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(wild horses) couldn't drag me away

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Bucky isn’t sure what has woken him up until he squints open one eye, and immediately sees Tony’s sleepy smile. Tony’s hand is cupping Bucky’s face, and his thumb is brushing over Bucky’s cheek, back and forth, light and slow. Humming quietly, Bucky lets his eye flutter closed again, and leans into the touch, turning his head just enough to press a lingering kiss to Tony’s palm.

He can feel Tony’s finger twitch, and kisses the same spot again, tightening the arm he has around Tony’s waist to pull him closer. Tony comes easily, shifting until he’s pressed against Bucky, nose bumping Bucky’s cheek.

“Good morning,” he whispers, his voice still rough from sleep. He mouths at Bucky’s jaw, and laughs softly when Bucky’s breath hitches tellingly. “Sleep well?”

Instead of answering, Bucky brings their mouths together, smiling into the kiss when Tony sighs contentedly. They move their lips lazily, without hurry or real urgency, Tony’s fingers sliding back to curl into Bucky’s hair, and Bucky sneaking his hand under Tony’s shirt to splay it across his back, warm skin against skin. Tony throws one leg over Bucky’s, holding him close, rubbing his bare foot up and down Bucky’s calf, and Bucky rolls onto his back, bringing Tony with him so Tony’s lying against his chest, his head pillowed on Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky pulls back with a peck to Tony’s nose, his expression turning undoubtedly sappy at the sight of Tony’s flushed cheeks, the way his eyes are crinkled happily at the corners. “I love you,” he murmurs, and kisses the corner of Tony’s mouth, soft and lingering.

It doesn’t even occur to him to be nervous about saying it, for the first time no less, on their first ‘morning after’ together, because he’s sure; sure about this, about Tony, about them.

And Tony doesn’t hesitate to say, “Love you, too,” against Bucky’s mouth, then kiss him again, deep and lush.

Bucky sighs, feeling warm all over, and kisses him back.

Because he’s sure.

*

The first two buttons of Tony’s shirt are undone, his tie hanging loosely around his neck, suit jacket draped over his arm. His hair is a little messy, a few strands starting to fall over his forehead, and he’s yawning, blinking slowly as he shuffles into the kitchen.

He’s beautiful.

“Didn’t expect you to still be awake,” he says, but he both smells and looks pleased as he throws the jacket over one of the barstools. “You didn’t have to wait up for me.”

Bucky shrugs, and puts down his glass in favour of pulling Tony into his arms. “Hate sleepin’ without you.”

Tony ducks his head, but not before Bucky catches the slight blush on his cheeks. Smiling, Bucky buries his nose in Tony’s neck, and breathes him in, letting the familiar scent settle him. Tony circles his arms around Bucky’s waist, and presses a kiss to the underside of his jaw, humming softly.

“Did you have a good time?” Bucky asks. He noses his way up Tony’s throat, delighting in the way it makes Tony shiver. “Enjoy your two-thousand dollar plate of almost no food?”

“It was for charity,” Tony says, giving Bucky’s butt a light swat. “But yeah. I did. I made Steve dance with me.”

Bucky tries, and fails, to smother his laugh in Tony’s hair. “He’s a shit dancer.”

“Stepped on my feet twice,” Tony tisks playfully, “and never got into the rhythm, even though I was leading.”

“Rude,” Bucky agrees. “We gotta fix that. J, if you’d be so kind?”

Tony draws back enough to smile up at Bucky when the music starts, putting his arms around Bucky’s neck. Bucky settles his hands on Tony’s hips, and sways them gently, slowly, leaning back in to press his lips to Tony’s temple.

“This better?”

There’s nothing but pure and honest affection in Tony’s voice when he answers, “This is perfect.”

*

JARVIS announces Rhodes approaching the workshop, but Bucky doesn’t open his eyes until Rhodes says, “My shovel talk was completely wasted on you, huh?”

Careful not to jostle Tony, who’s draped over Bucky’s chest, finally asleep, Bucky shifts so he can glance over at Rhodes where he’s perched on one of Tony’s workbenches. He watches Rhodes take in the scene in front of him—Tony and Bucky snuggled up together on the couch, the empty takeout containers on the floor next to them, the hand Bucky keeps running through Tony’s hair—and shrugs as best as he can in his current position.

“He’s your family, you were lookin’ out for him,” he says, and brushes a kiss over the top of Tony’s head when Tony makes a quiet, grumbly noise. Then he chuckles, softly, and adds, “Used to do the same for Stevie. Not that he was ever happy ‘bout it.”

Rhodes arches his eyebrows, looking amused. “You threatened Peggy Carter?”

Bucky can’t help but snort, because, “Well, no. I like my balls just where they are, thanks.”

“Can you, maybe, not talk about Aunt Peggy and your junk in the same sentence?” Tony grumbles into Bucky’s chest, and pinches Bucky’s side. “That would be appreciated.”

Rhodes laughs while Bucky presses an apologetic kiss to Tony’s forehead, and pushes himself back upright. “Well. I was going to feed and water you, and then put you to bed, but I see I’ve been replaced.”

He says it lightly, clearly teasing, and after he ruffles Tony’s hair—and then ducks away from the hand Tony flails at him—he nods at Bucky before making his way back towards the door.

It feels like approval.

Bucky smiles, hugs Tony a little tighter, and closes his eyes again.

*

“Sorry about that,” Tony says, grimacing as he slides back into the seat next to Bucky, still looking a little green around the gills. “This is why you never eat anything that Clint’s put in the fridge. Learn from my mistakes, Buckaroo.”

Clint’s offended, “Excuse you?” is followed by the whack of skin against skin as Natasha hits him, and then Clint exclaiming, “It’s probably your shitty flying that’s—hey! Stop—ouch, hey!”

“Children, please,” Steve chastises mildly, without ever looking away from his card game with Sam and Bruce. “Behave.”

Tuning out the resulting squabbling, Bucky cups Tony’s cheek instead, frowning at the clammy feel of Tony’s skin. “You sure you’re okay?”

Tony leans into the touch with a sigh, smiling softly. “Yeah, seriously, don’t worry. Probably just ate something that didn’t agree with me. I’ll be right as rain once we land.”

Bucky nods, even though he doesn’t like it. His instincts are telling him to bundle Tony up, and hide him away from the world somewhere familiar, where they feel safe, not to run head first into battle. And while Tony usually finds his protective Alpha urges charming, or at least amusing, Bucky knows better than to tell him what to do, or how to handle himself.

Going by the way Tony’s mouth is twitching ever so slightly, he can definitely tell where Bucky’s thoughts are heading. “How about,” he suggests, and turns sideways so he can throw his legs over Bucky’s lap, snuggling in close, “we get through whatever this latest crisis is, and then, once we’re back home, you can fuss over me all night long?”

He nips at Bucky’s jaw, then kisses the same spot, a quiet promise. Bucky tilts his head to give him better access, and just grins, and flips Sam off when Sam mutters, “Oh, fussing, is that what the kids are calling it nowadays?”

*

“They’re beautiful, thank you,” Bucky says, trailing a careful finger over the petals of one of the delicately crafted metal roses Tony just handed at him. “What’s the occasion?” Then he freezes, head snapping up. “I didn’t forget somethin’ important, did I? What—”

But Tony is already shaking his head, still beaming, looking almost giddy as he says, “Congratulations, you virile asshole. You’re going to be a daddy.”

The kiss Tony drops on Bucky’s mouth, then, can’t exactly be good, because Bucky’s slack-jawed, surprised into speechlessness. But Tony doesn’t seem to mind, just moves to kiss his cheek instead, smiles at him as he pats his chest, and then turns around and walks back out of the gym.

Bucky blinks, watching him leave, rooted to the spot. He’s still staring at the empty doorway when Steve comes out of the changing room, stopping across from him, and waving a hand in front of Bucky’s face, looking concerned.

Shaking his head, Bucky finally realises that Steve’s talking to him. Probably has been for a while already, if the worried tone is anything to go by.

“—going on? Buck, you’re kind of scaring me, here.”

“I’m goin’ to be a father?”

It comes out as a question, more than a statement, but it makes Steve stop in his tracks anyway. “What?”

“I’m goin’ to be a father,” Bucky repeats, hand shooting out to grab Steve’s shoulder when his knees suddenly threaten to buckle. “Holy shit, Stevie, I’m goin’ to be a dad. We’re havin’ a baby!”

“You mean—Tony is? Buck!” Steve exclaims, grinning widely. “That’s amazing, congratulations!”

Bucky nods, dazed, then startles when Steve slaps at his arm. “Ow, what?”

“Where’s Tony?” Steve eyes the flowers Bucky’s still clutching tightly, mouth twitching. “Go find him, idiot.”

“I—yeah, I,” Bucky says, trailing off. Steve’s still grinning at him, and Bucky can’t help but return it, heart tipping over into overdrive as it finally sinks in. “Tony’s pregnant. Steve, this is—I gotta go, I—”

Steve’s outright laughing at him now, shoving him gently towards the door. “Get outta here. Go find your baby mama.”

Bucky doesn’t need to be told again. He forgoes the elevator in favour of the stairs, racing up to the penthouse level without another moment of hesitation. He puts the flowers down on the couch as he jogs past, only stopping when he reaches Tony’s bedroom, nearly tripping over his own feet at the sight in front of him.

Tony’s sprawled across his bed on top of the sheets, propped up against a couple of pillows, his legs parted slightly, and a tiny, smug smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. His also naked, and has a hand curled around his dick, stroking it leisurely.

He stretches, entirely unashamed, showing off, eyes twinkling when Bucky manages to, eventually, drag his gaze up to his face. “Took you long enough. Get over here, big guy.”

Bucky sheds his clothes in record time, to the sound of Tony’s delighted laughter, before shuffling up the bed until he’s kneeling between Tony’s legs, hands on Tony’s hips. “Hi.”

It’s a dumb thing to say, probably, but Tony just smiles, arching his back invitingly. “Hi.”

“Fuck,” Bucky groans, even more eloquently, flipping Tony over onto his stomach while Tony teases, “That’s the idea, yeah.”

After that, there’s not much more talking until they’re tied together, sweaty and sated, Bucky spooned up behind Tony to accommodate his knot. He strokes his fingers over Tony’s still flat stomach, nose tucked into Tony’s neck, breathing him in deeply, unable to not notice the ever so slight change in his scent, now that he’s aware of it.

Tony indulges him, trailing a hand up and down Bucky’s arm. “So. Good news?”

He smells ever so slightly nervous, which is just ridiculous. Bucky tells him as much, which makes Tony clench down on his oversensitive dick, and reach back to pinch his side.

“Hey, now,” Bucky says mildly, and kisses the back of his head, then his ear, and finally the corner of his mouth, when Tony turns enough to let him. "‘Course it’s good news. The best news. I love you.”

Tony hums, kissing him again. “Does that mean you’ll go out to get me ice cream later?”

“Little early for pregnancy cravings,” Bucky points out, but he’s smiling against Tony’s cheek, “don’t you think?”

“Your child demands Stark Raving Hazelnuts, it’s not my fault,” Tony protests, pouting. “Please?”

Bucky nibbles at his ear. “You know I will.”

“Yeah,” Tony murmurs, smelling content. “I know.”

*

“Do you have a name picked out yet?” the nurse asks quietly, mindful of Tony passed out in the hospital bed a few feet away. “For the bracelet.”

Bucky nods, but is unable to tear his eyes away from the baby in his arms, one finger brushing very carefully back and forth over an almost impossibly tiny, chubby, rosy red cheek. “We, uh. Yeah. We have one. A name, I mean.”

Luckily, the nurse seems to be more than used to new parents, taking his fumbling in stride. “Here. Why don’t you spell it out for me, and I’ll do the writing for you?”

Bucky does, and she writes it down before moving away a corner of the blanket that’s tucked around the baby, and securing the paper bracelet around its wrist. “There you go, little man. All set.”

“Thanks,” Bucky murmurs absently, offering a finger when the baby scrunches up his face, apparently not entirely on board with what’s happened. “Ssh, it’s all good. I’ve got you, buddy, you’re okay.”

The baby instinctively curls his small hand around Bucky’s finger, and Bucky can feel his eyes well up again, for what has to be the tenth time at least over the last day. He’s not even embarrassed about it anymore, at this point.

“Hey, darlin’ boy,” he says, voice rough, leaning down to press a featherlight kiss to the baby’s forehead. “Hi. I’m so glad you’re here.”

He drops another kiss on the back of the baby’s hand as he pulls back, then rights the bracelet so the writing’s visible, resting his thumb over the name of his son.

Archibald Rupert James Barnes-Stark.

“That’s a mouthful, huh?” he laughs wetly, rubbing his free hand over his eyes. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

The baby blinks, then, opening his eyes. He makes a soft noise, and Bucky can’t help himself, just has to lean back in, and kiss his cheeks.

“Hi, Archie,” he whispers, “welcome to the world.”