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Tony and Pepper’s wedding was a lavish affair, but that seemed only natural. There were as many people coming as the venue could hold, at least five hundred. Bucky was sort of antsy as they walked into the building. Pepper was a saint, though, and she probably planned to do pictures and shit beforehand so he’d have a chance to get comfortable, instead of, y’know, walking into a building full of strangers and mildly losing his shit. Or maybe that was just how weddings worked in the future.
The venue was beautiful, a sort of fancy barn with two floors and a patio. The first floor had the main seating area, a wide space that was presumably the dance floor, and, bless everything, an open bar. (What was he thinking, he couldn’t get drunk if he wanted to. At least drinking would give him something perfunctory to do). The second floor was smaller and had extra seating. He bet he or Clint would find their way up there within half an hour after the ceremony.
Steve let out a whistle as he took in the building, and Bucky smiled at that.
“You two are late, and we’re doing pictures outside,” Natasha said, and then she was leading them out to the patio and down some stairs. Pepper and Tony were there. Bucky was happy for them as they grinned at each other like a couple of teenagers.
“Barnes! You look cheerful,” Tony said to Bucky, who was probably glaring, wearing an all-black suit. He raised an eyebrow at him, and, for some reason, Tony giggled. He decided weddings did weird things to people.
He and Steve waited around for the photographer to tell them what to do. Everyone got a picture with both the bride and the groom, and then the respective parties got pictures. Bucky was technically in Tony’s party, but he was fairly certain that was only because Steve was also in his party, and Tony was kind. For those pictures, he tried to stand on the edge. Steve pulled him over, though, to stand between him and Thor.
After that, there were a lot of shits-and-giggles pictures. Bunny ears were a running theme.
The ceremony went well, as far as Bucky could tell. He and the Avengers were sat in the front, which was nice.
He and Steve were standing to the side quietly, waiting for cake, when Bucky caught sight of the bar and elbowed Steve.
“Words, Buck,” he said, though he was smiling.
“Free drinks,”
Steve looked at him, then the bar, and then he sighed. “Sure, let’s go,” he said, so Bucky followed him.
“Ah, the super soldiers. Alrighty, Mr. Odinson has requested I offer you two Asgardian Mead,” the Bartender said, and Steve’s eyebrows went up. It took Bucky a second for it to click.
“Oh, is that the good shit you were talking about?”
“Very good shit,” Steve said, “Two of those, please.”
Bucky understood everything when he got a sip of it. It tasted foreign, definitely nothing like anything Earth had to offer, but the feeling was familiar. Granted, familiar meant about seventy years ago, but still. Steve downed his drink in one go.
While he was setting his drink down, Pepper approached him, smiling widely. Bucky smiled back, because Pepper was nice. She’d handled all of the paperwork and presses when he came back, sorting out his therapy sessions and sending him fairly regular texts asking if he was okay. Bucky respected her deeply, which was mostly why he came to the wedding in the first place. That and Steve.
“You look beautiful,” he said, and her eyes lit up.
“You, too,” she said. “Thank you for coming. I know this,” she motioned to the dance floor, to the people, “isn’t exactly where you want to be, and-“
Bucky cut her off, “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
“Thank you,” she said, before a relative grabbed her arm and whisked her away. He saw Steve sitting at a table in the back, so Bucky wandered back there. Steve was staring down at another shot glass of the Asgardian Mead, looking properly confused. Bucky looked at him, to which Steve simply sighed.
“How okay are you with driving home tonight?” Steve asked, and Bucky grinned.
“Over the moon if it means you’re gonna be drunk,” he said, sitting down in the seat next to him.
“You sound way too excited,” he said.
“Look, you walk like you always have the shield on your back, and, fuck, Steve, that’s gotta be exhausting. You getting drunk is, like, taking off the metaphorical shield for a couple hours,” Bucky said with a shrug.
Steve grinned for a moment before he said, “Do I really have a walk?”
“Yes, and normally it’s cute, but you can drop it every now and then. Steve Rogers was invited tonight, not Captain America. Do what Steve wants to do,” he said, and Steve looked at him before nodding a bit.
“You have a walk, too, y’know,” and Bucky barked out a laugh at that.
“Yeah, but my walk doesn’t come from responsibility. It’s from, like, wearing heavy shoes and being told to fuck shit up,” Bucky said with a smile. They didn’t joke about the whole Hydra thing often, and Bucky was always the one to start it. It’d gotten easier, though, to at least think about it without going catatonic. Steve helped, smiling and not going still when it was mentioned.
“I’m gonna regret this. You sure you’re-“
“Yes, Jesus.” Steve let out a small chuckle before taking a drink.
He sat with Steve for a while. Some person would approach them, or look over like they were going to, and their eyes would land on Bucky, and then they’d turn away. Bucky had enough of a moral compass to feel bad about that, for all but keeping Steve to himself. It wasn’t like he didn’t want Steve for himself, because he was still mostly human, a very, incredibly flawed human.
There was a point in the evening, around 9:53, and things shifted. He was fine, had been fine, but. Within a few seconds, the music was too loud, he could feel that deep thrum of the bass in his bones, and it made him want to vomit. There were too many people, and he couldn’t see all of the exits, and the fucking tie was suffocating him, and-
Someone grabbed his shoulder. It’s a miracle he didn’t strangle them. It wasn’t Steve, and the hand felt wrong, wrong, wrong. The person attached to the hand was saying something, and Bucky heard approximately none of it.
“Buck,” Steve said, and the hand dropped (was pushed) from his shoulder.
“I’m gonna find the restroom.”
“I’ll come with you,” he said. Jesus, Steve was weird. Bucky rolled his eyes.
“No, just. I’ll come back,” he said, and that seemed to pacify him enough. Bucky didn’t notice Steve had grabbed his wrist until he let go of it.
He felt mildly bad about not going straight to the bathroom, instead continuing down the hallway to find the stairs. What could he say, the empty second floor called to him. The door was locked. Bucky groaned and leaned his forehead against the door, because, fuck, that was inconvenient. He pulled a pin from his hair and made quick work of it, but still. Inconvenient. He locked it behind him out of courtesy.
He sort of dropped down onto the floor with his back against the wall, because a chair was a whole other foot away, and he couldn’t be bothered.
The open space did wonders for his nerves. They were almost in the realm of ‘calm’ in less than three minutes. He could still hear the music, of course, he’d probably be able to hear it from the parking lot. The exits, though, they were a goddamn delight to see. That woman who grabbed his shoulder was talking to Steve. Sam was at the bar. Tony and Pepper were eating some cake and laughing with each other. Clint and Natasha were going to town on the dance floor with some routine Bucky thought he’d seen in a movie. Banner was talking with Dr. Foster, probably about science considering how both of their eyes were lit up. Thor was sitting next to Jane, smiling fondly while she spoke.
He saw Steve stand up, probably giving the woman a smile to placate her after his exit. He then turned down the hallway Bucky went down, an area Bucky couldn’t see from the second floor. So he waited. It took him forever, but Steve eventually opened the door and got to the second floor.
“You okay?” Steve asked, and he, too, slowly sat on the floor next to him.
“Better,” he said, and Steve nodded. Then, he added, “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” he said. They sat in silence for a moment, and Bucky enjoyed it more than he’d enjoyed most of the night.
“So are you really not gonna drink or dance?” He asked, and Bucky chuckled.
“I don’t want to be drunk around this many people,” he said, and Steve deemed that to be an acceptable answer with a single nod.
“Dancing? You like to dance,” Steve said.
“Yes, but the floor is crowded,” he said, leaving off how it was full of too many people he could hurt.
“Dance with me,” Steve said while he was standing up and extending his hand.
“I just said-“
“No, just, dance with me. Right here.”
“You’re drunk,” he said, yet he was standing up anyway and accepting Steve’s hand.
“Come on, you know anything burns through me pretty quickly,” he said, and that was more terrifying than if he had been drunk.
He let Steve lead, because he seemed to have somewhat of a plan. The current song playing was pop and upbeat. And there Steve was, slowly swaying back and forth, pulling Bucky along with him. He hated how much he wanted it.
“Bucky,” he said, and then he moved his hand to his back and pulled Bucky closer. His chin was on Steve’s shoulder, chests flush together, and Steve was basically hugging him. They were still swaying, though, moving in a small, slow circle. Bucky began to feel bad, though, as was usual.
“People are going to wonder where Steve Rogers disappeared to,” he said, and Steve didn’t stop dancing.
“And if I leave, I’ll wonder where Bucky Barnes disappeared to,” Steve said. He didn’t know how to respond to that, so he pressed his face into Steve’s shoulder. “Let me be selfish. I wanna be here with you. I want you,” he said.
Before Bucky could think through what he was doing, he said, “Fuck, Rogers, after ninety-five years, you have to know I’m yours.”
They stopped dancing, and, fuck, maybe that was the wrong thing to say, but he couldn’t lose Steve, not because of stupid feelings he couldn’t even tamp down. Steve pulled back to look at him, smiling softly, and Bucky was confused as all hell, and then Steve was leaning toward him, and- oh. Steve was kissing him.
That was nice.
Let the record show Bucky was still a fan of kissing.
He didn’t know exactly what he was and wasn’t allowed to do, though, because it was Steve, and Bucky was still confused. The hand he had on the back of Steve’s neck, fingers sliding into his hair, seemed to be okay. Judging by the happy hum Steve emitted, it was definitely okay.
They pulled back eventually, and Steve was smiling, and Bucky didn’t know what to do with that, because he was fairly certain Steve was still mildly drunk.
“Good?” Steve asked, and Bucky knew he wasn’t asking for constructive criticism on his kissing. Bucky nodded and leaned his head on Steve’s shoulder, because he didn’t know what to do, and he didn’t trust himself to look at Steve without doing something stupid. Steve huffed out a small laugh and started swaying them again. His hand found it’s way to Bucky’s, and he rubbed his thumb over his knuckle, and Bucky would deny the sigh that slipped out of his mouth at that.
People began to leave around 11 PM. The reception was ending, albeit at a very slow pace.
“The floor’s clearing out,” Steve said conversationally.
Bucky hummed positively in response.
“Do you want to leave?” He asked, and Bucky most certainly did not want that.
“I’m okay here,” he said, and Steve laughed against his ear.
“Yeah, me, too, but we should maybe leave at some point.”
He hummed more neutrally at that. Their swaying came to a halt, and Steve didn’t let go of his hand while he lead them back down the stairs.
“People are staring,” he said quietly when he saw a wide-eyed caterer.
“Of course they’re staring, I’m Captain America,” Steve said, and, okay, he was considerably more drunk than previously thought.
“Steve,” he chided. Steve grinned before he dropped his hand. They waved goodbye to Tony and Pepper, who were beaming and making absolute fools of themselves on the dance floor. They were outside in a matter of moments, and the cool air against his skin was welcomed.
The drive home was calming, for the most part. Steve slumped down in the passenger seat, and he was pretty sure he dozed off for a few minutes. Then, he kept looking over at Bucky with a stupid smile on his face.
They got back to their apartment in Brooklyn after about a half hour drive.
“Give me the keys,” Bucky said as they walked up the stairs.
“What?” He said, and then he added, “No, I’m not that drunk, I can open a door.”
So Bucky waited patiently while Steve fiddled with the door lock. That lasted about a minute before Steve dropped the keys for the third time and shoved them towards Bucky. He smirked, and Steve hit his shoulder. They got in to the apartment, and Bucky’s only intention was to get out of the suit as soon as possible and go the fuck to sleep. Steve grabbed his wrist, though, before he could go to his room.
“What,” he said, as Steve pulled him back closer to him and wrapped an arm around his waist. Steve was smiling, and he was smiling, too, before he could stop himself. He did, however, brace his hands on Steve’s biceps, giving him enough leverage to push back. He didn’t, and he didn’t particularly want to, either, but the knowledge that he could was enough.
“I know I’m not very sober, but I wanna kiss you again, and I wanna sleep, but mostly the first one.”
“Well, I am sober, and you’re going to go to sleep, and we’re going to talk in the morning,” he said.
Steve had a look of consternation on his face, but he said, “Okay.”
“That means you need to let me go, Steve,” he said, and he tightened his grip on Steve’s arms for a second. Steve immediately dropped his arms, but he just stood there when Bucky walked away. “Oh my God, Steve, go to bed,” Bucky said. Steve smiled, though, and began walking to his room.
Steve was fucking weird sometimes.
—— ——
Bucky woke up to someone knocking on his door. He groaned in response, and Steve’s head was poking into his room a moment later.
“I’m sorry for pushing you last night,” Steve said as he walked in and stood next to his bed.
“And waking me up and coming into my room isn’t pushing?”
“I’m not drunk now, there’s a difference,” he said, and Bucky smiled as he sat up, the blankets pooling around his waist.
“So you were drunk,” Bucky said, pushing his hair out of his face.
“Yes, but I don’t regret kissing you. I regret that it happened while under the influence, and I regret that I didn’t tell you before any of this, but I don’t regret kissing you,” Steve said, sounding oddly determined.
After a moment, Bucky said, “Ditto.” Steve broke into a grin and quickly sat on his bed, grabbing his face in his hands before kissing him again.