The Cosmopolitan was a gleaming building of Neo Art Deco design discreetly situated in downtown Manhattan amid the other towering structures housing multi-national corporations and businesses. Steve was pleased to see that it had flair without flash; no neon signs or sidewalk chalkboards advertising drink specials no—just a long canopy of green and silver silk and a doorman in front of the glass entrance. He breathed a small sigh of relief and looked at the other men in the limo.
"Looks nice," he ventured.
"It IS nice," Tony replied cheerfully. "Pepper wrangled their biggest room at the last minute, so if you see any sulking businessmen it's because they got downgraded to the kiddie table."
"That was mean," Bruce murmured.
"That was the first lesson in business," Tony countered. "Never try to out-negotiate Pepper Potts. She will not only yank the rug out right under you, but will also have one of those Acme Corporation portable holes as well and you'll be falling past panoramic southwestern mesas before you know it."
Thor laughed uproariously. "I have seen this! The scrawny wolf and the long-legged fowl and their endless competition! Very amusing, the legend, yes!"
Steve grinned along with the rest of the men at that.
"So who do you root for—Wiley Coyote or the Roadrunner?" Hawkeye asked as they climbed out of the limo and onto the sidewalk. The soft gleam of fading sunset tinted the buildings in mauve, and twinkling gleams from taxis and cars sparkled in the oncoming dark.
"The wolf of course. He reminds me of my brother in many ways," Thor cheerfully replied as he helped Joe out onto the sidewalk. "Loki too, is determined and ruthless. And also very underfed."
"Plus he's never going to win," Hawkeye added.
"Enough about that loser," Tony rolled his eyes. "Gentlemen, we have arrived! Steve, you're the man of the hour, so come on this way—Joe, would you like a hand?"
"I'm good," Joe grinned. He was up to a cane now and looking much better these days. Steve shifted to stand next to him, and Joe pushed his glasses up, looking towards the doorman. "La-di-dah! Lead on, Steve."
Taking a deep breath, Steve strode forward, allowing the doorman to pull open the glass door. The other six trailed in after him into the glamorous foyer. It looked much more like the lobby of a theater, plush with thick carpet, and an open two-story ceiling space where a futuristic chandelier hung.
A thin older woman with spiky hair in a startling shade of purple came forward and gave them a shark smile of toothy amusement. "So! This must be the Stark Party!"
"Actually it's the Rogers party," Tony corrected her. She boosted the wattage on her grimace and nodded, eyes sweeping over the group.
"Yes of course! I'm Ingrid your co-coordinator here to make sure everything is to your satisfaction. Right this way, gentlemen, your deluxe accommodations await!" She spun on her spike heel and stalked off, hard little behind bouncing.
They moved forward; Thor rumbled. "I did not know goblins had bred here in Midgard."
"I think it's just the hair dye," Hawkeye reassured him. "Although she does look a bit like a pissed . . . Norfin."
"She looks like she could break your arm if you pissed her off," Joe added. "I'm betting she was a bouncer in her early days."
"Hey, hey we're talking about a lady here," Steve objected. "I think."
That made even Tony snort a laugh as they all made their way down a glass staircase, aware of music rising up from the depths. Steve tried not to gawk, but the opulent atmosphere was a little intimidating, as was Ingrid. Still, there were lovely smells drifting from the kitchen, and nothing embarrassing had happened so far.
"We could take the elevator," Steve murmured to Joe, who shook his head.
"Therapist wants me walking. Tell you what—I'll take 'em down and I'll ride back up when we're done," came the offer. "That way we can tell Lauren I didn't strain myself."
"Fair enough," Steve agreed, feeling it was a good compromise. He'd introduced both Joe and Binh to the rest of the team, and he was proud that everyone was getting along well. It was clear that Joe knew perfectly well who most everyone was, and if Binh knew he wasn't saying, content to watch and grin.
Downstairs was another foyer, this one a hall of mirrors, and at either end were double doors of carved wood. One set of doors stood open invitingly, and through them drifted the music. The other set were ajar with a hastily tacked note reading: Ingersoll Group Dinner.
"I think we now know who got bumped," Tony murmured unsympathetically. "Tough beans, Ingersollers. This way, mes amis!"
The main room was cavernous, with a full bar set into an alcove at the back, and a rounded table booth across from it that looked like the setting for the Last Supper painting. Steve noted that the central floor area was hardwood, and small circular inlays hinted where the dancer's poles would rise up.
He sighed and allowed Tony to herd them forward to the long table, everyone chattering and enthusiastic. A pair of ultra-gorgeous cocktail waitresses glided up in a matched set, one dressed as an angel, the other a devil, both of them in scraps of Spandex that strained to hold back cleavage.
"Hi boys, can I tempt you with anything?" the devil asked naughtily.
"Yes," Hawkeye informed her without a moment's hesitation. "Oh God yes."
"Seconded," Bruce grinned sheepishly.
Not to be outdone, the angel leaned forward, giving everyone the full benefit of her décolletage. "How about me?"
"Valkyrie, you are lovely," Thor assured her. "You may sweep me to Valhalla anytime."
This made her giggle, which did interesting things to the spandex. Steve heard Joe give a low snort.
"Me, I was always told to side with the angels," he told her.
"Good advice," she winked back. "What can I bring for you gentlemen?"
Angel and Devil took the drink orders, and Steve went red when both of them cooed over him as the man of the hour, leaning in to plant kisses on his cheeks.
"Don't be good tonight," Devil purred.
"Look at him," Angel giggled, "He couldn't be bad if he tried!"
"I could," Hawkeye offered. "I'm very good at being bad. I've got references."
"I've got documentaries," Tony scoffed. "Whole exposés."
"Nobody wants to see you expose anything," Bruce sighed. "Especially us."
"Seconded," Steve sighed, wiping his hot cheeks and grinning just the same.
As the cocktail waitresses sauntered away, Ingrid swooped in, followed by a man in a chef's uniform. She smiled her sharky grin once more and zeroed in on Steve. "Ah! Things going well so far?"
"Great," Steve assured her lightly.
"Good! Chef Rene here is going to be in charge of your dinner. Now I'm given to understand that meat is the order of the night so we're starting you off with bacon puffs and shredded beef canapés, then onto standing rib roast and later, cake."
"Beef cake?" Thor wanted to know. The other Avengers snickered.
"God I hope not, on any level," Bruce muttered.
Ingrid managed a rictus. "A special cake," she sighed. "Rather traditional for a bachelor party, if you get my drift."
Steve tried not to blush again. "Lord," he muttered, but Tony laughed. Ingrid and Chef Rene gave a nod and slipped away just as the drinks arrived for everyone.
Tony sipped his appreciatively and added, "Now it's a party, Rodgers. Speaking of which kiddies, we also have games to play."
"Shit," Hawkeye rolled his eyes. "Beer pong? Bombadier?"
"Please," Tony scoffed, "We're men with special skills. May I direct your attention thus . . ." He waved hand and Devil came forward, rolling what looked to be a tall form on wheels covered with a drape. She set it fifteen feet in front of the table, and then tugged the drape off with a flourish, revealing a department store manikin covered in sheer balloons.
It took a moment for Steve to realize that the balloons were in fact inflated condoms, that the manikin was that of a naked woman with a long blonde wig, and that someone had taken the time to insure the rest of her was . . . natural-looking as well.
Thor laughed. "What jest is this?"
"Target practice," Tony assured him, and held up a handful of red, heart dappled darts. "One for each of us this round. But the handicap is . . ." he held out the other hand, revealing the blindfold. "We'll see who can zero in on female anatomy best. All right Steve, give it your best shot."
Steve shot Tony a murderous look that dissolved as everyone at the table laughed. He sighed, letting Tony tie the blindfold on him, feeling both embarrassed and amused to be embarrassed.
"Come on Cap; playing Cupid's easy," Hawkeye asserted.
"Barton, you're getting an extra handicap when it's your turn," Tony assured him.
"Bring it on."
"Shhh," Thor chided, "We must be silent for the competition!"
Steve stood, hefting the single dart in his hand, thinking hard for a moment. He drew a breath, cocked his hand and tossed, gratified to hear a 'pop' a second later, followed by a roar of approval. As he tugged the blindfold off, he noted that his dart was buried right in the manikin's belly button, the shreds of a broken condom around it.
"So close!" Tony mock-sympathized. "I really think you need to lower your sights, Cap."
Steve snorted. "It's called foreplay, Stark."
Another roar of approval came from the table, and Steve accepted the pats on the back, feeling that perhaps it might be a fun evening after all.