Archive of Our Own ^beta

Tony Stark hates soulmates.

Even when he was little, when his mother still read him bedtime stories about true love and happily ever after, he knew deep down that they were a total load of crap.

Well, he didn’t think in those exact terms at the time, but he did know that every time his mother explained to him that his soulmate was the other half of his soul, that they were so connected, so perfect for each other, that they literally shared their skin … he knew she was wrong.

It wasn’t until he was older, after Jarvis had died and coming home to the mansion for the holidays felt as cold and empty as if he’d been frozen in ice, that he understood that even as a child he’d known his mother would have been better off if she’d never met Howard Stark.

If she’d seen his writing on her skin on her eighteenth birthday and just … just ignored it, that she’d be happy now. She’d have been happy all of her life, rather than a candle going out, day after day, growing dimmer until she was little more than a paper spectre drifting around a giant, empty, loveless house.

But she’d done what everyone does when they turn eighteen – she’d written on her own skin in response to her soulmate’s handwritten message, and they’d quickly arranged to meet and marry and did all the things that soulmates were supposed to do.

And she’d been miserable.

So Tony knew the truth: soulmates were a big fat lie. If your soul was rotten and miserable and frozen solid (like Howard’s) then you were just consigning another poor soul to a lifetime of being poisoned by you – by the one person who was supposed to be there for you no matter what.

Even if your soul wasn’t rotten like that, even if you found another person who was there for you like they were supposed to be – that didn’t stop them from dying, from your soul literally being ripped in two. And then what were you supposed to do? Tony had seen the way Jarvis had slowly faded away, after Ana had died.

You were better off alone, than suffering through any of that.

And yet.

Tony knew that – as much as the world was a cruel place and that ‘fate’ was a load of nonsense and that it was only a matter of time before some intrepid scientist found out the truth behind why people really shared their skin with another person – he knew that despite all that, there was a tiny chance (really, astronomically tiny, he’d done the math) that he would be one of the lucky few who happened to have a soulmate who was what all the legends and Hallmark movies said it was.

He’d hoped it was Rhodey, for their first year at MIT.

He’d never felt so close to anyone before, so comfortable. Like he could just be himself. He’d hoped that Rhodey would wake up on his eighteenth birthday and not find any writing because Tony still had years to go. He’d rolled out of bed, bright and eager, and gone to shake Rhodey awake. His hope lasted all of the two minutes it took for Rhodey to look down at his arm and see someone else’s handwriting scrawled across it.

Tony spent the rest of the day in his lab.

He didn’t need a soulmate anyway, he reminded himself. He didn’t need anyone. (DUM-E was born three weeks later.)

When his parents died in a car crash a few days after his seventeenth birthday it was almost a relief. At least his mother wouldn’t have to suffer any more, he thought, as he stood in front of their tombstones, rain sliding down the back of his neck. At least her soul was finally free.

Most of that year was a blur. Rhodey wasn’t around anymore, though he still called whenever his busy training schedule allowed, which wasn’t all that often. But between the parties and the PhD Tony didn’t have time to think about anything, especially not something as stupid as his soulmate. He had a company to run (as soon as he was twenty one) and the future to build. He didn’t have room in his life for anything – for anyone – else.

Yet no matter how much he drank, or how many nights he stayed up in his lab, he couldn’t stop the way his nerves began to thrum in the weeks leading up to his eighteenth birthday.

On more than one occasion he found himself with a pen in his hand, arms covered in ink, trying to make his handwriting look a little less like the messy, chaotic scrawl that it was.

Then Howard’s voice would echo in his head, would remind him from beyond the grave that he had more important things to do than this namby pamby bullshit and why did you fill his head with so much rubbish Maria? And Tony would lock himself in the lab’s shower and scrub and scrub at his arms until all the black was gone and all that was left was red, raw skin.

The night before his eighteenth birthday Tony threw the biggest party the MIT Engineering department had ever seen. He drank so much he thought he’d drown. Drank until the world swirled around him and his nerves stopped thrumming and he could lie down in his bed and not a single thought went through his head.

He woke up to a pounding in his skull and a tingling, scratching sensation running along his right arm. He squinted over at the offending limb, saw a splash of black and had to scramble out of bed, legs tangled in the sheets and tripping him as he ran to puke his guts up.

When the heaving had stopped, still too fuzzy to work his limbs just yet, Tony rested his forehead against the porcelain and tried to slow the racing of his heart. The thrumming nerves were back. But he knew they wouldn’t stop until he knew.

Tony cracked one eye open and looked at his right arm properly for the first time that day.

Hey punk, I miss you.

The handwriting was sharp and jagged, yet there was a solidness to it that Tony found reassuring. But the message itself … Tony frowned in confusion.

It must be the hangover, he decided, and dragged himself across his tiny bathroom and into the shower. The icy water made him gasp for breath, but it cleared his head enough that he could work the taps. He let himself slump back against the shower wall, let the warm water rush over him until he started to feel a little more awake.

But when he opened his eyes and read the message again, it still made no sense. Tony squinted down at it, guts churning.

And then, almost as if on cue, his left arm tingled and scratched. With dawning horror, already knowing what he was going to see, Tony lifted his arm up to his face.

I miss you too, jerk.

This handwriting was cramped yet rounded, with little flourishes that made Tony think it must belong to an artistic type even before the little ink heart was scratched onto his skin next to the words.

A hysterical laugh bubbled up out of Tony’s throat without him even realising until the sound bounced off the tiles.

All these years he’d wondered, that little childish part of him that loved his mother’s stories, what his soulmate was going to be like. Even as his father made sure he knew there were more important things he had to accomplish, told him over and over that he’d be better off without a soulmate at all – to the point where Tony had wondered if maybe he’d be one of those people whose soulmate had died young - he’d secretly hoped and wondered if he’d be one of the lucky ones.

And now he knew.

His father had been right all along.

Tony had two soulmates, who already knew each other. He could already tell, just from these words – from the petnames and the little heart and the fact that they were writing to each other just because they missed each other (!) – that these two people were true soulmates.

And soulmates like that? Real, true love, happily ever after soulmates? They didn’t need some third wheel jerk showing up and poisoning them.

Tony knew, then, that he could do what his father could not. He could spare his soulmates from the misery of having him in their lives.

He had too much to do anyway. Howard might have dedicated his whole life to Stark Industries, but Tony was going to do even better than he had. He didn’t have to maintain any illusions about being a perfect husband and father, he could dispense with that bullshit and just focus on revolutionising the world with his inventions.

Tony sat in the shower and planned it all out. He mapped out the next three years at MIT, then the decades afterwards when he’d take over from Obie at SI. He thought about it all so carefully and precisely that the water had run cold by the time he rose and turned the shower off. And as he wrapped a towel around himself, skin feeling numb, Tony made one final plan.

He was never, ever going to tell his soulmates that he existed.

~

Tony was careful to never mark his skin in any way.

He did all of his work digitally, signed every document with a brilliant inkless pen that he invented, refused to be handed things. He was careful not to let himself get cut or scratched or have anything that could stain spill on him. Would have found a way to be careful not to even mark his hands, except that his soulmates left so many of their marks on his hands – scraped knuckles, cuts, scratches, paint and ink – that he allowed himself the luxury of using a soldering iron without gloves, and prayed they never noticed the occasional burn.

He never marked his own skin, but he was always alert for their marks. They wrote to each other constantly, and it didn’t take Tony long to realise it was because one of them – Bucky – was deployed. He wrote about his day, sharing jokes and stories in his jagged script down his right arm and sometimes even on his legs. Though usually he saved the legs for messages of a more … intimate nature. The first time Tony had gone to take a shower after a seventy-two hour bender in the lab and looked down at his thighs to find a fucking ode to all the ways in which Bucky wanted to take Steve apart with his hands and his tongue and his cock he’d had to sit down under the spray and stop himself from hyperventilating. He’d been so exhausted and freaked out that, even though he felt like the worst kind of voyeur, he’d wrapped a hand around his dick and jerked himself off imagining that Bucky was writing all those filthy things about him.

He’d felt disgusted with himself afterwards, promised he’d never do it again, but his resolve only lasted until the next day, when Steve wrote an equally long, filthy homage to Bucky’s body and everything Steve wanted to do to him.

Steve actually was an artist (to Tony’s surprise), attending art school. In place of written messages (though there were plenty of those too) he drew or painted elaborate pictures and patterns on his left arm. Tony quickly took to wearing long sleeves everywhere, even though it was summer (though it was the perfect excuse to stay in his lab and crank the air conditioning up as cold as it’d go), to hide the artwork. It gave him such a perverse thrill, at the end of a long day of coding (his new AI idea was really coming along), to peel off his clothes and trace the lines and colours swirling down his arm and sometimes on other parts of his body. He knew it was wrong, knew he was intruding, but surely the universe could give him this? It wasn’t hurting anyone. Neither Steve nor Bucky would ever know he was here, reading their words and drawings and marks on his own skin. So it was fine, right? Yeah, totally fine.

Rhodey came to visit him, six weeks after his birthday, all sharp lines and straight backed in his uniform.

“Rhodey! Honeybear! Light of my life!” Tony greeted, ignoring the traitorous part of his heart that twisted at the sight of him. It wasn’t Rhodey’s fault that soulmates were bullshit. Tony couldn’t blame him for doing what everyone did, and he’d spoken to Carol on the phone when Rhodey put him on speaker, and she was amazing so. It all worked out for the best. Really.

Rhodey rolled his eyes at him, but still came forward to give him a hug. “Tones. It’s good to see you. Sorry I couldn’t make it for your birthday, heard it was a hell of a party. There was still glitter in the trees outside building seven when I went past this morning!”

Tony swallowed around the lump in his throat. He managed a weak chuckle, “Yeah, you missed out on a crazy night.”

Rhodey pulled back, brow creased, and then noticed Tony’s oversized hoodie. “Wait. You didn’t tell me-“ he began, eyes widening.

Tony swivelled his chair around to face his desk again, the code he was working on swam in front of his eyes. “Nothing to tell.”

Rhodey let out a wounded sound and Tony had a second of thinking he’d bought it when Rhodey swivelled his chair back around so Tony had to face him and his raised eyebrow. “Then why are you wearing one of my old hoodies? In July?” he asked, eyes dropping down to the sleeves which went all the way to Tony’s knuckles.

“It’s cold in here,” Tony tried.

“You control the temperature in here,” Rhodey countered, face already moving from Dubious to Stop Bullshitting Me Tony.

Tony clenched his jaw, ready to tell Rhodey where he could shove his opinions. He didn’t need him anyway. Might as well push him the rest of the way out of Tony’s life, time was going to do that for him anyway, so why wait?

Except when he opened his mouth, anger on his tongue, what came out was: “They don’t need me.”

Rhodey blinked. Then his face did something complicated Tony’d never seen before. “They?” he asked gently, expression and tone completely at odds with what it had been a second ago. And Tony could deal with anger or annoyance, but that?

He choked on the sob in his throat. Then silently pushed up first one sleeve, then the other. He’d felt the tingling on and off for the past few hours, but now he glanced down and saw that it was more than a conversation. Bucky had attempted a drawing – a lopsided birthday cake and crooked hearts and wonky fireworks surrounded the Happy Birthday Steve! that he’d inked in so darkly Tony knew it’d still be there for a couple of days.

And on his other arm, accompanying a lot of sweet messages of heartfelt thanks, a delicate sketch of a fine boned man with fierce but happy eyes blowing a kiss. Tony’s heart squeezed painfully and he yanked the sleeves back down, covering Steve’s self portrait and Bucky’s birthday wishes, his tears stuck in his throat.

“Oh, Tony,” was all Rhodey said, before he was swept up into another hug. The action, so unexpected (how had he thought he could be fine without Rhodey?), dislodged some of the tears and the sobs and Tony cried silently but desperately into Rhodey’s perfectly pressed uniform shoulder.

~

Weeks turned into months, turned into years, and Tony moved on. No, really, he did.

It helped after Rhodey knew, having at least one person who knew the truth. Meant that he had someone he could call, when he’d drank too much and couldn’t lose himself in his coding or his projects. When his careful plans weren’t enough, Rhodey was there. He was always so gentle – under the exasperation and annoyance. When he’d sobered up the next day Tony was always, always, surprised that Rhodey had picked up the phone at all, that he hadn’t hung up on him.

One of these days he’d have enough, Tony thought to himself, so that each time he answered, and sat with him on the other end of the phone, and talked to him, Tony was surprised all over again.

Then Rhodey was deployed and Tony started to understand how Steve felt. Wished he was Rhodey’s soulmate solely so he wouldn’t have to spend each day wondering if this was the day he’d get a phone call.

It helped when he graduated a few months later, when he could finally take over at SI and get his plans in motion.

Obie seemed surprised, that he was so actively involved. Tony knew he’d had a bit of a reputation at MIT, what with the parties, but he’d thought Obie knew him better than that. He threw himself into the work with an all-encompassing efficiency that left no time for any other distractions, any other emotions. Usually changes in leadership like this made businesses shaky for a few months, or even years, with their stocks dropping accordingly, until the newcomer had established themselves. But Tony burst onto the scene with a single-minded ruthlessness that left their competition in the dust. The first six months after he became CEO was marked by so many new products and innovations launching to rave reviews that their stocks actually rose and even the board seemed staggered by Tony delivering on everything he was promising.

It wasn’t all smooth sailing of course, the media had a field day digging up all sorts of dirt on him – and his soulmate, or assumed lack thereof, was a favourite topic of the tabloids.

Tony grit his teeth every time JARVIS showed him those headlines. His hatred for the entire concept of soulmates grew. Couldn’t he just succeed at this without that shadow hanging over him?

He tried to brush it off, in interviews. Wouldn’t even answer questions about it, most of the time. Walked out of more than one interview if the topic was brought up after his explicit instructions that it was off limits. But that just meant that the vultures recognised a point of weakness and brought up the topic more than ever.

Tony stopped going to interviews. Stopped going out at all, if he could help it. What was the point of being a billionaire if you couldn’t hire people to take care of shit like that for you? He developed a reputation as a recluse, but it was a small price to pay for not having his personal business dragged into the spotlight every week.

The board, however, wasn’t super pleased about it. So Tony appeased them by hiring an absolutely brilliant personal assistant to act as the mediator between him and the outside world. Pepper Potts was as ruthless and efficient as he was, managing his life and his business with the same breathtaking level of competence that he applied to inventing marvels of modern technology.

But the moment that made him hire her was when, during the final round of interviews, after she’d already held up against his relentless barrage of questions and the sheer force of his unrestrained personality (because if she couldn’t handle that, she wouldn’t even last a day), he threw in a question that surprised even himself.

“Do you have a soulmate?” he demanded, leaning forward to stare her down across the desk.

She met his gaze head-on, unflinching. “Not that it’s any of your business, Mister Stark, but no, I do not.”

“And when that changes?” he asked. She was only young, after all, there could be an age difference.

Her expression hardened, for a microsecond, before it returned to the placid calm she’d maintained throughout the entire interview. “It won’t,” she stated simply.

He held her gaze, for another minute, then nodded. “Then you’re hired.”

He hadn’t realised, then, what he was getting himself into. No one had been this close to him since Rhodey. Even before the whole, voluntary isolation thing, he’d kept to himself in his lab at MIT, and lived alone for years. He would have chafed against it, no matter how necessary it might be, if Pepper had been less … well, brilliant, at everything she did. It didn’t even take a month before she was indispensable and he wondered how he’d lasted this long without her.

But the flip side of having her around was that, of course, it was only a matter of time before she found out the truth about his whole soulmate situation.

Even when you were a recluse who didn’t go outside more than the necessary amount to ensure the public knew SI’s CEO was still alive, he was still careful, after years of enforcing the habit, to keep his skin covered up.

But accidents happened.

It was over a year after he’d hired her, and it was actually slightly miraculous he’d managed to last this long before something like this happening. She’d come into the workshop, same as any other day, heels tapping out a brisk staccato against the concrete as she approached him, hand full of papers he needed to sign and a whole list of Very Important Topics that needed his attention right this second.

He’d sighed and reached for his probably cold mug of coffee, knowing he was going to need way more caffeine to deal with this, when his hand fumbled that simple act and he somehow managed to knock the entire mug of liquid down his front.

Cursing up a storm, Tony sprang up, not even paying attention to Pepper’s exclamation or the whir of cleaning bots that arrived to vacuum up the liquid pooling onto the floor. The coffee was cold, and Tony didn’t even think before he yanked the soaked hoodie and t-shirt both over his head, using a dry section of fabric at the back to wipe away the residual liquid from his skin.

He was still swearing, focused on the mess he’d made, when he heard Pepper’s sharp intake of breath behind him.

He froze, suddenly hyperaware of his exposed skin. Steve and Bucky’s conversation, which he’d read while eating some sort of meal hours ago, was still curved across both arms, though the bright cheery sunflower that graced the back of his left hand was new, he thought hysterically as he caught a glimpse of it while turning around to face her.

Pepper’s eyes were unreadable when he met her gaze. He didn’t know what she was thinking. Didn’t even know what he was thinking, if he was honest. It had been a long time since Rhodey had found out. Longer still since he’d been able to call him and talk about it. Tony was used to bearing this burden alone. And really, it wasn’t even a burden anymore, just a habit.

He didn’t know what to tell her.

“I have some papers I need you to sign,” Pepper said, recovering, and Tony was so grateful his chest ached.

He cleared his throat before he could speak. “Sure thing Pepperoni, let me just grab a clean shirt.”

He went and found a slightly oil stained long-sleeved t-shirt on the battered couch in the corner, taking a few minutes longer than necessary putting it on to give his heart time to stop racing.

He crossed back to Pepper and they did the incredibly boring, yet necessary, work that she’d come down here for. But when it was all done, when she’d usually be bustling off back out the door, she hesitated.

He braced himself, though his face remained impassive.

Pepper bit her lip, in an uncharacteristic gesture, before she spoke. “My soulmate …” she began, eyes on her files. “They didn’t want me. They don’t write. Ever.”

Tony blinked, startled. He’d expected a question not ... He swallowed heavily. “They?” he couldn’t resist asking, wondering if she was in the same boat as him.

Pepper looked up, “I never found out their gender. Or even their name,” she explained.

Tony let out his breath in a rush, it wasn’t the same, but it was damn well close enough. “I’m sorry,” he offered. “God, Pep, I’m so sorry. What an idiot, they have no idea what they’re missing out on.”

Pepper’s mouth twisted, but settled on a pained smile. “Neither does yours.” There was a question in her eyes, when she looked back up at him.

Tony’s laugh got choked up in his throat. “Yours, plural,” he explained, feeling safe to share this part of himself for the second time ever. “They found each other before I … came into the picture.” He looked down at the sunflower on his hand, yellow petals just peeking out from the edge of the sleeve. “They weren’t … they didn’t …”

“Oh, Tony,” Pepper whispered, so reminiscent of Rhodey that Tony’s heart clenched. “I’m so sorry,” she added, hesitating before taking a step closer to him and reaching out for his hand.

He grasped her delicate hand in his calloused one and squeezed gently. She squeezed back, looking at him with so many emotions rushing across her face he couldn’t keep up. She settled on affection, the corners of her lips turning up in that fond little smile he only ever saw directed at him. Her eyes crinkled in the corners, and though there was still sadness there – probably always would be – there was so much … so much love, that he couldn’t help it when his own face relaxed into a grin.

His heart thumped wildly, unused to being this close to anyone, this vulnerable. But he couldn’t stop the tiny blossom of hope that unfurled in his chest. He’d been alone for so long now, without even Rhodey to keep him company. And while he loved JARVIS and the bots, they couldn’t give him this closeness, this physicality, this, this human connection-

Tony leaned forward, eyes not leaving Pepper’s as he closed the distance between their lips. Her pupils widened, startled, but she let the kiss happen. Held it for a few seconds before pulling away, the corner of her mouth turning down.

“Tony … I don’t think … You’re my boss,” she tried to explain, more flustered than he’d ever seen her.

He winced. Pepper was the best thing that had ever happened to him – was the best thing he could hope for, really, given, well everything – the last thing he wanted to do was fuck this up and drive her away.

“Right, shit, of course, sorry Pep,” he said, scooting back on his chair to put more distance between them. “Totally professional from now on, I promise.”

She huffed out a laugh, “You don’t need to apologise, Tony. I understand … and honestly?” Her mouth curled up further, a flash of heat in her eyes. “It’s tempting, to … find comfort where we can. But if it ever got out to the press …”

Now it was Tony’s turn to laugh. His shoulders relaxed slightly, a pleasant feeling like butterflies swooping around in his stomach – he hadn’t felt this way since … well, since before Bucky and Steve. He’d had a reputation for more than just drinking and wild parties at MIT. But it’d been him and his hand (and the voyeuristic messages he read off his thighs) for years now.

“Hard for anything to get out to anybody if you don’t leave the house,” he pointed out, leaning back in his chair and tapping her leg gently with his ankle. “That was kind of the point – it buying into the whole ‘eccentric genius’ schtick was just a bonus.”

Pepper’s gaze turned open, then calculating, her eyes flickering back and forth as she considered what Tony was suggesting. The way her eyes raked over his figure as he lounged back in his chair was intoxicating, like something Tony hadn’t even let himself acknowledge he was craving.

“It couldn’t be public,” she began.

Tony waved a dismissive hand, “Nothing important in my life is, these days.”

“It’ll have to stop if it ever gets in the way of our work,” she insisted, expression turning serious.

He straightened up in his chair, expression mirroring hers, “Absolutely. Just say the word and it’s back to Mister Stark and Miss Potts.”

She considered him for a few more seconds, eyes darting down to his sleeves, hiding away the truth on his skin, and it was almost like he could hear what she was thinking, what she was about to say. But then, “I … Alright, what the hell, why not?”

He blinked, then a grin stole across his face and he rose to his feet in one smooth motion, so that they were face to face. “Yeah, why the hell not?” He kissed her again.

~

Their soulmates sat like a collective weight between them. Don’t get him wrong, Tony was enjoying every moment he spent with Pepper, every time she spent the night, even just the luxury of waking up with someone else in his bed. It wasn’t just the sex but the closeness, the presence, it filled an emptiness inside him.

But the blank expanse of Pepper’s skin was as much of a wall between them as the vivid, inked and painted story of Steve and Bucky’s love that covered every inch of Tony’s. Even on the rare occasions when his skin was unmarked, after showers or while they slept, the weight of their relationship sat on his skin. When it was blank he was always waiting for the tingles and scratches and feathery brush of their marks. He anticipated it. Craved it. Needed it.

It was all he was ever going to have, so he cherished it, in a way he’d promised himself years ago that he wouldn’t. Yet here he was … but it was all that it was. And it was enough. Really.

So as much as he and Pepper found joy together … once again, their soulmates ruined everything, tarnishing what could otherwise have been a once in a lifetime, happily ever after relationship. Tony still locked himself in the shower on the nights that he felt his thighs tingle with dozens of filthy, inked words. He still drank too much and traced the works of art Steve lovingly shared on his skin. Still felt the burn of shame and guilt for sharing in these intimacies without their knowledge, without their permission – but after so many years now it was dulled. A blunt knife, rather than the sharp one it had once been.

Pepper traced some of their words and art too, usually when she thought he was asleep. He never knew what she thought about it. But there were times he found her staring down at her own skin, fingertips tracing all that smooth whiteness, joining the dots on her freckles, with a look on her face that pushed his own heart into his throat. He’d pull her into his arms, and she’d bury her face in the space between his shoulder and his jaw and just breathe.

But it wasn’t enough. He knew it’d never be enough. For either of them.

~

It was Rhodey coming back, that ended it all. Though that made it sound like it was his fault, rather than him being the accidental catalyst for something that both Tony and Pepper had known, deep down, wouldn’t last much longer.

Another year had gone by, and Rhodey’s tour of duty finally ended. In a move worthy of Tony himself he simply showed up one day, duffle bag slung over one shoulder, and strolled into the workshop as if he came here all the time.

“Platypus?!” Tony gasped, dismissing his prototype holographic interface with a flick of his hands (and ignoring the way only half of the windows disappeared, it was a work in progress okay). “JARVIS, am I hallucinating? Did DUM-E put motor oil in my coffee again?”

“While I would not discount the possibility of your beverage being tainted, sir, it would appear that Major Rhodes is indeed present in your workshop.”

Rhodey looked over at one of the cameras and grinned. He’d talked to JARVIS in the lab at MIT, when he was only a baby AI, and over the phone in the years since, but this was the first time they’d officially ‘met’.

“Nice to hear you in person for a change JARVIS,” Rhodey said, and Tony grinned, this was why Rhodey was his favourite.

“And you as well, Major,” JARVIS replied smoothly, warm affection colouring his tone.

“Wait, Major?” Tony asked, finally catching up now that the surprise appearance of his favourite person (he tied with Pepper, Tony could never, and would never dare, rank them) had sunk in. “You didn’t tell me you’d been promoted!”

He reached out for Rhodey as he approached, pulling him into a bear hug that made some tight knot of worry finally ease out of his chest.

“I wanted to surprise you,” Rhodey explained, after he’d pulled back, grinning down at Tony.

The pair of them looked up as the sharp click of heels echoed down the stairs. Tony lit up, already giddy at the thought of his two favourite people meeting for the first time.

Pepper beamed at the sight of them as she approached, holding a thin manila folder clasped under her arm.

“Ah, Miss Potts,” Tony began, “meet-“

“Rhodey! It’s so good to see you,” Pepper said, passing right by Tony and leaning into Rhodey for a hug.

“Pepper. You’re looking well,” Rhodey replied.

Tony gaped. “Wait … wait, how do you two …?”

Rhodey snickered. “Oh man, the look on your face. I told you it’d be better to wait to tell him in person,” he said, apparently addressing his comment to Pepper, who was also smirking. He clapped Tony on the shoulders affectionately, “Man, Pepper called me months ago, when you mentioned to her that I was finally returning stateside.”

Pepper flicked open the folder and held it out to him with a flourish, offering an inkless pen. “Mister Stark, if you’ll just sign here, I can finally, officially approve Stark Industries new United States Military Liaison.”

Tony’s mouth dropped open. He glanced down at the folder, then back up at Pepper, then over at Rhodey, both of whom looked far, far too pleased with themselves. Tony couldn’t blame them. Their positions as his favourite people were well deserved.

They actually left the mansion, to celebrate, Pepper having booked some extremely exclusive, private but not private enough that they wouldn’t be snapped by paparazzi going in and then leaving, restaurant. They toasted Rhodey at least a half dozen times, Tony growing more and more ebullient as the news sunk in. His best friend was back, and he was working for (with, man, working with you, Rhodey kept insisting) him.

They were all pleasantly buzzed, as they made their way back to the mansion. Happy was grinning and giddy with their good spirits, and Pepper patted him affectionately on the shoulder and told him to take the next day off, her treat.

Tony would usually stagger off to the bedroom, to continue the festivities privately with Pepper now that they were finally out of the public eye and didn’t have to pretend they were only colleagues. But with Rhodey here they crashed on the couch, flicking on the television for background noise, and continued catching up. It didn’t take long for Pepper to curl up against his side and fall asleep. But it was only once she started snoring (and they were never to speak of it, under threat of death, Tony informed Rhodey) that Rhodey’s gaze turned sharper as he looked between them.

“Does she know? About your –“ he gestured at Tony’s arms, one after the other.

Tony sighed. “Of course. It’s what brought us together,” he explained, coming out the other end to sobriety but still buzzed enough for the words to flow off his tongue without too much thought.

Rhodey frowned, “Really? And she’s okay with that?”

Tony returned the frown, expression pained. “She’s … in a similar situation,” he admitted. Knowing it wasn’t really his place to share something about another person’s soulmate. But this was Rhodey. He wouldn’t tell.

Rhodey winced, “Oh man, that sucks.”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed, turning and placing a lopsided kiss on the top of her head.

“I guess it’s good then,” Rhodey said, relaxing back with an arm thrown across the back of the couch. “I mean, I can’t imagine it, not now that I know Carol. But at least you have each other.”

The corner of Tony’s mouth turned down. “I guess it doesn’t compare to the real thing, huh?”

Rhodey’s eyes widened. “Hold on, that’s not what I was saying.”

Tony sighed. “You didn’t have to Rhodey bear. I know how this goes. Everyone on this entire damn planet knows how this goes. What Pepper and I have is good – it’s great even. But it’s not … We’ll always know that it’s not really meant to be. Not really meant to last.”

“You don’t know that,” Rhodey insisted, “There are plenty of people who aren’t soulmates who live happy lives together.”

Tony wanted to get angry, at the words, the old arguments. He’d been telling himself these same lines for years – even more so once he’d started this thing with Pepper.

Instead, his face crumpled. “It’s not the same,” he whispered. That old thrumming in his nerves, it might have grown faint, and distant, but it had never really gone away. He looked up at Rhodey, who looked more heartbroken than Tony himself probably did. “I think we both knew that, going in.”

He undid the cufflinks on his sleeves, pushed them up to reveal the sparse conversation. So mundane. So ordinary. A shopping list was hastily scribbled on his left arm in Steve’s handwriting, under a sketch of a cat, whiskers spread into the crease of his elbow. A rude limerick was smudged on his right arm, with a crude winking face next to it, courtesy of Bucky.

Tony looked back up at Rhodey. “I miss them,” he said simply. “I’ve never even met them, but I miss them like I’m missing a piece of myself.” He wanted to bite the words back as soon as he said them. The old echoes were there, Howard’s voice, slurred with drink. Soulmates were bullshit.

But Rhodey just yanked him forward into a hug. “I know Tones. I know.”

~

Tony woke up to searing hot pain across his left side. He flailed from where he was slumped across the desk in his workshop, disoriented, and accidentally fell off the chair and onto the floor. Gasping for breath, it took a few minutes for the pain to subside and Tony to realise that it wasn’t his body that was hurting. With a strangled sound he yanked the long sleeved shirt over his head and stared down at his skin. The entire left side of his body was red, as if ink had been spilled over his left shoulder and down his arm to his hand, with splashes against the left side of his torso and hip.

The pain was fading into its usual tingle - soulmarks were marks, they didn’t actually share their bodies, or else any serious injuries or illnesses would incapacitate your soulmate. And anything fatal would kill both (or all three) of them.

But he knew that this meant something really bad had happened to one of his soulmates.

Tony went over to the side of his workshop and slowly opened the bottom drawer of the kitchenette. He stared at the pen, nestled amongst the other miscellaneous bits and bobs he kept in here. It was the only ink in the house. Some nights, mostly when he was drunk, Tony would take it out, imagine writing with it, marking his skin. Then he’d put it back, tell JARVIS to lock the drawer and pour himself another glass.

He took the pen out of the drawer. His breathing was still ragged. He looked down at himself. His right side was clear. He took off the lid, held the pen carefully in his left hand and let it hover over his right forearm.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat like that.

Then a familiar tingling rushed along his right arm, startling him for a second before he realised it wasn’t his writing that he saw but Steve’s – shaky and written slowly, carefully, to make sure it’d be legible even though it was written with his non-dominant hand.

someone please tell me what happened to Bucky

Oh god, it was Bucky who’d been injured. Probably in the line of duty.

Tony’s throat felt like it was going to close entirely. God, what had he been thinking? Steve didn’t need him interfering at a time like this! He needed to be there for Bucky.

He capped the pen, put it back in the drawer, then sat back against the kitchen cabinets. He waited, staring down at his arm, trying not to imagine Steve doing the same. The world around him faded away, narrowing down to this stretch of skin and his ragged breathing. He knew he couldn’t feel anything else from his soulmates – pain and other sensations when skin was marked was it – he knew he was imagining the tightness in Steve’s chest, the churning in his guts, the numbness, as they waited.

His heart ached, not with his own loneliness, but with Steve’s.

Steve who had been so supportive, so loving, even when Bucky went on his second, and now third tour. He wrote to him every single damn day. Drew pictures. Told him all the minute little details of his day. Didn’t care whether Bucky filled their skin with chatter because he was bored, or if he didn’t write more than good morning and good night for days at a time. His constancy and loyalty and stability made Tony ache in a fierce, sharp way that he couldn’t let himself feel at all, most days.

Tony didn’t actually know them at all, really. Only knew the story their skin told. But he knew enough to know that Steve would be staying strong, holding onto hope, even with his whole word crumbling down around him, red staining their skin like a brand.

And oh. Oh god, oh fuck, please don’t tell me I’m only here sharing his skin because Bucky dies, Tony thought to himself, heart seizing with the sudden thought. He’d never thought, never imagined, never even contemplated the possibility. He’d thought maybe he was meant to have died, in the car accident with his parents. But this? No, this was unthinkable. Tony couldn’t. He could never replace Bucky. The thought made him sick.

“Sir,” JARVIS said, bringing him back into his workshop, “You appear to be experiencing some distress. Would you like me to call Miss Potts?”

“No,” Tony rasped out, straight away. “No, don’t call her J. I’m okay. I … I’m fine.”

JARVIS remained silent for a few moments, then startled Tony again when he said. “Would you like me to … look into the United States military reports currently coming out of the Middle East, sir?”

Tony sucked in a surprised breath. “What? How did you-?” But this was JARVIS, he was the only other person, apart from Rhodey and Pepper, who knew about Steve and Bucky. He would have extrapolated from the available data. Tony cleared his throat. “No, definitely not. … at least, not yet. I don’t even know … No, we’ll wait J.”

“Very well, sir.”

Tony had been tempted, on more than one occasion, to put his considerable skills to use in tracking down Steve and Bucky. He knew enough about them, from what they wrote to each other, to stand a chance of finding their identities without too much trouble.

But he couldn’t – he wouldn’t – ever invade their privacy like that. It felt worse, somehow, than all the ways he already intruded on their lives. To know their surnames. The years they were born (he already knew their birthdays, locked himself in his lab with a Do Not Disturb lockdown and a bottle of scotch every year on the tenth of March and the fourth of July). To know who their families were. Where they went to school.

It would make them real in a way he couldn’t allow them to be. Bucky and Steve, off somewhere in the world, living their lives, was fine. Bucky and Steve as real people who had friends and jobs and a home address. Who he could go and see in person? That was dangerous.

But now …. right now, waiting, sitting with his back pressed against the hard wood of his kitchenette cabinets, ass going numb on the cold concrete floor, he wished he knew Bucky’s proper name so that he could make some phone calls and throw all of his considerable resources towards making sure he survived whatever hell he was currently going through.

Tony was still wrestling with his decision, second and third and fourth guessing himself, when his right arm tingled and he stopped breathing for a moment. His breath left him again in a whoosh at the unfamiliar handwriting scratching its message onto their skin.

Sgt Barnes is alive but severely injured, the writing said, in a neat script that looked as if it was being written hastily. Will keep you informed, it added. And Tony knew they meant Steve, of course he did, but the relief crashed into him all the same.

He let himself breathe for a few minutes, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes and trying to calm his rapidly beating heart. Then he stumbled to his feet, cursing the pins and needles in his legs, and staggered over to the couch.

“JARVIS,” he finally said, swallowing heavily against the lump that had lodged itself in his throat. “Give me everything you can find in the military database on a Sergeant Barnes, born March 10, nickname Bucky.”

“Right away, sir,” JARVIS replied, tone approving in a way that made Tony simultaneously feel proud and sick.

“No pictures!” Tony added hastily, hands clenching into the worn, soft fabric of the couch. “If I see a single picture of his face, or Steve’s, I’m donating you to the IRS. You can assist with tax inquiries for the rest of your life,” he threatened.

“I’m sure I would find the work very fulfilling,” JARVIS sassed back.

“I mean it JARVIS!” Tony already felt the guilt creeping up his throat just from this, he couldn’t handle anything more.

“Understood, sir.”

Mission reports and other miscellaneous memos and notices featuring Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes filled the holographic screens in front of Tony. He pushed the guilt down as far as it would go, and began to read, already knowing that he was going to do whatever it took to help Bucky recover. Steve needed to have him back in one piece.

~

An indeterminate number of hours had passed when Tony felt the tell-tale scratching on his right arm again. He held it up closer to his face to read, already feeling his chest tighten in anticipation. But nothing could have prepared him for what he read.

I’m sorry Mr Rogers, his arm cannot be saved. Damage too extensive.

And then.

Please prepare yourself to experience mild discomfort.

Oh god. Tony gripped the edge of the bench. His arm. Bucky was going to lose him arm. What the fuck happened to bringing him back in one piece? He felt sick, he felt sick, he felt sick.

Tony didn’t even know what sound made its way out of his mouth when he felt another tingle on his arm, and looked down to see Steve’s slightly wonky handwriting appearing.

I understand. Please tell him I love him.

Tony ran for the bathroom, only just making it before his stomach emptied its contents. It was mostly bile, burning in the back of his throat.

Tony staggered over to the sink, gripping its cold porcelain edge and staring at his own reflection, wild eyed, heartbroken, in the mirror. He turned on the tap, washing the acid out of his mouth, splashing it against his face, over and over, until it felt numb again.

He didn’t even shiver as he made his way back to his workbench, slowly. The cold soothed him, after so many years of being hidden away beneath warm layers. It was a balm, as the skin around his left shoulder began to sting and burn. He watched as the red deepened, darkened, in a neat curve (cutting) across his shoulder. Watched as the colour began to drain away from his upper arm … elbow … forearm … wrist … hand … fingers. Watched as the skin on his left arm returned to unblemished perfection. As if nothing had happened. As if nothing was there at all.

~

Tony created the Stark Industries Prosthetics Division the next day.

He had a half dozen revolutionary new prosthetics designed by the end of the week.

An entire catalogue of artificial limbs available at affordable prices within a month.

By the time Bucky was shipped home, every veteran in the entire United States was entitled to receive as many artificial replacements for body parts lost while serving as they needed. Free of charge. Paid for by Stark Industries new Looking After Our Veterans Program (I’m an engineer not a salesperson, Pepper, pay the marketing people to come up with a better name!).

And if Bucky happened to receive the most advanced, complex prosthetic arm available? It was because it was a prototype, and he just happened to meet the requirements the research division needed. Totally lucky. What are the chances?

~

Bucky was left handed.

Tony knew that logically of course, but it didn’t really mean anything before.

During the weeks he was recovering from the surgery, before he was stable enough to be shipped home, Steve filled his right arm with shaky, messy handwriting. So many messages of love that Tony’s throat burned with it (he’d read them all, swallowing scalding coffee standing over the sink, then rinse his mug and get back to work). At first it was just Steve. And then Bucky must have been moved to a ward, because the spaces between Steve’s words were filled with all sorts of different handwriting reading Bucky says this and Bucky wants you to know that.

Even if Bucky wanted to write, he couldn’t do what Steve had done and swapped hands – what would he write on?

Tony couldn’t fix that, couldn’t give him a new arm that had skin that was shared with his soulmate(s) (though he was liaising with a brilliant scientist named Helen Cho, who was making leaps and bounds in her research into soulmarks and the shared skin phenomenon). But he could at least give him an arm to write with again.

But once he was home safe – Tony had given JARVIS painstakingly careful instructions about what information about Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers he was allowed to keep track of, and what he was then allowed to share with Tony – neither Steve nor Bucky had reason to write anymore.

Bucky had been home on leave before, of course, a handful of times over the years. But on those occasions the messages just became infrequent for a few weeks, and then went back to normal. This wasn’t like that.

It took months for what was left of Bucky’s shoulder to heal enough to be able to be fitted with the prosthetic. Achingly silent months where Tony tried to lose himself in the work but somehow … couldn’t, in the way that he usually did. And even then, once JARVIS had confirmed that Bucky had accepted the arm, that he was showing up for weekly progress reports and adjustments (with a team Tony had trained personally, without giving any indication that this was more than an experiment to him).

Still his skin remained blank.

He understood Pepper better now. Traced his clear skin with shaking fingertips that only stilled when they were clasped around a crystal tumbler, amber liquid sloshing within.

“How do you do it?” he asked her, when she came in to the lab at ten am to find him halfway through a bottle. He’d say it was too early for it but he hadn’t slept, so it didn’t count.

He was wearing a tank top, goosebumps raised on his flesh. He’d stopped bothering with the long sleeves weeks ago, but hadn’t changed the temperature settings in his workshop. Pepper’s eyes traced along the unblemished expanse of his skin and then met his. He’d expected them to be brimming with tears, after weeks of seeing the heartbreak he couldn’t let himself feel reflected in her eyes.

Instead they were sharp and flinty.

“They might have thrown away the chance to have a life with me, but like hell I’m going to make the same mistake,” she said, voice as sharp as her gaze. “I found myself a project, just like you – and when that finished, I found another one, and another, and I’ll keep on finding more.”

He’d thought it would hurt, hearing her sharing the sort of advice Howard might have given him. But it was different. Pepper didn’t want him to do it for the good of the company, or for appearances, or whatever the fuck else his poor excuse for a father had used to justify his harshness. Pepper wanted him to do this for himself.

He looked down at the liquid still in the glass, wavering, caught at a crossroads where neither option was a good one.

“… And I do it for them,” Pepper admitted, so softly that Tony had to look up again, startled, not sure he hadn’t imagined it. The steel wasn’t gone from her gaze, not entirely, but it was gone enough that the soft underbelly it had been protecting was exposed. “I do it so that … so that they’d be proud of me.”

Tony let out a shuddering breath, and put down the glass.

“I’m shutting down the weapons manufacturing,” he announced, deciding in that very moment, knowing as he said it that it was absolutely the right thing for him to do.

“What?” Pepper gasped. Actually taking a step back in shock as Tony rose, as if expecting him to do something else equally as insane as stopping the fundamental business of his own company.

“Clean energy. That’s the future,” he went on, “Even better prosthetics. Maybe even household robotics, I think I’ve worked out the kinks with DUM-E and U and Butterfingers. Household AI will still be another decade away before it’s commercially viable, I haven’t even got JARVIS working in the whole house yet, but that’s okay, long term goal.”

“Tony, what-“ He’d finally rendered Pepper speechless, hoped JARVIS was recording it for posterity. “That’s- You can’t-“

“It’s my company, of course I can.” Now it was Tony’s tone that was sharp. Certain. “I’ve single-handedly advanced artificial limb technology by decades in less than three months! I feel like I’ve earned the benefit of the doubt here. If the board can’t trust me by now then we should fire the lot of them.”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Pepper reminded him, seemingly automatically, her gaze startled and confused as she stared at him like a puzzle she’d thought she’d found the solution to, only to find the last piece didn’t fit where she’d expected.

“Well you’ll just have to help me convince them, then,” Tony insisted. “I can’t- we can’t keep going like this. Who did I think I was kidding? I should have known better than to continue something Howard created. We wouldn’t even need a prosthetics division if we hadn’t helped fund all this goddamn war.”

At this Pepper finally stopped looking so shocked. Her calculating expression was the last thing Tony wanted to see on her face. “Oh Tony-“

“No. Don’t you twist this around like that. This was your idea. You said to start a new project – well here I am! And it’s going to be the most worthwhile project I’ve done in my whole damn life! You want me to make them proud? Well this is it! You want to know why Bucky was a soldier? Why he was over there risking his goddamn life and losing a goddamn limb for us? It wasn’t because he wanted to go to war, wanted to fight a worthwhile cause, it was to pay for his and Steve’s fucking college loans! We’re sending goddamn children over there who just want to go to school and we are complicit in that! I am complicit in that. I should be funding our fucking broken education system, not making more money than god at the cost of people’s lives!”

By the time he was done Tony’s chest was heaving and his fists were clenched, and Pepper was well and truly gaping at him. Looking at him like this was the first time she was seeing him.

“I … thought you didn’t know anything about them,” was finally what she said. It wasn’t accusing.

Tony rubbed at the back of his neck, deflating. “I don’t know anything important. I … may have extrapolated some things based on the available information,” he admitted. “But it’s the right thing to do. Goddamnit Pepper, for the first time in my life I finally feel like I know what the right thing is. So are you going to help me do it, or not?”

Pepper swallowed, her own fists clenching briefly, then she met his gaze and nodded. “Okay, Tony. Let’s shut down the weapons division.”

~

And then Tony woke up in a cave in Afghanistan.

Okay, wait, back up, there were a few things that happened between the two events.

It turns out that, as usual, Pepper was right. It wasn’t as simple as ‘shutting it down’, not even when you were the majority shareholder. Most of the board tried to have him declared unfit and ousted out of the position – Obie told him he’d sort things out, talk them over, but that Tony should lay low for a while, give him time to do damage control.

Except Obie’s idea of laying low was a whirlwind tour of the Middle East so that he would be seen personally installing his new prosthetics for Afghani and Iraqi civilians who had been injured by terrorist attacks, as part of his new ‘peacekeeper’ image.

Rhodey had gone along with him, which Tony would usually be thrilled about, but while Pepper had understood his change of heart, Rhodey very much did not, no matter how many flights and awkward Humvee drives they sat through together with Tony trying to get him to at least understand his point of view, if not agree with it.

After weeks of this, Tony just wanted to go home. It didn’t help that his marks had finally begun to return – mostly brief notes from Steve promising Bucky he’d be home soon, or delicate little sketches along his ribs or around his ankles.

On the day their convoy was attacked Tony was completely distracted. For the first time since having his prosthetic installed, Bucky had written something on his own skin. Steve must have been out, had written another Be home soon! message on the inside of his right forearm. But moments later a line went through the words, and unfamiliar swooping handwriting wrote beneath it: I’m taking your husband out to dinner, he needs a break. Sam.

Then, a few minutes later, words began to appear in Bucky’s handwriting, making Tony’s heart pound with excitement. Hearing from JARVIS that the arm was functioning within expected parameters was one thing, seeing proof that he really was able to use the arm to function as close to normally as possible? Tony was giddy. To anyone else, Bucky’s handwriting would have looked identical to how it had been before the prosthetic. To Tony, who had studied every letter of every word ever written on his skin by Bucky, he could see the way that the lines were pressed a little more firmly than before, the way the loops of round letters curved a bit wider.

Good! Bucky wrote. tell him to have fun birdbrain

Tony had snorted out a laugh, delighted, ignoring the pounding on the bathroom door as Rhodey insisted it was time to get into yet another Humvee for yet another drive across the desert.

And then everything had gotten blown to hell. Literally.

~

The next few hours (days?) were a blur of pain and blood and sand, and when Tony woke up in that cave, a car battery wired to the electromagnet stuck in his centre of his chest, his first thought was panic. Not for himself and his situation (though that would be his second thought) but for the fact that this goddamn metal cavity carved into his chest would have left a goddamn mark.

After he’d gotten an explanation out of Yinsen, about what had been done to him, about the shrapnel ready to pierce his heart if this magnet ever lost power for more than a few minutes, about what the Ten Rings expected from him now that they’d captured him, Tony asked for a pen.

His hands didn’t shake, like every other time he’d held one in the seven years since his soulmarks first appeared. He had the briefest moment of hesitation before he carefully placed ink to skin and wrote –

Bucky. Steve. I’m sorry you had to find out this way.

I’m sorry for everything.

I’m so so so sorry.

I love you both.

Tony

He stared at the words on his right arm, couldn’t even imagine them showing up on Steve and Bucky’s skin. Couldn’t imagine how they were going to react. Didn’t expect more than confusion and anger. But … he couldn’t die without them even knowing he existed. It was selfish and stupid and so so pathetic. But surely he was at least owed this much, after keeping quiet for so many years.

He pulled the sleeve back down when the door creaked open and Yinsen urged him to stand, translated the demands of the terrorist leader.

Tony was lead outside. Showed the crates full of his weapons the terrorist cell had amassed. Had this been the group that attacked Bucky’s convoy, months ago? Was Tony responsible for him losing his arm? Almost losing his life?

Tony had thought he was rectifying his mistakes, making the necessary changes. But it had been too little too late. How much blood did he have on his hands?

He remembered the night Bucky had lost his arm, the red that spread down to his fingertips like wine, the way his skin was stained.

Tony faced the leader of the Ten Rings and saw the man who tried to kill one of his soulmates.

“No.” Tony said. “I won’t build you a single fucking thing.”

~

Tony drowned a hundred times, that night. Clutching the car battery to his chest. Gasping not for breath but for Steve and Bucky. His thoughts were jagged, broken things. Flickering. Grey. Mirror shards and light and dark.

He was well acquainted with numbness. With disconnection. Pushed himself so far in his daily life that his limits didn’t even exist anymore. Or so he had thought. Pushed to the edge, over and over, gasping, screaming, (not) breathing (not) breathing (not) breathing, Tony found his limits again. Found the brink and wished he could just … finally … go over it. Just end it.

He was so close, to giving in, giving up, breaking down, that he didn’t even notice it at first. His own message had been washed away, by the water, bleeding black until his skin was slate clean again.

But when they gave him a break to reattach the wires to the battery for the umpteenth time, Tony crying out without even hearing himself, even feeling it, he caught a glimpse of his right arm. Of two sets of familiar handwriting.

We love you Tony. (Steve’s)

Don’t give up, don’t die, please. (Bucky’s)

Stay alive for us. (Steve’s)

I’ve finally cracked, Tony thought to himself, laughing hysterically and not even realising until the man holding him slapped him across the face to make him stop.

He was pushed under again.

An indeterminate amount of time later, his vision returning from the grey, the ringing in his ears fading, and Tony finally gasped out, throat scraped raw and tasting of iron – “Okay! Yes, I’ll do it! Okay! Okay!”

~

From the look on Yinsen’s face, Tony figured that normal people probably didn’t come back from being … from what he’d just been through with a purposeful stride, ready with a list of materials they needed and directing those same men who’d just … who’d done what they’d done to rearrange the space and move that there and no no, the lights need to point here or else how else am I going to see what I’m doing?

To his credit, Yinsen went with it, translating and clarifying and helping as Tony wrote a list of what he’d need if he was going to do this.

This being building a miniaturised arc reactor, and a weapon – no, a suit of armour – powerful enough to get them both the hell out of here. Naturally.

Tony wasn’t sure how many hours passed, the cave echoing with noise and voices and the scrape of metal against stone. But it eventually quietened down, the rest of the men leaving, so that it was just Tony and Yinsen left standing in his new workshop. He went to go and sit down, draw some plans up maybe (and he’d need to be careful, oh so careful, in how he went about it) but his hands were shaking now. Or maybe this was just the first time since … just the first time he’d noticed.

“Tony. You should rest,” Yinsen said, voice so gentle, in a way that reminded him of Rhodey, and Pepper, which made his heart ache.

“Yeah,” Tony agreed, still staring down at his shaking hands.

Yinsen moved to stand behind him, maybe wanting to help him up, but Tony flinched, stool rattling against the floor as he stood. Yinsen took a step back, hands raised.

“Sorry.”

Yinsen shook his head, “Get some rest, my friend.”

“Right,” Tony agreed, and moved to his cot on the floor. He pulled the world’s scratchiest blanket over himself, more out of habit than to fight off any chill. Tony couldn’t feel a thing.

He tried to breathe, ignoring the trembling of his limbs. Then he looked down at his right forearm.

The words were still there.

Tony’s breath was caught in his throat. He flung the blanket off himself.

“Tony,” Yinsen began, rising from his own cot.

“Just need – pen,” Tony gasped out, grabbing one from the grimy surface of the bench and then staggering back to crash down on the cot again.

His hands were still shaking, but not from nerves, as he uncapped the pen and wrote – slowly, carefully, the lines still jittery.

I’m still alive

Something eased in his chest, as he looked down at his own writing on his skin. Eased enough that the exhaustion could finally take him.

~

Tony woke and called out to JARVIS for the time before he remembered. He dropped an arm over his face and groaned, heart already jackhammering away because he was in a goddamn cave in Afghanistan and was about to bluff an entire cell of angry terrorists – and continue bluffing them for what would probably end up being months. And instead of anything fucking useful coming to mind, his brain was just playing a clip of Howard saying “Stark men are made of iron” on repeat.

For the first time in his life he didn’t try to stop it. Just gently shuffled it to the background of his thoughts, let it become a mantra, a rhythm to work to.

Tony sat up, and looked down at his arm. He was almost more shocked to see fresh words there, alongside the ones that had already been there, than he was to have woken up in this cave.

Thank God, Steve had written under his words from last night (or whatever time it was, he had no concept of it in here). Tony swallowed heavily. He’d written the same thing when a nurse had written that Bucky was awake, after his surgery.

Then, under that – Tony’s breath caught – Bucky had written: Are you Tony Stark? and then Tell us where you are, we can send help!

Did- did they know? Had they known who he was all along? But no, how could they? And they wouldn’t be asking him if they already knew. He let his breath rush out of him in a whoosh. He was probably all over the news by now, what with the little home movie the terrorists had made of him. Pepper would be frantic.

He wrote, in the spaces next to the questions: Yes. and A cave, no idea where.

Then, after a moment’s hesitation, he scrawled down Pepper’s personal cell phone number. Tell Pepper I’m alive.

Tony looked up to find Yinsen looking over at him. He knew they weren’t going to be rescued – Rhodey would already be looking for him, and there was no useful information he could give to help them find him. It was up to him. “Let’s get to work,” he said, already rising.

~

Time became meaningless in the cave. He was fed with semi-regularity, was even allowed to go out to the mouth of the cave on the odd occasion, but preferred to spend every second working on his escape. He knew he could be using this opportunity, what were probably his last days alive, to write to Bucky and Steve. Finally tell them how much they mean to him, because goddamn it all, he’d spent years denying it, knowing they were better off without him. But he wasn’t better off without them. They were his soulmates. He loved them.

Loved Bucky’s shitty jokes and Steve’s mother henning, Bucky’s filthy prose scrawled on his thighs in messy ink and Steve’s beautiful works of art stretched across the expanses of their skin.

So fuck it all, Tony wanted to live. Wanted to finally, finally, finally see them. Wanted faces to go with names. Voices to go with words.

He could have assumed that they weren’t writing any more to him because they were angry, or didn’t want to know him. But even before the next time they wrote he chose to assume that they didn’t want to write too much, lest they upset his captors. Or that no topic of conversation seemed appropriate, when you were talking to a man who’d been kidnapped by terrorists.

Still, something loosened in chest (Tony was ignoring the way it was slowly unravelling, with each word, each mark, he couldn’t afford to fall apart, not until he was out of here) when his arm tingled later on that day, and he saw Pepper’s familiar neat cursive appearing.

Tony. So glad you’re alive. Rhodey leading search. S and B safe with me, at mansion.

Tony had to blink back tears, the first since he’d been brought here. There wasn’t time for that now. Stark men are made of iron. He grabbed the pen he’d been using to sketch a section of armour and dashed out a quick: Thanks. Love you Pep. Take care of them for me.

He looked down at the messages every time he began to waver, let them spurn him on.

~

Every day, without fail, he’d feel the tell tale scratch of pen on skin and look down to find Steve and Bucky re-writing their first words to him, not letting the message fade from their skin.

We love you Tony.

Don’t give up.

Stay alive for us.

~

When it was finally time to go, with the arc reactor in his chest, and the armour hidden away from the cameras, and the terrorists getting more and more agitated, Tony wrote one last message to Steve and Bucky.

Time to bust out of this shithole. If I don’t survive this … I hope you can still be proud of me.

Then Yinsen helped him suit up. Each layer covering Tony, section by section, until his skin was completely hidden. Stark men are made of iron, Tony thought to himself, and had to stifle the hysterical laughter that wanted to bubble up out of him, sticking in his throat.

Just before the suit finished powering up, with the sound of bullets being drowned out by the pounding of Tony’s heart and the ragged echoing gasps of his breath in the suit’s helmet, Tony felt the answering tingle along his arm. He didn’t want to look at it anyway, needed to imagine the answer he wanted to hear, if he was going to do this.

Tony clenched his fists, raised his arms up, and began to walk.

~

Rhodey found him in the desert.

He let his knees fall, stretched his arm up with the peace sign extended, words obscured against his burnt skin. He let Rhodey pull him up into the chopper, laid out on a stretcher, muscles giving up now that he was finally free. Finally safe. His heart hadn’t stopped jackrabbiting away. After so many weeks, he didn’t know if it remembered how to beat to a rhythm that wasn’t panic.

Tony pressed the side of his head into Rhodey, when he sat beside him. He would have objected to the stretcher, pretended he was fine, couldn’t stand being laid out like this, but he kept slipping in and out of consciousness.

“I’ve got you man,” Rhodey said, whenever he woke, jolting back into consciousness, expecting the cave, expecting Yinsen. “I’ve got you.”

~

Tony could tell, just by looking at them, who was who. Even without seeing the tips of metal fingers peeking out from Bucky’s sleeve, even without recognising the sharp angles of Steve’s face from his inked self-portraits (don’t want you to forget my face), Tony knew them.

They were holding hands, when Rhodey pushed Tony down the ramp in the wheelchair. Standing next to Pepper and holding hands. Bucky’s frown smoothed when he saw him, but not all the way. Steve looked like he might cry, or maybe like he was going to tell Tony off. He might know them, on some deep layer of his soul that he had insisted didn’t exist for so long, but he hasn’t studied their faces. Their expressions. Can’t read them like he’s been reading their words.

Doesn’t know what they’re thinking. What they’re going to say. What they’re supposed to do now.

“So, uh, hi,” Tony said. Blinked at them dumbly.

“Mister Stark,” Bucky replied, voice raspy with a distinctive note of Brooklyn. Tony couldn’t help the flinch, though it was only small. Everything they’d written and now it was ‘Mr Stark’? He’d fucked this all up so badly.

But Steve let out a wounded sound, elbowed Bucky in the side and let go of his hand to reach out for Tony – stopping just shy of touching him. “Tony,” he said, accent also by way of Brooklyn. His eyes were very, very blue as he stared down at Tony.

Bucky grumbled beside him, “We can’t assume,” he muttered, elbowing Steve right back.

Steve ignored him, kept staring at Tony, who felt like he’d been entranced, couldn’t seem to look away. “We’re so glad you’re alive,” Steve said, without a trace of dishonesty.

Tony blinked. Swallowed heavily. His head was still swimming with exhaustion. None of this felt real, and this part least of all. “Yeah … me too.”

The three of them stared at each other in silence for another minute before Pepper made an exasperated sound and the spell was broken. Tony looked over at her, felt a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, though it didn’t extend very far beyond that.

“As much fun as it is watching the three of you stare at each other,” she began, tone sarcastic and sharp and so wonderful to hear again after so long. “We’re due at the hospital.”

She ushered them into the limo, gesturing at Steve and Bucky to go in ahead of them, while she and Rhodey helped him into his seat.

“Where to boss?” Happy asked, once they were all seated.

“Take me home, Happy,” Tony replied. God he just wanted to be in his workshop right now. Wanted to pretend, just for a little while, that this had all been a bad dream.

But Steve made another sound, this one more outraged. “You need to be seen by a doctor!” he insisted.

Tony blinked at him, startled by the fierce, determined expression he found staring back at him.

“Take us to the hospital, Happy,” Bucky said, before turning to face Tony and raising an eyebrow in challenge.

Tony nodded, meek, still not convinced any of this was really happening.

Any minute now, he’d wake up and be staring at the oppressive grey of the cave ceiling.

The ride was silent, though Tony wasn’t really taking much of it in. Pepper was speaking quietly to Rhodey, and Steve to Bucky, but none of it was filtering in to Tony’s consciousness.

He was going to wake up, same as every morning, to Yinsen offering him food on a dented metal plate.

Tony blinked away the vision of Yinsen’s face, still in death. They’d arrived.

He gripped Rhodey’s arm, as his best friend helped him into another wheelchair. “Remember, no one looks at my chest,” he whispered fiercely.

He’d hit an army doctor in the face, back in Afghanistan, still half delirious but knowing the arc reactor had to be protected at all costs. They’d taken care of all his other injuries, cleaned his burns and the worst of the grime off him, but Rhodey had been the only one he trusted to get anywhere near it. He’d cleaned around it, carefully, mouth set in a grim line as Tony had whispered out the truth of what the device was doing. How it was keeping him alive.

He blinked back into the here and now when Rhodey snorted. “Don’t worry, I don’t want anyone else getting an elbow to the nose anymore than you do.”

With Rhodey standing by his side the whole time, arguing with the doctors on his behalf, Tony let himself drift. People buzzed around him. Sometimes he looked up to Rhodey’s hand pressing warm on his shoulder. Other times it was Pepper’s face, pinched with concern.

His eyes skittered away from Steve and Bucky, sitting in the moderately comfortable but still hell on your back chairs at the foot of his bed. He couldn’t take them in. Wasn’t convinced that they were real. Were really here. It was too much.

He’d expected questions. Accusations. But they just … sat, by his bed, keeping him company, while the nurses and doctors performed their tests (avoiding his chest with curious glances) and made approving noises as they unravelled the bandages from skin that was mostly healed and monitored him for a twenty-four hour period that passed in the blink of an eye, when he was declared fit enough to go home.

He expected them to leave, then, once they knew he was okay. Even Rhodey had apologetically gone to deliver his report on what had happened. But again (again) he was surprised, when they helped him into a wheelchair, held his arm as he wobbled into the car, followed him in and told Happy to take them home.

Why, he wanted to ask. But the question stuck in his throat. He was feeling more like himself again, as much as he ever could, he thought, but that meant a return to awareness that these two men beside him didn’t need him poisoning their souls. Bad enough he’d given them a permanent mark on their chest, from where the arc reactor sat.

But he couldn’t ask them why they were still here. Knew, now that he’d finally met them, heard their voices, and seen their faces, he couldn’t bear to have them leave. Which they would, as soon as he had a proper conversation with them. So. Silence it was.

Pepper met them at the front door. Her face looked slightly less pinched, once she saw him walking in under his own power. He made to move towards his workshop, needing to feel like he was really, truly home, but she gently steered him toward the living room.

“Tony, we need to talk,” she said, giving Steve and Bucky, who’d been hovering behind him, a significant look over his shoulder. When he turned to see what their reaction was, it was to find them making their way down the corridor.

“What-“ he began, but Pepper shushed him. Pushed him around gently until they were sitting beside each other on the couch.

“I promise, this won’t take long. But we need to talk about some of the things that happened while you were gone.”

Tony’s gut churned. “I’m sorry,” he blurted out.

“What? What for?”

“For giving them your number. It wasn’t fair, on any of you, I know. So I’m sorry-“

Pepper’s hand grasping his arm startled him so badly that she flinched back. “Sorry, Tony. I didn’t mean to – I just had to stop you there. That’s not what this is about. Not at all. I’m glad you gave Steve and James my number. It was such a relief, knowing you were still alive out there. And meeting them was … They’re nothing like I expected.” He gaped at her, then leaned back when she turned her fiercest glare on him, out of the blue. “You told me that they didn’t want you!” she accused, “But the first thing they told me, once I knew who they were and how they had my number, was that they didn’t even know that you were their soulmate!”

Tony turned away from her, looking out over his living room, which felt like more of a foreign landscape than the fucking cave had. “You wouldn’t understand, Pep,” he murmured.

“You’re right, I don’t,” Pepper replied, still angry. “Because if I had the chance to know my soulmate I never would have thrown that away!” Then, more softly, “They love you, Tony.”

Tony’s head whipped back to her, eyes desperately searching hers for the truth of what she was saying. “You don’t know that – they don’t even know me!”

Pepper’s gaze was as steely and sharp as the day she’d found out about his soulmarks. “You’re right, they don’t – because you never gave them the chance.” He opened his mouth but she barrelled on. “But I’ve had the chance to get to know them, these past two months, and they were devastated to find out you were their soulmate only because you’d been kidnapped and tortured!”

Tony shrunk back into himself, mind reeling. He wanted to reject everything he was hearing. But Pepper had no reason to lie to him. And it was the only way the data he’d observed made sense. Why else would they still be here, now? Why else would they have written to him every day?

Tony’s throat swelled, choking on the truth, and for a second he couldn’t breathe. Then he let out a sob.

Pepper’s face crumpled. “Oh Tony.” And that did it – Tony imploded, body curling up, sobs bubbling up out of his chest, his throat, his heart, tears finally, finally flowing free.

When he came back to himself, feeling raw and shaky but freer than he had in years (maybe ever), Pepper’s arms were around him and his head was on her shoulder. He lifted it up, slowly, scrubbing at the wetness on his face with the back of his sleeve.

“Better?” Pepper asked, face so tender that Tony sent out a fresh curse to the soulmate who had rejected such an amazing woman.

“Yeah,” Tony croaked out. “Thanks, Pep.”

She tightened the arm she had around his shoulder, squeezing gently, before she slowly released him and sat back.

“That … wasn’t what I wanted to talk to you about,” she said, her gaze unreadable. “I’m not sure you’re ready to hear this, but I don’t want you finding out some other way.”

Tony swallowed, not liking the sound of that, but he tried to meet her gaze steadily.

Pepper took a deep breath, visibly collecting herself. “Your kidnapping by the Ten Rings … wasn’t a coincidence, or bad luck,” she began.

Tony’s stomach dropped. “What,” he breathed.

Pepper’s jaw clenched, she looked away before meeting his gaze head on. “It was planned, and ordered, by Obadiah Stane.”

There was a ringing in Tony’s ears that reminded him of every single time he’d come back to consciousness after being drowned. He didn’t realise his vision had blurred until it snapped back into focus on Pepper’s grave face.

Tony swallowed, trying to find the words. “ … You’re … you’re …”

“I’m sure,” Pepper responded, always knowing what he was trying to say. “He was arrested three weeks ago.”

Tony startled at that. “Arrested? What- how did you-?”

“He tried to take over the company, after you’d been missing for only two weeks,” Pepper explained, calm in the way she only was when she was keeping her temper in check. “So I started digging. But I had help.” At this, she faltered, a crooked smile quirking her lips for a moment. “From an FBI agent who already had a whole file on Stane.” Her gaze hardened again, “Apparently they’d been investigating him for the past year, but they didn’t have enough evidence. I got it for them.”

Pepper lifted her chin, fierce pride making her glow in the way that had attracted Tony to her in the first place. He pushed his feelings about Obie betraying him, off to the side, so that he could beam at her, his own heart swelling with pride.

“Boy am I glad you’re on my side,” he said, with some of his old charm, smirk back if only for a moment. Her eyes glittered with amusement.

Then Tony’s smirk widened. “So, tell me about this FBI agent.”

Pepper’s eyes widened, apparently startled that he’d picked up on her momentary lapse. She hesitated, then rolled her eyes at him, unable to hide the grin that stole across her face. “Her name’s Natalie Rushman – and our relationship was strictly professional.”

Tony leaned back into the couch, grinning back. “Uh huh, of course it was.”

“It was!” Pepper insisted, then bit her lip before adding, “Though that doesn’t mean I can’t ask her out when Stane’s trial is over.”

Tony’s grin drooped slightly as the reality of everything Pepper had told him came crashing back down onto him. “I assume we’re going to have to talk about … well, a fuckton of things, now that I’m back,” he said, while carefully pushing himself up from the couch. “But it can wait until tomorrow, right?”

Pepper rose beside him, hands out slightly as if expecting him to fall. “Yes. It can wait. Go and get some rest.”

He turned to do just that, then turned back. “… thank you. For … handling everything, while I was away.”

“Always,” Pepper said.

~

Tony finally made his way down to his workshop. Walking down the stairs and through the glass doors felt surreal, like he was dreaming again.

“Honey, I’m home!” he called out. Then let out a delighted laugh when all three of his bots immediately raced each other across the room, desperate to get to him.

“Welcome home, sir,” JARVIS said, and for an artificial intelligence Tony had literally created he sure had a lot of emotion in his voice. “We have all missed you.”

“I can see that,” Tony replied, patting each of the bots in turn, grumbling good-naturedly about not having enough hands to pat all three of them at the same time.

His breath came easier, as he walked into the familiar space. He’d expected it to feel … stale somehow, dusty after months away, even with his cleaning bots. But the air he breathed into his lungs felt clear and sweet with the tang of metal and the barest hint of exhaust.

The bots followed him as he made his way around the room, reacquainting himself, letting his hands drift over everything – his beautiful cars, the bits and pieces of projects he’d been working on, more than a few sections of prototype arm or leg or heart.

His comfortable worn couch, shipped all the way over from his lab in MIT, was exactly where he left it, and all Tony wanted to do was drop down onto it and sleep.

But when he got closer he stopped short.

“JARVIS? What is-“ he began, unfreezing to step closer and pick up the sketchbook nestled among the rumpled blankets on the couch.

“Sorry, I was wondering where I left that,” a voice said from over by the doorway.

Tony whirled around, heart racing, to find Steve and Bucky standing in the entrance to the lab, looking uncertain.

“Mister Rogers and Mister Barnes have been taking care of your workshop while you were away, sir,” JARVIS explained.

“What?” Tony breathed. He should be horrified. His most private space had been invaded by two men who were practically strangers to him. The thought of them poking around his projects, sitting on his worn couch, occupying the space that was truly his home, should have made him feel sick.

But then DUM-E made a happy chirrup noise and rolled over to the two men eagerly. Bucky laughed, scratching at the top of DUM-E’s arm and cooing at him. “Hey buddy, did you miss us? We were only gone a day!” U and Butterfingers made slightly more dignified, but no less happy, noises and hurriedly left Tony’s side to join in.

Steve leaned in closer to reassure them. “Don’t worry you two, there’s more than enough for everyone.” His long, delicate fingers tickled their way along each of their arms and down their claws.

Tony let out a disbelieving sound, and both men immediately stopped, looking guilty.

Bucky scratched the back of his neck. “Sorry, uh, Tony,” he stumbled over the name like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to use it, and Tony’s heart ached, “We didn’t mean to intrude.”

“We just wanted to see where you worked, the first day we came here,” Steve explained, “’Cause Pepper said you spent most of your time down here. But then JARVIS introduced himself, and introduced us to the bots, and, uh, we kind of ended up spending most of our time here, while you were … gone.”

“It’s really amazing,” Bucky added, swallowing, probably because Tony’s face hadn’t been able to unfreeze from the shock. “Really, you make so many incredible things.” He glanced over at the bots, at that, expression so fond that Tony felt himself getting choked up all over again.

He sat down on the couch without quite realising what had happened, the sketchbook (Steve’s sketchbook) still clutched in his hands. “You had free reign of my entire mansion, but you chose to spend all your time down here?” he repeated, still incredulous, “Because you wanted to get to know me?”

Steve and Bucky exchanged a glance at that, still looking guilty. But some of the challenge from earlier was back on Bucky’s face. “It seemed only fair, since you’ve been getting to know us for all these years, that we be allowed to get to know you in return. Seeing as we’ve been doing this all … vicariously. Apparently.” One of his eyebrows rose at that, and oh god, Tony knew this was a really bad time to be feeling anything other than guilty and yet he couldn’t deny the burst of desire he felt at that. Damn him and his weakness for intelligent, sarcastic people who weren’t afraid to challenge him or call him out on his bullshit.

But then the reality of the situation – the fact that he was having this conversation, with his soulmates – crashed back down to him. Tony swallowed heavily. “Right. I guess I … owe you an explanation, for that?”

“Pepper said you told her we didn’t want you,” Steve said, making his way across the workshop towards him, Bucky following his lead. “Which is funny, because I don’t remember being asked.” And oh, fuck fuck fuck, they were both like this? Oh Tony was doomed. Mostly because they were about to realise what a terrible person he was and leave, and now he knew exactly what he was missing out on.

Tony winced. “I … may have made an … executive decision. That you would both be better off without me,” he hesitantly explained, trying to ignore the way both of their eyebrows were steadily climbing up their foreheads in matching dubious expressions.

“And you don’t think we should have had some say in the matter?” Steve countered.

And Tony might have been completely off centre and unbalanced, with everything that had happened, but something about the way Steve said that, the hint of arrogance, of anger, finally set Tony off.

He rose from the couch, dropping the sketchbook onto the cushion behind him and faced his soulmates head on.

“No, I don’t,” Tony said, the steel finally back in his voice, twenty five years of rage at the entire fucking concept of soulmates filling him – and finally finding a worthy target. “In case you’ve forgotten, you don’t know me, and I don’t know you – either of you. And I don’t owe you shit.”

Steve’s eyes widened, but Bucky was scowling now. “I told you, Steve. Didn’t I warn you? We’re not good enough for him, never will be.”

Tony let out a startled, disbelieving laugh. “What did I just say? Didn’t I just say that you don’t know me? So don’t presume to know what I’m thinking, Mister Barnes.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky countered, taking a step closer, his eyes stormy in their fury, “Then why don’t you enlighten us, Mister Billionaire? We’re not geniuses like you, so you’ll have to spell out why exactly the Great Tony Stark doesn’t find us worthy.”

Tony spluttered, so caught off guard that his reply spilled free before he could stop it. “No, you idiot, you’ve got it all backwards! I’m not worthy of you!”

“Wait, what?” Steve said, reeling in surprise.

Tony cringed, but the words were already out, so he might as well put the rest of the nails in the coffin. “You were already together, when I turned eighteen, already sharing your skin, writing to each other all the time while Bucky was deployed,” he said, pacing in front of the couch. “I could tell, straight away, that you were … that it was real, you know, true love. I woke up on my eighteenth birthday and the first words that appeared were the both of you saying how much you missed each other! I could tell, right then and there, just from your words, how fucking happy you were together. And I knew that I couldn’t get in between that! I couldn’t … couldn’t ruin it.” He scrubbed a sleeve across his eyes, ignoring the hint of dampness he found. “You’re both amazing, and more than worthy and good enough and whatever else you were thinking I didn’t think you were. I was just saving you the trouble of realising I wasn’t.”

Steve stepped forward, catching Tony’s elbow as he turned to make another pass of the couch. Tony had to stop himself from flinching, but Steve still backed off straight away, once he had his attention. “Tony,” he said gently, “Why would you think that you would ruin anything?”

Tony’s gaze skittered away from Steve’s face, Howard’s voice ringing in his ears, louder now than ever. “It’s what I do,” he said simply. Unable to explain any more than that.

“That’s not what Pepper says,” Steve replied. And Tony looked up at him, confused. “According to her, you work harder than anyone to try to keep everyone happy – people in your company, your customers, her and Happy and Rhodey. You fix things. You build things. That doesn’t sound like ruining anything to me.”

Tony didn’t know what to say to that. Howard’s voice was screaming at him now, telling him he was wrong, Steve was wrong, Pepper was wrong, they were all wrong wrong wrong.

Bucky gently touched his other elbow, also only for a second, like he already knew Tony was going to jump, like he’d been paying attention. “Tony. You set up an entire prosthetics division in a month and gave free prosthetics to every veteran in the entire country, just to hide the fact that you built me a new arm. If that’s not true love, I don’t know what is.”

Tony thought he was done with crying, done with feeling like the words, the emotions were stuck in his throat, but fresh tears burned in his eyes.

“You were right, about me and Bucky,” Steve explained, voice still so gentle, “What we have together is true love, it is that real, rare soulmate connection that not everyone is lucky enough to have,” and Tony cringed away, not wanting to hear the confirmation, “but Tony, you wouldn’t be getting in between that. You’re our soulmate, you’re meant to be part of that!”

And now Tony’s heart was pounding so hard it was drowning out Howard’s voice. Howard’s lies.

He looked up, finally, into Steve’s earnest blue eyes and Bucky’s kind grey ones. “I don’t want to poison you,” he whispered. Bucky and Steve both frowned in confusion, exchanging a glance, so Tony went on, even quieter now, voice so small in the cavernous space of his workshop. “My father … he … I watched my mother fade away, after all those years stuck with him. I couldn’t do that to you.”

Steve looked stricken, and before Tony knew what was happening he had the other man’s arms around him. “Tony, your soul isn’t – you’re not –“ he stumbled over the words.

Then Tony felt another pair of arms around him and Bucky murmured, quiet enough for only the three of them to hear. “Don’t be a fuckin’ idiot.”

A ragged sound erupted from Tony’s throat and he tried to pull away.

“Bucky!” Steve exclaimed.

“No,” Bucky insisted, squeezing them both tighter so Tony couldn’t escape, voice raising so they couldn’t argue. “Listen to me. That’s a load of crap, Tony! Weren’t you listening to a word we just said, you jerk? I don’t know what kind of asshole your dad was, but he ain’t you doll. You ain’t poison, or toxic, or any of that! And it makes me so mad to think we’ve missed out on spending the last seven years with you because he poisoned you with some sort of BS that made you think you weren’t worthy of us!”

Tony gaped, waiting for Howard’s voice to return, waiting for it to counter what Bucky was saying, what he and Steve had already said. But it was silent. And Tony knew that, even if it did come back, he’d now have Bucky’s voice there, saying that whatever Howard was saying was … was crap.

Steve huffed out a laugh, his breath puffing against Tony’s cheek, before he pulled back to look at Tony, his arms still circled around his waist. “Bucky’s right. Though he could have found a better way to say it,” he added, gave Bucky an amused, disapproving look, eyebrow raised, then looked back at Tony, “Tony we … we’ve missed you.”

“What?” Tony said, frowning, “But you didn’t know you had another soulmate … did you?”

Steve shook his head, “You kept yourself pretty well hidden, all these years, I have no idea how you managed it, to be honest. But we still knew, on some level,” he exchanged a glance with Bucky, “Always felt like there was a piece missing. Thought it was just something wrong with us, for a long time.”

And now Tony’s heart clenched, not believing what he was hearing. “What?” he repeated. “But you … you said.”

“It can be true love and still feel like we’re missing something,” Bucky murmured, his expression while looking at Steve loaded with so many emotions Tony couldn’t read them. “Not that we really admitted to each other that we felt that way. At least, not until your mark showed up.” At this he took one of his hands off Tony to press against his own chest, rubbing in the place the arc reactor was.

Tony moved his own hand to press against the arc reactor, nestled within bandages since Afghanistan to protect it from prying eyes.

“Does it hurt?” Steve asked, releasing Tony and stepping back.

Tony looked over to him, startled, to find him staring down at where Tony’s hand was. For a second he considered denying it, but that was ridiculous, they already knew something had happened. They had the mark on their own chests to prove it.

“The worst of it has healed,” Tony said, hesitating for a moment before he reached down and tugged his shirt off.

“Woah, you don’t have to-“ Steve began.

But Tony was tired of hiding, especially from them. He’d already revealed so much … so many things he promised himself he wouldn’t. And here they were, still by his side. If they were going to go, surely they would have done it by now.

He deftly undid the bandages, revealing the arc reactor – shining with blue light – and the ring of scarring that surrounded it.

“Holy shit,” Bucky breathed, “What the fuck did they do to you?”

Tony shook his head, “I built this myself,” he explained, tapping it gently, liking the way it felt when he did it, the reminder that he was still alive. “I was caught in an explosion, before they grabbed me – they operated, but, well, it was a fucking cave, and they couldn’t remove the shrapnel. So they stuck an electromagnet in my chest, to stop it from piercing my heart.”

“Jesus Christ,” Steve said, eyes wide with shock, the glow of the arc reactor making his face look ethereal in its soft blue light.

“They had it hooked up to a car battery,” Tony went on, keeping his tone purposefully blasé, “Which sucked. Sooo, I built this,” he tapped it again, “Miniature arc reactor.”

Both of them gaped at him, whether from the horror story or from his tone, he wasn’t sure.

“You built a miniaturised version of your arc reactor, while kidnapped and being held in a cave in Afghanistan?” Bucky asked, tone incredulous, but the look in his eyes. God, Tony wanted to hide away from that gaze – the awe (and was that pride?) burned. But it was a good kind of burn, like finally feeling warmth on skin that had been frozen.

“I, uh, also built a suit of incredibly advanced armour, which I used to escape,” Tony couldn’t help but add, “Well, incredibly advanced for being built in a cave in Afghanistan, I mean, it flew, briefly, and there were flamethrowers … but I’m sure I could come up with something a hundred times better now that I have access to actual technology again. And huh, that’s an idea-”

His thoughtful rambling was cut off by Steve’s delighted laugh, and he blinked over at him, owlishly, for a moment before the blond reached up, cupped his jaw in his long fingers and pressed a firm, wet kiss against Tony’s lips.

“Fuck. Sorry,” Steve breathed, after he’d pulled back, “Should’ve asked. I just- god, you’re incredible.”

Tony stood frozen in place, lips still slightly parted, eyes wide and startled.

“I think you broke him, Stevie,” Bucky said, sounding like he was trying to be concerned but couldn’t quite hide his amusement.

“Shit,” Steve cursed again, “I’m sorry, Tony, I’m sure this is all a lot to take in. I mean, I can still barely believe it, and we’ve had time to get used to the idea. But-“

“You think I’m incredible?” was not what Tony meant to ask. Seems like Bucky was right about Steve breaking his brain.

This time it was Bucky who laughed, a deeply amused rumble that drew Tony’s attention away from Steve (which was quite a feat, how were they both so damn captivating?). “We’ve been saying as much for a while now, doll, but I’m seeing that you need a more … direct approach,” he said, before stepping forward and gently taking Tony’s chin in his metal hand.

Tony had a second to finally appreciate his craftsmanship first hand. Felt the press of warm, smooth metal against his skin, then Bucky leaned down and met his lips, and now that Tony was expecting it he catalogued the differences between Steve and Bucky’s mouths on him. Noticed the way Bucky relaxed into it, where Steve was more direct. The way Bucky’s lower lip was softer and poutier against his own.

He shuddered as Bucky pulled away, after far too short a time, though he left his hand curved against Tony’s jaw.

Steve cleared his throat, and both of them startled slightly as they tore their gaze away from each other to look over at him – and wow, Tony looked forward to seeing how far down that blush went. “Well. I think we can safely say that this is not just going to be a platonic, romantic soulmate relationship,” Steve said, voice slightly deeper and, now that Tony was taking in all the details, pupils blown wide.

“Like what you see, Rogers?” Bucky teased, fingertips stroking along Tony’s jaw. Tony couldn’t help the way his eyelids fluttered, it had been a long time since someone had touched him like that. Like he was something precious.

“Do I like seeing you make our soulmate melt into a puddle of goo on the floor?” Steve teased back, “Hmmm, let me think about that.”

Bucky chuckled, turning back to Tony and seemingly only just noticing the effect he was having on him. “Are you finally getting the message, Stark?” he asked, voice teasing but gaze intense.

“I don’t know,” Tony replied, “I think I might still need some convincing.”

Bucky chuckled again, “Whatdya say Stevie?”

Steve stepped forward into Tony’s space once more, gently brushing Bucky’s hand aside so that he could press both of his to either side of Tony’s jaw again. “I’d say you didn’t get enough of a show the first time, Buck.”

And then he leaned in, but Tony met him halfway, their mouths clashing. The air was electric around them, and Tony felt like he could barely keep up, this day – this past few months really – had been such a rollercoaster and he was only just hanging on. He couldn’t believe he was here. That this was happening. That he was allowed to do this.

Tony let out a desperate sound, one hand grabbing Steve around the waist and the other threading into the hair at the back of his neck, as he deepened the kiss. Their tongues tangled wetly, and Steve made a breathy noise in the back of his throat that went straight to Tony’s groin.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Bucky groaned from beside them. “You weren’t kidding before, Stevie, this is- fuck.”

Steve broke away from the kiss to pant into Tony’s neck. “I know,” he replied, in between gasps for air. “God, Tony.” And then he lifted his mouth and dove back in for more, tongue pressing in to explore every inch of Tony’s mouth. His hand had tightened around Tony’s face, holding him in place, but when he pulled back again to suck in more air the other hand swept down Tony’s neck to his shoulder.

Steve looked down at the mark that encircled Tony’s shoulder. Now that what was left of Bucky’s shoulder had healed, the mark had settled into a smooth arc on the one side, with lines radiating out like a drawing of a sun on the other, towards Tony’s neck. He traced the soulmark, so gently, and looked back up at Tony’s face, then over at Bucky.

“I wish I’d known you were there,” Steve said quietly, “I felt so alone that night.”

Tony swallowed heavily, “I’m sorry.” He lifted his hand and pressed it over Steve’s, onto the mark. “I wanted to write. I sat up all night, thinking about you, worrying about Bucky.”

“I guess we were all feeling alone, that night,” Bucky said softly. His jaw was clenched, gaze dropped down away from them both, when Tony looked over.

Tony reached out for him with his other hand, catching his flesh wrist and tugging gently until Bucky looked back up at him. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. For both of you.”

Bucky looked sad for a moment before he shrugged, “You’re here now,” he said, tone firm. “And besides, you were there for me afterwards, even if we didn’t know at the time.” He lifted up his prosthetic hand, reaching for Tony again, his metal fingers brushing against his cheek, then down along his throat, his collarbone, and down to rest just above his arc reactor. “Seriously Tony, I won’t ever be able to thank you enough for building this for me. It’s incredible.”

Tony reached up to tangle his fingers with Bucky’s metal ones. Lifted the hand so he could study it more closely. “It was the least I could do,” he said, shrugging.

Steve laughed softly, “Tony, it’s a work of art,” he countered, also reaching out for Bucky’s arm, tracing his fingers along the metal plates of his forearm.

And Tony didn’t exactly have a reputation for modesty. “Of course it is,” he agreed, “I built it.” He let his fingers nimbly trace all of the joints, remembering the painstaking work he put into crafting all of them. “Honestly? It was worth it just to see it like this, being used.”

“You ain’t seen nothing yet,” Bucky teased, smirking, and Tony flushed. He might have had one or two fantasies about what Bucky could do to him, with this arm, while he was building it. Cut him some slack, there were a lot of long, lonely nights down here in the workshop. Bucky chuckled, “Told ya! You owe me five bucks, Steve.”

Tony blinked in confusion at both of them, while Steve let out a put upon sigh, then smirked, “Bucky reckoned you were the type to get all hot and bothered by your own tech,” he explained, voice low, eyes twinkling.

“Well, can ya blame him?” Bucky asked, extricating his hand from their grasp so he could wiggle his fingers, watching the seamless motion before looking up at Tony through his lashes. “I think it’s about time I thanked you properly.” He reached for Tony, who leaned into him like he was being pulled in by his gravity. Their mouths crashed together, Bucky pouring all of his pent up emotions into the kiss. His flesh hand squeezed at the back of Tony’s neck, while the metal one explored every inch of Tony’s skin within reach, smooth fingers and articulated joints and the sweep of his palm brushing down Tony’s arm and then back up his side.

Tony had to lift his mouth away, after an eternity, to breathe in harsh pants, Bucky’s hot breath mingling with his own. The pants turned into a ragged moan when Tony suddenly felt Steve’s lips mouthing at the side of his neck. Steve’s hand mapped the skin of Tony’s back, and it was overwhelming, feeling both of them around him, learning his body, tasting and touching.

“You know,” Tony managed to gasp out, “I have a perfectly good couch right here.”

Bucky laughed, leaning in for another taste of Tony’s lips before he pulled back enough to look over Tony’s shoulder at his couch. “Oh, we know – we’re very fond of it. Aren’t we Stevie?” he asked, smirking over at Steve, whose cheeks flamed red.

Tony gasped in mock outrage, “You didn’t.”

Bucky laughed even louder, reaching out for Steve, whose whole face was red now. Their mouths met, Bucky’s lips still turned up at the corner with his laughter, and oh, Tony had been dreaming about this for a long, long time. Had fantasised about them together every time he read their words scrawled on his thighs. They fit together perfectly, Steve’s smaller frame curving up into Bucky’s larger one, blond hair contrasting with brunet.

Tony let himself take the few steps back and drop down onto the couch behind him. His fingers curled into the blanket, whole body growing warm at the thought of the two of them together, here, on this beloved piece of furniture that had seen him through so many nights alone.

Steve and Bucky drew apart enough to look over at Tony, and then seemed to move as one towards him. Steve stepped straight over to Tony, knees coming up on either side of Tony’s hips as he straddled his lap. He was heavier than he looked, but in a comfortable way, and Tony’s heart felt like it was going to beat right out of his chest. He was sure this would start feeling real at some point, but until that happened he was going to grab onto this moment with both hands. Just in case.

And if the grabbing was both literal and metaphorical, and the moment was also Steve’s wonderfully firm ass, well, Tony had always been more practical than poetic.

“Is this okay?” Steve asked, rocking himself backward into Tony’s hands and forward so that Tony could feel the drag of Steve’s cock against his own, through their pants.

Tony groaned. “Absolutely. Way more than okay.”

He felt the couch dip beside him, and looked over as Bucky cursed, before reaching under himself and pulling his hand back out, Steve’s sketchbook clutched in it. “I was gonna say you two were pretty as a picture,” Bucky grumbled, “But that doesn’t mean I wanted to draw it.”

Steve laughed, the sound travelling all the way down his body and into Tony’s, where they met. Tony squeezed his ass more firmly, needing to feel him even closer, before letting his hands trail down to the back of Steve’s thighs. Steve moaned, leaning forward with the motion and rubbing his cock more insistently against Tony’s, pressing their mouths together and holding onto his shoulders for balance.

“Fuck,” Bucky groaned out beside them, and maybe it should have been awkward, being watched, but Tony felt himself growing even more aroused at the reminder that it was the three of them, all together.

Steve must have felt the same because his tongue delved deeper into Tony’s mouth, his hands gripping desperately into the meat of Tony’s shoulders, and Tony was sure that if he could move his hands from where they were using Steve’s thighs to press the other man against him, that he’d find the front of his sweatpants damp with precome.

“You should fuck him, Tony,” Bucky murmured, voice starting to sound wrecked, just from watching them. “He loves it, don’t ya Stevie? Being spread open, filled up.”

Steve whined, high in his throat, before gasping out, “Oh, fuck, yes, Tony, please.”

Tony’s heart pounded even harder, eyes huge as he pulled back enough to see Steve’s face. “Fuck, Steve, are you sure?”

Steve’s pupils were blown wide, the sliver of blue looking even brighter in the glow from the arc reactor, his lips were swollen red and sweat was beading on his forehead. “Yes, definitely,” he replied, steady tone at odds with the rest of his appearance.

Tony swallowed, and Steve’s eyes tracked the motion.

Bucky shifted on the couch beside them, “Does Tony keep any lube down here JARVIS?”

“I believe it should be in the third drawer on the left,” JARVIS replied, primly. And Tony laughed at how much his poor child had been subjected to.

“Sorry J,” he apologised, “Engage privacy mode, scrub the last, uh, however much footage since Steve and Bucky came down here.”

“Gladly, sir.”

Steve froze on top of him, “Wait, footage?”

Tony smirked, letting his fingers slowly make their way from the backs of Steve’s thighs back up towards his ass. “Don’t worry, I’ll delete any, uh, incriminating footage,” he reassured him, “After thoroughly reviewing it of course.”

Steve looked momentarily horrified, but then smirked in return. “Only if we can ‘review’ it alongside you,” he countered.

And Tony couldn’t help leaning in for another, filthy, kiss. “I look forward to it.”

He let his fingers continue their journey around Steve’s asscheeks, before pressing the tip of one against the pucker of muscle in the centre, delighting in the way it made Steve arch into him, moaning.

Steve leaned back, sitting up straighter and fumbling with the edge of his t-shirt. Tony was no help whatsoever, purposefully rubbing his finger over the same spot just to watch Steve hitch out another desperate breath.

“Here,” Bucky said, returning. He leaned down, one knee pressing into the couch beside Tony so that he could press along Steve’s back, Tony’s hand caught between them. Dropping the lube beside Tony, he tilted Steve’s head to the side and gave him the filthiest kiss Tony had ever had the pleasure of watching. His hands slid all the way down Steve’s torso to his hips, fingertips tracing against the place where he and Tony were pressed together. Then he drew his hands back up, snagging the edge of Steve’s t-shirt on the way and pulling it up over Steve’s head as he stood back up.

Tony was so distracted by the sight that it took him a moment to notice the mark he’d left on Steve’s chest. A perfect circle cut into the centre of his ribcage. It was a darker red than the edge of Bucky’s mark, almost black. And the tiny lines that radiated out from it perfectly matched his scar tissue.

Tony reached up to press his fingertips against the mark. Then immediately leaned forward to press a kiss against it.

Steve breathed out, roughly, and curled his hand around the back of Tony’s neck.

Any words he wanted to say were stuck in his throat. But he knew he’d have time, later, assuming this wasn’t all an extremely vivid dream, to say them. So instead he diverted his attention to the very important task of tasting one of Steve’s nipples, laving against it with the flat of his tongue, while Steve gasped above him.

“Oh, yeah,” Bucky murmured, from behind Steve, “Good choice. Stevie’s so sensitive there, aren’t ya?”

“Hnnn, Buck,” Steve breathed out. Then he gasped out again, and Tony pulled back from his ministrations to find Bucky had knelt down in front of the couch and had taken over when Tony had gotten distracted. He helped support Steve’s weight as Bucky lifted him up enough to tug his pants down over his ass, and felt his breath speed up alongside Steve’s own as Bucky reached for the lube he’d left on the couch and popped open the lid.

Steve’s eyelids fluttered as Bucky began to prep him, and he leaned forward to support himself on Tony, who groaned at the contact – at the whole damn situation. He still couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Fuck, Steve,” Tony whispered, and was rewarded by Steve cracking open his eyelids to stare down at him, mouth pulling wide in a smile before it opened involuntarily again as Bucky methodically set to work on opening Steve up with his fingers.

Tony couldn’t resist peeking around Steve to catch a glimpse of Bucky, body shadowed in the dim light of the workshop (with the arc reactor’s light blocked by Steve’s body), eyes intense and lust-filled as he carefully stretched Steve open. He glanced over, apparently feeling Tony’s eyes on him. “Can’t wait to watch you,” he murmured, fingers still working. Tony groaned, and straightened up so he could pull Steve into a sloppy kiss.

He lost track of time, kissing Steve, trailing his mouth down his jaw, neck, chest, listening to the wet sounds of Bucky’s fingers as they pressed and stretched, feeling the way Steve rocked into the motion, his hands clutching restlessly against Tony’s shoulders and pressing him more firmly into the couch.

And then, “Fuuuck, Bucky, I’m ready - I’m ready,” Steve insisted.

Bucky pressed his fingers into Steve one last time, making him arch into Tony with a desperate sound, before he pulled them out.

“Tony, pants,” Bucky said, making Tony blink, stupidly, feeling like he was coming out of a daze.

“Right. Fuck,” Tony murmured, fumbling with the slacks he was wearing and cursing buttons before he finally wrangled them down along with the silk boxers – Steve scrambling to get his own pants off at the same time.

Tony groaned as his cock was finally freed, hard and leaking, and accidentally neglected in his single-minded focus on Steve’s body above him. His groan deepened as he felt metal fingers wrap around it, just for a moment, before Bucky helpfully positioned them both and then Steve’s warm weight was sinking down onto him, around him, squeezing him, and it was already too much for Tony, who had been waiting for this for so long.

He barely registered the dip in the couch beside him, as Bucky repositioned himself to watch them. Was focused wholly on Steve – Steve’s blue eyes staring down at him, half-lidded with lust and pleasure; Steve’s skin, blushing absolutely everywhere, the marks on his chest and shoulder fading into the red; Steve’s hands, long fingers clutching at him; Steve’s legs, strong and powerful as they lifted his weight up and allowed gravity to pull him down, around Tony, both of them moaning, mouths not even kissing any more, just breathing the same wet air as Steve set a rhythm, moving above Tony, around Tony, his cock bouncing with the motion.

“Fuck, fuck, Tony,” Steve whined, and Tony growled and groaned, noises he didn’t even recognise spilling from his lips as his hips snapped up to meet Steve’s, cock driving harder and faster into his warmth. He adjusted the angle incrementally, with the last remaining brain cell of his engineering mind, until he found the right place and a high pitched whine tore its way out of Steve’s throat. The slap of wet skin on skin was incredible to his lust-blown mind and Tony wanted it to last forever, grabbed onto Steve’s waist more firmly so that he could help lift him up and slam him back down, over and over and over, until Steve was just making one continual whining noise, eyes squeezed shut.

“S-Steve,” Tony gasped out, feeling his balls tighten, knowing he wasn’t going to be able to last much longer. It was too much, too overwhelming, but he didn’t want to come until Steve had.

Steve let out a sound that was more sob than moan, desperate and loud, and began moving impossibly faster and harder, chasing his orgasm. Tony forced open his eyes long enough to confirm that Bucky had a hand around Steve’s cock, and all it took was the sight of the hand that Tony had made, shiny with lube and squeezed into a fist, with Steve’s swollen cock, dripping with a constant stream of precome now, sliding in and out of it, for Tony to feel the electric rush race from his spine to his whole body. He slammed into Steve, once, twice, three times, come spurting out of him, and vision going white.

Steve groaned above him, and then shouted, “Tony!” before Tony felt hot stripes of come being painted along his chest and stomach.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Bucky breathed out, low and desperate, and Tony tried and failed to squint his eyes open, his heart still racing, breath still burning in his lungs, coming down from the high.

Steve was a heavy weight sprawled against him, panting into the junction of Tony’s neck and shoulder. With a groan, he lifted himself off Tony and managed to wriggle himself to Tony’s side, their legs still half tangled together, but the rest of him tucked into the corner of the couch now.

“Come on, Buck,” Steve slurred out, and one of his hands reached over to Tony’s stomach, in what he belated realised was a possessive motion, when Steve began rubbing his own come into Tony’s skin.

Tony finally forced his eyes open and found Bucky kneeling on the couch beside them, shirtless, dick tenting his pants, staring between him and Steve with naked want in his eyes, lower lip swollen and red from where his teeth were biting down on it.

“He has a – thing,” Steve murmured, into Tony’s ear, pressing more firmly on Tony’s skin, “Likes to come on me.” Tony gasped, his cock giving a feeble twitch that signalled its approval of this idea (and huh, found a new kink). Steve chuckled, “We’re both a bit … possessive,” he added, nipping lazily at Tony’s jaw.

Tony looked back over at Bucky, who was clearly torn – or waiting for permission.

“What are you waiting for then, Buck?” Tony asked, deliberately leaning back so that his body was even more sprawled out. “A handwritten invitation? ‘Cause I could write one.”

Bucky snorted out a laugh, then reached down to tug his pants down, hissing as his – incredibly red and painfully hard looking – cock sprung out from its fabric prison. Then he looked Tony in the eyes, and apparently found whatever confirmation he needed there, because he wrapped his metal hand around his own dick, and Tony would never get tired of seeing that.

“I am never going to get tired of seeing that,” Tony announced, feeling it important to share. “Fuck, look at you, you’re a piece of goddamn art.”

“Hnng, Tony,” Bucky groaned out, hand speeding up, catching the light as it moved. He held himself up on the couch, cock only inches away from Tony, his other arm straining with the effort of holding the rest of him up in a way that only highlighted how strong he was.

“Yeah,” Tony breathed out, watching the display in front of him with rapt attention, “Come on, that’s it. You look so good. I can’t believe I’m finally getting to see this. I used to read all of your dirty letters to each other and touch myself, thinking about you,” he admitted, feeling the low hum of arousal trying to wend its way back into his veins, “I can’t wait to do all the things you wrote about. And more. I have a list.”

Steve laughed in his ear, such a joyful sound that Tony couldn’t help turning away from Bucky for just a second to press a kiss against his mouth. Still delighted that he was allowed. That this was real.

Bucky groaned again, breath panting out now, already so wound up from watching Tony and Steve together.

“Yes, that’s it,” Steve murmured, moving his hand lower to rest on Tony’s hip, leaving the rest of his skin a wide open expanse. “Come on Buck. Come for us.”

“Steve,” Bucky whined, “Tony!” His eyes squeezed shut and his hand moved even faster, neck tilted back to expose the long stretch of his throat, muscles rippling with the exertion, practically glowing with sweat in the light of the arc reactor.

“Yesss,” Tony hissed out, eyes greedily taking in everything. “Come on – come on me, please, I want-“

Bucky opened his eyes suddenly, positioning himself perfectly so that when his orgasm hit, the next stroke along his cock sent a perfect arc of come splattering down across Tony’s stomach. All three of them groaned, but Bucky was the loudest, growling out a “Tony! Fuck, fuck!” as he spent himself across Tony’s skin.

Steve’s arm reached out to help catch Bucky as he slumped down, panting like he’d run a marathon.

Tony couldn’t resist reaching down to run his hands through the mess on his stomach. Felt, absurdly, like Steve and Bucky had claimed him, with their come. Which was ridiculous because they were already soulmates. They already shared their skin. But maybe that was why they liked it.

If Bucky’s ragged moan from beside him, when he cracked open his eyes to see what Tony was doing,  was any indication, whatever the reason he clearly liked it very much. Moving his arm looked like it took an effort, but he still pressed it over Tony’s, tangling their fingers together – the flesh ones for a change – and then rubbing the come into his skin in the same way Tony had.

A moment later, Steve’s hand joined theirs, all three of them pressed together, their bodies surrounding Tony, who felt like the shock was finally wearing off.

“This really happened, didn’t it?” Tony murmured, exhaustion catching at his voice, but not hiding the disbelief. “Because this was way, way too vivid for me to have dreamed up.”

He felt the prickle of Bucky’s stubble against his jaw as he pressed a kiss to it. “Yeah, doll, this really happened. And hopefully will happen again, really soon, once we’ve had a bit of shut eye.”

Tony’s chest felt warm at the thought, hope bursting out of him so that he felt giddy with it.

“I love you both,” Tony said. “I know it’s too soon, you barely know me but-“

“We love you too, Tony,” Steve reassured him, pressing a kiss to his opposite temple. “We meant what we wrote, while you were gone, and we still mean it now.”

Tony swallowed past the lump in his throat.

“We’ll write it every day, if we hafta,” Bucky murmured, shuffling himself around slowly so that he was sprawled next to Tony a bit more comfortably. “’Til you get the message.”

“You’re both wonderful,” Tony whispered, pressing a kiss first to Steve’s temple and then Bucky’s, both damp with sweat. He ignored the voice that tried to tell him he didn’t deserve them, it could go to hell, he had them now, and he wasn’t going to let them go.

~

The weeks after his return from Afghanistan were a whirlwind.

Although he wished desperately that he could just lock himself away in his workshop with Steve and Bucky and spend his days curled up with them on the couch (“you do, uh, have an actual bed, right?” Bucky had asked, early the next morning, as the three of them collapsed back against the cushions, sweaty and sated “this isn’t one of those eccentric genius things is it, sleeping on a couch?” – Tony had laughed and led them upstairs to his bedroom) Tony had a company to salvage.

His reputation as an eccentric billionaire recluse was well and truly shattered by his sudden public presence – an unfortunate, but necessary requirement to repairing both his own public image and his company’s. He gave exclusive magazine interviews and appeared on every late night talk show the country had, sidestepping questions about Afghanistan with more grace than he had the soulmate question years ago (luckily that seemed to be the furthest thing from their mind, because he hadn’t had the chance to talk to Bucky or Steve about going public).

Pepper and the FBI had done quite the job, excising Stane from SI along with all of the supporters he’d meticulously placed in strategic positions over the past decade, but building the company back up again – making sure there weren’t any rats they’d missed, and replacing them all with people Tony and Pepper trusted – was going to take months. Bringing the public along for the ride, selling them on the new direction the company was headed in, was an even more mammoth task.

It was made minutely easier by the accelerated pace of Stane’s trial (though even Tony’s money could only speed up the justice system from a glacial pace to a snail’s). Having an eye witness to testify to Stark Industries weapons being sold to and used by a terrorist group was the final nail in the coffin for Stane (Rushman was as terrifying as Pepper, Tony could see why she liked her).

And, best of all as far as Tony was concerned, Rhodey finally came around on the whole, ending weapons manufacturing plan.

He was so overwhelmingly busy with all of this, that he didn’t realise he was neglecting his only just established relationship until Steve and Bucky showed up in his workshop, eyebrows and the corners of their mouths downturned.

“Tony, we need to talk.”

Tony felt his eyes go wide, panic already fluttering through his chest like a flock of startled birds.

“Jesus Christ, Steve, don’t say it like that!” Bucky immediately jumped in, throwing a hand in front of Steve as if he had to physically push the phrase back in. “We’re not breaking up with you,” Bucky hastily reassured him, turning to face Tony, “Things have been great – it’s just, well, geez I don’t know how to say this in a way that won’t give you the totally wrong idea …”

“We have to go home,” Steve said, lips tugged further downward, looking so apologetic that even though Tony was kind of freaking out, he also felt kind of reassured. “It’s not that we don’t want to be with you! It’s just … well, I’ve already taken two months leave from work,” he explained – and Tony knew how much he loved his job as a curatorial assistant at the Whitney Museum of American Art, he’d overheard enough enthusiastic conversations between Pepper and Steve about O’Keeffe, Warhol and Rothko to be sure of that.

“And Sam says that if he has to spend another week looking after Rocket he’s going to ‘accidentally’ lock him outside, in the snow,” Bucky added, exasperated (Steve had thought Bucky would appreciate having a cat to keep him company while he was home alone, but had apparently found an absolute terror at the shelter).

“But we’ll write everyday,” Steve went on, so earnest and concerned that Tony couldn’t help but grin, his fears about his soulmates leaving him melting away.

“It’s alright, I understand,” he reassured them, surprised at the truth of the statement. Because really, he couldn’t expect them to uproot their lives to come and live with him in Malibu, especially when he was so busy with the trial and the company. “And things have been so insane around here I haven’t been able to spend time with either of you anyway,” he added, which was painful but the unfortunate reality at the moment. “But I’ll come visit as soon as things settle down?” he asked – couldn’t help but phrase it as a question, even if he was ninety-nine percent sure they weren’t planning on leaving permanently.

“You’d better,” Bucky said, tone threatening.

Steve rolled his eyes, “What Buck means to say, is that we’d like that very much.”

“Nope, I meant what I said,” Bucky countered, and Tony’s heart squeezed painfully.

“You won’t be able to keep me away,” he said. Meant it to come out teasing, instead of painfully honest.

Bucky crossed the space between them. “Good,” he said, pulling Tony in for a fierce kiss.

“When are you going?” Tony asked, when they drew back to breathe.

“Tomorrow,” Bucky said, with an apologetic frown.

Tony swallowed around the pain, but then grabbed Bucky by his metal hand and began marching him towards Steve and the door. “Well then we’d better make the most of it.”

~

They insisted on saying goodbye in the workshop, rather than letting him accompany them to the airport, patting the bots and waving to JARVIS, and Tony tried desperately to ignore how empty the space felt without them. He kept looking over, expecting to see Steve sketching on the couch, with Bucky beside him, using the holographic display to look at spring admissions for college.

As the minutes ticked on, Tony tried to ignore the ache in his chest, the part of him that still couldn’t quite believe, couldn’t entirely trust, hurting at their loss so soon after finally getting to have them in his life.

But then, not even half an hour after they’d left, Tony’s right arm tingled.

Miss you already, Steve wrote.

Tony’s heart leapt into his throat and he raced over to the bottom drawer of the kitchenette, and pulled out the pen.

Miss you more.

~

Without Steve and Bucky around to distract him, Tony began to feel the full weight of his … experience in Afghanistan. Or maybe it had just taken this long for his brain to start to be ready to deal with it.

His solution was a two birds one stone approach – he threw himself into a new project that had been percolating in the back of his mind ever since he’d escaped.

He didn’t exactly intend to keep the project a secret from them. He certainly didn’t keep any other aspect of his life secret now – complaining about the judicial process or the bureaucratic nonsense he found himself wading through for the company was his favourite pastime. He filled up every inch of his skin with words, making up for lost time by completely overdoing it. He thought he’d drive his soulmates batty, so he was shocked and delighted when one or both of them started to call him, on the phone, to share tidbits of their day and hear about all the things Tony couldn’t fit on their skin. Whether their intention all along was to get him to write less, being able to talk to them verbally about his day meant that their skin became a shared canvas again – an endless stream of messages, drawings and declarations of love.

The first time he stepped into the shower after a thirty-six hour workshop bender and found the ode on his thighs was written about him, he’d been so shocked he’d almost slipped. When, immediately after getting himself off in the shower, he’d realised that he could write a responding ode about them – well, the angry video call he’d gotten from a very red faced Steve about saving things like that for the evenings because some people were at work Tony had been totally worth it. Especially when he clarified that, hey, wait, are you calling from a bathroom cubicle, Steve? And is that your belt being done back up that I can hear?

(And when, ten minutes later, he received a single picture message from Bucky of the inked words on his thighs splattered with come, well, let’s just say that Tony did not in fact learn his lesson about when was and wasn’t an appropriate time.)

But the whole, building a new suit of armour thing? Tony just didn’t know how to bring it up, that was all. Like, oh, hey guys, just working on this incredibly advanced flying suit of armour so I never have to feel unsafe again. Yeah, no, not a conversation he wanted to have.

Fate kind of had other ideas though. And by fate he meant Pepper and Rhodey.

Keeping the existence of the suit from his soulmates living on the other side of the country was one thing. Keeping it from your best friend who worked with you and had complete access to your workshop, and who you accidentally scared when you discovered repulsors doubled as a weapon as well as propulsion system? Yeah, it didn’t exactly take a genius level intellect to figure it out. Especially not when you showed up to get some papers signed and found a giant hole smashed through three floors and your boss holding an ice pack to his head next to a very dusty prototype suit of armour.

He managed to brush off Pepper’s concern – and threats to tell Steve and Bucky – long enough to make the final modifications to the design, fabricate a new suit complete with a snazzy new paintjob that matched his emerging public persona as a flashy, charming eccentric genius, and fly to Gulmira.

It helped settle some angry, wounded animal part of him, to avenge Yinsen and make the first step towards paying him back for everything he’d done. The suit didn’t just make him feel safe, for the first time since his chest was filled with shrapnel, it made him feel powerful, like he could take on the entire world if he had to.

So Tony was surprisingly calm when he returned to his mansion, and his workshop, to find Pepper, Rhodey and Bucky waiting for him.

“What the fuck man?” Rhodey asked, as Tony struggled with a suit removal bot that clearly had more than a few bugs to work out. “Do you even realise that I just saved your ass from getting blown out of the sky?”

Tony frowned over at him, half distracted by the tug of war he was having with the removal bot over his gauntleted arm. “I was wondering why there wasn’t anyone sent after me,” he admitted, “Thought it might have just been some people sleeping on the job.”

“Sleeping on the job?!” Rhodey spluttered, indignant. He opened his mouth like he was going to continue telling Tony off, but Bucky interrupted.

“What the hell were you thinking, Tony? You should never have gone into an active combat zone!” he snapped, glowering as he stalked across the room to stand in front of him – ignoring the way Tony winced as the bot pinched his thigh in its attempt to remove the armour from his leg. “At least, not without backup,” Bucky added.

“Wait, what?!” Pepper exclaimed, glaring at the back of Bucky’s head and striding forward to face him. “You’re not supposed to encourage him! God, I should have insisted Steve come after all.”

Bucky snorted. “Steve’s been getting himself into fights and making me bail his ass out of them since we were four years old, Pepper. If you were hoping we’d be a peaceful influence on Tony, I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed,” he explained, only looking a tiny bit apologetic as he shrugged at her. Then he turned back to Tony, scowl sliding back onto his face. “Though that doesn’t mean we want you to get yourself killed, Tony!”

Finally free of the armour, Tony scratched the back of his head. “Had some business to take care of,” he said, simply.

Bucky studied him for a moment, then his brow smoothed, though the anger in his eyes giving way to worry was almost worst. “Well you’re not going back out in that thing until you’ve talked to me and Steve – properly,” he informed him, crossing his arms in a way that was probably supposed to be intimidating rather than a reminder of how gorgeous he was.

Tony stepped down off the removal bot’s platform, looking up into Bucky’s eyes. “I promise.”

Behind them Pepper sighed, “Well I suppose that’s something at least.”

Rhodey clasped her shoulder gently as he passed, giving Tony one of his patented What The Hell Have You Got Yourself Into Now looks, then studying the disassembled armour. “So what exactly can this armour of yours do?” he asked, annoyance already giving way to curiosity, and this was why they were friends in the first place.

Tony grinned, excited to show three of his favourite people what he’d created.

~

This time Tony insisted on taking Bucky to the airport personally – and then surprised him when the flight Pepper had told him she’d arranged turned out to be on Tony’s private jet.

“What, no, I can’t,” Bucky tried to argue, but Tony dismissed his concerns with a wave of his hand and then lead him up the stairs, dropping down into one of the comfortable leather seats by the window. Bucky sat across from him, gingerly, but then looked startled when the cabin crew closed and locked the external door. “Wait, shouldn’t you be getting back off?”

Tony raised an eyebrow, “You said we needed to talk – you, me and Steve.”

Bucky gaped at him. “So you’re flying all the way to New York?!”

“It seemed like an in-person sort of conversation,” Tony said, shrugging, “Besides, I’ve missed you.”

Bucky’s expression softened, though he still looked uncomfortable at the casual reminder of Tony’s wealth, “We’ve missed you too. Steve will be thrilled to see you – especially ‘cause this way he can tell you off face to face.”

Tony snorted out a laugh, “From what you were saying earlier, it sounds more like he’ll be asking me when his suit’ll be ready.”

Bucky’s eyes widened, “Please don’t even joke about that, that punk will absolutely take you up on the offer, and then I’ll have two idiots flying around in tin cans to worry about.”

Tony leaned further back in his seat, trying to project an aura of relaxation even as his heart sped up in his chest, “I’ll just have to build a third suit then, so you can keep an eye on us.”

“You can’t be serious,” Bucky said, eyes getting even wider.

Tony shrugged, “Does it really sound so crazy?”

“Yes,” Bucky replied, immediately. “Completely insane! Flying around in some sort of magical-“

“Mechanical!”

“-suit of armour, like some sort of- of-“

“Superhero?”

Bucky was gaping at Tony outright now, so Tony shrugged again, leaning forward to catch one of the cabin crew’s attention. “It’s just an idea. If you want me to put it away in storage and never think about it again, I will. But we could also do a lot of good in the world.” He turned away from Bucky’s incredulous expression to look up at the attendant, ordered a drink, and some food (flying all the way to Afghanistan and back made you hungry, who knew), and Bucky didn’t even look uncomfortable as he did the same.

“Let’s see what Steve has to say about all of this,” Bucky said, when they were alone again.

Tony nodded, and steered the conversation on to what Bucky had been up to since they’d last spoken.

~

The cab ride to Steve and Bucky’s apartment was filled with inane chatter and an underlying tension that set Tony’s teeth on edge. Tony was so busy being nervous about the upcoming conversation (still scared that every new challenge he presented to the relationship would be the dealbreaker) that he didn’t notice how fidgety Bucky had become until he dropped his keys while fumbling with the lock on their apartment door.

“Hey,” Tony said, brain catching up with the data he’d missed, and resting his hand on the small of his back as Bucky stooped down to scoop the keys up. “Are you alright? I shouldn’t have invited myself over out of the blue, should I?” he asked, belatedly realising his mistake.

“What? No, it’s fine!” Bucky replied, before wincing, “Just, uh, it’s not very, uh-“

Tony blinked at him, not following, “Tidy?” he guessed.

“Big,” Bucky said.

Tony blinked at him again, dumbly. “What did you think I was expecting? A penthouse in Manhattan?”

Bucky scowled and twisted the key in the lock, “Hardly. It’s just probably not what you’re used to,” he muttered, mulish. Then he pushed the door open, and cursed, dropping into a sudden crouch and catching a dark greyish brownish flash of fur before it escaped out the open door. “Damnit Rocket!” Bucky growled, ushering Tony inside so he could close the door and drop the squirming cat, which he was holding firmly but gently in his metal hand.

The cat bolted away as soon as his paws touched the ground, and Bucky sighed, straightening up and gesturing for Tony to follow him down the dimly lit hallway. He took in the framed pictures of Steve and Bucky and people he assumed were their friends and family, that ran along the wall. Then they stepped out into a cosy living space that was pretty much the polar opposite of his minimalist mansion in Malibu. The couch was huge, taking up half the living space, and dwarfing the sturdy coffee table in front of it, and the two armchairs squashed in at funny angles suggested a space that needed to accommodate a lot of people. The kitchen was a couple of decades out of date, but well maintained, and delicious smells were wafting out of it from a pot on the stove.

“How was Tony?” Steve’s voice called out, from a doorway off the living room, “I hope you told him off for-“ His voice grew louder, then cut off abruptly as he emerged, dressed in a shirt that was starting to wrinkle from a long day, bright red suspenders contrasting vividly against the blue fabric, a tea towel slung over one shoulder, and found Tony standing there beside Bucky. “Tony?!”

“Uh, surprise?” Tony ventured, second guessing his impulse decision even more.

Steve blinked rapidly, then his face dropped into a scowl and he grabbed the tea towel from his shoulder to flick Tony in the arm with it. “Tony! What the hell were you thinking?”

“I already told him that,” Bucky interrupted, rolling his eyes.

“I can’t believe you went into an active combat zone like that without any backup!” Steve went on.

“Told him that too!”

“He did! And I won’t do it again!” Tony reassured him, hands up in a placating gesture.

Steve flicked the tea towel back over his shoulder, still frowning. “Good. I should hope not.”

“No, really, I swear, I’ll never use the suit again,” Tony blurted out. The idea had seemed more and more sensible since he’d said it to Bucky on the plane, his soulmates didn’t want to be with some reckless superhero, they were barely used to the whole billionaire genius thing.

“What?” Steve asked, frown deepening. “Didn’t you only just finish building it?”

Tony nodded, then shook his head, “Doesn’t matter. It’s going into indefinite storage. I haven’t been thinking clearly,” he babbled, desperate for them to understand, “I needed to take care of things … in Gulmira. For a … a friend. But that’s done now. And you don’t need that sort of worry in your lives.”

“What happened to doing good in the world?” Bucky countered. He looked at Tony the way Pepper sometimes did, when she couldn’t figure him out, but way more intense.

Tony looked away, eyes finding a painting on the wall but not really taking it in. “You were right, it was a crazy idea.”

“Buck?” Steve asked, and Tony looked over to see some sort of silent facial expression conversation happening.

“Tony was talking about building the two of us – me and you – suits like his,” Bucky said, “Going out there and helping people like some sorta superheroes.”

“And what did you think? When he suggested that?” Steve asked.

Bucky shrugged, “Like he said, I told him it was a crazy idea.” He held Steve’s gaze for a moment, then looked away, “Doesn’t mean I haven’t been thinkin’ about it ever since he said it.”

“Wait, what?” Tony interrupted, sure his eyes were as wide as saucers.

“Would you really do it?” Steve asked, turning to face him, his expression … contemplative? “Build us suits like yours? I only saw the picture Bucky took this afternoon on his phone, didn’t really get to see any of the fancy details, but if you really used it to help save an entire village from terrorists, then it’s gotta be amazing.”

Tony’s ears were buzzing in a way that made him distantly worried he was about to pass out or freak out or something equally embarrassing. Did he hit his head? Was he dreaming this? “Uhhh … you took a picture of my suit with your phone?” he asked Bucky, as if that was remotely relevant right now.

Bucky shrugged his metal shoulder, “I didn’t realise you were planning on coming back with me. I wanted to show Steve what you’d built. It really is amazing Stevie – I thought my arm was impressive, but this is somethin’ else.”

“Well, we’ll just have to come and visit and see it in action,” Steve said, grinning at Tony, who was still gaping at them in disbelief. “Gotta see what we’re getting ourselves into.”

“You’re serious?” Tony couldn’t help but ask. Was waiting for them to say it was all just a joke, their way of getting him back for scaring them.

“We’ll have to think about it properly, and talk it over, but Buck’s right, it sounds completely crazy – and totally worth doing. Imagine all the people we can help!”

Tony looked over at Bucky, maybe hoping that he’d be the voice of reason here, but he was just grinning fondly at Steve, then at Tony when he noticed him staring. “Hey, what are you looking so shocked about? This whole thing was your idea,” he pointed out, eyebrow raised but smile still caught on his lips.

“Yeah, but I didn’t really think you’d take me up on it,” Tony said. And then immediately wished he hadn’t when the frown slid back onto Steve’s face.

“Wait, this wasn’t all some sort of joke, was it? Deflect our attention away from the real issue by dangling this crazy idea in front of us,” Steve said, studying Tony’s face intently.

“What? No. Of course not,” Tony hastily reassured him, shocked to hear his own concern thrown back at him. “I meant it, at the time, I just … I just thought, since then … you were so worried about me?” Then he frowned, brain catching up with his mouth, “But wait, hold on, what ‘real issue’ haven’t we been talking about?”

Steve sighed, “That wasn’t a great way to put it,” he said, “Because we have been talking … around it, I guess. The issue is, Tony, that we had to find out about this whole situation from Pepper! We thought something terrible had happened when she called us this morning! Do you have any idea how much you scared all of us?”

“Oh.” Tony blinked, then quickly looked down at his feet, studying the worn floorboards. “I’m sorry,” he said, throat tight around the words, “I didn’t want to scare you. That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you what I was working on, I didn’t want you to worry.”

Bucky made a disbelieving sound. “Because finding out you’re flying around in a tin can at mach two only after you’ve already flown it all the way back to Afghanistan to take on the same terrorist cell who already kidnapped you once single-handedly isn’t a worry at all,” he said, sarcastically.

Tony winced. He knew it sounded bad, when you put it that way. “I just … didn’t know how to tell you,” he murmured, rubbing his hand across the back of his neck.

Steve stepped forward and gently grasped Tony’s elbow, leaning down so that he could look Tony in the eye. “You thought we would talk you out of it,” he said.

Tony’s eyes skittered away from Steve’s. “That obvious, huh?”

Bucky sighed. “Tony, doll, we’re not trying to judge you, or say you shouldn’t have gone back there, or whatever else that big brain of yours is thinking. We just want you to see it from our point of view. Think of how it’d make you feel, if one of us went off and did something like that without telling you ‘til after the fact?”

And Tony did think about it. Imagined how it’d feel to find out through Sam, or the news, or wherever, that Bucky or Steve had gone off to fight terrorists with nothing for protection but some crazy new superpowers they hadn’t told him anything about. His shoulders finally drooped, releasing the tension he’d been carrying the entire flight, and he looked back up at both of them.

“I’m sorry, I should have told you,” he said.

Steve smiled, moving his hand up from Tony’s elbow to squeeze his shoulder. “It’s alright. As long as it doesn’t happen again. You wanna go out and save lives in your new tin can, you gotta run it by us first, deal?”

Tony blinked in surprise, then huffed out a laugh, “Yeah, okay, deal.”

“Or, even better,” Bucky interjected, “You can take one or both of us with you.”

“That would be the preferable option,” Steve agreed, pulling away from Tony to sling his arm around Bucky’s waist. “Can’t have you having all the fun by yourself.”

Tony’s mouth was open for a good twenty seconds before he found the words. “You’re both completely insane, aren’t you? God, no wonder we’re soulmates.”

Steve and Bucky both beamed at him, stepping forward to squash him into a hug.

“Can’t believe it’s taken you this long to figure it out,” Bucky teased.

“I guess we were trying to be on our best behaviour. Not scare him off,” Steve added, smirking.

And Tony knew they were just teasing him, but what they were saying … well it had enough truth to it that Tony actually did feel like he was only just waking up to the truth about who his soulmates were, and why fate had connected the three of them together.

The tension and fear melted out of him and Tony felt some of the excitement, the promise, of his new invention filling him up. He smirked back at his soulmates. “Well, I guess if you two are committed to being my sidekicks, I can’t exactly stop you.”

“Pfft, sidekicks?” Bucky spluttered, “You wish!”

Steve poked him in the side with one pointy finger. “Keep that up and we’ll go find our superpowers somewhere else. Then we’ll see who’s whose sidekick.”

Tony laughed, bright and free and happy in a way that surpassed even the pure joy of flying in the suit. “Like you’d have powers anywhere near as brilliant as the ones I can make for you,” he teased.

“I dunno, Buck, I reckon we can do better than being some sort of- of Iron Men, flying around, don’t you?”

“Definitely. People will be like, Iron Man? Who’s that loser? I want to see – geez, what will our superhero names be Stevie? This needs some serious consideration.”

“Hmmm,” Steve rubbed his chin in mock thought, “Well, considering my field of expertise, I should be Colonel, no, Captain America, defender of American artists everywhere.” He waved a hand in front of him like a banner, announcing his title. “And you can be, hmmm, oh, I know, the Winter Soldier.”

Bucky barked out a laugh. “What, because I used to be a soldier? How original,” he said dryly.

“And ‘cause you love the cold. Exactly,” Steve said, nodding with a shit-eating grin.

Tony had to bite back a laugh so he could sigh with appropriate drama. “Are you two done playing comic book writer? Iron Man, honestly, it’s not even factual. I’ll have you know, it’s a gold-titanium alloy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky said, waving him off, “You can tell us all about it when you show us the specs for our tin cans.” Then, before they could continue teasing each other, Bucky’s stomach grumbled, loudly. “Geez, how long have we been standing here talking while that perfectly good dinner sits waiting on the stove? Seriously, it smells amazing Stevie, can we eat already?”

It really did smell fantastic. But Tony spent all of thirty seconds appreciating the aroma before he immediately felt guilty for not thinking to call ahead. “Uh, I should go,” he blurted out.

Steve and Bucky’s faces whipped back to him. “What? Why?” Steve asked, genuinely shocked.

“Uh, well, I mean, you didn’t know I was coming. I can’t just invite myself to dinner, even I know that’s rude,” Tony babbled, wringing his hands together slightly.

Bucky laughed, “Babe, no, you don’t have to worry, Steve always makes enough to feed an army. Never know when our cheapskate friends are gonna stop by and expect to be fed,” he explained.

Steve leaned in and pressed a kiss to Tony’s cheek. “You’re such a sweetheart,” he said, which made Tony blink back at him in disbelief. “Come on, you can pay me back by helping Buck set the table while I add the finishing touches.”

Tony thought he might melt from the warmth flowing through him, as the three of them puttered around the kitchen, he and Bucky ferrying plates and cutlery and glasses and napkins to the table, Steve puttering away at the stove, the smells growing even more delicious, and then carrying the pot – which Tony could now see was as big as his entire torso – over to the table to dish out their portions before carting it back.

“So, tell me more about the suit,” Steve said, when they’d finally sat down and started to eat.

Before Tony had a chance to even open his mouth, slightly shocked but mostly thrilled that Steve was asking, Bucky interrupted. “Hold on, Stevie, let Tony at least appreciate your food first. Trust me, once he gets going he’ll forget all about eating. He would have kept us there all night if Pepper hadn’t had a meeting to get to.”

“Hey,” Tony exclaimed.

“Ya know it’s true, punk,” Bucky replied, poking him with one metal finger. Tony pouted. “Awww, don’t give me that face doll, I wasn’t complaining, I think it’s adorable, the way you get all passionate and enthusiastic about your work. I just didn’t want you missing out on eating while it’s hot.”

Tony’s pout melted away, and he could feel his cheeks heating up with a blush. He’d forgotten, in the time they’d been apart, how much of a mother hen Bucky could be. It surprised him every time, having someone care.

Steve chuckled, “Don’t worry, Tony, you can tell me about it later. Why don’t I tell you about this little old lady I saw on the subway this morning? She was dressed from head to toe in green and we got to talkin’ …”

The three of them chatted comfortably over their meal, Tony growing more and more relaxed and content – and full of Steve’s seriously delicious food. He’d missed them, while they’d been apart. He hadn’t actually realised how much. He was too used to being on his own. Was easily content (after years of looking in from the outside) with written messages and video calls – and had been too occupied by the suit (too consumed by it, really) to even notice how much he was depriving himself of. He might not feel completely alone, anymore, now that they knew he was theirs and kept in touch. But being with them now, in person, made him feel like he was … complete, again.

“I’m moving to New York,” he blurted out, interrupting Bucky’s story about Rocket dragging an entire potted plant in through the window, despite them not owning any plants, and making Steve and Bucky turn to him, mouths falling open and eyes wide. He went on before they could say anything – that it was too soon, too much, unnecessary, that they preferred to keep things long distance. “I have a mansion, in Manhattan. Well, I own it but I … haven’t really been back there in years. It was my parents’, and, I, uh, don’t exactly have a lot of happy memories there,” he explained, rushed words slowing down as he accidentally stumbled over a sore topic, but he didn’t keep anything a secret from them (not now that they knew about the suit, never again) so he went on, “But I think that, if you both wanted to, we could change that. I’d hate to think of it, just sitting there for the next few decades, even more empty and loveless than when my parents lived in it. Not when we could make it … make it a home.” He swallowed, suddenly aware that his soulmates were still gaping at him. “Uh, or, I could sell it, of course, buy something else. Wherever you want to live, I can make it happen. If you, uh, only if you wanted to, of course. I understand if it’s, you know, too soon, or if you don’t actually want me to-“

“Of course we want you to move in with us, Tony,” Steve said, thankfully cutting off Tony’s increasingly painful rambling. His shocked face had smoothed into something sweet and tender and hopeful, as he reached across the table for Tony’s hand.

“We just didn’t want to rush you,” Bucky added, reaching for Tony’s other hand with his flesh one. “We knew you had a lot on your plate. And we hardly expected you to leave your place in California! Not for us.”

Tony would have waved him off if he’d had access to his hands, but as they were both busy being held he settled for rolling his eyes. “Pfft, I’m not all that attached to it. I only moved there in the first place ‘cause I was sick of the cold after living in Boston for years. But I kind of miss being on the east coast, to be honest. So we’ll save it for vacations. I’d rather be here, where you are – I don’t have anything tying me to Malibu.”

“What about your bots? And your workshop? And Pepper and Rhodey?” Steve asked gently, doing that little concerned frown he did.

“They can all be moved,” Tony said with a shrug, “SI’s headquarters used to be here, that only changed because I wanted to live out west, but we can change it back. Might take a couple months for Pepper to make the arrangements, but I don’t have to be there for that.” He refocused on them, looking from one to the other, “Just have to know where we’ll be moving my things to?”

Steve and Bucky exchanged a look, then Steve squeezed his hand. “Well, you’ll have to show us this, uh, mansion before we can make any decisions.”

“Of course,” Tony agreed immediately, already feeling his heart swell.

“And in the meantime, you can stay here, with us,” Bucky added.

Tony blinked, then a slow smile spread across his face. “Really? I won’t get in the way?”

Bucky rolled his eyes, “Of course not, babe, geez, is that why it’s taken you this long to visit?”

“Well, that and the flying tin can I was building,” Tony quipped.

“Hmm, yes, that’s definitely a point in this mansion’s favour,” Bucky mused, running his fingers absently along the back of Tony’s hand. “Don’t think we can fit three suitsa armour and the three of us and that damn cat and its new pot plant friend in here. Let alone JARVIS and the bots.”

“I always wanted a pet growing up,” Tony said, “Liven the mansion up a bit.”

Bucky snorted, “Knock the place down, more like.”

“Awww, don’t be like that Buck,” Steve said, leaning down to press a kiss to Tony’s hand before standing up and starting to collect the dishes.

Bucky shrugged, standing up to help him, with Tony doing the same. “What can I say, Steve? The cat’s a terror. But he’s our little terror. Can’t say I expected to end up living in a mansion with two soulmates, a demon cat, three robots and an artificial intelligence for a butler, but now I can’t imagine my family any other way. So as long as the cat doesn’t bully the bots, he can stay.”

Steve reached around, a stack of plates held out awkwardly in his other hand, to wrap Bucky in a one-armed hug and kiss his temple. “I love you, punk.”

“Yeah, yeah, love you too, jerk,” Bucky replied, kissing his cheek and then grabbing the plates right out of his hand and making a beeline for the sink.

“I love you too, shellhead,” Steve said to Tony, who had frozen, swallowing around the lump in this throat when Bucky described them as a family. He unfroze now, crumpling up the dirty napkins he’d been collecting to throw at Steve’s head.

“Shellhead?” he asked, indignant, “See if I design you a suit now, with insults like that – tin man, shellhead, what am I a robot?”

Steve laughed, coming around the table and sweeping Tony into a hug, kissing the indignant rant right out of him. “I meant it as a term of endearment, obviously,” he said, grinning up at Tony, who mock scowled.

“Sure you did,” he argued, just so that Steve would cut him off again with a kiss.

“Hey, are you two gonna stand there canoodling or are you gonna help me with these dishes?” Bucky called out, over the sound of running water.

“Hmmmmm, let’s see,” Steve began.

“Canoodling, definitely,” Tony agreed, “Though who even says that.”

“Uh uh, nope, it was a rhetorical question! Get your butts over here.”

“What’s that? You want to touch my butt? That can be arranged,” Tony teased, grabbing the glasses while Steve picked up the scrunched up napkins, his chest warm and happy as Bucky’s grumbles were lost to the swish of water and suds, and Steve stole one last kiss from him as they made their way into the kitchen to help.

Tony could get used to this.

~

Epilogue

Tony couldn’t believe it had taken him this long to find out how well his soulmates scrubbed up.

Steve looked positively ravishing, the blue of his suit jacket making his eyes sparkle, and serving as a sharp contrast to the black lapels and bowtie. And the way he cut across the room, drawing all eyes to him despite his short stature was proof that he’d had no reason to panic earlier that evening that he’d look out of place next to Tony and Bucky’s effortless charm.

Bucky looked like he’d been born wearing a suit as much as Tony, his figure even more striking in this charcoal grey suit (with a subtle weave in the fabric reminiscent of the polished texture of his arm) than he had been in his army officer’s uniform (Tony had looked up pictures, after he’d met them and was allowed, and good lord). The five o’clock shadow and long hair pulled up in a slick bun, with a few strands of hair loose to frame his face, just added to the whole effect.

And Tony, honestly, hadn’t been able to take his eyes off either of them the whole evening. The bruise he had in his side from Pepper’s subtle elbow digs whenever his face would drift off elsewhere in the room was a testament to that.

He knew he was supposed to be charming the rich fogies, convincing them to donate huge sums to the newly founded Maria Stark Foundation – that was the entire point of hosting the Foundation’s inaugural annual ball in the Stark mansion’s ballroom. But being as close as humanly possible to his soulmates as it was polite to be in company seemed a far, far better use of his time.

“Just another ten minutes, Tony,” Pepper whispered, steering him towards the next (and hopefully last!) group.

But only five minutes into their incredibly dull conversation Pepper gasped, looking across the room with wide eyes and immediately excusing herself. Tony couldn’t even see what she’d seen – a couple of late arrivals maybe – but he seized upon the excuse she provided and followed, offering an apology over his shoulder without a second glance.

From the way she was stalking across the room with her Serious Business stride, Tony changed tactics from using the diversion to find Steve and Bucky to actually following Pepper, in case whatever this was was important, or dangerous.

She seemed to be making a beeline for a striking redheaded woman and a mild, non-descript sort of man. And they apparently anticipated this reaction, because they subtly made their way back out into the hallway so they could talk in more privacy.

“Miss Potts. Mister Stark,” the man greeted, reaching into his suit and pulling out a business card. “My name is Phil Coulson. I’m from an organisation known as SHIELD. We were hoping to set aside some time to debrief Misters Stark, Rogers and Barnes on the events that occurred in Staten Island last Tuesday.”

Tony froze. He and Steve and Bucky had stopped a bank robbery, last Tuesday, fighting off an incredibly unoriginal enhanced criminal calling himself Absorbing Man (because his skin absorbed and took on the properties of any material it came in contact with – like Tony said, incredibly unoriginal). It had been their first real use of the suits, after months of test flights and training and tweaks. And Tony had no idea how the fuck this Coulson guy knew to come straight back to them.

“Just have Miss Potts give us a call, to arrange a suitable time,” Coulson went on, mildly, holding out the business card to Pepper, who – wasn’t even looking at him?

“Natalie?” Pepper finally said, dragging her eyes away from the redhead to look at Coulson in confusion.

And oh, shit. Tony blinked, kicking himself for not recognising her straight away, even with the different hair. Tony had been returning Pepper’s years of gracious support by being the shoulder for her to cry on, for a change, when the mysterious Natalie Rushman had disappeared without a trace after Stane’s trial had ended. JARVIS had done some digging, on their behalf, but hadn’t even been able to find a trace of Rushman in the FBI, raising all kinds of questions that Tony had reluctantly told Pepper, on the condition that neither of them ever bring the matter up publicly in case it ever threw Stane’s verdict into doubt.

“Actually, it’s Natasha,” the redhead said. “Natasha Romanoff.” Tony was absolutely terrible at reading people’s emotions on their faces unless he knew them well, so it was saying something that even he could tell that the calmness with which she said it was only a façade.

“Agent Romanoff is one of our best agents,” Coulson explained, still with absolutely no expression (Tony wondered if he was an android, and vowed to find out everything he could about this SHIELD organisation, because no way did they have better tech than him). “She was on assignment for us, within the FBI, when she found evidence against Mr Stane and decided to bring it to your attention, Miss Potts.” The way his mouth quirked, just the tiniest bit, suggested that this hadn’t been part of her assignment.

Pepper’s jaw was clenched so hard Tony was worried she was actually biting her tongue. “I see,” she said, her own calmness a thin veneer over anger so sharp that Tony winced on the SHIELD agents’ behalf.

“Actually, I don’t think you do, yet,” Coulson replied. His gaze went to Natasha, whose expression was now unreadable to Tony. “Agent Romanoff requested the … assignment, to assist in the conviction of Stane, and also requested to accompany me this evening, to deliver my message to Mr Stark, so that she had an opportunity to see you, Miss Potts.”

Tony frowned, glancing over at Pepper to see her anger had momentarily been replaced by shock. “Excuse me?”

Natasha took a step forward, and Coulson stepped back, so that the two women stood facing each other. “I’m so sorry, ljubimaja, for rejecting you. Please believe me, it wasn’t my choice,” Natasha said, so much emotion bleeding into her voice that Tony suddenly realised he was intruding on something private.

“What?” Pepper breathed, eyes wide.

Quick as a flash, Natasha had a pen in her hand (though where she’d been keeping it in that dress Tony didn’t dare think about). She pressed the tip to the inside of her forearm, and scrawled two simple words.

Pepper gasped, hand shaking as she held her own forearm up. I’m sorry, appeared, in time with the movements of the pen in Natasha’s hand, her handwriting crisp and precise.

“I wasn’t sure, when we first met,” Natasha went on, voice low as she explained, “But the more time we spent together, I just … I knew it was you.”

Pepper’s lower lip trembled, and Tony finally tore himself away. He’d intruded enough. He surreptitiously made his way over to where Coulson was standing, in the doorway to the crowded hall, his back to the women.

“We want to work with you,” Coulson said to Tony, who frowned at him in confusion. “You and Rogers and Barnes. Our organisation works with … individuals like yourselves, to help protect people from threats they aren’t equipped to face. Like the Absorbing Man.” Then he turned to face Tony directly, meeting his eyes and holding out the card, “Think it over. Then give me a call.”

Tony reluctantly took the card from him, still not used to letting people hand him things, then glanced back over his shoulder when he heard the click of heels as Pepper and Natasha began making their way to the front doors.

“Pep?” he called out, wanting to make sure she was okay.

She turned back to him, tears in her eyes and grinning wider than he’d ever seen. “I’m taking the rest of the night off,” she said.

Tony looked over at Natasha and tried to look stern, “You’d better take good care of her,” he threatened. He didn’t care if she was some sort of super spy, he’d hunt her down and ruin her if she hurt his best friend any more than she already had.

Natasha’s face grew sombre and she nodded. “I will.”

“Good,” Tony replied, then turned back to Pepper and winked, “I guess you’ve found a plus one for the wedding after all.”

Pepper laughed, slightly wetly, and with disbelief and hope and so many familiar emotions warring on her face. Tony was so thrilled for her. “I guess I have,” she agreed, then tightened her hold on Natasha’s arm where it was looped through her own. “Goodnight, Tony.”

“Night, Pep.”

When he turned back to the doorway, Coulson had disappeared. Tony scowled, stashing the card inside his jacket pocket, and made his way back inside to his soulmates. They had a lot to discuss, but that could wait ‘til tomorrow. Right now, he had some exciting news to share.

He scanned the crowd, then lifted his watch up to his ear. “JARVIS, give me a location on Steve and Bucky?”

“My cameras showed them exiting to the balcony ten minutes ago, sir,” his AI’s voice emerged from the tiny speaker embedded in the watch band.

“Thanks, J.”

Tony snagged three flutes of champagne from a passing waiter and made a beeline for the balcony doors, not surprised that they’d finally needed to escape from the crowds. The night air was crisp as he shouldered his way out onto the balcony, drinks clutched precariously in his hands, and found his soulmates, standing together looking up at the stars (well, the little they could see from Manhattan).

“There you are,” Bucky said, glancing over Steve’s shoulder, “We were wonderin’ where you’d got to.”

Tony grinned. “I was just witness to a very magical moment,” he said, handing over their glasses and then taking a sip of his, “Pepper found her soulmate. Or should I say, Pepper’s soulmate finally turned up looking for her.”

“What?” Steve gasped, eyes straying past Tony as if he was going to get a glimpse of them through the window.

“I’d introduce you, but they left pretty much straight away. Which is fair enough, I bet they’ve got a lot to talk about.”

Bucky frowned, “They just turned up out of the blue? And she was okay with that, after all this time?”

Tony shrugged, “She’s some sort of super spy,” he explained, “We didn’t exactly talk, but it sounded like she didn’t have much of a say in the matter. Until recently. But I’m sure Pepper will get the whole story out of her.”

“Wow, that’s … I don’t know if that’s amazing, or sad,” Steve said, subconsciously unleashing the worried puppy dog eyes, “I guess maybe it just hits close to home, Pepper thinking she didn’t want her all this time, and her thinking she couldn’t be with Pepper.”

Tony swallowed, looking down at the polished stone below their feet, suddenly overwhelmed by the old wounds – they rarely came up, anymore, but when they did it was like a sucker punch to the gut.

“Hey,” Bucky said, reaching forward to pull him into a hug, careful of the glasses they were both still holding. “They’ll work it out. Just like we did. And whatever happens, we’ll be here for Pepper, whether she needs our shoulders to cry on, or we have another wedding to plan alongside our own.”

Tony buried his face into Bucky’s warm shoulder, breathing him in and grounding himself, reminding himself that there was nothing he could do about the past. It was over, and all he could do to make up for his mistakes was hold onto what he had with both hands.

Steve came around his other side, plucking the champagne from his hand and placing their glasses on the precarious edge of the balcony, then wrapping both hands around Bucky and Tony.

“I love you both so much,” Tony murmured, feeling warm and safe and so, so loved. He might have wasted years torturing himself, even before the Ten Rings got their hands on him, but he had so many more years with his soulmates to look forward that he knew the past didn’t matter any more.

All that mattered was what was right in front of him.