Chapter Text
He had to tell them.
The realization was like a heavy weight on his chest when Tony opened his eyes. He hadn’t slept well, instead tossing and turning. His headache hadn’t gone away, and he didn’t think it would be going away anytime soon. Bond Fatigue. Or maybe even the beginning stages of Bond Rejection, though he sincerely hoped it hadn’t gotten that far. Either way, Natasha was right.
Not that he would ever tell her that. Natasha would hold it over his head for the rest of forever.
He meant what he’d said to Natasha: their pity would be worse than death. It went against pretty much every rule Tony had ever put in place for himself to be honest about this. And in spite of what Natasha had said, he knew she wouldn’t betray his trust by telling Steve and Bucky. Frankly, if it were truly just about him, Tony would gladly go to his death without saying a word.
But it wasn’t just about him. There were people depending on him. He was a part of a team now. Tony wasn’t so full of himself as to think that the Avengers wouldn’t be able to carry on without him, but he also wasn’t stupid enough to think that the team wouldn’t struggle. He provided a lot of support to the Avengers, whether it be financial, with continuous weapon and armor upgrades, or by handling the press and the government. They could continue without him, but it would make their lives a hell of a lot harder.
It was with that thought in mind that Tony dragged himself out of bed and took a shower so hot that it left his skin prickling. No one had ever told him how hard it would be to decide between two different ways to destroy yourself. His pride would suffer this way, but at least he would be able to continue on in his role as Iron Man for a while. Unless Steve and Bucky were so disgusted they kicked him off the team. He tried not to think about that.
“I must be crazy,” he muttered, staring into the mirror as he dried himself off. He could see where Natasha’s concern was coming from. He didn’t look good. There were deep bags under his eyes, he was pale and he was starting to get thin. He’d have Rhodey on his ass if he didn’t fix something soon.
Damn biology. Damn genetics. Why did Tony have to be born a guide? Why couldn’t he have been baseline, or better yet a sentinel? Howard would’ve loved that. Maybe then Tony wouldn’t have spent the vast majority of his life feeling like he was disappointing his father in everything that he did. It also would’ve meant a hell of a lot less work: people universally didn’t think as well of guides as they did of sentinels, and there was always that extra barrier to work through because of that.
If he were a sentinel, he’d have no problem continuing on as things were. It was guides who suffered more because of a soul bond. He had to wonder if Steve and Bucky every stopped to think about why Tony meshed so well with them, or if they assumed that Tony was just particularly competent at what he did. Considering Tony had never really used his guide abilities before he met them, the latter would be dead wrong.
He sighed heavily and threw his towel in the hamper. "What do you think?" he asked, turning to his partner.
His fox stared back in silence with an expression that spoke volumes. Tony made a face.
"No need to be so judgmental," he mumbled, leaving the bathroom to get dressed. “J, where are our resident supersoldiers?”
“In the gym, Sir. Captain Rogers appears to be doing his best to destroy the new set of punching bags you developed.”
Tony smirked at that, pulling his jeans up. He paused before fastening them, looking at the mark on his hip. The black star was about the size of Tony’s palm, with pale blue and violet forget-me-nots twining around it. The little flowers looked so real that, when Tony was a little kid, he’d actually thought that the flowers were real and that someone had injected flowers into his skin.
Over the years, he’d alternately loved and hated the mark, depending on how he was feeling about Steve and Bucky. The mark had certainly been cause for torment in Howard’s eyes, because the incredible sentinel abilities of Captain America had been written about in every damn history book there was. Slightly lesser known, but just as obvious to anyone who cared to look, were the sentinel abilities of Bucky Barnes. Tony having their mark meant he was their guide, and Howard hadn’t liked that.
There would be no telling them that he was their guide without having them realize he was their soul mate. It just didn’t work that way.
“Fuck my life,” Tony said under his breath, fastening his jeans. He yanked a t-shirt on and left the bathroom, taking the elevator down to the gym.
He was just in time to see Steve bring his arm back and then let it fly with a direct punch into the center of the bag. Tony’s jaw dropped as the bag made what could only be described as a tear of pure defeat and then broke in half, one portion flying halfway across the room. The other half fell to the ground at Steve’s feet. All three men stared at it in silence for a moment. Tony barely even registered his fox sprinting over to Bucky's deer and Steve's wolf; the three animals twined around each other happily.
Then Bucky, grinning, said, “Good show, Stevie.”
“Good show?!” Tony repeated furiously. Both of them jumped and spun around to face him. Tony pointed a finger in Steve’s face. “You little shit! I knew you deliberately tried to destroy these! Do you know how much work I put into trying to make punching bags for you?!”
“Busted,” Bucky sang.
“And you! You’re no better! It’s not a game!” Tony said, rounding on Bucky. It was gratifying to see the way that Bucky shrank back.
“Tony, I’m sorry,” Steve said, warm hands landing on Tony’s shoulders. “I got carried away.”
Tony huffed. “Stop trying to destroy my creations,” he said, his ire already fading away at the contact between them. It was a reminder of the news he was about to spill. He squeezed his eyes shut, taking a steadying breath, then straightened up and moved away from Steve.
“You like it when we destroy stuff, ‘cause then you get to remake it,” Bucky pointed out.
“That’s neither here nor there,” Tony said, frowning at them. “Look… I have something I need to tell you.”
“What?” Steve asked, his smile switching to a concerned frown when he registered the seriousness of Tony’s voice.
For months now, Tony had been going over this exact moment in his brain. He could pretend that it wasn’t coming, but deep in his heart he’d known that it was inevitable. During a few moments of clarity, he’d been trying to think about the right words to use. But now that he was actually faced with Steve and Bucky, all those carefully prepared words had fled and left him speechless.
Finally, in lieu of anything better to say, he pulled his shirt up and the waistband of his jeans down to show them the mark on his hip. There was a pause as both men registered what they were looking at; Tony caught a glimpse of their identical expressions of shock before he looked away, unable to bear whatever might come next. Pity? Sympathy? Anger? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
At least by now, they knew him well enough to know that this would be the real thing. When you were a celebrity who had shared your mark, you were always at risk from fans tattooing a soul mark on themselves and trying to pass it off as real. Tony had heard about that happening several times. It was one of many reasons why he’d kept his mark a secret over the years. Unfortunately for Steve and Bucky, the information about their soul mark had been leaked a long time ago.
“Tony?” Bucky whispered. “Is that… you’re – you’re a guide. So –”
“Tony, you’re our guide?”
Hearing the emphasis Steve put on the word ‘our’, Tony slowly turned his head to face them. But he kept his eyes on their feet. “Well… yes. I am. There’s a reason why I can do everything I can do for you. I’m not just good at being a guide. Actually, I suck on it. My old mentor used to tell me she felt bad for whatever sentinels ended up with me.” He smiled faintly.
“What?! That’s horrible!” Bucky exclaimed. “You’re a great guide!”
Surprised, Tony looked up. “She was just joking, Bucky. Ana never would have…” He trailed off as he took in the twin smiles facing him. “Um, guys –” He yelped as Bucky lunged forward, scooping Tony up in a hug that literally took Tony’s feet off the ground.
“You’re our guide!” Bucky cried, spinning Tony around in a circle. Tony would’ve squeaked had he been able to draw in the breath to do, but Bucky’s arms were squeezing him too tightly. All he could do was wrap his arms around Bucky’s shoulders and hold on for dear life.
“I can’t believe it,” Steve said. “I… I thought that after I crashed that plane, we’d never find our guide. I thought for sure that we missed our chance, and that were you were long dead.” Tony caught a glimpse of his face as Bucky spun them around again, and his heart skipped a beat when he saw the way Steve’s blue eyes were glowing.
“Gonna die soon,” Tony managed to wheeze out.
“Buck, he can’t breathe.” Fingers pried at Bucky’s hands, and moments later Tony’s feet impacted the floor. He drew in a deep, grateful breath and had about fifteen seconds to look from Bucky’s sheepish expression to Steve’s ear-to-earn grin before he was hauled into another hug, this time with two sets of arms wrapped around him – though this time, fortunately, with significantly less strength.
“You’re much happier about this than I thought you’d be,” Tony said around a mouthful of Bucky’s hair, which he quickly spit out.
“Of course we’re happy!” Steve exclaimed. “Why wouldn’t we be? Why didn’t you tell us sooner? Wait.” He suddenly pushed Tony back, face falling. “Tony, you’ve been acting as our guide all this time. That had to be – why the hell didn’t you tell us?!”
“Does it matter?” Tony asked, grateful that Bucky left an arm around his waist to steady him. It was too hard to go from joy to accusation in thirty seconds flat.
“Yes it matters! When I think about how much of a strain that must’ve put on you –” Steve looked like he wanted to tear his hair out.
“It was my choice, Steve,” Tony pointed out.
“But it must’ve been bad if you’re telling us now,” Bucky said softly. “I could tell something seemed off earlier. Are you okay, Tony?”
In the face of Bucky’s earnest concern, Tony crumbled. “I – no, not really. I can’t keep sustaining you the way that I have. It’s too much for me.” He wouldn’t go into detail about the headaches or the exhaustion, but he was sure they were filling in the blanks. “We either need to bond, or you’ll have to find someone else to act as your guide.” He hated to even add in that second option, but it had to be done.
“We’ll bond, of course,” Bucky said. “Why wouldn’t we?”
“Well…” Tony said.
“Tony, why wouldn’t we?” Steve said, narrowing his eyes.
“You guys have been together for years. You’re in love and everything. It might prove disruptive to your bond to open it now, especially since… you know, you’re not dating me,” Tony said, aiming for nonchalant and missing by a mile. Despite how hard he was trying to not give anything away, he had the feeling that Steve and Bucky could read him like a book. There was a certain amount of science backing him up here; bonds could get skewed if the emotions between two partners were stronger, but that didn’t explain the want that Tony couldn’t quite hide.
He stared at the floor again like it was a complicated scientific equation, desperately trying to ignore the way Bucky and Steve were looking at each other. They were, he suspected, doing that thing where they were having a whole conversation with merely their eyes. They must have come to some sort of conclusion, because Bucky’s hand moved until his palm was covering Tony’s soul mark. Tony had to muffle his gasp of surprise at the tingling sensation that rushed through him at the touch.
“A date,” said Steve.
“What?” Tony said, slightly shaken. He’d known that he would feel something, but not that. What would it feel like when – no, if they bonded?
“Let us take you out on a date,” Steve repeated.
“Steve, no. I don’t want a pity date.”
“It’s not a pity date,” Bucky said, so vehemently that Tony stopped in surprise. “I want you. Stevie does too. This just cements it.”
“Think of it as a ‘we’ll see how we mesh’ date,” Steve suggested, taking Tony’s hand. “And in the meantime, we won’t ask you to be a guide for us. Not until we can bond. And we will be bonding,” he added, cutting off anything Tony could say. “You need it, and so do Bucky and I. We’ll figure out how to make this work, Tony, but that’s not up for discussion.”
Bucky nodded. “A bond will be good for all of us, baby doll. You know that.”
“I hate when you’re both right,” Tony mock-grumbled. A date. He still wasn’t convinced that it wasn’t a pity date, but it couldn’t hurt to go. If things didn’t work out, it would be hard to bond and know he wasn’t a part of how much Bucky and Steve loved each other. But then, maybe they could love him too – even if it wasn’t romantically. He wouldn’t know unless he agreed to give it a try. They had to do something, because Steve was right: they needed this.
He glanced up, taking in the twin sets of puppy eyes, then looked over at their partners. Gold, black and white were so intertwined Tony could barely tell where on ended and another began. His fox looked back, calm and at peace. Tony smiled slightly. “Yeah, okay. A date.”