Steve was negotiating with a shifty homeless man in an alley again, and Tony was on backup. Again.
Alright, alright. Not just a shifty homeless man. The shifty homeless man. Bucky Barnes, Winter Soldier, Snow White...whatever it was he was answering to these days. In any case, the guy was clearly suffering from a pretty severe case of freezer burn, and Tony didn't think that the prospects of a total recall looked particularly good. But Steve wasn't giving up, bless his naive star-spangled heart. Just kept tracking the dude down over and over. Still, there wasn't anything wrong with his memory, so he had agreed to always bring an escort in case the situation went south.
It had gone south more times than bear mentioning. The Bucksicle ("Oh my god, Tony. That particular nickname formula wasn't even funny the first time.") was proving himself a fickle beast. He had only been loosed on the streets about a month or so ago, and he still had the nerves of a cracked-out jackrabbit, the memory of a goldfish, and, regrettably, the reflexes of a WWII sniper. He hadn't seriously attempted to harm Steve since the battle at the Triskellion, but nobody wanted to take any chances.
Steve's voice had gotten low and urgent. Tony flipped down his visor and spiraled in his optics for a closer look at the proceedings. He had a reasonable view from his perch on the roof of the seedy massage parlor (Cap had insisted he keep his distance. Christ, it was like taking a 15-year-old to the mall with her friends), but he couldn't hear any of the specifics.
He saw more or less what he expected: Steve speaking gently and emphatically, hands open in a show of peaceful intent, while his wayward companion stood poised to spring like a cornered animal. Bucky's eyes were wild. His appearance was wilder. Hello, North American Sasquatch, thought Tony. Next time I'm going to try tranqing him just so someone can give him a bath and a shave.
The situation was increasingly tense. Bucky had that frightened, feral look that suggested that his brain was trying to tear itself in two, and Steve just looked miserable. Poor kid. "That's gotta be rough." Tony muttered to himself. He flipped his visor up and began fumbling with the soda can he had tucked in his suit's brand-new refrigerated cup holders (latest feature!). "Aaugh. Damn robot fingers."
He had only just succeeded in popping the tab—and tearing half of the can apart, but what are you going to do—when an increase in volume down in the alley caught his attention. Tony took a swig and flipped his visor down again.
Bucky was backed nearly up to the wall. Tony thought he had a look of bewildered almost-recognition about him, but he was probably too spooked to do any further mental gymnastics. After all, Steve kept steadily approaching him. This struck Tony as unwise. He only had a three-quarter view of the Cap now, but from the way he was moving he looked nervous as hell. It was probably about time to give up for the day. Not that Steve had ever been very good at that whole "giving up" thing.
Then, in one swift motion, Steve pulled Bucky's face towards his and kissed him hard on the mouth. In a second swift motion, Tony spewed soda all over the inside of his helmet.
Coughing and fumbling with the controls, he launched himself off of the roof and towards the two men in the alley, zooming in his optics as far as he could. To his astonishment, he saw that nobody had died and that Bucky had in fact stopped moving and was staring at Steve with an expression of slack-jawed wonder, looking as if he were trying to say something. Then, finally, he spoke:
"Steve?"
The owner of the name garbled a sound of unintelligible joy and fell to his knees. Tony touched down behind him.
"Hey, Romeo! Creative."
Steve turned with a start, but before he could say anything, Bucky began to speak haltingly.
"Robert. Rory. Rogers. Is your last name 'Rogers?' Did you ride the Cyclone once? Who is that behind you?" He paused, licking his cracked lips. "...Did you just kiss me?"
Steve shot Tony a frantic warning glance. "You say nothing," he hissed.
"I say nothing!" Tony said.
(Tumblr is going to have fits, Tony thought.)
