TC Stark: It is so much fun writing this story, I have to tell you. I really am glad it's getting some recognition and I hope I continue to do well by you guys! I am sorry that I made tony a little too harsh, I hadn't meant for him to come off that way. I hope I get everyone's personality down in this one! Just a fun chapter, enjoy!
Disclaimer: If anyone has read my "Whatever Time We Have Left" story, I am reusing Tilda. I found with that story that I never developed her properly, so I'm revamping her - giving her a fresh coat of wax and throwing her into this story. Also, as much as I love the Cap, I've realized (in my head) she is much better suited in this AU, as this is a Pietro/OC story (with small parts of Cap/Black Widow because they're my OTP). This story is rated M for mature content, such as sex, violence, death, language, etc. I try not to ever be too vulgar, but also don't believe in censorship. This story deals with the serious issues of a fatal medical condition, so there's that. I do not own anyone, except Tilda and my ideas.
Chapter Four
Nosebleeds.
Tilda Stygar had been getting nosebleeds for as long as she could remember. They had been especially heavy when the experiments had began. Her mother had assured her it was only a side effect to her body getting used to all the serum that was pumping into her. Looking back, she wasn't sure if the woman had been telling her that out of motherly nurture, or if it would make the scientific process easier with a young girl not complaining.
It was a bit frustrating that it was happening only a few minutes before they were to take a jet to New York City. Tony Stark still owned the Avengers tower in the city and was throwing one of his very expensive, very exclusive parties because apparently Thor was in town. Being new and technically not really part of the team, she had thought about not going, but Pietro had begged her to. She supposed being social wasn't one of her strong suits, but it was good to try new things?
Apparently, you were also supposed to dress nice to one of Stark's parties. Tilda really had never dressed up. Not only was she an experiment, but she was an agent. Leather pants, holsters, and fingerless gloves were a part of her everyday attire. Any different was out of her comfort zone.
Dressing nice to her was a long gray top, red skinny jeans, boots - not her steel toed ones - and a leather jacket with studs on the collar and cuffs. She felt ridiculous. Even this felt like too much effort, because now she was self-conscious if this was even something to wear at a ritzy party. At least her orange hair was straight down, right?
Tilda was holding her head up, with a tissue to her nose, when there was a knock on the door. Groaning, she kept applying pressure to her nostrils as she walked over to the door to see Pietro on the other side. He was wearing a light blue button down shirt, with the sleeves rolled up a quarter up, with a very nice pair of pants on. And his normally wild curly hair was held back with a headband, which he was rocking very well.
Instantly, Pietro was alarmed, "Tilda, what's wrong?"
Snorting, Tilda headed back into the room and tiredly threw the napkin into the trash, "Just a nosebleed. Been getting them forever."
"Maybe we should take you to doctor?"
Tilda waved Pietro off while reaching for the pack of cigarettes resting of her coffee table, "They know about them. Side effect of the experiments. Don't stress it. Least of my worries."
Pietro didn't say anything, as Tilda seemed pretty adamant that she didn't want the issue pressed. Though the telekinetic didn't make any attempt to hide what was wrong with her, he didn't know. All he knew was that she had special powers, but they weren't at the point in their friendship where she felt the need to bring it up.
"Okay...but, we need to go or else we miss jet. Wanda always getting on my ass for being late," Pietro stuck his hands in his pocket and sulked slightly, "And you know cigarettes are not good for you."
"Yea, yea, yea."
Tony Stark did not skimp out when it came to a party. Not that he really did anything in his life half-assed, but Jesus. Top shelf booze, waitresses passing around both cocktails and fancy Hors D'oeuvres, and what looked like the most beautiful crowd of people Tilda has ever seen. Surely, he was paying these people to be there.
Thor was a monument of a man. 6'5" at least, with blonde hair that practically reached his torso - Tilda was surprised to see him in clothing that didn't look like some Nordic warrior armor. Perhaps seeing a human had made him more aware of Earth culture, though his outfit did remind her of something medieval.
Looking around, Tilda also saw all the women she worked with were in dresses. Wanda, Maria Hill, even Natasha Romanoff - all looking stunning. As an agent, they weren't meant to be works of art. They were there to fight - it didn't matter their gender; there was a mission at hand. As a woman in that field, everything was so one dimensional. You couldn't be feminine and a fighter at the same time.
Tilda saw how wrong that thinking was.
And how underdressed she was.
Hands stuck in her pockets, Tilda headed over to the large bar and propped up on the stool. Ordering a Gin & Tonic, the orange haired woman looked up at the ceiling and waited for her beverage to arrive. There were so many people around, everyone was socializing, and she had no idea what to do.
"So, what's the deal with her?" Off on another side of the party, Steve Rogers stood adjacent to Natasha.
The Black Widow was casually sitting on the arm of a couch sectioned in one corner of the room, having just plucked a bacon wrapped shrimp from a waiter. Natasha was feeling confident and frankly, very sexy. The Cap tried to be subtle about it, but his eyes kept being drawn to her legs, though he always looked away when she noticed. The redhead smirked, he should have known by now how much she enjoyed it.
After popping the Hors D'oeuvre in her mouth, Natasha shrugged, "You've met Tilda."
"I know, but...I mean, good, bad? Your situation?"
"You mean ex-KGB?" The Black Widow quirked an eyebrow, shaking her head, "No. None of that. Once Tilda's father died, SHIELD swooped in and got her. She's been working for Fury this whole time, in case you're wondering if she's Hydra."
Arms folded, Steve shook his head, "I trust your judgment. I just...feel bad. I volunteered for this serum, she didn't. I had great parents - can't imagine treating a child like that."
Pursing her lips, Natasha's eyes flicked downwards as she quietly mumbled, "Not everyone is so fortunate."
Steve's focused was brought back to the Black Widow, knowing they were no longer talking about Tilda Stygar. Looking around, the Captain put his body in between Natasha and the rest of the party, blocking their actions. His hand reached down and took hers, gently rubbing his thumb along her fingers.
Trying to hide her smile, Natasha spoke in a low tone, "You're making me sappy, Rogers."
"I won't tell anyone." Steve smiled back, feeling her squeeze his hand.
Unaware of the lovers, Tilda excused herself to step onto the balcony of the floor to have a cigarette. It may have been a bad habit, but considering she had a death sentence on her head, smoking didn't seem so bad. Besides, the only real movies she had ever seen growing up were old ones and Hollywood actors made it look so alluring.
Just as she was about to light her cigarette, though; a dash of blue and silver flashed before her eyes. Shocked, Tilda looked down and saw that her cigarette was no longer in her hand, rather Pietro seemed to be holding it and then crushing the stick under his shoe. She supposed that's why he was called Quicksilver - she hadn't even seen him coming.
Finally realizing the situation, Tilda placed her hands on her hips and growled, "Pietro."
"No, these are bad for you, you shouldn't be smoking." Pietro waved his finger at her, seriously glaring down at the woman.
With a big sigh, Tilda folded her arms and demanded, "Give me my pack of cigarettes. I know you took those as well."
Tucking his hand into the pocket where her pack was hidden, the Sokovian shook his head, "No. It is not good for your health. Smoking is very bad. My grandfather, he got cancer from so much smoking. They had to cut off fingers, it was not pretty. Wanda and I, we were scared of him, even if he was good man."
There was a part of Tilda who wanted to throw a small fit over being denied her right to smoke. It wasn't anyone's decision other than her own and it quite annoyed her when people thought they could just simply butt in. Unfortunately, Pietro seemed so genuinely concerned and she supposed a good grandpa dying of cancer story usually subsided the anger.
Holding her hand out, Tilda reasoned with him, "If you give me the cigarette pack back, I'll try to set you up with the blonde in there who has been eying you all night."
For a second, Pietro seemed distracted with the fact that someone had been oogling him, before getting back to the subject at hand, "No, beruska, you cannot buy me with pretty women. Besides, I would much rather sit here and talk to you."
"Why?"
"Too many women in there, any hungry. I know it's hard to believe, but I am not the man whore most think I am."
Tilda sighed and sat down, crossing her legs as it seemed she was not getting what she wanted. Resting her chin on her fist, she asked, "Why not? Why don't you go and try to pick up someone?"
Shrugging, Pietro leaned back against the railing while explaining, "One night stands, they're nice. You meet someone, you attracted to them, fun night, and then nothing. But, exactly. Nothing. Who do I hold? Who do I talk to? If I want to let out my sexual frustrations, I take care of it myself. I get bored of affairs. Maybe I'm growing up."
"I'll have to ask Wanda." Tilda teased.
Blushing, the speedster groaned, "Please don't. She may not paint the best picture; there are some things she will never let me live down."
It was kind of cute seeing Pietro actually behaving shyly. Being a good looking man, she assumed someone like him would accept anyone throwing themselves at him. Though, Steve Rogers was equally as good looking and as far as she knew, he seemed the type to be utterly oblivious of when a person was flirting with him.
Their talk distracted Pietro, as the pack of cigarettes moved out of his pocket and flew into Tilda's hand. The telekinetic smirked at a gawking Quicksilver, taking one out and finally lighting it. She gave him an almost devious smile, closing her eyes and enjoying every second of the first inhale.
"That was very sneaky." Pietro shook his finger at her, but ultimately smiled. In the short time he knew Tilda, she didn't seem to be one for playfulness - he was happy she was opening up to him.
Some hours had gone by, the party seemingly picking up instead of slowing down. With Pietro, Tilda joined a small group forming of the Cap, Sam Wilson, Natasha, and Bruce. Clint wasn't at the party, spending time with his wife and kids. As much fun as he had, he was a family man and his hard drinking days were over.
"So, Quicksilver," Sam laughed, obviously a little tipsy as he leaned forward, "Out of you and the Cap, who do you think can drink more."
Oh God Steve rolled his eyes and mouthed, as Pietro smirked arrogantly, "Even without my metabolism, I could drink this old man under the table."
"I don't think you want to test that, son," Steve chuckled, holding his hand up, "I have a very high tolerance."
That was how Pietro ended up ordering almost four dozen shots from a nearby waitress, Thor chuckling as he closed into the group, "Are we testing this out again?"
"Newbie wasn't here to learn the first time." Natasha snickered, leaning comfortably into the couch.
The shots were lined up on the table in the middle of them, Pietro turning to Tilda and asking, "You want in?"
Tilda held her hands up and defended, "Regular metabolism here. You boys have fun."
Pietro then turned around and quickly guzzled down twenty of the shots, taking them at an impressively rapid rate. He slammed down the last glass in a display of masculinity, challengingly folding his arms and looking over at the Captain. Steve Rogers simply rolled his eyes and spoke, "You better take those last twenty, we'll be here all night waiting for me to get drunk."
Deciding to interject, Thor pulled out a flask, "Allow me to settle this. You all share the shots. Pietro, try some of this."
Sam reached out to begin passing the shots around, while Pietro took the flask from Thor and gave a sniff, "It seems like gasoline. This best you can do? I am Sokovian, Thunder God."
It hadn't taken more than five minutes for Pietro to be slumped over, passed out from the intensity of the Asgardian liquor. The Cap and Thor were laughing amongst themselves, both casually sipping the drink. That had been the young guy's problem, he had practically guzzled down the whole flask - thinking he could handle it.
"He better not puke." Tony pointed out, casually sauntering over with a hand tucked into his pocket.
Looking at his watch, Bruce deduced, "He'll probably sober up soon. Intoxication is short lived, his metabolism burns it all out."
"Feel bad for you boys," Natasha mused, taking a sip of her beer, "You're expensive dates."
"What did he do?" Wanda's sharp voice asked, as she and The Vision joined the group.
"Tried to show up Thor." Tilda snorted, with a hint of amusement in her voice.
The female Maximoff rolled her eyes, as Vision gently rubbed her shoulders. now that they were rebel activists against a fascist regime, Pietro had really allowed himself to have the fun that they weren't really ever able to have. She didn't want to be too hard on him - they hadn't had an easy life, but he didn't need to make an ass out of himself.
Pietro groaned, picking himself up as his system was slowly burning off the alcohol. Blinking his eyes, he looked around and pointed, "Is there two of you, Tilda?"