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Tony sat in the large, cavernous room. It hadn’t felt this big in… well ever. He was used to being alone in wide open spaces. He liked being alone.
Or he did.
Once.
Recently, that had been occurring less and less. Sure, he still mostly lived in the tower alone. But since Fury’s super secret boyband had been thrown together, since they’d gone their separate ways and found their way back together again, he’d grown accustomed to someone always being lurking around. Even if it was just Barton occasionally sneaking around in the vents, with Tony pretending he didn’t know the archer was there.
But it’d been… he wasn’t even sure how long it had been anymore.
The others had long since moved into the Avengers Compound. Not all of them lived there full-time. Various members commuted. Rogers and Wilson were based out of DC; Romanoff… who really knew with her, right? Thor had been off world since Sokovia; Bruce was who knows where; Rhodey, Vision, and Maximoff were the only ones who really lived there. Though now that Rhodey had a hang of his leg braces, he was spending just as much time on base since he’d been able to return to active duty. And Barton, of course, was back on the farm with his family having retired.
And Tony was here. In the tower. Alone like he’d always been. Like he used to be used to.
There were no hard feelings. The others had forgiven him for Ultron. They said they did. But he knew.
Rogers would look at him with distrust in his eyes. Ultron hadn’t been completely Tony’s fault. Even Maximoff insisted on that. She admitted to messing with his mind. Giving him the push to play with the sceptre. But it was still his idea. Still based on his coding. That was close enough. As for Maximoff, she said she’d forgiven him. That she realized her anger had been directed at the wrong person. Her belief that he was responsible for killing her parents was childish logic. And she was no longer a child. It wasn’t his fault. Not directly. But indirectly… he gets it.
He also knew about Rogers and Wilson’s little side mission of trying to locate the Winter Soldier. As in the guy Hydra had sent to kill Captain America. The guy who failed to kill Captain America. He may be a blithering, naïve idiot, but he wasn’t stupid. He’d had Jarvis keeping track of their search, and even conducting a search of his own to locate the wayward brainwashed POW.
Which was another thing: he was fully aware that the Winter Soldier, the Ghost that no intelligence agency believed existed, was in fact Sargeant James Buchanan Barnes. AKA Captain America’s best BFF bestie from before the last ice age.
Tony took a gulp of the amber liquid in his glass, barely acknowledging the burn in his throat. He swiped through the files lifted from the hidden drive Jarvis had managed to squirrel away on his servers. His eyes flit over the words before swiping to the next file. And the next. Until…
He tossed back the remainder of his drink and staggered to his feet, mind whirring. Before he realized what he was doing, he was in the Mark 46 armour (which hadn’t been fully tested yet) flying off to the destination listed in the file.
He knocked on the door maybe a little too hard, given his inebriated and armored state. Maybe the armor is too aggressive for this… It was in the process of retracting from around him when the door was yanked open to reveal a scowling James “Bucky” Barnes looking ready to punch whoever was on the other side of the door. He was just in time to catch Tony as the man lost his balance and fell out of the suit.
“You smell like plums,” Tony said, his face smooshed into the shirt that covered the man’s broad chest.
“You smell drunk.” The voice he could feel rumbling in said broad chest was low and scratchy. With disuse, Tony thought.
“Rude.”
The chest moved when the man huffed. “True,” the low scratchy voice countered. He should use it more, Tony thought. Would that make it less low or less scratchy? Or would it make it deeper. Like whiskey—wait…
"And here I was going to take you out for cheeseburgers." Tony braced himself as best he could against the warm, broad chest and attempted to regain his footing. He failed, face smooshing back into the plum-sweet warmth of the chest that had no business being that broad. Said chest sighed as a harder than normal (meaning metal) arm wrapped around his back and lifted him until his feet barely dragged on the floor. He was moving further into the tiny apartment. Blinking owlishly, Tony tilted his head to see Barnes warily eyeing the armor that had followed them inside. “Stand down,” Tony said, causing the armor to sit down on a couch that looked about twenty years old and power down.
Barnes shut the door and locked it, setting Tony back down on his unsteady feet. Ever muscle in his body freezes when Tony’s lips press to the juncture between his neck and shoulder. Tony hummed. “I like plums.”
“Are you sure you should be flying that thing when you’re sauced?”
Tony scoffed. “Of course not. But Jar—uh, I mean… They’re programmed to, like, not fly me into a tree or let me just die so…” He shrugged. He looked up in time to see Barnes roll his eyes before he’s suddenly being carried bridal style into another room. He landed on an old, slightly squeaky mattress with an ‘oof’ before the man slid onto the bed next to him. “Normally, I’d prefer dinner first,” he smirked. “But I like this too.” His hands slipped under the front of Barnes’ shirt, palms sliding over well-defined muscle.
His hands were gently but firmly removed from the shirt, the pout that definitely wasn’t on his face completely ignored. “You’re too drunk for this.”
That’s cute. Tony smirked. “I beg to differ.” He rolled closer, trailing kisses along Barnes’ jaw.
The man sighed. “Trust me, this is the worst idea ever.”
“Of all time?” Tony snickered.
“Yes.”
Tony most certainly did not pout again. “Oh c'mon, Barnes. You're hot. This is a very good idea,” he argued. “Besides, I’ve been drunker.” He continued to kiss and nip at the man’s jaw.
“You won't think that in the morning,” Barnes insisted. “And if you’re going to do that, it’s James.”
“Alright, Jamie.” Tony’s hands slipped under Barnes’ shirt again. “And why would I change my mind? Do you turn into an ogre when the sun comes up?” He started sucking on a soft spot of James’ neck.
“I—what?”
“You gun-shy? It’s fine.” Tony’s hands slid around to James’ back, pulling himself closer. “Just because you haven't had any practice in the last 70 years—"
“I may have lost the majority of my memories, but I haven't lost my touch, Doll.” That low voice practically growled, making Tony shiver.
Tony snorted. "There's that 40’s charm.” He resumed his attack on James’ neck. He could feel it when James gulped.
Tony’s hands are, again, gently but firmly removed form under the shirt. But this time, they’re pinned to the mattress above his head. James sighed. “This is a horrible idea, Sugar. And I can't stand to break that heart of yours, but I will if we do this.”
Tony whined. He didn’t care. He admitted it. “C'mon Dreamboat. Drop anchor in my harbor. It'll be a good time for both of us.”
“Christ’s sake.” Tony could hear the ghost of a laugh. “You got a mouth on you.”
Tony gasped dramatically. “Language, Sargeant.”
James snorted. “Didn’t realize you were so delicate, Doll.” He smirked down at Tony.
“Hah. You’re cracking me up, Snowflake.” It was Tony’s turn to roll his eyes. “But your bestie is a real pain in the neck about it.”
James snorted again. “Stevie cussed worse than a sailor when he was twelve. I remember that much.”
That startled a laugh out of Tony. “We don’t let the geezer get away with it. It’s a whole thing.” He hooked his leg over James’ waist. “Now make an even more dishonest man out of me.”
James huffed. “This is still a bad idea.”
“Yeah, okay. I get it.” Tony sighed and went limp.
“No, you don’t.”
“I’m a mess,” Tony shrugged. “I’m messy. I’m a messy mess. No one wants a—”
“I killed your parents.”
“I—what?” Tony blinked. That had come out of—Did I miss a whole conversation?
James pushed himself up, letting Tony’s wrists go. “Hydra sent the Soldier, sent me, to—”
Tony blinked. "Hydra killed my parents??"
James blinked back. “…yeah. I—”
“Well, I guess I owe my dad an apology.”
“You—what?”
Tony pushed himself up onto his elbows. “All these years, I blamed him. They said it was an accident. He was driving drunk.”
“Was probably a Hydra coroner,” James said with a grimace. “Can’t cover that up as an accident.”
Tony eyed the man, tracing his features with his eyes. Images from the few videos he’d managed to unearth flitted through his brain. Of this man and a chair. “Make it up to me,” he blurted out without meaning to. “Fuck my brains out.”
James looked back at him, startled. “What?”
Tony sighed, dropping back onto the bed. “Ugh, why you gotta be so strictly from Dixie about this?”
James huffed again. “I’m not sure you’re in your right mind—”
Tony heaved a sigh. “I’ve been on a bender, that don’t make me completely stupid.”
“You’ll regret it,” James insisted.
Tony shook his head, sitting up. “Won’t even break my top twelve.” He scoffed out a humourless laugh. “I got a lot of shit going on. I just…” He leaned his head on James’ shoulder. “I…”
James’ fingers thread through his hair, massaging his scalp. “What do you need?”
Tony leaned back, looking into the man’s eyes. “…please,” he choked out in a way that might actually be pathetic. He thought back to the empty tower and his eyes burned. He was pathetic.
He watched as James studied him. The hand that’s still in his hair slid down to the back of his neck. “In that case Sugar, are you rationed?”
It startled a laugh out of him. “Jeepers!” Suddenly, he was flat on his back with a one-armed super soldier lying on top of him. One that’s laughing until Tony pulls him into a toe-curling kiss.
Sometime later, all Tony was capable of thinking was damn, you think he learned that in the 40’s?
Tony fell back onto the old spring mattress, gasping for air. “Holy mackerel,” he breathed out.
Beside him, James’ lets out a breathy laugh. “If I’m capable of remembering, I believe I was promised cheeseburgers.”
Tony rolled over, burrowing into the man’s side with a satisfied hum. He dropped a noisy kiss to skin near where the metal of the arm met flesh. Which was the only part he was able to reach at the moment. “Yes. All the cheeseburgers,” he murmured sleepily.
James’ chest shook as he laughed again. He tilted Tony’s chin, catching his mouth in a tired, sloppy kiss. “Later. Sleep.”
Tony hummed, burrowing back into his side. “You got it, Ace.”
—30—