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"You've been staring at him the entire time you've been here," Bucky appears suddenly and dramatically in Steve's face, "Just go and fuck him already."
"I-"
"I know you're going to deny it," he continues. "But fact is, you're a tasty piece of shit, Rogers. If I were gay, you'd be bending me over a table right now. But I'm not, so you have to go and do that to your soon-to-be billionaire lover over there."
Steve can't do anything but stare in horror, mouth unpleasantly dry from alcohol and speechless from his friend's outrageous words. He wants to yell at him to get out, but all he can muster is, "Am I really that obvious?"
In return, Bucky just stares at him like those are the stupidest words ever spoken in the history of questions. Without further ado, he turns around to exit the club, running a hand through shoulder-length black hair that twists over his neck. Along the way, a sexy redhead joins him, placing a hand on his arm, which is folded to accompany her, as they leave. It nearly looks coordinated.
"What the fuck," Steve mutters, staring down at his drink, because he's alone and afraid and jealous of Bucky's ability to bring home any girl he wants any time. Meanwhile, he's sitting at the bar alone. Alone, and pining over a damn celebrity who hasn't even glanced at him yet, and definitely doesn't have to, what with girls and guys lining up to him.
He looks up again. That redhead really was good-looking.
"A scotch for this young man- drink's on me," announces a voice from above, and then there's a warm hand on Steve's shoulder. He glances up to find a familiar face looking fondly at him, and the cheap multicolor disco lights shining down on them seem that much brighter. It's so loud and Steve can barely hear over the din of screams, shouts, and couples making out in corners, but everything seems to fall away except Tony.
"I've been ogling you all night," Tony cocks his head, grinning. "Haven't you noticed?"
"Me?" Steve manages, flustered and surprised beyond hell. "I've been staring at you all night really obviously. Or, at least, that's what my friend told me."
Tony shifts his body towards him a little. "Why didn't you come talk?"
"Because you're- you're famous, and surrounded by girls, and I'm just-" he gestures wildly with his hands, as if that would clarify anything.
"Good point," he replies, and his breath is warm on Steve's face. "I'm not into 'em, though. You, on the other hand..."
A warm blush rises on the blonde's face. "Come on," Tony whispers, curling a hand into the curve of Steve's face, "Let me take you home, stranger."