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penguinwithitsarseonfire · 3 years

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Baby Just Say Yes

Relationship: 12th Doctor x Reader

Warnings: brief mention of drowning - but not graphically described, and some spoilers for War and Peace (the book, although I suppose it would apply to the TV show as well, since they're the same story)

Word Count: 2,704

Summary: When you, Bill, and the Doctor debate the merits of how many doughnuts are too many, it accidentally leads to a revelation on an event you hadn't actually known had happened.

Request: Bill finds out that the reader is "married" to Doc and at some point Bill jokes calling the two her grandparents

A/N: I took the route of reader knowing the Doctor for years and years, just so it was easier to justify the nature of the Doctor and readers relationship. As a result, it's got some implied past 11 x Reader. Hope that’s okay!

Your finger trailed along the spines of the collection of books on one the shelves in the second level of the console room. You paused when your eyes landed on a familiar novel, one you had yet to crack open, but really wanted to. If so you could boast to the Doctor that you'd read it.

War and Peace.

1,225 pages. The Doctor had never had the patience for it. You took the novel out from the shelf, only for a plume of dust to pool into the air. It tickled your nose, making it itch.

Then you sneezed.

You rubbed your finger along the base of your nose in a vain attempt to scratch it, and narrowed your eyes at the dusty bookshelf. The Doctor had said he was going to dust it.

A muffled voice spoke from below, it took you a moment to place what was said, but you were pretty sure it was ‘bless you’.

You were on a planet the Doctor and you had discovered in his last face, back when he had been younger, had a longer chin, and was far more obsessed with sweets. It was famous for its doughnuts, the best in the galaxy, the Doctor had decided.

And that decision had stuck, since, when the Doctor had told Bill about the planet, she had decided that they absolutely must go.

You poked your head over the bannister and locked eyes with Bill. She was holding a doughnut in her mouth, and her hands were full balancing two trays. You realised it must have been Bill who spoke, because the Doctor was only now coming in, holding a near empty tray of doughnuts in one hand.

“Hey,” you said, and you placed your book on one of the chairs before hopping down the stairs. “You two get enough?”

Bill snorted, dropping her boxes onto the console and taking a bite out of her doughnut. “Not even. He,” she nodded towards the Doctor. “Has already eaten nearly every single one out of that box.”

Your eyebrows flew into your hairline, and you snatched the box out of the Doctor’s hands. You waved the Doctor away when he protested, and instead eyed the boxes contents. There was a single doughnut left. Out of nine doughnuts, and only one was left. It was round, with no hole in the middle, and a good layer of icing sugar sprinkled on top.

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Feeling sick yet?”

The Doctor raised his own eyebrow at you, and you knew, instinctually, that it was more effective than yours. “You do not get to lecture me on health.”

It was a weak rebuttal.

“You’ve had eight of them Doctor,” you took the final doughnut out of the box. “Eight.”

He snatched it out of your hand, and your face fell. “Timelord,” he replied, and then took a large bite out of the final doughnut. The Doctor immediately winced, then hissed. He pulled the doughnut away with a frown, and you saw the remnants of hot jam on his lips.

A swell of vindication ran through you, and, under the guise of wiping some of the jam off, you took the doughnut off of him. You let the air cool the jam slightly, not wanting to burn yourself too. “Eight,” you said again. “Is more than enough.”

“The very basics of my physiology are different,” he gestured to both his hearts for good measure, then tried to reach for the doughnut, you were ready though, and you held it out of reach. “I’ll be fine.”

“Just because you've got two hearts,” you said. “Doesn't mean you've got two stomachs. At the very least you'll get indigestion.”

And with that you took a hungry bite out of the very doughnut he had just stolen from you. It was good, they’d made it with raspberry jam, and the stark taste of the sharp raspberry against the sweet sugar warmed you. You gave him a satisfied smirk, and turned to Bill. “What about you, what’s yours?”

Bill had been watching you both, her head swinging between you like she was watching a tennis match. She had just bitten into her doughnut, and she looked slightly stunned that you had spoken to her.

“It’s really good,” she said, but her mouth was full so it sounded more like ‘ts r’lly gud. She swallowed, then continued talking. “Can’t remember what they said this one was,” and she turned to the Doctor, holding the doughnut up so both you and the Doctor could see its contents. It was filled with a rich purple paste. “What’s supposed to be in it?”

“Ube,” the Doctor said coolly, and he shuffled over to your side. You sidestepped him, taking another bite of the doughnut. He wasn’t getting it that easily. “It’s from the Philippines, traditionally.”

“We should’ve gotten more,” Bill said. “I think these are my favourite so far.”

This was the beauty of this planet, they were obsessed with Earth doughnuts, so they’d preserved every culturally significant recipe that Earth had, 1,893 – the Doctor had counted. They even had cronut’s, of all things, though you’d yet to try them.

The Doctor scowled at the other two boxes, and you stepped carefully in front of them.

“I chose a new book,” you said, which was a blatant redirection of conversation, but you powered through. “One I’m sure you haven’t finished.”

From the corner of your eyes, you noticed Bill was watching the pair of you again, as if a spectator of a sport.

The Doctor studied you carefully, and you knew he was humouring this new conversation. “That’s an unlikely assumption.

“War and Peace,” you said, with only a small hint of pride.

The Doctor cocked his head to the side, considering it. “You’re right, actually. I got bored once the Anatole and Natasha affair got going. Couldn’t visit the opera for a couple decades either.”

Your face fell.

Bill spluttered. “Did you just spoil it?”

The Doctor waved a hand. “The book's over 150 years old. If Y/N doesn't know about the ending by now then that's not really my fault.”

You vaguely heard Bill breathe out an Oh my God.

“That's one of the most arrogant things you've ever said,” you said, still processing the shock of how he had so simply said what he had. “And I once listened to you drone on for an hour on how you choreographed the macarena.”

“I did that in a different face though, younger, more nimble. I’ll have to tell you about how I taught Claude Debussy how to shred.”

“Like, on the guitar, or in the ocean?” Bill asked.

“Yes,” the Doctor said, and then he went to grab for the rest of the doughnut in your hand.

“Oh no,” you said, side-stepping him. “No more, especially not after you spoiled the book for me.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he said. “It’s not like I told you how Andrei dies in a gruesome battle against the French, and Natasha coincidently finds herself by his side as he dies on his deathbed, even though they’d long parted. Honestly.”

Your eyes bugged out of your skull, you could feel it, as though they were ready to up and roll away.

“Is Andrei an important character?” Bill asked slowly, and then, she meekly added. “I haven’t seen the show.”

You spoke very slowly, your voice low. You narrowed your eyes to the Doctor. The death of a major character was a pretty big spoiler. “I cannot believe you.”

The Doctor winced slightly. “I just rambled like I was 900 years old again, didn’t I?”

“At least,” you breathed. You swallowed your exasperation, and then, suddenly, you sneezed. It was loud, like it had to announce itself to the world, and you rocked backwards slightly. You sniffled.

“Bless you,” Bill said again, but her mouth was full, so it sounded like ‘bleshooo’.

You gave her your thanks, then turned to the Doctor, your mind going to the reason why you were sneezing in the first place. “Dusting,” you said. “You haven’t dusted yet. You said you would.”

The Doctor waved a hand. “I will, I’ll get round to it.”

“You offered, Doctor,” you continued, and in the back of your mind, you wondered if it sounded like you were nagging him . “No one asked you to do it, Nardole didn’t even ask. You offered.”

“You’re in a mood,” The Doctor said suddenly, and he leaned forward, so his big nose was almost against yours.. “Are you sick?

“I – what, no, I’m not sick,” you said, and you stumbled back suddenly. His eyes were so large, so close, and it was momentarily disarming. “You can be so infuriating sometimes, you know that?”

“You tell me constantly.”

Bill’s face grew into a large, delighted grin. “Oh my God,” she said. “You're like an old married couple.”

You turned to her, stunned. Or course, you were with the Doctor, but the idea of being married to him… well, he had done it, you knew he had, you’d been there, several years ago now when he’d had a different face with a long chin and an affinity for custard.

It certainly hadn’t been to you, though.

Of course, time had been broken and you’d been wearing an itchy eyepatch, but schematics.

You’d also seen the Doctor, a much younger face, one you had never travelled with, marry Queen Elizabeth the first. You’d been a ring bearer. It had been too fun teasing all three of faces of the Doctor that day for it.

But no. You had certainly never married him.

It wasn’t as if you didn’t want to, quite honestly, the thought had never crossed your mind. You had been so content in your relationship with him, how sure it felt, how right it was, that you’d never thought about anything more.

The Doctor, too, gawked, but for an entirely different reason. "You called me old.”

Bill glanced up and down the doctor's frame, which was enough to make her point.

“Fine,” the Doctor grumbled. “I'm old.”

“How are we like an old married couple?” You pressed, because the Doctor was not getting the key part of Bill’s statement.

“The bickering,” she said. “It's totally what couples do.”

You gaped and turned to the Doctor for some sort of guidance. You waited for him to shut it down. To laugh and just say it was because you were comfortable around one another. Instead, the Doctor only shrugged. "I mean,” he said. “Technically we are married'

You did a double take. Married. You were, apparently, already married to the Doctor.

What?

Bill gasped. “What - no, since when? Why didn't you tell me?”

“Yeah,” you said, finding your voice. “I'd quite like to know too.”

Bill turned to you. “Wait what do you mean?”

“This is news to me,” you continued. “We're married? Where was my something old and something blue?”

The Doctor gestured to himself, then around the console room - the TARDIS. So those were, apparently, the something old and something blue. A bit on the nose.

He raised an eyebrow, and you wondered if your expression was as confused as you felt. “On the foreshore of Tralite,” he prompted. “With the Arhkor embassy.”

That... that hadn't been a wedding. Had it?

You mind went back to that evening, so many years ago now, back when you had been travelling with Clara, back when the doctor knew who Clara was. Your heart clenched for a moment, you didn't think about those times often. You felt alone in those memories, like you were the only one who held them, could cherish them.

But you remembered, quite clearly.

Here's what had happened:

Every decade, the Arhkor would sacrifice a person with renowned intelligence to the foreshore of Tralite, a beach that was more pebble than sand. The sacrifice would sit in the water until they drowned, and their memories would be recorded into the water. Living memory, the Doctor had said.

But the sacrifice that year, a young girl named Ardiel, whose bright purple hair had matched her purple scales, had been so young, and she hadn’t wanted to die.

So the Doctor, in all his foolish martyring glory, had marched out into the sea himself.

And of course, you couldn’t let him do that, so you followed.

“That wasn’t a wedding,” you said. “You were trying to sacrifice yourself to an ocean.”

You remembered it, your hand clasped in his, and the water settling over you both. You hadn’t been scared, which, in hindsight, terrified you. You should have been scared, but you weren’t. You had felt calm, at ease, safe even.

You couldn’t remember exactly why you had both been spared, but the water washed away, leaving you both wet and cold – but alive. And the water had never asked for another sacrifice since.

“It was a marrying of the minds,” The Doctor said, enunciating the words like he was trying to drill the meaning into your brain. “The water had been the officiant.”

“This is so weird,” Bill said, and she took another bite out of her doughnut.

You found yourself agreeing with Bill. “Doctor, that makes exactly zero sense.”

“The water had found something worth more than intelligence,” the Doctor continued. “It had found love. So when it copied and pasted our minds, that’s all it found. It unified us. It was a wedding.”

You rubbed your forehead with your fingers, trying to process this.

“I gotta say,” Bill commented, and she’d finished the doughnut she had been eating and was now fishing another out of a box. She pulled out a brown doughnut that was an oval shape with a silt down the middle. “I dunno how many people can say their grandparents got married by an ocean.”

“Ox-tongue,” the Doctor said, and he nodded to the pastry in Bill’s hand. Then, he considered her statement. “And that’s true, you should use that. It’s a good pick up line, should impress a girl or two.”

Bill scrunched up her face. “Okay, one; Ox tongue? Seriously? That can’t be right.”

The Doctor shrugged. “It’s Cantonese. A friend once told me about it. Apparently it references the shape of the dough. That being said, it might also be horse ears.”

“Okay,” Bill raised a sceptical eyebrow. “I’ll maybe half trust it, because it doesn’t sound right, but I don’t know enough to prove you wrong,” she paused before speaking again. “Also, two; I don’t think those two can get mixed up. Three, I’m never, ever using that as a pick up line. Not ever. It’s terrible.”

Thankfully, the Doctor was so focused on Bill’s last point, that he disregarded what she had said earlier. “It’s an excellent line! You’ll get to teach the girls something new!”

“Sorry, circle back,” you said, because your brain wasn’t computing. You weren’t even sure what you needed to address first. The marriage comments? The grandparents comment? The ox tongue?

Both Bill and the Doctor looked to you expectantly.

You pointed to the Doctor. “First of all, still wasn’t a wedding,” you then pointed to Bill. “Second of all, grandparents? I know he’s old but I’m certainly not.”

“Yeah but you’re with him,” she said, after swallowing part of her doughnut. She took another eager bite.

“He is sitting right here,” the Doctor grumbled. “But alright, if it wasn’t a wedding up to your standards, we can always do something different,” he stood up. “We can arrange it.”

Your brain short circuited, and you had to reprocess what the Doctor had said.

We can always do something different. We can arrange it.

Had the Doctor just proposed to you?

You were so stunned you didn’t even protest as he plucked the remaining doughnut from out of your fingers, wandering out of the console room. “Let me know,” he called out. “And we’ll get to reading that Tolstoy.”

You sat there, bug eyed, and turned to Bill. She was wearing a similar expression, she’d dropped her own doughnut, which sat dejected on top of one of the doughnut boxes.

“Did what I think just happened, happen?” You asked, your voice only slightly shrill.

Bill nodded. “I – uh, yeah. I think so.”

You stood up, and sprinted after him.

A/N^2: I gotta give huge thanks to the ever-sweet @phxntxmx, who pointed out there was a bit of confusion in how I described one of the doughnuts here. I’ve tried to clear it up and make it a bit more consistent, since it’s not something I know about for sure.

#the doctor x reader #twelfth doctor imagine #12th doctor x reader #twelfth doctor x reader #12th doctor #Doctor Who #DW #Elle: Speaks #opening Elle's vault #vault fic

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metahawke · 4 years

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Watchdog Secrets (1) [A Clint Barton/Hawkeye Fic]

Main characters include: Female OC, Villain OC, Clint Barton (Hawkeye), Tony Stark (Iron Man), Pepper Potts, and more!

Word Count: around 4,690ish, give or take a couple of words.

Warnings: idk, curse words?

A/N: Hello! I’m @metahawke and this is my FIRST fic that I’ve written in about seven years. I hope that you like this first test run, I’m hoping to make this into a miniseries. If you have anything you wanna submit (tips, requests, ideas, criticism, etc) I’m totally open. If you like this, give it a reblog and a like if you’re feeling generous. I’m hoping to get more chapters up soon, possibly expanding to WattPad!

Also, this fic features my first oc female character I’ve written for in a while. Hope you guys like her!

That’s all from me. Happy reading!

---

“God there’s a shit ton of people here,” Kelsea muttered into the phone’s receiver. She was not even in the party yet, but from her car she watched the herds of people flood into the Stark Mansion. They threw their keys and fifty-dollar tips at the valets and waltzed in as if they owned the place. She still could not believe she agreed to come to this party, but if it meant her moving up in the firm then she hoped it would be worth it.

Hoped. So far, the thought of bailing and driving straight back to Santa Monica sounded a lot more appealing than the possibility of getting the promotion.

“Oh, you’ll be okay, it’s just for, what, an hour or two? Mingling with rich people and trying to get the hot shit on Tony Stark? Maybe even,” her friend faked a gasp, “The Avengers?” Faye replied. Kelsea could hear the eye roll in her voice. She did have a point, but these were not just some rich people; these were RICH rich people- connected to one another in even the most far out of ways and they all acted like the spoons they were born with were more silver than the last one. Almost every time she encountered someone from the wealthy side of the spectrum, their demeanor always changed when she revealed her occupation to them. Even in college she had people of the same suit basically turn their noses up at her and tell her she would never make it.

Damn these fucking rich people, Kelsea thought. She sighed and rubbed her temple, trying not to ruin the face that Faye made her put on earlier that night. She didn’t care for makeup often, mainly because it hid her freckles that were a genetic gift from her mother.

“Kels,” Faye sighed, “the Manhattan shit happened, like, last month or whatever, so you’ll be able to get any dirt just by inactively eavesdropping. You are gonna be fine. You are a hot, fierce, and stubborn-in-a-good-way twenty-three-year-old woman who will absolutely do the best job tonight. You got this.” Kelsea smiled, knowing Faye was right.

“Now, I have to go. Tate and I have to go to his parents’ to house sit for the weekend. Don’t bail, but if you really need to, I’ll call you to fake an emergency.”

“Alright, thanks, Faye.”

“No problem, love ya kid.”

“Love ya too, bye,” The line clicked and once again, Kelsea was alone. She looked at the key in the ignition and thought one more time if it would be best to just drive back and fake an excuse. That she got sick before she left and was not able to go due to hugging the toilet all night. Or even all weekend.

“No,” she told herself, “I have to do this, I’ll be fine.” A small smile crept over her face after her miniature pep talk. She took the key out of the ignition, took one more glance in her rearview mirror for any last fixups and brushed her dark hair behind her ear in the process. When she stood, her knees ached slightly from the heels she decided to wear, but they made her look tall and made her feel confident.

And she needed all the confidence in the world.

---

Mixing in with another small group of wealthy elites, glittering with their thousand-dollar dresses and perfectly folded pocket squares, she felt plain and insignificant. Kelsea, however, persisted and climbed the stairs to the main entrance of the mansion. She entered with the group she was mixed in with and the sounds of voices, laughter, and music filled the space around her, and she almost stopped dead in her tracks. People were everywhere; waiters and waitresses from the catering company tended to the small cliques of individuals at the tables. Music played from the various speakers set up around the space. A silent auction was going on at the back of the party, benefiting some charity Stark probably picked out of a hat an hour before the whole thing started. Everything about the interior was what one would imagine: clean, modern, and minimalistic. It was nice, nonetheless, but without the people and whatnot it would be colder than a Minnesota winter.

Kelsea surveyed her environment and her eyes landed on the bar. Since Faye can’t be here, alcohol will take her place, she thought to herself. She waited for the crowd to diminish and proceeded to order a neat old fashioned, receiving weird looks from other patrons as she got her drink. It was like they never considered that a girl that young would be drinking whiskey. She shot a nosy older woman and her partner a death glare and they both turned around back to their posse of other elites. Kelsea smirked to herself as she sipped on her rescue drink. The concoction burned her throat the first couple of times, but then started to go down smooth after she nursed it for a little while longer.

With drink in one hand and her clutch in another, she made her way through the people to find an empty table to stand at. She found one closest to the window overlooking the cliff the mansion stood on. She placed her drink on the table and leaned against it, looking out onto the darkening ocean and complimentary skyline. After the moment of brief bliss, she looked around to make sure everyone was occupied in their conversations and carefully opened her clutch. She took out the issued earpiece her boss gave her to help with picking up dirt. Kelsea called it ‘low-grade spying’ but to her boss, it was just ‘fancy eavesdropping.’ She shook her head at the memory of that conversation as she placed the device in her ear. It blended in well with her skin tone (better than most bandages, she joked to herself) and was concealed by her dark hair. She opened the device app on her phone to configure it and make sure it did not deafen her when it was turned on. Once on, she tuned in and began her task.

Knocking back another swig of whiskey, she casually looked around at the people. There was one woman with a green and glittery dress, a broach of some figure fashioned in gold on her chest, who spoke to a small circle of men and their wives. Laughter erupted from them as she told some story. From her earpiece it seemed like some anecdote from a golf benefit some time ago.

Kelsea scanned more. The silent auction attracted a few partygoers, some pointing to the interesting artifacts on display. One man in a white suit admired the objects to the far right, along with another man next to him with a purple bowtie. Kelsea could hear him talking about how rare one of the objects was and how amazing it is to see it in person. Kelsea craned her neck a bit to see that it was just a replica of Iron Man’s glove. I can’t believe they think it’s even real, she thought. The real one would not look like a plastic kid’s toy. She gave them the benefit of the doubt, though, since it had Stark’s autograph on the back of the glove’s hand.

More scanning, getting distracted, and looking out at the water. The waves crashed against the bottom of the cliff and allowed Kelsea to momentarily forget about the task at hand. This was the closest she had been to the ocean since she was younger. She and her parents had lived in the area for a while when she grew up, but they had moved to Minnesota, and later Nevada, due to “unforeseen circumstances,” as her dad liked to put it. Kelsea never pried or asked any questions about the move, but she did miss the water and her times at the beach.

Her train of thought was interrupted when she saw a man approach her table. The man’s black hair was slicked back out of his face and tucked behind his ears, revealing a small piercing on his left ear. His silver eyes stayed on Kelsea until they got closer to the window. Her gut immediately told her that it did not trust this a single bit. She attempted to keep her composure as he stopped in front of her, looking out at the water as well. From where she stood, she could smell his cologne: dark, musky, and way too piled on. Kelsea had to hold in a gag.

“It’s so calming watching the waves at night, wouldn’t you agree?” The man said, still looking out the window.

“Um, yeah,” Kelsea managed to say. Even with one sentence he gave her uneasy vibes, ones that even she could not ignore. His accent was strange. She had heard something like it before but could not pin down when or where exactly.

“I haven’t seen you at one of these before,” he said. The man turned to her and flashed a cocky grin. “Did you just get on the list?”

Kelsea thought fast.

“Oh, yes, my boss sent me in lieu of himself since he had a previous, uh, engagement. My company worked closely with Mister Stark, and now here I am,” Kelsea gave a small smile and shrug. At least she could lie damn well.

“What company, if I may ask?” he leaned closer, the alcohol on his breath made Kelsea’s stomach churn even more.

Shit, she thought. She gave a small laugh and took a swig of her drink. Without missing a beat, she told him, “Oh I work for the Hedlis Corp.”

“Hedlis… I don’t think I have ever heard of that one,” the man speculated. Kelsea smiled, ignoring his comment. She was trained to handle pricks, but this one was especially prickish.

“Oh, I’m sure you have, Mister...?”

“Laksten,” he smiled again. “Andrei, but my friends call me Andi.” His hands moved closer to where Kelsea’s rested on the table.

“And you, madam?”

“Oh, I’m Elle,” Kelsea lied. She quickly glanced around the room to see if there were any exits. There was a staircase right next to the bar, a spiral that seemed like a beacon of hope for Kelsea in the moment. If she could run up and hide, she would be okay.

“Nice to meet you, Miss Elle,” Andrei said smoothly. He went for her hand to bring it up to his lips, and she suddenly saw the tattoo on his other hand. The skull with the eight tentacles, enclosed in a circle. The symbol rested in the space between his right thumb and forefinger. She hid her shock well as she forced a smile as he kissed her hand.

“So, Miss Elle, what do you do for the Hedlis Corp?” Andrei said. He apparently did not realize that Kelsea saw the marking. As she finished off her drink, Kelsea gave some nonchalant answer about being part of the PR team for the company. “Basically, a journalist of sorts,” she explained.

“So, what is a PR journalist doing at an event held by Mister Stark?”

“Well, my boss was not able to make it, so I offered to take his place. He trusts me.”

“Ah, apparently so. You see very trustworthy,” Andrei purred.

“Uh, well thank you, that’s very kind.”

“And you said your boss was…?”

“Oh, uh- “

Kelsea was cut off by the sudden stop of the music as someone began announcements for the private auction.

“Ladies and gentlemen! All partygoers! It is time for the winners of the Silent Auction, courtesy of none other than Mister Laksten and Mister Stark! Please come up so these fine ladies and gentlemen can give you the recognition you both deserve!”

Kelsea looked at Andrei as he rolled his eyes but gave her another sly grin.

“I must go, I will be back for you, Miss Elle,” he said. He strode up to the back of the party and shook hands with colleagues as he made his way.

Without any more hesitation, Kelsea quickly made her way to the staircase, careful not to let Andrei see her leave. She mingled in with the crowd, making her way to the staircase. She made it to the bar as the announcer and Andrei were joined by Pepper Potts, Stark’s assistant. Making anecdotes for the crowd’s pleasure, they continued to wait for Tony to make an entrance. They seemed preoccupied, and nobody had bothered to pay any attention to the plain girl in the black dress as she dropped by the bar for another drink, straight whiskey this time, and slowly made her way up the white staircase. Her heels not helping her stay quiet, but again, nobody paid any attention. The crowd was growing restless for the arrival of Mr. Stark who was always fashionably late but made up for it with a grand entrance.

Typical, rich, genius playboy.

Kelsea made it to the top of the stairs and was greeted by dimmed lighting and a small lounge area. The landing at the top was a balcony that looked down onto the crowd, but with the dimmed lights, the main lighting for the party made it so barely anybody could see her from the floor. Kelsea took this into account and leaned against the glass railing and finally exhaled, not knowing she had been holding her breath that entire time. This time, she took a larger swig from her drink, feeling a light buzz as the alcohol went down burning again. College had made her a lot of things, but a lightweight was not one of them.

She pulled out her phone to check the time. 10:42 P.M. the digital clock read.

“Fuck me,” she muttered. It had not even been one hour since she walked in and what did she have to show for it? Nothing. She had nothing to go off other than Creepy Tattoo Billionaire Dude. Frustrated with herself, she turned back around to face the crowd to see if she could pick up anything else. Andrei had been a big lead, but she wanted to double-check if there were any others. She scanned the crowd, this time more carefully and paid more attention. Just as she tuned into a conversation held by the security guys in the back, a voice called out suddenly from behind her.

Guards: “Fifteen minutes, we have to …”

“I would rather not, but are we enjoying the view?”

Kelsea jumped and turned towards the faceless voice. She heard footsteps coming closer from the deeper part of the shadows and after another second a man stood before her. She stared wide-eyed and gripped the glass railing, shocked to even see anyone else up there. He stared back with arms crossed and a concerned tone in his voice.

“…everything should be in place, he just has to…”

“Well? Are ya gonna explain yourself or will this end with me escorting you out of here?” He said threateningly. His voice was rough, rugged. Kelsea could not discern his face well but could tell he was looking her over.

“I- I promise it’s not what it looks like, I- “

“Yeah? You what? What is it supposed to look like then?”

“I, I’m just-! I work for-! “

Kelsea was cut off as music erupted from behind her and the crowd erupted into applause and admiration. Tony Stark had finally arrived. Rock music blared on the speakers as the announcer introduced him as “Iron Man, the World’s Greatest Hero!” Tony flew in on what looked like one of his newer prototype suits, decked out in the signature, shining crimson and accompanied by a translucent blue metal in lieu of gold. The new material showed off the wires and inner technology of the suit, giving it a more sci-fi look than anything. It was rumored that he created the prototype in his month-long hiatus he took after Midtown happened. The suit eased him down in front of the crowd and presenters as applause filled the gigantic space. The suit had mechanically retreated off Stark and flew off somewhere else all by itself. Most likely to his garage, assumed Kelsea.

“Stark is going to be… Andi is almost ready…”

“Hey, you haven’t answered my question!” The guy pushed. He took a few steps closer and Kelsea could see more of him in the light. His blue eyes were complimented by the dark navy suit he wore, their expression held a threatening look as he stood his guard. His hand was behind his back, and only Kelsea knew what could happen next if she did not think fast.

Kelsea stood up straight and looked him up and down. As far as she could see, he did not appear to have anything major hidden under his jacket or anything. She looked into his threatening eyes, matching his glare with one of her own.

“I came up here to get away from a guy that was being a creep. I am here on business and I came in place of my boss, who couldn’t be here. I’m sorry if I’m not allowed up here, but the guy down there is bad news.”

“Who?”

“Andrei… Andrei Laksten.”

The guy’s eyes narrow and held a more concerned look, as if Kelsea had told him he had just won a million dollars by simply breathing.

“Why do you say that?” He asked.

Kelsea matched his reaction and swallowed, worry about what would happen next.

“Because he’s…”

“…this place will be finished, we gotta get out through…”

“AstroBoy won’t know what’s coming…!”

Kelsea spun back to look at the bounders as they quickly and quietly made their way towards the exit. Andrei’s smile had gotten wider, more strained, as his eyes darted between Stark, the bouncers, and his watch.

“Oh my god, Tony has to go!” Kelsea realized. The guy, who still stood in front of her, was alert at the mention of Tony.

“What do you mean he has to go? WHO DO YOU-“ His voice started to raise, and Kelsea was not in the mood to attract any attention.

“I’ll explain later, but we need to get him off the stage, and quick.” Kelsea quickly grabbed her phone out of her clutch and dialed into the number her boss had given her (in case of an ‘emergency’, he had told her.) She pleaded for the other end to pick up. She heard a click, then a quiet, “Hello?”

“Da Vinci is about to fly into the river. Now,” Kelsea said sternly into the phone. A couple more exchanged words and a reiteration of urgency were followed by a click and Kelsea typed rapidly on her phone. The man stood gawking at her, totally unsure of what had just happened. He searched her face for some sort of answer, but he found nothing.

“I have to go. Look, I’m sorry if you think I’m here to intrude, but I promise you, I’m not,” She told him, quickly swigging down the last of her drink and setting it on the railing. There was a brief pause between the two, silence mixed with disbelief. In that moment, everything was silent; even the crowd had momentarily paused.

With a swift motion, she knocked the glass from the railing. Almost as if it were all in slow motion, it sailed down onto the marble floors below and disintegrated into pieces with a crash. The only sound in the seconds before chaos erupted, ignited by the tackling of Tony Stark by his security agents as a sound like a car crash made the whole mansion rumble. The bar had exploded, sending glass, wooden shards and burning liquid in every way towards the audience. Screams and confusion came about when the prototype suit Stark had worn shortly beforehand flew out from its hiding place and towards the front but did not go to Tony. It instead begged upon Andrei as he took it with (literal) open arms. His fang-like grin gleamed in the lights as the suit engulfed him, giving him the power over everyone in the room. He shot up to the ceiling of the room as he tried to get the hang of the suit. The crowd tried to run to any exit they could reach, but to their dismay, the doors were blocked by the now-rogue bouncers from the party. Of course, nobody would have suspected them at a party at Tony Stark’s mansion. Yet, here they were. The rich elites against a man with an iron suit and a small army of hulking men with guns drawn.

“Come on!” Kelsea shouted to Mystery Man as she raced down the stairs to the front of the room. She cursed to herself, enraged by the fact that this happened before she could have realized it. That guy who confronted her would pay for making her lose her focus, she promised herself. As far as she was concerned, he had not even bothered to follow her. She did not care; her focus was to make it to the front and get people out of there. She made it through the sea of people, only to be met by the announcer cowering behind a turned over table. She went to yank him out of his hiding place when Andrei’s voiced boomed over the people with the suit’s speakers.

“You all will pay for the mistakes of the Avengers! Hydra will live forever!” His voice sent chills down Kelsea’s spine as she attempted to get the announcer and a couple of donors to the next room over, an exit that the bouncers had overlooked that went out onto a deck on the cliff. She huddled them along the tables that had been knocked over and had almost made it to the end of the wall before Andrei shot through the table she crouched behind. The group she pushed made it to the other side of the wall and ran for safety, but the blow had knocked Kelsea to the ground. She looked up at Andrei, fear and rage filled her core as she stood up and wiped the blood from her cheek. She could feel his eyes pierce into her even from inside the suit.

“You, especially! How dare you think you could even outsmart me, you little bitch!” I’ll make you pay with your fucking life!” He used the only working blaster-glove to fire at her as she dodged his attacks. She tried her best to get her phone opened as she used the remaining tables as coverage. She got her device opened and hit the kill switch which activated the detonation timer.

“If I can’t get rid of the great Tony Stark, I’ll just get rid of every single one of you!” Andrei yelled at the cowering individuals still stuck without any shield.

“I’ll even be fair and start with you, little bitch!” He screamed as he readied to fire directly at Kelsea. In that split second, however, she mustered her strength and threw the phone at the suit as the timer ticked down to one second. The next moment, another explosion came, and Andrei and the prototype fell mercilessly to the floor. The impact cracked the now dirtied marble floors and sent small parts from the suit flying in all directions. For a few moments, Andrei laid motionless and not one person made a sound. Kelsea arose and walked to wear the metal body sat. She approached it and nobody dared to move with her.

She took another step and jumped as the iron body jolted back to life and tried to reach around her ankle. She screamed, but Andrei did not last much longer. As if in the blink of an eye, an arrow came whistling from out of nowhere and embedded itself into the missing kneecap in the suit. An electric current ran through it and shocked the entirety of the metal man that lay on the floor. Andrei ceased moving. No signs of consciousness besides the flickering circuit boards and frayed wires coming from the suit. The helmet’s eyes had stopped flashing imprecise Morse Code after the electric shock coursed through it.

Kelsea caught her breath and looked up as she tried to find the source of the arrow. Her eyes landed to where she left the Mystery Man earlier on the balcony. She stared as he stepped forward, an industrial sized bow gripped in hand. Kelsea’s jaw dropped as she made eye contact with him. He only raised his eyebrows at her, almost in a cocky way. Her face filled with heat but before she could say anything, sirens filled the outside of the mansion and officers forced their ways into the house. They took down the bouncers who were still caught off guard by what the hell had just happened. Kelsea glanced back at the man in the balcony, but he was gone. It was then, as the police began to come into the building, that she figured she should probably disappear too.

She headed towards the elevators, stepped in, and hurriedly pushed the ‘down’ button. After a minute or two it dinged, and she stepped off and into the workshop. She wandered around as she attempted to find signs of people. She tripped over stray pieces of machinery and paperwork before she finally found the door to Stark’s private office. Inside she could hear conversation and knocked before being greeted harshly by another voice behind the door.

“Who the fuck is it?”

“Kelsea. Open the damn door,” Kelsea replied equally annoyed. Slowly the door opened, it was revealed to be Happy behind the harsh voice who had greeted her. He quickly closed and locked the office door and Kelsea stood anxiously in the presence of the true elitists of the night: Pepper Potts was hunched over Tony, who was seated in his office chair and attempted to push Pepper off from tending to him. He did not want to submit to the pain, let alone any type of pain, even if it was just a couple of scratches to the face and hands. He winced, however, as Pepper dabbed at the minor wounds to clean them. The three security agents behind them stood emotionless. Just then, another knock came from behind the door and Happy answered with the same threatening question. A rough, familiar voice answered back and Happy unlocked the door. Kelsea turned just in time to see none other than Mystery Man as he charged into the room. Staring in disbelief, she was taken aback that it would be him of all people. The one person she wanted to may pay for basically ruining the night.

He suddenly stopped midstride and midsentence at the sight of Kelsea. Almost on cue, they both opened their mouths at the same time.

“What the hell is she doing here?”

“What the hell am I doing here? What are you doing here?”

“I fucking asked first!”

“Oh, so you want to go down that route, do you?”

Kelsea started to make her way towards him as he squared up to her. Before either one of them could throw the first punch, Tony yelled to knock it off.

“You both are idiots who need to help us explain what the hell just happened out there!” Tony rubbed his temples while he talked indirectly to the two. Kelsea stepped away from her new nemesis and crossed her arms as she tried to ignore the heat rising to her cheeks. She opened her mouth, prepared to explain what had happened but Pepper stopped her.

“We should thank Kelsea, Tony, for alerting us to get you to safety before things got worse than they did,” she said calmly. She looked at Kelsea and gave her a small smile of gratitude. The man behind Kelsea stood there in disbelief.

“I’m sorry, ‘Kelsea’? Pepper, you know her? What the fuck is going on right now? How?!”

Without missing a beat, Pepper stood up straight and turned to him with a piercing look in her eyes that told him he better stand down while he could.

“Clint Barton, this is Kelsea Coach. My personal assistant and agent of SHIELD.”

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