Chapter Text
“Hill come on! Didn’t you specifically tell me last time never to let you drink champagne again?”
Sam makes a gesture of appeal around the table which is roundly ignored by everyone.
“If I hit the bottom of the bottle you can cut me off okay?” Maria fires back at him with a grin. “But you gotta have champagne for celebrations Sam, it’s like—bad luck not to.”
“Yeah, Sam,” Steve adds, smirking, “besides what else does she have to do but lounge around being day drunk? Medical leave is practically vacation, right Hill—?”
His question is answered as a sopping slice of lemon from her water slaps him in the face. She may still be in a wheelchair at the moment, recovering from the injuries to her leg, but her pitching arm works perfectly.
“Aww lemon in the face, Maria?” asks Bucky, clearly not too concerned. “You could have put an eye out.”
“Let that be a lesson to you Rogers,” she says with a grin.
“Hey when are you guys gonna open presents?” Nat chimes in, elbowing Bucky in the ribs.
“Don’t open mine here,” Clint says, deadpan, “it’s indecent.”
Bucky snorts. “Everything about you is indecent, Barton.”
“Hey open the one from Phillips at least,” Maria says, casting a look toward Steve, “I can’t go home today without my curiosity getting satisfied there.”
Steve looks at Bucky, raising his eyebrows and shrugging in a wordless go ahead.
Bucky pulls the box onto his lap, eyeing the gold wrapping paper suspiciously. “There is no way this is from him, look at this thing,” he says, tearing into it.
Inside is a carved wooden cheeseboard and a matching set of cheese knives. Bucky looks at Steve, blankly.
“Well there’s really no way this is from him.”
“Card!” Nat says helpfully, pointing out the white envelope tucked into the side of the box.
Bucky rips it open, and begins to read the contents aloud. He doesn’t set out to imitate the Colonel’s voice, but finds he warms to it about halfway through anyway, unable to help himself.
Barnes/Rogers,
Obviously I had no say in the choosing, packaging, or giving of this gift. My wife seems to think this whole thing is my fault and I’m therefore responsible for furnishing you with knick-knacks.
Anyway please enjoy, also do not feel any need to invite me to the wedding. As I am certain there will be dancing consider this my “no” RSVP and save yourself the stamp.
Best,
Col. Phillips
The table erupts into laughter both at the note and Bucky’s dramatic reading of it.
“Now that sounds like him,” says Steve. Maria and Bucky agree.
“Good ole Chester,” Bucky says to Steve with a broad smile.
Steve slides an arm around Bucky’s neck and pulls him closer to press a kiss to the crown of Bucky’s head, so Bucky really has no choice but to rest his head on Steve’s shoulder. Which is okay by him.
Nat clears her throat, and everyone turns to look at her.
“Well since apparently not all of us brought publically appropriate gifts for today,” she says, eyeing Clint sideways, “you can enjoy whatever humiliation is in store for you in the privacy of your own home.”
Clint grins wolfishly. “You’re gonna dig it.”
“Anyway,” Natasha says as everyone giggles. “We’re all really happy for you guys. We’ll all be even happier when you seal this deal because we all know what a nightmare Bucky is when he’s in the throes of planning an event—sorry Steve.”
Steve tilts his glass at her with a smile and Bucky pretends to look offended.
“But for today we just want to say we’re all happy to be celebrating you.” She gives a significant look to the other three, “so everybody go ahead and raise your glass—” everyone obeys, “—to Steve and Bucky—”
“—to today,” says Clint (and Bucky and Steve glance at him surprised),
“—to tomorrow,” adds Maria with a slightly teary smile (and Steve and Bucky are smiling too, turning to Sam expectantly),
“—and to happy ever after!” he finishes.
Sam raises his glass on the last word, and everyone clinks their champagne glasses into the center of the table. They all take a long sip, giving Bucky time to try and sneakily wipe his eyes before they set their glasses on the table. He’s turned into such a crier since meeting Steve, but he guesses it’s a fair price to pay.
He looks at Steve, and Steve is looking at him with what he suspects is a mirror of the sappy, happy grin on his own face. Bucky leans forward, brushing his lips against Steve’s in a light kiss.
“Seriously, you’re not even going to comment on how awesomely we rehearsed that?” Clint breaks the silence to ask, sounding a little put-out. “I didn’t even write my part down!”
“It was one word man, come on—” says Sam.
“—two words!”
“Okay one real word and one preposition—”
“Boys!” say Nat and Maria at the same time, ending their sniping.
Steve and Bucky look at each other again and laugh. There’s a warm buzzy feeling under Bucky’s skin that he knows isn’t champagne—just happiness that keeps welling up and spilling over. Steve pulls Bucky’s hand up to his lips, and drops a kiss on his knuckles before turning back to the table.
“Very well-rehearsed and excellently executed guys, we’re very impressed.”
“Damn straight,” Clint mumbles under his breath, earning a look from Nat and Maria.
Bucky looks around at the four of them, and lastly at Steve, his heart swelling. He feels so dopey with the feeling that he knows he’d better turn it into words or he’s going to start giggling and maybe not stop.
“Well I uh—I didn’t rehearse anything” he says, “but I’ll give it a go.” He picks up his champagne again, and the others follow suit.
“To friends who rock our world, kick our asses, and have our backs…”
He pauses a moment to look around the table and smile at each one. In the corner of his eye he sees Maria reach out and squeeze Steve’s hand with hers. Nat puts her hand on Bucky’s shoulder.
Steve looks back at him with an adoring look that he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to seeing without his heart skipping a beat.
He tips his glass, beaming at all of them.
“…and to being home.”