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Tony Stark always hated New Year’s parties.
They always started with way too many people comparing him to his father, then ended with waking up naked and hungover with some random girl in the bed beside him.
He never believed in ‘New Year, new me’ either. He didn’t make New Year's resolutions, he didn’t think that he could make the commitment to, what, go to the gym once a week? Work harder? In his case, it would be to actually focus on himself and maybe not spend forty hours straight in his workshop without eating or sleeping, but the company depended on him, and what the hell, he didn’t believe in it anyway.
New Year's was just a publicity stunt. Invite important people over. Offer drinks to soften them up. Then propose a couple business deals and play up the crowd until they can be manipulated. Tony knew the game; he’d already sent out the invitations and hired the best caterers in New York. Pepper was hoping to get a few expansions for the company, and he needed to make them like him. Easy. He always got the good drinks, and had a perfect business smile that made him look confident and that he knew what he was talking about.
“Don’t embarrass me,” Howard had drilled into him the entire time he was alive, and Tony still followed that rule.
“I’ve got your suit ready,” Pepper informed him, holding up a black garment bag. She hung it on the doorknob of his closet of his bedroom.
“Have you picked out your dress?” Tony asked, pulling off his band shirt and unzipping the bag to retrieve the suit. A plain grey two-button suit, with a matching grey checkered tie and a light blue dress shirt. It felt like cardboard under his fingers.
“Of course,” Pepper smiled.
“We won’t clash?” Tony pulled on the dress shirt and buttoned it up.
“No, Mr Stark, we won’t,” Pepper rolled her eyes. “Have you reviewed the guest list?”
“Nope,” Tony said, undoing his jeans. Pepper turned around to give him privacy, so he couldn’t see the eye roll, but he knew it was there. He quickly pulled on the dress pants and threw the jeans on the bed.
“Mr Rhodes will be there-” she said, turning around and holding up the suit jacket for Tony to shrug into.
“Rhodey?” Tony stopped all movement to stare at her.
“If you had checked the list-”
“Yeah, yeah,” he interrupted, pulling the jacket up over his shoulders and tugging the sleeves of his dress shirt down. “It’s not like the queen is coming.”
“Although I’m sure you wouldn’t care if she did,” Pepper sighed. “Happy will pick you up in half an hour.”
“Will I see you?” he raised an eyebrow, throwing the tie around his shoulders.
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“Ouch,” Tony feigned hurt, looking down to tie the tie.
“See you at the party, Mr Stark,” Pepper tucked the pocket square gently into Tony’s breast pocket. “Be on your best behavior.”
“Wine, food, and a room of rich people,” Tony winked. “What could go wrong?”
--
“Hey, sugarplum,” Tony said, clapping his friend on the back. “Long time no see.”
“Glad to see you with your liver intact,” Rhodey rolled his eyes, grinning nonetheless.
“I’ve come to do more damage,” Tony grabbed a flute of champagne off of a nearby waiter.
Rhodey shook his head. “You have a problem, Tones.”
“Hey; it’s New Year’s eve! Lighten up a little,” Tony smirked, downing the champagne and already looking for more.
The banquet hall was filled with fancy business men in suits (and their daughters), a handful of reporters, and crawling with waiters and waitresses holding platters of drinks and other refreshments. He spotted Pepper talking business to a few men and floated over to her, ignoring women who were clearly trying to catch his eye and of course, stupid Hammer. It was mandatory to invite him to these things, but it didn’t stop Tony from wanting to strangle him.
“...and of course, you know Tony Stark,” Pepper put her arm on Tony, dragging him into the conversation. She gave him a slight pinch, a warning to act accordingly. He jumped, suddenly four feet tall and under Howard’s arm.
Tony smiled at a man, although shaken up a bit. He cleared his throat and shook his hand. “Enjoying the party?”
“Definitely,” a man said with a french accent. Tony read the name tag quickly, but didn’t recognize the name.
“Monsieur Gilbert is from Énergem,” Pepper supplied. “He’s very interested in arc reactor technology.”
“Ah, yes. Zero carbon footprint, save for the construction, and able to supply energy for years,” Tony elaborated.
“It is impressive,” Gilbert admitted. “My company and I, we would love to partner with you sometime. It would please the Paris Agreement.”
“Only planet we have, right?” Tony nodded. “Miss Potts will send you an email to fix a meeting date, how does that sound?”
“Perfect. Thank you, Monsieur Stark,” Gilbert shook his hand tightly again, and Tony smiled before turning his back and looking around for Rhodey, but nearly bumped into a waiter.
“My apologies,” Tony said, placing his empty champagne flute on the tray and picking up another, backing away and taking small sips.
He shouldn’t get too drunk. It wasn’t good for the company, but honestly, there were people who were being paid to serve alcohol, how could Tony resist? There was a bartender, several, actually, and waiters everywhere he looked. It wasn’t exactly expected of him to stay sober either, with his whole image of a playboy alcoholic. Howard Stark loved his drinks, and therefore, Tony Stark must also.
A long ways back, when Howard was alive, he would let young Tony take one champagne flute to last the night. He didn’t want to look like he was a controlling father who didn’t let his son drink a little in celebration, but didn’t want Tony to look like an alcoholic at age eight. But as Tony grew older and his love for alcohol also grew, he drank more and more, until he was pissed drunk and had to be carried off.
Howard would always have a lot to say after those nights.
“Ah, Tony Stark!” Justin Hammer said, slinging an arm around Tony, who reflexively backed away.
“Hammer,” Tony forced a smile, as someone from press snapped a photo. “How’s the company?”
“Oh, thriving,” Hammer grinned. “Yours?”
“The usual.”
“Oho! That must mean fantastic. Can I get you a drink?” Hammer practically yelled in Tony’s ear.
Tony winced, putting a hand in between him and Hammer. “That’s not necessary.”
“Are you sure? It’s your party, I know you’ve got the good stuff,” he did finger guns while Tony wrenched himself from his grip.
“I can get it myself,” Tony answered, walking away.
“We’ll catch up later!” Hammer yelled to Tony’s back.
Tony cringed, scanning the room for a drink. He could still feel Hammer’s hot breath on his cheek, warm and sweaty hands grabbing onto his arm. When he was little, the women used to pick Tony up, or grab his cheeks and pinch them, cooing about how cute he ways, and how much he resembled his father. Getting touched by people, shaking their clammy hands, smelling the alcohol on their breath, it just wasn’t Tony’s cup of tea, even as a grown up. He’d much rather do all of the talking on the phone, or across a table, or even better, be downstairs in his workshop, not talking to anyone at all.
Everyone expected him to love talking. And he did; but only to people he knew. Tony could talk Pepper’s head off about things that annoy him, he could rant to Rhodey about his latest invention, he could talk to Obie about the company and how he thinks it should be ran (We’re not branching off into exotic dancing, we’re a manufacturing business, Tony). He would talk to Happy too, if he didn’t roll up the dividing window every time Tony opened his mouth. But talking to complete strangers, or a crowd? He better be getting something out of it.
Obie put a hand on his shoulder, steering him away from the bar. “No drinks until twelve.”
“Good to see you too,” Tony shrugged off the hand. “Didn’t know you were coming.”
“Yeah, well, Potts told me you didn’t read the guest list,” Obie took a sip of his own drink. “I expected better.”
“How much better?” Tony challenged.
“You’ve got a speech in a few minutes. Do well.”
Tony sighed, turning to the microphone. “I wasn’t aware.”
“You’re good at improvising. You know, your father almost put you in a few movies. Said you had the quick-thinking needed,” Obie informed him.
“Don’t believe that. A future in the arts would’ve made him keel over,” Tony said bitterly, watching as someone stepped up to the microphone and tapped it to make conversation stop.
“You’d be surprised; Howard was a good man,” Obie grinned sideways at him. “Now go make him proud.”
The man at the microphone said Tony’s name, and he climbed up on the raised platform, placing his empty champagne flute on a tray. He waved and smiled as cameras flashed, making circles appear in his vision, but he grinned and carried on, even though his heart was pounding in his chest. He was still seething over the conversation with Obie, but cleared his throat and surveyed the crowd.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, making a welcoming gesture with his hands, but he quickly brought them down when he realized they were shaking. “Is this a good party or what?”
Cheers littered the area, and Tony took the time to scan the crowd for a familiar face he could latch onto. He found Pepper’s face, and she nodded encouragingly.
“I remember my first New Years party. I was around, let’s say, seven? Eight? And my father, the late Howard Stark, showed me around. He introduced me to several important people, including some of you still here today. He showed me the importance of keeping strong relations with people who will undoubtedly help us in the future,” Tony caught Obie’s eye, who was smiling up at him. “Howard Stark was a good man.”
There were nods of agreement, and people raising their drink to his words. Tony gritted his teeth, forcing a strained smile. Howard Stark was a piece of shit in his mind, and it physically pained him to be telling everyone how great he was.
“Tonight, along with the New Year, we celebrate the bonds that my old man and I have maintained throughout the life of Stark Industries, whether it be through business, or dependency, or just plain ol’ friendship. This company wouldn’t be the same without all of your cooperation, and really; this party is for you guys. So get a drink, and toast yourself. It’s been a hard twelve months, and the next will be filled with opportunities to come. Now, let’s party into the New Year!” he concluded brightly.
His words were met with cheers and Tony hid a grimace at how cheesy he sounded. He twisted his face into a smirk instead, his gaze floating over the crowd and finding Hammer’s clearly intoxicated face. “Please; enjoy the bar. As Justin Hammer said, I only get the good stuff,” he winked at him.
Applause filled the air once again as Tony stepped down from the platform and the music started up again. He flinched when a hand grabbed onto his shoulder, then another hand grabbed onto his arm, and he walked quickly away. But there were always more grabbing onto him, and there were cameras flashing in his eyes so he knew he couldn’t act up, but he was ready to throw hands. Someone put a hand on his back right as he was about to lose it, and he whirled around.
“Don’t touch me,” he hissed, then his mind processed that he was looking at Pepper.
She looked him over. “Let’s get some air.”
He followed her outside, grabbing another champagne flute on the way. She brought him around the corner, the brisk, cool air a contrast to the overheated room inside. He grabbed a handful of snow and balled it up, letting the water melt down through his fingers, making him feel less warm and gross and calm.
“You okay?” Pepper asked, concerned.
“M’fine,” he said, squeezing his hand, making the snow melt faster.
“Do you need me to talk to anyone?” she offered.
“I’m fine,” he repeated, a little more forcefully. “It’s just stuffy in there.”
“They really shouldn’t be grabbing at you,” Pepper continued. “It’s rude. I can talk to them.”
“They don’t need to know,” he shook his head. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”
“No, seriously, it-”
“I’m fine, Miss Potts,” Tony stressed, gritting his teeth. “I just needed air.”
“If you wanted to leave early-”
Tony put up a hand, interrupting her. “I can’t. Tony Stark, womanizer, leaves party early with PA Virginia Potts? What does that look like?”
She was silent, chewing on her lip. Pepper was the master of the company, really; she had to have realized what a PR nightmare that would be. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d left early with a PA, but all of the other times, they had been for the reasons that the press thought. If he left this time, and the press thought wrong, then he knew he’d feel the blood-boiling anger that usually happened whenever the public made up lies, which made him want to either hide in his workshop for a solid week or go cause another disaster.
“I need a drink,” Tony mumbled, wiping his cold and wet hands on his face. He picked up more snow and held it to his forehead.
“You have one,” she pointed to the flute in his hand.
“More,” he croaked, clenching his fists. “How long until we can leave?”
“You’re Tony Stark. You can leave whenever,” she said.
Tony laughed coldly. “Only with someone.”
Pepper sighed, but she knew it was true. If he didn't want people to attack him, to know that hey, maybe Tony Stark doesn’t actually enjoy partying as much as the public thought he did, then he’d have to take measures. She didn’t realize it at first, because a lot of the things that Tony did produced a lot of paperwork and legal procedures, but all of his moves were calculated. He wasn’t impulsive; he actually thought a lot about his actions. Just the actions weren’t necessarily beneficial for the company, it was so that the public was as far away from the real Tony Stark as possible.
She went into her first day at Stark Industries thinking that she was going to meet the biggest asshole of her life. A few months and a few drunken nights later, she couldn’t have been more wrong. The loud, headstrong, impetuous man she thought she knew was actually a shield for the broken boy underneath.
“Give me five minutes. I’ll find someone,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes, the champagne flute buried in the snow. “S’almost twelve anyway.”
“It’s unhealthy,” Pepper pursed her lips, worried.
“It’s the only way,” he turned around, going back inside, his posture straightening and the usual cocky grin resting with practiced ease on his face.
--
Tony ended up leaving with Rhodey, convincing him to go bar hopping.
At one bar, Tony did shots off of a stripper, Rhodey watching him with a careful eye. Several blurry photos with red eyes from the flash were published online.
At another, they raised a glass to the New Year. More photos of a red-faced Tony being supported by Rhodey were put up on the web.
At yet another bar, Tony did shot after shot. A couple photos of him surrounded by girls were used by articles.
At the next one, Tony ended up behind the bar, mixing drinks, handing the bartender a fat wad of cash. The press was there for that one, too.
At the last bar, Tony got in a fight over something useless. A spilled drink on someone’s white shirt. A photo was taken of a beaten and bloody Tony Stark vomiting into a gutter.
--
“I don’t know why you do this to yourself,” Rhodey sighed, shoving Tony into the shower, clothes and all.
“S’New Year’s,” Tony slurred, his eyes blank, one eye bright pink and starting to bruise from the fight. “Lighten up a little.”
“You said that before,” Rhodey rolled up his sleeves, starting to strip Tony of his sodden and acrid-smelling clothes.
Tony closed his eyes, letting Rhodey handle him. There were no women here, no cameras, no drinks; just him and his best friend, who’d been with him through literally everything. He could let his guard down, he was pissed drunk, it was okay. He didn’t have to do this anymore. He didn’t want to do this anymore.
“Y’know why,” Tony let his head fall, resting on the cold, tiled wall. “Protects me.”
Rhodey massaged shampoo into his friend’s scalp, sighing sadly. “I really wish you didn’t do this.”
“Have to.”
“I know.”
Tony ended up getting tucked into bed by Rhodey, smelling like soap and mint. A pill was set by his bedside table, along with a glass of water. Rhodey stayed by his side until he had to leave in the morning, sitting groggily in the chair beside the bed until his watch beeped once, and he left the room, casting sad glances over at Tony's fitful, sleeping form. Tony dreamed of Howard all night.
And when Tony woke up, a raging headache pounding at his temples and his stomach in his throat, he was suddenly reminded why he hated New Year’s parties.
It was a desperate act to live up to Howard’s expectations.