"The guys?"
"Y/N, meet Anthony, James, and Chris. I know you know Mackie and Evans, James is my stunt double. He also choreographed all of the fights you're about to see."
"Stunt double, huh? Didn't have the guts to do it yourself?" You tease him, earning some laughs from the small group, "It's great to meet you guys," you turn your attention to the three men before you.
"You too," Chris steps forward, taking you by surprise as he pulls you into a hug, "we've heard a lot about you, it's nice to finally put a face with the stories."
"Stories?" You repeat, looking warily at Sebastian. "Plural?" He just shrugs at you,
"Nothing bad, I promise." Mackie cuts in,
"Most of the time it's just us trying to figure out what he's laughing at." James explains, "I swear, every time I turn around, I find him in a corner smiling like a doof at his phone."
"Okay, now. I think it's time to get inside." Sebastian says quickly, trying to herd the group indoors.
"I make you smile like a doof, do I?" You ask him, feeling something like pride at being able to make him smile,
"You already knew that." He answers simply, his eyes sparkling with unspoken meaning.
You're promptly shown to your seats where you find yourself seated between Sebastian and Anthony, with Chris only two seats away.
The lights go down.
The movie begins.
You and Sebastian spend the entire opening credits fighting over the arm rest before he surrenders,
"It's all mine next time." He whispers quickly as the intro begins to play,
"Who says there will be a next time?" You whisper back playfully,
"Shh, I'm trying to watch a movie." He teases, closing the subject. You shake your head at him, trying to keep your giggles silent, and soon you find yourself swept into his world of superheroes, brainwashing, and civil war.
.
.
.
Yet again, you find yourself in the corner at another after party.
You've been trying to stay away from the open bar, determined to avoid another morning like last time, but Sebastian has insisted on bringing you something to drink twice already.
"Just the two drinks, I swear." He assured you, "it'll calm your nerves and it won't be enough for you to lose the night."
You didn't want to admit it, but he was right. Otherwise you probably wouldn't have been able to sit so calmly beside Chris Evans and chat about photography like you were old friends.
"So why haven't you opened your own studio yet?" He presses, "Seb has already shown us some of your work, your eye is unbelievable." You blush at the compliment,
"Thanks, but ultimately I don't actually want my own studio."
"I thought he said--"
"He probably did. That's my backup plan. It's the goal that I actually tell people about. My shoot-for-the-stars dream is actually selling my work, holding my own exhibitions. That kind of thing." He perks up,
"That sounds great!"
"Doesn't exactly pay the bills though." You sigh,
"It could."
"But it's not a guarantee. I need to do something that will keep a roof over my head and food in the fridge, which is hard enough already."
"I bet you could do it, though." You huff out a disbelieving chuckle, quickly seeing that he is just as stubborn as you are, "If you're that worried, you know what you should get yourself?" You send him a questioning look, "A sugar daddy." Taking him seriously for a moment, you're sure you look horrified at the suggestion, especially since he immediately doubles over,
"I'm kidding." He pats your shoulder, "But seriously, I've got faith in you. I bet you could do it."
"You don't even know me, Evans."
"That's what you think." He laughs, "That kid over there," he nods at Sebastian who's currently laughing at something one of the writers is reminiscing about, "has talked about you almost non-stop since he met you."
"Sorry," You grimace, "Bet that was so interesting." He just looks at you with an expression close to approval,
"It really was."
Your conversation is halted suddenly when a body flops down beside you on the couch.
"How are my best friends?" Sebastian slurs, throwing his arm across your shoulder. He pulls you into him and plants a quick kiss on the top of your head,
"Havin fun there, Seb?" Chris asks, amused.
"How much have you had tonight, dude?" You ask Sebastian as you push away from him, your nose wrinkling against the smell of beer.
"Probably too much." He laughs,
"Then maybe it's time to get going." You reply, still squirming away. He hums, pulling you back to him,
"Your place or mine?" He sniggers,
"Very funny. You're not coming home with me."
"It probably wouldn't be a bad idea to get him to bed, though." Chris's suggestion is promptly met by more snickering from Sebastian.
"You know you are an actual six-year-old when you're drunk?" You sigh at him,
"How would you know?" You stare at him, "Come on, you don't even remember that night. You said so yourself."
"What night?" Chris cuts in, intrigued,
"Nothing, let's get you home, man." You try to drop the conversation,
"Aw, come on! I'm so out of the loop!"
"The night we met, we both got pretty wasted." Sebastian blurts out, a little louder than necessary, "It was pretty awkward waking up together the next morning, barely remembered each other's names, and we had just been talking about not wanting--"
"Sebastian!" You yelp, cutting him off and quickly covering your face in embarrassment,
"You two... Really?"
Your evident anger seems to be sobering for Sebastian, who at least has the decency to look sheepish at his over share,
"Sorry..." Sebastian begins, "He's one of my best friends, it just slipped."
"Hey, I got no room to judge," Chris says, "it happens to everyone sometime, right?" You're still so mortified you can't even manage to look at either of them, "You just seem like you hit it off, so I'm surprised that, after something like that, you aren't actually together."
You and Sebastian share a look, and even in his drunken state, you can see something like regret in his eyes.
"It's a long story." He echoes your words, not breaking eye contact with you,
"Fair enough." Chris concedes, letting the subject drop.
"I should get home though," Sebastian sighs, glancing at his watch. The three of you stand at the same time. You stop Chris as he starts to call a cab,
"Oh, don't worry about it. Enjoy the rest of the party, I'll make sure he gets home safe. It was fantastic meeting you." You try to shake Chris's hand,
"You kidding me?" He pulls you into another bear hug, you're thinking you could definitely get used to this kind of interaction with him, "You better keep in touch. I wanna know when your first exhibition is."
With a half joking agreement, you help Sebastian out of the lounge, into a cab, as soon as it takes off, his head is lolling over onto your shoulder. After several blocks of silence, you think he's dozed off, but then he speaks up,
"You look beautiful tonight, by the way." He slurs, sounding half asleep,
"Thanks."
"I mean, you always look beautiful," you snort, "no, really." He forces his head up to look at you, "I see how you walk, hunching your shoulders and ducking your head. You sit the same way, like you're trying to fold in on yourself."
"Old habit from when I was little a teenager, trying to disappear and pass by unnoticed. I think it's a cool superpower, actually."
"No you don't." He calls you out, holding your gaze. As he leans closer, the cab comes to a stop, interrupting you both.
You should probably call it a night. You should say goodbye now, let him go and get some sleep.
But what kind of friend would you be if you just let him stumble his way into his apartment, all alone, to pass out wherever he pleases?
"Let's get you tucked in, Stan." You take his hand, helping him lead his unsteady legs into his building. You let him lean on you all the way to the elevator, where he throws his arm over your shoulder and rests his cheek on the top of your head. You watch him stumble through his front door and begin to shed layers, his jacket just missing the coat hook by the door, his bow tie flung over the arm of the couch,
"You know, I can actually take care of myself." He says, trying to assure you as he toes off his shoes, but promptly kicks the end table beside his couch, making him grasp his shin and howl several words you're fairly sure aren't even English. His already compromised balance gives way and he crumples, non too gracefully, to the floor, his pained groans puttering into pitiful whimpers,
"I can see that." You try not to laugh, you really do, but the sight is too much for you and you settle for muffling your snickers behind your hand.
"Oh just go home." Sebastian whines, "Especially if you're just gonna laugh at me."
"Aw, come on, I'm not laughing at--" the look he sends you makes you swallow your words, "okay I'm laughing at you. But trust me, if you'd seen that, you would be laughing too."
His head starts drooping again, and you can see he's struggling to stay awake.
"Come on," you tug on his arm, "you can't sleep on the floor." He groans in response, "You would regret it in the morning, trust me. You're not as young as you think." You receive a scandalized look,
"I'll have you know--"
"That you won't be able to get up in the morning if you sleep on this hard floor." You interrupt.
"I'd be fine. I'm fit as a fiddle." You let your eyes wander, taking in the product of his months of obviously hard work.
"That you are." You mutter,
"Hmm?"
"Just get up."
You finally convince him to trudge his way to his bedroom, where you practically brush his teeth for him then force him to drink a couple of glasses of water before he starts whining again.
"You'll thank me in the morning." He flops onto his mattress with another groan, apparently beyond words at this stage of tipsy fatigue. "I'll talk to you tomorrow." You whisper, thinking twice about giving him a kiss on the forehead before trying to sneak out. You feel a hand in yours when you try to turn away,
"Why aren't you staying?"
"Why would I? You don't need me."
"I always need you." He slurs so heavily you almost don't understand him.
You sigh,
"An actual six-year-old, Stan." His eyes are closed, face is half buried in his pillow, slowly relaxing, but you still catch a hint of a smile creeping across his slack mouth. "Scoot over already." His eyes open slightly, his eyebrows raising in surprise. Scrambling out of the way to make room for you, he almost shuffles off the other side of the bed.
You curl up beside him, your dress less than ideal for use as a nightgown, but with no slip, it would have to suffice. He wraps his arms around you immediately, nuzzling his face into your hair, all the while you wonder if you should have just said goodnight back at the cab.
"You could never be invisible to me." He whispers into your shoulder.
You're glad he isn't conscious to see the tear you can't control as it rolls down your cheek.
As much as you just want to stay like this, wrapped up with Sebastian, hearing his heartfelt whispers, laughing at each other all night, you can't put yourself through that again. This can't be more than just this. He can't be more than your friend. You won't risk going through that again.
