#thranduilsperkybutt

In a world where soulmates existed you felt that it was particularly cruel that arranged marriages also existed. All over the world parents bound their children into marriage contracts with the disregard of soulmates. Stories often met your ears of children running from family as they came upon their soulmate while bound by contract to marry someone else. You wondered if you would have the courage to do the same if ever you met your soulmate. You dreaded if you would ever be in the position to find out.

It was no secret to you that you would never have the chance others might have. It was no secret to you that you otherwise has more privilege than most despite this fact. Others would marry freely, living happily with soulmates, people cosmically bound to them and you knew that while sometimes there were painful moments in the lives of soulmates, being bound to one another meant having a tether when you're world was collapsing.

Your world had been collapsing from moment one as your fate had long been sealed or rather in some ways ignored from birth. Arranged marriages were seen by yourself as torturous, something used as a way of controlling what couldn't be controlled. Fate was a cruel mistress, wasn't that the saying. But fate had not meant some of the more stubborn people on Earth. Perhaps the only reason you held your particular position on the subject matter was due to your being in an arranged marriage yourself.

At age five it was decided that you would be married to Tony Stark when you both came of age. Specifically after you both turned twenty-one and at said time would begin to transition into leadership roles of your family companies. Stark Industries and your families own company would benefit from a marriage and it would be a marriage of convenience not of love. At age five you were taken to Stark Manor and sat down next to Tony while a contract was being signed,

You supposed it could have been worse. At age five you were completely unaware of the predicament you had just been placed in. Soulmarks didn't appear until a persons thirteenth birthday and at the time you had yet to understand the complete concept of soulmates only just grasping some small details of the idea that there was someone out their in the world that you would love in an instant, that you would feel you had known all your life.

Arranged marriages occurred for a number of reasons. Yours happened to occur for pure financial gain. No more competition between companies, simply a merger due to an imminent wedding. Not something you would understand for years to come but something you would come too despise.  Arranged marriages seemed to you a destruction of the complex concept of love, love in which should be an instant feeling.

At five you were more concerned with the fact that the boy next to you wasn't sharing the blocks he was playing with than anything. At five you hardly understood your reason for being in the house that you were in, you only recognized that you had never been there before and you knew from the way your parents spoke that it wasn't going to be the last time you set foot here.

At age seven you'd begun to develop a friendship with Tony. Weekends were often spent together with it being more irregular that you would be elsewhere than by his side. There was no doubt of his burgeoning genius at that time and you were not far behind. Trouble seemed to follow you both wherever you ran as if it had been glued to you. At age seven you began to understand what a soulmate was and at age seven you began to understand that you would live to never meet your own.

You couldn't grasp what it meant to lose your soulmate before you'd even met them but you knew that this was something you'd never have. Tony didn't seem to mind or at least he never showed it and in your mind that meant that he had accepted his fate. This was ultimately something that you realized you would have to accept as well. This was the life designed for you and it would be easier to live if you embraced wholeheartedly that there would be no soulmates in your life.

No seven year old should stare straight into the face of fate and reject it but you weren't staring into fate you were shoved in front of it and yanked away without warning. It was hell and yet you wouldn't understand what was being taken away from you until you were older. At the moment you'd a vague idea yet there'd be no confirmation yet, there couldn't be. After all you hadn't a soulmark yet.

At age ten you started questioning if being married to Tony was such a bad thing after all. Of course you hated the fact that he was going to be keeping you from meeting your soulmate but still, ever since the day you first met you'd become friends. It helped that your minds worked in a similar way. Oh and also you were forced to spend Sundays together as part of the marriage contract but still, after five years he was certainly a friend.

Not that you'd ever tell him that you thought marriage to him was going to be ok. After all how bad could it be being married to someone who hated the idea of arranged marriages as much, if not more, than you did. Both of you had resigned yourselves to believing that there could be no other way. And unfortunately you were correct, even if you had found your soulmates before marriage there was nothing you could do, you couldn't acknowledge such a person existed. If you met them afterwards that posed another problem entirely.

But you were being thrust headfirst into a barrel full of problems. That was life, or rather the harshness of your life alone.

For most, the day they turn thirteen is a celebration. It is the day when the soulmark appears and you can now begin the search for your soulmate. Each soulmate will have the same mark although the placement of it is random. Treated like New Years Eve, the night before a thirteenth birthday was used as an excuse to stay up all night as a soulmark would appear at the stroke of midnight. Fate may be full of tricks but it was nothing if not punctual.

On the eve of your birthday however, you were in bed. Asleep. You didn't want to face what would be on your skin until the morning and even then you dreaded it. In your life you'd seen friends with their marks completely visible on hands and around eyes, you hoped that wherever yours was that you could cover it one way or another.

Tony had already received his mark but you'd never see it. A pact had been made between the two of you that it your marks were never to be shown to one another and your families had each been informed that you were never to be asked about it. They were aware of your distaste regarding the concept of arranged marriages and understood that you felt that your life had been controlled by them. While they refused to accept any blame, you knew it was them at fault.

The next morning you stood in the mirror noticing the mark crept over your upper arm and the tip of your shoulder. You traced the pattern with your finger, the only time you would ever touch your mark in that way. It was in a position that was easily hid by shirt sleeves but you took extra precaution by taking bandage wrap to the area, covering it completely so there was truly no way for anyone to see what mark had been bestowed upon you.

While he wanted to call and ask you how you were doing Tony thought it best to keep silent. He knew how you felt about receiving your mark, it was the same as he felt. The mark that had been placed upon him was a betrayal. He'd never get the chance to be with his soulmate thus there should be no mark, no reminder that his future had been stripped away from him. If you wanted to reach out to him you would but for now he refused to reach out, it wasn't the time and it certainly wouldn't have made you feel better hearing from the person who had taken you away from your soulmate.

You never blamed him for that. You knew he had no choice in the matter, neither did you. After a time you began accepting your misfortune. Tony was the one who you would marry and that was that. Although you supposed it could have been worse, the two of you could have held one another in contempt, animosity building between you. Rather you were lucky enough that the man who was to become your husband in years to come was a friend now.

The next few years went by in a blur as both you and Tony were attending college.

At age fourteen Tony had decided to attend MIT. Always a brilliant engineer you had no doubts that he'd succeed in his higher education. You knew if you had wanted to you could have started college at the same age but you couldn't view yourself becoming a teenager, embracing the oncoming adulthood while dealing with college courses. If it was what Tony wanted then it was what he should do.

At age sixteen you began college, choosing to attend Stanford. Tony had helped you figure out which colleges you should apply to and while you had applied as well as been accepted to MIT you couldn't bring yourself to accept. You were sixteen, in five years you'd be married to Tony and if four years of freedom (or the three it became as you graduated early) was what you could provide for both yourself and him then it was all that you could bring yourself to do.

Besides, Stanford was an exceptional school and you knew that while your name more than likely was what allowed for your acceptance it didn't mean that you hadn't put in the work to be there. Not to mention you forced your parents to set up a scholarship fund in your name that would provide full ride scholarships to anyone with a STEM field as their major or declared minor. Students who declared their major after their first year were also able to apply and receive funding for the rest of their education and were able to keep the money even if later they changed their major once more.

A clause had been put into the marriage contract for when you and Tony each started college. The Sundays that you were required to spend together had been still going on for years with the added free will hangouts that came sometimes on weekdays and Saturdays. Sundays became less forced and more of something you each looked forward to but with college there was no need for you to see one another every week, it wasn't practical. The clause simply stated that these visits should be deemed null and void. Tony offered to continue with making weekly calls to you on Sundays but you told him not to bother.

Freedom. It was the last thing you could think to provide for Tony and secretly he was grateful. Marriage was coming and there hadn't been a time he remembered that he'd been able to explore who he was without that fact looming over him like the Sword of Damocles.

Ate age seventeen Tony graduated from MIT and began working in his own sector of Stark Industries. You were invited to the graduate ceremony and it felt awkward having pictures taken together that you knew one day you'd look back on. In the moment to others who had no knowledge of the arrangement simply saw Tony with his friend but you knew that to your families it looked like Tony and his future fiancé, not that a proposal would even happen or was going to be needed.

It was an arranged marriage. The proposal was the contract. No romance, just lawyers with pens to use for signing and initialing.

Nineteen was what became, in your mind, the hell year. There was only one good thing in all the gloom, your graduation.

Nineteen was filled with horrors. Nineteen was the year that Tony's parents died and it was the year that you finally understood how unfeeling your own parents were. You suddenly began to grasp in full just how much of a benefit to them this marriage was meant to be.

Tony was numb. He should have felt something, anything at all. He should have wailed, cried out in pain but nothing happened. Nothing occurred. The call had come in, his parents had been found dead, a car crash he was told. He responded calmly to the questions that were asked of him, made funeral arrangements over the phone and informed the board of Stark Industries what had occurred. He'd arranged meetings with them to go over the next steps in terms of the business and what it would mean, how it would go about in press releases although the news had already picked up on the incident.

He took care of what needed to be done and then when all was over, when all business was taken care of, he called you. For a moment he was silent and then the news was whispered, it was a dagger to your heart. Howard he had never gotten along with but Maria, she had been the person he confided in often. For Tony, his mother had been practically his only parent and the only person in his life that for the longest time he felt had understood him other than you. And for you, Maria had been the only person to sympathy for your cause. She knew you felt as though it was unjust, your eventual marriage to her son and in private she apologized to you both for not trying stop it.

Words seemed useless that day, you simply sat by Tony as he grieved and you took his hand in your own. On the day of the funeral you did the same, you stood by him when he needed it and you left him alone when asked. He delivered the eulogy and looked to you for guidance in terms of where to place his grief. All you wanted in that day was to be a friend he could count on and all you wanted was for others to understand how he felt. You should have known your parents would be the exception to the rule.

Instead of offering condolences they simply reminded Tony of the contract, telling him that while his parents may be dead it didn't void the contract. It had been and still would be considered legally binding as Tony was an adult and full capable of upholding his end of the contract. Tony only nodded while you fumed and chewed out your parents later for what they had said that day.

Nineteen turned into twenty and twenty into twenty-one. The year of the wedding.

As was to be expected it was a very publicized affair. Every night there seemed to be a new segment on you and Tony. In every newspaper and magazine there was a new article. Your life was plastered everywhere and there was no privacy to be found. The wedding itself was large, planned by people you had never met and would never meet. It had been handled entirely by your family who you supposed had been planning every single detail from the moment the contract was signed.

There were people in attendance whose names you knew but had never met. There were businessmen there only to make connections, hoping that either you or Tony would be willing to listen to a pitch. There were friends who'd you both made during your years at college, friends who in secret apologized to both of you, friends who felt apologetic for something they had no control over but still felt as though they shouldn't be in attendance.

As far as parties go, it was fine. But it wasn't a party, it was a wedding and the photos you'd have of it would forever prove that the contract was upheld.

In the weeks afterwards you and Tony moved into the house (or rather mansion) gifted by your family. There were enough rooms that you and Tony agreed to move into separate areas of the house and for the most part treat this union as simply roommates rather than a married couple living together. When family was around you'd up the facade of being a married couple but you were friends and friends you would remain. A merger was formed and Stark Industries absorbed your families company, acquiring new technology and a few new business ventures. Everything seemed to be going as smoothly as it was hoped to be by those involved in the arranged marriage.

In secret you were two friends who lived together, in public you kept up the appearances of a married couple. Time may pass but to you and Tony it never wavered the nature of your relationship. You'd heard stories of people who had been in arranged marriages coming to love one another in the romantic sense yet you had only ever loved Tony in the platonic sense and he had felt the same way.

Business thrived and so did your friendship due to the closeness the two of you were forced to uphold. Days turned into weeks and weeks to years, you began to know, to identify, to anticipate every one of Tony's quirks and predictable actions. You knew when he was hiding something (which was often that he took the last cookie without telling you it was the last or something he'd planned for your birthday). You could identify each one of his moods and you wouldn't hesitate to call him out on anything.

You were at his side when he took over from Obadiah, finally the age stipulated in the will that would allow him full control of Stark Industries.

You were at his side when he attended business meetings (although you had to be present for some of them anyway as co-CEO).

You were at his side throughout thick and thin but you knew the idea that you were at his side because you were married was a lie. You were at his side as he was at yours because you were friends and that was what friends did, they supported one another. The only people aware of the act other than you and Tony were both Happy and Pepper. If anyone else knew then they never let on.

But that was what happened when you lived with him, you were made aware of everything.

When he was taken hostage in Afghanistan you were fielding calls left and right. Obadiah was trying to keep the company afloat as were you and the only people who seemed to care in regard to your own well-being were, once again, Pepper and Happy. You were grateful for them both as they seemed to be the only people with gift of the voice of reason. Even your parents didn't seem concerned and they were still under the impression that you viewed Tony more as a husband than as a friend.

Never had you liked the idea of Stark Industries manufacturing weapons, you'd always voted for removal of that sector of the company. Your main focus was on medical improvements and research. Every time you were outvoted yet you were pleased to find Tony's change of heart on his return. You were especially pleased to find that Tony still had his heart as he spoke to you about what he'd been through.

Iron Man became another shared secret for a time until Obadiah's betrayal and Tony's press conference. From then on you supported him in whatever way he needed, often coming to his aid when it came to manufacturing new suits or putting in upgrades. At one point he offered you a suit but you refused. This was his world, he was to be the hero and you would give that to him. It might be the only true thing that was his own.

Perhaps you should have spoken earlier when the woman named Natalie Rushman became Tony's personal assistant. Providing Pepper with a higher role in the company was something you encouraged but there was also something off with her replacement. Preoccupied with what was poisoning Tony's heart put investigation on the back burner but you weren't surprised when you found out that she was Natalia Romanoff, an agent of SHIELD.

You'd heard rumors regarding the organization but never had it been confirmed until a meeting with Nick Fury and Nat, as she asked you to call her after the discovery. While you were angry at her for lying at first, you recognized that she had a job to do and was only trying to do it well. Quickly she became a friend and confidant, the one person you knew would keep any secret you told her.

The discovery of Vibranium ended the fear you felt when Tony confessed what the palladium was doing to him. Ivan Vanko's death ended the fear that something was going to harm Tony. The idea of the Avengers, as presented by Fury did not end the fear even with the insistence that Tony was not ready for such a team. Of course this would end up not being Fury's choice when the time came.

You had a hard time keeping a straight face when Tony was pulled to join the Avengers later on. While the circumstances for the request were dire it still didn't help that Fury failed Tony as a candidate and was no turning to him for help. Part of your amusement also came from Nat's heads up that it was going to occur and from Phil Coulson's enthusiasm regarding the invitation being extended to one Steve Rogers, or Captain America as most knew him. Part of you felt sorry for the man who woke up in a new century and part of you was simply excited to meet him.

Tony asked you to stay in New York while he was taken to the Helicarrier. You understood and respected his concerns. What you could offer was only research which seemed unnecessary since there was to be Bruce Banner also investigating what you learned to be called the Tesseract. You received daily updates and despite knowing what was coming you stood your ground at Stark Tower helping fight the Chitauri in whatever way that you could.

Odd didn't even begin to cover how you felt after learning about the existence of other worlds. Scared didn't even begin to cover how you felt when you watched as Tony attempted to close the wormhole over New York. While you knew that you were already doing the most to help the team in whatever way that you could it never seemed to feel like enough despite reassurances from not only Tony, Nat, and Steve but from the god of thunder himself.

The Avengers became a second family to you. They were more welcoming, more understanding than your own. This was even proven evident when your parents showed disdain for your friendship with some of the team. You questioned how they could view such a friendship as lowly only to find that the opinions were held simply based on the class status of your newfound friends. It didn't matter that they saved the world it only mattered that they weren't rich. Even Thor didn't get a pass as he was a god.

You realized then what Tony had been saying for years was true. Your parents saw you as a financial gain and not as their child. It was something you'd always seen and recognized but denied because you wanted them to be your parents, you wanted them to be your family. They should be the ones who cared about you but that hadn't cared enough to provide you with freedom and they would never prove to you that who they saw you as was not someone they could respect but they'd always see you as someone they could control.

After the Battle of New York you helped Tony deal with his anxiety and PTSD as he helped you work through the trauma of your own childhood or lack thereof. The Mandarin and Killian seemed to be minor inconveniences in the long run as it was personal growth you were working on for the both of you. You worried more for Tony in those weeks and months than you did for yourself, hoping that he would find some sense of peace in anything and as he chose to remove the arc reactor and repair his heart you knew that he was slowly changing.

He was changing and it was certainly for the better but you should have known that there was to be some hiccup on the way. There never could be peace or happiness or prosperity with you and Tony, there always had to be some sort of grievance with you on behalf of the world. This grievances name happened to be Ultron.

The concept was wonderful, it was the execution that seemed to fall short. After the incident in Sokovia when innocent lives were caught in the middle of the Avengers warfare Tony wanted to step back, he wanted to give the team a break. AI's were always finicky but it was hard to imagine that Ultron would take on a mind of his own in a way that was so far removed from his purpose. Protecting the world didn't mean ridding it of all humanity.

You wondered if, due to Ultron's own existence, you'd ever become comfortable with the fact that JARVIS suddenly became a living being. It was odd seeing the AI walk around and go by a new name. This was the AI that you had talked to on late nights when you were stress baking in the kitchen, now here he was with a cape and a new name. But you didn't care as long as he did what you knew only he could do. Tony at least had created one loyal and valuable AI.

With Ultron gone, Tony returned home to the world of peace he so desperately craved. This, as was usual for Tony, would not last long. However you would always be there with him. He was your husband but you did not feel for him in the way that you presented to the media, yet this never meant that you failed to care for him or failed to be by his side. When the Sokovia Accords were introduced you were the one Tony turned to. He wanted to sign them, he knew what had happened, the killing of innocent lives, was his fault. It weighed heavy on his conscious.

Other members of the team held reservations which both you and Tony understood but you knew that if this was what Tony wanted then it was what Tony would and should do. Being held accountable meant identifying yourself as a hero and you were saddened by the rift this statement seemed to cause. Steve had been like a brother to you and you were well aware of his friendship with Bucky but even you could not excuse what had happened in Sokovia or in the UN.

It broke your heart when Tony retold what he had seen in the footage of the day his parents died.

Or were murdered.

Murdered changed everything.

It changed the way Tony viewed Steve who knew that Bucky was responsible for what had happened to Tony all those years ago. It changed how you saw Steve knowing that he could have told you or Tony at any point in time. Secrets sometimes had their benefits but you couldn't fathom that Steve would keep one so large from the both of you. You didn't question it when Tony cut contact with the super soldier.

You did however question Tony's bringing Peter Parker to Germany although you had to admit that you had underestimated the kid after he refused to become a full fledged Avenger. That was an offer you would have assumed he's jump at. The press conference set up to announce him was instead used as a way to announce some of the new research breakthroughs for the medical branch of Stark Industries.

That conference you had hoped would enter in an age of research and technology that would assist in the evolution of not only cures and treatments but more precise and efficient surgeries. Then of course Thanos had to come and ruin all of that. Then of course Thanos had to come and the medical advances had to be pushed aside for a rush of medical equipment and mass funding for hospitals. Tony approved the expansion of the Avengers medical bay to feature treatments for civilians rather than its main focus on powered individuals.

You watched him as he disappeared into the ship. You knew that this would maybe be your last chance of seeing him. Still you couldn't bring yourself to tell him what you had uncovered in your heart. You loved him, not just as a friend. You were deeply in love with Tony Stark and you had been for years now. It seemed foolish to tell him as part of you still held hope that the two of you would one day be able to be with your soulmates. Your feelings needed to be pushed aside for Tony to ever gain happiness with the person who was his soulmate.

After the Snap as it would come to be known, you hoped that Tony was still alive.

Tony hoped that he would live to see you again if you hadn't been one of the ones affected by the Snap. He wondered if he annoyed Nebula with stories of you. He really didn't have many stories where you weren't involved at all.

His arrival back on Earth shocked you, not just because of how he looked but because he was alive and not dissipated. Per his request you took him away from the compound and took him home, to whatever home you had left at that time of course. Retreating to New York in the country for the next five years allowed for you and Tony to recover, it allowed for Tony to be at peace.

Five years you had together, five years in which you could hav told him how you felt but five years you never said a word to him about your feelings about the fact that you truly did love him not just platonically but romantically as well.

Reckless, it wasn't new for Tony. He'd always been reckless, always been the person who would put himself first, put himself before everyone. This time was no different.

Five years. It should have been enough time and somehow it wasn't. Somehow you couldn't bring yourself to say the words that would change everything with Tony Stark. There was guilt lingering inside you for what if after telling him the truth you found your own soulmate or Tony had found his. You couldn't take fate away from him whether he would have chosen to advance in finding his true soulmate or not.

You journeyed with him to Wakanda for the final battle. While they gathered the stones you had kept away from the Avengers but something told you that you needed to be there. There was no fighting, Tony simply agreed although deep in his heart he hoped you would change your mind. He had seen danger, fought danger, for years and while he knew you were going to stay behind and work as a medic for the wounded he was worried for your safety.

Only when the sky turned to ash did you know the battle was over. Only when Tony was brought it to the medics did you know what he had risked. His arm was damaged far beyond repair even for what Wakandan tech could do. You were no surgeon and while it pained you to relinquish Tony over to others you allowed for them to operate knowing that a prosthetic was something he could learn to live with.

The procedure itself took a few hours, enough time for you to be caught up on what had occurred. You mourned losses, needing to process what you had heard and what you had seen, uncovering the connection between both.

As soon as Tony was awake you were permitted to see him. Your heart ached as you saw him lying their in a hospital bed, bruised but no longer bloody. The loss of his arm didn't bother you but the look on his face that showed he blamed himself for the lost lives did. Whatever it took you would fight to remove that guilt from his mind, he saved more people than he could have ever known and more people than would ever be aware that their lives were saved by him.

He looked toward you as you walked to the chair next to his bed. Sitting you took his hand in yours and waited to see if he would speak. He didn't and you knew instinctively that he wanted a quiet moment, he wanted time to reflect. You would not deprive him of that even though you wanted desperately to use this moment as a way of telling him the truth, as a confession and a way of convincing him that he was the hero he sometimes denied himself to be.

Leaning forward a little he moved to push himself back but his back was bare before you as he had been dressed in a gown after the surgery. You had never meant to look upon it, never meant to break the pact that had been initiated long ago and still, there it was. Located directly between his shoulder blades was his soulmark. Quickly you released his hand stumbling back, nearly knocking over the chair you had been sitting in, running out of the room as Tony apologized, realizing what you must have seen.

You sped past the team in the hallways rushing past Clint who reached for your arm to stop you but you broke free of his grip, turning down a hallway and leaning against a wall to catch your breath and focus. Clint came to stand before you, asking if you were all right.

"I've been a fool. All this time I've been a fool, I could've said something, said I changed my mind. I should have sensed it, don't people sense it Clint?" You asked.

He was confused, "Sense what?"

Staring him in the eye you spoke, "Tony is my soulmate."

Like Natasha, Clint had been aware of the fact that the marriage between you and Tony had been arranged. He was also aware that you and Tony had never seen one another soulmmarks which led him to be skeptical of your statement even though the look on your face told him everything you spoke was indeed true.

"I saw it Clint. It was an accident but there it was. The same mark. All this time, after everything we've been through, after all the years I've loved him I've wasted so much time thinking that I was keeping him and myself from being happy with our soulmates when he was mine. I have to leave."

"What? No. You can't go"

"Tell Tony I'm sorry and I wish I could stay and I hope that he'll forgive me but I do Clint. I need to go, there's something I have to do"

When you landed in New York the first person you called was Pepper. If there was anyone who could help you put together what was needed it was her. Friends you contacted were readily willing to help and you texted Clint to give him the full rundown of your plan so that he could inform you of when Tony might be coming home. You knew it would be normally four to five weeks but Wakanda had medical advances that you had only dreamed of and at three weeks of recovery Tony was given the all clear to return home.

You'd made sure that Clint directed Tony to the cabin that you had chosen to live in during the five years after the Snap. Now that everything was returned to somewhat normal you knew a conversation about returning to the Compound was in your future but you were steadily preparing for one specific day. The knots coiling and uncoiling in your stomach made it seem to you as though you had made the worst decision potentially springing this on Tony although you knew if he had discovered what you had this would also be his approach.

SHIELD agents, Avengers, and other friends you had made were all invited and entrusted to keep quiet until you arrived with Tony. Having been alerted to his arrival to the house you stood on the front porch to greet him. The stare he gave you wasn't filled with joy or anger, it was indifference and you only hoped that what you were about to tell him would change everything. Clint walked up to you first and you whispered to him the location of his suit that he could change into. Tony remained standing before the steps.

"I had to Tony. In a second you might come to understand."

"You saw my mark, that's why you ran. We could have worked through that, we could have adjusted the pact or we could have found a way to make you forget it or we could have done something but you left me in Wakanda."

"Tony Stark. I've been in love with you since before Iron Man existed. I never saw anything because I thought that maybe one day there might come a time in which either you or I would meet our soulmates and my feelings were only going to keep you from moving forward with whoever that might have been. I didn't run because I saw your mark Tony. I ran because after I saw it I knew that I had to do something."

"The being in love with me part makes sense. Not that I knew just that it's the only statement that makes sense in what you just said. But if you didn't run because you saw the mark then why didn't you stay? What was so important that you had to leave?"

You laughed a bit, knowing what you were about to say was absurd and would lead to no clarification just yet, "I had to plan a wedding."

"A wedding. You left me in a hospital in Wakanda after I had an arm amputated because you had to plan a wedding."

"Yes, Tony. Although I don't know if you can call what I planned a wedding. It's more of a vow renewal. Most soulmates get the wedding they want when they meet and decide to get married. Because of arranged marriages, we never got that. We never got a real wedding or the one we might have planned."

"What do you mean we."

Rather than give Tony the full explanation you lifted your sleeve to expose the bandage covering your mark. Gripping it you began to unravel the bandage leaving the mark fully exposed for the first time since your thirteenth birthday. Tony was stunned at what was upon your skin.

"All this time Tony. All this time and it was you."

Walking slowly towards you and up the steps he never said a word only reaching out and touching the mark as he was close enough. He traced over each line knowing that it was indeed the same mark he bore.

"We really have been fools haven't we?" He questioned, causing you to look into his eyes.

"We have."

"I've loved your for as long as I can remember and all this time I could have told you that. All this time instead of feeling apologetic that you were stuck in a marriage to someone who wasn't your soulmate I was wrong. I could have been holding you and caring for you and I could have been telling you I loved you for longer than just this moment. I could have been kissing you, you could have been mine in every possible way but I never said anything."

"Neither did I Tony. Neither of us knew. We're both fools here."

He smiled as he reflected upon your words about the vow renewal, "You planned our entire wedding in a month?"

"Pepper helped and a few friends offered there businesses to take of catering and everything else."

Tony kissed you softly and then pulled away to look at you once more, "I suppose we ought to get married then. In love and as soulmates this time."

You nodded and you led him out to the dock to where the ceremony was to take place.

In your life you had been bound to Tony Stark in three ways, by marriage contract at first, by marriage itself second, and unknowingly your whole life as soulmates.

Dr. Mallard told me there’s a town nearby. From what I gather, it’s mostly aristocrats and artisans and rich folk who live there. Not the kinda folk we run into often, but the law won’t think to look for us here. Not for a while, at least.

So I’m gonna head into the town tomorrow. Have a look around, see what we’re up against. Anthony wants to come along. Says he wants to start sniffing around, despite my warnings that we’ve got to act like upstanding citizens of the law. It’s too risky to start making trouble.

He says he understands, but I’ll keep my eye on him, just the same.

Tim and Abigail will go along with him. They’re much less rambunctious, so I don’t fear they’ll get into much mischief.

All in all, despite the money that no doubt comes through this town, I predict it will be a very dull place to lie low.

But maybe that’s what we need, right now. There’s been too much excitement, lately.

February 17th, 1889

Just as I thought - this town is full of men and women too concerned with stories and the arts to pay attention to much else. I counted five clothing shops on the way in. And only a single gun store.

I’m not even sure the saloon sells proper bourbon.

Though, Anthony seems to be fitting in, well enough. He can keep a pleasant conversation with any rich man he meets - a skill I scarcely care enough to learn. But I suppose it was a good choice to bring him along-

The journal is knocked from Jethro’s hands as someone slams against his shoulder from behind. It falls to the dirt, as does the bags of the person who’d knocked into Jethro. And even though his journal was knocked clean out of his hands, Jethro himself wasn’t much bothered. Because the collision barely moved him and it seems like whoever just bumped into him is suffering more of the consequences.

“I’m very sorry!” A voice says hurriedly. A womanly voice that wasn’t so prim and proper as the other women of this high-end town.

Jethro bends over to collect her bags - brand new, apart from the new dirt stains received from the collision. And the woman picks up his leather-bound journal; thankfully, it had landed shut.

They both straighten up, and Jethro instantly meets your eyes for the first time. Very pretty, he notices, if a little guilty for all the trouble you’ve caused. Dainty little strands of hair fall into your face, and the dress you wear is much too expensive for Jethro to ever be able to buy. And yet, you wears it so simply. He can’t tell if you’re just so rich that this dress is meaningless, or if you purely don’t care.

You speak, and Jethro’s eyes blink once. “Pardon me?”

A small laugh comes from you; light and nervous. “I said I was sorry. For bumping into you, like I did. I suppose I wasn’t watching where I was going. I can be a real clutz, you see.”

You still hold his journal with two hands. Fingers drum against the leather. He huffs and shakes his head. “No, ma’am. The fault is mine for not anticipating your arrival,” Jethro says simply.

And he hadn’t meant it as a joke. It was a simple fact, told in his deadpan way. Still, the nervous look on your face shifts into a wide smile. You’re laughing; light and happy and in a way Jethro wasn’t quite expecting. “Perhaps you’re right,” you say. And when Jethro hands your bags over, you gives him the journal back.

“Are you a writer?”

He’s dusting off the leather, barely listening to your question. “A writer?” He echoes.

“You know, a storyteller.” When Jethro glances back up, you motion to the journal. “I do enjoy a good story. And you seemed rather lost in whatever you were writing.”

Your eyes....your eyes held a sort of enraptured curiosity that Jethro himself hasn’t had in a long time. The type of curiosity that has you questioning a stranger with a journal because they may be a fascinating person. But he was just a man; just Jethro. And your words prompts a light smirk to his face. “Do I strike you as the type to entertain others, ma’am?”

You pauses. Shrug your shoulders as your emboldened smile softens into a smirk. You must smile a lot, he thinks. “Perhaps. I’ve only known you a minute, and you’re already more interesting than many of the men in this town. That’s quite an achievement, Mr....”

Jethro hesitates. He knew coming into this town that he didn’t want to give out his name very willingly. Maybe the law will recognize it and that would cause more trouble than he wants to deal with.

And yet, what harm could this woman do? A woman so soft and sheltered, she mistakes this rough cowboy for a city-dwelling storyteller.

“Gibbs,” he finally answers.

He sticks out his hand, and you smile while taking it. Jethro hears, loud and clear, when you tells him your name. And he hasn’t the mind to notice how soft the skin of your palm is. Your last name - it’s so familiar.

Familiar, as he’s seen it printed over almost every store and shop in this town.

So he gives a slow nod, releasing your hand. “I did not realize I was talking with a celebrity,” Jethro teases. And he expects some pushback from that little jab - women always seem to dislike his brand of sarcasm. They call him rude, and they may be right.

Instead, you grips your bags tighter. Jethro catches a bit of pink in your cheeks, and it makes his stomach tight with no good reason. “My father owns many of the stores in this town. It’s not a fact I share with others, Mr. Gibbs. I feel as though it causes people to treat me different - as though my opinion of them may sway them to my father’s favor.”

Seems like a hard life, Jethro jokingly thinks to himself.

Seems easier to have fake friends than government agents following you across three states.

Jethro stuffs his journal into his coat pocket before looking back to you, bobbing his head with a smirk. “Trust me, ma’am; I will treat you no different than I would any other woman,” he vows. And he’s mostly serious.

You smile again. And even giggle, this time. It’s a nice sound and even after Jethro tells himself to be polite to the daughter of the town’s most powerful man, he finds he doesn’t have to try very hard. You’re nothing like the other people Jethro has encountered in this god-forsaken town.

Maybe because when you look at him, Jethro doesn’t feel like the dirty old cowboy he knows he looks like to everyone else.

His thoughts are cut short by your cross little sigh. “I’m afraid I must go now. I’m expected back home soon,” you tell him regretfully.

Your reluctance was painfully visible, and Jethro is determined not to show his own. Besides, he wasn’t here to make a friend or charm a lady; no matter how pretty she may be. “Then I’ll save you the burden of a long-winded goodbye. I hope you have a good day,” Jethro tells her.

After giving you a single nod, he turns away. Takes several steps toward the saloon - that’s where Jethro reckons Anthony might be, anyway. Following some poor rich bastard in there to get him drunk and pick his pockets. And he thinks he’s about to make a clean getaway.

But your voice calls out. Calls his name in a way that makes Jethro’s feet freeze in their tracks. He almost doesn’t turn, but his head is arching over his shoulder anyway. Watching as you smile and waves him goodbye. “I hope to see you around! Perhaps one day, you’ll let me read the story you’re writing.”

That makes Jethro scoff, but he says nothing as you continue on your way. That expensive dress of yours even has some mud stains from where your shoes kick it up, but your don’t really seem to care.

And as you disappear around the corner, he shakes his head. Such an unforeseen encounter in a town where Jethro only expected to find uppity, rich men and women. And for the daughter of the town’s patriarch, no less, to completely shatter his expectations - well, Jethro found himself wondering if he really would see you again.

His thoughts are broken when Jethro hears a familiar voice calling out. Shaking out of his reverie, his head swivels around until finding the voice’s owner. Anthony’s hand waves in the air, and he starts jogging over.

Jethro can’t help but glance back to where you disappeared from.

But the Italian stops beside Jethro, wearing a big grin that usually gave him a bad feeling. “Afternoon, boss,” Anthony greets.

Jethro only grunts, and as he starts walking, his friend falls into step beside him. “Have fun screwing around?”

“Believe it or not, I wasn’t screwing around. Just the opposite, in fact.” Anthony suddenly steps closer, shoulder to shoulder with Jethro. Aware of the prying eyes and nosy aristocrats eager for gossip. “I think I figured out a way to rustle up some money,” Anthony says lowly.

Jethro scoffs, face forming a frown that Anthony can hardly see under the brim of his hat. Though, he’s already well acquainted with his leader’s sourest faces. “This idea of yours legal, Anthony?”

“Strictly speaking? Not really.”

Great.

“That’s never stopped us before, though.”

No, Jethro answers reluctantly. It hasn’t. And that’s what pushed them away from the West and everything they’ve worked for. Because of those less-than-legal schemes.

And hearing Anthony suggest a whole new one, in a town where nobody knows their checkered past...well, Jethro has a pretty wide pit in his stomach. Deep, aching; familiar in a way that has him thinking about the past. Has him thinking about what led to Shannon’s death, all those years ago.

---

 “You look uncomfortable,” you say at a volume that only he can hear in the crowded bar. One of his arms is behind you on the armchair’s extra plump armrest and you don’t even have to see it to know that he’s got a near white knuckled grip on the edge, digging his fingers into the cushion. You’re seated on his lap, nestled in close with your legs thrown over the other armrest and between the way his thighs are entirely too tense underneath you and the way his hand practically hovers over your shins like he’s afraid to touch you, it’s very obvious he’s not doing a good job at faking this whole cover story.  

“That’s probably because I am uncomfortable,” he snaps back through gritted teeth. Your eyes scan the dark bar, looking for your target as you throw one arm over the back of his shoulders to pull him in even closer, running your other hand over his chest. 

“We’re supposed to be lovers,” you remind him a little quieter, getting closer to his ear. He flinches and you can tell he’s resisting the instinct to lean away. “You’re so stiff.” You squeeze his shoulder. “And not in the good way,” you tease. He grinds his jaw and if he weren’t so close to blowing your cover, you might have found it funny. 

“This whole thing was your plan,” he says coarsely as his eyes drop down to your skirt that’s slowly riding too far up your thighs every time you shift on him. You wonder if he’s debating on yanking it back down for you. 

He was right though. This was entirely your plan. Information about a demon making some very illegal deals and trades had brought you upstate to a fairly new underground demon bar whose appeal was largely influenced by the sin of lust. Risqué artwork, a red motif that you weren’t entirely sure wasn’t meant to symbolize blood instead of romance, and cozy dark corners all helped embody the hedonism-esque atmosphere. So yes, it made sense to enter as pseudo-lovers to scope the place out. You’d thrown on a wig and some tight clothes that teetered the line between glamorous and grungy. Then you’d forced Constantine out of his suit jacket and tie in order to blend in, hoping neither of you would be recognized. 

But as you had forgone one of those dimly lit corners in favor of an oversized, plush, velvet armchair closer to the middle of the room for better visuals, his hesitancy to even touch you is bound to stand out and draw the wrong kind of attention. The bartender, who already had raised an eyebrow at your apparently uncommon drink order, was watching you both a little too closely for your liking. 

“Next time I’ll remember to ask someone a little less uptight,” you threaten idly as you do another quick scan of the room. You both knew it was a lie. He’s your go-to partner and on the rare occasions where his dumbass will admit he needs help, you’re his too. “Would you just touch me already?” you snap at him sharply, noticing more eyes on you. 

“Most women ask me that question with a much nicer tone.” The words are dry, but the humor is still behind them nonetheless and you catch the glint of a smile on his lips. He lets his hand come down fully and relax on your shin which still isn’t great, but it’s better. Bastard should feel lucky you remembered to shave your legs at the last minute too. “Have you spotted our guy yet?” he asks as if you were the only one looking. 

“Not yet,” you tell him, leaning in to whisper it to him in hopes of looking intimate. His flinch is much less noticeable this time at least. “You need to relax,” you chide. “You’re going to draw the wrong kind of looks.” He gives a humorously gentle squeeze to your leg in response and you can’t help but smile at his timid behavior.  

You let your eyes search the room in the most casual way you can. You lean over to the side to the small table in front of the chair where your drinks reside. Constantine’s hand finally leaves the armrest to sweep over your waist, making sure you don’t topple off his lap when you reach for your beer mug. You take a slow swig of it, eyes peering over the lip of the mug to keep fanning over the room. You put it back down, his fingers sinking into the pocket of your waist as you make the stretch.  

You readjust yourself on his legs and make a show of cuddling up to him. You’re a little impressed that he keeps his hand on you. He slides it up your side, resting it under your arm and shifting his own up your back to allow you to lean onto the armrest like you had been. You can feel the warmth of his forearm, bare from his rolled up sleeves, seeping through your relatively thin shirt and relax into it. When his fingertips brush the side of your breast, you can barely feel it through the absurd amount of padding in your bra, but you figure it’s good for show. 

Another fifteen minutes pass and you continue to unsuccessfully try to get Constantine not to look like he wants to crawl away from you. In that time, you notice the bartender cast suspicious eyes your way a few too many times for your liking. When one of the bouncers just happens to show up at the bar to talk to him, you know you’re about to have a problem. 

“Bail or sell it,” you warn Constantine. He furrows his brows, not following you. “Either we get out right now or we find a way to sell our cover story in a hot damn hurry.” You tap his shoulder with the hand you’ve flung around his neck again to indicate a direction without your eyes. “Or else beefed up half-breed over there’s gonna start something I didn’t bring proper footwear for.” You had not come in tonight looking for a fight and the black heels you’re wearing are a testament to that. You leave the decision in his hands and fully expect to be walking quickly towards the door in a moment’s time.  

“Fuck it,” he whispers harshly and before you have a chance to question what reaction that was meant to imply, the hand at your side tightens, hugging you even closer to his chest and the hand that previously rested on your shin is suddenly at your neck, pulling you into a crashing kiss. 

There’s definitely a slight mmph noise that escapes your mouth and you have to forcibly repress the instinctive surprise from flashing over your face. When your brain catches up with what’s happening, you expect a fairly chaste decoy kiss, but the way his lips are moving against yours and the heated way his fingertips press into the back of your neck prove contrary to that thought.  

You realize quickly that now you’re the one acting oddly, being unusually rigid for a woman being ravished by her supposed lover. So you return the kiss in the same way he’s giving it; hot and heavy. Your mouth opens easily beneath his and your hands are suddenly gripping at his clothes. There’s little actual romance to the kiss, your eyes still opening into slits to jump around the room, making sure it’s working. The only eyes on you now are the intrigued ones, the voyeur eyes. The bartender has gone back to his duties, seemingly satisfied with your display. 

You pull away from Constantine by mere inches, ready to let him go and release him from the ruse. He takes a single, deep but fleeting look at you before the hand on your neck pushes up into your wig. He kisses you again as he pulls roughly, sitting you up and using his other hand to help guide you where he wants you.  

It takes you by surprise, but the way he handles you doesn’t leave you wanting to fight it. The fist twisting in your fake strands of hair makes you regret wearing a wig. He’s making you ache to feel that pleasurable tug at your scalp. Your hands are forced to let go of him and brace yourself on the back of the chair in order to follow the direction of his pull, turning you to face him and slipping his hand between your legs. His fingers press into your inner thigh to push your thighs open over his lap all while keeping his lips up against yours. 

Your eyes are sealed shut this time, getting completely lost in his kiss and his touch. His hand slides around to the back of your thigh, pulling you closer to slot your pelvis over his. The moan that slips through your lips when you feel the bulge pressing up through your panties is completely involuntary and causes a twitch beneath you. Was this why he’s been so hesitant to touch you all night? If only you’d realized before. His mouth opening under you and his tongue pressing against yours ceases your brain from thinking much further.  

You move your hands from the chair back to his face to slide and cup his jaw, allowing yourself to put your full weight onto his lap with a roll of your hips. He releases your wig and both of his hands glide over your ass, giving a small, discreet tug on the hem of your skirt to prevent it from riding up enough to give everyone here an eyeful. His fingers curl over the edge of the fabric and when you feel fingertips brush over the crease underneath your cheeks, you know the maneuver was not without a selfish motive.  

One of your hands starts to melt down from his jaw to his neck and then slinks down further to his chest. And further still to his belly. And further still to his waistband. The rattle of his belt jolts him out of his daze and instantly, his hand shoots back between you to stop your motions as he pulls back from the heated kiss.  

Your surroundings slowly bleed back into your consciousness and you voluntarily, although reluctantly, remove your hand from between you. Your breathing is heavier than you realized and there’s a look in Constantine’s eyes that has you wondering if he’s debating pulling you back down one more time. And damn it all if you didn’t want him to do just that. But the look is fleeting and he clearly decides against it as he gives your waist a push to back you off his lap. 

You make quick adjustments of your clothes and your wig, hoping no one happened to notice anything awry. Getting to your feet, you spin around and quickly down the rest of your drink, a harsh mix of needing alcohol, quenching a sudden thirst, and finding something to do quickly flooding you.  

“I’m going to go… freshen up.” Your voice is dry despite the beer you finished off and you don’t even spare Constantine a look over your shoulder before whisking yourself away to the restroom, skin still tingling and stomach flipping around inside of you so much that you feel the slightest bit dizzy.  

You make it quick; splash a little water on your face and smooth out the wrinkles in your clothes before making your way back out. You don’t make it very far, rounding a corner and nearly running into Constantine’s chest. The freshness that the cool water had given your face is washed away instantly with a blush. 

“Time to go,” he says simply, his face filled with a composure he apparently stole from you, reversing how you had been when you walked into the bar. Your only response is a furrowed brow as you step back, needing to keep some space between your bodies. Had the kiss not worked? Really? It sure as hell worked on you. “Our guy hasn’t made himself known, but a whole bunch of people from Midnight’s just walked in so our cover is useless.” 

“Shit,” you hiss, shifting right back into work mode. “Alright, let’s slip out the back door.” You want to be pissed. The whole night is blown and you got nothing from it, wasting money and time. And yet, you’re still too preoccupied to be anything but a little relieved.  

Constantine follows you down the back hall and towards the back exit into an alleyway. He’s silent behind you, but you can practically feel him on your heels and you resist the nervous urge to pull at your skirt; an urge you can’t help but notice you haven’t felt all night until now. When you open the back door, you take a look over your shoulder and catch his eyes lingering on your ass. His eyes flash to yours with a smirk on his lips and you can’t help but laugh as he follows you into the alley. Such a small thing throws your nerves out the door and you fall back into your regular selves.  

Your heels click and splash on the wet pavement as you make your way back to the car parked in a garage around the block. Constantine walks besides you once you reach the sidewalk and keeps a respectable distance between you. As is normal for him, he’s quiet, his eyes watching the street. 

“So,” you break the silence, a little courage creeping into you. “Are we going to talk about that kiss in there?” You watch his face for a reaction, but all you get is a small clench of his jaw and his eyes squinting just a hair. 

“No,” he answers curtly. It wasn’t anything less than you expected so you simply nod. You wait another minute or so, until you’re inside the parking garage before asking your next question. 

“Are you going to do it again?” You watch as his lips press together tightly, something he does when he’s holding something back. For a moment you think maybe he’s not going to answer. Then, with his eyes still purposely looking away from you, he lets the smile come through. 

“Maybe,” he says plainly.  

You were lucky enough to get into one of them. It was only happenstance that you ran into the man afterwards and were granted permission to pick his brain. Which of course you did, soaking in every bit of knowledge that he was willing to part with. What you really hadn’t anticipated was him inviting you to drinks. Not looking a gifted horse in the mouth and not being a complete idiot, you agreed to go. One thing led to another and well, the next thing you knew, you were sneaking out of his hotel room before he had woken up. It was better that way. A little more dignified than being kicked out. Only a little.

The memories were fond and ones that you would hold onto for some time.

Back in school, the thoughts faded further and further from your mind. You were entering the final year of your degree and your nose was to the grindstone. You didn’t sit at the top of your class for nothing after all and wanted to ensure that you remained as competitive as possible for a job after graduation. When you stepped into the classroom, the second of your final fall semester, Anthony Stark was the last person that you ever expected to see.

Sure, you had known that he was lecturing. Everyone and their mother knew that. He had enough with his company and had decided that nurturing the so-called future was his real calling. You remembered him being passionate about it over the first few drinks that were shared between the two of you. There was a genuine drive to ensure that the legacy he had created was left in good hands and would continue to evolve. It had been a part of the attraction, beyond the looks and what you were told he was.

He was supposed to be across the country, lecturing at colleges on the east coast. Not out west, at your college of all places, teaching a class that you needed to be able to graduate. The only section offered. Your heart was in your throat.

Normally, you would have chosen a spot towards the front of the class. Easier to engage in discussion and all of that. This was the one instance though that had you slinking to the last row, ducking your head down, hoping desperately not to be noticed. It had meant nothing to him so why were you so bothered? You could act like nothing happened. He surely would. A one night stand at a convention and nothing more. Hell, maybe you would get lucky and he wouldn’t remember you. The thought stung but you refused to give it the time of day or examine why it bothered you. The path that would lead you down was much too dangerous.

You could let out a sigh of relief as others began to file in and fill up the seats. The hall wasn’t big but the size of the class would be even smaller. There would be nowhere to truly hide once he began the lecture and everyone got involved. You were just hoping to save a little bit of face before having to deal with that. If he did remember, it would be horribly embarrassing for him to say something about it in front of the class. He didn’t seem like that sort of man but then again, you didn’t know him. You knew about him yes but knowing him was an entirely different ballgame.

He advised you all to read the syllabus and know when the assignments were due as it wasn’t his responsibility to keep track of it for you. He didn’t give anyone the chance to really settle in or get bored as he immediately launched into his lecture. There was a difference between his lecture and the way that he had talked at the conference. He had been talking to a crowd of some peers and some students but there was an easiness about the conference talk. It was informal and almost impersonal. This? He was fully engaged and he wasn’t going easy. It was a make it or break it pace and there was no doubt that a few students wouldn’t be able to keep up with him. Even so, he made sure the material was accessible and understandable. He knew that he was talking to students but was going to demand the very best from them.

This was the sort of class that you normally thrived in. Being challenged and stimulated was the whole reason that you had gone into the field in the first place. Nanotech in biomechanics was a step above and beyond what you normally dealt with and you fully intended for it to be your capstone project the following semester. It would be tough finding some willing partners but you were determined to make it happen.

You may have wanted to go unnoticed by the professor but you couldn’t help yourself. You had to engage when questions were asked, contributing to the conversation and even throwing back some questions at him. The back and forth, even with the other students, was invigorating.

Class came to an end all too soon.

“Ms. Y/L/N, please stay behind for a minute.” You almost groaned but managed to stuff your notebook into your bag without shaking too badly. You had almost escaped. The rest of the students filtered out, a few giving you looks that you couldn't entirely read as sympathetic or jealousy. Ambling down the stairs towards the front of the hall, you fiddled with the strap of your bag. This would have been easier to handle with some liquid courage. Since there was none of that around, you were going to have to deal with it sober.

“Is there something wrong professor?”  A smirk sat on his face and that same air of confidence that he had at the convention surrounded him now. This was a man that was used to getting what he wanted.

“Hardly. Today at least. Sneaking out before some morning fun on the other hand…” You felt your face heat up. Perfect. This was not the place or the time for this but he didn’t seem the least bit bothered by it.  You were thankful that no one had lingered behind for any additional questions. Or to make passes at the man. Those would come.

His chuckle brought you back to the current situation and caused you to shift on your feet.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or mean anything by it. A mind like yours is rather hard to forget. Couple it with a great night and well, you know how it goes.” You didn’t but you weren’t going to say that to him right now. “I just thought that it would be easier for you and I to move past it, for the sake of the class.” Move passed it, right. Like you had thought, just another one night stand. Even if he had remembered you and had just complimented you in a sort of round about way. And the way that he was looking at you.

Before you could say anything foolish, you found yourself nodding.

“Yeah, of course. I uh, this class is important for me. Not just because I need it for the degree. I wanna base my capstone project in the area.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” he hummed. “You were easily the most engaged in class. Asking the right questions. Do you think you are going to be able to get anyone else close to your level to manage that?” Apparently you thought much more alike than could have been anticipated.

“I don’t know. But I am going to do my best to get it figured out.”

“Let me know if you need any help with it. I’m sure I could weed out someone for you to work with. And if not, we will see if there is anything else we can do about that.”

“You would do that?” You couldn’t hide the surprise in your voice.

“I’m intrigued to see what you could come up with, just how far you could go with all of it. Sharpen that mind and hone in some of those skills and you could be almost as good as me. We need that in this world.” Some of the cockiness had toned down and there was a genuine note to his voice that caught you more off guard than his offer just had. If you weren't feeling shy before, you certainly were now. That was some of, if not the loftiest praise that you had ever received in your life. The man before you was an engineering genius and he just said you could be on the same level as he was. You had hoped to be half as good as him and that would have been a hell of an accomplishment.

“Thank you.” There was really nothing else to say to that. You had been stunned into silence beyond the basic courtesy that your manners dictated you give. He nodded, appearing satisfied with the response for now.

“Well, don’t let me keep you. I’m sure you have another class to run along to.” You did, of course. Your brain took a few moments to kick start properly. You nodded and mumbled an incoherent reply before quickly turning tail and getting out of there.

****************************************************** Things had felt awkward for the first few weeks of that semester. Eventually, it faded and you were able to really focus on the important tasks at hand. That meant preparing for your capstone project, even if it was not going to be started until the following semester. You wanted to have as much thought out as possible.

True to his word, Professor Stark was a wealth of knowledge and guidance as the idea was shaped into being. Nothing occurred between the two of you beyond the normal professor student relationship. There was a part of you that was disappointed with that. It was that part that you kept shoved down, hidden and locked away. You knew that there was no point in trying to entertain those sort of flights of fancy. He had made it clear what he was expecting, which was absolutely nothing to happen. You had big things that needed you undivided attention. Giving over to a fantasy, however ridiculous yet seemingly tangible it was, was not going to help you. You had worked much too hard to get to where you were and had too much riding on this. If Stark thought that you were capable of doing great things, you needed to be able to make that happen.

Almost a month into the semester, you were settled into Professor Stark’s lab. Refusing to call him Anthony or Tony made it easier for you to keep your distance. At least emotionally. Physically, it seemed that you spent the majority of all your free time either discussing potential projects in his office or with your head down in his lab.

The small grouping of friends that you had seemed to notice this and loved to point it out whenever you were able to come up for some air and the occasional drink. You couldn’t be all work and no play or you would burn yourself out before you got to your graduation.

A disgusted sound came from over in the corner, where the man in question sat grading papers.

“I don’t think there is any hope for this undergrad class coming through. They are failing to grasp the most basic concepts routinely. Why are any of them even bothering when they are all going to fail out.” He pushed forward the papers. Rarely did you hear him speak like that. It must have been bad. Or he was in a foul mood. You hesitated for a moment.

“They can’t be that bad,” you mumbled before setting aside the text that you were reading. You had been pouring over the latest papers for the past few days, gathering ideas of where the current research was to help focus your own idea. Not that you planned on doing what everyone else was doing but it would help narrow down the categories and choices.

“Here. Read it for yourself.” He motioned for you to come take one of the papers. He didn’t have any TA’s so he did all of his own grading. Having to see for yourself, you made your way over and grabbed the top paper. It didn’t take you long to figure out that he was right. The paper was horrid. Nothing about the concepts discussed were correct and the application was so far wrong that it was painful. This was someone majoring in the field but the paper made it seem like they were some arts major that just copy and pasted a shit ton of things from a textbook.

“Wow.”

“I wasn’t being over the top in the comment.”

“No, you weren’t. This, it’s,” you shook your head. “This is awful. It feels like things were just randomly copy and pasted in without any sort of thought.”

“The rest of the stack is just as bad. I don’t know if the class all signed up as a joke or if they all decided to get shit faced and do the same damn paper. Either way, what am I supposed to do with this? And with them?” He stood up and grabbed for his jacket. “I don’t know about you, but I need a drink.” Was it the smartest idea? No it wasn’t. But you had been holed up for four days working through papers towards the idea that was so close to taking a proper shape. You hadn’t wanted to let it go. A drink was probably just what you needed to reset and give yourself some time to recharge.

“You know what? That actually sounds like a good idea.” In reality, it was a terrible one. That was how the two of you had ended up in bed the first time around. It was a risk that you understood in that moment and didn’t care about.

“Good. You’ve been in here almost more than me. Don’t need to turn you into a recluse just yet. Said you could be like me. Not that you had to be me,” he teased. You rolled your eyes at the comment.

“Great minds and all that jazz right?” you shot back with a grin as you slid passed, though mentally cursing yourself for falling into the banter. There was a level of comfort that had to be achieved, that was there just for the sake of being able to work together. Sharing ideas and having him challenge you mentally meant that it couldn’t be all business and strict. It didn’t go with his personality at all. It would make it too stiff and too difficult to manage.

The bar wasn’t too far from campus, though not frequently by too many students. It meant that you two weren’t bombarded by familiar faces when you entered. The atmosphere was quiet and welcomed. The place was filled with what were likely regulars, those that wanted to escape the crowded bars of a college town. He motioned towards a booth in the back of the bar and you nodded, understanding what he was saying without him having to say it.

He brought two beers over just as you settled into the seat. Generic enough. It wouldn’t be unheard of for a graduate student and professor to head out and share a drink or two. No one would question or think it odd. Not that there was anything odd going on. The thought pushed to the forefront of your mind and you were thankful for it. It reminded you that nothing was going to happen and nothing could happen. This was just a drink between, well friends and colleagues would be the best fitting terms.

There was a silence that stretched between the two of you. It wasn’t awkward and there wasn’t a need to fill it for the time being as you both just sipped your beers and relaxed. He was away from grading those awful papers and you were getting a reprieve from the hole that you were seemingly digging yourself into.

“I’m thinking that you are going to have to work on the capstone by yourself at this point. You are already putting in more hours into it than I am sure others will for the entire project. At this point, I don’t think that anyone is going to be able to follow what you are onto. That being said, I am willing to offer myself as an advisor for it and push back against the board if they take any issue with it.” The offer had not been fully fleshed out the last time it was brought up. It had merely been a suggestion at best. Now it was being laid out in front of you.

You set your beer down out of fear of spilling it and somehow making a fool of yourself.

“You’re serious?”

“Wouldn’t joke about something like that. But I think you know that by now.” He was right about that. He could brush off a lot of things and make them seem trivial but not something like this. He understood what it meant. He leveled you with a look that meant he wanted a proper answer. Right then and there, you had to make your decision.

“Okay,” you agreed. “I know it’s what I want to do and the only way that it is going to happen.” You watched a smile appear across his face, different from the smirk that he usually wore. It was genuine and caught you a bit off guard but you hid that behind a quick drink.

“Good. I know it’s going to take the rest of the semester for you to refine the idea of yours so I won’t bother asking about it just yet. Or tell you to stop working on it now that you know you aren’t going to have to convince others that it’s a good idea. You won’t anyway.” He wasn’t wrong and a sheepish smile came to your face.

“You’re right.”

“I know.” That brought a laugh out of you. You shook your head and took another healthy sip from your glass. “Guess that settles the elephant in the room then. You can at least stop worrying about it.” He relaxed back in his seat, his shoulders dropping a bit. It wasn’t often you saw him actually relax like that, where he didn’t have something to focus on or the next thing to jump immediately to. You imagined that you had been the same way though since the semester had started.

“Any plans for the weekend?” An innocent enough question.

“More work. There was a concert this weekend that my friends were all heading to but I wasn’t fond of the artist so I really don’t have much else to focus on.” His head cocked to the side ever so slightly.

“You might actually rival me Y/N,” he laughed behind his glass. “You are going to work yourself into the ground. I am going to lock the lab. You need a weekend off.”

“Coming from the man that doesn’t know the meaning of the words day off?” you challenged right back.

“Maybe when I was younger. I have gotten better about it in recent years,” he hummed softly. “And that’s a lesson you are going to learn early on if I can do anything about it. There’s a difference between working through a break through and burning yourself out. You have other classes that I know you need to focus on. Which isn’t the point of taking the weekend off mind you. Take a trip out of the city or something. That’s something that’s still done right?”

It was your turn to laugh. You could understand the sentiment behind it though. Your friends had been urging the same thing. It was just hard to pull yourself away when you were close to finally getting the idea to where it needed to be. It was in your grasp and you didn’t want it slipping away.

“You realize that I could still go to the library or just work in my dorm.”

“I did plan for that.” Your brow furrowed when that was the response. Planned for that? You had no idea what that meant. “You are taking the weekend off or the lab is off limits to you completely next week. I’ll have it locked up and maybe even take a week off myself. I can get someone else to proctor the testing that I have for all the classes.” For a moment, you thought that it could be a bluff. A whole week away? It didn’t seem like something that he would do but that damned smirk of his was taunting. He seemed serious as he cocked a brow in challenge. You weren’t sure that you were willing to call him on such a thing. A week outside of the lab and wouldn’t him to bounce ideas off of could really put a monkey wrench into your plans. It was a good damn threat and he knew it. Your shoulders fell and you had to admit your defeat. There was no way that you were going to risk that happening.

“All right. I’ll take the weekend off.” Though you had no idea what you were going to do for it. With all of your friends away, you were really on your own. You had just promised not to work so you were going to have to figure out what you were going to do. The man across from you looked like the cat that caught the canary and you rolled up a napkin and threw it at him. “You don’t have to look so damn smug about it.”

“Course I do. I got what I wanted and now we can move on. I’m going to get us some more beer. Unless you wanted something different?” He was on his feet but had paused at the side of the booth. There was a moment that you really debated what was a good idea and what wasn’t. If you couldn’t work then it meant that you didn’t have to be up early. If you didn’t have to be up early, then  you could afford to drink a little more than usual. You had already taken the risk in coming out with him to the bar so what was a little more?

“Yeah, some vodka.”

“Coming right up.” It wasn’t like you planned on getting drunk with the man. That had happened once already and while you wouldn’t ever mind a repeat of that night, it couldn’t happen.

*************************************

The weekend off had been exactly what you needed to recharge and reset. The drinks and the relaxed company had helped. You had made it back to campus before parting that night. No funny business happened, even if your subconscious tortured you about it later that evening. The drinks had become a part of your regular routine. Every other weekend, on Friday, the two of you would leave the lab and head to the bar. A couple drinks, some jokes and banter exchanged, and a walk back before separating. You would take the weekend off, or at least put some focus on your other classes. They were all a breeze for you at this point so it wasn’t like you had to dedicate too much brain power to them. Just enough to get good marks and move on.

Another Friday night had rolled around and the routine was maintained. You hadn’t been in the lab for once, choosing to settle into the library and work on one of the whiteboards there. The alarm on your phone went off though and you knew that you had to wrap it up. It wasn’t like the two of you had talked about where you would meet up. It had just been happening since you had been spending so much time in the lab with him. So you assumed that it would be the same as it was every other weekend.  

After you lifted your bag to your shoulder, you slowly made your way to the edge of campus, staying mindful of your surroundings. If he didn’t join you by the time you had made your way to the bar, you decided that you would turn around and head back to the library. There were still a few things that needed to be worked out on your paper for another class before you turned it in in four days.

You made it to the bar just in time to hear your name called.

“Y/N!” He sounded happy. You pushed off the feeling that came with it. “I thought you might have flaked out on me since you weren’t at the lab.” You gave him a smile.

“I know better than to call your bluff. I know that your threat still stands.”

“At least someone understands the value of a good threat still.” The bar was filled with faces that were now somewhat familiar. You didn’t know names, not talking to anyone beside Tony here. That barrier had fallen after the second visit to the bar. It just didn’t fit to keep calling him by his formal title while the two of you were drinking together.

“Well, it holds enough weight and consequence that it holds value. You just have to know how to properly threaten someone these days.” You moved to the booth that you always occupied while he grabbed the beers that you started the evening off with.

********* The pounding in your head was the first thing you noticed. The sunlight creeping in through the blinds didn’t help the situation at all. You reached up to grab the pillow and pull it over your face only to realize that your arm was a bit pinned to your side. In fact, you weren’t able to move at all. You opened your eyes, groaning at the action as light assaulted you, to realize that you weren’t in your room at all. It looked unfamiliar. Then, it registered that there was a warm body beside yours and an arm around your waist was keeping your own arm pinned down to your side. Things weren’t adding up  to equal out to anything good at the moment. You tried not to let any panic make the headache worse but you had to get up.

“Stop wriggling so much.” The voice was muffled but unmistakable. That was definitely Tony. You should have never agreed to go out for drinks with him. You had no clue what you were going to do now. It changed things once again. It wasn’t like you could both just go and forget about it. He was supposed to be your advisor next month. You were going to have to spend a lot more time with him than you already were. This whole mess complicated that beyond belief.

“Tony, I have to get up.”

“No you don’t. You have to go back to sleep.” You thought that maybe he had just done that when there was a pause. “You have one hell of a hangover and so do I. It’s early on a Saturday, the sort of early that no one should be awake unless they stayed up all night to see it. So go back to sleep, stop worrying.” That was easy for him to say. Stop worrying? How the hell were you supposed to do something like that when you had just slept with your professor and soon to be advisor? You may not have remembered much of what happened after deciding to leave the bar but it was more than obvious given the warmth of his skin against your abdomen that you were lacking more clothes than what would be proper.

“I’m not going back to sleep. I have to get up.” The unspoken leave was there.

“Not letting you go this time.” You didn’t understand that. He was the one who recommended keeping things a strict professor student relationship. He was the one who brought up putting the one night stand beyond you and acting like it never happened. Now he wanted to flip the script? That was not fair and a shot that he couldn’t just call like that.

“Let go.” It was a demand, clear and simple as you shifted and grabbed his arm to pull it off of you. “I’m leaving Tony. And that’s that.”

The one who dares to get you back at work a weekend deserves amply to have his testicles cook in the frying pan with some raspberry jam. Here we are, it is said! The only day when you could stay in bed, without getting dressed nor getting up, to cuddle with your cat and to watch all the late Netflix series you missed, one gets you back by strength for one space of redneck which decides to make the dick spin in a park in front of two girls. Brilliant, here is something to feed our love of the Humanity.

Dressed quickly, you dragged your body with force up to the office, your pajamas still hidden under your clothes, ready to turn back or to punish the shameless person which disturbs the rest of honest people. After having furiously abandoned your car in the parking lot - what shame to have to take her out, the poor darling, don’t you feel sorry ? - before swallowing you in the elevator, asking all of the gods of this existence and the next one to have enough time to make a hot chocolate at the office there. As the doors of the elevator were about to close, a hand rushes between them and a figure joins you inside. And what a figure!

An Adonis dressed in gold, with mint eyes full of sarcasm, a solid and purple covered torso, similar to the Roman emperors, and long legs hidden under a white toga, ready to fly away towards other heavens. All right, he wore an improbable outfit with a canary yellow oilskin, a pink raspberry polo and an ecru pants, and looked as impressed and annoyed as you.

On the other side of the small space, Rafael Barba, magnificent ADA of the prosecutor, the carrier of straps and improbable ties, looked up and measured you in a equal way, casually lengthened against a wall. A small sarcastic smile stretched his lips while he indicated your clothes.

"What a beautiful T-shirt" He says, pointing at your Slytherin T-shirt around your shape.

"Charming oilskin" You also chuckle. “Lost your boots along the way? I do not dare to imagine the risk you take to wet your straps.”

"For your information, I was with friends on a yacht."

"And they did not throw you overboard?"

"As much as they did not let you come inside in spite of this T-shirt?"

"Nice shot", you answer him with a small wink, the humour suddenly refreshed by this small verbal sparring match.

The elevator opens in front of you two and you rush outside, up to your team, gathered in front of the window without complexion, behind which is the victim. Fin quickly greets you, and at this very moment, you knew you had to say goodbye to your hope of a hot chocolate, leaving you without reinforcement in the face of the monotonousness - or the stupidity, it is your choice - of this pervert. Dixit the team, he denies everything, alleging that it was a misunderstanding, of course. This charming young man from a good family undoubtedly managed to ruin your weekend. In every new excuse which comes from all sides - excuses at the usual level of "sorry, madam, my homework ate my dog", "it is not me, it is the wind", "look, through the window, a biiiiiiird !" - You pull a face, scrawling behind an index card of your file to relax. Barba keeps looking at you out of the corner of his eye, watching you ruminating plans, either to run away through the window, or to suicide this stupid guy. Your last drawing represents the inside of the office, and the outside, with a small chap seeming to jump through the window with the help of a pair of suspenders to land in a bunch of hay, before running away in a Mario's kart in a sleeping setting, free of everything. Others seemed to include a Death Star, the eagles of LOTR, a Tardis and something quite different who would allow you to return at your home with a grandiloquent flash of lightning and flame. This and a method of torture with One Direction to make him admit the truth.

When Amanda and Sonny return with the testimonies of witnesses, Olivia makes a sign to tell you and Fin to go to cook the suspect. While you abandon your options behind, you seize the derisive look of Barba on this last "solution", and you congeal in your movement, waiting for you in a reprimand.

“For once, I'm not completely terrified of letting you take the lead on this. Either I'm getting used to your shenanigans or I've completely given up trying to stop you.” He said, completely amused by your attitude. He gives you a wink, totally amused by the situation.

“I mean yeah, he tried to take over the world, but I’d still be down if he asked. Well his younger self of course. He was fine when he was younger and GILFs are not my thing.” This statement gets a few eager head nods of agreement from the other new recruits around the kitchen island. We just completed our first mission as official X-Men members and are currently celebrating with a few drinks. Before I can bring the sweet liquid to my lips again, I hear a familiar voice join us.

“And who’s this GILF I’m apparently losing my girlfriend to?” I whip my head towards the entrance to see James Proudstar leaning against the archway. After a few weeks in Arizona, he’s finally back at the mansion.

I give him a huge smile as I go to hug him. “We were talking about Magneto, but you have absolutely nothing to worry about.” I give him a quick peck on the cheek. “Because we can’t go back in time.”

He gives a dramatic pout as he places his hand over his heart. “I came all the way from the reservation just to hear you lusting over another guy. Why did I even come back?”

“To be with your loving girlfriend who brightens up any room she’s in, literally.” As I say this, I release a string of electricity from my fingertips. Though that turned out to be a bad idea, resulting in me losing focus and shooting it across the room straight into the trash. Soon the room is filled with shouts to put out the small flame that was quickly growing. The panic only rises when someone thinks fire plus more fire equals no fire and decides to add their own to the mix. You can guess this only made the fire grow stronger; gotta love drunk newbies. Thankfully the fire is soon dowsed by a large pile of snow, courtesy of Professor Storm’s daughter. Once the situation is handled, we all fall out into fits of giggles, slightly more sober after the  incident.

James wraps his arm around my waist, catching my attention. “I’m taking that as my que to stop you from going any further tonight.”

“Whaaat? No, we were just about to rank the perky butts of all the guys in our squad.” In my mind, the excuse I gave him was perfectly sound and reasonable, apparently not to him.

“You don’t even realize how you sound right now, do you? Babe, I’m pretty sure that’s classified as sexual harassment. How much have you had to drink?” He glances at the glass behind me, long forgotten since his arrival.

“I’ve actually only had a few drinks, however, those shots mixed with lack of sleep has put me in a crazed sober state. And that’s not even including my everyday Luna Lovegood head-in-the-clouds personality that you fell so hard for.” I finish with a cheesy lopsided grin and angel pose.

James responds with a roll of his eyes and a suppressed smile. “Yeah and its time for you to go calm down before you start frizzing up again. How does relaxing in my room with some Netflix sound?” He suggests, guiding me out towards the main staircase. After two struggling steps, he decides to just carry me the rest of the way.

No complaints were coming from me, although his close proximity after being apart for a few weeks had certain areas of my body tingling. “Netflix and chill? More like Netflix and fuck my brains out.” I mumble to myself.

“What was that?”

“What?”

For the last three hours of your shift, you were bored out of your mind. The only customers that walked into the coffee shop were a couple of students that were writing a paper. You had already given them two coffees each and from their conversation, they seemed to be almost done with their workload for the day.

Knowing that next to nobody would be coming in next you decided to start cleaning. You had the smallest hope that your manager would let you leave early tonight.

After a while, the door opened and you could hear whoever had entered running towards the counter. You turned to face your boyfriend Steve trying to catch his breath.

“How’s my favorite customer? You getting the usual?” You greeted him in the way you were always addressing him.  You were wondering why we looked like he was running before coming to the coffee shop for his afternoon coffee and chocolate cupcake.

‘’ I would love to babe but I’m not here to order right now. I need to borrow your car keys. Please, darling, it’s urgent.’’ He sifted his weight from one foot to another and kept looking outside to your car.

‘’Are you kidding me, Rogers? Did you really think I would just blindly hand you my keys?’’ You took a glance at the time assuming that your manager was already about to call it a night anyway. ‘’Listen; give me a couple of minutes to ask permission to leave early. I am not having no for an answer, I am not going to let you take my car I might need it afterward.’’ The truth was that you were a little paranoid about giving your things away even to your loved ones. When you were in college you had given some of your books to a friend of yours and she not only never returned them but dropped out at the end of the semester taking your books with her.

‘’Fine, but be quick.  I just saw someone familiar walking by and I am almost certain he is a Hydra agent. We have to follow him; I noticed which way he turned. Also, I am going to drive because your over-cautiousness makes you a slow driver. I could joke that you drive like an old lady but that would be ironic coming from me.’’

Your manager let you leave but judging by how stressful Steve made you while rushing you to get to the car made you prefer to be back at work. At least being bored is preferable than being dragged to a car chase. Or most accurately chasing someone who was on foot with your car.

‘’So, are you sure the guy we are stalking is a Hydra agent? And what does he look like?’’ You asked your boyfriend since you noticed you were looking around for a person whose details you weren’t aware of.

‘’Yes sorry honey, I forgot to mention that part. He looked familiar from a file I wrote a while back. You give me that look (Y/N), you were working overtime and I was home alone. You know I spent my free time reading Shield files.’’ You shook your head at how much of a nerd your boyfriend can be.

‘’So back to the matter at hand. He is average height; picture him around Clint’s height. He was wearing a purple hoodie with jeans. And I think I saw a logo with a panther on the back of the hoodie but I’m not sure about it because I just took a glimpse at it.’’ He continues driving the car like he had stolen it.

Despite the tremendous effort on Steve’s part to catch up with the supposedly Hydra agent, you lost him. That of course came to no surprise to you. There was nearly impossible for you to assume the way he had headed off to, neither of you had that amount of luck. In the contrary, as that particular night proved, you two had the worst luck imaginable.

Your fast driving had caught the attention of a police officer who was following you around for almost three blocks. She had the serine on but both of you were too absorbed in the search for the guy Steve saw to notice her.

‘’I am so sorry officer; I know I was speeding and I will tell you the reason. Also, I will gladly pay any speeding ticket you give me.’’ Steve told her as he was rolling his window down. He respected law enforcement officers since they were risking their lives on the job. Also, he didn’t want them to think that he and the rest of the Avengers were undermining them.

‘’License and registration please.’’ The officer told the Captain before lifted her head and saw who she had pulled over.

‘’Oh my god, you are Captain America. I am so sorry I didn’t know it was you. I am a huge fan.’’ She put her notepad back in her uniform.

‘’Thank you for saying that, I appreciate it. And there is no need to apologize, you were right to pull us over. I was speeding in order to catch up to someone and I didn’t notice how fast I was going. Like I said I would pay any ticket you give me.’’ Steve smiled at the obviously nervous and starstrucked officer.

‘’No please, you are an Avenger, I’m sure you don’t have any priors. So I will just let you go with a warning. I will give you a ticket the next time it happens again.’’ She then asked for a picture with Steve and the two of you headed off.

The thought that you would go back to your home to have dinner crossed your mind but it got disturbed by Steve hitting the drakes once more. Apparently, he saw the agent again and decided to start chasing him.

The last time Steve spotted him it was near the Columbus Circle running towards 9th Avenue. Since you were facing the other way, the only thing Steve attempted to do a U-turn. Unfortunately, Steve’s impulse made his brain stop working and not only didn’t he reduce the speed of the car, he stepped on the brakes. That led to the car performing a doughnut maneuver and crushing the rear side on a utility pole.

You stepped outside unharmed but a little shaken up.

‘’(Y/N) are you ok? Are you in any pain?’’ Steve was more concerned about you than himself.

‘’I’m fine Steve. And from what I can see you are too. Thank God the street is empty and we didn’t cause any other damage.’’ You inspected the area and made sure the only damage was to your car. You tried to turn it on but you failed.

‘’Can you call a tow truck to came pick up my car? I will call Sam to come over so he will drive us home. And Steve, don’t worry about the agent we will locate him again. I will send any information about him to Jessica so she can go after him. He was stupid enough to run towards Hell’s Kitchen.’’

As you were waiting for the tow truck to come you kept drumming with your fingers.

‘’I am sorry about your car (Y/N) I promise it won’t happen again.’’ Steve sounded sincerely apologetic.

Sighing you climbed into the driver's seat and turned the key. Once, twice, third times the charm, you hear the engine roar to life. Ok, not roar, more like sputter softly. But it's running, and you just need to get it to Aurelio.  

Putting the '63 Stingray in gear you slowly make your way to his shop. He's really going to have your head for this.

Work in the shop ceased as you pulled in, all eyes turning towards you. With a grimace you try to hide lower in the seat. At this rate, someone would blab to Aurelio before you had a chance to even get out of the car. You meant to prepare him, not blindside him.  

Finding the spot where it went, you quickly put it in park and cut the engine. Jumping out you ran towards his office, only to be met by him and one of his guys half way there.

"What did you do?" He asks, voice tight but not angry. Yet.

"uhhm, it's probably best if you just come and look at it," you sigh, biting your lip.  

Closing his eyes, as if to calm himself, he nods and waves his guy off before walking towards the car.  

Following behind him, you wish you were able to hide, as if you could. Your breath catches as you realize the exact second he sees it. He doesn’t stop walking, but you can see his shoulders tense up, and he turns his head slightly to the left, looking for you. You can almost visually see the daggers coming from his eyes.  

Stopping at the front bumper he takes in his car. His baby. His pride and fucking joy. You were dead. Or at the very least, had months and months of making up to do.  

The front bumper had hit a tree, after you swerved to avoid hitting a couple that had bolted out between two parked cars. You hadn't hit it that hard, but hard enough to dent it, those bumpers were not plastic like the ones on your car. The spider web crack starting on the left side of the windshield was from the woman's purse that she had let go of as her partner pulled her back, safely away from your car.

He rubbed his temple with a sigh and started to walk around to see what other damage you had wrecked on his baby. Scratches down the driver's side rear fender, though to be honest, you're not sure if you remember exactly HOW those had happened.  

He stopped dead in his tracks when he reached the back end of the car.  

"Y/N, where's the muffler?" He asks, voice weary in anticipation of what your answer would be.

Biting your lip, you walk over to the passenger side and open the door. Pointing inside you step back as he approaches and looks down into the seat. Sitting on your favourite cashmere sweater was the muffler.  

"Y/n, why is the muffler sitting on your sweater in the front seat with the seatbelt wrapped around it?" He asks, a new edge to his voice that you couldn't quite name. Horror? Amusement?  

Swallowing the tears that are threatening, you will not let the other mechanics working see you cry, you take a quick look at him before looking down.  

"With everything that had happened to the outside of the car, I didn't want the muffler to ruin the leather seats," you explain, voice barely above a whisper.

Silence meets your answer, and it goes on so long that you chance a peak up at him. As you do he lets out a bark of laughter, causing the tears in your eyes to fall.  

Rubbing his temple, he laughs until he realizes you're crying.  

"Hey, Y/n, what's wrong?" He asks turning towards you, taking your hand in his.

"That was not the reaction I was expecting," you answer honestly, your free hand wiping away the tears.  

He pulls you in close to him, his hand reaching up to cup your face, and his thumb catches the last stray tears.

"Y/N, are you hurt?" He asks softly.

You shake your head and he pulls you in close for a hug.  

"Then that's all that matters here. It's just a car, I can fix it," he explains rubbing your back.  

Pulling away slightly he tilts your chin up so you can see his eyes.  

"You, I can't fix. As long as you're ok, nothing else matters."

You smile at him, eyes still watery, as he leans down to press his lips to yours in a soft kiss. Pulling you tight against him, you rest your head on his chest, his comfort releasing the weight that was on your chest.  

Pulling away he turns and closes the passenger side door and holds out his hands for the keys. Digging into your pocket you hand them over, very relieved to have given them back. Aurelio walks over to the driver's side, opens the door and puts the keys under the visor before closing it. Turning towards you he motions for you to come with him.  

"Are you seriously not pissed?" You venture to ask as you walk with him towards his office.  

"Pissed? No, like I said, it can be fixed. It's what I do. And I know you'll make it up to me," he says, voice full of suggestion.