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Treasure (Me)

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The present is there when Tony drags himself out of his workshop after another all-nighter, sitting on his breakfast bar, neatly wrapped and impossible to miss. Tony squints at it for a moment, suspicious, then shrugs, and wanders closer to pick it up.

JARVIS would have warned him if it contained anything more dangerous than one of Clint’s pranks. Probably.

He unties the bow–a very tasteful red that nicely compliments the gold of the box itself, someone is definitely off to a good start here–and lifts the lid, parts the tissue paper, and then just stares, unblinking, at the bracelet nestled inside.

Black leather, three thin strands of it, woven tightly together, and curling around several dark, storm grey glass beads of varying sizes. It’s simple, modest, and, most importantly, not overly pompous, or decadent, or otherwise omega. Something Tony could picture choosing for himself.

Frowning, Tony reaches for the folded piece of thick, clearly expensive stationary that’s been leaning against the gift, and flips it open, eyebrows shooting up in surprise at the sight of familiar handwriting.

Have dinner with us? B & S

Tony glances back over at the bracelet, then down at the invitation in his hand again. When the entire situation continues to make absolutely zero sense, he grabs both the note and the gift, walks across the hall to his bedroom where he deposits everything on his dresser, and flops down on his bed face first, too tired to figure out what Cap and Sarge are up to.

* * *

Tony doesn’t forget about the bracelet, not exactly, but when neither Steve nor Bucky mention it over the next couple of days, Tony assumes that whatever it was about must have resolved itself. Until he arrives home after a short business trip to Japan, and finds a little silken jewelry bag placed on his pillow, that is.

Curious, Tony perches on the edge of the mattress, and tips the contents of the baggie out onto the bed for closer inspection. The tie pin is plain silver, decorated with an elegant, onyx-eyed skull, the cufflinks obviously crafted to match.

The card attached to the bag reads: Lunch is fine, too. How about that little Italian place you like? B & S

Tony stashes everything away in his trinket box, together with the bracelet and his own jewelry, and goes to take a much needed shower, content to ignore whatever ridiculous bet or joke the rest of the team has come up with this time around.

* * *

The watch Tony finds on his workbench a week later, however, can’t be dismissed that easily. It’s a gorgeous black and silver Emile Chouriet he’s had his eye on for a while now, worth nearly eight grand. Which isn’t a lot of money, not by Tony’s standards, and he knows Bucky and Steve aren’t short for cash either, what with their army back pay and Avengers salaries, but it’s definitely too much to be spent just to win a game, or whatever it is they’re actually trying to accomplish here.

So, a little annoyed, Tony grabs the watch and note–We know you love brunch. Are you free this Sunday? B & S–and, after asking JARVIS to locate the soldiers, makes his way down to the gym. Steve is out with Sam, but Bucky’s there, happily punching away at one of the specially reinforced punching bags.

Tony, shameless creature that he is, takes a minute to watch and appreciate the play of well-defined, glistening muscles before announcing himself by clearing his throat. Bucky’s head whips around, mouth curving up into a smile as he steadies the swinging bag with one hand, and uses the other to brush sticky strands of hair away from his face.

“Hi, Tony,” he greets warmly, obviously pleased to see Tony, and that’s enough to quell not all, but at least the worst of Tony’s anger. Charming fucker. “You doin’ all right?”

Instead of answering, Tony throws the watch at him, refusing to be impressed when Bucky catches it effortlessly. “What is this?”

Bucky’s smile falters a bit, and he cocks his head, brows drawing together. “A watch.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Yes, thank you, I can see that. Why was it in my workshop?”

“Ain’t it obvious?” Bucky hums, expression turning impish. “It’s a present. For you. From me an’ Stevie.”

“Oh, for the love of–” Tony starts, then cuts himself off, levelling Bucky with a frustrated glare. “Purposefully obtuse doesn’t suit you. C’mon, buddy. What’s with the watch? Did Clint put you up to this?”

That makes Bucky turn serious again, and frown for real. “Clint? What are you talkin’ about?” Before Tony has the chance to answer that, however, Bucky goes on with, “This is about you, about us. You, Steve, an’ me. You’re actin’ like you’ve never had anyone court you before, jeez.”

Tony shrugs, stubbornly pushing down on his embarrassment. “I haven’t. Not in the traditional way, not really.”

“Are you fuckin’ serious right now?” Bucky demands incredulously, almost sounding offended, for some reason. “We just assumed because, well.” He waves his hands at Tony, eyes wide.

Ah. Fingering one of the rings he’s currently wearing, Tony lifts his chin, defensive, and says tightly, “These are mine. They weren’t courting gifts. Omegas can buy accessories for themselves, you know, this isn’t the thirties anymore.”

“‘Course they can,” Bucky agrees readily, looking at Tony as if Tony’s the dense one here. “But you’re a catch, so, yeah. We assumed we weren’t the first ones to try and snatch you up.”

“Oh,” Tony says, and no, he is definitely not blushing, not at all. Damn it. “I– I, uh, thanks? Thanks. Still.” He gestures at the watch. “There are cheaper ways to ask someone for a threesome.”

Bucky snorts. “You,” he says, laughing despite Tony’s indignant scowling, “are the dumbest genius I’ve ever met.” Then he steps closer, right into Tony’s personal space, and takes one of Tony’s hands in his flesh and blood one, squeezing gently. “We want you to be our third. We want a relationship with you, a bond. We want you to be our mate, Tony.”

“Oh,” Tony says, again, a little croakily, because what? “Are you sure? I– I mean, why me?”

“Because we like you,” Bucky says, simple as that. “You’re sweet, kind, incredibly generous, and not too hard on the eyes, either,” he teases lightly, chuckling at the flat look Tony shoots him for it. “But you’re also our friend, Tony. And if that’s all you want to be, if you don’t like us back, then friends is what we’ll be. A’right?”

“I do. Like you,” Tony admits quietly, swallowing hard.

It’s not something Tony’s actively been trying to hide, not that he could have. He and Steve had, slowly but steadily, been edging towards more than friendship right before the whole Project Insight mess and Bucky’s return, which–while putting an immediate stop to their fledgling romance–hadn’t magically erased Tony’s feelings for Steve. So Tony had taken a step back, not selfish or cruel enough to want to come between the couple, and grown to be genuinely content with being Steve’s friend. And then Bucky’s, as well.

Falling head over heels in love with the pair of them hadn’t come as much of a surprise after that, and Tony would be lying if he claimed he’d never dreamed about what it would be like to be able to call them both his. Which is probably why this, Bucky’s admission and everything it implies, seems so surreal right now.

“I’m not what most people look for in an omega,” Tony says, feeling the need to point that out. To warn Bucky, if he’s being honest with himself. Show him and Steve what they’re getting themselves into, make them see what Tony is and is not, so they can change their minds now, before Tony’s gone and gotten attached. More attached. “I’m a workaholic. An alcoholic, even if I haven’t touched a drink in months. I’m independent, I don’t need or want anyone to provide for me, to make decisions for me. I’m a shitty submissive, I’m mouthy, I talk back, I’m probably too old to have kids, never mind that my lungs and heart most likely couldn’t take the strain of–”

“We know you, Tony,” Bucky interrupts, not unkindly, thumb rubbing soothingly over Tony’s wrist. “We know you. And we want you. If you’ll have us?”

“Shit,” Tony blurts, completely overwhelmed, blinking rapidly because he’s a grown man, he’s not going to let a courtship proposal make him cry, for fuck’s sake. Then, when Bucky’s face begins to fall, he hurriedly adds, “Yes! Yes, of course I’ll have you, Christ. Yes.”

Bucky’s answering smile is radiant. “Thank you,” he says, and brings Tony’s hand up to his face, brushing his lips over Tony’s knuckles.

The gesture is so sweet, so innocent, and with none of the expectations Tony’s used to behind it, that Tony can’t help but stare at the kissed spot even after Bucky has straightened again. Which is why he doesn’t notice what Bucky’s doing until Bucky hooks a finger under his chin to tilt his head up, holding out the watch in one hand, and the chain with his dog tags in the other.

Tony takes the watch, eyeing the tags with equal amounts of hope and uncertainty.

“Allow me?” Bucky asks, jingling the tags, and Tony nods numbly, holding his breath as Bucky slides the chain over his head, then lays his hand over the tags where they fall against Tony’s chest. With a small, almost intimate smile, he announces, “Perfect. Let us take you out to dinner? Please?”

“Okay,” is all Tony manages to mumble, mind still reeling by the time he’s made it up to the penthouse, and collapses onto the couch.

Bucky and Steve want to court him. Part of Tony–a pretty big part–still can’t believe they’re being serious, because why would they be? No one’s ever bothered to go through the trouble of courting him when everyone knows Tony isn’t one to turn down casual sex. It’s all people want from him, and all they want to give him in return.

And while Tony isn’t thrilled about that, he understands, he really does. He’s a terrible omega who’s never been able to keep a relationship going for more than a year or two, he’s prone to flights of fancy, a recovering addict, and neither domestic nor paternal. In short; Tony is about as far away from the ideal mate as humanly possible.

Steve and Bucky, on the other hand, are prime examples of what a perfect alpha’s supposed to be like, and so far out of Tony’s league, they’re practically in another dimension. They’ve been alpha-bonded since before Tony’s father ever thought about settling down and having a family, and it’s honestly a bit of a shock to Tony that they’re even looking for a third. Alpha-alpha pairs without an omega third might have been frowned upon back in the day, but after decades of equal rights movements for everyone, the two of them are no more scandalous than a same-sex beta couple.

The sensible thing to do here, Tony muses, is to prepare for the inevitability that they’ll either recognise that they don’t need him to be happy, or that he’ll fuck up and drive them away.

Tony must fall asleep at some point during his pondering, because the next thing he’s aware of is Steve’s unmistakable scent, and gentle fingers running through his hair. “Gah?” he slurs through a yawn, but gets one eye open wide enough to peek up at Steve’s smiling face.

“Hi,” Steve whispers back, and the way he’s looking at Tony is so unbelievably fond and tender, Tony’s sure his traitorous cheeks are flushing bright red right about now. “Bucky told me what happened. I just came by to give you this.”

Carefully, Steve plucks the chain with Bucky’s tags out from under Tony’s shirt, opening it up so he can add his own tags before putting everything back. “There you go,” he says, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to Tony’s forehead. “Go back to sleep.”

Tony grunts a sleepy protest, but then Steve’s tugging the blanket from the back of the couch over him, tucking him in. Tony hums, wriggling around to make himself comfortable, and sighs contentedly when Steve kisses the top of his head.

When Tony wakes for the second time, he’s got a hand clutching the tags, and his face is pushed into a hoodie that smells tantalisingly of both Bucky and Steve. “Steve, you sneaky fuck,” Tony mutters, amused, but pulls the hoodie on when he gets up to make himself some coffee.

* * *

Tony decides to wear the jewelry they’ve already given him for his first official date with Bucky and Steve. A move he’s extremely pleased with when he walks into the lobby, and the previous smell of nervous anticipation morphs into one of fond excitement.

“Hello, Tony,” Steve squeaks, eyes wide and cheeks tinged pink, which makes Bucky roll his eyes and step forward to kiss Tony’s cheek.

“Ignore him. He has no game whatsoever,” Bucky informs Tony, grinning cheekily when Steve starts spluttering. He wraps a comforting arm around Steve’s waist, though, holding a small box out to Tony with the other. “Steve designed them.”

Tony opens the gift to Steve’s embarrassed, “Buck, c’mon,” and nearly swallows his tongue when he sees the two rings inside. They’re vibranium, thin so they can fit together on one finger, identical but for the gems; one is adorned with a dark blue sapphire, the other with a blood red ruby.

“You’re spoiling me,” Tony says, shifting uncomfortably, but allows Bucky to slide the rings on, and then kiss his finger for good measure. “You don’t have to do this.”

“We want to,” Steve assures, finally having recollected himself. He kisses Tony’s other cheek, then links his arm through Tony’s while Bucky does the same on Tony’s other side. “You deserve it.”

Tony isn’t so sure about that, but he isn’t going to disagree. Not when he’s got a gorgeous alpha on each arm, and an evening of fun ahead of him. Sometimes, he figures, it’s okay to enjoy what you have, as long as you have it.

They do indeed go to Tony’s favourite Italian bistro, where the owners make a huge fuss over Tony’s gifts, then usher them to a beautifully decorated nook in the back of the room for more privacy.

Dinner is lovely, and not nearly as awkward as Tony had feared it would be now that they’ve added a romantic element to their relationship. Tony sits wedged between Bucky and Steve, their arms slung casually over his shoulders, and while the possessive move would have made Tony edgy coming from anyone else, with Steve and Bucky it just feels right. Cosy.

Bucky raves on about a new banana and mocha cupcake recipe he’s dying to try out all through eating their appetisers, Steve smiling indulgently and rolling his eyes at Tony. During the main course, Steve talks about the drawing course he’s taking, Bucky confesses that he’s thinking about going back to school, and they both ask after Tony’s current work and projects. It’s no different than any of the other meals they’ve shared together, apart from Bucky’s fingers that are massaging Tony’s neck, and Steve’s hand on Tony’s thigh.

Tony doesn’t realise that he’s expecting the mood to change at any second until they’re back at the tower, in the elevator up to the penthouse. But Bucky and Steve stop outside Tony’s door, leaning in simultaneously to kiss Tony’s cheeks. It is, hands down, the most gentlemanly thing that has ever happened to Tony.

“Will you let us take you out again?” Bucky asks, taking Steve’s hand, and linking their fingers together.

“Please?” Steve adds, shyly hopeful as he worries at his bottom lip.

Tony raises his eyebrows, one corner of his mouth hitching up. “Ain’t it obvious?”

Bucky splutters out a choked laugh, Steve frowns, adorably confused, and Tony shoots them both a promising grin before slipping into his apartment.

* * *

For their second date, Tony receives a beautiful tie with matching pocket square, and is taken out dancing. Which is hilarious, given that Steve really does have two left feet when it comes to anything but fighting. He stumbles, grumbles, and doesn’t so much lose his rhythm as never find it in the first place, but he beams all the way through it, happy with his clumsiness. Tony hasn’t laughed–genuinely laughed–so much in ages.

Their third date gets interrupted by Doombots attacking the city, and Tony has to sacrifice the pendant of his new necklace to overcharge a bomb set to blow up an office complex. Steve and Bucky replace it on their fourth date–a nightly rooftop picnic–and apologise for the ruined evening–which Tony keeps insisting wasn’t their fault–with a set of silver stud and hoop earrings.

The fifth date, however, is the one Tony looks forward to the most. They have indeed stayed true to traditional courting procedures, and done nothing more frisky than hold hands, hug, and dole out cheek, hand, and forehead kisses. And while it is incredibly nice to be cherished, and made to feel special like this, Tony is most definitely ready for something more. And the fifth date, according to tradition, is the one where they’re finally allowed to take the next step.

Bucky and Steve appear to be on the same page about this, since their gift this time around consists of two leather anklets, something considered to be much more private than jewelry worn above the waist. Tony puts them on in the car on the way to the gala, and is rewarded by heated glances being directed his way all evening. And when they return home, the two alphas actually follow him into his living room for the first time.

They end up making out on the couch for hours, putting even the most eager teenagers to shame. When Tony begins to nod off, Bucky and Steve excuse themselves with more kisses, and lingering hugs.

Despite all this–the slow pace at which they’re moving forward, and the strictly no below the belt action rule–Tony panics the moment he feels the telltale tingling in his belly that announces an upcoming heat. Being courting alphas doesn’t give Steve and Bucky the right to bully their way into Tony’s bed–nothing does, as far as Tony’s concerned–but Tony knows from experience that not every alpha agrees with that. And while nothing suggests that Bucky and Steve would try and force themselves on Tony, Tony’s been blinded by affection before, and has been hurt as a result.

Tony mulls the problem over for days, right up until his heat hits him full force. In the middle of a meeting with Coulson and his team, two days earlier than Tony had anticipated.

In an instant, the eyes of every alpha in the room are on him. Tony bares his teeth in a warning snarl, and most of them immediately snap out of it, except for some trainee Tony’s never actually seen before. The man is unable to take a hint, apparently, slowly rounds the conference table, nostrils flaring. Tony can smell the angry-protective-possessive rush of pheromones rolling off both Bucky and Steve in thick, cloying waves, can feel their presence at his back, but they’re not interfering yet.

“Back off, kid,” Tony tells the trainee in a low growl, with Coulson sharply echoing the sentiment from the other side of the room.

The trainee actually has the gall to look offended. “You’re not bonded,” he purrs, and scents the air around Tony, which is just rude. “Unclaimed.”

He moves closer some more, reaching out for Tony’s arm, and Tony punches him square in the jaw, at which point Bucky and Steve spring into action.

“Come on, let’s go,” Steve urges, offering his hand, and waits for Tony to take it before gently tugging him out of the room, Bucky following close behind, snickering, and cheering, “He’s cryin’, Tony, you made him cry, babe!”

Bucky, Tony thinks through the fog of arousal now quickly descending on the more rational part of his brain, is really fucking hot when he’s being inappropriately gleeful about justified violence.

The drive back to the tower is torture, mostly because Steve and Bucky both refuse to touch Tony in the way he wants. Craves. Tony’s sitting between Steve’s legs, back pressed against Steve’s chest, with Bucky perched above them, kissing Tony breathless. Tony can feel Steve’s erection against the small of his back, and Bucky’s dragging along his upper leg, but neither alpha seems inclined to do anything about the situation.

In fact, the moment they’ve got Tony settled in his bedroom with some water and food, they both turn to leave with nothing more than a promise to check in on Tony again in the morning. Which absolutely won’t do, Tony decides, and kneels back up to snag Steve by the back of his pants.

“Stay,” Tony says, and under normal circumstances he’d be mortified by the whiny, pleading edge to his voice, but at the moment he can’t bring himself to care. “Don’t go.”

“Tony,” Steve sighs, helplessly glancing at Bucky.

Bucky is biting his thumbnail, metal fingers flexing and relaxing rhythmically, but then he shrugs, and shucks his jacket and shoes before crawling onto the bed. “Cuddlin’,” he says, lying down on his side, and pulling Tony against him. “We’ll cuddle, and we’ll sleep. Having alpha pheromones ‘round helps with the pain and stuff, yeah?”

Tony murmurs something vaguely affirming, mouthing along Bucky’s jaw, then makes a displeased noise when Bucky grabs his wandering hands, and pins them between their chests. A moment later, though, Steve is sliding into bed behind him, plastering himself against Tony’s back, nose pushed into Tony’s hair, and that is really nice, too.

It takes a while, what with being too hot, oversensitive, shaky, and a little bit delirious, but eventually Bucky’s quiet, regular breathing, and Steve’s big hand stroking up and down his side are enough to lull Tony to sleep. It isn’t exactly restful–it never is during heats–but Tony wakes up due to a mouthful of hair, not because of stomach cramps or nausea, which is a significant improvement to how this thing usually goes.

And while Tony’s sweaty, feverish, and in desperate need of a cold shower, he’s also surprisingly comfortable, still dressed, and decidedly unfucked.

“Wha’ are you smilin’ ‘bout?” Bucky mumbles, and in response, Tony presses his goofy, silly grin against Bucky’s lips, morning breath be damned.

Bucky isn’t awake enough to kiss back properly, just makes happy little humming sounds instead, but Tony doesn’t give a single shit. Steve’s a warm weight against his back, Bucky’s hand is absently stroking along his hip, and Tony can’t remember ever having felt any safer, or more content.

“Feeling better?” Steve asks from behind Tony, voice scratchy and husky from sleep. Tony shudders, and the arm Steve has slung across him tightens, a warm palm rubbing over his chest. “Anything you need? How about breakfast?”

“Later.” Tony turns his head, cranes his neck, and Steve meets him halfway for a slow kiss before he buries his face in Tony’s neck, nosing lazily at the sensitive skin behind Tony’s ear. “Just. This. This is good. For now. Yeah?”

Steve hums, and nuzzles Tony’s shoulder. "Whatever you want, Tony,” he promises.

And Tony believes him.

* * *

“I regret everything,” Clint groans as he enters the workshop, hands quickly shooting up to cover his eyes. “I did not need to know that your nipples are pierced, Stark!”

Tony smiles sweetly, and flips him off, but doesn’t otherwise move from his position sprawled out on a bed of blankets on the floor, reluctant to disturb the two sleeping men curled around him. Thank his own genius mind for floating holo screens; they make working while handling overtired alphas in need for touch much, much easier.

“You could always knock,” Tony suggests, snorting and rolling his eyes when Clint makes an exaggeratedly outraged face at that. “What’s up?”

“Bruce wants to know if you’re coming up for dinner.” Clint eyes their little cuddle pile, mouth twitching into a smirk. “I guess that’s a no?”

Tony smooths a hand over Steve’s head, scratching his fingers through his hair, and directs an apologetic wince up at Clint when Steve doesn’t react at all, entirely dead to the world. “They’re exhausted. I don’t want to wake them just yet.”

Clint nods, understanding. “I’ll put the leftovers in the fridge for you guys,” he says, and takes his leave, the doors closing silently behind him.

Bucky twitches, the noise getting caught in his throat suspiciously close to a whimper. Tony reaches out without hesitation, shushing him gently while he pets a hand over his head until Bucky quiets, settling down again.

They’ve come a long way since Tony’s unexpected heat three months ago; they share a bed–or, in this case, floor–whenever they get the chance, actively seek each other out for comfort, and Tony–although he’d never admit it to anyone but the people who’d been present when it happened–has even come in his pants once while necking during a movie.

Tony has learned to trust not only Bucky, Steve, and their intentions, but also himself, and his instincts. In turn, Steve and Bucky aren’t shy anymore about asking things of Tony, come to him when they’re looking for reassurance, or are in the mood for a snuggle session.

The nature of the gifts Tony receives has changed as well, turning more and more intimate over the weeks; toe rings, armlets, chokers, bangles, belly chains, as well as a selection of different kinds of piercings for Tony’s ears, septum, and belly button. Tony has to bite back a laugh at the memory of Steve’s slack-jawed expression when Tony’d revealed that, if they wanted to, Bucky and Steve could go and choose a frenum ring for him as well.

They’ve gone as far as spending all of Tony’s heats together, with Bucky and Steve taking off two days every month to stay with Tony. Sex is still off the table–they’ve decided to save that up for the actual bonding, as per tradition–but Tony’s body has recognised Steve and Bucky as potential mates, and usually kicks up less of a fuss if they’re near while Tony’s vulnerable.

It’s the latest present, however, that has had Tony thinking for the last few days. And now, looking down at the once again peacefully slumbering alphas in his lap, Tony realises he knows what he wants to do.

Very carefully, Tony disentangles himself from the mess of limbs surrounding him, and waits with his breath held for a couple of moments to see if either Bucky or Steve wake. Neither does, and Tony, already planning away in his head, sneaks out of the workshop.

He’s got a lot to do until tonight.

* * *

The food–catered, Tony is trying to pamper his alphas, not accidentally poison them–is in the oven to keep warm, the wine has been opened so it can breathe, and Tony is checking his appearance one last time in the reflection of the fridge when he hears the elevator ding, announcing Steve and Bucky’s arrival.

“Tony?” Steve calls out, clearly curious as to what is going on. “JARVIS says you’re up here waiting for us. What are you–”

He cuts off abruptly when he rounds the corner into the kitchen and spots Tony, freezing mid-step, which makes Bucky bump into his back with a confused oof.

“What’s–” Bucky starts, then does a pretty good imitation of Steve’s look of delighted, slightly shocked surprise when he peers at Tony around the other alpha. Breathless, voice cracking, he adds, “Fuck me.”

“That’s the idea, yes,” Tony says, nervous and giddy in equal measures, tongue darting out to lick his lips. When Bucky and Steve’s eyes drop to follow the movement, Tony grins, and cants his hips, drawing their gazes down to his crotch.

Steve actually reaches out to steady himself with a hand braced against Bucky’s upper arm, while Bucky just moans outright, shameless and unselfconscious, eyes fluttering shut for a moment before he forces them open again, as if he can’t bear to look away for too long.

Tony stretches, leans back against the wall, and teasingly spreads his legs, knowing full well that the flimsy, mostly-see through wrap that’s hanging low on his hips hides barely anything. Steve and Bucky are getting a perfect view of his half-hard cock, and their last gift–the glans ring–sitting snugly just under the swollen head.

“You’re wearin’ everythin’ we got you,” Bucky gasps faintly, taking a slow, careful step closer, eyes moving hungrily over Tony’s exposed body. “Look at you. Gorgeous.”

Steve whimpers, swaying where he stands without Bucky for support. “Tony,” he breathes revenantly.

“I’m ready,” Tony announces, baring his neck in invitation. “I– I love you. Both of you. I’m ready.”

Bucky growls, and charges. He gets his hands on Tony’s ass, and lifts, rumbling happily when Tony, laughing excitedly, wraps his legs around his waist, arms coming up to circle his neck. “Love you,” he breathes against Tony’s lips, peppering Tony’s face with kisses as he carries Tony towards the bedroom.

Steve is quick to catch up with them, hands grabbing Bucky’s hips, slowing him down so he can kiss Tony over Bucky’s shoulder. “Ours,” he hums, nipping at Tony’s lower lip. “Yours. Love you so much.”

Tony pulls back just enough to wink at them, smile seductive and playful. “Show me.”