Chapter Text
Tony sighed in despair and went back to picking lint off of the suit Pepper had sent him. She wanted him to wear it to the wedding, and it was, perhaps, the single most hideous suit he had ever seen; sea-foam green was the ugliest fucking colour. Happy would definitely not be outshined today. He wondered if anyone else at the wedding would be wearing suits that looked like they had been stolen from an eighties under-the-sea prom.
Steve yawned, and tried belatedly to stifle it with his arm. He was lying in their bed, curled up in a ball under the blankets. Tony had only gotten up because he had heard the alarm go off for the fifteenth time that morning; he hadn’t wanted to leave a warm bed and an even warmer, more delectable Steve, but that was the cost of getting ready for a wedding. Things like that took time, and he had, this time, understood just how much time was needed to get ready to leave. Steve, on the other hand, had refused to get up and vacate the warm blankets. Tony hadn’t blamed him, but he knew better than to let Steve continue to procrastinate.
“Are you going to get up now sweetheart?” Tony asked, cracking a smile. He looked Steve over, pleased with what he saw. Steve looked delightfully rumpled today. His bangs were squashed flat against his head and the hair on the side of his head was sticking up like a golden wave.
Steve squinted at Tony and burrowed deeper under the blankets as though they might protect him from the morning. “Are you sure you don’t want to just come back to bed?” he asked, his voice muffled by the plush bedding.
“I would love to come back to bed,” Tony drawled, setting his hideous suit back down on the chair it had been left on the night before, “but I think if I did crawl back in there, Pepper would appear out of nowhere and kill me.”
“I don’t want to go,” Steve grumbled.
Tony sat down on the edge of the bed, smiling softly. He knew how anxious Steve was at the mere notion of being out at the wedding – that had been their main discussion of the evening. “Are you still worried that you’ll look like a stick of celery?” he asked.
Steve let out a snort. “You think I won’t?”
“You’ll look fine, Steve,” Tony said, patting the lump under the blankets. “It sucks, but we’re going to have to suck it up for Pepper’s sake. Come on. We’ve got to get ready to go. We have to shower and then go get breakfast. It’s going to be a long day.”
“I don’t want to go,” Steve grumbled again. He rolled over and emerged from under the blankets slowly, blinking back sleep. He was naked, and he didn’t appear to want to look at himself too closely; he wrapped a sheet around his middle and tactfully folded the fabric over his groin.
“I know you don’t want to go and I’m sorry, honey, I wish we didn’t have to head out,” Tony said, softly. He ran his fingers through Steve’s unruly hair. “But Pepper would be really sad if you didn’t show up. You know she loves seeing you around and it’s her special day.”
Steve hung his head and scowled.
“I know, I know,” Tony said. “I’m guilt-tripping you. How about some bribery instead then?” He cupped Steve’s chin in his hands and kissed him soundly.
Steve’s hands came up, his fingers curling in Tony’s hair. He kissed Tony back, sinking into the embrace s though he needed it to breathe; he dropped the sheet and let it pool around his legs, seemingly forgetting about it.
Tony pulled away first. He ran his thumb over Steve’s shiny, pink, lower lip and grinned. “When we get back, we can have a honeymoon of our own,” he promised, his voice breathless. Despite having been back at the tower for a few days now, they hadn’t been able to find time to be alone. Bucky and the other Avengers had been in and out of the penthouse almost non-stop, and what little time they didn’t occupy, Pepper and Happy had taken up. Tony had known better than to complain about the lack of privacy. The wedding was far more important than sex – even if he really, really wanted it.
Steve let out an irritated groan and rolled backwards onto the bed, curling in the sheet. “You suck.”
“Not until later,” Tony said, standing up. He hoisted Steve up, gently pulling the sheet out from under him and headed towards the bathroom with his boyfriend slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
Steve kicked his legs out, thumping Tony softly in the back with his fists. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he laughed. “Jerk!”
“Aww, don’t be that way sugarplum,” Tony purred, patting Steve’s bare ass. “I know you love me.”
Steve let out a soft sound. “Hey,” he said, clearing his throat.
“Oh, did I do something you like?” Tony asked, smirking. He gave Steve’s ass another gentle pat, and then thought, what the hell and cupped Steve’s left buttcheek in his hand, giving it a firm squeeze.
Steve let out a throaty growl and pressed his groin harder against Tony’s back, letting Tony feel just how much the touch had done to him.
“Shower time,” Tony sang out, his voice cracking. He closed the bathroom door with his foot and carried Steve over to the fluffy bath mat before setting him down.
Steve was on Tony in an instant. He tugged at Tony’s sleep pants, working them down to Tony’s knees with a single yank. “You’d better be showering too,” he grumbled, his fingers tangling in the elastic waistband of Tony’s briefs.
Tony grinned and pulled his shirt up over his head and wrinkled his nose. “Of course I am,” he said. “I can’t go around smelling like you all day – as delightful as that is, I’m pretty sure Rhodey would notice and drown me in a punch bowl.”
Steve chuckled and tugged Tony’s briefs down. He let his fingers linger on Tony’s hips, trailing his way down Tony’s upper thigh. He took a moment to dig his nails in, leaving pink patches in his wake and smirked up at Tony.
Tony shivered and spread his legs a little, offering Steve something else he could manhandle.
Steve didn’t take the bait. He stepped away and into the shower, flashing Tony a smile over his shoulder.
Tony scowled. “And you say I’m the jerk,” he muttered.
Jarvis turned the shower on to a light mist without prompting. Steve stepped under the showerhead; the look on his face told Tony just how much he was enjoying the hot water. He looked like he was about to melt into a puddle.
Tony stepped into the shower, clearing his throat. He eased himself up behind Steve, blinking slowly in the warm mist. “Alright, alright. I’m sorry. No more picking up Steve without permission – I got it this time I swear,” he said.
Steve leaned back as Tony wrapped his arms around him from behind, resting his hands on top Tony’s. He rubbed the pads of his fingers over Tony’s callouses, humming softly. “Fine,” he said with a weary sigh. “I suppose I’ve been convinced to go with you.”
“Good,” Tony chuckled. He pressed a kiss to the top of Steve’s head.
“I mean,” Steve drawled, turning in Tony’s grasp until they were groin to groin. “I might need a little bit more convincing.” He rolled his hips forwards, pressing himself against Tony with a soft sigh. “I don’t mind when you manhandle me, you know that. It’s kind of hot that you’d want to.”
Tony slid his hands down Steve’s wet body, letting his hands linger on Steve’s lower thighs. “Who wouldn’t want to manhandle you?” he said, his voice husky. “You’re perfect.” He cleared his throat and batted his eyelashes at Steve, leaning in a little so he could whisper in Steve’s ear. “You know, we’re in the shower – we wouldn’t even have to clean up if you wanted a preview of what’s to come.”
Steve grinned. “I think I could work with that,” he said. He leaned up; Tony leaned down.
They were about to kiss when the water abruptly turned icy cold.
Yelping, they broke apart, pressing themselves against the shower stall walls.
“What the hell, Jarvis!” Tony growled.
“My apologies, sir,” Jarvis said, not sounding the least bit sorry. “But you instructed me to keep the, and I quote, ‘fooling around’ to a minimum this morning.”
Tony groaned. He wiped the misted water from his face. “Alright, alright. Bring the heat back. We’ll behave,” he said, sourly.
They stepped back under the showerhead once the water was hot again and stood pressed together; Tony wrapped his arms around Steve, rubbing gentle circles on Steve’s lower back. “Sorry, honey,” he mumbled.
“It’s ok,” Steve said. He rested his face against Tony’s chest for a moment before turning around again in Tony’s grasp, reaching for the bodywash. He held the bottle up. “We can’t fool around, but we can still do some things,” he said, waggling his eyebrows.
Tony smirked. “I like how you think,” he said.
“Sir,” Jarvis said.
Tony scowled. “What is it now?”
Steve opened up the bodywash and started lathering it all over Tony’s chest.
“Might I remind you that there is a hands above waist policy in place as well?” Jarvis said.
Tony groaned louder. He leaned forwards, smearing his foam covered body against Steve, who let out a shrill laugh and slapped at him with foam-covered hands, spraying them both with bubbles.
“I get it Jarvis. Right, hands above the waist. I remember,” Tony said. “No need to bring back the cold water. We’ll behave, I promise. Christ, I feel like a cat that’s tried to claw the couch.”
“When did you put that all of these rules into effect?” Steve asked, smearing bodywash on Tony’s arms.
Tony poured a handful of bodywash onto his palms and lathered them up. He tackled Steve’s shoulders first, tracing his way along Steve’s sharp shoulder blades. Steve shivered under his touch and paused, his palms pressed flat against Tony’s hipbones, hovering just above waistline.
“I didn’t order it,” Tony grumbled, planting a wet kiss onto Steve’s hair. “I joked about it and Natasha ordered it.”
“I see,” Steve said. He rubbed lazy circles on Tony’s lower back. “So that’s who I have to kill.”
Tony let out a snort. “Yeah,” he said, smearing foam down to Steve’s navel. “Somehow I think she’ll win if you try it.”
“You don’t know that,” Steve said. He took Tony’s left bicep in his hands and slathered it with foam. He flashed Tony a smarmy grin. “She says my puppy-dog eyes are evil.”
“That’s because they are,” Tony chuckled. He sighed, trying not to stare intently at Steve’s lower body. He knew there would be time to move their relationship further; it wasn’t like they were going to have to wait until the end of time itself. They weren’t planning on sticking around after the wedding was over. There were plans already in place. They had their bags already packed; the Beach House was calling them back, and this time, Tony intended to leave before Bucky could make plans to come with them. Yes, Pepper and Happy would be there on the beach too, but they’d be their private Beach House and considering it was their Honeymoon, Tony didn’t expect to see much of them. He sighed to himself, absently stroking Steve’s back while Steve hung off of his other bicep. Bucky wasn’t causing problems intentionally – or at least Tony didn’t think he was – but he was still getting in the way regardless. If it continued, they were going to have another talk, no matter how unpleasant that might be. That, or he was going to have to kidnap Steve and take him somewhere Bucky didn’t know about. That option was looking far more promising.
“Tony?” Steve murmured. He went up on the tips of his toes, and buried his nose in Tony’s throat. “We can still fool around a little bit, right?”
Jarvis turned the cold water on.
Tony let out a squeal and spun around, protecting Steve from the cold mist.
Steve shivered against him. “Never mind! Never mind! Oh god, make it stop!”
“Alright, alright! We get the point! I’ll get out of the shower in a second,” Tony yelped as the water temperature returned to normal.
“That would be much appreciated, sir,” Jarvis said. “Mrs. Potts has informed me that you are both to use shampoo and conditioner. She has told me to remind you that you are to look good in her wedding pictures, or there will be hell to pay.”
“Great,” Tony muttered. He let the hot water dribble down his back for a moment before letting Steve go in order to scoop up the bottle of shampoo. “Tell Pepper she’s mean,” he said, squirting a handful of shampoo into his palm. He rubbed it into Steve’s hair and then squirted out another handful and tackled his own hair.
“Mrs. Potts has informed me that she already knows,” Jarvis said.
Tony stepped out of the shower, leaving Steve to behind to finish washing up. Steve made to move and follow him, but he gently nudged Steve back under the warm water. He didn’t want to find out what Jarvis would do if they couldn’t keep their hands to themselves when outside the shower; he suspected that the air conditioning would turn on and they would be frozen yet again. His dick had been cold enough this morning – he had no intention of repeating that mistake.
With his towel wrapped around his waist, Tony sauntered back to his bedroom, planning on setting out Steve’s suit so they could get dressed together. Unfortunately, he now had company. Bucky was sitting on the edge of the bed, still wearing his Iron Man pajamas, his hair tangled and greasy from sleep; the skin around his eyes was purplish, and he looked paler than usual. Tony hoped that he wasn’t sick, because the last thing Pepper’s wedding needed was everyone to start puking and fainting from the flu.
“I didn’t think you guys would be up this early,” Bucky said with a yawn.
Tony held in a sigh. “Yeah, we promised Pepper we’d be up and ready to go by noon. The ceremony’s at two,” he said, heading over to his dresser to fish out a clean pair of briefs. He hesitated fleetingly and then let the towel drop, pulling his underwear on one leg at a time. It wasn’t like Bucky hadn’t seen him naked before, after all, and despite the fact that Bucky liked him, he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to find Bucky drooling when he turned around.
Bucky averted his eyes and flopped backwards onto the bed, curling in the blankets in a way that reminded Tony of Steve. He couldn’t help smiling at the sight.
“You having trouble sleeping again?” Tony asked, grabbing a pair of pristine white socks. He sat down on the edge of the bed beside Bucky and tugged them on, mindful fabric. He didn’t think Pepper would be spot-checking socks, but he didn’t want to risk it.
“Something like that,” Bucky muttered. He rubbed at his sweaty forehead. “Do I really have to go to this wedding thing? I don’t even know Pepper all that well.”
“If you don’t go, I’m pretty sure you’re going to get to know her fist pretty well,” Tony chuckled. He patted Bucky’s calf. “Go shower and get dressed before Natasha comes in here and yells at you. She’s taking being the Maid of Honor very seriously.”
“I’m not going,” Bucky muttered darkly.
“Don’t make me drag you into the shower,” Tony grumbled. “Seriously – why am I the only one responsible today? I feel like I’m sharing Pepper’s brain and I don’t like it. It’s too mature – too well organized.”
“You’d be willing to drag me into the shower?” Bucky asked, grinning broadly. He rolled over and stared at Tony with heavy lidded eyes. “Really?”
“I will strip you and scrub you down myself if I have to,” Tony growled. He squinted down at Bucky. “I swear to god I’ll do it.”
“Oh?” Bucky laughed.
“Believe me – it’s not going to be fun for anyone involved,” Tony said.
“Hm, well now I’m sort of wanting to see what you’ll do if I don’t get up,” Bucky hummed softly.
Steve cleared his throat from the doorway. His towel was wrapped multiple times around his waist, and while he was smiling, it looked strained. “If you want to shower, you’d better have one pretty soon,” he said, walking over to the dresser where his underwear was stored in neatly folded squares. He pulled the drawer open, accidentally dropping the towel and flashed both Tony and Bucky his bare ass.
Tony wolf-whistled.
Bucky grumbled and rolled over again, facing the wall. “I think I’m good. I’m not going anyway.”
“You have to go,” Steve said, fighting with the towel. He gave up on it when it refused to stay in place and struggled his way into his briefs. “Come on, Bucky. It’ll be fun.”
Bucky let out a long, weary sigh. “We both know that’s a lie but fine,” he said, sitting up with a huff. “But I’m using your shower.”
Steve rolled his eyes. “Fine, but do me a favor, alright? Stop tormenting Tony for the rest of today, will you? He’s got enough to worry about without you making goo-goo eyes at him every ten minutes because you think it’ll be funny to watch him snap.”
Bucky scowled sourly. “You’re taking all the fun out of this,” he said.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Steve chuckled. “You two can go back to bugging each other later – when Pepper isn’t threatening to kill us all.”
“Spoilsport,” Bucky grumbled.
Tony sighed and put his face in his hands.
Steve rested a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Hey,” he said, pressing a kiss to Tony’s forehead. “Let’s get dressed.”
“I want to rip out my hair,” Tony grumbled. “Why is he in our shower?”
“He just wants to tease you,” Steve said, stroking the side of Tony’s face. “I’ll make it up to you, alright? We’ve got plenty of time alone after today. I promise. I’ll make it up to you.”
“You’d better,” Tony groused.
“Get dressed,” Steve said. “I’ll meet you out there.”
Grumbling the entire time, Tony complied.
Tony found Natasha sitting at the breakfast bar, already dressed in her pastel blue bridesmaid dress. She had half a sheet thrown over her chest and was using it to keep from getting coffee and oatmeal all over her dress. When she saw Tony, she pulled a pile of sheets out from under the breakfast bar and handed him one.
“Thanks,” Tony said, donning his impromptu bib. He managed to poke himself in the eye only once and would have cheered about it if he hadn’t been so damn drained of energy.
“That’s one ugly fucking suit,” Natasha said, looking Tony over.
“That’s one ugly fucking dress,” Tony grunted in return.
Natasha smiled. “It could be worse,” she said. She looked down at her oatmeal and let out a tired hiss of displeasure. “This is going to be a long day.”
“You didn’t want to get up today either, huh?” Tony said. He stalked over to the counter with the sheet hanging majestically over his shoulder and pulled a box of cereal towards him. He debated on having sugary frosted flakes for a few moments before reaching for the plain cheerios. Better to be awake than to fall asleep during the wedding because of a sugar low.
“I didn’t but it was inevitable. You’re going to want something more filling than that,” Natasha advised when she caught sight of the cheerios. She stared down at her oatmeal and took another bite with a look of grim determination on her face. If Tony hadn’t known better, he might have thought she was eating broken glass.
“I was wondering why you were eating that,” Tony said, pushing the cereal box away. “You hate oatmeal.”
“I hate a lot of things,” Natasha grumbled. “Speaking of things I hate – do me a favor.” She lifted her leg up, flashing Tony far more of her than he was used to seeing. “Fix the dress lining, will you? It keeps riding up, and I don’t have the patience to fix it myself.”
“Why the hell do I have to do this,” Tony said. He tossed his bib-sheet onto the back of his chair and knelt down beside Natasha’s chair, wondering how likely it was he would survive the favor. “How is this my job again?” he asked.
“It’s your job because you’re the backup Maid of Honor,” Natasha said. She lifted her leg higher, revealing the crotch of her pale, pink, panties. “If you look or touch anything that isn’t my dress, I’m going break all of your fingers after the wedding.”
“Gee,” Tony muttered, leaning forwards, “You’re making this so much easier.”
Natasha snorted and let go of her dress; it dropped down on top of Tony’s head, engulfing him in taffeta and muslin.
“How is this helpful?” Tony asked, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the new light.
“My ass was cold,” Natasha said. “It’s helpful to me.”
“Right,” Tony sighed.
“I felt that,” Natasha growled dangerously.
“I didn’t even do anything!” Tony said.
“You breathed,” Natasha said.
“I kind of have to breathe,” Tony sighed again.
“Well, stop it,” Natasha said.
“I’ll try,” Tony said. He shifted his head, lifting the taffeta up so he could see the innards of the dress. There, curled and twisted, was a hemline that just wouldn’t sit flat. He wiggled his fingers and got to work, easing the fabric to the left. When it didn’t untangle immediately, he began to fight with it as gently as possible.
Someone cleared their throat loudly from outside of Tony’s dress-bubble.
Tony sighed louder. Now who the hell was it? Was someone going to ask him to iron their pants too?
Natasha swatted Tony’s shoulder, finding it easily even though it was hidden by the bulk of her dress. “I said, stop doing that,” she grumbled.
“And I said it’s impossible to stop breathing,” Tony said.
“Fine. Stop sighing then,” Natasha said. “Good morning, Steve. You look nice.”
Tony straightened his back a little but continued to work. He knew he probably looked utterly ridiculous with the lower half of Natasha’s dress wrapped around his head, but there was work to be done.
“Hey, honey,” Tony said. He wiggled the fabric again, trying to get it to lie flat.
“I see you’re keeping busy,” Steve said. He sounded amused. He patted Tony’s head through the fabric of Natasha’s dress, his aim just as precise as Natasha’s had been. “What’s for breakfast?” he asked.
“There’s oatmeal in the pot on the stove,” Natasha said. “It’s unsweetened, so you’ll have to add your own flavorings. Bruce made enough for everyone. He said he wanted – why did Barnes just stroll naked out of your bedroom, Stark?”
Tony jerked upright and banged his head on the underside of the table; Natasha’s oatmeal bowl bounced.
“What?” Tony squawked.
Natasha put her hand on Tony’s head. “Be careful,” she said. “I can’t get blood on this dress until after the wedding is over.”
“Well that’s not frightening at all,” Steve said. He put a hand on Tony’s back. “Are you alright down there, Tony?”
“Why is Bucky still naked?” Tony said, rubbing at his head.
“I have no idea,” Steve said. “He’s gone now, though. He just made a break for the elevator.”
“I think we need to implement a rule in my penthouse,” Tony muttered, finally fixing the twisted seam. He lifted Natasha’s dress up off of his head, triumphant and furious. “No nudists in my penthouse unless it’s me or they were invited.”
Natasha snorted and went back to her oatmeal.
Tony scowled. “I mean it this time. I better not catch anyone else naked up here,” he warned. “There will be hell to pay.”
“I’m assuming you mean, everyone aside from Steve, of course?” Natasha said.
“Obviously,” Tony said. “He can be naked up here whenever he wants.”
“Right. I can see that happening,” Natasha said with a chuckle.
Tony stood up, dusting off his knees, and tried not to scowl. There would probably be someone else naked up here within the day at this rate – and it wouldn’t be him, or Steve with his luck. He steered Steve away from Natasha, glaring at her over his shoulder and looked him over, taking in the sight. True to his word, Steve had put on the sea-foam green suit despite his hatred of it. It fit Steve like a glove, accentuating the cut of his hips and shoulders in a way that made Tony want to peel the damn thing off of him right then and there.
Steve shuffled nervously under Tony’s gaze, glancing around as though unsure where he should be looking.
“You look gorgeous,” Tony said, reverently. He smoothed a crease on Steve’s shoulder and kept his hand there, enjoying the Steve’s warmth under his fingers. “Look at you.” He whistled. “Very nice.”
“I look like a stick of celery,” Steve muttered, sullenly. He stuffed his hands into his pockets.
“Aren’t you supposed to be an artist?” Natasha said through a mouthful of oatmeal.
Steve frowned. “You know I am,” he said. “What are you getting at?”
Natasha gestured with her spoon at Steve’s suit, mindful of the glob of oatmeal still on the end of it. “Isn’t celery a colour on its own?”
Steve sighed. “I guess you’re right.” He turned to Tony. “I look like a stick of seaweed,” he said. He swiveled on heels and turned to scowl at Natasha, looking more like Captain America than he had in over a month. “Happy?” Steve said.
“No. I’m not. You don’t look anything like seaweed,” Natasha said, setting down her bowl of oatmeal. “Seaweed is a darker green. Well, most seaweed is.”
Tony smiled and shook his head. “You do not look like seaweed, or celery or whatever else out there that’s green, Steve. You look great,” he said. He wrapped his arms around Steve’s middle, drumming his fingers on Steve’s black leather belt. “I’m glad you decided to come with me – and hey, just think, we match!”
“I still think I look ridiculous,” Steve muttered. He wrapped his arms around Tony’s waist and rested his cheek against Tony’s shoulder.
“You’ll be the only two who match, actually,” Natasha said, standing up. She stretched like a cat, detangling herself from her sheet-bib with ease. She folded it up and set it on the back of the chair before bending down and picking up a large black box – one Tony recognized; it was a make-up box, one that Pepper always sure was on hand when they were heading out to press conferences. He had wondered where it had wandered off too.
“What’s Pepper planning?” Tony asked, cocking an eyebrow. Pepper had shown him the seating arrangements and he had snuck looks at her wedding playbook the night before, using Jarvis’ keen eyes, but there hadn’t been anything on her private server about matching tuxedos.
“I don’t want to spoil anything big, but the rest of the suits and bridesmaid dresses look like coral from the Great Barrier Reef,” Natasha said. She snapped her fingers. “No more talking. Eat. I’ve still got to do your make-up. I want to get this done before Pepper starts phoning and asking where the hell we are.”
“Roger that,” Steve said, giving Natasha a choppy salute.
Natasha rolled her eyes and pulled open the make-up box, sorting through the tools she would need.
Steve pulled away from Tony, giving him a soft smile, and headed over to the pot of oatmeal. “Get me the applesauce, will you?” he said over his shoulder.
Tony shuffled closer to the cabinets again. “What’s with you and applesauce? Should I be worried?”
“You afraid I’m going to run off with it into the sunset?” Steve asked. He plucked two bowls from the drying rack and scooped out equal portions of oatmeal for them both; he was a little heavy handed for Tony’s taste, but at least there was now food in reach.
Tony found the applesauce and handed it off to Steve, leaning back against the counter with a weary smile. “You joke now, but I know you, Steve Rogers. You and your goddamned apples.”
Steve grinned and handed Tony a bowl of oatmeal.
Natasha eyed Steve and nodded. “Good,” she said.
Steve shifted nervously in his chair. “You’re sure?”
“Yes,” Natasha said.
“You’re absolutely sure?” Steve asked.
“Yes,” Natasha said. She picked up the pair of tweezers again and began plucking at Steve’s eyebrows with precise strikes.
Steve stared at her with hurt, sad, watery eyes. “You said you were done!”
“I said it was good,” Natasha said, tweasing away at Steve’s eyebrows, frowning the entire time as though every hair had done something to personally offend her. “I didn’t say I was done.”
“But you finished Tony’s makeup in ten minutes!” Steve growled, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Tony is prepped and read to go at a moment’s notice,” Natasha drawled.
Tony grinned lewdly behind Natasha and waggled his perfectly shaped eyebrows. “She’s absolutely right.” It was true; he had been plucked, primped, prodded and painted for practically every damn event he had ever gone though in his life. He could have walked through a tornado and needed only a hairbrush and some concealer to get through a press conference.
Steve’s face went bright red. “Tony,” he hissed.
Natasha took the opportunity to twease another stray hair. She set the tweezers down with a stiff nod.
Steve rubbed at his eyebrows.
“Alright. We’ll get you primed up and pretty and then we’ll get the hell out of here,” Natasha said. She picked up the makeup brush she had set out and poured a blob of primer onto the side of her hand; she daubed at it, still frowning at Steve’s face and got to work.
Steve scowled at Tony over Natasha’s shoulder.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Tony chuckled. He resisted the urge to run his fingers through his hair, knowing that if he messed it up before the wedding was over, he would find himself bald and duct-taped to a palm tree somewhere. “You’re the one who decided you could teach yourself how to put it all on.”
“Look up,” Natasha said, tilting Steve’s chin so she could work on a patch of his cheek that had refused to tint properly.
“We’re still on time, right Jarvis?” Tony said. He pulled his phone from his pocket, checking for the ninth time that hour alone to make sure the battery was fully charged. He intended to get some pictures of Pepper and Happy no matter what, and while he knew there would be wedding photographers strutting around, waiting to get paid, he wanted backups. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust them; it was that he didn’t trust them not to lose things. He tucked his phone away in time to catch sight of Bucky trying to sneak onto the elevator.
“Get over here,” Tony grunted, glaring at Bucky. The bastard looked damn fine in tuxedo and by the looks of it, he had actually deigned to wash himself properly today; there was nary a greasy strand of hair in sight.
Bucky stalked over, shoulder hunched, and hovered beside Tony. He frowned when he noticed what Natasha was doing.
“Relax, hotstuff,” Tony said, “He’s getting a makeover before the wedding. The pictures need to be flawless.”
“Right,” Bucky snorted. “Smooth move, Stark.”
“Steve’s already flawless,” Tony said, rolling his eyes. “Nat’s just making sure we all look flawless like him.”
“Liar,” Steve said, smiling softly. “I just wish it didn’t make my eyes water so much.”
“It was just a little eyebrow hair,” Natasha grumbled. “Let it go already.”
“I did,” Steve insisted, patiently turning his head as Natasha steered his cheek to the left. “I let them go. They’re in the garbage where you left them.”
“Very funny,” Natasha sighed. She pulled out a new brush and set the foundation with powder before letting him leave. Bucky made to move and found himself pulled into Steve’s vacated seat.
“Hey,” Bucky protested.
“Say goodbye to your eyebrows,” Steve stage whispered.
Bucky’s eyes widened.
Tony chuckled. “You’re so mean,” he said, pressing a fond kiss to Steve’s hair. He didn’t dare kissing him on the cheek so soon after the foundation had been put on. Smudges would mean another few minutes with the make-up brush.
Natasha picked up the tweezers; they glinted in the light.
Bucky cringed. “Hey – leave my eyebrows alone!”
“I’m not going to take all of them,” Natasha said, her voice steady and calm. “I’m only going to take the unruly ones.”
“You’ll be fine, Bucky,” Steve said, leaning against Tony. “It didn’t hurt all that much.”
Bucky yelped as Natasha got to work. “You people are horrible!”
“Give me fifteen minutes and we can leave,” Natasha said, clamping her hands down on the sides of Bucky’s head as he tried to squirm for freedom.
“You guys suck,” Bucky hissed.
They stepped out of the elevator and out into the parking lot. Tony checked his watch; they were still on time, but there was no sense in dawdling. He had a briefcase suit at the ready and was carrying it in his left hand, holding Steve’s hand in his right. No matter what happened today, they would be prepared. No one was going to ruin Pepper’s wedding. Not with him around.
“There you are,” Happy said. He was leaning against the black limo Tony had bought for the wedding, tapping his foot impatiently.
Tony’s jaw dropped. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
Happy bristled. “I’m waiting for your sorry asses,” he snapped.
“You’re supposed to be at the wedding already!” Tony hissed. He pinched the bridge of his nose. Pepper was going to kill him for real; it didn’t matter if they showed up on time now, there was no way he was getting out of this without getting booted in the ass. The press was going to destroy him. He could already see the headlines: Tony Stark Makes Personal Driver Drive Him to Driver’s Wedding.
Happy blinked slowly. “What are you talking about, boss?”
“Happy,” Steve said, steering a frozen Tony over to the car. “You’re not supposed to be driving us to your wedding – it’s your wedding!”
Happy paled. “Oh,” he said, fumbling for his keys as they slipped from his grasp. “When Pep said I wasn’t allowed to see her before the wedding, I figured I’d just wait for you guys – I didn’t think about that.”
“Fantastic,” Tony rasped. He allowed himself to be manhandled into the limo by both Bucky and Steve and sat panicking in the back seat, trying to find his phone. He patted his pockets, sweat dripping down the side of his face.
Natasha slipped into the car, taking a seat across from Steve, and handed Tony a Kleenex. “Relax,” she said. “Clint can drive.”
“Clint isn’t here,” Tony said through gritted teeth. Clint had gone on ahead after escaping the eyebrow plucking that morning. He was probably halfway across the city by now, with Coulson by his side. Calling Bruce would be out of the question – the Hulk and driving in the city did not mix – and Rhodey was already at the wedding hall. There was no one left – unless they wanted to call Thor and have him fly the limo over. It was tempting, but he could already see the crease in between Steve’s eyebrows that meant he was making a bad decision; he decided to let that plan go.
“Clint’s willing to come back,” Natasha said. Her voice had taken on a soothing quality to it somehow. “I just sent him a text. He can be here in ten minutes.”
“We can’t wait. We’ll be late if we wait for him – the traffic is nuts in the morning, you know it is,” Tony insisted. He leaned forwards and snapped his fingers. The solution was simple – how could he have missed it? “I’ll drive.”
“You can’t,” Steve said, gently easing Tony backwards into his seat. “You need a special licence, remember? Do you really want to risk getting yourself arrested on the way to Pepper’s wedding? I think that’ll screw things up even more.”
Tony sighed. He looked over to Bucky.
“Don’t look at me, pal,” Bucky said, sighing and swearing under his breath. “I don’t have a licence to drive regular car – let alone this monstrosity.”
“It’s fine,” Happy said, pulling open the driver side door. He looked far calmer than he had a few moments beforehand; his chauffeur skills were taking over – this, he knew how to do. He sat down in the driver’s seat. “I’ll get us there in one piece. We’ll be fine. I’ll just sneak out through the back doors when we get there and no one will know I was driving.”
Tony pulled his phone out. He dialed Pepper’s number and cursed when she didn’t pick up; the call went straight to voicemail. “Damn it!” he said. He sent her a text telling her Happy was with him and hoped that it would be seen.
This was going to be a disaster; he could just feel it.