revivalproject | Every hero movie needs a party

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Every hero movie needs a party

WHO: Anyone and everyone
WHERE: Some Ballroom
WHAT: PARTAY! AKA the Fundraiser Padme is throwing to raise money for Tony's philanthropic oopsie
WHEN: mid-April
WARNINGS: Nothing in general. Potential for villain violence.

((ooc: This is a general mingle post. Go forth and do whatever you want! I've set the scene for the party but what you do in it is up to you! Want to party and schmooze with some rich folks? Go for it! Want to be a bad guy and try to steal shit from under said rich people's noses? Fabulous! Want to be a hero and stop said bad guys. Awesome! Want to brood and sulk like the dark angsty DC character you've always wanted to be? You do you, boo. Go forth and have fun!))

Maybe you're well to do in the city. Maybe you just know a guy who knows a guy. Or maybe you just have the right connections and heard it through the grapevine. One way or another, you've heard about the party of the month. Padme Naberrie Amidala, on behalf of the Stark Industries Board of Directors, has planned the finest fundraising event of her career to help pay for the new wing on the children's hospital... And maybe some starving children Tony wants to save.

Arrival

The entrance sets the stage for the whole event. Lit posts leading up to a wide circular doorway. The red carpet from the sidewalk is lined with paparazzi looking to snap some primo pictures of the attendees. Pose for the cameras, mingle, or just grab a drink from one of the waitstaff as you head inside.

Dinner is Served

The tables are set with fine place settings and beautiful center pieces. Most of the room is decked out in black and white, so as to not draw attention to the lovely colored gowns worn by many of the attendees. The gourmet meal has several options to satisfy everyone. The deserts are even more elaborate. Grab a bite and socialize. Or steal a seat or a plate when no one's looking. I'm not the boss of you.

Time to Socialize

There might not be a formal dance floor but the string quintet is playing some lovely music while the guests mingle. Now's the time to grab a glass of champagne or something from the bar. Snag some fancy looking hors d'oeuvres from a wandering server and spend time with your fellow citizens of this fine city.

Auction!

It is a fundraiser, after all. Aside from the cost to get in (unless you're a filthy freeloader who snuck in the back door), there is also a silent auction set up for attendees. But there are no gift baskets or wreathes in this auction. Nay, my friends. There is a reason there are guards at the door. This auction includes such things as Rolex watches, diamond necklaces, ski trips to the Andes and other fancy rich people things.

But the cherry on top is Tony Stark's contribution. A car that mysterious billionaire Din Djarin is rumored to have his eye on. The car has somehow been brought into the event and is on display for anyone to admire. But remember, that car did belong to Tony Stark, so none of you villains even think about trying to steal it!

The Bar

Every formal event has to have a bar for people tired of champagne or those who just want to be antisocial and run away for a while. Does this really need any more description than that?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Bucky's unfathomable well of self-deprecation was much easier to mine as Iron Man, but keeping his careful distance without the suit meant Tony could feel the regret the moment he sucked his teeth dubiously and heard himself saying, "I don't know if you could call it 'putting up with', you came to me..." Not that he expected Bucky to take the ribbing to heart, but the distance did feel cold and left Tony searching desperately for something to do with his hands in the torturous 30 seconds he didn't have a drink in them.

With Bucky taking up his post against the bar, Tony lingered in front of him, grounding himself with canted hips and the silk he still carried dangling then from his pocket where he tucked his hand, the other hovering readily over his heart where it drew a tight sketch as he spoke. "Look who's rich now, calling anyone else in this building old. Lay it on me then, give me your best line," he welcomed with an expectant smile for what he was sure to be some abysmal sucking up if it wasn't the fat wallet Bucky was after.

"Yeah, yeah." Bucky waved it off, rolling his eyes. "And here you are, suffering in my presence. Your charity contribution of the night, clearly."

Still, it beat most of the vapid conversation he'd had elsewhere this evening, which said a lot. Privately he wished there was some emergency that he could rush off to instead, but he supposed it would be considered a good thing if the city could have a night of quiet.

"You know my age doesn't count," he shot back, easily enough. Better to pretend it didn't bother him, those years lost to the ice. Better to pretend everything was just normal. Instead he cocked an eyebrow at Stark, took a long sip of his drink when it arrived. "Saint Tropez is definitely out," he said finally. "It's all nude beaches, and how could that compare to what you're offering?"

Edited 2021-05-24 01:06 (UTC)

That certainly sounded good at first blush, but for the best that Bucky could muster, Tony was mostly left baffled by what he was trying to say. After a slow nod with narrowed eyes like he was really trying to take it in and might come back with some helpful critique, Tony broke into a helpless chuckle and had to ask, "What?" Maybe he wasn't lubricated enough for this conversation, and dampened his laugh with a wink of thanks at the bartender for delivering on the generous pour, one finger stuck out from the glass to keep Bucky from trying to explain himself before Tony was ready.

"If that's how you've been flattering the old money, I'm really starting to see why you might be exhausted," he said. He closed his eyes, ear turned toward Captain America trying to flatter him through a naked buffet, really preparing for it as he prompted, "Walk me through it, break it down for me. It's not going to be weird, I promise."

Bucky doubted it was the lack of alcohol so much as the lack of inventiveness and wit on his own end. Sure he had a good start but it just petered completely out. Sue him; he knew he needed a break and it was no hardship to wait for Tony's drink and Tony's prompting, take a few minutes to force the tension out of his shoulders. Try to relax was always easier said than done.

"Honestly?" Bucky shook his head, laughing at himself when Tony prompted him. "I've got literally nothing right now, I'm all out. You're my break from having to be witty, charming, or flirty."

Unless Tony insisted, in which case he'd try. Though granted play flirting in Tony's general direction was probably easier than working the crowd.

Bucky didn't look all that relaxed for the insistence that Tony was his excuse to slack off, making Tony tilt his head slightly with the briefest narrowing of his eyes with the question that maybe Bucky didn't want him to ask. It could have just been difficult for him to find his footing here, and calling attention to it would only make it worse. Instead, Tony purred, "Oh, I get the worst of you," sounding much more enchanted by that than the flattery Bucky had attempted, and snorting with a wicked grin, "Lucky me."

With a quick gesture for Bucky to follow suit, Tony tipped his glass back so he could empty it and free him to abandon it back on the bar where he sucked his teeth through the burn of the too fast gulp and said, "Come on, let's fill the tank then." He didn't exactly have a plan yet, naturally that part only came as it was unfolding, but the momentum was already carrying him away from the bar to figure out where Bucky got his energy from.

This was about as relaxed as Bucky got at these things. It wasn't his kind of crowd and he never felt comfortable among them. Give him pizza and beer and maybe a pool table and he was much happier. "Padme already claimed the best of me," he shot back, "so of the extremes, you'll have to get the other one."

He was probably not as bad company as he though he was, but still.

Throwing back his drink — too fast just like Stark and in that moment he was grateful for his metabolism — he left his glass next to the other man's and pushed off the bar, easily falling into step at his side. "We could've easily just stayed at the bar and you could have kept laughing at my pathetic flailing," he pointed out. "So what are you thinking?"

The absolute worst company Bucky could be was definitely the one where he was lying around in a hospital bed after a bad fight and the best Tony could do to occupy himself was be viciously cutting to the doctors allowed to treat him. This Bucky was vastly preferable, especially with that drink joining the last very reasonable amount of them to slowly warm Tony to the same kind of comfort he might have in the armor, touching Bucky's shoulder very briefly to stop him from getting ahead of himself. "First of all," Tony said, counting this list off on the other hand, "nothing is stopping me from continuing to laugh and you from flailing. Second, I don't know for sure, but it's percolating." Because when was it wasn't, Tony's gaze still darting sharply despite the very easy meander that came with an evening of expensive booze as they wandered out of the bar and along the edge of the ballroom. It was obvious when the thought had coalesced when Tony touched Bucky's shoulder again quickly, directing him through the tables and toward the proudly displayed Bugatti. Bucky needed some time away from the party without actually leaving the party.

Well, Bucky could certainly arrange to be poor company, hospital bed or not. He probably wouldn't even have to try that hard; he knew he had a mean streak when provoked into it, it wouldn't take much. But he also had a good amount of curiosity and more than a little fondness for mischief; Tony's entire attitude said he was headed straight for something that would satisfy at least one of those, and quite possibly both.

"I kind of thought the laughing and flailing was independent of location," he said, though clearly he didn't hesitate in following Tony around the fringes of the crowd. It was when Tony made a beeline for the car that his eyebrows went up. He supposed that it still technically belonged to him, at least until the auction officially ended, but he didn't think that meant they could fool around in it.

Not that they were going to fool around fool around, but still.

"What are you up to"? he wondered as they approached the vehicle.

There were very few places that Tony would consider off limits to his fooling around, and a car that was still in his name was not one of them, though he did briefly question it with Bucky not sounding terribly impressed by the obvious plan. Not enough to actually slow him down, but Bucky did always have his work cut out for him there. "Giving you a break," Tony replied as though that was incredibly obvious, carelessly vaulting over the minimal security separating the vehicle from the greasy touch of the crowd, to the faint shock of the woman he breezed by.

There should have been at least one more barrier between anyone else and the interior of the car, but Tony wasn't anyone else, and only had to press a finger to the molded seam of the door to send it sliding open. "Winghead," he invited graciously with a flourish.

"It's not like we can go joyriding in here," Bucky pointed out, raising a cautionary finger a moment later. "And no, we absolute can't, Padme would eviscerate us."

Even so he followed Tony right past that barrier, murmuring official business to the one comment attempting to stop them. Who was going to question it anyway? Easy enough to spin some kind of story if needed and Bucky didn't hesitate to slip inside the car when the doors opened. Couldn't, not if he wanted to keep up their act.

It was a sexy, sexy car, too. The inside echoed the outside in clean, sleek lines and Bucky let out a low whistle. "Damn but she's gorgeous."

Joyriding? Them? Perish the thought. If anything unreasonable happened, it was only because Bucky had put it into Tony's head now. Not that Padme was likely to take Tony's side when they were pointing fingers at each other later. Until then, they were on the same team as Tony slid into the car next to Bucky and shut them into its profound silence with a click that effectively sealed the noise of the party outside the darkened interior, secure behind tinted windows in a private cocoon meant to shield them from busy streets.

It still smelled as new as it looked, like Tony likely didn't have the chance to explore it for himself before it was bequeathed to Padme's purposes, the rich leather melting easily with the same base notes in Tony's cologne to effectively cut them fully from the gala experience. Except for the way Tony continued to watch the guests wander hawkishly through the windshield. "Listen, you could just say that," Tony muttered with a gesture of his chin out at the people that he was sure Bucky was having much more success flirting with than he had managed for Tony, but just in case. "Gal likes to hear that as much as a car does. Maybe not exactly like that, could get creepy, but you've got a lot of leeway there. You're Captain America."

Shame really, to give up a car this nice before getting the chance to enjoy her. Bucky was definitely more of a bike guy than a car guy but he could appreciate how nicely appointed the Bugatti truly was. He was half of a mind that it would be worth Padme's wrath if they could actually take her out.

It would never happen though, even outside the fundraiser, so he indulged the fantasy for only a moment more before putting it from his mind.

Besides, Tony apparently had advice; Bucky struggled not to roll his eyes. "That," he pointed out, "is exactly the problem. I'm Captain America." Not that he intended to actually talk over anything like flirting with any seriousness with his current companion. "It's fine Tony."

Tony had been under the impression that the problem was Bucky's delivery or energy, so he actually turned to Bucky then with a frown as he slowly tipped his temple against the headrest. "It is fine," Tony assured him, "when it's just me laughing at you. I happen to find that very charming in a man who is otherwise annoyingly perfect. If you get it all together one of these days, I'm going to be that next lunatic holding the baseball stadium hostage so you'll come throw down with me." If Bucky wanted to talk to anyone other than Tony, though, it was probably not fine. "What's wrong with Captain America?" he pressed.

"You don't need to hold a whole stadium hostage just to get my attention." Bucky shrugged, then reached down to adjust the seat backwards, so he could stretch out his legs — as much as possible, anyway. "I already think you're the prettiest princess at the ball, don't worry."

Which wasn't quite the correct metaphor, but it was good enough.

What's wrong with Captain America, that was the problem right there, wasn't it? Always Captain America, never Bucky Barnes. It was a while since he'd been this maudlin about it too, why the hell was it surfacing now? He shook his head, dismissing it. "Nothing, right? Annoyingly perfect, I think it was."

The production wasn't supposed to get Bucky's attention, but Tony didn't find there was much room to correct Bucky about his intent to punch his annoyingly perfect face when his response was to call Tony a pretty princess. That wasn't the part at all, Tony rationalized, that made him try to scratch away the heated tickle up his neck as he turned pointedly back to the windshield, but not having to work that hard to get Bucky's attention wasn't much better. It was probably warm in the car, naturally.

"Nuh-uh," he said, waving both hands to put an end to this dismissal that Bucky was trying to pull, "You don't get to say that it's the problem and there's nothing wrong. I can't chase you around this car, there's not that much room to work with, you're a big guy, and we're supposed to be taking a break. Stop being an asshole."

It was totally warm in the car. Something something air circulation.

And really, Bucky could have left at any time. They weren't locked inside. But the crowd was out there and in here was blessed silence. Well. As silent as Tony got, anyway.

Bucky tipped his head back against the seat,unable to help the smirk at the mental image of one of them trying to chase the other around the car interior. It definitely wasn't roomy enough for shenanigans like that. And since Tony wasn't letting it go, he supposed that he'd have to give up at least a piece of it. "Tony, that is the problem: nothing's wrong with Captain America. Captain America is perfect. Bucky Barnes, on the other hand, he doesn't much matter, does he?"

For a rare, blessed moment, Tony was actually silent, penetrating focus back on Bucky and looking like he was working through this question like it was a math problem. It wasn't an entirely alien concept to him, but Tony was under the impression that there must have been a greater difference in his relationship with the Iron Man than Bucky had with his superhero identity. He didn't have to hide away in a tin can, for starters. His beautiful, blue eyes didn't come with the costume.

"Okay," Tony abruptly accepted the premise, because walking Bucky gently through this crisis of self-worth was not going to come naturally to Tony. He let them both accept that Bucky didn't much matter for a moment, looking back out at the party like that was decided, then, before just as suddenly pointing out at woman that must have been in her 80s in a plunging gown and at least three wigs. "That's Captain America now." He didn't leave this declaration for quite as long, but propped his open hand on the console between them expectantly, to take Bucky by the wrist and studiously check his pulse.

The silence was honestly more helpful than anything else; Bucky closed his eyes and took a deep breath, enjoying the smell of new car mixed faintly with Tony's cologne and the hint of whiskey. It wasn't a bad combination, actually, and his shoulders finally relaxed for a moment. He really just needed the few moments to collect himself before getting back to the whole Cap thing.

He opened his eyes a moment later at the sensation of movement, Tony gesturing out the window and Bucky couldn't help but snicker. It was unkind and he knew it, but he couldn't help it. "I hope you're not basing the reassignment on similarity of appearance. I think I'd at least manage a wig that doesn't look like a bird's nest." His smile quirked when Tony's fingers pressed to his wrist. "It's fine, okay? Just needed to regroup for a few minutes. Flail a little more, all that."

Tony gave a start as though he really was surprised that Bucky was alive, then slouched down in his seat where he could prop his elbow on the console instead and press his chin into his knuckles, scratching restlessly through his beard as he considered the undead. He wasn't sure he could separate Bucky from Captain America just like that, so it was possible he was part of the problem and why Bucky was being so weird about it.

With a faint frown of guilty apology, Tony looked back out at the party and the woman who definitely just slipped a spoon into her purse. "You know what, now that I'm thinking about it, you've just been keeping the tights warm for her this whole time. That's the true, people's Cap out there. I'd follow her into hell. Do you think she's single?"

Or, consider this: maybe Bucky was just weird.

Truly though the image was so entwined into what he was that it wouldn't be separated any time soon. And that was fine, ninety-nine-point-nine-nine-five of the time. The rest of the time he apparently just needed a break, sitting in a fancy car that he'd never be able to afford with a man who he wasn't quite friends with, laughing when Tony just escalated his conjecture about the woman with the wig and the unfortunately cut dress.

"Why?" he asked. "You need a wingman? Because I will go out there right now—" He couldn't even finish the thought through the chuckles.

He wouldn't have gotten much farther anyway, because Tony was lifting his head out of his hand to give a warning backhand to Bucky's shoulder, demanding, "Don't you dare. If your flirting machine is broken, I can't imagine how much worse your wingman mechanism is. With that kind of luck on deck, she'll be going home with you and I'll be heartbroken." The champagne flute she was trying to tuck away and definitely did not need, did not at all fit in her clutch, making her fumble with trembling hands long enough for Tony to go from laughing to feel a little bad about it and pouting a pitiful, "Oh."

Bucky would have continued the tease, fending off Tony's swat and attempting some kind of come back save that he noticed Tony's line of sight shift. And okay yeah that was a little sad; certainly the woman hadn't deserved their ridicule as it was, but he felt doubly bad now. Bucky scrubbed a hand over his face, sighing. "Well, I feel like an asshole."

Maybe she had a touch of dementia. Maybe it was something else. Whatever it was, their comments didn't seem nearly as funny now.

"You're a terrible influence, you know that? Making fun of innocent elderly people. She didn't do anything to you," Tony accused. "And that's all Bucky, that is not the kind of behaviour Captain America represents, so...Hey, by the looks of her, you probably were in the same class, back when you all learned your letters in the cowshed. I bet you I could go ask if she remembers Bucky Barnes and she'll have all kinds of stories about having the biggest crush on him and leaving love notes in his desk. You've got a few years on her, obviously, it's not your fault you didn't really know she existed, but she's been comparing every man in her life to that beautiful boy who always helped the teacher clean the chalkboard." Did they still feel awkward, did Tony have to keep talking? He was starting to run out of material.

The accusation was meant with levity, he knew that, but Bucky still let his head fall back against the headrest, groaning. Making fun of people was a lot easier when they were nebulous and faceless and truly, a lot of what Tony was saying could be true. Improbable perhaps but the possibility was certainly there.

Bucky was such an asshole.

"Hey Tony?" He looked over again, because seriously how did one man talk so much about nothing? "Stop talking. Or if you have to run your mouth, just tell me about this car instead."

"Yes, darling?" Tony responded readily, before Bucky had finished fully forming his name, and was raptly attentive with wide, innocent eyes like he wasn't already developing ten new ways to call Bucky old, until Bucky was telling him to shut up. He did deserve that, and cleared his throat as he sat up again to properly sink back into his seat instead of slouching over the console. Aside from the restless drumming of his fingers on his thighs, it seemed like Tony might actually be quiet for a moment, too.

Every hero movie needs a party

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