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Aug. 3rd, 2018 06:40 pmTony Stark had an odd relationship with birthdays. He always had, but he hadn't even celebrated his own publicly since the incident of his 39th birthday, and for years after that, he'd simply thrown a private, casual affair with whoever was available, between Pepper, Rhodey, Happy and the Avengers. The last two years at home had mostly been dinner, alone or with Pepper, before falling asleep and spilling blush wine on the settee.
Actually, it was about the same in Darrow.
He could throw a damn good party for someone else, of course. But those damn good parties, they'd never been for a sixteen year old. That was something else entirely.
Tony'd thought about doing something embarrassingly over the top, because he was Tony. But he couldn't top a magical ice castle. It wasn't happening. And Peter had also asked him nit to make a big deal out of it. So that's what he would do.
There was no way he was just going to skip a party altogether though, even if Peter wasn't the fall-asleep-and-spill-wine-on-the-settee type. So Tony sent out emails to everyone he knew he ought to, surprise party for Peter, invite whoever else needs to come, etcetera.
And he got everything ready on the sly.
The day of, as Peter had asked, it was an understated affair, just a few tables for food, and drinks, and gifts, and cake, covered with a powdery blue set of linens, with pale grey napkins, and actual white dishware from storage downstairs, because they were still going to be on top of Panoptes and the building still had a self-imposed waste limit. Also, that shit was classy.
There were fruit arrangements and crudite trays, cheese, cold-cuts and sandwich rolls with fixings. Bottles of sparkling fruit juice on ice in bowls, joined by cans of cola and water. Ice cream in three flavors, chocolate, vanilla, and black raspberry. The selection and presentation seemed to be a settlement between two different tastes, as gracefully as possible. Tony might have preferred canapes, but Peter preferred hot dogs.
And there was the cake, of course. Half chocolate with vanilla buttercream, half almond white cake with apricot filling and chocolate buttercream. A slick, expensive, fondant-and-luster coated thing, three tiers high in dark, muted blue with red ribbons. On the side, a large 16, on the top, a spray of white fondant stars on sugar crystal filaments.
(Tony had requested the cake not have any non-edible elements. Tony hated when food had non-food structural involvement or garnishes.)
Party lanterns decorated the seating area by the pool. The roof's waterfall installations trickled quietly.
Tony had told everyone to arrive and be ready for six o'clock that evening.
Satisfied there weren't any last minute SNAFUs, he left to gather up Mr. Birthday Boy himself.
Actually, it was about the same in Darrow.
He could throw a damn good party for someone else, of course. But those damn good parties, they'd never been for a sixteen year old. That was something else entirely.
Tony'd thought about doing something embarrassingly over the top, because he was Tony. But he couldn't top a magical ice castle. It wasn't happening. And Peter had also asked him nit to make a big deal out of it. So that's what he would do.
There was no way he was just going to skip a party altogether though, even if Peter wasn't the fall-asleep-and-spill-wine-on-the-settee type. So Tony sent out emails to everyone he knew he ought to, surprise party for Peter, invite whoever else needs to come, etcetera.
And he got everything ready on the sly.
The day of, as Peter had asked, it was an understated affair, just a few tables for food, and drinks, and gifts, and cake, covered with a powdery blue set of linens, with pale grey napkins, and actual white dishware from storage downstairs, because they were still going to be on top of Panoptes and the building still had a self-imposed waste limit. Also, that shit was classy.
There were fruit arrangements and crudite trays, cheese, cold-cuts and sandwich rolls with fixings. Bottles of sparkling fruit juice on ice in bowls, joined by cans of cola and water. Ice cream in three flavors, chocolate, vanilla, and black raspberry. The selection and presentation seemed to be a settlement between two different tastes, as gracefully as possible. Tony might have preferred canapes, but Peter preferred hot dogs.
And there was the cake, of course. Half chocolate with vanilla buttercream, half almond white cake with apricot filling and chocolate buttercream. A slick, expensive, fondant-and-luster coated thing, three tiers high in dark, muted blue with red ribbons. On the side, a large 16, on the top, a spray of white fondant stars on sugar crystal filaments.
(Tony had requested the cake not have any non-edible elements. Tony hated when food had non-food structural involvement or garnishes.)
Party lanterns decorated the seating area by the pool. The roof's waterfall installations trickled quietly.
Tony had told everyone to arrive and be ready for six o'clock that evening.
Satisfied there weren't any last minute SNAFUs, he left to gather up Mr. Birthday Boy himself.
