Archive of Our Own

Tony has never lived alone before.

Well. He’s not really living alone now, but he’s never lived somewhere without either his parents or the Jarvises. He’s not even alone while he’s on tour (not that he wants to be; he’d much rather have the Jarvises with him than travel on his own). The point is, this whole thing is a new experience for him. He’s heard so many horror stories about bad roommate experiences, both in college and out of, and he doesn’t want that to happen to him. Luckily, he’s living with Bucky, and they’re friends, but for all he knows, Bucky is a terrible roommate.

And he’s panicking now, and Bucky is probably on the other side of the door, wondering what’s taking him so long to knock. Tony shores up his courage and knocks. Sure enough, the door opens almost immediately, Bucky giving him a knowing grin.

“Hey, sorry about oh my god, that smells amazing,” Tony says, dropping his breezy tone for awe at the incredible smell coming from what he assumes is the kitchen.

“Hotel food not the best, huh?” Bucky asks, stepping aside to let him in. “Is that all you brought?”

“Hmm?” Tony asks distractedly, practically floating towards the kitchen. “Oh, yeah. I didn’t really have time to go back home and pack up enough clothes for a month, but it’s not like it matters anyway. I’ll be wearing whatever the wardrobe department has me in for tomorrow and then we get three days off, so I can go shopping then. What are you making? Can I have some?”

“Yes,” Bucky laughs, “and it’s chicken parm. Here, let me show you back to your room. I gave you the bigger one; hope you don’t mind.”

“That’s nice of you,” Tony says, dragging his suitcase along the hardwood floors. Both of the bedrooms face the same direction, so he imagines that the view wasn’t the deciding factor when Bucky was picking. Although, once he sees the view his room has, he thinks it wouldn’t matter even if Bucky had chosen the room with the better view because the one he has is already pretty great. It overlooks one of the public beaches, the sand glistening in the sunlight, waves crashing upon the shore.

“Wow,” he murmurs.

“Yeah, I did a pretty decent job, didn’t I?” Bucky says smugly. He’d come out a month ago since he has more filming to do for the Willow Storm movie and let Tony know that he’d be picking out a place with two bedrooms in case Tony decided he didn’t want Ana to come along after all.

“And you’re so modest too,” Tony teases, flashing him a quick grin.

Bucky grins back at him. “Obviously. Oh, hey, you’ve got an—” He reaches out and brushes his fingertip along Tony’s cheekbone. Tony’s breath catches at the unexpected, gentle touch. Bucky holds up his finger, revealing the small hair at the tip. “Eyelash.”

“Oh,” Tony replies, caught off guard and not sure why.

“You should make a wish.”

“You’re the one who caught it. Doesn’t that make it your wish?”

Bucky shrugs. “I don’t mind sharing it with you.”

“Alright, well then, I wish that we’ll have a successful shoot.”

He snorts. “That’s not a wish. That’s a promise. I’m gonna go check on the garlic bread. You gonna finish getting unpacked now or after dinner?”

“After dinner,” Tony says decisively. “It’s been a while since the last time I saw you! You have to tell me how you’ve been.”

“You know how I’ve been,” Bucky argues. “I’ve been on the press tour for Noon Sun.”

“Yeah, but that’s all pre-approved stuff. I want to hear the good details. You know, all the gossip. The dish. The 411.”

Bucky snickers, pulling a pair of oven mitts on so he can lean over and check on the oven. “You’re about ten years too late for that one, doll. But, yeah, okay, I’m pretty sure Julia Bullock is cheating on Richard Reynolds with the director.”

“No,” Tony gasps, perching on one of the barstools in front of the sink. “Tell me everything. I’ll know if you leave something out.”

“And how are you gonna know that when you’ve been on the road?” he retorts good-naturedly.

“Pepper, obviously. I’m telling you, she knows more about Hollywood than Rhodey does, and he’s been acting for a long time.”

“Yeah, that woman’s scary,” Bucky agrees. He twirls a knife around his fingers and starts expertly chopping carrots for a salad. “How do you feel about protein in your salad?”

“Like nuts or like—”

“Bacon bits.”

“Sounds tasty.”

“Excellent. Why don’t you go pick out a bottle of wine? I was personally reassured at the vineyard I bought these from that they were excellent vintages, though I’ll be honest with you, doll, I don’t know a thing about wine.”

“Fortunately, I do,” Tony says, hopping off his stool. He’s underage, but it’s not like he’s planning on driving anywhere tonight, so there’s nothing wrong with a glass or two. He heads for the wine fridge in the corner of the kitchen. “You’re not spilling the details.”

“Right, right,” Bucky says. He lightly squeezes a couple of tomatoes for reasons unknown and then drops them in the salad. “’Fraid I don’t have much more to tell you. I just saw her leaving his hotel room a couple times. And he’s been a lot nicer with her this go-around than he was when we were filming Daybreak.”

“Intriguing,” Tony muses, selecting a bottle that should pair well with chicken parmesan. “I mean, Julia and Richard are the It Couple at the moment now that I’m not dating Peter. Every teen omega in the country is rooting for them.”

“Yeah, can’t imagine what possessed her to cheat on him,” Bucky agrees. “It’ll definitely backfire on her if anyone finds out about it. Not that it’s really my concern.”

“No?” Tony asks, pouring the wine into two glasses. “Not your type?”

“Definitely not,” Bucky says, sounding strangely reassuring. “I’ve got my eye on someone else.”

“They’re a lucky omega, whoever they are.”

Bucky turns away from the stove and gives him a soft smile. “Or maybe I’m just a lucky alpha.”

Since he’s been on the road so much, Tony has never had an official meeting with wardrobe, but it doesn’t really matter since he’s just a cameo anyway. He’s not a big enough star to steal the show away from Willow Storm, the Teen Queen of the pop music scene; no one’s going to be looking to see if his costume fits. They have a selection for him based on the most recent measurements he sent them a few weeks ago, and he winds up in a delicate yellow dress that feels very appropriate given his fans saying that the Fearless album is very yellow before he’s bustled off to makeup.

He has a chance to meet the band he’s working with for this performance while they’re setting up. Disney had wanted to use their in-house band instead of his; it’s probably cheaper or something, he doesn’t pretend to know what goes on in the minds of Hollywood execs. They seem nice enough, though he misses Steve and Natasha and the rest of them.

“Don’t you look cute,” Bucky comments, interrupting his thoughts.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” Tony says, eyeing the dark blue shirt and jeans they’ve put him in. “Brings out your eyes. I especially like the hat.” He flicks the wide brim of the cowboy hat he’s wearing.

He grins ruefully. “Gotta admit, I feel pretty silly in all this.”

“Don’t,” Tony assures him, adjusting his collar. “You look great. Every omega in that audience is gonna swoon.”

“Kind words coming from the omega that’s gonna have every alpha dragged along panting over him.”

“Aw, you think?” Tony asks, swishing his skirt. “Willow’s not too bad looking, herself.”

Bucky makes a disagreeing noise, but only says, “You nervous?”

“No,” Tony snorts. “I’ve got one line and the actual music’s dubbed over with the recording. What’s there to be nervous about?”

“That’s the spirit, doll,” Bucky says, chucking his chin. “Looks like we’re being hailed.”

“Action!”

Tony takes the guitar one of the assistants gives him and waits for Willow and her grandmother to have their little exchange before he moves onto the stage. Bucky is stepping away from the microphone, ostensibly having introduced him, though obviously, the sound will be cut out of the final cut.

Tony remembers what the sound techs had told him about not clearing his throat and what the camera operators said about not looking into the camera, looks out into the crowd, and recites, “We’re gonna slow it down for this next song, if that’s alright with you.”

He strums the opening to Crazier, letting the familiar notes float through his mind and into his hands. His gaze travels across the crowd, past the people moving to slow dance with each other and Willow leaning forward to have a conversation with her dad, and landing on Bucky walking determinedly towards Willow. He smiles faintly at that resolute look on his face, so endearing.

I'd never gone with the wind, just let it flow
Let it take me where it wants to go
'Til you open the door, there's so much more
I'd never seen it before

“Cut!” the director shouts.

Tony blinks, startled out of the haze that playing always puts him in. He looks uncertainly toward the director, wondering if he’s the one who messed up. He’s not sure how he could have when all he’s doing is playing a song—and the director for the Fearless documentary says he has excellent stage presence—but maybe acting in a film is different than a documentary or a music video?

“Willow, honey, could we get some more emotion out of you during this conversation?” the director asks, kneeling by her. “You’re supposed to be thinking that your dad is being stupid and annoying during this part. You can relate to that, right?”

“Hey!” the actor playing her dad, who also happens to be her actual dad, protests.

Willow huffs and rolls her eyes. Bucky, already halfway back to his last cue, catches Tony’s eye and rolls his own. Willow’s diva attitude and Bucky’s frustration with her on set had been the subject of quite a bit of gossip last night. Tony ducks his head to hide a smile.

“Let’s reset and roll from the top of the verse!” the director calls.

Tony lets the music take him over again, unable to pull his gaze from Bucky and Willow as Bucky asks her to dance. He pulls her out to the dance floor, holding her close, that warm light in his eyes hauntingly familiar though Tony can’t place where he knows it from.

I'd never seen it before
I was tryin' to fly but I couldn't find wings
But you came along and you changed everything

You lift my feet off the ground
You spin me around
You make me crazier, crazier
Feels like I'm fallin' and I am lost in your eyes
You make me crazier, crazier, crazier

They’re both good, Tony will grant them that. If he didn’t already know Bucky’s feelings on Willow (and hers on him), he’d think they were just on that precipice of falling in love, so close to the edge and looking forward to taking the leap.

Baby, you showed me what livin' is for
I don't wanna hide anymore

He closes his eyes at the end of the verse, letting the emotions flow through him. He doesn’t know why he feels so close to the edge too. He’s not falling in love with anyone. There isn’t anyone around for him to fall in love with. Bucky is a friend, just a friend, and Tony doesn’t have a claim on him, and he shouldn’t be thinking about eyelashes on fingertips or crooked smiles of a husky voice calling him doll.

You lift my feet off the ground
You spin me around
You make me crazier, crazier
Feels like I'm fallin' and I am lost in your eyes
You make me crazier, crazier, crazier

He slows down as he sings the last line, smiling at Bucky dissolving into giggles when Willow “trips” adorably over her feet during a spin, falling into his arms. He happens to glance up right at that moment, giving Tony a small smile that’s meant just for him. Something swoops in the pit of Tony’s stomach, and then Bucky turns back to Willow and the moment breaks.

Crazier… crazier

Tony has three days off in between wrapping his scenes on Willow Storm and when they start filming New Year’s Eve. Bucky only has two with one more day of filming for the first one before it wraps later tonight, so Tony takes advantage of his free day and goes shopping for a few weeks worth of clothes. He doesn’t mind washing and wearing the same outfits over and over, but he has the money and the free time and he genuinely enjoys shopping, so there’s no reason not to.

Pepper calls him while he’s out, informing him that she saw on Twitter that he was in Hollywood now and does he wants to meet up for lunch? And Tony very much does, though he’s slightly disappointed to hear that Rhodey isn’t also in Hollywood, so he agrees to meet her at this little pizza place she’s fond of and heads off in that direction.

She’s sitting inside the nearly empty restaurant when he gets there, scowling at the person two tables over who’s clearly taking pictures of her. Tony imagines that the headlines tomorrow will read all about her and Rhodey’s supposed breakup.

“Hey, what’s up?” he asks, dropping into the chair across from her. Pepper doesn’t even startle, the poised bastard, even though she couldn’t possibly have seen him coming.

She gives another glare at the other person and then swivels to face him. “I’m going back to school,” she announces.

“…Okay,” Tony says slowly, wondering why she sounds like she’s asking him something. “Good for you?”

“I’m going back to business school,” she clarifies.

Oh. He sees where this is going. “And you want an in at SI,” he states, tapping his fingers along the edge of the table.

She smiles at him, pleased. “Yes, exactly. They said you were clever.”

He grins at her. “What, you didn’t already know that? You know, SI doesn’t normally take interns who haven’t finished their first year.”

“I know,” Pepper says and pulls a large binder out of her oversized purse. “I did my research.” She flips to the first page, revealing a detailed four-year plan. “Stark Industries is the most profitable tech company in the Western Hemisphere, and I want in. I plan on finishing my first year and then applying for their internship. I don’t expect you to get me the job; I’d like to think that my merit managed that. But I do want you to put in a good word for me.”

Tony takes the binder and flips through it, looking at the dossiers she’s compiled on the entire board and his family, including him. “You could have asked me for this,” he says, tapping his page. “Fuck, Pep, this reads like my Wikipedia page. Seriously, you couldn’t have called me up and asked for my favorite food?” She raises an eyebrow, and he waves her off. “Yeah, sure, I’ll put in a good word for you, but only with my mom. She’ll pass it on to Howard. If it comes from me, he’s more likely to refuse to hire you just on principle.”

“Sounds like a plan. Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Stark,” Pepper says, winking at him cheekily.

“Pleasure’s all mine, Miss Potts,” he replies. “Have you ordered already? What’s good? I’m starving.”

The next two days pass quietly, Tony and Bucky sticking to the apartment instead of going anywhere. Tony is working on the songs for the new album, which isn’t going well since Obie won’t approve of the entire album being self-written or of the tentative title. He says that Tony doesn’t have the star power to be the sole writer for the entire album, he’s too young, and such a gimmick will hurt sales (and no amount of arguing that it’s not a gimmick has mattered, which is irritating); and as for the tentative title, he says that Tony is in his twenties now and should be past the airy fairy storybook romance of Fearless.

Tony would just like it to go on record that if Fearless was as airy fairy storybook romance as Obie claims, he would have titled it Love Story, but okay, fine, he’ll pick a different title than Enchanted.

Bucky seems to sense his bad mood and mostly stays out of his way other than dragging him out for meals and the occasional ridiculous trivia game on Youtube that never fails to bring him out of his black mood and makes him laugh. Otherwise, he spends a lot of time reading—mostly classic fantasies, though Tony did notice The Hunger Games in his stack, which makes him wonder if he’s considering auditioning for the film that he’s sure is in the works.

The last day before they start filming, he spends the afternoon in the studio, recording Today Was a Fairytale, which they’re going to use in the trailer and end credits. While touring, whenever he’d had a long enough break, he’d recorded the other three songs that will actually be performed in the movie: Have A Little Faith In Me, I Can’t Turn You Loose, and the classic Auld Lang Syne. He’s actually somewhat disappointed that he didn’t get to record with Bon Jovi, who he’s duetting with in the film on the first two songs, but he had a chance to listen to the audio before he records today and they sound good. The film itself is tropey and trite (he’s pretty sure Marshall’s just hoping that it’ll become an annual holiday faire), but no one will be able to say the soundtrack isn’t good.

“How’d it go?” Bucky asks him when he gets home.

“Perfect,” Tony says, accepting the absent kiss Bucky brushes over his cheek. “As though I’d accept anything less.”

Bucky steers him over to the table where a plate of spaghetti is waiting for him. “You ready for tomorrow?”

“Are you?”

He grins at Tony. “Hell yeah. Been looking forward to this for months.”

“Then I think you know my answer, don’t you?” he teases. Bucky flicks a noodle at him.

Day One of filming New Year’s Eve isn’t actually a filming day. It’s their readthrough day. Tony and Bucky leave the apartment together, taking one of the cars the studio sent for them (apparently, no one put together that there’s a reason the two of them share an address, so there were two cars waiting for them). Garry is waiting for them outside the offices where they’re meeting, all bright smiles and warm handshakes.

“You two got the filming schedule, right?” Garry checks with them before passing them off to one of the production assistants. They must not be the last people to arrive, even though they’d been late thanks to the horrendous traffic.

“Sure thing, boss,” Bucky says, holding his phone up.

“Great! We’re sticking to that, you hear me? None of those overshoots and faffing around until we have to finish the next day here. There’s too many of you to do that.”

“Don’t worry, we’re professionals,” Tony calls over his shoulder, smiling at the assistant when she holds the door open for them. The schedule is light enough; with eight simultaneous storylines and Garry insistent on shooting mostly chronologically, there’s plenty of downtime in between filming days. He probably could have continued the tour this month and just flown back and forth between concerts.

“Tony Stark!” someone exclaims as soon as he takes one step inside the room they were shown to. He blinks, startled to find Bon Jovi right there, looking delighted to see him.

“Mr. Bon Jovi,” he says faintly, stunned that one of his idols looks like this about meeting him.

“Call me Jon,” Bon Jovi says, which ha! No, Tony will not be doing that. “I had a chance to listen to your sessions this morning. Good stuff, good stuff. It’s a shame we only get to be on set together once.”

“Right,” Tony says, looking around for Bucky, who made a beeline for the donuts. Rude. How dare he think of food when Tony needs moral support?

“Alright, alright!” Garry interrupts, leading in another three actors, all of whom Tony has seen in at least one movie. He gratefully seizes on the interruption, murmuring a quick excuse and all but running over to Bucky.

“Coward,” Bucky mutters amusedly while Garry explains how today is going to work.

“Oh yeah, absolutely,” Tony says immediately. Bucky snickers. “It’s Bon Jovi.” He snickers harder. Tony swipes the donut out of his hand. “Give me that. I need it more.”

The first few minutes are taken up with putting in lunch orders. Tony orders something healthy, of course, since he’s still on tour and doesn’t want to make a problem for wardrobe for either the film or the tour by gaining too much weight. That bacon burger sure does look amazing though. Maybe, if he asks nicely, Bucky will make a healthier version for them for dinner tomorrow. He’s proven himself to be an amazing cook, and Tony will absolutely take advantage of that.

“Now, our movie is set in New York,” Garry explains once the lunch orders have been sent off. “In Times Square! The day of the ball drop!”

Tony has been to the ball drop in New York, and he’s of the opinion that it’s not nearly as cracked up to be as everyone makes it sound. It’s loud and crowded and people lose all sense of propriety just so they don’t lose their coveted spot in the pen. He’d made it one full year when he was six, forgot how much he disliked it the next year, and then told Jarvis that he wanted to go home at eight. They’d spent so much time fighting the traffic on their way home that Tony had celebrated New Year’s in the car.

But he’s aware that the Times Square ball drop is a big deal to a lot of people, so he can’t disagree with the magical atmosphere that Hillary Swank paints for them in the opening monologue.

“Oh, hey, hold the elevator!” he requests when it’s his cue. He and Bucky’s character spend almost the entire movie trapped in an elevator, which is a problem for Tony’s high-strung character, Taylor, since he has somewhere to be at midnight (specifically Bon Jovi’s concert, where he’s a backup singer, which Shang-Chi had spent twenty minutes laughing about). Bucky’s character, Randy, hates New Year’s so he’s a lot more laissez-faire about getting stuck.

“I’m going—” Bucky cuts off into a sigh. “Down.”

“Me too,” Tony says.

“No, no,” Garry interrupts. Tony blushes. No one else has gotten any notes yet, even Bon Jovi and he’s as little of an actor as Tony is. “Tony, I want to see annoyed out of you. He tried to close the elevator on you!”

“Yeah, Tony, annoyed,” Bucky whispers in his ear.

Tony swats his leg—Bucky catches his hand before it can connect a second time—and hisses back, “I’ll show you annoyed.” He tries again. “Me too.”

“Much better,” Garry says. “One more time.”

“Me too,” Tony tries one last time, and fortunately, Garry doesn’t stop them.

“Oh yeah,” Bucky says lazily. “I tore down the decorations in the hallway. They were in my way, and it’s against the lease to hang things up.”

Tony tries to imagine how someone who likes New Year’s would talk to someone who’s destroying everyone else’s fun. He huffs and says, “Not my decorations.”

Bucky squeezes his knee under the table and murmurs, “Attaboy. Now you’re getting it.”

“Stark! Again!”

Or maybe he’s not.

Bucky does agree to make bacon burgers as soon as they get in the car, though he insists on lettuce wraps instead of actual buns. Tony would complain—is it even really a bacon burger if it’s wrapped in lettuce instead of delicious soft bread?—but he’s used to the diet by now. He’s been on one for the entirety of the Fearless tour. The casting director telling him what weight he would need to stay under for the duration of filming is nothing new.

“So first day,” Bucky says casually while he’s sticking the bacon in the oven (he says it makes it crispier). “Everything you hoped it would be?”

“Yeah, of course,” Tony says, plucking out an absent tune on his guitar, which is a definite lie. Almost every single line, he’d been stopped and corrected on how he should say it. It got kind of disheartening after a while. “Kind of crazy that Garry wants me though with all of those stars. Katherine Heigl’s been in, what, half a dozen rom-coms? I haven’t even acted in one.”

“But you can sing,” Bucky points out.

“Yeah, I guess.” He shrugs.

“You guess? Tony, you’re practically the most popular singer of our generation, and you’re not even old enough to drink. You might be a country singer, but you’ve got cross-market appeal. Valley girls who have never listened to country music a day in their life are listening to you just because it’s you.”

“Yeah, but—I don’t know—don’t you think Garry only cast me because I’m a singer? I mean, I got the most notes out of everyone there, and Abigail’s three years younger than me, and Jon’s a singer too.”

“I see you got over those starry eyes pretty quick,” Bucky observes dryly.

“He’s not here to complain,” Tony says. He would never call him Jon to his face. “And you’re not helping.”

“Because I know that you’re worrying, and I don’t want to make you feel worse about yourself, but I think you’re worrying over nothing.”

“Masterful job at not making me feel worse about myself, really. Please, tell me more about how I’m overreacting.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Bucky says patiently. “Doll, you’re new. When you picked up a guitar for the first time, did you know exactly how to play it, no notes, no teachers at all?”

“No, but—”

“And what about the first time you built a circuit board? Stevie’s told me all about your interest in engineering, so tell me about that. Did you build it perfectly on your first try or did you need to read the instructions?”

“I built my first circuit board when I was four. And yes, I built it perfectly the first time. There were multiple articles written about it. It was featured in the very first issue of Wired. My dad has it framed in his office.”

“Wait, really? Huh.”

“Bucky,” Tony whines, thumping his head down on the cool countertops.

“The point is that you’ll pick it up. I know we haven’t known each other all that long, but I’ve learned a few things about you. You won’t let something rest until you’ve perfected it. And according to that filming schedule, we’ve got four days before we’re expected back on set. You’ve got plenty of time to perfect it.”

Tony traces designs on the countertop, thinking it over before looking up at Bucky through his lashes. He asks, “Will you help me run lines?”

“As much as you like,” he swears.

“Ha! You’ll regret that promise.”

Bucky grins at him, glances at the timer on the bacon, and gets the beef patties on the stove. “Nah, I don’t think I will.”

They go out for a walk after dinner, ambling along the street in no particular direction. There are still people on the beach, Tony can hear them, but neither of them had thought to grab sandals on their way out the door, and understandably, Bucky doesn’t want to have to deal with sand in his socks.

There’s an antique store just down the block from their apartment that they stop at. It’s kitschy and cheap and not at all Tony’s aesthetic (he prefers a more sleek, modern look personally), but he falls in love with the place immediately. On the counter, there’s a cardboard box of old photos—he assumes left forgotten in donated picture frames because he can’t imagine why else anyone would donate their old photographs. He flips through them, smiling at the married couple in the driveway of what the back says is their first house, at the 80s couple off to their prom in truly terrible outfits, at the baby napping on their alpha’s chest.

“What’d you find?” Bucky asks, carrying a book under his arm.

“Pictures,” Tony says. He nods at the book. “What did you find?”

“An old diary.” He waggles his eyebrows. “Star-crossed lovers and all.”

Tony laughs, tossing his head back. “Someone actually lived through that?” he asks. “I thought that was just a romance novel thing. You know, with Fabio on the cover and everything.”

“Hey, all the best stories come from a truth buried somewhere back there.” Bucky frowns, as though he’s aware that that sentence didn’t quite make sense. “Or something to that effect. I think I’m mixing my metaphors.”

“Or something like that,” Tony says amusedly.

Bucky nods at the photos. “You going to take some home? Give them a new life in the apartment?”

“Nope,” he says but swipes a Polaroid camera on the way to the register. “I’ll take this though!”

Bucky snorts. “Hipster.”

The cashier—who’s more of a hipster than Tony will ever be, complete with flannel shirt in SoCal in summer and ironic mustache tattoo on their finger—is squinting at them like she knows they’re from something but can’t place what. He’d be very surprised if she listens to country music or watches Daybreak, but he watches her while Bucky pays for both of their purchases, wondering if the penny’s going to drop anytime soon. It doesn’t, and they leave, snickering over her befuddled expression.

It's a good day, all things considered, and tomorrow will be even better. He’s going to make sure of it.

“Alright, I know you’re feeling a little nervous after the readthrough,” Bucky says while they’re sitting in makeup.

“A little?” Tony hisses. One of the makeup artists clucks disapprovingly at him. He tries for an apologetic smile, but he thinks it only comes across as a grimace.

“Can I do something kind of unorthodox and definitely a bit inappropriate?”

He turns slightly and gives him a questioning look, raising both of his eyebrows. “Kind of unorthodox and definitely inappropriate?” he repeats.

“A bit inappropriate,” Bucky clarifies helpfully, which actually clarifies nothing, but what the hell. He’s already nervous, and it’s not like things can go any worse than they already did.

“Sure,” he says, figuring it’ll just be a fart joke or something.

It’s not. He gives Bucky a weird look when Bucky follows him into the fake apartment. He’s supposed to already be in the elevator, not in Tony’s apartment. But it’s probably fine; he’s probably just there to provide moral support for Tony’s first line.

“Turn around, doll,” Bucky murmurs. “Don’t think about me.”

He obediently turns back around, just in time for Garry to yell, “Action!”

He opens the door and slips through it, saying his line just as Garry had told him to, “Oh, hey, hold the elevator.”

The door immediately opens up behind him. Bucky walks through, almost completely naked in just his boxers (and when he had the time to do that, Tony has no idea). He holds up his hands confusedly, barely managing to keep a huge grin off his face as he says, “Baby, things were just heating up!”

Tony bursts into laughter, but it’s okay because everyone else does too. Garry laughingly shouts, “Cut, cut, cut!” It’s just so absurd and such a perfect way to cut the tension. There’s a warm ball in the pit of his stomach at the way Bucky willingly poked fun at himself to take the attention off of Tony. He doesn’t know anyone else who would have done that for him. Definitely owed donuts or something for this tomorrow morning.

“Alright, alright, I’m good,” Bucky tells them once the laughter dies down. “Let’s do it again. I’ll be serious this time.”

“Welp, looks like the elevator’s not working,” Bucky says nonchalantly, pressing the button for the lobby floor again.

“What? No!” Tony exclaims, pushing him aside. He presses the lobby button again. And then a second time. And then many, many times after that, but the elevator doesn’t move (it’s actually a really cool set piece that jolts when it’s moving; Tony had a chance to talk with the engineers about it, and it’s basically the same technology as Star Tours at Disneyland, but he’s never gone, so this is all new to him). He grabs the emergency phone. “Hello? Hello? What? Hello?” He turns to Bucky. “Why isn’t it going through?”

Bucky shrugs, taking a seat on the bench at the back. “It doesn’t work either.” He pulls out his phone and starts playing some annoying game.

“Well?” Tony demands, gesturing at Bucky’s phone desperately. “Call the super!”

“Newsflash for you, sweetheart. He—”

“Doesn’t work,” Tony finishes defeatedly.

Bucky nods, then swears loudly when he loses a level.

“No. You know what? No,” Tony says, determined. He presses himself as close as possible to the front bars of the elevator.

“What are you doing?”

He shouts, “Hello? Hello? Can anyone hear me? This is 9B! I’m stuck in this elevator! I’m gonna be late for work!”

“And cut!” Garry shouts. “Day One of the elevator story, that’s a wrap!”

Tony cheers. Bucky hops off the bench and throws his arms around him, squeezing Tony tight. It’s nice. It’s really nice. Bucky’s alpha scent smells like the beach, like salt air and driftwood and coconut sunscreen, and it envelops him in the best way. He doesn’t want to let go.

“Thanks,” Tony whispers.

He feels Bucky smile against his hair. “Anytime.”

Tony is pensive on the drive home. Bucky is chatting with their driver, capable of making friends with anyone apparently, and doesn’t seem to notice that Tony is quiet. He knows better than to believe that act, though; Bucky is well aware that he needs the space to think and giving it to him. He might not know what Tony needs the space to think about, but he’s thoughtful like that anyway.

The thing is, he knows this swooping feeling like an old childhood toy, recently found under the bed.

This is the first stage of a crush.

He supposes that there are worse people he could develop feelings for (Peter Quill comes to mind). Bucky is a stand-up kind of guy. He’s thoughtful and kind and sharp as a tack and… well, there are worse people out there. But Tony has never thought of him like that before today (if he’s being honest with himself, since the day he walked into their shared apartment). He’s always been Steve’s friend and then Tony’s date to keep the press off his back. The idea of him being a potential romantic partner in and of himself has never occurred to him.

But now that he’s thinking about it, he can’t stop wondering what it would be like. Truthfully, he thinks it’s probably very similar to the way they already act around each other. Bucky cooks dinner, Tony plays him songs, they take walks along the beach in the evenings and support each other during the day. The only thing that would change would be frequent kisses and the occasional something more. He thinks about sharing a bed instead of falling asleep in separate bedrooms, about waking up next to Bucky in the mornings, and shivers at it. Dating Bucky, he thinks, would be a lot like being friends with him, only with a little bit extra.

And when he thinks about it like that, it doesn’t seem quite so crazy an idea.

“You’ve been quiet lately,” Bucky comments while they’re eating breakfast a few days later. “Everything okay?”

“Hmm?” Tony asks, startled. “Oh, yeah, I guess.”

Damn. He’d been hoping that Bucky hadn’t picked up on it. He has been quiet lately, his mind going around and around in circles about what to do about his newly-realized feelings. It feels a bit like a disservice that he didn’t think of him in a romantic light until Bucky started taking care of him. But it also feels a bit like a disservice that he’s thinking of him romantically at all, that he’s acting like the way Bucky’s acting has to have an ulterior motive behind it and can’t just be the way two friends treat each other.

But he can’t help it! No one he’s ever dated has taken care of him like this. It makes him feel cherished, treasured. So maybe his wires got a bit crossed! It’s not really that much of a surprise, is it?

“Something on your mind?” Bucky asks. He nods at the eggs Tony is pushing around the plate. “Better eat up. I overheard one of the assistants last day on set; they think we’ll be there a while today.”

Tony obediently shovels another forkful in his mouth, inwardly glowing at the care Bucky shows him. He’d be a good alpha, he thinks. He swallows and says, “Nothing really.”

“Right,” Bucky says. He looks skeptical. He hasn’t figured it out, has he? Tony has been so careful to keep his feelings a secret while he works through them. “Well, if it’s nothing, then I guess we should get going.”

Nodding, Tony finishes the last few bites, puts the plate in the dishwasher, and slips on his shoes while Bucky gets the dishwasher going.

“Oh, hey,” Bucky says casually, opening the door. “When we get home, I need to talk to you. Nothing bad!” Tony must have quite the alarmed look on his face if he’s adding that disclaimer. “Just… talk.”

Tony can’t concentrate that day, so it’s a good thing that he’s gotten used enough to acting and to how Garry wants things done that he can afford to be a little unfocused. He just can’t stop thinking about what Bucky wants to talk about. There’s a niggling feeling in the back of his mind that he’s figured it out, that he knows Tony has been fantasizing about going on dates with him and kissing him. But he said it wasn’t a bad thing, so if he does know, he can’t be too upset about it, right?

Bucky doesn’t say anything until they’re back home, but at least he doesn’t waste time once they’re there. He toes his shoes off, heads into the kitchen to start digging through the small collection of takeout menus they have while Tony pads curiously (and slightly worriedly) after him, and then says, “So I want to lay all my cards on the table here.”

“Okay,” he replies hesitantly.

He turns around and faces Tony, bracing himself against the counter, and bluntly says, “I’m interested in you.”

Tony blinks. In his wildest dreams, he’d thought—hoped—it might be that, but he hadn’t really let himself believe that that would be the case. “Okay,” he repeats.

“I’ve been interested in you the entire time,” Bucky continues. “Steve didn’t think of me on his own. He was telling me about your plan to be seen with attractive alphas to rub it in Peter’s face how well you were doing after the breakup, and I told him that I wanted to be one of them. I told him all the way back then that I wanted to date you, but he said you weren’t ready for that. You just needed a friend, and after meeting you the first time, I believed him. So I decided I’d be your friend and that would be fine.

“And honestly, Tony, being your friend is absolutely worth it. I don’t think that I’m settling for anything by being your friend. I want you to know that now. If you tell me right now that all you want is to be my friend, then we’ll keep being friends and I’ll learn to be okay with that.

“But I don’t think that’s all you want,” he adds, looking nervous for the first time since he started his speech. His fingers tap out a staccato beat against the countertop. “It’s been almost a year since Peter, and when you mentioned sharing an apartment while we were filming, I thought I would at least show you what we could be like together. And I think you picked up on that. I think you’ve been quiet the last few days because you realized you might have feelings for me too. And if you do, then I’d like to take you out on a date—”

“Yes,” Tony blurts out.

It’s Bucky’s turn to blink at him. “Yes?”

“Yeah. Yes. You look really shocked,” Tony realizes. “This wasn’t a joke, was it?”

Bucky chuckles ruefully, running his hand through his hair. “I didn’t think I’d get this far,” he admits. “I thought you’d shut me down and tell me I was reading too much into things.”

Tony feels a slow smile creep across his face. He takes two large steps across the kitchen until he’s right in front of Bucky and takes his other hand between both of his. “You’re not reading too much,” he says. “And I’d really like it if you took me out on a date. A lot.”

“Yeah?” Bucky breathes.

Tony nods eagerly at him. “Yeah.”

Bucky laughs again, relieved and joyous, and sweeps him up into his arms, spinning him around. Tony clings to his shoulders, unable to keep from laughing himself.

They’re going to be so good.

Their first date is two days later. Bucky nearly drags them out the same night he asks Tony out, only to abruptly stop when they’re halfway out the door and declare that Tony deserves better than something hastily thrown together (they go with the original plan of eating takeout, but they eat on the balcony and watch the sun set over the ocean).

For their first date, Bucky tells him it’s a surprise and then takes him to a little bistro down the street from their apartment. Bucky trades out his motorcycle boots and jeans for chinos and a sky blue button down that brings out the blue in his grey eyes. Tony wears light grey linen pants and a white blouse that Pepper says flatters his cheekbones, though he’s not sure how that works.

“You’ll want to eat something light,” Bucky tells him as they’re sitting down. “I’ve got plans after this.”

“What, are we going running along the beach?” Tony jokes. Bucky just raises an eyebrow mysteriously and glances at the menu. Tony rolls his eyes good-naturedly and takes a look at their list of sandwiches.

“Hi, I’m Devon, I’ll be your serv—oh my god, you’re Tony Stark,” their waiter gapes, fumbling his notebook. Bucky smoothly catches it before it hits the ground and hands it back to him. Devon barely even seems to notice, still staring at Tony. “I’m sorry, I’m just such a huge fan. I have both of your albums and the deluxe versions, and my cousin, who lives in England, she sent me the international version, and I have your EPs too, and—"

“I am,” Tony interrupts before anyone else notices Devon’s gushing, “and there’s an extra big tip and an autograph in it for you if you don’t go back to the kitchen and tell everyone we’re here.”

Devon finally seems to notice that Bucky is there. He looks back at Tony, then at Bucky again, points between the two of them, and finally settles on his eyes bulging. “Are you on a date?” he whispers.

“Trying to,” Bucky says, sounding a little strained. Tony reaches under the table and settles his hand on Bucky’s knee, squeezing reassuringly. Even overenthusiastic waiters won’t ruin this for them.

“Oh,” Devon says, face lighting up. “Yeah. Okay. Um. Waters? I’ll get you both waters?”

He hurries off before Tony can ask if they have Diet Coke. He turns to Bucky, shaking his head. “Hope you’re in the mood for water,” he quips.

Bucky relaxes and pulls Tony’s hand out from under the table, threading their fingers together. “It’s healthy and delicious,” he says.

“It’s tasteless,” Tony counters.

“It’s—”

Devon is back with their waters.

“Wow, that was fast,” Tony remarks.

“I—yeah. Was that too fast? I can give you a few more minutes if that’s what you’d like.”

“Devon, we’re fine,” Bucky says, sounding stressed again. Tony squeezes their joined hands. “Doll, do you know what you want?”

“I think the club sandwich,” Tony says, glancing down at the menu one more time. “But without the avocado?”

“And I’ll have a BLT,” Bucky says.

Their dinners arrive just as quickly as their waters had, and no one else bothers them, though Tony does spot a few surreptitious phones being pointed in their direction. Bucky relaxes more as the evening goes on, and by the time they leave, he’s back to being himself, confident and caring and funny.

Tony is half-expecting that they’re going to go home after this, but Bucky takes his hand again once they’re outside and keeps pulling him down the street, all the way to a—

“Whole Foods?” Tony asks, wrinkling his nose. “Are we out of groceries or something?”

“No,” Bucky laughs and pulls him around the corner of the Whole Foods to an elevator cleverly tucked away behind some potted plants.

“Where are you taking me?” Tony asks curiously.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” Tony says immediately.

“Then—” Bucky steps behind him and puts his hands over Tony’s eyes. Understanding, Tony closes them, letting himself be guided into the elevator. He thinks it rises instead of sinks, and he wonders what on earth is on top of the Whole Foods that Bucky wants to show him. Whatever it is, people are laughing and shouting good-natured insults at each other as vaguely carnival-like music plays through the speakers.

“Alright, you can open them,” Bucky says, taking his hands away.

Tony opens his eyes to see a large roller rink. “Oh,” he whispers, excitedly turning to Bucky. “We’re here to skate?”

“Sure thing,” Bucky says, leading him over to the skate rental.

They get their skates and settle on one of the benches to pull them on, though Bucky kneels in front of him before Tony can start getting his shoes off.

“May I?” he asks, waiting for Tony to nod before drawing his foot into his lap. It’s surprisingly intimate, Bucky carefully loosening each lace before removing the shoe. Tony isn’t sure that he breathes even once the entire time, his heart fluttering in his chest.

“Hey,” he breathes once Bucky has finished with both of his shoes, “come up here for a second?”

“Why?” Bucky asks, his brow furrowing adorably.

“Because I want to kiss you,” Tony says frankly. “And it’s kind of hard to do that when you’re down there.”

When their lips meet, Tony is still giggling at how quickly Bucky scrambles up onto the bench to join him. He doesn’t continue laughing for very long though, his laughs turning to sighs while Bucky kisses him soft and slow and utterly perfect. He feels drunk on them when they pull away, his head somewhere high in the clouds.

“You ready to skate?” Bucky murmurs.

“Mmhmm,” Tony hums. He glances down. “Just as soon as you get your skates on.”

Bucky looks down. “Damn.”

Tony bursts into giddy giggles all over again.

Their next date is at a large warehouse called the Drive-In.

“You know a drive-in is supposed to have cars, right?” Tony asks as they walk inside.

Bucky laughs brightly. “Will you just wait and see? I don’t want to ruin the surprise.”

The surprise is that the interior of the warehouse is painted to look like an outdoor drive-in theater. Classic convertible cars dot the landscape, all facing a large theater screen. It takes Tony a moment to realize what film is showing; he gasps delightedly.

“This is Creature From the Black Lagoon!” he exclaims.

Bucky kisses the side of his head. “Yep,” he says. “You said you liked old school sci-fi, so when I heard they were doing a double feature tonight…” He shrugs. “Seemed like the perfect date.”

“I love it,” Tony declares. He doesn’t even care how the food is. The novelty of an experience like this, combined with one of his favorite films of all time, makes this the one of the best dates he’s ever been on. Bucky has a gift for picking amazing dates.

The restaurant is packed, but they’re shown to their table almost immediately. Given the format, Tony would assume that each car is assigned once per night instead of rotating out. He kicks his heels up onto the seat next to him, scooting closer to Bucky so he can lay his head on his shoulder, and lets his imagination follow Dr. Carl Maia into the Amazon.

They stumble inside the apartment, kissing furiously. Bucky kicks the door closed behind him, hard enough that something deeper inside the apartment shatters—one of their many knickknacks, Tony would guess.

“Oops,” Bucky mumbles against his lips and directs him towards the couch.

They keep bumping into things, but it just heightens Tony’s need, the delays driving him crazy. The backs of his knees impact the couch, nearly sending him toppling over, but Bucky reverses them at the last moment, sitting down hard and tugging Tony into his lap. Tony straddles him, legs splayed across Bucky’s wide thighs. Oh god, Bucky is so big, and it makes him a little wet, thinking about how much alpha he is.

“Off,” Tony mutters, tugging at Bucky’s Henley. “I want this off.”

“Yours first,” Bucky counters.

Tony rolls his eyes. “This isn’t a negotiation,” he grumbles, but Bucky raises an eyebrow and stops kissing him until he sighs and pulls his shirt over his head. At least Bucky’s eyes go gorgeously dark and stormy, which makes him preen.

“So gorgeous, doll,” Bucky says against his shoulder, kissing the slopes of his collarbones.

"Bucky," Tony whines, drawing out his name. “Shirt.”

“I got you, baby, I got you,” Bucky says and pulls back enough to take his shirt off, dropping it carelessly over the side of the couch. His chest is a work of art, muscled with just enough fat on his bones to make it obvious that he’s not starving himself to keep up with Hollywood.

“And you say I’m gorgeous,” he comments and kisses him before Bucky can try to argue.

They go for walks along the beach in the mornings when they’re not filming, long before even the most eager tourists have started to arrive, and watch the surfers and the waves so tall Tony’s heart leaps into his throat.

When they are filming, they go to set and flirt while the makeup artists shake their heads and cluck at the gossip magazines that have picked up on their romance. Garry loves their chemistry, and it’s fun, getting to spend the entire day flirting with his boyfriend.

“Finally, you see me,” Tony says. Bucky pretends to search the crowd that they don’t have in this fake party in the elevator they’re stuck in, lands on him, and goofily points at him while he mouths There you are. Tony has to fight back a laugh. “You smile tentatively at me.”

Bucky gives him an even goofier grin, and Tony allows himself to laugh this time.

“Tentatively,” he reminds him, and Bucky’s smile softens into something sweeter and more genuine. His heart skips a beat.

When they go home in the evenings, if they don’t go out, they spend hours on the balcony, Bucky reading to him while he works on the next album (he’s landed on Speak Now, he thinks; it’s a good continuation of that courageous theme from Fearless). And when they’re finally ready to say goodnight—if they can ever truly be considered ready—Bucky walks Tony up to his bedroom door and kisses him one more time, and it’s perfect.

Tony loses his virginity, though he hates calling it that, on a hot night when summer still has a grip on the city despite the calendar. The windows in Bucky’s room are cracked open, a breeze drifting in off the ocean when he tips Tony backwards onto the bed. Faint sounds of people partying float up around them as Tony digs his fingers into Bucky’s back and arches up into his body, his mouth opening on a choked cry that Bucky swallows with a hot kiss. When Tony comes for the last time, he clenches around Bucky’s knot, and Bucky muffles his shout in Tony’s neck.

It's beautiful, and it’s perfect, and it’s everything that he’s ever dreamed it would be, good omega image be damned.

 He curls into Bucky’s side afterward, idly tapping out a tune on his chest, lyrics about tonight lazily gliding through his mind. Bucky hums tunelessly and rolls over, wrapping his arm around Tony’s waist. He places a kiss on Tony’s nose, and Tony blushes, burying his face in Bucky’s chest.

Bucky chuckles above him and kisses the top of his head. “Was it good for you?” he asks, sounding nervous.

“I came three times,” Tony says dryly. “Clearly, it was awful.”

“Imp,” Bucky says fondly. “Will you stay here tonight?”

Tony’s response is to throw his leg over Bucky’s, trapping him against his body. “Wild horses couldn’t drag me away,” he promises.

“Well, let’s make sure there aren’t wild horses around here, hmm?”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Tony, doll, I can kiss you or I can make sense. Which is it gonna be?”

“…Kiss me.”

“Taylor!” Bucky calls after him. “Wait up!”

“Randy?” Tony asks, turning to him. They’re working on a set other than the elevator, and it’s actually much bigger than just a set. They’re working on one of the Universal backlots, which is both very cool and kind of terrifying since there are a lot more extras than the minimal crew Tony is used to working with. It’s not their first day on this backlot (that was a few days ago when Tony had actually gotten to perform with Bon Jovi during one of the party scenes).

It's also a little bittersweet since this is also their last day filming. The wrap party is at the end of the week, and then that’s the end of their time in this cozy bubble. Tony will go back on tour, and Bucky will start filming the next Daybreak movie. But they have today. They have the rest of this week. He just needs to look on the bright side.

“Hey, how did you get back here?” he asks, shooting for the harried tone Garry has been urging him for all morning. Garry doesn’t shout cut! so he thinks he’s finally managed it.

“They think that I’m Jensen’s drummer,” Bucky replies. He pauses. Adds, “…Because that’s what I told them.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just—you left this on the elevator,” Bucky says, holding out a red and gold bracelet. “I saw the symbol on it means balance, and you want to keep your balance while you’re out there dancing, so. And I thought it might be lucky or, I don’t know.”

“You… came all the way out here just to return my bracelet to me?” Tony checks, charmed.

“And,” Bucky says slowly. He sighs, steeling himself. “I wanted to tell you Happy New Year.”

Tony smiles warmly at him. “Happy New Year, Randy.” He turns and starts to go.

“And you forgot one more thing!” Bucky hurriedly adds. Tony half-turns back to him, Bucky meeting him in a kiss when he’s almost there. It’s chaste and lovely, neither a huge showstopper or a quick peck like some of the other kisses in the film. It’s perfect for their little, self-contained storyline.

“I can’t forget that,” Tony murmurs, smiling at him. When he turns away this time, Bucky lets him go, but he can feel his eyes on his back, heated and promising for tonight.

“Cut!” Garry shouts. “Great work! Let’s reset for Auld Lang Syne.”

Tony takes a sandwich break while they’re getting set up for the final scene that they’re shooting today—their final scene overall. He can hardly believe it. It feels like the month has flown by. In just a few short days, he’ll be back on tour. He’s looking forward to it, of course—he’s missed his band and Ana and Jarvis—but this has been such an amazing month.

“Tony, I want to talk to you about the song,” Garry catches him when he’s returning to the stage. “I know you’ve got all that experience behind you, and honey, you’re a natural on stage, but I just want to remind you. This is Taylor’s first experience singing solo, and he’s singing for the entirety of Times Square. When people look back on tonight, it’ll be his performance they remember, okay? So, remember, I want to see nervous out of you.”

Nervous, Tony reminds himself as he steps up to the microphone. Nervous. He inhales shakily, looking out over the crowd of extras. None of them are paying attention to him right now, all of them acting like the ball has just dropped and they’re celebrating. He closes his eyes and sings.

Should old acquaintance be forgot
And never brought to mind
Should all acquaintance be forgot
And auld lang syne

Slowly, a hush starts to fall over the crowd. He opens his eyes, sees them watching him, and yeah, for all his experience, he doesn’t have to fake his nerves anymore. It might be night, but the floodlights are so bright for the cameras that he can see each and every individual expression on everyone’s faces.

For auld lang syne, my dear
For auld lang syne
We'll take a cup o' kindness yet
For auld lang syne

His eyes find Bucky’s in the crowd, smiling proudly at him. The music starts to pick up, the drums joining in with the piano. He smiles back at Bucky and sings to him, voice growing steadier.

And surely you will buy your cup
And surely I'll buy mine
And we'll take a cup o' kindness yet
For auld lang syne

We too have run around the slopes
And picked the daisies fine
We've londoned many weary foot
Since auld lang syne

He looks back at the crowd and inhales deeply, squaring his shoulders as his confidence grows. They’re silent now, all eyes focused on him. He imagines that Taylor’s storyline ends with being asked to open for Jensen’s next tour, that eventually his popularity grows until he’s headlining his own tour.

For auld lang syne, my dear
For auld lang syne
We'll take a cup o' kindness yet
For auld lang syne

The music builds to a crescendo and then fades out until it’s just his voice remaining, singing acapella in the silence. He looks back at Bucky again and beams at him.

We too have paddled in the stream
From morning sun to night
But the seas between us broad have roared
From auld lang syne

For auld lang syne, my dear
For auld lang syne
We'll take a cup o' kindness yet
For auld lang syne

The piano finally comes back, closing him out. He lets his eyes drift shut again, the music picking him up and carrying him through the final notes.

We'll take a cup o' kindness yet
For auld lang syne

It’s hushed for a moment—then the crowd starts cheering. He opens his eyes, a giddy smile spreading across his face. In the crowd, Bucky’s proud face stands out—well, that and the double thumbs up he’s holding. Tony laughs and holds up his wrist, pointing to the red and gold bracelet he’s wearing.

“And cut!” Garry shouts. “Great work, everyone! That’s a wrap on the elevator story and Taylor and Randy!”

Tony is exhausted by the time they get back from the wrap party. Garry had had cameras on them all night, supposedly to add to the blooper reel, but Tony had felt that need to perform, to present his best image. It’s not that he minds spending a few hours in his public persona, but the party had dragged on a while, and he’s tired.

“Bed?” Bucky asks, his arm around Tony’s shoulders, leading him through the apartment.

“Mmm,” Tony agrees sleepily. “I had plans.”

“Yeah?”

“They were good plans.”

“I’m sure they were, doll.”

“I was gonna blow you.”

“Well, I think I’ll be alright with missing out on that tonight,” Bucky says. Tony can hear the grin in his voice.

“I could do it in my sleep,” he mumbles, listing into Bucky’s side.

“Exactly. I believe you. No need to prove it to me.”

He feels hands tugging at his shirt and obediently raises his arms for Bucky to take it off of him. Judging by the whisper of fabric he hears, Bucky probably just dumped it on the floor. There’s a part of him that cares about that—trying to get wrinkles out of silk is a nightmare and a half, okay, and that’s a seven hundred dollar shirt—but most of him is too tired to care. That’s a problem for Tomorrow Tony.

“How are you covered in glitter?” Bucky mutters, giving him a scandalized look.

“Omegas’ hazard,” Tony says. Abigail had brought glittery makeup, which Tony had wanted to try, and Sophia had worn a glittery dress, which had finished the job.

“Right, well, let’s get you into a shower first,” Bucky decides, steering him into the bathroom instead of to the bed. He settles Tony on the sink while he starts the shower. Tony watches him with a drowsy sort of interest that probably would have become something if he just hadn’t been so tired.

“Come on, doll,” Bucky says, helping him hop off the counter. “Shower time.”

They’ve never had shower sex before, which Tony suddenly decides is a tragedy since it’s their last night here. But though Bucky does an excellent job of holding him up, nothing is instigated on either of their parts (he wonders if Bucky is as tired as he is and just hiding it better because he has someone to take care of), and before he knows it, he’s been bundled back out of the shower and into a towel, somewhat less glittery than he was before.

“It’s our last night,” Tony says softly as he’s climbing into bed. “Feels like we should be doing something.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything at first as he walks around to the other side. Tony rolls onto his side to watch him. He looks pensive, beautiful in the moonlight, and Tony is so, so lucky that they belong to each other. He folds the sheets back before Bucky can grab them, smiling sleepily up at him. Bucky smiles back at him and climbs in next to him, also settling on his side so he can face him.

He reaches out and cups Tony’s cheek, thumb brushing back and forth over his temple. Tony closes his eyes and leans into it, purring contentedly.

“We went to the party,” Bucky says at last. “I got to watch you have fun with everyone. I know it wasn’t a date, but there’ll be other chances.”

Tony opens his eyes again. “Will there?” he asks, unable to stop the worried note from creeping into his voice.

Bucky frowns. “Of course there will. Did you—” His face clears. “Baby, did you think I was done with you after this?”

He doesn’t say anything. He can’t. The truth is he didn’t really think that, but there’s a part of him that’s wondered ever since Peter when Peter started getting tired of him. They only dated for three months. It couldn’t have been long before he decided that Tony wasn’t what he wanted. Was it two months? When they could barely find a time to be together, only stealing moments when they could? Was it less than that? Was it only a month?

And now, he and Bucky are reaching the end of their first month together, and they haven’t been living halfway across the country from each other, but they’ve been living in each other’s pockets—sometimes literally—and isn’t that just as bad? He’s not tired of Bucky, of course he’s not, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be. And Bucky isn’t Peter, but maybe not being Peter is what makes him tired of taking care of him all the time.

“Oh, doll,” Bucky breathes. His hand on Tony’s cheek slides back into his hair, pulling him forward into a kiss that’s achingly gentle. “I’m not done with you, baby. I’m nowhere near done with you.”

“You’re not?” Tony asks hopefully.

“Not even close,” he swears. “You’re gonna be the one who gets sick of me.”

“That’ll never happen,” Tony says.

“It might. I’m gonna follow your tour every chance I get. I’ll be right there waiting when you step off the stage. I’ll come visit you in Nashville. You’ll see. You can’t get rid of me now.”

Tony smiles and kisses him again. “That sounds perfect,” he says.

“Good. Now, come here. I wanna hold you until you have to leave tomorrow.”

And Tony goes, falling asleep wrapped in Bucky’s arms.

The next morning is hectic. In their exhaustion the previous night, they’d forgotten to set an alarm. Tony only wakes up when the driver he’d hired knocks on his door, startling him out of a sound sleep.

He blinks at the clock once and then yelps and scrambles out of bed, toppling Bucky onto the floor in his haste to get out of the blankets. Bucky shrieks, dumped unceremoniously on the ground as he is.

“I’m going to be late!” Tony shouts at him, hopping on one foot as he tries to pull his sock on.

The next twenty minutes are a masterclass in getting dressed, getting fed, and getting out the door. Most of Tony’s things have already been shipped on ahead but he has a small suitcase and a guitar with seagulls painted on it that Bucky had bought for him during one of their dates. Both the suitcase and the guitar are already packed, but somehow, he keeps finding knickknacks that he missed when he was packing earlier. He manages it though, and in less than half an hour, he’s hurtling down the stairs to meet the very irritated driver.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologizes to her, throwing his things in the trunk of the car. She blows an obnoxious bubble that has his jaw clenching.

“Tony,” Bucky says gently.

He takes a deep breath and turns around. He’d wanted a lazy morning in before he had to go. He’d wanted to exchange sweet kisses and maybe wake Bucky up with that blowjob he didn’t get to give him last night. He’d wanted it to be the perfect last morning together before they were parted.

“I’ll see you soon, right?” he asks, holding Bucky’s hands.

Bucky raises their hands to his mouth and kisses the backs of Tony’s. “I told you last night: you can’t get rid of me. As soon as I can get away, I’ll be right there in Nashville, waiting for you.”

“I’ll hold you to that, mister,” Tony tells him and leans in for one last kiss.

He stares out the window of the plane, ignoring his chatty seatmate who wants to tell him all about this being his first time in first class and how lucky he was that the airline upgraded him at the last second and did Tony want to see his grandkids?

(He doesn’t.)

He misses Bucky. He misses their bed and their apartment and their balcony overlooking the ocean. He misses the antique store and the coffeeshop on the bottom floor of their building and the roller rink they’d gone to on their first date.

“Sir?” the flight attendant asks, interrupting his melancholy thoughts. “Is there anything I can get you to drink?”

“No, thank you,” he says quietly, already turning his gaze back to the window.

He misses soft kisses in the morning and heated ones at night and dancing around the kitchen while classic rock played over the radio. And he knows that he’ll see Bucky again soon—he believes him when he sees he’ll be waiting—but soon isn’t now, and he misses him.

Fuck, but he misses him.

He knows that he’s supposed to be met by someone when he lands, but to his surprise, neither Ana nor Jarvis are the ones waiting for him.

It’s Steve.

“Steve!” he calls, waving when Steve’s head snaps in his direction. Steve’s face splits into a broad grin, and he waves back. An overwhelming sense of relief and right washes over Tony. He’s finally home.

“Hey!” Steve greets him, sweeping him up into a hug. “It’s good to finally have you back.”

“No need to butter me up. I’m sure you guys kept busy,” Tony comments. It’s good to see him again. He’d known that he missed his friends while he was in California, but he hadn’t realized just how much until just now.

“Busy, yes. But none of them were as talented as you,” Steve says easily, leading the way out of the airport, Tony’s suitcase in his hand because he hadn’t seen him grab it. “So, you and Bucky, huh?”

Tony sighs happily. “Yeah, me and Bucky.”

“Good,” he says firmly. “You deserve someone nice.”

“And Bucky’s someone nice?”

“God no, he’s an asshole.” He laughs. “But he’ll treat you right. He’s a good alpha. Did you have fun?”

“Yes,” Tony says enthusiastically. “Seriously, I had the time of my life. Did you know—” And he’s off, eagerly telling Steve all about his work on both films, about Willow Storm and Garry and meeting Bon Jovi and the days he and Bucky spent in a tiny elevator, bickering with each other and falling in love. Steve listens with a small, curious smile on his face, making appropriate noises at all the right times.

“But what about you?” Tony says eventually once they’re in the car, halfway back to the house. “It couldn’t have all been bad. Come on, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell—”

“Okay, okay!” Steve laughs, reaching over and lightly shoving Tony into the door. “I’ll tell you if it’ll get you to shut up.”

“Rude!” he chirps.

“Accurate,” he shoots back. “I’m serious, though. None of them have your talent, and if they do, then they’re an asshole.”

“I don’t like you guys playing for assholes,” Tony says, frowning. “That’s no fun.” He makes a mental note to ask Obie about changing their contracts (if they want, of course) to lock them in as exclusively playing for him. With the money coming in off the tour and the trust he’ll have access to when he turns twenty-one, he can afford it.

“We’re glad to have you back,” Steve tells him again, sincere and kind. Tony smiles at him and squeezes his arm.

“I’m glad to be back,” he says. “California was amazing and I’ll miss it, but it’s not home, you know?”

“Well,” Steve says, nudging his hand. “Welcome home.”