Work Text:
“Rhodey, he’s looking at me again,” Tony smacked his friend’s arm, possibly harder than necessary. Across the bar, a man with brown hair and what looked like a metal arm sipped his drink, casting intent glances at Tony. “What do I do?”
Rhodey glared at him. “Talk to him?” he suggested sarcastically. “Like the normal human being you pretend to be?”
“But he’s very, very hot,” Tony whined, flapping a hand. “You know how I get in front of hot people.”
“He clearly thinks you’re hot, too,” Rhodey said. “If the way he’s staring is any indication. Just go talk to him, or something. Buy him a drink.”
“What if he’s staring at me because he’s an axe murderer and has chosen me to be his next victim?” Tony countered, narrowing his eyes. “Are you advising me to chat up an axe murderer, Rhodey?”
Rhodey rolled his eyes. “Hey, you! With the brown hair!” he called, getting the man’s attention.
“ Rhodey, no! ” Tony hissed, but it was too late.
“My friend wants to know if you’re an axe murderer!” Rhodey finished smugly.
A confused look crossed the man’s unfairly attractive face. He walked over to their table, brushing his long hair out of his eyes. Tony let out a small eep! of distress at the man’s murder strut. “I’m going to have to go with no,” he said, coming close enough that Tony could smell his aftershave. “Why do you ask?”
“Just making sure,” Rhodey said flippantly. He stood, offering the man his seat. “Tony here couldn’t decide if you were checking him out or planning his murder. Out of curiosity, it is the first one, right?”
The man looked Tony up and down. “Definitely the first one,” he agreed.
Tony knew his face was on fire. “Rhodey,” he said calmly. “I’m actually going to kill you.”
“Later,” Rhodey patted his shoulder and walked off. He shot Tony a thumbs up and a shit-eating grin. “Use protection!”
“Hi, I’m Bucky Barnes,” the man introduced himself. He clearly wasn’t immune to Rhodey’s special brand of wingmanning, if the faint flush on his cheeks was any indication.
“Tony,” said Tony, taking a long sip of his drink to try to get his blush to go down. “So, how’d you end up with a name like Bucky? No offense, but it sounds like a cowboy’s name. Are you a cowboy?”
He almost smacked himself. No one had ever accused him of having tact or being a good conversationalist. Tony was going to kill Rhodey.
Luckily, Bucky didn’t seem too offended. “Would you believe that the alternative is worse?” he laughed a little. “It’s a nickname; my middle name’s Buchanan.”
“Like the president?” Tony wrinkled his nose.
Bucky shrugged. “Like the president,” he confirmed. “My parents were history buffs. Me, I’m more of a mechanics kind of guy.”
Tony sat up with interest. “Me, too,” he admitted. “Any kind of engineering, really.”
“Do you do cars?” asked Bucky, leaning forward. “I work in a garage.”
“Engines are a special love of mine,” Tony gushed. He tried to sound suave, but he was pretty sure he just looked like the massive nerd that he was. “Buy me a drink and I’ll tell you all about it?” He hoped that he was reading the situation right and that Bucky hadn’t lied about the whole murder thing.
Bucky smirked. Tony was glad he was already sitting down; his knees felt a little wobbly at the sight. “Of course, doll,” he said. “I was gonna buy you one anyway. This is just an added bonus.”
“Careful what you wish for,” Tony warned, grinning. “Once I get talking, I never shut up.”
“That’s okay,” Bucky winked. “I think it’s cute. Besides, I can think of a few ways to shut you up that I think you'll enjoy.”
Tony lost the battle against his blush. Looking at Bucky, though, he wasn’t sure he cared.
---
When Tony walked back to the dorms the next morning with several hickies, a limp, and a phone number scribbled on his arm, Rhodey gave himself a pat on the back for being the best wingman.
(Later, when Tony and Bucky officially started dating, he told the “are you an axe murderer?” story to every single one of their friends. Tony filled his pillowcase with whipped cream in retaliation, but it was totally worth it.)