Tessa glances down at her empty mug and frowns. It's only ten and already she's downed three cups of coffee, her hands jittering so badly that she has to tightly grip the sides of her chair to keep the tremors from migrating up her arms. But despite the nervous energy coursing through her body, her mind feels very much asleep – almost numb – after having spent the last several hours bouncing back and forth between the labs.

She spent last night at the apartment in the Tower – a thing she'd been doing more and more over the last few weeks. And that gave her the opportunity to do something she very rarely got to do anymore – hit up the labs before anyone else arrived.

For Tessa, there was something singularly comforting, utterly satisfying, and just plain rapturous about being able to work away her worries and cares. Especially if she was able to do it in a state-of-the-art laboratory that she could call her own, which for all intents and purposes, she could rightfully say of the labs in the Tower. Those few hours of blissful, uninterrupted work officially marked the highlight of her week thus far. It had been so relaxing and distracting that she didn't even care about the fact that she now had to power through the rest of her day on little more than three hours of sleep.

The truth, though, is that no matter how much she may have wanted to go in early, she really had things that she needed to do in the labs today. Things that she had to do alone, in fact. That's what got her out of bed at quarter after four this morning, when the rest of the Tower was still dead to the world. She simply needed to be alone.

And lately that seemed almost impossible to achieve.

She knew, of course, that running a division of Stark Industries would be a tremendous time suck. And frankly, when she accepted the job nearly a year ago, she'd had no qualms about increasing her workload. But what she hadn't realized then was just how different this work would be.

Most of her time now is spent sitting in front of a computer going over reports, rather than doing the experiments needed to compile them. In place of endless hours spent in the lab, meetings have become her new norm. She teleconferences daily with people in Seattle, in Seoul, now at a new satellite office in Jakarta. When she does manage to leave the sacred space of her office, she's met with fellow scientists and techs pulling her in a million different directions. If she wanders too far from the labs, members of the board somehow seem to find her and commence breathing down her neck, looking for near-constant status updates. And no matter how she tries to avoid taking outside calls or getting manipulated into any more meetings, the sudden influx of curious visitors from across the globe hoping to pick her brain somehow always manage to make it into the schedule.

The schedule.

Tessa's life, it seems, now belongs to the creator of that schedule, her assistant, Claire. For years now, Claire has been among the most important, least dispensable people in her life. Without her, Tessa would have no idea what to do when. She wouldn't know which meetings to attend, nor what the agendas would be. She wouldn't know who was trying to get ahold of her… nor how, when, or why. Lately, Claire had even taken to reminding her to eat, tossing a banana at her in the middle of the day or slipping protein bars into the pockets of her lab coat (though she suspected this new routine was at the behest of her often fretful fiancé). The truth is, Tessa probably wouldn't even know what day it was – or what time – if Claire wasn't there to inform her.

Which is precisely why she's trying so very hard right now to wake her brain up enough to take in everything – or at least somethings – that her assistant is currently rattling off.

"Tonight, you have dinner with Drs. Cho and Han who are in town from Seoul. I confirmed that Mr. Stark will be joining you. And he said that he will also be able to make the trip out to Seattle on Thursday to meet with you and the new king of… Wakanda," Claire wrinkles her nose as she stumbles over the unfamiliar name, but quickly recovers and continues to ramble on as she flicks down the schedule on the screen of her tablet. "You have a five o'clock with a representative from the British Ministry of Defense. But you're free until then."

Tessa raises her head off the back of the office chair and gives her a curious look. "Free? Until five?"

She nods, a peculiar and suspicious glint to her eye. "Well, Ms. Potts did ask that I work her in."

Her head drops heavily back to the chair as she lets out an exhausted groan. "She was probably sent by the board with a cattle prod."

"Would that make you move faster?" Tessa hears, the voice lighter than Claire's and harboring an amused cadence. She looks up and sees Pepper standing in her doorway with a wide smile on her face. "I promise I'm not here on behalf of the board. In fact," she starts, moving slowly into the room. "I'm not here on business at all."

Tessa's brow furrows as she watches Natasha and Wanda both follow the tall blonde into the office. "Hi," she drawls out, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. "What's going on?"

Claire flips off her tablet and turns to leave, stating, "I'll have the conference room set up for your meeting by four," before ducking out.

Natasha, ignoring Tessa's question entirely, slips past the other women and begins stalking about the room. "So this is your office," she intones, roaming blithely as her fingertips flit along the shelves. "Fancy." She stops in front of the picture of her and Tessa, carefully pics it up to take a look.

"Aw," Wanda chimes from over her shoulder. "That's cute. Where was that?"

Nat shrugs. "One of Tony's parties probably." She flips the picture around towards Tessa. "Do you know?"

Before she can answer, Pepper jumps in with, "It was Tony's birthday a few years back. I think it was the first party that Tessa came to after starting work here." She steps over to the women and takes the frame from Natasha's hand, puts it delicately back on the shelf, adjusting it slightly to make sure it's positioned just right. "Come on, ladies," she says then, an enthusiastic authority to her voice. "We have an appointment at eleven and a car full of champagne waiting for us."

"Okay," Tessa states loudly as she finally rises from behind her desk. "What are you talking about? What's going on?"

Wanda steps over to her excitedly, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "We're going to find you a wedding dress."

000

"I don't understand," Pepper says, confused pout pulling at her features. She looks over at Tessa and sees her head bowed as she fervently types away on her phone. "You really haven't made any plans? None at all?"

Natasha elbows Tessa hard in the side when she fails to answer – "Ow." – and swipes the phone out of her hands. "Hey!"

"Pepper asked you a question," she says, quickly placing a glass of champagne in her friend's now empty hand and tossing the phone into a cup holder on the opposite side of the spacious limo. "You don't want to be rude."

Tessa swivels to look at Pepper, shoving her glasses haphazardly up into her hair. "Sorry," she mumbles amid a sudden yawn. "What?"

She shakes her head sadly as she gazes at the exhausted, preoccupied woman in front of her. "You and Tony," she intones softly, pausing just long enough to issue out a tsk tsk. "You two think that work is life."

She lets out a long, labored sigh. "I don't think that," she argues blandly. "Things are just a bit crazy right now, in case you haven't noticed."

"Oh, I've noticed," she states, arching a single, perfect eyebrow. "But in case you haven't noticed, life is still going on… all around you. And if you don't step out of the lab and your office to see it, it's all just going to pass you by."

Tessa's brows knit together as she glances furtively at her friends, all three sitting with glasses of untouched champagne in their hands, looking at her with varying depths of concern in their eyes. "I…" she stumbles a bit, not entirely sure what to say, her fatigue-addled mind still working to play catchup. "I just… I'm really busy right now."

Pepper nods solemnly. "I know. Believe me, I know. But…" She drops a single delicate hand to Tessa's knee and offers up a small, placating smile. "When was the last time you even saw your fiancé?"

Again, her brows twist in confusion. What an odd thing to ask… she lives with the man. She sees him all the time. Everyday. Or… "Yesterday," she responds. Then, lips parting slightly, eyes drifting a bit as she loses herself in thought. "Or… maybe Tuesday?"

Wanda issues out a short scoff from the seat across from her. "Today is Friday."

The look on Tessa's face is utterly comical, her forehead screwing up even tighter. "Huh," she mutters simply. "That's…"

"Maybe we should've kidnapped her for a vacation instead of just an afternoon of shopping," Natasha states before gulping down her champagne and grabbing the bottle for a refill. "Or a sabbatical."

Pepper gives her an incredulous look. "I want her to get some balance in her life, but we can't do without her for that long right now." She swings her head back around to face Tessa. "Now," she starts, clapping her hands together excitedly, the loud noise causing the half-awake woman by her side to startle and jump. "We're not going to talk about work. We're not going to take any calls or answer any texts. Not for the next few hours. And I know you know that's hard for me too. But I'm going to do it… because today is important." She smiles brightly at her friend and the look itself is almost enough to cause Tessa to stop staring so longingly at her phone.

"Okay," she agrees lamely, shifting her gaze back up to Pepper. "Wedding dress…" She nods, her expression a rather humorous mix of fatigue and confusion.

Wanda sets down her champagne and shifts anxiously across from them. "But how can she pick out a dress if she doesn't even know anything about the wedding?" she asks with a tight scowl. "They have no plans."

"I honestly figured you'd elope," Nat mutters.

Tessa's shoulders drop as she admits, "I'm not entirely opposed to that."

The edges of Natasha's lips quirk up. "But Steve won't allow it?"

"I think he'd be okay as long as he got to be there," she says with a shrug before scooting back into the soft leather seat and folding her leg up beneath her. "But… a wedding might be the only chance I get to see James dressed up and clean shaven. At least, I think I can talk him into that."

"Plus," Wanda starts, hopping across the car to loom over Natasha's shoulder. "We'd all like to be there." She gives her an oddly challenging look. "I mean, if Steve gets to be there, we all should, right?"

Pepper sips at her champagne, contented smile crossing her face as the sound of Tessa's soft chuckle fills her ears. "It is your wedding, though," she states simply. "If you want to run off and elope, we can always just throw a party for you two later and celebrate then."

"The hell we can," Natasha states, shooting the blonde a dangerous glare. "We get to be there. We're family."

The light smile begins to fade from Tessa's face. "Are we?" she mutters, tone painfully hesitant.

Nat turns her glare on the brunette at her side. "Yes. We are. No matter what."

It's not an absurd question to ask, of course. While things had started to feel a bit more normal around the compound lately, mostly due to Tony's crazy schedule keeping him out of Steve's hair, it was plainly obvious that the rift created by the Accords proposal wasn't going to heal any time soon. If anything, it seemed to be slowly growing into a deep, dark chasm.

Wanda and Vision were barely speaking, communicating mostly with guilty, furtive glances exchanged in the halls. Natasha was torn between wanting to investigate the UN attack with Steve – because that was obviously the right thing to do – and the nagging need to keep her word to Tony and everyone she spoke to the day of the Accords ratification. Bruce's opinions on the need for oversight seemed to change daily based on his mood, a thing that was making Tony and Natasha both positively livid. Bucky and Sam spent their days keeping their heads down, struggling to remain impartial as everyone around them – including random adjacent personnel with far less stake in the matter – worked to convince them to take a side. And Clint… Clint was still sticking to his guns about retirement.

As for Tessa, if she were to be totally honest with herself – which, granted, is not something she has much desire to do – then she would have to admit that work is only part of the reason she's been spending so much time away from the compound. It may technically be home, but right now, it doesn't feel much like it.

"You know what," Pepper interjects calmly. "I'm adding all of that to the list too. No work, no interruptions, and no stressing about the Accords or anything related to them." She turns to look Tessa dead in the eye, a thoughtful stare boring into her. "I have a very important question for you," she says slowly, methodically. "Do you see yourself as a princess bride or a more understated bride?"

Natasha barks out a quick, loud laugh – the sound so unexpected and uncharacteristic that all eyes turn on her with amused shock. "A princess?" she snorts. "Come on."

Tessa holds back a snigger and covers a building smile with a put-on pout. "I could be a princess if I wanted to be."

She raises a single challenging eyebrow at her friend. "Just for that, I'm making you try on a ballgown. And I'm taking pictures. So many pictures."

"I'd rock a ballgown," she says with a cocky lilt.

Nat reaches up and plucks the glasses from her friend's head, gently disentangling them from her hair. "I've no doubt," she mutters before asking, "When was the last time you washed your hair?"

Tessa frowns dramatically, her hands immediately coming up to the haphazard knot of curls on her head. "Why?" she asks, reaching around to loose the strands. She struggles with the rubber band, tugging out a small chunk of hair as she mutters, "Is it that bad?"

"It's fine," Wanda states. "Don't listen to her." She hands Natasha her glass and moves around to the other side of Tessa. "Let me," she says, slapping away her friend's hands and combing her fingers through her hair. Tessa leans back into the gentle touch, wincing only once when Wanda snags a particularly tight tangle. "Now, then," she starts as she begins to easily braid the thick tresses. "About this wedding that we'll all be invited to… where's it going to be?"

Tessa shrugs. "I don't know."

"What about when… summer, fall, winter?"

Another shrug. "Probably one of those."

"What about the guestlist?" Natasha interjects. She shoots her a curious glance. "Will your family be invited?"

Without thinking, Tessa flicks her eyes over to Pepper. She's aware that the woman knows a bit about her… knows that she's a mutant, at least. Tony had mentioned long ago that he told her about it so she'd be prepared in case anyone found out and questioned how Stark Industries could be oblivious to a mutant in their midst. And Tessa had been okay with that at the time, mostly because Pepper actually drew up a nondisclosure agreement of sorts that both she and Tony signed stating they would never reveal her secret. But even though she knows that Pepper knows, she really has no clue just how much Tony's told her over the last few years… or even just over the last few months.

Pepper catches the awkward glance, her face softening as she asks simply, "Have you talked to them lately?"

She remains silent, shaking her head no.

"Do they know about the work you're doing right now?" she asks soberly.

Tessa pulls in a deep breath, tired eyes opening wide as her brows shoot high. "Probably," she issues out with a second, tight breath. "They know I work at Stark Industries. They know I'm a geneticist. And because they don't live under a rock, I can only assume that they know about Tony's well-publicized announcement." She offers a dismissive shrug just as Wanda finishes securing her hair in a tight braid. "So… probably."

Natasha releases a loud huff. "Guess we should add that to the list of things we're not allowed to talk about today."

Wanda shoots her a dirty look. "You're the one who brought it up."

The Widow doesn't respond, instead simply dropping her head a bit as silence fills the car.

"Well," Wanda breathes out after a long, awkward moment. "We just have to find a dress that's either princess-y or understated, will work in any venue or locale, fits with either a big wedding or an intimate gathering, and can be worn in any season. Shouldn't be too hard. Right?"

000

The shop really isn't that far from the Tower, but in Manhattan midday traffic, it takes them nearly an hour to get there. And by the time they arrive, they are suspiciously all out of champagne. No one is drunk of course, Pepper was careful not to pack that much booze so early in the day. But everyone is definitely feeling far more buoyant than they expected after the tense beginning to their outing.

"What about this?" Wanda asks, holding up a sleek ivory gown with a variety of shining crystals and beads sewn into the bodice. She flexes her wrist as she holds the dress out and wrinkles her nose. "It's heavy."

Natasha shakes her head – "No beading. Too distracting." – and pulls a puffy knee-length number off the rack instead. She turns to face Tessa, holding the dress up to her chest to show it off. "Fun, but pretty. Plus, floor-length gowns hide your shoes. And we all know you're gonna want amazing shoes."

Tessa stifles a snicker, crooked smile perking her lips. "I don't know," she intones, gazing down the length of the dress.

"Then that's a no," she states, turning to shove it back in the rack.

"Perhaps I could help," the slight, older woman who was tasked with being Tessa's consultant pipes up from behind. She had been enthusiastic at first, eagerly asking Tessa what she was looking for – I don't really know – and when the wedding was – we haven't actually set a date yet – and what sort of theme or location they'd decided on – ummm. But as she was trying to get any ounce of direction from the bride to be, the other women began to tear through the small boutique. She'd tried to stop them once from pulling dresses themselves, but Natasha had turned on her with a terrifying sort of fire in her eyes and she backed down immediately.

"Maybe we should start small," Pepper interjects, sensing that – just ten minutes into the appointment – they were already on the brink of chaos. She sits down beside Tessa on the giant plush sofa and says, "I thing we all know that princess is not actually on the table. But were you thinking about puffy at all, or are we just looking for sleek?"

Tessa's lips pinch together, her eyebrows quirking curiously as she tries to think of a response. Truthfully, she had no idea. She'd never really even considered what kind of wedding dress she'd buy, always assuming that if she got married at all it'd be a quick justice-of-the-peace-type ceremony where no fancy attire was required.

Pepper senses her hesitation – her confusion – and she smiles softly as she reaches out to delicately pat her friend's hand. "Don't put so much pressure on yourself," she says, barely a whisper. "We're just here to try on some pretty dresses. And if you find something you like, great. No pressure. Okay?" Tessa nods and releases a sharp breath. "Okay. Now, sleek or puffy?"

"Sleek," she answers quickly, accenting it with a decisive nod. "Or…" Her face melts again into a sort of uncertain frown. "I don't know."

"No ballgowns," Natasha states, stepping in front of them with an armful of dresses.

"I thought you wanted ballgown pictures," Wanda teases. "For blackmail, I assume."

Natasha soldiers on, unfazed. She knows Tessa well enough to know that if they don't find her a dress today, she might never make it back into a boutique to buy one. Not unless they kidnap her again, that is. So they need to get this right. "Elegant, but not over the top. Unique, but not… weird. Sleek, yes, but something she can still dance and move in. And nothing strapless."

Tessa snaps her fingers. "Yes. That."

"Why no strapless?" Wanda asks with a frown.

"She'll just spend all day worrying about it falling down," Nat replies before turning to Tessa and dumping the load of dresses in her lap. "Here. Try these."

"But…"

She shakes her head and lets out an exhausted sounding sigh. "Just try them on. Then maybe we can get closer to figuring out what you like."

Hesitantly, Tessa rises from the sofa and carries the heavy armful of gowns into the large dressing room where Martha – the seemingly inconsequential consultant – leads her. Actually, Martha turns out to be the biggest help of all. There's no way she'd be able to figure out how some of these dresses even go on, let alone zip them, button them, and clip them into place on her own.

And Martha gives her actual guidance and critiques for each gown she slips on. While she receives notes like, "That is hot," from Wanda on the far-too-form-fitted first option, Martha is quick to point out that, "It may be difficult to dance in this one. And you don't look particularly comfortable."

"I'm not," Tessa says with a grimace as she squirms in an attempt to adjust. "This corset is poking me."

When she comes out in a long, lightweight silk sheath with a thigh-high slit, Natasha is the first to raise an assessing brow and spout, "Forget the first one. That is hot."

Tessa spins around to glance at herself in the mirror, earning a sharp intake of breath from Pepper when she does so. "That back," she enthuses, staring at the open, draping back to the gown.

Natasha lets out a short chuckle. "And you thought your ass wasn't amazing. That dress is made for that ass."

Tessa stares at herself long and hard in the mirror. "Yeah," she mutters, pleased by the reaction but still oddly frowning at her reflection. "But I feel… cold."

Martha chuckles and directs her back to the dressing room, telling her once they shut the door that, "It's okay to save sexy just for the wedding night."

The next dress is an ivory and lace A-line with a V so deep she's afraid that if she sneezes a boob will fly out. She stares at herself in the mirror before leaving the room, muttering to Martha, "Is it possible my friends think I'm a prostitute?"

Martha offers an amused smile as she asks simply, "Is there anything about this that you like?"

Tessa chews her lip as she assesses her reflection closely. "I like the lace," she says after a long moment, her fingertips gingerly brushing along the fabric at her hip. She pinches the lightweight skirt and pulls it out, watches as it falls back into a delicate, flowy drape around her legs. "I think I like the skirt too. Not too tight. Not too puffy."

Martha orders her out of the sexy dress and helps her into another – a simple A-line with a sweetheart neckline and lacey cap sleeves. Tessa's expression is noticeably different when she walks out in this dress, a relaxed smile pulling at her lips in place of the confused frown.

"That's lovely," Pepper offers, her eyes shining in something akin to pride as she takes in not just the dress, but the far more comfortable and confident woman standing before her in it.

Natasha rises from the sofa and slowly circles Tessa, cocking her head assessingly. "It's nice," she mutters. "But it's not… you."

"I'm not sure what that means," she issues out vaguely.

"It's too simple," Wanda says, a sly grin on her face. "You are anything but simple."

Tessa turns to face her reflection, the uncertain frown returning to her lips. "I wear a T-shirt and jeans almost everyday. It doesn't get more simple than that."

"That's what you wear. But that's not you," she replies with a knowing wink.

Nat sidles up alongside her, gazing pointedly in the mirror for a long moment before turning to face Martha. "More lace, maybe? Or tulle?" She narrows her eyes at the unadorned bodice. "And this neckline is too high."

"I almost fell out of the deep V you picked out," Tessa tells her with a scoff.

She steps closer and pinches the top of the dress to pull the center down into a small plunge. "Doesn't have to be deep," she mutters. "Just…"

"What do you think about the color?" Wanda asks, approaching from the other side. "Do you like the pure white?"

Pepper steps over as well, all of the women now studying their her reflection closely. "Your dark hair looks beautiful with the white," she says slowly, reaching up to pull the thick braid over Tessa's shoulder to illustrate her point. "But I think your skin tone might be better suited to the ivory."

Natasha's eyebrows rise teasingly as she states, "I don't think you can get away with wearing any shade of white."

"Natasha!" Pepper quickly chides, glancing over at Wanda who has a hand raised to her mouth to stifle her laughter.

"Actually," Tessa starts, not at all offended by her friend's attack on her purity. "I don't really like white. Like at all. I never wear it."

Martha steps in front of the women, a wide smile on her face and a glean in her eye. "I think I know just the thing," she states, taking hold of Tessa's wrist and guiding her back to the dressing room before disappearing into the back to pull another dress.

Tessa says nothing as the consultant tugs the bodice of the gown closed in back, clipping it in place. "This one's a size too big, but it fits well enough for you to see," she tells her. Shifting her around so she can see the back, Martha points out that, "It buttons up, no zipper. But that gives a lovely, delicate look on top of the lace paneling." She sweeps her fingertips over the lace that covers Tessa's shoulder blades, stretching from midback where the bodice halts up to the base of her neck and spreading out over her shoulders into dainty cap sleeves.

She turns back around to face herself head on. The skirt is nothing but light, airy tulle with large lace appliqués falling down from the tightly cinched waist like flowered vines. The neckline, while coming down in a V, is just deep enough to show a swath of skin between her breasts. But because it rises up into the caps that cover her shoulders, there seems to be no danger of revealing too much. She smiles as she reaches up to pluck at the lacy flower appliqués that lay atop the bodice and line the dress from the tops of her shoulders down to the bottom of the V. Then she reaches down and runs her fingers along the skirt, flipping the lightweight tulle about and watching as it softly settles back in place.

"What do you think?" Martha asks.

"It's pink," she mutters simply, still captivated by the dusky blush color of the dress. "I don't really like pink."

"Oh," Martha replies, her tone a bit dejected. "Well, we do have it in ivory – "

"No!" she shoots out, a small giggle spilling from her lips just after. "No. I… I love this."