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The party was in full swing, a cacophony of music, laughter, and clinking glasses filling the luxurious venue.
Tony arrived in his signature style—a sharp suit, sunglasses, and a drink in hand. Beside him, Seph stood tall in a tailored suit that Tony had lent him.
"Alright, here's the deal," Tony said as they entered. "You're my bodyguard, but tonight, you're also my buffer. If anyone starts talking boring business, you swoop in and save me."
Seph smirked. "Got it. And if anyone asks about your ego?"
"Tell them it's doing great, thanks for asking."
As they navigated through the crowd, Seph instantly became the center of gravity. His broad shoulders and commanding presence radiated an effortless allure, while his sharp, chiseled features captured every wandering gaze.
Conversations faltered, replaced by hushed whispers and stifled gasps.
"Who is that?" A brunette murmured behind her wine glass, her wide eyes trailing after Seph.
"He looks like he just walked off the cover of a magazine," Her friend responded breathlessly, barely able to tear her eyes away.
Another woman, her cheeks flushed with curiosity and a touch of envy, leaned toward her group. "Is he a celebrity? A model? I need to know."
A group near the bar didn't bother being discreet.
"Dear lord, just look at him," One of them drawled, practically drooling over her martini. "That jawline should come with a warning label."
"He's not just handsome; he's... devastating," Another sighed wistfully. "Imagine what those hands could do."
The last words sent a ripple of mischievous giggles through the small crowd.
Seph hunched his shoulders slightly, glaring at Tony.
"Does this always happen to you?" He grumbled under his breath, his discomfort obvious.
Tony couldn't hold back a laugh, clearly reveling in Seph's predicament. "Welcome to my world, buddy. You'll get used to it."
"Yeah, no thanks," Seph muttered as a woman accidentally—or perhaps not so accidentally—bumped into his arm with a saccharine apology that came paired with a shameless once-over. Deciding he'd had enough of the mounting lust-fueled attention, he shifted closer to Tony, subtly using him as a shield.
But Seph's attempts at going unnoticed only seemed to fuel the intrigue.
"Oh, he's shy," Someone swooned. "That just makes him hotter."
Tony strolled up to Obadiah Stane, his trademark smirk firmly in place. "Obie! Still rocking that bald look, huh? Must've made quite the impression at my party. You know, the one I apparently wasn't invited to."
Obadiah chuckled, shaking his head. "Tony, you don't need an invitation to your own circus. Besides, you're always the star attraction—whether you show up or not."
Tony raised an eyebrow, grinning. "True, but a formal invite wouldn't hurt. Gotta keep appearances, right?"
Obadiah smirked. "You don't do 'formal,' Tony."
"And yet, here I am." Tony quipped, lifting his glass before disappearing back into the crowd, leaving Obadiah chuckling at his antics.
Obadiah chuckled. "And you're still the same, Tony. Always the life of the party."
"What can I say? It's a gift."
Tony sauntered over to the bar, his drink in hand. But before he could call out the bartender, a man dressed in a suit standing close to the bar turned around and called out to Tony.
Coulson turned to him with his usual composed demeanor, extending a hand.
"Mr. Stark. Agent Phil Coulson, Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division."
Tony blinked. "That's… a mouthful. You guys should work on the branding."
"We're working on it," Coulson said with a small smile. "I'd like to schedule a meeting to discuss your recent activities."
Before Tony could respond, his eyes drifted past Coulson, catching sight of Pepper across the room. Her sleek, backless dress shimmered under the soft glow of the lights, the elegant curve of her frame drawing every envious glance in the room. Tony was momentarily mesmerized, a rare moment of genuine distraction softening his usual sharp demeanor.
Coulson cleared his throat, snapping Tony back to the present.
"Right, a meeting," Tony said quickly, his attention still flickering toward Pepper. Then, seizing the opportunity, he clapped Coulson on the shoulder. "You know, I'd love to chat, Phil, but Pepper's clearly about to start an international incident over there."
Coulson followed Tony's gaze, briefly landing on Pepper. Unfazed, he nodded. "Next time, then."
"Absolutely," Tony said with a quick grin before slipping away toward Pepper.
When he reached her, she was mid-conversation, turning toward him with a mix of amusement and surprise.
"Care to dance?" Tony asked, extending his hand, his usual bravado tempered by a rare, sincere smile.
Pepper arched an eyebrow, glancing at him knowingly. "Using me to avoid work again, aren't you?"
Tony smirked. "Maybe, but can you blame me? You look stunning. Don't leave me hanging."
She hesitated, then placed her hand in his. "Fine. But if you step on my toes, the meeting's back on."
"Deal," Tony quipped, whisking her onto the dance floor under the soft glow of the chandeliers.
The two moved gracefully, though their conversation was anything but smooth.
"You know," Pepper said, her tone sharp, "You could try taking things seriously for once."
Tony smirked. "Where's the fun in that?"
Pepper sighed. "One day, Stark, your charm won't get you out of trouble."
"Good thing today's not that day."
As the song ended, Pepper turned to Seph, who had been watching from the sidelines. "What about you, Seph? Jealous?"
Seph's eyes twinkled with mischief. "Of Tony? Please. I don't have to try to impress anyone."
Pepper raised an eyebrow. "Really? Because it looks like you're doing a pretty good job of it."
Seph leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "If I wanted to impress you, Pepper, you'd know it."
The comment left her momentarily speechless, and Seph smirked as he turned away.
Tony, meanwhile, was approached by a familiar face—Christine Everhart, an investigative reporter.
"Tony Stark," She said, her tone cool but professional.Â
"Charlene," Tony replied with his signature charming smile. "What brings you to this fine establishment?"Â
Her eyebrow arched sharply. "It's Christine."Â
"Christine, of course!" Tony recovered smoothly, though a mischievous glint danced in his eyes. "Charlene was last week. My bad."Â
"So what brings you to this fine establishment?"
"Work, as always." She handed him a tablet displaying images of terrorists in Gulmira. "Recognize these?"
Tony's expression darkened as he studied the images. The terrorists were wielding weapons stamped with the Stark Industries logo.
"What the hell is this?" Tony asked, his tone uncharacteristically serious.
"Gulmira," Christine explained. "They're using your weapons to terrorize the region. Thought you might want to know."
Tony clenched his jaw, a rare display of genuine anger. "Thanks for the heads-up."
Christine nodded, her work done, and left Tony staring at the images.
--- ✦ ✦ ✦ ---
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