4312 words
Since they now had a date set for the wedding, the pressure was on to get busy planning it. That meant that there was no time to spend gaping at the drawing Bucky had decided to hang on the wall by the bed, or at Bucky as he did some sort of upside-down yoga, Punk balanced on his foot.
After breakfast, they hit the bridal stores, and Steve wondered if Bucky had chosen his all-white outfit because of that. He had the loose, flowy white t-shirt dress on, the rabbit fur coat, a white glove, pearl jewelry, white cat eye sunglasses, a plain white purse that Steve was sure was very expensive, and a pair of white tights and pointy alligator boots that Steve hadn’t seen before, and he was once again amazed at how Bucky could fit all of his clothes in the closet and under the bed. The only part of him that wasn’t white were his lips, which were a deep, dark red.
The lady that greeted them when they’d walked into the first bridal store did a double take when she heard Bucky's decidedly male voice. She quickly recovered and helped them search for a style of dress, making conversation and getting disinterested, vague replies from Bucky and Steve, who followed his lead.
“I’ll need the dress in four days. Is that going to be a problem?” he wondered, going through the small selection of dresses she had retrieved from the back that met his criteria, left shoulder and arm completely covered, leg slit, nothing poufy. His red lips twisted to the side; apparently, he wasn’t satisfied.
The lady stuttered a little in shock. “Four days?” she echoed, sounding like they were crazy for waiting to go dress shopping so close to the wedding date. Bucky glanced at her, looking very unimpressed. She cleared her throat. “I'm afraid our tailers are too swamped. Everyone wants to get married in the summer. I'm sorry, but we can’t do it in that time period.”
Bucky left without a word then, and Steve shot her an apologetic smile as he rushed after him. He was lighting a cigarette by the time Steve exited the shop. He took a long drag, blowing it out in a heavy, sharp sigh.
“There’s more places to shop at,” Steve said, attempting to cheer him up. Bucky only snarled at him.
“They’ll all be busy like that, and I doubt that any amount of money I throw at them will fix it.”
Steve didn’t say anything for a second. “Oh, hey, I want to pay for your dress, remember? I don’t think it’s fair to make you pay for your own wedding dress. I don’t mind.”
Bucky turned to him then, his brows drawn together in frustration. Steve shot him a small smile. He softened then, and then took out another cigarette, pressing the end to the already lit one, and then passed Steve the first one stained with lipstick. Steve took it wordlessly, sticking it in his mouth, an indirect kiss, grimacing at the taste. Bucky watched him for a moment before he finally spoke. “Only if you let me buy your wedding suit and all the trimmings – shoes, cufflinks, tie, handkerchief, everything.”
“Deal,” Steve said immediately, resisting the urge to cough a little. He knew he’d be paying more for Bucky than Bucky would be paying for him, but it didn’t matter to him.
“I shouldn’t have fucking worn that black dress when you proposed to me,” Bucky groaned, leaning his head back to look up at the sky. “I’ll never be able to find something as good as that – that will live up to that one, that you’ll like as much as that one.” He sounded miserable all of a sudden, and Steve stubbed his cigarette out before he took Bucky into his arms in a loose hug.
“Hey, I’ll love any dress you choose. I’ll love it even more than that black one because this will be your wedding dress that you’ll marry me in.” His voice sounded giddy to his own ears. Bucky smiled a tiny bit, and Steve continued. “I bet they have more of that designer somewhere in this city. Or a designer like them.”
Bucky smiled wider then, and Steve felt proud of himself for cheering him up. “Okay, let’s go looking for them,” he said, breaking away from the wall and grabbing Steve’s hand.
Dress shopping went easier after that, and Steve had to cheer Bucky up with each visit that they left emptyhanded, frustrated and snarling with rage, reminding Steve of Punk. He didn’t dare voice the comparison, not wanting Bucky to actually punch him.
On store number seven – lucky number seven – they hit pay dirt and found something that made Bucky’s eyes widen behind his sunglasses. It made Steve’s eyes widen too, seeing it with new eyes after Bucky reacted to it because Steve thought they were all lovely. It was white, asymmetrical and had a leg slit. Intricate silver rhinestone beading dotted all the outer edges, more concentrated on the bust, slit, and shoulder, where there was a cluster of them in a heart shape, trailing down the left sleeve.
“I love it, Buck,” he told him thickly, imagining Bucky standing at the altar in it.
Bucky beamed at him and then darted in to kiss him briefly, before he withdrew and shoved Steve out of the room so he could get dressed.
He wanted the first time Steve saw him in it to be when they were getting married, so Steve didn’t get to see Bucky model it for him, something he tried and failed greatly not to be disappointed by.
Bucky’s happy smile when he came out of the dressing room with it draped over his arm more than made up for it, though.
The saleslady saw them then and came over, reminding them about the veil and left to go get it. Bucky’s eyes widened again and he ducked back into the room to change back into the dress, shooting Steve the finger when he started laughing at Bucky.
The saleslady came back with the veil, slipping into the room after Bucky admitted her inside after a few moments, probably making sure his arm was covered.
After Bucky saw the veil and dress together in action, he texted Steve, telling him that he had decided to get the shop to fit him for the dress while he was there, killing two birds on their list with one stone, having persuaded them to tailor it in four days.
Steve happily paid for the whole thing, seeing how widely Bucky was smiling, in bliss.
They went to a little café called The Love Spot afterwards, which was filled with couples at small little tables, and to Steve’s happy surprise, they weren’t the only gay couple in there.
The food was real swell, but Steve felt huge sitting at such a small table that couldn’t hold their many plates, like a bull in a China shop with his wide shoulders, and breathed a sigh of relief when they left.
They went shoe shopping at the bridal stores after that, now that they had the dress, as Bucky explained to him when Steve wondered why they didn’t buy them when they were there the first time. Bucky consulted the photos he had taken of his dress on his pink phone as he looked, scrutinizing each pair of shoes as he tried to determine if they would align with whatever vision he had of his complete wedding outfit in his head. He kept it tilted away from Steve, to his amusement. “I’m not gonna look.”
Bucky only shot him a suspicious glare, his eyes narrowed. “Hmph,” he responded, clearly not believing him, which was probably wise. Steve didn’t blame him, thinking back to last night as he practically begged Bucky to marry him, his cheeks heating at the memory, at his impatience and his lack of self-control.
Steve pulled his phone out to distract himself from temptation, clicking on the twitter app.
Which was a mistake, he realized about two seconds later, as he stared at the trending section, not having immediately navigated to Bucky’s account like he did yesterday.
It was about their tweets last night, and their particular relationship. Someone had raised the question of why Steve only followed Juicy Bottom Bitch and no one else, and it had been retweeted over a thousand times.
The much more popular trending topic was the fact that Steve had come out in the retweet post two days ago, and then when he had admitted his love for Bucky and his admission that they would have gotten married now if he was still alive, right before JBB had posted a tweet saying that he was getting married. Cue the conspiracy theories that Juicy Bottom Bitch was Bucky reincarnated or something. Why else would Captain America follow him? one user had pointed out, and Steve hearted the post, glad that Bucky had privated his likes for him. Most of the people theorizing believed that JBB was definitely his fiancé, if not Bucky. Those that believed JBB was Bucky were the more scarce of opinions widely held among their combined twitter followers about the mystery surrounding them.
Sure, people were angry at him professing his love for his longtime presumed pal, but Steve scrolled past those posts, not giving them his time – wisely, for once.
Bucky had created another post, Steve discovered when he came across someone who had retweeted Bucky.
It added more fuel to the conspiracy theory that he and JBB were together, seeing the first line of it.
You taste like the fourth of July *fireworks emoji, American flag emoji, bald eagle emoji* malt liquor on your breath, my, my *whisky emoji, whiskey emoji, whiskey emoji* I love you and I do know why *heart eyes emoji, smiling face with hearts emoji, winky face kiss with heart emoji* you can be the boss, daddy, you can be the boss *lip print emoji, bomb emoji, heart emoji*
There was a long string of them on a separate line and Steve snorted at the excess. Bucky must have been really happy to use that many; he loved emojis. (The contact name for him in Bucky’s phone was the blond haired, blue eyed man, the American flag, a bald eagle, a star, the gay pride flag, the horse and the eggplant [to his undying embarrassment], a peach, the sweating face, the wobbly smile face, the face with hearts, the two men kissing under a heart, the top arrow, and the rainbow.)
Steve squinted at the post. He was almost certain they were lyrics to a song that Bucky liked. Donna El Day or someone like that.
Steve looked up at him and smiled softly. Bucky's tongue was peeking through his red, red, red lips as he studied a shoe in his hand, inspecting it rigorously. Seeming to come to a conclusion, he tossed it away with a disgusted scowl.
“No luck?” Steve wondered, getting a terse shake of Bucky's head in reply as he picked up another pair to inspect.
Steve approached him and took the shoes out of his hands. “C’mon, Buck, let’s take a break and do somethin’ fun.” He stroked Bucky’s wrists, his thumb catching on the little bow that Steve had tied his Tiffany ribbon into.
Bucky sighed wearily, giving him a small smile. “Like what? I mean, we really have to get this stuff taken care of.”
Steve wracked his brain for something that would be relaxing and fun and get his mind off the wedding business, yet still be productive. He lit up with an idea.
“Punk!”
Bucky blinked at him then shook his head, his eyes crinkling as he chuckled, “What?”
“Come on, let’s go take Punk to the pet store to get him a flower girl/ring bearer outfit. We can always go get a baby dress if we find nothing suitable enough there.” Hopefully. Punk was a very small dog, and Steve wasn’t quite sure they made dresses small enough.
Bucky perked up, and quickly followed. They went back to the RV and retrieved Punk and the Birkin bag, which Bucky complained about ruining his all-white bridal theme, making Steve smirk.
Bucky was adorable, fawning over dresses and suits in the huge pet store they found.
“We should get a suit, for the ring bearing role,” Bucky told him, and Steve nodded in agreement.
“We should get a pink dress for the flower girl role, though,” he said a few minutes later, contradicting himself.
He seemed torn between what to dress Punk in and Steve bit his lip, trying to think. He looked among the little dog clothes hanging up on the selves, and he pointed at the pink suit. “Well, what about that? You can buy a dress and sew the bottom of the dress onto it to make it more… dressy.” He swallowed, second guessing himself. Bucky wouldn’t want to do that because it was stupid and dumb and-
Bucky suddenly pulled him into a kiss, obliterating Steve’s mental diatribe of self-deprecating thoughts. “Steve, you're wonderful,” he breathed when he pulled away, making Steve’s cheeks grow hot.
On a high, they decided to go back to the bridal stores to continue the search for shoes.
It was less painful than Steve worried it would be. “Remember, I’ll love anything you choose, even if they’re bright orange clogs,” he reminded Bucky as they entered the first shop, which probably had a lot to do with easing the tension.
While he searched, Bucky instructed him to, ‘I dunno, tweet something cute’,’ which Steve did, with a sort of sadistic glee, adding fuel to the conspiracy fire.
Wouldn't it be nice if we were older? Then we wouldn't have to wait so long. And wouldn't it be nice to live together… in the kind of world where we belong? Oh, we could be married (oh, we could be married) And then we'd be happy (and then we'd be happy) Oh, wouldn't it be nice? You know it seems the more I think about it… it only makes it worse to live without it… but I’ll think about it.
He had to look up the lyrics to make sure he had them right, and copy and paste them into the post and edit them to fit, feeling awful sentimental all the while, but once Steve hit tweet, it felt like the right thing to do.
‘#OdetoJamesBarnes’ was the name of the topic when the tweet hit the low thousands in retweets, and Steve smiled down softly at his phone, his heart panging.
He watched Bucky pause and rifle through his Birkin to get his phone out, and within a few moments, he saw Bucky retweet him, already having gone to Bucky’s blog.
*eyes emoji* How awful sentimental, Tinman. *smiling face with hearts*
It was tame, compared to his other tweets, and all the more sweeter for it. Steve beamed up at him, watching with amusement as Bucky turned back around, his cheeks a telling pink.
The fallout to that tweet was like pouring gasoline on the conspiracy fire.
It was retweeted several thousand times within a few seconds, and Steve went through the retweets and replies with morbid curiosity.
Bucky surprised him when he took the phone out of his hand, and Steve looked up at him.
“I found some shoes,” he told Steve, smiling a little. Steve grinned widely up at him.
“That’s great, Buck! That’s the big stuff outta the way. Now all that’s left is… jewelry and shopping for my ring and suit.” He swallowed, suddenly daunted.
Bucky chuckled at his reaction. “Nah, I’ve got the perfect diamond jewelry set I’ve been waiting for the proper occasion to break out. It even has a tiara. So that’s a load off your plate. As a matter of fact,” he said as he slipped a hand into Steve’s hair, smiling widely, “you're done with buying the big shit for the wedding. All that’s left for you is the bouquet, which won't cost anything at all, practically.”
Steve flushed in shame, once again feeling inferior next to Bucky’s means, even though he knew Bucky didn’t mean to make him feel that way. He couldn’t lavish him with gifts like he so desperately wanted to. He shot Bucky a smile, making him frown and then soften, probably figuring out what was bothering him.
He leaned down to kiss Steve so very gently, murmuring against his lips. “You’ve already given me the best gift of all: your love. Everything else is just noise.” A prickle of tears stung at Steve’s eyes and he blinked them back, lost for words.
He paid for Bucky's shoes despite his earlier words and they left to get lunch in one of the casinos, and to do a little gambling, which was bewildering to Steve, who grew up in the great depression and still balked at spending even a penny more than he absolutely had to. (Spending money on Bucky was different, of course.) Bucky had always been a little cavalier with money, especially when it came to his dates or Steve, even when they were dirt poor, but now, with all his funds, it was like the urge to spend had been dialed up to a thousand. Steve reminded himself that Bucky could afford it, that whatever amount he decided to spend was like a penny to him, and that he had the right to use his liberated-from-hydra funds in whatever way he liked. Steve still blanched a little when Bucky pulled three stacks of ten thousand dollars out of his purse and laid them down on the table carelessly, making murmurs go around the table.
Thirty thousand dollars. Jesus Christ.
They played craps, blackjack, and roulette, which didn’t go very well, to Bucky’s amusement and Steve’s horror. Then he joined the poker games – five card draw, five card stud, seven card stud, and Texas hold ‘em – where his luck turned around, leaving him cleaning out the pot each time, winning back all his money and then double, his poker face as hard as the diamond on his finger. Once he had won, he walked away, much to the malcontent of the players that were groaning and yelling for him to come back, don’t be a coward.
Steve rankled at the comments, but Bucky grabbed his arm before he could get into a fight and dragged him away, frog marching him with his arm behind his back.
“Get in the car, Steve,” he growled out, manhandling him into the driver’s seat and giving him the keys. It was dusk now, the sun setting and casting everything in a warm glow.
Steve obediently sat down, surprised that Bucky was going to let him drive, and started the car. He hadn’t yet – the RV or the car. Bucky walked around and took off his jacket, exposing his bare right arm, the muscular line of it that drew Steve’s eye.
“Don’t wreck this car or I’ll wreck you,” Bucky idly threatened him as he got in, the heated look in his eyes telling Steve exactly how he’d do it, making him gulp.
He waited for Steve to carefully back out of the parking space and exit the garage before he put his jacket over his head and bent down over Steve’s lap.
“Woah, Buck!” he yelled in surprise, swerving a little. Bucky undid his belt and pants, pulling Steve’s dick out. He mouthed at the sides of it, and Steve groaned, his whole face going scalding hot even as he swelled under the touch.
“You bought me the nicest wedding dress and shoes, Daddy,” Bucky said coyly as he pulled off. “Let me show you my appreciation.”
That wasn’t enough warning and Steve shouted when Bucky suddenly swallowed him down to the root, tightening his hands on the steering wheel. He immediately loosened his grip, not wanting to dent it and incur the wrath of Bucky, the little shit who was giving him a blowjob in a fucking convertible.
At least the top was up.
Like he could read his fucking mind, Bucky reached for the button, fumbling around until he was able to trigger the mechanism, and Steve watched helplessly as the top lowered, revealing him even more, since the windows were already clear glass, none of the tinted kind he’d find in modern cars. Bucky sucked at him harshly, making Steve choke, thoroughly distracting him.
Traffic was a goddamned nightmare, and Steve positively suffered through Bucky stroking, sucking, licking, and nibbling on him, all while Steve was conscious of all the eyes that the car attracted.
He fought not to groan or tense up or throw his head back, anything that could draw attention to the fact that Steve was receiving probably the best blowjob of his life.
“Hey, nice car,” a man’s voice called out, and Steve whipped his head toward the voice, absolutely horrified someone was talking to him. It was a man in the black sedan next to him, his passenger window rolled down, looking appreciatively at the pink Cadillac.
“Thanks,” he said, strangled and trying desperately not to show how affected he was. It would be even more suspicious if he hadn’t responded. Bucky gave his cock a ferocious suck then and Steve tensed up his entire body so he wouldn’t tip him off, his face spasming, his jaw clenched shut. He didn’t know what his facial expression looked like. Probably anger or fury.
“It’s a Cadillac, right?”
Oh my god, he was still talking.
“Yep,” Steve answered, strained.
To his supreme frustration, the man continued, oblivious to the fuck off vibes Steve was sending him. “What model?”
Steve wanted to growl. He may have, in fact. “It’s a Cadillac series 62 convertible.”
“Isn’t that the car Elvis drove?” he wondered, quite stupidly. Steve felt his eye twitch. Bucky sucked at him again, this time with teeth, prompting him to answer.
“No. It’s not,” he bit out evenly after a second, as Bucky licked at the head. “Clint Eastwood in PinkCadillac.” He tried very hard to modulate his breathing, the pleasure building. Thank god, the cars were moving, and Steve stepped a little too quickly on the gas, jostling Bucky, who choked, impaling himself again. He had to brake immediately, and the motion made Bucky hit his head on the steering wheel.
“God, Buck, you okay?” he asked quietly, concerned despite his wound up state that was because of said asshole. Bucky nodded, his jacket shifting around, and licked the side of his cock, making Steve’s breath catch. Damn him.
He watched in horror as the line of cars next to him started to move too, and the man in the black sedan was back.
“Oh, hey, I forgot to ask, what’s the year?”
Steve was going to scream. “It’s from fifty-nine,” he growled out, unable to help it. Bucky bobbed his head in earnest now, and Steve felt his orgasm fast approach with absolute dread.
Bucky moaned filthily around him and that’s all she wrote: Steve came with a choked, bitten off moan, throwing his head back a little and screwing his eyes shut as he came down Bucky’s throat, trembling from the force of it.
He ruthlessly sucked on his dick throughout his orgasm until Steve was about to sob, then he pulled off, to his great relief.
Less to his relief, Bucky straightened up, the jacket sliding off his head and landing on Steve’s dick, covering it up.
He shot the man – who had to be staring, Steve didn’t dare turn to check – a wide, unrepentant grin, licking his lips. He looked like he just got finished doing exactly what he’d been doing, his lips red and puffy, his lipstick all messed up. The sun was still out, basking him in a glow that made him look heavenly, absolutely angelic, and Steve knew he was anything but.
“Hi,” he said, unbearably smug, his voice gone rough and hoarse, another indicator. “I heard you like my car.” Steve stared at him, horrified, but Bucky ignored him. “I just bought it yesterday and I’ve been having a lot of fun in it. It’s a really smooth ride. And huge. It takes forever to get inside a space.” That was a total fucking lie, and Steve knew Bucky was actually talking about his dick, but there was no way he could call him out on it, and could only watch in horrified bewilderment as Bucky had his fun.
He heard the man splutter. Bucky smiled even wider, a shit-eating grin. “But it brings me so much pleasure that it’s totally worth a little pain. It handles like a dream, too. I can crank it up and rev the engine and it takes off, roaring to come… and go… and give me the ride of my life.”
Jesus god almighty. Steve let out a hysterical little giggle, and Bucky’s eyes fell to him then, dark and heated behind his sunglasses.
“Don’t you like it too, Stevie?” he wondered, more quietly. “Don’t you appreciate it as much as I do… Daddy?”
Steve glared at him, his eye twitching again. “Yes,” he admitted helplessly, almost whimpering. Bucky smiled at him beatifically, and then hauled him for an absolutely filthy kiss, all teeth and tongue, right in front of the man and god and everybody. Someone honked at them, and they broke away from each other. The cars had moved up a little and Steve moved forward, all too glad to leave that black sedan behind.
“So how are you enjoying driving it so far?” Bucky asked him, settling under Steve’s arm.
“I hate you,” he replied.
Bucky only laughed at him. “No, you don’t.”
No, he really didn’t.