James is standing at the sink sort of in a daze when Tony presses up against him. He hums at the kisses placed on the side of his neck and smiles lazily. He's definitely not expecting it when Tony's hand slides into his lace panties and cups his dick, giving it a gentle squeeze. He slips out of Tony's grasp, turning to smirk at him. "Not so fast."

"But we agreed to fuck after breakfast."

"I never agreed to anything. You're the one who promised," James reminds him. "But now I'm having second thoughts."

"About what?"

"You can't fuck me until we go out to dinner. No—you can't even touch me until we do."

Tony lets out an annoyed sigh, frowning with his best attempt at looking like a saddened puppy. "That's not fair."

"How is it not fair?"

"You know it's a bad idea to go out together. You know what could happen."

James rolls his eyes and wonders how long Tony is going to hang on to his crumbling marriage. "You should just—why can't you just tell Steve it's over? Doing this is only making things harder for all of us."

"How is this hard for you, exactly?"

James opens his mouth briefly but decides not to say anything. He heads for the bar because he definitely needs a drink.

"I'm serious," Tony clarifies, following him. He plucks the bottle of whiskey from James' grip and sets it back on the bar. "How is this hard for you?"

"Shit, Tony, I don't know!" he remarks sarcastically. "I have to sneak around with the one person I never, in my entire fucking life, thought I would ever even care about. And that person happens to be my friend's husband. What the hell am I supposed to do with that, huh? Tell me. Because I don't fuckin' know."

"Okay," Tony replies meekly. "I understand how that can be hard."

James reaches down to pop the elastic at the top of his thigh high stockings. "I feel fucking stupid wearing these outside of the bedroom but I do it for you because you're into it. You can't say you love me, and you don't want to be seen with me at all. I feel like a cheap fuck. Are you ever going to leave Steve or are you waiting for him to leave you? Because I don't think he ever will. Steve doesn't quit. If you want out of your marriage you're gonna have to do it yourself."

"You feel stupid wearing those?" Tony asks, gesturing to the stockings.

James groans, shaking his head. "Forget about the stockings. Just answer my question: are you ever gonna leave him?"

"Yes. Right now isn't the right time and when he does find out I want it to come from me and not some fucking tabloid site on the internet."

James crosses his arms and looks away. "You treat me like a cheap fuck and it's getting old."

"James," Tony mutters. Making James feel like a cheap fuck is the absolute last thing Tony ever intends to do. He cares about him. Really, he does, but Steve is getting in the way of that. "You know—you've gotta know that you're the most important thing to me. And a cheap fuck is the furthest thing from what you are; from what you mean to me. I chose you. Months ago, I chose you. Steve and I are over. Fuck, we were over before you even set foot in the tower." Tony sighs heavily because although he feels like a prick, he's glad to get that off his chest.

"You mean—?" he asks quietly. He's always wondering about whether or not he's the cause of their problems. Steve makes him feel that way sometimes.

"It's not your fault. We were over a long time ago," Tony mutters, looking up at James. "A threesome was kind of a last-ditch effort to save our relationship. That backfired like a son of a bitch."

James emits a snuffled laugh. "I guess it did."

Tony stares at him for a short moment. "You need to take those off," he says, pointing to the lace panties that James is sporting. "Or rather, let me," he says, stepping forward.

James takes a step back. "Nope. Not until we go out for food."

"I swear to you we'll go tonight. Just please," Tony nearly whines. "God, just let me worship you for, like, thirty seconds."

"No. I'm gonna go take an actual shower and wash my hair. You could use one, too."

"What am I supposed to do until we get home from dinner?"

"Go play in the lab or something."

Tony decides not to go to the lab. He decides, instead, to pull on a pair of sweat pants and a tank top and wait for James to get out of the shower. By the time James emerges, Tony is settled down in front of the TV and Tony gives him a genuine smile.

"Sit with me," Tony says quietly. James does, and breaks his own rule of not being touched by Tony until they go out to dinner. Tony just looks so comforting and James knows from experience that he is entirely comfortable to sleep on. Therefore, he sprawls out on the couch with his head in Tony's lap.

"You should wear these more often," James observes, plucking at Tony's tank top. "They make your arms look good."

Tony hums, shrugging. "You should wear nothing more often. It makes your ass look good."

"Okay," James replies, resisting the urge to smile.

"So, you like it here?"

"No," he snorts. "I fucking hate this weather. It's too hot. It's too sunny."

"I was gonna stay you should stay here while I go back to New York and settle things."

"I don't wanna stay here."

"Look, we'll talk about this later. Shut up," Tony demands, closing his eyes and allowing his head to fall back.

James complies, closing his eyes as well when Tony's fingers tangle in his hair.

James tries not to roll his eyes when they climb out of Tony's car at the dilapidated-looking diner. The entire point of going to the shitty diner is the fact that they're trying to be inconspicuous. And the fact that Tony Stark's Audi is parked next to a shitty purple Scion is not helping matters.

"Have you been here before?" James asks as they head for the door.

He nods. "Place looks like shit, but the burgers are amazing."

Halfway through the "date" of sorts, James puts his burger down and stares across the table. "This is really good."

"I know." James is certain Tony is already claiming his prize.

"To be honest I didn't think you'd go through with it."

Tony smirks and shrugs a shoulder. "Well, the prize was easily attainable and highly sought after, so."

James rolls his eyes and totally contemplates breaking his beer bottle against Tony's head. Instead, he just looks at him blankly. "Now I'm a prize?"

"Oh my god," Tony mutters.

"You think I'm serious. That's funny."

"Would you just eat so we can go home?"

It's kind of impulsive, but they don't go home immediately. They drive down to the beach and have a totally intense make out session in Tony's car like horny teenagers. When they do reach the house, they can't even make it to the bedroom before Tony's hands begin to wander. When they're inside James flops back on the bed, sighing out. He should be surprised when Tony approaches him, crawling onto the bed and hovering above him on all fours, but he's not.

Tony gives him the smallest smile, reaching up to brush a long piece of hair away from James' face. Tony's palm cups his cheek and before Tony's got time to react, James turns his head to kiss his palm. "Do you love me?" he asks softly.

Tony swallows and looks to the side briefly. "Bucky," he groans.

"I told you not to call me that."

Tony looks down at him directly. "It slipped."

James' nostrils flare and he reaches up, slapping Tony's cheek. "It slipped," he shrugs.

"I don't want to fight. I want my prize," he whines, running his fingers down the metallic arm beneath him. "I want you."

So it's not 'I love you' but it's better than nothing. And judging by the expression on Tony's face he really does mean it. James reaches up and brings Tony's face down to his own, kissing him softly. He's surprised when Tony returns the kiss with the same amount of patience.

An hour later, James' head is resting comfortably against Tony's shoulder, his hair pushed back from his face and he isn't suspecting to hear the words that Tony says.

"I think you're gonna be good for me."

"What?" James has to ask. He props himself up on his elbow, staring down at the man beneath him. "What the hell are you talking about? I'm—I'm not good. Steve would be good for you."

Tony shakes his head. "Steve isn't good for me. You're good for me. We're compatible—"

"We have good sex. That's it; we're amazing fuck partners."

"No we aren't," Tony frowns. "I mean, we are, but let's be honest; that's about ninety-five percent me."

"That's not fair and you know it. Maybe it's ninety-five perfect you when you're with Steve. But with us I'd say it's an equal fifty-fifty. We have amazing chemistry and you can't deny that."

"That's beside the point. What I'm saying is that I think I can be myself around you and you'll put up with it, because you're okay with it, and you don't care about trying to make me do things that I don't want to do. You're not controlling like Steve is."

"Right," James agrees. "But I'm not going to go grocery shopping like Steve does. Or cook, or do any of that shit."

"Which leaves more time for you to sit around looking beautiful for me," Tony grins triumphantly.

"Natasha's gonna kill us both, you know," James mutters.

"What's she gonna do to you? Scream at you in Russian? It's not your fault we're getting divorced."

"Did Tony Stark just admit he's guilty? I'll be damned."

"Shut the fuck up."

"Make me."

Tony is far too tired to accept that challenge. So instead, he sighs heavily. "I'm going home next week to talk to Steve."

"Why next week?" James frowns. He's been hoping that they'll have at least another month together before Tony leaves.

"Because I can't keep doing this," Tony sighs. "And I want out of that marriage. Now."