7. You may punch him, Steve.starkingenuityMay 24 2012, 03:48:27 UTC
"All I'm saying," Tony murmurs, leaning against the wall of the room he's pretty much cornered Steve in during the Avenger's charity Christmas party, "is that maybe you sell yourself short. Just because you're a few decades older than the dinosaurs doesn't mean you can't cut loose sometimes!" His breath is obviously thick with liquor...but when is it not?
Steven has taken that on board and now just has to remember how fists workskinnyavengerMay 24 2012, 04:00:22 UTC
"Dinosaurs?"
Steve tries to focus on Mr. Stark...Starks...but it's difficult when the room is spinning so violently and he can't move from the little table he has taken to sitting on.
Was liquor this strong 40 years ago? Steve's sure it wasn't. He can't remember a time when he was this intoxicated. Although maybe that was the point of intoxication? Steve has no idea.
Maybe he should have been Iron Man for this instead. Less dangerour.starkingenuityMay 24 2012, 04:07:05 UTC
"Dinosaurs. Terrible lizards. Roamed the Earth before the floods if you're going to get all God-y on me." Teasing Steve about his morality and his faith is too amusing. Tony doesn't buy that good boy attitude though. Perfect hair. Disney doe eyes. Steve might be the total package for genuine sweetness, but he's also a soldier and soldiers see and do things others might never imagine. Tony leans in. "You never talk to anyone at these parties. You sit here alone and sign the occasional autograph. Live a little. Get that hair messy!" He'll ruffle it for you if you don't! Oh, too late.
Nah. The amount of liquor he's had should soften the blow. skinnyavengerMay 24 2012, 04:12:10 UTC
Wait. What? Hair?! Nooo!
Steve flails a little in the space above his head. Because that's where his hair is, obviously "Stop!" but he loses his balance on the table and falls back into a position more against the wall. It's uncomfortable but moving requires effort.
"I don't really like parties." Because there's dancing at parties. Gosh. "Why don't you live? Go have another drink, Mr. Stark." Was that a slur? Probably.
"Mr. Stark was my dad." Ha. Right, oldest line ever. Tony climbs up on the table with Steve, a little more gracefully, and watches the people making sloppy attempts at flirting to pair off for the night. Tony never does anything sloppily. "But you know what? I get a kick out of it when you call me that." He's got one of those awful, shit-eating smiles.
Tony Stark triumphant. No one wants to be faced with that, drunk or sober.
A foot, which is connected to one of the good Captain's legs, is lifted and used to push Tony back off the table. Though that took an awful lot of effort and...urgh.
"Don't do that," he says as though he's a mother asking a child not to put finger prints all over the television screen.
For a man whose blood alcohol level is twice the legal limit on a good day lately, Tony's surprisingly graceful. Iron Man has taught him well how to hold himself. He stumbles just a bit, nearly spilling his drink, and turns an indignant smile onto Steve before he grabs for the front of the Captain's coat to pull him off the table as well. "I don't need a mom, Cap."
Steve is limp for a moment because he has no idea what just happened. But there are hands on his coat and still the strong smell of scotch or whiskey or whatever it is that Mr. Stark drinks.
"Get off." Steve makes another attempt at pushing his predator away. The flat of his hand against Mr. Stark's shoulder. "I've told you before, I don't cuddle. Or dance."
"What do you do then? Go through enough hair gel to finance a small army?"
What's the only thing better than flirting dangerously in the line of sight of friends and stock holders and media? Prompting the object of that dangerous person to hit you, of course. Steve can do more than go toe to toe with him, even in that spangly jumpsuit of his. It's always fantastic. Even when he's a drunken baby deer.
He has pretty much had enough, although he's still missing the obvious flirting, thanks to an age that not only frowned upon homosexuality, but also beat it up with iron fists, then shoved it under the carpet where it would be hidden for all eternity.
"I'm sick of this," he stays, making another attempt at pushing Tony away. "Go back to your flashy, suit and deep pocket and.." then he trails off. But shoves Tony again for good measure.
...And now people are paying attention. They're at a party, a fund raiser. The men and women here are trying to hobknowb with them -- and those girls in the corner are making no headway with Thor at all when they keep mentioning wanting to play with his hammer -- and are therefore keeping a very close eye on everyone.
Tony laughs, putting an arm around Steve's shoulders -- too tall, jeez -- and makes excuses for them. "A little Avengers business," he cooes and ushers the poor backwards young-old man outside.
Steve shrugs him off, takes a wobbly step away but thinks better of it and turns back to smack his fist into the playboy philanthropist's jaw. But of course he over balances a little, and has to take a few steps forward to compensate.
There's a hand on his shoulder. One that's big and stronger than Stark's, probably Thor's but Steve shrugs that off, too, even though it's probably the only thing keeping him upright.
Ouch. No. Really. Ouch. Steve, you're a super human. Your fists hurt when Tony isn't suited up! The billionaire tastes blood. And then smells blood. And then realizes that his white shirt is now ruined. But than God Steve can't stand up right because the little knock on the jaw had the potential to cause a little fracturing of the jaw otherwise.
Catching Steve during his Bambi act as the guests gasp and Tony's smile is less forth coming with his teeth painted red, he can feel his temperatures rising and his reactor humming in his head. At least Thor's there. Not that it matters. Tony is still a squishy human like this.
"You wanna swing at me, Cap? Go ahead!" There's a flash of the thrill seeker in his dark eyes.
"I think I just did," the superhuman grunted, now resting an awful lot of his weight on the Norse God. "But I can go again!" Though he can't really, and that's quite apparent in his lack of ability to get away from Thor. Not that you can see him trying.
Tony gently pats Thor on the upper arm as he passes and picks up another drink. "Damage control. Get him home, Thunder Lungs."
"I do not see how my lungs--"
Tony's just going to ignore that. He'll mingle. And in two hours he'll go home to apologize for letting things get out of hand. If he's not drunk off his ass.
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Steve tries to focus on Mr. Stark...Starks...but it's difficult when the room is spinning so violently and he can't move from the little table he has taken to sitting on.
Was liquor this strong 40 years ago? Steve's sure it wasn't. He can't remember a time when he was this intoxicated. Although maybe that was the point of intoxication? Steve has no idea.
"What?"
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Steve flails a little in the space above his head. Because that's where his hair is, obviously "Stop!" but he loses his balance on the table and falls back into a position more against the wall. It's uncomfortable but moving requires effort.
"I don't really like parties." Because there's dancing at parties. Gosh. "Why don't you live? Go have another drink, Mr. Stark." Was that a slur? Probably.
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Tony Stark triumphant. No one wants to be faced with that, drunk or sober.
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He'd much rather the hair ruffling.
A foot, which is connected to one of the good Captain's legs, is lifted and used to push Tony back off the table. Though that took an awful lot of effort and...urgh.
"Don't do that," he says as though he's a mother asking a child not to put finger prints all over the television screen.
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"Get off." Steve makes another attempt at pushing his predator away. The flat of his hand against Mr. Stark's shoulder. "I've told you before, I don't cuddle. Or dance."
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What's the only thing better than flirting dangerously in the line of sight of friends and stock holders and media? Prompting the object of that dangerous person to hit you, of course. Steve can do more than go toe to toe with him, even in that spangly jumpsuit of his. It's always fantastic. Even when he's a drunken baby deer.
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He has pretty much had enough, although he's still missing the obvious flirting, thanks to an age that not only frowned upon homosexuality, but also beat it up with iron fists, then shoved it under the carpet where it would be hidden for all eternity.
"I'm sick of this," he stays, making another attempt at pushing Tony away. "Go back to your flashy, suit and deep pocket and.." then he trails off. But shoves Tony again for good measure.
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Tony laughs, putting an arm around Steve's shoulders -- too tall, jeez -- and makes excuses for them. "A little Avengers business," he cooes and ushers the poor backwards young-old man outside.
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There's a hand on his shoulder. One that's big and stronger than Stark's, probably Thor's but Steve shrugs that off, too, even though it's probably the only thing keeping him upright.
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Catching Steve during his Bambi act as the guests gasp and Tony's smile is less forth coming with his teeth painted red, he can feel his temperatures rising and his reactor humming in his head. At least Thor's there. Not that it matters. Tony is still a squishy human like this.
"You wanna swing at me, Cap? Go ahead!" There's a flash of the thrill seeker in his dark eyes.
And that... That is not helpful. Not at all.
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Tony gently pats Thor on the upper arm as he passes and picks up another drink. "Damage control. Get him home, Thunder Lungs."
"I do not see how my lungs--"
Tony's just going to ignore that. He'll mingle. And in two hours he'll go home to apologize for letting things get out of hand. If he's not drunk off his ass.
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