Epilogue

Steve smiled to himself as he woke, pressing closer to his fiancé. He pressed his cold feet between Bucky's, feeling his partner jolt at the contact. Steve muffled a laugh, brushing a light kiss over his shaven jaw.

"Steve," Bucky whined, opening an eye to glare half-heartedly at him. "Too early."

Steve smiled innocently. "It's practically ten," he murmured, peppering his smooth jaw with kisses. This close he could still faintly smell the vanilla-and-woodsy blend of Bucky's favorite cologne. "Our wedding's in a few hours."

"No reason to rush," Bucky murmured. "We can make out like a couple of newlyweds and be late to our wedding if we want to." His sleepy grin was infectious.

"We aren't newlyweds just yet," Steve pointed out.

"What's the difference in a few hours?" Bucky murmured, sitting up on his arms.

"Your hair is a disaster," Steve teased, brushing a stray curl from his forehead. "You need the time just to get your hair ready."

Bucky rolled his eyes and pecked him. "You're lucky I love you."

"Some of us don't want to be late to their own wedding," Steve chided, pulling away. "I told you, you should have set an alarm."

Bucky sat up, yawning. "I told you I didn't need one. I've got you for that, babe," he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Steve.

Steve pulled back, making a face. "Morning breath!"

Bucky grinned at him. "I know you don't care. It's not my fault I don't get up at the crack of dawn to brush my teeth like somebody."

Steve raised an eyebrow. "Isn't it exactly that?"

Bucky got up, padding over to his suitcase to pull out a clean pair of underwear. Steve, for his part, admired the view. It was the second best view he'd had all day. Maybe by the end of the day, it would be third best, after he'd seen Bucky in his tux. "Not all of us like waking up before nine, Steve. Especially not on holidays, let alone holiday Sundays."

"You'd sleep your holiday away if I let you," Steve teased, getting off the bed.

"I would," Bucky said brightly, grinning at Steve, "and I'd love every minute of it."

Steve shook his head fondly. "We're going to be late."

"We won't!" Bucky promised, kissing Steve's cheek. "And good luck sneaking out of here without our friends noticing –also, remember if our marriage falls apart, I wasn't the one who decided to break wedding tradition."

"We've already broken almost every tradition known to man, one more won't kill us," Steve said, walking to the door.

People said it was bad luck for grooms to kiss on the eve of their wedding day; well, they'd spent most of last night kissing and then some. Last night had been their joint stag, as neither of them were interested in having a last night of freedom without the other. They'd had about six years too many of not being involved with each other and those had been some rough years. Clint and Sam had agreed to host the party provided both of them swore to keep their lips off –Clint had somehow managed to convince some hotel staff to watch their rooms in order to prevent any liplocking before the big day. It had not been easy sneaking into Bucky's room past the staff, but with a hefty tip and a solemn vow that he was in fact, not Steve Rogers, he was allowed in. Clint was probably going to be pissed, but Steve still remembered what he'd done on his anniversary so he figured they'd be square. Steve had stopped believing in fate and superstition a while back.

Steve crept out of Bucky's room and was wholly not prepared for the round of applause that greeted him. Steve let the door shut behind him with a heavy thud as he turned bright red. Clint, Phil and Sam were waiting for him. Clint had the perfect disappointed mother hen face Steve had ever seen –even if his eyes were a little on the murderous side; Phil at least appeared sleepy and apologetic where Sam's face was pure joy.

"Steve you've doomed your wedding!" Clint said, the disappointed scowl on his face not moving an inch.

"Congrats, I didn't think you had it in you," Sam teased, waggling his eyebrows. "I thought we were gonna find you curled up on your bed in misery at being away from your fiancé for so long."

Phil covered a yawn, somehow managing to look more apologetic. Steve wondered if Clint had dragged Phil out of bed for this confrontation.

"It'll take more that some kissing to doom my wedding, Clint," he explained patiently, electing to ignore Sam's commentary entirely. "I've kissed him enough, I should know by now."

Phil snorted a laugh, neatly sidestepping Clint's lighthearted swipe. "I should hope so," the older man replied, eyes dancing with mirth. "I think you can leave him alone now, you aren't going to get a rise out of him so easy."

Clint deflated, the mother hen act thankfully disappearing with it. "Way to ruin all the fun, Rogers."

"It won't be Rogers for much longer," Sam said gleefully. "Have you guys even decided what it's going to be?"

Steve rolled his eyes, unlocking his hotel room. "No, Sam, we're winging it. Completely and totally –I'll write my name first and then he gets to decide where he's hyphenating."

As Sarah Rogers' only son, there was no way Steve wasn't going to honor his family name. And Bucky, too, was an only son. They'd decided to hyphenate in order to honor their families, although Steve was pretty sure Bucky would have been fine adopting Steve's last name. Neither of them wanted to disappoint George or Winifred, who seemed especially keen on their son carrying the family legacy. During the wedding plan, they hadn't fought over a single thing except for how to hyphenate their surnames. Steve thought it should be Rogers-Barnes and Bucky thought it should be Barnes-Rogers and they'd spent months discussing it. To the point that if Sam, Peggy or Clint were around, the three of them were owed dinner for it. They'd ended up buying about four meals before they kept that discussion behind closed doors and under heavy quilts.

Sam followed him in while Clint headed into Bucky's room and Phil wandered off to get breakfast or more sleep, Steve wasn't sure which. He pulled out his suit and carefully laid it over his perfectly made bed. He hadn't slept a single night on his own since they'd gotten here.

"Steve, before you get dressed," Sam said, reaching into his pocket. "I know this isn't exactly traditional, but I thought…"

Steve turned to him, eyes wide.

"…maybe it was time to make your own tradition?" Sam said, pulling out a small box. He held it towards Steve.

Steve took the box, opening it gingerly. Inside was a pair of silver cufflink-lockets. Steve carefully slid the locket piece open and was surprised to see an elegantly cropped photo of his mother smiling. He checked the other locket and found it was a matching picture of his father's face, one he'd seldom seen.

"Sam," Steve said, awed and overwhelmed, "where did you get these?"

He'd never seen his mother look so young and fierce before. She was baring her teeth at the camera, more like she was growling and snapping at the photographer, strawberry curls pinned back from her face. And he was sure he'd never seen this picture of his father before, dressed casually in a leather jacket, his head tipped to the side and grinning easily. When Steve thought of his father, he only half-remembered a framed photograph that sat at his mother's bedside of a stern man in his military dress.

"I might have talked to some of the locals," Sam said. "Found this nice old couple who could remember a little girl by the name of Sarah and her folks, Sean and Brenna. Apparently your grandparents used to write letters all the time and these photographs got handed down. I made a copy, had them fitted…"

Steve set the cufflinks down delicately before rushing Sam, throwing his arms around his best friend. "Thank you," he whispered, heartfelt.

Sam chuckled. "Does this mean I get to be the best man?" he whispered, teasing. He hugged Steve back.

Steve laughed. "Well I guess you've earned it now," he joked, pulling back. "Thank you Sam."

"Come on, you better hurry and get ready or you'll be the one who's late."

"Bucky'll wait for me," Steve said, pulling his shirt off.

"Well if you're late, I won't, Riley and I've got a wine tasting date down the corner."

Steve snorted. "Figures my fiancé would wait for me, but my best man won't."

Sam laughed. "That's 'cause Bucky's had to wait for you before, and I ain't got time for that."

Getting dressed took twice as long as it otherwise would have, with Sam cracking jokes. Steve put the new cufflinks on, more grateful than he could say that his parents would be with him today. That he would have something of theirs –even if it was just a picture, to bring with him. The blue suit fit him perfectly, accentuating his narrow shoulders and tailoring his waist so it wasn't quite as skinny. He adjusted the silver tie carefully and pinned the white rose to his lapel. Steve combed through his hair quickly, working the gel through his fine hair until it was styled to his liking.

And then, they left his hotel room and started the walk through Rathfarnham. Clint and Sam had supposedly coordinated to make sure neither groom would see each other on the walk over, as though that would be too much for the fragile bonds of their soon-to-be marriage to handle. They'd weathered through miscommunications, misunderstandings, meddling family and an existential crisis to rival all other existential crisis –Steve knew it would take more than seeing his fiancé before the wedding to unravel everything they'd built together.

Steve saw Bucky just as he crested the hill to the small cathedral and his soon-to-be husband was breathtaking. Bucky's navy suit clung to his broad shoulders and arms and he walked with the stride of a powerful man. Definitely the best view he'd had all day. They walked in together, friends and family trailing behind them as they reached the altar. Steve wondered if it was the same church that his grandparents had gotten married in and he touched his mother's cufflink. The church wasn't full by any means, but the people who were with them made it worth everything. Peggy was in the front row, clutching a bouquet in her arms. Beside her, Daniel Sousa had an arm around her. Next to them was Bucky's family –Winifred and George, Rebecca and her husband and Aubree beside them. Tabby and Gideon hadn't been able to make it, between needing to manage the store and their toddler. They'd offered their congratulations and an early wedding present in apology for not being able to make it. Riley waved, a tissue box on his lap, watching them excitedly.

Sam and Riley had gotten married two years ago and they were still madly in love with each other. Peggy and Daniel had gotten married last year and all she'd said on the matter was that it was confidential. They'd renewed their vows in front of their friends and family though and it had been a lovely ceremony. Steve turned his focus back to his fiancé, resisting the urge to touch him. He couldn't wait to be married. Steve was too caught up in watching Bucky, in the emotions blooming between them to really pay attention to the minister's words.

"Do you James Buchanan Barnes take Steven Grant Rogers, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, till death do you part?"

"I do," Bucky said, easing the plain gold band onto Steve's ring finger. He let his touch linger, fingers catching between Steve's before drawing away.

"And do you, Steven Grant Rogers, take James Buchanan Barnes, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, in your free will, till death do you part?"

Steve felt his ears turn red and caught Bucky's cheeky grin along with a smattering of laughter from their friends and family. If there was one thing Bucky would never let Steve live down, it was his own self-doubt. It wasn't a secret between them or their friends.

"I do," Steve replied, sliding Bucky's ring onto his finger.

The minister smiled, closing his book with a quiet thud. "James, Steven, you may now kiss your husband."

Like an elastic band pulled snapping to freedom, Steve kissed his husband with barely restrained passion. He could feel Bucky respond in kind, dipping Steve. Their friends and family whooped and clapped, but Steve was barely aware of them. He'd forgotten that they were even there. His world was narrowed to Bucky's lips, to the throbbing waves of joy washing through their bond. They were married. Ten years to the day when Steve had saved Bucky's life, they were sealing their bond for the world to see.

"I now pronounce you man and man," the minister said, amusement heavy in his voice.

Bucky drew back, pulling Steve up. Steve laughed sheepishly, wrapping his arms around his husband in part to steady himself and partly just because he could.