Tony Stark's idea of a tasteful Christmas present was an obscenely large, custom-made bunny rabbit with arms that looked like boobs.
Pepper Potts reminded herself of this, breathing deeply. Why had she imagined that any of his gifts would be subtle or tasteful? When he had told her, two weeks ago, that he was embarking on creating the world's greatest birthday present for Steve, she was honestly just relieved that he was keeping busy. She had been in Moscow for two weeks, embroiled in company politics, and he had been markedly more stir-crazy than usual since Bruce had disappeared. He needed something to take his time. How much damage could he possibly cause in two weeks?
Now, as she walked into the warehouse-turned-ballroom Tony had made over for the birthday party, she realized the magnitude of her mistake.
Tony had thrown Steve a birthday party straight out of the 1940s. The food and drinks, the light fixtures and band, even the tacky red-white-and-blue decorations on the walls were historically accurate. A catering staff bustled around in full costume and hundreds of thousands of dollars' worth of period clothes hung on a rack in the corner, hand-made and custom tailored to every arriving guest.
"Tony…" she breathed, clutching his arm as she looked in wonder around the anachronistic ballroom. "Tony, this is…"
"Amazing. Beautiful. A killer nomination for 'friend of the year' award?" he deadpanned, following her eyes to the rack of clothes. "If you like this, wait 'til you see your dress! Or, even better, wait 'til I see you in your dress."
She leaned her face closer to his ear as a waiter passed by. "Tony, this is inappropriate!"
He turned and looked at her and something in his face deflated, growing still. Her stomach twisted, but she had to continue. "I mean, Steve has lost all of this. This was his world and he lost it, this is going to be a shock to him, it's not appropriate to-"
"A shock!" he agreed, his face lighting up again boyishly. "That's what surprise parties are for! Trust me honey, he may need a minute to adjust, but this will be the best night of his life! His best friend is home, it's the most patriotic day of the year, and he gets a Stark party just for him!" A server came up, insistent, and Tony dropped a cheerful kiss on Pepper's cheek. "Trust me," he chirped, and sped off.
"Bucky," Pepper sighed, remembering. She sat down abruptly on a hand-made, wooden chair. Bucky was just another reason why this whole thing was out of line. What would it be like for him to see this? She knew what Steve wanted, what he had sought ever since his best friend's return. He wanted quiet, safety, and time alone with his friend while he rehabilitated. It had been difficult enough for Tony to convince the two of them to come out tonight "for a few hours" and now they were going to be thrown into this.
How could she ever have underestimated how much her genius boyfriend could accomplish in two weeks?
Natasha appeared behind her, leaning against the wall, pulling on a red curl and surveying the room with a suspicious familiarity. One arm draped around her waist, belting a 1940's style emerald green dress with a low-cut halter top and a full skirt for dancing. She looked just as comfortable and relaxed in this getup as she had in any of the many other costumes/outfits Pepper had seen her in over the years. Natasha's skin seemed to exist in a liquid state, taking on the shape of whatever container she poured herself into.
"Tony Stark has no subtlety," Nat commented, rubbing one black dancing shoe on the ground. "When he loves something, he just explodes his heart all over it, doesn't he?"
Pepper sighed and came to lean against the wall next to the superspy. "I need to get changed if people are already arriving," she eyed the room one last time. "I just don't want Steve to completely panic."
Nat smiled at her, her green eyes set like jewels by the dress and a smoky eye that could almost make Pepper jealous. "This is hardly the most unsettling thing the old man has seen since he fell out of the sky," she commented. "It's Barnes he'll be worried about."
Barnes. There it was again. Pepper scowled at herself in a dressing room mirror. Tony had set up six of these identical rooms lining the hallway from the entry to the ballroom so every guest could be properly outfitted before entering. It was also historically accurate, of course. She shimmied into a rich blue dress and shooed away a stylist who was showing her pictures of period hairstyles that could be accomplished in fifteen minutes or less.
Thoughtfully, Pepper pinned up her own hair and slipped on a pair of silver shoes, wondering when Tony had first learned all of her sizes, and how he had obtained everyone else's.
Bucky. She still hadn't met him yet, properly. She had seen photos and video at the Smithsonian. He and Steve had been the perfect pair of blond/brunette heartbreakers, but even in his smiles, she saw a ferocity that aligned more with his assassin years than with Steve's childhood best friend. This was the sort of man who would survive against all odds. At least, so they hoped.
The stylist had appeared again with a tray of darker lipsticks than the shades to which she was used and this time she smiled at the girl and selected one.
Steve had kept Bucky very close since he had gotten him back, squirreled him away quietly, fighting off the shrinks tooth and nail. This would be Barnes' first time out in public and they were expecting a quiet dinner. She wondered how quickly the fragile mind might break. No matter how stubborn he had seemed to be back then, how kind and brave and bold, as Steve so often described him, he could hardly help but be glass-like now. A big-band Stark party, full of the world's most powerful and charismatic people, with him as the sole stranger in their midst, as well as an extremely recent threat… it could not end well. A quick mental slide-show showed her several equally plausible outcomes of the evening. One where the man flipped out and began attacking all of his former enemies, Thor pinning him to a wall and bellowing, another version where he broke down and wept upon entering the room so like his former life. And another version where he simply dissolved, disappeared during the evening, never to be found again.
Pepper glanced hastily in the mirror and slid from the room.
Thor was stepping out of another dressing room as she vacated hers, and he descending on her with a loud, affectionate greeting. "And here is the lady of the evening!" He exclaimed, bending over her hand. He looked actually breathtaking in a throwback tuxedo, his long hair swept back. Jane slipped out behind him and the two women flew to each other affectionately.
"Are we sure this is a good idea?" Jane murmured in her ear as they hugged.
"It's far too late now!" Pepper said cheerfully, finding herself actually relieved at the realization. "And congratulations!" she exclaimed aloud as they stepped back.
"Congratulations for which honor?" Thor inquired triumphantly, while Jane jabbed him painlessly in the ribs.
"For whichever prize or medal or award is the most recent," Pepper beamed.
"Let's get this party started!" Clint shouted hoarsely from behind them in a passable frat boy imitation, barreling through the entrance in jeans and a button-down.
The next fifteen minutes were spent trying to convince him that he needed to change before entering the party, and the next fifteen after that to get him out of the dressing rooms and to stop harassing the stylist about his hair. Pepper stepped instantly into her hostess role and everything quickly became a blur. Nothing was quite as smothering as an Avengers party with so many big personalities darting everywhere: trying to get Scott comfortable, helping Vision and Wanda to find each other since neither was fully comfortable alone, encouraging Clint and Sam to stop bounding around in relentless excitement while flipping up to the light fixtures and tasting everything in the bar and the kitchen. Speaking with the caterers, answering the band, answering the stylists.
Steve was late. Everyone else stood, groomed and period-ready: Jane and Thor looking regal, Clint and Sam whispering to each other like little kids, Vision and Wanda slightly huddled together, Bruce Banner still conspicuously absent, Scott pulling awkwardly at his clothes and side-eyeing Natasha who stood by the door, the only one who at least looked fully at ease.
There were others there too, of course, mostly older friends like Lady Sif and Darcy, and several SHIELD agents for both friendship and security. Everyone looked amazing in the dim light, even Vision who looked other-worldly in context, like a time-traveling alien (Clint had whispered something to Natasha that included the word "Terminator" and was quickly encouraged not to speak again). There was tension among a select few in the group. Most of them, like Jane, had voiced their concerns in an undertone to Pepper and she had tried to put them as ease, but the anxiety grew as Steve and Bucky were still absent.
Pepper stood next to Tony, the true power couple, poised and confident outside, but her coiffed head buzzed with concern. What if Barnes had a panic attack? What if Steve had caught wind of what was coming? What if there had been an accident?
"Hush!" Tony shouted into the dead silence of the group as the whispering hum of a car, part of the Stark Armada, pulled up outside. Pepper experienced a moment of overwhelming doubt, along with some excitement at finally laying eyes on the famous James Buchanan Barnes. She took a short pull on her champagne flute and put it down.
They all heard voices outside the door, and then Steve's, strong and clear, speaking to the chauffeur.
"Just through the door, sir, you'll find him," the boy replied, sounding squeaky and terrified, like most civilians did around the Captain.
"Thank you, son." The man replied, and he seemed to offer money because the boy exclaimed, "Oh no, sir, thank you, sir!" And then the car started up again, too quickly, and drove off, too fast.
There was a conversational undertone of voices outside and the outer door opened. Well, he speaks at least. Pepper considered, taking Tony's hand.
The shuffling footsteps paused behind the second door, "What's this?"
It must have been Bucky's voice, and it sounded stronger and younger than she would have expected. Suddenly, her fear of him evaporated. This was no ghost, no frigid soldier of darkness and death and winter. This was a young man, Steve's age, a soldier of the Golden Generation who had suffered… what exactly had he suffered? This was a mistake…
Steve's strong laugh rang out quietly. "Oh no, brace yourself. It's what I thought, Tony's - " and his voice dropped below audibility.
The second door was pushed in suddenly from the outside and the band struck up a loud, celebratory sound. Everyone shouted, lifting champagne flutes, and confetti scattered down over their newly styled heads.
Steve and Bucky stopped dead in the doorway, Bucky springing back slightly from the blast of sound in a way most inhabitants of the room recognized from personal experience. Steve's back went rigid, staring at Tony, and he immediately turned to his friend, as a flood of people pushed forward to shake his hand and welcome him in. Bucky turned to him and gave him the tiniest smile, standing back stiffly in parade rest, and Pepper realized she had stopped breathing when she began to breathe again.
The flood poured over Steve, people calling out different names ("Cap! Steve! Rogers!") as they seized his hand, showed off their outfits, or pulled him in to pound him on the back. Bucky was the rock they ebbed around, everyone giving him an overly cautious berth, and somehow it was Pepper who saved him. Seizing a fresh drink, she pushed easily towards him, locking eyes with him from a sufficient distance to telegraph her approach. Despite his easy stance, his eyes were very wide and his breath sagged low in his lungs as he stood and she let herself stand close to him, an offered anchor.
"Do you drink?" she called, over the noise.
He seemed to hesitate, and she wondered suddenly if he knew. "Yes ma'am," he replied quietly.
Her face gentled again and she smiled at him, a born hostess, "I'm Pepper Potts, Tony's – girlfriend, babysitter, mediator – depends on the day. I'm afraid I have to recommend the champagne as the only way to endure the chaos of a Stark party."
Before he knew what was happening, the drink was in his hand and he was being whisked away, spun neatly into a corner, and deposited in a comfortable chair. He blinked up at the redhead and she suddenly decided her best approach was absolute honesty.
"I hope you don't consider this to be insensitive. Tony has yet to master the gift of subtlety."
"I'd gathered that," the man replied, his eyes roaming restlessly around the room, "from the bright red suit."
