I've got sunshine on a cloudy day.
When it's cold outside I've got the month of May.
I guess you'd say
What can make me feel this way?
My girl (my girl, my girl)
Talkin' 'bout my girl (my girl).
Tony had an aversion to murder. Since his rebirth as Iron Man and with his renewed purpose to protect the good in the world around him, he very rarely had thoughts that were so destructive towards another person.
But on this day, his mind was blinded by both rage and sorrow, the two emotions battling within him to take hold and to drive his actions. It wouldn't take much for his hand to squeeze the life out of this little wretch of a man, tightening the grip on his neck with every new thought about where he was supposed to be right now, the color in his fingers blanched away. Tony wasn't even wearing his suit; he wanted to feel this moment with his bare hand, and the desire terrified him.
"Do it...already," the man grunted through a crushed windpipe, "or are you...enjoying it...that much?"
"I'm not supposed to be here. I was supposed to be done stopping your worthless ass and back home by now," he spat out in reply. "I have something to do that is infinitely more valuable than the life that I'm squeezing out of you. And no, I'm not enjoying this at all."
"Fooled...me..."
A low growl was building deep within Tony's chest at the taunting, and if he were any less of a man than he was when he woke up that morning, he would have finished the guy off then and there. He closed his eyes and released his hold, finally filling the world around him with the sounds of pain and frustration that he had been holding in, hoping that thousands of miles away, you would somehow hear him and know that he would never forgive himself, and he would never ask it of you.
~~~
"What do you mean, he's not here?! He has to be here! He's supposed to give me away in fifteen minutes!"
"I know, (Y/N), I'm really sorry," Natasha replied cautiously. She held her stance at the door and well out of your line of anger, standing with her bouquet in front of her with the hopes that you wouldn't ruin such a beautiful arrangement of your favorite flowers just to get to her. She was right, but not because of the flowers, nor because of her perfectly applied make up and the gentle curls in her vibrantly red hair; she was right because you had such a crushing pain in your chest at the idea that your own father wasn't going to be there on your wedding day to give you away, that you couldn't move.
"He hasn't even called in?"
"No, and we tried to call him...we've tried over and over..." she stopped, realizing that she was now only inciting your panic as well with the thoughts that maybe he wasn't okay, "but we'll try again."
"How...how am I supposed to do this without him?" you whispered, more to yourself than to her.
"Well, we think we have a solution," she replied more energetically, "and he knows that he could never replace Tony, but he wants to help." She held up a hand to hold you in place, turning to open the door behind her and peek her head out. You could hear that she was talking to someone, giving them the okay to enter, and when you saw who had stepped up to take Tony's place, your heart immediately melted at the sight.
"Okay, I know that I'm not your first choice, but I promise that I won't make any jokes about Steve while I walk you to him. I don't even care how old he really is, I promise."
"Oh, Bruce," you sighed, the tears filling your eyes almost immediately, "you don't have to."
Nat rushed forward, grabbing a tissue from the pocket of her maid of honor dress, "hey, no crying. I spent too long on that gorgeous face for you to just wash it all off before you even get one picture taken." She gently wiped away the few drops of tears that had escaped beyond your lids and onto your cheeks, smiling despite her own pain at seeing her best friend in any other way than the picture of joy on the biggest day of her life. She hadn't had this day for herself yet, and she hadn't even stopped to consider ever having it until you asked her to help you plan your wedding to Steve; she hadn't stopped to realize that it was something that she wanted until she saw you in this very dress for the first time.
"Sorry, I'll try," you murmured through a deep breath while you tried to calm yourself, "but what good are pictures if my dad isn't even here to be in them with me?"
"He'll be here, I know it, (Y/N)," Bruce added, stepping up to you with his arm extended to accept you, "because if there's one thing that we know for sure, it's that for every minute that he keeps you waiting, Tony Stark will punish himself far worse than anything that any of us could imagine for him."
~~~
I've got so much honey the bees envy me.
I've got a sweeter song than the birds in the trees.
Well, I guess you'd say
What can make me feel this way?
My girl (my girl, my girl)
Talkin' 'bout my girl (my girl).
When your bridal party saw you come down the decorated stairs of the tower, they gasped first at the sight of you, but then silenced quickly under the realization that Tony's arm wasn't the one that you were holding. Natasha had pushed her way out in front to meet them before you, turning to hush them with a scolding look that dared anyone to challenge her. One pair at a time, they lined up at the doors to the hall where Steve would be waiting to meet you, their arms linked and facing away, but you could still feel their pity and you didn't want it. When the doors opened and your guests stood to greet you, the reality sunk in and you gripped Bruce a little tighter.
"You okay?" he whispered, returning the tight squeeze on your hand.
"Just get me to Steve," you nodded. "Don't let me fall, Bruce."
"I've got you, honey, don't worry about a thing."
The processional music started and your head began to spin; you watched your party enter slowly, taking intermittently paced steps as if they were in slow motion. The music was echoing so loudly in your head and your mind hazed at too many ideas of how this wasn't happening the way you had dreamed that it would. You tried to push the intrusive thoughts away, but they were persistent and cruel, and as if it weren't enough already, they played on your fear that something had happened to Tony. When your turn came at the door, you stopped at the threshold took a deep breath, finally meeting Steve's gaze. He was your focal point; the one thing keeping you held together; even Bruce's hold paled in comparison to the one that your future husband had on you.
"Here we go." Bruce's first step into the hall required a little pull at your arm to get you to move, but once he had you in motion, he fulfilled his promise to keep you upright and had you at Steve's side with a look of accomplishment all over his face.
"Thank you, Doc," Steve greeted quietly, reaching out to take your hand, "I'll never be able to repay you."
"Never have to." With a quick kiss on your cheek and a handshake with Steve, Bruce stepped down and took the seat that was meant to be Tony's. You wouldn't look back, knowing that he had chosen to sit there, allowing your mind to believe that if you didn't look back to see any different, your dad was there.
"I'm sorry, doll. I know you wanted this to be perfect."
"I'm up here with you, Steve. So it already is."
It was the absolute truth, and you meant it just as much as the "I do" that you were only minutes away from saying. But even with the with the immense happiness that filled you in that moment, there was a pain pushing its way to the surface that no amount of joy could hide away.
~~~
Dinner had come and gone, toasts had been made, and the two of you had just barely avoided cake being unexpectedly smashed into your faces by your new spouse because of your fast reflexes. When the music began to start the final stretch of a long night of celebration, everyone around you reveled in the party and readily ran out to the dance floor to enjoy a little well-earned fun. Bucky and Sam had Steve out on the floor within seconds of the first song, and when he looked back to you to save him, you wouldn't have it; no one needed to unwind more than Steve, and in all honesty, it was entertaining for you to watch him try.
Natasha had managed to get you out for a few songs, even when she knew that your heart wasn't in it. Your first dance with Steve was a welcome one, and if you had the choice, it would have ended the night there. But since no one seemed to have the wherewithal to stop it, or maybe they were hanging onto hope that Tony would miraculously arrive, the time for the father-daughter dance had come.
"I'd be honored to join you again," Bruce offered, slipping his tuxedo jacket back on, "but if you don't want to, I'd be just as honored to tell the DJ to move along for you."
You were just about to decline, finding it hard to even consider the dance without Tony, but at Steve's gentle urging, you took your friend up on his offer. "That would be lovely, Bruce, thank you again."
"You guys really need to stop thanking me for stuff that I'm more than happy to do."
The lights of the room darkened, leaving only a spotlight of warmth around the two of you on the dance floor as the music began. The first few notes shook you, making it clear to Bruce how hard it was for you when your deep breath to steady yourself brought on an obvious tremor in your entire body. "Not gonna cry," you mumbled, leaning forward to rest your head against his chest as he led your movements to sway gently with the rhythm.
"It's okay if you do."
"It's not even so much that he isn't here," you replied softly, "now I'm worried why he isn't here."
"Come on, it's Tony. Other than how much he's going to suffer from not being here-"
"Banner, I need to cut in," Tony panted, running up to your side and all but ripping you from the doctor's arms, the loud cheers from the crowd around the room drowning out the scream of surprise that you let out at the sight of him. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'm so, so sorry. I'm sorry," he begged repeatedly, holding you so tightly that it was hard to breathe under the pressure. "I tried to get here as fast as I-"
"I don't care," you broke in, "I don't. I'm just so relieved that you're here. I was so worried."
He pushed back from the embrace just slightly to look at you, taking in the sight of you in your dress and then to the set of rings on your finger, bringing your hand to his lips. "I'll find a way to make this up to you, I promise."
"That's easy, Dad," you smiled, leaning into him, resting your head on his chest and taking his hand in yours, "dance with me."
I don't need no money, fortune or fame.
I've got all the riches, baby, one man can claim.
Well, I guess you'd say
What can make me feel this way?
My girl (my girl, my girl)
Talkin' 'bout my girl (my girl).