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Vegas Weddings Are How We Roll

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The phone is ringing. Why is the phone ringing? It’s much too early and bright for the phone to be ringing. Chris pulls the blankets over his head, and the ringing mercifully stops.

Ten minutes later there’s a knock on the door.

“Concierge, sir!”

Chris groans, because shouting, but he rolls out of bed and even remembers to double-check he’s wearing boxers before opening the door.

“I’m very sorry to bother you,” the guy in the red and yellow uniform holding a box wrapped in pearly-white paper with a bow on top says. “Your mother left a message, and was very insistent we pass it on at once.”

“My moth—”

“If I may quote, sir, her exact words were—” The guy pauses, hands Chris the box with an, “if you don’t mind?” and then fishes a piece of paper out of his back pocket. “Ahem. ‘Christopher Robert Evans you get your ass to a judge and get that travesty annulled immediately young man and then you come home and get married in front of your friends and family like a decent fucking human being.’” The guy folds the paper in half, and places it on top of the gift box. “Congratulations, sir,” he says.

He holds his hand out, so Chris shakes it.

“He wants a tip.” Sebastian appears from behind Chris, barefoot but wearing a suspiciously familiar set of black pants. He gives the guy a wad of crumpled bills, and shuts the door.

Chris looks at him.

He looks at Chris.

They both look at the box.

Chris puts it on the bed so he can open the card; Sebastian immediately grabs it and starts ripping the paper off. “What, are you a heathen?” Chris asks. Sebastian ignores him in favor of pulling out a very tasteful blue and silver vase.

Chris looks at him.

He looks at Chris.

They both look at the card.

Many happy returns of the day, and best wishes for your future together. Tom.

* * *

Fifteen Hours Earlier

* * *

<<Assemble!>> Chris texts, even though he, Mackie, Scarlett, and Sebastian are the only actual Avengers there. It counts. He always texts that to get the gang out when they’re in one place. It’s tradition or something.

Besides, the con’s over for the night, which means Hayley and James and the Agent Carter gang are free, and he hasn’t seen Dominic or the other Commandos since Cap 1. That was far too long ago.

“It’s gonna be fucking crazy out,” Sebastian says.

“You gonna miss it?”

“Not on your life, Evans.”

Chris grins, and Sebastian grins back.

“Oh god.” Neal comes up and pounds them both on the back. “Save it for the screen, boys, huh?”

“You’re in uniform.” Mackie looks around at them all. “Were we supposed to be in uniform? I’m not allowed to take the wings off set.”

“We just got off the panel,” Hayley explains. “The fans were very… enthusiastic.”

“Our panel ended an hour ago.”

“Did it?” Chris grins and shrugs his shoulders. “Oops?”

Scarlett, who hasn’t been out on the town since Rose was born, throws her arms around Chris and Mackie. “Boys,” she says, “I’m counting on you to get me drunk.”

Tonight, Chris thinks, is gonna be epic.

* * *
Three Hours Later

* * *

The problem with training, the thing is, not the gym or whatever, but that he can’t drink. He hasn’t had real—and Chris can, Chris can drink, okay? He can drink. But it’s been months almost probably, and he’s had five—three?—four Coronas, but he can’t. Metabolly it. Thing.

“I’m just saying.” Derek leans back so far he nearly falls, then overcompensates; Ken catches his arm before he can slam into the table. “You guys were, you know. I mean,” he says. “Cap and Barnes, you know?”

“Brokeback Supermountain,” Neal says.

Dominic nods several times, which is. That’s fair, it’s true. Steve and Bucky, together through time. “You guys are so in love it’s fucking obvious.” Dominic slaps the table, and Derek jumps. “You guys are so in love, you should just get fucking married.”

“Dude,” Chris says.

Dude,” Sebastian says.

“Speaking as Peggy Carter,” Hayley says, “there’s a chapel down the block.”

Mackie gets them another round of shots first (“To Steve and Bucky!”) because he has to charge his phone.

* * *

Four Hours Later

* * *

Anthony Mackie (@AnthonyMackie)
(1 of 2 to get all my shoutouts) #VegasCon5ever #truelove #90yearsinthemaking #MARVELouswedding #tinhatsrideagain #suckitscalia

Anthony Mackie (@AnthonyMackie)
(2 of 2) #evanstan #thatshowiflybaby #tilltheendoftheline…

Robert Downey Jr (@RobertDowneyJr)

@AnthonyMackie And I wasn’t invited? #CaptainRude

Anthony Mackie (@AnthonyMackie)

@RobertDowneyJr Caw-caw, Motherfucker! #IronLoser

Robert Downey Jr (@RobertDowneyJr)

@AnthonyMackie #ThisMeansWar

* * *

Three And A Half Hours Earlier

* * *

Somehow, in the 800 feet between the bar and the chapel, Scarlett’s acquired two giant cowboy boots filled with red, white, and blue frozen margaritas. She hands them both to James with a stern “hold these while I get this party started,” because he’s British and therefore won’t be rude and drink them. Then she loops her arm through Chris’s.

“You’re not Sebastian,” Chris tells her.

“I know.”

“But I’m. He. You’re not Sebastian.” This is an important point. “Where’s Sebastian?”

“End of the aisle,” Scarlett says. “I’ve known you most longest except for Scott—say hi, Scott—” Hayley holds her phone up but Scott’s too busy laughing hysterically, “—so I’mma walk you down the thing.”

“‘Cause you love me?” Chris leans down and kisses her cheek, then nearly falls over. At the end of the aisle Sebastian shouts, “hey!”

“Cause I love you, but not like. Not like Cap and Bucky. You’re my boy,” Scarlett says. “My boys!” She starts dragging Chris down the aisle.

“Hi!” Chris says, when he sees Sebastian. He gives him his very best smile. “You’re here!”

Sebastian glares at Scarlett until she unlinks her arm from Chris’s. He sways, but stays upright. “Now you take good care of him,” Scarlett says, “he’s. you know. Delicate.”

Chris starts laughing, because the last, the last thing he—he’s not—he’s got anxiety sometimes, but he’s an actor, that’s—and he’s way less delicate than—he’s got all the muscles, all of them, except for where Sebastian had to bulk up to match the metal prosth—pros—arm. But Chris even has that, that little one Hemsworth gets in the—so it’s funny, and he can’t help it. He’s maybe a little drunk, okay, they had more two—three?—one corona and the, the, the Mackie-shots, the, pickleback? and he might’ve maybe had—

“Hey!” Sebastian puts both arms on Chris’s shoulders and shakes him. “From now on,” he says, and he sounds very serious so Chris blinks and pays extra attention, “from now, the only boobs you grab are mine, dude.” Chris nods, and sniffles, and Sebastian smiles. “Okay,” he says.


“Speak up,” Mackie calls from the seats, “you’re on candid camera, baby!”

The Elvis-minister clears his throat. “Dearly beloved,” he begins.

“Wait!” Sebastian throws his arms out and stumbles into the podium. Altar? Book-thing. “Wait wait wait.” He hiccups. “Chris. Chris. Are you. Do you promise. Till the end of the thing. line. yes?"

"Dude," Chris says. "Of course, like, yeah. That's the whole. yes."

"We haven't gotten to the vows yet," Elvis says, but Chris is pretty sure he died like 40 years ago. 98% sure. 95% at least.

"Put the. put the ring," Sebastian says.

Scarlett looks around and mumbles, “oh shit rings,” but Derek pulls a pair out of his pocket.

“I totally paid the guy at the front,” he says, passing them to Hayley, who passes them to James (while Scott keeps laughing in the background of her phone.) James passes them to Dominic, who takes them to Scarlett, who takes them upfront and hands one to each of them. Of course, Chris has monstrous hands, as befits Captain America, so it only fits on his pinky. His pinky of love.

And commitment.

His pinky of love and commitment and sparkly, fake-gold rings. Ring. Stuff.

“Love is a thing of beauty,” Elvis says, “and eternal love is symbolized by the eternal circle of the rings we wear, the proof of—”

Chris bursts into tears.

"No!" Sebastian grabs his face. "No, it's okay. It's. me too, okay?"

"I'm not sad! I'm so happy! It's so great. You're so great!"

Sebastian kisses him, just surges forwards and wraps his arms around Chris’s neck and Chris falls backwards, pulling Sebastian down on top of him.

Elvis sighs. “You may kiss the groom,” he says, which, Chris is already doing that? But maybe ghosts have trouble keeping up with the thing. Times. Sebastian has a really nice ass.

“Whoo!” Mackie shouts, “cut the check, baby! Cut the fucking check!”

James and Neal throw rice everywhere.

“You know what this means,” Scarlett says, draining her second cowboy boot. “Hey, fellas, you know what this means?” She kicks them until they stop kissing and give her their (mostly) undivided attention. “AFTERPARTY SHOTS!”

“Who else is in town?” Chris asks. “We should. We should tell the world. No, no, we should tell the galaxy! Is Pratt in town? We should tell Pratt. And, and, and. Everyone!

“I got you covered,” Mackie says, “#reception #champagnescafe #redwhiteandrainbow #losersnotwelcome #thatmeansyoualito #dontgetmestartedonthomas”

“If you could just sign the wedding certificate,” Elvis says, because he’s still there even though Chris is 75—70% sure he died. maybe 68%. “Will you both being keeping your names?”

“Oh my god,” James says, “you should be the Evanstans, how cute is that?”

Chris starts crying again. “This is the greatest night of my life,” he tells Sebastian.

“Dude,” Sebastian says, “yeah. Me too.”

* * *

Eleven And A Half Hours Later

* * *

“I’m going to shower,” Sebastian says, cruelly abandoning Chris to their vase and card and ringing cellphone.

Why is his phone ringing? His mom already yelled at him.

Sebastian’s pants hit him in the head. “You should get that!”

He digs through the pile of clothes on the floor, and then all the extra sheets and pillows they’d thrown off the bad that night because hotel rooms come with at least 17 more pillows than any one person could use. And then he sees the caller ID, and freezes. “It’s Bob Redford,” Chris hisses.

Sebastian walks into the door.

“Chris! Glad to reach you; is Sebastian there too? Of course he is!”

Chris puts the phone on speaker.

“Hi, Bob,” Sebastian says, filling a hand towel with ice from the minibar that probably costs something like $10 a cube.

“Boys, I just wanted to say how happy I am for both of you. It’s a great thing you’re doing, for civil rights and gay pride, and it’s wonderful, just wonderful, that you’re starting out your lives together. Congratulations! All the kids who are going to look up to you now, just wonderful.”

“Thanks,” Chris says.

Sebastian presses the towel to his eye. “We appreciate it.”

“Sure, sure. Listen, I can’t talk, you know how it is. I just had to call and congratulate you. Take care, now.”

“Bye, Bob,” they say in unison. Chris hits end call, and immediately his phone rings again.

“Why is—why aren’t you getting calls?” He asks Sebastian

Sebastian shrugs, then loses his grip on the towel and drops ice all down his chest. “Just smarter, I guess,” he gasps, jumping up to shake the ice cubes off his boxers.

“Sure,” Chris says.

* * *

Five Hours Earlier

* * *

“That was my phone,” Sebastian says sadly, staring at the evil fountain that swallowed it whole. It is, admittedly, a rainbow of colors, but even a rainbow won’t fix Sebastian’s phone.

Chris kisses his cheek. “I’ll buy you a new one, dude. Anyway, anyway, anyway, what was I saying?”

“Caw-caw!” Sam runs past them and jumps into the fountain. “Caw-motherfucking-caw, I will Iron your ass, man!”

“No,” Chris says, “that wasn’t it.”

Scarlett and Hayley, sitting on the edge of the fountain and shrieking every time they get wet, whisper something to each other he can’t hear.

“I can’t. I can’t HEAR YOU!” Chris explains. “I don’t know if that was it if I can’t—”

“You were talking about my son,” Dominic says. “Iron Man.”

“I was?”

Sebastian nods a lot and lists sideways into Chris. “You said. you said his avat. av. his face thing corruptablated my phone.”

“Oh, yeah, ‘cause he wanzz Bucky locked away,” Chris says, “and thazz not ‘kay, ‘kay? ‘Cause I thing you, line to end thing.”

“Is it gonna end?”

“No,” Chris says. “We can’t let it! We have to. Neal! Neal, Neal, Dom’nic, James, everybody! We, we have to, we have to swear in front of, of all of you, me ‘n’ Sebastian, we aren’t, we’re never ending the line! We promise, right? Right?”

Yeah,” Sebastian says. “For to death and stuff! Health and sickness and rings.”

“And we’ll never take them off,” Chris says, “even though my pinky’s kind of green? Because love!”

Dude,” Sebastian says, and kisses him. Then he pulls back. “Wait, wait, wait. What?”

“Shhhhhhould we go back to Elvis? So he—no!” Chris cups Sebastian’s face in his hands and says, very loudly so everyone can hear, “NO MORE GHOSTS! And no more Tony Phoney. Tone Phones. Tony—nothing corrupitationed!”

Chris tries to throw his own phone in the fountain too, but Ken stops him. “You need that,” he says, “for spies!”

“Thazz us!” James calls. He’s sitting at Hayley’s feet, getting his head petted. It looks nice. “Well,” James says, “thazz them. I—hic!—I make the soufflé.” He hiccups again, and says, “acting!”

Sebastian has nice hands, Chris thinks. He’s probably good at petting.

“We should hotel,” he announces. “Cause petting.”

“And love,” Sebastian says, “right? Forever.”

“For the line!”

Everyone raises their glasses one last time. “For the line!” they cry, and drain their remaining drinks. Somewhere, Chris swears he can here Scott laughing.

* * *

Five Hours Later

* * *

You can’t get divorced,” Scott says.

“Hi Scott, how are you doing?”

“I’m fucking hungover, Jesus, I was matching you guys shot for shot from my bedroom how do you think I am, Chris, you can’t get divorced do not for once in your life do what Mom says okay???

“Mom wants an annulment.”

Sebastian kicks the bathroom door shut—loudly—and Chris can just hear the sound of the shower turning on.

“Mom’s wrong,” Scott says. “And you know I don’t say that lightly, but Chris, you cannot, not yet, okay? You cannot pull a Britney it’ll set gay rights back so fucking far—”

“You mean gay people don’t have the right to get quickie marriages in Vegas and regret it in the morning? Because I seem to recall the Court saying equality under the law.”

“Don’t snark at me, dude, it is too fucking early.”

“You’re on the East Coast,” Chris says. He lies back down on the bed, because it’s got the least number of pillows and the most number of indentations left behind by Sebastian’s body. Namely, one, which is still a little warm and also possibly more comfortable than Chris’s side of the bed. No, definitely. Motherfucker.

“Noon is always too early to be awake on a Sunday, you heathen.”

“Then nine a.m. definitely is,” Chris says. Sebastian slept here for basically almost five and a half hours, and he missed all of it. They probably maybe could’ve even had sex. Chris was in boxers when he woke up, but maybe they just did handjobs or something. He missed touching Sebastian’s dick. Sebastian probably has a really nice dick, and now he has to get annulled and never see it. He closes his eyes and can almost picture what it’ll look like. Yeah, with, with dark curly hair and—


He bolts upright. Jesus Christ he’d forgot his phone was right next to his ear. “What! Oh my god what is so important?!”

“You can’t get annulled,” Scott says. “I mean it.” He hangs up before Chris can reply.

Of course the phone rings again; it’s Brad this time. “Chris, buddy, I’ve talked to the whole team, and to Sebastian’s, and Kevin at Marvel. It’s all taken care of. You stay married for, oh, call it six months. You have the rest of the Civil War junket, you go home, you announce you’re still good friends but the stress of the movies versus everyday life, yada yada, bing bang boom. Marvel’s gonna do some rainbow toys, it’ll be great. Cool? Cool.”

“Congratulations,” Chris mumbles when the phone is finally silent, “so happy for you Chris. What a nice young man,” he says, stuffing the Cap uniform into a garment bag—it’s not too wrinkled, wardrobe won’t mind, right? “What are your plans for your future with your husband?” He twists the ring on his finger (which now has a definite line of green all the way around the base). “They better be exactly what I say they are, no but also, how are you, darling?”

“Are you talking to yourself?”

Sebastian’s dressed already—did he take clothes into the bathroom with him?—and toweling his hair. For a dude who spent almost an hour getting the look right before they’d go out back in the Cap 1 days, he really doesn’t seem to care much about the longer hair. Possibly there’s nothing to be done but tuck it behind his ear. Chris has a hazy memory of his fingers brushing the shell of Sebastian’s ear and getting a brilliant smile in return.

He tosses Sebastian his phone. “Call your manager; everyone else has figured it all out.”


He can’t hear the conversation over the pounding of the shower spray. Just the low murmur of Sebastian’s voice. Maybe. Maybe last night, this morning, whatever, the part he doesn’t really remember. Maybe that voice whispered straight in his ear. He grips his cock, tugs a little just to see if—yeah, yeah, that’s right. Maybe Sebastian pressed up against his back, and skimmed his hands under Chris’s boxers, ghosting over his skin. Maybe he was hard too, right there against the crack of Chris’s ass, and he kissed the side of Chris’s neck and murmured in his ear and his wedding ring would’ve made such a contrast to his hand, cool at first and then the metal heating up from friction and—Chris blows his load before he’s ready, almost. The shower washes it all away, and by the time he’s dried and dressed, Sebastian’s off the phone.

“So,” he says. “Six months?”

Sebastian gives him the fakest smile he’s probably seen from anyone who makes their living as an actor, ever. “Six months,” he says. “No problem.”