Taste of Apples
Summary:
My name is Lexi Roux. I am twenty-years-old and because I am just that awesome, I just recently graduated from Universite Paris Sorbonne, in Paris, France. I never expected my life to change so drastically after the death of my parents. I never really expected to have to put my life on hold, my Tante Maria telling me that my parents had been agents for some S.H.I.E.L.D. agency.
I guess Tante Maria never explained to these...Avengers, that I have what people call Synethesia. Every voice carries a taste. Every touch carries a sound.
Now, if I could just get the taste of apples out of my mouth and ignore the soft whispers against my skin.
Author's Note:
Lexi Roux is of my own creation. She is twenty years old and incredibly talented in Fine Arts. She also suffers from what is called Synethesia, which is where the brain confuses some of the sensory triggers. Voices cause her to taste flavors, music causes her to see metallic-shaded colors (compare it to the visualizers for ITunes or Media Players) and anything she touches she hears sounds. This doesn't effect her normal senses; sight, hearing or smell, it might sound confusing, but it won't seem so odd when you read on. She has been living in France for many years, so she uses some French terms, but did grow up in America so her first language is English.
Because I absolutely adore Tony Stark (there are so many different sides to Tony that makes him so...delicious), this will be a Tony/OC story.
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Avengers, or anything in relation to Marvel. The plot and Lexi are completely my own.
Enjoy!
Chapter Three
Nectarines and Strawberries
Metallic-red bleeds through my mind, a bright angry flush of deep-seeded red (illuminated brightly, but otherwise dark hue) as the angry, spitting lyrics of 'Wait and Bleed' by Slipknot pierced through my eardrums. Having long ago curled up on a chair located on the terrace, my entire focus is trained solely on the heavily detailed sketch of Tony's facial profile. The first three days of being around Tony had been enough to hinder me with a constant, splitting headache. The two days that followed, the headaches had turned to minor pressure every now and then. It has been easier though, over the past four days. I am now able to withstand extended conversations around Tony, with minor, sharp pains due to the pitch of his voice (when he is arguing with Steve, or excited about some break-through).
I find Tony, despite the sour-apple bite of his voice, to be quite charming. It isn't often people, especially men, find my outlandish attire to be anywhere near beautiful. It is nerve-raking to be honest. Despite his 'beautiful mind' thought process, when he is speaking to you, you know you have in undivided attention. He shows no pity toward the difficulties of others, but instead tries to help the person work through them. He is blunt and honest to a fault. He doesn't judge based on first impressions, having stated that first impression are often fake and hides a person's true personality.
"Miss Roux," the music cuts out as Jarvis's metal-flavored voice filters along my taste buds, "I apologize for interrupting, but Captain Rogers and the others would like to see you in the upstairs conference room."
"Thanks, Jeeves."
"I assure you, my name is Jarvis, not Jeeves."
"If the shoe fits," I quip back playfully, grinning as I uncurl myself from the chair and stand up, stretching my arms over my head as I leave the terrace.
"What a highly illogical thing to say," Jarvis's voice pauses, "I don't even wear shoes."
Finding my way into the conference room, my grin fades at the sight of two strangers among Tony and the others. Both were obviously, in a very painstakingly manner, taller than my own petite size. The red-haired woman carried delicate features, her blue-green eyes staring back at me with an overly-assessing glance. Her figure with curvy, but lithe- showing obvious signs of flexibility and fluency in her movements. The man standing next to her, slightly taller but similar in age, carried a slight more upper-body muscular physique (the rest of his figure lean and taut with tightly corded muscles). His hair seems to stand on end, as though he doesn't really bother to tend to it, and was a dark golden-blonde color. His eyes appear to be a startling blue, though a shade or two darker than Steve's.
"Lexi," Steve greets warmly, "This is Agent Natasha Romanoff and Agent Clint Barton. Clint, Tasha, this is Lexi Roux, our house-guest."
Clint greets me with a small, but warm grin, "Nice to meet you, Lexi. The guys have said nothing but good things about you."
"When we find something bad about her, you'll be the first to know," Tony quips.
"Let it go, Stark," Natasha interjects before giving me a slightly tight-lipped smile, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Roux."
It's a fucking fruit salad! I bite back the desperate urge to vomit at the various change of flavors. Natasha's voice, while soft of sound, carries a subtle taste of wild strawberries. Clint's...peaches. My eyebrow twitches. No. Sweeter. Much sweeter than peaches, but of the same variety. Nectarines. Sweet and supple. Throwing both of their flavors and mixing it with the potent sour-pucker flavor of Tony's voice, I can already feel a headache brewing.
"Please, call me Lexi," I say, giving Natasha a pointed look, "and it is nice to meet you both as well. I have heard little of you both, I'm afraid, but what I have heard has all be good."
Both of them seem slightly surprised by my words. The nature of my Synethesia allows me to know people on a slightly personal level. While various people carry common traits with their flavors (i.e. the sourness of Tony and ma Tante, the sweet-spicy flavors of Bruce and Steve), the individual flavor alone seems to reflect personality traits. Bruce's flavor, due to the 'Other Guy', is the most obvious of a reflection. Steve is pretty much home-bred, boy-next-door-who-you-introduce-to-parents, but his instinctual flip from Steve to Captain America (the soldier) is only slightly less subtle than Bruce. Tony is completely his own person. The sourness of his voice reflect a deep-seeded emptiness buried beneath a more appealing subtle sweet taste (his natural charm and charisma).
So, I smile, despite the fucking fruit salad dancing along my senses, "I have heard through many S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, Steve and the others that you two are the agencies best pair of mercenaries."
Natasha refuses to respond, though I'm not surprised. Strawberries, while being revered as one of natures sweetest delicacies, are known to have their own subtle bite of sour. Nectarines, on the other hand, are all around sweet. Deep-seeded, with a hidden pit that is always hollowed out before eaten, but the flavor never falters from its potent sweetness.
"Yeah...well," Clint pauses, obviously not used to such words so often, "We do what we can to make up for things we've done."
My smile softens more, "If I may, what area of your...uh...work," I ask, due to a lack of a better term, "do you specialize in?"
"Marksmen," Clint answers, slowly opening up more, "I prefer a bow and arrow to guns though."
"Clint is one of the best marksmen S.H.I.E.L.D. has to offer. I've never seen him miss a shot," Steve adds, and I watch Clint smirk awkwardly at the praise.
Hm...odd. Clint seems to be a man that would pride himself on his ability, but something...more lingers behind his gaze.
"How about you Natasha? What are you good at?"
Natasha glares slightly, "Killing people."
I blink in shock. Not of her killing people, but for the unwarranted hostility. Perhaps, my questions are of a sensitive nature for her.
"Agent," Tony intones, picking up on the red-head's tone as well, his apple-flavor voice permeating my senses once again, though the warning in his tone is clear as day, "Agent Romanoff is a skilled combat-trained mercenary. She doubles as a spy, as well."
An awkward smile tugs at my lips as I shift in discomfort, "That's impressive, Ms. Romanoff. I'm sure the Team is better due to the addition of your skills."
Mon Dieu! I can't believe the words that just left my lips. I can tell from the slight chuckle from Tony and the sudden hardening of Natasha's features, my words came out the wrong way. I glance away, never having been the type for confrontation.
"Your sarcasm is less than desirable," Natasha quips curtly before turning to Steve, "Alright. We've met the civilian Fury wants us to babysit. Can we go get settled in now?"
Receiving a slightly hesitant nod, Natasha turns and leaves the room, with an awkwardly-grinning Clint in tow. I blink. To be honest, meeting a couple of mercenaries could have gone worse. I am instantly thankful for the sleeves of my shirt as a hand gentle rests on my shoulder. Startled at the touch, my gaze snaps up to stare into the light blue eyes of the Captain.
"I apologize for Natasha. She-"
I shake my head, giving a small smile in response, "She reacted in a manner that isn't understandable. I don't like being thought of as someone who needs to be baby-sat, but I am not upset."
"Really? Agent Romanoff wasn't exactly being pleasant," Tony points out.
Licking my lips as the sour pucker of his voice hits me once again, I shrug, "I'm not bothered. It would have been strange if she had been so...welcoming instead. I find it hard to believe anyone trained as a mercenary, anyone that lived the life she must have gone through, would be anything less than stand-offish."
Tony and Steve seem surprised, but Bruce's brown eyes gleam with understanding, "You have quite the impressive skills of observation."
"I think of it more as understanding human nature," I answer, "It will most likely take a while for Ms. Romanoff to feel comfortable around me."
After the conversation is over, I leave the three Avengers to debate among themselves and go in search of some coffee. Getting the coffee started, I sigh, rubbing the bridge of my nose once again. This is definitely not going to be a pleasant experience. I had grown so used to be allowed certain... leeway while at school. I had been allowed to use music as a way to combat the voices of other students. Music simply is easier to process that voices, especially after growing so used to the vocalists of the bands, their flavors registering subtly.
"Fucking apples," I curse under my breath.
"Apples?"
Sweet, sweet Nectarines, I shudder as the heavenly sweet flavor floods over my taste buds, before glancing up at the sight of Clint Barton standing in the arch way of the kitchen area. He doesn't seem as though he is completely comfortable, and despite his slight hesitation on coming to me, I simply cannot dislike, or ignore, the sweetness on my tongue.
I smile softly, "My brain, running too fast for the rest of me to comprehend at times."
Clint grins slightly, "So, your brain has something against apples? Is it all apples, or just...certain ones?"
"No," I respond promptly, "I like apples. One of my favorites actually," I struggle to keep the heat back as it threatens to flood across my cheeks, "It can be an overpowering flavor though, depending on which apple."
Clint nods, and despite the awkwardness of the situation, he accepts my offer of coffee and takes a seat at the counter-top island, "I...want to let you know not to take Tasha's words to heart. It isn't that she doesn't like you, because she does respect the hell out of Agent Hill. Tasha just...doesn't think our team should be watching over a civilian. We don't exactly lead safe lives, and putting you under our care can put you in danger."
As Nectarines tingles along my senses, I soak in his explanation and I nod, "I assure you, I wasn't offended. I wasn't attempting to be sarcastic either. Natasha is a woman that carries a strong sense of duty, from what I hear, and I don't want her to feel obligated to spare my feelings. Hell, I don't want any of you protecting me. I just...really don't have much of a choice at the moment."
"Yeah, well, Tasha and I aren't...used to being around civilians," Clint remarks, before smiling, "So...I like the streaks. Are you one of those Raver-kids?"
I giggle at the insinuation, "No. I like green. I'm an artist, and as such I feel self-expression shouldn't be limited to just my artwork."
"Well, you sure know how to work the individualist front," he states, causing a slight flush to form over my cheeks.
Again. It isn't everyday a person like me gets compliments. I shift, awkwardly. Due to my condition, I'm not exactly the most sociable person. I only ever interacted with my dorm-mate and teacher, but beyond that, it has always felt...well...awkward.
"Uh...thanks," I murmur, looking away from his blue gaze, "So, what do you guys do for fun around here?"
"Well, Tony and I have been trying to get the Cap'n up-to-speed on modern-day society, so we sometimes have movie nights. Any preference?"
"I would...prefer a lack of horror movies," I respond, "and I'm not exactly the romance-movie-watcher either. Romantic-comedies maybe, but none of that 'fall hopelessly in love' crap they push on the masses."
"Action flicks?"
I grin widely, feeling the awkwardness fade, "Action flicks. Animated movies. Comedies."
"Favorite movie of all time?" he shoots out suddenly.
"The Nightmare Before Christmas," I retort just as quickly.
Clint's eyebrows knit together, "That stop-animation shit?"
"Hey! I'll have you know, that shit is really time-consuming and for someone to actually make a full-length feature film while doing it, it's an impressive display of artistic prowess and immeasurable imagination. Hell, it took me forever to attempt making a quick short film doing stop-animation. Definitely not an easy task," I argue.
Clint's arm raise as a pathetic attempt of self-innocence, "Hey, to each their own, right?"
"Oui," Catching sight of the time, I groan inwardly, "If you don't mind, I should probably head off to bed. Um...it was...nice talking to you, Clint."
"Yeah. You're not so bad either, I suppose," he replies in mock-arrogance.
Giggling slightly, I wave goodbye as I leave the kitchen. Retiring to my room, I immediately gather my sketch pad and work on finishing the finer details of Tony's profile. Slipping in my ear-buds, 'Master of Puppets' by Metallica pierces through my mind, the sound echoing a dance of metallic-red. Cracking my knuckles, I pick up and pencil, squinting slightly as I begin applying facial hair with dark strokes with the very tip of the pencil point.
Alright, that's it for this chapter. A bit shorter than the others, but I felt as though trying to drag it out would only hinder the chapter more. Before I get any flames, I figure Natasha isn't the type to believe the Team is best suited on protecting civilians. What? With the missions they go on, the enemies they make and how public their heroics are. I thought it over, and while Lexi is obviously not offended by her response toward her, Lexi can read people to a certain degree. Not perfectly, but enough to make a decent judgment call of character. I plan on working out a way for Natasha and Lexi to grow close, but unlike Clint, who is straight-forward, I've always felt that Natasha watches people more than joining in conversations. She isn't quick to befriend people, due to her history.
Now..for my awesome reviewers!
Ravenclaw Slytherin: Thanks again!
Carly Carnations: Man, are you a mind-reader or something? When I finished the last chapter, I was already beginning to process bringing Clint and Natasha into the story for this chapter. Thank you very much. Your praises are blush-worthy, but alas, it is difficult to get such a response from myself.
watergoddesskasey: -lol- I am very pleased you are enjoying the story so much. Yes, trying to put a decent adjective toward her Synethesia is difficult, without trying to sound negative. Lexi does not see it as a negative, but it does pose problems with her on a social level, hence why she sarcastically refers to is as a 'condition'. No biggy! Thank you!
yourshowingoffagain: I must say, to know that you aren't a huge fan of OC stories, but had taken the time to read my own, makes me quite proud. Yet another blush-worthy praise. Thank you. I too adore Pepper, but for my story to fall together she is more friend/sibling to Tony. I don't want to play her out like the bad-guy, like many stories I've read, because Pepper is too...freaking nice! -lol- Anyway, thank you for your review, it did make me smile!
katielee97: I am very glad you are enjoying it thus far. Thanks for reviewing!
To my adorable selection of (mostly) shy followers, thank you! You know of who you are! I appreciate the silent kudos to the story!
Until next time!
