Steve was trying to get though the party in one piece. He was here networking by the prompting of an old friend. He wanted desperately to decline but he knew how important contacts were for freelance artists.
Some would scoff at him, that he should think he could aim for such a career with the financial climate being what it was. It was hard to get anywhere if you had little money these days, let alone support yourself as an artist.
He was sick of working for the add companies, helping them force their products on folks who couldn't afford it. But as Bucky said, this was likely the only way for him to get out of the starting gates. Smooze a little with well known people.
Raised voices came from his left, he turned to look. Two guys were arguing over some dame's affections. Steve sighs and tries to tune it out. There was nothing you could do for it, no manner of persuasions he could give would be able to learn them otherwise. The commotion seems to have caught the attention of the doormen anyway.
Steve decides to leave, no one here were taking him seriously anyway. It was like they could smell his status on him, and they were only humouring him to find out how someone like him could get into such a gig. He looks around to find the door so he could make his exit.
The sound of flesh hitting flesh hard and a shill scream was the only warning he got. A heavy weight jolts him in the back causing him to topple. He reaches out his hands, hopping to grasp something to stop his fall. He manages a handhold of a rather firm and muscular shoulder.
It makes no difference. Instead he manages to bring them both down on the floor with him laying across the man's chest. He groans in pain, something round and hard in the man's suit jacket stabbing into his chest. What the hell was it anyway? A pocket watch? Who would carry around one that large though?
He rolls over onto his back and the man under him sits up a little. "Are you alright?" he hears him ask.
Steve looks at the man feels the colour leave his face as if a practically cold wind had blown right threw him. It was Adventure Tony Stark.
Steve knew he was staring awkwardly. This was worse than any worst case scenario he thought up for coming to tonight's party, he really should have just stayed at home. How did he not notice that Tony Stark was here in attendance? He swallows anxiously.
'Think quick' he tells himself. He tries to play it natural. He casually puts his arm behind his head, and clasped his right on the man's shoulder. He gives the man the most charming smile he can humanly muster in the situation, "So…uhh… hi…there"
He sees Stark's eyes widen in disbelief and curses himself mentally. 'What am I doing?' he cries silently. There is now clearly amusement on his non-consenting pillow's face. He feels his smile falter and it is only through strength of will that he keeps it plastered on his face. 'What am I doing? Get up! GET OFF HIM', but he seems stuck and unable to move.
"Tony, you alright?" Someone else says from behind. Steve cranes his next to see James Rhodes. 'Oh, I am dead. This is not happening. This is some horrible fever dream.'
To Steve's surprise Rhodes extends his hand out to him. He grasps it and lets him lift him up of Stark. As Rhodes turns to lift Stark up of the floor he busies himself cleaning the much from the floor off his suit. The blood is defiantly back up in his face, he knows he has to be blushing with how hot his face feels.
"I'm so sorry, Mr Stark. I didn't mean-" Stark cuts him off with a short wave of his hand.
"Don't worry, I know it was an accident. No harm done." The man assures him and Steve breathes a sigh of relief.
Stark looks down at the floor with a frown, something catching his eye. Steve looks down to see what he was looking at to see his business cards all over the floor. Stark bends down to pick them up and he feels a wave of panic hit him. "Oh, you don't- … Don't have to…"
"You're an artist?" Stark questions him looking at his details. Steve nods in answer. "You any good?"
"Ahhh, well… I uhh… went to art collage." Steve stammers nervously.
Stark looks up at him appraisingly. "Do you have samples with you?"
"No, sorry. I can't really afford prints"
A moment of silence passes between them and Steve cannot help but wonder what Stark is thinking. If he put him off possibly commissioning him.
"I have been looking to get some portraits done. Maybe I could swing by your studio?"
"Yeah, Sure! Absolutely", Maybe this party was not such a bad idea after all.
THE END
NOTES: For the Cap-IronMan Tiny Reverse Bang/ Code Name: Winghead
Inspired by Fluffypanda's Artwork "Barefoot [ART]"