh god, he thinks absently, I’m having a heart attack. Except he’s much too young for that.
His knees hit the ground and he starts to sweat, hands shaking, as hot tears prick behind his eyes. There’s pressure around him and he realizes that Bucky is wrapping him up, enclosing him in now familiar arms, and whispering nonsense in his ear.
They’re both on the ground. It’s still terribly cold, but all Tony can feel is the dual heartbeat in his chest, pounding together in a soul-centered dance. His hand reaches up and rests against Bucky’s heart. This man… this man is his home now.
Their eyes meet, and a flurry of nervous excitement flutters through his stomach. Butterflies. Bucky looks exactly how Tony feels— awestruck and devastated. Tony looks down and sees the glowing, golden scars already stretching over Bucky’s shoulder, beautiful and dynamic and so so perfect.
His.
“Tony,” the name is whispered like a prayer, and Bucky lifts a hand to cup his cheek tenderly, “I was… I didn’t… I had no idea.”
“Me either,” Tony grips tighter, lost already in piercing gray eyes. The chemical reaction is slowly fading, draining from his body, but every time he nuzzles closer, presses their skin together, pleasure sparks between them again. A positive feedback loop that keeps them in constant contact.
“N-need to get inside,” Bucky’s teeth are chattering, and Tony realizes he’s shivering as well. Pretty violently, actually.
“Here,” Tony wiggles back into his jacket, pulling out his phone while Bucky puts his coat on as well, “I’ll s-see if we can g-get out of here.”
They join hands and head back inside, searching for red hair in the crowd. “There!” Tony points, dragging Bucky along until they’re stumbling into Pepper and Natasha, both women exchanging their carefree smiles for suspicion in a matter of seconds.
“James?”
Natasha’s suspicion is stretching into a satisfied smirk, and Pepper looks at her in shock, “You know this guy?”
“We’re… close,” Bucky cuts in, already pulling Tony closer in response. He looks down into Tony’s eyes in confusion, “You know Nat?”
“Pepper is my best friend. Of course I know Nat, I was the first to know when they bonded.”
Both women are laughing, and Bucky just shakes his head, “No, sweetheart. That was me. I was the one who introduced them.”
Tony turns on them, betrayed, “Pep! How could you?”
Instead of responding, she just drops her keys into his hand, curling his fingers around the slightly warm metal. “Go on, Tony. We can talk about this later.”
A firm arm slips around his waist, and he’s melting back into Bucky’s hold with little protest. He’s sure Bucky says something dismissive as they turn to walk back to the car, but all Tony can hear is the harmonious giggles of both women, satisfied in their love and matchmaking.
Once they’re outside, Tony slips the keys into Bucky’s hand and points in the direction they came, letting his soulmate lead the way. “You didn’t drive here?” he murmurs, eyes falling closed as they walk together to the car.
“Nope,” Bucky squeezes him tighter, “Nat was my ride.”
“Oh.” Of course she was. Looks like this party really was a set up.
It’s a relatively short walk back to the car, even considering how cold they are, how painful his feet feel in his heels. As they step down from the curb, reaching to unlock the doors, Bucky suddenly turns, backing Tony into the side of the car and bracketing him in.
Tony groans and lets his head fall back, pressed into the car door. Bucky leans forward, their breath mingling hot and steamy in the fall air, as Tony tips his head up— expectant.
“Can I…” Bucky starts, tilting his head to the side with a nervous smile.
“Please,” he’s not above begging, not when Bucky’s soft, red lips are moments away, not when bonding chemicals are still racing between them. And Bucky, bless him, doesn’t hesitate.
He swoops in, mouth soft and urgent against Tony’s. His arms drop to wrap around Tony’s waist, and Tony can’t help carding his fingers through Bucky’s hair— just long enough that he can grab a generous handful, scratching gently until he’s drawing sweet groans from Bucky’s lips.
They kiss for another minute, content to explore and savor the completeness of the moment. “So sweet for me,” Bucky hums, nibbling at Tony’s lower lip until he opens up, letting Bucky in further.
“All yours,” Tony gasps, submitting to the waves of affection and praise from his newfound soulmate, enjoying the feedback he’s getting from Bucky as well— joyful and content, echoing between them.
