You were sprawled out on the couch of your tiny apartment feeling like you were going to die of heat. You couldn’t even bring yourself to move and call someone to see if you could crash at their place until your air conditioner was fixed. You internally cursed New York for its heat. And then Shield for stationing you here to play baby sitter to the Avengers. And yourself for declining when Tony offered to put you up in Stark Tower.
What you wouldn’t give to be there now, in its air-conditioned embrace, able to move about freely.
You were supposed to be there now. For work. You lolled your head to the side to find the time on the clock across the room, it told you that you were officially two hours late for your job. Fury was going to kill you. You reached out an arm lazily to grab your cell phone and call in sick, finding that it was deader than a doornail before rolling off the couch and on to the floor.
Stark tower was peaceful; everyone was doing his or her own thing. No bad guys were trying to destroy the world today so it was the kind of day to relax but be prepared at a moments notice. You picked the living room as you personal space today usually it was your floor you stayed on and no one bothered you but today you needed somewhere different to let your imagination wonder. Reading was your main source of down time along with TV, video games, training, and your secret, drawing. No one knew about your talent in art, what was more ironic is that Tony had painting you had down a long time ago hanging by the bar. When you first came to the tower you spotted it and questioned Tony, he had told you Pepper was the one who picked it out and had him buy because it brought color to the room. Four years had gone by and still no one knew, you laughed at the thought. These days it was sketching in a sketchbook you could easily hide, if any of your ideas were good you redre
He hadn’t even begin to contemplate the weirdness of it all. He, the rightful ruler of Asgard, was walking along a cleaning aisle with the same group of people he had tried to kill just a few years ago.
‘What did Pepper say she needed again?’ Loki heard Natasha wonder out loud. He knew she was talking to Tony, but as usual the man with the iron tin can as a suit, was ignoring her and walked straight for the large refrigerator with fresh meat.
‘Just take one of those boxes on the top,’ Clint Barton told Natasha instead.
‘I don’t know,’ you replied to you best friend of three years. ‘I don’t think it suits me.’ You looked at yourself in the mirror, wearing the dress you had bought a few hours earlier to wear to a party Tony Stark was hosting in Stark Tower. It hugged your body and floated around you as you walked. It was truly a beautiful dress, but you didn’t know if you were confident enough to wear it.
‘Yeah… I bet you look awful in it’, Steve sighed again. In the time you had been in your bedroom he had put on the suit Tony had given him to wear, cleaned your messy kitchen and even managed to watch the whole eight o’clock news.
You swallowed hard, looking at yourself one last time, before finally making your way back to the living room. Steve was sitting on your couch, his arms spread across the back. He was wearing a suit Tony had specially made for him and you felt
Steve and Thor were the only ones to acknowledge him, the others being too busy to put up with Tony’s antics.
For example: Natasha had disassembled her gun and was in the middle of cleaning it, Bruce was reading the newspaper, Clint was flipping through the channels on the T.V., and, last but not least, (y/n) was sitting on the couch engulfed in a book.
Okay maybe they weren’t that busy, but they still didn’t want to put up with Tony. They hoped not acknowledging him would deter him from bothering them.
He sat a bag down in front of (y/n), startling her from her trance.
Well that didn’t work.
She looked curiously from the bag to the triumphant billionaire standing over her. At this point in time, the other Avengers took mild, emphasis on mild, interest in the bag.
“What kind of pet is it?” Steve asked curiously eyeing the container.