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When Steve and Bucky finally said their I-do’s, Tony could have wept. Not because he was sentimental, or because he was proud of them for sticking a big middle finger in the face of bigots, but because that meant the wedding was almost over. All the planning and arranging and rearranging and bickering and re-planning and re-rearranging was finally done. All that was left was to go give his obligatory groomsman speech and get just drunk enough at the reception to use that as an excuse to be extra clingy with his own boyfriend. Not that Loki would buy that he was actually too drunk, per se, but he would be more likely to indulge him.
When their row was dismissed, Tony stood, offering his arm before Loki had even had a chance to adjust his perfectly tailored waistcoat. Not that he needed to because, you know, magic, but it was the principle of the thing. The corner of Loki’s mouth curled up as he took it, his porcelain fingers even more elegant and striking against the sleeve of Tony’s burgundy suit. A custom-made Burberry at Loki’s request, since he turned up his nose at every other Iron-Man-Red suit and threatened to curse him if he even considered wearing one in His Majesty’s presence. Not that Tony was complaining. He had to admit that the burgundy really suited him. It also very subtly complemented Loki’s. The fabric was something that Tony had never seen from a world he had no hope of ever pronouncing correctly, an elegant shade of deep green that looked almost black until it caught the light just so. Tony just assumed it was magic, even though Loki had repeatedly assured him it wasn’t.
“Are you ready to party?” Tony asked, squeezing his arm, “Because I’m ready to get this over with so we can bang and go the fuck to sleep.”
“Behave,” Loki admonished, though his eyes glimmered teasingly, “If you’re too drunk, I’ll have to put you to bed without sex.”
Tony flapped his hand dismissively. “It’ll be fine. A couple drinks while we wait for the happy couple, run through the speech, then we can leave.”
*
Tony was drunk.
Which in his opinion was totally Clint’s fault, and not at all because he couldn’t let a challenge go unanswered. Besides, Clint signed something that Tony was almost positive meant “pussy” when he started to decline, and at that point, it was game on.
It didn’t help that it took four hours for Bucky and Steve to finish their photos and return to the rooftop garden (well, Tony had pulled some strings to get it but the sentiment was there). And since it was an open bar that Tony helped fund, it was totally just him making sure he got his money’s worth.
By the time everyone was seated for dinner, he was four drinks and more than five shots deep (he lost count), leaning on Loki’s shoulder playing with the soft little curls at the nape of his neck that were too short to be part of his elegant braid. Tony was listening to Sam give his speech, but only just. He was too busy memorizing the silky texture, wishing he could pull out Loki’s braid and run his fingers through it, crawl into his boyfriend’s lap and—
The crowd began to clap, and Tony jumped. Sam was giving the newlyweds hugs, chatting with them softly before starting to make his way back to his seat. Mic was open. Before Tony could even consider hopping up to get his impromptu speech out of the way, Loki stood, picked up his champagne flute, and turned to face the happy couple in one fluid motion. For a beat, he said nothing. Tony cut his eyes to the head table. Steve started to frown before Bucky put his hand over Steve’s, ever so subtly elbowing his side until the Star Spangled Boyscout schooled his expression into politely interested neutrality.
Tony raised a brow. He would have to get Bucky to teach him how to do that.
“You look dashing together,” Loki began, grinning when Steve flushed, “And Anthony and I wish you nothing but the best, as you deserve.” He raised his flute, the smile softening until it warmed his face with an honest affection that made Tony’s heart do a little flip that he was totally going to blame on the alcohol. “To your union.”
The rest of the room rumbled in agreement, soft clinks and a smattering of applause falling on Tony’s deaf ears. In face, if he had been looking, he would have seen Bucky grinning from ear to ear as he turned to look at Steve, who was still staring at Loki, blushing and smiling gratefully before he embraced his husband.
But Tony wasn’t paying attention. He was too busy gaping at his own boyfriend to really notice the newlyweds. The soft lighting in the reception hall haloed Loki’s head, soft wisps of hair framing his face as he smiled warmly and sipped his champagne before elegantly folding himself back down into his seat as easily as if it were a throne and he had concluded his princely duties.
Good god, Tony wanted him.
He didn’t hear another word as the next speech started. Instead, he scooted closer to Loki and nuzzled into his neck, inhaling the crisp, clean scent of sandalwood and ozone and something electric that Tony was sure was Loki’s magic. Not that Loki agreed with him. But Tony knew that’s what it was, because he knew what live electricity smelled like, knew it as intimately as the scent of fresh oil and sex, and Loki didn’t even use technology very much. Loki especially didn’t tinker with anything electrical except the TV remote, so the electricity smell had to come from somewhere. He pressed a kiss to the smooth, pale column of Loki’s neck, just breathing in the comforting, warm musk.
Tony heard soft clapping, but more so, he felt Loki move, jostling him as he gave a slow (possibly sarcastic) clap. Maybe it had been Thor’s speech, then. He didn’t care either way, but that meant that the speeches were probably over, and Steve and Bucky would be doing their first dance soon and he should want to watch that. He should. Maybe. Possibly. But he also wanted Loki to lay him down in their bed and nip at his neck—
Fingers jabbed into his side and he yelped, nearly jumping into Loki’s lap. Clint made a gesture at him to get a room, and Natasha was glaring daggers at him which meant that she was considering strangling him with his tie, which honestly sobered him up a little. He mouthed “your fault” at Clint, and the cheeky bastard smirked, fingers flying as he signed.
Pussy. I can hold my liquor.
Oh, it was fucking on.
*
The first dance was very sweet and lovely, blah blah blah, whatever. In fact, it was the last thing that Tony remembered clearly aside from Clint ordering a huge tray of shots. The rest of the evening was a blur of tequila, Bailey’s, and Red Bull. He remembered snippets. Hugging Clint after they both stumbled onto the dance floor, giggling and trying to get their liquid limbs to move. Giving Natasha super good advice about life and love and something about pineapple while she helped him to the bathroom. Catching Steve and Bucky hiding away in a quiet corner having a sweet moment before quickly stumbling away as to not ruin the moment.
But mostly he remembered Loki. Loki touching his hips and slow dancing with him before the tequila really kicked in. Loki hauling him to his feet every time he tripped over Clint. Loki kissing his forehead after he told him how he could totally make something that could hear and interpret dog barks, he was sure of it. Loki laughing as he matched Tony drink for drink without any consequence because “Midgardian spirits are weaker than the lightest Asgardian ales.”
By the time they were kicked out the reception space, Tony was staring to come down off the drinking high, the world starting to pitch and roll like a ship under him as they said their goodbyes. He hugged Clint and Natasha, telling them how much he loved them. Clint gave him a sloppy kiss on the cheek and Natasha gently detached them and guided him to their car as he waved unsteadily. Steve thanked him profusely for giving them the perfect day, and Bucky probably flirted with him. Bucky flirted with everyone. And Tony liked his flirts because they were old-timey and double entendres were sexy. Bucky also winked at him when they left, which was also probably flirting and if Tony thought Steve would share, Tony would tap that. Bruce, the only one totally sober who wasn’t a super soldier, gently scolded Tony for getting so drunk and something else before giving him a really nice hug. Tony might have kissed him. Maybe. He might have missed and Bruce caught him instead of letting him eat asphalt. (He loved Bruce in the platonic way of them being great friends because Bruce loved him for being himself and if he kissed him he hoped Bruce knew that it was a platonic kiss.)
After that mushy display, Loki peeled him away from Bruce, wished him a good night, and zapped them home, which made the wooziness significantly worse, disorientation causing his knees to buckle as the earth pitched to the left. Loki—bless him—caught his ragdoll-ing body before he hit the ground and eased him into their bed.
Tony groaned. Had their bed always been this soft? He nuzzled into the plush mattress with its silky sheets and cushy pillows. Unfortunately, the blissful softness was only a temporary reprieve. The world started to pirouette like a ballet dancer, faster and faster, and oh god, Tony groaned as he felt his stomach roll in a dangerous way.
Cool hands pressed against his face, and the queasiness faded into an afterthought. Tony sighed, nuzzling into Loki’s touch, feeling the soft rumble of his love’s voice as his cheek came to rest on Loki’s chest. Tony loved his voice. Loved the honeyed way it curled around him as he said sweet things, and Tony wanted to kiss him. He tried to tug Loki closer, pulling at his clothes, but Loki didn’t budge.
“Not now, love,” Loki murmured, magically changing Tony into his favorite old Metallica shirt and a loose pair of boxers, “You’re unwell.”
“‘M fine! Barely drunk any alcohol after Clint got like, forty shots.”
“You and I both know that isn’t true, my pet. You’ve had your fair share. But now it’s time for you to sleep.”
Tony pouted at the smug look on his face. “But I wanna... want you to fuck me.”
“Not tonight.”
“But... you called me pet, you always say that one when you wanna fuck, ‘s not fair and now you gotta do it, ‘s how it works, I don’t make the rules—“
“Anthony.”
Tony froze. That tone meant he was in trouble. He glanced up at Loki. He looked fond but weary, maybe even a little frustrated. It was hard to tell with the fuzziness from the booze.
“Go to sleep. Now.”
Tony pouted. “Just a kiss?”
Loki rolled his eyes, cupping Tony’s cheek and allowing one quick, chaste kiss. “That’s all you get. Goodnight, my love.”
Before he could open his mouth to protest, weariness overtook him. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of green magical light as his eyes fluttered shut. Before he fell asleep, he felt Loki cuddle him to his chest, head over his lover’s heart.