Drinking Age

I sat at Tony's island bar, a liquor glass filled with ice cubes and a depleting supply of water within inches of my reach. I'm not huge on drinking; legally, I shouldn't be. I hadn't been looking to drink any problems away to begin with. It just so happened that I was looking to quench my thirst, and Tony only had liquor glasses (trust me, I spent a decent amount of time looking...).

As if merely thinking his name could conjure him up, Tony swooped in, just as I was setting my now empty glass on the island counter. The genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist beamed at me cheekily from his new spot behind the granite counter; directly across from me. His tousled black hair aroused some thoughts that I was starting to wish I didn't have access to; the gutter was really the only place for them.

He gave one, nearly fleeting glance down at my empty glass. Apparently, it was worth recognition with the accompaniment of one of Tony's signature looks: the half scowl, half pout. Tony tries this look on everyone too often when he's displeased, but it amuses me, because it usually means some "Stark Logic" - as Pepper and I like to call it - is just around the metaphorical corner.

"Excuse me," Tony lifted the crystal cup by his thumb and ring finger, rattling the ice back and forth. "what is this?"

"What?" My face couldn't help but contort into a mix of confusion and amusement - what Tony likes to call "confusment" - as he continued to glare at me as if I had been caught drawing on the walls with Crayola markers. "It was just water."

"That's the problem!" Tony put the glass down so hastily I was afraid it was going to shatter. I winced as the fine crystal met the smooth granite countertop, leaning back out of anticipation of projectile glass shards.

Tony began fingering through his many, many, many alcoholic options, beginning to hum "Uptown Funk" as he made his selection. Surprisingly, he stayed on tune...for the most part.

After a selection had been made, Tony brought the oddly-shaped, clear bottle to his lips, sticking the glass cap between his teeth gingerly as he pulled it off and spit it out into his free hand, pouring the undoubtedly expensive beverage into my watered down glass.

"Fill my cup, put some liquor in it~!" He sang, more to himself as he continued on his merry way. I finally decided that this problem wasn't going to become self-aware in order to solve itself. I was going to have to speak up.

"Tony!" He immediately paused, looking up from the rich, hazel-colored liquid that was still tearing from the clear bottle until he tipped it up to place the cap back on. After accomplishing his task, the raven-haired man only returned my outburst with a blank, purely clueless stare.

"What?"

"I'm not drinking that."

"Why not?"

"I can't!"

"Why not?"

"I'm seventeen!"

"Pfffft..." Tony placed the bottle amongst his extensive collection, completely brushing off my comment like hate mail (even though I seriously doubt he has a ton of that to deal with). "At Club Stark, the drinking age is consent."

My eyebrows furrowed, my mouth slightly agape with disgust as my eyes habitually narrowed with disapproval.

"What?" Tony asked, sounding as if slightly offended. I swear, half of Tony's vocabulary is just "what" due to how much he has to answer for his morally poor suggestions. Not to say he's illiterate or anything...that would just be an understatement.

Kidding. He does basically all of my calculus and chemistry homework.

"You're disgusting...and ignorant."

"And you're gonna have to throw your own birthday party with an attitude like that." He lifted the glass to his lips, tossing his head back in order to down the entirety of the its liquid contents in a single swig before placing it back on the counter again. "I mean, good luck finding a better host than yours truly, kiddo." Tony stepped down from the island platform, giving me a backwards wave, as if I wasn't worth his attention or the time it would have taken him to face me in order to wave like a proper person should; although, this is Tony Stark we're talking about..."proper" isn't exactly a part of the same equation. Ever.

I laughed so dryly in response that I started to actually consider Tony's previous offer of a drink. I rotated the leather seat I was, at the moment, still sitting on, hopped off and began to follow him.

"What a drama queen!"

"Takes one to know one."

"Oh, good! You do have friends! I was honestly beginning to worry!"

"You little - "

"Eh!" I pulled up in front of him, stopping the both of us in front of the elevator. I quirked my lips slightly, glaring teasingly at him as my back faced the opening doors of the newly arrived cubicle on cables. "Language."

"You hang out with Cap too much."

"I hang out with you too much!" I slipped onto the elevator, pressing the button that would lead me to my desired destination, giving Tony a farewell wink as the doors slid shut. "Grab the next one, would you?" I wiggled my fingers with a small triumphant smirk as I watched Tony until the doors closed completely.

"Have fun, Tony Stark."

"JARVIS," Tony smirked, his hands shoved deep into his dark, jean pockets as he stared at the elevator doors. "Have fun with her; I'm taking the suit."