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Tony didn't mind the late night knocking, once he saw Bucky's ashen skin and the night-black blood.
"It happened again," he said, before the shaking started.
Tony cupped a hand over his shoulder. He wasn't afraid that someone would wake up, someone will hear them, someone will see. Bucky had a way of knocking so that only Tony can hear him, a way of moving so no one could see. Tony pulled him inside, wrapping his arm around his shoulder and holding him close to feel his body shudder against him.
He nearly carried Bucky to the spare room, glad that the kids weren't having a sleepover. Bucky hid his face his Tony's neck when the light went on, clinging to his shirt. Tony hissed soothing noises through his teeth as he pried Bucky loose, sitting him on the lid of the toilet to get a good look at him.
"How many?" he asked, his voice flat but soft.
"One."
"Just one?"
"Isn't that enough?"
Bucky's eyes were brilliant in the harsh bathroom light, glittering like the blood on his cheek, across his mouth, down his chest. He seemed to wait for an answer, for... something. Tony ignored the question, picking up his hands to look at the damage.
"Did you bleed?"
"No. I was careful."
Tony ignored the way their skin stuck together wetly, blood like thick paste. There were no wounds, just as he said. Bucky was always careful with the knife. Tony turned over his hands. "Jesus, did you hit him first?"
"No. That was... something else."
His knuckles were swollen. There were dark marks around his wrists, too dark to be very recent. Not as new as the blood. "Only one?"
Bucky looked away, didn't answer, but Tony knew.
It wasn't the first guy he brought home tonight. Just the first to die.
Tony pulled Bucky to standing. He was weak on his feet, but the shaking had stopped. His skin was so cold. Tony tugged down baggy jeans that were already loose on his hips and dragged him into the shower. He propped him up against the wall and turned on the water hot as it would go.
"Where?"
"My place."
"You know where the towels are."
Before Tony could escape the steam, Bucky reached out and grabbed his arm, leaving a black-red stain on his forearm. "Thanks."
And then he smiled, brightly, widely, showing all his teeth stark white and sharp like bone against the ruddish stain on his lips.
Tony placed his hand over Bucky's and squeezed. It was nothing really. Friends helped friends.
And true friends helped friends hide bodies.