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“Okay, so hear me out.”
Bucky groaned under his breath, swivelling in his desk chair to see his roommate looking very animated about something. And sadly, he could guess exactly what Tony might be so excited about. “Who is it this time?” He asked, trying to resist smacking his head against the table.
“So, her name is Irina, she's a French major, absolutely stunning, legs for days… Your type, I know it.”
Tony, to be fair to him, did have a pretty good judge of what his type was on paper. A few years ago, he would have given his right arm for a date with any of them — which was saying something, since he hadn't had a left arm for longer than that — but now it was all he could muster to go out with them once before gently, kindly rebuffing any interest they may reciprocate.
“Don't shut this one down like the last three, Buck.” Tony said disapprovingly. “I know if you actually gave them a chance, you might be surprised. It looks bad on me, you know, when you call it quits after forty five minutes and disappear.”
Bucky ground his teeth, and forced his lips into a smile. “Right. Yeah. Sorry, Tony.” He exaggerated anyway. He only did that once, and the guy was a total asshole.
Tony beamed, launching into all the details of Bucky’s latest love life attempt that he had hashed out already, wandering to his wardrobe to select something appropriate for him to wear, and generally getting all too involved in the logistics of this damn date. Any other time, Bucky might have appreciated the effort, but it was hard to feel grateful to someone who exerted all their energy into finding you the perfect match, when actually… the only person he wanted to date was standing right in front of him, haphazardly throwing patterned shirts off of their hangers and on to the floor. Bucky cursed his horrible, terrible life, got to his feet reluctantly, and went around after him, picking them back up and putting them aside. “This one!” Tony said, thrusting the dubious winner against his chest. He lingered there, his warm hand against Bucky’s sternum. “Go on, then. Put it on.”
Bucky panicked. “The date isn't right now, is it? I've already had an extension on this essay, and if I don't finish it tonight…”
Tony threw back his head and laughed, skin glowing even under the harsh overhead lighting of university dormitories. “No, I need to make sure it looks as good on as I think it’s going to. Maybe if you put a fraction as much effort into date preparation as I did, you wouldn't be so god damn single.”
Bucky took the shirt from Tony's insistent hand but didn’t put it on. “You're single, too, Stark. Maybe spend more time finding yourself a date, and less time worrying about me.”
A strange look crossed Tony's eye, but it disappeared as quick as it appeared. Once again, Bucky wondered if Tony knew, somewhere, deep down, how Bucky felt about him, and all this was just a scheme to divert his attentions elsewhere. One too many lingering glances when he wasn't alert enough to stop himself, eyes raking down Tony's damp chest when he came back from his morning shower, skin all pink and wrinkled. He felt guilty about it afterwards, knowing Tony should be able to get dressed in the morning without being ogled by his horndog of a roommate, but it wasn't enough to stop him again the next time.
“Take that sweatshirt off and put the shirt on, now.” He instructed firmly, tapping his foot expectantly as if he had somewhere better to be. “I need to make sure you look hot so I can absolve myself of all responsibility if this date goes badly.”
Bucky gave in; when Tony got like this, there wasn't much he could do but surrender to his whims. He tugged the jumper over his head one handed and shrugged the shirt on over his bare chest, too lazy to hunt for an undershirt. As he did up the buttons, he fumbled one, and Tony swept in to help. “Don't start, I know you can do it yourself.” He chided, but Bucky was going to comment nothing of the sort. He was too preoccupied with the way his skin lit up like the god damn fourth of July every time Tony's warm fingers brushed against his chest. Once he fastened it up, Tony, still invading the hell out of Bucky's personal space, hesitated for a moment, and looked up at him to overcome the pretty significant height difference. “That's better.” He said, voice slightly breathless, and Bucky, blushing furiously by this point, took a step back to increase the distance. Tony had little notion of personal space, and even less of customary social practises. “You look good.” He said approvingly, looking him head to toe. “Slacks, obviously. Or those skinny jeans you have that cling to your ass like an absolute dream.”
Bucky blushed even deeper, his brain immediately blaring like a siren that that meant Tony had, on occasion, checked out his ass. His head then reminded him that he was also out here hooking Bucky up with every random person he had ever fucking met, which was more telling in regards to his general (lack of) feelings towards him.
“You mean I shouldn't go on a date wearing five year old sweatpants that haven't seen a washing machine in six weeks?” He joked.
“What would you do without me, Buckaroo?” He trilled, a smug grin on his face.
Be much less sexually frustrated,
Bucky thought, but decided with all his good judgment to keep that comment to himself.
Steve’s view, whenever Bucky went complaining about his infuriating roommate situation, was to come clean. What part of the fact that they slept six feet away from each other and had no opportunity to move rooms until the start of next semester Steve didn’t understand, Bucky wasn't sure. He might not have known much, but he did know that randomly turning to your roommate and (Bucky hated that this was true) one of your best friends, and revealing you have on multiple occasions ended up biting a pillow to stop yourself screaming his name when you jerked off was a terrible idea.
“I mean, I wouldn't go straight in with graphic details about your masturbatory habits—” Steve said. He took another bite of his sandwich and looked at him with laughter in his eyes. Glad to know someone thought this whole thing was amusing. “Wait, do you jerk off to him when he's in the room?”
“Jesus, no!” He hissed, willing her to keep her voice down. “Can we stop talking about masturbation? Please?”
He snorted into his lunch, but relented. He just wanted to bitch about his tragic, elementary school crush on Tony bloody Stark — Steve should know by now that his advice was neither wanted nor required. “Why don't you actually consider… dating someone? You say these people he sets you up with are all your type, most of them seem interested in you and all of them are 100% out of your league.” Bucky tried to protest, but Steve ignored him. “Go on more than one obligatory date. You need to get some action, Buck. Get it out of your system.”
Bucky stole a couple of his fries and chewed while he thought over his advice — which was, pretty much, to just get laid. He had tried. The first few times, he'd gone on a few dates, spent the night once or twice — always at their place. He didn't want Tony to think about him fucking other people, stupid as that seemed. But he went back to his dorm the next day and saw Tony's stupid fucking face and the two minute chat they'd have would give him stupid butterflies in his stomach that the date before, no matter how successful, would never match.
He was screwed, basically.
He said as much to Steve, and he didn't bother contradicting him. “You're never going to be
unscrewed
by moping around and never considering a single other person because you're obsessed with Tony Stark though, are you? Get over yourself, Barnes. And more importantly, get over
him
. This isn’t good for you.”
Bucky stared at him, eyebrow raised. “How long have you been rehearsing that little diatribe?” He asked.
“You know I'm right. I don't care how perfect you think he is — if he doesn't see what he's got right in front of him, that's his loss.”
That's easy for you to say
, Bucky thought. “I'll give her a chance.” He said. “An actual chance. Irina the hot, leggy French major.” He shook his head, wondering where Tony even found these people, and how he talked them into going out with him. Then he considered it a moment longer, and decided he really would rather not know.
Tony wasn't lying when he said she was hot. Or when he said she was like 80% leg. Bucky was pretty tall but she, with the help of three inch high heeled ankle boots, stood towering over even him. And she was
funny
, and smart, and at no point even seemed awkward or weird about his one-armedness. The total package, basically.
(Another point in Tony's favour, when he set these things up. However he broached the subject, which he clearly did since there was never that uncomfortable flash of surprise when they noticed, he did it in such a way that no one ever thought he needed their damn pity. It was matter of fact. He was a scruffy, stressed out hot mess who happened to have one arm, and was pretty self-sufficient, as long as he never had to open a jar.)
The drink turned into drinks, turned into dinner, turned into a slow walk back to his dorm, right to his door. “I think I'm probably meant to walk you home.” He joked, pausing when they reached the room he shared with Tony, hating himself for wondering if he was in, if he could hear them. He made sure to laugh especially loudly, like Tony Stark would ever have a reason to be jealous of him going on a date that Tony himself organised.
“I'll forgive you, since I live three miles off campus.” She smiled, and leaned in for a kiss, and he didnt recoil or dodge or convert it to an awkward kiss on the cheek. He even kissed her back, flipped them around to push her, more noisily than really necessary, against the wall of their room. She smiled into his mouth and kissed back more enthusiastically, and Bucky reminded himself he was enjoying this, liked her company and her sense of humour and her body, and that this wasn't — repeat,
wasn’t
— at all a misguided and fruitless attempt to make Tony Stark jealous.
“I should go.” Irina said reluctantly. “Unless you want to invite me in?” She cocked her head, playfulness dancing in her eyes, and Bruce jolted. He could sexile Tony if he wanted to, he had grounds to, but his mouth had already thrown out the words “I have a roommate”, suitably apologetically, before he had a chance to think twice.
“Next time, then.” She murmured in his ear, half suggestion, half promise, and he nodded because she didnt know what else to say. “Goodnight, Bucky Barnes.”
He watched her hips sway down the corridor, blowing him a kiss just before she rounded the corner, and pushed open the door.
Tony was there, sitting on his bed with a wide, knowing smirk on his face. “Good evening, Buckybear.”
“I hate it when you call me that.” He lied.
“You love it.” Tony laughed. “Fun night?”
“Pretty good, yeah.”
“You have lipstick on your face.”
He rubbed self consciously at his mouth, and sank down into his bed. “You were right.” He said, breaking eye contact. “I do like her.”
“Knew it!” Tony said triumphantly. “Took me a while, but I got you pegged, Buck. So are you seeing her again?”
“I think so.” He said, sitting down on the edge of his bed, facing Tony but staring only down at the grubby, stained carpet. “Yeah.”
“You don’t seem that excited about it.” Tony said, and when Bucky looked up at him, properly, looked him in the eye, there was a flash of something in his eyes that Bucky couldn’t quite place. He supposed he was pissed off, after all this effort he put into getting him laid and he couldn’t finish the goddamn deed off. Tony would happily vacate the room for the evening if it meant that he would finally get some.
“I am.” He said, forcing a smile. “She’s great, Tony. You… You know I appreciate it, right?” Tony stared at him for a moment too long, and then smiled back.
“You bet your ass you appreciate it.”
When Tony came back to their room, a few weeks after he set Bucky up with Irina the first time, to find an old novelty Christmas tie draped over the handle, his heart dropped into his feet. He knew, rationally, logically, that this day would come again at some point, but he always forgot in the mean time how much it
hurt
.
The temptation to press his ear against the door and listen in on his roommate having sex with someone else was almost too strong to resist, as if maybe some miraculous silence would reassure him that they were just watching reality TV or doing a fucking crossword puzzle and not screwing each other’s brains out. He didn’t want to know — every second he could deny this reality was a better, happier second of his life.
And yet, Tony was the one responsible, and not even indirectly. Everyone had told him that this plan to get over his pathetic obsession with his roommate was ridiculous, but he really had thought that if he was off the market, unavailable, he’d finally have to drop this whole thing and move on. Except he didn’t anticipate finding Bucky Barnes’ perfect match to be so difficult, didn’t realise he would be so particular over his potential dates. The guy was infuriating — Tony had no idea what he was looking for, other than the obvious fact that it wasn’t him.
“You look sad.” Rhodey said unsympathetically when Tony showed up at his door. “What’s up?”
And so Tony told him, because Rhodey had heard every stupid thing he had ever done in his futile attempt to get past this. “Okay, Tony, here’s how I see it—” He said, pausing for effect for a long moment. “Why. Don’t. You. Just. Tell. Him. You. Like. Him.”
“Because I’m not a seven year old girl, Rhodey! Because if he liked me like that, don’t you think I’d have noticed it by now? I flirt with him all the time. It’s not subtle. He’d have to be the biggest fucking dumbass in the world to not have picked up all the shit I’m dropping here. There’s no more obvious I could get without crossing into pretty much sexual harassment.”
“You flirt with everyone! You flirt with me every other day. And I know it's different, and I can tell the difference between friend flirting and
I want to fuck you
flirting — at least, I hope I can—” Despite being in a total state, Tony laughed. “But I've known you for twenty years. He's known you for six months, and in that time he has seen you flirt with a
take out pizza
. How is he meant to know what you mean and what you don't?”
“Why do I ever come to you for advice?” Tony groaned.
“Well, we know he’s not the biggest dumbass in the world, at least, since you’ve got that one all wrapped up.” Rhodey snorted with laughter. “Who dedicates their life to helping the guy they wanna fuck find someone else to date? Like, do you not see how that’s a mixed signal, Stark? Even if he did pick up on the flirting, don’t you think he might be misled by the fact that you keep setting him up with other people?”
“Okay, you
might
be right about that.” He acknowledged. “But I know when people want to fuck me, Rhodes. They are generally pretty obvious about it, and Bucky has no interest at all.” He had been reading the signs of people’s desire directed his way for years, and it never changed that much. He had never got a single one of those signs from Bucky, and he’d been actively looking for them, hoping and praying that one day he’d get that look reciprocated. Nothing. No one was that good at hiding their feelings.
“Okay, so you decided for God knows what reason that setting Bucky up with random hot acquaintances of yours was a good idea—” Tony swore under his breath, because it really had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now hadn’t paid off in the way he’d hoped. “Why don’t you set yourself up with random hot acquaintances of yours? Like, instead of finding someone for him to fuck, find someone for you to fuck. How long has it been, three weeks? Isn’t that a Tony Stark record?”
Tony grunted under his breath, face tinted pink high on his cheekbones, and Rhodey prompted him firmly to repeat himself for the class. “Two months.” He said reluctantly.
“Two months? Jesus Christ, Stark. I didn’t realise you could live longer than a few weeks without fucking someone.”
“This is pathetic, isn’t it?”
“Well…” He said, and then changed tack. “Actually, yeah, it is pretty pathetic.”
Thanks for that, Rhodey.
He went back to their room after a safe amount of time had passed, and the tie was gone from the door. Tony made a bit of a song and a dance of unlocking the door, giving Bucky plenty of time to make himself decent, but when he finally got in and closed the door behind him, he was relieved to see he was alone, sat cross legged on top of his blankets, poring over a selection of economics textbooks with a pinched expression on his face.
“Hey.” He said, barely looking up from his books. He didn’t want to make a big deal of it, clearly, but Tony had the self preservation instincts of a toothpick and a need to at least embarrass Bucky a little in exchange for the afternoon of mild emotional torture he had indirectly inflicted upon himself.
“Someone had a fun afternoon.” Tony grinned, throwing his bag down into the corner and toeing off his shoes.
“Oh, uh…” Bucky flushed, straightening the sheets on his bed instinctively, like they might look particularly fucked out. It wasn’t the sheets he should be conscious of really, Tony thought, but the slightly matted, mussed up texture of his long hair, tied hastily back into a topknot. It should look utterly insufferable, but Tony kind of liked it on Bucky. “Sorry. I thought you would be out longer, I didn’t mean to get in your way—”
Tony shrugged it off. “I’m sure I’ve done the same to you many times before. No biggie. You and Irina, huh?”
Bucky looked severely uncomfortable. “Yeah, she’s… uh, well… She’s a very nice girl.” He paused for a moment, staring down at his lap.
“Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.” Tony said, faking a bright cheery note in his voice that even to his ears sounded completely fake.
At the exact moment, Bucky mumbled, “I think I’m going to end things with her.”
“What? Why?” Tony said, half of him frustrated that Bucky couldn’t make another one of his genius pairings work, and the other half singing in joy. “You two seem so good together. Thought I’d finally cracked it.”
Bucky shook his head. “You… It’s not… Irina is great. I… I think I just need to take some time out, Tony. No more dates, not for a while. I appreciate the effort you made, but—” He trailed off, cheeks pink.
“Hey, that’s fine, man. I was just trying to help, you know. You deserve a bit of love in your life, that’s all.” Sad thing was, he meant it. He just didn’t mean it with any of the various motley crew of men and women he’d paraded past his roommate throughout the last three months.
“You think everyone deserves a bit of love in their lives.” Bucky smiled. “And yet if you put a fraction of the effort into finding yourself a date as you did with other people, you'd probably be married with kids by now.”
“I date.” He said defensively. “I just have very high standards.”
“That no person could ever possibly meet.”
“Some people meet them.” He smirked, because fuck it, what was the harm in a little flirtation at this point? Bucky had shown himself decidedly uninterested. “It's not
unheard of,
just rare. I guess I’m just holding out for that special someone.”
“Oh, hey, Buck.” Tony said casually when he got back from class, and Bucky tried not to stare at the guy in Tony’s bed. Like, tried really really hard not to stare. He was naked from the waist up, and whatever was happening underneath was thankfully covered by the blankets, and Tony seemed totally unflustered. He was shirtless, too, Bucky’s brain taunted, and the temptation to glance over again to take in the view was almost too much — and he saw Tony shirtless a fair amount, on the basis of living in the same room. “I didn’t realise you’d be back so soon.”
“It’s half six.” Bucky pointed out, and this was basically the time he always got back from the library, every day for the last few months.
Tony grinned. “Oops. Must have lost track of time.” He said. “This is Lukas. Lukas, Bucky.”
Bucky forced a smile. “Hey. Look, Tony, I can go if you’re… busy. I don’t want to intrude—”
“Nah. We were about done here anyway.” He said hastily, which, Bucky didn’t miss, seemed like news to Lukas, who looked somewhat put out in being expected to move on out so quickly. He didn’t protest though, kicking off the blankets as he reached for his shirt, discarded on the ground. To Bucky’s relief, he was, in fact, wearing boxers, but that served as a reminder still that Tony had probably been up close and personal with his junk in a way that Bucky really, really wanted Tony to get up close and personal to his own junk.
Bucky busied himself in his bag so he wasn’t just standing there watching Tony’s fuckbuddy (he hoped it was just a fuckbuddy — he hadn’t bumped into one in months, come to think of it…) get dressed and make his way out of their room. He left, finally, with a cursory “See you around.” to Tony, who blew him a kiss from his bed before the door shut.
“Fun evening?” The words came out stilted and emotionless, an unconvincing portrayal of the friendly gossipy vibe he had hoped to carry off while still figuring out just how serious whatever this thing was.
Tony shrugged. “Eh. It was okay.”
“Gonna see him again?”
“Maybe. Some of us like to give people more than one chance, at least.”
Bucky raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He challenged. If there was one thing he was definitely not in the mood for right now, it was Tony starting shit with him. “It’s none of your business what I do or don’t do, Stark.”
He held up his hands in surrender. “I’m just staying… Some of those people I set you up with were absolutely perfect for you and you just chucked them aside after like, one date. Which, fine, yeah, you can do what you want with your life, but it just… seemed a bit premature, sometimes.”
“Or maybe you’re just not as good of a matchmaker as you think you are.” He shot back, unable to help himself.
“I mean, it’s possible,” Tony allowed. “But historically, I’ve had a pretty good eye. You know I set Pepper and Natasha up last year and they’re like two months away from someone popping the question.”
“Well, your eye has failed you here.” Bucky said firmly, collapsing back on to his bed.
Tony frowned. “Clearly.” He muttered under his breath, his eyes fixed on Bucky. “Okay, if I’m getting it so wrong, what are you looking for? And no, I’m not going to try setting you up with anyone else, you’ve said you’re not interested, it’s just… to satisfy my own curiosity, I guess. Recalibrate the matchmaking algorithm.”
Knowing Tony, there was a pretty decent chance there actually was an algorithm behind it. He could see him sat in front of my computer, programming in everyone he ever met and their likes and dislikes and personal attributes. Fine. He’d play this game. “I like people who are passionate about things. Like, people who get excited over the things they like and can get totally sucked into them even if everyone around them thinks it’s totally weird. Funny, smart, a bit of sarcasm doesn’t go amiss…” Tony cocked his head, looking at him with a weird expression, and Bucky wondered if any of this was hitting close to home, or if Tony was simply cycling through his rolodex of eligible bachelors and bachelorettes ready for the next time Bucky gave in and dipped his toe in the dating pool once more. “And if all else fails, I’d always go for a hot millionaire.” He joked, which… Tony actually kind of was, too. Probably. He didn’t know if Tony himself was a millionaire (yet), but hot, he definitely was. Ridiculously so. And exact figure notwithstanding, certainly pretty damn wealthy. “How about you?”
Tony started, a confused expression flitting over his face. “Huh?”
“What’s your type?” He asked, wondering whether Tony had heard a word of anything he’d just said. “What are you looking for in a partner? Or date, or quick drunken fuck, or whatever.”
“Quick drunken fuck, I’m mainly looking for someone who is hot and willing to quickly fuck me.” He joked. “Date? I guess, the same as you, really. Someone interesting who knows who they are and doesn’t care what other people think about that. Though I guess a hot millionaire wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, mainly so I would know for sure they weren’t just with me for the money.” Bucky laughed, and Tony smiled briefly before turning serious again. “Hot, smart, self-possessed, occasionally a disturbingly dark sense of humour.” He met Bucky’s eye, and Bucky tried to swallow, his throat gone suddenly dry. “Have recently changed my opinion on stupid man buns. And fairly unfussed if the person in question happens to have a below average number of arms.”
The smile dropped off of Bucky’s face. “Fetishising amputees is generally frowned upon.” He managed, each word carefully delivered to minimise the tremor that was trying to take over his voice.
“Bucky—”
“What are you saying, Tony?” He said quietly, his heart pounding out of his chest but his own sense of self preservation kicking into overdrive. Tony had to be messing with him, and he wasn’t in the mood.
“Even now, I didn’t make it obvious enough?” He snorted. “I’ll spell it out, Buckaroo — I have an actual high school crush on your stupid ass, and have done for months. And it’s totally a dick move of me to bring it up, ‘cause we literally live in the same room, which just makes everything extremely awkward and uncomfortable, but hey I’ve never exactly been good at that whole generously putting other people’s needs in front of my own thing, and—”
“You’re spiralling.” Bucky said helpfully, cutting him off before the idiot dug himself a hole all the way to Australia. “Also, you’re literally the world’s. Biggest. Dumbass.”
“Rhodey has mentioned this to me before.” He said miserably. “Wait. Why are you smiling?”
Bucky shrugged, playing it cool as his heart danced in his chest. “Because I’ve been talking Steve’s ear off for four months about how much I want to make out with your face.”
“Oh.”
“Yup.”
“Shit.”
“We’re idiots. Both of us. Giant idiots.”
“Yup.” Tony burst out laughing, and Bucky, unable to help himself, joined in. “I can’t believe you didn’t realise! I flirted with you non-stop for weeks.”
“You flirt with everything, Tony. Everything. Not everyone, everything. Plus, you started setting me up with your friends! That’s not something someone usually does if they want to get into your pants, T, admit it.”
“Well, I thought you didn’t like me! And then at least if you were dating someone else you wouldn’t like me because you were taken already, rather than because you just hated who I was as a person.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.” Bucky said, rolling his eyes. All those stupid fucking dates, forcing himself to give them a try even though he’d much rather be lounging around in their room with Tony, bitching about reality TV stars and shitty lecturers and boring, jargon stuffed textbooks that cost $200 and had zero useful information in them. “Anyway, it’s been a whole two minutes since I found out you also want to make out with me, and yet for some reason, we’re not making out?”
“A scandal, truly.” Tony said, already on his feet and crossing the small distance between them in just a few steps. He dropped onto Bucky’s bed, hand going straight for Bucky’s hair, and pulled him in for a kiss.
Bucky’s eyes fluttered closed like a fucking tween princess movie, and everything was Tony, the smell of his aftershave, the soft pressure of his hand around a fistful of hair, the feel of his goatee scratching lightly against Bucky’s face. When Tony pulled away, he smirked, his eyes dark and wide. “Everything you ever dreamed of?” He murmured.
“And then some.” Bucky tilted his head back for another kiss, the hard lines of Tony’s body settling against his, that solid weight a welcome, heady reminder that this was real, this was happening, this was what could happen when he actually communicated like a competent adult human being for once in his god damn life.
He knew he was getting hard and it should have been embarrassing really, getting a boner just from making out, but hell, they’d already proved themselves to have the relationship know-how of high school students so he couldn’t bring himself to care that much. “That fucking Lukas guy better not have worn you out already.” Bucky growled. “Because I’ve waited months for this, and like hell I’m waiting another fucking second.”