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“It’s really not that big of a deal.”
Steve felt his eye twitch. It had started slow. Just a little wobble right in the corner near his tear duct. He breathed in, then out and then drew his chest up with another deep inhale. He was calm. Bucky was right; this wasn’t a big deal.
Clearly, his heart didn’t agree. That tic turned from a small, niggling irritation to a full-blown twitch the more Steve thought about it.
It was, in fact, a big deal. A really big one.
“We’ll get it annulled,” Bucky offered as if that wasn’t the first thing that Steve had thought of.
Bucky had his head cradled in his right hand, his eyes bloodshot and bleary. His hair was ruffled in all the right ways that had Steve’s fingers itching to reach out and touch. Steve wanted to smooth it all down and murmur sweet nothings against Bucky’s heated brow. Kiss that hangover away.
Instead, Steve crossed his arms over his chest and stared Bucky down. There was very little in this world that Steve wouldn’t do for the love of his life, but comforting him through this morning was one such thing.
“Maybe,” Bucky added after a moment thought. His frown did not bode well for Steve’s twitching eye. “What names did we even use?” he asked, his eyes flicking over to the third person in the room.
At least she had the decency to look worse than Bucky. Steve had never seen Natasha look frazzled the entire time he’d known her. They’d been through hell together, and except for Wanda getting into Nat’s mind, she’d always been cool, calm and collected no matter what the world threw at her.
“How did this even happen?” Steve asked defeatedly.
“One tequila,” Natasha said. Tequila, apparently, was one of the few things that could bring the mighty super spy down.
“Two tequila,” Bucky added.
“Three tequila,” Natasha counted.
Steve had had just about enough of this, and he made it known by clearing his throat. There was no way that three tequilas could have this sort of effect on either of the suffering pair – maybe three bottles – but he didn’t have the patience to stand there and listen to them counting the shots off for the rest of the morning.
Even hungover, Bucky could read Steve’s physical cues, and so the story skipped ahead to the crème de la crème of endings. “And then there was Elvis with a shotgun,” Bucky nodded sagely.
“There was no shotgun.”
“Really?” Bucky looked at Natasha with a frown. His metal arm moved up to ruffle the back of his hair as he tried to remember. “Then why are they called Shotgun Weddings if there’s no shotgun? I thought there was a shotgun.” He looked totally confounded. “I’m pretty sure he was holding a-”
“You shouldn’t even be able to get drunk!” Steve finally clicked and forced the conversation back to the more pressing issue. It was much more important than whether or not their Elvis impersonating Officiant had a shotgun or not.
“Well, not all of us have the same alcohol tolerance as you, Captain Super Soldier,” Bucky snarked. Natasha nodded and huffed her agreement; Steve found it most unhelpful.
“You were given the same serum.” That was, in Steve’s honest opinion, a logical argument.
Sometimes he forgot that Bucky was like him. They all did. After everything Bucky had been through, it was often easy to classify him in with the likes of Natasha and Clint; a highly skilled part of the team, but technically a mere mortal. A human. The arm was hard to ignore, and sometimes Bucky would let something slip that was so outdated and borderline 1940’s noir that it brought his age into question. But other than that, he kept his serum enhanced abilities on the down-low.
“It’s discount Hydra knock-off,” Bucky sighed. “Completely different. I’m like the Abibas of Adidas.” Steve didn’t really get that reference, but Bucky seemed proud of himself, and Natasha coughed out a small laugh from the sidelines. Steve glared his disapproval at her. Between her and Sam, they were corrupting Bucky.
“I know you’re angry,” Bucky was trying to soothe him. Steve could see the ticking of Bucky’s brain as he sluggishly tried to navigate thought through his hangover. “I’m not so sure why, but I know you’re angry.”
“I’m…” Steve paused and breathed in again. It wasn’t that he was angry, per se, and he was sure that he’d see the funny side eventually. Steve was just confused, and maybe a little jealous. And perhaps a little irritated. “I’m annoyed, not angry. And I’m annoyed because you went and married Natasha on a drunken whim.”
Bucky dared to roll his eyes, though, from the way he groaned afterwards, it wasn’t amazing for his headache. It made Steve feel a little better, even if he did have to physically stop himself from rushing over to help.
“It’s not that big of a deal,” Bucky reasoned again. “I don’t know why you’ve got that disapproval face on. It’s just a drunken funny, and we’ll get it sorted and-”
“Because you’re meant to marry me!” Steve hissed. It was a little more biting and rough than he intended, and if his mind was anywhere near stable, then he wouldn’t have said it at all. But he had, and now Bucky was looking at him with wide eyes and Natasha was choking on air.
Of all the ways and all the times those words could have been said, this certainly wasn’t the opportune moment.
Bucky took it about as well as Bucky took most things.
“Not my fault Nat asked first!” he said, borderline tartly.
“Don’t go bringing me into this, boys.”
“Why not?” Bucky retorted. There was a challenging lift to his eyebrow that paired well with the thin line of his lips. He was egging Steve on, staring him down.
All things considered, Steve was still inclined to side with Bucky on that one. “Yeah, you’re his wife now,” he pointed out. “You should be involved.” It was a lot easier to say that than to process the other things going around in Steve’s head.
“Don’t you drag my wife into this,” Bucky huffed back.
“Oh god. I regret everything,” Nat mumbled, her body curling up as she sank further into the couch. The nasty side of Steve snickered at that. Good. Suffer. He instantly felt terrible, but it was worth it for that split second of gloating.
Ever the defender, Bucky huffed and pulled the sheets up further. “Don’t shame her for asking first.”
“Just for the record,” Natasha interjected, “I’m not so sure I asked…”
“You did,” Bucky snapped.
“I don’t really think-”
“Shut up, Nat.” Bucky deadpanned.
“Ah,” Natasha sighed. It sounded long-suffering and defeated, even to Steve. “Marital bliss.”
“All you had to do was ask.” The way Bucky huffed made Steve feel bad. At least for a second. Then he realised that Bucky was playing him, even now and even with his hangover, and then Steve didn’t feel so bad anymore.
“I was going to!” He shot back in a way that was totally not playing right into Bucky’s hands. At least that was what Steve would tell himself after all this. He’d made a stand! Proved a point; not laid his heart on his sleeve and practically begged for Bucky to understand.
That didn’t seem to have the desired effect, though. Steve had hoped that Bucky would swoon – just a little – at that. Not like some damsel in distress or anything, but like a man in love who was being asked to spend the rest of his possibly unnaturally long life with his partner.
“Well,” Bucky huffed. “You waited too long.”
“So that’s it?” Steve hissed back. “The chance is gone, and you’re going to stay married to her?”
“I’m right here,” Nat sounded offended. Good.
“No,” Bucky said decisively. “We’ll get it annulled. Sorry, Nat.”
“No complaints here,” she interjected.
“But until then,” Bucky’s expression morphed. It went from resolute and grim with determination, to a smirk. It was an expression that Steve knew well. Devious and salacious, especially when mixed with that subtle lift of his eyebrow. Bucky didn’t even need to finish the sentence to coax Steve forward. Steve was already climbing onto the bed even as Bucky said, “You can be my dirty little extramarital secret.”
“Oh, no. Nope. No. Just no,” Natasha was saying. “Secret means not seeing.” Steve heard the creak of the couch as she stood, and at some stage the door closed loudly in a way that made Bucky wince, but Steve was far too preoccupied to care.