#ywlam

“I like it. I really like it,” Tony said, whistling and taking a step back so as to properly admire the suited-up--make that, well-suited-up and tailor-made--Steve standing before him. Steve looked good in whatever he was wearing (or what he wasn’t wearing); Tony had learned that early on in their relationship when he'd stumbled in on Steve in a paint splattered t-shirt and ripped jeans, but with a suit made to fit every angle of his body--angles that would make super models and triangles jealous--Tony couldn't help but stare. "We're going to weddings more often,” he said. “Screw it, everyone we know has to get married right now."

Tony had just handed the keys off to a valet--Happy had offered to drive them that night, but as always, Tony had declined and taken a few minutes to wonder why he’d ever thought hiring a driver was necessary (and to thank his lucky stars that Happy had taken a liking to security because Tony would never have had the heart to let him go)--when they’d stopped in front of the block-sized church where inside, one of Tony’s old employees was about to be married. Despite popular belief, neither Tony or Steve were all that great at social events, but Tony, for what it was worth, had years of practice under his belt. He might not like schmoozing, but he was damned good at it--years in the spotlight had told him what to say, when to say it, and when to smile--but Steve had years of being Captain America, face of the war, Buy Bonds Boy. Just maybe not in a three piece suit.