HADES' HELLFIRE ▹ S. Rogers

THREE.

YOU'RE NOT REALLY A SHIELD AGENT IF YOU HAVEN'T BEEN TO A PARTY HOSTED BY TONY STARK.

It's almost like a fraternity initiation, just without the hazing. The best agents (and Tony's favorites) get invited. As a matter of fact, Tony Stark only looks at the best ones. Most SHIELD agents would be delighted to receive an invitation. Ambrose is not.

When he first receives the text, it's from an anonymous number with his caller ID turned off. My tower, 6pm, tonight, be there, the text reads. It takes him a moment for him to realize that the text is from Tony Stark. Even then, it doesn't change his opinion; he's not going. Ambrose hates crowds, hates parties, hates most social interactions. He never knows who to trust. And at this point, he's not sure if he wants to know who he can trust.

Ambrose ends up inadvertently telling Steve about the invitation. It snakes into the conversation when Ambrose mentions it while they're sparring. He mentioned it in passing, he didn't mean to cause a whole conversation about it. Truthfully, he doesn't realize Steve cares about his going anyway.

That's not true, he most definitely does.

"Why not go?" Steve asks as he blocks one of Ambrose's punches. "Stark goes all out on his parties-" A soft pant escapes him. "So even if you're not social, it's free food and drink!"

"No." Ambrose states flatly, his foot sweeping under Steve's feet. The blonde falls to the ground with a loud thud. "I've had the displeasure of meeting Tony Stark personally, and I don't wish to see him again."

"He'll be too busy with his investor friends," Steve promises. Ambrose extends a hand, Steve accepting it. The brunette lifts the blond onto his feet, keeping his gaze on Steve's face. "He always is. Each Stark party ends with him drunk on the cover of some magazine. Last time, Stark apparently bought a llama impulsively and argued that it would be a good bartender. He named it Pickles. I'm pretty sure he still has it now." Steve laughs at the memory, Ambrose copying the man's smile.

"Well, as delightful as that sounds, Steven," Ambrose passes Steve's water bottle to him. "I'm sure the party will be just as lively without my being there."

"I'm not sure if you're much of a drinker, but, uh..." Steve takes a small sip of his water, wiping away the excess that dribbles down his chin. "Along with free food and drinks, the bar is absolutely wild. Stark managed to get his hands on beers that I haven't heard since the forties."

Ambrose pretends to ponder for a moment. "Will you be there?"

"Only if you are."

"Then I suppose we should find ourselves a well-fitting suit, hm?"