Happy Monday, guys! Thanks to all who are following/favorite-ing my story! I'm honestly touched that people are reading it and enjoying it. I wrote it for my own enjoyment, so I'm glad I'm not the only one. :-)
In other news, we're back in the present, at Stark Tower, where a strange OC has arrived with a bad attitude and vague instructions. Tony had some mixed feelings upon meeting her; how will the rest of the team react?
"And this will be your room," Pepper said, opening the door to one of the many guest bedrooms and showing Elizabeth inside. It was one of the nicer rooms, with its own bathroom and everything. "I didn't get a chance to lay out fresh towels or anything, but I can go get them if you want."
Elizabeth looked around the room, noticing everything in it. "Yes, that would be nice," she told Pepper, who nodded and immediately headed out the door. Elizabeth stopped her before she got too far, though. "And could you bring back a spare sheet?" Again, Pepper smiled and nodded, hurrying off down the hallway.
As soon as she was alone, Elizabeth meandered around the room, hands clasped casually behind her back. "Well," she said to herself, "here I am." She wondered briefly why she wasn't happier about that. A small voice in the back of her mind reminded her that this was also no vacation; she was here to do a job – and not an easy one at that.
Honestly, she hadn't known what she should expect from a bedroom at Stark Tower. The whole place was very unlike anything she had ever seen before – very sleek and metallic with strange bits of technology that she had never imagined situated around every corner as though they were commonplace. But her room was much less computerized than the rest of the building, making it much more manageable for her. She likely could learn to use the complex machines all around the house, but she would prefer not to waste the time on something such as that.
She sighed, but no tension left her.
The goal was to complete the task she had been given in the shortest amount of time possible. To do that, she would require the Avengers' cooperation. If nothing else, she had to use them as vehicles by which she could achieve her means. Because how she accomplished her task was unimportant.
Her orders had simply been to "fix what Loki broke." That was all. She started pacing the room in frustration at what she imagined was quite possibly the vaguest set of instructions ever given. What was she supposed to do with that? She reasoned that she had been sent to the Avengers because she would need their help (though she hated to admit that she needed help with anything, much less that of a group of glorified freaks and assassins). But how exactly was she supposed to get them to do what she needed them to do? And what exactly was she supposed to be fixing? Loki broke a lot of things, after all.
She hissed a long breath through her nose and glanced around the room once more. She checked the hallway for any sign of Pepper, and, once she was convinced she was alone, she cautiously looked into the mirror. Her face stared back, looking just as lost and confused as she felt. "You're looking a little rough there, Lizzy," she told herself sardonically, watching the mouth in the mirror move in tandem with hers. She ran a hand over her face, excusing her slightly disheveled appearance for once in her life; she had had a very long morning, after all.
Slowly, she drew away from the glass, watching as the imperfections in her reflection diminished the further away she moved. Then, she wandered lazily around the corner and peered into the adjoining bathroom. It, like the bedroom, was sparsely decorated but properly furnished.
She was just ducking back out of the bathroom again when Pepper came back with a stack of towels, which she set on the bed. "Here's your extra sheet," she told her, pulling a plain white piece of linen from the top of the stack. "Do you think that'll work?"
She smiled and said, "It will do beautifully. Thank you." She would put it over the mirror once Pepper left again.
The red haired woman smiled back at her, her eyes warm and kind. "Is there anything else I can get you?" she asked with the air of someone who genuinely wanted her to be comfortable. Elizabeth was not used to this kind of hospitality. She had experienced it before, but it had always been at least a little forced. Now, Pepper was simply offering to help her out of some sense of goodness that was foreign to Elizabeth. She was careful not to let herself read too much into it.
"No thank you," she said, and Pepper smiled again. That same warm, perplexing smile.
"Between you and me," Pepper said somewhat quietly, "I think it'll be nice to have another woman around. It's always just been me and Natasha with the four guys. Natasha can hold her own with just about anybody, but it's still nice to be a little less outnumbered."
Elizabeth nodded; she understood the concept well enough. "Who stays here normally?" she asked.
"Me and Tony, Bruce, Steve, Clint, and Natasha." She shrugged. "It sounds like a lot of people, but it really doesn't feel like it."
"Why is that?"
"Well, for starters, this place is big. And then Clint and Natasha are out a lot because they work. Tony and Bruce are usually locked away in their labs doing whatever it is scientists do between snack breaks. So, around the tower all day, every day is normally just me and Steve. But I'm running a business, and Steve keeps busy." She smiled at Elizabeth in a friendly, longsuffering way, as if to suggest that she'd like to see more of her friends than she does at present. "Are you planning on being around much?" she asked.
"I'm not certain," Elizabeth replied, and it was the truth. She had no idea how much she would actually be around the tower. And, even when she was there, how often would she be out of her room? How much time could she afford to throw toward social interaction when she was in such a hurry to finish her one job? Would she even want to interact with the Avengers anyway? Right now, her mind was telling her absolutely not, but she would be forced to either way, wouldn't she?
"Well," Pepper said, bringing her attention back to the conversation, "we should get to know each other a little better. You seem nice."
Elizabeth blinked at her for a moment. Nice? her mind asked incredulously. Finally, she dragged a smile onto her face, saying "Thank you" and choosing not to let her thoughts linger here either.
"Hey, it's Thursday," Pepper said, and Elizabeth groaned inwardly. Thursday was her least favorite day of the week. "On Fridays, Natasha has off and Clint takes the afternoon shift, so we usually all hang out together on Thursday nights. Order some pizza, watch Survivor. You know. That sort of thing. I'm sure you'd be more than welcome if you wanted to join us."
Elizabeth stared at Pepper for a moment, utterly convinced that the woman had been inviting her strictly out of convention. But there was nothing but true, heartfelt offering in her face. She nodded once, not letting on just how bewildered she was by the simplicity of Pepper and her kindness.
Pepper just said, "Hope to see you there," and Elizabeth was sure she somehow meant every word of it.
Then, Pepper caught her up in a quick hug – one which Elizabeth didn't recognize in time to return, so she just wound up standing stiffly, arms pinned to her sides, as the shorter woman did all the hugging – and, with a "Please make yourself at home," Pepper left the room.
For just a short while, Elizabeth stood, staring after her. She had only rarely met people like Pepper, she reasoned, and those meetings had not been any time recently. She had almost entirely forgotten how to react to someone like that.
Eventually, she shook it off, shoving the interaction to the back of her mind and instead picking up the sheet to cover the large mirror affixed to the vanity. The sheet was large enough to fold in half, so she did; the thicker it was, the smaller the chances of an unwanted reflection.
She took one more glance at her image in the mirror before she slipped the sheet over it, hiding it from view.
Survivor night was a culture shock, to say the least.
Elizabeth had anticipated this, and she had very seriously debated sitting it out because of this knowledge. Still, she hadn't met all of the inhabitants of the tower, and she figured she may as well introduce herself. So she dragged herself out of her consuming thoughts regarding her purpose here in the first place, instead coaxing her face into an easy, nonchalant smile that would no doubt be well-received.
When she had first melted into the massive living room, nobody had noticed her; she thanked her quiet step and whatever higher power was on her side at the moment and took that extra minute or two to look around her at all the faces, trying to match them with names and letting herself slowly grow accustomed to the noise level. Finally, Pepper caught her eye, shooting her that disarmingly genuine smile again and breaking away from the conversation she was having with Tony to come talk to her.
"Oh, good!" she said. "I was afraid you weren't going to come see us."
Elizabeth smiled back a diplomatic sort of smile that only just softened her eyes. "For a while, so was I," she said quietly, so as not to draw attention to herself. "Who's whom?"
Pepper moved off through the room with the air of a tour guide on her first day at work. The music in the air was loud and hard, so she had to speak over it the further from the fringes they got. "Dr. Bruce Banner –" she indicated a man wearing a very neutral expression, but whose brown eyes were alarmingly deep and unfathomable, as though they belonged on a different face – one with more zest and less Zen. Talking to Dr. Banner was another man – taller, blonde hair perfectly combed save for a single lock that curled over his forehead in a charming, boyish sort of way – whom Pepper introduced as Captain Steve Rogers. They both stopped their conversation (something about a motorcycle, from what Elizabeth could gather) to say hello and shake hands with the newest addition to the tower. Thankfully, Pepper didn't give them enough time to ask her any questions before she moved on.
A man who had escaped Elizabeth's notice before was the next to be introduced. "Clint Barton," Pepper said, passing beside the couch on which he was lounging comfortably. "He works for SHIELD."
"You're not supposed to just tell people that," Barton said, sitting up and scowling at Pepper. Then, he looked at Elizabeth, and his face cleared. "Oh," he said. "You're the one Tony told me about. The one who knows about SHIELD. Sent by someone higher than Fury."
Elizabeth nodded once in affirmation. "You can call me Elizabeth; it's shorter."
Clint must have caught the teasing note in her voice, because he almost smiled. He glanced at Pepper. "I like her sense of humor," he informed her. Then, to Elizabeth: "You keep up that sarcasm, we just might get along."
She smiled in response, but Pepper was already hurrying her along, explaining to her that Natasha should be getting off the elevator any minute now; she worked into the evening on Thursdays to make up for her taking a day off every Friday. When they circled back to Tony, he stepped behind the bar. "Normally, I can guess what people drink," he said to Elizabeth, "but you're being difficult. I can't decide whether you're a fruity umbrella-drink kind of girl or more of a red wine type."
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. "Neither, actually," she told him.
He leaned on the bar, eyeing her. "What do you drink?" he asked, half to himself and half to her.
"Would you like me to spoil it by telling you?" she asked suavely.
"No, hold on –" Tony stared hard at her for a second, puzzling very theatrically. Then, he threw up his hands and said, "I've got nothing. Go on; I love a good spoiler."
"What is the closest thing you've got to hard, heavy spiced ale?"
Tony stared at her for a beat, and then he turned around and opened the fridge, pulling out a beer, popping the top, and handing it to her. "Funny," he said. "I never would have pegged you as an ale person. Thor, sure. I mean, he's a Viking god and everything. He was probably drinking the stuff before he could chew solid food."
She scoffed, taking a sip to bury her not altogether humorous smirk. "I may surprise you about more than just what I drink," she said.
"I look forward to it," Tony said, grabbing another beer, this one for himself. As he took the first drink from the bottle, he asked, "What do you like on your pizza?"
Elizabeth just stared at him. "Pizza?" she asked after a moment.
"Yeah, you know, that round thing with the –" Tony pulled up short, realization dawning. "Oh my – you've never had pizza."
Suddenly, every conversation seemed to come to a screeching halt; the music seemed far too loud without the white noise of voices behind it, and it grated in her ears as everyone turned and looked at her, all wearing the same dumbfounded expression. She stared back, unwittingly defensive.
Clint slowly stood up from the couch, breaking the silence. "Hold up. You've never had pizza?"
Elizabeth looked around and saw the same question echoed in every set of eyes in the room. She felt her face turn to plastic in an effort to avoid scowling at the accusatory manner in which they all silently gawked at her as if she was a freak in a side show. "No," she replied slowly, dragging out the word just to irk the shocked stares off of their faces.
Just as abruptly as they all stopped talking, they started up again, louder and more raucous than before, each talking over the others and to the others and to her. She vaguely caught snatches of their conversation – things like "sausage" and "peppers."
"You're in New York, sweetheart," Tony was saying beside her. "You're about to have some of the best pizza around."
In the midst of all the chaos, Elizabeth heard a faint ding, and a set of footsteps made their way into the noisy room. "What the hell –" a woman's voice began, before she was accosted by Clint, who explained that Elizabeth – the new girl standing by Tony and Pepper who knew about SHIELD, was sent by someone higher than Fury, and would be staying with them for a while – had never had pizza before. Then, Natasha' voice joined the mix, but she was speaking very clearly to Elizabeth herself. "Don't you ever let these idiots talk you into eating anchovies. You will regret it for the rest of your life." Then, with a tight, uncertain smile, the red-haired woman approached her, holding out her hand. "Natasha Romanoff," she said.
Elizabeth, expertly tuning out the chatter behind her, shook her hand. "Elizabeth. It's a pleasure."
"Not allowed to tell me your last name or something?" Natasha asked, face difficult to read.
With a flippant shrug, Elizabeth said, "My family name has been marred over the years by a series of idiots, and I prefer not to use it among friends."
Natasha's eyes narrowed at her, as though she wanted to question the logic behind Elizabeth's quiet refusal to elaborate on her name; after a second, though, she must have concluded that it wasn't worth pursuing at this point, because she folded her arms loosely and said, "You gonna watch Survivor with us tonight?"
"Perhaps," Elizabeth replied. "I've never seen it, though."
One of Natasha's eyebrows quirked up halfheartedly. "Wow. Never had pizza, never seen Survivor – it's positively un-American." Then, before Elizabeth had a chance to respond, she took half a step closer and said, "I would go for pepperoni and onion on the pizza," with a tiny grin.