The Captain's Husband

20. July 4, 2023 (Bucky)

     The computer at my fingertips reads July 4, 2023.

     It's been a full year since Steve and I got married on the moon, like the NASA-loving nerds we are, and we've been at war with Thanos and his increasingly reckless underlings for well over a year and a half now. And, on top of that, the Avengers haven't been back to the ship since November.

But, unfortunately for us, that's about to change.

     "Captain, Sergeant," I hear as a couple soldiers come onto the bridge where Steve and I are.

This can't be good.

Steve looks up at me from the security monitors as one of the soldiers says, "We're under attack."

Fucking fuck.

I rise from my chair and turn to the soldiers, fire burning in my chest, "Get back to your posts!" I turn to the controls in front of me and issue a mandatory spacesuit bulletin, and then I look at Steve. "Should we call the other Avengers?"

He pushes himself to his feet, readying himself to tell me no, but then we're thrown across the bridge as an explosion rocks the ship.

Once I'm back on my feet and Steve gets back on his, I reach for the silver button with the Avengers logo on it and hit it with the side of my fist. As sirens start to blare around us, I run toward Steve and pull him with me to the weapons vault. We climb into our armored space suits and grab our weapons before running back to the bridge.

When we get back to our posts, we check the radar and security displays. Soldiers all across the ship are either fighting for their lives, putting on space-safe suits, or both. After a moment of quiet study and a quick conversation, we decide to go where the damage and the threat of defeat are greatest...the flight deck.

Now, Steve and I might be leading a group of US Army soldiers, but we're on a US Navy spaceship, so some things are a little different and it's taken us time to get used to everything. One of those things is communicating with both army and navy officials, bypassing all standard chains of command, reporting directly to the President of the United States, and corresponding all movements with the other Avengers, the army, and the navy.

But in the case of a major emergency?

    Well, we're basically flying blind.

    Why?

    We weren't necessarily anticipating one this soon.

We've activated the distress beacon, we're leaving the bridge when that isn't a thing you're supposed to do ever, and we're running right toward combat. Our soldiers have been trained by Avengers, our own hand-picked agents, and various army and navy officials.

     We should be okay.

     We should survive.

They understand protocol.

They live and breathe defensive and offensive tactics.

They know the creed that Steve and I taught them by heart.

They are willing to die for our country, the world, the universe, and each other.

A year ago, that wasn't necessarily the case. Our soldiers were weapons designed by Hydra that were liberated, reclaimed, and assigned to a hopeless battle in space. When Steve and I found out, we raised holy hell in the command hierarchy, and changed our leadership style completely. We went from strictly business to "we are a family and you will not fuck this up."