Work Text:
Snake at the Door
“Doll-face,” Bucky crowed, knocking on the door again. “You’re being mean to me! Let me inside!”
Tony leaned out his bedroom window, feeling quite safe on the second story. “No,” he said. “I’m not going to. Die.”
“Sugar lips, that’s cruel,” Bucky simpered, taking a step back to look up at him. “Let me in.”
Tony wavered, teeth biting into his bottom lip. Then he heard Steve clearing his voice behind him and straightened his shoulders, bolstered. “No. You’re mean to me.”
“You’re being mean to me now,” Bucky grumbled, smarmy mask dropping for a moment.
It made Tony’s breath hitch in his throat, the way that Bucky could apparently turn the charm on or off—the way his eyes began to glow silver when he realized they were making direct eye contact now. He felt his body freezing up, so, so cold, and then numbing in a way that his arms dropped to his sides.
“Let me in, Tony,” Bucky said, an order instead of a request this time, sharp teeth flashing in his mouth.
Tony began to turn, meaning to go downstairs and unlock the front door. He couldn’t help the ‘oof’ the burst out of him as he walked into Steve’s chest. “Ugh.”
Steve crowded him back up to the window, putting his hands on either side of his body to bracket him against the sill. “Say you’re sorry,” he ordered sharply. Tony opened his mouth, but Steve turned his head, pressing his lips to his ear. “Not you. Bucky needs to apologize.”
“But I’m not sorry,” Bucky said flatly. “You know as well as I do that those werewolves wanted to eat him alive and he was taunting them.” He scowled, putting his hands on his hips as he added, “Witchlings too big for britches get thralled. We couldn’t take on a whole wolf pack.”
“I could have,” Steve huffed.
“You could have gotten your ass handed to you, you mean,” Bucky snapped. He pointed at Tony, who had draped himself over Steve helplessly. “He was covered in lavender and they were feeling it. I had to show them he was ours, and Tony wasn’t going to see sense.”
“Maybe so, but I’m still leaving you down there,” Steve retorted. “Just because you always forget where the spare key is doesn’t mean I’m at your beck and call. And Tony’s mad at you because you made him discover a kink in front of a pack of werewolves.”
“HE LIKED ME THRALLING HIM?!” Bucky roared, absolutely astounded.
“He’s a brat who likes being bossed around, Bucky,” Steve scoffed, as if it should have been obvious. “And how possessive we are. Of course he liked having you thrall him. And showing off he was ours in front of a whole pack of werewolves? He didn’t have a choice but to like it.” He pressed a hand to the back of Tony’s head, urging him to tip it back. Tony let out a shuddering breath against his throat but obediently let the weight of his head be held by Steve’s hand. “Look at him. Already halfway out of it. I’m sure you definitely wouldn’t have taken complete advantage of him.”
Bucky rolled his eyes with a huff. “Of course I would. He’s mine. Ours,” he corrected after a beat when Steve scowled at him. “He needs a good swat every once in a while.”
“Fine,” Steve sighed, rolling his eyes. “If you can find the spare key, you can come in. I won’t throw you right back out. Probably.”
Bucky pointed at Steve instead of Tony, scowling. “I’m coming for that witch’s ass. Yours too, if you bother me enough.”
Steve’s eyes flashed silver back at him, and he leaned his mouth next to Tony’s ear again, murmuring, “Tell Bucky how good you’ll be for me, sweetheart.”
Tony shuddered in his arms, eyes rolling back as he felt the same pressure-cold-numb he had before. “I’ll be good,” he whispered, almost against his will.
Bucky began carefully but quickly checking under all the flowerpots, rugs, and furniture on Tony’s porch for the spare key, grumbling to himself.
Steve reached for his own pocket to check the key was still there, then chuckled smugly and urged Tony into a kiss.