Boats Against the Current
Chapter One
It was the worst time of year.
He had always hated this time of year.
Twinkling lights and falling snow, music in the streets and carolling at every door. He hated Christmas. He always had.
This year was no different, in fact, this year was probably worse. He had found a family in the Avengers, finally had people occupying his tower that weren't just employees and those there for business. They weren't just his comrades, they were his friends; and they all had somewhere to go during the festive season.
Tony was alone.
He always had been.
Pouring himself a glass of scotch he appraised New York City through the gargantuan windows of his penthouse. The snow fell from the sky, littering the panes like cosmic duct and the lights of the city seemed exceptionally bright. He supposed it had something to do with it being Christmas Eve.
Tony Stark took in his surroundings and decided that he just couldn't be bothered to try tonight. He didn't have it in him. He would drink until he slept and he would swathe the tower in black, vowing to make it as invisible as he so clearly was.
"JARVIS," he called.
"Yes, Sir?"
"Shut down the tower. I want everything off." He didn't need to worry about the repercussions of the shutdown. Tony had ensured that all of his employees weren't working on Christmas Eve, and they sure as hell weren't working in Christmas Day either. It was a time for family, and just because he didn't have any didn't mean that his employees had to suffer for it.
The tower was totally empty. He was the only one who occupied it and he wanted to do so in the dark, to fall asleep on his couch gazing out the window, hopefully with some alcohol buzzing in his veins.
"Sir?" JARVIS interrupted.
"Hmm?"
"I am unable to follow your order of total system shutdown of the tower."
Tony sighed, of course he would spend his Christmas Eve fighting with someone who wasn't even real. "And why ever not, JARVIS?"
"Because there is someone currently occupied in one of the lower levels, Sir."
"What?" Tony asked stupidly. It was late in the evening, probably nearing eleven o'clock, who in their right mind would be working in his tower at this time of night on a festive occasion? Unless…
"Is it a threat?!" Tony jumped, ready to call one of his suits if need be.
"Definitely not, Sir."
"Not?" Tony queried, his stance relaxing. "What then?"
"An employee of yours, Sir."
"Impossible, I ensured that everyone had the night off."
"As far as I can glean, Sir, she is here of her own accord."
"She?"
Suddenly, unbidden, a holo-image of the tower relaying the woman's location appeared in front of him.
"In case you would like to address it, Sir."
Tony swore he heard a smirk in his AI's voice
#*#*#*
Eventually, nosiness had won out, and Tony exited the elevator on the floor that JARVIS had specified. Her office was easy to find, given that it was the only open doorway that displayed illumination and he found himself peering around the door in the most childish way.
He was shocked when he saw her. She was young, so young, but the eyes that were transfixed on the computer screen were not. They looked hardened, beautiful still, but wary in a way that spoke of having seen too much. It was difficult to get an accurate representation of her features, given the harsh glow of the computer screen, but she was obviously pale and her hair was long and thick, brown, just like his own.
She had yet to notice him, her earphones in her ears playing music that he wished he could hear. Occasionally her hand would move, that small, fragile thing would tap on the keyboard or guide the mouse, but mostly she read.
He hadn't realised how long he had been standing there, how long he had been staring, until he found himself leaning against the doorway, arms casually crossed in front his chest. He was about to say something, gain her attention or make a grand entrance when she saw him out of the corner of her eye.
The reaction was loud, uncontrolled and, frankly, completely comical. She flew out of her chair in fright, earphones ripping out of the computer and sending her toppling off balance. The poor thing tried to save herself, tried to grab anything within her reach to prevent her descent onto the floor, only she managed to grab at a stack of papers sitting on the edge of her desk, the sheets flying into the air like confetti and falling around where she now found herself sprawled on the carpet.
Shocked, she looked up at the intruder, breath halting in her chest when she realised who it was.
"Hey, there." Tony intoned, his smile devilish and his eyebrows waggling in suggestive, good humour. Her only response was to maintain her posture, her stance defensive, until, finally…
"Mr Stark," she said breathlessly.
He simply stared at her, enjoying her discomfort far too much.
"I… uhm…" She scrambled to her feet and began capturing all of the falling sheets, mumbling apologies as she did and doing everything in her power to avoid making eye contact with him.
He bent down and picked up the final sheet, coming eye-to-eye to her smirking once again, all teeth and relentless mirth.
She shot up and snatched the paper from him, returning the sheets to their rightful place on her desk as she mumbled her thanks. She stood, staring at the ground and shifted uncomfortably from foot-to-foot. Finally, she gained her courage and looked up.
"Is there something I can do for you, Mr Stark?"
"Yes, there is actually," he answered cheerily, stepping around her office and taking note of the possessions she had stashed about the place. He raised his eyebrows when he noticed the presence of some Star Wars paraphernalia but chose not to acknowledge it. "You can answer a question."
Her eyes widened but she said nothing else, fearful that she was about to get in trouble.
"Why are you here?" He asked.
Clearly uncomfortable, she fidgeted where she stood and mumbled her answer. "I work here."
His eyes narrowed. "Yes, but why are you hear now? Late at night, on Christmas Eve?"
She looked up at him and he could tell that she was grappling with her answer, trying to decide whether she should speak the truth or not. She sighed and then shrugged her shoulders, a weak attempt at nonchalance. "It's better than being in an empty house at Christmas, I suppose. At least here I can distract myself."
He was surprised by her answer. "Don't you have family to go?"
"No."
He was going to make a sarcastic comment, maybe joke and ask if she didn't have a boyfriend to report to or some friend that she was standing up, but he could tell that he had struck a nerve; it was obvious in the sadness of her eyes that she was trying so desperately to hide. Maybe he wasn't so alone after all.
"Well," he said, cheerily, "there's no point in drinking alone since you're here."
"Wha –"
"To the penthouse!" He hollered. "Happiness and festivity awaits!" It sounded sarcastic even to his ears and he grimaced at the false cheer. Taking a more restrained approach he called to her over his shoulder.
"Come on," he said simply, making his way to her office door.
"I really shouldn't," he heard her mumble from behind him. Tony turned around and looked at her deeply. She looked so small in that office, drowning amongst the furniture and the technology, even her clothes seemed to drown her though she wore them well. She looked lost, hesitant… afraid, and so damned young.
"One drink," he said in earnest, his voice taking on a definitive tone of sincerity. "Please."
Tony Stark was a master manipulator, but he wasn't playing any games now. He didn't want to be alone and, maybe, he thought, she didn't really want to be alone either. He pleaded with his eyes and let the silence beat on. He could see her tension, he could see her struggle but he could also see her indecision – he had her on the ropes and all she needed was one final push.
"Please," he said again.
"Okay."
#*#*#*
He was smug, there was no denying it. The way he pranced into the elevator and held the doors open for her spoke volumes. He guessed that he was just happy. His night didn't seem to be so dreary now, even though his newly found counterpart looked like she was ready to spook at any second. She walked with as much speed and grace as a toddler taking their first steps, wringing her hands in front of her and biting her lip.
Tony guessed that 'anxious' didn't even begin to describe how she was feeling.
"You know," he said, voice careening down the corridor and causing her to jump. "I would tell you to hurry up, that Christmas is coming, but…"
It had the desired effect; she sped up her pace and quickly hopped into the elevator, leaning against the wall furthest away from him. He tried to not be offended by that.
Silence followed them as the elevator ascended, and she trailed after him out of the square box and into the penthouse. Tony smiled to himself when he heard the sharp intake of breath. The penthouse really was a sight to behold.
"Make yourself at home," he waved to her, going straight towards the bar for a much needed drink.
She took a few steps into the living area, where some couches were clustered about a coffee table and where the view of the city was the most magnificent. The young woman stood awkwardly, rubbing her arms in a self-soothing gesture and stared out the window – her awe was palpable.
"Here," Tony said, appearing behind her. He pushed a tumbler of scotch into her hand and guided her to sit.
"Oh, I… uhm… I don't drink," she said hesitantly, peering at him through her lashes as if expecting some form of wrath or reprimand."
"Suit yourself," he said simply and went to sit on the couch opposite her, lifting his feet and crossing them to rest on the coffee table. "Though I do think it would be to your benefit to at least give it a go. You're so tense I think you could give even the most qualified master masseur a run for their money."
She looked down quickly and appraised the drink in her hand. She hid behind her hair but he knows that he saw a ghost of a smile. Slowly, carefully, she brought the tumbler to her lips and took a sip. Her face screwed into a grimace when she swallowed and she coughed as the burn made its way down her throat.
"Ugh," she exclaimed, bringing the back of her hand to her mouth, eyes now watering from the burn in her chest. "That's vile."
"Hey!" Tony exclaimed, pretending to be affronted but actually enjoying the spectacle in front of him. "I'll have you know that's my best scotch."
"Oh," she said quickly, gripping the glass tightly and running a hand through her hair. "I… I'm sorry. I –"
"Relax," Tony said, letting out a smile chuckle. "What? They don't have jokes where you come from?"
"I guess not," she mumbled, bringing the tumbler to her mouth for another sip.
"Actually, where do you come from?"
"All over," came her immediate reply and he couldn't help but feel that it was a somewhat rehearsed. Sensing a sore spot Tony decided to let it lie… for now.
Quickly, she looked away and appraised his bookshelf on the far wall with interest. It was miraculous, floor to ceiling, the entire wall being covered in shelving with books strewn haphazardly all over the place. She looked back at Tony quickly, eyes all but begging for permission and he waved his hand in the direction of what she considered to be a collection of national treasures.
"Go ahead."
She didn't need to be told twice.
Hesitant but eager, she rose from where she was seated on the couch and treaded silently towards the shelf – tumbler gripped tightly in her hand.
One gaze at the tombs nestled on the shelves and she was lost. He had everything on there: old books, new books, fiction, non-fiction, academic texts and even what appeared to be collectors' items. She ran her fingers across the spines until her hand stopped abruptly, one title easily having caught her eye.
She set her tumbler down and pulled the book from its place, an original copy of "Le Petit Prince" written by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. She smiled longingly and flipped the cover, gasping at what she found written on the first page:
Pour Howard,
Merci pour tout.
Ton ami,
Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
The author's elaborate signature lay beneath the short excerpt and she ran her fingertips over it, disbelief that this was physically written by one of her favourite authors.
"Take it," she jumped when she heard his voice, right behind her as he watched her cautiously.
"I couldn't –"
"Sure you could, all you have to do is make sure it goes with you when you walk out the door. See? Easy."
"But… it's addressed to your father-"
"Take it or leave it. The choice is yours."
Carefully, she put the book back, right where it was meant to be on the shelf. She could never take such a precious item from someone's possession – especially when it was obviously so personal. She grabbed her drink and looked up, finding Tony watching her.
This time, when she brought the tumbler to her lips it wasn't for a sip; she gulped the amber liquid down like a student on a dare at a frat party. Normally, he would express his displeasure at having such fine liquor squandered like that with no appreciation for taste, but he was relieved that the tension that had been built up had been abated. He also thought to himself that things might just get interesting if she kept on like that, so he decided to refill her glass as soon as it was empty.
Things certainly did get interesting after that.
*#*#*#
It only took about an hour for them to degenerate into a drunken, childish, laughing mess – or maybe he was the drunken, childish, laughing mess but she had certainly had her fill; a fact easily seen in the flush of her cheeks and the more relaxed stance.
Tony had challenged her to a game of pool, she had tried to refuse, he had coerced her and now they found themselves playing their third game – and he was losing spectacularly.
"How are you so good at this?" Tony asked as she sunk the eight ball, a slight hint of annoyance tainting his voice.
"Beginners luck I guess." But her smirk completely belied the answer.
He pulled a face, a petulant scrunching of his nose and upturn of his mouth that gave him a look of total disgust. Unfortunately, she only noticed his expression as she took another mouthful of scotch, snorting on her laughter and all but choking on the liquid as some of it spurted from her lips.
She clapped her hand over her mouth in horror, her eyes wide and her face flushing even redder than it was before. It was silent for a beat, then two, and then the two of them suddenly exploded into fits of laughter.
She couldn't believe what she had done. She had made a total fool of herself and in front of Tony Stark no less. Thankfully, he appeared too drunk to care, finding humour in her debacle rather than judgement.
"That'll clear your sinuses," he choked out and the two of them started laughing all over again.
"Please," she whispered, breathless from laughter and stomach aching. "Pretend that never happened."
"Absolutely not!"
She groaned but gave him a smile. "I wish there had been music playing or something so that you wouldn't have heard it." Her hand came to rest on her forehead and she shook it in disbelief, humiliated by her faux pas.
"That is a very good point! Why is there no music?" He looked at her like she knew the answer, like it was in her control whether there was music or not.
"I don't know. It's your building. It's your apartment. You're the one who decides whether there's music or not."
"You say that like I'm God."
"Well in this building you are."
Tony threw a smile her way as he walked over to the system. "Can't argue with that," he said simply," and then switched the system on to whatever radio frequency it was channelled to.
Loud and obnoxious Christmas carols blared cheerily from the impressive system in the apartment and the two of them groaned audibly; Tony hastening to switch the system back off before glaring at it in distaste.
"There is a reason why I avoid Rockefeller Centre at this time of year."
"It can be that bad surely?" She chuckled, sipping from her tumbler.
"Of course it's that bad. You live in the city; you know what it's like."
Guiltily she chewed her lip and looked down at the expensive carpet beneath her feet.
"Wait a minute; you've never been to Rockefeller Centre?"
She shrugged, shuffling nervously from foot-to-foot.
"Like, ever?" He asked incredulously.
"I guess I just never found the time," she said, smiling sheepishly.
Tony brought his fingers to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose, contemplating. He was probably going to regret this.
"Get your coat."
"What?" She asked in surprise.
"I said get your coat, we're going to Rockefeller Centre."
She gaped it him quizzically. Unfortunately, she had learned enough in the last few hours to know that she was not going to be able to speak him out of something like this once his mind had been made up.
"I don't have a coat."
"What do you mean you don't have a coat?"
"Aren't you supposed to be some sort of a genius or something? I mean what I mean. I don't have a coat."
"Whatever," he said, striding towards what she assumed to be a closet by the door. "You can have one of mine," and he threw one at her where she stood across the room, hitting her square in the face.
"Ow," she exclaimed, but there was no mirth behind it. Truthfully, she was excited to be going to Rockefeller Centre. She was excited for what else this night had to bring.
When she next looked up she saw him at the bar once again, only this time he was pouring his scotch into a hip flask with a devious, shit-eating grin on his face.
"Are you serious?" She intoned, disbelieving yet totally unsurprised all at the same time.
"What?" He asked in mock innocence, capping the flask and putting it in his pocket. "It's cold outside; we have to keep warm somehow."
"Isn't it past time you behaved like a mature adult?" She joked, following him to the elevator and walking inside when he kept the doors open for her.
"Oh honey. If you knew me well enough you would know that I'm not a mature anything."
She couldn't help but giggle at that one.
#*#*#*
The walk to Rockefellar Centre ensured the continuation of their shenanigans. Tony couldn't seem to take more than five steps without drinking from his hip flask, and he ensured that she matched him one-to-one whenever he did.
"Keep on like that and you'll find me passed out in a ditch on Christmas morning," she laughed, feeling warm from liquor and laughter despite the freeze of the air.
He snorted. "Been there, done that. It's about as much fun as you would imagine it to be."
"It doesn't sound fun at all."
"Exactly."
They continued on and made their way cheerily. Sometimes there was silence and sometimes there was raucous laughter, but either way the darkness of the night didn't seem so terrifying, the loneliness of a Christmas spent in isolation did not exist. Tony smiled to himself. For the first time in a long time he was happy. He was content, and it certainly helped that he wasn't getting admonished for his bad behaviour for a change. He smiled broadly at that thought and was so caught up in the notion that he didn't immediately notice that his counterpart was no longer at his side.
He turned quickly and saw her standing a few paces behind him. Her face was pressed dangerously close to a shop window and in its reflection he noticed tear-filled eyes.
"What is it?" He asked, backtracking to stand behind her.
"It's nothing," she said, though she was unable to tear her gaze away from a certain piece of jewellery – a locket that looked to be far older than either of them were. "I just didn't think that it would still be here."
He furrowed his brows in confusion and looked up to appraise the name of the shop. It turned out to be one of New York City's more reputable pawn shops.
"Whatever," she said quickly and took the flask from his hand, taking a larger than necessary swig. She then spun on her heel and determinedly walked away, not once looking back. Tony stole one last glance at the item in the window before he turned away and caught up with her.
"Easy, easy," he said when he reached her side, grabbing the flask from her hand as she gulped down its contents desperately. Tony easily masked the action with humour and a wink. "Can't have you out mastering the master now can we?"
She rolled her eyes at him and smiled – all traces of her earlier tension gone.
It seemed as though they happened upon Rockefeller Centre suddenly after that, though the slight wobble that modified each of their steps spoke otherwise. The young woman was blowing into her hands, breathing life into numb fingers when she looked up and saw it – stopping dead in her tracks and gazing up at the mighty tree; monumental in its size alone.
Tony watched her with interest and a certain element of fondness – though he would only realise it later. The tree was a colossus, and every possible branch and bramble jutting out of its base was covered with some or other Christmas decoration or bit lighting. It stood tall above the famous ice rink, the ambience of the twinkling lights reflecting on the icy surface
Personally, Tony found the entire thing to be extremely ostentatious and obnoxious; though he supposed that made him a complete hypocrite, given that everything he did was ostentatious and obnoxious.
His younger counterpart appeared to be mystified, enamoured and awed at the sight before her. The lights danced and reflected in her hair and her eyes; her pale skin blending with the snow to the point where she took on an ethereal and mystical quality.
Tony really wanted to kiss her.
It was only now that the thought formulated itself in his mind that he realised how lonely he had been for the last few years. He hadn't kissed anyone since Afghanistan. Just imagine what the press would have to say about that one: "'Playboy' Tony Stark – billionaire extraordinaire who hasn't been kissed in at least four years." What a winning headline.
As much as he wished that it was in his control he just couldn't help it. Things had changed when he had endured what he fondly referred to as the 'kidnapping/torture/hostage' debacle. His life had changed. He had changed; though very few people seemed to realise it.
The young woman puffed out a sigh and wrapped her arms around herself, the cold finally getting the better of her. She turned and thanked him for bringing her here. Thanked him for helping her see the iconic beauty of the city that she lived in.
Her nose was red from cold and her cheeks were flushed. He really, really wanted to kiss her. But he wasn't like that anymore. People deserved better. She deserved better. She wasn't one-night stand material – she was hold fast and never let go material. He liked to think that he deserved better than fleeting flings as well. Tony Stark would never admit to it, but he wanted something genuine. Something that was real. Anything else was simply a waste of time.
"Alright," she said, pulling him from his reverie. "It's time to call it. I'm going to lose a limb to frostbite if I don't get indoors soon." She turned to him fully and gave him a genuine but shy smile. "Thank you for everything, Mr Stark. It was really wonderful." She nodded friendlily to him and turned to walk away.
"Where are you going?" He asked her retreating back.
"Home?"
"Yes. I got that, but where is home? I'll walk you."
She smiled at him sadly. "It'll be quite the walk, Mr Stark."
"I can't just let you walk around New York City alone so late at night."
"Technically, it's very early in the morning."
"That's even worse," he said. He wasn't trying to be cocky. He wasn't trying to 'go back to her place'. He was legitimately concerned for her well-being and couldn't, in good conscience, let her traipse through the city in the early hours of Christmas Day, half drunk and practically screaming 'easy target'.
"I'll walk you home," he said resolutely. "I don't care how far it is".
"You're willing to walk nine miles?" She laughed.
He gaped at her. "You're willing to walk nine miles? Where in holy hell do you live?"
"Well, I was going to take the subway part of the way there..."
"You are not taking the subway at this time of night."
"Morning."
He glared at her. "I'll have one of my cars drop you off."
"Uh-uh," she said, shaking her head. "The last thing I need is one of your expensive cars driving me through my neighbourhood and placing a glaring, neon target on my back."
"What exactly is your neighbourhood?"
Her eyes narrowed and her cheeks flushed, not from the frigid air that suddenly seemed so much thicker, but from embarrassment.
"Look," Tony said. "It's late –"
"Early-"
"It's late, we're drunk and it's Christmas Day. It's not safe for you to walk… catch a train… whatever it is that you plan to do to get to wherever the hell you live that's nine miles away. Come back to the tower with me. Please."
She took a step back from him. "I –"
"I'm not propositioning you," he amended quickly. It would appear that his reputation preceded him. "It's an invitation and it's also a request. Please. I won't have any peace of mind otherwise, and you'll end up with me tailing you the entire way home if you choose to go now."
"You really are used to getting your way aren't you?"
He kicked some of the snow beneath his foot and relished the crunch before he answered her. "I'm not doing this for me. Well, not entirely." And there it was; that shit-eating grin.
It had been a long time since someone had cared for her well-being like this. In fact, Tony Stark was probably the only person who had cared for her well-being like this in her entire life.
She looked at him and she contemplated. He looked at her with the utmost sincerity and concern in his features. He wanted her to be safe. That thought warmed her from the inside out.
"Okay," she said.