#weallhaveouruniqueobsessions

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Bucky Barnes 🍔:: no can do stevaroniBucky Barnes 🍔:: i cant be ur best manSteve Rogers: Oh. Okay.Steve Rogers: Why not?Bucky Barnes 🍔:: sam already asked

Steve Rogers: YOU SNIPED MY BEST MAN!💞 Sam🌟 Wilson💞: 😏 😘

Natasha 😎 Romanoff: i think im busy that daySteve Rogers: But I told you two months ago we were getting married on November 19th!Natasha 😎 Romanoff: that’s the day IKEA is delivering my new couch and I have to be thereSteve Rogers: [typing]Natasha 😎 Romanoff: IM KIDDING ROGERS of course I’ll be your best man ;)

“I was gonna say,” Steve said when he met up with Nat for coffee later, “that had better be a really fuckin’ nice couch that you’d miss my wedding.”

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“I thought you decided on the red tie,” Bucky said from his perch on the end of the bed. Steve kept fussing with his tie in the mirror.

“But the blue tie… Sam says I look good in blue…”

“Blue suit,” Bucky reminded him.

“Right, but…”

“What about no tie?” Bucky asked, knowing full well it would annoy Steve.

“It’s my wedding day. I’m wearing a damn tie.”

Bucky smirked and Steve caught his eye in the mirror. Steve rolled his eyes and yanked the blue tie off, setting it on the vanity in front of him. Then there was a knock on the door, or at least it was supposed to be a knock, but it sounded more like somebody kicking the door with the front of their shoe.

Bucky shuffled over to the door and peered through the peep hole. “What’s the password?”

“I brought drinks,” said Natasha from the other side.

“Ding ding ding!” Bucky let Natasha into the hotel room. She had a paper cup holder with Starbucks drinks for them. Steve took his vanilla latte (the ‘fanciest’ drink he’d allow himself), Bucky got his iced coffee, and Nat got herself a tea. Steve took one sip and nearly choked. “What’s–in this?”

“I added a little… something-something,” Natasha said with the tiniest proud smile. “I’m getting the bachelor party started early.”

Steve’s phone buzzed on the countertop and Steve went to get it while Nat and Bucky went over the plans for the rest of the day (brunch, last minute shopping for the wedding, lunch even though brunch should have counted, probably nap time, then the rooftop bachelor party). “Hey, Sam,” said Steve.

Bucky glanced over because he saw Steve’s face go from delighted to devastated in less than a second. He reached out and touched Nat on the wrist and she stopped mid-sentence, then they quietly left the room together.

“Sam–it’s okay–we already got the license, you know, it’s just–a ceremony. We’re married. You have to go, it’s–don’t cry.” Steve’s voice broke just as Bucky and Nat shut the door. They crashed back against the door and mirrored each other’s stance with folded arms. Neither of them could look at each other.

“Shit,” Bucky said finally.

“I’m gonna call the venue, see if they can reschedule. Can you start calling the guests?”

“Sure. Yeah.” Bucky felt sick. “I… yeah. Hold off on calling that venue.”

“What?”

—

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Steve said as Nat held the door for him to enter the ballroom. “It’s not right without Sam here.”

“They couldn’t cancel the reservation, so we might as well try and have some fun. Everyone we invited can still make it, and you shouldn’t be alone right now. It’s like an extended bachelor party.”

“We’re missing a bachelor…” Steve balled his fists at his sides. Couldn’t even say Sam’s name without wanting to burst into tears. Nat bit down on her lip and nudged Steve with her elbow.

“I’ll get you a drink,” she said, even though they both knew it wouldn’t make a difference.

Guests started to arrive, each a little somber, and Steve couldn’t let himself feel anything but worry for Sam. The worst part was that Sam had to go on a mission and that meant danger and–

Nat shoved a glass of champagne in his hand. The party helped get his mind off of things, he supposed, and people were dancing to the live band playing old standards. “Holding up?” she asked.

“I’m fine. Just a little anxious to hear back from Sam–that he’s okay.”

Nat looked over Steve’s shoulders and smiled. “Why don’t… you ask him?”

Steve stared at Nat like she was growing a second head, then she flicked her gaze toward the doors. The world seemed to slow down as Steve turned around. Everything else faded into the background when he saw who had arrived, and like an idiot, Steve shouted: “Sam!”

Several guests heard Steve and immediately turned their attention on the big, blonde idiot that unabashedly tripped over about seven chairs (how the hell was this guy Captain America for so long?) to reach his fiancé. Sam wore a light gray suit and with the bright lights surrounding him in the entryway Steve had to touch him to know he was real.

Sam barely caught Steve as he threw himself into his arms, holding him in a tight embrace. Steve pressed his face into Sam’s neck and breathed in all of Sam–the familiar arc of his back, the softness of his skin, the easy shift of his weight to one leg. “You made it,” Steve choked out.

“I couldn’t miss our wedding, Steve. I just couldn’t.”

“But the mission–”

“Bucky is taking care of it.”

Sam was crying, and so was Steve, and neither of them gave a shit that Nat was recording this.

Steve could have started crying all over again, but he didn’t, and instead he let Nat take Sam away so they could have a mini dress rehearsal. The guests situated themselves into two groups with a middle aisle, and the band played Sam down the aisle with Steve watching through barely contained tears. Sam read his vows–which he said he wrote on the quinjet ride in–and Steve realized he forgot his vows, so he said something stupid about how he met Sam while running in DC.

Then with a final oh, shit from Natasha, they all realized Barnes had the rings.

Sam and Steve could barely contain their laughter, which was half-giggling and half-sobbing. It was decided they were definitely still happily married, and they could just get their rings later.

“So, wait,” Nat said when they were all eating cake later. “Rogers-Wilson?” Wilson-Rogers?”

Sam and Steve looked at each other. “Rogson,” said Sam.

“Ehhh. Wilgers,” Steve said, shrugging one shoulder.

Nat checked her phone. “Barnes says you have to name your firstborn after him.”

“James Buchanan Wilgers.” Steve lifted his glass.

“To James Buchanan Wilgers,” said Sam, rolling his eyes, and they toasted to the theoretical child with a truly heinous name.

Eventually Sam convinced Steve to dance with him, which turned out just about as disastrous as everybody thought it would. They ended the night with a slow dance, and Steve couldn’t have been happier to have his husband in his arms while the band played Glenn Miller.

“This is corny,” Sam whispered at him.

“Let me have this!”

“All right, all right.” Sam leaned in and their foreheads touched. “At least you know how to dance like this, old man.”