@symbolstill sent : stop laughing, this isn't funny. (:
It wasn’t often the team found themselves together without the threat of global annihilation looming overhead. But tonight -- miraculously -- they were. Perched atop Stark Tower, the city glittering beneath them like a light show in their honour, the Avengers were finally just… people. Naturally, Tony had taken it upon himself to cater the evening. In true Stark fashion, this meant margaritas blended not with ice, but with arc reactor precision. He handed them out like party favours, grinning like a man who had never followed a recipe. It was only natural, he supposed, that Steve regarded the neon concoction with suspicion and Tony gasped, clutching his chest with mock betrayal. “So you’re telling me you don’t want to try the arc reactor-powered margarita blender I built specifically for this rooftop bash? Who even are you?”
Someone chimed in from the group - something about Steve just wanting to keep his wits about him in case danger struck, protecting the people and all of that jargon. Tony rolled his eyes, already half a sip into his drink. “From what? Fun?” He scoffed and set his glass down with flair.
“I’m hurt, Rogers. Truly. All this genius, all this hard work… and you show up as the party grandma?”
And right on cue, as if fate herself had a sense of humour, one of the guests stumbled. There was a gasp, a flail, and then—splash—an entire margarita cascaded down the front of Steve’s pristine shirt. Tony didn’t even try to hide it. He doubled over laughing. Steve, soaked and vaguely sticky, looked like he’d just been personally offended by the 21st century. This made Tony laugh harder when Steve told him to stop laughing. “Are you kidding me? Rogers, that was the highlight of the night. If you’d just accepted the drink in the first place, the universe wouldn’t have punished your cocktail snobbery.” He paused, raising his glass in salute. “To karma. And tequila.”
