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“Avengers,” Steve Rogers says before his assembled team. He stands poised and at attention, ever the Captain. “We’re at DefCon One. It is imperative that everything goes off without a hitch. There is no room for error.”
“Oh, My God, Steve,” Natasha says. She looks away from him to scan Rhodey, Scott, and The Vision. They all sit around the Avengers’ conference room. “We’re not secretly invading Latveria, here. You’re just asking Sam to marry you.”
Just. How dare she. Nothing is just with Sam. Steve’s whole body drops. He leans against one of the chairs and outs out a -- dare he say it -- whine. “But what if he says, no.”
The room erupts: “Uuuugh.” “Jesus Christ!” “Not this again.”
“Then he says no.” Everyone whips around to look at Scott, who just shrugs. “Hey, I’ve had a marriage fall apart on me.” He keeps talking despite Rhodey getting him the signal to cut it. “It sucks, but sometimes you’re just better off as friends.”
“Thank you, Scott,” Steve says, “For your valued opinion.” (He's not really thankful.)
“He’s not gonna say no,” Scott says; “I’m just answering your hypothetical question.” Scott meets Natasha’s eyes. “I’ll stop talking now.”
She nods. “Good call.”
Steve clears his throat. “All right, let’s go over the plan. Rhodey, Scott, what’s your status report?”
“We’re good," Rhodey says. "We’re taking Sam camping in Baxter State Park for the weekend. No cell phones, no Internet. Even if something gets out, he won’t know.”
Scott perks up: “I’m still trying to convince him we should just go to Vegas and get black out drunk instead.” Now it's The Vision's time to glare at Scott. “Right, stop talking.”
The Vision reports: “I have secured Chef Francois Payard for the dessert course, yet Chef Leah Chase is unavailable this weekend.”
Steve feels his stomach dump. Dooky Chase's is Sam’s favorite restaurant in the world! They flight down every other month, at least, for a bite and to visit Sam's sister in New Orleans. They went there on their First Official Date. Should he push the date back? Should they fly down there? Could they get a reservation?
“Steve,” Natasha says, snapping Steve out of his panic. “She’s not the only Creole and Southern Chef in the country.”
“She's the best and --"
"Sam deserves the best," she finishes. "We'll get her to cater the wedding, okay?”
No. Not okay. This is not going as plan. “Fine. Fine. But we called her months ago! You have to book these people months in advantage! We’re not Stark!”
Rhodey laughs, “We don’t need Tony.” He pulls out his phone to send a text.
Steve narrows his eyes, quickly thinking, and then widens them. "Do you think Pepper could make some phone calls?”
“She has Waxman, Rasmey, Bayless, and Ripert on speed dial,” Rhodey says.
“What about Colicchio?” Steve watches as Rhodey waits for Pepper to respond.
“Give her fifteen minutes.”
“In the meantime,” Natasha smirks, “You ready for Operation Single Ladies?”
Steve and Natasha spend couple hours getting ready. He hates to admit, but, it's really fun. Natasha drops her shields, smiles and laughs. She, literally and figuratively, ribs him as she applies his beard. Steve relaxes for two seconds to stop freaking out over how much he adores Sam, and loves him, and siiiiigh, Mr. and Mr. Wilson has such a nice ring to it.
Speaking of ring, they now step out of a cab in front of Tiffany's & Co. This is MORE than slightly ridiculous, but never let anyone tell you that Natasha doesn't have a wicked sense of humor. It might just be puns and Dad jokes, but it's there.
She wears a bleach blonde wig, too much eyeshadow, an orange spray tan, and a dress than shows off too much cleavage. He’s not being a prude or a slut shamer, it’s the look she’s going for. He looks like a Tony Stark clone in his designer suit, sunglasses, and ridiculous beard and mustache. He slouches and tries to shrink his broad shoulders.
Natasha says, in a flawless, thick Jersey accent: “Stiff neck or stiff knee, you stand straight at Tiffany’s.”
“I’m doing the Clark Kent thing,” he says playing up his thickest Brooklyn accent.
“That’s doesn’t actually work.”
“Well we’re gonna see, won’t we?”
The second he enters the 5th Avenue story, Steve wishes they'd hoofed it down to the Diamond District. Tiffany's & Co. is a crowded, snooty, tourist trap. Nothing like how he imagined it. Back before the war, Steve could never afford to enter the store; hell, he couldn't even afford to look at their Christmas window directions.
When Natasha flashes Tony’s AMEX Black Card the salesfolk flock to them. Natasha snuggles up to Steve, leans her elbows on the counter, and starts flinging her wrists around like they have no weight. He must bit his lip to muffle giggling. "O. M. G. It's, like, finally happening, and, it's like, so exciting, right?"
The salesperson, a boring looking man in a black suit with a clean haircut, widens his eyes. He fakes a smile. "That's wonderful, Miss. You're here for a ring?"
Natasha laughs, in the most hideous whale noise. She bats Steve's chest. "Oh, no, honey. He ain't marrying me! He's marrying my brother. How fabulous, right? We get to have one of those big, gay weddings. I'm thinking we can even sell the rights to one of those Bravo shows."
"Vicki," he says, "don't get ahead of yourself." He turns to the salesperson. "Don't mind her. You know how woman can get." He mouths 'crazy'.
They spend the next thirty minutes browsing for a ring, and trying on various metals, cuts, and sizes. “Blood diamond, shlum diamond, whatever,” Natasha purrs. “It’s an engagement ring. Buy the rock!”
Steve decides on an elegant platinum ring with a single embedded diamond. He watches the salesman package it in the Tiffany Blue Box. It seems surreal. One never shakes growing up poor. Even now, he's thinking about all the practical ways he could spend the money. Steve looks at the box, and over to Natasha -- beaming sincerely through her insincere guise -- and thinks 'fuck it.' He's only doing this whole marriage thing once; and he's doing it with Sam, who deserves everything, material and spiritual, that Steve could never give anyone else.
Steve drives his motorcycle up to Hamilton Heights. There’s someone he needs to see. He parks the Harley near the back door of the Stone church. Maybe he should’ve left on his disguise? Nah, that’s insane. And this is a Serious Mission. He checks his appearance in the side mirrors, then darts into the Church.
Reverend Paul Wilson sits behind his desk, playing Solitaire on his computer. Steve knocks on the door. Reverend Wilson waves without looking toward the door. “One second.”
Steve waits, watches Reverend Wilson carry the eight over to the nine and then whoosh all the cards fly up for the win. “Now, how can I –“ Reverend Wilson swirls around in his chair. “Captain.” Reverend Wilson is a distinguished man, wrinkled and worn, with a stern smile.
“Reverend.” Steve leans over the desk to shake his hand. Reverend Wilson firmly shakes with one hand and cups his other hand over Steve’s. Steve settles into the seat before the desk. Keeps his shoulders straight, at attention.
The Reverend crosses his fingers in his lap and waits. Jesus Christ, Steve thinks; you fought Nazis and aliens, you can handle Sam’s dad. “Sir, you know I’d do anything for Sam."
He slowly nods, really thinking about it. “When I’m watching him get shot at on the news, I often have my doubts.”
Steve’s face drops. If Steve operated on his full wits, he would know that the Reverend’s messing with him.
The Reverend says, “but, I do. He’d do the same for you.”
“I’d like permission to ask him to marry me.”
The Reverend chuckles. “Would you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And what’d you do if I said no?”
Steve inhales. “Still marry him and then spend the rest of my days trying to get your approval.”
The Reverend snorts. “You have it, on one condition. Darlene expects two grandchildren from each of her babies. No one will ever hear the end of it if you can’t delivery on that.”
Steve laughs. “I’m sure we can work something out.”
He holds up two fingers. “Two.”
“At least.”
“Welcome to the family.”
Boarding plane in Bangor. Sam still clueless. Haven't murdered Scott. ETA to NYC: 2Hrs read Rhodey's text message.
Steve decides to propose in his apartment in Stark Tower. It’s private with a beautiful view of the city.
The Vision overseers Setting The Mood, and instructs Steve to leave and go get ready. He's suspicious, but he knows a good leader sometimes needs to delegate.
He finds Pepper Potts in his walk-in closet. “Where’s Natasha?”
"I sent your security blanket away for the evening.”
“She’s not my security blanket!”
Pepper looks at him, with an expression that reads: Yes, she is; don't even fight me on this. I'm Pepper Potts and I'm the closest you'll ever find to a real life Mary Poppins. She then puts down a jacket for him to try on.
Steve concedes. Natasha kind of is; but, he prefers thinking of her as his badass bestie.
Pepper says, “I thought you’d want some privacy. Otherwise, she’d be spying on you all night.”
“Friday isn’t active in this suite.”
“Like that would’ve stopped Nat.”
“Good point. You’re a peach, Pepper.”
“I know.”
She proceeds to hover, approving and vetoing as she sees fit. They try on various combinations until he settles on a navy blue suit sans tie. With Pepper's approval. Naturally.
"Ah," Pepper says as she receives a text. "They're here. And they brought the gumbo"
Steve follows Pepper to the kitchen -- to find The Vision carrying a huge pot to the stove and Emeril Lagesse sharpening his knives. Thank. Fucking. Christ.
"Pepper," Emeril kisses her on the cheek. "Looking lovely as ever."
Steve extends his hand. "Thank you, sir --"
Emeril waves him off. "No need. I love it. My pleasure. One thing though, Miss Chase wants to know, why didn’t you just tell her you were proposing to Samuel. She would’ve made the trip. She thought you were getting too hot in the head to come down and see her."
Steve laughs. "I was trying to keep it surprise!”
“Secrets safe with me. At least until you officially announce,” Emeril says. “Then I’m going tell everyone, if that’s all right. Colicchio and Rasmey will be beside themselves.”
"Deal," Steve says.
Pepper shrugs. “Hey, Colicchio didn’t pick up the phone.”
“He’s filming. When do I have to fire off the first course?”
“Two hours.” Steve told Natasha to tell Sam to be here at 8PM.
“Perfect.”
“And I will serve as your sous chef,” The Vision says. “I have proficient knife skills and have consumed all your programming, despite not being able to taste the food.”
Steve leaves them to it.
Ring, check. Permission, check. Dinner, check.
He's doing this. He's ACTUALLY doing this. Breathe in and out, Rogers.
The elevator door opens and out steps Sam. He's dressed to the nines in his black suit (with a white shirt and ALSO sans tie). Steve wonders if he should just drop to his knee right now. Get it over. Pull it off like a band-aid. Marry me and let's go have supper! Is that romantic? He doesn't exactly know how to be romantic. He's flustered enough for Sam to sneak a quick kiss. "Hey."
"Hi."
"Nat said Rhodey was throwing a party."
"Uh, surprise?"
Sam narrows his eyes -- he knows! He knows something's up -- and then laughs. "All right, so it's just us?"
"Just us."
"Then why'd we get all dressed up?" Sam slides his hands down to rest on Steve's hips. He kisses Steve, and his intentions are 100% clear. This isn't some 'I love you' kiss or 'I like lazily kissing you' kiss. This is a 'I'm Gonna Fuck You' kiss.
Steve pulls away. "Dinner's ready." He takes Sam's hand, and kisses it, as he leads Sam to the dining room. If Steve’s ear’s correct, The Vision has selected a classic Soul station from Spotify for background music. The Vision did a wonderful job setting it with flowers and just the right amount of candles. The table’s set for a six-course dinner, and Steve’s gotta confess he has no idea how use the silverware.
“Out to in,” Sam says.
“Didn’t expect it to be this fancy.”
“Uh huh,” Sam says. Steve takes his hand and kisses it, again, just holds it as they sit at the table, staring at each other, into Sam’s bright brown eyes, so full of love and humor and —
"Good evening, gentlemen." Natasha says as enters with two menus and a bottle of very expensive wine.
Steve narrows his eyes. "Pepper sent you away from the evening."
"Pepper knows about this," Sam says.
"Pep is a snake who sent me to select the wine, because she wanted to dress you." Natasha hands them the menu.
"You let Pepper dress you? That explains a lot."
Steve cocks his head. Sam says, "Natasha would've put you in black."
"I am a grown man who can dress myself."
"Anyway," Natasha says as she pops the cork. "Tonight, you've be treated to a six course dinner with a --"
Natasha goes on to explain the New Orleans inspired dinner. Sam's eyes widen as she describe the courses and wine pairings. Is this too much? Did he go over board? Sam doesn't say anything. He shakes his head and grins as she leaves.
Steve takes Sam's hand, giving it another kiss. He doesn't let go as they chat about Sam and Rhodey's trip to Maine (it was surprisingly good), Sam's work with NYC VA Office (it's super stressful, but rewarding), and if Steve should get a dog (obviously).
The gumbo comes out, S am pokes around it like he's supisiocus. When the fondue course comes out, Steve almost tosses it in Natasha’s face. He’s going to get her for this. She’s not as funny as she thinks. When the dessert comes out, Sam finally says, “Now, if I crack this, am I going to have to search for a ring?”
Steve cracks his Souffle and almost gets it on him. "Was it that obvious?”
“Yeah,” Sam laughs. “Kinda.”
Steve hangs his head in his palm. “I’m sorry, I totally mucked this up.”
“No, no, I did. I shouldn’t said anything.”
They proceed to aimlessly quarrel until Steve reaches into his pocket and pulls out that Blue Box. “You’re crazy, Rogers.”
“I have a whole speech — “
“Of course you do”
“But it seems silly now. Sam, I love you and I want to be your husband. Marry me.”
"I don't know," Sam shrugs.
Steve drops his fork. Sam bursts out laughing. "Of course, I'll marry you, you crazy dumbass."
Steve puts the ring on Sam's finger and kisses it. He can't kiss his hand, and then kisses Sam on the lips, and doesn't stop kissing him until suddenly "Let's Get It On" blares.
Sam and Steve pull away to see Natasha with Pepper, Rhodey, The Vision, Scott, and Emeril at the door. They shout "CONGRATULATIONS" and proceed to turn the intimate dinner-for-two into an engagement bash. Neither Sam nor Sam can really complain.
Not even when Tony Stark shows up late fifteen minutes late with a case of champagne. The End.