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The thing is, it’s hard to fill someone in on 70 years of history they missed out on while they were otherwise indisposed, in whatever way that was. Steve knows this because he’s been struggling to do so for Bucky (though, considering how fresh out of the ice he is himself, he’s probably not the best suited for the job either).
His knowledge on the subject is probably the only reason he’s not any more miffed than he already is at S.H.I.E.L.D for failing to mention two of what he considers to be very important developments.
- You can no longer be arrested for being a homosexual
- Gay couples can get married
That’s right folks, Steve Rogers, Captain America, didn’t learn about Obergefell v. Hodges in a white padded room deep in the bowels of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s headquarters from a nice lady with a clipboard expecting him to lash out because of the time he was born and raised in. No. He learned about it while helping Peter Parker pick out a suit for his graduation.
He’d been handing Peter his phone from where it was resting on his nightstand, a text message coming through that Peter wanted to check, stepping over dozens of well-pressed suits Peter had already rejected. Steve wasn’t exactly sure why the kid had wanted his help specifically for this job. Surely Tony, who had obviously been the one to buy the kid all these clothes, would have been a better choice? But Steve certainly wasn’t the first person to fall victim to Peter’s pleading puppy eyes, so. Here he was.
The screen lit up with a brand-new notification as he narrowly avoided tripping over a lone tie that had somehow managed to get hooked around the leg of Peter’s bed, and Steve’s eyes skimmed over it absentmindedly, then widened as he registered what he’d just read. His arm, which had just a second ago been reaching out to hand Peter the phone back, retracted quickly, bringing the screen closer to his face, much to the kid’s confusion.
Steve read and reread the news header that had just popped up with increasing disbelief and a flicker of traitorous hope he viciously stamped down, because there was no way—
There was no way.
“Uh… Mr. Rogers, sir?” The kid’s voice breaks through the haze he was stuck in, and he realizes that he’s squeezing the phone so hard he’s genuinely in danger of crushing it. He must look insane, staring at the phone like that and gripping it like it’s his last tether to earth.
He swallows hard, loosening his hold on the device Peter is usually so engrossed with. (Steve doesn’t get it. It’s just a little glass rectangle. Sure, it’s a helpful tool at times, but Peter’s on it for hours on end, playing brightly coloured games and typing messages to his friends. Steve would much rather call his friends, if he were in Peter’s place, but maybe he’s just old. Then again, Bucky is almost as bad as the kid is, and he’s Steve’s age.)
He tips the screen in Peter’s direction, not really registering the navy blue suit Peter’s got on now, hovering his thumb over the unopened article notification to draw the kid’s attention to it. When he speaks, his voice comes out shakier than he would have liked.
“What’s this?”
Peter looks down at the phone in Steve’s hand, confusion even more heightened on his face than before.
“A notification from Apple News?” He looks concerned, as if the very thought of someone technically old enough to be his great-grandfather not knowing what a notification is genuinely worries him. By the look in his eyes, now round in what Steve dramatically perceives as horror, he’s about to start explaining the entirety of Apple’s history and the creation of notification banners to him like Steve is his senior grandfather.
“No, I know that. I meant the article itself,” he hastens to specify before Peter can start that. The kid drops his gaze back down to the phone and reads it over quickly, brows furrowing in confusion once more as he absorbs the words that had sent Steve reeling. New Jersey mayor faces public outcry after homophobic comment directed towards Obergefell v. Hodges ruling on legalizing gay marriage.
“It’s just about some old douchebag—sorry, I know, language—making a fool of himself,” Peter says offhandedly, looking back up at Steve’s wide eyes, “He’ll be out of a job within a week, probably.”
He doesn’t seem to understand how mind-boggling his statements are to Steve, how his opinion, let alone the general public’s opinion, apparently, makes Steve’s silly, hopeful heart flutter excitedly. He tries to calm it desperately, the part of him that’s always had to hide and fear being found out still terrified that he’s somehow misunderstood the article and Peter. Years of hiding, your love a crime, will do that to a person.
“What do they mean, ‘ruling on legalizing gay marriage’?” His voice sounds shaky even to his own ears and he wants to hit himself for it. Peter looks confused again.
“What do you mean ‘what do they mean’? They legalized it years ag--”
For the first time in this whole conversation, Peter seems to finally understand what’s going on. His big brown eyes scan over the shocked look on Steve’s face, his wide eyes, the stubborn spark of hope that Steve knows must be clear in the bright blue of his irises, because he can feel it igniting in his chest more powerfully than it ever has before.
The kid’s gaze flickers to Steve’s chest for a second, then back up, and Steve thinks Peter can probably hear his heart thumping quickly as well with his heightened senses. Can probably hear the way it’s pounding against his ribs like it wants to escape the confines of his body and join it’s other half right this second, like it can’t possibly wait the two minutes it’ll take Steve to make it to his and Bucky’s floor.
“You didn’t know,” Peter says, and it’s less a question than it is a statement, “They didn’t tell you that it’s legal now?” His voice is rich with disbelief, “You’ve been here, what? Five years now? Gay marriage was legalized before you even woke up,” Peter says, as if he hasn’t just blown Steve’s mind, completely shifted his worldview.
And Jesus, this must look bad to Peter, Steve’s deer in the headlights expression, his stunned silence. Peter must think he’s some kind of unaccepting monster. What had he called the soon-not-to-be mayor of New Jersey? “Some old douchebag”? Steve’s older than said douchebag, from a time where being seen kissing his lover would have resulted in jail time or a bullet to the head, in the military. His silence must read just as damning as the mayor’s scalding words.
Except Peter’s expression doesn’t shift to anger or disgust when it changes. It goes through a carousel of emotions—surprise, a blip of quickly tamped down excitement (from having figured something out, probably. Peter’s like that), pity—before falling back on understanding. And it’s that look that springs him into action, because despite having just been faced with the evidence that the world is more accepting of him these days, his knee-jerk, instinct driven reaction is to hide before someone finds out, to run if they do.
“I—I’m sorry, Pete. I have to go--” he stutters out.
“—tell Bucky,” Peter finishes for him. It definitely wasn’t what Steve was going to say, but it stuns him to silence just the same, because Peter’s right. That’s exactly what Steve is going to do. And Peter knows it.
He’s got that little knowing look in his eyes, the same one he has whenever they play card games and he knows he has a good hand, or when he’s explaining something complicated in a science-y way to anyone other than Tony or Bruce. It’s half excitement and half knowing, really, and it’s usually incredibly endearing. It is incredibly endearing, even though Steve’s pretty sure he’s a little lightheaded with how much adrenaline is coursing through his body.
The urge to flee is strong, but Steve pushes it down temporarily, because Peter isn’t some guy on the streets of Brooklyn in 1938. He’s not going to try and beat Steve up because he loves the wrong gender.
“Am I that obvious?” His tone is forced light, but the chuckle he pushes past his lips is tense. Peter’s expression softens, his face a little guilty. Now Steve feels bad.
“No! No, I just figured—I mean, you seemed so shocked, and you looked a little excited, maybe—and, well, everyone knows there’s no one you’re closer to than Bucky, so I just--” Peter cuts himself off, a look of frustration crossing his face, like he can’t find the right words. Steve notices the suit he’s wearing for the first time and privately thinks that this is the best one out of the near hundred he’d tried.
“It’s okay, Peter. You were right, anyway,” Steve says, and this time his tone is actually light, not forced, “Just don’t go around telling anyone just yet, okay?”
Peter immediately nods vigorously, eyes wide.
“I promise,” he says earnestly. Steve really likes this kid.
“Thanks, kid,” he pats Peter on the shoulder, his body vibrating to leave now, but not in fear. “I, uh… I do actually need to leave now, though. I really need to tell Bucky,” he stumbles over his words a little, feeling his cheeks heat up.
Peter looks actually excited, not even a little miffed about essentially being ditched.
“Of course, yeah!” He agrees readily, and Steve smiles at him, grateful for the out. He carefully starts stepping over the piles of discarded suits again. He turns around when he’s nearly at the door.
“You should go with that suit, by the way. It looks good,” Steve says. Peter grins.
“Aye, aye, Captain.”
What a little shit. He’s been spending way too much time with Tony, Steve thinks.
“I’ll wear it to your wedding too.”
Steve trips over a suit and nearly face plants.
The elevator door opens on Steve’s (and Bucky’s, unofficially-officially) floor, displaying his empty kitchen to him cruelly, the only thing residing in it being the horrendous, expensive cat food laying in an equally expensive fancy cat dish. There really is no denying it anymore, Alpine is a truly spoiled cat (through no fault of Steve’s, might he add. This was all Bucky).
Steve moves quickly through the kitchen, following the muted sounds of the TV coming from the living room, where he’s really hoping Bucky’s awake, not napping quietly in the afternoon sunlight no doubt streaming through their large windows.
Thankfully, the only one sleeping in the living room is Alpine, curled behind Bucky’s head on top of the couch as he watches the baseball game, Phillies vs Dodgers (and isn’t that a crazy coincidence, today of all days, of all the matchups possible?)
Bucky looks up as Steve practically crashes into the room, narrowly avoiding the truly ridiculously sized kitty condo near the mouth of the living room in his haste. Bucky’s lazy smile quickly turns into a half-amused, half-concerned look, eyebrow quirked at Steve’s, frankly disheveled, state.
“Jesus, I didn’t know helping a kid choose a suit could be such a workout,” he teases, though Steve can see the slight concern in his eyes. Steve shakes his head.
“It’s not that. We found a suit that works. It’s--” he cuts himself off, unsure how to proceed. How do you tell your lover of nearly 100 years that what they’d dreamed about back in the day, knowing it could never be a reality, was possible? Steve swallows hard, meeting Alpine’s judgemental eyes purely by accident. Being judged by a cat is probably one of the most humbling experiences Steve’s ever had, and it happens to him a lot these days. He looks back at Bucky, feeling a little ridiculous.
“We can get married,” he blurts out, mentally slapping himself the moment the words leave his lips. Bucky’s face goes from concerned to utterly confused, eyes wide.
“What?” His voice cracks on the word, the same way Steve’s had. Alpine jumps down from her perch on the couch, apparently realizing that she won’t get her peace and quiet back.
“I was handing Peter his phone and there was this notification from the news app about it. Gay marriage has been legal for years, apparently,” Steve rushes to explain. Bucky’s mouth opens and closes several times before he finds the words he’s looking for.
“I—Steve, are you sure?” His voice is rough. He looks just as painfully hopeful—but scared to be—as Steve felt when Peter told him. Honestly, Steve still feels like that, terrified that this is a dream. Steve shrugs hopelessly.
“The article made it sound like someone was getting in trouble for being against gay marriage, and Peter’s the one who said it’s been legal for years,” he says, and he’s not even finished speaking before Bucky has his phone out, fingers moving rapidly over the little screen in a way Steve’s ninety percent sure is inhuman. He’d be one hundred percent sure if he hadn’t seen a teenager do it quicker on the subway a week ago.
Steve doesn’t peer at the little glowing screen in Bucky’s hand, but he does watch Bucky’s face, so he sees the exact moment Bucky finds the truth. His jaw doesn’t drop dramatically, nor does he freeze like Steve had and stare unblinkingly. The only tell that anything’s changed is the tiny, minute shift in his eyes. But Steve has known Bucky longer than anyone still alive, had memorized his tells and expressions long before the serum or the war. Hell, he'd had them memorized before they finished high school. So the way Bucky’s eyes suddenly seem just the tiniest bit disbelieving, a lot hopeful, is as much a tell as a sudden explosion of fireworks would have been for Steve.
“We could—” Bucky starts, cutting himself off, eyes still glued to the screen.
“We should,” Steve agrees, the reality finally really setting in. Bucky’s eyes are wide now, staring up at Steve. He’s still sitting on the couch. “Buck—”
He’s not sure what compels him to do it, but suddenly he’s on one knee in front of Bucky. It’s probably a really stupid idea. He doesn’t have a ring; he didn’t plan a single moment of this. He can hear the announcer of the baseball game still talking in the background. Christ, they’re in their living room.
And yet Steve can’t imagine going a moment longer without asking.
“Bucky, I love you so much. I wish I’d had the time to plan this, get you a nice ring and prepare a whole speech, because you deserve that, but I don’t think I can spend another second alive without asking you now that I can. Will you marry me?”
Steve doesn’t even have the time to begin to worry before Bucky rushes the words out of his mouth.
“Yes! Yes, Jesus Christ, Steve. Of course I’ll marry you.”
And suddenly Bucky’s also on the floor and they’re kissing and Steve doesn’t know if Bucky’s crying or he is, but his cheeks are wet with happy tears.
The TV is still playing a baseball game the Dodgers have already won. Steve hears something hit the ground in the bedroom and assumes Alpine has taken to throwing the alarm clock off the nightstand again.
He’ll deal with it later.
They don’t tell anyone right away, but Peter knows, probably. Maybe Natasha as well, because she just seems to know things.
The secrecy pays off when they get to witness Tony’s flabbergasted face when Bucky hands him an invite.
Peter keeps his promise. He wears the navy suit to the wedding.