Certainly someone in PR is getting fired but that's a problem for tomorrow. His problem right now is excusing himself from the goodwill holiday party he doesn't really remember agreeing to go to- which he was going to do anyway- and getting in his car. He's had a glass of scotch. Maybe two. Still confident enough to drive. But that might account for why he's making such a big fuss about this. Steve's a big boy, he can handle himself. But he shouldn't have to.
Pepper will give him flak later, he knows, for the way he unceremoniously drops his glass down on the bar and then checks his watch like he has anywhere else to be. He's actually calculating the time it's going to take him to get from one event to the other. She's probably also already mad that he was texting most of the evening. Again. Tomorrow problems.
FRIDAY has already served him up Steve's location, not that it's a secret. There are about a hundred socialite twitter posts dripping with glee that Captain America is at the party they're at and what a hunk of meat he is. People have no shame anymore. And that's coming from someone who was practically born without any sense of the word.
He's out the door in the next ten minutes after excusing himself from a crowd that started to gather, mostly because these people have the sense for when Tony Stark is about to serve a standard Irish goodbye and they're trained to try and stop it. But they can't. It's inevitable, like it always is. Once Tony makes up his mind it's over.
Steve gets a text another five minutes after that which will have been fifteen minutes of lapsed silence, but he's safely behind the wheel of his car now and feeling a little more in control.
On my way to you. Post up somewhere visible.
If for no other reason that he's going to make an example out of someone tonight. Steve doesn't belong to him but he doesn't belong to the world at large, either. And certainly not to handsy trustfund babies and trophy wives. The fact that there's a rather large possessive river running through him is thoroughly ignored. It's not about that and probably never will be. It's about the principle of the thing. And nothing else.
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Saving the Night - For NotMyFuture
Pepper will give him flak later, he knows, for the way he unceremoniously drops his glass down on the bar and then checks his watch like he has anywhere else to be. He's actually calculating the time it's going to take him to get from one event to the other. She's probably also already mad that he was texting most of the evening. Again. Tomorrow problems.
FRIDAY has already served him up Steve's location, not that it's a secret. There are about a hundred socialite twitter posts dripping with glee that Captain America is at the party they're at and what a hunk of meat he is. People have no shame anymore. And that's coming from someone who was practically born without any sense of the word.
He's out the door in the next ten minutes after excusing himself from a crowd that started to gather, mostly because these people have the sense for when Tony Stark is about to serve a standard Irish goodbye and they're trained to try and stop it. But they can't. It's inevitable, like it always is. Once Tony makes up his mind it's over.
Steve gets a text another five minutes after that which will have been fifteen minutes of lapsed silence, but he's safely behind the wheel of his car now and feeling a little more in control.
On my way to you. Post up somewhere visible.
If for no other reason that he's going to make an example out of someone tonight. Steve doesn't belong to him but he doesn't belong to the world at large, either. And certainly not to handsy trustfund babies and trophy wives. The fact that there's a rather large possessive river running through him is thoroughly ignored. It's not about that and probably never will be. It's about the principle of the thing. And nothing else.
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Sorry this took forever!