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“Tonyyyyy,” came Steve’s muffled whine.
Tony smiled.
Captain America was unflappable to ridiculous extremes, even in the face of an army of Hydra henchmen or an alien armada. Steve Rogers, on the other hand, when faced with nothing more than Tony Stark’s stubbornness, was a wreck. He slumped over one of Tony’s work benches, hair dishevelled, face buried his arms, surrounded by dozens of metallic crimson wedding invites.
“Steeeeve,” Tony mocked. “I honestly don’t see what the problem is.”
Steve’s head shot up, and he fixed Tony with a look that would have been almost intimidating if he hadn’t had an invitation stuck to his left cheek. Tony plucked it away delicately.
“Don’t give me that look, babe,” he sighed. “I’m serious. It’s not like it’s strictly necessary.”
Steve looked scandalised, almost hurt.
“Of course it’s necessary!” said Steve. “How can you say that? It’s tradition!”
“Because that’s so what we’re going for here,” drawled Tony. “The world’s two most recognisable, male superheroes are getting married, but god forbid the ceremony isn’t traditional.”
The way Steve’s shoulders slumped as he dropped his gaze made Tony want to throw himself under a bus. He’d maintained a solid thirteen-day streak of not-being-a-tactless-asshole-that-hurts-Captain-America’s-feelings, since he’d laughed at the adorable face Steve made as he tried in vain to figure out iTunes.
Now he’d done it again.
“But that’s all the more reason, isn’t it?” Steve mumbled, looking back up at him. “Otherwise what was the point?”
Tony’s heart sank so quickly that he grabbed for the arc reactor, as if it were going to shut down from the strain.
“The point of what?” he choked out. “Of proposing to me?”
Steve’s eyes widened and he gasped, “No! Oh god, Tony no, of course not, I love you, I want to marry you. I just…”
He sighed, saying nothing for a few moments and looking down at his hands again. Tony reached over and took them into his own. Steve breathed deeply, and Tony wondered if he was imagining the way it shuddered. He didn’t look at Tony when he finally spoke.
“’Traditional’ is all I ever wanted,” he said quietly. “Back in Brooklyn, between my size and the way all the other guys seemed to like dames—women, more than me… It just seemed like traditional was something that happened for everyone else, and I’d get- well, my options back then were fairly limited.”
He looked up, straight into Tony’s eyes.
“And then I woke up here, now,” he said. “With you. And it was okay. Suddenly I was allowed to want what everyone else had. When JARVIS told me it was legal, I think I almost cried. So of course I want to marry you. Never doubt that, Tony. But that skinny kid from Brooklyn went through a lot to get me here. I want to do it right. For him.”
And for roughly the 12,637th time since he and Steve Rogers had started their relationship, Tony felt like a complete and total ass.
“I’m sorry,” he said, hoping Steve could hear the sincerity and remorse that dripped from his words.
Steve smiled, and Tony’s heart returned to its rightful place which, whenever he was around his fiancé, was located firmly in his throat.
“It’s okay.”
“No it’s not, but I’ll make it up to you.”
“So you’ll do it?” Steve asked hopefully.
“Of course I will,” Tony reassured him. “But I don’t know how you expect me to just pick someone.”
Steve groaned.
“Tony, it’s not that hard! Just choose a best man already.”
“Oh, easy for you to say, Mr. I’ve-Got-Dibs-On-Clint!” he replied. “But what am I supposed to do?”
“What do you mean?”
Tony smiled, and Steve looked more confused than during the iTunes incident.
“I mean,” said Tony. “That when I hear the words ‘best man’, there’s only one person I think of.”
He leaned over the bench and placed a chaste – well, chaste by Tony Stark’s standards, anyway – kiss on Steve’s mouth.
“And he’s already part of the wedding party.”
Steve flushed so red that Dummy came trundling over with the fire extinguisher.