Chapter Text
It was after dark and starting to drizzle by the time you were finally standing on Bleecker Street ringing a bell. Several seconds ticked by with no response. You lifted your hand in a fist and swung to knock on the door, but your hand swept through the air, connecting with nothing and you found yourself no longer on the street, but indoors. You looked around, disoriented, noting a crackling fireplace and walls lined with books. You lifted your head and saw Stephen sitting in an armchair.
“Tea?” He held out a cup in your direction.
You walked to him, eyes rolling, and took the offered cup. “I do wish you wouldn't do that. It makes me dizzy.”
Stephen fought the grin tugging at his lips as he watched you sit in the chair adjacent to him. You settled against the chair, glancing at your shoulder. “I could have sworn I had a bag… and a coat.”
“Guestroom,” Stephen replied with a half smile.
You cocked an eyebrow. “Bold of you to assume I'm staying.”
“No, bold would have been assuming you were here under less virtuous pretenses and putting your things in my room,” Stephen countered with a cocky grin.
“Stephen,” you chided, shooting him a warning look.
“I'm well aware you're here because I've been ignoring Rogers’, no need for lectures,” Stephen said, raising a hand to stop whatever he assumed you would say next.
You sighed, setting your cup down. “Then I assume you know why he's been calling, so you want to tell me what's going on?” You crossed your arms, but immediately grimaced as the gesture put uncomfortable pressure on the still freshly burned skin of your chest.
Stephen furrowed his brow, concern immediately coloring his features. “I know that look. What hurts?” He asked as he set down his own cup and sat forward in his chair, closer to you.
“It's fine, it's nothing,” you said with a dismissive wave of your hand.
“That's not nothing,” he countered, pointing at the edge of a deep red welt just peeking out above the neckline of your sweater.
Before you could object, he was kneeling in front of you, pulling back the fabric and examining the burn. He gently pressed in a couple spots and you hissed, reflexively pulling away. Stephen looked up at you, eyes questioning and you knew what he was thinking.
“The answer is no, Stephen. I should slap you for even thinking it,” you said before he could open his mouth.
“You don't know what I was thinking,” he objected. “I was just going to ask what happened.”
“No, you were going to ask if he did this when you know damn well he would never hurt me,” you retorted.
“Not physically, anyway,” Stephen couldn't help pointing out. “And I wasn't going to ask. I may have thought it, but I wasn't going to ask.”
You rolled your eyes. “I forgot how much fun it is to argue with you.” You gave him a sarcastic smile. “The only thing to blame for this is an Americano and bad timing.”
Stephen stood and grabbed his sling ring out of his pocket. “Well, I can't treat you here, so come on,” he beckoned you through the portal he had just opened and it shut behind you once you were both through.
You looked around, surmising you were in an examination room at his hospital. Stephen was grabbing things from cupboards and drawers. You took a seat on the exam bed while you waited. He eventually turned to you, pulling over a tray of supplies, and pausing to grab gloves.
“I can't see through the sweater,” he calmly remarked as he put the gloves on.
You huffed, your look unamused, but you reached down and pulled the sweater up and over your head, setting it beside you on the bed. Stephen smiled. He grabbed things in succession from the tray and began cleaning and examining your wound.
“Just like old times,” he remarked with a quiet chuckle. “This is better than bullet wounds, though. Less messy.”
“Hurts a hell of a lot less too,” you agreed.
There was a few beats of silence while he worked before you decided to get back to your reason for coming to him.
“So, now you wanna tell me why you're ducking Captain America's calls?” You raised your eyebrows and fixed him with a pointed stare.
Stephen sighed, turning to the tray to grab an ointment and cotton swab, before turning back with a very somber look in his eyes. “It's my obligation to protect the stone. I was looking for a way.”
He began gingerly applying the ointment to your burn, avoiding eye contact, which didn't go unnoticed.
“I'm guessing you didn't find a way,” you stated, watching as he grabbed gauze and dressed your wound.
“I looked at possible futures for days, saw hundreds of millions of possibilities,” he stepped back, peeling off his gloves and tossing them in a bin. He turned to lean against the counter. “Out of all of them, there was only one where we were successful.”
You looked at him confused. “That's a good thing, isn't it? We only need one. That's all it takes.”
You watched him grapple with his next words, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck. There was a grimness etched into his face that you didn't think you'd seen before.
“We would win, in the end,” he began. “But the cost… the cost would be… staggering.” He straightened, shaking his head, and crossed the room to stand near you again. “I can't say anything else. Anything I reveal risks altering the outcome. I'm sorry.”
You studied his face for a moment as you took in the gravity of his words. The weight of knowing you would need to lose to win was hard to carry, but it was always something you held room for as an Avenger. This wasn't a shocking idea.
“When you say cost, do you mean to everyone, like the universe in general, or do you mean to us specifically?” You cautiously asked.
Stephen twisted his lip, his eyes pleading that you not ask. “I can't tell you that. If I tell you it won't happen.”
You nodded, trying not to be irritated with the cryptic responses. Somewhere in your mind, you knew he was right, but all you felt was a cold pit in your stomach as your mind swam with all the possibilities that the word “cost” could include. You hopped off the table and tugged your sweater back over your head.
“We need to get back to the compound and fill Steve in. If you can't tell us what to do, you can at least be there to redirect and keep us on the right path,” you stood, waiting for him to reopen the portal back to the Sanctum.
“I'll speak with Rogers, I promise.”
Stephen swung his hands through the air and a ring of orange sparks appeared. The room on the other side, however, wasn't what you were expecting. It was the common room of the compound.
You gave him a confused frown. “I drove, Stephen. My car's parked outside the Sanctum. And my bag is still there.”
Stephen chuckled. “I'll drive it up to you tomorrow. But I think he's looking for you,” Stephen gestured through the portal and you saw Bucky standing from his spot on the couch, walking toward you.
He stopped at the threshold, crossing his arms. “Strange,” he nodded curtly to Stephen.
“Always a pleasure, Barnes,” Stephen replied coolly.
You stepped through the portal and stood at Bucky's side. “I'll tell Steve you'll be here tomorrow. Goodnight, Stephen.”
Stephen gave you a sad smile before sweeping his hand and closing the portal.
“Hey, doll,” Bucky said, turning to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you close.
You offered a wry smile. “And what exactly did you threaten him with to get him to portal me back here in such a hurry?”
Bucky smirked at you. “Nothing, doll, honest.”
“Mhm,” you hummed, reaching up to wind your arms around his neck. “Because Dr Strange is well known for altruistically doing the opposite of what he wants to accommodate you, of all people.”
Bucky laughed. “Alright, fine,” he conceded. “I may have mentioned that we had a lot to accomplish, seeing how we're getting married in 7 days.”
You groaned. “Buck, that wasn't exactly nice. You should have let me be the one to tell him.”
“I missed you,” he pouted. “I didn't want to spend the night alone.” Bucky ducked to kiss your jaw. “And I told him I love you and that I was sorry that he and I never got along, but for your sake, I was willing to bury the hatchet, if he was.”
You stared at him, wide eyed and shocked. “Bucky, you really told him that?”
“Yeah, babe. I did,” Bucky affirmed with a soft smile.
You gave him a sincerely grateful look. “Thank you, Buck. That means a lot. I appreciate it.”
He offered you a crooked smile and leaned in to press a kiss to your lips. “Anytime, doll.”
You looked over his shoulder at the clock on the stove. “Oh, it's not nearly as late as I thought it was,” you remarked.
“Nope, which is convenient because we've got work to do,” Tony announced as he strode into the room. He passed you to take a seat.
You let go of Bucky and followed, sitting opposite him on the couch and you saw Bucky do the same.
“Has there been a development?” You asked, propping your elbows on your knees.
Tony crossed his legs and gave you an incredulous look. “Yeah, you two lovestruck teenagers decided to tie the knot, shotgun style, and now I gotta throw together a wedding in record breaking time.”
You blinked at him for a moment, then fell back against the couch, laughing, dragging a hand down your face. “Tony, I thought something important had come up with the stones!”
You shook your head as your laughter died down. “I've seen you plan red carpet galas in less time than this, you freaking diva,” you shot back.
Tony gave you a wounded stare, hand to his heart. “Those are just simple trained monkey exhibitions, not a wedding! I need time to pull out all the stops.”
“We're not looking for an extravagant event you can see from space, Stark,” Bucky interjected. “Something simple with our family is more than enough.”
Tony gave him a blank expression. “Well aren't you full of party cheer,” he deadpanned.
You watched his expression become thoughtful and practically saw the wheels turning as a surprised look came over his face. “Wait you're not-” his eyes darted back and forth between the two of you. “Oh my God, his super soldier super swimmers got to you; you're pregnant.”
“Tony, what the fuck!,” you practically shrieked, peeling into more laughter. You glanced at Bucky and saw him cackling right along with you. “Oh my good God, please don't ever say that again,” you said practically gagging.
“No, she is not pregnant,” Bucky said firmly, though mildly undercut by scoffing laughter. “‘Super swimmers’, Jesus Christ,” he mumbled, shaking his head.
“Oh, what did I miss?” Natasha asked as she took a seat in another chair.
Tony immediately turned to her, poised to recap. But you held out a hand and cut him off.
“Uh uh, no way,” you demanded. “We're not repeating that. Tony came by to help us plan the wedding.”
Natasha pursed her lips in annoyance, but chose to let it go. “Right. Well, where have we gotten so far?”
“So far, we've established that YN isn't pregnant and that Tony is angry about his time constraints,” Bucky replied.
Natasha nodded. “Sounds about right.” She turned her attention to you. “What do you guys want to do? Because we can just do something simple right here at the compound. There's plenty of space. But I'm sure the billionaire here has plenty of connections if you wanted something like a fancy venue in the city. What do you think?”
“I've never been one for fancy indoor spaces,” you said. “What do you think, Buck? It's your wedding too.” You gave him a soft smile.
“The last time I even thought about the concept of a wedding was before the war, doll. I have basically no opinions on it,” he replied, sitting back and propping his left leg on his knee. “I'm just along for the ride. So long as you're the one walking toward me down that aisle, I don't care about the rest.”
He gave you a crooked smile and you knew you were blushing just a little.
“Aw, that's adorable. The tin man has a heart,” Natasha cooed with a strong undertone of snark.
Bucky didn't respond, just raised an eyebrow and flipped her off.
“Hey, I understood that reference,” Steve said, coming to sit down next to Bucky.
You gave Steve a smile. “Well somebody better get Sam in here or he'll get his feelings hurt, thinking he was left out. Friday?”
“Yes, Agent YLN,” Friday replied.
“Oh, and Bruce. Not that I think his feelings will be hurt, but it makes me feel bad when he's left out,” you added. “Nobody else is on property at the moment, right?”
“Agent Barton and Miss Bishop are in the hangar,” Friday answered.
“Well, send ‘em over.”
“It'll be like a mission brief, only nobody will get irritated with Steve,” Bucky laughed.
“Thanks, buddy,” Steve sarcastically replied with an elbow to his best friend's side.
“Alright, Hawklet, what do you want to do? Don't think just answer-go,” Tony said.
“I wanna get married on a mountain top in the Cascades,” you immediately replied without hesitation. You cocked your head and raised your eyebrows in surprise. “Huh, that really works.”
“Well, I could've told you that,” Bucky said with a warm smile.
“You could?” You asked, turning to him.
Bucky just chuckled. “Baby, our room is practically wallpapered in paintings of those mountains. There's a sign on the shelf in the bathroom that says ‘I left my heart in Oregon’. It wasn't hard to figure out.”
“He's right. I put that sign up,” Kate concurred as she and Clint entered the room. She paused to hug you before sitting on the floor by the fireplace.
“Hey, Kes,” Clint stopped to kiss your head before continuing on to take up half of Natasha's chair as she scooted over. She set her feet in his lap once he sat down and Clint gave her a look full of fake annoyance.
“Don't you have someone else for foot rub duty now?” Clint asked, arching an eyebrow and nodding his head toward Steve.
Natasha pouted. “But he's not as good at it,” she complained. “Sorry, hun, but it's true.” She gave Steve an apologetic look.
Steve put his hands up disarmingly. “No argument here. Must be those precision archer fingers, Barton.”
Clint groaned, but grabbed one of Natasha's feet and started massaging. Natasha relaxed into the chair, smiling.
“Okay, back to the matter at hand,” Tony redirected. “Mountain top. Cascades. Pacific Northwest. Excellent. There shouldn't be many fires yet and the snow should be melting.”
“Yeah, but that's like 3000 miles away. Isn't that super impractical?” You countered. “Maybe we should do what Nat suggested and just have it here. I don't want to put anyone out.”
“That's what quinjets are for,” Tony said with a grin.
Bruce had walked in and taken a seat while you and Tony debated. Tony turned to him.
“Thoughts, Dr Banner?” Tony asked.
“On the Pacific Northwest? Yeah, it's lovely, I'm told. Haven't seen it myself.”
“I've only seen bits and pieces on missions and it's not like you're stopping to admire the scenery,” Nat added. Clint nodded in agreement.
“I've really only seen Europe, and it was mostly exploding at the time,” Steve added.
“Theoretically, I've been everywhere, but it was certainly never to appreciate the landscape,” Bucky said with a grimace.
“I'm so confused; are we just sharing stories about traveling?” Kate asked. “Because that's cool, but I'm hungry, so…”
“Oh, jeez, right, sorry,” you said. “We're getting married next week,” you gestured between you and Bucky. “Welcome to the planning committee.”
“What?!” You all heard a bellow from the other end of the room and all eyes turned toward the sound.
You watched Sam walk in, hands on his hips, just staring between you and Bucky with an accusatory frown. You saw the look on his face and knew where his mind was headed. But before he could voice the thought, Clint beat him to the punch.
“You jackass, you knocked her up?!” Clint shouted. You watched rage flash in his eyes and Natasha held him firmly against the chair, which you were grateful for.
“NO,” you firmly and loudly replied. “For the last time, I'm not pregnant, and even if I was, it's not 1953. We wouldn't need to quickly get married, lest I be branded the town floozy.”
Quiet chuckles cascaded over the room.
“So it's settled. I'll take care of the rest. Except attire, I'm not going to presume on that front or it'll be nothing but complaints from the wedding party, I'm sure,” Tony established. “Nat, you guys figure that out. You know all my usual contacts.”
Tony stood and gave a short wave. “Now I gotta get home before Morgan gets into the garage again. Girl's too much like me, unfortunately. Night, avenging family,” he called as he left.
Sam, who had previously been holding up the wall came forward and took Tony's chair. Kate jumped up and headed to the kitchen.
“I need a sandwich,” she called. “But I wanna help pick colors.”
“If you're making sandwiches, I'll take one,” Sam said with a grin.
Kate narrowed her eyes at him. “I don't recall offering,” she sighed. “But, fine.”
Sam laughed. “Better make one for the hawk too. He seems like he might be hangry,” Sam added, giving Clint side eye. “I thought he was gonna jump up and knock your teeth out for a minute, Buck.”
“So did I,” Bucky concurred, giving Clint a look that was something between accusatory and confounded.
Clint just shrugged. “I warned you the day you got engaged that if you fucked up, I'd put you through a meat grinder.”
You turned to him with just the hint of a pout on your face. “Clint, is that any way to speak to the father of my child?”
You watched Clint's jaw tick in irritation and tried not to laugh. “Very funny, Kes.” He scooped Natasha's legs out of the way and got up to head to the kitchen where Kate slid a plate to him across the counter with a smile.
You bit back a laugh when Steve got up and took Clint's spot, lifting Natasha off the chair and setting her in his lap instead. She looked up at him with a barely noticeable roll of her eyes, and pecked his cheek.
Bruce stood and declared that he needed to get back to the lab. You thanked him for being there and Kate handed him a sandwich before he left, which you were grateful for because you often wondered if he did things like pause to eat when he was working on a project.
“I have a favor to ask, Sammy,” you said as you slid over to rest against Bucky's side and tucked your legs up under you.
“If you wanted me to take him out, you shoulda asked before you agreed to marry him,” Sam replied with a smirk.
You felt Bucky's arm move and you knew he was flipping Sam off behind your head. Sam cackled.
“I think you'd have to get in line for that privilege,” you replied sarcastically. “Behind him,” you gestured toward the kitchen and the archer that was munching at the island. “And the magician- oh, speaking of which; Steve, Strange said he'll be here tomorrow.”
“Good,” Steve replied. “Maybe we can get somewhere.”
You decided it would be best to leave it and let Stephen explain. No sense arguing about it now and bringing down the mood.
“Anyways, Sam, can I put you in charge of finding attire for the guys? No offense, love, but if you show up to our wedding in combat boots, I'll refuse to say ‘I do’,” you snickered into Bucky's side as he reached down and grabbed your waist.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, doll. I think I could still convince you,” he replied, raising an eyebrow.
“Don't worry, I'll make sure he looks presentable,” Sam assured. “Which ‘guys’, exactly? Other than the groom himself, obviously.”
“I assumed you and Steve, but I guess that's up to him,” you lightly poked Bucky's side. “And I was hoping you wouldn't mind including Peter.”
Bucky nodded with a playful grin directed at Sam. “Of course. He can just replace Sam.”
“What the hell, Winter Jackass, why you gotta come for me?” Sam cried.
“You'll notice she didn't include me at all, so count yourself lucky,” Clint shouted from the kitchen island. “Kids these days,” he muttered with a mock shake of his head through a smile.
“That's because you're gonna walk me down the aisle, Hawk,” you responded, pointedly. “Who's the jackass now?” You turned to stare at him over the back of the couch, an eyebrow raised in question.
“Kes, I’d be honored. Truly,” he said much more quietly, giving you a sincere smile.
“Alright, now we need to worry about your dress, and the rest of the girls, which are…?” Nat asked.
“You, obviously, her,” you pointed to Kate. “And Wanda. Oh shit, somebody call Wanda. And Peter. Shit, Tony was right, this is a lot to think about very quickly,” you remarked.
“Friday, take notes, please,” you called to the ever present AI. “Alright, let's get this sorted out.”
Friday tied Peter and Wanda in via video and the night was spent in a flurry of decisions about dresses and ties and colors and flowers, until eventually half the room was asleep in their chairs. The remnants of snacks and glasses and plates littering the space.
You had an odd sense of accomplishment as you stretched and sat up, deciding it was time to actually get in bed.
“You want me to carry you, love,” Bucky offered as he stood.
You shook your head. “I'm alright.” You nodded toward Kate who was fast asleep sprawled sideways on an armchair. “But I don't want to leave her there. She'll wake up with a sore neck.”
Bucky nodded, turning with the intent to pick Kate up instead.
“It's okay, Barnes, I got her,” Clint said as he walked past and scooped Kate out of the chair.
“Night, Kes,” Clint whispered as he stopped to kiss your temple. “Love you, kid. Night, Barnes.” He carried Kate down the hall and out of sight.
Bucky moved to the nearest chair and lightly shook Sam's shoulder. “Come on, buddy,” Bucky encouraged as Sam slowly opened his eyes. “I'm not carrying you. Get your ass to bed.”
“Love you too, Buck,” Sam grumbled as he got to his feet.
You all shuffled down the hall to your respective rooms.
“Night, Sammy,” you said, giving him a tired hug. “Thanks for all your help.”
“Yep,” Sam said with a yawn. “Night, guys.”
You and Bucky crawled into bed. You were half asleep, quickly slipping away when you felt him lean over you and kiss your cheek.
“Goodnight, almost Mrs Barnes,” he whispered.