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Their wedding day did not dawn particularly bright or clear. It was meant to be springtime, but New York didn’t seem to have gotten the message, and only a few of the very bravest plants had started to flower. Clouds hung rather threateningly in the sky, and the wind was doing its level best to cut through clothing and skin and muscle; all in all, it was an entirely ordinary day. Steve could not have been happier, although the state of his happiness, it should be said, had nothing to do with the state of the weather.
“You better enjoy this,” Tony said, his index finger making a sudden appearance in front of Steve's face. “This is the one day I am going to let you smile that soppily in my presence ever again.”
“Did you sleep last night?” Steve asked, and Tony shifted incredibly suspiciously.
“Of course I did,” he lied. “It was incredibly restful. I love REM cycles. I’m leaving now.”
“Okay,” Steve said, as the door swung shut behind Tony. He can hear Tony muttering something about what a close call that was.
“Don’t be sleep-deprived at my wedding!” Steve shouted through the door.
“Fuck you, I do what I want!” Tony yelled, and made a hasty retreat.
His phone buzzed on its desk, and Steve snatched it up. Asshole Cannon, the screen said, and Steve really couldn’t help the smile on his face when he answered the call to see Bucky’s face filling up the screen.
“Hey, honey,” Bucky said, and even the kind of shitty phone video quality can’t take all the warmth out of his voice. “They’re betting on how long it’s going to take you to crack and come see me.”
“I know that,” Steve says. “Why d’you think I haven’t?”
“And here I was thinking you didn’t want to see me,” Bucky drawled.
“That was just a bonus,” Steve said, and utterly failed to ignore the way his heart leapt in his chest at the way Bucky’s nose wrinkled at the comment.
“I should go, Nat’s coming back,” Bucky said finally, and Steve nodded.
“Love you,” he said, and if his throat was choked at the thought of next seeing his best guy at the altar then nobody needed to know.
“Love you too, punk,” Bucky said, and hung up just as Tony came back in.
“What the fuck?” Tony asked suspiciously. “What the fuck? Has Barnes been here? Why do you look so happy?”
“I called him, Tony,” Steve said, throwing his phone at Tony’s head and relishing the squawk it elicited. “I don’t know why none of you bet on me actually using technology.”
Tony stared at him open-mouthed for a few long seconds, and then swore and marched right back out of the room. He took Steve’s phone with him, but that was okay because he was walking down the aisle in less than ten minutes.
“You’re fucking sneaky, Steve,” Sam said approvingly when he came in, and offered an elbow.
“I'm going to fucking marry Bucky, Sam,” Steve said as he took it, entirely too earnestly but unable to keep this to himself even though he knew Sam was perfectly aware of the fact. “Fucking - marry him.”
“Trust me, I know,” Sam said, but his voice was indulgent. “You’re going to marry the shit out of him.”
“Fuck yeah,” Steve muttered, and straightened his unnecessarily straight tie. It was red, and Bucky had made it from his own two hands because Bucky was frankly miraculous, and it had been the instrument of the proposal on both their sides. Bucky had looped it around Steve’s neck and said something stupidly endearing about tying him up in red string, and then they’d kind of stared at each other and ended up blurting out alternate forms of the same request. Steve was going to keep this tie forever.
The drive to Central Park was somehow a lot longer and a lot shorter than Steve had expected. He and Bucky got out of their respective cars at the same time and kind of leapt at each other. There were a bunch of reporters and their cameras at the ready.
“You think they can find a way to misinterpret this?” Bucky asked, and kissed Steve in a rather inappropriate way.
“And we’re walking,” Natasha said loudly. “Down the aisle, that way, walking together, off you go.”
“We’re going,” Bucky grumbled, and put an arm around Steve’s waist so that their bodies were pressed together.
“That’s not -” Tony said, and gave up with a sigh. “Fine, just get to the officiant.”
Steve was not ashamed to admit that he cried during Bucky’s vows. He made a last minute change to his own, and started with a, “Fuck you, my voice is all wobbly,” and a wet sort of sniffle that probably shouldn’t have made Bucky look at Steve so adoringly.
It turned out even, though, because Steve’s vows made Bucky cry, and they both saw their teammates wiping away tears. A surprisingly large amount of reporters were crying too, and one photographer was taking pictures of the ground while he blew his noise.
“I think this was a success,” Bucky said, regarding the crying populace like a king. “I was promised cake at the tower.”
“Let’s go, Mr Barnes-Rogers,” Steve said.
“After you, Mr Barnes-Rogers,” Bucky returned, in an infinitely more saccharine tone. Tony groaned behind them.
Tony’s mood had changed utterly by the time they all got back to the Tower; he got out of his car with a massive smile on his face, waving his phone around in the air.
“Steve! Buckaroo!” he called. The two men being called exchanged glances.
“Uh oh,” Bucky said, unnecessarily.
“Uh oh,” Steve agreed, and then turned to Tony, who had an expression of unholy glee on his face.
“Come inside,” he said, and once they were in the common room he said, “JARVIS, open up the file I sent you.”
For a moment, Steve didn’t notice anything wrong: it was a tweet from the New York Times, which said Congratulations Sergeant James Barnes and Captain Steve Rogers on their wedding! accompanied by an image of the two of them kissing, and rice coming out of the left side of the frame from where Tony had been throwing it at them.
“Oh, Jesus wept,” Bucky said, and Steve spotted the comment below as his husband fell about laughing.
Great pic! Getting married on the same day as my bff is goals! ! Are there any pictures of how their brides look? someone had said. The noise that came out of Steve’s mouth upon reading it was probably previously unknown to mankind.
“What the fuck,” Steve moaned. “Turn it off, what the fuck, how can people be so dumb?”
“And on that note, I want to give you your wedding present now instead of later,” Tony said, and presented them with a rather large binder. Bucky gave it an incredibly sceptical look, which in Steve’s opinion showed good taste and judgement.
“Oh, come on,” Tony said, and began flipping through it. Bucky cackled, which showed a deep lack of good taste and judgement, and Steve groaned and turned away with a hand on his forehead like he was going to faint. He wished he was going to faint, he needed the sweet release of unconsciousness, because the binder was full of all the times anybody who was anyone had misinterpreted his relationship with Bucky, as well as a few choice examples of people being comprehensively shut down after suggesting it could possibly, maybe, be a thing.
“Why?” Steve whined, but he had to smile at the careful clipping of the news article titled HAND HOLDING GOOD FOR YOU, SAYS STAR-SPANGLED MAN WITH A PLAN, and somehow from there it became a slippery slope, and Steve ended up muffling his laughter into Bucky’s thigh from where he was sitting on the floor.
“God, there’s always a few,” Bucky sighed. “We look good, though. You were right, these pants make my ass look great.”
“Your ass always looks great,” Steve said, entirely sincerely. “The pants are pretty good too.”
“They’d look much better on the floor of your bedroom,” Clint said. “Note the your before the bedroom, please.”
“I don’t need to be thinking about that,” Tony said, his voice very put-upon. “Go away and fuck, the wedding party’s at five, you have three hours.”
