buckytony

– An iPhone? Really? When you’re living with the guy who makes the Stark Phone, a much superior device?

Tony isn’t very happy with finding Apple products lying around the tower.

Yesterday’s drawing celebrating my new phone. I would totally get a Stark Phone instead though if they actually existed. haha

Aw, this is so cute! :D

I can imagine Bucky and Tony having a romantic evening in Tony’s apartment but suddenly, there’s a knock on the door and it’s Steve because he needs to collect some pencils from Tony for sketching. They both panic and Tony tells Bucky to hide behind the couch which he does. Tony opens up the door for Steve and the two have a little chat but Steve keeps on moving around the room because he just does that when he talks. This causes Tony to go into high alert whenever Steve nears Bucky (who is doing all his best to avoid his best friend) and soon has to usher Bucky into the bedroom when Steve isn’t looking. 

As if it couldn’t get any worse, the rest of the gang enter Tony’s apartment because it’s the go to place and since they’re all quite close, it’s not weird for them to enter each other’s bedrooms and whatnot. This leads to Bucky having to avoid their friends very carefully, especially Natasha who has a sixth sense and just knows everything. At some point, Tony has to usher the gang into another room in the apartment.

“Tony, why are we in your workshop?”

“Erm, because I made this!”

“Oh, cool!”

While they’re busying marveling at a thing, Tony quickly tells Bucky that it’s safe to leave and he bounds out of the apartment. Tony closes the door and closes his eyes in relief but isn’t prepared for Bucky to burst back just so he can get his goodbye kiss. 

When Pepper asks about why he’s smiling like a sap, Tony simply says he just feels extremely happy for no reason.

The gang shrug and take it because you can’t blame someone for being happy but Natasha is suspicious.

Natasha is always suspicious.

I love @thegoldenavenger‘s soul animal tattoo AU, especially this detail:

tony’s raven likes bucky’s metal arm just as much as tony would tbh, it’s not skin so she can’t get onto it, but she likes hovering at the edges, on bucky’s scars, and pecks at the metal edge. (ajdl maybe with enough Determination, she actually gets on to it! it’s the one place bucky’s wolf and steve’s dog won’t go)

Bucky looks up from where he’s drying cups when a pointy elbow digs into his side, swatting Steve’s hand away with a scowl. “What?”

“He’s back,” Steve stage whispers, loud enough that Peggy pokes her head out of the kitchen, and waggles his eyebrows at Bucky. “And it’s only 6:48.”

Sure enough, a moment later the bell above the door chimes, and in walks Goatee Asshole in all his douchey glory, eyes glued to his phone, and sunglasses perched on his nose even though it’s barely light out anymore. “Twelve minutes before closin’, that’s gotta be a new record,” Bucky grumbles to himself, then plasters on his best fake smile in greeting. “Good evening, gents. What can I get you today?”

Normally, Goatee Asshole comes in alone to disturb Bucky while he’s cleaning up, but today there’s another man with him, authoritatively handsome in his Air Force uniform. Not that Goatee Asshole isn’t gorgeous—he is, unfairly so—but Bucky refuses to ogle the guy who’s making him stay late four nights out of five. Well, mostly. So he has taken a peek once or twice, but that means nothing, no matter what Steve—and Sam, and Riley, and Nat, and Clint, and Peggy—seem to think.

“Hey,” Military Hottie says, actually looking Bucky in the eyes as he does so. Bucky casts a subtle glance over at Goatee Asshole, but nope, he’s still resolutely refusing to look in Bucky’s direction.

Military Hottie pulls a five dollar bill out of his pocket, and stuffs it in the tip jar, then whacks Goatee Asshole over the back of the head none too gently. “We’re not here for the coffee. Tony here needs to pull his head out of his ass, and talk to Cute Man Bun Guy, who,” he looks Bucky up and down, “I’m assuming is you. Tony,” he prompts, and plucks the sunglasses right off Goatee Asshole’s face.

Bucky sucks in a sharp breath, because Goatee— Tony has the warmest, most expressive brown eyes, and he looks nervous, of all things, biting his lip, and fiddling with his phone.

“I—” Tony starts, then swallows hard a couple of times when his voice comes out croakily. “I— I was wondering if, maybe, you wanted to have dinner with me? Or lunch? Brunch? Anything is fine, I’m not picky. Drinks? Do you drink? Not judging, just curious, I mean, it’s fine if—”

“Are you askin’ me out?” Bucky interrupts, while Military Hottie facepalms, and shakes his head despairingly. “You serious?”

Tony blinks owlishly. “It’s—I—yes?”

“You’ve been comin’ in here for weeks now, right before closin’ time,” Bucky says, maybe a little sharper than intended, if the way Tony shrinks in on himself is any indication, “makin’ me miss my train almost every goddamned night, and now you’re, what? Askin’ me out on a date? Are you for real?”

Tony’s shoulders hunch, and for a moment Bucky thinks he’s going to turn tail and flee, but then he slumps, defeated, expression resigned. “You’re right, I’m sorry. This was stupid. I—I didn’t mean to bother you, or make you stay late. I didn’t realise—I work in Manhattan, and it takes me over an hour to get here during rush hour, and even then I don’t always make it, which isn’t an excuse, of course, I—I should’ve checked. I’m sorry.”

Bucky can do nothing but stare, caught somewhere between surprise and disbelief, and is only brought back to the here and now when Military Hottie clears his throat.

“Let me get this straight,” Bucky says slowly, needing to recap. “You’ve been comin’ here from all the way across town every single day, drivin’ for an hour, because you like me?”

Tony nods shyly.

“You,” Bucky says, no longer able to hold back his laughter, “are absolutely fuckin’ ridiculous, you know that?”

“Oh, he knows,” Military Hottie cuts in, ignoring Tony’s groaned, “Rhodey,” in favour of grinning at Bucky. “I keep telling him.”

I love drawing these two >w> Here’s a quick AVAC doodle for you!!

Steve has the advantage of having been awake and in full control of his own mind for nearly half a decade when their game starts, but Bucky’s never been one to be stopped by something as trivial as impossible odds. He has recovered from decades of torture and brainwashing, for fuck’s sake, he’ll definitely manage to win a bullshitting contest against his cheeky asshole of a best friend.

Economics and politics are Steve’s forte–”There’s no way the national debt’s that high, Steve, are you fuckin’ serious right now?”–but Bucky has seen technology develop more or less in real time while Steve’s been taking his nap under the ice. That, combined with the weird so-called updates Tony’s known to bestow on their household equipment, is more than enough to convince Steve that their new toaster is voice activated.

Making Captain America have a heated, one-sided argument with an inanimate object is, hands down, the crowning achievement of Bucky’s entire existence, no question about it.

But it gets harder and harder for both of them to actually convince the other of anything the longer their little war goes on, and by month four of it they have been tied for weeks with no more progress in sight. It’s definitely time to bring out the big guns, which is easier said than done.

Because despite almost seven decades of separation, Bucky and Steve have fallen right back into their old friendship, and fooling someone who knows you better than you know yourself is unsurprisingly difficult. Most personal things are right out–”You’d rather punch yourself in the face than give O’Reilly an interview. You’re not even tryin’ anymore, Steve, this is just insultin’ now.”–and Bucky’s about to suggest a ceasefire when it finally hits him.

He’s sitting at the breakfast bar with Steve, expertly ignoring the fondly annoyed glares Steve shoots him whenever he steals another bit of pancake, when Tony stumbles into the kitchen, sleep-rumpled and bleary-eyed and so, so beautiful.

Bucky readily hands over his own cup of coffee, melting a little at the drowsy smile that earns him, and blurts, “I’m queer, and Tony an’ me have been screwin’ for about half a year now.”

Tony, bless him, just blinks, shrugs, and plops down into the seat next to Bucky, gently nudging their knees together. Steve, on the other hand, nearly chokes on a sip of juice, and has to press a hand over his mouth and nose to keep himself from coughing it up all over his plate.

And, well, Bucky can hardly blame him. He swallows around the frightened lump in his throat, and reaches across the bar to apologetically clap Steve on the back. It’s probably a shit move to confess your deepest, most intimate secret to win a bet, but Bucky’s done his level best to prevent anyone from finding out about him ever since he was thirteen years old and scared half to death by this new discovery about himself, so he figures he deserves to be cut some slack here.

It’s not that Bucky ever really believed that Steve would react badly–the man is having weekly shouting matches about equal rights with random people on the street, for crying out loud–but some habits are hard to break after so long. Hell, it had taken ages for Bucky to feel comfortable enough around Tony to actually stay the night, and not sneak out of bed and back to his own room after Tony fell asleep.

“Bucky, what?” Steve wheezes, brushing tears away from the corners of his eyes. “That ain’t funny.”

Bucky lifts his chin, stubborn and determined, murmurs a quiet, “‘S not s’pposed to be funny.”

Steve narrows his eyes at Bucky, considering him for a long moment before his face softens, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’re serious,” he says, definitely surprised but mostly happy. “Jeez, Buck, you could’ve told me.”

Bucky shrugs, sheepish. “Just did, didn’t I?”

Steve just shakes his head, laughing, and curls an arm around Bucky’s neck, pulling him in close for a hug. “Idiot,” he says, butting his forehead against Bucky’s. “Doesn’t mean you’ve won this, though.”

“Oh, come on!” Bucky exclaims, batting a hand at Steve’s grinning face.

“You’re both ridiculous,” Tony yawns around a mouthful of Steve’s breakfast, holding his cup out for a refill.

— Can’t sleep. — I got your back.