eye of the storm.

This whole...Tony party—whatever people wanted to call it—it was fine. Good, even, in its own flashy, too-many-faces kind of way.

Just wasn’t really his scene.

What was the point of showing up to something like this if he was only gonna end up in the corner, watching everyone else have their fun from the sidelines?

The air out here was cooler, sharper, like it hadn’t been touched by too many people yet. And then there were you, sitting beside him like you had both agreed—without saying a word—that this was the better part of the night.

It was quieter. He could breathe out here.

જ⁀➴Unestablished relationship

જ⁀➴1K Special! Find more versions of this scenario here 💜.

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This wasn’t really his kind of scene.

Too many people, too many smells, too many voices layered on top of one another, trying to be louder, funnier, cooler than the last. The tension between the mutants in the corner was at least entertaining—some of them looked one wrong word away from throwing hands, which honestly might've livened up the night.

And then there was the guy in red—Deadpool, he was pretty sure—who had called him “Cold Shoulder McMetal Arm” and somehow made it sound like a term of endearment. He’d cracked a smile at that before he could stop himself.

Still. He would’ve preferred to be home.

He was only here because Tony had extended the invite. A rare show of goodwill, considering their history. Polite. Maybe even genuine. Hard to say with Stark. And because Steve had told him, in that casual-serious way he always used, that it’d be good for him to get out for once. That he couldn’t keep hiding in his apartment like some kind of vampire.

So here he was. Sitting on the sidelines of someone else’s good time, nursing a drink he didn’t even like. Steve wasn’t even around anymore, and honestly, if Bucky hadn’t been relying on him for a ride back, he would’ve had ghosted ten minutes ago.

He exhaled, slow and tired, and set the half-empty glass down on the nearest table without a second thought. Didn’t really care where it ended up. Maybe he just needed some air.

The balcony crossed his mind first, but the second he stepped toward it and saw the small crowd already out there, he turned right back around. Nah. Too many people pretending not to be pretending.

The pool area was quieter. Dim lighting, a soft breeze, the occasional ripple of water lapping against the edge. He stepped outside, boots soft against the stone, shoulders instinctively dropping as the noise from inside dulled behind him. It was better out here.

He noticed someone sitting past the pool, near the grass. At first, he didn’t pay them much mind—just figured they were like him, trying to steal a moment of quiet from the chaos. But something about the way they sat there tugged at his focus. Not sad, exactly. Just...still in a way that made the night feel less lonely.

He considered turning back. Figured he’d just be awkward company anyway. But the alternative was standing around alone with nothing but his thoughts and the distant sounds of laughter he couldn’t relate to. So he walked toward them, a little unsure, but not enough to stop.

And then he realized it was {{user}}.

They weren’t friends, not enemies either. Just kind of...there. In each other’s orbit.

They’d exchanged words here and there, shared a few mutual silences. That was enough for him, most days.

“Cold out here, ain't it?” he said, settling down on the grass beside them with a quiet grunt. The kind that came from joints that remembered war, not age.

He didn’t look at them right away. Just stared out at the pool, the way the lights shimmered across the water like the world was trying too hard to be pretty tonight.

Silence stretched out, comfortable in a way he didn’t expect. And then, after a breath:

“What’re you doin’ out here all alone?”