THE WORST BLACKMAIL
“LADY BANNER,” THOR CALLS AS THE AVENGERS LEAVE THE MEETING ROOM. She stops, craning her neck up to look at him as he comes to a halt in front of her. “May I speak to you for a moment?”
She nods, having fully expected this.
“Sure,” she agrees, “but not here. JARVIS is everywhere. Come on, you can pay a visit to the Banner siblings’ floor.”
“Very well,” he nods. “Lead the way.” She turns, making a beeline for the elevator. The heavy thump of his footsteps follows her.
When the elevator doors open again, Olivia makes herself busy setting down her purse, while Thor carelessly drops himself onto the couch.
“You want something to drink?” she offers, already forging a path to the fridge for some water. “We have water, grape soda, tea— I can make coffee, even.”
“No thank you,” he denies, his eyes wandering the room curiously. It’s still decorated like any standard Stark guest floor, since Olivia doesn’t technically live here and Bruce spends most of his time in the lab.
On the table, though, he sees a couple of framed pictures. He picks one up, scrutinizing the last picture of the Banner family as a real family. Bruce’s college dorm looms in the background, an omen of things to come. He looks a little awkward, but excited. Olivia, still just a little girl, looks exceptionally bored, especially standing with her misty-eyed parents.
“You used to be so tiny,” he muses. He glances up at her as she approaches, water in hand. “I suppose that didn’t change much.”
Olivia resists the instinct to spill water on him. Accidentally.
“Well, I was six, so. Pretty sure everyone’s tiny at that age.” She drops into a chair. “But that’s not what you came to talk about, is it?”
He puts down the picture, and she pulls a pillow into her lap, settling in for a hard conversation.
“No,” he acknowledges, “it is not.”
His pause lingers in the air, hovering in the grey area between his apprehension and her expectation. No one says anything, letting the silence thicken.
“Why,” he settles for, deciding that he’ll never find a delicate way to ask, “didn’t you tell me?” She stares. “About you and Loki, I mean. I would have—,” he falters.
“There was no me and Loki,” she denies gently. “The first thing he did was threaten to peel the flesh from my bones. We saw each other once a night for a week and that was that.”
“Then why?” he wonders. “Why run after him like a rabbit after a carrot?” She wants to feel offended by the analogy, but she’s a little busy covering for herself.
“Are you kidding?” She looks at him like he’s insane. “I spend my entire life waiting to see colors, and once I finally get to, I lose them after— what— a little over a year? I was hoping…” she gestures hopelessly for a second, then slumps back. “Well, I was too late anyways. Obviously.”
Now Thor looks sympathetic, which is the reaction she was trying for.
“I’m… sorry,” he apologizes. He hesitates, grappling with himself for a moment longer. “My brother. Did you think he…?” She softens.
“I think,” she sighs, “he might have been more complicated than he seemed. But in the end, he did the right thing, didn’t he?” Thor nods, eyes downcast. “Well, take it from me— family fucks up sometimes. You’re allowed to love them anyways.”
“…You’re right,” he decides, standing with renewed determination. “Thank you, Lady Banner. That was truly inspiring— I must be going.” She nods.
“Anytime,” she agrees easily. “Oh, and hey— Thor?” He stops, turning his head to look at her. “Do me a favor? Don’t… tell anyone. They wouldn’t get it like you do.” He nods.
“Of course, Lady Banner,” he agrees. “Until next time.” She nods back, waving until he vanishes into the elevator, waiting for its doors to click shut.
When the noise finally reaches her ears, she slumps into the chair with a groan.
“God, he’s easy,” she mutters under her breath. “Can’t believe his father thinks he can run a country like that.”
She decides to re-enact this little performance for Loki later; maybe he’ll even finally shut the hell up about her acting skills.
Probably not though.
***
Olivia’s carefully casual as she scrolls through Pinterest on her phone. She doesn’t want anyone to know that she’s carefully paying attention to everyone who enters or exits this coffee shop— but she is.
If Hannah does know what Olivia is worried she knows, then there’s a chance she won’t show at all; that she’s already been disposed of. She can only hope that’s not the case. Best case scenario, she doesn’t actually know anything and this is all a waste of Olivia’s time.
It’s not great, as best cases go.
She’s spent the last few days constructing plans in case of anything worse than that, though. She’s already staked this shop out, even; she knows where to go if anybody needs an exit.
The bell on the shop’s door rings and she picks up her coffee to take a sip. She doesn’t look up, even as the chair across from her scrapes across the floor and someone settles politely into it.
“You… bought me a coffee?” Hannah wonders, somewhere between confused and suspicious. Olivia hums, finally setting down her phone to direct her attention to her ex-girlfriend.
“Didn’t wanna waste time waiting for your order to get here.” She leans forward a little, leveling the other woman with a serious expression. “So let’s skip the polite conversation and jump straight to why you called me here.” Hannah scoffs quietly, though a teasing smile forms on her face.
“I see someone hasn’t changed a bit,” she hums. “Always so quick to skip the pleasantries. Maybe I wanted to talk about your hair— you grew it out. Or how about the weather, hm? Cloudy today, isn’t it?”
Olivia levels her with the most singularly unimpressed look her face can make.
“Fine, fine,” Hannah relents, still wearing a light and easy smile. “You’re no fun.” She pulls a photo out of her pocket; it’s a blurry Olivia, with a Chitauri gun in her hands. “That’s you.”
Her tone leaves no room for argument, and Olivia doesn’t bother to try.
“And?” she prompts. Hannah nods, having been expecting that.
“And, I know how big you are on privacy.” The words ring a little sour, and Hannah blinks as though she hadn’t expected it either. She recovers quickly, though. “So, if you don’t want the newspaper I work for to publish a full article about Olivia Banner, unlikely Avenger, you’ll do me a favor.”
Olivia stares at her, still processing that; Hannah takes it as a cue to continue.
“I want an interview with your brother. Bruce Banner. The Hulk. Let me talk to him for five minutes, and the world can think you’re some nobody graphic designer forever,” she promises.
Olivia, finally catching up, bursts into laughter. It isn’t kind or warm laughter; it’s borderline cruel, even.
“You want to blackmail me,” she drawls slowly, making it sound stupid and ridiculous. “Not only do you want to blackmail me, but you’re doing it with the information that I’m one of the Avengers?”
Hannah hesitates, not having expected this reaction for some reason.
“How about this instead,” she proposes, leaning in with a cold stare. “You keep your fucking mouth shut, and I don’t mail your boss, or better yet, your family— about exactly how you liked to have fun, back in college.” Hannah pales.
“That’s— you don’t have any proof,” she denies quickly, “nobody would believe you.”
“Are you sure?”
There’s a tense silence, and Hannah finally grits her teeth, looking away. Olivia stands, triumphant, coffee in hand.
“Glad we could come to an agreement,” she tells her ex, a slightly sarcastic smile on her face. “Don’t text me again.”
“Maybe you did help save the city,” Hannah starts, staring straight forward, “but don’t think for a second that you’re a good person.”
Olivia says nothing, simply leaving Hannah behind alone.
She figures she’ll never notice that Olivia bought her favorite without needing to ask what it was.
And that’s probably for the best.