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“C’mon, sweetheart,” Bucky said through a yawn, “let’s get out of here. You’ve been working all damn day and you need to get some sleep.”
Tony waved a hand irritably in Bucky’s direction as he typed on a hard-light keyboard with the other. “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.” He was almost done with the quarterly R&D team review and then he could dig into working on an upgrade to his teammates’ armor. He had to make sure they were protected - that they were as safe as he could make them.
“Well, if you say so.” Tony felt Bucky’s hand on his shoulder, spinning him around. Bucky’s other hand was held up at chest level, his index finger pointed at Tony with the rest of his fingers curled into a fist. He bent his thumb forward as if firing his imaginary gun.
“Bang. Bang.” Bucky’s voice was deliberately deadpan. “Oh no. I’ve killed Tony Stark. What should I do with the body?” Tony squawked indignantly as Bucky heaved him over one shoulder into a fireman’s carry. “I know just the place to take it.”
“Okay, okay, you’ve made your point!” Tony grumbled, trying to wriggle out of Bucky’s grasp as his boyfriend strode over to the private elevator that ran from the workshop to the penthouse. “Awfully dark humor though, don’t you think?”
“Sometimes I can still hear his voice, JARVIS,” Bucky commented as he carried Tony into the elevator. “Like he’s some sort of ghost.”
“Indeed,” his AI intoned solemnly, playing Chopin’s Marche funèbre as the car whisked them upward. Tony sighed - even his creation was betraying him. Once the doors opened onto their living room, Bucky gripped him tightly again and carried him into the bedroom, tossing him gently on the bed.
“Better wrap me in a blanket shroud, Buckeroo, or I might haunt the hallways.” Tony teased, a wave of weariness washing over him as he started getting undressed.
A fond smile curled the corners of Bucky’s lips. “How about I just tuck you in to bed instead?”
“Only if you agree to be my Bucky Bear and let me cuddle you all night,” Tony bargained.
“It’s a deal.”