Lamborghini | Tony Stark

ELEVEN - THE TERRACE

Tony finally walked into his party only a mere forty-five minutes late after drinking half a bottle of whiskey to himself upstairs. He used alcohol to flush out the tension that had built up inside his chest, needing to feel on the verge of drunk before he could bring himself to look Sasha in the eye again.

She'd left him stunned, allowing him to do nothing but sit alone staring at the flowers with a crystal glass in his hand, his tie perfectly secured around his neck.

Tony didn't like Sasha like that. He thought she was pretty, beautiful, even, of course he did, though she would always be Agent Coulson's little sister, and a friend at best. He'd never found himself drawn to her in the same way he was earlier that night, unable to recall a time he'd felt the same urge inside his soul to grab someone and kiss them the way he wanted to with her, using all his willpower to keep his hands to himself.

And ultimately, he'd been glad he'd been able to do so, not wanting to ruin a friendship that brought him so much happiness over a moment he was sure was simply just that, a moment.

"Here he is! The man of the hour, in fact, the man of every hour."

Rhodey pulled his friend into a hug, slapping him affectionately on the back before thrusting a bottle of beer into his hand.

"Thanks, Rhodey. How's the party?"

"Your parties are always great, you know that."

Tony laughed, nodding in agreement with a smug look on his face, "You're right, they are. Is there any pizza left?"

"Only enough to feed half of Manhattan."

Rhodey pointing to a long dining table filled with takeout boxes and trays, some empty and some untouched. Tony walked over by himself and began grabbing a couple of slices, beginning to feel like it was a mistake to drink so much before coming down to greet everyone.

"Hey, Tony, have you seen Sasha?"

Looking up with a mouthful of pizza, Tony found himself face to face with Steve who also grabbed a hot slice of pizza from the table, washing it down with beer.

"Earlier yeah, why?"

Steve shook his head, pursing his lips as he gazed around the room, "She seemed a little flustered when she came downstairs before, wouldn't tell me what was up. I just wondered if she'd told you, I know she sometimes gets upset out of nowhere, I just want to make sure she's alright."

Tony swallowed hard, the tension he thought he'd drowned in Irish whiskey suddenly fought its way back into his throat and chest, making it difficult for him to think straight for a few moments.

He looked around the room in search of the black dress he couldn't possibly forget, though it was hard to see through so many people, most of them he didn't remember inviting.

"She was fine before," Tony said truthfully, "Maybe your ugly jacket offended her so bad she left."

Steve rolled his eyes, glaring at his friend who just shrugged his shoulders and walked away, grabbing a glass of champagne from a guy in a tuxedo holding up a silver tray.

With his back finally turned to Steve, Tony blew out his cheeks, letting out a huge sigh of relief as he walked away. Sasha did seem fine earlier, in fact, she looked the happiest she had done in a long time.

He didn't think he overstepped the mark with her before, in fact, he was convinced that he didn't. Tony hadn't laid so much as a finger on Sasha, though he was well aware that the way he was looking at her as she gazed up at him with her hands on his chest wasn't quite as friendly as they'd been up until that point.