AN:
Thank you guys so much for the reviews. Your feedback and enjoyment is a real encouragement for me to keep writing.
Chapter Seven
The third day wasn't much more interesting.
I woke early, watched the sun rise through sleepy eyes, stumbled into the kitchen in my pyjamas and made a bajillion stacks of French toast for everyone. They were pleasantly surprised, and we all engaged in friendly chatter. Thor scoffed down obscene amounts of food, leaving just enough for the rest of us.
The only people not to show up for breakfast were Tony and Bruce. So I filled two plates and went on my way.
When I made it to the lab, as I assumed they'd be there, I was only met with Tony. His back was to me and he was just standing there, looking at the sceptre, deep in thought. Knowing that he was having trouble with creating Ultron, I figured that he was taking out his anger by staring at the cause of his problems.
I moved both plates into one hand, and knocked on the bench beside me with the other. Tony turned around, and I saw the effects of his lack-of-sleep routine. There were big bags under his eyes, and said eyes looked glassy and slightly unfocused. His shoulders were slumped and his grey hoodie made him look like a street rat.
"When was the last time you got some sleep?" I asked, walking forward.
"Jarvis?" he said.
"Approximately 39 hours ago, sir."
I sighed.
"Well, I can't exactly make you go to bed, but I can make you take a beat and eat somethin'."
"I'm not hungry."
I walked right up to him and held the plate under his nose. He closed his eyes in bliss and I heard his stomach rumble. I put the plate into his waiting hands, and he walked to the bench without a simple thank you to begin eating.
Not hungry, eh?
I let him eat for a while before the question that had been bugging me came out.
"Where's Bruce?"
Tony, replied with a mouth full of food. "He wash fallin ashweep shtadin up, sho I shent im to bed at awoun four."
I tried to make sense of his jumbled words.
He was falling asleep standing up, so I sent him to bed at four…? I think that's what he said.
I checked the time on the wall, 9:54AM.
That's almost six hours of sleep. He'll be good.
"Where is he now?"
"In hish woom. Numbu fwee."
"Thanks, Tony."
I left him to his food.
I was outside room number 3 in the door-lined hallway, my last plate in hand. I knocked on the door and waited. No response. I knocked again, louder. Still nothing.
"Bruce?" I called. "Bruce, are you in there?"
Maybe Tony gave me the wrong room number and I'm actually knocking on an empty room's door.
Looking around, not having the guts to knock on every door, I turned to walk to my room, with every intention of just eating the toast for myself, but there was a thud behind me.
It sounded like somebody'd run into a wall, which they probably had.
I stood for a few seconds, listening to the kafuffle happening behind the door, until it swung open to reveal a half-sleeping Bruce with the buttons of his tousled blue shirt done up wrong and his grey sweatpants only half on.
As soon as he saw me standing there awkwardly his eyes widened and he quickly shut the door so there was only a small space in between it and the jam.
"Oh my God, Riley. I am so sorry. I-I thought you might've been Tony coming to bother me."
I chuckled at his sudden bashfulness. "I'm still in my PJs too. It's cool."
After a moment of fidgeting, the door opened again to show Bruce, this time with his buttons done up correctly and his sweatpants on properly.
"Hi."
"Hi."
"So, uh, w-what are you doing here?"
I held up the plate. "I brought breakfast."
His mouth opened as he spied the food. "Is that for me?' He asked.
I held the plate out to him. He looked down at it before looking back into his room, which I couldn't see.
"I'd let you in, but it's not really, uh, exactly clean."
I waved my hand dismissively. "It's okay, I wasn't expectin' an invitation. I just wanted to make sure you ate somethin'."
Bruce took the plate from my hands "Thanks."
"Hope ya like it."
I opened the door to my bedroom as I heard his door shut.
Good deed has been done.
I grabbed the jar of vegemite from the nightstand, and my book, which I was already halfway through, and jumped onto the bed.
At 5:30PM, I got off my lazy ass and started getting ready for this evening.
After a long, hot (did I mention long?) shower, I strolled into my closet wrapped in a towel.
The nicest things I had to wear was a white blouse and black dress pants.
There is no way in hell I am wearing dress pants.
So I decided on the one dress I owned.
It was knee length, long sleeved, the neckline stopped right after the collarbones, and the elastic wrapped under my breasts. The flowy material was black, with little pink flowers printed across the hem of the dress and the cusp of the sleeves.
In my opinion, it looked great.
It also hid the bruises on my shoulder, arms, left ribs, and of course, my thighs and hips. The bruises on my knees were only visible if I reached my hands up, the blotches up and down my shins were pretty obvious, and the one on the hand I'd used to shield my head was purple and stood out a lot, but it hurt the least badly.
Thanks a lot, stupid fucking treadmill.
I slipped black flats over my feet, then went to the bathroom. I brushed my teeth, brushed my hair, and then pulled it into a high bun, which took a little longer than I'd expected to accomplish neatly. I didn't wear any makeup, and even if I did own some, I probably still wouldn't wear it.
I checked the time. It was now 7:24PM and the party would be starting. With a bit of nervousness knowing what would happen tonight, I walked out of the bedroom.
Let's do this.
