#PLEASE YOUR FEEDBACK WOULD BE APPRECIATED HAHAFKJDF!!!!

[firebrands]

consider the hairpin turn (steve/tony, bucky/tony)

Two boys, one to love you sweetly One does so discreetly

Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Bucky Barnes/Tony Stark | mature, cheating tw | on ao3

for @desitonystark​, ily.

**

Tony doesn’t mean for it to happen. But, he figures, most people never mean to be sleeping with two people at once.

He’s never thought of himself as a bad person, just someone who does bad things. This is probably a line he learned from his therapist back when he used to see her. Still, it’s a comforting thought as he picks through half-clean clothes strewn on the floor.

Tony’s almost at the subway when he realizes he’s left his wallet at home. Thankfully he’s got some cash tucked away in his day-old jeans that should be enough for a cab to work. As he’s trying to hail a taxi, his thoughts turn sourly to Bucky, whose fault it is that he’s so sleep-deprived.

Finally sitting on the moldy leather of the back seat, Tony realizes that he’s wearing Bucky’s sweater. He’s an hour late for work but he tells the driver to bring him back home, instead.

*

Tony’s sitting beside Steve, glass of wine in hand, when he feels his phone buzz in his pocket.

Steve’s watching the movie, eyes still on the screen as he takes a sip of wine from his own glass. Tony watches the movement, feeling utterly and completely captivated by Steve’s presence.

Steve seems to notice, and turns to Tony with a small, curious smile on his lips. “What?” He asks.

“Nothing,” Tony says.

Steve chuckles and leans forward to press a quick kiss on Tony’s lips. “Not enjoying the movie?”

“No,” Tony says, then backpedals. “I mean, I am.” His phone buzzes again. “Do you mind if I have a cigarette real quick, though?”

“Sure, go ahead,” Steve says, still smiling at Tony. “I’ll make some popcorn.”

Tony slips out onto Steve’s balcony and fumbles with his lighter for a bit before the flame catches. He takes a long drag before pulling out his phone.

See you tonight?

Tony frowns at his phone for two reasons. First, because of the strange thrill of anticipation, and second, because Bucky rarely ever texts ahead. 

He texts back: 

Miss me already?

Tony only has a moment to savor in his triumph: next thing he knows Steve’s arms are around his waist and he startles so badly that he almost drops his phone.

“Done smoking?” Steve asks, pressing feather-light kisses on the back of Tony’s neck.

Tony turns so he’s facing Steve. “Popcorn done?” He asks, doing his best to keep any tremor from his voice. He takes the opportunity to exit from the messaging app and locks his phone.

Instead of answering, Steve leans down to kiss Tony. Steve’s hands wander down Tony’s waist, settling first on his hips, and then further down to squeeze his ass. Tony moans and presses himself closer to Steve, urging him on.

*

“You could just stay over, you know,” Steve says, fingers light around Tony’s wrist.

“I know, but my clothes--” Tony answers, and it’s a standard conversation at this point, which makes him hate having it even more.

Steve is silent as Tony searches around the room for his underwear, feeling a little silly to be walking around in his half-buttoned shirt and socks on.

After a few minutes, Steve stretches and yawns. “Let me walk you home,” he says, already motioning to stand up. 

Tony’s used to this, too, and is quick to stop the movement with a hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“It’s fine, it’s only a few stops away,” Tony says, before he bends down to kiss Steve on the lips. “See you on Saturday?”

“Saturday?” Steve asks, wrapping his arms around Tony’s waist and pulling him back to bed. “That’s later.”

Tony laughs as Steve peppers his face with kisses. They wrestle around for a moment and Steve pins Tony under him, smiling triumphantly.

“Steve,” Tony says, a small smile still on his face.

Steve presses the tip of his nose against Tony’s. Tony sucks in a sharp breath when he sees the fondness in the way Steve is looking at him.

“I love you,” Steve says, leaning forward to kiss Tony. 

Tony kisses back, kisses hard, and hopes that it’s enough to make Steve forget that he didn’t say it back.

*

Tony isn’t surprised to a half-empty glass of water on the kitchen counter when he gets home. He’s even less surprised to find Bucky lying on his bed in Tony’s sweatpants, his own clothes folded neatly on Tony’s dresser.

“You’re still feeling at home,” Tony says, rolling his eyes as he begins getting undressed.

“‘Course I am. It’s basically still half mine, anyway,” Bucky says, smirking at Tony from where he’s lying down.

Tony huffs, unbuttoning his rumpled shirt and kicking off his pants. Behind him, Bucky chuckles, low and dark.

“C’mere,” Bucky says, pulling Tony onto his lap. “Let me help.”

Bucky expertly undoes Tony’s shirt and slides it off Tony’s shoulders, pressing kisses against Tony’s neck as he does.

“How was your day, doll?” he asks, kissing down Tony’s back, now.

“Good,” Tony mumbles out, already losing himself to the sensation of Bucky’s hands sliding up his stomach. He shifts a little and feels Bucky’s cock pressing against his ass.

*

Tony’s lying awake, listening to Bucky breathe softly beside him, and he tries to figure out how he got to this point. It’s always a fun game to play with himself, in the little pockets of morning when everyone’s asleep and Tony’s left with his thoughts. How did we get here? How do we get out?

Bucky’s arm tightens around Tony’s waist and he shifts to better settle against Bucky’s chest. Tony falls asleep thinking of Bucky cooking dinner in Tony’s apartment, moving independently around the cupboards, familiar with the space.

When Tony wakes, it’s from a dream of Steve squeezed beside him on the subway, hand warm against Tony’s.

Tony turns to his side, and the bed is empty, sheets still rumpled. His sweats are folded up neatly on his dresser. Tony yawns and rubs at his eyes, willing himself to get ready to work, when he’s startled out of his haze by the doorbell.

“Coming!” he shouts, pulling on a shirt and stumbling towards the door. He throws the door open and finds Steve standing in front of him, two cups of coffee in a small tray.

“Good morning,” Steve says, smiling brightly.

Tony stares for a second, then comes to. “I was just dreaming about you,” he laughs, and does a quick scan of his apartment to see if there’s anything Bucky left behind. The word incriminating floats into Tony's consciousness, but he casts it aside.

Steve notices Tony’s gaze. “Looking for something?” he asks. 

Tony flushes at being caught. “No, just making sure my apartment isn’t that much of a mess,” he says, laughing a little and stepping aside to let Steve in. Steve sets the coffee down on the table. “How do you feel about a picnic?” he asks.

Tony picks up his cup of coffee, smiling down at it for a moment before he counters, “how do you feel about a shower?”

*

Tony watches the Hudson zoom by. Beside him, Steve is tapping his finger to the beat of the music.

Tony remembers Steve tapping the handle of his cup, the first time they got coffee together. He remembers looking up from his little hoard of books in the library at the man blocking his sunlight. He remembers the way the grin formed on his face when Steve had introduced himself and asked if he could borrow one of the books in Tony’s pile.

Steve’s hand on his arm draws him back to the moment.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“Just thinking about the first time we got coffee,” Tony says, because plain honesty gives him relief.

“That’s so sentimental of you,” Steve laughs, and gives Tony’s arm a squeeze. “What made you think of that?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Tony shrugs. “It’s just a good day, is all.”

“And we’ve only started,” Steve says, and raises Tony’s hand to his lips.

Tony smiles at Steve, feeling something he doesn’t want to give a name to swell inside him. “Thanks for planning this, Steve.”

“Thanks for agreeing to come,” Steve laughs, and moves his hand back to the gear stick.

*

Steve pulls Tony to rest in between his legs as they appreciate the view. Tony leans back against Steve’s chest, secure with Steve’s arms around his waist, and he feels like his heart could burst from how happy he feels.

“This is really nice, Steve,” he says, turning his head to kiss Steve’s cheek.

“It is, isn’t it?” Steve smiles back, and turns to kiss Tony properly.

Steve’s tongue is in his mouth when he realizes: I love him .

Tony pulls away with a jolt, and Steve looks a little confused.

“I love you,” Tony whispers, feeling equal parts amazed and horrified.

Tony watches a smile bloom on Steve’s face and he wishes he could capture that moment and play it back for every time he hates himself.

“I love you, too,” Steve says, and Tony can’t remember a time he’d ever felt so whole. A delighted laugh bubbles out of him, and Steve begins laughing too, and then they’re laughing and kissing and rolling over the sandwiches Steve had laid out and nothing else matters.

They hold hands the entire car ride home, which is kind of a traffic hazard, but the smile on Steve’s face is worth it.

*

Tony spends his Sunday alone, lying in bed, eyes shut as he plays and replays the memory of Steve smiling at him.

He curls further into himself and thinks that it’s finally time he made a decision. He drags himself out of bed and pours himself a glass of whiskey, staring at Bucky’s name on his phone.

He pours himself two more glasses and has three cigarettes before he presses the call button.

*

Tony stares at his shaking hands. All he's been are bad decisions; surely, no one can fault him for making a good one, this time. Because it is a good decision, it's better for both of them, to part like this, to part before they hate each other, he thinks. A clean break, a fracture that will hurt like a bitch until eventually bone stitches back to bone and it's like nothing ever happened. Hopefully.

He sits on his windowsill, lit cigarette burning away in his hand, and he knows Bucky hasn't gone inside his car, hasn't left.

Half of him wants to run outside and kiss him. Half of him knows it's better to stay inside, stick to his decision, to hold fast to their agreement of distance.

But all he's been are bad decisions, so he kills the cigarette, pulls out his phone, and presses Bucky’s name on his speed-dial list.

Bucky’s voice cuts out in the middle of the first ring. "Tony?"

"Come back," Tony says, and surely his voice is shaking, now. He wants to scream from how much he hates himself, for wanting this so badly. 

“Okay,” Bucky says, and he doesn’t put down the line, letting them hear each other breathe as Bucky walks to Tony’s front door.

“I don’t--” Tony starts, and Bucky surges up against him like a rogue wave, his arms around Tony’s waist in a second, holding him close so tightly that it takes Tony’s breath away.

Tony’s hands are around Bucky’s shoulders and he doesn’t know how he got there, wasn’t thinking to do it. But that’s what it’s been, with Bucky, hasn’t it? Action before thought, pure instinct. 

He doesn’t know how long they spend standing there in each other’s arms, Tony’s eyes pressed hard against Bucky’s shoulder, taking shallow breaths against Bucky’s chest. 

Bucky digs his face deeper into Tony’s neck, his back bent from how he’s wrapped around Tony, as if wanting to envelop him, as if wanting to subsume him.

Eventually, they part, and Bucky opens his mouth to say something, but Tony won’t let him, doesn’t care to hear whatever excuses he has, instead just moves his hands to wrap around his neck and pull him down for a kiss. 

They stagger towards Tony's bedroom, and Tony wants to believe that this is all just happening to him, not that he’s making it happen, or that he’s part of it, wants no culpability just as much as he wants Bucky on him, in him, with him.

*

“I’m sorry,” Tony whispers.

“What for?”

The silence in the room is punctuated by the sound of traffic. Tony’s thankful for how dark his room is, so he doesn’t have to see the way Bucky looks when he says, “this someone else, you like him a lot, don’t you.”

Tony nods, then realizes Bucky can’t see him, either. “Yes,” he breathes out.

“I’m hoping there’s a ‘but’ here,” Bucky says, and he laughs, but it sounds pained, and Tony reaches out to touch him.

“I can’t,” he says, quietly. “I tried to… I tried not to. But I did.”

“You’re preaching to the choir here,” Bucky laughs again, rough and mirthless.

Tony swallows, and Bucky shifts so he can cup Tony’s jaw in his hand. “I do love you, you know,” Bucky says, leaning in to touch his forehead to Tony’s.

“I know,” Tony says fiercely. “I know you do.” Tony breathes out and raises his hand to hold Bucky’s. “I love you too.”