Height diference ,Size kink Tony is just so short, fits everywhere and always looks up to Bucky as if being kneeling, so Bucky really can't stand being in a room with him wihout getting horny
Summary: James Barnes, former Winter Soldier and current hot mess, is trying to gather the courage to make a move on the maybe hot mess but definitely hot Tony Stark. An undercover mission gone awry gives him the chance he was looking for, albeit not in the form he expected. (Spiritual sequel to In From the Cold but it can be read as a standalone)
Link to Ao3
Feeling the Heat
Chapter 1
James would like for the record to state that if it wasn’t for Tony’s goddamn eyelashes, he wouldn’t be in this mess. He wanted to feel them on his lips when he kissed the laugh lines at the corner of Tony’s eyes and he wanted to feel them brush his skin as Tony fell asleep on his chest. Tony’s warm brown eyes were already arresting enough without the thick fringe, the way they sparkled with amusement even when Tony wasn’t smiling or how they would go sharp and distant when he was deep in thought. But the kicker, what really got to James the most, was the way that Tony would sometimes glance up at him through those thick eyelashes when they talked.
Tony was short, yeah; whenever Tony stood next to him, it always surprised him that Tony only came up to his chin because honestly, Tony had so much presence that it made him seem taller. But Clint was the same height, and so was Bruce, and neither of them made James feel tongue tied and gave him the butterflies that Tony did. Ridiculous.
So after much thought, James decided to blame the eyelashes. Weeks of study had revealed that there was a sweet spot where James could stand, far enough that Tony wouldn’t have to lift his chin but close enough that he did have to look up, that would almost always lead to at least one such glance. James had planned assassinations with less effort than conversations with Tony.
He sighed.
But if he were honest, it probably wasn’t just the eyelashes. Tony could be next to him in the elevator and James would think about picking him up and how Tony could wrap his legs around his waist and that would bring Tony’s generous mouth level with James’s and that’s when he would have to derail his own train of thought lest he embarrass himself. On the bad days he fantasized about pulling Tony into a hug, wondering if he would fit right under his chin like it seemed like he would. He also wanted to tuck Tony into bed and aggressively big spoon him every time Tony ghosted around the place late at night with that sad, haunted look in his eyes. He knew Tony was strong and capable and that the Iron Man suit could take far more damage than James could in his best body armor, but he still daydreamed about being able to stand in front of Tony and protect him. To let this mangled body save a life instead of only having memories of taking them.
“Whatcha thinking about?”
James jumped when Tony appeared right at his elbow. Tony frowned and moved his cup out of harm’s way when James almost spilled his coffee. “Jeez, jumpy much?” Then with apparently a death wish he poked the century’s most prolific assassin in the side. “What’s got you so on edge?”
Predictably, James’s brain froze when presented with a conversational ambush, especially when he saw that Tony was wearing a tank top and low-slung jeans that revealed a tempting line of skin at his hips. There was a smudge of grease on the back of the hand holding the coffee cup, a red line around his eyes from where he had been wearing goggles, and his hair was sticking in all directions like someone had been ruffling their hands through it.
For a quick, sharp moment James wanted him so much that his chest ached. Swallowing around the tightness in his throat, he finally noticed that Tony was looking at him expectantly. He pulled his thoughts away from Tony’s eyelashes and realized he’d been asked a question. “Just tired,” James mumbled and got up to go back to his room, afraid his thoughts would show on his face. He so mortified that he didn’t even notice the way Tony’s eyes followed him as he left.
James let himself fall into the rhythm of his workout, the world narrowing to just him and the thud of impact as he hit the punching bag. Behind him, Steve was on the souped-up treadmill Tony had designed for them, his strides a quick counterpoint to James’s strikes. After thirty minutes they would switch, then lift weights, then spar, trying as ever to reach muscle exhaustion before boredom set in. The best days were when Tony would put on a suit and spar with them outside, but he had too many demands on his time to be able to do it more than once every other week or so.
Which was probably for the best, considering that after those sparring sessions, the leftover adrenaline and endorphins gave James a hard-on that just wouldn’t quit. He would invariably spend the next few hours masturbating until his dick got chafed to fantasies of peeling Tony out of his suit and bending him over one of his work tables, or maybe having Tony ride him on the back of one of his motorbikes.
James dragged his thoughts away from that and tried to focus on his work-out, getting back into his rhythm until the loud smack of a hand hitting a practice mat broke his concentration; looking up, he realized that on the other side of the gym Tony was getting a martial arts lesson from Natasha. He quickly forced his eyes away and back to the bag, because Tony was wearing another tank top and his biceps were almost as bad as his eyelashes. Plus, he was also wearing those thin workout pants that always clung to his ass when he started sweating and that shit was not fair.
Jab. Jab. Jab. Elbow. Cross. Jab. Hook.
Steve tapped him on the shoulder and gestured towards the treadmill. As he cranked up the speed, James tried to get back into the exercising mindset but his concentration was shot. Sometimes when he was tired and high on endorphins, he could have a normal conversation with Tony instead of being the tense, wound-up wreck he usually was. Now, however, all he could think about was pinning Tony to the mat, both of them sweaty and breathing hard, and Tony looking up at him through those goddamn eyelashes-
He tripped on the treadmill and had to grab the sides before he fell.
“Careful, Buck,” Steve said with a small smile, as if he knew what James had been thinking about. “If you bite it on a treadmill, Sam will never let you live it down.”
“Yeah, yeah,” James muttered. “Everyone’s a fucking comedian.”
———————
A week or so later, James found himself wide awake at three in the morning, something that happened with enough regularity that he knew that he wouldn’t be going back to sleep any time soon. With a resigned sigh he climbed out of bed and started wandering through the compound, checking that all was well while he waited to get tired enough to go back to sleep.
To his surprise, he saw a light coming from the kitchen; approaching quietly, he smiled to himself when he saw Tony staring blearily into the fridge. He was barefoot but still wearing the clothes from earlier, his fancy dress shirt pulled free of his pants and sleeves shoved messily up to his elbows. James gave himself a minute to watch fondly as Tony went on his tiptoes to search through the top shelf of the fridge before he cleared his throat and came closer.
“Wha- oh, hey James,” Tony said, squinting at him from around the light of the fridge. “What’re you doing up?”
“Couldn’t sleep. You?”
“Got tied up in paperwork and now I’m hungry.” Looking over his shoulder, James realized Tony’s problem; there was a bunch of food in the fridge, but it all needed to be cooked, and while Tony could cook, he was an indifferent chef at best. He would inevitably get impatient and turn up the burners to make everything cook faster, then wince his way gamely through his burnt meal and live off smoothies for the next few days.
James gently hipchecked him out of in front of the fridge and gestured for him to sit. “I’ll make you something.” He knew Tony was tired because he went without argument, claiming a seat at the bar and propping his head up on his fist as he watched James pulling eggs out of the fridge. “Omelet or scrambled?”
“Oh.” Tony perked up at that. “Omelet.”
As James chopped vegetables for the omelet, he was acutely aware of Tony’s eyes on him, feeling his gaze like the heat of the fire; despite that, though, the “What were you working on?” James said as the eggs started to sizzle.
“Budget forecasts,” Tony answered with a yawn. “It’s that time of year, so. I’ll be at it for the next few days.”
James made a face. “I thought you had people for that?” He gently sidled the spatula under the egg to fold it over without breaking it and plated it, sliding it across the bar to Tony.
“I do,” Tony said shortly as he started to eat.
It took James a moment to realize why Tony wouldn’t trust anyone else to approve Stark Industries’ budget. “Oh. Right.”
Tony shrugged, like yeah, I was betrayed by an old family friend and now I have trust issues, what do you do. “This is amazing,” he said, gesturing at the omelet with his fork. Tony’s eyes softened from their tiredness and he smiled, making James felt his face get warm and turned away from Tony to put the dishes in the dishwasher. “No problem,” he mumbled. James knew it was time to make his escape when he was tempted to drape himself like a blanket over the tired slump of Tony’s shoulders and press a kiss to his messy hair, so he said something about getting some sleep and fled.
———————
“No, it hasn’t happened yet, but it will, I swear,” Tony said into his phone as he bounded up the stairs leading to the shared living room. From his half-hidden position next to a giant ficus tree, James took the chance to look his fill before Tony noticed him. Today he was wearing a burgundy dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up over his forearms and a vest; his collar was unbuttoned and the small vee of skin showing there, the divot at the base of Tony’s throat, made James die a little. “Why do you care so much? Is there a betting pool? Do you have money on this? Because if so I want in.” As he listened to whoever was on the phone – probably Colonel Rhodes, judging from the way Tony was grinning at whatever he was saying – he was searching the couches and coffee tables.
James looked guiltily at Tony’s tablet on the table next to him, which he had used earlier instead of going all the way back to his room for his own. Discretely, he cleared the browser history and cleared his throat to get Tony’s attention, waving the tablet at him.
“Hold on a second,” Tony said into his phone then tucked it under his arm as he took the tablet. “Thanks, Terminator. How are you doing today?”
James shrugged, barely able to look at Tony straight on. “Not bad. Had therapy this morning.” The therapist had said that his infatuation with Tony was good, that it was a sign that he was emotionally ready for a relationship, and encouraged him to make a move. James had stared at her like she was speaking Ancient Greek. “Going to watch a movie with Steve and Sam this afternoon.”
“Oh, yeah?” Tony grinned. “Which movie?”
“The one about the giant shark.”
Tony made a thoughtful noise. “The dinosaur one is better. You and I should go see that one sometime.”
Now James was staring at Tony like he was speaking Ancient Greek. “Oh…kay?”
“Good.” With another blinding grin, Tony put his phone up to his ear. “Alright, I’m back, Rhodey. I have my tablet, what was it that you wanted me to look at?”
“He said we should go see a movie together,” James said. “What does that mean?”
Natasha shrugged and didn’t look up from painting her toenails. “That he wants to see a movie with you?”
“But is it a date? Did he ask me out on a date?” Is this what a heart attack felt like? James felt the need to lay down, so he slid out of the chair and laid down on the floor to stare at the ceiling.
“I don’t know, you’ll have to ask him.” She laughed when James said something uncomplimentary in Russian. “I think it’s a good idea though. You would be good for him.”
“How?” He asked, spreading his hands wide. “I’m a fucking basket case.”
“Bold of you to assume we aren’t all basket cases,” she said with a raised eyebrow. “But you’re a mother hen, it’s in your nature to take care of people. And Tony has a bad habit of running himself into the ground if he thinks it’s for a good cause, so if anyone could use a mother hen it’s him.”
James was speechless. “Mother hen?” he repeated incredulously, turning his head to look at her.
“You heard me.” Natasha straightened and admired her toes then started on the other foot.
James grunted and watched her careful strokes with the tiny paintbrush as he thought about what she’d said. What’s the worst that could happen? He couldn’t imagine Tony being cruel about turning him down if he wasn’t interested. And if he wasn’t, Bucky could track down the nearest Hydra base, wipe his own memory, and move to Mongolia. “Ok,” he said finally. “Sure. I’ll ask him out on a date.”
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In the movie theater when she was like “What happened to Auggie was all my fault” and Ramon’s like “No! It wasn’t!” I literally said out loud “No, it....it definitely was.”
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