I Love You, Man

You're an Idiot

Your eyes were on fire. Even through closed lids, the sun was so bright that you felt the heat on them from across the room. Turning your head away only made the pounding within it stronger and more relentless, followed by a swirl of nausea in your stomach. How many shots had Scarlett given you? Four? No, five. Maybe it was seven? And what the hell did she give you? A small thought of what Steve must be feeling this morning crossed your mind, followed by the sadness of being nowhere near him when he was all that you wanted.

"Wake up..." Maria paused, pulling your blanket down from over your head, "oh, you look like hell, (Y/N). Did you sleep at all?"

"Why are you talking so loud?"

"I'm not. You're hung over." Your friend knelt down next to the couch, smiling too brightly for such an early hour, and you swore that the shine in her eyes and the whiteness of her teeth made the sunlight that much brighter in your eyes. "And it's mani-pedi day."

"Fuck," you groaned, pulling the blanket back over your head. "I don't care about my fingers and toes, Maria. They're fine. Let's just skip it."

"I've seen the band that goes with that rock on your finger. You need nice nails, girl." She yanked the blankets away and threw them to the other side of the room where you would have to go through her to get them back. You reluctantly sat up and grabbed your hair, taking the elastic from your wrist and making a messy bun on the top of your head. After watching you for a moment, her expression relaxed and she took a seat next to you.

"You're still getting married tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah, as far as I know." Tapping the cushions around you and running your hand along the edges of the couch, you searched for your phone only to come up empty. "Where did I...put...?" Despite your nausea and your better judgment, you flipped forward over the edge and peeked underneath, finally finding it below you. When you looked at the screen, your anxiety began to surge and your hang over started to clear. "Well, that's just great."

15 messages from Steve, 12 from Chris.

"Hey, I think we need to push the mani-pedi outing back a few hours. Someone's really insistent on apologizing in person."

~~~

"I didn't think you'd come."

"Oh, no, look at your face..." you sighed, reaching up to gently touch the bandage just above the line of Chris' beard. "I'm sorry. Steve gets a little overprotective of me. Are you okay?"

"What, this? It's nothin'," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand and a smile. "Grillo cracked my lip open a few months ago during filming and it was way worse than this."

With a small nod you took your seat at the small outdoor café table across from him and ordered a water to try to fight off what was left of your after-party sickness, holding the icy glass against your wrists to cool your body. "So what was so urgent that I had to delay my big girly extravaganza? I think you know me at least well enough to know how much I just love that stuff," you snickered sarcastically.

"Yeah," Chris sighed, swirling his coffee cup absentmindedly in his hand. "Listen, (Y/N), I wanted to apologize." He shook his head slightly and his brow furrowed, his eyes still cast away from you. "Steve was completely right to knock me on my ass. That's twice now that I've made a fool of myself with you guys, and I totally deserved it. I'm just thankful that he accepted my apology...but the one I really need is yours."

"There's nothing to apologize for, Evans. I'm glad he knocked you out."

Chris sat up straight in his chair with a wide grin, finally looking up at you, "oh, that's how it is?"