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WWII Dinosaurs

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“That never happened,” Sam shakes his head, “You guys didn’t fight Nazi dinosaurs.”

Bucky shrugs, “Ask Stevie. He’ll tell you the same.”

“Like hell he will,” Sam turns away, and calls into the kitchen, “Babe!”

Bucky laughs into his hand, watching as Steve enters the room, eyes flashing when he sees Sam’s annoyance and Bucky’s hidden smile. “What’s wrong?”

Sam crosses his arms, leaning against the couch, and says, “Nazi dinosaurs.”

“Tough to kill,” Steve nods, “A pterodactyl caught Buck once. I thought he was gonna die.”

“That’s how I lost my arm,” Bucky adds, and Sam lets out a half-shriek half-sigh as he shoves his face into his arms. Steve crosses the room to run a hand down Sam’s back, a grin on his face.

“How’d you lose your arm?” Tony asks, coming out of the kitchen as well, a bowl of batter in his hands. “By the way Steve, if you go back into the kitchen and see that the other bowl of batter is mysteriously empty, it was Clint.”

“Lies!” Echoes into the room, and Tony flips off the vents. He moves further into the room, stopping beside Bucky, who unfolds his legs from beneath himself, and smiles as Tony drops into his lap. He wraps his arms around Tony, tucking his nose into Tony’s neck with a soft huff of approval.  

Sam lets out a groan, “Why’re you always making a move on your mate in front of us? Get a room.”

“I own the tower. Therefore, every room is our room.” Tony dips a finger into the batter and pops it into his mouth.

Steve frowns and plucks the bowl out of Tony’s hands. Tony lets out a displeased whine at that, and Bucky lets out a soft growl at Steve. He rolls his eyes, “Stop presenting, Buck. You already won him over.”

Bucky squints at Steve for a moment before tucking his face back into Tony’s neck, breathing in the comforting scent of an omega, of his mate. Tony reaches back to pat Bucky’s cheek, and settles himself closer to Bucky. Steve smiles, then looks to Tony and asks, “Why are you eating the batter?”

“Well, I’m not anymore, you bastard.”

“It’s for baking.”

“I don’t bake,” Tony shrugs, “And the batter tastes better than the cooked version. Your forties' principles are wrong about salmonella, you know. Those eggs are processed, so we’re safe.”

Steve slowly shakes his head, while Sam furrows his brows and asks, “How did we get from Nazi dinosaurs to baking?”

“Nazi dinosaurs?” Tony asks, turning to look at Bucky, who solemnly nods and says, “Very deadly. A pterodactyl dropped me into a ravine after biting my arm off.”

Tony laughs, and Bucky gives a mock gasp of shock, “How dare you laugh at my pain?”

“Do you need me to kiss it better?” Tony asks, lips curling up, and Bucky nods quickly, grip on Tony tightening.

“Done,” Sam stands from the couch, throwing his hands into the air, “I can’t watch that. Come on, babe. I’ll help you make more.”

Steve nods, following Sam from the room, but not before giving Bucky another large smile. Tony pulls away, making Bucky frown, but turns around to sit on Bucky’s lap, facing him. Bucky places his hands onto Tony’s waist as he leans into Bucky and asks, “Why is Steve so smiley?”

“Cause I’ve got you makin me happy.”

A blush runs across Tony’s face, making Bucky preen, and Tony smacks his chest, “Stop being so proud.”

“Tough to do, when I’ve got you as a mate.”

The blush darkens, making Bucky grin. He reaches up, cupping Tony’s face, and pulls him down into a kiss.