Tony was used to seeing shades of grey, his whole life was a series of them. And sure, he means that literally and hypothetically. Everyone sees grey until they meet their soulmate (Tony is only slightly bitter over that), so it isn't a surprise his life is pretty monochromatic. He's gotten used to the idea that it'll always be this way. Besides, his childhood filled with harsh language, raging disappointment and more empty bottles than Tony could count only added to the overwhelming bleakness of it all. Surely, no one could blame him for feeling positively dreary all the time.
Tony tried for a long time to stay hopeful, truly, he did. He lived his life as normal— he went out, laughed, took on the burden of a multi-million dollar company and tried not to be the miserable disappointment his father always told him he was. And it seemed to be working because he met Pepper.
He was sure— absolutely positive— that Pepper was his soulmate. Tony might not have been able to see color but he didn't miss the way her smile sent a ray of heat though his chest or the way her eyes completely sparkled during the day. Maybe the color took a little while to appear? Maybe he needed to spend a lot of time with Pepper before he could see clearly? But as time went on, that hope dwindled just the same. They tried to hold on to whatever fake love they could for awhile, but a person can only lie to themselves for so long. So just like everyone else, Pepper let Tony go.
And that was just fine. Stark men are made of iron and Tony knew how to survive alone.
He managed to forget about his soulmate, or lack thereof, when the team moved into the tower. Sure, the world was still a series of grey but at least his life wasn't boring.
Sometimes, when nobody was watching, Natasha would sneak down into the lab to help Tony with the colors of his suit, or his cars, or anything else that would otherwise just seem grey, grey, grey. Maroon or red, she said for the suit. It compliments your dark hair.
And, though he'd never admit it, that's the first time Tony found out he had brown hair.
- - - - - -
The first color Tony saw was blue. It was the color blue Tony imagined water to look like; not too bright but with sparkles of light swimming in the center. Admittedly, he thought his mind was playing tricks on him. He was getting older and this soulmate business wasn't funny anymore, so if his mind could get the memo and just give up, that'd be great.
But then he saw brown. And he had heard Natasha and Clint speak wonders of the soft color of chocolate or the rich image of his morning coffee, but never did he imagine it to fall so effortlessly in small waves on someone's head. Brown was warm and smooth and comforting all at the same time, and Tony might be a genius but his mind was struggling to piece it all together.
All of the colors seemed to rush in at once after those first two. He was suddenly aware of the bright red of Nat's hair and the shiny white of Steve's teeth as though he'd been able to see them all along, really. He wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all; because had he really been missing color the whole time when it was right here but he couldn't bring a smile to cross his lips.
Because apparently seeing color came with the burden of his soulmate, one that teased him with cool blue eyes and chocolate brown hair. It seemed his life wanted to keep fucking with him because James Buchanan Barnes was his soulmate and suddenly Tony wasn't sure if he should thank him or punch him in the face.
- - - - - -
Tony decided on his favorite color one day when Bucky came into the lab. He was wearing a black shirt and sweatpants but his hair was still that perfect mix of tousled brown that made Tony's stomach flip.
"Stevie said I could find ya down here." It's not the first time they've ever spoken, no, but it's the first time they've spoken alone. Tony finds himself glad that he doesn't mention their connection, he wants to ignore it for as long as possible.
"Five days a week, ten hours a day. Typically I require a two weeks notice on drop in appointments, but I'll make an exception," Tony forces a smirk on his lips, turning in his chair to look at Bucky fully. "What can I do for you, Barnes?"
Bucky shifts awkwardly on his feet and Tony frowns at how freaking adorable he looks. How is that fair? The man is an assassin and he looks adorable! Nope. No.
"I- uhm," he swallows, takes a breath, and puts on an emotionless expression. Tony is actually quite impressed by the soldier's ability to be so nonchalant. "Stevie said ya wouldn't mind takin' a look at my arm."
At that, Bucky raises the metal arm with a a shrug and Tony has to fight the urge to pounce on him like he's a piece of meat. Tony does in fact want to take a look at the arm, he'd like to dissect it actually and put it back together, see how the nerve-endings connect and where the metal fuses with skin. But he'll silence his inner-scientist in favor of Bucky's comfort— for now.
"Oh, you'll regret offering it up, snowflake," Tony grins and motions to a workbench for Bucky to sit on which the soldier does if a bit hesitantly. It takes no more than thirty seconds for Tony to have a significant collection of tools at his disposal, a light shining on Bucky's arm, and music playing in the background. "So what seems to be the problem?"
Bucky blinks almost as though he's trying to see if Tony is actually going to do this now, but when he finds nothing other than sincerity and eagerness in the warm coffee brown eyes he sighs in defeat.
"It's lost a bit of mobility," Bucky shrugs but Tony just frowns.
"And?"
"It hurts."
"Don't worry, sugarplum, we'll fix it," Tony gives him a soft smile, patting his human arm gently and secretly reveling in the feeling of Bucky's skin on his. "At the very least, I'll fix your mobility problem and draw up schematics for a new arm within the next few days."
"New arm?" It's Bucky's turn to frown as he shakes his head insistently. "You don't have to do that. This old thing works well enough."
"Of course I have to," Tony rolls his eyes already flicking through the holograms that JARVIS helpfully pulled up. "If not for you then for me. I hate having to look at tech that could be improved, makes me nauseous."
Bucky doesn't comment even though he has a sneaking suspicion Tony isn't really lying. And so he lets the genius work peacefully, the only sounds being the music, tools, and Tony's incoherent mumbling.
Tony wishes it were easier. Not improving Bucky's arm— no, that's the easy part— but simply being around the ex-assassin. He can practically feel how wired he is just due to the proximity of Bucky. Every time Tony's hand accidentally— yes accidentally, he's totally not doing it on purpose— brushes against the skin of Bucky's shoulder, a wave of pleasure shoots up his spine. It's like Tony's body is in overdrive responding to the sensations Bucky is giving off; he's never felt anything like it.
To put it simply, Bucky's skin, his touch, his fucking smell— which Tony is pleased to say is a combination of gunpowder, cologne and something perfectly earthy— is intoxicating. Tony is sure, under different circumstances, he could get lost in the way it makes him feel. But he can't.
"I'm sorry."
Bucky's sudden desire to speak, let alone apologize, makes Tony stop the wire he's fixing in the arm. Startled, he meets the pain-filled ocean eyes of one conflicted super-soldier.
"I'm sorry it had to be me."
And damn does Tony wish he would have never looked into those eyes which, if he's being honest, make him feel a bit like he's plunging into the ice cold ocean without so much as a life jacket. And, sure, Tony's been waterboarded before but this feels a bit more like falling, no, sinking into a pleasant sea of blue-grey with nothing to catch him let alone stop him from just taking the dive.
Because if he would've never looked, he would have never seen the raw emotions dancing through the piercing blue. He would have never known that specific color— Bucky's color of blue— and would have never have found himself mesmerized by it. Because if he wouldn't have looked, it wouldn't have become his favorite shade to stare it.
"I'm sorry too."
And he is sorry. Genuinely, truly, hopelessly sorry for the life they could have had together had Tony been born to different parents. Had Bucky never fallen victim to HYDRA. Had they both not seen and done things that changed them for the absolute worse.
But mostly he's sorry that he loves that blue. Maybe a little too much. And he can't tell Bucky that.
So they go back to not talking once again.
- - - - - -
"I want to take you out."
"Like on a date or with violence because I could be good with both."
Barnes' direct approach, believe it or not, doesn't take Tony by surprise. It's been a month since their first encounter and three weeks since Tony updated Bucky's arm and the two have been dancing around each other with not-so-subtle flirty comments and longing looks ever since.
As Clint put it, it's absolutely sickening, please, god, get a damn room.
Other than Clint and Steve, everyone else had taken the soulmate news pretty well. Not that Tony and Bucky hadn't found themselves in the middle of some unnerving jokes on their behalf, of course.
"I'm skilled at both, but I was goin' for the first one," Bucky shrugs, stalking over to Tony like a man on a mission.
"You know we can't-"
"And why not?" Bucky cuts Tony off by crossing two unfairly large arms over his equally distracting chest with a frown. "M' trying to understand why you don't wanna give this a shot. First I thought it was the Winter Soldier, now I'm thinkin' it's something else."
Brooklyn drawl. Also unfair.
"I don't do relationships, Barnes. And need I remind you that since you haven't had one since the 40s, neither do you."
Deflecting, that's all he's doing. Tony can't bring himself to look Bucky in the eyes, won't let himself go there because he knows he'll cave. One glance at those deep wells of blue and he's gone every time. It's not that he doesn't want to be with Bucky because boy does he want to, he was made to for crying out loud! But what good can come of pairing the Merchant of Death with one of the deadliest assassins of all time? They'll destroy everything. They'll destroy each other.
"If you don't wanna see where this goes then say so but don't tell me that I don't want this," Bucky frowns, voice low but not menacing. He isn't trying to scare Tony, he isn't trying to force him into anything, he's offering, waiting, hoping. "I like you, Tony. And not just because of the soulmate thing, that's an added bonus."
"No, you don't," Tony shakes his head frantically taking stumbled steps back away from Bucky as though he'd wounded him. Maybe he did. "You don't know what you're saying, Barnes. You don't know what you're asking for."
The you don't know what you're getting into and leave before you regret it are silent, but Bucky can practically read the words in Tony's eyes.
"I'm not asking for anything," Bucky sighs sadly at Tony's inability to believe that not everyone wants something from him. "I don't want anything from ya, darling, except maybe some of your time."
"My time?" Tony echoes looking a little disbelieving but he's stopped trying to run away so Bucky takes it as a win.
"Yeah," Bucky nods, a smile smile on his lips as he takes a few steps closer. "Just wanna spend time with ya, sweetheart. Get to know you better, take ya out on dates-" Bucky emphasizes with a fond eye roll. "-treat you right, the way you deserve. Does that sound so bad?"
It sounds far from bad.
"No," Tony admits with a small smile that instantly falls off his lips at his next thought. "We'll ruin each other."
"Maybe," Bucky shrugs casually as if it's the least important thing in the world. "Or maybe we won't."
"We have to fight, we're heroes it's what we do," Tony shakes his head again, tiredness and exasperation creeping into his voice. "One of us can die at any given moment, you know that, right? Do you really want to chance that?"
"I do," Bucky grins like he just won the lottery and Tony sighs, defeated.
"Fine," Tony huffs but can't fight the way his lips threaten to quirk up. "Call it mutually-assured destruction, then."
- - - - - -
The first color Tony loses is blue. He guesses it's only fitting that his favorite, his first, is the one that hurts the most. Nebula's skin is nothing but pale grey where there used to be a brilliant, intricate shade of teal. He feels the loss of color like one feels their own heartbeat. It's like a cord that was keeping him grounded, safe, has disappeared.
The next color he loses is red. The armor looks bland against the rapidly greying ground of Titan, nothing but colorless metal that is meant to protect him but Tony supposes nothing could have saved him from this.
It's not any better knowing what happened. He finds himself wondering what went first: the beautiful brown of his hair? Did the shining metal of his arm disappear too? And what of those ocean eyes that always seemed to look down at him with the utmost adoration, of complete happiness? Tony thinks it hurts the most knowing a man like that was inevitably reduced to a pile of dust.
He tried. He tried warning him, tried to tell him that they'd ruin each other. That one day they'd die and that would be the end. And all that bastard did was flash him a stupid white-toothed grin and Tony caved like a fucking molten lava cake. Truth be told, he always thought it'd be him going out in a blaze of glory, being all sacrificial and what-not. Tony gave the world every opportunity to take him, but it chose Bucky instead.
Bucky the 100 year old dork who forced him into his lap on movies nights, who braided small strands of Tony's short hair when he was bored, who made the best fucking cookies Tony had ever tasted, who denied that he's scared of birds and fell subject to Clint's mockery for a week. Bucky who he loved.
Tony had been right, mutually-assured destruction, indeed. Because he's pretty sure he'll never be whole again.
Tony was used to seeing shades of grey, his whole life was a series of them. Except James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky Barnes was a burst of color, of life, of hope. Tony wasn't half as good a man as he was when he was next to Bucky. And maybe it's best that he can only see grey now that Bucky's gone because he doesn't want to admit that he'll never see his favorite shade of blue ever again.
Because Tony was also wrong. Stark men aren't made of iron and he can't survive on his own.