Chapter 5: Straight to Hell

Steve knew his mother wasn't homophobic, despite her rekindled devotion to Catholicism. She'd been beyond supportive, even thrilled, when he started dating Bucky after the Paralympics. And yet, he was still nervous about how she'd react to the news of their engagement. It wasn't just that he was engaged to a man, but that he was engaged at age twenty-two, before he'd even graduated from college. He knew she'd been watching the Espys, so she must've heard Bucky say the magic word, but she hadn't tried to contact him since, except to confirm what time to pick them up from the airport. Steve should have suspected that meant she had something sappy planned.

She and his dad were easy to spot because they stood beneath a massive bundle of purple and gold balloons holding a "Congratulations" sign. The hugs he got from both of him threatened to implode his ribcage. The weeks following were some of the best of his life. He met some truly incredible children through his internship at Gravesen, and many of the new faces, upon seeing him for the first time, exclaimed, "It's Steve! From the videos!" One even asked for his autograph. The hardest part was that he only got to see Bucky on the weekends, when he came home from training. But he always came back with an idea for something fun they could do together. They visited the Met, which Steve hadn't seen in years even though they lived relatively close, and Bucky let him take as long as he wanted with each work of art. At least every other week they tried a new restaurant. And on one memorable occasion, Bucky took him axe throwing. Naturally, he was way better at it than Steve was.

They also embarked on what Bucky referred to as, "Steve's most ambitious party planning escapade of all time," and what Steve referred to as simply, "planning our wedding." Both the Rogers and the Barnes insisted on being involved, and they didn't hesitate to let them help (both with planning and financially). Steve once thought that setting up the Independence Day festivities at Gravesen or planning Bucky's Farewell to Arms was difficult, but those paled in comparison to the scope of this production. Choose a venue, choose a menu, hire all sorts of people to do all sorts of things from preparing food to DJing to taking photos and videos, write up an invite list, write vows. His to-do list loomed longer than ever, and his tendency towards perfectionism refused to allow him to delegate as much as he ought to.

Saturday, May eighth.

By the time they chose that date, they had about eight months to get everything in order. They also had to go back to school. Steve still attended online, so he took on the majority of the planning still left to do while Bucky went back down to UVA. Before he shipped out, though, Bucky presented Steve with a parting gift. Steve took one look at it and strongly resisted the urge to slap Bucky across the face.

"Why the fuck didn't you tell me about this?"

"I wanted to surprise you!"

"Well, I'm certainly surprised. When did this come out?"

"Yesterday."

"And how long have you known about it?"

"Since the week after the Espys. That's when the guy approached me about the article."

"Wow." Steve still hadn't looked away from the gift clutched in his hands: the latest issue of Sports Illustrated. Only instead of LeBron James or Serena Williams, the cover depicted none other than Bucky Barnes, with a stare so focused it could've melted cast iron and a soccer ball tucked casually under his arm. In massive letters beneath him ran the title, "One-Armed and Dangerous."

"Do you like the title?" Bucky asked with a grin.

"As long as you like it, I love it."

"He ran it by me before publishing it. I told him it was a fantastic idea."

"What's the article about?"

"I think it's mostly a transcript of our interview. He asked me about a lot of different things."

"Like what?"

"The Paralympics, the Espys, cancer, my fiancé."

"He asked you about me?"

"Yeah, a little bit. I didn't tell him anything that you wouldn't be willing to share with a complete stranger. It was mostly about how I think me liking men affects how sports fans see me or whatever. I expect you'll read the article, it's all in there."

"Of course I'll read it. I'll read it, and then I'll buy a shadowbox for this magazine and hang in on the wall."

"That seems a little excessive."

"Bucky, you made the cover."

"Yeah…I guess para sports are way more popular than they used to be. Did you know that they didn't used to present the Best Athlete with a Disability Espy during the actual show? It was one of those minor ones awarded offscreen and mentioned in one sentence on the website or whatever."

"I think you and Josiah might have had something to do with that."

"Nah. We're just riding the rising tide."

Steve shrugged him off. He refused to believe that Bucky had nothing to do with the popularity of amputee soccer. "Whatever you say."

"That photo shoot was really awkward, by the way. I wish they'd just used one from a game or something."

"I think this is a great picture. You look so intense. I can see why they chose this one, it matches the whole "One-Armed and Dangerous" title.

"Want to know what I was thinking about to make that face?"

"What?"

"I was imagining Alex standing behind the camera and thinking about beaning him in the face with that soccer ball."

Steve laughed so suddenly and so hard that he nearly dropped the magazine still clutched in his grip. God, he couldn't wait to finish school and just marry Bucky already so they could stop being separated for such long stretches.

~0~

He and Steve didn't exchange engagement rings, so there was no visible sign of his betrothal on his person. However, the entire UVA men's soccer team had seen the Espys and most had read his article in SI, so as soon as he reunited with them for the first time since last semester, they bombarded him with endless questions about the engagement. Bucky answered none of them. He spoke of it only with Josiah in the privacy of their shared room.

"Dude, it's so crazy that you're literally engaged. How many people get engaged before they even finish college?"

"Not that many, I guess. But with Steve's health being what it is—and mine—we know there's never any time to waste." Over the summer, he had his six-year oncology check-up at Gravesen. Everything came back clean, but enduring a bone scan, echocardiogram, urinalysis, and bloodwork only reminded him of how many things could go wrong. Relapse, onset of long-term-side effects, secondary cancers, the list went on and on. That's why he didn't want to waste a day. Other people could take their sweet time and spend two plus years dating before getting engaged and then another two planning a perfect wedding, but he and Steve didn't have that luxury.

It was a good thing Bucky's semester was busy as hell, with coursework on top of soccer, because the constant activity gave him less time to miss Steve. With soccer games almost every weekend from September to November, which he and Josiah were required to attend despite not playing alongside their able-bodied teammates, he didn't get a chance to visit Brooklyn, and Steve didn't have time to come down to see him. Some weeks, the best they got was half an hour of FaceTime.

His status as a Paralympic gold medalist and Espy award winner turned him into somewhat of a celebrity on campus. Bucky found he sort of despised all the attention, especially when it took the form of girls from the women's soccer team hitting on him. Either they didn't know he was engaged, or they didn't care. He turned down countless invitations to parties and tried futilely to remain inconspicuous when walking alone around campus. Unfortunately, his silhouette was rather distinct and there was nothing he could do about it.

Even with his resistance to fame, there was no way in hell he could say no to the opportunity that presented itself to him and Josiah at the end of the season. Under Armour was about to launch a new adaptive line, including an option to purchase only one shoe or glove, sneakers with collapsible heels for ease of sliding on and off without retying, and pants with zippers up the legs for ease of fitting over a prosthetic foot or orthotic. They wanted Under Armour Adaptive to sponsor Amputeam. Josiah and Bucky may or may not have spent five minutes literally jumping for joy around their room, to the point where they got a noise complaint from their neighbors.

Once they accepted, they received a date, time, and location for a photoshoot to show off all the gear. Bucky couldn't believe his eyes at the half-studio, half-soccer field setup they had going on. He strongly resisted the urge to squeal like a child. He'd gladly have done this for free, but Under Armour was paying them an amount he was embarrassed to admit.

Their first instructions as first-time athleticwear models: "Have fun with it."

"Fun is our specialty," Josiah proclaimed.

They started with stills, saving the action shots for last so they wouldn't get all sweaty until the end. After the Sports Illustrated cover, Bucky was more accustomed to this sort of thing than Josiah, but he caught on quickly. Bucky was obsessed with the collapsible heeled sneakers. He wore out the back of his shoes so quickly sliding them on and off without untying the laces, but these were specifically designed for just that. Josiah grew equally infatuated with the zippered pants. Bucky understood how much he appreciated it; when Josiah wore his prosthetic, it sometimes took him several minutes just to get his pants over the fake foot. He was also pleased to note the glove had an extra flap to help him pull it on with his teeth. Whoever designed all this really knew what they were doing.

Action shots proved to be right up their alley. The two of them had actually done this sort of thing before at the request of Amputeam followers, and collections of soccer pics were some of their most-liked posts. To save time, they had two photographers going at once: one on Josiah and one on Bucky as the former shot soccer balls at the latter. By the end of it, Bucky was almost as exhausted as after a full game. The Under Armour execs told them they got everything they needed, and they couldn't wait to share this with the world.

"I know a lot of people are going to really appreciate this," Josiah said. "The number of times I've heard our teammates complain about buying cleats is…uncountable."

"Yes. We should have gotten on this sooner, but it took a lot to convince some of the higher-ups that there's actually a market for these things."

"Disabled people are the largest minority in the world," Bucky reminded him. "One in five."

"Exactly. And every athlete deserves gear that suits their needs."

Only as he walked away did Bucky finally notice his limp and the glint of a metal ankle above his left foot. Bucky looked forward to working with these people for however long this sponsorship continued.

~0~

"Listen Steve, if we're actually going to do this whole wedding thing, I have one condition that absolutely must be met before the big day," Bucky announced. It was Thanksgiving break, and they finally got to see each other in person after months apart.

"This whole wedding thing? Is that what you're calling it?" Steve retorted.

"Yes."

"Alright, what's your condition?"

"We have to take a dance lesson."

"We? Are you sure you don't mean just me?" Steve asked teasingly.

"No, I don't just mean you. But I love how accepting you are of the fact that dance is not one of your strong suits. I think we should take lessons together, maybe find someone who knows what to do with this," he explained, nodding towards his left side.

"Okay." Steve paused, and a sheepish expression appeared on his face. "What would you say if I told you I already got us free dance lessons?"

"Are you serious?"

"As you said, I accept the fact that dance is not my strong suit. I already booked a couple for me, and I'm sure she'd be willing to teach both of us at once."

"She? Who's this saint of a woman willing to give you free dance lessons? Does she know how god awful you are?"

"Definitely. She's seen me dance before."

"For goodness' sake, just tell me who it is."

"Natasha agreed to help us out."

"Nat? But…she can't dance anymore, can she?"

"She can't dance ballet, or anything that's hard on the ankles. But basic ballroom is well within her capabilities."

"Does she even know ballroom?"

"She will before our first lesson. She offered to teach me as soon as we announced our engagement, said she'd do some research."

"Wow. That's nice of her."

"The only thing she asked in return was that we make sure there's good vodka," Steve explained with a laugh.

"I think we should just let her pick it out. I don't know anything about liquor."

"That's exactly what I was thinking."

"You know," Bucky began. He'd been thinking about this since they decided on a date, but had yet to come up with any suggestions. "If we're really going all in on this dance thing, don't you think we should have a first song picked out? Isn't that an important wedding tradition?"

"Yeah. We should pick something meaningful to us."

"Okay. Any idea what that might be? We're not the type of couple that already has their song."

"I'll have to think about it. There's so much to do, choosing a first dance song hasn't been very high on my priority list."

"That's okay. We have time. Who knows, maybe even Natasha's tutelage will fail to help you and we'll scrap the whole idea."

~0~

They had their first lesson during winter break. Natasha was here in the US for nursing school and made her way to Brooklyn to teach them in the Barnes' living room while Bucky's parents were away in Wisconsin for the weekend. She arrived fifteen minutes early with a roll of masking tape.

"Steve's not even here yet," Bucky informed her. She barely even listened to him as she barreled past him and into the living room. He'd moved some furniture around to give them more space, but it still wasn't much. Natasha stared disdainfully at it for a few moments before she nodded and avowed, "I can make this work."

"Thank you so much for offering to do this," Bucky said.

"I am doing us all a favor," she replied. "Nobody wants to see you fail. Especially on your wedding day."

Bucky supposed that was as good an argument as any to justify her goodwill. He left her to tape squares on the floor when Steve's knock sounded. He was dressed in sweatpants and a tee shirt, and already looked slightly out of breath. "Did you run here?" Bucky questioned.

"Yeah," Steve replied. "Thought it would make a good warm-up."

"It does not," Natasha stated.

Steve shrugged, a bewildered expression on his face. Bucky shook his head and together they returned to the living room. "I like what you've done with your hair," Steve told Nat. Bucky hadn't noticed until now, but the ends of her French braid were dyed blonde instead of their usual red.

"Thank you." She wasted no time in getting them started. "Have you picked a song yet?"

"No."

"Okay. We can do the basic steps of a few things with different tempos. Once you've chosen, we'll focus on one that matches it."

Bucky barely understood what she was talking about. Neither did Steve. Natasha glanced up at their poorly-disguised confusion. "So you're even more clueless than I thought. That's okay, I can work with that. All music has tempo, and there are different rhythms for different songs. The step pattern of different types of ballroom corresponds to specific tempo."

"Okay."

"Sit down."

They obeyed.

"I am going to play a piece, and I want you to tap your finger on your knee to the beat. Easy enough?"

"Yeah," Bucky said. Steve, on the other hand, looked uncertain. They all knew he had absolutely no natural sense of rhythm. This would be interesting. Natasha pulled out her phone and played some classical piece Bucky didn't recognize. He tried his best to match the rhythm, and she nodded at him approvingly. She told Steve to watch her and try to match her tempo.

"Do you hear it?" she asked.

"Maybe?"

"Okay. Try to keep that rhythm going when I stop."

Steve managed to keep on time for five or six beats before he drifted off again. The cutest part: he didn't even notice that he'd lost it. Natasha looked at Bucky in exasperation, and he merely shrugged. There was not much they could do to fix Steve's broken internal metronome. Finally, he noticed their faces indicated he was not performing the task correctly and stopped tapping his finger immediately.

"I'll practice," he promised.

"As long as one of you has it, things should be okay. But the most important thing you have to figure out is which one of you is going to lead and which is going to follow."

"Bucky should lead," Steve said in the same instant Bucky said, "Steve should lead."

"We've just established that I have no sense of rhythm, and you want me leading you?" Steve asked.

"I guess that's a good point. But I like following you."

"That's cute, but if you follow him with rhythm like that you'll dance straight to hell," Natasha said blatantly. Bucky was offended on Steve's behalf, but Steve found the remark hilarious.

"I think that's her advising you to be the leader," he said.

"Okay. But doesn't the leader usually hold hands with his left?"

"Yes, but we can reverse it. Stand up and face each other."

Steve stood first, and Bucky followed. They planted themselves on the squares Nat had taped to the floor. She walked a complete circle around them, gaze traveling from their feet to their heads and back again. "I said stand up," she repeated.

Bucky and Steve exchanged a glance of complete confusion.

"You stand like you're eighty years old. Straighten up. Grow two inches."

Bucky knew it had been years since Natasha took a ballet class, but evidently the influence of Russian ballet teachers was not something that dwindled with time. Even her accent was thicker than usual. He could tell she was enjoying herself, bossing them around. She was good at it, too, stern but not angry. Steve pulled his shoulders back and straightened up, and Bucky did the same. Natasha tsked, but didn't chastise them further.

"Bucky, are you comfortable with Steve's hand on your left shoulder?" she asked.

"Yeah, of course." The nerve endings in his stump were more sensitive than anywhere else on his body, but he was way past being squeamish about things coming into contact with it.

"Since Bucky doesn't have an arm on this side to reciprocate, it's going to be entirely up to you to maintain this distance on this side." Natasha urged them to step a bit closer as Steve rested his hand on what remained of Bucky's shoulder. Without prompting, they reached out and laced their fingers together on the other side. "Not quite. You should hold them like this." She turned Bucky's hand to the side and instructed Steve to place his four fingers between Bucky's thumb and index finger, his thumb outside Bucky's. It felt surprisingly more natural than he initially thought it would.

"We'll start with a waltz because it's the easiest. The most important thing you need to know is this pattern: right left right, left right left. Sound doable?"

"I think so," Steve said hesitantly. "Can you show us?"

"Yes. That's what the boxes are for. Stand on the back left corner and watch my feet."

Steve and Bucky each stood on their squares and glued their eyes to Natasha's feet. As she stepped, she repeated the pattern aloud, "Left right left," as she stepped forward, side, and together. Then, "Right left right," as she traveled back, side, and back together again. She did it again, and this time Bucky tried to follow along. He managed it at this pace, but Steve got ahead of himself and stepped back with his left instead of bringing his feet together, leaving him hopelessly lost when it came time to continue. Bucky resisted the urge to laugh at him. His fiancé was unfairly gifted in all other endeavors: he'd been amazing at art long before he took classes for it, he could read a fun fact or statistic only once and practically have it memorized for life, he could make anybody calm and comfortable within minutes of chatting with them no matter how high-strung they'd been at the onset of the conversation, and he somehow managed to look like a fucking superhero even on anti-rejection medication that was notorious for degrading muscle tissue. But if he somehow ended up in a hypothetical situation in which his life depended on dancing? The bastard would be dead in a second.

It wasn't for lack of trying, though. Steve was definitely trying. Natasha stopped and turned around to watch them. She looked at Bucky and nodded approvingly, but when she turned to Steve her expression could only be described as disappointed yet amused. Bucky stepped in to save him from further embarrassment and suggested, "Maybe we should try it together."

Natasha agreed, and helped them find the frame position they'd practiced earlier. "Now, Bucky, since you are leader, you start with your left foot forward. Steve, you start right foot back." She walked a circle around them and moved Steve a half step to Bucky's right. As Nat counted them in, Bucky leaned slightly forward to remind Steve which direction to go and stepped forward with his left foot. Steve stepped back, and in the correct direction sideways, but once again he forgot the feet together part and skipped right to stepping forward. Right onto Bucky's toes.

"Sorry!" he gasped. Luckily, they were both in just socks, so it didn't even hurt.

"It's okay," Bucky assured him. "You'll get it eventually. We have time."

"Run it again," Natasha instructed. They reset their position, and she began counting again. Steve managed to get it right for four counts of three, but only by staring down at their feet. "Excellent," Natasha commended. "Try it a few more times like that and then see if you can do it with decent posture."

"My lack of a straight spine is killing you, isn't it?"

"Uchitel would have banished you to the wall for the rest of class already."

"Banished to the wall?"

"Wall is flat. Helps posture."

"What's the longest time someone's spent on the wall?" Bucky asked jokingly.

"Forty minutes."

"Wait, are you serious?"

"Yes. Forty minutes."

Steve whistled.

"Did it fix her posture?"

Natasha nodded. "Now run it again."

They resumed the position and waited for her count. Once they'd successfully waltzed fluently for several counts in a row, she switched them from verbal counting to music. Bucky could hear the beats in the classical piece, but without even looking at him he knew Steve couldn't. Despite this, he was still able to keep pace with Bucky. They practiced for another twenty minutes, and he only stepped on Bucky's toes twice more.

"Considering what I've seen of your abilities before, I am pleasantly surprised," Natasha conceded when the song ended and they finally stopped dancing.

"I'll take it," Steve said happily.

"Next time, we'll do tango."

"Sounds like a plan. We'll try to have a song picked out by then," Bucky said.

"Great."

"Thanks again for offering to do this," Steve said.

"My pleasure."

"Seriously, Nat, you're the sole reason we're not going to make fools of ourselves at this wedding."

Natasha put a hand on his shoulder and looked him dead in the eyes. "You will still be made to look a fool," she told him earnestly. "Just not by your dance. It is a wedding, after all."

"I look forward to it."