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Tony absently hitched his backpack a little higher on his shoulder, staring sightlessly at the note that had been left on the hall table. Heavy, creamy paper with a sharp crease where it had been folded in half; thick enough that the elegant loops and swirls of his mother’s handwriting didn’t bleed through to the other side of the sheet.
Maria had always despaired of Tony’s reliance on modern communication methods. His handwriting was atrocious, and how did he expect to improve it if he only wrote emails and (a delicate shudder) text messages?
If she’d been willing to use a text, however, Tony might not be standing in the dim hallway of a silent and deserted house, because he might have found out before leaving Cambridge that his parents were going on a cruise instead of staying home for the holiday. And then he might have been able to make alternate plans.
Maybe.
Briefly, he wondered if this was his punishment for staying on to get his second doctorate instead of coming back home to work for Howard. Or possibly for deciding to get his doctorates in engineering and computer science rather than business.
Tony put both hands on the hall table and let his head drop to hang between his shoulders. He’d come home because even the disdain and neglect of his parents was better than being alone. But he hadn’t escaped it after all.
For one horrifying moment his throat closed and his eyes burned and he almost, almost just let the tears fall -- who would see them, after all? -- but habit made him choke it back. Stark men are made of iron, his father thundered in his memories.
The quiet click of the exterior lights cutting on echoed through the front hall, triggered by the encroaching twilight outside. The sound was too loud in the still air, like someone dropping a stack of books in the school library, prompting a dozen or more heads to turn and see who had just made a fool of themselves.
Tony squeezed his eyes shut and then let his backpack slide to the floor to lean against his duffel of clothes.
He had to get out. He couldn’t stand that echoing silence any longer.
His wallet was still in his pocket; he’d just run out and get something to eat, and maybe once he had some food in his stomach, he’d be able to come up with something like a plan.
He looked down at the keys in his hand, the ring still looped around his index finger.
He didn’t want to drive. He’d already driven down from Cambridge, after all. That was more than enough driving for one day. He dropped the keyring on the hall table next to his mother’s note.
He could take the subway. It would be less lonely exhausting.
Bucky couldn’t stop his leg from bouncing restlessly as the subway rumbled and juddered along the tracks. The walls outside went past the windows in a blur of graffiti and bursts of light that were gone before Bucky could blink. It was late; it would probably be close to midnight by the time the train pulled into his stop, and his roommates would be asleep. Bucky tried not to think of it as a reprieve. Grateful as he was to Steve and Sam for letting him use their spare room so he wouldn’t have to live with his Ma’s smothering sympathy while he tried to get back on his feet, after a day of grueling PT/OT and then not one but two job interviews, he didn’t really want to deal with his friends, either.
The door to the car slid open and a man slipped through. He looked younger than Bucky, maybe around twenty-five, the same age as Bucky’s youngest sibling. He had tousled dark hair and smudges under his whiskey-brown eyes that only served to make them glow in the stuttering fluorescent lights. His beard had been groomed into sharp points and his jeans were practically painted on. Nice. He moved steadily despite the swaying of the car, twisting past the other riders with practiced ease.
He paused just by Bucky and leaned closer, and for a shocking second, Bucky wondered if this beautiful young man was about to come on to him. But then he leaned past Bucky and taped a sheet of paper to the wall just over Bucky’s head. “Pardon,” he muttered as he straightened again.
Bucky blinked at him, then twisted to look up at the paper.
Tired of being the disappointment at your family gatherings? Bring me (24M) as a date and show them how much worse it could be! I’ll be happy to annoy your uptight uncle about politics, shock your frigid aunt’s religious sensibilities, offend your grandparents by maligning the origins of the holiday, and horrify your parents with my raw sexuality. Two hours with me and they’ll be deliriously grateful when you “dump” me at the end of the night and stop nagging you about your lackluster grades or inability to hold down a job. All I ask in return is to share a holiday meal with you so I’m not stuck having it alone. Taking on any (and all!) genders, races, and creeds, but if you want behavior that might get me arrested, you’re on the hook for bail. You call me Tony, and I’ll call you anything you want.
There was a QR code at the bottom of the page.
Bucky glanced up, but the man -- Tony? -- had already moved on, was twisting his way toward the door opposite the one he’d come in through, stack of flyers tucked against his side.
Curious, Bucky lifted his phone and scanned the code. A phone number popped up on his screen, and Bucky thumbed the OK button to dial it.
Just as he was reaching for the door latch, Tony paused. He fished his phone out of his pocket and looked at the screen, and then turned to scan the car.
Bucky waited calmly until that whiskey gaze got to him, then held it as he lifted his phone to his ear.
The phone rang twice more before Tony answered. “I have to admit, I wasn’t actually expecting anyone to call,” he said, and his voice was a touch deeper than Bucky had expected, resonant and smooth. The corner of his lip quirked up, his gaze still locked with Bucky’s. “How much of a disaster do you need?”
“What’s your position on not being a disaster at all?” Bucky wondered. “Just... pretend to be my boyfriend while I come out to my family over Christmas Eve dinner?”
“That does not sound un-disastrous,” Tony pointed out, “but I could be talked into being charming as I walk into family drama I pretend I wasn’t expecting.” His eyes flicked down, then back up before Bucky could get tense about whether he’d focus in on Bucky’s pinned-up sleeve. “What’s your name, boyfriend?” He started weaving back through the car.
“Officially, it’s James, but all my friends call me Bucky.”
Tony came to a stop right in front of Bucky, phone still held at his ear and eyes still fixed on Bucky’s face. “Good to meet you, Bucky,” he said, and it came out just slightly breathy, enough to curl around Bucky’s neck despite the weird echo of it live and through the phone. Tony hung up the phone and shoved it back into his pocket. “Where are you headed right now?”
“Home.”
“You live with your family?”
“Nah, I split a place with some friends.” That was less pathetic than explaining that he was having trouble reintegrating into civilian life.
Tony smiled faintly. “So if your folks flip out when they find out you’re queer, you’ve at least got somewhere to go.”
Bucky shrugged. “I guess. I don’t think they’ll flip out, exactly. They support gay rights and stuff. I just...”
“It’s a little nerve wracking anyway,” Tony supplied, and Bucky nodded. “Okay,” Tony said, nodding decisively. “We can do that. And if they actually do disapprove, I can drop back on the disaster plan and take the heat off you.”
“Yeah,” Bucky agreed. “Sounds like a plan.”
“Well, it’s the start of one, anyway,” said Tony. The train slowed down, and Tony ducked to check the station. “Yeah, come on. Let’s go grab a burger or something and get our story straight.”
Tony glanced up at the street sign to confirm what he already knew. He pulled the phone out of his pocket as he crossed the street and fired off a text to Bucky: 2 blocks out.
He’d hadn’t quite gotten to the end of the first block when he spotted Bucky, striding toward him purposefully. Tony had noticed the previous evening how attractive Bucky was, but that “move or be moved” take-no-prisoners stride added a whole extra dimension to it. Yum.
“Tony!” Bucky waved and sped up a little, jogging the last few steps to catch up just as Tony had crossed the street to the second block. He glanced down at the gift bag Tony had slung over his arm and the modest bouquet of flowers tucked into it between the bottles of wine. “Aw, snugglebunny, you didn’t have to bring me anything.”
Tony laughed and elbowed Bucky. “It’s for your mom, dumbass.”
“What, really?”
“Yes?” Tony glanced up at Bucky as they walked. “You wanted me to be polite and charming. Bringing a gift for a hostess who’s worked me into the table at the last minute is polite.”
Bucky grinned. “Little above and beyond for my family,” he said. “She’s gonna end up likin’ you more than me and then what am I supposed to do?”
“You could cultivate some manners of your own,” Tony teased.
“Oh, well, if you’re after manners...” Bucky stopped dead on the sidewalk -- at least foot traffic was light -- and executed what was apparently supposed to represent an overblown, florid bow but mostly just looked like he was trying to fight off a swarm of wasps while dealing with a case of appendicitis. “Would you do me the honor of accompanying me to dinner?” He offered his arm as he straightened.
Tony took it, laughing. “Charmed, I’m sure.”
The apartment building was at the end of the second block. Bucky punched a code into the main entrance and then pulled the door open for Tony.
“So what have you told them?” Tony asked as he followed Bucky to the elevators on the far side of the lobby.
“Uh, that we’ve only been dating for a few weeks, so that’ll cover us for gaps and fumbles. Told Ma you were suddenly alone for the holidays and I didn’t even get to ask if you could come for dinner before she was insisting on it.” Bucky smiled fondly.
“Very sweet,” Tony agreed. “Did you tell her I’m a man, or are you coming out the moment I walk through the door?”
Bucky’s lip disappeared behind his teeth as he watched the floor indicator counting them up. “I... may have been playing the pronoun game,” he admitted. “She might have picked up on it, but she didn’t say anything if she did.”
And then the elevator was opening and it was too late to ask any more questions. Bucky paused, hand on the door to the apartment. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, eyes closed.
Tony barely knew Bucky, but he knew that coming out could be terrifying. Tony put a hand on Bucky’s forearm. When Bucky looked at him, startled, Tony smiled. “I’ve got your back,” he promised.
The door opened onto a busy, bustling room, almost too much for Tony to take in. A massive Christmas tree dominated one corner of the room, the bottom of it hidden by a mound of wrapped packages in a riot of colors. A television on one wall showed a football game in progress, the sound muted. A long buffet table lined the far wall, draped in festive colors and covered with gently-steaming dishes -- apparently they were right on time.
There was a gaggle of children on the sofa ranging in age from pump-cheeked cherub to gangly preadolescent, their focuses locked on various electronic devices. Two chairs and a loveseat were occupied by a quartet of adults somewhere between Tony and Bucky in age, obviously interrupted mid-discussion by Tony’s and Bucky’s arrival. As Tony finished scanning the room, an older woman -- clearly Bucky’s mother -- appeared in an interior doorway, a casserole dish held in oven-mitted hands. She spotted them immediately and hurriedly set the dish down on the buffet before rushing over to them.
“Come on, don’t lurk in the door,” she chided. “Introduce everyone to your friend, Jimmy!”
Bucky coughed and took a couple of steps into the room, taking Tony’s hand to tug him along. “Uh, everyone, this is Tony. My, um. Boyfriend.”
Three of the adults looked shocked; the fourth lit up with a smug grin. One of the younger kids actually looked up from her game, mouth hanging open. “Uncle Bucky’s gay?”
Bucky flinched a little at that, and Tony squeezed Bucky’s hand in support. The kid didn’t look upset, though, just surprised.
Bucky’s mother blinked a couple of times, then came the rest of the way to greet them. “It’s lovely to meet you, Tony,” she said smoothly.
No one seemed to be on the verge of launching into a rant or a sermon, so Tony let go of Bucky to pull the flowers from the gift bag. He offered both the flowers and the bag to Bucky’s mom. “Mrs. Barnes, thank you for letting me intrude on your holiday.”
She looked extremely pleased as she took the flowers and peered into the bag at the bottles of wine. “How sweet! But of course you’re not intruding. We wouldn’t let a friend go through the holidays alone, how dreadful! I’m just going to put these in some water and get a corkscrew, be right back!”
As she disappeared back through the far door, Bucky recaptured Tony’s hand and turned to face the rest of the room. “Right, well, that was Ma, obviously. This bunch here--” He waved at the cluster of adults. “--are my sister, Becca, and her husband Richard on the loveseat, my other sister, Rachel, and the baby, Andrew. The kids are James, Alison, David, and Kelly. Alison and Davy are Becca’s; the bookends belong to Rachel.”
“There will be a test,” Andrew announced cheerfully.
“There will not,” Bucky asserted, glaring at his brother.
Tony laughed, unconcerned. “It’s nice to meet you all.” He eyed Becca, the one who’d smirked rather than looking surprised. “How long have you suspected?” Tony asked her.
“What?” Bucky said.
“At least ten years,” Becca said.
“What?” Bucky repeated.
Becca rolled her eyes. “Please. You’re not that subtle, and I’m your sister.”
“I’m his sister, too!” Rachel protested. “I didn’t know!”
Becca shrugged. “You’re younger, though. By the time you were old enough to think about dating, Buck had been deployed. I, on the other hand, had to watch him trying to be subtle while he was eyeing up guys at the mall.” She turned back to Bucky. “You were not subtle,” she informed him.
Bucky put his hand over his face, an adorable little blush creeping up out of his shirt collar. “Oh, god.”
“Chin up,” Tony said with a cheery chuckle, “at least you managed to fool the others.” He slipped an arm around Bucky’s waist. Bucky startled slightly, but then leaned into it.
“All that time I spent worrying about coming out,” Bucky muttered, “and it turns out I should’a just let Becca gossip a little more.”
Mrs. Barnes came back into the room with one of the bottles of wine and a trayful of wine glasses. Tony nudged Bucky lightly. “Relax, have a glass of wine,” he suggested. “It’s one of my favorites.”
Bucky couldn’t believe he’d been nervous about coming out to his family. After the initial shock had worn off, no one had been anything but accepting of Bucky and warmly welcoming to Tony. Of course, part of that might have been because of Tony.
Tony was everything Bucky could have asked for in a partner. He was polite without being stuffy, charming without being sleazy, and funny without trying to hog the spotlight. He listened to Andrew and Rachel’s work stories and asked relevant, insightful questions. He traded stupid jokes with Bucky’s nieces and nephews and listened to their video game exploits and middle school drama as if utterly fascinated.
He didn’t assume that a missing arm meant Bucky was helpless, but when Bucky realized that the big serving platter was too big to squeeze between their plates, “Could you--” had barely passed Bucky’s lips before Tony was reaching to steady it. And then when Tony passed the platter to Becca, on his other side, he held it for her, as well. It was just a big unwieldy thing that needed two people to manage. Nothing to do with Bucky’s lack of an arm.
He played the role of Bucky’s boyfriend to a tee, teasing but then swooping in to land a light kiss on Bucky’s cheek; embellishing the story they’d made up about their first meeting and date with easy grace; and watching Bucky with a shy, besotted smile.
In a word, Tony was perfect. And sexy as hell. And Bucky... might have been developing a bit of a crush. Maybe more than a bit. Which was fine for now -- it helped sell the fib if he got caught staring at Tony dazedly. But it might be something of a problem later, when they’d have to part ways, and Bucky was going to have to tell his family that he’d let this amazing man slip through his fingers.
He shook off the thought and took another swallow of wine.
The few bottles Tony had brought were long since emptied; they’d moved on now to the wine that Becca and Richard had contributed.
Bucky hadn’t done much drinking since the accident, at first because it had been forbidden to mix alcohol with his pain medication, and then because the sense of losing control made him nervous and jittery. But he wasn’t feeling any anxiety tonight. Maybe, he thought, there was a chance that he would come through it all.
Maybe, he thought, watching Tony over the rim of his glass, he could convince Tony to keep his number and see if anything real might be possible.
It wasn’t very likely. Tony was too gorgeous, too smart, too wonderful to drag himself down for long with someone like Bucky.
But with the warmth of the wine in his veins, the gap between not likely and possible seemed not insurmountable.
As if he could feel Bucky’s gaze on him, Tony looked up from where he was letting Alison explain her game to him in exhaustive detail. His eyes met Bucky’s, and he smiled, warm and easy, as if just seeing Bucky was something that made him happy.
Bucky grinned back, and lifted his glass to Tony in silent toast.
A few minutes later, Tony managed to extract himself and made his way toward Bucky. Bucky hadn’t known him long enough to be sure, but Tony was moving in a way that suggested he was trying not to let anyone realize how tipsy he actually was. “You seem more relaxed now,” Tony observed, leaning against the arm of Bucky’s chair.
“Yeah. It’s. I was nervous, but it’s good to have it all out in the open,” Bucky said.
“Good.” Tony plucked Bucky’s glass from his hand and finished it off. “Do you think--”
“Oh, look at the time!” Rachel exclaimed. “James, Kelly, time for both of you to go up and get ready for bed!”
“Yes!” Becca agreed. “Alison, Davy, you too.”
“But it’s only 9:30!” James protested. “You said I could stay up late over break!”
“I did, but it would be rude to keep your grandma up any later. You can be quiet on your phone until you’re ready to sleep,” Rachel said firmly.
“Guess that’s our cue, too,” Tony told Bucky. He stood up and offered Bucky a hand up.
He was tipsy enough to misjudge how hard he needed to pull to help Bucky out of the chair, and overcompensated. Bucky was tipsy enough not to be able to correct in time, and only barely quick enough to catch Tony and redirect their fall so they ended up falling onto the couch cushion that Becca had just vacated, half-tangled together.
“Oh my goodness, how much wine have you had?” Ma said, laughing. “Maybe you two should stay the night! You don’t need to be trying to navigate when you can barely stand up!”
“We’ll be fine,” Bucky said. “It’s only a couple of blocks down to Stevie’s.” He snared Tony’s jacket off the rack and handed it over before reaching for his own.
“Are you sure you want to go out in that?” Richard asked, pulling back the curtains from the living room window. The other side of the glass was a blur of falling snow.
“Shit,” Bucky muttered, and made his way over to the window to peer out. He could only just make out the street light on the near corner, and it had heaped up fast enough and thick enough that there was almost no way to distinguish between the sidewalk and the street. And with the holiday, the plows would be running short-handed and behind-schedule.
“That’s it,” Ma said firmly. “You’re staying. I’ll just grab a few extra blankets and pillows from the hall closet.”
“Actually,” Andrew said, standing and stretching, “let me grab my stuff and you guys can take the guest room.”
“We can’t put you out of your bed,” Tony protested, eyes wide and somewhat wild.
“You’re not putting me out,” Andrew assured him. “I’ll be fine on the couch for one night, but it’s not going to fit both of you. I’d feel bad lying in bed and knowing that one of you was having to sleep on the floor.”
Tony glanced down at the floor as if only just noticing it was there. “I’ve had worse.” Bucky found that inexplicably funny, even though the idea of sharing a bed with Tony was doing something to his innards.
“That’s a lovely idea, Andrew,” Ma said, coming back with her arms full of pillows and blankets. She handed them off to Andrew. “Very kind of you.”
She was standing between Bucky and the door, and he didn’t think that was a coincidence. And it wasn’t like he really wanted to see Tony on his way, either. “Yeah, okay,” he conceded. “We did have a lot to drink. Probably for the best.”
“I... If you’re sure,” Tony said weakly, handing his jacket back to Bucky to be re-hung.
“Very certain,” Ma told him. “It wouldn’t do our Christmas any good at all if we learned that you’d been injured trying to make your way home, when you could perfectly well just stay the night. Besides, I’m making fresh cinnamon rolls for breakfast,” she coaxed. ”You don’t want to miss that.”
“Well, in that case, it seems I must bow to your wisdom,” Tony said. He attempted an actual bow, a ridiculous, showy thing with flourishes and hand gestures, and actually looked elegant about it, even if it was silly. But when he tried to straighten up again, he staggered and Bucky had to catch him again. “Point made,” conceded Tony.
The guest room wasn’t big. It was, in fact, tiny. The bed was queen-sized, which was significantly smaller than the king-sized bed Tony was used to. But it barely fit in the room as it was, no more than a foot and a half of floor space between it and the walls on either side, and if they opened the narrow closet door, it was only just going to miss hitting the foot of the bed.
“Wow, there’s barely room in here to change my mind,” Tony said after Andrew had squeezed past them with his duffel bag, shutting the door on his way out. Which was possibly rude, but he’d always let his mouth run away with him when he was nervous.
Bucky chuckled. “This used t’be Dad’s office,” he said. “Ma didn’t really do anything with it after he passed, until Becca had Alison and Ma realized that visits were suddenly more complicated than shuffling around the existing sleeping arrangements a bit.” He looked around the room. “I still don’t know how they got the bed in here.”
“They probably just built the frame in place,” Tony guessed. “But no idea about the mattress.”
Bucky hummed in what Tony assumed was agreement. He sat down on the side of the bed, somewhat heavily, and started taking off his shoes. “Sorry about this, anyway,” he added. “I didn’t realize it was going to snow that hard. I’ll do my best to avoid snuggling up to you in my sleep.”
Something shivered deep inside Tony’s torso at the thought of Bucky cuddling him. He dealt with his own shoes and socks to cover up whatever his face might be doing. “No worries,” he said, trying for casual. “I run cold at night, so a little extra heat is always welcome.” And if Bucky was the one being cuddly, then maybe Tony wouldn’t have to admit how his heart had leapt when Mrs. Barnes had suggested they stay the night, because it meant he could put off going back to the echoing emptiness of his parents’ house for a few more hours. Even if his stomach was still turning flip-flops a little over the intimacy of it.
The mattress, when Tony sat on the bed, was soft enough. Tony peeled off his hoodie and dropped it on the floor; the t-shirt he was wearing would be comfortable enough to sleep in.
The jeans he was wearing, on the other hand, would not. “Uh. Boxers okay? If I try to sleep in these jeans, it’s going to cut off all the circulation to my legs.”
“Oh, thank god,” Bucky said. “I didn’t want you to think I was trying to suggest something inappropriate, but these are my interview pants.”
“Right.” There was no reason for Tony’s heart to thud painfully in his chest. Even if they had been dating, they wouldn’t be getting up to any funny business here, in Bucky’s mother’s apartment, crammed to the gills with nosy family. Tony unzipped and shimmied out of his jeans as quickly as he could manage. He slid under the thick comforter and tried not to look too closely at Bucky.
He couldn’t miss the toned perfection of Bucky’s legs and ass, however, when Bucky went to the light switch by the door.
Not now, boner!
“Okay?”
“I’m good.”
The lights went out, and while Tony’s eyes were still adjusting to the suddenly-dim light, the bed dipped and then Bucky was sliding under the covers next to Tony.
“Oh, you’re warm,” Tony said. Bucky was like a furnace, putting out heat like a radiator to be trapped under the heavy blankets. Tony couldn’t help wriggling a little bit closer to soak up some of that warmth.
His hand landed on skin, and he pulled it back quickly. “Sorry!”
“Jesus, you’re like ice,” Bucky hissed. He rolled toward Tony and groped carefully until he found Tony’s hand again, then pulled it in to rest against Bucky’s chest.
“And you’re pulling me closer instead of banishing me to the far side of the bed?” Tony marveled.
“What kind of fake boyfriend would I be if I left you to shiver?” Bucky was quiet for a moment, and then said, “I really do appreciate you doing this for me. It was... so much easier, because of you.”
Tony hummed. “I think it would have been easy no matter what. The only hard part was taking that first leap off the cliff.”
“And you helped with that, a lot. But also, with the rest of it. My family... really likes you. It’s nice.”
“I’m very likable,” Tony said, a little flippantly. He’d done this for his own benefit, after all; it seemed wrong to accept gratitude for it.
“Yes, you are,” Bucky said, chuckling a little, his chest shaking under Tony’s slowly-warming hands.
Tony’s feet were still cold, but tangling their legs together was probably pushing the fake intimacy a little too far. They’d warm up eventually. They always did. And this was nice, just as it was. Warm and cozy and not remotely alone. “I like your family, too,” Tony said, a little more seriously. “I’ve had a good time.”
Bucky wriggled a little, scooting closer, close enough that Tony could feel the gentle puff of his breath. “I, uh. Had a good time. Too. I gotta ask... how much of that out there was... an act? I mean, I was watching, and I don’t think I caught you slipping at all. So was that really you, or are you just some kinda con-man?”
Tony laughed a little. “Nah, it was mostly me. I was turning up the charm a little, but you know, like you do when you’re meeting new people that you want to like you? Me, but polished up a bit.”
“Good, that’s... that’s good. ‘Cause I... you charmed me, too, I think. I could...” Bucky’s heart was thumping hard and fast under Tony’s hands. “I’d. I’d like to take you out, for real, maybe. If you’d want that.”
The butterflies in Tony’s stomach suddenly went into some kind of frenzy. But in a good way. “Yeah?” It came out a little breathless. “I, um. Yeah. Yes. I’d like that, I think.”
“Wow,” Bucky breathed. “Can I kiss you?”
“Please.”
They bumped noses and foreheads awkwardly, giggling, until they’d mapped out each other’s space. Bucky’s breath was warm and close and then their lips met and Tony couldn’t help the soft groan that climbed out of his throat. Bucky’s lips were soft and gentle and his tongue was deft as it slipped tentatively into the well of Tony’s mouth. Bucky tasted like cinnamon and ginger and mint and wine, and Tony surrendered to it.
Bucky pulled him closer, their bodies slowly melting into one another as Bucky mapped out every tender, sensitive spot in Tony’s mouth. “Oh Christ, you’re perfect,” Bucky moaned, and came back to test and taste along Tony’s jaw, under his ear, down his neck.
Tony arched, wrapping his leg around Bucky’s hip--
“Fuck!” Bucky jolted half-upright. “An’ I thought your hands were cold!”
Tony laughed, slightly hysterical, and let himself fall flat back onto the mattress as he pressed his hands to his face to try to muffle the sound.
Bucky chuckled too as he laid back down, snuggling deeper under the covers. “Come here, c’mere babydoll,” he urged, tugging Tony back against him, to lay against Bucky’s side and pillow his head on Bucky’s shoulder. “That’s right, just snuggle up and get yourself warm.”
It was probably for the best that they’d been interrupted, Tony thought, with Bucky’s family so close by, and he didn’t know how soundly they slept or how well sound carried through the walls here.
Tony wrapped his arm over Bucky’s middle and sighed happily as Bucky’s arm curled around his shoulders, holding him close. He tried not to press his feet directly against Bucky’s skin, but let them lay in the hollow of the mattress caused by Bucky’s legs, close enough to Bucky’s heat to feel like he was in front of a fire.
He sighed contentedly, and Bucky lifted his hand to stroke Tony’s hair. “There you go,” he murmured. “Don’t never gotta be cold or lonely now, not when I’ve got you.”