Chapter Text
The weeks leading up to the wedding were...intense.
It felt like Jan was taking his measurements nearly every day, more and more people he grew up with were giving comments as the tabloids got more and more hungry for pre-wedding content, and Steve honestly was starting to give himself a headache trying to keep track of who was saying what.
The guest list was starting to look actually insane, and Steve was trying to be very cool about the fact that both Sir Ian McKellan and Sir Patrick Stewart had both RSVP’d.
There had been one particularly frustrating occasion when a photographer had snuck into Maximoff’s Munchkins to sneak pictures of Steve working with the kids, which had been maddening, but actually had bought them a lot of sympathy according to Darcy. Apparently, pictures of him at the beach were fine, but when he was trying to do charity work, that was inexcusable.
The nerves kept his stomach in a tangle, which kept his hunger at bay, and he found himself working through meals more often than not. It was a bad habit he’d had since he was a teen, and he really did have to keep an eye on it.
(Even if he wasn’t, Jarvis certainly was, if the pointed trays of food at his elbow were anything to go by.)
He was excited though.
The bad stuff was just background noise because each day he woke up to see Tony’s face and knew that soon, they’d be married, and Tony would be all his for good.
And even if the preparations were stressful, his mother was delighting in being the mother of the groom - well, one of them - and between engagements he spent afternoons going over the details with her and the Royal planner. He was enjoying watching her get to be pampered and not have to consider the cost of every little thing for once.
But it did seem to be taking a toll on Tony.
He was busier than normal, which wasn’t strange, but he seemed to spend a lot of time just looking at Steve, and sometimes when Steve caught his eye, he saw a flash of something almost forlorn. He’d catch him staring into the middle-distance, unfocused, or flinching whenever a phone beeped.
Steve put it down to the stress of the preparations, and the emotions they had to be bringing up for him. Tony may not have always seen eye to eye with King Howard, but it had to hurt that he wasn’t here to attend the wedding.
It was a big day, and as Howard’s only son, he and Tony had talked about what the day would be and what it would mean.
One afternoon he sat deciding between two boutonnières for the big day when a notification popped up on his phone. Everyone told him not to check them, but he couldn’t help it. Knowledge was power, and it stopped him being taken by surprise by reporters on the street.
“Ugh,” Steve groaned as he opened the news app. “Someone leaked one of my college art projects!” He opened the link and hissed. “Of course it had to be the nude pieces. Racy Royal Realism, clever but not accurate. I really hope none of the models get recognised.” He huffed. “Honestly, why -”
There was a clatter, and Steve looked up to see Tony had dropped his teacup onto the tray at his desk, his hands curled in his lap.
“Tony? Are you ok?”
“Fine.” The answer was clipped, quick, and the sound of it made alarm bells in Steve’s head ring.
He got up and walked over, placing a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “What’s the matter? The Prime Minister send through bad news or something?”
Tony shook his head. “It’s nothing, I--,”
Steve felt his stomach twist at the look on Tony’s face. “You’re lying. What aren’t you telling me?”
“I just--” Tony swallowed, and he looked so sad Steve felt like his heart might break. “There’s still time. One whole week. We can still call it off. You can move back to Brooklyn, and I’ll make sure you get any job you want.”
“What are you talking about?” Steve asked, and there was anger in his voice that he hadn’t intended but felt rip through his chest nonetheless.
“You’ve been so...preoccupied,” Tony managed fiddling with his cuff. “With what the tabloids have been saying. And I don’t blame you. I’ve had a long time to get used to it, and you were thrown in the deep end only to find out there was another deep right after it when you agreed to marry me.”
“Tony, I haven’t changed my mind. I love you.”
“I know.” And he sounded anguished now. “And the fact that you're so stubborn is one of the most charming things about you. But I can’t be the one to make you miserable. Not when you should be happy. So, I’m--I’m letting you go.” He put a lot of strength into the last few words, though his lip gave the faintest twitch of a wobble.
Steve felt the strangest burst of rage and affection as he stared at Tony, this man looking so regal yet so small against all the grandeur of this study.
“Alright, that's it.”
“What?” Tony asked, sounding surprised. Steve pulled out his phone, tapping away quickly.
“Um. Steve?”
“Shush!” He typed faster.
“Steve, you’re scaring me now.”
Steve got a ping on his phone as his message was replied to and hummed in satisfaction. He put the phone away and grabbed Tony’s wrist. Then he marched out the door.
“Steve. Steve. Steve? Really, is this some American custom I didn’t experience while I was in Boston? Here we would call it kidnapping.”
“For someone who was quite happy to toss me aside, you seem pretty interested in my whereabouts now,” Steve commented, not slowing down.
“I was not tossing you aside,” Tony shot back vehemently. “I was offering you an out.”
“Uh-huh. Real different.”
“It is,” Tony argued. “It very much is.”
“I think it’s best you stop talking,” Steve told him, nodding to the palace staff who opened the doors for them, letting them head out into the grounds where Natasha and Bucky were waiting.
“Do you enjoy making my life difficult?” She asked him, raising an eyebrow.
“Whenever possible.” He looked at Bucky, “how’d you get here so fast?”
Bucky’s eyes flicked almost imperceptibly to Natasha, a slight tinge to his cheeks. “Uh—“
Steve held up a hand. “Never mind. I get the picture. Are Sam and Ma on their way?”
“Your mother, yes, Mr Wilson is also, I believe, making his way here. There was a lot of swearing, so I chose to take it as a good sign.”
“Great, Rhodey and Jan?”
“En route.”
“The Queen mother?”
“No such luck. She decided to stay in the South of France for a few extra days ahead of the wedding to avoid the stress. It was on your daily briefing.”
“Which I absolutely read,” Steve lied, and Natasha huffed. “She’ll just have to attend the next one. Send her flowers in apology.”
“Of course.” Natasha turned and led the way, everyone following without complaint, except for Tony, who looked fit to be tied.
“I’m sorry, am I or am I not the sovereign? Do I not get to know what is going on in my own bloody castle?”
“You be quiet,” Steve told him, walking ahead and expecting him to follow. “You’ve done quite enough for the day.”
“Where are we going?!”
“Stevie, I can’t believe you. Of all the stubborn, impulsive--”
“Ma! It wasn’t my fault. He drove me to it!” Steve told her as she bustled up with Sam in tow. She’d pulled on one of her nicest dresses, but that was clearly all she’d managed. He had no doubt he’d get an earful later.
“What could this lovely boy have done for you to--”
“He was trying to ditch me.”
Sarah’s eyebrows flew up, and she turned to Tony in shock. It was a little funny to see the King of England reel back from his mom in panic. “That is a vast oversimplification!”
Sarah stared at him for a moment before she huffed and rolled her eyes. “I understand now. Have you at least got a priest?”
“The Dean of the Chapel Royal is on his way. He said he’d be delighted,” Natasha called over her shoulder.
“Then I can’t complain.”
“The dean? What in god’s name would the dean be doing?” Tony all but roared, sweeping a hand through his hair in frustration when no one took any notice.
They walked into the Chapel Royal, empty but still with expectant silence. Tony tried to speak more than once, but Steve hushed him, waiting for the others to arrive. As Rhodey and Jan filed in, Jarvis at their heels, the priest stepped in the door and gave them a wide smile.
“Your Majesty, such an honour! I can hardly believe it.”
“I--”
“Thank you, sir. We appreciate you coming so soon,” Steve said, shaking his hand. “We’re all here, so perhaps five minutes for everyone to freshen up - Natasha would you mind helping Ma? Thanks - then, if you’re happy to get started?”
“Oh, of course. Would you like to walk up?” He gestured to another priest who had appeared at the organ. He waved politely to them.
“Yes,” Steve agreed. “Together I think.”
“Of course. Give the signal when you’re ready.”
Steve grabbed Tony’s sleeve and pulled him outside the entrance to the chapel. Steve reached out to straighten his tie only to have his hand slapped away by a very put-out-looking King.
“Steve, if you don’t explain--”
“We’re getting married. Now, right here.”
Tony reeled back. “What?”
Steve huffed. “You really didn’t put it together? We’re in a church.”
“How could I? No one would say a word, and you were telling everyone I left you!”
“Well, you’re about to unleave me right now. When we have the big wedding on Friday, everything will be fine because we’ll already be married.”
Tony gawked at him. “You’ve gone mad. Actually, legitimately mad.” He reached out to cup Steve’s cheeks and hold him in place. “This is my fault. This whole thing was causing you more stress than I realised.”
Steve rolled his eyes. “Tony. I want to marry you. I don’t care about what anyone else says.”
“Steve--”
“Listen to me. The tabloids are annoying, and people are dicks. That’s just a fact. People were dicks to me before I met you just because I was small and poor. You have made my life better. You support me and spoil me way too much, and you love me just as I am. If you think I’m giving you up just because the papers discovered I’m actually just here to corrupt the crown with the gay agenda, you are out of your mind.”
Tony snorted, but his eyes were a little wet, so Steve leaned in and kissed him, trying to project all the love he felt for him into the contact. Tony’s arms came down to wrap around him and held him tight, even as Steve leaned in closer to tuck himself comfortably against Tony.
“You’ve made my life better too, you know,” Tony murmured as he pulled away from the kiss, resting his cheek on the top of Steve’s head. “I was struggling under the weight of expectations, with no one beside me and no idea how I would find the person who cared for me more than my crown. And then you came along, my little spitfire, who was just as likely to drive me crazy with your opinion as you were with your kisses, and I knew. I knew I had found exactly what I was looking for.”
Steve had to blink a little rapidly himself for a moment, but he gave Tony an elbow. “Maybe save something for the vows, Romeo.”
Tony laughed, sounding more relaxed now and he kissed Steve’s hair. “Shall we then?”
Steve stepped back, taking Tony’s hand in his. “I’m ready if you are.”
As they stepped in the door, the organ began to play, the wedding march echoing around them as their closest friends and family stood at the front, big smiles on their faces.
Sure, Steve had never imagined getting married in jeans and his favourite t-shirt, but then what in his life had gone to plan? Really the unexpected was working out very well for him so far.
The Dean cleared his throat, giving them a kind smile. "Let us begin."
The ceremony felt like a blur. Steve's eyes were on Tony every moment, as they repeated the words as they were bid.
...“I do.”...
...“I do.”...
“They have declared their marriage by the joining of hands and by the giving and receiving of rings. I, therefore, proclaim, for the first time in the history of this Royal family, that they are husband and husband.”
Tony leaned down to kiss him, and Steve met him halfway, feeling pure joy flow through him. He kissed Tony, his husband, as he heard the cheers and applause of everyone he loved all in one room.
Steve laughed as they were pelted with the rose petals that Jan had gotten from god know’s where, and he held Tony’s hand tightly in his. They retired to one of the parlours, sending for champagne and food, celebrating until late. Steve swayed a little as he and Tony made their way back to their room, the bubbles having gone straight to his head.
As they made it to the door, Tony scooped him up, making him laugh as he clung on tightly.
“To bed, your highness?” Tony asked, and Steve huffed out a laugh.
“Please, your majesty.”
He tossed Steve onto the bed, chuckling at him when he flailed to stop from rolling off. “Amazing, the newly minted Steven, Prince Consort, Duke of Edinburgh, Earl of Merioneth, Baron of blahblahblah, so on and so forth, in all his glory.”
“Sleep,” Steve whined, reaching out and pulling Tony to join him.
Tony slipped beneath the covers next to him, wrapping himself around him and joining their hands so he could kiss the two rings nestled there. “We should probably put these somewhere. If we’re seen wearing them, the jig’s up.”
“Leave them on,” Steve said, looking at how nice they looked together, “We’ll take them off in the morning, but tonight? Leave them on.”
“Ok,” Tony agreed, and he sounded pleased. “I know it’s a bit of a cliche, but you really have made me the happiest man in the world you know.”
“I don’t know, I’m pretty happy. I’m not sure I can let you have that title without a fight.”
Tony grinned. “You’re ridiculous. I can’t believe I agreed to put up with this for the next eighty years.”
“Eighty? Someone has a lot of confidence in their weird intermarrying genes.” Steve rolled so his face was mashed into Tony’s chest. “But I’m glad you realise you’re stuck with me now. That’s it. Forever.”
Tony kissed him then, firmly and deeply, holding Steve tight in his arms. “I do, promise. I won’t bravely suggest you leave me for your own good ever again.”
“You better not.”
Tony hummed in agreement, before his mouth quirked in a puckish smile. “I guess the only question now is whether or not putting a ring on your finger is enough to get me a wedding night shag.”
Steve snorted so hard he almost choked. “Wow, some Prince Charming you are.”
“I’m very charming: ask anyone.” His fingers slipped down Steve’s back. “I managed to bag the finest piece of American Arse the United States has to offer.” His hands cupped said feature, and that was something Steve definitely supported.
“I suppose I could be persuaded,” Steve offered, leaning into the touch. “But you have to call me, your Royal Highness.”
Tony barked out a laugh. “You hate stuffy titles.”
“I do,” Steve hummed. “But I don’t know, when you say it, I like it.”
“Oh yeah? All that power going to your head hmm?”
“Not the head you’re thinking of. Maybe you could stop yapping and take care of that.”
Tony snickered into Steve’s collarbone. “Yes, very demanding. The crown will suit you.” His hand drifted down to rub against the front of Steve’s jeans, and Steve moaned, arching up against the touch.
Steve kissed him again, shifting against him. “Come on then, might as well enjoy tonight. If we don’t get yelled at by Alison in the morning, I’ll eat my new crown.”
“Yes, your highness.”
Steve looked out the window of the car, feeling the anxiety twisting in his stomach. There were going to be a lot of eyes on them today, every movement and facial expression caught from every angle.
It was so different from the last few weeks, just him and Tony in a cabin alone, spending their days swimming in the lake, going for walks and relaxing away from prying eyes. But it was back to business as usual now, and he was going to have to get used to it again.
A warm hand wrapped around his, and lips pressed to his hair. “Not getting buyer’s remorse are we?”
Steve rolled his eyes. “You are not funny.”
“I’m a little funny.” Tony gave him a squeeze. “Don’t worry, the Royal Variety is pretty fun. I bet at least one comedian makes an inappropriate joke about my dead dad to be edgy!”
Steve snorted. “I know it will. Just feeling a little jittery I guess.” He looked out at the passing streets, the rain pouring down outside. “I haven’t missed the cameras I must say.”
Tony was quiet for a moment. Then he leaned forward. “Happy, pull over.”
“What boss?”
“Pull over.”
“We’re still five or so minutes away.”
“I know.”
Happy didn’t question it any further, and the car came to a halt at the curb.
“Tony, what are you doing?”
Steve watched as Tony grabbed the umbrella from the back of the seat and got out of the car, opening it with a whumph, and then closing the door behind him.
Steve watched as he walked around the back of the car and then opened Steve’s door, the umbrella blocking the falling rain as he held a hand out.
Steve took it, trusting that whatever ridiculous thing Tony was doing, he wouldn’t regret going along with it.
“No harm in getting a little more time for just us,” Tony tugged him under the cover of the umbrella. “Take a walk with me.”
Steve looked around. “It’s raining, and we’re going to be late.”
“They’ll wait, and you look fantastic, so I think I’ve earned a little more time to bask in your presence.”
Steve stared at him. “You are the cheesiest man alive.”
“I don’t hear a no,” Tony sing-songed, and Steve shook his head, a grin forming on his face.
“Aren’t you going to offer me your arm?”
Tony gave a sweeping bow before sticking out his elbow for Steve to curl a hand around.
Steve leaned against him as they walked, enjoying the warmth of his body. “I love you a lot: you know that?”
“I do. Sometimes it still surprises me when I wake up and realise I get to keep you.” Tony leaned down to kiss Steve’s temple, miraculously still keeping the umbrella level so they weren’t immediately soaked.
“You’ll get used to it,” Steve murmured. “By our tenth anniversary, you’ll be wondering where all your castles went instead.”
“Sounds about right.”
They walked in a comfortable quiet, until the lights of the theatre appeared in the distance, and the flashes of cameras were visible as the other guests arrived. As they got closer, the murmuring of the crowd of photographers got louder. There was a shout, and suddenly the cameras were turning towards them like a line of dominos falling.
“Once more unto the breach, beloved?”
Steve smiled, curling his fingers into Tony’s jacket sleeve. “Lead the way, my liege.”
