At the wheel, as he speeds down streets and takes corners sharply Tony feels more in control, something that felt like it had been swiped from him touch after touch. He puts up with a lot, more than he would like. But he really doesn't like being approached. It had started a while ago. A long time ago. But he gets through events by telling himself he's used to it. By cringing away from touches and standing tall, shoulders back and putting on a good mask. The mask is still what he's best at.
So he feels a little frazzled, and maybe that's why he's out to cause a problem. Make a scene, as he'd said. Because he bets Steve is just there in that room full of people sipping away his autonomy touch by touch and he's not doing much about it. He's probably taking it. Because they're in polite society with deep pockets.
Well. Tony really doesn't like the idea of that. And he won't have it.
Outside the venue entrance people are still milling about even in the chilly weather because there are always people outside events like these. If not starry-eyed onlookers, then it's the press. Who immediately turn their attention to the roar of his engine as he comes in. His cars are easy to identify, license place of this one Stark4. He comes to a halt right in front of the valet, getting out of the car while shutters start flickering brightly and people call for his attention, tossing his keys to the kid at the stand. "You can take her to the garage but I'll be back soon." He's not sure yet if he plans on staying long with Steve, just long enough to leave an impression.
Up the carpeted stairs set out to look like a runway, he struts with his usual sense of purpose. He's not running to Steve but he is in a hurry. He also wasn't invited to this particular event, or maybe he turned down their RSVP, or- who even knows. He doesn't really handle that sort of thing himself anymore because if he did he'd never go to any of them. Whatever his invitational status, the security at the door take one look at him and open the doors right up. It's a few paces from the main hall to the party room, and already he feels he has a handle on things.
Right until he catches the sight of someone perched at Steve's side, arms practically wrapped around his like she might drag him upstairs to a bedroom in just another moment. Again there's this dark streak of something. It's not jealousy, he tells himself. It's- ...offense, which surely it is. On Steve's behalf, of course. And there are others, he sees them in the few seconds as the front of the room turns their attention and the usual squealing gatherers start rounding up to him. There are other people vying for Steve's attention in that small circle, reaching out to pet at him like he's some well trained zoo animal on loan.
He raises his voice to answer people's ecstatic greetings, but it's not shouting, it's just projecting. He takes command of the room because it's his now. He's here and he could buy this entire building right now if he wanted and order everyone out of it. But that's dramatic and he's a little more clever than that.
It takes a few more measly moments to part the sea that's formed around him as he steps forward, piercing the tight social bubble of the small crowd in the center of the room. The hostess says his name like she knows him and she very well might but he has no recollection. And then she takes stock of what's happening. Tony Stark has just stormed into her party and made a beeline towards the only other Avenger in the immediate vicinity so she has the good grace, after her cutesy greeting, to ask, "Is there... trouble?"
But there's something nonchalant and indignant about it. Like there shouldn't be. Not when she's having a good time. And if she has to suffer having her star player taken from her she might not be very happy about it.
Unfortunately for her, Tony's a bigger brat by far. With a staggering amount of crisp charm backed with one of those sharp grins he simply says, "We'll see, won't we." Which is a threat. Everyone hears it like one. This will be gossip come tomorrow. But. Well. Tony did say he was out to make a scene. Which is why he's not done yet, as he arches a brow and dresses her down just a few more rungs. "Would you mind taking your hands off my merchandise? You hang on any tighter and he might lose circulation." There's a quiet few snorts behind suddenly upturned hands. Never mind that Tony said my. He didn't hear it.
She lets go, flushing in embarrassment, or maybe it's anger. It's hard for Tony to differentiate at this stage and in the next few seconds it won't matter at all. "Well, if you-"
And that's really it. Instead he puts a hand at the small of Steve's back, attention focused solely on him like all the other people in the room had suddenly dissolved. It's a quick touch, one and done, returning his hands to his pockets immediately after. His head nods towards the bar, "Get a drink with me. I wanna talk to you before we leave." It's not a request, and the grin he aims Steve's way is far softer than the one he stormed in with. It also further separates the two of them from the bodies around them, he and Steve belong to themselves now and they won't be bothered. They'll also be leaving soon.
no subject
So he feels a little frazzled, and maybe that's why he's out to cause a problem. Make a scene, as he'd said. Because he bets Steve is just there in that room full of people sipping away his autonomy touch by touch and he's not doing much about it. He's probably taking it. Because they're in polite society with deep pockets.
Well. Tony really doesn't like the idea of that. And he won't have it.
Outside the venue entrance people are still milling about even in the chilly weather because there are always people outside events like these. If not starry-eyed onlookers, then it's the press. Who immediately turn their attention to the roar of his engine as he comes in. His cars are easy to identify, license place of this one Stark4. He comes to a halt right in front of the valet, getting out of the car while shutters start flickering brightly and people call for his attention, tossing his keys to the kid at the stand. "You can take her to the garage but I'll be back soon." He's not sure yet if he plans on staying long with Steve, just long enough to leave an impression.
Up the carpeted stairs set out to look like a runway, he struts with his usual sense of purpose. He's not running to Steve but he is in a hurry. He also wasn't invited to this particular event, or maybe he turned down their RSVP, or- who even knows. He doesn't really handle that sort of thing himself anymore because if he did he'd never go to any of them. Whatever his invitational status, the security at the door take one look at him and open the doors right up. It's a few paces from the main hall to the party room, and already he feels he has a handle on things.
Right until he catches the sight of someone perched at Steve's side, arms practically wrapped around his like she might drag him upstairs to a bedroom in just another moment. Again there's this dark streak of something. It's not jealousy, he tells himself. It's- ...offense, which surely it is. On Steve's behalf, of course. And there are others, he sees them in the few seconds as the front of the room turns their attention and the usual squealing gatherers start rounding up to him. There are other people vying for Steve's attention in that small circle, reaching out to pet at him like he's some well trained zoo animal on loan.
He raises his voice to answer people's ecstatic greetings, but it's not shouting, it's just projecting. He takes command of the room because it's his now. He's here and he could buy this entire building right now if he wanted and order everyone out of it. But that's dramatic and he's a little more clever than that.
It takes a few more measly moments to part the sea that's formed around him as he steps forward, piercing the tight social bubble of the small crowd in the center of the room. The hostess says his name like she knows him and she very well might but he has no recollection. And then she takes stock of what's happening. Tony Stark has just stormed into her party and made a beeline towards the only other Avenger in the immediate vicinity so she has the good grace, after her cutesy greeting, to ask, "Is there... trouble?"
But there's something nonchalant and indignant about it. Like there shouldn't be. Not when she's having a good time. And if she has to suffer having her star player taken from her she might not be very happy about it.
Unfortunately for her, Tony's a bigger brat by far. With a staggering amount of crisp charm backed with one of those sharp grins he simply says, "We'll see, won't we." Which is a threat. Everyone hears it like one. This will be gossip come tomorrow. But. Well. Tony did say he was out to make a scene. Which is why he's not done yet, as he arches a brow and dresses her down just a few more rungs. "Would you mind taking your hands off my merchandise? You hang on any tighter and he might lose circulation." There's a quiet few snorts behind suddenly upturned hands. Never mind that Tony said my. He didn't hear it.
She lets go, flushing in embarrassment, or maybe it's anger. It's hard for Tony to differentiate at this stage and in the next few seconds it won't matter at all. "Well, if you-"
And that's really it. Instead he puts a hand at the small of Steve's back, attention focused solely on him like all the other people in the room had suddenly dissolved. It's a quick touch, one and done, returning his hands to his pockets immediately after. His head nods towards the bar, "Get a drink with me. I wanna talk to you before we leave." It's not a request, and the grin he aims Steve's way is far softer than the one he stormed in with. It also further separates the two of them from the bodies around them, he and Steve belong to themselves now and they won't be bothered. They'll also be leaving soon.
Because that's what Tony Stark says.