Steve/Tony/Bucky – “I think you missed your calling.”

alchemyalice:

“Okay,” Bucky mutters finally, when they’re back in the tower, “This has got to stop.” 

Because somehow, in the interval since things stopped exploding in Times Square, Tony and Steve have managed to sustain an argument through hazmat cleanup, debrief, and fucking showering. They are marathon arguers. Bucky hasn’t been this emotionally exhausted by someone else’s problems since Steve tried to join the army. And that’s including his time as a HYDRA asset.

“Good luck with that,” Clint says, shucking off his arm guard and heading off in the direction of the kitchen. “I’ll be way, way over there, with the coffeepot. Natasha’s coming with.”

Natasha nods in agreement.

“So’s Bruce, Bruce is in need of tea and possibly some space where yelling isn’t happening,” Bruce says. “Thor?”

“I have a date,” Thor says, a bit apologetically. “It was delayed by our recent skirmish, and so I must make it up to Jane.”

“Excellent, great,” Bucky says, pinching his nose. “Get out of here, all of you.”

Steve and Tony, of course, continued to snipe back and forth, oblivious. 

“I was giving you intel in real time, Steven, I literally could not have given it to you any faster—”

“You base your judgments on predictions all the time, Tony, I need to know what your thinking, not just what’s happening at that one moment—”

“I think faster than I speak, okay, it’s a common problem, though generally not as severe as mine given just how fast I’m capable of thinking—”

“I just need you to listen—”

“I do listen, but that’s just one factor in—”

Bucky marches over and bodily shoves himself between them, and—wow, there is not a lot of space here, actually. Apparently Steve and Tony are both not only marathon arguers, but also close talking arguers. 

“Shut the fuck up,” he says, trying to ignore how he’s basically chest-to-chest with Tony, and chest-to-back with Steve. “Shut up, both of you, you’ve had this exact same argument at least three times since I’ve been with the team, which means that this has been going on for months. You,” he shoves a finger in Tony’s bemused face, “Need to be clearer. We’ll take you at your word, you don’t need to explain your entire rationale, but you need to at least give us one good reason to change a plan, none of this dramatic unpredictable labyrinthine martyrdom crap. 

“And you,” he hissed, twisting around to crane his neck up and glare at Steve, “Need to get your head out of your ass and accept that you are the eyes on the ground, and not the ones in the air. You trusted me when I was your sniper, didn’t you? Exactly,” he says himself, not giving Steve a chance to answer, “That’s what Stark’s doing, that’s his view. You gotta trust what he sees in the air. And both of you,” he prods them both in their respective chests, “Need to stop worrying so goddamn much about each other. I realise that’s difficult with the whole mutual infatuation society you’ve got goin’ on here, but enough’s e-goddamn-nough. You’re gonna get both of your asses dead trying to save each other at some point, and then where the fuck am I gonna be? Christ.”

He takes a breath, huffs, and then crosses his arms in preparation for whatever defensive flailing these dumbasses will no doubt default to. He might have gotten off track a bit there at the end, but he’s pretty satisfied his point has been made.

There’s a pause, and then Tony cocks his head. 

“Wow, Barnes,” he says. “Hidden depths, there.”

Oh no. “Stark, I am warning you—”

“I haven’t heard you lecture anyone like that, ‘sides me,” Steve comments. “You got a soft spot for Tony, or something?”

“And ‘labyrinthine’, where the fuck did you pick that up?” Tony asks.

“Like you said, hidden depths,” Steve replies over Bucky’s head, which, goddamnit, Bucky’s beginning to really miss being taller than this asshole. “I think you missed your calling, Buck. Conflict resolution, it’s the new thing.” 

“Well, who wouldn’t want to stop fighting, a pretty face like his making big eyes at you,” Tony observes.

Bucky looks at the ceiling, and wishes for death. “You idiots are missing my point,” he says. 

“We argue because it’s a good way of working off the adrenaline,” Steve offers. 

“And because it’s great foreplay,” Tony adds. He frowns. “Which reminds me, Steve, we haven’t actually followed through with that, yet.”

Steve has the gall to look a little affronted. “I was waiting for you to make a move.”

“I was waiting on you!”

“I cannot believe either of you,” Bucky states, because it bears saying. 

“What?” Tony asks, resting his chin on Bucky’s shoulder. “You want in on this, Barnes? Because I, for one, would not say no.”

Bucky chokes. 

Steve raises an eyebrow. “I’d argue, but I think Buck might strangle us if I do, and ‘sides, I’m finding that we’re in agreement on this one.” 

“I don’t like where this conversation is going!” Clint suddenly shouts from the kitchen, startling all three of them. Tony steadies himself with a hand on Bucky’s hip, which is sort of distracting. “For the sake of my virgin ears, please take it elsewhere!”

“There’s nothing about you that’s virgin, Barton,” they hear Natasha retort, followed by what sounds like a slap fight.

“We could do that,” Tony says lowly, his thumb going back and forth on the skin beneath Bucky’s t-shirt. “Get a room, that is. If you’re interested.”

Bucky swallows. “I, uh.” 

“We probably need a mediator,” Steve points out. “In this, as much as anything else.”

“You’re such a little shit,” Bucky says—croaks, more like. 

He can feel his blood rushing in his ears, Steve’s chest is warm against his back, and Tony’s giving him expectant doe eyes. It’s entirely possibly that he will regret this. 

“Yeah, fine, lead the way,” he says anyway, and can’t help but be pleased by Steve’s delighted grin, and the way Tony’s grip goes hot and tight, pulling him along.