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“Well, it’ll do,” Tony sighed, shooing the guy who carried their bags up from the room with a wad of bills.
“Tony,” Steve gasped, sounding awed and offended at the same time. “This place is bigger than the apartment I grew up in. This place costs more for a week than that apartment did in a year.”
“Well, you know. Inflation.” Steve glared over at him, and when he saw Tony’s quivering lips, he rolled his eyes, and Tony lost it.
“Make fun of me, will ya? Keep it up, Tony. I swear, I’ll-“
“You’ll what? Make vague threats we both know you won’t carry out?”
“Shaddap.”
“Man, this pad is bangin’,” came a shout from somewhere downstairs.
Tony looked at Steve in exasperated askance, but he just rolled his eyes again. “You know Clint is an ass on purpose, right?”
Tony huffed. “‘Corse I did. How do we get him to shut up?”
Steve snorted. “That’s easy. NATASHA.”
The private villa wasn’t the biggest and/or most expensive that was available, but Tony had figured out, in the seven months that he and Steve had been together that Steve was still twitchy about Tony spending his money on him. It was weird. Steve wasn’t bothered or intimidated by Tony’s wealth, but he didn’t enjoy displays of it either. Aside from his houses, cars, art, and the general expensiveness of everything he owned, he and Steve lived comfortably, but in no way did they over do it. Steve bought the groceries (Tony had figured out very quickly that he shouldn’t protest), and most of their dates were normal type things that could be done for under fifty dollars.
So, no matter how much he would have liked to, there was no jetting off to Paris and renting out the Louvre so Steve could do his art thing, no heading to Rome for after-dinner gelato, no purchasing a new yacht and taking a month-long cruise of the Mediterranean, no buying out an entire resort in Aspen so he could take Steve skiing.
(In some growing, still fragile but hopeful part of his mind he was planning a year-long, no expense spared honeymoon. They hadn’t reached that point yet, but they were living together and Steve was taking him as his plus one to a close friend’s wedding. It meant something.)
So when Tony found Steve on the phone, trawling through hotel prices and weighing the pros and cons of different locations, Tony hadn’t really paid attention. Until Steve said something about splitting two rooms between the six of them. No way in hell was Tony sleeping on a lumpy mattress with Bucky snoring on the next bed over in a crappy motel room on his first sort-of vacation with Steve.
So Tony had put his foot down, called his travel agent, said he needed a decent place for two couples and two single grown men near Magdalena, New Mexico.
The agent had sent him a list of properties available, from decent to extravagant. Tony picked one with space enough that they wouldn’t be tripping over one another, but at a price that wouldn’t give Steve the biggest heart attack.
Magdalena wasn’t even on the list of “Places to Take Steve to Show Him How Much You Love Him”, but it wasn’t just for shits and giggles that they were going. Thor Odinson, forensic specialist in arson and close friend to Crew 91, was getting married to his astrophysicist sweetheart, Jane. (They had met, Tony learned, when a fire had broken out at one of the many research facilities littered around Magdalena. Thor had shown up, said “I specialize in arson – “ and Jane had slapped him before he could even show his badge. And now they were getting married before their baby was due in March.) The two of them were “sickeningly” in love (according to Clint).
Tony thought it was nice to see Steve having some more “settled” friends, as opposed to the eternal frat boys and Russian assassin he usually hung out with. Not that Thor and Jane were anywhere near normal. Two years before, the pair had apparently gotten so drunk they thought they had been transported to Asgard by Idris Elba.
The firefighter subculture attracted some strange characters.
Case in point. After he and Steve had settled into the master suite, they put on their swim trunks and headed down to the pool. Natasha and Bucky looked like frozen statues of sunbathers, save for the alcohol both were holding. Sam had found a pair of water wings and was blatantly disregarding the “Caution: Floor May Be Slippery” signs, running around screaming about how you couldn’t tame a falcon. Clint was perched on the end of the diving board, peering at the water below.
“Just how drunk did you guys get in ten minutes? I’m impressed,” Tony conceded.
Bucky took a sip from his violently pink-and-pineapple concoction. (He was a certified mixologist, his talents abused regularly by everyone. The diploma was hanging on the wall back in Camp Nelson, next to the picture of him being driven around in a wheelbarrow by Steve while wearing a silver foil “Birthday Princess” tiara. Tony didn’t ask.) “I’m only getting as drunk as I can so I don’t end up mooning the bride.”
“She might pop if you do that,” Nat took a pull from the bottle of imported Russian vodka she favored, claiming the rest of them were weak. “Not a bad Valentine’s Day, if I should say.”
“How so?” Steve asked, and Tony’s considerable attention was diverted as he pulled his shirt off. Steve smirked knowingly.
“Mmmm, Clint, if we weren’t here, what would you be doing to impress me today?”
Clint was still staring at water, clutching the diving board like it was a life preserver. “I got us some of those handcuffs they usted to use on the criminally insane.”
“Oh? I spoke too soon.”
“You break anything, it’s on your tab,” Tony said, not blinking as he watched while Steve did some warm-up stretches before he started swimming.
“ON YOUR RIGHT, MOTHERFUCKER!” Sam hollered has he whizzed past.
“Certainly an interesting day,” Natasha observed, downing a quarter of the vodka in one go.
A few hours later, Tony was in his tux, Steve and the guys were going to cause an international incident in their uniforms, and Nat was killing it in a red gown with a slit up to her hip joint. They all piled into the mini-van they had rented, and commenced squabbling over the best route to take.
It was dusk before they arrived at the site of the wedding. It was set up in the middle of the Very Large Array, a couple hundred folding chairs draped in blue, red, and gold in amidst the enormous satellite dishes. Women were stumbling over the rocky ground and tufts of grass in their colored heels; Clint and Sam were hobbling to try and mimic them. Nat just rolled her eyes.
Thor was standing at the end of the aisle, greeting guests with warm, full-bodied hugs. Next to him stood a short man with a bushy white beard and an eye patch, with a tall, regal woman with golden hair on his arm. Presumably his parents. There was also a shifty-looking guy with stringy black hair in a tacky green-and-gold suit and handcuffs, with an Icelandic corrections officer hovering behind him.
Steve and the crew were regarding the guy in green warily.
“The firebug brother?” Tony asked in a low tone.
Steve nodded once.
Bucky snorted. “I’m surprised they let him out for this.”
“I wonder what Thor hasn’t been telling us,” Natasha said thoughtfully. “According to Thor, Loki’s been in prison since they were teenagers. Does a guy who’s been in jail for as long as he has really warrant such a close guard?”
“Well, Thor loves his brother,” Clint supplied, tripping and swearing. “He’d forgive him for anything, no matter what he says. I’m not going to blame him; Thor’s got the biggest heart I know, but I don’t think he’s able to be rational where his brother’s concerned.”
“I need to go to Iceland,” Natasha muttered. “Then I could access his criminal record. Stark, could you hook me up?”
“Guys, let’s not get caught up in this,” Sam ordered with finality. “It’s Thor’s wedding; we’re here for him along with his family. If he’s willing to forgive him, who are we to judge?”
Sam’s mouth was a hard line, and Tony knew it was going to be difficult for all of them to forget it. They’d all seen the destruction fire could cause, dedicated their lives to stopping it. It wouldn’t be easy to sit back and let a known arsonist gallivant around.
“Well, he’s got a pretty tight leash on him,” Steve conceded finally with a grimace. “Let’s just hope Jane doesn’t have a bunch of candles at the reception, and some of us should probably try and stay sober enough that if anything breaks out – “
“Not it!” Clint, Sam, and Natasha shouted at the same time. Bucky swore. Steve just rolled his eyes.
“Come on, let’s go give our congrats to the groom.” He looped his arm more tightly around Tony’s, and Tony allowed himself the pleasure of letting Steve guide him around the worst of the rocks and tiny shrubs.
“Friends!” Thor boomed. Natasha cocked an eyebrow. “Comrades? It is wonderful to see you! I am incredibly thankful for your effort to make your way out here.” His eyes twinkled as he assessed the other guests still stumbling over the terrain. “It gives me so much joy, and means so much to my beloved Jane and myself to be surrounded by our good friends on this occasion.”
“No problem, Thor. We’re very happy to be here,” Steve said as he maintained a vice-like grip on Tony, who was trying very hard to escape.
He had no issue with introducing Steve into his world, but he always somehow felt like he was intruding whenever Steve introduced him into his own.
Tony had very few (read: three) close friends before he met Steve. Everyone else was either employed by him or were mere acquaintances he made out to be best friends in the world with in the media, when in reality he detested them. As huge as the potential was, his life was very cut off from others.
The complete opposite was true in Steve’s case. While he didn’t know as many people, by virtue of his personality and station in life, many more could be considered friends. While Steve and Bucky had been friends since they were runty children, and Clint, Natasha, and Sam had been living in close proximity to him for most of his adult life, Steve still had a bunch of people he considered good friends. Thor and Jane; not Fury, but a bunch of the other guys on Crew 91, like Dum Dum, Morita, Gabe; Peggy, who worked for the National Forest Service and oversaw wildfire operations all over the country; Arnie, who still lived in Brooklyn. All people who Steve was willing to be open and friendly with, whereas Tony was still emotionally stunted with those closest to him.
And for some reason, they had taken Tony into their fold. They treated him like they had know him for years, and while they joked about it constantly, they didn’t really want him to buy them things (well, they did, but it wasn’t so much like using him as it was helping themselves).
He still didn’t know what to make of it, but he loved it nonetheless.
The woman in blue and gold tilted her head and smiled. “Thor, my sweet, are you going to introduce me to your friends?”
“Of course! May I introduce you to my lady mother Frigga, along with my father Odin, and brother Loki? And these are some of the brave fighters of Crew 91 of the Sequoia National Forest. Samuel, Clinton, Natasha, James, Steven. And Steven’s intended, Anthony.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Frigga answered. Odin grunted. Loki rolled his eyes.
Tony, for this part, squeaked. “We’re not – “
Everyone was giving him the Oh, really? look. Except Steve, who was smiling brighter.
He buried he face in Steve’s shoulder, and felt a hand card through his hair.
“He can be shy,” Natasha confided.
“You all came in from Iceland? That’s impressive,” Steve cut in.
“Yes,” Odin grunted. “We would have preferred Thor marry a native woman at home, but he insisted on moving to America –“
“Father, please,” Thor said tiredly.
“Come now, my dear, I am enjoying my stay in the States. It is much warmer here,” Frigga admonished, and Tony could tell who Thor better took after. “And I plan to stay for the next few months, and help my son and new daughter with their child.”
“Mother is quite excited to become a grandmother,” Thor supplied.
“I don’t understand why she couldn’t have the baby in Iceland, but whatever, you’ll leave me to starve,” Odin groused.
“Father, you are welcome to stay – “
“Nahhh,” Odin huffed.
Loki stood quiet. Tony was surprised at how different he looked from his parents and sibling. Loki was thin and dark whereas Thor was golden and broad.
“Sorry, but we gotta move this along,” a snarky voice came from off to the side. I was a short woman with thick curves, curly hair, a red bridesmaid dress, and a clunky black headset.
“Darcy, let us have some time; this is a very special night for us,” Thor responded.
“Yeah, and you put me in charge of keeping everyone on track. You didn’t have to get your pregnant fiancée on the can before she ruined her dress –“
“Thank you, Darcy, we get the picture.”
“Well, you should. That kid’s kickin’ her bladder to high heaven –“
“And this is where we part,” Thor interrupted with a smile. “If I do not get to spend any time with you later, I wish you the best. And thank you, for being here.”
Their little group made their way down the aisle, and found their seats in the third row.
They settled in, as they had gotten there pretty early, and started chatting with the other guests. Clint was getting ready to grab Nat before she could start a wrestling match with Volstagg, one of Thor’s groomsmen, when it was announced that they should take their seats, as the ceremony would begin soon.
Thor escorted his mother down the walk (Odin shuffling close behind), and took his place at the platform that was serving as the alter, Loki and his jingling handcuffs at his elbow.
The music swelled to a crescendo, and Jane appeared and began her march (or waddle) down the aisle. Her dress was simple in design, white gossamer and a sweetheart neckline. But beneath the layers of floaty fabric were tiny electric lights in the shapes of constellations, and her eight month pregnant stomach stood out proudly. Thor was weeping by the time she reached him.
Tony zoned out at the vows (Thor insisted on doing them in Icelandic) and just leaned into Steve’s shoulder and let Steve hold him.
It was nice. Peaceful.
Until Jane’s colleague Erik decided that the exchange of the ring was the moment to take his pants off. (To give Clint credit, it did look like he took his off in solidarity, instead of taking advantage of the opportunity.)
Thor removed Jane’s garter with his teeth, and then grinning, ignored the crowd of guys waiting and launched it directly at Steve’s face.
No way in hell was Natasha going to get Tony to go for the bouquet.
The party was pretty snazzy. They had set up in a hall in one of the housing buildings for the telescopes, and some of Jane’s colleges had done some demonstrations and blasted astral projections across the ceiling. The theme was, thankfully, cosmic, and there wasn’t a candle in sight.
After dinner, Thor’s Icelandic friends decided they needed to show the puny Americans how to drink and party, so Clint and Natasha had gone to put them to shame. Sam just got shitfaced for the sake of it, and whenever he was turned down by anyone, he was good-natured about it. Bucky sat at the bar, downing micro brews and fancy cocktails, and laughing whenever people fell over (which happened a lot).
Thor and Jane were in their own tiny world, slow dancing as their guests rampaged around them.
Steve and Tony stayed for the most part at their table, though Steve did drag him out onto the floor to dance several times, and Tony often found people cutting in to dance with his surefooted boyfriend.
It was after everyone applauded as Steve and Nat finished the paso doble, that Steve approached him with shining eyes.
“Wanna go look at the stars?” He sounded breathless. Tony nodded and allowed himself to be pulled up and out of the room.
They passed the Darcy chick and the groomsman who looked like Robin Hood getting it on in hall. She was using her headset to choke him.
“Should we intervene?”
“Nah, he likes it, see?”
Chucking, Steve pulled him up a maintenance ladder and onto the roof.
The aluminum paneling was oxidizing underneath its paint and the desert air was frigid, but Tony was too enthralled by the expanse of sky above them to pay it any heed.
There were a billion tiny specks of light, but it wasn’t like how stars looked from Malibu or the Sierra Nevadas. There, stars looked like someone had stuck a pin through black paper and shone a light through. Here, the stars appeared to breathe, bleeding and sifting in on one another with the gauzy haze of the Milky Way overlaid across the expanse.
Steve closed the door and sat down on the roof, gesturing for Tony to join him. Tony plopped down, scooting close and laying his head on Steve’s shoulder, relishing the feeling of warmth and solidarity.
“We’re next,” Steve said out of nowhere.
Tony whipped around, but his boyfriend was still calmly gazing at the stars. His blond hair was almost white in the minimal light, and his eyes had darkened to match the sky as they always did, a clear midnight color of the universe fully realized. He was still, and combining the strong cut of his jaw and the uniform’s decorations, he looked like a memorial statue of a general lost in battle.
“We’re next for what?”
“It won’t be here. I’d like it to be in the forest, near the house? Your house. Camp Nelson’s a bit shabby for your usual tastes, but we could have it here if you really wanted. But I’d like that bluff we sometimes go to. Spring, before the fires start getting out of hand. Dawn. I know everyone would be complaining about the timing, but I don’t care. I prefer the symbology of dawn better than sunset. People go on about how beautiful the lighting is, but have they ever seen a spring dawn in the mountains? With those pink and gold streaks? It only lasts for a moment, but what a moment.”
“Steve, what are you on about?”
Steve leaned back against the door, pulling Tony’s left hand up to his mouth, kissing the knuckle on the fourth finger, eyes impossibly bright. “You’re the genius.”
It hit him, like the roll of air expanding from heat.
“Are you proposing?”
“Not officially. Just putting it out there.”
“You’ve been – you’ve been thinking about getting married. To me.”
“Well, who else would I be considering?” Steve cocked an eyebrow. “Fury? Hell, nah.”
“Wha – why?”
“Well, it seems like it’s taking a while to stick, but I love you. And I don’t see that changing anytime soon. And well, I’d kind of like to make it down the aisle with you. I don’t want to be one of those couples who are just together for three decades. It’s – it’s important to me, Tony. That we make that commitment.”
Tony was silent.
“I’m just putting this out there, Tony. You don’t need to take this as a serious proposal –“ Steve stuttered.
“Of course I’m not taking this as a real proposal, Rogers. I deserve better than a dirty rooftop in the middle of the desert. I want a night, no day, no weekend of wooing, romantic backdrop, you on bended knee, ring, the works.”
Steve let out a shaky breath. “Only the best for you.”
“I am the best.”
“Of course,” Steve leaned closer.
“Oh, and one more thing.”
“What?”
“I get to plan the honeymoon.”
Steve threw his head back before pressing his smile to Tony’s. “Deal.”
He was going to marry Steve.
Tony was buoyed by that thought as they carted the inebriated Sam and Clint into the van (Nat had hollow legs, she wasn’t even tipsy and she’d drunk enough to down a bull elephant), managed to get back to the villa, and dumped the drunkards into their beds. He reveled in it as Steve went through his tender way of stretching Tony out, and the gentle lovemaking that followed. He was filled with wonder as he stared at Steve’s sleeping face, the idea that he would wake up to that face for the rest of his life.
He was going to marry Steve.
And for the first time in his life, he wasn’t terrified of the prospect of commitment.
Not that he wasn’t worried about other things. The media. How Steve would continue his career as a firefighter (not that Tony wanted him to quit, but he wouldn’t need to work). Kids, because while Tony might be warm towards the idea of getting married, Steve was the kind of guy that had an army of offspring, and Tony . . . well, they’d need to discuss it.
Even if there was no ring yet, he knew his answer.
He was gonna sound like a crappy romance novel: Yes. Yes. A million times yes!
Maybe he’d just kiss in lieu of a verbal answer.
He was going to marry Steve.
“Tony, why aren’t you packed?” Steve said, throwing his still unpacked suitcase on the bed. “We’re leaving in a couple hours.”
“No, your buddies are leaving in a couple hours. We will be remaining here for the next week.”
Steve’s jaw dropped. “You’re not serious. Tony.”
“Well, we didn’t get a proper Valentine’s Day, and I thought - “
“Tony.” But Steve was laughing lightly.
“Happy Day After Valentine’s Day?”
Steve chuckled and pulled him close. “Happy Day After Valentine’s Day.”
Steve had Tony set up on the edge of the bed, head bowed as he kneeled between Tony’s spread thighs, when Clint barged in saying: “You guys got any regular toothpaste? Nat only uses that sensitive gum shit and Bucky and Sam have already pack – OH GOD MY EYES!”
Clint fled, screaming and clawing at his face.
“Serves him right. He never learned how to knock. Fuckin’ raised by the circus,” Steve muttered.
Tony’s laugh was cut off when Steve went back to deep-throating him.
“WE’RE GOING TO VEGAS WITHOUT YOU NOW!” was shouted from somewhere downstairs, but Tony was beyond caring.
“THEN I’M TAKING STEVE AND GETTING A HIGH ROLLER SUITE AND YOU’RE NOT INVITED.”
“WAIT,” Sam yelled back. “YOU MEAN JUST CLINT, RIGHT? THE REST IF US DIDN’T DO ANYTHING.”
“DUDE. HE’S RICH AND GETTING HIS DICK SUCKED. DON’T PLAY ME LIKE THAT.”
“DUDE. IT’S VEGAS. I’LL SELL YOU AT CIRCUS CIRCUS, I’M NOT EVEN PLAYING.”
“TRATOR.”
“DAMN STRAGIHT. VEGAS.”
“SHUT UP,”Natasha shouted. And they did.