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Language:
English
Series:
Part 2 of Revolving Doors
Stats:
Published:
2020-09-11
Completed:
2021-03-29
Words:
85,970
Chapters:
24/24
Comments:
259
Kudos:
417
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98
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18,391

Another Door Opens

Summary:

When Sergeant Bucky Barnes hooked up with Peter Parker, he knew instantly that he wanted more, there was something about the man that he couldn’t get enough of. But he never imagined that Peter was married to none other than Tony Stark, one of the richest men in the world. And when the billionaire asked to meet him and made a life altering proposition, it left Bucky’s head reeling. Could he really agree to what Tony just offered him? He wasn’t sure. What he was sure of was that there’s something about Tony, too, something that pulled him in. Could he really be developing feelings for both of them? Bucky didn’t know. But he did know that both men were keeping something from him, something big. Bucky just hoped it wasn’t big enough to keep them apart.

OR

Bucky slept with Peter, then Bucky found out Peter was married, then Peter’s husband, Tony, wanted to meet Bucky, then Tony asked Bucky to date his husband, then Bucky started dating Peter for real, then Bucky got a crush on Tony, then there was all kinds of sexual tension, then there was a big secret, then there was a stalker, and… How does it all end?!

 

*****Part 1 of Revolving Doors series not required reading.*****

Notes:

Do you ever think about how truly messed up comic book characters would be if they existed in the real world? If they'd gone through all that shit and not had super powers to save them? Well, I do. And that's what led to this story. Tony and Peter will be a little grittier and darker because they've gone through a whole hell of a lot to get to where they are. And, as for Bucky, well, he's just a little bit softer because that's what happens when you aren't kidnapped, tortured, and brainwashed by Nazi madmen. But he's still got that metal arm cuz it's sexy as hell.

No one will be OOC, they'll just have slightly different edges. Character back stories will unfold as the story moves forward, but if you have any questions, leave a comment for more info.

I have a pretty thorough outline of this story and where it's going, but I'm not certain how long it will be yet. Fair warning: it will be at least 20k words, probably more.

Anything else you want to know about this world, just ask. I love interacting in the comments. Just keep it kind and constructive, this is only my second work ever, and I ain't got time for assholes. :)

PS You won't need to read part 1 of the series for this to make sense, but it is some fun smut, so feel free to take a gander.

Chapter 1

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Walking through the door impatiently, Sergeant Bucky Barnes looks around the small, windowless, nondescript, grey room that's supposed to pass as a two person office at the headquarters of his new international inter-agency anti-terrorism taskforce, SHIELD.  Every branch of the US military, all the federal agencies, Interpol, Scotland Yard, MI6, CIA -- pretty much the whole alphabet soup of military and law enforcement agencies across the globe -- had come together to form the Safety in Harmony International Enforcement of Law and Defense, and Bucky and his best friend, Captain Steve Rogers, had been assigned as the Army liaisons; Bucky for his expertise on Eastern Europe, and Steve for his diplomatic acumen.

 

The sergeant looks at his watch again in frustration before plopping down on the uncomfortable grey couch with a heavy sigh.  There's supposed to be a briefing in half an hour with taskforce Director Fury and Steve is running late.  They need to go over some things beforehand because Fury is not someone to trifle with and Bucky has felt off his game for days now.  Ever since the booty call of a lifetime three days ago.  

 

Laying back and slinging his feet over the armrest, Bucky can’t seem to keep his thoughts on work or the upcoming briefing.  His mind, of its own accord, keeps wandering back.  ... Fuck, Bucky groans, you feel so fucking good...  

 

He unconsciously shifts a little, metal arm coming down to adjust himself as his entire body starts reacting to his idle recollection.  ...You like that, doll?  Me punishing your filthy hole?...

 

“Shit,” Bucky mutters, sitting up.  This isn't his first rodeo, he better get it together before Little Bucky gets anymore wrapped up in those memories and makes a lot bigger problem than being unprepared for a briefing.

 

It's true, the man is no stranger to a one night stand, and usually has no problem with a little ‘love ‘em and leave ‘em.’  But this guy was different, ever since they’d first met Bucky couldn’t get Peter Parker off of his head.  Who’d have thought getting stuck doing the wash at a random laundromat in Queens could lead to meeting the twink of your dreams...?




 

Barnes was not amused.  Not amused at the snow that just started falling outside.  Not amused to still be sleeping on an old Army buddies couch because he hadn’t been able to find a place he could afford.  Not amused that said buddy lived in Queens.  Queens.  And certainly not amused that there was no laundry in his building.  

 

So he stood there, wearing his best scowl, glaring out the front window when someone opened the door and a strong gust of arctic January wind blew it out of their hold and directly into Bucky’s side.  His initial reaction was to be even more pissed but, before he could react, the guy was already apologizing.  

 

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” the soldier heard from somewhere in the vicinity of his ankles.  The offending door-opener’s basket had been tipped out of his hand by the wind and he was stooped to collect the stray contents.

 

“It’s all good,” Bucky begrudgingly replied.  Like it or not, he'd been raised with good Midwestern manners, so he bent down to give the guy a hand.  “Here, let me help you with that.”

 

“Thanks,” Door Guy responded.  He finally looked up and Bucky found himself completely taken aback by just how beautiful the young man was -- high cheekbones, big, warm, expressive brown eyes, full lips.  Damn.  This guy was a walking wet dream.  The soldier may have shared a little longer than was strictly necessary, but upon looking directly at the Sergeant, the guy seemed a little shocked and stared right back.  

 

They awkwardly looked at each other for a long moment before the young man blurted out, “Oh my god, it’s you.  You’re the Time magazine guy!”

 

Oh shit, Barnes thought, feeling his cheeks heat.  This had happened to him several times now and it never got less uncomfortable.

 

From the tender age of eight, Bucky had been fully aware that he was one-hundred percent gay -- his sexual orientation realized thanks to his rabid obsession with Joey Lawrence.  The hair, the artfully ripped jeans, the flannel shirt tied around that trim waist, the leather jacket… Bucky couldn’t get enough.  Whenever his show, Blossom, came on TV was the only time Bucky and his sister didn’t fight over the remote.  Neither one realizing the weekly truce was so they could both sit and stare at the same onscreen hunk and swoon.  But despite that early realization, Bucky had spent his entire life -- and most certainly career -- firmly in the closet, with only a select few in the entire world knowing the truth of his sexuality.  So, when Don’t-Ask-Don’t-Tell was repealed last September, he saw it as his chance to finally live out loud.  Being Special Forces made Bucky just high profile enough that when Time decided to do a piece on the repeal he was contacted, really hit it off with the interviewer, and next thing he knew, he was at a photoshoot in full uniform with a rainbow flag draped over his shoulders and ended up coming out on the cover of one of the biggest magazines in the world.

 

He’d taken more than a little heat from the higher-up’s about the article, and plenty of flack from the guys about it, too.  He’d also been recognized a few times by people on the street.  Some bigoted idiots telling him he was going to burn in hell, some fellow homosexuals with words of support (or interest ) and, surprisingly, some fellow service members in a show solidarity.  But each encounter was always awkward for Bucky, who was not the most sociable of guys.

 

“It is you, right?” Door Guy prompted.

 

“Yeah, that's me,” Bucky huffed, running his flesh hand through his cropped hair in embarrassment.

 

“Well, it’s an honor to meet you, soldier.  I'm Peter Parker,” Door Guy said.  He gave a coquettish, charming smile as they stood up and he stuck his hand out.  

 

Bucky extended a hand in response and replied, “Nice to meet you, I’m James Barnes but my friends call me Bucky.”

 

Peter moved to shake Bucky's proffered hand only to pause.  Looking down, the soldier realized that it still held a piece of Door Guy’s -- Peter, his name was Peter -- Peter's laundry; a lacy, red, bra-slash-panties, all-in-one combo thing. 

 

“Um…”  Bucky's face turned roughly the same shade as the lingerie as he hurriedly handed the confusing garment back.  He didn't really know what else to say.  He had been, like, ninety-nine percent sure this dude was gay and hitting on him, but apparently he was wrong.  He was surprised by how disappointed that made him.

 

The younger man just laughed, “Oh Jesus, May.  My aunt lives around the corner and she sick right now so I came to check on her and got volunteered to do her laundry while I'm here.” Peter was completely unembarrassed, gesturing with undergarment as he spoke.  "As you can see, she has interesting taste."

 

“Your aunt seems like a fiery lady,” Bucky chuckled.  He was unreasonably relieved that the article in question wasn’t the property of some basic, barely-out-of-high-school girlfriend who’s entire wardrobe came out of an H&M display window.

 

“Yeah, for a nurse who works sixty hours a week, she still plays the field as much as she can.”

 

Just then, someone else attempted to enter the laundromat and found their path blocked by the two men conversing in the entryway, so they both moved towards the row of washing machines; Bucky to check his load, Peter to put the empty machine next door to use.

 

“So, what brings you -- the Army’s sexiest out-and-proud son -- to a launderette in Queens on this fine, snowy day?” Peter queried, batting his eyelashes shamelessly.

 

Oh, yeah, I definitely got a shot with this guy, Bucky thought with a cocky smirk.  “Guess I’m here for the pleasure of making your acquaintance,” he flirted.  “That and having clean socks for tomorrow.”

 

“I assumed someone like you would have a flock of trade at your beck and call offering to do all kinds of things for you.  Laundry included..."

 

Bucky grinned, “No such luck I’m afraid.  I run a solo op these days.”

 

“Well, I’m truly shocked,” Peter said in mock horror.  His eyes seemed to assess Bucky as be brought a hand up to fiddle with the long silver chain around his neck.  He stared in a way the soldier didn't really understand but liked nonetheless. 

 

Assessment aside, Bucky was about to respond with something witty and unabashedly flirty but found himself cut off by the grating noise of the washers buzzer going off.

 

Both men moved their focus to their laundry, friendly conversation continuing to flow.  They passed the time with teasing small talk and, when Bucky’s clothes were finished, they exchanged numbers, each fully expecting that this would not be the last time they saw one another.

 



 

“Buck!” 

 

The soldier startles out of his reverie.  “Jesus, what the hell are you yelling for, Rogers?!” 

 

“Been callin’ your name for two minutes, you just been starin’ off into space,” Steve responds, Brooklyn accent coming through.

 

"Well excuse me for zoning out when I got tired of waiting around for you to show up,” Bucky claps back.  But his irritation has already faded, his focus now on the upcoming briefing.  “But whatever, you’re here now.  Let’s put our heads together and get ready for Fury.”

 

Steve shakes his head.  “Change of plans, pal, just got word from Fury’s office that you are to skip the briefing and head for a meeting on the seventy-fifth floor.”

 

“The seventy-fifth…” Bucky wonders.  "Whoa.”

 

SHIELD headquarters is housed in Midtown Manhattan inside of the renowned Stark Tower, owned by and named for Tony Stark, former so-called ‘Merchant of Death’ turned top government weapons manufacturer.  His company, Stark Industries, now made weaponry exclusively for the United States government, supplying every branch of the military with everything from fancy pocket knives to the most high-tech warheads imaginable.  It's well known that the first fifty floors of the building are leased office space -- floors forty-six through forty-nine being utilized by SHIELD itself -- but anything above the fiftieth is SI, housing the labs, offices, meeting rooms, research and development, and executive floors.  All require top level clearance for entrance.  It's said that President Obama himself couldn’t access the upper floors of the tower without a thorough vetting by Stark’s security team. 

 

If Bucky is being asked to the seventy-fifth floor, he has no idea why and has the funny feeling it isn’t for anything good.

 

Since his very public coming out, Bucky had had some fall out to deal with.  He understood that his reassignment to SHIELD had less to do with his skill set and more to do with his former team leader, Rumlow, not wanting a ‘faggot’ around.  The brass hadn’t been thrilled with him either, everyone is still pretty unsure of how to navigate this new phase of open sexuality.  But, Bucky had become too high profile after the cover story to be silently phased out, so his current assignment had been a compromise that everyone could live with.  Sure, the Sergeant would have rather been putting all of his training to good use back in the field, but he couldn’t deny that it was nice to be stationary for a while after being sent on short-term assignments all over the world for that last decade.  However, none of this boded well for an invitation to the seventy-fifth floor.

 

“Did they say what the hell for?” Bucky asks Steve, hoping for more insight.

 

“Seems to be need-to-know, and I don't.  All I know is they said someone would meet you at the North elevators in five minutes.”

 

Bucky sighs, nervously running his fingers through his short, dark hair.  “Okay, if you don’t see me again, tell my sister and my folks that I love ‘em, will ya,” he says, only half joking.

 

“Very funny.  I’ll catch you up on what you miss in the briefing tomorrow.”

 

“Be sure to sit next to that MI6 agent - Carter, is it?” Bucky can’t help but tease.  He knows full well his best friend had developed a crush the moment moment he laid eyes on her.  “Bet she takes good notes.”

 

Steve glares in response.  “Ha ha.  Your stellar sense of humour will be missed.  Now, get going or you’ll miss your shot to get above the fiftieth floor.”

 

Bucky heads down the hall and winds through the corridors and cubicles until he gets to the North bank of lifts.  Standing there is a stunning, smartly dressed red-headed woman with an air of authority about her that tells Bucky this is who he's supposed to meet.  Her attire and demeanor making him uncomfortable, worrying that his jeans, boots, and rust-coloured Henley are completely under-dressed for whatever is about to happen.

 

“Hi there, I’m Sergeant Barnes,” Bucky says uncertainly.

 

“Nice to meet you, Sergeant,” the woman says, extending her hand in a firm shake while barely lifting her eyes from the tablet held in the crook of her other arm.  “I’m Ms. Potts.  Please follow me.”

 

They enter the waiting car and Ms. Potts produces a thick, black keycard that she swipes as the doors close, the car heading upward.

 

The lift is high powered and scarcely thirty seconds later there is a ding as the doors open to a brightly lit, sunny space of white marble and sleek steel.  It’s clear that the decorating budget goes up as the building does.

 

“This way, Mr. Barnes,” Ms. Potts says as she heads to the right.

 

“Uh- you can call me Bucky, everyone does,” the soldier blurts out.  It's mostly in an attempt to fill the unsettling silence, there seems to be no one else around, like the floor has been cleared.

 

“Very well.  Bucky."  The tone of Ms. Potts’ response makes it clear that he would not become privy to her first name in kind.

 

They walk through a large open area with floor to ceiling windows, seating areas furnished in white leather, and generous smatterings of exotic plants, until they come to a pair of shiny white double doors that open to the fanciest conference room Bucky has ever seen.  The decor is similar to what they’d just passed, white leather chairs, exotic plants, and floor to ceiling windows.  Bucky also notices what appears to be another elevator on the far wall, a private elevator that seems to open directly to the conference room.

 

Ms. Potts direct Bucky to take the center seat of the long, oval conference table made out of some kind of pale wood with an unusual, intricate grain. 

 

Without asking, Ms. Potts pours him a glass of water from the nearby crystal decanter and takes a seat opposite him.  Producing a rather thick sheaf of papers and laying them, along with a very expensive looking pen, in front of the soldier, Ms. Potts states, “Mr. Barnes - excuse me - Bucky, I’m sure you have questions about why you are here, but before we can address those, I’m going to have to ask you to sign a non-disclosure agreement.”

 

“What?” Bucky asks, more than a little confused.  “I have no clue what’s going on, what I’m doing up here, and you’re telling me that I have to sign an NDA to even ask why?”

 

“That’s correct.” 

 

“And if I refuse?”

 

“If that is your decision, we'll simply proceed back down to the forty-eighth floor,” Ms. Potts answers coolly.

 

Bucky stares at the stack of paper in front of him, deciding to take a look.  He attempts reading over the information to see what he might be getting himself into, but three sentences in he realizes that the legal jargon is completely out of his depth. 

 

This is so surreal, the soldier is unsure what to do. 

 

Staring blankly at the page in front of him, he debates whether or not to just walk away.  If he heads back down now he could still make the briefing.  He could sit next to Steve and kick him under the table every time he catches the Captain staring at Agent Carter, watching his ears turn red and snickering.  But, who is Bucky kidding?  There’s no way he’d be able to concentrate on the briefing, he would spend the entire time wondering what would have happened if he’d stayed and found out what this was all about.  

 

Curiosity getting the better of him, Bucky grabs the pen -- Christ, it’s a Mont Blanc -- and recklessly signs his name in the indicated fields.  All the time a little voice in the back of his mind reminding him that curiosity killed the cat.

 

Having signed the last line, he looks up to see Ms. Potts typing something into her tablet.  When she’s done, she collects the signed NDA and ridiculously expensive pen and turns to the elevator door on the far wall.

 

“Thank you, Bucky,” she says as the lift silently slides open.  “Now, I’d like to introduce you to-”

 

“Holy shit,” Bucky interrupts, mouth falling agape.

 

“Eloquently put, Sergeant Barnes,” a shorter than expected dark-haired man in a suit worth more than Bucky’s parent’s house snarks.  “As you seem to have gathered, I’m Tony Stark.”

 

 

Notes:

So, I've kept some things out of the tags because they will be spoilers of what's to come, but I'm asking you guys if you'd rather know beforehand. (Hint: there is a character left out of the tags and a major ship that is *slowly* headed into port.) Let me know in the comments if you want spoilers and I'll update the tags.

I am Pac-Man, kudos are that dots I chase, leave them often. <3