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“You’re sure about this, doll?”
“What, you already changing your mind, Buckaroo?”
Hands rested loosely against his thighs as Bucky studied Tony, unhurriedly taking in every inch of him in slow, methodic sweeps. He knew that Tony had been on edge for weeks. Well, more on edge than usual.
There had been some article – a long, rambling piece from a tiny blog with a readership in the single digits on a good day. But the blog had been accompanied by a photo. And that photo? That photo was what the tabloids had picked up on. Ever since, Tony had been locked away in his workshop, refusing to come out to eat, to sleep, to do anything other than be available for Avengers emergencies. And even then, after the initial growing media interest had seemed to only spike further, Jarvis had started asking what category level the threat was before Tony would come out. Did they really need aerial support from him, or would Thor and Falcon suffice?
The team had decided it was getting ridiculous, and the time for an intervention was fast approaching. Bucky, on the other hand, was more worried about precisely what had sent Tony spiralling – and how he could help fix things.
Two weeks earlier
“He’s not normally like this,” Bucky said, voice low and easily lost amongst the loud back and forth of the informal team meeting. Clint seemed to be more focused on seeing how many pieces of popcorn he could toss into Thor’s hair before the big guy noticed, while Thor himself was having a loud debate with Bruce about the merits of Poptarts versus all-natural organic granola of all things.
Only Steve’s attention had flicked to Bucky, brow drawing down, fingertips stilling in their drumbeat against the table. He let out a sigh and shrugged, a ‘What can you do?’ expression on his face.
“I forgot that you haven’t been here for one of Stark’s scandals before. He just gets like this sometimes. You’ll get used to it. I’m sure he’ll be fine in a couple of days. The Stark Industries legal department has already had the blog taken down.” Steve’s brow drew down into a frown. “Although we should probably have someone talk to Tony directly about appropriate behaviour in public–”
Bucky’s grip on the edge of the table tightened, metal denting beneath his touch like putty. Steve’s eyes flicked down, concern growing. “Buck–”
“He was in a club, Stevie. A private, members-only place. He didn’t expect anything to get leaked. There aren’t even any bad photos. It’s just him leaving.” And a whole bunch of paperwork, and interviews, and comments from people Bucky wasn’t even convinced Stark had ever met, much less interacted with personally. It was maddening. How could nobody else see how unfair it all was? Bucky held Steve’s gaze. “What exactly has the guy done wrong?”
Steve shrugged again, reaching for the coffee to refill his cup. Buckey held his hand over the top, refusing to let go. Steve let out a sigh. “You’ll understand more when you’ve been around a bit longer. Tony just… has a habit of getting himself into these situations. It wears on you over time. You’ll see.”
Bucky hadn’t meant to go searching, but Stevie’s words had stuck with him. Once he was back in the privacy of his own room, he found himself browsing to see what he could find on Tony. And, well, once he had read that first headline:
Stark back to his old ways? New sex club scandal!
Bucky just couldn’t help but click. And click. And click.
Before he knew it, Bucky had fallen down the rabbit hole that was Tony Stark’s past sexual exploits, and… frankly, he was confused. The media liked to paint him as some terrible Playboy, and yet, from what Bucky could dig up, there were virtually no interviews of Tony with men or women hanging off of his arms since his press conference post-Afghanistan. There were still plenty of tell-alls, interviews, and exclusives, all from people who claimed to have spent the night with Tony. But, other than his brief stint of time officially dating Ms Potts, that period had been filled with tasteful magazine photoshoots and gushing interviews from Tony – Bucky couldn’t see anything that had actually come from Tony himself. Which just raised the question: Why was nobody checking in on Tony? Why was nobody thinking of asking how he was doing?
“Huh.”
Bucky lurked in the doorway to the workshop; he could already feel a headache beginning to build behind his eyes, the sheer volume of Tony’s music making his teeth rattle. How could he get anything done with music blaring that loud?
“Jarvis! Turn it down. Daddy’s got company.”
“I do wish you wouldn’t refer to yourself like that, Sir. Volume set to five per cent.”
Tony batted away the giant mechanical claw that seemed to be trying to force a smoothie into his hands. He rolled his eyes before finally accepting it, patting the claw absentmindedly. “Thank you, Dummy. And thanks, Jay. Your complaint has been duly noted. Now hush. Daddy’s about to get chewed out by the tin man.”
It took more effort than Bucky would ever admit to stop himself from letting his mouth fall open as his gaze wandered. Of all the places he had seen since joining the Avengers, Tony’s workshop was by far his favourite. None of the team had a standing invitation to just waltz in whenever they liked. But Tony had made it clear that they could at least ask Jarvis if they needed to talk to him about something.
Tony leaned back against his workbench, arms folded, a wrench in one hand, smoothie neatly balanced on the corner beside him. In all honesty, he looked better than Bucky had been expecting. Not that that was saying much. Motor oil streaked his cheeks while his hair looked heavy with grease rather than product. There was a paleness that only ever came from days spent locked away in his workshop, rather than getting outside. Judging by the line of coffee cups balanced on the edge of his worktop, it had been a while since anyone else had come to visit him. Bucky’s chest ached; had nobody else thought to check in on him? The article had come out almost two weeks earlier. Tony hadn’t been locked away all of that time, had he?
“So. You drew the short straw, huh, Buckaroo? And here I had a hundred on Cap being the one to come down here first. Looks like I owe you one, Jay.” Tony reached for a tall glass of something green and, frankly, disgusting-looking. Bucky’s eyebrows crept higher as the other man seemed to have no trouble gulping it down.
“I shall add it to your running total, Sir,” Jarvis said. Tony rolled his eyes. Pushing himself up, he waved Bucky in.
“See what I have to put up with? Sass and backchat. So. What can I do for you, frosty? Arm on the fritz again? C’mon, take a seat. I’ve got time.” Tony made his way towards one of the workbenches off to one side, taking a seat on a rolling stool and patting the metal surface as he waited expectantly.
Judging by the sheer number of screens up, each showing project after project, detailed schematics and sketches ranging from new exploding arrows for Clint right through to a new kind of unhackable StarkTech airtag, it looked as if Tony already had more than enough to be getting on with. Bucky wondered how much of that was an attempt to distract himself, and how much really was typical for him.
The two hadn’t exactly grown close since Bucky had been invited to move into the tower. It had taken nearly three weeks before Bucky had realised that Tony had not, in fact, been the one to invite him. That he didn’t even seem to be aware that he had moved in at all. Bucky had made sure to give Steve a proper talking to over that one. You can’t just invite someone to live in another man’s house without askin’! It ain’t right, Stevie. That had probably been one of their first, and biggest, arguments since he had come back.
Bucky had expected outrage. Anger, even. Or at least a little resentment over Bucky just thinking he could move in like that – even if it had been more of a mistake on Steve’s part, rather than out of maliciousness or entitlement. And yet, Tony had been nothing if not a gracious, albeit absent, host.
Slowly, Bucky made his way across the workshop, hopping up onto the table without a word. He tried to gather his thoughts, to think of the best way to broach the subject. “You know, I had a whole speech prepared, and I’ve forgotten all of it,” Bucky said at last.
Tony’s eyes flicked up to meet his. He continued to lay out his tools, making sure that Bucky could see everything he might use, just so there could be no unpleasant little surprises. They had both learned that the hard way, the first time Tony had needed to do emergency repairs on Bucky’s arm. That wasn’t a mistake that either of them wished to make again.
“So you really did draw the short straw,” Tony said, voice carefully blank. “You know, I’ve been through enough of these interventions to just fake it, if you want to run back to Cap and tell him you’ve put me on the straight and narrow. Believe me; there won’t be any more headlines like that again.”
“Good.”
Tony tensed as Bucky’s words echoed through the workshop.
Bucky hastened to add, “You can do better. What kind of place just leaks its members' information like that?”
“Potential member,” Tony corrected him, letting out a huff. A wry smile settled on his lips. His shoulders lowered, some of the tension seeping out from him. “That’s what they told the team Pep sent after them. Because I was only an applicant, they couldn’t be expected to keep details as safe and tightly locked up as if I were a full-on card-carrying member. Which, let me just say, isn’t going to happen. Clearly–”
“You can do better.”
“–I should quit while I’m ahead.”
They both fell silent, staring blankly at one another.
“Why wouldn’t you keep looking for somewhere safer to find a partner?” Bucky asked slowly, brow furrowing in confusion. People didn’t just go to clubs like that without having a reason in mind. At least, that’s how he understood it from what he had been reading.
“Why would I keep looking when it’s obvious how things are going to turn out?” Tony said, voice equally as bewildered. Their words jumbled together as they spoke in sync. Tony’s hands fell away from Bucky’s arm as he rolled back, a frown settled on his brow.
“You do know this isn’t anything new, right? This is how these things always go for me. Well, how they’ve always gone in the past, trying with regular clubs and dating apps and matchmaking services and. Well.” Tony trailed off, embarrassment clear in the blush creeping its way up the back of his neck and across his cheeks. He couldn’t meet Bucky’s gaze as he said, “I thought these kinds of places were meant to be more discreet, but, well. That’s the Tony Stark effect.”
“But that’s not fair, doll,” Bucky said softly, heart aching.
Brown eyes flicked up to meet his, a wry smile twisting on his lips.
“That’s life. Hell, if anyone would understand about life not being fair, I would have thought it would be you,” Tony shrugged. “Sometimes, we don’t get the things that we want.”
Words came tumbling out of Bucky’s mouth before he could fully think them through. “Well, what if we could change that?”
Tony froze in place. Slowly, he moved back, head tilting back to meet Bucky’s gaze again. “I’m listening.”
The hustle and bustle of the cafe faded into the background as Tony sat heavily across from Bucky. His face twisted into a grimace as Bucky pushed across a stack of papers, careful not to hand them to him directly. Tony’s look of pleasant surprise soon transformed into one of disbelief as he caught sight of the top page.
“Seriously? You’re going to make me fill out paperwork? Did they even have half of this back in your day?” Tony eyed Bucky over the top of his triple-shot red-eye, grimacing at the sweet, cloying scent that floated out from his cup. He glanced down. That was not the right order. How could the barista get a simple drip coffee with three shots of espresso wrong?
“If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it properly,” Bucky said, hands curled around his own simple decaf. It felt like a dozen pairs of eyes were on them. He had thought meeting in the coffee shop at the base of the tower would be a good compromise: it would get Tony out of his workshop, while not trying to drag him too far out into the public eye. And by picking somewhere in the tower, Bucky had thought that maybe, just maybe, Tony would be able to get a modicum of privacy, despite it being a more public space than the private Avengers floors.
Oh boy, was he wrong. Bucky was starting to realise that maybe the rest of the team weren’t the only ones with a blind spot when it came to Tony.
“I don’t need all of this.” Tony waved a hand over the printed papers – actual, honest to god printed papers – Bucky had presented him with. He took a long sip of his steaming coffee and grimaced. Why did it taste like marshmallows? Who would pollute their coffee like that? “Can’t we just, y’know, talk things through like two adults?”
Bucky frowned. Of all the things he had expected that morning, arguing over whether or not to fill out basic consent forms hadn’t been on his list. “Maybe this is the way I need things to be, Tony. There’s nothing wrong with wanting things written down.”
Tony’s lips pressed together in a thin line. “Are you saying you don’t trust me? Or that you want reassurances that I’m not going to go back on my word? Because of course nobody can trust the Tony Stark to be a man of his word,” Tony said bitterly.
Pushing the papers away, Tony shook his head. He stood, coffee abandoned, phone already in hand. Bucky tried not to let his disappointment show. “You’re not even going to give this a chance?” Bucky said. Tony’s eyebrows rose.
“Now who said that? I’m willing to give this whole thing a try. But…” Tony let out a long, deep breath. He looked as though he was stealing himself for something. After a beat, he continued. “I’m not just going to roll over and do things your way. You need to get that idea out of your head right now. I’m not… you have to listen to me, too, y’know?”
A small smile spread across Bucky’s lips. “Of course, doll. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Fuck.”
Bucky’s voice echoed around his empty apartment. He carefully lay his tablet down, the glow from the StarkPad the only thing lighting the room. Thick fingers ran through dark curls, brushing his hair back and away from his face. He had already fucked up, and they hadn’t got past coffee.
Jarvis had sent across a new checklist from Tony. Confusion settled over Bucky at first as he scanned through the document, before realisation finally began to set in. No wonder Tony hadn’t wanted to fill in one of those printed kink checklists with him. A good ninety per cent of the one Bucky had printed off hadn’t even applied to him – and it wasn’t as if he had picked one of the most detailed iterations, either.
While the sheer choice had been somewhat overwhelming for him, Bucky had still managed to find a fair few things throughout the document that had interested him. But, looking at Tony’s meticulously annotated copy, Bucky was beginning to realise he might have made a mistake. Again.
“If I might be so bold as to interject, Sergeant Barnes?”
Bucky glanced up at the ceiling, eyes honing in on one of the little cameras he usually liked to pretend he didn’t see. He still wasn’t sure if it was for his own protection or everyone else’s. Some days, he wondered if it was a combination of both.
He sent the camera a tight smile. “I keep telling you, Jarvis, just Bucky is fine. Go ahead.”
“Sir has given me permission to answer certain questions on his behalf regarding his checklist. If you would like any assistance, that is.”
A pleased little smile twitched at the corner of Bucky’s lips. Now there was a pleasant, unexpected surprise. It made a nice change. He nodded, smile widening. “That’d be great. I just keep fucking things up by myself, don’t I?”
There was a pregnant pause. Bucky tried not to laugh. For all of his ‘carefully programmed protocols’ around manners, Jarvis sure did know how to make a guy feel judged.
“Well, I would say that leaving waterboarding on the particular list you provided Sir with was not perhaps the most sensitive of choices.” Disapproval dripped from Jarvis's voice. No matter what, Tony and Jarvis both insisted, the AI could sound sassy when he wanted to.
Bucky winced. That… couldn’t have been much worse, could it?
“Right. Right. That… I should have realised.” Bucky let his head fall forward onto the kitchen table with a thud. Maybe he had made a mistake after all. He shouldn’t be offering to help someone like Tony. Not when there were people out there with much more experience, who could actually offer something more than good intentions and shitty execution.
“Would it help if I told Tony I had good intentions? Like, really good ones?” he asked, voice muffled against the table.
There was a pause before Jarvis answered. “Indeed. If I may… I would suggest starting on page five.” Bucky’s screen began moving of its own accord. He turned his head to one side, cheek resting against the cool wood as he watched, crossed through answers and scribbled out notes whizzing past. “Sir’s preferences can be summed up rather nicely.”
“Praise. Light restraints. Aftercare?” Bucky said slowly, scanning the page again and again. There must be something he was missing. It seemed too simple. Too straightforward. “You’re sure he doesn’t want something… fancy?”
“I believe that I can safely say that what Sir wants most of all is to feel like someone is listening to him. That his wishes are being heard and respected. Do you think you can do that, Sergeant Barnes?”
Bucky let out a long, slow breath. He nodded. “Well, when you put it like that, Jarvis. I think I can manage that.”
“You’re sure about this, doll?”
“What, you already changing your mind, Buckaroo?” Tony’s t-shirt – an old, torn thing for some band Bucky had never heard of – dropped to the floor in a messy puddle. Hands lingered on his jeans, buttons already half undone. There was a cockiness to his voice, a confidence bordering on the blasé, that wasn’t reflected in his eyes.
Bucky smiled softly and shook his head. “Of course not. I’m here, aren’t I? I gave you my word.”
“I don’t want you to just do this out of some kind of weird obligation. Is this a Cap thing, or–”
“Ok, new rule: nobody mentions Stevie in the bedroom. Got it?” Bucky said, voice pained. If there was one thing he did not want to picture in the bedroom, it was Steve’s face.
An awkward silence fell between them. Tony’s hands lingered on his jeans. Bucky couldn’t remember ever seeing him look so nervous.
“Should I…” Tony asked, trailing off.
Bucky sent him a reassuring smile. “Why don’t I help you with that, doll? You just relax, and leave everything up to me, yeah?”
A long, shuddering breath left Tony’s lips. He sent Bucky an awkward smile. “Sure. Yeah. Sure. That’s… that’s fine.”
Warm hands fell over Tony’s, holding them in place. Carefully, Bucky moved them back, giving himself free rein. Now that he was closer, he allowed himself to reach out and touch, to trace the web of silver scars and red raised marks littering his skin. He had seen Tony’s scars at a distance; it was impossible to miss them, between mandatory check-ups with Bruce after callouts, and the frankly impressive number of topless photos of Tony there were out there, just floating around on the internet. But it felt different, being able to run his hands over them himself. To see and feel them first-hand. Next time, he promised himself. Next time, he would spend an entire afternoon mapping out each mark and blemish. But for now, he would force himself to stay on track. He owed that much to Tony at least.
“Sit on the edge of the bed. I’ll just be a sec,” Bucky promised, waiting until Tony was moving before making his own way across the room. They had decided to use one of the tower’s unused guest suites; that way, nobody would have the home-team advantage. Bucky had thought it was going overboard, but in that moment, he realised that Tony might have been on to something. At least this way it didn’t feel like he was invading Tony’s space, nor like he needed to justify his own space, either.
As Bucky returned, his prize in hand, the tentative smile slid from Tony’s face. A frown settled in its place. “You can’t be serious. That’s not even rope.”
“Who’s in charge here, doll?” Bucky said firmly.
Tony bit his lip, frown remaining. “You are. But-“
Bucky took a step forward, reaching out to cup Tony’s cheek. “Do you trust me? To keep you safe. Not on missions. Here. Now.”
Tony paused, eyes scanning Bucky slowly, clearly thinking the question through. Slowly, he nodded. A small smile spread across Bucky’s lips.
“Good boy. Wrists.”
The first brush of red silk against his skin had Tony shuddering. It was soft, smooth – almost slippery – and surprisingly chilled against his heated skin. Tony watched as Bucky began to carefully loop the ribbon around him, wrists first, carefully tying them together in a bow behind his back. He bit back a huff; they both knew it would be ridiculously easy for him to get out of that kind of restraint. He might not be a supersoldier, but he still knew what he was doing. Part of him wondered if there was any point to it, really; yet he couldn’t deny the way that his shoulders inched down, his body relaxing before his mind had the chance to catch up.
The contrast between metal and skin wasn’t as much as Tony had expected. Both were warm. Gentle. Bucky’s touch was firm, but soothing.
Bucky urged him back onto the bed, carefully moving him into the position that he wanted. Tony shuddered beneath his touch; it was easy to forget just how strong the other man was, as Bucky, so much like Steve, seemed determined not to let his superstrength out around anyone outside of combat situations.
Tony found himself leaning into Bucky’s touch, a breathy whine falling from his lips as the other man moved away. “Patience, doll, you’re doing so well.”
A shudder ran through Tony, body relaxing into a simple kneel above soft silk sheets. The ribbons Bucky had chosen were red – the exact same shade as his armour. He let his eyes slide closed as the soft whisper of silk ran around his body, wanting to wait and see Bucky’s final design all at once, yet knowing that asking for a blindfold would be a bad idea. He had no doubt that Jarvis – sneaky, interfering, meddlesome thing that he was – must have warned Bucky not to use one.
Tony could feel the edges of his vision starting to go fuzzy, his body relaxed, the racing of his mind for once starting to slow down. The bed shifted beneath him, warm hands urging him to lie down. Tony let out a pleased hum as his cheek came to rest on the soft fabric of Bucky’s jeans, rubbing against the comforting scent of metal and motor oil and fabric softener. He allowed himself to drift.
“There we are, doll. That’s it. You relax.” Bucky murmured, hand running soothingly across Tony’s back. The other man looked like he was drifting off already, each blink slower, longer than the last. Carding his fingers through Tony’s hair, Bucky traced the ribbons with his other hand, pressing the smooth silk against scar-strewn skin. It was a simple enough thing, hardly a proper harness, but it showed off the definition of Tony’s chest and arms nicely. He could tell from Tony’s expression that it provided just the right level of reassurance, without feeling so constraining that it triggered the need to struggle free.
A soft smile remained set on Bucky’s face as he watched Tony begin to drift off to sleep. It wasn’t quite what he had had in mind, but that didn’t matter. There would be time enough another day to get through the box of supplies he had so carefully picked out with Jarvis’s help. For now, all that Tony needed was warm arms to feel safe as he drifted off, some time away from the outside world – and his responsibilities. And Bucky was more than willing to provide that.
“Hey, Jarvis?” Bucky called out, voice barely more than a whisper. Jarvis’s response came just as quietly.
“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?”
“I was going to make him something to eat afterwards. Do you think you could order something in? I was thinking more finger foods, so we can stay like this for as long as possible? And one of those green monstrosities he loves to drink?”
There was a pause, long enough that Bucky thought perhaps Jarvis hadn’t heard him. He glanced up at the ceiling; no matter how many times Tony would remind them, he couldn’t help but think of Jarvis as being up there.
“Jarvis?”
“My apologies, Sergeant Barnes. Sir’s… paramours do not usually stay afterwards. Though, I suppose you have yet to get to the main event.”
Bucky’s eyebrows rose. “No; this is it for today, Jarvis. Way to make a guy feel inadequate, though.”
“My apologies. It is just… Sir has a particular type. One that is not usually as… thoughtful. And as you yourself have yet to, for lack of better phrasing, get anything out of this–”
“Whoever said that?” Bucky interrupted, unable to hold himself back. “Just look at him. All relaxed like this. Peaceful. I can’t imagine anything better than this.”
Bucky’s eyes lingered on Tony’s snoozing form. He looked younger like that. More relaxed than he ever was when awake. It felt like something special to be allowed to see him like that. He couldn’t help but wonder just how many people had been allowed to stay while Tony slept.
“I will have those supplies delivered shortly.”
Bucky smiled up at the nearest camera. “Thanks, Jarvis. I don’t want to be gone when he wakes up, but I want to have something at hand. I really should prepare better next time. Would you mind dimming the lights as well? I don’t want to risk waking him up.”
“Next time?” There was a hesitation, a rawness in Jarvis’s voice that sounded far more human than Bucky was used to hearing. It brought him up short. Was he being presumptuous to be thinking of next time? There was just still so much they hadn’t done. Even with Tony’s short list of likes, Bucky could already think of a dozen more sessions he wanted to plan for him. And that was without considering the dates he wanted to take the other man on.
“You… don’t think he’ll want a next time?” Bucky asked, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice.
“I wouldn’t presume to know what Sir would want…” Jarvis began, trailing off as though he wasn’t quite sure whether or not he was giving too much away. Bucky waited patiently, brushing back dishevelled locks from Tony’s forehead. If this was the only time he would get to see Tony like that, he would make sure to etch every moment into his memory. “...thank you. For taking care of Sir. Not everyone sees when he is the one who needs help.”
“There’s nothing to thank me for, Jarvis. I just want to see him happy. I don’t think he gets enough happy moments in his life,” Bucky said, heart aching. Tony deserved more than the press hounding him. More than the team judging him. More than the public thinking they were entitled to insight into his life. Bucky just wished that he could be the one to help give him that. Maybe he still could. Maybe, if he could just prove to Tony he meant more than a one-night stand…
“That makes two of us, sir.” Jarvis’s low, smooth voice broke Bucky out of his reverie. “If there is anything else I can help with…?”
A soft smile settled on Bucky’s lips. He shook his head. He didn’t want to look away from Tony for even a second. “We’re all good. Thanks, Jarvis. I’m sure I’ll have plenty of questions for you later, if you don’t mind giving me a few more hints? I want to make sure next time is perfect.”
“But of course. And… you are most welcome… Bucky. I shall be more than happy to assist you with Sir’s care. Next time.”