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Chapter Text

With a low, heavy groan Bucky pulls him closer, the hand on his waist sliding around until it’s low on his back and urging him forwards with gentle but insistent nudges.

Tony goes with the move easily, unresisting of the way it presses the two of them together so intimately, hips slotting into place like puzzle pieces despite the size difference.

When one of Bucky’s thick, denim clad thighs presses against his knees Tony parts for him willingly.  He welcomes him into his space, unfolds against the heavy heat of him with a small groan of his own that never even makes a sound.

It can’t.  Not with the way it’s eaten by Bucky’s mouth, hot and eager and dominating against his own.

The hand in his hair, shiny silver metal that Tony knows as well as his own body by now, clenches ever so slightly.  Tugs just hard enough that it hovers deliciously on the precipice between pleasure and true pain.

It’s a balance that too few of Tony’s past lovers had ever been able to achieve and yet here, in this moment, it’s perfect.

It’s as if Bucky instinctively knows just what Tony likes and means to give it to him.

And Tony, Thor help him, wants nothing more in that moment than to take it.

He doesn’t fight the urge.  Can’t.  Not in the moment.  Not when Bucky’s tongue is pressing against his own, bringing the taste of caramel and tea with it.  Not when they’re pressed together so closely, one of Bucky’s hands in his hair and the other sitting low on his back, fingers flexing like he’s fighting not to slide them down and squeeze.

Arms wrapped around Bucky’s neck, hands buried in the trailing ends of his hair, Tony wants him to.

So no, he can’t fight it.  Doesn’t even want to.

All Tony can do is shiver and press closer, neck arching back a bit more in a move that nestles his head into the palm of that hand like it’s not capable of ending him in seconds.

Or, like Tony trusts him not to.

All he can do is press closer to the deliciously thick bulge he can feel nestled in the hollow of his hip and squeeze his knees around Bucky’s deliciously muscled thigh as Bucky takes the kiss deeper.

It’s dirty and wet and just a shade off desperate.

Hungry.

Tony never wants it to end.

So, of course, that’s when it does.

“Uh, guys?”  Wilson’s awkward little cough shatters the moment.

His voice sweeps the heavy, lust filled fog that’s been blanketing Tony away with the force of a hurricane.

In the next second reality crashes back down onto Tony like the cruel blow that it is.

If the way Bucky jumps back and away from him, face flushed, chest heaving and eyes wild as he backs against the nearest wall is any indication then he isn’t the only one.  

It’s only thanks to years of practice that Tony, heart pounding and body heavy with want, is able to hang onto what little composure he has.

Even then he knows that, like Bucky’s own rapidly blanked out but still visibly shaken expression, it’s a paper thin mask at best.

“Wasn’t exactly intending for that to happen when I put that mistletoe up,” Wilson sounds wry and a little bit apologetic.

Which is more than a bit unusual where anything regarding Tony is concerned all things considered.

Tony swallows hard, ignores the way his hands shake just a bit, and reaches into his jacket pocket to pull out the sunglasses he always keeps there.

Slipping them on is like putting on a layer of thin but impenetrable armor.

Sunglasses and the act of hiding his eyes had been one of his first forms of protection from the world and is, even now, one that’s very rarely ever failed him.

“What can I say, Wilson?” Tony snips as he turns a purposefully arrogant grin in his direction.  “I’m a big fan of going all the way.  No sense in doing something unless you fully commit.  Besides, doing things half-way isn’t really my style.  And you know me, I’m all about style.”

Just over Wilson’s shoulder, arms crossed over his chest and expression a cross between stern and something Tony can’t describe, Rogers winces slightly.

They both know his words for the reference they are.

So does Romanov if the way she turn her eyes to the side is anything to go by.

Tony doesn’t bother to say anything else, those days are long gone now.  Instead he turns on his heel and marches back out the door he’d come in.  He doesn’t even bother to pause as he passes beneath the mistletoe that had started this entire thing.

He feels Bucky’s eyes on him the entire way but he doesn’t let that stop him.

No matter how much a part of him wants to.

~~~

Safe in the seclusion of his workshop Tony can’t help but suck his bottom lip into his mouth, tongue sliding across the skin in a desperate attempt to chase down any hint of Bucky’s taste that might linger there.

That kiss …

Tony’s pretty sure it’s going to haunt him in the nights to come and he isn’t sure if that’s a blessing or a curse.

Isn’t sure if he should embrace that full throated burst of warm arousal that’s still churning in his gut or reject it completely.

He doesn’t … he knows he shouldn’t want it, should not, in good conscious, want him, but Tony can’t seem to help himself.

They’ve gotten pretty close, him and Bucky.  Against all odds a tentative friendship has sprung up between them over this past year.  A tentative kind of trust built slowly and steadily over the days since the Rogues had been brought back into the fold.

Which had been an act that Tony had both despised and recognizes the necessity of.

He hadn’t acted out on their behalf immediately.  He’d only stepped forward five or so months after the Civil War, after Siberia, after the surgery to have the arc reactor returned, after building Rhodey new legs, after … everything.

So it had taken him five or so months to make the next move.

That had been as soon as he’d been able to make himself step back and way from everything that had happened and really, truly, focus on the bigger picture.

And once he had ...

Well.

He’d thrown his full weight into the arena then and started lobbying for Ross’ resignation, for the return of the Rogues, and for a million and one changes and amendments to the Accords.

All things he’d intended to do anyways.

All things that no one but Rhodey and Vision had trusted him to do apparently.

Which had hurt far more than he’d ever admit.

Because Tony had turned his entire life after Afghanistan into a ode to accountability and yet no one in the Avengers outside of Rhodey and Vision ever seemed to realize it.  No one had ever seemed to trust that Tony himself could be trusted.

That’s a bitterness that Tony’s sure he’ll carry to the grave.

Somewhere along the way though Tony had been calm enough to realize a few more hard earned truths.  And, because of that, Bucky’s freedom and protection had been included in any deals that might be struck at Tony’s insistence and despite the Council’s initial discomfort.

So, once the hard work was finished, once Tony had shed sweat and tears and blood to fix what he hadn’t broken, Rogers and the others had finally returned to the Compound.

Bucky, control words broken by BARF alongside therapy and his missing arm replaced with a shiny new model that Tony had poured all of his grief and guilt into building, had trailed in behind them like some kind of forlorn wolf.

Tony hadn’t wanted to have anything to do with any of them but Bucky … well back then he’d been Barnes and he’d just always seemed to be around.

Watching.

Observing everyone and everything and especially Tony himself.

And Tony, a secret and a destroyed sternum passed caring anymore, had just taken it all in stride with a biting sort of determination.

Eventually Barnes had moved from watching to small, stilted attempts at conversation.

WithTony of all people.

Like there weren’t others who would give him all the conversation he could stand if he just turned in their direction.  Like Rogers wouldn’t fall over himself in an effort to give him anything he wanted or needed no matter who got hurt in the process.

But Tony, who’d blown passed emotionally exhausted a decade back, hadn’t actually minded.

In fact, after a few half puzzled weeks with the stress of Rogers and the others return eating away at him day by day, piece by piece, he’d almost welcomed it.

It hadn’t taken long for Barnes to become Bucky after that.

They’d built a small, fragile sort of camaraderie based on maintenance on the arm and time spent down in the workshop with the bots.  They’d anchored it on late nights in the kitchen with coffee neither of them drank and shored it up on silences that neither of them felt compelled to break but always did anyways because talking was, somehow, something they enjoyed doing with each other.

It had been … refreshing in a lot of ways, that small glowing ember of something between them.

Tony hadn’t built something that seemed an awful lot like friendship with someone he didn’t pay first since Rhodey had pulled him out of that dumpster in MIT.

Bruce doesn’t count, not after Tony had tried to reach out only to be shot down over and over again.

And Vision well, Vision and his relationship is complicated because they're more family than friends these days now that Tony's finally managed to push through the worst of his grief over JARVIS' loss.

He also doesn’t count the other half of the Avengers in that column anymore either.

He’d thought they were friends, had thought there was a bond there even after the way they’d never seemed to really recover from everything that had happened during the Ultron debacle and everything that had followed.

He'd been wrong in the end, very very wrong.

Then his last, desperate, illusions of friendship with them had been stripped away during the Accords and then Siberia.

Tony had been determined not to make those same mistakes again.

Had been determined not to go looking for that kind of connection again.

So the fact that he’d found it, or at least what he was sure was the beginnings of it, by complete accident, with Bucky Barnes of all people, had thrown him for a bit of a loop.

Because how could he find something like that with the man who’d been used like a tool by HYDRA and had forever changed the course of Tony’s life in worst kind of way in the process?

How could he find any sort of peace or friendliness with the man whose body had been used to kill his mother?

And then what was he supposed to do in light of the fact that none of that guilt had stopped Tony from slowly growing more and more attached to Bucky?

What does it say about him that he can forgive Bucky so easily while he still hold so much bitterness and resentment towards the others?

He's sure it probably says a lot more about him, about the type of person he is, than it does about Bucky in the end.  And most of it would probably be less than complimentary.

But Tony's pretty much fine with that.  He had, after all, made his peace with never fitting in years ago, so this is really nothing new.

Now, thanks to that stupid fucking weed Wilson had insisted on hanging and Tony’s own pathological desire to not show weakness in front of the Rogues, it was all probably ruined.

And really, if Tony’s being honest with himself, maybe that was for the best.

Because, as that kiss proved, whatever it was between him and Bucky might just be more than an almost friendship.

And that was something Tony knew he couldn’t, shouldn’t, have.

Tony didn’t have any business having those kinds of thoughts, that kind of want leveled in Bucky’s direction.

Not after everything that had passed between and around the two of them.

It wasn’t right.

Or at least that’s what Tony’s been trying to tell himself for the past few hours.

But, as always, and as with so many things, Tony can’t seem to help but want the one thing, or in this case the one person, that he shouldn’t.

It’s one lesson that, apparently, he’ll never really learn.

~~~

“Boss,” FRIDAY chimes in a few days later when Tony’s buried hip deep in holograms and schematics for the next iteration of the armor.

He’ll admit, if only to himself, that he’s been hiding away in the workshop for the past few days, coming and going only when he’s sure he won’t run into anyone.

Tony knows it won’t last forever but, honestly, he needs the distance, needs the peace, for as long as he can get it.

Some days he fantasizes about moving back to Malibu even if he knows that’ll never happen.

Too many memories.  Too many things not where they should be anymore.

“Yeah FRI?”  Tony asks absentmindedly as he flicks a bit of trash code away.  “What’ve you got for me baby girl?”

“You’ve missed tonight’s gathering.”  FRIDAY doesn’t sound too broken up about it.  Hell the fact that she hadn’t bothered to alert him of the time beforehand is proof of her still being miffed about what had happened back in Siberia at least. 

She, like JARVIS before her, is a sassy and surprisingly vengeful bundle of code.

“That’s a damn shame,” Tony says, voice practically dripping with insincerity.  He has zero interest in playing whatever party game Wilson’s come up with in order to try and boost team morale.

Tony already knows how well that particular situation would likely play out if he was involved.

“They engaged in the game known as Secret Santa,” FRIDAY keeps going.  “Since you were not available the last name in the pot was to be assigned to you automatically.”

“Of course it was,” Tony waves a hand absently in the air around him.  “Look FRI you can pick whatever for whoever I’m getting saddled with and be done with it.  Just … throw some money at them or something.  I don’t actually care.”

“Actually, Boss,” FRIDAY cuts in.  “I believe you’re going to want to handle this one on your own.”

And then his holograms change and there, eyes clenched closed and strip of paper held up towards FRIDAY’s nearest camera is Rogers himself.  Why he decided to be the one to show FRIDAY Tony’s Secret Santa assignment Tony will never know.

Not that it really matters once Tony looks down at what he’s holding.

Because there in his hand is a strip of paper with the name Bucky written on it in tidy little block letters.

“Well shit,” Tony sighs as he pinches the bridge of his nose.  “So much for avoiding that situation.  You were right FRI, baby, I’ll handle this one myself.”

Chapter Text

Watching Tony saunter past him and out of the common room Bucky knows he shouldn’t have done it.  Knows that he should’ve never taken things that far.

But Wilson had put up that stupid fucking weed and then Tony had walked through the door just as Bucky himself was heading out to go down to the workshop.  They’d paused there under it together without Bucky even thinking about it and Lang, the ass, had called them out on it

Tony had been obviously unimpressed but not willing to back down in front of the others and Bucky?

Well, standing there across from a Tony dressed to the nines, hair looking soft and inviting and eyes glinting with challenge, looking like something out of one of the many, many fantasies Bucky will probably never own up to…

Bucky hadn’t been able to resist.

What’s more is the fact that he hadn’t wanted to.

No he’d seen his opportunity and he’d taken it.

After a year of slowly getting to know Tony despite everything that had passed between them.  After nine months of thick, visceral want churning in his gut and seeping out into his dreams, Bucky had seen the chance to get his hands on Tony and he’d lept on it.

It was only a kiss, Bucky had reassured himself right as he’d moved into Tony’s space.  A kiss wouldn’t ruin anything, wouldn’t destroy the hard fought foundation they’d built together stone by precious stone.

Now, with the taste of Tony, bitter coffee and faint traces of what he’s sure is coconut, heavy on his tongue, Bucky knows the truth.

That kiss had changed everything.

In his defense, he’d never expected Tony to respond like he had, all yielding heat and clutching hands.  Hadn’t expected him to press closer, to answer the questioning probe of Bucky’s tongue with the hot, wet slide of his own.

He hadn’t expected Tony to fit so perfectly in his arms, thick hair tangled around his metal hand, the curve of his waist settling into his palm like it was meant to be there.

Bucky hadn’t expected the feel of Tony’s warmth, of the surprisingly solid strength of his body and the heady scent of his expensive cologne undercut with something faintly citrusy, to leave him feeling quite so drunk headed and off balance.

But it had.

And now Bucky knows that kiss is going to haunt him.

Because, above all else, he wants more.

And he knows he doesn’t have the right to want something like that from Tony in the first place.

Hell, probably not from anyone.

But especially not from Tony who has already done so much for him as it is.

Not from Tony, the man who he’s already unwillingly caused so much suffering.

But knowing that doesn’t stop the wanting.

And that says a lot about the type of person Bucky is these days.

~~~

The feeling of dread that’s been nipping at Bucky’s heels since that kiss turns up a notch when a day and then two goes by and he doesn’t see Tony.

He doesn’t stumble onto him in the early hours of the morning or even see him in passing as he goes about his day.

Instead the workshop’s on black out and FRIDAY is warm but firm with her refusals whenever he asks if Tony’s busy and if he’s still allowed inside.

“Sorry, Sergeant Buck,” FRIDAY says when he’s standing just on the other side of the blacked out workshop windows.  “Boss is on lock-down.  I can’t let you in but I still think you’re a deer.”

Bucky slinks away with his non-existent tail between his legs.

~~~

To Bucky’s not surprise Steve and the others are no help either.  All they do is nag him about that kiss on and off for a day or two.

Steve with his sad eyes and poorly hidden displeasure.  Steve who, if Bucky didn’t know better, seems almost jealous of the way Tony had melted into that kiss.  That’s always a thought that Bucky shoves away though because he has absolutely zero desire to go down that road with Steve in any way, shape, or form.  It’s blatantly, painfully, obvious that anything that might have been between Steve and Tony is gone now.

Then there’s Barton with his half hearted sneering, his supposed disdain for Tony barely living up to its name half the time because Bucky can easily see the sadness and guilt hidden just beneath it.  Beyond that there’s Maximoff with that barely muted look of disgust on her face every time Tony is mentioned and Wilson and Lang both with their half apologetic wincing.

And then, on the fringes of all of them, is the little spider with her considering looks that Bucky knows better than to trust.  Steve might hold her in high esteem but Bucky’s seen too many Widows in his life to ever be so blind to her machinations and shifting loyalties.

They go on and on like it’s their right, like that kiss had anything to do with them instead of it being something that existed solely between him and Tony.  It gets so bad, and they get so decidedly unhelpful, that Bucky decides to take a page out of Tony’s book.

In this case avoidance really is the best idea.

And he might not be HYDRA’s pawn anymore but he’s still the Winter Soldier and those skills don’t just disappear.

Plus FRIDAY, who has an obvious problem with the others, is a wonderful ally in his attempts to avoid everyone that isn’t Tony, even if he himself seems to be avoiding everyone including Bucky.

He manages to get away with it right up until it’s time for the little holiday get together Steve and Wilson had thrown together.

The one that Steve had resorted to leaving notes taped to his bedroom door begging him to attend.

Bucky knows it for what it is though.  It’s an attempt, however shitty, to mend bridges, to ease the tension that still runs rampant through the Compound.  An attempt to heal the divide that still runs so obviously between Tony and the rest.

Bucky’s told Steve more than once that it’s not going to work but, like way too often in their lives, Steve actively chooses not to listen to him.

Bucky still knows better though.

No little holiday party or game night or training session or whatever the fuck they come up with is going to fix what’s broken in the ‘team’.

And Bucky uses that word lightly.

Because this isn’t a team, not really, and he has doubts that they ever really were one.

Maybe it’s because he’s on the outside looking in, or maybe it’s because he doesn’t have all of the fact despite FRIDAY giving him a pretty detailed history lesson on the Avengers.  Or maybe it’s because he remembers, however fragmented, being on a real team.

Bucky remembers the Howlies in stops and starts and knows that, no matter what Steve says, the Avengers can’t compete with what they’d had.

Or maybe it’s because of his training, because of the analytical, dissecting way of looking at things he has now.  A quirk or skill that Bucky knows he’d had as a sniper in the War but one that had been exploited during his time with HYDA.  Either way it’s something that he’ll never be rid of because it had been beaten and seared too deeply into him to ever be erased.

The Avengers as they stand now aren’t a team.

They’re a bomb.

A bomb with too many fuses, triggers, and traps to ever be fully disarmed.

And, what’s worse in Bucky’s opinion, is the fact that Tony seems to be the one most likely to be caught alone in the blast radius when it all explodes again.

Because, for the past few months Rhodes has been tied up in DC and Vision has been out of the Compound on a soul searching excursion that Bucky knows is just an excuse to avoid the witch.

It is, Bucky is sure, absolutely not a coincidence.

So, with his two closest companions out of any possible harms way, Tony has been all alone in the Compound with only his bots and FRIDAY.

And Bucky.  Tony has Bucky if he wants him.  In whatever way he wants him, whether he knows it or not.

Because Tony was and still is adamant about not interacting with the others.  Is still careful about keeping a certain level of distance between himself and rest of them no matter how desperate or frustrated or sad Steve seems to get.

That’s why it was more than a bit surprising when he’d accepted Bucky’s stilted overtures and broken attempts at conversation.  That’s why it had been so earth shatteringly shocking for pretty much everyone when Tony had slowly warmed up to him and had even, eventually, started allowing him down to the workshop for company.

In the beginning a small part of Bucky had felt almost guilty for enjoying that kind of exclusive and seemingly forbidden closeness to Tony.

But, as time has passed, the majority of him has slowly begun to revel in it.

Had relished having something, ‘someone’ a darker part of his mind always whispers, for himself, something his.

And now, forcefully separated and with the taste of Tony haunting his dreams, Bucky just wants it, wants Tony, back.

So, Bucky decides, he’s actually going to go to the little gathering because he wants Steve to shut up about it.

But also because he hopes that Tony will be there too.

~~~

Tony doesn’t show up of course, and Bucky’s not really all that surprised about that.

He’d known it was a long shot to begin with but he hadn’t wanted to take the chance that he’d miss Tony on the off chance that he actually did show up.

Especially since FRIDAY is still refusing to give him a heads up on Tony being out of the workshop.

“Sorry Sergeant Buck,” she’d said the last time he’d asked her about Tony’s whereabouts, “but I can’t tell you that.  Boss doesn’t want to be disturbed so I unless it’s an emergency I guess you’ll have to go stag.”

So that leads him to where he is now, sitting with the others as they passed a hat filled with names around for something called Secret Santa that Bucky vaguely remembers the explanation for and did their best to be forcefully cheerful.

When it’s his turn Bucky looks up, makes pointed unimpressed eye contact with Wilson, and then reaches his hand in and snags a slip of paper.  He stuffs it into a pocket without bothering to look at it.

In the end the last slip of paper in the hat is automatically assigned to Tony and Steve, of all people, takes it upon himself to show it to FRIDAY’s camera all without peeking at whose name was written on it.

Bucky spends the rest of the night in the corner talking lightly with Steve on occasion or watching silently as the others mill around.

It isn’t until later on when he’s finally back in his room and stripped down to try and sleep that he remembers the paper.

He digs it out of his pocket and unfolds it only to freeze in surprise.

The name Tony stares back up at him from where it’s written on the paper in familiar orderly block letters.

Shit.

What in the hell is Bucky supposed to get for a genius with more money than god?

What in the hell is Bucky supposed to get for the man he wants nothing more than to lay hands and mouth on again?

For the man who has been avoiding him and everyone else for days now.

Bucky isn’t sure how he always seems to end up in these kinds of situations but he’s going to fall back on a tried and true excuse.  An excuse that’s served him well in the years before the War and continues to serve him well enough now almost a century later.

Somehow, someway, this is all Steve’s fault.

Chapter Text

A day after realizing that throwing money at his latest problem isn’t going to work Tony’s in a bit of a low-key panic.

It’s stupid, he knows that.  It’s only a Secret Santa gift for fuck’s sake, not the end of the world.

The only problem is that Tony actually knows what to do with a hypothetical apocalypse.

Buying a gift for someone who’s crept their way inside his now rigorously shielded heart is an entirely different story.

He’s always been good at buying things, has even been good at giving gifts when the occasion calls for it.

But, as Rhodey, Pepper, and Happy can all attest Tony’s rather notoriously bad at giving gifts that matter.

Pepper has a six foot tall stuffed rabbit that proves that to be a rather solid fact.

Just like Happy has a set of llama’s that live on a farm upstate.  Happy had been suitably unimpressed but, as a point in Tony’s favor, he does take the time to visit them twice a month.  By all accounts Simon and Garfunkel legitimately seem to love Happy.

And Rhodey once had a lovely weekend in a bed-n-breakfast in Delaware that resulted in him getting arrested because Tony had somehow managed to book him into the only place that was actually a front for the mob.  The actual mafia.  In Delaware.

Tony’s been giving Rhodey massive Godiva gift baskets and tickets to the superbowl every year since then in apology.

So yeah, gift giving isn’t really Tony’s forte when he has to do anything beyond throwing money or high end liquor or jewelry in someone’s direction.

And he’s relatively sure than none of those are an option where Bucky’s concerned.

So that, once again, presents Tony with the question:

What in the hell is he going to get a hundred year old formally brainwashed super soldier assassin who he’d very much like to have sex him up in the future despite all of the drama that’s passed between and around the two of them?

Tony’s pretty sure that showing up naked in Bucky’s bed with a bow around his dick would be considered poor taste.

Or at least that’s the kind of thing Rhodey’s always told him in the past.

It’s still more than a bit tempting though.

“FRI, baby girl,” Tony calls out as he slumps back down into his rolly chair.

“Yes, Boss?”  FRIDAY answers as promptly as always.

“Bucky wouldn’t happen to have a really convenient Christmas list floating around somewhere would he?”  Tony asks hopefully.

“Sorry Boss,” FRIDAY shoots him down mercilessly.  “Sergeant Buck hasn’t bawled or bleated about a single thing he wants for Christmas as far as my surveillance has shown.”

“Of course he hasn’t,” Tony sighs.  The hope that Bucky would have a really convenient list of all his earthly desires just floating around for Tony to take advantage of was obviously too good to be true.

That naked, dick-bow thing is sounding better and better by the minute.

There’s a long moment of comfortable silence in the workshop, broken only by the bots familiar clicks and beeps alongside the Christmas rock music FRIDAY insists on playing.

“My girl?”  Tony finally calls out to her again.

“Yes Boss?”

“You ever going to stop with the deer puns?”  Tony can’t help but ask.  “Just because his name’s Buck -y doesn’t mean you’ve got to torture the poor man with your puns.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about Boss,” FRIDAY tells him sunnily just as some guitar heavy version of Rudolph starts to play over the workshop’s speakers.

“Yeah,” Tony huffs out, amused despite himself at his baby girl’s growing sense of humor, “sure you don’t.”

Tilted back in his chair, eyes fixed on the workshop’s ceiling Tony contemplates his options.

He could wing it.  Could actually go out somewhere and poke around some stores and see what he can scare up.

He could stay inside and poke through some online catalogs with FRIDAY’s help.

Admittedly those first two options have never ended well for him in the past.  Not even back when he’d had JARVIS’ more steadying influence to curb some of his more … enthusiastic purchases and gift ideas.

Online catalogs are how he’d gotten both the llamas and found the mafia infested bed-n-breakfast for Rhodey.  Storefront shopping is how he’d found the bunny.

He could try to build/create/refine something new that Bucky might like.  But he does and will do that on a regular basis anyways and he’s never been good at withholding his inventions from people he actually likes.

Then there’s the dick-bow thing.  Which, Tony decides, might end up being his last resort if all else fails.

Choices, choices.

“Right,” Tony slaps a hand down lightly on his desk and then throws himself out of the chair and onto his feet.  “That’s enough of that.”

There’s only one way for him to handle this whole thing.

Head on and full steam ahead.

Like always.

~~~

Sitting surrounded by a veritable sea of crumpled paper Bucky’s about ready to tear his last remaining arm off and/or shoot someone in the face.  Multiple times.

But since he’s rather attached to the first and trying to lay off of the second as part of his ongoing rehabilitation he’s settled for just being deeply frustrated in the silence of his room instead.

Plus, when it comes to his arms, he’d rather be mismatched than sporting two shiny metal appendages if at all possible.  Even though he has all faith that Tony would set him up with a top of the line replacement.

And that would mean even more time in the workshop with Tony …

No, Bucky shakes that line of thought off.  Dismemberment isn’t a good seduction tool.

Besides, he’s not that desperate.

Yet.

Still it’s been a handful of days since he had last seen Tony and, using those days as a measuring stick, Bucky can directly track the rapid decline in his overall mood.

“Sergeant Buck,” FRIDAY’s voice breaks through Bucky’s thoughts easily enough.  “You look troubled.  May I order you a salt lick in these trying time?”

“A what?”  Bucky blinks up at the ceiling in a moment of confused curiosity.

“Is there anything I can help you with?”  FRIDAY answers back smoothly, completely ignoring her own previous statement.

“Any chance you know what I can get Tony for Christmas?”  Bucky asks, frustrated enough to take any kind of help he can find.  “He got a list or something floating around this place?”

Well he’s not frustrated enough to ask Steve or the others for ideas but FRIDAY, as someone who actually cares for Tony, is fair game.

“Boss doesn’t believe in Christmas lists for himself,” FRIDAY informs him primly.

“Of course he doesn’t,” Bucky mutters as he collapses back to sprawl on his bed, uncaring of the fact that he’d landed in a pile of crumpled paper.  “That’d be too easy.”

Honestly, by this point, Bucky’s deeply considering just showing up naked in Tony’s bed with a bow around his cock or something.

But that would, honestly, be more of a present to himself than to Tony.

Plus he’s not exactly sure how well that would be received.  Bucky’s got a few societal norms still rattling around in his head and he’s pretty sure that naked gifts aren’t generally considered acceptable.

Not that Bucky himself would have a problem with that kind of present.  Either giving or receiving it.  He has basically negative modesty these days so nudity doesn’t really register to him much.

Besides, the thought of walking into his room to find Tony in nothing but a bow …

Bucky shakes the thought off before he can get distracted by fantasies of Tony splayed out and tied down to his bed with silky red ribbons, open and ready for the taking …

It’s a good thought, one he’s had on more than one occasion and in more than one inappropriate setting.

It’s also supremely unhelpful at the moment.

Because they’ve only got a handful of days before Christmas and Bucky has absolutely no idea what to get the man who haunts his dreams and his fantasies.

Which is a real problem because above all else Bucky wants to make Tony happy.  Wants to see him smile the way Bucky’s only seen him smile when they’re alone together in the workshop with only the bots and FRIDAY to see.

The way he only smiles when the Steve and the others aren’t around to see the vulnerable light in his eyes, the softness in his features.

The way that Tony, for some reason, actually trusts Bucky with.

He wants that with an intensity that stopped surprising him months ago.  Wants all of that and more.

Unfortunately Bucky has no idea what to get Tony that could make him smile like that except for, hopefully, his cock and/or an assassination of his choice.  Which Bucky’s pretty willing to do even though he’d sworn off acting as anyone else’s weapon once he’d managed to get away from HYDRA the first time.

He’s willing to do that for Tony though because he knows that Tony would never take advantage and that anyone he actively wanted dead would probably deserve it.  At least a little bit.

But both nudity and murder tend to be frowned upon when it comes to gift giving.

After a few more minutes spent wallowing uselessly in his misery Bucky finally rolls off of his bed and lands quietly on his feet, too well trained to be loud even in the privacy of his rooms.

Brooding about this is getting him nowhere.

It’s time to look at this entire situation like a mission and to go about this the way he does best when it comes to missions.

Methodically and with a mix of laser like precision and brute force.

And if that doesn’t work …

Well.

Hopefully Tony will think finding Bucky sprawled across his bed naked is a good enough present after all.

~~~

Tony’s more than a bit surprised to turn the corner and almost plow directly into Bucky who’s striding down the hall in his direction with his expression set in his patented resting murder-face.

Bucky catches him with an arm around his waist, stopping his forward motion and pulling him closer to the hot line of his body with a ease that makes Tony ache in want.

All that strength.  All that control.

Oh the things Tony wants to have it, have Bucky, do to him.

“Careful, котенок,” Bucky’s voice is a warm, low rumble that Tony can practically feel where he’s pressed against his chest.

FRIDAY, Tony can’t help but think absently, had been conspicuously silent instead of warning him that he was about to run into the one person he’d spent the past few days actively avoiding.

Tony goes to open his mouth and bite out some kind of hopefully witty quip in return but his eyes choose that moment to track upwards and his mouth snaps closed involuntarily.

Because, hanging directly above their heads like a leafy little guillotine, is yet another piece of mistletoe.

Apparently curious as to what’s caught his attention Bucky tilts his head back a bit and looks upwards as well.

Tony sees the exact moment that Bucky registers just where they’ve ended up together again.

His head comes back down and his eyes are dark and blown wide when they meet Tony’s once again.

Tony’s tongue automatically darts out to wet his lips and Bucky’s eyes follow it with gratifying intensity and interest.

All Tony can think about in that moment is how fucking good it had felt to be kissed by Bucky last time.

About how all he’d wanted to do in those moments was to find out how good it would feel to have Bucky’s mouth on other parts of him.  Of how delicious it would be to get the chance to return the favor.

It’s all Tony can do not to get swept away in the memory, especially with the way they’re practically back in the same position, bodies pressed against each other and eyes locked.

The main difference is the fact that, this time, they don’t have an audience to interrupt them.

This time it’s just him and Bucky.

Alone together beneath the mistletoe.

Chapter Text

“We keep meeting like this,” Tony’s voice is uncharacteristically low and rough, eyes flitting upwards to glance at the mistletoe they’ve both once again ended up underneath together.

The sound goes straight to Bucky’s cock because all he can think about is the thousand and one other ways he’d like to make Tony’s voice like that.

“Hm,” Bucky hums his agreement as he shifts the tiniest bit forward, attention locked onto the way Tony’s eyes have gone wide and dark, pupils blown with what Bucky can tell is arousal.

In the reverse of the last time they found themselves in this position the arm he has around Tony’s waist tightens just a bit, metal hand sliding down to rest on the curve of his hip.  Then Bucky brings his flesh hand up to trail his fingertips up the side of Tony’s neck.  He lets them trail softly against Tony’s skin until he’s cupping the side of his throat in his palm, his thumb pressed firmly against the hollow of his throat.

Beneath his thumb Tony’s pulse is beating hard and heavy.  All Bucky wants to do when he feels it is get his teeth and tongue onto the delicate, vulnerable line of Tony’s throat.

Wants to suck and bite until the skin there blossoms into red and purple bruises.  Until there will be no doubt in anyone who sees Tony that Bucky’s had him.

That rapid fire pulse and dark eyes also tells Bucky something else.  Something far, far more important in his opinion.  Something that he’s been telling himself since it happened but is still, nonetheless, satisfied to have more reassurance over.

It all tells him that first kiss they had wasn’t a fluke.  The sheer heat between the two of them wasn’t some perfect storm of adrenaline and showmanship.

No Tony’s pulse, his eyes, his expression, the way he’s oh-so slightly leaning into Bucky’s space like he doesn’t even realize that his body’s swaying forward are all telling Bucky the same way.

He, obviously, isn’t the only one affected by this whole thing.

Tony wants him too.

Good.

“I’m going to kiss you again,” Bucky tells Tony.  “But only if you want me to.”

He announces his intentions straightforward because, despite how much he aches to have Tony, he doesn’t want to take without Tony’s permission.  Not even something so small as a kiss.

Because Bucky knows that desire doesn’t always equal permission.

So he says it straight out because he doesn't want any misunderstanding between them this time.  They’re alone, there’s no one around to stop them or for Tony to put on a show for this time.

This time if Tony wants to back out he can because there’s no one with them who’ll ever say anything negative to him about it.

Not that Bucky wouldn’t have taken no for an answer the first time of course.

Instead of pulling back though Tony pushes just a bit closer to him, a hand coming up to rest on Bucky’s waist and the other sliding up the line of his chest to clutch at the line of his shoulder where his arm connects.  A place where only a few doctors and Tony has ever touched him since Bucky first escaped from HYDRA.

On top of that Bucky has the pleasure of watching the way Tony’s eyes go even wider as red crawls its way up over his cheekbones.

“I’m gonna kiss you back,” Tony answers roughly but almost hesitant.  Like he can’t believe what he’s actually saying.  “But only if you want me to.”

Bucky shifts forward again, crowds into Tony’s space with a single minded sort of determination.  He keeps going until he has him pressed against the wall, the hand on his waist sliding around to his lower back so that Tony’s hips are pulled forward in a shallow arch.  The hand on his throat moves upwards until Bucky is teasing the both of them by thumbing at Tony’s lower lip.

He dips his head down, mind already captured with the remembered taste of Tony on his tongue and how much it’s haunted him in the days since it happened.

And that, of course, is when they’re interrupted.

“Tony?”  Steve’s voice breaks the thick, heavy quiet around them.  “Bucky?”

Tony’s head thuds against the wall behind him and Bucky can’t help but growl low and pissed in the back of his throat at the interruption even as his eyes zero in on the way Tony looks with his head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut.

Even if this isn’t the situation Bucky’s been daydreaming about for months now it’s still an undeniably entrancing sight.

“What Stevie?” Bucky bites the question out without moving away from Tony.

Tony who, to Bucky’s surprise, also seems perfectly content to stay right where he is even if his eyes are tight with irritation when he finally opens them again.

“What’s going on?”  Steve asks weakly, like he’s having a hard time believing what he’s obviously seeing.

“You’re interrupting,” Tony pipes up as he untangles the fingers of his hand from the shoulder of Bucky’s shirt and points up towards the ceiling.

Bucky turns his head far enough that he can see the expression on Steve’s face when he looks up at what Tony’s gesturing at and sees the mistletoe.

He doesn’t like the brief flash of jealousy and sadness that he sees flitter across Steve’s expression at the confirmation about what they were about to do but Bucky also isn’t willing to back away from Tony either.

Not unless Tony wants him to.

Because he loves Steve, he really does.  Too much has passed between them for him not to.  Steve’s done a lot for Bucky even though he never asked him to and never would have asked him to if given the choice.

So Bucky knows that, objectively, he probably owes Steve a lot.

But he won’t give him this.  Won’t back away from Tony, from the first person he’s wanted in decades, just because Steve had ruined his chance while he still had it.

Especially not when Tony himself is so clearly not interested in rekindling the almost that had obviously been between the two of them in the past.

“Oh,” Steve presses the word out.  “You know you don’t … it isn’t …”

Steve, Bucky realizes, is trying to give them an out but can’t seem to stop tripping over his own tongue.

It’d be almost sweet if Bucky didn’t know that his motivation lay in a decidedly more personal realm than giving two people an out to avoid unwanted holiday kissing traditions.

“Steve,” Bucky twists a little so that he can see Steve clearly instead of the side eye over his shoulder he’s been using.  Steve’s mouth snaps shut but his eyes are still wide when he stares back at him.  Bucky resolutely ignores the slight hint of pleading he can see in his expression.  “Unless you wanna see me put my tongue in Tony’s mouth I suggest you get out of here.”

Bucky doesn’t bother to wait and see if Steve takes his advice.

Instead he turns back to Tony who’s staring just past his shoulder, one brow arched high and eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

“Eyes on me котенок,” Bucky murmurs to him lowly.

He enjoys the way Tony’s eyes snap back to his, that red flush on his cheeks coming back full force.

This time when he dips his head down he doesn’t pause, doesn’t hesitate.

Instead he follows through and presses his mouth against Tony’s.

Finally.

And Tony?

Well Tony opens for him just as swiftly, just as eagerly as he had the first time.  Meets Bucky’s tongue with his own without any hesitation.  Like he too has been counting down the minutes in the back of his head until they could, somehow, find a reason to do this again.

Bucky likes to think so.  Likes to believe that Tony wants him just as much as Bucky wants him.  Wants him in a way that goes beyond the physical and right down to core of him in a way that aches.

Tony tastes like coffee and a hint of something green, most likely those shakes that DUM-E is always trying and failing to make for him before U takes over.

Bucky likes it just as much as he had the first time though, because it’s uniquely Tony.

He angles his head to take the kiss deeper, hand sliding upwards to tangle in Tony’s hair and tug.

Tony groans in answer to the move, a harsh and desperate sound against his mouth.

What little restraint Bucky has been holding onto flies directly out of the nearest window.

He surges forward, the hand on Tony’s waist sliding down so that he can finally palm that glorious ass like he’s wanted to since the first time he saw Tony in a pair of low riding sweatpants.

He’s dimly aware of the sound of running feet getting fainter in the distance but Bucky can’t, won’t focus on that.  Not when he’s achingly hard, cock thick and long against his thigh as he presses against the answering bulge in Tony’s slacks.

Bucky’s too focused on the way that Tony opens to him so so sweetly, meeting his heat with fire of his own.

It’s Bucky’s turn to groan when Tony’s hips twitch forwards to rub against Bucky’s like he can’t stay still.

He meets Tony’s moves with his own because he’s helpless to do anything else.

He also can’t help the low displeased sound he makes when Tony breaks the kiss.

But he needn’t have worried.

“More,” Tony gasps as he shifts to clench both hands in the fabric of Bucky’s shirt.  Bucky takes the opportunity to dip down and bite at the curve of Tony’s throat.

“Fuck,” Tony practically keens.  “Bed.  Find a bed and fuck me.”

“Ебать,” Bucky half snarls, half pleads, “like this.  Like this, котенок.”

Because Bucky’s not going to move away from this wall, not right now.  He’s not going to move and take the chance that something or someone else will interrupt them.

“Yeah,” Tony pants, “yes, fuck yes.”

So instead Bucky moves until both of his hands are clamped down on Tony’s hips.  He lifts him upwards in one fluid move, bracing Tony against the wall as he steps further into the vee of Tony’s thighs.

Tony wraps his legs around him without any further prompting, Bucky’s hand coming down to brace them, and they both hiss out a breath at the way the position leaves the two of them pressed together.

“Come on,” Tony mutters as he leans his shoulders back against the wall, seemingly not at all concerned with not having his feet on the floor.

The way he trusts Bucky to hold his weight just makes Bucky want him more if that’s at all possible.

So Bucky rewards him with a hard grind of his hips that makes Tony’s breath shudder and catch in his throat, hands clawing desperately at Bucky’s shoulders again.

“Look at you,” Bucky leans forward to rasp the words out into Tony’s ear, voice low and dark even as he rocks their hips together.  “So perfect.  Knew you would be.”

“Oh god, you bastard,” Tony twists his hips downwards as best he can, movements stilted by the hold Bucky has on his thighs.  “Fuck.”

When Tony surges upwards as best he can to catch his mouth in a desperate kiss Bucky just laughs and gives him exactly what he wants.

They’re panting soon enough, tongues sliding and pressing, teeth nipping hard enough to make them each gasp and try to press closer.

Pressed against him as he is Bucky can feel the exact moment Tony’s breath stutters, the way his hips jerk and lose a bit of the smooth rhythm they’d managed to find between the two of them.

He’s close, Bucky can tell, and all he wants in that moment is to see Tony break apart in his arms.

So he slides one hand up the line of Tony’s thigh and towards the back of his pants, metal fingers finding the cleft of Tony’s ass with ease and then pressing forwards.

“Please,” Tony whines, high and desperate, when Bucky presses the pad of his finger against his still covered hole.  “Bucky, please.”

Helpless to do anything but give Tony what he wants Bucky surrenders himself even further to the blaze between them.  His hips find a steady, punishing rhythm as he basically fucks Tony through their clothes, hands flexing and fingers pressing intently as he chases that ever tightening coil of heat that’s sitting low and heavy at the base of his spine.

“Perfect,” Bucky groans out again against Tony’s temple, unable to help himself as he presses his finger harder against Tony’s hole, hips rolling as he rubs the thick line of his cock against Tony’s own.  “So perfect котенок, so sweet.  Now give it to me.  Come on.  You’re almost there.”

The way Tony jerks, head thrown back and face twisted in bliss, is the most beautiful thing Bucky’s ever seen.

It’s enough to send Bucky tumbling over the edge directly behind him, vision whiting out and body going rigid as he spills into his pants with a ragged groan.

He slumps forward, face pressed against Tony’s throat and satisfaction arching through his body like small electrical surges.

Perfect.

~~~

Come cooling in his pants, limbs limp and generally just blissed out, Tony hangs there against the wall, perfectly content to let Bucky keep holding him up for as long as he wants to.

And, if the way Bucky stays pressed against him, breathing slowly evening out as he mouths lazily at his throat is anything to go by, Tony’s not the only one perfectly willing to stay where they are.

Finally though Bucky stirs.  He pulls back from where he’s been lipping at Tony’s throat in a move that makes Tony give out an automatic whine of displeasure.

Bucky’s eyes are heavy lidded, his hair’s wild from Tony’s fingers, and his mouth’s turned up in the familiar smug smirk of the satisfied.

It is, overall, a damn good look on him.

Then Tony watches in awe as something soft and achingly tender flits across Bucky’s expression.

“Мой mеханик,” Bucky murmurs as he stares down at him, voice heavy with what can only be called affection.

When Bucky dips down to kiss him again, sweet and soft, Tony can’t help the way his toes curl in his shoes.

Tony realizes then, with a cautious kind of hope, that this thing he feels for Bucky, this ache that goes so far beyond the physical, might just be reciprocated after all.

That what he’d thought they’d been building between them might not have been friendship but it might not have been simply lust either.

Because this, the pet names, the possessiveness, the soft light in Bucky’s eyes, the sweetness of his kiss?

All of that just seems like so much more.

And Tony?

Thor help him, but all he wants to do is to grab hold of all of it with both hands and never look back.

Because he’s already lost so much, had it ripped and snatched from his hands, has had to watch it leave him willingly behind.

So guilt and drama and everything else aside, Tony thinks he’s hit the point where he just … doesn’t care anymore.

He wants Bucky.

Wants all of him, body and heart.

So if Bucky wants him back then Tony’s not going to fight him on it.

For once Tony’s going to do his damndest not to sabotage himself.

Still the idea of putting himself out there yet again is more than a bit unsettling so Tony does what he normally does in situations like this.

He tries to bullshit his way through it.

“Mistletoe,” Tony starts off, trying for glib but more than aware of how fucked out and laguid he sounds.  And all from something that really didn’t qualify as more than heavy petting in his opinion.  “One hell of a drug huh?”

“Your mouth is a drug,” Bucky tells him straight faced and even toned like it’s not the cheesiest fucking thing Tony’s ever heard.

Tony’s only a little ashamed of the way it makes him melt even further into the hands that are still effortlessly holding him up against the wall.

“You’re a fucking sap,” Tony mutters.

“I’d rather just be yours,” Bucky says seriously.  “If you’ll have me.”

When Tony looks back up at him his expression is serious, eyes heavy and intent.

This, Tony realizes, is going to be A Conversation™.  LIke they’re not both standing against the wall underneath a sprig of mistletoe with come rapidly drying in their pants.

But, in all fairness, Tony’s had Conversations™ that meant less to him happen in far more unpleasant scenarios.

“Yeah,” Tony tells him with a dawning smile as he brings a slightly shaky hand up to cup Bucky’s stubbled cheek in his palm.  He doesn’t even mind the way he swears his heart skips a small beat despite the reactor when Bucky turns his head enough to press a small kiss against the center of his palm.  “Yeah I’d like that.  A lot.  But only if you find us a real bed this time.”

Bucky’s only answer is to move dip down, kiss Tony again just as sweetly as before, and then to hitch Tony up more securely into his arms.  Tony tightens his legs around the slender line of his waist and drapes his arms over his shoulders loosely as Bucky starts to move.

Mouth nibbling at Bucky’s neck Tony lets the rest of his concerns float out and away.

It’s almost Christmas after all and Tony’s intent on enjoying this unexpected present he’s gotten without anything else getting in the way.

~~~

They spend the majority of the next two days holed up in Tony’s rooms.

Much to Bucky’s delight they work together on finding new, inventive, and frankly filthy ways to use Tony’s massive bed, his luxurious shower, and the criminally comfortable chaise lounge by his window.

It’s only FRIDAY’s insistence and Bucky’s own awareness of Tony’s health that keeps them hydrated and fed off a variety of cheeses, fruits, and whatever leftovers Bucky can get his hands on during his three in the morning fuel runs.

Time passes in a haze of moans and pleasure, of heat and desire, and to both of their delights plenty of laughter too.

Needless to say they’re both surprised when FRIDAY interrupts their latest bout of playing almost before they can start.

“Hate to bother you Boss, Sergeant Buck,” FRIDAY chimes in cheerfully before Bucky can finish pulling Tony’s towel the rest of the way off of his waist with his teeth.

“What’s the problem FRI?”  Tony asks, gratifyingly breathless.

“The rest of the herd is gathered in the common room for the gift exchange,” FRIDAY informs them primly.  “They’re kindly requesting your presence.  Both of you.”

Bucky feels a moment of sheer overwhelming panic because, in the flush of everything that’s happened, in getting lost in Tony, he’d neglected to do the one thing he’d been agonizing over for days now.

He hadn’t gotten Tony a present.

The wide eyed panicked look Tony sends him in return pull Bucky up short though.

“What’s the matter котенок?” Bucky asks as he moves to hover over Tony on his hands and knees.

“I forgot,” Tony starts off.

“Boss the present you ordered arrived last night,” FRIDAY interrupts.  “It’s currently under the tree in the common room.  Same as the present you ordered Sergeant Buck.”

Tony’s brows are furrowed with what looks like surprise and confusion and Bucky knows exactly how he feels even if the source is different.

Because Bucky hadn’t ordered anything in the first place.

“Right,” Tony drawls the word out.  “Thanks my girl, tell them we’ll be there in five.”

Bucky huffs in disappointment even though he knows Tony’s right.  They need to go and get this whole thing over with or someone’s liable to show up at Tony’s door.

Bucky’d hate to have to handle that.

He can’t resist leaning down to kiss him one more time before they go though.

Tony, as he has every time Bucky’s reached for him in the past few days, meets him halfway, mouth warm and eager.

Bucky’s pretty sure they’re going to be a bit more than the five minutes Tony promised.

~~~

A orgasm apiece, a wipe down with a wet rag, a stop by the kitchen, and twenty minutes later they stroll into the common room of the Compound together.

Tony’s wearing one of Bucky’s henlys, the red one that gapes at the neck on his smaller frame and goes down over his hands.  He’s also clutching a cup of coffee.

Bucky, on his part, is shirtless because he enjoys the way one of Tony’s hands will constantly come up to absently trace along the network of scars he has there.  Almost as if Tony doesn’t even realize he’s doing it but can’t seem to help himself.

It makes Bucky shiver each and every time he does it.

The others are already there, most of them still dressed in sleep clothes, coffee cups littering the tables and a Christmas movie playing in the background.  Everyone looks relaxed and amazingly content.

Except for Steve who, Bucky notices, looks tired, eyes red rimmed and hair disheveled.

Bucky refuses to feel guilty about it.

“Bout time you showed up,” Barton mutters into his cup half heartedly.

“Wouldn’t be here at all if FRIDAY didn’t say anything,” Tony cuts back with a certain level of cheerful malice.  “Would rather be getting rimmed by my favorite Hot Pocket than do this but what can you do?”

The spit take is both disgusting and impressive in Bucky’s opinion.

Just like the toothy smile Tony gifts him with when he looks at him with an arched brow is nothing short of beatific.

They settle down after that, Tony tucked beneath Bucky’s arm where they’re sitting on the couch as Steve passes out the presents and resolutely avoids eye contact.

Bucky watches, brow furrowed, as Steve puts a box on the side table beside Tony instead of trying to hand it to him and then passes a matching box to Bucky as well.

He hadn’t gotten Tony anything so whatever’s in that box is automatically suspicious and stinks of FRIDAY.

If the way Tony’s eyeing Bucky’s own box with a suspicious look on his face is anything to go by then Bucky has an inkling as to who had drawn his own name.

Which, really, would just mean this whole thing worked out rather well in the end if that’s true.

“I drew your name,” Bucky tells Tony lowly as the others talk around them.  He nods towards the box Tony’s finally picked up.  “Didn’t know what to get you since anything you could want you could get on your own.  Whatever’s in there you can blame on FRIDAY.”

“Same,” Tony nods towards Bucky’s own box which is resting unopened on his knee.  “Couldn’t figure out what to get you either.  Almost went with showing up naked with a bow on my dick.”

“Hmm,” Bucky leans down and presses a kiss to Tony’s temple and then moves so that his mouth is hovering just over his ear.  “You would’ve stolen my idea.  Figured I’d show up with a ribbon on my cock as a last resort.  Kind of wishing you’d have followed through.”

“Great minds think alike huh?”  Tony mutter back, hands twitching against the decorative red and gold wrapping paper of his box.  “Make sure you keep your ribbon and we’ll see what we can do with them later on.”

“Deal,” Bucky hums his agreement as he pulls back and moves to open his gift.  The sooner they get this over with the sooner he can see what Tony looks like wearing a ribbon.

Just a ribbon.

He pulls the lid off of his box at the same time Tony opens his own and they both stare down at the contents with something that smacks pretty close to horror on their faces.

Bucky takes a deep breath, steels himself, and reaches down to pull his gift out so that it can face the light of day.

The sweater’s a bright garish green.  The reindeer on the front is a fuzzy brown with large blue eyes.  The red nose is a furry little bobble.  When Bucky reaches out a trembling hand and presses the little button on the end of one antler the entire thing lights up.

It’s almost too bright to look at straight on.

It’s easily the most hideous thing Bucky’s ever seen.

Until Tony makes a bitten off choking noise and he turns towards him.

The sweater Tony’s holding is a bright, vibrant red.  The deer on the front doesn’t have antlers but it does have a bright golden bow set to the side of one fuzzy brown ear.  Its nose is also a bobble.

And when Tony presses the bow it too lights up almost too brightly to look at head on.

“Merry Christmas Boss, Boss’ Buck.” FRIDAY chimes in delightedly as they both sit there staring at their gifts in a mix of fascination and awed horror.  “Every Buck should have a doe so I took the liberty of making sure you two would match.”

“Thanks FRI,” Tony manages to choke out, “that’s real ... thoughtful.”

“Yeah,” Bucky manages to agree, “they’re really … something.”

“Glad you like them,” FRIDAY sounds almost smug.  “You can wear them for Christmas next year.  Oh and I already have ideas for your birthdays as well.”

Bucky can hardly wait.

He resolves to bury the sweater as deep in his closet as he possibly can because he might not be able to throw it away but he can make sure it never sees the light of day again.

At least not till next Christmas or if he has to torture someone in the inbetween.

FRIDAY’s strange sense of humor and hideous gifts is a small price to pay overall though because Bucky would be willing to pay a lot more in exchange for what he’s really managed to get this year.

Because, after a year of guilt, angst, and drama.  A year of fractured relationships and tentatively built friendships.  Of mistletoe and kisses and dancing around his feelings.  After all of that Bucky’s finally gotten the one thing he’s wanted for himself in decades and he doesn’t regret anything he’s had to do or experience to get it.

Tony would be worth all of that and more.

Bucky intends to make sure that he spends a good portion of his time going forward making sure that Tony’s aware of that.

It’ll most certainly be his pleasure.