InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Look out for that TREEEE!"

Bucky didn’t know much about medical things. His experience with HYDRA doctors had always been something he’d done everything in his power to avoid, even under the deepest states of programming. It didn’t matter, however, as Doctor Strange had explained what needed to be done for Stark in excruciating detail. Also, Steve knew something about it. Emergency medical stuff had been something he’d been instructed in, whereas Bucky knew little more than basic field first aid, which was more than a few decades old.

He pretty much considered his job to be cooking, procuring liquor for their patient, and staying alert to any potential threats. He had finally convinced Steve that, after their recent adventures, it was for the best that Bucky was the only one to leave the apartment for a while. He still had Loki’s magical facade in place, and he was able to move about Manhattan without being noticed by anyone.

He came back in with groceries and three venti coffees from Starbucks. He put everything down in the small kitchen and headed to Tony’s room with two of the coffees, one for Steve and one for Stark.

Steve heard Bucky come in, interrupting what he was saying to Tony. He also smelled the coffee before Bucky got to the door and he met him there, flinging it open and all but grabbing the paper cup from Bucky’s hands.

“Coffee! Oh my god you’re a lifesaver.” Steve knew he was being a tad bit overdramatic but after only a short time with their new houseguest he was desperate for something. Even though he knew it was psychological, that caffeine had no more effect on him than alcohol did, it still made him feel better. He was gonna need it.

He glanced back at Tony. “He really shouldn’t have caffeine but hey! Why should he start listening to anything I say now?”

"Verbal jab noted. Gimme gimme gimme," Tony said, reaching out to make a grubby hand motion, with the hand that could grasp anything without copious amounts of ouch involved. He was propped up on fluffed pillows and covered with a blanket that had all the wrinkles smoothed out, courtesy of Nurse Steve. "I need it to cope with Captain Hover-mode over here."

Despite the new nickname, Tony was beyond grateful. It existed just under the surface of his usual layer of wariness and sarcasm, and he honestly did try to sit still...for all of thirty minutes, and the rest of the time he had been fidgeting and restless. This was almost as bad as the time he gave a terrorist group his home address. On second thought, maybe this was worse.

Tony decided he needed to stop having second thoughts, and stick to first thoughts only.

Bucky handed over Steve’s coffee, and then handed Stark his. He’d been kind of hoping Steve wouldn’t be hovering when he did this, but he should have known better. Steve was apparently extremely hover-y. So, chances were good Bucky was going to get yelled at. He glanced from Steve to Stark and then back to Steve again, before he pulled a small-sized bottle of kahlua out of his pocket and handed it over to Stark.

Not waiting for the inevitable scolding, he rubbed his hands together. “Who’s hungry?” he asked, hoping to deflect.

Steve’s mouth dropped open when he saw the bottle. “You’re kidding me! Alcohol and caffeine? Are you trying to give him a heart attack?” Come to think of it, he wasn’t entirely sure how Tony had avoided multiple heart attacks already.

He frowned at Bucky. Tony clearly was beyond reason but he’d thought Bucky was more sensible than that. “Come on, Buck. He’s got concussions--multiple--cracked ribs, and extensive sprains and contusions. He’s on a lot of meds. There could be interactions.” He glanced at Tony, who was being entirely too quiet.

Tony (heart attack waiting to happen) Stark was too quiet, because he was trying to get that bottle of kahlua open with one hand. Even his tongue was sticking out a little, held between his teeth. No luck. Not even trying it to tuck it under his injured arm helped.

"Someone be a dear and open this for me?" he finally asked, while wagging it around. He gave them his best big eyes stare to plead at them both. Wait, no, he squinted at Steve like he wasn't going to let him and stared at Bucky instead. "My alcohol and caffeine to bloodstream ratio is out of whack."

Bucky winced a little. “You know… if your system is used to a thing, it can really throw you off to stop cold turkey. It can do more harm than good,” he said, taking the bottle back from Stark and twisting the cap off easily. He went around to the other side of the bed, mostly to be out of Steve’s reach, and took the cup top off of Stark’s coffee for him. Then he handed him the bottle, because actually pouring it in? That was the line he wasn’t gonna cross.

Steve’s arms were crossed across his chest (though he was still clutching his coffee) and his eyes were narrowed. He really hoped he was adequately radiating his disapproval at the both of them. “That’s a cop out and you know it,” he said to Bucky, before turning back to Tony. How had he thought this was going to go any differently than it was? Oh, right, he had already known how it would go and he’d told Bucky as much.

“Try to sip it,” he said to Tony finally. “You could use a reduction in your blood alcohol level if you expect to heal any time in the next decade.”

Someone had teflon armor when it came to disapproving stares, because Tony noticed it, inwardly filed it away, and then it slid right off him as he alternated looking between Steve and how much Kahlua he was pouring into his coffee. He tried to keep it to the 'just a lil bit' side of the spectrum, and not drink half the bottle right there on it's own.

"I'll sip it," Tony said, hoping to reassure them both. The problem was that he would take tiny sips multiple times in quick succession. He put the bottle aside, well within reach. Although he was sure that the moment he looked away, Steve was probably going to snag it and hide it. "You know, recent events probably aren't conducive to healing either. Look at us. Now we're all fucked. You got that lid, Barnes? Please pop that bitch back on there. Daddy's gotta refuel."

Bucky put the lid back on the coffee cup. He thought Steve was being a little uptight about it, although Stark didn’t have the same kind of recuperative abilities that they did. “It’s just a little. It’s not gonna hurt him more than free falling in a metal can did,” he said. “And liquor does have medicinal properties. Sort of.” In point of fact, Bucky wanted Stark to be more relaxed around him, and he hoped playing ‘good cop’ would help him accomplish that.

He glanced from one to the other again. “So again… I got a bunch of food. Anyone want something? Other than caffeine?” His own coffee was still awaiting him in the kitchen, and he wanted to get back to it before it got cold.

Steve was still a little annoyed at Bucky for not backing him up with Tony. “What did you get? Pizza? Cheeseburgers? Or something with actual nutritional value?” He was always hungry, just as a matter of course, but it was important that Tony’s body--which was mostly human even though he apparently thought he wasn’t--got the right fuel to heal itself with.

Yep, this was going even better than he’d expected.

It was working. Tony actually stopped fussing a bit and wasn't reduced to having awkward stare-offs with Steve, not even knowing where to begin as far as talking about anything went.

"Oh god, I could use greasy pizza or a cheeseburger right now," Tony was saying, his eyes lit up like it was Christmas morning and all of his dreams were coming true.

Or at least they were for the next five minutes, until his brain spit out a first thought and reminded him that his life was pretty much in ruins, with few exceptions. Those exceptions being the people around him, even the odd bedfellows like Barnes. As a show of compliance, he sipped his coffee like it was made of precious dew that rolled off the petals of roses. He was staring at Steve while he was doing it. Ok, so maybe it was a dare stare. Whatever. Don't touch the spiked coffee, Steve.

"Hey," he told Steve, once he was done sipping, "I'll be ok. Not my first rodeo. Lost track of crash landings by now. I peek at the data and shore up the suit more and more, each time it happens."

Bucky had something in his bag of ‘please like me’ for Steve, too, though. “I got salmon and steaks and lots of fresh veggies, olive oil and organic quinoa and all kinds of fruit. Okay, Mom?” he said, rolling his eyes a little. “Anyway, I’m fucking starving, so… Stark, no pizza yet. Maybe in a few days. I mean… liquor is one thing, but let’s not get carried away.”

He headed out to the kitchen to get his coffee, because he couldn’t wait any longer, but he returned a moment later, feeling much better as he took a deep sip. “Okay, so… Steve. What do you need me to do?” he said, nodding towards Stark.

Steve felt like pouting at the ‘mom’ remark but he knew it wasn’t entirely unwarranted. It wasn’t his fault he was the only one taking Tony’s recuperation seriously. He was gratified that at least Bucky had bought some sensible food.

“Well, you’re not gonna be working on the suit unless you heal,” he pointed out, trying to appeal to Tony in another way. He wasn’t sure it would work but if there was one thing Tony cared about, it was his suits.

He glanced at Bucky when he returned. “Well, you’re the better cook… you want to fix dinner?” He wished he had any cooking skills, or an excuse to relinquish nurse duty, but leaving Bucky and Tony alone probably wasn’t the best idea either.

Considering that Tony Stark was the King of Carried Away, it was a safe assumption that the look of wide eyed wonder at the mention of suit repair was going to lead to endless hours upon hours of nitpicking and testing. And no rest at all, for the worst patient in the history of modern medicine.

He did manage a pout over no pizza or cheeseburgers, and sipped at his coffee. He was waiting for an opportune moment when Steve was distracted, so he could tip that cup back and start chugging.

Overall, Tony was unsettled but trying not to show it. It was surreal being there, as surreal as it was to have Steve fussing over him or that anyone came to save him at all. Considering he was still stuck believing it was all him, all alone, with only Happy and Pepper to understand. And Friday. Tony always figured if you can't talk to regular people? Build an A.I. and maybe it would understand. After all....

"You didn't have to do this," he blurted out suddenly, then blinked like he blurted out what he was thinking. Damn, must have been the meds. "I mean, I appreciate saving me and doing this, but I would've been all right."

Considering that he pissed off a few Generals and the Secretary of State? Probably not.

"...yeah, probably not, but I would've been mostly ok," he amended, out loud.

Bucky took a sip of his own coffee again, watching the two of them interact. Stark’s comment was a little surprising. “It wasn’t just us, obviously. But Steve led the charge,” he said, giving credit where it was due. But the idea that they weren’t going to rescue Stark was a non-starter. Bucky wasn’t even really one of them, but he knew they had no choice. It was the rest of the world that had made it an us against them thing, and for better or worse, if the ‘us’es didn’t have each others’ backs, no one else was going to.

“Okay, dinner. Any food allergies, Stark?” He smirked a little, remembering the laundry list of shit Steve used to be allergic to.

Steve still wasn’t used to being thanked. It made him uncomfortable. To him, he was just doing the right thing. “Did you really think we would have left you there? Come on, Tony. Did you see how many people were there? I didn’t force anyone. We wanted to do it.” He softened his tone. “We haven’t seen eye to eye for a while, but I still consider you my friend, for what that’s worth. You were being illegally detained. Ross has an agenda. I wasn’t letting you be part of it.”

"No food allergies," Tony mumbled, while trying to look anywhere else, except at either of them. He barely suppressed a wince when Steve said they were still friends, seeing as it always seemed like he chased off everyone he called a friend, or left them wrecked somehow, like he had with Rhodey. So if Steve was uncomfortable, from Tony's perspective, it was like being slowly lowered down toward a cauldron of boiling oil.

He went to roll his neck to one side in a twitch of discomfort, and grit his teeth when a dull roar of pain shot from one side of his skull to the other.

"I should've listened, but I thought..." He wanted to roll his eyes but this wasn't the time for that. Not until the dull roar died down. "...I thought concessions could be made. Amendments. You know, a second draft, and so on. I didn't want you to go. I could run things, but it's not what I want to do, either."

It wasn't only because he had been dying, that he gave Pep the CEO title. Or let Rhodey take the suit, for that matter. He wanted to sit in his lab and tinker and improve and design, and pay the bills to keep the lights on, and save the world if he could. Sure, Steve probably thought that it wasn't healthy for him to be holed up in a mansion tinkering with things all day, but it always felt like the safer option for everyone else, when looking at the bigger picture. It was easier for Steve. No one hated Steve. It was literally impossible to do so.

"Anyway, here we are," he said, finally looking down at the coffee in his hand, as though it was an object worthy of intense scrutiny. "Legal team's filing injunctions and civil rights violations against the government. Happy let me know he talked to them, and they're haggling it out about the prison break, because that prison shouldn't technically exist according to laws here. Pep's probably so bogged down in this mess, she has zero time right now for my ass."

Two voicemails and about a billion and one texts left and nothing. Probably busy...and pissed off.

Bucky thought it might be something they needed to work out between them and he retreated back towards the door a little. He wasn’t around for the Accords, even if he was intimately involved in their outcome. “I’ll just… go start dinner,” he said, slipping out of the room again.

He wondered about Tony’s girlfriend, though. They hadn’t heard from her at all. Even if she was angry at him, you’d think she would be there to yell at him and fuss over him, not leave the job to someone else. Then again, what the hell did he know about relationships? Or anything other than weapons, technology, and dancing. He missed dancing, actually.

But the topic on deck was dinner, and he started unpacking the groceries and chopping things and steaming things and tossing things with a few spices and oil to roast them in the oven. He’d done a lot of cooking for himself because it was cheaper, but he hadn’t ever really had his pick of ingredients like this before. He knew if there was any yelling, he’d hear it in plenty of time to stop any potential battling.

Steve moved closer, sitting gingerly on the bed, careful not to jostle any of Tony’s injuries. He felt like this wasn’t the time to loom over the other man. “I know you didn’t mean for this to happen,” he said gently. The road to hell and all that. “But whatever happens, Tony… we’re with you.” This time. As long as Bucky wasn’t endangered. He thought he’d leave that part unspoken. “They won’t find you here, and if they do, well… we’ll take you somewhere else until the legalities are sorted. They shouldn’t have detained you, they shouldn’t have injured you while doing it, and that prison isn’t even supposed to be there. Pepper will sort it out.” He hesitated. He wondered why she wasn’t here as well. “You have heard from her, haven’t you?”

Though no one knew he and Bucky were--sort of--together, their situation had made him think more about relationships in general. Surely if one partner was injured, the other one would be there if they could?

Tony's relationship status was permanently set at It's Complicated. It never changed, whether he was single or engaged. It was always complicated, simply by virtue of it being any relationship with him, whatsoever. And because of all the endless amount of stress and anxiety he had put her through, or from him neglecting to tell her things, it wasn't uncommon for her to need time to decompress. Especially after a billion and one text messages to let her know he was alive and safe and doing fine.

That was why he glanced at Steve like he wondered what he was getting at. Not about the rest of the Accord stuff, but about Pepper.

"Nope. Not unusual for Pep to stop talking these days, when I go running off to rocket punch sharks. And she's CEO of an entire company, so it's like a double whammy."

He took a sip of coffee while staring over the rim of the cup. It was a long enough sip that he could blink twice, which probably gave away that he was feeling unsettled about not hearing from her.

In an attempt to divert conversation about one uncomfortable topic into other uncomfortable territory, he started talking while trying not to shift around too much.

"Uhh...I didn't think it would happen. I didn't want it to happen to you or anyone else. That's why I went to Siberia to try to fix it and..." His voice trailed off and he stared straight forward for what felt like forever, before glancing at the door, like he meant to indicate Bucky. "...he and I are in truce territory right now. If you're feeling shifty that I'm gonna lose my shit again? Nuh uh. Don't. I'll get over it. I'm good at that. It's why one and a half star hotels happen."

Steve had always had a tough time keeping up with Tony’s stream of consciousness conversations. He shook his head, sifting through the words, deciding that if Tony preferred talking about Bucky over Pepper, it meant he really didn’t want to talk about it. So he went along.

Nodding, he replied, “I believe you.” He didn’t believe Tony was over it, but he did believe he wasn’t about to attack Bucky. Certainly not while injured and suit-less. He also believed that they were all moving past it, as well as they could. “I’m not babysitting you because I think you’re going to fight with Bucky. I’m babysitting you because you need it, you’re your own worst enemy, and I have some medical training.” He smiled. “Also, I care about what happens to you, Tony. As much as you hate to hear that.”

There was a part of him that would never be over what Barnes did to his parents, but Tony was telling that part of him to take a flying leap off a tall cliff into shallow water.

Meanwhile, he was trying to process what Steve was saying, which meant it had to bypass several of his normal sarcastic remark filters, skip past all of the usual aversion tactics, and finally come to a rest smack dab in his discomfort zone.

"Yeah, you're right. I hate it." He grinned for a moment at Steve, to let him know it was meant as a joke. "But there's not much we can do about my most charming qualities. Even after I'm mended up enough to leave. We know I'm gonna go back to tinkering in mansions, and you'll keep...being the guy everyone likes. Hopefully with a lot less fugitive involved, if I can do anything about it."

Steve sighed. “Not that many people like me at the moment, no thanks to Ross. But that’s not the point. I’d like to not be a fugitive, sure. I want to help people. But I know it’s not that simple and it will take time.” He knew he was a lot more sanguine about things now that Bucky was here and they--well, they were working on what they were to each other, and that was enough. “If you’re in the same category it’s just gonna make things harder to fix. But all that doesn’t matter unless we get you healed up. Which is what I’m trying to do.” Talking to Tony always made him feel like he was giving patriotic speeches at Radio City Music Hall again. He felt sheepish and a little embarrassed.

"Wow, I missed your pep talks. Anyway. The people that know you like you," Tony countered, trying to place the coffee down on a bedside table. "Which can get frustrating, when the people that know me? Don't."

Tony had the habit of studying people with his head cocked to one side and an eyebrow raised slightly higher than the other. He was managing to do so at that very moment, which made him seem like an inquisitive and pesky raven, trying to figure out if it was worth pecking at something or better to fly away. It seemed like a decision to peck was reached when he looked away and huffed out a frustrated exhale. Not at Steve, but at himself.

"We want the same things, Cap." He tried to shrug, but stopped short with a wince. "I mean, with helping people. As much as I try to, I can't run this shit show. Everyone looks to you to call the shots when things get bad. Which is what you're good at. I'm good at not following rules, at thinking outside the box. So. What do you think we should do, moving forward. If it was up to you."

Steve could see that Tony was in pain, and his heart went out to him. He didn’t like his friends, or anyone really, hurting, and he knew Tony’s heart was in the right place despite all his protestations to the contrary. He knew that Tony was trying that olive branch thing again, but this time he was going to take it.

“If it was up to me?” Steve was used to seeing a clear path. It was one of his strengths, always had been, and the serum had just enhanced that. This time it was a little more complicated but he still felt convinced that everything would work out. “Let Pepper and the lawyers wrangle things out while we lay low. Surely this whole debacle will take Ross down for good. And maybe the world will finally see that the Accords were flawed from the start, based as they were on lies.”

Tony often tried to fathom how a former war profiteer such as himself, ended up being friends with the clear thinking poster boy for patriotism. He was strangely grateful for it having happened. Truth be told, he often found he had to wrap his brain around things like how he was an atheist...or a futurist, more specifically...and one of his teammates was a Norse God. In fact, he was never sure how this volatile cocktail of mad scientists, assassins, super soldiers and spies became the sort of warped extended family he only wished he had when growing up. And despite feeling grateful to each of them - even total tools like Loki or Rumlow - he had trouble conveying that. Deeply emotional stuff was hard for him to process, so all he could do was stare at Steve with the look of someone who had seen far too much, far too often.

"Yeah. Good idea," Tony finally managed to mumble out, glancing over at the open door. Too much awkward was going on and he almost wanted to ask Steve about what would happen after Ross got nailed for every single thing his lawyers could come up with. To wipe out the somber mood, he raised his voice up as loud as he could muster in the hopes that Bucky could hear. "Hey, Barnes? You don't need to hide in the kitchen anymore. Come back and be my good cop?"

Bucky heard Stark, because his voice pretty much carried pretty far. “Just a minute!” he called back. He had seared four steaks in a pan on the stove, while some asparagus was steaming in another pan. He moved the steaks to the oven to cook them through, and turned on the oven timer. Then he headed back to Stark’s room.

“What? I’m cooking for you assholes,” he said, leaning in the doorway. “Did everyone kiss and make up?” He folded his arms over his chest, eyebrows arched. He was actually really relieved to see Steve and Stark talking. He knew how good it was for Steve to be leading the team, and that was easier with Stark than without him. And it seemed like maybe they were coming to an agreement about the Accords, too.

Steve couldn’t help that his face lit up at the sight of Bucky. He felt like everyone would be able to tell how he felt about him. He grinned. “I tried to kiss him but he wouldn’t let me. Something about Pepper, I don’t know.” He felt relieved, because something had definitely shifted, for the better. He still didn’t know how they were going to get out of this mess but he knew they would, somehow. “Is dinner ready yet? It smells great.”

Tony looked at Steve getting all glowy - that was quite a look he was giving his best friend forever - and then he looked at Bucky, who really seemed at ease. This was weird, but it felt like it was good weird and not bad weird. Maybe things were taking a turn for the better. One could only hope.

"Hey. I don't kiss and tell. You're a bad nurse taking advantage of me when I'm prone and vulnerable," Tony said with a grin. "Yeah, we're good. And the more I smell that, the more I'm glad no one's trying to make me eat soup and jello. Feed me, Seymour."

Bucky said with a completely straight face, “Oh no. You’re getting soup. The steaks are for me and Steve. You’re on a liquid diet, aren’t you?” Then he smirked. “Are we all eating in here? Do we need to cut up the invalid’s food for him? You need us to feed you?” he asked. Bucky was not the fussing kind. He was the ball busting kind.

He looked over at Steve and saw the look on his face, and his heart lurched a little. “You better come help, because I might be the cook, but I’m not the damn waitress,” he said, smiling back at him.

Steve had been watching Tony’s face as Bucky tried to convince him he was getting soup. It had been priceless. He finally spoke up. “I’ll be the waitress, but I draw the line at feeding him.” He looked around. “We could drag a table in so we could all eat in here.” He looked up at Tony. “I mean if you don’t want us to leave you alone for a bit.” He wasn’t quite sure how to read Tony any more. He didn’t want to push his luck on their newfound truce.

Open mouthed disgust was the perfect way to describe Tony's first expression, but that all too easily shifted back into giving them both a sarcastic eye roll and a raised middle finger. He would have raised both middle fingers, if it wouldn't hurt like hell.

It wasn't that he didn't notice...something...going on, but more than he didn't want to interrupt...whatever...that something might be. Best bud bonding? Brotherly backpatting? Glowy Steve glowing at his long lost Bucky Barnes? Tony wasn't sure what it was, but he didn't want to impose, even if Steve was probably going to say no and those two would lob a table into that room anyway.

"Ok, Mr. and Mrs. Brady. You don't have to move furniture around for a sit down dinner together. I can count all the times I had dinner with dad on one hand. Thanksgiving was torture." He screwed up his face into an over-exaggerated spasm, to convey that the mere thought of that was enough to give him a stroke. "If you're not gonna to let me get out of bed? Give me a laptop so I can work with the one good hand I have left to type with. I'll eat while I do that."

And make a fantastic mess.

Bucky could see that Stark was going to continue to be a handful. “Mmhm,” he said, trying not to wince at the mention of Howard. “All right. Here’s how it’s gonna be. You have to put up with us until after you have your next meds, and then you can be alone with your laptop, fair enough?” he said, though it really wasn’t a question.

He heard the buzzer go off and he straightened up. “Put something on the television that’s not Neil Degrasse-Tyson or C-SPAN and we’ll just eat together like civilized people. With beer and sports and very little conversation.” And with that, he returned to the kitchen to get three plates put together (and cut up Tony’s steak because that would probably be difficult one-handed).

Steve smiled and watched Bucky go, then realized what he was doing and focused on Tony. Who was looking far too interested in something else. “You heard the man. I’ll go drag the table in here and get those beers. Can you handle the entertainment?” He nodded at the TV. “I think the remote is around here somewhere.” He didn’t think Tony was really the TV watching type, though he could probably star in his own reality show. No, no one would believe it.

He busied himself carrying in a table and chairs. He still felt like they were all walking on eggshells but it was getting a little better.

“You need me to carry anything, Buck?” he called out toward the kitchen. It was all weirdly domestic and kind of nice.

Too late. Tony had his mouth open to reply, but Steve left the room and then he was busy, inevitably carrying in the table and chairs. He squinted at Steve and then at the open door where Bucky was cooking, and then he squinted at Steve again.

"Uh huh." Tony somewhat managed to sit up a little more, because his brain was putting two and two together. He was concentrating less on invasive armor upgrades and Russian password retrieval, and more on what he hadn't quite put his thumb on, as far as what was going on. They were pretty chummy. Steve Rogers was super chummy. Might as well see if his theory was a sound one, by use of applied sarcasm. "That table's missing something. Hey, Barnes? You might want to bring in some candles and roses, too."

He looked right at Steve, with the same sort of intense squint he gave Bruce Banner, right after poking him on the helicarrier to see if he would turn big and green. Because Tony is a super good friend that way.

Bucky came in with three plates, despite having complained about being a waitress. He put them all down on the table, then walked around the bed to give Stark his. “If we were going on a date, it wouldn’t be in some other guy’s bedroom,” he said simply. He pulled the silverware out of his back pocket and handed Tony a fork. “You good?” he asked. He gave Steve a quick glance to see if he was taking Stark’s bait.

Steve’s complexion always betrayed him. He knew his face was going pink; he could feel it. Nevertheless, he tried to ignore it, laughing and avoiding Bucky’s eye lest he make it even worse. “Strange said we should keep anything flammable away from you,” he said, deflecting because clearly Bucky didn’t want to be public--or semi-public, anyway--with whatever they were. “Also anything pointy.” He felt a little disappointed, though. Was Bucky ashamed of him?

He sat down at the table and arranged the silverware just for something to do with his hands.

Was that pink? Was there pink there? Tony's face went from intense squinty to that look he got whenever Pep whispered naughty things in his ear before she left for a meeting. His eyes darted quickly over to Barnes, who was acting completely flat ass normal about everything, and Tony quickly concluded that whatever was going on might be one-sided, and he should maybe try that tact thing out while he studied things further.

"Oh yeah, guess that's true. And, uhh, Strange would say that. I don't know what all his bias is about," Tony said, taking a fork and plate that were offered to him. Before he started eating, he tried to change the subject so Steve wouldn't feel the burn of awkwardness for too long. He picked up the remote and started flipping through the channels. "I dunno what you like to watch. History Channel? Could get nostalgic. I bet Thor binge watches Vikings and thinks of the good ol' days."

Bucky wasn’t sure about Steve’s reaction. Something seemed off, and he wasn’t sure what it was. It seemed like Steve got the reference, because he was clearly blushing, but he just… glossed right over it. Maybe him and Stark didn’t have a teasing sort of relationship where they could talk back to each other. Whatever it was, Steve seemed uncomfortable about it. Maybe he didn’t want Stark to know that they were sort of together. Wasn’t that one of the only good damn things about surviving into the 21st century, though? Being able to tell people that you were full-fledged gay in love?

“Anything but the news,” he said, helping himself to one of the beers. He sat down at the table and tried to catch Steve’s eye, tapping against his foot under the table.

“Aren’t the Olympics going on?” Steve asked, feeling his blush deepen as he felt Bucky’s foot under the table. He didn’t look at Bucky, though. Clearly he didn’t want Tony to know about them and if he looked at him again it would probably be too obvious. He’d gone from cautious optimism about his and Tony’s status to despondent reflection. He should be happy that Bucky wanted him at all. They hadn’t had any discussion yet about what they were doing, so this was all premature. He was overreacting but he couldn’t help it.

"Yep. Olympics." Tony could have sworn there was more than one elephant in the room, but he was too busy flicking through channels trying his darndest to ignore them. Which isn't going to last long, considering his brain to mouth filter was nonexistent. He was fit to burst, if not for the fact that he didn't want to trainwreck any progress that he and Steve made in mending broken fences.

He all but threw the remote onto the bed and picked up the fork, stabbing it into a bite of steak. This was followed by a whole lot of chewing, because his train of thought consisted of: 'Holy crap, please keep my mouth busy before I start dropping stupid hints and Steve gets so embarrassed he grabs a shield and jumps out a window to escape. Oh my god, I am going to explode. Maybe I should say something if that gay skater is on TV? Maybe not. Maybe just say, hey, it's that skater guy, and leave out the gay part, but I don't know why it's a big deal, I kissed a guy in college and it was ok....I think I kissed a few guys at parties, and it wasn't a big deal....right, not supposed to be thinking about this.'

Tony tried to concentrate on anything else and tried not to watch them like a hawk. That was why, between bites, he announced with childlike enthusiasm: "Yay. Steak."

Totally normal. Rock on.

Bucky was a little lost. There was something going on and it was going right over his head. Yay steak? “Is it all right?” he asked, looking from Stark to Steve. “Did I miss something?” he added, because subtext was not his strong suit. I mean, they got past the fact that he killed Stark’s parents. That should have been the biggest obstacle that was ever going to come between them. They’d all tried to kill each other at one point or another, and then they’d turned around and saved each others’ lives. That should be a wash. So… he just wanted to know what the Hell was up.

“The steak is great,” Steve attempted, because it really was, and he was hungry. He was always hungry. Right now though he wished he was somewhere else. Somewhere where Tony wasn’t looking at them like a shark that smelled blood, and Bucky wasn’t looking at him like that. “Really good. Thanks, Bucky. You should teach me how to make that some time.” Great, now he was babbling. He stared at the television with great focus.

Oh, Tony supposed that there was a few other things that Steve might want to be taught, to catch up with modern times after being a Capsicle.

"Everything's great. This steak tastes like delicious freedom."

Tony was trying to stare at the TV too, and he took another bite and began chewing, letting out as long of a mmm as his lungs would allow. That was followed by more mmming after he took a breath, and then another, until he was mmm-ing out the chorus of Atlantic Starr's 'Secret Lovers' while chewing on bites of steak.

Oh so that’s how it was gonna be. Tony ‘no filter’ Stark was just going to act like everything was hunky fucking dory, and Steven Grant ‘denial’ Rogers was going to ask for cooking lessons. Bucky frowned and stabbed his steak. “Great. Glad you like it,” he said tightly, pushing his chair back a little to face the TV more. He tipped back his beer before stabbing at more meat in frustration. Well, just as he’d suggested. Beer, sports, and as little conversation as possible.

Steve was a little confused. Tony was humming a song he didn’t recognize as if his life depended on it, and Bucky seemed upset. How the mood in the room had changed so quickly he didn’t understand. He really really wished the beer he was drinking affected him in any way. He could have used it. He looked across the table at Bucky, and because Bucky wasn’t looking back he looked a little too long. He loved him so much it hurt but he wasn’t sure what was going on. He’d head exactly zero relationships in his life and he had no experience from which to draw. “Buck?” He ventured softly.

Tony had stopped mmm-ing 'Secret Lovers' and was staring at Steve with wide-eyes, because hi, warning signs. He knew from when Pepper gave that sort of tight sounding response that shit was about to get real, and a lovers quarrel was imminent. Oh god oh god oh god, no way did he want to be in the middle of that. He had to do something. Quick. Think fast. Think outside of the box.

He quickly looked at the television, where skiing was going on. His mouth opened and words spilled out, as words often did.

"Wow, downhill skiing. I bet that's fun. You know, I bet sliding around downhill is probably a bit like flying. Only you know...more slippery...more hip action...poles to grab onto. Firm grip on things that...get grabbed onto. So hey, just wondering? Did you two fuck back in double-you double-you two or is this a recent thing? Because that would explain Siberia so much."

Tony sat there staring at the tv, looking like a deer caught in the oncoming lights of a semi truck.

Bucky choked on something and started coughing. “Holy shit,” he wheezed. He looked over at Stark like he was a complete madman, which… he probably was. He caught his breath again and took another swig of beer to clear his throat. “Uh no. We didn’t. We just realized…” Did he want to be putting this all out there to Stark of all people? He looked at Steve, trying to see if he looked panicked. “We didn’t get a chance to talk about anything because we had to rally the troops and go rescue your ass, Stark. But I get the feeling that if you know, everyone else will pretty soon after, am I right?”

He looked at Steve apologetically. “You okay?” he asked. He had no problem with things being out in the open, but if Steve did… well, it was kind of too late anyway.

If Bucky was choking, Steve had stopped breathing entirely. He was fairly sure he couldn’t have a heart attack but it definitely felt like one was imminent. He relaxed fractionally when Bucky didn’t seem to freak out, but he could barely process his words.

“I’m. I’m okay. Are you?” He wanted to be alone with Bucky and at the same time he wanted to run far far away. Like maybe Siberia. If he’d been blushing before, now his face was the roughly the temperature of the sun. He needed to cool off. He looked at Bucky because he was never, ever again going to look at Tony.

"Sorry! You sounded pissed, and Steve's being weird, and I had to do something. It's not like I'm going to blurt it all over," Tony protested, feeling a stab of guilt because of his mouth. Which was possibly a first time ever, because he usually word vomited and thought nothing of it.

He started nervously gnawing on a spear of asparagus while his eyes did some tennis match darting, looking from one to the other, back and forth.

"We're good. I said it now so it's out of my system. I don't have to say it later. It's not a big deal anyway. I mean, if I interrupted you getting some? I didn't mean to cockblock your cocks with my jailbreak needs. Eeesh. I'm just going to eat my asparagus so my pee stinks and watch downhill skiing. Steve, seriously get over it? Because hi, gay marriage is a thing in quite a few states now. It's your red-blooded American right to dive into bed with whoever you damn well want to. I mean, I've slept with pretty much most of California. Eh? It happens."

Bucky couldn’t believe the whole conversation, but he couldn’t stop smirking. He looked over at Steve and the fact that he looked like he was going to combust from embarrassment was every kind of adorable that ever existed. “I’m good. I mean, as long as you are, but I don’t care if Stark knows.”

Then he turned his attention to Tony. “You didn’t interrupt anything. I just meant that the situation is evolving quickly, and any kind of… agreement about what’s actually going on hasn’t happened yet. But I think I can say for the record that we’re together. The details of that are none of your fucking business, and it’s for us to tell people, not you. Also, in Siberia we’d had about less than 24 hours of contact, so in between a German SWAT team hunting me down, a Sokovian freedom fighter pushing my buttons, and our little rival gang scuffle at the Leipzig Flughafen there wasn’t a whole lot of time for fucking.” He knew damn well that he wasn’t doing much for Steve’s current state of abject humiliation, but Bucky wasn’t intimidated by Stark’s audacity.

While Bucky was speaking, Steve was physically trying not to slide down in his chair. He wished he was still small right then. In fact he wished he could just disappear. He was torn between mortification and thrills when Bucky said they were together. He’d never so much as dated (if you didn’t count the forced double dates that Bucky had dragged him on, and he didn’t) and to now be involved in a discussion about his sex life with Tony Stark of all people… he was pretty sure he was going to die on the spot. It would be preferable to this.

He didn’t even realize he’d buried his face in his hands until Bucky stopped speaking and the room grew quiet.

“Oh god,” he all but squeaked. “I’m sorry, Buck. I’m an idiot. I… I don’t mind who knows. I just panicked.”

Now things were weirder. He almost offhandedly said 'Hey don't shoot the messenger' (BAD, because it's BARNES) followed by 'C'mon, even I could squeeze in a quick what-if-we-die fuck while the quinjet was on autopilot to Siberia!' (BAD, because they might try it sometime and Tony + germs = "kill it with Lysol!"), but he was too busy shoving all of the remaining spears of asparagus into his mouth with his uninjured hand, so he couldn't talk out of turn. Because those things probably wouldn't help matters. And even if it would probably mean a lot to a lot of people out there, knowing that Captain America was gay, that was one hundred percent Steve's decision. Not his.

"I'm not gonna out my friend," Tony said, when he was finally able to speak clearly. "It's you two, there's no one else here, and I guess I felt comfortable enough to say it. You know. So you two wouldn't have a weird argument. I can't handle too much more weird. Steve. Seriously. It's ok. I'm serious. I've kissed guys before. There were pictures. Sure, I did it to make dad mad, but not even he gave a shit enough about it to even give me a second glance. Or say anything. Which was his default setting anyway. Look. What I'm trying to say is it's really ok. I'm not going to treat you any differently than I did before. Let's just eat steak and I'll think of other stuff. Like if I can a nanotech a suit into myself, or if I can break into servers one-handed."

Bucky felt like they’d reached some kind of general agreement, and he was satisfied with it. He appreciated Stark’s complete lack of tact. He felt kind of like they had that in common, except that Bucky was a lot less hyperverbal. The mention of Howard again still made him want to die slightly on the inside, but he kept that to himself where it could eat away at him as it was meant to do.

As maudlin as it seemed, though, he felt he needed to say a little more about it, for Steve’s sake, and he looked at him when he spoke. “It was a huge no no where we came from, so… it’s an adjustment. Just because we figured it out in the last few days doesn’t mean we weren’t feeling it before. Or at least I was. Then we got sidetracked for 70 years, but what’s that Shakespeare thing? The course of true love never did run smooth or something like that?” He could tell they were nearing, or possibly past, the point where Stark was feeling uncomfortable, but it was his own fault for trying to figure them out in the first place.

Steve had been momentarily distracted by the idea of Tony kissing a guy, but when Bucky looked at him as he spoke something inside him relaxed. It was true. Even if he’d been in love with Bucky ninety percent of his life didn’t mean that he’d suddenly come to terms with actually having that love requited.

“Shakespeare’s got nothing on us,” he smiled in agreement to Bucky. Then he looked at Tony. Time to be an adult. “I guess I should thank you, Tony. Yes. I’m in love with Bucky. Always have been, really. But it’s only very recently that we figured out how oblivious we’ve been. I don’t know how we’re going to handle it. We haven’t discussed it. We weren’t intending to keep it a secret from our friends, but it’s barely not a secret to us. So… we’ll tell everyone in our own time, is that okay?”

His face was still incandescent, but Steve felt a thousand times better about life.

"Yep! That's ok by me. Love's great. If I feel like I need to explode, I'll come talk to you about it. Get it out of my system. I'm not going to need to say it again. Because now you two aren't going to have some awkward argument with me here."

Tony was staring sidelong at the television to avoid further awkward, and idly picking up pieces of steak, popping them into his mouth and slowly chewing.

All this true love stuff made him think of Pepper, and reminded him further about the fact that he never really deserved her, and she certainly didn't deserve everything he put her through. If she wasn't talking to him, then he imagined that was going to be an awkward argument.

"Don't thank me," he added, not even looking at the plate as his fingers tapped around for another piece of steak. "I randomly wreck shit all the time. It's how I roll. Except I'm not gonna keep rolling on this. Point gotten. Wow. That guy just skidded down the hillside on his face. That had to hurt."

Bucky could sense how uncomfortable Stark was, so he knew it was time to put aside the romance until they were alone. “Yeah, not a huge fan of skiing, I gotta say. It’s fine until you fall over, and then snow suddenly seems really solid and unyielding.”

He moved his foot back over to Steve’s under the table where he knew Tony couldn’t see. “Anyone need another beer?” he offered.

“Me! Yeah. I’ll have another beer. And is there any more food?” Steve, despite his acute embarrassment, had still managed to clear his plate in record time. Not much interfered with his appetite these days.

He pressed his foot back against Bucky’s, giving him a shy smile.

"Beer me, please?" Tony said, with a pleading look. At some indeterminate point, he had drained his entire beer, probably when he was trying to avoid talking about things he talked about anyway. "Oh hey, I could use dessert. Did you fucking bake me anything, Betty Crocker? I'm wounded and need coddled."

He lobbed the most shit eating-smirk at Bucky, ever.

Bucky stood up and took Steve’s plate to refill it in the kitchen. He looked over at Stark, narrowing his eyes. “You know… sugar is really unhealthy. I read a whole thing about it on the internet. I was gonna read about alcohol next,” he said, not a little threateningly.

“I think plummeting from great heights in a metal suit is more unhealthy than sugar,” Steve offered with an apologetic look at Tony. Of course he didn’t have to worry about eating unhealthy things. As far as he knew, anyway. He never did get the manual to his new body.

"That's bullshit. I've already established that rum comes from plants, so it's healthy," Tony countered, followed by trying to fold his arms over his chest and a lot of pain reminding him that was a bad idea. "Ouch. Dying is unhealthy. Screw you, Barnes. You too, Rogers."

Actually, he looked ready to nod off now that his nerves weren't in a state of overload. One more beer ought to do it.

Bucky shook his head and wandered back out to the kitchen. He refilled Steve’s plate and brought back three more beers. Handing everything out in the bedroom again. “Is he due for more meds?” he asked Steve. There were some that were meant to be taken with meals, and he was pretty sure it was the one that would knock him out, which was in everyone’s best interest.

Steve accepted the beer and the plate gratefully. This night had been nerve wracking in a way he was wholly unaccustomed to. Apparently they were back to whatever normal was for them, which possibly didn’t exist. “Yes. He is, in fact.” He didn’t need to check. He remembered the dosage schedule, like he remembered everything else. He got up and picked up a bottle. “This one.” can cause drowsiness. Thank god.

"I feel loved. And quite possibly cherished," Tony was saying, momentarily scowling at his phone. "I'll open up and say ahh, if you want to throw it on over here. I've already got beer to wash it down with."

That combo was what he once liked to think of as The Breakup Special of years and years ago. Back when he dared to get involved for longer than...a week. Pepper was the longest relationship he ever had, by far. That was why, the moment he woke up and was finally coherent, he was going to put in another call to Pep and make sure she was ok. Without these two jokers in love being anywhere nearby. It was probably a good idea to make sure she didn't want to finish the job Ross started, using one of her dead sexy high heels.

Look at what a good patient he's being, mouth open with his tongue stuck out and saying "AHHH!"

Bucky arched an eyebrow. “Are you expecting it to be thrown from across the room? I mean… his aim is probably a lot better now, but Stevie didn’t used to be able to make a basket to save his life,” he pointed out. He took a swig of his beer, ready to call this evening quits. He was anxious to be alone with Steve and talk about everything that was going on.

“Just gimme a sec,” Steve said around a mouthful of food. He glanced at Bucky. “I resemble that remark,” he complained. “It wasn’t my aim. The ball was too heavy.” He did think he could make a shot into Tony’s mouth from here but he didn’t intend to try. “It’s not my fault your cooking is so good I have to finish every bite,” he teased.

He didn't have much air for a long AHHH anyway, and stopped with the faintest of wheezes.

"Yep, he could make it now," Tony said, downing most of the beer in one go. There was enough left to wash down a pill, if Steve didn't make him take it with water. With eyes half open, he tucked the bottle in against his side and slouched down, closing his eyes and murmuring, "Barnes, you're a good cook. Hey. If I'm asleep with my mouth open...jus' throw the pill in, an' don't wake me up...before you go-go."

It was clear that Stark was running out of gas. Bucky looked over at Steve to catch his eye and then nodded towards Tony. “You better get that pill in there before he’s too unconscious to swallow,” he said quietly. He got up again and collected the rest of the dishes, before leaning in to speak into Steve’s ear. “We can have dessert in the other room,” he said, then winked at him as he straightened up and headed back out to the kitchen.

Steve nodded, then as Bucky’s final remark sank in he blushed again. “Right. Okay, Tony.” He stood up as he opened the medicine bottle and shook one out. He considered making Tony take it with water, but since he’d already had several beers he figured it didn’t matter. He held out the pill. “Swallow that down.” Immediately his traitorous mind went somewhere else and he blushed more, clearing his throat.

Tony peeked one eyelid open and then reached out his hand to grab the pill out of his hand. He had half a mind to open his mouth and say AHHH again, only to blow a raspberry at him instead. After taking into account that he had flipped more than enough shit and brutal honesty at them both for the night, Tony decided to cut them both some slack and actually refrain. For once.

Pill now in mouth, Tony made a little toasting motion with his beer bottle and washed it down. The empty bottle was handed off to Steve as he settled down into bed for some nice, heavily sedated, pass out time. Lucky for everyone, it never took long for him to doze off when his body finally reminded him that he needed sleep. And when he slept, his entire face relaxed into some semblance of peacefulness, complete with lips that almost looked like they were naturally curving into the slightest of smirks. After all, sleep without bad dreams was a precious commodity.

So if those two wanted "dessert"? Tony was 90% of the way toward passed out and was going to be blissfully unaware of anything else that was going on in that apartment. For the next eight hours. Minimum.