i. The first time, it’s like something out of a romcom.
Tony looks up, and there Steve is, standing at the top of a staircase. A light overhead makes his hair look like spun gold, carefully combed into place, curling softly at the ends.
He looks around the room, sets his jaw, and pulls his military cap on, tilted at a jaunty angle.
Tony feels his mouth go dry.
He stares as Steve starts down the stairs. The perfect, straight lines of the uniform make him look even taller, even more elegant. His shoulders are endless, tapering down in the most graceful vee Tony’s ever seen. The jacket sits right at his hips, narrowing right into the clean fall of his slacks and the sight of it makes Tony’s stomach curl and curl, and curl, just behind his belly button.
Steve steps down onto the main floor, shoes shined so they gleam in the light of the chandeliers. Tony watches his hand clench into a fist and realizes: he’s nervous.
Then Steve looks over and catches Tony’s eye.
Tony jolts, champagne splashing over his fingers. He jerks, the glass slips from his hand and shatters at his feet. “Fuck!”
"Tony!" he hears and his head snaps up, and there’s Steve, looking so goddamned concerned and so goddamned gorgeous it, literally, actually, in reality takes his breath away.
Steve looks around at the mess around his feet, hands held out as if to stop him from moving. “What happened? Are you okay?”
Tony is gawking, he can feel himself gawking, staring open-mouthed at the way the olive makes Steve's pale, rosy skin look.
"Tony?" Steve says, concerned.
Oh, god, what the hell happened to his mouth?
Steve's brow creases even deeper. “Are you okay?” His Adam's apple shifts behind the shirt secured around his throat as he talks and Tony’s brain shorts out.
"Huh?" he says.
The look on Steve's face shifts from concerned to suspicious, his eyes narrowing. Tony feels a hot blush seep across his cheeks.
"You’re fine!" he blurts and is immediately horrified by the lack of finesse in the line what is wrong with him the uniform is killing his brain cells.
And Steve is realizing it. Tony can see the gears turning behind his eyes—they’re so goddamn blue it’s unreal—and that’s terrifying.
Steve takes him by the arm, drawing him out of the way as some of the waitstaff materialize to clean up the mess.
He reaches for the cap on his head and Tony can feel him watching his face and there’s still nothing he can do about the way his mouth slides open as Steve tucks the hat under his arm.
"Huh," Steve says thoughtfully and smiles.
A small, strangled noise escapes Tony’s throat.
He is so screwed.