WinterIron one shots

Braid

Word count: 860

Summery: For a hundred year-old, deep frozen assassin, Bucky had really nice hair.

So I'm kind of running out of ideas ... so this is a little shorter than the others .... but really fluffy!!

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For a hundred year-old, deep frozen assassin, Bucky had really nice hair.

It was long and thick, a deep brown that perfectly complemented his pale skin. He usually wore it up, in loose buns or tight ponytails, but wisps always fell in his face as the day went on. Tony really wanted to touch it to see if it was as soft as it looked.

He also wanted to touch Bucky's lips, preferably with his own lips, and maybe some other bits of the assassin's anatomy, but that was neither here nor there. Bucky's hair, at least, Tony could platonically offer to braid or something. It was harder to explain wanting to platonically shove his tongue down the other man's throat.

Tony didn't see that going over well, if he was being honest.

He contented himself with pining in silence, even if he did have to quickly vacate the room when Bucky came in with a flower crown braided into his hair. Deadly assassins should not be able to look that cute, Tony maintained. It should be illegal.

Even messy, it was gorgeous. Tony was suing.

Bucky was moping in the kitchen, stirring a bowl of batter angrily. His hair was practically a bird's nest, some weird combination of up and down that had Tony's fingers itching to get a hairbrush and fix it.

"Hey, Snowflake," he called instead. "What are you making?"

"Cookies," Bucky grumbled, spitting a chunk of hair out of his mouth. "But I can't put my stupid hair up with one arm, so it's slowing going."

Bucky wasn't wearing his metal arm; his sleeve hung empty at his side. Tony, despite his tech boner, surprisingly hadn't noticed. "Are you okay?" he asked, concerned. "Is the arm acting up? We can head down to the shop, and-"

"Nothin' like that," Bucky shook his head and smiled. "Your tech is perfect, as always. No, it's just... phantom pains, I guess."

Tony rubbed his arc reactor in sympathy. "I get that," he said. "Nothing I can do about it, unfortunately, but I can fix your other problem."

Bucky stopped stirring. "You can do hair?" he said with no small amount of skepticism.

"Oh, ye of little faith!" Tony cried, pressing a wounded hand to his chest and swooning dramatically. "Of course I can do hair. Now come sit over here and I'll fix that mess right up."

Tony led Bucky over to the couch, sitting Bucky on the floor and settling in behind him. With gentle fingers, he started unraveling the knots. It would have been easier if he had a hairbrush, but he really didn't want to get up to get one, in case Bucky came to his senses, or something.

"What are you gonna do?" prompted Bucky. "I just need it out of my face."

"A simple French braid," Tony decided, thinking of other brown hair he had done the same way. Almost without a concious thought, his fingers started moving. "Your hair is so soft, it's unreal.."

Tony didn't mean to say that out loud. Curiously, the tips of Bucky's ears turned pink and he didn't reach around to punch Tony.

"Yeah, well," he said gruffly. "I live with some billionaire who can afford the nice conditioner."

"I knew it," Tony sniffed, pulling another piece of Bucky's hair away from his face. "You only want me for my money."

"In my defense, it's really nice conditioner."

Tony pursed his lips. "Valid," he said finally. He finished off the braid with a flourish, tying it with the hair tie that Bucky passed him (red and gold; Tony approved). "All done, Buckaroo."

"How do you know how to braid so well?" asked Bucky, leaning his head against Tony's knee.

Tony shrugged even though he knew Bucky couldn't see him. "Wires," he said after a beat. "I do a lot of delicate work with wires and stuff. Sometimes braiding is involved."

"Ah," Bucky hummed, then fell silent. Tony twitched nervously. He hadn't lied, but...

"My mother taught me," Tony blurted out, hands twisting even faster in his lap. "I used to braid her hair before she went to bed, when I was a kid. It kept it from getting messy when she slept."

"That's really sweet," said Bucky, reaching a hand up to tug the end of his braid. "She taught you well."

"It's a simple French braid, Barnes," Tony grumbled, ducking his head to hide the red staining his cheeks. "It's not rocket science."

"Still. Thank you, Tony," Bucky said, smiling softly. He stood up and pressed a chaste kiss to Tony's lips, who was too shell shocked to kiss back. Bucky straightened and winked. "I have to take the cookies out of the oven. If you feel like moving any time soon, you might be able to nab some before Steve eats them all."

Steve ended up eating all of them, but that was only because Tony snatched the cook.