THE PINK DRESS
WHEN THE ELEVATOR DOOR FINALLY SLIDES OPEN, THE PARTY IS IN FULL SWING. For a Stark party, it’s relatively small— not that that’s saying much. It looks like it’s mostly just the avengers (minus Thor, of course) and around 30 other people. They might even be friends of the others’.
Clint is the first to notice her.
“Hey!” he greets, grinning. “Look who finally decided to join us!” The group, sitting around a table, turn to look at her.
“Wow,” Tony comments, his eyebrows raising, “which clone am I looking at, exactly? Did someone spike the punch? Cause there is no way that’s the real Olivia Banner.” She rolls her eyes.
“It’s a dress, Tony,” she replies sarcastically. “I’m at a party. What, did you expect me to show up in my pajamas?” Indeed, she is wearing a dress; a cute, pastel pink, floral print one with a square neckline and loose sleeves that reach her elbows.
“Okay, the dress is one thing, but flowers?” Tony wonders doubtfully. “Really? From you?” Pepper smacks his arm.
“Ignore him,” she scoffs, offering Olivia a smile. “You look fantastic.” Olivia nods emphatically, gesturing to Pepper as she sits down next to Bruce.
“See? Pepper’s nice. Why can’t you be nice like Pepper?” she complains to Tony. He shrugs.
“Don’t want to inflate your ego too much,” he quips. “You might get a big head.” Olivia laughs.
“Oh yeah, I guess you’re the expert on that one,” she taunts in rebuttal. “Your head’s so big it’s a wonder how it stays on your shoulders.” The group collectively laughs.
“Ooh, got ya there Stark,” Steve chuckles, as Tony does his best to fake offense.
“In my own home,” he mutters, shaking his head.
“Speaking of, how was the move back into your apartment?” Natasha prompts, looking to Olivia. She shrugs, leaning back to rest a little against the couch.
“It was fine, I guess. Got everything out of the boxes,” she hums. “Probably would’ve taken longer if Bruce wasn’t helping.” Bruce shifts a little, with an awkward smile.
“There wasn’t much to unpack,” he denies, glancing at his sister. She nods, standing.
“I’m gonna grab a drink,” she sighs, running a hand through her hair. As she turns away, Bruce leans forward a little.
“Uh, hold on,” he interrupts. She stops and turns to look at him, praying there’s no repeat of last time. “Could you maybe… grab me a can of Coke while you’re over there? Please?”
She grins.
“Yeah, sure,” she agrees readily, turning away again to head to the bar.
“Oh, hey, can I get one too?” Tony calls after her.
“Get it yourself, Stark,” she calls back with a grin, knowing she’s going to do it anyways.
***
“Come on, Steve!” Olivia pleads, grinning. Her third glass of beer hangs loosely from her left hand, and she awkwardly clasps her fingers together around it in a begging motion. “Just one? I’ll even go first! Dad used to tell some really bad ones.”
Steve tilts his head reluctantly, but nods.
“Fine, fine,” he relents. “You first, then.” The group collectively cheers, and Olivia starts to think, still grinning.
“Okay, okay, I’ve got one,” she finally decides, nodding. “Why do dads take an extra pair of socks when they go golfing?” Bruce groans instantly, throwing his head back with a pained chuckle.
“Oh God, he told you that one too?” he complains. “That’s awful, pick something else!” Olivia laughs, shushing him.
“No, I won’t— now shush, no spoilers! Come on, why do dads take an extra pair of socks when they go golfing?” she repeats, leaning forward in excited anticipation.
“In case they need to take off their shoes,” Clint guesses, tilting his glass and knocking back a shot to punctuate his sentence.
“To hold the golf club with,” Natasha contradicts, shrugging. Olivia laughs preemptively, holding up a finger to stop any more guesses while she gets her laughter out.
“In case—,” she cackles, “in case they— hahaha— get a hole in one!” The group collectively groans, which only makes her laugh harder. Bruce can’t help the small smile that crosses his face.
“It’s not even the worst one,” he advises the group. “There was that one he told us every time Mom made us clean— um, what did the janitor say when… uh…”
“What did the janitor say when he jumped out of the closet,” Olivia finishes for him, pointing in his direction with a smile.
“Supplies,” they finish together, laughing.
“Oh God, and he did the— the jazz hands,” Olivia agrees, “every single time.” Bruce chuckles.
“The jazz hands,” he recalls, as though the ridiculousness of it still pains him. “Ah, and right when I almost managed to forget them!” Olivia laughs at his expense.
“Okay, okay,” she sighs, shutting down their little trip down memory lane. “Come on, Captain, your turn. Best or worst dad joke.”
“Coming from him, maybe you’d better call them grandad jokes,” Tony muses tauntingly, taking another sip of his drink (which is such an expensive brand that Olivia cannot recognize it). She waves aggressively, shushing him, but keeps her eyes glued to Steve.
Steve looks around and, realizing his friends are all watching, sighs. A smile is still on his face as he conjures up the best joke he can think of.
“A man walks up to his friend who just went to see a play,” Steve starts. “He asks, ‘did it have a happy ending?’ His friend says, ‘sure, everybody was happy it was over’.” Olivia laughs, while everyone else just groans a little.
“That one wasn’t even funny,” Tony complains.
“And the others were?” Clint muses, raising his eyebrows at Tony.
***
Olivia flops backwards to lay on the couch in her dreams, looking over at Loki.
“Someone had a good day,” he observes, not looking up from Bleeding Colors. She sighs contentedly.
“Sure did,” she agrees. “Right now, I’m fast asleep in my own bed, after 4 grueling weeks away.” Loki raises an eyebrow.
“Most wouldn’t classify staying with the richest man in their country as ‘grueling’,” he reminds her. She groans.
“Most don’t know that Tony Stark doesn’t really understand the concept of privacy,” she complains. “It was so exhausting to have JARVIS literally constantly watching, probably recording my every step.”
“Mmm,” Loki hums, his nose crinkling up just barely with distaste, “that does sound bad.” A brief pause passes. “I take it you’re a private person, then?” Olivia shoots him a weird look.
“Would my old boss have hired me if I wasn’t?” she shoots back rhetorically. He nods.
“Right,” he recalls, “the mob.” She holds up a finger.
“Nope,” she denies quickly, “no, not the mob. I said like the mob. Very similar, maybe even some overlap— but still distinct.” He nods.
“Then who did you work for?” he wonders. She waggles her finger before letting it drop.
“Telling you that would be a serious no-no. I barely got out as-is, I’m not taking any chances,” she refuses. He sighs.
“Probably sensible,” he reluctantly agrees, never taking his eyes off the book.
“How’re you liking Bleeding Colors so far?” Olivia hums. He frowns a little, still reading.
“I haven’t finished,” he reminds her. “Some of this is entirely absurd; for instance, why wouldn’t he just tell his partner that she isn’t dead? And if conflict of interest was truly such a large concern, then why didn’t they take him off the case when they found out the second victim was his friend?”
“Mm, no, Harrison agreed to help him hide that,” she reminds him, “remember? Nobody else knew the second victim was his friend.”
“Why would Harrison help him like that?” Loki wonders, bewildered. “It’s such a large risk; I thought they weren’t even friends.”
“They weren’t,” Olivia confirms. “I think you might’ve missed the page about Harrison’s sister. Should be right after James begs him not to tell.” Loki flips back quickly, and Olivia hears a hum as he finds the page in question.
The pair lapse into silence, and Olivia finds a comic book to flip through for the rest of the night.