They’re… somewhere. Bucky’s traveled so much, seen so many places, that sometimes the cobblestone and wildflowers look the same. He knows Tony feels similar, can see it in the way he absently fingers bright orange petals.
But Peter. Peter, god. He graduated college and all he’d asked them was “Take me to your favorite place.”
Tony had waited until Peter was asleep, snoring between them, to ask, “Do you have a favorite?”
And Bucky looks at him, confused, as he always is. Tony flops back onto his pillow, one arm over his eyes. “This, here, is my favorite, but I don’t think it’s what he means.”
“Then we take him everywhere,” Bucky says quiet. Uncertain.
–
They do. Paris, where Peter dances under the Eiffel Tower at midnight and Buenos Aires where they sip coffee and laze about in the sun and Trinidad where Bucky burns and Iceland where Tony starves.
They take him so many places, but there’s a heaviness in his eyes they cant chase away. Not with museums or hickeys or any manner of delicacies.
Tony tries. In Uruguay they stay in a hut and they don’t leave. Bucky likes it, the quiet, the isolation. And Tony copes as long as he has his toys to tinker with. But Peter is silent, withdrawn. He gets up early and he wanders away from them, leaves Bucky and Tony to feed each other.
To warm each other. Tony kisses Bucky’s temple and he says, “We’ve taken him everywhere.”
Bucky answers, “Yet we’ve gone nowhere.”
–
They return to New York. To their home, their ridiculous bed. Their lab and their gym. Peter’s body is between them, his hands on them, but Peter isn’t with them.
Not really. They’re walking down the streets, supposedly to get dinner, but then Peter gets distracted. He walks through large glass doors, dark, despite the warm glow peaking through the red curtains.
Tony looks at Bucky who shrugs, but he does take the offered hand as they follow Peter in.
Their boy is looking at something, a sales clerk eying him cautiously. But she lifts the velvet box onto the counter and they can see the glinting, but they can’t hear the words.
Bucky sighs, wistful, unbidden and he can feel the curiosity in Tony’s stare. “You make me want things I can’t have,” he says.
Peter’s head whips around, startling all of them. He stalks towards his men, brown eyes on fire, and shoves a finger in Bucky’s chest. Tony goes to get between them, but Peter turns his hell fire on him. “Stay out of this Tony.”
He swivels back towards Bucky, and his chin wobbles just a moment. “You, James Buchanan Barnes, are the most selfish man I have ever met.”
Tony and Bucky both stare at him baffle.
“You do not get to decide how this works on your won,” Peter says, quiet. Desperate. “You could have this, but you refuse to accept it.”
And Bucky is… genuinely confused. Tony goes to say something, but Peter slaps his hand away. “You’re just as bad, refusing to talk about what you want. What you need. So busy trying to take care of us.”
Peter stalks away from them, towards a sales clerk who looks afraid but just as determined as she hands him something. A velvet bag.
Peter stomps over, slings it at them. “Selfish, the both of you. So afraid of hurting the ones you love, you can’t even see that you aren’t loving anyone. You’re denying me the chance at real, true happiness. I want this, want you. Both of you. I don’t” his voice wobbles. “I’ll walk away though. From everything, if it means you guys…”
Tony cups his jaw, while Bucky fumbles with the bag. Two simple bands in a dark metal fall into his palm. “If what, Peter?”
He sniffs, scrubs his hand across his face. “You don’t think we can all make it work, and apparently none of us are willing to make a choice so I am. I’m doing it, because I love you. Both of you. Too much.”
“And you don’t think this is just as a selfish?” Tony demands. Bucky doesn’t say anything immediately as he places a hand against Tony’s chest. Places one against Peter’s jaw.
“You really think we can have this, kid? We can make this work?” Tony turns ready to argue, but Bucky silences him with a kiss, and then he kisses Peter.
Peter nods. He reaches into his pocket and then shows them his palm, his own dark metal band. “Only if you two are willing to try.”
Tony says “Yes,” immediately and enthusiastically, and he turns to stare at Bucky. “You want things. You think you can’t have them, but the only thing in your way? You.”
His hands tremble, but he picks up one of the bands and he fits it on his finger, and it’s perfect.
–
They can’t put what they have, what they are on paper. Not exactly. But everyone knows.