What I don't like about office Christmas parties is looking for a job the next day. - Phyllis Diller
Tony had been planning this since Saturday. He had never turned down the chance to throw a wild party, and Stella's birthday was no exception. He did this for employees he liked, and he supposed that he had to like her by default (even if he did secretly think she was kind of okay; anyone who could get Bruce to open up must be something else).
Getting people to come to the party wasn't the issue. As soon as he put out word of his endeavors, he knew that partygoers would flock in droves to his shindig. Money, obviously, was no object. A venue – another glaring inevitability.
No, the big issue would be figuring out how to get Stella to stay at the party – and how to get Bruce there at all.
Pepper –in all her natural brilliance- came up with the idea to not make it so wild a party. This was an idea that Tony threw in the trash from the get-go. It was not a Stark party until there was a police investigation and at least fifteen cases of alcohol poisoning. Tony couldn't just abandon his reputation.
Instead, Pepper came up with another, more acceptable solution. A small, quiet party to begin with earlier in the day, complete with maybe a few of Stella's family members (tracking them down would be fairly easy). Later, pull out all the stops.
One of the clinching guidelines of this proposal was that Tony was allowed to be as showy as he wanted, which was something that Pepper hesitated to consent to. Letting Tony do whatever he wanted? That was disaster waiting to happen. If that was what made him consent, though, then Pepper was willing to do damage control. She was particularly good at that by now.
However, Pepper had to have Tony explain exactly why he was so determined to throw Stella a big party. After a long stream of sarcastic dribble and many snarky quips, Pepper boiled it down to the sheer fact that Tony was simply being his usual egotist self, even if it was, perhaps, fueled by generosity.
Pepper was not so naïve to think that he was simply doing this out of the goodness of his heart. Tony loved to find occasions to throw parties. He threw one for every department head's birthday, but Stella had technically only been employed for a week. Pepper knew that was good enough for him, but there was something else. Pepper knew it was a plot to bring Bruce out of his shell. That was most likely what it boiled down to.
Tony had spent a good portion of the last couple of weeks dragging Bruce around from lab to lab, all but begging him to go outside of the tower. He offered the reluctant scientist tickets to plays, which was the tamest thing Tony could think of. He'd offered to take Bruce to the biggest lab in New York, which Bruce also turned down. Hell, he'd even offered to take him to a baseball game. Though Tony may not have known any better, Bruce certainly did. He refused to leave Stark Tower unless it was absolutely unavoidable. Bruce knew his limits, and simply being in New York, especially when he was worried about Stella, was seriously, seriously, pushing it.
Tony may not have been able to separate Bruce from the indoors, but he could certainly bring the party to him.
Pepper held a clipboard in her expertly manicured hands. A pen cap was being ground viciously between her teeth. A small headache was forming just behind her temples. She stood next to Tony as he flipped through his database of caterers for the small family party.
"Do you think we should get an ice sculpture," Tony began, concentrating on the screen, "or is that too cliché?"
"Too cliché," Pepper answered quickly, scribbling on her notepad. "Have you told Stella or Bruce about this? How are you even going to get her family here by Monday?"
"You're right, too cliché. Maybe giant cake that shoots whipped cream," Tony said, sliding his finger along the glass screen. "Maybe a giant cake that shoots whipped cream that Bruce can jump out of naked."
"You're avoiding the questions."
"You'll yell at me if I answer them."
"I'm sensing that I'll yell at you whether you answer them or not," Pepper said, raising her eyebrow judiciously.
"Well, I was hoping to make it a surprise party," Tony said, selecting the option for the giant cake. He wisely chose not to make it hollow.
Pepper sighed. "I highly doubt that Bruce handles surprises very well."
Tony picked up the phone and dialed in the caterer's number. He pressed the phone against his ear and said quietly, hushed, to Pepper, "He's a lot better at it than you'd think."
Tony twisted around slightly and began jabbering away to the man on the other side of the phone who yelled very loud and sounded vaguely Italian. Pepper took over his place at the computer and changed the order for the big cake to the list delegated for the big party. Most of the party stuff was just thrown randomly onto one list or the other, so Pepper began to organize the stuff.
"Party's scheduled for next Friday," Tony said definitively, hanging up on the Italian caterer.
Pepper didn't look up from the computer. "She's leaving again next Saturday."
"She knows not to overdo it on the champagne, then" Tony said. He squeezed in next to Pepper so that he could glue his eyes to the computer screen. "Can you start searching for her family members?"
Pepper had already pulled up the S.H.I.E.L.D. database. "On it."
They were quiet for a moment while Pepper clicked through Stella's family tree. The deeper she went in, the fewer family members she could find that might actually come – or be able to. Her brothers were in jail and her sister was otherwise not really human. Her parents might come, but they were rather elderly.
"Maybe we should ask her who she'd want here," Pepper suggested quietly.
Tony chewed his bottom lip. "Maybe we should ask Bruce."
Stella had Bruce on his knees, and he loved it.
However, they had learned, rather quickly, that until Stella's arm and leg were fully healed, it was not in anyone's best interests to go the full mile. Not only did it cause her pain every time she had to twist her arms or her legs in a certain position, but it was starting to seem like the Other Guy was getting a little protective himself. With every uncomfortable squeak or small whine of pain she made, Bruce felt the other guy beat against his chest.
It was Sunday, and they had taken the liberty of keeping that day to themselves. In translation, they had barricaded the door to the very lovely recreational room on Bruce's floor and shut themselves in with blankets and pillows and snacks. They watched movies the entire day, each taking a turn to choose. After about the fifth movie (Pirate Radio), -which meant that they had been holed into the room for about eight hours altogether not counting potty breaks- the movies weren't getting paid much attention at all.
Bruce had, in fact, begun using this disinterest to his advantage.
"I've already seen all of these before!" Stella said, brandishing the heavy box set of Star Wars at Bruce as he pushed the disk into the appropriate slot.
Bruce crawled back over to her, as they had been sitting on a mat of pillows and blankets on the floor for most of the day. He pushed himself in between her legs and kissed her mouth gently.
"I'm so sorry," he said, quite obviously not sorry. "I guess you'll just have to pay attention to me instead."
"Bruce Banner," Stella snapped, breaking away from him. She scooted backwards on her butt until her back hit the foot of the couch. "I didn't say you could do that."
He kissed her again. "You didn't say that I couldn't, either."
Stella hooked her hand under his chin, her finger carefully, casually, placed against his pulse. She brought his face in close to hers and kissed him, licking his bottom lip slowly. "I can't tell you no."
"And yet, you do it quite often," Bruce teased.
"Not my fault," Stella said, stretching her back out against the couch. She kissed Bruce slowly, one hand stroking his cheek and the other hand tangling in his hair.
Bruce rested his hands on her sides and squeezed, pulling her up and onto his folded knees. He twisted around, stumbling slightly, and fell back against the side of the couch. Stella's legs knees slipped around his waist and she sat nearly on top of his stomach. He stretched his legs out and bent them so that she slid downward along his thighs.
With nimble fingers, she slipped the top button of his shirt out of its hole and made quick work of the rest. Her cool fingers slid along the hot flesh of his chest, leaving a trail of vicious goosebumps in her wake. His skin was soft and tight, and her fingers traced circles into the panes of his body.
"That feels nice," Bruce said, smiling rather shyly. His voice was liquid in her ears; it was quiet and gentle, appreciative –perfect.
He traced a finger down Stella's cheek, past her wicked grin, and was surprised when she took his finger into her mouth.
Her tongue traced the tip of his finger, taking tiny licks and nipping here and there with her teeth. Bruce closed his eyes, mesmerized by the sensation, by the blatant euphemism. A hot streak worked up his arm as a pool of searing warmth bloomed in his thighs, forcing him to lean his head back against the couch. Her silky pink tongue worked down his fingers, tickling him gently, and it was all he could do not to beg her, not to plead her name for more.
Bruce pulled his finger from her mouth, leaving Stella with her mouth dangling open, her pink tongue between her teeth. He slipped his hands under her top, feeling along the curves of her body, and worked her top over her head. Next to go was both pairs of pants and undergarments, which were discarded as quickly and carelessly as unwanted garbage.
Bruce sat up straight and wrapped his arms around Stella's back. His thick cock jutted upright, resting against the taut skin of her stomach. Her body pressed against his; the softness of her cool breasts warmed against the blistering heat of his body. Hungry lips attacked his neck, sending a shiver down his spine. He arched against her, squeezing her tighter.
Jerking his knees upward, he pulled her roughly into position and thrust upward hard. Her name burned a tattoo on his tongue as it was ripped roughly from his mouth.
An exquisite battle of pain and desire waged war in the pit of Stella's stomach. With every thrust, with every roll of her hips, a fresh wave of pleasure washed through her. With every thrust, a twinge of pain shot through her leg, but she ignored it. The world had come down to simply her and Bruce and the meshing and melding of their bodies together.
Her climax broke over her like a hurricane, washing her far away from where she could be found. Vaguely, somewhere, she could hear a soft, final groan from Bruce, and then all was silent as she fell back down into consciousness.
Bruce's slick body stayed pressed against hers. His lips meshed against hers in a gentle kiss and he tangled his fingers in her hair, unwilling to let her move away from him.
A voice broke over the intercom: "Well, if you two are quite finished, Dr. Banner, I'd like to see you in my office. You can come naked. Or not. Miss Storm is required to, though, if she tags along."
Stella sighed loudly just as Bruce rolled his eyes. She mumbled quietly, "Maybe if we stay quiet, he'll go away."
Tony's voice crackled audibly. "Not likely. I know you're in there. I caught the tail end of your happy journey."
Bruce swung Stella's leg over his head, and he crawled out from his hunched position. He kissed her once more, lingering over her lips.
"I'll be back shortly," Bruce said, picking up his pants.
"That's right, loverboy, work comes first," Tony said impatiently, though there was an obvious bite of self-satisfaction.
Stella stood up, glad that her leg was stronger than it had been. "Don't make me come down there, Tony. I'll rip the beard off of your face and send it to you for Christmas."
"I used to call you that all the time," Zito reminded her. "Or have you forgotten? You liked it back then."
Stella crossed her legs. They stuck to the leather chair and left an ugly red weal on the inside of her pale calf. "In case you've forgotten, I was lying about nearly everything."
Zito took another long draught of scotch. "Then what were you telling the truth about?"
"I told you my real name…"
The glass clinked as it hit the wooden table. Zito looked her dead in the eye, even though his were starting to grow unfocused from the liquor.
"We're you lying when you said that you loved me?"
Stella bit her lip, chewing nervously. "Not the entire time."
Nick Fury reclined in his beach chair, the hot Maui sun blistering his face. An ice cold beer rested close to his right hand, close enough to feel the chill coming out from the frosted glass. He was in a more secluded part of the beach, a place to watch and observe the other beachgoers without taking part of civilization himself.
He had been in Maui for about a week; he had left the day after Agent Coulson's funeral, and it had been about that long since he had been buried. Or rather, Fury had been in Maui since Coulson's memorial service. His body had been sent to his remaining family.
Fury's phone had been turned off the entire week, and he had not taken a single call from work or friends or family. He was off on his own mission: relaxation. He'd played a lot of internet checkers that week.
On the off chance that perhaps civilization was ending somewhere else on the planet, Fury decided to turn his phone back on –but only for a minute. There couldn't possibly have been anything that pressing to attend to.
Fury remember his job, though, and instantly regretted turning his phone on.
He couldn't turn it off now, though. His curiosity was getting the best of him, and he had to check his messages. But only to know that everything was going well.
Like usual, it wasn't.
His message counter went through the roof, and the texts included everything from the daily lunch menu to an outbreak of zombie koalas in Australia.
Meatloaf for lunch, Director.
Agent Hill has the flu, sir. We've put her in quarantine.
No one can find the remote control for the hangar bay, sir. Did you leave it on your key ring, by chance?
We can't find Agent Barton's special bow. He's really scary when he's angry.
Thor said that Loki's gotten free and he's back on Earth. What do we do now?
Loki just knocked down a skyscraper in Abu Dhabi. Just a thought, but maybe you need to come back, sir.
Can I ask the cafeteria to make something other than meatloaf? This is the fourth time this week.
And then the big one - the text that made Fury down his beer quickly and get up from his comfortable beach chair.
Heard Stark is throwing a party. Shall I alert the authorities or tip off a SWAT team?
Fury thought to himself as he pulled his shirt on, "Not again…"
A/N: My sincerest apologies for my lateness! I've had some people ask me if I was dead! Really, I'm so sorry! I've been right in the middle of school work and homecoming and superlatives and it has simply been a huge mess! But I'm back, I'm here, and I've already started on the next chapter! Not only that, but my lovely partners in crime and I have started collaborating on a Pokemon story! It will be posted on Tumblr under the blog URL fourstupidtrainers! Should be good fun, if you're a fan of Pokemon. :) Thank you guys so much for being patient, and I hope I didn't disappoint anyone! :)