Taste of Apples
Summary:
My name is Lexi Roux. I am twenty-years-old and because I am just that awesome, I just recently graduated from Universite Paris Sorbonne, in Paris, France. I never expected my life to change so drastically after the death of my parents. I never really expected to have to put my life on hold, my Tante Maria telling me that my parents had been agents for some S.H.I.E.L.D. agency.
I guess Tante Maria never explained to these...Avengers, that I have what people call Synethesia. Every voice carries a taste. Every touch carries a sound.
Now, if I could just get the taste of apples out of my mouth and ignore the soft whispers against my skin.
Author's Note:
Lexi Roux is of my own creation. She is twenty years old and incredibly talented in Fine Arts. She also suffers from what is called Synethesia, which is where the brain confuses some of the sensory triggers. Voices cause her to taste flavors, music causes her to see metallic-shaded colors (compare it to the visualizers for ITunes or Media Players) and anything she touches she hears sounds. This doesn't effect her normal senses; sight, hearing or smell, it might sound confusing, but it won't seem so odd when you read on. She has been living in France for many years, so she uses some French terms, but did grow up in America so her first language is English.
Because I absolutely adore Tony Stark (there are so many different sides to Tony that makes him so...delicious), this will be a Tony/OC story.
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Avengers, or anything in relation to Marvel. The plot and Lexi are completely my own.
Enjoy!
Chapter Four
Cocoa Adonis
Today is probably the slowest day of my life, thus far. Everyone, with the exception of Tony, had gone off on a mission of some kind. Tony had elected to remain behind to keep an eye on me, though I doubt he has left his workshop. I admire his dedication to his work (on both his Iron Man suit and his company's inventions). Over the last few days, I managed to talk more with Clint, and I can't help but be completely drawn to him.
Not romantically, of course. I have seen the deep level of respect and adoration he carries silently for Natasha (who still has yet to speak to me often). He feels...familiar. He is so troubled by his past deeds, and yet he carries such a deep passion in what he does that I am intrigued by his stories. We argue over movies and debate over music (both of us lean toward the Rock genre). He feels like...famille. I never had any siblings. Never connected with my parents, though I do still love them. Clint reminds me of a person that remains passionate in his loyalty to his friends.
I respect that more than anything.
I've managed to sketch a profile of each team member, and oddly enough, Natasha had been my favorite subject of study. Such soft, beautiful features, hardened through duty and pain. Stoic features and monotonous voice, barely able to hide the inner anguish deep within her eyes. She is a beautifully wrapped enigma, encased in a shroud of cynicism and hard facts. She is...personified Atlas. The one who carries so much on her shoulders. The one that follows duty over heart.
It's my favorite profile, yet the hardest to stomach.
"Miss Roux, lunch is ready."
I smile softly as I pull away from my thoughts, Jarvis's familiar flavor coating my senses, "Thanks, Jarvis."
Standing up from my bed, I smooth out the fabric of my tight-fitted long-sleeved shirt, before leaving the room. Stalking down the halls, inwardly humming a familiar tune, I enter the dining area.
"Your newest evolution of your Man of Iron suit is quite impressive, my friend."
My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth, eyes slamming shut. The rich, decadent flavor of chocolate. No. Melted chocolate. No. I roll my tongue along my mouth. Worse, it's...hot chocolate. Rich, savory and warming. The voice itself is rich with accent, deep and booming with pleasure and excitement. Who ever spoke, is a man of rich taste and aristocratic behaviors. Shakespearean dialogue with a trace of old, European accent. Not Old English, but deeper, richer. Like...Viking?
Shaking away the senses, I heave a heavy sigh before entering the kitchen. A large, hulking figure sits at the island, a broad grin stretched across such angular features. Gold spun from his scalp, brushing over his shoulders, and I urged to feel the silky texture. Even while seated, the man seems to be quite tall, probably the tallest. His broad, muscular form put even Steve to shame. Light blue eyes, as though he had been bestowed the color of the sky on a sunny, cloudless day, gleam with pride, loyalty and curiosity.
Wait...eyes?
I snap out of my thoughts to see both Tony and the blonde man staring at me, the blonde's head tilted as though a curious kitten. I bite down on the inside of my cheek, forcing myself to stop the grin at the thought of comparing this man to a kitten.
"You must be the great Lady Lexi, Tony has spoken of," the rich, savory voice booms in greeting.
Oh. Of course. I had forgotten Steve spoke of another team member.
"Lexi, this walking Goldilocks is Thor," the sour-bite of Tony's voice pierces through the rich flavor of the prior voice, "Thor, this is our ward, Lexi."
I roll my eyes. Ever since the minor incident with Natasha, Tony had become snarky toward the reference of me needing to be baby-sat. Tony and Clint both had taken up the idea of showing me around New York. Everyday, for a few hours, one of them would accompany me on a walk. Both understood my hesitance on accepting the Avengers's protection.
"It's nice to meet you, Thor. Any relation to the Norse God of Thunder?" I question, curiously as I accept the plate of food Tony slides over to me.
Nothing in this world beats a club sandwich.
"I am he," Thor comments, the bacon and turkey flavor in my mouth coating with chocolate, "It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Lexi. I have heard many details about you."
"Hopefully they are words of appraisal," I intone, hearing Tony chuckle as I mock Thor's speech, and I grin, "Sorry. Accents like your's make me want to try it out myself."
"I take no offense. The highest form of flattery comes from those who mock others," Thor responds, the broad grin stretching across his features.
I giggle. Oh. He is good. I think I'm going to like this guy.
"I, as well, have always thought it to be that way. Though, people are often to take the words in a manner that belies their meaning," I quip playfully.
The booming laugh from the God before me forces a flood of chocolate-flavor down my throat, and I laugh to disguise the cough, "Désolé, mon ami, it is nice to meet you, Thor. I hope it is not to bold of me to ask, but would you be a modèle for me?" Blonde brows shoot up in slight confusion, "I am an artist and I tend to draw people I come to meet. I have drawn a portrait profile of every team member thus far."
"A great honor it would be, then. I have heard from the Captain of the Americas that you are a brilliant artist," Thor responds in kind.
A hot flush spreads across my cheeks, but Tony leans forward, "Wait a sec. You've drawn everyone? What about me?" I nod, blushing even more at the memory of spending so much time on the finer details of Tony's features, "Can I see it?"
"Um..." I shift, glancing away from the playful and pleading light brown eyes, "I suppose you can."
Finishing off my last bite, I return to my room to collect my sketch pad. Finding my way back to the kitchen, I place it on the counter top and watch as Tony instantly opens it. Various black and white sketches of my roommate from school in all manners of natural pose decorate the first few pages. I smile softly at the sight of the dark brown irises colored in around the pupils. Tony seems to become engrossed within the portraits as he comes to the team. He flips pass everyone's profile sketches and comes to several others I've done during my time here. Pictures of Steve, focused on his own drawings, blue eyes heavy with concentration. Of Bruce giving a crooked smile while looking off to the side, mild amusement filling brown eyes. Of Clint sprawled across the sofa, sleeping peacefully. Of Natasha, leaning against a wall, hardened features with pain-filled blue-green eyes. Of himself, laughing aloud as he lounges across a chair, a white-blue coloring dancing across the center of his chest.
Tony clears his throat, glancing up as he comes to a blank page, "You are very talented."
I blush, looking away from the praise, "Thank you."
"I agree with Tony," Thor states, having looked at them over the genius's shoulder, "You have a way with pulling people into the portraits, as though they will become animated at any moment. It is an impressive gift you have, Lady Lexi."
I can feel my blush deepen, "I have a habit of paying attention to detail. I feel as though every scar, every blemish, every tainted feature someone carries has a story behind it."
"It would be an honor to be a subject of study for you," the Viking God adds, the broad grin still across his features.
"I'd hate to interrupt the conversation, Sir, Master Odinson, Miss. Roux, but Miss. Roux's phone has received a voicemail."
Swallowing the nervous lump, I flash the two men a weak smile before returning to my room. Leaning against the closed door, I rub the bridge of my nose. Chocolate and apples. A delicious combination, but carries such a sickeningly-sweet taste. To have watched Tony observe my work with such dedicated focus had been nerve-racking. Art is personal. It is emotional and free. It is...private and intimate.
Opening my eyes, I push away from the door and as I snatch my phone off of the nightstand I turn on point and allow my body to fall back. Landing on the soft mattress below, I inhale deeply before staring at the ceiling. Lifting the phone straight up, I flip it open to gaze at the LCD screen. J. Mason.
"Bonjour, ma chère, I am calling with great news. Non, fantastique news. Monsieur André informed moi that my artwork, and that of your's, is going to be presented in a showcase next month."
I roll my eyes as the lemon-lime flavored voice greets my ears, "Has anyone ever told you, you talk too much? Beaucoup trop, mon ami. You know I can't just fly back over to Paris."
"Oui, I speak way too much, way too fast, non? Now, now, ma chère, I never said the showcase is being held in Paris. Non, en fait, the showcase is to be held in the Great American city of New York."
I sit upright, eyes wide, "You are going to be in New York?"
"Oui. I am hoping it will be alright if I see you next month."
"Like I can refuse," I quip, my voice growing softer, "Look, I'm afraid I must go for now, but count me in. I don't care if I have to drag every single one of these people watching me to it. You can tell Monsieur André that I will definitely be there."
"Oui, ma chère, I bid you adieu for now."
"Au revoir," I say before hanging up.
A showcase. A dear friend. Something familiar. Who do I take? Steve and Bruce will be out of place among the socialites. Natasha could work, yet I am sure she would not be pleased to have to babysit me. I giggle at the idea of Thor being there. I am sure he has experience with art, but he would undoubtedly make people uncomfortable; due to his height and muscular figure. So, that leaves Tony and Clint.
Standing up from the bed, I toss my phone back to its original place before leaving the room. Locating Tony in his workshop, I hesitate, standing outside of the glass doors as I watch his distant figure move around the room. With a hope that I am not interrupting anything, I knock on the glass door. Light brown eyes gleam curiously as the young philanthropist makes his way to the door, opening it with a flourish.
"Something wrong, Lexi?" he questions.
Licking my lips, a hot flush floods across my cheekbones, "Oh. Um, my old roommate called me. He...he said that my artwork done for school has been selected to appear in a showcase next month. Apparently, it's going to be held here in New York, and I was...well, I...uh," I glance down at the floor, mumbling out the rest of the words in a bad mixture of French slang and barely audible English.
"I'm sorry? What was that last part?" Tony teases.
"I-wanted-to-know-if-you'd-go-with-me!" I blurt out in a quick mesh up of words, gaining a cocked eyebrow in response that causes me to sigh, "I wanted to know if you'd go with me. It isn't really something I want to miss, but I know I won't be able to go alone."
A bright smile forms on Tony's face, "So, you want me to be your bodyguard and your escort?"
"Please," I intone, nodding my head, "If it's not too much to ask. I know you are a busy man."
"Well, I suppose I can pencil you in."
I can't even begin to hold back the grin that spreads across my lips, "Thank you, Tony. You have no idea what this means to me."
Before I attempt to make a fool out of myself, I turn on heel before walking off. Gathering my art supplies, I find Thor sitting in the living room, watching television with the same level of dazed focus as a kid watching Spongebob. No. Scratch that. He is watching Spongebob with the same dazed focus as a kid. I smother a giggle back as I sit down and watch as delight and humor dances across the strong face. Several minutes into sketching out the major details of his face, I begin to focus on the minor details, and it is then that it hits me.
Thor is the epitome of Adonis. Tall. Carved out of freaking marble. Without physical faults. As though the ancient Gods had taken every piece of perfection and placed it into one human being. To put it simple.
He's walking perfection.
It takes a while, but soon I am nearly finished when the team comes back. Watching as they greet Thor, I slip out of the room and back into my own bedroom. Laying out on my bed, I inwardly curse myself. I should have asked Clint. I have a feeling I would be less awkward around Clint than I would Tony. Not that Tony would be a bad escort, or bodyguard, I just don't understand why I get so...twisted around the genius. Though, inviting Clint would cause confusion, insinuations and most likely my death-by-dagger-glares by Agent Romanoff herself.
Closing my eyes, I silently wish things could be normal.
Alright, that is the last arrival from the team. I hope the flavor is befitting of Thor's personality.
katielee97: No, no Clint/Lexi romance. I adore Clint's character, the anguish Renner depicts after Hawkeye gains control of his mind and body again I felt was so...beautiful. I can't help but love the broken ones. Yes, Lexi gets into some action, but I'm focused on having Lexi make a better connection with the team. Thank you!
Ali: I was wondering when I'd hear from you. I'm glad you enjoy it thus far!
Creatividadqueamo: Awww...that means so much to me! I am pleased you have taken a liking to the story, despite your dislike of OC's. Thank you!
.Uchiha: I know. I was in the middle of imagining Tony, Clint and Natasha in the same room, and with their flavors, as I was figuring a way to describe them, I was like 'Mother of God, it would be a freaking fruit salad'. I laughed at myself for a good minute or two and figure, hey, why not! I'm very pleased you are enjoying it.
Ravenclaw Slytherin: YAY! I HAVE ACHIEVED THE ULTIMATE GOAL! -lol- Sorry. I love all of your reviews, but I was curious if you ever typed anything more. I have successfully managed to pry open that mouth (or fingers I suppose) of your's. Thank for your review. Yes, I thought I caught Clint in the right light.
Cutepenname: You are the second person to read my mind before I even start on a chapter. I hope, as biased as you are, that you enjoy my description of Thor.
watergoddesskasey: I'm not even going to try to go around this. 'AWESOME-tastic' made me laugh. I am pleased you enjoy it so much.
TO THE SILENT 'FOLLOWERS' OF MY STORY. You...my minions (oh come on, when I think followers, I think evil minions...) make me very happy as well. Quiet. Hope to pry a review from some of you at some point, but you still please me greatly (sounded kind of dirty).
Thank you all, very much.
Who do you want to see Lexi interact with more? Let me know!
Until Next Time...