"My ass is flat?" Bucky craned his neck to check out his own backside. He knew there was plenty still wrong with him, but a flat ass was not even close to being on his radar. Sarah hadn't said anything. (And wasn't her opinion the only one that mattered anyway?) "So you're saying I shouldn't go with this tux?"

Sam laughed as he went back to looking through a bridal catalog that had been on the coffee table outside of the fitting room Bucky had been going in and out of for the last hour.

"You do you, man," Sam said. "But if you go with that one, I'll hook you up with my tailor. Can't have you having a saggy butt while you're saying your vows." He took a sip of champagne, really leaning into the whole shopping experience. It was nice. He finally understood why they made a whole industry and television shows out of it. People waiting on you hand and foot, bringing you drinks and fancy clothes to try on. He was sure a huge part of it had to do with him being Captain America, but seeing Bucky's epic look of disdain when a large selection of tuxes were brought out for him to try on was completely worth it.

Bucky turned back around to face the three mirrors in front of him and scowled at Sam with his reflection. Aside from what were apparently ill-fitting pants, Bucky thought the rest of the slim navy tux fit fine and that he looked good in it. He hated dressing up like this, but knew it meant a lot to Sarah.

Sarah sent her fiancé and brother off that morning with strict instructions that Bucky needed something he felt comfortable in and that it couldn't be black (but still had to be dark). She said her dress was "smoke white" and that a navy or dark gray tux would be best and that, whatever color and style he went with, Sam was to get the same thing. ("Bucky gets to pick, Sam. It's his wedding. You can dress him up in whatever the hell you want when you get married, but do not ruin this for me. Repeat what I just said so I know you heard me.") Everything was written down in a note on Bucky's phone, but he wasn't super worried. He could always be counted on to follow through with a mission.

"Well, call your tailor then, Samuel, because this is the one," Bucky said as he stretched his arms out and gave himself one last look.

"If you say so," Sam replied. "Then so it is." He put his drink and magazine down to really take in his future brother-in-law. Sam thought Bucky looked happy. Relaxed almost, despite the fancy outfit. It actually amazed Sam that Bucky still had reasons to smile after all these years and that his sister was one of them. (Though he would never admit that to Bucky.) "Did you ever think you'd get married?"

Bucky scrunched his nose as he genuinely pondered the question. He turned around to face Sam and shrugged. "Honestly… Not really."

"Really?" Sam asked.

Bucky nodded as he walked over and gingerly sat down in the chair next to Sam's, so as not to rip the tux. "Yeah… I mean… my parents died when I was a kid, right?" He grabbed one of the bridal magazines and rolled it up in his hands. "The one time I remember me and Steve talking about weddings, we swore we'd be each other's Best Man. But we didn't talk about the future much because we both knew he probably wouldn't make it. And then when I enlisted, I made peace with myself that I might not make it. But then the whole HYDRA thing happened… and up until recently I didn't think I'd be a functioning member of society, let alone someone's boyfriend or husband." Bucky let out a sad chuckle. "Kinda sucks that, despite the odds, Steve and me both made it out of the war and through our medical traumas, but neither of us were there to see a wedding actually happen for the other guy." He looked over at Sam. "No offense."

"None taken," Sam said as he clapped Bucky on the back. "Look… I know I'm not Steve. But I'm glad to see this happen for you." He let out a big sigh. "I guess this means I should try my tux on too."

Minutes later, Bucky was in his street clothes and sitting back in his chair, sipping champagne. He laughed when Sam made a big production walking out of the fitting room.

"Take notes, James, because this is how you fill a tux," Sam gloated as he strutted the short distance to admire himself in the mirrors, purposefully showing off his rear.

Bucky had to admit, Sam did look good. It probably helped that he was someone who enjoyed dressing to impress.

"You think you'll ever get married?" Bucky asked, genuinely curious. Sam hadn't been frozen or experimented on, but Bucky knew he had been through his own personal hell of losing his best friend and partner, not to mention also being an orphan and working his ass off as Captain America. Bucky had been fighting by his side ever since the whole Flag Smashers ordeal and knew what little free time Sam had, he spent with his family and community in Louisiana. Unless Sam was withholding information, Bucky could count the amount of first dates Sam had been on the past year with one hand. There were no second dates as far as he knew.

Still ogling himself, Sam replied, "Maybe. Maybe not. But if I do, it's going to be one hell of a party. I'm talking dressed to the nines. Seafood boil. Live jazz. Dancing 'til the sun comes up." He started shaking his hips and moving to music only he could hear.

Bucky laughed but internally panicked, knowing he was expected to share a first dance with Sarah. They had danced, sure. But they hadn't actually danced-danced. Bucky hadn't done that since the '40s.