Arc 3, Chapter 1, Steve's Party: Steve, Namor & Tony

[clint_barton]

Steve, Namor and Tony mingle; Namor leaves to meet Jane and Tony gets dragged off by Pepper.

Steve looks up at the sky, spotting a dark streak of clouds far in the distance. The wind was picking up, but there was still a good chance it would miss them entirely. He turns back to Doctor Selvig’s grill, watching as the hamburgers and hot dogs brown above the coals and takes a sip of his lemonade.

It’s a beautiful day, despite the threatening clouds that linger far off on the horizon and he smiles to himself. It’ll be nice to have a quiet celebration with friends today. He checks his watch again, he’s not exactly sure when Tony and the other-out of-towners will be showing up but they’ve got plenty set aside so they can grill up more fresh.

Steve shoots a look at Thor who seems to just be enjoying the day, having recovered from the mischief visited upon him by Loki. Things seem to be looking up.

The light rustle of cloth shifting in the wind and a pair of feet touching down on dry earth signals Namor’s uncharacteristically quiet arrival. He lands a few feet behind Steve, and he is most definitely overdressed for the party, not to mention for the weather; a tailored black suit with a black dress shirt underneath (top few buttons undone, of course). The jacket is at least open, so it could be argued that it’s a casual look. He almost wore his Atlantean attire, plunging neckline and all, so at least he’s making an effort to fit in. The effect is somewhat sabotaged by his bare feet, ankle wings visible, but it’s still sure to go over with the other guests better than swimwear.

One hand rises to brush smoothly through his hair and settle any strands disrupted by the flight, then both hands slip into the pockets of his well-cut slacks as blue eyes take note of the culinary offerings. Needless to say, he doesn’t look impressed, but he holds his tongue as he turns his head and allows keen blue eyes to slide over the assembled group. He’d purposely waited for James to move on before making his own arrival, if only for the sake of avoiding pointless pleasantries.

When he finally looks at Steve, he gives a small nod in greeting. “Happy birthday, old friend.” His tone is hardly enthusiastic, but he trusts Steve to understand the sentiment is genuine.

Steve turns at the sound of Namor’s arrival and flashes the other man a pleased grin. “You showed.” He says, a touch of surprise coloring his voice. His eyes narrow in on the suit, raising an eyebrow. “And you’re dressed to the nines. Far more dressed than I expected.”

Putting down the plate and grilling fork he holds out his hand to grasp Namor’s warmly. “Thank you, my friend. It wouldn’t have been the same without you.” He turns to the cooler. “Water? I promise you only have to stay as long as you can tolerate the heat.”

Steve’s comment on the formal outfit receives a gentle grin in reply, amusement lifting Namor’s serious tone, if only marginally. “I’ve discovered my traditional attire is a distraction for most humans - especially so to women.”

He accepts the offered hand in a brief and familiar handshake, then follows Steve’s gaze to observe the contents of the cooler. There’s alcohol mixed in with all manner of other handily bottled or canned drinks, of course; Namor never understood the surface-dweller desire to forcefully dehydrate one’s system.

“Yes, thank you. And I’ve survived worse than this for heat, Steve. Don’t concern yourself over my comfort.”

Steve hides his smile as he reaches into the cooler and fishes out a bottled water. “Without a doubt. And we do have ladies present today, one of them being Thor’s girl, Doctor Jane Foster.” He hands over the water bottle, nothing fancy, just the usual from the local store. “He is very protective of her. So try to keep your charm to a manageable level.” Steve winces, “I don’t feel like breaking up any more fights this week.”

Taking a long drink from his lemonade he idles back over to the grill, poking at the burgers, flipping some of them. “By the way Bucky’s here too with Natalia. And Tony will hopefully be arriving eventually.”

Namor accepts the water absently, interest clearly derailed by one of Steve’s comments. “Doctor Jane Foster? I believe I’ve seen her portrait.” His gaze shifts back to a couple he’d noted earlier, the large blonde man and his much smaller brunette companion. “It does not do her justice.”

His attention moves easily to the man, and one eyebrow arches in obvious skepticism. “And this is your mighty Thor, I assume… ?” He’s heard a great deal about the god’s noble bearing and deeds; the sprawling beast of a man spilling out of his chair is not exactly what he was expecting after such majestic descriptions.

He’s apparently too distracted to respond to Steve’s comment about the other attendees. That, or he’s intentionally ignoring his friend’s efforts to encourage civil behavior.

Steve manages to stop himself from running his hand over his face in a moment of ‘Oh god, why didn’t I see this coming‘ “Yes, she’s very stunning. She’s also very Thor’s.” I think. “And I’m asking you not to take that as a challenge. He snapped at me when I complimented her.”

Steve looks over from managing the grill and sees Thor and Jane doing a bit of canoodling and he smiles. Aiming to distract his friend he moves the finished burgers over to the plate and asks, “So…burger? Hot dog? What would you like. We also have the usual, potato salad, baked beans and I’m grilling corn, too.”

Tony and Pepper board the jet without any bells and whistles in tow, if only because he knows she’ll try to talk him out of it; he’d rather save that argument for the afterparty, when they’re (hopefully) both good and tanked.

Steve asked for a low-key get-together, and Tony’s willing to acknowledge the guy’s Cap-tacular modesty. But unfortunately for Mr. America, his friend is convinced he doesn’t have his own best interests at heart.

They pull up in their rental just ahead of the trucks he’s ordered in from Santa Fe, and like Namor, he’s probably a tad overdressed for the barbeque Steve had in mind.

Out of the trucks pour a slew of caterers, tables, and crates filled with an assortment of hard liquor and two full sets of Perrier-Jouet Champagne. Before Pepper can muster more than a skin-splitting glare, Tony breaks away to have a quick word with the captain of the swelling banquet brigade, then skips on over to Steve at the grill, his arms outstretched.

“There’s the birthday boy.”

Steve hears a rumble and turns just in time to see, not one but many trucks pull up to Doctor Selvig’s home. His jaw drops. Quickly moving the burning meat off of the grill he sets it all aside and wipes his hands on the halved apron tied around his hips. His eyebrows go up as a host of nicely dressed servers hop out of the trucks and start setting up tables-

“Whoa. What is-“

Tony interrupts Steve, in his favorite bulldozing fashion, silencing him with a grandiose hug. Steve is too stunned to struggle and hugs back on pure instinct alone. “Tony. What is going on, who are these people?” A beat, “Is that champagne? A crate of champagne?”

“Two. Two crates of champagne, actually,” Tony corrects him as he drops one of his arms from around Steve and glances behind him at the rapidly-assembling banquet. “I ordered a couple extra hot dogs, in case the girls decide they want something solid to wash down their liquor.”

Almost on cue, a stretch limo turns down the street and slides up to the curb behind Tony’s rented ‘Vette.

“Speak of the devils.” He gives Cap’s shoulder a squeeze, then steps back toward the cars and whistles to get the girls’ attention as half a dozen of them pile out of the limo.

They’re professionals, every one of them. But you better believe these ladies have class that matches their price tag.

Initially, Jane Foster’s guarded demeanor catches Namor’s interest, and he entertains the idea of interrupting the blonde man’s obvious efforts to appease her. Before he gets the chance, however, the interactions between Jane and Thor abruptly thaw; Namor’s brows furrow in a slight frown of disapproval at this turn of events, but he turns away and nonchalantly lifts the bottled water for a drink. He doesn’t see the kiss, but he knows well enough by the sudden intimacy of their body language that now isn’t the moment to introduce himself. There’s always later.

The bottle is still at his lips when a sudden flurry of activity proves even more distracting than the bewitching Ms. Foster - Tony Stark, arriving with a (predictably) garish entourage in tow. He wasn’t expecting the noisy arrival, but he’s utterly unsurprised to see it coming from Stark. Returning the cap to the bottled water with casual precision as the newcomer assaults a shocked Steve, he then follows Stark’s gesture towards the women climbing out of the limousine.

Of course Stark would bring escorts to a July 4th celebration hosted by Captain Morality. Apparently his preoccupation with Steve’s sex life isn’t restricted to online harassment.

Critical blue eyes are still taking in the transformation of their formerly humble surroundings as he offers an unamused greeting. “Stark. Tasteful as always, I see.”

“‘The girls’?” Steve asks, just in time to to see a bevy of beautiful women slink out of the limo. His jaw drops, mostly in dismay. “Tony, you-” The beginnings of an angry flush start on his face but he takes a deep calming breath before speaking, “What did I say about keeping things small, do you even know these girls?” This wasn’t going to work, he didn’t make enough food for this many- Well there were caterers now. Caterers.

“How am I going to explain this to Doctor Selvig,” Steve mutters to himself.

He shoots a look at Namor, who is already gunning for a battle of underhanded insults. Those never end well when it comes to Tony and Namor. “Listen,” He interrupts quickly, not wanting things to escalate. He can deal with this. “It’s nothing, it’s fine. Thank you for thinking of me, Tony.” Giving the man a one armed squeeze. “Is that-…those aren’t speakers are they? Why do they have speakers?”

For Steve’s sake, Tony scrapes up the will to ignore Merman for a second. Instead, he pulls back his sleeve to peek at his watch while the girls start to fall in.

“What? No music, no party. I called in a favor. Just give these guys half an hour and we’ll be set.”

When he looks up, he puts a hand on the waists of the two women now flanking him and quirks an eyebrow at Steve over the frame of his shades. “I know what you’re thinking, but these ladies are close personal friends. I can vouch for every last one of them.”

A unanimous murmur of laughter moves through the group, and Tony leans over to drop a few words in one leggy brunette’s ear. She nods, and the rest of the women peel off to mingle while the one hovers at his side.

Namor is momentarily distracted from further remarks, though it’s not out of respect to Steve’s cease-and-desist look. There’s something off about the situation, a tense sensation settling in at the back of his neck, but Namor can’t quite place the cause. Temporarily ignoring Stark’s antics, he casts cool eyes over the surrounding commotion once more; there’s nothing of note, aside from the rapidly materializing entertainment and, of course, the endless expanse of parched earth.

The last observation causes him to absently take another drink of water before turning his gaze back to Steve and Tony. At the latter’s remark on the company, Namor raises one eyebrow, seeming genuinely affronted for once at Stark’s actions.

“Personal? Surely you don’t intend to present Steve with second-hand gifts?” Yes, he probably means what you think he means.

“Namor.” Steve says, shooting the man a dark look, “You shouldn’t speak about a lady like that. Especially not in front of her. That’s uncalled for.” Hoping desperately that his friend will think a bit before speaking again, he turns back to Tony and The Brunette. Steve offers an apologetic smile to her and a hand to shake, “My name is Steve, I’m a friend of Tony’s. Although, I have a sneaking suspicion he’s already told you. This normally polite man next to me is Namor McKenzie.”

The heat of the day seems to be getting to him and the sudden flurry of activity is a bit distracting. That’s really the only way Steve can explain why, “You’re very beautiful,” slips out before he can even get the girl’s name. “Ah- Wow,” he chuckles self consciously finally letting go of her hand, “I’m sorry. Can I get you two a drink?”

“Go easy on the guy,” Tony says, tucking his hands into his pockets. “I don’t think they have manners where he comes from.”

Of course, Tony’s ‘friend’ seems more amused than offended by Namor’s jab, and she winks at him discreetly before taking the Captain’s hand.

“Why thank you, Mr. Rogers. A drink would be wonderful.”

But before Tony has a chance to show more than a raised eyebrow at Steve’s oddly candid comment, there’s a hand on his shoulder, and he turns his head to follow the line of that shapely arm back to…an extremely put-out Pepper Potts.

“Happy Birthday, Steve. Sorry, but I need to borrow Mr. Stark for just a minute,” she says, sounding anything bet apologetic as she grabs his wrist and tugs him out of the circle.

“You kids can handle yourselves, right? I’ll just be—where are we going?” If she answers at all, the words are lost in the bustle of the crowd as they move away.

If Pepper had any idea that Tony was going to ambush commandeer Steve’s party, she wouldn’t have let him out of her sight. Though she should have assumed he’d take control, it was Tony after all, and a small little get together wasn’t really his style.

She tried her best to withhold her anger until she was able to get Tony away from his friends and the rest of the partygoers; she was, after all, a composed woman who knew how to behave in public situations.

 Once she had tugged him back behind the catering and party supply trucks, she dropped his wrist and turned to face him with a stern look, arms crossed against her chest.

“An explanation would be wonderful, Tony.”

But he knows pepper well enough that the scolding is an anticipated part of the evening. So he takes it in stride.

“Hey, I’m just making sure my friend has a happy birthday. You know Steve—he wanted this to be about America. He didn’t even tell me it was his birthday; I had to figure that one out on my own.” Thanks, tumblr.

“Where I come from we do not waste time with meaningless platitudes.” Namor doesn’t sound particularly irritated, but his standard droll tone is even more blunt and impatient than usual. It’s not an uncommon development for someone with such an infamous temper, but the speed with which he’s lost interest in the banter is a bit less so. Particularly in front of a lady, since he normally at least pretends to be chivalrous.

He seemingly has no more patience for the young woman’s conspiratorial wink then he does Stark’s presence, not bothering to acknowledge it and turning away as she takes Steve’s hand and makes nice. Steve’s bumbling reaction to the woman’s beauty doesn’t strike Namor as odd so much as mildly pitiful; he can’t imagine how a grown man can still be so unpracticed at courtship.

When he turns his back on Steve and his new friend, it affords him a glimpse of Thor moving through the crowd solo - the towering man is all smiles and excessively warm greetings. Namor finds the display exhausting just to watch, and can’t help but wonder what appeal there is to such a guileless personality. He also registers that if Thor is on his own, then he’s no longer an obstacle to making Jane Foster’s acquaintance.