Summer checked herself over in the mirror one last time. She was never comfortable with the way she looked, far less when she dressed up. But the letter had specified formal dress, so formal dress it was, makeup, heeled shoes and all. She’d braided her long hair into a double coronet around her head and accented the burgundy dress with garnet jewellery.
Probably she ought to be grateful to have her work recognised, but then again recognition had very little to do with what she did as a heroine. It was simply something that needed doing that she was capable of doing, that was all. But the folk who had organised this charity ball didn’t seem to think so, and they wanted the empath Summer Rainault, who had, in their words, ‘helped save so many lives during and after the Manhattan Incident,’ to be one of their guests of honour while the rich and powerful of New York City celebrated the end of the cleanup.
Summer anticipated being largely ignored while the attendees swarmed around better known heroes like Captain America and Iron Man. Which, honestly, was fine by her. Making polite conversation with people who were largely unaware of her existence, all the while knowing just how little truth was in their words, had never appealed. She smiled, posed, and waved to the paparazzi on her way in, hiding how awkward and out of place she felt. Once inside the ballroom, Summer found a corner quieter than the rest, acquired a drink, and tried to ignore all the butterflies in her gut.
He honestly hadn’t even wanted to go, but sadly this was something that Pepper couldn’t do for him. And he had tried, several times, to get the new Stark Industries CEO to attend the charity event instead of him. He was sick, in a way, and tired, and he was in no mood to mingle. But Pepper had pointed out that they had specifically asked for Iron Man to attend the event.
So here he was, suit and tied, at an event that he didn’t want to be at. The small mercy was that the rest of the Avengers were there as well, though they all had their own groups of people to talk to. And he did as well, of course, but he at that moment had managed to sneak away with a tumbler of good scotch. He saw a few familiar faces, yes, not counting his teammates, but there were also a lot of people he didn’t recognize too. Which was all fine to him.
He didn’t need to know anyone. He was just Iron Man.
But occasionally someone did wander up to him, more often than not some woman all prettied up in a gown. Which was okay with him. After all, he was still Tony Stark.
If she had been paying attention to people’s physical presence, and not the increasing pressure inside her own head, Summer would certainly have retreated back to her original corner after getting a refill. Never mind that it was starting to swirl with more people as well; strangers were easier far to deal with than Tony Stark.
Well, in one way, anyhow. She didn’t tend to have crushes on random strangers, after all. But no, she’d walked right next him, screwdriver in hand, to lean her forehead against the wall in hopes that the coolth would help suppress her oncoming headache.
The minute he spoke to her, her feelings would probably be obvious to anyone with an eye.