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It’s odd, Steve thinks, odd how Tony’s tools gradually trickle down from his sky high lab and invade the rest of the tower.
He should’ve known.
First is the drill bit he nearly trips over when he enters the gym. He brushes it off as Tony doing repairs on the well-worn equipment and even has a fleeting moment wherein he questions whether using one of the treadmills could result in him being catapulted into space. After a thorough inspection, everything seems to be in order (read: no catapulting treadmills) and Steve is still on the same planet when he finishes his workout.
(Though it isn’t until much later that he realizes the bit was much too small to be of use on any fastener in the room, treadmill or otherwise, and he begins to feel uneasy.)
A few days later, when he enters the kitchen to blend his morning protein shake, he finds Darcy teaching Thor how to play checkers. Their board is actually a grid drawn on one of the chalkboards Darcy usually totes around and Steve can only imagine what diagram—and whether it was Dr. Selvig’s or Dr. Foster’s—the young woman deemed less important than schooling an otherworldly deity in a proper triple jump. He doesn’t have the energy to ask—barely awake to begin with after Bucky’d talked him into marathoning Pirates of the Caribbean in anticipation for seeing the newest installment this weekend—and honestly, he’s just appreciative someone finally decided to liberate the mysterious pile of nuts and bolts from his favorite blender so they didn’t equally as mysteriously end up in Tony’s favorite box of cereal. Like their board, Steve thinks their pieces also look kind of strange, but doesn’t speak to it, only whispers an “Excuse me” when he needs to turn on the blender, then leaves them and their makeshift game be and heads to the gym to see if he can catch what’s left of Sam’s archery practice with Clint.
(And it isn’t until much later that he realizes their pieces were the nuts and bolts.)
He’s exhausted, completely battle-worn, can’t even remember going to the Korean barbeque joint much less eating there, though his stomach is pleasantly full. Similarly, he also can’t remember returning to the tower, yet he’s melted into his sofa with a dozing Bucky’s head on his lap. Steve’s as close to sleep as one can be without actually being asleep when “The Star-Spangled Man with a Plan” jerks him back to his living room. It sounds muffled, coming from underneath him and he figures he must’ve knocked it off the armrest in his prior half-conscious state. He leans forward, keeping a firm grip on Bucky’s shoulder so he doesn’t roll off, and reaches underneath the sofa, feeling around until his fingers make contact with something hard and rectangular. The song has stopped by the time Steve get’s it in his hand so he just stares at it and maybe even asks “Hello?” to no one in particular. But before he can even think to call back, he lets himself slip into dreamland.
(The next morning, his phone rings again, still from under the sofa, and it is only then that Steve realizes he had tried to answer the detached battery of a power drill the night before. And perhaps he should be even a little ashamed that it’s not the first time he wakes Bucky with a profanity-laden outburst.)
And, seriously, don’t even get him started on finding a pair of pliers in the microwave because leave it to Tony Stark to create a safety hazard in his own damn tower. But he digresses. But safety hazard much?
(Which is why it’s entirely not Steve’s fault when they are returned to their owner in pieces.)
Admittedly, he’s thrown off when he passes Natasha in the hall and she’s carrying a wrench longer than her arm. He throws out a joke about Tony leaving his tools around like a child with their toys, surprised when Natasha is bemused. She explains that Tony didn’t leave it somewhere, that she actually borrowed it herself—without permission, but neither mentions that fact—to tighten one of the leaky pipes under her sink.
(But it isn’t until a short time later that he realizes no regular sink pipe—not even a not-so-regular one only a billionaire could afford—could possibly require a wrench that large and he becomes more uneasy than ever.)
Then there’re the hex keys—yes, more than one, twelve to be exact, who the hell needs that many hex keys?—in his shaving kit.
(And that he can’t explain.)
Two weeks of peace—alien-less and tool-less—pass and Steve has all but forgotten.
Natasha, Sam and Wanda are already seated when Steve enters the kitchen. It’s Clint’s morning to cook and Steve spots him shoulder-deep into the fridge, presumably looking for fruit to top his pancakes.
“What can I do ya for, Cap?” Clint asks when he closes the fridge, brandishing several plastic produce containers. There’s already a tower of pancakes nearly toppling off the counter.
“Blueberry, thanks,” Steve says, taking the empty chair on Natasha’s left. There’s already coffee waiting for him, in his favorite mug no less, a touristy gift shop purchase that was Bucky’s first gift to him after they reunited.
“And Barnes and Wilson?”
“Chocolate for both,” Steve responds, tracing the wing of the bald eagle on his mug. He thinks of Bucky and Sam—especially Bucky—on their weekly outing assisting homeless veterans in the city, and thinks about just how much progress Bucky has made in the past year. “Extra in Bucky’s.”
“Of course,” Natasha remarks knowingly as she twists in her seat and throws her feet onto Steve’s lap in one fluid motion. She raises an eyebrow challengingly when he gestures to her mismatched Avengers socks, one Black Widow and one Hawkeye, as if daring him to respond. He shrugs, playfully pinching Sock Clint’s groin which gets him a most definitely deserved heel to his own crotch. “I’m the only one around here allowed to grope the Barton family jewels, Captain.” She turns her head and looks pointedly at the twins though Steve knows she’s just messing with them, too.
“No groping here!” Pietro winks and raises his hands in mock surrender. He lowers his arms and returns one of them to its place across Wanda’s shoulders, whom Steve isn’t surprised didn’t respond or even look up from her latest telekinetic endeavor, spelling words with children’s alphabet blocks.
Although, he does wonder where one would come upon a word like dysphemism…
His bet is on Vision.
“A dozen blueberry hotcakes for the good captain!” Clint announces before unceremoniously sliding the plate—though platter is probably more accurate—in front of Steve. “And a lot less for everyone else!”
He’s right, Steve thinks, scanning the table. Clint doesn’t have any at the moment but Steve’s certain he ate at least three while he was cooking and he’ll probably grab another before heading off to train. Natasha also has blueberry, but only two and they look a tad smaller than his. Wanda also has two though hers are strawberry and banana. And Pietro, well, Pietro’s got five and…
“That’s…a lotta kiwi,” Steve blurts out and even Wanda glances up this time to give him a small smile.
“A whole one for each hotcake!” Clint supplies. “And also, like you should be talkin’, Cap, what with sittin’ in front of, like, a ton of blueberries.”
“Yeah, but…that’s kiwi,” he says bemusedly, scratching his head. “Kiwi.”
“I know.” Pietro grins and takes a bite. He swallows with an exaggerated moan. “And they’re delicious.” He looks at Clint. “Thank you.”
“Oh, no, thank you.” Clint nudges Natasha’s shoulder when she rolls her eyes. “It’s just nice to have another adventurous eater on the team.”
“Maybe we’d all be more open to trying some of your creations if you were more upfront about the ingredients before trying to shove them down our throats,” Natasha explains as she forks a blueberry. “So help me I’ll shove a Bite up your ass if you ever try to pass off another weird fish as chicken again.”
“Well—”
“I love seafood!” Pietro exclaims, already half-finished with his breakfast. “And chicken!”
“And I’m the weird one?” Wanda tilts her head to the side and waves her hands to rearrange the blocks.
Clint speaks and it’s probably something witty and definitely something that merits Natasha currently holding him at butter knifepoint, but it’s still early and Steve hasn’t yet had enough caffeine and, honestly, he’s still stuck on how dysphemism became larrikin.
By the time Steve finishes his food, Natasha and the twins have disappeared, and Clint has moved to digest in front of the TV. He packs up Bucky and Sam’s pancakes so they can eat when they arrive, and he’s nearly to the elevators when the archer calls out for him.
“Yeah?”
“You wouldn’t happen to know where Stark’s lurkin’ today, would ya? Gotta return somethin’ to him and would prefer not canvassing the entire compound…”
“I can do ya one better,” Steve assures, reaching out a hand, hoping the item is small enough to manage with his armful of takeout boxes, most of them Bucky’s. “He’s up on the roof, which is where I’m headed right now ‘cause Bucky and Sam’ll be landin’ soon.”
“Awesome! Great. Thanks, man.” Clint reaches into his pocket and Steve isn’t paying attention when he places whatever it is into his hand, momentarily distracted by the litter of kittens mewing on TV. “I owe ya.”
“You made me a dozen pancakes,” Steve says with a smile, walking backwards toward the elevators. “What more could I ask for?” Then he looks down at the object he’s currently holding. “Wait, this is a screwdriver.”
“Yeah, it is.” Now it’s Clint’s turn to be sidetracked by the newborn felines. “Found it attached to handle of the skillet. Hey, when did Pepper start letting Stark use duct tape again?”
Steve groans.
It’s when he walks into the living room one rainy afternoon that everything should click but doesn’t.
But it’s really not his fault he gets distracted.
Bucky’s on his beanbag chair, staring intently at the television. His lower half is wrapped in a blanket patterned with Steve’s shield and Steve can see bunny slippers peeking out from the bottom. He’s got his right arm wrapped around Bucky Bear and a bowl of popcorn large enough to feed an army—also known as a single Super Soldier—in his lap.
Most surprising, however, is that his left arm is in Tony’s lap.
Tony Stark with Bucky’s metal arm in his lap, yes, Steve has to rub his eyes and pinch his skin to check if this scene is real.
It is.
Tony Stark curled up next to Bucky on his beanbag with Bucky’s arm in his lap and Bucky on his beanbag willingly letting Tony Stark curl up next to him with his arm in his lap.
Huh.
“Hey, Buck…” Steve whispers cautiously, not wanting to disrupt the movie—Cars 2, again—or catch his boyfriend off-guard.
“Stevie, come cuddle with me!” Bucky responds and Steve walks toward him almost as if in a trance, like he could honestly deny Bucky anything.
What snaps him out of it is the near seamless series of movements that transfers the popcorn bowl from Bucky’s lap to Stark’s lap to the coffee table and then Bucky Bear from Bucky’s arm to Bucky’s lap, all apparently so Bucky’s got a free arm to pull a still-shocked Steve onto the beanbag next to him.
Well, really more like on top of him.
It’s not like they haven’t done it before, it’s not like the beanbag isn’t big enough—which Steve made certain of when he custom ordered it—but Tony…
“Don’t sweat, Cap,” Tony assures as he tightens a bolt near Bucky’s elbow before snapping a plate on over it. “I’m almost finished. I’ll be out of your hair before you know it.” Louder he says, “Has anyone seen a really tiny wrench?”
“Think I’m sittin’ on it actually,” Clint replies and Steve just realizes Clint and Natasha are curled up together on the loveseat. Steve hears the rustling of leather and sees something small and metallic bounce across the carpet and land near Tony’s leg.
“Thanks, princess.” Tony moves to work on Bucky’s wrist. “Find any peas?”
“No, but I think I feel another wrench.”
“Great! I’m gonna need that one for his shoulder.”
Bucky groans and pulls Steve closer to him. Steve snorts when Tony has to hold onto Bucky’s arm with both hands to keep it steady. “You know, Stark, you said you were ‘almost finished’ like an hour ago. And the hour before that, too.”
“Here.” Tony drops the wrench and reaches into his pocket. “Will this calm you down? You got loverboy now, too, so…”
And without warning, he yanks the plastic wrapper off the lollipop and jams it into Bucky’s mouth.
“Hey, watch it!” Steve snaps, reaching up to make sure Tony didn’t choke his boyfriend since Bucky’s got no free hands.
“‘s fine,” Bucky mumbles around the candy so Steve lowers his hand and settles his arm around Bucky’s waist.
“Still doesn’t make it right…” Steve mutters, kissing the corner of Bucky’s mouth soothingly and smiling when Bucky snorts around the stick and wiggles his eyebrows.
“Just don’t turn this into a threesome and we’re good.”
“As if,” Natasha comments.
Steve’s sentiments exactly, thank you.
“Trust us, Stark, Pepper’s the only in this tower—on this planet—that wants to sleep with you,” Clint says. “And God bless her.”
“And what a lovely gal she is,” Steve chimes in with a smirk. “Takin’ one for the team.”
“Can it, Captain Condescension, or I’ll draw this out until they release Cars 3.”
Bucky perks up so Steve asks, “They really makin’ a third one?”
“Yes,” Natasha answers. “No release date yet, though.”
“Shit.” Steve feels Tony reach under the beanbag. “Dropped it again. Might have to put some bigger bolts on you, Barnes, if I’m always going to keep losing my small tools.”
Bucky yelps around the lollipop and Steve frowns. “Get your hands off his ass, Stark.”
“Just like Barton, apparently. Sorry to disappoint but you’re not my type, Sarge. Found it!”
“That how pliers ended up in the microwave?” Steve can’t help but question when just thinking about it still irks him. “Drop them, too?”
“So that’s how the cup of coffee got in my tool bag,” Tony says like it’s obvious. “Didn’t have to snap them in two, though, Cap.”
“You left them in a microwave.”
“Fine, I’ll put them in the toaster next time!”
“Sounds like Pepper will have to throw another fire hazard seminar.” Natasha says warningly.
Tony scoffs and turns to Steve. “Can’t help it when the only free time I have to fix your boy’s arm is while he’s munching on his Wheaties…”
Steve decides it’s half-past time to mess with Tony some more so he takes his boyfriend’s chin in his hand, turns Bucky’s face and sticks his tongue into his favorite mouth alongside the candy. (Mm, cherry.) He’s vaguely aware that Clint and Natasha have started kissing behind them, immediately clued in on Steve’s plot.
He’ll thank them later.
“Or while nearly getting dragged into orgies while watching anthromorphic car animations.” Steve feels a wrench brush the side of his head but he doesn’t stop, hand dipping lower to tease the waistband of Bucky’s sweats and making sure the blanket is pulled down enough so Tony’s got a good view.
Or bad, depending on the point of view, Steve thinks with a grin.
“Children! This movie is for children! You can’t have sex while watching a movie for children!”
Steve has to pull the lollipop out of Bucky’s mouth because he’s laughing so hard.
Then he just kisses him some more.
“I should’ve known,” Steve says, tracing Bucky’s spine with his fingertips in the afterglow. “All those repairs and not once did Nat’s locator place you in Stark’s lab.”
“You should’ve. Don’t even know what the inside of that hellhole looks like. Wait.” Bucky grabs Steve’s chin, forcing their eyes to meet. “Romanoff tracks me? Inside the tower? What the hell?”
Steve sighs, head sinking further into his pillow. “First of all, you know about the locator. And you’re the one who chooses to wear it on your necklace every day. Second—”
“First of all,” Bucky echoes, pinching Steve’s nose. “I was told the only people who would have access to my location would be you and Fury. And only when I’m not inside the tower. Punk.”
“Jerk.” Steve presses their foreheads together. “In our—Fury’s and my own—defense, Nat hacked it while it was still sittin’ on Fury’s desk. You out of everyone should know to just let her do her thing. In fact, I’m pretty sure she’s trackin’ the rest of us, too, ‘specially inside the tower.”
“I still think I’m gonna replace her deodorant with cream cheese.”
“You spend too much time watchin’ pranks on YouTube.” Steve snorts. “And you very well know you’ll end up with an arm covered in Taser Disks.”
“It’d take Stark a week just to track down all the tools to fix that kinda damage.”
“Everything he needs is probably in the fridge.”
And Steve does never find out what Natasha was doing with that pipe wrench.
It’s not like he really wants to know anyway.