Light from the sun shone through the trees, dappling the cool ground beneath, and Clint was happy. He waited behind the aisle, waiting for her to come, waiting to give her up. There are tears filling his eyes, and he turns to see the man at the altar, silver suit with a black shirt, and a bright red rose in his lapel. Long brown hair pulled back into what she refers as a "sexy man bun" a hint of facial hair, and the biggest smile on his dumb face.
Clint smiles, and turns back, to see her coming up. She's absolutely breathtaking, and he feels like he's about to cry when he sees his niece in her white dress, fitted with a tasteful ruching from the sweetheart neckline bodice to the waste, with little accents of rhinestone that glimmer in the sun. Her short honey hair is done up with the veil and tiara he remembers her mother wore on her wedding, all that time ago, 23 years, he remembers Emilia being pregnant and scared that day, and he sees that child, looking at him, like a daughter would her father. And he's happy.
Her eyes light up and sparkle when he pulls her in and kisses her forehead. He buries his face into the crook of her shoulder and let's his tears fall. She pulls back.
"Are you ready?" She asks
"I wish..." He murmurs.
Taking her arm, he leads her to the altar, where Bucky stares in awe at his soon to be wife. Hope looks up at him and smiles. And Clint is happy.
"James Buchanan Barnes, do you take Hope Rosette Barton as your lawfully wedded wife?" The preacher says, not one eye is dry in the room. Clint looks over to Natasha, the matron of honor, in a satiny number the same bright scarlet as the rise in Bucky's lapel, and in Hope's hair, bringing out her eyes, filled with tears.
"I do," Bucky says as he shakily slides the little silver ring onto Hope's hand. They're both quivering with excitement and fear, Hope is fit to burst.
"I now pronounce you man and wife, James, you may kiss your bride." Bucky takes her face in his hand, and closes his eyes, leaning in. Their lips collide in a passionate kiss, and Clint is very, very happy.
The alarm clock beeps, 7:30 am... Clint is not happy. He rolls over, to find the sun absent, filled in with harsh wind and rain. He gets up, groggily to make his breakfast.
He steps into the kitchen, to find a figure sitting at the wooden table, brown hair falling into his face, staring at his cup of black coffee. Bucky hated black coffee.
"We were gonna be married today..." Bucky chokes out, setting his cup on the table and pulling out the ring. It was beautiful on its own, but was absolutely stunning on her hand.
"But they HAD to target her," he whimpers. Clint is not happy, he feels the thought of the wedding slipping away, and he doesn't want it to go. Her beautiful face, beautiful dress, is slowly replaced with her mangled, bloody corpse, missing organs and bones, all they found of her body. The autopsy had said that she was awake when they were removed, Clint didn't tell Bucky.
"I didn't even get to tell her I loved her," Bucky sobs.
Clint feels the tears falling from his eyes, he makes a glance towards her bedroom, still untidy, still unkempt with wedding plans, the closet with her dress, never to be worn at the altar, even the receipt for the fucking cake is on the table, they just HAD to have HER. Clint is not happy, he chokes back tears and buries his face in his hands. Bucky slowly recovers and stands, turning to Clint, his eyes are red, and Clint sees all the love Bucky had had for the archer's niece.
"I guess a fairytale ending was a little stupid anyway," the soldier says as he shuffles away, leaving the coffee.
Clint is not happy.