The Intricacies of Mating Rituals
new fic! well not that new but I forgot to post it here
winteriron, T, coffeeshop au, no powers, humor, pining, getting together, sexuality crisis, Tony as the dumbest dumbass ever, and also as the living embodiment of just because I'm dating them I don't know how I did it meme
Sure, Tony had some insights about his life during those weeks of absence. And maybe he looked at everything around in the new light that said insights provided. Also maybe he spent the last couple of minutes focusing on how the loose hair strand that fell from Bucky’s man bun framed his face, making him look beautiful in the messy sort of way— it was fine.
Tony maybe — most definitely — came to accept that he was queer. It was normal for him to be more aware of his male friends’ attractiveness. It didn’t mean anything, like that he had feelings or— it didn’t.
read below the cut or on AO3
Going inside, Tony felt jittery and restless, even though there was no reason to. It was familiar. It was usual. He spent so much time in the cafe during the last five years that he knew it by heart, every nook and cranny. He remembered what area of the floor creaked and which coffee machine glitched after being left alone for a while and what tables had the most comfortable chairs. It shouldn’t feel weird. It shouldn’t feel like he was walking in for the first time — or for the first time in years. He wasn’t around for a couple of weeks max — there were periods of time he was absent for more.
It shouldn’t feel weird to see Bucky.
Bucky, who was at the counter, talking to a customer, when he saw Tony coming in and lit up, smiling, and showed two fingers covertly — their code for two espresso shots. Tony smiled back — it probably looked a bit wobbly — and sat at his usual table in the corner, glad to be grounded.
It was fine. Everything was fine.
Tony came to the cafe to see his friend, the way he did numerous times before. Nothing weird about it.
Sure, Tony had some insights about his life during those weeks of absence. And maybe he looked at everything around in the new light that said insights provided. Also maybe he spent the last couple of minutes focusing on how the loose hair strand that fell from Bucky’s man bun framed his face, making him look beautiful in the messy sort of way— it was fine.
Tony maybe — most definitely — came to accept that he was queer. It was normal for him to be more aware of his male friends’ attractiveness. It didn’t mean anything, like that he had feelings or— it didn’t.
(No matter what Pepper said. Sure, she usually turned out to be right — a quality which Tony both found annoying and treasured in good measure — but usually didn’t mean always. And she wasn’t even—
He came to her that first morning, horribly hungover and on the verge of panic, his mind stuck on the experience from last night — awkward handjobs with the guy he didn’t even remember the face of that somehow felt better than any sex he had before in his life. He came to her, as he always did at the prospect of dealing with feelings and emotions and identity and all that stuff, and he asked if she thought he was queer, masking the question as a joke, and she said:
“Is this about you wanting to marry your Hot Barista again?”
And then Tony said “what”, and Pepper told him that he, apparently, keeps thinking of ways to propose to Bucky whenever he’s wasted.
Perfect start to that particular soul-searching conversation, what can you say.)
Now Bucky looked from the line at Tony, face quickly changing from his customer service mask to a slightly exasperated smile. Tony felt his knees going weak. It was probably the iron deficiency.
Anyway. The fact that Tony was queer didn’t mean that he was in love with his incredibly beautiful, intelligent, kind, and funny friend, okay? Plus, Bucky didn’t date. He never had a boyfriend in all the years Tony knew him. Asking him out would be an awkward fest for both of them.
Tony sighed.
His phone that he was mindlessly fiddling with for the last few minutes lit up with email notifications. He hid it and opened the chat with Pepper, trying to distract himself with work, maybe, or with annoying her at least, but stopped, seeing the last text from her.
Weren’t you done with dating people you didn’t like? Ask him out.
The text stared at him with all the judgment the soulless letters could have. It was very judgy. Pepper was very judgy, thinking that she knew everything about what Tony was feeling and getting ideas about his supposed crush on Bucky. It wasn’t right. Tony himself didn’t know shit about his feelings.
“Hey, stranger,” came the voice, surprisingly close, making Tony jump a little and abruptly turn to the sound. “You okay?”
It was Bucky, standing right there, with a concerned note in his voice at the last words.
He was really tall, and his eyes, fixed on Tony, were the color of a stormy ocean, Tony thought. Then cursed in his head, because honestly, it was ridiculous — he was ridiculous. You have a guy touch your dick once, and now what — can’t even function around a pretty man?
“Um, yes, hi, sorry, didn’t see you coming. Is that for me? Please tell me that’s for me, I needed your coffee, like, a week ago.”
Tony made grabby hands at him.
Incessant talking usually dealt well with any nervousness he had. Not that he was nervous at that moment. He had no reason to.
Bucky smiled, gave him the coffee, and sat beside him, making an exaggerated pantomime of fucking-finally-I-can-sit.
“Tough day?”
“I’m very appreciative of my customers,” Bucky said in a deadpan voice. “Their very reasonable demands and understandable attitude make me very grateful for my work.”
Tony scoffed and relaxed, and it was actually fine, after. He was with his friend, they talked about shit people did and laughed and spent time together.
Tony missed it. He spent days panicking and fighting with himself and being in knots about seeing Bucky because of some sense of foreboding that seeing him in the flesh would change everything irrevocably, but it didn’t. He just spent the time uselessly — apart from one of the people he cared about most.
“So how were you?” Bucky asked, voice soft and generally interested in Tony’s life. “Any work horror stories?”
His eyes were crinkling. Being around him, under his stare, was the safest place Tony ever had.
Tony chuckled.
“Not much lately. Mostly personal horror stories.”
“Yeah?”
The way Bucky lifted his eyebrow was adorable, honestly.
“Ah. Dating horror stories.” Tony scoffed, not thinking, and Bucky looked more surprised, and, oh boy.
It wasn’t a safe topic, but Tony was lulled into the easy conversation and didn’t think about — anything, really, apart from Bucky’s face, because Tony was dumb no matter all his genius. And now Bucky would like to know why the dates were bad, and Tony would talk about it and mention who did he date, and it would be the whole — remember I’ve been telling you for the five years I was straight? Turns out I was lying. Fuck.
But changing the topic would be weird, and not talking to Bucky about the whole thing would be more lying — consciously. Tony realized, heart sinking, that he didn’t have a good way out.
He sneaked a glance at Bucky. Bucky looked questioning, even though a bit reserved. Probably noticed Tony’s weirdness already.
“Just,” Tony shook his head and slumped in his seat a bit, “I tried blind dating. It turned bad. Not even in a funny way.”
It was supposed to confirm his discovery, dating, and Pepper suggested some friends who wouldn’t blab to the press, but maybe he was pretty sure already, and maybe he just wanted to see what he missed all those years, and maybe he knew the real reason behind the refusal to date before, knew what he actually wanted. Maybe.
It turned out pretty horrible, anyway.
“I’m sorry to hear it.”
That was a perfect moment to leave the topic. It was also a perfect moment to come out, probably. Tony needed to do it someday, and dragging it out would only make it worse.
“Yep.” He grimaced. “Well. The latest one was kinda funny in a horrible thank-fuck-I-escaped-that way. I came late by accident and saw my sort of business rival. Coincidentally, the worst human being in the whole world. I’m never trusting Pepper’s friend of a friend again.”
“Wow. At least you escaped it?”
“Yeah, thank fuck for that. Can’t even think about him without shuddering,” Tony said, voice measured and composed. Not looking at Bucky.
There was a short silence. Tony fought the urge to fidget.
“You’re not going to ask?”
“Do you want me to?”
Tony still didn't look, but Bucky’s voice was calm. As if he was genuinely waiting for what Tony wanted. Tony shrugged.
“It was kinda, ah, a recent discovery. Very recent. Ridiculous, I know. At my age.”
“I don’t think it’s ridiculous,” Bucky said softly.
Tony still wasn’t looking. His heartbeat slowed down, at least.
There was a hand on his, giving him a short squeeze. It disappeared just as fast as it came.
“And I’m glad that you told me.”
They sat silent for a while, Bucky probably giving him space and Tony having no fucking idea what to talk about. Was Bucky waiting for him to talk about it? The realization? Well, it was an empty hope, because a drunken one-night stand with a random guy and consequent days of panicking about how blue-gray-eyed beefy brunets with strong jaws made him feel was not your typical friendly conversation material.
“So, blind dating. Or just dating, in general.”
“Yeah, no, no more blind dating,” Tony interrupted, wincing. “That was enough.”
“You giving up already?”
“Nothing bad about being single,” Tony grumbled. It sounded hypocritical even to him. “You’ve been single forever and doing fine.”
“Well thank you, darling,” Bucky rolled his eyes.
“And I’m not fully off the market, by the way,” Bucky continued more seriously.
“Yeah?”
He shrugged in answer, a bit awkward. An unfamiliar — to Tony — look on him.
“Do you, er,” Bucky stopped and looked at the counter, cursing lightly as he saw Barton making complicated facial expressions at him — as if he forgot he was actually at work — but waved it off. “Ever consider dating friends? It beats the blind dating horrors. Can be awkward, but the pros are— shit, I’m sorry, Clint looks like he wants to take my head off. Don’t go anywhere, okay? I’ll be back soon.”
And he left quickly with a pat on Tony’s shoulder. Tony shoved off the thought of Bucky’s hand being warm and firm and sat there, confused. Why would Bucky ask — did he have someone in mind? Tony didn’t have many friends.
Or maybe Bucky was talking about himself — he mentioned looking for a relationship. That thought made Tony’s stomach feel weird. Did Bucky like one of his friends? He had many friends. Did he want to ask someone out? Was it Clint? Thor? Steve?
Okay, Bucky had an unusual amount of hot buff blonde friends. Was he in love with a hot blonde? Would he want to talk to Tony about it, now that Tony was closer to getting the nuances of being attracted to buff guys? Would Tony have to sit and listen to Bucky talking about the love of his life, be supportive and helpful, and a good friend who was definitely not dying inside?
Tony’s hands were suddenly clammy, and his breathing was loud and fast, and he— he needed to get out of there, so he slammed a bill on the table, not seeing, and ran to the exit.
Fuck. Pepper was right, huh? Tony was definitely in love with Bucky.
Tony looked at the glass door. It was dark inside, so he barely saw anything besides his reflection. His reflection didn’t look particularly good, but he let it slide for now — the glass doors weren’t trustworthy much. Something was weird, however, something didn’t add up. Tony looked closely. What was it— ah. He should be able to see through the door. He could usually see what was happening inside the cafe through the door. A small part of his brain, the one that sent him annoying thoughts like we should go to sleep for the past day — week — some amount of time and therefore was brushed off, tried to formulate some connection between the inability to see and— something. Tony ignored it.
He was brave. He could do it. He could have a conversation with a guy he liked, like an adult. The future of their friendship depended on it — Tony could do it.
He grabbed the door. It was closed. He knocked. It was a little tricky with the package in his hands, but he held the package under his arm and knocked again. And again, and again, and then wondered why he was knocking on the door of a coffee shop, but there was no answer to that one, so he knocked once more.
The door opened, showing hurried-looking Bucky. He wasn’t in his uniform, and half the tables behind him still had the chairs on them.
“Tony?” Bucky asked, surprised and worried, and god, Tony missed his face. “Hey, come on in, what happened? What are you doing here so early?”
Early? Tony was sure it was evening. Eh, not important. He came in.
“Are you okay?”
“Not really, but what’s new,” Tony said, his delivery a touch too sincere for his liking, and pushed the package in Bucky’s arms.
“Wha—?”
“It’s a new arm for you. I’m sorry, I took some scans to figure out that bug you were talking about a month ago, but then I didn’t want to think, so I made you a new arm. It’s compatible with your current setup, and I tested it really well, not like the usual, and it works, no bugs, I promise. Also, I know I don’t get to say that, and it’s horrible and unsolicited advice, but you really shouldn’t date your friends, especially the hot blondes, and they are not actually that hot— anyway, you should— fuck, no, you shouldn’t do anything because I said so, I’m sorry, fuck, this is wrong, and I don’t know why am I saying it, but— please consider dating me instead of your stupidly great friends?”
Tony closed his mouth, his breath ending, lifted his head up to look at Bucky to gather his expression, planning to possibly run away and never come here again, but then everything became black with short white flashes, and Tony’s body felt weak and not his, and he promptly passed out.
Tony was warm. There was general warmth all around, warmth and softness, and then there was a hand on his forehead, careful but firm. Then the hand went away, and Tony wanted to ask for it back, but he was so tired. Exhausted.
“Hm,” he said instead.
“Sorry, sweetheart. Go back to sleep,” came the whisper.
“Wh’re m’I?”
“In my apartment. You haven’t slept for days, you need to catch up. It’s okay, I’ll watch you.”
The whisper was nice. Tony was tired and sleepy, and the whisper let him rest and sleep. Wish-fulfilling whisper.
“I know ‘o you’re,” Tony told him.
“Yeah? That’s good, honey. Lay down your head back, okay?”
Tony did as he was told to.
“You’re a genie,” he told the whisper.
The whisper had a nice laugh.
“You have any wishes for me?”
“Uh-hum.” Tony yawned. “Want waffles. And Bucky. Shirtless. And giving me w’ffles. And a hug.”
The whisper tried to say something else, but Tony didn’t hear him. He was asleep.
When Tony woke up, he was in a room he didn’t recognize at first, and he broke a glass of water that stood on the low table beside the bed while trying to get up and figure out where he was. It woke him fully up, at least, enough to recognize the room.
Bucky’s apartment. It was above the cafe, and while usually he and Bucky hung out at the cafe itself or somewhere else, Tony did come here a couple of times.
It was bad. Slowly the memory was returning — realizing his feelings for Bucky, the consequent work binge, finishing the prosthetic project instead of thinking about the feelings, giving the prosthetic in the least subtle way and— oh fuck. Oh, fuck no.
He could probably fake his identity and run away to Canada. It wouldn’t be ideal, but he could make it. Right?
Tony got up, planning to sneak out as silent as possible — there was another exit from the back of the building, he didn’t have to go through the cafe and see Bucky at all — but froze at the sound of the door creaking. No quiet escape, then. He braced himself and turned around, then froze once more.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” Bucky said.
He was missing a shirt, and — Tony was man enough to admit it — that distracted him for a second. In his defense: abs.
When Tony recovered, he saw the tray.
“Wha—?”
“Breakfast?” Bucky asked, giving the waffles to him, and wow, they smelled delicious. “It’s evening, actually, so not sure about the title, but, eh. Food.”
Tony sat down and wordlessly took a waffle, his brain screaming about what parallel fucking universe he’d woken up to. The waffle was incredibly tasty. Tony chewed it slowly, waiting to wake up again or for somebody to burst in and announce it all a big prank, but then Bucky sat beside him and actually turned to hug him, and what the fuck was happening, and it was the last straw.
“Stop! What. Fuck. Okay, please, hear me out, I don’t know what’s happening, and this is just — absolutely insane, but you have to trust me. You don’t actually want to do that. I mean, waffles, and, and that, and you— I don’t fucking know, you’re brainwashed or something— why are you laughing? It’s serious!”
“What, the genie made me do it?” Bucky said, still laughing, the asshole.
Wait.
“Wha—? How—?”
Bucky took the tray from him.
“Tony, you haven’t slept for days. You were horribly sleep-deprived, and you passed out on me, so I had to drag you here and put you in bed. Which is very worrying, and we’re going to talk about it later. When I put you in the bed, you woke up and somehow decided I was a genie. No idea what you were dreaming about. But, ah, it wasn’t real. It was me.” Bucky shrugged, still looking amused.
Tony stared. Then felt his cheeks heating up. (He probably hadn't blushed since college, but at this point? It wasn’t even embarrassing anymore.)
“Come on, eat your waffles. They’re not as easy to make as it seems.”
“You made them?”
“Uh-huh.”
“You just, what— I asked and— and the, um,” Tony pointed at the whole shirtless situation.
“Uh-huh. Seemed like a good boyfriend thing?”
Tony stared more.
“You do remember asking me out, right? Because that happened. No take-backs.” Bucky smiled shyly. “Okay, I’m kidding, if you don’t want that when not sleep-deprived I wouldn’t be a dick and— please say something?”
“I think I’ve been in love with you for at least a couple of years and didn’t know it,” Tony said.
It was something alright.
Bucky turned red.
“Um. Uh. Same? Only I knew. And it was a different, er, time period.”
Tony blinked a few times.
“Oh. And, uh, you didn’t reconsider? After, well, every idiotic thing I did in the last 24 hours?”
Bucky looked at him unbearably soft.
“Never, sweetheart.”
Tony kind of forgot how to breathe at that point. Then Bucky leaned in and asked if it was okay to kiss him, and Tony forgot to breathe for a long, long time.
