It’s a couple of months before Steve manages to drag him to another Superhero Shindig—

(Yes, they have an official name.)

(No, he doesn’t care)

—and if he maybe-possibly-perhaps spends an extra moment to remember exactly what he wore last time, well… no one has to know.

Steve doesn’t give him a second look other than to clap him on the shoulder and say he looks swell, while Clint just ribs him for the way he’s rolled his left sleeve up an inch to show off his assets and Natasha purses her lips in thought and reaches out to adjust his collar.

It’s Tony who notices — of course it’s Tony who’s notices, why wouldn’t he? The man grew up with parties like this — but all he does is narrow his eyes, give him a once over, and then smirk like he’s figured out every secret James has.

(It’s maybe a bit more intimidating than it should be.)

(Just maybe.)

The venue this time is a fancy hotel, the sort that makes James’ skin itch at the sheer amount of wealth on casual display, and it doesn’t take long before the main ballroom starts feeling a bit claustrophobic with all the people crowded together. Especially combined with the lack of a certain Japanese hero or his team.

James scans the crowd again, trying not to be obvious about it, but he still can’t see that familiar head of bright orange hair anywhere. He spots heroes from all over the world, and even a few from outer space, but not the one team, the one person, he’d hoped to find and speak with.

(He’d thought— he’d thought Ghost Patrol was on the RSVP list.)

(It’s about the only reason he finally gave in to Steve’s pestering.)

(Damn!)

James’ phone buzzes in his pocket, distracting him from his rising despair, and he pulls it out with a soft sigh and a touch of amused exasperation; he expects to see a text from Steve urging him to mingle, or maybe Clint sending him memes to take his mind off the crowd, or—

He frowns down at his screen, wondering why Tony’s sending him a text in the middle of a shindig. The man’s a master at multitasking — and probably bored as hell by the two suits that’ve cornered him already — but usually he bothers Steve. Steve’s much better at rescuing Tony from boring talk than James will ever be.

His phone buzzes with another message from Tony, which makes James snort: clearly, Tony really wants his attention for some reason, so he might as well check.

Hell, maybe it’ll even be something good.

Tony: Ghost Patrol late bc magic bullshit villain of the week.
Tony: They’ll b here soon
Tony: Say hi to loverboy for me

James blinks down at the messages, then lifts his head to scowl at Tony. The news about Ghost Patrol is welcome, but there’s nothing between him and Ichigo, and Tony should know that!

James: He ain’t my loverboy.
Tony: Eh, give it time
James: You sure you wanna start? Cause I got a couple pics Stevie might wanna see.
Tony: Hey, hey, you PROMISED!!!! No takebacks!
James: Huh, did I? Guess I must be gettin old, cause I don’t remember that.
Tony: Now THATS unfair
Tony: I give you good news, you threaten me
Tony: How dare, how DARE u, sir

James snorts at Tony’s dramatics, types out a quick ‘I dare much’, and then flips to Steve’s chat window and types, ‘Think Tony might want a save soon,’ without a single hint of shame. When he tucks his phone away and looks up, Steve is already wading through the party towards Tony, and Tony is giving James a look of betrayal.

His phone buzzes again. Again. A third time.

James just grins, gives Tony a mocking little salute, and turns away: if Ghost Patrol is on the way, then he wants to be near the door when they arrive. Ichigo said that he didn’t enjoy the gatherings, so maybe… well…

He kind of hopes that seeing him will make Ichigo feel a bit better about things.

(He also just wants to assure himself that Ichigo is fine.)

(Surely if they’re showing up after a ‘villain of the week’ then everything is fine, but he just… worries.)

(He shouldn’t, but he does.)

It’s hard not to look like he’s lurking, but James does his best: he leans again the wall near the door, crosses his arms over his chest, and settles in to wait.

(He’s good at waiting.)

(…usually…)

Time drags on. Slowly. Painfully. Until James feels like surely, surely half the evening has already passed, no matter what his phone says. Anxiety crawls under his skin, making him want to move, to fight, to do something other than remain still against the wall — what if Ichigo’s hurt, what if things went poorly, what if Ichigo isn’t coming — until he squeezes his eyes shut and lightly thumps the back of his head against the wall.

He presses his metal thumb against his other wrist. Uses that and the wall as a ground point. Pries his eyes open and stares up at the tile overhead, counting bumps and using that to time his breathing.

By the time he hears the door swinging open, he’s feeling calm enough to rock his head to the side to check who’s entering.

The first two people through are two women, one with hair as bright as Ichigo’s and the other with short black hair. James eyes them in an attempt to figure out who they are: he doesn’t actually think he’s met these two women, but something about them seems familiar—

Ichigo walks into the room right after, with another black haired man at his side, and behind them comes a tall, hulking man with wavy brown hair.

(Ghost Patrol.)

(That’s Ghost Patrol.)

James straightens up, committing the other four members to memory — he doesn’t quite remember their names, but he’ll look them up later — and then—

Ichigo’s gaze lands on him, sweeps over his form in a search for anything familiar, and then lands firmly on the exposed bit of James’ metal arm. His expression practically lights up, warm-bright-appreciative, and he peels away from the rest of his group without a moment’s hesitation.

“Ichigo, get back here!” the black-haired man hisses, bright blue eyes narrow behind sharp glasses. “Just because your boytoy is waiting for you doesn’t mean you get to skip out immediately!”

“Sorry, who’s the leader here?” Ichigo shoots back over his shoulder, then comes to a stop in front of James and says, “Ignore him, he’s just jealous.”

James groans — what is with people insisting they have something going on? — and runs a hand over his face. “S’fine,” he mumbles in exasperation, then huffs when Ichigo gives him a concerned look and adds, “Tony said ‘bout the same. Called you my loverboy when he was telling me that you were on your way.”

Ichigo sighs and glances up at the ceiling as if praying for patience. “People are busybodies,” he declares, loudly enough that his lurking team all hear him, then makes a ‘see what I mean?’ expression when several of them snicker in response.

The black-haired woman rolls her eyes and turns away, flicking a hand at Ichigo as she does. “Yeah, yeah, we’re pests, you’re tired of dealing with people today, we get it,” she says, tone warmer than her words. “Go on and spend some time with your friend.”

“Thanks, Tatsuki,” Ichigo says, then tips his chin towards the door he just walked in through. “Want to go find someplace quiet to hang out?”

“Yeah, yeah that sounds good,” James hastily agrees, stepping away from the wall and towards the door. The chance to get out of the crowded ballroom and spend time with someone he actually enjoys the company of is… good. Exactly what he’s been hoping for, actually.

“No idea where, but there should be somewhere to go around here,” Ichigo adds as he falls in step with James. “And I can tell you all about the latest absurdity in my life.”

“Lookin’ forward to it,” James tells him with a faint smile, ignoring the way his phone once more buzzes in his pocket; the only people who have his number are in the room behind him, anyway, so it’s probably just more teasing from Tony.

He’ll read the messages later.

For now… for now, he just wants to enjoy his time with Ichigo.

Everything else can wait.