WHAT THE HELL IS AUBERGINE?
THE FLOOR SUITS OLIVIA BETTER THAN THE COUCH, SHE THINKS. It’s just so… unnecessarily long and lavish. So, instead, she’s sitting on the rug with the couch at her back, working on her laptop.
“First she says she wants sky blue, and then she changes her mind to sea green, and now it’s aubergine,” Olivia grumbles to herself. “I’ve never even heard of aubergine.”
Bruce wanders silently into the living room, leaning over the edge of the couch to watch his sister work.
“What, um— what are you doing?” he inquires, awkwardly. Olivia glances at him, internally cringing; this is gonna go great.
“Client changed her mind about what color she wanted,” she responds idly. “I don’t know why she cares; half the customers can’t tell the difference anyways.” Bruce nods, but his brows furrow in confusion.
“Well, um— how do you know what colors you’re using? I thought you were… still soul-blind,” he points out. Olivia’s nose crinkles up just slightly, but she’s definitely not about to tell him she’s not.
“I actually use this website,” she explains. “It’s for artists and designers, they have a collection of colors with their names. Yeah, you can even leave comments on the colors and stuff. A lot of people who can see color like to leave comments about where they usually see the colors.” She turns her laptop, showing him the website she’s talking about.
“Huh,” he hums, fascinated. “I didn’t know that was a thing.” She nods, turning her laptop back. Honestly, it’s been very helpful over the last few years, even since she started seeing colors. She doesn’t know too many color names just yet, seeing as how she only just started to see them at all.
“It’s pretty popular,” she comments. Then, she squints at the comments. “Aubergine is just eggplant? Why didn’t she just say that? I have that color saved already!” She sighs, completely exhausted. “Why are there so many names for the same five colors?”
“It’s uh, different shades,” Bruce tells her awkwardly. Well, yeah, she knows that; but still, having 12 names for colors that are barely two shades apart seems excessive to her.
“I guess,” is all she says, applying the color and saving the file so she can email it to the client.
“So, what’s the job anyways?” he questions. “I mean, what’s the color for?” Olivia pushes her laptop away, figuring she’ll just email the client when Bruce leaves.
“A menu,” she replies idly. “The client’s opening a little café in Arizona; she’s selling some pretty good-looking pastries, actually.” Bruce nods his understanding.
“Sounds interesting,” he volunteers idly. She shakes her head, a small smile gracing her face.
“Turns out, not really,” she denies. “There’s a lot more talking involved than you’d think.” He nods again, and they fall into silence.
“Well, Tony called me, so I’m going down to the lab,” he informs her. “If you need me, just let me know.” She nods, waving goodbye as he leaves.
“Yeah, you too,” she agrees. The elevator doors slide shut, and she leans back against the couch thoughtfully.
***
The door to the lab swings open, snatching Bruce and Tony’s attention. Olivia walks in, holding three coffees.
“This one’s from Pepper,” she tells Tony, handing him the one with no logo. “Bumped into her on the way in; figured I was coming anyways.” He takes it, but she can see the beginnings of a pout on his face for a split second.
“I prefer my coffee delivered by a pretty face,” he comments, “but I’ll take it.” Olivia scoffs a laugh, raising her eyebrows at him.
“I’ll remember that one, Stark,” she promises, handing Bruce his coffee. He thanks her idly, his attention focused on something under a microscope.
Olivia settles herself into a spare stool, sipping her own coffee and watching the two men work.
“So who should I thank for the visit?” Tony inquires casually, his eyes scanning something on a screen. “Hope you didn’t just come to see me; I mean I’m flattered, but I don’t think Pepper would like it much.” Olivia scoffs, but an amused smile is present on her face.
“Not even a little bit,” she denies, shutting him down instantly. Then she shrugs, taking a sip of coffee. “I got bored; came to see what my brother was up to.” Bruce halts, looking at her blankly.
“That’s me,” he states— Olivia can almost hear the fax machine noises behind his eyes. “I mean, you’re welcome here! If you want, I’m— I— come anytime,” he fumbles out, his brows knitting together. Then, he comes to a full stop, pushing up his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose.
“Bruce,” Olivia chuckles, “where’s the fire? Don’t hurt yourself.” He turns towards her, and she watches him gather his thoughts.
“I mean, I just—,” he cuts himself off to glance at Tony, then leans in with his voice lowered to a whisper. “I thought you were mad at me?” She nods.
“I am,” she agrees, “I just— I don’t know.” For a moment, she hesitates. Then, a deep sigh escapes her. Her shoulders slump a little bit.
“I called Mom. She told me you called her last night,” she admits begrudgingly. “She was so excited we were talking again.” Olivia gets the feeling, from Bruce’s expression, that she doesn’t actually need to say anything else. He already understands.
“She sounded excited,” he agrees quietly, regretfully. “I was worried she’d be mad at me.” Olivia can’t help the amused smile that crosses her face.
“Mom? Mad at you? The world will end first,” she scoffs teasingly. He smiles, too, but shakes his head.
“That’s not true,” he protests. “Do you remember when I accidentally broke her favorite vase?” Olivia sucks in a breath through her teeth; she does remember that, actually.
“Ooh, I forgot about that,” she chuckles, though she is cringing in sympathy. “Her face went so red.” The two laugh for a second, and then settle into silence.
“I, uh… I missed you,” Bruce admits. Olivia’s face drops into a bit more of a serious expression.
“Let’s not talk about that right now,” she suggests. “I’d rather not fight two days in a row.” His face falls with disappointment, but he nods, turning hesitantly back to his work.
“Right,” he agrees quietly. “Probably for the best.” Olivia starts to feel a little guilty, like maybe she’s the bad guy; she knows that’s absolutely not true, but still.
“You met your soulmate already, right?” Olivia inquires suddenly. She would assume so, at least. He’s always wearing the same color, which isn’t really possible if you can’t tell what you’re putting on. Bruce blinks.
“Uh, yeah,” he confirms, awkwardly. Honestly, it’s kind of a sore subject for him these days; being the Hulk doesn’t exactly help your relationships. “Why?” Olivia shrugs.
“We were talking about colors earlier; I hope mine’s… nice, at least,” she lies.
Three days ago, she would’ve thought some joke about getting the short end of the stick there, but that’s starting to feel a little rude. Loki’s honestly not the worst guy she’s ever met— not that that’s saying much.
“I’m sure he will be,” Bruce reassures her. “If he’s not, though, it’ll be okay. It’s not the end of the world.” She nods. She knew, obviously, that public opinion generally swayed towards not caring; hearing it feels different, though.
She chuckles dryly to herself. What the hell was she thinking, a second ago? Loki’s not the worst guy she’s ever met? That cannot be where the bar is.
“What’s funny?” Bruce inquires curiously, glancing at his sister. Olivia offers him a slightly dry smile, pulling up the first lie she can think of.
“I was just thinking, y’know; I feel bad for Loki’s soulmate. Poor girl,” she claims, earning herself a chuckle from Tony across the room.
“I thought they were gonna execute him,” Bruce hums with absolutely no certainty, brows furrowing. “Don’t they do that on Asgard? Execute people?” Tony scoffs.
“I doubt they’d kill him. He’s a prince there,” he reminds the other man. “Nepotism is a powerful thing.” Olivia almost argues with that. Loki seemed pretty damn sure he was gonna be executed, that first night.
Still, she keeps her mouth shut. If she said something like that, they’d ask questions.
“Either way, there’s absolutely no future there,” Olivia says instead, more to remind herself than to tell them. Befriending Loki is a waste of time; 3 more days and she’ll never even see him again.
“I’m sure she won’t mind much,” Tony dismisses. “I mean, she’d have to be crazy to want one.” Olivia nods her agreement, but her lips stay glued shut.
What does it say about her that she’s starting to really resent the way they talk about him?