A week later, my peaceful process of designing suits for Tony and the rest of the Avengers was rudely interrupted by some small charity gala. Apparently, it wasn't mandatory, but Pepper insisted I attend.
"Tony will be there," she had said with that knowing little smile.
Okay. First of all, I didn't need to know that. It wasn't like I was going for him or anything. Please.
Anyway, I wore a powder-blue suit with sharp tailoring and a matching beret, chic, clean, and classy. A nod to Dior but with my own signature. Understated but powerful. The kind of look that made people second-guess if I was just a guest or the event's main sponsor.
As CJ drove us there, the city lights bouncing across the windshield like restless thoughts, he casually asked, "Are you sure you're not in love with Tony Stark?"
I blinked. "What! CJ, of course not!"
He tilted his head, one eyebrow raised as he met my eyes. "Alright," he said. No teasing. No smile. Just flat-out doubt in human form.
I sighed and sank into my seat. "Why do we keep having this conversation every time we're together now?"
CJ shrugged, eyes still on the road. "Because I don't want you to get hurt."
"You do know I can take care of myself, right?"
"Yeah, I know," he replied, a little softer this time. "I'll stop bringing it up."
"CJ, it's fine. You've known me for like, fifteen years. You don't need to babysit me."
The rest of the drive passed in silence. Not the awkward kind, just the comfortable stillness of two people who'd known each other long enough to not fill every space with words.
We finally pulled up in front of the venue. Lights, velvet ropes, and paparazzi. The usual drama. But I didn't move.
CJ gave me a look. "You getting out or just planning to brood dramatically all night?"
I turned toward him. "Do you want to meet him?"
"What?"
"Do you want to meet Tony Stark?"
He blinked. "Why would I want to do that?"
"Oh come on, you can survive one event. Besides, you look the part. Always do. You're my driver, after all."
Eventually, after a bit of bribing and a suspiciously specific promise of future coffee, I dragged him inside. CJ cleaned up well, as usual. Crisp lines, dark tones, cool expression. Like a bodyguard from a luxury fashion magazine.
"Don't be nervous," I teased, adjusting his collar. "High-profile people can smell fear."
"That's not helping," he muttered as I stifled a laugh.
"Y/N!" came a familiar voice from the side.
And speak of the devil in an expensive suit.
"Hey, I didn't expect to see you here," Tony said, approaching us with that charming arrogance only he could pull off.
"I didn't expect to see me here either," I replied. "Tony, this is CJ."
CJ gave a short nod. "Hey."
I elbowed him.
"Ow! I mean-hi, I'm CJ. Nice to meet you," he added, eyes rolling slightly.
Tony looked him up and down with pointed glare. "Tony," he responded, clipped and curt.
CJ looked back at me with an expression that screamed: Seriously? This is the guy? I ignored him with a smile only a lifelong friend could decipher.
"Could I borrow you for a moment, Y/N?" Tony asked, ignoring CJ's lingering presence at my side.
"Sure. I'll be right back," I said to CJ, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before following Tony. I could feel the staring contest behind me, but I chose peace.
Tony led me to a quiet balcony and handed me a glass of wine before leaning against the railing, classic playboy mode activated.
"So, what did you need me for?" I asked, sipping the wine. Dry, expensive. A little dramatic.
"Is he your boyfriend?" Tony asked abruptly, tone edged with something... territorial.
"What?" I blinked.
"Is that Alvin-the-Chipmunk-looking guy your boyfriend?" he repeated, as if he hadn't just compared my oldest friend to a cartoon rodent.
"Wait, are you insulting CJ?" I asked, half-laughing, half-concerned.
"So he is your boyfriend," Tony said, jaw tensing like he'd just discovered a personal betrayal.
"What? No!" I said, setting my wine glass down.
"You hesitated," he said, eyes narrowing.
I stared at him, then burst into laughter. Unfiltered, belly-aching, can't-catch-my-breath laughter.
Tony looked genuinely offended. "What's so funny?"
"You," I managed to say between giggles. "You're funny."
"Glad I amuse you," he grumbled.
"Tony," I wheezed. "CJ would be more into you than he'd ever be into me."
Tony froze. "What?"
I wiped a tear from my eye. "CJ is gay, Tony."
"Oh," he said. Just that one word, like it solved a puzzle he didn't know he was trying to complete.
I smirked. "Were you jealous?"
"No," he said immediately. "I was... curious. That's all."
I gave him a knowing look as I poured myself another glass. "Relax. You're safe."
"You're drinking a lot," he said, watching me chug the glass like juice.
"You can't get drunk off wine, Tony. I'll be fine."
"That's definitely not how that works," he said, eyebrows raising as I reached for more.
"My philosophy," I said, shrugging as I drained another.
"Okay, I'm getting the feeling you just came here to get drunk off your ass," he said, gently pulling the glass from my hand.
"Guilty," I grinned, grabbing the bottle and taking a long swig.
Tony stared. "You know what? Screw it." He grabbed the bottle and took a swig himself.
Cut to a few hours later, we were both stumbling down a side street, hopelessly drunk, sharing a bottle of overpriced wine like two teenagers who'd raided a minibar.
"I mean, Steve does have the muscles," I giggled, arm draped lazily around Tony's neck.
"Yeah, but who's got the brains?" he said, tapping his head, his other hand resting comfortably on my waist.
"Brains don't get you laid, pretty boy," I teased, the cold night air making everything feel funnier.
"Hey, who said they don't?" he shot back, spinning slightly to face me, that cocky smirk back in full force.
"You gonna prove me wrong?" I asked, tugging him a little closer by the collar.
His hands slid to my hips. His body pressed against mine. We were close, too close. Lips brushing distance. His breath was warm, and for a second, the world spun just right.
ring ring.
The shrill sound of my phone made us both flinch.
I fumbled it out of my pocket. "CJ."
I answered. "CJ, I'm fine."
"Y/N, where the hell are you? I've been looking for you for two hours!" he yelled.
"I'm fine," I repeated, wincing.
"I don't want 'fine.' I want a location."
"I... don't really know where I am."
"You don't know? Are you kidding me?!"
Tony leaned in close, speaking directly into the phone. "We're somewhere near Central Park."
There was a long pause.
"Is that Stark? Did he do something? I swear to God, if he touched you I'm going to-"
"CJ," I cut him off, already exhausted. "I'm fine. I'll call a cab. Go home."
Before he could protest, I hung up and shut the phone off.
"Y/N," Tony started, but I shook my head.
"I'm okay. But we're really, really drunk. I should head home."
He looked disappointed. Or maybe confused. Maybe both.
I gave him a soft smile before turning away. But as I walked off, a weird little knot twisted in my chest. Guilt? Maybe. Disappointment? Definitely.
And I wasn't sure who it was for.