NO AMOUNT OF ORANGE JOKES CAN MAKE THIS LESS AWKWARD
OLIVIA IS HARD AT WORK ON THE LIVING ROOM COUCH. She’s still reeling a little bit from the events of last night’s dream. She reaches for her coffee, only to find the mug empty. Ah, right— that’s the third time she’s done that since she finished it.
Her eyes flit between her work and her empty mug in indecision, brows furrowed. She’s almost done with this segment, sure, and the client is really adamant about getting everything before 3:00. Still, isn’t it worth it to spare the 10 minutes she’d need for coffee? Going insane would make it harder to get work done, after all.
Her inner debate is interrupted by a hesitant knock on the wall.
Bruce is hovering awkwardly near the entrance to the kitchen, a slightly awkward smile on his face. He’s holding two mugs and a bag, all helpfully identified by the Starbucks logo emblazoned across the fronts.
“I-I’m not here to fight,” he rushes out when he sees the look Olivia’s giving him. “Really. I just— I wanna… talk. I brought Starbucks and everything, as a-a peace offering.” He holds up the cup of coffee as proof. Olivia watches him warily for a moment.
“…what’s in the bag?” she finally inquires. Bruce shuffles, and smiles (a little stiffly, but eh) when he realizes he’s not going to get to open the bag without putting something else down. Well, that or risk spilling coffee all over himself and the rug (which is still technically Tony’s).
“Uh, cheese danishes,” he replies. Olivia’s eyebrows raise in approval, and she nods, patting the space next to her.
“Good taste,” she compliments. “You may approach, at the cost of letting me have some.” Bruce’s shoulders drop in relief, and he comes over without protest, putting the Starbucks on the table.
“That’s fine, I got them for you anyways,” he admits, sitting down next to Olivia. She takes her coffee, sipping it greedily and sighing in relief.
“How’d you know my order?” she inquires curiously. He looks away in embarrassment, a nervous chuckle escaping his throat.
“I, uh… found an old receipt on the counter,” he admits. Olivia blinks, and laughter bubbles out of her.
“You went through my trash?” she laughs, clapping a hand over her mouth in a completely useless attempt to hide her huge grin. Bruce’s mouth pops open a little in indignation.
“I did not,” he protests. “I just told you, I found it on the counter!” Olivia throws her head back, still laughing.
“And— and instead of throwing it away,” she chuckles, “like a normal person, your first instinct was— was to memorize my order?” He shakes his head, digging a cheese danish out of the bag to thrust at her.
“Just— eat your danish,” he grumbles, trying to pretend he isn’t pouting. Olivia laughs again, but takes the danish with an amused smile.
“So what did you wanna talk-but-not-fight about?” She inquires politely, despite knowing the answer. She takes a bite of her danish. “Mm, this is good.”
“Well,” Bruce sighs, shifting. “I uh… I thought about everything, again. I even talked to Tony—,” he rushes to clarify, seeing her look up in alarm. “Nonspecifically! I-I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m trying to work things out with an ex-girlfriend, actually.”
“Gross,” Olivia comments idly, if only just for the sake of saying anything at all. Her shoulders are still a bit tense, but she takes a bite of danish to help the unsaid words go down smoother.
“Yeah,” Bruce hums awkwardly. “Anyway, Tony wasn’t helpful, but it— I think I finally get how… unfair I’ve been, about everything? I mean, I didn’t even give you a chance to explain anything. I just… inserted myself.” Olivia nods.
“Which you didn’t really have any right to do all of a sudden,” she agrees, “after pretending I didn’t exist for 17 years.” He winces, but bites back his defensive words with a slightly reluctant nod.
“Yeah,” he confirms slowly, “I guess I didn’t; and I thought maybe we could— could talk about it… now?” Olivia raises her eyebrows at him. Seeing his mildly uncomfortable, but genuinely attentive expression, she sighs.
“Okay,” she agrees finally. He perks up a little, and a fraction of tension leaves his shoulders. “Okay; fine, what do you want to know?” He turns to face her more fully, pulling one leg up and onto the sofa for more comfortable positioning.
“Why? I mean, why would you— how did you even get into that kind of, uh… work? Why would you—?” he cuts himself off. Olivia nods with a short sigh; this question, she anticipated.
“First of all, you should know they came to me,” she replies immediately. “I uh… I needed money, they paid well. Besides, you know, they’re not really the sort of people you get the choice to say no to. Second they set eyes on me, I ran out of options.” Bruce frowns.
“Well— I mean, if you needed money that bad, you could’ve—,” he falters, his frown deepening with obvious guilt. “I’m sure mom would’ve been… happy to help.” Olivia nods, having been expecting that response.
“Yeah,” she agrees, “she would’ve. But Dad had just died and she was already on the verge of losing the house—,” Bruce’s head snaps up, “—she really didn’t have that kind of money.”
“Wait, wait,” Bruce interjects, “losing the house? Mom almost lost the house? Why is this the first I’m hearing of that?” Olivia gives him an obvious look, and he grimaces. “Right, yeah, okay. That’s… wow. How’d she manage to keep it?” She leans back.
“Like I said… they paid well,” she replies grimly. Bruce’s shoulders drop. “It’s not like I wanted the job, Bruce. Honestly, I’m— I’m happy to be out. I just really wish you would’ve handled it… literally any other way.” He looks away with visible shame.
“Yeah, I… I should’ve— well, I should’ve done a lot of things. Talking is… most of them,” he admits. “Not my strong suit, I think. But I’m gonna change that. I’m gonna start talking. I’m sorry I didn’t do it sooner.” Olivia sighs into her coffee cup.
“Well, I can’t wait to see that change in action,” she hums. “I especially can’t wait to hear Mom tell me all about it over the phone. For now, though, I have work.” She taps her laptop in demonstration. “We can talk later.”
“Right,” he remembers, turning a little red. “Right. Let’s uh, let’s do that. Talk later, I mean. Maybe even about your… uh, old job? If you want?” Olivia snorts, nodding.
“Sure, sure,” she agrees. “We can talk about my old job— maybe I’ll even tell you how I got shot. One condition: you have to stop talking about it like a kid trying not to say the word sex. You make it sound like I was a prostitute.” Bruce turns red.
“Well, I’m sorry if I don’t wanna say it outright! I mean— JARVIS is always listening, you know?” he huffs defensively. Olivia smiles with amusement, turning to her laptop.
“I believe you,” she assures him, with a tone that more than implies she doesn’t. He gets up to leave.
“Good luck at work,” he bids, a little awkwardly. She nods, offering him a distracted thumbs-up as she tries to remember whether it was the font or the color that needed adjustment.
He leaves feeling satisfied.
As soon as Bruce is gone, Olivia’s face drops into a stressed scowl. She doesn’t even want to think about how tonight’s dream is gonna go.
She can only pray that it won’t be too incriminating.