Steve stares and stares and stares some more but no matter how many times he blinks the monstrosity hanging where his suit was supposed to be did not vanish, in fact, it seemed to be getting worse.
In spite of what people think he is aware that his suit is a little over the top, he’s dating Tony after all, and he can only be called ‘the walking pin-up for patriotism’ so many times before he admits the truth. But that’s okay because the people wanted, no, needed to see him as the embodiment of everything America stands for, which includes the star and the red, white, and blue, and also being much more form fitting the second time around. (He has a feeling Phil intended that and he isn’t brave enough to start that conversation because he knows how Tony feels about the way it accessorizes his…uh…backside and he refuses to think about Phil thinking about his…yeah.)
The point is Steve knows his costume is somewhat corny and he’s come to terms with that because it’s part of who he is now and that was important but this….this is an abomination.
The suit is basically armor; it’s plated across the midsection and chest, covering his vital organs, but somehow, someone has decked out the thinner spots with rhinestones. With all the staring he does it’s easy to see the pattern. At first glance it looks like a mass of shiny stones all varying in red, white, and blue, (which makes it more bearable, he thinks since rainbow would have been too jarring to contemplate) and amidst the chaos he sees tiny groupings that form little stars.
He doesn’t have to think about it, he knows who did this, can see it as clearly as if the perpetrator had left a neon sign with flashing letters and scantily clad women to gesture at it. Clint is a pain in the ass but he is more about leaving crude sharpie drawings in his wake or seeing how long he can hide out in a room without anyone noticing him. (Clint had tried that in Steve and Tony’s room once, but just once, and he’d limped for three days straight.)
No, this travesty before him is a sign of an overactive imagination and absolutely zero awareness of personal boundaries.
“Anthony Edward Stark!” He’s had years of practice shouting orders amidst the chaos of bombs exploding, people screaming, and all sorts of cosmic powers coming out to play. He knows and relishes that every person in the mansion, and possible even on the grounds, can hear him. “Why do you even own a bedazzler and what have you done to my uniform with it?”
He will never admit out loud that he is somewhat proud of himself for even knowing what a bedazzler is.