James is actually surprised when he wakes up Christmas Eve morning and Tony is still in his bed. He glances outside to see that the weather is gray and snowy, but it doesn't really bother him. He declines the idea of getting out of bed yet, but he can't fall back asleep because he begins to think about why Tony is still here, why he even still wants him. He wonders why Tony's bringing him to Malibu but he doesn't think about it too long because Tony stirs next to him. He rolls onto his back and turns his head, giving James a small smile.

"Hey."

"Surprised you're still here," James says in all honesty. He didn't think Tony would exactly sneak out during the night. Tony's a forward guy and if he wants to leave, he doesn't have to be secretive about it.

Tony sighs in contentment and pulls the scratchy comforter further around his body. "Yeah. Imagine, though: Tony Stark caught sneaking out of Bucky Barnes's apartment."

"Oh, god. Okay, I've wanted to tell you this for a long time. Don't—don't call me Bucky. It's fuckin' weird."

Tony snorts. "What the hell am I supposed to call you?"

"James?" he supplies.

"I knew this Russian guy. He went by Sasha, short for Aleksandr."

"You're not—you're not going to call me Sasha."

"Definitely gonna start calling you Sasha," Tony chuckles, rolling over onto his side. The corners of his lips tug up and he's smirking and Sasha—no, Bucky—no, James smirks as well.

"What?"

"I gotta go," Tony says quietly. "I can't leave Steve alone today. I'm an ass, but I'm not sure if I'm that huge of an ass."

James groans because he knows that was coming, but he's not as upset as he could be because Tony's dragging him out to Malibu for God only knows how long. He hums softly when Tony rolls over to kiss him and he has half a mind to pull Tony closer and pin him on the bed. He doesn't, though. Tony slides out of bed and James falls back asleep to the sound of his running shower.

Steve is on the couch with a cup of coffee when Tony walks into his sight. He's surprised to see him to say the least.

"Hi," Tony says simply, offering him a small smile.

Steve doesn't want to fight on Christmas Eve so he returns the smile. "Hey. You want a cup of coffee?"

Tony shrugs out of his coat, humming. "I wouldn't mind one."

Steve leaves his cup on the coffee table, leaving momentarily and returning with a steaming cup of coffee just the way Tony likes it.

"You're still planning on going to Malibu the day after tomorrow?" Steve asks quietly as he settles back down on the couch with his coffee in his lap.

"Yeah. I think we need the time apart. You never know; it could do us some good. I'm not saying time apart would fix everything, but I hope that time apart can help us both reflect on some stuff," Tony shrugs. He runs a nervous hand through his hair. "I know we agreed no presents this year but I—um, did you find the chocolates I left in the—?"

"I found them," Steve says softly, smiling into his coffee mug slightly as he takes a sip. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Hey, are you... do you wanna go back to bed?" Tony asks bluntly, because Tony doesn't really know how to be any other way. Part of him just wants to get lost and not think about all of things that have happened, and part of him wants to see if he and Steve still have any chemistry.

"I'm—sure, if that's—if you want to," Steve shrugs. He kicks himself because he definitely sounds too excited.

Tony finishes his cup of coffee and sets it on the table, standing up and offering his hand to Steve. "Let's go."

Tony concludes that there is very little chemistry left between himself and his husband. The sex is awkward and they're bumbling like it's their first time. Tony tries his best to keep things normal but Steve isn't helping because he's insisting that they do it missionary, which is Tony's least favorite position. At least, it's his least favorite position with Steve.

It's blatantly obvious that Tony isn't remotely interested anymore. He can't even make himself come. Steve doing his best to keep Tony entertained but failing miserably. He manages to reach climax but Tony doesn't. Tony fakes it with a groan so he can just be done already, falling off to the side.

Around noon Bucky—no, James—receives a text from Tony to get his things packed because he's flying early. James shrugs because he doesn't really have anything else to do, so he packs a bag of clothes and follows the instructions he receives.

Within minutes of stepping off the jet James decides that he hates California. It's sunny not at all like New York. Tony's mansion is, well, a mansion and the amount of glass makes him uncomfortable. He sighs and goes to see that the fridge has been fully stocked, grabbing a beer and settling on the sofa because it's going to be a long two days of a wait.

Over the next two days James makes himself comfortable. He looks through every nook and cranny of the place, coming to the conclusion that Tony rarely brings Steve here. There are a few traces of him, but not too many, and James finds that very comforting.

Tony's flight comes in after dark on the 26th and he wastes no time finding James in the master bedroom. After several heated kisses Tony retrieves a box from under the bed and tosses it to his lover.

"Put this on," Tony instructs.

James flips back the lid of the box to find black lingerie. Okay, so it's not an entire set of lingerie, but it's stockings, a garter belt and lace fucking panties.

"I don't want—"

"Sasha," Tony coos, and he's totally fucking grinning.

James rolls his eyes and threatens, "If you call me that again I'm not going to wear this." He climbs off the bed and heads to the bathroom.

By the time James returns Tony is naked, his half-erect cock in his hand as he eyes James because he looks stunning. Tony didn't think his legs could look any longer or leaner, but they do, and Tony is thrilled.

"Oh. Oh, you look fantastic. Come here," he says, making grabby hands and he smiles even wider when James's small hips are in his grasp.

James feels like playing games so he leans in to whisper in Tony's ear, nipping lightly at his jaw. "I wanna christen every fucking room of this place," he breathes. Tony promptly grabs James by the arm and drags him to the living room.

They're both so wet. They're so, so wet and slick with sweat and James is on Tony's lap with his arms locked around his neck, moaning every time Tony's cock thrusts into him. They're both so high right now and Tony's pawing at James's erect nipples and everything is just so good.

Tony pulls James by his hips so their bellies are flush together and James's dick is squished between their bodies and it's so good that James's eyes are wet with tears. He opens them momentarily and catches his own reflection in the large window behind the couch they're on. His lips are so, so red and his cheeks flushed and his eyes are glossed over. He doesn't even look like himself anymore. He's transfixed by the image and he can't look away. He wants to see himself; he wants to see how good he looks when Tony fucks him.

He's close; he knows that. Tony's hands slide down to his thighs and he's stroking them through the silky stockings. James reaches for his cock, his eyes locked on his own reflection, and he draws moans out of himself by his own actions.

Tony's whispering now and that's what finally pushes him over the edge. "That's right, come on, come for me, baby," he coaxes, and James does. He lets out a low moan that echoes throughout the entire mansion and he catches a glimpse of his face when he comes. He throws his head back, his lips parted and he feels Tony spill inside of him. They're both heaving and exhausted and James rests his head on top of Tony's, slowly coming down from what's surely the best high he's ever had.