continued from here {x}
Steve didn’t startle at the hand on his shoulder—but the tension in him shifted, just enough to give it away. His breath left him a little slower this time, like Tony’s voice had cut through the noise in a way nothing else had managed to.
“Yeah,” he said quietly, not even pretending to argue it. His grip loosened on the champagne glass, lowering it without another sip. “That sounds like a good idea.”
He turned slightly, enough to glance at Tony, the tightness in his expression easing by a fraction. There was still weight there—too many eyes, too many expectations—but it wasn’t as sharp now. “Thought it might just be me,” he added, a faint, wry edge slipping into his voice. “Starting to feel like I need a tactical exit strategy for a fundraiser.”
Steve shifted with him as they moved, falling into step easily, shoulders angling away from the crowd without drawing attention. The noise followed for a few steps—laughter, music, the hum of voices—but it dulled as they neared the balcony doors.
“Lead the way,” he murmured, quieter now, like the promise of open air was already doing its job.
@justa-tinman
