Talk of marriage had been bouncing between them since the 1940s, on quiet nights broken with sober talks.
The first time, they were nineteen and had been together only a few months. Steve was at Bucky's place, leaning against his side with their arms tangled together and meeting with clasped hands resting on Steve's thigh. They spoke with soft voices, with long, comfortable pauses before a new topic came up, like Steve's last fight in front of the theater, Bucky's boxing practice, Steve's missing sock from last week, Bucky's disdain for under-toasted bread. They shifted through conversations, none so serious as when Bucky asked the taboo question.
He'd gotten quiet first, after a discussion about the new dance studio two blocks away, but it was a stern silence, like he was thinking about how to word what he wanted to say. Steve could sense it was an important thing his boyfriend was thinking about, and waited while studying the other boy's fingers.
They were long and blunt, longer than his own, which had an ever-present line of paint and lead under the nails. Bucky's were always smooth and clean.
Suddenly Bucky's fingers were gone from Steve's study, running through their owner's hair with a deep inhale.
"Do you think... if we were older...that you would ever consider... uh, if we could ever get, y'know, married?" His question sounded like it confused himself by the tone of his voice, "I mean, if I were a gal or you were a gal, do you think?"
Steve straightened up on the old couch so his back was vertical against its hard back. He swore this was the most uncomfortable couch in existence, like someone slapped two blocks of wood on a large, rectangular rock and disguised that with a fabric layer.
"I..." he brought his hands to his lap, studying them on their own. There was a callous on his right middle finger from holding brushes and pencils so often. "I don't know? We can't even hold hands outside each other's door, so why even think about that?"
They could never be too careful, always wary of drawing attention to their relationship for fear of the repercussions if the wrong person were to find out.
Bucky shrugged. "Hypothetically though. If we could. Would you?"
Leave it to Bucky Barnes to come up with these talks that require more than a moment of thinking to answer.
Steve loved Bucky, and he knew Bucky loved him. They'd loved each other since high school, and now they could finally show their love to each other. But this was a question of whether he would show their love to the world. He decided on a more sarcastic response, saying with an airy chuckle, "Are trying to hypothetically propose to me or something?"
He quickly followed with a more serious answer though, bringing his head down so his cheek was squashed against the brunet's square shoulder. "But yeah. I like to think that I would if we could."
That seemed to satisfy Bucky's question and they moved on to a new topic- something relating to whether Bucky should do his laundry now, or later.
"God, please do it now," Steve said with a wrinkle of his nose, face now pressed to the fabric of Bucky's shirt and hiding a grin, "You reek like a skunk's dirty socks!"
After that came the occasional joke about a hypothetical wedding they would have. Steve would would see a new wedding dress on display at the dress shop on their way to the park, elbow Bucky with a wicked grin, and say "Oh wouldn't you look just divine in that one?"
And then Bucky would look at the dress, with its ruffles and frills, a studious expression on his face.
"Hmm, I'm more into the beaded-chaffron look," he would say, barely hiding the twitching smile before they were walking again, trading laughter as they went.
Sometimes they joked about being each other's best man, regardless of the fact that this would be their own hypothetical wedding.
They were drunk on exhaustion and the night that time, laughing with their heads back and trying to out-do the other's ideas in ridiculousness. Bucky won with: "I'd want to have my best friend be my best man, while I marry my best friend, and you're the best friend I've ever had. You're more than enough to be two best friends."
They'd mock arguments over things like baby names ("I don't know, babe, I kind of like Scrappy and Oopy1 if we have twins."), or bridal dress colors ("Are you kidding me? No one looks good in that shade."), all in good fun and followed by hard laughs, with tears building in their eyes.
Yet through all the talks and joking around, there was always this underlying sadness, the knowledge that, as things stood right now, the two of them would never be married. They couldn't even let people close to them on that they were together; they'd be cursed out as abominations otherwise.
They could never give an honest answer when asked if they were seeing someone, always had to deal with family match-making with the "oh-so-pretty girl your father met in line at the bank." There would never be a ring on their fingers, to bind them through love to old age.
It became a problem when they started living together- not for themselves, but as they compared themselves with other couples. The ones who society accepted as right, who could file taxes together and file for financial assistance. None of that for Bucky and Steve, not even the right to visit one another in the hospital if the time ever called for it. With Steve's ailments, the call was pretty regular for Bucky, who often times wasn't allowed past the waiting room.
Their sadness grew when Steve found out Bucky had joined the army, and that with all his times trying, he was always turned away. Gays weren't permitted in the army, and even though he and his partner were both bisexual, it wouldn't matter. There would be no family phone calls, only carefully worded letters that were void of the "I-love-you"s they'd want to say, no call to Steve if anything were to happen to the man he loved while he was stationed over seas. He'd get no support as the partner of a soldier, no sorry talks or clasped hands. He'd be one of the last to find out, while those who were married-those who could marry would be first. It would be the end for them both if either one slipped up, with Bucky labeled as a dishonorable discharge and Steve himself having to bear the repercussions of society.
Steve wouldn't give up trying- with every time he was denied, he'd come back with a new application, each time forged more and more to give him a faulty clean bill of health.
Bucky would look at him with eyes full of pity- though free of surprise- when he'd come back each time not yet enlisted.
"You're not what they're looking for. You gotta accept that. No use lying and trying to change you," he'd say, eyeing a faked application he pulled from Steve's hands when he walked in.
"Why should my physicality matter to them so much? I want to fight for my country as much as you do; shouldn't that be enough?" Steve would snap, jaw locked and breath short with anger, "I want to be there with you, Buck, I want to be able to know you'll be okay."
Bucky could only offer a shrug.
Tears were shed when the brunet's time came to leave. They discussed marriage one more time then, though it was brief with Bucky saying, "I love you so much, okay? When I get back a ring's going on that finger, wedding or not. I love you; I don't care."
Steve only became more desperate to enlist. He could merely feel relief when he was finally accepted, even if he was simply to be used as a test for this strange body-enhancing serum. If it would let him fight for the country he loved, and bring him closer to the man he loved, he'd take it.
When he found out Bucky had been captured, along with the rest of the 107, he was glad he took the serum, especially after his success of a rescue mission.
Bucky didn't seem to see it that way.
"What the hell were you thinking?" He hissed from his cot in the medical tent. He needed a few days to recover after God knows what he went through. "You could have been killed, asshole! And then what? What would I do?"
"You would have been killed too! I had to do it!" Steve paused- took a deep breath and leveled his voice, "I'm not the same kid I was back in Brooklyn."
"I told you not to go changing yourself. You're lucky that experiment didn't kill you," Bucky mumbled, frowned, and rolled over on his side.
Steve took his cue and left the tent then.
With Bucky's renewing health, came returning talks of marriage, mumbled and hushed in secrecy between themselves. They talked about who would cry ("Oh, c'mon, you cried during Snow White; it'll definitely be you!"), and what cake they'd have ("Alright fine then! Let's just make it marbled and we'll both be happy!"). They had a sense of normality, even if they had to safer guard their conversations for fear of being overheard.
Sometimes Steve wondered if anyone else in the 107th knew. During meals, when he was late to sit down and Dum Dum was seated next to Bucky, the former would stand, gesture for Steve to take his place, and move elsewhere. Then Dum Dum would elbow Gabe, and both would stare at their food, clearly hiding smiles between their bites of food.
He noticed the little nods Jim offered, looking between the two men with a knowing expression. He may not have talked as much as the other guys, but Steve figured he didn't need to.
Then there were the times, rare as they were, that Bucky and Steve weren't side-by-side, farther than eye-shot from one another. The moment Bucky ducked into another tent, or walked off to talk with anyone, or even disappeared to take a piss, Steve was immediately questioned about his whereabouts.
"Why do you guys always ask me where he is?" He wondered out loud to Montgomery one day.
The older man rolled his eyes and smirked. "You guys are almost attached. If anyone's gonna know where Barnes is at, it's gonna be you."
"He's trying to mooch some cigars off of Dum Dum," Steve answered flatly with a wave of his hand. He tried to ignore the 'I-told-you-so' scoff Montgomery made before walking off to find them.
It was Jaques who made Steve the most nervous. Well, maybe not Jaques on his own, but when he was with Gabe, the blond could say he'd get anxious. They were always chattering away, always in French, not caring who listened in since obviously, no one else could understand them. The two would cast looks toward himself and Bucky, sometimes trying to be discreet, and laughing at something that they said. Sometimes Steve could swear he'd heard his name- and Bucky's too- somewhere between the 'vous' and 'bleus', but nothing else struck out at him. Of course it would help if he spoke any French.
"I swear you guys are talking about us," he confronted them one day after he'd seen them walk by him and Bucky cleaning their guns together. It was the laughing and shoving that got his attention, with the occasional wink and suggestive jerk of an arm.
Gabe mumbled into the Frenchman's ear- probably translating- and they snickered before Gabe shrugged nonchalantly. "Hmm? Lower that ego of yours, Rogers; we were discussing French literature."
"I heard my name," he pressed, "Bucky's too."
"No those were just false-cognates. The sound like words in English but they mean something completely different in French."
Steve never bought their excuses, and they seemed to get more half-assed in their lying the more he asked, but they still never let up. That was what lead to Steve staying up in his tent at night, French-to-English dictionary in hand, while he tried to decipher that accursed language.
"Ha! Steve isn't even a word, they are talking about us!"
Bucky groaned and threw a pillow at his tent mate, telling him to shut up and turn in already. "You're going crazy. Relax."
His words went ignored, with Steve sitting up in his cot and frantically scanning pages. "Did he say 'coping2'...? That's not even French- what does it mean? I can't find it!"
At that point it was probably safe to say the Howling Commandos all knew somehow. Steve would never discover how they found out, much to his own disdain, but maybe it was for the best that they kept quiet about what they knew. It was like an unspoken rule that they were never to speak openly about Bucky and Steve being together. If the brunet wasn't concerned, he supposed he could trust them. They were friends after all.
Things were looking up then; they'd never go back to normal but they were okay. The couple slowly eased themselves around the rest of their team.
At night, when everyone had turned in, retreating to their respective tents, Bucky and Steve would sit next to each other on a cot, holding hands and leaning on one another like in the old days. Sometimes Bucky would take his hand away to massage his fingers into the other man's shoulder, drag his fingers through his blond hair and trace the line of his jaw, down his neck, and to his collarbone. Sometimes he'd risk a short kiss on the path he traced, but nothing more. Even if they could trust the others, they would never make the risk of being caught.
Then Bucky's hand would return back to Steve's, and they gave each other a mutual squeeze.
His fingers seemed smaller now when Steve looked at them entwined with his; they no longer extended beyond his own, but this was only due to his artificial growth spurt. Dirt was caked in every crevice, even under his nails, which were cut close to the skin now. They were dirty now- laden with grime and acts of violence and war. They'd never be clean again, neither of their hands would be.
Steve frowned, not at this thought, but because he knew something was missing. That hand- Bucky's left one- deserved a ring. The longer he pictured one on his finger, the stranger he looked without it. That was the night that he decided, once they were home, they should put on a ring, weddings and marriage be damned. They'd been through a lot-more than the average couple, Steve was sure- so they at least deserved that much.
Bucky was all for it the next day when it was explained to him; he just loved the idea. First thing they'd do back home in Brooklyn. would be ring shopping.
It was by cruel fate that they never went back to Brooklyn together. That when they went on that train, it was the last time they looked each other in the eyes, the last silent 'I love you.' When Bucky fell, Steve lost his whole world, and this time he knew nothing could bring it back.
Fate, however, had plans, and seventy years later, after being frozen and thawed, he was shoved into a strange new existence. The world was different, louder, brighter, and with much more commotion, but it was the movements toward equality, the steps America took heading forward, that excited Steve most.
He was freer in this time, able to be more open about himself rather than hiding who he was from those around him. He could hold hands with whoever he wanted to; he could kiss them in public and take them on dates where he would hold open the door and pull out their chair. He could marry another man and be treated with respect by a large part of the population.
He could finally have some pride, and that meant so much to him, that it hurt him to know it wasn't like this in all parts of the country. How could he settle for his own satisfaction when there were so many others still facing the problems he had so many decades ago?
This was a world that Steve found to be both exhilarating and disappointing at the same time; more importantly it was where Steve found Bucky again. But he was a weapon now, with seventy years of freezes and wipes to his mind. He was different now- violent, feral, and broken. He almost wasn't Bucky, but his eyes said that he was. Bucky was still there, underneath that machine. Steve knew that, even if the others tried to dissuade him.
He was sure he could save Bucky, bring him back to the surface. And of course, even then he was right. It took time, with so many months to track the assassin down, so many more months of therapy and coaxing, but he came back. Bucky came back and he was the same man Steve knew all those years ago, even without most of the memories.
With time, little by little, they rebuilt those together. Searched for things that would trigger more to arise. It was hard; even to get a little ways took a lot of time. That was okay with Steve, he was willing to do anything for this man.
One thing Bucky remembered relatively easily was Steve. He wasn't able to recall everything, but he could talk about countless fights he'd bailed the other out of in the past, late nights spent draped on a rock-hard couch together, Steve's wild nature and headstrong attitude. He remembered the snake he helped to hide in Steve's closet, and then the frenzied searching when the secret pet escaped. He remembered calling an ambulance when he found Steve unconscious in the hallway of his apartment. He remembered consoling the smaller boy after his mother's funeral.
The most important thing, Steve thought, was that he remembered that they loved each other. He still did. With time came his growing comfort, and with that he grew more affectionate.
It wasn't much at first- pouring an extra glass of water, asking how he'd slept, giving Steve that one extra Hostess Cake when there was an odd number in the package (and he really did love those things). As he relaxed around Steve, he gradually sat closer, stopping just before their shoulders and thighs could touch. Sometimes he'd let Steve touch his back or arm, and sometimes he would put his hand (his right one, the one they didn't steal) over Steve's, and then they would look at each other, cautious and wanting, and it was clear that things were getting okay again.
They were holding hands again, sitting on the fire escape outside their shared apartment, when Bucky brought up the ageless topic between them. "Would you still consider getting married if we could?"
His voice came out in a mumble, aimed at his own lap, like he was somehow
The blond looked to him with a creased brow and his cheek between his teeth, taking in the other's expression before he answered. "Buck... you know I would," He found his gaze falling to his boyfriend's left arm, smooth metal, fake, a reminder of what he'd been forced to do. He tore his eyes away quickly. "We can. It's a new age; marriage is possible for us now."
At that, Bucky picked his head up, looked out at the streaking lights of cars that passed in the streets below. He visibly relaxed, though he still had that wary aura about him. He closed his eyes in a slow blink and his fingers twitched beneath Steve's.
"Good... That's good," he whispered through a heavy breath.
They didn't speak for the rest of the night, but laid flat on their backs and watched the darkening sky.
A month went by before Bucky finally, officially, 'popped the question'. It was a busy day, with dry cleaning to be done, burnt waffles to dispose of, and an urgent call from Fury (Steve wasn't so worried about that one), all just an hour after the couple had risen out of bed.
Steve found the ring while he was putting on his shoes. He didn't know what it was at first- a pebble? A beetle? Did Fury bug him again?- and was more than shocked when a golden band clattered to the floor when he tipped shoe over.
"Oh my God," he let out, following the ring as it rolled in loose circles on the scratchy floor. He glanced up to look at Bucky, who was lowering himself to one knee and leaning over to pick up the ring.
The brunet coughed, not so much clearing his throat as he was just making the noise, before speaking. "So, we've been together for a while now- what has it been- seventy-five? Eighty years? And I may not have remembered you through all of it but- shit. You're the most important person to me, Steve; you always have been, and I want you to continue to be... I know things might not get easier for us, but I uh," He paused, fumbling for words. Okay, he'd been fumbling the whole way through. "I want to be with you every step of the way."
At that last line, Steve tried to suppress a sharp laugh, but instead morphed it into an obnoxious snort. "That was good. With the shoe. I get it."
Bucky managed a smile there, and his shoulders squared with confidence. He looked more excited than Steve had seen him in a long time. "Are you going to tell me your answer?"
Somehow, after all those years assuring Bucky that his answer would be a straight 'yes', he just couldn't say it. Steve's mind went to those who were still waiting for this moment- to be able to say yes- many having waited just as long as he had but with the advantage of skipping ahead seventy years. It felt to him like he was cheating those people out somehow. He was Captain America, patron of justice and freedom! What right did he have to claim this when so many people he fought for were still waiting?
He wanted this- they both did- and for so long too. There was no way he'd say no, but...
"Buck, I..." Steve hoped his voice didn't sound as conflicted as he was feeling. He tried to ignore the regret taking over the look of hope in Bucky's eyes when he hesitated with his words, tried to pretend he didn't the disappointed slump of his shoulders, or the subtle step back he took. "I can't marry you. I'm sorry."
"You told him what?!"
Two days later Steve found himself faced with a storm of berates from Tony in the Avengers Tower. Bruce being there, not part of the conversation but overlooking spreadsheets while giving the occasional nod and offhanded 'He's right, Steve' didn't make it any better.
"I just can't do what so many other people want but can't have. People's very livelihoods are at risk for being in love! I said I fight for the people, and that counts for here too." Defensive words tumbled out of his mouth, fast and seeming to be without thought, when the reality was he'd practiced his reasonings.
"You've been waiting to put a ring on that for how long and you actually turned him down? Not a good move, on your part, Captain Spandex." If Steve were a dog, he'd of left the room with his ears pinned back in sorrow and his tails between his legs.
Luckily Sam and Natasha were a bit more understanding. Well, Natasha was. Sam couldn't seem to settle, explaining how he supported Steve's decision when he felt he wasn't ready, but also prompting him to reconsider, what with all the adjustments Bucky was going through and how hard this must be for him.
The conversation ended with a sympathetic smile from both, the assassin's hand on his shoulder while she told him in passing, "You do what feels right for you. He should understand. If not, I can make him."
Of course the underlying threat wasn't appreciated.
Clint found him later, after training late that night. He shrugged, told Steve he could have at least put the ring on, and tried to crack a joke to lighten the mood before he parted. It didn't work, but what the man said sure did.
When they sat curled up together on the couch that night, Bucky jerked Steve's hand up close to his face, inspecting it in the flashing light of the TV.
"You put the ring on?" His mouth twitched into a crooked smile, an expression that Steve loved to see on his partner's face.
The blond shrugged and nodded. "I may not be ready to get married, but I think I'm ready to be engaged. Besides, who knows how much time we have to plan this wedding?"
"We better make it worth while. I wanna knock the designer socks clean off that 'Daddy Warbucks' friend of yours when he sees how extravagantly we can plan."
And so plan the couple did. It was like old times, except their hypothetical wedding had the potential to become a reality now. They still cracked jokes, and the fun they had was all the same- like who would carry the bouquet, because "the flowers are important, babe!" (A call on Sam helped them to settle on pinning an arrangement of Forget-Me-Nots to their lapels), or again what kind of cake to have (and as they did before, they decided marbled would be the safest bet), or even where to have the reception ("Wendy's? Outback Steakhouse? 'The organic shop you buy fruit at in the next town over'? What kind of suggestions are these?").
It took time for Bucky to comfortably wear a ring on his finger, his entire left arm being the bionic one. To him it represented his time spent as a weapon to HYDRA, a machine with no ounce of humanity in him. It was a symbol of what he'd almost done to Steve.
But the ring, as simple an object as it was, represented so much more. It was his love for Steve, a connection they'd shared dating back to when they met in the run down streets of Brooklyn, and one that would they would continue to share far into their future together. Overall, the symbolism of the ring outweighed the memories tied into the arm.
Bucky confessed this to Steve while they were walking through Central Park, feeling oddly vulnerable in the darkness. The serenity of late night walks normally served to calmed his nerves, but as silence lingered on, Bucky became more and more nervous, worried that he said something wrong. Until he realized that Steve was crying; the sound almost went unnoticed, were it not for the catch in the blond man's breath.
It was like he was seeing for the first time what Bucky was to him- what he was to Bucky. They'd both lost and gained so much to get to this point, some for the better and others for worse. So many years had passed to get to where they were at now, and though they were still waiting even now, they knew they could bare with it this time. At least now they each had a ring to show off their engagement.
People sometimes asked about the rings. They were always happy to introduce their fiance, even to strangers. And while some responded with words set fire with hate, a majority of those people's reaction made Steve proud. He'd seen where they'd come from as a country, and progression like this was never not amazing to him.
Bucky loved to talk about Steve. So much, in fact, that he took to carrying a small cloth around, with which he would polish his ring in obscure situations, just to pique the interest of strangers, who would then ask to be told about the lucky someone.
At some point, Steve realized, it was like they already were married, what with the small touches on each other's backs when they passed by, the clumsy dances when a nostalgic song came on the radio; the way they could just sit together in their shared apartment, with nothing but their heart beats to listen to. Then he realized they'd always been like this, and he knew he really was lucky.
Fridays were movie nights. It started out as a way to celebrate the closing of yet another week of school, continuing on past their graduation. They visiting the theater on a weekly basis, sometimes sneaking into multiple shows before they were finally chased out. The tradition continued even now, with Bucky lounging on the couch, running his fingers through Steve's hair, who was settled on the floor in front of him.
They were a good hour into the movie, with their second bowl of popcorn halfway gone, when Steve's phone started buzzing at his side. The lit-up screen told him it was Tony, or 'Richie Rich', as he'd entered the name into his phone.
With a mumble from Bucky to 'shut whoever it is up', Steve didn't even wait for the call to go to voice mail, canceling the call instead. The phone was still in his hands, his finger having just left the screen when it started buzzing again.
Steve still refused to answer, but sent a text to the nuisance of a man that read, "youre inturrupting movie night why?"
Bucky groaned and pushed the blond's head the side when the phone gave off three consecutive buzzes, this time alerting its owner of new texts. "Make them stop," he pleaded, eyes kept on the screen of their retro TV.
"Heres something youll wanna see" the text said, followed by an urgent sounding "NOW" and a link to a news article, which Steve begrudgingly followed.
He only had to read the headline before his heart started bubbling with excitement, his hands shaking as he skimmed the article. Never before in his life had he ever smiled so big that his cheeks started to hurt. He held his phone up for Bucky to read, telling him to pause the movie and check it out. He added some urgency to his voice when the man didn't comply, and the phone was gone from his hands with an eye roll and sigh.
"This better be good. You made me pause the high-action sequence. You know I don't believe in pausing the high-action sequence," Bucky chided, flicking Steve's shoulder.
"God, just read it already!" Was the response he got, to which he put a hand up in surrender before finally looking over his partner's screen.
Steve turned around to watch the back and forth movement of his eyes, the widening expression on his face as the reality of the article dawned on him. He read it once, then sat up to read it again, looking to Steve with watering eyes when he was done.
Neither man spoke. They didn't think they'd be able to, not without their voices coming out choked and full of tears. Instead, they stood and hugged each other tight, bumping foreheads and holding tight to the backs of the other's shirts.
The phone was soon forgotten then, slipping out of Bucky's hand without either one of them caring. It was still opened on the article before it went black from inactivity, the bolded headline letters bringing news neither of them had even dreamed of reading growing up.
When Tony called for the third time, Steve finally answered, albeit he wasn't happy about having to release his hold on his fiance.
"So... when's the wedding?" Came the staticky voice of the billionaire.
The two men shared a grin with each other, before both answered in a jumble of words with fast excitement.
"July! The sooner the better, Steve!" Bucky reasoned with an obvious tone.
"Really?" Steve grinned. "Figured you'd be more of a... Winter wedding kind of guy."
/AN:
1Scrappy is the main character from Scrappyland, and Oopy is his younger brother. The cartoon aired from 1931-41
2 He means 'copain' here, which means 'little friend' or 'boyfriend' in French
Written in celebration of June 26's Supreme Court ruling for same-sex marriage! I intended this to be no more than 500 words, now look at this monster.
My beta was magicsintheair, who did way more work than she should have had to, whoops./