[There are two things that bring people together - weddings and funerals. The Romanova-Barnes wedding somehow manages to blend the two.]

Florence Romanova-Barnes disliked weddings on principle. People spent too much, gestured too much, ate too much and drank too much. The whole traditional aspect of it confused her immensely and the dress code -

The dress code reminded her of strutting peacocks. The more expensive the dress or suit, the more people seemed to have to tell you the cost. There was also some kind of unwritten rule about turning up to a wedding in white. As though you were trying to upstage the bride. Florence had gleaned this and a few other boring things from a horrendous one hour and twenty-five minute episode of Keeping up with the Kardashians that she wasn't ever going to get back.

It was at least an hour to the wedding going ahead and she was bored, wandering around the church.

She disliked weddings. The entire ritual was too rigid - too set. It was not the way the world worked. And yet…

'Awww look at the cute little girl!'

Florence stiffened and turned to look up at a much older woman who seemed to be cooing at her. She was wearing way too much perfume and seemed to be almost weighed down by the huge brooch on her scarf as she bent to talk to her.

'You must love your little dress! So floaty and princessy!' Florence glanced down at her dress and then up at the older woman. She opened her mouth to say something but was immediately cut off by more cooing. 'Are your mummy and daddy getting married? You must be so excited!'

Excited? Hardly. They were doing paperwork before the big event. She didn't see the point in the ridiculous pageantry of getting married. She did understand the legal ramifications, of course. Florence was pretty sure that the only reason that Bucky and Natasha were getting married was to do with her; if either of them died it would be so much easier to gain assets and custody - but maybe that was her narcissism on show.

It wasn't as if they were even getting married under their own names - that would be too risky. Especially considering both had been born before 1950. They aged well.

Florence's eye was drawn magnetically to a leather strap that caught her eye as the shawl fell open in the old woman's attempts to bend down and grandmother someone else's child. It seemed wrong in crazy-old-lady's outfit. It was out of place in the crisp white shirt, nana-scarf and shawl. Why would an old lady need leather? To keep her girdle up? Fetishist?

No. Concealed-carry.

Seemed odd for an old church biddie. For her own protection? Or Mr Mittens? Either way, Florence was suspicious but unwilling to call her out on it - and there were ways. Starting with "You do have a strange bra mrs old lady - it's leather!" and ending with "Mom and dad are also buying concealed carry permits grandma, are you getting one too?" Loudly, with much child-like gusto - but that would draw unwanted attention to the situation in a way that would make it hard to predict the old woman's moves.

Maybe she should consult someone about this.

Uncle Steve wasn't here, neither were Uncle Tony or Uncle Clint. They were due to arrive in half an hour for final preparations. No super-spy, genius, or patriot to rely on right now. Where were mom and dad? Still wrestling with the formal attire?

'I need the toilet!' She announced with her best "I'm a kid, I can be rude if I want" voice before turning on her heel and walking away. A skip would be too nonchalant, a march would draw attention to a businesslike nature. So walking sedately seemed the best option.

The back church rooms smelled odd and had a looked after sense of shabby. Natasha - mom - was getting ready in one of these rooms, piled high with bibles and other assorted paraphernalia of organized religion. Her white dress was simple - but that somehow enhanced, rather than detracted from her form. Mom could and would look good in anything. Even clothes that could have looked like they belonged to someone homeless. She spotted her as she stared into the mirror to attach her earrings. 'There you are.' She commented. 'I hope you haven't been getting your dress filthy -'

'There's been a possible perimeter breach.' Florence warned.

Natasha paused, but Florence knew her mother. She would take her daughter's warning seriously. 'Tell me.'

'Old woman, dressed like a churchgoer. Has a concealed carry.' Florence answered promptly. 'Not sure of make and model but she has one. That or a serious leather fetish.'

Natasha frowned into the mirror - probably running the same variables that she herself had run. 'Just one?' Obviously this was not a surprise to her.

'One identified.' She answered. 'I need instruction. I'm sure I can eliminate her quietly but chances are that she isn't alone and taking her out would alert her coworkers.'

'Go and tell your father.' Natasha decided.

Florence nodded and moved across the hallway to her father's designated room. This one held benches of various descriptions of broken that the church seemed unwilling to throw away - if only for spare parts use later. He was in a pinstripe suit and was adjusting his tie with preoccupation. To avoid suspicion in regards to his metal arm, he'd chosen to wear black gloves for the occasion. He paused and frowned when the little redhead entered the room. 'Florence what are you-'

'There's a possible perimeter breach. I've been instructed to inform you.' She announced.

Like Natasha before, Bucky frowned but accepted the judgement of his young girl. 'Tell me.'

'Old woman with a concealed carry. Passing herself off as a church associate. Unknown make or model of weapon.'

Dad seemed to chew on that for a while before he reached down for the bag he'd brought some essentials in. He straightened up as he screwed a silencer onto the pistol in his hand. 'They never give up.'

'Who?' Florence asked. Patently, her father had some idea of who was playing the great game of silly buggers this time but she herself was clueless as to who. They had a lot of enemies - and she knew when she said a lot - she could write a list as long as her father's arm.

'I'm going to bet this is the Soviets. It smells like the Soviets and the Red Room.' He grunted. 'Take this to your mother.' He handed her the newly silenced pistol and began to dig around in the bag some more.

Florence stood there with the gun, peering around him. 'How much weaponry did you pack in there?' She asked quizzically.

'Not as much as I wanted.' Winter Soldier huffed. 'Your mother made me leave behind the grenades in case they detonated on my suit.'

She accepted that little bit of wisdom and walked across the hall again.

'He brought the pistols with silencers? Ugh.' Natasha bemoaned. 'Of course he brought the pistols with silencers.' She grumbled as she took the weapon from the small flower girl.

'He was upset you didn't let him bring the grenades.' Florence added as she handed it off.

'Why did I agree to marry that idiot?' Natasha murmured as she checked the chambered round.

'Because the idiot had the forethought to bring weaponry to a wedding. His wedding.'

'Good point.' Natasha agreed and swept out of the room.

She met her husband to be in the hallway with his own pistol. He handed Florence a weapon as well and remarked 'Isn't it bad luck to see the bride before the actual wedding?' With an easy, smug half-grin. 'You look beautiful, sokrovishche.'

Natasha snorted. 'You're loving this, aren't you?' She commented.

'Maybe, just a little.' He replied with a laugh before it fell. 'Soviets?'

'Does it matter?' Natasha commented. 'They're here to kill us, obviously. I hardly think we should bother finding out whom it is this time.'

Bucky nodded. 'There will most probably be someone in the belfry with a sniper rifle.' He mused, obviously thinking ahead to the enemy's tactics.

'I'm not going up there in this dress.' Natasha warned. 'It's white.'

'This suit is too restricting in a confined space.' He pointed out.

Both of them turned to look at Florence, who had busied herself checking her gun and clip. 'I'll relieve the sniper of his post.' She said quietly.

'Good.' Natasha agreed, as though sending her little girl up a perilously long way to assassinate a man with a sniper rifle and steal it for their own gains was normal - to the Romanova-Barnes family it practically was. This was their life. 'Assuming Florence is as right about the old woman as you are of the Soviet connection, there will be no more than three assassins walking the floor.' Which made practical and tactical sense to Florence. One to watch the other two and few people to get in each others way. The fact that they had not come in guns blazing and seemed to be trying to conceal their identities meant that this was meant to be a quietly planned assassination. The old biddy was one, but that meant the other two were unknowns. Everyone in this quiet parish church was going to have to be heavily scrutinized as a possible hostile.

'This is not how I expected my wedding day to go.' Natasha sighed.

'Really?' Bucky asked in surprise. 'I had a suspicion that it would from the moment I asked you to marry me.'

'A hope, more like it.' Natasha bit back playfully.

He chuckled lowly. 'I'll try not to get blood on such a beautiful dress.'

'If you do, the next streak of blood on there will be your own James Barnes.' Natasha warned him.

With that, the three split up. Mantis took the Belfry, Widow chose the upper floors and balconies overlooking the church alter and Soldier began to walk the floor in search of biddy and her cohorts.

Florence had always assumed that weddings were boring little affairs of formality, but her parents own wedding was proving to be interesting. Maybe it was true they weren't all the same frivolously expensive pageants that she had thought they were - or maybe it was just their family. Either way, she was no longer dreading the process.

A/N: I find this one particularly ironic to write as I am currently planning my own wedding! (Promise it won't be this bad - unless alcohol is involved somewhere.) Which explains what I've been doing for the past month. I've also been drawn into another one of my projects and started a new hobby. Busy year so far! A guest gave me the prompt of Natasha and Bucky getting married, Florence as the flower girl and russian assassins. What's a wedding without assassins? Anyway, Guest, I hope you enjoy it!