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So eventually one thing led to another led to nanobots right? There's really only so far you can go with miniaturization before you're like 'fuck it, the changes in physics at that level just makes it more efficient to have self-repairing systems and if they're self repairing they might as well be self building.'
With a little bit of tinkering to Hansen's Extremis, and a little big of Arc technology, and a little bit of the control modules that Tony had already been injecting into his body ever since fumbling for the suit's bracelets during the Battle of New York. Well. The new suit flies like a dream, is what he's saying. More like an extension of his body than his own biological left arm, an arm which had been on the fritz ever since that trip to Afghanistan and it's oh so welcoming accommodations.
Forget the gantry, Tony can take the suit on or off with his brain, and how cool is that? He puts it through its paces then heads back to his balcony when he caught sight of his very attractive bodyguard who he may or may not be showing off for, floating down in a way very much like "I am like unto god descending from the heavens", arms spread to his sides as the metal opens up with a click click whrr to reveal Tony, striding down off it in all his tank-top and grease stained glory.
Here's the thing okay. A thing that Tony is very much not examining really closely: He hadn't been able to improve on the ninja stars much.
He'd spent a year, off and on, on them, but was maybe able to only tweak a couple angles, and used adamantium instead of steel for the cutting edges, which he laid over a self-repairing ceramic-alloy backbone that he'd repurposed from some old projects.
A hack job, essentially. Nothing new or particularly inspired.
A year. (for a hack job.)
And it was the guy's only request of him. Not even an island or anything. And when Tony gave them to Bucky, finally, well. Tony doesn't really know what to make of it. There's something there that makes Tony feel like he should be making an apology omelette but according to Youtube there's at least 59 ways to make an egg. And when he spoke to Grant about it, Grant says there's at least 200, and Grant knows food like Tony knows science.
Which is to say, after a three hour discussion on eggs, Tony is still stumped on the topic of omelettes.
But Tony knows engineering. He knows how to make an entrance. He shows the suit off to Bucky the best he knew how, repels the suit's components apart from itself as if it were one of his holograms, a three dimensional exploded diagram, pointing out elements of the design and the weaponry.
Bucky flushes up like a maiden given vapors and makes a sound that, you know, has Tony shift subtly on trained reflex because, "Tony you can't get an erection on stage, HR will have your head."
Which um, what? Tony's stuck on figuring out why he's overreacting to Bucky's probably totally normal frustration-reaction to his boss taking up too much of his time. But Tony also likes the attention okay, everyone and especially the people he spends time with most knows it, so lets himself be on autopilot while he tries to process what's going on even as he's reaching in to his expanded suit to point out the miniaturized missiles, rambling on the payload and accuracy and homing systems, the assembly and disassembly of Mini, Big, and Extra Big Arc blasters, the structural reinforcements and synthetic lipid production for lubrication, and Bucky is all like shuddering, wide-eyed, and maybe Bucky finally thinks something is neat!
Tony grins and the quip fall out unthinkingly, "Good lord did you just come."
And Tony drops his eyes to Bucky's pants like the joke demands, but. But.
But. Um. Well fuck. Bucky totally did, in fact, just straight up jizzed in his pants. The wet patch is... kind of obvious. And Bucky's simultaneously pale and flushed and probably panicking like a normal person and Tony's verbal hemorrhaging because, "So that happened. Or didn't happen. Or happened if you wanted it to and, fuck, what did Pepper say to do in this situation. I mean," Tony breathes. "Look. I'm not mad."
And Tony waves his hands placatingly because Bucky's looking two seconds from bolting, "And you're not fired, not if you don't want to be, or like, you could fire me instead."
"I can't fire you. You're Tony St—"
"—you could totally fire me, several assistants have fired me, Rhodey's fired me from life, Pepper only stopped threatening to fire me when she could actually fire me." Tony paused. "Though that might be because then there's no one else to sign the paperwork. Anyway. Fired. It's a thing." Tony offered. "If you want."
"I'm just... going to go now." Bucky says, looking overwhelmed.
"Yeah. You do that." Tony says before he could think but then he over thinks it. "Not that you have to go." Then waves his hands at Bucky's widened eyes. "Not that I need you to stay! I mean."
"I'm not fired?" Bucky seems to hazard a guess.
Which? What?
WHAT, why is that even a guess.
"You are never fired!" Tony shouts in dismay. "I think there's a condition on your contract at this point that you can never be fired, ever, since Monaco. Or at least there should be. Unless you want to be fired."
"I want to be fired?" Bucky repeats in absolute bafflement.
"No?"
"No."
Tony has a brief shocky flashback of the shitshow that was the last five minutes, so of course he asks. "Well why not? You can't say any of this is 'living the dream'—"
Only Tony cuts himself off when he sees the face that Bucky's made, one that clearly means Tony's put his foot in his mouth, again, and there was at lease Some living of Some dream and now everything's awkward and Bucky's body's pointing at the door in a way that people do when they want to move away but not sure that they're allowed.
"Can I at least give you my pants?" Tony asks helplessly.
"What."
"At this point walking out," Tony makes a gesture at the sum of Bucky, "It'd be a walk of shame? And it's avoidable, I have a change of clothes here. Pants."
"Your pants." Bucky states. Or asks? It's hard to tell.
"I hope you don't mind?" Tony cringes, god, HR gonna hate him even more, but the thing is he Likes Bucky kinda in that way that he Likes spending way too much time immersed in creating, say, a dozen ninja stars and then etching his signature in by hand because he's Like That. He hadn't been able to find a way to put a personal touch on them in any other way and he made sure that the irregularity didn't throw off the balance with the gold alloy filler. It's not like he'd spent much time on them, really, when the time isn't anything at all. Passed in a blink of an eye, unlike having to scrawl that same signature on Pepper's paperwork.
(Time with Bucky always felt cut short, and he hopes the shitshow of today wasn't going to be the final nail that the camel is threaded through with the guy's patience.)
"You want to give me your pants." Bucky states, and Tony's opening his mouth to agree but before he could there's this like.
Thunk.
Tony is staring at Bucky's pants around Bucky's feet, not certain how it got there or why this moment felt so long, dragging his eyes eventually upwards because he's gotta face the music and there is Mr. Murderface looking murderous as he tugs at the elastic of his bright red Stark Industries briefs saying, "At least these are my second favorite pair."
He's tugging them in a downward direction.
The wet patch is dark. And everything is Obvious, and might as well been painted on.
Swallowing is hard. He might have made a sound. There is movement behind Bucky and they both glance over to track it, Bucky looking over his shoulder, and it's the nanobot suit, that had reformed itself.
The suit that is controlled by Tony's mind, or at least his subconscious, because he is sure that he is in no way consciously asking it to plaster itself against Bucky's back and curl an arm around Bucky's waist and slide a metallic hand down that space made in the elastic, to palm beneath that dark spot that Tony is still helplessly staring at.
And the spot that Tony's not touching.
(well, some part of him is touching)
And the thing is, Bucky is not looking opposed at all. He's in fact all but swooning against the suit like some long-haired harlequin protagonist, arching into the hand like he's going to pop another boner in 3...
2.
1.
And there it goes, its blushed head peeking out over the top of Bucky's briefs, fucking beading with precome already. Bucky's arching his hips like he wants the IronMan suit to grab ahold of his dick already, but Tony's barely rubbing two billion braincells together at this point and all of them are focused on processing What The Fuck, so his suit is not exactly responding to any conscious commands and any subconscious commands are contradicting.
Bucky is apparently not a man to stand still for that. He turns around in the circle of the suits arms to practically climb the thing, slotting its leg up where Bucky needs it most and humping it decadently.
And this. You see this.
This gives Tony the perfect view of the most glorious ass he's had the honor of witnessing, with Stark Industries in gold lettering arched across a curvature Tony's already trying to calculate.
"Your pants?" Bucky prompts. Moans. Mentions. Staring slit-eyed over his shoulder even as he continued to smear precome all over Tony's red paint.
"Yeah?" Tony stammers. He's fairly sure his jaw is somewhere on the floor, along with his dignity, and what ever is the result of losing his entire shit.
"You said I could have them?"
"Yes." Tony says, as he scrambles out of them, and, more importantly, closer.