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Tony groaned, scrubbing his face as he stared at the box. Wrapped in brilliant red paper with golden flecks in it, the box presented a quandary. The sparkles from it left brilliant points of light bouncing over the lab, shimmering and dancing with every move of the light sources in the complex overhead lighting.
Tony suspected JARVIS was moving them just to make it impossible to ignore. He would tell him to stop, except that meant admitting he was unnerved.
It had started with a small box of sculpted chocolates. Handmade, and each painted to look like little dogs. Pinks and Purples and Blues. That it was his zodiac made it amusing. Tony had just thought it was a thoughtful Easter themed gift from Bucky. Then a week later, it had been a box of candied mangos, and cream cheese cookies that were crisp outside and buttery like the lightest, fluffiest scone inside. The way they melted in the mouth had been incredible.
Tony had gotten Bucky a few pairs of custom-made Pajama pants after that, not liking how unbalanced it felt. Bucky had thanked Tony profusely, and seemed delighted.
The way he grinned like a total nerd while strutting around the living room in the Buck Rogers ray gun covered flannel pants had been totally worth it.
The next gift was the one where Tony started to maybe suspect that, it wasn’t an accident. It was the first week of May- and Bucky had given him carefully candied rose in full bloom. A rich, deep, romantic red. Each petal edged with pink and blue and purple, all colors of new love, hand candied and re-assembled, dots of sugar gluing them back to the base. The beautiful bloom was as much art as food.
And Tony had been unable to let it go. Of course he didn’t ask. He couldn’t ask. What if it was just an accident? What if Bucky was just being fancy and enjoying the new world? It was Vietnamese culture he was signalling in, and he wasn’t Vietnamese.
But it was too many times to be just coincidence. But it couldn’t be that. Except Bucky hadn’t ever been mad about Tony not opening the gifts in front of him.
Except Bucky had downplayed the gifts, just saying he had wanted to make them and thought Tony might enjoy them. Every time.
Tony groans again and scrubs his face a little harder, throwing down the stylus he had been using before shoving the chair back, getting up to begin heading for the mini fridge. The filter is gotten down from the DUM-E free cabinet, rinsed, and the three scoops of coffee beans go into the grinder. He pulls out the can of condensed milk while the grinder whirrs loud and fast, checking the date on the brilliant green plastic lid absently, before scooping up two large spoons of the milk into the cup. Ca phe was his self care exercise.
Tony remembers his mother teaching him how to make it, as his mind, so caught up on what the gifts could mean, stirs up long dormant memories. He suddenly felt swamped with a wave of nostalgia, as well as a grief that still stung, all these years later. He had always been close to his mother, enjoying the rare visits to Vietnam with her, to visit his grandparents while they were alive. Those trips were special to him, even if he always had to be on his very best behavior. Tony swore, when he was on his last business trip to Saigon, he swore he could still feel his mom’s hand, squeezing his thigh in reprimand for anything but being scrupulously polite.
Obi had commented that it was the only place in the world he never partied in.
The threat to move Tony’s labs there, had not gone over well. Tony hadn’t been back since then. He had to fix that. She’d be so sad at him, which was far worse than when she was mad. He shouldn’t have let Obi take that from him.
The water was boiling, the can of sweetened condensed milk was back in the fridge, and his hands were tamping the grinds on automatic. The steady thunk of knocking the metal on the counter was something as close to meditation as Tony could do. Six thunks, and three tamps with the strainer- and then the small pot for pouring into the filter. 20 ml, then when it was expanded, the other 60. Tony popped the metal lid on, and sat, watching it drip into the cup.
Could Bucky really be flirting with him? Wooing him? They were friends. And if he did, wouldn’t it be, like, a bunch of flowers? Asking him on a date? I mean, it’s not like Tony really lived at all like he valued his Vietnamese culture. Hell, it was barely trotted out by the gossip rags except when he ate at a Chinese restaurant or something.
So why would he do that? Was this because Tony had gotten that stuff for Haunukah for Bucky? Tony knew what bullshit the holidays could be. He had gotten pretty drunk on Valentines. What had he said to Bucky? Had he led him on? Was he just chasing his tail? He was turning 40 in two weeks, was this just, wishful thinking and a midlife crisis?
He huffed, massaging above his right eyebrow and vaugely wishing he really believed in God or Buddah or anything but science. Then he remembered if there was really Karma, he of all people would never be allowed nice things. And Bucky wanting to date him? That seemed like a pretty nice thing. The man was sweeter than the milk at the bottom of his cup, richer than coffee, he was a perfect man. He laughed, he was smart, he was a nerd, and even with bad old science, he ran circles around anyone but Tony when it came to math in his head.
He was always reading, or more, having JARVIS read to him. He was always asking Tony questions, and at some point they had started making “Pop Culture T Days” a thing. Saturday, Tuesday, and Thursdays, they would watch a couple of movies or shotgun half a season of a show, and Tony would talk if it was newer, or if it was the old film reels from before World War II, Bucky would.
It was, special. It was something Tony didn’t want to lose, if he fucked this up. What if Bucky wasn’t really trying to woo him?
Tony lifted the filter and stirred the ca phe. The rich color reminded him of the highlights in Bucky’s hair, a tone of chocolate that matched the rich milk chocolate that the blue dog had been made of.
Tony sipped it, turning to finally stare at the source of all this confusion and- probable insanity. Part of him really wished he wasn’t wrong, and Bucky was just, being Bucky. Sweet and having fun. Being generous with his time and energy.
The last dregs of sweet coffee came too soon. He took the time to rinse everything and put it away, conscious he was only delaying the inevitable. Fuck.
He went to the box and looked at the paper. Closer, he could tell it was fancy, specialty paper, like you’d get from some uptown boutique… however an even closer look showed that the flecks made symbols like the Starfleet insignia, or the Rebellion Signet, or… “JARVIS? Did Bucky make this paper himself?”
The answer was swift, and a bit snippy. “Sargent Barnes has made all the wrapping papers by hand, on your gifts.” Tony’s stomach sank, and suddenly he felt like a total heel. He’d just been tearing it. It’d been higher quality each time, but he hadn’t really registered that before.
He swallowed hard, finding the ends of the tape, and gently peeling it up to unfold it. Buck Rogers crest stood there, and The Shadow, next to the Bat Signal.
The wrapping paper had more thought into it, than any gift he’d gotten since Rhodey gave him something in college. Since… his parents died. Fuck. He wished he’d known, and wondered if the other wrapping papers had such designs, had as much care put into their creation.
He held it up to the light, and felt even worse. Carefully, the paper was thinner in the shape of his arc-reactor, so in the light the glitter designs looked darker- standing out more- and the overall effect was closer to stained glass.
Tony carefully straightened it, not letting himself think about that. About any of this. Instead he gently opened the pastry box inside. Brilliant Pink. Inside, was a mung bean cake. It was in the shape of his reactor. Carefully and perfectly reproduced in the pattern on top.
This time, there was also a note.
Tony stared at it like it might be a snake. The careful, slanted script of Bucky trying to write neatly, was there in gold on the red envelope.
Like Tony was Royalty enough to deserve gold ink. Tony’s stomach flipped and flopped, his heart hammering. Okay. He had to open it.
The back was tucked into the envelope, of course it was re-usable.
Of course, the paper was also hand made. The heavy cloth like feel gave it away. As did the slight mottling of the colors along the edges. The script inside was well practiced, and Tony would be willing to bet a month’s earnings that Bucky had practiced it a dozen times before setting pen to this paper.
“Dear Tony,
I know you may not yet know my feelings. At first, I wondered if it was too subtle. Then I wondered if I was being offensive with my gifts. But, I’ve talked with JARVIS a lot, and he has really helped me research these gifts.
There is no pressure with them. I give them, to my benefit. Because I want to give them. But they do not have to be accepted with the love I am giving them with. When you researched Jewish Holidays, when you did all that work to find the old reels for us to watch together, or tracked down the old recipes for candies and had them made to satisfy my nostalgia… I don’t think you were trying to woo me. But I was wooed all the same.
I know you don’t even think about your acts of care and kindness. For you, giving, and going so far for people, is just part of how you show care. But for me? It means the world.
I am writing this letter to express that I love you. I love you as a friend. I love you as a person loves a soul mate. I would like to take you on a Date, before your birthday, if you wanted to see if love could grow of a romantic kind between us. I hope this is a good change for us, but if you don’t feel the same, or do not want to date me, please, just don’t say anything.
We can continue as we are, close friends. If you want to try dating, just, come let me know before next Friday.
Again, I hope I was right, that you were close with your mother, and her culture. If not, you can chalk these gifts up as my trying to find things you did not already have, and would enjoy even if you were only interested in being friends.
Lovingly hopeful,
James Buchanan Barnes”
Tony stares at it, at the rambling pace, the fretting that is a near match for his own. Bucky had done all of these gifts, and had been hinting, ever less subtly, all this time. The Arc Reactor. His heart.
Bucky had given him his heart. Made him a heart, that would only mean that to them. He refolded the letter and set it on the wrapping paper, reverently.
“JARVIS, where is Bucky right now?”
“I believe he is in the communal kitchen, baking more of the cream cheese cookies you had mentioned were delicious last night during the movie.” There was a bit of smugness, and really, Tony did not know when his AI son had gotten such an attitude. Really.
The elevator was slow, and when the doors opened, there was Bucky, singing along to Weird Al’s The Saga Begins, hips bopping back and forth as he is elbows deep in a large mixing bowl.
Tony pauses for a moment, struck by the sudden desire to run away. Instead he moved closer. He was just at the edge of the Kitchen tile when Bucky looked up. The music was moving into the quiet recounting of the battle of Naboo, but it faded, unable to overpower the thunder of his own heart. Bucky started to say something, and Tony really didn’t know what. Probably Hi. Or Tony.
The hope, and hint of worry in Bucky’s eyes spoke louder. Bucky really thought Tony could get all those gifts. Could spend all this time together. Could have so many special moments with someone that valued him, loved him so selflessly, and somehow not be selfish enough to want to keep him all to himself?
Tony had his hands in the thick curls, sinking in just under the manbun as he tugged Bucky down for a kiss, first wide eyed then melting into it with an ease that made Tony’s hands tighten a fraction. The moan into his own mouth only spurred Tony on, the kiss going hotter, till his lungs were burning with a need for air. He felt a little smug at how stunned and lusty Bucky’s own silverblue eyes were, the iris rims thin where they stared down into Tony’s own eyes. Tony grinned, and at the hoarse and shocked “So, that’s a yes to the date?”, he couldn’t stop the laughter.
It was euphoric, like the rush of his first flight. Reckless and wonderful. Life changing in all the best ways. “Yes, it was a yes.” Tony managed, his cheeks hurting from the smile, as Bucky’s own full lips tugged into a matching dopey grin.
“Hot damn” summed it up as Bucky grabbed Tony’s shoulders and pulled him in for another kiss. On pulling back, however, there was a look of horror. Tony looked down, seeing the tacky handprints of cream dough on his pink silk shirt. The laughter this time was giddy, unstoppable even as his eyes watered and his face got red with it even while Bucky kept apologizing.
He finally gathered himself enough to tug Bucky into another kiss. “hey, no, this is just the first of many clothes I hope to ruin with you.” He winks, prompting Bucky to give a beautiful blush, that only makes Tony want to kiss him again. Instead he flicks a finger out at Bucky, “Tonight, we sit and talk. And have a stay at home date. My lab. Lucca’s. PJs mandatory. Then we can do your date. Sound good?” Bucky, looking more than a little stunned, nods.
Tony drops another kiss on Bucky’s chin then nods at the oven “Your timer’s about to go off.” While Bucky’s distracted, he goes to make his escape. It’s not noble. It’s not even very good. But he maybe needs to go hyperventilate in his lab for a bit.
Bucky loves him. And he maybe, has loved Bucky too. He really wishes he’d realized that a little sooner. But maybe it needed to happen like this.
He really had just- grabbed Bucky and kissed him.
Tony touched his lips where they tingled, warm and bruised from the deeper kiss, heat still zinging through his nerves. He pondered dating, and the second date, and thought vaguely on wishing he could bring Bucky to meet his mother, before thinking, why not. Maybe a few dates from now.
Tony can’t help but think… she’d have liked Bucky. Mostly because Tony was head over heels in love with him. But also, because he made Tony this happy. Feel this special. Tony stared at the box, and at the wrapping paper, before going to design a frame for it, so it could hang in front of a light- with other lights moving to illuminate the golden glitter- to send sparkles of light bouncing around the room. That was, a good goal for them.
To share a love that shed as much light and had as many layers to it.