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Theodore Stephen Kord and family
Together with their families:
Capt. Steven Grant Rogers
and
Anthony Edward Stark
request the pleasure of your company
at their wedding ceremony
on Saturday
05 . 18 . 19
at six o’clock in the evening
at Stark Botanical Gardens
Reception to follow
Jaime stares at the invitation set down in his desk in front of him, fingers hovering over the keys he’d been pressing before being interrupted. The college intern had been slaving away at the computer all day, going through the old Kord Industries registries to try and figure out where the SHIELD contract from two years ago had disappeared to, and had only stopped somewhere around 2 pm to get something quick to eat. He had been so enraptured in his work, that he hadn’t really noticed Ted walk into his office.
“What is this?” Jaime asks around the pen in his mouth, “Tony’s getting married?”
He’d met the man some years back, when Stark had been single and in the middle of a “scientific break” that ended up burning the top of Jaime’s hair. Ted had had history with the other engineer (Jaime had an inkling they had grown up together), and Kord had taken his godson down to Malibu to introduce him to the genius behind Stark International. Which had been Ted’s feeble attempt at getting Jaime out of his thinking-of-the-future crisis he had fallen into right as his senior year had rolled in.
The attempt hadn’t only worked , but it had also given Reyes an idea as to what he wanted his future to be like. Tony had patted him on the back, exchanged quick advice in flurries of Spanish, and that was all that took for Jaime to be at peace again.
Tony was great, but back then, Jaime hadn’t really pictured the man marrying.
“Right’o, junior,” Jaime hated it when Ted called him that, “And you’re coming with me. You’re the family part of this equation.”
Jaime turns to blink at Ted owlishly, pen hanging from his mouth almost comically, and he makes a confused noise in the back of his throat. The younger man’s eyes shift to Kord’s left hand, where his golden band gleams softly under the window light hitting his fingers. He knows Michael and Ted have been fighting for some days now. It’s why Ted’s been keeping odd hours in the workshop and having dinner at the Reyes’ house.
“Is Michael coming with us?” Jaime asks, taking the pen out of his lips to gesture towards said ring, “He is, right?”
Ted makes a face, waving his hand around, “I’m mad at him. He’s not coming. You are.”
He makes it sound like the decision has already been made. Jaime really should begin to expect these things by now.
“You’re being a child,” Reyes turns away from Ted in his chair, going back to looking for that stupid SHIELD contract, “just make up so you have someone to dance with at the wedding.”
Ted makes this strangled noise that Jaime thinks sounds like a dying animal, but all it earns him is a half-turned smile from the younger man. Sometimes Reyes really has to act like the older of the two, even if he is still technically Kord’s godson .
“I don’t want to bring him,” the business magnate whines, “and this says family . So, I’ll turn up with my family.”
Jaime stops his work again. He swears there’s no way to actually get things done around here when Ted won’t stop nagging him about every little thing. If it weren’t for the money (and the fact that his parents had trusted this man with their son’s upbringing if anything were to happen to them), Jaime would’ve probably quit this internship a long time ago.
“I’d have to go to New York for that,” he says, pivoting in his chair again, “I don’t have money to pay for New York.”
Ted rolls his eyes like what Jaime just said was the worst personal offense his 23 year-old mouth could’ve provided, “I’d pay for you, you doofus,” his godfather tells him, crossing his arms across his chest, “Don’t be stupid, I’m inviting- inviting you, you know?”
“I couldn’t,” Jaime says, but of course he already knows he’s gonna lose this battle. He’s lost the last thirty-seven, by his count, “You already pay my salary and opened a scholarship fund just for me.”
“No,” Ted shakes his head, “I opened a scholarship fund to promote education in El Paso and other Texan cities--it just so happened to be that you and Milagro qualified for said scholarship.”
Jaime would like to tell Ted that’s not the point , but he’s already trying to argue something else, “You’re already done enough for me, padrino.”
“Quit that, Jaime,” Kord tells him, using his ‘godfather voice’ that used to work on Jaime when he was a kid, “I’m taking you to the wedding with me, and that’s that.”
“A child,” Jaime says again, rolling his eyes and turning back to the computer with a grimace on his lips, “that’s what you are, Teddy. A child .”
They touch down at JFK Airport the morning of the wedding day, and beyond having lost their baggage for all of 2 hours, there are no other complications. Ted keeps chatting his ear off about Tony’s soon-to-be husband, who his godfather had apparently met in the early years of their relationship, and Jaime listens for as long as he can before growing bored. He is sure Captain Steven Grant Rogers was an exceptional man, all things considered, he just wasn’t that interested in getting his life story explained to him through an over-excitable Kord.
“He’s Irish, too, on his mother’s side, so he’s got that whole blonde, blue-eyed thing going for him,” Ted prattles on, getting into the elevator that’ll take them to their hotel floor (the hotel that Jaime told him not to pay for when Stark Tower was just right there ), “In fact, Tony’s told me every single one of them is blonde and blue-eyed, which is--you know-- genetics , right?”
Jaime only feels slightly guilty about being relieved when they finally make it to their rooms. They’re right across the hall from each other, but Reyes is actually glad his godfather had decided to give him a separate room. Facts were Jaime really loved Ted, but there was so much time he could spend with the man before going crazy.
They’ve decided to meet the driver downstairs at 5:00 pm, which leaves Jaime with enough time to wind down a little from the trip and maybe get a head start on one of his final assignments due in two weeks. He’s already started with the outline, but he’d been too concerned with the renewal of the SHIELD contract that Jaime had lagged behind a little bit on his courses. It wasn’t anything to be worried about just yet, but he could use the time in New York to be productive.
There would be enough time tomorrow and on Monday to sight-see.
Jaime sets up shop on the desk tucked in the corner of the room, and doesn’t move for the next three hours. By the time he’s standing up to go take a shower and start getting ready for the wedding, he’s almost finished with his assignment. It takes him less time than he’d anticipated, so he calls his mother and tells her about how noisy New York City is. He spends all of 30 minutes on the call, before Ted comes knocking at his door.
His godfather whistles in appreciation as Jaime opens the door and makes a show of turning in his place, arms outstretched, “You sure clean up nicely, junior.”
Jaime lets the pet-name slide, closing the door behind him, and following Ted to the elevators, “That’s only because you insisted on getting me a custom-made suit for Milagro’s quinceañera.”
“Your sister deserves only the best,” Ted says, simply, and pushes the button to take them down.
Jaime notices, briefly, the way his godfather grimaces at himself in the elevator’s reflective surface, hands coming to fumble with the soft yellow tie resting over his chest.
That’s one of Michael’s ties. Jaime only knows this because it’d been part of the Christmas exchange from last year--his mother had gotten Michael an odd assortment of things in yellow, which Michael had almost cried over. He’d seen his not-quite-other-godfather wear it at Milagro’s quinceañera , as well. Jaime wonders if this was a premeditated action or if Ted had just made an honest mistake.
“I told you to make up with him,” Jaime mumbles, looking at the poster in the elevator wall announcing free breakfast from 7am through 12pm, and then adds, “I’m sorry you guys are fighting.”
Ted let’s out an amused breath through his nose, patting Jaime’s shoulder before stepping out of the elevator, “Not your fault, junior,” he says, as Reyes follows him, “We’ll be good as new when we go back to El Paso. You know how your stupid godfather gets, though.”
Jaime hums, low in his chest, and wonders which godfather Kord is talking about.
Choosing not to press any further on the topic, Jaime gets into the car that’s waiting out front for them, right after Ted. This is the second time he’s been to New York City, the first one having been a year ago when he’d had to fly over here to deliver Ted some goddamn documents that his godfather had forgotten in El Paso. That time, he flew in and out in the span of 37 hours, and had had no time to actually see the city.
This time was different, though. He’d not only get a free-pass to the wedding of the modern era (which was what the media outlets were calling it), but he would also get two whole days of sightseeing before having to go back to life in El Paso. He was thankful his schedule allowed for free Mondays now, at least.
Stark Botanical Gardens had only been an idea in Tony’s mind when Jaime first met the man back in Malibu. Now, as the car neared the entrance of the park, Jaime couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer immensity and overall beauty of the place. Behind them, the gates were swarmed by annoying reporters and paparazzi, trying to get a peek at the interior of the place, but inside everything was peaceful.
As they stepped out of the car, the younger man took a deep breath, and wondered for a moment how this place could exist in the middle of crazy-ass New York.
“Theodore!”
Ted grins as he spots Captain Hal Jordan, standing with a few other people a little ways away from where the driver had parked the car. Jaime prays Hal won’t ask about Michael today, and smiles when the air force pilot strolls over to them after excusing himself from the small crowd of people he had been talking to. Jaime won’t pretend that he knows much about Hal himself, but he knows enough not to feel like an awkward child who doesn’t know any of his family members at a quinceañera .
“Harold!” Ted answers right back, hugging the man in greeting, “Shouldn’t you be with Tony in case he tries to elope? I don’t want a runaway bride situation.”
Hal snorts a laugh, shaking his head, “Rhodey’s got that one,” he says simply, pointing at a pair of women talking among themselves in the group he had vacated earlier, “And if that fails, Dinah and Pepper are ready to kick his ass and drag him to the altar.”
“As his friend, you should be helping him out a window, should you not?” Jaime pipes up, “I mean, if he really did want to make a run for it.”
“You bet your ass I’d be just outside helping him get out,” Hal says, winking at Jaime, “but the man’s in way over his head, anyway. He’s ready to do the marrying thing like yesterday.”
Huh, Jaime definitely didn’t see that one coming.
“Unlike you,” Ted says, poking Hal’s arm teasingly, “I’ve been waiting for the Allen-Jordan wedding invitation for about three hundred years.”
Hal rolls his eyes, slinging an arm around Ted to bring him down on a head lock. Jaime barks a laugh, stepping back a little bit to avoid being caught in the scuffle. His godfather struggles against Captain Jordan for a moment, trying (and miserably failing) to gain some leverage to get out from under his arm.
There had been a time in Jaime’s childhood when he saw Ted as the strongest man he’d ever known--the feeling was still there, metaphorically, but Kord’s extensive knowledge on martial arts had faded over his years of marriage.
“Stop, stop, stop!” one of the women that Hal had pointed at before calls from her place, hurrying over to where the other two men were still wrestling, “Harold Jordan! I will choke you with your own tie, consequences be damned, if you don’t let go of Teddy right this instant!”
The threat seems enough for Hal, because he lets go of Ted right away, taking a few steps away from him for good measure. The woman has stopped right in front of him, fussing at his suit and slapping him a few times in the forehead every time Hal says that it’s going to be fine, and that she shouldn’t worry.
“Roughhousing the guests is not going to make Tony any less nervous, Harold,” the woman clips at him, tugging the red tie around his neck a little bit tighter than necessary, earning her a wince from Jordan’s face, “So, I say you be a good best man, and go be useful somewhere where you’re not a menace to this wedding.”
The woman turns sharply towards Jaime and Ted, and Reyes panics, moving to hide his body a little behind his godfather. The woman (red hair, commanding stare, this is some big Blanca Reyes energy right here) notices his feeble attempt at hiding, and raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at him.
“Ted Junior, I assume?” the woman says, prim and proper, the traces of frustration long gone as Hal slips away, waving a hand at their direction, before jogging somewhere , “I’m sorry you had to see that.”
“That’s--” Jaime isn’t quite sure what to say, but he does smile, like his mamá always told him to, “That’s alright. You should see what happens when Ted gets me home late after work. My mom gets--ah--angry.”
A smile. Jaime is getting better at the whole adult thing.
“Well, I’m very glad you both made it,” the woman continues, “And I better not hear again that you’re overworking the poor boy,” Jaime is pretty sure twenty-three doesn’t qualify him as a boy anymore, but he’s not going to correct her, “Or I’ll have words with you, Theodore Stephen.”
Ted scrunches up his nose, making that same face he gave Michael the first and only time his husband proposed they have dinner at the Taco Bell, “If I promise to behave, will you not call me that to my face again, Pepper?”
The woman--Pepper, Jaime reminds himself--laughs softly, shaking her head, as one of her hands come up to cradle Ted’s cheek. The action is small, but it makes Ted smile softly, and Jaime feels something like nostalgia in his chest. Rubbing absentmindedly at the spot, Reyes decides to turn the other way for no other reason than he’s feeling uncomfortable, barging in on a heartfelt moment between friends.
“It’s been such a long time, Teddy,” he hears Pepper say, and Jaime wishes he could just walk away, “After your surgery--”
“Ah, no, let’s not think about that,” Ted’s voice is a little frayed around the edges. Jaime himself is feeling a little bit squirmish, “It’s a happy day, Pep. Our Tony is getting married.”
“Can you believe it?” Pepper asks back, wonder in her words, “He was always going off about how romance was a distraction. He even tried to talk you out of your own wedding.”
That Jaime remembers at least. He had been eighteen when he’d attended Ted’s and Michael’s wedding. Kord had asked him to give him away. Reyes had gone off for days about how backwards the whole thing was, but when the time came to walk his godfather down the aisle, Jaime had honest to god shed some tears and had to go hide behind Tony, who had been best man.
“A wedding that I do not recall you being at,” Ted teases, nudging her shoulder playfully and the woman rolls her eyes.
“You know why I couldn’t be there,” she retorts, smoothing out her blue dress, “I sent you and Michael a big apology basket and my gift.”
Ted is about to say something else, but then the other woman Hal had been talking to (Jaime supposes that’s Dinah), rushes over to Pepper, silver dress glinting under the sunlight, “We might have a bit of a problem.”
Pepper’s entire demeanor changes, shifting back to the look of a woman that had instilled fear into the brave Captain Hal Jordan, “Please tell me it’s not the cake.”
“Not the cake,” Dinah says, but doesn’t look any better, “But Barry and Clint are currently trying to pull Steve back inside from a window. I think he’s making a break for it.”
Pepper is already walking to the opposite side that Hal had run off to earlier, her heels clicking on the boardwalk that made up the path, “Not on my watch he isn’t.”
Before Dinah follows her, the blonde woman turns to the men, smiling sheepishly.
“You should go find your seats,” she tells them, “If you walk a little bit more down this path, you’ll run across Natasha eventually, and she’ll tell you where to go.”
“You’ll tell me if Steve really does make a break for it, right?” Ted asks, eyes a little wider than usual, “Like, I could block his exits. It’s a big park, but I could manage, if you wanted.”
Dinah laughs, shakes her head, “Ollie will murder him before you get the chance to cover the exits if he makes a run for it.”
“Oh well, Queen’s got aim,” his godfather says, shrugging, “I’ll leave it to the pros.”
Captain Rogers does not make a run for it.
Jaime is later informed, once the ceremony is over and the tears have been shed, that Steve had simply had a very severe case of cold-feet, but that the combined efforts of two of his best men (and Pepper’s very effective glare) had finally made him see reason. Once the crisis had been averted, the wedding had gone by in a breeze, and Jaime had to keep blinking away the tears before Ted could see them and tease him about it endlessly. The ceremony had been beautiful, small and intimate, with only the closest of friends and family, and although Jaime did feel like a bit of an intruder, he was still kind of glad he was here to see it happening.
They’ve moved to the reception area of the gardens, which is more beautiful than where the ceremony had been officiated. Jaime was never the kind of guy who stopped and smelled the flowers, but when he was literally surrounded by some of the most beautiful of them, he was beginning to rethink his entire life.
Ted had pointed out two of Steve’s family members (the twins, Clint and Barry Allen, who were Steve’s cousins), repeating his point about how the entire family was plagued with blonde, blue-eyed folks. Jaime had greeted Ted’s old friends, feeling a lot more like the child who doesn’t know who any of the members at a family gathering are, and had tried to smile through all the praise and recognition he was receiving.
“You’ve grown so much !” a tall woman, who Ted had introduced as Diana, had towered over him at some point, pinching his cheeks, “I remember when Teddy first introduced you to us--you were just a small bundle wrapped in blue--and now look at you! You’re a man, already!”
“Kord tells me you’ve gone into biomedical engineering,” Bruce-freaking-Wayne tells him at some point when they get to his table, his kids gathered around him in several states of boredom, “Good for you, Jaime.”
“The kids are always growing up way too fast,” famous reporter Lois Lane tells him, arms linked with her eldest son, Conner, while Clark, her husband and fellow colleague, hoists their youngest, Jon, on his shoulders, “You’re already 23 years-old, I can’t imagine how Teddy must be feeling.”
Jaime ends up exhausted by the time he makes it to their assigned table, which they are sharing with more people that Reyes has never heard about. His godfather has been held hostage by one of their table-mates (a blonde woman he distinctly remember as Carol Danvers, and her wife and daughter) so he’s all alone, trying to catch his breath.
Reyes believed he would only go through this at home, with his extensive latine family, and yet, here he was, trying to remember all of the people currently attending Tony Stark’s wedding.
Tony Stark- Rogers , now.
“Jaime!” speak of the devil, “Why, pray tell, did you not come congratulate me on my marriage? Qué grosero, Jaime, de veras. Yo sé que Bianca no te crió así. [1]”
Jaime tries not to roll his eyes, of course, but he fails monumentally at it. Instead of getting up from his place to actually do what is expected of him, the younger man simply leans back in his chair, head lolling to one side to stare at Tony.
“Actually, my mother raised me not to speak a foreign language in front of people who can’t understand it,” he drawls out, smiling, “Rude, Antonio [2], so very rude.”
Tony simply laughs. Jaime has never seen him this happy.
“Come here, you insufferable brat,” Tony tells him, but his words are dripping with affection, “I’m so happy you could be here. I haven’t seen you since your birthday last year.”
“Well, I resent the fact that I didn’t get an invitation of my own , and instead was clumped in with Ted,” Jaime finally stands up, shaking his head as he laughs, “And who’s fault is that? I sent the invitation and all I got was the Terrible Three teaching Milagro all the bad things they’ve done, Nebula terrorizing my parents and Bárbara trying to rail them all in.”
“Shut up, you got the best end of the Stark Pack” the groom’s arms are outstretched, waiting for a hug, “Bring it in--god, you’re so big already, I can’t believe you’re already twenty-three, you little shit.”
The younger man does as he is told, and comes to hug Tony. He’s already taller than Stark by a couple of inches, which is not a very hard feat to achieve, so he doesn’t say anything about it. He thinks back on the time he first met the man, almost getting his entire head blown up, and smiles, trying to push back the tears.
“Felicidades, Toño,[2]” he whispers, feeling Tony’s arms tighten around him, “espero que sean muy felices juntos. Te lo mereces.”
“Ay, junior, ” Tony says, voice wobbly, before he clears his throat and pushes back, “Come meet my lucky husband, why don’t you?”
Jaime finds out everything Teddy had said about Steve Rogers-Stark is absolutely wrong, but not in a bad way. Steve is still pretty fantastic, but other than being the nicest person on Earth, the captain wasn’t the authority figure his godfather had painted him as. Steve was charming, soft-spoken and looked at Tony as if the other man was his entire world, but he was also sarcastic, witty, and Jaime actually caught him swiping a bit of icing off his own cake.
“Don’t tell Pepper I just did that,” Steve smiles around the finger in his mouth, “you seem like a nice fella, Jaime. You’d know not to rat me out, right?”
Jaime mimics zipping his own mouth shut, before grinning at Steve, “I’ll take this one to my grave, captain.”
Ted finally makes his appearance then, congratulating the newlyweds as well, before telling Jaime they should get back to their table to watch the first dance. The younger man follows his godfather as he scurries across the dancefloor, and they come to sit in their chairs again. The light overhead was already dim, looking less like daylight and more like the beginning of twilight, and Jaime can’t help but smile to himself.
Behind him, Ted says something that earns him a punch from Carol, and Kord lets out a pained howl as Carol’s wife and daughter laugh next to her. Jaime shakes his head, turning briefly to inspect the other guests that have been sat with them, and frowns when he catches the other three spots empty.
He doesn’t have much time to dwell on it, as the music starts and people around him quiet down. Jaime doesn’t recognize the song, but the tune carries around him, the orchestra playing beautifully. Reyes has an inkling that this might be an older song, but he’s never been a music expert, anyways, so he decides he’ll just enjoy it.
One of the blonde men Ted had pointed out earlier (he thinks that’s Clint? Or maybe Barry; Jaime is not particularly sure, he’s too far away to see if the man has the sunspots Ted told him to look out for) gets on stage then, grabbing the microphone.
“Ladies and gents,” the man begins, smiling broadly, “my name is Clint Romanoff,” ah-hah! “and it is my deepest pleasure to introduce the new Mr. and Mr. Rogers-Stark!”
“Stark-Rogers!” Tony yells back, as his husband pulls him to the middle of the dancefloor, smiling all the way.
People laugh again, but it dies down rather quickly, as the music gains volume and Clint starts singing the lyrics to whatever song this is. Jaime feels like he’s holding in a breath, as he watches the happy couple sway to the music. From his place, he can see Steve mouthing the words of their first dance, and hears Ted sniffle next to him. Serves his godfather right for mocking him during the ceremony.
Things you say and do
just thrill me through and through
I’m getting sentimental over you [3]
Oh, well, he’ll cry, too. No damage in that.
The dance is short, but sweet, and Clint asks for everyone’s applause through a wobbly voice and tear stains in his cheeks. He bids the happy couple a very happy life, and gives the microphone back to one of the band’s vocalists of the night. Jaime wipes away his own tears, and watches Ted do the same in the corner of his peripheral vision. Carol’s daughter, Monica, is sitting on her lap and wiping away her mother’s tears.
Dios, Jaime doesn’t think he’ll make it through the night. He’ll just keep crying like an idiot.
After dinner, Tony takes him out to dance, which is probably the height of Jaime’s existence at this point. He loves weddings, and the only reason that he does is because of how much dancing there is at weddings (so, sue him, maybe he also loved weddings because he was a sap). Reyes had been worried about not having anyone to dance with (his godfather’s got two left feet), but by the first hour, he was tired, a little sweaty, pero bien bailado .
He’d taught Captain Rogers-Stark to dance the basics of cumbias , which had been a feat on its own, and twirled Bárbara Pierrez around when Tony finally thought his husband was good enough to pair up. Ted had joined them at some point, taking Pepper out to dance, as the woman laughed at his terrible expertise. Carol and Maria had come to the dancefloor, too, their daughter settled between them, and Jaime hadn’t been able to resist scooping Monica up to dance a couple of pieces with her.
Jaime is putting Monica down by the edge of the dancefloor to let her run after Jon Kent, when he notices some of the younger people (“People your age! You should make some friends, junior!”) sitting down at one of the tables a couple of feet from him. The Kent’s eldest son, Conner, is sitting with his feet propped on top of another dark haired boy’s lap, who Jaime recognizes from the Wayne table Ted had steered him to earlier. He knows that one isn’t Dick, because he knows Dick at the very least, and he’s currently dancing away with Wally and their dates on the dance floor, but he’s not sure which of the other three that one is.
Bruce Wayne has too many children.
Next to Unidentifiable Wayne Kid, however, sits the most gorgeous man Jaime has seen in the span of his twenty-three years of life. He’s got unruly auburn hair, which he tries to put down by pushing a hand through it, but only succeeds in making it worse, and his eyes are the green-est Reyes has seen in--well, ever . So green that he can actually see them with the dying daylight and at a considerable distance.
A shudder climbs up Jaime’s spine as soon as he makes eye contact with those eyes, and he can’t seem to turn away, never mind the hot, heavy weight of embarrassment sitting in his stomach right now.
The other man starts to smile, sheepishly, and waves a hand tentatively in Jaime’s direction. Reyes is stuck in his place, until something (or someone) hits his legs, and a gaggle of children laugh and scream around him.
The moment is lost, as Jaime turns down to grin at Monica, who’s trying to hide from Jon by staying just behind his knees. The little girl thinks the plan is foolproof, and it might as well be, because as soon as the youngest Kent lunges forward, Jaime scoops the girl up into his arms. The other man all but forgotten.
“Hey!” Jon says, pouting slightly, “That's cheating, Monica!”
Behind Jon, another one of the Wayne kids rolls his eyes, an action that would amuse Jaime if it didn’t look so terribly serious in the young boy’s face.
“She’s being smart , doofus,” Damian tells his friend, and takes a couple of steps back when Jon turns towards him.
“Then maybe I should get you instead!” Jon squeals, and bolts right after the youngest Wayne kid, who ducks for cover under a table.
Monica kisses his cheek then, making him smile, “Thank you, Uncle Jaime,” he’s not sure he’ll ever get used to that, “You can put me down now.”
Reyes sets the child down again, not before kissing the top of her head, and advices her, “I’ve been told Morgan Stark is extremely good at playing tag.”
The girl beams, nodding, “I’ll go look for her!” she’s about to lunge into the party, before she stops mid-turn and then looks at him again, “Uncle Peter told me to tell you that they’re waiting for you, by the way!”
Jaime grins. They usually meant trouble.
“Thank you, Mon,” he says, “Now run along, you wouldn’t want the boys to play without you, right?”
As soon as Monica has scurried off back to her game, Jaime makes his way to a less populated area so he can figure out where Peter and the others are. Dick and Wally are still on the dancefloor, and they don’t look like they’re gonna stop anytime soon, so he just waves at them on his way. Wally screams something at him that he can’t hear over the band, so he just rolls his eyes and deems it a good enough reaction when it gets him the bird for his troubles.
He finally finds Peter, Harley, Shuri (see: the Three Terrors) and another one of the Unidentifiable Wayne Kids (see: #2) sitting at one of the tables in a back corner, and he rolls his eyes at their different states of boredom. Jaime knows for a fact Shuri hates not being in her lab, while Peter has never been seen without one device or the other in his hands, taking after Tony in that sense--today seems to be the awful exception. Harley hates dressing up, so he’s left his jacket and tie draped over the back of his chair, as he leans over Shuri, looking miserable.
“Ah, he finally makes his entrance,” Shuri says, pushing Harley off her, “you done twirling around, Jaime?”
Jaime rolls his eyes as he sits on the chair across from them, “You guys should be out there enjoying yourselves--it’s Tony’s wedding, por Dios.”
“And now he talks to us like the adult he is!” Peter exclaims next, throwing his hands up in the air in plain frustration, “It’s like I don’t know you at all .”
“Well I, for one, don’t have any goddamn idea who this is,” Unidentifiable Wayne Kid #2 pipes up, his tie loose around his neck.
“Jaime Reyes,” he gives half a wave, smiling, “Ted’s godson.”
“Kord?” the Wayne Kid says, and then recognition flashes through his eyes, “Oh, you’re mister biomedical engineering, aren’t you?”
Jaime laughs a little, shaking his head, “Well, yeah, I suppose that’s me,” and then he adds, “Which Wayne are you, again? I’ve only met Dick personally, and I’m horrible with names.”
“Jason,” Unidentifiable Wayne Kid #2--now Jason--grins at him, although the corners of his mouth are tight, waving the same way Jaime had before, “Rebel son, I guess.”
Reyes makes a quick scan of what little information he has on Jason. Remembers the constant newsreels asking the whereabouts of Jason Wayne. Ted hadn’t been that close with the Waynes, but he did remember his parents’ grief-stricken eyes when his godfather had talked about it over dinner, the thought of losing a son too unbearable for them to wish it on somebody else. He remembered his miraculous return, too, and the tears his mother had spilled on behalf of Bruce Wayne.
“I’m sure you’re more than that,” Jaime settles on, and hopes his face didn’t give away what he had been thinking, “So far, you’re keeping the kids company,” Shuri, Peter and Harley cry out in protest, “so it makes you a pretty cool guy in my book, hermano [4].”
Jason seems stunned for a moment, but it’s gone quickly enough, and the grin is back in place. This one seems a little less tight around the edges, and a whole less menacing.
“They’re nineteen, already,” Jason says, slinging an arm over Peter, who’s closest to him, “the pipsqueaks aren’t pipsqueaks anymore.”
“Tell that to Tony,” Harley huffs, annoyed, and leans back into his chair a little too far--Jaime is betting with himself how long it’ll take for Keener to end up on the floor, “He’s unbearable surrogate-dad number one.”
That starts up the years-old argument, of course, in which Jaime will try to convince Peter and Harley that Tony only does whatever it is that he did this time to make sure they have a bright future, and the kids will retaliate by saying he’s annoying and overprotective. Usually, Jaime will have Barbie on his side, but this time he’s fighting this battle all on his own. Shuri doesn’t help, either, because she’s intent on mocking Tony any chance she gets, and Jason seems to have similar thoughts to Peter and Harley about the whole thing.
(It was a bit of a surprise to find that Jason had been living with Tony for a while now. He was still a Wayne, and Reyes didn’t have all the details, but something must’ve happened after Jason had been found that drove a wedge between Bruce and himself.
Ugh, Jaime’s una vieja chismosa[5]. He really needs to stop.)
“I’m just saying ,” Jason says, arms up in the air, “I’m your age! I don’t think I’d have to follow the same rules as pipsqueaks one and two over here,” Harley and Peter both yell at him, “but he’s so annoying about curfews! I’m twenty-three for goodness sake!”
“I mean, you’re living under his roof!” Jaime retaliates, voice high, “My mom still gives me and Teddy grief every time I come home past ten . That’s just how latines are, Jay!”
“He’s annoying that’s what he is!”
Reyes is about to say something next, but Jason’s look goes from passionate to confused as his eyes flick over Jaime’s shoulder. Before he has any time to react, something hits the back of his chair and his head.
“ Oww ,” Jaime leans forward over the table, rubbing at the spot in his head that was hit, and turns around to see the offender, only to splutter to a halt and freeze in his place.
Standing behind him, apologizing over and over again in quick succession, and looking bright and red with embarrassment, is the man he had seen earlier, at the table with Conner Kent and Unidentifiable Wayne Kid #1. His eyes are greener up close, if that was even possible, and his hair was a little more disheveled that Jaime’d seen it earlier.
“I’m honestly so sorry! My cousin,” the man turns over his shoulder to glare at a widely smiling Barry Allen, who’s being pulled away by Hal back onto the dance floor, “he’s an idiot and he pushed me a little too hard. I didn’t mean to hit your chair, promise-- oh, god , please don’t be pissed.”
Jaime stares at the man a little bit more and notices the sunspots lining his cheeks and nose, looking like freckles but not precisely. He’s seen the same tiny patches of darker skin on his mother’s hands, but never had he seen them on someone’s face (he knew Barry had them, he just hadn’t gotten close enough to see them yet). Jaime wonders how those sunspots would look up-close, if they moved when this man laughed or smiled, if he could connect them until a figure appeared.
“I, uh, think I broke your friend, Jay,” the man says, when he recieves no answer, and Jason barks a laugh on the other side of the table, “Is he okay?”
“He’ll be fine,” Shuri pipes in, trying not to burst into laughter, “just give him a minute to adjust.”
“Ah,” is the eloquent response that finally comes out of Jaime’s lips, “that’s--that’s okay. ‘M not--not broken, hah.”
“Iconic words,” Harley mocks, and Jaime turns to glare at the younger man, “they’ll go down in the quote book, Jaime.”
The Three Terrors give him a knowing look, like they’re hearing every little thought he’s having about the auburn haired man, and he feels heat prickling at the back of his neck. Jaime surely hopes he’s not blushing, or that it’s not noticeable at the very least.
“Ignore them,” Reyes finally turns around in his seat, after having told the other three to shut up with a well-practiced glare, “ please . I’m--uh--don’t worry. About crashing. And--uh--I’m Jaime. Jaime Reyes. It’s a pleasure. Not the crash, just--ah.”
He stops talking then, feeling like an idiot. Jaime Reyes, twenty-three years old, doesn’t know how to translate anything, apparently.
The other man beams at him and-- ay, cabrón[6]. Jaime’s pretty sure he’s just died and gone to heaven.
“Bart,” the other man says, sliding to the seat next to him, “Bart Allen--do you mind if I sit here?”
There is nothing in this world that Jaime wants more than that.
“Go right ahead,” he says, and hopes he doesn’t sound too desperate, and--wait, “Aren’t all Allens supposed to be blonde and blue eyed?”
(Not that he’s complaining, of course, he’s just genuinely curious.)
Bart laughs, and it’s absolutely the most amazing sound Jaime has heard in his life, “I mean, yeah, sure,” he answers, shrugging, “There’s always a black sheep, though--the Allens have an auburn sheep.”
“With green eyes,” Jaime says, and hopes it sounds flirty instead of breathless.
“Yeah,” Bart says and smiles at him like he’s a goddamn genius, “with green eyes.”
There’s a small moment, a pause in the conversation, where Jaime gets lost in those green eyes of Bart’s again, and--god, if he were standing, he’d have weak knees. He can see the sunspots closer now, so he notices that they’re very much not like freckles, and his breath catches in his throat. He tries to play it off with a flimsy cough.
“Well,” Jason’s voice breaks him out of his stupor, and he turns to look at the man across the table from him, as he stands up, “Jaime’s getting all gooey, so I’m thinking I’m gonna leave right about now ,” Reyes has known this man for all of thirty minutes and he’s about to commit murder, “Pipsqueaks, you coming with?”
The Three Terrors all nod, in various states of enthusiasm, and bid Jaime farewell as they bound behind Jason. Before she goes, Shuri winks an eye at him in what he assumes is supposed to be camaraderie, but that feels like betrayal. Peter wishes him luck as he passes his chair, while Harley pats his shoulder, making kissy noises at him. They’re nineteen , por el amor de Dios.
Reyes watches them all leave, aware that Bart is still staring at him and that he is probably blushing by now and it probably is very noticeable. Once Harley has finally disappeared into the crowd, Jaime knows there’s no possible way that he can keep avoiding the other man’s look, so he takes a tentative peek back.
And finds Bart smiling at him in a way that reminds him a lot of Michael staring at Ted from across the Reyes’ diner table, the first few times his godfather had brought his then boyfriend to meet what he considered his family. All soft adoration and wonder, like Teddy was everything he wanted to have for the rest of his life.
In this case, like Jaime was the only person in this place, and nothing else mattered to Bart Allen.
“So,” Jaime tries to talk around the knot in his throat, feeling like all the air is leaving his lungs, “my friends are clearly very weird.”
Bart laughs, eyes crinkling at the corner, “Jason’s a work of art, I’ll have to admit that,” he shrugs, “the others just seem to follow his lead.”
“You’ve known the Terrors for a long time?” Reyes wonders, playing with a forgotten silver spoon still on the table cloth, “I mean--Peter and the rest?”
“You call them the Terrors ?” auburn eyebrows shoot up, smile amused, “Why, everyone has been speaking such nice things about you, Jaime Reyes, and it seems you’re not all that, are you?”
“The Three Terrors, yeah--I used to be the fourth in that equation,” Jaime shrugs, but counters, “You been asking about me? Or are people at this wedding just really interested in this kid from El Paso?”
Jaime tries not to grin when Bart’s cheeks and the tip of his ears tinge a lovely shade of pink, dusting over the sunspots he had been so enraptured by at first.
“I mean,” the other man brings a hand to scratch at the back of his neck, laughing nervously, and his eyes look away from Jaime, “I don’t want to say that people are talking about you, cause I’ve got no idea about that, but the alternative is that you’ll find out I literally just asked my cousin and his boyfriend who you were, and that’s actually very, very embarrassing--mortifying, really--so maybe we can forget about this whole thing and--”
Jaime leans forward, placing a hand over the man’s mouth, and smiling, “That’s alright,” he says, hopefully getting to flirty now, “I can tell you who I am, instead, if that’s what you want.”
Bart’s eyes widen, his blush deeper now, and-- Dios mío , Jaime is not going to survive this wedding but he will try his best to, at least.
“I’d like that,” Allen answers, once Jaime’s pulled his hand away, hovering between them like he doesn’t really want to stop touching the other man’s skin, “very much, in fact.”
“One condition, though,” Reyes continues, finally bringing his hand back to his own body, “If I tell you all my dirty little secrets, then I have to know some of yours.”
He doesn’t mean it for it to sound like that , but oh well.
Bart, however, doesn’t seem fazed. It’s admirable how flustered he gets by the small things but takes the innuendo in stride.
“You sure you’ll be able to deal with that, Mister Reyes?” he asks, green eyes locking with brown for the longest second of Jaime’s entire life, “I don’t think you could handle it.”
Jaime grins, although his challenge is probably lost in how red his cheeks must be by this point, “Try me, Auburn Haired Allen.”
They talk for what feels like an eternity. Bart tells him about life in Central City, the place where all Allens seem to have sprung out from, and about Jay and Joan, his grandparents. He doesn’t talk much about his parents and Jaime tries not to make his own assumptions. Reyes really enjoys just listening to him talk.
Bart is a track-team athlete and trying out for the Olympics next year. He was named “like” Barry only because his Aunt Nora had snatched the name before his father could, and everyone called him “little Barry” for a whole year when he was thirteen, before his cousin himself had asked the family to stop. Steve nicknamed him “little slugger” not long after that, when he got a split lip trying to defend Tim Wayne, even though he wasn’t the first Allen cousin to get into a fight in a back alley (or in Clint’s case, a Walmart parking lot).
Jaime, in turn, tells him about Milagro and how he’s lived his entire life in El Paso despite having seen so much of the world thanks to his godfather. He talks about his mother’s clinic and his father’s mechanic shop that Tony refurbished years back when he first met the Reyes family, when Jaime had been seventeen. Bart listens, enraptured, to Jaime’s recounting of Ted and Michael’s wedding--how it had been one of the best and worst days of his life because he loved seeing his godfather happy but felt like Ted was slipping through his fingers.
“I was such an idiot,” Jaime admits, laughing, “I couldn’t get rid of Teddy even if I wanted to.”
Allen is a great listener, so he asks all the pertinent questions when Jaime talks about college and being an engineering career. Jaime can’t stop listening when Bart starts going off about art school, about how much he loves what he does, and feels his chest constrict with every beat his heart takes.
His mother always told him he was quick with feelings, Jaime just never imagined it would be so literal.
Cada vez [7]
Jaime lets out a sound that, later, he’ll think back as being the most embarrassing sound he’s made in his twenty-three years of life, but that right now only indicates his excitement.
Cada vez que lo veo pasar
“Ni de pedo [8],” Reyes turns in his seat, staring at the band in dumbfounded amazement, “Dios, this is my song .”
Somewhere on the dance floor, Tony bumps into Ted and they start screaming the next part of the lyrics. With so much noise, it’s pretty indistinguishable, but the intention is very much there. Jaime hasn’t felt this heavy of an urge to go join his godfather since Milagro’s quinceañera last year.
Before his instincts can take over, however, he turns back to Bart, smiling brightly and unabashedly, “You have to dance with me.”
To which Bart only starts shaking his head, very firmly, laughing anxiously while he leans back in his seat, away from Jaime’s outstretched hand.
“No way, buddy,” Bart tells him, and it seems final, but Jaime really wants to take this white boy out to dance, “Dancing is definitely not a trait that runs in this family. Did you see Steve? He looked ridiculous trying to follow Tony! Barry only knows how to dance because the Gods graced him with talent for everything he does. I, on the other hand, are just your regular idiotic Allen. We don’t dance. It’s against Allen co--”
“Please,” Jaime begs, standing up from his chair, and trying to give Bart his own brand of Milagro’s puppy face, “I’ll teach you--I’ll go slow, it’ll be fun!”
Bart quirks an eyebrow at him, “You’ll go slow? On this rhythm?”
“Okay, fine,” Jaime concedes, “maybe not slow , but we can stay on the outskirts of the dance floor so no one will step on your precious toes. Think of this as running!”
“Except, you know, it’s about a hundred times more complicated and you have an honest advantage on me,” the other man tells him, but actually reaches for Jaime’s offered hand, “If I step on your toes I’m going to blame it on genetics and so will you, understood?”
Jaime nods, his grin becoming wider as Bart’s hand wraps around his own, and he pulls the man up and onto the dance floor. He keeps true to his word, stopping just at the edge of the linoleum that encases the dancing guests, and tugging lightly at Bart until they’re in front of each other. For all his confidence, Jaime is suddenly feeling unsure. Now that they’re standing, Jaime notices that he’s barely an inch or two taller than Bart.
“Do you mind if I--ah,” his hand hovers awkwardly over Bart’s waist, deeply self-conscious of how uncomfortable this particular part was, “it would be--ah--”
Bart snorts lightly, taking his hand and pressing it firmly against his hip, “And you were the one who wanted to dance, dork .”
Jaime will not stand for this slander, so he throws caution to the wind, and pulls Bart flush to his body by his hips, smiling what he hopes is an innocent smile to top it all off. It’s going to be a little more difficult to dance Selena [7] like this, but Jaime will manage.
“Think you can follow my lead?” Jaime asks, “I’ll start small, okay? Cumbias [9], especially this song, can be very flexible, so steps can vary from very, very simple to absolute madness.”
Bart takes in a deep breath, but doesn’t keep it in his lungs for a long time. His chest rises and falls in one flowy movement and Jaime smiles to himself, “Do you know how to dance that absolute madness?”
“I’m latine, Bart,” Jaime answers, as if that explained anything, his head already bobbing to the music, “From a border city, to top that--so yeah, I grew up dancing.”
“Okay, then,” the auburn haired man smiles at Reyes--Jaime is never going to get tired of that smile, “Teach me, Mister Border City.”
So Jaime does.
He starts slowly, telling Bart the basic movement, the one all beginners start with. One foot backward, angling your body along with it, and then back center, only to do the same with your other foot. Bart does very well the first couple of steps, until Jaime tells him that there’s some hip movement there that he’s supposed to add. The auburn haired Allen groans, throwing his head back a little bit, and Jaime can’t bite back the grin that’s stretching his lips. [10]
“It’s not that difficult,” Jaime tells him, as the band moves from Bidi Bidi Bom Bom to Carcacha, “You just gotta let loose a little bit, follow the line of your feet behind you, it’ll come naturally if you stop thinking so much about it.”
“Little bit hard to stop thinking about it,” Bart tells him, his eyes turning to look at his feet, “Easy for you to say when you’re a natural.”
Jaime laughs, “I wasn’t born with skills, I just acquired them,” he shrugs, pushing with his hand on Bart’s hip to prepare him for a spin, “We’re gonna try a turn now, but you need to follow my lead, okay?”
Bart’s green eyes turn to look up at him, wide as saucers, “I can’t even move my hips and you want me to spin ?”
“You’ll get it, you’ll see,” Jaime encourages, pushing the other man with a little bit more force, “I’m giving you the cues, it’s okay. See how I’m pushing you away a little further every time? I’m making space for you to turn. I’ll lift my hand a bit and you’ll spin, okay?”
“Okay,” Bart swallows visibly, “so how do I go back to the step when the twirl is done?”
Jaime pushes him again, but doesn’t lift his hand, “It’ll be nearly automatic, don’t worry about it. It’s just a basic spin, you can do this.”
Bart can . Jaime has to audibly tell him when to spin, but the other man doesn’t so much as think twice and falls into the back step with ease. He’s a little nervous and trips a little bit on the second step he gives, but Jaime catches him just in time and smiles brightly at him.
“You did it!” Reyes says, “You see? I’m sure you’ll be amazing with a little practice.”
The other man blushes a lovely shade of pink and Jaime’s heart leaps in his chest, “I’m pretty sure I couldn’t do this with anyone but you.”
The back of Jaime’s neck feels hot where Bart’s hand is pressing against him and he tries to look somewhere else that isn’t the other man’s bright green eyes. He’s going to die before the night is over.
The band moves away from the Selena section and into more classic forms of cumbias . Next, it seems, is La Sonora Dinamita [9], and Jaime really is about to lose it.
“Do you mind if we move to the next steps?” Jaime asks, unable to stop his face from breaking into a full grin, “This song is a little bit--I guess fast is the word, but maybe you’d rather just--”
“No, it’s fine,” Bart answers, almost immediately, “I’m actually really enjoying this.”
Jaime doesn’t give him the run-down on the more complicated steps, but he tries to get him to move a little bit further than the back step. Bart is quick to learn, and besides some minor trips here and there, there aren’t any accidents. They dance for a whole three more songs, before someone is calling to Bart over his shoulder.
“Aw, shucks,” Steve is being led across the dance floor by an overeager Tony, who’s already sweaty and red in the cheeks--they’ve been dancing almost their entire wedding, “Look at that Barry, our little slugger got the best dancer in the place.”
Jaime laughs, throwing his head back as he spins Bart one more time, changing their places so he’s staring at Steve and Barry instead, “I think you shouldn’t say that right in front of your husband, Captain.”
“He’s right,” Tony says, and punctuates his statement by stepping on the captain’s toes.
“Allens don’t lie, though,” Barry answers, laughing a little as Hal dips him dramatically, his head almost touching the floor--people around here are ridiculous, “You really are the best dancer tonight.”
“Am I a joke to you?” Hal bites back, pulling his boyfriend upward and continuing on their dance. Hal’s back step could use some work, but he’s better than Mister Queen, who keeps stepping on his wife’s toes.
“You guys are being annoying,” Bart sing-songs, and then suddenly loses his footing and trips over himself.
Jaime is caught unaware, so he’s pulled down along with Bart as they stumble to the grass. Reyes is only slightly thankful that his godfather had him wear a black button up instead of the standard white, so he doesn’t worry about any potential grass stains. He manages to get a hand underneath him before slamming against Bart’s body, but the way the other man’s head ricochets off the floor looks painful.
“Hey, you okay?” Jaime asks, trying to push himself off the other as fast as possible, but finding his legs tangled with Bart’s own, making it harder than initially thought.
Bart groans, shutting his eyes shut for a second, before nodding, “All good. Might need to lay down here for a moment.”
Jaime laughs, dropping his head to Allen’s chest momentarily, “Kinda wish you had passed on the dance now?”
“Nah,” Bart answers, and Jaime could melt with the way the auburn haired man is looking at him when he meets his gaze, “I was having a lot of fun before my cousins decided to be assholes.”
“Hey, hey!” Hal calls from his place somewhere in Jaime’s back, “Keep it PG-13, you two. We have kids around here.”
Jaime groans, untangling his legs from Bart’s so he can finally stand up, and is helped up by the Kent’s eldest son. Conner smiles at him, patting his back, and Unidentifiable Wayne Kid #1 (who Jaime now knows is Tim) swoops in to pick Bart off the floor.
“A valiant effort to get our buddy here to dance,” Conner tells him, straightening his crooked tie, “You good?”
“Yeah,” Jaime answers, dusting some of the grass from his pants, “We should get you a chair, Bart.”
The two boys show Jaime to the table they had been occupying earlier, setting Bart down on one of the seats. Tim is about to say something, before Barry comes, a white towel in his hand.
“I brought ice,” the older man says, opening the towel to reveal a plastic bag with ice cubes, “How you doing, slugger?”
“I’ve gone through worse,” Bart says, accepting the offered pack and pressing it to the back of his head, “Like that time I got distracted for a moment and tripped over my shoelaces in a competition--not only did it hurt , it also damaged my very fragile ego.”
Barry rolls his eyes, patting his cousins cheek with affection, “Tell me if you need anything.”
“Will do, no-sunspots.”
So, not Barry. This was Clint Romanoff.
The older Allen turns from his place, rubbing a thumb under Bart’s eyes before letting his hand drop, and smiles a strained smile at Jaime. Reyes holds the blue eyes for as long as he can, before yielding altogether. Clint makes a low sound that resembles a laugh, and pats Jaime’s shoulders as he walks past him.
“See you around, Mini Kord.”
Reyes answers with a hum, although he’s confused, and then simply arches an eyebrow at Bart.
“Ignore him,” the younger man tells him, waving his unoccupied hand in dismissal, “Clint is being his usual weird, overprotective self. Come sit with me.”
Jaime does as he is told, sitting on the chair next to Bart and only laughing a little when Allen props his legs up on his lap, “Sorry about not catching you.”
Tim, who’s still standing behind Bart’s chair, snorts, only earning him a glare from green eyes. Conner does Bart a favor, and pulls Tim by the back of his suit away from the table. Jaime wonders sometimes why being Ted Kord’s godson turned out to be so weird.
“It’s okay,” Bart finally answers, putting the towel down, “Sorry about tripping. You looked like you were really enjoying dancing.”
Jaime shakes his head, smiling. They’re already playing No Rompas Más [11], which Jaime thought it was a little early for, but he supposed Steve had also made a pick for songs to be played by the band, and they couldn’t really go with cumbias forever.
“I don’t think you meant to fall on purpose,” he shrugs, “I’m pretty sure the good captain and Barry are devious dance-wreckers, anyways. That’s on them .”
Bart honest to god chortles, leaning back in his seat, one of his hands coming to rest on the left side of his chest as he throws his head back. It takes Jaime a little off-guard, but he’s too marveled to actually look away.
Although he’s been marvelling at Bart’s entire persona since he saw him first.
“I’ve never heard anyone say that about Barry and Steve, of all people,” Bart says, after he’s done laughing, “but you definitely are full of surprises, Mister Reyes.”
Jaime’s hum is amused, “And here, the night is not even halfway over.”
They fall into what can be considered companionable silence. They’re both staring out at the dance floor, where people are slowly giving up on Payaso de Rodeo [11], and Jaime starts counting the brave people still trying to keep up.
Tony is still leading the crowd, twirling to change sides like a goddamn pro, with most of his kids following after him with the ease of constant practice. Barbie’s heels have been kicked off, and Harley and Peter keep pushing at each other playfully while trying to dance. A woman about Barbie’s age with short-cropped hair has joined the Stark Pack in the middle of the dance floor; Jaime recognizes her as Nebula. Jason looks like he’s about to quit, but he is holding his own with Morgan in his arms, trying to keep to the edges.
Jaime is surprised to find Mrs. Queen and Mrs. Romanoff both moving swiftly and with ease, skirts held in their hands to allow movement. Their husbands stand off to one side, cheering for their respective partners to last longer, while Steve just looks on with arms crossed over his chest, obviously mesmerized by his husband. Hal is pulling Barry along with him, as the blonde man tries not to trip over himself, smile so big it could light up a city block.
Reyes cannot stop smiling when his eyes fall on Ted, who is trying his best to keep up with one very dressed-down Michael Kord. He doesn’t know how or when it happened, but he’s glad that his godfathers have made peace with each other.
“What are you beaming at?” Bart’s voice snaps him back to reality, but Jaime’s smile doesn’t fade, “Found someone cuter to spend the evening with?”
Jaime laughs, shakes his head and lets one of his hands fall on Bart’s knee on instinct, “No one’s cuter than you here,” he says, and immediately regrets it--there’s a reason why he is single .
Bart only gapes at him, green eyes blinking in quick succession as his mind registers the words said. Jaime thinks this would be a great time for the Earth to open up and swallow him whole. He wonders if there are any man-eating plants around the gardens that will do him that favor.
“I--uh--,” he removes the hand from Allen’s knee and turns back to the dance floor, the familiar crawl of heat coming to settle in the back of his neck, “My godfathers. They--uh--they were fighting. It’s why Ted brought me but not Michael. It seems like Michael made the trip over here to apologize or something. He’s never been really good at dancing, but he knows Teddy really likes it, so I guess that’s a big enough gesture, huh?”
Jaime doesn’t actually expect an answer, but what he gets it’s probably a lot better.
“There’s no one I’d rather be spending this wedding with, either,” Bart’s voice is soft when he speaks. “I’m kinda glad Barry and Hal pushed me towards you.”
Jaime tries not to jump a foot in the air when a hand comes to press between his shoulder blades, but he does turn to look at Bart again. The warmth seeping through his jacket travels through the rest of his body, like electricity, and Reyes wonders what would happen if he just leaned forward enough to kiss the auburn haired man.
Bart’s eyes are crinkled at the corners, his lips turned up into a soft smile. It takes all of Jaime’s willpower to not give in to his instincts.
“What is this dance even?” Bart asks then, cheeks pink. He’s resumed to holding the ice pack to the back of his head, leaning back into his seat.
“Uh,” Jaime answers, trying to untangle his tongue to actually speak , “It’s a tradition. Mexicans play No rompas más and Payaso de Rodeo during every celebration imaginable. I don’t know how far the tradition goes, but my dad’s family is from Juárez , my mom’s from somewhere in Tamaulipas , and most family gatherings have it.
“See how it’s a repeating pattern? That’s really all there is to it. Two right, two left, two back and two front--then you turn on that last one. The first song is the slow one and people get really silly about how they change sides--the most common way to do it is by hopping but some people also twirl--like Tony. No rompas más is only the warm up, whereas Payaso de Rodeo is just basically organized chaos .”
The pitch of the song gets higher with every beat it becomes faster, and the people that are still on the dancefloor try their best to not trip over each other. Jason has given up, as Morgan whines about it all the way to the sidelines, but Natasha and Dinah are still going as their husbands become increasingly louder. Hal and Barry are howling with laughter, leaning against each other while they try to catch their breaths, moved away from the dance floor to allow the others to dance. Michael’s already pulling Ted away, saying something about his heart condition that Jaime winces at only slightly.
“How can chaos be organized?” Bart lets out a snort when Harley walks away from the linoleum floor, coming to lay down on the grass face down in front of Shuri.
A crowd has formed around the floor. Jaime’s glad they can still see something.
“You’re looking at it,” Reyes motions his hands forward, illustrating, “whoever lasts longer, wins .”
Allen makes a confused sound in the back of his throat, “Wins what ?”
Jaime shrugs and grins, “Honor and glory.”
“For dancing.”
“For beating Payaso de Rodeo ,” Jaime stresses his words maybe a little too much, “I’m riding my money on Barbie. She’s a 100% norteña and she’s left the heels. Not to mention she’s younger than Tony--she’ll make it through to the end.”
“What about Peter?” Bart’s voice sounds like a challenge, “He’s the only one who keeps up with me on the treadmill. That’s gotta count for something.”
“This isn’t about fitness , Bart--it’s about skill .”
Bart snorts again, “So, why aren’t you up there? You could beat anyone there if all it takes is skill.”
“Of course I could,” Jaime preens, proudly, “but I’m here with you, and I can bet on Barbie and watch you eat your words.”
“I wasn’t betting on Peter,” Allen huffs out, rolling his eyes, “I think Natasha’s going to win. Professional ballerina and all.”
Jaime takes a moment to watch the dance floor again. The song has become ridiculous, but the lucky stragglers have dwindled down to four now, as Nebula gives up and waves goodbye at Bárbara. Peter is looking a little red, but his face is determined, and he follows after Tony almost flawlessly--if it weren’t for how much concentration he’s giving, as compared to Tony’s or Bárbara’s lax expressions, Jaime would really bet on him instead. Tony and Bárbara seem, by far, the most competitive, throwing playful banter back and forth that gets lost in the music. He supposes it has to do with Barbie’s hops instead of turns.
Natasha, he notices, doesn’t even look like she’s breaking a sweat, and where Tony sometimes stumble with the amount of twirling he’s been doing, she’s impassive and graceful as she turns to the next side.
“I stand by what I said,” Jaime says, anyways, leaning back in his seat with a smile on his face, “Barbie is making it to the end.”
“Oh, come on!” Bart says, arms up in the air, “She’s only hopping! Isn’t that easier than twirling?”
“There are no rules that say you have to complete Payaso de Rodeo in difficult mode,” Reyes says, matter-of-factly, “If Barbie wins it will be because of Natasha’s hubris.”
“What’s on the line, then?”
Jaime arches an eyebrow Allen’s way, “What do you mean?”
“Yeah,” Bart insists, smirking, “if I’m betting on the cousin-in-law and you’re betting on your surrogate older sister, then what are the stakes? What will I win?”
Ay, cabrón . Jaime really should stop listening to the little voice in his head that tells him culo, sino every goddamn time there’s a challenge.
“When I win, ese ,” Reyes fires right back, hyper aware of the song becoming more and more indistinguishable, probably coming to an end soon, “I get to pick a song at the end of the night for you to dance with me.”
He’s about to be very pleased about himself and his flirting abilities, when Bart grins toothily at him, and says, “Well, once I win, I’ll just get to pick the restaurant you’re having dinner with me tomorrow night.”
That’s it. Jaime’s done for .
“You’re on .”
They both turn around to the dance floor again when, effectively, both Barbie and Natasha are the only two still going. Tony’s leaning against Steve, trying to catch his breath, while Peter has decided to join Harley on the grass by Shuri. Jaime feels something coil tightly in his chest, watching expectantly for what will happen next, and one of the band’s vocalists makes a comment about how close the competition is tonight.
“Avenge us all, Bárbara!” Harley screams from his place, still red in the face but with his breath back in his lungs, “Do it! Win it!”
“Come on, baby! I know you can do this!” Clint’s speech is a little garbled, but the sentiment is definitely there, “Beat the Stark!”
“Leave my kid alone , Romanoff!”
When Natasha stretches her arm out towards Bárbara and the younger woman takes it, Jaime kind of figures what’s about to happen next. The music’s already pretty much gibberish, but the two women start slowing down at the same time, moving in tandem with their linked hands to follow. Tony groans some loud curse word under his breath, and Pepper has to remind him there are kids present (mainly, her kid). Clint, for all his display of bravado earlier, truly looks like he’s about to cry.
“Does that mean we both win?” Bart asks, confused.
Jaime thinks, if anything, it means they both lose , but he’s not about to say that out loud.
“Pretty sure that’s what it means,” he answers instead, and turns to smile at the auburn haired man, “So, dance later tonight when you’re feeling like it and dinner tomorrow?”
“Sounds about right.”
Most of the guests have filed out by now. It’s pretty much the end of the wedding, so the only people still milling about are family members and close friends, and the dance floor is already almost empty. The band had played for two more hours worth of songs Steve had chosen (and Jaime will never understand that man’s music taste) before packing up their instruments and leaving. After midnight, Peter had connected his phone to the sound system and started playing requested songs from the people still present.
He’d waited until Bart was feeling better from that hit to his head to actually request the song he had been thinking about. His plans are stopped short when Allen issues out a quick apology, and leaves in a flurry behind Steve and Tony, who both look too excited about nothing in particular. Jaime uses this spare time to go say hi to Michael, who’s being absolutely gross about having made up with his godfather.
“Where did your man go?” Ted asks, legs propped over Michael’s lap, personal space completely forgotten, “I thought you were having a good time.”
“I was,” Jaime says, and then rephrases, “I am . He just had to leave on an emergency with Tony and the Captain for some reason. He said he’d come back.”
Jaime hopes so, at least.
“Ah, it must be the proposal,” Michael throws out, off-handed, before his husband clasps a hand over his mouth.
“Spoilers much, Mike?”
The blonde man shrugs, rolling his eyes. Jaime doesn’t think that explains anything.
“What proposal?”
Teddy shushes him. Strongly . Jaime arches an eyebrow.
“I swear you’re both just terrible at keeping secrets.”
He’s about to retort that there’s no way he can keep a secret if he hasn’t been let in on that secret, but there’s a crackle coming from the sound system, and Jaime forgets all about it. Reyes turns over his heels to where the sound came from, and finds Hal Jordan going down on one knee in the middle of the dancefloor, a very shocked Barry Allen looking down at his boyfriend with a hand over his heart.
Oh, that proposal .
Jaime cries, of course , and catches Bart’s eyes across the linoleum floor where he is standing next to his two other cousins. He tries to wipe his tears before the other man sees them, but Allen just smiles sympathetically at him, and brushes a quick hand under green eyes--so, they’re both babies , that’s good enough for him. Reyes doesn’t particularly know what their role had been in all of this, but he thinks the change in music and the very colorful smoke might have something to do with them.
This wedding is out to kill him .
The next time he thinks he can request Peter for the song and ask Bart to dance, the auburn haired man is trying to wrestle himself free from Hal’s headlock, but not succeeding. Afraid that he might overstep some intimate, family moment, Jaime decides to back away for the time being, and hopes that the night doesn’t start disappearing through his fingers.
There’s still an hour to go until 3:00 am, and Tony did say there would be chilaquiles [12] later.
He’s sitting on the original table his godfather and he had been sat at. Tim and Conner joined him earlier, striking up pleasant conversation that ranged from college to what odd lies they believed from their parents as children. Conner and Tim, he finds out, have been dating for quite a while. Tim tells him about his weird relationship with his brother, Jason, to which Jaime replies that the other Wayne child hadn’t seemed so bad when they met earlier.
“That’s because you haven’t caught him in one of his moods,” Bart’s voice comes from behind him, before the auburn haired man is shoving Jaime’s feet from the chair in front of him and plopping down on the vacated seat, “Jay can be cruel.”
Jaime has to force himself to stop from just taking Bart’s hand and pulling him to the dance floor, some annoying voice in his head telling him it would be inappropriate to do so without asking first. He also doesn’t want to look desperate.
“Captain Jordan finally let you go?” Reyes asks, and lifts his feet back unto Bart’s lap, who simply huffs out in response.
“Can’t believe you call him captain --but yeah,” Bart sinks in his seat a little, adjusting Jaime’s feet on his lap, “sorry I disappeared on you. We’ve been preparing that proposal for a few weeks and Hal really wanted it to be perfect.”
Jaime grins, shrugging, “It was,” he admits, “shed a tear or two. Maybe.”
“You were full on crying, Jaime,” Bart fires back, one of his hands coming to wrap around Reyes’ ankle, “It was kinda cute.”
“Oh, shush,” Jaime digs his heel into Bart’s thigh, letting out a yelp when the other man retaliates by pinching the skin left exposed by Jaime’s slacks, “you were crying, too, anyways.”
“My cousin was getting proposed to. I think I had a reason to.”
“This weird flirting is making me want to puke,” Conner pipes, standing up from his place and extending a hand towards his boyfriend, “Ready to get out of here and maybe find a closet to make out in?”
“Conner!”
“Now you’re making me want to puke,” Bart retaliates, poking his tongue out at his friends before they leave. He yells after them, for good measure, “I want it on record that I hate both of you!”
Conner flips him off, while Tim rolls his eyes, red up to the tips of his ears and the edge of his hairline.
As Bart settles back into his chair again, the same tension Jaime had felt before Barbie and Natasha finished Payaso de Rodeo becomes present again. He blames it on the mojito Michael got for him earlier, but he’s really feeling up for that dance now.
“Hey, so,” Bart’s voice breaks him out of his reverie, “how about that last dance now? Before we all have to go home.”
Tony would never let us leave any earlier than 5:00 am , Jaime thinks, but promptly ignores the thought in favor of standing up. Not desperate at all .
“I’ve got the perfect song in mind,” he says, “It’s a little different from what we were dancing earlier, but you have to trust me on this one, okay?”
Bart arches an eyebrow, but takes Jaime’s offered hand and lets himself be led. Reyes is determined to stop acting like a fool and take charge for once, so as soon as he’s told Peter (who’s dozing off in one of the neighboring tables, beside the other two Terrors) what song to play next, and made it to the center of the dance floor again (where only the older couples are still swaying side to side to the music) he pulls Bart flush against him.
“Oh ,” Bart’s voice comes out a little breathless, taken aback by Jaime’s sudden confidence, “so we’re doing this now?”
“Yes, your hands go around my neck now, it’ll be easier for you to follow like that,” Jaime answers, leaving no space for his voice to waver, before turning to Steve and Tony, who’re dancing behind them, “sorry, Tones. I’m gonna be stepping on your moment for a little bit.”
Tony only smiles at him, head resting on top of his husband’s chest, “Sorpréndeme, junior. ”
With one final nod that probably looks too serious, Jaime then turns to the general direction where Peter is supposed to be, and gives him a small wave so he puts the song on play. [13]
“Said you needed to trust me, right?” Jaime turns back to Bart, as the first notes on the accordion come, and Tony (or maybe Barbie) makes a high-pitched noise, “You gotta let me lead you. If it feels like I’m pulling you it’s because I am. All you need to do is have quick feet--and you’re a runner, so I’m counting on that.”
Bart chokes out a laugh, “If we fall-- again --then it’s going to be your fault for trusting me too much.”
Reyes will take those chances.
Jaime likes to think he’s not a cliché, but his dad’s from Juárez and his mom is from Mier , so he thinks he’s allowed to be stereotypical sometimes. Especially when it comes to songs. He gets to pick all the cheesy, norteño songs his heart desires, and no one can give him shit about it. Especially when said song is a classic, anyways. Eslabón por eslabón is the most romantic regional mexican song to have ever been written. Lalo Mora was a genius .
“So,” Jaime begins, already moving in his place, his hand pressed tightly against Bart’s lower back to direct him to the same side that he’s going, “see how our knees are touching? I know it sounds weird, but my knee will give you the first cues to move and to turn--my hand on your back will follow. This song is pretty slow, and this time you won’t be doing the twirling alone.”
“Quick feet, then?”
Jaime snorts, upping the speed a little bit, his movements like a spring, “I know you got them, you just gotta use ‘em.”
Bart looks determined as he nods, and doesn’t turn to look down at their feet to check if he’s about to fall over like last time, “Lead the way, Reyes.”
So, Jaime does. He’s actually upset that the song isn’t longer (even when it’s just as long as any other song) but he tries to make the best of it while he can. Bart doesn’t seem as fazed with this one as he was with cumbias --and all things considered, cumbias have a lot more steps than what they’re doing right now--and the two men only trip once or twice during the full three minutes that the song goes on for.
“Con qué placer te comparto, ” Jaime mumbles his way through the last verses, twirling with Bart in his arms as the auburn haired man laughs, “este pobre corazón.”
“You gonna tell me what that means?” Bart asks, while Lalo Mora prepares the next phrasing.
Jaime shakes his head, but doesn’t offer an explanation. Instead, he sings, “Unidos toda la vida, ” he wonders if his grin could get any bigger than this, “corazón, ” Reyes leans his head against Bart’s jawline, feels the other man scratch the shorter hairs in the back of his neck, “con corazón. ”
“Well, it sounds nice, anyways,” Bart’s voice is pitched lower, his breath ghosts over Jaime’s ear, making him shudder slightly, “I hope it’s nice.”
“It’s the nicest ,” Jaime whispers back, wonders when he’s become such an emotional sap, and finishes the last verse, “eslabón por eslabón.”
As the music comes to an end, drums kicking in last, Jaime finally stops their swaying. He stays there, leaning against Bart’s side for a little while more, but slowly starts to move back away from the other man. Half of him yells in frustration, instantly missing the warmth that had been covering his front, but Jaime ignores himself, resolutely. He hopes there will be more time for that.
“So, we can check that off our list,” Bart is still close enough that his breath ghosts over Jaime’s cheeks, and Reyes smiles, “I know a great restaurant just a block away from Stark Tower, if you’re staying there, too.”
Jaime’s not staying at Stark Tower, but it doesn’t matter.
“That sounds great,” Jaime answers, meeting Bart’s green eyes, “when are you going back to Central?”
“Uh, probably on Wednesday. Jay and Joan want to make sure all the guests make it back to their own cities before getting back.”
Bart’s so close. So, so close. Jaime could just kiss him.
“You?”
Jaime shrugs, “Tuesday morning. I have classes.”
“You could give me your number,” the auburn haired man says, and leans back, finally taking Jaime’s temptation away, “and I could give you mine. We could--ah--get to know each other better.”
“I’d like that,” Jaime says, and steps away, even though his hand is still set loosely on Bart’s waist, “I’d like that very much, de hecho.”
“Would you mind if I kissed you?” Bart blurts out, and his entire face is red, like the taillights of Jaime’s old chevy, “Like, right now? Would you mind if I--uh--it’s just--I’m--”
Jaime laughs, because there’s no way he can’t, and just nods, “Please .”
As the other guests cheer around them (mainly Ted, because he’s embarrassing like that) Jaime thinks about how kissing Bart tastes like lightning and stings like electricity--y al chile [14], that’s perfect for him.