Warnings: Nsfw, SMUT, Desperate Tony, begging, stress relief, leg humping, dry humping, touch starved Tony, inappropriate boss/ employee relationship, possessive Tony, unprotected sex, pinv, oral (m! receiving), f!masturbation, no use of y/n, probably ooc Tony but idc
Summary: Your boss Tony Stark hasn’t been the same after the events of New York, and your secret crush urges you to help him relax after endless nights in the lab.
You walk towards the lab immediately noting its state of disarray. Tony has been in there for god knows how long, he hasn’t been the same after New York. He is constantly trying to perfect the suit. You can tell the experience hangs over him, looming behind every corner. It's taken a toll, you can see it clearly as you watch him through the glass door. His messy hair, dark eyebags, fidgety hands – he always needs to be doing something, tinkering or holding anything. A pang of sympathy shoots through you as you watch him drag a hand down his face.
Enough is enough, he needs help you decide with finalty.
Pushing through the door with purpose you are instantly hit with the smell of oil. Tony lazily glances at you then sighs deeply. He watches your approach in the reflection of the metal in front of him, setting down the tool in his hand to wipe his dirty hands on a rag. You stop just beside the table with arms crossed.
“Mr. Stark-” “Shouldn’t you be home by now?” Tony interrupts, pretending to look for something on the table.
“Shouldn’t you?” you ask with a raised eyebrow.
He glances at you briefly through the corner of his eye.
“I am home,” he responds.
You look around the room incredulously. “Right, love what you’ve done with the place. The industrial lighting is very homey,” you tap the metal plate in front of him to get his attention but fail, “is this a Boccioni?” you ask with a soft smile. Tony doesn’t meet your eye.
“I don’t know if you realized, but every time you clocked in over the last 2 years it was in a building with my name on it. Pretty sure this is my home hun,” he says flatly.
You huff out a laugh and lean a hip against the table. “Seriously though, when was the last time you were out of the lab?”
He sighs dramatically. “I'm not in the mood for a sharing circle, go home for the night,” he orders, still looking at anything but you.
You shake your head lightly while observing him, willing him to look at you. “I’m not leaving, not until you get out of this room,” you gesture to the space around you then to the oil stains that decorate his band tee, “or those clothes.” He finally meets your eye.
A mischievous smirk crosses his lips as he tilts his head to look you up and down. “You'd like that wouldn't you? Was this all a plot to get me naked?”
“Jesus,” you can’t help but smile. At least he is joking, but you know he is just doing it to redirect the conversation. You sigh heavily while looking down at him, “what am I going to do with you?”
“I have a few ideas”
“Oh really? Well, I think you should go shower and actually try to sleep more than 2 hours at a time,” you reply, trying not to imagine what he was insinuating. He only scoffs in return. “Sir, I'm worried about you,” you say seriously, shifting your position so you are sitting on the desk.
He stares at the contraption in front of him leaving your words to linger in the air. “I don't want to sleep,” he states with the most vulnerability you have ever seen from him. You can’t even imagine the horrors he relives every time he closes his eyes. Right now he is wound so tight, either constantly on edge or free falling in darkness. In a fleeting moment where your affection overpowers your sense of professionalism, you reach out and cup his face, thumb caressing his cheek. His eyes shudder closed.
Finally processing the line you just crossed you yank your hand away mortified, but Tony grabs ahold of it before you can retreat too far. He moves his head towards your hand, nuzzling it like a deprived cat.
“Oh my god, Mr. Stark I’m so sorry,” you say frantically trying once again to move your hand away. His grip turns to steel around your wrist, firmly holding it in place. He is so detached that any physical affection must have broken something deep within him. He is lost in his own world, completely unresponsive to your words as he holds your hand to his face just soaking it in.
“This is incredibly unprofessional,” you try once again to convince him, and yourself, but this must prompt Tony to go further as he rests the side of his head on your plush thighs. One hand holding your wrist, the other resting dangerously close to your hip, this is the most at peace he’s looked in months.
“We shouldn't be doing this,” your last ditch attempt to persuade yourself this doesn't feel entirely natural.
“Oh c'mon baby,’ his voice is broken and exasperated.
A shallow breath releases itself from your lungs. As if on instinct you rake your nails through his disheveled hair causing him to scrunch his eyes closed. A gasp leaves his mouth as you reach the tuft of hair on his neck, playing with it lightly before resting your hand on his shoulder feeling the tense muscles below.
“Sir-” “Tony,” his voice is muffled from where he presses against you, “call me Tony.”
You feel a slight thrill at this. He has always been “Sir” or “Mr. Stark”, now he is just Tony. How fitting, this is the most human he has ever looked to you; broken, begging for anything you'll give, pathetic.
“Tony,” your voice is breathless as you try his name on your tongue, his hand on your wrist tightens momentarily as the other grasps your hip. You feel heady, “I’m here to help, how can I do that?”
His face remains unfazed by the HR nightmare occuring, “touch me.” You don’t respond. Suddenly, he pushes away from you and you think he has sobered from the high of physical affection, that he has realized you are his employee and he has an image to uphold as a cocky, emotionless playboy. Instead, he reaches back and tugs his shirt over his head to reveal his defined torso. His chest heaves as he mutters the word that finally breaks you: “please.”
Mr. Stark never bothers with manners, but apparently Tony does. That is why you hold his face between your palms and guide him up to you. That is why you urge him to stand between your legs by wrapping them around his bare waist. That is why you gently kiss him with more love and adoration than anyone should hold for their boss. Because he is no longer a character, he is a real human.
A heavy sigh leaves him as he deflates against you. Resting both hands on the desk beneath you he practically cages you in. You taste bitter coffee on his tongue and feel some tension leave him as you tilt your head, deepening the soft kiss.
One of your hands drags down his front until you meet the waistline of his pants. You turn to look at his profile before softly palming his semi through his sweats. His breath hitches in your ear and you can't help the small smile that tugs on your lips at how reduced the Tony Stark is, all for you.
Trailing your fingers lightly up his growing bulge his hips buck forward chasing contact. But you don’t give in yet, rather you relish in the way he can’t stop his body from following your featherlight touches. After a moment of you watching his eyebrows furrowed and soaking in the moment, Tony decides this isn’t enough.
He grabs your teasing hand and forces it forward harshly, groaning at the sensation. Then he pulls it roughly to his face to nuzzle against it again while shifting slightly to one side to rub his member against your shin. Warmth rushes to your cheeks, never have you experienced this – a man humping your leg like a dog in heat.
“Fuck Tony,” you say breathlessly, he only exhales loudly as he moves to rest his forehead on your shoulder allowing your hand to fall in the process. Your now free hands move on their own feeling the rigid expanse of his back. Tony’s facial hair tickles against your neck as he tilts his head to kiss it hungirly.
Continuing to rut against your leg, Tony moves to palm one of your breasts through your shirt. His other hand ventures lower to rest at the bottom of your stomach before quickly moving to cup your covered mound. This forces a gasp from you at the sudden onslaught of sensations – Tony isn't the only one starved of human touch.
His fingers press eagerly into you, massaging both your chest and now wet pussy. His hips shift upwards while his neck tilts further to mouth your jaw.
“Such a pretty girl,” he presses the heel of his palm against you, applying hard pressure to your clit while licking the column of your neck. The hand massaging your breasts moves to fish through the hair at your nape, forcing your head to tilt for better access. “Look what you do to me baby. Needed you so badly,” his breath fans against your sensitive neck, “and you knew that too, so good to me, always know exactly what I need.”
Your thighs squeeze around his hand at the praise, biting your lip at the unyielding pressure he applies to your core while continuing to pleasure himself against you. He rubs his tip against your knee, and you are delighted when he mewls against your neck.
You drag your hands down the slope of his neck, feeling his rapid pulse. “God Tony, you need to calm down,” you say into his ear.
“Can’t,” he murmurs against your cheek, nudging his nose into the side of your face. You bring a hand to the back of his neck petting him comfortingly.
“I want you to,” you reply quietly. He pulls back to assess the sincerity in your eyes before finally giving in with a nod. Pushing down the satisfaction you get from your usually stubborn boss relenting so easily, you focus on the task at hand. Now is not the time to revel in this small victory, now is the time to finally allow yourself to indulge in the fantasies you have tried so hard to suppress. The feelings that have been brewing for so long, the way you unconsciously compare every date to him, the fleeting thoughts of his tinkering hands that flash through your mind late at night. Now is your chance to act.
You push at his shoulders softly, he moves back just enough to allow you the space to stand from the desk before guiding him backwards to sit in the chair. As you kneel you drag the tips of your fingers against his torso softly with your descent. He tenses at the feeling of your palms brushing his thighs soothingly.
“You work so hard Tony, let me help you relax,” you look up at his captivated face through your lashes.
He nods quickly and you reach up to still the harsh movement. Your palm drags down his body again as you kiss him lightly through his sweatpants. His eyes squeeze shut as if resisting the urge to buck up against you forcefully and take what he wants.
Your fingers hook under his waistband and you carefully pull his sweats and boxers down. Your hands find purchase on his bare knees as you take the opportunity to appreciate his now free cock resting against his defined stomach. It twitches beautifully as you blow on it lightly
Your hands push his legs open further and you position yourself comfortably between them. While tucking a strand of hair behind your ear you lean forward to kiss his blushing tip lovingly. The hitch of his breath is music to your ears as he mutters your name encouragingly. You follow the path of a prominent vein with the tip of your tongue all the way from his base to his tip where you give him a series of kitten licks while holding his base with loose fingers. Finally, you flatten your tongue against his cock before swirling it around the head. A guttural moan sounds from his chest as you give into his desires.
Hollowing your cheeks you take him into your mouth, you make sure to coat him generously with your saliva. A hand fists into your hair, keeping it out of your face as the other grasps the armrest with all the pent up energy he is trying not to exert on you. Tony knows this is to help him relax, he is just having a hard time doing so when you look so pretty with his dick in your mouth.
Your lips release his member, a string of drool connecting you to him as you take in his tense form. No, this won't do.
“Relax T,” your voice is gentle as you pepper kisses along his abdomen, stroking him softly as the other hand rubs his thigh reassuringly.
He finally sinks back into the chair as you suck delicately on the head of his leaking cock, your soft hand caressing the length of his now lubricated member. You stay like this for a beat until you decide to grasp him firmer, he smirks down at you. Tony watches with lidded eyes as the hand on his thigh makes its way under your dress pants to graze lightly against your lips, spreading the dampness before rubbing your bulb slowly.
“What a greedy girl, making me feel so good, my girl,” he says, making your hands move a little faster, “all mine.” His head lulls back in pleasure.
You remain at this pace, inserting a finger into your now sopping hole trying to match the speed of your hand around Tony’s cock. Your head moves down to mouth lazily at his balls causing a groan from the man above you. Your thumb rubs against his sensitive tip spreading pre cum as your hand begins to twist around him only adding to his bliss.
Tony’s breathing starts to become laboured, but you don’t move faster to help him finish – you want him to stay this relaxed as long as possible. His hips shift slightly in his seat before shallowly thrusting against the smoothness of your palm. Your arousal grows so you add another finger to stretch your dripping hole.
Balls tighten against your tongue and you know he is close, “shit, honey I can’t hold it much longer.” The fingers in your hair tug lightly in warning as he curses under his breath, then he uses both hands to guide you off his member. You whine in response, “I know baby it felt too good, I don’t want it to end yet.”
Hips moving on their own you begin to grind against your fingers, resting your head against Tony’s thigh as he watches you while regaining his breath. His large, rough hands remain on your head, pushing the hair out of the way and caressing your cheek. Your mouth opens wide as you continue to stroke yourself, pressing against Tony’s slumped form. Tony watches mesmerized as your stomach tightens and soft whimpers free from you.
“Thaaaat’s it, cum for me baby, it’ll make it easier to fuck you,” and that encouragement is what sends you over the edge with a loud cry.
With heavy breaths you rest your forehead against Tony’s thigh, but he grows impatient after a moment so he guides you to stand and tenderly removes your clothing. You stand bare in front of him as he grazes the curve of your waist with the back of his hand. The movement feels so domestic in contrast to the usual professionalism you share during the work day. Hands grip your hips tightly as they drag you down to sit on his lap.
Each knee is positioned beside his hips and you lift up to drag your drenched lips against the length of his member. You both gasp as you reach down to slide his tip across your slit, it catches lightly on the hole and his hands tighten impossibly on your body.
“Don't tease,” his lips brush against the skin of your collarbone and you position his dripping head to breach your entrance. With a strangled moan you sink down on him until your hips meet. You remain completely seated on him for a moment, grinding softly against him to adjust. His teeth sink into the skin where shoulder meets neck and your hands shoot to perch on his shoulders at the new sensation.
Lifting softly you still just before his tip, then sink back down slowly. Tony’s muscular arms, the ones you shamefully admired as he would hammer away at his suit, wrap around your torso pulling your chest flush against his. Your hardened nipples find friction against his pecs as you begin to bounce.
“Please baby, feels so good, need it so bad,” Tony whines in your ears that feel entirely too warm, his hips beginning to meet yours as you move harder, “yeah c'mon hunny.”
Tony fills you so well it is almost overwhelming. He grows desperate, any calm you had managed to instill in him before gone completely as he drives upward, your breasts rippling with the movement. You meet him with a fervor of your own while kissing him passionately. Tongues tangling, shattered gasps, whispered praises, both of you fight to make the other feel pleasurable. The whole scene is desperate.
The chair beneath you squeaks as your knees dig painfully into the material. Callused hands roam wildy against your body leaving goosebumps in their trail. One large hand reaches up to cradle the back of your head, holding your foreheads together strongly. His lidded eyes that once looked so drained now show passion behind them. His blown pupils decorated by puffy eyebags, a reminder of why you started this exchange, stare down at where you meet, mesmerized by the squelching noises your pussy makes as it squeezes around him. A tough thumb brushes against your sensitive clit making you arch against him. This allows him to reach a new angle, one that forces his angry tip to push bluntly against that delicious spot inside you.
The rest of his large hand stretches to hold the length of your waist as his thumb strokes you eagerly, his index extending to your ribs. The movement has you squirming against him, digging your nails into the muscle of his shoulders as you drop yourself down on him harder, ignoring the growing pain in your thighs from the effort.
Tony’s mouth, usually so quick witted, now drops in a silence. A deep flush decorates his cheeks from the exertion of his movement, as well as his valiant effort trying so hard to hold off his building orgasm until you finish.
“Say your mine,” he demands breathlessly, your foreheads still pressed together.
“Yes Tony, I’ve always been yours,” your speech is littered with shallow breaths.
“I’ve looked into some of those guys you’ve gone out with, should’ve come to me sooner. I could’ve made you feel so good honey,” he mumbles mindlessly, his thumb pressing down harder on your nub.
“God, it's always been you, only ever you,” he throws his head back with a moan that sounds like it has been ripped from deep within him, “no one else can make me feel this good, you are doing so well Tony.” Your head finds a spot leaning against his shoulder and neck, kissing the thin skin there adoringly.
His thrusts grow sloppy and he does everything he can to tighten that knot in your stomach.
“M’so close,” you babble. He shifts uncontrollably under you and his head is thrown forward so his mouth can drag across your neck. You move to rake your nails through his hair and he whimpers against your ear at the feeling.
You clench down and pulse uncontrollably around his cock forced inside you. A fresh wave of wetness spills from you and Tony can’t bear the slick slide your soft walls against him as he forces you down onto his cock. He cums with a deep whine against your skin.
Both of your pants fill the otherwise quiet room, your racing heartbeat filling your ears as your spotted vision comes back. Your soft hand rubs his back as you slump against each other's sweaty bodies and he holds you close. His softening member is still stuffed inside your tired hole.
You brush your nose along the length of the slumped neck resting against you until you reach his ear, “you better sleep well after that.”
He smiles into the skin of your shoulder before nodding lightly, “baby I may not wake up again.”
Some of the words he said during the heat of the moment finally process in your foggy mind, “did you really research those dates I had?”
The vibration of his hum sends a wave of chills through your nude body. “Had JARVIS look into ‘em, cant have my girl getting whisked away from me,” his voice is exhausted as he speaks into the skin of your shoulder.
No words come from you, you only look down at him with a soft smile adorning your flushed face.
My Girl
The pet name reverberates through your empty head. Perhaps he felt just as drawn to you over these past two years.
"When the rain washes you clean, you'll know" -- Dreams (Fleetwood Mac)
A gentle tapping against the walls stops me in my tracks, a sprawl of darkness approaches. Rain, great.
I abandon my course to jog outside and instead head to the gym. I have never used the athletic facilities in the building so I am shocked by its extensiveness. Although, I really should not be surprised, of course Stark would have only the best equipment.
It is massive, a wall of windows look over New York. It must be quite glorious when the sun streams in, but today it is cast in a shadow of grey making it seem moody. I head to one of the treadmills that line the glass wall. They are those fancy ones that adjust to a video, one I have always dreamed of but could never justify purchasing. Jarvis has to guide me through the process: "It is quite alright Agent Reese, Captain Rogers also has difficulty navigating Stark Tech."
I roll my eyes, "Thanks Jarvis, really makes me feel clever."
"Of course ma'am, it is important to note that Mr. Stark has enabled a feature that allows you to select any location in the world. Any where you would like to visit for an hour or so?"
I reply without thought, "Tuscany."
"Very well Agent Reese, an excellent choice."
Rolling hills, crashing waves along the coastline, beautiful mountain views. I become lost in my run, absolutely enthralled by the scenery. A flash of lightening and a sharp crack of thunder causes my head to snap up. My hands instinctively grasp the railing and my feet steady themselves on the side of the track as my chest heaves. The thumping of my heartbeat fills my ears.
"Are you alright Agent Reese, your heart rate is fairly high," Jarvis speaks soothingly. He pauses the treadmill.
"Yes, I think I just ran a little longer than I realized," my speech is littered with heavy breaths.
"Yes, you were quite captured. You have a message pertaining a new message, ma'am."
The towel feels rough as I drag it down my face collecting cold sweat.
---------------
"Romanoff, I would advise you slow your pace that way you will come across as less threatening," I say over the comms, watching the screens in front of me. I pick at my nail as the rain pushes against the windows to my right in heavy waves.
"Anything for me?" Steves voice overlaps with a deep rumble. My gaze becomes fixed on the violent scene outside, "Reese?" he tries for my attention.
"Sorry, your target is clearly unstable. You will need to be gentle but firm with him, authoritative yet understanding. I think he can be reasoned with so you do not need to use much force."
"Copy," he replies.
Somewhere along the way things fall to chaos. They manage to handle any physical threats, but both Romanoff and Rogers bombard me with questions. I do my best to juggle both their tasks.
"He's not listening, Reese I need your help here," Rogers speaks through grunts, deep in a fight.
"You're not the only one," Romanoff says with snark. Their voices overlap and I pinch my brow trying to focus on their separate requests.
"Reese-" a resoundingly deep clap of thunder interrupts Steve's stressed voice. Darkness envelops me causing a my stomach to tense. I stand while looking around the room frantically, the lights flicker back after what feels like an eternity. "Vivienne!" Rogers' sharp yell comes through distorted in my earpiece.
"God! Just-just use the north exit. You are right there, they won't follow you out rather they will fall back to protect the stash," I manage to force out. My feet move on their own in a circle around the room. Thank the stars they manage to get out with the target.
A soft nock at the door is lost in the thrashing rain. "Jesus," I mutter while harshly ripping out my ear piece.
"Hey," a gentle voice comes from just inside the room.
I turn to face Bruce, staring at him blankly.
"I just wanted to see if the computers are all good after the power went- oh, are you ok?" I follow his sight to my bleeding finger.
I stalk to the table and grab a tissue, holding it to my finger with a huff. "I'm fine," I murmur exasperated.
Ignoring my hostility, he walks towards me and grabs my hand to inspect it, "c'mon I'll clean this up in the lab."
So, I follow him.
He works in silence, cleaning it tenderly. My ears perk at another boom outside.
"Not a fan of storms?," he asks without looking up from my hand.
I don't respond to which he looks at me over his glasses, a knowing smile on his face. Tony bursts into the room describing at length how he and Bruce need to modify the power only noticing my silent form after he finishes his declaration. "Viv, what are you doing here?" he asks curiously.
I roll my eyes at the nickname, he has been calling me that since last month's party. "Just here for my check up," I plaster an intentionally fake looking smile on my lips.
Bruce finishes bandaging my hand then pats it gently with a smile, "there you go, all patched up."
"Thanks Dr. Banner," he smiles tightly in return.
I walk towards the door and just pass Stark when he stops me, "You look like you could use a drink," he points at me, "and don't say no, I haven't been able to get you drunk since last month." I raise an eyebrow in agreement, we turn to Banner who only shakes his head engrossed by his work.
I sit at the common room bar, Tony behind the counter. A flash outside lights up the otherwise dark scene.
"It's a bad one huh? Can't complain though," I look at him in disbelief. "was meant to go to some banquet with Pepper but it got canceled on account of the, and I quote, 'torrential downpour'," he explains mockingly. Twisting a bottle open, the popping veins on his arms are on full display after he rolled his sleeves.
"You weren't sad to miss a date with Miss Potts?" I ask cheekily.
He dismisses me with a wave, "sure she wasn't either, who wants to spend an evening with their annoying boss?"
I chuckle amused, "what about an evening with their annoying boyfriend?"
His face contorts into one of confusion, my face mirrors his. "Are you two not ... together?"
He laughs in disbelief, "Me and Potts? God no."
I can only manage a small "huh" in return.
He goes on to cackle periodically at my misjudgement.
"Stark, grow up. I am not the only who thought that," I say annoyed.
"Yeah, the tabloids. Isn't it your job to read relationships Viv," he pokes back.
My drink pauses just before my lip as I glare at him, "stop calling me that."
His lip twitches around the rim of his bottle, the edge of his jaw illuminated by the ark reactor. "Hmm," he feigns a face of someone who is deep in thought, "no, I don't think I will."
I throw a bar peanut at him, annoyance settling deep in my bones, unaware of the growing winds outside.
------------
"What the hell happened?" Romanoff bursts into the common room with Rogers behind her, both still in their mission suits.
I spin in my stool to face them. The pair stop in front of me, Romanoff with hands on her hips and a concerned expression decorating her pretty face. Steve looks at Stark over my shoulder, who I assume has a shit eating grin pleased with the fact I am about to get reprimanded, and his composure falters.
The storm creeps back into my awareness. "The power went out, I lost contact with you both," I reply flatly.
"Jesus," she turns her anger to Stark, "you need to fix your fucking system. We lost contact during a..." she looks around like she is searching for a word.
"Pivotal," Steve says for her with a hint of annoyance. She points to him.
"Yes, pivotal part of a mission, only god knows how we got out with the target."
Stark does not seem affected by her fury, "trust me, I know. Already cooking up some upgrades."
They go back and forth, Natasha expressing her anger and Stark unmoved by it. I meet eyes with Steve, his sapphire blues swimming with unspecified emotions. I get up to retreat to my room, but Steve follows.
We stand together in the elevator quietly. He turns to me. "Are you ok?" he asks suddenly, I know he is referring to my display during the mission.
I stare at my distorted reflection on the wall, "yes, I apologize for how disorganized I was."
The doors open revealing my floor. Steve steps out with me, following the path to my room.
"It's alright, you just didn't seem like yourself," he says walking beside me. He has to shorten his stride to keep pace. Clearly he does not want to pry, but he wants to understand my lapse.
I let out a humourless laugh as I stop in front of my door, "Captain Rogers, I appreciate the concern. However, we have known each other for about 4 months and I would not say personally." I turn to look at him as I open the door. He fights to stop himself from saying something, his defined jaw clenching. My face softens, "thank you for asking." He inhales audibly and nods.
My hands stall on the door as I look inside my room, then back to him. He waits expectantly, not out right asking to join me -- ever the gentleman. A small smile breaches my emotionless mask. "Would you like a coffee? I'm sure you could use some warmth" I glance at the remaining dampness in his hair from the harsh weather outside.
He looks down at his battered suit. "It's ok, I don't mind if the place gets a little beat up - that's Stark's problem," I reassure him. He chuckles lightly and follows me inside.
I look out the windows to see the rain has softened to a light mist and release a heavy breath. Out of the corner of my eye I see Steve observe my space as he removes the shield from his back and leans it against the wall. It seems so natural, a glimpse of something real compared to the professionalism I have grown accustomed to.
"Is your place like this?" I ask over my shoulder while preparing our coffees.
"Um, not exactly. I'd say our quarters are a bit bigger," he is being humble I can tell.
"Of course," I mutter under my breath. Stark would stick me in the smallest space -- still better than my room on the helecarrier.
I turn to see him looking at the photos on my wall. "They are from university," I say handing him a mug. We stand beside each other as I reminisce.
"Looks like you had fun," he says amused looking at a photo of me and some friends at a costume party, clearly not sober. A hum is the only acknowledgment he gets. "Sometimes I wish I got to go to college," he says staring soberly at the memories on my wall. Our eyes meet in the reflection.
"I forget you are an elder citizen," I reply dryly.
He shakes his head, I turn my gaze to watch the way his eyes crinkle from a soft smile. "Yeah, the war was not as fun," he gestures to a picture of me and my best friend beaming at the camera, every tooth on display with how wide we laughed. I stare at myself from before I hardened at S.H.I.E.L.D. and something odd shoots through me.
With a heavy breath I turn to face him, leaning against the wall. "Do you have any pictures from then?"
An affectionate look crosses his face as he pulls something out of a utility pocket in his suit. He places a compass gently in my hand. I open it to reveal a black and white photo of a woman, "she's pretty."
"Her names Peggy, one of the founders of S.H.I.E.L.D." he says fondly. Leaning my head beside a picture on the wall, I watch the way Steve looks at the photo in my hand -- with love.
"Well, now I know who to thank for my job," I say wryly, flicking the lid closed harsher than I should and handing it back. Steve doesn't comment on my aggression.
He then pulls a necklace out from under his chest piece and over his heads, handing it to me. I hold it up to catch the light in the kitchenette: "James B. Barnes". I give him a questioning look.
"Bucky, my best friend from Brooklyn. He didn't make it," he says looking at the coffee in his hand.
"I'm sorry," I place a gentle hand on his arm, feeling the firmness below. He stares at where we touch.
"Im used to it, not a lot of pals from the 40's are still around anyways."
I move to sit at my small couch, hand dragging across his arm as I leave. He stays put, continuing to inspect the rest of the pictures. "They're not that interesting," I say from the couch.
"I think they are," he says softly, turning his head to look at me over his shoulder. After a moment of studying me he continues, "you seem so different." My gaze drops to the floor. "Not in a bad way," he clarifies, "just ... different, not so professional is all."
I snort at this knowing some photos are entirely unprofessional. "I rather you see them than Tony," I look back at him now, "ever since he heard someone call me a nickname he won't let go of it, I can't be humanized around him." He laughs.
"What nickname?"
"No, I don't want to say. You'll only torment me with it as well," I say defiantly.
"Let me guess, honey? Sunshine? Sugar? Darling?" shaking my head with every guess, I cross my legs tightly as my stomach clenches.
"V? Viv?" I freeze. A victoriously bright smile spreads on his face as he walks over to where I sit on the couch. "Oh that's it isn't it?"
"No, I've never heard such a ridiculous name," I say trying to fortify my face.
"I hate a liar," he teases as he sits close to me, "are you lying to me sweetheart?"
My breath catches in my chest. No, I don't think I can handle another nickname. "It is Viv," I reply breathlessly forcing myself to look away by placing my mug on the table.
Still watching me he says softly, "don't worry Reese, I won't call you that."
Our eyes meet, his twinkling with a playfulness I have never seen from him. "Thanks Cap," now he looks away.
"Only if you don't call me Cap," he doesn't meet my eye again.
can you find me?" -- Drag Path (Twenty One Pilots)
Making my way towards the kitchen I hear laughter from the adjacent common room. My steps slow as I wonder if I should just go back to my room. But my kitchenette only has a stovetop, not an actual oven and I have been craving a real, home cooked meal.
I enter the kitchen trying not to disturb the figures in the other room, or even alert them of my presence at that. Lightly placing my supplies on the counter I survey my work space. It is different with the light of day, I have only ventured out here at night when I am certain no one will notice me; It works given that Stark is always in his lab tinkering away with Bruce, while the other two do whatever it is they do in the darkness.
I start with washing my ingredients. Then the rhythmic chopping of knives and stirring of pots drowns out the conversation I was absently listening to in the other room.
I become lost in the act that seems so domestic and familiar in an otherwise foreign environment. The only sound that matters is the sizzling on the stove.
A soft hand on my arm causes me to drop my knife. Turning around on instinct I see a humoured Natasha. Suddenly conscious of my surroundings I become aware of the soft, pulsing sound of Jarvis' timer. Jumping into action I remove the food from the oven, luckily it is not burnt.
Rather dramatically I place a hand on my heart, willing myself to return to a state of calm after my abrupt scare. Natasha laughs at this.
"If I was an intruder I'd be real scared," Stark comments sarcastically from across the counter in the common room.
Natasha's lips tick upwards, "maybe don't drop your weapon when someone sneaks up on you."
My ears start to tingle with embarrassment, I let out an annoyed huff while wiping my hands. "Yes, well I will remember that next time I face any real danger," I retort pushing past Natasha to the fridge.
Stark gasps, feigning hurt, "are we not real enough for you?"
"You are unfortunately too real for my liking," I look at him as I head back to my work.
"Smells good, you like to cook?" Natasha asks watching me cut herbs with precision.
"Thanks, it is a passion of mine," I reply zoned in on the task at hand. We go on to discuss the wonders of the culinary world, she tells me about all the different food she has tried on her missions.
I look at her like a man in love, "I would love to go to Italy, it has always been an aspiration of mine. I have to say I am a bit jealous of how well travelled you all are."
"Well, it's not like we get to go on a lot of sight seeing but when I get a chance I like to explore. Have you always been behind a desk?" she asks now sitting across the island.
I scoff turning to look at her while stirring a pot on the stove. "Yeah, Fury scooped me up right out of school when I was bright eyed and dreamy, been an analyst ever since," annoyance oozes out of me.
I am grateful for this job, I shouldn't be saying this to her. But it is true, I cannot help but feel taken advantage of by S.H.I.E.L.D.
She tilts her head in understanding, "I get that, Barton was the one to recruit me. I appreciate the opportunity but I must say, S.H.I.E.L.D. is not exactly what I expected." There is clearly something deeper beneath her words, a mistrust towards authority and organizations.
"Hush they are keeping a closer eye on us. Don't want to upset Daddy now do we?" Stark returns handing Natasha a glass of something alcoholic.
"Oh are they?" She looks to me without an ounce of concern.
I nod, "after a few ... disappointing missions they have decided it is best to watch the team closely for the forseeable future. You are right Stark, they may even be listening to us now." I suddenly become serious, god I should know not to speak so openly.
"Yeah right, SHIELD wouldn't be able to access my system even with all their analysts," I look at him pointedly, "sorry. But if they were listening I'd know," Stark says confidently as he hands me a glass.
"Well I'm almost done here," they look at me expectantly, "I guess I have about enough that I could maybe, just about, scarcely fill a couple more plates," a small smile fights to appear on my face.
They look to one another in a faux silent debate of whether they should accept.
"I could be persuaded, but fair warning I will be leaving a Yelp review," Stark says, not even finishing his sentence before making his way to the kitchen.
"Hm, and he is a harsh critic," Natasha follows him.
"The harshest," Tony continues, a mischievous glint to his eyes.
---------
Tony points his fork at the meal in front of him, "you cooked this? No, no I refuse to believe it. J must have walked you through the steps."
Natasha murmurs her approval.
"No seriously, I was prepared to make fun of you. Now I just feel lost," he says solemnly.
I can't hold back my entertained expression, "wow, the only way you are able to communicate with me is through mockery?"
He now points his fork at me across the table, "you are not one to talk. What's the last nice thing you said about," he points the fork to himself, "me? hmm."
I fail to answer resulting in a wicked chuckle from Natasha.
"Do something worth complimenting and I'll be nice to you," I finally retort prompting another bout of muffled laughter from Natasha's stuffed mouth.
Tony gets up to make another round of drinks.
"Maybe I should just get you to cater my party tomorrow, the last guy was terrible. Remember the shrimp cocktail Romanoff?" he calls out, his back to us.
Natasha nods then looks to me like the memory disturbs her, "I think Bruce got food poisoning that night."
"Not the only one," Tony throws over his shoulder. He returns handing us our drinks.
"You can't afford me," I say smirking over my glass at Stark.
He raises an eyebrow and tilts his head while retaining eye contact. "Trust me, I can. The least you could do then is actually show up, Rogers will be fresh out of medical leave so it'll be a good one."
"Yes! I need some more feminine energy that isn't strippers, and you've turned us down every other time," Natasha adds. She is right, I haven't accepted any of there invitations to drinks or one of Starks Gatsby like parties with the goal of remaining professional.
Stark must see me about to decline and interrupts my line of thought, "there are no missions for you to run away to tomorrow, so I really don't see how you can get out of this."
I sit quietly for a moment, weighing it over. "Fine," is all I say.
They both look shocked at my response, probably expecting me to at least put up more of a fight. A triumphant smile appears on Starks face.
--------------
Thumping music and flashing lights take over my senses. Alcohol and sweat are all I can smell as I enter Stark's party. He is renowned for this, and he is probably celebrating Steves return to the field as well as my reluctant acceptance to come so this may be one of his bigger events
I push against the sea of bodies towards the bar. As I wait for my drink I look around the room, other agents I vaguely recognize are scattered throughout the mass of people. There is no one in particular I want to talk to.
I turn my attention back to the bartender watching as he perform elaborate tricks while preparing my drink. With a final flourish my beverage is placed in front of me. Thank god.
He watches intently as I taste it, I hum in approval. A proud grin spreads across his handsome face. Maybe there is someone worth talking to.
"You like it?" he says speaking loudly over the music. I nod. "It's one of my favourites, you have good taste."
I look him up and down, "thanks."
"I noticed you eyeing my garnishes, you mix?" he asks.
"No, I cook. Wanted to see what herbs Stark stole from me." He laughs revealing a single dimple on his cheek.
"You any good?"
"I like to think so," I reply with a tilt of my head.
He makes a motion inviting me around the bar, I look at him questioningly.
"I'll teach you how to make it" he explains.
I wait a moment, then make my way looking over my shoulder to make sure Stark does not see. He could be anywhere, there are so many people it is hard to make anyone out -- which means he won't be able to find me either.
"I'm Robby," he extends his hand.
"Vivienne," I take his hand in my own.
"Vivienne," he tries it out still grasping my hand, "I like that. Can I call you Viv?"
I nod with a smile.
He explains with passion how to make my drink, directing any other customers to the other bar tenders. Laughing at a joke he made, I try and fail to mimic his tricks. We are interrupted by a loud, agitating voice, "Its like I'm in Cocktail."
"What?" I yell at Stark, voice straining to be heard over the thunderous music.
"The movie, you know with Tom Cruise." He looks at me expectantly then shifts his attention to the body behind me, eyes zoning in on the way Robby's arms cradle my body to help guide me. "I don't think I'm paying you to romance my guests," he says sharply.
Robby raises his hands in surrender, "what can I get you Mr. Stark?"
He looks at the drink in my hand then back to the close proximity between Robby and myself. "I'll just have whatever she made," he says flatly.
"Stark, I don't think you want this. My bartending and cooking are not comparable," I say with a smile, feeling slightly fuzzy around the edges with how much alcohol I have had. He looks at me sternly so I pour it in a glass and place it in front of him, stepping away just enough that I no longer feel Robby's body heat.
He tastes it then frowns, "could use some work." He downs the drink and grabs my arm guiding me around the counter.
Feeling like a kid caught stealing cookies, I look back at Robby with a crooked smirk -- half amusement, half embarrassment. "See you later Viv," he says with a toothy grin then he turns to a customer.
"Viv?" Stark repeats the nickname like he can't believe the scene in front of him. I only smile lopsidedly in return, the alcohol coursing through me makes me feel heady. His grip on my elbow tightens as he drags me through the labyrinth of people, a cold expression carved into his face.
He slows his mad pace as we approach a table littered with empty bottles. Natasha jumps to her feet once she sees me. "I didn't think you'd actually come," Romanoff says as she speed walks to my side, body checking Stark out the way. He groans irritatedly, like the sound was forced out of him. I watch Steve's awkward expression as he processes my presence.
Your analysis is to let him die, your analysis is wrong!
I sober briefly.
Pepper walks up to me holding a tray full of shots. "Here," she hands me some, "you two look like you could use them," she says gesturing to Romanoff and myself.
I go to hand Natasha one but she already has a glass in hand, probably grabbed it as soon as Pepper approached. Still feeling the effects of my drinks, in a spur of the moment decision I tap Tony's arm.
He turns annoyed and opens his mouth but I beat him to it. "Here is my apology for going behind the bar," I say extending a shot glass towards him.
"Oh, he doesn't like to be-" Pepper starts but quiets as Tony takes the shot from my hand, " .... handed things," she finishes confused.
We take our shots.
"You don't like to be handed things? That just goes to shows what a megalomaniac you are," I exclaim feeling the liquor full force.
"Look at you and your big doctor words, Viv," he returns, clearly also under the influence of his drinks. He grabs my empty glass and discards it somewhere.
I scoff exasperated. "Don't call me that, Anthony," I retort scrunching my face in annoyance.
"Don't distract my bartender!" He grabs two more shots off Pepper's tray who now is deep in conversation with Natasha, both ignoring the usual bickering between Stark and I. "Behind the bar is a restricted zone," he says dramatically while forming an 'x' symbol with both his index fingers, still with a shot in each hand.
"Please, like restrictions have ever stopped you before. I've experienced first hand the way you disobey orders Stark," the incredulous expression on my face grows deeper with each passing moment.
He hands me a shot and we throw it back in unison.
"Don't call me Anthony," he says firmly. Stepping forward he forces my neck to crane in order to maintain our battle-like eye contact.
I furrow my brows in defiance while studying him. I see the emotions masked by anger swimming beneath the surface. We observe each other a long while, the rest of the party grows blurry from the shots.
"Ok," I mumble so quietly it's impossible he heard it over the deafening music, but he relaxes nonetheless. He looks away from me, assessing the crowd. Stark places a firm but gentle hand on my arm to move me aside as he pushes past. He walks into the crowd as I stand frozen, watching where he disappears.
Natasha grabs my hand and pulls me to the couch, "what the hell were you two fighting about now?"
"Went behind the bar, was distracting the bartender," I murmur sinking into the cushions.
She lets out a breathy laugh, "were you ... flirting with each other?"
My head swing around to look at her too fast and I squeeze my eyes shut to refocus them. "Me and Robby? yeah," I say like it like it is obvious.
A devilish grin spreads across her face, blushing lightly from all the alcohol. "Good for you, you've been here what? About 3 months. Im guessing you haven't gotten any since you've been here, explains the bad attitude. You need to get laid!" she cocks an eyebrow at me.
A choking sound draws our attention. Steve sits embarrassed in a chair across from us, clearly having spit some of his drink out.
My mouth draws into what I imagine is a villainous smirk, "I don't think Captain Conservative over there can handle this conversation right now Nat." She guffaws then becomes quiet.
Her sudden silence concerns me so I shift my position to face her entirely. She takes in my drawn eyebrows and a small smile works its way onto her face. Her eyes dart behind me and I throw my head to follow her line of site to Stark, dancing on the counter with some blonde directly in front of Robby. She brightens as if she has made a great discovery only she knows.
"What?" I ask incredibly confused.
Natasha's smile only widens, eyes crinkling at the edges as she shakes her head. Getting up abruptly, she pats my head affectionately like a mother who is keeping a surprise from her children then heads off towards Tony. I watch as she joins him on the counter, forcing him to dance with her rather than the blonde.
My head lulls back to rest on the couch. After studying the ceiling for a while, my head rolls to the side and I see Steve watching me. My smile echoes the last one I sent his way and he diverts his gaze.
"Steve," I call out.
"Yes?" he replies, concern clear on his chiseled face.
"You're looking awfully sober," I spread my arms to rest on the back of the couch, my cheek smooshed against one as I watch him.
He looks down sheepishly to the glass in his hand, "that's because I am, serum means I metabolize alcohol too fast to feel the effects."
One of my hands claps my heart, "oh you poor thing."
He laughs quietly, "it's not all bad. Means I get to really see people when they are drunk, like you." A charming smile spreads across his face.
I scoff while looking at the crowd of heavily drunk people. "Yeah what a treat," I say sarcastically as someone throws up near by.
I turn my attention back to Rogers as he continues assessing the crowd. I take this as an opportunity to observe him and I unashamedly look at his physique. His body looks so big in that chair, and the way his glass looks so small in his hands, he is almost godlike.
Interesting.
My inspection finds its way back to the ceiling and the lights bouncing off the walls.
They're quite aware of what they're going through" -- Changes (David Bowie)
TO: Agent Vivienne Reese
FROM: Director Nicholas J. Fury
SUBJECT: Observation
Agent Reese,
It seems you are delivering, the team is not.
I reviewed mission footage and am unimpressed with the team's behaviour -- it appears this is an ongoing issue, do not downplay this for their sake. I expect full transparency.
If issues continue inform me immediately as we cannot afford anymore errors. Otherwise, I am directing your future reports to Coulson and Hill.
We will be keeping a keen eye on the Avengers for the foreseeable future.
Stay sharp,
Fury
-------------------
I stare at my computer for a long time, so long that my screen turns black and I face my reflection. Things were going well, there was a brief period of optimism after my talk with the team.
The first few missions after went smoothly, but one was perfect. No casualties. Clear and open communication between the team and myself. They actually asked for my input and it paid off.
"Yes!" I had thought while watching them, "Yes! We are becoming an operation, perhaps even a well oiled machine." I didn't need to be their friend, but I was becoming a part of the unit. They were starting to see me as I am: a tool. Hell, I even considered going for drinks with them after.
Alas, all things end, and our short lived bout of camaraderie is proof. One would expect Tony to disrupt the cycle, but it was actually Natasha.
She went rogue, a habit I presume she picked up in her harrowing past. It was in an orphanage; some crazed doctor was trying to enhance the children. She was on edge from the beginning, but there was a pivotal moment that sent her over. A girl. Probably about 12 with shaggy brown hair. She was distracting her little sister, a cute little blonde, during all the commotion. They were doing ballet I think, or maybe tap.
Something about this sight set Natasha off. She wouldn't listen to anyone or speak as she went on what I can only describe as a rampage.
Next was Tony. He gradually started to ignore my recommendations, slipping into his egotistical ways. He's a genius after all and they are the hardest to work with. Always have to be right, even if they know they aren't they must twist the truth as to not damage their precious image. That foolish man. Thinks he's so charming too, flashes smiles expecting me to roll over in adoration after he risked the integrity of the entire mission.
Bruce has not gone out on a single mission. Even in the lab he is no help; instead of focusing on missions he is doing something else entirely. I haven't the faintest idea what he could possibly be doing.
Finally, Steve. This is the real disappointment. After I practically chastised the team, Steve set the example. We even had some conversations that lasted longer than the usual five words. Mostly, he wanted to understand my work, what my position is, how I was trained, anything and everything I felt like sharing. Unfortunately, when I recommended he be promoted to captain I didn't have the foresight to see this would create some power struggles. He always gets the final say, at least in his mind.
There was this one instance that stopped me in my tracks. I explicitly said not to engage. "Wait," I said, confident he would listen, "if you go now they will panic and kill the hostage. Once they get comfortable they become sloppy." I had the habit of explaining my reasoning to Steve more than anyone else, I suspect because he had shown so much interest in my job.
"No, I need to go now," he replied. At this point I wasn't shocked, this was common for them to share their thoughts.
"They just arrived. This period is peak attentiveness and aggression, let them simmer out Captain."
He advanced rapidly as I again reiterated my warning. There was no one else on the mission to interrupt his movement, just me and him.
"Stop!" he said loud enough to be forceful, "I make the field calls. Your analysis is to let him die, your analysis is wrong."
I momentarily couldn't speak, he had never shown me any animosity before. I regained my composure too late and he and the hostage sustained heavy injuries. That was just one day ago and I haven't spoken to Steve since.
I get up to pace my office.
How is this possible? Such rapid decline, we are back to square one. No, lower. I can't trust any of them on the field. Fury was right, the Avengers themselves are their greatest threat.
"Want some ice cream? Stay up to watch the Titanic?" I spin around to see the only possible source of such idiocracy: Stark.
"What?" I say, an incredulous expression clear on my face. Usually I am fairly collected, but around Stark I cannot stop my emotions from bleeding to the surface.
"Since you're going through a breakup. I heard about the fight with Rogers," he explains sauntering over to inspect my bar cart, "I know you prefer him over me, god knows why, but I wanted to be of some comfort to a friend during hard times," he pours two drinks.
I scoff, "is that what we are? Friends?"
He hands me a glass. "Well we're sharing a drink so we must be at least friendly."
We sit across from each other at my desk, drinks in hand.
"If it's any consolation, I think he feels pretty bad about it. I'm sure Captain Compassion will eventually stop beating himself up then make amends, you'll be back in the honeymoon phase before you know it girlfriend," he says with a hint of snark.
I shift my gaze towards him. "I don't know, he can be pretty set in his moral compass. Captain Rogers clearly thought he did the best thing in that situation," I reply.
"Which I guess one could see as admirable," Stark says drawing out the word 'guess' which actually makes me laugh. A smirk etches its way on his face.
"Well, since we are such good friends," I raise an eyebrow at him to which he hums in agreement, "I feel it is my duty to inform you that S.H.I.E.L.D. will be paying much closer attention to future missions."
He dismisses this with a wave of his hand causing me to deadpan.
"Do you actually not care, or is this just a facade to cope with the fact it's no longer just me you need to impress?" I ask with a smirk.
He takes a slow sip of his drink then looks at me seriously, "don't joke, I always impress you. Besides, I think you're jealous you'll have to compete for my attention now, with the extra audience and all."
I raise both eyebrows at him, but he only stares back at me. My eyes briefly dart down to assess the way he is sitting. Lazy. Spread out, taking up as much space as he can like he doesn't have a care in the world. Like he owns this whole building and plenty of others.
I force my gaze to the window. We sit peacefully for a long moment.
"Sir, Miss Potts is here to see you in the lab," Jarvis' voice fills the silent room.
My eyes dart to Stark and how his hand grips his glass harder for a brief moment. He stays seated, like he is almost reluctant to leave.
I hum amused, "trouble in paradise?"
"Me and Pepper? No," he finally pushes off his chair, downs his drink and reaches forward to place it on my desk, "I couldn't run this place without her."
"Don't let Jarvis hear you say that," he turns to point at me in agreement before leaving the room without another word.
I sit in silence staring at our two glasses.
For a moment there I forgot all the reasons I find Stark absolutely vexing and I am disturbed to realize we actually got along.
-----------------
I pause outside the door, standing quietly in the flourescent lighting of the medical wing.
Why am I even here? Did my conversation with Stark inspire me to make amends with Steve? I mean, if I can get along with him for as long as I did clearly I can reconnect with Rogers.
No, I am doing this because we need to be on somewhat good terms in order to work efficiently --- especially with the extra eyes on us. Definitely not because some small, insignificant part of me was momentarily hurt by his words.
I nock on the door and wait awkwardly for approval to enter. I open the door and step inside internally battling if I should just leave, mentally replaying the harshness of Steves voice when he snapped.
His eyes widen once he sees me. "Reese," he says clearly a little shocked at my presence.
I give him a tight lipped smile, clasping my hands in front of me.
Your analysis is to let him die, your analysis is wrong!
I rock on my heels while looking around the room. It's nice for a medical wing, comfortable.
"How are you feeling?" I break the silence.
He takes a moment to respond, "Fine." I nod.
"When are you able to leave?"
"Thursday or Friday," I tilt my head in confusion -- I heard how seriously he was injured, "the serum helps me heal faster."
I hum in understanding.
"Well that's convenient, you will be out just in time for one of Stark's parties," he doesn't laugh.
We sit in painful silence.
"Well, I just wanted to see how you are," I make a move to leave. Just as I grab the door handle he calls my name.
I turn to look at him, one hand still on the door. "I'm sorry for how harsh I was, I know you are just doing your job. But sometimes I disagree," he explains.
I nod my head, "I get that, but it is important not to let emotion guide judgement."
He chuckles at this, "sounds like something Coulson would say."
I smile lightly then step out the room. As I look back to close the door Steve is watching me. Our eyes meet for a brief moment before he quickly looks away.
"Out there in the dark, there's a beckoning candle
And while I can think, while I can talk
While I can stand, while I can walk
While I can dream, please let my dream
Come true, right now" -- If I Can Dream (Elvis)
I know many people would kill for this position; the cushy apartment, nice salary, good benefits, and of course the ability to say you work along side Earth's mightiest. Well, they don't seem so mighty in person.
Of course this is not what I report to Fury.
"TO: Director Nicholas J. Fury
FROM: Agent Vivienne Reese (S.H.I.E.L.D. BAU Division, New York)
SUBJECT: Month One Assessment
My experience thus far has surpassed expectations. I have aided the team in a handful of missions -- Mr. Stark specifically requested my assistance on numerous cases, but I have worked closely alongside Mr. Rogers and Agent Romanoff. I am yet to meet Thor as he is off world, and Agent Barton remains MIA. It is important to note that there have been no code greens, Mr. Banner remains in the lab for support.
Attached are my reports for any/all missions I have worked on to date, but I feel I must first share some general observations.
Rogers easily takes on a leadership role despite his civilian status, he displays exemplary initiative in these situations. I urge S.H.I.E.L.D. directors to consider granting Mr. Rogers the rank he naturally carries: Captain.
Stark also has strong management on the field, often offering a different perspective than that of Mr. Rogers. Although I think it is important to receive input from others, on multiple occasions there has been weakened cohesion due to differing opinions. I would recommend encouraging a more united front in these cases, and once again granting Mr. Rogers the rank of captain as this will remove any confusion.
Romanoff possesses unparalleled skills such as infiltration and extraction. She is an invaluable member of the team although her communication skills are lacking. While there is clear mutual respect between the team, disclosing information is ideal during high risk situations.
The team also does not have as rigid standards as S.H.I.E.L.D. in regards to post mission debriefings. However, Stark's security for data handling is excellent so there are no containment concerns. I suggest establishing clear expectations for standard mission documentation procedures.
..."
What I really mean is:
I have had to force myself into the mission dynamic; it has not been a natural adjustment for the team. I have worked closely with Rogers and Romanoff but only because I have bullied my way into situations, and Stark only asks for my help because he enjoys being unprofessional during high-stakes moments.
Romanoff is most closed off to me, likely due to her traumatic past which I frankly have no interest in.
It is ridiculous that Banner is allowed within 100 feet of this building because he routinely endangers the lives of New Yorkers. There have been no code greens, but I have witnessed him turn sage on multiple occasions .
Barton and Thor are enigmas to me. Although I have politely inquired about them as I need to know there work styles to best help them on the job, the team does not trust me enough to share information about their colleagues -- if you can even call them that.
Stark and Rogers are complete opposites, two ends of a rope constantly pulling and creating tension. One is a man out of time and represents tradition. The other is a man making time by embracing technological revolution. One struggles to turn a phone on and the other created it. They fight in this imaginary tug of war where each tries to gain dominance and command over the Avengers, eventually that rope will snap.
My real recommendations are to systematically rewire the foundations of this "team". There is poor cooperation, at times work ethic, and most importantly trust -- not necessarily between each other, but towards people like me who are simply meant to help. No unit could work under these circumstances, especially those meant to protect the world. But I don't reveal any of this since it is not my job to profile them, I am meant to report risks.
I am reminded of Fury's words: You need to analyze threats to the Avenger's, that includes themselves.
I provided a satisfactory debriefing of how the three Avengers I have worked with are hindering the success of the team, and also how to reinforce the stability of the group. I feel I have done what was asked of me.
With that I am brought back to the task at hand: talking down bank robbers who somehow acquired Chitauri weapons.
"Rogers, the man to the right is the dominant of the two. My guess is he protected the submissive at some point, maybe they grew up together. These guys know which kids to beat up and which to protect so he feels indebted to the dominant and reinforces the plans behind the operations. The Dom-" "That's great Freud, but let's skip the therapy and get to the plan," Tony interrupts.
I take a moment to breathe. "Separate them, make the submissive think the dominant is setting him up. Play to the dominant's ego-" "Let me just blast them, I did some real nice upgrades to the suit last night," Tony's voice cuts through over the comms again. Typical.
"Stark, enough. No casualties," Steve says with finality.
I wait a moment before I continue expecting a snarky reply from Tony. I am pleasantly surprised to be met with silence.
Good, he could use some humbling.
"Lose the smile Reese," Tony says annoyed.
My face reflexively becomes devoid of emotion. "Just make sure you do not agitate the dominant, if he feels backed into a corner he loses that sense of control and will do anything to regain it so evacuate while the dominant is occupied" I speak clearly and with command.
"Copy," the first words Romanoff has spoken directly to me this entire mission.
For now I can only sit and wait hoping that at least some of my analysis will sink in. I watch as Romanoff and Rogers head towards the submissive leaving Stark to the dominant -- not the pairing I would recommend.
"Put the gun down," Natasha speaks with a steady tone. I don't hear if there is a reply. Natasha steps forward while holstering her gun. "I get it, you're scared. But you don't want to do this," she continues with hands raised.
"You don't know what I want!" the target yells back. He is clearly shaking, probably sweating, and waves his weapon frantically.
"Reese, what should I say?" Steve asks.
I start speaking immediately, almost without thought. "Say 'You're not holding that gun because you want to use it, you are holding it because someone else told you to'," Steve echoes my words. "Say 'we know this wasn't your idea, it was his. He told you to do this, he is the one we want'," I enunciate every "he" because we may not know the dominant's name but we can act like we do.
I take a moment, we need to let this sink in. I push my hand out and as if sensing it Steve takes a few, slow steps forward.
"Peter would never do anything to hurt me," the targets voice trembles slightly. He isn't trying to convince us, he is convincing himself.
"Stark, his name is Peter," I relay before continuing, "I know Peter helped you, stood up for you on the school yard when people thought you were weak. Now you think of him as a brother, someone you can always count on. But you aren't weak, and before anything else Peter will protect himself."
"That's not true!" he cries out.
"It's ok to be upset, but deep down you know it's true. In the end Peter is your biggest bully, constantly demanding things you never really wanted to do. You know he is using you for your brains, wasn't it your idea to use the Chitauri tech?" I stare at the screens in front of me, willing the target to put the alien weapon down.
"It was" he whispers. I can see it sinking in, he is weakening. Reluctantly he lowers the blaster with tears streaming down his face.
"Good," Steve says low enough it must be to himself.
I relax into the chair, but out of the corner of my eye I see Tony approach the dominant.
"The mighty Iron Man, you really think your suit is enough?" Peter says while motioning to the massive, glowing blaster in his hand.
"Well it was in New York so I bet it is for you," Stark replies with disinterest. I shut my eyes as my face scrunches in annoyance.
Don't agitate him.
Peter scoffs, "You really think you can make a difference here? You think you have any real strength?"
"And you do? You're a nobody who has to hurt others to feel power," Stark spits out.
"I. Am. Power!" Peter raises his weapon with unstable eyes.
"Oh wow you even have your own catchphrase. Yeah that's real scary, hell I'm shaking in my iron boots," Tony continues to taunt Peter. I uncross my legs.
"No, Stark you need to stop. Play into his ego," I warn with hands gripping the arm of my chair.
"Why don't you just do everyone a favour and stop this little show where you cosplay a Bond villain, ok?" Stark continues in a patronizing tone.
"That is not playing into his ego," my voice drips in annoyance.
"Oh you'd like that wouldn't you?!" Peter yells.
"Yes, I would. It'd save me the headache of listening to your uninspired evil speech for any longer."
"Stop," I almost yell as I jump out of my seat, "he will kill you and everyone else in that building!"
And before I can even process the back and forth between the two, Peter shoots his weapon towards an explosive behind Stark and the building lights up. Stark's screen goes dark.
I only hear a sharp intake of breathe, it must have been my own.
"Stark? Stark, come in Stark," Steve repeats over the comms.
Silence.
"Tony!?" Natasha tries for a response.
"Yeah" Stark's voice comes out like a grunt.
I sigh in relief while my head tilts to the ceiling.
"We tried to get everyone out but-" I rip out my ear piece as the others talk. Leaning against the desk in front of me, one hand supporting me the other pressed to my forehead, I can't help but feel guilty for what occurred.
I stare at the ground in front of me. What will Fury think after I just submitted a practically glowing review of my experience with the team only to see this failure immediately after? Perhaps that I am incompetent, unable to perform my job. Maybe he'd be right to fire me.
No, I need to do better. Be stronger. If the "team" doesn't want to hear me I am going to force them to listen.
Observing the location of the quinjet I gather I have about 25 minutes before the three get back. That will be enough to get ready for them.
-----------
The team walks into the common room with an air of tension. Stark is deflecting Steve's lecturing as Natasha and Bruce occasionally contribute. They are either oblivious or chose to ignore my presence as I lean against the counter with hands on my hips. I don't say anything, just observe. The longer they go with out acknowledging me the more they fuel my anger towards this situation.
"We had a plan Tony, you went off script," Steve says, frustration clear.
"No you had a plan. I improvised, I made a call," Tony defends himself.
Improvisation, my least favourite thing and apparently Tony's favourite.
"And it was the wrong call," Steve thrusts his hands out in anger, "your improvisation cost us."
"Sorry we can't all be Captain fucking perfect."
"Tony, people died," Bruce says gently.
"What's done is done, I can't do anything about it now," Tony directs his anger towards Bruce.
"No, but we can do something about the future," Steve speaks with power. I can practically see the American flag billowing behind him as an eagle screeches.
"Do you ever get tired of being so righteous?" Stark is beyond the point of reason. I see through him, I know this is probably eating him alive but he is playing a persona.
"Tony, maybe Steve is right. We need to talk about this," Natasha says with the same tone she used to talk down the target.
"Oh, please. Like you all are so high and mighty," he responds dramatically.
This continues on for a few moments longer before I decide to make my presence known. I walk over to the doorway and stand with my arms crossed, trying my best to exude authority. "We should talk," I announce over their competing voices. For the first time since their arrival the room is silent as they turn to look at me, some annoyed and others surprised I am there. I don't even wait for a response as I turn and start towards a meeting room.
None of them move at first, perhaps appalled at my request. To them I hold no power here, this is not true. During my approach to the closest meeting room I see Steve's figure reflected in the glass as he is the first to make a move to follow me. Natasha and Bruce follow leaving Tony to stew for a moment. He huffs and I imagine rolls his eyes but in the end he comes too.
The others sit while I stand at the front of the table looking them over. Tony breaks the silence by saying, "Let's save the scolding I think I've heard enough today."
I nod. "You're right Mr. Stark," I shock everyone by agreeing with him, "this is not to make you feel bad, this is about accountability." I turn to look all of them in the eyes once again, "All of you need to take responsibility. I understand I am relatively new here, however that does not mean I don't contribute valuable information. Yes, today was a tragedy, but it is not the first time any of you have blatantly ignored my guidance."
"I think I speak for everyone when I say this is all very new-"
"I'm not finished," I cut Steve off. Natasha sniggers at his shocked expression. "I am not a member of this team, nor do I want to be," maybe not the best thing to say but quiet anger bubbles beneath my skin, "I am here to help, not sabotage or lead you astray," I rest my hands on the table in front of me.
"We don't think you are," Bruce says looking at everyone else but me.
I stare at him with pursed lips, he still does not meet my eye. "Then stop acting like it, because I can't do my job when you do." I end with a bit of humility, people are more receptive when they think it is the other person who needs help. Yes, my job is on the line but so is theirs. They will continue to fail without me.
We sit in silence, Natasha watches me with a smirk. "Mr. Rogers you make a good point that my work could be new to you all. If you have any questions, please ask me at any time." No one says anything so I walk out the room.
I think I would have made Agent Hill proud with that display.
I made you God 'cause it was all that I knew how to do
But I don't belong to anyone (Ooh)" -- David (Lorde)
"5 minutes until touch down Agent Reese," the pilot announces to the barren Quinjet. The only company I have are boxes filled with belongings. The quiet hum of the aircraft fills the room.
I always find these moments so interesting. The in between where I was and where I am going. During these times my mind is most at peace; I am no longer bombarded with thoughts and feelings, I just am as I wait to enter the next chapter of my life.
I should soak up these last few minutes of peace. A new apartment and job are big enough changes, but living with literal gods walking on earth? That's something else entirely.
I try to think back to last week's meeting with Hill, Coulson, and Fury. To where I will be staying. Was it on the same floor as members of the team? Will it be apartment style or will I have to cook in the same place as deadly assassins?
How on earth is this going to work?
Despite all these questions that suddenly jump to the surface, I still feel collected. Not quite at ease but also not panicking, just present. Emotionless. That's how I like it, I wish I could be like this all the time.
Perhaps I am so calm because I have already lived through this. You know how they say when you die you relive your life or memories, maybe I am doing that and that is why I am so calm. This seems like it would be an important moment in my life. The stepping off point into a better phase of my career. The time before I got a big promotion or pay raise, maybe even before I met my best friend.
Or maybe not. Maybe I just process things weirdly. I should know, that's the reason I went into psych in the first place, to try and figure out my own issues and those of the people around me. To be honest I never really had a passion for anything, never felt the need to help others or create something that will live long after me. No, I just wanted a job that payed well. Lucky for me one day, a little over a year ago, Coulson approached with a job opportunity.
I still remember my first day walking into S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, hair styled and wearing my best clothes. Walking with fake confidence that eventually grew to be real. I hated it then but I would do anything to go back.
My thoughts are cut off as we land atop Avengers tower. I take a moment to appreciate the scenery. In my head I pictured arriving in a car and entering through the main entrance like everyone else. Instead, I enter through the relatively less traveled doors of the helicopter pad.
Just inside the door I see Pepper Potts waiting with a tablet in hand. Not a single strawberry blonde hair out of place. We smile at each other as I approach with only my purse and one of the lightest boxes in hand. "Hello Agent Reese, it is a pleasure to meet you. We have people to bring your things, how about I show you to where you will be staying?"
"Yes that would be perfect, thank you" I smile out.
With that she turns and leads me towards an elevator being sure to point out any important landmarks along our path. The place is quite similar to the S.H.I.E.L.D. helecarrier to be honest, metal with bright lighting, the most expensive technology lining the walls. Hell I even feel like I am flying with how high up we are.
"And this is the floor you will be staying on. There are two other rooms in this wing, neither have anyone staying in them at the moment so you have the whole place to yourself," I brighten at that. We stop in-front of a door as she asks "Any questions?"
"Do you have my keys?"
She laughs lightly. "Tony doesn't believe in keys so every door uses biometric technology. A technician will be up shortly to help you get a scan completed, but until then only authorized personnel are permitted inside," she opens the door for me, "I will send for the crew to retrieve your things." I nod and enter my new home.
Light floods the room from a floor to ceiling window. I have a gorgeous view, however I find anything that isn't the suburbs interesting. One of the first things I notice is the bed, simple but probably more expensive than anything I have ever slept on before. There is a small kitchenette just inside the door, but if I wanted to do any substantial cooking I would have to go to the main kitchen adjacent the common room. It is a fairly large room with a nicely outfitted bathroom to the side. I can already picture my life here, coming in after a hard days work and just relaxing. Suddenly this new life doesn't seem so daunting after a glimpse of domesticity.
A lazy knock at the door breaks my methodical unpacking. For a short moment I freeze, uncertain of whether or not I should answer -- I have such good momentum right now and don't really want to disrupt my flow.
The sound comes again, prompting me to answer.
I am once again frozen in place as I am met with the owner of the building, Iron Man.
"Oh no rush, not like I have a multi-billion dollar company waiting for me," he says with a smirk and arms crossed.
"My apologies, Mr. Stark," he waves me off as he enters completely uninvited -- then again does Tony Stark need to be invited into a room?
"Thought I'd be a good landlord and introduce myself," he quickly looks around and as he turns towards me he smiles cheekily at my blank face, "plus somebody needs to get your scan done."
"Oh, sorry sir I thought a general technician would be doing that."
He tilts his head, "would you rather that? What, do I intimidate you?" I quietly scoff, "no, you don't seem like the type." He looks me up and down through squinted eyes.
"No, sir, I assumed you'd be too busy running your multi-billion dollar company," I respond to his mocking with my own. Keep it professional Vivienne. Almost as if sensing this internal monologue Tony's face breaks out in a grin.
It's like I am talking to Cheshire fucking cat.
"Oh, so you just don't like me?" he turns towards the door, "that's ok, not many people can handle my presence." That is not hard to believe. I notice one end of his mouth tick up. I stop myself from replying by leaning against the counter across the wall, occupying myself by staring aimlessly out the window. I try to convince myself I am not acutely aware of Tony's presence as he tinkers away.
"Alright," he claps his hands loudly in front of himself, "let's get you into the system, hm?"
I only nod and step forward.
Without hesitation he grabs my waist and pulls me into place just in-front of the door. I jump and fight the urge to slap his hand away. He must notice my disgusted face as he says, "relax, it's just faster if I do this myself." He does remove his hands though.
He adjusts my position slightly and suddenly his face is looking over my shoulder at the screen. Our faces almost touch, it is like he is trying to see the door through my perspective. I try to stay as still as possible as to not disturb his work ... also to not bump faces with the billionaire I just met who seems to be making himself quite comfortable in my space.
"Alright don't move a muscle," Tony warns as he reaches around me to touch something on the door. He quickly steps to the side, mimicking my previous position by leaning against the counter and taking this as an opportunity to judge my possessions.
Suddenly, a blue light scans me up and down from numerous angles. I do as Tony said and stay statue like for a moment even after the blue light fades away, unsure if it is done. After a beat of waiting in silence for direction, I glance towards Tony and see his attention is also on me. I instantly notice the humoured look on his face and shift my position. I have no idea how long he has been watching me just stand here without saying anything. I make a point of huffing as I shift my position. My unimpressed expression does not phase him as he pushes off the wall stands beside me in-front of the door. He pulls out the scan, showing me a 3-d model of myself.
"Obviously some of the rooms in here we can't have just anybody walk in, so for those rooms it will use this scan and depending on your clearance you will be allowed in. Extra security measures, blah blah blah. The real plus is you don't need to worry about keys, god I hate those things."
I am fairly familiar with advanced technology working with S.H.I.E.L.D. but there is something that much more futuristic with Stark's. Of course I will not tell him this, he does not need to add that to his ego.
"And I also added some perks to each room, you're welcome. JARVIS will explain that all to you," Tony finishes his speech.
"Jarvis? Is he the building manager?" I ask not recalling Fury or Pepper mentioning that name before.
"Right," he says almost to himself as if remembering not everyone lives in a STARK tech product, "how rude of me to not introduce you two. J?" he calls out
Suddenly a voice fills the room, "Yes, sir."
I look around confused. "Meet our new friend Vivienne, she'll be staying with us for a while. Make her comfortable," he turns his attention back to me, "if you have any questions, ask J." and with that Tony walks out of the room.
I spend the rest of my night getting acquainted with all the new technology that surrounds me, and pretending like Tony Stark did not linger in the back of my mind.
Series Summary: Vivienne is thrust into a world fit for only the strongest of both spirits and characters. A lifestyle where competition bleeds into every aspect of one's being. You need to fight to stay afloat when working alongside the best and brightest, especially when it becomes more than just a job.
You Gotta Fight for it - an Avengers story (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/story/400069627-you-gotta-fight-for-it-an-avengers-story?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_myworks&wp_uname=Hdiowqkns Vivienne is thrust into a world fit for only the strongest of both spirits and characters. A lifestyle where competition bleeds into every aspect of one's being. You need to fight to stay afloat when working alongside the best and brightest, especially when it becomes more than just a job.
Series Summary: Vivienne is thrust into a world fit for only the strongest of both spirits and characters. A lifestyle where competition bleeds into every aspect of one's being. You need to fight to stay afloat when working alongside the best and brightest, especially when it becomes more than just a job.
"No one else could heal my pain
But I just can't contain
This feelin' that remains" -- There She Goes - The La's
2 weeks.
I had only been out of school for 2 weeks before I was approached by S.H.I.E.L.D. and asked to work alongside them. They said my experience with psychology was an asset that not many possessed, and they wanted someone who had an understanding of the mind -- they had enough agents who understood the body.
Fresh faced and vulnerable, I quickly understood my place in the food chain -- an ant. Sure, I was higher than the interns who fetched coffee or the cleaners scrubbing toilets. But I was not the one who held any real power in the ranks of that damned agency.
In the beginning I was happy. I was offered a stable job almost right out of school and I got the prestige of working in a government agency without actually having to do the typical work. I was not the one they sent out to the field, I was the one who analyzed the situation or individuals they were after. It was a much better opportunity than most of my friends got out of school.
Now, it's important to note that at that point I had no idea the extent of which my job really entailed. I'm not trying to make myself the victim because once I understood what was being asked of me I fully intended to deliver. But I need you to understand that I did not go into this situation trying to harm anyone, I just wanted to keep my job because I did know that you need to fight to stay in S.H.I.E.L.D.
The smell of stale bagels and cheap coffee fuel my nausea. I feel someone looking at me, wanting to approach but apprehensive to do so. My neck tingles as I try to ignore the feeling. It had been a long and hard first year at S.H.I.E.L.D., but I pushed through. Once I commit to something I see it through. I decided as soon as I had my first failure that I would not let it happen again. I cannot afford to disappoint this agency, not after they put so much faith in me.
I work on my laptop filling out a report for Coulson's newest target, still aware of the lingering presence in the cafeteria. I know I should be going faster, working harder but I find it hard to do so. Resisting the urge to make another coffee I get up to make myself a tea.
This is when she strikes.
Agent Hill leans against the counter as I wait for the water to boil.
"Agent Reese, Coulson and I need to discuss something with you," she announces with arms crossed. No chit-chat. This is not a good time, I still need to finish the report for him.
"Of course," I reply while pouring the water in my mug. I stare at it instead of her.
"Great, follow me?" She says it like a question but I know it's an order, so I nod.
I walk alongside Agent Hill down halls of the helecarrier and towards a glass room. Inside I see Agent Coulson and another figure around a large, glass table. Upon our approach I recognize that infamous eye patch and dread fills my stomach.
Agent Hill, Coulson, and Director Fury all wanting to speak to me. What a treat.
I follow Hill into the room and sit in a chair opposite Coulson and Hill, Fury pacing the room in front of me. While waiting for one of them to start speaking I look out the window. I try to suppress the need to bounce my leg or pick at my nails by watching the clouds go by, wishing I could fly away like them. I take a sip of tea to calm my nerves.
"Vivienne, I'm sure you are anxious to know why you are here," Coulson says with a smile. I guard myself instantly.
"The incident last September with our Asgardian friends has left us in an ... unfortunate situation," Fury speaks up. I don't know whether or not to laugh at that statement. "Now that Stark has finished building the Avengers tower most of the team intend to live there full time."
"We need someone on the inside," Hill speaks through pursed lips.
Someone on the inside, I do not like where this is going.
"You have skills that are very valuable to us Vivienne, and we've decided that you are the best candidate for this position," praise from Coulson always sends sparks of pride rushing through me.
"What exactly would I be doing?" I cut through the flattery and get straight to the point.
Hill smirks as she pulls an electronic model of Avengers tower out of the table. "See, this is why I chose her. Stark won't be able to charm his way onto her good side," she reveals, "and we need that because you are going to be working with the Avengers, not as a field agent but as a behind the scenes analyst."
"Any threats they face, their targets. We'd like you to use your skills to help them and report back to us. Does that make sense?" Coulson asks my blank face.
I nod, it's very similar to my current work.
"Great, I'm betting on you here kid so if anything, and I mean anything, goes wrong you let us know" Coulson speaks with an air of care but also authority.
Hill gives me a virtual tour of the tower. She places emphasis on where I would be staying, my office, and the common room. It does not fully set in that I will actually be living full time with literal superheroes.
"And that's all, now I know you have some work to finish up before you leave," Hill says as she and Coulson stand.
"Yes, thank you," I say with a smile, and I go to follow but a voice stops me.
"Reese, not yet," Fury says while staring out the window with arms behind his back. I had almost forgotten he was there. I sit back down and wait until Coulson and Hill are out of the room. As the door shuts behind them Fury turns to look back at me, assessing me. I assess right back.
After a beat he starts, "you need to analyze threats to the Avenger's, that includes themselves. They are having a hard time adjusting to this new life, some more than others, and I need to know that they are fit to do their job." He pauses, "I just want to know how they are doing, routine checks from you about their mental space."
Sounds simple enough.
"We cannot have any vulnerabilities in this organization, Reese. They are here to protect and they can't do that unless they are strong. That includes you, don't get too emotionally involved," he warns with a raised eyebrow. I smile knowing that won't be a problem.
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